diff options
| author | nfenwick <nfenwick@pglaf.org> | 2025-01-22 11:01:33 -0800 |
|---|---|---|
| committer | nfenwick <nfenwick@pglaf.org> | 2025-01-22 11:01:33 -0800 |
| commit | 6b1c480bf2a309d927daf6a5b064dab97ee8ab95 (patch) | |
| tree | 3baa8a7c998369f59e9b7fe7a7f76cfa73700f1d | |
| parent | f02409d3e3a5d404e458e8a7036d4e5bf19d8d1c (diff) | |
| -rw-r--r-- | .gitattributes | 4 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | LICENSE.txt | 11 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | README.md | 2 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/66790-0.txt | 9825 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/66790-0.zip | bin | 181185 -> 0 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/66790-h.zip | bin | 553525 -> 0 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/66790-h/66790-h.htm | 12563 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/66790-h/images/cover.jpg | bin | 244074 -> 0 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/66790-h/images/i_321.jpg | bin | 117035 -> 0 bytes |
9 files changed, 17 insertions, 22388 deletions
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..9b35b6e --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #66790 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/66790) diff --git a/old/66790-0.txt b/old/66790-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 082e3a2..0000000 --- a/old/66790-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,9825 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg eBook of Russian Silhouettes, by Anton Tchekoff - -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 -will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before -using this eBook. - -Title: Russian Silhouettes - More Stories of Russian Life - -Author: Anton Tchekoff - -Translator: Marian Fell - -Release Date: November 21, 2021 [eBook #66790] - -Language: English - -Produced by: Richard Tonsing, MFR and the Online Distributed - Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was - produced from images generously made available by The - Internet Archive) - -*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK RUSSIAN SILHOUETTES *** - - - - - - RUSSIAN SILHOUETTES - MORE STORIES OF RUSSIAN LIFE - - - BY - ANTON TCHEKOFF - - TRANSLATED FROM THE RUSSIAN BY - MARIAN FELL - - - LONDON - DUCKWORTH & CO. - 1915 - - - - - Copyright, 1915, by Charles Scribner’s Sons, for the - United States of America - - Printed by the Scribner Press - New York, U. S. A. - - - - - CONTENTS - - - STORIES OF CHILDHOOD - - PAGE - THE BOYS 3 - - GRISHA 14 - - A TRIFLE FROM REAL LIFE 20 - - THE COOK’S WEDDING 29 - - SHROVE TUESDAY 38 - - IN PASSION WEEK 46 - - AN INCIDENT 54 - - A MATTER OF CLASSICS 63 - - THE TUTOR 68 - - OUT OF SORTS 73 - - - STORIES OF YOUTH - - A JOKE 79 - - AFTER THE THEATRE 86 - - VOLODIA 91 - - A NAUGHTY BOY 111 - - BLISS 115 - - TWO BEAUTIFUL GIRLS 119 - - - LIGHT AND SHADOW - - THE CHORUS GIRL 135 - - THE FATHER OF A FAMILY 144 - - THE ORATOR 151 - - IONITCH 157 - - AT CHRISTMAS TIME 187 - - IN THE COACH HOUSE 195 - - LADY N——’S STORY 205 - - A JOURNEY BY CART 212 - - THE PRIVY COUNCILLOR 227 - - ROTHSCHILD’S FIDDLE 255 - - A HORSEY NAME 272 - - THE PETCHENEG 278 - - THE BISHOP 295 - - - - - STORIES OF CHILDHOOD - - - THE BOYS - -“Volodia is here!” cried some one in the courtyard. - -“Voloditchka is here!” shrieked Natalia, rushing into the dining-room. - -The whole family ran to the window, for they had been expecting their -Volodia for hours. At the front porch stood a wide posting sleigh with -its troika of white horses wreathed in dense clouds of steam. The sleigh -was empty because Volodia was already standing in the front entry -untying his hood with red, frostbitten fingers. His schoolboy’s uniform, -his overcoat, his cap, his goloshes, and the hair on his temples were -all silvery with frost, and from his head to his feet he exhaled such a -wholesome atmosphere of cold that one shivered to be near him. His -mother and aunt rushed to kiss and embrace him. Natalia fell down at his -feet and began pulling off his goloshes. His sisters shrieked, doors -creaked and banged on every side, and his father came running into the -hall in his shirt-sleeves waving a pair of scissors and crying in alarm: - -“Is anything the matter? We expected you yesterday. Did you have a good -journey? For heaven’s sake, give him a chance to kiss his own father!” - -“Bow, wow, wow!” barked the great black dog, My Lord, in a deep voice, -banging the walls and furniture with his tail. - -All these noises went to make up one great, joyous clamour that lasted -several minutes. When the first burst of joy had subsided the family -noticed that, beside Volodia, there was still another small person in -the hall. He was wrapped in scarfs and shawls and hoods and was standing -motionless in the shadow cast by a huge fox-skin coat. - -“Volodia, who is that?” whispered Volodia’s mother. - -“Good gracious!” Volodia exclaimed recollecting himself. “Let me present -my friend Tchetchevitsin. I have brought him from school to stay with -us.” - -“We are delighted to see you! Make yourself at home!” cried the father -gaily. “Excuse my not having a coat on! Allow me!—Natalia, help Mr. -Tcherepitsin to take off his things! For heaven’s sake, take that dog -away! This noise is too awful!” - -A few minutes later Volodia and his friend were sitting in the -dining-room drinking tea, dazed by their noisy reception and still rosy -with cold. The wintry rays of the sun, piercing the frost and snow on -the window-panes, trembled over the samovar and bathed themselves in the -slop-basin. The room was warm, and the boys felt heat and cold jostling -one another in their bodies, neither wanting to concede its place to the -other. - -“Well, Christmas will soon be here!” cried Volodia’s father, rolling a -cigarette. “Has it seemed long since your mother cried as she saw you -off last summer? Time flies, my son! Old age comes before one has time -to heave a sigh. Mr. Tchibisoff, do help yourself! We don’t stand on -ceremony here!” - -Volodia’s three sisters, Katia, Sonia, and Masha, the oldest of whom was -eleven, sat around the table with their eyes fixed on their new -acquaintance. Tchetchevitsin was the same age and size as Volodia, but -he was neither plump nor fair like him. He was swarthy and thin and his -face was covered with freckles. His hair was bristly, his eyes were -small, and his lips were thick; in a word, he was very plain, and, had -it not been for his schoolboy’s uniform, he might have been taken for -the son of a cook. He was taciturn and morose, and he never once smiled. -The girls immediately decided that he must be a very clever and learned -person. He seemed to be meditating something, and was so busy with his -own thoughts that he started if he were asked a question and asked to -have it repeated. - -The girls noticed that Volodia, who was generally so talkative and gay, -seldom spoke now and never smiled and on the whole did not seem glad to -be at home. He only addressed his sisters once during dinner and then -his remark was strange. He pointed to the samovar and said: - -“In California they drink gin instead of tea.” - -He, too, seemed to be busy with thoughts of his own, and, to judge from -the glances that the two boys occasionally exchanged, their thoughts -were identical. - -After tea the whole family went into the nursery, and papa and the girls -sat down at the table and took up some work which they had been doing -when they were interrupted by the boys’ arrival. They were making -decorations out of coloured paper for the Christmas tree. It was a -thrilling and noisy occupation. Each new flower was greeted by the girls -with shrieks of ecstasy, of terror almost, as if it had dropped from the -sky. Papa, too, was in raptures, but every now and then he would throw -down the scissors, exclaiming angrily that they were blunt. Mamma came -running into the nursery with an anxious face and asked: - -“Who has taken my scissors? Have you taken my scissors again, Ivan?” - -“Good heavens, won’t she even let me have a pair of scissors?” answered -papa in a tearful voice, throwing himself back in his chair with the air -of a much-abused man. But the next moment he was in raptures again. - -On former holidays Volodia had always helped with the preparations for -the Christmas tree, and had run out into the yard to watch the coachman -and the shepherd heaping up a mound of snow, but this time neither he -nor Tchetchevitsin took any notice of the coloured paper, neither did -they once visit the stables. They sat by a window whispering together, -and then opened an atlas and fell to studying it. - -“First, we must go to Perm,” whispered Tchetchevitsin. “Then to Tyumen, -then to Tomsk, and then—then to Kamschatka. From there the Eskimos will -take us across Behring Strait in their canoes, and then—we shall be in -America! There are a great many wild animals there.” - -“Where is California?” asked Volodia. - -“California is farther down. If once we can get to America, California -will only be round the corner. We can make our living by hunting and -highway robbery.” - -All day Tchetchevitsin avoided the girls, and, if he met them, looked at -them askance. After tea in the evening he was left alone with them for -five minutes. To remain silent would have been awkward, so he coughed -sternly, rubbed the back of his right hand with the palm of his left, -looked severely at Katia, and asked: - -“Have you read Mayne Reid?” - -“No, I haven’t—But tell me, can you skate?” - -Tchetchevitsin became lost in thought once more and did not answer her -question. He only blew out his cheeks and heaved a sigh as if he were -very hot. Once more he raised his eyes to Katia’s face and said: - -“When a herd of buffalo gallop across the pampas the whole earth -trembles and the frightened mustangs kick and neigh.” - -Tchetchevitsin smiled wistfully and added: - -“And Indians attack trains, too. But worst of all are the mosquitoes and -the termites.” - -“What are they?” - -“Termites look something like ants, only they have wings. They bite -dreadfully. Do you know who I am?” - -“You are Mr. Tchetchevitsin!” - -“No, I am Montezuma Hawkeye, the invincible chieftain.” - -Masha, the youngest of the girls, looked first at him and then out of -the window into the garden, where night was already falling, and said -doubtfully: - -“We had Tchetchevitsa (lentils) for supper last night.” - -The absolutely unintelligible sayings of Tchetchevitsin, his continual -whispered conversations with Volodia, and the fact that Volodia never -played now and was always absorbed in thought—all this seemed to the -girls to be both mysterious and strange. Katia and Sonia, the two oldest -ones, began to spy on the boys, and when Volodia and his friend went to -bed that evening, they crept to the door of their room and listened to -the conversation inside. Oh! what did they hear? The boys were planning -to run away to America in search of gold! They were all prepared for the -journey and had a pistol ready, two knives, some dried bread, a -magnifying-glass for lighting fires, a compass, and four roubles. The -girls discovered that the boys would have to walk several thousand -miles, fighting on the way with savages and tigers, and that they would -then find gold and ivory, and slay their enemies. Next, they would turn -pirates, drink gin, and at last marry beautiful wives and settle down to -cultivate a plantation. Volodia and Tchetchevitsin both talked at once -and kept interrupting one another from excitement. Tchetchevitsin called -himself “Montezuma Hawkeye,” and Volodia “my Paleface Brother.” - -“Be sure you don’t tell mamma!” said Katia to Sonia as they went back to -bed. “Volodia will bring us gold and ivory from America, but if you tell -mamma she won’t let him go!” - -Tchetchevitsin spent the day before Christmas Eve studying a map of Asia -and taking notes, while Volodia roamed about the house refusing all -food, his face looking tired and puffy as if it had been stung by a bee. -He stopped more than once in front of the icon in the nursery and -crossed himself saying: - -“O Lord, forgive me, miserable sinner! O Lord, help my poor, unfortunate -mother!” - -Toward evening he burst into tears. When he said good night he kissed -his father and mother and sisters over and over again. Katia and Sonia -realized the significance of his actions, but Masha, the youngest, -understood nothing at all. Only when her eye fell upon Tchetchevitsin -did she grow pensive and say with a sigh: - -“Nurse says that when Lent comes we must eat peas and Tchetchevitsa.” - -Early on Christmas Eve Katia and Sonia slipped quietly out of bed and -went to the boys’ room to see them run away to America. They crept up to -their door. - -“So you won’t go?” asked Tchetchevitsin angrily. “Tell me, you won’t -go?” - -“Oh, dear!” wailed Volodia, weeping softly. “How can I go? I’m so sorry -for mamma!” - -“Paleface Brother, I beg you to go! You promised me yourself that you -would. You told me yourself how nice it would be. Now, when everything -is ready, you are afraid!” - -“I—I’m not afraid. I—I am sorry for mamma.” - -“Tell me, are you going or not?” - -“I’m going, only—only wait a bit, I want to stay at home a little while -longer!” - -“If that is the case, I’ll go alone!” Tchetchevitsin said with decision. -“I can get along perfectly well without you. I want to hunt and fight -tigers! If you won’t go, give me my pistol!” - -Volodia began to cry so bitterly that his sisters could not endure the -sound and began weeping softly themselves. Silence fell. - -“Then you won’t go?” demanded Tchetchevitsin again. - -“I—I’ll go.” - -“Then get dressed!” - -And to keep up Volodia’s courage, Tchetchevitsin began singing the -praises of America. He roared like a tiger, he whistled like a -steamboat, he scolded, and promised to give Volodia all the ivory and -gold they might find. - -The thin, dark boy with his bristling hair and his freckles seemed to -the girls to be a strange and wonderful person. He was a hero to them, a -man without fear, who could roar so well that, through the closed door, -one might really mistake him for a tiger or a lion. - -When the girls were dressing in their own room, Katia cried with tears -in her eyes: - -“Oh, I’m so frightened!” - -All was quiet until the family sat down to dinner at two o’clock, and -then it suddenly appeared that the boys were not in the house. Inquiries -were made in the servants’ quarters and at the stables, but they were -not there. A search was made in the village, but they could not be -found. At tea time they were still missing, and when the family had to -sit down to supper without them, mamma was terribly anxious and was even -crying. That night another search was made in the village and men were -sent down to the river with lanterns. Heavens, what an uproar arose! - -Next morning the policeman arrived and went into the dining-room to -write something. Mamma was crying. - -Suddenly, lo and behold! a posting sleigh drove up to the front door -with clouds of steam rising from its three white horses. - -“Volodia is here!” cried some one in the courtyard. - -“Voloditchka is here!” shrieked Natalia, rushing into the dining-room. - -My Lord barked “Bow, wow, wow!” in his deep voice. - -It seemed that the boys had been stopped at the hotel in the town, where -they had gone about asking every one where they could buy gunpowder. As -he entered the hall, Volodia burst into tears and flung his arms round -his mother’s neck. The girls trembled with terror at the thought of what -would happen next, for they heard papa call Volodia and Tchetchevitsin -into his study and begin talking to them. Mamma wept and joined in the -talk. - -“Do you think it was right?” papa asked, chiding them. “I hope to -goodness they won’t find it out at school, because, if they do, you will -certainly be expelled. Be ashamed of yourself, Master Tchetchevitsin! -You are a bad boy. You are a mischief-maker and your parents will punish -you. Do you think it was right to run away? Where did you spend the -night?” - -“In the station!” answered Tchetchevitsin proudly. - -Volodia was put to bed, and a towel soaked in vinegar was laid on his -head. A telegram was despatched, and next day a lady arrived, -Tchetchevitsin’s mamma, who took her son away. - -As Tchetchevitsin departed his face looked haughty and stern. He said -not a word as he took his leave of the girls, but in a copy-book of -Katia’s he wrote these words for remembrance: - -“Montezuma Hawkeye.” - - - GRISHA - -Grisha, a chubby little boy born only two years and eight months ago, -was out walking on the boulevard with his nurse. He wore a long, wadded -burnoose, a large cap with a furry knob, a muffler, and wool-lined -goloshes. He felt stuffy and hot, and, in addition, the waxing sun of -April was beating directly into his face and making his eyelids smart. - -Every inch of his awkward little figure, with its timid, uncertain -steps, bespoke a boundless perplexity. - -Until that day the only universe known to Grisha had been square. In one -corner of it stood his crib, in another stood nurse’s trunk, in the -third was a chair, and in the fourth a little icon lamp. If you looked -under the bed you saw a doll with one arm and a drum; behind nurse’s -trunk were a great many various objects: a few empty spools, some scraps -of paper, a box without a lid, and a broken jumping-jack. In this world, -besides nurse and Grisha, there often appeared mamma and the cat. Mamma -looked like a doll, and the cat looked like papa’s fur coat, only the -fur coat did not have eyes and a tail. From the world which was called -the nursery a door led to a place where people dined and drank tea. -There stood Grisha’s high chair and there hung the clock made to wag its -pendulum and strike. From the dining-room one could pass into another -room with big red chairs; there, on the floor, glowered a dark stain for -which people still shook their forefingers at Grisha. Still farther -beyond lay another room, where one was not allowed to go, and in which -one sometimes caught glimpses of papa, a very mysterious person! The -functions of mamma and nurse were obvious: they dressed Grisha, fed him, -and put him to bed; but why papa should be there was incomprehensible. -Aunty was also a puzzling person. She appeared and disappeared. Where -did she go? More than once Grisha had looked for her under the bed, -behind the trunk, and under the sofa, but she was not to be found. - -In the new world where he now found himself, where the sun dazzled one’s -eyes, there were so many papas and mammas and aunties that one scarcely -knew which one to run to. But the funniest and oddest things of all were -the horses. Grisha stared at their moving legs and could not understand -them at all. He looked up at nurse, hoping that she might help him to -solve the riddle, but she answered nothing. - -Suddenly he heard a terrible noise. Straight toward him down the street -came a squad of soldiers marching in step, with red faces and sticks -under their arms. Grisha’s blood ran cold with terror and he looked up -anxiously at his nurse to inquire if this were not dangerous. But nursie -neither ran away nor cried, so he decided it must be safe. He followed -the soldiers with his eyes and began marching in step with them. - -Across the street ran two big, long-nosed cats, their tails sticking -straight up into the air and their tongues lolling out of their mouths. -Grisha felt that he, too, ought to run, and he started off in pursuit. - -“Stop, stop!” cried nursie, seizing him roughly by the shoulder. “Where -are you going? Who told you to be naughty?” - -But there sat a sort of nurse with a basket of oranges in her lap. As -Grisha passed her he silently took one. - -“Don’t do that!” cried his fellow wayfarer, slapping his hand and -snatching the orange away from him. “Little stupid!” - -Next, Grisha would gladly have picked up some of the slivers of glass -that rattled under his feet and glittered like icon lamps, but he was -afraid that his hand might be slapped again. - -“Good day!” Grisha heard a loud, hoarse voice say over his very ear, -and, looking up, he caught sight of a tall person with shiny buttons. - -To his great joy this man shook hands with nursie; they stood together -and entered into conversation. The sunlight, the rumbling of the -vehicles, the horses, the shiny buttons, all struck Grisha as so -amazingly new and yet unterrifying, that his heart overflowed with -delight and he began to laugh. - -“Come! Come!” he cried to the man with the shiny buttons, pulling his -coat tails. - -“Where to?” asked the man. - -“Come!” Grisha insisted. He would have liked to say that it would be -nice to take papa and mamma and the cat along, too, but somehow his -tongue would not obey him. - -In a few minutes nurse turned off the boulevard and led Grisha into a -large courtyard where the snow still lay on the ground. The man with -shiny buttons followed them. Carefully avoiding the puddles and lumps of -snow, they picked their way across the courtyard, mounted a dark, grimy -staircase, and entered a room where the air was heavy with smoke and a -strong smell of cooking. A woman was standing over a stove frying chops. -This cook and nurse embraced one another, and, sitting down on a bench -with the man, began talking in low voices. Bundled up as he was, Grisha -felt unbearably hot. - -“What does this mean?” he asked himself, gazing about. He saw a dingy -ceiling, a two-pronged oven fork, and a stove with a huge oven mouth -gaping at him. - -“Ma-a-m-ma!” he wailed. - -“Now! Now!” his nurse called to him. “Be good!” - -The cook set a bottle, two glasses, and a pie on the table. The two -women and the man with the shiny buttons touched glasses and each had -several drinks. The man embraced alternately the cook and the nurse. -Then all three began to sing softly. - -Grisha stretched his hand toward the pie, and they gave him a piece. He -ate it and watched his nurse drinking. He wanted to drink, too. - -“Give, nursie! Give!” he begged. - -The cook gave him a drink out of her glass. He screwed up his eyes, -frowned, and coughed for a long time after that, beating the air with -his hands, while the cook watched him and laughed. - -When he reached home, Grisha explained to mamma, the walls, and his crib -where he had been and what he had seen. He told it less with his tongue -than with his hands and his face; he showed how the sun had shone, how -the horses had trotted, how the terrible oven had gaped at him, and how -the cook had drunk. - -That evening he could not possibly go to sleep. The soldiers with their -sticks, the great cats, the horses, the bits of glass, the basket of -oranges, the shiny buttons, all this lay piled on his brain and -oppressed him. He tossed from side to side, chattering to himself, and -finally, unable longer to endure his excitement, he burst into tears. - -“Why, he has fever!” cried mamma, laying the palm of her hand on his -forehead. “What can be the reason?” - -“The stove!” wept Grisha. “Go away, stove!” - -“He has eaten something that has disagreed with him,” mamma concluded. - -And, shaken by his impressions of a new life apprehended for the first -time, Grisha was given a spoonful of castor-oil by mamma. - - - A TRIFLE FROM REAL LIFE - -Nikolai Ilitch Belayeff was a young gentleman of St. Petersburg, aged -thirty-two, rosy, well fed, and a patron of the race-tracks. Once, -toward evening, he went to pay a call on Olga Ivanovna with whom, to use -his own expression, he was dragging through a long and tedious -love-affair. And the truth was that the first thrilling, inspiring pages -of this romance had long since been read, and that the story was now -dragging wearily on, presenting nothing that was either interesting or -novel. - -Not finding Olga at home, my hero threw himself upon a couch and -prepared to await her return. - -“Good evening, Nikolai Ilitch!” he heard a child’s voice say. “Mamma -will soon be home. She has gone to the dressmaker’s with Sonia.” - -On the divan in the same room lay Aliosha, Olga’s son, a small boy of -eight, immaculately and picturesquely dressed in a little velvet suit -and long black stockings. He had been lying on a satin pillow, mimicking -the antics of an acrobat he had seen at the circus. First he stretched -up one pretty leg, then another; then, when they were tired, he brought -his arms into play, and at last jumped up galvanically, throwing himself -on all fours in an effort to stand on his head. He went through all -these motions with the most serious face in the world, puffing like a -martyr, as if he himself regretted that God had given him such a -restless little body. - -“Ah, good evening, my boy!” said Belayeff. “Is that you? I did not know -you were here. Is mamma well?” - -Aliosha seized the toe of his left shoe in his right hand, assumed the -most unnatural position in the world, rolled over, jumped up, and peeped -out at Belayeff from under the heavy fringes of the lampshade. - -“Not very,” he said shrugging his shoulders. “Mamma is never really -well. She is a woman, you see, and women always have something the -matter with them.” - -From lack of anything better to do, Belayeff began scrutinizing -Aliosha’s face. During all his acquaintance with Olga he had never -bestowed any consideration upon the boy or noticed his existence at all. -He had seen the child about, but what he was doing there Belayeff, -somehow, had never cared to think. - -Now, in the dusk of evening, Aliosha’s pale face and fixed, dark eyes -unexpectedly reminded Belayeff of Olga as she had appeared in the first -pages of their romance. He wanted to pet the boy. - -“Come here, little monkey,” he said, “and let me look at you!” - -The boy jumped down from the sofa and ran to Belayeff. - -“Well,” the latter began, laying his hand on the boy’s thin shoulder. -“And how are you? Is everything all right with you?” - -“No, not very. It used to be much better.” - -“In what way?” - -“That’s easy to answer. Sonia and I used to learn only music and reading -before, but now we have French verses, too. You have cut your beard!” - -“Yes.” - -“So I noticed. It is shorter than it was. Please let me touch it—does -that hurt?” - -“No, not a bit.” - -“Why does it hurt if you pull one hair at a time, and not a bit if you -pull lots? Ha! Ha! I’ll tell you something. You ought to wear whiskers! -You could shave here on the sides, here, and here you could let the hair -grow——” - -The boy nestled close to Belayeff and began to play with his -watch-chain. - -“Mamma is going to give me a watch when I go to school, and I am going -to ask her to give me a chain just like yours—Oh, what a lovely locket! -Papa has a locket just like that; only yours has little stripes on it, -and papa’s has letters. He has a portrait of mamma in his locket. Papa -wears another watch-chain now made of ribbon.” - -“How do you know? Do you ever see your papa?” - -“I—n-no—I——” - -Aliosha blushed deeply at being caught telling a fib and began to -scratch the locket furiously with his nail. Belayeff looked searchingly -into his face and repeated: - -“Do you ever see your papa?” - -“N-no!” - -“Come, tell me honestly! I can see by your face that you are not telling -the truth. It’s no use quibbling now that the cat is out of the bag. -Tell me, do you see him? Now then, as between friends!” - -Aliosha reflected. - -“You won’t tell mamma?” he asked. - -“What an idea!” - -“Honour bright?” - -“Honour bright!” - -“Promise!” - -“Oh, you insufferable child! What do you take me for?” - -Aliosha glanced around, opened his eyes wide, and said: - -“For heaven’s sake don’t tell mamma! Don’t tell a soul, because it’s a -secret. I don’t know what would happen to Sonia and Pelagia and me if -mamma should find out. Now, listen. Sonia and I see papa every Thursday -and every Friday. When Pelagia takes us out walking before dinner we go -to Anfel’s confectionery and there we find papa already waiting for us. -He is always sitting in the little private room with the marble table -and the ash-tray that’s made like a goose without a back.” - -“What do you do in there?” - -“We don’t do anything. First we say how do you do, and then papa orders -coffee and pasties for us. Sonia likes pasties with meat, you know, but -I can’t abide them with meat. I like mine with cabbage or eggs. We eat -so much that we have a hard time eating our dinner afterward so that -mamma won’t guess anything.” - -“What do you talk about?” - -“With papa? Oh, about everything. He kisses us and hugs us and tells us -the funniest jokes. Do you know what? He says that when we grow bigger -he is going to take us to live with him. Sonia doesn’t want to go, but I -wouldn’t mind. Of course it would be lonely without mamma, but I could -write letters to her. Isn’t it funny, we might go and see her then on -Sundays, mightn’t we? Papa says, too, he is going to buy me a pony. He -is such a nice man! I don’t know why mamma doesn’t ask him to live with -her and why she won’t let us see him. He loves mamma very much. He -always asks how she is and what she has been doing. When she was ill he -took hold of his head just like this—and ran about the room. He always -asks us whether we are obedient and respectful to her. Tell me, is it -true that we are unfortunate?” - -“H’m—why do you ask?” - -“Because papa says we are. He says we are unfortunate children, and that -he is unfortunate, and that mamma is unfortunate. He tells us to pray to -God for her and for ourselves.” - -Aliosha fixed his eyes on the figure of a stuffed bird, and became lost -in thought. - -“Well, I declare—” muttered Belayeff. “So, that’s what you do, you hold -meetings at a confectioner’s? And your mamma doesn’t know it?” - -“N-no. How could she? Pelagia wouldn’t tell her for the world. Day -before yesterday papa gave us pears. They were as sweet as sugar. I ate -two!” - -“H’m. But—listen to me, does papa ever say anything about me?” - -“About you? What shall I say?” Aliosha looked searchingly into -Belayeff’s face and shrugged his shoulders. “Nothing special,” he -answered. - -“Well, what does he say, for instance?” - -“You won’t be angry if I tell you?” - -“What an idea! Does he abuse me?” - -“No, he doesn’t abuse you, but, you know, he is angry with you. He says -that it is your fault that mamma is unhappy, and that you have ruined -mamma. He is such a funny man! I tell him that you are kind and that you -never scold mamma, but he only shakes his head.” - -“So he says I have ruined her?” - -“Yes—don’t be angry, Nikolai Ilitch!” - -Belayeff rose and began pacing up and down the room. - -“How strange this is—and how ridiculous!” he muttered shrugging his -shoulders and smiling sarcastically. “It is all _his_ fault and yet he -says _I_ have ruined her! What an innocent baby this is! And so he told -you I had ruined your mother?” - -“Yes, but—you promised not to be angry!” - -“I’m not angry and—and it is none of your business anyway. Yes, this -is—this is really ridiculous! Here I have been caught like a mouse in a -trap, and now it seems it is all my fault!” - -The door-bell rang. The boy tore himself from Belayeff’s arms and ran -out of the room. A moment later a lady entered with a little girl. It -was Aliosha’s mother, Olga Ivanovna. Aliosha skipped into the room -behind her, singing loudly and clapping his hands. Belayeff nodded and -continued to walk up and down. - -“Of course!” he muttered. “Whom should he blame but me? He has right on -his side! He is the injured husband.” - -“What is that you are saying?” asked Olga Ivanovna. - -“What am I saying? Just listen to what your young hopeful here has been -preaching. It appears that I am a wicked scoundrel and that I have -ruined you and your children. You are all unhappy, and I alone am -frightfully happy. Frightfully, frightfully happy!” - -“I don’t understand you, Nikolai. What is the matter?” - -“Just listen to what this young gentleman here has to say!” cried -Belayeff pointing to Aliosha. - -Aliosha flushed and then grew suddenly pale and his face became -distorted with fear. - -“Nikolai Ilitch!” he whispered loudly. “Hush!” - -Olga Ivanovna looked at Aliosha in surprise, and then at Belayeff, and -then back again at Aliosha. - -“Ask him!” Belayeff continued. “That idiot of yours, Pelagia, takes them -to a confectioner’s and arranges meetings there between them and their -papa. But that isn’t the point. The point is that papa is the victim, -and that I am an abandoned scoundrel who has wrecked the lives of both -of you!” - -“Nikolai Ilitch!” groaned Aliosha. “You gave me your word of honour!” - -“Leave me alone!” Belayeff motioned to him impatiently. “This is more -important than words of honour. This hypocrisy, these lies are -intolerable!” - -“I don’t understand!” cried Olga Ivanovna, the tears glistening in her -eyes. “Listen, Aliosha,” she asked, turning to her son. “Do you really -see your father?” - -But Aliosha did not hear her, his eyes were fixed with horror on -Belayeff. - -“It cannot be possible!” his mother exclaimed, “I must go and ask -Pelagia.” - -Olga Ivanovna left the room. - -“But Nikolai Ilitch, you gave me your word of honour!” cried Aliosha -trembling all over. - -Belayeff made an impatient gesture and went on pacing the floor. He was -absorbed in thoughts of the wrong that had been done him, and, as -before, was unconscious of the boy’s presence: a serious, grown-up -person like him could not be bothered with little boys. But Aliosha -crept into a corner and told Sonia with horror how he had been deceived. -He trembled and hiccoughed and cried. This was the first time in his -life that he had come roughly face to face with deceit; he had never -imagined till now that there were things in this world besides pasties -and watches and sweet pears, things for which no name could be found in -the vocabulary of childhood. - - - THE COOK’S WEDDING - -Grisha, a little urchin of seven, stood at the kitchen door with his eye -at the keyhole, watching and listening. Something was taking place in -the kitchen that seemed to him very strange and that he had never seen -happen before. At the table on which the meat and onions were usually -chopped sat a huge, burly peasant in a long coachman’s coat. His hair -and beard were red, and a large drop of perspiration hung from the tip -of his nose. He was holding his saucer on the outstretched fingers of -his right hand and, as he supped his tea, was nibbling a lump of sugar -so noisily that the goose-flesh started out on Grisha’s back. On a grimy -stool opposite him sat Grisha’s old nurse, Aksinia. She also was -drinking tea; her mien was serious and at the same time radiant with -triumph. Pelagia, the cook, was busy over the stove and seemed to be -endeavouring to conceal her face by every possible means. Grisha could -see that it was fairly on fire, burning hot, and flooded in turn with -every colour of the rainbow from dark purple to a deathly pallor. The -cook was constantly catching up knives, forks, stove-wood, and dish-rags -in her trembling hands, and was bustling about and grumbling and making -a great racket without accomplishing anything. She did not once glance -toward the table at which the other two were sitting, and replied to the -nurse’s questions abruptly and roughly without ever turning her head in -their direction. - -“Drink, drink, Danilo!” the nurse was urging the driver. “What makes you -always drink tea? Take some vodka!” - -And the nurse pushed the bottle toward her guest, her face assuming a -malicious expression. - -“No, ma’am, I don’t use it. Thank you, ma’am,” the driver replied. -“Don’t force me to drink it, goody Aksinia!” - -“What’s the matter with you? What, you a driver and won’t drink vodka? A -single man ought to drink! Come, have a little!” - -The driver rolled his eyes at the vodka and then at the malicious face -of the nurse, and his own face assumed an expression no less crafty than -hers. - -“No, no; you’ll not catch me, you old witch!” he seemed to be saying. - -“No, thank you; I don’t drink,” he answered aloud. “That foolishness -won’t do in our business. A workman can drink if he wants to because he -never budges from the same place, but we fellows live too much in -public. Don’t we now? Supposing I were to go into an inn and my horse -were to break away, or, worse still, supposing I were to get drunk and, -before I knew it, were to go to sleep and fall off the box? That’s what -happens!” - -“How much do you make a day, Danilo?” - -“That depends on the day. There are days and days. A coachman’s job -isn’t worth much now. You know yourself that drivers are as thick as -flies, hay is expensive, travellers are scarce and are always wanting to -go everywhere on horseback. But, praise be to God, we don’t complain. We -keep ourselves clothed and fed and we can even make some one else -happy—(here the driver cast a look in Pelagia’s direction)—if they want -us to!” - -Grisha did not hear what was said next. His mamma came to the door and -sent him away to the nursery to study. - -“Be off to your lessons, you have no business to be here!” she -exclaimed. - -On reaching the nursery, Grisha took up “Our Mother Tongue,” and tried -to read, but without success. The words he had just overheard had raised -a host of questions in his mind. - -“The cook is going to be married,” he thought. “That is strange. I don’t -understand why she wants to be married. Mamma married papa and Cousin -Vera married Pavel Andreitch, but papa and Pavel Andreitch have gold -watch-chains and nice clothes and their boots are always clean. I can -understand any one marrying them. But this horrid driver with his red -nose and his felt boots—ugh! And why does nursie want poor Pelagia to -marry?” - -When her guest had gone, Pelagia came into the house to do the -housework. Her excitement had not subsided. Her face was red and she -looked startled. She scarcely touched the floor with her broom and swept -out every corner at least five times. She lingered in the room where -Grisha’s mamma was sitting. Solitude seemed to be irksome to her and she -longed to pour out her heart in words and to share her impressions with -some one. - -“Well, he’s gone!” she began, seeing that mamma would not open the -conversation. - -“He seems to be a nice man,” said mamma without looking up from her -embroidery. “He is sober and steady looking.” - -“My lady, I won’t marry him!” Pelagia suddenly screamed. “I declare I -won’t!” - -“Don’t be silly, you’re not a baby! Marriage is a serious thing, and you -must think it over carefully and not scream like that for no reason at -all. Do you like him?” - -“Oh, my lady!” murmured Pelagia in confusion. “He does say such -things—indeed he does!” - -“She ought to say outright she doesn’t like him,” thought Grisha. - -“What a goose you are! Tell me, do you like him?” - -“He’s an old man, my lady! Hee, hee!” - -“Listen to her!” the nurse burst out from the other end of the room. “He -isn’t forty yet! You mustn’t look a gift-horse in the mouth! Marry him -and have done with it!” - -“I won’t marry him! I won’t, I won’t!” screamed Pelagia. - -“Then you’re a donkey, you are! What in the world are you after, anyhow? -Any other woman but you would be down on her knees to him, and you say -you won’t marry him! She’s running after Grisha’s tutor, she is, my -lady; she’s setting her cap at him! Ugh, the shameless creature!” - -“Had you ever seen this Danilo before to-day?” her mistress asked -Pelagia. - -“How could I have seen him before to-day? This was the first time. -Aksinia picked him up somewhere—bad luck to him! Why must I have him -thrown at my head?” - -That day the whole family kept their eyes fixed on Pelagia’s face as she -was serving the dinner and teased her about the driver. Pelagia blushed -furiously and giggled with confusion. - -“What a shameful thing it must be to get married!” thought Grisha. “What -a horribly shameful thing!” - -The whole dinner was too salty, blood was oozing from the half-cooked -chickens, and, to complete the disaster, Pelagia kept dropping the -knives and forks and dishes as if her hands had been a pair of rickety -shelves. No one blamed her, however, for every one knew what her state -of mind must be. - -Once only did papa angrily throw down his napkin and exclaim to mamma: - -“What is this craze you have for match-making? Can’t you let them manage -it for themselves if they want to get married?” - -After dinner the neighbouring cooks and maids kept flitting in and out -of the kitchen, and were whispering together there until late in the -evening. Heaven knows how they had scented the approaching wedding! -Waking up at midnight, Grisha heard his nurse and the cook murmuring -together in his nursery behind the curtain. The nurse was trying to -convince the cook of something, and the latter was alternately sobbing -and giggling. When he fell asleep, Grisha saw in his dreams Pelagia -being spirited away by the Evil One and a witch. - -Next day quiet reigned once more, and from that time forward life in the -kitchen jogged on as if there were no such thing in the world as a -driver. Only nurse would don her new shawl from time to time and sally -forth for a couple of hours, evidently to a conference, with a serious -and triumphant expression on her face. Pelagia and the driver did not -see one another, and if any one mentioned his name to her she would fly -into a rage and exclaim: - -“Bad luck to him! As if I ever thought of him at all—ugh!” - -One evening, while Pelagia and the nurse were busily cutting out clothes -in the kitchen, mamma came in and said: - -“Of course you may marry him, Pelagia, that is your own affair, but I -want you to understand that I can’t have him living here. You know I -don’t like to have men sitting in the kitchen. Remember that! And I -can’t ever let you go out for the night.” - -“What do you take me for, my lady?” screamed Pelagia. “Why do you cast -him into my teeth? Let him fuss all he wants to! What does he mean by -hanging himself round my neck, the——” - -Looking into the kitchen one Sunday morning, Grisha was petrified with -astonishment. The room was packed to overflowing; the cooks from all the -neighbouring houses were there with the house porter, two constables, a -sergeant in his gold lace, and a boy named Filka. This Filka was -generally to be found hanging about the wash-house playing with the -dogs, but to-day he was washed and brushed and dressed in a gold-tinsel -cassock and was carrying an icon in his hands. In the middle of the -kitchen stood Pelagia in a new gingham dress with a wreath of flowers on -her head. At her side stood the driver. The young couple were flushed -and perspiring, and were blinking their eyes furiously. - -“Well, it’s time to begin,” said the sergeant after a long silence. - -A spasm passed over Pelagia’s features and she began to bawl. The -sergeant picked up a huge loaf of bread from the table, pulled the nurse -to his side, and commenced the ceremony. The driver approached the -sergeant and flopped down on his knees before him, delivering a smacking -kiss on his hand. Pelagia went mechanically after him and also flopped -down on her knees. At last the outside door opened, a gust of white mist -blew into the kitchen, and the assembly streamed out into the courtyard. - -“Poor, poor woman!” thought Grisha, listening to the cook’s sobs. “Where -are they taking her? Why don’t papa and mamma interfere?” - -After the wedding they sang and played the concertina in the laundry -until night. Mamma was annoyed because nurse smelled of vodka and -because, with all these weddings, there never was any one to put on the -samovar. Pelagia had not come in when Grisha went to bed that night. - -“Poor woman, she is crying out there somewhere in the dark,” he thought. -“And the driver is telling her to shut up!” - -Next morning the cook was back in the kitchen again. The driver came in -for a few minutes. He thanked mamma, and, casting a stern look at -Pelagia, said: - -“Keep a sharp eye on her, my lady! And you, too, Aksinia, don’t let her -alone; make her behave herself. No nonsense for her! And please let me -have five roubles of her wages, my lady, to buy myself a new pair of -hames.” - -Here, then, was a fresh puzzle for Grisha! Pelagia had been free to do -as she liked and had been responsible to no one, and now suddenly, for -no reason at all, along came an unknown man who seemed somehow to have -acquired the right to control her actions and her property! Grisha grew -very sad. He was on the verge of tears and longed passionately to be -kind to this woman, who, it seemed to him, was a victim of human -violence. He ran into the storeroom, picked out the largest apple he -could find there, tiptoed into the kitchen, and, thrusting the apple -into Pelagia’s hand, rushed back as fast as his legs could carry him. - - - SHROVE TUESDAY - -“Here, Pavel, Pavel!” Pelagia Ivanovna cried, rousing her husband from a -nap. “Do go and help Stepa! He is sitting there crying again over his -lessons. It must be something he can’t understand.” - -Pavel Vasilitch got up, made the sign of the cross over his yawning -mouth, and said meekly: - -“Very well, dear.” - -The cat sleeping beside him also jumped up, stretched its tail in the -air, arched its back, and half-closed its eyes. The mice could be heard -scuttling behind the hangings. Having put on his slippers and -dressing-gown, Pavel Vasilitch passed into the dining-room all ruffled -and heavy with sleep. A second cat that had been sniffing at a plate of -cold fish on the window-sill jumped to the floor as he entered, and hid -in the cupboard. - -“Who told you to go smelling that?” Pavel Vasilitch cried with vexation, -covering the fish with a newspaper. “You’re more of a pig than a cat!” - -A door led from the dining-room into the nursery. There, at a table -disfigured with deep gouges and stains, sat Stepa, a schoolboy of ten -with tearful eyes and a petulant face. He was hugging his knees to his -chin and swaying backward and forward like a Chinese idol with his eyes -fixed angrily on the schoolbook before him. - -“So you’re learning your lessons, eh?” asked Pavel Vasilitch, yawning -and taking his seat at the table beside him. “That’s the way, sonny. -You’ve had your play and your nap, and you’ve eaten your pancakes, and -to-morrow will be Lent, a time of repentance; so now you’re at work. The -happiest day must have an end. What do those tears mean? Are your -lessons getting the better of you? It’s hard to do lessons after eating -pancakes! That’s what ails you, little sonny!” - -“Why do you laugh at the child?” calls Pelagia Ivanovna from the next -room. “Show him how to do his lessons, instead of making fun of him! Oh, -what a trial he is! He’ll be sure to get a bad mark to-morrow!” - -“What is it you don’t understand?” asked Pavel Vasilitch of Stepa. - -“This here, how to divide these fractions,” the boy answered crossly. -“The division of fractions by fractions.” - -“H’m, you little pickle, that’s easy, there’s nothing about it to -understand. You must do the sum right, that’s all. To divide one -fraction by another you multiply the numerator of the first by the -denominator of the second in order to get the numerator of the quotient. -Very well. Now the denominator of the first——” - -“I know that already!” Stepa interrupted him, flicking a nutshell off -the table. “Show me an example.” - -“An example? Very well, let me have a pencil. Now, then, listen to me. -Supposing that we want to divide seven-eighths by two-fifths. Very well, -then the proposition is this: we want to divide these two fractions by -one another—Is the samovar boiling?” - -“I don’t know.” - -“Because it’s eight o’clock and time for tea. Very well, now listen to -me. Supposing that we divide seven-eighths not by two-fifths, but by -two, that is by the numerator only. What is the answer?” - -“Seven-sixteenths.” - -“Splendid! Good boy! Now, then, sonny, the trick is this: as we have -divided—let me see—as we have divided it by two, of course—wait a -minute, I’m getting muddled myself. I remember when I was a boy at -school we had a Polish arithmetic master named Sigismund Urbanitch, who -used to get muddled over every lesson. He would suddenly lose his wits -while he was in the midst of demonstrating a proposition, blush to the -roots of his hair, and rush about the classroom as if the devil were -after him. Then he would blow his nose four or five times and burst into -tears. But we were generous to him, we used to pretend not to notice it, -and would ask him whether he had the toothache. And yet we were a class -of pirates, of cutthroats, I can tell you, but, as you see, we were -generous. We boys weren’t puny like you when I was a youngster; we were -great big chaps, you never saw such great strapping fellows! There was -Mamakin, for instance, in the third grade. Lord! What a giant he was! -Why, that colossus was seven feet high! The whole house shook when he -walked across the floor and he would knock the breath out of your body -if he laid his hand on your shoulder. Not only we boys, but even the -masters feared him. Why Mamakin would sometimes——” - -Pelagia Ivanovna’s footsteps resounded in the next room. Pavel Vasilitch -winked at the door and whispered: - -“Mother’s coming, let’s get to work! Very well, then, sonny,” he -continued, raising his voice. “We want to divide this fraction by that -one. All right. To do that we must multiply the numerator of the first -by——” - -“Come in to tea!” called Pelagia Ivanovna. - -Father and son left their arithmetic and went in to tea. Pelagia -Ivanovna was already seated at the dining-table with the silent aunt and -another aunt who was deaf and dumb and old granny Markovna, who had -assisted Stepa into the world. The samovar was hissing and emitting jets -of steam that settled in large, dark shadows upon the ceiling. The cats -came in from the hall, sleepy, melancholy, their tails standing straight -up in the air. - -“Do have some preserves with your tea, Markovna!” said Pelagia Ivanovna -turning to the old dame. “To-morrow will be Lent, so you must eat all -you can.” - -Markovna helped herself to a large spoonful of jam, raised it to her -lips, and swallowed it with a sidelong glance at Pavel Vasilitch. Next -moment a sweet smile broke over her face, a smile almost as sweet as the -jam itself. - -“These preserves are perfectly delicious!” she exclaimed. “Did you make -them yourself, Pelagia Ivanovna, dearie?” - -“Yes, of course, who else could have made them? I do everything myself. -Stepa, darling, was your tea too weak for you? Mercy, you’ve finished it -already! Come, hand me your cup, sweetheart, and let me give you some -more.” - -“That young Mamakin I was telling you about, sonny,” continued Pavel -Vasilitch, turning to Stepa, “couldn’t abide our French teacher. ‘I’m a -gentleman!’ he used to exclaim. ‘I won’t be lorded over by a Frenchman!’ -Of course he used to be flogged for it, and badly flogged, too. When he -knew he was in for a thrashing he used to jump through the window and -take to his heels, not showing his nose in school after that for five or -six days. Then his mother would go to the head master and beg him for -pity’s sake to find her Mishka and give the scoundrel a thrashing, but -the head master used to say: ‘That’s all very well, madam, but no five -of our men can hold that fellow!’” - -“My goodness, what dreadful boys there are in the world!” whispered -Pelagia Ivanovna, fixing terrified eyes on her husband. “His poor -mother!” - -A silence followed—Stepa yawned loudly as he contemplated the Chinaman -on the tea-caddy whom he had seen at least a thousand times before. -Markovna and the two aunts sipped their tea primly from their saucers. -The air was close and oppressive with the heat of the stove. The -lassitude that comes to the satiated body when it is forced to continue -eating was depicted on the faces and in the movements of the family. The -samovar had been taken away and the table had been cleared, but they -still continued to sit about the board. Pelagia Ivanovna jumped up from -time to time and ran into the kitchen with a look of horror on her face -to confer with the cook about supper. The aunts both sat motionless in -the same position, dozing with their hands folded on their chests and -their lack-lustre eyes fixed on the lamp. Markovna kept hiccoughing -every minute and asked each time: - -“I wonder what makes me hiccough? I don’t know what I could have eaten -or drunk—hick!” - -Pavel Vasilitch and Stepa leaned over the table side by side with their -heads together, poring over the pages of the _Neva Magazine_ for the -year 1878. - -“‘The monument to Leonardo da Vinci in front of the Victor Emmanuel -Museum at Milan.’ Look at that, it’s like a triumphal arch! And there -are a man and a lady, and there are some more little people——” - -“That looks like one of the boys at our school,” Stepa said. - -“Turn over the page—‘The Proboscis of the House Fly as Seen through the -Microscope.’ Goodness what a fly! I wonder what a bedbug would look like -under the microscope, eh? How disgusting!” - -The ancient hall clock coughed rather than struck ten times, as if it -were afflicted with a cold. Into the dining-room came Anna the cook and -fell flop at her master’s feet. - -“Forgive me my sins, master, for Christ’s sake!” she cried and got up -again very red in the face. - -“Forgive me mine, too, for Christ’s sake!” answered Pavel Vasilitch -calmly. - -Anna then fell down at the feet of every member of the family in turn -and asked forgiveness for her sins, omitting only Markovna, who, not -being high-born, was unworthy of a prostration. - -Another half-hour passed in silence and peace. The _Neva_ was tossed -aside onto the sofa and Pavel Vasilitch, with one finger raised aloft, -was reciting Latin poetry he had learned in his youth. Stepa was -watching his father’s finger with its wedding-ring and dozing as he -listened to the words he could not understand. He rubbed his heavy eyes -with his fist but they kept closing tighter and tighter each time. - -“I’m going to bed!” he said at last, stretching and yawning. - -“What? To bed?” cried Pelagia Ivanovna. “Won’t you eat your meat for the -last time before Lent?” - -“I don’t want any meat.” - -“Have you taken leave of your senses?” his startled mother exclaimed. -“How can you say that? You won’t have any meat after to-night for the -whole of Lent!” - -Pavel Vasilitch was startled, too. - -“Yes, yes, sonny,” he cried. “Your mother will give you nothing but -Lenten fare for seven weeks after to-night. This won’t do. You must eat -your meat!” - -“But I want to go to bed!” whimpered Stepa. - -“Then bring in the supper quick!” cried Pavel Vasilitch in a flutter. -“Anna, what are you doing in there, you old slow-coach? Come quick and -bring in the supper!” - -Pelagia Ivanovna threw up her hands and rushed into the kitchen as if -the house were afire. - -“Hurry! Hurry!” rang through the house. “Stepa wants to go to bed! Anna! -Oh, heavens, what is the matter? Hurry!” - -In five minutes the supper was on the table. The cats appeared once -more, stretching and arching their backs, with their tails in the air. -The family applied themselves to their meal. No one was hungry, all were -surfeited to the point of bursting, but they felt it was their duty to -eat. - - - IN PASSION WEEK - -“Run, the church-bells are ringing! Be a good boy in church and don’t -play! If you do, God will punish you!” - -My mother slipped a few copper coins into my hand and then forgot all -about me, as she ran into the kitchen with an iron that was growing -cold. I knew I should not be allowed to eat or drink after confession, -so before leaving home I choked down a crust of bread and drank two -glasses of water. Spring was at its height. The street was a sea of -brown mud through which ruts were already in process of being worn; the -housetops and sidewalks were dry, and the tender young green of -springtime was pushing up through last year’s dry grass under the fence -rows. Muddy rivulets were babbling and murmuring down the gutters in -which the sun did not disdain to lave its rays. Chips, bits of straw, -and nutshells were floating swiftly down with the current, twisting and -turning and catching on the dirty foam flakes. Whither, whither were -they drifting? Would they not be swept from the gutter into the river, -from the river into the sea, and from the sea into the mighty ocean? I -tried to picture to myself the long and terrible journey before them, -but my imagination failed even before reaching the river. - -A cab drove by. The cabman was clucking to his horse and slapping the -reins, unaware of two street-urchins hanging from the springs of his -little carriage. I wanted to join these boys, but straightway remembered -that I was on my way to confession, whereupon the boys appeared to me to -be very wicked sinners indeed. - -“God will ask them on the Last Judgment Day why they played tricks on a -poor cabman,” I thought. “They will begin to make excuses, but the devil -will grab them and throw them into eternal fire. But if they obey their -fathers and mothers and give pennies and bread to the beggars, God will -have mercy on them and will let them into Paradise.” - -The church porch was sunny and dry. Not a soul was there; I opened the -church door irresolutely and entered the building. There, in the dim -light more fraught with melancholy and gloom for me than ever before, I -became overwhelmed by the consciousness of my wickedness and sin. The -first object that met my sight was a huge crucifixion with the Virgin -and St. John the Baptist on either side of the cross. The lustres and -shutters were hung with mourning black, the icon lamps were glimmering -faintly, and the sun seemed to be purposely avoiding the church windows. -The Mother of God and the favourite Disciple were depicted in profile -silently gazing at that unutterable agony upon the cross, oblivious of -my presence. I felt that I was a stranger to them, paltry and vile; that -I could not help them by word or deed; that I was a horrid, worthless -boy, fit only to chatter and be naughty and rough. I called to mind all -my acquaintances, and they all seemed to me to be trivial and silly and -wicked, incapable of consoling one atom the terrible grief before me. -The murky twilight deepened, the Mother of God and John the Baptist -seemed very lonely. - -Behind the lectern where the candles were sold stood the old soldier -Prokofi, now churchwarden’s assistant. - -His eyebrows were raised and he was stroking his beard and whispering to -an old woman. - -“The service will begin directly after vespers this evening. There will -be prayers after matins to-morrow at eight o’clock. Do you hear me? At -eight o’clock.” - -Between two large pillars near the rood-screen the penitents were -standing in line waiting their turn for confession. Among them was -Mitka, a ragged little brat with an ugly, shaven head, protruding ears, -and small, wicked eyes. He was the son of Nastasia the washerwoman, and -was a bully and a thief who filched apples from the fruit-stalls and had -more than once made away with my knuckle-bones. He was now staring -crossly at me and seemed to be exulting in the fact that he was going to -confession before me. My heart swelled with rage and I tried not to look -at him. From the bottom of my soul I was furious that this boy’s sins -were about to be forgiven. - -In front of him stood a richly dressed lady with a white plume in her -hat. Clearly she was deeply agitated and tensely expectant, and one of -her cheeks was burning with a feverish flush. - -I waited five minutes, ten minutes—then a well-dressed young man with a -long, thin neck came out from behind the screen. He had on high rubber -goloshes, and I at once began dreaming of the day when I should buy a -pair of goloshes like his for myself. I decided that I would certainly -do so. And now came the lady’s turn. She shuddered and went behind the -screen. - -Through a crack I could see her approach the altar, prostrate herself, -rise, and bow her head expectantly without looking at the priest. The -priest’s back was turned toward the screen, and all I could see of him -was his broad shoulders, his curly grey hair, and the chain around his -neck from which a cross was suspended. Sighing, without looking at the -lady, he began nodding his head and whispering rapidly, now raising, now -lowering his voice. The lady listened meekly, guiltily almost, with -downcast eyes, and answered him in a few words. - -“What can be her sin?” I wondered, looking reverently at her beautiful, -gentle face. “Forgive her, God, and make her happy!” - -But now the priest was covering her head with the stole. - -“I, Thy unworthy servant,” his voice rang out, “by the power vouchsafed -me, forgive this woman and absolve her from sin——” - -The lady prostrated herself once more, kissed the cross, and retired. -Both her cheeks were flushed now, but her face was calm, and unclouded, -and joyous. - -“She is happy now,” I thought, my eye wandering from her to the priest -pronouncing the absolution. “But how happy he must be who is able to -forgive sin!” - -It was Mitka’s turn next, and my heart suddenly boiled over with hatred -for the little thief. I wanted to go behind the screen ahead of him, I -wanted to be first. Mitka noticed the movement, and hit me on the head -with a candle. I paid him back in his own coin, and for a moment sounds -of panting and the breaking of candles were heard in the church. We were -forcibly parted, and my enemy nervously and stiffly approached the altar -and bowed to the ground, but what happened after that I was unable to -see. All I could think of was that I was going next, after Mitka, and at -that thought the objects around me danced and swam before my eyes. -Mitka’s protruding ears grew larger than ever and melted into the back -of his neck, the priest swayed, and the floor rocked under my feet. - -The priest’s voice rang out: - -“I, Thy unworthy servant——” - -I found myself moving toward the screen. My feet seemed to be treading -on air. I felt as if I were floating. I reached the altar, which was -higher than my head. The weary, dispassionate face of the priest flashed -for a moment across my vision, but after that I saw only his blue-lined -sleeves and one corner of the stole. I felt his near presence, smelled -the odour of his cassock, and heard his stern voice, and the cheek that -was turned toward him began to burn. I lost much of what he said from -excitement, but I answered him earnestly, in a voice that sounded to me -as if it were not my own. I thought of the lonely Mother of God, and the -Disciple, and the crucifixion, and my mother, and wanted to cry and ask -for forgiveness. - -“What is your name?” asked the priest, laying the stole over my head. - -How relieved I now felt, and how light of heart! My sins were gone, I -was sanctified. I could enter into Paradise. It seemed to me that I -exhaled the same odour as the priest’s cassock, and I sniffed my sleeve -as I came out from behind the screen and went to the deacon to register. -The dim half-light of the church no longer struck me as gloomy, and I -could now look calmly and without anger at Mitka. - -“What is your name?” asked the deacon. - -“Fedia.” - -“Fedia, what?” - -“I don’t know.” - -“What is your daddy’s name?” - -“Ivan.” - -“And his other name?” - -I was silent. - -“How old are you?” - -“Nine years old.” - -On reaching home I went straight to bed to avoid seeing my family at -supper. Shutting my eyes, I lay thinking of how glorious it would be to -be martyred by Herod or some one; to live in a desert feeding bears like -the hermit Seraphim; to pass one’s life in a cell with nothing to eat -but wafers; to give away all one possessed to the poor; to make a -pilgrimage to Kief. I could hear them laying the table in the -dining-room; supper would soon be ready! There would be pickles and -cabbage pasties and baked fish—oh, how hungry I was! I now felt willing -to endure any torture whatsoever, to live in the desert without my -mother, feeding bears out of my own hands, if only I could have just one -little cabbage pasty first! - -“Purify my heart, O God!” I prayed, pulling the bedclothes up over my -head. “O guardian angels, save me from sin!” - -Next morning, Thursday, I woke with a heart as serene and joyful as a -spring day. I walked gaily and manfully to church, conscious that I was -now a communicant and that I was wearing a beautiful and expensive shirt -made from a silk dress left me by my grandmamma. Everything in church -spoke of joy and happiness and springtime. The Mother of God and John -the Baptist looked less sad than they had the evening before, and the -faces of the communicants were radiant with anticipation. The past, it -seemed, was all forgiven and forgotten. Mitka was there, washed and -dressed in his Sunday best. I looked cheerfully at his protruding ears, -and, to show that I bore him no malice, I said: - -“You look fine to-day. If your hair didn’t stick up so and you weren’t -so poorly dressed one might almost think your mother was a lady instead -of a washerwoman. Come and play knuckle-bones with me on Easter Day!” - -Mitka looked suspiciously at me and secretly threatened me with his -fist. - -The lady of yesterday was radiantly beautiful. She wore a light blue -dress fastened with a large, flashing brooch shaped like a horseshoe. - -I stood and admired her, thinking that when I grew to be a man I should -certainly marry a woman like her, but, remembering suddenly that to -think of marriage was shameful, I stopped, and moved toward the choir -where the deacon was already reading the prayers that concluded the -service. - - - AN INCIDENT - -It was morning. Bright rays of sunlight were streaming into the nursery -through the lacy curtain that the frost had drawn across the panes of -the windows. Vania, a boy of six with a shaven head and a nose like a -button, and his sister Nina, a chubby, curly-haired girl of four, woke -from their sleep and stared crossly at one another through the bars of -their cribs. - -“Oh, shame, shame!” grumbled nursie. “All good folks have had breakfast -by now and your eyes are still half-closed!” - -The sun’s rays were chasing each other merrily across the carpet, the -walls, and the tail of nursie’s dress, and seemed to be inviting the -children to a romp, but they did not notice the sun, they had waked in a -bad humour. Nina pouted, made a wry face, and began to whine: - -“Tea, nursie, I want my tea!” - -Vania frowned and wondered how he could manage to quarrel and so find an -excuse to bawl. He was already winking his eyes and opening his mouth -when mamma’s voice came from the dining-room saying: - -“Don’t forget to give the cat some milk; she has kittens now!” - -Vania and Nina pulled long faces and looked dubiously at one another; -then they both screamed, jumped out of bed, and scampered into the -kitchen as they were, barefooted and in their little nightgowns, filling -the air with shrill squeals as they ran. - -“The cat has kittens! The cat has kittens!” they shrieked. - -Under a bench in the kitchen stood a box, the same box which Stepan used -for carrying coal when fires were lighted in the fire-places. Out of -this box peered the cat. Profound weariness was manifested in her face, -and her green eyes with their narrow black pupils wore an expression -both languid and sentimental. One could see from her mien that if “he,” -the father of her children, were but with her, her happiness would be -complete. She opened her mouth wide and tried to mew but her throat only -emitted a wheezing sound. The squeaking of her kittens came from inside -the box. - -The children squatted down on their heels near the box, motionless, -holding their breath, their eyes riveted on the cat. They were dumb with -wonder and amazement and did not hear their nurse as she grumblingly -pursued them. Unaffected pleasure shone in the eyes of both. - -In the lives and education of children domestic animals play a useful if -inconspicuous part. Who does not remember some strong, noble watch-dog -of his childhood, some petted spaniel, or the birds that died in -captivity? Who does not recall the stupid, arrogant turkeys, and the -meek old tabby-cats that were always ready to forgive us even when we -stepped on their tails for fun and caused them the keenest pain? I -sometimes think that the loyalty, patience, capacity for forgiveness, -and fidelity of our domestic animals have a far greater and more potent -influence over the minds of children than the long discourses of some -pale, prosy German tutor or the hazy explanations of a governess who -tries to tell them that water is compounded of oxygen and hydrogen. - -“Oh, how tiny they are!” cried Nina, staring at the kittens round-eyed -and breaking into a merry peal of laughter—“They look like mice!” - -“One, two, three—” counted Vania. “Three kittens. That means one for me -and one for you and one for some one else.” - -“Murrm-murr-r-r-m,” purred the cat, flattered at receiving so much -attention. “Murr-r-m.” - -When they were tired of looking at the kittens, the children took them -out from under the cat and began squeezing and pinching them; then, not -satisfied with this, they wrapped them in the hems of their nightgowns -and ran with them into the drawing-room. - -Their mother was sitting there with a strange man. When she saw the -children come in not dressed, not washed, with their nightgowns in the -air she blushed and looked sternly at them. - -“For shame! Let your nightgowns down!” she cried. “Go away or else I -shall have to punish you!” - -But the children heeded neither the threats of their mother nor the -presence of the stranger. They laid the kittens down on the carpet and -raised their voices in shrill vociferation. The mother cat roamed about -at their feet and mewed beseechingly. A moment later the children were -seized and borne off into the nursery to be dressed and fed and to say -their prayers, but their hearts were full of passionate longing to have -done with these prosaic duties as quickly as possible and to escape once -more into the kitchen. - -Their usual games and occupations faded into the background. - -By their arrival in the world the kittens had eclipsed everything else -and had taken their place as the one engrossing novelty and passion of -the day. If Vania or Nina had been offered a ton of candy or a thousand -pennies for each one of the kittens they would have refused the bargain -without a moment’s hesitation. They sat over the kittens in the kitchen -until the very moment for dinner, in spite of the vigorous protests of -their nurse and of the cook. The expression on their faces was serious, -absorbed, and full of anxiety. They were worrying not only over the -present, but also over the future of the kittens. They decided that one -should stay at home with the old cat to console its mother, the second -should go to the cottage in the country, and the third should live in -the cellar where there were so many rats. - -“But why don’t they open their eyes?” Nina puzzled. “They are blind, -like beggars!” - -Vania, too, was perturbed by this phenomenon. He set to work to open the -eyes of one of the kittens, and puffed and snuffled over his task for a -long time, but the operation proved to be unsuccessful. The children -were also not a little worried because the kittens obstinately refused -all meat and milk set before them. Their grey mother ate everything that -was put under their little noses. - -“Come on, let’s make some little houses for the kitties!” Vania -suggested. “Then they can live in their own separate homes and the old -kitty can come and visit them.” - -They put hat-boxes in various corners of the kitchen, and the kittens -were transferred to their new homes. But this family separation proved -to be premature. With the same imploring, sentimental look on her face, -the cat made the round of the boxes and carried her babies back to their -former nest. - -“Kitty is their mother,” Vania reflected. “But who is their father?” - -“Yes, who is their father?” Nina repeated. - -“They _must_ have a father,” both decided. - -Vania and Nina debated for a long time as to who should be the father of -the kittens. At last their choice fell upon a large dark-red horse with -a broken tail who had been thrown into a cupboard under the stairs and -there lay awaiting his end in company with other rubbish and broken -toys. This horse they dragged forth and set up beside the box. - -“Mind now!” the children admonished him. “Stand there and see they -behave themselves!” - -Shortly before dinner Vania was sitting at the table in his father’s -study dreamily watching a kitten that lay squirming on the -blotting-paper under the lamp. His eyes were following each movement of -the little creature and he was trying to force first a pencil and then a -match into its mouth. Suddenly his father appeared beside the table as -if he had sprung from the floor. - -“What’s that?” Vania heard him ask in an angry voice. - -“It’s—it’s a little kitty, papa.” - -“I’ll show you a little kitty! Look what you’ve done, you bad boy, -you’ve messed up the whole blotter!” - -To Vania’s intense surprise, his papa did not share his affection for -kittens. Instead of going into raptures and rejoicing over it with him, -he pulled Vania’s ear and shouted: - -“Stepan! Come and take this nasty thing away!” - -At dinner, too, a scandal occurred. During the second course the family -suddenly heard a faint squeaking. A search for the cause was made and a -kitten was discovered under Nina’s apron. - -“Nina, leave the table at once!” cried her father angrily. “Stepan, -throw the kittens into the slop-barrel this minute! I won’t have such -filth in the house!” - -Vania and Nina were horrified. Apart from its cruelty, death in the -slop-barrel threatened to deprive the old cat and the wooden horse of -their children, to leave the box deserted, and to upset all their plans -for the future, that beautiful future in which one cat would take care -of its old mother, one would live in the country, and the third would -catch rats in the cellar. The children began to cry and to beg for the -lives of the kittens. Their father consented to spare them on condition -that the children should under no circumstances go into the kitchen or -touch the kittens. - -When dinner was over, Vania and Nina roamed disconsolately through the -house, pining for their pets. The prohibition to enter the kitchen had -plunged them in gloom. They refused candy when it was offered them and -were cross and rude to their mother. When their Uncle Peter came in the -evening they took him aside and complained to him of their father who -wanted to throw the kittens into the slop-barrel. - -“Uncle Peter,” they begged. “Tell mamma to have the kittens brought into -the nursery! Do tell her!” - -“All right, all right!” their uncle consented to get rid of them. - -Uncle Peter seldom came alone. There generally appeared with him Nero, a -big black Dane with flapping ears and a tail as hard as a stick. He was -a silent and gloomy dog, full of the consciousness of his own dignity. -He ignored the children and thumped them with his tail as he stalked by -them as if they had been chairs. The children cordially hated him, but -this time practical considerations triumphed over sentiment. - -“Do you know what, Nina?” said Vania, opening his eyes very wide. “Let’s -make Nero their father instead of the horse! The horse is dead and he is -alive.” - -They waited all the evening for the time to come when papa should sit -down to his whist and Nero might be admitted into the kitchen. At last -papa began playing. Mamma was busy over the samovar and was not noticing -the children—the happy moment had come! - -“Come on!” Vania whispered to his sister. - -But just then Stepan came into the room and announced with a smile: - -“Madame, Nero has eaten the kittens!” - -Nina and Vania paled and looked at Stepan in horror. - -“Indeed he has!” chuckled the butler. “He has found the box and eaten -every one!” - -The children imagined that every soul in the house would spring up in -alarm and fling themselves upon that wicked Nero. But instead of this -they all sat quietly in their places and only seemed surprised at the -appetite of the great dog. Papa and mamma laughed. Nero walked round the -table wagging his tail and licking his chops with great -self-satisfaction. Only the cat was uneasy. With her tail in the air she -roamed through the house, looking suspiciously at every one and mewing -pitifully. - -“Children, it’s ten o’clock! Go to bed!” cried mamma. - -Vania and Nina went to bed crying and lay for a long time thinking about -the poor, abused kitty and that horrid, cruel, unpunished Nero. - - - A MATTER OF CLASSICS - -Before going to take his Greek examination, Vania Ottopeloff devoutly -kissed every icon in the house. He felt a load on his chest and his -blood ran cold, while his heart beat madly and sank into his boots for -fear of the unknown. What would become of him to-day? Would he get a B -or a C? He asked his mother’s blessing six times over, and, as he left -the house, he begged his aunt to pray for him. On his way to school he -gave two copecks to a beggar, hoping that these two coins might redeem -him from ignorance and that God would not let those numeral nouns with -their terrible “Tessarakontas” and “Oktokaidekas” get in his way. - -He came back from school late, at five o’clock, and went silently to his -room to lie down. His thin cheeks were white and dark circles surrounded -his eyes. - -“Well? What happened? What did you get?” asked his mother coming to his -bedside. - -Vania blinked, made a wry face, and burst into tears. Mamma’s jaw -dropped, she grew pale and threw up her hands, letting fall a pair of -trousers which she had been mending. - -“What are you crying for? You have failed, I suppose?” she asked. - -“Yes, I’ve—I’ve been plucked. I got a C.” - -“I knew that would happen, I had a presentiment that it would!” his -mother exclaimed. “The Lord have mercy on us! What did you fail in?” - -“In Greek—Oh, mother—they asked me the future of Phero and, instead of -answering Oisomai, I answered Opsomai; and then—and then the accent is -not used if the last syllable is a diphthong, but—but I got confused, I -forgot that the alpha was long and put on the accent. Then we had to -decline Artaxerxes and I got muddled and made a mistake in the -ablative—so he gave me a C—Oh, I’m the unhappiest boy in the whole -world! I worked all last night—I have got up at four every morning this -week——” - -“No, it is not you who are unhappy, you good-for-nothing boy, it is I! -You have worn me as thin as a rail, you monster, you thorn in my flesh, -you wicked burden on your parents! I have wept for you, I have broken my -back working for you, you worthless trifler, and what is my reward? Have -you learned a thing?” - -“I—I study—all night—you see that yourself——” - -“I have prayed God to send death to deliver me, poor sinner, but death -will not come. You bane of my existence! Other people have decent -children, but my only child isn’t worth a pin. Shall I beat you? I would -if I could, but where shall I get the strength to do it? Mother of God, -where shall I get the strength?” - -Mamma covered her face with the hem of her dress and burst into tears. -Vania squirmed with grief and pressed his forehead against the wall. His -aunt came in. - -“There, now, I had a presentiment of this!” she exclaimed, turning pale -and throwing up her hands as she guessed at once what had happened. “I -felt low in my mind all this morning; I knew we should have trouble, and -here it is!” - -“You viper! You bane of my existence!” exclaimed Vania’s mother. - -“Why do you abuse him?” the boy’s aunt scolded the mother, nervously -pulling off the coffee-coloured kerchief she wore on her head. “How is -he to blame? It is your fault! Yours! Why did you send him to that -school? What sort of lady are you? Do you want to climb up among the -gentlefolk? Aha! You will certainly get there at this rate! If you had -done as I told you, you would have put him into business as I did my -Kuzia. There’s Kuzia now making five hundred roubles a year. Is that -such a trifle that you can afford to laugh at it? You have tortured -yourself and tortured the boy with all this book-learning, worse luck to -it! See how thin he is! Hear him cough! He is thirteen years old and he -looks more like ten.” - -“No, Nastenka, no, darling, I haven’t beaten that tormentor of mine -much, and beating is what he needs. Ugh! You Jesuit! You Mohammedan! You -thorn in my flesh!” she cried, raising her hand as if to strike her son. -“I should thrash you if I had the strength. People used to say to me -when he was still little: ‘Beat him! Beat him!’ But I didn’t listen to -them, unhappy woman that I am! So now I have to suffer for it. But wait -a bit, I’ll have your ears boxed! Wait a bit——” - -His mother shook her fist at him and went weeping into the room occupied -by her lodger, Eftiki Kuporosoff. The lodger was sitting at his table -reading “Dancing Self-Taught.” This Kuporosoff was considered a clever -and learned person. He spoke through his nose, washed with scented soap -that made every one in the house sneeze, ate meat on fast-days, and was -looking for an enlightened wife; for these reasons he thought himself an -extremely intellectual lodger. He also possessed a tenor voice. - -“Dear me!” cried Vania’s mother, running into his room with the tears -streaming down her cheeks. “Do be so very kind as to thrash my boy! Oh, -_do_ do me that favour! He has failed in his examinations! Oh, misery -me! Can you believe it, he has failed! I can’t punish him myself on -account of being so weak and in bad health, so do thrash him for me! Be -kind, be chivalrous and do it for me, Mr. Kuporosoff! Have mercy on a -sick woman!” - -Kuporosoff frowned and heaved a very deep sigh through his nostrils. He -reflected, drummed on the table with his fingers, sighed once more, and -went into Vania’s room. - -“Look here!” he began his harangue. “Your parents are trying to educate -you, aren’t they, and give you a start in life, you miserable young man? -Then why do you act like this?” - -He held forth for a long time, he made quite a speech. He referred to -science, and to darkness and light. - -“Yes, indeed, young man!” he exclaimed from time to time. - -When he had concluded, he took off his belt and caught hold of Vania’s -ear. - -“This is the only way to treat you!” he exclaimed. - -Vania knelt down obediently and put his head on Kuporosoff’s knees. His -large pink ears rubbed against Kuporosoff’s new brown-striped trousers. - -Vania made not a sound. That evening at a family conclave it was decided -to put him into business at once. - - - THE TUTOR - -The high-school boy Gregory Ziboroff condescendingly shakes hands with -little Pete Udodoff. Pete, a chubby youngster of twelve with bristling -hair, red cheeks, and a low forehead, dressed in a little grey suit, -bows and scrapes, and reaches into the cupboard for his books. The -lesson begins. - -According to an agreement made with Udodoff, the father, Ziboroff is to -help Pete with his lessons for two hours each day, in return for which -he is to receive six roubles a month. He is preparing the boy for the -second grade of the high-school. He prepared him for the first grade -last year, but little Pete failed to pass his examinations. - -“Very well,” begins Ziboroff lighting a cigarette. “You had the fourth -declension to study. Decline fructus!” - -Peter begins to decline it. - -“There, you haven’t studied again!” cries Ziboroff rising. “This is the -sixth time I have given you the fourth declension to learn, and you -can’t get it through your head! For heaven’s sake, when will you ever -begin to study your lessons?” - -“What, you haven’t studied again?” exclaims a wheezing voice in the next -room and Pete’s papa, a retired civil servant, enters. “Why haven’t you -studied? Oh, you little donkey! Just think, Gregory, I had to thrash him -again yesterday!” - -Sighing profoundly, Udodoff sits down beside his son and opens the boy’s -ragged grammar. Ziboroff begins examining Pete before his father, -thinking to himself: “I’ll just show that stupid father what a stupid -son he has!” The high-school boy is seized with the fury of the examiner -and is ready to beat the little red-cheeked numskull before him, he -hates and despises him so. He is even annoyed when the youngster hits on -the right answer to one of his questions. How odious this little Pete -seems to him! - -“You don’t even know the second declension! You don’t even know the -first! This is the way you learn your lessons! Come, tell me, what is -the vocative of meus filius?” - -“The vocative of meus filius? Why the vocative of meus filius is—it -is——” - -Pete stares hard at the ceiling and moves his lips inaudibly. No answer -comes. - -“What is the dative of dea?” - -“Deabus—filiabus!” Pete bursts out. - -Old Udodoff nods approvingly. The high-school boy, who was not expecting -a correct answer, feels annoyed. - -“What other nouns have their dative in abus?” he asks. - -It appears that anima, the soul, has its dative in abus, something that -is not to be found in any grammar. - -“What a melodious language Latin is!” observes Udodoff. -“Alontron—bonus—anthropos—how marvellous! It is all very important!” he -concludes with a sigh. - -“The old brute is interrupting the lesson,” thinks Ziboroff. “Sitting -over us like an inspector—I hate to be bossed! Now, then!” he cries to -Pete. “You must learn that same lesson over again for next time. Next -we’ll do some arithmetic. Fetch your slate! I want you to do this -problem.” - -Pete spits on his slate and rubs it dry with his sleeve. His tutor picks -up the arithmetic and dictates the following problem to him. - -“‘If a merchant buys 138 yards of cloth, some of which is black and some -blue, for 540 roubles, how many yards of each did he buy if the blue -cloth cost 5 roubles a yard and the black cloth 3?’ Repeat what I have -just said.” - -Peter repeats the problem and instantly and silently begins to divide -540 by 138. - -“What are you doing? Wait a moment! No, no, go ahead! Is there a -remainder? There ought not to be. Here, let me do it!” - -Ziboroff divides 540 by 138, and finds that it goes three times and -something over. He quickly rubs out the sum. - -“How queer!” he thinks, ruffling his hair and flushing. “How should it -be done? H’m—this is an indeterminate equation and not a sum in -arithmetic at all——” - -The tutor looks in the back of the book and finds that the answer is 75 -and 63. - -“H’m—that’s queer. Ought I to add 5 and 3 and divide 540 by 8? Is that -right? No that’s not it. Come, do the sum!” he says to Pete. - -“What’s the matter with you? That’s an easy problem!” cries Udodoff to -Peter. “What a goose you are, sonny! Do it for him, Mr. Ziboroff!” - -Gregory takes the pencil and begins figuring. He hiccoughs and flushes -and pales. - -“The fact is, this is an algebraical problem,” he says. “It ought to be -solved with _x_ and _y_. But it can be done in this way, too. Very well, -I divide this by this, do you understand? Now then, I subtract it from -this, see? Or, no, let me tell you, suppose you do this sum yourself for -to-morrow. Think it out alone!” - -Pete smiles maliciously. Udodoff smiles, too. Both realize the tutor’s -perplexity. The high-school boy becomes still more violently -embarrassed, rises, and begins to walk up and down. - -“That sum can be done without the help of algebra,” says Udodoff, -sighing and reaching for the counting board. “Look here!” - -He rattles the counting board for a moment, and produces the answer 75 -and 63, which is correct. - -“That’s how we ignorant folks do it.” - -The tutor falls a prey to the most unbearably painful sensations. He -looks at the clock with a sinking heart, and sees that it still lacks an -hour and a quarter to the end of the lesson. What an eternity that is! - -“Now we will have some dictation,” he says. - -After the dictation comes a lesson in geography; after that, Bible -study; after Bible study, Russian—there is so much to learn in this -world! At last the two hours’ lesson is over, Ziboroff reaches for his -cap, condescendingly shakes hands with little Pete, and takes his leave -of Udodoff. - -“Could you let me have a little money to-day?” he asks timidly. “I must -pay my school bill to-morrow. You owe me for six months’ lessons.” - -“Oh, do I really? Oh, yes, yes—” mutters Udodoff. “I would certainly let -you have the money with pleasure, but I’m sorry to say I haven’t any -just now. Perhaps in a week—or two.” - -Ziboroff acquiesces, puts on his heavy goloshes, and goes out to give -his next lesson. - - - OUT OF SORTS - -Simon Pratchkin, a commissioner of the rural police, was walking up and -down the floor of his room trying to smother a host of disagreeable -sensations. He had gone to see the chief of police on business the -evening before, and had unexpectedly sat down to a game of cards at -which he had lost eight roubles. The amount was a trifle, but the demons -of greed and avarice were whispering in his ear the accusation that he -was a spendthrift. - -“Eight roubles—a mere nothing!” cried Pratchkin, trying to drown the -voices of the demons. “People often lose more than that without minding -it at all. Besides, money is made to spend. One trip to the factory, one -visit to Piloff’s tavern, and eight roubles would have been but a drop -in a bucket!” - - “It is winter; horse and peasant——” - -monotonously murmured Pratchkin’s son Vania, in the next room. - - “Down the road triumphant go—triumphant go——” - -“Triumphant!” Pratchkin went on, pursuing the train of his thoughts. “If -he had been stuck for a dozen roubles he wouldn’t have been so -triumphant! What is he so triumphant about? Let him pay his debts on -time! Eight roubles—what a trifle! That’s not eight thousand roubles. -One can always win eight roubles back again.” - - “And the pony trots his swiftest - For he feels the coming snow— - For he feels the coming snow.” - -“Well, he wouldn’t be likely to go at a gallop, would he? Was he -supposed to be a race-horse? He was a hack, a broken-down old hack! -Foolish, drunken peasants always want to go at breakneck speed, and -then, when they fall into an ice-hole, or down a precipice, some one has -to haul them out and doctor them. If I had my way, I’d prescribe a kind -of turpentine for them that they wouldn’t forget in a hurry! And why did -I lead a low card? If I had led the ace of clubs, I wouldn’t have fallen -into a hole myself——” - - “O’er the furrows soft and crumbling - Flies the sleigh so free and wild— - O’er the furrows soft and crumbling——” - -“Crumbling—crumbling furrows—what stuff that is! People will let those -writers scribble anything. It was that ten-spot that made all the -trouble. Why the devil did it have to turn up just at that moment?” - - “When a little boy comes tumbling—comes tumbling - Down the road a merry child—a merry child.” - -“If the boy was running he must have been overeating himself and been -naughty. Parents never will put their children to work. Instead of -playing, that boy ought to have been splitting kindling, or reading the -Bible—and I hadn’t the sense to come away! What an ass I was to stay -after supper! Why didn’t I have my meal and go home?” - - “At the window stands his mother, - Shakes her finger—shakes her finger at the boy——” - -“She shakes her finger at him, does she? The trouble with her is, she is -too lazy to go out-of-doors and punish him. She ought to catch him by -his little coat and give him a good spanking. It would do him more good -than shaking her finger at him. If she doesn’t take care, he will grow -up to be a drunkard. Who wrote that?” asked Pratchkin aloud. - -“Pushkin, papa.” - -“Pushkin? H’m. What an ass he is! People like that simply write without -knowing themselves what they are saying.” - -“Papa, here’s a peasant with a load of flour!” cried Vania. - -“Let some one take charge of it!” - -The arrival of the flour failed to cheer Pratchkin. The more he tried to -console himself, the more poignant grew his sense of loss, and he -regretted those eight roubles as keenly as if they had in reality been -eight thousand. When Vania finished studying his lesson and silence -fell, Pratchkin was standing gloomily at the window, his mournful gaze -fixed upon the snowdrifts in the garden. But the sight of the snowdrifts -only opened wider the wound in his breast. They reminded him of -yesterday’s expedition to the chief of police. His spleen rose and -embittered his heart. The need to vent his sorrow reached such a pitch -that it would brook no delay. He could endure it no longer. - -“Vania!” he shouted. “Come here and let me whip you for breaking that -window-pane yesterday!” - - - - - STORIES OF YOUTH - - - A JOKE - -It was noon of a bright winter’s day. The air was crisp with frost, and -Nadia, who was walking beside me, found her curls and the delicate down -on her upper lip silvered with her own breath. We stood at the summit of -a high hill. The ground fell away at our feet in a steep incline which -reflected the sun’s rays like a mirror. Near us lay a little sled -brightly upholstered with red. - -“Let us coast down, Nadia!” I begged. “Just once! I promise you nothing -will happen.” - -But Nadia was timid. The long slope, from where her little overshoes -were planted to the foot of the ice-clad hill, looked to her like the -wall of a terrible, yawning chasm. Her heart stopped beating, and she -held her breath as she gazed into that abyss while I urged her to take -her seat on the sled. What might not happen were she to risk a flight -over that precipice! She would die, she would go mad! - -“Come, I implore you!” I urged her again. “Don’t be afraid! It is -cowardly to fear, to be timid.” - -At last Nadia consented to go, but I could see from her face that she -did so, she thought, at the peril of her life. I seated her, all pale -and trembling, in the little sled, put my arm around her, and together -we plunged into the abyss. - -The sled flew like a shot out of a gun. The riven wind lashed our faces; -it howled and whistled in our ears, and plucked furiously at us, trying -to wrench our heads from our shoulders; its pressure stifled us; we felt -as if the devil himself had seized us in his talons, and were snatching -us with a shriek down into the infernal regions. The objects on either -hand melted into a long and madly flying streak. Another second, and it -seemed we must be lost! - -“I love you, Nadia!” I whispered. - -And now the sled began to slacken its pace, the howling of the wind and -the swish of the runners sounded less terrible, we breathed again, and -found ourselves at the foot of the mountain at last. Nadia, more dead -than alive, was breathless and pale. I helped her to her feet. - -“Not for anything in the world would I do that again!” she said, gazing -at me with wide, terror-stricken eyes. “Not for anything on earth. I -nearly died!” - -In a few minutes, however, she was herself again, and already her -inquiring eyes were asking the question of mine: - -“Had I really uttered those four words, or had she only fancied she -heard them in the tumult of the wind?” - -I stood beside her smoking a cigarette and looking attentively at my -glove. - -She took my arm and we strolled about for a long time at the foot of the -hill. It was obvious that the riddle gave her no peace. Had I spoken -those words or not? It was for her a question of pride, of honour, of -happiness, of life itself, a very important question, the most important -one in the whole world. Nadia looked at me now impatiently, now -sorrowfully, now searchingly; she answered my questions at random and -waited for me to speak. Oh, what a pretty play of expression flitted -across her sweet face! I saw that she was struggling with herself; she -longed to say something, to ask some question, but the words would not -come; she was terrified and embarrassed and happy. - -“Let me tell you something,” she said, without looking at me. - -“What?” I asked. - -“Let us—let us slide down the hill again!” - -We mounted the steps that led to the top of the hill. Once more I seated -Nadia, pale and trembling, in the little sled, once more we plunged into -that terrible abyss; once more the wind howled, and the runners hissed, -and once more, at the wildest and most tumultuous moment of our descent, -I whispered: - -“I love you, Nadia!” - -When the sleigh had come to a standstill, Nadia threw a backward look at -the hill down which we had just sped, and then gazed for a long time -into my face, listening to the calm, even tones of my voice. Every inch -of her, even her muff and her hood, every line of her little frame -expressed the utmost uncertainty. On her face was written the question: - -“What can it have been? Who spoke those words? Was it he, or was it only -my fancy?” - -The uncertainty of it was troubling her, and her patience was becoming -exhausted. The poor girl had stopped answering my questions, she was -pouting and ready to cry. - -“Had we not better go home?” I asked. - -“I—I love coasting!” she answered with a blush. “Shall we not slide down -once more?” - -She “loved” coasting, and yet, as she took her seat on the sled, she was -as trembling and pale as before and scarcely could breathe for terror! - -We coasted down for the third time and I saw her watching my face and -following the movements of my lips with her eyes. But I put my -handkerchief to my mouth and coughed, and when we were half-way down I -managed to say: - -“I love you, Nadia!” - -So the riddle remained unsolved! Nadia was left pensive and silent. I -escorted her home, and as she walked she shortened her steps and tried -to go slowly, waiting for me to say those words. I was aware of the -struggle going on in her breast, and of how she was forcing herself not -to exclaim: - -“The wind could not have said those words! I don’t want to think that it -said them!” - -Next day I received the following note: - -“If you are going coasting, to-day, call for me. N.” - -Thenceforth Nadia and I went coasting every day, and each time that we -sped down the hill on our little sled I whispered the words: - -“I love you, Nadia!” - -Nadia soon grew to crave this phrase as some people crave morphine or -wine. She could no longer live without hearing it! Though to fly down -the hill was as terrible to her as ever, danger and fear lent a strange -fascination to those words of love, words which remained a riddle to -torture her heart. Both the wind and I were suspected; which of us two -was confessing our love for her now seemed not to matter; let the -draught but be hers, and she cared not for the goblet that held it! - -One day, at noon, I went to our hill alone. There I perceived Nadia. She -approached the hill, seeking me with her eyes, and at last I saw her -timidly mounting the steps that led to the summit. Oh, how fearful, how -terrifying she found it to make that journey alone! Her face was as -white as the snow, and she shook as if she were going to her doom, but -up she climbed, firmly, without one backward look. Clearly she had -determined to discover once for all whether those wondrously sweet words -would reach her ears if I were not there. I saw her seat herself on the -sled with a pale face and lips parted with horror, saw her shut her eyes -and push off, bidding farewell for ever to this world. “zzzzzzz!” hissed -the runners. What did she hear? I know not—I only saw her rise tired and -trembling from the sled, and it was clear from her expression that she -could not herself have said what she had heard; on her downward rush -terror had robbed her of the power of distinguishing the sounds that -came to her ears. - -And now, with March, came the spring. The sun’s rays grew warmer and -brighter. Our snowy hillside grew darker and duller, and the ice crust -finally melted away. Our coasting came to an end. - -Nowhere could poor Nadia now hear the beautiful words, for there was no -one to say them; the wind was silent and I was preparing to go to St. -Petersburg for a long time, perhaps for ever. - -One evening, two days before my departure, I sat in the twilight in a -little garden separated from the garden where Nadia lived by a high -fence surmounted by iron spikes. It was cold and the snow was still on -the ground, the trees were lifeless, but the scent of spring was in the -air, and the rooks were cawing noisily as they settled themselves for -the night. I approached the fence, and for a long time peered through a -chink in the boards. I saw Nadia come out of the house and stand on the -door-step, gazing with anguish and longing at the sky. The spring wind -was blowing directly into her pale, sorrowful face. It reminded her of -the wind that had howled for us on the hillside when she had heard those -four words, and with that recollection her face grew very sad indeed, -and the tears rolled down her cheeks. The poor child held out her arms -as if to implore the wind to bring those words to her ears once more. -And I, waiting for a gust to carry them to her, said softly: - -“I love you, Nadia!” - -Heavens, what an effect my words had on Nadia! She cried out and -stretched forth her arms to the wind, blissful, radiant, beautiful.... - -And I went to pack up my things. All this happened a long time ago. -Nadia married, whether for love or not matters little. Her husband is an -official of the nobility, and she now has three children. But she has -not forgotten how we coasted together and how the wind whispered to her: - -“I love you, Nadia!” - -That memory is for her the happiest, the most touching, the most -beautiful one of her life. - -But as for me, now that I have grown older, I can no longer understand -why I said those words and why I jested with Nadia. - - - AFTER THE THEATRE - -When Nadia Zelenia came home with her mother from the theatre, where -they had been to see “Evgeni Onegin,” and found herself in her own room -once more, she took off her dress, loosened her hair, and hastened to -sit down at her desk in her petticoat and little white bodice, to write -a letter in the style of Tatiana. - -“I love you,” she wrote, “but you do not, no, you do not love me!” - -As she wrote this she began to laugh. - -She was only sixteen and had never been in love in her life. She knew -that the officer Gorni and the student Gruzdieff both loved her, but -now, after seeing the opera, she did not want to believe it. How -attractive it would be to be wretched and spurned! It was, somehow, so -poetical, so beautiful and touching, when one loved while the other -remained cold and indifferent! Onegin was arresting because he did not -love Tatiana, but Tatiana was enchanting because she loved so ardently. -Had they both loved one another equally well and been happy, might not -both have been uninteresting? - -“No longer think that you love me,” Nadia continued, thinking of Gorni. -“I cannot believe it. You are clever and serious and wise; you are a -very talented man, and may have a brilliant future before you. I am a -stupid, frivolous girl and you know yourself that I should only hinder -you in your life. You were attracted to me, it is true; you thought you -had found your ideal in me, but that was a mistake. Already you are -asking yourself: why did I ever meet that girl? Only your kindness -prevents you from acknowledging this.” - -Nadia began to feel very sorry for herself, she burst into tears and -continued: - -“If it were not so hard to leave mamma and my brother, I should take the -veil and go away to the ends of the earth. Then you would be free to -love some one else.” - -Nadia’s tears now prevented her from seeing what she was writing; little -rainbows were trembling across the table, the floor, and the ceiling, -and it seemed to her as though she were looking through a prism. To go -on writing was impossible, so she threw herself back in her chair and -began thinking of Gorni. - -Goodness, how attractive, how fascinating men were! Nadia remembered the -beautiful expression that came over Gorni’s face when he was talking of -music. How humble, how engaging, how gentle he then looked, and what -efforts he made not to let his voice betray the passion he felt! Emotion -must be concealed in society where haughtiness and chilly indifference -are the marks of good breeding and a good education, so he would try to -hide his feelings, but in vain. Every one knew that he loved music -madly. Endless arguments about music and the bold criticisms of -Philistines kept his nerves constantly on edge, so that he appeared to -be timid and silent. He played the piano beautifully, and if he had not -been an officer he would certainly have become a musician. - -The tears dried on Nadia’s cheeks. She remembered that Gorni had -proposed to her at a symphony concert and had later repeated his -proposal down-stairs by the coat rack, where they were standing in a -strong draught. - -“I am very glad that you have at last come to know Gruzdieff,” she went -on. “He is a very clever man and you are sure to be friends. He came to -see us yesterday evening and stayed until two. We were all in raptures -over him, and I was sorry that you had not come, too. He talked -wonderfully.” - -Nadia laid her arms on the table and rested her head upon them, and her -hair fell over the letter. She remembered that Gruzdieff was in love -with her, too, and that he had as much right to her letter as Gorni had. -On second thoughts, would it not be better to send it to him? A -causeless happiness stirred in her breast; at first it was tiny, and -rolled gently about there like a small rubber ball; then it grew larger -and fuller, and at last gushed up like a fountain. Nadia forgot Gorni -and Gruzdieff, and her thoughts grew confused, but her rapture rose and -rose, until it flowed from her breast into her hands and feet, and a -fresh, gentle breeze seemed to be fanning her head and stirring her -hair. Her shoulders shook with soft laughter; the table shook, the -lamp-chimney trembled, and tears gushed from her eyes over the letter. -She was powerless to control her laughter, so she hastened to think of -something funny to prove that her mirth was not groundless. - -“Oh, what a ridiculous poodle!” she cried, feeling a little faint from -laughing. “What a ridiculous poodle!” - -She remembered that Gruzdieff had romped with their poodle Maxim -yesterday after tea, and had told her a story of a very intelligent -poodle, who chased a jackdaw around a garden. The jackdaw had turned -round while the poodle was chasing him, and said: - -“You scoundrel, you!” - -Not knowing that it was a trained bird, the poodle had been dreadfully -dismayed; he had slunk away in perplexity and had afterward begun to -howl. - -“Yes, I think I shall have to love Gruzdieff,” Nadia decided, and she -tore up the letter. - -So she began to muse on the student, and on his love and hers, but her -thoughts were soon rambling, and she found herself thinking of many -things: of her mother, of the street, of the pencil, and of the -piano.... She thought of all this with pleasure, and everything seemed -to her to be beautiful and good, but her happiness told her that this -was not all, there was a great deal more to come in a little while, -which would be much better even than this. Spring would soon be here, -and then summer would come, and she would go with her mother to Gorbiki, -and there Gorni would come on his holidays, and would take her walking -in the garden and make love to her. - -Gruzdieff would come, too; he would play croquet and bowls with her, and -tell her funny and thrilling stories. She longed for the garden, the -darkness, the clear sky, and the stars. Once more her shoulders shook -with laughter; the room seemed to her to be filled with the scent of -lavender, and a twig tapped against the window-pane. - -She went across to the bed, sat down, and, not knowing what to do -because of the great happiness that filled her heart, she fixed her eyes -on the little icon that hung at the head of her bed, and murmured: - -“Oh! Lord! Lord! Lord!” - - - VOLODIA - -One Sunday evening in spring Volodia, a plain, shy, sickly lad of -seventeen, was sitting, a prey to melancholy, in a summer-house on the -country place of the Shumikins. His gloomy reflections flowed in three -different channels. In the first place, to-morrow, Monday, he would have -to take an examination in mathematics. He knew that if he did not pass -he would be expelled from school, as he had already been two years in -the sixth grade. In the second place, his pride suffered constant agony -during his visits to the Shumikins, who were rich people with -aristocratic pretensions. He imagined that Madame Shumikin and her -nieces looked down upon his mother and himself as poor relations and -dependents, and that they made fun of his mother and did not respect -her. He had once overheard Madame Shumikin saying on the terrace to her -cousin Anna Feodorovna that she was still pretending to be young, and -that she never paid her debts and had a great hankering after other -people’s shoes and cigarettes. Every day Volodia would implore his -mother not to go to the Shumikins’ again. He painted for her the -humiliating rôle which she played among these people, he entreated her -and spoke rudely to her, but the spoiled, frivolous woman, who had -wasted two fortunes in her day, her own and her husband’s, yearned for -high life and refused to understand him, so that twice every week -Volodia was obliged to accompany her to the hated house. - -In the third place, the lad could not free himself for a moment from a -certain strange, unpleasant feeling that was entirely new to him. He -imagined himself to be in love with Anna Feodorovna, the cousin and -guest of Madame Shumikin. Anna Feodorovna was a talkative, lively, -laughing little lady of thirty; healthy, rosy, and strong, with plump -shoulders, a plump chin, and an eternal smile on her thin lips. She was -neither pretty nor young. Volodia knew this perfectly well, and for that -very reason he was unable to refrain from thinking of her, from watching -her as she bent her plump shoulders over her croquet mallet, or, as she, -after much laughter and running up and down-stairs, sank all out of -breath into a chair, and with half-closed eyes pretended that she felt a -tightness and strangling across the chest. She was married, and her -husband was a staid architect who came down into the country once a -week, had a long sleep, and then returned to the city. This feeling on -Volodia’s part began with an unreasoning hatred of the architect, and a -sensation of joy whenever he returned to the city. - -And now, as he sat in the summer-house thinking about to-morrow’s -examination and his mother, whom every one laughed at, he felt a great -longing to see Nyuta, as the Shumikins called Anna Feodorovna, and to -hear her laughter and the rustling of her dress. This longing did not -resemble the pure, poetic love of which he had read in novels, and of -which he dreamed every night as he went to bed. It was a strange and -incomprehensible thing, and he was ashamed and afraid of it as of -something wicked and wrong which he hardly dared to acknowledge even to -himself. - -“This is not love,” he thought. “One does not fall in love with a woman -of thirty. It is simply a little intrigue; yes, it is a little -intrigue.” - -Thinking about intrigues, he remembered his invincible shyness, his lack -of a moustache, his freckles, his little eyes, and pictured himself -standing beside Nyuta. The contrast was impossible. So he hastened to -imagine himself handsome and bold and witty, dressed in the latest -fashion.... - -In the very heat of his imaginings, as he sat huddled in a dark corner -of the summer-house with his eyes fixed on the ground, he heard light -footsteps approaching. Some one was hurrying down the garden path. The -footsteps ceased and a figure clad in white gleamed in the doorway. - -“Is any one there?” asked a woman’s voice. - -Volodia recognised the voice and raised his head in alarm. - -“Who is there?” asked Nyuta, stepping into the summer-house. “Ah, is it -you, Volodia? What are you doing in there? Brooding? How can you always -be brooding and brooding? It’s enough to drive you crazy!” - -Volodia rose and looked at Nyuta in confusion. She was on her way back -from the bath-house; a Turkish towel hung across her shoulders, and a -few damp locks of hair had escaped from under her white silk kerchief -and were clinging to her forehead. She exhaled the cool, damp odour of -the river, and the scent of almond soap. The upper button of her blouse -was undone, so that her neck and throat were visible to the lad. - -“Why don’t you say something?” asked Nyuta, looking Volodia up and down. -“It is rude not to answer when a lady speaks to you. What a -stick-in-the-mud you are, Volodia, always sitting and thinking like some -stodgy old philosopher, and never opening your mouth! You have no vim in -you, no fire! You are horrid, really! A boy of your age ought to live, -and frisk, and chatter, and fall in love, and make love to the ladies.” - -Volodia stared at the towel which she was holding in her plump, white -hand and pondered. - -“He won’t answer!” cried Nyuta in surprise. “This is too strange, -really! Listen to me, be a man! At least smile! Bah! What a horrid -dry-as-dust you are!” she laughed. “Volodia, do you know what makes you -such a boor? It’s because you never make love. Why don’t you do it? -There are no girls here, I know, but what is to prevent you from making -love to a woman? Why don’t you make love to me, for instance?” - -Volodia listened to her and rubbed his forehead in intense, painful -irresolution. - -“It is only proud people who never speak and like to be alone,” Nyuta -continued, pulling his hand down from his forehead. “You are proud, -Volodia. Why do you squint at me like that? Look me in the eye, if you -please. Now then, stick-in-the-mud!” - -Volodia made up his mind to speak. In an effort to smile he stuck out -his lower lip, blinked his eyes, and his hand again went to his head. - -“I—I love you!” he exclaimed. - -Nyuta raised her eyebrows in astonishment and burst out laughing. - -“What is this I hear?” she chanted as singers do in an opera when they -hear a terrible piece of news. “What? What did you say? Say it again! -Say it again!” - -“I—I love you!” Volodia repeated. - -And involuntarily, without premeditation and not realising what he was -doing, he took a step toward Nyuta and seized her arm above the wrist. -Tears started into his eyes, and the whole world seemed to turn into a -huge Turkish towel smelling of the river. - -“Bravo, bravo!” he heard a laughing voice cry approvingly. “Why don’t -you say something? I want to hear you speak! Now, then!” - -Seeing that he was permitted to hold her arm, Volodia looked into -Nyuta’s laughing face and awkwardly, uneasily, put both arms around her -waist, bringing his wrists together behind her back. As he held her -thus, she put her hands behind her head showing the dimples in her -elbows, and, arranging her hair under her kerchief, she said in a quiet -voice: - -“I want you to become bright and agreeable and charming, Volodia, and -this you can only accomplish through the influence of women. Why, what a -horrid cross face you have! You ought to laugh and talk. Honestly, -Volodia, don’t be a stick! You are young yet; you will have plenty of -time for philosophising later on. And now, let me go. I’m in a hurry to -get back. Let me go, I tell you!” - -She freed herself without effort, and went out of the summer-house -singing a snatch of song. Volodia was left alone. He smoothed his hair, -smiled, and walked three times round the summer-house. Then he sat down -and smiled again. He felt an unbearable sense of mortification, and even -marvelled that human shame could reach such a point of keenness and -intensity. The feeling made him smile again and wring his hands and -whisper a few incoherent phrases. - -He felt humiliated because he had just been treated like a little boy, -and because he was so shy, but chiefly because he had dared to put his -arms around the waist of a respectable married woman, when neither his -age nor, as he thought, his social position, nor his appearance -warranted such an act. - -He jumped up and, without so much as a glance behind him, hurried away -into the depths of the garden, as far away from the house as he could -go. - -“Oh, if we could only get away from here at once!” he thought, seizing -his head in his hands. “Oh, quickly, quickly!” - -The train on which Volodia and his mother were to go back to town left -at eight-forty. There still remained three hours before train time, and -he would have liked to have gone to the station at once without waiting -for his mother. - -At eight o’clock he turned toward the house. His whole figure expressed -determination and seemed to be proclaiming: “Come what may, I am -prepared for anything!” He had made up his mind to go in boldly, to look -every one straight in the face, and to speak loudly no matter what -happened. - -He crossed the terrace, passed through the drawing-room and the -living-room, and stopped in the hall to catch his breath. He could hear -the family at tea in the adjoining dining-room; Madame Shumikin, his -mother, and Nyuta were discussing something with laughter. - -Volodia listened. - -“I assure you I could scarcely believe my eyes!” Nyuta cried. “I hardly -recognised him when he began to make love to me, and actually—will you -believe it?—put his arms around my waist! He has quite a way with him! -When he told me that he loved me, he had the look of a wild animal, like -a Circassian.” - -“You don’t say so!” cried his mother, rocking with long shrieks of -laughter. “You don’t say so! How like his father he is!” - -Volodia jumped back, and rushed out into the fresh air. - -“How can they all talk about it?” he groaned, throwing up his arms and -staring with horror at the sky. “Aloud, and in cold blood, too! And -mother laughed! Mother! Oh, God, why did you give me such a mother? Oh, -why?” - -But enter the house he must, happen what might. He walked three times -round the garden, and then, feeling more composed, he went in. - -“Why didn’t you come in to tea on time?” asked Madame Shumikin sternly. - -“Excuse me, it—it is time for me to go—” Volodia stammered, without -raising his eyes. “Mother, it is eight o’clock!” - -“Go along by yourself, dear,” answered his mother languidly. “I am -spending the night here with Lily. Good-by, my boy, come, let me kiss -you.” - -She kissed her son and said in French: - -“He reminds one a little of Lermontov, doesn’t he?” - -Volodia managed to take leave of the company somehow without looking any -one in the face, and ten minutes later he was striding along the road to -the station, glad to be off at last. He now no longer felt frightened or -ashamed, and could breathe deeply and freely once more. - -Half a mile from the station he sat down on a stone by the wayside and -began looking at the sun, which was now half hidden behind the horizon. -A few small lights were already gleaming here and there near the -station, and a dim green ray shone out, but the train had not yet -appeared. It was pleasant to sit there quietly, watching the night -slowly creeping across the fields. The dim summer-house, Nyuta’s light -footsteps, the smell of the bath-house, her laughter, and her waist—all -these things rose up before Volodia’s fancy with startling vividness, -and now no longer seemed terrible and significant to him as they had a -few hours before. - -“What nonsense! She did not pull her hand away; she laughed when I put -my arm around her waist,” he thought. “Therefore she must have enjoyed -it. If she had not liked it she would have been angry——” - -Volodia was vexed now at not having been bolder. He regretted that he -was stupidly running away, and was convinced that, were the same -circumstances to occur again, he would be more manly and look at the -thing more simply—— - -But it would not be hard to bring those circumstances about. The -Shumikins always strolled about the garden for a long time after supper. -If Volodia were to go walking with Nyuta in the dark—there would be the -chance to re-enact the same scene! - -“I’ll go back and leave on an early train to-morrow morning,” he -decided. “I’ll tell them I missed this train.” - -So he went back. Madame Shumikin, his mother, Nyuta, and one of the -nieces were sitting on the terrace playing cards. When Volodia told them -his story about having missed the train they were uneasy lest he should -be late for his examination, and advised him to get up early next -morning. Volodia sat down at a little distance from the card-players, -and during the whole game kept his eyes fixed on Nyuta. He had already -determined on a plan. He would go up to Nyuta in the dark, take her -hand, and kiss her. It would not be necessary for either to speak; they -would understand one another without words. - -But the ladies did not go walking after supper; they continued their -game instead. They played until one o’clock, and then all separated for -the night. - -“How stupid this is!” thought Volodia, with annoyance. “But never mind, -I’ll wait until to-morrow. To-morrow in the summer-house—never mind!” - -He made no effort to go to sleep, but sat on the edge of his bed with -his arms around his knees and thought. The idea of the examination was -odious to him. He had already made up his mind that he was going to be -expelled, and that there was nothing terrible about that. On the -contrary, it was a good thing, a very good thing. To-morrow he would be -as free as a bird. He would leave off his schoolboy’s uniform for -civilian clothes, smoke in public, and come over here to make love to -Nyuta whenever he liked. He would be a young man. As for what people -called his career and his future, that was perfectly clear. Volodia -would not enter the government service, but would become a telegraph -operator or have a drug store, and become a pharmaceutist. Were there -not plenty of careers open to a young man? An hour passed, two hours -passed, and he was still sitting on the edge of his bed and thinking—— - -At three o’clock, when it was already light, his door was cautiously -pushed open and his mother came into the room. - -“Aren’t you asleep yet?” she asked with a yawn. “Go to sleep, go to -sleep. I’ve just come in for a moment to get a bottle of medicine.” - -“For whom?” - -“Poor Lily is ill again. Go to sleep, child, you have an examination -to-morrow.” - -She took a little bottle out of the closet, held it to the window, read -the label, and went out. - -“Oh, Maria, that isn’t it!” he heard a woman’s voice exclaim. “That is -Eau de Cologne, and Lily wants morphine. Is your son awake? Do ask him -to find it!” - -The voice was Nyuta’s. Volodia’s heart stopped beating. He hastily put -on his trousers and coat and went to the door. - -“Do you understand? I want morphine!” explained Nyuta in a whisper. “It -is probably written in Latin. Wake Volodia, he will be able to find it!” - -Volodia’s mother opened the door, and he caught sight of Nyuta. She was -wearing the same blouse she had worn when she came from the bath-house. -Her hair was hanging loose, and her face looked sleepy and dusky in the -dim light. - -“There, Volodia is awake!” she exclaimed. “Volodia, do get me the -morphine out of the closet, there’s a good boy. What a nuisance Lily is! -She always has something the matter with her.” - -The mother murmured something, yawned, and went away. - -“Come, find it!” cried Nyuta. “What are you standing there for?” - -Volodia went to the closet, knelt down, and began searching among the -bottles of medicine and pill-boxes there. His hands were trembling and -cold chills were running down his chest and back. He aimlessly seized -bottles of ether, carbolic acid, and various boxes of herbs in his -shaking hands, spilling and scattering the contents. The smell -overpowered him and made his head swim. - -“Mother has gone—” he thought. “That’s good—good.” - -“Hurry!” cried Nyuta. - -“Just a moment—there, this must be it!” said Volodia having deciphered -the letters “morph—” on one of the labels. “Here it is!” - -Nyuta was standing in the doorway with one foot in the hall and one in -Volodia’s room. She was twisting up her hair—which was no easy matter, -for it was long and thick—and was looking vacantly at Volodia. In the -dim radiance shed by the white, early morning sky, with her full blouse -and her flowing hair, she looked to him superb and entrancing. -Fascinated, trembling from head to foot, and remembering with delight -how he had embraced her in the summer-house, he handed her the bottle -and said: - -“You are——” - -“What?” she asked smiling. - -He said nothing; he looked at her, and then, as he had done in the -summer-house, he seized her hand. - -“I love you—” he whispered. - -Volodia felt as if the room and Nyuta, and the dawn, and he himself had -suddenly rushed together into a keen, unknown feeling of happiness for -which he was ready to give his whole life and lose his soul for ever, -but half a minute later it all suddenly vanished. - -“Well, I must go—” said Nyuta, looking contemptuously at Volodia. “What -a pitiful, plain boy you are—Bah, you ugly duckling!” - -How hideous her long hair, her full blouse, her footsteps and her voice -now seemed to him! - -“Ugly duckling!” he thought. “Yes, I am indeed ugly—everything is ugly.” - -The sun rose; the birds broke into song; the sound of the gardener’s -footsteps and the creaking of his wheelbarrow rose from the garden. The -cows lowed and the notes of a shepherd’s pipe trembled in the air. The -sunlight and all these manifold sounds proclaimed that somewhere in the -world there could be found a life that was pure, and gracious, and -poetic. Where was it? Neither Volodia’s mother, nor any one of the -people who surrounded the boy had ever spoken of it to him. - -When the man servant came to call him for the morning train, he -pretended to be asleep. - -“Oh, to thunder with it all!” he thought. - -He got up at eleven. As he brushed his hair before the mirror he looked -at his plain face, so pale after his sleepless night, and thought: - -“She is quite right. I really am an ugly duckling.” - -When his mother saw him and seemed horrified at his not having gone to -take his examination, Volodia said: - -“I overslept, mamma, but don’t worry; I can give them a certificate from -the doctor.” - -Madame Shumikin and Nyuta woke at one o’clock. Volodia heard the former -throw open her window with a bang, and heard Nyuta’s ringing laugh -answer her rough voice. He saw the dining-room door flung open and the -nieces and dependents, among whom was his mother, troop in to lunch. He -saw Nyuta’s freshly washed face, and beside it the black eyebrows and -beard of the architect, who had just come. - -Nyuta was in Little Russian costume, and this was not becoming to her -and made her look clumsy. The architect made some vulgar, insipid jests, -and Volodia thought that there were a terrible lot of onions in the stew -that day. He also thought that Nyuta was laughing loudly and looking in -his direction on purpose to let him understand that the memory of last -night did not worry her in the least, and that she scarcely noticed the -presence at table of the ugly duckling. - -At four o’clock Volodia and his mother drove to the station. The lad’s -sordid memories, his sleepless night, and the pangs of his conscience -aroused in him a feeling of painful and gloomy anger. He looked at his -mother’s thin profile, at her little nose, and at the rain-coat that had -been a gift to her from Nyuta, and muttered: - -“Why do you powder your face? It does not become you at all! You try to -look pretty, but you don’t pay your debts, and you smoke cigarettes that -aren’t yours! It’s disgusting! I don’t like you, no, I don’t, I don’t!” - -So he insulted her, but she only rolled her eyes in terror and, throwing -up her hands, said in a horrified whisper: - -“What are you saying? Heavens, the coachman will hear you! Do hush, he -can hear everything!” - -“I don’t like you! I don’t like you!” he went on, struggling for breath. -“You are without morals or heart. Don’t dare to wear that rain-coat -again, do you hear me? If you do, I’ll tear it to shreds!” - -“Control yourself, child!” wept his mother. “The coachman will hear -you!” - -“Where is my father’s fortune? Where is your own? You have squandered -them both. I am not ashamed of my poverty, but I am ashamed of my -mother. I blush whenever the boys at school ask me about you.” - -The village was two stations from town. During the whole journey Volodia -stood on the platform of the car, trembling from head to foot, not -wanting to go inside because his mother, whom he hated, was sitting -there. He hated himself, and the conductor, and the smoke of the engine, -and the cold to which he ascribed the shivering fit that had seized him. -The heavier his heart grew, the more convinced he became that somewhere -in the world there must be people who lived a pure, noble, warm-hearted, -gracious life, full of love, and tenderness, and merriment, and freedom. -He felt this and suffered so keenly from the thought that one of the -passengers looked intently at him, and said: - -“You must have a toothache!” - -Volodia and his mother lived with a widow who rented a large apartment -and let rooms to lodgers. His mother had two rooms, one with windows -where her own bed stood, and another adjoining it, which was small and -dark, where Volodia lived. A sofa, on which he slept, was the only -furniture of this little room; all the available space was taken up by -trunks full of dresses, and by hat-boxes and piles of rubbish which his -mother had seen fit to collect. Volodia studied his lessons in his -mother’s room, or in the “parlour,” as the large room was called, where -the lodgers assembled before dinner and in the evening. - -On reaching home, Volodia threw himself down on his sofa and covered -himself with a blanket, hoping to cure his shivering fit. The hat-boxes, -the trunks, and the rubbish, all proclaimed to him that he had no room -of his own, no corner in which he could take refuge from his mother, her -guests, and the voices that now assailed his ears from the parlour. His -school satchel and the books that lay scattered about the floor reminded -him of the examination he had missed. Quite unexpectedly there rose -before his eyes a vision of Mentone, where he had lived with his father -when he was seven years old. He recalled Biarritz, and two little -English girls with whom he had played on the beach. He vainly tried to -remember the colour of the sky, and the ocean, and the height of the -waves, and how he had then felt; the little English girls flashed across -his vision with all the vividness of life, but the rest of the picture -was confused and gradually faded away. - -“It is too cold here,” Volodia thought. He got up, put on his overcoat, -and went into the parlour. - -The inmates of the house were assembled there at tea. His mother, an old -maid music teacher with horn spectacles, and Monsieur Augustin, a fat -Frenchman, who worked in a perfume factory, were sitting near the -samovar. - -“I haven’t had dinner to-day,” his mother was saying. “I must send the -maid for some bread.” - -“Duniash!” shouted the Frenchman. - -It appeared that the maid had been sent on an errand by her mistress. - -“Oh, no matter!” said the Frenchman, smiling broadly. “I go for the -bread myself! Oh, no matter!” - -He laid down his strong, reeking cigar in a conspicuous place, put on -his hat, and went out. - -When he had gone, Volodia’s mother began telling the music teacher of -her visit to Madame Shumikin’s, and of the enthusiastic reception she -had had there. - -“Lily Shumikin is a relative of mine, you know,” she said. “Her husband, -General Shumikin, was a cousin of my husband’s. She was the Baroness -Kolb before her marriage.” - -“Mother, that isn’t true!” cried Volodia exasperated. “Why do you lie -so?” - -Now he knew that his mother was not lying, and that in her account of -General Shumikin and Baroness Kolb there was not a word of untruth, but -he felt none the less as if she were lying. The tone of her voice, the -expression of her face, her glance—all were false. - -“It’s a lie!” Volodia repeated, bringing his fist down on the table with -such a bang that the cups and saucers rattled and mamma spilled her tea. -“What makes you talk about generals and baronesses? It’s all a lie!” - -The music teacher was embarrassed and coughed behind her handkerchief, -as if she had swallowed a crumb. Mamma burst into tears. - -“How can I get away from here?” thought Volodia. - -He was ashamed to go to the house of any of his school friends. Once -more he unexpectedly remembered the two little English girls. He walked -across the parlour and into Monsieur Augustin’s room. There the air -smelled strongly of volatile oils and glycerine soap. Quantities of -little bottles full of liquids of various colours cluttered the table, -the window-sills, and even the chairs. Volodia took up a paper and read -the heading: “Le Figaro.” The paper exhaled a strong and pleasant -fragrance. He picked up a revolver that lay on the table. - -“There, there, don’t mind what he says!” the music teacher was consoling -his mother in the next room. “He is still young, and young men always do -foolish things. We must make up our minds to that.” - -“No, Miss Eugenia, he has been spoiled,” moaned his mother. “There is no -one who has any authority over him, and I am too weak to do anything. -Oh, I am very unhappy.” - -Volodia put the barrel of the revolver into his mouth, felt something -which he thought was the trigger, and pulled—Then he found another -little hook and pulled again. He took the revolver out of his mouth and -examined the lock. He had never held a firearm in his hands in his life. - -“I suppose this thing ought to be raised,” he thought. “Yes, I think -that is right.” - -Monsieur Augustin entered the parlour laughing and began to recount some -adventure he had had on the way. Volodia once more put the barrel into -his mouth, seized it between his teeth, and pulled a little hook he felt -with his fingers. A shot rang out—something hit him with tremendous -force in the back of the neck, and he fell forward upon the table with -his face among the bottles and glasses. He saw his father wearing a high -hat with a wide silk band, because he was wearing mourning for some lady -in Mentone, and felt himself suddenly seized in his arms and fall with -him into a very deep, black abyss. - -Then everything grew confused and faded away. - - - A NAUGHTY BOY - -Ivan Lapkin, a youth of pleasing exterior, and Anna Zamblitskaya, a girl -with a tip-tilted nose, descended the steep river bank and took their -seats on a bench at its foot. The bench stood at the water’s edge in a -thicket of young willows. It was a lovely spot. Sitting there, one was -hidden from all the world and observed only by fish and the -daddy-longlegs that skimmed like lightning across the surface of the -water. The young people were armed with fishing-rods, nets, cans -containing worms, and other fishing appurtenances. They sat down on the -bench and immediately began to fish. - -“I am glad that we are alone at last,” began Lapkin glancing behind him. -“I have a great deal to say to you, Miss Anna, a very great deal. When -first I saw you—you’ve got a bite!—I realized at last the reason for my -existence. I knew that you were the idol at whose feet I was to lay the -whole of an honourable and industrious life—that’s a big one biting! On -seeing you I fell in love for the first time in my life. I fell madly in -love!—Don’t pull yet, let it bite a little longer!—Tell me, dearest, I -beg you, if I may aspire, not to a return of my affection—no, I am not -worthy of that, I dare not even dream of it—but tell me if I may aspire -to—pull!” With a shriek, Anna jerked the arm that held the fishing-rod -into the air; a little silvery-green fish dangled glistening in the -sunlight. - -“Goodness gracious, it’s a perch! Oh, oh, be quick, it’s coming off!” - -The perch fell off the hook, flopped across the grass toward its native -element, and splashed into the water. - -Somehow, while pursuing it, Lapkin accidentally seized Anna’s hand -instead of the fish and accidentally pressed it to his lips. Anna pulled -it away, but it was too late, their lips accidentally met in a kiss. It -all happened accidentally. A second kiss succeeded the first, and then -followed vows and the plighting of troth. Happy moments! But perfect -bliss does not exist on earth, it often bears a poison in itself, or -else is poisoned by some outside circumstances. So it was in this case. -When the young people had exchanged kisses they heard a sudden burst of -laughter. They looked at the river in stupefaction; before them, up to -his waist in water, stood a naked boy: it was Kolia, Anna’s schoolboy -brother! He stood there smiling maliciously with his eyes fixed on the -young people. - -“Aha! You’re kissing one another, are you? All right, I’ll tell mamma!” - -“I hope that, as an honourable boy—” faltered Lapkin, blushing. “To spy -on us is mean, but to sneak is low, base, vile. I am sure that, as a -good and honourable boy, you——” - -“Give me a rouble and I won’t say anything!” answered the honourable -boy. “If you don’t, I’ll tell on you——” - -Lapkin took a rouble from his pocket and gave it to Kolia. The boy -seized it in his wet hand, whistled, and swam away. The young couple -exchanged no more kisses on that occasion. - -Next day Lapkin brought Kolia a box of paints from town and a ball; his -sister gave him all her old pill-boxes. They next had to present him -with a set of studs with little dogs’ heads on them. The bad boy -obviously relished the game and began spying on them so as to get more -presents. Wherever Lapkin and Anna went, there he went too. He never -left them to themselves for a moment. - -“The little wretch!” muttered Lapkin grinding his teeth. “So young and -yet so great a rascal! What will become of us?” - -All through the month of June Kolia tormented the unhappy lovers. He -threatened them with betrayal, he spied on them, and then demanded -presents; he could not get enough, and at last began talking of a watch. -The watch was given him. - -Once during dinner, while the waffles were on the table, he burst out -laughing, winked, and said to Lapkin: - -“Shall I tell them, eh?” - -Lapkin blushed furiously and put his napkin into his mouth instead of a -waffle. Anna jumped up from the table and ran into another room. - -The young people remained in this situation until the end of August when -the day at last came on which Lapkin proposed for Anna’s hand. Oh, what -a joyful day it was! No sooner had he spoken with his sweetheart’s -parents and obtained their consent to his suit, than Lapkin rushed into -the garden in search of Kolia. He nearly wept with exultation on finding -him, and caught the wicked boy by the ear. Anna came running up, too, -looking for Kolia, and seized him by the other ear. The pleasure -depicted on the faces of the lovers when Kolia wept and begged for mercy -was well worth seeing. - -“Dear, good, sweet angels, I won’t do it again! Ouch, ouch! Forgive me!” -Kolia implored them. - -They confessed afterward that during all their courtship they had never -once experienced such bliss, such thrilling rapture, as they did during -those few moments when they were pulling the ears of that wicked boy. - - - BLISS - -It was midnight. Suddenly Mitia Kuldaroff burst into his parents’ house, -dishevelled and excited, and went flying through all the rooms. His -father and mother had already gone to rest; his sister was in bed -finishing the last pages of a novel, and his schoolboy brothers were -fast asleep. - -“What brings you here?” cried his astonished parents. “What is the -matter?” - -“Oh, don’t ask me! I never expected anything like this! No, no, I never -expected it! It is—it is absolutely incredible!” - -Mitia burst out laughing and dropped into a chair, unable to stand on -his feet from happiness. - -“It is incredible! You can’t imagine what it is! Look here!” - -His sister jumped out of bed, threw a blanket over her shoulders, and -went to her brother. The schoolboys woke up—— - -“What’s the matter with you? You look like a ghost.” - -“It’s because I’m so happy, mother. I am known all over Russia now. -Until to-day, you were the only people who knew that such a person as -Dimitri Kuldaroff existed, but now all Russia knows it! Oh, mother! Oh, -heavens!” - -Mitia jumped up, ran through all the rooms, and dropped back into a -chair. - -“But what has happened? Talk sense!” - -“You live like wild animals, you don’t read the news, the press is -nothing to you, and yet there are so many wonderful things in the -papers! Everything that happens becomes known at once, nothing remains -hidden! Oh, how happy I am! Oh, heavens! The newspapers only write about -famous people, and now there is something in them about me!” - -“What do you mean? Where is it?” - -Papa turned pale. Mamma glanced at the icon and crossed herself. The -schoolboys jumped out of bed and ran to their brother in their short -nightshirts. - -“Yes, sir! There is something about me in the paper! The whole of Russia -knows it now. Oh, mother, keep this number as a souvenir; we can read it -from time to time. Look!” - -Mitia pulled a newspaper out of his pocket and handed it to his father, -pointing to an item marked with a blue pencil. - -“Read that!” - -His father put on his glasses. - -“Come on, read it!” - -Mamma glanced at the icon once more, and crossed herself. Papa cleared -his throat, and began: - -“At 11 P. M., on December 27, a young man by the name of Dimitri -Kuldaroff——” - -“See? See? Go on!” - -“A young man by the name of Dimitri Kuldaroff, coming out of a tavern on -Little Armourer Street, and being in an intoxicated condition——” - -“That’s it, I was with Simion Petrovitch! Every detail is correct. Go -on! Listen!” - -“—being in an intoxicated condition, slipped and fell under the feet of -a horse belonging to the cabman Ivan Drotoff, a peasant from the village -of Durinka in the province of Yuknofski. The frightened horse jumped -across Kuldaroff’s prostrate body, pulling the sleigh after him. In the -sleigh sat Stepan Lukoff, a merchant of the Second Moscow Guild of -Merchants. The horse galloped down the street, but was finally stopped -by some house porters. For a few moments Kuldaroff was stunned. He was -conveyed to the police station and examined by a doctor. The blow which -he had sustained on the back of the neck——” - -“That was from the shaft, papa. Go on! Read the rest!” - -“—the blow which he had sustained on the back of the neck was pronounced -to be slight. The victim was given medical assistance.” - -“They put cold-water bandages round my neck. Do you believe me now? What -do you think? Isn’t it great? It has gone all over Russia by now! Give -me the paper!” - -Mitia seized the paper, folded it, and put it into his pocket, -exclaiming: - -“I must run to the Makaroffs, and show it to them! And the Ivanoffs must -see it, too, and Natalia, and Anasim—I must run there at once! -Good-bye!” - -Mitia crammed on his cap and ran blissfully and triumphantly out into -the street. - - - TWO BEAUTIFUL GIRLS - - - I - -When I was a schoolboy in the fifth or sixth grade, I remember driving -with my grandfather from the little village where we lived to -Rostoff-on-Don. It was a sultry, long, weary August day. Our eyes were -dazzled, and our throats were parched by the heat, and the dry, burning -wind kept whirling clouds of dust in our faces. We desired only not to -open our eyes or to speak, and when the sleepy Little Russian driver -Karpo flicked my cap, as he brandished his whip over his horse, I -neither protested nor uttered a sound, but, waking from a half-doze, I -looked meekly and listlessly into the distance, hoping to descry a -village through the dust. We stopped to feed the horse at the house of a -rich Armenian whom my grandfather knew in the large Armenian village of -Baktchi-Salak. Never in my life have I seen anything more of a -caricature, than our Armenian host. Picture to yourself a tiny, -clean-shaven head, thick, overhanging eyebrows, a beak-like nose, a -long, grey moustache, and a large mouth, out of which a long chibouk of -cherry-wood is hanging. This head was clumsily stuck on a stooping -little body clothed in a fantastic costume consisting of a bob tailed -red jacket and wide, bright blue breeches. The little man walked -shuffling his slippers, with his feet far apart. He did not remove his -pipe from his mouth when he spoke, and carried himself with true -Armenian dignity, staring-eyed and unsmiling, doing his best to ignore -his guests as much as possible. - -Although there was neither wind nor dust in the Armenian’s house, it was -as uncomfortable and stifling and dreary in there as it had been on the -road across the steppe. Dusty and heavy with the heat, I sat down on a -green trunk in a corner. The wooden walls, the furniture, and the floor -painted with yellow ochre smelled of dry wood blistering in the sun. -Wherever the eye fell, were flies, flies, flies—My grandfather and the -Armenian talked together in low voices of pasturage and fertilising and -sheep. I knew that it would be an hour before the samovar would be -brought, and that grandfather would then drink tea for at least an hour -longer, after which he would lie down for a two or three hours’ nap. A -quarter of the day would thus be spent by me in waiting, after which we -would resume the dust, the swelter, and the jolting of the road. I heard -the two voices murmuring together, and began to feel as if I had been -looking for ever at the Armenian, the china closet, the flies, and the -windows through which the hot sun was pouring, and that I should only -cease to look at them in the distant future. I was seized with hatred of -the steppe, the sun, and the flies. - -A Little Russian woman, with a kerchief on her head, brought in first a -tray of dishes, and then the samovar. The Armenian went without haste to -the hall door, and called: - -“Mashia! Come and pour the tea! Where are you, Mashia?” - -We heard hurried footfalls, and a girl of sixteen in a plain cotton -dress, with a white kerchief on her head, entered the room. Her back was -turned toward me as she stood arranging the tea-things and pouring the -tea, and all I could see was that she was slender and barefooted, and -that her little toes were almost hidden by her long, full trousers. - -Our host invited me to sit down at the table, and when I was seated, I -looked into the girl’s face as she handed me my glass. As I looked, I -suddenly felt as if a wind had swept over my soul, blowing away all the -impressions of the day with its tedium and dust. I beheld there the -enchanting features of the most lovely face I had ever seen, waking or -in my dreams. Before me stood a very beautiful girl; I recognised that -at a glance, as one recognises a flash of lightning. - -I am ready to swear that Masha—or, as her father called her, Mashia—was -really beautiful, but I cannot prove it. Sometimes, in the evening, the -clouds lie piled high on the horizon, and the sun, hidden behind them, -stains them and the sky with a hundred colours, crimson, orange, gold, -violet, and rosy pink. One cloud resembles a monk; another, a fish; a -third, a turbaned Turk. The glow embraces one-third of the sky, flashing -from the cross on the church, and the windows of the manor-house, -lighting up the river and the meadows, and trembling upon the tree tops. -Far, far away against the sunset a flock of wild ducks is winging its -way to its night’s resting-place. And the little cowherd with his cows, -and the surveyor driving along the river dyke in his cart, and the -inmates of the manor-house strolling in the evening air, all gaze at the -sunset, and to each one it is supremely beautiful, but no one can say -just where its beauty lies. - -Not I alone found the young Armenian beautiful. My grandfather, an -octogenarian, stern and indifferent to women and to the beauties of -Nature, looked gently at Masha for a whole minute, and then asked: - -“Is that your daughter, Avet Nazaritch?” - -“Yes, that is my daughter,” answered our host. - -“She is a fine girl,” the old man said heartily. - -An artist would have called the Armenian’s beauty classic and severe. It -was the type of beauty in whose presence you feel that here are features -of perfect regularity; that the hair, the eyes, the nose, the mouth, the -chin, the neck, the breast, and every movement of the young body are -merged into a perfect and harmonious chord, in which Nature has not -sounded one false note. You somehow feel that a woman of ideal beauty -should have just such a nose as Masha’s, slender, with the slightest -aquiline curve; just such large, dark eyes and long lashes; just such a -languorous glance; that her dusky, curly hair and her black eyebrows -match the delicate, tender white tint of her forehead and cheeks as -green reeds match the waters of a quiet river. Masha’s white throat and -young breast were scarcely developed, and yet it seemed as if to chisel -them one would have had to possess the highest creative genius. You -looked at her, and little by little the longing seized you to say -something wonderfully kind to her; something beautiful and true; -something as beautiful as the girl herself. - -I was hurt and humiliated at first that Masha should keep her eyes fixed -on the ground as she did and fail to notice me. I felt as if a strange -atmosphere of happiness and pride were blowing between us, sighing -jealously at every glance of mine. - -“It is because I am all sunburned and dusty,” I thought. “And because I -am still a boy.” - -But later I gradually forgot my feelings, and abandoned myself to her -beauty heart and soul. I no longer remembered the dust and tedium of the -steppe, nor heard the buzzing of the flies; I did not taste the tea, and -only felt that there, across the table, stood that lovely girl. - -Her beauty had a strange effect upon me. I experienced neither desire, -nor rapture, nor pleasure, but a sweet, oppressive sadness, as vague and -undefinable as a dream. I was sorry for myself, and for my grandfather, -and for the Armenian, and for the girl herself, and felt as if each one -of us had lost something significant and essential to our lives, which -we could never find again. Grandfather, too, grew sad and no longer -talked of sheep and pasturage, but sat in silence, his eyes resting -pensively on Masha. - -When tea was over, grandfather lay down to take his nap, and I went out -and sat on the little porch at the front door. Like all the other houses -in Baktchi-Salak, this one stood in the blazing sun; neither trees nor -eaves threw any shade about it. The great courtyard, all overgrown with -dock and nettles, was full of life and gaiety in spite of the intense -heat. Wheat was being threshed behind one of the low wattle fences that -intersected it in various places, and twelve horses were trotting round -and round a post that had been driven into the middle of the -threshing-floor. A Little Russian in a long, sleeveless coat, and wide -breeches, was walking beside the horses cracking his whip over them, and -shouting as if to excite them, and at the same time to vaunt his mastery -over them. - -“Ah—ah—ah—you little devils! Ah—ah, the cholera take you! Are you not -afraid of me?” - -Not knowing why they were being forced to trot round in a circle, -trampling wheat straw under their feet, the horses—bay, white and -piebald—moved unwillingly and wearily, angrily switching their tails. -The wind raised clouds of golden chaff under their hoofs, and blew it -away across the fence. Women with rakes were swarming among the tall -stacks of fresh straw, tip-carts were hurrying to and fro, and behind -the stacks in an adjoining courtyard another dozen horses were trotting -around a post, and another Little Russian was cracking his whip and -making merry over them. - -The steps on which I was sitting were fiery hot, the heat had drawn -drops of resin from the slender porch railing and the window-sills, and -swarms of ruddy little beetles were crowded together in the strips of -shade under the blinds and steps. The sun’s rays were beating on my -head, and breast, and back, but I was unconscious of them, and only felt -that there, behind me, those bare feet were pattering about on the deal -floor. Having cleared away the tea-things, Masha ran down the steps, a -little gust sweeping me as she passed, and flew like a bird into a -small, smoky building that was no doubt the kitchen, from which issued a -smell of roasting mutton and the angry tones of an Armenian voice. She -vanished into the dark doorway, and in her stead there appeared on the -threshold an old, humpbacked Armenian crone, in green trousers. The old -woman was in a rage, and was scolding some one. Masha soon came out on -the threshold again, flushed with the heat of the kitchen, bearing a -huge loaf of black bread on her shoulder. Bending gracefully under its -weight, she ran across the court in the direction of the -threshing-floor, leaped over the fence, and plunged into the clouds of -golden chaff. The Little Russian driver lowered his whip, stopped his -cries, and gazed after her for a moment; then, when the girl appeared -again beside the horses, and jumped back over the fence, he followed her -once more with his eyes, and cried to his horses in a tone of -affliction: - -“Ah—ah—the Evil One fly away with you!” - -From then on I sat and listened to the unceasing fall of her bare feet, -and watched her whisking about the courtyard, with her face so serious -and intent. Now she would run up the steps, fanning me with a whirl of -wind; now dart into the kitchen; now across the threshing-floor; now out -through the front gate, and all so fast that I could barely turn my head -quickly enough to follow her with my eyes. - -And the oftener she flashed across my vision with her beauty, the more -profound my sadness grew. I pitied myself, and her, and the Little -Russian sadly following her with his eyes each time that she ran through -the cloud of chaff and past the straw-stacks. Was I envious of her -beauty? Did I regret that this girl was not and never could be mine, and -that I must for ever remain a stranger to her? Did I dimly realise that -her rare loveliness was a freak of nature, vain, perishable like -everything else on earth? Or did my sadness spring from a feeling -peculiar to every heart at the sight of perfect beauty? Who shall say? - -The three hours of waiting passed before I was aware. It seemed to me -that I had scarcely had a chance to look at Masha, before Karpo rode -down to the river to wash off his horse, and began to harness up. The -wet animal whinnied with delight, and struck the shafts with his hoofs. -Karpo shouted “Ba—ack!” Grandfather woke up. Masha threw open the -creaking gates; we climbed into our carriage and drove out of the -courtyard. We travelled in silence, as if there had been a quarrel -between us. - -Three hours later, when we could already see Rostoff in the distance, -Karpo, who had not spoken since we left the Armenian village, looked -round swiftly and said: - -“That Armenian has a pretty daughter!” - -And as he said this he lashed his horse. - - - II - -Once again, when I was a student in college, I was on my way south by -train. It was May. At one of the stations between Byelogorod and -Kharkoff, I think it was, I got out of the train to walk up and down the -platform. - -The evening shadows were already lying on the little garden, the -platform, and the distant fields. The sunlight had faded from the -station, but by the rosy glow that shone on the highest puffs of steam -from our engine we could tell that the sun had not yet sunk beneath the -horizon. - -As I strolled along the platform I noticed that most of the passengers -had gathered round one of the second-class carriages as if there were -some well-known person inside. In that inquisitive crowd I found my -travelling companion, a bright young artillery officer, warm-hearted and -sympathetic as people are with whom one strikes up a chance -acquaintanceship for a few hours on a journey. - -“What are you looking at?” I asked. - -He did not answer, but motioned me with his eyes toward a female figure -standing alongside the train. She was a young girl of seventeen or -eighteen, dressed in Russian costume, bareheaded, with a kerchief thrown -carelessly over one shoulder. She was not a passenger on the train, but -probably the daughter or the sister of the station superintendent. She -was chatting at a window with an elderly woman. Before I could realise -exactly what I was looking at, I was suddenly overwhelmed by the same -sensation that I had experienced in the Armenian village. - -The girl was extraordinarily beautiful, of this neither I nor any one of -those who were looking at her could have the slightest doubt. - -Were I to describe her lineaments in detail, as the custom is, the only -really beautiful point I could ascribe to her would be her thick, curly, -blond hair, caught up with a black ribbon. Her other features were -either irregular or frankly commonplace. Whether from coquetry or -short-sightedness, she kept her eyes half-closed; her nose was vaguely -tip-tilted; her mouth was small; her profile was weak and ill-defined; -her shoulders were too narrow for her years. Nevertheless, the girl gave -one the impression of being a great beauty, and as I looked at her I -grew convinced that the Russian physiognomy does not demand severe -regularity of feature to be beautiful; on the contrary, it seemed to me -that, had this girl’s nose been straight and classic as the Armenian’s -was, her face would have lost all its comeliness. - -As she stood at the window chatting and shrinking from the evening -chill, the girl now glanced back at us, now stuck her arms akimbo, now -raised her hands to catch up a stray lock of hair, and, as she laughed -and talked, the expression on her face varied between surprise and mimic -horror. I do not remember one second when her features and body were at -rest. The very mystery and magic of her loveliness lay in those -indescribably graceful little motions of hers; in her smile; in the play -of her features; in her swift glances at us; in the union of delicate -grace, youth, freshness, and purity that rang in her voice and laughter. -The charm of her was the frailty which we love in children, birds, -fawns, and slender saplings. - -Hers was the beauty of the butterfly that accords so well with waltzes, -with flutterings about a garden, with laughter, and the merriment that -admits neither thought, nor sadness, nor repose. It seemed that, should -a strong gust of wind blow along the platform, or a shower of rain fall, -this fragile figure must crumple to nothing, and this wayward beauty -dissolve like the pollen of a flower. - -“Well, well, well!” murmured the officer, sighing as we walked toward -our compartment after the second starting-bell had rung. - -What he meant by that “Well, well, well,” I shall not attempt to decide. - -Perhaps he was sad at leaving the lovely girl and the spring evening, -and returning to the stuffy train, or perhaps he was sorry, as I was, -for her, and for himself, and for me, and for all the passengers that -were languidly and unwillingly creeping toward their several -compartments. As we walked past a window at which a pale, red-haired -telegraph operator was sitting over his instrument, the officer, seeing -his pompadour curls, and his faded, bony face, sighed again, and said: - -“I’ll bet you that operator is in love with the little beauty. To live -among these lonely fields, under the same roof with that lovely little -creature, and not to fall in love with her would be superhuman. And, oh, -my friend, what a misfortune, what a mockery, to be a round-shouldered, -threadbare, colourless, earnest, sensible man and to fall in love with -that beautiful, foolish child, who is not worth a thought from any one! -Or, worse still, supposing this operator is in love with her, and at the -same time married to a woman as round-shouldered, and threadbare, and -colourless, and sensible as himself! What misery!” - -Near our compartment the train conductor was leaning against the -platform railing, gazing in the direction of the beautiful girl. His -flabby, dissipated, wrinkled face, haggard with the weariness of -sleepless nights and the motion of the train, wore an expression of -profoundest melancholy, as if in this girl he saw the spectre of his -youth, his happiness, his sober ways, his wife, and his children. His -heart was full of repentance, and he felt with his whole being that this -girl was not for him and that, with his premature old age, his -awkwardness, and his bloated face, every day, human happiness was as far -beyond his reach as was the sky. - -The third bell clanged, the whistle blew, and the train moved slowly -away. Past our windows flashed the conductor, the station -superintendent, the garden, and at last the beautiful girl herself with -her sweet, childishly cunning smile. - -By leaning out of the window and looking back, I could see her walking -up and down the platform in front of the window where the telegraph -operator was sitting, watching the train and pinning up a stray lock of -hair. Then she ran into the garden. The station was no longer kindled by -the western light; though the fields were level and bare, the sun’s rays -had faded from them, and the smoke from our engine lay in black, rolling -masses upon the green velvet of the winter wheat. A sense of sadness -pervaded the spring air, the darkling sky, and the railway-carriage. - -Our friend the conductor came into our compartment and lit the lamp. - - - - - LIGHT AND SHADOW - - - THE CHORUS GIRL - -One day while she was still pretty and young and her voice was sweet, -Nikolai Kolpakoff, an admirer of hers, was sitting in a room on the -second floor of her cottage. The afternoon was unbearably sultry and -hot. Kolpakoff, who had just dined and drunk a whole bottle of vile -port, felt thoroughly ill and out of sorts. Both he and she were bored, -and were waiting for the heat to abate so that they might go for a -stroll. - -Suddenly a bell rang in the hall. Kolpakoff, who was sitting in his -slippers without a coat, jumped up and looked at Pasha with a question -in his eyes. - -“It is probably the postman or one of the girls,” said the singer. - -Kolpakoff was not afraid of the postman or of Pasha’s girl friends, but -nevertheless he snatched up his coat and disappeared into the next room -while Pasha ran to open the door. What was her astonishment when she saw -on the threshold, not the postman nor a girl friend, but an unknown -woman, beautiful and young! Her dress was distinguished and she was -evidently a lady. - -The stranger was pale and was breathing heavily as if she were out of -breath from climbing the stairs. - -“What can I do for you?” Pasha inquired. - -The lady did not reply at once. She took a step forward, looked slowly -around the room, and sank into a chair as if her legs had collapsed -under her from faintness or fatigue. Her pale lips moved silently, -trying to utter words which would not come. - -“Is my husband here?” she asked at last, raising her large eyes with -their red and swollen lids to Pasha’s face. - -“What husband do you mean?” Pasha whispered, suddenly taking such -violent fright that her hands and feet grew as cold as ice. “What -husband?” she repeated beginning to tremble. - -“My husband—Nikolai Kolpakoff.” - -“N-no, my lady. I don’t know your husband.” - -A minute passed in silence. The stranger drew her handkerchief several -times across her pale lips, and held her breath in an effort to subdue -an inward trembling, while Pasha stood before her as motionless as a -statue, gazing at her full of uncertainty and fear. - -“So you say he is not here?” asked the lady. Her voice was firm now and -a strange smile had twisted her lips. - -“I—I—don’t know whom you mean!” - -“You are a revolting, filthy, vile creature!” muttered the stranger -looking at Pasha with hatred and disgust. “Yes, yes, you are revolting. -I am glad indeed that an opportunity has come at last for me to tell you -this!” - -Pasha felt that she was producing the effect of something indecent and -foul on this lady in black, with the angry eyes and the long, slender -fingers, and she was ashamed of her fat, red cheeks, the pock-mark on -her nose, and the lock of hair on her forehead that would never stay up. -She thought that if she were thin and her face were not powdered, and -she had not that curl on her forehead, she would not feel so afraid and -ashamed standing there before this mysterious, unknown lady. - -“Where is my husband?” the lady went on. “However it makes no difference -to me whether he is here or not, I only want you to know that he has -been caught embezzling funds intrusted to him, and that the police are -looking for him. He is going to be arrested. Now see what you have -done!” - -The lady rose and began to walk up and down in violent agitation. Pasha -stared at her; fear rendered her uncomprehending. - -“He will be found to-day and arrested,” the lady repeated with a sob -full of bitterness and rage. “I know who has brought this horror upon -him! Disgusting, abominable woman! Horrible, bought creature! (Here the -lady’s lips curled and her nose wrinkled with aversion.) I am impotent. -Listen to me, you low woman. I am impotent and you are stronger than I, -but there is One who will avenge me and my children. God’s eyes see all -things. He is just. He will call you to account for every tear I have -shed, every sleepless night I have passed. The time will come when you -will remember me!” - -Once more silence fell. The lady walked to and fro wringing her hands. -Pasha continued to watch her dully, uncomprehendingly, dazed with doubt, -waiting for her to do something terrible. - -“I don’t know what you mean, my lady!” she suddenly cried, and burst -into tears. - -“That’s a lie!” screamed the lady, her eyes flashing with anger. “I know -all about it! I have known about you for a long time. I know that he has -been coming here every day for the last month.” - -“Yes—and what if he has? Is it my fault? I have a great many visitors, -but I don’t force any one to come. They are free to do as they please.” - -“I tell you he is accused of embezzlement! He has taken money that -didn’t belong to him, and for the sake of a woman like you—for your -sake, he has brought himself to commit a crime! Listen to me,” the lady -said sternly, halting before Pasha. “You are an unprincipled woman, I -know. You exist to bring misfortune to men, that is the object of your -life, but I cannot believe that you have fallen so low as not to have -one spark of humanity left in your breast. He has a wife, he has -children, oh, remember that! There is one means of saving us from -poverty and shame; if I can find nine hundred roubles to-day he will be -left in peace. Only nine hundred roubles!” - -“What nine hundred roubles?” asked Pasha feebly. “I—I don’t know—I -didn’t take——” - -“I am not asking you to give me nine hundred roubles, you have no money, -and I don’t want anything that belongs to you. It is something else that -I ask. Men generally give presents of jewellery to women like you. All I -ask is that you should give me back the things that my husband has given -you.” - -“My lady, he has never given me anything!” wailed Pasha beginning to -understand. - -“Then where is the money he has wasted? He has squandered in some way -his own fortune, and mine, and the fortunes of others. Where has the -money gone? Listen, I implore you! I was excited just now and said some -unpleasant things, but I ask you to forgive me! I know you must hate me, -but if pity exists for you, oh, put yourself in my place! I implore you -to give me the jewellery!” - -“H’m—” said Pasha shrugging her shoulders. “I should do it with -pleasure, only I swear before God he never gave me a thing. He didn’t, -indeed. But, no, you are right,” the singer suddenly stammered in -confusion. “He did give me two little things. Wait a minute, I’ll fetch -them for you if you want them.” - -Pasha pulled out one of the drawers of her bureau, and took from it a -bracelet of hollow gold, and a narrow ring set with a ruby. - -“Here they are!” she said, handing them to her visitor. - -The lady grew angry and a spasm passed over her features. She felt that -she was being insulted. - -“What is this you are giving me?” she cried. “I’m not asking for alms, -but for the things that do not belong to you, for the things that you -have extracted from my weak and unhappy husband by your position. When I -saw you on the wharf with him on Thursday you were wearing costly -brooches and bracelets. Do you think you can play the innocent baby with -me? I ask you for the last time: will you give me those presents or -not?” - -“You are strange, I declare,” Pasha exclaimed, beginning to take -offence. “I swear to you that I have never had a thing from your -Nikolai, except this bracelet and ring. He has never given me anything, -but these and some little cakes.” - -“Little cakes!” the stranger laughed suddenly. “His children are -starving at home, and he brings you little cakes! So you won’t give up -the things?” - -Receiving no answer, the lady sat down, her eyes grew fixed, and she -seemed to be debating something. - -“What shall I do?” she murmured. “If I can’t get nine hundred roubles he -will be ruined as well as the children and myself. Shall I kill this -creature, or shall I go down on my knees to her?” - -The lady pressed her handkerchief to her eyes and burst into tears. - -“Oh, I beseech you!” she sobbed. “It is you who have disgraced and -ruined my husband; now save him! You can have no pity for him, I know; -but the children, remember the children! What have they done to deserve -this?” - -Pasha imagined his little children standing on the street corner weeping -with hunger, and she, too, burst into tears. - -“What can I do, my lady?” she cried. “You say I am a wicked creature who -has ruined your husband, but I swear to you before God I have never had -the least benefit from him! Mota is the only girl in our chorus who has -a rich friend, the rest of us all live on bread and water. Your husband -is an educated, pleasant gentleman, that’s why I received him. We can’t -pick and choose.” - -“I want the jewellery; give me the jewellery! I am weeping, I am -humiliating myself; see, I shall fall on my knees before you!” - -Pasha screamed with terror and waved her arms. She felt that this pale, -beautiful lady, who spoke the same refined language that people did in -plays, might really fall on her knees before her, and for the very -reason that she was so proud and high-bred, she would exalt herself by -doing this, and degrade the little singer. - -“Yes, yes, I’ll give you the jewellery!” Pasha cried hastily, wiping her -eyes. “Take it, but it did not come from your husband! I got it from -other visitors. But take it, if you want it!” - -Pasha pulled out an upper drawer of the bureau, and took from it a -diamond brooch, a string of corals, two or three rings, and a bracelet. -These she handed to the lady. - -“Here is the jewellery, but I tell you again your husband never gave me -a thing. Take it, and may you be the richer for having it!” Pasha went -on, offended by the lady’s threat that she would go down on her knees. -“You are a lady and his lawful wife—keep him at home then! The idea of -it! As if I had asked him to come here! He came because he wanted to!” - -The lady looked through her tears at the jewellery that Pasha had handed -her and said: - -“This isn’t all. There is scarcely five hundred roubles’ worth here.” - -Pasha violently snatched a gold watch, a cigarette-case, and a set of -studs out of the drawer and flung up her arms, exclaiming: - -“Now I am cleaned out! Look for yourself!” - -Her visitor sighed. With trembling hands she wrapped the trinkets in her -handkerchief, and went out without a word, without even a nod. - -The door of the adjoining room opened and Kolpakoff came out. His face -was pale and his head was shaking nervously, as if he had just swallowed -a very bitter draught. His eyes were full of tears. - -“I’d like to know what you ever gave me!” Pasha attacked him vehemently. -“When did you ever give me the smallest present?” - -“Presents—they are a detail, presents!” Kolpakoff cried, his head still -shaking. “Oh, my God, she wept before you, she abased herself!” - -“I ask you again: what have you ever given me?” screamed Pasha. - -“My God, she—a respectable, a proud woman, was actually ready to fall on -her knees before—before this—wench! And I have brought her to this! I -allowed it!” - -He seized his head in his hands. - -“No,” he groaned out, “I shall never forgive myself for this—never! Get -away from me, wretch!” he cried, backing away from Pasha with horror, -and keeping her off with outstretched, trembling hands. “She was ready -to go down on her knees, and before whom?—Before you! Oh, my God!” - -He threw on his coat and, pushing Pasha contemptuously aside, strode to -the door and went out. - -Pasha flung herself down on the sofa and burst into loud wails. She -already regretted the things she had given away so impulsively, and her -feelings were hurt. She remembered that a merchant had beaten her three -years ago for nothing, yes, absolutely for nothing, and at that thought -she wept louder than ever. - - - THE FATHER OF A FAMILY - -This is what generally follows a grand loss at cards or a drinking-bout, -when his indigestion begins to make itself felt. Stepan Jilin wakes up -in an uncommonly gloomy frame of mind. He looks sour, ruffled, and -peevish, and his grey face wears an expression partly discontented, -partly offended, and partly sneering. He dresses deliberately, slowly -drinks his vichy water, and begins roaming about the house. - -“I wish to goodness I knew what br-rute goes through here leaving all -the doors open!” he growls angrily, wrapping his dressing-gown about him -and noisily clearing his throat. “Take this paper away! What is it lying -here for? Though we keep twenty servants, this house is more untidy than -a hovel! Who rang the bell? Who’s there?” - -“Aunty Anfisa, who nursed our Fedia,” answers his wife. - -“Yes, loafing about, eating the bread of idleness!” - -“I don’t understand you, Stepan; you invited her here yourself and now -you are abusing her!” - -“I’m not abusing her. I’m talking! And you ought to find something to -do, too, good woman, instead of sitting there with your hands folded, -picking quarrels with your husband! I don’t understand a woman like you, -upon my word I don’t! How can you let day after day go by without -working? Here’s your husband toiling and moiling like an ox, like a -beast of burden, and there you are, his wife, his life’s companion, -sitting about like a doll without ever turning your hand to a thing, so -bored that you must seize every opportunity of quarrelling with him. -It’s high time for you to drop those schoolgirlish airs, madam! You’re -not a child nor a young miss any longer. You’re a woman, a mother! You -turn away, eh? Aha! You don’t like disagreeable truths, do you?” - -“It’s odd you only speak disagreeable truths when you have indigestion!” - -“That’s right, let’s have a scene; go ahead!” - -“Did you go to town yesterday or did you play cards somewhere?” - -“Well, and what if I did? Whose business is it? Am I accountable to any -one? Don’t I lose my own money? All that I spend and all that is spent -in this house is mine, do you hear that? Mine!” - -And so he persists in the same strain. But Jilin is never so crotchety, -so stern, so bristling with virtue and justice, as he is when sitting at -dinner with his household gathered about him. It generally begins with -the soup. Having swallowed his first spoonful, Jilin suddenly scowls and -stops eating. - -“What the devil—” he mutters. “So I’ll have to go to the café for -lunch——” - -“What is it?” asks his anxious wife. “Isn’t the soup good?” - -“I can’t conceive the swinish tastes a person must have to swallow this -mess! It is too salty, it smells of rags, it is flavoured with bugs and -not onions! Anfisa Pavlovna!” he cries to his guest. “It is shocking! I -give them oceans of money every day to buy food with, I deny myself -everything, and this is what they give me to eat! No doubt they would -like me to retire from business into the kitchen and do the cooking -myself!” - -“The soup is good to-day,” the governess timidly ventures. - -“Is it? Do you find it so?” inquires Jilin scowling angrily at her. -“Every one to his taste, but I must confess that yours and mine differ -widely, Varvara Vasilievna. You, for instance, admire the behavior of -that child there (Jilin points a tragic forefinger at his son). You are -in ecstasies over him, but I—I am shocked! Yes, I am!” - -Fedia, a boy of seven with a delicate, pale face, stops eating and -lowers his eyes. His cheeks grow paler than ever. - -“Yes, you are in ecstasies, and I am shocked. I don’t know which of us -is right, but I venture to think that I, as his father, know my own son -better than you do. Look at the way he is sitting! Is that how -well-behaved children should hold themselves? Sit up!” - -Fedia raises his chin and sticks out his neck and thinks he is sitting -up straighter. His eyes are filling with tears. - -“Eat your dinner! Hold your spoon properly! Don’t dare to snuffle! Look -me in the face!” - -Fedia tries to look at him, but his lips are quivering and the tears are -trickling down his cheeks. - -“Aha, so you’re crying? You’re naughty and that makes you cry, eh? Leave -the table and go and stand in the corner, puppy!” - -“But—do let him finish his dinner first!” his wife intercedes for the -boy. - -“No—no dinner! Such a—such a naughty brat has no right to eat dinner!” - -Fedia makes a wry face, slides down from his chair, and takes his stand -in a corner. - -“That’s the way to treat him,” his father continues. “If no one else -will take charge of his education I must do it myself. I won’t have you -being naughty and crying at dinner, sir! Spoiled brat! You ought to -work, do you hear me? Your father works, and you must work, too! No one -may sponge on others. Be a man, a M-A-N!” - -“For Heaven’s sake, hush!” his wife beseeches him in French. “At least -don’t bite our heads off in public! The old lady is listening to every -word, and the whole town will know of this, thanks to her.” - -“I’m not afraid of the public!” retorts Jilin in Russian. “Anfisa -Pavlovna can see for herself that I’m speaking the truth. What, do you -think I ought to be satisfied with that youngster there? Do you know how -much he costs me? Do you know, you worthless boy, how much you cost me? -Or do you think I can create money and that it falls into my lap of its -own accord? Stop bawling! Shut up! Do you hear me or not? Do you want me -to thrash you, little wretch?” - -Fedia breaks into piercing wails and begins sobbing. - -“Oh, this is absolutely unbearable!” exclaims his mother, throwing down -her napkin and getting up from the table. “He never lets us have our -dinner in peace. That’s where that bread of yours sticks!” - -She points to her throat and, putting her handkerchief to her eyes, -leaves the dining-room. - -“Her feelings are hurt,” mutters Jilin, forcing a smile. “She has been -too gently handled, Anfisa Pavlovna, and that’s why she doesn’t like to -hear the truth. We are to blame!” - -Several minutes elapse in silence. Jilin catches sight of the -dinner-plates and notices that the soup has not been touched. He sighs -deeply and glares at the flushed and agitated face of the governess. - -“Why don’t you eat your dinner, Varvara Vasilievna?” he demands. “You’re -offended, too, are you? I see, you don’t like the truth either. Forgive -me, but it is my nature never to be hypocritical. I always hit straight -from the shoulder. (A sigh.) I see, though, that my company is -distasteful to you. No one can speak or eat in my presence. You ought to -have told me that sooner so that I could have left you to yourselves. I -am going now.” - -Jilin rises and walks with dignity toward the door. He stops as he -passes the weeping Fedia. - -“After what has happened just now you are fr-ee!” he says to him with a -lofty toss of the head. “I shall no longer concern myself with your -education. I wash my hands of it. Forgive me if, out of sincere fatherly -solicitude for your welfare, I interfered with you and your -preceptresses. At the same time, I renounce forever all responsibility -for your future.” - -Fedia wails and sobs more loudly than ever. Jilin turns toward the door -with a stately air and walks off into his bedroom. - -After his noonday nap Jilin is tormented by the pangs of conscience. He -is ashamed of his behaviour to his wife, his son, and Anfisa Pavlovna, -and feels extremely uncomfortable on remembering what happened at -dinner. But his egotism is too strong for him and he is not man enough -to be truthful, so he continues to grumble and sulk. - -When he wakes up the following morning he feels in the gayest of moods -and whistles merrily at his ablutions. On entering the dining-room for -breakfast he finds Fedia. The boy rises at the sight of his father and -gazes at him with troubled eyes. - -“Well, how goes it, young man?” Jilin asks cheerfully as he sits down to -table. “What’s the news, old fellow? Are you all right, eh? Come here, -you little roly-poly, and give papa a kiss.” - -Fedia approaches his father with a pale, serious face and brushes his -cheek with trembling lips. Then he silently retreats and resumes his -place at the table. - - - THE ORATOR - -One Sunday morning they were burying the Collegiate Assessor Kiril -Ivanovitch, who had died from the two ailments so common amongst us: -drink and a scolding wife. While the funeral procession was crawling -from the church to the cemetery, a certain Poplavski, a colleague of the -defunct civil servant, jumped into a cab, and galloped off to fetch his -friend Gregory Zapoikin, a young but already popular man. As many of my -readers know, Zapoikin was the possessor of a remarkable talent for -making impromptu orations at weddings, jubilee celebrations, and -funerals. Whether he was half-asleep, or fasting, or dead drunk, or in a -fever, he was always ready to make a speech. His words always flowed -from his lips as smoothly and evenly and abundantly as water out of a -rain-pipe, and there were more heartrending expressions in his -oratorical vocabulary than there are black beetles in an inn. His -speeches were always eloquent and long, so long that sometimes, -especially at the weddings of merchants, the aid of the police had to be -summoned to put a stop to them. - -“I have come to carry you off with me, old chap,” began Poplavski. “Put -on your things this minute and come along. One of our colleagues has -kicked the bucket and we are about to despatch him into the next world. -We must have some sort of folderol to see him off with, you know! All -our hopes are centred on you! If one of our little fellows had died, we -shouldn’t have troubled you; but, after all, this one was an Assessor, a -pillar of the state, one might say. It wouldn’t do to bury a big fish -like him without some kind of an oration!” - -“Ah, the Assessor is it?” yawned Zapoikin. “What, that old soak?” - -“Yes, that old soak! There will be pancakes and caviar, you know, and -you will get your cab-fare paid. Come along, old man! Spout some of your -Ciceronian hyperboles over his grave and you’ll see the thanks you’ll -get from us all!” - -Zapoikin consented to go with alacrity. He ruffled his hair, veiled his -features in gloom, and stepped out with Poplavski into the street. - -“I know that Assessor of yours!” he said, as he took his seat in the -cab. “He was a rare brute of a rascal, God bless his soul!” - -“Come, let dead men alone, Grisha!” - -“Oh, of course, _de mortuis nil nisi bonum_, but that doesn’t make him -any less a rascal!” - -The friends overtook the funeral cortège. It was travelling so slowly -that before it reached its destination they had time to dash into a café -three times to drink a drop to the peace of the dead man’s soul. - -At the cemetery the litany had already been sung. The mother-in-law, the -wife, and the sister-in-law of the departed were weeping in torrents. -The wife even shrieked as the coffin was lowered into the grave: “Oh, -let me go with him!” But she did not follow her husband, probably -because she remembered his pension in time. Zapoikin waited until every -sound had ceased and then stepped forward, embraced the whole crowd at a -glance and began: - -“Can we believe our eyes and our ears? Is this not a terrible dream? -What is this grave here? What are these tear-stained faces, these sobs, -these groans? Alas, they are not a dream! He whom, but a short time -since we saw before us so valiant and brave, endowed still with all the -freshness of youth; he whom, before our eyes, like the untiring bee, we -saw carrying his burden of honey to the universal hive of the sovereign -good, he whom—this man has now become dust, a mirage! Pitiless death has -laid his bony hand upon him at a time when, notwithstanding the weight -of his years, he was still in the very bloom of his powers, and radiant -with hope. We have many a good servant of the state here, but Prokofi -Osipitch stood alone among them all. He was devoted body and soul to the -accomplishment of his honourable duties; he spared not his strength, and -it may well be said of him that he was always without fear and without -reproach. Ah, how he despised those who desired to buy his soul at the -expense of the public good; those who, with the seductive blessings of -earth, would fain have enticed him into a betrayal of the trusts -confided to him! Yea, before our very eyes we could see Prokofi Osipitch -giving his mite, his all, to comrades poorer than himself, and you have -heard for yourselves, but a few moments since, the cries of the widows -and orphans who lived by the kindness of his great heart. Engrossed in -the duties of his post and in deeds of charity, he knew no joy in this -world. Yea, he even forswore the happiness of family life. You know that -he remained a bachelor to the end of his days. Who will take the place -of this comrade of ours? I can see at this moment his gentle, -clean-shaven face turned toward us with a benevolent smile. I seem to -hear the soft, friendly tones of his voice. Eternal repose be to your -soul, Prokofi Osipitch! Rest in peace, noble, honourable toiler of -ours!” - -Zapoikin continued his oration, but his audience had begun to whisper -among themselves. The speech pleased every one and called forth numerous -tears, but it seemed a little strange to many who heard it. In the first -place, they could not understand why the speaker had referred to the -dead man as “Prokofi Osipitch” when his real name had been Kiril -Ivanovitch. In the second place, they all knew that the departed and his -wife had fought like cat and dog, and that therefore he could hardly -have been called a bachelor. In the third place, he had worn a thick red -beard, and had never shaved in his life, therefore they could not make -out why their Demosthenes had spoken of him as being clean-shaven. They -wondered and looked at one another and shrugged their shoulders. - -“Prokofi Osipitch!” the speaker continued with a rapt look at the grave. -“Prokofi Osipitch! You were ugly of face, it is true, yea, you were -almost uncouth; you were gloomy and stern, but well we knew that beneath -that deceitful exterior of yours there beat a warm and affectionate -heart!” - -The crowd was now beginning to notice something queer about the orator -himself. He was glaring intently at some object near him and was -shifting his position uneasily. At last he suddenly stopped, his jaw -dropped with amazement, and he turned to Poplavski. - -“Look here, that man’s alive!” he cried, his eyes starting out of his -head with horror. - -“Who’s alive?” - -“Why, Prokofi Osipitch! There he is now, standing by that monument!” - -“Of course he is! It was Kiril Ivanovitch that died, not he!” - -“But you said yourself it was the Assessor!” - -“I know! And wasn’t Kiril Ivanovitch the Assessor? Oh, you moon-calf! -You have got them mixed up! Of course Prokofi Osipitch used to be the -Assessor, but that was two years ago. He has been chief of a table in -chancery now for two years!” - -“It’s simply the devil to keep up with all you chaps!” - -“What are you stopping for? Go on! This is getting too awkward!” - -Zapoikin turned toward the grave, and continued his oration with all his -former eloquence. Yes, and there near the monument stood Prokofi -Osipitch, an old civil servant with a clean-shaven face, frowning and -glaring furiously at the speaker. - -“How in the world did you manage to do that?” laughed the officials as -they and Zapoikin drove home from the cemetery together. “Ha! Ha! Ha! A -funeral oration for a live man!” - -“You made a great mistake, young man!” growled Prokofi Osipitch. “Your -speech may have been appropriate enough for a dead man, but for a live -one it was—it was simply a joke. Allow me to ask you, what was it you -said? ‘Without fear and without reproach; he never took a bribe!’ Why, -you _couldn’t_ say a thing like that about a live man unless you were -joking! And no one asked you to dwell upon my personal appearance, young -gentleman! ‘Ugly and uncouth,’ eh! That may be quite true, but why did -you drag it in before every one in the city? I call it an insult!” - - - IONITCH - -If newcomers to the little provincial city of S. complained that life -there was monotonous and dull, its inhabitants would answer that, on the -contrary, S. was a very amusing place, indeed, that it had a library and -a club, that balls were given there, and finally, that very pleasant -families lived there with whom one might become acquainted. And they -always pointed to the Turkins as the most accomplished and most -enlightened family of all. - -These Turkins lived in a house of their own, on Main Street, next door -to the governor. Ivan Turkin, the father, was a stout, handsome, dark -man with side-whiskers. He often organized amateur theatricals for -charity, playing the parts of the old generals in them and coughing most -amusingly. He knew a lot of funny stories, riddles, and proverbs, and -loved to joke and pun with, all the while, such a quaint expression on -his face that no one ever knew whether he was serious or jesting. His -wife Vera was a thin, rather pretty woman who wore glasses and wrote -stories and novels which she liked to read aloud to her guests. -Katherine, the daughter, played the piano. In short, each member of the -family had his or her special talent. The Turkins always welcomed their -guests cordially and showed off their accomplishments to them with -cheerful and genial simplicity. The interior of their large stone house -was spacious, and, in summer, delightfully cool. Half of its windows -looked out upon a shady old garden where, on spring evenings, the -nightingales sang. Whenever there were guests in the house a mighty -chopping would always begin in the kitchen, and a smell of fried onions -would pervade the courtyard. These signs always foretold a sumptuous and -appetising supper. - -So it came to pass that when Dimitri Ionitch Startseff received his -appointment as government doctor, and went to live in Dialij, six miles -from S., he too, as an intelligent man, was told that he must not fail -to make the Turkins’ acquaintance. Turkin was presented to him on the -street one winter’s day; they talked of the weather and the theatre and -the cholera, and an invitation from Turkin followed. Next spring, on -Ascension Day, after he had received his patients, Startseff went into -town for a little holiday, and to make some purchases. He strolled along -at a leisurely pace (he had no horse of his own yet), and as he walked -he sang to himself: - - “Before I had drunk those tears from Life’s cup——” - -After dining in town he sauntered through the public gardens, and the -memory of Turkin’s invitation somehow came into his mind. He decided to -go to their house and see for himself what sort of people they were. - -“Be welcome, if you please!” cried Turkin, meeting him on the front -steps. “I am delighted, delighted to see such a welcome guest! Come, let -me introduce you to the missus. I told him, Vera,” he continued, -presenting the doctor to his wife, “I told him that no law of the Medes -and Persians allows him to shut himself up in his hospital as he does. -He ought to give society the benefit of his leisure hours, oughtn’t he, -dearest?” - -“Sit down here,” said Madame Turkin, beckoning him to a seat at her -side. “You may flirt with me, if you like. My husband is jealous, a -regular Othello, but we’ll try to behave so that he shan’t notice -anything.” - -“Oh, you little wretch, you!” murmured Turkin, tenderly kissing her -forehead. “You have come at a very opportune moment,” he went on, -addressing his guest. “My missus has just written a splendiferous novel -and is going to read it aloud to-day.” - -“Jean,” said Madame Turkin to her husband. “Dites que l’on nous donne du -thé.” - -Startseff next made the acquaintance of Miss Katherine, an eighteen-year -old girl who much resembled her mother. Like her, she was pretty and -slender; her expression was childlike still, and her figure delicate and -supple, but her full, girlish chest spoke of spring and of the -loveliness of spring. They drank tea with jam, honey, and sweetmeats and -ate delicious cakes that melted in the mouth. When evening came other -guests began to arrive, and Turkin turned his laughing eyes on each one -in turn exclaiming: - -“Be welcome, if you please!” - -When all had assembled, they took their seats in the drawing-room, and -Madame Turkin read her novel aloud. The story began with the words: “The -frost was tightening its grasp.” The windows were open wide, and sounds -of chopping could be heard in the kitchen, while the smell of fried -onions came floating through the air. Every one felt very peaceful -sitting there in those deep, soft armchairs, while the friendly -lamplight played tenderly among the shadows of the drawing-room. On that -evening of summer, with the sound of voices and laughter floating up -from the street, and the scent of lilacs blowing in through the open -windows, it was hard to imagine the frost tightening its grasp, and the -setting sun illuminating with its bleak rays a snowy plain and a -solitary wayfarer journeying across it. Madame Turkin read of how a -beautiful princess had built a school, and hospital, and library in the -village where she lived, and had fallen in love with a strolling artist. -She read of things that had never happened in this world, and yet it was -delightfully comfortable to sit there and listen to her, while such -pleasant and peaceful dreams floated through one’s fancy that one wished -never to move again. - -“Not baddish!” said Turkin softly. And one of the guests, who had -allowed his thoughts to roam far, far afield, said almost inaudibly: - -“Yes—it is indeed!” - -One hour passed, two hours passed. The town band began playing in the -public gardens, and a chorus of singers struck up “The Little Torch.” -After Madame Turkin had folded her manuscript, every one sat silent for -five minutes, listening to the old folk-song telling of things that -happen in life and not in story-books. - -“Do you have your stories published in the magazines?” asked Startseff. - -“No,” she answered. “I have never had anything published. I put all my -manuscripts away in a closet. Why should I publish them?” she added by -way of explanation. “We don’t need the money.” - -And for some reason every one sighed. - -“And now, Kitty, play us something,” said Turkin to his daughter. - -Some one raised the top of the piano, and opened the music which was -already lying at hand. Katherine struck the keys with both hands. Then -she struck them again with all her might, and then again and again. Her -chest and shoulders quivered, and she obstinately hammered the same -place, so that it seemed as if she were determined not to stop playing -until she had beaten the keyboard into the piano. The drawing-room was -filled with thunder; the floor, the ceiling, the furniture, everything -rumbled. Katherine played a long, monotonous piece, interesting only for -its intricacy, and as Startseff listened, he imagined he saw endless -rocks rolling down a high mountainside. He wanted them to stop rolling -as quickly as possible, and at the same time Katherine pleased him -immensely, she looked so energetic and strong, all rosy from her -exertions, with a lock of hair hanging down over her forehead. After his -winter spent among sick people and peasants in Dialij, it was a new and -agreeable sensation to be sitting in a drawing-room watching that -graceful, pure young girl and listening to those noisy, monotonous but -cultured sounds. - -“Well, Kitty, you played better than ever to-day!” exclaimed Turkin, -with tears in his eyes when his daughter had finished and risen from the -piano-stool. “Last the best, you know!” - -The guests all surrounded her exclaiming, congratulating, and declaring -that they had not heard such music for ages. Kitty listened in silence, -smiling a little, and triumph was written all over her face. - -“Wonderful! Beautiful!” - -“Beautiful!” exclaimed Startseff, abandoning himself to the general -enthusiasm. “Where did you study music? At the conservatory?” he asked -Katherine. - -“No, I haven’t been to the conservatory, but I am going there very soon. -So far I have only had lessons here from Madame Zakivska.” - -“Did you go to the high-school?” - -“Oh, dear no!” the mother answered for her daughter. “We had teachers -come to the house for her. She might have come under bad influences at -school, you know. While a girl is growing up she should be under her -mother’s influence only.” - -“I’m going to the conservatory all the same!” declared Katherine. - -“No, Kitty loves her mamma too much for that; Kitty would not grieve her -mamma and papa!” - -“Yes, I am going!” Katherine insisted, playfully and wilfully stamping -her little foot. - -At supper it was Turkin who showed off his accomplishments. With -laughing eyes, but with a serious face he told funny stories, and made -jokes, and asked ridiculous riddles which he answered himself. He spoke -a language all his own, full of laboured, acrobatic feats of wit, in the -shape of such words as “splendiferous,” “not baddish,” “I thank you -blindly,” which had clearly long since become a habit with him. - -But this was not the end of the entertainment. When the well-fed, -well-satisfied guests had trooped into the front hall to sort out their -hats and canes they found Pava the footman, a shaven-headed boy of -fourteen, bustling about among them. - -“Come now, Pava! Do your act!” cried Turkin to the lad. - -Pava struck an attitude, raised one hand, and said in a tragic voice: - -“Die, unhappy woman!” - -At which every one laughed. - -“Quite amusing!” thought Startseff, as he stepped out into the street. - -He went to a restaurant and had a glass of beer, and then started off on -foot for his home in Dialij. As he walked he sang to himself: - - “Your voice so languorous and soft——” - -He felt no trace of fatigue after his six-mile walk, and as he went to -bed he thought that, on the contrary, he would gladly have walked -another fifteen miles. - -“Not baddish!” he remembered as he fell asleep, and laughed aloud at the -recollection. - - - II - -After that Startseff was always meaning to go to the Turkins’ again, but -he was kept very busy in the hospital, and for the life of him could not -win an hour’s leisure for himself. More than a year of solitude and toil -thus went by, until one day a letter in a blue envelope was brought to -him from the city. - -Madame Turkin had long been a sufferer from headaches, but since Kitty -had begun to frighten her every day by threatening to go away to the -conservatory her attacks had become more frequent. All the doctors in -the city had treated her and now, at last, it was the country doctor’s -turn. Madame Turkin wrote him a moving appeal in which she implored him -to come, and relieve her sufferings. Startseff went, and after that he -began to visit the Turkins often, very often. The fact was, he did help -Madame Turkin a little, and she hastened to tell all her guests what a -wonderful and unusual physician he was, but it was not Madame Turkin’s -headaches that took Startseff to the house. - -One evening, on a holiday, when Katherine had finished her long, -wearisome exercises on the piano, they all went into the dining-room and -had sat there a long time drinking tea while Turkin told some of those -funny stories of his. Suddenly a bell rang. Some one had to go to the -front door to meet a newly come guest, and Startseff took advantage of -the momentary confusion to whisper into Katherine’s ear with intense -agitation: - -“For heaven’s sake come into the garden with me, I beseech you! Don’t -torment me!” - -She shrugged her shoulders as if in doubt as to what he wanted of her, -but rose, nevertheless, and went out with him. - -“You play for three or four hours a day on the piano, and then go and -sit with your mother, and I never have the slightest chance to talk to -you. Give me just one quarter of an hour, I implore you!” - -Autumn was approaching, and the old garden, its paths strewn with fallen -leaves, was quiet and melancholy. The early twilight was falling. - -“I have not seen you for one whole week,” Startseff went on. “If you -only knew what agony that has been for me! Let us sit down. Listen to -me!” - -The favourite haunt of both was a bench under an old spreading -maple-tree. On this they took their seats. - -“What is it you want?” asked Katherine in a hard, practical voice. - -“I have not seen you for one whole week. I have not heard you speak for -such a long time! I long madly for the sound of your voice. I hunger for -it! Speak to me now!” - -He was carried away by her freshness and the candid expression of her -eyes and cheeks. He even saw in the fit of her dress something -extraordinarily touching and sweet in its simplicity and artless grace. -And at the same time, with all her innocence, she seemed to him -wonderfully clever and precocious for her years. He could talk to her of -literature or art or anything he pleased and could pour out his -complaints to her about the life he led and the people he met, even if -she did sometimes laugh for no reason when he was talking seriously, or -jump up and run into the house. Like all the young ladies in S., she -read a great deal. Most people there read very little, and, indeed, it -was said in the library that if it were not for the girls, and the young -Jews, the building might as well be closed. This reading of Katherine’s -was an endless source of pleasure to Startseff. Each time he met her he -would ask her with emotion what she had been reading, and would listen -enchanted as she told him. - -“What have you read this week since we last saw one another?” he now -asked. “Tell me, I beg you.” - -“I have been reading Pisemski.” - -“What have you been reading of Pisemski’s?” - -“‘The Thousand Souls,’” answered Kitty. “What a funny name Pisemski had: -Alexei Theofilaktitch!” - -“Where are you going?” cried Startseff in terror as she suddenly jumped -up and started toward the house. “I absolutely must speak to you. I want -to tell you something! Stay with me, if only for five minutes, I implore -you!” - -She stopped as if she meant to answer him, and then awkwardly slipped a -note into his hand and ran away into the house where she took her seat -at the piano once more. - -“Meet me in the cemetery at Demetti’s grave to-night at eleven,” -Startseff read. - -“How absurd!” he thought, when he had recovered himself a little. “Why -in the cemetery? What is the sense of that?” - -The answer was clear: Kitty was fooling. Who would think seriously of -making a tryst at night in a cemetery far outside the city when it would -have been so easy to meet in the street or in the public gardens? Was it -becoming for him, a government doctor and a serious-minded person, to -sigh and receive notes and wander about a cemetery, and do silly things -that even schoolboys made fun of? How would this little adventure end? -What would his friends say if they knew of it? These were Startseff’s -reflections, as he wandered about among the tables at the club that -evening, but at half past ten he suddenly changed his mind and drove to -the cemetery. - -He had his own carriage and pair now, and a coachman named Panteleimon -in a long velvet coat. The moon was shining. The night was still and -mellow, but with an autumnal softness. The dogs barked at him as he -drove through the suburbs and out through the city gates. Startseff -stopped his carriage in an alley on the edge of the town and continued -his way to the cemetery on foot. - -“Every one has his freaks,” he reflected. “Kitty is freakish, too, and, -who knows, perhaps she was not joking and may come after all.” - -He abandoned himself to this faint, groundless hope, and it intoxicated -him. - -He crossed the fields for half a mile. The dark band of trees in the -cemetery appeared in the distance like a wood or a large garden, then a -white stone wall loomed up before him, and soon, by the light of the -moon, Startseff was able to read the inscription over the gate: “Thy -hour also approacheth—” He went in through a little side gate, and his -eye was struck first by the white crosses and monuments on either side -of a wide avenue, and by their black shadows and the shadows of the tall -poplars that bordered the walk. Around him, on all sides, he could see -the same checkering of white and black, with the sleeping trees brooding -over the white tombstones. The night did not seem so dark as it had -appeared in the fields. The fallen leaves of the maples, like tiny -hands, lay sharply defined upon the sandy walks and marble slabs, and -the inscriptions on the tombstones were clearly legible. Startseff was -struck with the reflection that he now saw for the first and perhaps the -last time a world unlike any other, a world that seemed to be the very -cradle of the soft moonlight, where there was no life, no, not a breath -of it; and yet, in every dark poplar, in every grave he felt the -presence of a great mystery promising life, calm, beautiful, and -eternal. Peace and sadness and mercy rose with the scent of autumn from -the graves, the leaves, and the faded flowers. - -Profoundest silence lay over all; the stars looked down from heaven with -deep humility. Startseff’s footsteps sounded jarring and out of place. -It was only when the church-bells began to ring the hour, and he -imagined himself lying dead under the ground for ever, that some one -seemed to be watching him, and he thought suddenly that here were not -silence and peace, but stifling despair and the dull anguish of -nonexistence. - -Demetti’s grave was a little chapel surmounted by an angel. An Italian -opera troupe had once come to S., and one of its members had died there. -She had been buried here, and this monument had been erected to her -memory. No one in the city any longer remembered her, but the shrine -lamp hanging in the doorway sparkled in the moon’s rays and seemed to be -alight. - -No one was at the grave, and who should come there at midnight? -Startseff waited, and the moonlight kindled all the passion in him. He -ardently painted in his imagination the longed-for kiss and the embrace. -He sat down beside the monument for half an hour, and then walked up and -down the paths with his hat in his hand, waiting and thinking. How many -girls, how many women, were lying here under these stones who had been -beautiful and enchanting, and who had loved and glowed with passion in -the night under the caresses of their lovers! How cruelly does Mother -Nature jest with mankind! How bitter to acknowledge it! So thought -Startseff and longed to scream aloud that he did not want to be jested -with, that he wanted love at any price. Around him gleamed not white -blocks of marble, but beautiful human forms timidly hiding among the -shadows of the trees. He felt keen anguish. - -Then, as if a curtain had been drawn across the scene, the moon vanished -behind a cloud and darkness fell about him. Startseff found the gate -with difficulty in the obscurity of the autumn night, and then wandered -about for more than an hour in search of the alley where he had left his -carriage. - -“I am so tired, I am ready to drop,” he said to Panteleimon. - -And, as he sank blissfully into his seat, he thought: - -“Oh dear, I must not get fat!” - - - III - -On the evening of the following day Startseff drove to the Turkins’ to -make his proposal. But he proved to have come at an unfortunate time, as -Katherine was in her room having her hair dressed by a coiffeur before -going to a dance at the club. - -Once more Startseff was obliged to sit in the dining-room for an age -drinking tea. Seeing that his guest was pensive and bored, Turkin took a -scrap of paper out of his waistcoat pocket, and read aloud a droll -letter from his German manager telling how “all the disavowals on the -estate had been spoiled and all the modesty had been shaken down.” - -“They will probably give her a good dowry,” thought Startseff, listening -vacantly to what was being read. - -After his sleepless night he felt almost stunned, as if he had drunk -some sweet but poisonous sleeping potion. His mind was hazy but warm and -cheerful, though at the same time a cold, hard fragment of his brain -kept reasoning with him and saying: - -“Stop before it is too late! Is she the woman for you? She is wilful and -spoiled; she sleeps until two every day, and you are a government doctor -and a poor deacon’s son.” - -“Well, what does that matter?” he thought. “What if I am?” - -“And what is more,” that cold fragment continued. “If you marry her her -family will make you give up your government position, and live in -town.” - -“And what of that?” he thought. “I’ll live in town then! She will have a -dowry. We will keep house.” - -At last Katherine appeared, looking pretty and immaculate in her -low-necked ball dress, and the moment Startseff saw her he fell into -such transports that he could not utter a word and could only stare at -her and laugh. - -She began to say good-bye, and as there was nothing to keep him here now -that she was going, he, too, rose, saying that it was time for him to be -off to attend to his patients in Dialij. - -“If you must go now,” said Turkin, “you can take Kitty to the club; it -is on your way.” - -A light drizzle was falling and it was very dark, so that only by the -help of Panteleimon’s cough could they tell where the carriage was. The -hood of the victoria was raised. - -“Roll away!” cried Turkin, seating his daughter in the carriage. -“Rolling stones gather no moss! God speed you, if you please!” - -They drove away. - -“I went to the cemetery last night,” Startseff began. “How heartless and -unkind of you——” - -“You went to the cemetery?” - -“Yes, I did, and waited there for you until nearly two o’clock. I was -very unhappy.” - -“Then be unhappy if you can’t understand a joke!” - -Delighted to have caught her lover so cleverly, and to see him so much -in love, Katherine burst out laughing, and then suddenly screamed as the -carriage tipped and turned sharply in at the club gates. Startseff put -his arm around her waist, and in her fright the girl pressed closer to -him. At that he could contain himself no longer, and passionately kissed -her on the lips and on the chin, holding her tighter than ever. - -“That will do!” she said drily. - -And a moment later she was no longer in the carriage, and the policeman -standing near the lighted entrance to the club was shouting to -Panteleimon in a harsh voice: - -“Move on, you old crow! What are you standing there for?” - -Startseff drove home, but only to return at once arrayed in a borrowed -dress suit and a stiff collar that was always trying to climb up off the -collar-band. At midnight he was sitting in the reception-room of the -club, saying passionately to Katherine: - -“Oh, how ignorant people are who have never loved! No one, I think, has -ever truly described love, and it would scarcely be possible to depict -this tender, blissful, agonising feeling. He who has once felt it would -never be able to put it into words. Do I need introductions and -descriptions? Do I need oratory to tell me what it is? My love is -unspeakable—I beg you, I implore you to be my wife!” cried Startseff at -last. - -“Dimitri Ionitch,” said Katherine, assuming a very serious, thoughtful -expression. “Dimitri Ionitch, I am very grateful to you for the honour -you do me. I esteem you, but—” here she rose and stood before him. “But, -forgive me, I cannot be your wife. Let us be serious. You know, Dimitri -Ionitch, that I love art more than anything else in the world. I am -passionately fond of, I adore, music, and if I could I would consecrate -my whole life to it. I want to be a musician. I long for fame and -success and freedom and you ask me to go on living in this town, and to -continue this empty, useless existence which has become unbearable to -me! You want me to marry? Ah no, that cannot be! One should strive for a -higher and brighter ideal, and family life would tie me down for ever. -Dimitri Ionitch—” (she smiled a little as she said these words, -remembering Alexei Theofilaktitch) “Dimitri Ionitch, you are kind and -noble and clever, you are the nicest man I know” (her eyes filled with -tears). “I sympathise with you with all my heart, but—but you must -understand——” - -She turned away and left the room, unable to restrain her tears. - -Startseff’s heart ceased beating madly. His first action on reaching the -street was to tear off his stiff collar and draw a long, deep breath. He -felt a little humiliated, and his pride was stung, for he had not -expected a refusal, and could not believe that all his hopes and pangs -and dreams had come to such a silly ending; he might as well have been -the hero of a playlet at a performance of amateur theatricals! He -regretted his lost love and emotion, regretted it so keenly that he -could have sobbed aloud or given Panteleimon’s broad back a good, sound -blow with his umbrella. - -For three days after that evening his business went to ruin, and he -could neither eat nor sleep, but when he heard a rumour that Katherine -had gone to Moscow to enter the conservatory he grew calmer, and once -more gathered up the lost threads of his life. - -Later, when he remembered how he had wandered about the cemetery and -rushed all over town looking for a dress suit, he would yawn lazily and -say: - -“What a business that was!” - - - IV - -Four years went by. Startseff now had a large practice in the city. He -hastily prescribed for his sick people every morning at Dialij, and then -drove to town to see his patients there, returning late at night. He had -grown stouter and heavier, and would not walk, if he could help it, -suffering as he did from asthma. Panteleimon, too, had become stouter, -and the more he grew in width the more bitterly he sighed and lamented -his hard lot: he was so tired of driving! - -Startseff was now an occasional guest at several houses, but he had made -close friends with no one. The conversation, the point of view, and even -the looks of the inhabitants of S. bored him. Experience had taught him -that as long as he played cards, or dined with them, they were peaceful, -good-natured, and even fairly intelligent folk, but he had only to speak -of anything that was not edible, he had only to mention politics or -science to them, for them to become utterly nonplussed, or else to talk -such foolish and mischievous nonsense that there was nothing to be done -but to shrug one’s shoulders and leave them. If Startseff tried to say -to even the most liberal of them that, for instance, mankind was -fortunately progressing, and that in time we should no longer suffer -under a system of passports and capital punishment, they would look at -him askance, and say mistrustfully: “Then one will be able to kill any -one one wants to on the street, will one?” Or if at supper, in talking -about work, Startseff said that labour was a good thing, and every one -should work, each person present would take it as a personal affront and -begin an angry and tiresome argument. As they never did anything and -were not interested in anything, and as Startseff could never for the -life of him think of anything to say to them, he avoided all -conversation and confined himself to eating and playing cards. If there -was a family fête at one of the houses and he was asked to dinner, he -would eat in silence with his eyes fixed on his plate, listening to all -the uninteresting, false, stupid things that were being said around him -and feeling irritated and bored. But he would remain silent, and because -he always sternly held his tongue and never raised his eyes from his -plate, he was known as “the puffed-up Pole,” although he was no more of -a Pole than you or I. He shunned amusements, such as theatres and -concerts, but he played cards with enjoyment for two or three hours -every evening. There was one other pleasure to which he had -unconsciously, little by little, become addicted, and that was to empty -his pockets every evening of the little bills he had received in his -practice during the day. Sometimes he would find them scattered through -all his pockets, seventy roubles’ worth of them, yellow ones and green -ones, smelling of scent, and vinegar, and incense, and kerosene. When he -had collected a hundred or more he would take them to the Mutual Loan -Society, and have them put to his account. - -In all the four years following Katherine’s departure, he had only been -to the Turkins’ twice, each time at the request of Madame Turkin, who -was still suffering from headaches. Katherine came back every summer to -visit her parents, but he did not see her once; chance, somehow, willed -otherwise. - -And so four years had gone by. One warm, still morning a letter was -brought to him at the hospital. Madame Turkin wrote that she missed -Dimitri Ionitch very much and begged him to come without fail and -relieve her sufferings, especially as it happened to be her birthday -that day. At the end of the letter was a postscript: “I join my -entreaties to those of my mother. K.” - -Startseff reflected a moment, and in the evening he drove to the -Turkins’. - -“Ah, be welcome, if you please!” Turkin cried with smiling eyes. -“Bonjour to you!” - -Madame Turkin, who had aged greatly and whose hair was now white, -pressed his hand and sighed affectedly, saying: - -“You don’t want to flirt with me I see, doctor, you never come to see -me. I am too old for you, but here is a young thing, perhaps she may be -more lucky than I am!” - -And Kitty? She had grown thinner and paler and was handsomer and more -graceful than before, but she was Miss Katherine now, and Kitty no -longer. Her freshness, and her artless, childish expression were gone; -there was something new in her glance and manner, something timid and -apologetic, as if she no longer felt at home here, in the house of the -Turkins. - -“How many summers, how many winters have gone by!” she said, giving her -hand to Startseff, and one could see that her heart was beating -anxiously. She looked curiously and intently into his face, and -continued: “How stout you have grown! You look browner and more manly, -but otherwise you haven’t changed much.” - -She pleased him now as she had pleased him before, she pleased him very -much, but something seemed to be wanting in her—or was it that there was -something about her which would better have been lacking? He could not -say, but he was prevented, somehow, from feeling toward her as he had -felt in the past. He did not like her pallor, the new expression in her -face, her weak smile, her voice, and, in a little while, he did not like -her dress and the chair she was sitting in, and something displeased him -about the past in which he had nearly married her. He remembered his -love and the dreams and hopes that had thrilled him four years ago, and -at the recollection he felt awkward. - -They drank tea and ate cake. Then Madame Turkin read a story aloud, read -of things that had never happened in this world, while Startseff sat -looking at her handsome grey head, waiting for her to finish. - -“It is not the people who can’t write novels who are stupid,” he -thought. “But the people who write them and can’t conceal it.” - -“Not baddish!” said Turkin. - -Then Katherine played a long, loud piece on the piano, and when she had -finished every one went into raptures and overwhelmed her with prolonged -expressions of gratitude. - -“It’s a good thing I didn’t marry her!” thought Startseff. - -She looked at him, evidently expecting him to invite her to go into the -garden, but he remained silent. - -“Do let us have a talk!” she said going up to him. “How are you? What -are you doing? Tell me about it all! I have been thinking about you for -three days,” she added nervously. “I wanted to write you a letter, I -wanted to go to see you myself at Dialij, and then changed my mind. I -have no idea how you will treat me now. I was so excited waiting for you -to-day. Do let us go into the garden!” - -They went out and took their seats under the old maple-tree, where they -had sat four years before. Night was falling. - -“Well, and what have you been doing?” asked Katherine. - -“Nothing much; just living somehow,” answered Startseff. - -And that was all he could think of saying. They were silent. - -“I am so excited!” said Katherine, covering her face with her hands. -“But don’t pay any attention to me. I am so glad to be at home, I am so -glad to see every one again that I cannot get used to it. How many -memories we have between us! I thought you and I would talk without -stopping until morning!” - -He saw her face and her shining eyes more closely now, and she looked -younger to him than she had in the house. Even her childish expression -seemed to have returned. She was gazing at him with naïve curiosity, as -if she wanted to see and understand more clearly this man who had once -loved her so tenderly and so unhappily. Her eyes thanked him for his -love. And he remembered all that had passed between them down to the -smallest detail, remembered how he had wandered about the cemetery and -had gone home exhausted at dawn. He grew suddenly sad and felt sorry to -think that the past had vanished for ever. A little flame sprang up in -his heart. - -“Do you remember how I took you to the club that evening?” he asked. “It -was raining and dark——” - -The little flame was burning more brightly, and now he wanted to talk -and to lament his dull life. - -“Alas!” he sighed. “You ask what I have been doing! What do we all do -here? Nothing! We grow older and fatter and more sluggish. Day in, day -out our colourless life passes by without impressions, without thoughts. -It is money by day and the club by night, in the company of gamblers and -inebriates whom I cannot endure. What is there in that?” - -“But you have your work, your noble end in life. You used to like so -much to talk about your hospital. I was a queer girl then, I thought I -was a great pianist. All girls play the piano these days, and I played, -too; there was nothing remarkable about me. I am as much of a pianist as -mamma is an author. Of course I didn’t understand you then, but later, -in Moscow, I often thought of you. I thought only of you. Oh, what a joy -it must be to be a country doctor, to help the sick and to serve the -people! Oh, what a joy!” Katherine repeated with exaltation. “When I -thought of you while I was in Moscow you seemed to me to be so lofty and -ideal——” - -Startseff remembered the little bills which he took out of his pockets -every evening with such pleasure, and the little flame went out. - -He rose to go into the house. She took his arm. - -“You are the nicest person I have ever known in my life,” she continued. -“We shall see one another and talk together often, shan’t we? Promise me -that! I am not a pianist, I cherish no more illusions about myself, and -shall not play to you or talk music to you any more.” - -When they had entered the house, and, in the evening light, Startseff -saw her face and her melancholy eyes turned on him full of gratitude and -suffering, he felt uneasy and thought again: - -“It’s a good thing I didn’t marry her!” - -He began to take his leave. - -“No law of the Medes and Persians allows you to go away before supper!” -cried Turkin, accompanying him to the door. “It is extremely peripatetic -on your part. Come, do your act!” he cried to Pava as they reached the -front hall. - -Pava, no longer a boy, but a young fellow with a moustache, struck an -attitude, raised one hand, and said in a tragic voice: - -“Die, unhappy woman!” - -All this irritated Startseff, and as he took his seat in his carriage -and looked at the house and the dark garden that had once been so dear -to him, he was overwhelmed by the recollection of Madame Turkin’s novels -and Kitty’s noisy playing and Turkin’s witticisms and Pava’s tragic -pose, and, as he recalled them, he thought: - -“If the cleverest people in town are as stupid as that, what a deadly -town this must be!” - -Three days later Pava brought the doctor a letter from Katherine. - - “You don’t come to see us; why?” she wrote. “I am afraid your feeling - for us has changed, and the very thought of that terrifies me. Calm my - fears; come and tell me that all is well! I absolutely must see you. - - Yours, - K. T.” - -He read the letter, reflected a moment, and said to Pava: - -“Tell them I can’t get away to-day, my boy. Tell them I’ll go to see -them in three days’ time.” - -But three days went by, a week went by, and still he did not go. Every -time that he drove past the Turkins’ house he remembered that he ought -to drop in there for a few minutes; he remembered it and—did not go. - -He never went to the Turkins’ again. - - - V - -Several years have passed since then. Startseff is stouter than ever -now, he is even fat. He breathes heavily and walks with his head thrown -back. The picture he now makes, as he drives by with his troika and his -jingling carriage-bells, is impressive. He is round and red, and -Panteleimon, round and red, with a brawny neck, sits on the box with his -arms stuck straight out in front of him like pieces of wood, shouting to -every one he meets: “Turn to the right!” It is more like the passage of -a heathen god than of a man. He has an immense practice in the city, -there is no time for repining now. He already owns an estate in the -country and two houses in town, and is thinking of buying a third which -will be even more remunerative than the others. If, at the Mutual Loan -Society, he hears of a house for sale he goes straight to it, enters it -without more ado, and walks through all the rooms not paying the -slightest heed to any women or children who may be dressing there, -though they look at him with doubt and fear. He taps all the doors with -his cane and asks: - -“Is this the library? Is this a bedroom? And what is this?” - -And he breathes heavily as he says it and wipes the perspiration from -his forehead. - -Although he has so much business on his hands, he still keeps his -position of government doctor at Dialij. His acquisitiveness is too -strong, and he wants to find time for everything. He is simply called -“Ionitch” now, both in Dialij and in the city. “Where is Ionitch going?” -the people ask, or “Shall we call in Ionitch to the consultation?” - -His voice has changed and has become squeaky and harsh, probably because -his throat is obstructed with fat. His character, too, has changed and -he has grown irascible and crusty. He generally loses his temper with -his patients and irritably thumps the floor with his stick, exclaiming -in his unpleasant voice: - -“Be good enough to confine yourself to answering my questions! No -conversation!” - -He is lonely, he is bored, and nothing interests him. - -During all his life in Dialij his love for Kitty had been his only -happiness, and will probably be his last. In the evening he plays cards -in the club, and then sits alone at a large table and has supper. Ivan, -the oldest and most respectable of the waiters, waits upon him and pours -out his glass of Lafitte No. 17. Every one at the club, the officers and -the chef and the waiters, all know what he likes and what he doesn’t -like and strive with might and main to please him, for if they don’t he -will suddenly grow angry and begin thumping the floor with his cane. - -After supper he occasionally relents and takes part in a conversation. - -“What were you saying? What? Whom did you say?” - -And if the conversation at a neighbouring table turns on the Turkins, he -asks: - -“Which Turkins do you mean? The ones whose daughter plays the piano?” - -That is all that can be said of Startseff. - -And the Turkins? The father has not grown old, and has not changed in -any way. He still makes jokes and tells funny stories. The mother still -reads her novels aloud to her guests, with as much pleasure and genial -simplicity as ever. Kitty practises the piano for four hours every day. -She has grown conspicuously older, is delicate, and goes to the Crimea -every autumn with her mother. As he bids them farewell at the station, -Turkin wipes his eyes and cries as the train moves away: - -“God speed you, if you please!” - -And he waves his handkerchief after them. - - - AT CHRISTMAS TIME - -“What shall I write?” asked Yegor, dipping his pen in the ink. - -Vasilissa had not seen her daughter for four years. Efimia had gone away -to St. Petersburg with her husband after her wedding, had written two -letters, and then had vanished as if the earth had engulfed her, not a -word nor a sound had come from her since. So now, whether the aged -mother was milking the cow at daybreak, or lighting the stove, or dozing -at night, the tenor of her thoughts was always the same: “How is Efimia? -Is she alive and well?” She wanted to send her a letter, but the old -father could not write, and there was no one whom they could ask to -write it for them. - -But now Christmas had come, and Vasilissa could endure the silence no -longer. She went to the tavern to see Yegor, the innkeeper’s wife’s -brother, who had done nothing but sit idly at home in the tavern since -he had come back from military service, but of whom people said that he -wrote the most beautiful letters, if only one paid him enough. Vasilissa -talked with the cook at the tavern, and with the innkeeper’s wife, and -finally with Yegor himself, and at last they agreed on a price of -fifteen copecks. - -So now, on the second day of the Christmas festival, Yegor was sitting -at a table in the inn kitchen with a pen in his hand. Vasilissa was -standing in front of him, plunged in thought, with a look of care and -sorrow on her face. Her husband, Peter, a tall, gaunt old man with a -bald, brown head, had accompanied her. He was staring steadily in front -of him like a blind man; a pan of pork that was frying on the stove was -sizzling and puffing, and seeming to say: “Hush, hush, hush!” The -kitchen was hot and close. - -“What shall I write?” Yegor asked again. - -“What’s that?” asked Vasilissa, looking at him angrily and suspiciously. -“Don’t hurry me! You are writing this letter for money, not for love! -Now then, begin. To our esteemed son-in-law, Andrei Khrisanfitch, and -our only and beloved daughter Efimia, we send greetings and love, and -the everlasting blessing of their parents.” - -“All right, fire away!” - -“We wish them a happy Christmas. We are alive and well, and we wish the -same for you in the name of God, our Father in heaven—our Father in -heaven——” - -Vasilissa stopped to think, and exchanged glances with the old man. - -“We wish the same for you in the name of God, our Father in Heaven—” she -repeated and burst into tears. - -That was all she could say. Yet she had thought, as she had lain awake -thinking night after night, that ten letters could not contain all she -wanted to say. Much water had flowed into the sea since their daughter -had gone away with her husband, and the old people had been as lonely as -orphans, sighing sadly in the night hours, as if they had buried their -child. How many things had happened in the village in all these years! -How many people had married, how many had died! How long the winters had -been, and how long the nights! - -“My, but it’s hot!” exclaimed Yegor, unbuttoning his waistcoat. “The -temperature must be seventy! Well, what next?” he asked. - -The old people answered nothing. - -“What is your son-in-law’s profession?” - -“He used to be a soldier, brother; you know that,” replied the old man -in a feeble voice. “He went into military service at the same time you -did. He used to be a soldier, but now he is in a hospital where a doctor -treats sick people with water. He is the doorkeeper there.” - -“You can see it written here,” said the old woman, taking a letter out -of her handkerchief. “We got this from Efimia a long, long time ago. She -may not be alive now.” - -Yegor reflected a moment, and then began to write swiftly. - -“Fate has ordained you for the military profession,” he wrote, -“therefore we recommend you to look into the articles on disciplinary -punishment and penal laws of the war department, and to find there the -laws of civilisation for members of that department.” - -When this was written he read it aloud whilst Vasilissa thought of how -she would like to write that there had been a famine last year, and that -their flour had not even lasted until Christmas, so that they had been -obliged to sell their cow; that the old man was often ill, and must soon -surrender his soul to God; that they needed money—but how could she put -all this into words? What should she say first and what last? - -“Turn your attention to the fifth volume of military definitions,” Yegor -wrote. “The word soldier is a general appellation, a distinguishing -term. Both the commander-in-chief of an army and the last infantryman in -the ranks are alike called soldiers——” - -The old man’s lips moved and he said in a low voice: - -“I should like to see my little grandchildren!” - -“What grandchildren?” asked the old woman crossly. “Perhaps there are no -grandchildren.” - -“No grandchildren? But perhaps there are! Who knows?” - -“And from this you may deduce,” Yegor hurried on, “which is an internal, -and which is a foreign enemy. Our greatest internal enemy is Bacchus——” - -The pen scraped and scratched, and drew long, curly lines like -fish-hooks across the paper. Yegor wrote at full speed and underlined -each sentence two or three times. He was sitting on a stool with his -legs stretched far apart under the table, a fat, lusty creature with a -fiery nape and the face of a bulldog. He was the very essence of coarse, -arrogant, stiff-necked vulgarity, proud to have been born and bred in a -pot-house, and Vasilissa well knew how vulgar he was, but could not find -words to express it, and could only glare angrily and suspiciously at -him. Her head ached from the sound of his voice and his unintelligible -words, and from the oppressive heat of the room, and her mind was -confused. She could neither think nor speak, and could only stand and -wait for Yegor’s pen to stop scratching. But the old man was looking at -the writer with unbounded confidence in his eyes. He trusted his old -woman who had brought him here, he trusted Yegor, and, when he had -spoken of the hydropathic establishment just now, his face had shown -that he trusted that, and the healing power of its waters. - -When the letter was written, Yegor got up and read it aloud from -beginning to end. The old man understood not a word, but he nodded his -head confidingly, and said: - -“Very good. It runs smoothly. Thank you kindly, it is very good.” - -They laid three five-copeck pieces on the table and went out. The old -man walked away staring straight ahead of him like a blind man, and a -look of utmost confidence lay in his eyes, but Vasilissa, as she left -the tavern, struck at a dog in her path and exclaimed angrily: - -“Ugh—the plague!” - -All that night the old woman lay awake full of restless thoughts, and at -dawn she rose, said her prayers, and walked eleven miles to the station -to post the letter. - - - II - -Doctor Moselweiser’s hydropathic establishment was open on New Year’s -Day as usual; the only difference was that Andrei Khrisanfitch, the -doorkeeper, was wearing unusually shiny boots and a uniform trimmed with -new gold braid, and that he wished every one who came in a happy New -Year. - -It was morning. Andrei was standing at the door reading a paper. At ten -o’clock precisely an old general came in who was one of the regular -visitors of the establishment. Behind him came the postman. Andrei took -the general’s cloak, and said: - -“A happy New Year to your Excellency!” - -“Thank you, friend, the same to you!” - -And as he mounted the stairs the general nodded toward a closed door and -asked, as he did every day, always forgetting the answer: - -“And what is there in there?” - -“A room for massage, your Excellency.” - -When the general’s footsteps had died away, Andrei looked over the -letters and found one addressed to him. He opened it, read a few lines, -and then, still looking at his newspaper, sauntered toward the little -room down-stairs at the end of a passage where he and his family lived. -His wife Efimia was sitting on the bed feeding a baby, her oldest boy -was standing at her knee with his curly head in her lap, and a third -child was lying asleep on the bed. - -Andrei entered their little room, and handed the letter to his wife, -saying: - -“This must be from the village.” - -Then he went out again, without raising his eyes from his newspaper, and -stopped in the passage not far from the door. He heard Efimia read the -first lines in a trembling voice. She could go no farther, but these -were enough. Tears streamed from her eyes and she threw her arms round -her eldest child and began talking to him and covering him with kisses. -It was hard to tell whether she was laughing or crying. - -“This is from granny and granddaddy,” she cried—“from the village—oh, -Queen of Heaven!—Oh! holy saints! The roofs are piled with snow there -now—and the trees are white, oh, so white! The little children are out -coasting on their dear little sleddies—and granddaddy darling, with his -dear bald head is sitting by the big, old, warm stove, and the little -brown doggie—oh, my precious chickabiddies——” - -Andrei remembered as he listened to her that his wife had given him -letters at three or four different times, and had asked him to send them -to the village, but important business had always interfered, and the -letters had remained lying about unposted. - -“And the little white hares are skipping about in the fields now—” -sobbed Efimia, embracing her boy with streaming eyes. “Granddaddy dear -is so kind and good, and granny is so kind and so full of pity. People’s -hearts are soft and warm in the village.—There is a little church there, -and the men sing in the choir. Oh, take us away from here, Queen of -Heaven! Intercede for us, merciful mother!” - -Andrei returned to his room to smoke until the next patient should come -in, and Efimia suddenly grew still and wiped her eyes; only her lips -quivered. She was afraid of him, oh, so afraid! She quaked and shuddered -at every look and every footstep of his, and never dared to open her -mouth in his presence. - -Andrei lit a cigarette, but at that moment a bell rang up-stairs. He put -out his cigarette, and assuming a very solemn expression, hurried to the -front door. - -The old general, rosy and fresh from his bath, was descending the -stairs. - -“And what is there in there?” he asked, pointing to a closed door. - -Andrei drew himself up at attention, and answered in a loud voice: - -“The hot douche, your Excellency.” - - - IN THE COACH HOUSE - -It was ten o’clock at night. Stepan, the coachman, Mikailo, the house -porter, Aliosha the coachman’s grandson who was visiting his -grandfather, and the old herring-vender Nikander who came peddling his -wares every evening were assembled around a lantern in the large coach -house playing cards. The door stood open and commanded a view of the -whole courtyard with the wide double gates, the manor-house, the ice and -vegetable cellars, and the servants’ quarters. The scene was wrapped in -the darkness of night, only four brilliantly lighted windows blazed in -the wing of the house, which had been rented to tenants. The carriages -and sleighs, with their shafts raised in the air, threw from the walls -to the door long, tremulous shadows which mingled with those cast by the -players around the lantern. In the stables beyond stood the horses, -separated from the coach house by a light railing. The scent of hay hung -in the air, and Nikander exhaled an unpleasant odour of herring. - -They were playing “Kings.” - -“I am king!” cried the porter, assuming a pose which he thought -befittingly regal, and blowing his nose loudly with a red and white -checked handkerchief. “Come on! Who wants to have his head cut off?” - -Aliosha, a boy of eight with a rough shock of blond hair, who had lacked -but two tricks of being a king himself, now cast eyes of resentment and -envy at the porter. He pouted and frowned. - -“I’m going to lead up to you, grandpa,” he said, pondering over his -cards. “I know you must have the queen of hearts.” - -“Come, little stupid, stop thinking and play!” - -Aliosha irresolutely led the knave of hearts. At that moment a bell rang -in the courtyard. - -“Oh, the devil—” muttered the porter rising. “The king must go and open -the gate.” - -When he returned a few moments later Aliosha was already a prince, the -herring-man was a soldier, and the coachman was a peasant. - -“It’s a bad business in there,” said the porter resuming his seat. “I -have just seen the doctor off. They didn’t get it out.” - -“Huh! How could they? All they did, I’ll be bound, was to make a hole in -his head. When a man has a bullet in his brain it’s no use to bother -with doctors!” - -“He is lying unconscious,” continued the porter. “He will surely die. -Aliosha, don’t look at my cards, lambkin, or you’ll get your ears boxed. -Yes, it was out with the doctor, and in with his father and mother; they -have just come. The Lord forbid such a crying and moaning as they are -carrying on! They keep saying that he was their only son. It’s a pity!” - -All, except Aliosha who was engrossed in the game, glanced up at the -lighted windows. - -“We have all got to go to the police station to-morrow,” said the -porter. “There is going to be an inquest. But what do I know about it? -Did I see what happened? All I know is that he called me this morning, -and gave me a letter and said: ‘Drop this in the letter-box.’ And his -eyes were all red with crying. His wife and children were away; they had -gone for a walk. So while I was taking his letter to the mail he shot -himself in the forehead with a revolver. When I came back his cook was -already shrieking at the top of her lungs.” - -“He committed a great sin!” said the herring-man in a hoarse voice, -wagging his head. “A great sin.” - -“He went crazy from knowing too much,” said the porter, picking up a -trick. “He used to sit up at night writing papers—play, peasant! But he -was a kind gentleman, and so pale and tall and black-eyed! He was a good -tenant.” - -“They say there was a woman at the bottom of it,” said the coachman, -slapping a ten of trumps on a king of hearts. “They say he was in love -with another man’s wife, and had got to dislike his own. That happens -sometimes.” - -“I crown myself king!” exclaimed the porter. - -The bell in the courtyard rang again. The victorious monarch spat -angrily and left the coach house. Shadows like those of dancing couples -were flitting to and fro across the windows of the wing. Frightened -voices and hurrying footsteps were heard. - -“The doctor must have come back,” said the coachman. “Our Mikailo is -running.” - -A strange, wild scream suddenly rent the air. - -Aliosha looked nervously first at his grandfather, and then at the -windows, and said: - -“He patted me on the head yesterday, and asked me where I was from. -Grandfather, who was that howling just now?” - -His grandfather said nothing, and turned up the flame of the lantern. - -“A man has died,” he said with a yawn. “His soul is lost and his -children are lost. This will be a disgrace to them for the rest of their -lives.” - -The porter returned, and sat down near the lantern. - -“He is dead!” he said. “The old women from the almshouse have been sent -for.” - -“Eternal peace and the kingdom of heaven be his!” whispered the coachman -crossing himself. - -Aliosha also crossed himself with his eyes on his grandfather. - -“You mustn’t pray for souls like his,” the herring-man said. - -“Why not?” - -“Because it’s a sin.” - -“That’s the truth,” the porter agreed. “His soul has gone straight to -the Evil One in hell.” - -“It’s a sin,” repeated the herring-man. “Men like him are neither -shriven nor buried in church, but shovelled away like carrion.” - -The old man got up, and slung his sack across his shoulder. - -“It happened that way with our general’s lady,” he said, adjusting the -pack on his back. “We were still serfs at that time, and her youngest -son shot himself in the head just as this one did, from knowing too -much. The law says that such people must be buried outside the -churchyard without a priest or a requiem. But to avoid the disgrace, our -mistress greased the palms of the doctors and the police, and they gave -her a paper saying that her son had done it by accident when he was -crazy with fever. Money can do anything. So he was given a fine funeral -with priests and music, and laid away under the church that his father -had built with his own money, where the rest of the family were. Well, -friends, one month passed, and another month passed, and nothing -happened. But during the third month our mistress was told that the -church watchmen wanted to see her. ‘What do they want?’ she asked. The -watchmen were brought to her, and they fell down at her feet. ‘Your -ladyship!’ they cried. ‘We can’t watch there any longer. You must find -some other watchmen, and let us go!’ ‘Why?’ she asked. ‘No!’ they said. -‘We can’t possibly stay. Your young gentleman howls under the church all -night long.’” - -Aliosha trembled and buried his face in his grandfather’s back so as not -to see those shining windows. - -“At first our mistress wouldn’t listen to their complaints,” the old man -went on. “She told them they were silly to be afraid of ghosts, and that -a dead man couldn’t possibly howl. But in a few days the watchmen came -back, and the deacon came with them. He, too, had heard the corpse -howling. Our mistress saw that the business was bad, so she shut herself -up in her room with the watchmen and said to them: ‘Here are twenty-five -roubles for you, my friends. Go into the church quietly at night when no -one can hear you, and dig up my unhappy son, and bury him outside the -churchyard.’ And she probably gave each man a glass of something to -drink. So the watchmen did as she told them. The tombstone with its -inscription lies under the church to-day, but the general’s son is -buried outside the churchyard. Oh, Lord, forgive us poor sinners!” -sighed the herring-man. “There is only one day a year on which one can -pray for such souls as his, and that is on the Saturday before Trinity -Sunday. It’s a sin to give food to beggars in their name, but one may -feed the birds for the peace of their souls. The general’s widow used to -go out to the crossroads every three days, and feed the birds. One day a -black dog suddenly appeared at the crossroads, gobbled up the bread, and -took to his heels. She knew who it was! For three days after that our -mistress was like a mad woman; she refused to take food or drink, and -every now and then she would suddenly fall down on her knees in the -garden, and pray. But I’ll say good night now, my friends. God and the -Queen of Heaven be with you! Come Mikailo, open the gate for me.” - -The herring-man and the porter went out, and the coachman and Aliosha -followed them so as not to be left alone in the coach house. - -“The man was living and now he is dead,” the coachman reflected, gazing -at the windows across which the shadows were still flitting. “This -morning he was walking about the courtyard, and now he is lying there -lifeless.” - -“Our time will come, too,” said the porter as he walked away with the -herring-man and was lost with him in the darkness. - -The coachman, followed by Aliosha, timidly approached the house and -looked in. A very pale woman, her large eyes red with tears, and a -handsome grey-haired man were moving two card-tables into the middle of -the room; some figures scribbled in chalk on their green baize tops were -still visible. The cook, who had shrieked so loudly that morning was now -standing on tiptoe on a table trying to cover a mirror with a sheet. - -“What are they doing, grandpa?” Aliosha asked in a whisper. - -“They are going to lay him on those tables soon,” answered the old man. -“Come, child, it’s time to go to sleep.” - -The coachman and Aliosha returned to the coach house. They said their -prayers and took off their boots. Stepan stretched himself on the floor -in a corner, and Aliosha climbed into a sleigh. The doors had been shut, -and the newly extinguished lantern filled the air with a strong smell of -smoking oil. In a few minutes Aliosha raised his head, and stared about -him; the light from those four windows was shining through the cracks of -the door. - -“Grandpa, I’m frightened!” he said. - -“There, there, go to sleep!” - -“But I tell you I’m frightened!” - -“What are you afraid of, you spoiled baby?” - -Both were silent. - -Suddenly Aliosha jumped out of the sleigh, burst into tears, and rushed -to his grandfather weeping loudly. - -“What is it? What’s the matter?” cried the startled coachman, jumping -up, too. - -“He’s howling!” - -“Who’s howling?” - -“I’m frightened, grandpa! Can’t you hear him?” - -“That is some one crying,” his grandfather answered. “Go back to sleep, -little silly. They are sad and so they are crying.” - -“I want to go home!” the boy persisted, sobbing and trembling like a -leaf. “Grandpa, do let us go home to mamma. Let us go, dear grandpa! God -will give you the kingdom of heaven if you will take me home!” - -“What a little idiot it is! There, there, be still, be still. Hush, I’ll -light the lantern, silly!” - -The coachman felt for the matches, and lit the lantern, but the light -did not calm Aliosha. - -“Grandpa, let’s go home!” he implored, weeping. “I’m so frightened here! -Oh, _oh_, I’m so frightened! Why did you send for me to come here, you -hateful man?” - -“Who is a hateful man? Are you calling your own grandfather names? I’ll -beat you for that!” - -“Beat me, grandpa, beat me like Sidorov’s goat, only take me back to -mamma! Oh, do! do!...” - -“There, there, child, hush!” the coachman whispered tenderly. “No one is -going to hurt you, don’t be afraid. Why, I’m getting frightened myself! -Say a prayer to God!” - -The door creaked and the porter thrust his head into the coach house. - -“Aren’t you asleep yet, Stepan?” he asked. “I can’t get any sleep -to-night, opening and shutting the gate every minute. Why, Aliosha, what -are you crying about?” - -“I’m frightened,” answered the coachman’s grandson. - -Again that wailing voice rang out. The porter said: - -“They are crying. His mother can’t believe her eyes. She is carrying on -terribly.” - -“Is the father there, too?” - -“Yes, he’s there, but he’s quiet. He’s sitting in a corner, and not -saying a word. The children have been sent to their relatives. Well, -Stepan, shall we have another game?” - -“Come on!” the coachman assented. “Go and lie down, Aliosha, and go to -sleep. Why you’re old enough to think of getting married, you young -rascal, and there you are bawling! Run along, child, run along!” - -The porter’s presence calmed Aliosha; he went timidly to his sleigh and -lay down. As he fell asleep he heard a whispering: - -“I take the trick,” his grandfather murmured. - -“I take the trick,” the porter repeated. - -The bell rang in the courtyard, the door creaked and seemed to say: - -“I take the trick!” - -When Aliosha saw the dead master in his dreams, and jumped up weeping -for fear of his eyes, it was already morning. His grandfather was -snoring, and the coach house no longer seemed full of terror. - - - LADY N——’S STORY - -One late afternoon, ten years ago, the examining magistrate, Peter -Sergeitch, and I rode to the station together at hay-making time to -fetch the mail. - -The weather was superb, but as we were riding home we heard thunder -growling, and saw an angry black cloud coming straight toward us. The -storm was approaching and we were riding into its very teeth. Our house -and the village church were gleaming white upon its breast, and the -tall, silvery poplars were glistening against it. The scent of rain and -of new-mown hay hung in the air. My companion was in high spirits, -laughing and talking the wildest nonsense. - -“How splendid it would be,” he cried, “if we should suddenly come upon -some antique castle of the Middle Ages with towers battlemented, -moss-grown, and owl-haunted, where we could take refuge from the storm -and where a bolt of lightning would end by striking us!” - -But at that moment the first wave swept across the rye and oat fields, -the wind moaned, and whirling dust filled the air. Peter Sergeitch -laughed and spurred his horse. - -“How glorious!” he cried. “How glorious!” - -His gay mood was infectious. I, too, laughed to think that in another -moment we should be wet to the skin, and perhaps struck by lightning. - -The blast and the swift pace thrilled us, and set our blood racing; we -caught our breath against the gale and felt like flying birds. - -The wind had fallen when we rode into our courtyard, and heavy drops of -rain were drumming on the roof and lawn. The stable was deserted. - -Peter Sergeitch himself unsaddled the horses, and led them into their -stalls. I stood at the stable door waiting for him, watching the descent -of the slanting sheets of rain. The sickly sweet scent of hay was even -stronger here than it had been in the fields. The air was dark with -thunder-clouds and rain. - -“What a flash!” cried Peter Sergeitch coming to my side after an -especially loud, rolling thunderclap that, it seemed, must have cleft -the sky in two. “Well?” - -He stood on the threshold beside me breathing deeply after our swift -ride, with his eyes fixed on my face. I saw that his glance was full of -admiration. - -“Oh, Natalia!” he cried. “I would give anything on earth to be able to -stand here for ever looking at you. You are glorious to-day.” - -His look was both rapturous and beseeching, his face was pale, and drops -of rain were glistening on his beard and moustache; these, too, seemed -to be looking lovingly at me. - -“I love you!” he cried. “I love you and I am happy because I can see -you. I know that you cannot be my wife, but I ask nothing, I desire -nothing; only know that I love you. Don’t answer me, don’t notice me, -only believe that you are very dear to me, and suffer me to look at -you.” - -His ecstasy communicated itself to me. I saw his rapt look, I heard the -tones of his voice mingling with the noise of the rain, and stood rooted -to the spot as if bewitched. I longed to look at those radiant eyes and -listen to those words for ever. - -“You are silent! Good!” said Peter Sergeitch. “Do not speak!” - -I was very happy. I laughed with pleasure, and ran through the pouring -rain into the house. He laughed too, and ran after me. - -We burst in wet and panting and tramped noisily up-stairs like two -children. My father and brother, unaccustomed to seeing me laughing and -gay, looked at me in surprise and began to laugh with us. - -The storm blew over, the thunder grew silent, but the rain-drops still -glistened on Peter Sergeitch’s beard. He sang and whistled and romped -noisily with the dog all the evening, chasing him through the house and -nearly knocking the butler carrying the samovar off his feet. He ate a -huge supper, talking all kinds of nonsense the while, swearing that if -you eat fresh cucumbers in winter you can smell the spring in your -nostrils. - -When I went to my room I lit the candle and threw the casement wide -open. A vague sensation took hold of me. I remembered that I was free -and healthy, well-born and rich, and that I was beloved, but chiefly -that I was well-born and rich—well-born and rich! Goodness, how -delightful that was! Later, shrinking into bed to escape the chill that -came stealing in from the garden with the dew, I lay and tried to decide -whether I loved Peter Sergeitch or not. Not being able to make head or -tail of the question, I went to sleep. - -Next morning when I awoke and saw the shadows of the lindens and the -trembling patches of sunlight that played across my bed, the events of -yesterday rose vividly before me. Life seemed rich, and varied, and full -of beauty. I dressed quickly and ran singing into the garden. - -And then, what happened? Nothing! When winter came and we moved to the -city, Peter Sergeitch seldom came to see us. Country acquaintances are -only attractive in the country. In town, in the winter, they lose half -their charm. When they come to call they look as if they were wearing -borrowed clothes, and they stir their tea much too long. Peter Sergeitch -sometimes spoke of love, but his words did not sound as enchanting as -they had in the country. Here we felt more keenly the barrier between -us. I was titled and rich; he was poor and was not even a noble, but an -examining magistrate, the son of a deacon. Both of us—I because I was -very young, and he, heaven knows why—considered this barrier very great -and very high. He smiled affectedly when he was with us in town and -criticised high society; if any one beside himself was in the -drawing-room he remained morosely silent. There is no barrier so high -but that it may be surmounted, but, from what I have known of him, the -modern hero of romance is too timid, too indolent and lazy, too finical -and ready to accept the idea that he is a failure cheated by life, to -make the struggle. Instead, he carps at the world, and calls it vile, -forgetting that his own criticism at last becomes vile in itself. - -I was beloved; happiness was near, seemed almost to be walking at my -side; my path was strewn with roses, and I lived without trying to -understand myself, not knowing what I was expecting nor what I demanded -from life. And so time went on and on—Men with their love passed near -me; bright days and warm nights flew by; the nightingales sang; the air -was sweet with new-mown hay—all these things, so dear, so touching to -remember, flashed by me swiftly, unheeded, as they do by every one, -leaving no trace behind them, until they vanished like mist. Where is it -all now? - -My father died; I grew older. All that had been so enchanting, so -gracious, so hope-inspiring; the sound of rain, the rolling of thunder, -dreams of happiness, and words of love, all these grew to be a memory -alone. I now see before me a level, deserted plain, bounded by a dark -and terrible horizon, without a living soul upon it. - -A bell rang. It was Peter Sergeitch. When I see the winter trees, -remembering how they decked themselves in green for me in summer time, I -whisper: - -“Oh, you darling things!” - -And when I see the people with whom I passed my own springtime, my heart -grows warm and sad, and I whisper the same words. - -Peter Sergeitch had moved to the city long ago through the influence of -my father. He was a little elderly now, and a little stooping. It was -long since he had spoken any words of love, he talked no nonsense now, -and was dissatisfied with his occupation. He was a little ailing, and a -little disillusioned; he snapped his fingers at life, and would have -been glad to have had it over. He took his seat in the chimney-corner -and looked silently into the fire. Not knowing what to say, I asked: - -“Well, what news have you?” - -“None at all.” - -Silence fell once more. The ruddy firelight played across his melancholy -features. - -I remembered our past, and suddenly my shoulders shook; I bent my head -and wept bitterly. I felt unbearably sorry for myself and for this man, -and I longed passionately for those things which had gone by, and which -life now denied us. I no longer cared for my riches or my title. - -I sobbed aloud with my head in my hands murmuring: “My God, my God, our -lives are ruined!” - -He sat silent and did not tell me not to weep. He knew that tears must -be shed, and that the time for them had come. I read his pity for me in -his eyes, and I, too, pitied him and was vexed with this timid failure -who had not been able to mould his life or mine aright. - -As I bade him farewell in the hall he seemed purposely to linger there, -putting on his coat. He kissed my hand in silence twice, and looked long -into my tear-stained face. I was sure that he was remembering that -thunder-storm, those sheets of rain, our laughter, and my face as it had -then been. He tried to say something; he would have done so gladly, but -nothing came. He only shook his head and pressed my hand—God bless him! - -When he had gone, I went back into the study and sat down on the carpet -before the fire. Grey ashes were beginning to creep over the dying -embers. The wintry blast was beating against the windows more angrily -than ever and chanting some tale in the chimney. - -The maid servant came in and called my name, thinking that I had fallen -asleep. - - - A JOURNEY BY CART - -They left the city at half past eight. - -The highway was dry and a splendid April sun was beating fiercely down, -but the snow still lay in the woods and wayside ditches. The long, dark, -cruel winter was only just over, spring had come in a breath, but to -Maria Vasilievna driving along the road in a cart there was nothing -either new or attractive in the warmth, or the listless, misty woods -flushed with the first heat of spring, or in the flocks of crows flying -far away across the wide, flooded meadows, or in the marvellous, -unfathomable sky into which one felt one could sail away with such -infinite pleasure. Maria Vasilievna had been a school teacher for thirty -years, and it would have been impossible for her to count the number of -times she had driven to town for her salary, and returned home as she -was doing now. It mattered not to her whether the season were spring, as -now, or winter, or autumn with darkness and rain; she invariably longed -for one thing and one thing only: a speedy end to her journey. - -She felt as if she had lived in this part of the world for a long, long -time, even a hundred years or more, and it seemed to her that she knew -every stone and every tree along the roadside between her school and the -city. Here lay her past and her present as well, and she could not -conceive of a future beyond her school and the road and the city, and -then the road and her school again, and then once more the road and the -city. - -Of her past before she had been a school teacher she had long since -ceased to think—she had almost forgotten it. She had had a father and -mother once, and had lived with them in a large apartment near the Red -Gate in Moscow, but her recollection of that life was as vague and -shadowy as a dream. Her father had died when she was ten years old, and -her mother had soon followed him. She had had a brother, an officer, -with whom she had corresponded at first, but he had lost the habit of -writing to her after a while, and had stopped answering her letters. Of -her former belongings her mother’s photograph was now her only -possession, and this had been so faded by the dampness of the school -that her mother’s features had all disappeared except the eyebrows and -hair. - -When they had gone three miles on their way old daddy Simon, who was -driving the cart, turned round and said: - -“They have caught one of the town officials and have shipped him away. -They say he killed the mayor of Moscow with the help of some Germans.” - -“Who told you that?” - -“Ivan Ionoff read it in the paper at the inn.” - -For a long time neither spoke. Maria Vasilievna was thinking of her -school, and the coming examinations for which she was preparing four -boys and one girl. And just as her mind was full of these examinations, -a landholder named Khanoff drove up with a four-in-hand harnessed to an -open carriage. It was he who had held the examination in her school the -year before. As he drove up alongside her cart he recognised her, bowed, -and exclaimed: - -“Good morning! Are you on your way home, may I ask?” - -Khanoff was a man of forty or thereabouts. His expression was listless -and blasé, and he had already begun to age perceptibly, but he was -handsome still and admired by women. He lived alone on a large estate; -he had no business anywhere, and it was said of him that he never did -anything at home but walk about and whistle, or else play chess with his -old man servant. It was also rumoured that he was a hard drinker. Maria -Vasilievna remembered that, as a matter of fact, at the last examination -even the papers that he had brought with him had smelled of scent and -wine. Everything he had had on that day had been new, and Maria -Vasilievna had liked him very much, and had even felt shy sitting there -beside him. She was used to receiving the visits of cold, critical -examiners, but this one did not remember a single prayer, and did not -know what questions he ought to ask. He had been extremely considerate -and polite, and had given all the children full marks for everything. - -“I am on my way to visit Bakvist” he now continued to Maria Vasilievna. -“Is it true that he is away from home?” - -They turned from the highway into a lane, Khanoff in the lead, Simon -following him. The four horses proceeded at a foot-pace, straining to -drag the heavy carriage through the mud. Simon tacked hither and thither -across the road, first driving round a bump, then round a puddle, and -jumping down from his seat every minute or so to give his horse a -helpful push. Maria Vasilievna continued to think about the school, and -whether the questions at the examinations would be difficult or easy. -She felt annoyed with the board of the zemstvo, for she had been there -yesterday, and had found no one in. How badly it was managed! Here it -was two years since she had been asking to have the school watchman -discharged for loafing and being rude to her and beating her scholars, -and yet no one had paid any heed to her request. The president of the -board was hardly ever in his office, and when he was, would vow with -tears in his eyes that he hadn’t time to attend to her now. The school -inspector came only three times a year, and knew nothing about his -business anyway, as he had formerly been an exciseman, and had obtained -the office of inspector through favour. The school board seldom met, and -no one ever knew where their meetings were held. The warden was an -illiterate peasant who owned a tannery, a rough and stupid man and a -close friend of the watchman’s. In fact, the Lord only knew whom one -could turn to to have complaints remedied and wrongs put right! - -“He really is handsome!” thought the schoolteacher glancing at Khanoff. - -The road grew worse and worse. They entered a wood. There was no -possibility of turning out of the track here, the ruts were deep and -full of gurgling, running water. Prickly twigs beat against their faces. - -“What a road, eh?” cried Khanoff laughing. - -The school teacher looked at him and marvelled that this queer fellow -should be living here. - -“What good do his wealth, his handsome face, and his fine culture do him -in this God-forsaken mud and solitude?” she thought. “He has abandoned -any advantage that fate may have given him, and is enduring the same -hardships as Simon, tramping with him along this impossible road. Why -does any one live here who could live in St. Petersburg or abroad?” - -And it seemed to her that it would be worth this rich man’s while to -make a good road out of this bad one, so that he might not have to -struggle with the mud, and be forced to see the despair written on the -faces of Simon and his coachman. But he only laughed, and was obviously -absolutely indifferent to it all, asking for no better life than this. - -“He is kind and gentle and unsophisticated,” Maria Vasilievna thought -again. “He does not understand the hardships of life any more than he -knew the suitable prayers to say at the examination. He gives globes to -the school and sincerely thinks himself a useful man and a conspicuous -benefactor of popular education. Much they need his globes in this -wilderness!” - -“Sit tight, Vasilievna!” shouted Simon. - -The cart tipped violently to one side and seemed to be falling over. -Something heavy rolled down on Maria Vasilievna’s feet, it proved to be -the purchases she had made in the city. They were crawling up a steep, -clayey hill now. Torrents of water were rushing noisily down on either -side of the track, and seemed to have eaten away the road bed. Surely it -would be impossible to get by! The horses began to snort. Khanoff jumped -out of his carriage and walked along the edge of the road in his long -overcoat. He felt hot. - -“What a road!” he laughed again. “My carriage will soon be smashed to -bits at this rate!” - -“And who asked you to go driving in weather like this?” asked Simon -sternly. “Why don’t you stay at home?” - -“It is tiresome staying at home, daddy. I don’t like it.” - -He looked gallant and tall walking beside old Simon, but in spite of his -grace there was an almost imperceptible something about his walk that -betrayed a being already rotten at the core, weak, and nearing his -downfall. And the air in the woods suddenly seemed to carry an odour of -wine. Maria Vasilievna shuddered, and began to feel sorry for this man -who for some unknown reason was going to his ruin. She thought that if -she were his wife or his sister she would gladly give up her whole life -to rescuing him from disaster. His wife? Alas! He lived alone on his -great estate, and she lived alone in a forlorn little village, and yet -the very idea that they might one day become intimate and equal seemed -to her impossible and absurd. Life was like that! And, at bottom, all -human relationships and all life were so incomprehensible that if you -thought about them at all dread would overwhelm you and your heart would -stop beating. - -“And how incomprehensible it is, too,” she thought, “that God should -give such beauty and charm and such kind, melancholy eyes to weak, -unhappy, useless people, and make every one like them so!” - -“I turn off to the right here,” Khanoff said, getting into his carriage. -“Farewell! A pleasant journey to you!” - -And once more Maria Vasilievna’s thoughts turned to her scholars, and -the coming examinations, and the watchman, and the school board, until a -gust of wind from the right bringing her the rumbling of the departing -carriage, other reveries mingled with these thoughts, and she longed to -dream of handsome eyes and love and the happiness that would never be -hers. - -She, a wife! Alas, how cold her little room was early in the morning! No -one ever lit her stove, because the watchman was always away somewhere. -Her pupils came at daybreak, with a great noise, bringing in with them -mud and snow, and everything was so bleak and so uncomfortable in her -little quarters of one small bedroom which also served as a kitchen! Her -head ached every day when school was over. She was obliged to collect -money from her scholars to buy wood and pay the watchman, and then to -give it to that fat, insolent peasant, the warden, and beg him for -mercy’s sake to send her a load of wood. And at night she would dream of -examinations and peasants and snow drifts. This life had aged and -hardened her, and she had grown plain and angular and awkward, as if -lead had been emptied into her veins. She was afraid of everything, and -never dared to sit down in the presence of the warden or a member of the -school board. If she mentioned any one of them in his absence, she -always spoke of him respectfully as “his Honour.” No one found her -attractive; her life was spent without love, without friendship, without -acquaintances who interested her. What a terrible calamity it would be -were she, in her situation, to fall in love! - -“Sit tight, Vasilievna!” - -Once more they were crawling up a steep hill. - -She had felt no call to be a teacher; want had forced her to be one. She -never thought about her mission in life or the value of education; the -most important things to her were, not her scholars nor their -instruction, but the examinations. And how could she think of a mission, -and of the value of education? School teachers, and poor doctors, and -apothecaries, struggling with their heavy labours, have not even the -consolation of thinking that they are advancing an ideal, and helping -mankind. Their heads are too full of thoughts of their daily crust of -bread, their wood, the bad roads, and their sicknesses for that. Their -life is tedious and hard. Only those stand it for any length of time who -are silent beasts of burden, like Maria Vasilievna. Those who are -sensitive and impetuous and nervous, and who talk of their mission in -life and of advancing a great ideal, soon become exhausted and give up -the fight. - -To find a dryer, shorter road, Simon sometimes struck across a meadow or -drove through a back-yard, but in some places the peasants would not let -him pass, in others the land belonged to a priest; here the road was -blocked, there Ivan Ionoff had bought a piece of land from his master -and surrounded it with a ditch. In such cases they had to turn back. - -They arrived at Nijni Gorodishe. In the snowy, grimy yard around the -tavern stood rows of wagons laden with huge flasks of oil of vitriol. A -great crowd of carriers had assembled in the tavern, and the air reeked -of vodka, tobacco, and sheepskin coats. Loud talk filled the room, and -the door with its weight and pulley banged incessantly. In the tap room -behind a partition some one was playing on the concertina without a -moment’s pause. Maria Vasilievna sat down to her tea, while at a near-by -table a group of peasants saturated with tea and the heat of the room -were drinking vodka and beer. - -A confused babel filled the room. - -“Did you hear that, Kuzma? Ha! Ha! What’s that? By God! Ivan Dementitch, -you’ll catch it for that! Look, brother!” - -A small, black-bearded, pock-marked peasant, who had been drunk for a -long time, gave an exclamation of surprise and swore an ugly oath. - -“What do you mean by swearing, you!” shouted Simon angrily from where he -sat, far away at the other end of the room. “Can’t you see there’s a -lady here?” - -“A lady!” mocked some one from another corner. - -“You pig, you!” - -“I didn’t mean to do it—” faltered the little peasant with -embarrassment. “Excuse me! My money is as good here as hers. How do you -do?” - -“How do you do?” answered the school teacher. - -“Very well, thank you kindly.” - -Maria Vasilievna enjoyed her tea, and grew as flushed as the peasants. -Her thoughts were once more running on the watchman and the wood. - -“Look there, brother!” she heard a voice at the next table cry. “There’s -the schoolmarm from Viasovia! I know her! She’s a nice lady.” - -“Yes, she’s a nice lady.” - -The door banged, men came and went. Maria Vasilievna sat absorbed in the -same thoughts that had occupied her before, and the concertina behind -the partition never ceased making music for an instant. Patches of -sunlight that had lain on the floor when she had come in had moved up to -the counter, then to the walls, and now had finally disappeared. So it -was afternoon. The carriers at the table next to hers rose and prepared -to leave. The little peasant went up to Maria Vasilievna swaying -slightly, and held out his hand. The others followed him; all shook -hands with the school teacher, and went out one by one. The door banged -and whined nine times. - -“Get ready, Vasilievna!” Simon cried. - -They started again, still at a walk. - -“A little school was built here in Nijni Gorodishe, not long ago,” said -Simon, looking back. “Some of the people sinned greatly.” - -“In what way?” - -“It seems the president of the school board grabbed one thousand -roubles, and the warden another thousand, and the teacher five hundred.” - -“A school always costs several thousand roubles. It is very wrong to -repeat scandal, daddy. What you have just told me is nonsense.” - -“I don’t know anything about it. I only tell you what people say.” - -It was clear, however, that Simon did not believe the school teacher. -None of the peasants believed her. They all thought that her salary was -too large (she got twenty roubles a month, and they thought that five -would have been plenty), and they also believed that most of the money -which she collected from the children for wood she pocketed herself. The -warden thought as all the other peasants did, and made a little out of -the wood himself, besides receiving secret pay from the peasants unknown -to the authorities. - -But now, thank goodness, they had finally passed through the last of the -woods, and from here on their road would lie through flat fields all the -way to Viasovia. Only a few miles more to go, and then they would cross -the river, and then the railway track, and then they would be at home. - -“Where are you going, Simon?” asked Maria Vasilievna. “Take the -right-hand road across the bridge!” - -“What’s that? We can cross here. It isn’t very deep.” - -“Don’t let the horse drown!” - -“What’s that?” - -“There is Khanoff crossing the bridge!” cried Maria Vasilievna, catching -sight of a carriage and four in the distance at their right. “Isn’t that -he?” - -“That’s him all right. He must have found Bakvist away. My goodness, -what a donkey to drive all the way round when this road is two miles -shorter!” - -They plunged into the river. In summer time it was a tiny stream, in -late spring it dwindled rapidly to a fordable river after the freshets, -and by August it was generally dry, but during flood time it was a -torrent of swift, cold, turbid water some fifty feet wide. Fresh wheel -tracks were visible now on the bank leading down to the water’s edge; -some one, then, must have crossed here. - -“Get up!” cried Simon, madly jerking the reins and flapping his arms -like a pair of wings. “Get up!” - -The horse waded into the stream up to his belly, stopped, and then -plunged on again, throwing his whole weight into the collar. Maria -Vasilievna felt a sharp wave of cold water lap her feet. - -“Go on!” she cried, rising in her seat. “Go on!” - -They drove out on the opposite bank. - -“Well, of all things! My goodness!” muttered Simon. “What a worthless -lot those zemstvo people are——” - -Maria Vasilievna’s goloshes and shoes were full of water, and the bottom -of her dress and coat and one of her sleeves were soaked and dripping. -Her sugar and flour were wet through, and this was harder to bear than -all the rest. In her despair she could only wave her arms, and cry: - -“Oh, Simon, Simon! How stupid you are, really——” - -The gate was down when they reached the railway crossing, an express -train was leaving the station. They stood and waited for the train to go -by, and Maria Vasilievna shivered with cold from head to foot. - -Viasovia was already in sight; there was the school with its green roof, -and there stood the church with its blazing crosses reflecting the rays -of the setting sun. The windows of the station were flashing, too, and a -cloud of rosy steam was rising from the engine. Everything seemed to the -school teacher to be shivering with cold. - -At last the train appeared. Its windows were blazing like the crosses on -the church, and their brilliance was dazzling. A lady was standing on -the platform of one of the first-class carriages. One glance at her as -she slipped past, and Maria Vasilievna thought: “My mother!” What a -resemblance there was! There was her mother’s thick and luxuriant hair; -there were her forehead and the poise of her head. For the first time in -all these thirty years Maria Vasilievna saw in imagination her mother, -her father, and her brother in their apartment in Moscow, saw everything -down to the least detail, even to the globe of goldfish in the -sitting-room. She heard the strains of a piano, and the sound of her -father’s voice, and saw herself young and pretty and gaily dressed, in a -warm, brightly lighted room with her family about her. Great joy and -happiness suddenly welled up in her heart, and she pressed her hands to -her temples in rapture, crying softly with a note of deep entreaty in -her voice: - -“Mother!” - -Then she wept, she could not have said why. At that moment Khanoff drove -up with his four-in-hand, and when she saw him she smiled and nodded to -him as if he and she were near and dear to each other, for she was -conjuring up in her fancy a felicity that could never be hers. The sky, -the trees, and the windows of the houses seemed to be reflecting her -happiness and rejoicing with her. No! Her mother and father had not -died; she had never been a school teacher; all that had been a long, -strange, painful dream, and now she was awake. - -“Vasilievna! Sit down!” - -And in a breath everything vanished. The gate slowly rose. Shivering and -numb with cold Maria Vasilievna sat down in the cart again. The -four-in-hand crossed the track and Simon followed. The watchman at the -crossing took off his cap as they drove by. - -“Here is Viasovia! The journey is over!” - - - THE PRIVY COUNCILLOR - -Early in April in the year 1870, my mother, Klavdia Arhipovna, the widow -of a lieutenant, received a letter from her brother Ivan, a privy -councillor in St. Petersburg. Among other things the letter said: - -“An affection of the liver obliges me to spend every summer abroad, but -as I have no funds this year with which to go to Marienbad, it is very -probable that I may spend the coming summer with you at Kotchneffka, -dear sister——” - -My mother turned pale and trembled from head to foot as she perused this -epistle, and an expression both smiling and tearful came into her face. -She began to weep and to laugh. This conflict between laughter and tears -always reminds me of the glitter and shimmer that follow when water is -spilled on a brightly burning candle. Having read the letter through -twice, my mother summoned her whole household together, and in a voice -quivering with excitement began explaining to them that there had been -four brothers in the Gundasoff family; one had died when he was a baby; -a second had been a soldier, and had also died; a third, she meant no -offence to him in saying it, had become an actor, and a fourth—— - -“The fourth brother is not of our world,” sobbed my mother. “He is my -own brother, we grew up together, and yet I am trembling all over at the -thought of him. He is a privy councillor, a general! How can I meet my -darling? What can a poor, uneducated woman like me find to talk to him -about? It is fifteen years since I saw him last. Andrusha, darling!” -cried my mother turning to me. “Rejoice little stupid, it is for your -sake that God is sending him here!” - -When we had all heard the history of the Gundasoff family down to the -smallest detail, there arose an uproar on the farm such as I had not -been accustomed to hearing except before weddings. Only the vault of -heaven, and the water in the river escaped; everything else was -subjected to a process of cleaning, scrubbing, and painting. If the sky -had been smaller and lower, and the river had not been so swift, they -too would have been scalded with boiling water and polished with cloths. -The walls were white as snow already, but they were whitewashed again. -The floors shone and glistened, but they were scrubbed every day. -Bobtail, the cat (so-called because I had chopped off a good portion of -his tail with a carving-knife when I was a baby), was taken from the -house into the kitchen and put in charge of Anfisa. Fedia was told that -if the dogs came anywhere near the front porch, “God would punish him.” -But nothing caught it so cruelly as did the unfortunate sofas and -carpets and chairs! Never before had they been so unmercifully beaten -with sticks as they now were in expectation of our guest’s arrival. -Hearing the blows, my doves fluttered anxiously about, and at last flew -away straight up into the very sky. - -From Novostroevka came Spiridon, the only tailor in the district who -ventured to sew for the gentry. He was a sober, hard-working, -intelligent man, not without some imagination and feeling for the -plastic arts, but he sewed abominably nevertheless. His doubts always -spoiled everything, for the idea that his clothes were not fashionable -enough made him cut everything over five times at least. He used to go -all the way to the city on foot on purpose to see how the young dandies -were dressed, and then decked us in costumes that even a caricaturist -would have called an exaggeration and a joke. We sported impossibly -tight trousers, and coats so short that we always felt embarrassed -whenever any young ladies were present. - -Spiridon slowly took my measurements. He measured me lengthways and -crossways as if he were going to fit me with barrel hoops, then wrote at -length upon a sheet of paper with a very thick pencil, and at last -marked his yardstick from end to end with little triangular notches. -Having finished with me, he began upon my tutor Gregory Pobedimski. This -unforgettable tutor of mine was just at the age when men anxiously watch -the growth of their moustaches, and are critical about their attire, so -that you may imagine with what holy terror Spiridon approached his -person! Pobedimski was made to throw his head back, and spread himself -apart like a V upside down, now raising, now lowering his arms. Spiridon -measured him several times, circling about him as a love-sick pigeon -circles about his mate; then he fell down on one knee, and bent himself -into the form of a hook. My mother, weary and worn with all this bustle -and faint from the heat of her irons in the laundry, said as she watched -all these endless proceedings: - -“Take care, Spiridon, God will call you to account if you spoil the -cloth! And you will be an unlucky man if you don’t hit the mark this -time!” - -My mother’s words first threw Spiridon into a sweat and then into a -fever, for he was very sure that he would not hit the mark. He asked one -rouble and twenty copecks for making my suit, and two roubles for making -my tutor’s. The cloth, the buttons, and the linings were supplied by us. -This cannot but seem cheap enough, especially when you consider that -Novostroevka was six miles away, and that he came to try on the clothes -four different times. At these fittings, as we pulled on our tight -trousers and coats all streaked with white basting threads, my mother -would look at our clothes, knit her brows with dissatisfaction and -exclaim: - -“Goodness knows we have queer fashions these days! I am almost ashamed -to look at you! If my brother did not live in St. Petersburg I declare I -wouldn’t have you dressed in the fashion!” - -Spiridon, delighted that the fashions and not he were catching the -blame, would shrug his shoulders, and sigh, as much as to say: - -“There is nothing to be done about it; it is the spirit of the times!” - -The trepidation with which we awaited the arrival of our guest can only -be compared to the excitement that prevails among spiritualists when -they are awaiting the appearance of a spirit. My mother had a headache, -and burst into tears every minute. I lost my appetite and my sleep, and -did not study my lessons. Even in my dreams I was devoured by my longing -to see a general, a man with epaulettes, an embroidered collar reaching -to his ears, and a naked sword in his hand; in short, a person exactly -like the general I saw hanging over the sofa in our drawing-room glaring -so balefully with his terrible black eyes at any one who ventured to -look at him. Pobedimski alone felt at ease. He neither trembled nor -rejoiced, and all he said as he listened to my mother’s stories of the -Gundasoff family was: - -“Yes, it will be pleasant to talk with somebody new.” - -My tutor was considered a very exceptional person on our farm. He was a -young man of twenty or thereabouts, pimply, ragged, with a low forehead, -and an uncommonly long nose. In fact, this nose of his was so long that -if he wanted to look at anything closely he had to put his head on one -side like a bird. He had gone through the six grades of the high-school, -and had then entered the Veterinary College, from which he had been -expelled in less than six months. By carefully concealing the reason of -his expulsion, my tutor gave every one who wished it an opportunity for -considering him a much-enduring and rather mysterious person. He talked -little, and when he did it was always on learned subjects; he ate meat -on fast-days, and looked upon the life about him in a high and mighty, -contemptuous fashion, which, however, did not prevent him from accepting -presents from my mother in the shape of suits of clothes, or from -painting funny faces with red teeth on my kites. My mother did not like -him on account of his “pride,” but she had a deep respect for his -learning. - -We had not long to wait for our guest. Early in May two wagons piled -with huge trunks arrived from the station. These trunks looked so -majestic that the coachman unconsciously took off his hat as he unloaded -them from the wagons. - -“They must be full of uniforms and gunpowder!” thought I. - -Why gunpowder? Probably because in my mind the idea of a general was -closely connected with powder and cannon. - -When my nurse woke me on the morning of the tenth of May, she announced -in a whisper that my “uncle had come!” I dressed hastily, washing anyhow -and forgetting my prayers, and scampered out of my room. In the hall I -ran straight into a tall, stout gentleman with fashionable side-whiskers -and an elegant overcoat. Swooning with horror, I drew myself up before -him, and remembering the ceremonial taught me by my mother, I bowed -deeply and attempted to kiss his hand. But the gentleman would not give -me his hand to kiss, and stated that he was not my uncle, but only -Peter, my uncle’s valet. The sight of this Peter, dressed a great deal -better than Pobedimski and myself, filled me with the profoundest -astonishment which, to tell the truth, has not left me to this day. Is -it possible that such grave, respectable men as he, with such stern, -intelligent faces can be servants? Why should they be? - -Peter told me that my uncle and mother were in the garden, and I rushed -thither as fast as my legs could carry me. - -Not knowing the history of the Gundasoff family and my uncle’s rank, -Nature felt a great deal freer and less constrained than I did. There -was an activity in the garden such as one only sees at a country fair. -Countless magpies were cleaving the air and hopping along the garden -paths, chasing the mayflies with noisy cries. A flock of crows was -swarming in the lilac bushes that thrust their delicate, fragrant -blossoms into my very face. From all sides came the songs of orioles and -the pipings of finches and blackbirds. At any other time I should have -darted off after the grasshoppers or thrown stones at a crow that was -sitting on a low haycock under a wasp’s nest turning its blunt bill from -side to side. But this was no time for play. My heart was hammering and -shivers were running up and down my back. I was about to see a man with -epaulettes, a naked sword, and terrible eyes! - -Imagine, then, my disappointment! A slender little dandy in a white silk -shirt and a white military cap was walking through the garden at my -mother’s side. Every now and then he would run on ahead and, with his -hands in his pockets and his head thrown back, he looked like quite a -young man. There was so much life and vivacity in his whole figure that -the treachery of old age only became apparent to me as I approached from -behind, and, peeping under his cap, saw the white hairs glistening -beneath the brim. Instead of a stolid, autocratic gravity I saw in him -an almost boyish nimbleness, and instead of a collar to the ears he wore -an ordinary light blue necktie. My mother and uncle were walking up and -down the path, chatting together. I crept up softly from behind and -waited for one of them to turn round and see me. - -“What an enchanting place you have here, Klavdia!” my uncle exclaimed. -“How sweet and lovely it all is! If I had known how beautiful it was -nothing could have taken me abroad all these years!” - -My uncle stooped abruptly, and put his nose to a tulip. Everything he -saw was a source of curiosity and delight to him, as if he had never -seen a garden, or a sunny day before in his life. The strange little man -moved as if on springs and chattered incessantly, not giving my mother a -chance to put in a word. All at once Pobedimski stepped out from behind -an elder bush at a turn of the path. His appearance was so unexpected -that my uncle started and fell back a step. My tutor was dressed in his -gala overcoat with a cape, in which he looked exactly like a windmill, -especially from behind. His mien was majestic and triumphant. With his -hat held close to his chest in Spanish fashion he took a step toward my -uncle, and bowed forward and slightly sideways like a marquis in a -melodrama. - -“I have the honour to present myself to your worshipful highness,” he -said in a loud voice. “I am a pedagogue, the instructor of your nephew, -and a former student at the Veterinary College. My name is Gregory -Pobedimski, Esquire.” - -My tutor’s beautiful manners pleased my mother immensely. She smiled and -fluttered with the sweet expectation of his next brilliant sally, but my -tutor was waiting for my uncle to respond to his lofty bearing with -something equally lofty, and thought that two fingers would be offered -him with a “h’m—” befitting a general. In consequence, he lost all his -presence of mind and was completely embarrassed when my uncle smiled -cordially and heartily pressed his hand. Murmuring some incoherent -phrases, my tutor coughed and retired. - -“Ha! Ha! Isn’t that beautiful?” laughed my uncle. “Look at him. He has -put on his wings, and is thinking what a clever fellow he is! I like -that, upon my word and honour, I do! What youthful aplomb, what life -there is in those silly wings! And who is this boy?” he asked, suddenly -turning round and catching sight of me. - -“This is my little Andrusha,” said my mother blushing. “The comfort of -my life.” - -I put my foot behind me and bowed deeply. - -“A fine little fellow, a fine little fellow!” murmured my uncle taking -his hand away from my lips, and patting my head. “So your name is -Andrusha? Well, well—yes—upon my word and honour. Do you go to school?” - -My mother began to enumerate my triumphs of learning and behaviour, -adding to them and exaggerating as all mothers do, while I walked at my -uncle’s side and did not cease from bowing deeply according to the -ceremonial we had agreed upon. When my mother began hinting that with my -remarkable attainments it would not be amiss for me to enter the -military academy at the expense of the state, and when, according to our -plan, I should have burst into tears and implored the patronage of my -uncle, that relative suddenly stopped short and threw up his hands in -astonishment. - -“Heavens and earth, who is that?” he exclaimed. - -Down the garden path came Tatiana, the wife of our manager, Theodore -Petrovitch. She was carrying a white starched skirt and a long ironing -board, and as she passed us she blushed and glanced shyly at our guest -from under her long lashes. - -“Worse and worse!” said my uncle under his breath, looking tenderly -after her. “Why, sister, one can’t take a step here without encountering -some surprise, upon my word and honour!” - -Not every one would have called Tatiana beautiful. She was a small, -plump woman of twenty, graceful, black-eyed, and always rosy and sweet, -but in all her face and figure there was not one strong feature, not one -bold line for the eye to rest upon. It was as if in making her Nature -had lacked confidence and inspiration. Tatiana was shy and timid and -well behaved. She glided quietly along, saying little, seldom laughing; -her life was as even and smooth as her face and her neatly brushed hair. -My uncle half-closed his eyes and smiled as he watched her. My mother -looked intently at his smiling face and grew serious. - -“Oh, brother, why have you never married?” she sighed. - -“I have never married because——” - -“Why not?” asked my mother softly. - -“What shall I say? Because things did not turn out that way. When I was -young I worked too hard to have time for enjoying life, and then, when I -wanted to live—behold! I had put fifty years behind me! I was too slow. -However, this is a tedious subject for conversation!” - -My mother and uncle sighed simultaneously, and walked on together while -I stayed behind, and ran to find my tutor in order to share my -impressions with him. Pobedimski was standing in the middle of the -courtyard gazing majestically at the sky. - -“He is obviously an enlightened man,” he said, wagging his head. “I hope -we shall become friends.” - -An hour later my mother came to us. - -“Oh, boys, I’m in terrible trouble!” she began with a sigh. “My brother -has brought a valet with him, you know, and he is not the sort of man, -heaven help him, whom one can put in the hall or the kitchen, he -absolutely must have a room of his own. Look here, my children, couldn’t -you move into the wing with Theodore and give the valet your room?” - -We answered that we should be delighted to do so, for, we thought, life -in the wing would be much freer than in the house under the eyes of my -mother. - -“Yes, I’m terribly worried!” my mother continued. “My brother says he -doesn’t want to have his dinner at noon, but at seven as they do in the -city. I am almost distracted. Why, by seven the dinner in the stove will -be burned to a crisp. The truth is men know nothing about housekeeping, -even if they are very clever. Oh, misery me, I shall have to have two -dinners cooked every day! You must have yours at noon as you always do, -children, and let the old lady wait until seven for her brother.” - -My mother breathed a profound sigh, told me to please my uncle whom God -had brought here especially for my benefit, and ran into the kitchen. -Pobedimski and I moved into the wing that very same day. We were put in -a passage between the hall and the manager’s bedroom. - -In spite of my uncle’s arrival and our change of quarters, our days -continued to trickle by in their usual way, more drowsily and -monotonously than we had expected. We were excused from our lessons -“because of our guest.” Pobedimski, who never read or did anything, now -spent most of his time sitting on his bed absorbed in thought, with his -long nose in the air. Every now and then he would get up, try on his new -suit, sit down again, and continue his meditations. One thing only -disturbed him, and that was the flies, whom he slapped unmercifully with -the palms of his hands. After dinner he would generally “rest,” causing -keen anguish to the whole household by his snores. I played in the -garden from morning till night, or else sat in my room making kites. -During the first two or three weeks we saw little of my uncle. He stayed -in his room and worked for days on end, heeding neither the flies nor -the heat. - -His extraordinary power of sitting as if glued to his desk appeared to -us something in the nature of an inexplicable trick. To lazybones like -ourselves, who did not know the meaning of systematic work, his industry -appeared positively miraculous. Getting up at nine, he would sit down at -his desk, and not move until dinner time. After dinner he would go to -work once more, and work until late at night. Whenever I peeped into his -room through the keyhole I invariably saw the same scene. My uncle would -be sitting at his desk and working. His work consisted of writing with -one hand while turning over the pages of a book with the other, and -strange as it may seem, he constantly wriggled all over, swinging one -foot like a pendulum, whistling and nodding his head in time to the -music he made. His appearance at these times was extraordinarily -frivolous and careless, more as if he were playing at naughts and -crosses than working. Each time I looked in I saw him wearing a dashing -little coat and a dandified necktie, and each time, even through the -keyhole, I could smell a sweet feminine perfume. He emerged from his -room only to dine, and then ate scarcely anything. - -“I can’t understand my brother,” my mother complained. “Every day I have -a turkey or some pigeons killed especially for him, and stew some fruits -for him myself, and yet he drinks a little bouillon and eats a piece of -meat no larger than my finger, after which he leaves the table at once. -If I beg him to eat more he comes back and drinks a little milk. What is -there in milk? It is slop, nothing more! He will die of eating that kind -of food! If I try to persuade him to change his ways, he only laughs and -makes a joke of it! No, children, our fare doesn’t suit him!” - -Our evenings passed much more pleasantly than our days. As a rule the -setting sun and the long shadows falling across the courtyard found -Tatiana, Pobedimski, and me seated on the porch of our wing. We did not -speak until darkness fell—what could we talk about when everything had -already been said? There had been one novelty, my uncle’s arrival, but -that theme had soon become exhausted as well as the others. My tutor -constantly kept his eyes fixed on Tatiana’s face and fetched one deep -sigh after another. At that time I did not understand the meaning of -those sighs, and did not seek to inquire into their cause, but they -explain much to me now. - -When the shadows had merged into thick, black darkness Theodore would -come home from the hunt or the field. This Theodore seemed to me to be a -wild and even fearsome man. He was the son of a Russianised gipsy, and -was swarthy and dark with large black eyes and a tangled curly beard, -and he was never spoken of by our peasants as anything but “the demon.” -There was a great deal of the gipsy in him beside his appearance. For -instance, he never could stay at home, and would vanish for days at a -time, hunting in the forest or roaming in the fields. He was gloomy, -passionate, taciturn, and fearless, and could never be brought to -acknowledge the authority of any one. He spoke gruffly to my mother, -addressed me familiarly as “thou,” and treated Pobedimski’s learning -with contempt, but we forgave him everything, because we considered that -he had a morbidly excitable nature. My mother liked him in spite of his -gipsy ways, for he was ideally honest and hard working. He loved his -Tatiana passionately, in gipsy style, but his love was a thing of gloom, -almost of suffering. He never caressed her in our presence, and only -stared at her fiercely with his mouth all awry. - -On coming back from the fields he would furiously slam down his gun on -the floor of his room, and come out on the porch to take his seat beside -his wife. When he had rested a while he would ask her a few questions -about the housekeeping, and then relapse into silence. - -“Let’s sing!” I used to suggest. - -My tutor would tune his guitar, and in a thick, deaconly voice would -drone: “In Level Valleys.” We would all chime in. My tutor sang bass, -Theodore an almost inaudible tenor, and I contralto in tune with -Tatiana. - -When all the sky was strewn with stars, and the frogs’ voices were -hushed, our supper would be brought to us from the kitchen, and we would -go into the house and fall to. My tutor and the gipsy ate ravenously, -munching so loudly that it was hard to tell whether the noise came from -the bones they were crunching or the cracking of their jaws. Tatiana and -I, on the contrary, could scarcely manage to finish our portions. After -supper our wing of the house would sink into deep slumber. - -One evening at the end of May we were sitting on the porch waiting for -our supper. Suddenly a shadow flitted toward us, and Gundasoff appeared -as if he had sprung from the ground. He stared at us for a long time, -and then waved his hands and laughed gaily. - -“How idyllic!” he cried. “Singing and dreaming under the moon! It is -beautiful, upon my word and honour! May I sit here and dream with you?” - -We silently looked at one another. My uncle sat down on the lowest step, -yawned, and gazed at the sky. Pobedimski, who had long been intending to -have a conversation with this “new person,” was delighted at the -opportunity that now presented itself, and was the first to break the -silence. He had only one subject for learned discussions, and that was -the epizooty. It sometimes happens that, out of a crowd of thousands of -persons with whom one is thrown, one face alone remains fixed in the -memory, and so it was with Pobedimski. Out of all he had learned at the -Veterinary College he remembered only one sentence: - -“Epizooty is the cause of much loss to the peasant farmers. Every -community should join hands with the state in fighting this disease.” - -Before saying this to Gundasoff, my tutor cleared his throat three -times, and excitedly wrapped his cape around him. When my uncle had been -informed concerning the epizooty, he made a noise in his nose that -sounded like a laugh. - -“How charming, upon my word and honour!” he said under his breath, -staring at us as if we were maniacs. “This is indeed life! This is real -nature! Why don’t you say something, Pelagia?” he asked of Tatiana. - -Tatiana grew confused and coughed. - -“Go on talking, friends! Sing! Play! Don’t waste a moment! That rascal -time goes fast and waits for no man. Upon my word and honour, old age -will be upon you before you know it. It will be too late to enjoy life -then; so come, Pelagia, don’t sit there and say nothing!” - -At this point our supper was brought from the kitchen. My uncle went -into the house with us, and ate five curd fritters and a duck’s wing for -company. He kept his eyes fixed on us while he despatched his supper; we -all filled his heart with enthusiasm and emotion. Whatever silliness -that unforgettable tutor of mine was guilty of, whatever Tatiana did, -was lovely and charming in his eyes. When Tatiana quietly took her -knitting into a corner after supper, his eyes never left her little -fingers, and he babbled without a moment’s pause. - -“Friends, you must hurry and begin to enjoy life as fast as you can!” he -said. “For heaven’s sake, don’t sacrifice the present to the future! You -have youth and health and passion now, and the future is deceitful—a -vapour! As soon as your twentieth year knocks at the door, then begin to -live!” - -Tatiana dropped a needle. My uncle jumped up, picked it up, and handed -it to her with a bow, at which I realised for the first time that there -was some one in the world with manners more polished than Pobedimski’s. - -“Yes,” my uncle continued. “Fall in love! Marry! Be silly! Silliness is -much more healthy and natural than our toiling and striving to be -sensible.” - -My uncle talked much and long, and I sat on a trunk in a corner -listening to him and dozing. I felt hurt because he had never once paid -the least attention to me. He left our wing of the house at two o’clock -that night, when I had given up the battle, and sunk into profound -slumber. - -From that time on my uncle came to us every evening. He sang with us and -sat with us each night until two o’clock, chatting without end always of -the same thing. He ceased his evening and nocturnal labours, and by the -end of July, when the privy councillor had learned to eat my mother’s -turkeys and stewed fruits, his daytime toil was also abandoned. My uncle -had torn himself away from his desk and had entered into “real life.” By -day he walked about the garden whistling and keeping the workmen from -their work by making them tell him stories. If he caught sight of -Tatiana he would run up to her, and, if she were carrying anything, -would offer to carry it for her, which always embarrassed her -dreadfully. - -The farther summer advanced toward autumn the more absent-minded and -frivolous and lively my uncle became. Pobedimski lost all his illusions -about him. - -“He is too one-sided,” he used to say. “Nothing about him shows that he -stands on the highest rung of the official hierarchic ladder. He can’t -even talk properly. He says ‘upon my word and honour’ after every word. -No, I don’t like him!” - -A distinct change came over my tutor and Theodore from the time that my -uncle began to visit us in our wing. Theodore stopped hunting and began -to come home early. He grew more silent and stared more ferociously than -ever at his wife. My tutor stopped talking of the epizooty in my uncle’s -presence, and now frowned and even smiled derisively at sight of him. - -“Here comes our little hop o’my thumb!” he once growled, seeing my uncle -coming toward our part of the house. - -This change in the behaviour of both men I explained by the theory that -Gundasoff had hurt their feelings. My absent-minded uncle always -confused their names, and on the day of his departure had not learned -which was my tutor, and which was Tatiana’s husband. Tatiana herself he -sometimes called Nastasia, sometimes Pelagia, sometimes Evdokia. Full of -affectionate enthusiasm as he was for us all, he laughed at us and -treated us as if we had been children. All this, of course, might easily -have offended the young men. But, as I now see, this was not a question -of lacerated feelings; sentiments much more delicate were involved. - -One night, I remember, I was sitting on the trunk contending with my -longing for sleep. A heavy glue seemed to have fallen on my eyelids, and -my body was drooping sideways, exhausted by a long day’s playing, but I -tried to conquer my sleepiness, for I wanted to see what was going on. -It was nearly midnight. Gentle, rosy, and meek as ever, Tatiana was -sitting at a little table sewing a shirt for her husband. From one -corner of the room Theodore was staring sternly and gloomily at her, in -another corner sat Pobedimski snorting angrily, his head half buried in -his high coat collar. My uncle was walking up and down plunged in -thought. Silence reigned, broken only by the rustling of the linen in -Tatiana’s hands. Suddenly my uncle stopped in front of Tatiana, and -said: - -“Oh, you are all so young and fresh and good, and you live so peacefully -in this quiet place that I envy you! I have grown so fond of this life -of yours that, upon my honour, my heart aches when I remember that some -day I shall have to leave it all.” - -Sleep closed my eyes and I heard no more. I was awakened by a bang, and -saw my uncle standing in front of Tatiana, looking at her with emotion. -His cheeks were burning. - -“My life is over and I have not lived,” he was saying. “Your young face -reminds me of my lost youth, and I should be happy to sit here looking -at you until I died. I should like to take you with me to St. -Petersburg.” - -“Why?” demanded Theodore in a hoarse voice. - -“I should like to put you under a glass case on my desk; I should -delight in contemplating you, and showing you to my friends. Do you -know, Pelagia, that we don’t have people like you where I live? We have -wealth and fame and sometimes beauty, but we have none of this natural -life and this wholesome peacefulness——” - -My uncle sat down in front of Tatiana and took her hand. - -“So you won’t come with me to St. Petersburg?” he laughed. “Then at -least let me take this hand away with me, this lovely little hand! You -won’t? Very well then, little miser, at least allow me to kiss it!” - -I heard a chair crack. Theodore sprang to his feet and strode toward his -wife with a heavy, measured tread. His face was ashy grey and quivering. -He raised his arm and brought his fist down on the table with all his -might, saying in a muffled voice: - -“I won’t allow it!” - -At the same moment Pobedimski jumped out of his chair, and with a face -as pale and angry as the other’s, he also advanced toward Tatiana and -banged the table with his fist. - -“I—I won’t allow it!” he cried. - -“What? What’s the matter,” asked my uncle in astonishment. - -“I won’t allow it!” Theodore repeated, with another blow on the table. - -My uncle jumped up and abjectly blinked his eyes. He wanted to say -something, but surprise and fright held him tongue-tied. He gave an -embarrassed smile and pattered out of the room with short, senile steps, -leaving his hat behind him. When my startled mother came into the room a -few moments later, Theodore and Pobedimski were still banging the table -with their fists like blacksmiths hammering an anvil, and shouting: - -“I won’t allow it!” - -“What has happened here?” demanded my mother. “Why has my brother -fainted? What is the matter?” - -When she saw the frightened Tatiana and her angry husband, my mother -must have guessed what had been going on, for she sighed and shook her -head. - -“Come, come, stop thumping the table!” she commanded. “Stop, Theodore! -And what are you hammering for, Gregory Pobedimski? What business is -this of yours?” - -Pobedimski recollected himself and blushed. Theodore glared intently -first at him and then at his wife, and began striding up and down the -room. After my mother had gone, I saw something that for a long time -after I took to be a dream. I saw Theodore seize my tutor, raise him in -the air, and fling him out of the door. - -When I awoke next morning my tutor’s bed was empty. To my inquiries, my -nurse replied in a whisper that he had been taken to the hospital early -that morning, to be treated for a broken arm. Saddened by this news, and -recalling yesterday’s scandal, I went out into the courtyard. The day -was overcast. The sky was covered with storm-clouds, and a strong wind -was blowing across the earth, whirling before it dust, feathers, and -scraps of paper. One could feel the approaching rain, and bad humour was -obvious in both men and beasts. When I went back to the house I was told -to walk lightly, and not to make a noise because my mother was ill in -bed with a headache. What could I do? I went out of the front gate, and, -sitting down on a bench, tried to make out the meaning of what I had -seen the night before. The road from our gate wound past a blacksmith’s -shop and around a damp meadow, turning at last into the main highway. I -sat and looked at the telegraph poles around which the dust was -whirling, and at the sleepy birds sitting on the wires until, suddenly, -such ennui overwhelmed me that I burst into tears. - -A dusty char-à-banc came along the highway filled with townspeople who -were probably on a pilgrimage to some shrine. The char-à-banc was -scarcely out of sight before a light victoria drawn by a pair of horses -appeared. Standing up in the carriage and holding on to the coachman’s -belt was the rural policeman. To my intense surprise the victoria turned -into our road and rolled past me through the gate. While I was still -seeking an answer to the riddle of the policeman’s appearance at our -farm, a troika trotted up harnessed to a landau, and in the landau sat -the captain of police pointing out our gate to his coachman. - -“What does this mean?” I asked myself. “Pobedimski must have complained -to them about Theodore, and they have come to fetch him away to prison.” - -But the problem was not so easily solved. The policeman and the police -captain were evidently but the forerunners of some one more important -still, for five minutes had scarcely elapsed before a coach drove into -our gate. It flashed by me so quickly that, as I glanced in at the -window, I could only catch a glimpse of a red beard. - -Lost in conjectures and foreseeing some disaster, I ran into the house. -The first person I met in the hall was my mother. Her face was pale, and -she was staring with horror at a door from behind which came the sound -of men’s voices. Some guests had arrived unexpectedly and at the very -height of her headache. - -“Who is here, mamma?” I asked. - -“Sister!” we heard my uncle call. “Do give the governor and the rest of -us a bite to eat!” - -“That’s easier said than done!” whispered my mother, collapsing with -horror. “What can I give them at such short notice? I shall be disgraced -in my declining years!” - -My mother clasped her head with her hands and hurried into the kitchen. -The unexpected arrival of the governor had turned the whole farm upside -down. A cruel holocaust immediately began to take place. Ten hens were -killed and five turkeys and eight ducks, and in the hurly-burly the old -gander was beheaded, the ancestor of all our flock and the favourite of -my mother. The coachman and the cook seemed to have gone mad, and -frantically slaughtered every bird they could lay hands upon without -regard to its age or breed. A pair of my precious turtle doves, as dear -to me as the gander was to my mother, were sacrified to make a gravy. It -was long before I forgave the governor their death. - -That evening, when the governor and his suite had dined until they could -eat no more, and had climbed into their carriages and driven away, I -went into the house to look at the remains of the feast. Glancing into -the drawing-room from the hall, I saw my mother there with my uncle. My -uncle was shrugging his shoulders, and nervously pacing round and round -the room with his hands behind his back. My mother looked exhausted and -very much thinner. She was sitting on the sofa following my uncle’s -movements with eyes of suffering. - -“I beg your pardon, sister, but one cannot behave like that! I -introduced the governor to you, and you did not even shake hands with -him! You quite embarrassed the poor man. Yes, it was most unseemly. -Simplicity is all very pretty, but even simplicity must not be carried -too far, upon my word and honour——And then that dinner! How could you -serve a dinner like that? What was that dish-rag you gave us for the -fourth course?” - -“That was duck with apple sauce,” answered my mother faintly. - -“Duck! Forgive me, sister, but—but—I have an attack of indigestion! I’m -ill!” - -My uncle pulled a sour, tearful face and continued. - -“The devil the governor had to come here to see me! Much I wanted a -visit from him! Ouch—oh, my indigestion! I—I can’t work and I can’t -sleep. I’m completely run down. I don’t see how in the world you can -exist here in this wilderness without anything to do! There now, the -pain is commencing in the pit of my stomach!” - -My uncle knit his brows and walked up and down more swiftly than ever. - -“Brother,” asked my mother softly. “How much does it cost to go abroad?” - -“Three thousand roubles at least!” wailed my uncle. “I should certainly -go, but where can I get the money? I haven’t a copeck! Ouch, what a -pain!” - -My uncle stopped in his walk and gazed with anguish through the window -at the grey, cloudy sky. - -Silence fell. My mother fixed her eyes for a long time on the icon as if -she were debating something, and then burst into tears and exclaimed: - -“I’ll let you have three thousand, brother!” - -Three days later the majestic trunks were sent to the station, and -behind them rolled the carriage containing the privy councillor. He had -wept as he bade farewell to my mother, and had held her hand to his lips -for a long time. As he climbed into the carriage his face had shone with -childish joy. Radiant and happy, he had settled himself more comfortably -in his seat, kissed his hand to my weeping mother, and suddenly and -unexpectedly turned his regard to me. The utmost astonishment had -appeared on his features—— - -“What boy is this?” he had asked. - -As my mother had always assured me that God had sent my uncle to us for -my especial benefit, this question gave her quite a turn. But I was not -thinking about the question. As I looked at my uncle’s happy face I -felt, for some reason, very sorry for him. I could not endure it, and -jumped up into the carriage to embrace this man, so frivolous, so weak, -and so human. As I looked into his eyes I wanted to say something -pleasant, so I asked him: - -“Uncle, were you ever in a battle?” - -“Oh, my precious boy!” laughed my uncle kissing me. “My precious boy, -upon my word and honour! How natural and true to life it all is, upon my -word and honour!” - -The carriage moved away. I followed it with my eyes, and long after it -had disappeared I still heard ringing in my ears that farewell, “Upon my -word and honour!” - - - ROTHSCHILD’S FIDDLE - -It was a tiny town, worse than a village, inhabited chiefly by old -people who so seldom died that it was really vexatious. Very few coffins -were needed for the hospital and the jail; in a word, business was bad. -If Jacob Ivanoff had been a maker of coffins in the county town, he -would probably have owned a house of his own by now, and would have been -called Mr. Ivanoff, but here in this little place he was simply called -Jacob, and for some reason his nickname was Bronze. He lived as poorly -as any common peasant in a little old hut of one room, in which he and -Martha, and the stove, and a double bed, and the coffins, and his -joiner’s bench, and all the necessities of housekeeping were stowed -away. - -The coffins made by Jacob were serviceable and strong. For the peasants -and townsfolk he made them to fit himself and never went wrong, for, -although he was seventy years old, there was no man, not even in the -prison, any taller or stouter than he was. For the gentry and for women -he made them to measure, using an iron yardstick for the purpose. He was -always very reluctant to take orders for children’s coffins, and made -them contemptuously without taking any measurements at all, always -saying when he was paid for them: - -“The fact is, I don’t like to be bothered with trifles.” - -Beside what he received for his work as a joiner, he added a little to -his income by playing the violin. There was a Jewish orchestra in the -town that played for weddings, led by the tinsmith Moses Shakess, who -took more than half of its earnings for himself. As Jacob played the -fiddle extremely well, especially Russian songs, Shakess used sometimes -to invite him to play in his orchestra for the sum of fifty copecks a -day, not including the presents he might receive from the guests. -Whenever Bronze took his seat in the orchestra, the first thing that -happened to him was that his face grew red, and the perspiration -streamed from it, for the air was always hot, and reeking of garlic to -the point of suffocation. Then his fiddle would begin to moan, and a -double bass would croak hoarsely into his right ear, and a flute would -weep into his left. This flute was played by a gaunt, red-bearded Jew -with a network of red and blue veins on his face, who bore the name of a -famous rich man, Rothschild. This confounded Jew always contrived to -play even the merriest tunes sadly. For no obvious reason Jacob little -by little began to conceive a feeling of hatred and contempt for all -Jews, and especially for Rothschild. He quarrelled with him and abused -him in ugly language, and once even tried to beat him, but Rothschild -took offence at this, and cried with a fierce look: - -“If I had not always respected you for your music, I should have thrown -you out of the window long ago!” - -Then he burst into tears. So after that Bronze was not often invited to -play in the orchestra, and was only called upon in cases of dire -necessity, when one of the Jews was missing. - -Jacob was never in a good humour, because he always had to endure the -most terrible losses. For instance, it was a sin to work on a Sunday or -a holiday, and Monday was always a bad day, so in that way there were -about two hundred days a year on which he was compelled to sit with his -hands folded in his lap. That was a great loss to him. If any one in -town had a wedding without music, or if Shakess did not ask him to play, -there was another loss. The police inspector had lain ill with -consumption for two years while Jacob impatiently waited for him to die, -and then had gone to take a cure in the city and had died there, which -of course had meant another loss of at least ten roubles, as the coffin -would have been an expensive one lined with brocade. - -The thought of his losses worried Jacob at night more than at any other -time, so he used to lay his fiddle at his side on the bed, and when -those worries came trooping into his brain he would touch the strings, -and the fiddle would give out a sound in the darkness, and Jacob’s heart -would feel lighter. - -Last year on the sixth of May, Martha suddenly fell ill. The old woman -breathed with difficulty, staggered in her walk, and felt terribly -thirsty. Nevertheless, she got up that morning, lit the stove, and even -went for the water. When evening came she went to bed. Jacob played his -fiddle all day. When it grew quite dark, because he had nothing better -to do, he took the book in which he kept an account of his losses, and -began adding up the total for the year. They amounted to more than a -thousand roubles. He was so shaken by this discovery, that he threw the -counting board on the floor and trampled it under foot. Then he picked -it up again and rattled it once more for a long time, heaving as he did -so sighs both deep and long. His face grew purple, and perspiration -dripped from his brow. He was thinking that if those thousand roubles he -had lost had been in the bank then, he would have had at least forty -roubles interest by the end of the year. So those forty roubles were -still another loss! In a word, wherever he turned he found losses and -nothing but losses. - -“Jacob!” cried Martha unexpectedly, “I am going to die!” - -He looked round at his wife. Her face was flushed with fever and looked -unusually joyful and bright. Bronze was troubled, for he had been -accustomed to seeing her pale and timid and unhappy. It seemed to him -that she was actually dead, and glad to have left this hut, and the -coffins, and Jacob at last. She was staring at the ceiling, with her -lips moving as if she saw her deliverer Death approaching and were -whispering with him. - -The dawn was just breaking and the eastern sky was glowing with a faint -radiance. As he stared at the old woman it somehow seemed to Jacob that -he had never once spoken a tender word to her or pitied her; that he had -never thought of buying her a kerchief or of bringing her back some -sweetmeats from a wedding. On the contrary, he had shouted at her and -abused her for his losses, and had shaken his fist at her. It was true -he had never beaten her, but he had frightened her no less, and she had -been paralysed with fear every time he had scolded her. Yes, and he had -not allowed her to drink tea because his losses were heavy enough as it -was, so she had had to be content with hot water. Now he understood why -her face looked so strangely happy, and horror overwhelmed him. - -As soon as it was light he borrowed a horse from a neighbour and took -Martha to the hospital. As there were not many patients, he had not to -wait very long—only about three hours. To his great satisfaction it was -not the doctor who was receiving the sick that day, but his assistant, -Maksim Nicolaitch, an old man of whom it was said that although he -quarrelled and drank, he knew more than the doctor did. - -“Good morning, your Honour,” said Jacob leading his old woman into the -office. “Excuse us for intruding upon you with our trifling affairs. As -you see, this subject has fallen ill. My life’s friend, if you will -allow me to use the expression——” - -Knitting his grey eyebrows and stroking his whiskers, the doctor’s -assistant fixed his eyes on the old woman. She was sitting all in a heap -on a low stool, and with her thin, long-nosed face and her open mouth, -she looked like a thirsty bird. - -“Well, well—yes—” said the doctor slowly, heaving a sigh. “This is a -case of influenza and possibly fever; there is typhoid in town. What’s -to be done? The old woman has lived her span of years, thank God. How -old is she?” - -“She lacks one year of being seventy, your Honour.” - -“Well, well, she has lived long. There must come an end to everything.” - -“You are certainly right, your Honour,” said Jacob, smiling out of -politeness. “And we thank you sincerely for your kindness, but allow me -to suggest to you that even an insect dislikes to die!” - -“Never mind if it does!” answered the doctor, as if the life or death of -the old woman lay in his hands. “I’ll tell you what you must do, my good -man. Put a cold bandage around her head, and give her two of these -powders a day. Now then, good-by! Bon jour!” - -Jacob saw by the expression on the doctor’s face that it was too late -now for powders. He realised clearly that Martha must die very soon, if -not to-day, then to-morrow. He touched the doctor’s elbow gently, -blinked, and whispered: - -“She ought to be cupped, doctor!” - -“I haven’t time, I haven’t time, my good man. Take your old woman, and -go in God’s name. Good-by.” - -“Please, please, cup her, doctor!” begged Jacob. “You know yourself that -if she had a pain in her stomach, powders and drops would do her good, -but she has a cold! The first thing to do when one catches cold is to -let some blood, doctor!” - -But the doctor had already sent for the next patient, and a woman -leading a little boy came into the room. - -“Go along, go along!” he cried to Jacob, frowning. “It’s no use making a -fuss!” - -“Then at least put some leeches on her! Let me pray to God for you for -the rest of my life!” - -The doctor’s temper flared up and he shouted: - -“Don’t say another word to me, blockhead!” - -Jacob lost his temper, too, and flushed hotly, but he said nothing and, -silently taking Martha’s arm, led her out of the office. Only when they -were once more seated in their wagon did he look fiercely and mockingly -at the hospital and say: - -“They’re a pretty lot in there, they are! That doctor would have cupped -a rich man, but he even begrudged a poor one a leech. The pig!” - -When they returned to the hut, Martha stood for nearly ten minutes -supporting herself by the stove. She felt that if she lay down Jacob -would begin to talk to her about his losses, and would scold her for -lying down and not wanting to work. Jacob contemplated her sadly, -thinking that to-morrow was St. John the Baptist’s day, and day after -to-morrow was St. Nicholas the Wonder Worker’s day, and that the -following day would be Sunday, and the day after that would be Monday, a -bad day for work. So he would not be able to work for four days, and as -Martha would probably die on one of these days, the coffin would have to -be made at once. He took his iron yardstick in hand, went up to the old -woman, and measured her. Then she lay down, and he crossed himself and -went to work on the coffin. - -When the task was completed Bronze put on his spectacles and wrote in -his book: - -“To 1 coffin for Martha Ivanoff—2 roubles, 40 copecks.” - -He sighed. All day the old woman lay silent with closed eyes, but toward -evening, when the daylight began to fade, she suddenly called the old -man to her side. - -“Do you remember, Jacob?” she asked. “Do you remember how fifty years -ago God gave us a little baby with curly golden hair? Do you remember -how you and I used to sit on the bank of the river and sing songs under -the willow tree?” Then with a bitter smile she added: “The baby died.” - -Jacob racked his brains, but for the life of him he could not recall the -child or the willow tree. - -“You are dreaming,” he said. - -The priest came and administered the Sacrament and Extreme Unction. Then -Martha began muttering unintelligibly, and toward morning she died. - -The neighbouring old women washed her and dressed her, and laid her in -her coffin. To avoid paying the deacon, Jacob read the psalms over her -himself, and her grave cost him nothing, as the watchman of the cemetery -was his cousin. Four peasants carried the coffin to the grave, not for -money but for love. The old women, the beggars, and two village idiots -followed the body, and the people whom they passed on the way crossed -themselves devoutly. Jacob was very glad that everything had passed off -so nicely and decently and cheaply, without giving offence to any one. -As he said farewell to Martha for the last time he touched the coffin -with his hand and thought: - -“That’s a fine job!” - -But walking homeward from the cemetery he was seized with great -distress. He felt ill, his breath was burning hot, his legs grew weak, -and he longed for a drink. Beside this, a thousand thoughts came -crowding into his head. He remembered again that he had never once -pitied Martha or said a tender word to her. The fifty years of their -life together lay stretched far, far behind him, and somehow, during all -that time, he had never once thought about her at all or noticed her -more than if she had been a dog or a cat. And yet she had lit the stove -every day, and had cooked and baked and fetched water and chopped wood, -and when he had come home drunk from a wedding she had hung his fiddle -reverently on a nail each time, and had silently put him to bed with a -timid, anxious look on her face. - -But here came Rothschild toward him, bowing and scraping and smiling. - -“I have been looking for you, uncle!” he said. “Moses Shakess presents -his compliments and wants you to go to him at once.” - -Jacob did not feel in a mood to do anything. He wanted to cry. - -“Leave me alone!” he exclaimed, and walked on. - -“Oh, how can you say that?” cried Rothschild, running beside him in -alarm. “Moses will be very angry. He wants you to come at once!” - -Jacob was disgusted by the panting of the Jew, by his blinking eyes, and -by the quantities of reddish freckles on his face. He looked with -aversion at his long green coat and at the whole of his frail, delicate -figure. - -“What do you mean by pestering me, garlic?” he shouted. “Get away!” - -The Jew grew angry and shouted back: - -“Don’t yell at me like that or I’ll send you flying over that fence!” - -“Get out of my sight!” bellowed Jacob, shaking his fist at him. “There’s -no living in the same town with swine like you!” - -Rothschild was petrified with terror. He sank to the ground and waved -his hands over his head as if to protect himself from falling blows; -then he jumped up and ran away as fast as his legs could carry him. As -he ran he leaped and waved his arms, and his long, gaunt back could be -seen quivering. The little boys were delighted at what had happened, and -ran after him screaming: “Sheeny! Sheeny!” The dogs also joined barking -in the chase. Somebody laughed and then whistled, at which the dogs -barked louder and more vigorously than ever. - -Then one of them must have bitten Rothschild, for a piteous, despairing -scream rent the air. - -Jacob walked across the common to the edge of the town without knowing -where he was going, and the little boys shouted after him. “There goes -old man Bronze! There goes old man Bronze!” He found himself by the -river where the snipe were darting about with shrill cries, and the -ducks were quacking and swimming to and fro. The sun was shining -fiercely and the water was sparkling so brightly that it was painful to -look at. Jacob struck into a path that led along the river bank. He came -to a stout, red-cheeked woman just leaving a bath-house. “Aha, you -otter, you!” he thought. Not far from the bath-house some little boys -were fishing for crabs with pieces of meat. When they saw Jacob they -shouted mischievously: “Old man Bronze! Old man Bronze!” But there -before him stood an ancient, spreading willow tree with a massive trunk, -and a crow’s nest among its branches. Suddenly there flashed across -Jacob’s memory with all the vividness of life a little child with golden -curls, and the willow of which Martha had spoken. Yes, this was the same -tree, so green and peaceful and sad. How old it had grown, poor thing! - -He sat down at its foot and thought of the past. On the opposite shore, -where that meadow now was, there had stood in those days a wood of tall -birch-trees, and that bare hill on the horizon yonder had been covered -with the blue bloom of an ancient pine forest. And sailboats had plied -the river then, but now all lay smooth and still, and only one little -birch-tree was left on the opposite bank, a graceful young thing, like a -girl, while on the river there swam only ducks and geese. It was hard to -believe that boats had once sailed there. It even seemed to him that -there were fewer geese now than there had been. Jacob shut his eyes, and -one by one white geese came flying toward him, an endless flock. - -He was puzzled to know why he had never once been down to the river -during the last forty or fifty years of his life, or, if he had been -there, why he had never paid any attention to it. The stream was fine -and large; he might have fished in it and sold the fish to the merchants -and the government officials and the restaurant keeper at the station, -and put the money in the bank. He might have rowed in a boat from farm -to farm and played on his fiddle. People of every rank would have paid -him money to hear him. He might have tried to run a boat on the river, -that would have been better than making coffins. Finally, he might have -raised geese, and killed them, and sent them to Moscow in the winter. -Why, the down alone would have brought him ten roubles a year! But he -had missed all these chances and had done nothing. What losses were -here! Ah, what terrible losses! And, oh, if he had only done all these -things at the same time! If he had only fished, and played the fiddle, -and sailed a boat, and raised geese, what capital he would have had by -now! But he had not even dreamed of doing all this; his life had gone by -without profit or pleasure. It had been lost for a song. Nothing was -left ahead; behind lay only losses, and such terrible losses that he -shuddered to think of them. But why shouldn’t men live so as to avoid -all this waste and these losses? Why, oh, why, should those birch and -pine forests have been felled? Why should those meadows be lying so -deserted? Why did people always do exactly what they ought not to do? -Why had Jacob scolded and growled and clenched his fists and hurt his -wife’s feelings all his life? Why, oh why, had he frightened and -insulted that Jew just now? Why did people in general always interfere -with one another? What losses resulted from this! What terrible losses! -If it were not for envy and anger they would get great profit from one -another. - -All that evening and night Jacob dreamed of the child, of the willow -tree, of the fish and the geese, of Martha with her profile like a -thirsty bird, and of Rothschild’s pale, piteous mien. Queer faces seemed -to be moving toward him from all sides, muttering to him about his -losses. He tossed from side to side, and got up five times during the -night to play his fiddle. - -He rose with difficulty next morning, and walked to the hospital. The -same doctor’s assistant ordered him to put cold bandages on his head, -and gave him little powders to take; by his expression and the tone of -his voice Jacob knew that the state of affairs was bad, and that no -powders could save him now. As he walked home he reflected that one good -thing would result from his death: he would no longer have to eat and -drink and pay taxes, neither would he offend people any more, and, as a -man lies in his grave for hundreds of thousands of years, the sum of his -profits would be immense. So, life to a man was a loss—death, a gain. Of -course this reasoning was correct, but it was also distressingly sad. -Why should the world be so strangely arranged that a man’s life which -was only given to him once must pass without profit? - -He was not sorry then that he was going to die, but when he reached -home, and saw his fiddle, his heart ached, and he regretted it deeply. -He would not be able to take his fiddle with him into the grave, and now -it would be left an orphan, and its fate would be that of the birch -grove and the pine forest. Everything in the world had been lost, and -would always be lost for ever. Jacob went out and sat on the threshold -of his hut, clasping his fiddle to his breast. And as he thought of his -life so full of waste and losses he began playing without knowing how -piteous and touching his music was, and the tears streamed down his -cheeks. And the more he thought the more sorrowfully sang his violin. - -The latch clicked and Rothschild came in through the garden-gate, and -walked boldly half-way across the garden. Then he suddenly stopped, -crouched down, and, probably from fear, began making signs with his -hands as if he were trying to show on his fingers what time it was. - -“Come on, don’t be afraid!” said Jacob gently, beckoning him to advance. -“Come on!” - -With many mistrustful and fearful glances Rothschild went slowly up to -Jacob, and stopped about two yards away. - -“Please don’t beat me!” he said with a ducking bow. “Moses Shakess has -sent me to you again. ‘Don’t be afraid,’ he said, ‘go to Jacob,’ says -he, ‘and say that we can’t possibly manage without him.’ There is a -wedding next Thursday. Ye-es, sir. Mr. Shapovaloff is marrying his -daughter to a very fine man. It will be an expensive wedding, ai, ai!” -added the Jew with a wink. - -“I can’t go” said Jacob breathing hard. “I’m ill, brother.” - -And he began to play again, and the tears gushed out of his eyes over -his fiddle. Rothschild listened intently with his head turned away and -his arms folded on his breast. The startled, irresolute look on his face -gradually gave way to one of suffering and grief. He cast up his eyes as -if in an ecstasy of agony and murmured: “Ou—ouch!” And the tears began -to trickle slowly down his cheeks, and to drip over his green coat. - -All day Jacob lay and suffered. When the priest came in the evening to -administer the Sacrament he asked him if he could not think of any -particular sin. - -Struggling with his fading memories, Jacob recalled once more Martha’s -sad face, and the despairing cry of the Jew when the dog had bitten him. -He murmured almost inaudibly: - -“Give my fiddle to Rothschild.” - -“It shall be done,” answered the priest. - -So it happened that every one in the little town began asking: - -“Where did Rothschild get that good fiddle? Did he buy it or steal it or -get it out of a pawnshop?” - -Rothschild has long since abandoned his flute, and now only plays on the -violin. The same mournful notes flow from under his bow that used to -come from his flute, and when he tries to repeat what Jacob played as he -sat on the threshold of his hut, the result is an air so plaintive and -sad that every one who hears him weeps, and he himself at last raises -his eyes and murmurs: “Ou—ouch!” And this new song has so delighted the -town that the merchants and government officials vie with each other in -getting Rothschild to come to their houses, and sometimes make him play -it ten times in succession. - - - A HORSEY NAME - -Major-General Buldeeff was suffering from toothache. He had rinsed his -mouth with vodka and cognac; applied tobacco ashes, opium, turpentine, -and kerosene to the aching tooth; rubbed his cheek with iodine, and put -cotton wool soaked with alcohol into his ears, but all these remedies -had either failed to relieve him or else had made him sick. The dentist -was sent for. He picked at his tooth and prescribed quinine, but this -did not help the general. Buldeeff met the suggestion that the tooth -should be pulled with refusal. Every one in the house, his wife, his -children, the servants, even Petka, the scullery boy, suggested some -remedy. Among others his steward, Ivan Evceitch came to him, and advised -him to try a conjuror. - -“Your Excellency,” said he, “ten years ago an exciseman lived in this -county whose name was Jacob. He was a first-class conjuror for the -toothache. He used simply to turn toward the window and spit, and the -pain would go in a minute. That was his gift.” - -“Where is he now?” - -“After he was dismissed from the revenue service, he went to live in -Saratoff with his mother-in-law. He makes his living off nothing but -teeth now. If any one has a toothache, he sends for him to cure it. The -Saratoff people have him come to their houses, but he cures people in -other cities by telegraph. Send him a telegram, your Excellency, say: -‘I, God’s servant Alexei, have the toothache. I want you to cure me.’ -You can send him his fee by mail.” - -“Stuff and nonsense! Humbug!” - -“Just try it, your Excellency! He is fond of vodka, it is true, and is -living with some German woman instead of his wife, and he uses terrible -language, but he is a remarkable wonder worker.” - -“Do send him a telegram, Alexei!” begged the general’s wife. “You don’t -believe in conjuring, I know, but I have tried it. Why not send him the -message, even if you don’t believe it will do you any good? It can’t -kill you!” - -“Very well, then,” Buldeeff consented. “I would willingly send a -telegram to the devil, let alone to an exciseman. Ouch! I can’t stand -this! Come, where does your conjuror live? What is his name?” - -The general sat down at his desk, and took up a pen. - -“He is known to every dog in Saratoff,” said the steward. “Just address -the telegram to Mr. Jacob—Jacob——” - -“Well?” - -“Jacob—Jacob—what? I can’t remember his surname. Jacob—darn it, what is -his surname? I thought of it as I was coming along. Wait a minute!” - -Ivan raised his eyes to the ceiling, and moved his lips. Buldeeff and -his wife waited impatiently for him to remember the name. - -“Well then, what is it? Think harder.” - -“Just a minute! Jacob—Jacob—I can’t remember it! It’s a common name too, -something to do with a horse. Is it Mayres? No it isn’t Mayres—Wait a -bit, is it Colt? No, it isn’t Colt. I know perfectly well it’s a horsey -name, but it has absolutely gone out of my head!” - -“It isn’t Filley?” - -“No, no—wait a jiffy. Maresfield, Maresden—Farrier—Harrier——” - -“That’s a doggy name, not a horsey one. Is it Foley?” - -“No, no, it isn’t Foley. Just a second—Horseman—Horsey—Hackney. No, it -isn’t any of those.” - -“Then how am I to send that telegram? Think a little harder!” - -“One moment! Carter—Coltsford—Shafter——” - -“Shaftsbury?” suggested the general’s wife. - -“No, no—Wheeler—no, that isn’t it! I’ve forgotten it!” - -“Then why on earth did you come pestering me with your advice, if you -couldn’t remember the man’s name?” stormed the general. “Get out of -here!” - -Ivan went slowly out, and the general clutched his cheek, and went -rushing through the house. - -“Ouch! Oh Lord!” he howled. “Oh, mother! Ouch! I’m as blind as a bat!” - -The steward went into the garden, and, raising his eyes to heaven, tried -to remember the exciseman’s name. - -“Hunt—Hunter—Huntley. No, that’s wrong! Cobb—Cobden—Dobbins—Maresly——” - -Shortly afterward, the steward was again summoned by his master. - -“Well, have you thought of it?” asked the general. - -“No, not yet, your Excellency!” - -“Is it Barnes?” asked the general. “Is it Palfrey, by any chance?” - -Every one in the house began madly to invent names. Horses of every -possible age, breed, and sex were considered; their names, hoofs, and -harness were all thought of. People were frantically walking up and down -in the house, garden, servants’ quarters, and kitchen, all scratching -their heads, and searching for the right name. - -Suddenly the steward was sent for again. - -“Is it Herder?” they asked him. “Hocker? Hyde? Groome?” - -“No, no, no,” answered Ivan, and, casting up his eyes, he went on -thinking aloud. - -“Steed—Charger—Horsely—Harness——” - -“Papa!” cried a voice from the nursery. “Tracey! Bitter!” - -The whole farm was now in an uproar. The impatient, agonised general -promised five roubles to any one who would think of the right name, and -a perfect mob began to follow Ivan Evceitch about. - -“Bayley!” They cried to him. “Trotter! Hackett!” - -Evening came at last, and still the name had not been found. The -household went to bed without sending the telegram. - -The general did not sleep a wink, but walked, groaning, up and down his -room. At three o’clock in the morning he went out into the yard and -tapped at the steward’s window. - -“It isn’t Gelder, is it?” he asked almost in tears. - -“No, not Gelder, your Excellency,” answered Ivan, sighing -apologetically. - -“Perhaps it isn’t a horsey name at all? Perhaps it is something entirely -different?” - -“No, no, upon my word, it’s a horsey name, your Excellency, I remember -that perfectly.” - -“What an abominable memory you have, brother! That name is worth more -than anything on earth to me now! I’m in agony!” - -Next morning the general sent for the dentist again. - -“I’ll have it out!” he cried. “I can’t stand this any longer!” - -The dentist came and pulled out the aching tooth. The pain at once -subsided, and the general grew quieter. Having done his work and -received his fee, the dentist climbed into his gig, and drove away. In -the field outside the front gate he met Ivan. The steward was standing -by the roadside plunged in thought, with his eyes fixed on the ground at -his feet. Judging from the deep wrinkles that furrowed his brow, he was -painfully racking his brains over something, and was muttering to -himself: - -“Dunn—Sadler—Buckle—Coachman——” - -“Hello, Ivan!” cried the doctor driving up. “Won’t you sell me a load of -hay? I have been buying mine from the peasants lately, but it’s no -good.” - -Ivan glared dully at the doctor, smiled vaguely, and without answering a -word threw up his arms, and rushed toward the house as if a mad dog were -after him. - -“I’ve thought of the name, your Excellency!” he shrieked with delight, -bursting into the general’s study. “I’ve thought of it, thanks to the -doctor. Hayes! Hayes is the exciseman’s name! Hayes, your Honour! Send a -telegram to Hayes!” - -“Slow-coach!” said the general contemptuously, snapping his fingers at -him. “I don’t need your horsey name now! Slow-coach!” - - - THE PETCHENEG[1] - -One hot summer’s day Ivan Jmukin was returning from town to his farm in -southern Russia. Jmukin was a retired old Cossack officer, who had -served in the Caucasus, and had once been lusty and strong, but he was -an old man now, shrivelled and bent, with bushy eyebrows and a long, -greenish-grey moustache. He had been fasting in town, and had made his -will, for it was only two weeks since he had had a slight stroke of -paralysis, and now, sitting in the train, he was full of deep, gloomy -thoughts of his approaching death, of the vanity of life, and of the -transient quality of all earthly things. At Provalye, one of the -stations on the Don railway, a fair-haired, middle-aged man, carrying a -worn portfolio under his arm, entered the compartment and sat down -opposite the old Cossack. They began talking together. - -Footnote 1: - - Petchenegs, wild tribesmen of the Caucasus. - -“No,” said Jmukin gazing pensively out of the window. “It is never too -late to marry. I myself was forty-eight when I married, and every one -said it was too late, but it has turned out to be neither too late nor -too early. Still, it is better never to marry at all. Every one soon -gets tired of a wife, though not every one will tell you the truth, -because, you know, people are ashamed of their family troubles, and try -to conceal them. It is often ‘Manya, dear Manya,’ with a man when, if he -had his way, he would put that Manya of his into a sack, and throw her -into the river. A wife is a nuisance and a bore, and children are no -better, I can assure you. I have two scoundrels myself. There is nowhere -they can go to school on the steppe, and I can’t afford to send them to -Novotcherkask, so they are growing up here like young wolf cubs. At any -moment they may murder some one on the highway.” - -The fair-haired man listened attentively, and answered all questions -addressed to him briefly, in a low voice. He was evidently gentle and -unassuming. He told his companion that he was an attorney, on his way to -the village of Duevka on business. - -“Why, for heaven’s sake, that’s only nine miles from where I live!” -cried Jmukin, as if some one had been disputing it. “You won’t be able -to get any horses at the station this evening. In my opinion the best -thing for you to do is to come home with me, you know, and spend the -night at my house, you know, and let me send you on to-morrow with my -horses.” - -After a moment’s reflection the attorney accepted the invitation. - -The sun was hanging low over the steppe when they arrived at the -station. The two men remained silent as they drove from the railway to -the farm, for the jolting that the road gave them forbade conversation. -The tarantass[2] bounded and whined and seemed to be sobbing, as if its -leaps caused it the keenest pain, and the attorney, who found his seat -very uncomfortable, gazed with anguish before him, hoping to descry the -farm in the distance. After they had driven eight miles a low house -surrounded by a dark wattle fence came into view. The roof was painted -green, the stucco on the walls was peeling off, and the little windows -looked like puckered eyes. The farmhouse stood exposed to all the ardour -of the sun; neither trees nor water were visible anywhere near it. The -neighbouring landowners and peasants called it “Petcheneg Grange.” Many -years ago a passing surveyor, who was spending the night at the farm, -had talked with Jmukin all night, and had gone away in the morning much -displeased, saying sternly as he left: “Sir, you are nothing but a -Petcheneg!” So the name “Petcheneg Grange” had been given to the farm, -and had stuck to it all the more closely as Jmukin’s boys began to grow -up, and to perpetrate raids on the neighbouring gardens and melon -fields. Jmukin himself was known as “old man you know,” because he -talked so much, and used the words “you know” so often. - -Footnote 2: - - A rough carriage used in southern Russia. - -Jmukin’s two sons were standing in the courtyard, near the stables, as -the tarantass drove up. One was about nineteen, the other was a -hobbledehoy of a few years younger; both were barefoot and hatless. As -the carriage went by the younger boy threw a hen high up over his head. -It described an arc in the air, and fluttered cackling down till the -elder fired a shot from his gun, and the dead bird fell to earth with a -thud. - -“Those are my boys learning to shoot birds on the wing,” Jmukin said. - -The travellers were met in the front entry by a woman, a thin, -pale-faced little creature, still pretty and young, who, from her dress, -might have been taken for a servant. - -“This,” said Jmukin, “is the mother of those sons of guns of mine. Come -on, Lyuboff!” he cried to his wife. “Hustle, now, mother, and help -entertain our guest. Bring us some supper! Quick!” - -The house consisted of two wings. On one side were the “drawing-room” -and, adjoining it, the old man’s bedchamber; close, stuffy apartments -both, with low ceilings, infested by thousands of flies. On the other -side was the kitchen, where the cooking and washing were done and the -workmen were fed. Here, under benches, geese and turkeys were sitting on -their nests, and here stood the beds of Lyuboff and her two sons. The -furniture in the drawing-room was unpainted and had evidently been made -by a country joiner. On the walls hung guns, game bags, and whips, all -of which old trash was rusty and grey with dust. Not a picture was on -the walls, only a dark, painted board that had once been an icon hung in -one corner of the room. - -A young peasant woman set the table and brought in ham and borstch.[3] -Jmukin’s guest declined vodka, and confined himself to eating cucumbers -and bread. - -Footnote 3: - - Borstch: the national soup of Little Russia. - -“And what about the ham?” Jmukin asked. - -“No, thank you, I don’t eat ham,” answered his guest. “I don’t eat meat -of any kind.” - -“Why not?” - -“I’m a vegetarian. It’s against my principles to kill animals.” - -Jmukin was silent for a moment, and then said slowly, with a sigh: - -“I see—yes. I saw a man in town who didn’t eat meat either. It is a new -religion people have. And why shouldn’t they have it? It’s a good thing. -One can’t always be killing and shooting; one must take a rest sometimes -and let the animals have a little peace. Of course it’s a sin to kill, -there’s no doubt about that. Sometimes, when you shoot a hare, and hit -him in the leg he will scream like a baby. So it hurts him!” - -“Of course it hurts him! Animals suffer pain just as much as we do.” - -“That’s a fact!” Jmukin agreed. “I see that perfectly,” he added -pensively. “Only there is one thing that I must say I can’t quite -understand. Suppose, for instance, you know, every one were to stop -eating meat, what would become of all our barnyard fowls, like chickens -and geese?” - -“Chickens and geese would go free just like all other birds.” - -“Ah! Now I understand. Of course. Crows and magpies get on without us -all right. Yes. And chickens and geese and rabbits and sheep would all -be free and happy, you know, and would praise God, and not be afraid of -us any more. So peace and quiet would reign upon earth. Only one thing I -can’t understand, you know,” Jmukin continued, with a glance at the ham. -“Where would all the pigs go to? What would become of them?” - -“The same thing that would become of all the other animals, they would -go free.” - -“I see—yes. But, listen, if they were not killed, they would multiply, -you know, and then it would be good-by to our meadows and vegetable -gardens! Why, if a pig is turned loose and not watched, it will ruin -everything for you in a day! A pig is a pig, and hasn’t been called one -for nothing!” - -They finished their supper. Jmukin rose from the table, and walked up -and down the room for a long time, talking interminably. He loved to -think of and discuss deep and serious subjects, and was longing to -discover some theory that would sustain him in his old age, so that he -might find peace of mind, and not think it so terrible to die. He -desired for himself the same gentleness and self-confidence and peace of -mind which he saw in this guest of his, who had just eaten his fill of -cucumbers and bread, and was a better man for it, sitting there on a -bench so healthy and fat, patiently bored, looking like a huge heathen -idol that nothing could move from his seat. - -“If a man can only find some idea to hold to in life, he will be happy,” -Jmukin thought. - -The old Cossack went out on the front steps, and the attorney could hear -him sighing and repeating to himself: - -“Yes—I see——” - -Night was falling, and the stars were shining out one by one. The lamps -in the house had not been lit. Some one came creeping toward the -drawing-room as silently as a shadow, and stopped in the doorway. It was -Lyuboff, Jmukin’s wife. - -“Have you come from the city?” she asked timidly, without looking at her -guest. - -“Yes, I live in the city.” - -“Maybe you know about schools, master, and can tell us what to do if you -will be so kind. We need advice.” - -“What do you want?” - -“We have two sons, kind master, and they should have been sent to school -long ago, but nobody ever comes here and we have no one to tell us -anything. I myself know nothing. If they don’t go to school, they will -be taken into the army as common Cossacks. That is hard, master. They -can’t read or write, they are worse off than peasants, and their father -himself despises them, and won’t let them come into the house. Is it -their fault? If only the younger one, at least, could be sent to school! -It’s a pity to see them so!” she wailed, and her voice trembled. It -seemed incredible that a woman so little and young could already have -grown-up children. “Ah, it is such a pity!” she said again. - -“You know nothing about it, mother, and it’s none of your business,” -said Jmukin, appearing in the doorway. “Don’t pester our guest with your -wild talk. Go away, mother!” - -Lyuboff went out, repeating once more in a high little voice as she -reached the hall: - -“Ah, it is such a pity!” - -A bed was made up for the attorney on a sofa in the drawing-room, and -Jmukin lit the little shrine lamp, so that he might not be left in the -dark. Then he lay down in his own bedroom. Lying there he thought of -many things: his soul, his old age, and his recent stroke which had -given him such a fright and had so sharply reminded him of his -approaching death. He liked to philosophise when he was alone in the -dark, and at these times he imagined himself to be a very deep and -serious person indeed, whose attention only questions of importance -could engage. He now kept thinking that he would like to get hold of -some one idea unlike any other idea he had ever had, something -significant that would be the lodestar of his life. He wanted to think -of some law for himself, that would make his life as serious and deep as -he himself personally was. And here was an idea! He could go without -meat now, and deprive himself of everything that was superfluous to his -existence! The time would surely come when people would no longer kill -animals or one another, it could not but come, and he pictured this -future in his mind’s eye, and distinctly saw himself living at peace -with all the animal world. Then he remembered the pigs again, and his -brain began to reel. - -“What a muddle it all is!” he muttered, heaving a deep sigh. - -“Are you asleep?” he asked. - -“No.” - -Jmukin rose from his bed, and stood on the threshold of the door in his -nightshirt, exposing to his guest’s view his thin, sinewy legs, as -straight as posts. - -“Just look, now,” he began. “Here is all this telegraph and telephone -business, in a word, all these marvels, you know, and yet people are no -more virtuous than they used to be. It is said that when I was young, -thirty or forty years ago, people were rougher and crueller than they -are now, but aren’t they just the same to-day? Of course, they were less -ceremonious when I was a youngster. I remember how once, when we had -been stationed on the bank of a river in the Caucasus for four months -without anything to do, quite a little romance took place. On the very -bank of the river, you know, where our regiment was encamped, we had -buried a prince whom we had killed not long before. So at night, you -know, his princess used to come down to the grave and cry. She screamed -and screamed, and groaned and groaned until we got into such a state -that we couldn’t sleep a wink. We didn’t sleep for nights. We grew tired -of it. And honestly, why should we be kept awake by that devil of a -voice? Excuse the expression! So we took that princess and gave her a -good thrashing, and she stopped coming to the grave. There you are! -Nowadays, of course, men of that category don’t exist any more. People -don’t thrash one another, and they live more cleanly and learn more -lessons than they used to, but their hearts haven’t changed one bit, you -know. Listen to this, for instance. There is a landlord near here who -owns a coal mine, you know. He has all sorts of vagabonds and men -without passports working for him, men who have nowhere else to go. When -Saturday comes round the workmen have to be paid, and their employer -never wants to do that, he is too fond of his money. So he has picked -out a foreman, a vagabond, too, though he wears a hat, and he says to -him: ‘Don’t pay them a thing,’ says our gentleman, ‘not even a penny. -They will beat you, but you must stand it. If you do, I’ll give you ten -roubles every Saturday.’ So every week, regularly, when Saturday evening -comes round the workmen come for their wages, and the foreman says: -‘There aren’t any wages!’ Well, words follow, and then come abuse, and a -drubbing. They beat him and kick him, for the men are wild with hunger, -you know; they beat him until he is unconscious, and then go off to the -four winds of heaven. The owner of the mine orders cold water to be -thrown over his foreman, and pitches him ten roubles. The man takes the -money, and is thankful, for the fact is he would agree to wear a noose -round his neck for a penny! Yes, and on Monday a new gang of workmen -arrives. They come because they have nowhere else to go. On Saturday -there is the same old story over again.” - -The attorney rolled over, with his face toward the back of the sofa, and -mumbled something incoherent. - -“Take another example, for instance,” Jmukin went on. “When we had the -Siberian cattle plague here, you know, the cattle died like flies, I can -tell you. The veterinary surgeons came, and strictly ordered all -infected stock that died to be buried as far away from the farm as -possible, and to be covered with lime and so on, according to the laws -of science. Well, one of my horses died. I buried it with the greatest -care, and shovelled at least ten poods[4] of lime on top of it, but what -do you think? That pair of young jackanapes of mine dug up the horse one -night, and sold the skin for three roubles! There now, what do you think -of that?” - -Footnote 4: - - Pood: Russian measure of weight = 40 pounds. - -Flashes of lightning were gleaming through the cracks of the shutters on -one side of the room. The air was sultry before the approaching storm, -and the mosquitoes had begun to bite. Jmukin groaned and sighed, as he -lay meditating in his bed, and kept repeating to himself: - -“Yes—I see——” - -Sleep was impossible. Somewhere in the distance thunder was growling. - -“Are you awake?” - -“Yes,” answered his guest. - -Jmukin rose and walked with shuffling slippers through the drawing-room, -and hall, and into the kitchen to get a drink of water. - -“The worst thing in the world is stupidity,” he said, as he returned a -few minutes later with a dipper in his hand. “That Lyuboff of mine gets -down on her knees and prays to God every night. She flops down on the -floor and prays that the boys may be sent to school, you know. She is -afraid they will be drafted into the army as common Cossacks, and have -their backs tickled with sabres. But it would take money to send them to -school, and where can I get it? What you haven’t got you haven’t got, -and it’s no use crying for the moon! Another reason she prays is -because, like all women, you know, she thinks she is the most unhappy -creature in the world. I am an outspoken man, and I won’t hide anything -from you. She comes of a poor priest’s family—of church-bell stock, one -might say—and I married her when she was seventeen. They gave her to me -chiefly because times were hard, and her family were in want and had -nothing to eat, and when all is said and done I do own some land, as you -see, and I am an officer of sorts. She felt flattered at the idea of -being my wife, you know. But she began to cry on the day of our wedding, -and has cried every day since for twenty years; her eyes must be made of -water! She does nothing but sit and think. What does she think about, I -ask you? What can a woman think about? Nothing! The fact is, I don’t -consider women human beings.” - -The attorney jumped up impetuously, and sat up in bed. - -“Excuse me, I feel a little faint,” he said. “I am going out-of-doors.” - -Jmukin, still talking about women, drew back the bolts of the hall door, -and both men went out together. A full moon was floating over the -grange. The house and stables looked whiter than they had by day, and -shimmering white bands of light lay among the shadows on the lawn. To -the right lay the steppe, with the stars glowing softly over it; as one -gazed into its depths, it looked mysterious and infinitely distant, like -some bottomless abyss. To the left, heavy thunder-clouds lay piled one -upon another. Their margins were lit by the rays of the moon, and they -resembled dark forests, seas, and mountains with snowy summits. Flashes -of lightning were playing about their peaks, and soft thunder was -growling in their depths; a battle seemed to be raging among them. - -Quite near the house a little screech owl was crying monotonously: - -“Whew! Whew!” - -“What time is it?” asked the attorney. - -“Nearly two o’clock.” - -“What a long time yet until dawn!” - -They re-entered the house and lay down. It was time to go to sleep, and -sleep is usually so sound before a storm, but the old man was pining for -grave, weighty meditations, and he not only wanted to think, he wanted -to talk as well. So he babbled on of what a fine thing it would be if, -for the sake of his soul, a man could shake off this idleness that was -imperceptibly and uselessly devouring his days and years one after -another. He said he would like to think of some feat of strength to -perform, such as making a long journey on foot or giving up meat, as -this young man had done. And once more he pictured the future when men -would no longer kill animals; he pictured it as clearly and precisely as -if he himself had lived at that time, but suddenly his thoughts grew -confused, and again he understood nothing. - -The thunder-storm rolled by, but one corner of the cloud passed over the -grange, and the rain began to drum on the roof. Jmukin got up, sighing -with age and stretching his limbs, and peered into the drawing-room. -Seeing that his guest was still awake, he said: - -“When we were in the Caucasus, you know, we had a colonel who was a -vegetarian as you are. He never ate meat and never hunted or allowed his -men to fish. I can understand that, of course. Every animal has a right -to enjoy its life and its freedom. But I can’t understand how pigs could -be allowed to roam wherever they pleased without being watched——” - -His guest sat up in bed; his pale, haggard face was stamped with -vexation and fatigue. It was plain that he was suffering agonies, and -that only a kind and considerate heart forbade him to put his irritation -into words. - -“It is already light,” he said briefly. “Please let me have a horse -now.” - -“What do you mean? Wait until the rain stops!” - -“No, please!” begged the guest in a panic. “I really must be going at -once!” - -And he began to dress quickly. - -The sun was already rising when a horse and carriage were brought to the -door. The rain had stopped, the clouds were skimming across the sky, and -the rifts of blue were growing wider and wider between them. The first -rays of the sun were timidly lighting up the meadows below. The attorney -passed through the front entry with his portfolio under his arm, while -Jmukin’s wife, with red eyes, and a face even paler than it had been the -evening before, stood gazing fixedly at him with the innocent look of a -little girl. Her sorrowful face showed how much she envied her guest his -liberty. Ah, with what joy she, too, would have left this place! Her -eyes spoke of something she longed to say to him, perhaps some advice -she wanted to ask him about her boys. How pitiful she was! She was not a -wife, she was not the mistress of the house, she was not even a servant, -but a miserable dependent, a poor relation, a nonentity wanted by no -one. Her husband bustled about near his guest, not ceasing his talk for -an instant, and at last ran ahead to see him into the carriage, while -she stood shrinking timidly and guiltily against the wall, still waiting -for the moment to come that would give her an opportunity to speak. - -“Come again! Come again!” the old man repeated over and over again. -“Everything we have is at your service, you know!” - -His guest hastily climbed into the tarantass, obviously with infinite -pleasure, looking as if he were afraid every second of being detained. -The tarantass bounded and whined as it had done the day before, and a -bucket tied on behind clattered madly. The attorney looked round at -Jmukin with a peculiar expression in his eyes. He seemed to be wanting -to call him a Petcheneg, or something of the sort, as the surveyor had -done, but his kindness triumphed. He controlled himself, and the words -remained unsaid. As he reached the gate, however, he suddenly felt that -he could no longer contain himself; he rose in his seat, and cried out -in a loud, angry voice: - -“You bore me to death!” - -And with these words he vanished through the gate. - -Jmukin’s two sons were standing in front of the stable. The older was -holding a gun, the younger had in his arms a grey cock with a bright red -comb. The younger tossed the cock into the air with all his might; the -bird shot up higher than the roof of the house, and turned over in the -air. The elder boy shot, and it fell to the ground like a stone. - -The old man stood nonplussed, and unable to comprehend his guest’s -unexpected exclamation. At last he turned and slowly went into the -house. Sitting down to his breakfast, he fell into a long reverie about -the present tendency of thought, about the universal wickedness of the -present generation, about the telegraph and the telephone and bicycles, -and about how unnecessary it all was. But he grew calmer little by -little as he slowly ate his meal. He drank five glasses of tea, and lay -down to take a nap. - - - THE BISHOP - -It was on the eve of Palm Sunday; vespers were being sung in the -Staro-Petrovski Convent. The hour was nearly ten when the palm leaves -were distributed, and the little shrine lamps were growing dim; their -wicks had burnt low, and a soft haze hung in the chapel. As the -worshippers surged forward in the twilight like the waves of the sea, it -seemed to his Reverence Peter, who had been feeling ill for three days, -that the people who came to him for palm leaves all looked alike, and, -men or women, old or young, all had the same expression in their eyes. -He could not see the doors through the haze; the endless procession -rolled toward him, and seemed as if it must go on rolling for ever. A -choir of women’s voices was singing and a nun was reading the canon. - -How hot and close the air was, and how long the prayers! His Reverence -was tired. His dry, parching breath was coming quickly and painfully, -his shoulders were aching, and his legs were trembling. The occasional -cries of an idiot in the gallery annoyed him. And now, as a climax, his -Reverence saw, as in a delirium, his own mother whom he had not seen for -nine years coming toward him in the crowd. She, or an old woman exactly -like her, took a palm leaf from his hands, and moved away looking at him -all the while with a glad, sweet smile, until she was lost in the crowd. -And for some reason the tears began to course down his cheeks. His heart -was happy and peaceful, but his eyes were fixed on a distant part of the -chapel where the prayers were being read, and where no human being could -be distinguished among the shadows. The tears glistened on his cheeks -and beard. Then some one who was standing near him began to weep, too, -and then another, and then another, until little by little the chapel -was filled with a low sound of weeping. Then the convent choir began to -sing, the weeping stopped, and everything went on as before. - -Soon afterward the service ended. The fine, jubilant notes of the heavy -chapel-bells were throbbing through the moonlit garden as the bishop -stepped into his coach and drove away. The white walls, the crosses on -the graves, the silvery birches, and the far-away moon hanging directly -over the monastery, all seemed to be living a life of their own, -incomprehensible, but very near to mankind. It was early in April, and a -chilly night had succeeded a warm spring day. A light frost was falling, -but the breath of spring could be felt in the soft, cool air. The road -from the monastery was sandy, the horses were obliged to proceed at a -walk, and, bathed in the bright, tranquil moonlight, a stream of -pilgrims was crawling along on either side of the coach. All were -thoughtful, no one spoke. Everything around them, the trees, the sky, -and even the moon, looked so young and intimate and friendly that they -were reluctant to break the spell which they hoped might last for ever. - -Finally the coach entered the city, and rolled down the main street. All -the stores were closed but that of Erakin, the millionaire merchant. He -was trying his electric lights for the first time, and they were -flashing so violently that a crowd had collected in front of the store. -Then came wide, dark streets in endless succession, and then the -highway, and fields, and the smell of pines. Suddenly a white crenelated -wall loomed before him, and beyond it rose a tall belfry flanked by five -flashing golden cupolas, all bathed in moonlight. This was the -Pankratievski Monastery where his Reverence Peter lived. Here, too, the -calm, brooding moon was floating directly above the monastery. The coach -drove through the gate, its wheels crunching on the sand. Here and there -the dark forms of monks started out into the moonlight and footsteps -rang along the flagstone paths. - -“Your mother has been here while you were away, your Reverence,” a lay -brother told the bishop as he entered his room. - -“My mother? When did she come?” - -“Before vespers. She first found out where you were, and then drove to -the convent.” - -“Then it was she whom I saw just now in the chapel! Oh, Father in -heaven!” - -And his Reverence laughed for joy. - -“She told me to tell you, your Reverence,” the lay brother continued, -“that she would come back to-morrow. She had a little girl with her, a -grandchild, I think. She is stopping at Ovsianikoff’s inn.” - -“What time is it now?” - -“It is after eleven.” - -“What a nuisance!” - -His Reverence sat down irresolutely in his sitting-room, unwilling to -believe that it was already so late. His arms and legs were racked with -pain, the back of his neck was aching, and he felt uncomfortable and -hot. When he had rested a few moments he went into his bedroom and -there, too, he sat down, and dreamed of his mother. He heard the lay -brother walking away and Father Sisoi the priest coughing in the next -room. The monastery clock struck the quarter. - -His Reverence undressed and began his prayers. He spoke the old, -familiar words with scrupulous attention, and at the same time he -thought of his mother. She had nine children, and about forty -grandchildren. She had lived from the age of seventeen to the age of -sixty with her husband the deacon in a little village. His Reverence -remembered her from the days of his earliest childhood, and, ah, how he -had loved her! Oh, that dear, precious, unforgettable childhood of his! -Why did those years that had vanished for ever seem so much brighter and -richer and gayer than they really had been? How tender and kind his -mother had been when he was ill in his childhood and youth! His prayers -mingled with the memories that burned ever brighter and brighter in his -heart like a flame, but they did not hinder his thoughts of his mother. - -When he had prayed he lay down, and as soon as he found himself in the -dark there rose before his eyes the vision of his dead father, his -mother, and Lyesopolye, his native village. The creaking of wagon -wheels, the bleating of sheep, the sound of church-bells on a clear -summer morning, ah, how pleasant it was to think of these things! He -remembered Father Simeon, the old priest at Lyesopolye, a kind, gentle, -good-natured old man. He himself had been small, and the priest’s son -had been a huge strapping novice with a terrible bass voice. He -remembered how this young priest had scolded the cook once, and had -shouted: “Ah, you she-ass of Jehovah!” And Father Simeon had said -nothing, and had only been mortified because he could not for the life -of him remember reading of an ass of that name in the Bible! - -Father Simeon had been succeeded by Father Demian, a hard drinker who -sometimes even went so far as to see green snakes. He had actually borne -the nickname of “Demian the Snake-Seer” in the village. Matvei -Nikolaitch had been the schoolmaster, a kind, intelligent man, but a -hard drinker, too. He never thrashed his scholars, but for some reason -he kept a little bundle of birch twigs hanging on his wall, under which -was a tablet bearing the absolutely unintelligible inscription: “Betula -Kinderbalsamica Secuta.” He had had a woolly black dog whom he called -“Syntax.” - -The bishop laughed. Eight miles from Lyesopolye lay the village of -Obnino possessing a miraculous icon. A procession started from Obnino -every summer bearing the wonder-working icon and making the round of all -the neighbouring villages. The church-bells would ring all day long -first in one village, then in another, and to Little Paul (his Reverence -was called Little Paul then) the air itself seemed tremulous with -rapture. Barefoot, hatless, and infinitely happy, he followed the icon -with a naïve smile on his lips and naïve faith in his heart. - -Until the age of fifteen Little Paul had been so slow at his lessons -that his parents had even thought of taking him out of the -ecclesiastical school and putting him to work in the village store. - -The bishop turned over so as to break the train of his thoughts, and -tried to go to sleep. - -“My mother has come!” he remembered, and laughed. - -The moon was shining in through the window, and the floor was lit by its -rays while he lay in shadow. A cricket was chirping. Father Sisoi was -snoring in the next room, and there was a forlorn, friendless, even a -vagrant note in the old man’s cadences. - -Sisoi had once been the steward of a diocesan bishop and was known as -“Father Former Steward.” He was seventy years old, and lived sometimes -in a monastery sixteen miles away, sometimes in the city, sometimes -wherever he happened to be. Three days ago he had turned up at the -Pankratievski Monastery, and the bishop had kept him here in order to -discuss with him at his leisure the affairs of the monastery. - -The bell for matins rang at half past one. Father Sisoi coughed, growled -something, and got up. - -“Father Sisoi!” called the bishop. - -Sisoi came in dressed in a white cassock, carrying a candle in his hand. - -“I can’t go to sleep,” his Reverence said. “I must be ill. I don’t know -what the matter is; I have fever.” - -“You have caught cold, your Lordship. I must rub you with tallow.” - -Father Sisoi stood looking at him for a while and yawned: “Ah-h—the Lord -have mercy on us!” - -“Erakin has electricity in his store now—I hate it!” he continued. - -Father Sisoi was aged, and round-shouldered, and gaunt. He was always -displeased with something or other, and his eyes, which protruded like -those of a crab, always wore an angry expression. - -“I don’t like it at all,” he repeated—“I hate it.” - - - II - -Next day, on Palm Sunday, his Reverence officiated at the cathedral in -the city. Then he went to the diocesan bishop’s, then to see a general’s -wife who was very ill, and at last he drove home. At two o’clock two -beloved guests were having dinner with him, his aged mother, and his -little niece Kitty, a child of eight. The spring sun was peeping -cheerily in through the windows as they sat at their meal, and was -shining merrily on the white tablecloth, and on Kitty’s red hair. -Through the double panes they heard the rooks cawing, and the magpies -chattering in the garden. - -“It is nine years since I saw you last,” said the old mother, “and yet -when I caught sight of you in the convent chapel yesterday I thought to -myself: God bless me, he has not changed a bit! Only perhaps you are a -little thinner than you were, and your beard has grown longer. Oh, holy -Mother, Queen of Heaven! Everybody was crying yesterday. As soon as I -saw you, I began to cry myself, I don’t know why. His holy will be -done!” - -In spite of the tenderness with which she said this, it was clear that -she was not at her ease. It was as if she did not know whether to -address the bishop by the familiar “thee” or the formal “you,” and -whether she ought to laugh or not. She seemed to feel herself more of a -poor deacon’s wife than a mother in his presence. Meanwhile Kitty was -sitting with her eyes glued to the face of her uncle the bishop as if -she were trying to make out what manner of man this was. Her hair had -escaped from her comb and her bow of velvet ribbon, and was standing -straight up around her head like a halo. Her eyes were foxy and bright. -She had broken a glass before sitting down, and now, as she talked, her -grandmother kept moving first a glass, and then a wine glass out of her -reach. As the bishop sat listening to his mother, he remembered how, -many, many years ago, she had sometimes taken him and his brothers and -sisters to visit relatives whom they considered rich. She had been busy -with her own children in those days, and now she was busy with her -grandchildren, and had come to visit him with Kitty here. - -“Your sister Varenka has four children”—she was telling him—“Kitty is -the oldest. God knows why, her father fell ill and died three days -before Assumption. So my Varenka has been thrown out into the cold -world.” - -“And how is my brother Nikanor?” the bishop asked. - -“He is well, thank the Lord. He is pretty well, praise be to God. But -his son Nikolasha wouldn’t go into the church, and is at college instead -learning to be a doctor. He thinks it is best, but who knows? However, -God’s will be done!” - -“Nikolasha cuts up dead people!” said Kitty, spilling some water into -her lap. - -“Sit still child!” her grandmother said, quietly taking the glass out of -her hands. - -“How long it is since we have seen one another!” exclaimed his -Reverence, tenderly stroking his mother’s shoulder and hand. “I missed -you when I was abroad, I missed you dreadfully.” - -“Thank you very much!” - -“I used to sit by my window in the evening listening to the band -playing, and feeling lonely and forlorn. Sometimes I would suddenly grow -so homesick that I used to think I would gladly give everything I had in -the world for a glimpse of you and home.” - -His mother smiled and beamed, and then immediately drew a long face and -said stiffly: - -“Thank you very much!” - -The bishop’s mood changed. He looked at his mother, and could not -understand where she had acquired that deferential, humble expression of -face and voice, and what the meaning of it might be. He hardly -recognised her, and felt sorrowful and vexed. Besides, his head was -still aching, and his legs were racked with pain. The fish he was eating -tasted insipid and he was very thirsty. - -After dinner two wealthy lady landowners visited him, and sat for an -hour and a half with faces a mile long, never uttering a word. Then an -archimandrite, a gloomy, taciturn man, came on business. Then the bells -rang for vespers, the sun set behind the woods, and the day was done. As -soon as he got back from church the bishop said his prayers, and went to -bed, drawing the covers up closely about his ears. The moonlight -troubled him, and soon the sound of voices came to his ears. Father -Sisoi was talking politics with his mother in the next room. - -“There is a war in Japan now,” he was saying. “The Japanese belong to -the same race as the Montenegrins. They fell under the Turkish yoke at -the same time.” - -And then the bishop heard his mother’s voice say: - -“And so, you see, when we had said our prayers, and had our tea, we went -to Father Yegor——” - -She kept saying over and over again that they “had tea,” as if all she -knew of life was tea-drinking. - -The memory of his seminary and college life slowly and mistily took -shape in the bishop’s mind. He had been a teacher of Greek for three -years, until he could no longer read without glasses, and then he had -taken the vows, and had been made an inspector. When he was thirty-two -he had been made the rector of a seminary, and then an archimandrite. At -that time his life had been so easy and pleasant, and had seemed to -stretch so far, far into the future that he could see absolutely no end -to it. But his health had failed, and he had nearly lost his eyesight. -His doctors had advised him to give up his work and go abroad. - -“And what did you do next?” asked Father Sisoi in the adjoining room. - -“And then we had tea,” answered his mother. - -“Why, Father, your beard is green!” exclaimed Kitty suddenly. And she -burst out laughing. - -The bishop remembered that the colour of Father Sisoi’s beard really did -verge on green, and he, too, laughed. - -“My goodness! What a plague that child is!” cried Father Sisoi in a loud -voice, for he was growing angry. “You’re a spoiled baby you are! Sit -still!” - -The bishop recalled the new white church in which he had officiated when -he was abroad, and the sound of a warm sea. Eight years had slipped by -while he was there; then he had been recalled to Russia, and now he was -already a bishop, and the past had faded away into mist as if it had -been but a dream. - -Father Sisoi came into his room with a candle in his hand. - -“Well, well!” he exclaimed, surprised. “Asleep already, your Reverence?” - -“Why not?” - -“It’s early yet, only ten o’clock! I bought a candle this evening and -wanted to rub you with tallow.” - -“I have a fever,” the bishop said, sitting up. “I suppose something -ought to be done. My head feels so queer.” - -Sisoi began to rub the bishop’s chest and back with tallow. - -“There—there—” he said. “Oh, Lord God Almighty! There! I went to town -to-day, and saw that—what do you call him?—that archpresbyter Sidonski. -I had tea with him. I hate him! Oh, Lord God Almighty! There! I hate -him!” - - - III - -The diocesan bishop was very old and very fat, and had been ill in bed -with gout for a month. So his Reverence Peter had been visiting him -almost every day, and had received his suppliants for him. And now that -he was ill he was appalled to think of the futilities and trifles they -asked for and wept over. He felt annoyed at their ignorance and -cowardice. The very number of all those useless trivialities oppressed -him, and he felt as if he could understand the diocesan bishop who had -written “Lessons in Free Will” when he was young, and now seemed so -absorbed in details that the memory of everything else, even of God, had -forsaken him. Peter must have grown out of touch with Russian life while -he was abroad, for it was hard for him to grow used to it now. The -people seemed rough, the women stupid and tiresome, the novices and -their teachers uneducated and often disorderly. And then the documents -that passed through his hands by the hundreds of thousands! The provosts -gave all the priests in the diocese, young and old, and their wives and -children marks for good behaviour, and he was obliged to talk about all -this, and read about it, and write serious articles on it. His Reverence -never had a moment which he could call his own; all day his nerves were -on edge, and he only grew calm when he found himself in church. - -He could not grow accustomed to the terror which he involuntarily -inspired in every breast in spite of his quiet and modest ways. Every -one in the district seemed to shrivel and quake and apologise as soon as -he looked at them. Every one trembled in his presence; even the old -archpresbyters fell down at his feet, and not long ago one suppliant, -the old wife of a village priest, had been prevented by terror from -uttering a word, and had gone away without asking for anything. And he, -who had never been able to say a harsh word in his sermons, and who -never blamed people because he pitied them so, would grow exasperated -with these suppliants, and hurl their petitions to the ground. Not a -soul had spoken sincerely and naturally to him since he had been here; -even his old mother had changed, yes, she had changed very much! Why did -she talk so freely to Sisoi when all the while she was so serious and -ill at ease with him, her own son? It was not like her at all! The only -person who behaved naturally in his presence, and who said whatever came -into his head was old man Sisoi, who had lived with bishops all his -life, and had outlasted eleven of them. And therefore his Reverence felt -at ease with Sisoi, even though he was, without doubt, a rough and -quarrelsome person. - -After morning prayers on Tuesday the bishop received his suppliants, and -lost his temper with them. He felt ill, as usual, and longed to go to -bed, but he had hardly entered his room before he was told that the -young merchant Erakin, a benefactor of the monastery, had called on very -important business. The bishop was obliged to receive him. Erakin stayed -about an hour talking in a very loud voice, and it was hard to -understand what he was trying to say. - -After he had gone there came an abbess from a distant convent, and by -the time she had gone the bells were tolling for vespers; it was time -for the bishop to go to church. - -The monks sang melodiously and rapturously that evening; a young, -black-bearded priest officiated. His Reverence listened as they sang of -the Bridegroom and of the chamber swept and garnished, and felt neither -repentance nor sorrow, but only a deep peace of mind. He sat by the -altar where the shadows were deepest, and was swept in imagination back -into the days of his childhood and youth, when he had first heard these -words sung. The tears trickled down his cheeks, and he meditated on how -he had attained everything in life that it was possible for a man in his -position to attain; his faith was unsullied, and yet all was not clear -to him; something was lacking, and he did not want to die. It still -seemed to him that he was leaving unfound the most important thing of -all. Something of which he had dimly dreamed in the past, hopes that had -thrilled his heart as a child, a schoolboy, and a traveller in foreign -lands, troubled him still. - -“How beautifully they are singing to-day!” he thought. “Oh, how -beautifully!” - - - IV - -On Thursday he held a service in the cathedral. It was the festival of -the Washing of Feet. When the service was over, and the people had gone -to their several homes, the sun was shining brightly and cheerily, and -the air was warm. The gutters were streaming with bubbling water, and -the tender songs of larks came floating in from the fields beyond the -city, bringing peace to his heart. The trees were already awake, and -over them brooded the blue, unfathomable sky. - -His Reverence went to bed as soon as he reached home, and told the lay -brother to close his shutters. The room grew dark. Oh, how tired he was! - -As on the day before, the sound of voices and the tinkling of glasses -came to him from the next room. His mother was gaily recounting some -tale to Father Sisoi, with many a quaint word and saying, and the old -man was listening gloomily, and answering in a gruff voice: - -“Well, I never! Did they, indeed? What do you think of that!” - -And once more the bishop felt annoyed, and then hurt that the old lady -should be so natural and simple with strangers, and so silent and -awkward with her own son. It even seemed to him that she always tried to -find some pretext for standing in his presence, as if she felt uneasy -sitting down. And his father? If he had been alive, he would probably -not have been able to utter a word when the bishop was there. - -Something in the next room fell to the floor with a crash. Kitty had -evidently broken a cup or a saucer, for Father Sisoi suddenly snorted, -and cried angrily: - -“What a terrible plague this child is! Merciful heavens! No one could -keep her supplied with china!” - -Then silence fell. When he opened his eyes again, the bishop saw Kitty -standing by his bedside staring at him, her red hair standing up around -her head like a halo, as usual. - -“Is that you, Kitty?” he asked. “Who is that opening and shutting doors -down there?” - -“I don’t hear anything.” - -He stroked her head. - -“So your cousin Nikolasha cuts up dead people, does he?” he asked, after -a pause. - -“Yes, he is learning to.” - -“Is he nice?” - -“Yes, very, only he drinks a lot.” - -“What did your father die of?” - -“Papa grew weaker and weaker, and thinner and thinner, and then came his -sore throat. And I was ill, too, and so was my brother Fedia. We all had -sore throats. Papa died, Uncle, but we got well.” - -Her chin quivered, her eyes filled with tears. - -“Oh, your Reverence!” she cried in a shrill voice, beginning to weep -bitterly. “Dear Uncle, mother and all of us are so unhappy! Do give us a -little money! Help us, Uncle darling!” - -He also shed tears, and for a moment could not speak for emotion. He -stroked her hair, and touched her shoulder, and said: - -“All right, all right, little child. Wait until Easter comes, then we -will talk about it. I’ll help you.” - -His mother came quietly and timidly into the room, and said a prayer -before the icon. When she saw that he was awake, she asked: - -“Would you like a little soup?” - -“No, thanks,” he answered. “I’m not hungry.” - -“I don’t believe you are well—I can see that you are not well. You -really mustn’t fall ill! You have to be on your feet all day long. My -goodness, it makes one tired to see you! Never mind, Easter is no longer -over the hills and far away. When Easter comes you will rest. God will -give us time for a little talk then, but now I’m not going to worry you -any more with my silly chatter. Come, Kitty, let his Lordship have -another forty winks——” - -And the bishop remembered that, when he was a boy, she had used exactly -the same half playful, half respectful tone to all high dignitaries of -the church. Only by her strangely tender eyes, and by the anxious look -which she gave him as she left the room could any one have guessed that -she was his mother. He shut his eyes, and seemed to be asleep, but he -heard the clock strike twice, and Father Sisoi coughing next door. His -mother came in again, and looked shyly at him. Suddenly there came a -bang, and a door slammed; a vehicle of some kind drove up to the front -steps. The lay brother came into the bishop’s room, and called: - -“Your Reverence!” - -“What is it?” - -“Here is the coach! It is time to go to our Lord’s Passion——” - -“What time is it?” - -“Quarter to eight.” - -The bishop dressed, and drove to the cathedral. He had to stand -motionless in the centre of the church while the twelve gospels were -being read, and the first and longest and most beautiful of them all he -read himself. A strong, valiant mood took hold of him. He knew this -gospel, beginning “The Son of Man is risen to-day—,” by heart, and as he -repeated it, he raised his eyes, and saw a sea of little lights about -him. He heard the sputtering of candles, but the people had disappeared. -He felt surrounded by those whom he had known in his youth; he felt that -they would always be here until—God knew when! - -His father had been a deacon, his grandfather had been a priest, and his -great grandfather a deacon. He sprang from a race that had belonged to -the church since Christianity first came to Russia, and his love for the -ritual of the church, the clergy, and the sound of church-bells was -inborn in him, deeply, irradicably implanted in his heart. When he was -in church, especially when he was taking part in the service himself, he -felt active and valorous and happy. And so it was with him now. Only, -after the eighth gospel had been read, he felt that his voice was -becoming so feeble that even his cough was inaudible; his head was -aching, and he began to fear that he might collapse. His legs were -growing numb; in a little while he ceased to have any sensation in them -at all, and could not imagine what he was standing on, and why he did -not fall down. - -It was quarter to twelve when the service ended. The bishop went to bed -as soon as he reached home, without even saying his prayers. As he -pulled his blanket up over him, he suddenly wished that he were abroad; -he passionately wished it. He would give his life, he thought, to cease -from seeing these cheap, wooden walls and that low ceiling, to cease -from smelling the stale scent of the monastery. - -If there were only some one with whom he could talk, some one to whom he -could unburden his heart! - -He heard steps in the adjoining room, and tried to recall who it might -be. At last the door opened, and Father Sisoi came in with a candle in -one hand, and a teacup in the other. - -“In bed already, your Reverence?” he asked. “I have come to rub your -chest with vinegar and vodka. It is a fine thing, if rubbed in good and -hard. Oh, Lord God Almighty! There—there—I have just come from our -monastery. I hate it. I am going away from here to-morrow, my Lord. Oh, -Lord, God Almighty—there——” - -Sisoi never could stay long in one place, and he now felt as if he had -been in this monastery for a year. It was hard to tell from what he said -where his home was, whether there was any one or anything in the world -that he loved, and whether he believed in God or not. He himself never -could make out why he had become a monk, but then, he never gave it any -thought, and the time when he had taken the vows had long since faded -from his memory. He thought he must have been born a monk. - -“Yes, I am going away to-morrow. Bother this place!” - -“I want to have a talk with you—I never seem to have the time—” -whispered the bishop, making a great effort to speak. “You see, I don’t -know any one—or anything—here——” - -“Very well then, I shall stay until Sunday, but no longer! Bother this -place!” - -“What sort of a bishop am I?” his Reverence went on, in a faint voice. -“I ought to have been a village priest, or a deacon, or a plain monk. -All this is choking me—it is choking me——” - -“What’s that? Oh, Lord God Almighty! There—go to sleep now, your -Reverence. What do you mean? What’s all this you are saying? Good -night!” - -All night long the bishop lay awake, and in the morning he grew very -ill. The lay brother took fright and ran first to the archimandrite, and -then for the monastery doctor who lived in the city. The doctor, a -stout, elderly man, with a long, grey beard, looked intently at his -Reverence, shook his head, knit his brows, and finally said: - -“I’ll tell you what, your Reverence; you have typhoid.” - -The bishop grew very thin and pale in the next hour, his eyes grew -larger, his face became covered with wrinkles, and he looked quite small -and old. He felt as if he were the thinnest, weakest, puniest man in the -whole world, and as if everything that had occurred before this had been -left far, far behind, and would never happen again. - -“How glad I am of that!” he thought. “Oh, how glad!” - -His aged mother came into the room. When she saw his wrinkled face and -his great eyes, she was seized with fear, and, falling down on her knees -by his bedside, she began kissing his face, his shoulders, and his -hands. He seemed to her to be the thinnest, weakest, puniest man in the -world, and she forgot that he was a bishop, and kissed him as if he had -been a little child whom she dearly, dearly loved. - -“Little Paul, my dearie!” she cried. “My little son, why do you look -like this? Little Paul, oh, answer me!” - -Kitty, pale and severe, stood near them, and could not understand what -was the matter with her uncle, and why granny wore such a look of -suffering on her face, and spoke such heartrending words. And he, he was -speechless, and knew nothing of what was going on around him. He was -dreaming that he was an ordinary man once more, striding swiftly and -merrily through the open country, a staff in his hand, bathed in -sunshine, with the wide sky above him, as free as a bird to go wherever -his fancy led him. - -“My little son! My little Paul! Answer me!” begged his mother. - -“Don’t bother his Lordship,” said Sisoi. “Let him sleep. What’s the -matter?” - -Three doctors came, consulted together, and drove away. The day seemed -long, incredibly long, and then came the long, long night. Just before -dawn on Saturday morning the lay brother went to the old mother who was -lying on a sofa in the sitting-room, and asked her to come into the -bedroom; his Reverence had gone to eternal peace. - -Next day was Easter. There were forty-two churches in the city, and two -monasteries, and the deep, joyous notes of their bells pealed out over -the town from morning until night. The birds were carolling, the bright -sun was shining. The big market place was full of noise; barrel organs -were droning, concertinas were squealing, and drunken voices were -ringing through the air. Trotting races were held in the main street -that afternoon; in a word, all was merry and gay, as had been the year -before and as, doubtless, it would be the year to come. - -A month later a new bishop was appointed, and every one forgot his -Reverence Peter. Only the dead man’s mother, who is living now in a -little country town with her son the deacon, when she goes out at sunset -to meet her cow, and joins the other women on the way, tells them about -her children and grandchildren, and her boy who became a bishop. - -And when she mentions him she looks at them shyly, for she is afraid -they will not believe her. - -And, as a matter of fact, not all of them do. - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - A SELECTION FROM DUCKWORTH & CO.’S LIST OF PUBLICATIONS - - -[Illustration: DESORMAIS] - - 3 HENRIETTA STREET, COVENT GARDEN - LONDON, W.C. - - - - - DUCKWORTH & CO.’S - PUBLICATIONS - - - ANIMAL LIFE AND WILD NATURE - (STORIES OF). - - _Uniform bindings large cr. 8vo. 6s. net._ - - UNDER THE ROOF OF THE JUNGLE. A Book of Animal Life in the Guiana - Wilds. Written and illustrated by Charles Livingston Bull. With 60 - full-page plates drawn from Life by the Author. - - THE KINDRED OF THE WILD. A Book of Animal Life. By Charles G. D. - Roberts, Professor of Literature, Toronto University, late - Deputy-Keeper of Woods and Forests, Canada. With many illustrations - by Charles Livingston Bull. - - THE WATCHERS OF THE TRAILS. A Book of Animal Life. By Charles G. D. - Roberts. With 48 illustrations by Charles Livingston Bull. - - THE STORY OF RED FOX. A Biography. By Charles G. D. Roberts. - Illustrated by Charles Livingston Bull. - - THE HAUNTERS OF THE SILENCES. A Book of Wild Nature. By Charles G. D. - Roberts. Illustrated by Charles Livingston Bull. - - - BOOKS ON ART. - - ART—THE LIBRARY OF, embracing Painting, Sculpture, Architecture, etc. - Edited by Mrs S. Arthur Strong, LL.D. _Extra cloth_, with lettering - and design in gold. _Large cr. 8vo_ (7¾ in. × 5¾ in.), _gilt top, - headband. 5s. net a volume. Inland postage, 5d._ - - - LIST OF VOLUMES - - DONATELLO. By Lord Balcarres, M.P. With 58 plates. - GREAT MASTERS OF DUTCH AND FLEMISH PAINTING. By Dr W. Bode. With 48 - plates. - - REMBRANDT. By G. Baldwin Brown, of the University of Edinburgh. With 45 - plates. - ANTONIO POLLAIUOLO. By Maud Cruttwell. With 50 plates. - VERROCCHIO. By Maud Cruttwell. With 48 plates. - THE LIVES OF THE BRITISH ARCHITECTS. By E. Beresford Chancellor. With 45 - plates. - THE SCHOOL OF MADRID. By A. de Beruete y Moret. With 48 plates. - WILLIAM BLAKE. By Basil de Selincourt. With 40 plates. - GIOTTO. By Basil de Selincourt. With 44 plates. - FRENCH PAINTING IN THE SIXTEENTH CENTURY. By L. Dimier. With 50 plates. - THE SCHOOL OF FERRARA. By Edmund G. Gardner. With 50 plates. - SIX GREEK SCULPTORS. (Myron, Pheidias, Polykleitos, Skopas, Praxiteles, - and Lysippos.) By Ernest Gardner. With 81 plates. - TITIAN. By Dr Georg Gronau. With 54 plates. - CONSTABLE. By M. Sturge Henderson. With 48 plates. - PISANELLO. By G. F. Hill. With 50 plates. - MICHAEL ANGELO. By Sir Charles Holroyd. With 52 plates. - MEDIÆVAL ART. By W. R. Lethaby. With 66 plates and 120 drawings in the - text. - THE SCOTTISH SCHOOL OF PAINTING. By William D. McKay, R.S.A. With 46 - plates. - CHRISTOPHER WREN. By Lena Milman. With upwards of 60 plates. - CORREGGIO. By T. Sturge Moore. With 55 plates. - ALBERT DÜRER. By T. Sturge Moore. With 4 copperplates and 50 half-tone - engravings. - SIR WILLIAM BEECHEY, R.A. By W. Roberts. With 49 plates. - THE SCHOOL OF SEVILLE. By N. Sentenach. With 50 plates. - ROMAN SCULPTURE FROM AUGUSTUS TO CONSTANTINE. By Mrs S. Arthur Strong, - LL.D., Editor of the Series. 2 vols. With 130 plates. - - ART, THE POPULAR LIBRARY OF. Pocket volumes of biographical and - critical value on the great painters, with very many reproductions - of the artists’ works. Each volume averages 200 pages, 16mo, with - from 40 to 50 illustrations. To be had in different styles of - binding: _Boards gilt, 1s. net_; _green canvas and red cloth gilt, - 2s. net_; _limp lambskin, red and green, 2s. 6d. net_. Several - titles can also be had in the popular Persian yapp binding, in box, - _2s. 6d. net each_. - - - LIST OF VOLUMES. - - BOTTICELLI. By Julia Cartwright (Mrs Ady). Also in Persian yapp binding. - RAPHAEL. By Julia Cartwright (Mrs Ady). Also in Persian yapp binding. - - FREDERICK WALKER. By Clementina Black. - REMBRANDT. By Auguste Bréal. - VELAZQUEZ. By Auguste Bréal. Also in Persian yapp binding. - GAINSBOROUGH. By Arthur B. Chamberlain. Also in Persian yapp binding. - CRUIKSHANK. By W. H. Chesson. - BLAKE. By G. K. Chesterton. - G. F. WATTS. By G. K. Chesterton. Also in Persian yapp binding. - ALBRECHT DÜRER. By Lina Eckenstein. - THE ENGLISH WATER-COLOUR PAINTERS. By A. J. Finberg. Also in Persian - yapp binding. - HOGARTH. By Edward Garnett. - LEONARDO DA VINCI. By Dr Georg Gronau. Also in Persian yapp binding. - HOLBEIN. By Ford Madox Hueffer. - ROSSETTI. By Ford Madox Hueffer. Also in Persian yapp binding. - THE PRE-RAPHAELITE BROTHERHOOD. By Ford Madox Hueffer. Also in Persian - yapp binding. - PERUGINO. By Edward Hutton. - MILLET. By Romain Rolland. Also in Persian yapp binding. - WATTEAU. By Camille Mauclair. - THE FRENCH IMPRESSIONISTS. By Camille Mauclair. Also in Persian yapp - binding. - WHISTLER. By Bernhard Sickert. Also in Persian yapp binding. - - AMELUNG, WALTHER, AND HOLTZINGER, HEINRICH. The Museums and Ruins of - Rome. A Guide Book. Edited by Mrs S. Arthur Strong, LL.D. With 264 - illustrations and map and plans. 2 vols. New and cheaper re-issue. - _Fcap 8vo. 5s. net._ - - BURNS, REV. J. Sermons in Art by the Great Masters. _Cloth gilt_, - photogravure frontispiece and many illustrations. _Cr. 8vo. 6s._ Or - bound in parchment, _5s. net_. - - —— The Christ Face in Art. With 60 illustrations in tint. _Cr. 8vo. - cloth gilt. 6s._ Or bound in parchment, _5s. net_. - - BUSSY, DOROTHY. Eugène Delacroix. A Critical Appreciation. With 26 - illustrations. New and cheaper re-issue. _Cr. 8vo. 2s. 6d. net._ - - CAROTTI, GIULIO. A History of Art. English edition, edited by Mrs S. - Arthur Strong, LL.D. In four volumes, with very numerous - illustrations in each volume. _Small cr. 8vo. 5s. net each volume._ - - Vol. I.—ANCIENT ART. 500 illustrations. - Vol. II.—MIDDLE AGES DOWN TO THE GOLDEN AGE. - - LÖWY, EMANUEL. The Rendering of Nature in Early Greek Art. With 30 - illustrations. _Cr. 8vo. 5s. net._ - - MAUCLAIR, CAMILLE. Auguste Rodin. With very many illustrations and - photogravure frontispiece. _Small 4to._ New and cheaper re-issue. - _7s. 6d. net._ - - _See also Popular Library of Art for other books by Camille - Mauclair._ - - QUIGLEY, J. Leandro Ramon Garrido: his Life and Art. With 26 - illustrations. _Sq. cr. 8vo. 5s. net._ - - - GENERAL LITERATURE. - - ARCHER, WILLIAM, and BARKER, H. GRANVILLE. A National Theatre. Schemes - and Estimates. By William Archer and H. Granville Barker. _Cr. 4to. - 5s. net._ - - ASPINALL, ALGERNON E. The Pocket Guide to the West Indies. A New and - Revised Edition, with maps, very fully illustrated. _Fcap. 8vo. 5s. - net._ - - —— West Indian Tales of Old. Illustrated. _Cr. 8vo. 5s. net._ - - AUSTIN, SARAH. The Story without an End. From the German of Carové. - Illustrated by Frank C. Papé. 8 Illustrations in Colour. _Large cr. - 8vo. Designed end papers. Cloth gilt, gilt top. In box. 5s. net._ - - —— —— Illustrated by Paul Henry. _8vo. 1s. 6d. net._ - - BELLOC, HILAIRE. Verses. _Large cr. 8vo._ 2nd edition. _5s. net._ - - —— and B. T. B. The Bad Child’s Book of Beasts. New edition. 25th - thousand. _Sq. 4to. 1s. net._ - - —— and B. T. B. More Beasts for Worse Children. New edition. _Sq. 4to. - 1s. net._ - - _See also Readers’ Library and Shilling Series for other books by H. - Belloc._ - - BOURNE, GEORGE. Change in the Village: A study of the village of - to-day. _Cr. 8vo. 5s. net._ - - —— —— Lucy Bettesworth. _Cr. 8vo. 6s._ - - _See the Readers’ Library for other books by George Bourne._ - - BOUTROUX, EMILE. The Beyond that is Within, and other Lectures. _Fcap. - 8vo. 3s. 6d. net._ - - _See the Crown Library for another book by Professor Boutroux._ - - BROOKE, STOPFORD A. The Onward Cry: Essays and Sermons. New and - Cheaper Edition. _Cr. 8vo. 2s. 6d. net._ - - _See also the Readers’ Library and Roadmender Series for other books - by Stopford Brooke._ - - CHAPMAN, HUGH B., Chaplain of the Savoy. At the Back of Things: Essays - and Addresses. _Cr. 8vo. 5s. net._ - - COLLIER, PRICE. England and the English, from an American point of - view. _Demy 8vo. 7s. 6d. net._ Also a popular edition, with Foreword - by Lord Rosebery. _Fcap. 8vo. 2s. 6d. net._ - - —— The West in the East: A study of British Rule in India. _Demy 8vo. - 7s. 6d. net._ - - —— Germany and the Germans from an American Point of View. _Demy 8vo, - 600 pages. 7s. 6d. net._ - - COULTON, G. G. From St Francis to Dante. A Historical Sketch. Second - edition. _Demy 8vo. 12s. 6d net._ - - CROWN LIBRARY. _Demy 8vo, cloth gilt, gilt top. 5s. net a volume._ - - THE RUBÁ’IYÁT OF ’UMAR KHAYYÁM (Fitzgerald’s 2nd Edition). Edited, - with an Introduction and Notes, by Edward Heron Allen. - SCIENCE AND RELIGION IN CONTEMPORARY PHILOSOPHY. By Emile Boutroux. - WANDERINGS IN ARABIA. By Charles M. Doughty. An abridged edition of - “Travels in Arabia Deserta.” With portrait and map. In 2 vols. - FOLK-LORE OF THE HOLY LAND: Moslem, Christian, and Jewish. By J. E. - Hanauer. Edited by Marmaduke Pickthall. - LIFE AND EVOLUTION. By F. W. Headley, F.Z.S. With upwards of 100 - illustrations. New and revised edition (1913). - THE NOTE-BOOKS OF LEONARDO DA VINCI. Edited by Edward McCurdy. With - 14 illustrations. - THE LIFE AND LETTERS OF LESLIE STEPHEN. By F. W. Maitland. With a - photogravure portrait. - THE COUNTRY MONTH BY MONTH. By J. A. Owen and G. S. Boulger. With 20 - illustrations. - SPINOZA: His Life and Philosophy. By Sir Frederick Pollock. - THE ENGLISH UTILITARIANS. By Sir Leslie Stephen. 3 vols. - Vol. I. JAMES MILL. - Vol. II. JEREMY BENTHAM. - Vol. III. JOHN STUART MILL. - - CRITICAL STUDIES. By S. Arthur Strong. With Memoir by Lord - Balcarres, M.P. Illustrated. - - CUTTING CERES. The Praying Girl. Thoughtful Religious Essays. _Sq. cr. - 8vo. 3s. 6d. net._ - - DARWIN, BERNARD, AND ROUNTREE, HARRY. The Golf Courses of the British - Isles. 48 illustrations in colour and 16 in sepia. _Sq. royal 8vo. - 21s. net._ - - DE LA MARE, WALTER. The Three Mulla Mulgars. A Romance of the Great - Forests. With illustrations in colour. _Cr. 8vo. 5s. net._ - - DESMOND, G. G. The Roll of the Seasons: a Book of Nature Essays. By G. - G. Desmond. With twelve illustrations in Colour. _Cr. 8vo. 5s. net._ - - DOUGHTY, CHAS. M. Adam Cast Forth. A Poem founded on a Judæo-Arabian - Legend of Adam and Eve. _Cr. 8vo. 4s. 6d. net._ - - —— The Cliffs. A Poetic Drama of the Invasion of Britain in 19—. _Cr. - 8vo. 5s. net._ - - —— The Clouds: a Poem. _Large cr. 8vo. 5s. net._ - - —— The Dawn in Britain. An Epic Poem of the Beginnings of Britain. In - six vols. Vols. 1 and 2, _9s. net_; Vols. 3 and 4, _9s. net_; Vols. - 5 and 6, _9s. net_. The Set, _27s. net_. - - _See also Crown Library for another work by C. M. Doughty._ - - FAIRLESS, MICHAEL. Complete Works. 3 vols. In slip case. _Buckram - gilt. 7s. 6d. net._ - - _See also the Roadmender Series._ - - —— The Roadmender. Illustrated in Colour by E. W. Waite. _Cloth gilt, - gilt top. 7s. 6d. net. In a Box._ - - —— —— Illustrated in photogravure from drawings by W. G. Mein. In slip - case. _5s. net._ - - FALCONER, REV. HUGH. The Unfinished Symphony. New and Cheaper Edition. - _Cr. 8vo. 2s. 6d. net._ - - GARDINER, MRS STANLEY. We Two and Shamus: The Story of a Caravan - Holiday in Ireland. With illustrations. _Cr. 8vo. 5s. net._ - - GRAHAM, R. B. CUNNINGHAME. Charity. _Cr. 8vo. 6s._ - - —— Faith. _Cr. 8vo. 6s._ - - —— Hope. _Cr. 8vo. 6s._ - - —— His People. _Cr. 8vo. 6s._ - - _See also Readers’ Library and Shilling Series for other books by - Cunninghame Graham._ - - HEADLAM, CECIL. Walter Headlam: Letters and Poems. With Memoir by - Cecil Headlam. With photogravure portrait. _Demy 8vo. 7s. 6d. net._ - - HENDERSON, ARCHIBALD. Mark Twain. A Biography. With 8 photographs by - Alvin Langdon Coburn. _Large cr. 8vo. 5s. net._ - - HENDERSON, ARCHIBALD. Interpreters of Life and the Modern Spirit: - Critical Essays. With a photogravure portrait of Meredith. _Cr. 8vo. - 5s. net._ - - HILL, M. D., AND WEBB, WILFRED MARK. Eton Nature-Study and - Observational Lessons. With numerous illustrations. In two parts. - _3s. 6d. net each._ Also the two parts in one volume, _6s. net_. - - HUDSON, W. H. A Little Boy Lost. With 30 illustrations by A. D. - McCormick. _Sq. cr. 8vo. 3s. 6d. net._ - - _See also Readers’ Library and Shilling Series for other books by W. - H. Hudson._ - - HUEFFER, FORD MADOX. The Critical Attitude. Literary Essays. _Sq. cr. - 8vo. Buckram. 5s. net._ - - _See also Readers’ Library and The Popular Library of Art for other - books by Ford Madox Hueffer._ - - —— HIGH GERMANY: VERSES. _Sq. cr. 8vo, paper covers. 1s. net._ - - HUGHES, REV. G. Conscience and Criticism. With Foreword by the Bishop - of Winchester. New and Cheaper Edition. _Cr. 8vo. 2s. 6d. net._ - - HUTCHINSON, T. Lyrical Ballads by William Wordsworth and S. T. - Coleridge, 1798. With certain poems of 1798, Introduction and Notes. - _Fcap. 8vo._ New and Revised Edition. With 2 photogravures. _3s. 6d. - net._ - - HUXLEY, HENRIETTA. Poems: concluding with those of Thomas Henry - Huxley. _Fcap. 8vo. Art canvas. 3s. 6d. net._ - - JEFFERIES, RICHARD. The Story of My Heart. By Richard Jefferies. A New - Edition Reset. With 8 illustrations from oil paintings by Edward W. - Waite. _Demy 8vo._ The pictures mounted with frames and plate marks. - Designed Cover. _Cloth gilt, gilt top, headband. In Box. 7s. 6d. - net._ - - JOUBERT, JOSEPH. Joubert: A Selection from His Thoughts. Translated by - Katharine Lyttleton, with a Preface by Mrs Humphry Ward. New - Edition. In a slip case. _Large cr. 8vo. 5s. net._ - - KROPOTKIN, PRINCE. Ideals and Realities in Russian Literature. - Critical Essays. By Prince Kropotkin. _Demy 8vo. 7s. 6d. net._ - - LANGLOIS, CH. V., AND SEIGNOBOS, CH. An Introduction to the Study of - History. New Edition. _5s. net._ - - LAWRENCE, D. H. Love Poems and others. _Cr. 8vo. 5s. net._ - - LE GALLIENNE, RICHARD. Odes from the Divan of Hafiz. Freely rendered - from Literal Translations. _Large sq. 8vo._ In slip case. _7s. 6d. - net._ - - LETHABY, W. R. Westminster Abbey and the King’s Craftsmen. With 125 - illustrations, photogravure frontispiece, and many drawings and - diagrams. _Royal 8vo. 12s. 6d. net._ - - —— Westminster Abbey as a Coronation Church. Illustrated. _Demy 8vo. - 2s. 6d. net._ - - _See also The Library of Art for “Mediæval Art” by W. R. Lethaby._ - - LOVELAND, J. D. E. The Romance of Nice. A Descriptive Account of Nice - and its History. With illustrations. _Demy 8vo. 6s. net._ - - LYTTON, THE HON. MRS NEVILLE. Toy Dogs and their Ancestors. With 300 - illustrations in colour collotype, photogravure, and half-tone. - _4to. 30s. net._ - - MAHAFFY, R. P. Francis Joseph the First: His Life and Times. By R. P. - Mahaffy. _Cr. 8vo. 2s. 6d. net._ - - MAHOMMED, MIRZA, AND RICE, C. SPRING. Valeh and Hadijeh. _Large sq. - 8vo. 5s. net._ - - MANTZIUS, KARL. A History of Theatrical Art in Ancient and Modern - Times. With Introduction by William Archer. In six volumes. With - illustrations from photographs. _Royal 8vo. 10s. net each vol._ - - Vol. I.—The Earliest Times. Vol. II.—Middle Ages and Renaissance. - Vol. III.—Shakespeare and the English Drama of his Time. Vol. - IV.—Molière and his Time. Vol. V.—Great Actors of the 18th - Century. Vol. VI.—_In preparation._ - - MARCZALI, HENRY. The Letters and Journal, 1848–49, of Count Charles - Leiningen-Westerburg. _Demy 8vo. 7s. 6d. net._ - - MARJORAM, JOHN. New Poems. _Fcap. 8vo. 2s. net._ - - MOORE, T. STURGE. Poems. _Square 8vo. Sewed. 1s. net a volume._ - - THE CENTAUR’S BOOTY. - THE ROUT OF THE AMAZONS. - THE GAZELLES, AND OTHER POEMS. - PAN’S PROPHECY. - TO LEDA, AND OTHER ODES. - THESEUS, AND OTHER ODES. - - Or, in one volume, _bound in art linen. 6s. net._ - - —— A Sicilian Idyll, and Judith. _Cloth. 2s. net._ - - —— Mariamne. A Drama. _Qr. bound. 2s. net._ - - NEVILL, RALPH, AND JERNINGHAM, C. E. Piccadilly to Pall Mall. - Manners, Morals, and Man. With 2 photogravures. _Demy 8vo. 12s. 6d. - net._ - - NEVILL, RALPH. Sporting Days and Sporting Ways. With coloured - frontispiece. _Demy 8vo. 12s. 6d. net._ - - —— The Merry Past. Reminiscences and Anecdotes. With frontispiece in - colour collotype. _Demy 8vo. 12s. 6d. net._ - - PAWLOWSKA, YOÏ (Mrs Buckley). A Year of Strangers. Sketches of - People and Things in Italy and in the Far East. With copper-plate - frontispiece. _Demy 8vo. 5s. net._ - - _See under Novels for another book by this author._ - - PEAKE, Prof. A. S. Christianity, its Nature and its Truth. _25th - Thousand. Cr. 8vo. 2s. 6d. net._ - - PHILLIPPS, L. MARCH. The Works of Man. Studies of race - characteristics as revealed in the creative art of the world. _Cr. - 8vo. 7s. 6d. net._ - - PLAYS, MODERN. _Cloth. 2s. net a volume._ - - THE REVOLT AND THE ESCAPE. By Villiers de L’Isle Adam. - HERNANI. A Tragedy. By Frederick Brock. - TRISTRAM AND ISEULT. A Drama. By J. Comyns Carr. - PASSERS-BY. By C. Haddon Chambers. - THE LIKENESS OF THE NIGHT. By Mrs W. K. Clifford. - THE SILVER BOX. By John Galsworthy. - JOY. By John Galsworthy. - STRIFE. By John Galsworthy. - JUSTICE. By John Galsworthy. - THE ELDEST SON. By John Galsworthy. - THE LITTLE DREAM. By John Galsworthy. (_1s. 6d. net._) - THE PIGEON. By John Galsworthy. - THE COMING OF PEACE. By Gerhart Hauptmann. - LOVE’S COMEDY. By Henrik Ibsen. - THE DIVINE GIFT. A Play. By Henry Arthur Jones. With an Introduction - and a Portrait. (_3s. 6d. net._) - PETER’S CHANCE. A Play. By Edith Lyttelton. - THE SECRET WOMAN. A Drama. By Eden Phillpots. - CURTAIN RAISERS. One Act Plays. By Eden Phillpots. - THE FATHER. By August Strindberg. - CREDITORS. PARIAH. Two Plays. By August Strindberg. - MISS JULIA. THE STRONGER. Two Plays. By August Strindberg. - THERE ARE CRIMES AND CRIMES. By August Strindberg. - ROSES. Four One Act Plays. By Hermann Sudermann. - MORITURI. Three One Act Plays. By Hermann Sudermann. - FIVE LITTLE PLAYS. By Alfred Sutro. - THE DAWN (Les Aubes). By Emile Verhaeren. Translated by Arthur - Symons. - THE PRINCESS OF HANOVER. By Margaret L. Woods. - - The following may also be had in paper covers. Price _1s. 6d. net a - volume._ - - TRISTRAM AND ISEULT. By J. Comyns Carr. (_Paper boards._) - PASSERS-BY. By C. Haddon Chambers. - THE LIKENESS OF THE NIGHT. By Mrs W. K. Clifford. - THE SILVER BOX. By John Galsworthy. - JOY. By John Galsworthy. - STRIFE. By John Galsworthy. - JUSTICE. By John Galsworthy. - THE ELDEST SON. By John Galsworthy. - THE LITTLE DREAM. By John Galsworthy. (_1s. net._) - THE PIGEON. By John Galsworthy. - PETER’S CHANCE. By Edith Lyttelton. - CURTAIN RAISERS. By Eden Phillpotts. - THE SECRET WOMAN. A Censored Drama. By Eden Phillpotts. - FIVE LITTLE PLAYS. By Alfred Sutro. - - PLAYS. By Bjornstjerne Bjornson. (The Gauntlet, Beyond our Power, - The New System.) With an Introduction and Bibliography. In one vol. - _Cr. 8vo. 6s._ - - THREE PLAYS. By Mrs W. K. Clifford. (Hamilton’s Second Marriage, - Thomas and the Princess, The Modern Way.) In one vol. _Sq. post 8vo. - 6s._ - - PLAYS (Volume One). By John Galsworthy. Three Plays (Joy, Strife, - The Silver Box) in one vol. _Post 8vo. 6s._ - - PLAYS (Volume Two). By John Galsworthy. Three Plays (Justice, The - Little Dream, The Eldest Son) in one vol. _Small sq. post 8vo. 6s._ - - PLAYS. (First Series.) By August Strindberg. (The Dream Play, The - Link, The Dance of Death, Part I.; The Dance of Death, Part II.) In - one vol. _Cr. 8vo. 6s._ - - PLAYS. (Second Series.) By August Strindberg. (Creditors, Pariah, - There are Crimes and Crimes, Miss Julia, The Stronger.) In one - volume. _6s._ - - PLAYS. (Third Series.) By August Strindberg. (Advent, Simoom, Swan - White, Debit and Credit, The Spook Sonata, The Black Glove.) _Cr. - 8vo. 6s._ - - PLAYS. By Anton Tchekoff. (Uncle Vanya, Ivanoff, The Seagull, The - Swan Song.) With an Introduction. _Cr. 8vo. 6s._ - - REID, STUART J. Sir Richard Tangye. A Life. With a portrait. Cheaper - re-issue. _Cr. 8vo. 2s. 6d. net._ - - ROADMENDER SERIES, THE. The volumes in the series are works with the - same tendency as Michael Fairless’s remarkable book, from which the - series gets its name: books which express a deep feeling for Nature, - and a mystical interpretation of life. _Fcap. 8vo, with designed end - papers. 2s. 6d. net._ - - WOMEN OF THE COUNTRY. By Gertrude Bone. - THE SEA CHARM OF VENICE. By Stopford A. Brooke. - MAGIC CASEMENTS. By Arthur S. Cripps. - THOUGHTS OF LEONARDO DA VINCI. Selected by Edward McCurdy. - THE ROADMENDER. By Michael Fairless. Also in _limp lambskin, 3s. 6d. - Velvet calf yapp, 5s. net._ Illustrated Black and White Edition, - _cr. 8vo, 5s. net_. Also Special Illustrated edition in colour - from oil paintings by E. W. Waite, _7s. 6d. net._ Edition de - Luxe, _15s. net_. - THE GATHERING OF BROTHER HILARIUS. By Michael Fairless. Also _limp - lambskin, 3s. 6d. net. Velvet calf yapp, 5s. net._ - THE GREY BRETHREN. By Michael Fairless. Also _limp lambskin, 3s. 6d. - net. Velvet calf yapp, 5s. net._ - MICHAEL FAIRLESS: LIFE AND WRITINGS. By W. Scott Palmer and A. M. - Haggard. - A MODERN MYSTIC’S WAY. (Dedicated to Michael Fairless.) - FROM THE FOREST. By Wm. Scott Palmer. - PILGRIM MAN. By Wm. Scott Palmer. - WINTER AND SPRING. By W. Scott Palmer. - VAGROM MEN. By A. T. Story. - LIGHT AND TWILIGHT. By Edward Thomas. - REST AND UNREST. By Edward Thomas. - ROSE ACRE PAPERS: including HORÆ SOLITARIÆ. By Edward Thomas. - - ROSEN, ERWIN. In the Foreign Legion. A record of actual experiences - in the French Foreign Legion. _Demy 8vo._ New and Cheaper Edition. - _3s. 6d. net._ - - SOCIAL QUESTIONS SERIES. - - MAKERS OF OUR CLOTHES. A Case for Trade Boards. By Miss Clementina - Black and Lady Carl Meyer. _Demy 8vo. 5s. net._ - - SWEATED INDUSTRY AND THE MINIMUM WAGE. By Clementina BLACK. With - Preface by A. G. Gardiner. _Cloth, crown 8vo. 2s. net._ - - WOMEN IN INDUSTRY: FROM SEVEN POINTS OF VIEW. With Introduction by - D. J. Shackleton. _Cloth, crown 8vo. 2s. net._ - - THE WORKER’S HANDBOOK. By Gertrude M. Tuckwell. A handbook of - legal and general information for the Clergy for District - Visitors, and all Social Workers. _Cr. 8vo. 2s. net._ - - - - - READERS’ LIBRARY, THE. - - _Copyright Works of Individual Merit and Permanent Value by Authors of - Repute._ - - Library style. _Cr. 8vo. Blue cloth gilt, round backs. 2s. 6d. net a - volume._ - - - AVRIL. By Hilaire Belloc. Essays on the Poetry of the French - Renaissance. - - ESTO PERPETUA. By Hilaire Belloc. Algerian Studies and Impressions. - - MEN, WOMEN, AND BOOKS: RES JUDICATÆ. By Augustine Birrell. Complete in - one vol. - - OBITER DICTA. By Augustine Birrell. First and Second Series in one - volume. - - MEMOIRS OF A SURREY LABOURER. By George Bourne. - - THE BETTESWORTH BOOK. By George Bourne. - - STUDIES IN POETRY. By Stopford A. Brooke, LL.D. Essays on Blake, - Scott, Shelley, Keats, etc. - - FOUR POETS. By Stopford A. Brooke, LL.D. Essays on Clough, Arnold, - Rossetti, and Morris. - - COMPARATIVE STUDIES IN NURSERY RHYMES. By Lina Eckenstein. Essays in a - branch of Folk-lore. - - ITALIAN POETS SINCE DANTE. Critical Essays. By W. Everett. - - VILLA RUBEIN, AND OTHER STORIES. By John Galsworthy. - - FAITH AND OTHER SKETCHES. By R. B. Cunninghame Graham. - - PROGRESS, AND OTHER SKETCHES. By R. B. Cunninghame Graham. - - SUCCESS: AND OTHER SKETCHES. By R. B. Cunninghame Grahame. - - A CRYSTAL AGE: a Romance of the Future. By W. H. Hudson. - - GREEN MANSIONS. A Romance of the Tropical Forest. By W. H. Hudson. - - THE PURPLE LAND. By W. H. Hudson. - - THE HEART OF THE COUNTRY. By Ford Madox Hueffer. - - THE SOUL OF LONDON. By Ford Madox Hueffer. - - THE SPIRIT OF THE PEOPLE. By Ford Madox Hueffer. - - AFTER LONDON—WILD ENGLAND. By Richard Jefferies. - - AMARYLLIS AT THE FAIR. By Richard Jefferies. - - BEVIS. The Story of a Boy. By Richard Jefferies. - - THE HILLS AND THE VALE. Nature Essays. By Richard Jefferies. - - THE GREATEST LIFE. An inquiry into the foundations of character. By - Gerald Leighton, M.D. - - ST AUGUSTINE AND HIS AGE. An Interpretation. By Joseph McCabe. - - BETWEEN THE ACTS. By H. W. Nevinson. - - ESSAYS. By Coventry Patmore. - - ESSAYS IN FREEDOM. By H. W. Nevinson. - - PARALLEL PATHS. A Study in Biology, Ethics, and Art. By T. W. - Rolleston. - - THE STRENUOUS LIFE, AND OTHER ESSAYS. By Theodore Roosevelt. - - ENGLISH LITERATURE AND SOCIETY IN THE EIGHTEENTH CENTURY. By Sir - Leslie Stephen. - - STUDIES OF A BIOGRAPHER. First Series. Two Volumes. By Sir Leslie - Stephen. - - STUDIES OF A BIOGRAPHER. Second Series. Two Volumes. By Sir Leslie - Stephen. - - INTERLUDES. By Sir Geo. Trevelyan. - - ESSAYS ON DANTE. By Dr Carl Witte. - - DUCKWORTH’S SHILLING NET SERIES. _Cloth, cr. 8vo._ - - CALIBAN’S GUIDE TO LETTERS. By Hilaire Belloc. - THE BRASSBOUNDER: a Tale of Seamen’s Life in Sailing Ship. By David - W. Bone. - WRACK: a Story of Salvage Work at Sea. By Maurice Drake. - SOUTH AMERICAN SKETCHES. By W. H. Hudson. - STORIES FROM DE MAUPASSANT. - SUCCESS. By R. B. Cunninghame Graham. - - SMALLEY, GEORGE W. Anglo-American Memories. First Series (American). - With a photogravure frontispiece. _Demy 8vo. 12s. 6d. net._ - - —— Second Series (English). _Demy 8vo. 12s. 6d. net._ - - SPIELMANN, Mrs M. H., and WILHELM, C. The Child of the Air. A Romantic - Fantasy. Illustrated in colour and in line. _Sq. cr. 8vo. 5s. net_ - - STEPHEN, H. L. State Trials: Political and Social First Series. - Selected and edited by H. L. Stephen. With two photogravures. Two - vols. _Fcap. 8vo. Art vellum, gilt top. 5s. net._ - - Vol. I.—Sir Walter Raleigh—Charles I.—The Regicides—Colonel Turner - and Others—The Suffolk Witches—Alice Lisle. Vol. II.—Lord - Russell—The Earl of Warwick—Spencer Cowper and Others—Samuel - Goodere and Others. - - —— State Trials: Political and Social. Second Series. Selected and - edited by H. L. Stephen. With two photogravures. Two vols. _Fcap. - 8vo. 5s. net._ - - Vol. I.—The Earl of Essex—Captain Lee—John Perry—Green - and Others—Count Coningsmark—Beau Fielding. Vol. - II.—Annesley—Carter—Macdaniell—Bernard—Byron. - - STOPFORD, FRANCIS. Life’s Great Adventure. Essays. By Francis - Stopford, author of “The Toil of Life.” _Cr. 8vo. Cloth. 5s. net._ - - - STUDIES IN THEOLOGY. - - A New Series of Handbooks, being aids to interpretation in Biblical - Criticism for the use of the Clergy, Divinity Students, and Laymen. - _Cr. 8vo. 2s. 6d. net a volume._ - - THE CHRISTIAN HOPE. A Study in the Doctrine of the Last Things. By - W. Adams Brown, D.D., Professor of Theology in the Union - College, New York. - - CHRISTIANITY AND SOCIAL QUESTIONS. By the Rev. William Cunningham, - D.D., F.B.A., Archdeacon of Ely. Formerly Lecturer on Economic - History to Harvard University. - - A HANDBOOK OF CHRISTIAN APOLOGETICS. By the Rev. Alfred Ernest - Garvie, M.A., Hon. D.D., Glasgow University, Principal of New - College, Hampstead. - - A CRITICAL INTRODUCTION TO THE OLD TESTAMENT. By the Rev. George - Buchanan Gray, M.A., D.Litt. - - GOSPEL ORIGINS. A Study in the Synoptic Problem. By the Rev. W. W. - Holdsworth, M.A., Tutor in New Testament Language and - Literature, Handworth College, Birmingham. - - FAITH AND ITS PSYCHOLOGY. By the Rev. William R. Inge, D.D., Dean - of St Paul’s. - - PROTESTANT THOUGHT BEFORE KANT. By A. C. McGiffert, Ph.D., D.D., - of the Union Theological Seminary, New York. - - THE THEOLOGY OF THE GOSPELS. By the Rev. James Moffat, B.D., D.D., - of the U.F. Church of Scotland, sometime Jowett Lecturer in - London, author of “The Historical New Testament,” “Literary - Illustrations of the Bible,” etc. - - A HISTORY OF CHRISTIAN THOUGHT SINCE KANT. By the Rev. Edward - Caldwell Moore, D.D., Parkman Professor of Theology in the - University of Harvard, U.S.A. - - REVELATION AND INSPIRATION. By the Rev. James Orr, D.D., Professor - of Apologetics in the Theological College of the United Free - Church, Glasgow. - - A CRITICAL INTRODUCTION TO THE NEW TESTAMENT. By Arthur Samuel - Peake, D.D., Professor of Biblical Exegesis and Dean of the - Faculty of Theology, Victoria University, Manchester. - - PHILOSOPHY AND RELIGION. By the Rev. Hastings Rashdall, D.Litt. - (Oxon.), D.C.L. (Durham), F.B.A., Fellow and Tutor of New - College, Oxford. - - TEXT AND CANON OF THE NEW TESTAMENT. By Prof. Alexander Souter, - M.A., D.Litt., Professor of Humanity, Aberdeen University. - - CHRISTIAN THOUGHT TO THE REFORMATION. By Herbert B. Workman, - D.Litt., Principal of the Westminster Training College. - - * * * * * - - TOMLINSON, H. M. The Sea and the Jungle. Personal experiences in a - voyage to South America and through the Amazon forests. By H. M. - Tomlinson. _Demy 8vo. 7s. 6d. net._ - - TOSELLI, ENRICO. Memoirs of the Husband of an Ex-Crown Princess. By - Enrico Toselli (Husband of the Ex-Crown Princess of Saxony). With a - portrait. _Cloth gilt, gilt top. Demy 8vo. 10s. 6d. net._ - - VAUGHAN, HERBERT M. The Last Stuart Queen: Louise, Countess of - Albany. A Life. With illustrations and portraits. _Demy 8vo. 16s. - net._ - - WAERN, CECILIA. Mediæval Sicily. Aspects of Life and Art in the - Middle Ages. With very many illustrations. _Royal 8vo. 12s. 6d. - net._ - - WAYNFLETE, ZACHARY. Considerations. Essays. Edited by Ian Malcolm, - M.P. _Cr. 8vo. Parchment yapp binding. 2s. 6d. net._ - - WILLIAMS, ALFRED. A Wiltshire Village. A Study of English Rural - Village Life. _Cr. 8vo. 5s. net._ - - —— Villages of the White House. _Cr. 8vo. 5s. net._ - - - NOVELS AND STORIES - - ANONYMOUS. The Diary of an English Girl. _Cr. 8vo. 6s._ - - BEHRENS, R. G. Pebble. A Novel. _Cr. 8vo. 6s._ - - BONE, DAVID W. The Brassbounder. A tale of seamen’s life in a sailing - ship. With illustrations by the Author. _Cr. 8vo. 6s._ Also _1s. - net_ edition. - - BONE, GERTRUDE. Provincial Tales. With frontispiece by Muirhead Bone. - _Cr. 8vo. 6s._ - - _See also Roadmender Series for another book by Mrs Bone._ - - BONE, MUIRHEAD and GERTRUDE. Children’s Children. A Tale. With 60 - drawings by Muirhead Bone. _Large Cr. 8vo. 6s. net._ [Vellum - Edition, limited to 250 copies, signed and numbered. _25s. net._] - - BROOKFIELD, CHAS. H. Jack Goldie: the Boy who knew best. Illustrated - by A. E. Jackson. _Cr. 8vo. 3s. 6d._ - - BROWN, VINCENT. A Magdalen’s Husband. A Novel. Fourth Impression. _Cr. - 8vo. 6s._ - - —— The Dark Ship. A Novel. _Cr. 8vo. 6s._ - - —— The Disciple’s Wife. A Novel. _Cr. 8vo. 6s._ - - —— The Sacred Cup. A Novel. _Cr. 8vo. 6s._ - - CALTHROP, DION CLAYTON. King Peter. A Novel. With a Frontispiece. _Cr. - 8vo. 6s._ - - _See also Duckworth’s Two Shilling Net Novels for another book by - Dion Clayton Calthrop._ - - CAUTLEY, C. HOLMES. The Weaving of the Shuttle. A Yorkshire Novel. - _Cr. 8vo. 6s._ - - CLIFFORD, Mrs W. K. Woodside Farm. A Novel. _Cr. 8vo. 6s._ - - CONNOLLY, J. B. Wide Courses: Tales of the Sea. Illustrated. _Cr. 8vo. - 6s._ - - _See also Duckworth’s Two Shilling Net Novels._ - - DAVIES, ERNEST. The Widow’s Necklace. A Tale. _Cr. 8vo. 6s._ - - DAVIES, W. H. Beggars. Personal Experiences of Tramp Life. _Cr. 8vo. - 6s._ - - —— A Weak Woman. A Novel. _Cr. 8vo. 6s._ - - —— The True Traveller. A Tramp’s Experiences. _Cr. 8vo. 6s._ - - DAVIS, RICHARD HARDING. Once upon a Time. Stories. Illustrated. _Cr. - 8vo. 6s._ - - —— The Man who could not Lose. Stories. Illustrated. _Cr. 8vo. 6s._ - - —— The Red Cross Girl. Stories. Illustrated. _Cr. 8vo. 6s._ - - DE SILVA, A. Rainbow Lights: Letters Descriptive of American and - Canadian Types. _Cr. 8vo. 6s._ - - DODGE, JANET. Tony Unregenerate. A Novel. _Cr. 8vo. 6s._ - - DRAKE, MAURICE. Wrack. A Tale of the Sea. _Cr. 8vo. 6s._ Also _1s. - net_ edition. - - EAST, H. CLAYTON. The Breath of the Desert. A Novel of Egypt. _Cr. - 8vo. 6s._ - - FEDDEN, Mrs ROMILLY. The Spare Room: An Extravaganza. _Cr. 8vo. 6s._ - - FILIPPI, ROSINA. Bernardine. A Novel. _Cr. 8vo. 6s._ - - FOGAZZARO, ANTONIO. The Poet’s Mystery. A Novel. _Cr. 8vo. 6s._ - - FORBES, LADY HELEN. It’s a Way they have in the Army. A Novel. _Cr. - 8vo. 6s._ - - —— The Bounty of the Gods. A Novel. - - —— The Polar Star. A Novel. _Cr. 8vo. 6s._ - - GARNETT, Mrs R. S. Amor Vincit. A Romance of the Staffordshire - Moorlands. _Cr. 8vo. 6s._ - - _See also Duckworth’s Two Shilling Net Novels for another Novel by - Mrs Garnett._ - - GARSHIN, W. The Signal, and other Stories. Translated from the - Russian. - - GLYN, ELINOR. Beyond the Rocks. A Love Story. _Cr. 8vo. 6s._ Also _1s. - net_ edition. - - —— Halcyone. A Novel. _Cr. 8vo. 6s._ - - —— His Hour. A Novel. With a photogravure frontispiece. _Cr. 8vo. 6s._ - Also _1s. net_ edition. - - —— The Vicissitudes of Evangeline. With Coloured Frontispiece. _Cr. - 8vo, 6s._ Also an edition in _paper covers_. _1s. net._ - - —— Reflections of Ambrosine. With Coloured Frontispiece. _Cr. 8vo. - 6s._ - - _See also Duckworth’s Two Shilling Net Novels._ - - —— Three Weeks. A Romance. With Coloured Frontispiece. _Cr. 8vo. 6s._ - - —— The Visits of Elizabeth. With Photogravure Frontispiece. _Cr. 8vo. - 6s._ Also _1s. net_ edition. - - GLYN, ELINOR. Elizabeth Visits America. With a Photogravure - Frontispiece. _Cr. 8vo. 6s._ - - _See also Duckworth’s Two Shilling Net Novels._ - - —— The Damsel and the Sage: A Woman’s Whimsies. With a Photogravure - Portrait. _Cr. 8vo._ In slip case. _5s. net._ - - —— Sayings of Grandmamma. From the Writings of Elinor Glyn. _Fcap. - 8vo._ With Photogravure Portrait. _Persian yapp. 2s. 6d. net. Also - in parchment. 1s. net._ - - —— The Reason Why. With Frontispiece in Colour. _Cr. 8vo. 6s._ - - —— The Contrast. Stories. - - —— The Sequence. A Novel. With a Frontispiece. - - GORKY, MAXIM. The Spy. A Tale. By Maxim Gorky. _Cr. 8vo. 6s._ - - —— Twenty-six Men and a Girl. Stories. _Cr. 8vo. Cloth. 2s. net._ - - HAYTER, ADRIAN. The Profitable Imbroglio. A Tale of Mystery. _Cr. 8vo. - 6s._ - - HOLMES, ARTHUR H. Twinkle. A Novel. _Cr. 8vo. 6s._ - - HORLICK, JITTIE. A String of Beads. A Novel. Illustrated in Colour. - _Cr. 8vo. 6s._ - - —— Jewels in Brass. A Novel. _Cr. 8vo. 6s._ - - JOHNSON, CECIL ROSS. The Trader: A Venture in New Guinea. A Novel. - _Cr. 8vo. 6s._ - - LAWRENCE, D. H. The Trespasser. A Novel. _Cr. 8vo. 6s._ - - —— Sons and Lovers. A Novel. _Cr. 8vo. 6s._ - - LIPSETT, E. R. Didy: The Story of an Irish Girl. _Cr. 8vo. 6s._ - - MACLAGAN, BRIDGET. The Mistress of Kingdoms. A Novel. _Cr. 8vo. 6s._ - - —— Collision: an Anglo-Indian Tale. _Cr. 8vo. 6s._ - - MAUD, CONSTANCE ELIZABETH. Angelique: le p’tit Chou. A Story. _Cr. - 8vo. 6s._ - - _See also Two Shilling Net Novels for another book by Miss Maud._ - - MAUPASSANT, GUY DE. Yvette, and other Stories. Translated by A. G. - _Cr. 8vo. 6s._ - - _See also Shilling Net Library for another volume of Maupassant._ - - MONKHOUSE, ALLAN. Dying Fires. A Novel. _Cr. 8vo. 6s._ - - NAPIER, ROSAMOND. The Faithful Failure. A Novel of the Open Air. _Cr. - 8vo. 6s._ - - —— The Heart of a Gypsy. A Novel. _Cr. 8vo. 6s._ - - NIKTO VERA. A Mere Woman. A Novel of Russian Society Life. _Cr. 8vo. - 6s._ - - PAWLOWSKA, YOÏ. Those that Dream. A Novel of Life in Rome To-day. _Cr. - 8vo. 6s._ - - PHAYRE, IGNATIUS. Love o’ the Skies. A Novel of North Africa. - - ROBERTS, HELEN. Old Brent’s Daughter. _Cr. 8vo. 6s._ - - —— Something New. A Novel. _Cr. 8vo. 6s._ - - SCHOFIELD, Mrs S. R. Elizabeth, Betsy, and Bess. A Tale. _Cr. 8vo. - 6s._ - - —— I Don’t Know. A “Psychic” Novel. _Cr. 8vo. 6s._ - - “SHWAY DINGA.” Wholly without Morals. A Novel of Indo-Burman Life. - _Cr. 8vo. 6s._ - - —— The Repentance of Destiny. A Novel. _Cr. 8vo. 6s._ - - TCHEKHOFF, ANTON. The Kiss: Stories. _Cr. 8vo. 6s._ - - TRAVERS, JOHN. Sahib Log. A Novel of Regimental Life in India. _Cr. - 8vo. 6s._ - - —— In the World of Bewilderment. A Novel. _Cr. 8vo. 6s._ - - TYLEE, E. S. The Witch Ladder. A Somerset Story. _Cr. 8vo. 6s._ - - VAUGHAN, OWEN (Owen Rhoscomyl). A Scout’s Story. A Tale of Adventure. - Illustrated. _Cr. 8vo. 2s. 6d._ - - —— Isle Raven. A Welsh Novel. _Cr. 8vo. 6s._ - - —— Old Fireproof: Being the Chaplain’s Story of Certain Events in the - South African War. _Cr. 8vo. 6s._ - - —— Sweet Rogues. A Romance. _Cr. 8vo. 6s._ - - _See also Duckworth’s Two Shilling Net Novels for another book by - Owen Vaughan._ - - DUCKWORTH’S SERIES OF POPULAR NOVELS. _2s. net._ - - THE PRODIGAL NEPHEW. By Bertram Atkey. - THE DANCE OF LOVE. By Dion Clayton Calthrop. - WOODSIDE FARM. By Mrs W. K. Clifford. - THE CRESTED SEAS. By James B. Conolly. Illustrated. - THE INFAMOUS JOHN FRIEND. By Mrs R. S. Garnett. - ELIZABETH VISITS AMERICA. By Elinor Glyn. - REFLECTIONS OF AMBROSINE. By Elinor Glyn. - A MOTOR-CAR DIVORCE. By Louise Hale. Illustrated. - NO SURRENDER. By Constance Elizabeth Maud. - THE SECRET KINGDOM. By Frank Richardson. - VRONINA. By Owen Vaughan. With Coloured Frontispiece. - - - - - BOOKS ON APPROVAL - - MESSRS DUCKWORTH & CO.’s Publications may be obtained through any good - bookseller. Anyone desiring to examine a volume should order it subject - to approval. The bookseller can obtain it from the publishers on this - condition. - - _The following Special Lists and Catalogues will be sent Post Free on - request to any address_:— - - - A GENERAL CATALOGUE OF PUBLICATIONS - - A COLOURED PROSPECTUS OF NEW ILLUSTRATED CHILDREN’S BOOKS - - A DESCRIPTIVE LIST OF “THE READERS’ LIBRARY” - - A DESCRIPTIVE LIST OF “THE LIBRARY OF ART” AND “THE POPULAR LIBRARY OF - ART” - - A DESCRIPTIVE LIST OF “THE CROWN LIBRARY” - - A DESCRIPTIVE LIST OF “THE SAINTS SERIES” - - A LIST OF THEOLOGICAL WORKS - - AND FULL PROSPECTUSES OF “THE ROADMENDER SERIES” AND “MODERN PLAYS” - - DUCKWORTH & COMPANY - - 3 HENRIETTA STREET, COVENT GARDEN, LONDON - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES - - - 1. Silently corrected obvious typographical errors and variations in - spelling. - 2. Retained archaic, non-standard, and uncertain spellings as printed. - 3. Enclosed italics font in _underscores_. - -*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK RUSSIAN SILHOUETTES *** - -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. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part -of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm -concept and trademark. Project Gutenberg is a registered trademark, -and may not be used if you charge for an eBook, except by following -the terms of the trademark license, including paying royalties for use -of the Project Gutenberg trademark. If you do not charge anything for -copies of this eBook, complying with the trademark license is very -easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose such as creation -of derivative works, reports, performances and research. Project -Gutenberg eBooks may be modified and printed and given away--you may -do practically ANYTHING in the United States with eBooks not protected -by U.S. copyright law. Redistribution is subject to the trademark -license, especially commercial redistribution. - -START: FULL LICENSE - -THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE -PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK - -To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free -distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work -(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project -Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full -Project Gutenberg-tm License available with this file or online at -www.gutenberg.org/license. - -Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic works - -1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to -and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property -(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all -the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or -destroy all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your -possession. If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a -Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound -by the terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the -person or entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph -1.E.8. - -1.B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be -used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who -agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few -things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works -even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See -paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this -agreement and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic works. See paragraph 1.E below. - -1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the -Foundation" or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection -of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual -works in the collection are in the public domain in the United -States. If an individual work is unprotected by copyright law in the -United States and you are located in the United States, we do not -claim a right to prevent you from copying, distributing, performing, -displaying or creating derivative works based on the work as long as -all references to Project Gutenberg are removed. Of course, we hope -that you will support the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting -free access to electronic works by freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm -works in compliance with the terms of this agreement for keeping the -Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with the work. You can easily -comply with the terms of this agreement by keeping this work in the -same format with its attached full Project Gutenberg-tm License when -you share it without charge with others. - -1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern -what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are -in a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, -check the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this -agreement before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, -distributing or creating derivative works based on this work or any -other Project Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no -representations concerning the copyright status of any work in any -country other than the United States. - -1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: - -1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other -immediate access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear -prominently whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work -on which the phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the -phrase "Project Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, -performed, viewed, copied or distributed: - - 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 will have to check the laws of the country where - you are located before using this eBook. - -1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is -derived from texts not protected by U.S. copyright law (does not -contain a notice indicating that it is posted with permission of the -copyright holder), the work can be copied and distributed to anyone in -the United States without paying any fees or charges. If you are -redistributing or providing access to a work with the phrase "Project -Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the work, you must comply -either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 or -obtain permission for the use of the work and the Project Gutenberg-tm -trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. - -1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted -with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution -must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any -additional terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms -will be linked to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works -posted with the permission of the copyright holder found at the -beginning of this work. - -1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm -License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this -work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. - -1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this -electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without -prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with -active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project -Gutenberg-tm License. - -1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, -compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including -any word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access -to or distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format -other than "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official -version posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm website -(www.gutenberg.org), you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense -to the user, provide a copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means -of obtaining a copy upon request, of the work in its original "Plain -Vanilla ASCII" or other form. Any alternate format must include the -full Project Gutenberg-tm License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. - -1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, -performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works -unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. - -1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing -access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works -provided that: - -* You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from - the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method - you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is owed - to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he has - agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the Project - Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments must be paid - within 60 days following each date on which you prepare (or are - legally required to prepare) your periodic tax returns. Royalty - payments should be clearly marked as such and sent to the Project - Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the address specified in - Section 4, "Information about donations to the Project Gutenberg - Literary Archive Foundation." - -* You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies - you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he - does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm - License. You must require such a user to return or destroy all - copies of the works possessed in a physical medium and discontinue - all use of and all access to other copies of Project Gutenberg-tm - works. - -* You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of - any money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the - electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days of - receipt of the work. - -* You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free - distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. - -1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic work or group of works on different terms than -are set forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing -from the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the manager of -the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark. Contact the Foundation as set -forth in Section 3 below. - -1.F. - -1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable -effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread -works not protected by U.S. copyright law in creating the Project -Gutenberg-tm collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may -contain "Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate -or corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other -intellectual property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or -other medium, a computer virus, or computer codes that damage or -cannot be read by your equipment. - -1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right -of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project -Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project -Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all -liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal -fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT -LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE -PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH 1.F.3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE -TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE -LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR -INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH -DAMAGE. - -1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a -defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can -receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a -written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you -received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium -with your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you -with the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in -lieu of a refund. If you received the work electronically, the person -or entity providing it to you may choose to give you a second -opportunity to receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If -the second copy is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing -without further opportunities to fix the problem. - -1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth -in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS', WITH NO -OTHER WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT -LIMITED TO WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTABILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. - -1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied -warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of -damages. If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement -violates the law of the state applicable to this agreement, the -agreement shall be interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or -limitation permitted by the applicable state law. The invalidity or -unenforceability of any provision of this agreement shall not void the -remaining provisions. - -1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the -trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone -providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in -accordance with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the -production, promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic works, harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, -including legal fees, that arise directly or indirectly from any of -the following which you do or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this -or any Project Gutenberg-tm work, (b) alteration, modification, or -additions or deletions to any Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any -Defect you cause. - -Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm - -Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of -electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of -computers including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It -exists because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations -from people in all walks of life. - -Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the -assistance they need are critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's -goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will -remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project -Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure -and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future -generations. To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation and how your efforts and donations can help, see -Sections 3 and 4 and the Foundation information page at -www.gutenberg.org - -Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation - -The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non-profit -501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the -state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal -Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification -number is 64-6221541. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent permitted by -U.S. federal laws and your state's laws. - -The Foundation's business office is located at 809 North 1500 West, -Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887. Email contact links and up -to date contact information can be found at the Foundation's website -and official page at www.gutenberg.org/contact - -Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg -Literary Archive Foundation - -Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without -widespread public support and donations to carry out its mission of -increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be -freely distributed in machine-readable form accessible by the widest -array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations -($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt -status with the IRS. - -The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating -charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United -States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a -considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up -with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations -where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To SEND -DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any particular -state visit www.gutenberg.org/donate - -While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we -have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition -against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who -approach us with offers to donate. - -International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make -any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from -outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. - -Please check the Project Gutenberg web pages for current donation -methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other -ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations. To -donate, please visit: www.gutenberg.org/donate - -Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works - -Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project -Gutenberg-tm concept of a library of electronic works that could be -freely shared with anyone. For forty years, he produced and -distributed Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of -volunteer support. - -Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed -editions, all of which are confirmed as not protected by copyright in -the U.S. unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not -necessarily keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper -edition. - -Most people start at our website which has the main PG search -facility: www.gutenberg.org - -This website includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, -including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to -subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. diff --git a/old/66790-0.zip b/old/66790-0.zip Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index e612b40..0000000 --- a/old/66790-0.zip +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/66790-h.zip b/old/66790-h.zip Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 2eae5b0..0000000 --- a/old/66790-h.zip +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/66790-h/66790-h.htm b/old/66790-h/66790-h.htm deleted file mode 100644 index a249668..0000000 --- a/old/66790-h/66790-h.htm +++ /dev/null @@ -1,12563 +0,0 @@ -<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" - "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> -<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> - <head> - <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=UTF-8" /> - <title>The Project Gutenberg eBook of Russian Silhouettes, by Anton Tchekoff</title> - <link rel="coverpage" href="images/cover.jpg" /> - <style type="text/css"> - body { margin-left: 8%; margin-right: 10%; } - h1 { text-align: center; font-weight: bold; font-size: xx-large; } - h2 { text-align: center; font-weight: bold; font-size: x-large; } - h3 { text-align: center; font-weight: bold; font-size: large; } - h4 { text-align: center; font-weight: bold; font-size: 1.0em; } - .pageno { right: 1%; font-size: x-small; background-color: inherit; color: silver; - text-indent: 0em; text-align: right; position: absolute; - border: thin solid silver; padding: .1em .2em; font-style: normal; - font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; } - p { text-indent: 0; margin-top: 0.5em; margin-bottom: 0.5em; text-align: justify; } - sup { vertical-align: top; font-size: 0.6em; } - .fss { font-size: 75%; } - .sc { font-variant: small-caps; } - .large { font-size: large; } - .xlarge { font-size: x-large; } - .small { font-size: small; } - .lg-container-b { text-align: center; } - .x-ebookmaker .lg-container-b { clear: both; } - .lg-container-r { text-align: right; } - .x-ebookmaker .lg-container-r { clear: both; } - .linegroup { display: inline-block; text-align: justify; } - .x-ebookmaker .linegroup { display: block; margin-left: 1.5em; } - .linegroup .group { margin: 1em auto; } - .linegroup .line { text-indent: -3em; padding-left: 3em; } - div.linegroup > :first-child { margin-top: 0; } - .linegroup .in12 { padding-left: 9.0em; } - .ol_1 li {padding-left: 1em; text-indent: -1em; } - ol.ol_1 {padding-left: 0; margin-left: 2.78%; margin-top: .5em; - margin-bottom: .5em; list-style-type: decimal; } - div.footnote > :first-child { margin-top: 1em; } - div.footnote p { text-indent: 1em; margin-top: 0.25em; margin-bottom: 0.25em; } - div.pbb { page-break-before: always; } - hr.pb { border: none; border-bottom: thin solid; margin-bottom: 1em; } - .x-ebookmaker hr.pb { display: none; } - .chapter { clear: both; page-break-before: always; } - .figcenter { clear: both; max-width: 100%; margin: 2em auto; text-align: center; } - .figcenter img { max-width: 100%; height: auto; } - .id001 { width:20%; } - .x-ebookmaker .id001 { margin-left:40%; width:20%; } - .ig001 { width:100%; } - .table0 { margin: auto; margin-top: 2em; } - .nf-center { text-align: center; } - .nf-center-c0 { text-align: justify; margin: 0.5em 0; } - p.drop-capa0_0_6 { text-indent: -0em; } - p.drop-capa0_0_6:first-letter { float: left; margin: 0.100em 0.100em 0em 0em; - font-size: 250%; line-height: 0.6em; text-indent: 0; } - .x-ebookmaker p.drop-capa0_0_6 { text-indent: 0; } - .x-ebookmaker p.drop-capa0_0_6:first-letter { float: none; margin: 0; font-size: 100%; } - .c000 { margin-top: 0.5em; margin-bottom: 0.5em; } - .c001 { page-break-before: always; margin-top: 4em; } - .c002 { margin-top: 2em; } - .c003 { margin-top: 1em; } - .c004 { margin-top: 4em; } - .c005 { page-break-before:auto; margin-top: 4em; } - .c006 { text-align: center; } - .c007 { vertical-align: top; text-align: justify; text-indent: -1em; - padding-left: 1em; padding-right: 1em; } - .c008 { vertical-align: top; text-align: right; } - .c009 { page-break-before: always; margin-top: 2em; } - .c010 { margin-top: 1em; margin-bottom: 0.25em; } - .c011 { text-indent: 1em; margin-top: 0.25em; margin-bottom: 0.25em; } - .c012 { margin-top: 1em; font-size: .9em; } - .c013 { text-indent: 0; margin-top: 0.25em; margin-bottom: 0.25em; } - .c014 { page-break-before: auto; margin-top: 2em; } - .c015 { margin-top: 1em; text-indent: 1em; margin-bottom: 0.25em; } - .c016 { font-size: .9em; text-indent: 1em; margin-top: 0.25em; - margin-bottom: 0.25em; } - .c017 { font-size: .9em; } - .c018 { text-decoration: none; } - .c019 { margin-left: 5.56%; text-indent: -2.78%; font-size: 90%; - margin-top: 0.25em; margin-bottom: 0.25em; } - .c020 { margin-left: 5.56%; margin-top: 1em; font-size: .9em; } - .c021 { margin-left: 11.11%; text-indent: -2.78%; font-size: 90%; - margin-top: 0.25em; margin-bottom: 0.25em; } - .c022 { margin-left: 5.56%; text-indent: 1em; margin-top: 0.25em; - margin-bottom: 0.25em; } - .c023 { margin-left: 5.56%; } - .c024 { margin-left: 5.56%; text-indent: -2.78%; margin-top: 2em; font-size: 90%; - margin-bottom: 0.25em; } - .c025 { border: none; border-bottom: thin solid; margin-top: 0.8em; - margin-bottom: 0.8em; margin-left: 35%; margin-right: 35%; width: 30%; } - div.tnotes { padding-left:1em;padding-right:1em;background-color:#E3E4FA; - border:thin solid silver; margin:2em 10% 0 10%; font-family: Georgia, serif; - } - .covernote { visibility: hidden; display: none; } - div.tnotes p { text-align: justify; } - .x-ebookmaker .covernote { visibility: visible; display: block; } - .figcenter {font-size: .9em; page-break-inside: avoid; max-width: 100%; } - .x-ebookmaker img {max-height: 31em; width: 100%; } - .footnote {font-size: .9em; } - div.footnote p {text-indent: 2em; margin-bottom: .5em; } - .chapter { clear: both; page-break-before: always; } - .ol_1 li {font-size: .9em; } - .x-ebookmaker .ol_1 li {padding-left: 1em; text-indent: 0em; } - body {font-family: Georgia, serif; text-align: justify; } - table {font-size: .9em; padding: 1.5em .5em 1em; page-break-inside: avoid; - clear: both; } - div.titlepage {text-align: center; page-break-before: always; - page-break-after: always; } - div.titlepage p {text-align: center; text-indent: 0em; font-weight: bold; - line-height: 1.5; margin-top: 3em; } - .ph2 { text-indent: 0em; font-weight: bold; font-size: x-large; margin: .75em auto; - page-break-before: always; } - .x-ebookmaker p.dropcap:first-letter { float: left; } - </style> - </head> - <body> -<p style='text-align:center; font-size:1.2em; font-weight:bold'>The Project Gutenberg eBook of Russian Silhouettes, by Anton Tchekoff</p> -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and -most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms -of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online -at <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. If you -are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the -country where you are located before using this eBook. -</div> - -<p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Title: Russian Silhouettes</p> -<p style='display:block; margin-left:2em; text-indent:0; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:1em;'>More Stories of Russian Life</p> - <p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Author: Anton Tchekoff</p> - <p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Translator: Marian Fell</p> -<p style='display:block; text-indent:0; margin:1em 0'>Release Date: November 21, 2021 [eBook #66790]</p> -<p style='display:block; text-indent:0; margin:1em 0'>Language: English</p> - <p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em; text-align:left'>Produced by: Richard Tonsing, MFR and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images generously made available by The Internet Archive)</p> -<div style='margin-top:2em; margin-bottom:4em'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK RUSSIAN SILHOUETTES ***</div> - -<div> - -<p class='c000'><strong>Transcriber’s Note:</strong></p> - -<p class='c000'>The cover image was created by the transcriber and is placed in the public domain.</p> - -</div> - -<div> - <h1 class='c001'>RUSSIAN SILHOUETTES<br /> <span class='large'>MORE STORIES OF RUSSIAN LIFE</span></h1> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> -<div class='nf-center c002'> - <div>BY</div> - <div><span class='xlarge'>ANTON TCHEKOFF</span></div> - <div class='c003'><span class='small'>TRANSLATED FROM THE RUSSIAN BY</span></div> - <div><span class='large'>MARIAN FELL</span></div> - <div class='c002'>LONDON</div> - <div>DUCKWORTH & CO.</div> - <div>1915</div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> -<div class='nf-center c004'> - <div><span class='small'>Copyright, 1915, by Charles Scribner’s Sons, for the</span></div> - <div><span class='small'>United States of America</span></div> - <div class='c003'><span class='small'>Printed by the Scribner Press</span></div> - <div><span class='small'>New York, U. S. A.</span></div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='chapter'> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_v'>v</span> - <h2 class='c005'>CONTENTS</h2> -</div> - -<table class='table0' summary='CONTENTS'> - <tr><td class='c006' colspan='2'>STORIES OF CHILDHOOD</td></tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr> - <th class='c007'></th> - <th class='c008'><span class='small'>PAGE</span></th> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class='c007'><span class='sc'>The Boys</span></td> - <td class='c008'><a href='#Page_3'>3</a></td> - </tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr> - <td class='c007'><span class='sc'>Grisha</span></td> - <td class='c008'><a href='#Page_14'>14</a></td> - </tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr> - <td class='c007'><span class='sc'>A Trifle from Real Life</span></td> - <td class='c008'><a href='#Page_20'>20</a></td> - </tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr> - <td class='c007'><span class='sc'>The Cook’s Wedding</span></td> - <td class='c008'><a href='#Page_29'>29</a></td> - </tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr> - <td class='c007'><span class='sc'>Shrove Tuesday</span></td> - <td class='c008'><a href='#Page_38'>38</a></td> - </tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr> - <td class='c007'><span class='sc'>In Passion Week</span></td> - <td class='c008'><a href='#Page_46'>46</a></td> - </tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr> - <td class='c007'><span class='sc'>An Incident</span></td> - <td class='c008'><a href='#Page_54'>54</a></td> - </tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr> - <td class='c007'><span class='sc'>A Matter of Classics</span></td> - <td class='c008'><a href='#Page_63'>63</a></td> - </tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr> - <td class='c007'><span class='sc'>The Tutor</span></td> - <td class='c008'><a href='#Page_68'>68</a></td> - </tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr> - <td class='c007'><span class='sc'>Out of Sorts</span></td> - <td class='c008'><a href='#Page_73'>73</a></td> - </tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr><td class='c006' colspan='2'>STORIES OF YOUTH</td></tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr> - <td class='c007'><span class='sc'>A Joke</span></td> - <td class='c008'><a href='#Page_79'>79</a></td> - </tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr> - <td class='c007'><span class='sc'>After the Theatre</span></td> - <td class='c008'><a href='#Page_86'>86</a></td> - </tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr> - <td class='c007'><span class='sc'>Volodia</span></td> - <td class='c008'><a href='#Page_91'>91</a></td> - </tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr> - <td class='c007'><span class='sc'>A Naughty Boy</span></td> - <td class='c008'><a href='#Page_111'>111</a></td> - </tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr> - <td class='c007'><span class='sc'>Bliss</span></td> - <td class='c008'><a href='#Page_115'>115</a></td> - </tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr> - <td class='c007'><span class='sc'>Two Beautiful Girls</span></td> - <td class='c008'><a href='#Page_119'>119</a></td> - </tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr><td class='c006' colspan='2'><span class='pageno' id='Page_vi'>vi</span>LIGHT AND SHADOW</td></tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr> - <td class='c007'><span class='sc'>The Chorus Girl</span></td> - <td class='c008'><a href='#Page_135'>135</a></td> - </tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr> - <td class='c007'><span class='sc'>The Father of a Family</span></td> - <td class='c008'><a href='#Page_144'>144</a></td> - </tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr> - <td class='c007'><span class='sc'>The Orator</span></td> - <td class='c008'><a href='#Page_151'>151</a></td> - </tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr> - <td class='c007'><span class='sc'>Ionitch</span></td> - <td class='c008'><a href='#Page_157'>157</a></td> - </tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr> - <td class='c007'><span class='sc'>At Christmas Time</span></td> - <td class='c008'><a href='#Page_187'>187</a></td> - </tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr> - <td class='c007'><span class='sc'>In the Coach House</span></td> - <td class='c008'><a href='#Page_195'>195</a></td> - </tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr> - <td class='c007'><span class='sc'>Lady N——’s Story</span></td> - <td class='c008'><a href='#Page_205'>205</a></td> - </tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr> - <td class='c007'><span class='sc'>A Journey by Cart</span></td> - <td class='c008'><a href='#Page_212'>212</a></td> - </tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr> - <td class='c007'><span class='sc'>The Privy Councillor</span></td> - <td class='c008'><a href='#Page_227'>227</a></td> - </tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr> - <td class='c007'><span class='sc'>Rothschild’s Fiddle</span></td> - <td class='c008'><a href='#Page_255'>255</a></td> - </tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr> - <td class='c007'><span class='sc'>A Horsey Name</span></td> - <td class='c008'><a href='#Page_272'>272</a></td> - </tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr> - <td class='c007'><span class='sc'>The Petcheneg</span></td> - <td class='c008'><a href='#Page_278'>278</a></td> - </tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr> - <td class='c007'><span class='sc'>The Bishop</span></td> - <td class='c008'><a href='#Page_295'>295</a></td> - </tr> -</table> - -<div class='chapter'> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_1'>1</span> - <h2 class='c005'>STORIES OF CHILDHOOD</h2> -</div> - -<div> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_3'>3</span> - <h3 class='c009'>THE BOYS</h3> -</div> - -<p class='drop-capa0_0_6 c010'>“Volodia is here!” cried some one in the courtyard.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Voloditchka is here!” shrieked Natalia, rushing -into the dining-room.</p> - -<p class='c011'>The whole family ran to the window, for they had -been expecting their Volodia for hours. At the front -porch stood a wide posting sleigh with its troika of -white horses wreathed in dense clouds of steam. The -sleigh was empty because Volodia was already standing -in the front entry untying his hood with red, frostbitten -fingers. His schoolboy’s uniform, his overcoat, -his cap, his goloshes, and the hair on his temples were -all silvery with frost, and from his head to his feet he -exhaled such a wholesome atmosphere of cold that -one shivered to be near him. His mother and aunt -rushed to kiss and embrace him. Natalia fell down -at his feet and began pulling off his goloshes. His -sisters shrieked, doors creaked and banged on every -side, and his father came running into the hall in his -shirt-sleeves waving a pair of scissors and crying in -alarm:</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Is anything the matter? We expected you yesterday. -Did you have a good journey? For heaven’s -sake, give him a chance to kiss his own father!”</p> - -<p class='c011'><span class='pageno' id='Page_4'>4</span>“Bow, wow, wow!” barked the great black dog, -My Lord, in a deep voice, banging the walls and furniture -with his tail.</p> - -<p class='c011'>All these noises went to make up one great, joyous -clamour that lasted several minutes. When the first -burst of joy had subsided the family noticed that, -beside Volodia, there was still another small person -in the hall. He was wrapped in scarfs and shawls and -hoods and was standing motionless in the shadow cast -by a huge fox-skin coat.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Volodia, who is that?” whispered Volodia’s mother.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Good gracious!” Volodia exclaimed recollecting -himself. “Let me present my friend Tchetchevitsin. -I have brought him from school to stay with us.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“We are delighted to see you! Make yourself at -home!” cried the father gaily. “Excuse my not having -a coat on! Allow me!—Natalia, help Mr. Tcherepitsin -to take off his things! For heaven’s sake, take that -dog away! This noise is too awful!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>A few minutes later Volodia and his friend were sitting -in the dining-room drinking tea, dazed by their -noisy reception and still rosy with cold. The wintry -rays of the sun, piercing the frost and snow on the -window-panes, trembled over the samovar and bathed -themselves in the slop-basin. The room was warm, -and the boys felt heat and cold jostling one another in -their bodies, neither wanting to concede its place to -the other.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Well, Christmas will soon be here!” cried Volodia’s -<span class='pageno' id='Page_5'>5</span>father, rolling a cigarette. “Has it seemed long since -your mother cried as she saw you off last summer? -Time flies, my son! Old age comes before one has -time to heave a sigh. Mr. Tchibisoff, do help yourself! -We don’t stand on ceremony here!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Volodia’s three sisters, Katia, Sonia, and Masha, -the oldest of whom was eleven, sat around the table -with their eyes fixed on their new acquaintance. -Tchetchevitsin was the same age and size as Volodia, -but he was neither plump nor fair like him. He was -swarthy and thin and his face was covered with freckles. -His hair was bristly, his eyes were small, and his lips -were thick; in a word, he was very plain, and, had it -not been for his schoolboy’s uniform, he might have -been taken for the son of a cook. He was taciturn -and morose, and he never once smiled. The girls immediately -decided that he must be a very clever and learned -person. He seemed to be meditating something, and -was so busy with his own thoughts that he started -if he were asked a question and asked to have it repeated.</p> - -<p class='c011'>The girls noticed that Volodia, who was generally -so talkative and gay, seldom spoke now and never -smiled and on the whole did not seem glad to be at -home. He only addressed his sisters once during -dinner and then his remark was strange. He pointed -to the samovar and said:</p> - -<p class='c011'>“In California they drink gin instead of tea.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>He, too, seemed to be busy with thoughts of his -<span class='pageno' id='Page_6'>6</span>own, and, to judge from the glances that the two -boys occasionally exchanged, their thoughts were -identical.</p> - -<p class='c011'>After tea the whole family went into the nursery, -and papa and the girls sat down at the table and -took up some work which they had been doing when -they were interrupted by the boys’ arrival. They -were making decorations out of coloured paper for the -Christmas tree. It was a thrilling and noisy occupation. -Each new flower was greeted by the girls with -shrieks of ecstasy, of terror almost, as if it had dropped -from the sky. Papa, too, was in raptures, but every -now and then he would throw down the scissors, exclaiming -angrily that they were blunt. Mamma came -running into the nursery with an anxious face and -asked:</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Who has taken my scissors? Have you taken my -scissors again, Ivan?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Good heavens, won’t she even let me have a pair -of scissors?” answered papa in a tearful voice, throwing -himself back in his chair with the air of a much-abused -man. But the next moment he was in raptures -again.</p> - -<p class='c011'>On former holidays Volodia had always helped with -the preparations for the Christmas tree, and had run -out into the yard to watch the coachman and the -shepherd heaping up a mound of snow, but this time -neither he nor Tchetchevitsin took any notice of the -coloured paper, neither did they once visit the stables. -<span class='pageno' id='Page_7'>7</span>They sat by a window whispering together, and then -opened an atlas and fell to studying it.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“First, we must go to Perm,” whispered Tchetchevitsin. -“Then to Tyumen, then to Tomsk, and then—then -to Kamschatka. From there the Eskimos will -take us across Behring Strait in their canoes, and -then—we shall be in America! There are a great -many wild animals there.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Where is California?” asked Volodia.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“California is farther down. If once we can get to -America, California will only be round the corner. -We can make our living by hunting and highway -robbery.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>All day Tchetchevitsin avoided the girls, and, if he -met them, looked at them askance. After tea in the -evening he was left alone with them for five minutes. -To remain silent would have been awkward, so -he coughed sternly, rubbed the back of his right hand -with the palm of his left, looked severely at Katia, and -asked:</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Have you read Mayne Reid?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“No, I haven’t—But tell me, can you skate?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Tchetchevitsin became lost in thought once more -and did not answer her question. He only blew out -his cheeks and heaved a sigh as if he were very hot. -Once more he raised his eyes to Katia’s face and said:</p> - -<p class='c011'>“When a herd of buffalo gallop across the pampas -the whole earth trembles and the frightened mustangs -kick and neigh.”</p> - -<p class='c011'><span class='pageno' id='Page_8'>8</span>Tchetchevitsin smiled wistfully and added:</p> - -<p class='c011'>“And Indians attack trains, too. But worst of all -are the mosquitoes and the termites.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“What are they?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Termites look something like ants, only they have -wings. They bite dreadfully. Do you know who I -am?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“You are Mr. Tchetchevitsin!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“No, I am Montezuma Hawkeye, the invincible -chieftain.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Masha, the youngest of the girls, looked first at him -and then out of the window into the garden, where -night was already falling, and said doubtfully:</p> - -<p class='c011'>“We had Tchetchevitsa (lentils) for supper last night.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>The absolutely unintelligible sayings of Tchetchevitsin, -his continual whispered conversations with Volodia, -and the fact that Volodia never played now and was -always absorbed in thought—all this seemed to the -girls to be both mysterious and strange. Katia and -Sonia, the two oldest ones, began to spy on the boys, -and when Volodia and his friend went to bed that -evening, they crept to the door of their room and -listened to the conversation inside. Oh! what did -they hear? The boys were planning to run away to -America in search of gold! They were all prepared -for the journey and had a pistol ready, two knives, some -dried bread, a magnifying-glass for lighting fires, a -compass, and four roubles. The girls discovered that -the boys would have to walk several thousand miles, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_9'>9</span>fighting on the way with savages and tigers, and that -they would then find gold and ivory, and slay their -enemies. Next, they would turn pirates, drink gin, -and at last marry beautiful wives and settle down to -cultivate a plantation. Volodia and Tchetchevitsin both -talked at once and kept interrupting one another from -excitement. Tchetchevitsin called himself “Montezuma -Hawkeye,” and Volodia “my Paleface Brother.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Be sure you don’t tell mamma!” said Katia to -Sonia as they went back to bed. “Volodia will bring -us gold and ivory from America, but if you tell mamma -she won’t let him go!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Tchetchevitsin spent the day before Christmas Eve -studying a map of Asia and taking notes, while Volodia -roamed about the house refusing all food, his face -looking tired and puffy as if it had been stung by a bee. -He stopped more than once in front of the icon in the -nursery and crossed himself saying:</p> - -<p class='c011'>“O Lord, forgive me, miserable sinner! O Lord, -help my poor, unfortunate mother!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Toward evening he burst into tears. When he said -good night he kissed his father and mother and sisters -over and over again. Katia and Sonia realized the -significance of his actions, but Masha, the youngest, -understood nothing at all. Only when her eye fell -upon Tchetchevitsin did she grow pensive and say -with a sigh:</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Nurse says that when Lent comes we must eat -peas and Tchetchevitsa.”</p> - -<p class='c011'><span class='pageno' id='Page_10'>10</span>Early on Christmas Eve Katia and Sonia slipped -quietly out of bed and went to the boys’ room to see -them run away to America. They crept up to their -door.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“So you won’t go?” asked Tchetchevitsin angrily. -“Tell me, you won’t go?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Oh, dear!” wailed Volodia, weeping softly. “How -can I go? I’m so sorry for mamma!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Paleface Brother, I beg you to go! You promised -me yourself that you would. You told me yourself -how nice it would be. Now, when everything is ready, -you are afraid!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I—I’m not afraid. I—I am sorry for mamma.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Tell me, are you going or not?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I’m going, only—only wait a bit, I want to stay -at home a little while longer!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“If that is the case, I’ll go alone!” Tchetchevitsin -said with decision. “I can get along perfectly well -without you. I want to hunt and fight tigers! If you -won’t go, give me my pistol!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Volodia began to cry so bitterly that his sisters -could not endure the sound and began weeping softly -themselves. Silence fell.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Then you won’t go?” demanded Tchetchevitsin -again.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I—I’ll go.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Then get dressed!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>And to keep up Volodia’s courage, Tchetchevitsin -began singing the praises of America. He roared like a -<span class='pageno' id='Page_11'>11</span>tiger, he whistled like a steamboat, he scolded, and -promised to give Volodia all the ivory and gold they -might find.</p> - -<p class='c011'>The thin, dark boy with his bristling hair and his -freckles seemed to the girls to be a strange and wonderful -person. He was a hero to them, a man without -fear, who could roar so well that, through the closed -door, one might really mistake him for a tiger or a -lion.</p> - -<p class='c011'>When the girls were dressing in their own room, -Katia cried with tears in her eyes:</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Oh, I’m so frightened!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>All was quiet until the family sat down to dinner -at two o’clock, and then it suddenly appeared that -the boys were not in the house. Inquiries were made -in the servants’ quarters and at the stables, but they -were not there. A search was made in the village, but -they could not be found. At tea time they were still -missing, and when the family had to sit down to supper -without them, mamma was terribly anxious and was -even crying. That night another search was made -in the village and men were sent down to the river -with lanterns. Heavens, what an uproar arose!</p> - -<p class='c011'>Next morning the policeman arrived and went into -the dining-room to write something. Mamma was -crying.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Suddenly, lo and behold! a posting sleigh drove up -to the front door with clouds of steam rising from its -three white horses.</p> - -<p class='c011'><span class='pageno' id='Page_12'>12</span>“Volodia is here!” cried some one in the courtyard.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Voloditchka is here!” shrieked Natalia, rushing into -the dining-room.</p> - -<p class='c011'>My Lord barked “Bow, wow, wow!” in his deep -voice.</p> - -<p class='c011'>It seemed that the boys had been stopped at the -hotel in the town, where they had gone about asking -every one where they could buy gunpowder. As he -entered the hall, Volodia burst into tears and flung -his arms round his mother’s neck. The girls trembled -with terror at the thought of what would happen next, -for they heard papa call Volodia and Tchetchevitsin -into his study and begin talking to them. Mamma -wept and joined in the talk.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Do you think it was right?” papa asked, chiding -them. “I hope to goodness they won’t find it out at -school, because, if they do, you will certainly be expelled. -Be ashamed of yourself, Master Tchetchevitsin! -You are a bad boy. You are a mischief-maker and -your parents will punish you. Do you think it was -right to run away? Where did you spend the -night?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“In the station!” answered Tchetchevitsin proudly.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Volodia was put to bed, and a towel soaked in vinegar -was laid on his head. A telegram was despatched, -and next day a lady arrived, Tchetchevitsin’s mamma, -who took her son away.</p> - -<p class='c011'>As Tchetchevitsin departed his face looked haughty -<span class='pageno' id='Page_13'>13</span>and stern. He said not a word as he took his leave of -the girls, but in a copy-book of Katia’s he wrote these -words for remembrance:</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Montezuma Hawkeye.”</p> - -<div> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_14'>14</span> - <h3 class='c009'>GRISHA</h3> -</div> - -<p class='drop-capa0_0_6 c010'>Grisha, a chubby little boy born only two years -and eight months ago, was out walking on the -boulevard with his nurse. He wore a long, wadded -burnoose, a large cap with a furry knob, a muffler, and -wool-lined goloshes. He felt stuffy and hot, and, in -addition, the waxing sun of April was beating directly -into his face and making his eyelids smart.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Every inch of his awkward little figure, with its -timid, uncertain steps, bespoke a boundless perplexity.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Until that day the only universe known to Grisha -had been square. In one corner of it stood his crib, in -another stood nurse’s trunk, in the third was a chair, -and in the fourth a little icon lamp. If you looked -under the bed you saw a doll with one arm and a -drum; behind nurse’s trunk were a great many various -objects: a few empty spools, some scraps of paper, -a box without a lid, and a broken jumping-jack. In -this world, besides nurse and Grisha, there often appeared -mamma and the cat. Mamma looked like a -doll, and the cat looked like papa’s fur coat, only the -<span class='pageno' id='Page_15'>15</span>fur coat did not have eyes and a tail. From the world -which was called the nursery a door led to a place -where people dined and drank tea. There stood -Grisha’s high chair and there hung the clock made to -wag its pendulum and strike. From the dining-room -one could pass into another room with big red chairs; -there, on the floor, glowered a dark stain for which -people still shook their forefingers at Grisha. Still -farther beyond lay another room, where one was not -allowed to go, and in which one sometimes caught -glimpses of papa, a very mysterious person! The -functions of mamma and nurse were obvious: they -dressed Grisha, fed him, and put him to bed; but why -papa should be there was incomprehensible. Aunty -was also a puzzling person. She appeared and disappeared. -Where did she go? More than once -Grisha had looked for her under the bed, behind the -trunk, and under the sofa, but she was not to be -found.</p> - -<p class='c011'>In the new world where he now found himself, where -the sun dazzled one’s eyes, there were so many papas -and mammas and aunties that one scarcely knew which -one to run to. But the funniest and oddest things of -all were the horses. Grisha stared at their moving legs -and could not understand them at all. He looked up -at nurse, hoping that she might help him to solve the -riddle, but she answered nothing.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Suddenly he heard a terrible noise. Straight toward -him down the street came a squad of soldiers marching -<span class='pageno' id='Page_16'>16</span>in step, with red faces and sticks under their arms. -Grisha’s blood ran cold with terror and he looked up -anxiously at his nurse to inquire if this were not dangerous. -But nursie neither ran away nor cried, so he -decided it must be safe. He followed the soldiers with -his eyes and began marching in step with them.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Across the street ran two big, long-nosed cats, their -tails sticking straight up into the air and their tongues -lolling out of their mouths. Grisha felt that he, too, -ought to run, and he started off in pursuit.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Stop, stop!” cried nursie, seizing him roughly by -the shoulder. “Where are you going? Who told you -to be naughty?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>But there sat a sort of nurse with a basket of oranges -in her lap. As Grisha passed her he silently took one.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Don’t do that!” cried his fellow wayfarer, slapping -his hand and snatching the orange away from him. -“Little stupid!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Next, Grisha would gladly have picked up some of -the slivers of glass that rattled under his feet and -glittered like icon lamps, but he was afraid that his -hand might be slapped again.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Good day!” Grisha heard a loud, hoarse voice say -over his very ear, and, looking up, he caught sight of -a tall person with shiny buttons.</p> - -<p class='c011'>To his great joy this man shook hands with nursie; -they stood together and entered into conversation. -The sunlight, the rumbling of the vehicles, the horses, -the shiny buttons, all struck Grisha as so amazingly -<span class='pageno' id='Page_17'>17</span>new and yet unterrifying, that his heart overflowed -with delight and he began to laugh.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Come! Come!” he cried to the man with the -shiny buttons, pulling his coat tails.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Where to?” asked the man.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Come!” Grisha insisted. He would have liked to -say that it would be nice to take papa and mamma and -the cat along, too, but somehow his tongue would not -obey him.</p> - -<p class='c011'>In a few minutes nurse turned off the boulevard and -led Grisha into a large courtyard where the snow still -lay on the ground. The man with shiny buttons followed -them. Carefully avoiding the puddles and lumps -of snow, they picked their way across the courtyard, -mounted a dark, grimy staircase, and entered a room -where the air was heavy with smoke and a strong smell -of cooking. A woman was standing over a stove frying -chops. This cook and nurse embraced one another, -and, sitting down on a bench with the man, began -talking in low voices. Bundled up as he was, Grisha -felt unbearably hot.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“What does this mean?” he asked himself, gazing -about. He saw a dingy ceiling, a two-pronged oven -fork, and a stove with a huge oven mouth gaping at -him.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Ma-a-m-ma!” he wailed.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Now! Now!” his nurse called to him. “Be -good!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>The cook set a bottle, two glasses, and a pie on the -<span class='pageno' id='Page_18'>18</span>table. The two women and the man with the shiny -buttons touched glasses and each had several drinks. -The man embraced alternately the cook and the nurse. -Then all three began to sing softly.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Grisha stretched his hand toward the pie, and they -gave him a piece. He ate it and watched his nurse -drinking. He wanted to drink, too.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Give, nursie! Give!” he begged.</p> - -<p class='c011'>The cook gave him a drink out of her glass. He -screwed up his eyes, frowned, and coughed for a long -time after that, beating the air with his hands, while -the cook watched him and laughed.</p> - -<p class='c011'>When he reached home, Grisha explained to mamma, -the walls, and his crib where he had been and what -he had seen. He told it less with his tongue than with -his hands and his face; he showed how the sun had -shone, how the horses had trotted, how the terrible -oven had gaped at him, and how the cook had drunk.</p> - -<p class='c011'>That evening he could not possibly go to sleep. The -soldiers with their sticks, the great cats, the horses, -the bits of glass, the basket of oranges, the shiny buttons, -all this lay piled on his brain and oppressed him. -He tossed from side to side, chattering to himself, and -finally, unable longer to endure his excitement, he -burst into tears.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Why, he has fever!” cried mamma, laying the -palm of her hand on his forehead. “What can be the -reason?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“The stove!” wept Grisha. “Go away, stove!”</p> - -<p class='c011'><span class='pageno' id='Page_19'>19</span>“He has eaten something that has disagreed with -him,” mamma concluded.</p> - -<p class='c011'>And, shaken by his impressions of a new life apprehended -for the first time, Grisha was given a spoonful -of castor-oil by mamma.</p> - -<div> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_20'>20</span> - <h3 class='c009'>A TRIFLE FROM REAL LIFE</h3> -</div> - -<p class='drop-capa0_0_6 c010'>Nikolai Ilitch Belayeff was a young gentleman -of St. Petersburg, aged thirty-two, rosy, -well fed, and a patron of the race-tracks. Once, toward -evening, he went to pay a call on Olga Ivanovna with -whom, to use his own expression, he was dragging -through a long and tedious love-affair. And the truth -was that the first thrilling, inspiring pages of this -romance had long since been read, and that the story -was now dragging wearily on, presenting nothing that -was either interesting or novel.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Not finding Olga at home, my hero threw himself -upon a couch and prepared to await her return.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Good evening, Nikolai Ilitch!” he heard a child’s -voice say. “Mamma will soon be home. She has gone -to the dressmaker’s with Sonia.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>On the divan in the same room lay Aliosha, Olga’s -son, a small boy of eight, immaculately and picturesquely -dressed in a little velvet suit and long -black stockings. He had been lying on a satin pillow, -mimicking the antics of an acrobat he had seen at the -circus. First he stretched up one pretty leg, then another; -then, when they were tired, he brought his arms -into play, and at last jumped up galvanically, throwing -himself on all fours in an effort to stand on his -<span class='pageno' id='Page_21'>21</span>head. He went through all these motions with the -most serious face in the world, puffing like a martyr, -as if he himself regretted that God had given him -such a restless little body.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Ah, good evening, my boy!” said Belayeff. “Is -that you? I did not know you were here. Is mamma -well?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Aliosha seized the toe of his left shoe in his right -hand, assumed the most unnatural position in the -world, rolled over, jumped up, and peeped out at -Belayeff from under the heavy fringes of the lampshade.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Not very,” he said shrugging his shoulders. “Mamma -is never really well. She is a woman, you see, and -women always have something the matter with them.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>From lack of anything better to do, Belayeff began -scrutinizing Aliosha’s face. During all his acquaintance -with Olga he had never bestowed any consideration -upon the boy or noticed his existence at all. He had -seen the child about, but what he was doing there -Belayeff, somehow, had never cared to think.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Now, in the dusk of evening, Aliosha’s pale face and -fixed, dark eyes unexpectedly reminded Belayeff of -Olga as she had appeared in the first pages of their -romance. He wanted to pet the boy.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Come here, little monkey,” he said, “and let me -look at you!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>The boy jumped down from the sofa and ran to -Belayeff.</p> - -<p class='c011'><span class='pageno' id='Page_22'>22</span>“Well,” the latter began, laying his hand on the -boy’s thin shoulder. “And how are you? Is everything -all right with you?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“No, not very. It used to be much better.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“In what way?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“That’s easy to answer. Sonia and I used to learn -only music and reading before, but now we have -French verses, too. You have cut your beard!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Yes.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“So I noticed. It is shorter than it was. Please let -me touch it—does that hurt?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“No, not a bit.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Why does it hurt if you pull one hair at a time, and -not a bit if you pull lots? Ha! Ha! I’ll tell you -something. You ought to wear whiskers! You could -shave here on the sides, here, and here you could let -the hair grow——”</p> - -<p class='c011'>The boy nestled close to Belayeff and began to play -with his watch-chain.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Mamma is going to give me a watch when I go to -school, and I am going to ask her to give me a chain just -like yours—Oh, what a lovely locket! Papa has a -locket just like that; only yours has little stripes on it, -and papa’s has letters. He has a portrait of mamma -in his locket. Papa wears another watch-chain now -made of ribbon.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“How do you know? Do you ever see your papa?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I—n-no—I——”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Aliosha blushed deeply at being caught telling a fib -<span class='pageno' id='Page_23'>23</span>and began to scratch the locket furiously with his -nail. Belayeff looked searchingly into his face and -repeated:</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Do you ever see your papa?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“N-no!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Come, tell me honestly! I can see by your face -that you are not telling the truth. It’s no use quibbling -now that the cat is out of the bag. Tell me, do -you see him? Now then, as between friends!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Aliosha reflected.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“You won’t tell mamma?” he asked.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“What an idea!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Honour bright?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Honour bright!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Promise!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Oh, you insufferable child! What do you take -me for?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Aliosha glanced around, opened his eyes wide, and -said:</p> - -<p class='c011'>“For heaven’s sake don’t tell mamma! Don’t tell -a soul, because it’s a secret. I don’t know what would -happen to Sonia and Pelagia and me if mamma should -find out. Now, listen. Sonia and I see papa every -Thursday and every Friday. When Pelagia takes us -out walking before dinner we go to Anfel’s confectionery -and there we find papa already waiting for us. He is -always sitting in the little private room with the -marble table and the ash-tray that’s made like a goose -without a back.”</p> - -<p class='c011'><span class='pageno' id='Page_24'>24</span>“What do you do in there?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“We don’t do anything. First we say how do you -do, and then papa orders coffee and pasties for us. -Sonia likes pasties with meat, you know, but I can’t -abide them with meat. I like mine with cabbage or -eggs. We eat so much that we have a hard time eating -our dinner afterward so that mamma won’t guess anything.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“What do you talk about?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“With papa? Oh, about everything. He kisses us -and hugs us and tells us the funniest jokes. Do you -know what? He says that when we grow bigger he is -going to take us to live with him. Sonia doesn’t want -to go, but I wouldn’t mind. Of course it would be -lonely without mamma, but I could write letters to -her. Isn’t it funny, we might go and see her then on -Sundays, mightn’t we? Papa says, too, he is going to -buy me a pony. He is such a nice man! I don’t know -why mamma doesn’t ask him to live with her and why -she won’t let us see him. He loves mamma very much. -He always asks how she is and what she has been doing. -When she was ill he took hold of his head just like -this—and ran about the room. He always asks us -whether we are obedient and respectful to her. Tell -me, is it true that we are unfortunate?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“H’m—why do you ask?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Because papa says we are. He says we are unfortunate -children, and that he is unfortunate, and that -mamma is unfortunate. He tells us to pray to God for -her and for ourselves.”</p> - -<p class='c011'><span class='pageno' id='Page_25'>25</span>Aliosha fixed his eyes on the figure of a stuffed bird, -and became lost in thought.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Well, I declare—” muttered Belayeff. “So, that’s -what you do, you hold meetings at a confectioner’s? -And your mamma doesn’t know it?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“N-no. How could she? Pelagia wouldn’t tell her -for the world. Day before yesterday papa gave us -pears. They were as sweet as sugar. I ate two!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“H’m. But—listen to me, does papa ever say anything -about me?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“About you? What shall I say?” Aliosha looked -searchingly into Belayeff’s face and shrugged his -shoulders. “Nothing special,” he answered.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Well, what does he say, for instance?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“You won’t be angry if I tell you?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“What an idea! Does he abuse me?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“No, he doesn’t abuse you, but, you know, he is -angry with you. He says that it is your fault that -mamma is unhappy, and that you have ruined mamma. -He is such a funny man! I tell him that you are kind -and that you never scold mamma, but he only shakes -his head.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“So he says I have ruined her?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Yes—don’t be angry, Nikolai Ilitch!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Belayeff rose and began pacing up and down the -room.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“How strange this is—and how ridiculous!” he -muttered shrugging his shoulders and smiling sarcastically. -“It is all <i>his</i> fault and yet he says <i>I</i> have -<span class='pageno' id='Page_26'>26</span>ruined her! What an innocent baby this is! And so -he told you I had ruined your mother?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Yes, but—you promised not to be angry!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I’m not angry and—and it is none of your business -anyway. Yes, this is—this is really ridiculous! Here -I have been caught like a mouse in a trap, and now it -seems it is all my fault!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>The door-bell rang. The boy tore himself from -Belayeff’s arms and ran out of the room. A moment -later a lady entered with a little girl. It was Aliosha’s -mother, Olga Ivanovna. Aliosha skipped into the -room behind her, singing loudly and clapping his -hands. Belayeff nodded and continued to walk up -and down.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Of course!” he muttered. “Whom should he -blame but me? He has right on his side! He is the -injured husband.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“What is that you are saying?” asked Olga -Ivanovna.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“What am I saying? Just listen to what your -young hopeful here has been preaching. It appears -that I am a wicked scoundrel and that I have ruined -you and your children. You are all unhappy, and I -alone am frightfully happy. Frightfully, frightfully -happy!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I don’t understand you, Nikolai. What is the -matter?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Just listen to what this young gentleman here has -to say!” cried Belayeff pointing to Aliosha.</p> - -<p class='c011'><span class='pageno' id='Page_27'>27</span>Aliosha flushed and then grew suddenly pale and -his face became distorted with fear.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Nikolai Ilitch!” he whispered loudly. “Hush!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Olga Ivanovna looked at Aliosha in surprise, and -then at Belayeff, and then back again at Aliosha.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Ask him!” Belayeff continued. “That idiot of -yours, Pelagia, takes them to a confectioner’s and arranges -meetings there between them and their papa. -But that isn’t the point. The point is that papa is -the victim, and that I am an abandoned scoundrel -who has wrecked the lives of both of you!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Nikolai Ilitch!” groaned Aliosha. “You gave me -your word of honour!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Leave me alone!” Belayeff motioned to him impatiently. -“This is more important than words of -honour. This hypocrisy, these lies are intolerable!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I don’t understand!” cried Olga Ivanovna, the -tears glistening in her eyes. “Listen, Aliosha,” she -asked, turning to her son. “Do you really see your -father?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>But Aliosha did not hear her, his eyes were fixed -with horror on Belayeff.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“It cannot be possible!” his mother exclaimed, “I -must go and ask Pelagia.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Olga Ivanovna left the room.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“But Nikolai Ilitch, you gave me your word of -honour!” cried Aliosha trembling all over.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Belayeff made an impatient gesture and went on -pacing the floor. He was absorbed in thoughts of the -<span class='pageno' id='Page_28'>28</span>wrong that had been done him, and, as before, was unconscious -of the boy’s presence: a serious, grown-up -person like him could not be bothered with little boys. -But Aliosha crept into a corner and told Sonia with -horror how he had been deceived. He trembled and -hiccoughed and cried. This was the first time in his -life that he had come roughly face to face with deceit; -he had never imagined till now that there were things -in this world besides pasties and watches and sweet -pears, things for which no name could be found in -the vocabulary of childhood.</p> - -<div> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_29'>29</span> - <h3 class='c009'>THE COOK’S WEDDING</h3> -</div> - -<p class='drop-capa0_0_6 c010'>Grisha, a little urchin of seven, stood at the -kitchen door with his eye at the keyhole, watching -and listening. Something was taking place in the -kitchen that seemed to him very strange and that he -had never seen happen before. At the table on which -the meat and onions were usually chopped sat a huge, -burly peasant in a long coachman’s coat. His hair -and beard were red, and a large drop of perspiration -hung from the tip of his nose. He was holding his -saucer on the outstretched fingers of his right hand -and, as he supped his tea, was nibbling a lump of sugar -so noisily that the goose-flesh started out on Grisha’s -back. On a grimy stool opposite him sat Grisha’s old -nurse, Aksinia. She also was drinking tea; her mien -was serious and at the same time radiant with triumph. -Pelagia, the cook, was busy over the stove and seemed -to be endeavouring to conceal her face by every possible -means. Grisha could see that it was fairly on -fire, burning hot, and flooded in turn with every colour -of the rainbow from dark purple to a deathly pallor. -The cook was constantly catching up knives, forks, -stove-wood, and dish-rags in her trembling hands, -and was bustling about and grumbling and making a -great racket without accomplishing anything. She did -<span class='pageno' id='Page_30'>30</span>not once glance toward the table at which the other -two were sitting, and replied to the nurse’s questions -abruptly and roughly without ever turning her head -in their direction.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Drink, drink, Danilo!” the nurse was urging the -driver. “What makes you always drink tea? Take -some vodka!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>And the nurse pushed the bottle toward her guest, -her face assuming a malicious expression.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“No, ma’am, I don’t use it. Thank you, ma’am,” -the driver replied. “Don’t force me to drink it, goody -Aksinia!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“What’s the matter with you? What, you a driver -and won’t drink vodka? A single man ought to drink! -Come, have a little!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>The driver rolled his eyes at the vodka and then at -the malicious face of the nurse, and his own face assumed -an expression no less crafty than hers.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“No, no; you’ll not catch me, you old witch!” he -seemed to be saying.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“No, thank you; I don’t drink,” he answered aloud. -“That foolishness won’t do in our business. A workman -can drink if he wants to because he never budges -from the same place, but we fellows live too much in -public. Don’t we now? Supposing I were to go into -an inn and my horse were to break away, or, worse -still, supposing I were to get drunk and, before I knew -it, were to go to sleep and fall off the box? That’s -what happens!”</p> - -<p class='c011'><span class='pageno' id='Page_31'>31</span>“How much do you make a day, Danilo?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“That depends on the day. There are days and -days. A coachman’s job isn’t worth much now. You -know yourself that drivers are as thick as flies, hay is -expensive, travellers are scarce and are always wanting -to go everywhere on horseback. But, praise be to God, -we don’t complain. We keep ourselves clothed and -fed and we can even make some one else happy—(here -the driver cast a look in Pelagia’s direction)—if they -want us to!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Grisha did not hear what was said next. His mamma -came to the door and sent him away to the nursery to -study.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Be off to your lessons, you have no business to be -here!” she exclaimed.</p> - -<p class='c011'>On reaching the nursery, Grisha took up “Our -Mother Tongue,” and tried to read, but without success. -The words he had just overheard had raised a -host of questions in his mind.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“The cook is going to be married,” he thought. -“That is strange. I don’t understand why she wants -to be married. Mamma married papa and Cousin -Vera married Pavel Andreitch, but papa and Pavel -Andreitch have gold watch-chains and nice clothes and -their boots are always clean. I can understand any -one marrying them. But this horrid driver with his -red nose and his felt boots—ugh! And why does -nursie want poor Pelagia to marry?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>When her guest had gone, Pelagia came into the -<span class='pageno' id='Page_32'>32</span>house to do the housework. Her excitement had not -subsided. Her face was red and she looked startled. -She scarcely touched the floor with her broom and -swept out every corner at least five times. She lingered -in the room where Grisha’s mamma was sitting. -Solitude seemed to be irksome to her and she longed -to pour out her heart in words and to share her impressions -with some one.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Well, he’s gone!” she began, seeing that mamma -would not open the conversation.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“He seems to be a nice man,” said mamma without -looking up from her embroidery. “He is sober and -steady looking.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“My lady, I won’t marry him!” Pelagia suddenly -screamed. “I declare I won’t!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Don’t be silly, you’re not a baby! Marriage is a -serious thing, and you must think it over carefully and -not scream like that for no reason at all. Do you like -him?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Oh, my lady!” murmured Pelagia in confusion. -“He does say such things—indeed he does!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“She ought to say outright she doesn’t like him,” -thought Grisha.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“What a goose you are! Tell me, do you like him?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“He’s an old man, my lady! Hee, hee!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Listen to her!” the nurse burst out from the other -end of the room. “He isn’t forty yet! You mustn’t -look a gift-horse in the mouth! Marry him and have -done with it!”</p> - -<p class='c011'><span class='pageno' id='Page_33'>33</span>“I won’t marry him! I won’t, I won’t!” screamed -Pelagia.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Then you’re a donkey, you are! What in the -world are you after, anyhow? Any other woman but -you would be down on her knees to him, and you say -you won’t marry him! She’s running after Grisha’s -tutor, she is, my lady; she’s setting her cap at him! -Ugh, the shameless creature!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Had you ever seen this Danilo before to-day?” -her mistress asked Pelagia.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“How could I have seen him before to-day? This -was the first time. Aksinia picked him up somewhere—bad -luck to him! Why must I have him thrown at my -head?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>That day the whole family kept their eyes fixed on -Pelagia’s face as she was serving the dinner and teased -her about the driver. Pelagia blushed furiously and -giggled with confusion.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“What a shameful thing it must be to get married!” -thought Grisha. “What a horribly shameful thing!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>The whole dinner was too salty, blood was oozing -from the half-cooked chickens, and, to complete the -disaster, Pelagia kept dropping the knives and forks -and dishes as if her hands had been a pair of rickety -shelves. No one blamed her, however, for every one -knew what her state of mind must be.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Once only did papa angrily throw down his napkin -and exclaim to mamma:</p> - -<p class='c011'>“What is this craze you have for match-making? -<span class='pageno' id='Page_34'>34</span>Can’t you let them manage it for themselves if they -want to get married?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>After dinner the neighbouring cooks and maids kept -flitting in and out of the kitchen, and were whispering -together there until late in the evening. Heaven -knows how they had scented the approaching wedding! -Waking up at midnight, Grisha heard his -nurse and the cook murmuring together in his nursery -behind the curtain. The nurse was trying to -convince the cook of something, and the latter was -alternately sobbing and giggling. When he fell asleep, -Grisha saw in his dreams Pelagia being spirited away -by the Evil One and a witch.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Next day quiet reigned once more, and from that -time forward life in the kitchen jogged on as if there -were no such thing in the world as a driver. Only -nurse would don her new shawl from time to time and -sally forth for a couple of hours, evidently to a conference, -with a serious and triumphant expression on -her face. Pelagia and the driver did not see one another, -and if any one mentioned his name to her she -would fly into a rage and exclaim:</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Bad luck to him! As if I ever thought of him at -all—ugh!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>One evening, while Pelagia and the nurse were -busily cutting out clothes in the kitchen, mamma -came in and said:</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Of course you may marry him, Pelagia, that is -your own affair, but I want you to understand that I -<span class='pageno' id='Page_35'>35</span>can’t have him living here. You know I don’t like to -have men sitting in the kitchen. Remember that! -And I can’t ever let you go out for the night.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“What do you take me for, my lady?” screamed -Pelagia. “Why do you cast him into my teeth? Let -him fuss all he wants to! What does he mean by hanging -himself round my neck, the——”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Looking into the kitchen one Sunday morning, -Grisha was petrified with astonishment. The room -was packed to overflowing; the cooks from all the -neighbouring houses were there with the house porter, -two constables, a sergeant in his gold lace, and a boy -named Filka. This Filka was generally to be found -hanging about the wash-house playing with the dogs, -but to-day he was washed and brushed and dressed -in a gold-tinsel cassock and was carrying an icon in -his hands. In the middle of the kitchen stood Pelagia -in a new gingham dress with a wreath of flowers on her -head. At her side stood the driver. The young couple -were flushed and perspiring, and were blinking their -eyes furiously.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Well, it’s time to begin,” said the sergeant after a -long silence.</p> - -<p class='c011'>A spasm passed over Pelagia’s features and she began -to bawl. The sergeant picked up a huge loaf of -bread from the table, pulled the nurse to his side, and -commenced the ceremony. The driver approached the -sergeant and flopped down on his knees before him, -delivering a smacking kiss on his hand. Pelagia went -<span class='pageno' id='Page_36'>36</span>mechanically after him and also flopped down on her -knees. At last the outside door opened, a gust of -white mist blew into the kitchen, and the assembly -streamed out into the courtyard.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Poor, poor woman!” thought Grisha, listening to -the cook’s sobs. “Where are they taking her? Why -don’t papa and mamma interfere?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>After the wedding they sang and played the concertina -in the laundry until night. Mamma was annoyed -because nurse smelled of vodka and because, -with all these weddings, there never was any one to -put on the samovar. Pelagia had not come in when -Grisha went to bed that night.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Poor woman, she is crying out there somewhere in -the dark,” he thought. “And the driver is telling her -to shut up!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Next morning the cook was back in the kitchen -again. The driver came in for a few minutes. He -thanked mamma, and, casting a stern look at Pelagia, -said:</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Keep a sharp eye on her, my lady! And you, too, -Aksinia, don’t let her alone; make her behave herself. -No nonsense for her! And please let me have five -roubles of her wages, my lady, to buy myself a new -pair of hames.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Here, then, was a fresh puzzle for Grisha! Pelagia -had been free to do as she liked and had been responsible -to no one, and now suddenly, for no reason at all, -along came an unknown man who seemed somehow to -<span class='pageno' id='Page_37'>37</span>have acquired the right to control her actions and her -property! Grisha grew very sad. He was on the verge -of tears and longed passionately to be kind to this -woman, who, it seemed to him, was a victim of human -violence. He ran into the storeroom, picked out the -largest apple he could find there, tiptoed into the -kitchen, and, thrusting the apple into Pelagia’s hand, -rushed back as fast as his legs could carry him.</p> - -<div> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_38'>38</span> - <h3 class='c009'>SHROVE TUESDAY</h3> -</div> - -<p class='drop-capa0_0_6 c010'>“Here, Pavel, Pavel!” Pelagia Ivanovna cried, -rousing her husband from a nap. “Do go and -help Stepa! He is sitting there crying again over his -lessons. It must be something he can’t understand.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Pavel Vasilitch got up, made the sign of the cross -over his yawning mouth, and said meekly:</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Very well, dear.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>The cat sleeping beside him also jumped up, stretched -its tail in the air, arched its back, and half-closed its -eyes. The mice could be heard scuttling behind the -hangings. Having put on his slippers and dressing-gown, -Pavel Vasilitch passed into the dining-room all -ruffled and heavy with sleep. A second cat that had -been sniffing at a plate of cold fish on the window-sill -jumped to the floor as he entered, and hid in the cupboard.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Who told you to go smelling that?” Pavel Vasilitch -cried with vexation, covering the fish with a newspaper. -“You’re more of a pig than a cat!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>A door led from the dining-room into the nursery. -There, at a table disfigured with deep gouges and -stains, sat Stepa, a schoolboy of ten with tearful eyes -<span class='pageno' id='Page_39'>39</span>and a petulant face. He was hugging his knees to his -chin and swaying backward and forward like a Chinese -idol with his eyes fixed angrily on the schoolbook before -him.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“So you’re learning your lessons, eh?” asked Pavel -Vasilitch, yawning and taking his seat at the table beside -him. “That’s the way, sonny. You’ve had your -play and your nap, and you’ve eaten your pancakes, -and to-morrow will be Lent, a time of repentance; so -now you’re at work. The happiest day must have an -end. What do those tears mean? Are your lessons -getting the better of you? It’s hard to do lessons -after eating pancakes! That’s what ails you, little -sonny!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Why do you laugh at the child?” calls Pelagia -Ivanovna from the next room. “Show him how to do -his lessons, instead of making fun of him! Oh, what -a trial he is! He’ll be sure to get a bad mark to-morrow!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“What is it you don’t understand?” asked Pavel -Vasilitch of Stepa.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“This here, how to divide these fractions,” the boy -answered crossly. “The division of fractions by -fractions.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“H’m, you little pickle, that’s easy, there’s nothing -about it to understand. You must do the sum right, -that’s all. To divide one fraction by another you -multiply the numerator of the first by the denominator -of the second in order to get the numerator of the -<span class='pageno' id='Page_40'>40</span>quotient. Very well. Now the denominator of the -first——”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I know that already!” Stepa interrupted him, -flicking a nutshell off the table. “Show me an example.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“An example? Very well, let me have a pencil. -Now, then, listen to me. Supposing that we want to -divide seven-eighths by two-fifths. Very well, then -the proposition is this: we want to divide these -two fractions by one another—Is the samovar -boiling?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I don’t know.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Because it’s eight o’clock and time for tea. Very -well, now listen to me. Supposing that we divide -seven-eighths not by two-fifths, but by two, that is -by the numerator only. What is the answer?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Seven-sixteenths.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Splendid! Good boy! Now, then, sonny, the trick -is this: as we have divided—let me see—as we have -divided it by two, of course—wait a minute, I’m getting -muddled myself. I remember when I was a boy -at school we had a Polish arithmetic master named -Sigismund Urbanitch, who used to get muddled over -every lesson. He would suddenly lose his wits while -he was in the midst of demonstrating a proposition, -blush to the roots of his hair, and rush about the classroom -as if the devil were after him. Then he would -blow his nose four or five times and burst into tears. -But we were generous to him, we used to pretend not -<span class='pageno' id='Page_41'>41</span>to notice it, and would ask him whether he had the -toothache. And yet we were a class of pirates, of cutthroats, -I can tell you, but, as you see, we were generous. -We boys weren’t puny like you when I was a -youngster; we were great big chaps, you never saw -such great strapping fellows! There was Mamakin, -for instance, in the third grade. Lord! What a giant -he was! Why, that colossus was seven feet high! The -whole house shook when he walked across the floor -and he would knock the breath out of your body if -he laid his hand on your shoulder. Not only we boys, -but even the masters feared him. Why Mamakin -would sometimes——”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Pelagia Ivanovna’s footsteps resounded in the next -room. Pavel Vasilitch winked at the door and whispered:</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Mother’s coming, let’s get to work! Very well, -then, sonny,” he continued, raising his voice. “We -want to divide this fraction by that one. All right. -To do that we must multiply the numerator of the -first by——”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Come in to tea!” called Pelagia Ivanovna.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Father and son left their arithmetic and went in to -tea. Pelagia Ivanovna was already seated at the -dining-table with the silent aunt and another aunt who -was deaf and dumb and old granny Markovna, who -had assisted Stepa into the world. The samovar was -hissing and emitting jets of steam that settled in -large, dark shadows upon the ceiling. The cats came -<span class='pageno' id='Page_42'>42</span>in from the hall, sleepy, melancholy, their tails standing -straight up in the air.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Do have some preserves with your tea, Markovna!” -said Pelagia Ivanovna turning to the old dame. “To-morrow -will be Lent, so you must eat all you can.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Markovna helped herself to a large spoonful of jam, -raised it to her lips, and swallowed it with a sidelong -glance at Pavel Vasilitch. Next moment a sweet smile -broke over her face, a smile almost as sweet as the -jam itself.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“These preserves are perfectly delicious!” she exclaimed. -“Did you make them yourself, Pelagia -Ivanovna, dearie?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Yes, of course, who else could have made them? -I do everything myself. Stepa, darling, was your tea -too weak for you? Mercy, you’ve finished it already! -Come, hand me your cup, sweetheart, and let me give -you some more.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“That young Mamakin I was telling you about, -sonny,” continued Pavel Vasilitch, turning to Stepa, -“couldn’t abide our French teacher. ‘I’m a gentleman!’ -he used to exclaim. ‘I won’t be lorded over by -a Frenchman!’ Of course he used to be flogged for it, -and badly flogged, too. When he knew he was in for a -thrashing he used to jump through the window and -take to his heels, not showing his nose in school after -that for five or six days. Then his mother would go -to the head master and beg him for pity’s sake to find -her Mishka and give the scoundrel a thrashing, but -<span class='pageno' id='Page_43'>43</span>the head master used to say: ‘That’s all very well, -madam, but no five of our men can hold that fellow!’”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“My goodness, what dreadful boys there are in the -world!” whispered Pelagia Ivanovna, fixing terrified -eyes on her husband. “His poor mother!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>A silence followed—Stepa yawned loudly as he contemplated -the Chinaman on the tea-caddy whom he -had seen at least a thousand times before. Markovna -and the two aunts sipped their tea primly from their -saucers. The air was close and oppressive with the -heat of the stove. The lassitude that comes to the -satiated body when it is forced to continue eating was -depicted on the faces and in the movements of the family. -The samovar had been taken away and the table -had been cleared, but they still continued to sit -about the board. Pelagia Ivanovna jumped up from -time to time and ran into the kitchen with a look of -horror on her face to confer with the cook about -supper. The aunts both sat motionless in the same -position, dozing with their hands folded on their -chests and their lack-lustre eyes fixed on the lamp. -Markovna kept hiccoughing every minute and asked -each time:</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I wonder what makes me hiccough? I don’t know -what I could have eaten or drunk—hick!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Pavel Vasilitch and Stepa leaned over the table side -by side with their heads together, poring over the -pages of the <cite>Neva Magazine</cite> for the year 1878.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“‘The monument to Leonardo da Vinci in front of -<span class='pageno' id='Page_44'>44</span>the Victor Emmanuel Museum at Milan.’ Look at -that, it’s like a triumphal arch! And there are a man -and a lady, and there are some more little people——”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“That looks like one of the boys at our school,” -Stepa said.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Turn over the page—‘The Proboscis of the House -Fly as Seen through the Microscope.’ Goodness what -a fly! I wonder what a bedbug would look like under -the microscope, eh? How disgusting!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>The ancient hall clock coughed rather than struck -ten times, as if it were afflicted with a cold. Into the -dining-room came Anna the cook and fell flop at her -master’s feet.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Forgive me my sins, master, for Christ’s sake!” -she cried and got up again very red in the face.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Forgive me mine, too, for Christ’s sake!” answered -Pavel Vasilitch calmly.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Anna then fell down at the feet of every member of -the family in turn and asked forgiveness for her sins, -omitting only Markovna, who, not being high-born, -was unworthy of a prostration.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Another half-hour passed in silence and peace. The -<cite>Neva</cite> was tossed aside onto the sofa and Pavel Vasilitch, -with one finger raised aloft, was reciting Latin poetry -he had learned in his youth. Stepa was watching his -father’s finger with its wedding-ring and dozing as he -listened to the words he could not understand. He -rubbed his heavy eyes with his fist but they kept closing -tighter and tighter each time.</p> - -<p class='c011'><span class='pageno' id='Page_45'>45</span>“I’m going to bed!” he said at last, stretching and -yawning.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“What? To bed?” cried Pelagia Ivanovna. -“Won’t you eat your meat for the last time before -Lent?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I don’t want any meat.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Have you taken leave of your senses?” his startled -mother exclaimed. “How can you say that? You won’t -have any meat after to-night for the whole of Lent!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Pavel Vasilitch was startled, too.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Yes, yes, sonny,” he cried. “Your mother will -give you nothing but Lenten fare for seven weeks after -to-night. This won’t do. You must eat your meat!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“But I want to go to bed!” whimpered Stepa.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Then bring in the supper quick!” cried Pavel Vasilitch -in a flutter. “Anna, what are you doing in there, -you old slow-coach? Come quick and bring in the -supper!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Pelagia Ivanovna threw up her hands and rushed -into the kitchen as if the house were afire.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Hurry! Hurry!” rang through the house. “Stepa -wants to go to bed! Anna! Oh, heavens, what is the -matter? Hurry!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>In five minutes the supper was on the table. The -cats appeared once more, stretching and arching their -backs, with their tails in the air. The family applied -themselves to their meal. No one was hungry, all -were surfeited to the point of bursting, but they felt -it was their duty to eat.</p> - -<div> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_46'>46</span> - <h3 class='c009'>IN PASSION WEEK</h3> -</div> - -<p class='drop-capa0_0_6 c010'>“Run, the church-bells are ringing! Be a good boy -in church and don’t play! If you do, God will -punish you!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>My mother slipped a few copper coins into my hand -and then forgot all about me, as she ran into the -kitchen with an iron that was growing cold. I knew I -should not be allowed to eat or drink after confession, -so before leaving home I choked down a crust of bread -and drank two glasses of water. Spring was at its -height. The street was a sea of brown mud through -which ruts were already in process of being worn; -the housetops and sidewalks were dry, and the tender -young green of springtime was pushing up through -last year’s dry grass under the fence rows. Muddy -rivulets were babbling and murmuring down the gutters -in which the sun did not disdain to lave its rays. -Chips, bits of straw, and nutshells were floating -swiftly down with the current, twisting and turning and -catching on the dirty foam flakes. Whither, whither -were they drifting? Would they not be swept from -the gutter into the river, from the river into the sea, -and from the sea into the mighty ocean? I tried to -<span class='pageno' id='Page_47'>47</span>picture to myself the long and terrible journey before -them, but my imagination failed even before reaching -the river.</p> - -<p class='c011'>A cab drove by. The cabman was clucking to his -horse and slapping the reins, unaware of two street-urchins -hanging from the springs of his little carriage. -I wanted to join these boys, but straightway remembered -that I was on my way to confession, whereupon -the boys appeared to me to be very wicked sinners -indeed.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“God will ask them on the Last Judgment Day why -they played tricks on a poor cabman,” I thought. -“They will begin to make excuses, but the devil will -grab them and throw them into eternal fire. But if -they obey their fathers and mothers and give pennies -and bread to the beggars, God will have mercy on -them and will let them into Paradise.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>The church porch was sunny and dry. Not a soul -was there; I opened the church door irresolutely and -entered the building. There, in the dim light more -fraught with melancholy and gloom for me than ever -before, I became overwhelmed by the consciousness of -my wickedness and sin. The first object that met my -sight was a huge crucifixion with the Virgin and St. -John the Baptist on either side of the cross. The -lustres and shutters were hung with mourning black, -the icon lamps were glimmering faintly, and the sun -seemed to be purposely avoiding the church windows. -The Mother of God and the favourite Disciple were -<span class='pageno' id='Page_48'>48</span>depicted in profile silently gazing at that unutterable -agony upon the cross, oblivious of my presence. I felt -that I was a stranger to them, paltry and vile; that -I could not help them by word or deed; that I was a -horrid, worthless boy, fit only to chatter and be naughty -and rough. I called to mind all my acquaintances, and -they all seemed to me to be trivial and silly and wicked, -incapable of consoling one atom the terrible grief before -me. The murky twilight deepened, the Mother of -God and John the Baptist seemed very lonely.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Behind the lectern where the candles were sold -stood the old soldier Prokofi, now churchwarden’s assistant.</p> - -<p class='c011'>His eyebrows were raised and he was stroking his -beard and whispering to an old woman.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“The service will begin directly after vespers this -evening. There will be prayers after matins to-morrow -at eight o’clock. Do you hear me? At eight -o’clock.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Between two large pillars near the rood-screen the -penitents were standing in line waiting their turn for -confession. Among them was Mitka, a ragged little -brat with an ugly, shaven head, protruding ears, -and small, wicked eyes. He was the son of Nastasia -the washerwoman, and was a bully and a thief who -filched apples from the fruit-stalls and had more than -once made away with my knuckle-bones. He was now -staring crossly at me and seemed to be exulting in the -fact that he was going to confession before me. My -<span class='pageno' id='Page_49'>49</span>heart swelled with rage and I tried not to look at him. -From the bottom of my soul I was furious that this -boy’s sins were about to be forgiven.</p> - -<p class='c011'>In front of him stood a richly dressed lady with a -white plume in her hat. Clearly she was deeply agitated -and tensely expectant, and one of her cheeks was burning -with a feverish flush.</p> - -<p class='c011'>I waited five minutes, ten minutes—then a well-dressed -young man with a long, thin neck came out -from behind the screen. He had on high rubber -goloshes, and I at once began dreaming of the day when -I should buy a pair of goloshes like his for myself. I -decided that I would certainly do so. And now came -the lady’s turn. She shuddered and went behind the -screen.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Through a crack I could see her approach the altar, -prostrate herself, rise, and bow her head expectantly -without looking at the priest. The priest’s back was -turned toward the screen, and all I could see of him was -his broad shoulders, his curly grey hair, and the chain -around his neck from which a cross was suspended. -Sighing, without looking at the lady, he began nodding -his head and whispering rapidly, now raising, now -lowering his voice. The lady listened meekly, guiltily -almost, with downcast eyes, and answered him in a -few words.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“What can be her sin?” I wondered, looking reverently -at her beautiful, gentle face. “Forgive her, -God, and make her happy!”</p> - -<p class='c011'><span class='pageno' id='Page_50'>50</span>But now the priest was covering her head with the -stole.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I, Thy unworthy servant,” his voice rang out, -“by the power vouchsafed me, forgive this woman -and absolve her from sin——”</p> - -<p class='c011'>The lady prostrated herself once more, kissed the -cross, and retired. Both her cheeks were flushed now, -but her face was calm, and unclouded, and joyous.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“She is happy now,” I thought, my eye wandering -from her to the priest pronouncing the absolution. -“But how happy he must be who is able to forgive sin!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>It was Mitka’s turn next, and my heart suddenly -boiled over with hatred for the little thief. I wanted -to go behind the screen ahead of him, I wanted to be -first. Mitka noticed the movement, and hit me on -the head with a candle. I paid him back in his own -coin, and for a moment sounds of panting and the -breaking of candles were heard in the church. We -were forcibly parted, and my enemy nervously and -stiffly approached the altar and bowed to the ground, -but what happened after that I was unable to see. -All I could think of was that I was going next, after -Mitka, and at that thought the objects around me -danced and swam before my eyes. Mitka’s protruding -ears grew larger than ever and melted into the back of -his neck, the priest swayed, and the floor rocked under -my feet.</p> - -<p class='c011'>The priest’s voice rang out:</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I, Thy unworthy servant——”</p> - -<p class='c011'><span class='pageno' id='Page_51'>51</span>I found myself moving toward the screen. My feet -seemed to be treading on air. I felt as if I were floating. -I reached the altar, which was higher than my -head. The weary, dispassionate face of the priest -flashed for a moment across my vision, but after that -I saw only his blue-lined sleeves and one corner of the -stole. I felt his near presence, smelled the odour of -his cassock, and heard his stern voice, and the cheek -that was turned toward him began to burn. I lost -much of what he said from excitement, but I answered -him earnestly, in a voice that sounded to me as if it -were not my own. I thought of the lonely Mother of -God, and the Disciple, and the crucifixion, and my -mother, and wanted to cry and ask for forgiveness.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“What is your name?” asked the priest, laying the -stole over my head.</p> - -<p class='c011'>How relieved I now felt, and how light of heart! -My sins were gone, I was sanctified. I could enter into -Paradise. It seemed to me that I exhaled the same -odour as the priest’s cassock, and I sniffed my sleeve -as I came out from behind the screen and went to the -deacon to register. The dim half-light of the church -no longer struck me as gloomy, and I could now look -calmly and without anger at Mitka.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“What is your name?” asked the deacon.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Fedia.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Fedia, what?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I don’t know.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“What is your daddy’s name?”</p> - -<p class='c011'><span class='pageno' id='Page_52'>52</span>“Ivan.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“And his other name?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>I was silent.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“How old are you?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Nine years old.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>On reaching home I went straight to bed to avoid -seeing my family at supper. Shutting my eyes, I lay -thinking of how glorious it would be to be martyred -by Herod or some one; to live in a desert feeding bears -like the hermit Seraphim; to pass one’s life in a cell -with nothing to eat but wafers; to give away all one -possessed to the poor; to make a pilgrimage to Kief. -I could hear them laying the table in the dining-room; -supper would soon be ready! There would be pickles -and cabbage pasties and baked fish—oh, how hungry -I was! I now felt willing to endure any torture whatsoever, -to live in the desert without my mother, feeding -bears out of my own hands, if only I could have -just one little cabbage pasty first!</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Purify my heart, O God!” I prayed, pulling the -bedclothes up over my head. “O guardian angels, -save me from sin!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Next morning, Thursday, I woke with a heart as -serene and joyful as a spring day. I walked gaily and -manfully to church, conscious that I was now a communicant -and that I was wearing a beautiful and expensive -shirt made from a silk dress left me by my -grandmamma. Everything in church spoke of joy -and happiness and springtime. The Mother of God and -<span class='pageno' id='Page_53'>53</span>John the Baptist looked less sad than they had the -evening before, and the faces of the communicants -were radiant with anticipation. The past, it seemed, -was all forgiven and forgotten. Mitka was there, -washed and dressed in his Sunday best. I looked -cheerfully at his protruding ears, and, to show that I -bore him no malice, I said:</p> - -<p class='c011'>“You look fine to-day. If your hair didn’t stick up -so and you weren’t so poorly dressed one might almost -think your mother was a lady instead of a washerwoman. -Come and play knuckle-bones with me on -Easter Day!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Mitka looked suspiciously at me and secretly -threatened me with his fist.</p> - -<p class='c011'>The lady of yesterday was radiantly beautiful. She -wore a light blue dress fastened with a large, flashing -brooch shaped like a horseshoe.</p> - -<p class='c011'>I stood and admired her, thinking that when I grew -to be a man I should certainly marry a woman like -her, but, remembering suddenly that to think of marriage -was shameful, I stopped, and moved toward the -choir where the deacon was already reading the prayers -that concluded the service.</p> - -<div> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_54'>54</span> - <h3 class='c009'>AN INCIDENT</h3> -</div> - -<p class='drop-capa0_0_6 c010'>It was morning. Bright rays of sunlight were streaming -into the nursery through the lacy curtain that -the frost had drawn across the panes of the windows. -Vania, a boy of six with a shaven head and a nose like -a button, and his sister Nina, a chubby, curly-haired -girl of four, woke from their sleep and stared crossly -at one another through the bars of their cribs.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Oh, shame, shame!” grumbled nursie. “All good -folks have had breakfast by now and your eyes are -still half-closed!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>The sun’s rays were chasing each other merrily -across the carpet, the walls, and the tail of nursie’s -dress, and seemed to be inviting the children to a -romp, but they did not notice the sun, they had waked -in a bad humour. Nina pouted, made a wry face, and -began to whine:</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Tea, nursie, I want my tea!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Vania frowned and wondered how he could manage -to quarrel and so find an excuse to bawl. He was already -winking his eyes and opening his mouth when -mamma’s voice came from the dining-room saying:</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Don’t forget to give the cat some milk; she has -kittens now!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Vania and Nina pulled long faces and looked dubiously -<span class='pageno' id='Page_55'>55</span>at one another; then they both screamed, -jumped out of bed, and scampered into the kitchen as -they were, barefooted and in their little nightgowns, -filling the air with shrill squeals as they ran.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“The cat has kittens! The cat has kittens!” they -shrieked.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Under a bench in the kitchen stood a box, the same -box which Stepan used for carrying coal when fires -were lighted in the fire-places. Out of this box peered -the cat. Profound weariness was manifested in her -face, and her green eyes with their narrow black pupils -wore an expression both languid and sentimental. -One could see from her mien that if “he,” the father -of her children, were but with her, her happiness would -be complete. She opened her mouth wide and tried -to mew but her throat only emitted a wheezing sound. -The squeaking of her kittens came from inside the box.</p> - -<p class='c011'>The children squatted down on their heels near the -box, motionless, holding their breath, their eyes riveted -on the cat. They were dumb with wonder and amazement -and did not hear their nurse as she grumblingly -pursued them. Unaffected pleasure shone in the eyes -of both.</p> - -<p class='c011'>In the lives and education of children domestic -animals play a useful if inconspicuous part. Who -does not remember some strong, noble watch-dog of -his childhood, some petted spaniel, or the birds that -died in captivity? Who does not recall the stupid, -arrogant turkeys, and the meek old tabby-cats that -<span class='pageno' id='Page_56'>56</span>were always ready to forgive us even when we stepped -on their tails for fun and caused them the keenest pain? -I sometimes think that the loyalty, patience, capacity -for forgiveness, and fidelity of our domestic animals -have a far greater and more potent influence over the -minds of children than the long discourses of some -pale, prosy German tutor or the hazy explanations of a -governess who tries to tell them that water is compounded -of oxygen and hydrogen.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Oh, how tiny they are!” cried Nina, staring at -the kittens round-eyed and breaking into a merry peal -of laughter—“They look like mice!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“One, two, three—” counted Vania. “Three kittens. -That means one for me and one for you and -one for some one else.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Murrm-murr-r-r-m,” purred the cat, flattered at -receiving so much attention. “Murr-r-m.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>When they were tired of looking at the kittens, the -children took them out from under the cat and began -squeezing and pinching them; then, not satisfied with -this, they wrapped them in the hems of their nightgowns -and ran with them into the drawing-room.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Their mother was sitting there with a strange man. -When she saw the children come in not dressed, not -washed, with their nightgowns in the air she blushed -and looked sternly at them.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“For shame! Let your nightgowns down!” she -cried. “Go away or else I shall have to punish you!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>But the children heeded neither the threats of their -<span class='pageno' id='Page_57'>57</span>mother nor the presence of the stranger. They laid -the kittens down on the carpet and raised their voices -in shrill vociferation. The mother cat roamed about at -their feet and mewed beseechingly. A moment later -the children were seized and borne off into the nursery -to be dressed and fed and to say their prayers, but -their hearts were full of passionate longing to have -done with these prosaic duties as quickly as possible -and to escape once more into the kitchen.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Their usual games and occupations faded into the -background.</p> - -<p class='c011'>By their arrival in the world the kittens had eclipsed -everything else and had taken their place as the one -engrossing novelty and passion of the day. If Vania -or Nina had been offered a ton of candy or a thousand -pennies for each one of the kittens they would have -refused the bargain without a moment’s hesitation. -They sat over the kittens in the kitchen until the very -moment for dinner, in spite of the vigorous protests -of their nurse and of the cook. The expression on -their faces was serious, absorbed, and full of anxiety. -They were worrying not only over the present, but -also over the future of the kittens. They decided that -one should stay at home with the old cat to console -its mother, the second should go to the cottage in the -country, and the third should live in the cellar where -there were so many rats.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“But why don’t they open their eyes?” Nina puzzled. -“They are blind, like beggars!”</p> - -<p class='c011'><span class='pageno' id='Page_58'>58</span>Vania, too, was perturbed by this phenomenon. He -set to work to open the eyes of one of the kittens, and -puffed and snuffled over his task for a long time, but -the operation proved to be unsuccessful. The children -were also not a little worried because the kittens obstinately -refused all meat and milk set before them. -Their grey mother ate everything that was put under -their little noses.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Come on, let’s make some little houses for the -kitties!” Vania suggested. “Then they can live in -their own separate homes and the old kitty can come -and visit them.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>They put hat-boxes in various corners of the -kitchen, and the kittens were transferred to their new -homes. But this family separation proved to be -premature. With the same imploring, sentimental -look on her face, the cat made the round of the boxes -and carried her babies back to their former nest.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Kitty is their mother,” Vania reflected. “But -who is their father?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Yes, who is their father?” Nina repeated.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“They <i>must</i> have a father,” both decided.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Vania and Nina debated for a long time as to who -should be the father of the kittens. At last their -choice fell upon a large dark-red horse with a broken -tail who had been thrown into a cupboard under the -stairs and there lay awaiting his end in company with -other rubbish and broken toys. This horse they -dragged forth and set up beside the box.</p> - -<p class='c011'><span class='pageno' id='Page_59'>59</span>“Mind now!” the children admonished him. “Stand -there and see they behave themselves!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Shortly before dinner Vania was sitting at the table -in his father’s study dreamily watching a kitten that -lay squirming on the blotting-paper under the lamp. -His eyes were following each movement of the little -creature and he was trying to force first a pencil and -then a match into its mouth. Suddenly his father -appeared beside the table as if he had sprung from -the floor.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“What’s that?” Vania heard him ask in an angry -voice.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“It’s—it’s a little kitty, papa.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I’ll show you a little kitty! Look what you’ve -done, you bad boy, you’ve messed up the whole -blotter!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>To Vania’s intense surprise, his papa did not share -his affection for kittens. Instead of going into raptures -and rejoicing over it with him, he pulled Vania’s ear -and shouted:</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Stepan! Come and take this nasty thing away!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>At dinner, too, a scandal occurred. During the -second course the family suddenly heard a faint -squeaking. A search for the cause was made and a -kitten was discovered under Nina’s apron.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Nina, leave the table at once!” cried her father -angrily. “Stepan, throw the kittens into the slop-barrel -this minute! I won’t have such filth in the -house!”</p> - -<p class='c011'><span class='pageno' id='Page_60'>60</span>Vania and Nina were horrified. Apart from its -cruelty, death in the slop-barrel threatened to deprive -the old cat and the wooden horse of their children, -to leave the box deserted, and to upset all their plans -for the future, that beautiful future in which one cat -would take care of its old mother, one would live in -the country, and the third would catch rats in the -cellar. The children began to cry and to beg for the -lives of the kittens. Their father consented to spare -them on condition that the children should under no -circumstances go into the kitchen or touch the kittens.</p> - -<p class='c011'>When dinner was over, Vania and Nina roamed disconsolately -through the house, pining for their pets. -The prohibition to enter the kitchen had plunged them -in gloom. They refused candy when it was offered -them and were cross and rude to their mother. When -their Uncle Peter came in the evening they took him -aside and complained to him of their father who wanted -to throw the kittens into the slop-barrel.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Uncle Peter,” they begged. “Tell mamma to -have the kittens brought into the nursery! Do tell -her!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“All right, all right!” their uncle consented to get -rid of them.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Uncle Peter seldom came alone. There generally appeared -with him Nero, a big black Dane with flapping -ears and a tail as hard as a stick. He was a silent and -gloomy dog, full of the consciousness of his own dignity. -He ignored the children and thumped them with his -<span class='pageno' id='Page_61'>61</span>tail as he stalked by them as if they had been chairs. -The children cordially hated him, but this time practical -considerations triumphed over sentiment.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Do you know what, Nina?” said Vania, opening -his eyes very wide. “Let’s make Nero their father -instead of the horse! The horse is dead and he is -alive.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>They waited all the evening for the time to come -when papa should sit down to his whist and Nero -might be admitted into the kitchen. At last papa -began playing. Mamma was busy over the samovar -and was not noticing the children—the happy moment -had come!</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Come on!” Vania whispered to his sister.</p> - -<p class='c011'>But just then Stepan came into the room and announced -with a smile:</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Madame, Nero has eaten the kittens!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Nina and Vania paled and looked at Stepan in -horror.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Indeed he has!” chuckled the butler. “He has -found the box and eaten every one!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>The children imagined that every soul in the house -would spring up in alarm and fling themselves upon -that wicked Nero. But instead of this they all sat -quietly in their places and only seemed surprised at -the appetite of the great dog. Papa and mamma -laughed. Nero walked round the table wagging his -tail and licking his chops with great self-satisfaction. -Only the cat was uneasy. With her tail in the air she -<span class='pageno' id='Page_62'>62</span>roamed through the house, looking suspiciously at -every one and mewing pitifully.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Children, it’s ten o’clock! Go to bed!” cried -mamma.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Vania and Nina went to bed crying and lay for a -long time thinking about the poor, abused kitty and -that horrid, cruel, unpunished Nero.</p> - -<div> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_63'>63</span> - <h3 class='c009'>A MATTER OF CLASSICS</h3> -</div> - -<p class='drop-capa0_0_6 c010'>Before going to take his Greek examination, -Vania Ottopeloff devoutly kissed every icon in -the house. He felt a load on his chest and his blood -ran cold, while his heart beat madly and sank into -his boots for fear of the unknown. What would become -of him to-day? Would he get a B or a C? He -asked his mother’s blessing six times over, and, as he -left the house, he begged his aunt to pray for him. -On his way to school he gave two copecks to a beggar, -hoping that these two coins might redeem him from -ignorance and that God would not let those numeral -nouns with their terrible “Tessarakontas” and “Oktokaidekas” -get in his way.</p> - -<p class='c011'>He came back from school late, at five o’clock, and -went silently to his room to lie down. His thin cheeks -were white and dark circles surrounded his eyes.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Well? What happened? What did you get?” -asked his mother coming to his bedside.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Vania blinked, made a wry face, and burst into -tears. Mamma’s jaw dropped, she grew pale and -threw up her hands, letting fall a pair of trousers which -she had been mending.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“What are you crying for? You have failed, I suppose?” -she asked.</p> - -<p class='c011'><span class='pageno' id='Page_64'>64</span>“Yes, I’ve—I’ve been plucked. I got a C.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I knew that would happen, I had a presentiment -that it would!” his mother exclaimed. “The Lord -have mercy on us! What did you fail in?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“In Greek—Oh, mother—they asked me the future -of Phero and, instead of answering Oisomai, I answered -Opsomai; and then—and then the accent is not used -if the last syllable is a diphthong, but—but I got confused, -I forgot that the alpha was long and put on the -accent. Then we had to decline Artaxerxes and I got -muddled and made a mistake in the ablative—so he -gave me a C—Oh, I’m the unhappiest boy in the -whole world! I worked all last night—I have got -up at four every morning this week——”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“No, it is not you who are unhappy, you good-for-nothing -boy, it is I! You have worn me as thin as a -rail, you monster, you thorn in my flesh, you wicked -burden on your parents! I have wept for you, I have -broken my back working for you, you worthless trifler, -and what is my reward? Have you learned a thing?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I—I study—all night—you see that yourself——”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I have prayed God to send death to deliver me, -poor sinner, but death will not come. You bane of my -existence! Other people have decent children, but my -only child isn’t worth a pin. Shall I beat you? I would -if I could, but where shall I get the strength to do it? -Mother of God, where shall I get the strength?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Mamma covered her face with the hem of her dress -and burst into tears. Vania squirmed with grief and -<span class='pageno' id='Page_65'>65</span>pressed his forehead against the wall. His aunt came -in.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“There, now, I had a presentiment of this!” she -exclaimed, turning pale and throwing up her hands as -she guessed at once what had happened. “I felt low -in my mind all this morning; I knew we should -have trouble, and here it is!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“You viper! You bane of my existence!” exclaimed -Vania’s mother.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Why do you abuse him?” the boy’s aunt scolded -the mother, nervously pulling off the coffee-coloured -kerchief she wore on her head. “How is he to blame? -It is your fault! Yours! Why did you send him to -that school? What sort of lady are you? Do you -want to climb up among the gentlefolk? Aha! You -will certainly get there at this rate! If you had done -as I told you, you would have put him into business -as I did my Kuzia. There’s Kuzia now making five -hundred roubles a year. Is that such a trifle that you -can afford to laugh at it? You have tortured yourself -and tortured the boy with all this book-learning, -worse luck to it! See how thin he is! Hear him cough! -He is thirteen years old and he looks more like ten.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“No, Nastenka, no, darling, I haven’t beaten that -tormentor of mine much, and beating is what he -needs. Ugh! You Jesuit! You Mohammedan! -You thorn in my flesh!” she cried, raising her hand -as if to strike her son. “I should thrash you if I had -the strength. People used to say to me when he was -<span class='pageno' id='Page_66'>66</span>still little: ‘Beat him! Beat him!’ But I didn’t listen -to them, unhappy woman that I am! So now I have -to suffer for it. But wait a bit, I’ll have your ears -boxed! Wait a bit——”</p> - -<p class='c011'>His mother shook her fist at him and went weeping -into the room occupied by her lodger, Eftiki Kuporosoff. -The lodger was sitting at his table reading “Dancing -Self-Taught.” This Kuporosoff was considered a -clever and learned person. He spoke through his nose, -washed with scented soap that made every one in the -house sneeze, ate meat on fast-days, and was looking -for an enlightened wife; for these reasons he thought -himself an extremely intellectual lodger. He also possessed -a tenor voice.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Dear me!” cried Vania’s mother, running into his -room with the tears streaming down her cheeks. “Do -be so very kind as to thrash my boy! Oh, <i>do</i> do me -that favour! He has failed in his examinations! Oh, -misery me! Can you believe it, he has failed! I -can’t punish him myself on account of being so weak -and in bad health, so do thrash him for me! Be kind, -be chivalrous and do it for me, Mr. Kuporosoff! Have -mercy on a sick woman!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Kuporosoff frowned and heaved a very deep sigh -through his nostrils. He reflected, drummed on the -table with his fingers, sighed once more, and went -into Vania’s room.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Look here!” he began his harangue. “Your parents -are trying to educate you, aren’t they, and give -<span class='pageno' id='Page_67'>67</span>you a start in life, you miserable young man? Then -why do you act like this?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>He held forth for a long time, he made quite a speech. -He referred to science, and to darkness and light.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Yes, indeed, young man!” he exclaimed from -time to time.</p> - -<p class='c011'>When he had concluded, he took off his belt and -caught hold of Vania’s ear.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“This is the only way to treat you!” he exclaimed.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Vania knelt down obediently and put his head on -Kuporosoff’s knees. His large pink ears rubbed against -Kuporosoff’s new brown-striped trousers.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Vania made not a sound. That evening at a family -conclave it was decided to put him into business at -once.</p> - -<div> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_68'>68</span> - <h3 class='c009'>THE TUTOR</h3> -</div> - -<p class='drop-capa0_0_6 c010'>The high-school boy Gregory Ziboroff condescendingly -shakes hands with little Pete Udodoff. -Pete, a chubby youngster of twelve with bristling hair, -red cheeks, and a low forehead, dressed in a little -grey suit, bows and scrapes, and reaches into the cupboard -for his books. The lesson begins.</p> - -<p class='c011'>According to an agreement made with Udodoff, the -father, Ziboroff is to help Pete with his lessons for two -hours each day, in return for which he is to receive six -roubles a month. He is preparing the boy for the -second grade of the high-school. He prepared him for -the first grade last year, but little Pete failed to pass -his examinations.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Very well,” begins Ziboroff lighting a cigarette. -“You had the fourth declension to study. Decline -<span lang="la" xml:lang="la">fructus</span>!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Peter begins to decline it.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“There, you haven’t studied again!” cries Ziboroff -rising. “This is the sixth time I have given you the -fourth declension to learn, and you can’t get it through -your head! For heaven’s sake, when will you ever -begin to study your lessons?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“What, you haven’t studied again?” exclaims a -<span class='pageno' id='Page_69'>69</span>wheezing voice in the next room and Pete’s papa, a -retired civil servant, enters. “Why haven’t you -studied? Oh, you little donkey! Just think, Gregory, -I had to thrash him again yesterday!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Sighing profoundly, Udodoff sits down beside his -son and opens the boy’s ragged grammar. Ziboroff -begins examining Pete before his father, thinking to -himself: “I’ll just show that stupid father what a -stupid son he has!” The high-school boy is seized with -the fury of the examiner and is ready to beat the little -red-cheeked numskull before him, he hates and despises -him so. He is even annoyed when the youngster -hits on the right answer to one of his questions. How -odious this little Pete seems to him!</p> - -<p class='c011'>“You don’t even know the second declension! You -don’t even know the first! This is the way you learn -your lessons! Come, tell me, what is the vocative of -meus filius?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“The vocative of meus filius? Why the vocative -of meus filius is—it is——”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Pete stares hard at the ceiling and moves his lips -inaudibly. No answer comes.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“What is the dative of dea?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Deabus—filiabus!” Pete bursts out.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Old Udodoff nods approvingly. The high-school -boy, who was not expecting a correct answer, feels -annoyed.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“What other nouns have their dative in abus?” -he asks.</p> - -<p class='c011'><span class='pageno' id='Page_70'>70</span>It appears that anima, the soul, has its dative in abus, -something that is not to be found in any grammar.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“What a melodious language Latin is!” observes -Udodoff. “Alontron—bonus—anthropos—how marvellous! -It is all very important!” he concludes with -a sigh.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“The old brute is interrupting the lesson,” thinks -Ziboroff. “Sitting over us like an inspector—I hate -to be bossed! Now, then!” he cries to Pete. “You -must learn that same lesson over again for next time. -Next we’ll do some arithmetic. Fetch your slate! I -want you to do this problem.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Pete spits on his slate and rubs it dry with his -sleeve. His tutor picks up the arithmetic and dictates -the following problem to him.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“‘If a merchant buys 138 yards of cloth, some of -which is black and some blue, for 540 roubles, how -many yards of each did he buy if the blue cloth cost -5 roubles a yard and the black cloth 3?’ Repeat what -I have just said.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Peter repeats the problem and instantly and silently -begins to divide 540 by 138.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“What are you doing? Wait a moment! No, no, -go ahead! Is there a remainder? There ought not -to be. Here, let me do it!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Ziboroff divides 540 by 138, and finds that it goes -three times and something over. He quickly rubs out -the sum.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“How queer!” he thinks, ruffling his hair and flushing. -<span class='pageno' id='Page_71'>71</span>“How should it be done? H’m—this is an indeterminate -equation and not a sum in arithmetic at -all——”</p> - -<p class='c011'>The tutor looks in the back of the book and finds -that the answer is 75 and 63.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“H’m—that’s queer. Ought I to add 5 and 3 and -divide 540 by 8? Is that right? No that’s not it. -Come, do the sum!” he says to Pete.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“What’s the matter with you? That’s an easy -problem!” cries Udodoff to Peter. “What a goose -you are, sonny! Do it for him, Mr. Ziboroff!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Gregory takes the pencil and begins figuring. He -hiccoughs and flushes and pales.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“The fact is, this is an algebraical problem,” he says. -“It ought to be solved with <i>x</i> and <i>y</i>. But it can be -done in this way, too. Very well, I divide this by this, -do you understand? Now then, I subtract it from -this, see? Or, no, let me tell you, suppose you do this -sum yourself for to-morrow. Think it out alone!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Pete smiles maliciously. Udodoff smiles, too. Both -realize the tutor’s perplexity. The high-school boy becomes -still more violently embarrassed, rises, and begins -to walk up and down.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“That sum can be done without the help of algebra,” -says Udodoff, sighing and reaching for the counting -board. “Look here!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>He rattles the counting board for a moment, and -produces the answer 75 and 63, which is correct.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“That’s how we ignorant folks do it.”</p> - -<p class='c011'><span class='pageno' id='Page_72'>72</span>The tutor falls a prey to the most unbearably painful -sensations. He looks at the clock with a sinking -heart, and sees that it still lacks an hour and a quarter -to the end of the lesson. What an eternity that is!</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Now we will have some dictation,” he says.</p> - -<p class='c011'>After the dictation comes a lesson in geography; -after that, Bible study; after Bible study, Russian—there -is so much to learn in this world! At last the -two hours’ lesson is over, Ziboroff reaches for his cap, -condescendingly shakes hands with little Pete, and -takes his leave of Udodoff.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Could you let me have a little money to-day?” -he asks timidly. “I must pay my school bill to-morrow. -You owe me for six months’ lessons.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Oh, do I really? Oh, yes, yes—” mutters Udodoff. -“I would certainly let you have the money with -pleasure, but I’m sorry to say I haven’t any just now. -Perhaps in a week—or two.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Ziboroff acquiesces, puts on his heavy goloshes, and -goes out to give his next lesson.</p> - -<div> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_73'>73</span> - <h3 class='c009'>OUT OF SORTS</h3> -</div> - -<p class='drop-capa0_0_6 c010'>Simon Pratchkin, a commissioner of the rural -police, was walking up and down the floor of his -room trying to smother a host of disagreeable sensations. -He had gone to see the chief of police on business -the evening before, and had unexpectedly sat down to -a game of cards at which he had lost eight roubles. -The amount was a trifle, but the demons of greed and -avarice were whispering in his ear the accusation that -he was a spendthrift.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Eight roubles—a mere nothing!” cried Pratchkin, -trying to drown the voices of the demons. “People -often lose more than that without minding it at all. -Besides, money is made to spend. One trip to the -factory, one visit to Piloff’s tavern, and eight roubles -would have been but a drop in a bucket!”</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b c012'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>“It is winter; horse and peasant——”</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c013'>monotonously murmured Pratchkin’s son Vania, in the -next room.</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b c012'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>“Down the road triumphant go—triumphant go——”</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c011'>“Triumphant!” Pratchkin went on, pursuing the -train of his thoughts. “If he had been stuck for a -<span class='pageno' id='Page_74'>74</span>dozen roubles he wouldn’t have been so triumphant! -What is he so triumphant about? Let him pay his -debts on time! Eight roubles—what a trifle! That’s -not eight thousand roubles. One can always win -eight roubles back again.”</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b c012'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>“And the pony trots his swiftest</div> - <div class='line'>For he feels the coming snow—</div> - <div class='line'>For he feels the coming snow.”</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c011'>“Well, he wouldn’t be likely to go at a gallop, would -he? Was he supposed to be a race-horse? He was a -hack, a broken-down old hack! Foolish, drunken peasants -always want to go at breakneck speed, and then, -when they fall into an ice-hole, or down a precipice, some -one has to haul them out and doctor them. If I had -my way, I’d prescribe a kind of turpentine for them that -they wouldn’t forget in a hurry! And why did I lead -a low card? If I had led the ace of clubs, I wouldn’t -have fallen into a hole myself——”</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b c012'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>“O’er the furrows soft and crumbling</div> - <div class='line'>Flies the sleigh so free and wild—</div> - <div class='line'>O’er the furrows soft and crumbling——”</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c011'>“Crumbling—crumbling furrows—what stuff that -is! People will let those writers scribble anything. It -was that ten-spot that made all the trouble. Why the -devil did it have to turn up just at that moment?”</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b c012'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>“When a little boy comes tumbling—comes tumbling</div> - <div class='line'>Down the road a merry child—a merry child.”</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c011'><span class='pageno' id='Page_75'>75</span>“If the boy was running he must have been overeating -himself and been naughty. Parents never will -put their children to work. Instead of playing, that -boy ought to have been splitting kindling, or reading -the Bible—and I hadn’t the sense to come away! -What an ass I was to stay after supper! Why didn’t -I have my meal and go home?”</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b c012'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>“At the window stands his mother,</div> - <div class='line'>Shakes her finger—shakes her finger at the boy——”</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c011'>“She shakes her finger at him, does she? The -trouble with her is, she is too lazy to go out-of-doors -and punish him. She ought to catch him by his little -coat and give him a good spanking. It would do him -more good than shaking her finger at him. If she -doesn’t take care, he will grow up to be a drunkard. -Who wrote that?” asked Pratchkin aloud.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Pushkin, papa.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Pushkin? H’m. What an ass he is! People like -that simply write without knowing themselves what -they are saying.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Papa, here’s a peasant with a load of flour!” cried -Vania.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Let some one take charge of it!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>The arrival of the flour failed to cheer Pratchkin. -The more he tried to console himself, the more poignant -grew his sense of loss, and he regretted those eight -roubles as keenly as if they had in reality been eight -thousand. When Vania finished studying his lesson -<span class='pageno' id='Page_76'>76</span>and silence fell, Pratchkin was standing gloomily at -the window, his mournful gaze fixed upon the snowdrifts -in the garden. But the sight of the snowdrifts -only opened wider the wound in his breast. They -reminded him of yesterday’s expedition to the chief -of police. His spleen rose and embittered his heart. -The need to vent his sorrow reached such a pitch that -it would brook no delay. He could endure it no -longer.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Vania!” he shouted. “Come here and let me whip -you for breaking that window-pane yesterday!”</p> - -<div class='chapter'> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_77'>77</span> - <h2 class='c005'>STORIES OF YOUTH</h2> -</div> - -<div> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_79'>79</span> - <h3 class='c009'>A JOKE</h3> -</div> - -<p class='drop-capa0_0_6 c010'>It was noon of a bright winter’s day. The air was -crisp with frost, and Nadia, who was walking beside -me, found her curls and the delicate down on her -upper lip silvered with her own breath. We stood at -the summit of a high hill. The ground fell away at -our feet in a steep incline which reflected the sun’s -rays like a mirror. Near us lay a little sled brightly -upholstered with red.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Let us coast down, Nadia!” I begged. “Just once! -I promise you nothing will happen.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>But Nadia was timid. The long slope, from where -her little overshoes were planted to the foot of the ice-clad -hill, looked to her like the wall of a terrible, yawning -chasm. Her heart stopped beating, and she held -her breath as she gazed into that abyss while I urged -her to take her seat on the sled. What might not -happen were she to risk a flight over that precipice! -She would die, she would go mad!</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Come, I implore you!” I urged her again. “Don’t -be afraid! It is cowardly to fear, to be timid.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>At last Nadia consented to go, but I could see from -her face that she did so, she thought, at the peril of -<span class='pageno' id='Page_80'>80</span>her life. I seated her, all pale and trembling, in the -little sled, put my arm around her, and together we -plunged into the abyss.</p> - -<p class='c011'>The sled flew like a shot out of a gun. The riven -wind lashed our faces; it howled and whistled in our -ears, and plucked furiously at us, trying to wrench our -heads from our shoulders; its pressure stifled us; we -felt as if the devil himself had seized us in his talons, -and were snatching us with a shriek down into the infernal -regions. The objects on either hand melted into -a long and madly flying streak. Another second, and -it seemed we must be lost!</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I love you, Nadia!” I whispered.</p> - -<p class='c011'>And now the sled began to slacken its pace, the -howling of the wind and the swish of the runners -sounded less terrible, we breathed again, and found -ourselves at the foot of the mountain at last. Nadia, -more dead than alive, was breathless and pale. I -helped her to her feet.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Not for anything in the world would I do that -again!” she said, gazing at me with wide, terror-stricken -eyes. “Not for anything on earth. I nearly -died!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>In a few minutes, however, she was herself again, -and already her inquiring eyes were asking the question -of mine:</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Had I really uttered those four words, or had she -only fancied she heard them in the tumult of the -wind?”</p> - -<p class='c011'><span class='pageno' id='Page_81'>81</span>I stood beside her smoking a cigarette and looking -attentively at my glove.</p> - -<p class='c011'>She took my arm and we strolled about for a long -time at the foot of the hill. It was obvious that the -riddle gave her no peace. Had I spoken those words -or not? It was for her a question of pride, of honour, -of happiness, of life itself, a very important question, -the most important one in the whole world. Nadia -looked at me now impatiently, now sorrowfully, now -searchingly; she answered my questions at random -and waited for me to speak. Oh, what a pretty play -of expression flitted across her sweet face! I saw that -she was struggling with herself; she longed to say -something, to ask some question, but the words would -not come; she was terrified and embarrassed and -happy.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Let me tell you something,” she said, without -looking at me.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“What?” I asked.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Let us—let us slide down the hill again!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>We mounted the steps that led to the top of the hill. -Once more I seated Nadia, pale and trembling, in the -little sled, once more we plunged into that terrible -abyss; once more the wind howled, and the runners -hissed, and once more, at the wildest and most tumultuous -moment of our descent, I whispered:</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I love you, Nadia!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>When the sleigh had come to a standstill, Nadia -threw a backward look at the hill down which we had -<span class='pageno' id='Page_82'>82</span>just sped, and then gazed for a long time into my face, -listening to the calm, even tones of my voice. Every -inch of her, even her muff and her hood, every line of -her little frame expressed the utmost uncertainty. On -her face was written the question:</p> - -<p class='c011'>“What can it have been? Who spoke those words? -Was it he, or was it only my fancy?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>The uncertainty of it was troubling her, and her -patience was becoming exhausted. The poor girl had -stopped answering my questions, she was pouting and -ready to cry.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Had we not better go home?” I asked.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I—I love coasting!” she answered with a blush. -“Shall we not slide down once more?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>She “loved” coasting, and yet, as she took her seat -on the sled, she was as trembling and pale as before and -scarcely could breathe for terror!</p> - -<p class='c011'>We coasted down for the third time and I saw her -watching my face and following the movements of my -lips with her eyes. But I put my handkerchief to my -mouth and coughed, and when we were half-way down -I managed to say:</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I love you, Nadia!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>So the riddle remained unsolved! Nadia was left -pensive and silent. I escorted her home, and as she -walked she shortened her steps and tried to go slowly, -waiting for me to say those words. I was aware of the -struggle going on in her breast, and of how she was -forcing herself not to exclaim:</p> - -<p class='c011'><span class='pageno' id='Page_83'>83</span>“The wind could not have said those words! I -don’t want to think that it said them!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Next day I received the following note:</p> - -<p class='c011'>“If you are going coasting, to-day, call for me. N.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Thenceforth Nadia and I went coasting every day, -and each time that we sped down the hill on our little -sled I whispered the words:</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I love you, Nadia!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Nadia soon grew to crave this phrase as some people -crave morphine or wine. She could no longer live -without hearing it! Though to fly down the hill was -as terrible to her as ever, danger and fear lent a -strange fascination to those words of love, words which -remained a riddle to torture her heart. Both the wind -and I were suspected; which of us two was confessing -our love for her now seemed not to matter; let the -draught but be hers, and she cared not for the goblet -that held it!</p> - -<p class='c011'>One day, at noon, I went to our hill alone. There -I perceived Nadia. She approached the hill, seeking -me with her eyes, and at last I saw her timidly mounting -the steps that led to the summit. Oh, how fearful, -how terrifying she found it to make that journey -alone! Her face was as white as the snow, and she -shook as if she were going to her doom, but up she -climbed, firmly, without one backward look. Clearly -she had determined to discover once for all whether -those wondrously sweet words would reach her ears if -I were not there. I saw her seat herself on the sled -<span class='pageno' id='Page_84'>84</span>with a pale face and lips parted with horror, saw her -shut her eyes and push off, bidding farewell for ever -to this world. “zzzzzzz!” hissed the runners. What -did she hear? I know not—I only saw her rise tired -and trembling from the sled, and it was clear from her -expression that she could not herself have said what -she had heard; on her downward rush terror had -robbed her of the power of distinguishing the sounds -that came to her ears.</p> - -<p class='c011'>And now, with March, came the spring. The sun’s -rays grew warmer and brighter. Our snowy hillside -grew darker and duller, and the ice crust finally melted -away. Our coasting came to an end.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Nowhere could poor Nadia now hear the beautiful -words, for there was no one to say them; the wind was -silent and I was preparing to go to St. Petersburg for a -long time, perhaps for ever.</p> - -<p class='c011'>One evening, two days before my departure, I sat -in the twilight in a little garden separated from the -garden where Nadia lived by a high fence surmounted -by iron spikes. It was cold and the snow was still on -the ground, the trees were lifeless, but the scent of -spring was in the air, and the rooks were cawing noisily -as they settled themselves for the night. I approached -the fence, and for a long time peered through a chink -in the boards. I saw Nadia come out of the house -and stand on the door-step, gazing with anguish and -longing at the sky. The spring wind was blowing -directly into her pale, sorrowful face. It reminded -<span class='pageno' id='Page_85'>85</span>her of the wind that had howled for us on the hillside -when she had heard those four words, and with that -recollection her face grew very sad indeed, and the -tears rolled down her cheeks. The poor child held -out her arms as if to implore the wind to bring those -words to her ears once more. And I, waiting for a -gust to carry them to her, said softly:</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I love you, Nadia!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Heavens, what an effect my words had on Nadia! -She cried out and stretched forth her arms to the wind, -blissful, radiant, beautiful....</p> - -<p class='c011'>And I went to pack up my things. All this happened -a long time ago. Nadia married, whether for -love or not matters little. Her husband is an official -of the nobility, and she now has three children. But -she has not forgotten how we coasted together and -how the wind whispered to her:</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I love you, Nadia!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>That memory is for her the happiest, the most -touching, the most beautiful one of her life.</p> - -<p class='c011'>But as for me, now that I have grown older, I can -no longer understand why I said those words and why -I jested with Nadia.</p> - -<div> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_86'>86</span> - <h3 class='c009'>AFTER THE THEATRE</h3> -</div> - -<p class='drop-capa0_0_6 c010'>When Nadia Zelenia came home with her mother -from the theatre, where they had been to see -“Evgeni Onegin,” and found herself in her own room -once more, she took off her dress, loosened her hair, and -hastened to sit down at her desk in her petticoat -and little white bodice, to write a letter in the style of -Tatiana.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I love you,” she wrote, “but you do not, no, you -do not love me!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>As she wrote this she began to laugh.</p> - -<p class='c011'>She was only sixteen and had never been in love in -her life. She knew that the officer Gorni and the student -Gruzdieff both loved her, but now, after seeing the -opera, she did not want to believe it. How attractive -it would be to be wretched and spurned! It was, somehow, -so poetical, so beautiful and touching, when one -loved while the other remained cold and indifferent! -Onegin was arresting because he did not love Tatiana, -but Tatiana was enchanting because she loved so ardently. -Had they both loved one another equally well -and been happy, might not both have been uninteresting?</p> - -<p class='c011'>“No longer think that you love me,” Nadia continued, -thinking of Gorni. “I cannot believe it. You -<span class='pageno' id='Page_87'>87</span>are clever and serious and wise; you are a very talented -man, and may have a brilliant future before you. -I am a stupid, frivolous girl and you know yourself that -I should only hinder you in your life. You were attracted -to me, it is true; you thought you had found -your ideal in me, but that was a mistake. Already you -are asking yourself: why did I ever meet that girl? -Only your kindness prevents you from acknowledging -this.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Nadia began to feel very sorry for herself, she burst -into tears and continued:</p> - -<p class='c011'>“If it were not so hard to leave mamma and my -brother, I should take the veil and go away to the -ends of the earth. Then you would be free to love -some one else.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Nadia’s tears now prevented her from seeing what -she was writing; little rainbows were trembling across -the table, the floor, and the ceiling, and it seemed to -her as though she were looking through a prism. To -go on writing was impossible, so she threw herself back -in her chair and began thinking of Gorni.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Goodness, how attractive, how fascinating men -were! Nadia remembered the beautiful expression -that came over Gorni’s face when he was talking of -music. How humble, how engaging, how gentle he -then looked, and what efforts he made not to let his -voice betray the passion he felt! Emotion must be -concealed in society where haughtiness and chilly indifference -are the marks of good breeding and a good -<span class='pageno' id='Page_88'>88</span>education, so he would try to hide his feelings, but in -vain. Every one knew that he loved music madly. -Endless arguments about music and the bold criticisms -of Philistines kept his nerves constantly on edge, -so that he appeared to be timid and silent. He played -the piano beautifully, and if he had not been an officer -he would certainly have become a musician.</p> - -<p class='c011'>The tears dried on Nadia’s cheeks. She remembered -that Gorni had proposed to her at a symphony -concert and had later repeated his proposal down-stairs -by the coat rack, where they were standing in -a strong draught.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I am very glad that you have at last come to -know Gruzdieff,” she went on. “He is a very clever -man and you are sure to be friends. He came to see -us yesterday evening and stayed until two. We were -all in raptures over him, and I was sorry that you had -not come, too. He talked wonderfully.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Nadia laid her arms on the table and rested her -head upon them, and her hair fell over the letter. She -remembered that Gruzdieff was in love with her, too, -and that he had as much right to her letter as Gorni -had. On second thoughts, would it not be better to -send it to him? A causeless happiness stirred in her -breast; at first it was tiny, and rolled gently about -there like a small rubber ball; then it grew larger and -fuller, and at last gushed up like a fountain. Nadia -forgot Gorni and Gruzdieff, and her thoughts grew -confused, but her rapture rose and rose, until it flowed -<span class='pageno' id='Page_89'>89</span>from her breast into her hands and feet, and a fresh, -gentle breeze seemed to be fanning her head and stirring -her hair. Her shoulders shook with soft laughter; -the table shook, the lamp-chimney trembled, and -tears gushed from her eyes over the letter. She was -powerless to control her laughter, so she hastened to -think of something funny to prove that her mirth was -not groundless.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Oh, what a ridiculous poodle!” she cried, feeling -a little faint from laughing. “What a ridiculous -poodle!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>She remembered that Gruzdieff had romped with -their poodle Maxim yesterday after tea, and had told -her a story of a very intelligent poodle, who chased a -jackdaw around a garden. The jackdaw had turned -round while the poodle was chasing him, and said:</p> - -<p class='c011'>“You scoundrel, you!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Not knowing that it was a trained bird, the poodle -had been dreadfully dismayed; he had slunk away in -perplexity and had afterward begun to howl.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Yes, I think I shall have to love Gruzdieff,” Nadia -decided, and she tore up the letter.</p> - -<p class='c011'>So she began to muse on the student, and on his love -and hers, but her thoughts were soon rambling, and she -found herself thinking of many things: of her mother, -of the street, of the pencil, and of the piano.... -She thought of all this with pleasure, and everything -seemed to her to be beautiful and good, but her happiness -told her that this was not all, there was a great -<span class='pageno' id='Page_90'>90</span>deal more to come in a little while, which would be -much better even than this. Spring would soon be -here, and then summer would come, and she would go -with her mother to Gorbiki, and there Gorni would -come on his holidays, and would take her walking in -the garden and make love to her.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Gruzdieff would come, too; he would play croquet -and bowls with her, and tell her funny and thrilling -stories. She longed for the garden, the darkness, the -clear sky, and the stars. Once more her shoulders -shook with laughter; the room seemed to her to be -filled with the scent of lavender, and a twig tapped -against the window-pane.</p> - -<p class='c011'>She went across to the bed, sat down, and, not -knowing what to do because of the great happiness -that filled her heart, she fixed her eyes on the little -icon that hung at the head of her bed, and murmured:</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Oh! Lord! Lord! Lord!”</p> - -<div> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_91'>91</span> - <h3 class='c009'>VOLODIA</h3> -</div> - -<p class='drop-capa0_0_6 c010'>One Sunday evening in spring Volodia, a plain, -shy, sickly lad of seventeen, was sitting, a prey -to melancholy, in a summer-house on the country place -of the Shumikins. His gloomy reflections flowed in -three different channels. In the first place, to-morrow, -Monday, he would have to take an examination in -mathematics. He knew that if he did not pass he -would be expelled from school, as he had already been -two years in the sixth grade. In the second place, his -pride suffered constant agony during his visits to the -Shumikins, who were rich people with aristocratic -pretensions. He imagined that Madame Shumikin -and her nieces looked down upon his mother and himself -as poor relations and dependents, and that they -made fun of his mother and did not respect her. He -had once overheard Madame Shumikin saying on the -terrace to her cousin Anna Feodorovna that she was -still pretending to be young, and that she never paid -her debts and had a great hankering after other people’s -shoes and cigarettes. Every day Volodia would implore -his mother not to go to the Shumikins’ again. -He painted for her the humiliating rôle which she -played among these people, he entreated her and spoke -<span class='pageno' id='Page_92'>92</span>rudely to her, but the spoiled, frivolous woman, who -had wasted two fortunes in her day, her own and her -husband’s, yearned for high life and refused to understand -him, so that twice every week Volodia was -obliged to accompany her to the hated house.</p> - -<p class='c011'>In the third place, the lad could not free himself for -a moment from a certain strange, unpleasant feeling -that was entirely new to him. He imagined himself to -be in love with Anna Feodorovna, the cousin and guest -of Madame Shumikin. Anna Feodorovna was a talkative, -lively, laughing little lady of thirty; healthy, -rosy, and strong, with plump shoulders, a plump chin, -and an eternal smile on her thin lips. She was neither -pretty nor young. Volodia knew this perfectly well, -and for that very reason he was unable to refrain from -thinking of her, from watching her as she bent her -plump shoulders over her croquet mallet, or, as she, -after much laughter and running up and down-stairs, -sank all out of breath into a chair, and with half-closed -eyes pretended that she felt a tightness and strangling -across the chest. She was married, and her husband -was a staid architect who came down into the country -once a week, had a long sleep, and then returned to the -city. This feeling on Volodia’s part began with an -unreasoning hatred of the architect, and a sensation -of joy whenever he returned to the city.</p> - -<p class='c011'>And now, as he sat in the summer-house thinking -about to-morrow’s examination and his mother, whom -every one laughed at, he felt a great longing to see -<span class='pageno' id='Page_93'>93</span>Nyuta, as the Shumikins called Anna Feodorovna, -and to hear her laughter and the rustling of her dress. -This longing did not resemble the pure, poetic love of -which he had read in novels, and of which he dreamed -every night as he went to bed. It was a strange and -incomprehensible thing, and he was ashamed and -afraid of it as of something wicked and wrong which -he hardly dared to acknowledge even to himself.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“This is not love,” he thought. “One does not fall -in love with a woman of thirty. It is simply a little -intrigue; yes, it is a little intrigue.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Thinking about intrigues, he remembered his invincible -shyness, his lack of a moustache, his freckles, -his little eyes, and pictured himself standing beside -Nyuta. The contrast was impossible. So he hastened -to imagine himself handsome and bold and witty, -dressed in the latest fashion....</p> - -<p class='c011'>In the very heat of his imaginings, as he sat huddled -in a dark corner of the summer-house with his eyes -fixed on the ground, he heard light footsteps approaching. -Some one was hurrying down the garden -path. The footsteps ceased and a figure clad in white -gleamed in the doorway.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Is any one there?” asked a woman’s voice.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Volodia recognised the voice and raised his head in -alarm.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Who is there?” asked Nyuta, stepping into the -summer-house. “Ah, is it you, Volodia? What are -you doing in there? Brooding? How can you always -<span class='pageno' id='Page_94'>94</span>be brooding and brooding? It’s enough to drive you -crazy!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Volodia rose and looked at Nyuta in confusion. -She was on her way back from the bath-house; a -Turkish towel hung across her shoulders, and a few -damp locks of hair had escaped from under her white -silk kerchief and were clinging to her forehead. She -exhaled the cool, damp odour of the river, and the -scent of almond soap. The upper button of her blouse -was undone, so that her neck and throat were visible -to the lad.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Why don’t you say something?” asked Nyuta, -looking Volodia up and down. “It is rude not to -answer when a lady speaks to you. What a stick-in-the-mud -you are, Volodia, always sitting and thinking -like some stodgy old philosopher, and never opening -your mouth! You have no vim in you, no fire! You -are horrid, really! A boy of your age ought to live, -and frisk, and chatter, and fall in love, and make love -to the ladies.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Volodia stared at the towel which she was holding -in her plump, white hand and pondered.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“He won’t answer!” cried Nyuta in surprise. “This -is too strange, really! Listen to me, be a man! At -least smile! Bah! What a horrid dry-as-dust you -are!” she laughed. “Volodia, do you know what makes -you such a boor? It’s because you never make love. -Why don’t you do it? There are no girls here, I know, -but what is to prevent you from making love to a -<span class='pageno' id='Page_95'>95</span>woman? Why don’t you make love to me, for instance?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Volodia listened to her and rubbed his forehead in -intense, painful irresolution.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“It is only proud people who never speak and like -to be alone,” Nyuta continued, pulling his hand down -from his forehead. “You are proud, Volodia. Why -do you squint at me like that? Look me in the eye, -if you please. Now then, stick-in-the-mud!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Volodia made up his mind to speak. In an effort to -smile he stuck out his lower lip, blinked his eyes, and -his hand again went to his head.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I—I love you!” he exclaimed.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Nyuta raised her eyebrows in astonishment and -burst out laughing.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“What is this I hear?” she chanted as singers do -in an opera when they hear a terrible piece of news. -“What? What did you say? Say it again! Say it -again!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I—I love you!” Volodia repeated.</p> - -<p class='c011'>And involuntarily, without premeditation and not -realising what he was doing, he took a step toward -Nyuta and seized her arm above the wrist. Tears -started into his eyes, and the whole world seemed to -turn into a huge Turkish towel smelling of the river.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Bravo, bravo!” he heard a laughing voice cry approvingly. -“Why don’t you say something? I want -to hear you speak! Now, then!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Seeing that he was permitted to hold her arm, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_96'>96</span>Volodia looked into Nyuta’s laughing face and awkwardly, -uneasily, put both arms around her waist, -bringing his wrists together behind her back. As he -held her thus, she put her hands behind her head showing -the dimples in her elbows, and, arranging her hair -under her kerchief, she said in a quiet voice:</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I want you to become bright and agreeable and -charming, Volodia, and this you can only accomplish -through the influence of women. Why, what a horrid -cross face you have! You ought to laugh and talk. -Honestly, Volodia, don’t be a stick! You are young -yet; you will have plenty of time for philosophising -later on. And now, let me go. I’m in a hurry to get -back. Let me go, I tell you!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>She freed herself without effort, and went out of the -summer-house singing a snatch of song. Volodia was -left alone. He smoothed his hair, smiled, and walked -three times round the summer-house. Then he sat -down and smiled again. He felt an unbearable sense -of mortification, and even marvelled that human shame -could reach such a point of keenness and intensity. -The feeling made him smile again and wring his -hands and whisper a few incoherent phrases.</p> - -<p class='c011'>He felt humiliated because he had just been treated -like a little boy, and because he was so shy, but chiefly -because he had dared to put his arms around the waist -of a respectable married woman, when neither his age -nor, as he thought, his social position, nor his appearance -warranted such an act.</p> - -<p class='c011'><span class='pageno' id='Page_97'>97</span>He jumped up and, without so much as a glance -behind him, hurried away into the depths of the garden, -as far away from the house as he could go.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Oh, if we could only get away from here at once!” -he thought, seizing his head in his hands. “Oh, -quickly, quickly!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>The train on which Volodia and his mother were to -go back to town left at eight-forty. There still remained -three hours before train time, and he would -have liked to have gone to the station at once without -waiting for his mother.</p> - -<p class='c011'>At eight o’clock he turned toward the house. His -whole figure expressed determination and seemed to -be proclaiming: “Come what may, I am prepared for -anything!” He had made up his mind to go in boldly, -to look every one straight in the face, and to speak -loudly no matter what happened.</p> - -<p class='c011'>He crossed the terrace, passed through the drawing-room -and the living-room, and stopped in the hall to -catch his breath. He could hear the family at tea in -the adjoining dining-room; Madame Shumikin, his -mother, and Nyuta were discussing something with -laughter.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Volodia listened.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I assure you I could scarcely believe my eyes!” -Nyuta cried. “I hardly recognised him when he began -to make love to me, and actually—will you believe -it?—put his arms around my waist! He has -quite a way with him! When he told me that he loved -<span class='pageno' id='Page_98'>98</span>me, he had the look of a wild animal, like a Circassian.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“You don’t say so!” cried his mother, rocking with -long shrieks of laughter. “You don’t say so! How -like his father he is!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Volodia jumped back, and rushed out into the fresh -air.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“How can they all talk about it?” he groaned, -throwing up his arms and staring with horror at the -sky. “Aloud, and in cold blood, too! And mother -laughed! Mother! Oh, God, why did you give me -such a mother? Oh, why?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>But enter the house he must, happen what might. -He walked three times round the garden, and then, -feeling more composed, he went in.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Why didn’t you come in to tea on time?” asked -Madame Shumikin sternly.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Excuse me, it—it is time for me to go—” Volodia -stammered, without raising his eyes. “Mother, it is -eight o’clock!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Go along by yourself, dear,” answered his mother -languidly. “I am spending the night here with Lily. -Good-by, my boy, come, let me kiss you.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>She kissed her son and said in French:</p> - -<p class='c011'>“He reminds one a little of Lermontov, doesn’t he?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Volodia managed to take leave of the company -somehow without looking any one in the face, and ten -minutes later he was striding along the road to the -station, glad to be off at last. He now no longer felt -<span class='pageno' id='Page_99'>99</span>frightened or ashamed, and could breathe deeply and -freely once more.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Half a mile from the station he sat down on a stone -by the wayside and began looking at the sun, which -was now half hidden behind the horizon. A few small -lights were already gleaming here and there near the -station, and a dim green ray shone out, but the train -had not yet appeared. It was pleasant to sit there -quietly, watching the night slowly creeping across the -fields. The dim summer-house, Nyuta’s light footsteps, -the smell of the bath-house, her laughter, and -her waist—all these things rose up before Volodia’s -fancy with startling vividness, and now no longer -seemed terrible and significant to him as they had a -few hours before.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“What nonsense! She did not pull her hand away; -she laughed when I put my arm around her waist,” -he thought. “Therefore she must have enjoyed it. If -she had not liked it she would have been angry——”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Volodia was vexed now at not having been bolder. -He regretted that he was stupidly running away, and -was convinced that, were the same circumstances to -occur again, he would be more manly and look at the -thing more simply——</p> - -<p class='c011'>But it would not be hard to bring those circumstances -about. The Shumikins always strolled about -the garden for a long time after supper. If Volodia -were to go walking with Nyuta in the dark—there -would be the chance to re-enact the same scene!</p> - -<p class='c011'><span class='pageno' id='Page_100'>100</span>“I’ll go back and leave on an early train to-morrow -morning,” he decided. “I’ll tell them I missed this -train.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>So he went back. Madame Shumikin, his mother, -Nyuta, and one of the nieces were sitting on the terrace -playing cards. When Volodia told them his story -about having missed the train they were uneasy lest -he should be late for his examination, and advised him -to get up early next morning. Volodia sat down at -a little distance from the card-players, and during the -whole game kept his eyes fixed on Nyuta. He had already -determined on a plan. He would go up to -Nyuta in the dark, take her hand, and kiss her. It -would not be necessary for either to speak; they -would understand one another without words.</p> - -<p class='c011'>But the ladies did not go walking after supper; they -continued their game instead. They played until one -o’clock, and then all separated for the night.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“How stupid this is!” thought Volodia, with annoyance. -“But never mind, I’ll wait until to-morrow. -To-morrow in the summer-house—never mind!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>He made no effort to go to sleep, but sat on the edge -of his bed with his arms around his knees and thought. -The idea of the examination was odious to him. He -had already made up his mind that he was going to -be expelled, and that there was nothing terrible about -that. On the contrary, it was a good thing, a very -good thing. To-morrow he would be as free as a -bird. He would leave off his schoolboy’s uniform for -<span class='pageno' id='Page_101'>101</span>civilian clothes, smoke in public, and come over here -to make love to Nyuta whenever he liked. He would -be a young man. As for what people called his career -and his future, that was perfectly clear. Volodia -would not enter the government service, but would -become a telegraph operator or have a drug store, and -become a pharmaceutist. Were there not plenty of -careers open to a young man? An hour passed, two -hours passed, and he was still sitting on the edge of -his bed and thinking——</p> - -<p class='c011'>At three o’clock, when it was already light, his door -was cautiously pushed open and his mother came into -the room.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Aren’t you asleep yet?” she asked with a yawn. -“Go to sleep, go to sleep. I’ve just come in for a -moment to get a bottle of medicine.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“For whom?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Poor Lily is ill again. Go to sleep, child, you have -an examination to-morrow.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>She took a little bottle out of the closet, held it to -the window, read the label, and went out.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Oh, Maria, that isn’t it!” he heard a woman’s voice -exclaim. “That is Eau de Cologne, and Lily wants -morphine. Is your son awake? Do ask him to find -it!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>The voice was Nyuta’s. Volodia’s heart stopped -beating. He hastily put on his trousers and coat and -went to the door.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Do you understand? I want morphine!” explained -<span class='pageno' id='Page_102'>102</span>Nyuta in a whisper. “It is probably written -in Latin. Wake Volodia, he will be able to find it!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Volodia’s mother opened the door, and he caught -sight of Nyuta. She was wearing the same blouse -she had worn when she came from the bath-house. -Her hair was hanging loose, and her face looked sleepy -and dusky in the dim light.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“There, Volodia is awake!” she exclaimed. “Volodia, -do get me the morphine out of the closet, there’s -a good boy. What a nuisance Lily is! She always -has something the matter with her.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>The mother murmured something, yawned, and -went away.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Come, find it!” cried Nyuta. “What are you -standing there for?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Volodia went to the closet, knelt down, and began -searching among the bottles of medicine and pill-boxes -there. His hands were trembling and cold chills -were running down his chest and back. He aimlessly -seized bottles of ether, carbolic acid, and various boxes -of herbs in his shaking hands, spilling and scattering -the contents. The smell overpowered him and made -his head swim.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Mother has gone—” he thought. “That’s good—good.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Hurry!” cried Nyuta.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Just a moment—there, this must be it!” said -Volodia having deciphered the letters “morph—” on -one of the labels. “Here it is!”</p> - -<p class='c011'><span class='pageno' id='Page_103'>103</span>Nyuta was standing in the doorway with one foot -in the hall and one in Volodia’s room. She was twisting -up her hair—which was no easy matter, for it was -long and thick—and was looking vacantly at Volodia. -In the dim radiance shed by the white, early -morning sky, with her full blouse and her flowing hair, -she looked to him superb and entrancing. Fascinated, -trembling from head to foot, and remembering with -delight how he had embraced her in the summer-house, -he handed her the bottle and said:</p> - -<p class='c011'>“You are——”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“What?” she asked smiling.</p> - -<p class='c011'>He said nothing; he looked at her, and then, as he -had done in the summer-house, he seized her hand.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I love you—” he whispered.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Volodia felt as if the room and Nyuta, and the -dawn, and he himself had suddenly rushed together -into a keen, unknown feeling of happiness for which he -was ready to give his whole life and lose his soul for -ever, but half a minute later it all suddenly vanished.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Well, I must go—” said Nyuta, looking contemptuously -at Volodia. “What a pitiful, plain boy -you are—Bah, you ugly duckling!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>How hideous her long hair, her full blouse, her footsteps -and her voice now seemed to him!</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Ugly duckling!” he thought. “Yes, I am indeed -ugly—everything is ugly.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>The sun rose; the birds broke into song; the sound -of the gardener’s footsteps and the creaking of his -<span class='pageno' id='Page_104'>104</span>wheelbarrow rose from the garden. The cows lowed -and the notes of a shepherd’s pipe trembled in the air. -The sunlight and all these manifold sounds proclaimed -that somewhere in the world there could be found a -life that was pure, and gracious, and poetic. Where -was it? Neither Volodia’s mother, nor any one of the -people who surrounded the boy had ever spoken of -it to him.</p> - -<p class='c011'>When the man servant came to call him for the -morning train, he pretended to be asleep.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Oh, to thunder with it all!” he thought.</p> - -<p class='c011'>He got up at eleven. As he brushed his hair before -the mirror he looked at his plain face, so pale after his -sleepless night, and thought:</p> - -<p class='c011'>“She is quite right. I really am an ugly duckling.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>When his mother saw him and seemed horrified at -his not having gone to take his examination, Volodia -said:</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I overslept, mamma, but don’t worry; I can give -them a certificate from the doctor.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Madame Shumikin and Nyuta woke at one o’clock. -Volodia heard the former throw open her window -with a bang, and heard Nyuta’s ringing laugh answer -her rough voice. He saw the dining-room door -flung open and the nieces and dependents, among -whom was his mother, troop in to lunch. He saw -Nyuta’s freshly washed face, and beside it the black -eyebrows and beard of the architect, who had just -come.</p> - -<p class='c011'><span class='pageno' id='Page_105'>105</span>Nyuta was in Little Russian costume, and this was -not becoming to her and made her look clumsy. The -architect made some vulgar, insipid jests, and Volodia -thought that there were a terrible lot of onions in the -stew that day. He also thought that Nyuta was -laughing loudly and looking in his direction on purpose -to let him understand that the memory of last -night did not worry her in the least, and that she -scarcely noticed the presence at table of the ugly -duckling.</p> - -<p class='c011'>At four o’clock Volodia and his mother drove to -the station. The lad’s sordid memories, his sleepless -night, and the pangs of his conscience aroused in him -a feeling of painful and gloomy anger. He looked at -his mother’s thin profile, at her little nose, and at the -rain-coat that had been a gift to her from Nyuta, -and muttered:</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Why do you powder your face? It does not become -you at all! You try to look pretty, but you -don’t pay your debts, and you smoke cigarettes that -aren’t yours! It’s disgusting! I don’t like you, no, -I don’t, I don’t!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>So he insulted her, but she only rolled her eyes in -terror and, throwing up her hands, said in a horrified -whisper:</p> - -<p class='c011'>“What are you saying? Heavens, the coachman -will hear you! Do hush, he can hear everything!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I don’t like you! I don’t like you!” he went on, -struggling for breath. “You are without morals or -<span class='pageno' id='Page_106'>106</span>heart. Don’t dare to wear that rain-coat again, do -you hear me? If you do, I’ll tear it to shreds!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Control yourself, child!” wept his mother. “The -coachman will hear you!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Where is my father’s fortune? Where is your own? -You have squandered them both. I am not ashamed -of my poverty, but I am ashamed of my mother. I -blush whenever the boys at school ask me about you.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>The village was two stations from town. During -the whole journey Volodia stood on the platform of -the car, trembling from head to foot, not wanting to -go inside because his mother, whom he hated, was sitting -there. He hated himself, and the conductor, and -the smoke of the engine, and the cold to which he -ascribed the shivering fit that had seized him. The -heavier his heart grew, the more convinced he became -that somewhere in the world there must be people -who lived a pure, noble, warm-hearted, gracious life, -full of love, and tenderness, and merriment, and freedom. -He felt this and suffered so keenly from the -thought that one of the passengers looked intently at -him, and said:</p> - -<p class='c011'>“You must have a toothache!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Volodia and his mother lived with a widow who -rented a large apartment and let rooms to lodgers. -His mother had two rooms, one with windows where her -own bed stood, and another adjoining it, which was -small and dark, where Volodia lived. A sofa, on which -he slept, was the only furniture of this little room; all -<span class='pageno' id='Page_107'>107</span>the available space was taken up by trunks full of -dresses, and by hat-boxes and piles of rubbish which -his mother had seen fit to collect. Volodia studied his -lessons in his mother’s room, or in the “parlour,” -as the large room was called, where the lodgers assembled -before dinner and in the evening.</p> - -<p class='c011'>On reaching home, Volodia threw himself down on -his sofa and covered himself with a blanket, hoping -to cure his shivering fit. The hat-boxes, the trunks, -and the rubbish, all proclaimed to him that he had -no room of his own, no corner in which he could take -refuge from his mother, her guests, and the voices -that now assailed his ears from the parlour. His -school satchel and the books that lay scattered about -the floor reminded him of the examination he had -missed. Quite unexpectedly there rose before his -eyes a vision of Mentone, where he had lived with his -father when he was seven years old. He recalled -Biarritz, and two little English girls with whom he had -played on the beach. He vainly tried to remember the -colour of the sky, and the ocean, and the height of the -waves, and how he had then felt; the little English -girls flashed across his vision with all the vividness of -life, but the rest of the picture was confused and -gradually faded away.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“It is too cold here,” Volodia thought. He got up, -put on his overcoat, and went into the parlour.</p> - -<p class='c011'>The inmates of the house were assembled there at -tea. His mother, an old maid music teacher with -<span class='pageno' id='Page_108'>108</span>horn spectacles, and Monsieur Augustin, a fat Frenchman, -who worked in a perfume factory, were sitting -near the samovar.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I haven’t had dinner to-day,” his mother was -saying. “I must send the maid for some bread.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Duniash!” shouted the Frenchman.</p> - -<p class='c011'>It appeared that the maid had been sent on an -errand by her mistress.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Oh, no matter!” said the Frenchman, smiling -broadly. “I go for the bread myself! Oh, no matter!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>He laid down his strong, reeking cigar in a conspicuous -place, put on his hat, and went out.</p> - -<p class='c011'>When he had gone, Volodia’s mother began telling -the music teacher of her visit to Madame Shumikin’s, -and of the enthusiastic reception she had had there.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Lily Shumikin is a relative of mine, you know,” -she said. “Her husband, General Shumikin, was a -cousin of my husband’s. She was the Baroness Kolb -before her marriage.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Mother, that isn’t true!” cried Volodia exasperated. -“Why do you lie so?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Now he knew that his mother was not lying, and -that in her account of General Shumikin and Baroness -Kolb there was not a word of untruth, but he felt none -the less as if she were lying. The tone of her voice, -the expression of her face, her glance—all were false.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“It’s a lie!” Volodia repeated, bringing his fist down -on the table with such a bang that the cups and -saucers rattled and mamma spilled her tea. “What -<span class='pageno' id='Page_109'>109</span>makes you talk about generals and baronesses? It’s -all a lie!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>The music teacher was embarrassed and coughed -behind her handkerchief, as if she had swallowed a -crumb. Mamma burst into tears.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“How can I get away from here?” thought Volodia.</p> - -<p class='c011'>He was ashamed to go to the house of any of his -school friends. Once more he unexpectedly remembered -the two little English girls. He walked across the -parlour and into Monsieur Augustin’s room. There -the air smelled strongly of volatile oils and glycerine -soap. Quantities of little bottles full of liquids of -various colours cluttered the table, the window-sills, -and even the chairs. Volodia took up a paper and -read the heading: “Le Figaro.” The paper exhaled -a strong and pleasant fragrance. He picked up a -revolver that lay on the table.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“There, there, don’t mind what he says!” the music -teacher was consoling his mother in the next room. -“He is still young, and young men always do foolish -things. We must make up our minds to that.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“No, Miss Eugenia, he has been spoiled,” moaned -his mother. “There is no one who has any authority -over him, and I am too weak to do anything. Oh, I -am very unhappy.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Volodia put the barrel of the revolver into his -mouth, felt something which he thought was the -trigger, and pulled—Then he found another little -hook and pulled again. He took the revolver out of -<span class='pageno' id='Page_110'>110</span>his mouth and examined the lock. He had never held -a firearm in his hands in his life.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I suppose this thing ought to be raised,” he -thought. “Yes, I think that is right.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Monsieur Augustin entered the parlour laughing -and began to recount some adventure he had had on -the way. Volodia once more put the barrel into his -mouth, seized it between his teeth, and pulled a little -hook he felt with his fingers. A shot rang out—something -hit him with tremendous force in the back -of the neck, and he fell forward upon the table with -his face among the bottles and glasses. He saw his -father wearing a high hat with a wide silk band, -because he was wearing mourning for some lady in -Mentone, and felt himself suddenly seized in his arms -and fall with him into a very deep, black abyss.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Then everything grew confused and faded away.</p> - -<div> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_111'>111</span> - <h3 class='c009'>A NAUGHTY BOY</h3> -</div> - -<p class='drop-capa0_0_6 c010'>Ivan Lapkin, a youth of pleasing exterior, and -Anna Zamblitskaya, a girl with a tip-tilted nose, -descended the steep river bank and took their seats -on a bench at its foot. The bench stood at the water’s -edge in a thicket of young willows. It was a lovely -spot. Sitting there, one was hidden from all the -world and observed only by fish and the daddy-longlegs -that skimmed like lightning across the surface of -the water. The young people were armed with fishing-rods, -nets, cans containing worms, and other fishing -appurtenances. They sat down on the bench and immediately -began to fish.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I am glad that we are alone at last,” began Lapkin -glancing behind him. “I have a great deal to say to -you, Miss Anna, a very great deal. When first I saw -you—you’ve got a bite!—I realized at last the reason -for my existence. I knew that you were the idol at -whose feet I was to lay the whole of an honourable -and industrious life—that’s a big one biting! On seeing -you I fell in love for the first time in my life. I -fell madly in love!—Don’t pull yet, let it bite a little -longer!—Tell me, dearest, I beg you, if I may aspire, -not to a return of my affection—no, I am not worthy of -that, I dare not even dream of it—but tell me if I may -<span class='pageno' id='Page_112'>112</span>aspire to—pull!” With a shriek, Anna jerked the arm -that held the fishing-rod into the air; a little silvery-green -fish dangled glistening in the sunlight.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Goodness gracious, it’s a perch! Oh, oh, be quick, -it’s coming off!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>The perch fell off the hook, flopped across the grass -toward its native element, and splashed into the water.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Somehow, while pursuing it, Lapkin accidentally -seized Anna’s hand instead of the fish and accidentally -pressed it to his lips. Anna pulled it away, but it was -too late, their lips accidentally met in a kiss. It all -happened accidentally. A second kiss succeeded the -first, and then followed vows and the plighting of troth. -Happy moments! But perfect bliss does not exist on -earth, it often bears a poison in itself, or else is poisoned -by some outside circumstances. So it was in this case. -When the young people had exchanged kisses they -heard a sudden burst of laughter. They looked at the -river in stupefaction; before them, up to his waist in -water, stood a naked boy: it was Kolia, Anna’s schoolboy -brother! He stood there smiling maliciously with -his eyes fixed on the young people.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Aha! You’re kissing one another, are you? All -right, I’ll tell mamma!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I hope that, as an honourable boy—” faltered -Lapkin, blushing. “To spy on us is mean, but to -sneak is low, base, vile. I am sure that, as a good and -honourable boy, you——”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Give me a rouble and I won’t say anything!” -<span class='pageno' id='Page_113'>113</span>answered the honourable boy. “If you don’t, I’ll tell -on you——”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Lapkin took a rouble from his pocket and gave it to -Kolia. The boy seized it in his wet hand, whistled, -and swam away. The young couple exchanged no -more kisses on that occasion.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Next day Lapkin brought Kolia a box of paints from -town and a ball; his sister gave him all her old pill-boxes. -They next had to present him with a set of -studs with little dogs’ heads on them. The bad boy -obviously relished the game and began spying on them -so as to get more presents. Wherever Lapkin and -Anna went, there he went too. He never left them to -themselves for a moment.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“The little wretch!” muttered Lapkin grinding his -teeth. “So young and yet so great a rascal! What -will become of us?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>All through the month of June Kolia tormented the -unhappy lovers. He threatened them with betrayal, he -spied on them, and then demanded presents; he could -not get enough, and at last began talking of a watch. -The watch was given him.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Once during dinner, while the waffles were on the -table, he burst out laughing, winked, and said to -Lapkin:</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Shall I tell them, eh?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Lapkin blushed furiously and put his napkin into -his mouth instead of a waffle. Anna jumped up from -the table and ran into another room.</p> - -<p class='c011'><span class='pageno' id='Page_114'>114</span>The young people remained in this situation until -the end of August when the day at last came on which -Lapkin proposed for Anna’s hand. Oh, what a joyful -day it was! No sooner had he spoken with his sweetheart’s -parents and obtained their consent to his suit, -than Lapkin rushed into the garden in search of Kolia. -He nearly wept with exultation on finding him, and -caught the wicked boy by the ear. Anna came running -up, too, looking for Kolia, and seized him by the other -ear. The pleasure depicted on the faces of the lovers -when Kolia wept and begged for mercy was well worth -seeing.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Dear, good, sweet angels, I won’t do it again! -Ouch, ouch! Forgive me!” Kolia implored them.</p> - -<p class='c011'>They confessed afterward that during all their courtship -they had never once experienced such bliss, such -thrilling rapture, as they did during those few moments -when they were pulling the ears of that wicked boy.</p> - -<div> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_115'>115</span> - <h3 class='c009'>BLISS</h3> -</div> - -<p class='drop-capa0_0_6 c010'>It was midnight. Suddenly Mitia Kuldaroff burst -into his parents’ house, dishevelled and excited, -and went flying through all the rooms. His father -and mother had already gone to rest; his sister was in -bed finishing the last pages of a novel, and his schoolboy -brothers were fast asleep.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“What brings you here?” cried his astonished parents. -“What is the matter?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Oh, don’t ask me! I never expected anything -like this! No, no, I never expected it! It is—it is -absolutely incredible!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Mitia burst out laughing and dropped into a chair, -unable to stand on his feet from happiness.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“It is incredible! You can’t imagine what it is! -Look here!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>His sister jumped out of bed, threw a blanket over -her shoulders, and went to her brother. The schoolboys -woke up——</p> - -<p class='c011'>“What’s the matter with you? You look like a -ghost.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“It’s because I’m so happy, mother. I am known -all over Russia now. Until to-day, you were the only -people who knew that such a person as Dimitri Kuldaroff -<span class='pageno' id='Page_116'>116</span>existed, but now all Russia knows it! Oh, -mother! Oh, heavens!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Mitia jumped up, ran through all the rooms, and -dropped back into a chair.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“But what has happened? Talk sense!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“You live like wild animals, you don’t read the -news, the press is nothing to you, and yet there are so -many wonderful things in the papers! Everything -that happens becomes known at once, nothing remains -hidden! Oh, how happy I am! Oh, heavens! -The newspapers only write about famous people, and -now there is something in them about me!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“What do you mean? Where is it?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Papa turned pale. Mamma glanced at the icon -and crossed herself. The schoolboys jumped out of -bed and ran to their brother in their short nightshirts.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Yes, sir! There is something about me in the -paper! The whole of Russia knows it now. Oh, -mother, keep this number as a souvenir; we can -read it from time to time. Look!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Mitia pulled a newspaper out of his pocket and -handed it to his father, pointing to an item marked -with a blue pencil.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Read that!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>His father put on his glasses.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Come on, read it!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Mamma glanced at the icon once more, and crossed -herself. Papa cleared his throat, and began:</p> - -<p class='c011'><span class='pageno' id='Page_117'>117</span>“At 11 <span class='fss'>P. M.</span>, on December 27, a young man by -the name of Dimitri Kuldaroff——”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“See? See? Go on!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“A young man by the name of Dimitri Kuldaroff, -coming out of a tavern on Little Armourer Street, and -being in an intoxicated condition——”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“That’s it, I was with Simion Petrovitch! Every -detail is correct. Go on! Listen!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“—being in an intoxicated condition, slipped and -fell under the feet of a horse belonging to the cabman -Ivan Drotoff, a peasant from the village of Durinka -in the province of Yuknofski. The frightened horse -jumped across Kuldaroff’s prostrate body, pulling the -sleigh after him. In the sleigh sat Stepan Lukoff, a -merchant of the Second Moscow Guild of Merchants. -The horse galloped down the street, but was finally -stopped by some house porters. For a few moments -Kuldaroff was stunned. He was conveyed to the police -station and examined by a doctor. The blow which -he had sustained on the back of the neck——”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“That was from the shaft, papa. Go on! Read -the rest!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“—the blow which he had sustained on the back of -the neck was pronounced to be slight. The victim -was given medical assistance.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“They put cold-water bandages round my neck. -Do you believe me now? What do you think? Isn’t -it great? It has gone all over Russia by now! Give -me the paper!”</p> - -<p class='c011'><span class='pageno' id='Page_118'>118</span>Mitia seized the paper, folded it, and put it into his -pocket, exclaiming:</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I must run to the Makaroffs, and show it to them! -And the Ivanoffs must see it, too, and Natalia, and -Anasim—I must run there at once! Good-bye!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Mitia crammed on his cap and ran blissfully and -triumphantly out into the street.</p> - -<div> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_119'>119</span> - <h3 class='c009'>TWO BEAUTIFUL GIRLS</h3> -</div> - -<h4 class='c014'>I</h4> - -<p class='drop-capa0_0_6 c010'>When I was a schoolboy in the fifth or sixth -grade, I remember driving with my grandfather -from the little village where we lived to Rostoff-on-Don. -It was a sultry, long, weary August day. -Our eyes were dazzled, and our throats were parched -by the heat, and the dry, burning wind kept whirling -clouds of dust in our faces. We desired only not to -open our eyes or to speak, and when the sleepy Little -Russian driver Karpo flicked my cap, as he brandished -his whip over his horse, I neither protested nor uttered -a sound, but, waking from a half-doze, I looked meekly -and listlessly into the distance, hoping to descry a -village through the dust. We stopped to feed the -horse at the house of a rich Armenian whom my grandfather -knew in the large Armenian village of Baktchi-Salak. -Never in my life have I seen anything more of -a caricature, than our Armenian host. Picture to -yourself a tiny, clean-shaven head, thick, overhanging -eyebrows, a beak-like nose, a long, grey moustache, and -a large mouth, out of which a long chibouk of cherry-wood -is hanging. This head was clumsily stuck on -<span class='pageno' id='Page_120'>120</span>a stooping little body clothed in a fantastic costume -consisting of a bob tailed red jacket and wide, bright -blue breeches. The little man walked shuffling his -slippers, with his feet far apart. He did not remove -his pipe from his mouth when he spoke, and carried -himself with true Armenian dignity, staring-eyed and -unsmiling, doing his best to ignore his guests as much -as possible.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Although there was neither wind nor dust in the -Armenian’s house, it was as uncomfortable and stifling -and dreary in there as it had been on the road across -the steppe. Dusty and heavy with the heat, I sat -down on a green trunk in a corner. The wooden walls, -the furniture, and the floor painted with yellow ochre -smelled of dry wood blistering in the sun. Wherever -the eye fell, were flies, flies, flies—My grandfather -and the Armenian talked together in low voices of -pasturage and fertilising and sheep. I knew that it -would be an hour before the samovar would be brought, -and that grandfather would then drink tea for at least -an hour longer, after which he would lie down for a -two or three hours’ nap. A quarter of the day would -thus be spent by me in waiting, after which we would -resume the dust, the swelter, and the jolting of the -road. I heard the two voices murmuring together, and -began to feel as if I had been looking for ever at the -Armenian, the china closet, the flies, and the windows -through which the hot sun was pouring, and that I -should only cease to look at them in the distant future. -<span class='pageno' id='Page_121'>121</span>I was seized with hatred of the steppe, the sun, and -the flies.</p> - -<p class='c011'>A Little Russian woman, with a kerchief on her head, -brought in first a tray of dishes, and then the samovar. -The Armenian went without haste to the hall door, -and called:</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Mashia! Come and pour the tea! Where are -you, Mashia?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>We heard hurried footfalls, and a girl of sixteen in -a plain cotton dress, with a white kerchief on her head, -entered the room. Her back was turned toward me -as she stood arranging the tea-things and pouring the -tea, and all I could see was that she was slender and -barefooted, and that her little toes were almost hidden -by her long, full trousers.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Our host invited me to sit down at the table, and -when I was seated, I looked into the girl’s face as she -handed me my glass. As I looked, I suddenly felt as -if a wind had swept over my soul, blowing away all -the impressions of the day with its tedium and dust. -I beheld there the enchanting features of the most -lovely face I had ever seen, waking or in my dreams. -Before me stood a very beautiful girl; I recognised -that at a glance, as one recognises a flash of lightning.</p> - -<p class='c011'>I am ready to swear that Masha—or, as her father -called her, Mashia—was really beautiful, but I cannot -prove it. Sometimes, in the evening, the clouds lie -piled high on the horizon, and the sun, hidden behind -them, stains them and the sky with a hundred colours, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_122'>122</span>crimson, orange, gold, violet, and rosy pink. One -cloud resembles a monk; another, a fish; a third, a -turbaned Turk. The glow embraces one-third of the -sky, flashing from the cross on the church, and the -windows of the manor-house, lighting up the river -and the meadows, and trembling upon the tree tops. -Far, far away against the sunset a flock of wild ducks -is winging its way to its night’s resting-place. And -the little cowherd with his cows, and the surveyor -driving along the river dyke in his cart, and the inmates -of the manor-house strolling in the evening air, -all gaze at the sunset, and to each one it is supremely -beautiful, but no one can say just where its beauty -lies.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Not I alone found the young Armenian beautiful. -My grandfather, an octogenarian, stern and indifferent -to women and to the beauties of Nature, looked -gently at Masha for a whole minute, and then asked:</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Is that your daughter, Avet Nazaritch?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Yes, that is my daughter,” answered our host.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“She is a fine girl,” the old man said heartily.</p> - -<p class='c011'>An artist would have called the Armenian’s beauty -classic and severe. It was the type of beauty in whose -presence you feel that here are features of perfect -regularity; that the hair, the eyes, the nose, the mouth, -the chin, the neck, the breast, and every movement -of the young body are merged into a perfect and -harmonious chord, in which Nature has not sounded -one false note. You somehow feel that a woman of -<span class='pageno' id='Page_123'>123</span>ideal beauty should have just such a nose as Masha’s, -slender, with the slightest aquiline curve; just such -large, dark eyes and long lashes; just such a languorous -glance; that her dusky, curly hair and her black eyebrows -match the delicate, tender white tint of her -forehead and cheeks as green reeds match the waters -of a quiet river. Masha’s white throat and young -breast were scarcely developed, and yet it seemed as -if to chisel them one would have had to possess the -highest creative genius. You looked at her, and little -by little the longing seized you to say something wonderfully -kind to her; something beautiful and true; -something as beautiful as the girl herself.</p> - -<p class='c011'>I was hurt and humiliated at first that Masha should -keep her eyes fixed on the ground as she did and fail -to notice me. I felt as if a strange atmosphere of happiness -and pride were blowing between us, sighing -jealously at every glance of mine.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“It is because I am all sunburned and dusty,” I -thought. “And because I am still a boy.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>But later I gradually forgot my feelings, and abandoned -myself to her beauty heart and soul. I no -longer remembered the dust and tedium of the steppe, -nor heard the buzzing of the flies; I did not taste the -tea, and only felt that there, across the table, stood -that lovely girl.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Her beauty had a strange effect upon me. I experienced -neither desire, nor rapture, nor pleasure, but -a sweet, oppressive sadness, as vague and undefinable -<span class='pageno' id='Page_124'>124</span>as a dream. I was sorry for myself, and for my grandfather, -and for the Armenian, and for the girl herself, -and felt as if each one of us had lost something significant -and essential to our lives, which we could never -find again. Grandfather, too, grew sad and no longer -talked of sheep and pasturage, but sat in silence, his -eyes resting pensively on Masha.</p> - -<p class='c011'>When tea was over, grandfather lay down to take -his nap, and I went out and sat on the little porch at -the front door. Like all the other houses in Baktchi-Salak, -this one stood in the blazing sun; neither trees -nor eaves threw any shade about it. The great courtyard, -all overgrown with dock and nettles, was full of -life and gaiety in spite of the intense heat. Wheat was -being threshed behind one of the low wattle fences that -intersected it in various places, and twelve horses were -trotting round and round a post that had been driven -into the middle of the threshing-floor. A Little Russian -in a long, sleeveless coat, and wide breeches, was walking -beside the horses cracking his whip over them, and -shouting as if to excite them, and at the same time to -vaunt his mastery over them.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Ah—ah—ah—you little devils! Ah—ah, the cholera -take you! Are you not afraid of me?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Not knowing why they were being forced to trot -round in a circle, trampling wheat straw under their -feet, the horses—bay, white and piebald—moved unwillingly -and wearily, angrily switching their tails. -The wind raised clouds of golden chaff under their -<span class='pageno' id='Page_125'>125</span>hoofs, and blew it away across the fence. Women with -rakes were swarming among the tall stacks of fresh -straw, tip-carts were hurrying to and fro, and behind -the stacks in an adjoining courtyard another dozen -horses were trotting around a post, and another Little -Russian was cracking his whip and making merry over -them.</p> - -<p class='c011'>The steps on which I was sitting were fiery hot, the -heat had drawn drops of resin from the slender porch -railing and the window-sills, and swarms of ruddy -little beetles were crowded together in the strips of -shade under the blinds and steps. The sun’s rays -were beating on my head, and breast, and back, but I -was unconscious of them, and only felt that there, behind -me, those bare feet were pattering about on the -deal floor. Having cleared away the tea-things, Masha -ran down the steps, a little gust sweeping me as she -passed, and flew like a bird into a small, smoky -building that was no doubt the kitchen, from which -issued a smell of roasting mutton and the angry -tones of an Armenian voice. She vanished into the -dark doorway, and in her stead there appeared on the -threshold an old, humpbacked Armenian crone, in -green trousers. The old woman was in a rage, and was -scolding some one. Masha soon came out on the -threshold again, flushed with the heat of the kitchen, -bearing a huge loaf of black bread on her shoulder. -Bending gracefully under its weight, she ran across the -court in the direction of the threshing-floor, leaped -<span class='pageno' id='Page_126'>126</span>over the fence, and plunged into the clouds of golden -chaff. The Little Russian driver lowered his whip, -stopped his cries, and gazed after her for a moment; -then, when the girl appeared again beside the horses, -and jumped back over the fence, he followed her once -more with his eyes, and cried to his horses in a tone -of affliction:</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Ah—ah—the Evil One fly away with you!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>From then on I sat and listened to the unceasing -fall of her bare feet, and watched her whisking about -the courtyard, with her face so serious and intent. -Now she would run up the steps, fanning me with a -whirl of wind; now dart into the kitchen; now across -the threshing-floor; now out through the front gate, -and all so fast that I could barely turn my head quickly -enough to follow her with my eyes.</p> - -<p class='c011'>And the oftener she flashed across my vision with -her beauty, the more profound my sadness grew. I -pitied myself, and her, and the Little Russian sadly -following her with his eyes each time that she ran -through the cloud of chaff and past the straw-stacks. -Was I envious of her beauty? Did I regret that this -girl was not and never could be mine, and that I -must for ever remain a stranger to her? Did I dimly -realise that her rare loveliness was a freak of nature, -vain, perishable like everything else on earth? Or -did my sadness spring from a feeling peculiar to every -heart at the sight of perfect beauty? Who shall say?</p> - -<p class='c011'>The three hours of waiting passed before I was -<span class='pageno' id='Page_127'>127</span>aware. It seemed to me that I had scarcely had a -chance to look at Masha, before Karpo rode down to -the river to wash off his horse, and began to harness -up. The wet animal whinnied with delight, and struck -the shafts with his hoofs. Karpo shouted “Ba—ack!” -Grandfather woke up. Masha threw open the creaking -gates; we climbed into our carriage and drove out -of the courtyard. We travelled in silence, as if there -had been a quarrel between us.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Three hours later, when we could already see Rostoff -in the distance, Karpo, who had not spoken since we -left the Armenian village, looked round swiftly and said:</p> - -<p class='c011'>“That Armenian has a pretty daughter!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>And as he said this he lashed his horse.</p> - -<h4 class='c014'>II</h4> - -<p class='c015'>Once again, when I was a student in college, I was -on my way south by train. It was May. At one of -the stations between Byelogorod and Kharkoff, I think -it was, I got out of the train to walk up and down the -platform.</p> - -<p class='c011'>The evening shadows were already lying on the little -garden, the platform, and the distant fields. The -sunlight had faded from the station, but by the rosy -glow that shone on the highest puffs of steam from our -engine we could tell that the sun had not yet sunk beneath -the horizon.</p> - -<p class='c011'>As I strolled along the platform I noticed that most -<span class='pageno' id='Page_128'>128</span>of the passengers had gathered round one of the second-class -carriages as if there were some well-known person -inside. In that inquisitive crowd I found my travelling -companion, a bright young artillery officer, warm-hearted -and sympathetic as people are with whom one -strikes up a chance acquaintanceship for a few hours -on a journey.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“What are you looking at?” I asked.</p> - -<p class='c011'>He did not answer, but motioned me with his eyes -toward a female figure standing alongside the train. -She was a young girl of seventeen or eighteen, dressed -in Russian costume, bareheaded, with a kerchief -thrown carelessly over one shoulder. She was not a -passenger on the train, but probably the daughter or -the sister of the station superintendent. She was chatting -at a window with an elderly woman. Before I -could realise exactly what I was looking at, I was suddenly -overwhelmed by the same sensation that I had -experienced in the Armenian village.</p> - -<p class='c011'>The girl was extraordinarily beautiful, of this -neither I nor any one of those who were looking at her -could have the slightest doubt.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Were I to describe her lineaments in detail, as the -custom is, the only really beautiful point I could -ascribe to her would be her thick, curly, blond hair, -caught up with a black ribbon. Her other features -were either irregular or frankly commonplace. Whether -from coquetry or short-sightedness, she kept her eyes -half-closed; her nose was vaguely tip-tilted; her mouth -<span class='pageno' id='Page_129'>129</span>was small; her profile was weak and ill-defined; her -shoulders were too narrow for her years. Nevertheless, -the girl gave one the impression of being a great -beauty, and as I looked at her I grew convinced that -the Russian physiognomy does not demand severe regularity -of feature to be beautiful; on the contrary, it -seemed to me that, had this girl’s nose been straight -and classic as the Armenian’s was, her face would have -lost all its comeliness.</p> - -<p class='c011'>As she stood at the window chatting and shrinking -from the evening chill, the girl now glanced back at us, -now stuck her arms akimbo, now raised her hands to -catch up a stray lock of hair, and, as she laughed and -talked, the expression on her face varied between surprise -and mimic horror. I do not remember one -second when her features and body were at rest. The -very mystery and magic of her loveliness lay in those -indescribably graceful little motions of hers; in her -smile; in the play of her features; in her swift glances -at us; in the union of delicate grace, youth, freshness, -and purity that rang in her voice and laughter. The -charm of her was the frailty which we love in children, -birds, fawns, and slender saplings.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Hers was the beauty of the butterfly that accords -so well with waltzes, with flutterings about a garden, -with laughter, and the merriment that admits neither -thought, nor sadness, nor repose. It seemed that, -should a strong gust of wind blow along the platform, -or a shower of rain fall, this fragile figure must crumple -<span class='pageno' id='Page_130'>130</span>to nothing, and this wayward beauty dissolve like the -pollen of a flower.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Well, well, well!” murmured the officer, sighing as -we walked toward our compartment after the second -starting-bell had rung.</p> - -<p class='c011'>What he meant by that “Well, well, well,” I shall -not attempt to decide.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Perhaps he was sad at leaving the lovely girl and -the spring evening, and returning to the stuffy train, -or perhaps he was sorry, as I was, for her, and for himself, -and for me, and for all the passengers that were -languidly and unwillingly creeping toward their several -compartments. As we walked past a window at which -a pale, red-haired telegraph operator was sitting over -his instrument, the officer, seeing his pompadour curls, -and his faded, bony face, sighed again, and said:</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I’ll bet you that operator is in love with the little -beauty. To live among these lonely fields, under the -same roof with that lovely little creature, and not to -fall in love with her would be superhuman. And, oh, -my friend, what a misfortune, what a mockery, to be -a round-shouldered, threadbare, colourless, earnest, -sensible man and to fall in love with that beautiful, -foolish child, who is not worth a thought from any one! -Or, worse still, supposing this operator is in love with -her, and at the same time married to a woman as round-shouldered, -and threadbare, and colourless, and sensible -as himself! What misery!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Near our compartment the train conductor was -<span class='pageno' id='Page_131'>131</span>leaning against the platform railing, gazing in the direction -of the beautiful girl. His flabby, dissipated, -wrinkled face, haggard with the weariness of sleepless -nights and the motion of the train, wore an expression -of profoundest melancholy, as if in this girl he saw the -spectre of his youth, his happiness, his sober ways, his -wife, and his children. His heart was full of repentance, -and he felt with his whole being that this girl was not -for him and that, with his premature old age, his -awkwardness, and his bloated face, every day, human -happiness was as far beyond his reach as was the sky.</p> - -<p class='c011'>The third bell clanged, the whistle blew, and the -train moved slowly away. Past our windows flashed -the conductor, the station superintendent, the garden, -and at last the beautiful girl herself with her sweet, -childishly cunning smile.</p> - -<p class='c011'>By leaning out of the window and looking back, I -could see her walking up and down the platform in -front of the window where the telegraph operator was -sitting, watching the train and pinning up a stray -lock of hair. Then she ran into the garden. The -station was no longer kindled by the western light; -though the fields were level and bare, the sun’s rays -had faded from them, and the smoke from our engine -lay in black, rolling masses upon the green velvet of -the winter wheat. A sense of sadness pervaded the -spring air, the darkling sky, and the railway-carriage.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Our friend the conductor came into our compartment -and lit the lamp.</p> - -<div class='chapter'> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_133'>133</span> - <h2 class='c005'>LIGHT AND SHADOW</h2> -</div> - -<div> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_135'>135</span> - <h3 class='c009'>THE CHORUS GIRL</h3> -</div> - -<p class='drop-capa0_0_6 c010'>One day while she was still pretty and young and -her voice was sweet, Nikolai Kolpakoff, an admirer -of hers, was sitting in a room on the second floor -of her cottage. The afternoon was unbearably sultry -and hot. Kolpakoff, who had just dined and drunk a -whole bottle of vile port, felt thoroughly ill and out -of sorts. Both he and she were bored, and were waiting -for the heat to abate so that they might go for a -stroll.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Suddenly a bell rang in the hall. Kolpakoff, who -was sitting in his slippers without a coat, jumped up -and looked at Pasha with a question in his eyes.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“It is probably the postman or one of the girls,” -said the singer.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Kolpakoff was not afraid of the postman or of Pasha’s -girl friends, but nevertheless he snatched up his coat -and disappeared into the next room while Pasha ran to -open the door. What was her astonishment when she -saw on the threshold, not the postman nor a girl friend, -but an unknown woman, beautiful and young! Her -dress was distinguished and she was evidently a lady.</p> - -<p class='c011'>The stranger was pale and was breathing heavily -as if she were out of breath from climbing the stairs.</p> - -<p class='c011'><span class='pageno' id='Page_136'>136</span>“What can I do for you?” Pasha inquired.</p> - -<p class='c011'>The lady did not reply at once. She took a step forward, -looked slowly around the room, and sank into -a chair as if her legs had collapsed under her from -faintness or fatigue. Her pale lips moved silently, -trying to utter words which would not come.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Is my husband here?” she asked at last, raising -her large eyes with their red and swollen lids to Pasha’s -face.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“What husband do you mean?” Pasha whispered, -suddenly taking such violent fright that her hands and -feet grew as cold as ice. “What husband?” she repeated -beginning to tremble.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“My husband—Nikolai Kolpakoff.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“N-no, my lady. I don’t know your husband.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>A minute passed in silence. The stranger drew her -handkerchief several times across her pale lips, and -held her breath in an effort to subdue an inward trembling, -while Pasha stood before her as motionless as a -statue, gazing at her full of uncertainty and fear.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“So you say he is not here?” asked the lady. Her -voice was firm now and a strange smile had twisted -her lips.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I—I—don’t know whom you mean!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“You are a revolting, filthy, vile creature!” muttered -the stranger looking at Pasha with hatred and -disgust. “Yes, yes, you are revolting. I am glad -indeed that an opportunity has come at last for me -to tell you this!”</p> - -<p class='c011'><span class='pageno' id='Page_137'>137</span>Pasha felt that she was producing the effect of -something indecent and foul on this lady in black, with -the angry eyes and the long, slender fingers, and she -was ashamed of her fat, red cheeks, the pock-mark on -her nose, and the lock of hair on her forehead that -would never stay up. She thought that if she were -thin and her face were not powdered, and she had not -that curl on her forehead, she would not feel so afraid -and ashamed standing there before this mysterious, -unknown lady.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Where is my husband?” the lady went on. “However -it makes no difference to me whether he is here or -not, I only want you to know that he has been caught -embezzling funds intrusted to him, and that the police -are looking for him. He is going to be arrested. Now -see what you have done!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>The lady rose and began to walk up and down in -violent agitation. Pasha stared at her; fear rendered -her uncomprehending.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“He will be found to-day and arrested,” the lady -repeated with a sob full of bitterness and rage. “I -know who has brought this horror upon him! Disgusting, -abominable woman! Horrible, bought creature! -(Here the lady’s lips curled and her nose wrinkled -with aversion.) I am impotent. Listen to me, you -low woman. I am impotent and you are stronger -than I, but there is One who will avenge me and my -children. God’s eyes see all things. He is just. He -will call you to account for every tear I have shed, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_138'>138</span>every sleepless night I have passed. The time will -come when you will remember me!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Once more silence fell. The lady walked to and fro -wringing her hands. Pasha continued to watch her -dully, uncomprehendingly, dazed with doubt, waiting -for her to do something terrible.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I don’t know what you mean, my lady!” she suddenly -cried, and burst into tears.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“That’s a lie!” screamed the lady, her eyes flashing -with anger. “I know all about it! I have known -about you for a long time. I know that he has been -coming here every day for the last month.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Yes—and what if he has? Is it my fault? I have -a great many visitors, but I don’t force any one to -come. They are free to do as they please.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I tell you he is accused of embezzlement! He has -taken money that didn’t belong to him, and for the -sake of a woman like you—for your sake, he has -brought himself to commit a crime! Listen to me,” -the lady said sternly, halting before Pasha. “You -are an unprincipled woman, I know. You exist to -bring misfortune to men, that is the object of your -life, but I cannot believe that you have fallen so low -as not to have one spark of humanity left in your -breast. He has a wife, he has children, oh, remember -that! There is one means of saving us from poverty -and shame; if I can find nine hundred roubles to-day -he will be left in peace. Only nine hundred -roubles!”</p> - -<p class='c011'><span class='pageno' id='Page_139'>139</span>“What nine hundred roubles?” asked Pasha feebly. -“I—I don’t know—I didn’t take——”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I am not asking you to give me nine hundred -roubles, you have no money, and I don’t want anything -that belongs to you. It is something else that -I ask. Men generally give presents of jewellery to -women like you. All I ask is that you should give me -back the things that my husband has given you.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“My lady, he has never given me anything!” wailed -Pasha beginning to understand.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Then where is the money he has wasted? He has -squandered in some way his own fortune, and mine, -and the fortunes of others. Where has the money -gone? Listen, I implore you! I was excited just now -and said some unpleasant things, but I ask you to -forgive me! I know you must hate me, but if pity -exists for you, oh, put yourself in my place! I implore -you to give me the jewellery!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“H’m—” said Pasha shrugging her shoulders. “I -should do it with pleasure, only I swear before God -he never gave me a thing. He didn’t, indeed. But, -no, you are right,” the singer suddenly stammered in -confusion. “He did give me two little things. Wait -a minute, I’ll fetch them for you if you want them.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Pasha pulled out one of the drawers of her bureau, -and took from it a bracelet of hollow gold, and a narrow -ring set with a ruby.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Here they are!” she said, handing them to her -visitor.</p> - -<p class='c011'><span class='pageno' id='Page_140'>140</span>The lady grew angry and a spasm passed over her -features. She felt that she was being insulted.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“What is this you are giving me?” she cried. “I’m -not asking for alms, but for the things that do not -belong to you, for the things that you have extracted -from my weak and unhappy husband by your position. -When I saw you on the wharf with him on -Thursday you were wearing costly brooches and bracelets. -Do you think you can play the innocent baby -with me? I ask you for the last time: will you give -me those presents or not?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“You are strange, I declare,” Pasha exclaimed, beginning -to take offence. “I swear to you that I have -never had a thing from your Nikolai, except this -bracelet and ring. He has never given me anything, -but these and some little cakes.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Little cakes!” the stranger laughed suddenly. -“His children are starving at home, and he brings -you little cakes! So you won’t give up the things?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Receiving no answer, the lady sat down, her eyes -grew fixed, and she seemed to be debating something.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“What shall I do?” she murmured. “If I can’t get -nine hundred roubles he will be ruined as well as the -children and myself. Shall I kill this creature, or shall -I go down on my knees to her?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>The lady pressed her handkerchief to her eyes and -burst into tears.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Oh, I beseech you!” she sobbed. “It is you who -have disgraced and ruined my husband; now save him! -<span class='pageno' id='Page_141'>141</span>You can have no pity for him, I know; but the children, -remember the children! What have they done -to deserve this?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Pasha imagined his little children standing on the -street corner weeping with hunger, and she, too, burst -into tears.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“What can I do, my lady?” she cried. “You say -I am a wicked creature who has ruined your husband, -but I swear to you before God I have never had the -least benefit from him! Mota is the only girl in our -chorus who has a rich friend, the rest of us all live -on bread and water. Your husband is an educated, -pleasant gentleman, that’s why I received him. We -can’t pick and choose.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I want the jewellery; give me the jewellery! I -am weeping, I am humiliating myself; see, I shall fall -on my knees before you!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Pasha screamed with terror and waved her arms. -She felt that this pale, beautiful lady, who spoke the -same refined language that people did in plays, might -really fall on her knees before her, and for the very -reason that she was so proud and high-bred, she would -exalt herself by doing this, and degrade the little -singer.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Yes, yes, I’ll give you the jewellery!” Pasha cried -hastily, wiping her eyes. “Take it, but it did not -come from your husband! I got it from other visitors. -But take it, if you want it!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Pasha pulled out an upper drawer of the bureau, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_142'>142</span>and took from it a diamond brooch, a string of corals, -two or three rings, and a bracelet. These she handed -to the lady.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Here is the jewellery, but I tell you again your husband -never gave me a thing. Take it, and may you -be the richer for having it!” Pasha went on, offended -by the lady’s threat that she would go down on her -knees. “You are a lady and his lawful wife—keep -him at home then! The idea of it! As if I had -asked him to come here! He came because he wanted -to!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>The lady looked through her tears at the jewellery -that Pasha had handed her and said:</p> - -<p class='c011'>“This isn’t all. There is scarcely five hundred -roubles’ worth here.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Pasha violently snatched a gold watch, a cigarette-case, -and a set of studs out of the drawer and flung up -her arms, exclaiming:</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Now I am cleaned out! Look for yourself!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Her visitor sighed. With trembling hands she -wrapped the trinkets in her handkerchief, and went -out without a word, without even a nod.</p> - -<p class='c011'>The door of the adjoining room opened and Kolpakoff -came out. His face was pale and his head was -shaking nervously, as if he had just swallowed a very -bitter draught. His eyes were full of tears.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I’d like to know what you ever gave me!” Pasha -attacked him vehemently. “When did you ever give -me the smallest present?”</p> - -<p class='c011'><span class='pageno' id='Page_143'>143</span>“Presents—they are a detail, presents!” Kolpakoff -cried, his head still shaking. “Oh, my God, she wept -before you, she abased herself!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I ask you again: what have you ever given me?” -screamed Pasha.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“My God, she—a respectable, a proud woman, was -actually ready to fall on her knees before—before -this—wench! And I have brought her to this! I -allowed it!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>He seized his head in his hands.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“No,” he groaned out, “I shall never forgive myself -for this—never! Get away from me, wretch!” -he cried, backing away from Pasha with horror, and -keeping her off with outstretched, trembling hands. -“She was ready to go down on her knees, and before -whom?—Before you! Oh, my God!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>He threw on his coat and, pushing Pasha contemptuously -aside, strode to the door and went out.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Pasha flung herself down on the sofa and burst into -loud wails. She already regretted the things she had -given away so impulsively, and her feelings were hurt. -She remembered that a merchant had beaten her three -years ago for nothing, yes, absolutely for nothing, and -at that thought she wept louder than ever.</p> - -<div> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_144'>144</span> - <h3 class='c009'>THE FATHER OF A FAMILY</h3> -</div> - -<p class='drop-capa0_0_6 c010'>This is what generally follows a grand loss at cards -or a drinking-bout, when his indigestion begins to -make itself felt. Stepan Jilin wakes up in an uncommonly -gloomy frame of mind. He looks sour, ruffled, -and peevish, and his grey face wears an expression -partly discontented, partly offended, and partly sneering. -He dresses deliberately, slowly drinks his vichy -water, and begins roaming about the house.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I wish to goodness I knew what br-rute goes through -here leaving all the doors open!” he growls angrily, -wrapping his dressing-gown about him and noisily -clearing his throat. “Take this paper away! What is -it lying here for? Though we keep twenty servants, -this house is more untidy than a hovel! Who rang -the bell? Who’s there?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Aunty Anfisa, who nursed our Fedia,” answers his -wife.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Yes, loafing about, eating the bread of idleness!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I don’t understand you, Stepan; you invited her -here yourself and now you are abusing her!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I’m not abusing her. I’m talking! And you ought -to find something to do, too, good woman, instead of -sitting there with your hands folded, picking quarrels -<span class='pageno' id='Page_145'>145</span>with your husband! I don’t understand a woman like -you, upon my word I don’t! How can you let day -after day go by without working? Here’s your husband -toiling and moiling like an ox, like a beast of burden, -and there you are, his wife, his life’s companion, sitting -about like a doll without ever turning your hand -to a thing, so bored that you must seize every opportunity -of quarrelling with him. It’s high time for you -to drop those schoolgirlish airs, madam! You’re not -a child nor a young miss any longer. You’re a woman, -a mother! You turn away, eh? Aha! You don’t -like disagreeable truths, do you?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“It’s odd you only speak disagreeable truths when -you have indigestion!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“That’s right, let’s have a scene; go ahead!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Did you go to town yesterday or did you play -cards somewhere?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Well, and what if I did? Whose business is it? -Am I accountable to any one? Don’t I lose my own -money? All that I spend and all that is spent in this -house is mine, do you hear that? Mine!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>And so he persists in the same strain. But Jilin is -never so crotchety, so stern, so bristling with virtue -and justice, as he is when sitting at dinner with his -household gathered about him. It generally begins -with the soup. Having swallowed his first spoonful, -Jilin suddenly scowls and stops eating.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“What the devil—” he mutters. “So I’ll have to -go to the café for lunch——”</p> - -<p class='c011'><span class='pageno' id='Page_146'>146</span>“What is it?” asks his anxious wife. “Isn’t the -soup good?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I can’t conceive the swinish tastes a person must -have to swallow this mess! It is too salty, it smells of -rags, it is flavoured with bugs and not onions! Anfisa -Pavlovna!” he cries to his guest. “It is shocking! I -give them oceans of money every day to buy food -with, I deny myself everything, and this is what they -give me to eat! No doubt they would like me to retire -from business into the kitchen and do the cooking -myself!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“The soup is good to-day,” the governess timidly -ventures.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Is it? Do you find it so?” inquires Jilin scowling -angrily at her. “Every one to his taste, but I must -confess that yours and mine differ widely, Varvara -Vasilievna. You, for instance, admire the behavior -of that child there (Jilin points a tragic forefinger at -his son). You are in ecstasies over him, but I—I am -shocked! Yes, I am!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Fedia, a boy of seven with a delicate, pale face, -stops eating and lowers his eyes. His cheeks grow -paler than ever.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Yes, you are in ecstasies, and I am shocked. I -don’t know which of us is right, but I venture to think -that I, as his father, know my own son better than -you do. Look at the way he is sitting! Is that how -well-behaved children should hold themselves? Sit -up!”</p> - -<p class='c011'><span class='pageno' id='Page_147'>147</span>Fedia raises his chin and sticks out his neck and -thinks he is sitting up straighter. His eyes are filling -with tears.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Eat your dinner! Hold your spoon properly! -Don’t dare to snuffle! Look me in the face!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Fedia tries to look at him, but his lips are quivering -and the tears are trickling down his cheeks.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Aha, so you’re crying? You’re naughty and that -makes you cry, eh? Leave the table and go and -stand in the corner, puppy!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“But—do let him finish his dinner first!” his wife -intercedes for the boy.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“No—no dinner! Such a—such a naughty brat has -no right to eat dinner!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Fedia makes a wry face, slides down from his chair, -and takes his stand in a corner.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“That’s the way to treat him,” his father continues. -“If no one else will take charge of his education -I must do it myself. I won’t have you being -naughty and crying at dinner, sir! Spoiled brat! You -ought to work, do you hear me? Your father works, -and you must work, too! No one may sponge on -others. Be a man, a M-A-N!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“For Heaven’s sake, hush!” his wife beseeches him -in French. “At least don’t bite our heads off in public! -The old lady is listening to every word, and the whole -town will know of this, thanks to her.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I’m not afraid of the public!” retorts Jilin in -Russian. “Anfisa Pavlovna can see for herself that -<span class='pageno' id='Page_148'>148</span>I’m speaking the truth. What, do you think I ought -to be satisfied with that youngster there? Do you -know how much he costs me? Do you know, you -worthless boy, how much you cost me? Or do you -think I can create money and that it falls into my lap -of its own accord? Stop bawling! Shut up! Do -you hear me or not? Do you want me to thrash you, -little wretch?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Fedia breaks into piercing wails and begins sobbing.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Oh, this is absolutely unbearable!” exclaims his -mother, throwing down her napkin and getting up -from the table. “He never lets us have our dinner in -peace. That’s where that bread of yours sticks!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>She points to her throat and, putting her handkerchief -to her eyes, leaves the dining-room.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Her feelings are hurt,” mutters Jilin, forcing a -smile. “She has been too gently handled, Anfisa -Pavlovna, and that’s why she doesn’t like to hear the -truth. We are to blame!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Several minutes elapse in silence. Jilin catches sight -of the dinner-plates and notices that the soup has not -been touched. He sighs deeply and glares at the -flushed and agitated face of the governess.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Why don’t you eat your dinner, Varvara Vasilievna?” -he demands. “You’re offended, too, are -you? I see, you don’t like the truth either. Forgive -me, but it is my nature never to be hypocritical. I -always hit straight from the shoulder. (A sigh.) I -see, though, that my company is distasteful to you. -<span class='pageno' id='Page_149'>149</span>No one can speak or eat in my presence. You ought -to have told me that sooner so that I could have left -you to yourselves. I am going now.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Jilin rises and walks with dignity toward the door. -He stops as he passes the weeping Fedia.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“After what has happened just now you are fr-ee!” -he says to him with a lofty toss of the head. “I shall -no longer concern myself with your education. I -wash my hands of it. Forgive me if, out of sincere -fatherly solicitude for your welfare, I interfered with -you and your preceptresses. At the same time, I -renounce forever all responsibility for your future.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Fedia wails and sobs more loudly than ever. Jilin -turns toward the door with a stately air and walks off -into his bedroom.</p> - -<p class='c011'>After his noonday nap Jilin is tormented by the -pangs of conscience. He is ashamed of his behaviour -to his wife, his son, and Anfisa Pavlovna, and feels -extremely uncomfortable on remembering what happened -at dinner. But his egotism is too strong for -him and he is not man enough to be truthful, so he -continues to grumble and sulk.</p> - -<p class='c011'>When he wakes up the following morning he feels -in the gayest of moods and whistles merrily at his -ablutions. On entering the dining-room for breakfast -he finds Fedia. The boy rises at the sight of his father -and gazes at him with troubled eyes.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Well, how goes it, young man?” Jilin asks cheerfully -as he sits down to table. “What’s the news, old -<span class='pageno' id='Page_150'>150</span>fellow? Are you all right, eh? Come here, you little -roly-poly, and give papa a kiss.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Fedia approaches his father with a pale, serious face -and brushes his cheek with trembling lips. Then he -silently retreats and resumes his place at the table.</p> - -<div> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_151'>151</span> - <h3 class='c009'>THE ORATOR</h3> -</div> - -<p class='drop-capa0_0_6 c010'>One Sunday morning they were burying the Collegiate -Assessor Kiril Ivanovitch, who had died -from the two ailments so common amongst us: drink and -a scolding wife. While the funeral procession was crawling -from the church to the cemetery, a certain Poplavski, -a colleague of the defunct civil servant, jumped -into a cab, and galloped off to fetch his friend Gregory -Zapoikin, a young but already popular man. As many -of my readers know, Zapoikin was the possessor of a -remarkable talent for making impromptu orations at -weddings, jubilee celebrations, and funerals. Whether -he was half-asleep, or fasting, or dead drunk, or in -a fever, he was always ready to make a speech. His -words always flowed from his lips as smoothly and -evenly and abundantly as water out of a rain-pipe, and -there were more heartrending expressions in his oratorical -vocabulary than there are black beetles in an -inn. His speeches were always eloquent and long, so -long that sometimes, especially at the weddings of -merchants, the aid of the police had to be summoned -to put a stop to them.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I have come to carry you off with me, old chap,” -began Poplavski. “Put on your things this minute -and come along. One of our colleagues has kicked -<span class='pageno' id='Page_152'>152</span>the bucket and we are about to despatch him into -the next world. We must have some sort of folderol -to see him off with, you know! All our hopes are -centred on you! If one of our little fellows had died, -we shouldn’t have troubled you; but, after all, this -one was an Assessor, a pillar of the state, one might -say. It wouldn’t do to bury a big fish like him without -some kind of an oration!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Ah, the Assessor is it?” yawned Zapoikin. “What, -that old soak?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Yes, that old soak! There will be pancakes and -caviar, you know, and you will get your cab-fare paid. -Come along, old man! Spout some of your Ciceronian -hyperboles over his grave and you’ll see the thanks -you’ll get from us all!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Zapoikin consented to go with alacrity. He ruffled -his hair, veiled his features in gloom, and stepped out -with Poplavski into the street.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I know that Assessor of yours!” he said, as he took -his seat in the cab. “He was a rare brute of a rascal, -God bless his soul!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Come, let dead men alone, Grisha!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Oh, of course, <i><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">de mortuis nil nisi bonum</span></i>, but that -doesn’t make him any less a rascal!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>The friends overtook the funeral cortège. It was -travelling so slowly that before it reached its destination -they had time to dash into a café three times to -drink a drop to the peace of the dead man’s soul.</p> - -<p class='c011'>At the cemetery the litany had already been sung. -<span class='pageno' id='Page_153'>153</span>The mother-in-law, the wife, and the sister-in-law of -the departed were weeping in torrents. The wife even -shrieked as the coffin was lowered into the grave: -“Oh, let me go with him!” But she did not follow -her husband, probably because she remembered his -pension in time. Zapoikin waited until every sound -had ceased and then stepped forward, embraced the -whole crowd at a glance and began:</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Can we believe our eyes and our ears? Is this -not a terrible dream? What is this grave here? What -are these tear-stained faces, these sobs, these groans? -Alas, they are not a dream! He whom, but a short -time since we saw before us so valiant and brave, -endowed still with all the freshness of youth; he whom, -before our eyes, like the untiring bee, we saw carrying -his burden of honey to the universal hive of the -sovereign good, he whom—this man has now become -dust, a mirage! Pitiless death has laid his bony hand -upon him at a time when, notwithstanding the weight -of his years, he was still in the very bloom of his powers, -and radiant with hope. We have many a good servant -of the state here, but Prokofi Osipitch stood alone -among them all. He was devoted body and soul to -the accomplishment of his honourable duties; he -spared not his strength, and it may well be said of -him that he was always without fear and without -reproach. Ah, how he despised those who desired to -buy his soul at the expense of the public good; those -who, with the seductive blessings of earth, would fain -<span class='pageno' id='Page_154'>154</span>have enticed him into a betrayal of the trusts confided -to him! Yea, before our very eyes we could see Prokofi -Osipitch giving his mite, his all, to comrades poorer -than himself, and you have heard for yourselves, but -a few moments since, the cries of the widows and -orphans who lived by the kindness of his great heart. -Engrossed in the duties of his post and in deeds of -charity, he knew no joy in this world. Yea, he even -forswore the happiness of family life. You know that -he remained a bachelor to the end of his days. -Who will take the place of this comrade of ours? I -can see at this moment his gentle, clean-shaven face -turned toward us with a benevolent smile. I seem to -hear the soft, friendly tones of his voice. Eternal -repose be to your soul, Prokofi Osipitch! Rest in peace, -noble, honourable toiler of ours!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Zapoikin continued his oration, but his audience -had begun to whisper among themselves. The speech -pleased every one and called forth numerous tears, -but it seemed a little strange to many who heard it. -In the first place, they could not understand why the -speaker had referred to the dead man as “Prokofi Osipitch” -when his real name had been Kiril Ivanovitch. -In the second place, they all knew that the departed -and his wife had fought like cat and dog, and that -therefore he could hardly have been called a bachelor. -In the third place, he had worn a thick red beard, -and had never shaved in his life, therefore they could -not make out why their Demosthenes had spoken -<span class='pageno' id='Page_155'>155</span>of him as being clean-shaven. They wondered and -looked at one another and shrugged their shoulders.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Prokofi Osipitch!” the speaker continued with a -rapt look at the grave. “Prokofi Osipitch! You were -ugly of face, it is true, yea, you were almost uncouth; -you were gloomy and stern, but well we knew that -beneath that deceitful exterior of yours there beat a -warm and affectionate heart!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>The crowd was now beginning to notice something -queer about the orator himself. He was glaring intently -at some object near him and was shifting his -position uneasily. At last he suddenly stopped, his -jaw dropped with amazement, and he turned to Poplavski.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Look here, that man’s alive!” he cried, his eyes -starting out of his head with horror.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Who’s alive?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Why, Prokofi Osipitch! There he is now, standing -by that monument!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Of course he is! It was Kiril Ivanovitch that died, -not he!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“But you said yourself it was the Assessor!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I know! And wasn’t Kiril Ivanovitch the Assessor? -Oh, you moon-calf! You have got them mixed up! -Of course Prokofi Osipitch used to be the Assessor, but -that was two years ago. He has been chief of a table -in chancery now for two years!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“It’s simply the devil to keep up with all you -chaps!”</p> - -<p class='c011'><span class='pageno' id='Page_156'>156</span>“What are you stopping for? Go on! This is -getting too awkward!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Zapoikin turned toward the grave, and continued -his oration with all his former eloquence. Yes, and -there near the monument stood Prokofi Osipitch, an -old civil servant with a clean-shaven face, frowning -and glaring furiously at the speaker.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“How in the world did you manage to do that?” -laughed the officials as they and Zapoikin drove home -from the cemetery together. “Ha! Ha! Ha! A -funeral oration for a live man!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“You made a great mistake, young man!” growled -Prokofi Osipitch. “Your speech may have been appropriate -enough for a dead man, but for a live one it -was—it was simply a joke. Allow me to ask you, -what was it you said? ‘Without fear and without -reproach; he never took a bribe!’ Why, you <i>couldn’t</i> -say a thing like that about a live man unless you were -joking! And no one asked you to dwell upon my -personal appearance, young gentleman! ‘Ugly and -uncouth,’ eh! That may be quite true, but why did -you drag it in before every one in the city? I call it -an insult!”</p> - -<div> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_157'>157</span> - <h3 class='c009'>IONITCH</h3> -</div> - -<p class='drop-capa0_0_6 c010'>If newcomers to the little provincial city of S. complained -that life there was monotonous and dull, -its inhabitants would answer that, on the contrary, -S. was a very amusing place, indeed, that it had a -library and a club, that balls were given there, and -finally, that very pleasant families lived there with -whom one might become acquainted. And they -always pointed to the Turkins as the most accomplished -and most enlightened family of all.</p> - -<p class='c011'>These Turkins lived in a house of their own, on -Main Street, next door to the governor. Ivan Turkin, -the father, was a stout, handsome, dark man with side-whiskers. -He often organized amateur theatricals for -charity, playing the parts of the old generals in them -and coughing most amusingly. He knew a lot of -funny stories, riddles, and proverbs, and loved to joke -and pun with, all the while, such a quaint expression -on his face that no one ever knew whether he was -serious or jesting. His wife Vera was a thin, rather -pretty woman who wore glasses and wrote stories and -novels which she liked to read aloud to her guests. -Katherine, the daughter, played the piano. In short, -each member of the family had his or her special -<span class='pageno' id='Page_158'>158</span>talent. The Turkins always welcomed their guests -cordially and showed off their accomplishments to -them with cheerful and genial simplicity. The interior -of their large stone house was spacious, and, in -summer, delightfully cool. Half of its windows looked -out upon a shady old garden where, on spring evenings, -the nightingales sang. Whenever there were -guests in the house a mighty chopping would always -begin in the kitchen, and a smell of fried onions -would pervade the courtyard. These signs always -foretold a sumptuous and appetising supper.</p> - -<p class='c011'>So it came to pass that when Dimitri Ionitch Startseff -received his appointment as government doctor, and -went to live in Dialij, six miles from S., he too, as an -intelligent man, was told that he must not fail to make -the Turkins’ acquaintance. Turkin was presented to -him on the street one winter’s day; they talked of -the weather and the theatre and the cholera, and an -invitation from Turkin followed. Next spring, on -Ascension Day, after he had received his patients, -Startseff went into town for a little holiday, and to -make some purchases. He strolled along at a leisurely -pace (he had no horse of his own yet), and as he walked -he sang to himself:</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b c012'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>“Before I had drunk those tears from Life’s cup——”</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c011'>After dining in town he sauntered through the public -gardens, and the memory of Turkin’s invitation somehow -came into his mind. He decided to go to their -<span class='pageno' id='Page_159'>159</span>house and see for himself what sort of people they -were.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Be welcome, if you please!” cried Turkin, meeting -him on the front steps. “I am delighted, delighted -to see such a welcome guest! Come, let me introduce -you to the missus. I told him, Vera,” he continued, -presenting the doctor to his wife, “I told him that -no law of the Medes and Persians allows him to shut -himself up in his hospital as he does. He ought to -give society the benefit of his leisure hours, oughtn’t -he, dearest?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Sit down here,” said Madame Turkin, beckoning -him to a seat at her side. “You may flirt with me, if -you like. My husband is jealous, a regular Othello, -but we’ll try to behave so that he shan’t notice anything.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Oh, you little wretch, you!” murmured Turkin, -tenderly kissing her forehead. “You have come at a -very opportune moment,” he went on, addressing his -guest. “My missus has just written a splendiferous -novel and is going to read it aloud to-day.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Jean,” said Madame Turkin to her husband. -“<span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Dites que l’on nous donne du thé.</span>”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Startseff next made the acquaintance of Miss -Katherine, an eighteen-year old girl who much resembled -her mother. Like her, she was pretty and -slender; her expression was childlike still, and her -figure delicate and supple, but her full, girlish chest -spoke of spring and of the loveliness of spring. They -<span class='pageno' id='Page_160'>160</span>drank tea with jam, honey, and sweetmeats and ate -delicious cakes that melted in the mouth. When -evening came other guests began to arrive, and Turkin -turned his laughing eyes on each one in turn exclaiming:</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Be welcome, if you please!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>When all had assembled, they took their seats in -the drawing-room, and Madame Turkin read her novel -aloud. The story began with the words: “The frost -was tightening its grasp.” The windows were open -wide, and sounds of chopping could be heard in the -kitchen, while the smell of fried onions came floating -through the air. Every one felt very peaceful sitting -there in those deep, soft armchairs, while the friendly -lamplight played tenderly among the shadows of -the drawing-room. On that evening of summer, with -the sound of voices and laughter floating up from the -street, and the scent of lilacs blowing in through the -open windows, it was hard to imagine the frost tightening -its grasp, and the setting sun illuminating with -its bleak rays a snowy plain and a solitary wayfarer -journeying across it. Madame Turkin read of how a -beautiful princess had built a school, and hospital, and -library in the village where she lived, and had fallen in -love with a strolling artist. She read of things that had -never happened in this world, and yet it was delightfully -comfortable to sit there and listen to her, while -such pleasant and peaceful dreams floated through -one’s fancy that one wished never to move again.</p> - -<p class='c011'><span class='pageno' id='Page_161'>161</span>“Not baddish!” said Turkin softly. And one of -the guests, who had allowed his thoughts to roam far, -far afield, said almost inaudibly:</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Yes—it is indeed!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>One hour passed, two hours passed. The town band -began playing in the public gardens, and a chorus of -singers struck up “The Little Torch.” After Madame -Turkin had folded her manuscript, every one sat silent -for five minutes, listening to the old folk-song telling of -things that happen in life and not in story-books.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Do you have your stories published in the magazines?” -asked Startseff.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“No,” she answered. “I have never had anything -published. I put all my manuscripts away in a closet. -Why should I publish them?” she added by way of -explanation. “We don’t need the money.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>And for some reason every one sighed.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“And now, Kitty, play us something,” said Turkin -to his daughter.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Some one raised the top of the piano, and opened -the music which was already lying at hand. Katherine -struck the keys with both hands. Then she struck -them again with all her might, and then again and again. -Her chest and shoulders quivered, and she obstinately -hammered the same place, so that it seemed as if she -were determined not to stop playing until she had -beaten the keyboard into the piano. The drawing-room -was filled with thunder; the floor, the ceiling, -the furniture, everything rumbled. Katherine played -<span class='pageno' id='Page_162'>162</span>a long, monotonous piece, interesting only for its intricacy, -and as Startseff listened, he imagined he saw -endless rocks rolling down a high mountainside. He -wanted them to stop rolling as quickly as possible, and -at the same time Katherine pleased him immensely, -she looked so energetic and strong, all rosy from her -exertions, with a lock of hair hanging down over her -forehead. After his winter spent among sick people -and peasants in Dialij, it was a new and agreeable sensation -to be sitting in a drawing-room watching that -graceful, pure young girl and listening to those noisy, -monotonous but cultured sounds.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Well, Kitty, you played better than ever to-day!” -exclaimed Turkin, with tears in his eyes when his -daughter had finished and risen from the piano-stool. -“Last the best, you know!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>The guests all surrounded her exclaiming, congratulating, -and declaring that they had not heard such -music for ages. Kitty listened in silence, smiling a -little, and triumph was written all over her face.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Wonderful! Beautiful!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Beautiful!” exclaimed Startseff, abandoning himself -to the general enthusiasm. “Where did you study -music? At the conservatory?” he asked Katherine.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“No, I haven’t been to the conservatory, but I am -going there very soon. So far I have only had lessons -here from Madame Zakivska.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Did you go to the high-school?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Oh, dear no!” the mother answered for her daughter. -<span class='pageno' id='Page_163'>163</span>“We had teachers come to the house for her. She -might have come under bad influences at school, you -know. While a girl is growing up she should be under -her mother’s influence only.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I’m going to the conservatory all the same!” declared -Katherine.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“No, Kitty loves her mamma too much for that; -Kitty would not grieve her mamma and papa!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Yes, I am going!” Katherine insisted, playfully -and wilfully stamping her little foot.</p> - -<p class='c011'>At supper it was Turkin who showed off his accomplishments. -With laughing eyes, but with a serious -face he told funny stories, and made jokes, and asked -ridiculous riddles which he answered himself. He -spoke a language all his own, full of laboured, acrobatic -feats of wit, in the shape of such words as “splendiferous,” -“not baddish,” “I thank you blindly,” which -had clearly long since become a habit with him.</p> - -<p class='c011'>But this was not the end of the entertainment. -When the well-fed, well-satisfied guests had trooped -into the front hall to sort out their hats and canes they -found Pava the footman, a shaven-headed boy of -fourteen, bustling about among them.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Come now, Pava! Do your act!” cried Turkin -to the lad.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Pava struck an attitude, raised one hand, and said -in a tragic voice:</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Die, unhappy woman!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>At which every one laughed.</p> - -<p class='c011'><span class='pageno' id='Page_164'>164</span>“Quite amusing!” thought Startseff, as he stepped -out into the street.</p> - -<p class='c011'>He went to a restaurant and had a glass of beer, and -then started off on foot for his home in Dialij. As he -walked he sang to himself:</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b c012'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>“Your voice so languorous and soft——”</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c011'>He felt no trace of fatigue after his six-mile walk, -and as he went to bed he thought that, on the contrary, -he would gladly have walked another fifteen -miles.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Not baddish!” he remembered as he fell asleep, -and laughed aloud at the recollection.</p> - -<h4 class='c014'>II</h4> - -<p class='c015'>After that Startseff was always meaning to go to -the Turkins’ again, but he was kept very busy in the -hospital, and for the life of him could not win an hour’s -leisure for himself. More than a year of solitude and -toil thus went by, until one day a letter in a blue envelope -was brought to him from the city.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Madame Turkin had long been a sufferer from headaches, -but since Kitty had begun to frighten her every -day by threatening to go away to the conservatory -her attacks had become more frequent. All the doctors -in the city had treated her and now, at last, it was the -country doctor’s turn. Madame Turkin wrote him a -<span class='pageno' id='Page_165'>165</span>moving appeal in which she implored him to come, -and relieve her sufferings. Startseff went, and after -that he began to visit the Turkins often, very often. -The fact was, he did help Madame Turkin a little, and -she hastened to tell all her guests what a wonderful -and unusual physician he was, but it was not Madame -Turkin’s headaches that took Startseff to the house.</p> - -<p class='c011'>One evening, on a holiday, when Katherine had -finished her long, wearisome exercises on the piano, -they all went into the dining-room and had sat there -a long time drinking tea while Turkin told some -of those funny stories of his. Suddenly a bell rang. -Some one had to go to the front door to meet a newly -come guest, and Startseff took advantage of the momentary -confusion to whisper into Katherine’s ear -with intense agitation:</p> - -<p class='c011'>“For heaven’s sake come into the garden with me, -I beseech you! Don’t torment me!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>She shrugged her shoulders as if in doubt as to -what he wanted of her, but rose, nevertheless, and -went out with him.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“You play for three or four hours a day on the -piano, and then go and sit with your mother, and I -never have the slightest chance to talk to you. Give -me just one quarter of an hour, I implore you!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Autumn was approaching, and the old garden, its -paths strewn with fallen leaves, was quiet and melancholy. -The early twilight was falling.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I have not seen you for one whole week,” Startseff -<span class='pageno' id='Page_166'>166</span>went on. “If you only knew what agony that has -been for me! Let us sit down. Listen to me!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>The favourite haunt of both was a bench under an -old spreading maple-tree. On this they took their seats.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“What is it you want?” asked Katherine in a hard, -practical voice.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I have not seen you for one whole week. I have -not heard you speak for such a long time! I long -madly for the sound of your voice. I hunger for it! -Speak to me now!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>He was carried away by her freshness and the candid -expression of her eyes and cheeks. He even saw -in the fit of her dress something extraordinarily touching -and sweet in its simplicity and artless grace. And -at the same time, with all her innocence, she seemed -to him wonderfully clever and precocious for her years. -He could talk to her of literature or art or anything -he pleased and could pour out his complaints to her -about the life he led and the people he met, even if -she did sometimes laugh for no reason when he was -talking seriously, or jump up and run into the house. -Like all the young ladies in S., she read a great deal. -Most people there read very little, and, indeed, it was -said in the library that if it were not for the girls, and -the young Jews, the building might as well be closed. -This reading of Katherine’s was an endless source of -pleasure to Startseff. Each time he met her he would -ask her with emotion what she had been reading, and -would listen enchanted as she told him.</p> - -<p class='c011'><span class='pageno' id='Page_167'>167</span>“What have you read this week since we last saw -one another?” he now asked. “Tell me, I beg you.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I have been reading Pisemski.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“What have you been reading of Pisemski’s?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“‘The Thousand Souls,’” answered Kitty. “What -a funny name Pisemski had: Alexei Theofilaktitch!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Where are you going?” cried Startseff in terror as -she suddenly jumped up and started toward the house. -“I absolutely must speak to you. I want to tell you -something! Stay with me, if only for five minutes, I -implore you!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>She stopped as if she meant to answer him, and then -awkwardly slipped a note into his hand and ran away -into the house where she took her seat at the piano -once more.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Meet me in the cemetery at Demetti’s grave to-night -at eleven,” Startseff read.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“How absurd!” he thought, when he had recovered -himself a little. “Why in the cemetery? What is -the sense of that?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>The answer was clear: Kitty was fooling. Who -would think seriously of making a tryst at night in a -cemetery far outside the city when it would have been -so easy to meet in the street or in the public gardens? -Was it becoming for him, a government doctor and a -serious-minded person, to sigh and receive notes and -wander about a cemetery, and do silly things that even -schoolboys made fun of? How would this little adventure -end? What would his friends say if they -<span class='pageno' id='Page_168'>168</span>knew of it? These were Startseff’s reflections, as he -wandered about among the tables at the club that -evening, but at half past ten he suddenly changed his -mind and drove to the cemetery.</p> - -<p class='c011'>He had his own carriage and pair now, and a coachman -named Panteleimon in a long velvet coat. The -moon was shining. The night was still and mellow, -but with an autumnal softness. The dogs barked at -him as he drove through the suburbs and out through -the city gates. Startseff stopped his carriage in an -alley on the edge of the town and continued his way -to the cemetery on foot.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Every one has his freaks,” he reflected. “Kitty -is freakish, too, and, who knows, perhaps she was not -joking and may come after all.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>He abandoned himself to this faint, groundless hope, -and it intoxicated him.</p> - -<p class='c011'>He crossed the fields for half a mile. The dark -band of trees in the cemetery appeared in the distance -like a wood or a large garden, then a white stone wall -loomed up before him, and soon, by the light of the -moon, Startseff was able to read the inscription over -the gate: “Thy hour also approacheth—” He went -in through a little side gate, and his eye was struck -first by the white crosses and monuments on either side -of a wide avenue, and by their black shadows and the -shadows of the tall poplars that bordered the walk. -Around him, on all sides, he could see the same -checkering of white and black, with the sleeping trees -<span class='pageno' id='Page_169'>169</span>brooding over the white tombstones. The night did not -seem so dark as it had appeared in the fields. The -fallen leaves of the maples, like tiny hands, lay sharply -defined upon the sandy walks and marble slabs, and -the inscriptions on the tombstones were clearly legible. -Startseff was struck with the reflection that he now -saw for the first and perhaps the last time a world unlike -any other, a world that seemed to be the very cradle -of the soft moonlight, where there was no life, no, not a -breath of it; and yet, in every dark poplar, in every -grave he felt the presence of a great mystery promising -life, calm, beautiful, and eternal. Peace and sadness -and mercy rose with the scent of autumn from the -graves, the leaves, and the faded flowers.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Profoundest silence lay over all; the stars looked -down from heaven with deep humility. Startseff’s -footsteps sounded jarring and out of place. It was -only when the church-bells began to ring the hour, and -he imagined himself lying dead under the ground for -ever, that some one seemed to be watching him, and -he thought suddenly that here were not silence and -peace, but stifling despair and the dull anguish of nonexistence.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Demetti’s grave was a little chapel surmounted by -an angel. An Italian opera troupe had once come to -S., and one of its members had died there. She had -been buried here, and this monument had been erected -to her memory. No one in the city any longer remembered -her, but the shrine lamp hanging in the -<span class='pageno' id='Page_170'>170</span>doorway sparkled in the moon’s rays and seemed to -be alight.</p> - -<p class='c011'>No one was at the grave, and who should come there -at midnight? Startseff waited, and the moonlight kindled -all the passion in him. He ardently painted in his -imagination the longed-for kiss and the embrace. He -sat down beside the monument for half an hour, and -then walked up and down the paths with his hat in -his hand, waiting and thinking. How many girls, how -many women, were lying here under these stones who -had been beautiful and enchanting, and who had loved -and glowed with passion in the night under the caresses -of their lovers! How cruelly does Mother Nature jest -with mankind! How bitter to acknowledge it! So -thought Startseff and longed to scream aloud that he -did not want to be jested with, that he wanted love at -any price. Around him gleamed not white blocks of -marble, but beautiful human forms timidly hiding -among the shadows of the trees. He felt keen anguish.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Then, as if a curtain had been drawn across the -scene, the moon vanished behind a cloud and darkness -fell about him. Startseff found the gate with difficulty -in the obscurity of the autumn night, and then -wandered about for more than an hour in search of -the alley where he had left his carriage.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I am so tired, I am ready to drop,” he said to -Panteleimon.</p> - -<p class='c011'>And, as he sank blissfully into his seat, he thought:</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Oh dear, I must not get fat!”</p> - -<div> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_171'>171</span> - <h4 class='c014'>III</h4> -</div> - -<p class='c015'>On the evening of the following day Startseff drove -to the Turkins’ to make his proposal. But he proved -to have come at an unfortunate time, as Katherine -was in her room having her hair dressed by a coiffeur -before going to a dance at the club.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Once more Startseff was obliged to sit in the dining-room -for an age drinking tea. Seeing that his guest -was pensive and bored, Turkin took a scrap of paper -out of his waistcoat pocket, and read aloud a droll -letter from his German manager telling how “all the -disavowals on the estate had been spoiled and all -the modesty had been shaken down.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“They will probably give her a good dowry,” thought -Startseff, listening vacantly to what was being read.</p> - -<p class='c011'>After his sleepless night he felt almost stunned, as -if he had drunk some sweet but poisonous sleeping -potion. His mind was hazy but warm and cheerful, -though at the same time a cold, hard fragment of his -brain kept reasoning with him and saying:</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Stop before it is too late! Is she the woman for -you? She is wilful and spoiled; she sleeps until two -every day, and you are a government doctor and a -poor deacon’s son.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Well, what does that matter?” he thought. “What -if I am?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“And what is more,” that cold fragment continued. -<span class='pageno' id='Page_172'>172</span>“If you marry her her family will make you give up -your government position, and live in town.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“And what of that?” he thought. “I’ll live in -town then! She will have a dowry. We will keep -house.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>At last Katherine appeared, looking pretty and immaculate -in her low-necked ball dress, and the moment -Startseff saw her he fell into such transports that he -could not utter a word and could only stare at her -and laugh.</p> - -<p class='c011'>She began to say good-bye, and as there was nothing -to keep him here now that she was going, he, too, rose, -saying that it was time for him to be off to attend to -his patients in Dialij.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“If you must go now,” said Turkin, “you can take -Kitty to the club; it is on your way.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>A light drizzle was falling and it was very dark, so -that only by the help of Panteleimon’s cough could -they tell where the carriage was. The hood of the -victoria was raised.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Roll away!” cried Turkin, seating his daughter in -the carriage. “Rolling stones gather no moss! God -speed you, if you please!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>They drove away.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I went to the cemetery last night,” Startseff began. -“How heartless and unkind of you——”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“You went to the cemetery?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Yes, I did, and waited there for you until nearly -two o’clock. I was very unhappy.”</p> - -<p class='c011'><span class='pageno' id='Page_173'>173</span>“Then be unhappy if you can’t understand a -joke!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Delighted to have caught her lover so cleverly, and -to see him so much in love, Katherine burst out laughing, -and then suddenly screamed as the carriage tipped -and turned sharply in at the club gates. Startseff -put his arm around her waist, and in her fright the -girl pressed closer to him. At that he could contain -himself no longer, and passionately kissed her on the -lips and on the chin, holding her tighter than ever.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“That will do!” she said drily.</p> - -<p class='c011'>And a moment later she was no longer in the carriage, -and the policeman standing near the lighted -entrance to the club was shouting to Panteleimon in -a harsh voice:</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Move on, you old crow! What are you standing -there for?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Startseff drove home, but only to return at once -arrayed in a borrowed dress suit and a stiff collar that -was always trying to climb up off the collar-band. -At midnight he was sitting in the reception-room of -the club, saying passionately to Katherine:</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Oh, how ignorant people are who have never -loved! No one, I think, has ever truly described love, -and it would scarcely be possible to depict this -tender, blissful, agonising feeling. He who has once -felt it would never be able to put it into words. Do -I need introductions and descriptions? Do I need -oratory to tell me what it is? My love is unspeakable—I -<span class='pageno' id='Page_174'>174</span>beg you, I implore you to be my wife!” cried -Startseff at last.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Dimitri Ionitch,” said Katherine, assuming a very -serious, thoughtful expression. “Dimitri Ionitch, I -am very grateful to you for the honour you do me. I -esteem you, but—” here she rose and stood before him. -“But, forgive me, I cannot be your wife. Let us be -serious. You know, Dimitri Ionitch, that I love art -more than anything else in the world. I am passionately -fond of, I adore, music, and if I could I would consecrate -my whole life to it. I want to be a musician. I long -for fame and success and freedom and you ask me to -go on living in this town, and to continue this empty, -useless existence which has become unbearable to me! -You want me to marry? Ah no, that cannot be! One -should strive for a higher and brighter ideal, and -family life would tie me down for ever. Dimitri Ionitch—” -(she smiled a little as she said these words, -remembering Alexei Theofilaktitch) “Dimitri Ionitch, -you are kind and noble and clever, you are the nicest -man I know” (her eyes filled with tears). “I sympathise -with you with all my heart, but—but you -must understand——”</p> - -<p class='c011'>She turned away and left the room, unable to restrain -her tears.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Startseff’s heart ceased beating madly. His first -action on reaching the street was to tear off his stiff -collar and draw a long, deep breath. He felt a little -humiliated, and his pride was stung, for he had not expected -<span class='pageno' id='Page_175'>175</span>a refusal, and could not believe that all his -hopes and pangs and dreams had come to such a -silly ending; he might as well have been the hero of -a playlet at a performance of amateur theatricals! -He regretted his lost love and emotion, regretted it so -keenly that he could have sobbed aloud or given -Panteleimon’s broad back a good, sound blow with -his umbrella.</p> - -<p class='c011'>For three days after that evening his business went -to ruin, and he could neither eat nor sleep, but when -he heard a rumour that Katherine had gone to Moscow -to enter the conservatory he grew calmer, and once -more gathered up the lost threads of his life.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Later, when he remembered how he had wandered -about the cemetery and rushed all over town looking -for a dress suit, he would yawn lazily and say:</p> - -<p class='c011'>“What a business that was!”</p> - -<h4 class='c014'>IV</h4> - -<p class='c015'>Four years went by. Startseff now had a large practice -in the city. He hastily prescribed for his sick -people every morning at Dialij, and then drove to -town to see his patients there, returning late at night. -He had grown stouter and heavier, and would not -walk, if he could help it, suffering as he did from -asthma. Panteleimon, too, had become stouter, and -the more he grew in width the more bitterly he sighed -and lamented his hard lot: he was so tired of driving!</p> - -<p class='c011'><span class='pageno' id='Page_176'>176</span>Startseff was now an occasional guest at several -houses, but he had made close friends with no one. The -conversation, the point of view, and even the looks of -the inhabitants of S. bored him. Experience had taught -him that as long as he played cards, or dined with them, -they were peaceful, good-natured, and even fairly intelligent -folk, but he had only to speak of anything -that was not edible, he had only to mention politics -or science to them, for them to become utterly nonplussed, -or else to talk such foolish and mischievous -nonsense that there was nothing to be done but to -shrug one’s shoulders and leave them. If Startseff -tried to say to even the most liberal of them that, for -instance, mankind was fortunately progressing, and -that in time we should no longer suffer under a system -of passports and capital punishment, they would look at -him askance, and say mistrustfully: “Then one will be -able to kill any one one wants to on the street, will one?” -Or if at supper, in talking about work, Startseff said -that labour was a good thing, and every one should -work, each person present would take it as a personal -affront and begin an angry and tiresome argument. -As they never did anything and were not interested -in anything, and as Startseff could never for the life of -him think of anything to say to them, he avoided all -conversation and confined himself to eating and playing -cards. If there was a family fête at one of the -houses and he was asked to dinner, he would eat in -silence with his eyes fixed on his plate, listening to all -<span class='pageno' id='Page_177'>177</span>the uninteresting, false, stupid things that were being -said around him and feeling irritated and bored. But -he would remain silent, and because he always sternly -held his tongue and never raised his eyes from his -plate, he was known as “the puffed-up Pole,” although -he was no more of a Pole than you or I. He shunned -amusements, such as theatres and concerts, but he -played cards with enjoyment for two or three hours -every evening. There was one other pleasure to which -he had unconsciously, little by little, become addicted, -and that was to empty his pockets every evening of -the little bills he had received in his practice during -the day. Sometimes he would find them scattered -through all his pockets, seventy roubles’ worth of them, -yellow ones and green ones, smelling of scent, and -vinegar, and incense, and kerosene. When he had -collected a hundred or more he would take them to -the Mutual Loan Society, and have them put to his -account.</p> - -<p class='c011'>In all the four years following Katherine’s departure, -he had only been to the Turkins’ twice, each time at -the request of Madame Turkin, who was still suffering -from headaches. Katherine came back every summer -to visit her parents, but he did not see her once; -chance, somehow, willed otherwise.</p> - -<p class='c011'>And so four years had gone by. One warm, still -morning a letter was brought to him at the hospital. -Madame Turkin wrote that she missed Dimitri Ionitch -very much and begged him to come without fail and -<span class='pageno' id='Page_178'>178</span>relieve her sufferings, especially as it happened to be -her birthday that day. At the end of the letter was -a postscript: “I join my entreaties to those of my -mother. K.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Startseff reflected a moment, and in the evening he -drove to the Turkins’.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Ah, be welcome, if you please!” Turkin cried with -smiling eyes. “Bonjour to you!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Madame Turkin, who had aged greatly and whose -hair was now white, pressed his hand and sighed -affectedly, saying:</p> - -<p class='c011'>“You don’t want to flirt with me I see, doctor, you -never come to see me. I am too old for you, but here -is a young thing, perhaps she may be more lucky than -I am!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>And Kitty? She had grown thinner and paler and -was handsomer and more graceful than before, but -she was Miss Katherine now, and Kitty no longer. -Her freshness, and her artless, childish expression were -gone; there was something new in her glance and -manner, something timid and apologetic, as if she no -longer felt at home here, in the house of the Turkins.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“How many summers, how many winters have -gone by!” she said, giving her hand to Startseff, and -one could see that her heart was beating anxiously. -She looked curiously and intently into his face, and -continued: “How stout you have grown! You look -browner and more manly, but otherwise you haven’t -changed much.”</p> - -<p class='c011'><span class='pageno' id='Page_179'>179</span>She pleased him now as she had pleased him before, -she pleased him very much, but something seemed to -be wanting in her—or was it that there was something -about her which would better have been lacking? He -could not say, but he was prevented, somehow, from -feeling toward her as he had felt in the past. He did -not like her pallor, the new expression in her face, her -weak smile, her voice, and, in a little while, he did -not like her dress and the chair she was sitting in, and -something displeased him about the past in which he -had nearly married her. He remembered his love and -the dreams and hopes that had thrilled him four years -ago, and at the recollection he felt awkward.</p> - -<p class='c011'>They drank tea and ate cake. Then Madame Turkin -read a story aloud, read of things that had never -happened in this world, while Startseff sat looking at -her handsome grey head, waiting for her to finish.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“It is not the people who can’t write novels who are -stupid,” he thought. “But the people who write them -and can’t conceal it.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Not baddish!” said Turkin.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Then Katherine played a long, loud piece on the -piano, and when she had finished every one went into -raptures and overwhelmed her with prolonged expressions -of gratitude.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“It’s a good thing I didn’t marry her!” thought -Startseff.</p> - -<p class='c011'>She looked at him, evidently expecting him to invite -her to go into the garden, but he remained silent.</p> - -<p class='c011'><span class='pageno' id='Page_180'>180</span>“Do let us have a talk!” she said going up to him. -“How are you? What are you doing? Tell me about -it all! I have been thinking about you for three days,” -she added nervously. “I wanted to write you a letter, -I wanted to go to see you myself at Dialij, and then -changed my mind. I have no idea how you will treat -me now. I was so excited waiting for you to-day. Do -let us go into the garden!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>They went out and took their seats under the old -maple-tree, where they had sat four years before. -Night was falling.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Well, and what have you been doing?” asked -Katherine.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Nothing much; just living somehow,” answered -Startseff.</p> - -<p class='c011'>And that was all he could think of saying. They -were silent.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I am so excited!” said Katherine, covering her -face with her hands. “But don’t pay any attention -to me. I am so glad to be at home, I am so glad to -see every one again that I cannot get used to it. How -many memories we have between us! I thought you -and I would talk without stopping until morning!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>He saw her face and her shining eyes more closely -now, and she looked younger to him than she had in -the house. Even her childish expression seemed to -have returned. She was gazing at him with naïve -curiosity, as if she wanted to see and understand more -clearly this man who had once loved her so tenderly -<span class='pageno' id='Page_181'>181</span>and so unhappily. Her eyes thanked him for his love. -And he remembered all that had passed between them -down to the smallest detail, remembered how he had -wandered about the cemetery and had gone home exhausted -at dawn. He grew suddenly sad and felt sorry -to think that the past had vanished for ever. A little -flame sprang up in his heart.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Do you remember how I took you to the club that -evening?” he asked. “It was raining and dark——”</p> - -<p class='c011'>The little flame was burning more brightly, and -now he wanted to talk and to lament his dull life.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Alas!” he sighed. “You ask what I have been -doing! What do we all do here? Nothing! We grow -older and fatter and more sluggish. Day in, day out our -colourless life passes by without impressions, without -thoughts. It is money by day and the club by night, -in the company of gamblers and inebriates whom I -cannot endure. What is there in that?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“But you have your work, your noble end in life. -You used to like so much to talk about your hospital. -I was a queer girl then, I thought I was a great pianist. -All girls play the piano these days, and I played, too; -there was nothing remarkable about me. I am as -much of a pianist as mamma is an author. Of course -I didn’t understand you then, but later, in Moscow, -I often thought of you. I thought only of you. Oh, -what a joy it must be to be a country doctor, to help -the sick and to serve the people! Oh, what a joy!” -Katherine repeated with exaltation. “When I thought -<span class='pageno' id='Page_182'>182</span>of you while I was in Moscow you seemed to me to be -so lofty and ideal——”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Startseff remembered the little bills which he took -out of his pockets every evening with such pleasure, -and the little flame went out.</p> - -<p class='c011'>He rose to go into the house. She took his arm.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“You are the nicest person I have ever known in -my life,” she continued. “We shall see one another -and talk together often, shan’t we? Promise me that! -I am not a pianist, I cherish no more illusions about -myself, and shall not play to you or talk music to you -any more.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>When they had entered the house, and, in the evening -light, Startseff saw her face and her melancholy -eyes turned on him full of gratitude and suffering, he -felt uneasy and thought again:</p> - -<p class='c011'>“It’s a good thing I didn’t marry her!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>He began to take his leave.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“No law of the Medes and Persians allows you to -go away before supper!” cried Turkin, accompanying -him to the door. “It is extremely peripatetic on your -part. Come, do your act!” he cried to Pava as they -reached the front hall.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Pava, no longer a boy, but a young fellow with a -moustache, struck an attitude, raised one hand, and -said in a tragic voice:</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Die, unhappy woman!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>All this irritated Startseff, and as he took his seat -in his carriage and looked at the house and the dark -<span class='pageno' id='Page_183'>183</span>garden that had once been so dear to him, he was -overwhelmed by the recollection of Madame Turkin’s -novels and Kitty’s noisy playing and Turkin’s witticisms -and Pava’s tragic pose, and, as he recalled -them, he thought:</p> - -<p class='c011'>“If the cleverest people in town are as stupid as -that, what a deadly town this must be!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Three days later Pava brought the doctor a letter -from Katherine.</p> - -<p class='c016'>“You don’t come to see us; why?” she wrote. “I -am afraid your feeling for us has changed, and the -very thought of that terrifies me. Calm my fears; -come and tell me that all is well! I absolutely must -see you.</p> - -<div class='lg-container-r c017'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>Yours,</div> - <div class='line in12'>K. T.”</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c011'>He read the letter, reflected a moment, and said to -Pava:</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Tell them I can’t get away to-day, my boy. Tell -them I’ll go to see them in three days’ time.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>But three days went by, a week went by, and still -he did not go. Every time that he drove past the -Turkins’ house he remembered that he ought to drop -in there for a few minutes; he remembered it and—did -not go.</p> - -<p class='c011'>He never went to the Turkins’ again.</p> - -<div> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_184'>184</span> - <h4 class='c014'>V</h4> -</div> - -<p class='c015'>Several years have passed since then. Startseff is -stouter than ever now, he is even fat. He breathes -heavily and walks with his head thrown back. The -picture he now makes, as he drives by with his troika -and his jingling carriage-bells, is impressive. He is -round and red, and Panteleimon, round and red, with -a brawny neck, sits on the box with his arms stuck -straight out in front of him like pieces of wood, shouting -to every one he meets: “Turn to the right!” It is -more like the passage of a heathen god than of a man. -He has an immense practice in the city, there is no -time for repining now. He already owns an estate -in the country and two houses in town, and is thinking -of buying a third which will be even more remunerative -than the others. If, at the Mutual Loan Society, -he hears of a house for sale he goes straight to it, enters -it without more ado, and walks through all the rooms -not paying the slightest heed to any women or children -who may be dressing there, though they look -at him with doubt and fear. He taps all the doors -with his cane and asks:</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Is this the library? Is this a bedroom? And what -is this?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>And he breathes heavily as he says it and wipes the -perspiration from his forehead.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Although he has so much business on his hands, he -<span class='pageno' id='Page_185'>185</span>still keeps his position of government doctor at Dialij. -His acquisitiveness is too strong, and he wants to find -time for everything. He is simply called “Ionitch” -now, both in Dialij and in the city. “Where is Ionitch -going?” the people ask, or “Shall we call in Ionitch -to the consultation?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>His voice has changed and has become squeaky and -harsh, probably because his throat is obstructed with -fat. His character, too, has changed and he has -grown irascible and crusty. He generally loses his temper -with his patients and irritably thumps the floor -with his stick, exclaiming in his unpleasant voice:</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Be good enough to confine yourself to answering -my questions! No conversation!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>He is lonely, he is bored, and nothing interests -him.</p> - -<p class='c011'>During all his life in Dialij his love for Kitty had -been his only happiness, and will probably be his last. -In the evening he plays cards in the club, and then -sits alone at a large table and has supper. Ivan, the -oldest and most respectable of the waiters, waits upon -him and pours out his glass of Lafitte No. 17. Every -one at the club, the officers and the chef and the -waiters, all know what he likes and what he doesn’t -like and strive with might and main to please him, -for if they don’t he will suddenly grow angry and -begin thumping the floor with his cane.</p> - -<p class='c011'>After supper he occasionally relents and takes part -in a conversation.</p> - -<p class='c011'><span class='pageno' id='Page_186'>186</span>“What were you saying? What? Whom did you -say?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>And if the conversation at a neighbouring table -turns on the Turkins, he asks:</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Which Turkins do you mean? The ones whose -daughter plays the piano?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>That is all that can be said of Startseff.</p> - -<p class='c011'>And the Turkins? The father has not grown old, -and has not changed in any way. He still makes -jokes and tells funny stories. The mother still reads -her novels aloud to her guests, with as much pleasure -and genial simplicity as ever. Kitty practises the -piano for four hours every day. She has grown conspicuously -older, is delicate, and goes to the Crimea -every autumn with her mother. As he bids them -farewell at the station, Turkin wipes his eyes and -cries as the train moves away:</p> - -<p class='c011'>“God speed you, if you please!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>And he waves his handkerchief after them.</p> - -<div> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_187'>187</span> - <h3 class='c009'>AT CHRISTMAS TIME</h3> -</div> - -<p class='drop-capa0_0_6 c010'>“What shall I write?” asked Yegor, dipping -his pen in the ink.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Vasilissa had not seen her daughter for four years. -Efimia had gone away to St. Petersburg with her -husband after her wedding, had written two letters, -and then had vanished as if the earth had engulfed -her, not a word nor a sound had come from her since. -So now, whether the aged mother was milking the -cow at daybreak, or lighting the stove, or dozing at -night, the tenor of her thoughts was always the same: -“How is Efimia? Is she alive and well?” She wanted -to send her a letter, but the old father could not write, -and there was no one whom they could ask to write -it for them.</p> - -<p class='c011'>But now Christmas had come, and Vasilissa could -endure the silence no longer. She went to the tavern -to see Yegor, the innkeeper’s wife’s brother, who had -done nothing but sit idly at home in the tavern since -he had come back from military service, but of whom -people said that he wrote the most beautiful letters, if -only one paid him enough. Vasilissa talked with the -cook at the tavern, and with the innkeeper’s wife, and -finally with Yegor himself, and at last they agreed on -a price of fifteen copecks.</p> - -<p class='c011'><span class='pageno' id='Page_188'>188</span>So now, on the second day of the Christmas festival, -Yegor was sitting at a table in the inn kitchen with -a pen in his hand. Vasilissa was standing in front of -him, plunged in thought, with a look of care and sorrow -on her face. Her husband, Peter, a tall, gaunt old -man with a bald, brown head, had accompanied her. -He was staring steadily in front of him like a blind -man; a pan of pork that was frying on the stove was -sizzling and puffing, and seeming to say: “Hush, hush, -hush!” The kitchen was hot and close.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“What shall I write?” Yegor asked again.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“What’s that?” asked Vasilissa, looking at him -angrily and suspiciously. “Don’t hurry me! You -are writing this letter for money, not for love! Now -then, begin. To our esteemed son-in-law, Andrei -Khrisanfitch, and our only and beloved daughter -Efimia, we send greetings and love, and the everlasting -blessing of their parents.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“All right, fire away!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“We wish them a happy Christmas. We are alive -and well, and we wish the same for you in the -name of God, our Father in heaven—our Father -in heaven——”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Vasilissa stopped to think, and exchanged glances -with the old man.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“We wish the same for you in the name of God, -our Father in Heaven—” she repeated and burst into -tears.</p> - -<p class='c011'>That was all she could say. Yet she had thought, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_189'>189</span>as she had lain awake thinking night after night, that -ten letters could not contain all she wanted to say. -Much water had flowed into the sea since their daughter -had gone away with her husband, and the old people -had been as lonely as orphans, sighing sadly in the -night hours, as if they had buried their child. How -many things had happened in the village in all these -years! How many people had married, how many -had died! How long the winters had been, and how -long the nights!</p> - -<p class='c011'>“My, but it’s hot!” exclaimed Yegor, unbuttoning -his waistcoat. “The temperature must be seventy! -Well, what next?” he asked.</p> - -<p class='c011'>The old people answered nothing.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“What is your son-in-law’s profession?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“He used to be a soldier, brother; you know that,” -replied the old man in a feeble voice. “He went into -military service at the same time you did. He used -to be a soldier, but now he is in a hospital where a -doctor treats sick people with water. He is the doorkeeper -there.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“You can see it written here,” said the old woman, -taking a letter out of her handkerchief. “We got this -from Efimia a long, long time ago. She may not be -alive now.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Yegor reflected a moment, and then began to write -swiftly.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Fate has ordained you for the military profession,” -he wrote, “therefore we recommend you to look into -<span class='pageno' id='Page_190'>190</span>the articles on disciplinary punishment and penal laws -of the war department, and to find there the laws of -civilisation for members of that department.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>When this was written he read it aloud whilst Vasilissa -thought of how she would like to write that there -had been a famine last year, and that their flour had -not even lasted until Christmas, so that they had been -obliged to sell their cow; that the old man was often -ill, and must soon surrender his soul to God; that -they needed money—but how could she put all this -into words? What should she say first and what last?</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Turn your attention to the fifth volume of military -definitions,” Yegor wrote. “The word soldier is a -general appellation, a distinguishing term. Both the -commander-in-chief of an army and the last infantryman -in the ranks are alike called soldiers——”</p> - -<p class='c011'>The old man’s lips moved and he said in a low voice:</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I should like to see my little grandchildren!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“What grandchildren?” asked the old woman -crossly. “Perhaps there are no grandchildren.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“No grandchildren? But perhaps there are! Who -knows?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“And from this you may deduce,” Yegor hurried -on, “which is an internal, and which is a foreign enemy. -Our greatest internal enemy is Bacchus——”</p> - -<p class='c011'>The pen scraped and scratched, and drew long, curly -lines like fish-hooks across the paper. Yegor wrote at -full speed and underlined each sentence two or three -times. He was sitting on a stool with his legs stretched -<span class='pageno' id='Page_191'>191</span>far apart under the table, a fat, lusty creature with a -fiery nape and the face of a bulldog. He was the very -essence of coarse, arrogant, stiff-necked vulgarity, -proud to have been born and bred in a pot-house, and -Vasilissa well knew how vulgar he was, but could not -find words to express it, and could only glare angrily -and suspiciously at him. Her head ached from the -sound of his voice and his unintelligible words, and -from the oppressive heat of the room, and her mind -was confused. She could neither think nor speak, and -could only stand and wait for Yegor’s pen to stop -scratching. But the old man was looking at the writer -with unbounded confidence in his eyes. He trusted -his old woman who had brought him here, he trusted -Yegor, and, when he had spoken of the hydropathic -establishment just now, his face had shown that he -trusted that, and the healing power of its waters.</p> - -<p class='c011'>When the letter was written, Yegor got up and read -it aloud from beginning to end. The old man understood -not a word, but he nodded his head confidingly, -and said:</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Very good. It runs smoothly. Thank you kindly, -it is very good.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>They laid three five-copeck pieces on the table and -went out. The old man walked away staring straight -ahead of him like a blind man, and a look of utmost -confidence lay in his eyes, but Vasilissa, as she left -the tavern, struck at a dog in her path and exclaimed -angrily:</p> - -<p class='c011'><span class='pageno' id='Page_192'>192</span>“Ugh—the plague!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>All that night the old woman lay awake full of restless -thoughts, and at dawn she rose, said her prayers, -and walked eleven miles to the station to post the -letter.</p> - -<h4 class='c014'>II</h4> - -<p class='c015'>Doctor Moselweiser’s hydropathic establishment was -open on New Year’s Day as usual; the only difference -was that Andrei Khrisanfitch, the doorkeeper, was -wearing unusually shiny boots and a uniform trimmed -with new gold braid, and that he wished every one -who came in a happy New Year.</p> - -<p class='c011'>It was morning. Andrei was standing at the door -reading a paper. At ten o’clock precisely an old general -came in who was one of the regular visitors of -the establishment. Behind him came the postman. -Andrei took the general’s cloak, and said:</p> - -<p class='c011'>“A happy New Year to your Excellency!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Thank you, friend, the same to you!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>And as he mounted the stairs the general nodded -toward a closed door and asked, as he did every day, -always forgetting the answer:</p> - -<p class='c011'>“And what is there in there?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“A room for massage, your Excellency.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>When the general’s footsteps had died away, Andrei -looked over the letters and found one addressed to -him. He opened it, read a few lines, and then, still -looking at his newspaper, sauntered toward the little -<span class='pageno' id='Page_193'>193</span>room down-stairs at the end of a passage where he and -his family lived. His wife Efimia was sitting on the -bed feeding a baby, her oldest boy was standing at -her knee with his curly head in her lap, and a third -child was lying asleep on the bed.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Andrei entered their little room, and handed the -letter to his wife, saying:</p> - -<p class='c011'>“This must be from the village.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Then he went out again, without raising his eyes -from his newspaper, and stopped in the passage not -far from the door. He heard Efimia read the first -lines in a trembling voice. She could go no farther, -but these were enough. Tears streamed from her eyes -and she threw her arms round her eldest child and -began talking to him and covering him with kisses. -It was hard to tell whether she was laughing or crying.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“This is from granny and granddaddy,” she cried—“from -the village—oh, Queen of Heaven!—Oh! holy -saints! The roofs are piled with snow there now—and -the trees are white, oh, so white! The little children -are out coasting on their dear little sleddies—and granddaddy -darling, with his dear bald head is sitting by the -big, old, warm stove, and the little brown doggie—oh, -my precious chickabiddies——”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Andrei remembered as he listened to her that his -wife had given him letters at three or four different -times, and had asked him to send them to the village, -but important business had always interfered, and the -letters had remained lying about unposted.</p> - -<p class='c011'><span class='pageno' id='Page_194'>194</span>“And the little white hares are skipping about in -the fields now—” sobbed Efimia, embracing her boy -with streaming eyes. “Granddaddy dear is so kind and -good, and granny is so kind and so full of pity. People’s -hearts are soft and warm in the village.—There -is a little church there, and the men sing in the choir. -Oh, take us away from here, Queen of Heaven! Intercede -for us, merciful mother!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Andrei returned to his room to smoke until the -next patient should come in, and Efimia suddenly -grew still and wiped her eyes; only her lips quivered. -She was afraid of him, oh, so afraid! She quaked and -shuddered at every look and every footstep of his, and -never dared to open her mouth in his presence.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Andrei lit a cigarette, but at that moment a bell -rang up-stairs. He put out his cigarette, and assuming -a very solemn expression, hurried to the front door.</p> - -<p class='c011'>The old general, rosy and fresh from his bath, was -descending the stairs.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“And what is there in there?” he asked, pointing -to a closed door.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Andrei drew himself up at attention, and answered -in a loud voice:</p> - -<p class='c011'>“The hot douche, your Excellency.”</p> - -<div> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_195'>195</span> - <h3 class='c009'>IN THE COACH HOUSE</h3> -</div> - -<p class='drop-capa0_0_6 c010'>It was ten o’clock at night. Stepan, the coachman, -Mikailo, the house porter, Aliosha the coachman’s -grandson who was visiting his grandfather, and the -old herring-vender Nikander who came peddling his -wares every evening were assembled around a lantern -in the large coach house playing cards. The door stood -open and commanded a view of the whole courtyard -with the wide double gates, the manor-house, the ice -and vegetable cellars, and the servants’ quarters. The -scene was wrapped in the darkness of night, only four -brilliantly lighted windows blazed in the wing of the -house, which had been rented to tenants. The carriages -and sleighs, with their shafts raised in the air, -threw from the walls to the door long, tremulous -shadows which mingled with those cast by the players -around the lantern. In the stables beyond stood the -horses, separated from the coach house by a light -railing. The scent of hay hung in the air, and Nikander -exhaled an unpleasant odour of herring.</p> - -<p class='c011'>They were playing “Kings.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I am king!” cried the porter, assuming a pose -which he thought befittingly regal, and blowing his -nose loudly with a red and white checked handkerchief. -<span class='pageno' id='Page_196'>196</span>“Come on! Who wants to have his head cut -off?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Aliosha, a boy of eight with a rough shock of blond -hair, who had lacked but two tricks of being a king -himself, now cast eyes of resentment and envy at the -porter. He pouted and frowned.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I’m going to lead up to you, grandpa,” he said, -pondering over his cards. “I know you must have -the queen of hearts.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Come, little stupid, stop thinking and play!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Aliosha irresolutely led the knave of hearts. At -that moment a bell rang in the courtyard.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Oh, the devil—” muttered the porter rising. “The -king must go and open the gate.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>When he returned a few moments later Aliosha was -already a prince, the herring-man was a soldier, and -the coachman was a peasant.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“It’s a bad business in there,” said the porter resuming -his seat. “I have just seen the doctor off. -They didn’t get it out.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Huh! How could they? All they did, I’ll be bound, -was to make a hole in his head. When a man has -a bullet in his brain it’s no use to bother with doctors!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“He is lying unconscious,” continued the porter. -“He will surely die. Aliosha, don’t look at my cards, -lambkin, or you’ll get your ears boxed. Yes, it was -out with the doctor, and in with his father and mother; -they have just come. The Lord forbid such a crying -<span class='pageno' id='Page_197'>197</span>and moaning as they are carrying on! They keep -saying that he was their only son. It’s a pity!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>All, except Aliosha who was engrossed in the game, -glanced up at the lighted windows.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“We have all got to go to the police station to-morrow,” -said the porter. “There is going to be an -inquest. But what do I know about it? Did I see -what happened? All I know is that he called me -this morning, and gave me a letter and said: ‘Drop -this in the letter-box.’ And his eyes were all red with -crying. His wife and children were away; they had -gone for a walk. So while I was taking his letter to -the mail he shot himself in the forehead with a revolver. -When I came back his cook was already shrieking at -the top of her lungs.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“He committed a great sin!” said the herring-man -in a hoarse voice, wagging his head. “A great -sin.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“He went crazy from knowing too much,” said the -porter, picking up a trick. “He used to sit up at night -writing papers—play, peasant! But he was a kind -gentleman, and so pale and tall and black-eyed! He -was a good tenant.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“They say there was a woman at the bottom of -it,” said the coachman, slapping a ten of trumps on -a king of hearts. “They say he was in love with another -man’s wife, and had got to dislike his own. That -happens sometimes.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I crown myself king!” exclaimed the porter.</p> - -<p class='c011'><span class='pageno' id='Page_198'>198</span>The bell in the courtyard rang again. The victorious -monarch spat angrily and left the coach house. -Shadows like those of dancing couples were flitting to -and fro across the windows of the wing. Frightened -voices and hurrying footsteps were heard.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“The doctor must have come back,” said the coachman. -“Our Mikailo is running.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>A strange, wild scream suddenly rent the air.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Aliosha looked nervously first at his grandfather, -and then at the windows, and said:</p> - -<p class='c011'>“He patted me on the head yesterday, and asked -me where I was from. Grandfather, who was that -howling just now?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>His grandfather said nothing, and turned up the -flame of the lantern.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“A man has died,” he said with a yawn. “His soul -is lost and his children are lost. This will be a disgrace -to them for the rest of their lives.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>The porter returned, and sat down near the lantern.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“He is dead!” he said. “The old women from the -almshouse have been sent for.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Eternal peace and the kingdom of heaven be his!” -whispered the coachman crossing himself.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Aliosha also crossed himself with his eyes on his -grandfather.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“You mustn’t pray for souls like his,” the herring-man -said.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Why not?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Because it’s a sin.”</p> - -<p class='c011'><span class='pageno' id='Page_199'>199</span>“That’s the truth,” the porter agreed. “His soul -has gone straight to the Evil One in hell.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“It’s a sin,” repeated the herring-man. “Men like -him are neither shriven nor buried in church, but -shovelled away like carrion.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>The old man got up, and slung his sack across his -shoulder.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“It happened that way with our general’s lady,” -he said, adjusting the pack on his back. “We were -still serfs at that time, and her youngest son shot himself -in the head just as this one did, from knowing too -much. The law says that such people must be buried -outside the churchyard without a priest or a requiem. -But to avoid the disgrace, our mistress greased the -palms of the doctors and the police, and they gave her -a paper saying that her son had done it by accident -when he was crazy with fever. Money can do anything. -So he was given a fine funeral with priests and -music, and laid away under the church that his father -had built with his own money, where the rest of the -family were. Well, friends, one month passed, and -another month passed, and nothing happened. But -during the third month our mistress was told that the -church watchmen wanted to see her. ‘What do they -want?’ she asked. The watchmen were brought to her, -and they fell down at her feet. ‘Your ladyship!’ they -cried. ‘We can’t watch there any longer. You must -find some other watchmen, and let us go!’ ‘Why?’ -she asked. ‘No!’ they said. ‘We can’t possibly -<span class='pageno' id='Page_200'>200</span>stay. Your young gentleman howls under the church -all night long.’”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Aliosha trembled and buried his face in his grandfather’s -back so as not to see those shining windows.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“At first our mistress wouldn’t listen to their complaints,” -the old man went on. “She told them they -were silly to be afraid of ghosts, and that a dead man -couldn’t possibly howl. But in a few days the watchmen -came back, and the deacon came with them. He, too, -had heard the corpse howling. Our mistress saw that -the business was bad, so she shut herself up in her -room with the watchmen and said to them: ‘Here are -twenty-five roubles for you, my friends. Go into the -church quietly at night when no one can hear you, -and dig up my unhappy son, and bury him outside -the churchyard.’ And she probably gave each man -a glass of something to drink. So the watchmen did -as she told them. The tombstone with its inscription -lies under the church to-day, but the general’s son is -buried outside the churchyard. Oh, Lord, forgive us -poor sinners!” sighed the herring-man. “There is -only one day a year on which one can pray for such -souls as his, and that is on the Saturday before Trinity -Sunday. It’s a sin to give food to beggars in their -name, but one may feed the birds for the peace of -their souls. The general’s widow used to go out to -the crossroads every three days, and feed the birds. -One day a black dog suddenly appeared at the crossroads, -gobbled up the bread, and took to his heels. -<span class='pageno' id='Page_201'>201</span>She knew who it was! For three days after that our -mistress was like a mad woman; she refused to take -food or drink, and every now and then she would suddenly -fall down on her knees in the garden, and pray. -But I’ll say good night now, my friends. God and -the Queen of Heaven be with you! Come Mikailo, -open the gate for me.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>The herring-man and the porter went out, and the -coachman and Aliosha followed them so as not to be -left alone in the coach house.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“The man was living and now he is dead,” the coachman -reflected, gazing at the windows across which the -shadows were still flitting. “This morning he was -walking about the courtyard, and now he is lying there -lifeless.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Our time will come, too,” said the porter as he -walked away with the herring-man and was lost with -him in the darkness.</p> - -<p class='c011'>The coachman, followed by Aliosha, timidly approached -the house and looked in. A very pale woman, -her large eyes red with tears, and a handsome -grey-haired man were moving two card-tables into -the middle of the room; some figures scribbled in -chalk on their green baize tops were still visible. The -cook, who had shrieked so loudly that morning was -now standing on tiptoe on a table trying to cover a -mirror with a sheet.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“What are they doing, grandpa?” Aliosha asked -in a whisper.</p> - -<p class='c011'><span class='pageno' id='Page_202'>202</span>“They are going to lay him on those tables soon,” -answered the old man. “Come, child, it’s time to go -to sleep.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>The coachman and Aliosha returned to the coach -house. They said their prayers and took off their -boots. Stepan stretched himself on the floor in a -corner, and Aliosha climbed into a sleigh. The doors -had been shut, and the newly extinguished lantern -filled the air with a strong smell of smoking oil. In a -few minutes Aliosha raised his head, and stared about -him; the light from those four windows was shining -through the cracks of the door.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Grandpa, I’m frightened!” he said.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“There, there, go to sleep!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“But I tell you I’m frightened!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“What are you afraid of, you spoiled baby?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Both were silent.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Suddenly Aliosha jumped out of the sleigh, burst -into tears, and rushed to his grandfather weeping -loudly.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“What is it? What’s the matter?” cried the startled -coachman, jumping up, too.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“He’s howling!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Who’s howling?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I’m frightened, grandpa! Can’t you hear him?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“That is some one crying,” his grandfather answered. -“Go back to sleep, little silly. They are sad -and so they are crying.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I want to go home!” the boy persisted, sobbing -<span class='pageno' id='Page_203'>203</span>and trembling like a leaf. “Grandpa, do let us go -home to mamma. Let us go, dear grandpa! God -will give you the kingdom of heaven if you will take -me home!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“What a little idiot it is! There, there, be still, -be still. Hush, I’ll light the lantern, silly!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>The coachman felt for the matches, and lit the -lantern, but the light did not calm Aliosha.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Grandpa, let’s go home!” he implored, weeping. -“I’m so frightened here! Oh, <i>oh</i>, I’m so frightened! -Why did you send for me to come here, you hateful -man?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Who is a hateful man? Are you calling your own -grandfather names? I’ll beat you for that!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Beat me, grandpa, beat me like Sidorov’s goat, -only take me back to mamma! Oh, do! do!...”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“There, there, child, hush!” the coachman whispered -tenderly. “No one is going to hurt you, don’t -be afraid. Why, I’m getting frightened myself! Say -a prayer to God!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>The door creaked and the porter thrust his head -into the coach house.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Aren’t you asleep yet, Stepan?” he asked. “I -can’t get any sleep to-night, opening and shutting the -gate every minute. Why, Aliosha, what are you crying -about?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I’m frightened,” answered the coachman’s grandson.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Again that wailing voice rang out. The porter said:</p> - -<p class='c011'><span class='pageno' id='Page_204'>204</span>“They are crying. His mother can’t believe her -eyes. She is carrying on terribly.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Is the father there, too?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Yes, he’s there, but he’s quiet. He’s sitting in a -corner, and not saying a word. The children have -been sent to their relatives. Well, Stepan, shall we -have another game?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Come on!” the coachman assented. “Go and -lie down, Aliosha, and go to sleep. Why you’re old -enough to think of getting married, you young rascal, -and there you are bawling! Run along, child, run -along!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>The porter’s presence calmed Aliosha; he went -timidly to his sleigh and lay down. As he fell asleep -he heard a whispering:</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I take the trick,” his grandfather murmured.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I take the trick,” the porter repeated.</p> - -<p class='c011'>The bell rang in the courtyard, the door creaked -and seemed to say:</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I take the trick!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>When Aliosha saw the dead master in his dreams, -and jumped up weeping for fear of his eyes, it was -already morning. His grandfather was snoring, and -the coach house no longer seemed full of terror.</p> - -<div> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_205'>205</span> - <h3 class='c009'>LADY N——’S STORY</h3> -</div> - -<p class='drop-capa0_0_6 c010'>One late afternoon, ten years ago, the examining -magistrate, Peter Sergeitch, and I rode to the -station together at hay-making time to fetch the mail.</p> - -<p class='c011'>The weather was superb, but as we were riding -home we heard thunder growling, and saw an angry -black cloud coming straight toward us. The storm -was approaching and we were riding into its very -teeth. Our house and the village church were gleaming -white upon its breast, and the tall, silvery poplars -were glistening against it. The scent of rain and of -new-mown hay hung in the air. My companion was in -high spirits, laughing and talking the wildest nonsense.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“How splendid it would be,” he cried, “if we -should suddenly come upon some antique castle of -the Middle Ages with towers battlemented, moss-grown, -and owl-haunted, where we could take refuge -from the storm and where a bolt of lightning would -end by striking us!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>But at that moment the first wave swept across the -rye and oat fields, the wind moaned, and whirling dust -filled the air. Peter Sergeitch laughed and spurred his -horse.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“How glorious!” he cried. “How glorious!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>His gay mood was infectious. I, too, laughed to -<span class='pageno' id='Page_206'>206</span>think that in another moment we should be wet to the -skin, and perhaps struck by lightning.</p> - -<p class='c011'>The blast and the swift pace thrilled us, and set our -blood racing; we caught our breath against the gale -and felt like flying birds.</p> - -<p class='c011'>The wind had fallen when we rode into our courtyard, -and heavy drops of rain were drumming on the -roof and lawn. The stable was deserted.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Peter Sergeitch himself unsaddled the horses, and led -them into their stalls. I stood at the stable door -waiting for him, watching the descent of the slanting -sheets of rain. The sickly sweet scent of hay was -even stronger here than it had been in the fields. The -air was dark with thunder-clouds and rain.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“What a flash!” cried Peter Sergeitch coming to my -side after an especially loud, rolling thunderclap that, -it seemed, must have cleft the sky in two. “Well?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>He stood on the threshold beside me breathing -deeply after our swift ride, with his eyes fixed on my -face. I saw that his glance was full of admiration.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Oh, Natalia!” he cried. “I would give anything -on earth to be able to stand here for ever looking at -you. You are glorious to-day.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>His look was both rapturous and beseeching, his -face was pale, and drops of rain were glistening on his -beard and moustache; these, too, seemed to be looking -lovingly at me.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I love you!” he cried. “I love you and I am happy -because I can see you. I know that you cannot be -<span class='pageno' id='Page_207'>207</span>my wife, but I ask nothing, I desire nothing; only -know that I love you. Don’t answer me, don’t notice -me, only believe that you are very dear to me, and -suffer me to look at you.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>His ecstasy communicated itself to me. I saw his -rapt look, I heard the tones of his voice mingling with -the noise of the rain, and stood rooted to the spot as -if bewitched. I longed to look at those radiant eyes -and listen to those words for ever.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“You are silent! Good!” said Peter Sergeitch. -“Do not speak!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>I was very happy. I laughed with pleasure, and -ran through the pouring rain into the house. He -laughed too, and ran after me.</p> - -<p class='c011'>We burst in wet and panting and tramped noisily -up-stairs like two children. My father and brother, -unaccustomed to seeing me laughing and gay, looked -at me in surprise and began to laugh with us.</p> - -<p class='c011'>The storm blew over, the thunder grew silent, but -the rain-drops still glistened on Peter Sergeitch’s beard. -He sang and whistled and romped noisily with the dog -all the evening, chasing him through the house and -nearly knocking the butler carrying the samovar off his -feet. He ate a huge supper, talking all kinds of nonsense -the while, swearing that if you eat fresh cucumbers -in winter you can smell the spring in your nostrils.</p> - -<p class='c011'>When I went to my room I lit the candle and threw -the casement wide open. A vague sensation took hold -of me. I remembered that I was free and healthy, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_208'>208</span>well-born and rich, and that I was beloved, but chiefly -that I was well-born and rich—well-born and rich! -Goodness, how delightful that was! Later, shrinking -into bed to escape the chill that came stealing in from -the garden with the dew, I lay and tried to decide -whether I loved Peter Sergeitch or not. Not being -able to make head or tail of the question, I went to -sleep.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Next morning when I awoke and saw the shadows -of the lindens and the trembling patches of sunlight -that played across my bed, the events of yesterday rose -vividly before me. Life seemed rich, and varied, and -full of beauty. I dressed quickly and ran singing into -the garden.</p> - -<p class='c011'>And then, what happened? Nothing! When winter -came and we moved to the city, Peter Sergeitch -seldom came to see us. Country acquaintances are -only attractive in the country. In town, in the winter, -they lose half their charm. When they come to call -they look as if they were wearing borrowed clothes, -and they stir their tea much too long. Peter Sergeitch -sometimes spoke of love, but his words did not sound -as enchanting as they had in the country. Here we felt -more keenly the barrier between us. I was titled and -rich; he was poor and was not even a noble, but an -examining magistrate, the son of a deacon. Both of -us—I because I was very young, and he, heaven -knows why—considered this barrier very great and -very high. He smiled affectedly when he was with us -<span class='pageno' id='Page_209'>209</span>in town and criticised high society; if any one beside -himself was in the drawing-room he remained morosely -silent. There is no barrier so high but that it -may be surmounted, but, from what I have known -of him, the modern hero of romance is too timid, too -indolent and lazy, too finical and ready to accept the -idea that he is a failure cheated by life, to make the -struggle. Instead, he carps at the world, and calls it -vile, forgetting that his own criticism at last becomes -vile in itself.</p> - -<p class='c011'>I was beloved; happiness was near, seemed almost -to be walking at my side; my path was strewn with -roses, and I lived without trying to understand myself, -not knowing what I was expecting nor what I -demanded from life. And so time went on and on—Men -with their love passed near me; bright days and -warm nights flew by; the nightingales sang; the air -was sweet with new-mown hay—all these things, so -dear, so touching to remember, flashed by me swiftly, -unheeded, as they do by every one, leaving no trace -behind them, until they vanished like mist. Where is -it all now?</p> - -<p class='c011'>My father died; I grew older. All that had been so -enchanting, so gracious, so hope-inspiring; the sound -of rain, the rolling of thunder, dreams of happiness, -and words of love, all these grew to be a memory -alone. I now see before me a level, deserted plain, -bounded by a dark and terrible horizon, without a -living soul upon it.</p> - -<p class='c011'><span class='pageno' id='Page_210'>210</span>A bell rang. It was Peter Sergeitch. When I see the -winter trees, remembering how they decked themselves -in green for me in summer time, I whisper:</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Oh, you darling things!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>And when I see the people with whom I passed my -own springtime, my heart grows warm and sad, and -I whisper the same words.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Peter Sergeitch had moved to the city long ago -through the influence of my father. He was a little -elderly now, and a little stooping. It was long since -he had spoken any words of love, he talked no nonsense -now, and was dissatisfied with his occupation. -He was a little ailing, and a little disillusioned; he -snapped his fingers at life, and would have been glad -to have had it over. He took his seat in the chimney-corner -and looked silently into the fire. Not knowing -what to say, I asked:</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Well, what news have you?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“None at all.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Silence fell once more. The ruddy firelight played -across his melancholy features.</p> - -<p class='c011'>I remembered our past, and suddenly my shoulders -shook; I bent my head and wept bitterly. I felt unbearably -sorry for myself and for this man, and I -longed passionately for those things which had gone -by, and which life now denied us. I no longer cared -for my riches or my title.</p> - -<p class='c011'>I sobbed aloud with my head in my hands murmuring: -“My God, my God, our lives are ruined!”</p> - -<p class='c011'><span class='pageno' id='Page_211'>211</span>He sat silent and did not tell me not to weep. He -knew that tears must be shed, and that the time for -them had come. I read his pity for me in his eyes, and -I, too, pitied him and was vexed with this timid failure -who had not been able to mould his life or mine -aright.</p> - -<p class='c011'>As I bade him farewell in the hall he seemed purposely -to linger there, putting on his coat. He kissed -my hand in silence twice, and looked long into my -tear-stained face. I was sure that he was remembering -that thunder-storm, those sheets of rain, our laughter, -and my face as it had then been. He tried to say -something; he would have done so gladly, but nothing -came. He only shook his head and pressed my -hand—God bless him!</p> - -<p class='c011'>When he had gone, I went back into the study and -sat down on the carpet before the fire. Grey ashes -were beginning to creep over the dying embers. The -wintry blast was beating against the windows more -angrily than ever and chanting some tale in the -chimney.</p> - -<p class='c011'>The maid servant came in and called my name, -thinking that I had fallen asleep.</p> - -<div> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_212'>212</span> - <h3 class='c009'>A JOURNEY BY CART</h3> -</div> - -<p class='drop-capa0_0_6 c010'>They left the city at half past eight.</p> - -<p class='c011'>The highway was dry and a splendid April sun -was beating fiercely down, but the snow still lay in -the woods and wayside ditches. The long, dark, cruel -winter was only just over, spring had come in a breath, -but to Maria Vasilievna driving along the road in a -cart there was nothing either new or attractive in the -warmth, or the listless, misty woods flushed with the -first heat of spring, or in the flocks of crows flying far -away across the wide, flooded meadows, or in the marvellous, -unfathomable sky into which one felt one could -sail away with such infinite pleasure. Maria Vasilievna -had been a school teacher for thirty years, and -it would have been impossible for her to count the -number of times she had driven to town for her salary, -and returned home as she was doing now. It mattered -not to her whether the season were spring, as now, -or winter, or autumn with darkness and rain; she invariably -longed for one thing and one thing only: a -speedy end to her journey.</p> - -<p class='c011'>She felt as if she had lived in this part of the world -for a long, long time, even a hundred years or more, -and it seemed to her that she knew every stone and -<span class='pageno' id='Page_213'>213</span>every tree along the roadside between her school and -the city. Here lay her past and her present as well, -and she could not conceive of a future beyond her -school and the road and the city, and then the road -and her school again, and then once more the road -and the city.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Of her past before she had been a school teacher she -had long since ceased to think—she had almost forgotten -it. She had had a father and mother once, -and had lived with them in a large apartment near -the Red Gate in Moscow, but her recollection of that -life was as vague and shadowy as a dream. Her -father had died when she was ten years old, and her -mother had soon followed him. She had had a brother, -an officer, with whom she had corresponded at first, but -he had lost the habit of writing to her after a while, -and had stopped answering her letters. Of her former -belongings her mother’s photograph was now her only -possession, and this had been so faded by the dampness -of the school that her mother’s features had all -disappeared except the eyebrows and hair.</p> - -<p class='c011'>When they had gone three miles on their way old -daddy Simon, who was driving the cart, turned round -and said:</p> - -<p class='c011'>“They have caught one of the town officials and -have shipped him away. They say he killed the mayor -of Moscow with the help of some Germans.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Who told you that?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Ivan Ionoff read it in the paper at the inn.”</p> - -<p class='c011'><span class='pageno' id='Page_214'>214</span>For a long time neither spoke. Maria Vasilievna -was thinking of her school, and the coming examinations -for which she was preparing four boys and one -girl. And just as her mind was full of these examinations, -a landholder named Khanoff drove up with -a four-in-hand harnessed to an open carriage. It was -he who had held the examination in her school the -year before. As he drove up alongside her cart he -recognised her, bowed, and exclaimed:</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Good morning! Are you on your way home, may -I ask?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Khanoff was a man of forty or thereabouts. His -expression was listless and blasé, and he had already -begun to age perceptibly, but he was handsome still -and admired by women. He lived alone on a large -estate; he had no business anywhere, and it was said -of him that he never did anything at home but walk -about and whistle, or else play chess with his old man -servant. It was also rumoured that he was a hard -drinker. Maria Vasilievna remembered that, as a -matter of fact, at the last examination even the papers -that he had brought with him had smelled of scent -and wine. Everything he had had on that day had -been new, and Maria Vasilievna had liked him very -much, and had even felt shy sitting there beside -him. She was used to receiving the visits of cold, -critical examiners, but this one did not remember a -single prayer, and did not know what questions he -ought to ask. He had been extremely considerate and -<span class='pageno' id='Page_215'>215</span>polite, and had given all the children full marks for -everything.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I am on my way to visit Bakvist” he now continued -to Maria Vasilievna. “Is it true that he is -away from home?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>They turned from the highway into a lane, -Khanoff in the lead, Simon following him. The four -horses proceeded at a foot-pace, straining to drag the -heavy carriage through the mud. Simon tacked -hither and thither across the road, first driving round -a bump, then round a puddle, and jumping down from -his seat every minute or so to give his horse a helpful -push. Maria Vasilievna continued to think about the -school, and whether the questions at the examinations -would be difficult or easy. She felt annoyed with the -board of the zemstvo, for she had been there yesterday, -and had found no one in. How badly it was managed! -Here it was two years since she had been asking to -have the school watchman discharged for loafing and -being rude to her and beating her scholars, and yet no -one had paid any heed to her request. The president -of the board was hardly ever in his office, and when he -was, would vow with tears in his eyes that he hadn’t -time to attend to her now. The school inspector came -only three times a year, and knew nothing about his -business anyway, as he had formerly been an exciseman, -and had obtained the office of inspector through -favour. The school board seldom met, and no one -ever knew where their meetings were held. The warden -<span class='pageno' id='Page_216'>216</span>was an illiterate peasant who owned a tannery, a -rough and stupid man and a close friend of the watchman’s. -In fact, the Lord only knew whom one could -turn to to have complaints remedied and wrongs put -right!</p> - -<p class='c011'>“He really is handsome!” thought the schoolteacher -glancing at Khanoff.</p> - -<p class='c011'>The road grew worse and worse. They entered a -wood. There was no possibility of turning out of the -track here, the ruts were deep and full of gurgling, -running water. Prickly twigs beat against their -faces.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“What a road, eh?” cried Khanoff laughing.</p> - -<p class='c011'>The school teacher looked at him and marvelled that -this queer fellow should be living here.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“What good do his wealth, his handsome face, and -his fine culture do him in this God-forsaken mud and -solitude?” she thought. “He has abandoned any advantage -that fate may have given him, and is enduring -the same hardships as Simon, tramping with him along -this impossible road. Why does any one live here who -could live in St. Petersburg or abroad?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>And it seemed to her that it would be worth this -rich man’s while to make a good road out of this bad -one, so that he might not have to struggle with the -mud, and be forced to see the despair written on the -faces of Simon and his coachman. But he only laughed, -and was obviously absolutely indifferent to it all, asking -for no better life than this.</p> - -<p class='c011'><span class='pageno' id='Page_217'>217</span>“He is kind and gentle and unsophisticated,” Maria -Vasilievna thought again. “He does not understand -the hardships of life any more than he knew the suitable -prayers to say at the examination. He gives -globes to the school and sincerely thinks himself a -useful man and a conspicuous benefactor of popular -education. Much they need his globes in this wilderness!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Sit tight, Vasilievna!” shouted Simon.</p> - -<p class='c011'>The cart tipped violently to one side and seemed to -be falling over. Something heavy rolled down on -Maria Vasilievna’s feet, it proved to be the purchases -she had made in the city. They were crawling up a -steep, clayey hill now. Torrents of water were rushing -noisily down on either side of the track, and seemed to -have eaten away the road bed. Surely it would be -impossible to get by! The horses began to snort. -Khanoff jumped out of his carriage and walked along -the edge of the road in his long overcoat. He felt hot.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“What a road!” he laughed again. “My carriage -will soon be smashed to bits at this rate!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“And who asked you to go driving in weather like -this?” asked Simon sternly. “Why don’t you stay at -home?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“It is tiresome staying at home, daddy. I don’t -like it.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>He looked gallant and tall walking beside old Simon, -but in spite of his grace there was an almost imperceptible -something about his walk that betrayed a -<span class='pageno' id='Page_218'>218</span>being already rotten at the core, weak, and nearing -his downfall. And the air in the woods suddenly -seemed to carry an odour of wine. Maria Vasilievna -shuddered, and began to feel sorry for this man who -for some unknown reason was going to his ruin. She -thought that if she were his wife or his sister she would -gladly give up her whole life to rescuing him from disaster. -His wife? Alas! He lived alone on his great -estate, and she lived alone in a forlorn little village, -and yet the very idea that they might one day become -intimate and equal seemed to her impossible and absurd. -Life was like that! And, at bottom, all human -relationships and all life were so incomprehensible -that if you thought about them at all dread would -overwhelm you and your heart would stop beating.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“And how incomprehensible it is, too,” she thought, -“that God should give such beauty and charm and -such kind, melancholy eyes to weak, unhappy, useless -people, and make every one like them so!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I turn off to the right here,” Khanoff said, getting -into his carriage. “Farewell! A pleasant journey to -you!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>And once more Maria Vasilievna’s thoughts turned -to her scholars, and the coming examinations, and the -watchman, and the school board, until a gust of wind -from the right bringing her the rumbling of the departing -carriage, other reveries mingled with these -thoughts, and she longed to dream of handsome eyes -and love and the happiness that would never be hers.</p> - -<p class='c011'><span class='pageno' id='Page_219'>219</span>She, a wife! Alas, how cold her little room was -early in the morning! No one ever lit her stove, because -the watchman was always away somewhere. Her -pupils came at daybreak, with a great noise, bringing in -with them mud and snow, and everything was so bleak -and so uncomfortable in her little quarters of one -small bedroom which also served as a kitchen! Her -head ached every day when school was over. She -was obliged to collect money from her scholars to buy -wood and pay the watchman, and then to give it to -that fat, insolent peasant, the warden, and beg him for -mercy’s sake to send her a load of wood. And at night -she would dream of examinations and peasants and -snow drifts. This life had aged and hardened her, and -she had grown plain and angular and awkward, as if -lead had been emptied into her veins. She was afraid -of everything, and never dared to sit down in the -presence of the warden or a member of the school -board. If she mentioned any one of them in his absence, -she always spoke of him respectfully as “his -Honour.” No one found her attractive; her life was -spent without love, without friendship, without acquaintances -who interested her. What a terrible calamity -it would be were she, in her situation, to fall -in love!</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Sit tight, Vasilievna!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Once more they were crawling up a steep hill.</p> - -<p class='c011'>She had felt no call to be a teacher; want had forced -her to be one. She never thought about her mission -<span class='pageno' id='Page_220'>220</span>in life or the value of education; the most important -things to her were, not her scholars nor their instruction, -but the examinations. And how could she think -of a mission, and of the value of education? School -teachers, and poor doctors, and apothecaries, struggling -with their heavy labours, have not even the consolation -of thinking that they are advancing an ideal, -and helping mankind. Their heads are too full of -thoughts of their daily crust of bread, their wood, -the bad roads, and their sicknesses for that. Their life -is tedious and hard. Only those stand it for any -length of time who are silent beasts of burden, like -Maria Vasilievna. Those who are sensitive and impetuous -and nervous, and who talk of their mission in -life and of advancing a great ideal, soon become exhausted -and give up the fight.</p> - -<p class='c011'>To find a dryer, shorter road, Simon sometimes -struck across a meadow or drove through a back-yard, -but in some places the peasants would not let him -pass, in others the land belonged to a priest; here the -road was blocked, there Ivan Ionoff had bought a -piece of land from his master and surrounded it with -a ditch. In such cases they had to turn back.</p> - -<p class='c011'>They arrived at Nijni Gorodishe. In the snowy, -grimy yard around the tavern stood rows of wagons -laden with huge flasks of oil of vitriol. A great crowd -of carriers had assembled in the tavern, and the air -reeked of vodka, tobacco, and sheepskin coats. Loud -talk filled the room, and the door with its weight and -pulley banged incessantly. In the tap room behind -<span class='pageno' id='Page_221'>221</span>a partition some one was playing on the concertina -without a moment’s pause. Maria Vasilievna sat -down to her tea, while at a near-by table a group of -peasants saturated with tea and the heat of the room -were drinking vodka and beer.</p> - -<p class='c011'>A confused babel filled the room.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Did you hear that, Kuzma? Ha! Ha! What’s -that? By God! Ivan Dementitch, you’ll catch it for -that! Look, brother!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>A small, black-bearded, pock-marked peasant, who -had been drunk for a long time, gave an exclamation -of surprise and swore an ugly oath.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“What do you mean by swearing, you!” shouted -Simon angrily from where he sat, far away at the -other end of the room. “Can’t you see there’s a lady -here?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“A lady!” mocked some one from another corner.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“You pig, you!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I didn’t mean to do it—” faltered the little peasant -with embarrassment. “Excuse me! My money is as -good here as hers. How do you do?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“How do you do?” answered the school teacher.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Very well, thank you kindly.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Maria Vasilievna enjoyed her tea, and grew as -flushed as the peasants. Her thoughts were once -more running on the watchman and the wood.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Look there, brother!” she heard a voice at the -next table cry. “There’s the schoolmarm from Viasovia! -I know her! She’s a nice lady.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Yes, she’s a nice lady.”</p> - -<p class='c011'><span class='pageno' id='Page_222'>222</span>The door banged, men came and went. Maria Vasilievna -sat absorbed in the same thoughts that had occupied -her before, and the concertina behind the -partition never ceased making music for an instant. -Patches of sunlight that had lain on the floor when -she had come in had moved up to the counter, then -to the walls, and now had finally disappeared. So it -was afternoon. The carriers at the table next to hers -rose and prepared to leave. The little peasant went -up to Maria Vasilievna swaying slightly, and held out -his hand. The others followed him; all shook hands -with the school teacher, and went out one by one. -The door banged and whined nine times.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Get ready, Vasilievna!” Simon cried.</p> - -<p class='c011'>They started again, still at a walk.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“A little school was built here in Nijni Gorodishe, -not long ago,” said Simon, looking back. “Some of -the people sinned greatly.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“In what way?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“It seems the president of the school board grabbed -one thousand roubles, and the warden another thousand, -and the teacher five hundred.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“A school always costs several thousand roubles. -It is very wrong to repeat scandal, daddy. What you -have just told me is nonsense.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I don’t know anything about it. I only tell you -what people say.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>It was clear, however, that Simon did not believe -the school teacher. None of the peasants believed her. -<span class='pageno' id='Page_223'>223</span>They all thought that her salary was too large (she -got twenty roubles a month, and they thought that -five would have been plenty), and they also believed -that most of the money which she collected from the -children for wood she pocketed herself. The warden -thought as all the other peasants did, and made a -little out of the wood himself, besides receiving secret -pay from the peasants unknown to the authorities.</p> - -<p class='c011'>But now, thank goodness, they had finally passed -through the last of the woods, and from here on their -road would lie through flat fields all the way to Viasovia. -Only a few miles more to go, and then they -would cross the river, and then the railway track, and -then they would be at home.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Where are you going, Simon?” asked Maria Vasilievna. -“Take the right-hand road across the bridge!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“What’s that? We can cross here. It isn’t very -deep.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Don’t let the horse drown!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“What’s that?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“There is Khanoff crossing the bridge!” cried Maria -Vasilievna, catching sight of a carriage and four in the -distance at their right. “Isn’t that he?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“That’s him all right. He must have found Bakvist -away. My goodness, what a donkey to drive all the -way round when this road is two miles shorter!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>They plunged into the river. In summer time it was -a tiny stream, in late spring it dwindled rapidly to a -fordable river after the freshets, and by August it was -<span class='pageno' id='Page_224'>224</span>generally dry, but during flood time it was a torrent of -swift, cold, turbid water some fifty feet wide. Fresh -wheel tracks were visible now on the bank leading -down to the water’s edge; some one, then, must have -crossed here.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Get up!” cried Simon, madly jerking the reins -and flapping his arms like a pair of wings. “Get up!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>The horse waded into the stream up to his belly, -stopped, and then plunged on again, throwing his whole -weight into the collar. Maria Vasilievna felt a sharp -wave of cold water lap her feet.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Go on!” she cried, rising in her seat. “Go on!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>They drove out on the opposite bank.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Well, of all things! My goodness!” muttered -Simon. “What a worthless lot those zemstvo people -are——”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Maria Vasilievna’s goloshes and shoes were full of -water, and the bottom of her dress and coat and one -of her sleeves were soaked and dripping. Her sugar -and flour were wet through, and this was harder to -bear than all the rest. In her despair she could only -wave her arms, and cry:</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Oh, Simon, Simon! How stupid you are, -really——”</p> - -<p class='c011'>The gate was down when they reached the railway -crossing, an express train was leaving the station. -They stood and waited for the train to go by, and -Maria Vasilievna shivered with cold from head to -foot.</p> - -<p class='c011'><span class='pageno' id='Page_225'>225</span>Viasovia was already in sight; there was the school -with its green roof, and there stood the church with its -blazing crosses reflecting the rays of the setting sun. -The windows of the station were flashing, too, and a -cloud of rosy steam was rising from the engine. Everything -seemed to the school teacher to be shivering with -cold.</p> - -<p class='c011'>At last the train appeared. Its windows were blazing -like the crosses on the church, and their brilliance -was dazzling. A lady was standing on the platform -of one of the first-class carriages. One glance at her -as she slipped past, and Maria Vasilievna thought: -“My mother!” What a resemblance there was! -There was her mother’s thick and luxuriant hair; -there were her forehead and the poise of her head. -For the first time in all these thirty years Maria Vasilievna -saw in imagination her mother, her father, and -her brother in their apartment in Moscow, saw everything -down to the least detail, even to the globe of -goldfish in the sitting-room. She heard the strains of -a piano, and the sound of her father’s voice, and saw -herself young and pretty and gaily dressed, in a warm, -brightly lighted room with her family about her. Great -joy and happiness suddenly welled up in her heart, -and she pressed her hands to her temples in rapture, -crying softly with a note of deep entreaty in her voice:</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Mother!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Then she wept, she could not have said why. At -that moment Khanoff drove up with his four-in-hand, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_226'>226</span>and when she saw him she smiled and nodded to him -as if he and she were near and dear to each other, -for she was conjuring up in her fancy a felicity that -could never be hers. The sky, the trees, and the windows -of the houses seemed to be reflecting her happiness -and rejoicing with her. No! Her mother and father -had not died; she had never been a school teacher; all -that had been a long, strange, painful dream, and now -she was awake.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Vasilievna! Sit down!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>And in a breath everything vanished. The gate -slowly rose. Shivering and numb with cold Maria -Vasilievna sat down in the cart again. The four-in-hand -crossed the track and Simon followed. The -watchman at the crossing took off his cap as they -drove by.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Here is Viasovia! The journey is over!”</p> - -<div> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_227'>227</span> - <h3 class='c009'>THE PRIVY COUNCILLOR</h3> -</div> - -<p class='drop-capa0_0_6 c010'>Early in April in the year 1870, my mother, Klavdia -Arhipovna, the widow of a lieutenant, received -a letter from her brother Ivan, a privy councillor in -St. Petersburg. Among other things the letter said:</p> - -<p class='c011'>“An affection of the liver obliges me to spend every -summer abroad, but as I have no funds this year with -which to go to Marienbad, it is very probable that I -may spend the coming summer with you at Kotchneffka, -dear sister——”</p> - -<p class='c011'>My mother turned pale and trembled from head to -foot as she perused this epistle, and an expression both -smiling and tearful came into her face. She began to -weep and to laugh. This conflict between laughter and -tears always reminds me of the glitter and shimmer -that follow when water is spilled on a brightly burning -candle. Having read the letter through twice, my -mother summoned her whole household together, and -in a voice quivering with excitement began explaining -to them that there had been four brothers in the -Gundasoff family; one had died when he was a baby; a -second had been a soldier, and had also died; a third, -she meant no offence to him in saying it, had become -an actor, and a fourth——</p> - -<p class='c011'><span class='pageno' id='Page_228'>228</span>“The fourth brother is not of our world,” sobbed -my mother. “He is my own brother, we grew up together, -and yet I am trembling all over at the thought -of him. He is a privy councillor, a general! How -can I meet my darling? What can a poor, uneducated -woman like me find to talk to him about? It is fifteen -years since I saw him last. Andrusha, darling!” cried -my mother turning to me. “Rejoice little stupid, it is -for your sake that God is sending him here!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>When we had all heard the history of the Gundasoff -family down to the smallest detail, there arose an uproar -on the farm such as I had not been accustomed -to hearing except before weddings. Only the vault of -heaven, and the water in the river escaped; everything -else was subjected to a process of cleaning, scrubbing, -and painting. If the sky had been smaller and lower, -and the river had not been so swift, they too would -have been scalded with boiling water and polished with -cloths. The walls were white as snow already, but they -were whitewashed again. The floors shone and -glistened, but they were scrubbed every day. Bobtail, -the cat (so-called because I had chopped off a good -portion of his tail with a carving-knife when I was a -baby), was taken from the house into the kitchen and -put in charge of Anfisa. Fedia was told that if the -dogs came anywhere near the front porch, “God would -punish him.” But nothing caught it so cruelly as did -the unfortunate sofas and carpets and chairs! Never -before had they been so unmercifully beaten with sticks -<span class='pageno' id='Page_229'>229</span>as they now were in expectation of our guest’s arrival. -Hearing the blows, my doves fluttered anxiously about, -and at last flew away straight up into the very sky.</p> - -<p class='c011'>From Novostroevka came Spiridon, the only tailor -in the district who ventured to sew for the gentry. -He was a sober, hard-working, intelligent man, not -without some imagination and feeling for the plastic -arts, but he sewed abominably nevertheless. His -doubts always spoiled everything, for the idea that -his clothes were not fashionable enough made him cut -everything over five times at least. He used to go all -the way to the city on foot on purpose to see how the -young dandies were dressed, and then decked us in -costumes that even a caricaturist would have called -an exaggeration and a joke. We sported impossibly -tight trousers, and coats so short that we always felt -embarrassed whenever any young ladies were present.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Spiridon slowly took my measurements. He measured -me lengthways and crossways as if he were going -to fit me with barrel hoops, then wrote at length upon -a sheet of paper with a very thick pencil, and at last -marked his yardstick from end to end with little -triangular notches. Having finished with me, he began -upon my tutor Gregory Pobedimski. This unforgettable -tutor of mine was just at the age when men -anxiously watch the growth of their moustaches, and -are critical about their attire, so that you may imagine -with what holy terror Spiridon approached his person! -Pobedimski was made to throw his head back, and -<span class='pageno' id='Page_230'>230</span>spread himself apart like a V upside down, now raising, -now lowering his arms. Spiridon measured him -several times, circling about him as a love-sick pigeon -circles about his mate; then he fell down on one knee, -and bent himself into the form of a hook. My mother, -weary and worn with all this bustle and faint from the -heat of her irons in the laundry, said as she watched -all these endless proceedings:</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Take care, Spiridon, God will call you to account -if you spoil the cloth! And you will be an unlucky -man if you don’t hit the mark this time!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>My mother’s words first threw Spiridon into a -sweat and then into a fever, for he was very sure that -he would not hit the mark. He asked one rouble and -twenty copecks for making my suit, and two roubles -for making my tutor’s. The cloth, the buttons, and -the linings were supplied by us. This cannot but -seem cheap enough, especially when you consider that -Novostroevka was six miles away, and that he came -to try on the clothes four different times. At these -fittings, as we pulled on our tight trousers and coats -all streaked with white basting threads, my mother -would look at our clothes, knit her brows with dissatisfaction -and exclaim:</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Goodness knows we have queer fashions these -days! I am almost ashamed to look at you! If my -brother did not live in St. Petersburg I declare I -wouldn’t have you dressed in the fashion!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Spiridon, delighted that the fashions and not he -<span class='pageno' id='Page_231'>231</span>were catching the blame, would shrug his shoulders, -and sigh, as much as to say:</p> - -<p class='c011'>“There is nothing to be done about it; it is the -spirit of the times!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>The trepidation with which we awaited the arrival -of our guest can only be compared to the excitement -that prevails among spiritualists when they are awaiting -the appearance of a spirit. My mother had a -headache, and burst into tears every minute. I lost my -appetite and my sleep, and did not study my lessons. -Even in my dreams I was devoured by my longing to -see a general, a man with epaulettes, an embroidered -collar reaching to his ears, and a naked sword in his -hand; in short, a person exactly like the general I saw -hanging over the sofa in our drawing-room glaring so -balefully with his terrible black eyes at any one who -ventured to look at him. Pobedimski alone felt at -ease. He neither trembled nor rejoiced, and all he said -as he listened to my mother’s stories of the Gundasoff -family was:</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Yes, it will be pleasant to talk with somebody new.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>My tutor was considered a very exceptional person -on our farm. He was a young man of twenty or thereabouts, -pimply, ragged, with a low forehead, and an -uncommonly long nose. In fact, this nose of his was -so long that if he wanted to look at anything closely -he had to put his head on one side like a bird. He had -gone through the six grades of the high-school, and -had then entered the Veterinary College, from which -<span class='pageno' id='Page_232'>232</span>he had been expelled in less than six months. By -carefully concealing the reason of his expulsion, my -tutor gave every one who wished it an opportunity for -considering him a much-enduring and rather mysterious -person. He talked little, and when he did it was -always on learned subjects; he ate meat on fast-days, -and looked upon the life about him in a high and -mighty, contemptuous fashion, which, however, did -not prevent him from accepting presents from my -mother in the shape of suits of clothes, or from painting -funny faces with red teeth on my kites. My mother -did not like him on account of his “pride,” but she -had a deep respect for his learning.</p> - -<p class='c011'>We had not long to wait for our guest. Early in -May two wagons piled with huge trunks arrived from -the station. These trunks looked so majestic that the -coachman unconsciously took off his hat as he unloaded -them from the wagons.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“They must be full of uniforms and gunpowder!” -thought I.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Why gunpowder? Probably because in my mind -the idea of a general was closely connected with powder -and cannon.</p> - -<p class='c011'>When my nurse woke me on the morning of the -tenth of May, she announced in a whisper that my -“uncle had come!” I dressed hastily, washing anyhow -and forgetting my prayers, and scampered out -of my room. In the hall I ran straight into a tall, -stout gentleman with fashionable side-whiskers and -<span class='pageno' id='Page_233'>233</span>an elegant overcoat. Swooning with horror, I drew -myself up before him, and remembering the ceremonial -taught me by my mother, I bowed deeply and attempted -to kiss his hand. But the gentleman would -not give me his hand to kiss, and stated that he was -not my uncle, but only Peter, my uncle’s valet. The -sight of this Peter, dressed a great deal better than -Pobedimski and myself, filled me with the profoundest -astonishment which, to tell the truth, has not left me -to this day. Is it possible that such grave, respectable -men as he, with such stern, intelligent faces can be -servants? Why should they be?</p> - -<p class='c011'>Peter told me that my uncle and mother were in -the garden, and I rushed thither as fast as my legs -could carry me.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Not knowing the history of the Gundasoff family -and my uncle’s rank, Nature felt a great deal freer and -less constrained than I did. There was an activity -in the garden such as one only sees at a country -fair. Countless magpies were cleaving the air and -hopping along the garden paths, chasing the mayflies -with noisy cries. A flock of crows was swarming in -the lilac bushes that thrust their delicate, fragrant -blossoms into my very face. From all sides came the -songs of orioles and the pipings of finches and blackbirds. -At any other time I should have darted off -after the grasshoppers or thrown stones at a crow that -was sitting on a low haycock under a wasp’s nest turning -its blunt bill from side to side. But this was no -<span class='pageno' id='Page_234'>234</span>time for play. My heart was hammering and shivers -were running up and down my back. I was about to -see a man with epaulettes, a naked sword, and terrible -eyes!</p> - -<p class='c011'>Imagine, then, my disappointment! A slender little -dandy in a white silk shirt and a white military -cap was walking through the garden at my mother’s -side. Every now and then he would run on ahead -and, with his hands in his pockets and his head -thrown back, he looked like quite a young man. -There was so much life and vivacity in his whole -figure that the treachery of old age only became apparent -to me as I approached from behind, and, peeping -under his cap, saw the white hairs glistening beneath -the brim. Instead of a stolid, autocratic gravity -I saw in him an almost boyish nimbleness, and instead -of a collar to the ears he wore an ordinary light blue -necktie. My mother and uncle were walking up and -down the path, chatting together. I crept up softly -from behind and waited for one of them to turn round -and see me.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“What an enchanting place you have here, Klavdia!” -my uncle exclaimed. “How sweet and lovely -it all is! If I had known how beautiful it was nothing -could have taken me abroad all these years!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>My uncle stooped abruptly, and put his nose to a -tulip. Everything he saw was a source of curiosity -and delight to him, as if he had never seen a garden, -or a sunny day before in his life. The strange little -<span class='pageno' id='Page_235'>235</span>man moved as if on springs and chattered incessantly, -not giving my mother a chance to put in a word. All -at once Pobedimski stepped out from behind an elder -bush at a turn of the path. His appearance was so -unexpected that my uncle started and fell back a step. -My tutor was dressed in his gala overcoat with a cape, -in which he looked exactly like a windmill, especially -from behind. His mien was majestic and triumphant. -With his hat held close to his chest in Spanish fashion -he took a step toward my uncle, and bowed forward -and slightly sideways like a marquis in a melodrama.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I have the honour to present myself to your worshipful -highness,” he said in a loud voice. “I am a -pedagogue, the instructor of your nephew, and a former -student at the Veterinary College. My name is -Gregory Pobedimski, Esquire.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>My tutor’s beautiful manners pleased my mother -immensely. She smiled and fluttered with the sweet -expectation of his next brilliant sally, but my tutor -was waiting for my uncle to respond to his lofty bearing -with something equally lofty, and thought that -two fingers would be offered him with a “h’m—” befitting -a general. In consequence, he lost all his presence -of mind and was completely embarrassed when my -uncle smiled cordially and heartily pressed his hand. -Murmuring some incoherent phrases, my tutor coughed -and retired.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Ha! Ha! Isn’t that beautiful?” laughed my -uncle. “Look at him. He has put on his wings, and -<span class='pageno' id='Page_236'>236</span>is thinking what a clever fellow he is! I like that, -upon my word and honour, I do! What youthful -aplomb, what life there is in those silly wings! And -who is this boy?” he asked, suddenly turning round -and catching sight of me.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“This is my little Andrusha,” said my mother -blushing. “The comfort of my life.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>I put my foot behind me and bowed deeply.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“A fine little fellow, a fine little fellow!” murmured -my uncle taking his hand away from my lips, -and patting my head. “So your name is Andrusha? -Well, well—yes—upon my word and honour. Do you -go to school?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>My mother began to enumerate my triumphs of -learning and behaviour, adding to them and exaggerating -as all mothers do, while I walked at my uncle’s -side and did not cease from bowing deeply according -to the ceremonial we had agreed upon. When my -mother began hinting that with my remarkable attainments -it would not be amiss for me to enter the -military academy at the expense of the state, and -when, according to our plan, I should have burst into -tears and implored the patronage of my uncle, that -relative suddenly stopped short and threw up his -hands in astonishment.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Heavens and earth, who is that?” he exclaimed.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Down the garden path came Tatiana, the wife of -our manager, Theodore Petrovitch. She was carrying -a white starched skirt and a long ironing board, and -<span class='pageno' id='Page_237'>237</span>as she passed us she blushed and glanced shyly at our -guest from under her long lashes.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Worse and worse!” said my uncle under his breath, -looking tenderly after her. “Why, sister, one can’t -take a step here without encountering some surprise, -upon my word and honour!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Not every one would have called Tatiana beautiful. -She was a small, plump woman of twenty, graceful, -black-eyed, and always rosy and sweet, but in all her -face and figure there was not one strong feature, not -one bold line for the eye to rest upon. It was as if -in making her Nature had lacked confidence and inspiration. -Tatiana was shy and timid and well behaved. -She glided quietly along, saying little, seldom -laughing; her life was as even and smooth as her face -and her neatly brushed hair. My uncle half-closed -his eyes and smiled as he watched her. My mother -looked intently at his smiling face and grew serious.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Oh, brother, why have you never married?” she -sighed.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I have never married because——”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Why not?” asked my mother softly.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“What shall I say? Because things did not turn -out that way. When I was young I worked too hard -to have time for enjoying life, and then, when I wanted -to live—behold! I had put fifty years behind me! -I was too slow. However, this is a tedious subject -for conversation!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>My mother and uncle sighed simultaneously, and -<span class='pageno' id='Page_238'>238</span>walked on together while I stayed behind, and ran -to find my tutor in order to share my impressions -with him. Pobedimski was standing in the middle of -the courtyard gazing majestically at the sky.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“He is obviously an enlightened man,” he said, -wagging his head. “I hope we shall become friends.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>An hour later my mother came to us.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Oh, boys, I’m in terrible trouble!” she began with -a sigh. “My brother has brought a valet with him, -you know, and he is not the sort of man, heaven help -him, whom one can put in the hall or the kitchen, he -absolutely must have a room of his own. Look here, -my children, couldn’t you move into the wing with -Theodore and give the valet your room?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>We answered that we should be delighted to do so, -for, we thought, life in the wing would be much freer -than in the house under the eyes of my mother.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Yes, I’m terribly worried!” my mother continued. -“My brother says he doesn’t want to have his dinner -at noon, but at seven as they do in the city. I am -almost distracted. Why, by seven the dinner in the -stove will be burned to a crisp. The truth is men know -nothing about housekeeping, even if they are very -clever. Oh, misery me, I shall have to have two dinners -cooked every day! You must have yours at -noon as you always do, children, and let the old lady -wait until seven for her brother.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>My mother breathed a profound sigh, told me to -please my uncle whom God had brought here especially -<span class='pageno' id='Page_239'>239</span>for my benefit, and ran into the kitchen. Pobedimski -and I moved into the wing that very same day. -We were put in a passage between the hall and the -manager’s bedroom.</p> - -<p class='c011'>In spite of my uncle’s arrival and our change of -quarters, our days continued to trickle by in their -usual way, more drowsily and monotonously than we -had expected. We were excused from our lessons “because -of our guest.” Pobedimski, who never read or -did anything, now spent most of his time sitting on his -bed absorbed in thought, with his long nose in the air. -Every now and then he would get up, try on his new -suit, sit down again, and continue his meditations. -One thing only disturbed him, and that was the flies, -whom he slapped unmercifully with the palms of his -hands. After dinner he would generally “rest,” -causing keen anguish to the whole household by his -snores. I played in the garden from morning till night, -or else sat in my room making kites. During the first -two or three weeks we saw little of my uncle. He -stayed in his room and worked for days on end, heeding -neither the flies nor the heat.</p> - -<p class='c011'>His extraordinary power of sitting as if glued to -his desk appeared to us something in the nature of an -inexplicable trick. To lazybones like ourselves, who -did not know the meaning of systematic work, his industry -appeared positively miraculous. Getting up -at nine, he would sit down at his desk, and not move -until dinner time. After dinner he would go to work -<span class='pageno' id='Page_240'>240</span>once more, and work until late at night. Whenever -I peeped into his room through the keyhole I invariably -saw the same scene. My uncle would be -sitting at his desk and working. His work consisted -of writing with one hand while turning over the pages -of a book with the other, and strange as it may seem, -he constantly wriggled all over, swinging one foot like -a pendulum, whistling and nodding his head in time -to the music he made. His appearance at these times -was extraordinarily frivolous and careless, more as if -he were playing at naughts and crosses than working. -Each time I looked in I saw him wearing a dashing -little coat and a dandified necktie, and each time, even -through the keyhole, I could smell a sweet feminine -perfume. He emerged from his room only to dine, and -then ate scarcely anything.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I can’t understand my brother,” my mother complained. -“Every day I have a turkey or some pigeons -killed especially for him, and stew some fruits for him -myself, and yet he drinks a little bouillon and eats a -piece of meat no larger than my finger, after which he -leaves the table at once. If I beg him to eat more he -comes back and drinks a little milk. What is there -in milk? It is slop, nothing more! He will die of -eating that kind of food! If I try to persuade him to -change his ways, he only laughs and makes a joke of -it! No, children, our fare doesn’t suit him!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Our evenings passed much more pleasantly than -our days. As a rule the setting sun and the long -<span class='pageno' id='Page_241'>241</span>shadows falling across the courtyard found Tatiana, -Pobedimski, and me seated on the porch of our wing. -We did not speak until darkness fell—what could we -talk about when everything had already been said? -There had been one novelty, my uncle’s arrival, but -that theme had soon become exhausted as well as the -others. My tutor constantly kept his eyes fixed on -Tatiana’s face and fetched one deep sigh after another. -At that time I did not understand the meaning of those -sighs, and did not seek to inquire into their cause, but -they explain much to me now.</p> - -<p class='c011'>When the shadows had merged into thick, black -darkness Theodore would come home from the hunt -or the field. This Theodore seemed to me to be a wild -and even fearsome man. He was the son of a Russianised -gipsy, and was swarthy and dark with large black -eyes and a tangled curly beard, and he was never spoken -of by our peasants as anything but “the demon.” -There was a great deal of the gipsy in him beside his -appearance. For instance, he never could stay at -home, and would vanish for days at a time, hunting in -the forest or roaming in the fields. He was gloomy, -passionate, taciturn, and fearless, and could never be -brought to acknowledge the authority of any one. He -spoke gruffly to my mother, addressed me familiarly -as “thou,” and treated Pobedimski’s learning with -contempt, but we forgave him everything, because -we considered that he had a morbidly excitable nature. -My mother liked him in spite of his gipsy ways, for -<span class='pageno' id='Page_242'>242</span>he was ideally honest and hard working. He loved -his Tatiana passionately, in gipsy style, but his love -was a thing of gloom, almost of suffering. He never -caressed her in our presence, and only stared at her -fiercely with his mouth all awry.</p> - -<p class='c011'>On coming back from the fields he would furiously -slam down his gun on the floor of his room, and come -out on the porch to take his seat beside his wife. -When he had rested a while he would ask her a few -questions about the housekeeping, and then relapse -into silence.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Let’s sing!” I used to suggest.</p> - -<p class='c011'>My tutor would tune his guitar, and in a thick, -deaconly voice would drone: “In Level Valleys.” We -would all chime in. My tutor sang bass, Theodore an -almost inaudible tenor, and I contralto in tune with -Tatiana.</p> - -<p class='c011'>When all the sky was strewn with stars, and the -frogs’ voices were hushed, our supper would be brought -to us from the kitchen, and we would go into the house -and fall to. My tutor and the gipsy ate ravenously, -munching so loudly that it was hard to tell whether -the noise came from the bones they were crunching or -the cracking of their jaws. Tatiana and I, on the -contrary, could scarcely manage to finish our portions. -After supper our wing of the house would sink -into deep slumber.</p> - -<p class='c011'>One evening at the end of May we were sitting on -the porch waiting for our supper. Suddenly a shadow -<span class='pageno' id='Page_243'>243</span>flitted toward us, and Gundasoff appeared as if he had -sprung from the ground. He stared at us for a long -time, and then waved his hands and laughed gaily.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“How idyllic!” he cried. “Singing and dreaming -under the moon! It is beautiful, upon my word and -honour! May I sit here and dream with you?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>We silently looked at one another. My uncle sat -down on the lowest step, yawned, and gazed at the -sky. Pobedimski, who had long been intending to -have a conversation with this “new person,” was delighted -at the opportunity that now presented itself, -and was the first to break the silence. He had only -one subject for learned discussions, and that was the -epizooty. It sometimes happens that, out of a crowd -of thousands of persons with whom one is thrown, one -face alone remains fixed in the memory, and so it was -with Pobedimski. Out of all he had learned at the -Veterinary College he remembered only one sentence:</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Epizooty is the cause of much loss to the peasant -farmers. Every community should join hands with -the state in fighting this disease.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Before saying this to Gundasoff, my tutor cleared -his throat three times, and excitedly wrapped his cape -around him. When my uncle had been informed concerning -the epizooty, he made a noise in his nose that -sounded like a laugh.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“How charming, upon my word and honour!” he -said under his breath, staring at us as if we were maniacs. -<span class='pageno' id='Page_244'>244</span>“This is indeed life! This is real nature! Why -don’t you say something, Pelagia?” he asked of Tatiana.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Tatiana grew confused and coughed.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Go on talking, friends! Sing! Play! Don’t waste -a moment! That rascal time goes fast and waits for -no man. Upon my word and honour, old age will be -upon you before you know it. It will be too late to -enjoy life then; so come, Pelagia, don’t sit there and -say nothing!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>At this point our supper was brought from the -kitchen. My uncle went into the house with us, and -ate five curd fritters and a duck’s wing for company. -He kept his eyes fixed on us while he despatched his -supper; we all filled his heart with enthusiasm and -emotion. Whatever silliness that unforgettable tutor -of mine was guilty of, whatever Tatiana did, was lovely -and charming in his eyes. When Tatiana quietly took -her knitting into a corner after supper, his eyes never -left her little fingers, and he babbled without a moment’s -pause.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Friends, you must hurry and begin to enjoy life as -fast as you can!” he said. “For heaven’s sake, don’t -sacrifice the present to the future! You have youth -and health and passion now, and the future is deceitful—a -vapour! As soon as your twentieth year knocks -at the door, then begin to live!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Tatiana dropped a needle. My uncle jumped up, -picked it up, and handed it to her with a bow, at which -I realised for the first time that there was some one -<span class='pageno' id='Page_245'>245</span>in the world with manners more polished than Pobedimski’s.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Yes,” my uncle continued. “Fall in love! Marry! -Be silly! Silliness is much more healthy and natural -than our toiling and striving to be sensible.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>My uncle talked much and long, and I sat on a -trunk in a corner listening to him and dozing. I felt -hurt because he had never once paid the least attention -to me. He left our wing of the house at two -o’clock that night, when I had given up the battle, and -sunk into profound slumber.</p> - -<p class='c011'>From that time on my uncle came to us every evening. -He sang with us and sat with us each night until -two o’clock, chatting without end always of the same -thing. He ceased his evening and nocturnal labours, -and by the end of July, when the privy councillor had -learned to eat my mother’s turkeys and stewed fruits, -his daytime toil was also abandoned. My uncle had -torn himself away from his desk and had entered into -“real life.” By day he walked about the garden whistling -and keeping the workmen from their work by -making them tell him stories. If he caught sight of -Tatiana he would run up to her, and, if she were carrying -anything, would offer to carry it for her, which -always embarrassed her dreadfully.</p> - -<p class='c011'>The farther summer advanced toward autumn the -more absent-minded and frivolous and lively my -uncle became. Pobedimski lost all his illusions about -him.</p> - -<p class='c011'><span class='pageno' id='Page_246'>246</span>“He is too one-sided,” he used to say. “Nothing -about him shows that he stands on the highest rung of -the official hierarchic ladder. He can’t even talk -properly. He says ‘upon my word and honour’ after -every word. No, I don’t like him!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>A distinct change came over my tutor and Theodore -from the time that my uncle began to visit us in our -wing. Theodore stopped hunting and began to come -home early. He grew more silent and stared more -ferociously than ever at his wife. My tutor stopped -talking of the epizooty in my uncle’s presence, and -now frowned and even smiled derisively at sight of -him.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Here comes our little hop o’my thumb!” he once -growled, seeing my uncle coming toward our part of -the house.</p> - -<p class='c011'>This change in the behaviour of both men I explained -by the theory that Gundasoff had hurt their -feelings. My absent-minded uncle always confused -their names, and on the day of his departure had -not learned which was my tutor, and which was Tatiana’s -husband. Tatiana herself he sometimes called -Nastasia, sometimes Pelagia, sometimes Evdokia. Full -of affectionate enthusiasm as he was for us all, he -laughed at us and treated us as if we had been children. -All this, of course, might easily have offended the -young men. But, as I now see, this was not a question -of lacerated feelings; sentiments much more delicate -were involved.</p> - -<p class='c011'><span class='pageno' id='Page_247'>247</span>One night, I remember, I was sitting on the trunk -contending with my longing for sleep. A heavy glue -seemed to have fallen on my eyelids, and my body was -drooping sideways, exhausted by a long day’s playing, -but I tried to conquer my sleepiness, for I wanted to see -what was going on. It was nearly midnight. Gentle, -rosy, and meek as ever, Tatiana was sitting at a little -table sewing a shirt for her husband. From one corner -of the room Theodore was staring sternly and gloomily -at her, in another corner sat Pobedimski snorting -angrily, his head half buried in his high coat collar. -My uncle was walking up and down plunged in thought. -Silence reigned, broken only by the rustling of the linen -in Tatiana’s hands. Suddenly my uncle stopped in -front of Tatiana, and said:</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Oh, you are all so young and fresh and good, and -you live so peacefully in this quiet place that I envy -you! I have grown so fond of this life of yours that, -upon my honour, my heart aches when I remember -that some day I shall have to leave it all.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Sleep closed my eyes and I heard no more. I was -awakened by a bang, and saw my uncle standing in -front of Tatiana, looking at her with emotion. His -cheeks were burning.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“My life is over and I have not lived,” he was saying. -“Your young face reminds me of my lost youth, -and I should be happy to sit here looking at you until -I died. I should like to take you with me to St. Petersburg.”</p> - -<p class='c011'><span class='pageno' id='Page_248'>248</span>“Why?” demanded Theodore in a hoarse voice.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I should like to put you under a glass case on my -desk; I should delight in contemplating you, and showing -you to my friends. Do you know, Pelagia, that -we don’t have people like you where I live? We have -wealth and fame and sometimes beauty, but we have -none of this natural life and this wholesome peacefulness——”</p> - -<p class='c011'>My uncle sat down in front of Tatiana and took -her hand.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“So you won’t come with me to St. Petersburg?” -he laughed. “Then at least let me take this hand away -with me, this lovely little hand! You won’t? Very -well then, little miser, at least allow me to kiss it!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>I heard a chair crack. Theodore sprang to his feet -and strode toward his wife with a heavy, measured -tread. His face was ashy grey and quivering. He -raised his arm and brought his fist down on the table -with all his might, saying in a muffled voice:</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I won’t allow it!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>At the same moment Pobedimski jumped out of -his chair, and with a face as pale and angry as the -other’s, he also advanced toward Tatiana and banged -the table with his fist.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I—I won’t allow it!” he cried.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“What? What’s the matter,” asked my uncle in -astonishment.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I won’t allow it!” Theodore repeated, with another -blow on the table.</p> - -<p class='c011'><span class='pageno' id='Page_249'>249</span>My uncle jumped up and abjectly blinked his eyes. -He wanted to say something, but surprise and fright -held him tongue-tied. He gave an embarrassed smile -and pattered out of the room with short, senile steps, -leaving his hat behind him. When my startled mother -came into the room a few moments later, Theodore -and Pobedimski were still banging the table with -their fists like blacksmiths hammering an anvil, and -shouting:</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I won’t allow it!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“What has happened here?” demanded my mother. -“Why has my brother fainted? What is the matter?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>When she saw the frightened Tatiana and her angry -husband, my mother must have guessed what had been -going on, for she sighed and shook her head.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Come, come, stop thumping the table!” she commanded. -“Stop, Theodore! And what are you hammering -for, Gregory Pobedimski? What business is -this of yours?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Pobedimski recollected himself and blushed. Theodore -glared intently first at him and then at his wife, -and began striding up and down the room. After my -mother had gone, I saw something that for a long time -after I took to be a dream. I saw Theodore seize -my tutor, raise him in the air, and fling him out of -the door.</p> - -<p class='c011'>When I awoke next morning my tutor’s bed was -empty. To my inquiries, my nurse replied in a whisper -<span class='pageno' id='Page_250'>250</span>that he had been taken to the hospital early that -morning, to be treated for a broken arm. Saddened by -this news, and recalling yesterday’s scandal, I went -out into the courtyard. The day was overcast. The -sky was covered with storm-clouds, and a strong wind -was blowing across the earth, whirling before it dust, -feathers, and scraps of paper. One could feel the approaching -rain, and bad humour was obvious in both -men and beasts. When I went back to the house I -was told to walk lightly, and not to make a noise because -my mother was ill in bed with a headache. -What could I do? I went out of the front gate, and, -sitting down on a bench, tried to make out the meaning -of what I had seen the night before. The road -from our gate wound past a blacksmith’s shop and -around a damp meadow, turning at last into the main -highway. I sat and looked at the telegraph poles -around which the dust was whirling, and at the sleepy -birds sitting on the wires until, suddenly, such ennui -overwhelmed me that I burst into tears.</p> - -<p class='c011'>A dusty char-à-banc came along the highway filled -with townspeople who were probably on a pilgrimage -to some shrine. The char-à-banc was scarcely out of -sight before a light victoria drawn by a pair of horses -appeared. Standing up in the carriage and holding -on to the coachman’s belt was the rural policeman. -To my intense surprise the victoria turned into our -road and rolled past me through the gate. While I -was still seeking an answer to the riddle of the policeman’s -<span class='pageno' id='Page_251'>251</span>appearance at our farm, a troika trotted up harnessed -to a landau, and in the landau sat the captain -of police pointing out our gate to his coachman.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“What does this mean?” I asked myself. “Pobedimski -must have complained to them about Theodore, -and they have come to fetch him away to prison.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>But the problem was not so easily solved. The policeman -and the police captain were evidently but the -forerunners of some one more important still, for five -minutes had scarcely elapsed before a coach drove -into our gate. It flashed by me so quickly that, as I -glanced in at the window, I could only catch a glimpse -of a red beard.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Lost in conjectures and foreseeing some disaster, I -ran into the house. The first person I met in the hall -was my mother. Her face was pale, and she was staring -with horror at a door from behind which came the -sound of men’s voices. Some guests had arrived unexpectedly -and at the very height of her headache.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Who is here, mamma?” I asked.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Sister!” we heard my uncle call. “Do give the -governor and the rest of us a bite to eat!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“That’s easier said than done!” whispered my -mother, collapsing with horror. “What can I give -them at such short notice? I shall be disgraced in my -declining years!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>My mother clasped her head with her hands and -hurried into the kitchen. The unexpected arrival of -the governor had turned the whole farm upside down. -<span class='pageno' id='Page_252'>252</span>A cruel holocaust immediately began to take place. -Ten hens were killed and five turkeys and eight ducks, -and in the hurly-burly the old gander was beheaded, -the ancestor of all our flock and the favourite of my -mother. The coachman and the cook seemed to -have gone mad, and frantically slaughtered every -bird they could lay hands upon without regard to its -age or breed. A pair of my precious turtle doves, as -dear to me as the gander was to my mother, were -sacrified to make a gravy. It was long before I forgave -the governor their death.</p> - -<p class='c011'>That evening, when the governor and his suite had -dined until they could eat no more, and had climbed -into their carriages and driven away, I went into the -house to look at the remains of the feast. Glancing -into the drawing-room from the hall, I saw my mother -there with my uncle. My uncle was shrugging his -shoulders, and nervously pacing round and round the -room with his hands behind his back. My mother -looked exhausted and very much thinner. She was -sitting on the sofa following my uncle’s movements -with eyes of suffering.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I beg your pardon, sister, but one cannot behave -like that! I introduced the governor to you, and you -did not even shake hands with him! You quite embarrassed -the poor man. Yes, it was most unseemly. -Simplicity is all very pretty, but even simplicity must -not be carried too far, upon my word and honour——And -then that dinner! How could you serve a dinner -<span class='pageno' id='Page_253'>253</span>like that? What was that dish-rag you gave us for -the fourth course?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“That was duck with apple sauce,” answered my -mother faintly.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Duck! Forgive me, sister, but—but—I have an -attack of indigestion! I’m ill!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>My uncle pulled a sour, tearful face and continued.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“The devil the governor had to come here to see me! -Much I wanted a visit from him! Ouch—oh, my indigestion! -I—I can’t work and I can’t sleep. I’m -completely run down. I don’t see how in the world -you can exist here in this wilderness without anything -to do! There now, the pain is commencing in the pit -of my stomach!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>My uncle knit his brows and walked up and down -more swiftly than ever.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Brother,” asked my mother softly. “How much -does it cost to go abroad?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Three thousand roubles at least!” wailed my uncle. -“I should certainly go, but where can I get the money? -I haven’t a copeck! Ouch, what a pain!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>My uncle stopped in his walk and gazed with anguish -through the window at the grey, cloudy sky.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Silence fell. My mother fixed her eyes for a long -time on the icon as if she were debating something, -and then burst into tears and exclaimed:</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I’ll let you have three thousand, brother!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Three days later the majestic trunks were sent to -the station, and behind them rolled the carriage containing -<span class='pageno' id='Page_254'>254</span>the privy councillor. He had wept as he bade -farewell to my mother, and had held her hand to his -lips for a long time. As he climbed into the carriage -his face had shone with childish joy. Radiant and -happy, he had settled himself more comfortably in his -seat, kissed his hand to my weeping mother, and suddenly -and unexpectedly turned his regard to me. The -utmost astonishment had appeared on his features——</p> - -<p class='c011'>“What boy is this?” he had asked.</p> - -<p class='c011'>As my mother had always assured me that God had -sent my uncle to us for my especial benefit, this question -gave her quite a turn. But I was not thinking -about the question. As I looked at my uncle’s happy -face I felt, for some reason, very sorry for him. I could -not endure it, and jumped up into the carriage to embrace -this man, so frivolous, so weak, and so human. -As I looked into his eyes I wanted to say something -pleasant, so I asked him:</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Uncle, were you ever in a battle?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Oh, my precious boy!” laughed my uncle kissing -me. “My precious boy, upon my word and honour! -How natural and true to life it all is, upon my word -and honour!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>The carriage moved away. I followed it with my -eyes, and long after it had disappeared I still heard -ringing in my ears that farewell, “Upon my word and -honour!”</p> - -<div> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_255'>255</span> - <h3 class='c009'>ROTHSCHILD’S FIDDLE</h3> -</div> - -<p class='drop-capa0_0_6 c010'>It was a tiny town, worse than a village, inhabited -chiefly by old people who so seldom died that it -was really vexatious. Very few coffins were needed -for the hospital and the jail; in a word, business was -bad. If Jacob Ivanoff had been a maker of coffins -in the county town, he would probably have owned a -house of his own by now, and would have been called -Mr. Ivanoff, but here in this little place he was -simply called Jacob, and for some reason his nickname -was Bronze. He lived as poorly as any common -peasant in a little old hut of one room, in which he -and Martha, and the stove, and a double bed, and the -coffins, and his joiner’s bench, and all the necessities of -housekeeping were stowed away.</p> - -<p class='c011'>The coffins made by Jacob were serviceable and -strong. For the peasants and townsfolk he made them -to fit himself and never went wrong, for, although he -was seventy years old, there was no man, not even in -the prison, any taller or stouter than he was. For the -gentry and for women he made them to measure, -using an iron yardstick for the purpose. He was always -very reluctant to take orders for children’s coffins, -and made them contemptuously without taking -<span class='pageno' id='Page_256'>256</span>any measurements at all, always saying when he was -paid for them:</p> - -<p class='c011'>“The fact is, I don’t like to be bothered with -trifles.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Beside what he received for his work as a joiner, -he added a little to his income by playing the violin. -There was a Jewish orchestra in the town that played -for weddings, led by the tinsmith Moses Shakess, who -took more than half of its earnings for himself. As -Jacob played the fiddle extremely well, especially -Russian songs, Shakess used sometimes to invite him -to play in his orchestra for the sum of fifty copecks a -day, not including the presents he might receive from -the guests. Whenever Bronze took his seat in the -orchestra, the first thing that happened to him was -that his face grew red, and the perspiration streamed -from it, for the air was always hot, and reeking of garlic -to the point of suffocation. Then his fiddle would begin -to moan, and a double bass would croak hoarsely into -his right ear, and a flute would weep into his left. This -flute was played by a gaunt, red-bearded Jew with a -network of red and blue veins on his face, who bore -the name of a famous rich man, Rothschild. This confounded -Jew always contrived to play even the merriest -tunes sadly. For no obvious reason Jacob little -by little began to conceive a feeling of hatred and -contempt for all Jews, and especially for Rothschild. -He quarrelled with him and abused him in ugly language, -and once even tried to beat him, but Rothschild -<span class='pageno' id='Page_257'>257</span>took offence at this, and cried with a fierce look:</p> - -<p class='c011'>“If I had not always respected you for your music, -I should have thrown you out of the window long -ago!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Then he burst into tears. So after that Bronze was -not often invited to play in the orchestra, and was -only called upon in cases of dire necessity, when one -of the Jews was missing.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Jacob was never in a good humour, because he always -had to endure the most terrible losses. For instance, -it was a sin to work on a Sunday or a holiday, -and Monday was always a bad day, so in that way -there were about two hundred days a year on which -he was compelled to sit with his hands folded in his lap. -That was a great loss to him. If any one in town had a -wedding without music, or if Shakess did not ask him -to play, there was another loss. The police inspector -had lain ill with consumption for two years while -Jacob impatiently waited for him to die, and then -had gone to take a cure in the city and had died there, -which of course had meant another loss of at least -ten roubles, as the coffin would have been an expensive -one lined with brocade.</p> - -<p class='c011'>The thought of his losses worried Jacob at night -more than at any other time, so he used to lay his -fiddle at his side on the bed, and when those worries -came trooping into his brain he would touch the -strings, and the fiddle would give out a sound in the -darkness, and Jacob’s heart would feel lighter.</p> - -<p class='c011'><span class='pageno' id='Page_258'>258</span>Last year on the sixth of May, Martha suddenly fell -ill. The old woman breathed with difficulty, staggered -in her walk, and felt terribly thirsty. Nevertheless, -she got up that morning, lit the stove, and even went -for the water. When evening came she went to bed. -Jacob played his fiddle all day. When it grew quite -dark, because he had nothing better to do, he took -the book in which he kept an account of his losses, and -began adding up the total for the year. They amounted -to more than a thousand roubles. He was so shaken -by this discovery, that he threw the counting board on -the floor and trampled it under foot. Then he picked -it up again and rattled it once more for a long time, -heaving as he did so sighs both deep and long. His -face grew purple, and perspiration dripped from his -brow. He was thinking that if those thousand roubles -he had lost had been in the bank then, he would have -had at least forty roubles interest by the end of the -year. So those forty roubles were still another loss! -In a word, wherever he turned he found losses and -nothing but losses.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Jacob!” cried Martha unexpectedly, “I am going -to die!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>He looked round at his wife. Her face was flushed -with fever and looked unusually joyful and bright. -Bronze was troubled, for he had been accustomed to -seeing her pale and timid and unhappy. It seemed -to him that she was actually dead, and glad to have left -this hut, and the coffins, and Jacob at last. She was -<span class='pageno' id='Page_259'>259</span>staring at the ceiling, with her lips moving as if she -saw her deliverer Death approaching and were whispering -with him.</p> - -<p class='c011'>The dawn was just breaking and the eastern sky -was glowing with a faint radiance. As he stared at -the old woman it somehow seemed to Jacob that he -had never once spoken a tender word to her or pitied -her; that he had never thought of buying her a kerchief -or of bringing her back some sweetmeats from a -wedding. On the contrary, he had shouted at her -and abused her for his losses, and had shaken his fist -at her. It was true he had never beaten her, but he -had frightened her no less, and she had been paralysed -with fear every time he had scolded her. Yes, and he -had not allowed her to drink tea because his losses were -heavy enough as it was, so she had had to be content -with hot water. Now he understood why her face -looked so strangely happy, and horror overwhelmed -him.</p> - -<p class='c011'>As soon as it was light he borrowed a horse from a -neighbour and took Martha to the hospital. As there -were not many patients, he had not to wait very long—only -about three hours. To his great satisfaction it -was not the doctor who was receiving the sick that -day, but his assistant, Maksim Nicolaitch, an old man -of whom it was said that although he quarrelled and -drank, he knew more than the doctor did.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Good morning, your Honour,” said Jacob leading -his old woman into the office. “Excuse us for intruding -<span class='pageno' id='Page_260'>260</span>upon you with our trifling affairs. As you -see, this subject has fallen ill. My life’s friend, if you -will allow me to use the expression——”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Knitting his grey eyebrows and stroking his whiskers, -the doctor’s assistant fixed his eyes on the old woman. -She was sitting all in a heap on a low stool, and with -her thin, long-nosed face and her open mouth, she -looked like a thirsty bird.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Well, well—yes—” said the doctor slowly, heaving -a sigh. “This is a case of influenza and possibly -fever; there is typhoid in town. What’s to be done? -The old woman has lived her span of years, thank God. -How old is she?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“She lacks one year of being seventy, your Honour.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Well, well, she has lived long. There must come -an end to everything.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“You are certainly right, your Honour,” said Jacob, -smiling out of politeness. “And we thank you sincerely -for your kindness, but allow me to suggest to -you that even an insect dislikes to die!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Never mind if it does!” answered the doctor, as if -the life or death of the old woman lay in his hands. -“I’ll tell you what you must do, my good man. Put -a cold bandage around her head, and give her two -of these powders a day. Now then, good-by! Bon -jour!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Jacob saw by the expression on the doctor’s face -that it was too late now for powders. He realised -clearly that Martha must die very soon, if not to-day, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_261'>261</span>then to-morrow. He touched the doctor’s elbow -gently, blinked, and whispered:</p> - -<p class='c011'>“She ought to be cupped, doctor!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I haven’t time, I haven’t time, my good man. -Take your old woman, and go in God’s name. Good-by.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Please, please, cup her, doctor!” begged Jacob. -“You know yourself that if she had a pain in her -stomach, powders and drops would do her good, but -she has a cold! The first thing to do when one catches -cold is to let some blood, doctor!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>But the doctor had already sent for the next patient, -and a woman leading a little boy came into the -room.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Go along, go along!” he cried to Jacob, frowning. -“It’s no use making a fuss!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Then at least put some leeches on her! Let me -pray to God for you for the rest of my life!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>The doctor’s temper flared up and he shouted:</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Don’t say another word to me, blockhead!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Jacob lost his temper, too, and flushed hotly, but he -said nothing and, silently taking Martha’s arm, led -her out of the office. Only when they were once more -seated in their wagon did he look fiercely and mockingly -at the hospital and say:</p> - -<p class='c011'>“They’re a pretty lot in there, they are! That doctor -would have cupped a rich man, but he even begrudged -a poor one a leech. The pig!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>When they returned to the hut, Martha stood for -<span class='pageno' id='Page_262'>262</span>nearly ten minutes supporting herself by the stove. -She felt that if she lay down Jacob would begin to talk -to her about his losses, and would scold her for lying -down and not wanting to work. Jacob contemplated -her sadly, thinking that to-morrow was St. John the -Baptist’s day, and day after to-morrow was St. Nicholas -the Wonder Worker’s day, and that the following day -would be Sunday, and the day after that would be -Monday, a bad day for work. So he would not be -able to work for four days, and as Martha would -probably die on one of these days, the coffin would -have to be made at once. He took his iron yardstick -in hand, went up to the old woman, and measured -her. Then she lay down, and he crossed himself and -went to work on the coffin.</p> - -<p class='c011'>When the task was completed Bronze put on his -spectacles and wrote in his book:</p> - -<p class='c011'>“To 1 coffin for Martha Ivanoff—2 roubles, 40 copecks.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>He sighed. All day the old woman lay silent with -closed eyes, but toward evening, when the daylight -began to fade, she suddenly called the old man to her -side.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Do you remember, Jacob?” she asked. “Do you -remember how fifty years ago God gave us a little -baby with curly golden hair? Do you remember how -you and I used to sit on the bank of the river and -sing songs under the willow tree?” Then with a -bitter smile she added: “The baby died.”</p> - -<p class='c011'><span class='pageno' id='Page_263'>263</span>Jacob racked his brains, but for the life of him he -could not recall the child or the willow tree.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“You are dreaming,” he said.</p> - -<p class='c011'>The priest came and administered the Sacrament -and Extreme Unction. Then Martha began muttering -unintelligibly, and toward morning she died.</p> - -<p class='c011'>The neighbouring old women washed her and -dressed her, and laid her in her coffin. To avoid paying -the deacon, Jacob read the psalms over her himself, -and her grave cost him nothing, as the watchman -of the cemetery was his cousin. Four peasants carried -the coffin to the grave, not for money but for love. -The old women, the beggars, and two village idiots -followed the body, and the people whom they passed -on the way crossed themselves devoutly. Jacob was -very glad that everything had passed off so nicely -and decently and cheaply, without giving offence -to any one. As he said farewell to Martha for the -last time he touched the coffin with his hand and -thought:</p> - -<p class='c011'>“That’s a fine job!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>But walking homeward from the cemetery he was -seized with great distress. He felt ill, his breath was -burning hot, his legs grew weak, and he longed for a -drink. Beside this, a thousand thoughts came crowding -into his head. He remembered again that he had -never once pitied Martha or said a tender word to her. -The fifty years of their life together lay stretched far, -far behind him, and somehow, during all that time, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_264'>264</span>he had never once thought about her at all or noticed -her more than if she had been a dog or a cat. And -yet she had lit the stove every day, and had cooked -and baked and fetched water and chopped wood, and -when he had come home drunk from a wedding she -had hung his fiddle reverently on a nail each time, and -had silently put him to bed with a timid, anxious look -on her face.</p> - -<p class='c011'>But here came Rothschild toward him, bowing and -scraping and smiling.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I have been looking for you, uncle!” he said. -“Moses Shakess presents his compliments and wants -you to go to him at once.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Jacob did not feel in a mood to do anything. He -wanted to cry.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Leave me alone!” he exclaimed, and walked on.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Oh, how can you say that?” cried Rothschild, -running beside him in alarm. “Moses will be very -angry. He wants you to come at once!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Jacob was disgusted by the panting of the Jew, -by his blinking eyes, and by the quantities of reddish -freckles on his face. He looked with aversion at his -long green coat and at the whole of his frail, delicate -figure.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“What do you mean by pestering me, garlic?” he -shouted. “Get away!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>The Jew grew angry and shouted back:</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Don’t yell at me like that or I’ll send you flying -over that fence!”</p> - -<p class='c011'><span class='pageno' id='Page_265'>265</span>“Get out of my sight!” bellowed Jacob, shaking his -fist at him. “There’s no living in the same town with -swine like you!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Rothschild was petrified with terror. He sank to -the ground and waved his hands over his head as if -to protect himself from falling blows; then he jumped -up and ran away as fast as his legs could carry him. -As he ran he leaped and waved his arms, and his long, -gaunt back could be seen quivering. The little boys -were delighted at what had happened, and ran after -him screaming: “Sheeny! Sheeny!” The dogs also -joined barking in the chase. Somebody laughed and -then whistled, at which the dogs barked louder and -more vigorously than ever.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Then one of them must have bitten Rothschild, for -a piteous, despairing scream rent the air.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Jacob walked across the common to the edge of -the town without knowing where he was going, and -the little boys shouted after him. “There goes old -man Bronze! There goes old man Bronze!” He -found himself by the river where the snipe were darting -about with shrill cries, and the ducks were quacking -and swimming to and fro. The sun was shining -fiercely and the water was sparkling so brightly that -it was painful to look at. Jacob struck into a path -that led along the river bank. He came to a stout, -red-cheeked woman just leaving a bath-house. “Aha, -you otter, you!” he thought. Not far from the bath-house -some little boys were fishing for crabs with -<span class='pageno' id='Page_266'>266</span>pieces of meat. When they saw Jacob they shouted -mischievously: “Old man Bronze! Old man Bronze!” -But there before him stood an ancient, spreading -willow tree with a massive trunk, and a crow’s nest -among its branches. Suddenly there flashed across -Jacob’s memory with all the vividness of life a little -child with golden curls, and the willow of which Martha -had spoken. Yes, this was the same tree, so green -and peaceful and sad. How old it had grown, poor -thing!</p> - -<p class='c011'>He sat down at its foot and thought of the past. -On the opposite shore, where that meadow now was, -there had stood in those days a wood of tall birch-trees, -and that bare hill on the horizon yonder had -been covered with the blue bloom of an ancient pine -forest. And sailboats had plied the river then, but -now all lay smooth and still, and only one little birch-tree -was left on the opposite bank, a graceful young -thing, like a girl, while on the river there swam only -ducks and geese. It was hard to believe that boats -had once sailed there. It even seemed to him that -there were fewer geese now than there had been. -Jacob shut his eyes, and one by one white geese came -flying toward him, an endless flock.</p> - -<p class='c011'>He was puzzled to know why he had never -once been down to the river during the last forty or -fifty years of his life, or, if he had been there, why he -had never paid any attention to it. The stream was -fine and large; he might have fished in it and sold the -<span class='pageno' id='Page_267'>267</span>fish to the merchants and the government officials and -the restaurant keeper at the station, and put the -money in the bank. He might have rowed in a boat -from farm to farm and played on his fiddle. People -of every rank would have paid him money to hear him. -He might have tried to run a boat on the river, that -would have been better than making coffins. Finally, -he might have raised geese, and killed them, and sent -them to Moscow in the winter. Why, the down alone -would have brought him ten roubles a year! But he -had missed all these chances and had done nothing. -What losses were here! Ah, what terrible losses! And, -oh, if he had only done all these things at the same -time! If he had only fished, and played the fiddle, -and sailed a boat, and raised geese, what capital he -would have had by now! But he had not even -dreamed of doing all this; his life had gone by without -profit or pleasure. It had been lost for a song. -Nothing was left ahead; behind lay only losses, and -such terrible losses that he shuddered to think of them. -But why shouldn’t men live so as to avoid all this waste -and these losses? Why, oh, why, should those birch -and pine forests have been felled? Why should those -meadows be lying so deserted? Why did people always -do exactly what they ought not to do? Why had -Jacob scolded and growled and clenched his fists and -hurt his wife’s feelings all his life? Why, oh why, -had he frightened and insulted that Jew just now? -Why did people in general always interfere with one -<span class='pageno' id='Page_268'>268</span>another? What losses resulted from this! What -terrible losses! If it were not for envy and anger -they would get great profit from one another.</p> - -<p class='c011'>All that evening and night Jacob dreamed of the -child, of the willow tree, of the fish and the geese, -of Martha with her profile like a thirsty bird, and of -Rothschild’s pale, piteous mien. Queer faces seemed -to be moving toward him from all sides, muttering -to him about his losses. He tossed from side to side, -and got up five times during the night to play his -fiddle.</p> - -<p class='c011'>He rose with difficulty next morning, and walked to -the hospital. The same doctor’s assistant ordered him -to put cold bandages on his head, and gave him little -powders to take; by his expression and the tone of his -voice Jacob knew that the state of affairs was bad, and -that no powders could save him now. As he walked -home he reflected that one good thing would result -from his death: he would no longer have to eat and -drink and pay taxes, neither would he offend people -any more, and, as a man lies in his grave for hundreds -of thousands of years, the sum of his profits would be -immense. So, life to a man was a loss—death, a gain. -Of course this reasoning was correct, but it was also -distressingly sad. Why should the world be so strangely -arranged that a man’s life which was only given to him -once must pass without profit?</p> - -<p class='c011'>He was not sorry then that he was going to die, but -when he reached home, and saw his fiddle, his heart -<span class='pageno' id='Page_269'>269</span>ached, and he regretted it deeply. He would not be -able to take his fiddle with him into the grave, and -now it would be left an orphan, and its fate would be -that of the birch grove and the pine forest. Everything -in the world had been lost, and would always -be lost for ever. Jacob went out and sat on the -threshold of his hut, clasping his fiddle to his breast. -And as he thought of his life so full of waste and losses -he began playing without knowing how piteous and -touching his music was, and the tears streamed down -his cheeks. And the more he thought the more -sorrowfully sang his violin.</p> - -<p class='c011'>The latch clicked and Rothschild came in through -the garden-gate, and walked boldly half-way across the -garden. Then he suddenly stopped, crouched down, -and, probably from fear, began making signs with his -hands as if he were trying to show on his fingers -what time it was.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Come on, don’t be afraid!” said Jacob gently, -beckoning him to advance. “Come on!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>With many mistrustful and fearful glances Rothschild -went slowly up to Jacob, and stopped about two -yards away.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Please don’t beat me!” he said with a ducking -bow. “Moses Shakess has sent me to you again. -‘Don’t be afraid,’ he said, ‘go to Jacob,’ says he, ‘and -say that we can’t possibly manage without him.’ -There is a wedding next Thursday. Ye-es, sir. Mr. -Shapovaloff is marrying his daughter to a very fine -<span class='pageno' id='Page_270'>270</span>man. It will be an expensive wedding, ai, ai!” added -the Jew with a wink.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I can’t go” said Jacob breathing hard. “I’m ill, -brother.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>And he began to play again, and the tears gushed -out of his eyes over his fiddle. Rothschild listened -intently with his head turned away and his arms -folded on his breast. The startled, irresolute look on -his face gradually gave way to one of suffering and -grief. He cast up his eyes as if in an ecstasy of agony -and murmured: “Ou—ouch!” And the tears began -to trickle slowly down his cheeks, and to drip over his -green coat.</p> - -<p class='c011'>All day Jacob lay and suffered. When the priest -came in the evening to administer the Sacrament he -asked him if he could not think of any particular sin.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Struggling with his fading memories, Jacob recalled -once more Martha’s sad face, and the despairing cry -of the Jew when the dog had bitten him. He murmured -almost inaudibly:</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Give my fiddle to Rothschild.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“It shall be done,” answered the priest.</p> - -<p class='c011'>So it happened that every one in the little town began -asking:</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Where did Rothschild get that good fiddle? Did -he buy it or steal it or get it out of a pawnshop?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Rothschild has long since abandoned his flute, and -now only plays on the violin. The same mournful -notes flow from under his bow that used to come -<span class='pageno' id='Page_271'>271</span>from his flute, and when he tries to repeat what -Jacob played as he sat on the threshold of his hut, -the result is an air so plaintive and sad that every one -who hears him weeps, and he himself at last raises his -eyes and murmurs: “Ou—ouch!” And this new -song has so delighted the town that the merchants -and government officials vie with each other in getting -Rothschild to come to their houses, and sometimes -make him play it ten times in succession.</p> - -<div> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_272'>272</span> - <h3 class='c009'>A HORSEY NAME</h3> -</div> - -<p class='drop-capa0_0_6 c010'>Major-General Buldeeff was suffering -from toothache. He had rinsed his mouth with -vodka and cognac; applied tobacco ashes, opium, turpentine, -and kerosene to the aching tooth; rubbed his -cheek with iodine, and put cotton wool soaked with -alcohol into his ears, but all these remedies had either -failed to relieve him or else had made him sick. The -dentist was sent for. He picked at his tooth and prescribed -quinine, but this did not help the general. -Buldeeff met the suggestion that the tooth should be -pulled with refusal. Every one in the house, his wife, -his children, the servants, even Petka, the scullery boy, -suggested some remedy. Among others his steward, -Ivan Evceitch came to him, and advised him to try a -conjuror.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Your Excellency,” said he, “ten years ago an exciseman -lived in this county whose name was Jacob. -He was a first-class conjuror for the toothache. He -used simply to turn toward the window and spit, and -the pain would go in a minute. That was his gift.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Where is he now?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“After he was dismissed from the revenue service, -he went to live in Saratoff with his mother-in-law. -He makes his living off nothing but teeth now. If -<span class='pageno' id='Page_273'>273</span>any one has a toothache, he sends for him to cure it. -The Saratoff people have him come to their houses, -but he cures people in other cities by telegraph. Send -him a telegram, your Excellency, say: ‘I, God’s servant -Alexei, have the toothache. I want you to cure me.’ -You can send him his fee by mail.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Stuff and nonsense! Humbug!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Just try it, your Excellency! He is fond of vodka, -it is true, and is living with some German woman instead -of his wife, and he uses terrible language, but he -is a remarkable wonder worker.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Do send him a telegram, Alexei!” begged the -general’s wife. “You don’t believe in conjuring, I -know, but I have tried it. Why not send him the message, -even if you don’t believe it will do you any -good? It can’t kill you!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Very well, then,” Buldeeff consented. “I would -willingly send a telegram to the devil, let alone to an -exciseman. Ouch! I can’t stand this! Come, where -does your conjuror live? What is his name?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>The general sat down at his desk, and took up a pen.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“He is known to every dog in Saratoff,” said the -steward. “Just address the telegram to Mr. Jacob—Jacob——”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Well?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Jacob—Jacob—what? I can’t remember his surname. -Jacob—darn it, what is his surname? I thought -of it as I was coming along. Wait a minute!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Ivan raised his eyes to the ceiling, and moved his -<span class='pageno' id='Page_274'>274</span>lips. Buldeeff and his wife waited impatiently for him -to remember the name.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Well then, what is it? Think harder.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Just a minute! Jacob—Jacob—I can’t remember -it! It’s a common name too, something to do with a -horse. Is it Mayres? No it isn’t Mayres—Wait a -bit, is it Colt? No, it isn’t Colt. I know perfectly -well it’s a horsey name, but it has absolutely gone -out of my head!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“It isn’t Filley?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“No, no—wait a jiffy. Maresfield, Maresden—Farrier—Harrier——”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“That’s a doggy name, not a horsey one. Is it -Foley?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“No, no, it isn’t Foley. Just a second—Horseman—Horsey—Hackney. -No, it isn’t any of those.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Then how am I to send that telegram? Think a -little harder!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“One moment! Carter—Coltsford—Shafter——”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Shaftsbury?” suggested the general’s wife.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“No, no—Wheeler—no, that isn’t it! I’ve forgotten -it!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Then why on earth did you come pestering me -with your advice, if you couldn’t remember the man’s -name?” stormed the general. “Get out of here!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Ivan went slowly out, and the general clutched his -cheek, and went rushing through the house.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Ouch! Oh Lord!” he howled. “Oh, mother! -Ouch! I’m as blind as a bat!”</p> - -<p class='c011'><span class='pageno' id='Page_275'>275</span>The steward went into the garden, and, raising his -eyes to heaven, tried to remember the exciseman’s -name.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Hunt—Hunter—Huntley. No, that’s wrong! -Cobb—Cobden—Dobbins—Maresly——”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Shortly afterward, the steward was again summoned -by his master.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Well, have you thought of it?” asked the general.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“No, not yet, your Excellency!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Is it Barnes?” asked the general. “Is it Palfrey, -by any chance?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Every one in the house began madly to invent -names. Horses of every possible age, breed, and sex -were considered; their names, hoofs, and harness were -all thought of. People were frantically walking up -and down in the house, garden, servants’ quarters, and -kitchen, all scratching their heads, and searching for -the right name.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Suddenly the steward was sent for again.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Is it Herder?” they asked him. “Hocker? Hyde? -Groome?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“No, no, no,” answered Ivan, and, casting up his -eyes, he went on thinking aloud.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Steed—Charger—Horsely—Harness——”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Papa!” cried a voice from the nursery. “Tracey! -Bitter!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>The whole farm was now in an uproar. The impatient, -agonised general promised five roubles to -<span class='pageno' id='Page_276'>276</span>any one who would think of the right name, and a -perfect mob began to follow Ivan Evceitch about.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Bayley!” They cried to him. “Trotter! -Hackett!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Evening came at last, and still the name had not -been found. The household went to bed without -sending the telegram.</p> - -<p class='c011'>The general did not sleep a wink, but walked, groaning, -up and down his room. At three o’clock in the -morning he went out into the yard and tapped at the -steward’s window.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“It isn’t Gelder, is it?” he asked almost in tears.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“No, not Gelder, your Excellency,” answered Ivan, -sighing apologetically.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Perhaps it isn’t a horsey name at all? Perhaps -it is something entirely different?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“No, no, upon my word, it’s a horsey name, your -Excellency, I remember that perfectly.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“What an abominable memory you have, brother! -That name is worth more than anything on earth to -me now! I’m in agony!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Next morning the general sent for the dentist again.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I’ll have it out!” he cried. “I can’t stand this -any longer!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>The dentist came and pulled out the aching tooth. -The pain at once subsided, and the general grew -quieter. Having done his work and received his fee, -the dentist climbed into his gig, and drove away. In -the field outside the front gate he met Ivan. The -<span class='pageno' id='Page_277'>277</span>steward was standing by the roadside plunged in -thought, with his eyes fixed on the ground at his feet. -Judging from the deep wrinkles that furrowed his -brow, he was painfully racking his brains over something, -and was muttering to himself:</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Dunn—Sadler—Buckle—Coachman——”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Hello, Ivan!” cried the doctor driving up. “Won’t -you sell me a load of hay? I have been buying mine -from the peasants lately, but it’s no good.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Ivan glared dully at the doctor, smiled vaguely, -and without answering a word threw up his arms, -and rushed toward the house as if a mad dog were -after him.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I’ve thought of the name, your Excellency!” he -shrieked with delight, bursting into the general’s study. -“I’ve thought of it, thanks to the doctor. Hayes! -Hayes is the exciseman’s name! Hayes, your Honour! -Send a telegram to Hayes!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Slow-coach!” said the general contemptuously, -snapping his fingers at him. “I don’t need your -horsey name now! Slow-coach!”</p> - -<div> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_278'>278</span> - <h3 class='c009'>THE PETCHENEG<a id='r1' /><a href='#f1' class='c018'><sup>[1]</sup></a></h3> -</div> - -<p class='drop-capa0_0_6 c010'>One hot summer’s day Ivan Jmukin was returning -from town to his farm in southern Russia. -Jmukin was a retired old Cossack officer, who had -served in the Caucasus, and had once been lusty and -strong, but he was an old man now, shrivelled and -bent, with bushy eyebrows and a long, greenish-grey -moustache. He had been fasting in town, and had -made his will, for it was only two weeks since he had -had a slight stroke of paralysis, and now, sitting in -the train, he was full of deep, gloomy thoughts of his -approaching death, of the vanity of life, and of the -transient quality of all earthly things. At Provalye, -one of the stations on the Don railway, a fair-haired, -middle-aged man, carrying a worn portfolio under his -arm, entered the compartment and sat down opposite -the old Cossack. They began talking together.</p> - -<div class='footnote' id='f1'> -<p class='c011'><a href='#r1'>1</a>. Petchenegs, wild tribesmen of the Caucasus.</p> -</div> - -<p class='c011'>“No,” said Jmukin gazing pensively out of the -window. “It is never too late to marry. I myself -was forty-eight when I married, and every one said -it was too late, but it has turned out to be neither too -late nor too early. Still, it is better never to marry -at all. Every one soon gets tired of a wife, though -<span class='pageno' id='Page_279'>279</span>not every one will tell you the truth, because, you -know, people are ashamed of their family troubles, -and try to conceal them. It is often ‘Manya, dear -Manya,’ with a man when, if he had his way, he -would put that Manya of his into a sack, and throw -her into the river. A wife is a nuisance and a bore, -and children are no better, I can assure you. I have -two scoundrels myself. There is nowhere they can go -to school on the steppe, and I can’t afford to send them -to Novotcherkask, so they are growing up here like -young wolf cubs. At any moment they may murder -some one on the highway.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>The fair-haired man listened attentively, and answered -all questions addressed to him briefly, in a -low voice. He was evidently gentle and unassuming. -He told his companion that he was an attorney, on -his way to the village of Duevka on business.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Why, for heaven’s sake, that’s only nine miles -from where I live!” cried Jmukin, as if some one had -been disputing it. “You won’t be able to get any -horses at the station this evening. In my opinion the -best thing for you to do is to come home with me, you -know, and spend the night at my house, you know, -and let me send you on to-morrow with my horses.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>After a moment’s reflection the attorney accepted -the invitation.</p> - -<p class='c011'>The sun was hanging low over the steppe when -they arrived at the station. The two men remained -silent as they drove from the railway to the farm, for -<span class='pageno' id='Page_280'>280</span>the jolting that the road gave them forbade conversation. -The tarantass<a id='r2' /><a href='#f2' class='c018'><sup>[2]</sup></a> bounded and whined and seemed -to be sobbing, as if its leaps caused it the keenest pain, -and the attorney, who found his seat very uncomfortable, -gazed with anguish before him, hoping to descry -the farm in the distance. After they had driven eight -miles a low house surrounded by a dark wattle fence -came into view. The roof was painted green, the stucco -on the walls was peeling off, and the little windows -looked like puckered eyes. The farmhouse stood exposed -to all the ardour of the sun; neither trees nor -water were visible anywhere near it. The neighbouring -landowners and peasants called it “Petcheneg Grange.” -Many years ago a passing surveyor, who was spending -the night at the farm, had talked with Jmukin -all night, and had gone away in the morning much -displeased, saying sternly as he left: “Sir, you are -nothing but a Petcheneg!” So the name “Petcheneg -Grange” had been given to the farm, and had stuck -to it all the more closely as Jmukin’s boys began to -grow up, and to perpetrate raids on the neighbouring -gardens and melon fields. Jmukin himself was known -as “old man you know,” because he talked so much, -and used the words “you know” so often.</p> - -<div class='footnote' id='f2'> -<p class='c011'><a href='#r2'>2</a>. A rough carriage used in southern Russia.</p> -</div> - -<p class='c011'>Jmukin’s two sons were standing in the courtyard, -near the stables, as the tarantass drove up. One was -about nineteen, the other was a hobbledehoy of a few -years younger; both were barefoot and hatless. As -<span class='pageno' id='Page_281'>281</span>the carriage went by the younger boy threw a hen high -up over his head. It described an arc in the air, and -fluttered cackling down till the elder fired a shot from -his gun, and the dead bird fell to earth with a thud.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Those are my boys learning to shoot birds on the -wing,” Jmukin said.</p> - -<p class='c011'>The travellers were met in the front entry by a -woman, a thin, pale-faced little creature, still pretty -and young, who, from her dress, might have been -taken for a servant.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“This,” said Jmukin, “is the mother of those sons -of guns of mine. Come on, Lyuboff!” he cried to his -wife. “Hustle, now, mother, and help entertain our -guest. Bring us some supper! Quick!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>The house consisted of two wings. On one side -were the “drawing-room” and, adjoining it, the old -man’s bedchamber; close, stuffy apartments both, -with low ceilings, infested by thousands of flies. On -the other side was the kitchen, where the cooking and -washing were done and the workmen were fed. Here, -under benches, geese and turkeys were sitting on their -nests, and here stood the beds of Lyuboff and her two -sons. The furniture in the drawing-room was unpainted -and had evidently been made by a country -joiner. On the walls hung guns, game bags, and -whips, all of which old trash was rusty and grey with -dust. Not a picture was on the walls, only a dark, -painted board that had once been an icon hung in -one corner of the room.</p> - -<p class='c011'><span class='pageno' id='Page_282'>282</span>A young peasant woman set the table and brought -in ham and borstch.<a id='r3' /><a href='#f3' class='c018'><sup>[3]</sup></a> Jmukin’s guest declined vodka, -and confined himself to eating cucumbers and bread.</p> - -<div class='footnote' id='f3'> -<p class='c011'><a href='#r3'>3</a>. Borstch: the national soup of Little Russia.</p> -</div> - -<p class='c011'>“And what about the ham?” Jmukin asked.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“No, thank you, I don’t eat ham,” answered his -guest. “I don’t eat meat of any kind.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Why not?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I’m a vegetarian. It’s against my principles to -kill animals.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Jmukin was silent for a moment, and then said -slowly, with a sigh:</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I see—yes. I saw a man in town who didn’t eat -meat either. It is a new religion people have. And -why shouldn’t they have it? It’s a good thing. One -can’t always be killing and shooting; one must take -a rest sometimes and let the animals have a little -peace. Of course it’s a sin to kill, there’s no doubt -about that. Sometimes, when you shoot a hare, and -hit him in the leg he will scream like a baby. So it -hurts him!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Of course it hurts him! Animals suffer pain just -as much as we do.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“That’s a fact!” Jmukin agreed. “I see that -perfectly,” he added pensively. “Only there is one -thing that I must say I can’t quite understand. Suppose, -for instance, you know, every one were to stop -eating meat, what would become of all our barnyard -fowls, like chickens and geese?”</p> - -<p class='c011'><span class='pageno' id='Page_283'>283</span>“Chickens and geese would go free just like all -other birds.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Ah! Now I understand. Of course. Crows and -magpies get on without us all right. Yes. And -chickens and geese and rabbits and sheep would all -be free and happy, you know, and would praise God, -and not be afraid of us any more. So peace and quiet -would reign upon earth. Only one thing I can’t understand, -you know,” Jmukin continued, with a glance at -the ham. “Where would all the pigs go to? What -would become of them?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“The same thing that would become of all the -other animals, they would go free.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I see—yes. But, listen, if they were not killed, -they would multiply, you know, and then it would -be good-by to our meadows and vegetable gardens! -Why, if a pig is turned loose and not watched, it will -ruin everything for you in a day! A pig is a pig, and -hasn’t been called one for nothing!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>They finished their supper. Jmukin rose from the -table, and walked up and down the room for a long -time, talking interminably. He loved to think of and -discuss deep and serious subjects, and was longing to -discover some theory that would sustain him in his -old age, so that he might find peace of mind, and not -think it so terrible to die. He desired for himself the -same gentleness and self-confidence and peace of mind -which he saw in this guest of his, who had just eaten his -fill of cucumbers and bread, and was a better man for it, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_284'>284</span>sitting there on a bench so healthy and fat, patiently -bored, looking like a huge heathen idol that nothing -could move from his seat.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“If a man can only find some idea to hold to in -life, he will be happy,” Jmukin thought.</p> - -<p class='c011'>The old Cossack went out on the front steps, and -the attorney could hear him sighing and repeating to -himself:</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Yes—I see——”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Night was falling, and the stars were shining out -one by one. The lamps in the house had not been lit. -Some one came creeping toward the drawing-room as -silently as a shadow, and stopped in the doorway. It -was Lyuboff, Jmukin’s wife.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Have you come from the city?” she asked timidly, -without looking at her guest.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Yes, I live in the city.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Maybe you know about schools, master, and can -tell us what to do if you will be so kind. We need -advice.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“What do you want?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“We have two sons, kind master, and they should -have been sent to school long ago, but nobody ever -comes here and we have no one to tell us anything. I -myself know nothing. If they don’t go to school, they -will be taken into the army as common Cossacks. That -is hard, master. They can’t read or write, they are -worse off than peasants, and their father himself despises -them, and won’t let them come into the house. -<span class='pageno' id='Page_285'>285</span>Is it their fault? If only the younger one, at least, -could be sent to school! It’s a pity to see them so!” -she wailed, and her voice trembled. It seemed incredible -that a woman so little and young could already have -grown-up children. “Ah, it is such a pity!” she said -again.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“You know nothing about it, mother, and it’s none -of your business,” said Jmukin, appearing in the doorway. -“Don’t pester our guest with your wild talk. -Go away, mother!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Lyuboff went out, repeating once more in a high -little voice as she reached the hall:</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Ah, it is such a pity!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>A bed was made up for the attorney on a sofa in -the drawing-room, and Jmukin lit the little shrine -lamp, so that he might not be left in the dark. Then -he lay down in his own bedroom. Lying there he -thought of many things: his soul, his old age, and his -recent stroke which had given him such a fright and -had so sharply reminded him of his approaching death. -He liked to philosophise when he was alone in the dark, -and at these times he imagined himself to be a very -deep and serious person indeed, whose attention only -questions of importance could engage. He now kept -thinking that he would like to get hold of some one -idea unlike any other idea he had ever had, something -significant that would be the lodestar of his -life. He wanted to think of some law for himself, -that would make his life as serious and deep as he -<span class='pageno' id='Page_286'>286</span>himself personally was. And here was an idea! He -could go without meat now, and deprive himself of -everything that was superfluous to his existence! The -time would surely come when people would no longer -kill animals or one another, it could not but come, and -he pictured this future in his mind’s eye, and distinctly -saw himself living at peace with all the animal world. -Then he remembered the pigs again, and his brain began -to reel.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“What a muddle it all is!” he muttered, heaving a -deep sigh.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Are you asleep?” he asked.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“No.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Jmukin rose from his bed, and stood on the threshold -of the door in his nightshirt, exposing to his guest’s -view his thin, sinewy legs, as straight as posts.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Just look, now,” he began. “Here is all this telegraph -and telephone business, in a word, all these -marvels, you know, and yet people are no more virtuous -than they used to be. It is said that when I was -young, thirty or forty years ago, people were rougher -and crueller than they are now, but aren’t they just -the same to-day? Of course, they were less ceremonious -when I was a youngster. I remember how -once, when we had been stationed on the bank of a -river in the Caucasus for four months without anything -to do, quite a little romance took place. On -the very bank of the river, you know, where our regiment -was encamped, we had buried a prince whom we -<span class='pageno' id='Page_287'>287</span>had killed not long before. So at night, you know, his -princess used to come down to the grave and cry. She -screamed and screamed, and groaned and groaned until -we got into such a state that we couldn’t sleep a wink. -We didn’t sleep for nights. We grew tired of it. And -honestly, why should we be kept awake by that devil -of a voice? Excuse the expression! So we took that -princess and gave her a good thrashing, and she stopped -coming to the grave. There you are! Nowadays, -of course, men of that category don’t exist any more. -People don’t thrash one another, and they live more -cleanly and learn more lessons than they used to, but -their hearts haven’t changed one bit, you know. Listen -to this, for instance. There is a landlord near here -who owns a coal mine, you know. He has all sorts -of vagabonds and men without passports working for -him, men who have nowhere else to go. When Saturday -comes round the workmen have to be paid, and their -employer never wants to do that, he is too fond of his -money. So he has picked out a foreman, a vagabond, -too, though he wears a hat, and he says to him: ‘Don’t -pay them a thing,’ says our gentleman, ‘not even a -penny. They will beat you, but you must stand it. -If you do, I’ll give you ten roubles every Saturday.’ -So every week, regularly, when Saturday evening -comes round the workmen come for their wages, and -the foreman says: ‘There aren’t any wages!’ Well, -words follow, and then come abuse, and a drubbing. -They beat him and kick him, for the men are wild with -<span class='pageno' id='Page_288'>288</span>hunger, you know; they beat him until he is unconscious, -and then go off to the four winds of heaven. -The owner of the mine orders cold water to be thrown -over his foreman, and pitches him ten roubles. The -man takes the money, and is thankful, for the fact is -he would agree to wear a noose round his neck for a -penny! Yes, and on Monday a new gang of workmen -arrives. They come because they have nowhere else -to go. On Saturday there is the same old story over -again.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>The attorney rolled over, with his face toward the -back of the sofa, and mumbled something incoherent.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Take another example, for instance,” Jmukin -went on. “When we had the Siberian cattle plague -here, you know, the cattle died like flies, I can tell -you. The veterinary surgeons came, and strictly -ordered all infected stock that died to be buried as far -away from the farm as possible, and to be covered -with lime and so on, according to the laws of science. -Well, one of my horses died. I buried it with the -greatest care, and shovelled at least ten poods<a id='r4' /><a href='#f4' class='c018'><sup>[4]</sup></a> of lime -on top of it, but what do you think? That pair of -young jackanapes of mine dug up the horse one night, -and sold the skin for three roubles! There now, what -do you think of that?”</p> - -<div class='footnote' id='f4'> -<p class='c011'><a href='#r4'>4</a>. Pood: Russian measure of weight = 40 pounds.</p> -</div> - -<p class='c011'>Flashes of lightning were gleaming through the -cracks of the shutters on one side of the room. The -air was sultry before the approaching storm, and the -<span class='pageno' id='Page_289'>289</span>mosquitoes had begun to bite. Jmukin groaned and -sighed, as he lay meditating in his bed, and kept repeating -to himself:</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Yes—I see——”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Sleep was impossible. Somewhere in the distance -thunder was growling.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Are you awake?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Yes,” answered his guest.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Jmukin rose and walked with shuffling slippers -through the drawing-room, and hall, and into the -kitchen to get a drink of water.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“The worst thing in the world is stupidity,” he -said, as he returned a few minutes later with a dipper -in his hand. “That Lyuboff of mine gets down on -her knees and prays to God every night. She flops -down on the floor and prays that the boys may be -sent to school, you know. She is afraid they will be -drafted into the army as common Cossacks, and have -their backs tickled with sabres. But it would take -money to send them to school, and where can I get it? -What you haven’t got you haven’t got, and it’s no -use crying for the moon! Another reason she prays -is because, like all women, you know, she thinks -she is the most unhappy creature in the world. I -am an outspoken man, and I won’t hide anything -from you. She comes of a poor priest’s family—of -church-bell stock, one might say—and I married her -when she was seventeen. They gave her to me chiefly -because times were hard, and her family were in want -<span class='pageno' id='Page_290'>290</span>and had nothing to eat, and when all is said and done -I do own some land, as you see, and I am an officer -of sorts. She felt flattered at the idea of being my -wife, you know. But she began to cry on the day of -our wedding, and has cried every day since for twenty -years; her eyes must be made of water! She does -nothing but sit and think. What does she think -about, I ask you? What can a woman think about? -Nothing! The fact is, I don’t consider women human -beings.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>The attorney jumped up impetuously, and sat up -in bed.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Excuse me, I feel a little faint,” he said. “I am -going out-of-doors.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Jmukin, still talking about women, drew back the -bolts of the hall door, and both men went out together. -A full moon was floating over the grange. -The house and stables looked whiter than they had -by day, and shimmering white bands of light lay -among the shadows on the lawn. To the right lay the -steppe, with the stars glowing softly over it; as one -gazed into its depths, it looked mysterious and infinitely -distant, like some bottomless abyss. To the -left, heavy thunder-clouds lay piled one upon another. -Their margins were lit by the rays of the moon, and -they resembled dark forests, seas, and mountains with -snowy summits. Flashes of lightning were playing -about their peaks, and soft thunder was growling in -their depths; a battle seemed to be raging among them.</p> - -<p class='c011'><span class='pageno' id='Page_291'>291</span>Quite near the house a little screech owl was crying -monotonously:</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Whew! Whew!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“What time is it?” asked the attorney.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Nearly two o’clock.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“What a long time yet until dawn!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>They re-entered the house and lay down. It was -time to go to sleep, and sleep is usually so sound before -a storm, but the old man was pining for grave, -weighty meditations, and he not only wanted to think, -he wanted to talk as well. So he babbled on of what a -fine thing it would be if, for the sake of his soul, a -man could shake off this idleness that was imperceptibly -and uselessly devouring his days and years one -after another. He said he would like to think of -some feat of strength to perform, such as making a -long journey on foot or giving up meat, as this young -man had done. And once more he pictured the future -when men would no longer kill animals; he pictured -it as clearly and precisely as if he himself had lived -at that time, but suddenly his thoughts grew confused, -and again he understood nothing.</p> - -<p class='c011'>The thunder-storm rolled by, but one corner of the -cloud passed over the grange, and the rain began to -drum on the roof. Jmukin got up, sighing with age -and stretching his limbs, and peered into the drawing-room. -Seeing that his guest was still awake, he said:</p> - -<p class='c011'>“When we were in the Caucasus, you know, we had -a colonel who was a vegetarian as you are. He never -<span class='pageno' id='Page_292'>292</span>ate meat and never hunted or allowed his men to fish. -I can understand that, of course. Every animal has -a right to enjoy its life and its freedom. But I can’t -understand how pigs could be allowed to roam wherever -they pleased without being watched——”</p> - -<p class='c011'>His guest sat up in bed; his pale, haggard face was -stamped with vexation and fatigue. It was plain that -he was suffering agonies, and that only a kind and -considerate heart forbade him to put his irritation -into words.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“It is already light,” he said briefly. “Please let -me have a horse now.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“What do you mean? Wait until the rain stops!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“No, please!” begged the guest in a panic. “I -really must be going at once!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>And he began to dress quickly.</p> - -<p class='c011'>The sun was already rising when a horse and carriage -were brought to the door. The rain had stopped, -the clouds were skimming across the sky, and the -rifts of blue were growing wider and wider between -them. The first rays of the sun were timidly lighting -up the meadows below. The attorney passed through -the front entry with his portfolio under his arm, while -Jmukin’s wife, with red eyes, and a face even paler -than it had been the evening before, stood gazing -fixedly at him with the innocent look of a little girl. -Her sorrowful face showed how much she envied -her guest his liberty. Ah, with what joy she, -too, would have left this place! Her eyes spoke of -<span class='pageno' id='Page_293'>293</span>something she longed to say to him, perhaps some -advice she wanted to ask him about her boys. How -pitiful she was! She was not a wife, she was not the -mistress of the house, she was not even a servant, but -a miserable dependent, a poor relation, a nonentity -wanted by no one. Her husband bustled about near -his guest, not ceasing his talk for an instant, and at -last ran ahead to see him into the carriage, while she -stood shrinking timidly and guiltily against the wall, -still waiting for the moment to come that would give -her an opportunity to speak.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Come again! Come again!” the old man repeated -over and over again. “Everything we have -is at your service, you know!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>His guest hastily climbed into the tarantass, obviously -with infinite pleasure, looking as if he were -afraid every second of being detained. The tarantass -bounded and whined as it had done the day before, -and a bucket tied on behind clattered madly. The -attorney looked round at Jmukin with a peculiar expression -in his eyes. He seemed to be wanting to call -him a Petcheneg, or something of the sort, as the surveyor -had done, but his kindness triumphed. He controlled -himself, and the words remained unsaid. As -he reached the gate, however, he suddenly felt that he -could no longer contain himself; he rose in his seat, and -cried out in a loud, angry voice:</p> - -<p class='c011'>“You bore me to death!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>And with these words he vanished through the gate.</p> - -<p class='c011'><span class='pageno' id='Page_294'>294</span>Jmukin’s two sons were standing in front of the -stable. The older was holding a gun, the younger had -in his arms a grey cock with a bright red comb. The -younger tossed the cock into the air with all his might; -the bird shot up higher than the roof of the house, and -turned over in the air. The elder boy shot, and it -fell to the ground like a stone.</p> - -<p class='c011'>The old man stood nonplussed, and unable to comprehend -his guest’s unexpected exclamation. At last he -turned and slowly went into the house. Sitting down -to his breakfast, he fell into a long reverie about the -present tendency of thought, about the universal -wickedness of the present generation, about the telegraph -and the telephone and bicycles, and about how -unnecessary it all was. But he grew calmer little by -little as he slowly ate his meal. He drank five glasses -of tea, and lay down to take a nap.</p> - -<div> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_295'>295</span> - <h3 class='c009'>THE BISHOP</h3> -</div> - -<p class='drop-capa0_0_6 c010'>It was on the eve of Palm Sunday; vespers were -being sung in the Staro-Petrovski Convent. The -hour was nearly ten when the palm leaves were distributed, -and the little shrine lamps were growing dim; -their wicks had burnt low, and a soft haze hung in the -chapel. As the worshippers surged forward in the -twilight like the waves of the sea, it seemed to his -Reverence Peter, who had been feeling ill for three -days, that the people who came to him for palm leaves -all looked alike, and, men or women, old or young, -all had the same expression in their eyes. He could -not see the doors through the haze; the endless procession -rolled toward him, and seemed as if it must go -on rolling for ever. A choir of women’s voices was -singing and a nun was reading the canon.</p> - -<p class='c011'>How hot and close the air was, and how long the -prayers! His Reverence was tired. His dry, parching -breath was coming quickly and painfully, his shoulders -were aching, and his legs were trembling. The -occasional cries of an idiot in the gallery annoyed him. -And now, as a climax, his Reverence saw, as in a -delirium, his own mother whom he had not seen for -nine years coming toward him in the crowd. She, or -an old woman exactly like her, took a palm leaf from -<span class='pageno' id='Page_296'>296</span>his hands, and moved away looking at him all the -while with a glad, sweet smile, until she was lost in -the crowd. And for some reason the tears began to -course down his cheeks. His heart was happy and -peaceful, but his eyes were fixed on a distant part of the -chapel where the prayers were being read, and where -no human being could be distinguished among the -shadows. The tears glistened on his cheeks and beard. -Then some one who was standing near him began to -weep, too, and then another, and then another, until -little by little the chapel was filled with a low sound of -weeping. Then the convent choir began to sing, the -weeping stopped, and everything went on as before.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Soon afterward the service ended. The fine, jubilant -notes of the heavy chapel-bells were throbbing through -the moonlit garden as the bishop stepped into his coach -and drove away. The white walls, the crosses on the -graves, the silvery birches, and the far-away moon -hanging directly over the monastery, all seemed to be -living a life of their own, incomprehensible, but very -near to mankind. It was early in April, and a chilly -night had succeeded a warm spring day. A light frost -was falling, but the breath of spring could be felt in -the soft, cool air. The road from the monastery was -sandy, the horses were obliged to proceed at a walk, -and, bathed in the bright, tranquil moonlight, a stream -of pilgrims was crawling along on either side of the -coach. All were thoughtful, no one spoke. Everything -around them, the trees, the sky, and even the -<span class='pageno' id='Page_297'>297</span>moon, looked so young and intimate and friendly that -they were reluctant to break the spell which they -hoped might last for ever.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Finally the coach entered the city, and rolled down -the main street. All the stores were closed but that of -Erakin, the millionaire merchant. He was trying his -electric lights for the first time, and they were flashing -so violently that a crowd had collected in front of the -store. Then came wide, dark streets in endless succession, -and then the highway, and fields, and the -smell of pines. Suddenly a white crenelated wall -loomed before him, and beyond it rose a tall belfry -flanked by five flashing golden cupolas, all bathed -in moonlight. This was the Pankratievski Monastery -where his Reverence Peter lived. Here, too, the -calm, brooding moon was floating directly above -the monastery. The coach drove through the gate, -its wheels crunching on the sand. Here and there -the dark forms of monks started out into the moonlight -and footsteps rang along the flagstone paths.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Your mother has been here while you were away, -your Reverence,” a lay brother told the bishop as he -entered his room.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“My mother? When did she come?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Before vespers. She first found out where you -were, and then drove to the convent.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Then it was she whom I saw just now in the -chapel! Oh, Father in heaven!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>And his Reverence laughed for joy.</p> - -<p class='c011'><span class='pageno' id='Page_298'>298</span>“She told me to tell you, your Reverence,” the lay -brother continued, “that she would come back to-morrow. -She had a little girl with her, a grandchild, -I think. She is stopping at Ovsianikoff’s inn.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“What time is it now?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“It is after eleven.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“What a nuisance!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>His Reverence sat down irresolutely in his sitting-room, -unwilling to believe that it was already so late. -His arms and legs were racked with pain, the back of -his neck was aching, and he felt uncomfortable and -hot. When he had rested a few moments he went into -his bedroom and there, too, he sat down, and dreamed -of his mother. He heard the lay brother walking away -and Father Sisoi the priest coughing in the next room. -The monastery clock struck the quarter.</p> - -<p class='c011'>His Reverence undressed and began his prayers. He -spoke the old, familiar words with scrupulous attention, -and at the same time he thought of his mother. -She had nine children, and about forty grandchildren. -She had lived from the age of seventeen to the age of -sixty with her husband the deacon in a little village. -His Reverence remembered her from the days of his -earliest childhood, and, ah, how he had loved her! Oh, -that dear, precious, unforgettable childhood of his! -Why did those years that had vanished for ever seem -so much brighter and richer and gayer than they -really had been? How tender and kind his mother -had been when he was ill in his childhood and youth! -<span class='pageno' id='Page_299'>299</span>His prayers mingled with the memories that burned -ever brighter and brighter in his heart like a flame, -but they did not hinder his thoughts of his mother.</p> - -<p class='c011'>When he had prayed he lay down, and as soon as -he found himself in the dark there rose before his eyes -the vision of his dead father, his mother, and Lyesopolye, -his native village. The creaking of wagon wheels, -the bleating of sheep, the sound of church-bells on a -clear summer morning, ah, how pleasant it was to -think of these things! He remembered Father Simeon, -the old priest at Lyesopolye, a kind, gentle, good-natured -old man. He himself had been small, and the -priest’s son had been a huge strapping novice with a -terrible bass voice. He remembered how this young -priest had scolded the cook once, and had shouted: -“Ah, you she-ass of Jehovah!” And Father Simeon -had said nothing, and had only been mortified because -he could not for the life of him remember reading of an -ass of that name in the Bible!</p> - -<p class='c011'>Father Simeon had been succeeded by Father -Demian, a hard drinker who sometimes even went so -far as to see green snakes. He had actually borne the -nickname of “Demian the Snake-Seer” in the village. -Matvei Nikolaitch had been the schoolmaster, a kind, -intelligent man, but a hard drinker, too. He never -thrashed his scholars, but for some reason he kept a little -bundle of birch twigs hanging on his wall, under -which was a tablet bearing the absolutely unintelligible -inscription: “<span lang="la" xml:lang="la">Betula Kinderbalsamica Secuta.</span>” -<span class='pageno' id='Page_300'>300</span>He had had a woolly black dog whom he called -“Syntax.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>The bishop laughed. Eight miles from Lyesopolye -lay the village of Obnino possessing a miraculous -icon. A procession started from Obnino every summer -bearing the wonder-working icon and making the -round of all the neighbouring villages. The church-bells -would ring all day long first in one village, then -in another, and to Little Paul (his Reverence was called -Little Paul then) the air itself seemed tremulous with -rapture. Barefoot, hatless, and infinitely happy, he -followed the icon with a naïve smile on his lips and -naïve faith in his heart.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Until the age of fifteen Little Paul had been so slow -at his lessons that his parents had even thought of -taking him out of the ecclesiastical school and putting -him to work in the village store.</p> - -<p class='c011'>The bishop turned over so as to break the train of -his thoughts, and tried to go to sleep.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“My mother has come!” he remembered, and -laughed.</p> - -<p class='c011'>The moon was shining in through the window, and -the floor was lit by its rays while he lay in shadow. A -cricket was chirping. Father Sisoi was snoring in the -next room, and there was a forlorn, friendless, even a -vagrant note in the old man’s cadences.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Sisoi had once been the steward of a diocesan bishop -and was known as “Father Former Steward.” He -was seventy years old, and lived sometimes in a -<span class='pageno' id='Page_301'>301</span>monastery sixteen miles away, sometimes in the city, -sometimes wherever he happened to be. Three days -ago he had turned up at the Pankratievski Monastery, -and the bishop had kept him here in order to discuss -with him at his leisure the affairs of the monastery.</p> - -<p class='c011'>The bell for matins rang at half past one. Father -Sisoi coughed, growled something, and got up.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Father Sisoi!” called the bishop.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Sisoi came in dressed in a white cassock, carrying a -candle in his hand.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I can’t go to sleep,” his Reverence said. “I must -be ill. I don’t know what the matter is; I have fever.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“You have caught cold, your Lordship. I must rub -you with tallow.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Father Sisoi stood looking at him for a while and -yawned: “Ah-h—the Lord have mercy on us!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Erakin has electricity in his store now—I hate -it!” he continued.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Father Sisoi was aged, and round-shouldered, and -gaunt. He was always displeased with something or -other, and his eyes, which protruded like those of a -crab, always wore an angry expression.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I don’t like it at all,” he repeated—“I hate it.”</p> - -<h4 class='c014'>II</h4> - -<p class='c015'>Next day, on Palm Sunday, his Reverence officiated -at the cathedral in the city. Then he went to the -diocesan bishop’s, then to see a general’s wife who was -<span class='pageno' id='Page_302'>302</span>very ill, and at last he drove home. At two o’clock -two beloved guests were having dinner with him, his -aged mother, and his little niece Kitty, a child of eight. -The spring sun was peeping cheerily in through the -windows as they sat at their meal, and was shining -merrily on the white tablecloth, and on Kitty’s red -hair. Through the double panes they heard the rooks -cawing, and the magpies chattering in the garden.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“It is nine years since I saw you last,” said the old -mother, “and yet when I caught sight of you in the -convent chapel yesterday I thought to myself: God -bless me, he has not changed a bit! Only perhaps you -are a little thinner than you were, and your beard has -grown longer. Oh, holy Mother, Queen of Heaven! -Everybody was crying yesterday. As soon as I saw -you, I began to cry myself, I don’t know why. His -holy will be done!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>In spite of the tenderness with which she said this, -it was clear that she was not at her ease. It was as if -she did not know whether to address the bishop by -the familiar “thee” or the formal “you,” and whether -she ought to laugh or not. She seemed to feel herself -more of a poor deacon’s wife than a mother in his -presence. Meanwhile Kitty was sitting with her eyes -glued to the face of her uncle the bishop as if she were -trying to make out what manner of man this was. -Her hair had escaped from her comb and her bow of -velvet ribbon, and was standing straight up around -her head like a halo. Her eyes were foxy and bright. -<span class='pageno' id='Page_303'>303</span>She had broken a glass before sitting down, and now, -as she talked, her grandmother kept moving first a -glass, and then a wine glass out of her reach. As the -bishop sat listening to his mother, he remembered how, -many, many years ago, she had sometimes taken him -and his brothers and sisters to visit relatives whom -they considered rich. She had been busy with her own -children in those days, and now she was busy with her -grandchildren, and had come to visit him with Kitty -here.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Your sister Varenka has four children”—she was -telling him—“Kitty is the oldest. God knows why, -her father fell ill and died three days before Assumption. -So my Varenka has been thrown out into -the cold world.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“And how is my brother Nikanor?” the bishop asked.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“He is well, thank the Lord. He is pretty well, -praise be to God. But his son Nikolasha wouldn’t go -into the church, and is at college instead learning to -be a doctor. He thinks it is best, but who knows? -However, God’s will be done!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Nikolasha cuts up dead people!” said Kitty, spilling -some water into her lap.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Sit still child!” her grandmother said, quietly -taking the glass out of her hands.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“How long it is since we have seen one another!” -exclaimed his Reverence, tenderly stroking his mother’s -shoulder and hand. “I missed you when I was abroad, -I missed you dreadfully.”</p> - -<p class='c011'><span class='pageno' id='Page_304'>304</span>“Thank you very much!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I used to sit by my window in the evening listening -to the band playing, and feeling lonely and forlorn. -Sometimes I would suddenly grow so homesick that -I used to think I would gladly give everything I had -in the world for a glimpse of you and home.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>His mother smiled and beamed, and then immediately -drew a long face and said stiffly:</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Thank you very much!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>The bishop’s mood changed. He looked at his -mother, and could not understand where she had acquired -that deferential, humble expression of face and -voice, and what the meaning of it might be. He -hardly recognised her, and felt sorrowful and vexed. -Besides, his head was still aching, and his legs were -racked with pain. The fish he was eating tasted insipid -and he was very thirsty.</p> - -<p class='c011'>After dinner two wealthy lady landowners visited -him, and sat for an hour and a half with faces a mile -long, never uttering a word. Then an archimandrite, -a gloomy, taciturn man, came on business. Then -the bells rang for vespers, the sun set behind the -woods, and the day was done. As soon as he got back -from church the bishop said his prayers, and went to -bed, drawing the covers up closely about his ears. The -moonlight troubled him, and soon the sound of voices -came to his ears. Father Sisoi was talking politics -with his mother in the next room.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“There is a war in Japan now,” he was saying. -<span class='pageno' id='Page_305'>305</span>“The Japanese belong to the same race as the Montenegrins. -They fell under the Turkish yoke at the -same time.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>And then the bishop heard his mother’s voice say:</p> - -<p class='c011'>“And so, you see, when we had said our prayers, and -had our tea, we went to Father Yegor——”</p> - -<p class='c011'>She kept saying over and over again that they “had -tea,” as if all she knew of life was tea-drinking.</p> - -<p class='c011'>The memory of his seminary and college life slowly -and mistily took shape in the bishop’s mind. He had -been a teacher of Greek for three years, until he could -no longer read without glasses, and then he had taken -the vows, and had been made an inspector. When he -was thirty-two he had been made the rector of a seminary, -and then an archimandrite. At that time his -life had been so easy and pleasant, and had seemed -to stretch so far, far into the future that he could see -absolutely no end to it. But his health had failed, and -he had nearly lost his eyesight. His doctors had advised -him to give up his work and go abroad.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“And what did you do next?” asked Father Sisoi -in the adjoining room.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“And then we had tea,” answered his mother.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Why, Father, your beard is green!” exclaimed Kitty -suddenly. And she burst out laughing.</p> - -<p class='c011'>The bishop remembered that the colour of Father -Sisoi’s beard really did verge on green, and he, too, -laughed.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“My goodness! What a plague that child is!” -<span class='pageno' id='Page_306'>306</span>cried Father Sisoi in a loud voice, for he was growing -angry. “You’re a spoiled baby you are! Sit still!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>The bishop recalled the new white church in which -he had officiated when he was abroad, and the sound -of a warm sea. Eight years had slipped by while he -was there; then he had been recalled to Russia, and -now he was already a bishop, and the past had faded -away into mist as if it had been but a dream.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Father Sisoi came into his room with a candle in -his hand.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Well, well!” he exclaimed, surprised. “Asleep -already, your Reverence?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Why not?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“It’s early yet, only ten o’clock! I bought a candle -this evening and wanted to rub you with tallow.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I have a fever,” the bishop said, sitting up. “I -suppose something ought to be done. My head feels -so queer.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Sisoi began to rub the bishop’s chest and back with -tallow.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“There—there—” he said. “Oh, Lord God Almighty! -There! I went to town to-day, and saw -that—what do you call him?—that archpresbyter -Sidonski. I had tea with him. I hate him! Oh, -Lord God Almighty! There! I hate him!”</p> - -<div> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_307'>307</span> - <h4 class='c014'>III</h4> -</div> - -<p class='c015'>The diocesan bishop was very old and very fat, and -had been ill in bed with gout for a month. So his -Reverence Peter had been visiting him almost every -day, and had received his suppliants for him. And -now that he was ill he was appalled to think of the -futilities and trifles they asked for and wept over. He -felt annoyed at their ignorance and cowardice. The -very number of all those useless trivialities oppressed -him, and he felt as if he could understand the -diocesan bishop who had written “Lessons in Free -Will” when he was young, and now seemed so -absorbed in details that the memory of everything -else, even of God, had forsaken him. Peter must -have grown out of touch with Russian life while he -was abroad, for it was hard for him to grow used to it -now. The people seemed rough, the women stupid -and tiresome, the novices and their teachers uneducated -and often disorderly. And then the documents -that passed through his hands by the hundreds -of thousands! The provosts gave all the priests in -the diocese, young and old, and their wives and children -marks for good behaviour, and he was obliged -to talk about all this, and read about it, and write -serious articles on it. His Reverence never had -a moment which he could call his own; all day his -nerves were on edge, and he only grew calm when he -found himself in church.</p> - -<p class='c011'><span class='pageno' id='Page_308'>308</span>He could not grow accustomed to the terror which -he involuntarily inspired in every breast in spite of -his quiet and modest ways. Every one in the district -seemed to shrivel and quake and apologise as soon -as he looked at them. Every one trembled in his -presence; even the old archpresbyters fell down at -his feet, and not long ago one suppliant, the old wife -of a village priest, had been prevented by terror from -uttering a word, and had gone away without asking -for anything. And he, who had never been able to -say a harsh word in his sermons, and who never blamed -people because he pitied them so, would grow exasperated -with these suppliants, and hurl their petitions -to the ground. Not a soul had spoken sincerely and -naturally to him since he had been here; even his old -mother had changed, yes, she had changed very -much! Why did she talk so freely to Sisoi when all the -while she was so serious and ill at ease with him, her -own son? It was not like her at all! The only person -who behaved naturally in his presence, and who said -whatever came into his head was old man Sisoi, who -had lived with bishops all his life, and had outlasted -eleven of them. And therefore his Reverence felt at -ease with Sisoi, even though he was, without doubt, a -rough and quarrelsome person.</p> - -<p class='c011'>After morning prayers on Tuesday the bishop received -his suppliants, and lost his temper with them. -He felt ill, as usual, and longed to go to bed, but he -had hardly entered his room before he was told that -<span class='pageno' id='Page_309'>309</span>the young merchant Erakin, a benefactor of the -monastery, had called on very important business. -The bishop was obliged to receive him. Erakin stayed -about an hour talking in a very loud voice, and it was -hard to understand what he was trying to say.</p> - -<p class='c011'>After he had gone there came an abbess from a -distant convent, and by the time she had gone the -bells were tolling for vespers; it was time for the bishop -to go to church.</p> - -<p class='c011'>The monks sang melodiously and rapturously that -evening; a young, black-bearded priest officiated. His -Reverence listened as they sang of the Bridegroom and -of the chamber swept and garnished, and felt neither -repentance nor sorrow, but only a deep peace of mind. -He sat by the altar where the shadows were deepest, -and was swept in imagination back into the days of -his childhood and youth, when he had first heard these -words sung. The tears trickled down his cheeks, and -he meditated on how he had attained everything in -life that it was possible for a man in his position to -attain; his faith was unsullied, and yet all was not -clear to him; something was lacking, and he did not -want to die. It still seemed to him that he was leaving -unfound the most important thing of all. Something of -which he had dimly dreamed in the past, hopes that -had thrilled his heart as a child, a schoolboy, and a -traveller in foreign lands, troubled him still.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“How beautifully they are singing to-day!” he -thought. “Oh, how beautifully!”</p> - -<div> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_310'>310</span> - <h4 class='c014'>IV</h4> -</div> - -<p class='c015'>On Thursday he held a service in the cathedral. It -was the festival of the Washing of Feet. When the -service was over, and the people had gone to their -several homes, the sun was shining brightly and -cheerily, and the air was warm. The gutters were -streaming with bubbling water, and the tender songs -of larks came floating in from the fields beyond -the city, bringing peace to his heart. The trees were -already awake, and over them brooded the blue, unfathomable -sky.</p> - -<p class='c011'>His Reverence went to bed as soon as he reached -home, and told the lay brother to close his shutters. -The room grew dark. Oh, how tired he was!</p> - -<p class='c011'>As on the day before, the sound of voices and the -tinkling of glasses came to him from the next room. -His mother was gaily recounting some tale to Father -Sisoi, with many a quaint word and saying, and the -old man was listening gloomily, and answering in a -gruff voice:</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Well, I never! Did they, indeed? What do you -think of that!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>And once more the bishop felt annoyed, and then -hurt that the old lady should be so natural and simple -with strangers, and so silent and awkward with her -own son. It even seemed to him that she always tried -to find some pretext for standing in his presence, as if -<span class='pageno' id='Page_311'>311</span>she felt uneasy sitting down. And his father? If he -had been alive, he would probably not have been able -to utter a word when the bishop was there.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Something in the next room fell to the floor with a -crash. Kitty had evidently broken a cup or a saucer, -for Father Sisoi suddenly snorted, and cried angrily:</p> - -<p class='c011'>“What a terrible plague this child is! Merciful -heavens! No one could keep her supplied with china!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Then silence fell. When he opened his eyes again, -the bishop saw Kitty standing by his bedside staring -at him, her red hair standing up around her head like -a halo, as usual.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Is that you, Kitty?” he asked. “Who is that -opening and shutting doors down there?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I don’t hear anything.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>He stroked her head.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“So your cousin Nikolasha cuts up dead people, -does he?” he asked, after a pause.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Yes, he is learning to.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Is he nice?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Yes, very, only he drinks a lot.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“What did your father die of?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Papa grew weaker and weaker, and thinner and -thinner, and then came his sore throat. And I was -ill, too, and so was my brother Fedia. We all had -sore throats. Papa died, Uncle, but we got well.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Her chin quivered, her eyes filled with tears.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Oh, your Reverence!” she cried in a shrill voice, -beginning to weep bitterly. “Dear Uncle, mother and -<span class='pageno' id='Page_312'>312</span>all of us are so unhappy! Do give us a little money! -Help us, Uncle darling!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>He also shed tears, and for a moment could not -speak for emotion. He stroked her hair, and touched -her shoulder, and said:</p> - -<p class='c011'>“All right, all right, little child. Wait until Easter -comes, then we will talk about it. I’ll help you.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>His mother came quietly and timidly into the room, -and said a prayer before the icon. When she saw that -he was awake, she asked:</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Would you like a little soup?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“No, thanks,” he answered. “I’m not hungry.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I don’t believe you are well—I can see that you -are not well. You really mustn’t fall ill! You have -to be on your feet all day long. My goodness, it makes -one tired to see you! Never mind, Easter is no -longer over the hills and far away. When Easter -comes you will rest. God will give us time for a little -talk then, but now I’m not going to worry you any -more with my silly chatter. Come, Kitty, let his -Lordship have another forty winks——”</p> - -<p class='c011'>And the bishop remembered that, when he was a -boy, she had used exactly the same half playful, half -respectful tone to all high dignitaries of the church. -Only by her strangely tender eyes, and by the anxious -look which she gave him as she left the room could -any one have guessed that she was his mother. He -shut his eyes, and seemed to be asleep, but he heard -the clock strike twice, and Father Sisoi coughing next -<span class='pageno' id='Page_313'>313</span>door. His mother came in again, and looked shyly at -him. Suddenly there came a bang, and a door -slammed; a vehicle of some kind drove up to the front -steps. The lay brother came into the bishop’s room, -and called:</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Your Reverence!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“What is it?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Here is the coach! It is time to go to our Lord’s -Passion——”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“What time is it?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Quarter to eight.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>The bishop dressed, and drove to the cathedral. -He had to stand motionless in the centre of the church -while the twelve gospels were being read, and the first -and longest and most beautiful of them all he read -himself. A strong, valiant mood took hold of him. -He knew this gospel, beginning “The Son of Man is -risen to-day—,” by heart, and as he repeated it, he -raised his eyes, and saw a sea of little lights about -him. He heard the sputtering of candles, but the -people had disappeared. He felt surrounded by those -whom he had known in his youth; he felt that they -would always be here until—God knew when!</p> - -<p class='c011'>His father had been a deacon, his grandfather had -been a priest, and his great grandfather a deacon. -He sprang from a race that had belonged to the church -since Christianity first came to Russia, and his love -for the ritual of the church, the clergy, and the sound -of church-bells was inborn in him, deeply, irradicably -<span class='pageno' id='Page_314'>314</span>implanted in his heart. When he was in church, especially -when he was taking part in the service himself, -he felt active and valorous and happy. And so it was -with him now. Only, after the eighth gospel had been -read, he felt that his voice was becoming so feeble that -even his cough was inaudible; his head was aching, and -he began to fear that he might collapse. His legs -were growing numb; in a little while he ceased to -have any sensation in them at all, and could not -imagine what he was standing on, and why he did -not fall down.</p> - -<p class='c011'>It was quarter to twelve when the service ended. -The bishop went to bed as soon as he reached home, -without even saying his prayers. As he pulled his -blanket up over him, he suddenly wished that he were -abroad; he passionately wished it. He would give -his life, he thought, to cease from seeing these cheap, -wooden walls and that low ceiling, to cease from -smelling the stale scent of the monastery.</p> - -<p class='c011'>If there were only some one with whom he could -talk, some one to whom he could unburden his heart!</p> - -<p class='c011'>He heard steps in the adjoining room, and tried to -recall who it might be. At last the door opened, and -Father Sisoi came in with a candle in one hand, and a -teacup in the other.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“In bed already, your Reverence?” he asked. “I -have come to rub your chest with vinegar and vodka. -It is a fine thing, if rubbed in good and hard. Oh, -Lord God Almighty! There—there—I have just come -<span class='pageno' id='Page_315'>315</span>from our monastery. I hate it. I am going away from -here to-morrow, my Lord. Oh, Lord, God Almighty—there——”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Sisoi never could stay long in one place, and he now -felt as if he had been in this monastery for a year. It -was hard to tell from what he said where his home was, -whether there was any one or anything in the world -that he loved, and whether he believed in God or not. -He himself never could make out why he had become -a monk, but then, he never gave it any thought, and -the time when he had taken the vows had long since -faded from his memory. He thought he must have -been born a monk.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Yes, I am going away to-morrow. Bother this -place!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I want to have a talk with you—I never seem to -have the time—” whispered the bishop, making a -great effort to speak. “You see, I don’t know any -one—or anything—here——”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Very well then, I shall stay until Sunday, but no -longer! Bother this place!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“What sort of a bishop am I?” his Reverence went -on, in a faint voice. “I ought to have been a village -priest, or a deacon, or a plain monk. All this is choking -me—it is choking me——”</p> - -<p class='c011'>“What’s that? Oh, Lord God Almighty! There—go -to sleep now, your Reverence. What do you mean? -What’s all this you are saying? Good night!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>All night long the bishop lay awake, and in the -<span class='pageno' id='Page_316'>316</span>morning he grew very ill. The lay brother took fright -and ran first to the archimandrite, and then for the -monastery doctor who lived in the city. The doctor, -a stout, elderly man, with a long, grey beard, looked -intently at his Reverence, shook his head, knit his -brows, and finally said:</p> - -<p class='c011'>“I’ll tell you what, your Reverence; you have -typhoid.”</p> - -<p class='c011'>The bishop grew very thin and pale in the next -hour, his eyes grew larger, his face became covered -with wrinkles, and he looked quite small and old. He -felt as if he were the thinnest, weakest, puniest man -in the whole world, and as if everything that had occurred -before this had been left far, far behind, and -would never happen again.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“How glad I am of that!” he thought. “Oh, how -glad!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>His aged mother came into the room. When she -saw his wrinkled face and his great eyes, she was -seized with fear, and, falling down on her knees by his -bedside, she began kissing his face, his shoulders, and -his hands. He seemed to her to be the thinnest, -weakest, puniest man in the world, and she forgot -that he was a bishop, and kissed him as if he had been -a little child whom she dearly, dearly loved.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Little Paul, my dearie!” she cried. “My little -son, why do you look like this? Little Paul, oh, answer -me!”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Kitty, pale and severe, stood near them, and could -<span class='pageno' id='Page_317'>317</span>not understand what was the matter with her uncle, -and why granny wore such a look of suffering on her -face, and spoke such heartrending words. And he, he -was speechless, and knew nothing of what was going -on around him. He was dreaming that he was an -ordinary man once more, striding swiftly and merrily -through the open country, a staff in his hand, bathed -in sunshine, with the wide sky above him, as free as -a bird to go wherever his fancy led him.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“My little son! My little Paul! Answer me!” -begged his mother.</p> - -<p class='c011'>“Don’t bother his Lordship,” said Sisoi. “Let him -sleep. What’s the matter?”</p> - -<p class='c011'>Three doctors came, consulted together, and drove -away. The day seemed long, incredibly long, and -then came the long, long night. Just before dawn on -Saturday morning the lay brother went to the old -mother who was lying on a sofa in the sitting-room, -and asked her to come into the bedroom; his Reverence -had gone to eternal peace.</p> - -<p class='c011'>Next day was Easter. There were forty-two churches -in the city, and two monasteries, and the deep, joyous -notes of their bells pealed out over the town from -morning until night. The birds were carolling, the -bright sun was shining. The big market place was -full of noise; barrel organs were droning, concertinas -were squealing, and drunken voices were ringing -through the air. Trotting races were held in the main -street that afternoon; in a word, all was merry and -<span class='pageno' id='Page_318'>318</span>gay, as had been the year before and as, doubtless, it -would be the year to come.</p> - -<p class='c011'>A month later a new bishop was appointed, and -every one forgot his Reverence Peter. Only the dead -man’s mother, who is living now in a little country -town with her son the deacon, when she goes out at -sunset to meet her cow, and joins the other women -on the way, tells them about her children and grandchildren, -and her boy who became a bishop.</p> - -<p class='c011'>And when she mentions him she looks at them shyly, -for she is afraid they will not believe her.</p> - -<p class='c011'>And, as a matter of fact, not all of them do.</p> -<div class='pbb'> - <hr class='pb c003' /> -</div> - -<div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> -<div class='nf-center c004'> - <div>A SELECTION FROM DUCKWORTH & CO.’S LIST OF PUBLICATIONS</div> - </div> -</div> - -</div> -<div class='figcenter id001'> -<img src='images/i_321.jpg' alt='DESORMAIS' class='ig001' /> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> -<div class='nf-center c002'> - <div>3 HENRIETTA STREET, COVENT GARDEN</div> - <div>LONDON, W.C.</div> - </div> -</div> - -<div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> -<div class='nf-center c004'> - <div>DUCKWORTH & CO.’S</div> - <div>PUBLICATIONS</div> - </div> -</div> - -</div> - -<div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> -<div class='nf-center c002'> - <div>ANIMAL LIFE AND WILD NATURE</div> - <div>(STORIES OF).</div> - </div> -</div> - -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> - <div class='nf-center'> - <div><i>Uniform bindings large cr. 8vo. 6s. net.</i></div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c019'><span class='sc'>Under the Roof of the Jungle.</span> A Book of Animal Life -in the Guiana Wilds. Written and illustrated by Charles -Livingston Bull. With 60 full-page plates drawn from -Life by the Author.</p> - -<p class='c019'><span class='sc'>The Kindred of the Wild.</span> A Book of Animal Life. By -Charles G. D. Roberts, Professor of Literature, Toronto -University, late Deputy-Keeper of Woods and Forests, -Canada. With many illustrations by Charles Livingston -Bull.</p> - -<p class='c019'><span class='sc'>The Watchers of the Trails.</span> A Book of Animal Life. -By Charles G. D. Roberts. With 48 illustrations by -Charles Livingston Bull.</p> - -<p class='c019'><span class='sc'>The Story of Red Fox.</span> A Biography. By Charles G. D. -Roberts. Illustrated by Charles Livingston Bull.</p> - -<p class='c019'><span class='sc'>The Haunters of the Silences.</span> A Book of Wild Nature. -By Charles G. D. Roberts. Illustrated by Charles -Livingston Bull.</p> - -<div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> -<div class='nf-center c002'> - <div>BOOKS ON ART.</div> - </div> -</div> - -</div> - -<p class='c019'><span class='sc'>Art—The Library of</span>, embracing Painting, Sculpture, Architecture, -etc. Edited by Mrs S. Arthur Strong, LL.D. -<i>Extra cloth</i>, with lettering and design in gold. <i>Large -cr. 8vo</i> (7¾ in. × 5¾ in.), <i>gilt top, headband. 5s. net a -volume. Inland postage, 5d.</i></p> - -<div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> -<div class='nf-center c002'> - <div>LIST OF VOLUMES</div> - </div> -</div> - -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-b c012'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'><span class='sc'>Donatello.</span> By Lord Balcarres, M.P. With 58 plates.</div> - <div class='line'><span class='sc'>Great Masters of Dutch and Flemish Painting.</span> By Dr W. Bode. With 48 plates.</div> - <div class='line'><span class='sc'>Rembrandt.</span> By G. Baldwin Brown, of the University of Edinburgh. With 45 plates.</div> - <div class='line'><span class='sc'>Antonio Pollaiuolo.</span> By Maud Cruttwell. With 50 plates.</div> - <div class='line'><span class='sc'>Verrocchio.</span> By Maud Cruttwell. With 48 plates.</div> - <div class='line'><span class='sc'>The Lives of the British Architects.</span> By E. Beresford Chancellor. With 45 plates.</div> - <div class='line'><span class='sc'>The School of Madrid.</span> By A. de Beruete y Moret. With 48 plates.</div> - <div class='line'><span class='sc'>William Blake.</span> By Basil de Selincourt. With 40 plates.</div> - <div class='line'><span class='sc'>Giotto.</span> By Basil de Selincourt. With 44 plates.</div> - <div class='line'><span class='sc'>French Painting in the Sixteenth Century.</span> By L. Dimier. With 50 plates.</div> - <div class='line'><span class='sc'>The School of Ferrara.</span> By Edmund G. Gardner. With 50 plates.</div> - <div class='line'><span class='sc'>Six Greek Sculptors.</span> (Myron, Pheidias, Polykleitos, Skopas, Praxiteles, and Lysippos.) By Ernest Gardner. With 81 plates.</div> - <div class='line'><span class='sc'>Titian.</span> By Dr Georg Gronau. With 54 plates.</div> - <div class='line'><span class='sc'>Constable.</span> By M. Sturge Henderson. With 48 plates.</div> - <div class='line'><span class='sc'>Pisanello.</span> By G. F. Hill. With 50 plates.</div> - <div class='line'><span class='sc'>Michael Angelo.</span> By Sir Charles Holroyd. With 52 plates.</div> - <div class='line'><span class='sc'>Mediæval Art.</span> By W. R. Lethaby. With 66 plates and 120 drawings in the text.</div> - <div class='line'><span class='sc'>The Scottish School of Painting.</span> By William D. McKay, R.S.A. With 46 plates.</div> - <div class='line'><span class='sc'>Christopher Wren.</span> By Lena Milman. With upwards of 60 plates.</div> - <div class='line'><span class='sc'>Correggio.</span> By T. Sturge Moore. With 55 plates.</div> - <div class='line'><span class='sc'>Albert Dürer.</span> By T. Sturge Moore. With 4 copperplates and 50 half-tone engravings.</div> - <div class='line'><span class='sc'>Sir William Beechey</span>, R.A. By W. Roberts. With 49 plates.</div> - <div class='line'><span class='sc'>The School of Seville.</span> By N. Sentenach. With 50 plates.</div> - <div class='line'><span class='sc'>Roman Sculpture from Augustus to Constantine.</span> By Mrs S. Arthur Strong, LL.D., Editor of the Series. 2 vols. With 130 plates.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c019'><span class='sc'>Art, The Popular Library of.</span> Pocket volumes of biographical -and critical value on the great painters, with very -many reproductions of the artists’ works. Each volume -averages 200 pages, 16mo, with from 40 to 50 illustrations. -To be had in different styles of binding: <i>Boards gilt, 1s. -net</i>; <i>green canvas and red cloth gilt, 2s. net</i>; <i>limp lambskin, -red and green, 2s. 6d. net</i>. Several titles can also -be had in the popular Persian yapp binding, in box, -<i>2s. 6d. net each</i>.</p> - -<div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> -<div class='nf-center c002'> - <div>LIST OF VOLUMES.</div> - </div> -</div> - -</div> -<div class='lg-container-b c012'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'><span class='sc'>Botticelli.</span> By Julia Cartwright (Mrs Ady). Also in Persian yapp binding.</div> - <div class='line'><span class='sc'>Raphael.</span> By Julia Cartwright (Mrs Ady). Also in Persian yapp binding.</div> - <div class='line'><span class='sc'>Frederick Walker.</span> By Clementina Black.</div> - <div class='line'><span class='sc'>Rembrandt.</span> By Auguste Bréal.</div> - <div class='line'><span class='sc'>Velazquez.</span> By Auguste Bréal. Also in Persian yapp binding.</div> - <div class='line'><span class='sc'>Gainsborough.</span> By Arthur B. Chamberlain. Also in Persian yapp binding.</div> - <div class='line'><span class='sc'>Cruikshank.</span> By W. H. Chesson.</div> - <div class='line'><span class='sc'>Blake.</span> By G. K. Chesterton.</div> - <div class='line'><span class='sc'>G. F. Watts.</span> By G. K. Chesterton. Also in Persian yapp binding.</div> - <div class='line'><span class='sc'>Albrecht Dürer.</span> By Lina Eckenstein.</div> - <div class='line'><span class='sc'>The English Water-Colour Painters.</span> By A. J. Finberg. Also in Persian yapp binding.</div> - <div class='line'><span class='sc'>Hogarth.</span> By Edward Garnett.</div> - <div class='line'><span class='sc'>Leonardo da Vinci.</span> By Dr Georg Gronau. Also in Persian yapp binding.</div> - <div class='line'><span class='sc'>Holbein.</span> By Ford Madox Hueffer.</div> - <div class='line'><span class='sc'>Rossetti.</span> By Ford Madox Hueffer. Also in Persian yapp binding.</div> - <div class='line'><span class='sc'>The Pre-Raphaelite Brotherhood.</span> By Ford Madox Hueffer. Also in Persian yapp binding.</div> - <div class='line'><span class='sc'>Perugino.</span> By Edward Hutton.</div> - <div class='line'><span class='sc'>Millet.</span> By Romain Rolland. Also in Persian yapp binding.</div> - <div class='line'><span class='sc'>Watteau.</span> By Camille Mauclair.</div> - <div class='line'><span class='sc'>The French Impressionists.</span> By Camille Mauclair. Also in Persian yapp binding.</div> - <div class='line'><span class='sc'>Whistler.</span> By Bernhard Sickert. Also in Persian yapp binding.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c019'><span class='sc'>Amelung, Walther, and Holtzinger, Heinrich.</span> The -Museums and Ruins of Rome. A Guide Book. Edited -by Mrs S. Arthur Strong, LL.D. With 264 illustrations -and map and plans. 2 vols. New and cheaper re-issue. -<i>Fcap 8vo. 5s. net.</i></p> - -<p class='c019'><span class='sc'>Burns, Rev. J.</span> Sermons in Art by the Great Masters. -<i>Cloth gilt</i>, photogravure frontispiece and many illustrations. -<i>Cr. 8vo. 6s.</i> Or bound in parchment, <i>5s. net</i>.</p> - -<p class='c019'>—— The Christ Face in Art. With 60 illustrations in tint. -<i>Cr. 8vo. cloth gilt. 6s.</i> Or bound in parchment, <i>5s. net</i>.</p> - -<p class='c019'><span class='sc'>Bussy, Dorothy.</span> Eugène Delacroix. A Critical Appreciation. -With 26 illustrations. New and cheaper re-issue. -<i>Cr. 8vo. 2s. 6d. net.</i></p> - -<p class='c019'><span class='sc'>Carotti, Giulio.</span> A History of Art. English edition, -edited by Mrs S. Arthur Strong, LL.D. In four -volumes, with very numerous illustrations in each volume. -<i>Small cr. 8vo. 5s. net each volume.</i></p> - -<div class='lg-container-b c020'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>Vol. I.—<span class='sc'>Ancient Art.</span> 500 illustrations.</div> - <div class='line'>Vol. II.—<span class='sc'>Middle Ages down to the Golden Age.</span></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c019'><span class='sc'>Löwy, Emanuel.</span> The Rendering of Nature in Early Greek -Art. With 30 illustrations. <i>Cr. 8vo. 5s. net.</i></p> - -<p class='c019'><span class='sc'>Mauclair, Camille.</span> Auguste Rodin. With very many -illustrations and photogravure frontispiece. <i>Small 4to.</i> -New and cheaper re-issue. <i>7s. 6d. net.</i></p> - -<div class='lg-container-b c020'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'><i>See also Popular Library of Art for other books by Camille Mauclair.</i></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c019'><span class='sc'>Quigley, J.</span> Leandro Ramon Garrido: his Life and Art. -With 26 illustrations. <i>Sq. cr. 8vo. 5s. net.</i></p> - -<div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> -<div class='nf-center c002'> - <div>GENERAL LITERATURE.</div> - </div> -</div> - -</div> -<p class='c019'><span class='sc'>Archer, William</span>, and <span class='sc'>Barker, H. Granville</span>. A -National Theatre. Schemes and Estimates. By William -Archer and H. Granville Barker. <i>Cr. 4to. 5s. net.</i></p> - -<p class='c019'><span class='sc'>Aspinall, Algernon E.</span> The Pocket Guide to the West -Indies. A New and Revised Edition, with maps, very -fully illustrated. <i>Fcap. 8vo. 5s. net.</i></p> - -<p class='c019'>—— West Indian Tales of Old. Illustrated. <i>Cr. 8vo. 5s. net.</i></p> - -<p class='c019'><span class='sc'>Austin, Sarah.</span> The Story without an End. From the -German of Carové. Illustrated by Frank C. Papé. -8 Illustrations in Colour. <i>Large cr. 8vo. Designed end -papers. Cloth gilt, gilt top. In box. 5s. net.</i></p> - -<p class='c019'>—— —— Illustrated by Paul Henry. <i>8vo. 1s. 6d. net.</i></p> - -<p class='c019'><span class='sc'>Belloc, Hilaire.</span> Verses. <i>Large cr. 8vo.</i> 2nd edition. -<i>5s. net.</i></p> - -<p class='c019'>—— and B. T. B. The Bad Child’s Book of Beasts. New -edition. 25th thousand. <i>Sq. 4to. 1s. net.</i></p> - -<p class='c019'>—— and B. T. B. More Beasts for Worse Children. New -edition. <i>Sq. 4to. 1s. net.</i></p> - -<div class='lg-container-b c020'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'><i>See also Readers’ Library and Shilling Series for other books by H. Belloc.</i></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c019'><span class='sc'>Bourne, George.</span> Change in the Village: A study of the -village of to-day. <i>Cr. 8vo. 5s. net.</i></p> - -<p class='c019'>—— —— Lucy Bettesworth. <i>Cr. 8vo. 6s.</i></p> - -<div class='lg-container-b c020'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'><i>See the Readers’ Library for other books by George Bourne.</i></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c019'><span class='sc'>Boutroux, Emile.</span> The Beyond that is Within, and other -Lectures. <i>Fcap. 8vo. 3s. 6d. net.</i></p> - -<div class='lg-container-b c020'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'><i>See the Crown Library for another book by Professor Boutroux.</i></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c019'><span class='sc'>Brooke, Stopford A.</span> The Onward Cry: Essays and -Sermons. New and Cheaper Edition. <i>Cr. 8vo. 2s. 6d. net.</i></p> - -<div class='lg-container-b c020'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'><i>See also the Readers’ Library and Roadmender Series for other books by Stopford Brooke.</i></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c019'><span class='sc'>Chapman, Hugh B.</span>, Chaplain of the Savoy. At the Back -of Things: Essays and Addresses. <i>Cr. 8vo. 5s. net.</i></p> - -<p class='c019'><span class='sc'>Collier, Price.</span> England and the English, from an American -point of view. <i>Demy 8vo. 7s. 6d. net.</i> Also a -popular edition, with Foreword by Lord Rosebery. -<i>Fcap. 8vo. 2s. 6d. net.</i></p> - -<p class='c019'>—— The West in the East: A study of British Rule in India. -<i>Demy 8vo. 7s. 6d. net.</i></p> - -<p class='c019'>—— Germany and the Germans from an American Point of -View. <i>Demy 8vo, 600 pages. 7s. 6d. net.</i></p> - -<p class='c019'><span class='sc'>Coulton, G. G.</span> From St Francis to Dante. A Historical -Sketch. Second edition. <i>Demy 8vo. 12s. 6d net.</i></p> - -<p class='c019'><span class='sc'>Crown Library.</span> <i>Demy 8vo, cloth gilt, gilt top. 5s. net a -volume.</i></p> - -<div class='lg-container-b c020'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'><span class='sc'>The Rubá’iyát of ’Umar Khayyám</span> (Fitzgerald’s 2nd Edition). Edited, with an Introduction and Notes, by Edward Heron Allen.</div> - <div class='line'><span class='sc'>Science and Religion in Contemporary Philosophy.</span> By Emile Boutroux.</div> - <div class='line'><span class='sc'>Wanderings in Arabia.</span> By Charles M. Doughty. An abridged edition of “Travels in Arabia Deserta.” With portrait and map. In 2 vols.</div> - <div class='line'><span class='sc'>Folk-Lore of the Holy Land</span>: Moslem, Christian, and Jewish. By J. E. Hanauer. Edited by Marmaduke Pickthall.</div> - <div class='line'><span class='sc'>Life and Evolution.</span> By F. W. Headley, F.Z.S. With upwards of 100 illustrations. New and revised edition (1913).</div> - <div class='line'><span class='sc'>The Note-Books of Leonardo da Vinci.</span> Edited by Edward McCurdy. With 14 illustrations.</div> - <div class='line'><span class='sc'>The Life and Letters of Leslie Stephen.</span> By F. W. Maitland. With a photogravure portrait.</div> - <div class='line'><span class='sc'>The Country Month by Month.</span> By J. A. Owen and G. S. Boulger. With 20 illustrations.</div> - <div class='line'><span class='sc'>Spinoza</span>: His Life and Philosophy. By Sir Frederick Pollock.</div> - <div class='line'><span class='sc'>The English Utilitarians.</span> By Sir Leslie Stephen. 3 vols.</div> - <div class='line in12'>Vol. I. <span class='sc'>James Mill.</span></div> - <div class='line in12'>Vol. II. <span class='sc'>Jeremy Bentham.</span></div> - <div class='line in12'>Vol. III. <span class='sc'>John Stuart Mill.</span></div> - </div> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'><span class='sc'>Critical Studies.</span> By S. Arthur Strong. With Memoir by Lord Balcarres, M.P. Illustrated.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c019'><span class='sc'>Cutting Ceres.</span> The Praying Girl. Thoughtful Religious -Essays. <i>Sq. cr. 8vo. 3s. 6d. net.</i></p> - -<p class='c019'><span class='sc'>Darwin, Bernard, and Rountree, Harry.</span> The Golf -Courses of the British Isles. 48 illustrations in colour -and 16 in sepia. <i>Sq. royal 8vo. 21s. net.</i></p> - -<p class='c019'><span class='sc'>De la Mare, Walter.</span> The Three Mulla Mulgars. A -Romance of the Great Forests. With illustrations in -colour. <i>Cr. 8vo. 5s. net.</i></p> - -<p class='c019'><span class='sc'>Desmond, G. G.</span> The Roll of the Seasons: a Book of -Nature Essays. By G. G. Desmond. With twelve -illustrations in Colour. <i>Cr. 8vo. 5s. net.</i></p> - -<p class='c019'><span class='sc'>Doughty, Chas. M.</span> Adam Cast Forth. A Poem founded -on a Judæo-Arabian Legend of Adam and Eve. <i>Cr. 8vo. -4s. 6d. net.</i></p> - -<p class='c019'>—— The Cliffs. A Poetic Drama of the Invasion of Britain -in 19—. <i>Cr. 8vo. 5s. net.</i></p> - -<p class='c019'>—— The Clouds: a Poem. <i>Large cr. 8vo. 5s. net.</i></p> - -<p class='c019'>—— The Dawn in Britain. An Epic Poem of the Beginnings -of Britain. In six vols. Vols. 1 and 2, <i>9s. net</i>; Vols. 3 -and 4, <i>9s. net</i>; Vols. 5 and 6, <i>9s. net</i>. The Set, <i>27s. net</i>.</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b c020'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'><i>See also Crown Library for another work by C. M. Doughty.</i></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c019'><span class='sc'>Fairless, Michael.</span> Complete Works. 3 vols. In slip -case. <i>Buckram gilt. 7s. 6d. net.</i></p> - -<div class='lg-container-b c020'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'><i>See also the Roadmender Series.</i></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c019'>—— The Roadmender. Illustrated in Colour by E. W. Waite. -<i>Cloth gilt, gilt top. 7s. 6d. net. In a Box.</i></p> - -<p class='c019'>—— —— Illustrated in photogravure from drawings by -W. G. Mein. In slip case. <i>5s. net.</i></p> - -<p class='c019'><span class='sc'>Falconer, Rev. Hugh.</span> The Unfinished Symphony. New -and Cheaper Edition. <i>Cr. 8vo. 2s. 6d. net.</i></p> - -<p class='c019'><span class='sc'>Gardiner, Mrs Stanley.</span> We Two and Shamus: The -Story of a Caravan Holiday in Ireland. With illustrations. -<i>Cr. 8vo. 5s. net.</i></p> - -<p class='c019'><span class='sc'>Graham, R. B. Cunninghame.</span> Charity. <i>Cr. 8vo. 6s.</i></p> - -<p class='c019'>—— Faith. <i>Cr. 8vo. 6s.</i></p> - -<p class='c019'>—— Hope. <i>Cr. 8vo. 6s.</i></p> - -<p class='c019'>—— His People. <i>Cr. 8vo. 6s.</i></p> - -<div class='lg-container-b c020'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'><i>See also Readers’ Library and Shilling Series for other books by Cunninghame Graham.</i></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c019'><span class='sc'>Headlam, Cecil.</span> Walter Headlam: Letters and Poems. -With Memoir by Cecil Headlam. With photogravure -portrait. <i>Demy 8vo. 7s. 6d. net.</i></p> - -<p class='c019'><span class='sc'>Henderson, Archibald.</span> Mark Twain. A Biography. -With 8 photographs by Alvin Langdon Coburn. <i>Large -cr. 8vo. 5s. net.</i></p> - -<p class='c019'><span class='sc'>Henderson, Archibald.</span> Interpreters of Life and the -Modern Spirit: Critical Essays. With a photogravure -portrait of Meredith. <i>Cr. 8vo. 5s. net.</i></p> - -<p class='c019'><span class='sc'>Hill, M. D., and Webb, Wilfred Mark.</span> Eton Nature-Study -and Observational Lessons. With numerous -illustrations. In two parts. <i>3s. 6d. net each.</i> Also the -two parts in one volume, <i>6s. net</i>.</p> - -<p class='c019'><span class='sc'>Hudson, W. H.</span> A Little Boy Lost. With 30 illustrations -by A. D. McCormick. <i>Sq. cr. 8vo. 3s. 6d. net.</i></p> - -<div class='lg-container-b c020'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'><i>See also Readers’ Library and Shilling Series for other books by W. H. Hudson.</i></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c019'><span class='sc'>Hueffer, Ford Madox.</span> The Critical Attitude. Literary -Essays. <i>Sq. cr. 8vo. Buckram. 5s. net.</i></p> - -<div class='lg-container-b c020'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'><i>See also Readers’ Library and The Popular Library of Art for other books by Ford Madox Hueffer.</i></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c019'>—— <span class='sc'>High Germany: Verses.</span> <i>Sq. cr. 8vo, paper covers. -1s. net.</i></p> - -<p class='c019'><span class='sc'>Hughes, Rev. G.</span> Conscience and Criticism. With Foreword -by the Bishop of Winchester. New and Cheaper -Edition. <i>Cr. 8vo. 2s. 6d. net.</i></p> - -<p class='c019'><span class='sc'>Hutchinson, T.</span> Lyrical Ballads by William Wordsworth -and S. T. Coleridge, 1798. With certain poems of 1798, -Introduction and Notes. <i>Fcap. 8vo.</i> New and Revised -Edition. With 2 photogravures. <i>3s. 6d. net.</i></p> - -<p class='c019'><span class='sc'>Huxley, Henrietta.</span> Poems: concluding with those of -Thomas Henry Huxley. <i>Fcap. 8vo. Art canvas. -3s. 6d. net.</i></p> - -<p class='c019'><span class='sc'>Jefferies, Richard.</span> The Story of My Heart. By Richard -Jefferies. A New Edition Reset. With 8 illustrations -from oil paintings by Edward W. Waite. <i>Demy 8vo.</i> -The pictures mounted with frames and plate marks. -Designed Cover. <i>Cloth gilt, gilt top, headband. In Box. -7s. 6d. net.</i></p> - -<p class='c019'><span class='sc'>Joubert, Joseph.</span> Joubert: A Selection from His Thoughts. -Translated by Katharine Lyttleton, with a Preface by -Mrs Humphry Ward. New Edition. In a slip case. -<i>Large cr. 8vo. 5s. net.</i></p> - -<p class='c019'><span class='sc'>Kropotkin, Prince.</span> Ideals and Realities in Russian -Literature. Critical Essays. By Prince Kropotkin. -<i>Demy 8vo. 7s. 6d. net.</i></p> - -<p class='c019'><span class='sc'>Langlois, Ch. V., and Seignobos, Ch.</span> An Introduction to -the Study of History. New Edition. <i>5s. net.</i></p> - -<p class='c019'><span class='sc'>Lawrence, D. H.</span> Love Poems and others. <i>Cr. 8vo. 5s. net.</i></p> - -<p class='c019'><span class='sc'>Le Gallienne, Richard.</span> Odes from the Divan of Hafiz. -Freely rendered from Literal Translations. <i>Large sq. 8vo.</i> -In slip case. <i>7s. 6d. net.</i></p> - -<p class='c019'><span class='sc'>Lethaby, W. R.</span> Westminster Abbey and the King’s Craftsmen. -With 125 illustrations, photogravure frontispiece, -and many drawings and diagrams. <i>Royal 8vo. 12s. 6d. net.</i></p> - -<p class='c019'>—— Westminster Abbey as a Coronation Church. Illustrated. -<i>Demy 8vo. 2s. 6d. net.</i></p> - -<div class='lg-container-b c020'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'><i>See also The Library of Art for “Mediæval Art” by W. R. Lethaby.</i></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c019'><span class='sc'>Loveland, J. D. E.</span> The Romance of Nice. A Descriptive -Account of Nice and its History. With illustrations. -<i>Demy 8vo. 6s. net.</i></p> - -<p class='c019'><span class='sc'>Lytton, the Hon. Mrs Neville.</span> Toy Dogs and their -Ancestors. With 300 illustrations in colour collotype, -photogravure, and half-tone. <i>4to. 30s. net.</i></p> - -<p class='c019'><span class='sc'>Mahaffy, R. P.</span> Francis Joseph the First: His Life and -Times. By R. P. Mahaffy. <i>Cr. 8vo. 2s. 6d. net.</i></p> - -<p class='c019'><span class='sc'>Mahommed, Mirza, and Rice, C. Spring.</span> Valeh and -Hadijeh. <i>Large sq. 8vo. 5s. net.</i></p> - -<p class='c019'><span class='sc'>Mantzius, Karl.</span> A History of Theatrical Art in Ancient -and Modern Times. With Introduction by William -Archer. In six volumes. With illustrations from photographs. -<i>Royal 8vo. 10s. net each vol.</i></p> - -<p class='c021'>Vol. I.—The Earliest Times. Vol. II.—Middle Ages and Renaissance. -Vol. III.—Shakespeare and the English Drama of his -Time. Vol. IV.—Molière and his Time. Vol. V.—Great -Actors of the 18th Century. Vol. VI.—<i>In preparation.</i></p> - -<p class='c022'><span class='sc'>Marczali, Henry.</span> The Letters and Journal, 1848–49, of Count -Charles Leiningen-Westerburg. <i>Demy 8vo. 7s. 6d. net.</i></p> - -<p class='c022'><span class='sc'>Marjoram, John.</span> New Poems. <i>Fcap. 8vo. 2s. net.</i></p> - -<p class='c022'><span class='sc'>Moore, T. Sturge.</span> Poems. <i>Square 8vo. Sewed. 1s. net -a volume.</i></p> - -<div class='lg-container-b c020'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'><span class='sc'>The Centaur’s Booty.</span></div> - <div class='line'><span class='sc'>The Rout of the Amazons.</span></div> - <div class='line'><span class='sc'>The Gazelles, and Other Poems.</span></div> - <div class='line'><span class='sc'>Pan’s Prophecy.</span></div> - <div class='line'><span class='sc'>To Leda, and Other Odes.</span></div> - <div class='line'><span class='sc'>Theseus, and Other Odes.</span></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> -<div class='nf-center c023'> - <div>Or, in one volume, <i>bound in art linen. 6s. net.</i></div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c022'>—— A Sicilian Idyll, and Judith. <i>Cloth. 2s. net.</i></p> - -<p class='c022'>—— Mariamne. A Drama. <i>Qr. bound. 2s. net.</i></p> - -<p class='c022'><span class='sc'>Nevill, Ralph, and Jerningham, C. E.</span> Piccadilly to -Pall Mall. Manners, Morals, and Man. With 2 photogravures. -<i>Demy 8vo. 12s. 6d. net.</i></p> - -<p class='c022'><span class='sc'>Nevill, Ralph.</span> Sporting Days and Sporting Ways. With -coloured frontispiece. <i>Demy 8vo. 12s. 6d. net.</i></p> - -<p class='c022'>—— The Merry Past. Reminiscences and Anecdotes. -With frontispiece in colour collotype. <i>Demy 8vo. -12s. 6d. net.</i></p> - -<p class='c022'><span class='sc'>Pawlowska, Yoï</span> (Mrs Buckley). A Year of Strangers. -Sketches of People and Things in Italy and in the Far -East. With copper-plate frontispiece. <i>Demy 8vo. 5s. -net.</i></p> - -<div class='lg-container-b c020'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'><i>See under Novels for another book by this author.</i></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c022'><span class='sc'>Peake</span>, Prof. A. S. Christianity, its Nature and its Truth. -<i>25th Thousand. Cr. 8vo. 2s. 6d. net.</i></p> - -<p class='c022'><span class='sc'>Phillipps, L. March.</span> The Works of Man. Studies of -race characteristics as revealed in the creative art of the -world. <i>Cr. 8vo. 7s. 6d. net.</i></p> - -<p class='c022'><span class='sc'>Plays, Modern.</span> <i>Cloth. 2s. net a volume.</i></p> - -<div class='lg-container-b c020'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'><span class='sc'>The Revolt and the Escape.</span> By Villiers de L’Isle Adam.</div> - <div class='line'><span class='sc'>Hernani.</span> A Tragedy. By Frederick Brock.</div> - <div class='line'><span class='sc'>Tristram and Iseult.</span> A Drama. By J. Comyns Carr.</div> - <div class='line'><span class='sc'>Passers-By.</span> By C. Haddon Chambers.</div> - <div class='line'><span class='sc'>The Likeness of the Night.</span> By Mrs W. K. Clifford.</div> - <div class='line'><span class='sc'>The Silver Box.</span> By John Galsworthy.</div> - <div class='line'><span class='sc'>Joy.</span> By John Galsworthy.</div> - <div class='line'><span class='sc'>Strife.</span> By John Galsworthy.</div> - <div class='line'><span class='sc'>Justice.</span> By John Galsworthy.</div> - <div class='line'><span class='sc'>The Eldest Son.</span> By John Galsworthy.</div> - <div class='line'><span class='sc'>The Little Dream.</span> By John Galsworthy. (<i>1s. 6d. net.</i>)</div> - <div class='line'><span class='sc'>The Pigeon.</span> By John Galsworthy.</div> - <div class='line'><span class='sc'>The Coming of Peace.</span> By Gerhart Hauptmann.</div> - <div class='line'><span class='sc'>Love’s Comedy.</span> By Henrik Ibsen.</div> - <div class='line'><span class='sc'>The Divine Gift.</span> A Play. By Henry Arthur Jones. With an Introduction and a Portrait. (<i>3s. 6d. net.</i>)</div> - <div class='line'><span class='sc'>Peter’s Chance.</span> A Play. By Edith Lyttelton.</div> - <div class='line'><span class='sc'>The Secret Woman.</span> A Drama. By Eden Phillpots.</div> - <div class='line'><span class='sc'>Curtain Raisers.</span> One Act Plays. By Eden Phillpots.</div> - <div class='line'><span class='sc'>The Father.</span> By August Strindberg.</div> - <div class='line'><span class='sc'>Creditors. Pariah.</span> Two Plays. By August Strindberg.</div> - <div class='line'><span class='sc'>Miss Julia. The Stronger.</span> Two Plays. By August Strindberg.</div> - <div class='line'><span class='sc'>There are Crimes and Crimes.</span> By August Strindberg.</div> - <div class='line'><span class='sc'>Roses.</span> Four One Act Plays. By Hermann Sudermann.</div> - <div class='line'><span class='sc'>Morituri.</span> Three One Act Plays. By Hermann Sudermann.</div> - <div class='line'><span class='sc'>Five Little Plays.</span> By Alfred Sutro.</div> - <div class='line'><span class='sc'>The Dawn</span> (Les Aubes). By Emile Verhaeren. Translated by Arthur Symons.</div> - <div class='line'><span class='sc'>The Princess of Hanover.</span> By Margaret L. Woods.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c022'>The following may also be had in paper covers. Price -<i>1s. 6d. net a volume.</i></p> - -<div class='lg-container-b c020'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'><span class='sc'>Tristram and Iseult.</span> By J. Comyns Carr. (<i>Paper boards.</i>)</div> - <div class='line'><span class='sc'>Passers-By.</span> By C. Haddon Chambers.</div> - <div class='line'><span class='sc'>The Likeness of the Night.</span> By Mrs W. K. Clifford.</div> - <div class='line'><span class='sc'>The Silver Box.</span> By John Galsworthy.</div> - <div class='line'><span class='sc'>Joy.</span> By John Galsworthy.</div> - <div class='line'><span class='sc'>Strife.</span> By John Galsworthy.</div> - <div class='line'><span class='sc'>Justice.</span> By John Galsworthy.</div> - <div class='line'><span class='sc'>The Eldest Son.</span> By John Galsworthy.</div> - <div class='line'><span class='sc'>The Little Dream.</span> By John Galsworthy. (<i>1s. net.</i>)</div> - <div class='line'><span class='sc'>The Pigeon.</span> By John Galsworthy.</div> - <div class='line'><span class='sc'>Peter’s Chance.</span> By Edith Lyttelton.</div> - <div class='line'><span class='sc'>Curtain Raisers.</span> By Eden Phillpotts.</div> - <div class='line'><span class='sc'>The Secret Woman.</span> A Censored Drama. By Eden Phillpotts.</div> - <div class='line'><span class='sc'>Five Little Plays.</span> By Alfred Sutro.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c022'><span class='sc'>Plays.</span> By Bjornstjerne Bjornson. (The Gauntlet, Beyond -our Power, The New System.) With an Introduction -and Bibliography. In one vol. <i>Cr. 8vo. 6s.</i></p> - -<p class='c022'><span class='sc'>Three Plays.</span> By Mrs W. K. Clifford. (Hamilton’s Second -Marriage, Thomas and the Princess, The Modern Way.) -In one vol. <i>Sq. post 8vo. 6s.</i></p> - -<p class='c022'><span class='sc'>Plays</span> (Volume One). By John Galsworthy. Three Plays -(Joy, Strife, The Silver Box) in one vol. <i>Post 8vo. 6s.</i></p> - -<p class='c022'><span class='sc'>Plays</span> (Volume Two). By John Galsworthy. Three Plays -(Justice, The Little Dream, The Eldest Son) in one -vol. <i>Small sq. post 8vo. 6s.</i></p> - -<p class='c022'><span class='sc'>Plays.</span> (First Series.) By August Strindberg. (The Dream -Play, The Link, The Dance of Death, Part I.; The -Dance of Death, Part II.) In one vol. <i>Cr. 8vo. 6s.</i></p> - -<p class='c022'><span class='sc'>Plays.</span> (Second Series.) By August Strindberg. (Creditors, -Pariah, There are Crimes and Crimes, Miss Julia, The -Stronger.) In one volume. <i>6s.</i></p> - -<p class='c022'><span class='sc'>Plays.</span> (Third Series.) By August Strindberg. (Advent, -Simoom, Swan White, Debit and Credit, The Spook -Sonata, The Black Glove.) <i>Cr. 8vo. 6s.</i></p> - -<p class='c022'><span class='sc'>Plays.</span> By Anton Tchekoff. (Uncle Vanya, Ivanoff, The -Seagull, The Swan Song.) With an Introduction. -<i>Cr. 8vo. 6s.</i></p> - -<p class='c022'><span class='sc'>Reid, Stuart J.</span> Sir Richard Tangye. A Life. With a -portrait. Cheaper re-issue. <i>Cr. 8vo. 2s. 6d. net.</i></p> - -<p class='c022'><span class='sc'>Roadmender Series, The.</span> The volumes in the series are -works with the same tendency as Michael Fairless’s -remarkable book, from which the series gets its name: -books which express a deep feeling for Nature, and a -mystical interpretation of life. <i>Fcap. 8vo, with designed -end papers. 2s. 6d. net.</i></p> - -<div class='lg-container-b c020'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'><span class='sc'>Women of the Country.</span> By Gertrude Bone.</div> - <div class='line'><span class='sc'>The Sea Charm of Venice.</span> By Stopford A. Brooke.</div> - <div class='line'><span class='sc'>Magic Casements.</span> By Arthur S. Cripps.</div> - <div class='line'><span class='sc'>Thoughts of Leonardo da Vinci.</span> Selected by Edward McCurdy.</div> - <div class='line'><span class='sc'>The Roadmender.</span> By Michael Fairless. Also in <i>limp lambskin, 3s. 6d. Velvet calf yapp, 5s. net.</i> Illustrated Black and White Edition, <i>cr. 8vo, 5s. net</i>. Also Special Illustrated edition in colour from oil paintings by E. W. Waite, <i>7s. 6d. net.</i> Edition de Luxe, <i>15s. net</i>.</div> - <div class='line'><span class='sc'>The Gathering of Brother Hilarius.</span> By Michael Fairless. Also <i>limp lambskin, 3s. 6d. net. Velvet calf yapp, 5s. net.</i></div> - <div class='line'><span class='sc'>The Grey Brethren.</span> By Michael Fairless. Also <i>limp lambskin, 3s. 6d. net. Velvet calf yapp, 5s. net.</i></div> - <div class='line'><span class='sc'>Michael Fairless: Life and Writings.</span> By W. Scott Palmer and A. M. Haggard.</div> - <div class='line'><span class='sc'>A Modern Mystic’s Way.</span> (Dedicated to Michael Fairless.)</div> - <div class='line'><span class='sc'>From the Forest.</span> By Wm. Scott Palmer.</div> - <div class='line'><span class='sc'>Pilgrim Man.</span> By Wm. Scott Palmer.</div> - <div class='line'><span class='sc'>Winter and Spring.</span> By W. Scott Palmer.</div> - <div class='line'><span class='sc'>Vagrom Men.</span> By A. T. Story.</div> - <div class='line'><span class='sc'>Light and Twilight.</span> By Edward Thomas.</div> - <div class='line'><span class='sc'>Rest and Unrest.</span> By Edward Thomas.</div> - <div class='line'><span class='sc'>Rose Acre Papers</span>: including <span class='sc'>Horæ Solitariæ</span>. By Edward Thomas.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c022'><span class='sc'>Rosen, Erwin.</span> In the Foreign Legion. A record of actual -experiences in the French Foreign Legion. <i>Demy 8vo.</i> -New and Cheaper Edition. <i>3s. 6d. net.</i></p> - -<p class='c022'><span class='sc'>Social Questions Series.</span></p> - -<p class='c021'><span class='sc'>Makers of Our Clothes.</span> A Case for Trade Boards. By Miss -Clementina Black and Lady Carl Meyer. <i>Demy 8vo. 5s. net.</i></p> - -<p class='c021'><span class='sc'>Sweated Industry and the Minimum Wage.</span> By Clementina -<span class='sc'>Black</span>. With Preface by A. G. Gardiner. <i>Cloth, crown 8vo. -2s. net.</i></p> - -<p class='c021'><span class='sc'>Women in Industry: From Seven Points of View.</span> With -Introduction by D. J. Shackleton. <i>Cloth, crown 8vo. 2s. net.</i></p> - -<p class='c021'><span class='sc'>The Worker’s Handbook.</span> By Gertrude M. Tuckwell. A handbook -of legal and general information for the Clergy for District -Visitors, and all Social Workers. <i>Cr. 8vo. 2s. net.</i></p> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> -<div class='nf-center c004'> - <div><span class='xlarge'>READERS’ LIBRARY, THE.</span></div> - <div class='c003'><i>Copyright Works of Individual Merit and Permanent Value by Authors of Repute.</i></div> - <div class='c003'>Library style. <i>Cr. 8vo. Blue cloth gilt, round backs. 2s. 6d. net a volume.</i></div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c024'><span class='sc'>Avril.</span> By Hilaire Belloc. Essays -on the Poetry of the French -Renaissance.</p> - -<p class='c019'><span class='sc'>Esto Perpetua.</span> By Hilaire Belloc. -Algerian Studies and Impressions.</p> - -<p class='c019'><span class='sc'>Men, Women, and Books: Res -Judicatæ.</span> By Augustine Birrell. -Complete in one vol.</p> - -<p class='c019'><span class='sc'>Obiter Dicta.</span> By Augustine -Birrell. First and Second Series -in one volume.</p> - -<p class='c019'><span class='sc'>Memoirs of a Surrey -Labourer.</span> By George Bourne.</p> - -<p class='c019'><span class='sc'>The Bettesworth Book.</span> By -George Bourne.</p> - -<p class='c019'><span class='sc'>Studies in Poetry.</span> By Stopford -A. Brooke, LL.D. Essays on -Blake, Scott, Shelley, Keats, etc.</p> - -<p class='c019'><span class='sc'>Four Poets.</span> By Stopford A. -Brooke, LL.D. Essays on -Clough, Arnold, Rossetti, and -Morris.</p> - -<p class='c019'><span class='sc'>Comparative Studies in Nursery -Rhymes.</span> By Lina Eckenstein. -Essays in a branch of -Folk-lore.</p> - -<p class='c019'><span class='sc'>Italian Poets since Dante.</span> -Critical Essays. By W. Everett.</p> - -<p class='c019'><span class='sc'>Villa Rubein, and Other -Stories.</span> By John Galsworthy.</p> - -<p class='c019'><span class='sc'>Faith and other Sketches.</span> -By R. B. Cunninghame Graham.</p> - -<p class='c019'><span class='sc'>Progress, and Other Sketches.</span> -By R. B. Cunninghame Graham.</p> - -<p class='c019'><span class='sc'>Success: and Other Sketches.</span> -By R. B. Cunninghame Grahame.</p> - -<p class='c019'><span class='sc'>A Crystal Age</span>: a Romance -of the Future. By W. H. -Hudson.</p> - -<p class='c019'><span class='sc'>Green Mansions.</span> A Romance -of the Tropical Forest. By W. H. -Hudson.</p> - -<p class='c019'><span class='sc'>The Purple Land.</span> By W. H. -Hudson.</p> - -<p class='c019'><span class='sc'>The Heart of the Country.</span> -By Ford Madox Hueffer.</p> - -<p class='c019'><span class='sc'>The Soul of London.</span> By Ford -Madox Hueffer.</p> - -<p class='c019'><span class='sc'>The Spirit of the People.</span> By -Ford Madox Hueffer.</p> - -<p class='c019'><span class='sc'>After London—Wild England.</span> -By Richard Jefferies.</p> - -<p class='c019'><span class='sc'>Amaryllis at the Fair.</span> By -Richard Jefferies.</p> - -<p class='c019'><span class='sc'>Bevis.</span> The Story of a Boy. By -Richard Jefferies.</p> - -<p class='c019'><span class='sc'>The Hills and the Vale.</span> -Nature Essays. By Richard -Jefferies.</p> - -<p class='c019'><span class='sc'>The Greatest Life.</span> An inquiry -into the foundations of character. -By Gerald Leighton, M.D.</p> - -<p class='c019'><span class='sc'>St Augustine and his Age.</span> -An Interpretation. By Joseph -McCabe.</p> - -<p class='c019'><span class='sc'>Between the Acts.</span> By H. W. -Nevinson.</p> - -<p class='c019'><span class='sc'>Essays.</span> By Coventry Patmore.</p> - -<p class='c019'><span class='sc'>Essays in Freedom.</span> By H. W. -Nevinson.</p> - -<p class='c019'><span class='sc'>Parallel Paths.</span> A Study in -Biology, Ethics, and Art. By -T. W. Rolleston.</p> - -<p class='c019'><span class='sc'>The Strenuous Life, and Other -Essays.</span> By Theodore Roosevelt.</p> - -<p class='c019'><span class='sc'>English Literature and -Society in the Eighteenth -Century.</span> By Sir Leslie -Stephen.</p> - -<p class='c019'><span class='sc'>Studies of a Biographer.</span> First -Series. Two Volumes. By Sir -Leslie Stephen.</p> - -<p class='c019'><span class='sc'>Studies of a Biographer.</span> -Second Series. Two Volumes. -By Sir Leslie Stephen.</p> - -<p class='c019'><span class='sc'>Interludes.</span> By Sir Geo. Trevelyan.</p> - -<p class='c019'><span class='sc'>Essays on Dante.</span> By Dr Carl -Witte.</p> - -<p class='c019'><span class='sc'>Duckworth’s Shilling Net Series.</span> <i>Cloth, cr. 8vo.</i></p> - -<div class='lg-container-b c020'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'><span class='sc'>Caliban’s Guide to Letters.</span> By Hilaire Belloc.</div> - <div class='line'><span class='sc'>The Brassbounder</span>: a Tale of Seamen’s Life in Sailing Ship. By David W. Bone.</div> - <div class='line'><span class='sc'>Wrack</span>: a Story of Salvage Work at Sea. By Maurice Drake.</div> - <div class='line'><span class='sc'>South American Sketches.</span> By W. H. Hudson.</div> - <div class='line'><span class='sc'>Stories from De Maupassant.</span></div> - <div class='line'><span class='sc'>Success.</span> By R. B. Cunninghame Graham.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c019'><span class='sc'>Smalley, George W.</span> Anglo-American Memories. First -Series (American). With a photogravure frontispiece. -<i>Demy 8vo. 12s. 6d. net.</i></p> - -<p class='c019'>—— Second Series (English). <i>Demy 8vo. 12s. 6d. net.</i></p> - -<p class='c019'><span class='sc'>Spielmann</span>, Mrs M. H., and <span class='sc'>Wilhelm, C.</span> The Child of -the Air. A Romantic Fantasy. Illustrated in colour -and in line. <i>Sq. cr. 8vo. 5s. net</i></p> - -<p class='c019'><span class='sc'>Stephen, H. L.</span> State Trials: Political and Social First -Series. Selected and edited by H. L. Stephen. With -two photogravures. Two vols. <i>Fcap. 8vo. Art vellum, -gilt top. 5s. net.</i></p> - -<p class='c021'>Vol. I.—Sir Walter Raleigh—Charles I.—The Regicides—Colonel Turner and Others—The Suffolk Witches—Alice Lisle. Vol. II.—Lord Russell—The Earl of Warwick—Spencer Cowper and Others—Samuel Goodere and Others.</p> - -<p class='c022'>—— State Trials: Political and Social. Second Series. -Selected and edited by H. L. Stephen. With two -photogravures. Two vols. <i>Fcap. 8vo. 5s. net.</i></p> - -<p class='c021'>Vol. I.—The Earl of Essex—Captain Lee—John Perry—Green and Others—Count Coningsmark—Beau Fielding. Vol. II.—Annesley—Carter—Macdaniell—Bernard—Byron.</p> - -<p class='c022'><span class='sc'>Stopford, Francis.</span> Life’s Great Adventure. Essays. By -Francis Stopford, author of “The Toil of Life.” <i>Cr. -8vo. Cloth. 5s. net.</i></p> - -<div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> -<div class='nf-center c002'> - <div>STUDIES IN THEOLOGY.</div> - </div> -</div> - -</div> -<p class='c019'>A New Series of Handbooks, being aids to interpretation in -Biblical Criticism for the use of the Clergy, Divinity -Students, and Laymen. <i>Cr. 8vo. 2s. 6d. net a volume.</i></p> - -<p class='c021'><span class='sc'>The Christian Hope.</span> A Study in the Doctrine of the Last Things. -By W. Adams Brown, D.D., Professor of Theology in the Union -College, New York.</p> - -<p class='c021'><span class='sc'>Christianity and Social Questions.</span> By the Rev. William -Cunningham, D.D., F.B.A., Archdeacon of Ely. Formerly -Lecturer on Economic History to Harvard University.</p> - -<p class='c021'><span class='sc'>A Handbook of Christian Apologetics.</span> By the Rev. Alfred -Ernest Garvie, M.A., Hon. D.D., Glasgow University, Principal -of New College, Hampstead.</p> - -<p class='c021'><span class='sc'>A Critical Introduction to the Old Testament.</span> By the Rev. -George Buchanan Gray, M.A., D.Litt.</p> - -<p class='c021'><span class='sc'>Gospel Origins.</span> A Study in the Synoptic Problem. By the Rev. W. -W. Holdsworth, M.A., Tutor in New Testament Language and -Literature, Handworth College, Birmingham.</p> - -<p class='c021'><span class='sc'>Faith and its Psychology.</span> By the Rev. William R. Inge, D.D., -Dean of St Paul’s.</p> - -<p class='c021'><span class='sc'>Protestant Thought before Kant.</span> By A. C. McGiffert, Ph.D., -D.D., of the Union Theological Seminary, New York.</p> - -<p class='c021'><span class='sc'>The Theology of the Gospels.</span> By the Rev. James Moffat, B.D., -D.D., of the U.F. Church of Scotland, sometime Jowett Lecturer -in London, author of “The Historical New Testament,” -“Literary Illustrations of the Bible,” etc.</p> - -<p class='c021'><span class='sc'>A History of Christian Thought since Kant.</span> By the Rev. -Edward Caldwell Moore, D.D., Parkman Professor of Theology -in the University of Harvard, U.S.A.</p> - -<p class='c021'><span class='sc'>Revelation and Inspiration.</span> By the Rev. James Orr, D.D., -Professor of Apologetics in the Theological College of the United -Free Church, Glasgow.</p> - -<p class='c021'><span class='sc'>A Critical Introduction to the New Testament.</span> By Arthur -Samuel Peake, D.D., Professor of Biblical Exegesis and Dean of -the Faculty of Theology, Victoria University, Manchester.</p> - -<p class='c021'><span class='sc'>Philosophy and Religion.</span> By the Rev. Hastings Rashdall, -D.Litt. (Oxon.), D.C.L. (Durham), F.B.A., Fellow and Tutor -of New College, Oxford.</p> - -<p class='c021'><span class='sc'>Text and Canon of the New Testament.</span> By Prof. Alexander -Souter, M.A., D.Litt., Professor of Humanity, Aberdeen -University.</p> - -<p class='c021'><span class='sc'>Christian Thought to the Reformation.</span> By Herbert B. Workman, -D.Litt., Principal of the Westminster Training College.</p> - -<hr class='c025' /> - -<p class='c022'><span class='sc'>Tomlinson, H. M.</span> The Sea and the Jungle. Personal experiences -in a voyage to South America and through the -Amazon forests. By H. M. Tomlinson. <i>Demy 8vo. -7s. 6d. net.</i></p> - -<p class='c022'><span class='sc'>Toselli, Enrico.</span> Memoirs of the Husband of an Ex-Crown -Princess. By Enrico Toselli (Husband of the -Ex-Crown Princess of Saxony). With a portrait. <i>Cloth -gilt, gilt top. Demy 8vo. 10s. 6d. net.</i></p> - -<p class='c022'><span class='sc'>Vaughan, Herbert M.</span> The Last Stuart Queen: Louise, -Countess of Albany. A Life. With illustrations and -portraits. <i>Demy 8vo. 16s. net.</i></p> - -<p class='c022'><span class='sc'>Waern, Cecilia.</span> Mediæval Sicily. Aspects of Life and -Art in the Middle Ages. With very many illustrations. -<i>Royal 8vo. 12s. 6d. net.</i></p> - -<p class='c022'><span class='sc'>Waynflete, Zachary.</span> Considerations. Essays. Edited -by Ian Malcolm, M.P. <i>Cr. 8vo. Parchment yapp -binding. 2s. 6d. net.</i></p> - -<p class='c022'><span class='sc'>Williams, Alfred.</span> A Wiltshire Village. A Study of -English Rural Village Life. <i>Cr. 8vo. 5s. net.</i></p> - -<p class='c022'>—— Villages of the White House. <i>Cr. 8vo. 5s. net.</i></p> - -<div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> -<div class='nf-center c002'> - <div>NOVELS AND STORIES</div> - </div> -</div> - -</div> -<p class='c019'><span class='sc'>Anonymous.</span> The Diary of an English Girl. <i>Cr. 8vo. 6s.</i></p> - -<p class='c019'><span class='sc'>Behrens, R. G.</span> Pebble. A Novel. <i>Cr. 8vo. 6s.</i></p> - -<p class='c019'><span class='sc'>Bone, David W.</span> The Brassbounder. A tale of seamen’s -life in a sailing ship. With illustrations by the Author. -<i>Cr. 8vo. 6s.</i> Also <i>1s. net</i> edition.</p> - -<p class='c019'><span class='sc'>Bone, Gertrude.</span> Provincial Tales. With frontispiece by -Muirhead Bone. <i>Cr. 8vo. 6s.</i></p> - -<div class='lg-container-b c020'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'><i>See also Roadmender Series for another book by Mrs Bone.</i></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c019'><span class='sc'>Bone, Muirhead</span> and <span class='sc'>Gertrude</span>. Children’s Children. A -Tale. With 60 drawings by Muirhead Bone. <i>Large -Cr. 8vo. 6s. net.</i> [Vellum Edition, limited to 250 -copies, signed and numbered. <i>25s. net.</i>]</p> - -<p class='c019'><span class='sc'>Brookfield, Chas. H.</span> Jack Goldie: the Boy who knew -best. Illustrated by A. E. Jackson. <i>Cr. 8vo. 3s. 6d.</i></p> - -<p class='c019'><span class='sc'>Brown, Vincent.</span> A Magdalen’s Husband. A Novel. -Fourth Impression. <i>Cr. 8vo. 6s.</i></p> - -<p class='c019'>—— The Dark Ship. A Novel. <i>Cr. 8vo. 6s.</i></p> - -<p class='c019'>—— The Disciple’s Wife. A Novel. <i>Cr. 8vo. 6s.</i></p> - -<p class='c019'>—— The Sacred Cup. A Novel. <i>Cr. 8vo. 6s.</i></p> - -<p class='c019'><span class='sc'>Calthrop, Dion Clayton.</span> King Peter. A Novel. With a -Frontispiece. <i>Cr. 8vo. 6s.</i></p> - -<div class='lg-container-b c020'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'><i>See also Duckworth’s Two Shilling Net Novels for another book by Dion Clayton Calthrop.</i></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c019'><span class='sc'>Cautley, C. Holmes.</span> The Weaving of the Shuttle. A -Yorkshire Novel. <i>Cr. 8vo. 6s.</i></p> - -<p class='c019'><span class='sc'>Clifford</span>, Mrs <span class='fss'>W. K.</span> Woodside Farm. A Novel. <i>Cr. -8vo. 6s.</i></p> - -<p class='c019'><span class='sc'>Connolly, J. B.</span> Wide Courses: Tales of the Sea. Illustrated. -<i>Cr. 8vo. 6s.</i></p> - -<div class='lg-container-b c020'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'><i>See also Duckworth’s Two Shilling Net Novels.</i></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c019'><span class='sc'>Davies, Ernest.</span> The Widow’s Necklace. A Tale. <i>Cr. 8vo. 6s.</i></p> - -<p class='c019'><span class='sc'>Davies, W. H.</span> Beggars. Personal Experiences of Tramp -Life. <i>Cr. 8vo. 6s.</i></p> - -<p class='c019'>—— A Weak Woman. A Novel. <i>Cr. 8vo. 6s.</i></p> - -<p class='c019'>—— The True Traveller. A Tramp’s Experiences. <i>Cr. -8vo. 6s.</i></p> - -<p class='c019'><span class='sc'>Davis, Richard Harding.</span> Once upon a Time. Stories. -Illustrated. <i>Cr. 8vo. 6s.</i></p> - -<p class='c019'>—— The Man who could not Lose. Stories. Illustrated. -<i>Cr. 8vo. 6s.</i></p> - -<p class='c019'>—— The Red Cross Girl. Stories. Illustrated. <i>Cr. 8vo. 6s.</i></p> - -<p class='c019'><span class='sc'>De Silva, A.</span> Rainbow Lights: Letters Descriptive of -American and Canadian Types. <i>Cr. 8vo. 6s.</i></p> - -<p class='c019'><span class='sc'>Dodge, Janet.</span> Tony Unregenerate. A Novel. <i>Cr. 8vo. 6s.</i></p> - -<p class='c019'><span class='sc'>Drake, Maurice.</span> Wrack. A Tale of the Sea. <i>Cr. 8vo. -6s.</i> Also <i>1s. net</i> edition.</p> - -<p class='c019'><span class='sc'>East, H. Clayton.</span> The Breath of the Desert. A Novel of -Egypt. <i>Cr. 8vo. 6s.</i></p> - -<p class='c019'><span class='sc'>Fedden</span>, Mrs <span class='sc'>Romilly</span>. The Spare Room: An Extravaganza. -<i>Cr. 8vo. 6s.</i></p> - -<p class='c019'><span class='sc'>Filippi, Rosina.</span> Bernardine. A Novel. <i>Cr. 8vo. 6s.</i></p> - -<p class='c019'><span class='sc'>Fogazzaro, Antonio.</span> The Poet’s Mystery. A Novel. <i>Cr. -8vo. 6s.</i></p> - -<p class='c019'><span class='sc'>Forbes, Lady Helen.</span> It’s a Way they have in the Army. -A Novel. <i>Cr. 8vo. 6s.</i></p> - -<p class='c019'>—— The Bounty of the Gods. A Novel.</p> - -<p class='c019'>—— The Polar Star. A Novel. <i>Cr. 8vo. 6s.</i></p> - -<p class='c019'><span class='sc'>Garnett</span>, Mrs R. S. Amor Vincit. A Romance of the -Staffordshire Moorlands. <i>Cr. 8vo. 6s.</i></p> - -<div class='lg-container-b c020'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'><i>See also Duckworth’s Two Shilling Net Novels for another Novel by Mrs Garnett.</i></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c019'><span class='sc'>Garshin, W.</span> The Signal, and other Stories. Translated -from the Russian.</p> - -<p class='c019'><span class='sc'>Glyn, Elinor.</span> Beyond the Rocks. A Love Story. <i>Cr. -8vo. 6s.</i> Also <i>1s. net</i> edition.</p> - -<p class='c019'>—— Halcyone. A Novel. <i>Cr. 8vo. 6s.</i></p> - -<p class='c019'>—— His Hour. A Novel. With a photogravure frontispiece. -<i>Cr. 8vo. 6s.</i> Also <i>1s. net</i> edition.</p> - -<p class='c019'>—— The Vicissitudes of Evangeline. With Coloured -Frontispiece. <i>Cr. 8vo, 6s.</i> Also an edition in <i>paper -covers</i>. <i>1s. net.</i></p> - -<p class='c019'>—— Reflections of Ambrosine. With Coloured Frontispiece. -<i>Cr. 8vo. 6s.</i></p> - -<div class='lg-container-b c020'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'><i>See also Duckworth’s Two Shilling Net Novels.</i></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c019'>—— Three Weeks. A Romance. With Coloured Frontispiece. -<i>Cr. 8vo. 6s.</i></p> - -<p class='c019'>—— The Visits of Elizabeth. With Photogravure Frontispiece. -<i>Cr. 8vo. 6s.</i> Also <i>1s. net</i> edition.</p> - -<p class='c019'><span class='sc'>Glyn, Elinor.</span> Elizabeth Visits America. With a Photogravure -Frontispiece. <i>Cr. 8vo. 6s.</i></p> - -<div class='lg-container-b c020'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'><i>See also Duckworth’s Two Shilling Net Novels.</i></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c019'>—— The Damsel and the Sage: A Woman’s Whimsies. -With a Photogravure Portrait. <i>Cr. 8vo.</i> In slip case. -<i>5s. net.</i></p> - -<p class='c019'>—— Sayings of Grandmamma. From the Writings of -Elinor Glyn. <i>Fcap. 8vo.</i> With Photogravure Portrait. -<i>Persian yapp. 2s. 6d. net. Also in parchment. 1s. net.</i></p> - -<p class='c019'>—— The Reason Why. With Frontispiece in Colour. -<i>Cr. 8vo. 6s.</i></p> - -<p class='c019'>—— The Contrast. Stories.</p> - -<p class='c019'>—— The Sequence. A Novel. With a Frontispiece.</p> - -<p class='c019'><span class='sc'>Gorky, Maxim.</span> The Spy. A Tale. By Maxim Gorky. -<i>Cr. 8vo. 6s.</i></p> - -<p class='c019'>—— Twenty-six Men and a Girl. Stories. <i>Cr. 8vo. -Cloth. 2s. net.</i></p> - -<p class='c019'><span class='sc'>Hayter, Adrian.</span> The Profitable Imbroglio. A Tale of -Mystery. <i>Cr. 8vo. 6s.</i></p> - -<p class='c019'><span class='sc'>Holmes, Arthur H.</span> Twinkle. A Novel. <i>Cr. 8vo. 6s.</i></p> - -<p class='c019'><span class='sc'>Horlick, Jittie.</span> A String of Beads. A Novel. Illustrated -in Colour. <i>Cr. 8vo. 6s.</i></p> - -<p class='c019'>—— Jewels in Brass. A Novel. <i>Cr. 8vo. 6s.</i></p> - -<p class='c019'><span class='sc'>Johnson, Cecil Ross.</span> The Trader: A Venture in New -Guinea. A Novel. <i>Cr. 8vo. 6s.</i></p> - -<p class='c019'><span class='sc'>Lawrence, D. H.</span> The Trespasser. A Novel. <i>Cr. 8vo. 6s.</i></p> - -<p class='c019'>—— Sons and Lovers. A Novel. <i>Cr. 8vo. 6s.</i></p> - -<p class='c019'><span class='sc'>Lipsett, E. R.</span> Didy: The Story of an Irish Girl. -<i>Cr. 8vo. 6s.</i></p> - -<p class='c019'><span class='sc'>Maclagan, Bridget.</span> The Mistress of Kingdoms. A Novel. -<i>Cr. 8vo. 6s.</i></p> - -<p class='c019'>—— Collision: an Anglo-Indian Tale. <i>Cr. 8vo. 6s.</i></p> - -<p class='c019'><span class='sc'>Maud, Constance Elizabeth.</span> Angelique: le p’tit Chou. -A Story. <i>Cr. 8vo. 6s.</i></p> - -<div class='lg-container-b c020'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'><i>See also Two Shilling Net Novels for another book by Miss Maud.</i></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c019'><span class='sc'>Maupassant, Guy de.</span> Yvette, and other Stories. Translated -by A. G. <i>Cr. 8vo. 6s.</i></p> - -<div class='lg-container-b c020'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'><i>See also Shilling Net Library for another volume of Maupassant.</i></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c019'><span class='sc'>Monkhouse, Allan.</span> Dying Fires. A Novel. <i>Cr. 8vo. 6s.</i></p> - -<p class='c019'><span class='sc'>Napier, Rosamond.</span> The Faithful Failure. A Novel of the -Open Air. <i>Cr. 8vo. 6s.</i></p> - -<p class='c019'>—— The Heart of a Gypsy. A Novel. <i>Cr. 8vo. 6s.</i></p> - -<p class='c019'><span class='sc'>Nikto Vera.</span> A Mere Woman. A Novel of Russian -Society Life. <i>Cr. 8vo. 6s.</i></p> - -<p class='c019'><span class='sc'>Pawlowska, Yoï.</span> Those that Dream. A Novel of Life in -Rome To-day. <i>Cr. 8vo. 6s.</i></p> - -<p class='c019'><span class='sc'>Phayre, Ignatius.</span> Love o’ the Skies. A Novel of North -Africa.</p> - -<p class='c019'><span class='sc'>Roberts, Helen.</span> Old Brent’s Daughter. <i>Cr. 8vo. 6s.</i></p> - -<p class='c019'>—— Something New. A Novel. <i>Cr. 8vo. 6s.</i></p> - -<p class='c019'><span class='sc'>Schofield</span>, Mrs S. R. Elizabeth, Betsy, and Bess. A Tale. -<i>Cr. 8vo. 6s.</i></p> - -<p class='c019'>—— I Don’t Know. A “Psychic” Novel. <i>Cr. 8vo. 6s.</i></p> - -<p class='c019'>“<span class='sc'>Shway Dinga.</span>” Wholly without Morals. A Novel of -Indo-Burman Life. <i>Cr. 8vo. 6s.</i></p> - -<p class='c019'>—— The Repentance of Destiny. A Novel. <i>Cr. 8vo. 6s.</i></p> - -<p class='c019'><span class='sc'>Tchekhoff, Anton.</span> The Kiss: Stories. <i>Cr. 8vo. 6s.</i></p> - -<p class='c019'><span class='sc'>Travers, John.</span> Sahib Log. A Novel of Regimental Life -in India. <i>Cr. 8vo. 6s.</i></p> - -<p class='c019'>—— In the World of Bewilderment. A Novel. <i>Cr. 8vo. 6s.</i></p> - -<p class='c019'><span class='sc'>Tylee, E. S.</span> The Witch Ladder. A Somerset Story. -<i>Cr. 8vo. 6s.</i></p> - -<p class='c019'><span class='sc'>Vaughan, Owen</span> (Owen Rhoscomyl). A Scout’s Story. A -Tale of Adventure. Illustrated. <i>Cr. 8vo. 2s. 6d.</i></p> - -<p class='c019'>—— Isle Raven. A Welsh Novel. <i>Cr. 8vo. 6s.</i></p> - -<p class='c019'>—— Old Fireproof: Being the Chaplain’s Story of Certain -Events in the South African War. <i>Cr. 8vo. 6s.</i></p> - -<p class='c019'>—— Sweet Rogues. A Romance. <i>Cr. 8vo. 6s.</i></p> - -<div class='lg-container-b c020'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'><i>See also Duckworth’s Two Shilling Net Novels for another book by Owen Vaughan.</i></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c019'><span class='sc'>Duckworth’s Series of Popular Novels.</span> <i>2s. net.</i></p> - -<div class='lg-container-b c020'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'><span class='sc'>The Prodigal Nephew.</span> By Bertram Atkey.</div> - <div class='line'><span class='sc'>The Dance of Love.</span> By Dion Clayton Calthrop.</div> - <div class='line'><span class='sc'>Woodside Farm.</span> By Mrs W. K. Clifford.</div> - <div class='line'><span class='sc'>The Crested Seas.</span> By James B. Conolly. Illustrated.</div> - <div class='line'><span class='sc'>The Infamous John Friend.</span> By Mrs R. S. Garnett.</div> - <div class='line'><span class='sc'>Elizabeth visits America.</span> By Elinor Glyn.</div> - <div class='line'><span class='sc'>Reflections of Ambrosine.</span> By Elinor Glyn.</div> - <div class='line'><span class='sc'>A Motor-Car Divorce.</span> By Louise Hale. Illustrated.</div> - <div class='line'><span class='sc'>No Surrender.</span> By Constance Elizabeth Maud.</div> - <div class='line'><span class='sc'>The Secret Kingdom.</span> By Frank Richardson.</div> - <div class='line'><span class='sc'>Vronina.</span> By Owen Vaughan. With Coloured Frontispiece.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> -<div class='nf-center c004'> - <div><span class='xlarge'>BOOKS ON APPROVAL</span></div> - <div class='c003'><span class='sc'>Messrs</span> DUCKWORTH & CO.’s Publications may be obtained through any good bookseller. Anyone desiring to examine a volume should order it subject to approval. The bookseller can obtain it from the publishers on this condition.</div> - <div class='c003'><i>The following Special Lists and Catalogues will be sent Post Free on request to any address</i>:—</div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c024'>A GENERAL CATALOGUE OF PUBLICATIONS</p> - -<p class='c019'>A COLOURED PROSPECTUS OF NEW ILLUSTRATED -CHILDREN’S BOOKS</p> - -<p class='c019'>A DESCRIPTIVE LIST OF “THE READERS’ LIBRARY”</p> - -<p class='c019'>A DESCRIPTIVE LIST OF “THE LIBRARY OF ART” -AND “THE POPULAR LIBRARY OF ART”</p> - -<p class='c019'>A DESCRIPTIVE LIST OF “THE CROWN LIBRARY”</p> - -<p class='c019'>A DESCRIPTIVE LIST OF “THE SAINTS SERIES”</p> - -<p class='c019'>A LIST OF THEOLOGICAL WORKS</p> - -<p class='c019'>AND FULL PROSPECTUSES OF “THE ROADMENDER -SERIES” AND “MODERN PLAYS”</p> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> - <div class='nf-center'> - <div>DUCKWORTH & COMPANY</div> - <div class='c003'>3 HENRIETTA STREET, COVENT GARDEN, LONDON</div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='pbb'> - <hr class='pb c003' /> -</div> -<div class='tnotes x-ebookmaker'> - -<div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> -<div class='nf-center c004'> - <div>TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES</div> - </div> -</div> - -</div> - - <ol class='ol_1 c002'> - <li>Silently corrected obvious typographical errors and variations in spelling. - - </li> - <li>Retained archaic, non-standard, and uncertain spellings as printed. - </li> - </ol> - -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin-top:4em'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK RUSSIAN SILHOUETTES ***</div> -<div style='text-align:left'> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Updated editions will replace the previous one—the old editions will -be renamed. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part -of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project -Gutenberg™ electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG™ -concept and trademark. Project Gutenberg is a registered trademark, -and may not be used if you charge for an eBook, except by following -the terms of the trademark license, including paying royalties for use -of the Project Gutenberg trademark. If you do not charge anything for -copies of this eBook, complying with the trademark license is very -easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose such as creation -of derivative works, reports, performances and research. Project -Gutenberg eBooks may be modified and printed and given away--you may -do practically ANYTHING in the United States with eBooks not protected -by U.S. copyright law. Redistribution is subject to the trademark -license, especially commercial redistribution. -</div> - -<div style='margin:0.83em 0; font-size:1.1em; text-align:center'>START: FULL LICENSE<br /> -<span style='font-size:smaller'>THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE<br /> -PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK</span> -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -To protect the Project Gutenberg™ mission of promoting the free -distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work -(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase “Project -Gutenberg”), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full -Project Gutenberg™ License available with this file or online at -www.gutenberg.org/license. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; font-size:1.1em; margin:1em 0; font-weight:bold'> -Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg™ electronic works -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg™ -electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to -and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property -(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all -the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or -destroy all copies of Project Gutenberg™ electronic works in your -possession. If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a -Project Gutenberg™ electronic work and you do not agree to be bound -by the terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person -or entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.B. “Project Gutenberg” is a registered trademark. It may only be -used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who -agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few -things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg™ electronic works -even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See -paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project -Gutenberg™ electronic works if you follow the terms of this -agreement and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg™ -electronic works. See paragraph 1.E below. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation (“the -Foundation” or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection -of Project Gutenberg™ electronic works. Nearly all the individual -works in the collection are in the public domain in the United -States. If an individual work is unprotected by copyright law in the -United States and you are located in the United States, we do not -claim a right to prevent you from copying, distributing, performing, -displaying or creating derivative works based on the work as long as -all references to Project Gutenberg are removed. Of course, we hope -that you will support the Project Gutenberg™ mission of promoting -free access to electronic works by freely sharing Project Gutenberg™ -works in compliance with the terms of this agreement for keeping the -Project Gutenberg™ name associated with the work. You can easily -comply with the terms of this agreement by keeping this work in the -same format with its attached full Project Gutenberg™ License when -you share it without charge with others. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern -what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are -in a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, -check the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this -agreement before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, -distributing or creating derivative works based on this work or any -other Project Gutenberg™ work. The Foundation makes no -representations concerning the copyright status of any work in any -country other than the United States. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other -immediate access to, the full Project Gutenberg™ License must appear -prominently whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg™ work (any work -on which the phrase “Project Gutenberg” appears, or with which the -phrase “Project Gutenberg” is associated) is accessed, displayed, -performed, viewed, copied or distributed: -</div> - -<blockquote> - <div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> - This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most - other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions - whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms - of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online - at <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. If you - are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws - of the country where you are located before using this eBook. - </div> -</blockquote> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg™ electronic work is -derived from texts not protected by U.S. copyright law (does not -contain a notice indicating that it is posted with permission of the -copyright holder), the work can be copied and distributed to anyone in -the United States without paying any fees or charges. If you are -redistributing or providing access to a work with the phrase “Project -Gutenberg” associated with or appearing on the work, you must comply -either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 or -obtain permission for the use of the work and the Project Gutenberg™ -trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg™ electronic work is posted -with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution -must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any -additional terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms -will be linked to the Project Gutenberg™ License for all works -posted with the permission of the copyright holder found at the -beginning of this work. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg™ -License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this -work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg™. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this -electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without -prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with -active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project -Gutenberg™ License. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, -compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including -any word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access -to or distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg™ work in a format -other than “Plain Vanilla ASCII” or other format used in the official -version posted on the official Project Gutenberg™ website -(www.gutenberg.org), you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense -to the user, provide a copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means -of obtaining a copy upon request, of the work in its original “Plain -Vanilla ASCII” or other form. Any alternate format must include the -full Project Gutenberg™ License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, -performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg™ works -unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing -access to or distributing Project Gutenberg™ electronic works -provided that: -</div> - -<div style='margin-left:0.7em;'> - <div style='text-indent:-0.7em'> - • You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from - the use of Project Gutenberg™ works calculated using the method - you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is owed - to the owner of the Project Gutenberg™ trademark, but he has - agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the Project - Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments must be paid - within 60 days following each date on which you prepare (or are - legally required to prepare) your periodic tax returns. Royalty - payments should be clearly marked as such and sent to the Project - Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the address specified in - Section 4, “Information about donations to the Project Gutenberg - Literary Archive Foundation.” - </div> - - <div style='text-indent:-0.7em'> - • You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies - you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he - does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg™ - License. You must require such a user to return or destroy all - copies of the works possessed in a physical medium and discontinue - all use of and all access to other copies of Project Gutenberg™ - works. - </div> - - <div style='text-indent:-0.7em'> - • You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of - any money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the - electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days of - receipt of the work. - </div> - - <div style='text-indent:-0.7em'> - • You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free - distribution of Project Gutenberg™ works. - </div> -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project -Gutenberg™ electronic work or group of works on different terms than -are set forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing -from the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the manager of -the Project Gutenberg™ trademark. Contact the Foundation as set -forth in Section 3 below. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.F. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable -effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread -works not protected by U.S. copyright law in creating the Project -Gutenberg™ collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg™ -electronic works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may -contain “Defects,” such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate -or corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other -intellectual property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or -other medium, a computer virus, or computer codes that damage or -cannot be read by your equipment. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the “Right -of Replacement or Refund” described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project -Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project -Gutenberg™ trademark, and any other party distributing a Project -Gutenberg™ electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all -liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal -fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT -LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE -PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH 1.F.3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE -TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE -LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR -INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH -DAMAGE. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a -defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can -receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a -written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you -received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium -with your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you -with the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in -lieu of a refund. If you received the work electronically, the person -or entity providing it to you may choose to give you a second -opportunity to receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If -the second copy is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing -without further opportunities to fix the problem. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth -in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you ‘AS-IS’, WITH NO -OTHER WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT -LIMITED TO WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTABILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied -warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of -damages. If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement -violates the law of the state applicable to this agreement, the -agreement shall be interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or -limitation permitted by the applicable state law. The invalidity or -unenforceability of any provision of this agreement shall not void the -remaining provisions. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the -trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone -providing copies of Project Gutenberg™ electronic works in -accordance with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the -production, promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg™ -electronic works, harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, -including legal fees, that arise directly or indirectly from any of -the following which you do or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this -or any Project Gutenberg™ work, (b) alteration, modification, or -additions or deletions to any Project Gutenberg™ work, and (c) any -Defect you cause. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; font-size:1.1em; margin:1em 0; font-weight:bold'> -Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg™ -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Project Gutenberg™ is synonymous with the free distribution of -electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of -computers including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It -exists because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations -from people in all walks of life. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the -assistance they need are critical to reaching Project Gutenberg™’s -goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg™ collection will -remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project -Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure -and permanent future for Project Gutenberg™ and future -generations. To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation and how your efforts and donations can help, see -Sections 3 and 4 and the Foundation information page at www.gutenberg.org. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; font-size:1.1em; margin:1em 0; font-weight:bold'> -Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non-profit -501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the -state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal -Revenue Service. The Foundation’s EIN or federal tax identification -number is 64-6221541. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent permitted by -U.S. federal laws and your state’s laws. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -The Foundation’s business office is located at 809 North 1500 West, -Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887. Email contact links and up -to date contact information can be found at the Foundation’s website -and official page at www.gutenberg.org/contact -</div> - -<div style='display:block; font-size:1.1em; margin:1em 0; font-weight:bold'> -Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Project Gutenberg™ depends upon and cannot survive without widespread -public support and donations to carry out its mission of -increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be -freely distributed in machine-readable form accessible by the widest -array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations -($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt -status with the IRS. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating -charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United -States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a -considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up -with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations -where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To SEND -DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any particular state -visit <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org/donate/">www.gutenberg.org/donate</a>. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we -have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition -against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who -approach us with offers to donate. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make -any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from -outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Please check the Project Gutenberg web pages for current donation -methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other -ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations. To -donate, please visit: www.gutenberg.org/donate -</div> - -<div style='display:block; font-size:1.1em; margin:1em 0; font-weight:bold'> -Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg™ electronic works -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project -Gutenberg™ concept of a library of electronic works that could be -freely shared with anyone. For forty years, he produced and -distributed Project Gutenberg™ eBooks with only a loose network of -volunteer support. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Project Gutenberg™ eBooks are often created from several printed -editions, all of which are confirmed as not protected by copyright in -the U.S. unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not -necessarily keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper -edition. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Most people start at our website which has the main PG search -facility: <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -This website includes information about Project Gutenberg™, -including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to -subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. -</div> - -</div> - </body> - <!-- created with ppgen.py 3.57c on 2021-11-22 03:27:16 GMT --> -</html> diff --git a/old/66790-h/images/cover.jpg b/old/66790-h/images/cover.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 8d890e2..0000000 --- a/old/66790-h/images/cover.jpg +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/66790-h/images/i_321.jpg b/old/66790-h/images/i_321.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 30347ca..0000000 --- a/old/66790-h/images/i_321.jpg +++ /dev/null |
