A Reckless Character, and Other Stories Part 10

I was fairly stupefied....

"My friend," I say, "my dear little dove, my benefactor!"... But he asks me:

"When shall we set out?"

"Why, to-morrow, if thou wilt," I say.

So on the following day we started. We slung wallets over our shoulders, took staves in our hands, and set forth. For seven whole days we trudged on, and all the while the weather favoured us, and was even downright wonderful! There was neither sultry heat nor rain; the flies did not bite, the dust did not make us itch. And every day my Yakoff acquired a better aspect. I must tell you that Yakoff had not been in the habit of seeing _that one_ in the open air, but had felt him behind him, close to his back, or his shadow had seemed to be gliding alongside, which troubled my son greatly. But on this occasion nothing of that sort happened, and nothing made its appearance. We talked very little together ... but how greatly at our ease we felt--especially I! I saw that my poor boy was coming to life again. I cannot describe to you, my dear sir, what my feelings were then.--Well, we reached Voronezh at last. We cleaned up ourselves and washed ourselves, and went to the cathedral, to the holy man. For three whole days we hardly left the temple. How many prayer-services we celebrated, how many candles we placed before the holy pictures! And everything was going well, everything was fine; the days were devout, the nights were tranquil; my Yakoff slept like an infant. He began to talk to me of his own accord.

He would ask: "Dost thou see nothing, father dear?" and smile. "No, I see nothing," I would answer.--What more could be demanded? My grat.i.tude to the saint was unbounded.

Three days pa.s.sed; I said to Yakoff: "Well, now, dear son, the matter has been set in order; there's a festival in our street. One thing remains to be done; do thou make thy confession and receive the communion; and then, with G.o.d's blessing, we will go our way, and after having got duly rested, and worked a bit on the farm to increase thy strength, thou mayest bestir thyself and find a place--and Marfa Savishna will certainly help us in that," I said.

"No," said Yakoff, "why should we trouble her? But I will take her a ring from Mitrofany's hand."

Thereupon I was greatly encouraged. "See to it," I said, "that thou takest a silver ring, not a gold one,--not a wedding-ring!"

My Yakoff flushed up and merely repeated that it was not proper to trouble her, but immediately a.s.sented to all the rest.--We went to the cathedral on the following day; my Yakoff made his confession, and prayed so fervently before it! And then he went forward to take the communion. I was standing a little to one side, and did not feel the earth under me for joy.... It is no sweeter for the angels in heaven!

But as I look--what is the meaning of that?--My Yakoff has received the communion, but does not go to sip the warm water and wine![25] He is standing with his back to me.... I go to him.

"Yakoff," I say, "why art thou standing here?"

He suddenly wheels round. Will you believe it, I sprang back, so frightened was I!--His face had been dreadful before, but now it had become ferocious, frightful! He was as pale as death, his hair stood on end, his eyes squinted.... I even lost my voice with terror. I tried to speak and could not; I was perfectly benumbed.... And he fairly rushed out of the church! I ran after him ... but he fled straight to the tavern where we had put up, flung his wallet over his shoulder, and away he flew!

"Whither?" I shouted to him. "Yakoff, what aileth thee? Stop, wait!"

But Yakoff never uttered a word in reply to me, but ran like a hare, and it was utterly impossible to overtake him! He disappeared from sight. I immediately turned back, hired a cart, and trembled all over, and all I could say was: "O Lord!" and, "O Lord!" And I understood nothing: some calamity had descended upon us! I set out for home, for I thought, "He has certainly fled thither."--And so he had. Six versts out of the town I espied him; he was striding along the highway. I overtook him, jumped out of the cart, and rushed to him.

"Yasha! Yasha!"--He halted, turned his face toward me, but kept his eyes fixed on the ground and compressed his lips. And say what I would to him, he stood there just like a statue, and one could just see that he was breathing. And at last he trudged on again along the highway.--What was there to do? I followed him....

Akh, what a journey that was, my dear sir! Great as had been our joy on the way to Voronezh, just so great was the horror of the return! I would try to speak to him, and he would begin to gnash his teeth at me over his shoulder, precisely like a tiger or a hyena! Why I did not go mad I do not understand to this day! And at last, one night, in a peasant's chicken-house, he was sitting on the platform over the oven and dangling his feet and gazing about on all sides, when I fell on my knees before him and began to weep, and besought him with bitter entreaty:

"Do not slay thy old father outright," I said; "do not let him fall into despair--tell me what has happened to thee?"

He glanced at me as though he did not see who was before him, and suddenly began to speak, but in such a voice that it rings in my ears even now.

"Listen, daddy," said he. "Dost thou wish to know the whole truth? When I had taken the communion, thou wilt remember, and still held the particle[26] in my mouth, suddenly _he_ (and that was in the church, in the broad daylight!) stood in front of me, just as though he had sprung out of the ground, and whispered to me ... (but he had never spoken to me before)--whispered: 'Spit it out, and grind it to powder!' I did so; I spat it out, and ground it under foot. And now it must be that I am lost forever, for every sin shall be forgiven, save the sin against the Holy Spirit...."

And having uttered these dreadful words, my son threw himself back on the platform and I dropped down on the floor of the hut.... My legs failed me....

Father Alexyei paused for a moment, and covered his eyes with his hand.

But why should I weary you longer [he went on], and myself? My son and I dragged ourselves home, and there he soon afterward expired, and I lost my Yasha. For several days before his death he neither ate nor drank, but kept running back and forth in the room and repeating that there could be no forgiveness for his sin.... But he never saw _him_ again.

"He has ruined my soul," he said; "and why should he come any more now?" And when Yakoff took to his bed, he immediately sank into unconsciousness, and thus, without repentance, like a senseless worm, he went from this life to life eternal....

But I will not believe that the Lord judged harshly....

And among other reasons why I do not believe it is, that he looked so well in his coffin; he seemed to have grown young again and resembled the Yakoff of days gone by. His face was so tranquil and pure, his hair curled in little rings, and there was a smile on his lips. Marfa Savishna came to look at him, and said the same thing. She encircled him all round with flowers, and laid flowers on his heart, and set up the gravestone at her own expense.

And I was left alone.... And that is why, my dear sir, you have beheld such great grief on my face.... It will never pa.s.s off---and it cannot.

I wanted to speak a word of comfort to Father Alexyei ... but could think of none. We parted soon after.

OLD PORTRAITS[27]

(1881)

About forty versts from our village there dwelt, many years ago, the great-uncle of my mother, a retired Sergeant of the Guards and a fairly wealthy landed proprietor, Alexyei Sergyeitch Telyegin, on his ancestral estate, Sukhodol. He never went anywhere himself, and therefore did not visit us; but I was sent to pay my respects to him a couple of times a year, at first with my governor, and later on alone. Alexyei Sergyeitch always received me very cordially, and I spent three or four days with him. He was already an old man when I made his acquaintance; I remember that I was twelve years old at my first visit, and he was already over seventy. He had been born under the Empress Elizabeth, in the last year of her reign. He lived alone with his wife, Malanya Pavlovna; she was ten years younger than he. They had had two daughters who had been married long before, and rarely visited Sukhodol; there had been quarrels between them and their parents,[28] and Alexyei Sergyeitch hardly ever mentioned them.

I see that ancient, truly n.o.ble steppe home as though it stood before me now. Of one story, with a huge mezzanine,[29] erected at the beginning of the present century from wonderfully thick pine beams--such beams were brought at that epoch from the Zhizdrin pine forests; there is no trace of them nowadays!--it was very s.p.a.cious and contained a mult.i.tude of rooms, which were decidedly low-ceiled and dark, it is true, and the windows were mere slits in the walls, for the sake of warmth. As was proper, the offices and the house-serfs' cottages surrounded the manor-house on all sides, and a park adjoined it, small but with fine fruit-trees, pellucid apples and seedless pears; for ten versts round about stretched out the flat, black-loam steppe. There was no lofty object for the eye: neither a tree nor a belfry; only here and there a windmill reared itself aloft with holes in its wings; it was a regular Sukhodol! (Dry Valley). Inside the house the rooms were filled with ordinary, plain furniture; rather unusual was a verst-post which stood on a window-sill in the hall, and bore the following inscription:

"If thou walkest 68 times around this hall,[30] thou wilt have gone a verst; if thou goest 87 times from the extreme corner of the drawing-room to the right corner of the billiard-room, thou wilt have gone a verst,"--and so forth. But what most impressed the guest who arrived for the first time was the great number of pictures hung on the walls, for the most part the work of so-called Italian masters: ancient landscapes, and mythological and religious subjects. But as all these pictures had turned very black, and had even become warped, all that met the eye was patches of flesh-colour, or a billowy red drapery on an invisible body--or an arch which seemed suspended in the air, or a dishevelled tree with blue foliage, or the bosom of a nymph with a large nipple, like the cover of a soup-tureen; a sliced watermelon, with black seeds; a turban, with a feather above a horse's head; or the gigantic, light-brown leg of some apostle or other, with a muscular calf and up-turned toes, suddenly protruded itself. In the drawing-room, in the place of honour, hung a portrait of the Empress Katherine II, full length, a copy from Lampi's well-known portrait--the object of special reverence, one may say adoration, for the master of the house. From the ceiling depended crystal chandeliers in bronze fittings, very small and very dusty.

Alexyei Sergyeitch himself was a very squat, pot-bellied, little old man, with a plump, but agreeable face all of one colour, with sunken lips and very vivacious little eyes beneath lofty eyebrows. He brushed his scanty hair over the back of his head; it was only since the year 1812 that he had discarded powder. Alexyei Sergyeitch always wore a grey "redingote" with three capes which fell over his shoulders, a striped waistcoat, chamois-leather breeches and dark-red morocco short boots with a heart-shaped cleft, and a ta.s.sel at the top of the leg; he wore a white muslin neckerchief, a frill, lace cuffs, and two golden English "onions,"[31] one in each pocket of his waistcoat. In his right hand he generally held an enamelled snuff-box with "Spanish" snuff, while his left rested on a cane with a silver handle which had been worn quite smooth with long use. Alexyei Sergyeitch had a shrill, nasal voice, and was incessantly smiling, amiably, but somewhat patronisingly, not without a certain self-satisfied pompousness. He also laughed in an amiable manner, with a fine, thin laugh like a string of wax pearls. He was courteous and affable, in the ancient manner of Katherine's day, and moved his hands slowly and with a circular motion, also in ancient style. On account of his weak legs he could not walk, but he was wont to trip with hurried little steps from one arm-chair to another arm-chair, in which he suddenly seated himself--or, rather, he fell into it, as softly as though he had been a pillow.

As I have already said, Alexyei Sergyeitch never went anywhere, and a.s.sociated very little with the neighbours, although he was fond of society,--for he was loquacious! He had plenty of society in his own house, it is true: divers Nikanor Nikanoritches, Sevastyei Sevastyeitches, Fedulitches, and Mikheitches, all poverty-stricken petty n.o.bles, in threadbare kazak coats and short jackets, frequently from his own n.o.ble shoulders, dwelt beneath his roof, not to mention the poor gentlewomen in cotton-print gowns, with black kerchiefs on their shoulders, and worsted reticules in their tightly-clenched fingers,--divers Avdotiya Savishnas, Pelageya Mironovnas, and plain Fekluskas and Arinkas, who received asylum in the women's wing. No less than fifteen persons ever sat down to Alexyei Sergyeitch's table ... he was so hospitable!--Among all these parasites two individuals stood forth with special prominence: a dwarf named Ja.n.u.s or the Two-faced, a Dane,--or, as some a.s.serted, of Jewish extraction,--and crazy Prince L.

In contrast to the customs of that day the dwarf did not in the least serve as a b.u.t.t for the guests, and was not a jester; on the contrary, he maintained constant silence, wore an irate and surly mien, contracted his brows in a frown, and gnashed his teeth as soon as any one addressed a question to him. Alexyei Sergyeitch also called him a philosopher, and even respected him. At table he was always the first to be served after the guests and the master and mistress of the house.--"G.o.d has wronged him," Alexyei Sergyeitch was wont to say: "that was the Lord's will; but it is not my place to wrong him."

"Why is he a philosopher?" I asked one day. (Ja.n.u.s did not like me. No sooner would I approach him, than he would begin to snarl and growl hoa.r.s.ely, "Stranger! don't bother me!")

"But G.o.d have mercy, why isn't he a philosopher?" replied Alexyei Sergyeitch. "Just observe, my little gentleman, how finely he holds his tongue!"

"But why is he two-faced?"

"Because, my young sir, he has one face outside; there it is for you, ninny, and judge it.... But the other, the real one, he hides. And I am the only one who knows that face, and for that I love him.... Because 't is a good face. Thou, for example, gazest and beholdest nothing ... but even without words, I see when he is condemning me for anything; for he is strict! And always with reason. Which thing thou canst not understand, young sir; but just believe me, an old man!"

The true history of the two-faced Ja.n.u.s--whence he had come, how he had got into Alexyei Sergyeitch's house--no one knew. On the other hand, the story of Prince L. was well known to all. As a young man of twenty, he had come from a wealthy and distinguished family to Petersburg, to serve in a regiment of the Guards; the Empress Katherine noticed him at the first Court reception, and halting in front of him and pointing to him with her fan, she said, in a loud voice, addressing one of her favourites: "Look, Adam Vasilievitch, see what a beauty! A regular doll!" The blood flew to the poor young fellow's head. On reaching home he ordered his calash to be harnessed up, and donning his ribbon of the Order of Saint Anna, he started out to drive all over the town, as though he had actually fallen into luck.--"Crush every one who does not get out of the way!" he shouted to his coachman.--All this was immediately brought to the Empress's knowledge; an order was issued that he was to be adjudged insane and given in charge of his two brothers; and the latter, without the least delay, carried him off to the country and chained him up in a stone bag.--As they were desirous to make use of his property, they did not release the unfortunate man even when he recovered his senses and came to himself, but continued to keep him incarcerated until he really did lose his mind.--But their wickedness profited them nothing. Prince L. outlived his brothers, and after long sufferings, found himself under the guardianship of Alexyei Sergyeitch, who was a connection of his. He was a fat, perfectly bald man, with a long, thin nose and blue goggle-eyes. He had got entirely out of the way of speaking--he merely mumbled something unintelligible; but he sang the ancient Russian ballads admirably, having retained, to extreme old age, his silvery freshness of voice, and in his singing he enunciated every word clearly and distinctly. Something in the nature of fury came over him at times, and then he became terrifying. He would stand in one corner, with his face to the wall, and all perspiring and crimson,--crimson all over his bald head to the nape of his neck.

Emitting a malicious laugh, and stamping his feet, he would issue orders that some one was to be castigated,--probably his brothers.--"Thrash!"-- he yelled hoa.r.s.ely, choking and coughing with laughter,--"scourge, spare not, thrash, thrash, thrash the monsters my malefactors! That's right!

That's right!" Just before he died he greatly amazed and frightened Alexyei Sergyeitch. He entered the latter's room all pale and quiet, and inclining his body in obeisance to the girdle, he first returned thanks for the asylum and oversight, and then requested that a priest might be sent for; for Death had come to him--he had beheld her--and he must pardon all men and whiten himself.

"How was it that thou didst see her?" muttered the astounded Alexyei Sergyeitch, who now heard a coherent speech from him for the first time.--"What is she like? Has she a scythe?"

"No," replied Prince L.--"She's a plain old woman in a loose gown--only she has but one eye in her forehead, and that eye has no lid."

And on the following day Prince L. actually expired, after having fulfilled all his religious obligations and taken leave of every one intelligently and with emotion.

"That's the way I shall die also," Alexyei Sergyeitch was wont to remark. And, in fact, something similar happened with him--of which, later on.

But now let us return to our former subject. Alexyei Sergyeitch did not consort with the neighbours, as I have already said; and they did not like him any too well, calling him eccentric, arrogant, a mocker, and even a Martinist who did not recognise the authorities, without themselves understanding, of course, the meaning of the last word. To a certain extent the neighbours were right. Alexyei Sergyeitch had resided for nearly seventy years in succession in his Sukhodol, having almost no dealings whatever with the superior authorities, with the military officials, or the courts. "The court is for the bandit, the military officer for the soldier," he was wont to say; "but I, G.o.d be thanked, am neither a bandit nor a soldier." Alexyei Sergyeitch really was somewhat eccentric, but the soul within him was not of the petty sort. I will narrate a few things about him.

I never found out authoritatively what were his political views, if, indeed, one can apply to him such a very new-fangled expression; but he was, in his way, rather an aristocrat than a n.o.bly-born master of serfs.

More than once he complained because G.o.d had not given him a son and heir "for the honour of the race, for the continuation of the family."