The Man Who Was Afraid Part 71

"There, he's broken loose!" exclaimed Yozhov. "You better tell me whether it is true that Mayakin's son has returned?"

"Yes."

"Why do you ask?"

"Nothing."

"I can see by your face that there is something."

"We know all about his son; we've heard about him."

"But I have seen him."

"Well? What sort of man is he?"

"The devil knows him! What have I to do with him?"

"Is he like his father?"

"He's stouter, plumper; there is more seriousness about him; he is so cold."

"Which means that he will be even worse than Yashka. Well, now, my dear, be on your guard or they will suck you dry."

"Well, let them do it!"

"They'll rob you. You'll become a pauper. That Taras fleeced his father-in-law in Yekateringburg so cleverly."

"Let him fleece me too, if he likes. I shall not say a word to him except 'thanks.'"

"You are still singing that same old tune?"

"Yes."

"To be set at liberty."

"Yes."

"Drop it! What do you want freedom for? What will you do with it? Don't you know that you are not fit for anything, that you are illiterate, that you certainly cannot even split a log of wood? Now, if I could only free myself from the necessity of drinking vodka and eating bread!"

Yozhov jumped to his feet, and, stopping in front of Foma, began to speak in a loud voice, as though declaiming:

"I would gather together the remains of my wounded soul, and together with the blood of my heart I would spit them into the face of our intelligent society, the devil take it! I would say to them:

'You insects, you are the best sap of my country! The fact of your existence has been repaid by the blood and the tears of scores of generations of Russian people. O, you nits! How dearly your country has paid for you! What are you doing for its sake in return? Have you transformed the tears of the past into pearls? What have you contributed toward life? What have you accomplished? You have permitted yourselves to be conquered? What are you doing? You permit yourselves to be mocked.'"

He stamped his feet with rage, and setting his teeth together stared at Foma with burning, angry looks, and resembled an infuriated wild beast.

"I would say to them: 'You! You reason too much, but you are not very wise, and you are utterly powerless, and you are all cowards! Your hearts are filled up with morality and n.o.ble intentions, but they are as soft and warm as feather beds; the spirit of creativeness sleeps within them a profound and calm sleep, and your hearts do not throb, they merely rock slowly, like cradles.' Dipping my finger in the blood of my heart, I would smear upon their brows the brands of my reproaches, and they, paupers in spirit, miserable in their self-contentment, they would suffer. Oh, how they would suffer! My scourge is sharp, my hand is firm!

And I love too deeply to have compa.s.sion! They would suffer! And now they do not suffer, for they speak of their sufferings too much, too often, and too loud! They lie! Genuine suffering is mute, and genuine pa.s.sion knows no bounds! Pa.s.sions, pa.s.sions! When will they spring up in the hearts of men? We are all miserable because of apathy."

Short of breath he burst into a fit of coughing, he coughed for a long time, hopping about hither and thither, waving his hands like a madman.

And then he again stopped in front of Foma with pale face and blood-shot eyes. He breathed heavily, his lips trembled now and then, displaying his small, sharp teeth. Dishevelled, with his head covered with short heir, he looked like a perch just thrown out of the water. This was not the first time Foma saw him in such a state, and, as always, he was infected by his agitation. He listened to the fiery words of the small man, silently, without attempting to understand their meaning, having no desire to know against whom they were directed, absorbing their force only. Yozhov's words bubbled on like boiling water, and heated his soul.

"I will say to them, to those miserable idlers:

'Look! Life goes onward, leaving you behind!'"

"Eh! That's fine!" exclaimed Foma, ecstatically, and began to move about on the lounge. "You're a hero, Nikolay! Oh! Go ahead! Throw it right into their faces!"

But Yozhov was not in need of encouragement, it seemed even as though he had not heard at all Foma's exclamations, and he went on:

"I know the limitations of my powers. I know they'll shout at me: 'Hold your peace!' They'll tell me: 'Keep silence!' They will say it wisely, they will say it calmly, mocking me, they will say it from the height of their majesty. I know I am only a small bird, Oh, I am not a nightingale! Compared with them I am an ignorant man, I am only a feuilleton-writer, a man to amuse the public. Let them cry and silence me, let them do it! A blow will fall on my cheek, but the heart will nevertheless keep on throbbing! And I will say to them:

"'Yes, I am an ignorant man! And my first advantage over you is that I do not know a single book-truth dearer to me than a man! Man is the universe, and may he live forever who carries the whole world within him! And you,'I will say, 'for the sake of a word which, perhaps, does not always contain a meaning comprehensible to you, for the sake of a word you often inflict sores and wounds on one another, for the sake of a word you spurt one another with bile, you a.s.sault the soul. For this, believe me, life will severely call you to account: a storm will break loose, and it will whisk and wash you off the earth, as wind and rain whisk and wash the dust off a tree I There is in human language only one word whose meaning is clear and dear to everybody, and when that word is p.r.o.nounced, it sounds thus: 'Freedom!'"

"Crush on!" roared Foma, jumping up from the lounge and grasping Yozhov by the shoulders. With flashing eyes he gazed into Yozhov's face, bending toward him, and almost moaned with grief and affliction: "Oh!

Nikolay! My dear fellow, I am mortally sorry for you! I am more sorry than words can tell!"

"What's this? What's the matter with you?" cried Yozhov, pushing him away, amazed and shifted from his position by Foma's unexpected outburst and strange words.

"Oh, brother!" said Foma, lowering his voice, which thus sounded deeper, more persuasive. "Oh, living soul, why do you sink to ruin?"

"Who? I? I sink? You lie!"

"My dear boy! You will not say anything to anybody! There is no one to speak to! Who will listen to you? Only I!"

"Go to the devil!" shouted Yozhov, angrily, jumping away from him as though he had been scorched.

And Foma went toward him, and spoke convincingly, with intense sorrow:

"Speak! speak to me! I shall carry away your words to the proper place.

I understand them. And, ah! how I will scorch the people! Just wait! My opportunity will come."

"Go away!" screamed Yozhov, hysterically, squeezing his back to the wall, under Foma's pressure. Perplexed, crushed, and infuriated he stood and waved off Foma's arms outstretched toward him. And at this time the door of the room opened, and on the threshold appeared a woman all in black. Her face was angry-looking and excited, her cheek was tied up with a kerchief. She tossed her head back, stretched out her hand toward Yozhov and said, in a hissing and shrill voice:

"Nikolay Matveyich! Excuse me, but this is impossible! Such beast-like howling and roaring. Guests everyday. The police are coming. No, I can't bear it any longer! I am nervous. Please vacate the lodgings to-morrow.

You are not living in a desert, there are people about you here. And an educated man at that! A writer! All people require rest. I have a toothache. I request you to move tomorrow. I'll paste up a notice, I'll notify the police."

She spoke rapidly, and the majority of her words were lost in the hissing and whistling of her voice; only those words were distinct, which she shrieked out in a shrill, irritated tone. The corners of her kerchief protruded on her head like small horns, and shook from the movement of her jaws. At the sight of her agitated and comical figure Foma gradually retreated toward the lounge, while Yozhov stood, and wiping his forehead, stared at her fixedly, and listened to her words:

"So know it now!" she screamed, and behind the door, she said once more:

"Tomorrow! What an outrage."

"Devil!" whispered Yozhov, staring dully at the door.

"Yes! what a woman! How strict!" said Foma, looking at him in amazement, as he seated himself on the lounge.