"In the year 18--, in the early autumn, I went to Petersburg to sit
for an examination at the Academy of the General Staff. I stopped in
the first hotel I came to, at the corner of Nevsky Prospect and the
Fontanka. From my windows I could see the bronze horses on the parapet
of the Anitchka Bridge--they were always wet and gleaming as if they
had been covered over with new oilcloth. I often drew them on the
marble window-seats of my room.
"Petersburg struck me as an unpleasant place, it seemed to be always
enveloped in a melancholy grey veil of drizzling rain. But when
I went into the Academy for the first time I was overwhelmed and
overawed by its grandeur. I remember now its immense broad staircase
with marble balustrades, its high-roofed amphilades, its severely
proportioned lecture-hall, and its waxed parquet floor, gleaming like
a mirror, upon which my provincial feet stepped warily. There were
four hundred officers there that day. Against the modest background
of green Armenian uniforms there flashed the clattering swords of the
Cuirassiers, the scarlet breasts of the Lancers, the white jackets of
the Cavalry Guards, waving plumes, the gold of eagles on helmets, the
various colours of facings, the silver of swords. These officers were
all my rivals, and as I watched them in pride and agitation I pulled
at the place where I supposed my moustache would grow by and by. When
a busy colonel of the General Staff, with his portfolio under his arm,
hurried past us, we shy foot soldiers stepped on one side with reverent
awe.
"The examination was to last over a month. I knew no one in all
Petersburg, and in the evening, returning to my lodging, I experienced
the dulness and wearisomeness of solitude. It was no good talking to
any of my companions; they were all immersed in sines and tangents,
in the qualities determining good positions for a battle ground,
in calculations about the declination of a projectile. Suddenly I
remembered that my father had advised me to seek out in Petersburg our
distant relative, Alexandra Ivanovna Gratcheva, and go and visit her. I
got a directory, found her address, and set out for a place somewhere
on the Gorokhavaya. After some little difficulty I found Alexandra
Ivanovna's room; she was living in her sister's house.
"I opened the door and stood there, hardly seeing anything at first.
A stout woman was standing with her back to me, near the single small
window of dull green glass. She was bending over a smoky paraffin
stove. The room was filled with the odour of paraffin and burning fat.
The woman turned round and saw me, and from a corner a barefooted boy,
wearing a loose-belted blouse, jumped up and ran quickly towards me.
I looked closely at him, and saw at once that he was an idiot, and,
though I did not recoil before him, in reality there was a feeling in
my heart like that of fear. The idiot looked unintelligently at me,
uttering strange sounds, something like _oorli, oorli, oorli...._
"'Don't be afraid, he won't touch it,' said the woman to the idiot,
coming forward. And then to me--'What can I do for you?' she added.
"I gave my name and reminded her of my father. She was glad to see
me, her face brightened up, she exclaimed in surprise and began to
apologise for not having the room in order. The idiot boy came closer
to me, and cried out more loudly, _oorli, oorli...._
"'This is my boy, he's been like that from birth,' said Alexandra
Ivanovna with a sad smile. 'What of it.... It's the will of God. His
name is Stepan.'
"Hearing his name the idiot cried out in a shrill, bird-like voice:
"_'Papan!'_
"Alexandra Ivanovna patted him caressingly on the shoulder.
"'Yes, yes, Stepan, Stepan.... You see, he guessed we were speaking
about him and so he introduced himself.'
"_'Papan!'_ cried the idiot again, turning his eyes first on his mother
and then on me.
"In order to show some interest in the boy I said to him, 'How do you
do, Stepan,' and took him by the hand. It was cold, puffy, lifeless. I
felt a certain aversion, and only out of politeness went on:
"'I suppose he's about sixteen.'
"'Oh, no,' answered the mother. 'Everybody thinks he's about sixteen,
but he's over twenty-nine. ... His beard and moustache have never
grown.'
"We talked together. Alexandra Ivanovna was a quiet, timid woman,
weighed down by need and misfortune. Her sharp struggle against poverty
had entirely killed all boldness of thought in her and all interest in
anything outside the narrow bounds of this struggle. She complained
to me of the high price of meat, and about the impudence of the cab
drivers; told me of some people who had won money in a lottery, and
envied the happiness of rich people. All the time of our conversation
Stepan kept his eyes fixed on me. He was apparently struck by and
interested in my military overcoat. Three times he put out his hand
stealthily to touch the shining buttons, but drew it back each time as
if he were afraid.
"'Is it possible your Stepan cannot say even one word?' I asked.
"Alexandra Ivanovna shook her head sadly.
"'No, he can't speak. He has a few words of his own, but they're not
really words--just mutterings. For example, he calls himself _Papan_;
when he wants something to eat he says _mnya_; he calls money _teki_.
Stepan,' she continued, turning to her son, 'where is your _teki_; show
us your _teki._'
"Stepan jumped up quickly from his chair, ran into a dark corner, and
crouched down on his heels. I heard the jingling of some copper coins
and the boy's voice saying _oorli, oorli,_ but this time in a growling,
threatening tone.
"'He's afraid,' explained the mother; 'though he doesn't understand
what money is, he won't let anyone touch it ... he won't even let
me.... Well, well, we won't touch your money, we won't touch it,' she
went to her son and soothed him....
"I began to visit them frequently. Stepan interested me, and an idea
came to me to try and cure him according to the system of a certain
Swiss doctor, who tried to cure his feeble-minded patients by the slow
road of logical development. 'He has a few weak impressions of the
outer world and of the connection between phenomena,' I thought. 'Can
one not combine two or three of these ideas, and so give a fourth,
a fifth, and so on? Is it not possible by persistent exercise to
strengthen and broaden this poor mind a little?'
"I brought him a doll dressed as a coachman. He was much pleased with
it, and laughed and exclaimed, showing the doll and saying _Papan!_ The
doll, however, seemed to awaken some doubt in his mind, and that same
evening Stepan, who was usually well-disposed to all that was small and
weak, tried to break the doll's head on the floor. Then I brought him
pictures, tried to interest him in boxes of bricks, and talked to him,
naming the different objects and pointing them out to him. But either
the Swiss doctor's system was not a good one or I didn't know how to
put it into practice--Stepan's development seemed to make no progress
at all.
"He was very fond of me in those days. When I came to visit them he ran
to meet me, uttering rapturous cries. He never took his eyes off me,
and when I ceased to pay him special attention he came up and licked my
hands, my shoes, my uniform, just like a dog. When I went away he stood
at the window for a long time, and cried so pitifully that the other
lodgers in the house complained of him to the landlady.
"But my personal affairs were in a bad way. I failed at the
examination, failed unusually badly in the last but one examination in
fortifications. Nothing remained but to collect my belongings and go
back to my regiment. I don't think that in all my life I shall ever
forget that dreadful moment when, coming out of the lecture-hall, I
walked across the great vestibule of the Academy. Good Lord! I felt
so small, so pitiful and so humbled, walking down those broad steps
covered with grey felt carpet, having a crimson stripe at the side and
a white linen tread down the middle.
"It was necessary to get away as quickly as possible. I was urged to
this by financial considerations--in my purse I had only ten copecks
and one ticket for a dinner at a student's restaurant.
"I thought to myself: 'I must get my "dismissal" quickly and set out
at once. Oh, the irony of that word "dismissal."' But it seemed the
most difficult thing in the world. From the Chancellor of the Academy I
was sent to the General Staff, thence to the Commandant's office, then
to the local intendant, then back to the Academy, and at last to the
Treasury. All these places were open only at special times: some from
nine to twelve, some from three to five. I was late at all of them, and
my position began to appear critical.
"When I used my dinner ticket I had thoughtlessly squandered my ten
copecks also. Next day, when I felt the pangs of hunger, I resolved to
sell my text-books. Thick 'Baron Bego,' adapted by Bremiker, bound,
I sold for twenty-five copecks; 'Professor Lobko' for twenty; solid
'General Durop' no one would buy.
"For two days I was half starved. On the third day there only remained
to me three copecks. I screwed up my courage and went to ask a loan
from some of my companions, but they all excused themselves by
saying there was a Torricellian vacuum in their pockets, and only
one acknowledged having a few roubles, but he never lent money. As
he explained, with a gentle smile, '"Loan oft loses both itself and
friend," as Shakspeare says in one of his immortal works.'
"Three copecks! I indulged in tragic reflections. Should I spend them
all at once on a box of ten cigarettes, or should I wait until my
hunger became unbearable, and then buy bread?
"How wise I was to decide on the latter! Towards evening I was as
hungry as Robinson Crusoe on his island, and I went out on to the
Nevsky Prospect. Ten times I passed and repassed Philipof's the
baker's, devouring with my eyes the immense loaves of bread in the
windows. Some had yellow crust, some red, and some were strewn with
poppy-seed. At last I resolved to go in. Some schoolboys stood there
eating hot pies, holding them in scraps of grey greasy paper. I felt a
hatred against them for their good fortune.
"'What would you like?' asked the shopman.
"I put on an indifferent air, and answered superciliously:
"'Cut me off a pound of black bread....'
"I was far from being at my ease while the man skilfully cut the bread
with his broad knife. And suddenly I thought to myself: 'Suppose it's
more than two and a half copecks a pound, what shall I do if the man
cuts it overweight? I know it's possible to owe five or ten roubles
in a restaurant, and say to the waiter, "Put it down to my account,
please," but what can one do if one hasn't enough by _one_ copeck?'
"Hurrah! The bread cost exactly three copecks. I shifted about from one
foot to another while it was being wrapped up in paper. As soon as I
got out of the shop and felt in my pocket the soft warmth of the bread,
I wanted to cry out for joy and begin to munch it, as children do those
crusts which they steal from the table after a long day's romping, to
eat as they lie in their beds. And I couldn't restrain myself. Even in
the street I thrust into my mouth two large tasty morsels.
"Yes. I tell you all this in almost a cheerful tone. But I was far
from cheerful then. Add to my torture of hunger the stinging shame of
failure; the near prospect of being the laughing-stock of my regimental
companions; the charming amiability of the official on whom depended my
cursed 'dismissal'.... I tell you frankly, in those days I was face to
face all the time with the thought of suicide.
"Next day my hunger again seemed unbearable. I went along to Alexandra
Ivanovna. As soon as Stepan saw me he went into an ecstasy. He cried
out, jumped about me, and licked my coat-sleeve. When at length I sat
down he placed himself near me on the floor and pressed up against my
legs. Alexandra Ivanovna was obliged to send him away by force.
"It was very unpleasant to have to ask a loan from this poor woman, who
herself found life so difficult, but I resolved I must do so.
"'Alexandra Ivanovna,' said I. 'I've nothing to eat. Lend me what money
you can, please.'
"She wrung her hands.
"'My dear boy, I haven't a copeck. Yesterday I pawned my brooch....
To-day I was able to buy something in the market, but to-morrow I don't
know what I shall do.'
"'Can't you borrow a little from your sister?' I suggested.
"Alexandra Ivanovna looked round with a frightened air, and whispered,
almost in terror:
"'What are you saying? What! Don't you know I live here on her charity?
No, we'd better think of some other way of getting it.'
"But the more we thought the more difficult it appeared. After a while
we became silent. Evening came on, and the room was filled with a heavy
wearisome gloom. Despair and hate and hunger tortured me. I felt as if
I were abandoned on the edge of the world, alone and humiliated.
"Suddenly something touched my side. I turned. It was Stepan. He held
out to me on his palm a little pile of copper money, and said: '_Teki,
teki, teki...._'
"I did not understand. Then he threw his money on to my knee, called
out once more--_teki_--and ran off into his corner.
"Well, why should I hide it? I wept like a child; sobbed out, long
and loudly. Alexandra Ivanovna wept also, out of pity and tenderness,
and from his far corner Stepan uttered his pitiful, unmeaning cry of
_oorli, oorli, oorli._
"When I became quieter I felt better. The unexpected sympathy of the
idiot boy had suddenly warmed and soothed my heart, and shown me that
it is possible to live, and that one ought to live, as long as there is
love and compassion in the world."
"That is why," concluded Zimina, finishing his story, "that is why I
pity all these unfortunates, and why I can't deny that they are human
beings." Yes, and by the way, his sympathy brought me happiness. Now
I'm very glad I didn't become a "moment"--that's our nickname for the
officers of the General Staff. Since that time I have had a full and
broad life, and promises to be as full in the future. I'm superstitious
about it.
V