"But how shall I pay my bills?"
"Leave your bills to me."
"And how shall I prevent Vassili from robbing me of Tioka!"
"Don't bother about Tioka. Leave him to me."
"And, oh dear! I wish I could be divorced from Vassili."
"You shall be divorced; I shall see to it."
"But what will my mother say?"
"Leave your mother to me."
There seemed to be nothing in the world that could not be left to the
omniscient and all-sufficing care of Donat Prilukoff. I was deeply moved
and grateful.
"How shall I ever be able to thank you?"
"Leave the thanking to me," said Prilukoff.
For a long time, indeed, he seemed neither to desire nor expect any
gratitude. He looked after my interests, my divorce, my parents, my son,
my maid, my debts, and my health. But he asked for no thanks; all he
required was that I should be docile and content.
It was a period of respite. Soon I forgot that I had ever thought of him
as a Scorpion or an octopus. Indeed, he was to my eyes a strange and
delightful mixture of knight errant, of guardian saint, of
commissionaire and hero.
I did not feel then that every favor, every counsel I asked of him, was
but another link in the subtle chain that bound me to him.
Soon I was unable to do anything without asking for his opinion and his
assistance. Tioka, Elise and I grew accustomed to see him arrive with
his masterful air and brisk greeting every afternoon; then every
morning; then every evening as well. We never went out without him; no
letter was received or written without its being given to him to read.
If Tioka broke a toy, if Elise was overcharged in an account, if I
received an anonymous letter, it was immediately referred to Prilukoff.
He put everything into his pocket, saying: "Leave that to me."
And, true to his word, he mended the toys, he adjusted the accounts, he
discovered and punished my anonymous slanderers. He was astute,
deliberate and intelligent.