"Why, just that; a kind man turned up, who tried to set the house on
fire. Luckily, I caught him in the act; now I 'm taking him to town."
"It can't be Akím, can it?".... asked Efrém, slowly.
"And how dost thou know? It is Akím. He came by night, with a firebrand
in a pot, and had already crept into the yard, and laid a fire.... All
my lads are witnesses.--Wouldst like to take a look? But, by the way, 't
is high time we were carrying him off."
"Dear little father, Naúm Ivánitch,"--began Efrém,--"release him; don't
utterly ruin the old man. Don't take that sin on your soul, Naúm
Ivánitch. Just reflect,--the man is desperate,--he has lost, you know
...."
"Stop that prating!"--Naúm interrupted him.--"The idea! As though I
would let him go! Why, he would set me on fire again to-morrow...."
"He will not do it, Naúm Ivánitch, believe me. Believe me, you yourself
will be more at ease so--for, you see, there will be inquiries--the
court--you surely know what I mean."
"Well, and what about the court? I have nothing to fear from the
court...."
"Dear little father, Naúm Ivánitch, how can you help fearing the
court?..."
"Eh, stop that; I see that thou art drunk early, and to-day is a
feast-day, to boot."
Efrém suddenly, and quite unexpectedly, fell to weeping.
"I am drunk, but I 'm speaking the truth,"--he blurted out.--"But do you
release him, in honour of Christ's festival."
"Come, let 's be starting, cry-baby."
And Naúm went out on the porch....
"Forgive him for Avdótya Aréfyevna's sake,"--said Efrém, following him.
Naúm approached the cellar, and threw the door wide open. Efrém, with
timorous curiosity, craned his neck from behind Naúm's back, and with
difficulty made out Akím in one corner of the shallow cellar. The former
wealthy householder, the man respected in all the countryside, was
sitting with pinioned arms on the straw, like a criminal... On hearing
the noise, he raised his head.... He seemed to have grown frightfully
thin in the last two days, especially during the last night--his sunken
eyes were hardly visible beneath his lofty brow, yellow as wax, his
parched lips had turned dark ... his whole face had undergone a change,
and assumed a strange expression: both harsh and terrified.
"Get up and come out,"--said Naúm.
Akím rose, and stepped across the threshold.
"Akím Semyónitch,"--roared Efrém,--"thou hast ruined thyself, my dear
man!"
Akím glanced at him in silence.
"If I had known why thou didst ask for liquor, I would n't have given it
to thee; indeed, I would n't! I do believe I would have drunk it all
myself! Ekh, Naúm Ivánitch,"--added Efrém, seizing Naúm by the
hand;--"have mercy on him, let him go!"
"Thou 'rt joking,"--retorted Naúm, with a grin.--"Come out, there,"--he
added, again addressing Akím... "What art thou waiting for?"
"Naúm Ivánoff,".... began Akím.
"What?"
"Naúm Ivánoff,"--repeated Akím;--"listen; I am guilty; I wanted to
punish thee myself; but God must judge between thou and me. Thou hast
taken everything from me, thou knowest that thyself--everything, to the
very last morsel.--Now thou canst ruin me, and this is all I have to say
to thee: If thou wilt release me now--well! let things stand! do thou
possess everything! I agree, and wish thee all success. And I say to
thee, as in the presence of God: If thou dost release me--thou shalt not
regret it. God bless thee!"
Akím shut his eyes, and ceased speaking.
"Certainly, certainly,"--retorted Naúm;--"as though one could trust
thee!"
"But thou canst, by God, thou canst!"--said Efrém; "really, thou canst.
I 'm ready to go bail for Akím Semyónitch with my head--come now,
really!"
"Nonsense!"--exclaimed Naúm.--"Let 's be off!"
Akím looked at him.
"As thou wilt, Naúm Ivánitch. Thou hast the power. Only, thou art taking
a great deal on thy soul. All right, if thou art impatient,--let us
start...."
Naúm, in his turn, darted a keen glance at Akím. "But it really would be
better,"--he thought to himself, "to let him go to the devil! Otherwise,
folks will devour me alive. There 'll be no living for Avdótya."....
While Naúm was reasoning with himself no one uttered a single word. The
labourer on the cart, who could see everything through the gate, merely
shook his head and slapped the reins on the horse's back. The other two
labourers stood on the porch and also maintained silence.
"Come, listen to me, old man,"--began Naúm;--"if I let thee go,--and I
forbid these fine fellows" (he nodded his head in the direction of the
labourers) "to blab; shall we be quits, thou and I--thou understandest
me--quits .... hey?"
"Possess everything, I say."
"Thou wilt not consider me in thy debt?"
"Thou wilt not be in debt to me, neither shall I be in debt to thee."
Again Naúm was silent for a space.
"Well, take thy oath on that!"
"I do, as God is holy,"--replied Akím.
"Here goes then, although I know beforehand that I shall repent of
it,"--remarked Naúm.--"But so be it! Give me your hands."
Akím turned his back toward him; Naúm began to unbind him.
"Look out, old man,"--he added, as he slipped the rope over his
wrists:--"remember, I have spared thee; be careful!"
"You 're a dear, Naúm Ivánitch,"--stammered the deeply-moved
Efrém.--"The Lord will be merciful to you!"
Akím stretched out his chilled and swollen arms, and was starting for
the gate....
All of a sudden Naúm "turned Jewish," as the expression is--evidently,
he was sorry that he had released Akím....
"Thou hast taken an oath, look out,"--he shouted after him.
Akím turned round, and surveying the house with an embracing glance,
said sadly:--"Possess thou everything, forever, undisturbed ....
farewell."
And he stepped quietly into the street, accompanied by Efrém. Naúm waved
his hand, ordered the cart to be unharnessed, and went back into the
house.
"Whither away, Akím Semyónitch? Art not thou coming to my
house?"--exclaimed Efrém,--perceiving that Akím turned to the right from
the highway.
"No, Efrémushka, thanks,"--replied Akím.... "I will go and see what my
wife is doing."
"Thou canst see later on.... But now thou must for joy .. thou knowest
...."
"No, thanks, Efrém.... I 've had enough as it is. Farewell."--And Akím
walked away without looking behind him.
"Eka! He has had enough as it is!"--ejaculated the astounded
chanter;--"and I have taken my oath on his behalf! Well, I did n't
expect this,"--he added with vexation,--"after I had vouched for him.
Phew!"
He remembered that he had forgotten to take his knife and pot, and
returned to the inn.... Naúm gave orders that his things should be
delivered to him, but it never entered his head to entertain him.
Thoroughly enraged and completely sober he presented himself at home.
"Well, what?"--his wife asked him;--"didst thou find him?"
"Did I find him?"--retorted Efrém;--"certainly I found him; there are
thy utensils for thee."
"Akím?"--inquired his wife, with special emphasis.
Efrém nodded his head.
"Yes, Akím. But what a goose he is! I went bail for him; without me he
would have been put in prison, and he never even treated me to a glass
of liquor. Ulyána Feódorovna, do you, at least, show me consideration;
give me just one little glass."
But Ulyána Feódorovna showed him no consideration and drove him out of
her sight.
In the meantime, Akím was proceeding with quiet strides along the road
which led to Lizavéta Prókhorovna's village. He had not yet been able
fully to recover himself; he was all quivering inside, like a man who
has but just escaped imminent death. He seemed not to believe in his
freedom. With dull amazement he stared at the fields, at the sky, at the
larks which were fluttering their wings in the warm air. On the previous
day, at Efrém's house, he had not slept at all since dinner, although
he had lain motionless on the oven; at first he had tried to drown with
liquor the intolerable pain of injury within him, the anguish of
wrathful, impotent indignation .... but the liquor could not entirely
overcome him; his heart waxed hot within him, and he began to meditate
how he might pay off his malefactor.... He thought of Naúm alone;
Lizavéta Prókhorovna did not enter his head, and from Avdótya he
mentally turned away. Toward evening, the thirst for revenge had blazed
up in him to the point of crime, and he, the good-natured, weak man,
with feverish impatience waited for the night, and like a wolf pouncing
on its prey, he rushed forth with fire in his hand to annihilate his
former home... But he had been captured .... locked up.... Night came.
What had not he turned over in his mind during that atrocious night! It
is difficult to convey in words all the tortures which he had undergone;
it is all the more difficult, because these torments even in the man
himself were wordless and dumb.... Toward morning, before the arrival of
Naúm and Efrém, Akím had felt somewhat easier in mind... "Everything is
lost!".... he thought .... "everything is scattered to the winds!"--and
he waved his hand in despair over everything.... If he had been born
with an evil soul, he might have turned into a criminal at that moment;
but evil was not a characteristic of Akím. Beneath the shock of the
unexpected and undeserved calamity, in the reek of despair, he had made
up his mind to a felonious deed; it had shaken him to the very
foundations, and, having miscarried, it had left behind in him a
profound weariness.... Conscious of his guilt, he wrenched his heart
free from all earthly things, and began to pray bitterly but zealously.
At first he prayed in a whisper, at last, accidentally, perhaps, he
ejaculated almost aloud: "O Lord!"--and the tears gushed from his
eyes.... Long did he weep, then calmed down at last.... His thoughts
probably would have undergone a change, had he been forced to smart for
his attempt of the day before ... but now he had suddenly recovered his
liberty ... and, half-alive, all shattered, but calm, he was on his way
to an interview with his wife.
Lizavéta Prókhorovna's manor stood a verst and a half distant from her
village, on the left-hand side of the country road along which Akím was
walking. At the turn which led to the manor, he was on the point of
pausing .... but he marched past. He had decided first to go to his
former cottage, to his old uncle.
Akím's tiny and already rickety cottage was situated almost at the
extreme end of the village; Akím traversed the entire length of the
street without encountering a single soul. The whole population was in
church. Only one ailing old woman lifted her window to gaze after him,
and a little girl, who had run out to the well with an empty bucket,
gaped in wonder at him and also followed him with her eyes. The first
person whom he met was precisely the uncle whom he was seeking. The old
man had been sitting since early morning on the earthen bank outside the
cottage under the windows, taking snuff, and warming himself in the sun;
he was not quite well, and for that reason had not gone to church; he
was on his way to see another ailing old man, a neighbour, when he
suddenly espied Akím.... He stopped short, let the latter come up to
him, and looking him in the face, he said:
"Morning, Akímushka!"
"Morning,"--replied Akím, and stepping past the old man, he entered the
gate to his cottage.... In the yard stood his horses, his cow, his cart;
and his chickens were roaming about there also.... He entered the
cottage in silence. The old man followed him. Akím seated himself on the
bench, and rested his clenched fists on it. The old man gazed
compassionately at him, from his stand at the door.
"And where is my housewife?"--inquired Akím.
"Why, at the manor-house,"--replied the old man, briskly. "She is there.
They have placed thy cattle here, and thy coffers, just as they
were--but she is yonder. Shall I go for her?"
Akím did not reply immediately.
"Yes, go,"--he said at last.
"Ekh, uncle, uncle,"--he articulated with a sigh, while the latter was
taking his cap from its nail:--"dost thou remember what thou saidst to
me on the eve of my wedding?"
"God's will rules all things, Akímushka."
"Dost thou remember how thou saidst to me that I was no fit mate for you
peasants--and now see what a pass things have come to.... I myself have
become as poor as a church mouse."
"A man can't make calculations against bad people,"--replied the old
man;--"and as for him, the dishonest scoundrel, if any one were to teach
him a good lesson, some gentleman, for instance, or any other
power,--what cause would there be to fear him? The wolf recognised his
prey."--And the old man put on his cap and departed.
Avdótya had but just returned from church when she was informed that her
husband's uncle was inquiring for her. Up to that time she had very
rarely seen him; he had not been in the habit of coming to their inn,
and in general he bore the reputation of being a queer fellow; he was
passionately fond of snuff, and preserved silence most of the time.
She went out to him.
"What dost thou want, Petróvitch? Has anything happened, pray?"
"Nothing has happened, Avdótya Aréfyevna; thy husband is asking for
thee."
"Has he returned?"
"Yes."
"But where is he?"
"Why, in the village; he 's sitting in his cottage."
Avdótya quailed.
"Well, Petróvitch,"--she asked, looking him straight in the eye,--"is he
angry?"
"'T is not perceptible that he is."
Avdótya dropped her eyes.
"Well, come along,"--she said, throwing on a large kerchief, and the two
set out. They walked in silence until they reached the village. But when
they began to draw near to the cottage, Avdótya was seized with such
alarm that her knees trembled under her.
"Dear little father, Petróvitch,"--she said,--"do thou go in first....
Tell him that I have come."
Petróvitch entered the cottage and found Akím sitting buried in profound
thought, on the selfsame spot where he had left him.
"Well,"--said Akím, raising his head;--"has n't she come?"
"Yes, she has come,"--replied the old man.--"She 's standing at the
gate...."
"Send her hither."
The old man went out, waved his hand to Avdótya, said to her: "Go
along!" and sat down again himself on the earthen bank along the cottage
wall. With trepidation Avdótya opened the door, crossed the threshold
and paused....
Akím looked at her.
"Well, Aréfyevna,"--he began,--"what are we--thou and I--to do now?"
"Forgive me,"--she whispered.
"Ekh, Aréfyevna, we are all sinful folks. What 's the use of discussing
it!"
"That villain has ruined both of us,"--began Avdótya in a voice which
jingled and broke, and the tears streamed down her face.--"Thou must not
let things stand as they are, Akím Semyónitch; thou must get the money
from him. Do not spare me. I am ready to declare under oath that I lent
the money to him. Lizavéta Prókhorovna had a right to sell our house,
but why should he rob us?.... Get the money from him."
"I have no money to receive from him,"--replied Akím, gloomily.--"He and
I have settled our accounts."