"Why, because we have. Knowest thou,"--pursued Akím, and his eyes began
to blaze;--"knowest thou where I spent the night? Thou dost not know? In
Naúm's cellar, bound hand and foot, like a ram, that 's where I spent
last night. I tried to burn down his house, and he caught me, did Naúm;
he 's awfully clever! And to-day he was preparing to carry me to the
town, but he pardoned me; consequently, there is no money coming to me
from him.... 'And when did I ever borrow any money of thee?' he will
say. And am I to say: 'My wife took it out from under my floor, and
carried it to thee?'--'Thy wife is a liar,' he will say. And would n't
it be a big exposure for thee, Aréfyevna? Hold thy tongue, rather, I
tell thee, hold thy tongue."
"Forgive me, Semyónitch, forgive me,"--whispered the thoroughly
frightened Avdótya.
"That 's not the point,"--replied Akím, after remaining silent for a
while:--"but what are we--thou and I--to do? We no longer have a home
... nor money either...."
"We 'll get along somehow, Akím Semyónitch;--we will ask Lizavéta
Prókhorovna and she will help us; Kiríllovna has promised me that."
"No, Aréfyevna, thou mayest ask her for thyself along with thy
Kiríllovna; thou and she are birds of a feather.[43] But I 'll tell thee
what: do thou stay here, with God's blessing. I shall not stay here.
Luckily, we have no children, and perhaps I shall not starve alone. One
person can worry along alone."
"What wilt thou do, Semyónitch--dost mean to go as carrier again?"
Akím laughed bitterly.
"A pretty carrier I would make, there 's no denying that! A fine,
dashing young fellow thou hast picked out! No, Aréfyevna, that is not
the same sort of business as marrying, for example; an old man is not
fit for it. Only I will not remain here, that 's what; I won't have
people pointing the finger at me .... understand? I shall go to pray
away my sins, Aréfyevna, that 's where I shall go."
"What sins hast thou, Semyónitch?"--articulated Avdótya, timidly.
"Well, wife, I know what they are."
"But in whose care wilt thou leave me, Semyónitch? How am I to live
without a husband?"
"In whose care shall I leave thee? Ekh, Aréfyevna, how thou sayest that,
forsooth! Much need hast thou of a husband like me, and an old man and a
ruined one to boot. The idea! Thou has dispensed with me before, thou
canst dispense with me hereafter also. And what property we have left
thou mayest take for thyself, curse it!...."
"As thou wilt, Semyónitch,"--replied Avdótya, sadly;--"thou knowest best
about that."
"Exactly so. Only, don't think that I am angry with thee, Aréfyevna.
"No, what 's the use of being angry, when .... I ought to have
discovered how things stood earlier in the day. I myself am to
blame--and I am punished."--(Akím heaved a sigh.)--"As you have made
your bed, so you must lie upon it.[44] I am advanced in years, and 't is
time for me to be thinking of my soul. The Lord Himself has brought me
to my senses. Here was I, seest thou, an old fool, who wanted to live at
his ease with a young wife.... No, brother--old man, first do thou pray,
and beat thy brow against the earth, and be patient, and fast.... And
now, go, my mother. I am very tired and I will get a bit of sleep."
And Akím stretched himself out, grunting on the bench.
Avdótya started to say something, stood for a while gazing at him, then
turned and went away....
"Well, did n't he thrash thee?"--Petróvitch asked her, as he sat, all
bent double, on the earthen bank, when she came alongside of him.
Avdótya passed him in silence.--"See there now, he did n't beat
her,"--said the old man to himself, as he grinned, ruffled up his hair,
and took a pinch of snuff.
Akím carried out his purpose. He speedily put his petty affairs in
order, and a few days after the conversation which we have transcribed,
he went, already garbed for the journey, to bid farewell to his wife,
who had settled for the time being in a tiny wing of the mistress's
manor-house. Their leave-taking did not last long.... Kiríllovna, who
chanced to be on hand, advised Akím to present himself to the mistress;
and he did so. Lizavéta Prókhorovna received him with a certain amount
of confusion, but affably permitted him to kiss her hand, and inquired
where he was intending to betake himself? He replied that he was going
first to Kíeff, and thence wherever God should grant. She lauded his
purpose, and dismissed him. From that time forth he rarely made his
appearance at home, although he never forgot to bring his mistress a
blessed bread with a particle taken out for her health....[45] But, on
the other hand, everywhere where devout Russians congregate, his gaunt
and aged but still comely and sedate face was to be seen: at the shrine
of St. Sergius, and on the White Shores, and in the Óptin Hermitage, and
in distant Valaám.[46] He went everywhere.... This year he passed you in
the ranks of the countless throng which marched in a procession of the
cross behind the holy picture of the Birth-giver of God at the Korennáya
Hermitage;[47] next year you would find him sitting with his wallet on
his back, along with other pilgrims on the porch of St. Nicholas the
Wonder-Worker in Mtzensk.... He made his appearance in Moscow nearly
every spring.
From place to place he trudged with his quiet, unhurried but unceasing
stride--'t is said that he even went to Jerusalem.... He appeared to be
perfectly composed and happy, and many persons talked about his piety
and humility, especially those people who had chanced to converse with
him.
In the meanwhile, Naúm's affairs throve exceedingly. He took hold
briskly and understandingly, and, as the saying is, went to the head
fast. Everybody in the neighbourhood knew by what means he had acquired
possession of the inn, and they knew also that Avdótya had given him her
husband's money; no one liked Naúm because of his cold and harsh
character..... They narrated with condemnation concerning him that one
day he had replied to Akím himself, who had begged alms under his
window, "God will provide," and had brought out nothing to him; but all
agreed that no more lucky man than he existed; his grain throve better
than his neighbours' grain; his bees swarmed more abundantly; even his
hens laid more eggs; his cattle never fell ill; his horses never went
lame..... For a long time Avdótya could not endure to hear his name (she
had accepted Lizavéta Prókhorovna's offer, and had again entered her
service in the capacity of head-seamstress); but eventually, her
aversion diminished somewhat; 't was said that want forced her to have
recourse to him, and he gave her a hundred rubles.... We shall not
condemn her too severely; poverty will break any one's spirit, and the
sudden revolution in her life had aged and tamed her down greatly; it is
difficult to believe how quickly she lost her good looks, how she grew
disheartened and low-spirited....
"And how did it all end?"--the reader will ask.
Thus: Naúm, after having conducted his business successfully for fifteen
years, sold his inn on profitable terms to a petty burgher.... He never
would have parted with his house if the following apparently
insignificant incident had not occurred: two mornings in succession his
dog, as it sat in front of the windows, howled in a prolonged and
mournful manner; on the second occasion he went out into the street,
gazed attentively at the howling dog, shook his head, set off for the
town, and that very day agreed on the price with a petty burgher, who
had long been trying to purchase his inn.... A week later he departed
for some distant place--out of the Government,--and what think you? that
very night the inn was burned to the ground; not even a kennel remained
intact, and Naúm's successor was reduced to beggary. The reader can
easily imagine what rumours arose in the neighbourhood concerning this
conflagration.... Evidently he carried his "luck" away with him, all
declared.... It is reported that he engaged in the grain business, and
became very wealthy. But was it for long? Other equally firm pillars
have fallen prone, and sooner or later a bad deed has a bad ending.
It is not worth while to say much about Lizavéta Prókhorovna: she is
alive to this day, and as often happens with people of that sort, she
has not changed in the least; she has not even aged much, but only seems
to have grown more lean; moreover, her penuriousness has increased to an
extreme degree, although it is difficult to understand for whom she is
always hoarding, since she has no children, and is related to no one. In
conversation she frequently alludes to Akím, and avers that ever since
she discovered all his fine qualities, she has come to cherish a great
respect for the Russian peasant. Kiríllovna has purchased her freedom
from Lizavéta Prókhorovna for a considerable sum and has married, for
love, some fair-haired young butler or other, at whose hands she endures
bitter torture; Avdótya is living, as of yore, in the woman's wing of
Lizavéta Prókhorovna's house, but has descended several rungs lower,
dresses very poorly, almost filthily, and retains not a trace of the
cityfied affectations of the fashionable maid, or the habits of a
well-to-do landlady.... No one takes any notice of her, and she herself
is glad that they do not; old Petróvitch is dead, but Akím is still
roving on pilgrimages--and God alone knows how much longer he is
destined to wander!