Souvenir, who had been drinking continuously ever since the beginning
of luncheon, suddenly got up from his chair as red as a beetroot, and
pointing his finger at Martin Petrovitch, went off into his mawkish,
paltry laugh.
‘Generous-hearted! Generous-hearted!’ he began croaking; ‘but we
shall see whether this generosity will be much to his taste when he’s
stripped naked, the servant of God … and out in the snow, too!’
‘What rot are you talking, fool?’ said Harlov contemptuously.
‘Fool! fool!’ repeated Souvenir. ‘God Almighty alone knows which of us
is the real fool. But you, brother, did my sister, your wife, to her
death, and now you’ve done for yourself … ha-ha-ha!’
‘How dare you insult our honoured benefactor?’ Sletkin began shrilly,
and, tearing himself away from Martin Petrovitch, whose shoulder he had
clutched, he flew at Souvenir. ‘But let me tell you, if our benefactor
desires it, we can cancel the deed this very minute!’
‘And yet, you’ll strip him naked, and turn him out into the snow …’
returned Souvenir, retreating behind Kvitsinsky.
‘Silence!’ thundered Harlov. ‘I’ll pound you into a jelly! And you hold
your tongue too, puppy!’ he turned to Sletkin; ‘don’t put in your word
where you’re not wanted! If I, Martin Petrovitch Harlov, have decided
to make a deed of partition, who can cancel the same act against my
will? Why, in the whole world there is no power.…’
‘Martin Petrovitch!’ the attorney began in a mellow bass--he too had
drunk a good deal, but his dignity was only increased thereby--‘but how
if the gentleman has spoken the truth? You have done a generous action;
to be sure, but how if--God forbid--in reality in place of fitting
gratitude, some affront come of it?’
I stole a glance at both Martin Petrovitch’s daughters. Anna’s eyes
were simply pinned upon the speaker, and a face more spiteful, more
snake-like, and more beautiful in its very spite I had certainly never
seen! Evlampia sat turned away, with her arms folded. A smile more
scornful than ever curved her full, rosy lips.
Harlov got up from his chair, opened his mouth, but apparently his
tongue failed him.… He suddenly brought his fist down on the table, so
that everything in the room danced and rang.
‘Father,’ Anna said hurriedly, ‘they do not know us, and that is why
they judge of us so. But don’t, please, make yourself ill. You are
angered for nothing, indeed; see, your face is, as it were, twisted
awry.’
Harlov looked towards Evlampia; she did not stir, though Zhitkov,
sitting beside her, gave her a poke in the side.
‘Thank you, my daughter Anna,’ said Harlov huskily; ‘you are a sensible
girl; I rely upon you and on your husband too.’ Sletkin once more gave
vent to a shrill little sound; Zhitkov expanded his chest and gave a
little scrape with his foot; but Harlov did not observe his efforts.
‘This dolt,’ he went on, with a motion of his chin in the direction of
Souvenir, ‘is pleased to get a chance to teaze me; but you, my dear
sir,’ he addressed himself to the attorney, ‘it is not for you to pass
judgment on Martin Harlov; that is something beyond you. Though you are
a man in official position, your words are most foolish. Besides, the
deed is done, there will be no going back from my determination.… Now,
I will wish you good-day, I am going away. I am no longer the master of
this house, but a guest in it. Anna, do you do your best; but I will go
to my own room. Enough!’
Martin Petrovitch turned his back on us, and, without adding another
word, walked deliberately out of the room.
This sudden withdrawal on the part of our host could not but break
up the party, especially as the two hostesses also vanished not long
after. Sletkin vainly tried to keep us. The police captain did not fail
to blame the attorney for his uncalled-for candour. ‘Couldn’t help it!’
the latter responded.… ‘My conscience spoke.’
‘There, you see that he’s a mason,’ Souvenir whispered to me.
‘Conscience!’ retorted the police captain. ‘We know all about your
conscience! I suppose it’s in your pocket, just the same as it is with
us sinners!’
The priest, meanwhile, even though already on his feet, foreseeing the
speedy termination of the repast, lifted mouthful after mouthful to his
mouth without a pause.
‘You’ve got a fine appetite, I see,’ Sletkin observed to him sharply.
‘Storing up for the future,’ the priest responded with a meek grimace;
years of hunger were expressed in that reply.
The carriages rattled up … and we separated. On the way home, no
one hindered Souvenir’s chatter and silly tricks, as Kvitsinsky
had announced that he was sick of all this ‘wholly superfluous’
unpleasantness, and had set off home before us on foot. In his place,
Zhitkov took a seat in our coach. The retired major wore a most
dissatisfied expression, and kept twitching his moustaches like a
spider.
‘Well, your noble Excellency,’ lisped Souvenir, ‘is subordination
exploded, eh? Wait a bit and see what will happen! They’ll give you the
sack too. Ah, a poor bridegroom you are, a poor bridegroom, an unlucky
bridegroom!’
Souvenir was positively beside himself; while poor Zhitkov could do
nothing but twitch his moustaches.
When I got home I told my mother all I had seen. She heard me to the
end, and shook her head several times. ‘It’s a bad business,’ was her
comment. ‘I don’t like all these innovations!’