‘How have they turned you out?’ my mother asked, as soon as he had a
little time to recover himself.
‘Madam! Natalia Nikolaevna!’ he began, in a strained voice,--and again
I was struck by the uneasy straying of his eyes; ‘I will tell you the
truth; I am myself most of all to blame.’
‘Ay, to be sure; you would not listen to me at the time,’ assented
my mother, sinking into an arm-chair and slightly moving a scented
handkerchief before her nose; very strong was the smell that came from
Harlov … the odour in a forest bog is not so strong.
‘Alas! that’s not where I erred, madam, but through pride. Pride has
been my ruin, as it ruined the Tsar Navuhodonosor. I fancied God had
given me my full share of sense, and if I resolved on anything, it
followed it was right; so … and then the fear of death came … I was
utterly confounded! “I’ll show,” said I, “to the last, my power and my
strength! I’ll bestow all on them,--and they must feel it all their
lives.…”’ (Harlov suddenly was shaking all over.…) ‘Like a mangy dog
they have driven me out of the house! This is their gratitude!’
‘In what way----,’ my mother was beginning.…
‘They took my page, Maximka, from me,’ Harlov interrupted her (his eyes
were still wandering, he held both hands--the fingers interlaced--under
his chin), ‘my carriage they took away, my monthly allowance they cut
down, did not pay me the sum specified, cut me short all round, in
fact; still I said nothing, bore it all! And I bore it by reason …
alas! of my pride again. That my cruel enemies might not say, “See, the
old fool’s sorry for it now”; and you too, do you remember, madam, had
warned me; “mind you, it’s all to no purpose,” you said! and so I bore
it.… Only, to-day I came into my room, and it was occupied already, and
my bed they’d thrown out into the lumber-room! “You can sleep there; we
put up with you there even only out of charity; we’ve need of your room
for the household.” And this was said to me by whom? Volodka Sletkin!
the vile hound, the base cur!’
Harlov’s voice broke.
‘But your daughters? What did they do?’ asked my mother.
‘But I bore it all,’ Harlov went on again; ‘bitterness, bitterness
was in my heart, let me tell you, and shame.… I could not bear to look
upon the light of day! That was why I was unwilling to come and see
you, ma’am, from this same feeling, from shame for my disgrace! I have
tried everything, my good friend; kindness, affection, and threats,
and I reasoned with them, and more besides! I bowed down before them …
like this.’ (Harlov showed how he had bowed down.) ‘And all in vain.
And all of it I bore! At the beginning, at first, I’d very different
thoughts; I’ll up, I thought, and kill them. I’ll crush them all, so
that not a trace remains of them!… I’ll let them know! Well, but after,
I submitted! It’s a cross, I thought, laid upon me; it’s to bid me make
ready for death. And all at once, to-day, driven out, like a cur! And
by whom? Volodka! And you asked about my daughters; they’ve no will of
their own at all. They’re Volodka’s slaves! Yes!’
My mother wondered. ‘In Anna’s case I can understand that; she’s a
wife.… But how comes it your second.…’
‘Evlampia? She’s worse than Anna! She’s altogether given herself up
into Volodka’s hands. That’s the reason she refused your soldier, too.
At his, at Volodka’s bidding. Anna, to be sure, ought to resent it, and
she can’t bear her sister, but she submits! He’s bewitched them, the
cursed scoundrel! Though she, Anna, I daresay, is pleased to think that
Evlampia, who was always so proud,--and now see what she’s come to!… O
… alas … alas! God, my God!’
My mother looked uneasily towards me. I moved a little away as a
precautionary measure, for fear I should be sent away altogether.…
‘I am very sorry indeed, Martin Petrovitch,’ she began, ‘that my former
protégé has caused you so much sorrow, and has turned out so badly. But
I, too, was mistaken in him.… Who could have expected this of him?’
‘Madam,’ Harlov moaned out, and he struck himself a blow on the chest,
‘I cannot bear the ingratitude of my daughters! I cannot, madam! You
know I gave them everything, everything! And besides, my conscience
has been tormenting me. Many things … alas! many things I have thought
over, sitting by the pond, fishing. “If you’d only done good to any
one in your life!” was what I pondered upon, “succoured the poor, set
the peasants free, or something, to atone for having wrung their lives
out of them. You must answer for them before God! Now their tears are
revenged.” And what sort of life have they now? It was a deep pit
even in my time--why disguise my sins?--but now there’s no seeing the
bottom! All these sins I have taken upon my soul; I have sacrificed my
conscience for my children, and for this I’m laughed to scorn! Kicked
out of the house, like a cur!’
‘Don’t think about that, Martin Petrovitch,’ observed my mother.
‘And when he told me, your Volodka,’ Harlov went on with fresh force,
‘when he told me I was not to live in my room any more,--I laid every
plank in that room with my own hands,--when he said that to me,--God
only knows what passed within me! It was all confusion in my head, and
like a knife in my heart.… Either to cut his throat or get away out of
the house!… So, I have run to you, my benefactress, Natalia Nikolaevna
… where had I to lay my head? And then the rain, the filth … I fell
down twenty times, maybe! And now … in such unseemly.…’
Harlov scanned himself and moved restlessly in his chair, as though
intending to get up.
‘Say no more, Martin Petrovitch,’ my mother interposed hurriedly; ‘what
does that signify? That you’ve made the floor dirty? That’s no great
matter! Come, I want to make you a proposition. Listen! They shall take
you now to a special room, and make you up a clean bed,--you undress,
wash, and lie down and sleep a little.…’
‘Natalia Nikolaevna! There’s no sleeping for me!’ Harlov responded
drearily. ‘It’s as though there were hammers beating in my brain! Me!
like some good-for-nothing beast!…’
‘Lie down and sleep,’ my mother repeated insistently. ‘And then we’ll
give you some tea,--yes, and we’ll have a talk. Don’t lose heart, old
friend! If they’ve driven you out of _your_ house, in _my_ house you
will always find a home.… I have not forgotten, you know, that you
saved my life.’
‘Benefactress!’ moaned Harlov, and he covered his face with his hand.
‘_You_ must save me now!’
This appeal touched my mother almost to tears. ‘I am ready and eager
to help you, Martin Petrovitch, in everything I am able. But you must
promise me that you will listen to me in future and dismiss every evil
thought from you.’
Harlov took his hands from his face. ‘If need be,’ he said, ‘I can
forgive them, even!’
My mother nodded her head approvingly. ‘I am very glad to see you in
such a truly Christian frame of mind, Martin Petrovitch; but we will
talk of that later. Meanwhile, you put yourself to rights, and, most of
all, sleep. Take Martin Petrovitch to what was the master’s room, the
green room,’ said my mother, addressing the butler, ‘and whatever he
asks for, let him have it on the spot! Give orders for his clothes to
be dried and washed, and ask the housekeeper for what linen is needed.
Do you hear?’
‘Yes, madam,’ responded the butler.
‘And as soon as he’s asleep, tell the tailor to take his measure; and
his beard will have to be shaved. Not at once, but after.’
‘Yes, madam,’ repeated the butler. ‘Martin Petrovitch, kindly come.’
Harlov got up, looked at my mother, was about to go up to her, but
stopped, swinging a bow from the waist, crossed himself three times to
the image, and followed the steward. Behind him, I, too, slipped out of
the room.