The butler conducted Harlov to the green room, and at once ran off for
the wardroom maid, as it turned out there were no sheets on the bed.
Souvenir, who met us in the passage, and popped into the green room
with us, promptly proceeded to dance, grinning and chuckling, round
Harlov, who stood, his arms held a little away from him, and his legs
apart, in the middle of the room, seeming lost in thought. The water
was still dripping from him.
‘The Swede! The Swede, Harlus!’ piped Souvenir, doubling up and holding
his sides. ‘Mighty founder of the illustrious race of Harlovs, look
down on thy descendant! What does he look like? Dost thou recognise
him? Ha, ha, ha! Your excellency, your hand, I beg; why, have you got
on black gloves?’
I tried to restrain Souvenir, to put him to shame … but it was too late
for that now.
‘He called me parasite, toady! “You’ve no roof,” said he, “to call your
own.” But now, no doubt about it, he’s become as dependent as poor
little me. Martin Petrovitch and Souvenir, the poor toady, are equal
now. He’ll have to live on charity too. They’ll toss him the stale and
dirty crust, that the dog has sniffed at and refused.… And they’ll tell
him to eat it, too. Ha, ha, ha!’
Harlov still stood motionless, his head drawn in, his legs and arms
held a little apart.
‘Martin Harlov, a nobleman born!’ Souvenir went on shrieking. ‘What
airs he used to give himself. Just look at me! Don’t come near, or I’ll
knock you down!… And when he was so clever as to give away and divide
his property, didn’t he crow! “Gratitude!…” he cackled, “gratitude!”
But why were you so mean to me? Why didn’t you make me a present? May
be, I should have felt it more. And you see I was right when I said
they’d strip you bare, and.…’
‘Souvenir!’ I screamed; but Souvenir was in nowise daunted. Harlov
still did not stir. It seemed as though he were only now beginning to
be aware how soaking wet everything was that he had on, and was waiting
to be helped off with his clothes. But the butler had not come back.
‘And a military man too!’ Souvenir began again. ‘In the year twelve,
he saved his country; he showed proofs of his valour. I see how it is.
Stripping the frozen marauders of their breeches is work he’s quite
equal to, but when the hussies stamp their feet at him he’s frightened
out of his skin.’
‘Souvenir!’ I screamed a second time.
Harlov looked askance at Souvenir. Till that instant he seemed not
to have noticed his presence, and only my exclamation aroused his
attention.
‘Look out, brother,’ he growled huskily, ‘don’t dance yourself into
trouble.’
Souvenir fairly rolled about with laughter. ‘Ah, how you frighten me,
most honoured brother. You’re a formidable person, to be sure. You
must comb your hair, at any rate, or, God forbid, it’ll get dry, and
you’ll never wash it clean again; you’ll have to mow it with a sickle.’
Souvenir all of a sudden got into a fury. ‘And you give yourself airs
still. A poor outcast, and he gives himself airs. Where’s your home
now? you’d better tell me that, you were always boasting of it. “I have
a home of my own,” he used to say, but you’re homeless. “My ancestral
roof,” he would say.’ Souvenir pounced on this phrase as an inspiration.
‘Mr. Bitchkov,’ I protested. ‘What are you about? you forget yourself.’
But he still persisted in chattering, and still danced and pranced up
and down quite close to Harlov. And still the butler and the wardroom
maid did not come.
I felt alarmed. I began to notice that Harlov, who had, during his
conversation with my mother, gradually grown quieter, and even towards
the end apparently resigned himself to his fate, was beginning to get
worked up again. He breathed more hurriedly, it seemed as though his
face were suddenly swollen under his ears, his fingers twitched, his
eyes again began moving restlessly in the dark mask of his grim face.…
‘Souvenir, Souvenir!’ I cried. ‘Stop it, I’ll tell mamma.’
But Souvenir seemed possessed by frenzy. ‘Yes, yes, most honoured
brother,’ he began again, ‘here we find ourselves, you and I, in the
most delicate position. While your daughters, with your son-in-law,
Vladimir Vassilievitch, are having a fine laugh at you under your roof.
And you should at least curse them, as you promised. Even that you’re
not equal to. To be sure, how could you hold your own with Vladimir
Vassilievitch? Why, you used to call him Volodka, too. You call him
Volodka. _He_ is Vladimir Vassilievitch, Mr. Sletkin, a landowner, a
gentleman, while--what are you, pray?’
A furious roar drowned Souvenir’s words.… Harlov was aroused. His fists
were clenched and lifted, his face was purple, there was foam on his
drawn lips, he was shaking with rage. ‘Roof, you say!’ he thundered in
his iron voice, ‘curse, you say.… No! I will not curse them.… They
don’t care for that.… But the roof … I will tear the roof off them, and
they shall have no roof over their heads, like me. They shall learn to
know Martin Harlov. My strength is not all gone yet; they shall learn
to laugh at me!… They shall have no roof over their heads!’
I was stupefied; never in my life had I witnessed such boundless anger.
Not a man--a wild beast--paced to and fro before me. I was stupefied …
as for Souvenir, he had hidden under the table in his fright.
‘They shall not!’ Harlov shouted for the last time, and almost knocking
over the butler and the wardroom maid, he rushed away out of the
house.… He dashed headlong across the yard, and vanished through the
gates.