Peredonov was returning from the lodgings of one of his pupils. Quite
suddenly he was caught in a drizzling rain. He tried to think where he
could shelter for a while, so as not to spoil his new silk umbrella in
the rain. Across the way was a detached, two-storeyed, stone house; on
it was the brass plate of the Notary Public, Goudayevsky. The notary's
son was a pupil in the second form of the _gymnasia._ Peredonov decided
to go in. Incidentally he would make a complaint against the notary's
son.
He found both parents at home. They met him with a good deal of fuss.
Everything was done there in that way.
Nikolai Mikhailovitch Goudayevsky was a short, robust, dark man, bald
and with a long beard. His movements were impetuous and unexpected. He
seemed not to walk but to flutter along. He was small like a sparrow,
and it was always impossible to tell from his face and attitude what
he would do the next minute. In the midst of a serious conversation
he would suddenly throw out his knee, which would not so much amuse
people as perplex them as to his motive. At home or when visiting he
would sit quiet for a long time and then suddenly jump up without any
visible cause, pace quickly up and down the room, and exclaim or knock
something. In the street he would walk, then suddenly pause, or make
some gesture or gymnastic exercise, and then he would continue his
walk. On the documents which he drew up or attested Goudayevsky liked
to write ridiculous remarks, as, for example, instead of writing about
Ivan Ivanitch Ivanov that he lived on the Moscow Square in Ermillova's
house, he would write Ivan Ivanitch Ivanov who lived on the Market
Square in that quarter where it was impossible to breathe for the
stench; and so forth; and he even made a note sometimes of the number
of geese and hens kept by the man whose signature he was attesting.
Julia Goudayevskaya was a tall, slim, bony woman, passionate and
extremely sentimental, who, in spite of the disparity of their figures,
resembled her husband in certain habits: she had the same impetuous
and disproportionate movements, unlike those of other people. She was
dressed youthfully and in colours, and whenever she made her quick
movements the long variegated ribbons, with which she loved to adorn in
abundance her dress and hair, flew in all directions.
Antosha, a slender, alert boy, bowed courteously. Peredonov was
seated in the drawing-room and he immediately began to complain of
Antosha: that he was lazy, inattentive, and did not listen in class
but chattered and laughed, and was mischievous during recess. Antosha
was astonished--he did not know that he was considered such a wicked
boy--and he began to defend himself hotly. Both parents were annoyed.
"Will you be good enough to tell me," shouted the father, "in what
precisely his mischievousness consists?"
"Nika, don't defend him," cried the mother. "He shouldn't get up to
mischief."
"But what mischief has he done?" enquired the father, running, almost
rolling on his short legs.
"He's generally mischievous. He raises a racket and he fights," said
Peredonov morosely. "He's always in mischief."
"I don't fight at all," exclaimed Antosha dolefully. "Ask anyone you
like. I haven't fought with anybody."
"He doesn't let anyone pass," said Peredonov.
"Very well, I'll go to the _gymnasia_ myself and I'll ask the
inspector," said Goudayevsky decisively.
"Nika, Nika, why don't you believe him?" cried Julia. "Would you like
to see Antosha turn out a good-for-nothing? He needs a beating."
"Nonsense, nonsense!" cried the father.
"I'll give him a beating without fail," exclaimed Julia, as she caught
her son by the shoulder and was about to drag him into the kitchen.
"Antosha!" she cried. "Come along; I'll give you a whipping."
"I'll not let you have him," cried the father, tearing his son away
from her.
His mother held on to him; Antosha made despairing outcries, and the
parents tustled with each other.
"Help me, Ardalyon Borisitch," cried Julia. "Hold this monster while I
settle with Antosha."
Peredonov went to help. But Goudayevsky got his son away from Julia,
pushed her aside, sprang towards Peredonov and cried threateningly:
"Don't you come here! When two dogs are fighting the third one had
better keep away! Yes, and I'll see to you!"
Red, unkempt, perspiring, he shook his fist in the air. Peredonov
retreated, muttering inaudible words. Julia ran round her husband and
tried to catch hold of Antosha. His father hid him behind and pulled
him by the arm, now to the right, now to the left. Julia, her eyes
gleaming, cried:
"He'll grow up to be a cut-throat! He'll get into gaol! Hard labour'll
be his fate."
"A plague on your tongue!" cried Goudayevsky. "Shut up, you wicked
fool."
"Oh, you tyrant!" screamed Julia, and running up to her husband hit him
with her fist on the back and ran impetuously out of the drawing-room.
Goudayevsky clenched his fists and ran up to Peredonov.
"So you've come to raise a riot here!" he cried. "You say Antosha's
mischievous? You're a liar. He's not mischievous. And if he were, I
should know it without you; and I don't want anything to do with you.
You go about the town taking in fools. You beat their little boys, and
expect to get a Master's diploma for birching. But you've come to the
wrong place. Sir, I ask you to clear out!"
As he was saying this he jumped towards Peredonov and got him into a
corner. Peredonov was frightened and would have been glad to run away,
but Goudayevsky in his excitement did not notice that he was standing
in his way. Antosha seized hold of the tails of his father's frock-coat
and began to tug at them. His father angrily turned on him and tried to
kick him. But Antosha quickly jumped aside without, however, letting go
of his father's coat.
"Be quiet there," exclaimed Goudayevsky. "Don't forget yourself,
Antosha."
"Papotchka," cried Antosha, continuing to tug at his father's
coat-tails, "you are keeping Ardalyon Borisitch from going."
Goudayevsky quickly jumped to the side, Antosha barely managed to
escape him.
"I beg your pardon," said Goudayevsky and pointed to the door, "that's
the way out, and I won't detain you."
Peredonov quickly left the room. Goudayevsky put his fingers to his
nose at him, then made a motion with his knee as if he were kicking him
out. Antosha sniggered. Goudayevsky turned on him savagely:
"Antosha, don't forget yourself! Don't forget to-morrow. I'm going to
the _gymnasia,_ and if it's true I'll hand you over to your mother for
a whipping!"
"I wasn't mischievous. He's a liar," said Antosha piteously and in a
squeaking voice.
"Antosha, don't forget yourself," shouted his father. "You shouldn't
say that he's a liar, but that he's made a mistake. Only little boys
tell lies--grown-ups make mistakes."
In the meantime Peredonov managed to find his way into the half-dark
hall, discovered his overcoat with some difficulty and began to put it
on. His fear and nervousness hindered him from finding his sleeve. No
one came to his assistance. Quite suddenly Julia ran out from a side
door, rustling her flying ribbons, and whispered excitedly in his ear,
making wild gestures and standing on tip-toe. Peredonov did not at
first understand.
"I'm so grateful to you," he heard at last. "It's so good of you to
take such an interest in the boy. Most people are so indifferent, but
you understand a mother's difficulties. It is so hard to bring children
up; you can't imagine how hard it is. I have only two and they give me
no end of worry. My husband is a tyrant; he's a terrible, terrible man.
Don't you think so? You've seen for yourself."
"Yes," mumbled Peredonov. "Well, your husband--er--well, he shouldn't
... I give a good deal of attention to it and he ..."
"Oh, don't say any more," whispered Julia, "he's a terrible man. He's
bringing me down to my grave, and he'll be glad of it, and then he'll
corrupt my children, my dear Antosha. But I'm a mother, I won't give
him up; I'll give him a beating all the same."
"He won't let you," said Peredonov, and jerked his head in the
direction of the drawing-room.
"Wait till he goes to his club. He won't take Antosha with him! He'll
go and I shall keep quiet until then, as if I agreed with him; but once
he goes I'll give Antosha a beating and you will help me. You will help
me, won't you?"
Peredonov reflected and then said:
"Very well, but how shall I know when to come?"
"I'll send for you," whispered Julia. "You wait, and as soon as he goes
to his club I'll send for you."
In the evening Peredonov received a note from Goudayevskaya. It ran:
"MOST ESTEEMED ARDALYON BORISITCH,
"My husband has gone to his club, and now I am free from his savagery
until one o'clock. Do me the kindness to come as soon as you can and
help me with my misbehaving son. I realise that he must be rid of his
faults while he's still young, for afterwards it may be too late.
"With genuine respect,
"JULIA GOUDAYEVSKAYA.
"P.S.--Please come as soon as possible, otherwise Antosha will go to
sleep and I shall have to wake him."
Peredonov quickly put on his overcoat, wrapped a scarf round his neck
and prepared to go.
"Where are you going so late, Ardalyon Borisitch?" asked Varvara.
"I'm going on business," replied Peredonov morosely, and left abruptly.
Varvara reflected sadly that again she would be unable to sleep for
some time. If she could only hasten the marriage. Then she could sleep
both night and day--that would be bliss!
* * * * *
Once in the street, Peredonov was assailed by doubts. Suppose it was a
trap? And suppose it suddenly turned out that Goudayevsky was at home,
and they should seize him and beat him? Wouldn't it be better for him
to turn back.
"No, I'd better go as far as the house, and then I shall see,"
Peredonov decided.
The night was quiet, cold and dark. It enveloped him on all sides
and compelled him to walk slowly. Fresh gusts of wind blew from the
neighbouring fields. Light, rustling noises could be heard in the
grass along the fences, and everything around him seemed suspicious
and strange--perhaps someone was following stealthily behind and
watching him. All objects were strangely and unexpectedly concealed by
the darkness, as if another different nocturnal life awoke in them,
incomprehensible to man and hostile to him. Peredonov walked quickly in
the streets and mumbled:
"You won't gain anything by following me. I'm not going on any bad
business. I'm going in the interest of my work. So there!"
At last he reached Goudayevsky's house. A light was visible in one of
the windows facing the street; the remaining four were dark. Peredonov
ascended the steps very quietly, stood a while and put his ears to
the door and listened--everything was quiet. He lightly pulled the
brass handle of the bell--a distant, faint tinkle of a bell was heard.
But, faint though it was, it frightened Peredonov, as if this sound
would awaken all the hostile powers and make them come to this door.
Peredonov quickly ran down the steps and hid behind a post, pressing
close against the wall.
Several moments passed. Peredonov's heart jumped and beat heavily.
Presently light footsteps could be heard and the noise of a door
opening. Julia looked out into the street and her black, passionate
eyes gleamed in the darkness.
"Who's there?" she asked in a loud whisper.
Peredonov stepped a little away from the wall and looked into the
narrow opening of the door where it was dark and quiet, and asked also
in a tremulous whisper:
"Has Nikolai Mikhailovitch gone?"
"Yes, he's gone, he's gone," she whispered joyously.
Peredonov glanced timidly around him and followed her into the dark
passage.
"I'm sorry I have no light," whispered Julia, "but I'm afraid someone
might see and they might gossip."
She led Peredonov up the staircase into a corridor, where a small lamp
hung, throwing a dim light on the upper stairs. Julia laughed quietly
and joyously, and her ribbons trembled from her laughter.
"Yes, he's gone," she whispered gleefully, as she looked around and
scrutinised Peredonov with passionately burning eyes. "I was afraid
he would remain at home to-night as he was in a great rage. But
he couldn't do without his game of whist. I've even sent the maid
away--there's only the baby's nurse in the house--otherwise we might be
interrupted. For you know what sort of people there are nowadays."
A heat came from Julia--she was hot and dry, like a splinter. Once or
twice she caught Peredonov by the sleeve, and these quick contacts
seemed to send small dry fires through his whole body. They walked
quietly and on tip-toe through the corridor, past several closed doors,
and stopped at the last--it was the door of the children's room....
* * * * *
Peredonov left Julia at midnight, when she began to expect her
husband's return. He walked in the dark streets, morose and gloomy. It
seemed to him that someone had been standing by the house and was now
following him. He mumbled:
"I went on account of my work. It wasn't my fault. She wanted it
herself. You can't deceive me--you've got the wrong man."
Varvara was not yet asleep when he returned. Her cards were lying in
front of her.
It seemed to Peredonov that someone might step in when he entered. It
was possible that Varvara herself had let the enemy come in. Peredonov
said:
"If I go to sleep you'll bewitch me with the cards. Give me the cards,
or you'll bewitch me."
He took the cards away and hid them under his pillow. Varvara smiled
and said:
"You're making a fool of yourself. I haven't the power to bewitch
anyone, and as if I wanted it!"
He felt vexed and frightened because she was smiling: that meant, he
thought, that she might bewitch him even without cards. The cat was
shrinking under the bed, and his green eyes sparkled--one might be
bewitched by his fur, if it were stroked in the dark so that electric
sparks flew from it. Behind the chest of drawers the grey nedotikomka
gleamed again--was it not Varvara who called it up at nights with a
slight whistle like a snore!
Peredonov dreamed a repulsive, terrible dream: Pilnikov came, stood on
the threshold, beckoned him and smiled. It was as if someone drew him
towards Pilnikov, who led him through dark, dirty streets while the cat
ran beside and his green eyes gleamed and shone....