I
The great-grandfather of the Krasoffs, known by the manor-house
servants under the nickname of “The Gipsy,” was hunted with wolf-hounds
by Cavalry Captain Durnovo. The Gipsy had lured his lord-and-master’s
mistress away from him. Durnovo gave orders that The Gipsy should be
taken out into the fields and placed on a hillock. Then he himself went
out there with a pack of hounds and shouted “Tallyho! Go for him!” The
Gipsy, who was sitting there in a state of stupor, started to run. But
there is no use in running away from wolf-hounds.
The grandfather of the Krasoffs, for some reason or other, was given a
letter of enfranchisement. He went off with his family to the town--and
soon distinguished himself by becoming a famous thief. He hired a tiny
hovel in the Black Suburb for his wife and set her to weaving lace for
sale, while he, in company with a petty burgher named Byelokopytoff,
roamed about the province robbing churches. At the end of a couple of
years he was caught. But at his trial he bore himself in such fashion
that his replies to the judges were current for a long time thereafter.
He stood before them, it appears, in a velveteen kaftan, with a silver
watch and goat-hide boots, making insolent play with his cheek-bones
and his eyes and, in the most respectful manner, confessing every one
of his innumerable crimes, even the most insignificant: “Yes, sir. Just
so, sir.”
The father of the Krasoffs was a petty huckster. He roved about the
county, lived for a time in Durnovka, set up a pot-house and a little
shop, failed, took to drink, returned to the town, and soon died. After
serving for a while in shops his sons, Tikhon and Kuzma, who were
almost of an age, also took to peddling. They drove about in a peasant
cart which had a carved front and a roofed, shop-like arrangement in
the middle, and shouted in doleful tones: “Wo-omen, here’s merchandise!
Wo-omen, here’s merchandise!”
The merchandise consisted of small mirrors, cheap soap, rings, thread,
kerchiefs, needles, cracknels--these in the covered shop. The open-body
cart contained everything they gathered in: dead cats, eggs, heavy
linen, crash, rags. But one day, after having thus travelled about
for the space of several years, the brothers came near cutting each
other’s throats--in a dispute over the division of the profits, rumour
averred--and separated to avoid a catastrophe. Kuzma hired himself to a
drover. Tikhon took over a small posting-house on the metalled highway
of Vorgol, five versts[1] from Durnovka, and opened a dram-shop and a
tiny “popular” shop.--“I deal in small wears tea shugar tubako sigars
and so furth.”