The weather suddenly changed.... A wonderful early spring seemed to be
replaced by late, cold autumn.... It rained hard for days and the wind
howled amid the rain and the fog.
One cold morning of this kind I awoke late and was trying to guess the
time when I heard a light noise and a strange whistle in the hall by the
door. I opened and saw some living creature in a dark corner. Yes! it was
Ivan Ivanovich. He trembled all over, was blue, and looked at me with his
appealing, timid eyes. It was the look of a frightened animal near its
end.
“Your weakness again?” I asked kindly.
“Yes,” he answered humbly and briefly, and he started to straighten his
clothing. He was again wearing an impossible cassock, he had no hat, and
on his bare feet were rough shoes.
Avtonomov soon made his appearance. He was drunk and unpleasantly bold.
He spoke in affectedly grandiloquent phrases, acted like an old friend,
and from time to time in his reminiscences of our wanderings he made
spicy allusions to a certain soldier’s wife.... In his eyes gleamed an
evil passion and in him I recognized again the preacher in the monastery
courtyard,—and readiness for any evil deed. He never said a word about
his visit to his sister....
“Listen ... Dearie, ...” he turned to the maid.... “The other time I left
a cassock with you.... It’s still fit to be worn.... Your present was
unlucky,” he added, looking impudently at me.... “We were robbed near
Uglich ... and they took absolutely everything we had. A merchant cheated
you on those felt shoes, that’s easy to see.... Cheap goods, cheap....
They fell all to pieces....”
He condescendingly patted my shoulder.
Ivan Ivanovich looked at his protector reproachfully. We parted quite
coldly, but everyone in my house felt sincere sympathy and pity for Ivan
Ivanovich.
After that, from time to time, I heard from my accidental comrades. These
messages were usually brought by people in cloaks and cassocks and with
more or less clear indications of “weakness” they gave me greetings or
notes and they showed how disillusioned they felt, when they saw the
meagreness of the reward which they received. Once during the fair a
fellow appeared totally drunk and very evil looking, but he handed me a
note with as much mysterious familiarity as if it had been from a mutual
friend and confidant.
In the note a very shaky and uneven hand had scribbled:
“Dear friend. Receive the bearer as you would me. He is our friend and
can tell you everything; incidentally give him money and clothing.... His
trousers are pretty bad.... Gennady Avtonomov.”
One glance was enough to show that the agent was really in dire need
of trousers.... But in spite of his intoxication, his eyes quickly and
curiously ran over the contents of my rooms, and they showed well the
results of professional training....
When he left, I heard an unpleasant noise and I had to run to the
assistance of my good neighbors.
X
About two years passed, before I again met my former companions.
One hot summer’s day, I had crossed the Volga on a ferry and a pair of
horses was dragging us over the sands of the bank to the foot of a hill.
The sun had set, but it was intolerably hot. It seemed as if whole waves
of heat were being wafted from the gleaming river. Flies hung in clouds
over the horses, the bells rang unevenly, and the wheels dragged in the
deep sand.... Half way up the hill a monastery nestled among the trees
and as it looked down on the river out of the rising mist, it seemed to
be suspended in midair.
Suddenly the coachman stopped his weary team at the very foot of the hill
and ran along the bank. A quarter of a verst away on the rocky and pebbly
edge of the river was a black group of people directly between us and the
sun.
“Something’s happened,” said my companion.