The family into which this blind child was born was a small one. Its
other two members were the father and “Uncle Maxim,” so called not only
by his own people, but also by friends and acquaintances. The father
was a fair example of the landowners in the southwestern district. He
was good-natured, even kindly, probably an excellent overseer of the
workmen, fond of building and making alterations in his mills. These
occupations consumed all his time; hence his voice was seldom heard
in the house except at the regular hours for dinner, lunch, or other
events of a similar character. At such times he never failed to ask his
customary question of his wife, “Are you feeling well, my dove?” After
which he would seat himself at the table, and make no further remarks
save perhaps an occasional observation on the subject of cylinders or
pinions. It might be expected that his quiet and simple existence would
find a pale reflection in the nature of his son.
Uncle Maxim was of quite a different temperament. Ten years previous
to the events we are about to describe, he had been famed for his
quarrelsome temper, not only in the vicinity of his own estate, but even
in Kiev and at the Contracts.[1] No one could understand the existence
of such a brother in a family so respectable as that of Pani[2]
Popèlska, née Yatzènko. Amicable relations with such a man were out of
the question, for it was impossible to please him. He insolently repelled
the advances of the Pans,[3] and overlooked an amount of wilfulness
and impertinence on the part of the peasants, which would have been
punished with blows by even the mildest among the nobility. Finally, to
the great joy of all respectable persons, Uncle Maxim for reasons best
known to himself became very much displeased with the Austrians, and
departed for Italy. There he joined Garibaldi, a heathen soldier, who
like himself delighted in fighting,—and who, as it was rumored among the
Pan-landlords, was in league with the devil, and showed no reverence
for the Pope. By such actions Maxim of course imperilled forever his
restless, heretical soul; but on the occasion of the Contracts fewer
scandals took place, and many an excellent mother felt more at ease
concerning the welfare of her sons.
The Austrians, on their part, were doubtless angry with Uncle Maxim. Now
and then his name appeared in the “Courier,”—a favorite old paper of the
Pan-landlords,—united with those of Garibaldi’s most daring comrades;
and one day the Pans read in the same “Courier” that Uncle Maxim had
fallen with his horse on the battle-field. The enraged Austrians, who had
long been waiting for a chance to attack this desperate Volynian,[4] who
in the opinion of his countrymen was Garibaldi’s mainstay and support,
chopped him in pieces like cabbage. “Maxim’s was a sad end,” said the
Pans, and ascribed it to the immediate interposition of Saint Peter in
behalf of his representative on earth. Maxim was reckoned among the dead.
Subsequently, however, it became known that the Austrian sabres had no
power to expel Maxim’s obstinate spirit, and that it still dwelt in his
considerably damaged body. The Garibaldians, rescuing their worthy
comrade from the fray, had carried him to some hospital, and, lo! after
a few years Maxim unexpectedly appeared in his sister’s house, where he
ever after remained.
But Maxim could fight no more duels. He had lost his right foot, and was
obliged to use a crutch, while his left leg was so injured as to require
him to use also a cane. On the whole he had lost much of his former
excitability, and it was only occasionally that his sharp tongue did
duty for his sword. He ceased to visit the Contracts, seldom appeared in
society, and spent most of his time in the library reading; but in regard
to the contents of the books, save for the _a priori_ supposition that
they must be atheistic, no one had the faintest idea. He also wrote from
time to time; but as his compositions never appeared in the “Courier,”
they were supposed to be quite insignificant.
About the time when the little new being entered upon its career in the
country house, one might have noticed streaks of silver gray in Uncle
Maxim’s closely cropped hair. From the constant use of crutch and cane
he had grown high shouldered, which gave to his figure a certain square
effect. His peculiar aspect, his knitted brows, the clatter of his crutch
and cane, and the clouds of tobacco smoke in which he was constantly
enveloped, since he never took the pipe from his mouth,—all these things
intimidated strangers, and only those who lived with him knew that his
crippled body held a warm and kind heart, and that his large square
head covered with thick bristling hair was the seat of constant mental
activity.
But those who were nearer to him had but a vague notion of the problems
that perplexed and absorbed Uncle Maxim’s mind at this time. They only
knew that he would sit motionless for hours at a time, enveloped in a
cloud of blue smoke, with knitted eye-brows and a far-away look in his
eyes. Meanwhile this crippled warrior was pondering upon the battle
of life, and feeling that there was no room in it for invalids. He
pictured himself as having left the ranks forever, and he felt like a man
encumbering the hospital ambulance. He was like a knight, unseated and
overthrown in the conflict of life. Did it not show a lack of courage to
crawl in the dust like a crushed worm? Would it not be a coward’s part to
grasp the stirrup of the conqueror, and beg for the sorry remnant of his
own life?
While Uncle Maxim was calmly considering this vital question with all
its _pros_ and _cons_, a new being appeared before his eyes, whose fate
it was to enter life an invalid from his very birth. At first Maxim paid
but little heed to the blind child, but as time went on, the singular
likeness between the boy’s fate and his own interested him. “Hm! Hm!”
he thoughtfully muttered to himself as he looked at the child from the
corner of his eyes, “this chap is also an invalid. If we two could be put
together, one useful man might be made of us.” And after that he gazed at
the child more and more frequently.