Among Russian intelligents, as has already been noted by many, there is
a decent quantity of wonderful people; true children of the Russian
land and culture, who would be able heroically, without the quivering
of a single muscle, to look straight in the face of death; who are
capable for the sake of an idea of bearing unconceivable privations and
sufferings, equal to torture; but then, these people are lost before
the haughtiness of a doorman; shrink from the yelling of a laundress;
while into a police station they enter in an insufferable and timid
distress. And precisely such a one was Lichonin. On the following day
(yesterday it had been impossible on account of a holiday and the
lateness), having gotten up very early and recollecting that to-day he
had to take care of Liubka’s passport, he felt just as bad as when in
former times, as a high-school boy, he went to an examination, knowing
that he would surely fall through. His head ached, while his arms and
legs somehow seemed another’s; in addition, a drizzling and seemingly
dirty rain had been falling on the street since morning. “Always, now,
when there’s some unpleasantness in store, there is inevitably a rain
falling,” reflected Lichonin, dressing slowly.
It was not especially far from his street to the Yamskaya, not more
than two-thirds of a mile. In general, he was not infrequently in those
parts, but he had never had occasion to go there in the daytime; and on
the way it seemed to him all the time that every one he met, every
cabby and policeman, was looking at him with curiosity, with reproach,
or with disdain, as though surmising the destination of his journey. As
always on a nasty and muggy morning, all the faces that met his eyes
seemed pale, ugly, with monstrously underlined defects. Scores of times
he imagined all that he would say in the beginning at the house; and
later at the station house; and every time the outcome was different.
Angry at himself for this premature rehearsal, he would at times stop
himself:
“Ah! You mustn’t think, you mustn’t presuppose what you’re going to
say. It always turns out far better when it’s done right off...”
And then again imaginary dialogues would run through his head:
“You have no right to hold this girl against her wish.”
“Yes, but let her herself give notice about going away.”
“I act at her instruction.”
“All right; but how can you prove this?” and again he would mentally
cut himself short.
The city common began, on which cows were browsing; a board sidewalk
along a fence; shaky little bridges over little brooklets and ditches.
Then he turned into the Yamskaya. In the house of Anna Markovna all the
windows were closed with shutters, with openings, in the form of
hearts, cut out in the middle. And all of the remaining houses on the
deserted street, desolated as though after a pestilence, were closed as
well. With a contracting heart Lichonin pulled the bell-handle.
A maid, barefooted, with skirt caught up, with a wet rag in her hand,
with face striped from dirt, answered the bell—she had just been
washing the floor.
“I’d like to see Jennka,” timidly requested Lichonin.
“Well, now, the young lady is busy with a guest. They haven’t waked up
yet.”
“Well, Tamara then.”
The maid looked at him mistrustfully.
“Miss Tamara—I don’t know... I think she’s busy too. But what you
want—to pay a visit, or what?”
“Ah, isn’t it all the same! A visit, let’s say.”
“I don’t know. I’ll go and look. Wait a while.”
She went away, leaving Lichonin in the half-dark drawing room. The blue
pillars of dust, coming from the openings in the shutters, pierced the
heavy obscurity in all directions. Like hideous spots stood out of the
gray murkiness the bepainted furniture and the sweetish oleographs on
the walls. It smelt of yesterday’s tobacco, of dampness, sourness; and
of something else peculiar, indeterminate, uninhabited, of which places
that are lived in only temporarily always smell in the morning—such as
empty theatres, dance-halls, auditoriums. Far off in the city a droshky
rumbled intermittently. The wall-clock monotonously ticked behind the
wall. In a strange agitation Lichonin walked back and forth through the
drawing room and rubbed and kneaded his trembling hands, and for some
reason was stooping and felt cold.
“I shouldn’t have started all this false comedy,” he thought with
irritation. “It goes without saying that I’ve now become the by-word of
the entire university. The devil nudged me! And even during the day
yesterday it wasn’t too late, when she was saying that she was ready to
go back. All I had to do was to give her for a cabby and a little pin
money, and she’d have gone, and all would have been fine; and I would
be independent now, free, and wouldn’t be undergoing this tormenting
and ignominious state of spirits. But it’s too late to retreat now.
To-morrow it’ll be still later, and the day after to-morrow—still more.
Having pulled off one fool stunt, it must be immediately put a stop to;
but on the other hand, if you don’t do that in time, it draws two
others after it, and they—twenty new ones. Or, perhaps, it’s not too
late now? Why, she’s silly, undeveloped, and, probably, a hysteric,
like the rest of them. She’s an animal, fit only for stuffing herself
and for the bed. Oh! The devil!” Lichonin forcefully squeezed his
cheeks and his forehead between his hands and shut his eyes. “And if I
had but held out against the common, coarse, physical temptation!
There, you see for yourself, this has happened twice already; and then
it’ll go on and on ...”
But side by side with these ran other thoughts, opposed to them:
“But then, I’m a man. I am master of my word. For that which urged me
on to this deed was splendid, noble, lofty. I remember very well that
rapture which seized me when my thought transpired into action! That
was a pure, tremendous feeling. Or was it simply an extravagance of the
mind, whipped up by alcohol; the consequence of a sleepless night,
smoking, and long, abstract conversations?”
And immediately Liubka would appear before him, appear at a distance,
as though out of the misty depths of time; awkward, timid, with her
homely and endearing face, which had at once come to seem of infinitely
close kinship; long, long familiar, and at the same time
unpleasant—unjustly, without cause.
“Can it be that I’m a coward and a rag?” cried Lichonin inwardly and
wrung his hands. “What am I afraid of, before whom am I embarrassed?
Have I not always prided myself upon being sole master of my life?
Let’s suppose, even, that the phantasy, the extravagance, of making a
psychological experiment upon a human soul—a rare experiment,
unsuccessful in ninety-nine percent—has entered my head. Is it possible
that I must render anybody an account in this, or fear anybody’s
opinion? Lichonin! Look down upon mankind from above!”
Jennie walked into the room, dishevelled, sleepy, in a night jacket on
top of a white underskirt.
“A-a!” she yawned, extending her hand to Lichonin. “How d’you do, my
dear student! How does your Liubochka feel herself in the new place?
Call me in as a guest some time. Or are you spending your honeymoon on
the quiet? Without any outside witnesses?”
“Drop the silly stuff, Jennechka. I came about the passport.”
“So-o. About the passport,” Jennka went into thought. “That is, there’s
no passport here, but you must take a blank from the housekeeper. You
understand, our usual prostitute’s blank; and then they’ll exchange it
for you for a real book at the station house. Only you see, my dear, I
will be but ill help to you in this business. They are as like as not
to beat me up if I come near a housekeeper or a porter. But here’s what
you do. You’d best send the maid for the housekeeper; tell her to say
that a certain guest, now, a steady one, has come on business; that
it’s very urgent to see her personally. But you must excuse me—I’m
going to back out, and don’t you be angry, please. You know
yourself—charity begins at home. But why should you hang around by
yourself in this here darkness? You’d better go into the cabinet. If
you want to, I’ll send you beer there. Or, perhaps you want coffee? Or
else,” and her eyes sparkled slyly, “or else a girlie, perhaps? Tamara
is busy, but may be Niura or Verka will do?”
“Stop it, Jennie! I came about a serious and important matter, but you
...”
“Well, well, I won’t, I won’t! I said it just so. I see that you
observe faithfulness. That’s very noble on your part. Let’s go, then.”
She led him into the cabinet, and, opening the inner bolt of the
shutter, threw it wide open. The daylight softly and sadly splashed
against the red and gold walls, over the candelabra, over the soft red
velveteen furniture.
“Right here it began,” reflected Lichonin with sad regret.
“I am going,” said Jennka. “Don’t you knuckle down too much before her,
and Simeon too. Abuse them for all you’re worth. It’s daytime now, and
they won’t dare do anything to you. If anything happens, tell them
straight that, now, you’re going to the governor immediately and are
going to tell on them. Tell ’em, that they’ll be closed up and put out
of town in twenty-four hours. Bawl ’em out and they get like silk.
Well, now, I wish you success.”
She went away. After ten minutes had passed, into the cabinet floated
Emma Edwardovna, the housekeeper, in a blue satin PEGNOIR; corpulent,
with an important face, broadening from the forehead down to the
cheeks, just like a monstrous squash; with all her massive chins and
breasts; with small, keen eyes, without eyelashes; with thin,
malicious, compressed lips. Lichonin, arising, pressed the puffy hand
extended to him, studded with rings, and suddenly thought with
aversion:
“The devil take it! If this vermin had a soul, if it were possible to
read this soul—then how many direct and indirect murders are lurking
hidden within it!”
It must be said, that in starting out for the Yamkas, Lichonin, besides
money, had fetched a revolver along with him; and on the road, while
walking, he had frequently shoved his hand into his pocket and had
there felt the chill contact of the metal. He expected affront,
violence, and was prepared to meet them in a suitable manner. But, to
his amazement, all that he had presupposed and had feared proved a
timorous, fantastic fiction. The business was far more simple, more
wearisome and more prosaic, and at the same time more unpleasant.
“JA, MEIN HERR,” said the housekeeper indifferently and somewhat
loftily, settling into a low chair and lighting a cigarette. “You pay
for one night and instead of that took already the girl for one more
night and one more day. ALSO, you owe twenty-five more roubles yet.
When we let off a girlie for a night we take ten roubles, and for the
twenty-four hours twenty-five roubles. That’s a tax, like. Don’t you
want a smoke, young man?” she stretched out her case, and Lichonin,
without himself knowing why, took a cigarette.
“I wanted to talk with you about something else entirely.”
“O! Don’t trouble yourself to speak: I understand everything very well.
Probably the young man wants to take these girl, those Liubka,
altogether to himself to set her up, or in order to—how do you Russians
call it?—in order to safe her? Yes, yes, yes, that happens. Twenty-two
years I live in a brothel, and I know, that this happens with very
foolish young peoples. But only I assure you, that from this will come
nothing out.”
“Whether it will come out or whether it won’t come out—that is already
my affair,” answered Lichonin dully, looking down at his fingers,
trembling on his knees.
“O, of course, it’s your affair, my young student,” and the flabby
cheeks and majestic chins of Emma Edwardovna began to jump from
inaudible laughter. “From my soul I wish for you love and friendship;
but only trouble yourself to tell this nasty creature, this Liubka,
that she shouldn’t dare to show even her nose here, when you throw her
out into the street like a little doggie. Let her croak from hunger
under a fence, or go into a half-rouble establishment for the
soldiers!”
“Believe me, she won’t return. I ask you merely to give me her
certificate, without delay.”
“The certificate? ACH, if you please! Even this very minute. Only I
will first trouble you to pay for everything that she took here on
credit. Have a look, here is her account book. I took it along with me
on purpose. I knew already with what our conversation would end.” She
took out of the slit of her PEGNOIR—showing Lichonin for just a minute
her fat, full-fleshed, yellow, enormous breast—a little book in a black
cover, with the heading: ACCOUNT OF MISS IRENE VOSCHHENKOVA IN THE
HOUSE OF ILL-FAME, MAINTAINED BY ANNA MARKOVNA SHAIBES, ON YAM-SKAYA
STREET, NO. SO-AND-SO, and extended it to him across the table.
Lichonin turned over the first page and read through four or five
paragraphs of the printed rules. There dryly and briefly it was stated
that the account book consists of two copies, of which one is kept by
the proprietress while the other remains with the prostitute; that all
income and expense were entered into both books; that by agreement the
prostitute receives board, quarters, heat, light, bed linen, baths and
so forth, and for this pays out to the proprietress in no case more
than two-thirds of her earnings; while out of the remaining money she
is bound to dress neatly and decently, having no less than two dresses
for going out. Further, mention was made of the fact that payment was
made with the help of stamps, which the proprietress gives out to the
prostitute upon receipt of money from her; while the account is drawn
up at the end of every month. And, finally, that the prostitute can at
any time leave the house of prostitution, even if there does remain a
debt of hers, which, however, she binds herself to cancel on the basis
of general civil laws.
Lichonin prodded the last point with his finger, and, having turned the
face of the book to the housekeeper, said triumphantly:
“Aha! There, you see: she has the right to leave the house at any time.
Consequently, she can at any time quit your abominable dive of
violence, baseness, and depravity, in which you ...” Lichonin began
rattling off, but the housekeeper calmly cut him short:
“O! I have no doubt of this. Let her go away. Let her only pay the
money.”
“What about promissory notes? She can give promissory notes.”
“Pst! Promissory notes! In the first place, she’s illiterate; while in
the second, what are her promissory notes worth? A spit and no more.
Let her find a surety who would be worthy of trust, and then I have
nothing against it.”
“But, then, there’s nothing said in the rules about sureties.”
“There’s many a thing not said! In the rules it also does not say that
it’s permitted to carry a girlie out of the house, without giving
warning to the owners.”
“But in any case you’ll have to give me her blank.”
“I will never do such a foolishness! Come here with some respectable
person and with the police; and let the police certify that this friend
of yours is a man of means; and let this man stand surety for you; and
let, besides that, the police certify that you are not taking the girl
in order to trade in her, or to sell her over to another
stablishment—then as you please! Hand and foot!”
“The devil!” exclaimed Lichonin. “But if that surety will be I, I
myself! If I’ll sign your promissory notes right away ...”
“Young man! I don’t know what you are taught in your different
universities, but is it possible that you reckon me such a positive
fool? God grant, that you have, besides those which are on you, still
some other pants! God grant, that you should even the day after have
for dinner the remnants of sausages from the sausage shop, and yet you
say—a promissory note! What are you bothering my head for?”
Lichonin grew completely angry. He drew his wallet out of his pocket
and slapped it down on the table.
“In that case I pay in cash and immediately!”
“ACH, that’s a business of another kind,” sweetly, but still with
mistrust, the housekeeper intoned. “I will trouble you to turn the
page, and see what the bill of your beloved is.”
“Keep still, you carrion!”
“I’m still, you fool,” calmly responded the housekeeper.
On the small ruled pages on the left side was designated the income, on
the right were the expenses.
“Received in stamps, 15th of April,” read Lichonin, “10 roubles; 16th—4
roubles; 17th—12 roubles; 18th—sick; 19th—sick; 20th—6 roubles; 21st—24
roubles.”
“My God!” with loathing, with horror, reflected Lichonin. “Twelve men
in one night!”
At the end of the month stood:
“Total 330 roubles.”
“Lord! Why, this is some sort of delirium! One hundred and sixty-five
visits,” thought Lichonin, having mechanically calculated it, and still
continued turning the pages. Then he went over to the columns on the
right.
“Made, a red dress of silk with lace 84 roubles Dressmaker Eldokimova.
Dressing sack of lace 35 roubles Dressmaker Eldokimova. Silk stockings
6 pair 36 roubles,” &c., &c. “Given for cab-fare, given for candy,
perfumes bought,” &c., &c. “Total 205 roubles.” After that from the 330
roubles were deducted 220 roubles—the share of the proprietress for
board and lodging. The figure of 110 roubles resulted. The end of the
monthly account declared:
“Total after the payment to the dressmaker and for other articles, of
110 roubles, a debt of ninety-five (95) roubles remains for Irene
Voschhenkova and with the four hundred and eighteen roubles remaining
from last year—five hundred and thirteen (513) roubles.”
Lichonin’s spirits fell. He did try, at first, to be indignant at the
expensiveness of the materials supplied; but the housekeeper retorted
with SANG FROID that that did not concern her at all; that the
establishment demanded only that the girl dress decently, as becomes a
girl from a decent, genteel house; while it did not concern itself with
the rest. The establishment merely extended her credit in paying her
expenses.
“But this is a vixen, a spider in human shape—this dressmaker of
yours!” yelled Lichonin beside himself. “Why, she’s in a conspiracy
with you, cupping glass that you are, you abominable tortoise!
Scuttlefish! Where’s your conscience?”
The more agitated he grew, the more calm and jeering Emma Edwardovna
became.
“Again I repeat: that is not my business. And you, young man, don’t
express yourself like that, because I will call the porter, and he will
throw you out of the door.”
Lichonin was compelled to bargain with the cruel woman long, brutally,
till he grew hoarse, before she agreed, in the end, to take two hundred
and fifty roubles in cash, and two hundred roubles in promissory notes.
And even that only when Lichonin with his half-yearly certificate
proved to her that he was finishing this year and would become a
lawyer.
The housekeeper went after the ticket, while Lichonin took to pacing
the cabinet back and forth. He had already looked over all the pictures
on the walls: Leda with the swan, and the bathing on the shore of the
sea, and the odalisque in a harem, and the satyr, bearing a naked nymph
in his arms; but suddenly a small printed placard, framed and behind
glass, half covered by a portiere, attracted his attention. It was the
first time that it had come across Lichonin’s eyes, and the student
with amazement and aversion read these lines, expressed in the dead,
official language of police stations. There with shameful, businesslike
coldness, were mentioned all possible measures and precautions against
infections; the intimacies of feminine toilet; the weekly medical
inspections and all the adaptations for them. Lichonin also read that
no establishment was to be situated nearer than a hundred steps from
churches, places of learning, and court buildings; that only persons of
the female sex may maintain houses of prostitution; that only her
relatives, and even then of the female sex exclusively, and none older
than seven years, may live with the proprietress; and that the
proprietors and the owners of the house, as well as the girls, must in
their relations among themselves and the guests as well, observe
politeness, quiet, civility and decency, by no means allowing
themselves drunkenness, swearing and brawls. And also that the
prostitute must not allow herself the caresses of love when in an
intoxicated condition or with an intoxicated man; and in addition to
that, during the time of certain functions. Here also the prostitutes
were most strictly forbidden to commit abortions. “What a serious and
moral view of things!” reflected Lichonin with a malicious sneer.
Finally the business with Emma Edwarodvna was concluded. Having taken
the money and written out a receipt, she stretched it out to Lichonin
together with the blank, while he stretched out the money to her; at
which, during the time of the operation, they both looked at each
other’s eyes and hands intently and warily. It was apparent that they
both felt no especially great mutual trust. Lichonin put the documents
away in his wallet and was preparing to depart. The housekeeper
escorted him to the very stoop, and when the student was already
standing in the street, she, remaining on the steps, leaned out and
called after him:
“Student! Hey! Student!”
He stopped and turned around.
“What now?”
“And here’s another thing. Now I must tell you, that your Liubka is
trash, a thief, and sick with syphilis! None of our good guests wanted
to take her; and anyway, if you had not taken her, then we would have
thrown her out to-morrow! I will also tell you, that she had to do with
the porter, with policemen, with janitors, and with petty thieves.
Congratulations on your lawful marriage!”
“Oo-ooh! Vermin!” Lichonin roared back at her.
“You green blockhead!” called out the housekeeper and banged the door.
Lichonin went to the station house in a cab. On the way he recalled
that he had not had time to look at the blank properly, at this
renowned “yellow ticket,” of which he had heard so much. This was an
ordinary small white sheet, no larger than a postal envelope. On one
side, in the proper column, were written out the name, father’s name,
and family name of Liubka, and her profession—“Prostitute”; and on the
other side, concise extracts from the paragraphs of that placard which
he had just read through—infamous, hypocritical rules about behaviour
and external and internal cleanliness. “Every visitor.” he read, “has
the right to demand from the prostitute the written certificate of the
doctor who has inspected her the last time.” And again sentimental pity
overcame the heart of Lichonin.
“Poor women!” he reflected with grief. “What only don’t they do with
you, how don’t they abuse you, until you grow accustomed to everything,
just like blind horses on a treadmill!” In the station house he was
received by the district inspector, Kerbesh. He had spent the night on
duty, had not slept his fill, and was angry. His luxurious, fan-shaped
red beard was crumpled. The right half of the ruddy face was still
crimsonly glowing from lying long on the uncomfortable oilcloth pillow.
But the amazing, vividly blue eyes, cold and luminous, looked clear and
hard, like blue porcelain. Having ended interrogating, recording, and
cursing out with obscenities the throng of ragamuffins, taken in during
the night for sobering up and now being sent out over their own
districts, he threw himself against the back of the divan, put his
hands behind his neck, and stretched with all his enormous, heroic body
so hard that all his ligaments and joints cracked. He looked at
Lichonin just as at a thing, and asked:
“And what will you have, Mr. Student?”
Lichonin stated his business briefly.
“And so I want,” he concluded, “to take her to me ... how is this
supposed to be done with you? ... in the capacity of a servant, or, if
you want, a relative, in a word ... how is it done? ...”
“Well, in the capacity of a kept mistress or a wife, let’s say,”
indifferently retorted Kerbesh and twirled in his hands a silver cigar
case with monograms and little figures. “I can do absolutely nothing
for you ... at least right now. If you desire to marry her, present a
suitable permit from your university authorities. But if you’re taking
her on maintenance—then just think, where’s the logic in that? You’re
taking a girl out of a house of depravity, in order to live with her in
depraved cohabitation.”
“A servant, finally,” Lichonin put in.
“And even a servant. I’d trouble you to present an affidavit from your
landlord—for, I hope, you’re not a houseowner? Very well, then, an
affidavit from your landlord, as to your being in a position to keep a
servant; and besides that, all the documents, testifying that you’re
that very person you give yourself out to be; an affidavit, for
instance, from your district and from the university, and all that sort
of thing. For you, I hope, are registered? Or, perhaps, you are now,
eh? ... Of the illegal ones?
“No, I am registered!” retorted Lichonin, beginning to lose patience.
“And that’s splendid. But the young lady, about whom you’re troubling
yourself?”
“No, she’s not registered as yet. But I have her blank in my
possession, which, I hope, you’ll exchange for a real passport for me,
and then I’ll register her at once.”
Kerbesh spread his arms out wide, then again began toying with the
cigar case.
“Can’t do anything for you, Mr. Student, just nothing at all, until you
present all the papers required. As far as the girl’s concerned, why,
she, as one not having the right of residence, will be sent to the
police without delay, and there detained; unless she personally desires
to go there, where you’ve taken her from. I’ve the honour of wishing
you good day.”
Lichonin abruptly pulled his hat over his eyes and went toward the
door. But suddenly an ingenious thought flashed through his head, from
which, however, he himself became disgusted. And feeling nausea in the
pit of his stomach, with clammy, cold hands, experiencing a sickening
pinching in his toes, he again walked up to the table and said as
though carelessly, but with a catch in his voice:
“Pardon me, inspector. I’ve forgotten the most important thing; a
certain mutual acquaintance of ours has instructed me to transmit to
you a small debt of his.”
“Hm! An acquaintance?” asked Kerbesh, opening wide his magnificent
azure eyes. “And who may he be?”
“Bar ... Barbarisov.”
“Ah, Barbarisov? So, so, so, I recollect, I recollect!”
“So then, won’t you please accept these ten roubles?”
Kerbesh shook his head, but did not take the bit of paper.
“Well, but this Barbarisov of yours—that is, ours—is a swine. It isn’t
ten roubles he owes me at all, but a quarter of a century. What a
scoundrel! Twenty-five roubles and some small change besides. Well, the
small change, of course, I won’t count up to him. God be with him!
This, you see, is a billiard debt. I must say that he’s a blackguard,
plays crookedly ... And so, young man, dig up fifteen more.”
“Well, but you are a knave, Mr. Inspector!” said Lichonin, getting out
the money.
“Oh, mercy!” by now altogether good-naturedly retorted Kerbesh. “A
wife, children ... You know yourself what our salary is ... Receive the
little passport, young man. Sign your receipt. Best wishes.”
A queer thing! The consciousness that the passport was, finally, in his
pocket, for some reason suddenly calmed and again braced up and
elevated Lichonin’s nerves.
“Oh, well!” he thought, walking quickly along the street, “the very
beginning has been laid down, the most difficult part has been done.
Hold fast, now, Lichonin, and don’t fall in spirit! What you’ve done is
splendid and lofty. Let me be even a victim of this deed—it’s all one!
It’s a shame, having done a good deed, to expect rewards for it right
away. I’m not a little circus dog, and not a trained camel, and not the
first pupil of a young ladies’ genteel institute. Only it was useless
for me to let loose yesterday before these bearers of enlightenment. It
all turned out to be silly, tactless, and, in any case, premature. But
everything in life is reparable. A person will sustain the heaviest,
most disgraceful things; but, time passes, and they are recalled as
trifles ...”
To his amazement, Liubka was not especially struck, and did not at all
become overjoyed when he triumphantly showed her the passport. She was
only glad to see Lichonin again. Perhaps, this primitive, naive soul
had already contrived to cleave to its protector? She did throw herself
upon his neck, but he stopped her, and quietly, almost in her ear,
asked her:
“Liubka, tell me ... don’t be afraid to tell the truth, no matter what
it may be ... They told me just now, there in the house, that you’re
sick with a certain disease ... you know, that which is called the evil
sickness. If you believe in me even to some extent, tell me, my
darling, tell me, is that so or not?”
She turned red, covered her face with her hands, fell down on the divan
and burst into tears.
“My dearie! Vassil Vassilich! Vasinka! Honest to God! Honest to God,
now, there never was anything of the kind! I always was so careful! I
was awfully afraid of this. I love you so! I would have told you
without fail.” She caught his hands, pressed them to her wet face and
continued to assure him with the absurd and touching sincerity of an
unjustly accused child.
And he at once believed her in his soul.
“I believe you, my child,” he said quietly, stroking her hair. “Don’t
excite yourself, don’t cry. Only let us not again give in to our
weakness. Well, it has happened—let it have happened; but let us not
repeat it any more.’
“As you wish,” prattled the girl, kissing now his hands, now the cloth
of his coat. “If I displease you so, then, of course, let it be as you
wish.”
However, this evening also the temptation was again repeated, and kept
on repeating until the falls from grace ceased to arouse a burning
shame in Lichonin, and turned into a habit, swallowing and
extinguishing remorse.