My Childhood - Maxim Gorky [41]
He ran about the room, uttering cries as if he had burned himself, and groaning as if he were ill; then turning on grandmother he began to abuse his children, shaking his small, withered fist at her threateningly as he cried:
"And it is all your fault for giving in to them, and for taking their part, you old hag!"
His grief and excitement culminated in a tearful howl as he threw himself on the floor before the icon, and beating his withered, hollow breast with all his force, cried:
"Lord, have I sinned more than others? Why then--?"
And he trembled from head to foot, and his eyes, wet with tears, glittered with resentment and animosity.
Grandmother, without speaking, crossed herself as she sat in her dark corner, and then, approaching him cautiously, said:
"Now, why are you fretting like this? God knows what He is doing. You say that other people's children are better than ours, but I assure you, Father, that you will find the same thing everywhere--quarrels, and bickerings, and disturbances. All parents wash away their sins with their tears; you are not the only one."
Sometimes these words would pacify him, and he would begin to get ready for bed; then grandmother and I would steal away to our attic.
But once when she approached him with soothing speech, he turned on her swiftly, and with all his force dealt her a blow in the face with his fist.
Grandmother reeled, and almost lost her balance, but she managed to steady herself, and putting her hand to her lips, said quietly: "Fool!" And she spit blood at his feet; but he only gave two prolonged howls and raised both hands to her.
"Go away, or I will kill you!"
"Fool!" she repeated as she was leaving the room.
Grandfather rushed at her, but, with haste, she stepped over the threshold and banged the door in his face.
"Old hag!" hissed grandfather, whose face had become livid, as he clung to the door-post, clawing it viciously.
I was sitting on the couch, more dead than alive, hardly able to believe my eyes. This was the first time he had struck grandmother in my presence, and I was overwhelmed with disgust at this new aspect of his character--at this revelation of a trait which I \ found unforgivable, and I felt as if I were being suffocated. He stayed where he was, hanging on to the door-post, his face becoming gray and shriveled up as if it were covered with ashes.
Suddenly he moved to the middle of the room, knelt down, and bent forward, resting his hands on the floor; but he straightened himself almost directly, and beat his breast.
"And now, O Lord--!"
I slipped off the warm tiles of the stove-couch, and crept out of the room, as carefully as if I were treading on ice. I found grandmother upstairs, walking up and down the room, and rinsing her mouth at intervals.
"Are you hurt?"
She went into the corner, spit out some water into the hand-basin, and replied coolly:
"Nothing to make a fuss about. My teeth are all right; it is only my lips that are bruised."
"Why did he do it?"
Glancing out of the window she said:
"He gets into a temper. It is hard for him in his old age. Everything seems to turn out badly. Now you go to bed, say your prayers, and don't think any more about this."
I began to ask some more questions; but with a severity quite unusual in her, she cried:
"What did I say to you? Go to bed at once! I never heard of such disobedience!"
She sat at the window, sucking her lip and spitting frequently into her handkerchief, and I undressed, looking at her. I could see the stars shining above her black head through the blue, square window. In the street all was quiet, and the room was in darkness. When I was in bed she came over to me and softly stroking my head, she said:
"Sleep well! I shall go down to him. Don't be anxious about me, sweetheart. It was my own fault, you know. Now go to sleep!"
She kissed me and went away; but an overwhelming sadness swept over me. I jumped out of the wide, soft, warm bed, and going to the window, gazed down upon the empty street,