My Childhood - Maxim Gorky [54]
"Well, climb up here."
When I was sitting beside him, he put his arm round my shoulders and pressed me to him.
"Sit down. Now let us sit still and be quiet. Will that suit you? This is the same--* Are you obstinate?"
"Yes."
"Good-business!"
We were silent a long time. It was a quiet, mild evening, one of those melancholy evenings of late summer, when, in spite of the profusion of flowers, signs of decay are visible, and every hour brings impoverishment; when the earth, having already exhausted its luxuriant summer odors, smells of nothing but a chill dampness; when the air is curiously transparent, and the daws dart aimlessly to and fro against the red sky, arousing a feeling of unhappiness. Silence reigned; and any sound, such as the fluttering of birds or the rustling of fallen leaves, struck one as being unnaturally loud, and caused a shuddering start, which soon died away into that torpid stillness which seemed to encompass the earth and cast a spell over the heart. In such moments as these are born thoughts of a peculiar purity--ethereal thoughts, thin, transparent as a cobweb, incapable of being expressed in words. They come and go quickly, like falling stars, kindling a flame of sorrow in the soul, soothing and disturbing it at the same time; and the soul is, as it were, on fire, and, being plastic, receives an impression which lasts for all time.
Pressed close to the boarder's warm body, I gazed, with him, through the black branches of the apple tree, at the red sky, following the flight of the flapping rooks, and noticing how the dried poppy-heads shook on their stems, scattering their coarse seeds; and I observed the ragged, dark blue clouds with livid edges, which stretched over the fields, and the crows flying heavily under the clouds to their nests in the burial-ground.
It was all beautiful; and that evening it all seemed especially beautiful, and in harmony with my feelings. Sometimes, with a heavy sigh, my companion said:
"This is quite all right, my boy, is n't it? And you don't feel it damp or cold?"
But when the sky became overcast, and the twilight, laden with damp, spread over everything, he said:
"Well, it can't be helped. We shall have to go in."
He halted at the garden gate and said softly:
"Your grandmother is a splendid woman. Oh, what a treasure!" And he closed his eyes with a smile and recited in a low, very distinct voice:
"'Let us be warned by his terrible fate,
Nor of meek obedience let us prate.
If we are ordered to do something wrong,
Our duty is then to stand firm and be strong.'"
"Don't forget that, my boy!"
And pushing me before him, he asked:
"Can you write?"
"No."
"You must learn; and when you have learned, write down grandmother's stories. You will find it worth while, my boy."
And so we became friends; and from that day I went to see "Good-business" whenever I felt inclined; and sitting on one of the cases, or on some rags, I used to watch him melt lead and heat copper till it was red-hot, beat layers of iron on a little anvil with an eleganthandled, light hammer, or work with a smooth file and a saw of emery, which was as fine as a thread. He weighed everything on his delicately adjusted copper scales; and when he had poured various liquids into bulging, white vessels, he would watch them till they smoked and filled the room with an acrid odor, and then with a wrinkled-up face he would consult a thick book, biting his red lips, or softly humming in his husky voice:
"O Rose of Sharon--!"
"What are you doing?"
"I am making something, my boy."
"What?"
"Ah--that I can't tell you. You would n't understand."
"Grandfather says he would not be surprised if you were coining false money."
"Your grandfather? M'm! Well, he says that for something to say. Money's all nonsense, my boy."
"How should we buy bread without it?"
"Well, yes; we want it for that, it is true."
"And for meat too."
"Yes, and for meat."
He smiled quietly, with a kindness which astonished me; and pulling my ear, said:
"It is no