My Childhood - Maxim Gorky [79]
"Well . . . that will do . . . very good! . . . We 'll have a look and see what family . . ."
After the Christmas holidays mother sent Sascha, Uncle Michael's son, and me to school. Sascha's father had married again, and from the very first the stepmother had taken a dislike to her stepson, and had begun to beat him; so at grandmother's entreaty, grandfather had taken Sascha to live in his house. We went to school for a month, and all I learned, as far as I remember, was that when I was asked "What is your surname?" I must not reply "Pyeshkov" simply, but "My surname is Pyeshkov." And also that I must not say to the teacher: "Don't shout at me, my dear fellow, I am not afraid of you!"
At first I did not like school, but my cousin was very pleased with it in the beginning, and easily made friends for himself; but once he fell asleep during a lesson, and suddenly called out in his sleep:
"Iwo-on't!"
He awoke with a start and ran out of the class-room without ceremony. He was mercilessly laughed at for this; and the next day, when we were in the passage by Cyenvi Square, on our way to school, he came to a halt saying:
"You go on ... I am not coming ... I would rather go for a walk."
He squatted on his heels, carelessly dug his bundle of books into the snow, and went off. It was a clear January day, and the silver rays of the sun fell all round me. I envied my cousin very much, but, hardening my heart, I went on to school. I did not want to grieve my mother. The books which Sascha buried disappeared, of course, so he had a valid reason for not going to school the next day; but on the third day his conduct was brought to grandfather's notice. We were called up for judgment; in the kitchen grandfather, grandmother, and mother sat at the table and cross-examined us--and I shall never forget how comically Sascha answered grandfather's questions.
"Why did n't you go to school?"
"I forgot where it was."
"Forgot?"
"Yes. I looked and looked--"
"But you went with Alexei; he remembered where it was."
"And I lost him."
"Lost Lexei?"
"Yes."
"How did that happen?"
Sascha reflected a moment, and then said, drawing in his breath:
"There was a snowstorm, and you could n't see anything."
They all smiled--and the atmosphere began to clear; even Sascha smiled cautiously. But grandfather said maliciously, showing his teeth:
"But you could have caught hold of his arm or his belt, could n't you?"
"I did catch hold of them, but the wind tore them away," explained Sascha.
He spoke in a lazy, despondent tone, and I listened uncomfortably to this unnecessary, clumsy lie, amazed at his obstinacy.
We were thrashed, and a former fireman, an old man with a broken arm, was engaged to take us to school, and to watch that Sascha did not turn aside from the road of learning. But it was no use. The next day, as soon as my cousin reached the causeway, he stooped suddenly, and pulling off one of his high boots threw it a long way from him; then he took off the other and threw it in the opposite direction, and in his stockinged feet ran across the square. The old man, breathing hard, picked up the boots, and thereupon, terribly flustered, took me home.
All that day grandfather, grandmother, and my mother searched the town for the runaway, and it was evening before they found him in the bar at Tchirkov's Tavern, entertaining the public by his dancing. They took him home, and actually did not beat the shaking, stubborn, silent lad; but as he lay beside me in the loft, with his legs up and the soles of his feet scraping against the ceiling, he said softly:
"My stepmother does not love me, nor my father. Grandfather does not love me either; why should I live with them? So I shall ask grandmother to tell me where the robbers live, and I shall run away to them . . . then you will understand, all of you. . . . Why should n't we run away together?"
I could not run away with him, for in those days I