The Man Who Was Afraid [101]
with trifles. Answer it, how to live? To what purpose? There--take my godfather--he is wise! He says--create life! But he's the only one like this. Well, I'll ask him, wait! And everybody says--life has usurped us! Life has choked us. I shall ask these, too. And how can we create life? You must keep it in your hands to do this, you must be master over it. You cannot make even a pot, without taking the clay into your hands."
"Listen!" said Sasha, seriously. "I think you ought to get married, that's all!"
"What for?" asked Foma, shrugging his shoulders.
"You need a bridle."
"All right! I am living with you--you are all of a kind, are you not? One is not sweeter than the other. I had one before you, of the same kind as you. No, but that one did it for love's sake. She had taken a liking to me--and consented; she was good--but, otherwise, she was in every way the same as you--though you are prettier than she. But I took a liking to a certain lady--a lady of noble birth! They said she led a loose life, but I did not get her. Yes, she was clever, intelligent; she lived in luxury. I used to think--that's where I'll taste the real thing! I did not get her--and, it may be, if I had succeeded, all would have taken a different turn. I yearned toward her. I thought--I could not tear myself away. While now that I have given myself to drink, I've drowned her in wine--I am forgetting her--and that also is wrong. 0 man! You are a rascal, to be frank."
Foma became silent and sank into meditation. And Sasha rose from the bench and paced the hut to and fro, biting her lips. Then she stopped short before him, and, clasping her hands to her head, said:
"Do you know what? I'll leave you."
"Where will you go?" asked Foma, without lifting his head.
"I don't know--it's all the same!"
"But why?"
"You're always saying unnecessary things. It is lonesome with you. You make me sad."
Foma lifted his head, looked at her and burst into mournful laughter.
"Really? Is it possible?"
"You do make me sad! Do you know? If I should reflect on it, I would understand what you say and why you say it--for I am also of that sort--when the time comes, I shall also think of all this. And then I shall be lost. But now it is too early for me. No, I want to live yet, and then, later, come what will!"
"And I--will I, too, be lost?" asked Foma, indifferently, already fatigued by his words.
"Of course!" replied Sasha, calmly and confidently. "All such people are lost. He, whose character is inflexible, and who has no brains--what sort of a life is his? We are like this."
"I have no character at all," said Foma, stretching himself. Then after a moment's silence he added:
"And I have no brains, either."
They were silent for a minute, eyeing each other.
"What are we going to do?" asked Foma.
"We must have dinner."
"No, I mean, in general? Afterward?"
"Afterward? I don't know?"
"So you are leaving me?"
"I am. Come, let's carouse some more before we part. Let's go to Kazan, and there we'll have a spree--smoke and flame! I'll sing your farewell song."
"Very well," assented Foma. "It's quite proper at leave taking. Eh, you devil! That's a merry life! Listen, Sasha. They say that women of your kind are greedy for money; are even thieves."
"Let them say," said Sasha, calmly.
"Don't you feel offended?" asked Foma, with curiosity. "But you are not greedy. It's advantageous to you to be with me. I am rich, and yet you are going away; that shows you're not greedy."
"I?" Sasha thought awhile and said with a wave of the hand: "Perhaps I am not greedy--what of it? I am not of the very lowest of the street women. And against whom shall I feel a grudge? Let them say whatever they please. It will be only human talk, not the bellowing of bulls. And human holiness and honesty are quite familiar to me! Eh, how well I know them! If I were chosen as a judge, I would acquit the dead only l" and bursting into malicious laughter, Sasha said: "Well, that will do, we've spoken enough nonsense. Sit down at the table!"
"Listen!" said Sasha, seriously. "I think you ought to get married, that's all!"
"What for?" asked Foma, shrugging his shoulders.
"You need a bridle."
"All right! I am living with you--you are all of a kind, are you not? One is not sweeter than the other. I had one before you, of the same kind as you. No, but that one did it for love's sake. She had taken a liking to me--and consented; she was good--but, otherwise, she was in every way the same as you--though you are prettier than she. But I took a liking to a certain lady--a lady of noble birth! They said she led a loose life, but I did not get her. Yes, she was clever, intelligent; she lived in luxury. I used to think--that's where I'll taste the real thing! I did not get her--and, it may be, if I had succeeded, all would have taken a different turn. I yearned toward her. I thought--I could not tear myself away. While now that I have given myself to drink, I've drowned her in wine--I am forgetting her--and that also is wrong. 0 man! You are a rascal, to be frank."
Foma became silent and sank into meditation. And Sasha rose from the bench and paced the hut to and fro, biting her lips. Then she stopped short before him, and, clasping her hands to her head, said:
"Do you know what? I'll leave you."
"Where will you go?" asked Foma, without lifting his head.
"I don't know--it's all the same!"
"But why?"
"You're always saying unnecessary things. It is lonesome with you. You make me sad."
Foma lifted his head, looked at her and burst into mournful laughter.
"Really? Is it possible?"
"You do make me sad! Do you know? If I should reflect on it, I would understand what you say and why you say it--for I am also of that sort--when the time comes, I shall also think of all this. And then I shall be lost. But now it is too early for me. No, I want to live yet, and then, later, come what will!"
"And I--will I, too, be lost?" asked Foma, indifferently, already fatigued by his words.
"Of course!" replied Sasha, calmly and confidently. "All such people are lost. He, whose character is inflexible, and who has no brains--what sort of a life is his? We are like this."
"I have no character at all," said Foma, stretching himself. Then after a moment's silence he added:
"And I have no brains, either."
They were silent for a minute, eyeing each other.
"What are we going to do?" asked Foma.
"We must have dinner."
"No, I mean, in general? Afterward?"
"Afterward? I don't know?"
"So you are leaving me?"
"I am. Come, let's carouse some more before we part. Let's go to Kazan, and there we'll have a spree--smoke and flame! I'll sing your farewell song."
"Very well," assented Foma. "It's quite proper at leave taking. Eh, you devil! That's a merry life! Listen, Sasha. They say that women of your kind are greedy for money; are even thieves."
"Let them say," said Sasha, calmly.
"Don't you feel offended?" asked Foma, with curiosity. "But you are not greedy. It's advantageous to you to be with me. I am rich, and yet you are going away; that shows you're not greedy."
"I?" Sasha thought awhile and said with a wave of the hand: "Perhaps I am not greedy--what of it? I am not of the very lowest of the street women. And against whom shall I feel a grudge? Let them say whatever they please. It will be only human talk, not the bellowing of bulls. And human holiness and honesty are quite familiar to me! Eh, how well I know them! If I were chosen as a judge, I would acquit the dead only l" and bursting into malicious laughter, Sasha said: "Well, that will do, we've spoken enough nonsense. Sit down at the table!"