The Man Who Was Afraid [34]
the fresh air into his broad chest, he stood on deck for a few minutes. Suddenly, from beyond the roundhouse- - from the prow--a moan reached his ears--a deep, loud moan, resembling a wail. He shuddered and went thither carefully, understanding that she was there.
She sat on the deck close to the side of the steamer, and, leaning her head against a heap of ropes, she wept. Foma saw that her bare white shoulders were trembling, he heard her pitiful moans, and began to feel depressed. Bending over her, he asked her timidly:
"What is it?"
She nodded her head and said nothing in reply.
"Have I offended you?"
"Go away," she said.
"But, how?" said Foma, alarmed and confused, touching her head with his hand. "Don't be angry. You came of your own free will."
"I am not angry!" she replied in a loud whisper. "Why should I be angry at you? You are not a seducer. You are a pure soul! Eh, my darling! Be seated here by my side."
And taking Foma by the hand, she made him sit down, like a child, in her lap, pressed his head close to her breast, and, bending over him, pressed her lips to his for a long time.
"What are you crying about?" asked Foma, caressing her cheek with one hand, while the other clasped the woman's neck.
"I am crying about myself. Why have you sent me away?" she asked plaintively.
"I began to feel ashamed of myself," said Foma, lowering his head.
"My darling! Tell me the truth--haven't you been pleased with me?" she asked with a smile, but her big, hot tears were still trickling down on Foma's breast.
"Why should you speak like this?" exclaimed the youth, almost frightened, and hotly began to mumble to her some words about her beauty, about her kindness, telling her how sorry he was for her and how bashful in her presence. And she listened and kept on kissing his cheeks, his neck, his head and his uncovered breast.
He became silent--then she began to speak--softly and mournfully as though speaking of the dead:
"And I thought it was something else. When you said, 'Be gone!' I got up and went away. And your words made me feel sad, very sad. There was a time, I remembered, when they caressed me and fondled me unceasingly, without growing tired; for a single kind smile they used to do for me anything I pleased. I recalled all this and began to cry! I felt sorry for my youth, for I am now thirty years old, the last days for a woman! Eh, Foma Ignatyevich!" she exclaimed, lifting her voice louder, and reiterating the rhythm of her harmonious speech, whose accents rose and fell in unison with the melodious murmuring of the water.
"Listen to me--preserve your youth! There is nothing in the world better than that. There is nothing more precious than youth. With youth, as with gold, you can accomplish anything you please. Live so that you shall have in old age something to remind you of your youth. Here I recalled myself, and though I cried, yet my heart blazed up at the very recollection of my past life. And again I was young, as though I drank of the water of life! My sweet child I'll have a good time with you, if I please you, we'll enjoy ourselves as much as we can. Eh! I'll burn to ashes, now that I have blazed up!"
And pressing the youth close to herself, she greedily began to kiss him on the lips.
"Lo-o-ok o-u-u-u-t!" the watch on the barge wailed mournfully, and, cutting short the last syllable, began to strike his mallet against the cast-iron board.
The shrill, trembling sounds harshly broke the solemn quiet of the night.
A few days later, when the barges had discharged their cargo and the steamer was ready to leave for Perm, Yefim noticed, to his great sorrow, that a cart came up to the shore and that the dark- eyed Pelageya, with a trunk and with some bundles, was in it.
"Send a sailor to bring her things," ordered Foma, nodding his head toward the shore.
With a reproachful shake of his head, Yefim carried out the order angrily, and then asked in a lowered voice:
"So she, too, is coming with us?"
"She is going with me," Foma announced shortly.
She sat on the deck close to the side of the steamer, and, leaning her head against a heap of ropes, she wept. Foma saw that her bare white shoulders were trembling, he heard her pitiful moans, and began to feel depressed. Bending over her, he asked her timidly:
"What is it?"
She nodded her head and said nothing in reply.
"Have I offended you?"
"Go away," she said.
"But, how?" said Foma, alarmed and confused, touching her head with his hand. "Don't be angry. You came of your own free will."
"I am not angry!" she replied in a loud whisper. "Why should I be angry at you? You are not a seducer. You are a pure soul! Eh, my darling! Be seated here by my side."
And taking Foma by the hand, she made him sit down, like a child, in her lap, pressed his head close to her breast, and, bending over him, pressed her lips to his for a long time.
"What are you crying about?" asked Foma, caressing her cheek with one hand, while the other clasped the woman's neck.
"I am crying about myself. Why have you sent me away?" she asked plaintively.
"I began to feel ashamed of myself," said Foma, lowering his head.
"My darling! Tell me the truth--haven't you been pleased with me?" she asked with a smile, but her big, hot tears were still trickling down on Foma's breast.
"Why should you speak like this?" exclaimed the youth, almost frightened, and hotly began to mumble to her some words about her beauty, about her kindness, telling her how sorry he was for her and how bashful in her presence. And she listened and kept on kissing his cheeks, his neck, his head and his uncovered breast.
He became silent--then she began to speak--softly and mournfully as though speaking of the dead:
"And I thought it was something else. When you said, 'Be gone!' I got up and went away. And your words made me feel sad, very sad. There was a time, I remembered, when they caressed me and fondled me unceasingly, without growing tired; for a single kind smile they used to do for me anything I pleased. I recalled all this and began to cry! I felt sorry for my youth, for I am now thirty years old, the last days for a woman! Eh, Foma Ignatyevich!" she exclaimed, lifting her voice louder, and reiterating the rhythm of her harmonious speech, whose accents rose and fell in unison with the melodious murmuring of the water.
"Listen to me--preserve your youth! There is nothing in the world better than that. There is nothing more precious than youth. With youth, as with gold, you can accomplish anything you please. Live so that you shall have in old age something to remind you of your youth. Here I recalled myself, and though I cried, yet my heart blazed up at the very recollection of my past life. And again I was young, as though I drank of the water of life! My sweet child I'll have a good time with you, if I please you, we'll enjoy ourselves as much as we can. Eh! I'll burn to ashes, now that I have blazed up!"
And pressing the youth close to herself, she greedily began to kiss him on the lips.
"Lo-o-ok o-u-u-u-t!" the watch on the barge wailed mournfully, and, cutting short the last syllable, began to strike his mallet against the cast-iron board.
The shrill, trembling sounds harshly broke the solemn quiet of the night.
A few days later, when the barges had discharged their cargo and the steamer was ready to leave for Perm, Yefim noticed, to his great sorrow, that a cart came up to the shore and that the dark- eyed Pelageya, with a trunk and with some bundles, was in it.
"Send a sailor to bring her things," ordered Foma, nodding his head toward the shore.
With a reproachful shake of his head, Yefim carried out the order angrily, and then asked in a lowered voice:
"So she, too, is coming with us?"
"She is going with me," Foma announced shortly.