The Man Who Was Afraid [62]
led you by the nose all winter long! What a nose! What a beast she is!"
The old man was agitated; in his voice rang vexation, anger, even tears Foma had never before seen him in such a state, and looking at him, he was involuntarily silent.
"She will ruin you! 0h Lord! The Babylonian prostitute!"
Mayakin's eyes were blinking, his lips were trembling, and in rude, cynical words he began to speak of Medinskaya, irritated, with a wrathful jar in his voice.
Foma felt that the old man spoke the truth. He now began to breathe with difficulty and he felt that his mouth had a dry, bitter taste.
"Very well, father, enough," he begged softly and sadly, turning aside from Mayakin.
"Eh, you ought to get married as soon as possible!" exclaimed the old man with alarm.
"For Christ's sake, do not speak," uttered Foma in a dull voice.
Mayakin glanced at his godson and became silent. Foma's face looked drawn; he grew pale, and there was a great deal of painful, bitter stupor in his half-open lips and in his sad look. On the right and on the left of the road a field stretched itself, covered here and there with patches of winter-raiment. Rooks were hopping busily about over the black spots, where the snow had melted. The water under the sledge-runners was splashing, the muddy snow was kicked up by the hoofs of the horses.
"How foolish man is in his youth!" exclaimed Mayakin, in a low voice. Foma did not look at him.
"Before him stands the stump of a tree, and yet he sees the snout of a beast--that's how he frightens himself. Oh, oh!"
"Speak more plainly," said Foma, sternly.
"What is there to say? The thing is clear: girls are cream; women are milk; women are near, girls are far. Consequently, go to Sonka, if you cannot do without it, and tell her plainly. That's how the matter stands. Fool! If she is a sinner, you can get her more easily. Why are you so angry, then? Why so bristled up?"
"You don't understand," said Foma, in a low voice.
"What is it I do not understand? I understand everything!"
"The heart. Man has a heart," sighed the youth.
Mayakin winked his eyes and said:
"Then he has no mind."
CHAPTER VI
WHEN Foma arrived in the city he was seized with sad, revengeful anger. He was burning with a passionate desire to insult Medinskaya, to abuse her. His teeth firmly set together, his hands thrust deep into his pockets, he walked for a few hours in succession about the deserted rooms of his house, he sternly knitted his brow, and constantly threw his chest forward. His breast was too narrow to hold his heart, which was filled with wrath. He stamped the floor with heavy and measured steps, as though he were forging his anger.
"The vile wretch--disguised herself as an angel!" Pelageya vividly arose in his memory, and he whispered malignantly and bitterly:
"Though a fallen woman, she is better. She did not play the hypocrite. She at once unfolded her soul and her body, and her heart is surely just as her breast--white and sound."
Sometimes Hope would whisper timidly in his ear:
"Perhaps all that was said of her was a lie."
But he recalled the eager certainty of his godfather, and the power of his words, and this thought perished. He set his teeth more firmly together and threw his chest still more forward. Evil thoughts like splinters of wood stuck into his heart, and his heart was shattered by the acute pain they caused.
By disparaging Medinskaya, Mayakin made her more accessible to his godson, and Foma soon understood this. A few days passed, and Foma's agitated feelings became calm, absorbed by the spring business cares. The sorrow for the loss of the individual deadened the spite he owed the woman, and the thought of the woman's accessibility increased his passion for her. And somehow, without perceiving it himself, he suddenly understood and resolved that he ought to go up to Sophya Pavlovna and tell her plainly, openly, just what he wanted of her--that's all! He even felt a certain joy at this resolution, and he boldly started off to Medinskaya, thinking on the
The old man was agitated; in his voice rang vexation, anger, even tears Foma had never before seen him in such a state, and looking at him, he was involuntarily silent.
"She will ruin you! 0h Lord! The Babylonian prostitute!"
Mayakin's eyes were blinking, his lips were trembling, and in rude, cynical words he began to speak of Medinskaya, irritated, with a wrathful jar in his voice.
Foma felt that the old man spoke the truth. He now began to breathe with difficulty and he felt that his mouth had a dry, bitter taste.
"Very well, father, enough," he begged softly and sadly, turning aside from Mayakin.
"Eh, you ought to get married as soon as possible!" exclaimed the old man with alarm.
"For Christ's sake, do not speak," uttered Foma in a dull voice.
Mayakin glanced at his godson and became silent. Foma's face looked drawn; he grew pale, and there was a great deal of painful, bitter stupor in his half-open lips and in his sad look. On the right and on the left of the road a field stretched itself, covered here and there with patches of winter-raiment. Rooks were hopping busily about over the black spots, where the snow had melted. The water under the sledge-runners was splashing, the muddy snow was kicked up by the hoofs of the horses.
"How foolish man is in his youth!" exclaimed Mayakin, in a low voice. Foma did not look at him.
"Before him stands the stump of a tree, and yet he sees the snout of a beast--that's how he frightens himself. Oh, oh!"
"Speak more plainly," said Foma, sternly.
"What is there to say? The thing is clear: girls are cream; women are milk; women are near, girls are far. Consequently, go to Sonka, if you cannot do without it, and tell her plainly. That's how the matter stands. Fool! If she is a sinner, you can get her more easily. Why are you so angry, then? Why so bristled up?"
"You don't understand," said Foma, in a low voice.
"What is it I do not understand? I understand everything!"
"The heart. Man has a heart," sighed the youth.
Mayakin winked his eyes and said:
"Then he has no mind."
CHAPTER VI
WHEN Foma arrived in the city he was seized with sad, revengeful anger. He was burning with a passionate desire to insult Medinskaya, to abuse her. His teeth firmly set together, his hands thrust deep into his pockets, he walked for a few hours in succession about the deserted rooms of his house, he sternly knitted his brow, and constantly threw his chest forward. His breast was too narrow to hold his heart, which was filled with wrath. He stamped the floor with heavy and measured steps, as though he were forging his anger.
"The vile wretch--disguised herself as an angel!" Pelageya vividly arose in his memory, and he whispered malignantly and bitterly:
"Though a fallen woman, she is better. She did not play the hypocrite. She at once unfolded her soul and her body, and her heart is surely just as her breast--white and sound."
Sometimes Hope would whisper timidly in his ear:
"Perhaps all that was said of her was a lie."
But he recalled the eager certainty of his godfather, and the power of his words, and this thought perished. He set his teeth more firmly together and threw his chest still more forward. Evil thoughts like splinters of wood stuck into his heart, and his heart was shattered by the acute pain they caused.
By disparaging Medinskaya, Mayakin made her more accessible to his godson, and Foma soon understood this. A few days passed, and Foma's agitated feelings became calm, absorbed by the spring business cares. The sorrow for the loss of the individual deadened the spite he owed the woman, and the thought of the woman's accessibility increased his passion for her. And somehow, without perceiving it himself, he suddenly understood and resolved that he ought to go up to Sophya Pavlovna and tell her plainly, openly, just what he wanted of her--that's all! He even felt a certain joy at this resolution, and he boldly started off to Medinskaya, thinking on the