The Man Who Was Afraid [69]
ask for it--and you roar--but don't give it to him."
I'll go up there soon."
Anany Savvich Shchurov was a rich lumber-dealer, had a big saw- mill, built barges and ran rafts. He had had dealings with Ignat, and Foma had more than once seen this tall, heavily-bearded, long- armed, white-haired old man, who kept himself as erect as a pine- tree. His big, handsome figure, his open face and his clear eyes called forth in Foma a feeling of respect for Shchurov, although he heard it rumoured that this lumber-dealer had gained his wealth not by honest toil and that he was leading an evil life at home, in an obscure village of the forest district; and Ignat had told Foma that when Shchurov was young and was but a poor peasant, he sheltered a convict in the bath-house, in his garden, and that there the convict made counterfeit money for him. Since that time Anany began to grow rich. One day his bathhouse burned down, and in the ashes they discovered the corpse of a man with a fractured skull. There was a rumour in the village that Shchurov himself had killed his workman--killed and then burned him. Such things had happened more than once with the good-looking old man; but similar rumours were on foot with reference to many a rich man in town-- they had all, it was said, hoarded up their millions by way of robberies, murders and, mainly, by passing counterfeit money. Foma had heard such stories in his childhood and he never before considered whether they were true or not.
He also knew that Shchurov had got rid of two wives--one of them died during the first night of the wedding, in Anany's embraces. Then he took his son's wife away from him, and his son took to drink for grief and would have perished in drunkenness had he not come to himself in time and gone off to save himself in a hermitage, in Irgiz. And when his mistress-daughter-in-law had passed away, Shchurov took into his house a dumb beggar-girl, who was living with him to this day, and who had recently borne him a dead child. On his way to the hotel, where Anany stayed, Foma involuntarily recalled all this, and felt that Shchurov had become strangely interesting to him.
When Foma opened the door and stopped respectfully on the threshold of the small room, whose only window overlooked the rusty roof of the neighbouring house, he noticed that the old Shchurov had just risen from sleep, and sitting on his bed, leaning his hands against it, he stared at the ground; and he was so bent that his long, white beard fell over his knees. But even bent, he was large.
"Who entered?" asked Anany in a hoarse and angry voice, without lifting his head.
"I. How do you do, Anany Savvich?"
The old man raised his head slowly and, winking his large eyes, looked at Foma.
"Ignat's son, is that right?"
"The same."
"Well, come over here, sit down by the window. Let me see how you've grown up. Will you not have a glass of tea with me?"
"I wouldn't mind."
"Waiter!" cried the old man, expanding his chest, and, taking his beard in his hand, he began to examine Foma in silence. Foma also looked at him stealthily.
The old man's lofty forehead was all covered with wrinkles, and its skin was dark. Gray, curly locks covered his temples and his sharp- pointed ears; his calm blue eyes lent the upper part of his face a wise and good expression. But his cheeks and his lips were thick and red, and seemed out of place on his face. His thin, long nose was turned downward as though it wished to hide itself in his white moustache; the old man moved his lips, and from beneath them small, yellow teeth were gleaming. He had on a pink calico shirt, a silk belt around his waist, and black, loose trousers, which were tucked into his boots. Foma stared at his lips and thought that the old man was surely such as he was said to be.
"As a boy you looked more like your father," said Shchurov suddenly, and sighed. Then, after a moment's silence, he asked: "Do you remember your father? Do you ever pray for him? You must, you must pray!" he went on, after he heard Foma's brief answer. "Ignat
I'll go up there soon."
Anany Savvich Shchurov was a rich lumber-dealer, had a big saw- mill, built barges and ran rafts. He had had dealings with Ignat, and Foma had more than once seen this tall, heavily-bearded, long- armed, white-haired old man, who kept himself as erect as a pine- tree. His big, handsome figure, his open face and his clear eyes called forth in Foma a feeling of respect for Shchurov, although he heard it rumoured that this lumber-dealer had gained his wealth not by honest toil and that he was leading an evil life at home, in an obscure village of the forest district; and Ignat had told Foma that when Shchurov was young and was but a poor peasant, he sheltered a convict in the bath-house, in his garden, and that there the convict made counterfeit money for him. Since that time Anany began to grow rich. One day his bathhouse burned down, and in the ashes they discovered the corpse of a man with a fractured skull. There was a rumour in the village that Shchurov himself had killed his workman--killed and then burned him. Such things had happened more than once with the good-looking old man; but similar rumours were on foot with reference to many a rich man in town-- they had all, it was said, hoarded up their millions by way of robberies, murders and, mainly, by passing counterfeit money. Foma had heard such stories in his childhood and he never before considered whether they were true or not.
He also knew that Shchurov had got rid of two wives--one of them died during the first night of the wedding, in Anany's embraces. Then he took his son's wife away from him, and his son took to drink for grief and would have perished in drunkenness had he not come to himself in time and gone off to save himself in a hermitage, in Irgiz. And when his mistress-daughter-in-law had passed away, Shchurov took into his house a dumb beggar-girl, who was living with him to this day, and who had recently borne him a dead child. On his way to the hotel, where Anany stayed, Foma involuntarily recalled all this, and felt that Shchurov had become strangely interesting to him.
When Foma opened the door and stopped respectfully on the threshold of the small room, whose only window overlooked the rusty roof of the neighbouring house, he noticed that the old Shchurov had just risen from sleep, and sitting on his bed, leaning his hands against it, he stared at the ground; and he was so bent that his long, white beard fell over his knees. But even bent, he was large.
"Who entered?" asked Anany in a hoarse and angry voice, without lifting his head.
"I. How do you do, Anany Savvich?"
The old man raised his head slowly and, winking his large eyes, looked at Foma.
"Ignat's son, is that right?"
"The same."
"Well, come over here, sit down by the window. Let me see how you've grown up. Will you not have a glass of tea with me?"
"I wouldn't mind."
"Waiter!" cried the old man, expanding his chest, and, taking his beard in his hand, he began to examine Foma in silence. Foma also looked at him stealthily.
The old man's lofty forehead was all covered with wrinkles, and its skin was dark. Gray, curly locks covered his temples and his sharp- pointed ears; his calm blue eyes lent the upper part of his face a wise and good expression. But his cheeks and his lips were thick and red, and seemed out of place on his face. His thin, long nose was turned downward as though it wished to hide itself in his white moustache; the old man moved his lips, and from beneath them small, yellow teeth were gleaming. He had on a pink calico shirt, a silk belt around his waist, and black, loose trousers, which were tucked into his boots. Foma stared at his lips and thought that the old man was surely such as he was said to be.
"As a boy you looked more like your father," said Shchurov suddenly, and sighed. Then, after a moment's silence, he asked: "Do you remember your father? Do you ever pray for him? You must, you must pray!" he went on, after he heard Foma's brief answer. "Ignat