Part 19

The old man stared at me.--“A pretty thing thou hast invented! A visitation of the Evil One, forsooth! ’Twould be all right at thy house, thou tobacco-user,--but ’tis quite another thing here! Only consider how many holy things there are here! And thou must needs have a visitation of the devil!--And if it isn’t that, what is it?”

The old man relapsed into silence, scratched himself again, and at last he said, but in a dull sort of way, because his moustache kept crawling into his mouth:

“Go thou to the town of Byéleff. There is only one man who can help thee. And that man dwells in Byéleff;[41] he is one of our people. If he takes a fancy to help thee, that’s thy good luck; if he doesn’t take a fancy,--so it must remain.”

“But how am I to find him?”--said I.

“We can give thee directions,”--said he;--“only why dost thou call this a visitation of the devil? ’Tis a vision, or a sign; but thou wilt not be able to comprehend it; ’tis not within thy flight. And now lie down and sleep under Christ’s protection, dear little father; I will fumigate with incense; and in the morning we will take counsel together. The morning is wiser than the evening, thou knowest.”

Well, sir, and we did take counsel together in the morning--only I came near choking to death with that same incense. And the old man instructed me after this wise: that when I had reached Byéleff I was to go to the public square, and in the second shop on the right inquire for a certain Prokhóritch; and having found Prokhóritch, I was to hand him a document. And the whole document consisted of a scrap of paper, on which was written the following: “In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit, Amen. To Sergyéi Prokhóritch Pervúshin. Trust this man. Feodúly Ivánovitch.” And below: “Send some cabbages, for God’s sake.”

I thanked the old man, and without further ado ordered my tarantás to be harnessed, and set off for Byéleff. For I argued in this way: admitting that my nocturnal visitor did not cause me much grief, still, nevertheless, it was not quite decorous for a nobleman and an officer--what do you think about it?

“And did you really go to Byéleff?”--whispered Mr. Finopléntoff.

I did, straight to Byéleff. I went to the square, and inquired in the second shop on the right for Prokhóritch. “Is there such a man?”--I asked.

“There is,”--I was told.

“And where does he live?”

“On the Oká, beyond the vegetable-gardens.”

“In whose house?”[42]

“His own.”

I wended my way to the Oká, searched out his house, that is to say, not actually a house, but a downright hovel. I beheld a man in a patched blue overcoat and a tattered cap,--of the petty burgher class, judging by his appearance,--standing with his back to me, and digging in his cabbage-garden.--I went up to him.

“Are you such and such a one?”--said I.

He turned round,--and to tell you the truth, such piercing eyes I have never seen in all my life. But his whole face was no bigger than one’s fist; his beard was wedge-shaped, and his lips were sunken: he was an aged man.

“I am he,”--he said.--“What do you wanta?”

“Why, here,”--said I;--“this is what I wanta,”--and I placed the document in his hand. He gazed at me very intently, and said:

“Please come into the house; I cannot read without my spectacles.”

Well, sir, he and I went into his kennel--actually, a regular kennel; poor, bare, crooked; it barely held together. On the wall was a holy picture of ancient work,[43] as black as a coal; only the whites of the eyes were fairly burning in the faces of the holy people. He took some round iron spectacles from a small table, placed them on his nose, perused the writing, and through his spectacles again scrutinised me.

“You have need of me?”

“I have,”--said I,--“that’s the fact.”

“Well,”--said he, “if you have, then make your statement, and I will listen.”

And just imagine; he sat down, and pulling a checked handkerchief from his pocket, he spread it out on his knees--and the handkerchief was full of holes--and gazed at me as solemnly as though he had been a senator,[44] or some minister or other; and did not ask me to sit down. And what was still more astonishing, I suddenly felt myself growing timid, so timid ... simply, my soul sank into my heels. He pierced me through and through with his eyes, and that’s all there is to be said! But I recovered my self-possession, and narrated to him my whole story. He remained silent for a while, shrank together, mowed with his lips, and then began to interrogate me, still as though he were a senator, so majestically and without haste. “What is your name?”--he asked. “How old are you? Who were your parents? Are you a bachelor or married?”--Then he began to mow with his lips again, frowned, thrust out his finger and said:

“Do reverence to the holy image of the honourable saints of Solovétzk,[45] Zósim and Saváty.”

I made a reverence to the earth, and did not rise to my feet; such awe and submission did I feel for that man that I believe I would have instantly done anything whatsoever he might have ordered me!... I see that you are smiling, gentlemen; but I was in no mood for laughing then, by Heaven I was not.

“Rise, sir,”--he said at last.--“It is possible to help you. This has not been sent to you by way of punishment, but as a warning; it signifies that you are being looked after; some one is praying earnestly for you. Go now to the bazaar and buy yourself a bitch, which you must keep by you day and night, without ceasing. Your visions will cease, and your dog will prove necessary to you into the bargain.”

A flash of light seemed suddenly to illuminate me; how those words did please me! I made obeisance to Prokhóritch, and was on the point of departing, but remembered that it was impossible for me not to show him my gratitude; I drew a three-ruble note from my pocket. But he put aside my hand and said to me:

“Give it to our chapel, or to the poor, for this service is gratis.”

Again I made him an obeisance, nearly to the girdle, and immediately marched off to the bazaar. And fancy, no sooner had I begun to approach the shops when behold, a man in a frieze cloak advanced to meet me, and under his arm he carried a setter bitch, two months old, with light-brown hair, a white muzzle, and white fore paws.

“Halt!” said I to the man in the frieze cloak; “what will you take for her?”

“Two rubles in silver.”

“Take three!”

The man was astonished, and thought the gentleman had lost his mind--but I threw a banknote in his teeth, seized the bitch in my arms, and rushed to my tarantás. The coachman harnessed up the horses briskly, and that same evening I was at home. The dog sat on my lap during the whole journey--and never uttered a sound; but I kept saying to her: “Tresórushko! Tresórushko!” I immediately gave her food and water, ordered straw to be brought, put her to bed, and dashed into bed myself. I blew out the light; darkness reigned.

“Come now, begin!”--said I.--Silence.--“Do begin, thou thus and so!”--Not a sound. It was laughable. I began to take courage.--“Come now, begin, thou thus and so, and ’tother thing!” But nothing happened--there was a complete lull! The only thing to be heard was the bitch breathing hard.

“Fílka!”--I shouted;--“Fílka! Come hither, stupid man!”--He entered.--“Dost thou hear the dog?”

“No, master,”--said he,--“I don’t hear anything,”--and began to laugh.

“And thou wilt not hear it again forever! Here’s half a ruble for thee for vodka!”

“Please let me kiss your hand,”--said the fool, and crawled to me in the dark.... My joy was great, I can tell you!

“And was that the end of it all?”--asked Antón Stepánitch, no longer ironically.

The visions did cease, it is true--and there were no disturbances of any sort--but wait, that was not the end of the whole matter. My Tresórushko began to grow, and turned out a cunning rogue. Thick-tailed, heavy, flop-eared, with drooping dewlaps, she was a regular “take-advance,”--a thoroughgoing good setter. And moreover, she became greatly attached to me. Hunting is bad in our parts,--well, but as I had set up a dog I had to supply myself with a gun also. I began to roam about the surrounding country with my Tresór; sometimes I would knock over a hare (my heavens, how she did course those hares!), and sometimes a quail or a duck. But the chief point was that Tresór never, never strayed a step away from me. Wherever I went, there she went also; I even took her to the bath with me--truly! One of our young gentlewomen undertook to eject me from her drawing-room on account of Tresór; but I raised such a row that I smashed some of her window-panes!

Well, sir, one day--it happened in summer.... And I must tell you that there was such a drought that no one could recall its like; the air was full of something which was neither smoke nor fog; there was an odour of burning, and mist, and the sun was like a red-hot cannon-ball; and the dust was such that one could not leave off sneezing! People went about with their mouths gaping open, just like crows.

It bored me to sit at home constantly in complete undress, behind closed shutters; and by the way, the heat was beginning to moderate.... And so, gentlemen, I set off afoot to the house of one of my neighbours. This neighbour of mine lived about a verst from me,--and was really a benevolent lady. She was still young and blooming, and of the most attractive exterior; only she had a fickle disposition. But that is no detriment in the feminine sex; it even affords pleasure.... So, then, I trudged to her porch--and that trip seemed very salt to me! Well, I thought, Nimfodóra Semyónovna will regale me with bilberry-water, and other refreshments--and I had already grasped the door-handle when, suddenly, around the corner of the servants’ cottage there arose a trampling of feet, a squealing and shouting of small boys.... I looked round. O Lord, my God! Straight toward me was dashing a huge, reddish beast, which at first sight I did not recognise as a dog; its jaws were gaping, its eyes were blood-shot, its hair stood on end.... Before I could take breath the monster leaped upon the porch, elevated itself on its hind legs, and fell straight on my breast. What do you think of that situation? I was swooning with fright, and could not lift my arms; I was completely stupefied; ... all I could see were the white tusks right at the end of my nose, the red tongue all swathed in foam. But at that moment another dark body soared through the air in front of me, like a ball--it was my darling Tresór coming to my rescue; and she went at that beast’s throat like a leech! The beast rattled hoarsely in the throat, gnashed its teeth, staggered back.... With one jerk I tore open the door, and found myself in the anteroom. I stood there, beside myself with terror, threw my whole body against the lock, and listened to a desperate battle which was in progress on the porch. I began to shout, to call for help; every one in the house took alarm. Nimfodóra Semyónovna ran up with hair unbraided; voices clamoured in the courtyard--and suddenly there came a cry: “Hold him, hold him, lock the gate!”

I opened the door,--just a crack,--and looked. The monster was no longer on the porch. People were rushing in disorder about the courtyard, flourishing their arms, picking up billets of wood from the ground--just as though they had gone mad. “To the village! It has run to the village!” shrieked shrilly a peasant-woman in a pointed coronet head-dress of unusual dimensions, thrusting her head through a garret-window. I emerged from the house.

“Where is Tresór?”--said I.--And at that moment I caught sight of my saviour. She was walking away from the gate, limping, all bitten, and covered with blood....

“But what was it, after all?”--I asked the people, as they went circling round the courtyard like crazy folk.

“A mad dog!”--they answered me, “belonging to the Count; it has been roving about here since yesterday.”

We had a neighbour, a Count; he had introduced some very dreadful dogs from over-sea. My knees gave way beneath me; I hastened to the mirror and looked to see whether I had been bitten. No; God be thanked, nothing was visible; only, naturally, my face was all green; but Nimfodóra Semyónovna was lying on the couch, and clucking like a hen. And that was easily to be understood: in the first place, nerves; in the second place, sensibility. But she came to herself, and asked me in a very languid way: was I alive? I told her that I was, and that Tresór was my saviour.

“Akh,”--said she,--“what nobility! And I suppose the mad dog smothered her?”

“No,”--said I,--“it did not smother her, but it wounded her seriously.”

“Akh,”--said she,--“in that case, she must be shot this very moment!”

“Nothing of the sort,”--said I;--“I won’t agree to that; I shall try to cure her.” ...

In the meanwhile, Tresór began to scratch at the door; I started to open it for her.

“Akh,”--cried she,--“what are you doing? Why, she will bite us all dreadfully!”

“Pardon me,”--said I,--“the poison does not take effect so soon.”

“Akh,”--said she,--“how is that possible? Why, you have gone out of your mind!”

“Nimfótchka,”--said I,--“calm thyself; listen to reason....”

But all at once she began to scream: “Go away; go away this instant with your disgusting dog!”

“I will go,”--said I.

“Instantly,”--said she,--“this very second! Take thyself off, brigand,”--said she,--“and don’t dare ever to show yourself in my sight again. Thou mightest go mad thyself!”

“Very good, ma’am,”--said I; “only give me an equipage, for I am afraid to go home on foot now.”

She riveted her eyes on me. “Give, give him a calash, a carriage, a drozhky, whatever he wants,--anything, for the sake of getting rid of him as quickly as possible. Akh, what eyes! akh, what eyes he has!”--And with these words she flew out of the room, dealing a maid who was entering a box on the ear,--and I heard her go off into another fit of hysterics.--And you may believe me or not, gentlemen, but from that day forth I broke off all acquaintance with Nimfodóra Semyónovna; and, taking all things into mature consideration, I cannot but add that for that circumstance also I owe my friend Tresór a debt of gratitude until I lie down in my coffin.

Well, sir, I ordered a calash to be harnessed, placed Tresór in it, and drove off home with her. At home I looked her over, washed her wounds, and thought to myself: “I’ll take her to-morrow, as soon as it is light, to the wizard in Efrém County. Now this wizard was an old peasant, a wonderful man; he would whisper over water--but others say that he emitted serpents’ venom on it--and give it to you to drink, and your malady would instantly disappear. By the way, I thought, I’ll get myself bled in Efrémovo; ’tis a good remedy for terror; only, of course, not from the arm, but from the bleeding-vein.”

“But where is that place--the bleeding-vein?”--inquired Finopléntoff, with bashful curiosity.

Don’t you know? That spot on the fist close to the thumb, on which one shakes snuff from the horn.--Just here, see! ’Tis the very best place for blood-letting; therefore, judge for yourselves; from the arm it will be venal blood, while from this spot it is sparkling. The doctors don’t know that, and don’t understand it; how should they, the sluggards, the dumb idiots? Blacksmiths chiefly make use of it. And what skilful fellows they are! They’ll place their chisel on the spot, give it a whack with their hammer--and the deed is done!... Well, sir, while I was meditating in this wise, it had grown entirely dark out of doors, and it was time to go to sleep. I lay down on my bed, and Tresór, of course, was there also. But whether it was because of my fright or of the stifling heat, or because the fleas or my thoughts were bothersome, at any rate, I could not get to sleep. Such distress fell upon me as it is impossible to describe; and I kept drinking water, and opening the window, and thrumming the “Kamárynskaya”[46] on the guitar, with Italian variations.... In vain! I felt impelled to leave the room,--and that’s all there was to it. At last I made up my mind. I took a pillow, a coverlet, and a sheet, and wended my way across the garden to the hay-barn; well, and there I settled myself. And there things were agreeable to me, gentlemen; the night was still, extremely still, only now and then a breeze as soft as a woman’s hand would blow across my cheek, and it was very cool; the hay was fragrant as tea, the katydids were rasping in the apple-trees; then suddenly a quail would emit its call--and you would feel that he was taking his ease, the scamp, sitting in the dew with his mate.... And the sky was so magnificent; the stars were twinkling, and sometimes a little cloud, as white as wadding, would float past, and even it would hardly stir....

At this point in the narrative, Skvorévitch sneezed; Kinarévitch, who never lagged behind his comrade in anything, sneezed also. Antón Stepánitch cast a glance of approbation at both.

Well, sir--[went on Porfíry Kapítonitch],--so I lay there, and still I could not get to sleep. A fit of meditation had seized upon me; and I pondered chiefly over the great marvel, how that Prokhóritch had rightly explained to me about the warning--and why such wonders should happen to me in particular.... I was astonished, in fact, because I could not understand it at all--while Tresórushko whimpered as she curled herself up on the hay; her wounds were paining her. And I’ll tell you another thing that kept me from sleeping--you will hardly believe it; the moon! It stood right in front of me, so round and big and yellow and flat; and it seemed to me as though it were staring at me--by Heaven it did; and so arrogantly, importunately.... At last I stuck my tongue out at it, I really did. Come, I thought, what art thou so curious about? I turned away from it; but it crawled into my ear, it illuminated the back of my head, and flooded me as though with rain; I opened my eyes, and what did I see? It made every blade of grass, every wretched little blade in the hay, the most insignificant spider’s web, stand out distinctly! “Well, look, then!” said I. There was no help for it. I propped my head on my hand and began to stare at it. But I could not keep it up; if you will believe it, my eyes began to stick out like a hare’s and to open very wide indeed, just as though they did not know what sleep was like. I think I could have eaten up everything with those same eyes. The gate of the hay-barn stood wide open; I could see for a distance of five versts out on the plain; and distinctly, not in the usual way on a moonlight night. So I gazed and gazed, and did not even wink.... And suddenly it seemed to me as though something were waving about far, far away ... exactly as though things were glimmering indistinctly before my eyes. Some time elapsed; again a shadow leaped across my vision,--a little nearer now; then again, still nearer. What is it? I thought. Can it be a hare? No, I thought, it is larger than a hare, and its gait is unlike that of a hare. I continued to look, and again the shadow showed itself, and it was moving now across the pasture-land (and the pasture-land was whitish from the moonlight) like a very large spot; it was plain that it was some sort of a wild beast--a fox or a wolf. My heart contracted within me ... but what was I afraid of, after all? Aren’t there plenty of wild animals running about the fields by night? But my curiosity was stronger than my fears; I rose up, opened my eyes very wide, and suddenly turned cold all over. I fairly froze rigid on the spot, as though I had been buried in ice up to my ears; and why? The Lord only knows! And I saw the shadow growing bigger and bigger, which meant that it was making straight for the hay-barn.... And then it became apparent to me that it really was a large, big-headed wild beast.... It dashed onward like a whirlwind, like a bullet.... Good heavens! What was it? Suddenly it stopped short, as though it scented something.... Why, it was the mad dog I had encountered that day! ’Twas he, ’twas he! O Lord! And I could not stir a finger, I could not shout.... It ran to the gate, glared about with its eyes, emitted a howl, and dashed straight for me on the hay!

But out of the hay, like a lion, sprang my Tresór; and then the struggle began. The two clinched jaw to jaw, and rolled over the ground in a ball! What took place further I do not remember; all I do remember is that I flew head over heels across them, just as I was, into the garden, into the house, and into my own bedroom!... I almost dived under the bed--there’s no use in concealing the fact. And what leaps, what bounds I made in the garden! You would have taken me for the leading ballerina who dances before the Emperor Napoleon on the day of his Angel--and even she couldn’t have overtaken me. But when I had recovered myself a little, I immediately routed out the entire household; I ordered them all to arm themselves, and I myself took a sword and a revolver. (I must confess that I had purchased that revolver after the Emancipation, in case of need, you know--only I had hit upon such a beast of a pedlar that out of three charges two inevitably missed fire.) Well, sir, I took all this, and in this guise we sallied forth, in a regular horde, with staves and lanterns, and directed our footsteps toward the hay-barn. We reached it and called--nothing was to be heard; we entered the barn at last.... and what did we see? My poor Tresórushko lay dead, with her throat slit, and that accursed beast had vanished without leaving a trace!

Then, gentlemen, I began to bleat like a calf, and I will say it without shame; I fell down on the body of my twofold rescuer, so to speak, and kissed her head for a long time. And there I remained in that attitude until my old housekeeper, Praskóvya, brought me to my senses (she also had run out at the uproar).