The Petty Demon

by Sologub, Fyodor

  Larisa glanced at her, winked at her and suddenly Valeriya felt cheerful and full of fun. Larisa stood up, shook her shoulders—and in an instant all four sisters were whirling around in a frenzied celebration, suddenly seized by an infectious madness, bawling after Darya the stupid words of more and more ditties, each one more absurd and boisterous than the last. The sisters were young, attractive and their voices had a clear and wild ring to them—the witches on Bald Mountain would have been envious of their ritual dance.

  All night long Lyudmila dreamt such sultry, African dreams! First she dreamt that she was lying in a stuffy overheated room and the blanket was slipping off her and baring her hot body—and there was a scaly, ringed serpent who had come crawling into her bedchamber and, raising itself, was creeping along the trunk and the branches of her beautiful legs …

  Then she dreamt of a lake and a torrid summer evening, beneath the ponderous accumulation of threatening clouds—and there she was lying on the shore, naked, with a smooth golden crown on her head. There was a smell of tepid stagnant water and mire, and the grass wilting from the sultry heat. Over the water, dark and ominously calm, a white swan came swimming, strong, majestically grand. It beat its wings noisily against the water and with a loud hissing sound, drew nearer and embraced her—it grew dark and eerie …

  It was Sasha’s face in both the serpent and the swan bending over Lyudmila, a face that was almost bluish in its pallor, with dark, mysteriously sorrowful eyes. And the bluish-black eyelashes, jealously concealing their spellbinding gaze, sank heavily and frighteningly.

  Then Lyudmila dreamt of a magnificent chamber with low, heavy vaults—and thronging with naked, strong and beautiful young boys. And the most beautiful of all was Sasha. She was sitting up high and the naked youths were taking turns whipping one another before her. And when they put Sasha down on the floor, facing Lyudmila, and were whipping him while he laughed and wept in a clear voice, she was laughing the way people laugh at times in their sleep when the heart starts to pound forcefully, laughing for a long while, unrestrainedly, with the laughter of self-obliviousness and death …

  In the morning after all these dreams, Lyudmila felt that she was passionately in love with Sasha. Lyudmila was gripped by an impatient desire to see him, but she was annoyed to think that she would see him dressed. How stupid that little boys don’t go around naked! Or at least barefoot, like the street urchins in the summer at whom Lyudmila loved to look because they were going around barefoot and at times with their legs left bare quite high.

  “It’s just as though it were shameful to have a body,” Lyudmila thought, “so that even little boys hide it.”

  XV

  VOLODIN ATTENDED THE Adamenkos’ diligently for lessons. His dreams that the young lady would treat him to coffee were not realized. He was taken each time directly to the small room set aside for the manual work. Misha was usually already standing there in a gray canvas apron by the work bench, having prepared everything necessary for the lesson. He willingly did everything that Volodin asked him, but he did so without any real inclination. In order to work less, Misha tried to draw Volodin into conversation. Volodin wanted to be conscientious and wouldn’t give in. He said:

  “First of all, Mishenka, you be good enough to work for two hours and then afterwards if you are inclined, we’ll have a discussion. Then you can talk as much as you wish, but now, uh-uh, because work comes first.”

  Misha sighed gently and set to work, but at the end of the lesson he showed no desire for discussion. He would say that he didn’t have the time, that he had a lot to do. Sometimes Nadezhda would come to the lesson to have a look at how Misha was working. Misha noticed—and took advantage of it—that Volodin gave in more easily to conversation when she was around. However, Nadezhda, as soon as she would see that Misha wasn’t working, would say to him:

  “Misha, no laziness now!”

  Then she herself would leave after saying to Volodin:

  “Forgive me, I was bothering you. When I’m around he’s the kind of lad that’s not adverse to being lazy if he’s given a free rein.”

  At first Volodin was dismayed by this kind of behavior from Nadezhda. Afterwards he thought that she was embarrassed to treat him to coffee because she was afraid that it might perhaps cause gossip. Then he concluded that she didn’t have to come to the lessons at all, and yet she did come, and wasn’t that because she was pleased to see Volodin? And Volodin construed it to be in his favor that Nadezhda had willingly agreed from the very first that Volodin should give lessons and she hadn’t bargained over the price. Both Peredonov and Varvara had supported him in his thoughts.

  “It’s clear that she’s in love with you,” said Peredonov.

  “And what other husband could she want!” Varvara added.

  Volodin put on a modest face and rejoiced over his success.

  Once Peredonov said to him:

  “A prospective husband and here you’re wearing a grubby tie.”

  “I’m not a prospective husband yet, Ardasha,” Volodin answered discretely, nevertheless trembling all over from joy. “And I can always buy a new tie.”

  “Buy yourself a patterned one,” Peredonov advised, “so that people will see that love is at work inside you.”

  “A red tie,” Varvara said, “and the fancier the better, and a pin. You can buy a pin with a stone cheaply, and it’ll be really chic.”

  Peredonov thought that perhaps Volodin didn’t have enough money. Or that he would be too miserly and would buy the most ordinary black one. And that would be vile, thought Peredonov. Adamenko was a young lady of the world. If he went to her with a marriage proposal wearing any old tie, then she might be offended and refuse. Peredonov said:

  “Why buy a cheap one? Pavlusha, you won enough for a tie from me. How much do I owe you, a rouble and forty kopecks?”

  “You’re right about the forty kopecks,” Volodin said, baring his teeth and pulling a face. “Only it’s not one rouble, but two.”

  Peredonov knew himself that it was two roubles, but he would have liked better to pay only one rouble. He said:

  “You’re lying, where do you get two roubles from?”

  “Now Varvara Dmitrievna is a witness,” Volodin assured him.

  With a smirk Varvara said:

  “Go on, pay him, Ardalyon Borisych, if you lost. And I do remember that it was two roubles and forty kopecks.”

  Peredonov thought the fact that Varvara was standing up for Volodin meant that she was switching to his side. He scowled, pulled the money out of his pouch and said:

  “Well, alright, so it’s two roubles and forty kopecks, it won’t ruin me. You’re a poor man, Pavlushka, so there you go, take it.”

  Volodin took the money, counted it, then put on an offended face, bowed his steep forehead, puffed out his lower lip and said in a bleating id reverberating voice:

  “As you please, Ardalyon Borisych, you owed me the money and so you have to pay, but the fact that I’m poor, that simply has nothing to do with it. And I’m not asking anyone for bread, and you know that the only poor person is the devil who doesn’t have any bread to eat, but since I am still eating bread, and even with butter on it, I am not poor.”

  And having totally consoled himself, he started to blush with joy that he had answered so successfully and he started to laugh, after unscrewing his lips.

  Finally Peredonov and Volodin decided to go and make a marriage proposal. Both of them dressed up in their finest and had a solemn look that was more stupid than usual. Peredonov had put on a white neck scarf, while Volodin wore a gaudy tie that was red with green stripes.

  Peredonov reasoned thus:

  “I am going to make a marriage proposal, my role is a serious one and it’s a distinguished circumstance, so I should be wearing a white tie, whereas you are the prospective husband, you have to show your passionate sentiments.”

  With tense solemnity they seated themselves: Peredonov on the divan, Volodin in an armchair. N
adezhda Was looking at her guests in amazement. The guests chatted about the weather and about the news with the appearance of people who had come on delicate business and who didn’t know how to get around to it. Finally, Peredonov coughed and said:

  “Nadezhda Vasilyevna, we’ve come on business.”

  “On business,” Volodin said as well, assuming an important expression and puffing out his lips.

  “It concerns him,” Peredonov said and pointed his thumb at Volodin.

  “It concerns me,” Volodin confirmed and also pointed his thumb at himself, at his chest.

  Nadezhda smiled.

  “Please,” she said.

  “I will speak for him,” Peredonov said. “He’s bashful and can’t bring himself to do it for himself. But he is a worthy person, a nondrinker and kind. He doesn’t earn much, but that doesn’t mean a damn. Everyone needs something, some people need money and others need a person. Well, what are you so quiet for,” he turned to Volodin, “say something.”

  Volodin bowed his head and declared in a trembling voice, bleating like a sheep:

  “Of course I receive a small salary, but I ‘ll always have a piece of bread. Of course I was never at university, but I manage as God grant everyone, and I don’t know of any faults in myself, and anyway, whoever wants to can judge for himself. Well, really, I’m satisfied with myself.”

  He spread his hands, bowed his head just as though he were getting ready to butt, and fell silent.

  “So there it is,” Peredonov said. “He’s a young man, he shouldn’t have to live this way. He should get married. In general, it’s better for a married man.”

  “If the wife is of like mind, then what could be better?” Volodin confirmed.

  “And you,” Peredonov continued, “are a young girl. You ought to get married as well.”

  Behind the door they could hear a soft rustling, short muffled sounds as though someone were sighing or laughing with their mouth closed. Nadezhda looked sternly at the door and said coldly:

  “You are overly concerned about me,”—with a stress of annoyance on the word “overly.”

  “You don’t need a rich husband,” Peredonov said. “ You’re rich yourself. You need the kind of man who will love you and oblige you in everything. And you know such a man, as you may have guessed. He’s not indifferent to you. Perhaps you feel the same towards him. So here you are, I’ve got a buyer and you’ve got the goods. That is, you yourself are the goods.”

  Nadezhda blushed and bit her lips to restrain herself from laughing.

  The same sounds continued to come from behind the door. Volodin dropped his eyes modestly. It seemed to him that everything was going just fine.

  “What goods?” Nadezhda asked cautiously. “Forgive me, I don’t understand.”

  “Come, how can you not understand!” Peredonov said mistrustfully. “Well, I’ll say it straight: Pavel Vasilyevich is asking for your hand and heart. And I am asking on his behalf.”

  Behind the door something fell on the floor and was rolling about, snorting and sighing. Turning red from restrained laughter, Nadezhda regarded her guests. Volodin’s proposal seemed to her to be a ridiculous impertinence.

  “Yes,” Volodin said, “Nadezhda Vasilyevna, I am asking for your hand and your heart.”

  He blushed, stood up, scraped his foot forcefully over the carpet, bowed and quickly sat down. Then he stood up again, put his hand to his heart and said with a touching smile directed at the young lady:

  “Nadezhda Vasilyevna, allow me to explain myself. Since I love you even a great deal, then wouldn’t you really like to be of like mind?”

  He dashed forward, knelt down in front of Nadezhda and kissed her hand.

  “Nadezhda Vasilyevna, believe me! I swear it!” he exclaimed, raised his hand upwards and with full force struck himself in the chest with it so that a hollow sound echoed for a long distance.

  “Really, now, please stand up!” Nadezhda said in embarrassment. “Why all this?”

  Volodin stood up and with an offended expression returned to his place. There he pressed both hands to his chest and again exclaimed:

  “Nadezhda Vasilyevna, believe me! Till the day I die, with all my heart.”

  “Forgive me,” Nadezhda said. “Truly, I can’t. I must raise my brother and that’s him crying behind the door.”

  “What do you mean, raise your brother!” Volodin said, offended and puffing out his lips. “I don’t believe this would interfere.”

  “No, in any case, it concerns him,” Nadezhda said, hurriedly getting up. “I have to ask him. Wait.”

  She nimbly ran out of the sitting room, her bright yellow dress rustling, grabbed Misha by the shoulder behind the door, ran with him to his room and there, standing by the door, panting from running and from suppressed laughter, she said in a fitful voice:

  “It’s quite, quite useless to ask you not to eavesdrop. Is it really essential to seek recourse to the sternest measures?”

  Misha, embracing her around the waist and pressing his head to her, was roaring, shaking with laughter and from the attempt to suppress it. His sister shoved Misha into his room, sat down on a chair by the door and started to laugh.

  “Did you hear what he’s come up with, your Pavel Vasilyevich?” she asked. “Come with me into the sitting room and don’t you dare laugh. I’m going to ask you in front of them and don’t you dare agree. Understand?”

  “Ugh!” Misha lowed and stuck the end of a handkerchief into his mouth so he wouldn’t laugh—something which didn’t help much anyway.

  “Cover your eyes with the handkerchief if you feel like laughing,” his sister advised and again she took him by the shoulder into the sitting room.

  There she sat him down in an armchair while she herself took a place on a chair next to him. Volodin had an offended look, his head was bowed like that of a sheep.

  “Just look,” Nadezhda said, pointing to her brother, “I’ve barely wiped his tears away, the poor boy! I’m like a mother to him and suddenly he thinks that I’m going to leave him.”

  Misha covered his face with the handkerchief. His whole body was shaking. To hide his laughter he was producing long wailing sounds:

  “Boo-hoo, boo-hoo.”

  Nadezhda put her arms around him and pinched him surreptitiously on the arms and said:

  “Now, don’t cry, my dear, don’t cry.”

  It was so unexpectedly painful for Misha that tears came to his eyes. He lowered the handkerchief and looked angrily at his sister.

  “What if suddenly,” thought Peredonov, “the boy gets really angry and starts to bite. They say that people’s spittle is poisonous.”

  He moved closer to Volodin so as to hide behind him in the event of danger. Nadezhda said to her brother:

  “Pavel Vasilyevich is asking for my hand.”

  “Your hand and heart,” Peredonov added.

  “And your heart,” Volodin said modestly but with dignity.

  Misha covered himself with the handkerchief and sobbing with suppressed laughter said:

  “No, don’t marry him, what’ll happen to me if you do?”

  Volodin spoke in a voice that reverberated with offence and anxiety:

  “Nadezhda Vasilyevna, I am amazed that you are asking for permission from your brother, who, moreover, is pleased to be a boy. Even if he were pleased to be a grown up youth, you could decide for yourself even in that event. But now that you are asking his permission, Nadezhda Vasilyevna, well, that amazes me very much and even stuns me.”

  “Asking permission from young boys, now I find that ridiculous,” Peredonov said sullenly.

  “But whom am I to ask permission of? It makes no difference to my aunt, but then I have to raise him, so how can I marry you? Perhaps you’ll start to treat him cruelly. Isn’t that true, Misha, you’re afraid of the cruel things he’ll do?”

  “No, Nadya,” Misha said, peeking out with one eye from under his handkerchief. “I’m not afraid of the cruel things h
e’ll do, he’s not like that! But I am afraid that Pavel Vasilyevich will spoil me and won’t let you make me stand in the corner.”

  “Believe me, Nadezhda Vasilyevna,” Volodin said, pressing his hands to his heart, “I won’t spoil Mishenka. I don’t believe in spoiling a boy! He’ll be fed, dressed and shoed, but spoiled—uh-uh. I can also make him stand in the corner but I’d far from spoil him. I could even do more. Since you are a girl, that is, a young lady, then of course it’s not convenient for you, but I could handle the rod.”

  “Both of them will make me stand in the corner,” Misha said in a whining voice, once more covering his face with the handkerchief. “That’s the kind of people you are, and the rod on top of it. No. That’s no good to me. No, Nadya, don’t you dare marry him!”

  “Well, there you are, you heard him, I definitely can’t,” Nadezhda said.

  “It seems very strange to me, Nadezhda Vasilyevna, that you’re acting in this manner,” Volodin said. “I am greatly disposed to you and one might even say passionately so, whereas, among other things, you are doing it because of your brother. If you’re doing it now because of your brother, another one will be pleased to do so because of a cousin, a third because of a nephew, and there would even be someone doing it for some relative or other, and in that way no one would ever get married, with the result that the human race would come to a complete end.”

  “Don’t be worried about that, Pavel Vasilyevich,” Nadezhda said. “For the time being the world isn’t being threatened by that kind of danger. I do not want to get married without Misha’s consent, and he, as you heard, does not agree. And it’s understandable, you’re promising to give him a whipping right off. You might give me a beating as well.”

  “For goodness sake, Nadezhda Vasilyevna, do you really think that I would allow myself that kind of ignorance!” Volodin exclaimed in despair.

  Nadezhda smiled.

  “I myself do not have any wish to get married,” she said.