The Petty Demon

by Sologub, Fyodor

  Sasha laughed.

  “Tell me what it is today,” Sasha begged her.

  “I can’t today. And how could I tell you today? You wouldn’t come tomorrow then and you’d say what’s the point of going.”

  “Well, alright, I’ll come if they let me.”

  “What else now, of course they’ll let you! You’re hardly being kept on a chain.”

  Saying goodbye, Lyudmila kissed Sasha on the forehead and raised her hand to Sasha’s lips—he was obliged to kiss it. And it was pleasant for Sasha to kiss that white tender hand once more. Yet it was almost shameful at the same time. How could he not help but blush! As she walked away, Lyudmila kept giving him a sly but tender smile. And she turned around several times.

  “How sweet she is!” Sasha thought.

  He was left alone.

  “How quickly she left!” he thought. “She suddenly made up her mind and gave me no chance to come to my senses before she had already left!” Sasha thought. And he felt ashamed because he had forgotten to volunteer to accompany her.

  “I ought to have gone part of the way with her!” Sasha was lost in reverie. “Maybe I could catch up to her? Has she gone far? If I run quickly I could catch her up smartly.”

  “Is she likely to laugh?” thought Sasha. “Or perhaps I’d just be getting in her way.”

  Thus he decided not to run after her. He felt somehow bored and at a loss. That tender sensation from the kiss still lingered faintly on his lips and her kiss burned his forehead.

  “How tenderly she kisses!” Sasha reminisced dreamily. “Just like a dear sister.”

  Sasha’s cheeks were burning. He had a pleasurable and shameful feeling. Nebulous dreams were being born.

  “If she were my sister!” Sasha was daydreaming blissfully, “I could go up to her, embrace her and say something tender to her. I could say to her: Lyudmilochka, my dearest! Or I could use some quite special name for her—Tinkle or Dragonfly. And she would answer me. That would really be happiness.”

  “But she’s a stranger, a dear one, but a stranger. She came and left and I daresay she’s not even thinking about me now. All she left behind was the fragrance of lilac and roses and the sensation of two tender kisses—and a vague excitement in my heart that gives birth to a sweet daydream, just as the wave gave birth to Aphrodite.”

  Kokovkina returned shortly.

  “Phew, you smell so strongly!” she said.

  Sasha blushed.

  “Lyudmilochka was here,” he said, “but you weren’t at home and she sat for a while, put perfume on me and then left.”

  “Such tender ways,” the old lady said. “You’re already calling her Lyudmilochka.”

  Sasha laughed in embarrassment and ran off to his room. Meanwhile Kokovkina was thinking that those Rutilov sisters were cheerful and affectionate girls—they knew how to flatter both the old and the young with their affection.

  From the morning on the following day Sasha felt cheerful to think that he had been invited. He waited impatiently for dinner at home. After dinner, blushing all over from embarrassment, he asked Kokovkina’s permission to go off to the Rutilovs’ until seven o’clock. Kokovkina was amazed but she let him go. Sasha ran off cheerfully after painstakingly combing and even pomading his hair. He was rejoicing and was slightly excited as though in anticipation of something nice and important. And he was pleased to think that he would arrive, kiss Lyudmila’s hand and she would kiss him on the forehead. And later, when he would be leaving, again the same kisses. He dreamt pleasurably about Lyudmila’s white tender hand.

  All three sisters greeted Sasha while he was still in the front hall. They loved to sit by the window looking out on the street and for that reason had caught sight of him from afar. Cheerful, dressed up and twittering brightly, they surrounded him with their effervescent blizzard of cheerfulness—and he immediately felt pleasant and relaxed with them.

  “Here he is, the mysterious young fellow!” Lyudmila exclaimed joyfully.

  Sasha kissed her hand and he did so adeptly and with great satisfaction. At the same time he also kissed the hands of Darya and Valeriya. There was no avoiding them and he discovered that this also gave him a distinct pleasure. All the more so because all three kissed him on the cheek: Darya kissed loudly but indifferently, like he was a board; Valeriya did it tenderly with downcast eyes, cunning eyes, giggling softly and gently touching him with her delicate joyful lips, and the kiss fell on his cheek like a fragrant apple blossom; and Lyudmila gave him a smacking kiss, joyfully, cheerfully and firmly.

  “This is my guest,” she declared resolutely, took Sasha by the shoulders and led him off to her room.

  Darya immediately grew angry.

  “Your guest, so go ahead and kiss with him all you want!” she cried angrily. “She’s found herself a treasure! No one’s going to take it away.”

  Valeriya said nothing, just grinned—it would be very interesting to have a chat with the boy! What does he understand?

  In Lyudmila’s room it was spacious, cheerful and bright because of two large windows that looked out on the garden and which were lightly curtained with a delicate yellowish lace. There was a sweet fragrance. Everything was smart and bright. The chairs and armchairs were upholstered in a golden-yellow fabric with a barely discernible white pattern. A variety of phials for perfume, toilet waters, jars, tins, fans and several Russian and French books were to be seen.

  “I dreamt about you last night,” Lyudmila said with a laugh. “You were swimming by the town bridge while I was sitting on the bridge and I caught you with my fishing rod.”

  “And put me in a jar?” Sasha asked with amusement.

  “Why into a jar?”

  “But where else?”

  “Where else? I plucked you by the ears and tossed you back into the river.”

  And Lyudmila burst into a long ringing laughter.

  “Oh, you’re quite a one!” Sasha said. “What did you want to say to me today?”

  Lyudmila laughed and didn’t reply.

  “Obviously you deceived me,” Sasha guessed. “And you also promised to show me something,” he said reproachfully.

  “I’ll show you! Do you want to eat?” Lyudmila asked.

  “I’ve already had dinner,” Sasha said. “Oh, what a deceiver you are!”

  “As though I needed to deceive you. Is that pomade you’re reeking of?” Lyudmila suddenly asked. Sasha blushed.

  “I can’t bear pomade!” Lyudmila said with annoyance. “A little miss with pomade in his hair!”

  She ran her hand over his hair, got oil on her hand and slapped him on the cheek with her palm.

  “Please, don’t you dare use pomade!” she said.

  Sasha was dismayed.

  “Alright, I won’t,” he said. “What stern measures! But you use perfume!”

  “Perfume is one thing and pomade another, silly! Imagine trying to are the two,” she said with conviction. “I never use pomade. Why stick your hair together! Perfume is not the same thing at all. Here, let me put some perfume on you. Is that appealing to you? I’ll put lilac on you, is that appealing?”

  “Yes, it is appealing to me,” Sasha said with a smile.

  It was pleasant for him to think that he would carry the scent home with himself and surprise Kokovkina once more.

  “Who finds it appealing?” Lyudmila asked again, took a phial with a syringe and gazed slyly and questioningly at Sasha.

  “It really is appealing to me,” Sasha repeated.

  “Is it appealing to you? A peeling? I see! You think it’s a peeling from an orange!” Lyudmila teased him cheerfully.

  Sasha and Lyudmila burst into cheerful laughter.

  “You’re not afraid any more that I’m going to ‘atomize’ you?” Lyudmila asked. “Do you remember what a coward you were yesterday?”

  “I wasn’t any coward,” Sasha replied hotly, flaring up.

  Lyudmila chuckled and started to apply the perfume, teasing him all the while.
Sasha thanked her and kissed her hand once more.

  “And please, cut your hair!” Lyudmila said sternly. “What’s so nice about wearing long curls, you’ll scare horses with your hairdo.”

  “Well, alright, I’ll get it cut, “Sasha agreed. “Such terrible measures! My hair is still quite short, only a half-inch long and the inspector didn’t say anything to me about my hair.”

  “I like young people with their hair cut short, take note of that,” Lyudmila said gravely and threatened him with a finger. “And I’m not your inspector, you have to obey me.”

  From that time Lyudmila got into the habit of going to Kokovkina’s for Sasha more and more frequently. Particularly at first she tried to come when Kokovkina wasn’t at home. At times she resorted to cunning and lured the old woman out of the house. Darya said to her once:

  “E-ech, what a coward you are! You’re afraid of the old woman. If she’s there when you arrive, then just take him away—for a walk.”

  Lyudmila obeyed and started to go at whatever the time. If she found Kokovkina at home, then, after sitting with her for a little while, she would take Sasha for a walk. But if that were the case, then she never kept him for long.

  Lyudmila and Sasha were quickly drawn into a tender but uneasy friendship. Without noticing it herself, Lyudmila was already arousing in Sasha urges and desires that were precocious and as yet vague. Sasha frequently kissed Lyudmila’s hands—those delicate, pliant fingers covered with a tender supple skin—and the meandering blue veins were visible through the yellowish pink membrane. And higher up—the long shapely arms—it was easy to kiss them right up to the elbows after pushing back the wide sleeves.

  Sometimes Sasha concealed from Kokovkina that Lyudmila was coming. He didn’t lie, he simply said nothing. Besides, how could he lie—the servant herself could tell the truth. And it wasn’t easy for Sasha to keep quiet about Lyudmila’s visits because her laughter continued to echo in his ears. He wanted to talk about her. But for some reason it was awkward for him to do so.

  Sasha quickly became friends with the other sisters as well. He would kiss all their hands and within a short while he even started to call the girls Dashenka, Lyudmilochka and Valerochka.

  XVII

  ONCE WHEN LYUDMILA met Sasha on the street during the day, she said to him:

  “The director’s oldest daughter is celebrating her name day tomorrow. Is your old lady going?”

  “I don’t know,” Sasha said.

  And a joyful hope stirred in his heart, and it was not so much a hope as a desire that Kokovkina would go and Lyudmila would come and spend time with him precisely at that time. In the evening he reminded Kokovkina of the coming name day.

  “I almost forgot,” Kokovkina said. “I’ll go. She’s such a nice girl.”

  And directly after Sasha returned from the gymnasium, Kokovkina left to go to the Khripach family. Sasha was overjoyed by the thought that he was able to get Kokovkina out of the house. Now he was certain that Lyudmila would find the time to come.

  And so it happened that Lyudmila did come. She kissed Sasha on the cheek, let him kiss her hand and she laughed cheerfully while he reddened. A sweet, floral, moist fragrance wafted from Lyudmila’s clothing: rose and iris. The fleshly and voluptuous iris dissolved in the sweet reverie of roses. Lyudmila had brought a narrow box wrapped in a fine paper through which a yellowish drawing was visible. She sat down, put the box on her knees and looked slyly at Sasha.

  “Do you like dates?” she asked.

  “I adore them,” Sasha said with a funny face.

  “Well, I’m going to treat you,” Lyudmila said gravely.

  She undid the box and said:

  “Eat!”

  She herself took one date at a time out of the box and put it into Sasha’s mouth and after each one she forced him to kiss her hand. Sasha said:

  “My lips have become so sweet!”

  “It’s hardly a misfortune that they’ve become sweet, go ahead and kiss to your heart’s content,” Lyudmila answered cheerfully. “I won’t be offended.”

  “It would be better if I gave you all the kisses afterwards at once,” Sasha said with a chuckle. And he was about to reach for a date himself.

  “Deceiver, deceiver!” Lyudmila cried, deftly slapped the box shut and struck Sasha on the fingers.

  “Come now, I’m honest and I won’t deceive you,” Sasha assured her.

  “No, no, I don’t believe you,” Lyudmila insisted.

  “Well, do you want me to give you all the kisses first?” Sasha offered.

  “Now that’s more like it,” Lyudmila said joyfully. “Kiss me.”

  She stretched out her hand to Sasha. Sasha took her slender, long fingers, kissed them once and asked with a sly grin without letting her hand go:

  “You won’t deceive me, Lyudmilochka?”

  “As though I weren’t honest!” Lyudmila answered cheerfully. “Don’t worry, I won’t deceive you, you can kiss me without having any doubts.”

  Sasha bent down over her hand and started to kiss it quickly. He fairly covered the hand with kisses, making loud smacking sounds with his widely parted lips and he felt pleased that he could cover her with so many kisses. Lyudmila counted up the kisses carefully. She counted to ten and said:

  “It’s awkward for you standing on your feet, you should bend down.”

  “I’ll arrange myself more comfortably,” Sasha said.

  He got down on his knees and continued zealously with his kisses.

  Sasha loved to eat. He liked to have Lyudmila treat him to sweets. He loved her even more tenderly for that reason.

  Lyudmila sprayed Sasha with a sickly sweet smelling perfume. Sasha was amazed at the fragrance: sweet but strange, dizzying, murky bright, like the early, goldening, but sinful dawn behind a white mist. Sasha said:

  “What strange perfume!”

  “Try it on your hand,” Lyudmila advised.

  She gave him an unattractive rectangular bottle with rounded edges. Sasha peered at the color—a brilliant yellow, cheerful liquid. An enormous colorful label with an inscription in French: cyclamen from Piver’s. Sasha took hold of the flat glass stopper, pulled it out and smelled the perfume. Then he did it the way Lyudmila loved to do it: he put the palm of his hand over the mouth of the bottle, quickly inverted it and then turned it right side up, rubbed the drops of cyclamen together on his palms and carefully smelled his palm. The alcohol dissipated and the pure fragrance remained. Lyudmila looked at him with mounting anticipation. Sasha said uncertainly:

  “It smells a little like a sugar-coated bedbug.”

  “Now, now, stop your lying, please,” Lyudmila said with annoyance.

  She also took some of the perfume on her hand and smelled. Sasha repeated:

  “Really, it smells like a bedbug.”

  Lyudmila suddenly flared up so that little tears glittered in her eyes and she struck Sasha on the cheek and cried:

  “Ah, you wicked boy! That’s for your bedbug!”

  “That was a hefty blow!” Sasha said, laughed and kissed Lyudmila’s hand. “Why are you so angry, Lyudmilochka, sweetheart! Well, what do you think it smells of?”

  The blow didn’t anger him, he was completely enchanted by Lyudmila.

  “What does it smell of?” Lyudmila asked and grabbed Sasha by the ear. “I’ll tell you right away what it smells of, but first I’m going to pluck your ear off.”

  “Oi-oi-oi, Lyudmilochka, darling, I won’t do it again!” Sasha said, screwing up his face from the pain and doubling over.

  Lyudmila let go of the reddened ear, tenderly drew Sasha to herself, sat him down on her knees and said:

  “Listen. Three spirits reside in cyclamen. This poor little flower smells of sweet ambrosia and that is for the worker bees. Surely you know that in Russian it is called sowbread.”

  “Sowbread,” Sasha repeated with a chuckle. “What a funny name.”

  “Don’t you laugh, you imp,” Lyudmila said, took him by th
e other ear and continued. “Sweet ambrosia and the bees buzz above it and that is its joy. And it also smells of a delicate vanilla and that is no longer intended for the bees, but for what they are dreaming about. That is its desire—the little flower and the golden sun overhead. And its third spirit, it smells of a delicate sweet body, for the one who is in love, and that is its love—the poor little flower and the heavy midday sultry heat. The bee, the sun, the sultry heat—now do you understand, light of my eye?”

  Sasha nodded his head silently. His swarthy face was flaming and his long dark eyelashes were trembling. Lyudmila was gazing dreamily into the distance. She was all flushed and she said:

  “It brings joy, that delicate and sunny cyclamen, it beckons to desires that bring sweet and shameful feelings and it excites the blood. You understand, my little sun, when something is sweet, joyful and painful and you feel like weeping? Do you understand? That’s the kind of flower it is.”

  She clung to Sasha’s lips with a lingering kiss.

  Lyudmila was staring pensively straight ahead. Suddenly a sly grin passed over her lips. She gave Sasha a gentle nudge and asked:

  “Do you like dandelions?”

  Sasha sighed, opened his eyes, smiled sweetly and whispered gently:

  “I do.”

  “What kind?” Lyudmila asked.

  “All kinds, big and small,” Sasha said enthusiastically and stood up from her knees with an adroit boyish movement.

  “So you like dandelions?” Lyudmila asked tenderly and her ringing voice was trembling with concealed laughter.

  “I do,” Sasha answered quickly.

  Lyudmila started to laugh and blushed.

  “Silly, you like dandelions, but you’ve never even been to a zoo,” she exclaimed.

  They both roared with laughter and blushed.

  These stimulations—of necessity innocent—represented the principal delight of their affair for Lyudmila. They excited, yet were far removed from vulgar and repulsive consummation.

  They started to argue about who was the stronger. Lyudmila said: