The Little Demon

by Fyodor Sologub

  Trepetov snorted angrily: something had offended him. Kirillov looked at him anxiously. Trepetov then said contemptuously, ‘Thinking people!’ whereupon he snorted again. After a moment’s silence he said in an offended voice, ‘I cannot understand how thinking people can support mouldy old theories like that.’

  Kirillov replied, without much assurance, ‘But you’re ignoring the fact that people sometimes have no choice as to their profession.’

  Trepetov snorted scornfully, which seemed finally to put paid to Kirillov. He lapsed into deep silence.

  Kirillov then turned to Peredonov. Having heard him speak about his hopes of an inspectorship he became worried: he thought that Peredonov was after a post in his own district. Only recently a proposal had been put forward by the district council to establish the post of inspector of schools, with the approval of the Education Committee. If this plan materialized, Bogdanov, who was in charge of schools in three districts, would be transferred to a neighbouring town and the schools in our district handed over to the new inspector. The council already had someone in view for this position, an instructor from a teachers’ training college in Safat.

  ‘I have a patron,’ said Peredonov, ‘only the headmaster here is trying to queer my pitch – and there’re others too. You wouldn’t believe what nonsense is being talked about me. In case they should come to you for information about me, I’m telling you that it’s a pack of lies. Don’t believe a word that these gentlemen say.’

  Kirillov was quick to reply. ‘Mr Peredonov, I haven’t the time to probe into all the slander and gossip that circulates in this town. I’m up to my eyes in work. And if I didn’t have my wife to help me, heaven knows how I would cope. I don’t have time to go anywhere, I never see a soul, I hear nothing. All the same I am quite convinced that there isn’t an atom of truth in any of these rumours – I really do believe it’s a lot of nonsense. But you may be aware that the appointment doesn’t depend on me alone.’

  ‘They might come and question you,’ said Peredonov.

  Kirillov looked at him in astonishment and said, ‘Of course they will. But the fact is we are intending—’

  Just then his wife appeared at the door and she asked him to come outside for a moment. She whispered anxiously, ‘You’d better not tell that fellow that Krasil’nikov is being considered for the job. I don’t trust him at all, I’m sure he’ll try and play some dirty trick on Krasil’nikov.’

  ‘You really think so?’ Kirillov whispered. ‘Well, perhaps you’re right. It’s a very nasty business.’

  He clutched his head in despair. His wife looked at him with businesslike sympathy and said, ‘It’s best not to say anything to him at all.’

  ‘Yes, dear, you’re right,’ he whispered. ‘But I must get back now or they’ll think I’m rude.’

  He went back into the study where he vigorously shuffled his feet and showered Peredonov with compliments.

  ‘So I can rely on you—’ Peredonov began.

  ‘Rest assured, my dear fellow. You don’t have to worry – I shall bear you in mind,’ Kirillov quickly said. ‘We haven’t reached a final decision on the matter yet.’

  Peredonov didn’t understand what matter Kirillov was referring to and he became apprehensive and depressed again. Kirillov continued, ‘At the moment we are preparing a network of schools. Some experts came specially from St Petersburg and worked on the project the whole summer. That set us back nine hundred roubles. The network has been carefully worked out and it’s an amazingly thorough piece of work. All distances in relation to the schools have been plotted on a map.’

  And Kirillov proceeded to describe in detail the master plan. The district would be split up into such small sections that each one would have its own school and the children wouldn’t have to travel far. Peredonov understood nothing and his dull brain became enmeshed in the web of verbiage that Kirillov was so deftly spinning. Finally he made his farewell and left in a hopelessly depressed state. In that house, he thought, they neither wanted to understand him nor even listen. What Kirillov said was completely unintelligible to him, Trepetov had done nothing but snort the whole time and Kirillov’s wife hadn’t been at all friendly, coming and going without saying a word to him. Strange people in that house! he thought. A wasted day.

  ELEVEN

  On Saturday Peredonov decided to see the district police chief. Although he isn’t such an important bird as the marshal of the nobility, thought Peredonov, he could do me more harm than anyone else. At the same time, if he wants to, he could put in a good word for me with the authorities. After all, the importance of the police cannot be ignored.

  He took his cap with the badge out of a box and decided from now on not to wear anything else. The headmaster could wear whatever hat he liked – he was well in with the authorities. But Peredonov wasn’t an inspector yet and couldn’t count on his patronage, so it was up to him to show himself in the best possible light. A few days ago, before he had embarked on his visits to the powers that be, he had already given the matter some thought but he always ended up wearing his ordinary hat. Now he arranged things differently: he threw it up over the stove so that there would be no chance of picking it up by mistake.

  Varvara wasn’t at home and Claudia was scrubbing the floors. Peredonov went into the kitchen to wash his hands. On the table was a roll of blue paper out of which some raisins had fallen. They were for the tea-buns and there was a whole pound of them. Peredonov didn’t even bother to wash them, but greedily scoffed them as they were, standing at the table with one eye on the door in case Claudia came in unexpectedly. Then he carefully folded the paper and carried it under his jacket into the hall, where he stuffed it in his overcoat pocket so that he could throw it away in the street and thus destroy the evidence.

  He went off to the district police chief. Claudia soon discovered the theft and frantically searched all over the house but could find nothing. When Varvara returned and found out she gave her a ferocious telling-off – she was sure Claudia had eaten them.

  Outside it was windy, but the streets were quiet. Only a few scattered rain-clouds drifted across the sky. Puddles were drying up. In the sky was a pale joyful glimmer, but Peredonov’s heart was full of anguish.

  On the way he called in at the tailor’s and told him to hurry up with the new uniform he had ordered two days before.

  As he passed the church Peredonov took off his cap and crossed himself three times very ostentatiously so that everyone would notice the pious future inspector. He had never done this before, but now he had to be on the alert. Perhaps a spy was stealthily following him, or hiding behind a tree and watching his every movement?

  The police chief lived right on the other side of town. At the gate, which was wide open, Peredonov met a constable. As before, this only increased his depression. Outside in the courtyard were several peasants, not of the usual rough type, but unusually quiet and submissive. The yard was muddy and some carts covered with matting stood near the gate.

  Peredonov met another constable in the dark hall, a short skinny man, efficient-looking, but miserable. He stood motionless, with a brown leather-bound book under his arm. A dishevelled, barefooted girl appeared from one of the side-doors, took Peredonov’s coat and led him into the drawing-room. ‘Please wait here, he won’t be long,’ she said.

  The drawing-room ceiling was oppressively low, thought Peredonov. The furniture was ranged close to the wall. Rope mats lay on the floor. From behind the walls to the right and left could be heard whispers and rustlings. Pale-faced women and pock-marked boys, with hungry gleaming eyes, peered out from doors every now and then. Above the whispers Peredonov could make out some questions and answers.

  ‘I brought …’

  ‘Where shall I take it?’

  ‘Where would you like this put?’

  ‘It’s from Yermoshkin, Sidor Petrovich.’

  The police chief soon appeared. He was buttoning up his tunic and sweetly smiling. ‘So sorry to have ke
pt you waiting,’ he said as he took Peredonov’s hand in his huge grasping hands. ‘I’ve had so many callers today. You know, you can’t put anything off until tomorrow in the police service!’

  Semyon Minchukov was a tall, thickset man with black hair that was thinning on top. He had a slight stoop and his fingers were like rakes, pointing downwards. His continual smile gave the impression that he had just tasted forbidden fruit and was now licking his lips. His nose was bulbous, his lips thick and bright red and his face eager, sensuous and stupid.

  Peredonov was perturbed by all he had seen and heard. He muttered a few incoherent words as he sat down in an armchair and tried to hold his cap so that the badge would be seen. Minchukov sat on the other side of the table and his rake-like hands kept opening and closing on his knees.

  ‘They’re saying heaven knows what about me,’ Peredonov said. ‘Things that never even happened. If it comes to informing I’m quite capable of that myself. I’m nothing that they say I am but I could say plenty of things about them. Only I don’t want to. They talk all kinds of rubbish behind your back and then laugh in your face. You must agree that it’s all rather tricky for someone in my position. As a matter of fact I have influential patrons – but these people are doing their best to spoil everything. They’re only wasting their time following me around but they’re a real nuisance. Wherever one goes, the whole town knows about it. So I hope that I can count on your support, should I need it.’

  ‘Of course. With the greatest pleasure!’ Minchukov said, holding out his broad palms. ‘Of course, we the police must be informed if there is anyone you have reason to suspect.’

  ‘To be frank, I really don’t give a damn,’ Peredonov said irately. ‘Let them talk if they want to. But I’m afraid they might spoil my chances. They’re a cunning lot. You’ve no idea what they’re all saying – Rutilov, for instance. How do you know he’s not planning to blow up the Treasury? One way of shifting blame is to throw suspicion on others.’

  At first Minchukov thought that Peredonov was drunk and talking utter nonsense. Having heard more, he concluded that Peredonov was accusing someone of slander and wanted steps to be taken.

  ‘Those young people,’ Peredonov continued, with Volodin in mind, ‘think a lot of themselves. They like to plot against others when they’re up to something shady themselves. Of course, it’s all too common for young people to be led astray at times. There are even some employed in the police force who go snooping around.’

  For a long time he talked about young people, but for some reason he didn’t want to mention Volodin. He wanted Minchukov to understand that he had unfavourable information about certain police officers. Minchukov realized that Peredonov meant two police clerks in the constabulary, young and frivolous and always chasing the girls. Minchukov couldn’t help being affected by Peredonov’s obvious anxiety and worriedly said, ‘I shall see investigations are carried out.’ After a brief pause for thought he continued, sweetly smiling, ‘There are in fact two young clerks in my department whose mothers’ milk isn’t yet dry on their lips. Can you imagine, one of them is still made to stand in the corner by his mamma!’

  Peredonov burst out laughing.

  Meanwhile Varvara had gone to see Grushina, who told her a startling piece of news.

  ‘Varvara, dear,’ Grushina said hurriedly, hardly giving her time to enter the hall, ‘you’ll gasp when you hear what I’ve got to tell you.’

  ‘Well, what is it?’ Varvara asked, grinning.

  ‘You wouldn’t believe there’s such scum in this world. I never knew people could stoop so low to get what they want.’

  ‘Well, I’m waiting.’

  ‘Sit down and I’ll tell you.’

  The crafty Grushina first gave Varvara some coffee and then sent her little brats out to play in the street, but the eldest daughter stubbornly refused to go.

  ‘You good-for-nothing little slut!’ cried Grushina.

  ‘Slut yourself,’ the girl insolently replied and stamped her feet.

  Grushina grabbed her by the hair, threw her out and slammed the door.

  ‘The obstinate bitch!’ she complained to Varvara. ‘It’s really terrible with those children. I’m all on my own and I just can’t cope. If only their father were alive!’

  ‘You must marry again. Then they’ll have a father,’ Varvara reasoned.

  ‘Well, you never know who you’ll get landed with, dear. The next one might bully them to death.’

  At this moment the daughter rushed up to the window and showered them both with a handful of sand. Grushina poked her head out and shouted, ‘You rotten cow! I’ll show you what’s what! You wait till I get my hands on you – you filthy slut!’

  ‘Slut yourself! You wicked old fool!’ the girl shouted from the street, hopping on one foot and showing her dirty little fists.

  Grushina shouted, ‘Just you wait!’ and shut the window. Then she sat down quite calmly, as if nothing had happened, and said, ‘I wanted to tell you the news but I’m not sure if I ought to. But you needn’t worry, dear, they won’t get away with it.’

  ‘What’s it all about?’ asked Varvara, who by now was feeling rather frightened. Her coffee saucer shook.

  ‘Well, you know a new boy’s joined the school because his aunt’s bought an estate here? He’s called Pylnikov and he’s gone straight into the fifth form. They say he’s from Ruban.’

  ‘Oh yes, I know,’ Varvara said. ‘I saw him when he came with his aunt. A pretty boy. Always blushing though, and just like a girl.’

  ‘But Varvara, dear, it’s not surprising he looks like a girl. He is one – in disguise!’

  ‘You don’t say!’ exclaimed Varvara.

  ‘It’s all part of a plan to trap Peredonov,’ said Grushina rapidly. She waved her hands wildly and felt very pleased that she was the purveyor of such important news. ‘This girl has a first cousin, an orphan who went to school in Ruban. The girl’s mother took him away from the school there and used his papers to get the girl into school here. You’ll notice that he’s in lodgings on his own, without any other boys, so that the whole affair will be kept in the dark.’

  ‘How on earth did you find out?’ asked Varvara sceptically.

  ‘News travels fast, dear. Anyway, it was suspicious from the start. He was different from the others, so quiet and gentle and very withdrawn. But to look at he seems just like any rosy-cheeked, healthy, broad-chested boy. He’s so shy, when the others speak to him he blushes and they tease him for acting like a girl. They don’t know how right they are! The landlady doesn’t suspect a thing. You can’t imagine what a cunning lot they are!’

  ‘But you still haven’t told me how you found out,’ Varvara repeated.

  ‘Varvara, dear, is there anything that goes on that I don’t know about? I know everyone in the entire district. It’s common knowledge that they have a boy at home who’s the same age as this one. Now, why didn’t they send them to school together? They made excuses that he was ill during the summer, that he was to convalesce for a year and then go back to the high school. But that’s all nonsense. The real schoolboy is at home. Apart from that, everyone knows that they had a girl. They said she got married and went off to the Caucasus. It’s all lies. She didn’t go away at all and she’s living here disguised as a boy.’

  ‘But what’s at the back of it all?’ Varvara asked.

  ‘What’s at the back of it? Do you mean to say you can’t guess?’ Grushina replied excitedly. ‘To hook one of the teachers. There’s no shortage of bachelors. Or they may have someone else in mind. Dressed as a boy she could get into the men’s rooms and there’s no limit to what she could achieve.’

  ‘You said she was pretty?’ asked Varvara apprehensively.

  ‘I should say so! A real beauty. Only she’s a little shy. But just give her time to settle down, let herself go a bit, and then she’ll turn everyone’s head in this town. They’re really very clever, you know. As soon as I found out I tried to speak to his landlady
– or should I say her landlady? I really don’t know what to say!’

  ‘Ugh, a real werewolf, heaven help us!’ Varvara said.

  ‘I went to their parish church for evening service on St Panteleimon’s Day – she’s very religious, you know. I said to her, “Olga, why is there only one boy staying with you? You can’t make very much out of that.” And she replied, “Why should I want more, it’s only extra work.” So I told her, “You used to take in two or three.” And she replied, “They made it a condition that Sasha was on his own. They said that they weren’t poor and would pay me extra. They were scared that other boys might be a bad influence.” What do you think of that?’

  ‘The crafty devils!’ Varvara said spitefully. ‘Did you tell her it was a girl?’

  ‘Yes, I told her, “Did you know they’ve palmed you off with a girl?” ’

  ‘And what did she say to that?’

  ‘She thought I was joking and laughed. Then I said, more seriously, “Olga, you know they’re saying it’s a girl?” She wouldn’t believe me and said that it was all a lot of nonsense, that she wasn’t blind and that it couldn’t possibly be one.’

  Varvara was shaken by this story. She believed every word of it and was sure that another attack on Peredonov was being prepared. The girl must be exposed at once. They argued for a long time about what was to be done but without hitting on any plan of action.

  Varvara was put into an even worse frame of mind by the missing raisins. When Peredonov returned home Varvara quickly and excitedly told him that Claudia had hidden them somewhere and wouldn’t own up.

  ‘And what’s more, she’s even suggesting that you’ve eaten them. She says you went into the kitchen while she was scrubbing the floors and that you were there quite a time.’