The Little Demon

by Fyodor Sologub

  ‘I wasn’t there very long,’ Peredonov said sullenly. ‘Just washing my hands. But I didn’t see any raisins.’

  ‘Claudia!’ Varvara shouted. ‘The master says he didn’t see any raisins. You must have hidden them somewhere.’

  Claudia’s red face, swollen from tears, appeared from the kitchen. ‘I didn’t take your raisins,’ she sobbed. ‘If it’ll satisfy you, I’ll pay for them. But I didn’t take them!’

  ‘I’ll see you do that all right! Do you think I’m obliged to feed you on raisins?’ Varvara angrily shouted.

  Peredonov burst out laughing and called out, ‘Our little piggy’s gobbled up a whole pound!’

  ‘It’s not fair!’ Claudia said and slammed the door.

  Over dinner Varvara couldn’t resist telling Peredonov all she’d heard about Pylnikov. She didn’t stop to consider whether she would gain by this or not, or how Peredonov would take it. She spoke simply out of spite.

  Peredonov tried unsuccessfully to remember who Pylnikov was. Up to now he hadn’t paid much attention to this new boy, whom he detested for being pretty and well washed, for being well behaved, a good student and the youngest boy in the fifth form. Varvara’s narrative aroused lewd feelings of curiosity in him. Obscene thoughts slowly stirred in his dark mind …

  I must go to evening service and see this disguised girl, he thought.

  All of a sudden Claudia rushed in and triumphantly threw a crumpled ball of blue paper on to the table. ‘So I took your raisins, did I?’ she shouted. ‘Well, what’s that! What would I want with your raisins?’

  Peredonov realized that he had forgotten to throw the wrapper away in the street and Claudia had found it in his overcoat pocket.

  ‘To hell with it!’ he shouted.

  ‘What’s this … where did you find it?’ Varvara asked.

  ‘In the master’s pocket,’ Claudia venomously replied. ‘He ate them and I’m blamed for it. You know what a sweet tooth he has. Why put the blame on others if—’

  ‘That’s enough!’ protested Peredonov. ‘It’s all lies. You put it there yourself. I didn’t take anything.’

  ‘Why should I put it in your pocket, for God’s sake?’ Claudia said distractedly.

  ‘How dare you sneak into other people’s pockets!’ Varvara shouted. ‘Looking for money?’

  ‘I never looked in anyone’s pocket! I was taking the coat to be cleaned, it was filthy.’

  ‘But why did you go into the pocket?’

  ‘It just fell out. Why should I go looking in other people’s pockets?’ Claudia pleaded.

  ‘You’re lying, piggy!’ Peredonov said.

  ‘I’m not your little piggy. You’re always making fun of me … To hell with you! I’ll pay for the raisins and I hope you choke on them. You’re the one who scoffed them and I have to pay up! It seems you’ve no conscience, no sense of decency, yet you call yourselves decent people!’

  Claudia went out into the kitchen, crying and swearing. Peredonov had a fit of laughing and said, ‘Very touchy, isn’t she?’

  ‘I’ll see she pays for them,’ Varvara said. ‘Give them half a chance and they’ll gobble everything up, the ravenous devils.’

  For a long time afterwards Claudia was teased for eating the raisins. The money was deducted from her wages and they told all their visitors about it.

  The cat, attracted by all the shouting, came in from the kitchen, rubbed along the wall and sat near Peredonov, glaring at him with hungry, evil eyes. Peredonov bent down to pick it up. It hissed furiously, scratched his hand and fled under the cupboard, from where it kept looking out, its narrow green eyes glinting in the darkness. It’s just like a werewolf, thought Peredonov apprehensively.

  Meanwhile Varvara, still preoccupied with the identity of Pylnikov, said, ‘It might be a good idea if you went to see some of the boys in their lodgings instead of playing billiards every night. They know the teachers rarely call on them and that the inspector comes only once a year, so all sorts of shocking things are going on – drunken orgies and gambling. Why don’t you go to see this disguised girl? If you went late, about bedtime, then you might catch her by surprise and embarrass her.’

  Peredonov pondered for a moment and then burst out laughing. Varvara’s a sly bitch and can teach me a thing or two! he thought.

  TWELVE

  Peredonov went to evening service in the church used by the school. He stood behind the boys and carefully watched how they behaved. Some appeared to be misbehaving – jostling each other, laughing and whispering. He tried to make a mental note of the offenders, but there were so many of them and he cursed himself for not bringing paper and pencil with him. It saddened him to see them behaving so badly and that no one took any notice, although the headmaster and inspector were there with their wives and children.

  In reality, the boys were standing in a very orderly fashion. Some crossed themselves, their thoughts far away from religious matters, while others prayed diligently. Only rarely did a boy whisper to his neighbour – and then only a few quiet words spoken with a turn of the head, a quick sideways glance, a shrug of the shoulders, a smile which received a similar response. But these almost imperceptible movements and sounds that the monitors didn’t notice appeared to Peredonov’s diseased and troubled mind as nothing less than total disorder. Even when in a relatively calm state Peredonov, like all coarse people, saw everything out of proportion: he either completely misjudged things or exaggerated them to a fantastic degree. And, as now, when he was aroused by expectations and fears, his senses betrayed him and gradually the real world became obscured by a fog of vile, evil phantoms.

  And what had the boys ever meant to Peredonov? Weren’t they simply machines for pushing a pen over paper and repeating what had been said so many times before and so much better! Throughout his life as a teacher he had never so much as tried to understand them or consider that boys were of the same species as adults. Only those students who were beginning to grow beards and to show an interest in the opposite sex were his equals – as far as he was concerned.

  After he had stood at the back for a while, Peredonov moved forward to the middle rows, having absorbed enough of these depressing thoughts. At the end of one of them stood Sasha Pylnikov. He was humbly praying and making frequent genuflections. Peredonov was delighted to see him there, kneeling as if he’d been punished, looking anxiously, imploringly at the altar doors, his black eyes, with their long blue-black lashes, full of entreaty and sadness. Dark-skinned and shapely – this was particularly noticeable as he knelt there, calm and upright as if under someone’s strict surveillance, and with that broad, prominent chest – he appeared to Peredonov just like a girl.

  And now Peredonov finally made up his mind to visit him in his lodgings after the service.

  Soon everyone began to leave the church. People noticed that instead of his usual hat Peredonov was wearing a cap and badge. Rutilov laughed and asked, ‘What’s this, Ardalyon, showing off your badge now? I think someone’s after an inspectorship!’

  ‘Do soldiers have to salute you now?’ said Valeriya, pretending to be naïve.

  ‘Don’t try and make a fool of me!’ Peredonov retorted.

  ‘Don’t be so silly, Valeriya,’ Darya said. ‘What’s it to do with soldiers? He’s only wearing it to get more respect from his pupils.’

  Lyudmila burst out laughing. Peredonov made a hasty farewell to escape their taunts.

  It was too early to go and see Pylnikov and he had no desire to go home. He walked along the dark streets and wondered how to spend the next hour. Lights shone from many windows and now and then voices came from them. He could hear gates clicking and doors opening and closing as churchgoers returned. Everywhere there lived strange, hostile people. Perhaps at that very moment some were plotting against him. Perhaps some person thought it strange that he was alone at this late hour and wondered where he could be going. Peredonov thought someone was following him and stealthily creeping up on him. He was frightened and hur
ried on aimlessly.

  In every house he passed someone had died at some time, he thought. Everyone who had lived in those old houses fifty years ago was now dead. A few of them he could even remember. When there’s been a death, the house should be burned down, he wearily thought. It’s too frightening otherwise.

  Olga Kokovkina, with whom Pylnikov lodged, was a paymaster’s widow. She had been left a pension and a small house that was large enough for her to let three or four rooms at a time, but she preferred to take in boys from the school and she was always given the quietest boys who worked hard and finished their studies, not as in other houses where most of the students were the type who drifted from one school to another and thus ended up as ignoramuses.

  Olga Kokovkina, a tall, thin, upright old woman with an essentially good-natured face – although she always did her best to look strict – was sitting at the table drinking tea with Sasha Pylnikov, a well-fed boy who had been strictly brought up by his aunt.

  Today was Sasha’s turn to supply the jam, which he had bought in the country, and for this reason he felt that he was the host. His black eyes sparkled as he solemnly served Olga.

  Suddenly the bell rang and a moment later Peredonov appeared. Kokovkina was astonished at this late visit.

  ‘I thought I’d just drop in to see how the new boy is getting on,’ he said.

  Kokovkina offered Peredonov some tea but he refused. He wanted them to drink their tea as soon as possible, so that he could be alone with the boy. When they eventually finished they all went into Sasha’s room, but Kokovkina didn’t leave them and prattled incessantly. Peredonov looked mournfully at Sasha, who, out of shyness, didn’t say a word. I’m wasting my time here, thought Peredonov, highly annoyed.

  Fortunately the maid called Kokovkina out for some reason, so Peredonov had his chance. Sasha watched her go and felt dejected. His eyes grew dim and his exceptionally long lashes seemed to cast a shadow over his whole dark-skinned face, which had suddenly turned pale. He felt uneasy in the presence of this sinister man. Peredonov sat down beside him, put his arm clumsily around his waist and with his perpetual blank expression asked, ‘Well, Sasha, have you said your prayers nicely?’

  Sasha looked at him in terror, blushed, but said nothing.

  ‘Well? Did you say them properly?’

  ‘Yes I did,’ Sasha said at last.

  ‘Such rosy cheeks! Confess now, you’re a girl, aren’t you? Oh yes, you little devil!’

  ‘No I’m not,’ protested Sasha and suddenly, angry with himself for being so shy, asked in a shrill voice, ‘What makes you think I’m a girl? Just because I don’t like filthy words I get teased by the other boys. I’ve never used them, so why should I repeat them if I don’t want to? Why should I use filthy words?’

  ‘Would Mummy punish you?’

  ‘My mother died a long time ago. My aunt looks after me.’

  ‘Would Auntie punish you then?’

  ‘Of course she would if I repeated filthy words. And she’d be quite right.’

  ‘And how would Auntie find out?’

  ‘Firstly, I don’t use such words. And if I did she’d find out one way or the other,’ Sasha calmly replied. ‘I might give myself away.’

  ‘Which of your friends are responsible for these obscenities?’

  Sasha blushed again and was silent.

  ‘Come on now, you’ve got to tell me,’ Peredonov insisted. ‘It’s no good hiding things from me.’

  ‘No one says anything of the sort,’ Sasha replied, now thoroughly confused.

  ‘But you just said they did.’

  ‘I didn’t.’

  ‘Why do you deny it?’ Peredonov asked angrily.

  Sasha realized that he had been hopelessly trapped and said, ‘All I meant was that some of the boys tease me for being like a girl. But I wouldn’t tell tales on them!’

  ‘You don’t say! And why not?’ Peredonov spitefully asked.

  ‘It’s not very nice,’ Sasha replied with an indignant grin.

  ‘I shall go and tell the headmaster. Then you’ll be forced to tell the truth,’ Peredonov gloated.

  Sasha looked furiously at Peredonov. ‘Please don’t tell him, Mr Peredonov,’ he begged.

  And one could tell from his breaking voice that he was forcing himself to plead with Peredonov when he would have far preferred to shout insolent, threatening words at him.

  ‘No, I must tell him. Then you’ll see if it pays to hide filth. You should have complained from the start. Now you’re really in for it.’

  Sasha stood up and in his confusion fumbled with his belt. Kokovkina entered.

  ‘You have every right to be proud of your little prig,’ Peredonov said maliciously.

  Kokovkina was frightened. She stumbled over to Sasha (her legs always seemed to give way when she was excited), sat beside him and asked with sinking heart, ‘What do you mean, Mr Peredonov?’ she asked. ‘What’s he done?’

  ‘Ask him,’ Peredonov replied with a grim smile.

  ‘Well, what have you done wrong?’ asked Kokovkina, touching Sasha’s elbow.

  ‘I don’t know,’ Sasha said and burst into tears.

  ‘Then why are you crying?’ she asked. She placed her hands on his shoulders and drew him towards her, not noticing that this only embarrassed him. He just stood there, stooping, and holding a handkerchief over his face.

  Peredonov explained, ‘Someone at school is teaching him dirty words and he won’t say who it is. He’s only too willing to learn and wants to cover up for the others.’

  ‘Sasha! How could you! It’s not possible! Aren’t you ashamed of yourself?’ Kokovkina said in dismay, letting go of him.

  ‘I’ve done nothing wrong,’ Sasha sobbed. ‘They tease me because I don’t know any rude words.’

  ‘Who is using them?’ asked Peredonov.

  ‘No one,’ answered Sasha in desperation.

  ‘It’s obvious the boy’s lying,’ said Peredonov. ‘He needs a good beating. He must tell us who the culprits are or the school will get a bad name and we shall be powerless to do anything about it.’

  ‘You must forgive him, Mr Peredonov!’ Kokovkina said. ‘How can he tell on his schoolmates? His life wouldn’t be worth living if he did.’

  ‘It’s his duty to tell,’ Peredonov angrily said. ‘Only good can come of it. Then we can decide how to punish them.’

  ‘But they’ll beat him up, won’t they?’ said Kokovkina querulously.

  ‘They wouldn’t dare. If he’s scared he can tell us in secret.’

  ‘Tell him, Sasha, we’ll keep it a secret. No one will know it was you.’

  Sasha wept silently. Kokovkina drew him to her again, put her arm around his waist and whispered in his ear for some time. He kept shaking his head negatively.

  ‘He doesn’t want to,’ said Kokovkina.

  ‘A good birching will loosen his tongue,’ Peredonov said savagely. ‘Bring me some rods, I’ll make him talk.’

  ‘But why, Mrs Kokovkina?’ Sasha exclaimed. ‘What for?’

  Kokovkina got up and embraced him once more. ‘Now that’s enough howling,’ she said tenderly but sternly. ‘No one’s going to lay a finger on you.’

  ‘As you like,’ Peredonov said, ‘but I shall tell the headmaster all the same. I thought it might be easier for him if we had it out at home, but I think Sasha knows more than he’s prepared to tell. We still don’t know why he’s teased for being a girl. Perhaps it’s for something quite different. Perhaps he’s not the one who’s being taught – perhaps he’s corrupting the others!’

  Peredonov stormed out of the room, followed by Kokovkina, who then gave him a taste of her tongue.

  ‘Mr Peredonov! How dare you come here and attack an innocent little boy for heaven knows what! It’s just as well he doesn’t really understand what you’re talking about.’

  ‘Goodbye,’ Peredonov replied furiously. ‘I shall tell the headmaster as soon as I see him. This matter must be investigated.’


  He left abruptly and Kokovkina went to console Sasha, who was sitting sadly by the window, looking at the starry sky. His black eyes were calm now and melancholy. Kokovkina silently stroked his head.

  ‘It’s all my fault,’ he said. ‘I let slip why they’re teasing me and after that he wouldn’t leave me alone. He’s a terribly coarse man. None of the boys likes him.’

  Next day Peredonov and Varvara finally moved to their new flat. Yershova stood by the gate and she and Varvara swore violently at each other. Peredonov hid behind one of the removal carts.

  As soon as they had moved in a blessing was said. Peredonov thought it was essential to show everybody that he was a true believer. During the ceremony the smell of incense drugged him into something akin to religious fervour. One strange circumstance, however, disturbed him. From somewhere a peculiar, dimly outlined creature darted out – a small, spritely grey demon. It laughed and quivered and bustled around Peredonov, and whenever he stretched out his hand to catch it, it slipped swiftly away and hid behind the door or under the cupboard, only to reappear a moment later, still quivering and mocking.

  When the service was drawing to a close Peredonov guessed what it was and whispered a magic charm. The little demon hissed very softly, shrivelled into a tiny ball and rolled away behind the door. Peredonov heaved a sigh of relief. Yes! I hope it’s rolled away for good. Perhaps it lives in this house, somewhere under the floorboards, just waiting to come out and tease me. A chill ran over him; he felt depressed. Why are there all these evil spirits in the world? Peredonov forlornly asked himself.

  When the service was over and all the guests had departed, Peredonov pondered a long time about where the demon could have hidden itself. Varvara went to see Grushina, which gave him the chance of searching through her things. I wonder if Varvara took it away with her in her pocket? It can’t need much room: it could easily hide there until it feels like coming out again! Then his attention was caught by one of Varvara’s dresses. It was all flounces, ribbons and bows, and seemed expressly designed to conceal someone. He examined it for a long time and then, partly with his hands and partly with a knife, he tore off the pocket and threw it into the stove. Then he ripped and cut the rest of the dress into small pieces. Strange, confused thoughts filled his mind. His heart was full of hopeless anguish. Varvara soon returned and found Peredonov still cutting up what was left of the dress. She thought he was drunk and swore wildly. Peredonov let her go on and on and then he said, ‘What are you snapping at me for, you stupid woman? Don’t you realize there might be a devil in your pocket? Am I the one who always has to look after things here?’