The Little Demon

by Fyodor Sologub

  All night long Lyudmila had such torrid, erotic dreams! First she dreamed that she was lying in a hot, stuffy room. The bedclothes slid down to the floor, revealing her burning body. A scaly-ringed snake glided up to her and twined itself around her as if it were climbing a tree, slithering up the branches of her beautiful naked body. Then she was lying by a lake on a hot summer’s evening with threatening storm clouds overhead. She was naked, with a bright golden garland on her brow. There was a smell of warm stagnant water, of scorched grass. Over the dark, menacingly calm lake glided a majestic, powerful swan, violently beating the water with its wings and hissing loudly as it approached the bank to embrace her. Everything became dark and terrifying. Both the snake and the swan had Sasha’s face, deathly pale, with dark, strangely melancholy eyes with blue-black lashes that drooped heavily, frighteningly, as if they were jealous of those eyes and were seeking to conceal their enchanting gaze.

  Then Lyudmila dreamed of a magnificent palace, built with massive low arches. It was full of beautiful strong naked boys – and the most beautiful was Sasha. She was seated on a throne and was watching the naked boys whip each other. They laid Sasha on the floor, his head towards Lyudmila, and beat him. He laughed and cried and she laughed too, as one laughs only in dreams, when the heart suddenly beats faster – a laugh that is long-drawn-out, irrepressible, the laugh of oblivion and death …

  Next morning, when she woke up, Lyudmila felt that she had fallen passionately in love with Sasha and was tormented by the desire to see him again. But it vexed her to think that she could only see him dressed! How stupid that schoolboys didn’t go around naked! Or at least with bare feet, like the street urchins she loved to watch in summer because they wore no shoes or socks and sometimes bared their legs high. As if it were shameful to have a body! she thought. So shameful, that even street urchins hide it.

  FIFTEEN

  Volodin went regularly to the Adamenkos’ to give Misha his lessons. His hopes that the young mistress of the house would give him coffee every time he went were sadly disappointed. Whenever he entered the house he was taken straight to the small room that had been set aside as a workshop. Misha would usually be standing by the carpenter’s bench in his grey overalls, with everything ready for the lesson. He did all he was told cheerfully, but without much enthusiasm. In order to get away with as little work as possible, he would try to draw Volodin into conversation, but Volodin was far too conscientious to allow himself to be sidetracked in this way. He would say, ‘Mishenka, let’s work for about two hours and then, if you feel like it, we can have a little chat. But not now. Work comes first!’

  Misha would softly sigh and set about his task, but by the time the lesson was over he never felt like talking, saying he’d been given so much work. Sometimes Nadezhda would put in an appearance to see how Misha was getting on. Misha noticed that when this happened Volodin was a little more eager to talk and he took advantage of this. However, as soon as Nadezhda saw that he was idling around she would immediately tell him, ‘Misha, don’t be so lazy!’ And as she left she would tell Volodin, ‘Forgive me for interrupting, but that brother of mine will just laze around if you let him.’

  Volodin was at first embarrassed by these interruptions. First he concluded that she didn’t serve coffee in case it gave rise to malicious gossip. Then he thought that there really was no reason for her to come in while he was taking a lesson. But come she did. Could it be because she found it pleasant seeing him? And hadn’t she agreed from the beginning that he was to give the lessons, without even stopping to consider the fees? And he interpreted every fact in his favour – and Peredonov and Varvara encouraged this line of thought.

  ‘It’s obvious she’s in love with you,’ said Peredonov.

  ‘What better husband could she hope to find?’ added Varvara.

  Volodin tried to look modest and was delighted at his success. On one occasion Peredonov told him, ‘A fiancé doesn’t go around in a scruffy tie like that!’

  ‘I’m not courting yet, Ardalyon,’ Volodin replied soberly, trembling with joy nevertheless. ‘Anyway, I can easily buy a new one.’

  ‘Get one with a bright pattern,’ advised Peredonov, ‘so she can see that you’re burning with passion.’

  ‘A red one – and the fancier the better,’ Varvara said. ‘And with a tie-pin too. You can buy one with a stone for next to nothing – that really would look smart!’

  Peredonov thought that Volodin probably didn’t have the money. Or that he might try to economize by buying a cheap black tie. That would never do, thought Peredonov. Miss Adamenko is a society lady. He can’t possibly go and propose in any old tie. She might be offended and refuse him.

  So Peredonov told Volodin, ‘Why buy a cheap one, Pavlusha? You’ve won enough from me for a tie. By the way, how much do I owe you? One rouble forty?’

  ‘You’re right about the forty copecks,’ Volodin sniggered. ‘Only it’s not one rouble but two, I’m afraid.’

  Peredonov knew very well that he owed him two roubles, but it would have been far more agreeable to pay him only one. ‘You’re lying,’ he growled. ‘How do you make it two roubles?’

  ‘Varvara is my witness,’ Volodin assured him.

  Varvara smirked and said, ‘You’d better pay up, Ardalyon, if you lost. I remember quite clearly that it was two roubles forty.’

  Peredonov thought that since Varvara was standing up for Volodin she was going over to his side. He scowled, took the money from his purse and said, ‘All right then, if you want your two roubles forty. It won’t ruin me, I don’t suppose. You’re a poor man, Pavlusha, so here you are, take it.’

  Volodin took the money, counted it and then, with an injured look, lowered his sharp forehead, puffed out his lower lip and bleated in his high-pitched voice, ‘Since you owe me the money it’s your duty to pay up, but the fact that I’m poor is neither here nor there. I’m not asking for charity from anyone. At least I have butter on my bread – not like some poor devils I wouldn’t care to mention.’

  He felt quite comforted, bleated for joy at having replied so brilliantly, twisted his lips and started laughing.

  Finally Peredonov and Volodin decided to go and arrange the match. They wore their best suits and looked more solemn and stupid than usual. Peredonov sported a white tie, while Volodin wore a bright red one with green stripes.

  Peredonov reasoned thus: ‘As I’m the matchmaker, my role is a sober one. Therefore I should wear a white tie. You, the suitor, must show the passion that is burning within!’

  With great decorum and dignity they sat themselves down in the drawing-room, Peredonov on the divan and Volodin in the armchair. Nadezhda looked at her guests in amazement. They chatted about the weather and the latest news with the air of two visitors who had come to discuss some very delicate matter but just didn’t know how to set about it. Finally Peredonov cleared his throat and said, ‘We’ve come on important business, Miss Adamenko.’

  ‘Yes, important business,’ Volodin repeated, assuming a significant look as he stuck out his lips.

  ‘It’s to do with him,’ said Peredonov as he pointed his thumb at Volodin.

  ‘It’s to do with me,’ confirmed Volodin, pointing his thumb at his chest.

  Nadezhda smiled. ‘Do go on,’ she said.

  ‘I’m going to speak for him, as he’s very shy and can’t do it himself. He’s a kind, worthy man. Never touches a drop. It’s true he doesn’t earn very much, but to hell with that! People need different things. Some need money, others a man. Well, why don’t you say something?’ he said, turning to Volodin.

  Volodin leaned forward and said in a trembling voice, just like a sheep bleating, ‘Of course, I don’t earn a great deal, but I’ll always have a crust to eat. So what if I didn’t go to university? I get by. There’s nothing I regret having done. So you see, I have a lot to be thankful for.’ He spread out his arms, lowered his head as if preparing to butt and lapsed into silence.

  ‘As you can see,’
Peredonov said, ‘he’s a young man, and a bachelor’s life is no good for him. It’s time he was married – a married man’s life is so much better.’

  ‘All the better if the lady feels the same,’ Volodin declared.

  ‘And as you’re a spinster it’s time you got married,’ Peredonov continued.

  A faint rustling could be heard from behind the door, accompanied by brief stifled sounds as if someone were sighing or softly laughing. Nadezhda looked sternly in the direction of the door and said coldly, ‘You’re too solicitous about me, I assure you,’ irritably stressing the ‘too’.

  ‘You don’t need a rich husband,’ said Peredonov, ‘since you’re rich yourself. You need someone to love and please you in every respect. And you know who I mean. He is not indifferent towards you and maybe you feel the same about him. I have the buyer, you might say, and you have the goods. I mean to say, you are the goods.’

  Nadezhda blushed and bit her lip to stop herself laughing. The same curious sounds continued from behind the door. Volodin stared at the carpet in blissful humility: he was sure everything was going perfectly.

  ‘What goods?’ Nadezhda asked cautiously. ‘Do forgive me, but I don’t understand.’

  ‘Why don’t you understand?’ Peredonov said in disbelief. ‘I’ll tell you then, quite straight. Pavel Volodin is asking for your hand and heart, and I’m asking on his behalf.’

  Something collapsed on to the floor behind the door and rolled around, snorting and panting. Her face flushed with stifled laughter, Nadezhda looked at her guests. Volodin’s proposal struck her as a ludicrous impertinence.

  ‘Yes, I’m asking for your hand and heart, Miss Adamenko,’ Volodin said. He blushed, stood up, scraped one foot heavily on the carpet, bowed and quickly sat down again. Then he stood up, put his hand to his heart, looked fondly at Nadezhda and said, ‘Miss Adamenko, allow me to declare my feelings! Since I love you very much, surely you will reciprocate?’ He rushed forward, fell on one knee and kissed her hand. ‘Nadezhda! Believe me, I swear eternal love!’ He raised his arm and brought it down so violently on his chest that the whole place echoed with a deep rumbling.

  ‘Please get up! What are you thinking of?’ Nadezhda said, deeply embarrassed.

  Volodin stood up and returned to his seat with a hurt look. Once there he pressed both hands to his heart and exclaimed, ‘You must believe me! I shall love you until the day I die!’

  ‘I’m very sorry, but it’s quite impossible for me to marry you,’ said Nadezhda. ‘I have a young brother to bring up. Can’t you hear him crying behind the door?’

  ‘A brother to bring up!’ Volodin said and stuck out his lips. ‘I’ve never heard such an excuse!’

  ‘All the same, it concerns him as much as myself,’ Nadezhda said, hurriedly getting up. ‘I must ask him. Will you wait a moment?’ She swiftly left the room, her bright yellow dress rustling. Outside she grasped Misha’s shoulders, ran with him to the door of his room where she stood for a while, hardly able to speak for laughter and lack of breath. ‘I suppose it’s quite useless asking if you’ve been listening!’

  Misha threw his arms around her waist and leaned his head against her, convulsed with laughter and the effort of controlling it. Nadezhda pushed him into his room, sat on a chair by the door and burst out laughing. ‘You heard what that Volodin said. Now come back into the drawing-room with me and don’t you dare laugh. And when I ask your consent – don’t you dare give it! Understand?’

  ‘O-o-oooh!’ cried Misha and stuffed his handkerchief into his mouth to stifle his laughter, but it didn’t help very much.

  ‘Cover your face if you think you’re going to laugh,’ advised Nadezhda as she took him by the shoulders back into the drawing-room. She made him sit down in an armchair, pulled up a chair for herself and sat beside him. Volodin seemed offended and lowered his head like a young ram.

  ‘Just look how he’s been crying,’ Nadezhda said, pointing to her brother. ‘I’m like a mother to him and he suddenly thinks I’m going to leave him.’

  Misha covered his face with his handkerchief. His whole body was shaking and he whined in an effort to stop laughing. ‘Ooooh!’

  Nadezhda embraced him and, unseen by the others, gave him a sharp pinch and said, ‘Don’t cry, darling, don’t cry.’

  Misha was suddenly in such agony that his eyes filled with tears. He dropped the handkerchief and glared at his sister.

  He might suddenly lose his temper, thought Peredonov, and start biting. They say human saliva is poisonous. He went over to Volodin so that he could hide behind him if need be.

  Nadezhda told her brother, ‘Mr Volodin’s asking for my hand.’

  ‘Hand and heart,’ corrected Peredonov.

  ‘And heart,’ Volodin said humbly, but with dignity.

  Misha covered his face again and almost choked with suppressed laughter. ‘No, you mustn’t marry him,’ he said. ‘What would become of me?’

  Volodin then said in a voice shaking with indignation and emotion, ‘I’m very surprised, Miss Adamenko, that you find it necessary to ask your brother, a mere boy. Even if he were an adult it seems quite ridiculous to me that you can’t decide for yourself and have to ask his permission. To see you doing this not only surprises but shocks me.’

  ‘Yes, it’s really quite funny, asking a little boy,’ Peredonov said glumly.

  ‘Who should I ask, then? My aunt doesn’t care and as I have to educate Misha how can I possibly marry you? Anyway, you might treat him roughly. Isn’t that so, Misha? Aren’t you scared that he might be cruel to you?’

  ‘No,’ said Misha, peeping out from under his handkerchief with one eye. ‘I’m not scared he might be cruel. Why should he treat me roughly? No, I’m scared Mr Volodin might spoil me and not allow you to put me in the corner.’

  ‘Believe me, Miss Adamenko,’ began Volodin, holding his hand to his heart, ‘I would never spoil Misha. Why should I? As long as he’s well fed, has good clothes, that’s all that matters. Besides, I could easily make him stand in the corner if I wanted to. But spoil him – never! And there’s more I could do. As you’re a spinster – I mean, young lady – and as it would probably be more convenient for you, I could take care of the thrashing!’

  ‘He’ll make us both stand in the corner,’ wailed Misha as he covered his face again. ‘And birch me as well! No, Nadya, don’t you dare marry him.’

  ‘Well, you’ve heard what he said. It’s out of the question.’

  ‘I really cannot understand your attitude, Miss Adamenko,’ Volodin said. ‘I come here and declare my ardent feelings, most ardent, may I say, and you are swayed by the word of a brother. If you’re refusing because of a brother, then another might refuse because of her sister or nephew or some other relative. And then no one would marry and the entire human race would come to an end.’

  ‘I shouldn’t worry about that, Mr Volodin,’ Nadezhda said. ‘The world isn’t threatened by that just yet. All the same, I don’t intend marrying without Misha’s consent and, as you have heard, he is against the marriage. And that I can understand, since you promised from the start that you would thrash him. What’s more, you might include me.’

  ‘Really, Miss Adamenko! Surely you don’t think that I could be guilty of such base conduct?’ Volodin said in desperation.

  Nadezhda smiled. ‘Well, I myself don’t feel like marrying at the moment.’

  ‘Perhaps you wish to go into a nunnery?’ Volodin said in a hurt voice.

  ‘Or to join the Tolstoyans and manure the fields?’ suggested Peredonov.

  ‘I’m quite happy where I am, thank you,’ Nadezhda said icily, rising from her seat. ‘There’s no reason why I should go anywhere.’

  Volodin also stood up, puffed out his lips in an offended manner and said, ‘Since Misha feels as he does towards me I must give up teaching him. How can I give him lessons in these circumstances?’

  ‘But why not?’ Nadezhda retorted. ‘This has nothing to do with the lessons.’ />
  Peredonov thought that there was still a chance of persuading her and said in a tomb-like voice, ‘You should really think it over very carefully, Miss Adamenko. He’s a good man. What’s more, he’s a friend of mine.’

  ‘No,’ Nadezhda said, ‘there’s nothing to think over. I’m very grateful for the honour, but I cannot accept.’

  Peredonov glared at Volodin and stood up. Volodin was a complete idiot, he thought. Fancy not being able to make that young lady fall in love with him!

  Volodin stood by his armchair, his head bowed. ‘Well, if that’s your final decision, Miss Adamenko, there’s no more to be said,’ he said disdainfully. ‘May God grant you every happiness,’ he added, waving his hand. ‘Oh, such is my wretched lot! A lad once loved a lass, but she didn’t love him. God sees all! I’ll go and have a good cry – and that’s that.’

  ‘You don’t know what a good man you’re turning down – you won’t find another like him in a hurry!’ Peredonov said in a didactic tone.

  ‘Ah!’ sighed Volodin again as he made for the door. But suddenly he changed his mind and came back to shake Nadezhda’s hand, and even Misha’s, to show how magnanimous he could be.

  Out in the street Peredonov spluttered with rage. Volodin kept grumbling and arguing in his bleating voice the whole way.

  ‘Why did you give up the lessons?’ Peredonov growled. ‘You don’t need the money – is that it?’

  ‘All I said was that if that’s how she felt, then I must give up the lessons. But as she didn’t say that I should give them up, and as I didn’t reply, this meant that she wanted to carry on with them. So, it’s up to me. If I want to, I’ll refuse. And if I want to, I’ll carry on.’

  ‘Why give up the lessons?’ Peredonov said. ‘Just carry on as if nothing had happened.’ Let him get something out of it, Peredonov thought, then he’ll have less reason to envy me.

  Peredonov felt upset and worried. Volodin still wasn’t settled with a wife so he’d better watch out in case he started something with Varvara. What was more, Miss Adamenko might be furious with him for bringing Volodin to propose to her. She had relatives in St Petersburg – if she wrote she could do him a lot of harm. She only had to pick up a pen …