The Little Demon, Fyodor Sologub [reading the story of the TXT] 📗

think about it and see what’s going on here.”

Varvara was taken aback. Gratified by the impression he had produced, he made haste to find his cap and went out to play billiards. Varvara ran out into the passage and while Peredonov was putting on his overcoat she shouted:

“It’s you, perhaps, who’re carrying the devil in your pocket, but I haven’t got any kind of devil. Where should I get your devil? Shall I order one for you from Holland?”

The young official, Cherepnin, the man about whom Vershina had told the story of his looking into the window, had paid attentions to her when she first became a widow. Vershina did not object to marrying a second time but Cherepnin seemed to her utterly worthless. Therefore he felt maliciously towards her.

With great delight he fell in with Volodin’s suggestion of smearing Vershina’s gate with tar.

He agreed, but later he felt some qualms. Suppose they should catch him? It would be awkward; after all he was an official. He decided to shift the matter on to other shoulders. He bribed two young scapegraces with a quarter of a rouble and promised them another fifteen kopecks each if they would get it done⁠—if they would do it one dark night.

If anyone in Vershina’s house had opened the window after midnight he might have heard the rustle of light feet on the wood pavement, a quiet whispering and certain soft sounds giving the impression that the fence was being swept; then a slight clinking, a fast pattering of feet, going faster and faster, distant laughing and the angry barking of dogs.

But no one opened the window. And in the morning⁠ ⁠… the gate and the fence between the garden and the yard were covered with yellow-cinnamon coloured tar. Indecent words were written in tar on the gates. Passersby stopped and laughed. The word soon went round and many inquisitive people came.

Vershina walked about quickly in the garden and smoked; her smile was even more wry than usual and she mumbled angrily. Marta did not leave her room and wept bitterly. The maidservant Marya tried to wash off the tar and some words of abuse passed between her and the onlookers, who were laughing uproariously. That same day Cherepnin told Volodin what he had done. Volodin wasted no time in telling Peredonov. Both of them knew the boys, who were well-known for their daring pranks.

Peredonov on his way to billiards stopped at Vershina’s. The weather was gloomy, so Vershina and Marta sat in the drawing-room.

“Your gates have been smeared with tar,” said Peredonov.

Marta blushed. Vershina quickly related how they had got up in the morning and saw people laughing at the gate and how Marya had washed the fence.

“I know who did it,” said Peredonov.

Vershina looked questioningly at Peredonov.

“How did you find out?” she asked.

“I found out all right.”

“Tell us then who did it,” said Marta crossly.

She had become altogether unattractive because she now had tear-stained eyes with red swollen eyelids. Peredonov replied:

“Of course I’ll tell you⁠—I’ve come for that reason. Such impertinent fellows ought to be punished. But you must promise not to say who told you.”

“But why, Ardalyon Borisitch?” asked Vershina in astonishment.

Peredonov kept significantly silent. Then he said in explanation:

“They’re such daredevils that they might break my head if they found I’d given them away.”

Vershina promised.

“And don’t you tell either,” said Peredonov to Marta.

“Very well, I won’t tell,” Marta agreed quickly because she wanted to know as quickly as possible who had done it.

She thought they ought to be made to suffer a cruel and ignominious punishment.

“No, you’d better swear,” said Peredonov cautiously.

“Well, honest to God, I won’t tell anyone,” said Marta, trying to convince him. “But tell us quickly.”

Vladya was listening behind the door. He was glad that he had not thought of going into the drawing-room: he would not be compelled to promise and he could tell it to anyone he liked. And he smiled with delight to think that he would be avenged on Peredonov.

“Last night, about one o’clock, I was going home along your street,” began Peredonov, “and I heard someone moving by your gate. I thought at first it was thieves. ‘What shall I do?’ I thought, when suddenly I heard them running straight towards me. I pressed close against the wall and they didn’t see me, but I recognised them. One had a brush and the other had a pail. They’re well-known rascals, the sons of Avdeyev, the blacksmith. They ran, and I heard one say to the other: ‘We haven’t wasted the night,’ he said, ‘we’ve earned fifty-five kopecks.’ I wanted to catch one of them but I was afraid they would smear my face, and besides I had a new overcoat on.”

No sooner had Peredonov gone than Vershina went to the Commissioner of Police with a complaint. The Commissioner, Minchukov, sent a constable for Avdeyev and his sons.

The boys came boldly, thinking they were suspected on account of previous pranks. Avdeyev, a tall dejected old man, was, on the other hand, fully convinced that his sons were guilty of some fresh mischief. The Commissioner told Avdeyev of what his sons were accused, and Avdeyev replied:

“I can’t control them. Do what you like with them. I’ve already hurt my hands beating them.”

“It’s not our doing,” announced the elder boy Nil, who had curly red hair.

“No matter who does a thing we’re blamed for it,” said Ilya the younger, whose hair was also curly but white. “We’ve once done something and now we have to answer for everything.”

Minchukov smiled amiably, shook his head and said:

“You’d better make a clean breast of it.”

“There’s nothing to confess,” said Nil.

“Nothing? Who gave you fifty-five kopecks for your work, eh?”

And seeing from the boys’ momentary confusion that they were guilty, Minchukov said to Vershina:

“It’s obvious that they did it.”

The boys renewed their denials. They were taken into a small room and whipped. Not being able to endure the pain, they confessed. But even then they were unwilling to say who had