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

Misha for a moment unexpectedly felt touched and tears came into his eyes. He lowered his handkerchief and looked angrily at his sister.

“The youngster might suddenly get into a fit,” thought Peredonov, “and begin to bite; human spit, they say, is poisonous.”

He moved closer to Volodin, so that in case of danger he could hide behind him. Nadezhda said to her brother:

“Pavel Vassilyevitch asks for my hand.”

“Hand and heart,” corrected Peredonov.

“And heart,” added Volodin modestly but with dignity.

Misha covered his face with his handkerchief and choking with suppressed laughter said:

“No, don’t marry him. What would become of me?”

Volodin, hurt but agitated, said in a trembling voice:

“I’m surprised, Nadezhda Vassilyevna, that you are asking your brother, who is besides quite a child. Even if he were a grownup young man you might speak for yourself. But at your asking him now, Nadezhda Vassilyevna, I am not only surprised but shocked.”

“To ask little boys seems ridiculous to me,” said Peredonov gravely.

“Whom have I to ask? It’s all the same to my aunt, and as I’m responsible for his upbringing how can I marry you. Perhaps you would treat him harshly. Isn’t it so, Mishka, that you’re afraid of his harshness?”

“No, Nadya,” said Misha, looking out with one eye from behind his handkerchief. “I’m not afraid of his harshness. Why should I? But I am afraid that Pavel Vassilyevitch would spoil me and not allow you to put me in the corner.”

“Believe me, Nadezhda Vassilyevna,” said Volodin, pressing his hands to his heart, “I won’t spoil Mishenka. I always think: ‘Why should a boy be spoiled?’ He’s well fed, well dressed, well shod, as for spoiling⁠—no! I too can put him into the corner and not spoil him at all. I can do even more. As you’re a girl, that is, a young lady, it’s a little inconvenient to you, but I could easily birch him.”

“He’s not only going to put me into a corner,” said Misha whimpering, having again covered his face with his handkerchief, “but he’ll even birch me! No, that doesn’t suit me. No, Nadya, don’t you dare to marry him.”

“Well, do you hear? I decidedly can’t,” said Nadezhda.

“It seems very strange to me, Nadezhda Vassilyevna, that you’re acting in this way,” said Volodin. “I come to you with all my affections and one might even say with fiery feelings, and you give your brother as an excuse. If you now give your brother as an excuse, another might give her sister, a third her nephew, or perhaps some other relative, and so no one would marry⁠—so that the whole human race would come to an end.”

“Don’t worry about that, Pavel Vassilyevitch,” said Nadezhda, “the world is not threatened yet by such a possibility. I don’t want to marry without Misha’s consent, and he, as you have heard, is not willing. Besides, as it’s clear that you have promised to beat him straight away, you might also beat me.”

“Please, Nadezhda Vassilyevna, surely you don’t think that I would permit myself such a disgraceful action,” exclaimed Volodin desperately.

Nadezhda smiled.

“And I myself have no desire to marry,” she said.

“Perhaps you think of entering a nunnery?” asked Volodin in an offended voice.

“More likely you’ll join the Tolstoyan sect,” corrected Peredonov, “and manure the fields.”

“Why should I go anywhere?” asked Nadezhda coldly, as she rose from her seat. “I’m perfectly well off here.”

Volodin rose also, protruded his lips in a hurt way and said:

“Since Mishenka feels this way towards me and you are on his side, then I suppose I’d better stop the lessons, for how can I go to the lessons if Mishenka behaves towards me in this way?”

“Why not?” asked Nadezhda. “That’s quite another affair.”

Peredonov thought he ought to make yet another effort to prevail upon the young woman: perhaps she would consent.

He said to her gloomily:

“You’d better think it over well, Nadezhda Vassilyevna⁠—why should you do it post-haste? He’s a good man. He’s my friend.”

“No,” said Nadezhda. “What is there to think about? I thank Pavel Vassilyevitch very much for the honour, but I really can’t.”

Peredonov looked angrily at Volodin and rose. He thought that Volodin was a fool, he couldn’t make the young woman fall in love with him.

Volodin stood beside his chair with lowered head. He asked reproachfully:

“So that means it’s all over, Nadezhda Vassilyevna? Ah! If so,” said he waving his hand, “then may God be good to you, Nadezhda Vassilyevna. It means that is my miserable fate. Ah! A youth loved a maiden and she did not love him. God sees all! Ah, well, I’ll grieve and that’s all.”

“You’re rejecting a good man and you don’t know what sort you may get,” persisted Peredonov.

“Ah!” exclaimed Volodin once more and turned to the door.

But suddenly he decided to be magnanimous and returned to shake hands with the young woman and even with the juvenile offender Misha.

In the street Peredonov grumbled angrily. All the way Volodin complained bleatingly in an offended voice.

“Why did you give up your lessons?” growled Peredonov. “You must be a rich man!”

“Ardalyon Borisitch, I only said that if this is so I ought to give them up, and she said to me that I needn’t give them up, and as I replied nothing then it follows that she begged me to continue. And now it all depends upon me⁠—if I like, I’ll refuse; if I like, I’ll continue them.”

“Why should you refuse?” said Peredonov. “Keep on going as if nothing had happened.”

“Let him at least get something out of this⁠—he’ll have less cause for envy,” thought Peredonov.

Peredonov felt terribly depressed. Volodin was not yet settled. “If I don’t keep a lookout on him he may begin plotting with Varvara. Besides, it’s possible that Adamenko will have a grudge against me for trying to marry her to Volodin. She has relatives in Peterburg; she might write to them and hurt my chances.”

The weather was unpleasant. The sky was cloudy; the crows flew about cawing. They cawed above Peredonov’s head, as if they