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

teasing voice. “Look on the bottle and you’ll see.”

Sasha looked at the label and said:

“It smells of oil of roses.”

“Oil!” she said reproachfully, and struck Sasha lightly on the shoulder.

Sasha laughed, gave a slight scream and thrust out his tongue, curving it in the shape of a tube. Liudmilla rose, and began to turn over Sasha’s school books.

“May I look?” she asked.

“Of course,” said Sasha.

“Where are your ones and your noughts? Show me.”

“I haven’t yet had any such thing,” said Sasha with an injured look.

“No, you’re fibbing,” asserted Liudmilla. “I’m sure you get noughts. You must have hidden them.”

Sasha smiled.

“I’m sure you’re bored with Latin and Greek,” said Liudmilla.

“No,” answered Sasha, but it was evident that the mere conversation about schoolbooks would bring upon him their habitual tediousness. “It is a little boring to learn mechanically,” he admitted. “But I have a good memory. I only like solving problems⁠—that I like.”

“Come to me tomorrow after lunch,” said Liudmilla.

“Thank you, I will,” said Sasha blushing.

He felt very happy that Liudmilla had invited him. Liudmilla asked:

“Do you know where I live? Will you come there?”

“Yes, I know. I’ll come there,” said Sasha happily.

“Now, be sure to come,” repeated Liudmilla sternly. “I’ll wait for you, do you hear!”

“But suppose I should have a lot of lessons?” asked Sasha, more from scruple than from any idea that he would not come because of his lessons.

“That’s all nonsense. You must come,” insisted Liudmilla. “They won’t give you a nought.”

“But why?” asked Sasha laughingly.

“Because you’ve got to come. Come, for I’ve something to tell you and something to show you,” said Liudmilla dancing about and humming a song, and lifting her skirt as she did so, and playfully sticking out her pink little fingers.

“Come to me, sweet one, sober one, golden one,” she sang.

Sasha began to laugh.

“You’d better tell me today,” he entreated.

“I mustn’t today. And how can I tell you today? You won’t come tomorrow if I do. You’ll say there’s nothing to come for.”

“Very well, I’ll come without fail, if they’ll let me.”

“Of course they’ll let you. No one’s holding you on a chain.”

When she said goodbye, Liudmilla kissed Sasha’s forehead, and put her hand to his lips⁠—he had to kiss it. And Sasha was happy to kiss again her white, gentle hand⁠—and a little shy. And why not? But Liudmilla, as she left, smiled archly and tenderly. And she looked back several times.

“How charming she is,” thought Sasha. He was left alone.

“How soon she left,” he thought. “She suddenly went and it’s hard to realise that she’s gone. She might have stayed a little longer.” And he felt ashamed that he had not offered to escort her. “It wouldn’t have been a bad idea to walk along with her,” he thought. “Shall I run after her? Has she gone far, I wonder. Perhaps if I run fast I might overtake her.”

“But perhaps she would laugh,” he continued to himself. “And besides she might not like it.”

And so he could not make up his mind to go after her. He suddenly felt depressed and uneasy. The gentle tremor from the contact of her hand still remained on his lips, and on his forehead her kiss still burned.

“How gently she kisses,” Sasha mused. “Like a sweet sister.”

Sasha’s cheeks burned. He felt deliciously ashamed. Vague reveries stirred within him.

“If she were only my sister,” thought Sasha tenderly, “then I might go to her and kiss her and say an affectionate word. Then I might call her ‘Liudmillotchka dearest,’ or I might call her by some special pet-name: ‘Booba’ or ‘Strekoza.’ And she would respond. Now that would be a joy.

“But instead,” thought Sasha sadly, “she’s a stranger. Lovely, but a stranger. She came and she went. And it’s likely she’s not even thinking about me. And she’s left behind her a sweet scent of rose and lilac, and the feeling of two gentle kisses⁠—and a vague movement in the soul giving birth to a sweet vision as the waves gave birth to Aphrodite.”

Soon Kokovkina returned.

“Phew! how strong it smells here,” she said.

Sasha blushed.

“Liudmillotchka was here,” he said. “And she didn’t find you at home, so she sat a while and sprinkled me with scent and left.”

“What tenderness!” said the old woman in astonishment, “and Liudmillotchka too!”

Sasha laughed confusedly and ran into his own room. As for Kokovkina, she thought that the Routilov sisters were very gay and affectionate girls⁠—and that they could captivate both the young and the old with their affectionate ways.

On the next day, from the morning onward, Sasha felt happy because he had been invited to the Routilovs. At home he waited impatiently for lunch. After lunch, blushing with embarrassment, he asked permission of Kokovkina to go to the Routilovs till seven o’clock. Kokovkina was astonished but let him go. Sasha ran off gaily. He had carefully combed his hair and put pomade on it. He felt happy and slightly nervous, as one is before something important and pleasant. It pleased him to think that he would come and kiss Liudmilla’s hand and that she would kiss his forehead⁠—and then when he left the same kisses would be exchanged. He thought with delight of Liudmilla’s white gentle hand.

All the three sisters met Sasha in the hall. They liked to sit by the window and look out on the street and that was why they saw him from a distance. Gay, well-dressed, chattering, they surrounded him with a noisy, impetuous gaiety⁠—and he at once felt at ease with them and quite happy.

“Here he is, the mysterious young person!” exclaimed Liudmilla.

Sasha kissed her hand and he did it gracefully and with great pleasure to himself. At the same time he kissed Darya’s hand and Valeria’s⁠—it was impossible to pass them by⁠—and found this also very agreeable. All the more, since all three of them kissed his cheek. Darya kissed him loudly and indifferently, as though he were a board; Valeria kissed him gently, lowering her eyes with a sidelong glance, smiled slightly and barely brushed