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

him with her light lips⁠—touching his cheek with the faint colour of an apple⁠—while Liudmilla gave him a gay, strong kiss.

“He’s my visitor,” she announced, as she took Sasha by the shoulders and led him to her room.

Darya was rather annoyed at this.

“Ah, so he’s yours. Well, you can go on kissing him!” she exclaimed. “You’ve found a treasure. As if anyone would want to take him away from you.”

Valeria said nothing but only smiled⁠—it was not interesting, after all, to talk with a mere boy! What could he understand?

Liudmilla’s room was spacious, cheerful and very light, because of two large windows giving on to the garden; these were curtained with light, yellow tulle. There was a perfume in the room. Everything was neat and bright. The chairs and the armchairs were covered with a golden yellow chintz, marked with a white almost indistinguishable pattern. Various bottles of scents and scented waters, and small jars, boxes and fans and several Russian and French books lay about the room.

“I saw you in a dream last night,” Liudmilla began with a laugh. “You were swimming in the river and I was sitting on the bridge and I caught you with a fishing-rod.”

“And I suppose you put me in a little jar?” asked Sasha jokingly.

“Why in a little jar?”

“Where, then?”

“Where? Why, I simply pulled you by the ears and threw you back in the water.” And Liudmilla laughed for a long time.

“You’re a strange girl,” said Sasha. “But what is it you were going to tell me today?”

But Liudmilla went on laughing and did not reply.

“I see you’ve fooled me,” said he. “And you also promised to show me something,” he said reproachfully.

“I’ll show you! Would you like something to eat?” asked Liudmilla.

“I’ve had lunch,” said Sasha. “But you are a deceiver.”

“As if I needed to deceive you! But what a strong smell of pomade?” Liudmilla suddenly exclaimed.

Sasha blushed.

“I can’t stand pomade,” said Liudmilla with annoyance. “You’re smeared up like a young lady!”

She ran her hand down his hair and struck his cheek with her grease-smeared palm.

“Please don’t you dare to use pomade,” she said.

Sasha felt flustered.

“Very well, I won’t do it,” he said. “How severe you are! But you scent yourself with perfumes!”

“Scents are one thing, but pomade is another, you stupid. A fine comparison!” exclaimed Liudmilla. “I never pomade myself. Why should one glue one’s hair down! It’s different with scents. Now, let me scent you. Would you like it? Let us say lilac. Would you like it?”

“Yes, I would like it,” said Sasha.

It was pleasant to think that he would take that scent home again and astonish Kokovkina.

“Who would like it?” asked Liudmilla, taking the bottle and looking archly at Sasha.

“I’d like it,” repeated Sasha.

“You like it⁠—so you bark do you?”28 she teased him.

Sasha and Liudmilla both laughed.

“So you’re not afraid that I’ll suffocate you?” asked Liudmilla. “Do you remember how you were afraid yesterday?”

“I wasn’t afraid at all,” replied Sasha hotly.

Liudmilla, smiling and still teasing the boy, began to sprinkle him with lilac scent. Sasha thanked her and once more kissed her hand.

“And please you must get your hair cut,” said Liudmilla sternly. “What’s the use of wearing long locks? You only frighten the horses.”

“All right, I’ll have my hair cut,” agreed Sasha. “You’re terribly severe! My hair is very short. Not more than half an inch. The inspector never grumbled at me for it.”

“I like young people with short hair,” said Liudmilla impressively, and threatened him with her finger. “But I’m not an inspector, I’ve got to be obeyed!”

From that time on Liudmilla made it a habit to go frequently to Kokovkina⁠—to see Sasha. She tried, especially at the beginning, to go when Kokovkina was not at home. Sometimes she even tried little tricks to lure the old woman out of the house. Darya once said to her:

“Ah, what a coward you are! You’re afraid of an old woman. You’d better go when she’s at home and take him out for a walk.”

Liudmilla followed this advice and began to call at odd times. If she found Kokovkina at home she would sit with her for a while and then take Sasha out for a walk, in which case she always kept him for a short time only.

Liudmilla and Sasha became friends with a gentle yet not tranquil friendship. Without noticing it herself Liudmilla had awakened in Sasha premature though as yet vague inclinations and desires. Sasha often kissed Liudmilla’s hands and her thin, supple wrists, covered with a soft elastic skin; through her thin yellow sleeve showed her frail, sinuous, blue veins. And above were her long slender arms which could be kissed to the very elbows when the sleeves were pushed back.

Sasha sometimes concealed from Kokovkina the fact that Liudmilla had been to the house. He didn’t lie about it, but he kept silent. It was impossible for him to lie⁠—as the maidservant could easily have contradicted him. And to remain silent about Liudmilla’s visits was also difficult for Sasha: Liudmilla’s laughter echoed in his ears. He wanted to talk about her. But to talk about her was somehow awkward.

Sasha quickly made friends with the other sisters also. He would kiss their hands and soon even began to call the girls “Dashenka,” “Liudmillotchka” and “Valerotchka.”

XVII

Liudmilla met Sasha one day in the street and said to him:

“Tomorrow the Headmaster’s wife is having a birthday party for her eldest daughter⁠—is the old lady going?”

“I don’t know,” said Sasha.

But already the hope stirred within him, not so much a hope as a desire, that Kokovkina would go and Liudmilla come and stay with him a while. In the evening he reminded Kokovkina of the morrow’s party.

“I’d almost forgotten it,” said Kokovkina, “of course, I must go. She’s such a charming girl.”

And, next day, as soon as Sasha had returned from school, Kokovkina went to the Khripatch’s. Sasha was delighted with the idea that he had helped to get Kokovkina out of