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

Sasha sighed, looked down, flushed and took off his blouse awkwardly. Liudmilla caught him with her warm hands and covered his shoulders, which trembled with shame, with kisses.

“Do you see how obedient I am?” said Sasha with a forced smile, trying to get rid of his embarrassment with a jest.

Liudmilla quickly kissed his arms from the shoulders to the fingers, and Sasha, immersed in passionate, grave thoughts, did not take them away. Liudmilla’s kisses were warm with adoration⁠—and it was as if her lips were kissing not a boy but a boy-god in a mysterious worship of the blossoming Body.

Darya and Valeria were standing behind the door, looking through the keyhole in turns, jostling each other with impatience, and their hearts were sick with a passionate, burning agitation.

“It’s time to dress,” said Sasha at last.

Liudmilla sighed, and with the same reverent expression helped him on with his clothes.

“So you’re a pagan?” asked Sasha.

Liudmilla laughed.

“And you?” she asked.

“What a question?” said Sasha with assurance. “I’ve learned the whole catechism.”

Liudmilla laughed loudly. Sasha looked at her smiling and asked:

“If you’re a pagan, why do you go to church?”

Liudmilla ceased laughing and reflected.

“Well,” she said, “one has to pray. One has to pray, to weep, to burn a candle, and do something for the dead. And I love it all, the candles, the image-lamps, the incense, the vestments, the singing⁠—if the singers are good⁠—the icons, with their trimmings and ribbons. Yes, all that is beautiful. And I also love Him⁠ ⁠… you know⁠ ⁠… the Crucified One.⁠ ⁠…”

Liudmilla pronounced the last words very quietly, almost in a whisper, blushed like a guilty person and cast down her eyes.

“Do you know I sometimes dream of Him on the cross, and there are drops of blood on His body.”

From that time on Liudmilla more than once took Sasha to her room and began to unbutton his blouse. At first he was ashamed to tears, but he soon got used to it. And already he looked clearly and calmly when Liudmilla bared his shoulders and caressed his back. In the end he would take off his clothes himself.

And Liudmilla found it very pleasant to hold him half-naked on her knees, kissing him.

Sasha was alone at home. He thought of Liudmilla and of his naked shoulders under her passionate glances.

“And what does she want?” he thought. And suddenly he grew livid and his heart beat rapidly. A tumultuous happiness seized him. He turned several somersaults, threw himself on the floor, jumped on the furniture⁠—a thousand absurd movements threw him from one corner to another and his gay, clear laughter resounded through the house. Kokovkina, who had returned home, heard this extraordinary din and went into Sasha’s room. She stood on the threshold in perplexity, shaking her head.

“Why are you making such a row, Sashenka?” she said. “You might have an excuse to do it with other boys, but you’re alone. You ought to be ashamed of yourself, young man⁠—you’re not a child any longer.”

Sasha stood still and in his embarrassment seemed to lose the use of his hands⁠—his whole body trembled with excitement.

Once Kokovkina came home and found Liudmilla there. She was giving Sasha sweets.

“You’re spoiling him,” said Kokovkina affectionately. “He loves sweets.”

“Yes, and yet he calls me a wicked girl,” complained Liudmilla.

“Oh, Sashenka, how could you!” said Kokovkina reproachfully. “Why did you say that?”

“She’s teasing me,” said Sasha falteringly.

He looked at Liudmilla with vexation and flushed. Liudmilla laughed.

“Storyteller!” Sasha whispered to her.

“Don’t be rude, Sashenka,” said Kokovkina, “it isn’t nice!”

Sasha glanced at Liudmilla with a smile and said quietly:

“Well, I won’t do it again.”

Each time that Sasha came now Liudmilla locked the door and dressed him up in various costumes. Their sweet shame was dressed up in laughter and jokes. Sometimes Liudmilla pulled Sasha into corsets and dressed him in one of her gowns. In the low-cut dress Sasha’s full, gently-rounded arms and round shoulders looked very beautiful. His skin was yellowish, but of an even, soft complexion⁠—a rare occurrence. Liudmilla’s skirt, sleeves and stockings were all becoming to Sasha. Dressed entirely in woman’s clothes Sasha sat down obediently and waved a fan. In this costume he really resembled a girl, and he tried to behave like one. There was only one flaw⁠—Sasha’s short hair. Liudmilla thought it would be ugly to put a wig on Sasha’s hair or to tie on a plait of hair.

Liudmilla taught Sasha to curtsy. He did this awkwardly and shyly at first. But he was graceful in spite of his boyish angularity. Blushing and laughing, he learned diligently to curtsy and he coquetted furiously.

Sometimes Liudmilla seized his bare, graceful arms and kissed them. Sasha did not resist, and looked laughingly at Liudmilla. Sometimes he held out his hands to her lips and said:

“Kiss them!”

But he liked most of all other costumes, which Liudmilla herself made, particularly the dress of a fisher-boy with bare legs, the tunic of a barefoot Athenian boy.

Liudmilla would dress him up and admire him. But she herself would go pale and look melancholy.

Sasha was sitting on Liudmilla’s bed, playing with the folds of his tunic and dangling his naked legs. Liudmilla stood in front of him and looked at him with an expression of happiness and surprise.

“How stupid you are!” said Sasha.

“There’s so much happiness in my stupidity,” said Liudmilla, pale and crying, and kissing Sasha’s hands.

“Why are you crying?” asked Sasha, smiling unconcernedly.

“My heart is stung with happiness. My breast is pierced with seven swords of happiness⁠—how can I help crying?”

“You are a little fool, really you’re a little fool,” said Sasha with a laugh.

“And you’re wise!” replied Liudmilla in sudden vexation and sighed, wiping her tears away. “Understand, little stupid,” she said in a quiet, persuasive voice, “that happiness and wisdom are only to be found in madness.”

“Yes, yes?” said Sasha incredulously.

“You must forget and forget yourself and then you’ll understand everything,” whispered Liudmilla. “In your opinion, do wise men think?”

“And what else should they do?”

“They simply know. It’s given to them at once; they only