Fyodor Sologub

“ Peredonov looked at Marta, screwed up one eye and said:
"You've got a lot of freckles. That's not pretty."
"What can one do?" asked Marta, smiling.
"I've got freckles too," said Vladya, turning round on his narrow seat and brushing against the silent Ignaty.
"You're a boy," said Peredonov, "and so it doesn't matter. A man needn't be handsome; but it doesn't become a girl," he went on, turning to Marta. "No one will want to marry you. You ought to bathe your face in cucumber-brine." ”

“ I didn't do it on purpose," he said timidly.
"Are you afraid you'll melt away, you silly boy, that you won't sit with your shoulders naked?" said Liudmilla reproachfully. "Or are you afraid that you'll get sunburnt, or your beauty and innocence be lost?"
"But why do you want me to do it, Liudmillotchka?" said Sasha with a grimace of embarrassment.
"Why?" said Liudmilla passionately, "because I love beauty. Because I am a pagan, a sinner. I ought to have been born in ancient Athens. I love flowers, perfumes, brightly coloured clothes, the naked body. They say there is a soul. ”

“ She laughed happily and a sweet, languid and piquant odour of Japanese funkia emanated from her, as if it came from her light hair. Liudmilla and Sasha went out for a walk in the town. They invited Kokovkina but she would not go.
"How could an old woman like me go out with you? I'd only get in your way. You'd better go out by yourselves."
"But we'll get into mischief," laughed Liudmilla.
The warm, languid air caressed them and called to remembrance the irrevocable. The sun, as if diseased, burned dimly and lividly in the pale, tired sky. The dry leaves lay humbly on the dark earth, dead. ”

“ Marta brought the bilberries and apples in an earthen-ware cup and began to relate how she had dreamed the night before that she had gone to a wedding as a brides-maid, where she ate pine-apples and pancakes with mead; on one pancake she had found a hundred-rouble note and she cried when they took it from her, and woke up in tears.
"You should have hidden it on the quiet so that no one could see it," said Peredonov rather gruffly. "If you can't even keep money in a dream, what sort of a housewife will you make?"
"There's no reason to feel sorry for this money," said Vershina. ”

“ He had bad luck, as he nearly always did, and it seemed to him that the faces of the kings, queens and knaves expressed spite and mockery; the queen of spades even gritted her teeth, evidently enraged by his blinding her. Finally, after a heavy loss, Peredonov seized the pack of cards and in his rage began to tear them to shreds. The guests roared with laughter. Varvara said with a smile:
"He's always like that—whenever he takes a drop he always does strange things."
"You mean when he's drunk," said Prepolovenskaya spitefully. "Do you hear, Ardalyon Borisitch, what your cousin thinks of you?" ”

“ A ram stood at the cross-roads and looked stupidly at him. This ram so closely resembled Volodin that Peredonov felt frightened. He thought that possibly Volodin had turned into a ram to spy upon him.
"How do we know?" he thought. "Perhaps it is possible; science has not discovered everything and it's possible someone does know something. Now there are the French—a learned people, and yet magicians and mages have begun to spread there." And a fear took possession of him. "This ram might kick me," he thought.
The ram began to bleat, and its bleat resembled Volodin's laughter. ”

“ 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 ikons, with their trimmings and ribbons. Yes, all that is beautiful. ”

“ Vershina and Marta exchanged glances in a perplexed way.
"Why are you looking at each other?" said Peredonov crossly. "There's nothing for you to look at each other about: everything's settled now and I shall marry Varvara. There were a lot of little girls trying to catch me here."
Vershina sent Marta for cigarettes and Marta gladly ran from the summer-house. She felt herself free and light-spirited as she went over the little sandy paths strewn with the bright-coloured autumn leaves. Near the house she met Vladya barefoot—and she felt even gayer and more cheerful. ”

“ After a short silence Peredonov said abruptly:
"The Poles have no brains."
Marta flushed.
"There are all kinds of people among both Russians and Poles," she said.
"No, what I say is true," persisted Peredonov, "the Poles are stupid. They only submit to force. Take the Jews—they're clever."
"The Jews are cheats—they're not clever at all," said Vladya.
"No, the Jews are a very clever people. The Jew always gets the best of a Russian, but a Russian never gets the best of a Jew."
"It isn't a great thing to get the best of other people," said Vladya. "Is mind only to be used for cheating?" ”

“ He said gruffly to Mourin:
"You sit there like a bridegroom. Your whole face is shining."
"I have reason to be happy," said Mourin in a brisk, cheerful voice. "I have managed my business very well."
He winked at his hostesses. They both had gay smiles. Peredonov asked gruffly, contemptuously screwing up his eyes:
"What is it? Have you found a bride? Has she a big dowry?"
Mourin went on as if he had not heard these questions:
"Natalya Afanasyevna there—may God be good to her—has agreed to take charge of my Vaniushka. ”

“ Volodin nevertheless felt himself a hero. Peredonov, to mollify him, gave him a caramel.
A new visitor arrived—Sofya Efimovna Prepolovenskaya, the wife of the forester, a fat woman, with a face half good-natured, half cunning—brisk in her movements. She sat down at the table and asked Volodin slyly:
"Pavel Vassilyevitch, why do you come so often to visit Varvara Dmitrievna?"
"I don't come to visit Varvara Dmitrievna," answered Volodin bashfully, "but to see Ardalyon Borisitch."
"You haven't yet fallen in love with anyone?" asked Prepolovenskaya with a laugh. ”

“ Nadezhda smiled.
"Please go on," she said.
"I'm going to speak for him," said Peredonov. "He's bashful, he can't make up his mind to do it himself. He's a worthy, non-drinking, good man. He does not earn much, but that's nothing. Everyone needs a different thing—one needs money, another needs a man. Well, why don't you say something?" He turned to Volodin, "Say something!"
Volodin lowered his head and spoke in a trembling voice, like a bleating ram:
"It's true I don't earn high wages. But I shall always have my crumb of bread. ”

“ Before Peredonov arrived there was already a visitor there. Peredonov knew him—but then who is not known to everyone in our town? Everyone knows everyone else, but some have quarrelled and broken off the acquaintance.
This was the District physician, Georgiy Semenovitch Trepetov, a little man—even smaller than Kirillov—with a pimply, insignificant, sharp-featured face. He wore blue spectacles, and he always looked under or to the side of them, as if it were an effort to look at his companion. He was unusually upright, and never gave a single kopeck for anyone else's benefit. ”

“ And Peredonov frowned.
At his side stood a late-comer, the inspector of the National Schools, Sergey Potapovitch Bogdanov, an oldish man with a brown, stupid face, who always looked as if he wanted to explain to somebody something which he could never make head or tail of himself. No one was easier to frighten or to astonish than Bogdanov: no sooner did he hear anything new or disquieting than his forehead would become wrinkled from his inward, painful efforts and from his mouth would issue a string of incoherent and perplexed exclamations. ”

“ 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. ”

“ But Volodin answered for him gravely and judiciously:
"Why not accept it, if she's rich? She's gratified herself with pleasures and she ought to pay for them."
"If she were at least a beauty," said Peredonov mournfully. "She's freckled and pug-nosed. She paid very well, otherwise I wouldn't even want to spit at the hag! She must attend to my request."
"You're a liar, Ardalyon Borisitch," said Routilov.
"A liar! What an idea! Do you suppose she paid me for nothing? She's jealous of Varvara, and that's why she doesn't give me the job at once." ”

“ 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." ”

“ She loved aromatic flowers. Her room was always full of some sweet scent—with flowers, with perfumes, with pines, and in the spring with birch-twigs.
But here were the sisters, and Kokovkina with them. Liudmilla ran through the kitchen, across the vegetable garden, by the little gate, along a lane in order not to meet Kokovkina. She smiled happily, walked quickly towards Kokovkina's house and playfully swung her hand-bag and white parasol. The warm autumn day gladdened her and it seemed as if she were bringing with her and spreading around her her own spirit of gaiety. ”

“ Varvara smiled and said:
"You're making a fool of yourself. I haven't the power to bewitch anyone, and as if I wanted it!"
He felt vexed and frightened because she was smiling: that meant, he thought, that she might bewitch him even without cards. The cat was shrinking under the bed, and his green eyes sparkled—one might be bewitched by his fur, if it were stroked in the dark so that electric sparks flew from it. Behind the chest of drawers the grey nedotikomka gleamed again—was it not Varvara who called it up at nights with a slight whistle like a snore! ”

“ Peredonov rose and shouted:
"Well, we'll have a drink, Pavloushka!"
Volodin sniggered.
"That's a possibility, Ardasha," he said. "It's always possible to take a drink."
"We must get that cat back," decided Peredonov.
"A treasure," replied Varvara sarcastically. "I'll send Klavdiushka for it after dinner."
They sat down to dinner. Volodin was in a cheerful mood and chattered and laughed a great deal. His laughter sounded to Peredonov like the bleating of the ram he had met in the street.
"Why has he got evil intentions against me?" thought Peredonov. "What does he want?" ”

“ They only kept laughing all the time. And their laughter, quiet at first, resounded louder and more evil in his ears all the time, like the laughter of untameable furies.
There were practically no outsiders in the church. Only two or three old women came from somewhere or other. And this was fortunate, for Peredonov conducted himself curiously and stupidly. He yawned, mumbled, nudged Varvara, complained about the smell of incense, wax and muzhiks.
"Your sisters are always laughing," he grumbled, turning to Routilov. "They'll perforate their livers with laughing." ”

“ The pursuit of him by would-be brides, the envy of his comrades, more often the product of his imagination than an actual fact, all sorts of suspected snares—all this made his life wearisome and unhappy, like the weather which for several successive days had been bleak, and often resolved itself into slow and scant, but cold and prolonged rains. Peredonov felt that life was becoming a detestable thing—but he thought that he would soon become an inspector, and then everything would take a turn for the better. ”