Yama by Aleksandr Kuprin (best ereader for pdf TXT) 📕

something especial, as us little Jews say. They think up such things that no imagination can picture to itself. It’s enough to drive you crazy!”

“But is that possible?” quietly spoke the sublieutenant, whose breath had been cut off.

“Well, strike me God! But permit me, young man, by the way! You understand yourself. I was single, and of course, every man is liable to sin⁠ ⁠… It’s different now, of course. I’ve had myself written in with the invalids. But from the former days a remarkable collection has remained to me. Just wait, I’ll show it to you right away. Only, please, be as careful as possible in looking at it.”

Horizon with trepidation looked around to the right and left and extracted from his pocket a long, narrow little box of morocco, in the style of those in which playing cards are usually kept, and extended it to the sublieutenant.

“Here you are, have a look. Only, I beg of you, be very careful.”

The sublieutenant applied himself to picking out, one after the other, the cards of plain and coloured photography, in which in all possible aspects was depicted in the most beastly ways, in the most impossible positions, the external side of love which at times makes man immeasurably lower and viler than a baboon. Horizon would look over his shoulder, nudge him with his elbow, and whisper:

“Tell me, ain’t that swell, now? Why, this is genuine Parisian and Viennese chic!”

The sublieutenant looked through the whole collection from the beginning to the end. When he was giving back the little box, his hand was shaking, his temples and forehead were moist, his eyes had dimmed, and over his cheeks had mantled a blush, mottled like marble.

“But do you know what?” Horizon exclaimed gaily, all of a sudden. “It’s all the same to me⁠—the Indian sign has been put upon me. I, as they used to say in the olden times, have burned my ships⁠ ⁠… I have burned all that I used to adore before. For a long time already I’ve been looking for an opportunity to pass these cards on to someone. I ain’t especially chasing after a price. You wish to acquire them, mister officer?”

“Well, now⁠ ⁠… I⁠—that is⁠ ⁠… Why not?⁠ ⁠… Let’s⁠ ⁠…”

“That’s fine! On account of such a pleasant acquaintanceship, I’ll take fifty kopecks apiece. What, is that expensive? Well, what’s the difference, God be with you! I see you’re a travelling man, I don’t want to rob you; let it go at thirty, then. What? That ain’t cheap either? Well, shake hands on it! Twenty-five kopecks apiece. Oi! What an intractable fellow you are! At twenty! You’ll thank me yourself later! And then, do you know what else? When I come to K⁠⸺, I always stop at the Hotel Hermitage. You can very easily find me there either very early in the morning, or about eight o’clock in the evening. I know an awful lot of the finest little ladies. So I’ll introduce you. And, you understand, not for money. Oh, no. It’s just simply nice and gay for them to pass the time with a young, healthy, handsome man of your sort. There’s absolutely no money of any kind necessary. And for that matter⁠—they themselves will willingly pay for wine, for a bottle of champagne! So remember then, The Hermitage, Horizon. And if it isn’t that, remember it anyway! Maybe I can be of use to you. And the cards are such a thing, such a thing, that it will never lay on the shelf by you. Those who like that sort of thing give three roubles for each specimen. But these, of course, are rich people, little old men. And then, you know”⁠—Horizon bent over to the officer’s very ear, winked one eye, and pronounced in a sly whisper⁠—“you know, many ladies adore these cards. Why, you’re a young man, and handsome; how many romances you will have yet!”

Having received the money and counted it over painstakingly, Horizon had the brazenness to extend his hand in addition, and to shake the hand of the sublieutenant, who did not dare to lift up his eyes to him; and, having left him on the platform, went back into the passageway of the car, as though nothing had happened.

This was an unusually communicative man. On the way to his coupé he came to a stop before a beautiful little girl of three years, with whom he had for some time been flirting at a distance and making all sorts of funny grimaces at. He squatted down on his heels before her, began to imitate a nanny goat for her, and questioned her in a lisping voice:

“May I athk where the young lady ith going? Oi, oi, oi! Thuch a big girl! Travelling alone, without mamma? Bought a ticket all by herthelf and travelth alone! Ai! What a howwid girl! And where ith the girl’th mamma?”

At this moment a tall, handsome, self-assured woman appeared from the coupé and said calmly:

“Get away from the child. What a despicable thing to annoy strange children!”

Horizon jumped up on his feet and began to bustle:

“Madame! I could not restrain myself⁠ ⁠… Such a wonderful, such a magnificent and swell child! A regular cupid! You must understand, madam, I am a father myself⁠—I have children of my own⁠ ⁠… I could not restrain myself from delight!⁠ ⁠…”

But the lady turned her back upon him, took the girl by the hand and went with her into the coupé, leaving Horizon shuffling his feet and muttering his compliments and apologies.

Several times during the twenty-four hours Horizon would go into the third class, of two cars, separated from each other by almost the entire train. In one care were sitting three handsome women, in the society of a black-bearded, taciturn, morose man. Horizon and he would exchange strange phrases in some special jargon. The women looked at him uneasily, as though wishing, yet not daring, to ask him about something. Only once, toward noon, did one of them