Sanine by Mikhail Artsybashev (ebook pdf reader for pc .TXT) 📕

hair, small features, and bad teeth which, as he was continually smiling, were always displayed.

The newcomers were greeted with a noisy chorus of welcome. Yourii saw Sina Karsavina sitting on the windowsill, and instantly everything seemed to him bright and joyous, as if the meeting were not in a stuffy room full of smoke, but at a festival amid fair green meadows in spring.

Sina, slightly confused, smiled at him pleasantly.

“Well, sirs, I think we are all here, now,” exclaimed Soloveitchik, trying to speak in a loud, cheery way with his feeble, unsteady voice, and gesticulating in ludicrous fashion.

“I beg your pardon, Yourii Nicolaijevitch; I seem to be always pushing against you,” he said, laughing, as he lurched forward in an endeavour to be polite.

Yourii good-humouredly squeezed his arm.

“That’s all right,” he said.

“We’re not all here, but deuce take the others!” cried a burly, good-looking student. His loud tradesman’s voice made one feel that he was used to ordering others about.

Soloveitchik sprang forward to the table and rang a little bell. He smiled once more, and this time for sheer satisfaction at having thought of using a bell.

“Oh! none of that!” growled the student. “You’ve always got some silly nonsense of that sort. It’s not necessary in the least.”

“Well⁠ ⁠… I thought⁠ ⁠… that.⁠ ⁠…” stammered Soloveitchik, as, looking embarrassed, he put the bell in his pocket.

“I think that the table should be placed in the middle of the room,” said the student.

“Yes, yes, I am going to move it directly!” replied Soloveitchik, as he hurriedly caught hold of the edge of the table.

“Mind the lamp!” cried Dubova.

“That’s not the way to move it!” exclaimed the student, slapping his knee.

“Let me help you,” said Sanine.

“Thank you! Please!” replied Soloveitchik eagerly.

Sanine set the table in the middle of the room, and as he did so, the eyes of all were fixed on his strong back and muscular shoulders which showed through his thin shirt.

“Now, Goschienko, as the initiator of this meeting, it is for you to make the opening speech,” said the pale-faced Dubova, and from the expression in her eyes it was hard to say if she were in earnest, or only laughing at the student.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” began Goschienko, raising his voice, “everybody knows why we have met here tonight, and so we can dispense with any introductory speech.”

“As a matter of fact,” said Sanine, “I don’t know why I came here, but,” he added, laughing, “it may have been because I was told that there would be some beer.”

Goschienko glanced contemptuously at him over the lamp, and continued:

“Our association is formed for the purpose of self-education by means of mutual readings, and debates, and independent discussions⁠—”

“Mutual readings? I don’t understand,” interrupted Dubova in a tone of voice that might have been thought ironical.

Goschienko blushed slightly.

“I meant to say readings in which all take part. Thus, the aim of our association is for the development of individual opinion which shall lead to the formation in town of a league in sympathy with the social democratic party.⁠ ⁠…”

“Aha!” drawled Ivanoff, as he scratched the back of his head.

“But with that we shall deal later on. At the commencement we shall not set ourselves to solve such great⁠—”

“Or small⁠ ⁠…” prompted Dubova.

“Problems,” continued Goschienko, affecting not to hear. “We shall begin by making out a programme of such works as we intend to read, and I propose to devote the present evening to this purpose.”

“Soloveitchik, are your workmen coming?” asked Dubova.

“Yes, of course they are!” replied Soloveitchik, jumping up as if he had been stung. “We have already sent to fetch them.”

“Soloveitchik, don’t shout like that!” exclaimed Goschienko.

“Here they are!” said Schafroff, who was listening to Goschienko’s words with almost reverent attention.

Outside, the gate creaked, and again the dog’s gruff bark was heard.

“They’ve come!” cried Soloveitchik as he rushed out of the room.

“Lie down, Sultan!” he shouted from the house-door.

There was a sound of heavy footseps of coughing, and of men’s voices. Then a young student from the Polytechnic School entered, very like Goschienko, except that he was dark and plain. With him, looking awkward and shy, came two workmen, with grimy hands, and wearing short jackets over their dirty red shirts. One of them was very tall and gaunt, whose clean-shaven, sallow face bore the mark of years of semi-starvation, perpetual care and suppressed hatred. The other had the appearance of an athlete, being broad-shouldered and comely, with curly hair. He looked about him as a young peasant might do when first coming to a town. Pushing past them, Soloveitchik began solemnly, “Gentlemen, these are⁠—”

“Oh! that’ll do!” cried Goschienko, interrupting him, as usual. “Good evening, comrades.”

“Pistzoff and Koudriavji,” said the Polytechnic student.

The men strode cautiously into the room, stiffly grasping the hands held out to give them a singularly courteous welcome. Pistzoff smiled confusedly, and Koudriavji moved his long neck about as if the collar of his shirt were throttling him. Then they sat down by the window, near Sina.

“Why hasn’t Nicolaieff come?” asked Goschienko sharply.

“Nicolaieff was not able to come,” replied Pistzoff.

“Nicolaieff is blind drunk,” added Koudriavji in a dry voice.

“Oh! I see,” said Goschienko, as he shook his head. This movement on his part, which seemed to express compassion, exasperated Yourii, who saw in the big student a personal enemy.

“He chose the better part,” observed Ivanoff.

Again the dog barked in the courtyard.

“Someone else is coming,” said Dubova.

“Probably, the police,” remarked Goschienko with feigned indifference.

“I am sure that you would not mind if it were the police,” cried Dubova.

Sanine looked at her intelligent eyes, and the plait of fair hair falling over her shoulder, which almost made her face attractive.

“A smart girl, that!” he thought.

Soloveitchik jumped up as if to run out, but, recollecting himself, pretended to take a cigarette from the table. Goschienko noticed this, and, without replying to Dubova, said:

“How fidgety you are, Soloveitchik!”

Soloveitchik turned crimson and blinked his eyes ruefully. He felt vaguely conscious that his zeal did not deserve to be so severely rebuked. Then Novikoff noisily entered.

“Here I am!” he