The Created Legend by Fyodor Sologub (ebook reader color screen TXT) 📕

had to make efforts on his own behalf. And in the whole course of his twenty-five years’ service, beginning as a gymnasia instructor, Doulebov uninterruptedly and skilfully concerned himself with establishing improved relations with all who were higher in rank than he or equal with him. He even made an effort to keep on good terms with the younger set⁠—that was for an emergency; for⁠—who can tell?⁠—the younger sometimes go ahead of the old, and, being young, they might do one an injury⁠—or a good service⁠—when the opportunity offered.

Never to commit an untactful action⁠—in that consisted the chief precept of Doubelov’s life. He knew very well that this or that action was not good in itself, and that the chief thing was “how they would look upon it”⁠—they, that is, the authorities. The authorities were favourably inclined towards Doulebov. He had already been almost promised an assistantship to the head of the Educational District.

Doulebov adopted an attitude towards his subordinates consistent with this personal attitude. To those who acted respectfully towards him and his wife he gave his patronage and made efforts to improve their position. He defended them in unpleasant situations, though very cautiously, in order not to hurt his own position. He was not very fond of those who were disrespectful and independent, and he hindered them all he could.

Recognizing a rising luminary in the newly appointed Vice-Governor, who lately had been a Councillor in the District Government, Doulebov tried to come into agreeable relations with him also. But he conducted himself towards him very cautiously, so that he might not be suspected of too intimate relations with this evil, morose, badly trained man and his vulgar wife.

Doulebov had pleasant manners, a youngish face, and a slender voice which resembled the squeal of a young pig. He was light and agile in his movements. No one had ever seen him drunk, and as a visitor he either did not drink at all or limited himself to a glass of Madeira. He was always accompanied by his wife. It was said that she managed all his affairs, and that Doulebov obeyed her implicitly in everything.

The wife of the Headmaster, Zinaida Grigorievna, was a plump, energetic, and shrewish woman. Her short hair was beginning to get grey. She was very jealous of her influence and maintained it with great energy.

At Doulebov’s invitation the Vice-Governor visited the town school. In inviting the Vice-Governor Doulebov had especially in view the idea of taking him to the Trirodov school. In the event of the school being closed, he wanted to say that it was done at the instigation of the governmental authorities. But Doulebov did not wish to invite the Vice-Governor direct to Trirodov’s school, so as to give no one any reason for saying that he did it on purpose. That was why he persuaded the Vice-Governor to come to the examination at the town school on the eve of the day appointed for the examinations at the Trirodov school.

The town school was situated in one of the dirty side streets. Its exterior was highly unattractive. The dirty, dilapidated wooden structure seemed as if it were built for a tavern rather than for a school. This did not prevent Doulebov from saying to the inspector of the school:

“The new Vice-Governor will visit you today. I invited him to you because you have such a fine school.”

Inspector Poterin, fawning before Doulebov and his wife, said in a flustered way:

“Our building is anything but showy.”

Doulebov smiled amiably and replied encouragingly:

“The building is not the important thing. The school itself is good. The instruction is to be valued and not the walls.”

The Vice-Governor arrived rather late, at eleven, together with Zherbenev, who was an honorary overseer of the school.

There was a very tense feeling in the school. The instructors and the students alike trembled before the authorities. Stupid and vulgar scenes with the Headmaster in the town school were common with Doulebov and did not embarrass him. As for Doulebov and his wife, they were fully alive to their importance. They had received only two or three days before definite news of the appointment of Doulebov as assistant to the head of the Educational Department.

Inspector Shabalov arrived at the school very early that day. He occupied himself with attentions to Zinaida Grigorievna Doulebova, to whom he showed various services with an unexpected and rather vulgar amiableness.

The instructor-inspector, Mikhail Prokopievitch Poterin, conducted himself like a lackey. It was even evident at times that he trembled before the Doulebovs. What reason had he to be afraid? He was a great patriot⁠—a member of the Black Hundred. He accepted bribes, beat his pupils, drank considerably⁠—and he always got off easily.

Zinaida Grigorievna Doulebova examined the graduating classes in French and English. These studies were optional. Inspector Poterin’s wife gave instruction in French. She had not yet fully mastered the Berlitz method, and looked at the Doulebovs cringingly. But at heart she was bitter⁠—at her poverty, abjectness, and dependence.

Poterin knew no languages; but he was also present here, and hissed malignantly at those who answered awkwardly or did not answer at all:

“Blockhead! Numskull!”

Doulebova sat motionless and made no sign that she heard this zealous hissing and these coarse words. She would give freedom to her tongue later, at luncheon.

A luncheon had been prepared for the visitors and the instructors. It cost Poterin’s wife much trouble and anxiety. The table was set in the large room, where on ordinary days the small boys made lively and wrangled in recess-time. They were excluded on this day, and raised a racket outside.

Doulebova sat at the head of the table, between the Vice-Governor and Zherbenev; Doulebov sat next to the Vice-Governor. A pie was brought in; then tea. Zinaida Grigorievna abused the instructors’ wives and the instructresses. She loved gossip⁠—indeed, who does not? The instructors’ wives gossiped to her.

During the luncheon the small boys, having resumed their places in the neighbouring class, sang:

What songs, what songs,
Our Russia does sing.
Do what you like⁠—though you