The Little Demon by Fyodor Sologub (reading e books .TXT) 📕

the table or from behind someone’s back, and then hide again. It seemed to be waiting for something. He felt dismayed. The very appearance of the cards dismayed him. He saw two queens in the place of one.

“And where’s the third,” thought Peredonov.

He dully examined the queen of spades, then turned it round to see if the third queen was hiding on the back.

Routilov said: “Ardalyon Borisitch is looking behind the queen’s shirt.”37

They all laughed.

In the meantime two young police officials sat down to play douratchki.38 They played their hands very quickly. The winner laughed with joy and made a long nose at the other. The loser growled.

There was a smell of food. Grushina called the guests into the dining-room. They all went, jostling each other, and with an affected politeness. Somehow they managed to seat themselves.

“Help yourselves, everyone,” said Grushina hospitably. “Now then, my dears, stuff without fears to your very ears.”

“Eat the cake for the hostess’ sake,” shouted Mourin gleefully.

He felt very gay, looking at the vodka and thinking about his winnings.

Volodin and the two young officials helped themselves more lavishly than anyone else, they picked out the choicest and most expensive things, and ate caviar greedily.

Grushina said with a forced laugh:

“Pavel Ivanitch is drunk, but still knows the difference between bread and cake.” As if she had bought the caviar for him! And under the pretext of serving the ladies she took the best dishes away from him. But Volodin was not disconcerted and was glad to take what was left: he had managed to eat a good deal of the best things and it was all the same to him now.

Peredonov looked at the munchers and it seemed to him that everyone was laughing at him. Why? For what reason? He ate piggishly and greedily everything that came to his hand.

After supper they sat down to play cards again. But Peredonov soon got tired of it. He threw down the cards and said:

“To the devil with you! I have no luck. I’m tired! Varvara, let’s go home.”

And the other guests got up at the same time. Volodin saw in the hall that Peredonov had a new stick. He smiled and turned the stick over in front of him, asking:

“Ardasha, why are these fingers bent into a little roll? What does it mean?”

Peredonov angrily took the stick from him and put the handle with a Koukish carved out of black wood on it to Volodin’s nose and said:

“A fig with butter for you!”

Volodin looked offended.

“Allow me to say, Ardalyon Borisitch,” he said, “that I eat bread with butter, but that I do not want to eat a fig with butter.”

Peredonov, without listening to him, was solicitously wrapping up his neck in a scarf and buttoning up his overcoat. Routilov said with a laugh:

“Why are you wrapping yourself up, Ardalyon Borisitch? It’s quite warm.”

“Health before everything,” replied Peredonov.

It was quiet in the street⁠—the street was stretched out in the darkness as if asleep and snored gently. It was dark, melancholy and damp. Heavy clouds moved across the sky. Peredonov growled:

“They’ve let loose the darkness. Why?”

He was not afraid now⁠—he was walking with Varvara and not alone.

Soon a small, rapid, continuous rain began to fall. Everything was still. And only the rain babbled something obtrusively and quickly, sobbing out incoherent, melancholy phrases.

Peredonov felt in nature the reflection of his own dejection, his own dread before the mask of her hostility to him⁠—he had no conception of that inner life in all nature which is inaccessible to external decrees, the life which alone creates the true, deep and unfailing relations between man and nature, because all nature seemed to him permeated with petty human feelings. Blinded by the illusions of personality and distinct existence he could not understand elemental Dionysian exultations rejoicing and clamouring in nature. He was blind and pitiful, like so many of us.

XXIII

The Prepolovenskys undertook the arrangement of the wedding. It was decided that they should be married in a village six versts from the town. Varvara felt uneasy about marrying in the town, after they had lived together so many years as relatives. The day fixed for the wedding was concealed. The Prepolovenskys spread a rumour that it was to take place on Friday, but it was really to be on Wednesday. They did it to prevent curiosity seekers from coming to the wedding. Varvara more than once said to Peredonov:

“Ardalyon Borisitch, don’t you say a word of when the wedding is to be or they might hinder us.”

Peredonov gave the expenses for the wedding unwillingly and with humiliations for Varvara. Sometimes he brought his stick with the Koukish head and said to Varvara:

“Kiss the Koukish and I’ll give you the money. If you don’t, I won’t.”

Varvara kissed the Koukish.

“What of that, it won’t split my lips,” she said.

The date of the wedding was kept secret even from the bride’s-men until the day itself, so that they might not chatter about it. At first Routilov and Volodin were invited as bride’s-men and both eagerly accepted; Routilov looked for an amusing experience, while Volodin felt flattered to play such an important role at such a distinguished event in the life of such an esteemed personage. Then Peredonov considered that one bride’s-man was not enough for him. He said:

“Varvara, you can have one, but I must have two. One isn’t enough for me⁠—it will be difficult to hold the crown39 over me. I’m a tall man.”

And Peredonov invited Falastov as his second bride’s-man.

Varvara grumbled:

“To the devil with him! We’ve got two, why should we have any more?”

“He’s got gold spectacles. He’ll look important,” said Peredonov.

On the morning of the wedding Peredonov washed in hot water, as he always did, to avoid catching cold, and then demanded rouge, explaining:

“Now I have to rouge myself every day or else they’ll think I’m getting old and they won’t appoint me as inspector.”

Varvara disliked giving