"Leave me alone! You see it has nothing to do with you."She felt sorry for him when she noticed the gloomy and melancholy expression of his keen, green eyes; she made it her duty to question him as to what had happened to him, and when he seated himself at the dinner-table she suddenly approached him, placed her hands on his shoulders, and looking down into his face, asked him tenderly and anxiously:
"Papa, are you ill? tell me!"
Her caresses were extremely rare; they always softened the lonely old man, and though he did not respond to them for some reason or other he nevertheless could not help appreciating them. And now he shrugged his shoulders, thus throwing off her hands and said:
"Go, go to your place. How the itching curiosity of Eve gives you no rest."But Lubov did not go away; persistingly looking into his eyes, she asked, with an offended tone in her voice:
"Papa, why do you always speak to me in such a way as though Iwere a small child, or very stupid?"
"Because you are grown up and yet not very clever. Yes! That's the whole story! Go, sit down and eat!"She walked away and silently seated herself opposite her father, compressing her lips for affront. Contrary to his habits Mayakin ate slowly, stirring his spoon in his plate of cabbage-soup for a long time, and examining the soup closely.
"If your obstructed mind could but comprehend your father's thoughts!" said he, suddenly, as he sighed with a sort of whistling sound.
Lubov threw her spoon aside and almost with tears in her voice, said:
"Why do you insult me, papa? You see that I am alone, always alone! You understand how difficult my life is, and you never say a single kind word to me. You never say anything to me! And you are also lonely; life is difficult for you too, I can see it. You find it very hard to live, but you alone are to blame for it! You alone!
"Now Balaam's she-ass has also started to talk!" said the old man, laughing. "Well! what will be next?""You are very proud of your wisdom, papa."
"And what else?"
"That isn't good; and it pains me greatly. Why do you repulse me?
You know that, save you, I have no one."
Tears leaped to her eyes; her father noticed them, and his face quivered.
"If you were not a girl!" he exclaimed. "If you had as much brains as Marfa Poosadnitza, for instance. Eh, Lubov? Then I'd laugh at everybody, and at Foma. Come now, don't cry!"She wiped her eyes and asked:
"What about Foma?"
"He's rebellious. Ha! ha! he says: 'Take away my property, give me *******!' He wants to save his soul in the kabak. That's what entered Foma's head.""Well, what is this?" asked Lubov, irresolutely. She wanted to say that Foma's desire was good, that it was a noble desire if it were earnest, but she feared to irritate her father with her words, and she only gazed at him questioningly.
"What is it?" said Mayakin, excitedly, trembling. "That either comes to him from excessive drinking, or else--Heaven forbid--from his mother, the orthodox spirit. And if this heathenish leaven is going to rise in him I'll have to struggle hard with him! There will be a great conflict between us. He has come out, breast foremost, against me; he has at once displayed great audacity. He's young-- there's not much cunning in him as yet. He says: 'I'll drink away everything, everything will go up in smoke! I'll show you how to drink!
Mayakin lifted his hand over his head, and, clenching his fist, threatened furiously.
"How dare you? Who established the business? Who built it up?
You? Your father. Forty years of labour were put into it, and you wish to destroy it? We must all go to our places here all together as one man, there cautiously, one by one. We merchants, tradesmen, have for centuries carried Russia on our shoulders, and we are still carrying it. Peter the Great was a Czar of divine wisdom, he knew our value. How he supported us! He had printed books for the express purpose of teaching us business.
There I have a book which was printed at his order by Polidor Virgily Oorbansky, about inventory, printed in 1720. Yes, one must understand this. He understood it, and cleared the way for us. And now we stand on our own feet, and we feel our place.
Clear the way for us! We have laid the foundation of life, instead of bricks we have laid ourselves in the earth. Now we must build the stories. Give us ******* of action! That's where we must hold our course. That's where the problem lies; but Foma does not comprehend this. But he must understand it, must resume the work. He has his father's means. When I die mine will be added to his. Work, you puppy! And he is raving. No, wait! I'll lift you up to the proper point!"The old man was choking with agitation and with flashing eyes looked at his daughter so furiously as though Foma were sitting in her place. His agitation frightened Lubov, but she lacked the courage to interrupt her father, and she looked at his stern and gloomy face in silence.
"The road has been paved by our fathers, and you must walk on it.
I have worked for fifty years to what purpose? That my children may resume it after I am gone. My children! Where are my children?"The old man drooped his head mournfully, his voice broke down, and he said sadly, as if he were speaking unto himself:
"One is a convict, utterly ruined; the other, a drunkard. I have little hope in him. My daughter, to whom, then, shall I leave my labour before my death? If I had but a son-in-law. I thought Foma would become a man and would be sharpened up, then I would give you unto him, and with you all I have--there! But Foma is good for nothing, and I see no one else in his stead. What sort of people we have now! In former days the people were as of iron, while now they are of india-rubber. They are all bending now. And nothing--they have no firmness in them. What is it? Why is it so?"Mayakin looked at his daughter with alarm. She was silent.
