第22章

“Dogsrun-“ “Dogs？Now，enough，littlefellow。“ “Dogsrunlikechickens。Theyrunhere，intheravine，“ continuedNilushkainthemurmuringaccentsofachildofthree。 “Nevertheless，“musedVologonov，“eventhatseemingnothingofhismaymeansomething。Yes，theremaylieinitagreatdeal。 Now，say:’Perditionwillarisebeforehimwhoshallhasten。’“ “No，IwanttoSINGsomething。“ WithasplutterVologonovsaid: “Trulyyouareadifficultsubjecttodealwith！“ Andwiththathefelltopacingthefloorwithlong，thoughtfulstridesastheidiot’svoicecriedinquaveringaccents: “OLo-ord，haveme-ercyuponus！“ ThusthewinsomeNilushkaprovedindispensabletothefoul，mean，unhealthylifeofthesuburb。Ofthatlifehecolouredandroundedoffthesenselessness，theugliness，thesuperfluity。Heresembledanapplehangingforgottenonagnarledoldworm-eatentree，whenceallthefruitandtheleaveshavefallenuntilonlythebrancheswaveintheautumnwind。Rather，heresembledasole-survivingpictureinthepagesofaragged，soiledoldbookwhichhasneitherabeginningnoranending，andthereforecannolongerberead，isnolongerworththereading，sincenowitspagescontainnothingintelligible。 Andassmilinghisgracioussmile，thelad’spathetic，legendaryfigureflittedpastthemouldybutsandcrackedfencesandriotousbedsofnettles，therewouldreadilyrecurtothememory，andsucceedoneanother，visionsofsomeofthefinerandmorereputablepersonagesofRussianlore——therewouldfilebeforeone’smentalvision，inendlesssequence，menwhosebiographiesinformushow，infearfortheirsouls，theyleftthelifeoftheworld，and，hieingthemtotheforestsandthecaves，abandonedmankindforthewildthingsofnature。Andatthesametimewouldthererecurtoone’smemorypoemsconcerningtheblindandthepoor-inparticular，thepoemconcerningAlexeitheManofGod，andallthemultitudeofotherfair，butunsubstantial，formswhereinRussiahasembodiedhersadandterrifiedsoul，herhumbleandprotestinggrief。Yetitwasaprocesstodepressonealmosttothepointofdistraction。 Once，forgettingthatNilushkawasimbecile，Iconceivedanirrepressibledesiretotalkwithhim，andtoreadhimgoodpoetry，andtotellhimbothoftheworld’syouthfulhopesandofmyownpersonalthoughts。 Theoccasionhappenedonadaywhen，asIwassittingontheedgeoftheravine，anddanglingmylegsovertheravine’sdepths，theladcamefloatingtowardsmeasthoughonair。Inhishands，withtheirfingersasslenderasagirl’s，hewasholdingalargeleaf；andashegazedatitthesmileofhisclearblueeyeswas，asitwere，pervadinghimfromheadtofoot。 “Whither，Nilushka？“saidI。 Withastartheraisedhisheadandeyesheavenward。Thentimidlyheglancedattheblueshadowoftheravine，andextendedtomehisleaf，overtheveinsofwhichtherewascrawlingaladybird。 “Abukan，“heobserved。 “Itisso。Andwhitherareyougoingtotakeit？“ “Weshallallofusdie。Iwasgoingtotakeandburyit。“ “Butitisalive；andonedoesnotburythingsbeforetheyaredead。“ Nilushkaclosedandopenedhiseyesonceortwice。 “Ishouldliketosingsomething，“heremarked。 “Rather，doyouSAYsomething。“ Heglancedattheravineagain——hispinknostrilsquiveringanddilating——thensighedasthoughhewasweary，andinallunconsciousnessmutteredafoulexpression。AshedidsoI noticedthatontheportionofhisneckbelowhisrighteartherewasalargebirthmark，andthat，coveredwithgoldendownlikevelvet，andresemblinginshapeabee，itseemedtobeendowedwithasimilitudeoflife，throughthefaintbeatingofaveininitsvicinity。 Presentlytheladybirdraisedherupperwingsasthoughshewerepreparingforflight；whereuponNilushkasoughtwithafingertodetainher，and，insodoing，letfalltheleaf，andenabledtheinsecttodetachitselfandflyawayatalowlevel。Uponthat，bendingforwardwitharmsoutstretched，theidiotwentsoftlyinpursuit，muchasthoughhehimselfwerelaunchinghisbodyintoleisurelyflight，but，whentenpacesaway，stopped，raisedhisfacetoheaven，and，witharmspendentbeforehim，andthepalmsofhishandsturnedoutwardsasthoughrestingonsomethingwhichIcouldnotsee，remainedfixedandmotionless。 Fromtheravinethereweretendingupwardstowardsthesunlightsomegreensprigsofwillow，withdullyellowflowersandaclumpofgreywormwood，whilethedampcrackswhichseamedtheclayoftheravinewerelinedwithroundleavesofthe“mother-stepmotherplant，“androundaboutuslittlebirdswerehovering，andfromboththebushesandthebedoftheravinetherewasascendingthemoistsmellofdecay。Yetoverourheadstheskywasclear，asthesun，nowsoleoccupantoftheheavens，declinedslowlyinthedirectionofthedarkmarshesacrosstheriver；onlyabovetheroofsofZhitnaiaStreetcouldtherebeseenflutteringaboutinalarmaflockofsnow-whitepigeons，whilewavingbelowthemwastheblackbesomwhichhad，asitwere，sweptthemintotheair，andfromafaronecouldhearthesoundofanangrymurmur，themournful，mysteriousmurmurofthetown。 Whiningly，likeanoldman，achildofthesuburbwasraisingitsvoiceinlamentation；andasIlistenedtothesound，itputmeinmindofaclerkreadingVespersamidthedesolationofanemptychurch。Presentlyabrowndogpasseduswithshaggyheaddespondentlypendent，andeyesasbeautifulasthoseofadrunkenwoman。 And，tocompletethepicture，therewasstanding——outlinedagainstthenearestshantyofthesuburb，ashantywhichlayattheextremeedgeoftheravine-therewasstanding，facetothesun，andbacktothetown，asthoughpreparingforflight，thestraight，slenderformoftheboywho，whilealientoall，caressedallwiththeeternallyincomprehensiblesmileofhisangel-likeeyes。Yes，thatgoldenbirthmarksolikeabeeIcanseetothisday！ Twoweekslater，onaSundayatmid-day，Nilushkapassedintotheotherworld。Thatday，afterreturninghomefromlateMass，andhandingtohismotheracoupleofwaferswhichhadbeengivenhimasamarkofcharity，theladsaid: “Mother，pleaselayoutmybedonthechest，forIthinkthatI amgoingtoliedownforthelasttime。“ YetthewordsinnowaysurprisedFelitzata，forhehadoftenbeforeremarked，beforeretiringtorest: “Somedayweshallallofushavetodie。“ Atthesametime，whereas，onpreviousoccasions，Nilushkahadnevergonetosleepwithoutfirstofallsingingtohimselfhislittlesong，andthenchantingtheeternal，universal“Lord，havemercyuponus！“he，onthisoccasion，merelyfoldedhishandsuponhisbreast，closedhiseyes，andrelapsedintoslumber。 ThatdayFelitzatahaddinner，andthendepartedonbusinessofherown；andwhenshereturnedintheevening，shewasastonishedtofindthathersonwasstillasleep。Next，onlookingcloserathim，sheperceivedthathewasdead。 “Ilooked，“sherelatedplaintivelytosomeofthesuburbanresidentswhocamerunningtohercot，“andperceivedhislittlefeettobeblue；andsinceitwasonlyjustbeforeMassthatIhadwashedhishandswithsoap，Iremarkedthemorereadilythathisfeetwerebecomelesswhitethanhishands。AndwhenIfeltoneofthosehands，Ifoundthatithadstiffened。“ OnFelitzata’sface，assherecountedthis，therewasmanifestanervousexpression。Likewise，herfeatureswereatrifleflushed。Yetgleamingalsothroughthetearsinherlanguorouseyestherewasasenseofrelief——onemightalmosthavesaidasenseofjoy。 “Next，“continuedshe，“Ilookedcloserstill，andthenfellonmykneesbeforethebody，sobbing:’0hmydarling，whitherartthoufled？0hGod，whereforehastThoutakenhimfromme？’“ HereFelitzatainclinedherheaduponherleftshouldercontractedherbrowsoverhermischievouseyes，claspedherhandstoherbreast，andfellintothelament: Oh，goneismydove，myradiantmoon！ 0starofmineeyes，thouhastsettoosoon！ Indarksomedepthsthylightliesdrown’d，Andtimemustyetcompleteitsround，AndthetrumpoftheSecondAdventsound，Ereevermy—— “Here，you！Holdyourtongue！“gruntedVologonovirritably。 Formyself，Ihad，thatday，beenwalkingintheforest，until，asIreturned，IwasbroughtupshortbeforethewindowsofFelitzata’scotbythefactthatsomeoftheerstwhileturbulentdenizensofthesuburbwerewhisperingsoftlytogetheras，withanabsenceofallnoise，theytookturnstoraisethemselvesontiptoe，and，craningtheirnecks，topeerintooneoftheblackwindow-spaces。Yes，likebeesonthestepofahivedidtheylook，andonthegreatmajorityoffaces，andinthegreatmajorityofeyes，therewasquiveringanairoftense，nervousexpectancy。 OnlyVologonovwasnudgingFelitzata，andsayingtoherinaloud，authoritativetone: