Yama Aleksandr Kuprin (smart ebook reader txt) š
- Author: Aleksandr Kuprin
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āAnd most important of all,ā added Platonov, āthat would at once spoil for me all the friendly relations which have been so well built up.ā
āEnough of joking!ā incredulously retorted Likhonin. āThen what compels you to pass days and nights here? Were you a writerā āit would be a different matter. Itās easy to find an explanation; well, youāre gathering types or somethingā āā ā¦ observing lifeā āā ā¦ After the manner of that German professor who lived for three years with monkeys, in order to study closely their language and manners. But you yourself said that you donāt indulge in writing?ā
āIt isnāt that I donāt indulge, but I simply donāt know howā āI canāt.ā
āWeāll write that down. Now letās suppose another thingā āthat you come here as an apostle of a better, honest life, in the nature of a, now, saviour of perishing souls. You know, as in the dawn of Christianity certain holy fathers instead of standing on a column for thirty years or living in a cave in the woods, went to the market places, into houses of mirth, to the harlots and scaramuchios. But you arenāt inclined that way.ā
āIām not.ā
āThen why, the devil take it, do you hang around here? I can see very well that a great deal here is revolting and oppressive and painful to your own self. For example, this fool quarrel with Boris or this flunky who beats a woman, andā āin general, the constant contemplation of every kind of filth, lust, bestiality, vulgarity, drunkenness. Well, now, since you say soā āI believe that you donāt give yourself up to lechery. But then, still more incomprehensible to me is your modus vivendi, to express myself in the style of leading articles.ā
The reporter did not answer at once:
āYou see,ā he began speaking slowly, with pauses, as though for the first time lending ear to his thoughts and weighing them. āYou see, Iām attracted and interested in this life by itsā āā ā¦ how shall I express it?ā āā ā¦ its fearful, stark truth. Do you understand, itās as though all the conventional coverings were ripped off it. There is no falsehood, no hypocrisy, no sanctimoniousness, there are no compromises of any sort, neither with public opinion, nor with the importunate authority of our forefathers, nor with oneās own conscience. No illusions of any kind, nor any kind of embellishments! Here she isā āāI! A public woman, a common vessel, a cloaca for the drainage of the cityās surplus lust. Come to me anyone who willsā āthou shalt meet no denial, therein is my service. But for a second of this sensuality in hasteā āthou shalt pay in money, revulsion, disease and ignominy.ā And that is all. There is not a single phase of human life where the basic main truth should shine with such a monstrous, hideous, stark clearness, without any shade of human prevarication or self-whitewashing.ā
āOh, I donāt know! These women lie like the very devil. You just go and talk with her a bit about her first fall. Sheāll spin you such a yarn!ā
āWell, donāt you ask then. What business is that of yours? But even if they do lie, they lie altogether like children. But then, you know yourself that children are the foremost, the most charming fibsters, and at the same time the sincerest people on earth. And itās remarkable, that both they and the othersā āthat is, both prostitutes and childrenā ālie only to usā āmenā āand grownups. Among themselves they donāt lieā āthey only inspiredly improvise. But they lie to us because we ourselves demand this of them, because we clamber into their souls, altogether foreign to us, with our stupid tactics and questionings, because they regard us in secret as great fools and senseless dissemblers. But if you like, I shall right now count off on my fingers all the occasions when a prostitute is sure to lie, and you yourself will be convinced that man incites her to lying.ā
āWell, well, we shall see.ā
āFirst: she paints herself mercilessly, at times even in detriment to herself. Why? Because every pimply military cadet, who is so distressed by his sexual maturity that he grows stupid in the spring, like a woodcock on a drumming-log; or some sorry petty government clerk or other from the department of the parish, the husband of a pregnant woman and the father of nine infantsā āwhy, they both come here not at all with the prudent and simple purpose of leaving here the surplus of their passion. He, the good for nothing, has come to enjoy himself; he needs beauty, dāyou seeā āaesthete that he is! But all these girls, these daughters of the simple, unpretentious, great Russian peopleā āhow do they regard aesthetics? āWhatās sweet, thatās tasty; whatās red, thatās handsome.ā And so, there you are, receive, if you please, a beauty of antimony, white lead and rouge.
āThatās one. Secondly, his desire for beauty isnāt enough for this resplendent cavalierā āno, he must in addition be served with a similitude of love, so that from his caresses there should kindle in the woman this same āfa-hire of insane pahass-ssion!ā which is sung about in idiotical ballads. Ah! Then that is what you want? There yāare! And the woman lies to him with countenance, voice, sighs, moans, movements of the body. And even he himself in the depths of his soul knows about this professional deception, butā āgo along with you!ā āstill deceives himself: āAh, what a handsome man I am! Ah, how the women love me! Ah, into what an ecstasy I bring themā āā ā¦ā You know, there are cases when a man with the most desperate brazenness, in the most unlikely manner, is flattered to his face, and he himself sees and knows it very plainly, butā āthe devil take it!ā ādespite everything a delightful feeling of some sort lubricates his soul. And so here. Query: whose is the initiative
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