The Little Demon Fyodor Sologub (large ebook reader .TXT) 📖

the house that day. He felt certain that Liudmilla would find time to come.

So it happened⁠—Liudmilla came. She kissed Sasha’s cheek and gave him her hand to kiss, and again she laughed and he blushed. A moist, sweet and flower-like odour came from Liudmilla’s clothes⁠—rose and orris, the fleshly and voluptuous orris blooming among roses. Liudmilla brought a long narrow box wrapped up in thin paper through which showed dimly a yellow label. She sat down, put the box on her knees, and looked archly at Sasha.

“Do you like dates?” she asked.

“Yes, I do,” said Sasha with an amused grimace.

“Well, I’ve got some here for you,” she said with a serious air.

She took the cover from the box and said:

“Take some.”

She herself took the dates one by one from the box and put them in Sasha’s mouth, making him kiss her hand after each. Sasha said:

“But my lips are sticky.”

“That doesn’t matter much. Kiss, it’s good for your health,” replied Liudmilla gaily. “I don’t object.”

“Perhaps I’d better give you all the kisses at once,” said Sasha laughingly.

And he stretched out his hand to take a date himself.

“You’ll cheat me! You’ll cheat, me!” exclaimed Liudmilla, and quickly shut the lid down, pinching Sasha’s fingers.

“What an idea! I’m quite honest. I won’t cheat you,” said Sasha reassuringly.

“No, no, I don’t believe you,” asserted Liudmilla.

“Well, if you like I’ll give you the kisses beforehand,” suggested Sasha.

“That looks more like business,” said Liudmilla. “Here you are.”

She stretched out her hand to Sasha. He took her long thin fingers, kissed them once and asked with a sly smile, without letting go of her hand:

“And you’ll not cheat me, Liudmillotchka?”

“Do you think I’m dishonest!” answered Liudmilla. “You can kiss without suspicion.”

Sasha bent over her hand and gave it quick kisses; he covered her hand with loud kisses, pressing his open lips against her hand, and feeling happy that he could kiss her so often. Liudmilla carefully counted the kisses. When she had counted ten, she said:

“It must be very awkward for you to stand and bend over.”

“Well, I’ll make myself more comfortable,” said Sasha.

He went down on his knees and kissed her hand with renewed zeal.

Sasha loved sweets. He was pleased that Liudmilla had brought him some sweet things. For this he loved her still more tenderly.

Liudmilla sprinkled Sasha with lusciously aromatic scents. Their aroma astonished Sasha. It was at once overpoweringly sweet, intoxicating and radiantly hazy⁠—like a sinful golden sunrise seen through an early white mist. Sasha said:

“What a strange perfume!”

“Try it on your hand,” advised Liudmilla.

And she gave him an ugly, four-cornered jar, rounded at the edges. Sasha looked at it against the light. It was a bright yellow liquid. It had a large, highly coloured label with a French inscription⁠—it was cyclamen from Piver’s. Sasha took hold of the flat glass stopper, pulled it out and smelled at the perfume. Then he did as Liudmilla liked to do⁠—he put his palm on the mouth of the bottle, turned it over quickly and then turned it upright again. Then he rubbed between his palms the few drops of cyclamen that remained and smelled his hand attentively. The spirit in the scent evaporated and the pure aroma remained. Liudmilla looked at him with expectancy.

Sasha said indecisively:

“It smells a little of insects.”

“Don’t tell lies, please,” said Liudmilla in vexation.

She put some of the scent on her hand and smelled it. Sasha repeated:

“Yes, of insects.”

Liudmilla suddenly flared up, so that small tears glistened in her eyes. She struck Sasha across the cheek and cried:

“Oh, you wicked boy! That’s for your insects!”

“That was a healthy smack,” said Sasha, and he laughed and kissed Liudmilla’s hand. “But why are you so angry, dearest Liudmillotchka? What do you think it does smell of?”

He was not at all angry at the blow⁠—he was completely bewitched by Liudmilla.

“What does it smell of?” asked Liudmilla, and caught hold of Sasha by the ear. “I’ll tell you what, but first I’m going to pull your ear for you.”

“Oi-oi-oi! Liudmillotchka darling, I won’t do it again!” exclaimed Sasha, frowning with pain and pulling away from her.

Liudmilla let go of the reddened ear, gently drew Sasha to her, seated him on her knees and said:

“Listen⁠—three scents live in the cyclamen⁠—the poor flower smells of ambrosia⁠—that is for working bees. You know, of course, that in Russian this is called ‘sow-bread.’ ”

“Sow-bread,” repeated Sasha laughingly. “That’s a funny name.”

“Now, don’t laugh, you young scamp,” said Liudmilla as she caught hold of his other ear, and continued: “Ambrosia, and the bees humming over it, that’s the flower’s joy. The flower also smells of vanilla. Now this is not for the bees, but for him of whom they dream, and this is the flower’s desire⁠—the flower and the golden sun above it. The flower’s third perfume smells of the sweet tender body for the lover, and this is its love⁠—the poor flower and the heavy midday sultriness. The bee, the sun and the sultriness⁠—do you understand, my dear?”

Sasha silently shook his head. His smooth face flamed and his long dark eyelashes trembled slightly. Liudmilla looked dreamily into the distance and said:

“It gives one joy⁠—the gentle and sunny cyclamen⁠—it draws one towards desires, which give sweetness and shame, and it stirs the blood. Do you understand, my little sun, when it feels sweet and happy and sad and one wants to cry? Do you understand? That’s what it is.”

She pressed her lips in a long kiss on Sasha’s. Liudmilla looked pensively in front of her. Suddenly a smile came across her lips. She lightly pushed Sasha away and asked:

“Do you like roses?”

Sasha sighed, opened his eyes, smiled tenderly and whispered:

“Yes.”

“Large roses?” asked Liudmilla.

“Yes, all sorts⁠—large and small,” replied Sasha quickly, and he gracefully left her knees.

“And so you like rosotchki29 (little roses)?” asked Liudmilla gently, and her sonorous voice trembled from suppressed laughter.

“Yes, I like them,” answered Sasha quickly. Liudmilla began to laugh.

“You stupid, you like rosotchki (strokes with a rod), and there’s no