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

understand at all what you mean by the original expression ‘he believes in a monkey.’ In my opinion there’s no need to enrich the history of religion with newly-devised cults. As for the affront you received, you ought to have brought him before a court of magistrates. But the very best thing for you to do, is to leave the school. This would be the best way out for you personally and for the gymnasia.”

“I shall be an inspector,” said Peredonov angrily.

“But until then,” continued Khripatch, “you should restrain yourself from these extraordinary visits. You will agree that such conduct is unbecoming to a schoolmaster, and it loses the master his dignity in the eyes of his pupils. To go about from house to house, whipping young boys⁠—this you must agree⁠ ⁠…”

Khripatch did not finish, and merely shrugged his shoulders.

“But after all,” said Peredonov, “I did it for their good.”

“Please don’t let us argue about it,” Khripatch interrupted him sharply. “I request you most emphatically not to let this happen again.”

Peredonov looked angrily at the Headmaster.

That evening they decided to have a housewarming. They invited all their acquaintances. Peredonov walked about the rooms to see that everything was in order and that there was nothing which could be the cause of his being informed against. He thought:

“Well, everything seems all right⁠—there are no forbidden books visible, the icon-lamps are alight, the Royal portraits are hanging in the place of honour on the wall.”

Suddenly Mickiewicz winked at him from the wall.

“He might get me into trouble,” thought Peredonov in fear. “I’d better take the portrait and put it in the privy and bring Pushkin back here.”

“After all Pushkin was a courtier,” he thought, as he hung the portrait on the dining-room wall.

Then he remembered that they would play cards in the evening, so he decided to examine the cards. He took the opened pack of cards which had only been used once and looked through them as if he were trying to find something. The faces of the court cards did not please him⁠—they had such big eyes.

Latterly when he was playing it seemed to him that the cards smiled like Varvara. Even the ordinary six of spades had an insolent and unfriendly look.

Peredonov gathered together all the cards he had and put out the eyes of all the kings, queens and knaves, so that they should not stare at him. He did this first with the cards that had already been used, and afterwards he unsealed the new packs. He did this with furtive glances around him, as if he were afraid that he would be detected. Luckily for him, Varvara was busy in the kitchen and did not come into the rooms⁠—how could she leave such an abundance of eatables: Klavdia might help herself. When she wanted anything from one of the rooms, she sent Klavdia. Each time Klavdia came into the room, Peredonov trembled, hid the scissors in his pocket and pretended that he was dealing the cards for patience. While Peredonov was in this way depriving the kings and queens of any possibility of their irritating him with their stares, an unpleasantness was approaching him from another side. The hat, which Peredonov had thrown on the stove of his former house in order to keep from wearing it, had been found by Ershova. She suspected that the hat had not been left there by a simple accident: her former tenants detested her and it was likely, Ershova thought, that they had put a spell in the hat which would prevent others from taking the house. In fear and vexation she took the hat to a sorceress. The latter looked at the hat, whispered something over it mysteriously and severely, spat to each of the four quarters and said to Ershova:

“They’ve done you some harm and you ought to pay them back. A strong sorcerer has made the spell, but I am more cunning and I will outdo him and I’ll get the better of him.”

And for a long time she recited her spells over the hat, and having received generous gifts from Ershova she told her that she was to give the hat to a young man with red hair, and that he should take it to Peredonov’s house, give it to the first person he met there and then run away without turning round.

As it happened, the first red-haired boy whom Ershova met was one of the locksmith’s sons, who had a grudge against Peredonov for revealing their nocturnal prank. He took with great satisfaction the five-kopeck piece Ershova gave him, and on the way he spat zealously into the hat on his own account. He met Varvara herself in the dark hall of Peredonov’s house. He stuck the hat into her hand and ran away so quickly that Varvara had not time to recognise him.

Peredonov had barely time enough to blind the last knave, when Varvara entered his room, astonished and rather frightened, and said in a trembling voice:

“Ardalyon Borisitch! Look at this!”

Peredonov looked and almost fell over in his terror. The very hat which he had tried to get rid of was now in Varvara’s hands, all crumpled up, dusty, with scarcely a trace of its former magnificence. He asked, panting with fear:

“Where did it come from?”

Varvara recounted in a frightened voice how she had received the hat from a nimble boy who seemed to rise from the ground in front of her and then vanish into it again. She said:

“It must be Ershikha. She has thrown a spell on to your hat. There can’t be any doubt about it.”

Peredonov mumbled something incoherent, and his teeth chattered with fear. Gloomy fears and forebodings tormented him. He walked up and down frowning and the grey nedotikomka ran under the chairs and sniggered.

The guests arrived early. They brought many tarts, apples and pears to the house warming. Varvara accepted everything gladly, saying, merely from politeness:

“Why did you take the trouble to bring such lovely things?”

But if she