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

thought that someone had brought something poor or cheap she felt angry. She was also displeased when two guests brought the same thing.

They lost no time, but sat down at once to play cards. They played stoukolka.

“Good heavens!” exclaimed Grushina suddenly. “I’ve got a blind king!”

“And my queen has no eyes,” said Prepolovenskaya, examining her cards. “And the knave too!”

The guests laughingly examined their cards. Prepolovensky said:

“I wondered why these cards kept catching each other. That’s the reason. I kept feeling. Why is it, I thought, that they have such rough backs? Now I see it comes from these little holes. That’s it⁠—it’s the backs that are rough!”

Everyone laughed except Peredonov, who looked morose. Varvara said with a smile:

“You know my Ardalyon Borisitch has strange whims. He’s always thinking of different tricks.”

“Why did you do it?” asked Routilov with a loud laugh.

“Why should they have eyes?” said Peredonov morosely. “They don’t need to see!”

Everyone roared with laughter, but Peredonov remained morose and silent. It seemed to him that the blinded figures were making wry faces, mocking at him and winking with the gaping little holes in their eyes.

“Perhaps,” thought Peredonov, “they’ve managed to learn to see with their noses.”

He had bad luck, as he nearly always did, and it seemed to him that the faces of the kings, queens and knaves expressed spite and mockery; the queen of spades even gritted her teeth, evidently enraged by his blinding her. Finally, after a heavy loss, Peredonov seized the pack of cards and in his rage began to tear them to shreds. The guests roared with laughter. Varvara said with a smile:

“He’s always like that⁠—whenever he takes a drop he always does strange things.”

“You mean when he’s drunk,” said Prepolovenskaya spitefully. “Do you hear, Ardalyon Borisitch, what your cousin thinks of you?”

Varvara flushed and said angrily:

“Why do you twist my words?”

Prepolovenskaya smiled and was silent.

A new pack of cards was produced in place of the torn pack, and the game was continued.

Suddenly a crash was heard⁠—a pane of glass was broken and a stone fell on the floor near Peredonov. Under the window could be heard a whispering, laughter and then quickly receding footsteps. Everyone jumped from his place in alarm; the women screamed⁠—as they always do. They picked up the stone and examined it fearfully; no one ventured near the window⁠—they first sent Klavdia into the street, and only when she came back, saying that the street was deserted, did they examine the broken window.

Volodin suggested that the stone had been thrown by some schoolboys. His guess seemed a likely one, and everyone looked significantly at Peredonov. Peredonov frowned and mumbled something incoherently. The guests began to talk of the boys of the place, remarking how impudent and wild they were.

It was, of course, not the schoolboys, but the locksmith’s sons.

“The Headmaster put the boys up to it,” announced Peredonov suddenly, “he’s always trying to pick a quarrel with me. He’s thought of this to annoy me.”

“Well, that is a fine idea,” shouted Routilov with a loud laugh.

Everyone laughed.

Grushina alone said:

“Well, what do you expect? He’s such a poisonous man. Anything might be expected of him. He doesn’t do it himself, but puts his sons up to it.”

“It doesn’t make any difference that they’re aristocrats,” bleated Volodin in an injured tone. “Anything might be expected from aristocrats.”

Many of the guests then began to think that perhaps it was time they stopped laughing.

“You seem to have bad luck with glass, Ardalyon Borisitch,” said Routilov. “First your spectacles were broken and now they’ve smashed your window.”

This evoked a new outburst of laughter.

“Broken windows mean long life,” said Prepolovenskaya with a restrained smile.

When Peredonov and Varvara were going to bed that night, it seemed to him that Varvara had something evil in her mind; he took from her the knives and forks and hid them under the mattress. He mumbled in a slow, dull way:

“I know you: as soon as you marry me you’ll inform against me in order to get rid of me. You’ll get a pension and I’ll be in Petropavlosk jail working on the treadmill.”

That night Peredonov’s mind wandered. Dim, terrible figures walked about noiselessly, kings and knaves, swinging their sceptres. They whispered to each other, tried to hide from Peredonov, and stealthily crept towards him under the pillow. But soon they grew bolder and began to walk and run and stir around Peredonov everywhere, upon the floor, upon the bed, upon the pillows. They whispered, they mocked at Peredonov, thrust out their tongues at him, made terrible grimaces before him, stretching out their mouths into deformed shapes. Peredonov saw that they were little and mischievous, that they would not kill him, but were only deriding him, and foreboding evil. But he felt a terrible fear⁠—now he muttered exorcisms, fragments of spells he had heard in his childhood, now he began to curse them and to drive them from him, waving his arms and shouting in a hoarse voice.

Varvara woke and called out irately:

“What are you making such a row about, Ardalyon Borisitch? You won’t let me sleep.”

“The queen of spades is annoying me. She’s got a quilted capote on,” mumbled Peredonov.

Varvara rose, grumbling and cursing, and gave Peredonov some medicine.

In the local district newspaper a short article appeared recounting how a certain Madame K. whipped schoolboys who lived in her house⁠—sons of the best local gentry. The notary, Goudayevsky, carried this news over the whole town and waxed indignant.

And various other absurd rumours about the local gymnasia went through the town: they talked about the girl who was dressed up as a schoolboy, later the name of Pilnikov came gradually to be mentioned with Liudmilla’s. Sasha’s companions began to tease him about his love for Liudmilla. At first he regarded their jests lightly, but later he would sometimes get indignant and defend Liudmilla, trying to convince them that nothing of the sort had happened.

This made him ashamed to go to Liudmilla, and yet it drew him more