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

in the street, entered into conversation, and told her that Liudmilla had already managed to corrupt Sasha. Kokovkina was dumbfounded. When she got home she showered reproaches upon Sasha. She was all the more vexed because this had happened almost before her eyes, and because Sasha had gone to the Routilovs’ with her knowledge. Sasha pretended not to understand anything and he asked:

“What have I done wrong?”

Kokovkina was at a loss for a moment.

“What wrong? Don’t you know yourself? Didn’t I find you in a skirt not long ago? Have you forgotten, you shameless boy?”

“Yes, but what was especially wrong with that? And didn’t you punish me for it? It wasn’t as if I’d stolen the skirt!”

“Hark how he talks!” said Kokovkina in a distraught way. “I punished you, but not enough apparently.”

“Well, punish me again,” said Sasha defiantly, with the look of a person unjustly treated. “You forgave me yourself, and now it wasn’t enough. I didn’t ask you to forgive me⁠—I would have knelt all the evening. And what’s the good of scolding me all the time?”

“Yes, and everyone in town is talking about you and your Liudmillotchka.”

“And what are they saying?” asked Sasha in an innocently inquisitive tone of voice.

Kokovkina was again at a loss.

“It’s clear enough what they’re saying! You know perfectly well what might be said of you. Very little that’s good, you may be sure. You’re up to mischief with your Liudmillotchka⁠—that’s what they’re saying.”

“Well, I won’t get up to mischief again,” Sasha promised as calmly as if the conversation concerned a game of “touch.”

He assumed an expression of innocence, but his heart was heavy. He asked Kokovkina what they were saying and was afraid that he would hear it was something unpleasant. What could they be saying? Liudmillotchka’s room faced the garden; it could not be seen from the street. Besides, Liudmillotchka always lowered the blinds. And if anyone had looked in, what could they say? Perhaps something annoying and insulting. Or perhaps they were only saying that he often went there.

And here on the next day Kokovkina received an invitation to go and see the Headmaster. The old woman was distraught. She did not even mention it to Sasha, but at the appointed time went quickly on her errand. Khripatch kindly and gently informed her of the anonymous letter he had received. She began to cry.

“Be calm, we’re not accusing you of anything,” said Khripatch. “We know you too well. Of course, you’ll have to look after him a little more rigorously. But I want you to tell me now what actually has taken place.”

Kokovkina came home with more reproaches for Sasha.

“I shall write to your aunt,” she said, crying.

“I haven’t done anything. Let Aunt come, I’m not afraid,” said Sasha, and he began to cry also.

The next day Khripatch asked Sasha to come and see him and asked him dryly and sternly:

“I would like to know what sort of an acquaintance you have been cultivating in the town.”

Sasha looked at the Headmaster with deceptive innocence and tranquil eyes.

“What sort of an acquaintance?” he said. “Olga Vassilyevna knows that I only go to my companions and to the Routilovs.”

“Yes, precisely,” continued Khripatch. “What do you do at the Routilovs?”

“Nothing in particular,” replied Sasha with the same innocent look, “we mostly read. The Routilov sisters are fond of poetry. And I’m always home at seven o’clock.”

“Perhaps not always?” asked Khripatch, fixing on Sasha a glance which he tried to make piercing.

“Yes, I was late once,” said Sasha with the calm frankness of an innocent boy. “And Olga Vassilyevna gave it to me. But after that I wasn’t late again.”

Khripatch was silent. Sasha’s calm answers left him rather nonplussed. In any case it would be necessary to give him a reprimand, but how and for what? He was afraid that he might suggest to the boy unwholesome thoughts which⁠—so Khripatch believed⁠—he had not had before; or that he might offend the boy; but he wanted to remove any unpleasantness which might in the future come from this acquaintance. Khripatch thought that an educator’s business was a very difficult and responsible matter, especially if you have the honour of being the head of an educational establishment. This difficult, responsible business of an educator! This banal definition gave wings to Khripatch’s almost drooping thoughts. He began to talk quickly, precisely and uninterestingly. Sasha caught only a phrase here and there:

“Your first duty as a pupil is to learn⁠ ⁠… you should not be attracted by society however pleasant and irreproachable⁠ ⁠… in any case I should say that the society of boys of your own age would be preferable⁠ ⁠… you must keep high your own reputation and that of your educational institution.⁠ ⁠… Finally, I may say candidly that I have reasons to suppose that your relations with young ladies have a character of great freedom unpermissible at your age, and altogether not in accordance with generally accepted rules of propriety.”

Sasha began to cry. He felt distressed that anyone could think and talk of dear Liudmillotchka as of a person with whom you could take improper liberties.

“Upon my word, there was nothing wrong,” he assured the Headmaster. “We only read, went for walks and played⁠—well, we ran sometimes⁠—we did nothing else.”

Khripatch slapped him on the back and said in a dry voice which he tried to make hearty:

“Listen, Pilnikov.⁠ ⁠…”

(Why shouldn’t he sometimes call this boy Sasha! Was it because it was not official and there was, as yet, no ministerial circular?)

“I believe you when you say that nothing wrong has happened, but all the same you had better put an end to your frequent visits. Believe me, it would be better. I speak to you not only as your schoolmaster and official head, but also as your friend.”

Nothing remained for Sasha to do but to make his bow, to thank the Headmaster, and to obey. And Sasha from this time on went to Liudmilla’s only for five or ten minutes at a time⁠—but still he tried to go every