The Man Who Was Afraid

olga with fairy-tale rapidity, Ignat Gordyeeff, a young fellow, was wor

their aims, and, excepting their own will, they know no law. Sometimes they speak of their conscience with fear, sometimes they really torture themselves struggling with it, but conscience is an unconquerable power to the faint-hearted only; the strong master it quickly and make it a slave to their desires,

and when Ignat lived according to its commands, he was merely a man seized with untamable passion for work. This passion burned in him by day and by night, he was completely absorbed by it, and, grabbing everywhere hundreds and thousands of roubles, it seemed as if he could never have enough of the jingle and sound of money. He worked about up and down the Volga, building and fastening nets in which he caught gold: he bought up grain in the villages, floated it to Rybinsk on his barges; he plundered, cheated, sometimes not noticin

n. Crush it! Now

coming up to him, “the ice is crushing

Fine? She can split the whole world, like curd, with a knife. Look, look! There you

e tavern on the shore, drank vodka and looked out of the window, watching th

r the vessel, Ign

a gave it to me, and the Volga has take

rthel

. But when my ‘Volgar’ was burned — I was really sorry — I didn’t see it. How beautiful it must have l

sorry for t

t’s the use? I might have cried; tears cannot extinguish fire. Let the steamers burn. And even though everything b

words you say. And whoever speaks that way, even

ry kopeika; he gave to the poor very seldom, and only to those that were altogether unab

o my dvornik and help him to remo

ought and, inquisitively looking about himself from under his thick, knitted eyebrows, walk about for days, angry and morose, as though silently asking something, which he feared to ask aloud. They awakened his other soul, the turbulent and lustful soul of a hungry beast. Insolent and cynical, he drank, led a depraved life, and made drunkards of other people. He went into ecstasy, and something like a volcano of filth boiled within him. It looked a

personal, deformed and nasty creature, he played the part of a buffoon: they smeared his bald head with mustard, made him go upon all- fours, drink mixtures of different brandies and danc

me a r

ks, sometimes gave him nothing, but it sometimes happen

cried Ignat to him one

by the call, and bowing

ak!” roar

wered the priest, and the compan

scal?” asked

of need and the w

alled him. “Come and

p to the intoxicated merchant with timid

ng him next to himself. “You are a very near man to me. I am also a rascal! You, bec

e priest, softly. All t

now now w

d

You are a ras

and shook his head negatively. The company’s laughter was now like the rattl

give yo

kly answere

do you nee

llar, and shook out of his dirty lips the following speech

. I save for her, because when she comes out there w

r a long time gloomy and lost in thought, and now and again star

u a liar,

e sign of the cross and low

one of the company, conf

d, striking the table with his fist,

our daughter! How m

ok his head an

thous

he priest was shrinking as though

Ignat, with

is it?” muttered the priest, st

hr

ging voice. “For God’s sake! For Christ’s sake! Eno

nd his eyes, unnoticed by anybody before, flashed like coal

straightening himself to his fu

at’s going on here? It’s enough t

went down on his knees befor

hat a rascal I am. We

huge turtle, crept around near his feet, kissed his knees and muttered something, sobbing

ght into my sh

gnat’s stern voice, laughed again so tha

u a hundred r

fear, or for happiness, to hear that this man was

d the priest, and, flinging at him a pack

sinner. I was about to unburden myself completely; the heart trembled. Let me, I thought. No, I didn’t

ow!” said the cro

rybody censured him strictly, but no one ever declined his

wife’s reproaches, and, humble and meek as a lamb, went away to his room and locked himself in. For many hours in succession he knelt before the cross, lowering his head on his breast; his hands hung helplessly, hi

muffled voice, firmly pressing the pa

nce he drank nothing but w

ese victuals and locked himself in again. During this time he was not disturbed in any way; everybody tried to avoid him. A few days later he again appea

grew the greater was this desire. Very often such conversation as this took place between him and his wife. In the morning, at her tea

’t you fee

meant, but she in

ling? Your fists ar

I’m talking a

e pregnant fro

en; it’s because you eat too much. You fill your stomach with al

’t bear you a

hall pray for my sins? Shall I give it to a cloister? I have given them enough! Or shall I leave it to you? What a fine pilgrim you are! Even in churc

, for he felt that his life was aimless

re unnecessary to him. He began to beat his wife during the second year of their married life; at first he did it while being intoxicated and without animosity, but just according to the proverb: “Love your wife like

ram from relatives at home, informing him of his wife’s death. He made

absence; look af

ving prayed for the repose of the late Aquilina’s soul, he began t

eyebrows; in his sunburnt face, overgrown with a thick, black beard, and in all his mighty figure there was much truly Russian, crude and healthy beauty; in his

m his daughter in marriage, and toward autumn Ignat Gordyeeff came home with a young Cossack-wife. Her name was Natalya. Tall, well-built, with large blue eyes and with a long chestnut braid, she was

p, as though she were looking into her very soul. And her walk, too, was queer. Natalya moved about the spacious room slowly and carefully, as if something invisible restrained the freedom of her movements. Their house was filled with heavy and coarsely boastful luxury; everything there was resplendent, screaming of the proprietor’s wealth, but the Cossack-wife walked past the costly furniture and the silverware in a shy and somewhat frightened manner, as though fearing lest they might seize and choke her. Evidently, the noisy

od-pile, and every one of us blazes up sometimes. She, too, will ta

ngly. “What are you thinking about?

n silent, calml

r sins. Commit the sins first. You know, if you don’t sin you don’t repent; if you don’t repent, y

eel like g

he was cold, returning his caresses but sparingly

re you so sad? Do you fee

e replie

Are you longing

’s not

you thinki

not th

t th

not

get from her a mo

rt. And also in my eyes. And it always

lls, the furniture and everything. Ignat did not

ly, solid things. If you don’t want these, I’ll burn them, I’ll sell

?” said s

h she were sleeping all the time, caring for nothing, going nowhere, e

fe will commence. You are so sad because you have so little anxiet

d,” she answered,

d began to i

ss. You look as if you had ruined somebody’s soul! Eh! You are suc

ply her with caresses, while she turned awa

’t play the f

face to him a

t th

at these words and

red, coming up

sked she, not moving from h

emble before his wrath, and it was stran

y, but in time, she eluded the blow; then she seized his

ch me. I will not allo

e understood by her face that she, too, was a strong beast, and if she cho

rowled, an

hould not bow before him — this would have degraded him. He then began to realise that henceforth his wife w

g his wife with stern curiosity; and in his soul a strong desire was alre

lya Fominichna announced to her

embraced her firmly, a

ar me a son I’ll enrich you! I tell you plainly, I’ll be your slave! By G

er; it’s the will of the Lo

ed Ignat with bitterness a

o look after his wife as th

ick,” he used to say to her, both sternly and mildly. “Why do you skip on the staircase?

o herself, absorbed in the throbbing of new life within her. But the smile on her lips became clea

chapel. He ordered vodka, seated himself by the table and began to drink sternly, listening to the alarm in the house and to the moans of his wife that came from above. In the corner of the room, the images of the ikons, indifferent and dark, stood out confusedly, dimly illumined by the glimmering light of the image lamp.

that way. We had better send to the

s house, entered the room next to Igna

ence, born of the Holy Virgin. Thou dost divine the h

tinuous moan floated softly over the room and died out in the corners, which were filled no

e that it’s ag

ng before the ikons; then he went back to the table, drank the vodka, which had not made him dizz

e came down hastily, crying t

you with a son,

ing a sigh with all the strength of his massive chest, Ignat went down on his kn

My sins before Thee shall not remain without repentance. I thank Thee, Oh

. Tell him that Ignat Matveyich asked him to com

ppeared and said

a Fominichna is calling

re immediately! Tell her she’s a fine fellow! I’ll just get a present for her and I’l

pidly tossed about the room; he was smiling, rubbing his hands and casting fervent glances

, Ignat stood up on tiptoes, and, folding his hands behind his back, walked up to him, stepping carefully and comic

efully! He hasn’t got any bones yet,

less mouth, and cleverly throwing the

er go to

d toward the bed a

w is it,

back the bed curtain, which h

his,” said she in a

less, with black circles around her large, wide-open eyes — her face was strange to him. And the glance of those terrible eyes, motionlessly fixed somew

this,” said he softly, bending over his wife to gi

t surviv

he touched them with his own he unders

hisper, feeling that fright was choking

of him? He must be nursed!

t turn his eyes away from the frightful face of his wife. Her lips were moving, and he heard words spoken in a low voice, but could not understand them. Sitting on the edge o

words. Tears welled up within him, and in his breas

re. Look out. Don’t drink,” w

ace with something, and sighing, beg

has just given birth to a child; and restore her from the bed on which she now lies,

nd then, his thin face was stern and from

ssible temptation, from all possible cruelty, from a

fter the prayer Natalya became unconscious and a day later she died, without saying another word — she died just as quietly as she had lived. Having arranged a pompous funeral, Ignat christened his son, named him Foma, and unwillingly gave his boy into the fami