The Man Who Was Afraid

dark embroidery, and the sun in broken rays peeped into the small rooms, which were closely crowded with miscellaneous furniture and big trunks, wherefore a stern and melancholy semi- dar

llers of the house. Feminine figures almost noiselessly moved about the rooms in the half-dark, stifling, heavy atmo

the house. She was a tall, thin woman, with a dark face and with stern gray eyes, which had an imperious and intelligent expression. Mayakin also had a son Taras, but his name was never mentioned in the house; acquaintances knew that since the

lively, with a little red beard, sly greenish eyes,

hough I know you for what you are, if you

s — one an open, penetrating and intellectual face, with a long gristle nose, and above this face another one, eyeless and mouthless, covered with wrinkles, behind which Ma

m stood a big, old, dilapidated table, and near it a deep armchair, covered with oilcloth, in which Mayakin sat all day long, sipping tea and always reading the same “Moskovskiya Vedomosty,” to which he sub

ing the reign of ‘Mother’ Catherine,

haped eyes. Quiet, silent and persistent in his childish desires, he spent all his days over his playthings, with Mayakin’s daughter, Luba, quietly looked after by one of the kinswomen, a stout, pock-marked old maid, who was, for som

ship between the children still more. Foma’s day was long and uniform. Getting out of bed and washing himself, he used to place himself before the image, and under the whispering of the pock-marked Buzya he recited long prayers. Then they drank tea and ate many biscuits, cakes and pies. After tea — during the summer — the children went to the big palisa

rennet, with gruel — then again a bowl of soup with vermicelli, and all this was usually followed by dessert. They drank kvass made of red bilberries, juniper-berries, or of bread — Antonina Ivanovna always carried a stock of different kinds of kvass. They ate in sil

e choristers, the deacons, weddings, or the dishonourable conduct

er, hand me

e. Putting his heavy, silver-framed spectacles on his big, ravenous nose,

ed to see them and on their faces was a fa

with his hand. He sat and, listening, pictured to himself this man from the land of Uz. The man was tall and bare, his eyes were enormously large, like those of the image of the Saviour, and his voice was like a big brass

man whose way is hid, and

his eyes, he heard the voice of his godfather, who sa

audacious

break the sky; he would not rend it asunder with his terrible arms. And then Foma sees the man again — he sits on the ground, “his flesh

he

n, that he should be righteous?” [These words attributed by Mayakin

“How, says he, can I be righteous, since I am made o

ly and interrogatively loo

righteous man,” they

yes them with a

ter put the chi

is son, caught him up into his arms and hugged him, but someti

bugbear? Oh! Why do

mplain to the l

rn out to be like his mothe

rather too soon,” Maya

unced to him one day that he would take Foma t

d. “See, the child is used

is is harmful to the child. And without him I am lonesome. I come home — it is empty. I can see nothing there. It would not do for me to remove to

brought to his

ray, with gray hair, covered by a black silk cap, she did not please the boy at first; she even frightened him. But when he noticed

that trembled from the fulness of sound, and quietly patted

old woman’s eyes with curiosity and expectation on his face. This old woman led him into a new world, hitherto unknown t

l you a stor

the witch of the fairy-tales — only a kind and amiable old witch — now like the beautiful, all-wise Vasilisa. His eyes wide open, holding his breath, the boy looked into the darkness that filled his chamber and watched it as it slowly trembled in the light of the little lamp that was burning before the image. And Foma filled this darkness with wonderful pictures of fairy- tale life. Silent, yet living shadows, were creeping over the walls and across the floor; it was both pleasant and terrible to him to watch their

like voice, his bearded face, his gray-haired head, his powerful, long arms and hi

ther, smiling kind-heartedly, and talking playfully in a loud voice, took him upon h

years old, he asked his father, w

where w

he Vo

ng there?” aske

wled out, and his e

ma, winking his eyes slyly, satisfied that he h

nd-heartedly and added: “And you are a little fool! I deal in corn, I run a line

ig one,” said F

mall one while you are

tful silence he again drawled out regretfully:

gly, and there was something discontented and almost tim

Kalatch baker?” asked Fom

I am richer than he. I ha

ou much

people have

barrels do

wh

ney, I

ey counted by

obber, came once to a certain town and filled up twelve barrels with money belonging to some rich man there. And he took different

that?” asked Ignat admir

s!

ughing. “So you thought y

you were a ro

was evident on his face that he would b

a robber. Let

ev

God — they rob churches. They are all cursed in the churches. Yes. Look here, my son, you’ll have to start to study soon. It is time; you’ll

school?” asked

e boy would sit down near the table in the morning and,

Buky,

r. Foma succeeded easily in gaining knowledge, almost without any effort, and soon he was reading the first p

that’s right!” chimed in his aunt wi

n informed of his son’s progress. “We’ll go to Astrakhan for

acher, his aunt was his playmate as well. Luba Mayakin used to c

isa, her eyes covered with a handkerchief, her arms outstretched, walking about the room carefully, and

rogues. Where have they

ich yet retained a youthful soul, and upon the old life, that was adornin

e. Sometimes he returned home intoxicated. At first Foma, on such occasions, ran from him and hid himself, then he became accustomed to it, and learned that his father

et me in to my son; let

him in a crying an

p, you cursed devil! Drunk ag

in spite of the noise of their voices. But when Ignat came home intoxicated during the day he immediately seize

know there’s nothing in this world that I wouldn’t buy for you. I have a mi

lent puff of the wind. His flushed face began to shake, his eyes, burning r

e should die, what

er these words he w

ly into some dark corner of the room. “I’d des

Or do you want him to take sick?” interposed Anfisa, and t

am going, but don’t cry! Don’t ma

house for a moment, but bothered his sister and his son with stupid questions and advice;

your grumblings will reach Him, and He will pun

uld happen? My entire life is crumbling aw

child at first, but he soon became accustomed to all this, and when he noticed through the window

a came home

. . . . . . . . . .

son along on one of his steamers, and here a new life,

e powerful and beautiful Volga were slowly moving past him — the left side, all bathed in sunshine, stretching itself to the very end o

on the window-panes of the huts and on the yellow roofs of straw, the church crosses sparkle amid the verdure of the trees, gray wind-mill wings revolve lazily in the air, smoke from the factory chimney rises skyward in thick, black curling clouds. Crowds of children in blue, red or white shirts, standing on the banks, shouted loudly at the sight of the steamer, which had disturbed the quiet of the river, and from und

o-o, on

ater. A passenger steamer comes from the opposite side and whistles — the resounding echo of the whistle loses itself in the woods, in the gorges of the mountainous bank, and dies away there. In the middle of the river the waves stirred up by the two vessels strike against one another and splash against the steamers’ sides, and the vessels are rocked upon the water. On the slope of t

er is felt in the quiet motion of the water; above it the generous May sun is shining, the air is filled with the exquisite odour of fir trees and o

as yet deprived of consciousness, as yet without any definite desires and aims. And the absence of consciousness in this half-slumbering life throws shades of sadness over all the beautiful slope. Submissive patience, silent hope for something new and more inspiriting are heard eve

h in those wonderful kingdoms inhabited by the sorcerers and giants of his familiar fairy-tales. At times he would load his father with questions about everything that passed before them. Ignat answered him wi

sa knows bet

know?” asked

replied the bo

oma lived. Some of them were larger, some smaller, but the people, and the houses, and the churches — all were the same as in his

be in Astrakhan,”

the same as th

How else s

is beyond

Caspian Sea

hat is

w! What else can the

y Kitezh standin

! That’s Kitezh. Only rig

no righteous ci

t’s silence, added: “The sea water

more land be

a must have an end

ere cities

rs, it belongs to Persia. Did you see the Persians

” replied Foma, a

e asked h

much more

f you should go on foot, you could

ith his son about the size of

certain how big it reall

rything ali

do you

ties an

e cities. There are houses, streets

longer stared so often into the distance w

ut of bark, played with him and rowed him about the anchoring place, when Ignat went to town on business. The boy often heard the men talking about his father, but he paid no attention to w

he loads the steamer up to the very deck, and then he roars. ‘You break

e gray and ster

Fuel is cheaper here, so he is taking

how g

fixed itself in Foma’s memory, and in the ev

ap

ha

you g

conversation between the pilot and the machinist. Ignat’

are your servants, understand that. If we choose to, we can put every one of them ashore. They are cheap and they can be found everywhere like dogs. Understand? They may say many bad t

was a new pilot and anoth

s Yakov?” as

him. I order

t?” quer

that ver

trovich

nt him the

quickly. He smiled to his father, and, coming out on the deck, walked up to

pilot here,”

to you, Foma Ignatich

w machini

ist. Are you sorr

he was so g

did he abus

d he ab

e did. I hea

ur father he

I tol

ailor and became silent,

ys, ‘you are master here — you can

s, with swabs and brushes in their hands, cleverly ran about the deck, emptying pails of water on it, besprinkling one another, laughing, shouting, falling. Streams of water ran in every direction, and the lively noise of the men intermingled with the gray splash of the water. Before, the boy never bothered the sailors in this playful and light work; nay, he took an active part, besprinkling them with water and laughingly running away, when they threatened to pour water over him. But after Yako

eel lonesome on the steamer, and amid the parti-coloured mist of new impressions, still more often there came up before Foma the image of his kind and gentle Aunt Anfisa, with her stories, and smiles, and soft, ringing laughter, which filled the boy’s soul with a joyous warmth. He still lived in the world of fairy-tales, but the invisible and pitiless hand of reality was already at work tearin

ood, and one of them, the young, curly-haired and gay Yefim, passi

one’s business is clear — but to carry wood into the bargain — thank you! That means for me to take of

wood on his stretcher than the others, and walked faster than the others. None of the sailors replied to Yefim’s grumbling, and even the o

morosely, “you are not l

cart — cart it and don’t kick — and should your bl

up to the sailor and, stopping

you talki

efim, hesitating. “There was no ag

uck blood?” asked Igna

way out of it, he let the log of wood fall from his hands, rubbed his

right? Don’t

I

ou

ng from his bruised face on to the white bark of the birch wood; he wiped the blood off his face with the sleeve of his shirt, looked at his sleeve and, heaving a sigh,

d now and then glanced at his

wn?” asked his

ro

Be careful. If there

” said Foma of a

God has favoured

exclaimed the boy in a lo

outh, but his hand stopped, held back by his son’s exclamation

Yefim, d

he walked afterward, how he cri

ewing a bite. “Well, a

aid Foma, with t

kind of a fellow y

a wineglass with vodka, emptied it, and sa

a bit foolish. But to argue is not his business; I may argue, because I am the master. It isn’t simple to be master. A punch wouldn’t kill him, but will make him wi

le, drank some more vodka

His name in vain, in order to move fools to pity, and, thus pitied, to fill their bellies with something. They live but for their bellies, and aside from eating, drinking, sleeping and moaning they can do nothing. And all they accomplish is the soul’s decay. They are in your way and you trip over them. A good man among them — like fresh apples among bad ones — may soon be spoilt, and no one will profit by it. You are young, that’s the trouble. You cannot comprehend my words. Help him who is firm in misery. He may not ask you for assistance, but think of it yourself, and assist him without his request. And if he should happen to be proud and thus feel offended at your aid, do not allow him to see that you are lending him a helping hand. That’s the way it should be done, according to common sense! Here, for example, two boards, let us say, fall into the mud — one of them is a rotten one, the other, a good sound boar

boy listened to his words, looked at him and felt as though his father were coming nearer and nearer to him. And though his father’s story did not contain the material of which Aunt Anfisa’s fairy-tales were brimful, there was something new in it, something clearer and more comprehensible than in her fairy-tales, and something just as interesting. Someth

ice, “My darling! My joy! Learn while

whisper; he set his teeth together,

week, or possibly the entire summer. And yet Foma did not even notice his absence, so absorbed was he by his love for Aunt Anfisa. When Ignat returned the boy was glad, but he could hardly tell whether it was his father’s arrival that gladdened him or the playthings he brought with him. But now, at the sight of Igna

l me about

. . . . . . . .

the distance, small lights glimmering fantastically: the water about the boat black and thick, like oil — and nothing else could be seen. The boy’s heart trembled painfully and he began to listen attentively. A scarcely audible, melancholy song reached his ears — mournful and monotonous as a chant on the caravan the watchmen called to one another; the steamer hissed angrily getting up

came from the distance

eck and went up to th

ard again, but

led in a low voice on

el

up! Take the

by, and Foma, shuddering, s

in strength, sobbed and died out in the darkne

up! A guest

out the deck, a bustle was heard, and two boat-hooks slipped down

sob near by, and a quiet, but

ful cry, but he could not tear his hands f

tern. You can’

rec

t the water was rocking calmly, that a ripple was passing over

y whispered on th

ether, appeared on the spot of light. It floated and rocked in the wa

y, it is col

air, were lowered again into the water an

ok out, he may be thr

im yours

rinding of teeth. Foma could not close his eyes for watching them. The noise of feet stamping on the deck,

ue-e

oice. “Papa!” His father jumped t

t are they doing t

bounds. He soon returned, sooner than Foma, staggering a

ing!” said Ignat, taking him up

?” asked Fo

was drowned and he is floating. That’s nothing! D

he boy, firmly pressing close to his fa

it, there would be trouble, inquests, and we would be held here for examination. That’s why we shoved him along. What difference does

l float on

’ll take him out som

a fish d

n bodies. Crabs eat t

ather’s body, but before his eyes the terrible sn

who i

od about him: ‘0h Lo

oul!” repeated Fo

Floating on. See here, be careful as you go up to the si

fall ove

ere are people who do that. They go and throw themselves into the water and are drowned. Life, my d

ap

sleep,