The Man Who Was Afraid

r, his hands thrust deep into his pockets, he walked for a few hours in succession about the deserted rooms of his house, he sternly knitted his brow, and constantly threw his

angel!” Pelageya vividly arose in his memor

hypocrite. She at once unfolded her soul and her body, and

ould whisper tim

at was said of

rished. He set his teeth more firmly together and threw his chest still more forward. Evil thoughts l

individual deadened the spite he owed the woman, and the thought of the woman’s accessibility increased his passion for her. And somehow, without perceiving it himself, he suddenly understood and resolved that he ought to go up to Sophya

d to his visits, and to his question whet

e drawing-room. Sh

almly floating to meet him; they seemed to burst into quiet, cheerless laughter, complaining of something, tenderly stirring the heart, as though imploring it for attention and having no hopes of getting it. Foma did not like to hear music — it always filled him with sadness. Even when the “machine” in the tavern played

inside of the drawing- room from Foma’s eyes. Seated on a couch in her favourite corner, Medinskaya played the mandolin. A large Japanese umbrella, fastened up to the wall, shaded the little woman in black by its mixture of colours; the high bronze lamp under a red lamp-shade cast on her the light o

ce was forever changing as though shadows were falling on

the expression of kindness and gentleness, they had a rather tired and weary look. And her pose, too, was weary, as if the woman were about to stir but could not. Foma

arting with alarm. And the strings

, pushing aside the

I am glad to see you. Be seated! Why

with the other at a small armchair besi

mers,” said Foma, with exaggerated ease,

h snow yet on

already melting considerably. Ther

behaviour and something new in his smile, for she adjusted her dress and d

ghtfully, examining the r

here.” Foma informed h

od. Spring

’t be dela

edinskaya, softly, as if liste

aid Foma, with a smile, and for some r

yourself?” asked

been ready long ago. I am alr

arted to play again, looking at

beginning to live. The heart is full of

Foma, softly.She interrupted

tedly finds there something long forgotten. For years it lay somewhere in the depth of his heart, but lost none of the fragrance of youth, and when memory

r sounds and the soft voice of the woman were touching his heart gently and caressingly. But,

I won’t believe an

orry that he could not listen to her word

ow it is necessary to

!” said Foma and smiled. “And then, what is there to think of? It is sim

be very hard for you to get along in life. I am sure, you will not go along the usual way of the people of your circle. No! You cannot be pleased with a life w

ook of alarm in her eyes. L

she dri

swered he

sire for something else.

, she looked into his fa

le! Arrange your life somehow differentl

laimed Foma, feeling that he was seized with agitation

rth it is worse for the good people than

touch of her fingers. Foma felt that if he did not start to s

self, and in a lowered voice,

first you have attracted me to yourself, and now you are fencing away from me. I cannot understand what you say. My mi

his voice became warmer and louder. She m

cea

n’t, I wi

at you wan

eateningly, rising to his feet. “But I

r it is for me,” sai

red, and Foma could not see their expression. He thought that when he told her, “I know everything about you!” she would be frightened, she would feel ashamed and confused, would ask his forgiveness for having

erything, have you? And, of course, you’ve censured me, as I deserve.

her hands with a nervous gesture, claspe

ope — a hope, whose presence in his heart he only felt now that

ght, ‘How beautiful she is, how good, the dove!

broke down. And the wom

ou are, and what a pity that y

had in his heart against her, was now melting before the warm light of her eyes. The woman now seemed to him small, defenseless, lik

d yet I said nothing. I don’t feel like doing it. My heart sank. You are breathing upon me so strangel

lready an old woman. I am forever worrying. My life is so empty and so weary, so empty! Do you know, when a person has grown accustomed to live merrily, and then cannot be merry, he feels bad! He desires to live cheerfully, he desires to laugh, yet he does not laugh

d, and her words came incoherently hurriedly one after another. A pitifu

it! Oh, if you knew how hard it is to live. Man goes so far that he begins to fear his own self. He is split into judge and criminal — he judges his own self and seeks j

d and said distrust

d what it is! Lubov

v? What doe

— she is forever complaining of life.

t is a great happiness that

ngly. “It must be a fine happiness

complaints of men. Oh! There is more wisdom in these complaints than an

th pictures and shelves, bright and beautiful objects were staring from every corner. The reddish light of the lamp filled one with melancholy. Twilight wrapped everything in the room, and only here and there the gold of the frames, or

r before did anybody awaken in me so warm and kindred a feeling as you have done

her and sai

w. I used to

” she ask

en understand myself. On my way to you I knew what to say, and here all is confused. You have put me up on

sorry for you!” the w

e went on speaking to her, his words became absurd. While he spoke, he ke

d to be dumb. But — I would have told you! You did not treat me prope

by my side,” said the woma

t hear th

e this to deceive the eye, to justify yourself. You do some mischief, you lose yourself in different inventions and foolishnesses and then you sigh! Ah, life! Oh, life! And have you not done it yourself? And covering yourself with complaints, you confuse others. You have lost your way

words came freely from his heart, he spoke not loud, but with power and pleasure. Her head raised, the woman stared

of you they say things.” Foma’s voice broke down;

odb

said Medins

dy at the door he felt that he was sorry for her, and he glanced at her across his shou

ve her thus, he became confused, an

e — forgive me! For after all I lo

t into soft, n

ot offended me.

!” repeated Foma in

the woman, also

s cheeks. He shuddered at this cold touch and went out, carrying away a heavy, perplexed fee

the sidewalk, he broke these with his cane, and they cracked mournfully. The shadows of the houses fell on the road in black squar

ing to himself the woman, alone, in the corne

g across a moonlit strip, the noise was louder and more brisk, and in the shadows it was heavier and duller. The driver and the passenger in it were shaking and hopping about; for some reason or other they both bent forward and together with the horse formed one big, black mass. The street was speckled with spots of light and shade, but in the distance the darkness seemed thick as though the street were fenced off by a wall, rising from earth to the skies. Somehow i

t to get married,” tho

ven though he did not like it. And if he should tell her: “Go away, I don’t want it,” she would feel offended. What would he speak to her about? What would she tell him? He thought and pictured to himself young ladies of his acquaintance, daughters of merchants. Some of them were very pretty, and he knew that any one of them would marry him willingly. But he did not care to have any of them as his wife. How awkward and shameful it must be when a girl becomes a wife. And what d

t deal, always spoke to him of life. His father, his aunt, his godfather, Lubov, Sophya Pavlovna, all these either taught him to understand life, or complained of it. He recalled th

an always speaks as if life were something else, something outside of m

d. The street was deserted and quiet; the dark windows of the houses stared dimly

at there was a cold breath behind him, and that something huge, invisible, and terrible was overtaking him. Frightened, he almost ran to meet