A Desperate Character | Page 5

to sell
such a fine estate for next to nothing....'
'God I fear always, and do not forget,' he broke in.... 'But He is good,
you know--God is.... He will forgive! And I am good too.... I have
never yet hurt any one in my life. And drink is good too; and as for
hurting,... it never hurt any one either. And my get-up is quite the most
correct thing.... Uncle, would you like me to show you I can walk
straight? Or to do a little dance?'
'Oh, spare me, please! A dance, indeed! You'd better sit down.'
'As to that, I'll sit down with pleasure.... But why do you say nothing of
my greys? Just look at them, they're perfect lions! I've got them on hire

for the time, but I shall buy them for certain, ... and the coachman too....
It's ever so much cheaper to have one's own horses. And I had the
money, but I lost it yesterday at faro. It's no matter, I'll make it up
to-morrow. Uncle, ... how about that little glass?'
I was still unable to get over my amazement. 'Really, Misha, how old
are you? You ought not to be thinking about horses or cards, ... but
going into the university or the service.'
Misha first laughed again, then gave vent to a prolonged whistle.
'Well, uncle, I see you're in a melancholy humour to-day. I'll come back
another time. But I tell you what: you come in the evening to Sokolniki.
I've a tent pitched there. The gypsies sing, ... such goings-on.... And
there's a streamer on the tent, and on the streamer, written in large
letters: "The Troupe of Poltyev's Gypsies." The streamer coils like a
snake, the letters are of gold, attractive for every one to read. A free
entertainment--whoever likes to come! ... No refusal! I'm making the
dust fly in Moscow ... to my glory! ... Eh? will you come? Ah, I've one
girl there ... a serpent! Black as your boot, spiteful as a dog, and eyes ...
like living coals! One can never tell what she's going to do--kiss or
bite! ... Will you come, uncle? ... Well, good-bye, till we meet!'
And with a sudden embrace, and a smacking kiss on my shoulder,
Misha darted away into the courtyard, and into the carriage, waved his
cap over his head, hallooed,--the monstrous coachman leered at him
over his beard, the greys dashed off, and all vanished!
The next day I--like a sinner--set off to Sokolniki, and did actually see
the tent with the streamer and the inscription. The drapery of the tent
was raised; from it came clamour, creaking, and shouting. Crowds of
people were thronging round it. On a carpet spread on the ground sat
gypsies, men and women, singing and beating drums, and in the midst
of them, in a red silk shirt and velvet breeches, was Misha, holding a
guitar, dancing a jig. 'Gentlemen! honoured friends! walk in, please!
the performance is just beginning! Free to all!' he was shouting in a
high, cracked voice. 'Hey! champagne! pop! a pop on the head! pop up
to the ceiling! Ha! you rogue there, Paul de Kock!'

Luckily he did not see me, and I hastily made off.
I won't enlarge on my astonishment at the spectacle of this
transformation. But, how was it actually possible for that quiet and
modest boy to change all at once into a drunken buffoon? Could it all
have been latent in him from childhood, and have come to the surface
directly the yoke of his parents' control was removed? But that he had
made the dust fly in Moscow, as he expressed it--of that, certainly,
there could be no doubt. I have seen something of riotous living in my
day; but in this there was a sort of violence, a sort of frenzy of
self-destruction, a sort of desperation!

III
For two months these diversions continued.... And once more I was
standing at my drawing-room window, looking into the courtyard.... All
of a sudden--what could it mean? ... there came slowly stepping in at
the gate a pilgrim ... a squash hat pulled down on his forehead, his hair
combed out straight to right and left below it, a long gown, a leather
belt ... Could it be Misha? He it was!
I went to meet him on the steps.... 'What's this masquerade for?' I
demanded.
'It's not a masquerade, uncle,' Misha answered with a deep sigh: since
all I had I've squandered to the last farthing--and a great repentance too
has come upon me--so I have resolved to go to the Sergiev monastery
of the Holy Trinity to expiate my sins in prayer. For what refuge was
left me? ... And so I have come