A Reckless Character | Page 3

hurriedly and at the same time as though half asleep.
"Good mercy, M��sha!"--I shouted: "Have the fear of God before thine eyes! How dreadful is thine aspect, in what a condition thou art! And thou wishest another drink! And to sell such a fine estate for a song!..."
"I always fear God and remember him," he caught me up.--"And he 's good--God, I mean.... He'll forgive! And I also am good.... I have never injured any one in my life as yet. And a drink is good also; and as for hurting ... it won't hurt anybody, either. And as for my looks, they are all right.... If thou wishest, uncle, I'll walk a line on the floor. Or shall I dance a bit?"
"Akh, please drop that!--What occasion is there for dancing? Thou hadst better sit down."
"I don't mind sitting down.... But why don't you say something about my greys? Just look at them, they're regular lions! I'm hiring them for the time being, but I shall certainly buy them together with the coachman. It is incomparably cheaper to own one's horses. And I did have the money, but I dropped it last night at faro.--Never mind, I'll retrieve my fortunes to-morrow. Uncle ... how about that drink?"
I still could not collect myself.--"Good gracious! M��sha, how old art thou? Thou shouldst not be occupying thyself with horses, or with gambling ... thou shouldst enter the university or the service."
M��sha first roared with laughter again, then he emitted a prolonged whistle.
"Well, uncle, I see that thou art in a melancholy frame of mind just now. I'll call another time.--But see here: just look in at Sok��lniki[6] some evening. I have pitched my tent there. The Gipsies sing.... Well, well! One can hardly restrain himself! And on the tent there is a pennant, and on the pennant is written in bi-i-ig letters: 'The Band of Polt��va[7] Gipsies.' The pennant undulates like a serpent; the letters are gilded; any one can easily read them. The entertainment is whatever any one likes!... They refuse nothing. It has kicked up a dust all over Moscow ... my respects.... Well? Will you come? I've got a Gipsy there--a regular asp! Black as my boot, fierce as a dog, and eyes ... regular coals of fire! One can't possibly make out whether she is kissing or biting.... Will you come, uncle?... Well, farewell for the present!"
And abruptly embracing me and kissing me with a smack on my shoulder, M��sha darted out into the court to his calash, waving his cap over his head, and uttering a yell; the monstrous coachman[8] bestowed upon him an oblique glance across his beard, the trotters dashed forward, and all disappeared!
On the following day, sinful man that I am, I did go to Sok��lniki, and actually did see the tent with the pennant and the inscription. The tent-flaps were raised; an uproar, crashing, squealing, proceeded thence. A crowd of people thronged around it. On the ground, on an outspread rug, sat the Gipsy men and Gipsy women, singing, and thumping tambourines; and in the middle of them, with a guitar in his hands, clad in a red-silk shirt and full trousers of velvet, M��sha was gyrating like a whirligig.--"Gentlemen! Respected sirs! Pray enter! The performance is about to begin! Free!"--he was shouting in a cracked voice.--"Hey there! Champagne! Bang! In the forehead! On the ceiling! Akh, thou rascal, Paul de Kock!"--Luckily, he did not catch sight of me, and I hastily beat a retreat.
I shall not dilate, gentlemen, on my amazement at the sight of such a change. And, as a matter of fact, how could that peaceable, modest lad suddenly turn into a tipsy good-for-nothing? Was it possible that all this had been concealed within him since his childhood, and had immediately come to the surface as soon as the weight of parental authority had been removed from him?--And that he had kicked up a dust in Moscow, as he had expressed it, there could be no possible doubt, either. I had seen rakes in my day; but here something frantic, some frenzy of self-extermination, some sort of recklessness, had made itself manifest!

III
This diversion lasted for two months.... And lo! again I am standing at the window of the drawing-room and looking out into the courtyard.... Suddenly--what is this?... Through the gate with quiet step enters a novice.... His conical cap is pulled down on his brow, his hair is combed smoothly and flows from under it to right and left ... he wears a long cassock and a leather girdle.... Can it be M��sha? It is!
I go out on the steps to meet him.... "What is the meaning of this masquerade?" I ask.
"It is not a masquerade, uncle," M��sha answers me, with a deep sigh;--"but as I have squandered all my property