Creatures That Once Were Men | Page 8

for salvation. Go to the river and
work, and if you think you cannot control yourself, tell the contractor,
your employer, to keep your money, or else give it to me. When you
get sufficient capital, I will get you a pair of trousers and other things
necessary to make you seem a respectable and hard-working man,
persecuted by fate. With decent-looking trousers you can go far. Now
then, be off!"
Then the client would go to the river to work as a porter, smiling the
while over the Captain's long and wise speeches. He did not distinctly
understand them, but only saw in front of him two merry eyes, felt their
encouraging influence, and knew that in the loquacious Captain he had
an arm that would assist him in time of need.
And really it happened very often that, for a month or so, some
ticket-of-leave client, under the strict surveillance of the Captain, had
the opportunity of raising himself to a condition better than that to
which, thanks to the Captain's cooperation, he had fallen.

"Now, then, my friend!" said the Captain, glancing critically at the
restored client, "we have a coat and jacket. When I had respectable
trousers I lived in town like a respectable man. But when the trousers
wore out, I, too, fell off in the opinion of my fellow-men and had to
come down here from the town. Men, my fine mannikin, judge
everything by the outward appearance, while, owing to their
foolishness, the actual reality of things is incomprehensible to them.
Make a note of this on your nose, and pay me at least half your debt.
Go in peace; seek, and you may find."
"How much do I owe you, Aristid Fomich?" asks the client, in
confusion.
"One rouble and 70 kopecks . . . Now, give me only one rouble, or, if
you like, 70 kopecks, and as for the rest, I shall wait until you have
earned more than you have now by stealing or by hard work, it does not
matter to me."
"I thank you humbly for your kindness!" says the client, touched to the
heart. "Truly you are a kind man . . .; Life has persecuted you in
vain . . . What an eagle you would have been in your own place!"
The Captain could not live without eloquent speeches.
"What does 'in my own place' mean? No one really knows his own
place in life, and every one of us crawls into his harness. The place of
the merchant Judas Petunikoff ought to be in penal servitude, but he
still walks through the streets in daylight, and even intends to build a
factory. The place of our teacher ought to be beside a wife and
half-a-dozen children, but he is loitering in the public-house of
Vaviloff.
"And then, there is yourself. You are going to seek a situation as a hall
porter or waiter, but I can see that you ought to be a soldier in the army,
because you are no fool, are patient and understand discipline. Life
shuffles us like cards, you see, and it is only accidentally, and only for
a time, that we fall into our own places!"

Such farewell speeches often served as a preface to the continuation of
their acquaintance, which again began with drinking and went so far
that the client would spend his last farthing. Then the Captain would
stand him treat, and they would drink all they had.
A repetition of similar doings did not affect in the least the good
relations of the parties.
The teacher mentioned by the Captain was another of those customers
who were thus reformed only in order that they should sin again.
Thanks to his intellect, he was the nearest in rank to the Captain, and
this was probably the cause of his falling so low as dosshouse life, and
of his inability to rise again. It was only with him that Aristid Kuvalda
could philosophize with the certainty of being understood. He valued
this, and when the reformed teacher prepared to leave the dosshouse in
order to get a corner in town for himself, then Aristid Kuvalda
accompanied him so sorrowfully and sadly that it ended, as a rule, in
their both getting drunk and spending all their money. Probably
Kuvalda arranged the matter intentionally so that the teacher could not
leave the dosshouse, though he desired to do so with all his heart. Was
it possible for Aristid Kuvalda, a nobleman (as was evident from his
speeches), one who was accustomed to think, though the turn of fate
may have changed his position, was it possible for him not to desire to
have close to him a man like himself? We can pity our own faults in
others.
This