Creatures That Once Were Men | Page 9

teacher had once taught at an institution in one of the towns on the
Volga, but in consequence of some story was dismissed. After this he
was a clerk in a tannery, but again had to leave. Then he became a
librarian in some private library, subsequently following other
professions. Finally, after passing examinations in law he became a
lawyer, but drink reduced him to the Captain's dosshouse. He was tall,
round-shouldered, with a long, sharp nose and bald head. In his bony
and yellow face, on which grew a wedge-shaped beard, shone large,
restless eyes, deeply sunk in their sockets, and the corners of his mouth
drooped sadly down. He earned his bread, or rather his drink, by
reporting for the local papers. He sometimes earned as much as fifteen

roubles. These he gave to the Captain and said:
"It is enough. I am going back into the bosom of culture. Another
week's hard work and I shall dress respectably, and then Addio, mio
caro!"
"Very exemplary! As I heartily sympathize with your decision, Philip, I
shall not give you another glass all this week," the Captain warned him
sternly.
"I shall be thankful! . . . You will not give me one drop?"
The Captain beard in his voice a beseeching note to which he turned a
deaf ear.
"Even though you roar, I shall not give it you!"
"As you like, then," sighed the teacher, and went away to continue his
reporting.
But after a day or two he would return tired and thirsty, and would look
at the Captain with a beseeching glance out of the corners of his eyes,
hoping that his friend's heart would soften.
The Captain in such cases put on a serious face and began speaking
with killing irony on the theme of weakness of character, of the animal
delight of intoxication, and on such subjects as suited the occasion. One
must do him justice: he was captivated by his role of mentor and
moralist, but the lodgers dogged him, and, listening sceptically to his
exhortations to repentance, would whisper aside to each other:
"Cunning, skilful, shifty rogue! I told you so, but you would not listen.
It's your own fault!"
"His honor is really a good soldier. He goes first and examines the road
behind him!"
The teacher then hunted here and there till he found his friend again in
some corner, and grasping his dirty coat, trembling and licking his dry

lips, looked into his face with a deep, tragic glance, without articulate
words.
"Can't you?" asked the Captain sullenly.
The teacher answered by bowing his head and letting it fall on his
breast, his tall, thin body trembling the while.
"Wait another day . . . perhaps you will be all right then," proposed
Kuvalda. The teacher sighed, and shook his head hopelessly.
The Captain saw that his friend's thin body trembled with the thirst for
the poison, and took some money from his pocket.
"In the majority of cases it is impossible to fight against fate," said he,
as if trying to justify himself before someone.
But if the teacher controlled himself for a whole week, then there was a
touching farewell scene between the two friends, which ended as a rule
in the eating-house of Vaviloff. The teacher did not spend all his
money, but spent at least half on the children of the main street. The
poor are always rich in children, and in the dirt and ditches of this street
there were groups of them from morning to night, hungry, naked and
dirty. Children are the living flowers of the earth, but these had the
appearance of flowers that have faded prematurely, because they grew
in ground where there was no healthy nourishment. Often the teacher
would gather them round him, would buy them bread, eggs, apples and
nuts, and take them into the fields by the river side. There they would
sit and greedily eat everything he offered them, after which they would
begin to play, filling the fields for a mile around with careless noise and
laughter. The tall, thin figure of the drunkard towered above these small
people, who treated him familiarly, as if he were one of their own age.
They called him "Philip," and did not trouble to prefix "Uncle" to his
name. Playing around him, like little wild animals, they pushed him,
jumped upon his back, beat him upon his bald head, and caught hold of
his nose. All this must have pleased him, as he did not protest against
such liberties. He spoke very little to them, and when he did so he did it
cautiously as if afraid that his words would hurt or contaminate them.

He passed many hours thus as their companion and plaything, watching
their lively faces