The Man Who Was Afraid | Page 8

home; when guests came to her house, she zealously served them
refreshments, taking no interest whatever in what was said, and
showing preference toward none. Only Mayakin, a witty, droll man, at

times called forth on her face a smile, as vague as a shadow. He used to
say of her:
"It's a tree--not a woman! But life is like an inextinguishable wood-pile,
and every one of us blazes up sometimes. She, too, will take fire; wait,
give her time. Then we shall see how she will bloom."
"Eh!" Ignat used to say to her jestingly. "What are you thinking about?
Are you homesick? Brighten up a bit!"
She would remain silent, calmly looking at him.
"You go entirely too often to the church. You should wait. You have
plenty of time to pray for your sins. Commit the sins first. You know, if
you don't sin you don't repent; if you don't repent, you don't work out
your salvation. You better sin while you are young. Shall we go out for
a drive?"
"I don't feel like going out."
He used to sit down beside her and embrace her. She was cold,
returning his caresses but sparingly. Looking straight into her eyes, he
used to say:
"Natalya! Tell me--why are you so sad? Do you feel lonesome here
with me?"
"No," she replied shortly.
"What then is it? Are you longing for your people?"
No, it's nothing."
"What are you thinking about?"
"I am not thinking."
"What then?"

"Oh, nothing!"
Once he managed to get from her a more complete answer:
"There is something confused in my heart. And also in my eyes. And it
always seems to me that all this is not real."
She waved her hand around her, pointing at the walls, the furniture and
everything. Ignat did not reflect on her words, and, laughing, said to
her:
"That's to no purpose! Everything here is genuine. All these are costly,
solid things. If you don't want these, I'll burn them, I'll sell them, I'll
give them away--and I'll get new ones! Do you want me to?"
"What for?" said she calmly.
He wondered, at last, how one so young and healthy could live as
though she were sleeping all the time, caring for nothing, going
nowhere, except to the church, and shunning everybody. And he used
to console her:
"Just wait. You'll bear a son, and then an altogether different life will
commence. You are so sad because you have so little anxiety, and he
will give you trouble. You'll bear me a son, will you not?
"If it pleases God," she answered, lowering her head.
Then her mood began to irritate him.
"Well, why do you wear such a long face? You walk as though on glass.
You look as if you had ruined somebody's soul! Eh! You are such a
succulent woman, and yet you have no taste for anything. Fool!"
Coming home intoxicated one day, he began to ply her with caresses,
while she turned away from him. Then he grew angry, and exclaimed:
"Natalya! Don't play the fool, look out!"

She turned her face to him and asked calmly:
"What then?"
Ignat became enraged at these words and at her fearless look.
"What?" he roared, coming up close to her.
"Do you wish to kill me?" asked she, not moving from her place, nor
winking an eye.
Ignat was accustomed to seeing people tremble before his wrath, and it
was strange and offensive to him to see her calm.
"There," he cried, lifting his hand to strike her. Slowly, but in time, she
eluded the blow; then she seized his hand, pushed it away from her, and
said in the same tone:
"Don't you dare to touch me. I will not allow you to come near me!"
Her eyes became smaller and their sharp, metallic glitter sobered Ignat.
He understood by her face that she, too, was a strong beast, and if she
chose to she wouldn't admit him to her, even though she were to lose
her life.
"Oh," he growled, and went away.
But having retreated once, he would not do it again: he could not bear
that a woman, and his wife at that, should not bow before him-- this
would have degraded him. He then began to realise that henceforth his
wife would never yield to him in any matter, and that an obstinate strife
for predominance must start between them.
"Very well! We'll see who will conquer," he thought the next day,
watching his wife with stern curiosity; and in his soul a strong desire
was already raging to start the strife, that he might enjoy his victory the
sooner.
But about four days later, Natalya Fominichna announced to her

husband that she was pregnant.
Ignat trembled for joy, embraced her