two days later saw Karl Ivanitch forced to retire in favour of the young
Frenchman referred to.
VIII. KARL IVANITCH'S HISTORY
THE evening before the day when Karl was to leave us for ever, he was
standing (clad, as usual, in his wadded dressing-gown and red cap)
near the bed in his room, and bending down over a trunk as he carefully
packed his belongings.
His behaviour towards us had been very cool of late, and he had seemed
to shrink from all contact with us. Consequently, when I entered his
room on the present occasion, he only glanced at me for a second and
then went on with his occupation. Even though I proceeded to jump on
to his bed (a thing hitherto always forbidden me to do), he said not
a word; and the idea that he would soon be scolding or forgiving us no
longer--no longer having anything to do with us--reminded me vividly of
the impending separation. I felt grieved to think that he had ceased to
love us and wanted to show him my grief.
"Will you let me help you?" I said, approaching him.
He looked at me for a moment and turned away again. Yet the expression
of pain in his eyes showed that his coldness was not the result of
indifference, but rather of sincere and concentrated sorrow.
"God sees and knows everything," he said at length, raising himself to
his full height and drawing a deep sigh. "Yes, Nicolinka," he went on,
observing, the expression of sincere pity on my face, "my fate has been
an unhappy one from the cradle, and will continue so to the grave. The
good that I have done to people has always been repaid with evil; yet,
though I shall receive no reward here, I shall find one THERE" (he
pointed upwards). "Ah, if only you knew my whole story, and all that I
have endured in this life!--I who have been a bootmaker, a soldier, a
deserter, a factory hand, and a teacher! Yet now--now I am nothing, and,
like the Son of Man, have nowhere to lay my head." Sitting down upon a
chair, he covered his eyes with his hand.
Seeing that he was in the introspective mood in which a man pays
no attention to his listener as he cons over his secret thoughts, I
remained silent, and, seating myself upon the bed, continued to watch
his kind face.
"You are no longer a child. You can understand things now, and I will
tell you my whole story and all that I have undergone. Some day, my
children, you may remember the old friend who loved you so much--"
He leant his elbow upon the table by his side, took a pinch of snuff,
and, in the peculiarly measured, guttural tone in which he used to
dictate us our lessons, began the story of his career.
Since he many times in later years repeated the whole to me
again--always in the same order, and with the same expressions and
the same unvarying intonation--I will try to render it literally, and
without omitting the innumerable grammatical errors into which he always
strayed when speaking in Russian. Whether it was really the history of
his life, or whether it was the mere product of his imagination--that
is to say, some narrative which he had conceived during his lonely
residence in our house, and had at last, from endless repetition, come
to believe in himself--or whether he was adorning with imaginary facts
the true record of his career, I have never quite been able to make
out. On the one hand, there was too much depth of feeling and practical
consistency in its recital for it to be wholly incredible, while, on the
other hand, the abundance of poetical beauty which it contained tended
to raise doubts in the mind of the listener.
"Me vere very unhappy from ze time of my birth," he began with a
profound sigh. "Ze noble blot of ze Countess of Zomerblat flows in my
veins. Me vere born six veek after ze vetting. Ze man of my Mutter (I
called him 'Papa') vere farmer to ze Count von Zomerblat. He coult not
forget my Mutter's shame, ant loaft me not. I had a youngster broser
Johann ant two sister, pot me vere strange petween my own family. Ven
Johann mate several silly trick Papa sayt, 'Wit sis chilt Karl I am
never to have one moment tranquil!' and zen he scoltet and ponishet me.
Ven ze sister quarrellet among zemselves Papa sayt, 'Karl vill never
be one opedient poy,' ant still scoltet ant ponishet me. My goot Mamma
alone loaft ant tenteret me. Often she sayt to me, 'Karl, come in my
room,' ant zere she kisset me secretly. 'Poorly, poorly Karl!' she sayt.
'Nopoty loaf you, pot I will not exchange you for somepoty in ze worlt,
One zing your Mutter pegs you, to rememper,' sayt she to me, 'learn
vell, ant be efer one honest man; zen Got will not forsake you.' Ant
I triet so to become. Ven my fourteen year hat expiret, ant me coult
partake of ze Holy Sopper, my Mutter sayt to my Vater, 'Karl is one
pig poy now, Kustaf. Vat shall we do wis him?' Ant Papa sayt, 'Me ton't
know.' Zen Mamma sayt, 'Let us give him to town at Mister Schultzen's,
and he may pea Schumacher,' ant my Vater sayt, 'Goot!' Six year ant
seven mons livet I in town wis ze Mister Shoemaker, ant he loaft me.
He sayt, 'Karl are one goot vorkman, ant shall soon become my Geselle.'
Pot-man makes ze proposition, ant Got ze deposition. In ze year 1796
one conscription took place, ant each which vas serviceable, from ze
eighteens to ze twenty-first year, hat to go to town.
"My Fater and my broser Johann come to town, ant ve go togezer to throw
ze lot for which shoult pe Soldat. Johann drew ze fatal nomper, and me
vas not necessary to pe Soldat. Ant Papa sayt, 'I have only vun son, ant
wis him I must now separate!'
"Den I take his hant, ant says, 'Why say you so, Papa? Come wis me,
ant I will say you somesing.' Ant Papa come, ant we seat togezer at ze
publics-house, ant me sayt, 'Vaiter, give us one Bierkrug,' ant he gives
us one. We trink altogezer, and broser Johann also trink. 'Papa,' sayt
me, 'ton't say zat you have only one son, ant wis it you must separate,
My heart was breaking ven you say sis. Broser Johann must not serve;
ME shall pe Soldat. Karl is for nopoty necessary, and Karl shall pe
Soldat.'
"'You is one honest man, Karl,' sayt Papa, ant kiss me. Ant me was
Soldat."
IX. CONTINUATION OF KARL'S NARRATIVE
"Zat was a terrible time, Nicolinka," continued Karl Ivanitch, "ze
time of Napoleon. He vanted to conquer Germany, ant we protected
our Vaterland to ze last trop of plot. Me vere at Ulm, me vere at
Austerlitz, me vere at Wagram."
"Did you really fight?" I asked with a gaze of astonishment "Did you
really kill anybody?"
Karl instantly reassured me on this point,
"Vonce one French grenadier was left behint, ant fell to ze grount.
I sprang forvarts wis my gon, ant vere about to kill him, aber der
Franzose warf sein Gewehr hin und rief, 'Pardon'--ant I let him loose.
"At Wagram, Napoleon cut us open, ant surrountet us in such a way as
zere vas no helping. Sree days hat we no provisions, ant stoot in
ze vater op to ze knees. Ze evil Napoleon neiser let us go loose nor
catchet us.
"On ze fours day zey took us prisoners--zank Got! ant sent us to one
fortress. Upon me vas one blue trousers, uniforms of very goot clos,
fifteen of Thalers, ant one silver clock which my Vater hat given me,
Ze Frans Soldaten took from me everysing. For my happiness zere vas