“And were you paid much at the office?”
“Eh, I was a supernumerary! The old man supported me himself—I told you he’s kind; but even so we won’t yield. Of course, twenty-five roubles is no great prosperity, but I soon hope to take part in managing the disordered estates of Count Zavileisky, and then I’ll go straight up to three thousand; or else I’ll become a lawyer. They’re looking for people now… Hah! what thunder, there’ll be a storm, it’s a good thing I managed before the storm; I came from there on foot, running most of the way.”
“But, excuse me, in that case when did you manage to talk with Nadezhda Fedoseevna—if, on top of that, you’re not received there?”
“Ah, but that can be done over the fence! You did notice the little redhead today?” he laughed. “Well, she took care of it, and so did Marya Nikitishna; only this Marya Nikitishna is a serpent!… why did you wince? You’re not afraid of thunder?”
“No, I’m unwell, very unwell…” Velchaninov was indeed suffering from his unexpected pain in the chest, got up from his chair, and tried to pace the room.
“Ah, then naturally I’m bothering you—don’t worry, I’ll leave at once!” and the youth jumped up from his place.
“You’re not bothering me, it’s nothing,” said the delicate Velchaninov.
“How is it nothing, when ‘Kobylnikov has a stomachache’—remember in Shchedrin? 14Do you like Shchedrin?”
“Yes…”
“So do I. Well, Vassily… no, what’s your name, Pavel Pavlovich, let’s finish, sir!” he addressed Pavel Pavlovich, almost laughing. “I’ll formulate the question once more for your understanding: do you agree to renounce tomorrow, officially, in front of the old folks and in my presence, all your claims regarding Nadezhda Fedoseevna?”
“I don’t agree at all, sir,” Pavel Pavlovich also rose with an impatient and embittered look, “and with that I ask you once more to spare me, sir… because all this is childish and silly, sir.”
“Watch out!” the youth shook his finger at him with a haughty smile, “don’t make a mistake in your calculations! Do you know what such a mistake may lead to? And I warn you that in nine months, when you’ve spent everything there, worn yourself out, and come back—you’ll be forced to renounce Nadezhda Fedoseevna here, and if you don’t renounce her—so much the worse for you; that’s what you’ll bring things to! I must warn you that you are now like the dog in the manger—excuse me, it’s just a comparison—none for yourself, none for anyone else. I repeat out of humaneness: reflect, force yourself to reflect well for at least once in your life.”
“I beg you to spare me your morals,” Pavel Pavlovich shouted fiercely, “and as for your nasty hints, I’ll take my measures tomorrow—severe measures, sir!”
“Nasty hints? What are you referring to? You’re nasty yourself, if that’s what’s in your head. However, I agree to wait until tomorrow, but if… Ah, again this thunder! Goodbye, very glad to have met you,” he nodded to Velchaninov and ran, evidently hurrying to keep ahead of the thunderstorm and not get caught in the rain.
XV
ACCOUNTS ARE SQUARED
“Did you see? Did you see, sir?” Pavel Pavlovich sprang over to Velchaninov as soon as the youth went out.
“Yes, you have no luck!” Velchaninov let slip inadvertently. He would not have said these words if he were not so tormented and angered by this increasing pain in his chest. Pavel Pavlovich gave a start, as if burnt.
“Well, and you, sir—it must have been from pity for me that you didn’t return the bracelet—ha?”
“I had no chance…”
“From heartfelt pity, as a true friend pities a true friend?”
“Well, yes, I pitied you.” Velchaninov became angry.
He did, nevertheless, tell him briefly how he had gotten the bracelet back earlier and how Nadezhda Fedoseevna had nearly forced him to take part…
“You understand, I wouldn’t have taken it for anything; I have enough troubles without that!”
“You got carried away and took it!” Pavel Pavlovich tittered.
“That’s stupid on your part; however, you must be forgiven. You saw yourself just now that the main one in the matter is not I but others!”
“Even so you got carried away, sir.”
Pavel Pavlovich sat down and filled his glass.
“Do you suppose I’m going to yield to this youngster, sir? I’ll tie him in a knot, that’s what, sir! Tomorrow I’ll go and tie everything up! We’ll smoke this spirit out of the nursery, sir…”
He drank his glass almost in one gulp and poured more; in general he began to behave with a hitherto unusual casualness.
“See, Nadenka and Sashenka, dear little children—hee, hee, hee!”
He was beside himself with spite. There came another loud clap of thunder; lightning flashed blindingly, and the rain poured down in buckets. Pavel Pavlovich got up and closed the open window.
“And him asking you: ‘You’re not afraid of thunder?’—hee, hee! Velchaninov afraid of thunder! Kobylnikov has a—how is it—Kobylnikov has… And about being fifty years old—eh? Remember, sir?” Pavel Pavlovich went on sarcastically.
“You, incidentally, have settled in nicely here,” Velchaninov observed, barely able to utter the words from pain. “I’ll lie down… you do as you like.”
“One wouldn’t put a dog out in such weather!” Pavel Pavlovich picked up touchily, though almost glad that he had the right to be touchy.
“Well, so sit, drink… spend the night even!” Velchaninov mumbled, stretched out on the sofa, and groaned slightly.
“Spend the night, sir? Aren’t you… afraid, sir?”
“Of what?” Velchaninov suddenly raised his head.
“Never mind, sir, just so. Last time you were as if afraid, or else I only imagined it…”
“You’re stupid!” Velchaninov burst out and turned angrily to the wall.
“Never mind, sir,” Pavel Pavlovich responded.
The sick man somehow suddenly fell asleep, a moment after lying down. All the unnatural tension of this day, not to mention the great disorder of his health recently, somehow suddenly snapped, and he became as strengthless as a child. But the pain got its own back and overcame weariness and sleep; an hour later he awoke and with suffering got up from the sofa. The thunderstorm had abated; the room was filled with smoke, the bottle stood empty, and Pavel Pavlovich was sleeping on the other sofa. He was lying on his back, his head on a sofa pillow, fully dressed, with his boots on. His lorgnette, having slipped from his pocket, hung on its string almost to the floor. His hat lay near him, also on the floor. Velchaninov looked at him sullenly and decided not to wake him up. Bending over and pacing the room, because he was no longer able to lie down, he moaned and reflected on his pain.
He feared this pain in his chest not without reason. He had begun having these attacks long ago, but they visited him very rarely—once in a year or two. He knew it was from his liver. It began as if with a still dull, not strong, but bothersome pressure gathering at some point in his chest, in the pit of his stomach or higher up. Growing constantly, sometimes over the course of ten hours, the pain would finally reach such intensity, the pressure would become so unbearable, that the sick man would begin imagining death. During the last attack, which had come a year before, when the pain finally subsided after the tenth hour, he suddenly felt so strengthless that he could barely move his hand as he lay in bed, and for the whole day the doctor allowed him only a few teaspoons of weak tea and a little pinch of bread soaked in bouillon, like a nursing infant. This pain appeared on different occasions, but always with upset nerves to begin with. It would also pass strangely: sometimes, when caught at the very beginning, in the first half hour, everything would go away at once with simple poultices; but sometimes, as during the last attack, nothing would help, and the pain would subside only after a repeated and progressive taking of emetics. The doctor confessed afterward that he had been convinced it was poisoning. Now it was still a long time till morning, he did not want to send for a doctor during the night, and besides he did not like doctors. Finally, he could not help himself and started moaning loudly. The moans awakened Pavel Pavlovich: he sat up on the sofa and listened with fear for some time, his perplexed eyes following Velchaninov, who was nearly running all around the two rooms. The bottle he had drunk also affected him strongly, not in the usual way, and for a long time he could not collect himself; finally he understood and rushed to Velchaninov; the latter mumbled something in response.