'Nadezhda Fyodorovna,' Samoylenko correctcd. 'But what should society do?'
'Do? That's up .to society. But if you ask me, thc surest and most straightforward means is forcc. Shc should bc sent back to her husband undcr military escort. And if the husband won't have her, shc should be sentcnced to pcnal scrvitude, or bc put in some housc of correction.'
'Whew!' Samoylenko sighcd, and was silent for a moment. 'You were saying the other day that people like Layevs.ky should be extcrmi- natcd,' he remarked gently. 'Tell mc, if, cr, the statc or society, say, gave you thejob of extcrminating him, could you—bring yourself to?'
'I wouldn't hesitate for one second.'
IX
Layevsky and Nadezhda arrivcd homc and went into their dark, stuffy, depressing rooms. Neithcr spokc. Layevsky lit a candle, while Nadezhda sat down and raised her mournful, guilty eyes to him with- out taking off hcr coat and hat.
Hc knew that she wanted to havc things out with him, but that would have bccn so tedious, so pointless, so fatiguing, and he fclt depressed bccause he h.ad lost his temper and spokcn to her roughly.
He chanced to feel in his pocket the lctter which he had been mean- ing to read to hcr for days, and it occurrcd to him that he could distract her attention by showing it to her now.
'It's time we clarified our relations,' he thought. 'I'll givc it to her, come what may.'
He took out thc letter and gave it to her. 'Read this. It concerns you.'
With these words he went into his study, and lay on the sofa in the dark without a pillow. Nadezhda read the lettcr, and felt as if the cciling had fallen and the walls had closed in on hcr. She suddcnly fclt hemmcd in' by darkness, by fear—and rapidly crossed herself thrce times.
'May he rest in peace,' she said. 'May he rest in pcacc.'
She burst into tears.
'Ivan!' she called. 'Ivan!'
Therc was no answer. Thinking that Layevsky had comc in and was standing behind her chair, she sobbcd like a child.
'Why didn't you tell me of his dcath beforc?' she asked. 'I wouldn't havc gonc on that picnic, wouldn't have laughed in that awful way. The men made vulgar rcmarks to me. What a sinful thing to do. Save me, Ivan, save me, I'm out of my mind, I'm ru.ined '
Laycvsky heard her sobbing. He fclt ready to choke, and his heart pounded. In his anguish hc rose, stood in. the middlc of the room, groped about in the darkncss for the arm-chair ncar the table, and sat down.
'This is like prison,' hc thought. 'I must go away, can't stand any more '
It was too latc to go and play cards, and there were no restaurants in to\wn. He lay do^ again, and blocked his ears to shut out the sobs— then suddenly remembered that he could call on Samoylenko. To avoid passing Nad:zhda, he climbcd through the window into the garden, scaled the fence and sct off down thc street.
It was dark, and some steamer—a big passcnger ship, judging by hcr lights—had just put in.
The anchor-chain clattcred, and a red light sped from shore to ship— the customs boat.
'The passengers arc asleep in their cabins,' thought Layevsky, envying the strangers their rest.
The windows were open in Samoylenko's house, and Layevsky peered through one, and then another. The house was dark and quiet inside.
'Are you asleep, Alexander?' he called. 'Alexander Samoylenko!'
A cough was heard, and an anxious cry.
'Who's there? What the blazes?' 'It's me, Alcxander—forgive me.'
A little later the door opencd. A lamp flashed its soft light, and Samoylenko's bulk appeared, all in white including a white night-cap.
'What is it?' he asked, half asleep, brcathing heavily and scratching himself. 'Wait, I'll open up in a second.'
'Don't bother, I'll come through the window.'
Laycvsky climbcd through a window, went_up to Samoylenko and gripped him by the hand.
'Alcxander,' hc said shakily, 'you must savc me! I bcg you, I implore you—try to undcrstand me! My situation's shccr agony. Ifit lasts even a day or two longer I'll hang myself like—likc a dog.'
'One moment—what exactly are you on about?'
'Light a candle.'
'Ah mc,' sighcd Samoylcnko, lighting one. 'Oh, God—it's turncd one o'clock, old man.'
'Forgive mc, but I can't stay at home,' said Layevsky, much relievcd by the light and by Samoylenko's presence. 'You'rc my best friend, Alexander, the only onc I have. You'rc my only hopc. Whether you want to or not, for God's sakc rescue me. I must lcave hcre at all costs, so lend mc somc money.'
'Oh, my God,' sighed Samoylcnko, scratching himself. 'I'm falling aslccp, thcn I hcar thc whistle of thc stcamcr putting in,. and now you come. Do you need much?'
'Thrcc hundred roublcs at lcast. I must lcave her a hundred, and I nced two hundred for thc journey. I owe you about four hundred alrcady, but I'll send you it all, cvery bit of it '
Samoylenko clutchcd both his sidc-whiskers in one hand, straddled his lcgs and pondercd.
'Yes,' hc muttercd pensively. 'Three hundred—. Vcry well. But I haven't got that much, I'll have to borrow.'
'Then borrow, in God's name!' said Layevsky, who could tcll from Samoylcnko's cxprcssion that hc wishcd to—and dcfmitely would— makc thc loan. 'Borrow. I'll pay you back without fail—I'll send it you from St. Petersburg as soon as I arrive, don't worry. Tell you what, Alexandcr,' he said, chccring up. 'Let's have some winc.'
'Well—all right then.'
They went into the dining-room.
'But what about Nadezhda ?' asked Samoylcnko, placing thrce bottlcs and a dish of pcachcs on thc table. 'Shc won't stay on here, surely?'
Tll fix all that, don't worry,' said Layevsky in a sudden transport of dclight. 'I'll send her moncy later, and shc'll join me. Then we'll clarify our relations. Your hcalth, old pal.'
'Just a sccond,' said Samoylcnko. 'Try this first, it's from my own vincyard. Thnt bottlc's from Navaridzc's and this othcr's from Akha- tulov. Try all thrcc, and givc m^ your honcst opinion. Minc sccms a bit on thc sour side, ch ? What do you think ?'
'Yes. You'vc chccrcd mc up, Alcxandcr. Thank you. I fccl a new man.'
'On thc sour side, ch?'
'Hcll, I don't know, bm you'rc a marvcllous, splcndid fcllow.'
Looking at Laycvsky's palc, troublcd, amiablc fncc, Samoylcnko rccallcd Von Korcn's vicw that such pcoplc should bc extcrminated, and Laycvsky struck him as a wcak, defcncclcss child whom anyone could injure or destroy.
'And whcn you do go, you must makc your peace with your mother,' hc said. 'That's a bad busincss.'
'Oh v cs. Without fail.'
/
Therc was a bricf pausc.
'You might patch things up with Von Korcn too,' said Samoylenko whcn they had finishcd thc first bottlc. 'You'rc both grand, highly intclligcnt chaps, but you ahvays sccm to bc at loggcrhcads.'
'Ycs, hc is 3 grand, highly intelligcnt chap,' agrecd Layevsky, now rcady to praisc and forgivc cvcryone. 'Hc's a splcndid fellow, but I can't gct on tcrms with him, indccd I can't. Our charactcrs are too dissimilar. Mine is sluggish, fecblc, subnlissivc nature. I might hold out my hand to him at somc auspicious moment, but he'd tum his back on me—with contcmpt.'
Layevsky sipped his winc and paced up and do\wn.
'I imdcrstand Von Koren vcry wcll indccd,' he went on, standing in the middle of thc room. 'He's a hard, strong man, a tyrant. You've heard all his talk about that cxpcdition, and thosc arc no empty words. He rcquircs a wildcrness, a moonlit night. All around, in tents and undcr the opcn sky, slecp his hungry, sick Cossacks, worn out by punishing marchcs—his guidcs, his bearcrs, his doctor, his priest. He alone shuns slecp, sitting on his camp stool likc Stanlcy, fccling lord of thc waste land and mastcr of thcse pwplc. On, on, on hc prcsses. His people groan and dic onc aftcr the othcr, but he still drives on until hc himsclf perishes in thc end—yct still remains thc tyrant, the lord of the waste land bccause thc cross on his gravc can bc sccn by caravans thirty or forty miles away, dominating the desert. I'm sorry the man isn't in the army, he'd have made a first-rate general, a military genius. He could have drowned his cavalry in a river, built bridges of corpses—and such boldness is more important in war than all your fortifications and tactics. Oh, I understand him through and through. But tell me—why is he kicking his heels around hcre? What is he after?'