Saying this, he went into his study and lay down, but was unable to sleep for some time.
On the following morning Samoylenko—sporting full parade uni- form, epaulettes and medals since today was an official holiday—felt Nadezhda's pulse and looked at her tongue. When he came out of the bedroom, Layevsky was standing by the door.
'Well now, how about it?' he asked anxiously, his expression a mixture of fear, extreme unease and hope.
'Don't worry, it's nothing serious,' Samoylenko said. 'Just the usual chill.' 'That's not what I meant.' L:lyevsky frovwned impatiently. 'Did you get the money?'
'Forgive me, dear old boy,' whispercd Samoylen.ko, glancing at the door and betraying cmbarrassmcnt. 'Forgive me, for heavcn's sake. No onc has any spare cash, and so far I could only pick up five or tcn roubles hcre and there—a hundrcd and ten altogether. I'll speak to onc or two more peoplc today. Be patient.'
'But Saturday's the final date,' whispercd Layevsky, quivering with impatience. 'Get it by Saturday—in the name of all that's holy! If I can't lcave thcn you needn't bother, becausc I shan't want it. How a doctor can be without money—that's what I don't see.'
'Oh Lord, have it your own way,' hisscd Samoylen.ko so rapidly and with such urgency that his throat actually squeaked. 'I've been robbed left right and centre, I'm owed seven thousand and I'm in debt all round myself. Can I help that?'
'You'll have the money by Saturday then?'
'I'll do my bcst.'
'Please do, old man. Just see that I have that money in my hands by Friday morning.'
Samoylenko sat down and prcscribcd a solution of quinine, kaliunt bromatum, infusion of rhubarb, tincture of gentian and aqua foeniculi— all in one mixture. Hc addcd rose syrup to swcctcn it, and left.
XI
'You look as if you'vc comc to arrcst me,' said Von Korcn when he saw Samoylenko comc into the place in full parade uniform.
'I was just passing,' said Samoylenko, 'and I thought, why don't I pop in and see how zoology's doing.' He sat down at the big table which the zoologist had knocked together himself out of plain boards.
'Greetings, your revercncc,' he nodded to thc dcacon who sat by the window copying. Tll stay a moment, thcn dash home to arrange lunch. It's alrcady time—. I do hopc I'm not disturbing you?'
'Not at all,' answered the zoologist, spreading out some papers covered with fine handwriting on the. tablc. 'We'rc busy copying.'
'I see—. Oh, good grief!' sighed Samoylenko, cautiously pulling from the table a dusty book with a dead, dry, spidcr-like insect on it.
'Well, really!' hc said. 'Imagine you'rc some littlc grccn beetle going about your business—and you suddenly run into this monstrosity. That must bc terrifying, I should think.'
'Oh, I suppose so.'
'Is it equipped with poison to defcnd itsdf from its enemies?'
'Yes, for self-defence—and also for attack.'
'Well, well, well,' sighed Samovlenko. 'So evervthing in nature is functional and rational, is it then, boys? But therc's one thing I don't see. You're a highly intelligent chap, so explain it, won't you? There exist certain small creatures—no larger than a rat, yoii know, pretty- looking little things ... but vicious and immoral in the iiltimate degree, believe you me. One such little beast might be walking through a wood, say. He sees a bird. So he catches it and cats it. He moves on and sees a nest full of eggs in the grass. He's no longer hungry—he's had plenty to eat—still, he chews up an egg and knocks the others out of the nest with his paw. Then he meets a frog and has some sport with that. After torturing the frog he moves on, licking his lips—and meets a beetle. One blow of his paw, and that beetle—. Whatever he meets he maims and exterminates. He pushes into other beasts' lairs, wrecks ant-hills for the hell of it, cracks open snails. Ifhe meets a rat he starts a fight, if he sees a small snake or mouse, he has to strangle it. And so it goes on all day. Now, tcll me—what's the purpose of such a creature? Why was it created ?'
'I don't know what creature you mean,' Von Koren said. 'It must be one of the insectivores. Very well then. The bird was caught because it was careless. The nest of eggs was destroyed because the bird wasn't clever enough—made its nest badly and didn't succeed in disguising it. The frog probably had some defect in its colouring, or else it wouldn't have been seen—and so on. Your beast destroys only the weak, the clumsy and the careless—in a word, creatures possessing defects which nature holds it unnecessary to transmit to posterity. Only the fittest, the most cautious, powerful and developed survive. Thus your little beast unconsciously serves the great aim of perfecting the species.'
'Yes, yes, I see. By the way, old man,' Samoylenko said casually, 'could you lend me a hundred roubles?'
'Very weU. Now, there are some most interesting specimens among the insectivores. Take the mole. It's said to be useful because it destroys insect" pests, and there's a story that some German once sent Kaiser Wilhelm I a moleskin coat—but that the Kaiser gave orders to reprimand him for destroying so many valuable animals. Still, the mole is every bit as cruel as your creature, and it's a great pest too—does enormous damage to the fields.'
Von Koren opened a cashbox and took out a hundred-rouble note.
'The mole has a powerful thorax—like the bat,' he went on, locking the box. 'It has frightfullv well-developed bones and muscles, and an exceprionally powerful mouth. If it were as big as an elephant, there'd be no stopping it, it would trample everything underfoot. It's interest- ing that when two moles meet underground, both start digging a plat- form, as if by common consent—they need it as a convenient place to fight. When it's finished, they join battle fiercely and fight till the weaker drops. Well, take your himdred roubles,' said Von Koren, lowering his voice, 'but only on condition that you don't want it for Layevsky.'
'Suppose it is for Layevsky ?' exploded Samoylenko. 'What business is that of yours?'
'I can't provide money for Layevsky's benefit. I know you like lending money—you'd make a loan to some notorious lighwayman if he asked you. .Bit I can't help you in that direction, sorry.'
'Yes, it is for Layevsky, sir,' said Samoylenko, standing up and brandishing his right hand. 'Yes, sir, it's for Layevsky. Hell and damnation—no one has the right to tell me how to dispose of my own money! So you won't lend it me, eh?'
The deacon burst out laughing.
'Don't get so worked up—use your brain,' said the zoologist. 'Conferring favours on friend Layevsky—in my view, that makes about as much sense as watering weeds or feeding locusts.'
'Well, in my view it's our duty to help our neighbours,' shouted Sarnoylenko.
'Then why not help that starving Turk who lies beneath the fence? He's a worker, he's more valuable and useful chan friend Layevsky. Why not give him that hundred roubles? Or put a hundred towards my expedition ?'
'Look here, are you making me that loan or aren't you?'
'Tell me frankly—what does he need it for?'
'There's no secret about it, he has to go to St. Petersburg on Saturday.'
'So that's it,' said Von Koren slowly. 'Well, well, well! I see. Will she be going with him then?'
'She stays here for the time being. He'll settle his afiairs in St. Petersburg and send her money, and then she'll go too.'
'Very neat,' said the zoologist, and gave a short, high-pitched laugh. 'Neat indeed—a very bright idea.'
He went quickly up to Samoylenko, stood facing him and stared into his eyes.
'Tell me frankly,' he said. 'Has he got tired of her, eh? He has, hasn't he?'
'Yes,' said Samoylenko, and broke out in a sweat.
'How nauseating!' said- Von Korcn, disgust written on his face. 'Now, there are two possibilities, Alexander. Either you and he have <;ooked this up together, or else you're a half-wit, if you'll pardon my saying so. Can't you see he's making a fool of you—treating you like a child, and in the most unscrupulous way? He wants to get rid ofher, abandon her here—why, it sticks out a mile. She'll be left on your hands, and then you'll have to send her to St. Petersburg at your own expense—that's as clear as daylight. Surely your good friend hasn't so dazzled you with his virtues that you can't see what's staring you in the face!'