Or he'd laugh—now in a deep guffaw, now in a thin, piping tone: laugh wuil the tears came.
'Why does he sit around my place?' he would ask with a bewildered gesture. 'What does he want? He just sits and stares.'
He even gave Belikov the nickname 'Master Creepy Crawly'. Well, we naturally didn't tell him that his sister Barbara was ^^^ing of marrying Master Crawly. Once, when the headmaster's wife hinted that it would be worth fixing up his sister with some such generally Tespected worthy as Beli.kov, he frowned.
'Nothing to do with me,' he muttered. 'Let her ^^^ a rattl^^ke if she wants to. I mind my o^ b^rnes.'
Now hear what hap^^ed ne.xt. Some wag drew a cartoon of Belikov walking in his galosha, with the bottorru of h.U trousen rolled up, ^^^mg rut gr^t umbrelk and arm in arm with Barbara. It wa.s captioned THE A^^aoPOs. And it had just aught lil
expresion to ^^ection, se? The art:Ut must tave worked at it night after night the t^chers at the two gra^^r schools, the boys'
and the girls', a11 got their copy. So did the l^^rers at the theological college, so did our l^^ o^^^. Belikov got one too. 'fle c:1ricature had a most depresing efectt on him.
On the first ofMay, a Suntay. we had an outing. All ofus—teachers, pupils—had arranged to meet at school and then go for a walk to the woods. Well, we set off on ^^ trip, and there's Belikov looking quite gr^n and gloomier than a storm-cloud.
'What evil ^ttple there are,' he, his lips quivering.
I a^^lly feel sorry for ^m. T^m, as we're walking along, all of a sudden (believe it or not) Kovalenko sails past on his bicycle fol!owed by Barbara. also on a bicycle: flushed and pufed, but g^^-humoured and tappy.
'I say, we're going on ahead,' she shouts. 'What nurvellous w^ther —frightfully nurvellous, acnally.'
Both vanished from view, while friend Bdikov ^med from green to white and seemed paralysed. He stopped and looked at
'What, pray, is the meaning of this?' he asked. 'Or do my eya deceive me? Is it proper for gra^^^r-school teachen—for wo^m !—to ride bicycles?'
'What's improper about it?' said I. 'Let them cycle away to their h^rt's content.'
'^^at do you mean?' he shouted, amazed at my calmnes. 'You can't know what you're saying.'
But he was so shaken that he decided not to go on and t^rced back.
All next he was nervously rubbing his ^mds and twitching. He wasn't at all well, his face showed that. He abandoned lil cl^^ tro— and that for the fmt time in career. He ^^^d h.U lunch a.s weU . .And then, in the late afternoon, he donned wirm clothing in spite of the fine su^mer w^ther, and off he toddled to the KovaJ^ios'. Barbara was out, only the brother was at home.
'Pray be seated,' pronounced Kovalenko coldly. He frowned, looking sleepy—he'djust been taking anafter-lunch nap, and hewas in a very bad mood indeed.
Belikov sat for ten minutes' without speaking, and then began.
'I have come to you to relieve my mind. I am deeply grieved. Some humorist has drawn a picture ridiculing myself and a certain other individual dear to us both. I am in duty bound to assure you that I am in no way implicated, that I have given no occasion for such witticisms. I have, on the contrary, conducted myself throughout as a person of complete probity.'
Kovalenko sat there fuming and said nothing. Belikov paused.
'I also have something else to tell you,' he went on in a quiet, sad voice. 'I have been in the profession for some time, while you are only a begirmer, and I consider it my duty as your senior colleague to give you a You ride a bicycle: a pastime wholly improper in one
who instructs the young.'
'Why so?' asked Kovalenko in his deep voice.
'Need I say more, Kovalenko? Are my words not intelligible? If a teacher goes bicycling, then what are we to expect ofhis pupils? That they will walk on their heads, I presume! There is nothing in the school rules which says that you can bicycle. Which means you can't. I was appaled yesterday. When I saw your sister my eyes swam. A woman or a girl on a bicycle! An abomination!'
'What, precisely, do you require?'
'I require one thing only: to warn you, Kovalenko. You are young, you have your future before you. You should comport yourself very, very carefuUy indeed, but you don't toe the line at all, oh dear me no. You wear an embroidered shirt. You're always carrying books in the street. And now we have this bicycling! This bicycling, yours and your sister's, will come to the headmaster's ears, and then it will reach the higher authorities. Not very nice, now, is it?'
'Whether my sister and I do or do not ride bicycles is no one else's business,' said Kovalenko, ^^^g crimson. 'And if anyone meddles in my domestic and family affairs I'U bloody well see him in hell!'
Belikov blenched. He stood up.
'If you take this tone with me I ^^ot continue,' he said. 'And I must beg you never to use such expressions abput the authorities in my presence. You must treat authority with respect.'
'Did I say anything against the authorities?' asked Kovalenko, looking at him angrily. 'Kindly leave me in peace. I am an honest man, and I luve no wish to bandy words with an individual of your descrip- tion. I don't like rurb.'
Rdgeting nervously, Belikov quickly put his coat on, horror written on h.U face—no one lud ever been so rude to him in his life.
'You may say what you pl^^,' he remarked as he came out of the lobby on to the lmding. 'But I must warn you of Someone nuy luve overhcard w. Now, in case our conversation might be misin- terpreted, in ^^ of pouible repercus.sioru, I shall be obliged to inform the.headnuster of its substance, er, in general outline. That is my duty.'
'Inform, eh? urry on then, sneak away!'
Seizing him from behind by the collar, Kovalenko gave him a shove —and Belikov flew do^^tain, his galoshes drumming. They were high, steep stairs, but he slid down without mislup, he stood up, and he tou^^d his nose to see if his spectacles were broken. Now, just as he wa.s dithering do^ those stain, in came Barbara with two ladics. They st^^ at the bottom, watching—which, for Belikov, wa'S the last straw. I ^^^ he'd rather luve broken his neck or both legs than become a bughing-stock. Now the whole to^ would know, wouldn't it? The Head would hcar of it, md so would the highcr authorities. There would—alas—be rcpercusions. There would be another cartoon. And he would end up luving to resign.
Barbara recognizcd him when he was on his fect. Secing his ludicrous expreson, his rumpled coat, his galoshes, not understanding what it was about—but supposing him to havc fallen do^ by accidcnt—she couldn't hdp giving a gre2t guffaw.
'Ha, lu, ha !'
It rang through the entire house.
This reverberating peal of laughter was the cnd of everything for Belikov: of his courtship and also of his life on earth. His ears did not hear what Barbara was saying, his eyes saw nothing. On arriving homc he fint removed her portrait from his desk, after which he lay down ... ncvcr to rise again.
Three days later Afanasy came in to ask me if wc should send for a doctor as thcre was 'somcthing wrong' with the ^ster. I wcnt to see Belikov. He lay in his four-poster with a blankct over him, not spcaking. In ^wer to questions he would only"say yes or no, and that was all. While hc lay there Afanasy hovercd ncar by—gloomy, scowling, sighing decply, stinking of vodka.
Belikov died a month latcr. Wc all went to thc funeraclass="underline" both high schools, that is, and the theological college. Now, as Ke lay in his coffin, his expression was gentle and agreeable—merry, even—as if he was glad to have been placed at last in that ultimate receptacle from which there would be no emerging. Yes, he had attained his ideal. During the funeral the weather was dull and rainy—in his honour, so to speak— and we all sported our galoshes and umbrellas. Barbara was there too, and she sobbed when they lowered the coffm into the grave. Ukrainian girls can only cry or laugh, I've noticed—they have no intermediate mood.