‘Excellent. That means we’ll catch the wagons up in no time at all – then we’ll go on to the Molokan’s.’
‘But what you thinking of, Ivan Kuzmichov?’ Moses said in horror, throwing up his hands. ‘Where are you going to spend night? Now, you can enjoy nice little supper and stay here for night and tomorrow, God willing, you can drive off and catch up with anyone you have to!’
‘I’m sorry, Moses, but we just haven’t the time. Some other occasion, perhaps. We’ll stay another quarter of an hour, but then we must be off. We can stay at the Molokan’s overnight.’
‘Quarter of hour!’ shrieked Moses. ‘Do you have no fear of God! Now, don’t force me to hide your caps and lock door! At least have a bite to eat and some tea!’
‘We’ve no time for tea and sugar and all that stuff,’ said Kuzmichov.
Moses leaned his head to one side, crooked his knees and spread his hands out as if warding off blows; with that same painfully cloying smile he started begging them:
‘Ivan Kuzmichov! Father Khristofor! Please do me favour and have tea with me! Am I really such wicked man that you refuse to drink tea with me? Ivan Kuzmichov!’
‘All right then, we’ll have some tea,’ Father Khristofor sighed sympathetically. ‘That won’t hold us up.’
‘Oh, all right,’ agreed Kuzmichov.
Moses sprang into action, gasped joyfully, cringed – just as if he had leapt from cold water into the warm – and ran to the door.
‘Rosa! Rosa!’ he cried in that frenzied, strangled voice in which he had summoned Solomon.
A minute later the door opened and in came Solomon with a large tray. After putting it on the table he looked sarcastically to one side and then smiled as strangely as before. Now, by the light of the small lamp, one could see every detail of his smile. It was extremely complex and expressed a variety of feelings – but predominant was one of blatant contempt. It seemed that he was thinking about something both funny and stupid, that there was someone whom he despised and just could not bear, and that he was pleased about something and was waiting for the right moment to produce a hurtful sneer and then laugh his head off. His long nose, fat lips and cunning, protruding eyes seemed tense from this urge to roar with laughter.
‘Solomon, why didn’t you come over to the fair at N— this summer to do your Jewish impersonations?’ asked Kuzmichov, peering at his face and smiling sarcastically.
Two years before, as Yegorushka also remembered very well, Solomon had performed scenes from Jewish life in one of the booths and enjoyed great success. The mention of this made no impression whatsoever on Solomon. Without a word of reply he went out and soon returned with the samovar.
When he had completed his duties at the table he stepped to one side, folded his arms on his chest, stuck one leg out and fixed his sarcastic eyes on Father Khristofor. In his posture there was something provocative, overbearing and contemptuous and at the same time extremely pathetic and comic, because the more threatening it became the more sharply it accentuated his short trousers, docked jacket, grotesque nose and his whole wretched plucked, bird-like figure.
Moses brought a stool from another room and sat down a little way from the table.
‘Good appetites! Here’s the tea and sugar!’ he said, attending to his guests. ‘Drink your fills! Such rare visitors, so rare! Really, it must be five years since I saw Father Khristofor! And is no one going to tell me who that handsome little gentleman is?’ he asked, tenderly looking at Yegorushka.
‘He’s my sister Olga’s son,’ Kuzmichov replied.
‘And where’s he off to?’
‘To school. We’re taking him to the grammar school.’
Out of politeness Moses showed surprise and meaningfully twisted his head.
‘That’s very good!’ he said, wagging his finger at the samovar. ‘That’s good! And you’ll be such fine gentleman when you leave school that we’ll all have to take hat off to you! You’ll be clever, rich – and so grand! And Mama will be so pleased! Oh, that’s very good!’
He was silent for a while, stroked his knees and then continued in a politely jocular tone, ‘You’ll have to forgive me, Father Khristofor, but I must report you to the Bishop for robbing merchants of their livelihood! I’ll get myself an official form and write and tell him that Father Khristofor doesn’t have much money, so he’s gone into business and started selling wool!’
‘Well, it’s something I thought up in my twilight years,’ laughed Father Khristofor. ‘I’ve changed profession from priest to merchant, my friend. Actually I should be at home now saying my prayers, but here I am galloping around like a Pharaoh in his chariot… Ah, vanity…!’
‘But you’ll make plenty money!’
‘Do you think so? I’ll get more kicks than copecks! The wool isn’t mine, it’s my son-in-law’s, Mikhail’s!’
‘But why didn’t he go himself?’
‘Why?… because he’s still wet behind the ears. It’s all very well buying wool, but when it comes to selling it he has no idea – he’s still very young. He spent all his money, wanted to make a bundle and then go and cut a dash, but he’s been running around all over the place and no one will even give him what he paid for it. For a whole year the lad knocks around and then he comes to me and asks, “Papa, do me a favour, please sell the wool for me. I haven’t a clue about these things!” So true! Yes, the moment things go wrong he comes running to Papa, but before that he managed very nicely without him! He didn’t come to me for advice when he was buying it, but now it’s Papa he wants! But what can Papa do? If it weren’t for Kuzmichov, Papa wouldn’t have done a thing. Children are nothing but trouble!’
‘Yes, big trouble, I can tell you!’ sighed Moses. ‘I’ve got six of my own. This one to school, another to the doctor’s, a third needs coddling – and when they grow up they give you even more trouble. But it’s nothing new – it was the same in the Holy Scriptures. When Jacob had little childrens he wept, but when they grew up he wept even more!’
‘Hm… yes,’ agreed Father Khristofor, pensively glancing into his glass. ‘Personally speaking, I’ve done nothing to anger God. I’ve lived my allotted span as happy as anything… I’ve fixed my daughters up with good husbands, set my sons up in life. And now I’m free. I’ve done my duty and I can go wherever I like. I live nice and quietly with my wife, eat, drink and sleep, enjoy my grandchildren, say my prayers and I ask for nothing more. I live off the fat of the land and I don’t need anything from anybody. Never in my life have I known sorrow and if the Tsar for example were to ask me now, “Is there anything you need? What would you like?” I’d tell him nothing! I want for nothing – and I can thank God for that. There’s no happier man than me in the whole town. Only, I’ve sinned a lot – but after all, only God is sinless. Isn’t that true?’
‘Of course it’s true.’
‘Well then, I’ve lost my teeth of course, my poor back aches from old age, I get short of breath and all that… I do have illnesses – the flesh is weak! But as you can see for yourself I’ve lived my life to the full. I’m in my seventies! You can’t go on for ever – you mustn’t outstay your welcome!’
Father Khristofor suddenly remembered something, snorted into his glass and laughed so much he had a coughing fit. Moses laughed as well – and he too had a coughing fit, out of politeness.
‘It’s an absolute scream!’ Father Khristofor said with a helpless wave of the arm. ‘My eldest son Gabriel comes to stay with me. His line is medicine – he’s a district doctor down in Chernigov7… Right, so I tell him, “I’m a bit short-winded… and there’s one thing and another… Well, you’re a doctor, so cure your father!” He immediately makes me undress, does some tapping and listening, kneads my stomach, performs different tricks and then he tells me, “Papa, you need compressed air treatment”.’