head bowed. "You would have seen that hewas saved...."
"Ah, I don't know! Ah, I don't know. Don't ask. I don't know, I don'tremember how I got home. I only remember: I saw you in the air ...something seemed to strike me ... and what happened afterwards ..."
"Seemed to strike you," repeated David, and we all three suddenlyburst out laughing together. We were very happy.
"What may be the meaning of this, may I ask," we heard behind us athreatening voice, the voice of my father. He was standing in thedoorway. "Will there ever be an end to these fooleries? Where are weliving? Are we in the Russian Empire or the French Republic?"
He came into the room.
"Anyone who wants to be rebellious and immoral had better go toFrance! And how dare _you_ come here?" he said, turning to Raissa,who, quietly sitting up and turning to face him, was evidently takenaback but still smiled as before, a friendly and blissful smile.
"The daughter of my sworn enemy! How dare you? And hugging him, too!Away with you at once, or ..."
"Uncle," David brought out, and he sat up in bed. "Don't insultRaissa. She is going away, only don't insult her."
"And who are you to teach me? I am not insulting her, I am not in ...sul ... ting her! I am simply turning her out of the house. I have anaccount to settle with you, too, presently. You have made away withother people's property, have attempted to take your own life, haveput me to expense."
"To what expense?" David interrupted.
"What expense? You have ruined your clothes. Do you count that asnothing? And I had to tip the men who brought you. You have given thewhole family a fright and are you going to be unruly now? And if thisyoung woman, regardless of shame and honour itself ..."
David made a dash as though to get out of bed.
"Don't insult her, I tell you."
"Hold your tongue."
"Don't dare ..."
"Hold your tongue!"
"Don't dare to insult my betrothed," cried David at the top of hisvoice, "my future wife!"
"Betrothed!" repeated my father, with round eyes. "Betrothed! Wife!Ho, ho, ho! ..." ("Ha, ha, ha," my aunt echoed behind the door.) "Why,how old are you? He's been no time in the world, the milk is hardlydry on his lips, he is a mere babe and he is going to be married! ButI ... but you ..."
"Let me go, let me go," whispered Raissa, and she made for the door.She looked more dead than alive.
"I am not going to ask permission of you," David went on shouting,propping himself up with his fists on the edge of the bed, "but of myown father who is bound to be here one day soon; he is a law to me,but you are not; but as for my age, if Raissa and I are not oldenough ... we will bide our time whatever you may say...."
"Aie, aie, Davidka, don't forget yourself," my father interrupted."Just look at yourself. You are not fit to be seen. You have lost allsense of decency."
David put his hand to the front of his shirt.
"Whatever you may say ..." he repeated."Oh, shut his mouth, Porfiry Petrovitch," piped my aunt from behindthe door, "shut his mouth, and as for this hussy, this baggage ...this ..."
But something extraordinary must have cut short my aunt's eloquence atthat moment: her voice suddenly broke off and in its place we heardanother, feeble and husky with old age....
"Brother," this weak voice articulated, "Christian soul."
XXIII
We all turned round.... In the same costumein which I had just seen him, thin, pitifuland wild looking, Latkin stood before us like anapparition.
"God!" he pronounced in a sort of childish way, pointing upwards witha bent and trembling finger and gazing impotently at my father, "Godhas chastised me, but I have come for Va ... for Ra ... yes, yes, forRaissotchka.... What ... tchoo! what is there for me? Soonunderground--and what do you call it? One little stick, another ...cross-beam--that's what I ... want, but you, brother, diamond-merchant... mind ... I'm a man, too!"
Raissa crossed the room without a word and taking his arm buttoned hisvest.
"Let us go, Vassilyevna," he said; "they are all saints here, don'tcome to them and he lying there in his case"--he pointed to David--"isa saint, too, but you and I are sinners, brother. Come. Tchoo....Forgive an old man with a pepper pot, gentleman! We have stolentogether!" he shouted suddenly; "stolen together, stolen together!" herepeated, with evident satisfaction that his tongue had obeyed him atlast.
Everyone in the room was silent. "And where is ... the ikon here," heasked, throwing back his head and turning up his eyes; "we mustcleanse ourselves a bit."
He fell to praying to one of the corners, crossing himself ferventlyseveral times in succession, tapping first one shoulder and then theother with his fingers and hurriedly repeating:
"Have mercy me, oh, Lor ... me, oh, Lor ... me, oh, Lor ..." Myfather, who had not taken his eyes off Latkin, and had not uttered aword, suddenly started, stood beside him and began crossing himself,too. Then he turned to him, bowed very low so that he touched thefloor with one hand, saying, "You forgive me, too, MartinyanGavrilitch," kissed him on the shoulder. Latkin in response smackedhis lips in the air and blinked: I doubt whether he quite knew what hewas doing. Then my father turned to everyone in the room, to David, toRaissa and to me:
"Do as you like, act as you think best," he brought out in a soft andmournful voice, and he withdrew.
My aunt was running up to him, but he cried out sharply and gruffly toher. He was overwhelmed.
"Me, oh, Lor ... me, oh, Lor ... mercy!" Latkin repeated. "I am aman."
"Good-bye, Davidushka," said Raissa, and she, too, went out of theroom with the old man.
"I will be with you tomorrow," David called after her, and, turninghis face to the wall, he whispered: "I am very tired; it will be aswell to have some sleep now," and was quiet.
It was a long while before I went out of the room. I kept in hiding. Icould not forget my father's threats. But my apprehensions turned outto be unnecessary. He met me and did not utter a word. He seemed tofeel awkward himself. But night soon came on and everything was quietin the house.
XXIV
Next morning David got up as though nothing were the matter and notlong after, on the same day, two important events occurred: in themorning old Latkin died, and towards evening my uncle, Yegor, David'sfather, arrived in Ryazan. Without sending any letter in advance,without warning anyone, he descended on us like snow on our heads. Myfather was completely taken aback and did not know what to offer tohis dear guest and where to make him sit. He rushed about as thoughdelirious, was flustered as though he were guilty; but my uncle didnot seem to be much touched by his brother's fussy solicitude; he keptrepeating: "What's this for?" or "I don't want anything." His mannerwith my aunt was even colder; she had no great liking for him, indeed.In her eyes he was an infidel, a heretic, a Voltairian ... (he had infact learnt French to read Voltaire in the original). I found my UncleYegor just as David had described him. He was a big heavy man with abroad pock-marked face, grave and serious. He always wore a hat withfeathers in it, cuffs, a frilled shirt front and a snuff-coloured vestand a sword at his side. David was unspeakably delighted to see him--heactually looked brighter in the face and better looking, and hiseyes looked different: merrier, keener, more shining; but he did hisutmost to moderate his joy and not to show it in words: he was afraidof being too soft. The first night after Uncle Yegor's arrival, fatherand son shut themselves up in the room that had been assigned to myuncle and spent a long time talking together in a low voice; nextmorning I saw that my uncle looked particularly affectionately andtrustfully at his son: he seemed very much pleased with him. Davidtook him to the requiem service for Latkin; I went to it, too, myfather did not hinder my going but remained at home himself. Raissaimpressed me by her calm: she looked pale and much thinner but did notshed tears and spoke and behaved with perfect simplicity; and with allthat, strange to say, I saw a certain grandeur in her; the unconsciousgrandeur of sorrow forgetful of itself! Uncle Yegor made heracquaintance on the spot, in the church porch; from his manner to he
r,it was evident that David had already spoken of her. He was as pleasedwith her as with his son: I could read that in David's eyes when helooked at them both. I remember how his eyes sparkled when his fathersaid, speaking of her: "She's a clever girl; she'll make a capablewoman." At the Latkins' I was told that the old man had quietlyexpired like a candle that has burnt out, and that until he had lostpower and consciousness, he kept stroking his daughter's head andsaying something unintelligible but not gloomy, and he was smiling tothe end. My father went to the funeral and to the
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