Dedalus Book of Russian Decadence

by Lodge, Kirsten; Rosen, Margo Shohl; Dashevsky, Grigory

  His father asked, “Now then, Vanka, why have you taken up with that namby-pamby mama’s boy?”

  “Now what!” Vanya rudely replied. “Not allowed to make friends! That’s a new one!”

  Neither Vanya’s father nor his mother was disturbed in the slightest by Vanya’s rudeness. In fact, they did not even notice it. They were used to it. And anyway, they were rude themselves.

  “There’s going to be no end of complaints,” his father explained. “What are you giving him cigarettes for? His mother is complaining. And I’m losing out here, too, brother: I can’t buy cigarettes for every boy in the village!”

  “And he’s not at all namby-pamby,” Vanya said. “He’s just a little pampered. And he’s a good walker. And the main thing I like about him is, he’s obedient.”

  “That’s my fighter!” his father said proudly. “That’s the way to be, brother, always try to finish on top. People, brother, are just a lot of cattle.” Zelenev spoke with strange smugness. “There’s no sense standing on ceremony with them. If you’re too soft with them, they’ll eat you right up.”

  “Without a doubt,” his mother said.

  “The stronger man is in the right,” his father continued in a didactic tone. “The fight for existence. That, I’m telling you, brother, is the great law.”

  Zelenev lit up a cigarette and winked at Vanya enigmatically, out of habit as usual. He wasn’t thinking anything in particular just then that would have called for winking.

  “Give me a fag!” Vanya begged.

  His father gave him one. Vanya lit up with the same placidly pompous expression he’d worn when he’d been drinking beer a little while ago.

  His mother angrily grumbled, “Now they’re both smoking the place up.”

  “Let’s go out to the garden, brother,” said his father.

  IX

  That night Kolya couldn’t get to sleep. He was oppressed by strange emotions. He recalled what Vanya had told him about his dreams—and Vanya’s dreams tempted him to dream of that, too. How was that possible?…

  In the morning Kolya asked Mama for permission not to eat anything that day. At first Mama was worried. “Where does it hurt?” she asked.

  But then, when she found out that nothing hurt, that Kolya just wanted to fast a little, Mama got angry and didn’t allow it. “More of that Vanya’s mischief!” she said. “That fiend is always up to no good!”

  Kolya admitted that he and Vanya had agreed to eat nothing that whole day. “How can I eat my fill while he’s going hungry?” Kolya said, troubled.

  But Mama said firmly, “Don’t even think of it.”

  Kolya was very troubled. He tried not to eat anyway, but Mama was so strict with him that he had to obey in spite of himself. Kolya ate as if he were guilty of something. Mama smiled even as she frowned.

  Meanwhile, Vanya really was going hungry all day. His mother said calmly, “If you don’t want to stuff yourself, then don’t. A little hunger won’t kill you, and if it does, it’s no great loss.”

  Towards evening, the boys met in the ravine.

  Kolya was struck by the hungry gleam in Vanya’s eyes and his sunken face. He looked at Vanya with tender pity and respectful admiration. And from that moment he became like a slave to Vanya.

  “You eat?” Vanya asked him.

  Kolya made a guilty, sour face. “They made me eat,” he said sheepishly.

  Vanya shook his head in disgust.

  X

  If Kolya’s Mama hadn’t been so busy with rehearsals for the play that was to be performed in a few days, she would surely have noticed and been worried by the strange change in Kolya. Formerly cheerful and affectionate, the boy had changed completely.

  More and more often, Kolya was afflicted by depressed moods he had never known before, and Vanya sustained them. It was as if he knew some fatal and irresistible spells. He lured Kolya into the forest and cast his spells there under the dusky forest canopy. His depraved eyes charmed Kolya into oblivion—an oblivion so profound that sometimes Kolya looked around with absolutely unrecognising, uncomprehending eyes. What had once been delightful and alive now seemed new, alien and hostile. And even Mama herself sometimes receded into the murky twilight of distant memories: when Kolya wanted to say something about Mama as he used to, he would feel all of a sudden that he had neither words, nor even thoughts about her.

  Nature, too, was strangely, sadly dimmed in Kolya’s eyes. It was as if its outlines were fading away. And nature was becoming uninteresting for Kolya, and unnecessary.

  Yielding to Vanya’s temptations, Kolya occasionally smoked. Not more than one cigarette each time. And each time Vanya gave him mint leaves to cover up the smell of tobacco. Tobacco no longer made Kolya’s head spin as it had at the beginning. But its effect was even more harmful: each time after smoking, Kolya could feel an extraordinary emptiness in his soul, and an indifference. It was as if someone were taking his soul out of him with stealthy, thieving hands and putting in its place a cold, free, elemental mermaid’s soul—with soulless, eternally calm breath. This made him feel freer and more courageous. And somehow he didn’t feel like thinking about anyone or anything.

  Dark circles appeared under Kolya’s eyes from the smoking and the night-time fantasies. And Mama noticed this, got worried and decided to keep a closer eye on Kolya, but she was soon distracted by her other fun and festive activities.

  XI

  Even in the ravine it was hot. And quiet. Kolya had got to the forest before Vanya.

  The pines and spruces were emitting their resinous scent, and this gave Kolya a momentary, feeble stirring of happiness. Not for long. His soul responded joyfully, as if from habit, to the greeting of nature, so dear and familiar to him and only seemingly indifferent. His soul rejoiced, and just as suddenly forgot its joy, and seemed even to forget that there was such a thing as joy on earth…

  The stream splashed gently, with a perplexed, questioning murmur. In the forest there was an occasional rustling. Shyly concealing itself and concealing its firm objectives, nature was living its mysterious life, so dear and familiar to us…

  Kolya continued to wait. A melancholy boredom oppressed him. Around him there were so many things of every kind that had once given him pleasure—trees, grass, sounds and movements—but all this seemed somehow empty. And far away.

  There was a rustling sound far off, and Kolya knew immediately that it was Vanya coming. And Kolya felt happy. It was as if he had been lost and alone in a strange and frightening place, where melancholy dwelt, and he had been found and rescued from its dark fascination.

  Then the branches stirred, resiliently and stubbornly resisting some violation, then forgetting about it immediately and springing back into place, and Vanya’s grimacing face looked out from the green thicket. “Waiting?” he cried. “And have I got something for us!”

  He shouldered the branches aside and came out to the stream, happy, sweaty, barefoot. He had a bottle in his hand. Kolya gazed with amazement.

  “Madeira,” said Vanya, showing the bottle. “Pinched it.”

  He was full of excitement, and his face was jerking with more than the usual grimaces. He spoke in a breathy whisper. “My old man likes to have a swig now and then. Chances are he won’t notice a bottle’s gone missing. And if by bad luck he does remember, he’ll think he drank it himself. Or the maid did.”

  The boys squatted on their haunches by the stream, and gazed with dumb excitement at the bottle. Kolya asked, “But how do you open it?”

  “How, indeed,” Vanya answered with an important air. “And what do you think corkscrews are for?”

  Vanya put his hand in his pocket, dug around, and pulled out a penknife with a corkscrew. “See,” he said, showing Kolya the knife, “I have this knife. It has two blades, and on the bottom—a corkscrew.”

  “On the bottom,” Kolya repeated with a laugh.

  Slowly, with difficulty—and taking pleasure in the difficulty—they uncorked the bottle. Vanya ga
ve the bottle to Kolya and said, “Drink.”

  Kolya flushed, giggled, made a little grimace, brought the bottle to his lips, and took a tiny sip. Sweet and bitter. And a light thrill of feverishly happy excitement ran through Kolya. With a discomfited laugh he handed the bottle to Vanya. Vanya hurriedly lifted the bottle to his lips and straightaway swigged a big mouthful. His eyes began to shine.

  “Why are you taking such tiny sips?” he said, passing Kolya the wine. “Take a bigger swig, you’ll see how good it is.”

  Now Kolya drank more boldly, as much as he could in one gulp. But this was too much for him and made him cough. Suddenly he felt scared and awful. The forest swam smoothly and slowly before his eyes. And then suddenly he was happy.

  Passing the bottle between them, they drank in turns, taking big gulps or small ones. And both of them were soon drunk. Vanya’s grimaces were more intense than ever. The boys laughed loudly. Kolya began to shout and laugh wildly: “The forest is dancing!”

  “It’s dancing, it’s dancing!” Vanya seconded him.

  “Look, what a funny bird!” Kolya yelled.

  And everything they saw aroused their gaiety and seemed funny to them. They danced and capered around. Their loud gaiety gave rise to wild, silly games. They knocked down saplings, and clawed at each other, and all of their movements were unexpected and awkward, and everything was hazy, disconnected and funny in their eyes.

  They had tossed the bottle away somewhere. Then they remembered it and began to look, but couldn’t find it. Vanya said, “There was still wine there. It’s rubbish that we lost it.”

  “So what, we got drunk enough anyway,” said Kolya, laughing.

  Now Vanya quietened down. His rowdy happiness had subsided. And right away his changed mood communicated itself to Kolya. In a relaxed, drunken, complaining tone, Vanya said, “I wish we could drink tomorrow. My head’s splitting.”

  Kolya lay down on the grass under a tree. His face had paled. It seemed to him that something inside him was picking him up, turning him, carrying him … but where?

  “Let’s swim,” said Vanya. “The water’ll cool us off and sober us up.”

  The boys stripped off, waded into the water, and almost drowned in the stream. The water kept pushing at the backs of their knees. They laughed, fell down on all fours and gulped water. The water got in their noses and throats. It was frightening, and funny. Finally, they somehow scrambled out and plopped down on the grass, laughing uproariously.

  They began to put their clothes on. Vanya asked, “You want me to sail two boats?”

  “Sure, go ahead,” said Kolya. “But where are the two boats?”

  “Oh, I’ll find them,” Vanya replied with a smirk. All of a sudden he grabbed Kolya’s yellow shoes and threw them in the stream. “Look at that, two boats!” he shouted, laughing loudly.

  The shoes, bouncing between the rocks, were quickly carried off. Kolya cried out and ran after them, but it soon became obvious that he wouldn’t be able to catch them—the bushes were getting in his way and his legs were disobeying him. Kolya sat on the ground and burst into tears. “Why did you do that?” he reproached Vanya.

  “Well, you yourself said, ‘Go ahead,’” Vanya said with a malicious grin.

  “How am I going to get home now?” Kolya asked sadly.

  “The same way I do,” Vanya chortled. His transparently light eyes squinted and laughed. He made a face at Kolya and ran up the slope, quickly, clambering up like a cat. Kolya scrambled along after him, crying and scraping his feet.

  “Better get home as quickly as I can,” he thought, feeling bitter and humiliated.

  But hardly had they reached the road when again he felt happy and the whole adventure with the wine, the stream and the shoes seemed amusing.

  XII

  Evening was coming on, and Kolya still wasn’t home. Kolya’s Mama had begun to worry. She sent the maid over to the neighbours’. The maid came back and said, “And that Vanya isn’t back at the Zelenevs’ yet, either.”

  “Loafing together somewhere. Well, I’m definitely going to give it to him,” Kolya’s Mama said angrily.

  But actually she was frightened. Anything might have happened. In her imagination she saw horrible pictures of Kolya’s violent death.

  She stood at the gate and worriedly looked down the road. From behind her came the sound of someone’s quick, quiet footsteps. Mama turned around. It was Kolya: he was hurrying in through the back garden. Mama gasped. “Kolya, what a mess you are! Your coat sleeve is torn! And where are your shoes?”

  Kolya laughed gaily, waved his hand and said, “My shoes floated away … far away.”

  And the slurred, raspy sound of his voice horrified Mama. Kolya could barely move the tongue in his mouth; he was pale, but very cheerful, and he quickly began to tell about his adventures in jumbled, confused words. And it was awfully strange to him that Mama didn’t laugh at his funny story.

  “You smell of wine,” Mama exclaimed sadly. Her drunken boy seemed so frightening to her that she just couldn’t believe her eyes. But Kolya happily related, “Mummy, we drank Madeira in the ravine, it was tasty as anything! And we sailed two little boats—two boats. So much fun—it was lovely, it really was!”

  Mama was horrified, but Kolya chattered on and on.

  Finally, Mama somehow managed to get Kolya to bed. He quickly fell asleep. Mama went over to the Zelenevs.

  XIII

  When Alexandra Dmitrievna got to the Zelenevs’, the head of the house said to his wife, “You sort it out among yourselves however you want.”

  And he retreated to the terrace.

  “Is your Vanya home?” asked Alexandra Dmitrievna, gasping with emotion. “He got my son plastered.”

  Mrs. Zelenev flushed, put her hands on her hips, gave a malicious laugh and said, “Oh, he’s home alright. Snoring. It seems he and your precious boy got themselves good and drunk—he stinks of wine. And we’ll see who got who plastered. He may be a bad boy, but such goings-on as this never happened before he took up with your kid.”

  Both women began to shower one another with reproaches and insults. Mrs. Glebov said, “Your son is the worst tearaway in the village. A boy oughtn’t to be allowed to behave as he does.”

  “What are you barking about?” Mrs. Zelenev answered rudely. “Your little falcon seems a right fine one, too, for all your talk. He drank away his shoes today; how do you like that? A fine one, that boy.”

  “What do you mean?!” Mrs. Glebov shrieked with indignation. “Your Vanya threw them in the stream!”

  Mrs. Zelenev gave a malicious laugh. “What’s all the fuss about,” she said. “They got sloshed! It doesn’t happen every day, thank God. Your Kolya’ll dry out soon enough. He’ll sleep it off and come to just fine.”

  Alexandra Dmitrievna started crying. Mrs. Zelenev gazed at her with disdainful sympathy. “Now don’t you be angry,” she said peaceably. “We’re not teaching him to do it. With kids you never know what’s next—you can’t keep ’em in cotton wool—and sometimes they get into mischief. Our Vanya’s going to get it, that’s for sure. But you give that silly little twit of yours plenty of kisses, and tomorrow he’ll cry you a river of tears, he’ll be so sorry. And you and I have nothing more to talk about.”

  She turned and walked away.

  XIV

  On the next day, when Vanya had slept it off, his father whipped him. It was early in the morning, but the neighbours listened with pleasure to how Vanya roared in a low, fierce voice.

  “I’m going to drown him,” Vanya said after the punishment.

  But no one was listening anymore. His father was hurrying to catch his train. His mother was seeing his father off …

  His father left. Vanya lay in the storeroom for a long time, motionless and silent. Then he got up and left the house. His mother shouted after him, “Vanya, don’t you dare go anywhere today. You stay home!”

  “You think I’m so stupid?” Vanya answered rudely. “As if I’m going to
sit at home.” He opened the gate and ran down the street. His mother started to chase after him, but it was clear from the start that she wasn’t going to catch him.

  “Marfa!” she shouted to the maid, who was grinning as she watched from the kitchen. “Run down the lane, get him.”

  “It’s too late, he’s already clean away,” Marfa answered, and laughed heartily. Her employer’s helpless fury amused her.

  “You’re gonna get it, you little scoundrel!” cried Mrs. Zelenev after her son.

  XV

  Vanya was sitting on the bank of the forest stream, gloomily staring at the water and thinking cruel, malicious thoughts. From time to time he whispered, “A stone around his neck, into a sack and into the water.” All his anger and hatred was concentrated on Kolya. The desire for Kolya’s death tormented and gladdened him.

  Drown him! But how to get him into the water?

  But anyway what for? Better to make it so he drowns on his own. He’s obedient. You can make him, convince him, charm him into it.

  A vicious smile contorted Vanya’s face into a cruel grimace. He ran into the forest and yelled loudly, “Hey, hey!”

  No one answered.

  “Let it be at night, then,” Vanya thought. “He’ll drown, and I’ll say I was sleeping when it happened.”

  And this made Vanya feel happy.

  “I’ll get away from the house on the sly,” he thought.

  XVI

  Kolya, after he woke up from a good night’s sleep, recalled yesterday’s events with horror and shame. He cried for a long time in Mama’s arms, repenting and promising never to do anything like that again. And Mama’s fears abated. She was terribly busy with her rehearsals.

  But Kolya longed to go back to the forest. As soon as he could, he ran off and made his way to the ravine.