No More Learning

Arkasha! But do you understand, I can't--it is utterly
impossible! " cried Vasya, helplessly wriggling out of his friend's
powerful clutches, "you know there are subjects! "

"How--subjects? ". . .

"Why, subjects that you can't talk about in such a position without
losing your dignity; it's utterly impossible; it would make it
ridiculous, and this is not a ridiculous matter, it is important. "

"Here, he's going in for being important! That's a new idea! You tell me
so as to make me laugh, that's how you must tell me; I don't want
anything important; or else you are no true friend of mine. Do you call
yourself a friend? Eh? "

"Arkasha, I really can't! "

"Well, I don't want to hear. . . . "

"Well, Arkasha! " began Vasya, lying across the bed and doing his utmost
to put all the dignity possible into his words. "Arkasha! If you like, I
will tell you; only. . . . "

"Well, what? . . . "

"Well, I am engaged to be married! "

Without uttering another word Arkady Ivanovitch took Vasya up in his
arms like a baby, though the latter was by no means short, but rather
long and thin, and began dexterously carrying him up and down the room,
pretending that he was hushing him to sleep.

"I'll put you in your swaddling clothes, Master Bridegroom," he kept
saying. But seeing that Vasya lay in his arms, not stirring or uttering
a word, he thought better of it at once, and reflecting that the joke
had gone too far, set him down in the middle of the room and kissed him
on the cheek in the most genuine and friendly way.

"Vasya, you are not angry? "

"Arkasha, listen. . . . "

"Come, it's New Year's Eve. "

"Oh, I'm all right; but why are you such a madman, such a scatterbrain?
How many times I have told you: Arkasha, it's really not funny, not
funny at all! "

"Oh, well, you are not angry? "

"Oh, I'm all right; am I ever angry with any one! But you have wounded
me, do you understand? "

"But how have I wounded you? In what way? "

"I come to you as to a friend, with a full heart, to pour out my soul to
you, to tell you of my happiness. . . . "

"What happiness? Why don't you speak? . . . "

"Oh, well, I am going to get married! " Vasya answered with vexation, for
he really was a little exasperated.

"You! You are going to get married! So you really mean it? " Arkasha
cried at the top of his voice. "No, no . . . but what's this? He talks
like this and his tears are flowing. . . . Vasya, my little Vasya, don't,
my little son! Is it true, really? " And Arkady Ivanovitch flew to hug
him again.

"Well, do you see, how it is now? " said Vasya. "You are kind, of course,
you are a friend, I know that. I come to you with such joy, such
rapture, and all of a sudden I have to disclose all the joy of my heart,
all my rapture struggling across the bed, in an undignified way. . . . You
understand, Arkasha," Vasya went on, half laughing. "You see, it made it
seem comic: and in a sense I did not belong to myself at that minute. I
could not let this be slighted. . . . What's more, if you had asked me her
name, I swear, I would sooner you killed me than have answered you. "

"But, Vasya, why did you not speak! You should have told me all about it
sooner and I would not have played the fool! " cried Arkady Ivanovitch in
genuine despair.

"Come, that's enough, that's enough! Of course, that's how it is. . . . You
know what it all comes from--from my having a good heart. What vexes me
is, that I could not tell you as I wanted to, making you glad and happy,
telling you nicely and initiating you into my secret properly. . . .
Really, Arkasha, I love you so much that I believe if it were not for
you I shouldn't be getting married, and, in fact, I shouldn't be living
in this world at all! "

Arkady Ivanovitch, who was excessively sentimental, cried and laughed at
once as he listened to Vasya. Vasya did the same. Both flew to embrace
one another again and forgot the past.

"How is it--how is it? Tell me all about it, Vasya! I am astonished,
excuse me, brother, but I am utterly astonished; it's a perfect
thunderbolt, by Jove! Nonsense, nonsense, brother, you have made it up,
you've really made it up, you are telling fibs! " cried Arkady
Ivanovitch, and he actually looked into Vasya's face with genuine
uncertainty, but seeing in it the radiant confirmation of a positive
intention of being married as soon as possible, threw himself on the bed
and began rolling from side to side in ecstasy till the walls shook.

"Vasya, sit here," he said at last, sitting down on the bed.

"I really don't know, brother, where to begin! "

They looked at one another in joyful excitement.

"Who is she, Vasya? "

"The Artemyevs! . . . " Vasya pronounced, in a voice weak with emotion.

"No? "

"Well, I did buzz into your ears about them at first, and then I shut
up, and you noticed nothing. Ah, Arkasha, if you knew how hard it was to
keep it from you; but I was afraid, afraid to speak! I thought it would
all go wrong, and you know I was in love, Arkasha! My God! my God! You
see this was the trouble," he began, pausing continually from agitation,
"she had a suitor a year ago, but he was suddenly ordered somewhere; I
knew him--he was a fellow, bless him! Well, he did not write at all, he
simply vanished. They waited and waited, wondering what it meant. . . .
Four months ago he suddenly came back married, and has never set foot
within their doors! It was coarse--shabby! And they had no one to stand
up for them. She cried and cried, poor girl, and I fell in love with her
. . . indeed, I had been in love with her long before, all the time! I
began comforting her, and was always going there. . . . Well, and I really
don't know how it has all come about, only she came to love me; a week
ago I could not restrain myself, I cried, I sobbed, and told her
everything--well, that I love her--everything, in fact! . . . 'I am ready
to love you, too, Vassily Petrovitch, only I am a poor girl, don't make
a mock of me; I don't dare to love any one. ' Well, brother, you
understand! You understand? . . . On that we got engaged on the spot. I
kept thinking and thinking and thinking and thinking, I said to her,
'How are we to tell your mother? ' She said, 'It will be hard, wait a
little; she's afraid, and now maybe she would not let you have me; she
keeps crying, too. ' Without telling her I blurted it out to her mother
to-day. Lizanka fell on her knees before her, I did the same . . . well,
she gave us her blessing. Arkasha, Arkasha! My dear fellow! We will live
together. No, I won't part from you for anything. "

"Vasya, look at you as I may, I can't believe it. I don't believe it, I
swear. I keep feeling as though. . . . Listen, how can you be engaged to be
married? . . . How is it I didn't know, eh? Do you know, Vasya, I will
confess it to you now. I was thinking of getting married myself; but now
since you are going to be married, it is just as good! Be happy, be
happy! . . . "

"Brother, I feel so lighthearted now, there is such sweetness in my soul
. . . " said Vasya, getting up and pacing about the room excitedly. "Don't
you feel the same? We shall be poor, of course, but we shall be happy;
and you know it is not a wild fancy; our happiness is not a fairy tale;
we shall be happy in reality! . . . "

"Vasya, Vasya, listen! "

"What? " said Vasya, standing before Arkady Ivanovitch.

"The idea occurs to me; I am really afraid to say it to you. . . . Forgive
me, and settle my doubts. What are you going to live on? You know I am
delighted that you are going to be married, of course, I am delighted,
and I don't know what to do with myself, but--what are you going to live
on? Eh? "

"Oh, good Heavens!
What a fellow you are, Arkasha! " said Vasya, looking
at Nefedevitch in profound astonishment. "What do you mean? Even her old
mother, even she did not think of that for two minutes when I put it all
clearly before her. You had better ask what they are living on! They
have five hundred roubles a year between the three of them: the pension,
which is all they have, since the father died. She and her old mother
and her little brother, whose schooling is paid for out of that income
too--that is how they live! It's you and I are the capitalists! Some
good years it works out to as much as seven hundred for me. "

"I say, Vasya, excuse me; I really . . . you know I . . . I am only thinking
how to prevent things going wrong. How do you mean, seven hundred? It's
only three hundred. . . . "

"Three hundred! . . . And Yulian Mastakovitch? Have you forgotten him? "

"Yulian Mastakovitch? But you know that's uncertain, brother; that's not
the same thing as three hundred roubles of secure salary, where every
rouble is a friend you can trust. Yulian Mastakovitch, of course, he's a
great man, in fact, I respect him, I understand him, though he is so far
above us; and, by Jove, I love him, because he likes you and gives you
something for your work, though he might not pay you, but simply order a
clerk to work for him--but you will agree, Vasya. . . . Let me tell you,
too, I am not talking nonsense. I admit in all Petersburg you won't find
a handwriting like your handwriting, I am ready to allow that to you,"
Nefedevitch concluded, not without enthusiasm. "But, God forbid! you may
displease him all at once, you may not satisfy him, your work with him
may stop, he may take another clerk--all sorts of things may happen, in
fact! You know, Yulian Mastakovitch may be here to-day and gone
to-morrow. . . . "

"Well, Arkasha, the ceiling might fall on our heads this minute. "

"Oh, of course, of course, I mean nothing. "

"But listen, hear what I have got to say--you know, I don't see how he
can part with me. . . . No, hear what I have to say! hear what I have to
say! You see, I perform all my duties punctually; you know how kind he
is, you know, Arkasha, he gave me fifty roubles in silver to-day! "

"Did he really, Vasya? A bonus for you? "

"Bonus, indeed, it was out of his own pocket. He said: 'Why, you have
had no money for five months, brother, take some if you want it; thank
you, I am satisfied with you. '. . . Yes, really! 'Yes, you don't work for
me for nothing,' said he. He did, indeed, that's what he said. It
brought tears into my eyes, Arkasha. Good Heavens, yes! "

"I say, Vasya, have you finished copying those papers? . . . "

"No. . . . I haven't finished them yet. "

"Vas. . . ya! My angel! What have you been doing? "

"Listen, Arkasha, it doesn't matter, they are not wanted for another two
days, I have time enough. . . . "

"How is it you have not done them? "

"That's all right, that's all right. You look so horror-stricken that
you turn me inside out and make my heart ache! You are always going on
at me like this! He's for ever crying out: Oh, oh, oh! ! ! Only consider,
what does it matter? Why, I shall finish it, of course I shall finish
it. . . . "

"What if you don't finish it? " cried Arkady, jumping up, "and he has
made you a present to-day! And you going to be married. . . . Tut, tut,
tut! . . . "

"It's all right, it's all right," cried Shumkov, "I shall sit down
directly, I shall sit down this minute. "

"How did you come to leave it, Vasya? "

"Oh, Arkasha! How could I sit down to work! Have I been in a fit state?
Why, even at the office I could scarcely sit still, I could scarcely
bear the beating of my heart. . . . Oh! oh! Now I shall work all night, and
I shall work all to-morrow night, and the night after, too--and I shall
finish it. "

"Is there a great deal left? "

"Don't hinder me, for goodness' sake, don't hinder me; hold your
tongue. "

Arkady Ivanovitch went on tip-toe to the bed and sat down, then suddenly
wanted to get up, but was obliged to sit down again, remembering that he
might interrupt him, though he could not sit still for excitement: it
was evident that the news had thoroughly upset him, and the first thrill
of delight had not yet passed off. He glanced at Shumkov; the latter
glanced at him, smiled, and shook his finger at him, then, frowning
severely (as though all his energy and the success of his work depended
upon it), fixed his eyes on the papers.

It seemed that he, too, could not yet master his emotion; he kept
changing his pen, fidgeting in his chair, re-arranging things, and
setting to work again, but his hand trembled and refused to move.

"Arkasha, I've talked to them about you," he cried suddenly, as though
he had just remembered it.

"Yes," cried Arkasha, "I was just wanting to ask you that. Well? "

"Well, I'll tell you everything afterwards. Of course, it is my own
fault, but it quite went out of my head that I didn't mean to say
anything till I had written four pages, but I thought of you and of
them. I really can't write, brother, I keep thinking about you. . . . "

Vasya smiled.

A silence followed.

"Phew! What a horrid pen," cried Shumkov, flinging it on the table in
vexation. He took another.

"Vasya! listen! one word. . . . "

"Well, make haste, and for the last time. "

"Have you a great deal left to do? "

"Ah, brother! " Vasya frowned, as though there could be nothing more
terrible and murderous in the whole world than such a question. "A lot,
a fearful lot. "

"Do you know, I have an idea----"

"What? "

"Oh, never mind, never mind; go on writing. "

"Why, what? what? "

"It's past six, Vasya. "

Here Nefedevitch smiled and winked slyly at Vasya, though with a certain
timidity, not knowing how Vasya would take it.

"Well, what is it? " said Vasya, throwing down his pen, looking him
straight in the face and actually turning pale with excitement.

"Do you know what? "

"For goodness sake, what is it? "

"I tell you what, you are excited, you won't get much done. . . . Stop,
stop, stop! I have it, I have it--listen," said Nefedevitch, jumping up
from the bed in delight, preventing Vasya from speaking and doing his
utmost to ward off all objections; "first of all you must get calm, you
must pull yourself together, mustn't you? "

"Arkasha, Arkasha! " cried Vasya, jumping up from his chair, "I will work
all night, I will, really. "

"Of course, of course, you won't go to bed till morning. "

"I won't go to bed, I won't go to bed at all. "

"No, that won't do, that won't do: you must sleep, go to bed at five. I
will call you at eight. To-morrow is a holiday; you can sit and scribble
away all day long. . . . Then the night and--but have you a great deal left
to do? "

"Yes, look, look! "

Vasya, quivering with excitement and suspense, showed the manuscript:
"Look! "

"I say, brother, that's not much. "

"My dear fellow, there's some more of it," said Vasya, looking very
timidly at Nefedevitch, as though the decision whether he was to go or
not depended upon the latter.

"How much? "

"Two signatures. "

"Well, what's that? Come, I tell you what. We shall have time to finish
it, by Jove, we shall! "

"Arkasha! "

"Vasya, listen! To-night, on New Year's Eve, every one is at home with
his family. You and I are the only ones without a home or relations. . . .
Oh, Vasya! "

Nefedevitch clutched Vasya and hugged him in his leonine arms.

"Arkasha, it's settled. "

"Vasya, boy, I only wanted to say this. You see, Vasya--listen,
bandy-legs, listen! . . . "

Arkady stopped, with his mouth open, because he could not speak for
delight. Vasya held him by the shoulders, gazed into his face and moved
his lips, as though he wanted to speak for him.

"Well," he brought out at last.

"Introduce me to them to-day. "

"Arkady, let us go to tea there.