No More Learning

"

"Excuse me, Monsieur Polzunkov. "

"What do you want? "

"Tell it more simply; don't over-exert yourself, please! "

"All right," said Osip Mihalitch, a little taken aback. "I went into the
house of Fedosey Nikolaitch (the house that he had bought). Fedosey
Nikolaitch, as you know, is not a mere colleague, but the full-blown
head of a department. I was announced, and was at once shown into the
study. I can see it now; the room was dark, almost dark, but candles
were not brought. Behold, Fedosey Nikolaitch walks in. There he and I
were left in the darkness. . . . "

"Whatever happened to you? " asked an officer.

"What do you suppose? " asked Polzunkov, turning promptly, with a
convulsively working face, to the young man with ringlets. "Well,
gentlemen, a strange circumstance occurred, though indeed there was
nothing strange in it: it was what is called an everyday affair--I
simply took out of my pocket a roll of paper . . . and he a roll of
paper. "

"Paper notes? "

"Paper notes; and we exchanged. "

"I don't mind betting that there's a flavour of bribery about it,"
observed a respectably dressed, closely cropped young gentleman.

"Bribery! " Polzunkov caught him up.

"'Oh, may I be a Liberal,
Such as many I have seen! '

If you, too, when it is your lot to serve in the provinces, do not warm
your hands at your country's hearth. . . . For as an author said: 'Even the
smoke of our native land is sweet to us. ' She is our Mother, gentlemen,
our Mother Russia; we are her babes, and so we suck her! "

There was a roar of laughter.

"Only would you believe it, gentlemen, I have never taken bribes? " said
Polzunkov, looking round at the whole company distrustfully.

A prolonged burst of Homeric laughter drowned Polzunkov's words in
guffaws.

"It really is so, gentlemen. . . . "

But here he stopped, still looking round at every one with a strange
expression of face; perhaps--who knows? --at that moment the thought came
into his mind that he was more honest than many of all that honourable
company. . . . Anyway, the serious expression of his face did not pass away
till the general merriment was quite over.

"And so," Polzunkov began again when all was still, "though I never did
take bribes, yet that time I transgressed; I put in my pocket a bribe
. . . from a bribe-taker . . . that is, there were certain papers in my
hands which, if I had cared to send to a certain person, it would have
gone ill with Fedosey Nikolaitch. "

"So then he bought them from you? "

"He did. "

"Did he give much? "

"He gave as much as many a man nowadays would sell his conscience for
complete, with all its variations . . . if only he could get anything for
it. But I felt as though I were scalded when I put the money in my
pocket. I really don't understand what always comes over me,
gentlemen--but I was more dead than alive, my lips twitched and my legs
trembled; well, I was to blame, to blame, entirely to blame. I was
utterly conscience-stricken; I was ready to beg Fedosey Nikolaitch's
forgiveness. "

"Well, what did he do--did he forgive you? "

"But I didn't ask his forgiveness. . . . I only mean that that is how I
felt. Then I have a sensitive heart, you know. I saw he was looking me
straight in the face. 'Have you no fear of God, Osip Mihailitch? ' said
he. Well, what could I do? From a feeling of propriety I put my head on
one side and I flung up my hands. 'In what way,' said I, 'have I no fear
of God, Fedosey Nikolaitch? ' But I just said that from a feeling of
propriety. . . . I was ready to sink into the earth. 'After being so long a
friend of our family, after being, I may say, like a son--and who knows
what Heaven had in store for us, Osip Mihailitch? --and all of a sudden
to inform against me--to think of that now! . . . What am I to think of
mankind after that, Osip Mihailitch? ' Yes, gentlemen, he did read me a
lecture! 'Come,' he said, 'you tell me what I am to think of mankind
after that, Osip Mihailitch. ' 'What is he to think? ' I thought; and do
you know, there was a lump in my throat, and my voice was quivering, and
knowing my hateful weakness, I snatched up my hat. 'Where are you off
to, Osip Mihailitch? Surely on the eve of such a day you cannot bear
malice against me? What wrong have I done you? . . . ' 'Fedosey Nikolaitch,'
I said, 'Fedosey Nikolaitch. . . . ' In fact, I melted, gentlemen, I melted
like a sugar-stick. And the roll of notes that was lying in my pocket,
that, too, seemed screaming out: 'You ungrateful brigand, you accursed
thief! ' It seemed to weigh a hundredweight . . . (if only it had weighed a
hundredweight! ). . . . 'I see,' says Fedosey Nikolaitch, 'I see your
penitence . . . you know to-morrow. . . . ' 'St. Mary of Egypt's day. . . . '
'Well, don't weep,' said Fedosey Nikolaitch, 'that's enough: you've
erred, and you are penitent! Come along! Maybe I may succeed in bringing
you back again into the true path,' says he . . . 'maybe, my modest
Penates' (yes,'Penates,' I remember he used that expression, the rascal)
'will warm,' says he, 'your harden . . . I will not say hardened, but
erring heart. . . . ' He took me by the arm, gentlemen, and led me to his
family circle. A cold shiver ran down my back; I shuddered! I thought
with what eyes shall I present myself--you must know, gentlemen . . . eh,
what shall I say? --a delicate position had arisen here. "

"Not Madame Polzunkov? "

"Marya Fedosyevna, only she was not destined, you know, to bear the name
you have given her; she did not attain that honour. Fedosey Nikolaitch
was right, you see, when he said that I was almost looked upon as a son
in the house; it had been so, indeed, six months before, when a certain
retired junker called Mihailo Maximitch Dvigailov, was still living. But
by God's will he died, and he put off settling his affairs till death
settled his business for him. "

"Ough! "

"Well, never mind, gentlemen, forgive me, it was a slip of the tongue.
It's a bad pun, but it doesn't matter it's being bad--what happened was
far worse, when I was left, so to say, with nothing in prospect but a
bullet through the brain, for that junker, though he would not admit me
into his house (he lived in grand style, for he had always known how to
feather his nest), yet perhaps correctly he believed me to be his son. "

"Aha! "

"Yes, that was how it was! So they began to cold-shoulder me at Fedosey
Nikolaitch's. I noticed things, I kept quiet; but all at once, unluckily
for me (or perhaps luckily! ), a cavalry officer galloped into our little
town like snow on our head. His business--buying horses for the
army--was light and active, in cavalry style, but he settled himself
solidly at Fedosey Nikolaitch's, as though he were laying siege to it! I
approached the subject in a roundabout way, as my nasty habit is; I said
one thing and another, asking him what I had done to be treated so,
saying that I was almost like a son to him, and when might I expect him
to behave more like a father. . . . Well, he began answering me. And when
he begins to speak you are in for a regular epic in twelve cantos, and
all you can do is to listen, lick your lips and throw up your hands in
delight. And not a ha'p'orth of sense, at least there's no making out
the sense. You stand puzzled like a fool--he puts you in a fog, he
twists about like an eel and wriggles away from you. It's a special
gift, a real gift--it's enough to frighten people even if it is no
concern of theirs. I tried one thing and another, and went hither and
thither. I took the lady songs and presented her with sweets and thought
of witty things to say to her. I tried sighing and groaning. 'My heart
aches,' I said, 'it aches from love. ' And I went in for tears and secret
explanations. Man is foolish, you know. . . . I never reminded myself that
I was thirty . . . not a bit of it! I tried all my arts. It was no go. It
was a failure, and I gained nothing but jeers and gibes. I was
indignant, I was choking with anger. I slunk off and would not set foot
in the house. I thought and thought and made up my mind to denounce him.
Well, of course, it was a shabby thing--I meant to give away a friend, I
confess. I had heaps of material and splendid material--a grand case. It
brought me fifteen hundred roubles when I changed it and my report on it
for bank notes! "

"Ah, so that was the bribe! "

"Yes, sir, that was the bribe--and it was a bribe-taker who had to pay
it--and I didn't do wrong, I can assure you! Well, now I will go on: he
drew me, if you will kindly remember, more dead than alive into the room
where they were having tea. They all met me, seeming as it were
offended, that is, not exactly offended, but hurt--so hurt that it was
simply. . . . They seemed shattered, absolutely shattered, and at the same
time there was a look of becoming dignity on their faces, a gravity in
their expression, something fatherly, parental . . . the prodigal son had
come back to them--that's what it had come to! They made me sit down to
tea, but there was no need to do that: I felt as though a samovar was
toiling in my bosom and my feet were like ice. I was humbled, I was
cowed.
Marya Fominishna, his wife, addressed me familiarly from the
first word.

"'How is it you have grown so thin, my boy? '

"'I've not been very well, Marya Fominishna,' I said. My wretched voice
shook.

"And then quite suddenly--she must have been waiting for a chance to get
a dig at me, the old snake--she said--

"'I suppose your conscience felt ill at ease, Osip Mihalitch, my dear!
Our fatherly hospitality was a reproach to you! You have been punished
for the tears I have shed. '

"Yes, upon my word, she really said that--she had the conscience to say
it. Why, that was nothing to her, she was a terror! She did nothing but
sit there and pour out tea. But if you were in the market, my darling, I
thought you'd shout louder than any fishwife there. . . . That's the kind
of woman she was. And then, to my undoing, the daughter, Marya
Fedosyevna, came in, in all her innocence, a little pale and her eyes
red as though she had been weeping. I was bowled over on the spot like a
fool. But it turned out afterwards that the tears were a tribute to the
cavalry officer. He had made tracks for home and taken his hook for good
and all; for you know it was high time for him to be off--I may as well
mention the fact here; not that his leave was up precisely, but you
see. . . . It was only later that the loving parents grasped the position
and had found out all that had happened. . . . What could they do? They
hushed their trouble up--an addition to the family!

"Well, I could not help it--as soon as I looked at her I was done for; I
stole a glance at my hat, I wanted to get up and make off. But there was
no chance of that, they took away my hat. . . . I must confess, I did think
of getting off without it. 'Well! ' I thought--but no, they latched the
doors. There followed friendly jokes, winking, little airs and graces. I
was overcome with embarrassment, said something stupid, talked nonsense,
about love. My charmer sat down to the piano and with an air of wounded
feeling sang the song about the hussar who leaned upon the sword--that
finished me off!

"'Well,' said Fedosey Nikolaitch, 'all is forgotten, come to my arms! '

"I fell just as I was, with my face on his waistcoat.

"'My benefactor! You are a father to me! ' said I. And I shed floods of
hot tears. Lord, have mercy on us, what a to-do there was! He cried, his
good lady cried, Mashenka cried . . . there was a flaxen-headed creature
there, she cried too. . . . That wasn't enough: the younger children crept
out of all the corners (the Lord had filled their quiver full) and they
howled too. . . . Such tears, such emotion, such joy! They found their
prodigal, it was like a soldier's return to his home. Then followed
refreshments, we played forfeits, and 'I have a pain'--'Where is
it? '--'In my heart'--'Who gave it you? ' My charmer blushed. The old man
and I had some punch--they won me over and did for me completely.

"I returned to my grandmother with my head in a whirl. I was laughing
all the way home; for full two hours I paced up and down our little
room. I waked up my old granny and told her of my happiness.

"'But did he give you any money, the brigand? '

"'He did, granny, he did, my dear--luck has come to us all of a heap:
we've only to open our hand and take it. '

"I waked up Sofron.

"'Sofron,' I said, 'take off my boots. '

"Sofron pulled off my boots.

"'Come, Sofron, congratulate me now, give me a kiss! I am going to get
married, my lad, I am going to get married. You can get jolly drunk
to-morrow, you can have a spree, my dear soul--your master is getting
married. '

"My heart was full of jokes and laughter. I was beginning to drop off to
sleep, but something made me get up again. I sat in thought: to-morrow
is the first of April, a bright and playful day--what should I do? And I
thought of something. Why, gentlemen, I got out of bed, lighted a
candle, and sat down to the writing-table just as I was. I was in a
fever of excitement, quite carried away--you know, gentlemen, what it is
when a man is quite carried away? I wallowed joyfully in the mud, my
dear friends. You see what I am like; they take something from you, and
you give them something else as well and say, 'Take that, too. ' They
strike you on the cheek and in your joy you offer them your whole back.
Then they try to lure you like a dog with a bun, and you embrace them
with your foolish paws and fall to kissing them with all your heart and
soul. Why, see what I am doing now, gentlemen! You are laughing and
whispering--I see it! After I have told you all my story you will begin
to turn me into ridicule, you will begin to attack me, but yet I go on
talking and talking and talking! And who tells me to? Who drives me to
do it? Who is standing behind my back whispering to me, 'Speak, speak
and tell them'? And yet I do talk, I go on telling you, I try to please
you as though you were my brothers, all my dearest friends. . . . Ech! "

The laughter which had sprung up by degrees on all sides completely
drowned at last the voice of the speaker, who really seemed worked up
into a sort of ecstasy. He paused, for several minutes his eyes strayed
about the company, then suddenly, as though carried away by a whirlwind,
he waved his hand, burst out laughing himself, as though he really found
his position amusing, and fell to telling his story again.

"I scarcely slept all night, gentlemen. I was scribbling all night: you
see, I thought of a trick. Ech, gentlemen, the very thought of it makes
me ashamed. It wouldn't have been so bad if it all had been done at
night--I might have been drunk, blundered, been silly and talked
nonsense--but not a bit of it! I woke up in the morning as soon as it
was light, I hadn't slept more than an hour or two, and was in the same
mind. I dressed, I washed, I curled and pomaded my hair, put on my new
dress coat and went straight off to spend the holiday with Fedosey
Nikolaitch, and I kept the joke I had written in my hat. He met me again
with open arms, and invited me again to his fatherly waistcoat. But I
assumed an air of dignity. I had the joke I thought of the night before
in my mind. I drew a step back.

"'No, Fedosey Nikolaitch, but will you please read this letter,' and I
gave it him together with my daily report. And do you know what was in
it? Why, 'for such and such reasons the aforesaid Osip Mihalitch asks to
be discharged,' and under my petition I signed my full rank! Just think
what a notion! Good Lord, it was the cleverest thing I could think of!
As to-day was the first of April, I was pretending, for the sake of a
joke, that my resentment was not over, that I had changed my mind in the
night and was grumpy, and more offended than ever, as though to say, 'My
dear benefactor, I don't want to know you nor your daughter either. I
put the money in my pocket yesterday, so I am secure--so here's my
petition for a transfer to be discharged. I don't care to serve under
such a chief as Fedosey Nikolaitch. I want to go into a different office
and then, maybe, I'll inform. ' I pretended to be a regular scoundrel, I
wanted to frighten them. And a nice way of frightening them, wasn't it?
A pretty thing, gentlemen, wasn't it? You see, my heart had grown tender
towards them since the day before, so I thought I would have a little
joke at the family--I would tease the fatherly heart of Fedosey
Nikolaitch.

"As soon as he took my letter and opened it, I saw his whole countenance
change.

"'What's the meaning of this, Osip Mihalitch? '

"And like a little fool I said--

"'The first of April! Many happy returns of the day, Fedosey
Nikolaitch! ' just like a silly school-boy who hides behind his
grandmother's arm-chair and then shouts 'oof' into her ear suddenly at
the top of his voice, meaning to frighten her. Yes . . . yes, I feel quite
ashamed to talk about it, gentlemen! No, I won't tell you. "

"Nonsense! What happened then? "

"Nonsense, nonsense! Tell us! Yes, do," rose on all sides.

"There was an outcry and a hullabaloo, my dear friends! Such
exclamations of surprise! And 'you mischievous fellow, you naughty man,'
and what a fright I had given them--and all so sweet that I felt ashamed
and wondered how such a holy place could be profaned by a sinner like
me.

"'Well, my dear boy,' piped the mamma, 'you gave me such a fright that
my legs are all of a tremble still, I can hardly stand on my feet! I ran
to Masha as though I were crazy: "Mashenka," I said, "what will become
of us! See how _your_ friend has turned out! " and I was unjust to you,
my dear boy. You must forgive an old woman like me, I was taken in!
Well, I thought, when he got home last night, he got home late, he began
thinking and perhaps he fancied that we sent for him on purpose,
yesterday, that we wanted to get hold of him. I turned cold at the
thought! Give over, Mashenka, don't go on winking at me--Osip Mihalitch
isn't a stranger! I am your mother, I am not likely to say any harm!
Thank God, I am not twenty, but turned forty-five. '

"Well, gentlemen, I almost flopped at her feet on the spot. Again there
were tears, again there were kisses. Jokes began. Fedosey Nikolaitch,
too, thought he would make April fools of us. He told us the fiery bird
had flown up with a letter in her diamond beak! He tried to take us in,
too--didn't we laugh? weren't we touched? Foo! I feel ashamed to talk
about it.

"Well, my good friends, the end is not far off now. One day
passed, two, three, a week; I was regularly engaged to her. I should
think so! The wedding rings were ordered, the day was fixed, only they
did not want to make it public for a time--they wanted to wait for the
Inspector's visit to be over. I was all impatience for the Inspector's
arrival--my happiness depended upon him. I was in a hurry to get his
visit over. And in the excitement and rejoicing Fedosey Nikolaitch threw
all the work upon me: writing up the accounts, making up the reports,
checking the books, balancing the totals. I found things in terrible
disorder--everything had been neglected, there were muddles and
irregularities everywhere. Well, I thought, I must do my best for my
father-in-law! And he was ailing all the time, he was taken ill, it
appears; he seemed to get worse day by day. And, indeed, I grew as thin
as a rake myself, I was afraid I would break down. However, I finished
the work grandly. I got things straight for him in time.

"Suddenly they sent a messenger for me. I ran headlong--what could it
be? I saw my Fedosey Nikolaitch, his head bandaged up in a vinegar
compress, frowning, sighing, and moaning.

"'My dear boy, my son,' he said, 'if I die, to whom shall I leave you,
my darlings? '

"His wife trailed in with all his children; Mashenka was in tears and I
blubbered, too.

"'Oh no,' he said. 'God will be merciful, He will not visit my
transgressions on you. '

"Then he dismissed them all, told me to shut the door after them, and we
were left alone, _tête-à-tête_.

"'I have a favour to ask of you. '

"'What favour? '

"'Well, my dear boy, there is no rest for me even on my deathbed. I am
in want. '

"'How so? ' I positively flushed crimson, I could hardly speak.

"'Why, I had to pay some of my own money into the Treasury. I grudge
nothing for the public weal, my boy! I don't grudge my life. Don't you
imagine any ill. I am sad to think that slanderers have blackened my
name to you. . . . You were mistaken, my hair has gone white from grief.
The Inspector is coming down upon us and Matveyev is seven thousand
roubles short, and I shall have to answer for it. . . . Who else? It will
be visited upon me, my boy: where were my eyes? And how can we get it
from Matveyev? He has had trouble enough already: why should I bring the
poor fellow to ruin?