‘I beg your pardon,’ I said, walking up to the calash, ‘I don’t suppose you’ll ever visit my uncle again?’

  ‘Not visit Yegor Ilyich ever again, you say? That’s a lie! You think I’m a man of my word — you think I’d be able to stay away? I’m weak and lacking in manly resolution, that’s my undoing. Before the week’s out I’ll be making my way back, that’s for sure. Don’t ask me why! I’ve absolutely no idea, but I shall go, to do battle with Foma again. It’s my undoing, good sir! The Lord has sent him to punish me for my sins. It’s my womanish character, spineless creature that I am. I’m a coward, sir, a coward of the first order …’

  In spite of all, we parted friends, and Mr Bakhcheyev even invited me to his home for dinner.

  ‘Come, my friend, do come for dinner. I’ve got vodka that’s come walking all the way from Kiev and my cook’s been to Paris. The scoundrel will lay on such a beast of a feast you’ll be begging on your knees for more. A learned man! He’s not been flogged lately, though; he’s taken to the bottle again … good of you to remind me … Do come! I’d have invited you to dine with me today, but I’m quite out of sorts, all to pieces — sick inside. I’m a sick man, you know … It’s my corpulence. You probably don’t believe me … Well, look after yourself, my friend! Time for me to set sail. There, your transport has been put right too. And tell that Foma to keep away from me, or I’ll give him such a reception that he …’

  But his last words were no longer audible. The calash, eagerly drawn by four powerful horses, vanished in a cloud of dust. My own carriage was brought up; I climbed in, and soon the little town was left behind. ‘Of course that gentleman was exaggerating,’ I thought, ‘he was too carried away by anger, he can’t possibly be impartial. On the other hand, it’s fascinating what he had to say about my uncle. That’s two people now who agree he’s in love with this girl … Hm! I’m beginning to wonder if our marriage will take place after all.’ For the first time I was assailed by strong doubts.

  3

  Uncle

  I must admit my spirits had flagged a little. As soon as I drove into Stepanchikovo all my romantic notions suddenly struck me as extremely out of place and even foolish. It was about five in the afternoon. The road led past the garden of the manor. Once again, after long years of absence, I saw the huge garden which I remembered from the happy but all too brief days of my early childhood, days of which I was to dream fondly later in the dormitories of the various boarding-schools charged with my education. I alighted briskly and went straight through the garden towards the house. I was most anxious to arrive unannounced, to question somebody, feel my way a little first, and above all, to have a good heart-to-heart talk with my uncle. I was not disappointed. At the end of the avenue of ancient lime trees I came to the terrace, where a French window led into the house. The terrace was surrounded with flower beds and pots of precious plants. Here I ran into one of the servants, old Gavrila, who had looked after me when I was a child and was now my uncle’s valet. The old man was wearing spectacles and clutched an exercise book, to which he kept referring with unusual attention. Two years previously my uncle had brought him to St Petersburg where we had seen each other, and he therefore recognized me immediately. With tears of joy he rushed to kiss my hands, and his spectacles flew off his nose to the ground. I was deeply touched by such devotion. However, I was so disturbed by what Mr Bakhcheyev had said that I had eyes only for the suspicious exercise book which Gavrila was holding.

  ‘What’s that, Gavrila? Surely you too aren’t being made to study French?’ I asked the old man.

  ‘I am, sir, like a parrot in my old age,’ he replied sadly.

  ‘Is it Foma himself who teaches you?’

  ‘Yes, sir. And a clever man he must be.’

  ‘Yes, indeed. Does he teach you by spoken word?’

  ‘No, by exercise book, sir.’

  ‘Is that what you have there? Ah! French words in the Russian alphabet — very clever! And you’re not ashamed, Gavrila, to be taken in by this blockhead, this blithering idiot?’ I exclaimed, in a flash forgetting all my noble surmises for which Mr Bakhcheyev had only just taken me to task.

  ‘How can he be a fool, sir,’ the old man replied, ‘and lord it over all the household?’

  ‘Hm! You may be right, Gavrila,’ I mumbled, stopped short by this remark. ‘Take me to my uncle!’

  ‘Oh my good sir! I wouldn’t show my face there, I daren’t. I’m even scared of him now. That’s why I sit here moping and nip behind the flower beds every time he comes by.’

  ‘What are you afraid of exactly?’

  ‘I didn’t know my lesson the other day. Foma Fomich tried to make me get down on my knees as a punishment, but I wouldn’t do it. I’m too old, my good Sergey Aleksandrovich, to have that kind of joke played on me! My master was annoyed with me for being so contrary. “Can’t you understand, you old fool, it’s your education he’s concerned about, he wants to improve your elocution.” So here I am, swotting up vocabulary. Foma Fomich said he’d give me another test tonight.’

  Something did not seem to make sense. I felt there was more to this business with the French language than Gavrila was able to explain.

  ‘One more question, Gavrila: what is he like? Is he good-looking, tall or what?’

  ‘Foma? Foma Fomich? No, sir, he’s a shabby-looking creature if ever there was one.’

  ‘Hm! Wait, Gavrila; everything will probably turn out all right; in fact, I promise it will. But … where’s Uncle?’

  ‘Behind the stables talking to the peasants. The old men of Kapitonovka have come with a petition. They’ve heard that they’re to be signed over to Foma Fomich. They’ve come to plead for mercy.’

  ‘But why behind the stables?’

  ‘He’s scared, sir …’

  And indeed, I found my uncle behind the stables. He was standing in a yard facing a group of peasants who were bowing and earnestly pleading with him. Uncle was explaining something to them with fervour. I called out and approached him. He turned and we rushed to embrace each other.

  He was overjoyed to see me; his happiness knew no bounds. He kept embracing me, shaking my hands … as if his own son had been restored to him from some mortal danger; indeed, as if he too had found himself delivered from mortal danger and as a result of my arrival his fears had been dispelled and eternal luck and happiness lavished on him and all his loved ones. My uncle could never consent to be happy in isolation. After the initial moments of excitement he suddenly grew agitated, and eventually became totally flustered and confused. He kept showering me with questions and offered to take me immediately to meet the family. We were just on the point of going, when instead he turned back and decided to introduce me to the Kapitonovka peasants first. Then, I remember, without rhyme or reason, he began to talk about a certain Mr Korovkin, an unusual person whom he had met on the high road three days before and whom he was now anxiously expecting to arrive on a visit. The next moment he was off on another topic quite unconnected with Korovkin. I watched him with admiration. In reply to his hurried questions I explained that I intended to continue my studies of the sciences rather than to take up a post. As soon as the conversation touched upon science, my uncle wrinkled his brow and assumed an unusually grave countenance. On learning that I had lately become interested in mineralogy, he raised his head and looked about him proudly, as if it was he, without any outside assistance, who had discovered mineralogy and written all there was to write about it. The word ‘science’, as I have already mentioned, commanded his utmost respect, the more so since he himself understood nothing of it.

  ‘It’s marvellous! There are people who know all the ins and outs,’ he had once said to me, his eyes sparkling with delight. ‘You sit amongst them listening to all their talk, and you know you can’t make any sense of any of it, yet what a treat it is to listen! And why? Because it’s good, it’s wise, it will lead to universal happiness! That much I do understand. Take me now, steaming along by train — one day this little Ilyushka of mine will probably fly through the air … Then there is trade, industry — various branches, as it were … what I mean is, no matter how you look at it, the benefit is indisputable … it is, isn’t it?’

  But let us return to our meeting.

  ‘You just wait, you wait and see,’ he rattled off, rubbing his hands gleefully. ‘You’ll see a man! A rare man indeed, I tell you, a man of learning, a man of science; he’ll go down in history. Not bad, is it: “go down in history”? Foma explained it to me … Just wait, I’ll introduce you.’

  ‘Are you talking about Foma Fomich, Uncle?’

  ‘No, no, my boy! I’m talking about Korovkin now. Foma as well, of course, he too … But this time I was thinking of Korovkin.’ For some reason he blushed and looked embarrassed as soon as Foma was brought into the conversation.

  ‘What is his field of study, Uncle?’

  ‘Oh, he just studies, my boy, just studies, studies in general. I’m not really quite sure what, but he studies all right. The things he had to say about the railways! — And you know what?’ Uncle added in a whisper, conspiratorially screwing up his right eye: ‘A touch of the freethinker in him too, I noticed; especially when he started talking about family happiness … A pity, though, I followed so little of what he had to say — there wasn’t the time — or I’d have given it all to you in detail. And what’s more, he’s a thorough gentleman! I invited him to stay with us for a while. He’ll be here at any moment.’

  All this while the peasants had been staring at me with round eyes and mouths agape, as at some freak.

  ‘Listen, Uncle,’ I interrupted, ‘don’t let me stop these good people talking to you. They’ve come on business. What is it? I must admit, I suspect what it might be, and I’ll gladly listen to what they have to say …’

  Uncle became restless and flustered again.

  ‘Oh yes! I nearly forgot! Well, you see … what’s to be done with them? They’ve got it into their heads — I’d like to know whose bright idea it was in the first place — that all of them on the Kapitonovka estate — do you remember Kapitonovka? Those long walks we used to go on there in the evenings, with Katya, bless her soul … that the whole lot of them, sixty-eight souls in all, are to be signed over to Foma! “We don’t want to leave you,” they tell me, “and that’s that.”’

  ‘So it’s not true, Uncle? You’re not giving him Kapitonovka?’ I cried in something akin to exultation.

  ‘Not at all! I wouldn’t dream of it! Who told you that? It was a slip of the tongue on my part long ago, and now everyone’s repeating it. But why should everybody dislike Foma so? Just wait, Sergey, I’ll introduce you to him.’ He glanced timidly at me as if already sensing my opposition to Foma. ‘What a man …’

  ‘We want nobody else but you! Nobody else!’ the peasants suddenly wailed in chorus. ‘You’re our lord and we’re your children!’

  ‘Listen, Uncle,’ I replied, ‘I’ve not met Foma Fomich yet, but … you see … I have heard a little about him. You may as well know, I happened to meet Mr Bakhcheyev today. And anyway, I’ve got my own ideas. Now, Uncle, please don’t keep these people waiting any longer. Let’s go and talk, just the two of us. That’s what I came for …’

  ‘That’s right, that’s right!’ Uncle agreed, ‘that’s right! We’ll deal with the peasants and then have a friendly, thorough, heart-to-heart talk! Well,’ he continued to talk rapidly, turning to the peasants, ‘you may go now, my good lads. And in future come to me, always come to me whenever you need to: just come straight to me, any time you like.’

  ‘Bless you, kind sir! You’re our lord and we’re your children!’ the peasants cried out again. ‘Don’t let Foma Fomich take advantage of us! We beg you, poor folk that we are!’

  ‘Listen to the fools! Nobody’s getting rid of you, I tell you!’

  ‘Them studies will be the end of us, sir! He’s already taught the living daylights out of people round here.’

  ‘Do you mean to say he’s trying to teach you French too?’ I exclaimed, almost terrified by the thought.

  ‘No, sir, the Lord has spared us so far!’ one peasant replied, evidently a great talker, a ginger-haired man with a huge bald patch on the back of his head and sporting a long, wispy, wedge-shaped beard which seemed to acquire a life of its own whenever he opened his mouth. ‘No, master, the Lord has spared us so far.’

  ‘What in heaven’s name does he teach you?’

  ‘Well, sir, if you ask me, it’s like buying a golden casket to store copper coins.’

  ‘What do you mean, copper coins?’

  ‘Seryozha! You’ve got it all wrong; it’s all lies!’ my uncle exclaimed, turning red in acute embarrassment. ‘These fools misunderstood what he said to them! He merely … what’s it got to do with copper coins? And there’s no need for you to act so clever and talk so much’ — Uncle turned to the ginger-haired peasant reproachfully — ‘it was all for your own good, you idiot, so why don’t you keep your mouth shut if you don’t understand!’

  ‘I beg your pardon, Uncle, what about the French lessons?’

  ‘For elocution, Seryozha, just to improve their elocution,’ my uncle retorted in a plaintive tone. ‘He said himself it was for their elocution … Besides, something most unusual has happened here — you know nothing about it, so you can’t judge. Make sure of the facts before you criticize … It’s easy enough to criticize!’

  ‘And what have you got to say for yourselves!’ I cried out, turning to the peasants in a temper. ‘Couldn’t you have come straight out with it and told him plainly what ought and what ought not to be done? Have you lost your tongues?’

  ‘It’s not for the mice to bell the cat, sir! “I’m teaching you manners and clean habits, you clodhopper,” he says. “Why’s your shirt filthy?” ’Cos it lives in sweat, that’s why! Can’t change it every day. Not just the clean I say’ll go to heaven, nor all the dirty down to hell.’

  ‘He turns up at the threshing shed the other day,’ another peasant chimed in, a tall, lean man in patched clothes and wearing the thinnest imaginable bast sandals, and evidently one of those people for whom grumbling is second nature and who seem to lie in wait for every opportunity to release some poisonous comment. He had been hiding behind the backs of the other peasants listening in gloomy silence with an ironic, bitterly cunning smile playing about his lips. ‘He turns up at the threshing shed and says: “Do you know how many versts it is to the sun?” Now who would know a thing like that? Such learning is for the gentlefolk, not for the likes of us. “You’re an idiot, a yokel,” he says, “you don’t know what’s good for you! But I,” he says, “I’m an astrolomer! There isn’t a planid in God’s heaven I can’t put a name to.”’

  ‘Well, and did he tell you how many versts it is to the sun?’ Uncle butted in, cheering suddenly and winking joyfully at me as if to say: ‘Just wait and see now!’

  ‘Yes, he said it was a lot,’ the peasant replied reluctantly, obviously unprepared for such a question.

  ‘Well, how many did he say, how many exactly?’

  ‘Your honour will know better; we’re ignorant folk.’

  ‘No, my friend, I know how far it is, but do you remember?’

  ‘A few hundred, or thousand, he said. Quite a lot. More than three cart-loads.’

  ‘And what did you think? You probably expected it to be no more than a verst, within arm’s reach? No, my good man, the earth, see, is like a round ball — do you follow? …’ my uncle continued, describing a spherical shape in the air with his hands.

  The peasant smiled bitterly.

  ‘Yes, just like a ball! It’s up in the air all by itself, spinning round and round the sun. But the sun itself is motionless. It only looks as though it’s moving. Wonderful, isn’t it? Captain Cook, the navigator, discovered all this … Or was it someone else, dammit?’ he added in a lowered voice, turning to me. ‘I’m dreadfully ignorant really, my boy … Do you know how far it is to the sun?’

  ‘I do, Uncle,’ I said, observing the whole scene in astonishment, ‘only the way I look at it, though ignorance is tantamount to slovenliness … on the other hand … to teach astronomy to the peasants …’

  ‘Precisely, precisely, precisely — slovenliness!’ Uncle echoed, delighted with my words which struck him as being particularly apt. ‘It’s a splendid thought. Of course, slovenliness! I always said so … all right, I never said so, but I felt it. Do you hear me!’ he cried to the peasants. ‘Ignorance is slovenliness, it’s filth. That’s precisely why Foma was so keen to teach you. He meant it all for your own good. Science, like military service, can lead to every rank and honour. There, that’s science for you now! All right, all right, my good lads! God be with you and I’m glad, very glad … rest assured, I shan’t abandon you.’

  ‘Protect us, dear father!’

  ‘Don’t let us come to grief!’

  And the peasants fell at his feet.

  ‘Now, now, what nonsense. You kneel only for the Tsar or the Almighty, not for me … Well, off you go now, behave yourselves and you’ll be kindly treated … and all that … You know,’ he said, suddenly turning to me and beaming with joy after the peasants had departed, ‘there’s nothing like a kind word for the poor devils, and a little present won’t do any harm either — eh? What d’you think? To celebrate your arrival … shall I give them something or not?’

  ‘Uncle, you really are a Frol Silin, a charitable man, it seems to me.’

  ‘There’s no other way, no other way, my boy: don’t worry. I’ve been wanting to make them a gift for some time now,’ he added, as if apologizing. ‘Did it strike you as ridiculous, Seryozha, to see me dealing out science to the peasants? It was nothing but the sheer joy of seeing you, Seryozha, my boy. All I wanted was to let the peasants find out how far it is to the sun and see them gape in wonder. It’s a rare sight, my boy, to see them gape in wonder … I pity the poor devils, really. One thing, though, not a word to anybody in the drawing-room that I’ve spoken to the peasants. I deliberately took them behind the stables to be out of sight. It couldn’t be done out in front, my boy: a very tricky business; and they came along peacefully enough. I did it for their own good …’