Poor Folk: Chapter 31

Chapter 31

August 5th.

MY DARLING LITTLE BARBARA,--This is well, this is well, my angel!
So you are of opinion that the fact that I have failed to obtain
any money does not matter? Then I too am reassured, I too am
happy on your account. Also, I am delighted to think that you are
not going to desert your old friend, but intend to remain in your
present lodgings. Indeed, my heart was overcharged with joy when
I read in your letter those kindly words about myself, as well as
a not wholly unmerited recognition of my sentiments. I say this
not out of pride, but because now I know how much you love me to
be thus solicitous for my feelings. How good to think that I may
speak to you of them! You bid me, darling, not be faint-hearted.
Indeed, there is no need for me to be so. Think, for instance, of
the pair of shoes which I shall be wearing to the office
tomorrow! The fact is that over-brooding proves the undoing of a
man--his complete undoing. What has saved me is the fact that it
is not for myself that I am grieving, that I am suffering, but
for YOU. Nor would it matter to me in the least that I should
have to walk through the bitter cold without an overcoat or
boots--I could bear it, I could well endure it, for I am a simple
man in my requirements; but the point is--what would people say,
what would every envious and hostile tongue exclaim, when I was
seen without an overcoat? It is for OTHER folk that one wears an
overcoat and boots. In any case, therefore, I should have needed
boots to maintain my name and reputation; to both of which my
ragged footgear would otherwise have spelled ruin. Yes, it is so,
my beloved, and you may believe an old man who has had many years
of experience, and knows both the world and mankind, rather than
a set of scribblers and daubers.

But I have not yet told you in detail how things have gone with
me today. During the morning I suffered as much agony of spirit
as might have been experienced in a year. 'Twas like this: First
of all, I went out to call upon the gentleman of whom I have
spoken. I started very early, before going to the office. Rain
and sleet were falling, and I hugged myself in my greatcoat as I
walked along. "Lord," thought I, "pardon my offences, and send me
fulfilment of all my desires;" and as I passed a church I crossed
myself, repented of my sins, and reminded myself that I was
unworthy to hold communication with the Lord God. Then I retired
into myself, and tried to look at nothing; and so, walking
without noticing the streets, I proceeded on my way. Everything
had an empty air, and everyone whom I met looked careworn and
preoccupied, and no wonder, for who would choose to walk abroad
at such an early hour, and in such weather? Next a band of ragged
workmen met me, and jostled me boorishly as they passed; upon
which nervousness overtook me, and I felt uneasy, and tried hard
not to think of the money that was my errand. Near the
Voskresenski Bridge my feet began to ache with weariness, until I
could hardly pull myself along; until presently I met with
Ermolaev, a writer in our office, who, stepping aside, halted,
and followed me with his eyes, as though to beg of me a glass of
vodka. "Ah, friend," thought I, "go YOU to your vodka, but what
have I to do with such stuff?" Then, sadly weary, I halted for a
moment's rest, and thereafter dragged myself further on my way.
Purposely I kept looking about me for something upon which to
fasten my thoughts, with which to distract, to encourage myself;
but there was nothing. Not a single idea could I connect with any
given object, while, in addition, my appearance was so draggled
that I felt utterly ashamed of it. At length I perceived from
afar a gabled house that was built of yellow wood. This, I
thought, must be the residence of the Monsieur Markov whom Emelia
Ivanovitch had mentioned to me as ready to lend money on
interest. Half unconscious of what I was doing, I asked a
watchman if he could tell me to whom the house belonged;
whereupon grudgingly, and as though he were vexed at something,
the fellow muttered that it belonged to one Markov. Are ALL
watchmen so unfeeling? Why did this one reply as he did? In any
case I felt disagreeably impressed, for like always answers to
like, and, no matter what position one is in, things invariably
appear to correspond to it. Three times did I pass the house and
walk the length of the street; until the further I walked, the
worse became my state of mind. "No, never, never will he lend me
anything!" I thought to myself, "He does not know me, and my
affairs will seem to him ridiculous, and I shall cut a sorry
figure. However, let fate decide for me. Only, let Heaven send
that I do not afterwards repent me, and eat out my heart with
remorse!" Softly I opened the wicket-gate. Horrors! A great
ragged brute of a watch-dog came flying out at me, and foaming at
the mouth, and nearly jumping out his skin! Curious is it to note
what little, trivial incidents will nearly make a man crazy, and
strike terror to his heart, and annihilate the firm purpose with
which he has armed himself. At all events, I approached the house
more dead than alive, and walked straight into another
catastrophe. That is to say, not noticing the slipperiness of the
threshold, I stumbled against an old woman who was filling milk-
jugs from a pail, and sent the milk flying in every direction!
The foolish old dame gave a start and a cry, and then demanded of
me whither I had been coming, and what it was I wanted; after
which she rated me soundly for my awkwardness. Always have I
found something of the kind befall me when engaged on errands of
this nature. It seems to be my destiny invariably to run into
something. Upon that, the noise and the commotion brought out the
mistress of the house--an old beldame of mean appearance. I
addressed myself directly to her: "Does Monsieur Markov live
here?" was my inquiry. "No," she replied, and then stood looking
at me civilly enough. "But what want you with him?" she
continued; upon which I told her about Emelia Ivanovitch and the
rest of the business. As soon as I had finished, she called her
daughter--a barefooted girl in her teens-- and told her to summon
her father from upstairs. Meanwhile, I was shown into a room
which contained several portraits of generals on the walls and
was furnished with a sofa, a large table, and a few pots of
mignonette and balsam. "Shall I, or shall I not (come weal, come
woe) take myself off?" was my thought as I waited there. Ah, how
I longed to run away! "Yes," I continued, "I had better come
again tomorrow, for the weather may then be better, and I shall
not have upset the milk, and these generals will not be looking
at me so fiercely." In fact, I had actually begun to move towards
the door when Monsieur Markov entered--a grey-headed man with
thievish eyes, and clad in a dirty dressing-gown fastened with a
belt. Greetings over, I stumbled out something about Emelia
Ivanovitch and forty roubles, and then came to a dead halt, for
his eyes told me that my errand had been futile. "No." said he,
"I have no money. Moreover, what security could you offer?" I
admitted that I could offer none, but again added something about
Emelia, as well as about my pressing needs. Markov heard me out,
and then repeated that he had no money. " Ah," thought I, "I
might have known this--I might have foreseen it!" And, to tell
the truth, Barbara, I could have wished that the earth had opened
under my feet, so chilled did I feel as he said what he did, so
numbed did my legs grow as shivers began to run down my back.
Thus I remained gazing at him while he returned my gaze with a
look which said, "Well now, my friend? Why do you not go since
you have no further business to do here?" Somehow I felt
conscience-stricken. "How is it that you are in such need of
money?" was what he appeared to be asking; whereupon ,I opened my
mouth (anything rather than stand there to no purpose at all!)
but found that he was not even listening. "I have no money,"
again he said, "or I would lend you some with pleasure." Several
times I repeated that I myself possessed a little, and that I
would repay any loan from him punctually, most punctually, and
that he might charge me what interest he liked, since I would
meet it without fail. Yes, at that moment I remembered our
misfortunes, our necessities, and I remembered your half-rouble.
"No," said he, "I can lend you nothing without security," and
clinched his assurance with an oath, the robber!

How I contrived to leave the house and, passing through
Viborskaia Street, to reach the Voskresenski Bridge I do not
know. I only remember that I feltterribly weary, cold, and
starved, and that it was ten o'clock before I reached the office.
Arriving, I tried to clean myself up a little, but Sniegirev, the
porter, said that it was impossible for me to do so, and that I
should only spoil the brush, which belonged to the Government.
Thus, my darling, do such fellows rate me lower than the mat on
which they wipe their boots! What is it that will most surely
break me? It is not the want of money, but the LITTLE worries of
life--these whisperings and nods and jeers. Anyday his Excellency
himself may round upon me. Ah, dearest, my golden days are gone.
Today I have spent in reading your letters through; and the
reading of them has made me sad. Goodbye, my own, and may the
Lord watch over you!

M. DIEVUSHKIN.

P.S.--To conceal my sorrow I would have written this letter half
jestingly; but, the faculty of jesting has not been given me. My
one desire, however, is to afford you pleasure. Soon I will come
and see you, dearest. Without fail I will come and see you.

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