"Tell me," he asked her, "what do you need? How, in your opinion, is it proper to live? What do you want? You have studied, read, tell me what is it that you need?"The questions fell on Lubov's head quite unexpectedly to her, and she was embarrassed. She was pleased that her father asked her about this matter, and was at the same time afraid to reply, lest she should be lowered in his estimation. And then, gathering courage, as though preparing to jump across the table, she said irresolutely and in a trembling voice:
"That all the people should be happy and contented; that all the people should be equal, all the people have an equal right to life, to the bliss of life, all must have freedom, even as they have air. And equality ineverything!"At the beginning of her agitated speech her father looked at her face with anxious curiosity in his eyes, but as she went on hastily hurling her words at him his eyes assumed an altogether different expression, and finally he said to her with calm contempt:
"I knew it before--you are a gilded fool!"
She lowered her head, but immediately raised it and exclaimed sadly:
"You have said so yourself--freedom."
"You had better hold your tongue!" the old man shouted at her rudely. "You cannot see even that which is visibly forced outside of each man. How can all the people be happy and equal, since each one wants to be above the other? Even the beggar has his pride and always boasts of something or other before other people. A small child, even he wants to be first among his playmates. And one man will never yield to another; only fools believe in it. Each man has his own soul, and his own face; only those who love not their souls and care not for their faces can be planed down to the same size. Eh, you! You've read much trash, and you've devoured it!"Bitter reproach and biting contempt were expressed on the old man's face. He noisily pushed his chair away from the table, jumped up, and folding his hands behind his back, began to dart about in the room with short steps, shaking his head and saying something to himself in an angry, hissing whisper. Lubov, pale with emotion and anger, feeling herself stupid and powerless before him, listening to his whisper, and her heart palpitated wildly.
"I am left alone, alone, like Job. 0h Lord! What shall I do? Oh, alone! Am I not wise? Am I not clever? But life has outwitted me also. What does it love? Whom does it fondle? It beats the good, and suffers not the bad to go unpunished, and no one understands life's justice."The girl began to feel painfully sorry for the old man; she was seized with an intense yearning to help him; she longed to be of use to him.
Following him with burning eyes, she suddenly said in a low voice:
"Papa, dear! do not grieve. Taras is still alive. Perhaps he--"Mayakin stopped suddenly as though nailed to the spot, and he slowly lifted his head.
"The tree that grew crooked in its youth and could not hold out will certainly break when it's old. But nevertheless, even Taras is a straw to me now. Though I doubt whether he is better than Foma. Gordyeeff has a character, he has his father's daring. He can take a great deal on himself. But Taraska, you recalled him just in time. Yes!"And the old man, who a moment ago had lost his courage to the point of complaining, and, grief-stricken had run about the room like a mouse in a trap, now calmly and firmly walked up with a careworn face to the table, carefully adjusted his chair, and seated himself, saying:
"We'll have to sound Taraska. He lives in Usolye at some factory.
I was told by some merchants--they're making soda there, Ibelieve. I'll find out the particulars. I'll write to him.""Allow me to write to him, papa!" begged Lubov, softly, flushing, trembling with joy.
"You?" asked Mayakin, casting a brief glance at her; he then became silent, thought awhile and said:
"That's all right. That's even better! Write to him. Ask him whether he isn't married, how he lives, what he thinks. But then I'll tell you what to write when the time has come.""Do it at once, papa," said the girl.
"It is necessary to marry you off the sooner. I am keeping an eye on a certain red-haired fellow. He doesn't seem to be stupid.
He's been polished abroad, by the way.
"Is it Smolin, papa?" asked Lubov, inquisitively and anxiously.
"And supposing it is he, what of it?" inquired Yakov Tarasovich in a business-like tone.
"Nothing, I don't know him," replied Lubov, indefinitely.
"We'll make you acquainted. It's time, Lubov, it's time. Our hopes for Foma are poor, although I do not give him up.""I did not reckon on Foma--what is he to me?""That's wrong. If you had been cleverer perhaps he wouldn't have gone astray! Whenever I used to see you together, I thought: 'My girl will attract the fellow to herself! That will be a fine affair!' But I was wrong. I thought that you would know what is to your advantage without being told of it. That's the way, my girl!" said the father, instructively.
She became thoughtful as she listened to his impressive speech.
