The Man Who Was Afraid Part 34

"I am getting used to it," replied Foma.

"You are rich, and when Yakov dies, you will be richer still. He'll leave everything to you."

"I don't need it."

"To whom else should he leave it? He has but one daughter, and you ought to marry that daughter, and that she is your G.o.dsister and foster-sister--no matter! That can be arranged--and then you would be married. What good is there in the life you are now leading? I suppose you are forever running about with the girls?"

"No."

"You don't say! Eh, eh, eh! the merchant is pa.s.sing away. A certain forester told me--I don't know whether he lied or not--that in former days the dogs were wolves, and then degenerated into dogs. It is the same with our calling; we will soon also be dogs. We will take up science, put stylish hats on our heads, we'll do everything that is necessary in order to lose our features, and there will be nothing by which to distinguish us from other people. It has become a custom to make Gymnasium students of all children. The merchants, the n.o.bles, the commoners--all are adjusted to match the same colour. They dress them in gray and teach them all the same subjects. They grow man even as they grow a tree. Why do they do it? No one knows. Even a log could be told from another by its knot at least, while here they want to plane the people over so that all of them should look alike. The coffin is already waiting for us old people. Ye-es! It may be that about fifty years hence, no one will believe that I lived in this world. I, Anany, the son of Savva, by the surname of Shchurov. So! And that I, Anany, feared no one, save G.o.d. And that in my youth I was a peasant, that all the land I possessed then was two desyatins and a quarter; while toward my old age I have h.o.a.rded up eleven thousand desyatins, all forests, and perhaps two millions in cash."

"There, they always speak of money!" said Foma, with dissatisfaction.

"What joy does man derive from money?" "Mm," bellowed Shchurov. "You will make a poor merchant, if you do not understand the power of money."

"Who does understand it?" asked Foma.

"I!" said Shchurov, with confidence. "And every clever man. Yashka understands it. Money? That is a great deal, my lad! Just spread it out before you and think, 'What does it contain?' Then will you know that all this is human strength, human mind. Thousands of people have put their life into your money and thousands more will do it. And you can throw it all into the fire and see how the money is burning, and at that moment you will consider yourself master."

"But n.o.body does this."

"Because fools have no money. Money is invested in business. Business gives bread to the ma.s.ses. And you are master over all those ma.s.ses.

Wherefore did G.o.d create man? That man should pray to Him. He was alone and He felt lonesome, so He began to desire power, and as man was created in the image of the Lord, man also desires power. And what, save money, can give power? That's the way. Well, and you--have you brought me money?"

"No," answered Foma. From the words of the old man Foma's head was heavy and troubled, and he was glad that the conversation had, at last, turned to business matters.

"That isn't right," said Shchurov, sternly knitting his brow. "It is overdue--you must pay.

"You'll get a half of it tomorrow."

"Why a half? Why not all?"

"We are badly in need of money now."

"And haven't you any? But I also need it."

"Wait a little."

"Eh, my lad, I will not wait! You are not your father. Youngsters like you, milksops, are an unreliable lot. In a month you may break up the whole business. And I would be the loser for it. You give me all the money tomorrow, or I'll protest the notes. It wouldn't take me long to do it!"

Foma looked at Shchurov, with astonishment. It was not at all that same old man, who but a moment ago spoke so sagaciously about the devil. Then his face and his eyes seemed different, and now he looked fierce, his lips smiled pitilessly, and the veins on his cheeks, near his nostrils, were eagerly trembling. Foma saw that if he did not pay him at once, Shchurov would indeed not spare him and would dishonour the firm by protesting the notes.

"Evidently business is poor?" grinned Shchurov. "Well, tell the truth--where have you squandered your father's money?"

Foma wanted to test the old man:

"Business is none too brisk," said he, with a frown. "We have no contracts. We have received no earnest money, and so it is rather hard."

"So-o! Shall I help you out?"

"Be so kind. Postpone the day of payment," begged Foma, modestly lowering his eyes.

"Mm. Shall I a.s.sist you out of my friends.h.i.+p for your father? Well, be it so, I'll do it."

"And for how long will you postpone it?" inquired Foma.

"For six months."

"I thank you humbly."

"Don't mention it. You owe me eleven thousand six hundred roubles. Now listen: rewrite the notes for the amount of fifteen thousand, pay me the interest on this sum in advance. And as security I'll take a mortgage on your two barges."

Foma rose from the chair and said, with a smile:

"Send me the notes tomorrow. I'll pay you in full."

Shchurov also rose from his chair and, without lowering his eyes at Foma's sarcastic look, said, calmly scratching his chest:

"That's all right."

"Thank you for your kindness."

"That's nothing! You don't give me a chance, or I would have shown you my kindness!" said the old man lazily, showing his teeth.

"Yes! If one should fall into your hands--"

"He'd find it warm--"

"I am sure you'd make it warm for him."

"Well, my lad, that will do!" said Shchurov, sternly. "Though you consider yourself quite clever, it is rather too soon. You've gained nothing, and already you began to boast! But you just win from me--then you may shout for joy. Goodbye. Have all the money for tomorrow."

"Don't let that trouble you. Goodbye!"

"G.o.d be with you!"

When Foma came out of the room he heard that the old man gave a slow, loud yawn, and then began to hum in a rather hoa.r.s.e ba.s.s:

"Open for us the doors of mercy. Oh blessed Virgin Mary!"

Foma carried away with him from the old man a double feeling. Shchurov pleased him and at the same time was repulsive to him.

He recalled the old man's words about sin, thought of the power of his faith in the mercy of the Lord, and the old man aroused in Foma a feeling akin to respect.

"He, too, speaks of life; he knows his sins; but does not weep over them, does not complain of them. He has sinned--and he is willing to stand the consequences. Yes. And she?" He recalled Medinskaya, and his heart contracted with pain.

"And she is repenting. It is hard to tell whether she does it purposely, in order to hide from justice, or whether her heart is really aching.

'Who, but the Lord,' says he, 'is to judge me?' That's how it is."

It seemed to Foma that he envied Anany, and the youth hastened to recall Shchurov's attempts to swindle him. This called forth in him an aversion for the old man He could not reconcile his feelings and, perplexed, he smiled.