Part 26 (1/2)

”Be good enough to state your price.”

The two Tartars looked over the old-fas.h.i.+oned articles, criticised them, none too well, and fixed the most ridiculous prices. The general burst out laughing and tried to be witty. Katerina grew angrier and angrier, until at last she could no longer contain herself:

”Kirill Lvovich,” she shouted, ”you are impossible!” ”Very well,”

came the infuriated reply; ”I am not one of the heirs, I can go!”

They calmed him, however, and then began bargaining with the Tartars, who slung the old-fas.h.i.+oned articles carelessly over their arms-- laces worked by serfs, antique, hand made candle-sticks, a field- gla.s.s and an acetylene lamp.

The twilight spread gently over the town, and through its dusky, star-spangled veil, loomed the old Cathedral--reminiscent of Stenka Razin; now and then came the chime of its deep-toned bells.

The Tartars at length succeeding in striking a bargain, rolled the goods up into neat little packs with their customary prompt.i.tude, paid out Kerensky notes from their bulging purses and left.

Then the heirs divided the proceeds. They were sitting in the drawing-room. Blinds covered the low windows; some portraits hung on the walls, a chandelier was shrouded in a muslin wrapper that had not been changed for years. A yellow oaken piano was covered with dust, and the furniture's velvet covering was tarnished and threadbare. The house struck cold.

The heirs were dressed fantastically; the general in a dressing-gown with gold embroideries and ta.s.sels; Sergius wore a black hooded coat; Lina a warm hare-skin jacket, and Katerina, the eldest--the moustached guardian--a man's thick overcoat, a petticoat and felt shoes. On all were jewels--rings, ear-rings, bracelets and necklaces.

Sergius remarked ungallantly:

”This is a trying time for us all, and I propose that we divide the proceeds among us according to the number of consumers.”

”I am not one of the heirs,” the general hastily interposed.

”I don't share your socialistic views.” Constantine informed Sergius with a cold smile; ”I think they should be divided according to the number of heirs.”

A heated argument followed, above which rang the Cathedral bells. At last, with great difficulty, they came to an agreement. Then Katerina brought in the samovar. All fetched their own bread and sweet roots and drank the tea, thankful not to have to prepare it for themselves.

Suddenly--with unexpected sadness and, therefore, unusually well--the general began to speak:

”When I--a lieutenant-bridegroom--met our Aunt Kseniya for the first time, she was wearing that bustle that you sold just now. Ah, will things ever be the same again? If I were told the Bolshevik tyranny would endure for another year, I should shoot myself! For, good Lord, what I suffer! How my heart is wrung! And I am an old man.... Life is simply not worth living.”

All burst into tears; the general wept as old men weep, the moustached Katerina cried in a sobbing ba.s.s. Neither could Anna Andreevna, nor the two girls who stood clasping each other in the corner, refrain from shedding tears, the girls for their youth and the sparkling joys of their maidenhood of which they had been deprived.

”I would shoot them all if I could!” Katerina declared.

Then Sergius' children, Kira and Lira, came in and Lina told them they might take some alb.u.men. Kira put b.u.t.ter on his.

The moon rose.... The stars shone brilliantly. The snow was dead- white. The river Volga was deserted. It was dark and still by the old Cathedral. The frost was hard and crisp, crackling underfoot. The two young girls, Kseniya and Lena, with Sergius and the general, were returning to the mansion to fetch their handsleighs and toboggan down the slope to the river.

Constantine had gone into town, to a club of cocaine-eaters, to drug himself, utter vulgar plat.i.tudes, and kiss the hands of loose women.

Leontyevna, the Cyclop maid from the Exchange, lay down on a bench in the kitchen to rest from the day's work, said her prayers, and fell into a sound sleep.

The general stood on the door-steps. Sergius drew up the sleighs, and they took their seats--three abreast--Kseniya, Elena and himself, and whirled along over the crackling snow, down to the ice-covered Volga.

The sleighs flew wildly down the slope, and in this impetuous flight, in the sprinkling and crackling snow, and bitter, numbing frost, Kseniya dreamed of a wondrous bliss: she felt a desire to embrace the world! Life suddenly seemed so joyous.

The frost was harsh, cruel and penetrating. On regaining the house the general bristled up like a sparrow--he was frozen--and called out from the door-step:

”Sergius! There is a frost to-day that will certainly burst the water-pipes. We will have to place a guard for the night.”