That's why you are not competent to do anything, and you are unhappy because of this incompetence. Taraska. Yes. He must be about forty now. He is lost to me! A galley-slave--is that my son? A blunt-snouted young pig. He would not speak to his father, and--he stumbled.""What did he do?" asked Lubov, eagerly listening to the old man's words.
"Who knows? It may be that now he cannot understand himself, if he became sensible, and he must have become a sensible man; he's the son of a father who's not stupid, and then he must have suffered not a little. They coddle them, the nihilists! They should have turned them over to me. I'd show them what to do.
Into the desert! Into the isolated places--march! Come, now, my wise fellows, arrange life there according to your own will! Go ahead! And as authorities over them I'd station the robust peasants. Well, now, honourable gentlemen, you were given to eat and to drink, you were given an education--what have you learned?
Pay your debts, pray. Yes, I would not spend a broken grosh on them. I would squeeze all the price out of them--give it up! You must not set a man at naught. It is not enough to imprison him!
You transgressed the law, and are a gentleman? Never mind, you must work. Out of a single seed comes an ear of corn, and a man ought not be permitted to perish without being of use! An economical carpenter finds a place for each and every chip of wood--just so must every man be profitably used up, and used up entire, to the very last vein. All sorts of trash have a place in life, and man is never trash. Eh! it is bad when power lives without reason, nor is it good when reason lives without power.
Take Foma now. Who is coming there--give a look."Turning around, Lubov noticed the captain of the "Yermak," Yefim, coming along the garden path. He had respectfully removed his cap and bowed to her. There was a hopelessly guilty expression on his face and he seemed abashed. Yakov Tarasovich recognized him and, instantly grown alarmed, he cried:
"Where are you coming from? What has happened?""I--I have come to you!" said Yefim, stopping short at the table, with a low bow.
"Well, I see, you've come to me. What's the matter? Where's the steamer?""The steamer is there!" Yefim thrust his hand somewhere into the air and heavily shifted from one foot to the other.
"Where is it, devil? Speak coherently--what has happened?" cried the old man, enraged.
"So--a misfortune, Yakov."
"Have you been wrecked?"
"No, God saved us."
"Burned up? Well, speak more quickly."
Yefim drew air into his chest and said slowly:
"Barge No. 9 was sunk--smashed up. One man's back was broken, and one is altogether missing, so that he must have drowned. About five more were injured, but not so very badly, though some were disabled.""So-o!" drawled out Mayakin, measuring the captain with an ill-omened look.
"Well, Yefimushka, I'll strip your skin off"
"It wasn't I who did it!" said Yefim, quickly.
"Not you?" cried the old man, shaking with rage. "Who then?""The master himself."
"Foma? And you. Where were you?"
"I was lying in the hatchway."
"Ah! You were lying."
"I was bound there."
"Wha-at?" screamed the old man in a shrill voice.
"Allow me to tell you everything as it happened. He was drunk and he shouted: "'Get away! I'll take command myself!' I said 'Ican't! I am the captain.' 'Bind him!' said he. And when they had bound me, they lowered me into the hatchway, with the sailors.
And as the master was drunk, he wanted to have some fun. A fleet of boats was coming toward us. Six empty barges towed by 'Cheruigorez.' So Foma Ignatyich blocked their way. They whistled. More than once. I must tell the truth--they whistled!""Well?"
"Well, and they couldn't manage it--the two barges in front crashed into us. And as they struck the side of our ninth, we were smashed to pieces. And the two barges were also smashed. But we fared much worse."Mayakin rose from the chair and burst into jarring, angry laughter. And Yefim sighed, and, outstretching his hands, said:xxx"He has a very violent character. When he is sober he is silent most of the time, and walks around thoughtfully, but when he wets his springs with wine--then he breaks loose. Then he is not master of himself and of his business--but their wild enemy--you must excuse me! And I want to leave, Yakov Tarasovich! I am not used to being without a master, I cannot live without a master!""Keep quiet!" said Mayakin, sternly. "Where's Foma?""There; at the same place. Immediately after the accident, he came to himself and at once sent for workmen. They'll lift the barge. They may have started by this time.""Is he there alone?" asked Mayakin, lowering his head.
"Not quite," replied Yefim, softly, glancing stealthily at Lubov.
"Really?"
"There's a lady with him. A dark one."
"So."
"It looks as though the woman is out of her wits," said Yefim, with a sigh. "She's forever singing. She sings very well. It's very captivating.""I am not asking you about her!" cried Mayakin, angrily. The wrinkles of his face were painfully quivering, and it seemed to Lubov that her father was about to weep.
"Calm yourself, papa!" she entreated caressingly. "Maybe the loss isn't so great.""Not great?" cried Yakov Tarasovich in a ringing voice. "What do you understand, you fool? Is it only that the barge was smashed?
Eh, you! A man is lost! That's what it is! And he is essential to me! I need him, dull devils that you are!" The old man shook his head angrily and with brisk steps walked off along the garden path leading toward the house.
And Foma was at this time about four hundred versts away from his godfather, in a village hut, on the shore of the Volga. He had just awakened from sleep, and lying on the floor, on a bed of fresh hay, in the middle of the hut, he gazed gloomily out of the window at the sky, which was covered with gray, scattered clouds.
