the man who was afraid-第56节

按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页，按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页，按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部！
————未阅读完？加入书签已便下次继续阅读！


　him　a　cage；　and　it　is　too　narrow　for　him　with　his　splendid　health　and　predilection　for　licentiousness。　Hampered　by　culture　he　at　once　starts　to　lead　a　dissolute　life。　The　debauch　of　a　merchant　is　always　the　revolt　of　a　captive　beast。　Of　course　this　is　bad。　But；　ah！　it　will　be　worse　yet；　when　this　beast；　in　addition　to　his　strength；　shall　have　gathered　some　sense　and　shall　have　disciplined　it。　Believe　me；　even　then　he　will　not　cease　to　create　scandals；　but　they　will　be　historical　events。　Heaven　deliver　us　from　such　events！　For　they　will　emanate　from　the　merchant's　thirst　for　power；　their　aim　will　be　the　omnipotence　of　one　class；　and　the　merchant　will　not　be　particular　about　the　means　toward　the　attainment　of　this　aim。

〃Well；　what　do　you　say；　is　it　true？〃　asked　Yozhov；　when　he　had　finished　reading　the　newspaper；　and　thrown　it　aside。

〃I　don't　understand　the　end；〃　replied　Foma。　〃And　as　to　strength；　that　is　true！　Where　am　I　to　make　use　of　my　strength　since　there　is　no　demand　for　it！　I　ought　to　fight　with　robbers；　or　turn　a　robber　myself。　In　general　I　ought　to　do　something　big。　And　that　should　be　done　not　with　the　head；　but　with　the　arms　and　the　breast。　While　here　we　have　to　go　to　the　Exchange　and　try　to　aim　well　to　make　a　rouble。　What　do　we　need　it　for？　And　what　is　it；　anyway？　Has　life　been　arranged　in　this　form　forever？　What　sort　of　life　is　it；　if　everyone　is　grieved　and　finds　it　too　narrow　for　him？　Life　ought　to　be　according　to　the　taste　of　man。　If　it　is　narrow　for　me；　I　must　move　it　asunder　that　I　may　have　more　room。　I　must　break　it　and　reconstruct　it。　But　nod？　That's　where　the　trouble　lies！　What　ought　to　be　done　that　life　may　be　freer？　That　I　do　not　understand；　and　that's　all　there　is　to　it。〃

〃Yes！〃　drawled　out　Yozhov。　〃So　that's　where　you've　gone！　That；　dear；　is　a　good　thing！　Ah；　you　ought　to　study　a　little！　How　are　you　about　books？　Do　you　read　any？〃

〃No；　I　don't　care　for　them。　I　haven't　read　any。〃

〃That's　just　why　you　don't　care　for　them。〃〃I　am　even　afraid　to　read　them。　I　know　onea　certain　girlit's　worse　than　drinking　with　her！　And　what　sense　is　there　in　books？　One　man　imagines　something　and　prints　it；　and　others　read　it。　If　it　is　interesting；　it's　all　right。　But　learn　from　a　book　how　to　live！　that　is　something　absurd。　It　was　written　by　man；　not　by　God；　and　what　laws　and　examples　can　man　establish　for　himself？〃

〃And　how　about　the　Gospels？　Were　they　not　written　by　men？〃

〃Those　were　apostles。　Now　there　are　none。〃

〃Good；　your　refutation　is　sound！　It　is　true；　dear；　there　are　no　apostles。　Only　the　Judases　remained；　and　miserable　ones　at　that。〃

Foma　felt　very　well；　for　he　saw　that　Yozhov　was　attentively　listening　to　his　words　and　seemed　to　be　weighing　each　and　every　word　he　uttered。　Meeting　such　bearing　toward　him　for　the　first　time　in　his　life；　Foma　unburdened　himself　boldly　and　freely　before　his　friend；　caring　nothing　for　the　choice　of　words；　and　feeling　that　he　would　be　understood　because　Yozhov　wanted　to　understand　him。

〃You　are　a　curious　fellow！〃　said　Yozhov；　about　two　days　after　their　meeting。　〃And　though　you　speak　with　difficulty；　one　feels　that　there　is　a　great　deal　in　yougreat　daring　of　heart！　If　you　only　knew　a　little　about　the　order　of　life！　Then　you　would　speak　loud　enough；　I　think。　Yes！〃

〃But　you　cannot　wash　yourself　clean　with　words；　nor　can　you　then　free　yourself；〃　remarked　Foma；　with　a　sigh。　〃You　have　said　something　about　people　who　pretend　that　they　know　everything；　and　can　do　everything。　I　also　know　such　people。　My　godfather；　for　instance。　It　would　be　a　good　thing　to　set　out　against　them；　to　convict　them；　they're　a　pretty　dangerous　set！〃

〃I　cannot　imagine；　Foma；　how　you　will　get　along　in　life　if　you　preserve　within　you　that　which　you　now　have；〃　said　Yozhov；　thoughtfully。

〃It's　very　hard。　I　lack　steadfastness。　Of　a　sudden　I　could　perhaps　do　something。　I　understand　very　well　that　life　is　difficult　and　narrow　for　every　one　of　us。　I　know　that　my　godfather　sees　that；　too！　But　he　profits　by　this　narrowness。　He　feels　well　in　it；　he　is　sharp　as　a　needle；　and　he'll　make　his　way　wherever　he　pleases。　But　I　am　a　big；　heavy　man；　that's　why　I　am　suffocating！　That's　why　I　live　in　fetters。　I　could　free　myself　from　everything　with　a　single　effort：　just　to　move　my　body　with　all　my　strength；　and　then　all　the　fetters　will　burst！〃

〃And　what　then？〃　asked　Yozhov。

〃Then？〃　Foma　became　pensive；　and；　after　a　moment's　thought；　waved　his　hand。　〃I　don't　know　what　will　be　then。　I　shall　see！〃

〃We　shall　see！〃　assented　Yozhov。

He　was　given　to　drink；　this　little　man　who　was　scalded　by　life。　His　day　began　thus：　in　the　morning　at　his　tea　he　looked　over　the　local　newspapers　and　drew　from　the　news　notices　material　for　his　feuilleton；　which　he　wrote　right　then　and　there　on　the　corner　of　the　table。　Then　he　ran　to　the　editorial　office；　where　he　made　up　〃Provincial　Pictures〃　out　of　clippings　from　country　newspapers。　On　Friday　he　had　to　write　his　Sunday　feuilleton。　For　all　they　paid　him　a　hundred　and　twenty…five　roubles　a　month；　he　worked　fast；　and　devoted　all　his　leisure　time　to　the　〃survey　and　study　of　charitable　institutions。〃　Together　with　Foma　he　strolled　about　the　clubs；　hotels　and　taverns　till　late　at　night；　drawing　material　everywhere　for　his　articles；　which　he　called　〃brushes　for　the　cleansing　of　the　conscience　of　society。〃　The　censor　he　styled　as　superintendent　of　the　diffusion　of　truth　and　righteousness　in　life；〃　the　newspaper　he　called　〃the　go…between；　engaged　in　introducing　the　reader　to　dangerous　ideas；〃　and　his　own　work；　〃the　sale　of　a　soul　in　retail；〃　and　〃an　inclination　to　audacity　against　holy　institutions。〃

Foma　could　hardly　make　out　when　Yozhov　jested　and　when　he　was　in　earnest。　He　spoke　of　everything　enthusiastically　and　passionately；　he　condemned　everything　harshly；　and　Foma　liked　it。　But　often；　beginning　to　argue　enthusiastically；　he　refuted　and　contradicted　himself　with　equal　enthusiasm　or　wound　up　his　speech　with　some　ridiculous　turn。　Then　it　appeared　to　Foma　that　that　man　loved　nothing；　that　nothing　was　firmly　rooted　within　him；　that　nothing　guided　him。　Only　when　speaking　of　himself　he　talked　in　a　rather　peculiar　voice；　and　the　more　impassioned　he　was　in　speaking　of　himself；　the　more　merciless　and　enraged　was　he　in　reviling　everything　and　everybody。　And　his　relation　toward　Foma　was　dual；　sometimes　he　gave　him　courage　and　spoke　to　him　hotly；　quivering　in　every　limb。

〃Go　ahead！　Refute　and　overthrow　everything　you　can！　Push　forward　with　all　your　might。　There　is　nothing　more　valuable　than　man；　know　this！　Cry　at　the　top　of　your　voice：　'Freedom！　Freedom！〃

But　when　Foma；　warmed　up　by　the　glowing　sparks　of　these　words；　began　to　dream　of　how　he　should　start　to　refute　and　overthrow　people　who；　for　the　sake　of　personal　profit；　do　not　want　to　broaden　life；　Yozhov　would　often　cut　him　short：

〃Drop　it！　You　cannot　do　anything！　People　like　you　are　not　needed。　Your　time；　the　time　of　the　strong　but　not　clever；　is　past；　my　dear！　You　are　too　late！　There　is　no　place　for　you　in　life。〃

〃No？　You　are　lying！〃　cried　Foma；　irritated　by　contradiction。

〃Well；　what　can　you　accomplish？〃

〃I？〃

〃You！〃

〃Why；　I　can　kill　you！〃　said　Foma；　angrily；　clenching　his　fist。

〃Eh；　you　scarecrow！〃　said　Yozhov；　convincingly　and　pitifully；　with　a　shrug　of　the　shoulder。　〃Is　there　anything　in　that？　Why；　I　am　anyway　half　dead　already　from　my　wounds。〃

And　suddenly　inflamed　with　melancholy　malice；　he　stretched　himself　and　said：

〃My　fate　has　wronged　me。　Why　have　I　lowered　myself；　accepting　the　sops　of　the　public？　Why　have　I　worked　like　a　machine　for　twelve　years　in　succession　in　order　to　study？　Why　have　I　swallowed　for　twelve　long　years　in　the　Gymnasium　and　the　University　the　dry　and　tedious　trash　and　the　contradictory　nonsense　which　is　absolutely　useless　to　me？　In　order　to　become　feuilleton…writer；　to　play　the　clown　from　day　to　day；　entertaining　the　public　and　convincing　myself　that　that　is　necessary　and　useful　to　them。　Where　is　the　powder　of　my　youth？　I　have　fired　off　all　the　charge　of　my　soul　at　three　copecks　a　shot。　What　faith　have　I　acquired　for　myself？　Only　faith　in　the　fact　that　everything　in　this　life　is　worthless；　that　everything　must　be　broken；　destroyed。　What　do　I　love？　Myself。　And　I　feel　that　the　object　of　my　love　does　not　deserve　my　love。　What　can　I　accomplish？〃

He　almost　wept；　and　kept　on　scratching　his　breast　and　his　neck　with　his　thin；　feeble　hands。

But　sometimes　he　was　seized　with　a　flow　of　courage；　and　then　he　spoke　in　a　different　spirit：

〃I？　Oh；　no；　my　song　is　not　yet　sung　to　the　end！　My　breast　has　imbibed　something；　and　I'll　hiss　like　a　whip！　Wait；　I'll　drop　the　newspaper；　I'll　start　to　do　serious　work；　and　write　one　small　book；　which　I　will　entitle　'The　Passing　of　the　Soul'；　there　is　a　prayer　by　that　name；　it　is　read　for　the　dying。　And　before　its　death　this　society；　cursed　by　the　anathema　of　inward　impotence；　will　receive　my　book　like　incense。〃

Listening　to　each　and　every　word　of　his；　watching　him　and　comparing　his　remarks；　Foma　saw　that　Yozhov　was　just　as　weak　as　he　was；　that　he；　too；　had　lost　his　way。　But　Yozhov's　mood　still　infected　Foma；　his　speeches　enriched　Foma's　vocabulary；　and　sometimes　he　noticed　with　joyous　delight　how　cleverly　and　forcibly　he　had　himself　expressed　this