the man who was afraid-第64节

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〃How　do　you　do；　papa？〃

〃How　are　you；　Taras　Yakovlich；　how　are　you？〃　said　the　old　man；　bowing；　smiling　distractedly；　and　still　clinging　to　the　door　posts。

Foma　stepped　aside　in　confusion；　seated　himself　in　an　armchair；　and；　petrified　with　curiosity；　wide…eyed；　began　to　watch　the　meeting　of　father　and　son。

The　father；　standing　in　the　doorway；　swayed　his　feeble　body；　leaning　his　hands　against　the　door　posts；　and；　with　his　head　bent　on　one　side　and　eyes　half　shut；　stared　at　his　son　in　silence。　The　son　stood　about　three　steps　away　from　him；　his　head　already　gray；　was　lifted　high；　he　knitted　his　brow　and　gazed　at　his　father　with　large　dark　eyes。　His　small；　black；　pointed　beard　and　his　small　moustache　quivered　on　his　meagre　face；　with　its　gristly　nose；　like　that　of　his　father。　And　the　hat；　also；　quivered　in　his　hand。　From　behind　his　shoulder　Foma　saw　the　pale；　frightened　and　joyous　face　of　Lubashe　looked　at　her　father　with　beseeching　eyes　and　it　seemed　she　was　on　the　point　of　crying　out。　For　a　few　moments　all　were　silent　and　motionless；　crushed　as　they　were　by　the　immensity　of　their　emotions。　The　silence　was　broken　by　the　low；　but　dull　and　quivering　voice　of　Yakov　Tarasovich：

〃You　have　grown　old；　Taras。〃

The　son　laughed　in　his　father's　face　silently；　and；　with　a　swift　glance；　surveyed　him　from　head　to　foot。

The　father　tearing　his　hands　from　the　door　posts；　made　a　step　toward　his　son　and　suddenly　stopped　short　with　a　frown。　Then　Taras　Mayakin；　with　one　huge　step；　came　up　to　his　father　and　gave　him　his　hand。

〃Well；　let　us　kiss　each　other；〃　suggested　the　father；　softly。

The　two　old　men　convulsively　clasped　each　other　in　their　arms；　exchanged　warm　kisses　and　then　stepped　apart。　The　wrinkles　of　the　older　man　quivered；　the　lean　face　of　the　younger　was　immobile；　almost　stern。　The　kisses　had　changed　nothing　in　the　external　side　of　this　scene；　only　Lubov　burst　into　a　sob　of　joy；　and　Foma　awkwardly　moved　about　in　his　seat；　feeling　as　though　his　breath　were　failing　him。

〃Eh；　children；　you　are　wounds　to　the　heartyou　are　not　its　joy；〃　complained　Yakov　Tarasovich　in　a　ringing　voice；　and　he　evidently　invested　a　great　deal　in　these　words；　for　immediately　after　he　had　pronounced　them　he　became　radiant；　more　courageous；　and　he　said　briskly；　addressing　himself　to　his　daughter：

〃Well；　have　you　melted　with　joy？　You　had　better　go　and　prepare　something　for　ustea　and　so　forth。　We'll　entertain　the　prodigal　son。　You　must　have　forgotten；　my　little　old　man；　what　sort　of　a　man　your　father　is？〃

Taras　Mayakin　scrutinized　his　parent　with　a　meditative　look　of　his　large　eyes　and　he　smiled；　speechless；　clad　in　black；　wherefore　the　gray　hair　on　his　head　and　in　his　beard　told　more　strikingly。

〃Well；　be　seated。　Tell　mehow　have　you　lived；　what　have　you　done？　What　are　you　looking　at？　Ah！　That's　my　godson。　Ignat　Gordyeeff's　son；　Foma。　Do　you　remember　Ignat？〃

〃I　remember　everything；〃　said　Taras。

〃Oh！　That's　good；　if　you　are　not　bragging。　Well；　are　you　married？〃

〃I　am　a　widower。〃

〃Have　you　any　children？〃

〃They　died。　I　had　two。〃

〃That's　a　pity。　I　would　have　had　grandchildren。〃

〃May　I　smoke？〃　asked　Taras。

〃Go　ahead。　Just　look　at　him；　you're　smoking　cigars。〃

〃Don't　you　like　them？〃

〃I？　Come　on；　it's　all　the　same　to　me。　I　say　that　it　looks　rather　aristocratic　to　smoke　cigars。〃

〃And　why　should　we　consider　ourselves　lower　than　the　aristocrats？〃　said　Taras；　laughing。

〃Do；　I　consider　ourselves　lower？〃　exclaimed　the　old　man。　〃I　merely　said　it　because　it　looked　ridiculous　to　me；　such　a　sedate　old　fellow；　with　beard　trimmed　in　foreign　fashion；　cigar　in　his　mouth。　Who　is　he？　My　sonhe…he…he！〃　the　old　man　tapped　Taras　on　the　shoulder　and　sprang　away　from　him；　as　though　frightened　lest　he　were　rejoicing　too　soon；　lest　that　might　not　be　the　proper　way　to　treat　that　half　gray　man。　And　he　looked　searchingly　and　suspiciously　into　his　son's　large　eyes；　which　were　surrounded　by　yellowish　swellings。

Taras　smiled　in　his　father's　face　an　affable　and　warm　smile；　and　said　to　him　thoughtfully：

〃That's　the　way　I　remember　youcheerful　and　lively。　It　looks　as　though　you　had　not　changed　a　bit　during　all　these　years。〃

The　old　man　straightened　himself　proudly；　and；　striking　his　breast　with　his　fist；　said：

〃I　shall　never　change；　because　life　has　no　power　over　him　who　knows　his　own　value。　Isn't　that　so？〃

〃Oh！　How　proud　you　are！〃

〃I　must　have　taken　after　my　son；〃　said　the　old　man　with　a　cunning　grimace。　〃Do　you　know；　dear；　my　son　was　silent　for　seventeen　years　out　of　pride。〃

〃That's　because　his　father　would　not　listen　to　him；〃　Taras　reminded　him。

〃It's　all　right　now。　Never　mind　the　past。　Only　God　knows　which　of　us　is　to　blame。　He；　the　upright　one；　He'll　tell　it　to　youwait！　I　shall　keep　silence。　This　is　not　the　time　for　us　to　discuss　that　matter。　You　better　tell　me　what　have　you　been　doing　all　these　years？　How　did　you　come　to　that　soda　factory？　How　have　you　made　your　way？〃

〃That's　a　long　story；〃　said　Taras　with　a　sigh；　and　emitting　from　his　mouth　a　great　puff　of　smoke；　he　began　slowly：　〃When　I　acquired　the　possibility　to　live　at　liberty；　I　entered　the　office　of　the　superintendent　of　the　gold　mines　of　the　Remezovs。〃

〃I　know；　they're　very　rich。　Three　brothers。　I　know　them　all。　One　is　a　cripple；　the　other　a　fool；　and　the　third　a　miser。　Go　on！〃

〃I　served　under　him　for　two　years。　And　then　I　married　his　daughter；〃　narrated　Mayakin　in　a　hoarse　voice。

〃The　superintendent's？　That　wasn't　foolish　at　all。〃　Taras　became　thoughtful　and　was　silent　awhile。　The　old　man　looked　at　his　sad　face　and　understood　his　son。

〃And　so　you　lived　with　your　wife　happily；〃　he　said。　〃Well；　what　can　you　do？　To　the　dead　belongs　paradise；　and　the　living　must　live　on。　You　are　not　so　very　old　as　yet。　Have　you　been　a　widower　long？〃

〃This　is　the　third　year。〃

〃So？　And　how　did　you　chance　upon　the　soda　factory？〃

〃That　belongs　to　my　father…in…law。〃

〃Aha！　What　is　your　salary？〃

〃About　five　thousand。〃

〃Mm。　That's　not　a　stale　crust。　Yes；　that's　a　galley　slave　for　you！〃

Taras　glanced　at　his　father　with　a　firm　look　and　asked　him　drily：

〃By　the　way；　what　makes　you　think　that　I　was　a　convict？〃

The　old　man　glanced　at　his　son　with　astonishment；　which　was　quickly　changed　into　joy：

〃Ah！　What　then？　You　were　not？　The　devil　take　them！　Thenhow　was　it？　Don't　take　offence！　How　could　I　know？　They　said　you　were　in　Siberia！　Well；　and　there　are　the　galleys！〃

〃To　make　an　end　of　this　once　for　all；〃　said　Taras；　seriously　and　impressively；　clapping　his　hand　on　his　knee；　〃I'll　tell　you　right　now　how　it　all　happened。　I　was　banished　to　Siberia　to　settle　there　for　six　years；　and；　during　all　the　time　of　my　exile；　I　lived　in　the　mining　region　of　the　Lena。　In　Moscow　I　was　imprisoned　for　about　nine　months。　That's　all！〃

〃So…o！　But　what　does　it　mean？〃　muttered　Yakov　Tarasovich；　with　confusion　and　joy。

〃And　here　they　circulated　that　absurd　rumour。〃

〃That's　rightit　is　absurd　indeed！〃　said　the　old　man；　distressed。

〃And　it　did　a　pretty　great　deal　of　harm　on　a　certain　occasion。〃

〃Really？　Is　that　possible？〃

〃Yes。　I　was　about　to　go　into　business　for　myself；　and　my　credit　was　ruined　on　account　of〃

〃Pshaw！〃　said　Yakov　Tarasovich；　as　he　spat　angrily。　〃Oh；　devil！　Come；　come；　is　that　possible？〃

Foma　sat　all　this　time　in　his　corner；　listening　to　the　conversation　between　the　Mayakins；　and；　blinking　perplexedly；　he　fixedly　examined　the　newcomer。　Recalling　Lubov's　bearing　toward　her　brother；　and　influenced；　to　a　certain　degree；　by　her　stories　about　Taras；　he　expected　to　see　in　him　something　unusual；　something　unlike　the　ordinary　people。　He　had　thought　that　Taras　would　speak　in　some　peculiar　way；　would　dress　in　a　manner　peculiar　to　himself；　and　in　general　he　would　be　unlike　other　people。　While　before　him　sat　a　sedate；　stout　man；　faultlessly　dressed；　with　stern　eyes；　very　much　like　his　father　in　face；　and　the　only　difference　between　them　was　that　the　son　had　a　cigar　in　his　mouth　and　a　black　beard。　He　spoke　briefly　in　a　business…like　way　of　everyday　thingswhere　was；　then；　that　peculiar　something　about　him？　Now　he　began　to　tell　his　father　of　the　profits　in　the　manufacture　of　soda。　He　had　not　been　a　galley　slaveLubov　had　lied！　And　Foma　was　very　much　pleased　when　he　pictured　to　himself　how　he　would　speak　to　Lubov　about　her　brother。

Now　and　then　she　appeared　in　the　doorway　during　the　conversation　between　her　father　and　her　brother。　Her　face　was　radiant　with　happiness；　and　her　eyes　beamed　with　joy　as　she　looked　at　the　black　figure　of　Taras；　clad　in　such　a　peculiarly　thick　frock　coat；　with　pockets　on　the　sides　and　with　big　buttons。　She　walked　on　tiptoe；　and　somehow　always　stretched　her　neck　toward　her　brother。　Foma　looked　at　her　questioningly；　but　she　did　not　notice　him；　constantly　running　back　and　forth　past　the　door；　with　plates　and　bottles　in　her　hands。

It　so　happened　that　she　glanced　into　the　room　just　when　her　brother　was　telling　her　father　about　the　galleys。　She　stopped　as　though　petrified；　holding　a　tray　in　her　outstretched　hands　and　listened　to　everything　her　brother　said　about　the　punishment　inflicted　upon　him。　She　listened；　and　slowly　walked　away；　without　catching　Foma's　astonished　and　sarcastic　glance。　Absorbed　in　his　reflections　on　Taras；　slight