Orlóff and His Wife: Tales of the Barefoot Brigade. Maksim Gorky

feeling?—" inquired the student. "Tell me, without ceremony … it's a matter of health, and if there's anything out of order, we'll furnish you with some acid medicines, which will remove all trouble at once."

      "We're all right … we're in good health—"Grigóry finally imparted the information, with a laugh.—"But if I don't look just as I should … it's only on the outside … for, to tell the truth, I haven't quite got over my drunk."

      "Exactly so, I discern with my nose that you, my good man, almost got drunk yesterday—just a mere trifle, you know. … "

      He said this so humorously, and made such a grimace, to accompany it, that Orlóff fairly split with loud and confidential laughter. Matréna laughed also, covering her mouth with her apron. The student himself laughed the most loudly and merrily of all, and he also stopped sooner than the rest. And when the folds of skin around his chubby mouth, evoked by the laughter, had smoothed themselves out—his simple, frank face became still more simple, somehow.

      "It's the proper thing for a working man to drink, if he does it moderately, but just at present, it would be better to refrain from liquor altogether. Have you heard how some sickness or other is going about among the people?"

And now, with a serious aspect, he began to explain in intelligible language to the Orlóffs, about the cholera, and about the means of fighting it. As he talked, he walked about the room, now feeling of the wall with his hand, now casting a glance behind the door, into the corner, where hung the wash-basin, and where stood a wash-trough[9] filled with slops, and he even bent down and smelled under the stove, to see what the odor was like. His voice broke, every now and then, from bass notes into tenor notes, and the simple words of his remarks seemed to fix themselves firmly, one after another, in the minds of his hearers, without any effort on their part. His bright eyes sparkled, and he seemed thoroughly permeated with the ardor of his youthful passion for his work, which he executed so simply and so vigorously.

      [9] The peasant wash-basin consists of a dosed vessel which is suspended from the wall, and contains water. The water trickles through a spout or faucet, on the hands—"running" water being regarded as the only clean water. The tub in which clothes are washed is a long trough, rounded at the bottom, and mounted on supports.—Translator.

      Grigóry watched his operations with a smile of curiosity. Matréna sniffed from time to time; the policeman had disappeared.

      "So you are to attend to the lime to-day, Mr. and Mrs. Occupant. There's a building going up alongside you, so the masons will give you all you need for about five kopéks. And as for you, good man, if you can't be moderate in your drinking, you must let it alone altogether. … We-ell, good-by for the time being. … I'll look in on you again."

      And he vanished as swiftly as he had appeared, leaving as mementos of his laughing eyes abashed and satisfied smiles on the countenances of the Orlóff couple.

      They remained silent for a minute, staring at each other, and as yet unable to formulate the impression left by this unexpected invasion of conscious energy into their dark, automatic life.

      "A-aï!—" drawled Grigóry, shaking his head.—"So there's … a chemist! It is said that they are poisoning folks! But would a man with a face like that occupy himself with that sort of thing? And then again, his voice! And all the rest. … No, his manner was perfectly frank, and immediately—'here now—here I am!'—Lime … is that injurious? Citric acid … what's that? Simply acid, and nothing more! But the chief point is—cleanliness everywhere, in the air, and on the floor, and in the slop-bucket. … Is it possible to poison a man by such means? Akh, the devils! Poisoners, say they. … That hard-working young fellow, hey? Fie! A workingman ought always to drink in moderation, he says … do you hear, Mótrya? So come now, pour me out a little glass … there's liquor on hand, isn't there?"

      She very willingly poured him out half a cup of vódka from the bottle, which she produced from some place known only to herself.

      "That was really a nice fellow … he had such a way of making one like him—" she said, smiling at the remembrance of the student.—"But other fellows, the rest of them—who knows anything about them? Perhaps, they actually are engaged. … "

      "But engaged for what, and again, by whom?—" exclaimed Grigóry.

      "To exterminate the people. … They say there are so many poor folks, that an order has been issued—to poison the superfluous ones,"—Matréna communicated her information.

      "Who says that?"

      "Everybody says so. … The painters' cook said so, and a great many other folks. … "

      "Well, they're fools! Would that be profitable? Just consider: they are curing them! How is a body to understand that? They bury them! And isn't that a loss? For a coffin is needed, and a grave, and other things of that sort. … Everything is charged to the government treasury. … Stuff and nonsense! If they wanted to make a clearing-out and to reduce the number of people, they would have taken and sent them off to Siberia—there's plenty of room for them all there! Or to some uninhabited islands. … And after they had exiled them, they would have ordered them to work there. Work and pay your taxes … understand? There's a clearing-out for you, and a very profitable one, to boot. … Because an uninhabited island will yield no revenue, if it isn't settled with people. And revenue is the first thing to the public treasury, so it's not to its interest to destroy folks, and to bury them at its expense. … Understand? And then, again, that student … he's an impudent creature, that's a fact, but he had more to say about the riot; but kill people off, … no-o, you couldn't hire him to do that for any amount of pennies! Couldn't you see at a glance, that he wouldn't be capable of such a thing? His phiz wasn't of that calibre. … "

      All day long they talked about the student, and about everything he had told them. They recalled the sound of his laugh, his face, discovered that one button was missing from his white coat, and came near quarrelling over the question: 'on which side of the breast?' Matréna obstinately maintained that it was on the right side, her husband said—on the left, and twice cursed her stoutly, but remembering in season, that his wife had not turned the bottle bottom upward when she poured the vódka into the cup, he yielded the point to her. Then they decided that on the morrow, they would set to work to introduce cleanliness into their quarters, and again inspired by a breath of something fresh, they resumed their discussion of the student.

      "Yes, what a go-ahead fellow he was, really now!"—said Grigóry rapturously.—"He came in, just exactly as though he'd known us for ten years. … He sniffed about everywhere, explained everything … and that was all! He didn't shout or make a row, although he's one of the authorities, also, of course. … Akh, deuce take him! Do you understand, Matréna, they're looking after us there, my dear. That's evident at once. … They want to keep us sound, and nothing more, nor less. … That's all nonsense about killing us off … old wives' tales. … 'How does your belly act?' says he. … And if they wanted to kill us off, what the devil should he have wanted to know about the action of my belly for? And how cleverly he explained all about those … what's their name? those devils that crawl about in the bowels, you know?"

      "Something after the fashion of cock and bull stories," laughed Matréna—"I believe he only said that for the sake of frightening us, and making folks more particular to keep clean. … "

      "Well, who knows, perhaps there's some truth in that for worms breed from dampness. … Akh, you devil! What did he call those little bugs? It isn't a cock and bull story at all, but … why, I remember what it is! … I've got the word on the tip of my tongue, but I don't understand. … "

      And when they lay down to sleep, they were still talking about the event of the day, with the same ingenuous enthusiasm with which children communicate to one another their first experiences and the impressions which have surprised them. Then they fell asleep, in the midst of their discussion.

      Early in the morning they were awakened.