Yama (The Pit) by Aleksandr Ivanovich Kuprin
PART TWO
CHAPTER XVII
But if the Georgian and the kind-souled Soloviev served as a
palliating beginning against the sharp thorns of great worldly
wisdom, in the curious education of the mind and soul of Liubka;
and if Liubka forgave the pedantism of Lichonin for the sake of a
first sincere and limitless love for him, and forgave just as
willingly as she would have forgiven curses, beatings, or a heavy
crime—the lessons of Simanovsky, on the other hand, were a
downright torture and a constant, prolonged burden for her. For it
must be said that he, as though in spite, was far more accurate
and exact in his lessons than any pedagogue working out his weekly
stipulated tutorings.
With the incontrovertibility of his opinions, the assurance of his
tone and the didacticism of his presentation he took away the will
of poor Liubka and paralyzed her soul; in the same way that he
sometimes, during university gatherings or at mass meetings,
influenced the timid and bashful minds of newcomers. He was an
orator at meetings; he was a prominent member in the organization
of students' mess halls; he took part in the recording,
lithographing and publication of lectures; he was chosen the head
of the course; and, finally, took a very great interest in the
students' treasury. He was of that number of people who, after
they leave the student auditoriums, become the leaders of parties,
the unrestrained arbiters of pure and self-denying conscience;
serve out their political stage somewhere in Chukhlon, directing
the keen attention of all Russia to their heroically woeful
situation; and after that, beautifully leaning on their past, make
a career for themselves, thanks to a solid advocacy, a deputation,
or else a marriage joined with a goodly piece of black loam land
and provincial activity. Unnoticeably to themselves and altogether
unnoticeably, of course, to the casual glance, they cautiously
right themselves; or, more correctly, fade until they grow a belly
unto themselves, and acquire podagra and diseases of the liver.
Then they grumble at the whole world; say that they were not
understood, that their time was the time of sacred ideals. While
in the family they are despots and not infrequently give money out
at usury.
The path of the education of Liubka's mind and soul was plain to
him, as was plain and incontrovertible everything that he
conceived; he wanted at the start to interest Liubka in chemistry
and physics.
"The virginally feminine mind," he pondered, "will be astounded,
then I shall gain possession of her attention, and from trifles,
from hocus-pocus, I shall pass on to that which will lead her to
the centre of universal knowledge, where there is no superstition,
no prejudices; where there is only a broad field for the testing
of nature."
It must be said that he was inconsistent in his lessons. He
dragged in all that came to his hand for the astonishment of
Liubka. Once he brought along for her a large self-made serpent—a
long cardboard hose, filled with gunpowder, bent in the form of a
harmonica, and tied tightly across with a cord. He lit it, and the
serpent for a long time with crackling jumped over the dining room
and the bedroom, filling the place with smoke and stench. Liubka
was scarcely amazed and said that this was simply fireworks, that
she had already seen this, and that you couldn't astonish her with
that. She asked, however, permission to open the window. Then he
brought a large phial, tinfoil, rosin and a cat's tail, and in
this manner contrived a Leyden jar. The discharge, although weak,
was produced, however.
"Oh, the unclean one take you, Satan!" Liubka began to cry out,
having felt the dry fillip in her little finger.
Then, out of heated peroxide of manganese, mixed with sand, with
the help of a druggist's vial, the gutta-percha end of a syringe,
a basin filled with water, and a jam jar—oxygen was derived. The
red-hot cork, coal and phosphorus burnt in the jar so blindingly
that it pained the eyes. Liubka clapped her palms and squealed out
in delight:
"Mister Professor, more! Please, more, more! ..."
But when, having united the oxygen with the hydrogen brought in an
empty champagne bottle, and having wrapped up the bottle for
precaution in a towel, Simanovsky ordered Liubka to direct its
neck toward a burning candle, and when the explosion broke out, as
though four cannons had been fired off at once—an explosion
through which the plastering fell down from the ceiling—then
Liubka grew timorous, and, only getting to rights with difficulty,
pronounced with trembling lips, but with dignity: "You must excuse
me now, but since I have a flat of my own, and I'm not at all a
wench any longer, but a decent woman, I'd ask you therefore not to
misbehave in my place. I thought you, like a smart and educated
man, would do everything nice and genteel, but you busy yourself
with silly things. They can even put one in jail for that."
Subsequently, much, much later, she told how she had a student
friend, who made dynamite before her.
It must have been, after all, that Simanovsky, this enigmatic man,
so influential in his youthful society, where he had to deal with
theory for the most part, and so incoherent when a practical
experiment with a living soul had come into his hands—was just
simply stupid, but could skillfully conceal this sole sincere
quality of his.
Having suffered failure in applied sciences, he at once passed on
to metaphysics. Once he very self-assuredly, and in a tone such
that after it no refutation was possible, announced to Liubka that
there is no God, and that he would undertake to prove this during
five minutes. Whereupon Liubka jumped up from her place, and told
him firmly that she, even though a quondam prostitute, still
believed in God and would not allow Him to be offended in her
presence; and if he would continue such nonsense, then she would
complain to Vassil Vassilich.
"I will also tell him," she added in a weeping voice, "that you,
instead of teaching me, only rattle off all kinds of stuff and all
that sort of nastiness, while you yourself hold your hand on my
knees. And that's even not at all genteel." And for the first time
during all their acquaintanceship she, who had formerly been so
timorous and constrained, sharply moved away from her teacher.
However, having suffered a few failures, Simanovsky still
obstinately continued to act upon the mind and imagination of
Liubka. He tried to explain to her the theory of the origin of
species, beginning with an amoeba and ending with Napoleon. Liubka
listened to him attentively, and during this there was an
imploring expression in her eyes: "When will you stop at last?"
She yawned into a handkerchief and then guiltily explained:
"Excuse me, that's from my nerves." Marx also had no success
goods, supplementary value, the manufacturer and the worker, which
had become algebraic formulas, were for Liubka merely empty
sounds, vibrating the air; and she, very sincere at soul, always
jumped up with joy from her place, when hearing that, apparently,
the vegetable soup had boiled up, or the samovar was getting ready
to boil over.
It cannot be said that Simanovsky did not have success with women.
His aplomb and his weighty, decisive tone always acted upon simple
souls, especially upon fresh, naive, trusting souls. Out of
protracted ties he always got out very easily; either he was
dedicated to a tremendously responsible call, before which
domestic love relations were nothing; or he pretended to be a
superman, to whom all is permitted (O, thou, Nietszche, so long
ago and so disgracefully misconstrued for high-school boys!). The
passive, almost imperceptible, but firmly evasive resistance of
Liubka irritated and excited him. What particularly incensed him
was the fact that she, who had formerly been so accessible to all,
ready to yield her love in one day to several people in
succession, to each one for two roubles, was now all of a sudden
playing at some pure and disinterested inamoration!
"Nonsense," he thought. "This can't be. She's making believe, and,
probably, I don't strike the right tone with her."
And with every day he became more exacting, captious, and stern.
Hardly consciously, more probably through habit, he relied on his
usual influence, intimidating the thought and subduing the will,
which rarely betrayed him.
Once Liubka complained about him to Lichonin:
"He's too strict with me, now, Vassil Vassilievich; and I don't
understand anything he says, and I don't want to take lessons with
him any more."
Somehow or other, Lichonin lamely quieted her down; but still he
had an explanation with Simanovsky. The other answered him with
sang froid:
"Just as you wish, my dear fellow; if my method displeases you or
Liubka, then I'm even ready to resign. My problem consists only of
bringing in a genuine element of discipline into her education. If
she does not understand anything, then I compel her to learn it by
heart, aloud. With time this will cease. That is unavoidable.
Recall, Lichonin, how difficult the transition from arithmetic to
algebra was for us, when we were compelled to replace common
numerals with letters, and did not know why this was done. Or why
did they teach us grammar, instead of simply advising us to write
tales and verses?"
And on the very next day, bending down low under the hanging shade
of the lamp over Liubka's body, and sniffing all over her breast
and under her arm pits, he was saying to her:
"Draw a triangle... Well, yes, this way and this way. On top I
write 'Love.' Write simply the letter L, and below M and W. That
will be: the Love of Man and Woman."
With the air of an oracle, unshakable and austere, he spoke all
sorts of erotic balderdash and almost unexpectedly concluded:
"And so look, Liuba. The desire to love—it's the same as the
desire to eat, to drink, and to breathe the air." He would squeeze
her thigh hard, considerably above the knee; and she again,
becoming confused and not wishing to offend him, would try almost
imperceptibly to move her leg away gradually.
"Tell me, would it be offensive, now, for your sister, mother, or
for your husband, that you by chance had not dined at home, but
had gone into a restaurant or a cook-shop, and had there satisfied
your hunger? And so with love. No more, no less. A physiological
enjoyment. Perhaps more powerful, more keen, than all others, but
that's all. Thus, for example, now: I want you as a woman. While
you ..."
"Oh, drop it, Mister," Liubka cut him short with vexation. "Well,
what are you harping on one and the same thing for all the time?
Change your act. You've been told: no and no. Don't you think I
see what you're trying to get at? But only I'll never agree to
unfaithfulness, seeing as how Vasilli Vasillievich is my
benefactor, and I adore him with all my soul... And you're even
pretty disgusting to me with your nonsense."
Once he caused Liubka a great and scandalous hurt, and all because
of his theoretical first principles. As at the university they
were already for a long time talking about Lichonin's having saved
a girl from such and such a house; and that now he is taken up
with her moral regeneration; that rumour, naturally, also reached
the studying girls, who frequented the student circles. And so,
none other than Simanovsky once brought to Liubka two female
medicos, one historian, and one beginning poetess, who, by the
way, was already writing critical essays as well. He introduced
them in the most serious and fool-like manner.
"Here," he said, stretching out his hand, now in the direction of
the guests, now of Liubka, "here, comrades, get acquainted. You,
Liuba, will find in them real friends, who will help you on your
radiant path; while you—comrades, Liza, Nadya, Sasha and Rachel—
you will regard as elder sisters a being who has just struggled
out of that horrible darkness into which the social structure
places the modern woman."
He spoke not exactly so, perhaps; but in any case, approximately
in that manner. Liubka turned red, extended her hand, with all the
fingers clumsily folded together, to the young ladies in coloured
blouses and in leather belts; regaled them with tea and jam;
promptly helped them with lights for cigarettes; but, despite all
invitations, did not want to sit down for anything. She would say:
"Yes-ss, n-no, as you wish." And when one of the young ladies
dropped a handkerchief on the floor, she hurriedly made a dash to
pick it up.
One of the maidens, red, stout, and with a bass voice, whose face,
all in all, consisted of only a pair of red cheeks, out of which
mirth-provokingly peeped out a hint at an upturned nose, and with
a pair of little black eyes, like tiny raisins, sparkling out of
their depths, was inspecting Liubka from head to feet, as though
through an imaginary lorgnette; directing over her a glance which
said nothing, but was contemptuous. "Why, I haven't been getting
anybody away from her," thought Liubka guiltily. But another was
so tactless, that she—perhaps for the first time for her, but the
hundredth for Liubka—began a conversation about: how had she
happened upon the path of prostitution? This was a bustling young
lady, pale, very pretty, ethereal; all in little light curls, with
the air of a spoiled kitten and even a little pink cat's bow on
her neck.
"But tell me, who was this scoundrel, now ... who was the first to
... well, you understand? ..."
In the mind of Liubka quickly flashed the images of her former
mates, Jennka and Tamara, so proud, so brave and resourceful—oh,
far brainier than these maidens—and she, almost unexpectedly for
herself, suddenly said sharply:
'There was a lot of them. I've already forgotten. Kolka, Mitka,
Volodka, Serejka, Jorjik, Troshka, Petka, and also Kuzka and Guska
with a party. But why are you interested?"
"Why... no... that is, I ask as a person who fully sympathizes
with you."
"But have you a lover?"
"Pardon me, I don't understand what you're saying. People, it's
time we were going."
"That is, what don't you understand? Have you ever slept with a
man?"
"Comrade Simanovsky, I had not presupposed that you would bring us
to such a person. Thank you. It was exceedingly charming of you!"
It was difficult for Liubka to surmount the first step. She was of
those natures which endure long, but tear loose rapidly; and she,
usually so timorous, was unrecognizable at this moment.
"But I know!" she was screaming in wrath. "I know, that you're the
very same as I! But you have a papa, a mamma; you're provided for,
and if you have to, then you'll even commit abortion—many do so.
But if you were in my place, when there's nothing to stuff your
mouth with, and a girlie doesn't understand anything yet, because
she can't read or write; while all around the men are shoving like
he-dogs—then you'd be in a sporting house too. It's a shame to put
on airs before a poor girl—that's what!"
Simanovsky, who had gotten into trouble, said a few general
consolatory words in a judicious bass, such as the noble fathers
used in olden comedies, and led his ladies off.
But he was fated to play one more very shameful, distressing, and
final role in the free life of Liubka. She had already complained
to Lichonin for a long time that the presence of Simanovsky was
oppressive to her; but Lichonin paid no attention to womanish
trifles: the vacuous, fictitious, wordy hypnosis of this man of
commands was strong within him. There are influences, to get rid
of which is difficult, almost impossible. On the other hand, he
was already for a long time feeling the burden of co-habitation
with Liubka. Frequently he thought to himself: "She is spoiling my
life; I am growing common, foolish; I have become dissolved in
fool benevolence; it will end up in my marrying her, entering the
excise or the assay office, or getting in among pedagogues; I'll
be taking bribes, will gossip, and become an abominable provincial
morel. And where are my dreams of the power of thought, the beauty
of life, of love and deeds for all humanity?" he would say, at
times even aloud, and pull his hair. And for that reason, instead
of attentively going into Liubka's complaints, he would lose his
temper, yell, stamp his feet, and the patient, meek Liubka would
grow quiet and retire into the kitchen, to have a good cry there.
Now more and more frequently, after family quarrels, in the
minutes of reconciliation he would say to Liubka:
"My dear Liuba, you and I do not suit each other, comprehend that.
Look: here are a hundred roubles for you, ride home. Your
relatives will receive you as their own. Live there a while, look
around you. I will come for you after half a year; you'll have
become rested, and, of course, all that's filthy, nasty, that has
been grafted upon you by the city, will go away, will die off. And
you'll begin a new life independently, without any assistance,
alone and proud!"
But then, can anything be done with a woman who has come to love
for the first, and, of course, as it seems to her, for the last
time? Can she be convinced of the necessity for parting? Does
logic exist for her?
Always reverent before the firmness of the words and decisions of
Simanovsky, Lichonin, however, surmised and by instinct understood
his real relation to Liubka; and in his desire to free himself, to
shake off a chance load beyond his strength, he would catch
himself in a nasty little thought: "She pleases Simanovsky; and as
for her, isn't it all the same if it's he or I or a third? Guess
I'll make a clean breast of it, explain things to him and yield
Liubka up to him like a comrade. But then, the fool won't go. Will
raise a rumpus."
"Or just to come upon the two of them together, somehow," he would
ponder further, "in some decisive pose... to raise a noise, make a
row... A noble gesture... a little money and... a getaway."
He now frequently, for several days, would not return home; and
afterwards, having come, would undergo torturesome hours of
feminine interrogations, scenes, tears, even hysterical fits.
Liubka would at times watch him in secret, when he went out of the
house; would stop opposite the entrance that he went into, and for
hours would await his return in order to reproach him and to cry
in the street. Not being able to read, she intercepted his letters
and, not daring to turn to the aid of the prince or Soloviev,
would save them up in her little cupboard together with sugar,
tea, lemon and all sorts of other trash. She had even reached the
stage when, in minutes of anger, she threatened him with sulphuric
acid.
"May the devil take her," Lichonin would ponder during the minutes
of his crafty plans. "It's all one, let there even be nothing
between them. But I'll take and make a fearful scene for him. and
her."
And he would declaim to himself:
"Ah, so! ... I have warmed you in my bosom, and what do I see now?
You are paying me with black ingratitude. ... And you, my best
comrade, you have attempted my sole happiness! ... O, no, no,
remain together; I go hence with tears in my eyes. I see, that I
am one too many! I do not wish to oppose your love, etc., etc."
And precisely these dreams, these hidden plans, such momentary,
chance, and, at bottom, vile ones—of those to which people later
do not confess to themselves—were suddenly fulfilled. It was the
turn of Soloviev's lesson. To his great happiness, Liubka had at
last read through almost without faltering: "A good plough has
Mikhey, and a good one has Sisoi as well... a swallow... a swing
... the children love God..." And as a reward for this Soloviev
read aloud to her Of the Merchant Kalashnikov and of Kiribeievich,
Life-guardsman of Czar Ivan the Fourth. Liubka from delight
bounced in her armchair, clapped her hands. The beauty of this
monumental, heroic work had her in its grasp. But she did not have
a chance to express her impressions in full. Soloviev was hurrying
to a business appointment. And immediately, coming to meet
Soloviev, having barely exchanged greetings with him in the
doorway, came Simanovsky. Liubka's face sadly lengthened and her
lips pouted. For this pedantic teacher and coarse male had become
very repugnant to her of late.
This time he began a lecture on the theme that for man there exist
no laws, no rights, no duties, no honour, no vileness; and that
man is a quantity self-sufficient, independent of anyone and
anything.
"It's possible to be a God, possible to be an intestinal worm, a
tape worm—it's all the same."
He already wanted to pass on to the theory of amatory emotions;
but, it is to be regretted, he hurried a trifle from impatience:
he embraced Liubka, drew her to him and began to squeeze her
roughly. "She'll become intoxicated from caressing. She'll give
in!" thought the calculating Simanovsky. He sought to touch her
mouth with his lips for a kiss, but she screamed and snorted spit
at him. All the assumed delicacy had left her.
"Get out, you mangy devil, fool, swine, dirt! I'll smash your
snout for you! ..."
All the lexicon of the establishment had come back to her; but
Simanovsky, having lost his pince-nez, his face distorted, was
looking at her with blurred eyes and jabbering whatever came into
his head:
"My dear ... It's all the same ... a second of enjoyment! ... You
and I will blend in enjoyment! ... No one will find out! ... Be
mine! ..."
It was just at this very minute that Lichonin walked into the
room.
Of course, at soul he did not admit to himself that this minute he
would commit a vileness; but only somehow from the side, at a
distance, reflected that his face was pale, and that his immediate
words would be tragic and of great significance.
"Yes!" he said dully, like an actor in the fourth act of a drama;
and, letting his hands drop impotently, began to shake his chin,
which had fallen upon his breast. "I expected everything, only not
this. You I excuse, Liuba—you are a cave being; but you,
Simanovsky ... I esteemed you ... however, I still esteem you a
decent man. But I know, that passion is at times stronger than the
arguments of reason. Right here are fifty roubles—I am leaving
them for Liuba; you, of course, will return them to me later, I
have no doubt of that. Arrange her destiny ... You are a wise,
kind, honest man, while I am ... ("A skunk!" somebody's distinct
voice flashed through his head.) I am going away, because I will
not be able to bear this torture any more. Be happy."
He snatched out of his pocket and with effect threw his wallet on
the table; then seized his hair and ran out of the room.
Still, this was the best way out for him. And the scene had been
played out precisely as he had dreamt of it.