The Spy

"Yes."

"The pig!"

The spy pulled his ear, and disappeared.

"Why did he speak in a whisper?" Yevsey wondered.

The light in the lamp flickered and went out. The spy uttered an oath, then began to strike matches, which flared up, frightening the darkness, and went out. Finally a pale ray from the room reached Yevsey's bed. It quivered timidly, and seemed to seek something in the narrow ante-room. Dorimedont entered again. One of his eyes was closed from the swelling, the other, light and restless, quickly looked about the walls, and halted at Yevsey's face.

"Didn't Rayisa say anything to you?"

"No."

"Such a stupid woman!"

Yevsey felt awkward to be lying down in the presence of the spy, and he raised himself.

"Stay where you are! Stay where you are!" said Dorimedont hastily, and sat down on the bed at Yevsey's feet.

"If you were a year older," he began in an unusually kind, quiet, and thoughtful tone, "I would get you into the Department of Safety as a political agent. It's a very good position. The salary is not large, but if you are successful, you get rewarded. And it's a free life. You can go wherever you want, have a good time, yes, indeed. Rayisa is a beautiful woman, isn't she?"

"Yes, beautiful," agreed Yevsey.

"Yes, ahem," said the spy, with a sigh and a strange smile. He kept stroking the bandage on his head with his left hand, and pinching his ear. "Woman you can never have enough of – the mother of temptation and sin. – Where did she go? What do you think?"

"I don't know," answered Yevsey quietly, beginning to be afraid of something.

"Of course. She has no paramour. No men came to her. Do you know what, Yevsey? Don't be in a hurry with women. You have time enough for that. They cost dear, brother. Here am I, who have made thousands and thousands of rubles, and what's become of them?"

Heavy, cumbersome, bound with rags, he shook before Yevsey's eyes, and seemed ready to fall to pieces. His dull voice sounded uneasy. His left hand constantly felt of his head and his breast.

"Ah, I got mixed up with them a great deal!" he said peering suspiciously around the dark corners of the room. "It's troublesome, but you can't get along without them. Nothing better in the world. Some say cards are better, but card-players can't get along without women either. Nor does hunting make you proof against women. Nothing does."

In the morning Klimkov saw the spy sleeping on the sofa with his clothes on. The room was filled with smoke and the smell of kerosene from the lamp, which had not been extinguished. Dorimedont was snoring, his large mouth wide open, his sound hand dangling over the floor. He was repulsive and pitiful.

It grew light, and a pale square piece of sky peeped into the little window. The flies awoke, and buzzed plaintively, darting about on the grey background of the window. Besides the smell of kerosene the room was penetrated with some other odor, thick and irritating.

After putting out the lamp Yevsey for some reason washed himself in a great hurry, dressed, and started for the office.

CHAPTER XI

At about noon Zarubin called out to Yevsey.

"Hey there, Klimkov, you know Rayisa Petrovna Fialkovskaya, she's your master Lukin's mistress, isn't she?"

"Yes."

"There now!"

"What's the matter?" asked Yevsey hastily.

"She cut her throat."

Yevsey rose to his feet, stung in the back by a sharp blow of terror.

"She was just found in a store-room. Let's go and look."

Zarubin ran off, announcing to the clerks on his way:

"I told you she was Dorimedont Lukin's mistress."

He shouted the word "mistress" with particular emphasis and zest.

Yevsey looked after him with wide-open eyes. Before him in the air hung Rayisa's head, her heavy luxuriant hair flowed from it in streams, her face was pale green, her lips were tightly compressed, and instead of eyes there were deep dark stains. Everything round about him was hidden behind the dead face, which Yevsey, numb with terror and pity, was unable to remove from his vision.

"Why don't you go to lunch?" asked the Smokestack.

Scarcely anybody remained in the office. Yevsey sighed and answered:

"My mistress cut her throat."

"Oh, yes. Well, go to the café."

The Smokestack walked off carefully picking his steps. Yevsey jumped up and seized his hand:

"Take me."

"Come."

"No, take me to stay with you altogether," Yevsey besought him.

The Smokestack bent toward him.

"What do you mean by 'altogether?'"

"To your rooms – to live with you – for all the time."

"Aha! Well, in the meantime let's get our lunch. Come on."

In the café a canary bird kept up a piercing song. The old man silently ate fried potatoes. Yevsey was unable to eat, and looked into his companion's face inquiringly.

"So you want to live with me? Well, come on."

When Yevsey heard these words, he instantly felt that they partitioned him off from the terrible life. Encouraged he said gratefully:

"I will clean your shoes for you."

The Smokestack thrust his long foot shod in a torn boot from under the table.