David’s father still did not come and did not
even send a letter. It had long been summer and
June was drawing to its end. We were wearing
ourselves out in suspense.
Meanwhile there began to be rumours that Latkin had
suddenly become much worse, and that his family were
likely to die of hunger or else the house would fall
in and crush them all under the roof.
David’s face even looked changed and he became
so ill-tempered and surly that there was no going
near him. He began to be more often absent from
home, too. I did not meet Raissa at all.
From time to time, I caught a glimpse of her in the
distance, rapidly crossing the street with her beautiful,
light step, straight as an arrow, with her arms crossed,
with her dark, clever eyes under her long brows, with
an anxious expression on her pale, sweet face—that
was all. My aunt with the help of her Trankvillitatin
pitched into me as before, and as before reproachfully
whispered in my ear: “You are a thief, sir,
a thief!” But I took no notice of her; and my
father was very busy, and occupied with his writing
and driving all over the place and did not want to
hear anything.
One day, passing by the familiar apple-tree, more
from habit than anything I cast a furtive glance in
the direction of the little spot I knew so well, and
it suddenly struck me that there was a change in the
surface of the soil that concealed our treasure ...
as though there were a little protuberance where there
had been a hollow, and the bits of rubbish were disarranged.
“What does that mean?” I wondered.
“Can someone have guessed our secret and dug
up the watch?”
I had to make certain with my own eyes. I felt,
of course, the most complete indifference in regard
to the watch that lay rusting in the bosom of the
earth; but was not prepared to let anyone else make
use of it! And so next day I got up before dawn
again and arming myself with a knife went into the
orchard, sought out the marked spot under the apple-tree,
began digging—and after digging a hole a
yard deep was forced to the conviction that the watch
was gone, that someone had got hold of it, taken it
away, stolen it!
But who could have dug it up except David?
Who else knew where it was?
I filled in the hole and went back to the house.
I felt deeply injured.
“Supposing,” I thought, “that David
needs the watch to save his future wife or her father
from dying of starvation.... Say what you like,
the watch was worth something.... Why did he
not come to me and say: ‘Brother’
(in David’s place I should have certainly begun
by saying brother), ’brother, I need money;
you have none, I know, but let me make use of that
watch which we buried together under the old apple-tree?
It is of no use to anyone and I shall be so grateful
to you, brother!’ With what joy I should have
consented. But to act secretly, treacherously,
not to trust his friend.... No! No passion,
no necessity would justify that!”
