A Desperate Character and Other Stories eBook

XII

I made another attempt to get into conversation with the brigadier; but he was evidently tired:  he sank, sighing and groaning, on the little couch, and moaning, ‘Oy, oy, my poor bones, my poor bones,’ untied his garters.  I remember I wondered at the time how a man came to be wearing garters.  I did not realise that in former days every one wore them.  The brigadier began yawning with prolonged, unconcealed yawns, not taking his drowsy eyes off me all the time; so very little children yawn.  The poor old man did not even seem quite to understand my question....  And he had taken Prague!  He, sword in hand, in the smoke and the dust—­at the head of Suvorov’s soldiers, the bullet-pierced flag waving above him, the hideous corpses under his feet....  He ... he!  Wasn’t it wonderful!  But yet I could not help fancying that there had been events more extraordinary in the brigadier’s life.  Cucumber brought white kvas in an iron jug; the brigadier drank greedily—­his hands shook.  Cucumber supported the bottom of the jug.  The old man carefully wiped his toothless mouth with both hands—­and again staring at me, fell to chewing and munching his lips.  I saw how it was, bowed, and went out of the room.

‘Now he’ll have a nap,’ observed Cucumber, coming out behind me.  ’He’s terribly knocked up to-day—­he went to the grave early this morning.’

‘To whose grave?’

’To Agrafena Ivanovna’s, to pay his devotions....  She is buried in our parish cemetery here; it’ll be four miles from here.  Vassily Fomitch visits it every week without fail.  Indeed, it was he who buried her and put the fence up at his own expense.’

‘Has she been dead long?’

‘Well, let’s think—­twenty years about.’

‘Was she a friend of his, or what?’

’Her whole life, you may say, she passed with him ... really.  I myself, I must own, never knew the lady, but they do say ... what there was between them ... well, well, well!  Sir,’ the deacon added hurriedly, seeing I had turned away, ’wouldn’t you like to give me something for another drop, for it’s time I was home in my hut and rolled up in my blanket?’

I thought it useless to question Cucumber further, so gave him a few coppers, and set off homewards.

XIII

At home I betook myself for further information to Narkiz.  He, as I might have anticipated, was somewhat unapproachable, stood a little on his dignity, expressed his surprise that such paltry matters could ‘interest’ me, and, finally, told me what he knew.  I heard the following details.