The Enchanted Wanderer and Other Stories

“Take that,” I say, “and your bravery I trample underfoot.”

But though he wasn’t much for strength, he was a courageous little officer: he saw he couldn’t get his saber from me, so he unbuckled it and instantly rushed at me with his little fists … Naturally, that way he got himself nothing but bodily injury from me, but I liked it that he had such a proud and noble character. I didn’t take his money, and he also wasn’t about to pick it up.

Once we stopped fighting, I shouted:

“Pick up the money, Your Serenity, to cover your traveling expenses!”

And what do you think: he didn’t pick it up, but ran straight to the baby and grabbed her; but, naturally, he takes the baby by one arm, and I immediately grab her by the other and say:

“Well, let’s pull: we’ll see who tears off the bigger half.”

He shouts:

“Scoundrel, scoundrel, monster!”—and with that he spits in my face and lets go of the child, and now only draws that little lady away, and she’s in despair and howls pathetically, and drawn away by force, she follows him, but her eyes and arms reach out to me and the baby … and I see and feel how she’s torn in two alive, half to him, half to the baby … And that same minute I suddenly see my master, whose service I was in, come running from town with a pistol in his hand, and he fires the pistol and shouts:

“Hold them, Ivan! Hold them!”

“Well, now,” I think to myself, “should I go holding them for you? Let them love each other!”—and I caught up with the little lady and the uhlan, gave them the baby, and said:

“Take the little scamp with you! Only now you’ll have to take me, too,” I say, “or else he’ll hand me over to justice for having an illegal passport.”

She says:

“Come along, Ivan dearest, come along, you can live with us.”

So we galloped off, and took the little girl, my charge, with us, and that gentleman was left with the goat, the money, and my passport.

I sat on the box of the tarantass and rode all the way to Penza with these new masters of mine, thinking: was it a good thing I did, beating an officer? He’s taken an oath, and in war he defends the fatherland with his saber, and maybe the sovereign himself addresses him formally, according to his rank, and I, fool that I am, offended him so! … And then, having thought that over, I began thinking about something else: what is fate going to allot me now? And there was a fair in Penza then, and the uhlan says to me:

“Listen, Ivan, I think you know that I can’t keep you with me.”

I say:

“Why’s that?”

“Because,” he replies, “I’m in the service, and you haven’t got any sort of passport.”

“No, I had a passport,” I say, “only it was a false one.”

“Well, you see,” he replies, “and now you don’t even have that. Here, take these two hundred roubles for the road, and go with God wherever you like.”

I confess I was terribly unwilling to leave them, because I loved that baby; but there was nothing to be done.

“Well, good-bye,” I say. “I humbly thank you for your reward—only there’s just one thing.”

“What’s that?” he asks.

“It’s that I’m guilty before you,” I reply, “for fighting with you and being rude.”

He laughed and said:

“Well, what of it, God be with you, you’re a good fellow.”

“No, sir,” I reply, “never mind my being good, it can’t be left like this, because it may weigh on my conscience: you’re a defender of the fatherland, and maybe the sovereign himself addresses you formally.”

“That’s true,” he replies. “When we’re given our rank, it’s written in the document: ‘We grant unto you and order that you be honored and respected.’ ”

“Well, please, then,” I say, “I can’t stand it any longer …”

“But what can we do about it now?” he says. “You’re stronger than I am, and you gave me a beating—that can’t be taken back.”

“To take it back is impossible,” I say, “but at least to ease my conscience, think what you like, but kindly hit me a few times”—and I puffed up both cheeks before him.

“But what for?” he says. “What should I beat you for?”

“Just like that,” I reply, “for my conscience, so that I don’t go unpunished for insulting my sovereign’s officer.”

He laughed, and again I puffed up my cheeks as full as I could and again stood there.

He asks:

“Why this puffing yourself up, what are you making faces for?”

And I say:

“I’m preparing myself soldier-like, according to the rules,” I say. “Kindly hit me on both sides”—and again I puffed up my cheeks; but instead of hitting me, he suddenly tore from his place and started kissing me, and he says:

“Enough, Ivan, enough, for Christ’s sake: I wouldn’t hit you even once, not for anything in the world, only go away quickly, while Mashenka and her daughter aren’t home, otherwise they’ll weep very much over you.”

“Ah, now that’s another matter. Why upset them?”

And, though I didn’t want to go, there was nothing to be done: so I left quickly, without saying good-bye, went out the gate, and stood, and thought: