But then, all the girls with whom I have met, and with whom I am living right now--understand, Platonov, understand me!--why, they don't realize anything... Talking, walking pieces of meat! And this is even worse than my malice! ..."

"You are right!" said Platonov quietly. "And this is one of those questions where you'll always run up against a wall. No one will help you..."

"No one, no one! ..." pa.s.sionately exclaimed Jennka. "Do you remember--this was while you were there: a student carried away our Liubka..."

"Why, certainly, I remember well! ... Well, and what then?"

"And this is what, that yesterday she came back tattered, wet...Crying...Left her, the skunk! ... Played a while at kindliness, and then away with her! 'You,' he says, 'are a sister.' 'I,' he says, 'will save you, make a human being of you...'"

"Is that possible?"

"Just so! ... One man I did see, kindly, indulgent, without the designs of a he-dog--that's you. But then, you're altogether different. You're somehow queer. You're always wandering somewhere, seeking something...You forgive me, Sergei Ivanovich, you're some sort of a little innocent! ... And that's just why I've come to you, to you alone! ..."

"Speak on, Jennechka..."

"And so, when I found out that I was sick, I almost went out of my mind from wrath; I choked from wrath ...I thought: and here's the end; therefore, there's no more use in pitying, there's nothing to grieve about, nothing to expect...The lid! ... But for all that I have borne--can it be that there's no paying back for it? Can it be that there's no justice in the world? Can it be that I can't even feast myself with revenge?--for that I have never known love; that of family life I know only by hearsay; that, like a disgustin', nasty little dog, they call me near, pat me and then with a boot over the head--get out!--that they made me over, from a human being, equal to all of them, no more foolish than all those I've met; made me over into a floor mop, some sort of a sewer pipe for their filthy pleasures? ...Ugh! ... Is it possible that for all of this I must take even such a disease with grat.i.tude as well? ... Or am I a slave? ... A dumb object? ... A pack horse? ... And so, Platonov, it was just then that I resolved to infect them all: young, old, poor, rich, handsome, hideous--all, all, all! ..."

Platonov, who had already long since put his plate away from him, was looking at her with astonishment, and even more--almost with horror.

He, who had seen in life much of the painful, the filthy, at times even of the b.l.o.o.d.y--he grew frightened with an animal fright before this intensity of enormous, unvented hatred. Coming to himself, he said:

"One great writer tells of such a case. The Prussians conquered the French and lorded it over them in every possible way: shot the men, violated the women, pillaged the houses, burned down the fields...And so one handsome woman--a Frenchwoman, very handsome,--having become infected, began out of spite to infect all the Germans who happened to fall into her embraces. She made ill whole hundreds, perhaps even thousands...And when she was dying in a hospital, she recalled this with joy and with pride...[25] But then, those were enemies, trampling upon her fatherland and slaughtering her brothers...But you, you, Jennechka! ..."

[25] This story is Lit. No. 29, by Guy de Maupa.s.sant.--Trans.

"But I--all, just all! Tell me, Sergei Ivanovich, only tell me on your conscience: if you were to find in the street a child, whom some one had dishonoured, had abused...well, let's say, had stuck its eyes out, cut its ears off--and then you were to find out that this man is at this minute walking past you, and that only G.o.d alone, if only He exists, is looking at you this minute from heaven--what would you do?"

"Don't know," answered Platonov, dully and downcast; but he paled, and his fingers underneath the table convulsively clenched into fists, "Perhaps I would kill him..."

"Not 'perhaps,' but certainly! I know you, I sense you. Well, and now think: every one of us has been abused so, when we were children! ...

Children! ..." pa.s.sionately moaned out Jennka and covered her eyes for a moment with her palm. "Why, it comes to me, you also spoke of this at one time, in our place--wasn't it on that same evening before the Trinity? ... Yes, children--foolish, trusting, blind, greedy, frivolous...And we cannot tear ourselves out of our harness...where are we to go? what are we to do? ... And please, don't you think it, Sergei Ivanovich--that the spite within me is strong only against those who wronged just me, me personally...No, against all our guests in general; all these cavaliers, from little to big...Well, and so I have resolved to avenge myself and my sisters. Is that good or no? ..."

"Jehnechka, really I don't know...I can't...I dare not say anything...I don't understand."

"But even that's not the main thing...For the main thing is this: I infected them, and did not feel anything--no pity, no remorse, no guilt before G.o.d or my fatherland. Within me was only joy, as in a hungry wolf that has managed to get at blood...But yesterday something happened which even I can't understand. A cadet came to me, altogether a little bit of a lad, silly, with yellow around his mouth...He used to come to me from still last winter...And then suddenly I had pity on him... Not because he was very handsome and very young; and not because he had always been very polite--even tender, if you will...No, both the one and the other had come to me, but I did not spare them: with enjoyment I marked them off, just like cattle, with a red-hot brand ...But this one I suddenly pitied...I myself don't understand--why? I can't make it out. It seemed to me, that it would be all the same as stealing money from a little simpleton, a little idiot; or hitting a blind man, or cutting a sleeper's throat...if he only were some dried-up marasmus or a nasty little brute, or a lecherous old fellow, I would not have stopped. But he was healthy, robust, with chest and arms like a statue's...and I could not... I gave him his money back, showed him my disease; in a word, I acted like a fool among fools. He went away from me...burst into tears...And now since last evening I haven't slept. I walk around as in a fog...Therefore--I'm thinking right now--therefore, that which, I meditated; my dream to infect them all; to infect their fathers, mothers, sisters, brides--even all the world--therefore, all this was folly, an empty fantasy, since I have stopped? ... Once again, I don't understand anything ...Sergei Ivanovich, you are so wise, you have seen so much of life--help me, then, to find myself now!..."

"I don't know, Jennechka!" quietly p.r.o.nounced Platonov. "Not that I fear telling you, or advising you, but I know absolutely nothing. This is above my reason... above conscience..."

Jennie crossed her fingers and nervously cracked them.

"And I, too, don't know...Therefore, that which I thought--is not the truth. Therefore, there is but one thing left me...This thought came into my head this morning..."

"Don't, don't do it, Jennechka! ... Jennie! ..." Platonov quickly interrupted her.

"There's one thing: to hang myself..."

"No, no, Jennie, only not that! ... If there were other circ.u.mstances, unsurmountable, I would, believe me, tell you boldly: well, it's no use, Jennie; it's time to close up shop... But what you need isn't that at all... If you wish, I can suggest one way out to you, no less malicious and merciless; but which, perhaps, will satiate your wrath a hundredfold..."

"What's that?" asked Jennie, wearily, as though suddenly wilted after her flare-up.

"Well, this is it ... You're still young, and I'll tell you the truth, you are very handsome; that is, you can be, if you only want to, unusually stunning ... That's even more than beauty. But you've never yet known the bounds and the power of your appearance; and, mainly, you don't know to what a degree such natures as yours are bewitching, and how mightily they enchain men to them, and make out of them more than slaves and brutes ... You are proud, you are brave, you are independent, you are a clever woman. I know--you have read a great deal, let's presuppose even trashy books, but still you have read, you have an entirely different speech from the others. With a successful turn of life, you can cure yourself, you can get out of these 'Yamkas,'

these 'Little Ditches,' into freedom. You have only to stir a finger, in order to see at your feet hundreds of men; submissive, ready for your sake for vileness, for theft, for embezzlement ... Lord it over them with tight reins, with a cruel whip in your hands! ... Ruin them, make them go out of their minds, as long as your desire and energy hold out! ... Look, my dear Jennie, who manages life now if not women!

Yesterday's chambermaid, laundress, chorus girl goes through estates worth millions, the way a country-woman of Tver cracks sunflower seeds.

A woman scarcely able to sign her name, at times affects the destiny of an entire kingdom through a man. Hereditary princes marry the street-walkers, the kept mistresses of yesterday... Jennechka, there is the scope for your unbridled vengeance; while I will admire you from a distance... For you--you are made of this stuff--you are a bird of prey, a spoliator... Perhaps not with such a broad sweep--but you will cast them down under your feet."

"No," faintly smiled Jennka. "I thought of this before ... But something of the utmost importance has burned out within me. There are no forces within me, there is no will within me, no desires ... I am somehow all empty inside, rotted ... Well, now, you know, there's a mushroom like that--white, round,--you squeeze it, and snuff pours out of it. And the same way with me. This life has eaten out everything within me save malice. And I am flabby, and my malice is flabby ...

I'll see some little boy again, will have pity on him, will be punishing myself again ... No, it's better ... better so! ..."

She became silent. And Platonov did not know what to say. It became oppressive and awkward for both. Finally, Jennka got up, and, without looking at Platonov, extended her cold, feeble hand to him.

"Good-bye, Sergei Ivanovich! Excuse me, that I took up your time ...

Oh, well, I can see myself that you'd help me, if you only could ...

But, evidently, there's nothing to be done here ... Good-bye!"

"Only don't do anything foolish, Jennechka! I implore you! ..."

"Oh, that's all right!" said she and made a tired gesture with her hand.

Having come out of the square, they parted; but, having gone a few steps, Jennka suddenly called after him:

"Sergei Ivanovich, oh Sergei Ivanovich! ..."

He stopped, turned around, walked back to her.

"Roly-Poly croaked last evening in our drawing room. He jumped and he jumped, and then suddenly plumped down ... Oh, well, it's an easy death at least! And also I forgot to ask you, Sergei Ivanovich ... This is the last, now ... Is there a G.o.d or no?"

Platonov knit his eyebrows.

"What answer can I make? I don't know. I think that there is, but not such as we imagine Him. He is more wise, more just..."

"And future life? There, after death? Is there, now, as they tell us, a paradise or h.e.l.l? Is that the truth? Or is there just nothing at all? A barren void? A sleep without a dream? A dark bas.e.m.e.nt?"

Platonov kept silent, trying not to look at Jennka. He felt oppressed and frightened.

"I don't know," said he, finally, with an effort. "I don't want to lie to you."

Jennka sighed, and smiled with a pitiful, twisted smile.

"Well, thanks, my dear. And thanks for even that much ... I wish you happiness. With all my soul. Well, good-bye..."

She turned away from him and began slowly, with a wavering walk, to climb up the hill.

Platonov returned to work just in the nick of time. The gathering of tramps, scratching, yawning, working out their accustomed dislocations, were getting into their places. Zavorotny, at a distance, with his keen eyes caught sight of Platonov and began to yell over the whole port:

"You did manage to get here in time, you round-shouldered devil ... But I was already wanting to take you by the tail and chase you out of the gang ... Well, get in your place! ..."

"Well, but I did get a he-dog in you, Serejka! ..." he added, in a kindly manner. "If only it was night; but no,--look you, he starts in playing ring-around-a-rosie in broad daylight..."