The Little Demon - Fyodor Sologub (reading the story of the TXT) 📗

the garden. They all had the same features and they all resembled their brother; they were handsome, rosy and cheerful. They were Larissa, a tranquil, pleasant, plump woman, who was married; the quick, agile Darya, the tallest and the slenderest of the sisters; the mischievous Liudmilla, and Valeria who was small, delicate and fragile-looking.

They were eating nuts and raisins. They were obviously waiting for something and were therefore rather agitated and laughed more than usual as they recalled the latest town gossip. They ridiculed both their own acquaintances and strangers.

Ever since the early morning they had been quite prepared to be married. It was only necessary for one of them to put on a suitable dress with a veil and flowers. Varvara was not mentioned in the sisters’ conversation, as though she did not exist. But it was sufficient that they, the pitiless gossips, who pulled everyone to pieces, should refrain from mentioning Varvara; this complete silence showed that the idea of Varvara was fixed like a nail in the mind of each.

“I’ve brought him,” announced Routilov entering the drawing-room. “He’s at the gate.” The sisters rose in an agitated way and all began to talk and laugh at the same time.

“There’s only one difficulty,” said Routilov laughingly.

“And what’s that?” asked Darya.

Valeria frowned her handsome, dark eyebrows in a vexed way.

“I don’t know whether to tell you or not,” hesitated Routilov.

“Be quick about it,” urged Darya.

Routilov in some confusion told them what Peredonov wanted. The girls raised an outcry and they all began to abuse Peredonov; but little by little their indignation gave place to jokes and laughter. Darya made a face of grim expectation and said:

“But he’s waiting at the gate!”

It was becoming an amusing adventure.

The girls began to peep out the window towards the gate. Darya opened the window and cried out:

“Ardalyon Borisitch, can we say it out of the window?”

The morose answer came back:

“No!”

Darya quickly slammed down the window. The sisters burst into gay, unrestrained laughter, and ran from the drawing-room into the dining-room so that Peredonov might not hear them. The members of this family were so constituted that they could easily pass from a state of the most intense anger into a state of merriment, and it was the cheerful word that usually decided a matter.

Peredonov stood and waited. He felt depressed and afraid. He thought he would run away, but could not decide. Somewhere from afar the sounds of music reached him: the frail, tender sounds poured themselves out in the quiet, dark, night air, and they awoke sadness, and gave birth to pleasant reveries.

At the beginning, Peredonov’s reveries took on an erotic turn. He imagined the Routilov girls in the most seductive poses. But the longer he waited, the more irritated he became at being forced to wait. And the music, which had barely aroused his hopelessly coarse emotions, died for him.

All around him the night descended quietly, and rustled with its ill-boding hoverings and whisperings. And it seemed even darker everywhere because Peredonov stood in an open space lit up by the drawing-room lamp; its two streaks of light broadened as they reached the neighbouring fence, the dark planks of which became visible. The trees in the depth of the garden assumed dark, suspicious, whispering shapes. Someone’s slow, heavy footsteps sounded nearby on the street pavement. Peredonov began to feel apprehensive that while waiting here he might be attacked, and robbed, even murdered. He pressed against the very wall in the shadow, and timidly waited.

But suddenly long shadows shot out across the streaks of light in the garden, a door slammed, and voices were heard on the verandah. Peredonov grew animated. “They are coming,” he thought joyously, and agreeable thoughts about the three beauties stole softly once more into his mind⁠—disgusting children of his dull imagination.

The sisters stood in the passage. Routilov walked to the gate and looked to see if anyone was in the street. No one was to be seen or heard.

“There’s no one about,” he whispered loudly to his sisters, using his hands as a speaking-trumpet.

He remained in the street to keep watch. Peredonov joined him.

“They’re coming out to speak to you,” said Routilov.

Peredonov stood at the gate and looked through the chink between the gate and the gatepost.

His face was morose and almost frightened, and all sorts of fancies and thoughts expired in his mind and were replaced by a heavy, aimless desire.

Darya was the first to come up to the open gate.

“What can I do to please you?” she asked.

Peredonov was morosely silent.

Darya said:

“I will make you the crispest pancakes piping hot⁠—only don’t choke over them.”

Liudmilla cried over her shoulder:

“I’ll go down every morning and collect all the gossip to tell you. That will make us jolly.”

Between the two girls’ cheerful faces showed for a moment Valeria’s slender, capricious face, and her slight, frail voice was heard:

“I wouldn’t tell you for anything how I shall please you⁠—you’d better guess yourself.”

The sisters ran away laughing. Their voices and laughter ceased directly they were in the house. Peredonov turned away from the gate; he was not quite satisfied. He thought: “They babbled something and then ran away.” It would have been far better if they’d put it on paper. But he had already stood here waiting long enough.

“Well, are you satisfied?” asked Routilov. “Which one do you like best?”

Peredonov was lost in thought. Of course, he concluded at last, he ought to take the youngest. A young woman is always better than an older one.

“Bring Valeria here,” he said decisively.

Routilov went into the house and Peredonov again entered the garden.

Liudmilla looked stealthily out of the window, trying to make out what they were saying, without any success. But suddenly there were sounds of someone approaching by the garden path. The sisters kept silent and sat there nervously. Routilov entered and announced:

“He’s chosen Valeria, and he’s waiting at the gate!”

The sisters grew noisy at once and began to laugh.

Valeria went slightly pale.

“Well, well,” she said ironically, “I needed him very