Part 11

He heard the gravel crunch under him, and felt a sharp pain in his knees. He lay crouching on all fours for some moments, stunned by the fall. He felt that in a minute out would come the gloomy-looking porter, raise a cry and make a fearful to do.... But the same brooding and self-important silence reigned in the garden as before. Only a sort of strange monotonous buzzing sounded everywhere about the villa and the estate.

"Zhu ... zhzhu ... zhzhu...."

"Ah, that's the noise in my ears," guessed Sergey. When he got on his feet again and looked round, all the garden had become dreadful and mysterious, and beautiful as in a fairy tale, a scented dream. On the flower-beds the flowers, barely visible in the darkness, leaned toward one another as if communicating a vague alarm. The magnificent dark-scented cypresses nodded pensively, and seemed to reflect reproachfully over all. And beyond a little stream the tired little bird struggled with its desire to slumber, and cried submissively and plaintively, "_Splew, splew,_ I sleep, I sleep."

Sergey could not recognise the place in the darkness for the confusion of the paths and the shadows. He wandered for some time on the crunching gravel before he found the house.

He had never in his whole life felt such complete helplessness and torturesome loneliness and desolation as he did now. The immense house felt as if it must be full of concealed enemies watching him with wicked glee, peering at him from the dark windows. Every moment he expected to hear some sort of signal or wrathful fierce command.

"... Only not in the house ... he couldn't possibly be in the house," whispered the boy to himself as in a dream; "if they put him in the house he would begin to howl, and they'd soon get tired of it...."

He walked right round the house. At the back, in the wide yard, were several outhouses more or less simple and capacious, evidently designed for the accommodation of servants. There was not a light in any of them, and none in the great house itself; only the moon saw itself darkly in the dull dead windows. "I shan't ever get away from here; no, never!" thought Sergey to himself despairingly, and just for a moment his thoughts went back to the sleeping tavern and grandfather and the old organ, and to the place where they had slept in the afternoon, to their life of the road, and he whispered softly to himself, "Never, never any more of that again," and so thinking, his fear changed to a sort of calm and despairing conviction.

But then suddenly he became aware of a faint, far-off whimpering. The boy stood still as if spellbound, not daring to move. The whimpering sound was repeated. It seemed to come from the stone cellar near which Sergey was standing, and which was ventilated by a window with no glass, just four rough square openings. Stepping across a flower-bed, the boy went up to the wall, pressed his face to one of the openings, and whistled. He heard a slight cautious movement somewhere in the depths, and then all was silent.

"Arto, Artoshka!" cried Sergey, in a trembling whisper.

At this there burst out at once a frantic burst of barking, filling the whole garden and echoing from all sides. In this barking there was expressed, not only joyful welcome, but piteous complaint and rage, and physical pain. One could hear how the dog was tugging and pulling at something in the dark cellar, trying to get free.

"Arto! Doggikin!... Artoshenka!..." repeated the boy in a sobbing voice.

"Peace, cursed one! Ah, you convict!" cried a brutal bass voice from below.

There was a sound of beating from the cellar. The dog gave vent to a long howl.

"Don't dare to kill him! Kill the dog if you dare, you villain!" cried Sergey, quite beside himself, scratching the stone wall with his nails.

What happened after that Sergey only remembered confusedly, like something he had experienced in a dreadful nightmare. The door of the cellar opened wide with a noise, and out rushed the porter. He was only in his pantaloons, bare-footed, bearded, pale from the bright light of the moon, which was shining straight in his face. To Sergey he seemed like a giant or an enraged monster, escaped from a fairy tale.

"Who goes there? I shall shoot. Thieves! Robbers!" thundered the voice of the porter.

At that moment, however, there rushed from the door of the cellar out into the darkness Arto, with a broken cord hanging from his neck.

There was no question of the boy following the dog. The sight of the porter filled him with supernatural terror, tied his feet, and seemed to paralyse his whole body. Fortunately, this state of nerves didn't last long. Almost involuntarily Sergey gave vent to a piercing and despairing shriek, and he took to his heels at random, not looking where he was going, and absolutely forgetting himself from fear.

He went off like a bird, his feet striking the ground as if they had suddenly become two steel springs, and by his side ran Arto, joyfully and effusively barking. After them came the porter, heavily, shouting and swearing at them as he went.

Sergey was making for the gate, but suddenly he had an intuition that there was no road for him that way. Along the white stone wall of the garden was a narrow track in the shelter of the cypress trees, and Sergey flung himself along this path, obedient to the one feeling of fright. The sharp needles of the cypress trees, pregnant with the smell of pitch, struck him in the face. He fell over some roots and hurt his arm so that the blood came, but jumped up at once, not even noticing the pain, and went on as fast as ever, bent double, and still followed by Arto.

So he ran along this narrow corridor, with the wall on one side and the closely ranged file of cypresses on the other, ran as might a crazy little forest animal feeling itself in an endless trap. His mouth grew dry, his breathing was like needles in his breast, yet all the time the noise of the following porter was audible, and the boy, losing his head, ran back to the gate again and then once more up the narrow pathway, and back again.

At last Sergey ran himself tired. Instead of the wild terror, he began to feel a cold, deadly melancholy, a tired indifference to danger. He sat down under a tree, and pressed his tired-out body to the trunk and closed his eyes. Nearer and nearer came the heavy steps of the enemy. Arto whimpered softly, putting his nose between the boy's knees.

Two steps from where Sergey sat a big branch of a tree bent downward. The boy, raising his eyes accidentally, was suddenly seized with joy and jumped to his feet at a bound, for he noticed that at the place where he was sitting the wall was very low, not more than a yard and a half in height. The top was plastered with lime and broken bottle-glass, but Sergey did not give that a thought. In the twinkling of an eye he grabbed Arto by the body, and lifting him up put him with his fore-legs on the top of the wall. The clever poodle understood perfectly, clambered on to the top, wagged his tail and barked triumphantly.

Sergey followed him, making use of the branches of the cypress, and he had hardly got on to the top of the wall before he caught sight of a large, shadowy face. Two supple, agile bodies--the dog's and the boy's--went quickly and softly to the bottom, on to the road, and following them, like a dirty stream, came the vile, malicious abuse of the porter.

But whether it was that the porter was less sure on his feet than our two friends, or was tired with running round the garden, or had simply given up hope of overtaking them, he followed them no further. Nevertheless, they ran on as fast as they could without resting, strong, light-footed, as if the joy of deliverance had given them wings. The poodle soon began to exhibit his accustomed frivolity. Sergey often looked back fearfully over his shoulders, but Arto leapt on him, wagging his ears ecstatically, and waving the bit of cord that was hanging from his neck, actually licking Sergey's face with his long tongue. The boy became calm only by the time they got to the spring where the afternoon before grandfather and he had made their lunch. There both the boy and the dog put their lips to the cold stream, and drank long and eagerly of the fresh and pleasant water. They got in one another's way with their heads, and thinking they had quenched their thirst, yet returned to the basin to drink more, and would not stop. When at last they got away from the spot the water rolled about in their overfull insides as they ran. The danger past, all the terrors of the night explored, they felt gay now, and light-hearted, going along the white road brightly lit up by the moon, going through the dark shrubs, now wet with morning dew, and exhaling the sweet scent of freshened leaves.

At the door of the coffee-house Eeldeez, Ibrahim met the boy and whispered reproachfully:

"Where's you been a-roving, boy? Where's you been? No, no, no, zat's not good...."

Sergey did not wish to wake grandfather, but Arto did it for him. He at once found the old man in the midst of the other people sleeping on the floor, and quite forgetting himself, licked him all over his cheeks and eyes and nose and mouth, yelping joyfully. Grandfather awoke, saw the broken cord hanging from the poodle's neck, saw the boy lying beside him covered with dust, and understood all. He asked Sergey to explain, but got no answer. The little boy was asleep, his arms spread out on the floor, his mouth wide open.

X

THE ELEPHANT

I

The little girl was unwell. Every day the doctor came to see her, Dr. Michael Petrovitch, whom she had known long, long ago. And sometimes he brought with him two other doctors whom she didn't know. They turned the little girl over on to her back and then on to her stomach, listened to something, putting an ear against her body, pulled down her under eyelids and looked at them. They seemed very important people, they had stern faces, and they spoke to one another in a language the little girl did not understand.

Afterwards they went out from the nursery into the drawing-room, where mother sat waiting for them. The most important doctor--the tall one with grey hair and gold eye-glasses--talked earnestly to her for a long time. The door was not shut, and the little girl lying on her bed could see and hear all. There was much that she didn't understand, but she knew the talk was about her. Mother looked up at the doctor with large, tired, tear-filled eyes. When the doctors went away the chief one said loudly:

"The most important thing is--don't let her be dull. Give in to all her whims."

"Ah, doctor, but she doesn't want anything!"

"Well, I don't know ... think what she used to like before she was ill. Toys ... something nice to eat...."

"No, no, doctor; she doesn't want _anything._"

"Well, try and tempt her with something.... No matter what it is.... I give you my word that if you can only make her laugh and enjoy herself, it would be better than any medicine. You must understand that your daughter's illness is indifference to life, and nothing more.... Good morning, madam!"

II

"Dear Nadya, my dear little girl," said mother; "isn't there anything you would like to have?"

"No, mother, I don't want anything."

"Wouldn't you like me to put out all your dolls on the bed? We'll arrange the easy chair, the sofa, the little table, and put the tea-service out. The dolls shall have tea and talk to one another about the weather and their children's health."

"Thank you, mother.... I don't want it.... It's so dull...."

"Oh, very well, little girlie, we won't have the dolls. Suppose we ask Katya or Zhenochka to come and see you. You're very fond of them."

"I don't want them, mother. Indeed, I don't. I don't want anything, don't want anything. I'm so dull!"

"Shall I get you some chocolate?"

But the little girl didn't answer, she lay and stared at the ceiling with steadfast, mournful eyes. She had no pain at all, she wasn't even feverish. But she was getting thinner and weaker every day. She didn't mind what was done to her; it made no difference, she didn't care for anything. She lay like this all day and all night, quiet, mournful. Sometimes she would doze for half an hour, and then in her dreams she would see something long and grey and dull, as if she were looking at rain in autumn.

When the door leading from the nursery into the drawing-room was open, and the other door into the study was open too, the little girl could see her father. Father would walk swiftly from one corner of the room to the other, and all the time he would smoke, smoke. Sometimes he would come into the nursery and sit on the edge of Nadya's bed and stroke her feet gently. Then he would get up suddenly and go to the window, whistle a little, and look out into the street, but his shoulders would tremble. He would hurriedly press his handkerchief first to one eye and then to the other, and then go back into his study as if he were angry. Then he would begin again to pace up and down and smoke ... and smoke ... and smoke. And his study would look all blue from the clouds of tobacco smoke.

III

One morning the little girl woke to feel a little stronger than usual. She had dreamed something, but she couldn't remember exactly what she had dreamed, and she looked attentively into her mother's eyes for a long time.

"What would you like?" asked mother.

But the little girl had suddenly remembered her dream, and she said in a whisper, as if it were a secret:

"Mother ... could I have ... an elephant? Only not one that's painted in a picture.... Eh?"

"Of course you can, my child, of course."

She went into the study and told papa that the little girl wanted an elephant. Papa put on his coat and hat directly, and went off somewhere. In half an hour he came back, bringing with him an expensive beautiful toy. It was a large grey elephant that could move its head and wave its tail; on its back was a red saddle, and on the saddle there was a golden vent with three little men sitting inside. But the little girl paid no attention to the toy; she only looked up at the walls and ceiling, and said languidly:

"No. That's not at all what I meant. I wanted a real live elephant, and this one's dead."

"But only look at it, Nadya," said mamma. "We'll wind him up, and he'll be exactly, exactly like a live one."

The elephant was wound up with a key, and it then began to move its legs and walk slowly along the table, nodding its head and waving its tail. But the little girl wasn't interested at all; she was even bored by it, though in order that her father shouldn't feel hurt she whispered kindly:

"Thank you very very much, dear papa. I don't think anyone has such an interesting toy as this.... Only ... you remember ... long ago, you promised to take me to a menagerie to see a real elephant ... and you didn't bring it here...."

"But listen, my dear child. Don't you understand that that's impossible. An elephant is very big; he's as high as the ceiling, and we couldn't get him into our rooms. And what's more, where could I obtain one?"

"Papa, I don't want such a big one.... You could bring me as little a one as you like, so long as it's alive. As big as this ... a baby elephant."

"My dear child, I should be glad to do anything for you, but this is impossible. It's just as if you suddenly said to me, 'Papa, get me the sun out of the sky.'"

The little girl smiled sadly.

"How stupid you are, papa! As if I didn't know it's impossible to get the sun, it's all on fire. And the moon, too, you can't get. No, if only I had a little elephant ... a real one."

And she quietly closed her eyes and whispered:

"I'm tired.... Forgive me, papa...."

Papa clutched at his hair and ran away to his study, where for some time he marched up and down. Then he resolutely threw his unfinished cigarette on the floor--mamma was always grumbling at him about this--and called out to the maid:

"Olga! Bring me my hat and coat!"

His wife came out into the hall.

"Where are you going, Sasha?" asked she.

He breathed heavily as he buttoned up his coat.

"I don't know myself, Mashenka, where I'm going. ... Only I think that this evening I shall actually bring a live elephant here.

His wife looked anxiously at him.

"My dear, are you quite well?" said she. "Haven't you got a headache? Perhaps you slept badly last night?"

"I didn't sleep at all," he answered angrily. "I see, you want to ask if I'm going out of my mind. Not just yet. Good-bye. You'll see this evening."

And he went off, loudly slamming the front door after him.

IV

In two hours' time he was seated in the front row at the menagerie, and watching trained animals perform their different parts under the direction of the manager. Clever dogs jumped, turned somersaults, danced, sang to music, made words with large cardboard letters. Monkeys--one in a red skirt, the other in blue knickers--walked the tight rope and rode upon a large poodle. An immense tawny lion jumped through burning hoops. A clumsy seal fired a pistol. And at last they brought out the elephants. There were three of them: one large and two quite small ones, dwarfs; but all the same, much larger than a horse. It was strange to see how these enormous animals, apparently so heavy and awkward, could perform the most difficult tricks which would be out of the power of a very skilful man. The largest elephant distinguished himself particularly. He stood up at first on his hind legs, then sat down, then stood on his head with his feet in the air, walked along wooden bottles, then on a rolling cask, turned over the pages of a large picture-book with his tail, and, finally, sat down at a table and, tying a serviette round his neck, had his dinner just like a well-brought-up little boy.

The show came to an end. The spectators went out. Nadya's father went up to the stout German, the manager of the menagerie. He was standing behind a partition smoking a long black cigar.

"Pardon me, please," said Nadya's father. "Would it be possible for you to send your elephant to my house for a short time?"

The German's eyes opened wide in astonishment, and his mouth also, so that the cigar fell to the ground. He made an exclamation, bent down, picked up the cigar, put it in his mouth again, and then said:

"Send? The elephant? To your house? I don't understand you."

It was evident from his look that he also wanted to ask Nadya's father if he were a little wrong in the head.... But the father quickly began to explain the matter: his only daughter, Nadya, was ill with a strange malady which no doctor could understand nor cure. She had lain for a month in her bed, had grown thinner and weaker every day, wasn't interested in anything, was only dull--she seemed to be slowly dying. The doctors had said she must be roused, but she didn't care for anything; they had said that all her desires were to be gratified, but she didn't wish for anything at all. To-day she had said she wanted to see a live elephant. Wasn't it possible to manage that she should?

And he took the German by the button of his coat, and added in a trembling voice:

"Well ... of course I hope that my little girl will get well again. But suppose ... God forbid it!... her illness should take a sudden turn for the worse ... and she should die! Just think--shouldn't I be tortured for all the rest of my life to think that I hadn't fulfilled her last, her very last wish!"

The German wrinkled up his forehead and thoughtfully scratched his left eyebrow with his little finger. At length he asked:

"H'm.... And how old is your little girl?"

"Six."

"H'm.... My Lisa's six, too. H'm. But you know, it'll cost you a lot. We'll have to take the elephant one night, and we can't bring it back till the next night. It'll be impossible to do it in the day-time. There'd be such crowds of people, and such a fuss.... It means that I should lose a whole day, and you ought to pay me for it."

"Of course, of course ... don't be anxious about that."

"And then: will the police allow an elephant to be taken into a private house?"

"I'll arrange it. They'll allow it."

"And there's another question: will the landlord of your house allow the elephant to come in?"

"Yes. I'm my own landlord."

"Aha! That's all the better. And still another question: what floor do you live on?"

"The second."

"H'm.... That's not so good.... Have you a broad staircase, a high ceiling, a large room, wide doorways, and a very stout flooring. Because my 'Tommy' is three and a quarter arshins in height and five and a half long. And he weighs a hundred and twelve poods."[1]

[1] An arshin is about 3/4 of a yard, and a pood is 36 lbs.

Nadya's father thought for a moment.

"Do you know what?" said he. "You come with me and look at the place. If it's necessary, I'll have a wider entrance made."

"Very good!" agreed the manager of the menagerie.

V

That night they brought the elephant to visit the sick girl.

He marched importantly down the very middle of the street, nodding his head and curling up and uncurling his trunk. A great crowd of people came with him, in spite of the late hour. But the elephant paid no attention to the people; he saw hundreds of them every day in the menagerie. Only once did he get a little angry. A street urchin ran up to him under his very legs, and began to make grimaces for the diversion of the sight-seers.

Then the elephant quietly took off the boy's cap with his trunk and threw it over a wall near by, which was protected at the top by projecting nails.

A policeman came up to the people and tried to persuade them:

"Gentlemen, I beg you to go away. What's there here unusual? I'm astonished at you! As if you never saw an elephant in the street before."

They came up to the house. On the staircase, and all the way up to the dining-room where the elephant was to go, every door was opened wide; the latches had all been pushed down with a hammer. It was just the same as had been done once when they brought a large wonder-working ikon into the house.

But when he came to the staircase the elephant stopped in alarm, and refused to go on.

"You must get him some dainty to eat," said the German.... "A sweet cake or something.... But ... Tommy! ... Oho-ho ... Tommy!"

Nadya's father ran off to a neighbouring confectioner's and bought a large round pistachio tart. The elephant looked as if he would like to eat it at one gulp, and the cardboard box it was in as well, but the German gave him only a quarter of the tart.... Tommy evidently liked it, and stretched out his trunk for a second morsel. But the German was cunning. Holding the tart in his hand he went up the staircase, step by step, and the elephant unwillingly followed him with outstretched trunk and bristling ears. On the landing Tommy was given a second piece.

In this way they brought him into the dining-room, from whence all the furniture had been taken out beforehand, and the floor had been strewn with a thick layer of straw.... Tommy was fastened by the leg to a ring which had been screwed into the floor. They put some fresh carrots, cabbages and turnips in front of him. The German stretched himself out on a sofa by Tommy's side. The lights were put out, and everybody went to bed.

VI

Next morning the little girl woke very early, and asked, first thing:

"The elephant? Has he come?"

"Yes, he's come," said mamma; "but he says that Nadya must first of all be washed, and then eat a soft-boiled egg and drink some hot milk."

"Is he good?"

"Yes, he's good. Eat it up, dear. We'll go and see him in a minute."

"Is he funny?"

"Yes, a little. Put on your warm bodice."

The egg was quickly eaten, and the milk drunk. Nadya was put in the perambulator in which she used to be taken out when she was too small to walk by herself, and wheeled into the dining-room.