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"No, no," interrupted David: "that would have been foolish. But what shall we do with it now?" "Yes, what shall we?" It ticked to be sure somewhat unevenly and the minute-hand was slowly advancing. "Shall we bury it again, or throw it into the river?" I asked at last. "Or shall we not give it to Latkin?" "No," answered David, "none of those things. But do you know?
But Latkin, under the influence of an unexplained, incomprehensible feeling, envy, greed or perhaps even a momentary fit of honesty "gave away" my father, betrayed him to their common client, a wealthy young merchant, opening this careless young man's eyes to a certain well, piece of sharp practice, destined to bring my father considerable profit.
Near her stood her little dumb sister, playing quietly with a whip, and before the steps, with his back to me, was Latkin in a shabby, torn jacket, his feet in felt slippers, bending over her and brandishing his elbows and stalking about.
He fell to praying to one of the corners, crossing himself fervently several times in succession, tapping first one shoulder and then the other with his fingers and hurriedly repeating: "Have mercy me, oh, Lor ... me, oh, Lor ... me, oh, Lor ..." My father, who had not taken his eyes off Latkin, and had not uttered a word, suddenly started, stood beside him and began crossing himself, too.
"Do what you please, do whatever you think you may," he said in a low, sad voice, and he left the room, completely broken down. "Lord my! Lord my! have mercy on me!" repeated Latkin. "I am a man." "Good-bye, David," said Raissa, leaving the room with her father.
There's the ikon and there's the door! Neither you in my house nor I in yours. You are too honest for us. How can we keep company with you? But may you have no house nor home!" It was in vain that Latkin entreated my father and bowed down before him; it was in vain that he tried to explain to him what filled his own soul with painful perplexity.
She must have seen...." And all at once I remembered that the very moment of David's fall, a terrible piercing shriek had rung in my ears. "Was not that Raissa? But how was it I did not see her afterwards?" Before the little house in which Latkin lodged there stretched a waste-ground overgrown with nettles and surrounded by a broken hurdle.
You are too honest for me, sir: how could we get along together? But you sha'n't have a bit of ground to stand on, nor a roof over your head." In vain did Latkin beg for mercy and fling himself on the ground before him: in vain did he try to explain what had filled his own soul with painful astonishment. "Just consider, Porphyr Petrovitch," he stammered forth.
David took him to the requiem service for Latkin; I went to it, too, my father did not hinder my going but remained at home himself. Raissa impressed me by her calm: she looked pale and much thinner but did not shed tears and spoke and behaved with perfect simplicity; and with all that, strange to say, I saw a certain grandeur in her; the unconscious grandeur of sorrow forgetful of itself!
Oh, dear!" "Good-bye, good-bye," Latkin kept repeating, still with the same bow. I went up to Raissa and stood directly facing her. "Raissa, dear, what's the matter with you?" She made no answer, she seemed not to notice me. Her face had not grown pale, had not changed but had turned somehow stony and there was a look in it as though she were just falling asleep.