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Moreover, just before this encounter with Gubin, I had arrived at a dim surmise that when such differences were carried to the point of madness and bloodshed.
Independently of my own volition I forestalled what Gubin might next have been going to say by remarking: "I must tell you that last night he saw you walking in the garden here." "Indeed?" she ejaculated, and drew herself to her full height.
With a good-humoured glance in response, and his mouth open, Gubin waved a hand in greeting: "Good day to YOU, Nadezhda Ivanovna," he replied. "How are you this morning?" Somehow this made her blush, and cross her arms upon her ample bosom, while her kindly, rounded, eminently Russian face evinced the ghost of a shy smile.
Gubin began by declining to believe me, but eventually, after the matter had been thought out, said: "Acceptance of money for doing what is right is certainly irregular; but at least is it better than acceptance of money for conniving at sin. Well, you have spoilt my scheme, young fellow.
To you the world has been wearisome, so, while devising this revolt as a resource, you have excused it on the ground of service of God and love of equity, while in reality constituting yourself the devil's workman." Here Nadezhda plucked at my sleeve, and tried to pull me away, but I remarked: "I MUST learn what Gubin has got to say in answer."
"Ah, little children of mine!" Upon that Gubin suddenly desisted from his task of hauling up the bucket, and, as he steadied the rope with his arms raised above his head, said quickly: "Nadezhda Ivanovna, you ought indeed to have had some children six at the least!" Yet no reply came, nor did the woman even look at him.
As for Gubin, he went to sleep with a last drowsy remark of: "Life is all falsity. Husbands, wives, fathers, children all of them practise deceit."
"Just see what he writes us." He handed over the missive, which read as follows: MESSRS. POTASH & PERLMUTTER. Gents: We are requested by Mrs. Kreitmann of your city to ask about a young fellow what works for you by the name of Emanuel Gubin. Has he any future, and what is his prospects? Dic. P. S. I don't like such monkey business. I thought you knew it. I don't want no salesman.
No, tell her that she will not be wanted, that I cannot, that I must not But see here. Here is a rouble for you. Oh, good Lord!" By this time even louder and more angry exclamations had begun to ascend from Gubin.
And once more, with a creaking of the pulley, the bucket would descend bumping and thudding against the lining of the well as it did so, and bespattering afresh my head and shoulders with its filth. Rightly speaking, the Birkins ought to have cleared out the well themselves! "Let us exchange places," I cried at length. "What is wrong?" inquired Gubin in response
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