The awakening which had come to me was noticed by my employers. The old lady scolded me.
"You read too much, and you have not cleaned the samovar for four days, you young monkey! I shall have to take the rolling-pin to you—"
What did I care for the rolling-pin? I took refuge in verses.
Loving black evil with all thy heart,
O old witch that thou art!
The lady rose still higher in my esteem. See what books she read! She was not like the tailor's porcelain wife.
When I took back the book, and handed it to her with regret, she said in a tone which invited confidence:
"Did you like it? Had you heard of Pushkin before?"
I had read something about the poet in one of the newspapers, but I wanted her to tell me about him, so I said that I had never heard of him.
Then she briefly told me the life and death of Pushkin, and asked, smiling like a spring day:
"Do you see how dangerous it is to love women?"