“So that was settled,” continued the narrator, “I went about Moscow and bought the goods, and arranged my business properly, and at the time we’d agreed on I went to Patrìkyev’s. I walked through all the rooms, but my friend wasn’t there; so I sat down and waited, but he never came. I waited two whole hours, till at last I felt quite ashamed; so I ordered something, and ate it alone, and went away without him. Stupid-like, I’d forgotten to ask his address. ‘I shall have to wait another day,’ thought I, for I can’t get on without the pills. So I stopped another night, and next day, at the same time, I went to the tavern again. Still he wasn’t there! Well, there was nothing for it, I had to get back home. I didn’t go straight home, I went into the town, because I had bought some things—bottles, and flasks, and one thing and another.... I thought I’d manage to put up for the night there; the stove was all finished in the kitchen, and the windows were put in; so I went to the house. I’d got a peasant there for a watchman—Rodiòn his name was; there were ten carpenters in the house; they were just going to bed. I came in and told Rodiòn to heat the samovar. I noticed that he looked at me in a queer sort of way. He did what I told him, and all that, but I could see there was something wrong; I couldn’t rightly make it out.... He kept on looking at me.... I told him—‘Put down that box, and see you don’t set it too near the stove; for if it should get too warm—the Lord forbid!’... Because you see, I’d got varnish and spirit in the box.... Well, when I told him that, he just opened his eyes and stared at me. First he stared at me, and then he stared at the box. He stared, and stared, and then he went away. I sat and waited a quarter of an hour, but he didn’t come back; so I went out into the passage, and there stood the samovar, quite cold. ‘I wonder if he’s gone for water,’ I thought. I called, and called, and he didn’t answer. It was a wonderful sort of business altogether. I went and got out some dried fish (I’d brought two pounds of it from Moscow—good dried sturgeon, at eighty kopecks a pound)—I got out some fish, and cut a slice of white bread, and laid it on, and made a sort of sandwich, you know, and crossed myself, and just opened my mouth—the Lord make us truly thankful—when all of a sudden there was such a crackling and howling and blowing of whistles all round the house; and all the carpenters ran to the windows and stared like stuck pigs.... I threw down my sandwich and ran to the door, and knocked up right against a uniform. And there was Rodiòn pointing at me, and saying ‘That’s he!’ Seven or eight of them caught hold of me and began to drag me along; and I, of course, yelled and shouted, ‘Hold hard! What’s the matter?’—‘You’ll be told there!’—‘Anyway, let me dress myself,’ says I; ‘it’s autumn; it’s cold!’—‘We haven’t got any ladies!’... It was no use, they’d got me tight. I didn’t know what it was all about; I couldn’t make head or tail of it. And there they began dragging me along. And there were the carpenters and workmen and watchmen and doorkeepers—the Lord defend us! And why, and what it was all about, I couldn’t get the hang of it at all. ‘For mercy’s sake,’ I shrieked to them; ‘I’m a tradesman; I’m a householder; I’m a man of property; I’ve got a wife and children!’... And all the answer I got was: ‘Yes, by one of the stations in Moscow there were householders living, too, and they’d got their wives.’... When the people heard that, oho! you should have seen how they squared up to me! I saw it was a bad business; I’d got into hot water, and no mistake; and didn’t even know what for.... When they said that, I just felt my flesh creep.... I told them: ‘I’m innocent! May the lightning strike me dead if I.... I’ve prayed for him with tears.... I’d give my life for him!’... I was innocent before God; and yet I just shook all over! I began thinking: ‘Supposing there turns out to be some evidence! There may be something.... God knows! What will become of me then? What shall I do?’ My very inside got cold. Then I began thinking: ‘Heaven defend us! They’ll take my wife too; and it’ll kill her! She’d die if they just looked at her! What will she do when she hears about it?’ In fact, I lost my head altogether, and got so I couldn’t remember or think of anything; I just went on and on, shaking all over, and with no hat.... All of a sudden, what should come into my head: ‘Supposing it’s all a trick? There was a case in Moscow, at the Rogòzhskoye cemetery; they came in full uniform and took a lot of money, and went away; and then it turned out that they’d been only thieves.’ It just came into my head, and it made my very heart jump; and I said to myself: ‘Why, what a silly fellow I am to let them trick me like that! I left a lot of money in the house—over seven hundred roubles.... What’s the use of being such a fool?’ And directly that came into my head, I thought: ‘I’ll see if I can’t get myself out of the mess my own way;’ and I think, gentlemen, you can see for yourselves that I’m not much like a baby in arms.”... (The narrator here drew up his gigantic form to its full height, squared back his colossal shoulders, and, rolling up his sleeve, held out for inspection a mighty fist.)... “I think I’ve got what you may call means of defence. And here, at a time like that, I seemed all at once to gather up strength all over my body. I felt it rush into my neck and my chest and my legs; and into my arm there went such an iron strength of will that I just squared up, and made them see sparks enough to last their life-time; and hit and hammered, and banged and boxed, and punched their heads, and flattened their noses, and squeezed their ribs ... and when I looked round there was an empty space all about me, and there I stood alone in my shirt, like Mìnin and Pozhàrsky[[53]] in the Red Square; and all the people kicking and wriggling about like fish thrown up on the bank: there was one head-downwards in a puddle; and another had got stuck fast in the wattle-fence, and was kicking away and couldn’t get out. In one word, I had scattered the might of the devil till it melted away like wax! So there I stood alone in the middle of the battle-field, and said: ‘What have you done with me, you villains?’”
At this point in his story the giant was magnificent to behold, but the lad who stood listening to him was still more magnificent. When the miller told how he had “hammered and banged,” accompanying the narration with appropriate gestures, the arms and legs and whole body of the lad were continually in motion. He was utterly unable, while looking at the miller, to refrain from imitating his gestures. He kept squaring his elbows, and thrusting his fist into empty space, and more than once came into collision with the thin red-wood door of the cabin.
“What are you smashing the door for, you heathen idol?” exclaimed the steward, severely. But though the lad glanced round at the words, he evidently did not understand them; and the miller, for his part, had worked himself up into such a state of fury that he paid no heed to either the lad or the steward or the audience, who could not refrain from smiling.
“‘What have you done with me, you shameless scoundrels?’” he continued, frantically. “‘What right have you? Do you think the law allows such things? Why, it’s robbery and violence! Come near me if you dare! I’ll kill you outright! I’ll tear you in pieces!...’ There I stood, blazing away at them, and never noticed that they were getting back their senses and coming at me again. Suddenly I looked back, and if there wasn’t the whole squadron coming up behind me.... Up they came; and if you’d seen the way they rushed at me from behind, and the way they set off shouting—it’s just a wonder I’m alive!... ‘Ah! so we’re attacked in the discharge of our duty! Ah! ah! ah! So that’s what you go in for!... You’ve got a box!... If that’s it, my lads, give the great hulking fellow what for!’”
Here the lad nearly choked with laughter, but restrained himself.
“‘Hammer him black and blue!...’ And what came next?... They blew their whistles, and sprang their rattles, and banged their truncheons, and fire seemed to come out of my head and out of my ears, and my neck was just like red-hot iron.... I heard some one say, ‘There’s an important telegram about him; he’s got a box.’... And I shouted to them, ‘There’s varnish in it—varnish!...’ ‘Oho! Varnish! Pay him out, my lads, pay him out well!’”
At this point the lad could restrain himself no longer; he burst out laughing, turned to run out into the passage, and striking his head violently against the lintel of the door, literally tumbled down at the foot of the stairs in a fit of laughter. The narrator looked severely at him, but continued—
“And my friends, they did pay me out! They paid me out in such a way that I lost my head altogether, and couldn’t tell where I was or what was happening. I didn’t even know whether I was alive or dead! I was just altogether——”
Here the narrator shrank down, let his arms hang helplessly, and began to speak in a kind of lifeless, almost abdominal voice.
“I could hardly move.... O Lord!... Holy Saints!... Holy Virgin!... I couldn’t even speak or breathe.... And I don’t remember whether I walked or whether they carried me.... I only know that I found myself in a dark place, and quite ill; all my bones ached, all my joints throbbed—I just lay and waited for death.”