第22章

“Dogsrun-“

“Dogs？Now，enough，littlefellow。“

“Dogsrunlikechickens。Theyrunhere，intheravine，“

continuedNilushkainthemurmuringaccentsofachildofthree。

“Nevertheless，“musedVologonov，“eventhatseemingnothingofhismaymeansomething。Yes，theremaylieinitagreatdeal。

Now，say:’Perditionwillarisebeforehimwhoshallhasten。’“

“No，IwanttoSINGsomething。“

WithasplutterVologonovsaid:

“Trulyyouareadifficultsubjecttodealwith！“

Andwiththathefelltopacingthefloorwithlong，thoughtfulstridesastheidiot’svoicecriedinquaveringaccents:

“OLo-ord，haveme-ercyuponus！“

ThusthewinsomeNilushkaprovedindispensabletothefoul，mean，unhealthylifeofthesuburb。Ofthatlifehecolouredandroundedoffthesenselessness，theugliness，thesuperfluity。Heresembledanapplehangingforgottenonagnarledoldworm-eatentree，whenceallthefruitandtheleaveshavefallenuntilonlythebrancheswaveintheautumnwind。Rather，heresembledasole-survivingpictureinthepagesofaragged，soiledoldbookwhichhasneitherabeginningnoranending，andthereforecannolongerberead，isnolongerworththereading，sincenowitspagescontainnothingintelligible。

Andassmilinghisgracioussmile，thelad’spathetic，legendaryfigureflittedpastthemouldybutsandcrackedfencesandriotousbedsofnettles，therewouldreadilyrecurtothememory，andsucceedoneanother，visionsofsomeofthefinerandmorereputablepersonagesofRussianlore——therewouldfilebeforeone’smentalvision，inendlesssequence，menwhosebiographiesinformushow，infearfortheirsouls，theyleftthelifeoftheworld，and，hieingthemtotheforestsandthecaves，abandonedmankindforthewildthingsofnature。Andatthesametimewouldthererecurtoone’smemorypoemsconcerningtheblindandthepoor-inparticular，thepoemconcerningAlexeitheManofGod，andallthemultitudeofotherfair，butunsubstantial，formswhereinRussiahasembodiedhersadandterrifiedsoul，herhumbleandprotestinggrief。Yetitwasaprocesstodepressonealmosttothepointofdistraction。

Once，forgettingthatNilushkawasimbecile，Iconceivedanirrepressibledesiretotalkwithhim，andtoreadhimgoodpoetry，andtotellhimbothoftheworld’syouthfulhopesandofmyownpersonalthoughts。

Theoccasionhappenedonadaywhen，asIwassittingontheedgeoftheravine，anddanglingmylegsovertheravine’sdepths，theladcamefloatingtowardsmeasthoughonair。Inhishands，withtheirfingersasslenderasagirl’s，hewasholdingalargeleaf；andashegazedatitthesmileofhisclearblueeyeswas，asitwere，pervadinghimfromheadtofoot。

“Whither，Nilushka？“saidI。

Withastartheraisedhisheadandeyesheavenward。Thentimidlyheglancedattheblueshadowoftheravine，andextendedtomehisleaf，overtheveinsofwhichtherewascrawlingaladybird。

“Abukan，“heo

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