Hereturned home in a calm frame of mind. He convinced himself that he was innocent in the matter of the dismissal of the workingmen—that is, as far as he was concerned they might be working for him now, as at first agreed, only Chyenke and her brood of relatives.... No, he was not to blame. Yet he felt a strong friendship for Chyenke such as he had not felt since the wedding.
“I sent your workingmen off,” greeted Chyenke, preparing the samovar. “It’s all over now!... You won’t put on any lordly airs round here any more!... HereafterI’lldo the hiring and the firing!”
“Thenyoudo the hiring,” he replied weakly. He was content that he should no longer have to haggle with the new hands, and that his conscience would be clear.
But he was careful not to betray his contentment.
“A fine statesman for you!” scoffed Chyenke with cutting sarcasm, looking into the chimney of the samovar.
He made no reply and got busy upon his work.
From his bench he cast frequent glances toward Chyenke, who was occupied with household duties. She was angry, and did not deign to look in his direction. So he, too, pretended not to look at her.
“She’s good looking, Chyenke is ... a beautiful woman,” he thought, stealing a glimpse at her. “A fine figure—and what a bust!”... It suddenly occurred to him that he had never thought of “such things”.... And try as he might, he could not explain to himself what had come over him. Something was drawing him to Chyenke. At that very moment he would gladly have cast his work aside and run over to her.... He could not imagine himself kissing her, but he would mostcertainly do it if he were to run over to her at that very moment. He was ashamed of the feeling, which made him arise from his place, and he began to look for something upon the table, then about the room, finally edging up to Chyenke.
“How about the samovar?” he asked, sullenly, although he had meant to say something far different and much more friendly.
“Touch it and see,” replied Chyenke ill-humouredly, wiping the tea-glasses.
“Touch it and see!” he mocked, good-naturedly, smiling and placing a hand against the samovar. He was at a loss for something nice to say,—something that would conciliate her.
“Whom are you thinking of giving the jobs to?”
“You’ll find out!”
She felt that he was trying to make up with her, and that it was nowhertime to take revenge for yesterday’s episode. She would have him at her feet yet!
“You’ll find out!” he mimicked again with asmile. But her attitude was beginning to anger him.
Really, why shouldn’t he fly into a fury, give her a terrible scolding, thump his fist on the table and show that he was the ruler of the house?
He clinched his teeth, assumed an angry countenance and returned to his work.
She, however, took no heed. She knew for certain that she held the upper hand; just let him try to start something and she’d give it to him so hot and heavy that he wouldn’t know where it came from!
He sat there, working away, and felt that he was not at all angry with Chyenke,—that he was merely making a cross face to frighten her into a more tender mood. He glanced at her furtively and knew that he loved her, that a little while later he would be holding her in his arms, on his lap, and would caress her, kiss her, squeeze her. And the thought brought such a tenderness, such a warmth to his heartthat he worked with renewed enthusiasm, stealing countless glances at Chyenke.
“Here’s your tea. Drink it!” she ordered, caustically.
He remained seated. This was to signify that he was angry and did not care to know her or her tea.
“Will you take it or not? If you don’t, I’ll spill your tea into the slop-pail!”
Leisurely he laid his work aside and arose with a smile. This was to signify that he was not at all angry, and that he had not intended to play with her and spite her, but that he had been exceedingly engrossed in his work and could not have abandoned it any sooner. He thrust his arms into the air, stretching himself, yawned and smiled.
“My! But you’re hot-tempered!” he laughed.
He really meant it. He wished her to forget her grievance, to be kind once again, to fondle him as before.
He approached the table and pinched her cheek.
She thrust his hand aside.
“Away from me!”
“Psh, psh, psh! What an angry lady!”... He sat down nearby and placed his arms about her waist.
“Better go away before I get angry!” she cried, tearing herself from his grasp.
He pressed her close to him, bent her head toward his and began to kiss her, stifling her outcries with his lips. She seized the glass of hot tea, but he snatched it away from her grasp. Only with the greatest effort did she tear herself free.
“I’ll break your head for you!” she screamed, jumping to her feet. He laughed with a passionate, repulsive laughter.
The shadow of his repulsive, passionate laughter still lay upon his lips when he went back to his work. He still felt the kisses upon his lips and felt, too, that he was sated and thathis heart was eased. He attacked his work with a happy will and knew that, in the end, to-morrow or the day after, Chyenke would be won over. He forgot the whole world.
Thatevening Chashke and her old mother came for a visit. They were curious to know the state of affairs in Drabkin’s household and how the matter had turned out.
“Ah, Chashke!” cried Drabkin with forced gaiety. He had not at all wished her to come. She brought back to him memories of the olden days, of things he no longer wished to recall. She made him feel, moreover, a keen sense of his present subjection. He was ashamed and remained working at his bench.
Chyenke, however, was glad to see them. She wanted to show them thatshewas the boss, and that he lay meekly at her feet. And let his former sweetheart see how he loved his wife, how he fawned upon her. And let Chashke burst with vexation and jealousy!
“Well, how are things with you?” inquired the old woman.
Chashke did not care to ask. Already she sensed everything and felt superfluous in Drabkin’s home.
“How should things be?” replied Chyenke, in a triumphant voice. “Not so bad. He’s changed his mind, my wise man, my know-it-all. Oho! Now, it seems he would like to....”
She did not say what he would like to do, but nodded her head in Drabkin’s direction with a glance and with an expression on her face that spoke far more plainly than words.
He did not raise his head and feigned deep absorption in his work. Chashke blushed for him. The room began to feel too narrow for her. She must run away, run away—she sat there as if on burning coals.
The old woman, on the other hand, was soon engrossed in chatter.
“I told him from the very first that you were as clever a woman as I knew, upon mysoul, and my Chashke told him, too, that it couldn’t be otherwise, and that he’d be foolish to attempt it.”
At these words Drabkin was strongly impelled to raise his head. Chashke herself had really said that it couldn’t be otherwise. But at once he recalled what else she had said, and again he felt ashamed and remained seated, his head closely applied to his task, dumb.
Chyenke began to tell how she had sent off the workingmen, and how Drabkin had disappeared from home early that same morning——“He simply didn’t have the heart to witness it.”
“And now,” she concluded, “I alone hire help and settle things asIsee fit.”
She looked triumphantly at Chashke. Drabkin said nothing.
“Come, mamma. Let’s be going home!” urged Chashke, rising.
“What’s your hurry?” asked Drabkin.
Chashke would have been delighted to spit square into his face. The old woman answeredthat their boarder would come and the door was locked.
They left.
Drabkin felt that Chashke had been there for the last time, and the thought was somewhat disquieting. But this unpleasantness was soon lost in the great contentment that overwhelmed him. He felt more free, more independent; a yoke fell from his neck; there would be no one before his eyes as a continual reminder of his former years and his former talk.
Gone forever,—gone—and forgotten.
Now he would really work,—work honestly. Here God was helping him to become a man among men,—then why shouldn’t he do it? And, naturally, he wouldn’t be like those dogs, his former employers. He would know that a workingman was a human being, too, and would treat his men altogether differently. They would be to him like his own people, like brothers. Chashke really was a fool.
“Did you see in what a rage your Chashkeleft?” asked Chyenke, interrupting his thoughts.
“Why are you always saying ‘your’ Chashke?” he queried, with a smile.
“I know. You still run to her house.”
“Pah! Better come and sit down here, right beside me. So!”
He slapped his knee and stretched his arms out to her.
Chashke’s heart was heavy. So heavy, indeed, that she would gladly have wept. Her throat contracted with sorrow. She walked rapidly, and her mother could scarcely keep pace with her.
“Just mark my word,” gasped the old woman, running after her daughter, “in a few years Drabkin will be rich,—worth several thousand roubles.Shehas a smart head on her shoulders. If you had only half her brains I wouldn’t have to worry about you! Oh! Oh! Ah!...”
It was the old mother’s disappointment thatspoke in her,—disappointment that nothing had come of the intimacy between Drabkin and her daughter.
“What do you want of me, mamma? Please don’t say any more,” entreated Chashke with a quivering voice, turning her pale countenance toward her mother.
The little old woman was frightened by the quivering voice and the pale countenance. Waving her hand, she shook her head.
“There! I mustn’t say a word!” she sighed.
She spoke no more that night.
Chashke felt as if she had just returned from a cemetery, where she had buried her dearest treasure.
Drabkin, Drabkin!... And he had beenherDrabkin!...
Ah, and up to that very day she had dreamed and imagined!
Oh, to weep, to weep——
That night she had a dream. No, not a dream, for she could not fall asleep, and laywith eyes wide open, staring into the impenetrable darkness.
She beheld how Drabkin was becoming a pot-bellied boss; all his thoughts were centred only upon how to enlarge his shop and fill his purse. Everything else was forgotten—every human impulse, every tinge of sympathy for the poor worker, every spark of compassion for the under-dog. Workingmen to him were hired slaves—and “Ephraim is supposed to work till nine o’clock at night and works till half-past ten; when he came to work this morning at half-past seven, they fell upon him like a mad dog....”
And in the silent darkness it seemed to her that Drabkin struck a cruel blow upon the face of a little child who was apprenticed to him.
A shudder ran through her whole body, and she began to weep hysterically.
A heart-breaking, bitter weeping——