"I know, I only said it to finish the sentence.And don't you ever deceive your mother except just this once, until I come back.And so, kiddies, can I go out? You won't be frightened and cry when I'm gone?""We sha-all cry," drawled Kostya, on the verge of tears already.
"We shall cry, we shall be sure to cry," Nastya chimed in with timid haste.
"Oh, children, children, how fraught with peril are your years!
There's no help for it, chickens; I shall have to stay with you Idon't know how long.And time is passing, time is passing, oogh!""Tell Perezvon to pretend to be dead!" Kostya begged.
"There's no help for it, we must have recourse to Perezvon.Ici, Perezvon." And Kolya began giving orders to the dog, who performed all his tricks.
He was a rough-haired dog, of medium size, with a coat of a sort of lilac-grey colour.He was blind in his right eye, and his left ear was torn.He whined and jumped, stood and walked on his hind legs, lay on his back with his paws in the air, rigid as though he were dead.While this last performance was going on, the door opened and Agafya, Madame Krassotkin's servant, a stout woman of forty, marked with small-pox, appeared in the doorway.She had come back from market and had a bag full of provisions in her hand.Holding up the bag of provisions in her left hand she stood still to watch the dog.Though Kolya had been so anxious for her return, he did not cut short the performance, and after keeping Perezvon dead for the usual time, at last he whistled to him.The dog jumped up and began bounding about in his joy at having done his duty.
"Only think, a dog!" Agafya observed sententiously.
"Why are you late, female?" asked Krassotkin sternly.
"Female, indeed! Go on with you, you brat.""Brat?"
"Yes, a brat.What is it to you if I'm late; if I'm late, you may be sure I have good reason," muttered Agafya, busying herself about the stove, without a trace of anger or displeasure in her voice.
She seemed quite pleased, in fact, to enjoy a skirmish with her merry young master.
"Listen, you frivolous young woman," Krassotkin began, getting up from the sofa, "can you swear by all you hold sacred in the world and something else besides, that you will watch vigilantly over the kids in my absence? I am going out.""And what am I going to swear for?" laughed Agafya."I shall look after them without that.""No, you must swear on your eternal salvation.Else I shan't go.""Well, don't then.What does it matter to me? It's cold out;stay at home."
"Kids," Kolya turned to the children, "this woman will stay with you till I come back or till your mother comes, for she ought to have been back long ago.She will give you some lunch, too.You'll give them something, Agafya, won't you?""That I can do."
"Good-bye, chickens, I go with my heart at rest.And you, granny,"he added gravely, in an undertone, as he passed Agafya, "I hope you'll spare their tender years and not tell them any of your old woman's nonsense about Katerina.Ici, Perezvon!""Get along with you!" retorted Agafya, really angry this time.
"Ridiculous boy! You want a whipping for saying such things, that's what you want!"Chapter 3
The SchoolboyBUT Kolya did not hear her.At last he could go out.As he went out at the gate he looked round him, shrugged up his shoulders, and saying "It is freezing," went straight along the street and turned off to the right towards the market-place.When he reached the last house but one before the market-place he stopped at the gate, pulled a whistle out of his pocket, and whistled with all his might as though giving a signal.He had not to wait more than a minute before a rosy-cheeked boy of about eleven, wearing a warm, neat and even stylish coat, darted out to meet him.This was Smurov, a boy in the preparatory class (two classes below Kolya Krassotkin), son of a well-to-do official.Apparently he was forbidden by his parents to associate with Krassotkin, who was well known to be a desperately naughty boy, so Smurov was obviously slipping out on the sly.He was- if the reader has not forgotten one of the group of boys who two months before had thrown stones at Ilusha.He was the one who told Alyosha about Ilusha.
"I've been waiting for you for the last hour, Krassotkin," said Smurov stolidly, and the boys strode towards the market-place.
"I am late," answered Krassotkin."I was detained by circumstances.You won't be thrashed for coming with me?""Come, I say, I'm never thrashed! And you've got Perezvon with you?""Yes."
"You're taking him, too?"
"Yes."
"Ah! if it were only Zhutchka!"
"That's impossible.Zhutchka's non-existent.Zhutchka is lost in the mists of obscurity.""Ah! couldn't we do this?" Smurov suddenly stood still."You see Ilusha says that Zhutchka was a shaggy, greyish, smoky-looking dog like Perezvon.Couldn't you tell him this is Zhutchka, and he might believe you?""Boy, shun a lie, that's one thing; even with a good object-that's another.Above all, I hope you've not told them anything about my coming.""Heaven forbid! I know what I am about.But you won't comfort him with Perezvon," said Smurov, with a sigh."You know his father, the captain, 'the wisp of tow,' told us that he was going to bring him a real mastiff pup, with a black nose, to-day.He thinks that would comfort Ilusha; but I doubt it.""And how is Ilusha?"
"Ah, he is bad, very bad! I believe he's in consumption: he is quite conscious, but his breathing! His breathing's gone wrong.The other day he asked to have his boots on to be led round the room.He tried to walk, but he couldn't stand.'Ah, I told you before, father,'
he said, 'that those boots were no good.I could never walk properly in them.' He fancied it was his boots that made him stagger, but it was simply weakness, really.He won't live another week.Herzenstube is looking after him.Now they are rich again- they've got heaps of money.
"They are rogues."
"Who are rogues?"
