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«Forgive me,» he murmured.
«What’s the matter with you?» cried Mitia. «These are friends,» and turning to his companions, he went on: «He’s afraid lest you should think ill of him because of his feet and arms. But why should you? What’s the use? Who knows if we are better than he? Well, my pigeon, take us home!» And he put his arm round Misha’s neck in his most caressing ma
The hut they were taken to was large and well lit. The window curtains were of cheap stuff but of pleasant colour and gracefully complicated design. On the walls were rough, highly tinted reproductions of the Battle of Plevna, the last Judgment and the Princes of Bova. All was neat and simple until a visitor came in sight of en object as out of place and unexpected in such surroundings as a peacock’s tail on an ox, or a dog sitting on a tree top. On a large table in a comer stood a complete chemical laboratory!..
On the table was also a spirit lamp such as is used to heat coffee and over it a number of tiny phials in which an evil looking mixture was being concocted. Among a number of crystals, lay aimlessly, half a herring.
«This must be the last survivor of the Ancient Order of Alchemists,» thought Mesentzeff, «searching I presume for the philosopher’s stone.»
Very respectfully, Mitia went to the table.
«Is it boiling?» he inquired, touching a crucible. «Doesn’t it burst sometimes?»
«Why should it burst?» growled Misha.
«When will it be finished?»
«In another two years perhaps.»
«But you tried before? How often does this make?»
«The third time.»
«So it will have taken, six years altogether.»
«Why only six? Why not sixteen? The task is very difficult.»
«Well, well no doubt it’ll succeed some day and then the whole machine begins working. Go on! We won’t stop you. We’re only staying the night and tomorrow morning will bid you ‘good bye!’ Where do the girls meet hereabouts at night?» he concluded unexpectedly.
«What girls? Why should they meet? They must work and sleep: that’s all... But they meet on the bridge, suppose: where else?»
«And which way is the bridge?»
«To the left.»
«Well, let’s be off, children, or we shall be interfering with our brother here. We’ve walked all day and I must dance.»
Mesentzeff would have liked to remain and talk quietly to the alchemist. But realizing that Mitia would never allow it, he followed the others, determined to escape later u
«Forgive me!...»
The words came in low tones and Mesentzeff turned to find Misha close behind him. The peasant looked like a wild beast that had been only recently trapped; awkward, half-cowering and hunch backed, with tufts of rough hair on a still youthful face. Mesentzeff thought of the laboratory and of his own strong desire to fathom the mystery. He glanced about him.
Mitia was dancing ecstatically, his eyes closed like those of a nightingale entranced by its own song. From him there was nothing to fear at present. As to Vania, he was watching the dancer, on his face a smile of perfect beatitude.
Mesentzeff and Misha slipped away. Through back gardens where nettles stung them and their feet splashed in filth, they reached Misha’s hut. Inside, Misha, having barred the door, stood humbly beside his guest, awaiting his pleasure.
From the peasant’s ma
«What are you concocting over there?» he asked, pointing to the laboratory.
Misha did not reply.
«The philosopher’s stone?»
«Eh?»
«The philosopher’s stone that turns iron to gold.»
Misha shuddered. «Heaven help me! How could I? If I tried a thing like that, I should be rotting in Siberia... Are such things possible?» He stopped indignantly and Mesentzeff realized his mistake.
«Listen, Misha», he said more gently. «I am not an enemy. Be frank with me. I hardly know Mitia. His affairs are no business of mine and to tell you the truth they don’t please me.»
«They please only the devil,» wailed Misha.
«I know some work, some task has been set you, but I don’t know what it is. Tell me. I might be of use to you.»
Misha looked pained and embarrassed. He was trembling all over.
His lips and eyebrows, even his ears twitched; or so it appeared to Mesentzeff... «Be kind to me!» he implored in an almost feminine tone of appeal. «I see you are a gentleman, neither a peasant nor a Christian. If I had been only educated at the elementary school or university, I should be someone. Ever since I was a child, I have known how to count. Before I could walk, I could do figures. We had seventy-three men in our village and I wanted to know how many there would be in seventy-three villages. God is witness that I succeeded in finding out! My mother beat me, but never cured me of the habit. When I learned to read, it got worse. I used to calculate the number of people now on the earth and the number there were in the time of Jesus Christ. I began the elementary school, but never finished it. I wasn’t able to do other work, and my mother needed me at home. She was just getting me a wife when the terrible thing happened. A man game to our house to spend the night. He looked like a pilgrim, but he was not a pilgrim. He was a scoundrel! He admired my gift for figures and one morning persuaded me to go away with him, God knows where. He had lots of money! We went in a two horse carriage... I have never travelled that way before or since. We took trains and boats and came at last to a village in the mountains, a very rich village, full of new houses and big pink faced women. I was taken to the chief, a little white old man. I nearly fainted with fear when I saw him. Every man is sometimes sad and every man is sometimes angry, but one could see that this man was never angry, never sad. Looking at his joyful, quiet face gave me the shivers down my back and yet I don’t know why I was frightened. He heard me make some calculations and nodded his head to show he was satisfied. «You will be the greatest of us all», he said, «when you have accomplished the task. You will live in the richest house and have a wife of your own choice. Then you will rest till the time comes for the second task and after that live happily amongst us for ever.» But he was wrong. I could never live with him, I am a serious minded man and during all the three weeks I was in that place, the people danced and sang as if it were the devil’s masquerade! It was there I first met Mitia. He isn’t clever enough to be given a special task, but he goes from place to place through Mother Russia watching the workers and engaging new ones. Be careful of him my good Sir! He is a dangerous man and his knife is sharp as a razor...»
«But what work did they give you?» asked Mesentzeff impatiently.
Misha was almost in tears. «They put me to chemistry. It requires a head for figures. Have you heard of a certain Lavoisier? He is a science man from France and has proved that nothing is lost in nature, not a single grain of dust. If you burn a match, it becomes ash and smoke, but if you collect the ash and smoke and know how to put them together again scientifically, you can remake the match all complete as it was before. That’s ingenious, isn’t it? I have tried the experiment here and it came out quite correct. «Well,» they said, «you know the formula. You know how to remake the match. Prove it ca