It was market-day, so the city had taken on the typical complexion of
gatherings of that sort. There was nothing unconsidered there; no
movement, no word seemed to be wasted. The merchant was going to his
traffic, the official to his office, the criminal to deceit,--all were
hastening on with some well-defined object; all pushed life forward,
thinking of the morrow, hastening toward something. Above that uproar
and movement was a burning atmosphere, and the sun was reflected in the
gleaming panes of great edifices with just the same intensity as in any
little cottage window.
"This uproar is life," thought Shvarts, who had never been in Kieff
before, or in any large city.
And he was thinking how immensely distant was life in a little town from
the broad scene of activity in a great city, when a well-known voice
roused him from that meditation.
"Yosef, as God lives!"
Shvarts looked around, gazed some seconds at the man who called him by
name; at last he opened his arms widely, and exclaimed,--
"As God lives, it is Gustav!"
Gustav was a man small and thin, about twenty-three years of age; long
hair of a chestnut color fell almost to his shoulders; his short reddish
mustache cut even with his lip made him seem older than he was in
reality.
"What art thou doing, Yosef? Why hast thou come? To the University, hast
thou not?"
"Yes."
"Well done. Life is wretched for the man without knowledge," said
Gustav, as he panted. "What course wilt thou choose?"
"I cannot tell yet; I will see and decide."
"Think over it carefully. I have been here a year now, and have had a
chance to look at things coolly. I regret much a choice made too
hastily, but what is one to do afterward? Too late to turn back, to go
on there is lack of power. It is easier to commit a folly than correct
it. To-morrow I will go with thee to the University; meanwhile, if thou
hast no lodgings, let the Jew take thy things to my room, it is not far
from here. Thou mayst begin with me; when thou art tired of me, look for
another man."
Yosef accepted Gustav's offer, and in a few moments they were in the
narrow lodgings of the student.
"Ei, it is long since we have seen each other. We finished our school
course a year ago," said Gustav, putting aside Yosef's small trunk and
bundle. "A year is some time. What hast thou done this whole year?"
"I have been with my father, who would not let me come to the
University."
"What harm could that be to him?"
"He was a good man, though ignorant--a blacksmith."
"But he has let thee come now?"
"He died."
"He did well," said Gustav, coughing. "The cursed asthma is tormenting
me these six months. Dost wonder at my hard breathing? Thou too wilt
breathe hard when thou hast bent over books as I have. Day after day
without rest for a moment. And fight with poverty as one dog with
another.--Hast money?"
"I have. I sold the house and property left by my father. I have two
thousand rubles."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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