It was just like that with me and my nose. I don't remember whether it
was at the fifth or sixth blow that the door opened, and Benny
"_Polkovoi_" came in. The boys freed me at once, and remained standing
like blocks of wood. Benny took them in hand, one by one. He caught each
boy by the ear, twisted it round, and said:
"Well, now you will know what it means to meddle with a widow's boy."
From that day the boys did not touch either me or my nose. They were
afraid to begin with the widow's boy whom Benny had taken under his
wing, into his guardianship, under his protection.
* * *
"The widow's boy"--- I had no other name at "_Cheder_." This was because
my mother was a widow. She supported herself by her own work. She had a
little shop in which were, for the most part, so far as I can remember,
chalk and locust-beans--the two things that sell best in Mazapevka.
Chalk is wanted for white-washing the houses, and locust-beans are a
luxury. They are sweet, and they are light in weight, and they are
cheap. Schoolboys spend on them all the money they get for breakfast
and dinner. And the shopkeepers make a good profit out of them. I could
never understand why my mother was always complaining that she could
hardly make enough to pay the rent and my school-fees. Why school-fees?
What about the other things a human being needs, food and clothes and
boots, for example? She thought of nothing but the school-fees. "When
the Lord punished me," she wailed, "and took my husband from me--and
such a husband!--and left me all alone, I want my son to be a scholar,
at any rate." What do you say to that? Do you think she did not come
frequently to the "_Cheder_" to find out how I was getting on? I say
nothing of the prayers she took good care I should recite every morning.
She was always lecturing me to be even half as good as my father--peace
be unto him! And whenever she looked at me, she said I was exactly like
him--may I have longer years than he! And her eyes grew moist. Her face
grew curiously careworn, and had a mournful expression.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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