The house of the dead : $b or, Prison life in SiberiaDostoyevsky, Fyodor
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The house of the dead : $b or, Prison life in Siberia
Dostoyevsky, Fyodor
Exiles -- Fiction; Siberia (Russia) -- Fiction
“‘Because you would be severely punished.’
“May the devil take that idiot of a German! If he had not urged me on,
he would have been alive now.
“‘So you think I dare not?’
“‘No.’
“‘I dare not, you think?’
“‘You would not dare!’
“‘Wouldn’t I, sausage-maker?’ I fired the pistol, and down he sank on
his chair. The others uttered shrieks. I put back my pistol in my
pocket, and when I returned to the fortress, threw it among some weeds
near the principal entrance.
“Inside the barracks I laid on my bed, and said to myself, ‘I shall be
taken away soon.’ One hour passed, then another, but I was not arrested.
“Towards evening I felt so sad, I went out at all hazards to see Luisa;
I passed before the house of the clockmaker’s. There were a number of
people there, including the police. I ran on to the old woman’s and
said:
“‘Call Luisa!’
“I had only a moment to wait. She came immediately, and threw herself on
my neck in tears.
“‘It is my fault,’ she said. ‘I should not have listened to my aunt.’
“She then told me that her aunt, immediately after the scene, had gone
back home. She was in such a fright that she fell and did not speak a
word; she had uttered nothing. On the contrary, she ordered her niece
to be as silent as herself.
“‘No one has seen her since,’ said Luisa.
“The clockmaker had previously sent his servant away, for he was afraid
of her. She was jealous, and would have scratched his eyes out had she
known that he wished to get married.
“There were no workmen in the house, he had sent them all away; he had
himself prepared the coffee and collation. As for the relation, who had
scarcely spoken a word all his life, he took his hat, and, without
opening his mouth, went away.
“‘He is quite sure to be silent,’ added Luisa.
“So, indeed, he was. For two weeks no one arrested me nor suspected me
the least in the world.
“You need not believe me unless you choose, Alexander Petrovitch.
“These two weeks were the happiest in my life. I saw Luisa every day.
And how much she had become attached to me!
“She said to me through her tears: ‘If you are exiled, I will go with
you. I will leave everything to follow you.’
“I thought of making away with myself, so much had she moved me; but
after two weeks I was arrested. The old man and the aunt had agreed to
denounce me.”
“But,” I interrupted, “Baklouchin, for that they would only have given
you from ten to twelve years’ hard labour, and in the civil section; yet
you are in the special section. How does that happen?”
“That is another affair,” said Baklouchin. “When I was taken before the
Council of War, the captain appointed to conduct the case began by
insulting me, and calling me names before the Tribunal. I could not
stand it, and shouted out to him: ‘Why do you insult me? Don’t you see,
you scoundrel! that you are only looking at yourself in the glass?’
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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