White nights, and other storiesDostoyevsky, Fyodor
General
White nights, and other stories
Dostoyevsky, Fyodor
Dostoyevsky, Fyodor, 1821-1881 -- Translations into English; Russian fiction -- Translations into English
"'My benefactor! You are a father to me!' said I. And I shed floods of
hot tears. Lord, have mercy on us, what a to-do there was! He cried, his
good lady cried, Mashenka cried ... there was a flaxen-headed creature
there, she cried too.... That wasn't enough: the younger children crept
out of all the corners (the Lord had filled their quiver full) and they
howled too.... Such tears, such emotion, such joy! They found their
prodigal, it was like a soldier's return to his home. Then followed
refreshments, we played forfeits, and 'I have a pain'--'Where is
it?'--'In my heart'--'Who gave it you?' My charmer blushed. The old man
and I had some punch--they won me over and did for me completely.
"I returned to my grandmother with my head in a whirl. I was laughing
all the way home; for full two hours I paced up and down our little
room. I waked up my old granny and told her of my happiness.
"'But did he give you any money, the brigand?'
"'He did, granny, he did, my dear--luck has come to us all of a heap:
we've only to open our hand and take it.'
"I waked up Sofron.
"'Sofron,' I said, 'take off my boots.'
"Sofron pulled off my boots.
"'Come, Sofron, congratulate me now, give me a kiss! I am going to get
married, my lad, I am going to get married. You can get jolly drunk
to-morrow, you can have a spree, my dear soul--your master is getting
married.'
"My heart was full of jokes and laughter. I was beginning to drop off to
sleep, but something made me get up again. I sat in thought: to-morrow
is the first of April, a bright and playful day--what should I do? And I
thought of something. Why, gentlemen, I got out of bed, lighted a
candle, and sat down to the writing-table just as I was. I was in a
fever of excitement, quite carried away--you know, gentlemen, what it is
when a man is quite carried away? I wallowed joyfully in the mud, my
dear friends. You see what I am like; they take something from you, and
you give them something else as well and say, 'Take that, too.' They
strike you on the cheek and in your joy you offer them your whole back.
Then they try to lure you like a dog with a bun, and you embrace them
with your foolish paws and fall to kissing them with all your heart and
soul. Why, see what I am doing now, gentlemen! You are laughing and
whispering--I see it! After I have told you all my story you will begin
to turn me into ridicule, you will begin to attack me, but yet I go on
talking and talking and talking! And who tells me to? Who drives me to
do it? Who is standing behind my back whispering to me, 'Speak, speak
and tell them'? And yet I do talk, I go on telling you, I try to please
you as though you were my brothers, all my dearest friends.... Ech!"
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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