IX + 

From the moment of SeryozhaтАЩs departure from Chi-tao-kou, AnnaтАЩs world seemed filled with an entirely new air. One would have said that Seryozha must have filled the house as completely as a snail fills its shellтБатАФso convoluted, so entire was the emptiness he left, from floor to ceiling, from wall to wall. Out of doors, looking through AnnaтАЩs eyes, one would have guessed her son a bright obscuring lightтБатАФso bleakly new and hard and shadowless was every leaf, every hill, every silly angle of the street, lacking even the possibility of his presence. It was a world lit, as it were, by indirect lighting under low clouds, instead of by the honest bland sun. + 

AnnaтАЩs son, ever since his birth, had always been within a few miles of her, and now those few miles, empty of himтБатАФa cube of featureless summer airтБатАФboxed her in, a prisoner. She could not spontaneously imagine his return. With a mental effort she could invent elaborate scenes of his homecoming, but she knew them to be artificial, knew them to be constructed with ingenuity rather than with faith and hope. Such scenes were always shattered by her conviction of premonition. тАЬAbsurd!тБатАКтБатАж He will never come back.тБатАКтБатАжтАЭ Every inch of the earth is, after all, so dangerous. Here, where we stand, a minute or a million years ago, some heart failed. There, at that point to which our dear love is hurrying, the lightning struck, the germ of plague was born, the tree will fall, the flood will surge, the murderer will stabтБатАФa minute or a million years henceтБатАФa minute or a million years ago. Living is a matter of missing death by a hairтАЩs-breadth or an aeonтБатАФit doesnтАЩt matter whichтБатАФand dying is a matter of coincidence. If we knew the past and the future of every yard of every path we tread, or of every stone our dear loveтАЩs foot turns over as he goes, where should we turn for peace? Once we have realized the billions of deaths and horrors that have been, the billions that will be, every inch of the world seems soaked in blood. Every inch of the world, it seemed to Anna, was haunted by the ghost of a son whose mother had let him go. тАЬEven at this very second, perhaps, his foot is lifted for his last stride.тАЭ + 

тАЬWhy should you be so pessimistic, Annitchka?тАЭ asked Old Sergei, who had rather relaxed his attitudes during this period of acute domestic discomfort, and lived now in an emotional deshabille, content to be seen as Old Sergei Malinin at last. тАЬHundreds of young men have made the very journey that he is making and have come back safely. Indeed, our Seryozha is doubly safe, since he has a reliable man with him.тАЭ He spoke to reassure himself as well as his wife, since her chronic conviction of a fatal presentiment affected him, too. He kept secretly in his pocket a knotted string, making a new knot for every day that brought no news of his son, in order that he might not have to irritate his wife by asking her to verify his calculations by the calendar. Apart from this tiny effort of ingenuity, Old Sergei had become, in a few days, very much more helpless than ever before. The necessity for posing as a father being now past, he had shrunk and withered into immobility, as flowers, dry and forgotten in the empty vase, hardly respond, except by an unlovely rattle, to the moving air that used to swing their bright heads. Old Sergei expressed by his wistful avoidance of authority his craving to be at last old, to be nursed, to be pitied, to have nothing more expected of him. + 

тАЬAh, why did you send him away?тАЭ said Anna, turning on the old man. тАЬHe was our lifeтБатАФour crutch; weтАЩre nothing but a couple of old bags of bones without him. You know what a dangerous, lawless country this is for a Russian, yet you were so greedy to add money to money.тБатАКтБатАж Why, moneyтАЩs dirt compared with the safety of our Seryozha. The money we had was enough; we lived very well; we were happy enough.тАЭ + 

тАЬDonтАЩt worry yourself so, Annitchka. ItтАЩs folly to worry soтБатАФbesides, it worries me. The boyтАЩs not gone far; heтАЩll be back again in no time; we shall see him one of these days coming in at that door as usualтБатАФor rather, youтАЩll see him, since I am so afflicted.тАЭ + 

тАЬI shall never see him again,тАЭ said Anna, looking at the door, trying to force her imagination to reconstruct the prow of his long shadow, coming in at the door, like a ship into harbor. + 

тАЬOh, very well, then, worryтБатАФworry. You take pleasure in worrying both yourself and me. Cry yourself sick if you like.тАЭ + 

But Anna was not crying. She never cried. Her eyebrows were hitched up, her forehead strained into wrinkles, there was a little taut pain in the top of her head; these things, with her, took the place of tears. Sometimes she could almost have prayed to her muscles. Let go! Let go! Let go! Her eyes, her brow, and the little sore tiptoe yawning feeling inside the top of her skull seemed to be caught, hooked, seemed to have forgotten how to relax. + 

Poor Old Sergei was certainly a most uncomfortable old man at that time. His wife could hardly bear him, and yet she was not so cruel to him as she would have liked to be. Kindness was, as it were, at each extremity of her behavior to him; the core of her feeling was kindness and she tossed an exasperated kindness from her finger tips. This surface kindness made her buy him things he liked to eat and serve them with muffled curses, which, being misheard by him, she would change to words of half-ironic gentleness. But between the core and the surface of her mood there was a dark, tortuous area of weariness and hatred of his plaintiveness, his meanness, the contradiction of life that he was. In this intervening confusion of her nature she suffered a sort of contrariness, a doubling back, that made her challenge herself unconsciously to be cruelтБатАФto try him a little moreтБатАФa little moreтБатАФa little more (will he stand it?)тБатАФa little more still (almost like a murderess daring herself to press a trigger)тБатАФtill he would suddenly feel the prick of her insult, and lose his temper and his dignity. Then she would feel acutely guilty, talk to him gently with elaborate harmlessness, answer his meandering talk for a little while, until the obscurely revengeful impulse came back to hurt him againтБатАФa littleтБатАФa little moreтБатАФa little more still.тБатАКтБатАж + 

She would wrench his rheumatic fingers with a half-deliberate pinch as she guided his hand to his food, and then, when he cried out, impulsively and genuinely beg his pardon, pretending, even to herself, that it had been a clumsy accident. She would sit and look at him, grinding her teeth because he was not his son, and all the time make wounding or humiliating retorts to his plaintive prattle. He was not very acute and did not often perceive that he was being worse treated than usual; he only thought that Anna seemed clumsier and stupider than usual, more misunderstanding in her talk and more abrupt in her movements. And, seeing his obtuseness, that strange contrary cruelty in the soft Anna would gloat over its opportunityтБатАФthe tormenting of a creature too silly to recognize the instrument of tormentтБатАФтАЬhow safeтБатАКтБатАж no one will ever know of thisтБатАКтБатАж no one but meтБатАКтБатАжтАЭ Then, in the night, she would suddenly wake up, frozen with self-disgust, beat her head with her palm, and throw herself upon her husband, crying: тАЬMy darling, IтАЩm sorry, IтАЩm sorry! Forgive me. What a beast I am!тАЭ To Old Sergei these violent night-scenes of remorse were much more disturbing than the subtle discomfort of his days. + 

In order partly to be away as much as possible from her lonely house, and partly to save her old husband from herself, Anna pretended that she had a lot of work to do for Mrs.┬аButters during the first week of SeryozhaтАЩs absence. Really the preparations for the Butters baby were finished now, and Anna was only needed at the mission once a week to help with the darning and mending. Yet every morning, after breakfast, she would murmur a vague word or two about Mrs.┬аButtersтАЩs sewing and disappear, leaving bread, cheese, and beer ready on the table for her husbandтАЩs noon meal. Old Sergei would sit drooping alone all day in the street doorway. He had charge of the sale of a few packages of cheap Russian and Japanese cigarettes, matches, sweets, biscuits, bottles of lemonade and clay pipes that were arranged on a couple of trestles outside the living-room doorтБатАФthe last rigor mortis of his dead shop. But only two or three customers a day spent a few sen on his goods and all day he would sit, half in and half out of his door, listening to the shouts of Korean and Chinese children playing, listening to the thin whine of the Japanese photographer next door singing over his work, listening to the clop-ker-clop of the senseless facetious gamboling of the mission kid in the yard behind the house, listening to the unfailing accompaniment of wails, cries, and squeals of thwarted and hurt animals that is always in the background of the hearing in every Chinese town. Sometimes the lonely old man would spend hours trying to lure within reach a dog that he could hear panting and snuffling and snapping at flies and ticks across the street. With a bait of crusts or show of imaginary food, he would patiently fish for the animal, only for the pleasure of touching its rough neck and shoulders when at last it trusted him enough to approach himтБатАФtouching its mangy ribs, its furtive tail, feeling the drip of sweat from its hanging tongue, assuring himself morbidly of the presence of another prisoner like himself, another life within another lean, sad, and elusive body. + 

The first day of SeryozhaтАЩs absence, AnnaтАЩs only impulse in leaving her home was to walk a little way along the path that he had trodden. Perhaps she might see the print of his big shoes or find something that he had droppedтБатАФthe stub of a cigarette or the paper that had wrapped pirozhki. Perhaps she might learn something about him from a Korean peasant or Chinese peddler who had seen him passing by. At any rate, she could see things that he had seenтБатАФnotice the patched crops upon the hills, the sharp rocks that slit with a short gash of foam the smooth-running surface of the river, the thin shade under which he had perhaps rested, the bloomy dazzle of reeds in the shallows, the fantastic duplication of cragsтБатАФreared in groups, as nearly alike as the chimneys of one houseтБатАФhalfway round the horizon, the farm dogs that must have barked at him, that great scrawny sow, dragging her unbeautiful dugs through the dust, that must have made him laugh yesterday. Probably he remembered, when he saw that, that his mother had once said that the fat pink mission school on the hill, flanked at right angles by a neat row of little pink mission houses, looked like a sow suckling its young. She felt for a moment as if she were actually sharing a laugh with her Seryozha, and she stood staring hungrily at the sow until the poor beast looked almost embarrassed. + 

Then she noticed, sitting on a stone near the river, that young Russian who had lately walked up from SeoulтБатАФAlexander Petrovitch Weber. This young man, a plain, sad, gawky creature enough, radiated beauty in AnnaтАЩs eyes, because she knew that he and Seryozha had met. Seryozha had even brought him to the house the day before yesterday when she had been busy over the washing. Seryozha had, she believed, liked him, and this boy had doubtless been delighted by Seryozha. It seemed as if some scrap of SeryozhaтАЩs darling personality had been grafted upon this young man. + 

She therefore walked towards him, feeling fat and humble and ungainly, as she had felt ever since she had lost sight of Seryozha. She must be tentative and a little self-conscious with everyone now, since there was no one in Chi-tao-kou to justify her existenceтБатАФno son before whom she could feel, тАЬWell, I maynтАЩt be beautiful, but this splendid creature calls me Mother.тАЭ She approached Alexander Weber, conscious of her waddle and of her splay shoes, one of which was slit over one toe to accommodate a corn. + 

Alexander Weber was very tall and lanky, black-haired and sallow, with a big nose, abrupt cheekbones and generally prominent featuresтБатАФamong which an assertive AdamтАЩs apple seemed to hold its own, almost as though it were a second attempt at a chin. He had a very gentle look in his dark eyesтБатАФa look which he withdrew from the river and focused, as though with difficulty, on the approaching Anna. тАЬMy sonтБатАФSergei Sergeievitch Malinin, you knowтБатАФstarted for Seoul yesterday.тАЭ + 

тАЬI know,тАЭ said Alexander, rising politely, though indifferently, from his boulder. тАЬI thought of going with him.тАЭ + 

тАЬGoing with him? Why, you have only just come from there, surely!тАЭ said Anna. + 

тАЬYes,тАЭ said the young man, dreamily. + 

тАЬHe hasnтАЩt anything like the spirit, the vitality, of my Seryozha,тАЭ thought Anna, gladly. She added, aloud, тАЬHad you hoped to find work in Chi-tao-kou. IтАЩm afraid there is little for Russians to do here, especially for a young man like you, that would be worth while. Is that why you thought of leaving so soon? Or are you not well lodged?тАЭ + 

тАЬI am on my way up to Harbin,тАЭ he said. тАЬThere is always a chance of a job on the railway there. Oh yes, I am well enough lodged. I am with Nikitin, the droshky man. He even let me earn something yesterday, driving an American missionary to Erh-tao-kou in a droshky.тАЭ + 

тАЬOn your way to Harbin?тАЭ exclaimed Anna. тАЬWhy, you have just said you considered going back to Seoul.тАЭ + 

тАЬYes,тАЭ said Alexander, straying into his dream again. тАЬI am not really sure what I want to do.тАЭ + 

тАЬPerhaps you have left someone you are fond of in Seoul, and are worrying about her,тАЭ suggested Anna, gently. тАЬYour mother, perhaps.тАЭ A mother, it seemed to her at the moment, was the only thing that a young man could reasonably worry about. + 

тАЬYes, I have left my mother,тАЭ answered Alexander, patiently. тАЬBut she has other sons. I have left my betrothed, too. Or rather, she was my betrothed; she is not so now. She is a dreadful creature.тАЭ + 

тАЬA dreadful creature?тАЭ exclaimed Anna, surprised. + 

тАЬYes, dreadful. Would you believe it, Anna Semionovna?тБатАФsheтБатАФshe forgets in a minuteтБатАФeven while you are speakingтБатАФwhat you are speaking about. She will sayтБатАФтАШOne moment, Sasha, I must just take this basket to my mother,тАЩ and one waitsтБатАФwaitsтБатАФwaitsтБатАФhalf an hourтБатАФan hourтБатАФand at last one goes to find out what has happened. There she is, whistling, shelling peas in her motherтАЩs kitchen. тАШBut, Tanya,тАЩ you sayтБатАФand then you see that she has forgotten. Forgotten that I was waitingтБатАФthat I was in the middle of telling her somethingтБатАФIтБатАФher betrothed! Sometimes, too, when I meet her unexpectedly, I can see that, for a moment, she doesnтАЩt know who I amтБатАКтБатАж even the face of her betrothed she has forgotten. It is not to be borne.тАЭ + 

тАЬHow extraordinary!тАЭ exclaimed Anna. тАЬWhat a heartless woman.тАЭ + 

тАЬHeartless! Heartless, you say! She is as heartless as death. She is not alive. Sometimes I think she really hates anything that is alive. And it is not as if she were really very irresistible. She canтАЩt afford this behaviorтБатАФif she doesnтАЩt look out sheтАЩll never get a husband.тАЭ + 

тАЬPerhaps that would be as well,тАЭ said Anna. тАЬSince she couldnтАЩt make a man happy.тАЭ + 

тАЬHappy! Happy, you say! She is death to any man that loves her. Seven men have loved herтБатАФand where are they now? She has a pretty face, certainly, but anyone who loves her loves death. One may walk side by side with her and feel that a river runs between her and oneselfтБатАФlike remembering someone who is dead. She has red hair and very thin hands. Once I took hold of her handтБатАФcaressingly, as a man does take the hand of his girlтБатАФand when she tried to snatch it away, I held itтБатАФin fun, you knowтБатАФsurely a man may do that.тБатАКтБатАж Anna Semionovna, she bit meтБатАФreally deeplyтБатАФin the wrist. I was quite revolted. I walked away. After half an hour she ran after me. She holds her head like thisтБатАКтБатАж and her hair comes unpinned when she runs. She runs very lightly. When I heard her coming, I thought: тАШWell, at least something is gained. She can be near enough to a man to be angry with himтБатАФand then to come and beg his pardon.тАЩ And so she did beg my pardonтБатАФbut what do you think? In begging my pardon she shook hands, lightly and politely, as one would shake a strangerтАЩs handтБатАКтБатАж then she drew her hand away, and seemed to imagine that no hurt remained.тБатАКтБатАжтАЭ + 

тАЬWell, you are well rid of her,тАЭ said Anna. + 

тАЬYes, indeed,тАЭ replied Alexander, instantly far away again, fixing his gentle, black, shortsighted gaze across the river. + 

There was a pause. + 

тАЬOf course a moment of passion like that is not live passion, as it would be in a live woman. IтАЩm sure it is not a sign of life. No man has ever seen a sign of life in her, though seven men have loved herтБатАФpoor devils. Her hair is a bright dark red; that is supposed to be a passionate color for a womanтАЩs hairтБатАФbut like the rest of her beauty, it lies. She is always polite. She can whistle to bring tears into your eyesтБатАФso softтБатАФso strongтБатАФthough of course whistling is not a suitable gift for a woman. But sheтАЩs not a womanтБатАФthatтАЩs why sheтАЩs death to a man. I say, тАШWhistle for me, Tanya,тАЩ and she whistlesтБатАФfor she is most polite and kind in doing whatever little thing you ask of herтБатАФbut it is not for me she whistles; she whistles for the skyтБатАФfor something far away. Such a girl, who can do nothing but whistle, and talk about cold fancies, and shake hands, and bite a man who has a right to caress herтБатАФwell, her beauty is wasted, isnтАЩt it, Anna Semionovna? If you can call it beauty; I am not even sure that one could call her beautiful.тАЭ + 

тАЬShe is not worth another thought,тАЭ said Anna. + 

тАЬNo, indeed,тАЭ said Alexander, looking at her with wet eyes and a guilty half smile. тАЬIt is a joy to be away from her, and to be with full-blooded men and women, after knowing such a dangerous ghost of a girl.тАЭ + 

Anna had for several minutes been bored with the subject of Tanya. тАЬWhat a pity that my son left Chi-tao-kou just as you arrived. He could perhaps have found you work in the timber-yard. There are so few young fellows of his own age in this region for him to have as friends. Though you are a little older. Still, you would have liked him, I am sure, if you had known him better.тАЭ + 

тАЬYes, it is a pity. It is a terrible pity that I did not think of going down to Seoul with him. I wish I had. I wonder if he will go by Mi-san.тАЭ + 

тАЬI never heard of Mi-san,тАЭ said Anna. тАЬIs it one of the towns on his way to Seoul?тАЭ + 

тАЬAlmost on his way. Not more than, say, twelve hours out of his way if he goes on foot. If he goes by train, it is about three hoursтАЩ walk from the railway.тАЭ + 

тАЬWell, why should he go there? Is the place of any special interest?тАЭ + 

Alexander, feeling that perhaps he had mentioned Tanya two or three times too many, and might have led this old woman to suppose that he was romantically interested in the hated girl, assumed an odd, secretive manner. тАЬI do not think Mi-san is in the least interesting,тАЭ he said. тАЬTo be sure, there are some mounds whichтБатАФwell, a Russian horse-dealer whose name I do not care to mentionтБатАФa man who lives thereтБатАФsays are prehistoric and must contain relics of the past. But what live man cares for such dead things? Then there is a magic well which the Koreans say cures a thousand and one illsтБатАФbut I think every sick man who drinks there must be suffering from the thousand and second illтБатАФfor I have never heard of a cure. What is more, Mi-san is a downright ugly village; one large tree, to be sureтБатАФbut trees are commoner in Korea than here in Manchuria. The houses there are common-looking, the street filthy and dusty. A particularly unattractive village indeed.тАЭ + 

тАЬThen I am sure Seryozha will not go twelve hours out of his way to visit it. He has seen too many ugly dirty villages.тАЭ + 

тАЬNo, certainly he will not. He would be much wiser not to. I only mentioned it because, if one starts from Seoul by the late touristsтАЩ trainтБатАФthe Gensan trainтБатАФone can arrive in the small hours at Choan-san and, by walking quickly, be in Mi-san by breakfast-time, spend two-thirds of the day there, and walk back to the railway in time to catch the touristsтАЩ day train back to SeoulтБатАФin this way only missing one dayтАЩs work.тАЭ + 

тАЬBut Seryozha would not dream of doing such a thing to visit an unattractive village in which he knows no one.тАЭ Anna looked at Alexander, her fat face screwed up with pity for this sad, gawky, inferior substitute for a son. тАЬPerhaps, my dear, Mi-san is where your horrid Tanya lives.тАЭ + 

тАЬTanya? What Tanya? Oh, I had forgotten her,тАЭ said Alexander in confusion. тАЬAh yes, now I come to think of it, she does happen to live at Mi-sanтБатАФI mean Tanya, this dreadful girl I mentioned to you. What of it? One knows so many girlsтБатАКтБатАж they all have to live somewhere.тБатАКтБатАжтАЭ + 

Anna saw his AdamтАЩs apple moving up and down. His very plainness seemed to her, in her over-sensitized mood, most heartbreaking. + 

тАЬAlexander Petrovitch,тАЭ she said. тАЬWonтАЩt you come and live with my husband and me while our son is away?тАЭ + 

тАЬGood God, no!тАЭ said Alexander, shutting his eyes as though he had been struck. тАЬI meanтБатАФexcuse me, Anna SemionovnaтБатАФI hardly know what I am saying. I meant to say, thank you very much for your kindness, butтАЭ (his voice broke as he realized that he was being pitied)тБатАФтАЬbut I must stay with the Nikitins. I am not very well just now.тБатАКтБатАж I have a touch of dysentery, I think. This pain in the pit of my stomach goes on and on.тБатАКтБатАжтАЭ + 

тАЬYou could have SeryozhaтАЩs room,тАЭ said Anna, ardently, hiccuping with anxiety. тАЬI can make a kind of gruel with arrowroot that wouldтБатАФтАЭ + 

тАЬNoтБатАФnoтБатАФno!тАЭ said Alexander, and swung his clasped hands, as though in an agony of prayer, up from between his knees to his chin and down again. He looked intensely away across the river, and beat himself on his big mouth to steady his lips. After a long moment he said, in a high firm voice, тАЬHave you ever noticed how few young Korean girls wear blue? They wear pink, green, yellow, white, but never blue. They donтАЩt seem to have noticed how pretty a young girl can look in blue.тАЭ + 

тАЬNo, they donтАЩt wear blue,тАЭ said Anna, sighing gustily. тАЬBut Chinese young girls wear nothing but blue.тАЭ + 

тАЬAh, but they wear trousers. Chinese coolie cloth made into trousers has an ugly effect. Stiff and uglyтБатАФnot swinging out when they dance or run.тБатАКтБатАж Besides, they donтАЩt wash it enough to let it fade to that cloudyтБатАКтБатАж cloudy blue.тБатАКтБатАжтАЭ He sat so long without saying anything more that Anna realized that she might as well leave him. + 

тАЬWell, Alexander Petrovitch,тАЭ she said, feeling nothing but a useless, clumsy old woman again, тАЬremember that I invited you.тБатАКтБатАж You may change your mind.тБатАКтБатАжтАЭ + 

Alexander did not seem to have heard her. His eyes were fixed upon her stockings, which were of a light gray. Alexander felt that he was haunted by light-gray stockingsтБатАФsince Tatiana always wore them. Every woman seemed to flaunt a cruel parody of TatianaтАЩs slim dancing gray legs, and every time he saw gray legs he felt as though something emotionally final had happenedтБатАФwhether hopeful or hopeless it was impossible to say. It was as if Tatiana had stepped across his vision. Even the station master at Gensan, by wearing gray socks, had stabbed Alexander WeberтАЩs heart hot and cold. Even the piers of the dock at Gensan, bleached with sun and sea, had made him feel, тАЬIs she comingтБатАФhas she gone?тАЭ though he did not realize why. Anna walked away. The sow was now suckling her ten ridiculous little balloons of babies, but taking no notice of themтБатАФnot fussing about them with the loving attentiveness other mothers show. The sowтАЩs soul seemed to be lost in that huge mound of a body; her body was an outlying region, only very sparsely colonized with the germs of consciousness, only nominally under the government of some little vital citadel of egoism in the soul of the sow. That great swollen body did what it had to doтБатАФconceived young, suckled its young, rooted its jaws drearily in mud, shoveled food in under its snout, moved the stiff, overburdened props of its legsтБатАФbut all these dull doings were uninspired by spirit. Only the tail, knotting and squirming tautly, seemed to have some more direct communication with the sowтАЩs remote inner life. + 

Anna laughed delightedly as she imagined herself nursing ten little Seryozhas. тАЬWith any other husband I should have had four at leastтБатАФeven though I was thirty-five when I married,тАЭ she thought. тАЬThen I could have kept three at home with me all the time, and Seryozha could have traipsed off as far as he liked.тАЭ + 

Then suddenly she began walking home very fast, tearing at the armholes of her dress because they were too tight for such rapid movement. She had remembered that Seryozha had not packed the little phial of castor oil she had filled for him out of the big bottle. She made a wild plan to hire a droshky and get Alexander Weber to drive it. Seryozha and Wilfred would by now be about halfway from Pa-tao-kou to their nightтАЩs stopтБатАФthirty miles from here, perhapsтБатАКтБатАж a droshky with a good horse.тБатАКтБатАж тАЬIt is most important,тАЭ she assured herself. тАЬCastor oil has saved lives before now. I could leave the old man plenty of cheese and bread, and get that Lai woman to come in and heat up the potatoes tonight.тБатАКтБатАжтАЭ + 

She hurried into the kitchen. Old Sergei was sitting at the table, running his fingers through the heads of a bunch of zinnias he had picked in the yard. + 

тАЬI am going to drive after Seryozha,тАЭ said Anna, in a hasty, defiant voice. тАЬIt is most important. I can get a droshky. I shall only be away till tomorrow noon, I dare say.тБатАКтБатАж He left something most important behindтБатАКтБатАж that little bottle of castor oil. It might easily be a matter of life and deathтБатАФeating at these filthy Korean inns.тБатАКтБатАжтАЭ + 

тАЬThe castor oil?тАЭ exclaimed Old Sergei, looking dizzy. тАЬHe took the castor oil with him. He was packing his pack in here while you were cooking pirozhki, and he said, тАШTell mamma I have put the castor oil in, since she makes such a point of it. Look, in hereтБатАФтАЩ he said, forgetting that I cannot look at castor oil or anything else.тАЭ + 

тАЬHe forgot it, I tell you,тАЭ shouted Anna, in a wild voice. She rushed to the shelf which had been the rendezvous of SeryozhaтАЩs accumulation for the journey. She stood looking at the bare shelf for a moment, in a silence broken only by one loud sad hiccup. тАЬThen, if he didnтАЩt forget it, why didnтАЩt you tell me before, you old foolтБатАФyou silly old foolтБатАФyou heartless old fool of a father? But why should you care? You send your only son away into the desert without a qualmтБатАФselling him for moneyтБатАФfor a paltry two hundred yen.тБатАКтБатАж Why should you care if he lives or dies? Or for me, the childтАЩs motherтБатАФwhy should you care if I eat my heart out with worry?тАЭ She stood in the middle of the kitchen, quivering, bending toward him as though she would strangle him. + 

Old Sergei, a little frightened, began to make the low humming noise between his lips that he used to make when they were first married, to soothe her when she became excited and nervous. She had been a slim young woman then, and he, gentle and always a little dense about the causes of her agitation. They used, in those days, to cling together in the dark, after a disquieting day, to the sound of that silly, compassionate humming. It soothed her now, though she seemed rather annoyed to be soothed. With a surrendering quick sigh she went away into the bedroom and, after a long period of silence there which her husband dared not interrupt, returned and cooked the supper, talking only rarely, alternately insulting him and apologizing to him. + 

But every day she escaped from home in pursuit of torturing reminders of her son. Sometimes she would stand in the gateway of the timber-yard by the river, watching the straining bullocks pulling at logs, watching the tilted trees on trestles being sawed by one man below and one above, watching glistening satin logs being hauled out of the river, watching finished planks being built into bristling wigwams. Sometimes she walked to an orchard that tiptoed on the slope of a hill, to see a little freak of a glimpse of very distant Korean mountains, wedged into the jumbled puzzle of Manchurian ups and downs. Sometimes she went to the mission garden to watch the children of Mrs.┬аButtersтАЩs and to gloat over every pimple of their inferior complexions, every missing tooth in their whining little mouths, every ungraceful angle in their rickety limbs, every detail that flattered her memory of her fine son. She was very kind to the mission children during those days and spent a whole afternoon mending their toy pedal motorcar. тАЬYour children are so very little, Mrs.┬аButtersтБатАФperhaps it is healthy to be so little, perhaps my Seryozha was always too bigтБатАФI dare say he was six inches taller than Dickie, when he was so old. It is pity that Dickie cannot carve woodsтБатАФmy Seryozha did always carve small ships in woodsтБатАФbut you are rightтБатАФperhaps it is dangerous to do things with knives. Your children can play with motorcarтБатАФthis is more modernтБатАФmy Seryozha must always make something.тБатАКтБатАж This motorcar see, it is brokenтБатАФthe horn cries no more, it is in two bitsтБатАФthe back side has come undone from the sit-down-upon. When my Seryozha was nine he shall have mended thisтБатАФbut never mind, Dickie, I will mend it for youтБатАФbecause I also have a little boy, I will glue the bulge of this horn to his tootleтБатАФI will glue this back sideтБатАФand so Betti and Dickie shall be as safeтБатАФas safeтБатАФas safe as in their loversтАЩ arms.тБатАКтБатАжтАЭ + 

тАЬIndeed, much safer, I hope, Mrs.┬аMalinin,тАЭ said Mrs.┬аButters, frostily, drawing her children away toward the house. + 

Sometimes Anna would seek out young Alexander Weber and make anxiously prosaic and useless suggestions about his problem. тАЬWell, if you love her, my dear boy, marry her.тБатАКтБатАж Well, if you feel like that about her, forget her.тБатАКтБатАж Occupy your mind with something else.тБатАКтБатАж Have you tried fishing in our river? Well, dear Alexander Petrovitch, why not go back and ask herтБатАФahтБатАФyou are tired of herтБатАФwell, make up your mindтБатАФyou canтАЩt have it both ways, you know.тБатАКтБатАжтАЭ All the time she cursed herself. тАЬHow useless I am. Being a mother has taught me nothing about how to comfort a young creatureтАЩs sorrow. Any other woman would know what to say to him.тАЭ Yet she heard her own reasonable, tiresome voice again, тАЬWell, if you still love her, why not ask her to marry youтБатАКтБатАжтАК?тАЭ Indeed, a practical friend can always easily cut the ground from under the feet of sorrow, but sorrow, as Anna knew, remains reared up in the heart that harbors it; without a leg to stand on, there it stands, as tall and terrible as everтБатАФsilly sorrow that will not lie downтБатАФthe ghost that cannot be laidтБатАФcasting its shadow where no ground is. + 

A day or two later, when Anna came in from mending socks and boasting of her son at the mission, she found her husband in great agitation, fumbling in his bureau among his threadbare Sunday clothes. + 

тАЬWe must go, Annitchka, and helpтБатАКтБатАж a terrible thing has happened.тБатАКтБатАж Oi-oi! poor boy! poor boy!тБатАКтБатАж Yet what a wicked presumption it is to take oneтАЩs own life.тБатАКтБатАж Oi-oi! what a terrible thing to happenтБатАКтБатАжтАК!тАЭ + 

Anna gave a loud, furious cry, instantly imagining Seryozha dead with a stain of blackish blood in his yellow hair. She could not speak; she took Old Sergei by the arm with a cruelly tight grip, and tugged him away from his occupation, feeling impelled to prevent anyone from doing anythingтБатАФto stop everything in the world happeningтБатАФif Seryozha was dead. + 

тАЬAlexander Petrovitch has killed himself.тБатАКтБатАж Little Mitya Nikitin came just now to ask us to go overтБатАФthe boy cut his throat.тБатАКтБатАж Little Mitya says there was blood creeping out under the door; Nikitin saw it when he got up this morning, though they heard no sound in the night except a sort of cooing that they thought was owlsтБатАФElyena Ivanovna said, тАШOwls! I never heard an owl before in Chi-tao-kou.тАЩ And then, in the morning, blood coming under the crack of the door in the shape of a long spoon, little Mitya says. Of course they tried to rush in, but the door was boltedтБатАФthey had to break it open so violently that the bolt flew across and broke the window, and Nikitin, falling inward, nearly tumbled over the body, because it was just inside the door. Young Weber was quite dead. Little Mitya says he was lying with his head thrown right back and his throat gaping, looking widely upward, as though at an airplane, his mouth open, one hand thrown up, as though pointing, the other holding his razor.тБатАКтБатАжтАЭ + 

Anna sank down on a chair, leaning on the table. She could hear inside her head a loud keen sound as of steam escaping. Her first thought was: тАЬWell, now Seryozha cannot dieтБатАФnow that he has once been dead in my thoughts and has risen again. He is safe now.тАЭ She sat breathing heavily, and gradually, as the shock passed, she forgot that ultimate crisis of her fear and began to feel that young WeberтАЩs death was the most terrible thing that could have happened today. She began to remember that the day had been mounting up in a sort of crescendo to disaster; the milk had been sour, a chicken had been killed by a cat, by some freak of absence of mind she had opened the wrong door in the mission compound and found Mr.┬аButters at prayer with a friendтБатАФshe imagined now that she had suffered an overwhelming sense of foreboding on hearing the mission children teaching their puppy to die for its countryтБатАФтАЬDeadтБатАФdeadтБатАФSpotтБатАФdead.тБатАКтБатАжтАЭ Anna was persuaded that the whole day had been climbing up to death, like the note of the rain-birdтБатАФhigher and higher, sharper and sharper, cracking, straining, higher and higher, till the voice splintered in a wild horrible peal and was still. + 

Alexander Weber was now promoted in AnnaтАЩs mind to the status of a thing truly loved and terribly lost, and this process automatically involved a paroxysm of self-reproach on poor AnnaтАЩs part; тАЬI could have saidтБатАФwhy didnтАЩt I insist?тБатАФif I had been wiserтБатАФI might have saidтБатАФI might have doneтБатАКтБатАжтАЭ and now there he was, his blood running like a messenger out into the world, with a message of tacit reproach to a world full of blunderers. + 

Anna noticed that her husband had found and put on his old only Homburg hat. This hat, which Old Sergei scarcely ever wore, was his tribute to the solemnity and excitement of death. Like the screw top of an engine out of regular use and seldom assembled, it lidded a creaking, rusty organism, rarely set in motion but now profoundly pulsing and pounding, the reawakened essence of vitality running like a vapor from end to end of the feeble obsolete casing that enclosed it. + 

тАЬWhere are you going?тАЭ asked Anna, huskily. тАЬI think you sit here and wait for disasters.тАЭ + 

тАЬWell, we ought both to go and help, I think. The boy was of our race. Besides, he left a letter for you. Elyena Ivanovna has it.тАЭ + 

He clung with both hands to her arm as she led him through the streets. His body hung back, for fear of stumbling, but his spirit urged haste for fear of missing something. He was always in a hurry to be near the dead, forgetting that the dead are the only friends who can be really depended on to wait for us. + 

The Nikitin tribe, a group of promoted peasantsтБатАФthree or four interrelated families living in a maze of Korean houses that almost amounted to a hamletтБатАФwas divided between sentimentality and resentment, in the matter of Alexander WeberтАЩs suicide. They had laid the body of the young man, as though it were in disgrace yet might hope to be forgiven, in a room in an outlying house. The grandmother of the various families, a very aged, crumpled, ivory creature, watched over the body, trimmed the candles, and readтБатАФor seemed to readтБатАФfrom the Bible, though much of what she mumbled was a half-remembered rigmarole, for she never had been able to read easily and was, in any case, almost blind now. + 

Alexander Weber lay on the bed, looking astounded. The bluish lids now covering his large, sunken, meditative eyes did not modify his expression of amazement. His lips were set in a tautness that was not so much a smile as a suggestion of an attempt to whistle through his teeth. тАЬIтАЩm not listening to you,тАЭ that mouth seemed to say, provocatively. тАЬYou can say what you likeтБатАФyou canтАЩt annoy me now. IтАЩm simply not listening.тАЭ His neck was rigidly bandaged with clean cloths, and this gave him a stiff, stuffed, shrugging look, like a skeleton George the Fourth. After so much talk of blood, it seemed to Anna that everything looked very wanтБатАФvery thoroughly drained of color. The white bandages, the white clothes on the young manтАЩs bleached body, the pale light of the candles competing with the cracks of denied daylight, the scrubbed boards, the wilderness of sheet, the quietness, the featureless old voice mumblingтБатАФeverything seemed pale, stilled, and suspended. + 

Anna had snatched up, as she left her own home, a little silver cross that had been left to her by an old aunt long ago. It had little sentimental meaning for her, but she had so few possessions that, if she had thought a little longer, she would perhaps have found that she could not spare it. Now, however, it was in her hand; she had looked at it several times, on her way through the streets, not committing herself to sacrificing it, yet dedicating it to sacrificeтБатАКтБатАж teaching her hand to give it away. And now, without saying anything, she laid it on AlexanderтАЩs breast above his clasped finger tips. тАЬEasy to doтБатАФnow,тАЭ she thought, self-reproachfully. тАЬEverything I do is always easy and obvious by the time it occurs to me to do it.тАЭ But she was glad that she had laid her cross on his breast. That was the right, womanly thing to do, at last. She heard one of the Nikitin nieces making a little clucking sound of approval beside her, and was soberly relieved to have made no mistake in giving her gift. The cross made a little shining, definite meaning to the blank picture; it slipped into place as the moon slips into a blind evening sky, when the sunset has been drained away. + 

Old Sergei stood at the room door, hungrily craning his face toward the dead youth. тАЬShut away,тАЭ murmured Old Sergei, hoarse with the excitement that death always aroused in him. тАЬCut offтБатАФshut away. How curious it all is!тБатАКтБатАж All the little things lostтБатАФhis tastes in food, the jokes that amused himтБатАФhow curious! Even perhaps a little plan that he had to buy himself a blue tie in Harbin or to see Charlie Chaplin in the cinemaтБатАФall lostтБатАФnothing could be more lost; if you offered a reward of a million rubles, you could never know those things now. How curious! Perhaps there was something his whole heart was set on, yesterdayтБатАФand yet, if it happened today, he wouldnтАЩt turn his head to look.тАЭ + 

тАЬNo,тАЭ said Anna. тАЬIf she came now, he wouldnтАЩt turn his head to look.тАЭ + 

тАЬHow curiousтБатАФhow curiousтБатАФhow very curious,тАЭ whispered Old Sergei, trembling with elemental bewilderment, тАЬthat he should make no sound. If he had left this room a thousand years ago, the room couldnтАЩt have lost his voice more completely. I havenтАЩt seen a dead man since I was blind, you know, Annitchka, and I had forgotten that dead men donтАЩt breathe. Come awayтБатАФcome away now, Annitchka. I canтАЩt bear to hear no breathing. ItтАЩs so very curious. Where is that breath? Where are the words we should have heard from him today? Oi! how terrible not to see a thing so silent! Death is more explained by eyes than by ears, Annitchka. ListenтБатАФI simply couldnтАЩt touch a dead man, now that I canтАЩt see. It would be likeтБатАКтБатАж cold meat.тБатАКтБатАжтАЭ + 

тАЬThere is no need to touch him,тАЭ said Anna, indifferently. She did not move, and Old Sergei, clutching her arm, leaned forward, listening to the stillness that frightened him, glaring with his useless eyes. They stood for a long time, as though in a dream. Anna had strayed into a mood of peace. She almost didnтАЩt care, now. Here was one unhappy boyтАЩs unhappiness quieted, and her own happy boy left alive to enjoy his strong, hopeful lifeтБатАФundisturbed by such a destructive thing as the love of women. God was not dead. If the two boys had changed placesтБатАФthe happy one cut off in his happiness, the despairing one preserved in his despairтБатАФshe would have thought, тАЬThis is typical of the contrarinessтБатАФthe nonsense of divine decrees.тАЭ Often Anna felt obliged to suspect the divine wisdom, but now she gladly admitted a kind of profound senseтБатАФeven in omniscience. That bloodsucking womanтБатАФwhatever her name wasтБатАФhad missed one splendid and indispensable victim, and drained this poor drooping boy of his life. Seryozha was the more valuable, and he was safe. For Seryozha, thought Anna, a mother and a dog were enough. Neither she nor any other boyтАЩs mother would ever find Seryozha sitting on a stone, glaring as if in a trance at a swift river, talkingтБатАФtalking of a cruel woman, as though his tongue had forgotten all other words, as though his thoughtsтАЩ grooves were worn too deep for change, as though his heart were bound to a ghostтБатАФlike a story she had read somewhere about a prisoner bound to a corpse. Well, something like justice had been done. Seryozha was safe from love, and this desperate boy at peace at lastтБатАФdead of that same love. + 

Now, now no longer sealed + 

In a thin pent body, + 

Mine are the windy fields + 

And the long halls of the wood; + 

I, who was loved and held, + 

Am now as cold as God. + 

The lover and his bride + 

Burn in a narrow flame. + 

We who have died + 

Keep no such tryst with worms. + 

Our sleep is wide, + 

Being in no manтАЩs arms. + 

One of the women of the house touched AnnaтАЩs arm and gave her a letter. AnnaтАЩs name was written on a rather bulging envelope. + 

The letter said, in rather a stilted manner, + 

Esteemed Anna Semionovna, I have decided to finish a life which is no more interesting to me. I am twenty-four years old and I am convinced that life has nothing more to offer me. I have always held the philosophical opinion that a man of experience has a perfect right to take his own life when, in his mature opinion, he has had his fill of experience. I donтАЩt know whether I may have mentioned to you that I have been very badly treated by a woman (if woman she can be called), by name Tatiana Pavlovna Ostapenko, and you may perhaps think that I have been weak enough to let her heartless behavior prey upon my mind, and that this is the cause of my death. It is not so, I assure you. Her repudiation of my honorable affection, though unreasonable, could not, of course, affect very seriously a man of my philosophical temperament. On the contrary I am glad to think that my death will relieve her of remorse for her conductтБатАФfor she has a tender conscience, though she has no heart. She will think, тАЬWell, poor Sasha is safely dead, now. I need worry about his sorrows no more.тАЭ For she did worryтБатАФwith a cold uneasiness. Perhaps when she is a lonely old woman she will worry again, but for the present she is welcome to get what satisfaction she can out of my death. In reality, my life and my death are my own affair, and women have had no influence on either. I should like to leave her my little gold compass which I have wrapped in a sealed packet in my pack, though it may seem ironical that I should leave her the thing I valued most in life, since she valued me not at all. Nor I her very much, really. I leave to my mother Maria Nicholaievna Weber, my money, seventeen yen fifty, and the rest of my possessions. Except my watch, which I leave to my younger brother, Konstantin Petrovitch Weber, with the advice that when he grows up he confine his love affairs to the caresses of Korean singing girlsтБатАФthey are safer than the kindness of virtuous women. + 

I should be grateful, Anna Semionovna, if you would kindly send the enclosed letter to my mother, as above, at 2 Takezoecho Ichome, Seoul, and apportion the belongings found on my person and in my pack as above directed. I hope you realize that I did appreciate your kindness to me, though I may have seemed at the time rather absentminded, owing to some business affairs that were engrossing me. In reality I enjoyed the various amusing and interesting chats we had together. + 

тАЬWell,тАЭ thought Anna, biting her lips defiantly as she read this letter. тАЬIt couldnтАЩt have been my Seryozha. It couldnтАЩt. ItтАЩs ridiculous to compare the two boys. One was half a man and the other is a whole boy. No woman could suck the blood out of my Seryozha, especially a woman whom all her lovers call death. Besides, he is most unlikely to meet herтБатАФtwelve hours out of his way. Why should he meet her? There must be hundreds of Russians in Korea?тАЭ She looked at AlexanderтАЩs stiff suspense-filled face, and some inward dismissing finger in her heart pointed him awayтБатАФawayтБатАФto be hurried into the earthтБатАФto be buried with his dangerous secret of loveтБатАФto have that mouth stopped that talked so constantly of his cruel loveтБатАФto have that wound of love cauterizedтБатАФto isolate a contagious heart in the cleansing grave. + 

But as she walked home, with Old Sergei clinging to her arm, tears ran down her face and she sobbed aloud. тАЬOi! itтАЩs just that all boys are alike,тАЭ she said, roughly and brokenly to her husband. тАЬThe same number of fingers and toesтБатАКтБатАж the same silly heartsтБатАКтБатАж the same busy soft bodiesтБатАКтБатАж all the boys in the world are really like one huge silly young body.тБатАКтБатАж Yet SeryozhaтАЩs still safe. I canтАЩt care much about this poor Alexander.тАЭ As for AlexanderтБатАФlet some other mother worry about him. She, Anna, had given him her auntтАЩs silver crossтБатАФand soтБатАФaway with him! + 

тАЬWe must help the Nikitins to arrange for a decent funeral, even though he did kill himself,тАЭ said Old Sergei, fussily. тАЬThere was a nice plot of ground next to Alexei VassileievitchтАЩs grave, wasnтАЩt there? Shall you leave your auntтАЩs silver cross on his breast, or did you only lend it to him?тАЭ + 

тАЬMy auntтАЩs cross? How do you know I put my auntтАЩs silver cross on his breast? You did not go near him.тАЭ + 

тАЬHow do I know? How should I not know? I saw it, of course.тАЭ He was abruptly silent for an astonished moment and then said, тАЬAnnaтБатАФI saw it.тАЭ + 

AnnaтАЩs thoughts always ran in such a bustling hurry along grooves worn by her own experience that for a moment she did not realize the significance of his emphasisтБатАФin spite of her first feeling of disconnection between the remark and her reason. He saw itтБатАФwell, why was that nonsense? She had seen it herself. Why not? He saw it, yesтБатАФhe saw it? HeтБатАФsaw it? But he was blind! + 

тАЬHow could you have seen it?тАЭ she said, irascibly. тАЬHow could you see anything? Tell me, how did you really know it was there? You didnтАЩt touch himтБатАФyou said you couldnтАЩt bear to and you didnтАЩt. What do you mean, you silly old man? How did you know about the cross? Explain. DonтАЩt make silly mysteries.тАЭ + 

тАЬThere is no mystery. I saw it,тАЭ said Old Sergei. Then the impression began to dim and he added: тАЬYet, noтБатАФthatтАЩs absurd. How could I have seen it? Let me seeтБатАФhow did I know it was there?тАЭ + 

AnnaтАЩs mind could only digest everythings or nothings. There was no sometimes in her schedule, only always and never. The suicide of Alexander, and her own sense of failure, had inspired in her that futile, sore irritation left by a happening that cannot be revokedтБатАФthat craving of the heart to say, тАЬLetтАЩs pretend it hasnтАЩt happened,тАЭ when the brain answers, тАЬBut it has.тБатАКтБатАжтАЭ The heart crying, тАЬCome back to yesterdayтБатАФyesterday he lived,тАЭ and the brain insisting, тАЬNo. Face today. Today he is dead.тБатАКтБатАжтАЭ + 

тАЬOh, you old nuisance!тАЭ said Anna, while even as she spoke she recognized her accusation as false and unfair. тАЬI believe you can see all the time. You have been pretending blindness all these months, just to be tiresome and make us pity you.тБатАКтБатАж Look, walk by yourself now, you old hypocrite. You can see perfectly well. Let go of my arm.тАЭ She threw his clinging hands away from her arm and walked furiously away. + 

Old Sergei was left in the middle of the street, flapping his arms like a child. He threw all his tremulous householderтАЩs dignity away and began bellowing: тАЬAnna! Anna! Help! Anna, are you a devil? Annitchka, I am lostтБатАФI canтАЩt see. Annitchka darling, help me!тБатАКтБатАжтАЭ Several Chinese peddlers, shocked and amused at this loud scene between a male and female Big-nose, stood still to watch. + 

Anna came back to him and snatched at his hand, almost crying with hatred of herself and him: тАЬTschah! Come along then; come along, you old fool.тАЭ + 

тАЬBut, Anna, I swear you are wrong,тАЭ twittered the old man, wild with relief at her return, clinging with both hands to her wrist as he stumbled beside her. тАЬAnnitchka, I swear I am no hypocriteтБатАФI am blindтБатАФyou can see IтАЩm blind. The doctor said I was blind. I canтАЩt explain about the silver cross, but I am not lying about my blindnessтБатАФI swear itтБатАФAnnaтБатАФbelieve itтБатАФbelieve itтБатАФbelieve it!тАЭ he cried, shrilly. Her harshness had sent him abruptly back into his childhood again, he shook and pinched her arm, like a naughty child, in a panic of insistence. The Chinese peddlers walked slowly behind them, laughing, fascinated and embarrassed. + 

тАЬI shall go straight to the hospital,тАЭ said Anna, obstinately, тАЬand talk to the Japanese doctor and ask him what really is wrong with your sightтБатАКтБатАж whether it is possible that you are simply pretending, all these months, to be helpless. He called it hysterical from the first.тБатАКтБатАж I shall ask him what all this meansтБатАФI seeтБатАФI canтАЩt seeтБатАФI seeтБатАФI canтАЩt see. Tschah! you old baby.тБатАКтБатАжтАЭ + 

And she did, after leaving him on his own threshold, walk to the hospital, having nothing else to do, and ask the Japanese doctor to explain this curious intermission in her husbandтАЩs blindnessтБатАФif genuine blindness it was. + 

The Japanese doctor was a very sparkling young man who had studied medicine and psychology in Chicago. In spite of his American education, he still presented that contradiction or quibble in social convention characteristic of his race, which obliged him continually to hiss inward politely through his teeth for fear of seeming to exhale in the presence of a stranger, yet allowed him to hawk and cough explosively every minute into that strangerтАЩs very eye. + 

He thought poor fat untidy Anna very uncouth, but he bowed to her neatly and repeatedly and was delighted to talk about his most treasured caseтБатАФOld Sergei. He was less delighted to hear about him, for, though he spoke beautiful English, he understood very little, unless it was written down. This is a peculiarity of the Japanese as linguistsтБатАФall have tongues, but few have ears. A Japanese fellow traveler may give you an exhaustive account of the geological history of the Cheddar Gorge, and yet face you with a blank baffled bow when you ask him to pass the cheese, please. + 

тАЬYou say he saw somethingтБатАФa horse, I understand.тАЭ + 

тАЬA cross on a dead manтАЩs breast.тАЭ + 

тАЬAh, you say he is dead. WellтБатАФтАЭ + 

тАЬNo. He has seen a cross that I have given to a dead man.тАЭ + 

тАЬAh, he has seen a dead man. I see by my notes that this interest in funerals is characteristic of the patient. I understand everything now. This glimpse of a dead man is most illuminating, missis.тАЭ Even while he was speaking he decided to write an account of Old SergeiтАЩs case to the magazine of the medical school at which he had studied. He saw Anna through a sort of veil of anticipated printed words of flattery.тБатАКтБатАж тАЬDoctor K. Morimoto of the Chi-tao-kou hospital, Kanto.тБатАКтБатАж Interesting observations by Japanese psychologist.тБатАКтБатАж Notes of an illuminating case.тБатАКтБатАж Doctor K. MorimotoтАЩs new light on hysterical amblyopia.тБатАКтБатАж Doctor K. Morimoto, the rising young psycho-pathologist.тБатАКтБатАжтАЭ The doctor felt obliged to speak loudly to Anna through this happy fog of hopes and compliments which dazzled his goldrimmed glasses, she seemed to him so pleasantly dimmed. Yet he bowed automatically in her direction, feeling vaguely grateful to her for having an illuminating husband. тАЬThis matter bears out my first diagnosis, thus proving it to be perfectly correct. Your husband could, I am convinced, be cured of his pseudo blindness by psychoanalysis, if Chi-tao-kou could produce an analyst who shared some common language with the patient. Nothing, however, could be less helpful than the analysis in Japanese of a Russian patient who had no acquaintance with the Japanese language by an analyst who was unable to speak Russian. Your husband, when attacked by business and other misfortunes, and finding his position as independent merchant and paterfamilias threatened by the police and other dangers, takes refuge, unconsciously, in a reversion to the helplessness of the child, a claim for protection in this case established by blindness. Hysteria, you must remember, missis, is an affliction like any other affliction; it must not excite our contempt or irritation; it must be treated as a real affliction. Your husband is certainly not consciously deceiving us all; his Unconscious is simply tired of the responsibility of being the head of a family in such difficult circumstances, and, by wrapping itself in such a disability as blindness, claims the protection, so to speak, of his familyтБатАФa protection that cannot be withheld from a blind man. I see, by referring to my notes, that your husband has long had an interestтБатАФamounting almost to an obsessionтБатАФabout the duty of honoring the dead of his own race. So, being brought into the presenceтБатАФI think you saidтБатАФof a dead Russian today, his Unconscious allowed itselfтБатАФif I may so speakтБатАФa little holiday from its protective business of blindness, and gave him a glimpseтБатАФwhich he did not at once realize was a glimpseтБатАФof what so profoundly interested him. This craving to see the dead man being satisfied, the protective armor of pseudo blindness is resumed.тАЭ + 

тАЬThe old liar,тАЭ blurted Anna. + 

The doctorтАЩs Unconscious wrapped itself in a protective armor of impenetrable Japaneseness. тАЬYes indeed, missis. You must simply consider your husband for the present as a genuinely blind man, though his physical sight is unimpaired. His Unconscious is determined not to see until it is safe for it to do so, as it were. It will not allow him to be thrust back into the ranks of well and hearty men who take charge of their own affairs.тАЭ + 

тАЬThe old coward,тАЭ snorted Anna. + 

тАЬIndeed yes, a most interesting case,тАЭ mused the doctor. тАЬIt only needs to be rounded off by a cure.тАЭ + 

тАЬIt certainly does,тАЭ said Anna, ominously. + 

But on the way home she resolved to be more patient with her old coward. She heard with horror in her remembering ears her own rough harsh voice and his gentle martyred bleatings. тАЬDid ever any woman commit so many sins as I?тАЭ she exclaimed, secretly, stamping and snorting along the street. тАЬNever a minute passes without my having to be sorry for something I did the last minute. I must have been mad to treat my Old Sergei soтБатАФeven if he had been the worst old husband in the world. And heтАЩs not the worstтБатАФheтАЩs only just an old foolтБатАФand heтАЩs fond of me.тАЭ But her conscience could not let even this description of him stand. She began tenderly to remember him as he was when she married himтБатАФa thin, fanciful, conscientious bookkeeper in a Russian firm in London, a member of a high-thinking debating society, and interested in moths. He was always rather like a moth himself, she thought, but a nice, ivory-colored, clean one. He had been devoted to his gay, noisy Anna. He had always been ready to cover up her mistakes and comfort her conscience. She had married himтБатАФ(Good God! was it possible?)тБатАФshe had married him because she thought he was so wise. But the fact that he had proved not to be wise seemed to her now endearing. If he had been really wise he would not have remained devoted, she thought with a humble hiccup, to a fat blunderer like herself. + 

And so she went on thinking in remorseful circles until she got home, and then she heard her own voice saying, тАЬI went to see the doctor and he says your blindness is all hysterical liesтБатАФall liesтБатАФdo you hear? You neednтАЩt trouble to lie to me any more, now that I know. Ah, tschah! I brought you a packet of English cigarettes to smoke, you old liarтБатАКтБатАжтАК!тАЭ And she threw the packet rudely on the floor at his feet. Old Sergei humbly crouched to grope for it, but Anna squatted down herself to pick it up. Their foreheads collided. тАЬDevil take you, you old fool,тАЭ said Anna, and she helped him into a standing position and patted him, a little too hard, on the back, uncertain whether she did it in exasperation or friendliness. + 

In this precarious way the days went on, piled themselves heavily together to make a weekтБатАФa fortnight. When Old Sergei had ten knots in his string, he began to say, reasonably, тАЬHe really might be back today; it isnтАЩt likely, but he mightтБатАФтАЭ + 

At the end of a fortnight they received a letter from Seryozha to say that he had married Tatiana Pavlovna Ostapenko. + 

It was a very bald letter. Seryozha was not a literary boy. Anna found it when she came in from a long walk out into the countryтБатАФout on to the road by which she hoped to see, far across the valley, two distant figures returning home. + 

тАЬHe has married that woman whom Alexander Weber called death,тАЭ said Anna, putting down the letter. Now she knew why the outlines of young AlexanderтАЩs body had seemed so empty and expectant to her. Seryozha had been drawn away, like life through the door of a wound, drawn across deserts to love death, drawn by the lure of a ghostтБатАФa cruel ghost who sucked life. That was the end of AnnaтАЩs son. He had been stolen away, to lie at last dead, far from home, married to death. That blank that was Alexander had been waitingтБатАФto be filled by SeryozhaтАЩs glowing body. AnnaтАЩs eyes, unprompted by her sense, now filled in a him in the place of the it that had lain on NikitinтАЩs tableтБатАФthat pale deathтБатАФthat wan visionтБатАФthat thing only casually labeled Alexander Petrovitch, as it might have been labeled with a numberтБатАФthat obscurely anonymous seventh doomed lover of a ghost. Anna knew now what dear color that pallor waited forтБатАФthe bright dead face of SeryozhaтБатАФastounded, desolate, haloed with white, alone, and married to death. + 

тАЬMy son is dead. Now I care for nothingтБатАФmy sonтБатАФsince I have let you goтБатАФthe light of my eyes.тБатАКтБатАжтАЭ + 