The Petty Demon (21 page)

“Here he is, the mysterious young fellow!” Lyudmila exclaimed joyfully.

Sasha kissed her hand and he did so adeptly and with great satisfaction. At the same time he also kissed the hands of Darya
and Valeriya. There was no avoiding them and he discovered that this also gave him a distinct pleasure. All the more so because
all three kissed him on the cheek: Darya kissed loudly but indifferently, like he was a board; Valeriya did it tenderly with
downcast eyes, cunning eyes, giggling softly and gently touching him with her delicate joyful lips, and the kiss fell on his
cheek like a fragrant apple blossom; and Lyudmila gave him a smacking kiss, joyfully, cheerfully and firmly.

“This is my guest,” she declared resolutely, took Sasha by the shoulders and led him off to her room.

Darya immediately grew angry.

“Your guest, so go ahead and kiss with him all you want!” she cried angrily. “She’s found herself a treasure! No one’s going
to take it away.”

Valeriya said nothing, just grinned—it would be very interesting to have a chat with the boy! What does he understand?

In Lyudmila’s room it was spacious, cheerful and bright because of two
large windows that looked out on the garden and which were lightly curtained with a delicate yellowish lace. There was a sweet
fragrance. Everything was smart and bright. The chairs and armchairs were upholstered in a golden-yellow fabric with a barely
discernible white pattern. A variety of phials for perfume, toilet waters, jars, tins, fans and several Russian and French
books were to be seen.

“I dreamt about you last night,” Lyudmila said with a laugh. “You were swimming by the town bridge while I was sitting on
the bridge and I caught you with my fishing rod.”

“And put me in a jar?” Sasha asked with amusement.

“Why into a jar?”

“But where else?”

“Where else? I plucked you by the ears and tossed you back into the river.”

And Lyudmila burst into a long ringing
laughter.

“Oh, you’re quite a one!” Sasha said. “What did you want to say to me today?”

Lyudmila laughed and didn’t reply.

“Obviously you deceived me,” Sasha guessed. “And you also promised to show me something,” he said reproachfully.

“I’ll show
you! Do you want to eat?” Lyudmila asked.

“I’ve already had dinner,” Sasha said. “Oh, what a deceiver you are!”

“As though I needed to deceive you. Is that pomade you’re reeking of?” Lyudmila suddenly asked. Sasha blushed.

“I can’t bear pomade!” Lyudmila said with annoyance. “A little miss with pomade in his hair!”

She ran her hand over his hair,
got oil on her hand and slapped him on the cheek with her palm.

“Please, don’t you dare use pomade!” she said.

Sasha was dismayed.

“Alright, I won’t,” he said. “What stern measures! But you use perfume!”

“Perfume is one thing and pomade another, silly!
Imagine trying to are the two,” she said with conviction. “I never use pomade. Why stick your hair together! Perfume is not
the same thing at all. Here, let me put some perfume on you. Is that appealing to you? I’ll put lilac on you, is that appealing?”

“Yes, it is appealing to me,” Sasha said with a smile.

It was pleasant for him to think that he would carry the scent home
with himself and surprise Kokovkina once more.

“Who finds it appealing?” Lyudmila asked again, took a phial with a syringe
and gazed slyly and questioningly at Sasha.

“It really is appealing to me,” Sasha repeated.

“Is it appealing to you? A peeling?
I see! You think it’s a peeling from an orange!” Lyudmila teased him cheerfully.

Sasha and Lyudmila burst into cheerful laughter.

“You’re not afraid any more that I’m going to ‘atomize’ you?”
Lyudmila asked. “Do you remember what a coward you were yesterday?”

“I wasn’t any coward,” Sasha replied hotly, flaring up.

Lyudmila chuckled and started to apply the perfume, teasing him all the while. Sasha thanked her and kissed her hand once
more.

“And please, cut your hair!” Lyudmila said sternly. “What’s so nice about wearing long curls, you’ll scare horses with your
hairdo.”

“Well, alright, I’ll get it cut, “Sasha agreed. “Such terrible measures! My hair is still quite short, only a half-inch long
and the inspector didn’t say anything to me about my hair.”

“I like young people with their hair cut short, take note of that,” Lyudmila said gravely and threatened him with a finger.
“And I’m not your inspector, you have to obey me.”

From that time Lyudmila got into the habit of going to Kokovkina’s for Sasha more and more frequently. Particularly at first
she tried to come when Kokovkina wasn’t at home. At times she resorted to cunning and lured the old woman out of the house.
Darya said to her once:

“E-ech, what a coward you are! You’re afraid of the old woman. If she’s there when you arrive, then just take him away—for
a walk.”

Lyudmila obeyed and started to go at whatever the time. If she found Kokovkina at home, then, after sitting with her for a
little while, she would take Sasha for a walk. But if that were the case, then she never kept him for long.

Lyudmila and Sasha were quickly drawn into a tender but uneasy friendship. Without noticing it herself, Lyudmila was already
arousing in Sasha urges and desires that were precocious and as yet vague. Sasha frequently kissed Lyudmila’s hands—those
delicate, pliant fingers covered with a tender supple skin—and the meandering blue veins were visible through the yellowish
pink membrane. And higher up—the long shapely arms—it was easy to kiss them right up to the elbows after pushing back the
wide sleeves.

Sometimes Sasha concealed from Kokovkina that Lyudmila was coming. He didn’t lie, he simply said nothing. Besides, how could
he lie—the servant herself could tell the truth. And it wasn’t easy for Sasha to keep quiet about Lyudmila’s visits because
her laughter continued to echo in his ears. He wanted to talk about her. But for some reason it was awkward for him to do
so.

Sasha quickly became friends with the other sisters as well. He would kiss all their hands and within a short while he even
started to call the girls Dashenka, Lyudmilochka and Valerochka.

O
NCE WHEN
L
YUDMILA
met Sasha on the street during the day, she said to him:

“The director’s oldest daughter is celebrating her name day tomorrow.
Is your old lady going?”

“I don’t know,” Sasha said.

And a joyful hope stirred in his heart, and it was not so much a hope
as a desire that Kokovkina would go and Lyudmila would come and spend time with him precisely at that time. In the evening
he reminded Kokovkina of the coming name day.

“I almost forgot,” Kokovkina said. “I’ll go. She’s such a nice girl.”

And directly
after Sasha returned from the gymnasium, Kokovkina left to go to the Khripach family. Sasha was overjoyed by the thought that
he was able to get Kokovkina out of the house. Now he was certain that Lyudmila would find the time to come.

And so it happened
that Lyudmila did come. She kissed Sasha on the cheek, let him kiss her hand and she laughed cheerfully while he reddened.
A sweet, floral, moist fragrance wafted from Lyudmila’s clothing: rose and iris. The fleshly and voluptuous iris dissolved
in the sweet reverie of roses. Lyudmila had brought a narrow box wrapped in a fine paper through which a yellowish drawing
was visible. She sat down, put the box on her knees and looked slyly at Sasha.

“Do you like dates?” she asked.

“I adore them,”
Sasha said with a funny face.

“Well, I’m going to treat you,” Lyudmila said gravely.

She undid the box and said:

“Eat!”

She
herself took one date at a time out of the box and put it into Sasha’s mouth and after each one she forced him to kiss her
hand. Sasha said:

“My lips have become so sweet!”

“It’s hardly a misfortune that they’ve become sweet, go ahead and kiss to your heart’s content,” Lyudmila answered cheerfully.
“I won’t be offended.”

“It would be better if I gave you all the kisses afterwards at once,” Sasha said with a chuckle. And
he was about to reach for a date himself.

“Deceiver, deceiver!” Lyudmila cried, deftly slapped the box shut and struck Sasha on the fingers.

“Come now, I’m honest and I won’t deceive you,” Sasha assured her.

“No, no, I don’t believe you,” Lyudmila insisted.

“Well, do you want me to give you all the kisses first?” Sasha offered.

“Now that’s more like it,” Lyudmila said joyfully. “Kiss me.”

She stretched out her hand to Sasha. Sasha took her slender, long fingers, kissed them once and asked with a sly grin without
letting her hand go:

“You won’t deceive me, Lyudmilochka?”

“As though I weren’t honest!” Lyudmila answered cheerfully. “Don’t worry, I won’t deceive you, you can kiss me without having
any doubts.”

Sasha bent down over her hand and started to kiss it quickly. He fairly covered the hand with kisses, making loud smacking
sounds with his widely parted lips and he felt pleased that he could cover her with so many kisses. Lyudmila counted up the
kisses carefully. She counted to ten and said:

“It’s awkward for you standing on your feet, you should bend down.”

“I’ll arrange myself more comfortably,” Sasha said.

He got down on his knees and continued zealously with his kisses.

Sasha loved to eat. He liked to have Lyudmila treat him to sweets. He loved her even more tenderly for that reason.

Lyudmila sprayed Sasha with a sickly sweet smelling perfume. Sasha was amazed at the fragrance: sweet but strange, dizzying,
murky bright, like the early, goldening, but sinful dawn behind a white mist. Sasha said:

“What strange perfume!”

“Try it on your hand,” Lyudmila advised.

She gave him an unattractive rectangular bottle with rounded edges. Sasha peered at the color—a brilliant yellow, cheerful
liquid. An enormous colorful label with an inscription in French: cyclamen from Piver’s. Sasha took hold of the flat glass
stopper, pulled it out and smelled the perfume. Then he did it the way Lyudmila loved to do it: he put the palm of his hand
over the mouth of the bottle, quickly inverted it and then turned it right side up, rubbed the drops of cyclamen together
on his palms and carefully smelled his palm. The alcohol dissipated and the pure fragrance remained. Lyudmila looked at him
with mounting anticipation. Sasha said uncertainly:

“It smells a little like a sugar-coated bedbug.”

“Now, now, stop your lying, please,” Lyudmila said with annoyance.

She also took some of the perfume on her hand and smelled. Sasha repeated:

“Really, it smells like a bedbug.”

Lyudmila suddenly flared up so that little tears glittered in her eyes and she struck Sasha on the cheek and cried:

“Ah, you wicked boy! That’s for your bedbug!”

“That was a hefty blow!” Sasha said, laughed and kissed Lyudmila’s
hand. “Why are you so angry, Lyudmilochka, sweetheart! Well, what do you think it smells of?”

The blow didn’t anger him, he was completely enchanted by Lyudmila.

“What does it smell of?” Lyudmila asked and grabbed Sasha
by the ear. “I’ll tell you right away what it smells of, but first I’m going to pluck your ear off.”

“Oi-oi-oi, Lyudmilochka,
darling, I won’t do it again!” Sasha said, screwing up his face from the pain and doubling over.

Lyudmila let go of the reddened
ear, tenderly drew Sasha to herself, sat him down on her knees and said:

“Listen. Three spirits reside in cyclamen. This poor
little flower smells of sweet ambrosia and that is for the worker bees. Surely you know that in Russian it is called sowbread.”

“Sowbread,” Sasha repeated with a chuckle. “What a funny name.”

“Don’t you laugh, you imp,” Lyudmila said, took him by the
other ear and continued. “Sweet ambrosia and the bees buzz above it and that is its joy. And it also smells of a delicate
vanilla and that is no longer intended for the bees, but for what they are dreaming about. That is its desire—the little flower
and the golden sun overhead. And its third spirit, it smells of a delicate sweet body, for the one who is in love, and that
is its love—the poor little flower and the heavy midday sultry heat. The bee, the sun, the sultry heat—now do you understand,
light of my eye?”

Sasha nodded his head silently. His swarthy face was flaming and his long dark eyelashes were trembling.
Lyudmila was gazing dreamily into the distance. She was all flushed and she said:

“It brings joy, that delicate and sunny
cyclamen, it beckons to desires that bring sweet and shameful feelings and it excites the blood. You understand, my little
sun, when something is sweet, joyful and painful and you feel like weeping? Do you understand? That’s the kind of flower it
is.”

She clung to Sasha’s lips with a lingering kiss.

Lyudmila was staring pensively straight ahead. Suddenly a sly grin passed
over her lips. She gave Sasha a gentle nudge and asked:

“Do you like dandelions?”

Sasha sighed, opened his eyes, smiled sweetly
and whispered gently:

“I do.”

“What kind?” Lyudmila asked.

“All kinds, big and small,” Sasha said enthusiastically and stood up from her knees with an adroit
boyish movement.

“So you like dandelions?” Lyudmila asked tenderly and her ringing voice was trembling with concealed laughter.

“I do,” Sasha answered quickly.

Lyudmila started to laugh and blushed.

“Silly, you like dandelions, but you’ve never even
been to a zoo,” she exclaimed.

They both roared with laughter and blushed.

These stimulations—of necessity innocent—represented the principal delight of their affair for Lyudmila. They excited, yet
were far removed from vulgar and repulsive consummation.

They started to argue about who was the stronger. Lyudmila said:

“Well, even if you are stronger, what of it? It’s a matter of agility.”

“I’m agile too!” Sasha boasted.

“Away with you, agile!” Lyudmila cried in a teasing voice.

They argued for a long while. Finally Lyudmila suggested:

“Come on, let’s fight then.”

Sasha laughed and said provocatively:

“You won’t be able to manage me!”

Lyudmila started to tickle him.

“Oh, you!” he cried with laughter, turned around and seized her about the waist.

A tussle began. Lyudmila saw immediately that Sasha was stronger. She couldn’t win by strength, so, cunning as she was, she
waited for the right moment and tripped up Sasha. He fell and pulled Lyudmila down with him. Lyudmila twisted around agilely
and pinned him to the floor. Sasha cried desperately:

“That’s not fair!”

Lyudmila planted her knees on his stomach and pinned him to the floor with her hands. Sasha struggled desperately to break
loose. Lyudmila started to tickle him again. Sasha’s ringing laughter mixed with hers. Laughter finally forced her to release
Sasha. Laughing, she fell to the floor. Sasha leapt to his feet. He was red and piqued.

“Rusalka!
^*
”
he cried.

But the
rusalka
just lay on the floor and laughed.

Lyudmila sat Sasha on her knees. Tired after their struggle they gazed intently and cheerfully into each other’s eyes and
smiled.

“I’m too heavy for you,” Sasha said. “I’ll crush your knees, you’d better let me go.”

“It doesn’t matter, just sit there,” Lyudmila replied affectionately. “You yourself said you liked to cuddle, you know.”

She stroked his head. He pressed tenderly against her. She said:

“How handsome you are, Sasha.”

Sasha blushed and laughed.

“You’re just making it up!” he said.

Conversations and thoughts about beauty dismayed him for some reason when they were applied to him. Never before had he been
curious enough to find out whether people found him attractive or ugly.

Lyudmila pinched Sasha’s cheek. Sasha smiled. The cheek turned red at the spot. It was attractive. Lyudmila pinched the other
cheek as well. Sasha didn’t resist. He simply took her hand, kissed it and said:

“Enough pinching, it hurts, you know, and besides you’ll get callouses on your fingers.”

“Away with you,” Lyudmila said. “It’s
not painful and some flatterer you’ve become.”

“I don’t have any time, I’ve got a lot of lessons to do. Cuddle me just a little
more, for good luck, so that I’ll get a five on my Greek.”

“Sending me packing!” Lyudmila said.

She grabbed him by the arm
and raised his sleeve above his elbow.

“Are you going to wallop me?” Sasha asked, embarrassed and blushing guiltily.

But Lyudmila was admiring his arm, turning it this way and that.

“You have such beautiful arms!” she said loudly and joyfully and suddenly kissed him near the elbow.

Sasha reddened, tried to pull his arm free, but Lyudmila held on to it and kissed it several times more. Sasha grew calm,
languid, and a strange expression settled on his brilliant half-opened lips. And beneath the curtain of his thick eyelashes
his torrid cheeks started to pale.

They parted. Sasha accompanied Lyudmila to the gate. He would have gone farther, but she
didn’t bid him to do so. He stopped by the gate and said:

“Come more often, my dearest, bring me some sweeter spice cakes.”

This was the first time that he had addressed her in the familiar fashion and for Lyudmila it had the echo of a tender caress.
She abruptly embraced him, kissed him and ran off. Sasha stood like one who was stunned.

Sasha had promised to come. The appointed
hour came and went—and there was no Sasha. Lyudmila waited impatiently. She was casting about, fretting and looking out the
window. As soon as steps could be heard in the street she would peer outside. The sisters were chuckling. She said angrily
and excitedly:

“Enough, you! Stop!”

Then she attacked them with stormy reproaches, whereupon they laughed. By then it was
obvious that Sasha was not coming. Lyudmila began to weep from annoyance and grief.

“Oh boo-hoo-hoo! Poor, poor little old
me!” Darya teased her.

Lyudmila, in a burst of grief forgetting to get angry over the fact that she was being teased, said
softly and sobbingly:

“The disgusting old hag wouldn’t let him go, she keeps him tied to her apron strings so that he’ll study
his Greeks.”

With a rather vulgar feeling of sympathy Darya said:

“He must be some kind of lout, doesn’t even know how to
get away.”

“You’ve got yourself involved with a wee babe,” Valeriya said scornfully.

Although both sisters were chuckling, nevertheless they felt sorry for Lyudmila. They all loved one another, with a love that
was tender, but not strong—and a tender love is a superficial love! Darya said:

“What are you crying for, bawling your eyes out for a babe-in-arms? Must have been the devil that got you mixed up with a
kid.”

“What devil are you talking about?” Lyudmila cried vehemently and turned a deep crimson all over.

“Well, old girl,” Darya replied calmly, “you might be young, but still …”

Darya didn’t finish to the end and gave a piercing whistle.

“Nonsense!” Lyudmila said in a strangely ringing voice.

A strange and cruel smile illuminated her face through the tears, just the way a brilliantly flaming ray of light shines through
the final downpour of an exhausted rain at sunset.

Darya asked her with annoyance:

“Well what’s so interesting about him anyway, if you don’t mind telling me, please?”

Still wearing the same amazing smile Lyudmila replied pensively and slowly:

“How handsome he is! And how many inexhaustible possibilities he possesses!”

“Well, that’s cheap to come by,” Darya said conclusively. “All little boys have that.”

“No, it isn’t cheap to come by,” Lyudmila replied with annoyance. “There are vile ones as well.”

“And what’s he, pure?” Valeriya asked. She drawled out the word “pure” in a scornful fashion.

“A lot you understand!” Lyudmila cried, but she immediately began to talk gently and dreamily: “He’s innocent.”