CHAPTER III
Now when Serge had been six months in the house of Madame
Vasselitch, Ivan Ivanovitch, his father, sent Itch, the
serving man, and Yump, the cook, his wife, to Moscow to
see how Serge fared. And Ivan first counted out rubles
into a bag, "ten, and ten and still ten," till Itch said,
"It is enough. I will carry that."
Then they made ready to go. Itch took a duck from the
pond and put a fish in his pocket, together with a fragrant
cheese and a bundle of sweet garlic. And Yump took oil
and dough and mixed it with tar and beat it with an iron
bar so as to shape it into a pudding.
So they went forth on foot, walking till they came to
Moscow.
"It is a large place," said Itch, and he looked about
him at the lights and the people.
"Defend us," said Yump. "It is no place for a woman."
"Fear nothing," said Itch, looking at her.
So they went on, looking for the house of Madame Vasselitch.
"How bright the lights are!" said Itch, and he stood
still and looked about him. Then he pointed at a burleski,
or theatre. "Let us go in there and rest," he said.
"No," said Yump, "let us hurry on."
"You are tired," said Itch. "Give me the pudding and
hurry forward, so that you may sleep. I will come later,
bringing the pudding and the fish."
"I am not tired," said Yump.
So they came at last to the house of Madame Vasselitch.
And when they saw Serge they said, "How tall he is and
how well grown!" But they thought, "He is pale. Ivan
Ivanoviteh must know."
And Itch said, "Here are the rubles sent by Ivan Ivanovitch.
Count them, little son, and see that they are right."
"How many should there be?" said Serge.
"I know not," said Itch. "You must count them and see."
Then Yump said, "Here is a pudding, little son, and a
fish, and a duck and a cheese and garlic."
So that night Itch and Yump stayed in the house of Madame
Vasselitch.
"You are tired," said Itch. "You must sleep."
"I am not tired," said Yump. "It is only that my head
aches and my face burns from the wind and the sun."
"I will go forth," said Itch, "and find a fisski, or
drug-store, and get something for your face."
"Stay where you are," said Yump. And Itch stayed.
Meantime Serge had gone upstairs with the fish and the
duck and the cheese and the pudding. As he went up he
thought. "It is selfish to eat alone. I will give part
of the fish to the others." And when he got a little
further up the steps he thought, "I will give them all
of the fish." And when he got higher still he thought,
"They shall have everything."
Then he opened the door and came into the big room where
the students were playing with matches at the big table
and drinking golgol out of cups. "Here is food, brothers,"
he said. "Take it. I need none."
The students took the food and they cried, "Rah, Rah,"
and beat the fish against the table. But the pudding they
would not take. "We have no axe," they said. "Keep it."
Then they poured out golgol for Serge and said, "Drink it."
But Serge would not.
"I must work," he said, and all the students laughed.
"He wants to work!" they cried. "Rah, Rah."
But Serge went up to his room and lighted his taper, made
of string dipped in fat, and set himself to study. "I
must work," he repeated.
So Serge sat at his books. It got later and the house
grew still. The noise of the students below ceased and
then everything was quiet.
Serge sat working through the night. Then presently it
grew morning and the dark changed to twilight and Serge
could see from his window the great building with the
barred windows across the street standing out in the grey
mist of the morning.
Serge had often studied thus through the night and when
it was morning he would say, "It is morning," and would
go down and help Madame Vasselitch unbar the iron shutters
and unchain the door, and remove the bolts from the window
casement.
But on this morning as Serge looked from his window his
eyes saw a figure behind the barred window opposite to
him. It was the figure of a girl, and she was kneeling
on the floor and she was in prayer, for Serge could see
that her hands were before her face. And as he looked
all his blood ran warm to his head, and his limbs trembled
even though he could not see the girl's face. Then the
girl rose from her knees and turned her face towards the
bars, and Serge knew that it was Olga Ileyitch and that
she had seen and known him.
Then he came down the stairs and Madame Vasselitch was
there undoing the shutters and removing the nails from
the window casing.
"What have you seen, little son?" she asked, and her
voice was gentle, for the face of Serge was pale and his
eyes were wide.
But Serge did not answer the question.
"What is that house?" he said. "The great building with
the bars that you call the house of the dead?"
"Shall I tell you, little son," said Madame Vasselitch,
and she looked at him, still thinking. "Yes," she said,
"he shall know.
"It is the prison of the condemned, and from there they
go forth only to die. Listen, little son," she went on,
and she gripped Serge by the wrist till he could feel
the bones of her fingers against his flesh. "There lay
my husband, Vangorod Vasselitch, waiting for his death.
Months long he was there behind the bars and no one might
see him or know when he was to die. I took this tall
house that I might at least be near him till the end.
But to those who lie there waiting for their death it is
allowed once and once only that they may look out upon
the world. And this is allowed to them the day before
they die. So I took this house and waited, and each day
I looked forth at dawn across the street and he was not
there. Then at last he came. I saw him at the window and
his face was pale and set and I could see the marks of
the iron on his wrists as he held them to the bars. But
I could see that his spirit was unbroken. There was no
power in them to break that. Then he saw me at the window,
and thus across the narrow street we said good-bye. It
was only a moment. 'Sonia Vasselitch,' he said, 'do not
forget,' and he was gone. I have not forgotten. I have
lived on here in this dark house, and I have not forgotten.
My sons--yes, little brother, my sons, I say--have not
forgotten. Now tell me, Sergius Ivanovitch, what you have
seen."
"I have seen the woman that I love," said Serge, "kneeling
behind the bars in prayer. I have seen Olga Ileyitch."
"Her name," said Madame Vasselitch, and there were no
tears in her eyes and her voice was calm, "her name is
Olga Vasselitch. She is my daughter, and to-morrow she
is to die."
