Online reading of the book Thomas Gordeev V
Foma's ambivalent attitude toward Mayakin grew stronger: listening to his speeches attentively and with greedy curiosity, he felt that every meeting with his godfather increased his feelings of hostility towards the old man. Sometimes the godfather aroused in the godson a feeling close to fear, sometimes even physical disgust. The latter usually appeared to Thomas when the old man was pleased with something and was laughing. The old man's wrinkles trembled with laughter, changing his facial expression every second; his dry and thin lips jumped, stretched and exposed black fragments of teeth, and his red beard seemed to be blazing with fire, and the sound of laughter was like the squeal of rusty hinges. Unable to hide his feelings, Foma often and very rudely expressed them to Mayakin, but the old man did not seem to notice the rudeness and, without taking his eyes off his godson, guided his every step. He almost never went to his shop, completely immersing himself in the shipping affairs of young Gordeev and leaving Foma a lot of free time. Thanks to Mayakin’s importance in the city and wide acquaintances on the Volga, the matter was going brilliantly, but Mayakin’s zealous attitude to the matter strengthened Foma’s confidence that his godfather had firmly decided to marry him to Lyuba, and this pushed him even more away from the old man.
He both liked Lyuba and seemed dangerous. She did not get married, and her godfather did not say anything about it, did not organize parties, did not invite any of the young people to his place and did not let Lyuba go anywhere. And all her friends were already married... Foma was surprised at her speeches and listened to them as eagerly as the speeches of her father; but when she began to talk about Taras with love and longing, it seemed to him that under this name she was hiding another person, perhaps the same Yezhov, who, according to her, for some reason had to leave the university and leave Moscow. There was a lot of simple and kind things in her that Foma liked, and often with her speeches she aroused self-pity in him: it seemed to him that she was not living, but was delirious in reality.
His antics at his father's funeral spread among the merchants and created an unflattering reputation for him. When he was at the stock exchange, he noticed that everyone looked at him unkindly and spoke to him in a special way. Once he even heard a quiet but contemptuous exclamation behind him:
- Gordionishko! Baby...
He did not turn around to see who said these words. Rich people, who at first aroused timidity in him before them, lost their charm in his eyes. More than once they had snatched one or another profitable delivery from his hands; he clearly saw that they would continue to do this; they all seemed to him equally greedy for money, always ready to deceive each other. When he reported his observation to his godfather, the old man said:
- What about it? Trade is like war—it’s a matter of gambling. Here they fight for a bag, and in the bag is the soul...
“I don’t like this,” Foma said.
- And I don’t like everything - there’s a lot of falsehood! But it is absolutely impossible to go straight in the trade business; politics is needed here! Here, brother, when approaching a person, hold honey in your left hand and a knife in your right.
“This is not very good,” Foma said thoughtfully.
- It’s good - it will be further... When you gain the upper hand, then it’s good... Life, brother Thomas, is very simple: either bite everyone, or lie in the mud...
The old man smiled, and the fragments of teeth in his mouth evoked a sharp thought in Foma: “Apparently, you have bitten many to death...”
- Is there nothing better? It's all here?
- Where - except? Everyone wants the best for themselves... But what is it, better? Go ahead of people, stand above them. So everyone is trying to achieve the first place in life... some this way, some that way... but everyone definitely wants to be visible from afar, like bell towers. This is what man is destined for, for exaltation... Even in the book of Job this is expressed: “Man is born into suffering, like sparks, to rush upward.” Look: kids always want to outdo each other in games. And every game always has its own high point, which is what makes it interesting... Do you understand?
- I understand it! - said Foma.
- You have to feel it... You can’t jump anywhere with just one concept, and you can still wish, so wish that the mountain is a hummock for you, the sea is a puddle for you! Eh! I used to live playfully at your age! And you're still aiming...
The old man's monotonous speeches soon achieved what they were intended for: Thomas listened to them and understood the purpose of life. You need to be better than others, he insisted, and the ambition excited by the old man ate deep into his heart... It ate, but did not fill it, for Thomas’s relationship with Medynskaya took on the character that it was fatally destined to take. He was drawn to her, he always wanted to see her, but with her he became timid, became clumsy, stupid, he knew it and suffered from it. He visited her often, but it was difficult to find her at home alone: scented dandies were always hovering around her, like flies over a lump of sugar. They spoke to her in French, sang, laughed, but he was silent and looked at them, full of anger and envy. With his legs crossed, he sat somewhere in the corner of her motley decorated living room and watched gloomily.
In front of him, on the soft carpets, she silently flashed, throwing affectionate glances and smiles at him, her admirers hovered behind her, and they all so deftly, like snakes, walked around the various tables, chairs, screens - a whole store of beautiful and fragile things scattered around room with carelessness equally dangerous for them and for Thomas. When he walked, the carpet did not muffle his steps, and all these things clung to his coat, shook, and fell. There was a bronze sailor near the piano, swinging his hand to throw a lifebuoy; there were wire ropes hanging on the circle, and they constantly pulled Thomas by the hair. All this aroused laughter from Sofia Pavlovna and her admirers, but it cost Foma very dearly, throwing him either into the heat or into the cold.
But it was no easier for him to be alone with her. Greeting him with a gentle smile, she sat down with him in one of the cozy corners of the living room and usually began the conversation by bending like a cat and looking into his eyes with a dark gaze in which something greedy flashed.
“I love talking to you so much,” she sang, drawing out her words musically. I'm tired of all these... they're boring, ordinary, worn out. And you are fresh, sincere. You don't like them either, do you?
- Hate! - Foma answered firmly.
- What about me? - she asked quietly. Foma looked away and, sighing, said:
- How many times do you ask this...
- Is it difficult for you to say?
- It’s not difficult... but why?
- I need to know this...
“You’re playing with me...” Foma said gloomily. And she opened her eyes wide and asked in a tone of deep amazement:
- How do I play? What does it mean to play? And her face was so angelic that he could not help but believe her.
- I love you, I love you! Is it possible not to love you? - he said heatedly, and immediately added in a lowered voice with sadness: - But you don’t need this!..
- That's what you said! - Medynskaya sighed with satisfaction and moved away from him. “I’m always terribly pleased to hear you say this... young, whole... Do you want to kiss my hand?”
He silently grabbed her white, thin hand and, carefully bending towards her, kissed her warmly and for a long time. She pulled her hand away, smiling, graceful, but not in the least excited by his ardor. Thoughtfully, with that sparkle in her eyes that always confused Foma, she looked at him as something rare, extremely curious, and said:
- How much health, strength, spiritual freshness you have... You know - after all, you, merchants, are a tribe that has not yet lived at all, a whole tribe with original traditions, with enormous energy of soul and body... Here you are, for example: after all, you are a precious stone, and if polish you... oh!
When she said: “In your opinion, it’s like a merchant’s,” it seemed to Foma that with these words she seemed to push him away from her. It was both sad and offensive. He was silent, looking at her small figure, always somehow especially beautifully dressed, always fragrant like a flower, and girlishly tender. Sometimes a wild and rude desire flared up in him to grab her and kiss her. But the beauty and this fragility of her thin and flexible body aroused in him the fear of breaking, mutilating her, and her calm, gentle voice and clear, but as if lurking gaze cooled his impulses: it seemed to him that she was looking straight into his soul and understood all his thoughts... These outbursts of feeling were rare, but in general the young man treated Medynskaya with adoration, marveling at everything about her - her beauty, her speeches, her clothes. And next to this adoration, there always lived in him a painfully acute awareness of his distance from her, her superiority over him.
They established such a relationship quickly; in two or three meetings Medynskaya completely mastered the young man and began to slowly torture him. She must have enjoyed power over a healthy, strong guy, liked to awaken and tame the beast in him with just her voice and gaze, and she enjoyed playing with him, confident in the strength of her power. He left her half-sick from excitement, carrying away resentment towards her and anger towards himself. And two days later he appeared again for torture.
One day he timidly asked her:
- Sofya Pavlovna!.. Did you have children?
- No…
- I knew it! - Foma cried joyfully. She looked at him with the eyes of a very small and naive girl and said:
- Why did you know this? And why do you need to know if I had children?
Foma blushed, bowed his head and began to speak to her in a muffled voice, as if pushing words out of the ground, and each word weighed several pounds.
- You see... if a woman who... that is, gave birth, then her eyes... are not at all like that...
- Yes? Which ones?
- Shameless! - Foma thumped. Medynskaya laughed her silvery laugh, and Foma, looking at her, laughed.
- Forgive me! - he said finally. “I may have said something bad... indecently...
- Oh, no, no! You can't say anything inappropriate... you are a pure, sweet boy. So, my eyes aren't shameless?
-You look like an angel! - Foma declared enthusiastically, looking at her with a shining gaze.
And she looked at him in a way she had not looked at before - with the look of a woman-mother, the sad look of love, mixed with fear for her beloved.
“Go, my dear... I’m tired and want to rest...” she told him, getting up and not looking at him.
He resignedly left.
For some time after this incident, she behaved with him more strictly and honestly, as if pitying him, but then the relationship again took the form of a game of cat and mouse.
Foma's relationship with Medynskaya could not hide from his godfather, and one day the old man, making a malicious face, asked him:
- Foma! Feel your head more often so that you don’t accidentally lose it.
- What are you talking about? - asked Foma.
- And about Sonya, you go to her too often.
- What do you want? - Foma said rudely. - And what is Sonya like for you?
“It’s okay for me, it won’t hurt me because you’re gnawed.” And everyone knows that her name is Sonya... And everyone knows that she likes to rake in the heat with someone else’s hands.
- She's smart! - Foma declared firmly, frowning and hiding his hands in his pockets. Educated...
- Smart, that's true! Educated... She educates you... Especially the skanks who are around her...
- Not naughty people, but... smart people too! - Foma objected angrily, already contradicting himself. - And I learn from them... What am I doing? Neither play the pipe, nor dance... What was I taught? And there they talk about everything... everyone has their say. Don’t stop me from being like a human being.
- Eww! How did you learn to speak! That is, like hail on the roof... angrily! Well, okay, be like a person... only for this it is safer to go to the tavern; there people are still better than Sophia's - And you, guy, would still learn to sort people out, who is what... For example - Sophia... What is she depicting? Insects to decorate nature and nothing more!
Indignant to the core, Foma clenched his teeth and walked away from Mayakin, thrusting his hands even deeper into his pockets. But the old man soon started talking about Medynskaya again.
They were returning from the backwater after inspecting the steamers and, sitting in a huge and calm cart, were talking friendly and animatedly about business. It was in March: the water was sobbing under the runners of the sleigh, the snow had almost melted, the sun was shining cheerfully and warmly in the clear sky.
- When you arrive, will you go to your lady first? - Mayakin suddenly asked, interrupting the business conversation.
“I’ll go,” Foma answered dissatisfied.
- Mm... Tell me, do you often give her gifts? - Mayakin asked simply and somehow sincerely.
- Which presents? For what? - Foma was surprised.
- Don’t give it away? Look... Is she really living with you just like that, out of love?
Foma flushed with anger and shame, turned abruptly to the old man and said reproachfully:
- Eh! You’re an old man, but when you talk, it’s embarrassing to listen to! Will she really do that?
Mayakin smacked his lips and sang in a sad voice:
- What a fool you are! What a fool! - and, suddenly becoming angry, spat. - Fie! All the cattle drank from the pot, the scum remained, and the fool made a god out of a dirty pot!.. Wow! You go to her and say directly: “I want to be your lover, I’m a young man, don’t take it dearly.”
- Godfather! - Foma said gloomily and menacingly. - I can’t listen to this. If only someone else...
- Who, besides me, will guard you? And ba-a-tyush-ki! - Mayakin yelled, throwing up his hands. “Is she the one who has been leading you by the nose all winter?” Well, but-os! Oh, she's a bitch!
The old man was indignant; his voice contained annoyance, anger, even tears. Foma had never seen him like this before and involuntarily remained silent.
- After all, she will spoil you! Ah, the harlot of Babylon!..
Mayakin's eyes blinked rapidly, his lips trembled, and in rude, cynical words he began to talk about Medynskaya, excitedly, with an angry squeal.
Foma felt that the old man was telling the truth. It became difficult for him to breathe.
“Okay, dad, it will be…” he asked quietly and sadly, turning away from Mayakin.
- Eh, you need to get married soon! - the old man cried out in alarm.
- For Christ's sake, don't talk! - Foma said dully.
Mayakin looked at his godson and fell silent. Foma's face stretched out, turned pale, and there was a lot of heavy and bitter amazement in his half-open lips and in his longing gaze... To the right and left of the road lay a field covered with shreds of winter clothes. Rooks hopped busily across the black thawed patches. Water sobbed under the runners, dirty snow flew out from under the horses’ feet...
- What a stupid man in his youth! - Mayakin exclaimed quietly. A tree stump stands in front of him, and he sees the beast’s face... oh-ho-ho!
“Speak in straight words,” Foma said gloomily.
- What can I say? The point is clear: girls are cream, women are milk; the women are close, the girls are far away... therefore, go to Sonya, if you can’t do without it, and tell her directly - so, so, so... Fool! Why are you sulking? Why are you puffed up?
“You don’t understand...” Foma said quietly.
-What don’t I understand? I understand!
“Hearts, man has a heart!” the young man said quietly.
Mayakin narrowed his eyes and answered:
- So there is no mind...
