I could not even hear her breathing. The flame of the little

lamp softly flickered, stirred by the draught of fresh air, and

shadows stirred all over the room, even over the motionless wax-like

yellow face of my aunt….

And there was the watch! It was hanging on a little embroidered

cushion on the wall behind the bed. What luck, only think of it!

Nothing to delay me! But whose steps were those, soft and rapid behind

my back? Oh! no! it was my heart beating! … I moved my legs

forward…. Good God! something round and rather large pushed against

me below my knee, once and again! I was ready to scream, I was ready

to drop with horror…. A striped cat, our own cat, was standing

before me arching his back and wagging his tail. Then he leapt on the

bed—softly and heavily—turned round and sat without purring, exactly

like a judge; he sat and looked at me with his golden pupils. «Puss,

puss,» I whispered, hardly audibly. I bent across my aunt, I had

already snatched the watch. She suddenly sat up and opened her eyelids

wide…. Heavenly Father, what next? … but her eyelids quivered and

closed and with a faint murmur her head sank on the pillow.

A minute later I was back again in my own room, in my own bed and the

watch was in my hands….

More lightly than a feather I flew back! I was a fine fellow, I was a

thief, I was a hero, I was gasping with delight, I was hot, I was

gleeful—I wanted to wake David at once to tell him all about it—and,

incredible as it sounds, I fell asleep and slept like the dead! At

last I opened my eyes…. It was light in the room, the sun had risen.

Luckily no one was awake yet. I jumped up as though I had been

scalded, woke David and told him all about it. He listened, smiled.

«Do you know what?» he said to me at last, «let’s bury the silly watch

in the earth, so that it may never be seen again.» I thought his idea

best of all. In a few minutes we were both dressed; we ran out into

the orchard behind our house and under an old apple tree in a deep

hole, hurriedly scooped out in the soft, springy earth with David’s

big knife, my godfather’s hated present was hidden forever, so that it

never got into the hands of the disgusting Trankvillitatin after all!

We stamped down the hole, strewed rubbish over it and, proud and

happy, unnoticed by anyone, went home again, got into our beds and

slept another hour or two—and such a light and blissful sleep!

X

You can imagine the uproar there was that morning, as soon as my aunt

woke up and missed the watch! Her piercing shriek is ringing in my

ears to this day. «Help! Robbed! Robbed!» she squealed, and alarmed

the whole household. She was furious, while David and I only smiled to

ourselves and sweet was our smile to us. «Everyone, everyone must be

well thrashed!» bawled my aunt. «The watch has been stolen from under

my head, from under my pillow!» We were prepared for anything, we

expected trouble…. But contrary to our expectations we did not get

into trouble at all. My father certainly did fume dreadfully at first,

he even talked of the police; but I suppose he was bored with the

enquiry of the day before and suddenly, to my aunt’s indescribable

amazement, he flew out not against us but against her.

«You sicken me worse than a bitter radish, Pelageya Petrovna,» he

shouted, «with your watch. I don’t want to hear any more about it! It

can’t be lost by magic, you say, but what’s it to do with me? It may

be magic for all I care! Stolen from you? Well, good luck to it then!

What will Nastasey Nastasyeitch say? Damnation take him, your

Nastasyeitch! I get nothing but annoyances and unpleasantness from

him! Don’t dare to worry me again! Do you hear?»

My father slammed the door and went off to his own room. David and I

did not at first understand the allusion in his last words; but

afterwards we found out that my father was just then violently

indignant with my godfather, who had done him out of a profitable job.

So my aunt was left looking a fool. She almost burst with vexation,

but there was no help for it. She had to confine herself to repeating

in a sharp whisper, twisting her mouth in my direction whenever she

passed me, «Thief, thief, robber, scoundrel.» My aunt’s reproaches

were a source of real enjoyment to me. It was very agreeable, too, as

I crossed the flower-garden, to let my eye with assumed indifference

glide over the very spot where the watch lay at rest under the

apple-tree; and if David were close at hand to exchange a meaning

grimace with him….

My aunt tried setting Trankvillitatin upon me; but I appealed to

David. He told the stalwart divinity student bluntly that he would rip

up his belly with a knife if he did not leave me alone….

Trankvillitatin was frightened; though, according to my aunt, he was a

grenadier and a cavalier he was not remarkable for valour. So passed

five weeks…. But do you imagine that the story of the watch ended

there? No, it did not; only to continue my story I must introduce a

new character; and to introduce that new character I must go back a

little.

XI

My father had for many years been on very friendly, even intimate

terms with a retired government clerk called Latkin, a lame little man

in poor circumstances with queer, timid manners, one of those

creatures of whom it is commonly said that they are crushed by God

Himself. Like my father and Nastasey, he was engaged in the humbler

class of legal work and acted as legal adviser and agent. But

possessing neither a presentable appearance nor the gift of words and

having little confidence in himself, he did not venture to act

independently but attached himself to my father. His handwriting was

«regular beadwork,» he knew the law thoroughly and had mastered all

the intricacies of the jargon of petitions and legal documents. He had

managed various cases with my father and had shared with him gains and

losses and it seemed as though nothing could shake their friendship,

and yet it broke down in one day and forever. My father quarrelled

with his colleague for good. If Latkin had snatched a profitable job

from my father, after the fashion of Nastasey, who replaced him later

on, my father would have been no more indignant with him than with

Nastasey, probably less. But Latkin, under the influence of an

unexplained, incomprehensible feeling, envy, greed—or perhaps even a

momentary fit of honesty—«gave away» my father, betrayed him to their

common client, a wealthy young merchant, opening this careless young

man’s eyes to a certain—well, piece of sharp practice, destined to

bring my father considerable profit. It was not the money loss,

however great—no—but the betrayal that wounded and infuriated my

father; he could not forgive treachery.

«So he sets himself up for a saint!» he repeated, trembling all over

with anger, his teeth chattering as though he were in a fever. I

happened to be in the room and was a witness of this ugly scene.

«Good. Amen, from today. It’s all over between us. There’s the ikon

and there’s the door! Neither you in my house nor I in yours. You are

too honest for us. How can we keep company with you? But may you have

no house nor home!»

It was in vain that Latkin entreated my father and bowed down before

him; it was in vain that he tried to explain to him what filled his

own soul with painful perplexity. «You know it was with no sort of

profit to myself, Porfiry Petrovitch,» he faltered: «why, I cut my own

throat!» My father remained implacable. Latkin never set foot in our

house again. Fate itself seemed determined to carry out my father’s

last cruel words. Soon after the rupture (which took place two years

before the beginning of my story), Latkin’s wife, who had, it is true,

been ill for a long time, died; his second daughter, a child three

years old, became deaf and dumb in one day from terror; a swarm of

bees had settled on her head; Latkin himself had an apoplectic stroke

and sank into extreme and hopeless poverty. How he struggled on, what

he lived upon—it is hard to imagine. He lived in a dilapidated hovel

at no great distance from our house. His elder daughter Raissa lived

with him and kept house, so far as that was possible. This Raissa is

the character whom I must now introduce into our story.

XII

When her father was on friendly terms with mine, we used to see her

continually. She would sit with us for hours at a time, either sewing,

or spinning with her delicate, rapid, clever fingers. She was a

well-made, rather thin girl, with intelligent brown eyes and a long,

white, oval face. She talked little but sensibly in a soft, musical

voice, barely opening her mouth and not showing her teeth. When she

laughed—which happened rarely and never lasted long—they were all

suddenly displayed, big and white as almonds. I remember her gait, too,

light, elastic, with a little skip at each step. It always seemed to me

that she was going down a flight of steps, even when she was walking on

level ground. She held herself erect with her arms folded tightly over

her bosom. And whatever she was doing, whatever she undertook, if she

were only threading a needle or ironing a petticoat—the effect was

always beautiful and somehow—you may not believe it—touching. Her

Christian name was Raissa, but we used to call her Black-lip: she had

on her upper lip a birthmark; a little dark-bluish spot, as though she

had been eating blackberries; but that did not spoil her: on the

contrary. She was just a year older than David. I cherished for her a

feeling akin to respect, but we were not great friends. But between

her and David a friendship had sprung up, a strange, unchildlike