Fifty-Two Stories

During his previous visits, Volodya had also busied himself with preparing the Christmas tree or had run out to the yard to see the coachman and the shepherd piling up the snow, but this time he and Lentilkin paid no attention to the colored paper and did not go to the stable even once, but sat by the window and started whispering about something; then the two of them opened a geographical atlas and started studying some map.

“First to Perm…,” Lentilkin said in a low voice, “…from there to Tyumen…then Tomsk…then…to Kamchatka…From there the Samoyeds² will take us in a boat across the Bering Strait…And there’s America for you…They’ve got a lot of fur-bearing animals.”

“And California?” asked Volodya.

“California’s further down…Just get to America, and California’s right around the corner. We can provide for ourselves by hunting and robbery.”

Lentilkin avoided the girls all day and looked at them mistrustfully. After the evening tea it happened that he was left alone with them for five minutes. It was awkward to be silent. He cleared his throat sternly, rubbed his left arm with his right palm, glanced sullenly at Katya, and asked:

“Have you read Mayne Reid?”³

“No, I haven’t…Listen, do you know how to skate?”

Immersed in his thoughts, Lentilkin made no reply to this question, and only puffed his cheeks and sighed, as if he felt very hot. He raised his eyes to Katya and said:

“When a herd of bison runs across the pampas, the earth trembles, and then the mustangs get frightened, kick, and whinny…”

Lentilkin smiled sadly and added:

“And the Indians also attack trains. But worst of all are the mosquitoes and termites.”

“What are they?”

“They’re like ants, but with wings. They bite very painfully. Do you know who I am?”

“Mr. Lentilkin.”

“No. I’m Montigomo Hawk’s Claw, chief of the invincibles.”

Masha, the smallest of the girls, looked at him, then at the window, outside which evening was descending, and said pensively:

“And yesterday they cooked lentils for us.”

Lentilkin’s totally incomprehensible words, and that he constantly whispered with Volodya, and that Volodya did not play but kept thinking about something—all this was mysterious and strange. And the two older girls, Katya and Sonya, began to keep a sharp eye on the boys. In the evening, when the boys were going to bed, the girls crept up to the door and eavesdropped on their conversation. Oh, what they found out! The boys were going to run away to America somewhere to dig for gold; they had everything ready for the journey: a pistol, two knives, rusks, a magnifying glass to start a fire, a compass, and four roubles in cash. They learned that the boys were to go several thousand miles on foot, fighting tigers and savages on the way, then dig for gold and hunt for ivory, kill enemies, become sea robbers, drink gin, and finally marry beauties and cultivate plantations. Volodya and Lentilkin talked enthusiastically, interrupting each other. Lentilkin called himself “Montigomo Hawk’s Claw” and Volodya “my paleface brother.”

“Watch yourself, don’t tell Mama,” Katya said to Sonya as they were going to bed. “Volodya will bring us gold and ivory from America, and if you tell Mama, he won’t be allowed to go.”

Lentilkin spent the whole day before Christmas Eve studying the map of Asia and writing things down, while Volodya, languid, puffy, as if stung by a bee, sullenly paced the rooms and ate nothing. Once, in the children’s room, he even stopped in front of an icon, crossed himself, and said:

“Lord, forgive me, a sinner! Lord, watch over my poor, unhappy mama!”

In the evening he burst into tears. On going to bed, he spent a long time embracing his father, mother, and sisters. Katya and Sonya understood what it was all about, but the youngest, Masha, understood nothing, decidedly nothing, and, looking at Lentilkin, only pondered, and said with a sigh:

“When it’s Lent, nanny says, we should eat peas and lentils.”

Early in the morning of Christmas Eve, Katya and Sonya quietly got out of bed and went to see how the boys would run away to America. They crept up to the door.

“So you won’t go?” Lentilkin asked angrily. “Speak: you won’t go?”

“Lord!” Volodya wept quietly. “How can I go? I feel sorry for Mama.”

“My paleface brother, I beg you, let’s go! You assured me you’d go, you enticed me, and when the time comes to go you turn coward!”

“I…I haven’t turned coward, but I…I feel sorry for Mama.”

“Just tell me: will you go or not?”

“I’ll go, only…only wait. I want to live at home for a while.”

“In that case I’ll go by myself!” Lentilkin decided. “I’ll manage without you. And you, who wanted to hunt tigers, to fight! If that’s how it is, give me back my percussion caps.”

Volodya wept so bitterly that the sisters could not bear it and also quietly wept. Silence ensued.

“So you’re not going?” Lentilkin asked once more.

“I…I’m going.”

“Get dressed, then!”