Interrupted Stories

who served as his guide, and the Moldavian woman. The old man would have a napkin tied around his neck and be seated at the table, where he would humbly wait until Lev Stepanovich sent him a glass of tincture into which he had poured some water. At the table, the old man dared not ask for anything, nor did he dare refuse anything; he was not even permitted to drink more than two glasses of kvass a fermented, slightly alcoholic grain drink—the hosts drank sour cabbage soup, but for the uncle and aunt, they brought household kvass, as sour as alum. If a melon was served, Lev Stepanovich would carve out the best part and put the rinds on the old man's plate. Marfa Petrovna did the same with the sighted Moldavian woman, adding that it was utter nonsense and almost a sin to think that God had created a melon in such a way that only one edge could be consumed.

In the rare moments when Lev Stepanovich was merry, the blind old man served as the object of all of Lev Stepanovich's jokes and pleasantries. "Well, you are welcome," he would shout, "you are welcome, Father Ksenofont! Hey, Vasilich,"—that is what he called the uncle—"can't you see Father Ksenofont is coming to bless you?" "I cannot see, my dear sir, I cannot see," the blind man would answer, "but here, from the right side..." and he would send Tit to bless the old man, and the latter would catch his hand. Lev Stepanovich would laugh until he cried, never guessing that the funniest part of this comedy was that the old man, who had lost his wits,

with the sharpness of hearing common to all blind people, knew very well that Father Ksenofont had not entered and was only pretending to be deceived for the pleasure of his patron. But the height of enjoyment for Stolygin consisted of piling something non-Lenten onto the old man’s plate on a fast day, and when the latter ate it with a clear conscience, he would ask him, "What is this? In your old age, have you converted to the Turkish faith in Moldavia, or on what day are you eating non-Lenten food?" The old man would have spasms, he would cry, rinse his mouth, and fall ill—this greatly amused Stolygin.

Sometimes Lev Stepanovich would awaken in the old man something resembling a sense of human dignity, and he would, in a trembling voice, remind Lev Stepanovich that it was sinful to offend a blind man and that he was, after all, a nobleman and a premier major by rank. "Your Highborn," Stolygin would answer, whose blood would rush to his face from such insolent opposition, "why don't you go to the regiment? Well, I have not pleased you; forgive me magnanimously, but it is too late for me to relearn; I am past that age. And what of it? I am not holding you on a leash; go off to Moldavia to your wife's estate."

"Lev Stepanovich," Marfa Petrovna would timidly add, "after all, however it may be, he is my uncle and your relative."

"Indeed, is that so?" the even more enraged Stolygin would retort. "Tell me, please, what news! Do you know that if he were not your uncle, he would not be sitting at my table, let alone under it?" The frightened major's wife would tug at her husband's sleeve and begin to cry, asking him to forgive the foolish blind man who did not know how to appreciate benefits. Tears would also flow down the old man's cheeks, but they were very pitiful tears; he looked like a helpless child being bullied by a rude and drunken crowd.