He often recalled Pelageya, and at first he felt melancholy whenever her image flashed before his imagination. But time went on, and little by little rubbed off the bright colours of this woman; and before he was aware of it his thoughts were occupied by the slender, angel-like Medinskaya. She used to come up to Ignat almost every Sunday with various requests, all of which generally had but one aim--to hasten the building of the lodging-asylum. In her presence Foma felt awkward, huge, heavy; this pained him, and he blushed deeply under the endearing look of Sophya Pavlovna's large eyes. He noticed that every time she looked at him, her eyes would grow darker, while her upper lip would tremble and raise itself slightly, thus displaying very small white teeth. This always frightened him. When his father noticed how steadfastly he was staring at Medinskaya he told him one day:
"Don't be staring so much at that face. Look out, she is like a birch ember: from the outside it is just as modest, smooth and dark--altogether cold to all appearances--but take it into your hand and it will burn you."Medinskaya did not kindle in the youth any sensual passion, for there was nothing in her that resembled Pelageya, and altogether she was not at all like other women. He knew that shameful rumours about her were in the air, but he did not believe any of them. But his relations to her were changed when he noticed her one day in a carriage beside a stout man in a gray hat and with long hair falling over his shoulders.
His face was like a bladder--red and bloated; he had neither moustache nor beard, and altogether he looked like a woman in disguise. Foma was told that this was her husband. Then dark and contradicting feelings sprang up within him: he felt like insulting the architect, and at the same time he envied and respected him. Medinskaya now seemed to him less beautiful and more accessible; he began to feel sorry for her, and yet he thought malignantly:
"She must surely feel disgusted when he kisses her."And after all this he sometimes perceived in himself some bottomless and oppressive emptiness, which could not be filled up by anything--neither by the impressions of the day just gone by nor by the recollection of the past; and the Exchange, and his affairs, and his thoughts of Medinskaya--all were swallowed up by this emptiness. It alarmed him: in the dark depth of this emptiness he suspected some hidden existence of a hostile power, as yet formless but already carefully and persistently striving to become incarnate.
In the meantime Ignat, changing but little outwardly, was growing ever more restless and querulous and was complaining more often of being ill.
"I lost my sleep. It used to be so sound that even though you had torn off my skin, I would not have felt it. While now I toss about from side to side, and I fall asleep only toward morning. And every now and then I awaken. My heart beats unevenly, now, though tired out; often thus: tuk-tuk-tuk. And sometimes it sinks of a sudden--and it seems as though it would soon tear itself away and fall somewhere into the deep;into the bosom. 0h Lord, have pity upon me through Thy great mercy."And heaving a penitent sigh, he would lift heavenward his stern eyes, grown dim now, devoid of their bright, sparkling glitter.
"Death keeps an eye on me somewhere close by," he said one day morosely, but humbly. And indeed, it soon felled his big, sturdy body to the ground.
This happened in August, early in the morning. Foma was sound asleep when suddenly he felt somebody shaking him by the shoulder, and a hoarse voice called at his ear:
"Get up."
He opened his eyes and saw that his father was seated in a chair near his bed, monotonously repeating in a dull voice:
"Get up, get up."
The sun had just risen, and its light, falling on Ignat's white linen shirt, had not yet lost its rosy tints.
"It's early," said Foma, stretching himself.
"Well, you'll sleep enough later."
Lazily muffling himself in the blanket, Foma asked:
"Why do you need me?"
"Get up, dear, will you, please?" exclaimed Ignat, adding, somewhat offended: "It must be necessary, since I am waking you."When Foma looked closely at his father's face, he noticed that it was gray and weary.
"Are you ill? "
"Slightly."
"Shall we send for a doctor?"
"The devil take him!" Ignat waved his hand. "I am not a young man any longer. I know it as well without him.""What?"
"Oh, I know it!" said the old man, mysteriously, casting a strange glance around the room. Foma was dressing himself, and his father, with lowered head, spoke slowly:
"I am afraid to breathe. Something tells me that if I should now heave a deep sigh, my heart would burst. Today is Sunday! After the morning mass is over, send for the priest.""What are you talking about, papa?" Foma smiled.
