The Spokane press. [volume] (Spokane, Wash.) 1902-1939, 1906-01-23


while her wide open eyes stared
into space. She never stirred, and
her mute immobility had in it the
shadow of awe. Half frightened, l
thought of speaking to her, but l
didn't know what. She began her
self
what a wretched existence the
like Of us lead!" 1t was not said
in spirit of complaint-there was
far too much Indifference in her
tone for that! AS l agreed with
Natascha, | saw no reason for re-
ply. "If one could only make an
end of it ALL" she continued slow
ly and thoughtfully, again without
shade of regret.
"Who beat your" l asked after a
while.
"Who else but Paschka, my laver
we are to be married next spring.
He thrashes we every time he gets
full of vodka" And she moved
up closer.
She was a servant out of work,
he baker, had a red mustache,
and played delightfully."- on the hur-
dygurdy.
Natascha loved him and gave him
all she earned. He accepted, got
drunk and beat her. The beating
she didn't mind, but that he flirted
with other girls-that was unbear-
able.
This afternoon l found him with
that hussy, Dunky, and upbraided
him. He knocked me down. He
trampled upon me, dragged me
around the sidewalk by my hair.
But that wasn't the worst. He
tore my best suit of clothes-the
only one left, for had to sell the
rest to live. Tore it to tatters,
dress and jacket and headcloth."
The wind blew faster and faster,
colder and colder. Natascha bent
lower under the frost.
MAN Is a beast, all men are
beasts" she observed, after an in
terval, in a matter of fact way, and
her quietude, the absence of violent
anger, or hatred, impressed Inc
more than words can tell.
At that moment l felt two small,
cold hands, one upon my neck, the
other patting my face. And an
anxious, sweet, gently carcssing
voice queried what ails your"
Before I could say ward Nata-
scha continued: care you colI'
May the holy mother of Kasan pro-
test you from freezing - it's
horrible death, they say"
Then, somewhat peremptor'ly:
Answer, Maxim; don't sit there
like an owl"
And again, caressingly: "Now,
confess, what's your trouble? Why
did you lose your place? Was it
for drunkenness, or did you steal
something? A few kopecks, per-
haps, or lump of sugar? You
didn't do it? OF course not, Max
i'm, my boy; of course not"
And so she went on, consoling,
encouraging me. saving my moral
and physical life.
What irony, philosopher of my
imaginary magnitude solaced and
comforted by an -gnorant servant
maid, for, let it be known, at that
period of my life was extremely
busy demonstrating society and
changing the political and ethical
aspects of the world, being at the
same time firmly convinced that
the future belonged to me, and that
was preparing for great his
torical role.
For a while 1t seemed like a
dream, but the raindrops gliding
down my neck told another story.
She continued speaking - spoke
only as a woman can! Under the
influence of her naive and consol-
ing words I felt something burst
within me - the icy crust of ego
tism that held my heart in bond
age. Then I could cry.
Natascha spoke again:
"Stop crying, dearest believe
me, better days are coming, the
Holy Mother loves youth, and |
will pray to her on your behalf;
yes, will. You will get another
job, you will want suit costing 10,
nay, 20 roubles, and high boots.
You will be happy"
And then she kissed me - the
first kiss from girlish lips | ever