The Slynx

ON

You couldn't see the terem of Olenka's family from the street. The fence was high and deep, with sharp spikes on top. There was a gate in the middle. In the gate was a stone ring. To one side of the gate was a booth. In the booth was a serf.

When Benedikt proposed to Olenka, he told her he wanted to send matchmakers ahead of him. It was easier that way-the matchmakers would say everything that needed to be said about you, make a deal, settle everything. They'd praise you to the skies behind your back: he's so this and so that, they'd say, and you should see him do this, he's not a man, he's a rose in bloom, a fleet falcon. But Olenka objected: No, no. No matchmakers, we're a modern family… don't send them. Just come yourself. We'll sit and chat of this and that. We'll eat…

He took some presents: a string of mice, a jug of kvas-so as not to go empty-handed-and a bouquet of bluebells.

Everything was going right. But he was nervous. What would happen?

He went up to the gate and stood there. The serf came out of the booth, irritated.

"Who do you want?"

"I'm Olga Kudeyarovna's co-worker."

"By appointment?"

"By appointment."

"Wait here."

The serf returned to the booth and rustled some bark for a long time.

"What's your name?"

Benedikt told him. The serf rustled something again.

"Go in."

He opened a small gate in the fence and Benedikt entered. There was another fence about five yards from the first. And another booth with a serf, even more irritated than the first.

"Who do you want?"

"I'm Olga Kudeyarovna's co-worker."

"What've you got there?"

"Presents."

"Hand over the presents."

"Why… how… I was invited, how can I go without presents?"

"Hand over the presents and sign here." The serf didn't even seem to hear Benedikt. He unrolled the bark and wrote: "Mice -one dozen ordinary household. Kvas, small wooden jug- one. Blue wildflowers-one bunch."

Benedikt suddenly balked. He got mad. "I won't hand over the flowers!!! You have no right!!! I was personally invited by Olga Kudeyarovna!!!"

Before signing, he crossed out "flowers."

The serf thought for a moment. "Go to the dogs. Go on, get outta here."

How mean he put it-"to the dogs." But he let him in. They let him through the second fence-and then there was a third. Two serfs rose from the bench at the third gate and without saying a word, bad or good, they patted Benedikt all over. They wanted to see if he had hidden something in his pants or under his shirt. But the only extra thing he had was a tail.

"Go on."

Benedikt thought there would be another fence, but no, there wasn't, instead an enormous garden opened up with trees and flowers and all kinds of huts and sheds and little paths of yellowish sand. At the back of the garden stood the terem. Benedikt hadn't been really scared before, but now he was petrified: he'd never seen such wealth and magnificence. His heart thudded and his tail wagged back and forth, back and forth. His eyes clouded over. He didn't remember how they led him into the house.

The serfs brought him and left him alone in a room. Some time passed and he heard a scraping sound behind the doors. There was more scraping, the doors opened-and He Himself came out. Olenka's Papa. The owner of all this. His future father-in-law.

He smiled. "Welcome. We're expecting you. Benedikt Karp-ich? My name is Kudeyar Kudeyarich."

And he looked at him. Benedikt looked back. But he couldn't move-his legs seemed rooted to the floor.

Kudeyar Kudeyarich was big-that is, long and tall. His neck was long, and his head was small. The top of his head was sort of bald, and around his bald spot there was a pale crown of fair hair. He had no beard, and a long, sticklike mouth, whose corners seemed to turn down. He kept opening and closing his mouth as though he wasn't used to breathing and had decided he'd try it out every which way. His eyes were round and yellow, like firelings, and at the bottom of his eyes there seemed to be a light burning.

He was wearing a big white shirt, unbelted. His britches were wide, even wider at the bottom. He wore plain old house lapty on his feet.

"Why are you standing there, Benedikt Karpich? Come and sit down at the table."

He took Benedikt by the elbow and moved him into another chamber. The table was set. Wooow! There was so much food! From one end to the other-bowls and more bowls, all kinds of dishes, pots and plates! Countless pies, bliny, pancakes, twist rolls, pretzels, colored noodles! And peas! And sheaves of pickled horsetail set in the corners! And the marshrooms… bucket-fuls, brimming over, any minute they would jump off the edge. And whole birds, tiny ones wrapped in dough: the legs stuck out at one end and the head at the other! And in the middle of the table-a roast. Whoa, a goat! They've got a whole goat on the table, and they had to raise that goat too! So the serfs had been right to take away his gifts: what was he doing with a bunch of mice when there was a whole goat!

Olenka sat at the table all decked out, her cheeks rouged, her eyes lowered. That's the way Benedikt saw her in his visions, sitting like that: wearing a white blouse, her neck wound with beads, her hair combed smoothly, a ribbon on her brow! And as soon as Benedikt entered the dining room, Olenka blushed even redder. She didn't lift her eyes, but smiled to herself.

Yikes!

And on the other side of the dining room another door opened and his mother-in-law came in. Rather, floated in: the woman was wide as a house, half of her was in the dining room saying hello while the other half hadn't even made it through the door, you had to wait.

"And this," his father-in-law said, "is our wife, Fevronia. One of the oldest families, descended from the French."

"That's the family legend," said his mother-in-law.

Benedikt bowed with one hand, presented the bouquet of bluebells with the other, and fell at his mother-in-law's feet.

"The vittles are getting cold," said his mother-in-law. "Eat up, don't be shy."

They sat down on the benches. Benedikt opposite Olenka, Father- and Mother-in-law side by side.

"Help yourself," said his mother-in-law.

Benedikt felt shy again: how could he restrain himself? If he took a lot they'd think: "Oh, what a glutton! Probably can't ever feed him enough!" And if he took too little, they'd think: "Oh, what a weak son-in-law! Probably can't even drive a nail in." Should he take a little meat pie? He stretched out a hand for the pie, and everyone looked at his hand. He jerked it back.

"We like to eat a lot," said his mother-in-law. And she served herself. So did Kudeyar Kudeyarich. And Olenka. Benedikt stretched out his hand again-to the pancakes. Everyone stared again. He jerked it back once more.

They chewed.

"So," said his father-in-law, "it seems you want to get married."

"I do."

They chewed in silence some more. For the third time Benedikt thought of helping himself to something, but as soon as he'd raised his hand they all stared at it! A fire seemed to flare in the father's eyes. What was going on?

"Getting married is serious business… When I married my wife, Fevronia, that's what I told her: This is serious business."

"That's right, we ate a lot at the wedding," said the mother.

"We ate very well at the wedding," said the father.

Was this a hint? Benedikt's tail began to tap lightly against the bench from anxiety.

"Why aren't you eating?" said the mother again.

Oh, well, what would be would be. He reached out, grabbed a goat leg and plopped it down on his plate, and added noodles on top. And horsetail. As soon as he'd done it, a light flared in all their eyes again, like a lantern.

"So that means you want to join our family," said the father.

"I do."

"Not afraid of family problems, then, are you? Running a house is harder than catching a mouse, as the saying goes."

"I'm not afraid. I'm handy at a lot of things."

"A lot of things?"

"Uh huh."

Something scrabbled under the table. Must be a mouse.

"And what if it's serious business?"

"I'm ready. Sure."

"Oh ho!"

Once again it grew lighter around the table. Benedikt made himself lift his head and look-there was definitely something shining in the father's eyes. As though a fireling was glowing. And in the dining room-the evening had already turned to twilight-rays of light shone from his eyes. Like from a torch, if you look at it through a fist: you roll your hand up in a fist and look through it. Like a moonlit path. The father was looking at his plate, and even though it was twilight, you could see everything on it. When he looked at the table-it was like it was lit up by fire. When he looked at Benedikt he gave off even more light, so bright that Benedikt blinked and jerked his head away.

Olenka said, "Papa, control yourself."

Benedikt stole a sideways glance at the mother: she gave off the same rays. And Olenka, too. Only weaker.

There was a scrabbling sound under the table again. And Benedikt's tail tapped harder than ever.

"Help yourself to more," said the mother. "Our family likes to eat a lot."

"One of the oldest families, descended from the French," affirmed the father.

"Have some more noodles."

"Thank you kindly."

"Now, you aren't having any bad thoughts, are you?" asked the father.

"What kind of thoughts?"

"All kinds of bad thoughts-Freethinking or malice aforethought of any kind…"

"I don't have any thoughts like that," said Benedikt in a fright.

"How about murder most foul?"

"What kind of murder?"

"Who knows… Maybe you're thinking: I'll marry, get my father- and mother-in-law out of the way, and take all their property for myself?"

"Goodness, how could you-"

"No? You aren't thinking: If I could just do away with them and take their place, I could feast my fill day in and day out?"

"What are you talking about?… Why?… Kudeyar Kudeyarich! Why, I-"

"Papa," said Olenka again, "control yourself."

Once again there was a scratching sound under the table- this time right nearby. Benedikt couldn't help himself, he knocked a piece of bread off the table on purpose with his elbow and bent down as though to pick it up. Under the table he saw the father's feet in their lapty. And through the lapty he saw claws. Long ones, gray and sharp. Olenka's father was scraping the floor with those claws and had already scraped up a huge pile of shavings-they lay there like hair or light-colored, curly straw. Benedikt looked and saw that the mother had claws. Olenka too. But hers were smaller. There was a small pile of scrapings under her.

Benedikt didn't say anything-what could you say? He tore off another piece of goat for himself. And gulped down a lot more horsetail. A lot more.

"But tell me," the father continued, "don't you sometimes think: We aren't doing things right, our life is all wrong?"

"No, I don't."

"Don't you sometimes think thoughts like: We should figure out who's to blame, and crush him or stick his head in a barrel?"

"No, I don't."

"Or break his back, or throw him off a tower?"

"No, no!"

"What's that tapping?" the mother suddenly spoke. "Sounds like someone's knocking."

Benedikt quickly stuck his hand under him to hold his tail still.

"And don't you have thoughts like: The Murzas are to blame for everything, they should be overthrown?"

"No!!!"

"You never thought of overthrowing the Greatest Murza?"

"Goodness, no!! No!!! I don't understand what you're talking about!!!"

"What do you mean you don't understand? The Greatest Murza, I mean Fyodor Kuzmich, Glorybe. You never dreamed of overthrowing him?"

"Kudeyar Kudeyarich, how could you?"

"Control yourself, Papa…"

"Oh, all right… Let me show you something…"

The father got up from the table, went into another room, and returned with a book. An Oldenprint book. Benedikt sat on both hands and held his tail tight.

"I'll show you… Ever seen one of these?"

"Never!"

"You know what it is?"

"No!"

"Think about it a minute."

"I don't know anything, I've never seen anything. Never heard anything. I don't understand anything, don't want anything, haven't dreamt anything."

The father laid the book on his lap, shone his light on it, and turned the pages.

"Do you want one of these? Should I give it to you? It's a good one!…"

"I don't want anything!!!"

"Don't even want to get married, then?"

Get married! Benedikt had almost forgotten-from fear and longing, from the incredible, unending shame of what was held tight in his hands under his body-that he was supposed to get married. Married! How could he ever have gotten that idea in his head? Got too big for his britches, the knucklehead, the mongrel stray! Wasn't enough for him to have Marfushka, Kapi-tolinka, Crooked Vera, Glashka-Kudlashka, and all the others! Had to try for a girl like this: meek eyes, a white face, a braid five yards long, a chin with a dimple, and claws on her feet! Run! That's right, run-toss a knapsack over your shoulder and run as far as you can, toward the sunrise, or the south, no looking back, to the Ocean-Sea itself, to the blue expanses, to the white sands!

But Olenka raised her eyes, turned on the light in them, a reddish light, faint like a fake fireling on a dark trunk. She raised her eyebrows right up to her ribbon, laughed with her red mouth, straightened the white blouse on her breasts, and wiggled her shoulders. "Papa, you're such an incorrigible rascal. We've already settled everything. Embrace your son-in-law."

"So… It's all settled, is it? Made up your minds behind Papa's back. Papa works day in and day out, without a moment's rest… Wants what's best… I see right through all of you…!" the father suddenly shouted.

"Papa, you're not the only one who-"

"He's not one of us!" shouted the father.

"Papa, you're not at work!"

"What kind of work does he do?" whispered Benedikt.

"What do you mean, what kind of work?" asked the mother in surprise. "Don't you know? Kudeyar Kudeyarich is the Head Saniturion."