you this minute. What a thing, to be sure! First you are going to slit
Hrisanf Lukitch's belly, then mine. Let me go, David Yegoritch....
Kindly take the watch. Only don't tell your papa.'
David let go his hold of Vassily's waistcoat. I looked into his face:
certainly not only Vassily might have been frightened by it. It looked
so weary ... and cold ... and angry....
Vassily dashed into the house and promptly returned with the watch in
his hand. He gave it to David without a word and only on going back
into the house exclaimed aloud in the doorway:
'Tfoo! here's a go.'
He still looked panic-stricken. David tossed his head and walked into
our room. Again I followed on his heels. 'A Suvorov! He's a regular
Suvorov!' I thought to myself. In those days, in 1801, Suvorov was
our great national hero.
XVIII
David shut the door after him, put the watch on the table, folded his
arms and--oh, wonder!--laughed. Looking at him I laughed, too.
'What a wonderful performance!' he began. 'We can't get rid of this
watch anyway. It's bewitched, really. And why was I so furious about
it?'
'Yes, why?' I repeated. 'You ought to have let Vassily keep it....'
'Well, no,' interposed David. 'That's nonsense. But what are we to do
with it?'
'Yes! what?'
We both stared at the watch and pondered. Adorned with a chain of pale
blue beads (the luckless Vassily in his haste had not removed this
chain which belonged to him) it was calmly doing its work: ticking
somewhat irregularly, it is true, and slowly moving its copper minute
hand.
'Shall we bury it again? Or put it in the stove,' I suggested at last.
'Or, I tell you what: shouldn't we take it to Latkin?'
'No,' answered David. 'That's not the thing. I know what: they have
set up a committee at the governor's office and are collecting
subscriptions for the benefit of the people of Kasimov. The town has
been burnt to ashes with all its churches. And I am told they take
anything, not only bread and money, but all sorts of things. Shall we
send the watch there?'
'Yes! yes!' I answered. 'A splendid idea. But I thought that since
your friends are in want....'
'No, no; to the committee; the Latkins will manage without it. To the
committee.'
'Well, if it is to be the committee, let it be. Only, I imagine, we
must write something to the governor.'
David glanced at me. 'Do you think so?'
'Yes, of course; there is no need to write much. But just a few
words.'
'For instance?'
'For instance ... begin like this: 'Being' ... or better: 'Moved
by' ...'
''Moved by' ... very good.'
'Then we must say: 'herewith our mite' ...'
''Mite' ... that's good, too. Well, take your pen, sit down and write,
fire away!'
'First I must make a rough copy,' I observed.
'All right, a rough copy, only write, write.... And meanwhile I will
clean it with some whitening.'
I took a sheet of paper, mended a pen, but before I had time to write
at the top of the sheet 'To His Excellency, the illustrious Prince'
(our governer was at that time Prince X), I stopped, struck by the
extraordinary uproar ... which had suddenly arisen in the house. David
noticed the hubbub, too, and he, too, stopped, holding the watch in
his left hand and a rag with whitening in his right. We looked at each
