other. What was that shrill cry. It was my aunt shrieking ... and
that? It was my father's voice, hoarse with anger. 'The watch! the
watch!' bawled someone, surely Trankvillitatin. We heard the thud of
feet, the creak of the floor, a regular rabble running ... moving
straight upon us. I was numb with terror and David was as white as
chalk, but he looked proud as an eagle. 'Vassily, the scoundrel, has
betrayed us,' he whispered through his teeth. The door was flung wide
open, and my father in his dressing gown and without his cravat, my
aunt in her dressing jacket, Trankvillitatin, Vassily, Yushka, another
boy, and the cook, Agapit--all burst into the room.
'Scoundrels!' shouted my father, gasping for breath.... 'At last we
have found you out!' And seeing the watch in David's hands: 'Give it
here!' yelled my father, 'give me the watch!'
But David, without uttering a word, dashed to the open window and
leapt out of it into the yard and then off into the street.
Accustomed to imitate my paragon in everything, I jumped out, too, and
ran after David....
'Catch them! Hold them!' we heard a medley of frantic shouts behind
us.
But we were already racing along the street bareheaded, David in
advance and I a few paces behind him, and behind us the clatter and
uproar of pursuit.
XIX
Many years have passed since the date of these events; I have
reflected over them more than once--and to this day I can no more
understand the cause of the fury that took possession of my father
(who had so lately been so sick of the watch that he had forbidden it
to be mentioned in his hearing) than I can David's rage at its having
been stolen by Vassily! One is tempted to imagine that there was some
mysterious power connected with it. Vassily had not betrayed us as
David assumed--he was not capable of it: he had been too much
scared--it was simply that one of our maids had seen the watch in his
hands and had promptly informed our aunt. The fat was in the fire!
And so we darted down the street, keeping to the very middle of it.
The passers-by who met us stopped or stepped aside in amazement. I
remember a retired major craned out of the window of his flat--and,
crimson in the face, his bulky person almost overbalancing, hallooed
furiously. Shouts of 'Stop! hold them' still resounded behind us.
David ran flourishing the watch over his head and from time to time
leaping into the air; I jumped, too, whenever he did.
'Where?' I shouted to David, seeing that he was turning into a side
street--and I turned after him.
'To the Oka!' he shouted. 'To throw it into the water, into the river.
To the devil!'
'Stop! stop!' they shouted behind.
But we were already flying along the side street, already a whiff of
cool air was meeting us--and the river lay before us, and the steep
muddy descent to it, and the wooden bridge with a train of waggons
stretching across it, and a garrison soldier with a pike beside the
flagstaff; soldiers used to carry pikes in those days. David reached
the bridge and darted by the soldier who tried to give him a blow on
the legs with his pike and hit a passing calf. David instantly leaped
on to the parapet; he uttered a joyful exclamation.... Something
white, something blue gleamed in the air and shot into the water--it
was the silver watch with Vassily's blue bead chain flying into the
water.... But then something incredible happened. After the watch
