It was a feast fit for the Gods to them, and those of them who were single asked me to board them regularly. I not only boarded them, but I washed and repaired their clothes as well. I had a hut turned into a bathhouse, and it was not long before the politicals looked human again. My duties in the house demanded all my time and energy, but I was happy in being able to give help. The men regarded me as their mother, and never tired of praising me.
I planted a garden, and sowed some grain, as land was given by the community for the asking, there being few settlers in spite of the natural riches of the district. The rivers in Northern Siberia are full of fish, and there is no end to the wealth of timber. Less than 150 miles from us gold mines were being worked. On the strength of our having owned the butcher’s shop in Yakutsk we were able to buy a horse on credit and also to borrow some money.
My popularity with the politicals irritated Yasha. He grew jealous of their kindness, now suspecting one man of courting me and now another. As he had nothing to do, he nursed his jealousies till they grew in his imagination. He took to playing cards, which is very popular with the Yakuts, who like to gamble. This led gradually to his becoming a confirmed gambler. He would leave home for some neighbouring Yakut settlement and frequently stay away for several days, spending all his time in gambling. Finally it became a habit with him. He would disappear, and reappear suddenly, only in different moods.
When he had won he would return all smiles, with money jingling in his pockets, bringing me some presents, and displaying great generosity to all. But that was not the usual case. Most frequently he lost, and then he would come back home gloomy and dejected, nervous and irritable, ready to pick quarrels and give provocation. His temper was especially roused whenever he found some political in the house. Consumed by jealousy, he would taunt me, and not infrequently resort to blows.
“Yasha, have you lost your senses?” I would say. “Do you need some money? You know I am always glad to help you out,” and I would have resort to my small savings, knowing that he had lost his last penny. But that would not alleviate my suffering. It was with relief that I looked forward to his departures, and with apprehension that I saw him return.
At the end of about three months, we obtained permission to visit Yakutsk for the purpose of collecting the money due to us for the butcher’s shop, but the man to whom we had made over the business now denied that he owed us any money, claiming to have paid fully at the time of our exile to Amga. There was a violent quarrel, but no money. As I had surrendered the shop to him on trust, we could not substantiate our claims and oust him from his possession of the premises. There was nothing to be done but to return with empty hands, with the burden of the debts we had incurred at Amga weighing heavily on our shoulders. I was faced with the dreary prospect of hard and continuous toil, in order to pay what we owed.
One summer day a new party of exiles arrived at Amga. One of them was a young man of about twenty. Yasha took a fancy to him and proposed that he should remain in our house as my assistant. Knowing Yasha’s jealousy I objected.
“Yasha,” I argued, “what are you doing? You know how jealous you become when you find one of the colony in the house, and now you want me to keep this young man here, while you will be away most of the time. You are only making trouble for me, I don’t want him, I need no help. Please don’t burden me with him.”
“Marusia,” Yasha replied, tenderly, “I swear that I won’t be jealous any more. I won’t, dear. Forgive me for all the pain I have caused you.”
Yasha’s words did not entirely pacify me, but he overruled my objections, promising to be reasonable in the future. The same afternoon a Yakut called for him, and they left together to go to a gambling place. The young man remained with me. Nothing occurred the first day or two. Then, one night, I was awakened by the young man bending over me. I repelled him, appealing to his sense of shame, but as he persisted in his advances, I struck him violently, jumped out of bed, and seizing a chair and shouting at the top of my voice, drove him out of the house.
It was about one o’clock in the morning. Prince Gutemurov was returning home from an evening with a friend and saw me drive the young man out into the night. The latter, however, harboured a deep feeling of vengeance against me. He resolved to await Yasha’s return, on the road outside the village, and tell him a false version of the story!
“A fine wife you have,” he addressed Yasha, derisively, as soon as the latter appeared.
“What do you mean?” questioned Yasha excitedly. The young man replied that the night before I had come to him, but, being a loyal friend to Yasha, he drove me away and left the house with the purpose of meeting him and informing him of the incident. Yasha only had sufficient self-control to thunder out:
“Swear, are you telling the truth?”
The
