7xwR@ooooo}EEEUe(<xEA aw*o Fellow Traveller The minutes ran like little girls along the little corridor; with their eternal little pension; the hand of the clock moved, because they ran; on Sunday, having risen, grunting, onto the longtime rocky chair, accompanied by the exclamation: Youll break the chair that way Papa set the time for me, turning the clock spring; and trr trr trr the turning points wheezed, winding: Mondays, Tuesdays, Wednesdays: andtrr-trr-trruntil Saturday: inclusive! A new week began ticking! . . . . The days fell out speckled: herethe sun, therea shadow; herea little snow, and therea little rain; the snows were dissolving; and I passed through days muddy from chocolate puddles, the snow mumbling from the speech of shovels and the gay splashing of cabbies; by evening March wasa shining March; it set up a crunching of icy cockleshells; with my foot I step on the cockleshell of a puddle: and under the cockleshell dark spots quickly sweep about; anda little foot withdraws into the little puddle. Larks flew to the Sevastyanov house; from Sevastyanovs they flew to us: ruddy and delectable; I love to pick out the raisin-eyes; and tastefully snack on the little head: edible and delectabletotally incomparable; you eat a bitafterwards there rises up to your little throat a hic! The week flew by: and Papaleads in another one, an April week: in the young spring they picked out the putty; andin the young spring we pushed through into thundering crashes; dryspots were imaged there, where slimy softspots dirtied; the doughnut man walks about the courtyard; his catchphrase is heard: Little boys, Ive brought you doughnuts sweet as honey: wont you bring me all your money! The pedlar bawls like a throatsplitter buy-sell; a water barrel bangs thunderously: and they set up the furniture with the pallid colored upholstery: they beat it with a carpet beater; the carpets slam loudly between two floor polishers; life in the courtyard occupies me! The oakennosed dildo, Anton, is spread wide there not in a sheepskin coat, but in a rose calico; he is hurrying: to swear off into space; a red cock hurries behind a whitehaired chicken; grabbing her by the neck feathers with his pinching beak, he crushes her plumed back with the feathery spurs of his feet, rocking his bloody comb all together back and forth. At our placethere are changes: yellow moths are borne in the air; in the anteroom are two of Papas hatsthe brown one (an alien one) and a gray one (the same). And Papa crawls up on a chair; andthe third week is lead in; he is a timemaster: a ringmaster! An amazing person! . . . . . . . . Squeaky and simple, but he issecretive; he squeaks and hurries at the whole house, turning with a fuss among us, disturbing the order: with a helpless call to order; no, he is not cunning, but some secret had been inserted into him: he is sealed, riveted, like a barrel, which with a din is thrown down the stairs, can in its turning crush one very painfully, leaping over what it meets, so that when it has fallen, the split wood jumps up and crunches one. There is no turning away from the momentary run-outs with a pencil stub into the dense thicket of domestic cares, understood by him in his own way with lightning speed (and not at all from the right side); and immediately resolved in the wrong direction: Papashort, an oaken barrel, began to crash, puffed out he throws himself with his brow stronger than strong coconuts; and breathing out smells of felt with his harsh stubble, he rolls off with very hurrying little eyes into your idea from spectacles, raised by fingers, from which is borne sealing wax, with a shouting, somehow shrill, wenchlike, and somehow obtrusive, mouthall shaggy, browless: What are you doing? Allow me!.. Youre doing it all wrong How can that be? Like this You roll back: the moved table passes very heartily in the wrong direction on little copper wheels, banging into Dunyashas hips with its walnut edge: Ouch, Sir! Having banged his clumsypawed act on the white wall, where the lightest lilies pour out, and borne off, like an oaken barrel under the yellow buffet, he stumbles; and wooden masses answer in a seethrough tremble with ringing sounds of glass. Ah: youve messed up everything! You ought to get out! Papa, falling, jumps up and crunches, falling to pieces on the squared beamhelplessly, running across frightenedly with eyes exchanging glances: Ah, as a matter of fact you wait: in the barrel is cooped up the mould of slimy herring, or bunches of grapes, sprinkled with sawdust, but out falls: a soft raspberry outpouring of dear muslins, of magnificent moires and shiny fires of Arabic materials; youare amazed: flights off into the dense thickets of cares are directed by the norm of practical philosophy of the Stoics, which isin the Diogenes barrel; they riveted it into oaken forms and into a very wide jacket, blown up by the vanity of puffs: and the fingers jump like a pea; from under the vest the half-belt of the shirt shows itself: You should pull up your belt! He pulls it up, andthe former is exposed: the half-belt of the shirt; thus he retreats with the half-belt straight into his study from the dense thicket of cares: intothe carelessness of integral com-putation Yes, in the Diogenes barrel sits content: with a sunny dance and a sunny ruddy glow; and the barrel thunders, but Diogenes is invisible in it; he jumps out suddenly from the crunched barrel with a lantern; and he begins running in a commotion with the tenderest of eyes: Where is the man? The eyes seem like tiny little swindling mice; from the thicket thunderously is given out only the belch of everyday occurrences: just like in the belly: from above it aa-oos with a delicate weeping: Aaa-ooo! On a floor lower, how it belches; and the belch goes like a roll of thunder: from top to bottom: from right to left!.. Al-ready a cloud has become solidly swollen behind another cloud; May thunder clouds roll into the swelling of dumb smokeheads; the glazed green roofs sparkle; andthe self-flying fluff frizzes; the thunderbeating street ohs; I know: very soon the lightflying swallow will fire a shot in the window . . . . . . Papa passes by stealthily, on tiptoes, hunching without a murmur from the inconvenience, borne by him, all in pranks, childish and sparkling; he isexpelled from the rooms; trying to be the equal (a professorwith a professor, with a yardmana yardman), he lowered himself into a halfsquat before the nose; and because of this all the tiptoers measured Papochka from above with haughtiness: He islower! And Papa jumped up here, chucking,the scoundrel, the professor, the buffoon, the minister! They did not understand these Aesopian appearances in domestic life: to bitch about prejudices with Stoic thought, complicated from the reduction of the denominator and numerator of the fraction of cares, and being a new means, as for example: the means of peeling a potato: Firsthe bends the pinky, drums out, throwing up words with a pen knife with a very loud click of his heelsthe potato, yes, yes, it was very difficult, believe me, to transfer it to the Old World Secondhe bends with a bow the next, the nameless ring fingerit was very difficult, you know, to introduce it among us! Thirdhe breaks for some reason his big, own naily thumb, left with the third and index finger; and raising his hand with two fingers over the kitchens offspring-fumes, like the schismatic priest, Pustosvyat, he walks like thunder about the little kitchen Third: you have to pass from the Flint Age to the Iron Age, in order to get to the knife, Afrosinya; the union of the knife into the matter of potato peeling is, Afrosinya, a sum, the integration of very complicated questions of culture here start ahahs, here start ahohs; and the much-steamed kitchen strikes a sound: Afrosinya, Dunyasha, and I on the q.t. I snatch a savage radish: a savage radish! And from the stove door the fire runs in combs; and a log snaps; it is clouded with smoke and spit upon with saliva; and hissingly sang out, twirling, a luminous unclarity; sunflower seeds were thrown about everywhere on the floor; that signifies that Anton had been sitting here; and he grabbed around Dunyasha; here there were chuckles and scuffles; there sat at some distance on the chair a familiar old wench,a biddy; this very stout biddy was called a bitch (a foulmouthed beldam!) I know: the witch-bitch was biting on her juicy chomps; yes, and she yawned wide now her yellow mouth; and sat bigbreasted and sweat bigpussed, puffing out her belly; she was greased over in yellow lusters Papa, not seeing the smirks, hovered over Afrosinya and la-lad his own: The peeling of potato clumps is, so to say, an integration of actions; and youpeel the wrong way Ai-ai-ai-ai: can you really peel that way? impetuously (Papas actions are impetuous) tearing a light brown clump from the hand of Afrosinya, crushing it between the fingers, so that, thrown into the air, the potato fell, he took it up from the floor, set his feet apart; andand according to the rules for sharpening a pencil stub, he himself began to peel: This waythis is the way Not away from you, but towards you Sir! Im telling you: you sharpen a pencil stub, peel a potato,like this; using these meansthe breast, like a bellows, blew out fire from the nostrils. Sir! Yes: everything has its own means I noticed that the woman had snatched a carrot; Papa exited from the kitchen; and everything began to gackle, everything began to cackle: a friendly cackle was borne in; but Papa, like a peripatetic loudly, oakenly strode into the corridor, grumbling that the method of peeling a potatois: rational. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Where is the man?exclaimed Diogenes. Space answered; with a downcast hic. If Diogenes would appear amid the marble curia of Julius (the Holy Father), Moro, or Este, amid Leonardo-da-Vinci, all embroidered, frizzy-haired in a fiery tunic, the ladylike Raphael, Lorenzo, or Valla, or Poggio,would there have occurred a scandal in the genteel family of the century: and they would have burst out in a peal of laughter, as they burst out in laughter at Papas exits, his half-belt up, into the rituals of domestic cares. Papa was not in the fifteenth century; therefore he was coarser, like a Greek; but he was healthier; not with the tender cruelty of Borgia, with the coarse, Attic salt he guiltlessly danced on the parquets his billygoat hops; one billygoat hop was especially successfulwith music; I think: Papa, the joker, constructed this spectacle on purpose, in order to amuse us (he issecretive); he played out the spectacle, as if according to notes: I used to see: in the dining room over the chess case, he chomps his tea, moving about words like figures over the chess case,very prominent cheek bones, bigpussed, sooner a shorty; but: a tosser and a turner; his strong starch snaps, he thunders words like pawns in the chess case; Mama looloos sounds over the whitetoothiness of the keys; Papa bothers herwith words and chomps You, Mikhail Vasilich, do not hear music: you hear a shooing noise? Welladmit it No: why should I!.. He hearsmilitary marches; andGlinka, now and then he hums under his nose jerking sounds like a billygoat; and hums are heard by him instead of Schumann; instead of Beethoven simplysome sort of beating there; but rising with ardor, he bangs: All composers are poor in melody; there are no original thoughts: I wouldthink up Well, then, try it? What, why should I?.. And rising from the chess game (he used to play with himself), he bends himself over with a loud puff onto the stool, all grayish, singling out something on the black searched-out lacquer of the piano board; and over him the wall candleholder turned bronze. Taking aim with his finger at a note,he bashes: against a note. Well, what next? Bash, bash! Ah, monstrous! Why: its not bad!and hooting a hahoom and thumping tatoom, drumming dadoom, booming baboom: he reminds one with sounds of that which now and then goes on in the stomach, where something is given up with a fallen grumbling, where thossse, who roll down, remind one of the secretive thosss sss sss e! Papa stands up on top of the card table; he beats, as if on the back of a Negrito, covered with lacquer, with his autologue: he drags his study everywhere; he drags it in andsets it up, like little screens. No: he isa nailbeater; he doesnt know how to beat on the key board. But an outwind of smoke is borne into the totally selfcolored windows; and a black Miss Modesty, a shadow, sits down; the covered distances are becoming tired; and they became sunset; and there a redheaded cloud istwoheaded; and here, headless: flattened in velveteen: the borne-by night wafts; andthey rose: the septilegs of shadows like a handleg of days; we do not screw off: in front of all stand conversations with the week; toookhorror scratches with a paw: it brings into the anteroom a smelly doggy smell; from the corridor multipawed shaggy terrors beat again with smells of methane and smells of peptone. The gripping terror ran from the same place where Papa had been bashing. I am afraid of Papa: he is dreadful at times. . . . . . . . . . . The demon of Socrates, the unheard Leonardo-da-Vinci, lives in him; and from him spins out a delicate atmospherenot an outpouring of soft muslins, raspberry woven velveteens, but the content of a life of spiritual existences, the bases of which he subsequently substantiated in the tiny brochure Monadology, given to a philosophical collection at the request of Grot; he preached Monadology in the rooms. . . . . . . . . . . Once he narrated a dreaman arch-serious one. Yes, you know I saw in a dream. An arch-curious one! With a hanging wide-nostriled face he came up against the word, which he served carefully, like a very strong-smelling dish of jasper berries, trying not to break up, but showing, thathe is joking: Yes, you know, I saw in a dreaman arch-curious one there wafted to me little branches, wafted to me abundances. The dream isan arch-curious onehe raised his upjerked nose somehow aslant, downwards and upwards; andwheezed with a goodpuff. Of course, dreams aredreams, hmm nevertheless there are some dreams, and then othersthis kindhe sat, as if breathing in the spirits of linden, in blissful heat exhaustion, waving under his nose, as if we were in the days of Andrei the Filler, in the days, when the winter crops fill to full ripening. Its as if I see in the dream that there is placed a Kasyanov, you know, little table, oakenyhe pronounces with his spectacles. And on the table arestrawberrieshis eyebrows jump up, and the spectacles fell down, and his arms spread. With me isan unknown person with such a sympathetichis goodcheeked face drove aparta sympathetic and honest face; and we areeating berries. I start to lay out for him very hurriedly the bases of Monadology,not the Leibniz one at all, but my own: point by pointhe tossed himself back, looking at the baguet, and sat in great tendernessthus: neither this way, nor that; and was embarrassed by the word. And the unknown one, taking a berry, listened very attentively to my first point about monads. Yes, you know,he says to me, smiling:I agree with you, Mikhail Vasilich: thats it exactly, exactly; the definition by you of the monad is simple, and exact, andthe main thing is: it gives the essence of things. Papochka clicked his heels under the tablecloth, bowing his head low, presenting to us the gesture of the unknown one; he sat and breathed Yes and he jerked all across the table with a pencil stub: I tell himthe second little point! He stopped suddenly in exhaustion and tenderness; andtossed himself all the way back. He says to me here too: I agree: thats it exactly! Suddenly I understand herehe scratched himself,eh, eh, yes somewhere I saw an imaginative young philosopherand spread apart an eye from terror, although he tried to scream with his whole appearance. Never mind, never mind, calm yourself, Mikhail Vasilich! Eh, eh! These curls, the little beardeh, eh Hee-hee-hee After all this is Christ?.. Hows that for a joke! And I tell him little point after little point. I tell him! He stood, extending his arm. He stood up. Hesaid: Yes, I agree with you. Then I tell himhere Papochka became like a child, clumsy-pawed and eyes screwed up from tenderness: Its horribly pleasant for me that you, so to say, the World Monadthe Central One, you know,he addedand of the highest orders in relation to our, that, so to say, you accept We kissed each other! I tell himhe snapped his fingersIsay: only, you know Our here Father isunequivocally monadologically, I do not dispute, butall the samehe began pugnosed over his fingers to bend his point of viewwe should first replace the words Our Father with the expressionand for a minute deeply in thought; and he boomed in a bass voice suddenly enraptured: Thus for example: Ohe boomed in a bass voiceSource of Purest Consummation. He stopped. Or for example: Oagain he began booming in a bass voice Absolute, so to say Suddenly he was completely amazedto the very edge of his bounds, almost to vexation. But he answered me to this: Yes, you should, Mikhail Vasilich,without the so to say O, Absolute, and not so to say, O Absolute! I to him: Yes, have mercy, that you, really And heamazement, pain and vexation were now written above Papas nose, below Papas noseBut he He just, imaginedisappeared! And he spread his palms savagely. Now thats a story! Boomingly he went to spread stomps with his feet on the plates of parquet; and it seemed to me, that Auntielivens up, Granny ispale white, Mama istotally an aromatic; we all were pineappled with the spirit; and into the open windows passed a little wind from the Heavenly Empire, where Chinese satins were laid; thus the heavens covered us all with its head; for sure, Papa, isa Christened Chinaman! . . . . . . . . . . Lizochek is now having a gay time at the Usovs: I, here,where to: I am so unhappy, I want to live; but there is no lifeAuntie used to complain. And Papa at this exits like such a bigbrowacorn, tossing his stubnosed legs, not bending his knees, his hands rolled up behind his back: he does not bend with his ear, but he hears with his spirit, his eyes closed and trying to place one foot after the other. Thats enough from you, Yevdokia Yegorovna! and now there begins to thunder from him: an outpouring of words, breathed out; there thundered the freshness of light; a clear glance exploded; andit ignited the sunsets; everywhere around the dining room sparklers were tossed; in him thundered, slicing through in the features of his whole senseless head, as if sitting aslant, a raspberryish somehow not-flowering mouth; with an azure look he grabbed out of himself assurances of the fact that the dignity, yes! of man isenormous, that You know, Yevdokia Yegorovna, you are after allthe universe: an intersection of monads; and a monad is the world! What are you crying for? Eh, look more hearty: walk with your brow raised high! And she begins to walk with a brow raised highly, all whiterose, whiteluminous, on stout legs,through the years, to glance into the adjacent room, as if into the coming era, where yes! Yevdokia Yegorovna, do you know, in the end the assurance will turn up anew: to bear her lot! And tossing apart his palms, he collected in his good-accepting bosom the damp raw material of cried words, turning them, like the Lord, into turquoise downpours, into pearly clarities; just like some blue-ocular, it used to come to him in the eyes; andwith his spirit he descends on us: onto the parquets of the apartment, reminding one of Socrates, before the poison; and he falls with his whole corpus onto the chair; and they whisper: Granny and Auntie: Thatsa man! A golden one! A diamond one!! We see: from sliced-off little clouds blindingly splashes light: edges, ridges; here theyve alreadypurpled, ashened, darkened; the glassy heavens, exceeding themselves, withdrew into heavenlessness; below shone clearly a strip: of Chinese silk . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . It is known to me: the forces living in him, after the fall from the great cosmic into the thunder of the comical, were invisibly widened by palms of light; andparadise rose up: a dense atmosphere; Mama voiced; with enormous seriousness: Yes, Mikhail Vasilich What? Yes he isa force Thus in the weak dimness of the study, the gray-green, gray-coffee one with the slits of bright-orange patches of light (from the lamp) was secreted a powerful gamma of Persian motleys, thundering out with the voice of Trinity Monday. Yes, thus such a force made itself felt to me, made radiant by him; andyes: those arepenates: they penetrate me; the apartment is penetrated by them; the walls streamcurrent; the etageres, chairs, armchairs, tables stand in an immovable thunder storm,charged; if I had known of electricity, then I would have said that Papa had placed a Leyden jar among the rooms: oh, oh! Dont touch the little sphere of the jar: it will bite! Oh, oh! Dont tease it: it will shoot a needle (the spherical surface of his head takes after the sphere of the Leyden jar); and nails flew; and the air of the apartment, as I remember it,wasnaily, wideshouldered, short my Papochka was like a big ink pot Those (Elohims!) sat deeply and silently; knocking into base-ness, thundering with a bash; and growled out, like at Delyanov, at the Minister, in the hotel, in the room where he had placed his suitcase upon his arrival in Petersburg, where Papochka was lowered by the corridor servants, to whom he seemed pitiful (he joked with them),until the minute when they served the calling card to the tiny room: the Minister of Education had arrived on a visit; and Papa had clicked his heels to the Minister; and he presented his hand to him in greeting; within a second he had already begun to fidget on the chair and, half jerking the table cloth off, suddenly fidgeting in the air with his hand,he fell upon Delyanov with bashes; How can you, old chap? Ehhh? Eh! Leave it be! Yes enough; enough! Yes where to here! Eh! And as the Minister departed in the ministry carriage, everyone was drawn up before Papaat attention! Papa shouted: at students, docents, professors wives, professors, literateurs, babblers, liberals, ministers; and in influential spheres they respected him: I imagined to myself these spheres as cosmospheres, not firmed into little spheres: the earths sphere issuch a firmness his coworkers and timid handshakers (respected and shaken) afterwards passed on to there: to ministers; and he remained a dean, spinning his wheels as he wished, (about which I thought that these wheels.. are some sort of Ezekiels) of the de-partment! Yes, yes: they did not permit him into the cosmospheres, fearing, that he would begin to turn such cosmospheres in his own way, just like they turn the creaking handle of the coffee grinder, or like they turn the wheezing street organ, the grieving Traviata I imagined : surely, he in his uniform tailcoat conducts grave arias: in the university, in the court yard, straight under the window of Maria Vasilievna Pavlova; lifting his bowler to her: and to him from the little window, right under his feet, she throws a copper which was wrapped in paper: there Papa turns everything! But spheres do not like to be turned; they do not give up; and Papa lives far away from the spheres: in the end the imagination of a sphere firmed: it is a hollow sphere illumined from the inside by light; there they permit an invisible spiritfrom the gut; and herea blown-up sphere; it is possible to fall into it: for this it must flow from the gut, turn itself into an absence (everything there isabsence); Papa was present everywhere; and he would have gone into the sphere with a stuck-out half-belt, not pulling up and sticking out his solid stomach: everything would have burst, just like a bubble, sparkling with its luminescent shell of soap; for Papa such blown-up spheres arebubbles: he blew them up from soap; amusing me; he blew them out to me: he blew them up from the fire; and he watched them flying; and poked at them with a finger; others of them became firm; andyes: we live on one (the earths little sphere isa sphere): and our Papochka, blowing out the little sphereearths, calls up in me rapture and trembling; heconstructs worlds letting himself down, where necessary, to them and wandering there as a fellow traveler from an Andersen fairy tale, unrecognized by those whom he is leading to the goal,with an enormous umbrella, with a bowler hat, beaten by someones malicious hand onto the brow; he would meet with us; and having led us, he tosses us aside, waving his hand in parting in the air: he tossed us aside: some eighteen years have passed since he withdrew to himself: into his own luminescent cosmospheres! I know: in the centuries he disguised himself a multitudinous multitude of times; he visited Abraham; he bowed in parting: he is no more! But Abraham fulfills the testament, because he knows: Papa will appear: andhe will ask for an accounting: and I fear: that with puny actions my anemic life is turning an apparent yellow: a mouselike green is in the eyes, under the eyes! afterwards he already, not noticed by anyone, lived in the apartment, in Sodom; and just, like we, the Sodomites mocked him: hequietly, submissively bore it: (Our Mikhail Vasilichyes, yes: a man without character; he isboiling water, he isa hot-head, butsuch a rag)! Mama does not know, wherein is the force: I know: and the covered-up force holds me. . . . . . . . . . I know: I concluded a testament with him; on Sinai, on his knees, he gave over the contents of two little books (a small green one and a small lilac one: they werethe Old and New Testaments); if I, like the Jews, violate the testaments, following the call of Mamochka shouting at me (Kotik, come here: dont you dare listen to your father!) if I run behind the alcoves to create with her little calves from little candies, ribbons, bands, clasps and elastic, the whalebone, the corset one, then I will be grabbed by a panicky horror; it will be not a nail, but purer than a nail: The tablets of the testament will be loudly smashed apart! Oh, no, better to be boxed on the ears, tortured by Mama; what the heck: Christians were tortured, and lions were let out of the cages; so am I: locked by Papa into the dumb study, like in a cage,I learn; hewithdraws from the cage; into the open door flies a growling Mamochka, a lioness, but this isan ordeal; the lionessa mask, a likeness, all the same: the symbol jerks very painfully; but the force of the testament iswith me; and I do not go with Mama to feast as a pagan: I reject with my hand the chocolate of Kraft, pressing the dry, dumb tablet: I will be a force!.. Because I had seen the force of fire, because I had heard the sounds of the nail; and the fate of Sodom is known to me!.. . . . . . . He rented an apartment there, manifested a laughable weakness; eccentrically, scatterbrainedly he calculated together with Lot, a talented young man in spectacles, being led through the reviewing line of the Sodomites: to a docentship; and the Sodomites shouted like Mamochka: No, he reeks of trash! But he led out Lot; and returned again to our place: and they threw very rotten eggs smelling of peptone at him; placing into the open window a nail, how he began to growl, instantly constructing with it the Dead Sea; and he moved to Greece, suffering misfortunes from a very shrewish landlady, Xanthippe; there, having drunk the poison, he appeared in the sixteenth centurya wanderer all in patches; with the same enormous umbrella, with a little bowler hat, in a lapserdak frock-coat; he knocked under windows; when met, he quietly sat down at the table, began to narrate just like to DotyaMonadology; here unnoticed he got messed up, seeing those whose hopes had been lost; and he renarrated his personal experiences of events occurring under Caesar Augustus and under Pontius Pilate; there, hiding behind the debris, he was not seen at all by Mary, butseen by Him, from Him he directly received indications, on how to act and what to do,in the millenniums of time; here, passing through the centuries, straight out, slicing through the big road, he appeared to sound the bell: to us in the room,with a rather stuffed portfolio, stuffed with Testaments; nowinvisibly he serves and secretly he images to all of us: he met with Mamochka: Mamochka, Granny, Auntie and Uncle were already hungering, when Granny had squandered everything; twenty-three suitors, like dogs, sat around, proposing marriage; but Papochka gave them a hand, leading Mamochka by the hand and leading her to the house of Kosyakov (and the suitors ran away) and Mamochka knows: she knows everything; and she knows, that Papochka allowed her to swear at him, but up to up to: up to the nail; and up to the nail she swears; and after the nail there comes to pass a majestic severity and clarity of simple relations: mirrorlike, crystally, like on the day of the creation of the world! if we transgress the nail, once again the red downpours will break through, andthe Dead, bitter Sea will immediately be revealed in the rooms . . . . . . . . . . . . . . The spindle of days turns around and around: in the shadow of shadows!  The Christened Chinaman Fellow Traveler  vx onal experiences of events occurring under Caesar Augustus and under Pontius Pilate; there, hiding behind the debris, he was not seen at all by Mary, butseen by Him, from Him he directly received indications, on how to act and what to do,in the millenniums of time; here, passing through the centuries, straight out, slicing through the big road,.59> & + : ?'B'H''+ +.+6+C--11457777::=?=IFFFFGGGGRRSuS}TUU;U@W%W*WWZZ[[\\&\,\8\\]]]]]^____`L`S`z`aaarayaaaaaabbcc`chhkgkkkkkkm3m9mZm_n-n2ndnhoopmpqr1r;tdtnuu(vvvsvwvvvvvvwYw^wpw}xQxRxZx[x\xsxtxux}xxxxxxx@X8*elsz 4uk H ` O!5BȽޠyrkdk h h  h h h  h   h  h  h  h D  h  h $  h  h hhh#G4 4Xh#(  ##$1%M%%%ƻʹ͐͐zoh]VK  h h  h    h  h  h  h  h h  h h  h h h  h (  hl  h  h %&&&'(>(g(*L,---./L/b0000122!2(2.233I56626X7788K8]8r89:J;ˆ{p  h   h0  hL  h  h  d h h h  h h  h h h,>@@?@@ABOBBBCDEEEF@FGGGHIIJfKkKMoMNNNYOOOxQDQUQeQxRpRSSSSTWoWZZϧȎ|  h  hl  h h  h  h  h  h h h  h h h h h0ZZZZZZZ[`\\]+]{]^^^_b_`W`bcef$gghDʿ򗌁vk`UJ  h  hL  h  h  h  h  hp  h    h  h @  h  h  hT  h t h h hhDhhii<kknnnoosKtuwAwx xRxSxTxUxVxWxXxYxZxtxuxvxwxxxyxzx{x|xxxxؼʊ{m{{   @ `  @    h D h` hL  h  h h h  h h  h  h0  hl' # wxo",E4[=FPOY`isw=lfL]fp@#?Bcx=>%>ZhDx?@ABCD xyz{HH(FG(HH(d'@=/ @ @H -:LaserWriter ( ( u*u* u*