Chapter 76: The Pushover

As the final days passed, although the young man Andrei still had not received definite news from the editorial office of Notes of the Fatherland, fortunately, the release date of the St. Petersburg Anthology indeed arrived as scheduled.

Thus, on the morning of the release day, Andrei, whose financial situation was actually quite decent, left home early, choosing to brave the cold morning wind of St. Petersburg to head for the bookstore he had been longing to visit for quite some time.

Although he had indeed anticipated the queuing conditions on the release day, when he arrived at the bookstore entrance, the massive, swarming crowd still took him by surprise.

It was evident that some people seemed not to have slept at all; most likely, having attended some ball or banquet late into the night, they simply stayed awake and came over with a slight scent of alcohol on them.

Even during the release of the latest issue of Notes of the Fatherland, such a grand scene might not necessarily be seen, and the young people who came to buy the book this time each had their own goals to some extent, after all, many famous writers and poets appeared in this anthology.

However, Andrei could be certain that most of them would definitely keep their eyes fixed on the works of a certain person.

Besides these people, some patrol officers responsible for maintaining order or harboring other purposes had already begun wandering around the vicinity while yawning.

Recently, some patrol officers had suffered terrible luck, frequently being hit with the phrase "Ochumelov" by certain young people; if an ordinary person said this, these patrol officers would absolutely make that person feel the force of Russian police law enforcement in this era.

But unfortunately, most of the young people saying this were those with some family background or another, making the situation truly unbearable for the officers.

While this behavior certainly had a reasonable side, such as some patrol officers indeed acting that way, at the same time, Andrei believed even more strongly that the story The Chameleon was directed at all people with such vulgar tendencies, and not just these patrol officers.

Harboring such thoughts, as the sky grew brighter and the atmosphere became increasingly fervent, when everything finally began, Andrei, who was more or less accustomed to such scenes, managed to grab a thick copy of the anthology after some scrambling.

The price was not cheap, three rubles per copy, and it was said there was an even more expensive collector's edition, but this had little to do with Andrei; being able to obtain the copy at this price point already satisfied him greatly.

Although not cheap, considering how thick this anthology was, and that the writers within could be described as a gathering of stars, all presenting novels and other genres he had never read before, thinking about it this way, it did not seem so expensive anymore.

After obtaining this thick anthology, Andrei impatiently found a suitable spot and quickly flipped through the table of contents; when he finally saw that familiar name, his heart filled with joy, but then he looked at the title of the story and instantly froze: "The Pushover."

Lost in thought for a moment, although he felt attacked by the title of this story, he continued reading:

"The other day, I asked Yulia Vasilyevna, the governess of my children, to come to my study to settle accounts.

'Please sit down, Yulia Vasilyevna!' I said to her. 'Let us settle up. You undoubtedly need money, but you are so reserved that you would not ask for it yourself... Very well, Young Lady, previously I agreed with you on a monthly salary of thirty rubles...'

'Forty...'

'No, thirty... I have it recorded here... I always pay my governesses thirty rubles... Very well, Young Lady, you have been here for two months...'

'Two months and five days...'

'No, exactly two months... I have it recorded here. So, I owe you sixty rubles... We must deduct nine Sundays... You know, every Sunday you do not teach Kolya, you rest and do no work... Plus three holidays...'

Seeing this, Andrei basically realized what was happening; this seemed to be an employer exploiting a Miss, and in the face of the employer's breach of promise, this Miss merely:

'Blushed, began fidgeting with the ruffles on her dress, but... she said not a word.

'Plus three holidays... so twelve rubles must be deducted... Kolya was sick for four days and had no lessons... You only taught Varya... For three days you had a toothache, and my wife allowed you to skip afternoon lessons... Twelve plus seven equals nineteen. After deduction, the remainder is... ahem, forty-one rubles. Is that correct?'

Even so, the other party's exploitation seemed not yet ended:

'On New Year's Eve, you broke a teacup and a saucer. Deduct two rubles... That teacup was very valuable, a family heirloom, but... never mind, God bless you! How can we avoid any losses whatsoever?

Later, Young Lady, due to your lack of proper care, Kolya climbed a tree and tore his jacket... ten rubles must be deducted... Also, a maid, again due to your lack of proper care, stole a pair of shoes from Varya. You must watch over everything properly. You are paid a salary, therefore, so to speak, another five rubles must be deducted... On January tenth, you took ten rubles from me here...'

'I did not take them!' Yulia Vasilyevna said softly.

'But I have it recorded here!'

'Oh, then... very well.'

'Forty-one minus twenty-six leaves fourteen...'

'I only took it once...' she said with a trembling voice, 'I took three rubles from your wife... I have not taken anything else...'

'Really? You see, I did not record that sum! Fourteen minus three leaves eleven... Very well, here is your money, my dear! Here, take it: three rubles, three rubles, three rubles, one ruble, one ruble. Please accept it, Young Lady!'

Faced with such stingy, utterly stingy deductions, which even made Andrei clench his fists involuntarily, what was this capable Miss's reaction?

She merely:

'Took the money, her fingers trembling as she stuffed the bills into her pocket.

'Merci (French for thank you),' she whispered.'

Why say thank you to him even after all this?!

Before the furious Andrei could say anything, this story unexpectedly presented a huge twist, simply because the exploiting employer now harbored anger just like Andrei:

'I jumped up and began pacing quickly around the room. I was extremely angry.

'Why did you say "Merci"?' I asked.

'You gave me the money...'

'But don't you see, I deducted from you, damn it, I robbed you! Don't you see I embezzled your money! Why do you still say "Merci"?'

Seeing this dialogue, Andrei was stunned again and again; how could this employer be saying all the words I wanted to say?!

And in response to the employer's questioning, this Miss merely said:

'In other places, they do not pay me at all...'

'Not pay? That is not surprising! Well, just now I was joking with you, giving you a cruel lesson... I will pay you your full eighty rubles! The money is all in the envelope! But can a person be so weak? Why did you not protest? Why did you say nothing? In this world, should not people repay evil with evil? Can a person be such a pushover?'

She smiled bitterly, but I saw that the expression on her face clearly said: 'One can.'

I begged her forgiveness for this cruel lesson and gave her the full eighty rubles, which greatly surprised her. She timidly said 'Merci' and walked out... Watching her retreating figure, I could not help but think: In this world, how easy it is to be a strong person!

Seeing such an astonishing ending, Andrei, who had been burning with rage, now fell silent as if struck by a heavy hammer; after this bout of dizziness passed, his face involuntarily burned once again.

Even if he perhaps did not have to face the predicament of the Miss in the text, had he truly never encountered such things? At Kraevsky's place, in front of those Mr. s, was he not also a pushover, daring not to speak a single extra word, daring only to listen?

Thinking of this, Andrei truly wished he could grab the author of this story, seize his hand, and hold on tight, just to ask him one question: 'Then what can be done?'

However, perhaps there was no need to ask, because he seemed to have already written down everything he wanted to say and the proper way to respond.

Just as the young man Andrei oscillated between emotional agitation and deep depression over this story, in another part of St. Petersburg, a young Miss who had deliberately risen very early was now looking somewhat sleepily out the window at the dim scenery, suppressing her drowsiness while waiting for her servant to bring back the book she wished to read.

In this morning that had not yet brightened, as her thoughts swayed unsteadily, she soon thought of the recent correspondence with that writer and poet.

Originally, such developments might not have occurred, but perhaps that night was too stunning, or perhaps the moon that night was too special, or rather, the other party had left an exceptionally profound impression on her; in any case, there was indeed an exchange of letters.

At the beginning, she actually felt it would not last long, but for some reason, everything the other party said always held a strange attraction for this young Miss, especially that cheerful attitude towards life hidden within their witty and leisurely narration, and that uncontrollable sentiment of caring for others, which truly gave her a very different feeling.

It was precisely because of this indescribable good impression that she actively inquired about some matters from others, and after inquiring, was willing to do something for the other party who was currently going through difficult times.

It was somewhat regrettable that this Miss's father was in the prime of his life; she would likely need several more years before possibly inheriting a large estate, so for the time being, she actually could not provide too much money.

However, if the other party had asked her, she certainly could have provided more; unexpectedly, not only did the other party not continue to ask, but even declined, though fortunately, in the end, he chose to accept.

From others, this Miss had basically learned of Mikhail's current situation: his food and lodging were both very ordinary, yet in order to improve his life, he was not only writing manuscripts frantically but had even gone so far as to make a huge gamble, seemingly prepared to stake his entire fortune and take the enormous risk of falling into debt to publish a collection of works.

Although this young Miss had never experienced the feeling of being in debt, that did not hinder her from understanding Mikhail's situation and the risks he might face; it was precisely due to a certain inexplicable worry about Mikhail's circumstances that this Miss suddenly did that thing which seemed somewhat nonsensical.

Yet for some unknown reason, after Nadia inquired with many people in the Cultural Circle, most of them felt that the investment behavior of this promising new star was truly strange, simply as if he had gone mad; otherwise, how could he be so reckless?

But from the correspondence with Mikhail, Nadia felt absolutely nothing amiss with Mikhail; indeed, she would even unconsciously be infected by the positive emotions that flowed from his letters.

So was he well or not? What was his own view of his actions?

These questions still lingered in this Miss's heart until now, but before asking, she very much wanted to see what the new poem he had promised her actually looked like.

Although the other party's poem was written very well, that Mr. Mikhail seemed to rarely put pen to paper; apart from that one poem, not a single other poem of his could be found, which was simply unimaginable among poets in St. Petersburg.

But now, at last, it could be seen again.

This Miss remained immersed in her own thoughts for a long time; by the time she came to her senses, it had already brightened outside, and her family's servant had finally bought back a thick collection of works.

It was clear that to buy this collection of works, her family's servant had exerted great effort; the whole person looked quite wretched, as if he had experienced a rather troublesome battle.

Was it so hard to buy? This Miss began to think: did that mean his investment had succeeded?

Was repaying the debt no longer a problem for him?

Thinking of this, this Miss's mood suddenly brightened at once, so much so that she took this thick collection of works out to the bright place outside, preparing to find the best spot to read.

And when she was ready, she did not hesitate, heading straight for her goal; she even held back from reading the novel first, looking directly at the poems instead.

Thus, Mikhail's new poems were presented before her eyes:

"I came to this world to see the sun,

And the blue plains.

I came to this world to see the sun,

And the continuous mountains.

I came to this world to see the great sea,

And the valleys blooming with flowers."

With just these few short lines, she was instantly drawn into a sense of grandeur and brilliance, and within that feeling, the shadow of someone could be faintly felt:

"I conquered the cold, silent glaciers,

I created my own ideal.

I am filled with inspiration at every moment,

I sing at every moment.

My ideal comes from suffering,

Therefore it is loved by people.

Who can compare with my song?

No one, no one compares.

I came to this world to see the sun,

And once the daylight extinguishes,

I will still sing... I will praise the sun

Until the very last moment of life!"

Ten thousand words presented; please, please give monthly votes. At the beginning of the month, monthly votes are doubled; thank you all.

Also, thanks to "Fengyu Men," "Cat Tired," "Western August 1," "Montpellier Ren," "Iacchos," and "Seventeen's Knife-Shaved Noodles" for their donations; thank you very much!

I'm sleepy; after waking up, I'll continue the battle (tired).

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(End of this chapter)