VARIATION OF THE CONCLUSION OF
THE DEVIL
"To kill, yes. There were only two ways out: to kill his wife, or to kill her. For it is impossible to live like this," said he to himself, and going up to the table he took from it a revolver which, having examined—one cartridge was wanting—he put in his trouser pocket.
"My God! What am I doing?" he suddenly exclaimed, and folding his hands he began to pray.
"Oh, God, help me and deliver me. Thou knowest that I do not desire evil, but by myself am powerless. Help me," said he, making the sign of the cross on his breast before the icon.
"Yes, I can control myself. I will go out, walk about and think things over."
He went to the entrance-hall, put on his overcoat and went out on to the porch. Unconsciously his steps took him past the garden along the field path to the outlying farmstead. There the thrashing machine was still droning and the cries of the driver-lads were heard. He entered the barn. She was there. He saw her at once. She was raking up the corn, and on seeing him she, with laughing eyes, ran briskly and merrily over the scattered corn, raking it up with agility. Eugene could not help watching her though he did not wish it. He only recollected himself when she was no longer in sight. The clerk informed him that they were now finishing thrashing the corn that had been beaten down—that was why it was going slower and the output was less. Eugene went up to the drum, which occasionally gave a knock as sheaves not evenly fed in passed under it, and he asked the clerk if there were many such sheaves of beaten-down corn.
"There will be five cartloads of it."
"Then look here . . ." began Eugene, but he did not finish the sentence. She had gone close up to the drum and was raking the corn from under it, and she scorched him with her laughing eyes. That look spoke of a merry careless love between them, of the fact that she knew he wanted her and had come to her shed, and that she, as always, was ready to live and be merry with him regardless of all conditions or consequences. Eugene felt himself to be in her power, but did not wish to yield.
He remembered his prayer and tried to repeat it. He began saying it to himself, but at once felt that it was useless. A single thought now engrossed him entirely: how to arrange a meeting with her so that the others should not notice it.
"If we finish this lot to-day, are we to start on a fresh stack or leave it till to-morrow?" asked the clerk.
"Yes, yes," replied Eugene, involuntarily following her to the heap to which with the other women she was raking the corn.
"But can I really not master myself?" said he to himself. "Have I really perished? Oh, God! But there is no God. There is only a devil. And it is she. She has possessed me. But I won't, I won't! A devil, yes, a devil."
Again he went up to her, drew the revolver from his pocket and shot her, once, twice, thrice, in the back. She ran a few steps and fell on the heap of corn.
"Good Lord, oh dear! What is that?" cried the women.
"No, it was not an accident. I killed her on purpose," cried Eugene. "Send for the police-officer."
He went home and, without speaking to his wife, went to his study and locked himself in.
"Do not come to me," he cried to his wife through the door. "You will know all about it."
An hour later he rang, and bade the man-servant who answered the bell: "Go and find out whether Stepanida is alive."
The servant already knew all about it, and told him she had died an hour ago.
"Well, all right. Now leave me alone,—when the police-officer or the magistrate comes, let me know."
The police-officer and magistrate arrived next morning, and Eugene, having bidden his wife and the baby farewell, was taken to prison.
He was tried. It was during the early days of trial by jury;[5] and the verdict was one of temporary insanity, and he was sentenced only to perform church penance.
He had been kept in prison for nine months and was then confined in a monastery for one month.