But his
voice sounded soft and calm in her ears. She looked askance at
his face, once, and a second time. It was earnest and serious.
"Do you really wish to teach me to read?" she asked with an
involuntary smile.
"Why not?" he responded. "Try! If you once knew how to read, it
will come back to you easily. 'If no miracle it's no ill, and if
a miracle better still!'"
"But they say that one does not become a saint by looking at a
sacred image!"
"Eh," said the Little Russian, nodding his head. "There are
proverbs galore! For example: 'The less you know, the better you
sleep'--isn't that it? Proverbs are the material the stomach thinks
with; it makes bridles for the soul, to be able to control it
better. What the stomach needs is a rest, and the soul needs
freedom. What letter is this?"
"M."
"Yes, see how it sprawls. And this?"
Straining her eyes and moving her eyebrows heavily, she recalled
with an effort the forgotten letters, and unconsciously yielding to
the force of her exertions, she was carried away by them, and forgot
herself. But soon her eyes grew tired. At first they became moist
with tears of fatigue; and then tears of sorrow rapidly dropped down
on the page.
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