The Petty Demon by Fyodor Sologub Page B

all?”
    Varvara laughed and replied:
    “Now what would I need them for!”
    “If you don’t mind I should like to gather some from you, we don’t have any,” Prepolovenskaya said.
    “What do you need them for?” Varvara asked in amazement.
    “I’ve got a use for them,” Prepolovenskaya said laughingly.
    “Honey, tell me what for?” Varvara asked with curiosity.
    Leaning over to Varvara’s ear Prepolovenskaya whispered:
    “Rub yourself with nettles and you won’t lose any weight. My Genichka became such a fatty from using nettles.”
    She was aware that Peredonov gave preference to fat women and disapproved of skinny ones. Varvara was crushed by the fact
     that she was slender and getting thinner. How could she put some more weight on? That was one of her most important concerns.
     She had asked everyone whether they knew of any means. Now Prepolovenskaya was certain that Varvara, following her suggestion,
     would zealously rub herself all over with nettles and in this way punish herself.

III
    P EREDONOV AND E RSHOVA came outside. He muttered:
    “Well, who would have thought it possible.”
    She was shouting at the top of her voice and was happy. They were going to dance. Prepolovenskaya and Varvara crept back into
     the rooms through the kitchen and sat down by the window to watch what would happen outside.
    Peredonov and Ershova took hold of each other and started up a dance around the pear tree. Peredonov’s face retained its customary
     dull expression and displayed nothing. The gold spectacles and the short hair on his head were bobbing up and down mechanically
     as though on some inanimate thing. Ershova was squealing, shouting and waving her hands while her whole body reeled.
    She shouted to Varvara through the window:
    “Hey, you prig, come on out and dance! You ashamed of our company?”
    Varvara turned away.
    “To hell with you! I’m dead on my feet!” Ershova shouted, collapsed on the grass and pulled Peredonov down with her.
    They sat a while in each other’s arms and then they started dancing again. And so it continued a number of times: first they
     would dance a while, then rest under the pear tree, on a bench or right on the grass.
    Volodin was genuinely enjoying himself looking out the window at the dancers. He was roaring with laughter, making killingly
     funny faces, clowning, bending his knees up and screeching:
    “They’re really going at it now! Great fun!”
    “Damned bitch!” Varvara said angrily.
    “Bitch,” Volodin agreed, laughing. “Just you wait, my dear old landlady, I’m going to do you a nice favor. Let’s make a mess
     in the living room too. It doesn’t matter now, she won’t be back today, she’ll fag herself out there on the grass and then
     go home to sleep.”
    He dissolved in a bleating laugh and started to prance like a sheep. Prepolovenskaya played the instigator:
    “Of course, go ahead and make a mess, Pavel Vasilyevich, no need to play up to her. If she does come then you can tell her
     that she did it herself in a drunken state.”
    Jumping up and down and guffawing, Volodin ran off into the living room and started to scrape the wallpaper with the soles
     of his shoes.
    “Varvara Dmitrievna, give me some rope,” he cried.
    Waddling like a duck, Varvara crossed the living room into the bedroom and brought back the end of a rope that was shredded
     and knotted. Volodin made a noose, stood a chair in the middle of the room and hung the noose on the lamp hook.
    “That’s for the landlady!” he shouted. “So she’ll have something to hang herself with out of anger when you move out.”
    Both women squealed with laughter.
    “Give me a bit of paper,” Volodin shouted, “and a pencil.”
    Varvara rummaged around in the bedroom again and brought out a scrap of paper and a pencil. Volodin wrote “for the landlady”
     and fastened the paper to the noose. He accompanied all of this with amusing faces. Then once more he began to jump up and
     down