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70 | Pioneers 23 Mirkin set off to see Kapluner. Upset by his meeting with Geverman’s mother, he walked hurriedly, his head bowed, considering how best to convey to Geverman the conversation he’d had with his mother. However much Esther had won his sympathy, he still didn’t take her side in the matter; he repeated to himself that mothers, with their concessions, tears, and solicitude, could be more dangerous than the strictest, most threatening fathers. He decided to convey to Geverman his mother’s proposition in the most objective form and to allow him to decide for himself whether or not to return home. “Gre-e-etings, Mirkin!” Coming from behind he suddenly heard a joyful exclamation uttered in a woman’s extended singsong. Turning around, he saw his former pupil, a young woman with a broad face, a pitiful expression, and very kind eyes. She was dressed poorly, like a worker. This meeting with Mirkin, apparently, cheered her up significantly. “Ah, Genesina! How are you?” Mirkin greeted her warmly. “Oy, how pleased I am to see you,” the young woman continued. “I tell you, if I’d found a treasure—I wouldn’t be nearly as happy. . . . I thought you’d left a long time ago. . . .” “No, I didn’t.” “Oy, then why haven’t you been to see us in so long?” she continued with an imploring reproach. “You know that if you’d come, we’d have had a real holiday! The children remember you to this day and keep repeating, ‘Oy, when will the teacher Mirkin come again?’ And I . . . I tell you . . . I can’t express. . . .” “I didn’t have time,” Mirkin replied in embarrassment. “I’ll certainly stop by this week. . . . And how are you?” he tried to change the subject. “How am I?” Genesina repeated dully and plaintively. “My mother’s still ill. Shendel and I work at the cigarette factory. . . . We have to work all day—there’s no time to study. That’s the greatest sorrow. . . . But I’ll try to save a little money— then I’ll quit work and begin studying. . . . If only you knew how much I wanted to study!” “I’ll definitely begin to tutor you again!” Mirkin promised. He felt the pangs of conscience—several months before he’d stopped working with Genesina and her sister because of his lack of time; then he forgot all about them. “Oy, you’ve revived me!” Genesina said, overjoyed. “I tell you, if I’d found a treasure—I wouldn’t be . . .” Mirkin repeated his promise, said a hasty goodbye, and then headed for Kapluner ’s place. Pioneers | 71 1. Afanasy Fet (1820–92), a Russian poet whose lyrics dealt primarily with nature, love, and philosophical themes; Apollon Maikov (1821–97), a lyrical poet known for his aesthetic tendency that rejected the call to devote one’s art to contemporary social problems. 2. Aleksandr Sheller Mikhailov (1838–1900), author of numerous didactic novels of Russian life in the 1860s that idealized progressive forces in society. While he was still in the entrance hall, sounds of a passionate argument being waged by young voices reached him. Kapluner jumped up and went running out of the room to meet him; he was wearing an unbuttoned uniform, and his hair was tousled. “Ah! It’s you!” he cried excitedly. “People have gathered here and we’re having an argument. It’s very interesting!” “Well, read it! Revel in it! And to hell with you! I’ve known you to be a philistine for a long time!!!” Mirkin heard Geverman’s exclamation of disgust just as he entered the room. “Who’s the philistine here? Who?” Mirkin asked, looking around with his nearsighted eyes and smiling. “He is!!” cried Geverman shrilly from where he was standing at the window, pointing at the gymnasium student who lay sprawling on the bed, stretched to his full height, his hands folded under his head. “I’mthephilistine!”heconfirmedserenely,evenwithatraceof self-satisfaction. “I’m Tsivershtein! Do you understand? I’m a philistine because I’m reading Dostoevsky !” “We’ll live to see him reading Fet and Maikov!”1 Geverman continued with indignation. “Maybe you will live to see it! I’m capable of anything!” Tsivershtein replied to him in his previous serene and sarcastic tone. “Wait a minute, what are you arguing about?” Mirkin intervened. “You see,” Kapluner spoke up excitedly. “Tsivershtein maintains that Dostoevsky is higher than Mikhailov.”2 “You idiot!” Geverman put in. “I...

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