Dia 24, 15 de março. The spider

«Makov stretched out his hand to his left and patted something in the air, about a foot and a half above the deck. Then he wiped his hand on his knee and said, ‘It’s wet.’

‘What,’ I said, ‘you’ve been living with this spider for twenty years?’

‘Twenty-three. You think I’m crazy? ’Cause it’s hiding from you, isn’t it, that spider. My guardian.’

‘Have you talked to the doctors about it?’

‘Well, really, sir, how could a doctor be any help? This isn’t some abscess that you can lance with a knife; you can’t poison it with medicine; ointments aren’t going to rub it off. And a doctor won’t be able to see it—not that spider.’

‘Does the spider talk to you?’

‘Are you joking?’

[...]

Again he made his stroking movement, touching the damp air.

I stood in silence. I didn’t know what to say to somebody who was living side by side with such a fearful product of his own imagination, and yet wasn’t completely insane.

‘I’ve wanted to discuss this business with you for a long time,’ he said, quietly and pleadingly. ‘You talk boldly about everything. I believe in you. Would you help me out, and tell me what you think: was it God who sent me the spider, as a guardian, or was it the devil?’

‘I don’t know.’

‘You might at least think about it... I reckon it was God, it’s God looking after that man’s soul inside me. He didn’t fancy appointing an angel, I’m not worth an angel. A spider, now that’s cleverer, really. It’s scary—that’s the main thing. Took me ages to get used to it.’

He took off his cap, crossed himself, and said, quietly but with passion, ‘Great and merciful is our God, the father of reason, the shepherd of our souls.’»

Maxim Gorki, The Spider, 1923