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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d7b82bc --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,4 @@ +*.txt text eol=lf +*.htm text eol=lf +*.html text eol=lf +*.md text eol=lf diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..4ea8c48 --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #62555 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/62555) diff --git a/old/62555-0.txt b/old/62555-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 155a108..0000000 --- a/old/62555-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,8736 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg EBook of Makar's Dream and Other Stories, by -Vladimir Galaktionovich Korolenko - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most -other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of -the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - -Title: Makar's Dream and Other Stories - -Author: Vladimir Galaktionovich Korolenko - -Translator: Marian Fell - -Release Date: October 2, 2020 [EBook #62555] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MAKAR'S DREAM AND OTHER STORIES *** - - - - -Produced by David E. Brown and The Online Distributed -Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was -produced from images generously made available by The -Internet Archive/American Libraries.) - - - - - - - - - - MAKAR’S DREAM - AND OTHER STORIES - - -[Illustration: VLADIMIR KOROLENKO] - - - - - MAKAR’S DREAM - AND OTHER STORIES - - BY - VLADIMIR KOROLENKO - - TRANSLATED FROM THE RUSSIAN WITH AN - INTRODUCTION BY - - MARIAN FELL - - [Illustration] - - NEW YORK - DUFFIELD AND COMPANY - 1916 - - - - - COPYRIGHT, 1916, BY - DUFFIELD & CO. - - - - -INTRODUCTION - - - - -VLADIMIR KOROLENKO - - -The writings of Vladimir Korolenko have been likened to “a fresh breeze -blowing through the heavy air of a hospital.” The hospital is the -pessimistic literature of the modern Russian intellectuals; the fresh -breeze is the voice of the simple-hearted children of “Mother Russia.” -These are for the most part tillers of the soil and conquerors of waste -places; peasants, pioneers, and Siberian exiles; they often belong to -the great class of “the insulted and the injured”: they suffer untold -hardships, but their heads are unbowed and their hearts are full of -courage and the desire for justice. Among them the great writer’s early -life was spent. - -Vladimir Korolenko was born on June 15th, 1853, in Zhitomir, a -small town in Southwestern or Little Russia. On his father’s side -he came of an old Cossack family, his mother was the daughter of a -Polish landowner of Zhitomir. The boy’s early life was spent amidst -picturesque surroundings; he grew up among the Poles, Jews, and -light-hearted, dark-eyed peasants that make up the population of Little -Russia, and he never lost the poetic love of nature and the wholesome -sense of humour that were nurtured in him under those warm, bright -skies. In his story entitled “In Bad Company” he has vividly described -the romantic little town that was the home of his childhood. The stern -but just judge of that tale is more or less the prototype of his own -father. The elder Korolenko was distinguished for an impeccable honesty -of practice rare in an official of those times; consequently, when he -died in 1870, he left his widow and five children without the slightest -means of support. Thanks, however, to the energy of his heroic mother, -Vladimir was enabled at seventeen to enter the School of Technology in -Petrograd. - -Then followed three years of struggle to combine his schooling with the -necessity for earning a living, during which Korolenko himself says -that he does not know how he managed to escape starvation. Even a cheap -dinner of eighteen copecks or nine cents was such a luxury to him in -those days that he only treated himself to it six or seven times during -the course of one whole year. - -In 1874 the young student went to Moscow with ten hard-earned roubles -in his pocket and entered the Petrovski Academy, but he was soon -expelled from that seat of learning for presenting a petition from -his fellow-students to the Director of the College. He returned to -Petrograd where his family were now living, and he and his brother -made a desperate attempt to support themselves and their brothers and -sisters by proof-reading. The future author began sending articles -to the newspapers and magazines, and it was then that occurred the -first of the series of arrests to which he was subjected for what -were considered his advanced social doctrines. He was sent first to -Kronstadt for a year and then to Viatka; thence he travelled to Perm, -and from Perm to Tomsk; at last he was finally exiled to the distant -eastern Siberian province of Yakutsk. - -There he spent nearly six years, the most valuable, to him, of his -whole life. The vast forest that clothes those far northeastern -marshes, grand, gloomy, and held forever in the grip of a deadly cold, -made an indelible impression on the imagination of the young artist. -He was profoundly moved by the sorrows of the half-savage pioneers -inhabiting its trackless solitudes, by the indomitable spirit of -his fellow-exiles, and by the adventurous life of the “brodiagi” or -wanderers, convicts escaped from prison who return secretly on foot -to their “Mother Russia” across the whole breadth of the Siberian -continent. - -Korolenko was released from exile in 1885, and immediately on his -return to Russia published his beautiful “Makar’s Dream.” - -The success of the story was immediate, the fame of the author was -at once assured. No politics, no social doctrines were here; the -appeal of Makar’s plea was universal; liberal and conservative critics -alike united in a chorus of praise. The Russian reading public was -charmed by the originality of the subject, the radiant conciseness -of the author’s style, and the lyric beauty of the story’s end which -illuminates with deep significance every detail that has gone before. -Poor Makar, most lonely dweller in the Siberian forest, leading a life -of incredible labour and hardship, finally dies, and for his sins is -condemned at the Judgment of the Great Toyon, or Chief, to suffer in -the life hereafter sorrows and toil more grievous than any he has known -on earth. Here is the type of “the insulted and the injured” beloved of -Dostoievsky and Tolstoi, but with one supreme difference: Makar does -not suffer misfortune in passive dejection, he protests. He protests -indignantly against the injustice of the judgment of the Great Toyon. -Life for him has been desperately hard; it is unjust to judge him by -the standards set for the righteous whom the Toyon loves, “whose faces -are bathed in perfume and whose garments are sewn by other hands than -their own.” This protest, combined with a warm love for all humanity, -was to become the keynote of Korolenko’s writings. - -His next story, “In Bad Company,” appeared in the same year, and added -still more to the young author’s popularity. It is a general favourite -in Russia to this day. Though its style is slightly tainted with a -flowery Polish exuberance, the descriptions of the old feudal ruins -are full of poetry, the children are drawn with sympathy and insight, -and the vagabond Turkevich, in his tragi-comic rôle of the Prophet -Jeremiah, sounds an unmistakable note of protest. - -“The Murmuring Forest” was published in 1886, and is a darkly romantic -tale of the dreaming pine forests of Southern Russia, written in the -style of an ancient legend. Here the protest of the Cossack Opanas and -the forester Raman is blind and rude and brings death to their highborn -oppressor, but the plot is laid in feudal times and the need of the -serfs was great. The voice of the wind in the tree-tops dominates -the unfolding of the simple story like a resonant chord, and when at -last fierce justice is done to the tyrant Count, its advent seems as -inevitable as the breaking of the thunder-storm that, during the whole -course of the tale, has been brewing over the forest. - -“The Day of Atonement” is one of Korolenko’s lightest and gayest -stories. In describing the merry life of the South, the Little -Russian’s kindly humour joins hands with his glowing imagination, and -we have a vivid glimpse of a cosy village surrounded by cherry gardens -and bathed in warm moonlight; of black-eyed girls, of timid, bustling -Jews, of superstitious townsmen, of a canny miller; in short, of all -the busy, active life of a town within the Jewish Pale. - -But grave or gay, merry or sad, Korolenko is above all things an -optimist in his outlook on the world. Through thick and thin, through -sorrow and misfortune, the poor, artless heroes of his stories all -turn their faces towards the light. The writer’s kind heart never -ceases its search for the “eternally human” in every man, and deeply -does he sympathise with mankind’s unquenchable desire for freedom and -justice, which can face evil unafraid. He himself has said in a letter -to a friend: “The Universe is not the sport of accidental forces. -Determinism, Evolution, and all other theories lead one to confess that -there is a law which is drawing us toward something; toward something -which we call ‘good’ in all its manifestations, that is to say toward -kindness, truth, right, beauty, and justice.” - -That is the burden of Korolenko’s message to the world, embodied in all -his writings. - -On his return from Siberia, Korolenko went to live in Nijni-Novgorod -and there took an active part in bettering the conditions of life among -“the insulted and the injured” whom he loved. In a year of famine he -worked hard to organise free kitchens for the starving poor, and many -energetic articles from his pen were published in the papers. He also -continued to produce stories, sketches, and several longer novels, of -which the best known is the “Blind Musician.” - -In 1894 he made a journey to England and America, and on his return -wrote an amusing record of his travels entitled: “Without a Tongue.” - -In 1895 he became the editor of the magazine, _Russkoye Bogatsvo_, and -since that date the great story writer has definitely devoted himself -to journalism, and has now become one of Russia’s greatest publicists. - -The Russian heart is essentially charitable and full of human kindness. -Thoroughly democratic in their relations with one another, the Russian -people have the misfortune to labour under the harshest political -régime in Europe. Like many of his countrymen, Korolenko now devotes -his life to the cause of the suffering and the downtrodden, and to -helping those who are the victims of social and political injustice. - - - - -CONTENTS - - - PAGE - - INTRODUCTION v - - MAKAR’S DREAM 1 - - THE MURMURING FOREST 49 - - IN BAD COMPANY 89 - - THE DAY OF ATONEMENT 191 - - - - -MAKAR’S DREAM - - - - -MAKAR’S DREAM - -A CHRISTMAS STORY - - -This dream was dreamed by poor Makar, who herded his calves in a stern -and distant land, by that same Makar upon whose head all troubles are -said to fall. - -Makar’s birth place was the lonely village of Chalgan, lost in the far -forests of Yakutsk. His parents and grandparents had wrested a strip of -land from the forest, and their courage had not failed even when the -dark thickets still stood about them like a hostile wall. Rail fences -began to stretch across the clearing; small, smoky huts began to crowd -thickly upon it; hay and straw stacks sprang up; and at last, from a -knoll in the centre of the encampment, a church spire had shot toward -heaven like a banner of victory. - -Chalgan had become a village. - -But while Makar’s forbears had been striving with the forest, burning -it with fire and hewing it with steel, they themselves had slowly -become savage in their turn. They married Yakut women, spoke the -language of the Yakuts, adopted their customs, and gradually in them -the characteristics of the Great Russian race had been obliterated and -lost. - -Nevertheless, my Makar firmly believed that he was a Russian peasant of -Chalgan, and not a nomad Yakut. In Chalgan he had been born, there he -had lived and there he meant to die. He was very proud of his birth and -station, and when he wished to vilify his fellow-townsmen would call -them “heathen Yakuts,” though if the truth must be told, he differed -from them neither in habits nor manner of living. He seldom spoke -Russian and, when he did, spoke it badly. He dressed in skins, wore -“torbas” on his feet, ate dough-cakes and drank brick-tea, supplemented -on holidays and special occasions with as much cooked butter as -happened to be on the table before him. He could ride very skilfully -on an ox, and when he fell ill he always summoned a wizard, who would -go mad and spring at him, gnashing his teeth, hoping to frighten the -malady out of his patient and so drive it away. - -Makar worked desperately hard, lived in poverty, and suffered from -hunger and cold. Had he a thought beyond his unceasing anxiety to -obtain his dough-cakes and brick-tea? Yes, he had. - -When he was drunk, he would weep and cry: “Oh, Lord my God, what a -life!” sometimes adding that he would like to give it all up and go -up on to the “mountain.” There he need neither sow nor reap, nor cut -and haul wood, nor even grind grain on a hand millstone. He would -“be saved,” that was all. He did not know exactly where the mountain -was, nor what it was like, he only knew that there was such a place, -and that it was somewhere far away, so far that there not even the -District Policeman could find him. Of course there he would pay no -taxes. - -When sober he abandoned these thoughts, realising perchance the -impossibility of finding that beautiful mountain, but when drunk he -grew bolder. Admitting that he might not find that particular mountain, -but some other, he would say: “In that case I should die.” But he was -prepared to start, nevertheless. If he did not carry out his intention, -it was because the Tartars in the village always sold him vile vodka -with an infusion of mahorka[A] for strength, and this quickly made him -ill and laid him by the heels. - -It was Christmas Eve, and Makar knew that to-morrow would be a great -holiday. This being the case, he was overpowered with a longing for -drink, but to drink there was nothing. His resources were at an end. -His flour was all gone, he was already in debt to the village merchants -and Tartars, yet to-morrow was a great holiday, he would not be able to -work, what could he do if he did not get drunk? This reflection made -him unhappy. What a life it was! He had not even one bottle of vodka to -drink on the great winter holiday. - -Then a happy thought came to him. He got up and put on his ragged fur -coat. His wife, a sturdy, sinewy woman, remarkably strong and equally -remarkably ugly, who saw through all his simple wiles, guessed his -intentions as usual. - -“Where are you going, you wretch? To drink vodka alone?” - -“Be quiet. I’m going to buy one bottle. We’ll drink it together -to-morrow.” - -He gave her a sly wink and clapped her on the shoulder with such force -that she staggered. A woman’s heart is like that; though she knew that -Makar was deceiving her, she surrendered to the charms of that conjugal -caress. - -He went out of the house, caught his old piebald pony in the courtyard, -led him by the mane to the sleigh, and put him in harness. The piebald -soon carried Makar through the gates and then stopped and looked -enquiringly at his Master, who was sitting plunged in thought. At this -Makar pulled the left rein, and drove away to the outskirts of the -village. - -On the edge of the village stood a little hut out of which, as out of -the other huts, the smoke of a little fire rose high, high into the -air, veiling the bright moon and the white, glittering hosts of stars. -The flames crackled merrily and sparkled through the dim icicles that -hung about the doorway. All was quiet inside the courtyard gates. - -Strangers from a foreign land lived here. How they had come, what -tempest had cast them up in that lonely clearing, Makar knew not, -neither cared to know, but he liked to trade with them, for they -neither pressed him too hard nor insisted upon payment. - -On entering the hut, Makar went straight to the fireplace and stretched -out his frozen hands over the blaze, crying “Tcha” to explain how the -frost had nipped him. - -The foreigners were at home; a candle was burning on the table although -no work was being done. One man was lying on the bed blowing rings of -smoke, pensively following their winding curves with his eyes, and -intertwining with them the long threads of his thoughts. - -The other was sitting over the fire thoughtfully watching the sparks -that crept across the burning wood. - -“Hello!” said Makar, to break the oppressive silence. - -He did not know--how should he--the sadness that filled the hearts of -the two strangers, the memories that crowded their brains that evening, -the visions they saw in the fantastic play of fire and smoke. Besides, -he had troubles of his own. - -The young man who sat by the chimney raised his head and looked at -Makar with puzzled eyes, as if not recognising him. Then, with a shake -of his head, he quickly got up from his chair. - -“Ah, good evening, good evening, Makar. Good. Will you have tea with -us?” - -“Tea?” Makar repeated after him. “That’s good. That’s good, brother; -that’s fine.” - -He began quickly to take off his things. Once free of his fur coat and -cap he felt more at his ease, and, seeing the red coals already glowing -in the samovar, he turned to the young man with exaggerated enthusiasm. - -“I like you, that is the truth. I like you so, so very much; at night I -don’t sleep----” - -The stranger turned, and a bitter smile crept over his face. - -“You like me, do you?” he asked. “What do you want?” - -“Business,” Makar answered. “But how did you know?” - -“All right. When I’ve had tea I’ll tell you.” - -As his hosts themselves had offered him tea, Makar thought the moment -opportune to press the point farther. - -“Have you any roast meat?” he asked. “I like it.” - -“No, we haven’t.” - -“Well, never mind,” replied Makar soothingly. “We’ll have that some -other time, won’t we?” And he repeated his question: “We’ll have that -some other time?” - -“Very well.” - -Makar now considered that the strangers owed him a piece of roast -meat, and he never failed to collect a debt of this kind. - -Another hour found him seated once more in his sled, having made -one whole rouble by selling five loads of wood in advance on fairly -good terms. Now, although he had vowed and sworn not to drink up the -money until to-morrow, he nevertheless made up his mind to do so -without delay. What odds? The pleasure ahead silenced the voice of his -conscience; he even forgot the cruel drubbing in store for his drunken -self from his wife, the faithful and the deceived. - -“Where are you going, Makar?” called the stranger laughing, as Makar’s -horse, instead of going straight ahead, turned off to the left in the -direction of the Tartar settlement. - -“Whoa! Whoa! Will you look where the brute is going?” cried Makar to -exculpate himself, tugging hard at the left rein nevertheless and slyly -slapping his pony’s side with the right. - -The clever little horse stumbled patiently away in the direction -required by his master, and the scraping of the runners soon stopped in -front of a Tartar house. - - * * * * * - -At the gate stood several horses with high-peaked Yakut saddles on -their backs. - -The air in the crowded hut was stifling and hot; a dense cloud of acrid -mahorka smoke hung in the air and wound slowly up the chimney. Yakut -visitors were sitting on benches about the room or had clustered around -the tables set with mugs full of vodka. Here and there little groups -were gathered over a game of cards. The faces of all were flushed and -shining with sweat. The eyes of the gamblers were fiercely intent on -their play, and the money came and went in a flash from pocket to -pocket. On a pile of straw in a corner sat a drunken Yakut, rocking his -body to and fro and droning an endless song. He drew the wild, rasping -sounds from his throat in every possible key, repeating always that -to-morrow was a great holiday and that to-day he was drunk. - -Makar paid his rouble and received in return a bottle of vodka. He -slipped it into the breast of his coat and retired unnoticed into a -corner. There he filled mug after mug in rapid succession and gulped -them down one after another. The liquor was vile, diluted for the -holiday with more than three quarters of water, but if the dole of -vodka was scant, the mahorka had not been stinted. Makar caught his -breath after each draught, and purple spots circled before his eyes. - -The liquor soon overpowered him; he also sank down on the straw, folded -his arms around his knees, and laid his heavy head upon them. The same -dreary, rasping sounds burst of their own accord from his throat; he -sang that to-morrow was a great holiday and that he had drunk up five -loads of wood. - -Meanwhile the hut was filling with other Yakuts who had come to town -to go to church and to drink Tartar vodka, and the host saw that soon -there would be no room for more. He rose from the table and looked at -the company, and, as he did so, his eye fell upon Makar and the Yakut -sitting in their dark corner. He made his way to the Yakut, seized him -by the coat collar, and flung him out of the hut. Then he approached -Makar. - -As a citizen of Chalgan, the Tartar showed him greater respect; -he threw the door open wide and gave the poor fellow such a kick -from behind that Makar shot out of the hut and buried his nose in a -snow-drift. - -It would be difficult to say whether Makar was offended by this -treatment or not. He felt snow up his sleeves and on his face, picked -himself up somehow out of the drift, and staggered to where his piebald -was standing. - -The moon had by now risen high in the heavens and the tail of the Great -Bear was dipping toward the horizon. The cold was tightening its grasp. -The first fiery shafts of the Aurora were flaring up fitfully out of a -dark, semicircular cloud in the north and playing softly across the sky. - -The piebald, realising, it seemed, his master’s condition, trudged -carefully and soberly homeward. Makar sat in his sled, swaying from -side to side, and continued his song. He sang that he had drunk away -five loads of wood, and that his old woman would kill him when he got -home. - -The sounds that burst from his throat rasped and groaned so dismally -through the evening air that his friend the foreigner, who had climbed -up on to his roof to close the mouth of the chimney, felt more than -ever unhappy at the sound of Makar’s song. - -Meanwhile the piebald had drawn the sled to the top of a little hill -from where the surrounding country could be distinctly seen. The snowy -expanse lay shining brightly, bathed in the rays of the moon, but from -time to time the moonlight faded and the white fields grew dark until, -with a sudden flash, the radiance of the Northern Lights streamed -across them. Then it seemed as if the snowy hills and the forest that -clothed them were coming very close, to withdraw once again into the -distant shadow. Makar spied plainly through the trees the silvery bald -crown of the little knoll behind which his traps were waiting for all -the wild dwellers of the forest. The sight of this hill changed the -tenor of his thoughts. He sang that a fox had been caught in one of his -snares; he would sell the pelt in the morning, and so his wife would -not kill him. - -The first chimes of the church bells were ringing through the frosty -air as Makar re-entered his hut. His first words were to tell his -wife that a fox had been caught in one of his traps, and as he had -forgotten entirely that the old woman had not shared his vodka, he was -violently surprised when she gave him a cruel kick, without paying any -attention to his good news. - -Later, as he lay prostrate on the bed, she managed to give him another -blow in the back with her fist. - -Meanwhile the solemn, festal chiming of the bells broke over Chalgan -and floated far, far away into the distance. - - * * * * * - -He lay on his bed with his head burning and his vitals on fire. The -strong mixture of vodka and mahorka was coursing through his veins, and -trickles of melted snow were running down his face and back. - -His wife thought him asleep, but he was not sleeping. He could not get -the idea of that fox out of his head. He had succeeded in convincing -himself absolutely that a fox had been caught in one of his traps, -and he even knew which trap it was. He saw the fox pinned under the -heavy log, saw it tearing at the snow with its claws and struggling to -be free, while the moonbeams stole into the thicket and played over -its red-gold fur. The eyes of the wild creature were glowing at his -approach. - -He could stand it no longer. He rose from his bed, and started to find -his faithful pony who was to carry him into the forest. - -But what was this? Had the strong arms of his wife really seized him -by the collar of his fur coat and thrown him back on the bed? - -No, here he was, already beyond the village. The runners of his sleigh -were creaking smoothly over the hard snow. Chalgan had been left -behind. The solemn tones of the church bells came floating along his -trail, and on the black line of the horizon bands of dark horsemen in -tall, pointed hats were silhouetted against the bright sky. The Yakuts -were hurrying to church. - -The moon went down, and a small, whitish cloud appeared in the zenith, -shining with suffused, phosphorescent lustre. It gathered size, it -broke, it flickered, and rays of iridescent light spread swiftly from -it in all directions, while the dark, semicircular cloud in the north -grew blacker and blacker, more sombre than the forest which Makar was -approaching. - -The road wound through a dense, low thicket with little hills rising on -either hand; the farther it advanced, the higher grew the trees, until -at last the taiga[B] closed about it, mute and pregnant with mystery. -The naked branches of the larches drooped under their loads of silvery -rime. The soft radiance of the Aurora filtered through the tree-tops, -and strayed across the frosty earth, unveiling now an icy glade, now -the fallen trunk of some giant of the forest half buried in the snow. - -Another moment, and again all was sunk in murky darkness, full-fraught -with secrecy and silence. Makar stopped. Here, almost at the side of -the road, were set the first units of an elaborate system of traps. -He could see clearly in the phosphorescent light the low stockade of -fallen timber and the first trap--three long, heavy logs resting upon -an upright post, and held in place by a complicated arrangement of -levers and horse-hair ropes. - -To be sure, these traps were not his, but might not a fox have been -caught in them, too? Makar quickly got out of his sled, left the clever -piebald standing in the road, and listened attentively. - -Not a sound in the forest! Only the solemn ringing of the church bells -came floating as before from the distant, invisible village. - -There was nothing to fear. Aliosha, the owner of the traps and Makar’s -neighbour and bitter enemy, was no doubt in church. Not a track could -be seen on the smooth breast of the new-fallen snow. - -Makar struck into the thicket--no one was there. - -The snow creaked under foot. The log traps lay side by side like a row -of cannon with gaping jaws, in silent expectation. - -Makar walked up and down the line without finding anything, and turned -back to the road. - -But what was that? A faint rustle! The gleam of red fur near at hand in -a spot of light! Makar saw clearly the pointed ears of a fox; it waved -its bushy tail from side to side as if to beckon him into the forest, -and vanished among the tree-trunks in the direction of his traps. Next -moment a dull, heavy thud resounded through the forest, ringing out -clearly at first, and then echoing more faintly under the canopy of -trees, until it died softly away in the dark abysses of the taiga. - -Makar’s heart leapt--a trap had fallen! - -He sprang toward the sound, pushing his way through the undergrowth. -The icy twigs whipped his eyes and showered snow in his face; he -stumbled and lost his breath. - -At last he ran into a clearing that he himself had made. Hoary white -trees surrounded the little glade, and a shrinking path crept across -it, with the mouth of a large trap guarding its farther end. A few -steps more and---- - -Suddenly, the figure of a man appeared on the path near the -trap--appeared and vanished. Makar recognised Aliosha. He saw -distinctly his short, massive, stooping form and his walk like a -bear’s. His dark face looked blacker than he had ever seen it, Makar -thought, and his large teeth showed in a wider grin than ever. - -Makar was seized with genuine anger. “The scoundrel! He has been at my -traps!” It was true that Makar had just made the round of Aliosha’s -traps, but that was a different matter. The difference was that when he -visited other men’s traps he felt afraid of being discovered, but when -others came to his traps, he felt indignation and a longing to lay -hands on the man who had violated his rights. - -He darted toward the fallen trap. There was the fox! Aliosha, too, was -approaching with his shuffling bear’s walk; Makar must reach the trap -first! - -There lay the fallen log and under it glistened the ruddy coat of the -captive creature. The fox was scratching at the snow with its paws -exactly as Makar had seen it scratch in his dream, and was watching his -approach with bright, burning eyes, just as he had dreamt that it would. - -“Titima! (Don’t touch it!) It is mine!” cried Makar to Aliosha. - -“Titima!” came Aliosha’s voice like an echo. “It is mine!” - -Both men ran up at the same moment, and both began quickly to raise the -log, freeing the animal beneath it. As the log was lifted the fox rose -too. It gave a little jump, stopped, looked at the two men with mocking -eyes, and then, lowering its nose, licked the place that had been -caught under the log. This done it hopped gaily away with a farewell -flirt of its tail. - -Aliosha would have thrown himself after it, but Makar caught him by the -coat tails. - -“Titima!” he cried. “It is mine!” And he started after the fox. - -“Titima!” echoed Aliosha’s voice again, and Makar felt himself seized, -in turn, by the tails of his coat, and saw Aliosha dart forward. - -Makar was furious. He forgot the fox and rushed after Aliosha, who now -turned to flee. - -They ran faster and faster. The twigs of the larches knocked the cap -from Aliosha’s head, but he could not stop to regain it. Makar was -already upon him with a fierce cry. But Aliosha had always been more -crafty than poor Makar. He suddenly stopped, turned round, and lowered -his head; Makar ran straight into it with his stomach and turned head -over heels in the snow. As he fell, that infernal Aliosha snatched the -cap from his head and vanished into the forest. - -Makar rose slowly to his feet. He felt thoroughly beaten and miserable. -The state of his mind was pitiful. The fox had been in his hands and -now--he thought he saw it again in the darkening forest wave its tail -gaily once more and vanish forever. - -Darkness was falling. The little white cloud in the zenith could barely -be seen, and beams of fading light were flowing wearily and languidly -from it as it gently melted away. - -Sharp rivulets of icy water were running in streams over Makar’s heated -body; the snow had gone up his sleeves and was trickling down his back -and into his boots. That infernal Aliosha had taken away his cap and -Makar well knew that the pitiless cold does not jest with men who go -into the taiga without gloves and without a hat. - -He had already walked far. According to his calculations he should long -since have been in sight of the church steeple, but here he was still -in the forest. The taiga held him in its embrace like a witch. The same -solemn ringing came to his ears from afar; he thought he was walking -toward it, but the sound kept growing more and more distant, and a dull -despair crept into Makar’s heart as its echoes came ever more faintly -to his ears. - -He was tired; he was choking; his legs were shaking under him. His -bruised body ached miserably, his breathing strangled him, his feet and -hands were growing numb, and red-hot bands seemed tightening around his -bare head. - -“I shall die!” came more and more frequently into his mind, but still -he walked on. - -The taiga held its peace. It closed about him with obdurate hostility -and gave him no light and no hope. - -“I shall die!” Makar kept thinking. - -His strength left him altogether. The saplings now beat him squarely in -the face without the least shame, in derision at his helpless plight. -As he crossed one little glade a white hare ran out, sat up on its hind -legs, waved its long, black-tipped ears, and began to wash its face, -making the rudest grimaces at Makar. It gave him to understand that it -knew him well, knew him to be the same Makar who had devised cunning -means of destruction for it in the forest; but now it was its turn to -jeer. - -Makar felt bitterly sad. The taiga grew more animated, but with a -malign activity. Even the distant trees now threw their long branches -across his way, snatched at his hair, and beat his face and eyes. The -ptarmigans came out of their secret coverts and fixed their round, -curious eyes upon him, and the wood-grouse ran in and out among them -with drooping tails and angry, spreading wings, loudly telling their -mates of him, Makar, and of his snares. Finally, a thousand fox-faces -glanced from the distant thickets; they sniffed the air and looked -derisively at him, pricking their sharp ears. Then the hares came and -stood on their hind legs before him and shouted with laughter as they -told of Makar’s misfortune. - -That was too much. - -“I shall die!” thought Makar, and he decided to do so as quickly as -possible. - -He lay down on the snow. - -The cold increased. The last rays of the Aurora flickered faintly and -stretched across the sky to peep at Makar through the tree-tops. The -last echoes of the church bells came floating to him from far-away -Chalgan. - -The Northern Lights flared up and went out. The bells ceased ringing. - -Makar died. - - * * * * * - -He did not notice how this came to pass. He knew that something should -come out of him, and waited, thinking every moment it would come, but -nothing appeared. - -Nevertheless, he realised that he was now dead, and he therefore lay -very still; he lay so long that he grew tired. - -The night was dark when Makar felt someone push him with his foot. He -turned his head and opened his eyes. - -The larches were now standing meekly and quietly over him, as if -ashamed of their former pranks. The shaggy spruces stretched out their -long snow-covered arms and rocked themselves gently, gently, and the -starry snowflakes settled softly through the air. - -The kind, bright stars looked down through the branches from the dark -blue sky, and seemed to be saying: “See, a poor man has died!” - -Over Makar’s prostrate form and prodding him with his foot stood the -old priest Ivan. His long cassock was white with snow; snow lay upon -his fur hat, his shoulders, and his beard. Most surprising of all was -the fact that this was the same Father Ivan who had died five years ago. - -He had been a good priest. He had never pressed Makar for his tithes -and had not even asked to be paid for the services of the church; Makar -had always fixed the price of his own christenings and requiems, and -he now remembered with confusion that it had sometimes been extremely -low and that sometimes he had not even paid it at all. Father Ivan had -never resented this, he had only required one thing: a bottle of vodka -on every occasion. If Makar had no money, Father Ivan would send him -for the bottle himself, and they would drink it together. The good -priest always grew as drunk as a lord, but he fought neither fiercely -nor often. Makar would see him home, and hand him over, helpless and -defenseless, to the care of the Mother Priestess, his wife. - -Yes, he had been a good priest, but his end had been bad. - -One day, when there was no one else at home, the fuddled Father, who -was lying alone on the bed, had taken it into his head to smoke. He got -up and staggered toward the great, fiercely heated fireplace to light -his pipe at the blaze. But he was too drunk, he swayed and fell into -the fire. When his family returned, all that remained of the little -Father were his feet. - -Every one regretted good Father Ivan, but no doctor on earth could have -saved him, as only his feet remained. So they buried the feet, and a -new priest was appointed to fill the place of Father Ivan. - -And now Ivan himself, sound and whole, was standing over Makar, -prodding him with his foot. - -“Get up, Makar, old man!” he was saying, “and let us be going.” - -“Where must I go?” asked Makar with displeasure. He supposed that once -dead he ought to lie still, and that there was no need for him now to -be wandering about the forest, losing his way. If he had to do that, -then why had he died? - -“Let us go to the great Toyon.”[C] - -“Why should I go to him?” Makar asked. - -“He is going to judge you,” answered the priest in a sorrowful, -compassionate voice. - -Makar recollected that, in fact, one did have to appear at some -judgment after one died. He had heard that at church. The priest was -right after all; he would have to get up. - -So Makar rose, muttering under his breath that they couldn’t even let a -man alone after he was dead. - -The priest walked before and Makar followed. They went always straight -ahead, and the larches stood meekly aside and allowed them to pass; -they were going eastward. - -Makar noted with surprise that Father Ivan left no tracks in the snow -behind him; he looked under his own feet and saw no tracks either; the -snow lay as fresh and smooth as a table cloth. - -How easy it would be now, he reflected, to rob other men’s traps, as -no one could find him out! But the priest must have read his secret -thought, for he turned and said: “Kabis! (stop that!). You don’t know -what you will get for thoughts like that.” - -“Well, I declare!” exclaimed the disgusted Makar. “Can’t I even think -what I please? What makes you so strict these days? Hold your tongue!” - -The priest shook his head and walked on. - -“Have we far to go?” asked Makar. - -“Yes, a long way,” answered the priest sadly. - -“And what shall we have to eat?” Makar inquired with anxiety. - -“You have forgotten that you are dead,” the priest answered turning -toward him. “You won’t have to eat or drink now.” - -Makar did not like that idea in the least. Of course it would be all -right in case there were nothing to eat, but then one ought to lie -still, as he did at first after his death. But to walk, and to walk -a long way, and to eat nothing, that seemed to him to be absolutely -outrageous. He began muttering again. - -“Don’t grumble!” - -“All right!” he answered in an injured voice and went on complaining -and growling to himself about such a stupid arrangement. - -“They make a man walk and yet he needn’t eat! Who ever heard of such a -thing?” - -He was extremely discontented as he followed the priest. And they -walked a long way. Though Makar could not see the dawn, they seemed, by -the distance they had covered, to have been walking a week. They had -left so many ravines and hills behind them, so many rivers and lakes, -so many forests and plains! Whenever Makar looked back, the dark taiga -seemed to be running away behind them and the high, snowclad mountains -seemed to be melting into the murky night and hiding swiftly behind the -horizon. - -They appeared to be climbing higher and higher. The stars grew larger -and brighter; from the crest of the height to which they had risen -they could see the rim of the setting moon. It seemed to have been in -haste to escape, but Makar and the priest had overtaken it. Then it -rose again over the horizon, and the travellers found themselves on a -level, very high plain. It was light now, much lighter than early in -the night, and this was due, of course, to the fact that they were much -nearer the stars than they had been before. Each one of these, in size -like an apple, glittered with ineffable brightness; the moon, as large -as a huge barrel-head, blazed with the brilliance of the sun, lighting -up the vast expanse from one edge to the other. - -Every snowflake on the plain was sharply discernible, and countless -paths stretched across it, all converging toward the same point in the -east. Men of various aspects and in many different garbs were walking -and riding along these roads. - -Makar looked sharply at one horseman, and then suddenly turned off the -road and pursued him. - -“Stop! Stop!” cried the priest, but Makar did not even hear him. He -had recognised a Tartar, an old acquaintance of his, who had stolen a -piebald horse from him once, and who had died five years ago. There -was that same Tartar now, riding along on the very same horse! The -animal was skimming over the ground, clouds of snowy dust were rising -from under its hoofs, glittering with the rainbow colours of twinkling -stars. Makar was surprised that he should be able, on foot, to overtake -the Tartar so easily in his mad gallop. Besides, when he perceived -Makar a few steps behind him, he stopped with great readiness. Makar -fell upon him with passion. - -“Come to the sheriff with me!” he cried. “That is my horse; he has a -split in his right ear. Look at the man, how smart he is, riding along -on a stolen horse while the owner follows on foot like a beggar!” - -“Gently,” said the Tartar. “No need to go for the sheriff! You say this -is your horse, take him and be damned to the brute! This is the fifth -year I have been riding him up and down on one and the same spot! Every -foot-passenger overtakes me. It is humiliating for a good Tartar, it is -indeed!” - -He threw his leg over the saddle in act to alight, but at that moment -the panting priest came running up and seized Makar by the arm. - -“Unfortunate man!” he cried. “What are you about? Can’t you see that -the Tartar is fooling you?” - -“Of course he is fooling me!” shouted Makar waving his arms. “That was -a lovely horse, a real gentleman’s horse; I was offered forty roubles -for him before his third spring. Never you mind, brother! If you have -spoilt that horse for me I shall cut him up for meat, and you shall pay -me his full value in money! Do you think, because you are a Tartar, -there are no laws for you?” - -Makar was flying into a passion and shouting in order to draw a crowd -about him, for he was afraid of Tartars from habit, but the priest -broke in on his outburst. - -“Gently, gently, Makar, you keep forgetting that you are dead! What do -you want with a horse? Can’t you see that you travel much faster on -foot than the Tartar does on horseback? Would you like to be forced to -ride for a whole thousand years?” - -Makar now understood why the Tartar had been so willing to give up his -horse. - -“They’re a crooked lot!” he thought, and he turned to the Tartar. - -“Very well then,” he said. “Take the horse, brother; I forgive you!” - -The Tartar angrily pulled his fur cap over his ears and lashed his -horse. The pony galloped madly, and clouds of snow flew from under its -hoofs, but long as Makar and the priest stood still, the Tartar did -not budge an inch from their side. - -He spat angrily and turned to Makar. - -“Listen, friend, haven’t you a bit of mahorka with you? I do want to -smoke so badly, and I finished all mine five years ago.” - -“You’re a friend of dogs but no friend of mine,” retorted Makar in a -rage. “You have stolen my horse and now you ask for mahorka! Confound -you altogether, I’m not sorry for you one bit!” - -With these words Makar moved on. - -“You made a mistake not to give him a little mahorka,” said Father -Ivan. “The Toyon would have forgiven you at least one hundred sins for -that at the Judgment.” - -“Then why didn’t you tell me that before?” snapped Makar. - -“Ah, it is too late to teach you anything now. You should have learnt -it from your priest while you were alive.” - -Makar was furious. He saw no sense in priests who took their tithes and -did not even teach a man when to give a leaf of mahorka to a Tartar in -order to gain forgiveness for his sins. One hundred sins were no joke! -And all for a leaf of tobacco! The mistake had cost him dear. - -“Wait a moment!” he exclaimed. “One leaf will do very well for us two. -Let me give the other four to the Tartar this minute, that will mean -four hundred sins!” - -“Look behind you,” answered the priest. - -Makar looked round. The white, empty plain lay stretched out far behind -them; the Tartar appeared for a second upon it, a tiny, distant dot. -Makar thought he could distinguish the white cloud rising from under -the hoofs of his piebald, but next moment the dot, too, had vanished. - -“Well, well, the Tartar will manage all right without his mahorka. You -see how he has ruined my horse, the scoundrel!” - -“No, he has not ruined your horse,” answered the priest. “That horse -was stolen. Have you not heard the old men say that a stolen horse will -never go far?” - -Makar had certainly heard this from the old men, but as he had often -seen Tartars ride all the way to the city on horses that they had -stolen, he had never put much belief in the saying. He now concluded -that old men were sometimes right. - -They now began to pass many other horsemen on the plain. All were -hurrying along as fast as the first; the horses were flying like -birds, the riders dripping with sweat, yet Makar and the priest kept -overtaking them and leaving them behind. - -Most of these horsemen were Tartars, but a few were natives of Chalgan; -some of the latter were astride stolen oxen and were goading them on -with lumps of ice. - -Makar looked with hatred at the Tartars, and muttered every time he -passed one that the fellow had deserved much worse than this, but when -he met a peasant from Chalgan he would stop and chat amicably with him, -as they were friends, after all, even if they were thieves! Sometimes -he would even show his fellow-feeling by picking up a lump of ice and -diligently beating the ox or horse from behind, but let him take so -much as one step forward himself, and horse and rider would be left far -in the rear, a scarcely visible dot. - -The plain seemed to be boundless. Though Makar and his companion -occasionally overtook these riders and pedestrians, the country around -was deserted, and the travellers seemed to be separated by hundreds of -thousands of miles. - -Among others, Makar fell in with an old man unknown to him, who -plainly hailed from Chalgan; this could be discerned from his face, -his clothes, and even from his walk, but Makar could not remember -ever having seen him before. The old man wore a ragged fur coat, a -great shaggy hat, tattered and worn leather breeches, and still older -calf-skin boots. Worst of all, he was carrying on his shoulders, in -spite of his old age, a crone still more ancient than himself, whose -feet trailed on the ground. The old man was wheezing and staggering -along, leaning heavily on his stick. Makar felt sorry for him. He -stopped and the old man stopped too. - -“Kansi! (Speak!)” said Makar pleasantly. - -“No,” answered the greybeard. - -“What have you seen?” - -“Nothing.” - -“What have you heard?” - -“Nothing.” - -Makar was silent for a while, and then thought he might ask the old man -who he was and whence he had crawled. - -The old man told his name. Long since, he said--he did not know himself -how many years ago--he had left Chalgan and gone up to the “mountain” -to save himself. There he had done no work, had lived on roots and -berries, and had neither ploughed nor sowed nor ground wheat nor paid -taxes. When he died he went to the Judgment of the Toyon. The Toyon -asked him who he was, and what he had done. He answered he had gone -up on the “mountain” and had saved himself. “Very well,” the Toyon -answered, “but where is your wife? Go and fetch her here.” So he went -back for his old woman. But she had been forced to beg before she died, -as there had been no one to support her, and she had had neither house, -nor cow, nor bread. Her strength had failed, and now finally she was -not able to move her legs. So he was obliged to carry her to the Toyon -on his back. - -As he said this, the old man burst into tears, but the old woman kicked -him with her heels as if he had been an ox, and cried in a weak, cross -voice: - -“Go on!” - -Makar felt more sorry than ever for the old man, and heartily thanked -his stars that he had not succeeded in going to the “mountain” himself. -His wife was large and lusty, and his burden would have been even -heavier than that of the old man; if, in addition to this, she had -begun to kick him as if he were an ox, he would certainly have died a -second death. - -He tried to hold the old woman’s feet out of pity for his friend, but -he had scarcely taken three steps before he was forced to drop them -hastily, or they would certainly have remained in his hands; another -minute, and the old man and his burden were left far out of sight. - -For the remainder of his journey Makar met no more travellers whom he -honoured with marked attention. Here were thieves crawling along step -by step, laden like beasts of burden with stolen goods; here rode fat -Yakut chieftains towering in their high saddles, their peaked hats -brushing the clouds; here, skipping beside them, ran poor workmen, as -lean and light as hares; here strode a gloomy murderer, blood-drenched, -with haggard, furtive eyes. He kept casting himself in vain into the -pure snow, hoping to wash out the crimson stains; the snow around him -was instantly dyed red, but the blood upon the murderer started out -more vividly than ever, and in his eyes there gleamed wild horror and -despair. So he ran on, shunning the frightened gaze of all men. - -From time to time the little souls of children came flying through -the air like birds, winging their way in great flocks, and this was -no surprise to Makar. Bad, coarse food, dirt, the heat from the -fireplaces, and the cold draughts in the huts drove them from Chalgan -alone in hundreds. As they overtook the murderer, the startled flocks -wheeled swiftly aside, and long after their passage the air was filled -with the quick, anxious whirring of their little pinions. - -Makar could not help remarking that, in comparison with the other -travellers, he was moving at a fairly swift pace, and he hastened to -ascribe this to his own virtue. - -“Listen Asabit! (Father!)” he said. “What do you think, even if I was -fond of drinking I was a good man, wasn’t I? God loves me, doesn’t he?” - -He looked inquiringly at Father Ivan. He had a secret motive for asking -this question, he wanted to find out something from the old priest, but -the latter answered curtly: - -“Don’t be conceited! We are near the end now. You will soon find that -out for yourself.” - -Makar had not noticed until then that a light seemed to be breaking -over the plain. First a few lambent rays flashed up over the horizon, -spreading swiftly across the sky and extinguishing the bright stars. -They went out, the moon set, and the plain lay in darkness. - -Then mists arose on the plain and stood round about it like a guard of -honour. - -And at a certain point in the east the mists grew bright like a legion -of warriors in golden armour. - -And then the mists stirred, and the warriors prostrated themselves upon -the ground. - -And the sun rose from their midst, and rested upon their golden ranks, -and looked across the plain. - -And the whole plain shone with a wonderful, dazzling radiance. - -And the mists rose triumphantly in a mighty host, parted in the south, -swayed, and swept upwards. - -And Makar seemed to hear a most enchanting melody, the immemorial pæan -with which the earth daily greets the rising sun. He had never before -given it due attention, and only now felt for the first time the beauty -of the song. - -He stood and hearkened and would not go any farther; he wanted to stand -there forever and listen. - - * * * * * - -But Father Ivan touched him on the arm. - -“We have arrived,” he said. “Let us go in.” - -Thereupon Makar noticed that they were standing before a large door -which had previously been hidden by the mist. - -He was very loath to proceed, but could not fail to comply. - - * * * * * - -They entered a large and spacious hut, and not until then did Makar -reflect that it had been very cold outside. In the middle of the hut -was a chimney of pure silver marvellously engraved, and in it blazed -logs of gold, radiating such an even heat that one’s whole body was -penetrated by it in an instant. The flames in this beautiful fireplace -neither scorched nor dazzled the eyes, they only warmed, and once more -Makar wanted to stand there and toast himself forever. Father Ivan, -too, came and stood before the fire, stretching out his frozen hands to -the blaze. - -Four doors opened out of the room, and of these only one led into the -open air; through the other three young men in long white gowns were -coming and going. Makar imagined that they must be the servants of this -Toyon. He seemed to remember having seen them somewhere before, but -could not recollect exactly where. He was not a little surprised to -note that each servant wore a pair of large white wings upon his back, -and decided that the Toyon must have other workmen beside these, for -surely they, encumbered with their wings, could never make their way -through the forest thickets when they went to cut wood or poles. - -One of the servants approached the fire, and, turning his back to the -blaze, addressed Father Ivan. - -“Speak!” - -“There is nought to say.” - -“What did you hear in the world?” - -“Nothing.” - -“What did you see?” - -“Nothing.” - -Both were silent, and then the priest said: - -“I have brought this one.” - -“Is he from Chalgan?” asked the servant. - -“Yes, from Chalgan.” - -“Then we must get ready the big scales.” - -He left the room to make his preparations, and Makar asked the priest -why scales were needed, and why they must be large. - -“You see,” answered the priest a trifle embarrassed, “the scales are -needed to weigh the good and evil you did when you were alive. With -all other people the good and evil almost balance one another, but the -inhabitants of Chalgan bring so many sins with them that the Toyon had -to have special scales made with one of the bowls extra large in order -to contain them all.” - -At these words Makar quailed, and felt his heart-strings tighten. - -The servant brought in and set up the big scales. One bowl was small -and of gold, the other was wooden and of huge proportions. A deep black -pit suddenly opened under the wooden bowl. - -Makar approached the scales, and carefully inspected them to make -sure they were not false. They proved to be correct; the bowls hung -motionless, without movement up or down. - -To tell the truth, he did not exactly understand their mechanism, and -would have preferred to have done business with the simple balances by -whose aid he had learned to buy and sell with great profit to himself -during the course of his long life. - -“The Toyon is coming!” cried Father Ivan suddenly, and hastily began to -pull his cassock straight. - -The central door opened and in came an ancient, venerable Toyon, his -long silvery beard hanging below his waist. He was dressed in rich furs -and tissues unknown to Makar, and on his feet he wore warm velvet-lined -boots, such as Makar had seen depicted on antique ikons. - -Makar recognised him at a glance as the same old greybeard whose -picture he had seen in church, only here he was unattended by his son. -Makar decided that the latter must have gone out on business. The dove -flew into the room, however, and after circling about the old man’s -head, settled upon his knee. The old Toyon stroked the dove with his -hand as he sat on the seat that had been especially prepared for him. - -The Toyon’s face was kind, and when Makar became too downcast he looked -at it and felt better. - -His heart was heavy because he was suddenly remembering all his past -life down to the smallest detail; he remembered every step he had -taken, every blow of his axe, every tree he had felled, every deceit he -had practiced, every glass of vodka he had drunk. - -He grew frightened and ashamed, but he took heart as he looked at the -face of the old Toyon. - -And as he took heart it occurred to him that there might be some things -he could manage to conceal. - -The old Toyon looked searchingly at him and asked him who he was and -whence he had come, what his name was and what his age might be. - -When Makar had replied to his questions, the old Toyon asked: - -“What have you done in your life?” - -“You know that yourself,” answered Makar. “Surely it is written in your -book!” - -Makar wanted to test the Toyon and find out whether everything was -really inscribed there or no. - -“Tell me yourself,” answered the old Toyon. - -Makar took courage. - -He began enumerating all his works, and although he remembered every -blow he had struck with his axe, every pole he had cut, and every -furrow he had ploughed, he added to his reckoning thousands of poles -and hundreds of loads of wood and hundreds of logs and hundreds of -pounds of sown seed. - -When all had been told, the old Toyon turned to Father Ivan and said: - -“Bring hither the book.” - -Makar saw from this that Father Ivan was secretary to the Toyon, and -was annoyed that the other had given him no friendly hint of the fact. - -Father Ivan brought the great book, opened it, and began to read. - -“Just look and see how many poles are inscribed there,” said the old -Toyon. - -Father Ivan looked and answered sorrowfully: - -“He added a round three thousand to his reckoning.” - -“It’s a lie!” shouted Makar vehemently. “He must be wrong because he -was a drunkard and died a wicked death!” - -“Be quiet!” commanded the Toyon. “Did he charge you more than was fair -for christenings and weddings? Did he ever press you for tithes?” - -“Why waste words?” answered Makar. - -“You see,” the Toyon said, “I know without assistance from you that he -was fond of drink----” - -And the old Toyon lost his temper. “Read his sins from the book now; he -is a cheat, and I can’t believe his words!” he cried to Father Ivan. - -Meanwhile the servants were heaping into the golden bowl all Makar’s -poles, and his wood, and his ploughing, and all his work. And there -proved to be so much that the golden bowl sank, and the wooden bowl -rose out of reach, high, high into the air. So the young servants of -God flew up to it on their pinions and hundreds of them pulled it to -the floor with ropes. - -Heavy is the labour of a native of Chalgan! - -Then Father Ivan began adding up the number of frauds that Makar had -committed, and there proved to be twenty-one thousand, three hundred -and three. Then he added up the number of bottles of vodka he had -drunk, and there proved to be four hundred. And the priest read on and -Makar saw that the wooden bowl was pulling on the gold one; it sank -into the hole, and, as the priest read, it descended ever deeper and -deeper. - -Makar realised then that things were going badly for him; he stepped up -to the scales and furtively tried to block them with his foot. - -But one of the servants saw it, and a clamour arose amongst them. - -“What is the matter there?” asked the old Toyon. - -“Why, he was trying to block the scales with his foot!” cried the -servant. - -At that the Toyon turned wrathfully to Makar, exclaiming: - -“I see that you are a cheat, a sluggard, and a drunkard. You have left -your arrears unpaid behind you, you owe tithes to the priest, and the -policeman is steadily sinning on your account by swearing every time he -speaks your name.” - -Then, turning to Father Ivan, the old Toyon asked: - -“Who in Chalgan gives the heaviest loads to his horses to pull, and who -works them the hardest?” - -Father Ivan answered: - -“The church warden. He carries the mail and drives the district -policeman.” - -To that the Toyon answered: - -“Hand over this sluggard to the church warden for a horse and let him -pull the policeman until he drops--we shall see what will happen next.” - -Just as the Toyon was saying these words, the door opened; his son -entered the hut and sat down at his right hand. - -And the son said: - -“I have heard the sentence pronounced by you. I have lived long on the -earth, and I know the ways of the world. It will be hard for the poor -man to take the place of the district policeman’s horse. However, so be -it, only mayhap he still has something to say: speak baraksan! (poor -fellow!)” - -Then there happened a strange thing. Makar, the Makar who had never -before in his life uttered more than ten words at a time, suddenly felt -himself possessed of the gift of eloquence. He began speaking, and -wondered at himself. There seemed to be two Makars, the one talking, -the other listening and marvelling. He could scarcely believe his ears. -His discourse flowed from his lips with fluency and passion; the words -pursued one another swiftly, and ranged themselves in long and graceful -rows. He did not hesitate. If by any chance he became confused, he -corrected himself and shouted twice louder than before. But above all -he felt that his words were carrying conviction. - -The ancient Toyon, who had at first been a little annoyed by his -boldness, began listening with rapt attention, as if he were being -persuaded that Makar was not the fool that he seemed to be. Father -Ivan had been frightened for an instant and had plucked Makar by the -coat-tails, but Makar had pushed him aside and continued his speech. -The fears of the old priest were quickly allayed; he even beamed at -Makar as he heard his old parishioner boldly declaring the truth, and -saw that that truth was pleasing to the heart of the ancient Toyon. -Even the young servants of the Toyon with their long gowns and their -white wings came out of their quarters and stood in the doorways -listening with wonder to Makar’s words, nudging one another with their -elbows. - -Makar commenced his plea by saying that he did not want to take the -place of the church warden’s horse. Not because he was afraid of hard -work, but because the sentence was unjust. And because the sentence was -unjust, he would not submit to it; he would not do a stroke of work nor -move one single foot. Let them do what they would with him! Let them -hand him over to the devils forever, he would not haul the policeman, -because to condemn him to do so was an injustice. And let them not -imagine that he was afraid of being a horse. Although the church warden -drove his horse hard, he fed him with oats, but he, Makar, had been -goaded all his life, and no one had ever fed him. - -“Who has goaded you?” asked the Toyon. - -Yes, all his life long he had been goaded. The bailiff had goaded him; -the tax assessor and the policeman had goaded him, demanding taxes -and tallage; hunger and want had goaded him; cold and heat, rain and -drought had goaded him; the frozen earth and the ruthless forest had -goaded him. The horse had trudged on with its eyes on the ground, -ignorant of its journey’s end; so had he trudged through life. Had he -known the meaning of what the priest read in church or for what his -tithes were demanded? Had he known why his eldest son had been taken -away as a soldier and whither he had gone? Had he known where he had -died and where his poor bones had been laid? - -He had drunk, it was charged, too much vodka; so he had, for his heart -had craved it. - -“How many bottles did you say that he drank?” the Toyon asked. - -“Four hundred,” answered Father Ivan, with a glance at the book. - -That might be so, pleaded Makar, but was it really all vodka? Three -quarters of it was water; only one quarter was vodka, and that was -stiffened with vile mahorka. Three hundred bottles might well be -deducted from his account. - -“Is what he says true?” asked the ancient Toyon of Father Ivan, and it -was plain that his anger was not yet appeased. - -“Absolutely true,” the priest answered quickly, and Makar continued his -tale. - -It was true that he had added three thousand poles to his account, but -what if he had? What if he had only cut sixteen thousand? Was that so -small a number? Besides, while he had cut two thousand his first wife -had been ill. His heart had been aching, he had longed to sit by her -bedside, but want had driven him into the forest, and in the forest he -had wept, and the tears had frozen on his eye-lashes, and because of -his grief, the cold had struck into his very heart, and still he had -chopped. - -And then his old woman had died. He had to bury her, but he had no -money to pay for the burial. So he had hired himself out to chop wood -to pay for his wife’s abode in the world beyond. The merchant had seen -how great was his need, and had only paid him ten kopecks--and his old -woman had lain all alone in the icy hut while he had once more chopped -wood and wept. Surely each one of those loads should be counted as four -or even more! - -Tears rose in the eyes of the old Toyon, and Makar saw the scales -trembling and the wooden bowl rising as the golden one sank. - -And still he talked on. - -Everything was written down in their book, he said, let them look and -see if any one had ever done him a kindness or brought him happiness -and joy! Where were his children? If they had died his heart had been -heavy and sad; if they had lived to grow up they had left him, to carry -on their fight alone with their own grinding needs. So he had remained -to grow old with his second wife, and had felt his strength failing and -had seen that a pitiless, homeless old age was creeping upon him. They -two had stood solitary as two lorn fir-trees on the steppe, buffeted on -every hand by the merciless winds. - -“Is that true?” asked the Toyon again, and the priest hastened to -answer: - -“Absolutely true.” - -And the scales trembled once more--but the old Toyon pondered. - -“How is this?” he asked. “Have I not many on earth who are truly -righteous? Their eyes are clear, their faces are bright, and their -garments are without a stain. Their hearts are mellow as well tilled -soil in which flourishes good seed, sending up strong and fragrant -shoots whose odour is pleasant to my nostrils. But you--look at -yourself!” - -All eyes were now turned on Makar, and he felt ashamed. He knew that -his eyes were dim, that his face was dull, that his hair and beard -were unkempt, that his raiment was torn. And though for some time -before his death he had intended to buy a pair of new boots in which -to appear at the Judgment, he somehow had always managed to drink up -the money, and now stood before the Toyon in wretched fur shoes like a -Yakut. - -“Your face is dull,” the Toyon went on. “Your eyes are bleared and your -clothes are torn. Your heart is choked with weeds and thistles and -bitter wormwood. That is why I love my righteous and turn my face from -the ungodly such as you.” - -Makar’s heart contracted and he blushed for his own existence. He hung -his head for a moment and then suddenly raised it and took up his tale -once more. - -Which righteous men did the Toyon mean? he asked. If he meant those -that lived on earth in rich houses at the same time that Makar was -there, then he knew all about them! Their eyes were clear because they -had not shed the tears he had shed; their faces were bright because -they were bathed in perfume, and their spotless garments were sewn by -other hands than their own. - -Again Makar hung his head, and again raised it. - -And did not the Toyon know that he too had come into the world as they -had with clear, candid eyes in which heaven and earth lay reflected? -That he had been born with a pure heart, ready to expand to all the -beauty of the world? Whose fault was it if he now longed to hide his -besmirched and dishonoured head under the ground? He could not say. But -this he did know, that the patience of his soul was exhausted! - - * * * * * - -Of course Makar would have been calmer could he have seen the effect -that his speech was having on the Toyon, or how each of his wrathful -words fell into the golden bowl like a plummet of lead. But he saw -nothing of this because his heart was overwhelmed with blind despair. - -He had gone over again the whole of his bitter existence. How had -he managed to bear the terrible burden until now? He had borne it -because the star of hope had still beckoned him onward, shining like a -watch-fire through mists of toil and doubt. He was alive, therefore he -might, he would, know a happier fate. But now he stood at the end, and -the star had gone out. - -Darkness fell on his soul, and rage broke over it as a tempest breaks -over the steppe in the night. He forgot who he was and before whose -face he stood; he forgot all but his wrath. - -But the old Toyon said to him: - -“Wait a moment, baraksan! You are not on earth. There is justice here -for you, also.” - -At that Makar trembled. The idea that some one pitied him dawned upon -his mind and filled and softened his heart, but because his whole -miserable existence now lay exposed before him from his first day to -his last, unbearable self-pity overwhelmed him and he burst into tears. - -And the ancient Toyon wept with him. And old Father Ivan wept, and the -young servants of God shed tears and wiped them away with their wide -sleeves. - -And the scales wavered, and the wooden bowl rose ever higher and -higher! - - - - -THE MURMURING FOREST - - - - -THE MURMURING FOREST - -A LEGEND OF THE POLYESIE[D] - - -I - -The forest was murmuring. - -There was always a murmuring in this forest, long-drawn, monotonous, -like the undertones of a distant bell, like a faint song without words, -like vague memories of the past. There was always a murmuring in the -forest because it was a dense wood of ancient pines, untouched as -yet by the axe and saw of the timber merchant. The tall, century-old -trees with their mighty red-brown trunks stood in frowning ranks, -proudly thrusting their green, interwoven tops aloft. The air under -them was still and sweet with resin; bright ferns pierced the carpet -of needles with which the ground was clothed, and superbly displayed -their motionless, fringed foliage. Tall, green grass-blades had shot -upward in the moist places, and there, too, white clover-heads drooped -heavily, as if overcome with gentle languor. And always overhead, -without a pause and without an end, droned the voice of the forest, the -low sighing of the ancient pines. - -But now these sighs had grown deeper and louder. I was riding along a -woodland path, and although the sky was invisible, I knew, under the -darkly frowning trees, that a storm was gathering overhead. The hour -was late. A few last rays of sunlight were still filtering in here and -there between the tree-trunks, but misty shadows had already begun to -gather in the thickets. A thunder-storm was brewing for the night. I -was forced to abandon all idea of continuing the chase that day, and -could only think of reaching a night’s lodging before the storm broke. -My horse struck his hoof against a bare root, snorted, and pricked his -ears, harkening to the muffled impacts of the forest echo. Then of his -own accord he turned his steps into the well-known path that led to the -hut of the forest guard. - -A dog barked. White plastered walls gleamed among the thinning -tree-trunks, a blue wisp of smoke appeared, curling upward under the -overshadowing branches, and a lop-sided cottage with a dilapidated -roof stood before me, sheltering under a wall of ruddy tree-trunks. -It seemed to have sunk down upon the ground, while the proud graceful -pines nodded their heads, high, high above it. In the centre of the -clearing stood two oak trees, huddling close to one another. - -Here lived the foresters Zakhar and Maksim, the invariable companions -of my hunting expeditions. But now they were evidently away from home, -for no one came out of the house at the barking of the great collie. -Only their old grandfather with his bald head and his grey whiskers was -sitting on a bench outside the door, braiding shoes of bast. The old -man’s beard swept almost to his belt; his eyes were vague as if he were -trying in vain to remember something. - -“Good evening, daddy! Is any one at home?” - -“Eh, hey,” mumbled the old man, shaking his head; “neither Zakhar nor -Maksim is here and Motria has gone into the wood for the cow. The cow -has run away; perhaps the bears have eaten her. And so there is no one -in the cottage.” - -“Well, well, never mind. I’ll sit here with you and wait.” - -“Yes, sit down and wait!” the old man nodded, and watched me with dim, -watery eyes as I tied my horse to the branch of one of the oaks. The -old man was failing fast. He was nearly blind and his hands trembled. - -“And who are you, lad?” he asked, as I sat down on the bench. - -I was accustomed to hearing this question at every visit. - -“Eh, hey; now I know, now I know,” said the old man, resuming his work -on the shoe. “My old head is like a sieve; nothing stays in it now. I -remember people who died a long time ago, oh, I remember them well! -But I forget new people. I have lived in this world a long time.” - -“Have you lived in this forest long, daddy?” - -“Eh, hey; a long time! When the Frenchmen came into the Tsar’s country -I was here.” - -“You have seen much in your day. You must have many stories to tell.” - -The old man looked at me with surprise. - -“And what would I have seen, lad? I have seen the forest. The forest -murmurs night and day, winter and summer. One hundred years have I -lived in this forest like that tree there without heeding the passage -of time. And now I must go to my grave, and sometimes I can’t tell, -myself, whether I have lived in this world or not. Eh, hey; yes, yes. -Perhaps, after all, I have not lived at all.” - -A corner of the dark cloud moved out over the clearing from behind the -close-growing tree-tops, and the pines that stood about the clearing -rocked in the first gusts of wind. The murmur of the forest swelled -into a great resonant chord. The old man raised his head and listened. - -“A storm is coming,” he said after a pause. “I know. Oi, oi! A storm -will howl to-night, and will break the pines and tear them up by the -roots. The Master of the forest will come out.” - -“How do you know that, daddy?” - -“Eh, hey; I know it! I know what the trees are saying. Trees know what -fear is as well as we do. There’s the aspen, a worthless tree that’s -always getting broken to pieces. It trembles even when there is no -wind. The pines in the forest sing and play, but if the wind rises -ever so little they raise their voices and groan. This is nothing -yet. There, listen to that! Although my eyes see badly, my ears can -hear: that was an oak tree rustling. The oaks have been touched in the -clearing. The storm is coming.” - -And, as a matter of fact, the pair of low, gnarled oak trees that -stood in the centre of the clearing, protected by the high wall of -the forest, now waved their strong branches and gave forth a muffled -rustling easily distinguishable from the clear, resonant notes of the -pines. - -“Eh, hey; do you hear that, lad?” asked the old man with a childishly -cunning smile. “When the oak trees mutter like that, it means that the -Master is coming out at night to break them. But no, he won’t break -them! The oak is a strong tree, too strong even for the Master. Yes -indeed!” - -“What Master, daddy? You say yourself it is the storm that breaks them.” - -The old man nodded his head with a crafty look. - -“Eh, hey; I know that! They tell me there are some people in the world -these days who don’t believe in anything. Yes indeed! But I have seen -him as plainly as I see you now, and better, because my eyes are old -now, and they were young then. Oi, oi! How well I could see when I was -young!” - -“When did you see him, daddy? Tell me, do!” - -“It was an evening just like this. The pines began to groan in the -forest. First they sang and then they groaned: oh-ah-o-oh-a-h! And then -they stopped, and then they began again louder and more pitifully than -ever. Eh, hey; they groaned because they knew that the Master would -throw down many of them that night! And then the oak trees began to -talk. And toward evening things grew worse until _he_ came whirling -along with the night. He ran through the forest laughing and crying, -dancing and spinning, and always swooping down on those oak trees and -trying to tear them up by the roots. And once in the Autumn I looked -out of the window, and _he_ didn’t like that. He came rushing up to the -window and, bang-bang, he broke it with a pine knot. He nearly hit my -face, bad luck to him! But I’m no fool. I jumped back. Eh, hey; lad, -that’s the sort of a quarrelsome fellow he is!” - -“But what does he look like?” - -“He looks exactly like an old willow tree in a marsh. Just exactly! -His hair is like dry mistletoe on a tree, and his beard too; but his -nose is like a big fat pine knot and his mouth is as twisted as if -it were all overgrown with lichen. Bah, how ugly he is! God pity any -Christian that looks like him! Yes indeed! I saw him once quite close, -in a swamp. If you’ll come here in the winter you can see _him_ for -yourself. You must go in that direction, up that hill--it is covered -with woods--and climb to the very top of the highest tree. He can -sometimes be seen from there racing along over the tree-tops, carrying -a white staff in his hand, and whirling, whirling until he whirls down -the hill into the valley. Then he runs away and disappears into the -forest. Eh, hey! And wherever he steps he leaves a foot-print of white -snow. If you don’t believe an old man come and see for yourself.” - -The old man babbled on; the excited, anxious voices of the forest and -the impending storm seemed to have set his old blood racing. The aged -gaffer laughed and blinked his faded eyes. - -But suddenly a shadow flitted across his high, wrinkled forehead. He -nudged me with his elbow and said with a mysterious look: - -“Let me tell you something, lad. Of course the Master of the forest is -a worthless, good-for-nothing creature, that is true. It disgusts a -Christian to see an ugly face like his, but let me tell you the truth -about him: he never does any one any harm. He plays jokes on people, of -course, but as for hurting them, he never would do that!” - -“But you said yourself, daddy, that he tried to hit you with a pine -knot.” - -“Eh, hey; he tried to! But he was angry then because I was looking at -him through the window; yes indeed! But if you don’t go poking your -nose into his affairs he’ll never play you a dirty trick. That’s what -he’s like. Worse things have been done by men than by him in this -forest. Eh, hey; they have indeed!” - -The old man’s head dropped forward on to his breast and he sat silent -for several minutes. Then he looked at me, and a ray of awakening -memory seemed to gleam through the film that fogged his eyes. - -“I’ll tell you an old story of our forest, lad. It happened here in -this very place, a long, long time ago. Almost always I remember it as -in a dream. But when the forest begins to talk more loudly, I remember -it well. Shall I tell it to you?” - -“Yes, do, daddy! Tell me!” - -“Very well, I’ll tell you; eh, hey! Listen!” - - -II - -My father and mother died, you know, a long time ago when I was only a -little lad. They left me in the world alone. That’s what happened to -me, eh, hey! Well, the village warden looked at me and thought: “What -shall we do with this boy?” And the lord of the manor thought the -same thing. And at that time Raman, the forest guard, came out of the -forest, and he said to the warden: “Let me have that boy to take back -to my cottage with me. I’ll take good care of him. It will be company -for me in the forest and he will be fed.” That’s what he said, and the -warden answered: “Take him!” So he took me. And I have lived in the -forest ever since. - -Raman brought me up here. God forbid that any one should look as -terrible as he did! His eyes were black, his hair was black, and a dark -soul looked out of his eyes because the man had lived alone in the -forest all his life. The bears, people said, were his brothers and the -wolves were his nephews. He knew all the wild animals and was afraid -of none, but he kept away from people and wouldn’t even look at them. -That’s what he was like. It’s the honest truth. When he looked at me -I felt as if a cat were tickling my back with its tail. But he was a -good man all the same, and I must say he fed me well. We always had -buckwheat porridge with grease, and a duck if he happened to kill one. -Yes, he fed me well; it’s the truth and I must say it. - -So we two lived together. Raman used to go out into the forest every -day and lock me up in the cottage so that the wild animals shouldn’t -eat me. Then they gave him a wife called Aksana. - -The Count, who was the lord of the manor, gave him his wife. He called -Raman to the village and said to him: - -“Come, Raman, you must marry.” - -“How can I marry? What should I do with a wife in the forest when I -already have a boy there? I don’t want to marry!” he said. - -He wasn’t used to girls, that’s what the matter was. But the Count was -sly. When I remember him, lad, I think to myself: there are no men like -him now, they are all gone. Take yourself, for instance. They say you -are a Count’s son too. That may be true, but you haven’t got the--well -the real thing, in you. You’re a miserable little snip of a boy, that’s -all you are. - -But he was a real one, just as they used to be. You may think it a -funny thing that a hundred men should tremble before one, but look at -the falcon, boy, and the chicken! Both are hatched out of an egg, but -the falcon longs to soar as soon as his wings are strong. Then, when he -screams in the sky, how not only the little chickens but the old cocks -run! The noble is a falcon, the peasant is a hen. - -I remember when I was a little boy seeing thirty peasants hauling heavy -logs out of the forest and the Count riding along alone on his horse, -twirling his whiskers. The horse under him was prancing, but he kept -looking from side to side. Oi, oi! When the peasants met the Count, how -they got out of his way, turning their horses aside into the snow, and -how they took off their caps! They had heavy work afterwards pulling -the logs out of the snow back on to the road while the Count galloped -away. The road had been too narrow for him to pass the peasants of -course! Whenever the Count moved an eyebrow the peasants trembled. When -he laughed, they laughed; when he frowned, they cried. No one ever -opposed the Count; it had never been done. - -But Raman had grown up in the forest and did not know the ways of the -world, so the Count was not very angry when he refused the girl. - -“I want you to marry,” the Count said. “Why I want you to do it is my -business. Take Aksana.” - -“I don’t want to,” answered Raman. “I don’t want her. Let the Devil -marry her, I won’t! There now!” - -The Count ordered a knout to be brought. They stretched Raman out, and -the Count asked him: - -“Will you marry, Raman?” - -“No,” he answered, “I won’t.” - -“Then give it to him on the back,” commanded the Count, “as hard as you -can lay it on.” - -They gave it to him good and hard. Raman was a strong man, but he got -tired of it at last. - -“All right, stop!” he cried. “That’s enough. May all the devils in hell -take her! I won’t suffer this torture for any woman! Give her to me; -I’ll marry her!” - -Now there lived at the Count’s castle a huntsman named Opanas. Opanas -came riding in from the fields just as they were persuading Raman to be -married. He heard Raman’s trouble and fell at the Count’s feet. He fell -down and kissed them. - -“What’s the use of thrashing that man, kind master?” he asked. “Better -let me marry Aksana with a free will.” - -Eh, hey; he wanted to marry her himself. That’s what he wanted, yes -indeed! - -So Raman was pleased and grew happy again. He got up and tied up his -breeches and said: - -“That’s splendid!” says he. “But why couldn’t you have come a little -sooner, man? And the Count too--that’s how it always is! Wouldn’t it -have been better to have found out first who wanted to marry her? -Instead of that they grab the first man that comes along and begin -flogging him! Do you think that is Christian?” he asked. “Bah!” - -Eh, hey; he didn’t have any mercy on the Count, that’s the sort of man -Raman was. When he got angry it was safest to keep out of his way, even -for a Count. But the Count was sly! You see he was after something. He -ordered Raman to be stretched out on the grass. - -“I want to make you happy, fool!” he cried. “And you turn up your nose -at me! You are living alone now like a bear in his den; it is dull for -me when I come to see you. Lay it on to the fool until he says he has -had enough! As for you Opanas, go to the devil! You weren’t asked to -this party,” he said. “So don’t sit down at the table unless you want -to be entertained like Raman.” - -But Raman’s anger had gone beyond joking by that time, eh, hey! They -tickled him well, and, you know, people in those days could take a -man’s hide off beautifully with a knout, but he lay quite still and -never said: that’s enough! He endured it a long time, but at last he -spat and cried: - -“It’s not right to baste a Christian like this for a woman without even -counting the stripes! That’s enough! And may your hands shrivel and -drop off, you accursed servants! The devil himself must have taught you -to use the knout. Do you think I’m a bundle of wheat on a threshing -floor that you beat me like this? If that’s your idea, I’m going to get -married.” - -Then the Count laughed. - -“That’s splendid!” he cried. “Though you won’t be able to sit down at -your wedding, you will dance all the livelier.” - -The Count was a jolly man, indeed he was, eh, hey! Something bad -happened to him afterwards though; God forbid that anything like that -should ever happen to any Christian! I wouldn’t wish it for any one. It -wouldn’t be right to wish it even for a Jew. That’s what I think about -it. - -Well, they got Raman married. He brought his young wife to this -cottage, and at first he did nothing but scold her and blame her for -his thrashing. - -“You’re not worth a thrashing to any man!” he used to say. - -As soon as he came home out of the forest he would chase her out of the -house shouting: - -“Away with you! I don’t want a woman in my house! Don’t let me see you -here again! I don’t like to have a woman sleeping here. I don’t like -the smell.” - -Eh, hey! - -But later he got used to her. Aksana swept out the hut and painted it -to look nice and clean, and put the china neatly away, and at last -everything shone so brightly that one’s heart grew merry at the sight -of it. Raman saw what a good woman she was, and little by little he got -used to her. Yes, he not only got used to her, lad, he began to love -her. Yes indeed, I am telling you the truth. That’s what happened to -Raman. When he found out what the woman was like he said: - -“Thanks to the Count I have learnt what a good thing is. What a fool I -was! How many stripes I took, and now I see that it isn’t so bad after -all! It is even good. That’s the truth!” - -And so some time passed, I don’t know exactly how much. Then one day -Aksana lay down on a bench and began to groan. That evening she was -ill, and when I woke up in the morning I heard a shrill little voice -squeaking. Eh, hey, I thought to myself, I know what has happened, a -baby has been born! And so it had. - -The baby did not stay long in this world. Only from that morning until -night. It stopped squeaking in the evening. Aksana cried, but Raman -said: - -“The child has gone, so now we won’t call in the priest. We can bury it -ourselves under a pine tree.” - -That’s what Raman said. And he not only said it, he did it. He dug a -little grave under a tree and buried the child. There stands the old -stump of the tree to this day. It has been split by lightning. Yes, -that is the same pine tree under which Raman buried the child. And I’ll -tell you something, boy: to this day when the sun goes down and the -stars shine out over the forest a little bird comes flying to that tree -and cries. It pipes so sadly, poor little bird, that one’s heart aches -to hear it. It is the little unchristened soul crying for a cross. A -learned man, they say, who knows things out of books, could give it a -cross and then it would not fly about any more. But we live here in the -forest and don’t know anything. It comes flying up begging for help and -all we can say is: “You poor, poor little soul, we can’t do anything -for you!” So then it cries and flies away, and next day it comes back -again. Ah, boy, I’m sorry for the poor little soul! - -Well, when Aksana got well again she was always going to the grave. She -would sit on the grave and cry; sometimes she would cry so loudly that -her voice could be heard through the whole forest. She was grieving for -her baby, but Raman did not grieve for the baby, he grieved for her. -He used to come back out of the forest and stand by Aksana and say: - -“Be quiet, silly woman! What is there to cry for? One child has died -but there may be another. And a better one, perhaps! Because that one -may not have been mine, I don’t know whether it was or not, but the -next one will be mine!” - -Aksana did not like it when he talked like that. She would stop crying -and begin to howl at him with bad words. Then Raman would get angry. - -“What are you howling for?” he would ask. “I didn’t say anything of the -kind. I only said I didn’t know. And the reason I don’t know is because -you were living in the world among men then, and not in the forest. -So how can I be sure? Now you are living in the forest; now it is all -right. Old granny Feodosia said when I went to the village to fetch -her: ‘Your baby came very quickly, Raman.’ And I said to the old woman: -‘How do I know whether it came quickly or not?’ But come now, stop -bawling or I’ll get angry, and might even beat you.” - -Well, Aksana would shout at him for a while and then she would stop. -She would scold him and hit him on the back, but when Raman began to -get angry himself she would grow quiet. She would be frightened. She -used to embrace him then, and kiss him, and look into his eyes. Then my -Raman would grow quiet again. Because, you know, lad--but you probably -don’t know, though I do, even if I have never married, because I’m an -old man--I know that a young woman is so sweet to kiss that she can -twist any man around her finger at will no matter how angry he is. Oi, -oi, I know what these women are! And Aksana was a tidy young thing; one -doesn’t see her like now-a-days. I’ll tell you, lad, women are not what -they were. - -Well, one day a horn blew in the forest: tara-tara-ta-ta! That’s how -it echoed through the forest, clearly and gaily. I was a little fellow -then and didn’t know what it was. I saw the birds rising from their -nests and flapping their wings and screaming, and I saw the hares -skipping over the ground with their ears laid back, as fast as they -could scamper. I thought perhaps it was some unknown wild animal making -that pretty noise. But it was not a wild animal, it was the Count -trotting through the forest on his horse and blowing his horn. Behind -him came his huntsmen leading their hounds on the leash. The handsomest -of all the huntsmen was Opanas, caracoling behind the Count dressed in -a long blue Cossack coat. Opanas’ cap had a peaked golden crown, his -horse was capering under him, his carbine was glistening on his back, -and his bandura[E] was slung across his shoulder by a strap. The Count -liked Opanas because he played well on the bandura and was an expert at -singing songs. Ah, this lad Opanas was handsome, terribly handsome! -The Count simply didn’t compare with Opanas. The Count was bald and his -nose was red and his eyes, though they were merry, were not like those -of Opanas! When Opanas looked at me--at me, a little whipper-snapper--I -couldn’t help laughing, and I wasn’t a young girl! People said that -Opanas’ father was a Cossack from beyond the Dnieper; every one there -is handsome and nimble and sleek. And think, boy, the difference there -is between flying across the plains like a bird with a horse and a -lance, and chopping wood with an axe! - -Well, I ran out of the hut and looked, and there came the Count and -stopped right in front of the house, and the huntsmen stopped too. -Raman ran out of the hut and held the Count’s stirrup and the Count -climbed down from his horse. Raman bowed to him. - -“Good day!” the Count says to Raman. - -“Eh, hey,” answers Raman. “I’m very well, thanks, and how are you?” - -You see, Raman didn’t know how to answer the Count as he ought to have -done. The attendants all laughed at his words and the Count laughed too. - -“I’m very glad you are well,” says the Count. “And where is your wife?” - -“Where should my wife be? My wife is in the hut.” - -“Then we’ll go into the hut,” says the Count. “And meanwhile light -a fire, lads, and prepare something to eat, for we have come to -congratulate the young couple.” - -So they went into the hut; the Count, and Opanas, and Raman bareheaded -behind them with Bogdan, the oldest of the huntsmen and the Count’s -faithful servant. There are no servants like him in the world now. - -Bogdan was old and ruled the other attendants sternly, but in the -Count’s presence he was like that dog there. There was no one in the -world for Bogdan except the Count. People said that when Bogdan’s -father and mother had died he had asked the old Count for a house and -land, for he wanted to marry. But the old Count would not allow it. He -made him the young Count’s servant and said: “There are your mother and -father and wife!” So Bogdan took the boy and taught him to ride and -shoot. And the young Count grew up and began to rule in his father’s -place, and old Bogdan still followed him like a dog. - -Okh, I’ll tell you the truth. Many people have cursed Bogdan; many -tears have fallen because of him, and all on account of the Count. -At one word from the Count, Bogdan would have torn his own father to -shreds. - -Well, I was a little fellow, and I ran into the house behind the Count. -I was curious to see what would happen. Wherever he went I went too. - -Well, I looked, and there, standing in the middle of the hut, I saw the -Count stroking his whiskers and laughing. And there was Raman standing -first on one foot and then on another, crushing his hat in his hands, -and there, too, was Opanas leaning against the wall, looking, poor -fellow, like a young oak in a storm. He was frowning and sad. - -All three were turned toward Aksana. Only old Bogdan was sitting on a -bench in a corner with his top-knot[F] hanging down, waiting for the -Count to give him an order. Aksana was standing in a corner by the -stove with her eyes on the floor, as crimson as that poppy there in -the barley. Okh, it was plain the witch felt that something wicked was -about to happen because of her. Let me tell you something, lad: if -three men stand looking at one woman nothing good ever comes of it. -Hair is sure to fly, if nothing worse. I know that, because I have seen -it happen myself. - -“How now, Raman, lad?” laughed the Count. “Did I give you a good wife -or not?” - -“Not bad,” answered Raman. “The woman will do.” - -Here Opanas shrugged his shoulders, raised his eyes to Aksana, and -muttered: - -“What a woman she is! If only that goose hadn’t got her!” - -Raman overheard the words and turned to Opanas and said: - -“Why do I seem a goose to you, Lord Opanas? Eh, hey; tell me that!” - -“Because you don’t know how to protect your wife; that’s why you’re a -goose.” - -That’s what Opanas said to him! The Count stamped his foot. Bogdan -shook his head, but Raman thought a minute and then raised his head and -looked at the Count. - -“Why should I protect her?” he asked Opanas, but his eyes were fixed -on the Count. “There’s no one here in the forest except wild beasts, -unless it is our gracious Count when he comes. Whom should I protect -her from? Look out, you misbegotten Cossack you, don’t provoke me, or -before you know it I’ll have you by the forelock!” - -And perhaps the business would have ended in a thrashing if the Count -hadn’t interfered. He stamped his foot, and every one was silent. - -“Gently there, you Devil’s spawn,” he said. “You didn’t come here to -fight. Congratulate the young people first, and then in the evening -we’ll go hunting on the marsh. Here, follow me!” - -The Count turned on his heel and left the hut. The attendants had -already spread a dinner under the trees. Bogdan followed the Count, but -Opanas stayed with Raman in the front entry. - -“Don’t be angry with me, brother,” said the Cossack. “Listen to what -Opanas has to tell you. You saw how I rolled in the dust at the Count’s -feet, and kissed his boots, and begged him to give me Aksana? Well, God -bless you, man! The priest has tied you up; it’s your luck, I see, but -my heart can’t stand that wicked fellow making sport of you and of her -again. Hey ho, no one knows what I have in my heart! It would be well -were I to lay him in the cold ground for a bed with the help of my gun!” - -Raman stared at the Cossack and asked: - -“Have you gone out of your head this hour, Cossack?” - -I did not hear what Opanas began whispering to Raman in the front entry -in answer to this; I only heard Raman clap him on the back. - -“Okh, Opanas, Opanas! How wicked and cunning people are in this world! -I knew nothing of this, living in the forest. Eh, hey, Count, Count, -what evil you have brought on your head!” - -“Come!” Opanas says to him. “Go now, and don’t show anything, -especially before Bogdan. You’re a simple man and that hound of the -Count’s is crafty. Be sure you don’t drink much of the Count’s wine; -and if he sends you out on the marsh with the huntsmen and himself -wants to stay behind, lead the huntsmen to the old oak tree, put -them on a round-about road, and tell them that you are going to walk -straight through the forest. Then come back here as quick as you can.” - -“Good,” says Raman. “It’s hunting I shall go, though my gun won’t be -loaded with bird-shot for little birds, but with a good stout bullet -for a bear.” - -Then they went out. The Count was sitting on a carpet on the ground. -He ordered a flagon of wine and a goblet to be brought to him, filled -a goblet full and passed it to Raman. Eh, hey; the Count’s flagon and -goblet were fair to see and his wine was better still. One little -goblet, and your heart would be full of happiness; another, and it -would leap in your breast; if a man were not used to it he would roll -under his seat after the third unless a woman were there to lay him on -top of it. - -Eh, hey; I tell you, the Count was clever. He wanted to make Raman -drunk on his wine, but there was no wine in the world that could -overpower Raman. He emptied one goblet from the Count’s hands and then -another, and still another, until his eyes glowed like a wolf’s and his -black whiskers began to twitch. The Count at last grew angry. - -“How sturdily that Devil’s spawn can lap up the wine and never blink an -eye! Any other fellow would have been blubbering by now, but look at -him, lads; he is laughing still!” - -The wicked Count well knew that if a man cried from wine his top-knot -would soon be trailing on the table. But this time he had mistaken his -man. - -“And why should I cry?” asked Raman in return. “That would even be -rude. The gracious Count comes to congratulate me on my marriage and -I begin to howl like a woman! Thank God I have nothing to cry for yet; -let my enemies do the crying!” - -“That means you are contented?” asks the Count. - -“Eh, hey! And why should I be discontented?” - -“Do you remember how I betrothed you with the help of a knout?” - -“How should I not remember? I was a foolish man then and didn’t know -bitter from sweet. The knout was bitter, but I loved it better than -a woman. Thanks to you, gracious Count, this fool has learned to eat -honey.” - -“All right, all right,” says the Count. “And now I want you to do me a -good turn. Go out on the marsh with my huntsmen and shoot as many birds -as you can, and especially do I want you to get me a blackcock.” - -“And when does the Count send us out on the marsh?” asks Raman. - -“When you have had one more drink. Opanas will sing us a song, and then -go in God’s name.” - -Raman fixes his eyes on the Count and says: - -“That will not be easy. It is late, the marsh is far, and, besides, the -forest is murmuring in the wind; there will be a storm to-night. How -can one kill a shy bird on an evening like this?” - -But the Count was drunk, and he was always powerfully bad-tempered in -his cups. He heard his attendants whispering among themselves that -“surely Raman was right, there would soon be a storm,” and he was very -angry. He slammed down his goblet and glared about him. Every man held -his tongue. - -Only Opanas was not afraid; he stepped out as the Count had told him to -do to sing his song with his bandura. He tuned it, glanced sideways at -the Count, and said: - -“Come to your senses, gracious Lord! When has it ever been known that -men went hunting birds at night, in a dark forest, in the midst of a -storm?” - -That’s how bold he was! The other serfs of the Count were afraid, of -course, but he was a free man of Cossack birth. An old Cossack player -of the bandura had brought him as a youngster from the Ukraine. There, -lad, the people had made trouble in the town of Uman. They had put out -this old Cossack’s eyes, cut off his ears, and sent him out like that -into the world. So he had walked and walked, from village to town, and -wandered into our country with the little lad Opanas as his guide. The -old Count took him into his house because he loved beautiful songs. So -when the old man died, Opanas grew up in the palace. The young Count -grew to like him, and would often endure speeches from him for which he -would have flayed three skins off the back of another man. - -So it was now. He was angry at first, and the men thought he was going -to hit the Cossack, but he soon spoke to Opanas and said: - -“Oi, Opanas, Opanas! You’re a clever lad, but it’s plain you don’t -understand that no man should put his nose in the crack of a door for -fear some one might slam it.” - -That’s how he guessed the Cossack’s riddle! And the Cossack saw at once -he had guessed it. And he answered the Count in a song. Oi, if the -Count had been able to understand a Cossack song, his Countess might -not have had to shed tears over him that night! “Thank you, Count, for -your wisdom,” said Opanas. “Now in return I am going to sing to you. -Listen well.” - -Then he raised his head and looked up at the sky; he saw an eagle -soaring there and the wind driving the dark clouds along. He listened -and heard the tall pines murmuring. - -And once more he struck the strings of his bandura. - -Eh, lad, you never chanced to hear Opanas play, and now you will never -hear it! The bandura is a simple trick, but oh, how well a man who -knows it can make it talk! When Opanas ran his hand across the strings -it told him everything: how the dark pine forest sings in a storm; how -the wind hums through the sedge on the desert steppe; how the dry grass -whispers on a high Cossack grave. - -No, lad, you won’t hear such playing as that now-a-days! - -All kinds of people come here now that have been not only in our -Polyesie but in other countries as well: all over the Ukraine, in -Chirigin and Poltava and Kiev. They say that players of the bandura are -out of fashion now and that you never hear them at fairs and in the -bazaars. I still have an old bandura hanging on the wall of the hut. -Opanas taught me to play it, but no one has learnt to play it from me. -When I die--and that will be soon--who knows, perhaps nobody in the -wide world will ever hear the notes of a bandura again. No, indeed! - -And Opanas began singing a song in a low voice. Opanas’ voice was not -loud; it was brooding and sad, and went straight to the heart. And the -song, lad, was made up for the Count by the Cossack himself. I have -never heard it again, and when, later, I used to tease Opanas to sing -it, he always refused. - -“The man for whom that song was sung,” he would say, “is no longer in -this world.” - -The Cossack told the Count all the truth in that song, and what the -Count’s fate would be, and the Count wept; the tears even trickled down -his beard, and yet it was plain that not one word did he understand. - -Okh, I can’t remember the song; I can only remember a few words. The -Cossack sang about Count Ivan: - - “Oi, Ivan! Alas, oi, Count! - The Count is clever and much he knows. - He knows that the falcon soars in the sky, and falls upon the crow. - Oi, Ivan! Alas, oi, Count! - But the Count does not know - How it is in this world, - That the crow will at last kill the falcon at its nest.” - -There, lad! I seem to hear that song at this moment, and to see those -men again. There stands the Cossack with his bandura; the Count is -sitting on his carpet; his head is bowed, and he is weeping. The -Count’s men are gathered about him and are nudging one another with -their elbows, and old Bogdan is shaking his head. And the forest is -murmuring, just as it is murmuring now, and the bandura is chiming -softly, dreamily, while the Cossack sings of how the Countess wept over -the grave of Count Ivan: - - “She cries, the Countess cries, - While over the grave of Count Ivan a black crow flies.” - -Okh, the Count did not understand that song. He wiped his eyes and said: - -“Come now, Raman! Come, lads, mount your horses! And you, Opanas, ride -with them; I’ve had enough of your singing! That was a good song, only -you sang of things that never happen in this world.” - -But the Cossack’s heart was softened by his song and his eyes were dim. - -“Okh, Count, Count,” says Opanas. “In my country the old men say that -legends and songs contain the truth. But in legends the truth is like -iron that has passed through the world from hand to hand for many years -and has grown rusty. But the truth in songs is like gold that rust will -never corrode. That’s what the old men say!” - -But the Count waved his hand. - -“It may be so in your country, but here it is not so. Go, go, Opanas; I -am tired of listening to you.” - -The Cossack stood still for a moment and then fell at the Count’s feet. - -“Do as I beseech you, Count!” he cried. “Mount your horse and ride home -to your Countess! My heart foretells disaster.” - -At that the Count grew angry in earnest. He kicked the Cossack aside -with his boot as if he had been a dog. - -“Get out of my sight!” he shouted. “Now I see that you’re not a Cossack -but an old woman! Leave me, or evil will befall you! What are you -waiting for, hounds? Am I no longer your master? Here, I’ll show you -something that your fathers never saw done by my father!” - -Opanas rose like a dark thunder-cloud and exchanged glances with Raman. -Raman was standing off at one side, leaning on his carbine as if -nothing had happened. - -The Cossack struck his bandura against a tree; the bandura flew to -pieces and the sound of its groan echoed through the forest. - -“Very well, then!” he cried. “Let the devils in the next world teach -him who will not hear wise counsel in this! I see, Count, you have no -need of a faithful servant!” - -Before the Count could answer Opanas had jumped into his saddle and -ridden away. The other attendants mounted their horses too. Raman -shouldered his carbine and walked away; as he passed the hut he called -out to Aksana: - -“Put the boy to sleep, Aksana; it is time. And prepare a bed for the -Count!” - -They had soon all ridden away into the wood by that road there, and -the Count went into the hut; only the Count’s horse was left standing -outside, tied to a tree. Night was already falling; a murmur was going -about the forest, and a few drops of rain were falling, just as they -are now. Aksana laid me to sleep in the hayloft and made the sign of -the cross over me for the night. I could hear my Aksana crying. - -Okh, what could a little lad like me understand of all that was going -on? I wrapped myself in the hay and lay listening to the storm singing -its song in the forest until I began to fall asleep. - -Eh, hey! Suddenly I heard footsteps outside the hut. They reached the -tree, and some one untied the Count’s horse. The horse snorted and -stamped and galloped away into the forest. The sound of its hoofs soon -died away in the distance. But before long I heard galloping again; -some one was coming down the road. This man rode up post haste, jumped -down from his saddle, and rushed to the window of the hut. - -“Count! Count!” cried the voice of old Bogdan. “Oi, Count! Open the -door quickly! That devil of a Cossack means harm! He has let your horse -loose in the forest!” - -Before the old man had time to finish his sentence he was seized from -behind. I was frightened, for I heard something fall. - -The Count tore open the door and jumped out with his carbine in his -hand, but Raman caught him in the front entry right by the top-knot as -he had done the other, and flung him to the ground as well. - -The Count saw that things were going badly for him and he cried: - -“Oi, let me go, Raman, lad! Have you forgotten the good turn I did you?” - -Raman answered: - -“I remember, wicked Count, the good turn you did me and my wife. And -now I shall pay you for it.” - -But the Count cried again: - -“Help me, help me, Opanas, my faithful servant! I have loved you as my -own son!” - -But Opanas answered: - -“You drove your faithful servant away like a dog. You have loved me as -a stick loves the back which it beats, and now you love me as the back -loves the stick which beats it! I begged and implored you to listen to -me. You wouldn’t!” - -Then the Count began calling to Aksana for help. - -“Intercede for me, Aksana; you have a kind heart!” - -Aksana came running out, wringing her hands. - -“I begged you on my knees, Count, at your feet I once begged you, to -spare my maidenhood, and to-night I besought you not to defile me, a -married woman. You would not spare me, and now you are asking mercy for -yourself. Okh, do not ask it from me; what can I do?” - -“Let me go!” cried the Count once more. “You will all go to Siberia -because of me!” - -“Do not grieve for us, Count,” answered Opanas. “Raman will be out on -the marsh before your men get back, and, as for me, I am alone in the -world, thanks to your kindness. I shan’t worry about myself. I shall -shoulder my carbine and be off into the forest. I shall gather together -a band of lusty lads and we shall roam through the country, coming -forth out of the forest onto the highroads at night. When we reach a -village we shall make straight for the Count’s domain. Come on, Raman, -lad, raise up the Count and let us carry his honour out into the rain.” - -Then the Count began to struggle and scream, but Raman only growled -under his breath, and Opanas laughed. So they went out. - -But I took fright. I rushed into the hut and ran straight to Aksana. -My Aksana was sitting on a bench, as white as that plaster wall. - -And the storm was raging in earnest through the forest by now; the -pines were shouting with many voices, and the wind was howling, while -from time to time a clap of thunder would rend the air. Aksana and I -sat on a bench, and all at once I heard someone groan in the forest. -Okh, he groaned so pitifully that to-day when I remember it my heart -grows heavy, and yet it happened many years ago. - -“Aksana,” I asked, “dear Aksana, who is that groaning in the forest?” - -But she took me in her arms and rocked me and said: - -“Go to sleep, little lad, it is nothing! It is only--the forest -murmuring.” - -And the forest was murmuring indeed! Oh, how loudly it was talking that -night! - -We sat there together a little while longer and then I heard what I -thought was a shot in the forest. - -“Aksana,” I asked, “dear Aksana, who is that shooting with a gun?” - -But she only rocked me and answered: - -“Be quiet, be quiet, little lad; that is God’s lightning striking in -the forest.” - -But she herself was crying, and holding me close to her breast. She -rocked me to sleep, repeating softly: - -“The forest is murmuring; the forest is murmuring, little lad.” - -So I lay in her arms and went to sleep. - -And when morning came, lad, I jumped up, and there was the sun shining -and Aksana sitting all dressed in the hut. I remembered what had -happened the night before and thought: “It was all a dream!” - -But it was not a dream; oi, no, not a dream; it was true. I ran out of -the hut into the forest. The birds were singing and the dew was shining -on the grass. I ran into the thicket and there I saw the Count and a -huntsman lying side by side. The Count was peaceful and pale, but the -huntsman was grey, like a dove, and stern as if he had been alive. On -the breasts of the Count and of the huntsman were bloody stains. - - * * * * * - -“Well, and what became of the others?” I asked, seeing that the old man -had bowed his head and was silent. - -“Eh, hey! That is all there is to the story, as Opanas the Cossack used -to say. He lived long in the forest, roaming about the highroads and -over the domains of the nobles with his lads. His fate had been written -at his birth; his fathers had been robbers and a robber he had to be. -He came here to this hut more than once, lad, most often when Raman -was away. He would come and sit for a while and sing a song and play -upon his bandura. But when he came with his comrades, Aksana and Raman -would always be here together to greet him. Okh, to tell you the truth, -lad, guilty deeds have been done here. Maksim and Zakhar will soon come -back out of the forest--look well at them both. I say nothing to them -about it, but any one who knew Raman and Opanas could tell at a glance -which one of the boys looks like which, although they are not the sons -but the grandsons of those men. That is what has been done here in this -forest, lad, in my memory. - -“And the forest is murmuring loudly to-night. There will be rain.” - - -III - -The old man spoke the last words as if he were tired. His excitement -had died out, his tongue was tripping, his head was shaking, and his -eyes were full of tears. - -Night had fallen; the forest was wrapped in darkness. The wind was -thundering against the but like a rising tide. The black tree-tops were -tossing like the crests of waves in a fierce gale. - -Soon a merry barking announced the approach of the dogs and their -masters. Both foresters appeared striding swiftly toward the hut, and -behind them came the panting Motria, driving in her lost cow. Our -company was now complete. - -A few minutes later we were sitting in the hut. A cheerful fire was -crackling in the stove; Motria was preparing our supper. - -Although I had seen Zakhar and Maksim many times before, I now looked -at them with especial interest. Zakhar’s face was dark. His eyebrows -grew out from under a straight, low forehead, and his eyes were sombre, -although a natural kindness and an inherent strength could also be -read in his features. Maksim’s glance was frank and his grey eyes were -caressing; he ruffled his fair curls now and then, and his laugh was -peculiarly ringing and merry. - -“And what has the old man been telling you?” asked Maksim. “That old -legend about our grandfather?” - -“Yes,” I answered. - -“There now, he always does that! When the forest begins to murmur -loudly he always remembers the past. Now he won’t be able to sleep all -night.” - -“He is like a little child,” added Motria, pouring out the old man’s -tea. - -The old man seemed not to know that they were talking of him. He had -entirely collapsed, and was smiling vacantly from time to time and -nodding his head. Only when the storm that was blustering through the -forest shook the hut did he seem to grow anxious; then he would lend an -ear to the noise, harkening to it with a frightened look on his face. - -Soon all grew quiet in the hut. A tallow-dip flickered dimly and a -cricket was chirping its monotonous song. In the forest a thousand -mighty but muffled voices were talking together and calling fiercely to -one another through the night. Terrible powers seemed to be holding a -noisy conclave in the outer darkness. From time to time the tumultuous -thunder would rise and swell and the door of the hut would quiver as if -some one were leaning against it from the outside, hissing with rage, -while the nocturnal tempest piped a piteous, heart-breaking note in the -chimney. At moments the fury of the storm would abate and an ominous -silence would fall and oppress the heart, until once more the thunder -would rise, as if the ancient pines had plotted to suddenly tear -themselves from their roots and fly away into an unknown land in the -arms of the blast. - -I lost myself for a few moments in a confused slumber, but it could -not have been for long. The gale was howling through the forest in -many tones and keys. The tallow-dip flared and lit up the hut. The old -man was sitting on his bench feeling about him with his arms as if -he expected to find somebody near him. A look of fear and almost of -childish helplessness distorted the face of the poor old man. - -“Aksana!” I heard his piteous whisper. “Dear Aksana, who is that -groaning in the forest?” - -His hands fluttered anxiously and he seemed to be listening for a reply. - -“Eh, hey,” he spoke again. “No one is groaning; it is the noise of -the storm in the forest. That is all; it is the forest murmuring, -murmuring----” - -A few minutes passed. Bluish flashes of lightning stared every second -or two into the little window, and the tall, fantastic forms of the -pines kept springing out of the darkness and vanishing again into the -angry heart of the storm. Suddenly a brilliant light dimmed the pale -flame of the tallow-dip and a sharp, near-by peal of thunder crashed -over the forest. - -The old man again moved anxiously on his bench. - -“Aksana, dear Aksana, who is that shooting with a gun?” - -“Go to sleep, grandfather, go to sleep,” I heard Motria’s quiet voice -answer from her place on the stove. “It’s always like this. He always -calls Aksana if there’s a storm at night. He forgets that Aksana has -long been dead. Okh--ho!” - -Motria yawned, whispered a prayer, and silence fell once more in the -hut, broken only by the noise of the forest and the old man’s anxious -whispering: - -“The forest is murmuring, the forest is murmuring--dear Aksana----” - -Soon a heavy rain began to fall, drowning with its descending torrents -the groans of the pines. - - - - -IN BAD COMPANY - - - - -IN BAD COMPANY - - -I - -THE RUINS - -My mother died when I was six years old. After her death my father -surrendered himself entirely to his own grief, and seemed to forget -my existence. He caressed my little sister at times, and saw to her -welfare in his own way, because he could trace her mother’s features in -her face, but I grew up like a wild sapling of the fields; no one gave -me any especial care, though, on the other hand, no one restricted my -freedom. - -The little village where we lived was called Kniazh Gorodok or -Princetown. It belonged to a proud but impoverished race of Polish -noblemen, and presented all the typical features of any small town -in Southwestern Russia, where the pitiful remnants of stately Polish -grandeur drag out their weary days in a gently flowing current of -incessant toil mingled with the trivial bustle of Jewish “geschäft” or -business. - -If you approached the village from the east, the first thing that -caught your eye was the prison--the great architectural ornament of the -town. The village itself lay spread below you on the shores of its -slumberous ponds, and you descended to it by a steep highway that was -barred at last by the traditional city gates. The drowsy veteran who -was toasting his red face in the sun, the very embodiment of tranquil -sleep, would lazily raise the barrier, and behold! you were in the -town, although at first you might not perceive it. Grey fences and -vacant lots littered with piles of rubbish were interspersed here and -there among the crumbling and staring-eyed little “khatkas” or huts. -Farther on, the wide market place appeared, bright with the roofs of -the Jewish “travellers’ rests,” while the Government buildings gave -an air of melancholy to the scene, with their white walls and their -barrack-like regularity of outline. The wooden bridge thrown across -the little river would groan and tremble under the wheels of your -carriage, swaying like a decrepit old man. A Jewish street led away -from the bridge, lined with warehouses, shops, miserable bazaars, and -bakers’ booths, while the Hebrew money-changers sat at their tables on -the sidewalks under their parasols. Everywhere were dirt and swarms of -children tumbling in the dust of the street. Another minute, however, -and you were already beyond the village. Softly the birches would be -whispering over the graves in the cemetery, while the breeze stirred -the wheat fields, and sang in mournful cadences among the roadside -telegraph wires. - -The little river, spanned by the above mentioned bridge, flowed -from one pond into another, and thus enclosed the town at the north -and south by swamps and broad expanses of water. The ponds had grown -shallower from year to year, until at last they had become choked by -vegetation, and tall, thickly-growing reeds now rippled like the sea -upon the wide marshes. In the centre of one of these ponds was an -island, and on the island stood an old, half-ruined castle. - -I remember with what terror I used always to contemplate this mighty, -decaying pile. Stories and legends, each one more frightful than the -last, were current about it. The island, it was said, was artificial, -piled up by the hands of captive Turks. “The castle is built upon -human bones;” so ran the saying among the old people of the village, -and my childish imagination pictured with horror thousands of Turkish -skeletons supporting with bony hands the island, the castle, and the -tall, pyramidal poplar trees. Of course this only made the castle -appear more terrible than ever, and even on bright days, if, emboldened -by the sunlight and the loud voices of the birds, we approached it -too closely, it would ofttimes throw us into spasms of panic fear, so -horribly did the dark cavities of its windows glower down upon us. A -mysterious rustling would seem to stray through its deserted halls, and -pebbles and bits of plaster would come rattling down, awakening the -muffled echoes. At such times we would scamper away without even a -glance behind us, seeming to hear, long after, sounds of clattering and -banging and laughter resounding in our ears. - -But, on autumn nights, when the giant poplars swayed and chanted under -the wind that came flying to them across the ponds, this horror would -spread from the island to the mainland and would reign over the whole -village. “Oi vei mir!” the Jews would whisper with terror, while -God-fearing old citizens crossed themselves, and even our nearest -neighbour, the blacksmith, the very incarnation of diabolical strength, -would come out into his little yard and, making the sign of the cross, -would mutter under his breath a prayer for the peace of departed souls. - -Old, grey-bearded Yanush, who, for lack of any other abode, had taken -refuge in a cellar of the castle, had often told us that on such nights -as these he could clearly hear cries rising from under the ground. It -was the Turks stirring under the island, knocking their bones together, -and loudly charging their Polish masters with cruelty. Then in the old -castle halls and on the island would resound the clanking of arms, -and the lords would call their liegemen together with loud shouts. -Yanush could hear quite plainly, through the moaning and howling of -the storm, the stamping of horses’ hoofs, the clashing of swords, and -the words of command. He even heard, once, the great-grandfather of -the present Count, immortalised by the memory of his ruthless deeds, -come trampling out on his blooded steed, and, riding to the centre of -the island, cry out with a dreadful oath: “Silence there, you yelping -heathen dogs!” - -The descendants of this Count had long since abandoned the home of -their ancestors. The greater part of the ducats and treasure with which -their coffers had once been filled to overflowing had crossed over the -bridge into the hands of the Jews, and the last representatives of the -glorious line had built themselves a commonplace white house on a hill -a little farther from the town. Here their tedious but vainglorious -lives were spent in contemptuous and dignified isolation. - -Only at rare intervals did the old Count, himself a ruin as gloomy as -the castle and the island, appear in the little town, mounted on an -old nag of English breed. At his side through the streets rode his -daughter, majestic and thin, in a black riding-habit, while their head -groom followed respectfully behind. The stately Countess was fated -to remain forever unwed. Any possible suitors who were her equals in -birth had faint-heartedly scattered across the world in search of the -rich daughters of merchants in foreign lands, and had either deserted -their ancestral castles or had turned them over to be pulled down by -the Jews. As for the little town which lay spread out at the foot of -the hill, not a youth could be found there who would dare to raise his -eyes to the beautiful Countess. We little boys, on catching sight of -these three riders, would pick ourselves up out of the soft dust of -the street, and, scattering timidly like a flock of birds into various -houses, would follow the gloomy lords of the terrible castle with eyes -full of curiosity and fear. - -On a hill west of the town, among decaying crosses and sunken graves, -there stood a long-deserted dissenting chapel, the offspring of a city -in the valley proper below. Hither, in days of yore, the chapel bell -had summoned the townsfolk in their clean if plain surtouts, with -staves in their hands in place of the swords which rattled at the sides -of the small farmers, also called hither from the neighbouring villages -and farms by the clear notes of the chapel bell. - -From here could be seen the island, with its great, sombre poplars, -but the castle kept itself angrily and contemptuously hidden from -the chapel behind their dense greenery. Only when the southwest wind -rose from the reed-beds and descended upon the island did the sighing -poplars sway aside and the castle windows gleam between them, allowing -the castle to cast dark glances at the little chapel. Both were corpses -now. The castle’s eyes were dim and no longer reflected the rays of -the setting sun; the chapel’s roof had fallen in, and, in place of its -sonorous, high-toned copper bell, the screech owls now raised their -evil, midnight voices among its rafters. - -But the old, historic gulf that had, in former times, divided the -proud, lordly castle from the bourgeois dissenting chapel, continued -even after their death, kept open by the worms that had burrowed into -the crumbling corpses and had occupied the safest corners of their -vaults and cellars. The coffin-worms infesting these lifeless buildings -were men. - -There had been a time when the ancient castle had served as a free -refuge without restrictions of any kind for every poor wretch that -needed it. Every one who could find no shelter in the town, every poor -creature that had fallen on evil days and had lost, for one reason or -another, the power to pay even the few copecks needed for a roof and -fire by night and in stormy weather--all these poor wretches found -their way to the island, and there hid their vanquished heads among the -gloomy, threatening, tottering ruins, paying for the hospitality they -found there only by the danger they ran of being buried alive under a -pile of débris. “He lives in the castle” had come to be the expression -used to denote the last stages of beggardom and civilian degradation. -The old castle gladly received and sheltered every variety of wandering -destitution: poor writers temporarily ruined, forlorn old women, and -homeless vagabonds. These persons tore down the interior of the rotting -building, broke up its floors and ceilings, lit their stoves, cooked -heaven knows what, and, in a word, fulfilled in some way or another -their functions of life. - -Nevertheless, there came a day when dissension broke out among the -company roosting under the roof of those hoary ruins. Then it was that -old Yanush, who had once been one of the Count’s smaller “officials,” -prepared a sort of gubernatorial manifesto for himself and seized the -reins of power. He set himself to reorganise things, and for several -days such a hubbub ensued and such cries arose on the island that it -seemed at times as if the Turks had torn themselves from their prison -underground in order to avenge themselves upon their Polish tyrants. -This Yanush sorted out the inhabitants of the ruins, dividing the -sheep from the goats. The sheep, who remained in the castle as before, -helped him to expel the unhappy goats, who were stubborn and put up a -desperate but ineffectual resistance. When, at last, with the silent -but no less effective coöperation of the policeman, order was once more -restored on the island it appeared that the change effected had been -distinctly aristocratic in character. Yanush had allowed only “good -Christians,” that is, Roman Catholics, to remain in the castle, and, -besides this, most of them were either former servants or descendants -of servants of the Count’s family. They were all either old men in -long, tattered cloaks with huge red noses, or hideous, scolding hags -who still clung, in the last stages of destitution, to their caps and -mantles. They formed a homogeneous, closely united, aristocratic circle -that had established, as it were, a monopoly in the trade of beggary. -On week-days these old dames and gaffers would go with prayers on their -lips from house to house of the more prosperous townspeople, carrying -gossip, complaining of their hard lot, and pouring forth tears and -supplications; but on Sundays they would appear as the most honoured -members of those long lines that, in Western Russia, extend from the -doors of Roman Catholic churches. There they would proudly accept -offerings in the name of the “Lord Jesus” and the “Lady Mother of God.” - -Attracted by the uproar and shouts that came to us from the island -during the revolution, I betook myself thither with a few of my -companions, and, hiding behind the thick trunks of the poplars, -we watched Yanush at the head of an army of red-nosed dotards and -unsightly shrews drive out the last inhabitants of the castle that were -liable to expulsion. Evening fell. Drops of rain were already falling -from a cloud that was hanging over the high summits of the poplars. A -few unhappy wretches, wrapping their impossibly tattered rags about -them, still lingered about the island, piteous, confused, and scared, -and, like toads that have been poked out of their holes by boys, tried -to crawl back unnoticed into some cranny of the castle wall. But Yanush -and the beldames drove them away with curses and cries, threatening -them with sticks and pitchforks, while the silent policeman stood by, -also grasping a stout oaken cudgel, and preserving an armed neutrality, -although he plainly favoured the conquering party. So this unhappy -riffraff disappeared grumbling over the bridge, leaving the island -forever, until one by one they were swallowed up in the rainy darkness -of the rapidly falling night. - -After that memorable evening both Yanush and the old castle, which -had both, until then, impressed me with their vague grandeur, lost -all their attraction in my eyes. Before that night I had liked to -cross over to the island and to contemplate the grey castle walls and -mossy roof, even from afar. When the motley figures of its inmates -crawled out into the brightness of morning, yawning, coughing, and -crossing themselves in the sunlight, I had looked upon them with a -sort of reverence, as upon creatures clothed in the same mystery that -surrounded the whole castle. “They sleep there at night,” thought I; -“they hear everything that happens when the moon looks in at the broken -windows and the wind howls through the great halls.” I had loved to -listen to Yanush, when, with all the loquacity of seventy years, he had -taken his seat beneath a poplar tree and told me tales of the glorious -past of the dying building. Images of this past would rise before my -childish imagination, and there would be wafted into my heart a solemn -melancholy and a vague sympathy for the life lived here of old inside -these dismal walls. Romantic shades of an antiquity unknown to me would -flit across my young soul as the light shadows of clouds flit across a -bright field on a windy day. - -But after that evening the castle and its bard appeared to me in a new -light. Meeting me the following day near the island, Yanush called me -to him and assured me with satisfaction that “the son of such honoured -parents as mine” could now boldly visit the island, as he would find -an absolutely orderly population upon it. He even led me by the hand -up to the very castle, but I snatched my hand out of his almost in -tears, and ran away as fast as my legs could carry me; the castle had -become odious to me. The windows of the upper story had been boarded -up, while the lower floor was ruled over by the “mantles and caps.” -The old women crawled out, looking so unattractive, fawning upon me so -mawkishly, and at the same time scolding one another so loudly that -I honestly wondered how the old Count who was wont to discipline his -Turks on stormy nights could stand having these old crones so near him. -But chiefly I could not forget the cold ruthlessness with which the -triumphant inhabitants of the castle had driven away their unfortunate -fellow-inmates, and my heart contracted at the remembrance of the poor -creatures left without a roof over their heads. - -However this may be, the old castle taught me for the first time the -great fact that, from the sublime to the ridiculous is but a step. That -which was sublime in the castle was all overgrown with convolvulus and -ivy, and that which was ridiculous was revolting to me, and wounded -my childish susceptibility too keenly for me to feel the irony of the -contrast; this was still inaccessible to me. - - -II - -QUEER CHARACTERS - -The nights following the revolution on the island were passed by the -town in great anxiety. Dogs barked, house doors creaked, and the -citizens kept emerging into the streets, knocking on the fences with -sticks, and letting every one know how valiant they were. The town -knew that a band of shivering and hungry folk was roaming through the -streets, cold and wet, in the raw darkness of the rainy night, and -realising full well that only harsh feelings could exist in the hearts -of these people toward it, the town put itself on guard and answered -these sentiments with threats. And, as if on purpose, the nights now -fell upon the earth in the midst of torrents of cold rain, and passed -away leaving low-flying clouds hanging close above the ground. And the -wind bellowed in the heart of the evil weather, shaking the tree-tops, -thundering against the walls, and chanting to me in my bed of the -dozens of human creatures deprived of warmth, with no roof over their -heads. - -But at last spring triumphed over winter’s rage; the sun dried the wet -earth, and in the meantime the homeless wanderers had slipped away, -whither, heaven knows. The nightly barking of the dogs diminished, -the townsfolk stopped knocking on the fences, and life assumed once -more its monotonous and sleepy aspect. The hot sun rose in the sky, -scorched the dusty streets, and drove the lively sons of Israel into -the shelter of their little booths; the “commissionaires” lounged -lazily in the sun, sharply eyeing the passers-by and the Jewish -“geschäft”; the scratching of official pens was heard through the open -windows of the Government buildings; the town ladies wandered up and -down the bazaars in the mornings with baskets on their arms, and in the -evenings came out walking majestically, leaning upon the arms of their -spouses, stirring up the street dust with the full trains of their -dresses. The old men and women from the castle decorously made the -round of their patrons without disturbing the universal harmony. The -townsfolk gladly recognised their right to existence, and considered it -absolutely proper that some people should receive alms every Saturday, -while the denizens of the castle accepted this charity with the utmost -respectability. - -Only the unfortunate exiles now found no protection in the town. -It is true they no longer roamed the streets at night, and people -said they had taken refuge somewhere on the hill near the dissenting -chapel, but how they had managed to find a dwelling place there no -one could exactly say. All saw, however, the most impossible and -suspicious-looking figures in the world climb down every morning from -the cliffs on which the chapel stood and disappear again at twilight -in the same direction. These people disturbed the quiet, sleepy life -of the town by their appearance, standing out like sombre stains -against the grey background of village life. The citizens looked at -them askance with feelings of hostility and alarm, while they, on the -other hand, watched the village with furtively attentive eyes that sent -cold chills running down the back of many a townsman. These persons did -not resemble in any way the aristocratic mendicants from the castle; -the town did not recognise them and they did not ask for recognition. -Their relations with the community were purely war-like in character; -they preferred cursing a townsman to flattering him; they preferred -taking things themselves to asking for them. Nevertheless, as often -happens among a sombre mass of unfortunates, there were those among -them who, for brains and talent, would have been an honour to the more -select society of the castle, but who had been discontented there, -and preferred the more democratic life of the dissenting chapel. A -few of these poor creatures were distinguished by characteristics of -profoundest tragedy. - -I remember vividly to this day how merrily the street would hum as -the melancholy, stooping figure of the old “Professor” walked along -it. He was a gentle being, oppressed by a clouded intelligence, and -he wore an old frieze overcoat and a wide-brimmed hat trimmed with -a faded cockade. His learned title he had appropriated, it seemed, -because of a vague tradition that he had once, somehow, somewhere, -been a tutor. It would be hard to imagine a creature more mild and -harmless. He could generally be seen wandering about the streets with -dim eyes and head sunk forward on his breast. The ingenious townsfolk -knew two peculiarities of his which they made use of to procure a -cruel enjoyment for themselves. The Professor was always muttering -something to himself and no one could ever make out what he was -saying. His words would trickle after one another with the troubled -murmur of a little brooklet, while he fixed his vague eyes upon his -listener’s face as if he were trying to convey to that man’s mind the -elusive meaning of his long discourses. He could be wound up like -a clock, and to do this it was only necessary for one of the lanky -commissionaires dozing on the sidewalk to call the old man to him and -ask him some question. The Professor would shake his head, pensively -fix his faded eyes upon the face of his interlocutor, and begin to -murmur something sorrowful without an end. Thereupon his questioner -could calmly walk away or go to sleep, and when he woke he would still -be certain to see over him that dark, melancholy figure, murmuring his -unintelligible phrases. But, naturally, this situation was not, in -itself, particularly interesting. It was the second of the Professor’s -characteristics that enabled the louts of the street-corners to procure -their most striking effects. The unhappy man could never hear sharp -or pointed instruments mentioned without emotion. And so, at the very -height of his unintelligible eloquence, his listener would suddenly -jump up and scream in a harsh voice: “Knives, scissors, needles, pins!” -Then the poor old man, interrupted in the midst of his reverie, would -throw up his arms with the gesture of a wounded bird, and stare about -him in terror with his hands clutching at his breast. Ah, how many -sufferings are incomprehensible to lanky commissionaires because the -sufferers cannot express their pain by means of a lusty blow! But the -poor Professor would only look about him in deep distress, and his -inexpressible suffering could be divined from his voice as he turned -his clouded eyes upon his tormentor and cried, convulsively tearing at -his breast: - -“A hook--a hook in my heart!” - -He was probably trying to say that his heart had been rent by the -townsman’s exclamation, but naturally it was his very circumstance -that had served to dispel somewhat the tedium of the street loafer. So -the poor Professor would hurry away, his head bowed even lower than -before, as if he feared a blow, and loud peals of laughter would pursue -him as the pert townsfolk ran out into the street, filling the air with -screams like the blows of a lash and shouting: - -“Knives, scissors, needles, pins!” - -In justice to the exiles from the castle, it must be said that -they always stood loyally by one another, and if two or three of -Turkevich’s tatterdemalions, or, more especially, if the retired -grenadier Zausailov descended upon the Professor’s pursuers at such a -time a cruel punishment always overtook a large number of that crowd. -Zausailov, who was the possessor of a huge frame, a purplish blue nose, -and fiercely protruding eyes, had long since declared war on every -living being, and recognised neither treaties nor neutrality. Each -time that he met the Professor with the rabble in pursuit his angry -shouts would fill the air then and long after, as he swept through the -streets like Tamerlane, destroying everything that stood in the way of -his redoubtable progress. Thus he practised “pogroms” on the Jews on a -large scale long before they had begun to break out elsewhere. He would -torture every Jew that fell a prisoner into his hands and wreak insults -on the Hebrew ladies until at last the expedition of the bold grenadier -would come to an end in the gaol, where he was invariably domiciled -after his bloody bouts with the populace in which both sides always -manifested no small amount of valour. - -The other individual the sight of whose misfortunes and downfall was -a source of great amusement to the people, was Lavrovski, a retired -and absolutely drink-sodden Civil Servant. The inhabitants of the town -could easily remember the time when Lavrovski was never spoken of as -anything but “My Lord the Secretary”; when he went about in a uniform -with brass buttons, his neck swathed in handkerchiefs of the most -marvellous hues. It is likely that this circumstance lent an additional -piquancy to the contemplation of his present state. The change in -Lavrovski’s life had come swiftly; it had sufficed for a certain -brilliant officer of dragoons to come to Kniazh Gorodok and live there -for two weeks. In that time he succeeded in winning and carrying off -a golden-haired lady, the rich inn-keeper’s daughter. The inhabitants -of the town never heard of the beautiful Anna again, for she had sunk -forever beneath their horizon. And so Lavrovski was left with all -his bright-hued handkerchiefs, but without the hope that had once -embellished the life of the little official. It was long since he had -ceased to be a Civil Servant. Somewhere, in some remote village, there -lived a family whose hope and mainstay he had once been, but he had -lost all care for anything now. In his rare sober moments he would walk -swiftly through the streets with downcast eyes, looking at no one, -as if he were overcome with shame at the fact of his own existence. -Ragged, dirty, with long, unkempt hair, he was always a prominent -figure in a crowd, and attracted universal attention to himself, but he -seemed never to notice any one, or to hear anything. Only occasionally -would he cast a wild look of bewilderment about him, as much as to say: -“What do these strangers want of me? What have I done to them, and why -do they follow me so persistently with their mockery?” If, during one -of these flashes of consciousness, his ear caught the name of the lady -with the golden hair a tempestuous fury would rise in his heart, his -eyes would shine in his pale face with dark fire, and he would throw -himself upon the crowd of his tormentors, which would then quickly -disperse. These flashes of anger, rare as they were, strangely provoked -the interest of the loafers who found that time hung heavily on their -hands, and it is no wonder, then, that when Lavrovski walked down the -street with downcast eyes, the rabble that followed him should try to -rouse him from his apathy, and at last begin to throw mud and stones at -him. - -When Lavrovski was drunk he would obstinately seek out dark -fence-corners and swampy meadows and other such extraordinary places, -and there he would sit, his long legs stretched out in front of him, -his poor grey head sunk on his breast. Solitude and vodka awoke in him -a flow of expansiveness and a desire to pour forth the sorrow of his -heavy heart, so he would embark upon endless stories of his ruined -youth, addressing himself now to the grey posts of the ancient fence, -now to the birch trees indulgently whispering something over his head, -now to the magpies that came hopping up to his gloomy figure with -feminine curiosity. - -If any of us little boys succeeded in tracking him to such a place -we would silently surround him and listen with beating hearts to his -long and terrible stories. Our hair would stand on end as we gazed -with horror at that pale creature accusing himself of every crime -under the sun. According to Lavrovski’s own account he had killed his -father, driven his mother into the grave, and brought disgrace on his -brothers and sisters. We had no reason for not believing these fearful -confessions, and were only surprised that Lavrovski seemed to have had -several fathers; he had thrust a sword into the heart of one, another -he had killed with slow poison, a third he had dragged down with him -into some abyss or other. So we would listen, overwhelmed with sympathy -and horror, until Lavrovski’s tongue became more and more entangled -and at last ceased to be able to pronounce articulate sounds; merciful -sleep would then put an end to the outpouring of his confessions. - -The grown people laughed at us and told us that these stories were all -moonshine, and that Lavrovski’s parents had died a natural death from -sickness or starvation. But our tender, childish hearts heard the cries -of genuine affliction in his groans, and, taking the allegories of the -unhappy man literally, we came nearer than our elders to understanding -the tragic wrecking of his life. - -When Lavrovski’s head had sunk lower than ever and snores, broken by -nervous sobs, came from his throat, we would lean our little heads -over the poor man. We would peer into his face and watch the shadows -of his misdeeds flitting across it even in his sleep; we would see his -brows contract convulsively and his lips tighten in a piteous, almost -childishly plaintive grimace. - -“I’ll kill you!” he once shrieked suddenly, conscious of a vague -uneasiness caused by our presence, and at this we scattered like a -flock of startled birds. - -It sometimes happened that rain fell on him sleeping thus, dust covered -him, and several times in the autumn he was literally buried in snow. -If he did not die an untimely death, he without doubt owed this to the -care which other unfortunates like himself took of his pitiful person. -Especially did he owe his life to the jolly Turkevich, who would search -him out, pull him up, set him on his feet, and take him away with him. - -Turkevich belonged to the class of people, who, as he himself expressed -it, do not spit in their own porridge, and while the Professor and -Lavrovski were passive sufferers, he presented the appearance of -a person who was happy and fortunate in many ways. To begin with, -he had suddenly announced that he was a general without asking the -assent of any one, and demanded that the townsfolk should call him by -that honourable title. As no one dared to question his right to it, -Turkevich very soon became imbued with a belief in his own greatness. -He always stalked along very majestically, knitting his brows severely, -and displaying a perfect readiness to break any one’s jaw, which last -act he evidently considered the special prerogative of a general. If -his care free brain was ever visited for a moment by doubts on the -score of his title, he would catch the first man he saw on the street -and sternly ask him: - -“Who am I, eh?” - -“General Turkevich!” the man would answer meekly, feeling himself in -an awkward position, whereupon Turkevich would slowly release him and -proudly twirl his whiskers. - -“Ex-actly!” - -And as he had, beside all this, a very special way of twirling his -beetling moustache and an inexhaustible fund of quaint sayings and -witticisms, it was not surprising that he was constantly surrounded by -a crowd of lively listeners. Even the doors of the best restaurants, -where the landholders of the country assembled to play billiards, -were open to him. To tell the truth, however, it not infrequently -happened that General Turkevich would come flying out of them with -the alacrity of a man who is being shoved rather unceremoniously -from behind. But these incidents, which he explained by the lack of -respect the landholders had for wit, had no effect upon Turkevich’s -general frame of mind. A state of happy self-confidence and continual -intoxication--that was his normal condition. - -In this last circumstance lay the second key to his felicity; one -glass of vodka was enough to keep him fuddled for a day. This fact -people explained by the immense quantity which Turkevich had already -drunk, and which was said to have converted his blood into a solution -of vodka. All that was necessary now was for the General to bring this -solution to a proper strength, for it to ripple and rush through his -veins, painting the world for him with rainbow tints. - -If, on the other hand, for one reason or another, the General could not -procure a glass of vodka for a day or two, he would suffer the most -excruciating torture. First he would fall into a fit of melancholy and -low spirits. All knew that at these times the terrible General was more -helpless than a child, and many hastened to wreak vengeance upon him -then for insults received. They would beat him and spit upon him and -cover him with mud, while he would not even try to run away from the -disgrace, but would bellow at the top of his lungs while the tears -streamed in torrents down his long, drooping moustache. The poor wretch -would turn to every one, imploring them to kill him; saying that, -anyhow, he was doomed to die a dog’s death in a fence corner. At that -every one would stand aside, for there was something in the voice and -face of the General at those times which sent even his most determined -enemies away as fast as their legs could carry them. They could not -bear to see the face, to hear the voice of a man who, for an instant, -was conscious of the appalling tragedy of his lot. - -Then another change would come over the General and he would grow -terrible to look at. His eyes would flash feverishly, his cheeks would -cave in, his short hair would bristle on his head, he would go off into -a kind of frenzy, and, rising to his feet, would stalk triumphantly -through the streets, beating his breast and announcing to every one in -a loud voice: - -“I am going! Like Jeremiah, I am going to denounce the ungodly!” - -This was always the signal for an interesting scene. - -It may safely be said that Turkevich played the part of a famous -person in our little town, so it was small wonder that the sedatest -and busiest of our townsmen should drop their work and mingle with the -rabble at the heels of the new prophet, or that at least they should -watch his progress from afar. He usually went first to the Secretary of -the County Court, and before his house he would hold something like a -session of court, choosing suitable members of the crowd to take the -parts of the plaintiff and the defendant. He himself would make the -pleas and reply to them, mimicking very skilfully the voice and manner -of a prisoner. - -As he was always able to give a contemporary flavour to his -performances by alluding to some fact well known to all, and as he -was extremely well versed in the procedures of a court room, it was -not surprising that the Secretary’s cook should come flying out of -the house in a twinkling, touch Turkevich on the arm, and hastily -disappear, repulsing as she went the attentions of Turkevich’s -followers. Turkevich would laugh sardonically on receiving this gift, -and, waving the money triumphantly, would retire to the nearest tavern. - -Having slightly slaked his thirst there, he would continue to lead his -audience from house to house of those whom he “denounced,” varying his -programme to suit each particular case. As he always received money for -each performance, his fierce tone would gradually become more mild, his -moustache would begin to curl once more, and the denunciatory drama -gradually became a merry vaudeville that generally ended in front of -the house where Kotz, the Captain of Police, lived. Kotz was the most -kindly of all the city officials and had only two little weaknesses: -he dyed his grey hair black and had a partiality for fat cooks. In -everything else he showed an implicit confidence in the will of God and -the “gratitude” of the townsfolk. Having arrived in front of the Police -Captain’s house, Turkevich would wink gaily at his companions, throw up -his cap, and announce in stentorian tones that not the Police Captain -lived here, but Turkevich’s own father and benefactor. - -Then he would fix his eyes on the windows and await results. The -consequence was always one of two things: either the fat, red-cheeked -Matriona would come running out of the front door with a present from -Turkevich’s “father and benefactor,” or the door would remain closed, -and Turkevich would catch sight at a window of an angry old face in a -frame of coal-black hair, while Matriona would creep through back ways -to the police station. There the cobbler Mikita, who made a very good -living out of these very affairs with Turkevich, was always sitting. On -seeing Matriona he would immediately throw down his boot-last and rise -from his seat. - -Meanwhile Turkevich, seeing that no good results followed his -dithyrambs, would, little by little, cautiously have recourse to -satire. He would usually begin by remarking what a pity it was that his -benefactor thought it necessary to dye his honourable grey hair with -shoe blacking. Next, grieved by the absolute lack of attention which -his eloquence received, he would raise his voice and begin to assail -his benefactor as a melancholy example of a man living illegally with -Matriona. By the time he reached this delicate subject, the General had -always lost all hope of reconciliation with his “benefactor,” and would -therefore arm himself with all the genuine eloquence of indignation. It -was a pity that an unexpected interruption almost always came at this -point in his speech. Kotz’s angry yellow face would appear thrust out -of one of the windows of his house, and Mikita, who had crept up with -marvellous dexterity, would seize Turkevich from behind. No member of -his audience ever tried to warn the orator of his approaching danger, -for Mikita’s artistic methods always called forth universal admiration. -Cut off in the midst of a word, the General would suddenly whirl -through the air and find himself upside down on Mikita’s back. A few -seconds more, and the sturdy cobbler would be quietly making his way -to the gaol, bending slightly beneath his burden, and followed by the -deafening shouts of the populace. Another minute, and the black door of -the police station would gape like a pair of forbidding jaws and the -General would disappear into the darkness, helplessly kicking his feet. -The thankless mob would cry, “Hurrah for Mikita!” and gradually melt -away. - -Beside these individuals who were conspicuous among the ranks of the -vagabonds, a dark crew of pitiful, ragged creatures had taken refuge -near the chapel, and these never failed to create intense excitement by -their appearance at the bazaars. The merchants would hastily seek to -protect their goods with their hands, as a hen covers her brood when -a hawk appears in the sky above her. There was a rumour afloat that -these poor wretches had formed a fraternal organisation and that now, -since they had been deprived of their last resources by their expulsion -from the castle, they occupied themselves with petty thieving in the -town and its environs. Such rumours were chiefly founded on the fact -that a man cannot live without bread, and as all the suspicious persons -had in some way or other abandoned the normal way of obtaining it, and -had been cut off from the benefits of local charity, it was naturally -concluded that they must either steal or die. As they did not die, -the very fact of their remaining alive was evidence of their guilty -practices. - -If this was true, it was no less apparent that the organiser and leader -of the band could be no other than Tiburtsi Drab, the most remarkable -of all the queer characters that had lost their home in the castle. - -Drab’s origin was shrouded in the most mystifying uncertainty. Those -who were gifted with a vivid imagination credited him with having an -aristocratic name which he had brought to shame; he was therefore -obliged to conceal himself, at the same time taking part, it was said, -in the exploits of the notorious Karmeliuk. But, in the first place, -he was not old enough for this, and, in the second place, Tiburtsi’s -appearance did not present one single aristocratic feature. He was -tall, and his heavily stooping shoulders seemed to tell of great -burdens borne by the unfortunate man. His large features were coarsely -expressive. His short, reddish hair bristled stiffly all over his head; -his receding forehead, his slightly projecting lower jaw, and the rapid -play of his facial muscles lent something apish to his face, but the -eyes that sparkled under his beetling brows were determined and dark, -and there shone in them, beside cunning, a keen perspicacity, energy, -and an uncommon intelligence. While his features were changing under -the kaleidoscopic play of his expressions, his eyes would retain their -same fixed, unvarying look, and for this reason the buffoonery of the -strange man filled me with unreasoning dread. - -Tiburtsi’s hands were callous and rough, and he stamped his great feet -like a peasant. Therefore the consensus of opinion among the townsfolk -was that he was not of aristocratic birth, and the most they would -concede was that he might have been the servant of a great family. -But here another difficulty presented itself: how, then, explain the -phenomenal learning that every one unanimously admitted he possessed? -It was impossible not to acknowledge this obvious fact, for there -was not a tavern in the whole town where Tiburtsi had not stood on a -barrel and spouted whole speeches from Cicero and Xenophon for the -benefit of the Little Russians collected there on market days. These -Little Russians would gape and nudge one another with their elbows, -while Tiburtsi, towering above them in his rags, would thunder forth -Catilinus or paint the exploits of Cæsar and the craft of Mithridates. -Little Russians are, by nature, endowed with a glowing fancy, and -these were able to read their own meaning into Tiburtsi’s fiery if -unintelligible speeches. When the orator beat his breast and turned -to them with flashing eyes, exclaiming: “Patres Conscripti!” they too -would knit their brows and say to one another: - -“Aha, the son of a gun, he does bark!” - -Later, when Tiburtsi would raise his eyes to the ceiling and begin -declaiming endless verses of Latin poetry, his whiskered audience -would follow every word he uttered with timid and pitying sympathy. -They felt as if the soul of their orator were soaring somewhere in an -unknown region where people did not talk like Christians, and by his -despairing gestures they concluded that it was there meeting with the -most sorrowful adventures. But this sympathetic tension reached its -height whenever Tiburtsi rolled up his eyes so that only the whites -were visible and wrung his audience’s heart with endless recitations -from Virgil and from Homer. Such hollow, sepulchral tones would then -shake his voice that those who sat farthest away and were most under -the influence of the Jewish “gorelka”[G] would hang their heads until -their long top-knots dangled before them, and begin to sob: - -“Oh, oh, little mother, how sad it is!” while the tears would flow from -their eyes and trickle piteously down their long whiskers. - -This learning of the queer fellow’s made it necessary to invent a new -hypothesis about him which should tally more closely with the obvious -facts. It was at last agreed that Tiburtsi had once been the house-boy -of a count who had sent him to a Jesuit school with his own son, -desiring that he should clean the young gentleman’s boots. It appeared, -however, that the young count had received most of the blows of the -holy fathers’ three-tailed “disciplinarian,” while the servant had -appropriated the learning intended for the head of his master. - -As a result of the mystery which surrounded Tiburtsi, he was credited -among other things with having an intimate knowledge of witchcraft. If -a “witch-ball”[H] suddenly appeared in the billowy fields that closed -like a sea about the last hovels of the town, no one could pull it up -with less danger to himself and to the reapers than Tiburtsi. If an -owl settled in the evening on some one’s roof and, with loud cries, -summoned death to the house, Tiburtsi would be sent for and would drive -the ill-omened bird away by reciting quotations from Livy. - -No one could even conjecture how Tiburtsi happened to have children, -and yet the fact was obvious; there were even two facts, a boy of -seven, unusually well-grown and intelligent for his age, and a little -girl of three. Tiburtsi had led, or rather carried, the boy with him -during the early days of his appearance over our horizon. As for -the little girl, he had seemed to vanish for several months into an -absolutely unknown place in order to procure her. - -The boy, whose name was Valek, was tall and thin and dark. He might -sometimes be seen sauntering gloomily about the town with his hands in -his pockets, casting sidelong glances about him without having anything -in particular to do, and was the cause of many a palpitating heart to -the bakers. - -The little girl was only seen once or twice, borne aloft in Tiburtsi’s -arms. She then disappeared and no one knew whither she had gone. - -People spoke of certain subterranean passages on the hill near the -dissenting chapel, and such places were not uncommon in that part of -Russia, over which the Tartars had so often swept with fire and sword, -where Polish licence had run high, and where the fierce heroes of the -old Ukraine had held their bloody tribunals. So every one believed -in the existence of these caves, especially as it was clear that -the band of poor unfortunates must be living somewhere. They always -disappeared toward evening in precisely the direction of the chapel. -Thither the Professor hobbled with his drowsy gait; thither strode -Tiburtsi, swiftly and resolutely; thither staggered Turkevich, leading -the fierce and helpless Lavrovski; thither went a crowd of other -suspicious creatures, and vanished into the darkness of night. There -was no man brave enough to follow them up the slippery clay landslides -that clothed the hillside. The hill, which was honeycombed with graves, -enjoyed an evil reputation. Blue flames might be seen burning in the -old cemetery in the dusk of autumn nights, and the screech owls hooted -so shrilly and loudly in the chapel that even the blacksmith’s fearless -heart would quail when the cries of the accursed birds came to his ears. - - -III - -MY FATHER AND I - -“This is bad, young man, bad!” old Yanush used often to say, meeting me -in the street in Turkevich’s train or among Tiburtsi’s audience. - -And as he said this the old man would wag his grey beard. - -“This is bad, young man; you are in bad company. It is a pity, a very -great pity to see the son of such honourable parents among them.” - -As a matter of fact, since my mother had died and my father’s gloomy -face had become even more sombre than before, I was very seldom seen -at home. I used to creep into the garden like a young wolf in the late -summer evenings, carefully avoid a meeting with my father, open my -window which was half-concealed by lilac bushes, and slip silently into -bed. If my little sister was not asleep in her cradle in the next room -I used to go in to see her, and we would softly kiss one another and -play together, taking care not to wake our grumbling old nurse. - -In the morning, at break of day, while every one else in the house was -still asleep, I was already tracing a dewy pathway through the tall -grass of our garden, jumping across the fence, and making my way to the -pond where my madcap companions would be waiting for me with fishing -rods. Or else I would go down to the mill where the sleepy miller would -have opened the sluices a few moments before, and where the water, its -glassy surface delicately quivering, would already be plunging down the -mill-race, going bravely on its way to its daily toil. - -The big mill-wheels, roused by the water’s noisy blows, would quiver -too and seem to yield unwillingly, as if loath to forego their sleep, -but next moment they would be turning, splashing the foam about, and -bathing themselves in the cold torrent. - -Behind them the shafts would slowly begin to revolve; inside the mill -pinions would rattle, millstones would whirr, and a white floury dust -would rise in clouds through the cracks of the venerable building. - -Then I would run on--I loved to meet Nature at her awakening. I was -glad when I succeeded in rousing a sleepy lark or in startling a -timid hare from its form. The dew-drops would be dripping from the -maiden-hair and from the faces of the meadow flowers as I crossed the -fields on my way to the woods beyond the town. The trees would greet me -with a drowsy murmur. The pale, surly faces of the prisoners would not -yet be peering from the windows of the gaol, and only the sentry would -be walking around its walls, noisily rattling his rifle as he relieved -the tired night-watchman. - -Although I had made a long round, when I reached the town again I would -still meet sleepy figures here and there, opening the shutters of the -houses. But when the sun rose over the hill, a rackety bell would ring -out across the ponds calling the school-boys together, and hunger would -drive me home to my morning tea. - -Every one called me a tramp and a young good-for-nothing, and I was on -the whole so often reproached with my many wicked tendencies, that at -last I came to be persuaded of them myself. My father believed in them -too, and sometimes made an effort to take my education in hand, but -these attempts invariably ended in failure. The sight of his stern, -melancholy face on which lay the harsh imprint of inconsolable grief -frightened me and drove me into myself. I would stand uneasily before -him, first on one foot and then on the other, glancing about me, and -plucking at my little breeches. Sometimes I seemed to feel something -rising in my breast; I wanted him to kiss me and take me on his knee. I -should then have nestled to his breast and perhaps we should have wept -together--the stern man and the child--at the thought of our common -loss. But he would look at me instead with dim eyes that seemed to be -staring at something over my head, and I would shrink under that gaze, -which was incomprehensible to me. - -“Do you remember your mother?” - -Did I remember her? Ah, yes, I remembered! I remembered how, in the -night, I used to awaken and, finding her soft arms in the darkness, -would nestle near them, covering them with kisses. I remembered her as -she had sat dying at the open window, gazing sorrowfully at the lovely -Spring landscape before her, bidding it farewell in the last year of -her life. - -Ah, yes, I remembered her! As she lay beautiful, young, and covered -with flowers, but with the seal of death upon her pale face, I had -crouched in a corner like a young wild thing, staring at her with -burning eyes before which the whole awful riddle of life and death was -being unfolded. And at last, when a crowd of strangers had borne her -away, was it not my sobs that filled the house with low sounds of -weeping on the first night of my bereavement? - -Ah yes, I remembered her! And still, in the silence of night, I would -awaken with my childish heart bursting with an overflowing love, a -smile of happiness on my lips, in blessed forgetfulness, wrapped in -the rosy dreams of childhood. And once more it seemed that she was -with me, and that at any moment I might feel again her gentle, loving -kiss. But my arms would reach out into the empty darkness, and again -the consciousness of my bitter loneliness would pierce my soul. Then -I would press my hands to my aching heart and scalding tears would -trickle down my cheeks. - -Ah yes, I remembered her! But at the question of that tall, stern man -with whom I wished to feel a sense of kinship and could not, I would -wince more than ever, and quietly withdraw my little hand from his. - -And he would turn away from me with anger and pain. He felt that he had -not the slightest influence over me, that an insurmountable barrier -stood between us. He had loved her too much while she was alive to -notice me in his happiness, and now his deep sorrow hid me from him. - -So little by little the gulf dividing us grew ever wider and deeper. He -became more and more convinced that I was a wicked, worthless boy, with -a hard, selfish heart, and the feeling that he _should_ but could not -teach me; _should_ love me, but could not find a corner in his heart -to harbour this love, still more increased his dislike for me. And -this I felt. I used to watch him sometimes from where I stood hidden -behind the shrubbery. He would walk up and down the garden paths with -ever quickening footsteps, groaning with the unbearable agony in his -heart. My heart too would ache with sympathy and pity at the sight of -him. Once, when he took his head in his hands and sank down sobbing on -a bench, I could endure it no longer and ran out of the shrubbery into -the path, impelled by an undefinable impulse to be near him. - -But he, roused from his gloomy and hopeless meditations, looked at me -sternly and checked me with the cold question: - -“What do you want?” - -I did not want anything. I turned quickly away, ashamed of my outburst, -afraid lest my father should read it in my blushing face. I ran into -the grove in the garden and falling on my face in the grass wept -bitterly from vexation and pain. - -At six years I had already experienced all the horrors of loneliness. - -My sister Sonia was four. I loved her passionately and she returned my -love, but the general, fixed opinion that I was an out-and-out little -rascal at last succeeded in raising a high barrier between us. Whenever -I began to play with her in my noisy, frolicsome way, our old nurse, -always sleepy and always picking over hen feathers for pillows with -closed eyes, would wake up in an instant, swiftly seize my Sonia, and -carry her away, throwing an angry glance at me. At such times she -always reminded me of a ruffled brood-hen, while I likened myself to -a marauding hawk, and Sonia to a little chicken. I would be hurt and -vexed. It was no wonder, then, that I soon abandoned all attempts to -amuse Sonia with my objectionable games, and in a little while both our -house and the little garden began to grow irksome to me, for I found -there neither welcome nor kindness. I began to roam. My whole being -was quivering with strange presentiments; a foretaste, as it were, of -life. It seemed to me that I should surely find something somewhere -out there, in that great, unknown world beyond the old walled garden; -I felt as if I should and would do something, only I knew not what, -and from the bottom of my soul a feeling that tempted me and teased me -rose up to meet this mystery. I was constantly awaiting the solution of -these riddles, and instinctively fled from our nurse and her feathers, -from the familiar, lazy whispering of the apple trees in our little -garden, and from the silly knife-blows that resounded whenever meat -was being chopped in our kitchen. From then on the epithets of “street -urchin” and “tramp” were added to my other unflattering appellations. -But I paid no heed to this; I had grown accustomed to reproaches, and -endured them as I endured sudden downpours of rain and the fierce heat -of the sun. I listened scowling to all rebukes and went my own way. -Wandering through the streets, I watched the life of the town with -childishly inquiring eyes; I listened to the rumbling of the wagons on -the highway and tried to catch the echoes of great far-away cities, -either in the clatter of their wheels or in the whispering of the wind -among the tall Cossack tombs by the roadside. More than once did my -eyes open wide with fear, more than once did my heart stop beating -at the panorama of life unfolding before me, picture after picture, -impression after impression, each leaving a vivid imprint on my heart. -I saw and knew a great deal that children much older than myself -ordinarily never see, and all the while that unexplained something -which had risen from the depths of my childish soul called to me as -before, ceaseless, mysterious, vibrant. - -After the shrews of the castle had deprived the old building of my -respect and admiration, and when every corner of the town had become -familiar to me down to the last filthy alley, then I began to turn my -eyes into the distance, toward the hill on which the dissenting chapel -stood. At first I approached it from one side and then from another -like a timid animal, not daring to climb a hill that had such an evil -reputation. But as I gradually grew more familiar with the place, I -began to see before me only peaceful graves and fallen crosses. Nowhere -were there any visible signs of life or of the presence of human -beings. It lay quiet, deserted and alone. Only the chapel frowned at -me with its empty windows, as if absorbed in melancholy meditation. I -longed to inspect the building from every point of view, to look inside -it, and so to make sure that there was nothing in it but dust. But it -was both terrifying and inconvenient to undertake such an expedition -alone, and so I enlisted a small army of three scape-graces, urchins -who were attracted to the adventure by the promise of cakes and of -apples from our garden. - - -IV - -I MAKE SOME NEW ACQUAINTANCES - -We started on our expedition one day after dinner, and, having reached -the hill, began climbing the clay landslides that had been torn from -its side by grave diggers long dead and by the freshets of Spring. -These landslides had stripped the hillside bare, and here and there -white, crumbling bones protruded through the clay. In one place the -rotting corner of a coffin jutted out; in another a human skull grinned -at us, fixing us with its dark, hollow eyes. - -At last, lending one another a hand, we scrambled up over the last -cliff and found ourselves on the summit of the hill. The sun was -already nearing the horizon. Its slanting rays were tenderly gilding -the sward of the old cemetery, playing across its ancient, zig-zag -crosses, and streaming through the windows of the chapel. The air was -still, and about us reigned the deep peace of a deserted burial ground. -Here we no longer saw skulls and shank-bones and coffins. A soft, -gently sloping carpet of fresh green grass had lovingly concealed in -its embrace the horror and ugliness of death. - -We were alone. Only the sparrows were bustling merrily about us, and -a few swallows were silently flying in and out of the windows of the -chapel standing disconsolately among its grassy graves, modest crosses, -and the tumble-down stone sepulchres on the débris of which gleamed the -bright faces of butter-cups, violets, and clover blossoms. - -“No one is here,” said one of my companions. - -“The sun is setting,” added another, looking at the sun, which, -although it had not yet set, was hanging low above the hill. - -The doors and windows were boarded up for some distance above the -ground, but, with the help of my companions, I had hopes of scaling -them and peeping into the chapel. - -“Don’t!” cried one of my band, suddenly losing his courage and seizing -my arm. - -“Get away, you old woman!” the oldest of our little army shouted at -him, deftly offering me his back. - -I jumped bravely upon it; he stood up, and I found myself with my feet -on his shoulders. In this position I could easily reach the window-sill -with my hand. I made sure of its strength, and then pulled myself up -and sat on it. - -“Well, what do you see?” the boys asked from below, with lively -curiosity. - -I was silent. By peering over the sill I could see down into the -interior of the chapel, from whence there rose to meet me all the -solemn quiet of an abandoned place of worship. The interior of the -tall, narrow building was innocent of paint. The evening sunlight was -streaming unobstructed through the open windows, staining the peeling -walls a brilliant gold. I saw the inside of the closed door, the -crumbling gallery, the ancient tottering columns. The distance from -the window to the floor appeared much greater than from the window to -the grass outside. I seemed to be looking down into a deep abyss, and -at first I could not make out what certain strange objects were whose -fantastic forms were resting upon the floor. - -Meanwhile my friends were growing weary of standing below waiting for -me to give them news, and one of them climbed up by the same method -that I had employed, and took his seat beside me, holding on to the -window frame. - -“That’s the altar,” he said, looking down at one of the strange objects -on the floor. - -“And that’s the lustre.” - -“And that’s the little table for the Bible.” - -“Yes, but what’s that?” I asked, pointing to the dark shape that lay -beside the altar. - -“That’s a priest’s hat.” - -“No, it’s a bucket.” - -“What would they have used a bucket for?” - -“To carry coals for the incense.” - -“No, it certainly is a hat. Anyhow, we can find out!” I cried. “Here, -let’s tie your belt to the window-sill, and you can let yourself down -by it!” - -“I like that! Let yourself down if you want to!” - -“Do you think I wouldn’t go?” - -“Go on then!” - -Acting on impulse I tied the two belts together, slipped them under the -window-sill, and, giving one end to my companion, let myself down by -the other. I trembled as my feet touched the floor, but a glance at my -friend’s face bending sympathetically over me reassured me. The sound -of my heels rang out under the ceiling, resounding in the chapel’s -void, and echoing among its dark corners. A few sparrows started up -from their roosts in the gallery and fluttered out through a large hole -in the roof. All at once I caught sight of a stern, bearded face under -a crown of thorns looking down at me from over the window in which we -had been sitting. It was an immense crucifix leaning out from high up -under the rafters. - -I was seized with dread. My companion’s eyes sparkled, and he held his -breath with curiosity and sympathy. - -“Are you going any farther?” he asked in a low voice. - -“Yes,” I answered in the same tone, summoning all my courage, but at -that instant something totally unexpected happened. First, we heard -the rattle of plaster falling in the gallery. Then something moved -overhead, stirring up clouds of dust, and a big grey mass flapped its -wings and rose to the hole in the roof. The chapel was darkened in a -moment. A huge old owl, frightened out of a dark corner by our noise, -hung poised for a moment in the aperture with outstretched wings, and -then sailed away. - -A wave of shuddering fear passed over me. - -“Pull me up!” I cried to my playmate, and seized the strap. - -“Don’t be frightened!” he answered soothingly and prepared to pull me -up into the sunshine and the light of day. - -But all at once I saw his face become distorted with alarm. He -screamed, jumped down from the window-sill, and vanished in an instant. -I instinctively looked behind me, and caught sight of a strange -apparition which filled me, however, more with surprise than terror. - -The dark object that had been the subject of our dispute, and that had -first looked like a bucket, then like a hat, and then at last like -a kettle, suddenly flashed across my vision and vanished behind the -altar. All I could distinguish was the dim outline of a small, what -seemed to be a child’s, hand, beckoning the object into its hiding -place. - -It would be hard to describe my sensations at that moment. They were -not painful, the feeling that overcame me could not even be called -fear. I seemed to be in another world. From somewhere, as if from the -world that I had left, there came to me, a few seconds later, the swift -frightened pattering of three pairs of children’s feet. This sound -soon died away, and I was left alone in that tomb-like place, in the -presence of an apparition inexplicable and strange. - -Time ceased to exist for me, therefore I cannot say whether it was soon -or not before I was aware of suppressed whispering under the altar. - -“Why doesn’t he climb up again?” - -“You can see, he’s frightened.” - -The first voice seemed to be that of a very little child, the second -might have belonged to a boy of my own age. I seemed to see, too, a -pair of black eyes shining through the chinks in the old altar. - -“What’s he going to do now?” the whisper recommenced. - -“Wait and see,” answered the older voice. - -Something moved so violently under the altar that the structure -trembled, and a little figure emerged from underneath it. - -It was a boy of nine, taller than I was, thin and slight as a reed. -He was dressed in a dirty shirt, and his hands were thrust into the -pockets of a pair of short, tight breeches. His black hair hung in -shaggy elf-locks over his dark, pensive eyes. - -Although he was a stranger and had appeared on the scene in such an -unusual and unexpected manner, and although he was approaching me with -that infinitely provocative look with which boys always met each other -among our bazaars when they were preparing for a fight, I nevertheless -felt very much braver than I had before. My courage increased when -there appeared from under the altar, or rather from a trap-door in -the floor which was concealed by the altar, another grimy little face -framed in golden curls, and a pair of bright blue eyes fixed on me full -of childish curiosity. - -I moved slightly away from the wall and also put my hands into my -pockets according to the rules of our bazaars. This was a sign that I -was not afraid of my adversary and even partly wished to hint at my -contempt for him. - -We stood face to face, measuring each other with our eyes. Having -stared at me from head to foot, the boy asked: - -“What are you doing here?” - -“Nothing,” I answered. “What business is it of yours?” - -My adversary jerked his shoulder as if he intended to take his hand out -of his pocket and strike me. I did not blink. - -“I’ll show you!” he threatened. - -I stuck out my chest. - -“Hit me! Try!” - -The moment was crucial. On it depended the character of our future -relationship. I waited, but my opponent continued to fix me with the -same scrutinising gaze and did not move. - -“I’ll hit--too----” I said, but more peaceably this time. - -Meanwhile the little girl, with her tiny hands resting on the floor of -the chapel, was trying to scramble up out of the trap-door. She fell -down, got up again, and at last came tottering with uncertain steps -toward the boy. Having reached him, she seized him and nestled closely -to him, at the same time fixing eyes of wonder and fear upon my face. - -This decided the affair. It was obvious that the boy could not fight -under conditions such as these. Of course I was too generous to take -advantage of the awkward situation he was in. - -“What’s your name?” asked the boy, stroking the little girl’s fair -curls. - -“Vasia. What’s yours?” - -“Mine’s Valek. I know you. You live in the garden near the pond. You -have big apples.” - -“Yes, our apples are fine. Don’t you want some?” - -Taking out of my pocket two apples that had been intended as payment -for my shamefully fugitive band, I gave one to Valek and held out the -other to the little girl. But she only hid her face and pressed closer -to Valek. - -“She’s frightened,” he said, and handed the apple to the child himself. - -“What did you come down here for?” he asked next. “Did I ever come into -_your_ garden?” - -“You can come if you want to. I wish you would!” I answered joyfully. - -Valek was taken back. - -“I can’t play with you,” he answered sadly. - -“Why not?” I asked, deeply grieved by the sorrowful voice in which he -had spoken these words. - -“Your father is a judge.” - -“Well, what if he is?” I asked with candid amazement. “You’d play with -me, not with my father!” - -Valek shook his head. - -“Tiburtsi wouldn’t let me.” And as if the name had reminded him of -something, he suddenly recollected himself and went on: “Look here, -you’re a fine boy, but you’d better go. If Tiburtsi should find you -here it would be awful.” - -I agreed that it was time for me to go. The last rays of the setting -sun were already fading behind the windows of the chapel, and the town -was some distance away. - -“How can I get out of here?” - -“I’ll show you. We’ll go out together.” - -“And what about her?” I asked, pointing to the little girl. - -“What, Marusia? She’ll come with us.” - -“How? Through the window?” - -Valek reflected a moment. - -“I’ll tell you what; I’ll help you to climb through the window and -we’ll go out another way.” - -With the help of my new friend I climbed up to the window-sill. Untying -the belt, I slipped it around the sill, seized both ends, and swung -myself into the air. Then, releasing one end, I dropped to the ground -and jerked down the belt. Valek and Marusia were already waiting for me -outside, at the foot of the wall. - -The sun had just set behind the hill. The town was sunk in purple mist, -only the tall poplars on the island, stained by the last glow of the -sunset, stood out sharply defined in pure gold. I felt as if I had been -in the old cemetery for a day and a night; it was as if I had come -there the day before. - -“It’s lovely here!” I exclaimed, struck by the freshness of the evening -and filling my lungs with the cool, damp air. - -“It’s lonely here,” said Valek sadly. - -“Do you live here?” I asked, as the three of us began to descend the -hill. - -“Yes.” - -“Where’s your house?” - -I couldn’t imagine that children like myself could live without a house. - -Valek smiled in his habitual sad way and did not answer. - -We avoided the steep landslides, for Valek knew a better path. Pushing -through the reeds of a dry marsh and crossing a couple of little -streams on narrow planks, we found ourselves on a flat at the foot of -the hill. - -Here we were forced to take leave of one another. I pressed my new -friend’s hand and then held out mine to the little girl. She gave me -her tiny paw affectionately and, looking up at me with her blue eyes, -asked: - -“Will you come again?” - -“Oh, yes,” I answered. “I’ll surely come!” - -“All right,” said Valek thoughtfully. “You might as well come, but only -when our people are in town.” - -“Who are your people?” - -“Why our people: all of them, Tiburtsi and Lavrovski and Turkevich and -the Professor--but perhaps he wouldn’t matter.” - -“All right, I’ll watch for them, and when they’re in town, I’ll come. -Good-bye!” - -“Hi! Listen!” Valek called after me when I had gone a few steps. “You -won’t tell any one you’ve been here with us, will you?” - -“No, not a soul!” I answered firmly. - -“That’s good. And when those idiots of yours ask you what you saw say -the Devil.” - -“All right. I’ll say that.” - -“Good-bye, then!” - -“Good-bye!” - -The thick shades of night were descending on Kniazh Gorodok as I -approached our garden wall. A slender crescent moon was hanging over -the castle and the sky was bright with stars. I was about to climb the -wall when some one seized my arm. - -“Vasia!” my runaway friend burst out in an excited whisper. “Is that -you?” - -“You know it is. And so you all ran away!” - -He hung his head, but curiosity got the better of his confusion and he -asked again: - -“What did you see there?” - -“What do you think I saw?” I answered in a voice that would not admit -of a doubt; “devils, of course. And you are all cowards!” - -Pushing my abashed companion aside, I climbed over the wall. - -Fifteen minutes later I had sunk into a profound slumber, and was -dreaming that I was watching real little devils merrily hopping up out -of the hole in the chapel floor. Valek was chasing them about with a -birch twig, and Marusia, her eyes sparkling with pleasure, was laughing -and clapping her hands. - - -V - -MY ACQUAINTANCESHIP IS CONTINUED - -From thenceforth I became entirely absorbed in my new acquaintances. -At night as I went to bed and on rising in the morning I thought -of nothing but my coming visit to the hill. I now wandered about -the streets for the sole purpose of ascertaining whether the whole -assemblage of what Yanush called the “bad company” was there or not. If -Lavrovski was sprawling in the meadow and Turkevich and Tiburtsi were -holding forth to their audiences, and if the rest of the suspicious -characters were poking about the bazaar, I immediately ran off across -the marsh and up the hill to the chapel, having first filled my pockets -with apples, which I was allowed to pick in our garden, and with -sweet-meats, which I always saved up for my new friends. - -Valek, who was very serious, and whose grown-up ways inspired me with -respect, would quietly accept these gifts and generally put them aside -for his sister, but Marusia would clap her hands and her eyes would -sparkle with unaffected pleasure. The child’s pale cheeks would glow -with rosy colour and she would laugh, and this laugh of our little -friend’s always went straight to our hearts and rewarded us for the -sweets we had sacrificed for her sake. - -This pale, diminutive little creature reminded one of a flower that had -blossomed without seeing the life-giving rays of the sun. Although she -was four years old, she still walked weakly on her crooked little legs, -swaying like a grass-blade as she moved. Her hands were transparent and -thin, and her head nodded on her neck like a bluebell on its stalk, -but her glance was, at times, so unchildlike and sad, and her smile -reminded me so of my mother’s during her last days as she had sat at -her open window with the breeze stirring her hair, that I would often -grow sad myself at the sight of her little babyish face, and the tears -would rise in my eyes. - -I could not help comparing her to my sister who was the same age; the -latter was as round as a dumpling and as buoyant as a rubber ball. -Sonia ran so merrily when she was playing and laughed so ringingly, she -wore such pretty dresses, and every day her nurse would braid a crimson -ribbon into her dark hair. - -But my little friend hardly ever ran and very seldom laughed; when she -did her laughter sounded like the tiniest of silver bells that ten -steps away is scarcely audible. Her dress was dirty and old, no ribbon -decked her hair, which was much longer and thicker than Sonia’s. To my -surprise, Valek knew how to braid it very cleverly, and this he would -do every morning. - -I was a great madcap. People used to say of me: “That boy’s hands and -feet are full of quicksilver.” I believed this myself, although I -could not understand how and by whom the quicksilver could have been -inserted. During the first days of our friendship I brought my high -spirits into the company of my new companions, and I doubt if the -echoes of the old chapel had ever repeated such deafening shrieks as -they did whilst I was trying to rouse and amuse Valek and Marusia with -my pranks. But in spite of them all I did not succeed. Valek would gaze -seriously first at me and then at the little girl, and once when I was -making her run a race with me, he said: - -“Don’t do that, you’ll make her cry.” - -And in fact, when I had teased Marusia into running, and when she heard -my steps behind her, she suddenly turned round, raised her arms above -her head as if to protect herself, looked at me with the helpless eyes -of a trapped bird, and burst into tears. I was touched to the quick. - -“There, you see,” said Valek. “She doesn’t like to play.” - -He seated her on the grass and began picking flowers and tossing them -to her. She stopped crying and began quietly to pick up the blossoms, -whispering something to the golden butter-cups and raising the -blue-bells to her lips. I grew quiet too, and lay down beside Valek and -the little girl. - -“Why is she like that?” I finally asked, motioning with my eyes toward -Marusia. - -“Why is she so quiet, you mean?” asked Valek. And then in a tone of -absolute conviction, he continued: “You see, it is the grey stone.” - -“Yes,” the child repeated like a feeble echo. “It is the grey stone.” - -“Which grey stone?” I asked, not understanding what they meant. - -“The grey stone has sucked her life away,” Valek explained, gazing at -the sky as before. “Tiburtsi says so. Tiburtsi knows.” - -“Yes,” the child once more echoed softly. “Tiburtsi knows everything.” - -I understood nothing of the puzzling words which Valek had repeated -after Tiburtsi, but the argument that Tiburtsi knew everything had its -effect on me. I raised myself on one elbow and looked at Marusia. She -was sitting in the same position in which Valek had placed her, and -was still picking up the scattered flowers. The movements of her thin -hands were slow, her eyes were like blue bruises in her pale face, and -her long lashes were downcast. As I looked at that wee, pathetic figure -I realised that in Tiburtsi’s words, although I could not understand -them, there lay a bitter truth. Something was surely sucking away the -life of this strange child that wept when other children would have -laughed. But how could a grey stone do this thing? - -There was a riddle more dreadful to me than all the ghosts in the old -castle. Let the Turks pining under ground be never so terrible and the -old count never so cruel, they all smacked of the fantastic horror of -ancient legends. But here was something incredibly dreadful taking -place under my very eyes. Something formless, pitiless, cruel, and -heavy as a stone was hanging over this little being’s head, draining -the colour from her cheeks, the brightness from her eyes, and the life -out of her limbs. “It must be done at night,” I thought, and something -wrung my heart until it ached. - -I, too, subdued my boisterous ways under the influence of this feeling. -Suiting our actions to our little lady’s quiet gravity, Valek and I -would put her down somewhere upon the grass and collect flowers and -little bright-hued pebbles for her, or else we would catch butterflies, -or make her sparrow traps of bricks. Sometimes, stretched beside her on -the grass, we would lie gazing at the sky and, as we watched the clouds -sailing high above the chapel’s crumbling roof, we would tell Marusia -stories or talk with one another. - -These conversations cemented the friendship between Valek and me more -firmly every day, and it grew steadily in spite of the sharp contrast -that our characters presented. He opposed a sorrowful gravity to my -impulsive high spirits and won my respect by the masterly, independent -way in which he spoke of grown-up people. He also told me much that was -new to me, things of which I had never thought before. Noticing that he -spoke of Tiburtsi as of a comrade I asked: - -“Is Tiburtsi your father?” - -“He must be,” he answered thoughtfully, as if the question had never -before occurred to him. - -“Does he love you?” - -“Yes,” he answered much more decidedly this time. “He is always doing -things for me, and sometimes, you know, he kisses me and cries.” - -“He loves me and cries too!” Marusia chimed in, with a look of childish -pride. - -“My father doesn’t love me,” I said sadly. “He never kisses me. He is a -horrid man.” - -“No, no,” Valek objected. “You don’t understand. Tiburtsi says he -isn’t. He says the Judge is the best man in the town, and that the town -would have been ruined long ago if it had not been for your father and -the Priest who has just gone into a monastery, and the Jewish Rabbi. -Those three--” - -“What have those three done?” - -“The town hasn’t been ruined because they were there, so Tiburtsi says, -because they look after the poor people. Your father, you know, once -sentenced a count to punishment.” - -“Yes, that’s so. The count was very angry.” - -“There, you see! It’s no joke to sentence a count.” - -“Why?” - -“Why?” Valek repeated. “Because a count isn’t an ordinary person. A -count does what he pleases and drives in a coach, and then _that_ count -had money. He would have given money to any other judge, and the judge -would have let him go and condemned a poor man.” - -“Yes, that’s true. I heard the count shouting in our house: ‘I can buy -and sell every one of you!’” - -“And what did the Judge say?” - -“My father said: ‘Get out of my sight!’” - -“There, now, you see! And Tiburtsi says he isn’t afraid to drive a rich -man away, but when old Ivanovna came to him with her rheumatism he -had a chair brought for her. He’s like that! Even Turkevich has never -raised a rumpus under his windows.” - -That was true; when he was on his denunciatory expeditions Turkevich -always passed by our windows in silence, and sometimes even took off -his cap. - -All this set me thinking deeply. Valek was showing me my father in a -light in which I had never before seen him, and the boy’s words touched -chords of filial pride in my heart. I was pleased to hear these praises -of my father coming from Tiburtsi who “knew everything,” but there -still quivered in my breast, with a pang of aching love, the bitter -certainty that this man never could and never would love me as Tiburtsi -loved his children. - - -VI - -AMONG THE “GREY STONES” - -Several days passed. The “bad company” ceased to appear in town, and I -wandered through the streets in vain, feeling sad and lonely, waiting -for them to return so that I might hasten to the hill. - -Only the Professor came down once with his sleepy walk; neither -Tiburtsi nor Turkevich appeared. I was thoroughly unhappy, for not to -see Valek and Marusia had come to be a great loss to me. But one day as -I was walking down the street with hanging head Valek suddenly laid his -hand upon my shoulder. - -“Why don’t you come to see us any more?” he asked. - -“I’m afraid to--I haven’t seen your people in town.” - -“O--oh--and I never thought of telling you! Our people aren’t at home; -you can come. And I thought it was something else!” - -“What?” - -“I thought you were tired of coming.” - -“No, no! I’m coming at once; I even have the apples here with me.” - -At mention of the apples Valek suddenly turned toward me as if he -wanted to say something, but nothing came, and he only gave me an odd -look. - -“No matter, no matter,” he dismissed the question, seeing that I was -looking expectantly at him. “Go along up the hill; I have something to -do; I’ll catch you up on the way.” - -I walked along, glancing back frequently, expecting to be overtaken -by Valek, but I had climbed the hill and reached the chapel before he -had appeared. I stopped in doubt as to what I ought to do. Before me -lay the graveyard, desolate and hushed, without the faintest sign of -human habitation. Only sparrows were twittering in the sunshine, and -a thicket of wild cherry trees, honeysuckle, and lilac bushes that -nestled close up under the southern wall of the chapel was softly -whispering something with its dark, dense foliage. - -I looked about. Where should I go next? Clearly, the only thing to do -was to wait for Valek. So I began to wander among the graves, idly -trying to decipher the epitaphs on the mossy tombstones. As I was -roaming thus from grave to grave, I suddenly stumbled upon a large, -half-ruined vault. The roof of this vault had been taken off or else -had been torn away by storms, and was lying close at hand. The door -was boarded up. Out of curiosity I propped an old cross against the -wall, climbed up, and peered into the vault. It was empty, but a window -with glass panes had been let into the centre of the floor, and under -these panes there gaped the black void of a subterranean chamber. - -While I was looking into this tomb and marvelling at the strange -situation of the window, Valek came running, panting and tired, to -the top of the hill. He was carrying a large loaf of Jewish bread in -his arms, something was sticking out from under his coat, and the -perspiration was streaming down his face. - -“Oh!” he cried at sight of me. “There you are! If Tiburtsi should find -you here, how angry he would be! But it’s too late to do anything now. -I know you’re all right and won’t tell any one where we live. Let’s go -in!” - -“Go in where? Is it far?” - -“You’ll see. Follow me.” - -He pushed aside the twigs of the honeysuckle and lilac bushes and -disappeared into the thicket beneath the chapel wall. I followed him, -and found myself on a small trampled patch of earth which had been -entirely concealed from me before by foliage. Between the stems of -the cherry trees I saw a fairly large opening from which a flight of -earthen steps led downward. Valek started down, bidding me follow him, -and in a few seconds we found ourselves in darkness underground. Valek -took my hand and led me through a narrow, damp passage, until, turning -sharply to the right, we emerged into a spacious crypt. - -I stopped at the entrance, amazed at this unexpected sight. Two beams -of light fell sharply from overhead, painting two luminous bands across -the darkness of the crypt. This light came from a couple of windows, -one of which I had seen in the floor of the vault, and another, which -lay beyond and which had evidently been constructed in the same way -as the first. The rays of the sun did not fall directly upon these -windows, but were reflected into them from the walls of the two old -vaults. This light was diffused in the grey air underground, and fell -upon the flag-stone floor, from which it was reflected once more, -filling the crypt with a dusky shimmer. The walls were also of stone, -and massive, thick columns, rising ponderously from the floor, spread -their stone arches in all directions and at last firmly clasped the -vaulted roof above. - -Two figures were sitting in a patch of light on the floor. The old -Professor, with bowed head and muttering something to himself, was -cobbling his rags together with a needle. He did not even look up as -we entered the crypt, and had it not been for the slight movement of -his hands, his grey figure might easily have been mistaken for some -grotesque piece of stone carving. - -Under the other window sat Marusia by a little heap of flowers, -sorting them over, as her custom was. A beam of light fell on her fair -curls, bathing her in radiance from head to foot, but in spite of this -she stood out a strange little misty speck against the grey stone -background, looking as if she might melt and vanish at any moment. -Whenever a cloud passed over the earth, dimming the sun’s brightness, -this background seemed to slip away and disappear, swallowed up in -darkness, but when the sun shone out anew, the cold, cruel stones stood -out once more, clasping each other above the tiny figure of the child -in an indissoluble embrace. I involuntarily remembered Valek’s saying -about the “grey stone” that was draining Marusia’s merriment away, and -a feeling of superstitious fear came stealing into my heart. I seemed -to be aware of an invisible but terrible stony stare directed at her, -rapacious and intent; I felt that the crypt was keenly eyeing its prey. - -“Valek!” lisped Marusia gaily, as she caught sight of her brother. When -she saw me with him a faint light shone in her eyes. - -I gave her the apples I had brought, and Valek, breaking the loaf -in two, gave her a piece and handed the rest to the Professor. That -unhappy man of learning accepted the gift indifferently, and began -munching without tearing himself away from his occupation. I shivered -and moved uneasily, stifled, as it were, by the oppressive “stare” of -those grey stones. - -“Come! Come away from here----” I insisted, plucking at Valek’s sleeve. -“Take her away!” - -“Come, Marusia, let’s go upstairs,” Valek called to his sister. - -And the three of us climbed up out of the crypt, but even out of doors -I felt a sense of restlessness and strain. Valek was sadder and more -silent than usual. - -“Did you stay in town to buy that bread?” I asked. - -“To buy it?” laughed Valek. “Where would I find the money?” - -“How did you get it then? Did you ask for it?” - -“Yes, that’s likely! Who would give it to me? No, brother, I nabbed it -from Sarah the Jewess’ bread-tray at the bazaar. She didn’t see me.” - -He said this in a matter-of-fact voice, sprawling on the grass with his -hands under his head. I raised myself on my elbow and stared at him. - -“So you stole it?” - -“Yes, I did.” - -I threw myself back on the grass and we lay for a minute in silence. - -“It’s wicked to steal!” I burst out, full of the saddest perplexity. - -“Our people were all away. Marusia was crying because she was hungry.” - -“Yes, I was hungry,” repeated the child with pitiful simplicity. - -I had not yet discovered what hunger was, but at the little one’s -last words my breast heaved and I stared at my friends as if I were -seeing them for the first time. Valek was lying on the grass as before, -pensively watching a soaring sparrow-hawk, but he now no longer looked -impressive. At the sight of Marusia holding her piece of bread in both -hands my heart absolutely stopped beating. - -“Why”--I asked with an effort--“Why didn’t you tell me this before?” - -“I wanted to tell you, and then I changed my mind. You have no money of -your own.” - -“Well, what difference does that make? I should have brought a loaf -from home.” - -“What, on the sly?” - -“Yes-es----” - -“Then you would have stolen it too.” - -“I--it would have been from my father.” - -“That’s worse!” said Valek decidedly. “I never rob my father.” - -“Well, then, I should have asked for it. He would have given it to me.” - -“Oh, he might have given it to you once--but how could he provide for -all the beggars in town?” - -“Are you--beggars?” I asked in a low voice. - -“Yes, we are beggars,” answered Valek bluntly and gruffly. - -I said nothing, and in a few minutes I rose to go. - -“Are you going away already?” asked Valek. - -“Yes.” - -I was going because I could not, that day, play tranquilly with my -friends as before. The pure, childish affection I had felt for them was -sullied. Although the love I bore Valek and Marusia was not diminished, -there was now mingled with it a sharp current of pity that turned it to -a burning heartache. On reaching home I went to bed early because I did -not know where to lay this new feeling of pain with which my whole soul -was burning. I buried my head under my pillow and wept bitterly until -kindly sleep at last came with her soft breath to blow away my grief. - - -VII - -TIBURTSI APPEARS ON THE SCENE - -“Good morning! I thought you weren’t coming back any more!” this was -Valek’s greeting to me when I appeared on the hill next day. - -I understood why he had said this. - -“No, I--I shall always come here,” I answered firmly, to put an end to -that question forever. - -Valek’s spirits rose perceptibly at this answer and we both felt more -at ease. - -“Well, and where are your people?” I asked. “Haven’t they come back -yet?” - -“Not yet. The Lord knows what has become of them.” - -We went gaily to work to manufacture a cunning sparrow trap for which -I had brought the string. This string we put into Marusia’s hand, and -whenever a thoughtless sparrow came hopping carelessly into the snare, -Marusia would pull the string, and the cover would slam down over the -bird, which we would afterwards release. - -Meanwhile, at noon, the sky had grown overcast. Dark clouds soon came -rolling up, and we could hear the storm roaring between merry claps of -thunder. I was very unwilling, at first, to go down into the crypt, -but remembering that Valek and Marusia lived there always I overcame -the unpleasant sensation, and went with them. All was dark and quiet -there, but we could hear the muffled din of the thunder overhead -rumbling exactly as if some one were driving an enormous wagon over -a monstrous bridge. I soon grew more accustomed to the crypt, and we -stood listening happily to the broad sheets of rain descending upon the -earth, while the roar and crash of the incessant thunder-claps keyed up -our nerves and woke in us an animation that demanded an outlet. - -“Come, let’s play blind-man’s buff!” I suggested. - -They tied a bandage over my eyes. Marusia’s pitiful little laughter -rang out as her languid feet stumbled across the stone floor, while I -ran in pursuit, until I suddenly found myself bending over a wet form, -and at the same moment felt some one seize my leg. A powerful arm -raised me off the floor and held me upside down in the air. The bandage -fell from my eyes. - -Tiburtsi, angry and wet and more terrible than ever from being seen -upside down, was holding me by the leg and wildly rolling his eyes. - -“What is this, hey?” he asked sternly, glaring at Valek. “So you are -passing the time gaily here! You have pleasant company, I see.” - -“Let me go!” I cried, surprised that I was able to speak at all in such -an unusual position, but Tiburtsi only held my leg the tighter. - -“_Responde!_ Answer!” he sternly commanded Valek, who was standing -under these difficult circumstances with two fingers thrust into his -mouth, as if to proclaim that he had absolutely nothing to say. - -I could see, though, that he was watching my unhappy person swinging -in space like a pendulum with sympathetic eyes and a great deal of -compassion. - -Tiburtsi raised me and looked into my face. - -“Aha, this is little master Judge unless my eyes deceive me! Why does -his honour favour us with a visit?” - -“Let me go!” I cried stubbornly. “Let me go at once!” - -And at this I instinctively made a movement as if I were stamping my -foot on the ground, but the only result was the quivering of my body in -mid-air. - -Tiburtsi roared with laughter. - -“Ha, ha, ha! My Lord the Judge is pleased to be annoyed! But come, you -don’t know me yet. _Ego Tiburtsi sum._ And I am going to hold you over -a fire, like this, and roast you like a little pig.” - -I began to think that this would inevitably be my fate, especially as -Valek’s despairing face seemed to foretell the possibility of such a -sad ending, but fortunately Marusia came to my rescue. - -“Don’t be frightened, Vasia! Don’t be frightened!” she admonished me, -going right up to Tiburtsi’s legs. “He never roasts little boys over a -fire. That isn’t true!” - -Tiburtsi turned me right side up with a swift movement, and set me on -my feet; at this I nearly fell down, for my head was swimming, but he -supported me with his hand and then, sitting down on a log, stood me -between his knees. - -“And how did you get here?” he asked. “Have you been coming here long? -You tell me!” he commanded, turning to Valek when he saw that I would -not answer. - -“A long time,” answered the boy. - -“How long?” - -“Six days.” - -This answer seemed to please Tiburtsi. - -“Aha, six days!” he said, turning me round so that I faced him. “Six -days is a long time. And have you babbled to any one yet where you have -been?” - -“No, not to any one.” - -“Is that true?” - -“Not to any one.” - -“_Bene_, that is excellent. The chances are that you will not -henceforth babble. I always did think you were a decent little fellow -from meeting you on the street. You’re a real little guttersnipe, even -if you are a judge. Have you come here to try us, eh?” - -He spoke kindly enough, but my feelings were deeply hurt, therefore I -answered crossly: - -“I’m not a judge. I’m Vasia.” - -“The one doesn’t interfere with the other, and Vasia can be a judge -too--not now, but later on. It’s an old story. For instance, I am -Tiburtsi, he is Valek; I am a beggar, he is a beggar. In fact, to speak -frankly, I steal and he will steal too. Your father tries me now; very -well then, some day you will try Valek. There you have it!” - -“I shan’t try Valek,” I answered gloomily. “That isn’t true.” - -“He won’t try Valek,” Marusia spoke up for me, confidently dismissing -such an atrocious supposition. - -The little girl nestled confidingly against the legs of this monster, -and he tenderly stroked her curls with his sinewy hand. - -“Don’t say that too soon,” said the strange fellow pensively, turning -to me and speaking as if I were a grown man. “Don’t say that, _amice_! -It’s an old story; every man to his own, _suum cuique_; every one must -go his own way, and who knows, perhaps it’s a good thing that your -path has crossed ours. It’s a good thing for you, _amice_, because -it’s a good thing to have a human heart in one’s breast and not a cold -stone--do you understand?” - -I understood nothing, but nevertheless I fixed my gaze on this queer -person’s face. Tiburtsi’s eyes were looking deeply into mine, and there -gleamed dimly in them something that seemed to pierce into my very soul. - -“Of course you don’t understand, because you are still a child. -Therefore let me tell you briefly that you may some day remember the -words of the philosopher Tiburtsi. If you ever find yourself sitting in -judgment upon that boy there, remember that even in the days when you -were both silly little lads playing together, you were travelling upon -the road where men walk well-clothed and well-fed, while he was running -along, a ragged sans-culotte with an empty belly. And besides, until -that happens, remember one thing well,” he added, sharply changing his -tone. “If you whisper one word of what you have seen here to that Judge -of yours, or even to a bird, as sure as my name is Tiburtsi Drab I’ll -hang you up by the heels in that fireplace and make roast ham of you. -You understand that, I hope?” - -“I won’t tell any one--I--may I come again?” - -“You may, I give you my permission--_sum conditionem_--but you’re -stupid yet and don’t understand Latin. I have already told you about -that ham--now remember!” - -He let me go, and stretched himself wearily on a bench by the wall. - -“Bring me that there,” he said to Valek, pointing to a large bag which -he had left on the threshold as he came in. “And light the fire. We’re -going to cook dinner to-day.” - -He was now no longer the same man who had frightened me a short while -ago by rolling his eyes, or the mountebank who was wont to amuse the -public for pennies. He had taken his place as a host at the head of his -family, and, like a man who has returned from his daily toil, he issued -commands to his household. - -He seemed very tired. His clothes were drenched with rain, his hair -was clinging to his brow, and his whole expression was one of utter -weariness. It was the first time I had seen that look on the face of -the jolly orator of the cafés, and this glimpse behind the scenes of -an actor resting after playing a difficult and exhausting rôle on the -stage of life, filled my heart with a feeling of pain and dread. It was -another of those revelations with which the old chapel had been so rife -for me. - -Valek and I went quickly to work. Valek lit a little torch, and -together we entered a dark passage adjoining the crypt. There, in a -corner, lay some logs of half-decayed wood, bits of crosses, and old -boards. We chose several pieces out of this store and, heaping them -up in the fireplace, kindled a little fire. Then I had to stand aside -while Valek with knowing hands went to work alone on the cooking. - -Half an hour later some kind of a brew was already stewing in a pot -over the fire, and while we were waiting for it to cook, Valek placed -upon a rough three-legged table a frying pan in which some pieces of -meat were steaming. - -Tiburtsi rose. - -“Is it ready?” he asked. “Well, that’s splendid. Sit down with us, -boy, you have earned your dinner. Domine!”--he next shouted to the -Professor. “Put down your needle and come to the table.” - -“In a minute,” answered the Professor in a low voice. Such a sensible -remark from him surprised me. - -But the spark of consciousness that Tiburtsi’s voice had awakened in -him did not reappear. The old man thrust his needle into his rags and -indifferently, with a dull look, took his seat on one of the logs that -served as chairs in the crypt. - -Tiburtsi held Marusia on his lap. She and Valek ate with an appetite -that showed what a rare luxury meat was for them; Marusia even -licked her greasy little fingers. Tiburtsi ate with frequent pauses, -and, evidently obeying an irresistible impulse to talk, turned -his conversation to the Professor. The poor man of letters grew -surprisingly attentive whenever he did this, and bowed his head to -listen, with a great air of intelligence as if he understood every -word. Sometimes he even signified his assent by nodding and making soft -little moans. - -“You see, Domine, how little a man needs,” Tiburtsi said. “Am I not -right? There! now our hunger is appeased, and all that now remains for -us to do is to thank God--and the Roman Catholic Priest.” - -“Aha, aha!” agreed the Professor. - -“You agree with me, Domine, but you don’t know what the Priest has to -do with it. I know you well. Nevertheless, if it weren’t for the Priest -we shouldn’t be eating fried meat and other things now.” - -“Did he give it to you?” I asked. - -“This youngster has an inquiring mind, Domine,” Tiburtsi continued. “Of -course his Reverence gave us this, although we did not ask him for it, -and although not only his left hand knew not what his right hand was -doing, but neither hand had the slightest knowledge of the transaction. -Eat, Domine!” - -All I could understand from this strange, confused discourse was, that -the method of obtaining our dinner had not been quite regular, and I -could not refrain from asking another question. - -“Did you--take this yourself?” - -“The boy is not devoid of shrewdness,” Tiburtsi continued. “It is only -a pity that he hasn’t seen the Priest. The Priest has a belly like a -forty-gallon cask, and it’s no doubt very dangerous for him to indulge -in greed. On the other hand all of us here suffer rather from an excess -of leanness than from corpulence, therefore a certain amount of food -does not come amiss. Am I right, Domine?” - -“Aha, aha!” pensively moaned the Professor again. - -“There, you see! You have expressed your meaning extremely successfully -this time. I was beginning to think that this youngster here had more -brains than some men of learning. However, to return to the Priest, I -always think that a good lesson is worth the price, and in this case -we can say that we bought these provisions from him. If he makes the -doors of his store-house a little stronger in future we shall be quits. -However,” he cried, suddenly turning to me, “you are stupid still and -there is much you don’t understand. But she, there, will understand. -Tell me, my Marusia, did I do right to bring you some meat?” - -“Yes!” answered the child, her sapphire eyes shining softly, “Manya was -hungry.” - -At twilight that evening I turned homeward with a reeling brain. -Tiburtsi’s strange sayings had not for a moment stilled the conviction -in my breast that it was “wicked to steal.” On the contrary, the -painful sensation that I had felt before had grown stronger than ever. -They were beggars, thieves, they had no home! From every one around me -I had long ago heard that contempt was always attached to such people. -I felt all the poignancy of contempt rising from the bottom of my soul, -but I instinctively shielded my affection from this bitter alloy, and -did not allow the two feelings to mingle. As a result of these dark -workings of my soul, my pity for Valek and Marusia grew greater and -more acute, but my affection did not diminish. The formula that “it -was wicked to steal” remained inviolate in my mind, but when I saw -in imagination my small friend licking her greasy little fingers I -rejoiced in her joy and in Valek’s. - -Next evening, in one of our dark garden paths, I unexpectedly met my -father. He was pacing up and down as usual, staring before him with his -accustomed strange, vacant look. When I appeared beside him he put his -hand on my shoulder. - -“Where have you been?” - -“I--I have been out walking.” - -He looked at me sharply and seemed to want to say something, but his -eyes soon grew abstracted again, and, with a motion of his hand, he -walked away down the path. Even in those days I seemed to understand -the meaning of that gesture. It said: - -“Ah, what does it matter? _She_ is not here!” - -I had lied almost for the first time in my life. - -I had always been afraid of my father, and I now feared him more than -ever. I was harbouring in my breast a whole world of vague questions -and sensations. Could he understand me? Could I confess anything to him -without betraying my friends? I trembled at the thought that in due -time he would hear of my acquaintance with that “bad company,” but, -betray Valek and Marusia--no, that I could never do! There was a reason -for my resolve: if I broke my word and betrayed them, I should never be -able to raise my eyes to their faces again for shame. - - -VIII - -AUTUMN - -Autumn was drawing near. In the fields the harvest was being reaped; -the leaves were turning yellow in the woods. With the approach of -autumn Marusia’s health began to fail. - -It was not that she complained of any pain, but she grew thinner every -day; her face grew paler, her eyes grew larger and darker, and it was -with difficulty that she could raise her drooping eyelids. - -I could climb the hill now without caring whether the “bad company” -was there or not. I had grown thoroughly accustomed to them, and felt -absolutely at home in their abode. - -“You’re a fine youngster, and you’ll be a great man some day,” Tiburtsi -predicted. - -The younger “suspicious persons” made me a bow and arrow out of elm -wood; the tall, red-nosed Grenadier twirled me in the air like a leaf -as he gave me gymnastic lessons. Only the Professor and Lavrovski -always seemed to remain unconscious of my presence. The Professor was -forever in the midst of some deep dream, while Lavrovski, when he was -sober, by nature avoided all human intercourse, and preferred to crouch -in a corner by himself. - -All these people lived apart from Tiburtsi who, with his “family,” -occupied the crypt I have already spoken of. They inhabited a crypt -which was similar to ours but larger, and which was divided from it -by two narrow halls. Here was less light and more dampness and gloom. -In places along the walls stood wooden benches and the blocks which -served as chairs. The benches were littered with heaps of rags, which -had converted them into beds. In the middle of the crypt, under a ray -of light, stood a joiner’s bench at which Tiburtsi and the others -sometimes worked. The “bad company” included a cobbler and a basket -maker, but all, with the exception of Tiburtsi, were either starvelings -or triflers; men, I noticed, whose hands trembled too much for them to -do any work successfully. The floor of this crypt was always strewn -with chips and shavings and dirt, and disorder reigned supreme, even -though Tiburtsi scolded the inmates furiously at times, and made one -of them sweep the floor and put the gloomy abode in order if ever so -little. I did not often visit them because I could not accustom myself -to the foul air, and because, too, the sombre Lavrovski dwelt there -when he was sober. He was generally either sitting on a bench with -his head in his hands, his long hair streaming, or pacing up and down -from corner to corner with swift strides. His whole person breathed an -atmosphere of such depression and gloom that my nerves could not endure -it. His fellow-unfortunates, however, had long since grown accustomed -to his eccentric ways. “General Turkevich” would sometimes set him to -work making fair copies of petitions and of quips and quirks which -he himself had written for the townsfolk, or else he would make him -write out the lampoons which he afterwards nailed to the lamp posts of -the city. Lavrovski would then quietly take his seat at a table in -Tiburtsi’s room, and for hours at a time would sit forming, one after -another, the beautiful, even letters of his exquisite handwriting. -Twice I chanced to see him carried down stupefied with drink from above -ground into the crypt. The unhappy man’s head was dangling and banging -from side to side, his legs were trundling helplessly after him and -bumping down the stone steps, his face wore a look of misery, and tears -were trickling down his cheeks. Marusia and I, clinging tightly to one -another, watched these scenes from a distant corner, but Valek mixed -quite nonchalantly with the men, supporting now a hand, now a foot, now -the head of the helpless Lavrovski. - -Everything about these people that had amused and interested me like -a Punch and Judy show when I saw it in the streets was revealed to me -here, behind the scenes, in all its ugly nakedness, and the sight of it -weighed heavily upon my childish spirits. - -Here Tiburtsi held undisputed sway. It was he who had discovered the -crypts, he who had taken possession of them, and all his band obeyed -him implicitly. That is probably the reason why I do not remember one -single occasion on which any one of those creatures, who had certainly -lost all the semblance of human beings, ever came to me with an evil -suggestion. - -Having gained in knowledge from a prosaic experience of life, I know -now that there must have been a certain amount of depravity, petty -vice, and rottenness among them, but to-day, when those people and -scenes rise in my memory wrapped in the mists of the past, I see before -me only tragedy, poverty, and the profoundest sadness. - -Oh, Childhood and Youth, what great fountainheads of idealism you are! - -And now Autumn began to come into its own. The sky was more frequently -overcast, the surrounding country sank into a misty crepuscule, -torrents of rain swept noisily across the earth, and their thunder -resounded monotonously and mournfully in the crypt. - -I found it very hard to steal away from home in this weather, for my -one desire was to get away unnoticed. When I came back drenched to -the skin, I would hang up my clothes before the fire myself, and slip -quietly into bed, there to endure philosophically the torrents of -scolding that would invariably flow from the lips of the servants and -my nurse. - -Every time I visited my friends I noticed that Marusia’s health was -failing more and more. She never went out into the fresh air now, -and the grey stone--that unseen, silent monster of the crypt--did -its dreadful work without interruption, sucking the life out of her -little body. The child spent most of her time in bed, and Valek and I -exhausted every means in our power to amuse and interest her and to -awaken the soft peals of her frail laughter. - -Now that I had really become one of the “bad company” the child’s sad -smile had grown almost as dear to me as my sister’s, but with Marusia -I was not constantly reminded of my wickedness; here was no scolding -nurse; on the contrary, I knew that each time I came my arrival -would call the colour into Marusia’s cheeks. Valek embraced me like -a brother, and even Tiburtsi would sometimes watch us three with a -strange expression on his face and something very like tears glistening -in his eyes. - -Then one day the sky grew clear again. The last clouds blew away, and -the sun shone out upon the earth for the last time before winter’s -coming. We carried Marusia up into the sunlight, and there she seemed -to revive. She gazed about her with wide eyes, and the colour came into -her cheeks. It seemed as if the wind that was blowing over her with its -cool, fresh breath were returning to her part of the life-blood stolen -by the grey stones of the crypt. But alas! this did not last long. - -And in the meanwhile clouds were beginning to gather over my head as -well. - -One morning as I was running down the garden path as usual I caught -sight of my father and old Yanush of the castle. The old man was -cringing and bowing and saying something to my father, and the latter -was standing before him, gloomy and stern, with a frown of impatient -anger between his eyes. At last my father stretched out his hand as if -to push Yanush aside, and said: - -“Go away! You are nothing but an old gossip!” - -The old man blinked and, holding his hat in his hand, ran forward again -and stood in my father’s path. My father’s eyes flashed with anger. -Yanush was speaking in a low voice, and I could not hear what he was -saying, but my father’s broken sentences fell upon my ears with the -utmost distinctness, like the blows of a whip. - -“I don’t believe a word of it--What do you want to persecute those -people for?--I won’t listen to verbal accusations, and a written one -you would be obliged to prove--Silence! that is my business--I won’t -listen to you, I tell you.” - -He finally pushed Yanush away so firmly that the latter did not dare to -intrude upon him any longer. My father turned aside into another path, -and I ran out through the gate. - -I very much disliked this old owl of the castle, and I trembled now -with a premonition of evil. I realised that the conversation I had -overheard related to my friends and perhaps, also, to me. - -When I told Tiburtsi what had happened he made a dreadful face. - -“Whew, young one, what bad news that is! Oh, that accursed old fox!” - -“My father drove him away,” I answered to console him. - -“Your father, young man, is the best judge there has been since the -days of Solomon, but do you know what _curriculum vitæ_ means? Of -course you don’t. But you know what the Record of Service is, don’t -you? Well, _curriculum vitæ_ is the Record of Service of a man who -is not employed in the County Court, and if that old screech-owl has -been able to ferret out anything and can show your father my record -why--well, I swear to the Queen of Heaven I wouldn’t care to fall into -the Judge’s clutches!” - -“He’s not a cruel man, is he?” I asked, remembering what Valek had told -me. - -“No, no, my boy, God forbid that you should think that of your father! -Your father has a good heart. Perhaps he already knows everything -that Yanush has been able to tell him, and still holds his tongue. He -doesn’t think it is necessary to pursue a toothless old lion into his -last lair. But how can I explain it to you, my boy? Your father works -for a gentleman whose name is Law. He has eyes and a heart only as long -as Law is nicely tucked up in bed, but when that gentleman gets up and -comes to your father and says: ‘Come on, Judge, sha’n’t we get on the -trail of Tiburtsi Drab or whatever his name is?’ from that moment the -Judge must lock up his heart, and his claws will become so sharp that -the earth will turn upside down before Tiburtsi will escape out of -his clutches. Do you understand, my boy? And that’s why I, why we all, -respect your father as we do, because he is a faithful servant of his -master, and such men are rare. If all Law’s servants were like him, -Law could sleep quietly in his bed and never wake up at all. My whole -trouble is that I had a quarrel with Law a long time ago--ah yes, my -boy, a very violent quarrel!” - -As he said this Tiburtsi got up, took Marusia’s hand, and, leading her -into a distant corner, began kissing her and pressing his rough head -to her tiny breast. I stood motionless where I was under the spell -of the impression created by the strange words of this strange man. -In spite of the fantastic and unintelligible twists and turns of his -speech I understood perfectly the substance of what Tiburtsi had said, -and my father’s image loomed more imposing than ever in my imagination, -invested with a halo of stern but lovable strength amounting almost to -grandeur. But at the same time another and a bitterer feeling which I -bore in my breast had increased in intensity. “That’s what he’s like!” -I thought. “And he doesn’t love me!” - - -IX - -THE DOLL - -The bright days soon passed, and Marusia began to grow worse again. She -now gazed indifferently with her large, fixed, darkening eyes at all -our cunning devices for her amusement, and it was long since we had -heard her laughter. I began to bring my playthings to the crypt, but -they only diverted her for a short time. I then decided to turn for -help to my sister Sonia. - -Sonia had a large doll with magnificent long hair and cheeks painted -a brilliant red, a present from our mother. I had the greatest faith -in the powers of this doll, and therefore, calling my sister into a -distant part of the garden one day, I asked her to lend it to me. I -begged so earnestly and described the little suffering girl who had no -toys of her own so vividly that Sonia, who at first had only clasped -the doll more tightly to her breast, handed it to me and promised to -play with her other toys for two or three days and to forget the doll -entirely. - -The effect produced on Marusia by this gaily dressed young lady with -the china face exceeded all my wildest hopes. The child, who had been -fading like a flower in Autumn, suddenly seemed to revive again. How -tightly she hugged me! How merrily she laughed as she chattered to -her new acquaintance! The doll almost worked a miracle. Marusia, who -had not left her bed for many days, began to toddle about, pulling her -fair-haired daughter after her, and even ran a few steps, dragging her -weak little feet across the floor as she had done in former days. - -At the same time the doll gave me many an anxious moment. In the first -place, on my way to the hill with my prize under my coat, I had met -Yanush on the road, and the old man had followed me for a long time -with his eyes, and shaken his head. Then, two days later, our old nurse -had noticed the disappearance of the doll, and had begun poking her -nose into every corner in search of it. Sonia tried to appease her, -but the child’s artless assurances that she didn’t want the doll, that -the doll had gone out for a walk and would soon come back, only served -to create doubts in the minds of the servants, and to awaken their -suspicions that this might not simply be a question of loss. My father -knew nothing as yet, and though Yanush, who came to him again one day, -was sent away even more angrily than before, my father stopped me that -morning on the way to the garden gate and ordered me not to leave home. -The same thing happened on the following day, and only on the fourth -did I get up early and slip away over the fence while my father was -still asleep. - -Things were still going badly on the hill. Marusia was in bed again and -was worse. Her face was strangely flushed, her fair curls were lying -disheveled on her pillow, and she recognised no one. Beside her lay the -disastrous doll with its pink cheeks and its stupid, staring eyes. - -I told Valek of the danger I was running, and we both decided that -undoubtedly I ought to take the doll home, especially as Marusia would -not notice its absence. But we were mistaken! No sooner did I take the -doll out of the arms of the unconscious child than she opened her eyes, -stared vaguely about as if she did not see me and did not know what was -happening to her, and then suddenly began to cry very, very softly, but -oh, so piteously, while an expression of such deep sorrow swept across -her features under the veil of her delirium that, panic-stricken, I -immediately laid the doll back in its former place. The child smiled, -drew the doll to her breast, and grew calm again. I realised that I had -tried to deprive my little friend of the first and last pleasure of her -short life. - -Valek looked shyly at me. - -“What shall we do now?” he asked sadly. - -Tiburtsi, who was sitting on a bench with his head sunk dejectedly on -his breast, also looked at me, with a question in his eyes. I therefore -tried to look as careless as possible, and said: - -“Never mind; nurse has probably forgotten all about it by now.” - -But the old woman had not forgotten. When I reached home that day I -again found Yanush at the garden gate. Sonia’s eyes were red with -weeping and our nurse threw me an angry, icy glance and muttered -something between her toothless gums. - -My father asked me where I had been, and having listened attentively to -my usual answer, confined himself to telling me not to leave the house -without his permission under any circumstances whatsoever. This command -was categorical and absolutely peremptory. I dared not disobey it, and -at the same time I could not make up my mind to ask my father for leave -to go to my friends. - -Four weary days passed. I spent my time roaming dejectedly about the -garden, gazing longingly in the direction of the hill, and waiting, -too, for the storm which I felt was gathering over my head. I had no -idea what the future might bring, but my heart was as heavy as lead. -No one had ever punished me in my life; my father had never so much as -laid a finger on me, and I had never heard a harsh word from his lips, -but I was suffering now from an oppressive sense of coming misfortune. - -At last my father summoned me to his study. I opened the door and -stopped timidly on the threshold. The melancholy autumn sun was shining -in through the windows. My father was sitting in an arm chair before a -portrait of my mother, and did not turn to look at me as I came in. I -could hear the anxious beating of my own heart. - -At last my father turned round; I raised my eyes and instantly dropped -them again. My father’s face looked terrible to me. Half a minute -passed, and I could feel his stern, fixed, withering gaze riveted upon -me. - -“Did you take your sister’s doll?” - -The words fell upon my ears so suddenly and sharply that I quivered. - -“Yes,” I answered in a low voice. - -“And do you know that that doll was a present from your mother, and -that you ought to have preserved it as something sacred? Did you steal -it?” - -“No,” I answered, raising my head. - -“How can you say no?” my father suddenly shouted. “You stole it and -took it away. Whom did you take it to? Speak!” - -He strode swiftly toward me, and laid a heavy hand upon my shoulder. -I raised my head with an effort, and looked up. My father’s face -was pale. The frown of pain which had lain between his brows since -my mother’s death was still there, but now his eyes were flashing -with sombre wrath. I shrank away. I seemed to see madness--or was it -hatred?--glaring at me out of those eyes. - -“Well, what did you do? Answer!” And the hand which was holding my -shoulder gripped it more tightly than before. - -“I--I won’t tell you,” I answered in a low voice. - -“Yes, you will tell me!” my father rapped out, and there was a threat -in his voice. - -“I won’t tell you,” I whispered lower still. - -“You will, you will!” - -He repeated these words in a muffled voice as if they had burst from -him with a painful effort. I felt his hand trembling, and even seemed -to hear the rage boiling in his breast. My head sank lower and lower, -and tears began to drip slowly out of my eyes upon the floor, but I -still kept repeating almost inaudibly: - -“No, I won’t tell; I’ll never, never tell.” - -It was my father’s son speaking in me. He could never have succeeded -in extorting an answer from me, no, not by the fiercest tortures. -There welled up in my breast in response to his threats the almost -unconscious feeling of injury that comes to an ill-used child, and a -sort of burning love for those whose betrayal my father was demanding. - -My father drew a deep breath. I shrank away still farther, and the -bitter tears scalded my cheeks. I waited. - -It would be hard for me to describe my sensations at that moment. I -knew that his breast was seething with rage, and that at any moment my -body might be struggling helplessly in his strong, delirious arms. -What would he do to me? Would he hurl me from him? Would he crush me? -But I did not seem to dread that now. I even loved the man in that -moment of fear, but, at the same time, I felt instinctively that he was -about to shatter this love with one mad effort, and that for ever and -ever after I should carry the same little flame of hatred in my heart -which I had seen gleaming in his eyes. - -I had lost all sense of fear. Instead, there had begun to throb in -my heart a feeling exasperating, bold, challenging; I seemed to be -waiting, and longing for the catastrophe to come at last. - -It would be better so--yes--better--better---- - -Once more my father sighed heavily. I was no longer looking at him. I -only heard his sighs, long, deep, and convulsive, and I know not to -this day whether he himself overcame the frenzy that possessed him or -whether it failed to find an outlet owing to an unexpected occurrence. -I only know that at that critical moment Tiburtsi suddenly shouted -under the open window in his harsh voice: - -“Hi, there, my poor little friend!” - -“Tiburtsi is here!” flashed through my mind, but his coming made no -other impression on me. I was all beside myself with suspense, and did -not even heed the trembling of my father’s hand upon my shoulder, or -realise that Tiburtsi’s appearance or any other external circumstance -could come between my father and myself, or could avert that which I -believed to be inevitable, and which I was awaiting with such a flood -of passionate anger. - -Meanwhile Tiburtsi had quickly opened the door of the room, and now -stood on the threshold embracing us both with his piercing, lynx-like -glance. I can remember to this day the smallest details of the scene. -For a moment a flash of cold, malevolent mockery gleamed in the -greenish eyes and passed over the wide, uncouth face of this gutter -orator, but it was only a flash. Then he shook his head, and there was -more of sorrow than of his accustomed irony in his voice as he said: - -“Oho, I see that my young friend is in an awkward situation.” - -My father received him with a gloomy, threatening look, but Tiburtsi -endured it calmly. He had grown serious now, and his mockery had -ceased. There was a striking look of sadness in his eyes. - -“My Lord Judge,” he said gently. “You are a just man; let the child go! -The boy has been ‘in bad company,’ but God knows he has done no bad -deeds, and if his little heart is drawn toward my unfortunate people, -I swear to the Queen of Heaven that you may hang me if you wish, but I -will not allow the boy to suffer for that. Here is your doll, my lad.” - -He untied a little bundle, and took out the doll. - -The hands that had been gripping my shoulder relaxed. My father looked -surprised. - -“What does this mean?” he asked at last. - -“Let the boy go!” Tiburtsi repeated, stroking my bowed head lovingly -with his broad palm. “You will get nothing out of him with your -threats, and besides, I will gladly tell you everything you want to -know. Come, Your Honour, let us go into another room.” - -My father consented, with his eyes fixed in surprise on Tiburtsi’s -face. They went out together, and I stayed rooted to the spot, -overwhelmed with the emotions with which my heart was bursting. At -that moment I was unconscious of what was going on around me, and if, -in calling to mind the details of this scene, I remember that sparrows -were twittering outside the window and that the rhythmic splash of -the water-wheel came to me from the river, why that is only the -mechanical action of my memory. Nothing external existed for me then; -there existed only a little boy in whose breast two separate emotions -were seething: anger and love; seething so fiercely that my heart was -troubled as a glass of water is dimmed when two different liquids -are poured into it at the same time. Such a little boy existed, and -that boy was I; I was even sorry, in a way, for myself. There existed -also two voices, that came to me from the next room in a confused but -animated conversation. - -I was still standing on the same spot when the study door opened, and -both talkers came into the room. Once more I felt a hand on my head, -and trembled. - -It was my father’s, and he was tenderly stroking my hair. - -Tiburtsi took my hands, and set me upon his knees right in my father’s -presence. - -“Come and see us,” he said. “Your father will let you come and say -good-bye to my little girl. She--she is dead.” - -Tiburtsi’s voice trembled, and he winked his eyes queerly, but he at -once rose quickly to his feet, set me down on the floor, pulled himself -together, and left the room. - -I raised my eyes inquiringly to my father’s face. Another man was -standing before me now, and there was something lovable about him -which I had sought in vain before. He was looking at me with his usual -pensive gaze, but there was a shade of surprise in his eyes, and what -might have been a question. The storm which had just passed over our -heads seemed to have dispelled the heavy mist that had lain on my -father’s soul and frozen the gentle, kind expression on his face. He -now seemed to recognise in me the familiar features of his own son. - -I took his hand trustfully, and said: - -“I didn’t steal it. Sonia lent it to me herself.” - -“Yes,” he answered thoughtfully. “I know; I am guilty before you, boy, -but you will try to forget it sometime, won’t you?” - -I seized his hand and kissed it. I knew that he would never again -look at me with the dreadful eyes which I had seen only a few moments -before, and my long pent-up love burst forth in a torrent. I did not -fear him now. - -“Will you let me go to the hill?” I suddenly asked, remembering -Tiburtsi’s invitation. - -“Ye-es--go, boy, and say good-bye,” he answered tenderly, but with -still the same shade of hesitation in his voice. “No, wait a minute; -wait a minute, boy, please.” - -He went into his bed-room and came back in a minute with a few bills -which he thrust into my hand. - -“Give these to Tiburtsi. Tell him that I beg him--do you -understand?--that I beg him to accept this money--from you. Do you -understand? And say, too,” added my father, “say that if he knows any -one called Feodorovich he had better tell that Feodorovich to leave -this town. And now run along boy, quickly.” - -Panting and incoherent, I overtook Tiburtsi on the hill and gave him my -father’s message. - -“My father begs you to----” I said, and pressed the money which I had -received into his hand. - -I did not look at his face. He took the money, and gloomily listened to -my message concerning Feodorovich. - -In the crypt, on a bench in a dark corner, I found Marusia lying. The -word death has little meaning for a child, but bitter tears choked me -at the sight of her lifeless body. My little friend was lying there -looking very serious and sad, and her tiny face was pitifully drawn. -Her closed eyes were a little sunken and the blue circles around them -were darker than before. Her little mouth was slightly open, and wore -an expression of childish grief. This little grimace was Marusia’s -answer to our tears. - -The Professor was standing at her bedside, indifferently shaking his -head. The Grenadier was hammering in a corner, making a coffin out of -some old boards torn from the chapel roof. Lavrovski, sober and with a -look of perfect understanding, was strewing Marusia’s body with autumn -flowers which he himself had gathered. Valek was lying asleep in a -corner, shuddering all over in his dreams, and crying out restlessly -from time to time. - - -X - -CONCLUSION - -Soon after this the members of the “bad company” dispersed to the -four corners of the earth. There remained behind only the Professor, -who until his death continued to haunt the streets of the town, and -Turkevich, to whom my father would give a little writing to do from -time to time. For my part, I lost not a little blood in combats with -the Jewish boys who tormented the Professor by reminding him of sharp -and pointed instruments. - -The Grenadier and the other suspicious characters went elsewhere -to seek their fortunes. Tiburtsi and Valek suddenly and completely -vanished, and no one could say whither they had gone, as no one knew -whence they had come. - -The old chapel has suffered much since then from the onslaughts of -Time. First the roof fell in, breaking down the ceiling of the crypt. -Then landslides began to form around the building, and the place grew -more dismal than ever. The owls now hoot more loudly than before among -its ruins, and the will-o’-the-wisps on the graves still glow with a -malign blue fire on dark autumn nights. - -One grave only, surrounded by a little fence, grows green with fresh -grass every spring, and lies bedecked with brilliant flowers. - -Sonia and I used often to visit this little grave, and sometimes our -father would go with us. We liked to sit there in the shade of the -whispering birch trees, with the town below us shimmering placidly in -the sunlight. Here my sister and I read and dreamed together, sharing -our first young thoughts and our first premonitions of upright, winged -youth. - -And when at last the time came for us to leave the quiet city of our -birth, it was here, over this little grave, in the Springtime of life -and hope, that we made our last compacts with one another on the last -day that we spent at home. - - - - -THE DAY OF ATONEMENT - - - - -THE DAY OF ATONEMENT - -A TALE OF LITTLE RUSSIA[I] - - The lights are out, the moon is rising. - The were-wolf in the wood is feeding. - - --Shevchenko. - - -I - -Listen to me, man; go out of your khata on a clear night, or better -still walk to the top of some little hill, and look well at the sky and -the earth. Watch the bright moon climbing the heavens, and the stars -winking and twinkling, and the light clouds of mist rising from the -earth and wandering off somewhere one behind the other like belated -travellers on a night journey. The woods will lie as if bewitched, -listening to the spells that rise from them after the midnight hour, -and the sleepy river will flow murmuring by you, whispering to the -sycamores on its banks. Then tell me after that if anything, if any -miracle, is not possible in this khata of God’s which we call the wide -world. - -Everything is possible. Take, for instance, an adventure that happened -to a friend of mine, the miller from Novokamensk. If no one has told -you the story already, I will tell it to you now, only please don’t -make me swear that every word is true. I won’t swear to a thing, for -though I got it from the miller himself, I don’t know to this day -whether it really happened to him or not. - -But whether it’s true or not, I shall tell it to you as I heard it. - -One evening the miller was returning from vespers in Novokamensk, which -was about three versts, not more, from his mill. For some reason the -miller was a little out of temper, though he himself could not have -said why. Everything had gone well in the church, and our miller, who -could shout with the best, had read the prayers so loudly and so fast -that the good people had been astonished. - -“How he does bawl, that son of a gun!” they had exclaimed with the -deepest respect. “You can’t understand one word he says. He’s a regular -wheel, he is; he turns and spins and you know he has spokes in him, but -you can’t see a single one, no matter how closely you look. His reading -sounds like an iron wheel rumbling over a stony road; you can’t catch a -word of it to save your life.” - -The miller heard what the people were saying among themselves, and it -made him glad. _He_ knew how to work for the glory of God, he did! He -swung his tongue as a lusty lad swings a flail on a threshing floor, -till he was parched to the bottom of his throat and his eyes were -popping out of his head. - -The priest took him home with him after church, gave him tea, and -set a full bottle of herb brandy before him, and this was afterwards -taken away empty. The moon was floating high above the fields, and was -staring down into the swift little Stony River when the miller left the -priest’s house and started home to his mill. - -Some of the villagers were already asleep; some were sitting in their -khatas eating their suppers by the light of a tallow-dip, and some -had been tempted out into the street by the warm, clear autumn night. -The old people were sitting at the doors of their khatas, but the -lasses and lads had gone out under the hedges where the heavy shade of -the cherry trees hid them from view, and only their low voices could -be heard in various places, with an occasional peal of suppressed -laughter, and now and then the incautious kiss of a young couple. Yes, -many things can happen in the dense shade of a cherry tree on such a -clear, warm night! - -But though the miller could not see the villagers, they could see him -very well because he was walking down the middle of the street in the -full light of the moon. And so they occasionally called out to him as -he passed: - -“Good evening, Mr. Miller! Aren’t you coming from the priest’s? Is it -at his house you have been such a long time?” - -Every one knew that he could not have been anywhere else, but the -miller liked the question, and, slackening his pace, he would answer a -little proudly each time: - -“Yes, yes, I’ve made him a little visit!” and then he would walk on -more puffed-up than ever. - -On the other hand, some of the people sat as silent as mice under the -eaves of their houses, and only hoped he would go by quickly and not -see where they were hidden. But the miller was not the man to pass or -forget people who owed him for flour or for grinding, or who simply had -borrowed money from him. No use for them to sit out of sight in the -dark, as silent as if they had taken a mouthful of water! The miller -would stop in front of them every time and say: - -“Good evening! Are you there? You can hold your tongues or not as you -like, but get ready to pay me your debts, because your time will be up -early to-morrow morning. And I won’t wait for the money, I promise you!” - -And then he would walk on down the street with his shadow running -beside him, so black, so very black, that the miller, who was a -bookman and always ready to use his brain if need be, said to himself: - -“Goodness, how black my shadow is! It really is strange. When a man’s -overcoat is whiter than flour why should his shadow be blacker than -soot?” - -At this point in his reflections he reached the inn kept by Yankel the -Jew, which stood on a little hill not far from the village. The Sabbath -had been over since sunset, but the inn-keeper was not at home; only -Kharko was there, the Jew’s servant, who took his place on Sabbaths -and feast-days. Kharko lit his master’s candles for him and collected -his debts on each Hebrew holiday, for the Jews, as every one knows, -strictly observe the rules of their faith. Do you think a Jew would -light a candle or touch money on a holiday? Not he! It would be a sin. -Kharko the servant did all that for the inn-keeper, and he, his wife, -and his children, only followed him sharply with their eyes to see that -no stray five or ten copeck pieces wandered into his pocket by accident -instead of into the till. - -“They’re cunning people!” thought the miller to himself. “Oh, they’re -very cunning! They know how to please their God and catch every penny -at the same time. Yes, they’re clever people, far cleverer than we are, -there’s no use denying it!” - -He paused on the little patch of earth at the inn door trampled hard by -the numberless human feet that jostled each other there every week day -and shouted: - -“Yankel! Hey, Yankel! Are you at home or not?” - -“He isn’t at home, can’t you see that?” answered the servant from -behind the counter. - -“Where is he, then?” - -“Where should he be? In the city of course,” answered the servant. -“Don’t you know what to-day is?” - -“No, what is it?” - -“Yom Kippur, the Day of Atonement!” - -“Ah, so that’s the explanation!” thought the miller. - -And I must tell you that even though Kharko was a common servant and -the servant of a Jew at that, he had been a soldier, and could write, -and was a very proud person. He liked to turn up his nose and give -himself airs, especially before the miller. He could read in church -no worse than the miller himself, except that he had a cracked voice -and talked through his nose. In reading the prayers he always managed -to keep up with Philip the miller, but in reading the Acts he was -left far behind. But he never yielded an inch. If the miller said one -thing, he always said another. If the miller said “I don’t know,” the -servant would answer “I do.” A disagreeable fellow he was! So now he -was delighted because he had said something that had made the miller -scratch his head under his hat. - -“Perhaps you don’t know even yet what day this is?” - -“How can I keep track of every Jewish holiday? Am I a servant of Jews?” -retorted the miller angrily. - -“Every holiday, indeed! That’s just it; this isn’t like every holiday. -They only have one like this every year. And let me tell you something: -no other people in the whole world have a holiday like this one.” - -“You don’t say so!” - -“You’ve heard about Khapun, I suppose?” - -“Aha!” - -The miller only whistled. Of course, he might have guessed it! And he -peeped in through the window of the Jewish khata. The floor was strewn -with hay and straw; in two and three branched candlesticks slender -tallow candles were burning; he could hear a humming that seemed to -come from several huge, lusty bees. It was Yankel’s young second Wife -and a few Jewish children mumbling and humming their unintelligible -prayers with closed eyes. There was, however, something remarkable -about these prayers; it seemed as if each one of these Jews were -possessed by some alien creature, sitting there in him weeping and -lamenting, remembering something and praying for something. But to whom -were they praying, and for what were they asking? No one could have -said. Only whatever it was, it seemed to have no connection either -with the inn or with money. - -The miller was filled with pity and sadness and dread as he listened to -the prayers of the Jews. He glanced at the servant, who could also hear -the humming through the door of the inn, and said: - -“They’re praying! And so you say Yankel has gone to the city?” - -“Yes.” - -“And what did he want to do that for? Supposing Khapun should happen to -get him?” - -“I don’t know why he went,” answered the servant. “If it had been me, -though I’ve fought with every heathen tribe under the sun and got a -medal for it, no silver roubles on earth could have tempted me away -from here. I should have stayed in my khata; Khapun would hardly snatch -him out of his hut.” - -“And why not? If he wanted to catch a man he’d get him in his khata as -well as anywhere else, I suppose.” - -“You think he would, do you? If you wanted to buy a hat or a pair of -gloves, where would you go for them?” - -“Where should I go but to a store?” - -“And why would you go to a store?” - -“What a question! Because there are plenty of hats there.” - -“Very well. And if you looked into the synagogue now you would see -Jews a-plenty in there. They are jostling one another, and weeping and -screaming so that the whole city from one end to another can hear their -lamentations. Where the gnats are there the birds go. Khapun would be -a fool if he trotted about hunting and rummaging through all the woods -and villages. He has only one day in the year, and do you think he -would waste it like that? Some villages have Jews in them, and some -haven’t.” - -“Well, there aren’t many that haven’t!” - -“I know there aren’t many that haven’t, but there are some. And then, -he can pick and choose so much better out of a crowd.” - -Both men were silent. The miller was thinking that the servant -had caught him again with his clever tongue, and he was feeling -uncomfortable for the second time. The humming and weeping and -lamenting of the Jews still came to them through the windows of the hut. - -“Perhaps they are praying for the old man?” - -“Perhaps they are. Anything is possible.” - -“Does it really ever happen?” asked the miller, wishing to tease the -servant, and at the same time feeling a twinge of human pity for the -Jew. “Perhaps it’s only gossip. You know how people will gabble silly -nonsense, and how every one believes them.” - -These words displeased Kharko. - -“Yes, people do gabble nonsense; like you, for instance!” he answered. -“Do you think I invented the story myself, or my father or my -father-in-law, when every Christian knows it is true?” - -“Well, but have you seen it happen yourself?” asked the miller -irritably, stung by the servant’s scornful words. - -Now you must know that when the miller was in a passion he sometimes -said that he didn’t believe in the Devil himself, and wouldn’t, until -he saw him sitting in the palm of his hand. And he was flying into a -passion now. - -“Have you seen it happen yourself?” he repeated. “If you haven’t, don’t -say it’s true, do you hear?” - -Then the servant hung his head, and even went so far as to cough. -Though he had been a soldier and was a lively fellow, he could sing -very small at times. - -“No, I haven’t seen it myself, I won’t tell you a lie. And you, Mr. -Miller, have you ever seen the city of Kiev?” - -“No, I haven’t: I won’t tell you a lie, either.” - -“But Kiev is there just the same!” - -When he heard it put as clearly as that, the miller’s eyes nearly -popped out of his head. - -“Whatever is true, is true,” he assented. “Yes, Kiev is there, though I -haven’t seen it. One certainly ought to believe what honest folks say. -You see, I should like to--I want to ask you who told you the story?” - -“Who told it to me? Bah! Who told you about Kiev?” - -“Tut, tut, what a tongue you have! It’s sharper than a razor; may it -shrivel in your head!” - -“There’s no reason why my tongue should shrivel in my head. You’d -better believe what people say when every one says it. If every one -says it, it must be true. If it weren’t true, every one wouldn’t say -it; only magpies like you would say it, so there!” - -“Tut, tut, tut! For Heaven’s sake stop a minute! You rattle out your -words like a pestle in a mortar. I see I was on the wrong track, but I -only wanted to know how the story began.” - -“It began because it happens every year. Whatever happens people will -talk about; what doesn’t happen isn’t worth talking about.” - -“What a fellow you are! Wait a minute, let me catch your prattle by -the tail; you whirl like a wild mare in a bog. Only just tell me what -really takes place, that’s all!” - -“Eh hey, so you don’t know, I see, what takes place on the Day of -Atonement?” - -“I used to know, and that’s why I didn’t ask. I used to hear people -chattering like you about Khapun, Khapun, but what the sense of it was -I never could make out.” - -“Then you ought to have said so at once, and I should have told you -long ago. I don’t like proud people who, when they want a drink of -gorelka, say they’d drink water if it didn’t taste so bad. If you want -to know what happens I’ll tell you, because I’ve been about the world -and am not a stay-at-home like you. I have lived in the city for more -than a year, and this is the first time I have ever worked for a Jew.” - -“And isn’t it a sin to work for a Jew?” asked the miller. - -“It would be for any one else; a soldier can do anything. We get a -paper given to us that says so.” - -“Can a piece of paper really----” - -Then the soldier began telling the miller very affably all about Khapun -and how he carries off one Jew a year on this day. - -And if you don’t know it, I might as well tell you that Khapun is -a regular Hebrew devil. He is just like ours in every way, black, -with horns just like him, and he has wings like a huge bat; the only -difference is that he wears ringlets and a skull cap, and only has -power over Jews. If a Christian meets him at midnight in the desert, -or even on the shore of a pond, he runs away like a scared dog. But he -can do what he likes with the Jews, so he catches one every year and -carries him away. - -And Yom Kippur, the Day of Atonement, is the day fixed for him to make -his choice. Long before that day comes the Jews weep and tear their -clothes, and even put ashes out of their stoves on their heads for some -reason or other. On the evening of the day they bathe in the rivers -and ponds, and as soon as the sun goes down the poor wretches all go -to their churches, and you never heard in your life such screams as -come from there then! They all bawl at the top of their lungs, keeping -their eyes shut tight with terror all the time. Then, as soon as the -sky grows dark and the evening star comes out, Khapun comes flying from -where he lives, and hovers over the church. He beats on the windows -with his wings, and looks in to choose his prey. But when midnight -comes, that’s when the Jews begin to get really frightened. They light -all the candles to give themselves courage, fall down on the floor, and -begin to scream as if some one were cutting their throats. And while -they are lying there squirming Khapun flies into the room in the shape -of a great crow, and they all feel the cold wind of his wings blowing -across their hearts. The Jew whom Khapun has already spotted through -the window feels the devil’s claws sinking into his back. Ugh! It makes -one’s flesh creep even to tell of it, so just think what the poor Jew -must feel! Of course he yells as loud as ever he can. But who can hear -him when all the rest of them are yelling like lunatics, too? And maybe -one of his neighbours does hear him, and is only glad it isn’t himself -who is in such a sorry plight. - -Kharko himself had heard more than once the pitiful, clear, long-drawn -notes of a trumpet floating out over the city. It was a novice in -the synagogue trumpeting out a farewell call to his unfortunate -brother, while the rest of the Jews were putting on their shoes in the -entry--Jews always go into church in their stocking feet--or standing -in little groups in the moonlight, whispering together on tip-toe, -staring up at the sky. And when the last man has gone, one lonely pair -of shoes is left lying in the entry, waiting for its owner. Ah, those -shoes will have to wait a long time, for at that very moment Khapun is -flying with their owner high over woods and fields, over valleys and -hills and plains, flapping his wings, and keeping well out of sight -of Christian eyes. The accursed one is glad when the night is cloudy -and dark. But when it is clear and still like to-night, with the moon -shining as bright as day, the devil’s work may very well come to naught. - -“And why?” asked the miller, trembling lest the talkative Kharko should -begin poking insults at him again. But this time the servant answered -quietly enough: - -“Well, you see, any Christian, no matter if he’s stupid, like you, can -call to the devil: ‘Drop it! It is mine!’ and Khapun will drop the Jew -at once. The devil will flutter his wings, and fly away with a shrill -cry like a wounded hawk, to be left without prey for a year. The Jew -will fall to the ground. It will be lucky for him if he wasn’t too high -up and if he falls into a bog or some other soft spot. If he doesn’t, -no one will profit by his fall, neither he nor the devil.” - -“So that’s how it is!” said the miller, staring nervously at the sky, -in which the moon was shining with all its might. The heavens were -clear; only one little cloudlet like a bit of black down was flying -swiftly along between the moon and the wood that shrouded the river -bank. It was a cloud, of course, but one thing about it seemed strange -to the miller. Not a breath of wind was stirring, the leaves on the -bushes were motionless as if in a trance, and yet the cloud was flying -like a bird straight toward the city. - -“Come here; let me show you something!” the miller called to the -servant. - -Kharko came out of the inn, and leaning against the door post, said -calmly: - -“Well, what is it? A fine thing you have found to show me! That’s a -cloud, that is; let it alone!” - -“Take another look at it! Is there any wind blowing?” - -“Well, well, well! That _is_ funny!” said the servant, perplexed. “It’s -making straight for the city, too.” - -And both men scratched their heads and craned their necks. - -The same humming sounds came to their ears through the window as -before; the miller caught a glimpse of lugubrious yellow faces, closed -eyes, and motionless lips. The little Jews were crying and wriggling, -and once more the miller seemed to see an alien presence in them -weeping and praying for something unknown, long lost, and already half -forgotten. - -“Well, I must be going home,” said the miller, collecting his wits. -“And yet I wanted to pay Yankel a few copecks.” - -“That’s all right. I can take them for him,” said the servant, without -looking at the miller. - -But the miller pretended not to have heard this last remark. The sum -was not so small that he cared to intrust it to a servant, much less -to a vagabond soldier. With a sum like that the fellow might easily -kick up his heels, as the saying is, and run away, not only out of the -village, but even out of the District. If he did that, look for the -wind in the fields, you would find it sooner than Kharko! - -“Good night!” said the miller at last. - -“Good night! And I’ll take the money if you’ll give it to me!” - -“Don’t bother; I can give it to him myself.” - -“Do as you like. But if I took it you wouldn’t be bothered about it -any more. Well, well, it’s time to close the inn. You’re the last dog -that’ll be round to-night, I’ll be bound.” - -The servant scratched his back on the door post, whistled not very -agreeably after the miller, and bolted the door on which were depicted -in white paint a quart measure, a wine-glass, and a tin mug. Meanwhile -the miller descended the hill, and walked down the road in his long -white overcoat, with his coal-black shadow running beside him as before. - -But the miller was not thinking of his shadow now. His thoughts were of -something far different. - - -II - -The miller had not gone more than a hundred yards when he heard a -rustling and fluttering that sounded like two large birds taking flight -from behind the hedge. But it was not a pair of birds; it was only a -lad and a lass, startled by the miller’s sudden appearance out of the -darkness. The lad, it seemed, was not to be frightened. Creeping into -the shadows so that the two white figures were barely visible under the -cherry trees, he put his arm firmly around the girl, and continued his -low-toned discourse. A few yards farther on the miller heard something -that halted him with annoyance. - -“Hey, you there! I don’t know what your name is----” he cried. “But you -might wait until I had gone by to do your kissing. Your smacks can be -heard all over the village.” - -And he walked right up to the hedge. - -“You cur you, what do you mean by poking your nose into other people’s -affairs?” a lad answered out of the darkness. “Wait a minute, I’ll -kiss you on the nose with my fist! I’ll teach you to interfere with -people!” - -“Come, come, never mind!” said the miller, stepping back. “One would -think you were doing something important! You’re a bad lad, you are, -to smack a girl like that; you make a man envious. Oh, what are people -coming to!” - -He stood still for a moment, thought a bit, scratched his head, and -finally turned aside, threw his leg over the hedge, and crossed a field -to a widow’s cottage that stood a little way back from the road in the -shade of a tall poplar tree. - -The khata was a tiny, lop-sided affair, crumbling and falling to -pieces. Its one little window was so minute that it would have been -almost invisible had the night been at all dark. But now the whole -cottage was glowing in the moonlight; its straw roof was shining like -gold, its walls seemed to be made of silver, and the little window was -blinking like a dark eye. - -No light shone behind it. Probably the old woman and her daughter had -no fuel and nothing to cook for supper. - -The miller paused a moment, then knocked twice at the window and went a -few steps aside. - -He had not long to wait before two plump girlish arms were wound -tightly around his neck, and something glowed among his whiskers that -felt very much like two lips pressed to his mouth. Hey ho, what more -is there to tell! If you have ever been kissed like that you know -yourself how it feels. If you haven’t, it’s no use trying to tell you. - -“Oh, Philipko, my darling for whom I have longed!” crooned the girl. -“You have come, you have come! And I have been waiting so wearily for -you. I thought I should parch up with longing, like grass without -water.” - -“Eh hey, she hasn’t parched up, though, thank God!” thought the miller, -as he pressed the girl’s not emaciated form to his breast. “Thank God, -she is all right yet!” - -“And when shall we have the wedding, Philip?” asked the girl with her -hands still lying on Philip’s shoulders, while she devoured him with -burning eyes as dark as an autumn night. “Saint Philip’s day will soon -be here.” - -This speech was less to the miller’s liking than the girl’s kisses. - -“So that’s what she’s driving at!” thought he. “Ah, Philip, Philip, now -you’re going to catch it!” - -But he summoned all the courage he had, and, turning his eyes away, -answered: - -“What a hurry you’re in, Galya, I declare! Thinking about the wedding -already, are you? How can we get married when I am a miller and may -soon be the richest man in the village, and you are only a poor widow’s -daughter?” - -The girl staggered back at these words as if a snake had bitten her. -She jumped away from Philip and laid her hand on her heart. - -“But I thought--oh, my poor head--then why did you knock at the window, -you wicked man?” - -“Eh hey!” answered the miller. “You ask why I knocked. Why shouldn’t -I knock when your mother owes me money? And then you come jumping out -and begin to kiss me. What can I do? I know how to kiss as well as any -man----” - -And he stretched out his hand toward her again, but the moment he -touched the girl’s body she started as if an insect had stung her. - -“Get away!” she screamed, so angrily that the miller fell back a step. -“I’m not a rouble bill that you can lay your hands on as if I belonged -to you. If you come back again I’ll warm you up so that you’ll forget -how to make love for three years.” - -The miller was taken aback. - -“What a little firebrand it is! Do you think I’m a Jew that you howl at -me so hatefully?” - -“If you’re not a Jew, then what are you? You charge half a rouble for -every rouble you lend, and then you come to me for interest besides! -Get away, I tell you, you horrid brute!” - -“Well, my girl!” said the miller, nervously covering his face with his -hand as if she had really hit him with her fist. “I see it’s no use for -a sensible man to talk to you. Go and send your mother to me.” - -But the old woman had already come out of the hut, and was making a low -curtsey to the miller. Philip enjoyed this more than he had the words -of the girl. He stuck his arms akimbo, and the head of his black shadow -rubbed so hard against the wall that he wondered his hat didn’t come -off. - -“Do you know what I’ve come for, old woman?” he asked. - -“Oh, how should I not know, poor wretch that I am! You have come for my -money.” - -“Ha, ha, not _your_ money, old woman!” the miller laughed. “I’m not a -robber; I don’t come at night and take money that isn’t mine.” - -“Yes, you _have_ come for money that isn’t yours!” retorted Galya, -angrily falling upon the miller. “You _have_ come for it!” - -“Crazy girl!” exclaimed the miller, stepping back. “Upon my word there -isn’t another girl in the whole village as crazy as you are. And not in -the village alone, in the whole District. Just think a minute what you -have said! If it weren’t for your mother, who probably wouldn’t testify -against you, I’d have you up in court before Christmas for cheating me. -Come, think a little what you’re doing, girl!” - -“Why need I think when I’m doing right?” - -“How can it be right for the old woman to borrow money from me and not -pay?” - -“You lie! You lie like a dog! You came courting me when you were still -a workman at the mill; you came to our khata and never said a word -about wanting anything in return. And then, when your uncle died and -you came to be a miller yourself, you collected the whole debt, and now -even that won’t satisfy you!” - -“And the flour?” - -“Well, what about the flour? How much do you ask for it?” - -“Sixty copecks a pood, not less! No one would let you have it cheaper -than that, no, not if you threw your precious self in with it into the -bargain.” - -“And how much have you already collected from us?” - -“Tut, tut, how she does talk! You’ve a tongue in your head as bad as -Kharko’s, girl. I’ll answer that by asking you for the interest. Have -you paid it?” - -But Galya was silent. It is often that way with girls. They talk and -talk and rattle along like a mill with all its stones grinding, and -then they suddenly stop dead. You’d think they had run short of water. -That’s how Galya did. She burst into a flood of bitter tears, and went -away wiping her eyes on the wide sleeve of her blouse. - -“There now!” said the miller, a little confused but satisfied in his -heart. “That’s what comes of attacking people. If you hadn’t begun -shouting at me there wouldn’t have been anything to cry for.” - -“Hold your tongue! Hold your tongue, you foul creature!” - -“Hold your own tongue, if that’s what you think!” - -“Be quiet, be quiet, my honey!” the mother joined in, heaving a deep -sigh. The old woman was evidently afraid of irritating the miller; it -was clear she could not pay him now that her time was up. - -“I won’t be quiet, mother, I won’t, I won’t!” answered the girl, as if -all the wheels in her mill had begun turning again. “I won’t be quiet; -and if you want to know, I’m going to scratch out his eyes so that he -won’t dare to get me gossiped about for nothing, and come knocking at -my window and kissing me! Tell me what you meant by knocking, or I’ll -catch you by the top-knot without stopping to ask if you are a miller -and a rich man or not. You never used to be proud like that; you came -courting me yourself and pouring out tender words. But now you hold -your nose so high that your hat won’t stay on your head!” - -“Oi, honey, honey, do be quiet, my poor dear little orphan!” begged the -old woman with another grievous sigh. “And you, Mr. Miller, don’t think -ill of the poor silly girl. Young hearts and young wisdom are mates; -they are like new beer in a ferment. They boil and foam, but if you -will let them stand awhile they will grow sweet to a man’s taste.” - -“What do I care?” answered the miller. “I don’t ask for either bitter -or sweet from her, because you are not my equals, either of you. Give -me the money, old woman, and I’ll never come near your khata again.” - -“Okh, but we have no money! Wait a little; we will work for some, my -daughter and I, and then we will pay you. Oh, misery me, Philipko, -dearie, what a time I do have with you and with her! You know yourself -I have loved you like a son; I never thought, I never guessed, you -would cast my debts in my teeth and with the interest, too! Oh, if I -could only get my daughter married! A good husband would be easy to -find, but she won’t have any one. Ever since you have come courting the -girl you seem to have cast a spell over her. ‘I’d rather be buried in -the cold ground than marry any one else,’ she says. I was foolish ever -to let you stay here until dawn. Oi, misery me!” - -“But what can I do?” asked the miller. “You don’t understand these -things, old woman. A rich man has many calls on his money. I pay the -Jew what I owe him; now you must pay me.” - -“Wait just one month!” - -The miller rubbed his head and reflected. He felt a little sorry for -the old woman, and Galya’s embroidered blouse was gleaming in the -distance. - -“Very well, then, only I’ll have to add thirty copecks to the debt for -interest. You’d better pay at once.” - -“What can I do? It’s my fate not to pay, I can see that.” - -“All right, I’ll leave it at that. I’m not a Jew. I’m a decent sort of -a fellow. Any one else would have charged you forty copecks at least, I -know that for certain, and I’m only asking you twenty, and shall wait -till St. Philip’s day for the money. But then you will have to look -out. If you don’t pay, I’ll complain about you to the police.” - -With these words he turned, bowed, and walked away across the pasture, -without so much as a glance at the hut at whose door there shone for a -long time a white embroidered blouse. It shone against the dark shade -of the cherry trees like a little white star, and the miller could not -see the black eyes weeping, the white arms stretched out toward him, -the young breast sighing for his sake. - -“Don’t cry, my honey; don’t cry, my sugar-plum!” the old woman soothed -her child. “Don’t cry, it’s God’s will, my darling.” - -“Okh, mother, mother, if only you had let me scratch out his eyes, -perhaps I should feel better!” - - -III - -After that adventure the miller’s thoughts became gloomier than ever. - -“Somehow nothing ever goes right in this world,” he said to himself. -“Unpleasant things are always happening, a man never knows why. For -instance, that girl there drove me away. She called me a Jew. If I -were a Jew and had as much money as I have and a business like mine, -would I live as I do? Of course not! Look what my life is! I work in -the mill myself; I don’t half sleep by night; I don’t half eat by day; -I keep my eye on the water to see it doesn’t run out; I keep my eye on -the stones to see they don’t come loose; I keep my eye on the shafts -and the pinions and the cogs to see they run smoothly and don’t miss -a stroke. Yes, and I keep my eye on that infernal workman of mine. -How can one depend on a servant? If I turn my back for an instant the -scoundrel runs off after the girls. Yes, a miller’s life is a dog’s -life, it is! Of course, though, ever since my uncle--God rest his -soul--fell into the mill-pond drunk, and the mill came to me, the money -has been collecting in my pockets. But what’s the result? Don’t I have -to tramp for hours after every single rouble I make, and get abused for -it to my face, yes, to my very face? And how much do I get in the end? -A trifle! A Christian never does get as much as a Jew. Now if only the -devil would carry away that Jew Yankel I might be able to manage. The -people wouldn’t go to any one but me then, whether they wanted flour or -money for taxes. Oho! In that case I might even open a little inn, and -then I could either get some one to run the mill for me, or else sell -it. Bother the mill, say I! Somehow a man isn’t a man as long as he -has to work. The fact is, one copeck begets another. Only fools don’t -know that. If you buy yourself a pair of pigs, for instance--pigs are -prolific animals--in a year you’ll have a herd of them, and money’s -just the same. If you put it out to pasture among stupid folk you can -sit still and yawn until the time comes to drive it home. Every copeck -will have brought forth ten copecks, every rouble will have brought -forth ten roubles.” - -The miller had now reached the crest of a hill from where the road -sloped gently to the river. From here, when the night breeze breathed -into his face, he could faintly hear the sleepy water murmuring in -the mill-race. Looking behind him, the miller could see the village -sleeping among its gardens, and the widow’s little khata under its tall -poplars. He stood plunged in thought for a few moments, scratching the -back of his head. - -“Ah, what a fool I am!” he said at last, resuming his journey. “If my -uncle hadn’t taken it into his head to get drunk on gorelka and walk -into the mill-pond I might have been married to Galya to-day, but now -she’s beneath me. Okh, but that girl is sweet to kiss! Goodness, how -sweet she is! That’s why I say that nothing ever goes right in this -world. If that little face had a nice dowry behind it, if it had even -as much as old Makogon is giving away with his Motria, there would be -nothing more to be said!” - -He cast one last look behind him, and turned on his way, when suddenly -the stroke of a bell resounded from the village. Something seemed to -have fallen from the church steeple that rose from a hill in the centre -of the town, and to be flying, clanging and rocking, across the fields. - -“Eh, hey, it is midnight on earth,” the miller mused, and with a great -yawn he turned and walked rapidly down the hill, thinking of his flock -as he went. He saw his roubles as if they had been alive, passing from -hand to hand and from business to business, grazing and multiplying. He -laughed to recall that some fools thought they worked for themselves. -And when the time was ripe, he, the owner of the flock, would drive it -and its increase back into his iron chest. - -These thoughts were all pleasant ones, but the recollection of the -Jew spoilt them again. The miller was provoked because that son of -Israel had seized all the grazing for himself, leaving his poor roubles -nowhere to feed and nothing to grow fat on, like a flock of sheep in -a field where Jewish goats had already been pasturing. Every one knew -they never could fatten there! - -“Oh, I wish the devil would get him, the foul brute!” the miller said -to himself, and he decided it was the thought of the Jew that depressed -him so. That’s what was wrong with the world. Those infernal Jews -prevented Christians from collecting their lawful profits. - -Half way down the hill, where the peaceful, drowsy sound of the water -in the mill-race came unintermittently to his ears, the miller suddenly -stopped and struck his forehead with the palm of his hand. - -“Ha! What a joke it would be! It would be a grand joke, I swear! This -the Day of Atonement. What if the Hebrew devil should take a fancy to -our inn-keeper Yankel? But he won’t! It couldn’t possibly happen. The -town is crammed with Jews, and Yankel is a tipsy old wretch, as bony as -a hedgehog. Who would want him? No,” thought the miller, “I’m not lucky -enough for Khapun to choose our Yankel out of thousands of others.” - -Then, like a nest of ants in a turmoil, another train of thought began -to pass through his head. - -“Ah, Philip, Philip!” he said to himself. “It isn’t right for a -Christian to think such things! Recollect yourself! Yankel would leave -children behind him, as well as debts. And another reason why it is -sinful: Yankel has never done you any harm. If others have reason to -blame the old inn-keeper, you yourself are not guiltless of usury.” - -But the miller hastily sent other and angrier thoughts to attack these -last unpleasant reflections that had begun to bite his conscience like -vicious dogs. - -“But after all, a Sheeny is only a Sheeny, and isn’t in the same class -with Christians at all. Even if I do lend money--and I do, there’s no -use denying it--it’s better for Christians to pay interest to a brother -Christian than to a heathen Jew.” - -At that moment the last notes of the bell pealed out from the belfry. - -Probably Ivan Kadilo, the bell-ringer, had gone to sleep in the church -and had pulled the bell rope in his sleep, so long had he taken to -sound the hour of midnight. To atone for his neglect, this last tug was -so violent that the miller actually jumped as the sound came rolling -over the hill, over his head, across the river, across the wood, and -away over the distant fields through which wound the road to the city. - -“Every one is asleep now,” the miller thought, and something gripped -his heart. “Every one is asleep where he wants to be; all but the Jews -crowded weeping into their churches, and I, who am standing here by my -mill-pond like a lost soul, thinking wicked thoughts.” - -And everything seemed very strange to him. - -“I hear the sound of the bell dying away over the fields,” thought he, -“and I feel as if something invisible were running, moaning, through -the country. I see the woods beyond the river drenched with dew and -shining in the moonlight, and I begin to wonder why they should be -covered with frost on a summer’s night. And when I remember that my -uncle was drowned in that pond, and how glad I was that it happened, -I seem to lose heart entirely. I don’t know whether to go down to the -mill or to stay where I am.” - -“Gavrilo! Hey, Gavrilo!” he shouted at last. “There now! The mill is -empty, and that scamp has made off to the village again after the -girls.” - -Philip stepped out into a bright spot of moonlight on the dam, and -stood listening to the water trickling through the sluices. It -seemed to him to be stealing out of the pond and creeping toward the -mill-wheels. - -“I had better go to bed,” he thought. “But I’ll see that everything is -all right first.” - -The moon had long since climbed to the zenith, and was looking down -into the water. The miller wondered that the little river should be -deep enough to hold the moon, and the dark blue sky with all its stars, -and the little black cloudlet that was flying along all alone like a -bit of down from the direction of the city. - -But as his eyes were already half blind with sleep he did not wonder -long. Having opened the outer door of the mill and bolted it again from -the inside so that he should hear his reprobate workman when he came -home, he lay down to sleep. - -“Hallo, get up, Philip!” he suddenly thought to himself, and he jumped -out of bed in the darkness as if some one had hit him with an axe. “I -forgot that that little cloud was the same one the Jew’s servant and I -saw flying toward the city, and wondered as we watched it how it could -move without wind. There isn’t much wind now, and what there is isn’t -coming from that quarter. Wait a minute, Philip, there’s something -queer about this!” - -The miller was very sleepy, but, nevertheless, he went out barefoot on -to the dam, and stood in the middle of it scratching his chest and back -(the mill was not free from fleas). A light breeze was blowing from -the mill-pond behind him, and yet there was that little cloud flying -directly in his face. Only it now no longer looked feathery-light, -neither did it fly as swiftly and freely as before. It seemed to be -swaying a little and falling to earth like a wounded bird. As it flew -across the moon the miller at last saw very clearly what it was, for -against that bright orb were silhouetted a pair of dark, flapping -wings, and below them was hanging a human form with a long, quivering -beard. - -“Aha, here’s a pretty to do!” thought the miller. “He’s carrying one of -them away. What shall I do? If I shout to him: drop it, it is mine! the -poor Jew may break his neck or fall into the pond. He’s pretty high up.” - -But he soon saw that the situation was changing. The devil was circling -over the mill with his burden, and beginning to sink to the ground. - -“He was greedy and chose a morsel too big for him,” the miller said to -himself. “Now I can rescue the Jew; he’s a living soul, after all, and -isn’t to be compared to a devil. Come then, God bless me, let me shout -my loudest!” - -But instead of shouting he strangely enough ran away from the dam as -fast as his legs could carry him, and hid under the sycamores that -stood like nixies at the edge of the mill-pond, bathing their green -branches in its dark water. The darkness was as deep under them as in -a barrel, and the miller felt sure that no one could see him. To tell -the honest truth, his teeth were chattering madly and his hands and -feet were trembling as the shafts trembled when his mill was running. -Nevertheless, he couldn’t resist the temptation of peeping out to see -what would happen next. - -First the devil fell almost to earth with his prey, and then rose again -above the tree-tops, but it was plain to see that his load was too -heavy for him. Twice he actually touched the water, so that the ripples -spread in circles from the Jew’s feet, but each time he flapped his -wings, and rose again with his prey as a sea-gull rises from the water -with a heavy fish. At last, after circling about two or three times, -the devil fell heavily on to the dam, and lay as if dead, with the -fainting Jew inanimate at his side. - -And I must tell you--I had nearly forgotten it--that our friend the -miller had long ago seen whom the Jewish Khapun had brought from the -city. And when he recognised him--need I conceal it when he has -confessed it himself?--he grew merry at heart and thought: - -“Thank God, it is no other than our inn-keeper from Novokamensk! What -happens next is none of my business, because I don’t think I ought to -interfere in other people’s affairs. When two dogs are fighting there’s -no reason a third should jump in. Again I say, let sleeping dogs lie. -What if I hadn’t have happened to be here? I’m not the Jew’s guardian.” - -And he also thought: - -“Aha, Philipko, now your time has come in Novokamensk!” - - -IV - -Both the unfortunate Jew and the devil lay motionless on the dam for -a long time. The moon had begun to redden, and was hanging above the -tree-tops as if only waiting to see what the end would be before -setting. A hoarse cock crowed in the village, and a dog yelped twice. -But no other cocks or dogs answered these two; it evidently still -lacked some hours to dawn. - -The miller was exhausted, and was already beginning to think it had -all been a dream, especially as the dam now lay wrapped in profoundest -darkness, so that it was impossible to distinguish what the black -object lying upon it was. But when the solitary cock-crow resounded -from the village the dark mass stirred. Yankel raised his head in its -skull-cap, looked about him, got up, and began to steal softly away, -stepping high like a stork with his thin legs, in his stocking-feet. - -“Hi, there! Stop him; he’s making off!” the startled miller came near -shouting, but next moment he saw the devil catch Yankel by his long -coat-tails. - -“Wait a bit!” Khapun cried. “There’s plenty of time yet. What a hurry -you’re in! Here you are wanting to be off again before I’ve had time to -rest! It’s all right for you, but what about me, who have to drag a big -fellow like you along? I’m nearly dead!” - -“Very well, then,” said the Jew, trying to free his coat-tails from the -devil’s grasp. “Rest a little longer, and I’ll walk to my inn on foot.” - -The devil jumped up in surprise. - -“What’s that you’re saying?” he cried. “Do you think I have hired -myself out to you as a cart to take you home from church, you hound? -You must be joking!” - -“Why should I be joking?” asked the wily Yankel, pretending to have -no idea what the Devil wanted with him. “I am very grateful indeed to -you for having brought me so far, and I can now go on quite well by -myself. It is only a short way. I wouldn’t think of troubling you any -more.” - -The devil quivered with rage. He ran round and round on the same spot -like a chicken with its head off, and knocked Yankel down with his -wing. He was panting like a blacksmith’s bellows. - -“Well, I never!” the miller thought. “I don’t care if it is sin to -admire a devil, I do admire this one; he would never let his lawful -property slip between his fingers, one can see that!” - -Yankel sat up and began to yell with all his might. Even the devil -could do nothing to stop him. Every one knows that as long as a Jew has -a breath in his body nothing will make him hold his tongue. - -“What does it matter, though?” thought the miller, looking round at his -empty mill. “My man is either amusing himself with the girls or else -lying drunk under a hedge.” - -A sleepy frog in the mud answered Yankel’s pitiful screams with a -croak, and a bittern, that foul bird of the night, boomed twice as if -from an empty barrel: boo-oo, boo-oo! The moon had finally sunk behind -the wood, assured that the Jew was dead and done for; darkness had -fallen upon the mill, the dam, and the river, and a white mist had -gathered over the pond. - -The devil carelessly shook his wings, and lay down again, saying with a -laugh: - -“Scream as loud as you like! The mill is deserted.” - -“How do you know it’s deserted?” snapped the Jew, and he began to -scream for the miller. - -“Mr. Miller! Oi, Mr. Miller! Golden, silver, diamond Mr. Miller! -Please, please come here for one little tiny second and say three -words, three little tiny words! I’ll make you a present of half the -debt you owe me if you’ll only come!” - -“You’ll make me a present of the whole debt!” said a voice in the -miller’s heart. - -The Jew stopped screaming, his head sank forward on his breast, and he -burst into a fit of bitter weeping. - -Again some time passed. The moon had now set, and its last rays had -died out of the sky. Everything in heaven and on earth seemed wrapped -in the deepest slumber; not a sound could be heard except the Jew’s low -weeping and his exclamations of: - -“Oh, my Sarah! Oh, my poor children! My poor little children!” - -The devil felt a little rested, and sat up. Although it was dark, -the miller could distinctly see a pair of horns like a young calf’s -outlined against the white mist that hung over the pond. - -“He looks just like ours!” thought the miller, feeling as if he had -swallowed something exceedingly cold. - -Then he saw the Jew nudge the devil with his elbow. - -“What are you nudging me for?” asked Khapun. - -“Sh, I want to tell you something.” - -“What?” - -“Won’t you please tell me why it is your custom always to carry off a -poor Jew? Why don’t you catch a daintier morsel? For instance, there is -an excellent miller living right here.” - -The devil sighed deeply. Perhaps he was tired of sitting there on -the edge of the pond by the empty mill; anyhow, he entered into -conversation with the Jew. He raised his skull-cap--you must know that -he wore a skull-cap with long ringlets hanging from underneath it, -just as the servant had described him--and scratched his crown with a -rasping noise like the most savage of cats clawing a board when a mouse -has escaped it. Then he said: - -“Alas, Yankel, you don’t know our business! I couldn’t possibly -approach him.” - -“And why, may I ask, would you have to take the time to approach him? I -know for myself that you snatched me away before I could even yell.” - -The devil laughed so merrily that he actually frightened a night-bird -out of the reeds, and said: - -“That’s a fact! You were easy to catch. And do you know why?” - -“Why-y?” - -“Because you’re a good lusty catcher yourself. I assure you there’s no -other race on earth as sinful as you Jews.” - -“Oi, vei, that is most surprising! And what are our sins?” - -“Listen and I shall tell you.” - -The devil turned to the Jew and began counting on his fingers. - -“Number one. You are usurers.” - -“One,” repeated Yankel, also counting on his fingers. - -“Number two. You live by the blood and sweat of the people.” - -“Two.” - -“Number three. You sell the people vodka.” - -“Three.” - -“Number four. You dilute it with water.” - -“Oh, let number four go! And what is the next?” - -“Are four sins so few? Ah, Yankel, Yankel!” - -“Oh, I don’t say four are few, I only say that you don’t know your own -business. Do you think the miller isn’t a usurer, do you think the -miller doesn’t live by the sweat and blood of the people?” - -“Come, now, don’t pick at the miller! He’s not that kind of a man--he’s -a Christian. A Christian is supposed to have pity not only on his own -people but on others, too, even on Jews like you. That’s why it’s so -hard for me to catch a Christian.” - -“Oi, vei, what a mistake you make there!” cried the Jew gaily. “Here, -let me tell you something----” - -He jumped up, and the devil rose too; they stood facing one another. -The Jew whispered something in the devil’s ear, motioning toward some -object behind him under the sycamore tree. He pointed it out to the -devil with his crooked forefinger. - -“That’s number one!” - -“You’re lying; it can’t be true!” the devil answered, a little -startled, peering toward the trees where Philip was hiding. - -“Ha, ha, I know better! Just wait a moment.” - -Once more he whispered something, and then said aloud: - -“Number two! And this----” again he whispered in the devil’s ear. -“Makes three, as I am an honest Jew!” - -The devil shook his head and answered doubtfully: - -“It can’t be true.” - -“Let’s make a bet. If I am right you shall let me go free when a year -is up, and repay me my losses into the bargain.” - -“Ha! I agree. What a joke it would be! Then I should try my power----” - -“You’re getting a fine bargain, I can tell you!” - -At that moment the cock in the village crowed once more, and although -his voice was so sleepy that again no other bird answered him out of -the silent night, Khapun shuddered. - -“Here, what am I standing here gaping at you for while you tell me -tales? A bird in the hand is worth two in the bush. Come along!” - -He flapped his wings, flew a few feet along the dam, and once more fell -upon poor Yankel like a hawk, burying his claws in the back of his -shirt, and preparing to take flight. - -Alas, how piteously old Yankel screamed, stretching out his arms toward -the village and his native hut, calling his wife and children by name! - -“Oi, my Sarah! Oi, Shlemka, Iteley, Movshey! Oi, Mr. Miller, Mr. -Miller! Please, please save me! Say the three words! I see you; there -you are, standing under the sycamore tree. Have pity on a poor Jew! He -has a living soul like you!” - -Very, very piteous were poor Yankel’s lamentations! Icy fingers seemed -to clutch the miller’s heart and squeeze it until it ached. The devil -seemed to be waiting for something, his wings fluttered like the wings -of a young bustard that has not learnt to fly. He hovered silently over -the dam with Yankel in his talons. - -“What a wretch that devil is!” thought the miller, hiding farther under -the trees. “He is only tormenting the poor Jew. If the cocks should -crow again----” - -Hardly had that thought entered his head than the devil laughed till -the wood rang, and suddenly sprang aloft into the sky. The miller -peered upward, but in a few seconds the devil appeared no larger than -a sparrow. Then he glimmered for a moment like a fly, then like a gnat, -and at last disappeared. - -Then the miller was seized with genuine terror. His knees knocked -together, his teeth chattered, his hair stood on end so high that, had -he been wearing a hat, it would certainly have been knocked off his -head. He never could say exactly what he did next. - - -V - -Bang--bang! - -Bang--bang--bang! Bang--bang! - -Some one was knocking so loudly at the door of the mill that the whole -building was filled with noisy echoes that reverberated in every -corner. The miller thought the devil might have come back--he and the -Jew had not whispered together for nothing!--so he only buried his head -under the pillow. - -“Bang--bang! Bang--bang! Hey, master, unlock the door!” - -“I won’t!” - -“And why won’t you?” - -The miller raised his head. - -“Ah, that sounds like Gavrilo’s voice. Gavrilo, is that you?” - -“Who else should it be?” - -“Swear that it’s you!” - -“What?” - -“Swear!” - -“All right, then, I swear it’s me. How could I not be myself? And yet -you want me to swear it! There’s a marvel for you!” - -Even then the miller wouldn’t believe him. He went upstairs and peeped -out of a window over the door, and there beneath him stood Gavrilo. The -miller was much relieved and went down to open the door. - -Gavrilo was actually staggered when the miller appeared in the doorway. - -“Why, master, what has happened to you?” - -“What’s the matter?” - -“Why on earth have you smeared your face all over with flour? You’re as -white as chalk!” - -“Didn’t you come across the river?” - -“I did.” - -“And didn’t you look up?” - -“Perhaps.” - -“And didn’t you see some one?” - -“Who?” - -“Who? Fool! The creature that nabbed Yankel the inn-keeper.” - -“Who the devil nabbed him?” - -“Who, indeed? Why, the Jewish devil, Khapun. Don’t you know what day -this has been?” - -Gavrilo looked at the miller with troubled eyes and asked: - -“Have you been to the village this evening?” - -“Yes.” - -“Did you stop at the inn?” - -“Yes.” - -“Did you drink any gorelka?” - -“Bah, what’s the use of talking to a fool? I did have some gorelka at -the priest’s, but all the same I have just seen with my own eyes the -devil resting on the dam with the Jew in his claws.” - -“Where?” - -“Right there, in the middle of the dam.” - -“And what happened next?” - -“Well, and then----” the miller whistled and waved his hand in the air. - -Gavrilo stared at the dam, scratched his top-knot, and looked up at the -sky. - -“There’s a marvel for you! What’ll we do now? How can we get along -without the Jew?” - -“Why are you so anxious to have a Jew here, hey?” - -“It isn’t only me. One can’t--oh, don’t argue about it, master, things -wouldn’t be the same without a Jew; one couldn’t get along without one.” - -“Tut, tut! What a fool you are!” - -“What are you scolding me for? I don’t say I’m clever, but I know -millet from buckwheat. I work in the mill, but I drink vodka at the -tavern. Tell me, as you’re so clever, who will be our inn-keeper now?” - -“Who?” - -“Yes, who?” - -“Perhaps I will.” - -“You?” - -Gavrilo stared at the miller with his eyes starting out of his head. -Then he shook his head, clicked his tongue, and said: - -“So, that’s your idea!” - -The miller now noticed for the first time that Gavrilo was very -uncertain on his legs and that the lads had given him another black -eye. To tell the truth, the fellow looked so ugly and pale that you -wanted to spit at the sight of him. He was a great hand with the girls, -and the lads had more than once fallen upon him. Whenever they caught -him they were sure to beat him almost to death. Of course it was no -wonder they beat him; the wonder was there was ever anything for which -to do it! - -“There is no face in the world so ugly but some girl will fall in love -with it,” thought the miller. “But they love him by threes and fours -and dozens. Ugh! You scarecrow!” - -“Come, Gavrilo, boy,” he nevertheless said in a coaxing voice, “come -and sleep with me. When a man has seen what I have he feels a bit -nervous.” - -“All right, it’s all the same to me.” - -A minute later a certain workman was whistling through his nose. And -let me tell you, I spent the night at the mill once myself, and I have -never heard any one whistle through his nose as Gavrilo did. If a man -didn’t like it he had better not spend the night in the same house -with him or he wouldn’t sleep a wink. - -“Gavrilo!” said the miller. “Hey, Gavrilo!” - -“Well, then, what is it? If I couldn’t sleep myself at least I wouldn’t -keep others awake!” - -“Did they beat you again?” - -“What if they did?” - -“Where have you been?” - -“You want to know everything, don’t you? In Konda.” - -“In Konda? Why did you go there?” - -“Because! What else do you want to know? Hee, hee, hee!” - -“Aren’t there girls enough for you in Novokamensk?” - -“Bah! It makes me sick to look at them. There isn’t one there that -suits me.” - -“What about Galya, the widow’s daughter?” - -“Galya? What do I care about Galya?” - -“What, have you been courting her?” - -“Of course I have; what do you think?” - -The miller flounced over in bed. - -“You’re lying, you hound; a plague seize your mother!” - -“I’m not lying and I never lie. I leave that to cleverer men than I am.” - -Gavrilo yawned and said in a sleepy voice: - -“Do you remember, master, how my right eye was so swelled up for a -week that you couldn’t even see it?” - -“Well?” - -“That devil’s child entertained me by doing that. Confound her, say I! -Galya, indeed!” - -“So that’s how things are, is it?” thought the miller. “Gavrilo! Hey, -Gavrilo! Oh, the hound, he’s snoring again--Gavrilo!” - -“What _do_ you want? Have you gone crazy?” - -“Do you want to get married?” - -“I haven’t made my boots yet. When I’ve made my boots I’ll think about -it.” - -“But I’d give you boots, and tar for them, and a hat and a belt.” - -“Would you? And I’ll tell you something better still.” - -“What?” - -“That the cocks are already crowing in the village. Can’t you hear them -going it?” - -It was true. In the village, perhaps at Galya’s cottage, -a shrill-voiced cock was splitting his throat shouting -“cock-a-doodle-doo!” - -“Cock-a-doodle-doo!” answered other voices from far and near like water -boiling in a kettle, and all the cracks in the wall of the little room -began to gleam white, even down to the tiniest chink. - -The miller yawned blissfully. - -“Ah, now they are far away!” he thought. “How funny it was! He flew all -the way from the city to my mill while the clock was striking twelve. -Ha, ha, and so Yankel has gone! What a joke! Why, if I should tell it -to any one, they’d call me a liar. But why should I lie? They’ll find -it out for themselves to-morrow. Perhaps I’d better not mention it at -all. They would say I ought to have--but what’s the use of arguing -about it? If I had killed the Jew myself, or anything like that, I -should have been responsible for what happened, but as it is, it -doesn’t concern me at all. What need had I to interfere? Let sleeping -dogs lie, say I. A shut mouth plays safe. They won’t hear anything from -me.” - -So Philip the miller reasoned with himself, and tried to ease his -conscience a little. It was only as he was on the verge of falling -asleep that a thought crept out of some recess of his brain like a toad -out of a hole, and that thought was: - -“Now, Philip, now’s your time!” - -This thought chased all the others out of his mind and took possession -of it. - -With it he went to sleep. - - -VI - -Early next morning, while the dew is still glittering on the grass, -behold the miller dressed and on his way to the village. He found the -people there buzzing like bees in a hive. - -“Hey! Have you heard the news?” they cried. “Only a pair of shoes came -back from the city last night instead of the inn-keeper.” - -It was the talk of the village that morning, and the amount of gossip -was sinful! - -When Yankel’s widow had a pair of shoes returned to her instead of her -husband, she lost her head entirely and didn’t know what in the world -to do. To make matters worse, Yankel had wisely taken all his bonds to -town with him, never dreaming that Khapun would get him that night. How -could the poor Jew guess that out of the whole Hebrew congregation the -devil would happen to choose him? - -“That’s the way people always are, they never know, they never feel -when trouble like, for instance, Khapun is hanging over their heads.” - -So spoke the village folk, shaking their heads as they left the inn -where the young Jewess and her children were tearing their clothes and -beating their foreheads on the floor. And at the same time each man -thought to himself: - -“Well, anyhow, the bond I gave him has gone to the devil!” - -To tell you the truth, there were very few in the village whose -consciences whispered to them: - -“It wouldn’t be a bad idea to return the principal to the Jews, even if -we kept the interest.” - -And the fact is no one gave up so much as one crooked penny. - -The miller did not pay anything either, but then he thought he was -different. - -The widow Yankel begged and implored the townsfolk to help her, and -even made her children throw themselves at their feet, beseeching them -to let her have fifty, or even twenty, copecks on every rouble so that -she shouldn’t starve, and might somehow manage to take her little -orphans to the city. And more than one kind-hearted man was so moved -that the tears trickled down his whiskers, and more than one nudged his -neighbour and said: - -“Haven’t you any fear of God in you, neighbour? Didn’t you owe the Jew -money? Why don’t you pay her? Upon my word, you ought to, even if it’s -only a little.” - -But the neighbour would only scratch his top-knot under his hat and -answer: - -“Why should I pay him, when with my own hands I took him every penny I -owed him the day he went to the city? Would you have me to pay twice? -Now with you, neighbour, it’s different!” - -“Why is it different with me when I did exactly what you did? Yankel -came to me just before he went away and begged me to pay him, and I -did.” - -The miller listened to all this, and his heart ached to hear it. - -“What a bad lot they are!” he thought. “Goodness knows, they’re a bad -lot! There’s absolutely no fear of God in their hearts. I see from -this that they’ll never pay me unless they’re driven to do it. So, -gentlemen, I must take care or I shall get robbed; only a born fool -would put his finger in the mouth of any one of you! No, you needn’t -expect that of me! I’m not going to make a fool of myself. You’ll not -spit in my porridge. If anything, I’ll spit in yours.” - -Old Prisia alone took the Jewess two dozen eggs and a piece of cloth, -and paid the inn-keeper’s widow as many copecks as she owed her. - -“Take them, dearie, in God’s name,” said she. “If I owe you a little -more I’ll bring it here as God sends it to me. I have brought you all I -have now.” - -“There’s a crafty old woman for you!” the miller again commented -angrily. “She wouldn’t pay me a thing yesterday and yet she is able to -pay the Jewess. How wicked these people are! One can’t even trust the -old women. She says she can’t pay a good Christian like me and then -goes and hands over all her money to a nasty Jewess. Wait a bit, old -woman, I’ll get even with you some day!” - -Well, Yankel’s widow gathered her children about her, and sold the -inn and the stock of vodka for a song; but there wasn’t much vodka -left, for Yankel had meant to bring back a cask from the city, and -people said, too, that Kharko had filched a cask or two from what had -remained. So she took what she could get and left Novokamensk on foot -with her children. Two she carried in her arms, a third toddled at her -side holding on to her skirt, and the two eldest skipped on ahead. - -And again the villagers scratched their heads, while those who had a -conscience thought: “If only I could give the Jewess a wagon for the -money I owe her perhaps I’d feel easier.” - -But, you see, each man was afraid that the others would guess he hadn’t -squared his account with the Jew. - -And the miller thought again: - -“Oh, what wicked people! Now I know how gladly they’d hustle me out of -the way if I should ever stumble or come a cropper.” - -So the poor widow crawled away to the city, and heaven only knows what -became of her there. Maybe she and the children found something to do; -maybe they all died of hunger. Everything is possible. But as a matter -of fact, Jews are tenacious creatures. They may live badly, but they -manage to stay alive. - -Then the people began to ask themselves who would be the next -inn-keeper in Novokamensk. For though Yankel had gone and the women and -children of the inn had wandered away into the wide world, the tavern -still stood on its hill, and on its doors were still depicted in white -paint a quart measure and a tin mug. And everything else was there in -its proper place. - -Even Kharko still sat on the hill smoking his long pipe and waiting to -see whom God would send him for a master. - -One evening though, when the village folk were standing in front of -the empty tavern and wondering who would be their next inn-keeper, the -priest came up, and bowing deeply--for the mayor was there, and as he -is a great man it is no sin even for a priest to bow to him--began to -say what a good thing it would be if a meeting could be arranged to -close up the tavern for good and all. He, the priest, would write a -letter with his own hand and send it to the bishop. And this would be a -splendid, beautiful thing, and beneficial to the whole village. - -The old men and the women answered that what the priest had said was -the honest truth, but the miller thought the priest’s idea absolutely -worthless and even insulting. - -“What a wicked priest!” he thought with indignation. “There’s a friend -for you! Just you wait a bit, though, holy Father, you’ll see what’ll -happen.” - -“You are quite right, Father,” he answered in oily tones, “your letter -will do a great deal of good, only I don’t know whom it will help most, -you or the village. You know yourself--don’t take it ill--that you -always send to the city for vodka and so you don’t need the tavern. -It would be very nice for you to have the bishop read your letter and -praise it.” - -The people shouted with laughter, but the priest only spat in a great -huff, clapped his straw hat on his head, and walked away down the -street as if nothing had happened and he was simply taking an evening -stroll. - -Need I tell you more? You must surely have guessed already that the -miller had made up his mind to be the keeper of the Jewish tavern. -And having made up his mind he talked very agreeably to the mayor, -entertained whichever members of the County Court he thought advisable, -and reasoned very cleverly with the captain of police and with the head -of the District, as well as with the judge, the treasurer, and finally -with the commissioner of rural police and the customs inspector. - -On his way back from the village after all these exertions the miller -passed the inn. There was Kharko, sitting on the hill smoking his pipe. -The miller only nodded to him, but Kharko--although he was a proud -fellow--jumped up at once and ran toward him. - -“Well, what have you got to say?” asked the miller. - -“What should I have to say? I am waiting for you to tell me something.” - -“Well, well.” - -Kharko didn’t want to nail the miller down with words yet, so he -listened to what the miller said, pulled off his cap with both hands, -and wisely answered: - -“I shall be very glad to do all I can for my kind master.” - -So the miller took possession of the inn and lorded it in Novokamensk -better than Yankel had done. He put his roubles out to pasture among -the people, and when the time came he drove them and their increase -back into his chest. And no one there was to get in his way. - -And if it was true that more than one person wept bitter tears because -of him--why there is no room for truth in this world. And many did -weep; whether more than had wept when Yankel kept the inn or fewer, I -cannot attempt to say. Who can take the measure of human grief and who -can count human tears? - -Ah, no one has ever measured the grief and no one has ever counted -the tears of the world, but the old folks say, “walking or riding, -trouble’s always in hiding”; and that “the back doesn’t laugh at a -stick or a staff.” I don’t know how true that is, but it seems true to -me. - - -VII - -I must admit I didn’t mean to tell you all this about my friend, but -it’s too late to take it back now. I’ve begun the story and I shall go -on to the end. A song’s not a song, they say, if a word is missing. -And after all, if the miller doesn’t hide anything, why should I? - -You see, the state of affairs was this. All old Yankel had ever wanted -had been human money. If he heard with one corner of his ear that some -one had a rouble or two loose in his pocket his heart would give him -a little prod and he would immediately think of some way in which he -could pull up that rouble and put it to work for him, as one might pull -a fish out of somebody else’s pond. If he succeeded, he and his Sarah -would rejoice over their good fortune. - -But that wasn’t enough for the miller. Yankel had always grovelled -before every one, but the miller held his head as high as a turkey -cock. Yankel had always slipped up to the back door of the District -policeman’s house and stood timidly on the threshold, but the miller -swaggered all over the front steps as if he were at home there. Yankel -never took it hard if he got his ears boxed by some drunken fellow. He -howled a bit and then stopped, perhaps squeezing a few extra copecks -out of his tormentor one day or another to make up for it. But if the -miller ever got hold of a peasant’s top-knot it would probably stay in -his hands, and his eyes would flash like the sparks from a blacksmith’s -hammer. With the miller it was: pay up both money and respect! And he -got them both, there’s no use denying it. The people bowed low before -their icons, but they bowed lower before my friend. - -And yet he never could get enough. He went about as surly and angry as -if a puppy were worrying his heart, thinking to himself all the time: - -“Everything is wrong in this world, everything is wrong! Somehow money -doesn’t make a man as happy as it ought to.” - -Kharko once asked him: - -“Why do you go about looking as cross as if some one had thrown a -bucket of slops over you, master? What does my master want?” - -“Perhaps if I got married I should be happier.” - -“Then go ahead and get married.” - -“That’s just the trouble. How can I get married when the thing’s -impossible no matter how I tackle it? I’ll tell you the truth: I fell -in love with Galya, the widow’s daughter, before I ever came to be a -miller and while I was still a workman at the mill. If my uncle hadn’t -got drowned I should be married to her to-day. But now you see yourself -that she is below me.” - -“Of course, she is below you! All you can do now is to marry rich old -Makogon’s daughter Motria.” - -“There you are! I can see for myself and every one says that my money -and old Makogon’s would just match, but there you are again--the girl -is so ugly. She sits all day like a great bale of hay everlastingly -hulling seeds. Every time I look at her I feel as if some one had got -me by the nose and were pulling me away from her. How different Galya -is! That’s why I say everything is wrong in this world. If a man loves -one girl the other one’s sure to have the money. I shall certainly -shrivel up some day like a blade of grass. I loathe the world.” - -The soldier took his pipe out of his mouth, spat, and said: - -“That’s bad! Any one but me would never have thought of a way out of -it, but I’m going to give you some advice that you’ll not be sorry if -you take. Will you give me the pair of new boots that Opanas left in -pawn if I tell you what to do?” - -“I wouldn’t begrudge you a pair of boots for your advice, but have you -thought of something that really will help me?” - -Well, it turned out that that wicked soldier had thought of a plan -which, if it had gone through a little bit sooner, would certainly have -sent the miller straight to the devil in hell and I should never have -been telling you this story. - -“Very well, then, listen carefully to me,” Kharko said. “Plainly, there -are three of you, one man and two girls. And plainly one man can’t -possibly marry them both unless he’s a Turk.” - -“How right the wretch is!” thought the miller. “What’s coming next?” - -“Good! Now as you are a rich man and Motria is a rich girl, and baby -can see who ought to marry who. Send the match-makers to old Makogon.” - -“That’s all very well! I knew that without being told. But what about -Galya?” - -“Do you want to hear to the end? Or do you yourself know what I’m going -to say?” - -“Come, come, don’t get cross!” - -“You make every one cross. I’m not the man to begin saying something -and then stop before I’ve finished. Now, to come to Galya. Used she to -love you?” - -“I should say she did!” - -“And what were you when she loved you?” - -“A workman in the mill.” - -“Then a baby could understand that too. If the girl loved a workman -once, let her marry a workman now.” - -The miller’s eyes grew as round as saucers and his head began to go -round like a mill-wheel. - -“But I’m not a workman any longer!” - -“How dreadful! And isn’t there a workman at the mill?” - -“You mean Gavrilo? So that’s your idea, is it? Very well, let him give -you a pair of boots for it! Neither he nor his uncle nor his aunts will -ever see me stand that arrangement, I can tell you! I’d sooner go and -break every bone in his body.” - -“Gracious, what a hot-tempered fellow you are; hot enough to boil an -egg! I was going to tell you something entirely different when you -boiled over like this.” - -“What can you tell me now seeing that that little joke didn’t please -me?” - -“Just listen.” - -Kharko took his pipe out of his mouth, winked, and clicked his tongue -so sympathetically the miller felt better at once. - -“And you--did you love her though she was poor?” - -“Yes, indeed I did!” - -“Well, then, go on loving her to your heart’s content after she has -married the workman. And this is the end of my speech. You three will -live at the mill together and the fourth fool won’t count. Aha! Now you -know whether I have brought you honey or gall, don’t you? Yes indeed! -Kharko’s head is all right because he was always licked on the back. -That’s why he’s such a clever fellow and knows who will get the kernel -of the nut, who will get the shell, and who will get the pair of boots.” - -“But what if your plan shouldn’t work?” - -“Why shouldn’t it work?” - -“For lots of reasons. Perhaps old Makogon won’t consent.” - -“Bah! Let me talk to him.” - -“Well, what would you say?” - -“I’ll tell you. I’d be on my way from the city with a load of vodka. -He’d be coming toward me. We’d talk a while and then I’d say: I’ve -found a husband for your daughter; it’s our miller.” - -“And what would he say?” - -“He’d say: ‘Well I never! Your grandmother never expected that! How -much is he worth?’” - -“And what would you answer?” - -“I’d answer: Of course my grandmother never expected it because she -died long ago, God rest her soul! So you don’t know, I see, that the -devil has carried away our Jew?” - -“‘Then that’s altogether different,’ he’d say. ‘If there’s no Jew in -the village the miller will be a substantial man.’” - -“All right, supposing Makogon gives his consent, will Galya marry the -workman?” - -“If you drive the girl and her mother out of their khata she will be -glad to live at the mill.” - -“I see--well, well----” - - -VIII - -The miller scratched his head in perplexity, and things went on like -that, you must know, not only for a day but for almost a year. The -miller had hardly had time to look about him before St. Philip’s day -had come and gone, and Easter, and Spring, and Summer. Then once again -he found himself standing at the door of the tavern, with Kharko -leaning against the door post beside him. The moon was shining exactly -as it had shone one year before, the river was sparkling as it had -sparkled then, the street was just as white, and the same black shadow -was lying on the silver ground beside the miller. And something flashed -across his memory. - -“Listen to me, Kharko!” - -“What do you want?” - -“What day of the week is it?” - -“Monday.” - -“It was Saturday last year, do you remember?” - -“Saturdays are as thick as flies.” - -“I mean the Day of Atonement one year ago.” - -“Oh, that’s what you’re thinking of! Yes, it was Saturday last year.” - -“When will the Day of Atonement be this year?” - -“I can’t say when it will be. There’s no Jew near here now, so I don’t -know.” - -“Look at the sky. It’s clear and bright, just as it was that night.” - -And the miller glanced in terror at the window of the Jewish hut, -afraid of seeing again those Hebrew children nodding their heads and -humming their prayers for their daddy whom Khapun was carrying away -over the hills and dales. - -But no! All that was over. Probably not a bone was left of Yankel by -now; his orphans had wandered away into the wide world, and their hut -was as dark as a tomb. The miller’s heart was as full of darkness as -the deserted Jewish khata. - -“I didn’t save the Jew,” he thought. “It was I who made his children -orphans, and now what dreadful things am I plotting against the widow’s -daughter?” - -“Would it be right for us to do it?” he asked of Kharko. - -“Why not? Of course there are some people who won’t eat honey. Perhaps -you are one of them.” - -“No, I’m not one of them, but still--well, good-bye!” - -“Good-bye!” - -The miller started down the hill, and once more Kharko whistled after -him. Although he did not whistle as insultingly as he had the year -before, it flicked the miller on the raw. - -“What do you mean by whistling, you rascal?” he asked, turning round. - -“What, mayn’t a man even whistle?” Kharko retorted crossly. “I used to -whistle when I was orderly to the Captain, and yet I mayn’t do it here!” - -“After all, why shouldn’t he whistle?” the miller thought. “Only why -does everything happen just as it did that evening?” - -So he walked away down the hill and Kharko went on whistling, only more -softly. The miller passed the garden where the cherry trees grew, and -once more what seemed to be two great birds rose out of the grass. -Once more a tall hat and a girl’s white blouse gleamed in the darkness -and some one gave a smack that resounded through the bushes. Ugh, out -upon you! But this time the miller did not stop to scold the shameless -youngster; he was afraid he might get the very same answer he had had -the year before. So our Philip went his way quietly toward the widow’s -cottage. - -There stood the little khata shimmering under the moon; the tiny window -was winking, and the tall poplar seemed to be bathing in the moonlight. -The miller stopped at the stile, scratched his head under his hat, and -again threw his leg across the hedge. - -“Knock--knock!” - -“Okh, there is sure to be a fuss as there was last time, only worse,” -thought the miller. “That infernal Kharko with his infernal talk told -me just what to say, but now, when I remember what he told me, it -doesn’t somehow seem right. It doesn’t sound common sense. But what -will be, will be!” and he knocked again. - -A pale face and a pair of black eyes gleamed for an instant at the -window. - -“Mother, mother mine!” whispered Galya. “Here’s that wicked miller -again standing at the window and tapping on the pane.” - -“Ah, she doesn’t lean out to put her arms around me and kiss me this -time, even by mistake,” thought the miller sadly. - -The girl came out softly and stood a long way off with her arms folded -on her white breast. - -“What do you mean by knocking again?” - -Alas, it is bitter for a man to hear such cold words from the girl who -has been his darling love! The miller longed to embrace her girlish -form and show her why he had knocked. To tell you the truth, he was -already beginning to sidle toward her when he remembered what Kharko -had told him, and answered instead: - -“Why should I not knock when you owe me so much that you will never be -able to pay me? Your hut isn’t worth the debt.” - -“If you know we shall never pay you, don’t come knocking at the window -by night, you godless man! You will drive my old mother into her grave.” - -“Who the devil is driving her into her grave, Galya? If you only would -let me, I would give your mother a peaceful old age.” - -“You’re lying!” - -“No, I’m not lying! Oi, Galya, Galya! I can’t live without loving you!” - -“You lie like a dog! Who was it sent the match-makers to Makogon?” - -“Whether I sent them or not, I’ll tell you the whole truth and swear to -it if you like. I’m pining and fading away without you. And I’m going -to tell you just what we’ll do, and if you’re a sensible girl you’ll -listen to me. But I make one condition: listen with your ears and -answer with your tongue. No hand play this time! If there is, I’ll be -angry.” - -“You’ve a funny way of doing things,” said Galya, folding her arms. -“However, I’ll listen to you; but I warn you, if you begin to talk -nonsense don’t call on your God to help you!” - -“It won’t be nonsense. You see--oh, how did Kharko begin?” - -“Kharko? What has Kharko to do with you and me?” - -“Oh, do be quiet or I won’t be able to get anything straight. Listen to -me: used you to love me?” - -“Would I have kissed an ugly face like yours if I hadn’t?” - -“And what was I then, a workman in the mill or not?” - -“A workman, of course. I wish to goodness you had never become a -miller!” - -“Tut, tut, don’t talk so much or I’ll get mixed up! So you see it is -clear that you loved a workman once and that therefore you ought to -marry a workman now and live at the mill. And I shall go on loving you -as I always have, even if I marry ten Motrias.” - -Galya actually rubbed her eyes; she thought she was dreaming. - -“What nonsense are you talking, man? Either I’m absolutely crazy or -else there’s a screw loose in your head. How can I marry a workman now -that you are a miller? And how can you marry me when you’re sending -the match-makers to Motria? What nonsense you’re talking, man! Cross -yourself with your left hand!” - -“What do you mean?” answered the miller. “Do you think I haven’t a -workman at the mill? What about Gavrilo? Isn’t he one? He’s a little -stupid, I know, but that will be all the better for us, Galya, my -darling.” - -Only then did the girl at last understand what the miller was driving -at with his cunning talk. You should have seen her throw up her arms -and heard her scream! - -“Oi, mother, dear mother, listen to what he is saying! He wants to turn -Turk and to keep two wives! Fetch the pitchfork out of the cottage -quick, while I settle him with my hands!” - -So she fell upon the miller, and the miller fell back. He escaped to -the stile, put one foot upon it, and said: - -“Oho! So that’s your game, little viper! Very well then, quit this hut -with your mother! To-morrow I’ll take it for your debts. Away with you!” - -But she shouted back: - -“Get out of my garden, you Turk, as long as it’s mine! If you don’t -I’ll scratch you with my nails so that even your Motria won’t know -where your eyes and nose and mouth have been. Not only will you not -have two sweethearts, not one will look at an eyeless creature like -you.” - -What use to talk to her? The miller spat, jumped quickly over the -hedge, and left the village in a rage. When he reached the crest of the -hill from where there came to him the murmuring of the stream in the -mill-race, he looked back and shook his fist. - -And at that moment he heard the sound of a bell: ding, dong; ding, -dong! Again Kadilo was ringing the hour of midnight from the village -belfry. - - -IX - -The miller reached his mill. It was all drenched with dew; the moon was -shining, the wood was shimmering, and a bittern, that foul bird, was -awake and booming in the reeds, sleepless, as if it were waiting for -some one, as if it were calling up some one out of the pond. - -Dread fell upon Philip the miller. - -“Hey! Gavrilo!” he shouted. - -“Oo-oo, oo-oo!” answered the bittern from the marsh, but not a squeak -came from the mill. - -“Oh, the confounded scapegrace! He’s run off after the girls again.” -So thought the miller, and somehow did not feel like going alone into -the empty mill. Although he was used to it, he sometimes remembered -that not only fish but adders were to be found swimming about among the -piles in the dark water under the floor. - -He looked in the direction of the city. The night was warm and bright; -a light mist was circling over the river that flowed through the woods, -lost in the shimmering murk. There was not a cloud in the sky. - -The miller looked behind him, and wondered afresh at the depth of his -pond that found room in its bosom for the moon and the stars and the -whole of the dark blue sky. - -As he gazed at the pond, he saw in the water something resembling a -gnat flying across the stars. He looked more closely, and saw the gnat -grow to the size of a fly, and the fly to a sparrow, and the sparrow to -a crow, and the crow to a hawk. - -“Well, I’ll be damned!” cried the miller, and, raising his eyes, he saw -something flying not through the water but through the air, and making -straight for the mill. - -“The Lord preserve us! There’s Khapun again hurrying to the city after -his prey. Look at him, the unholy brute, how late he is this time! It’s -past midnight already, and he’s just starting out.” - -While the miller was standing there staring up at the sky, the cloud, -which was now as large as an eagle, circled over the mill and began to -descend. Out of it came a humming sound like out of a huge swarm of -bees that has left its hive and is hovering over a garden. - -“What! Is he going to rest on my dam again?” thought the miller. “What -a habit he makes of it now! Wait a bit, mister! I’ll put up a cross -there next year, and then you won’t come stopping at my dam on your -journey like a gentleman at an inn. But what is he making that noise -for, like those rattling kites children fly? I must hide under the -sycamores again, and see what he’s going to do next.” - -But before he had had time to reach the trees, the miller looked up and -nearly shrieked aloud with terror. He saw his guest hovering right over -the mill holding--what? You will never guess what the devil held in his -clutches. - -It was Yankel the Jew! Yes, he had brought back the selfsame Yankel -whom he had carried away the year before. He was holding him tight by -the back, and in Yankel’s hands was a huge bundle tied up in a sheet. -The devil and Yankel were abusing one another in the air, and making as -much fuss as ten Jews in a bazaar squabbling over one peasant. - -The devil dropped on to the dam like a stone. If it hadn’t been for -his soft bundle every bone in Yankel’s body would certainly have been -broken to pieces. As soon as they touched the ground both jumped to -their feet and went at it again, hammer and tongs. - -“Oi, oi! What a dirty, foul trick!” screamed Yankel. “Couldn’t you have -let me down more gently? I suppose you knew you had a living man in -your claws?” - -“I wish you and your bundle had gone right through the earth!” - -“Pooh! What harm does my little bundle do you? You don’t have to carry -it.” - -“Your _little_ bundle indeed! A whole mountain of trash! I have only -just managed to drag you back. Oo-ff! There was nothing about this in -our contract.” - -“But when has it ever been known that a man went on a journey without -any baggage? If you carry a man you must carry his things too; -that’s understood without any contract. I see! You’ve been trying to -cheat poor Yankel the Jew from the very start, and that’s why you’re -quarrelling now!” - -“Huh! Any one who tried to cheat you, you old fox, wouldn’t live three -days! I’m precious sorry I ever agreed to anything!” - -“And do you think I am perfectly delighted to have made your -acquaintance? Oi, vei! You’d better tell me yourself what our contract -was. But you may have forgotten it, so I’ll remind you. We made a bet. -Perhaps you will say we didn’t make a bet? That would be a nice trick!” - -“Who said we didn’t make a bet? Did I say we didn’t?” - -“And how could you say we didn’t, when we made it right here in this -very place? Perhaps you don’t remember what the bet was, as I do. You -said: Jews are usurers, Jews sell the people vodka, Jews have pity on -their own people but on no one else; that’s why every one wishes them -to the devil. Of course, perhaps you didn’t say that, and perhaps I -didn’t say in answer: there stands a miller behind that very sycamore -tree who, if he had any pity for Jews, would shout to you now and say: -‘Drop him, Mr. Devil; he has a wife, he has children!’ But he won’t do -it. That was number one!” - -“How could the wretch have guessed that?” thought the miller; but the -devil said: - -“Very well; number one!” - -“And then I said--don’t you remember?--I said: as soon as I’ve gone -the miller will open a tavern and will begin selling diluted vodka. He -lends money already at a fine rate of interest. That was number two!” - -“All right; number two!” the devil agreed, but the miller scratched his -head and thought: - -“How could the infernal brute have guessed all that?” - -“And I went on to say that, as a matter of fact, Christians did wish -us to the devil. But do you think, said I, that if one of us Jews were -here now and saw what you want to do to me he wouldn’t raise a fine -riot? But every one you ask will say of the miller in a year: the devil -fly away with him! That was number three!” - -“All right; number three. I don’t deny it.” - -“And a fine business it would be if you did deny it! What sort of an -honest Hebrew devil would you be after that? Tell me now what you -agreed to do on your part.” - -“I have done all I agreed. I have left you alive for a year; number -one. I have brought you back here; number two----” - -“And what about number three? What are you going to do about that?” - -“What do you think I’m going to do? If you win the bet I’ll let you go -scot free.” - -“And my losses? Don’t you know that you owe me for my losses?” - -“Losses? What losses can you have had when we allowed you to do -business with us for a whole year without paying a license? You -wouldn’t have made as much profit in three years on earth. Just think -for yourself: I carried you off in your shirt without even a pair of -shoes to your feet, and look what a big bundle you’ve brought back! -Where did you get it from if you made nothing but losses?” - -“Oi, vei! There you are scolding me about my bundle again! Whatever I -made there by trading is my own business. Did you count my profits? I -tell you I made nothing but losses out of my dealings with you, besides -losing a year here on earth.” - -“Oh, you swindler you!” shouted the devil. - -“I a swindler? No, you’re a swindler yourself, you thief, you liar, you -scab!” - -And they began again to wrangle so violently that their words became -quite unintelligible. They waved their arms, their skull-caps quivered, -and they stood up on tip-toe like two cocks preparing to fight. The -devil was the first to regain control of himself. - -“But we don’t yet know who has won the bet! It is true that the miller -didn’t take pity on you, but we haven’t decided the other points yet. -We haven’t asked the people whether he opened a tavern or not.” - -“I have opened two!” the miller thought, scratching his head again. -“Oh, why didn’t I wait a year? Then Yankel would have been sent to the -devil for good, but now something disagreeable may come of it.” - -He looked round at his mill. Couldn’t he possibly slip away to the -village by crawling behind it? But just as he was contemplating this -move, the sound of muttering and of uncertain footsteps came to his -ears from the wood. Yankel threw his bundle over his shoulder, and -ran to the very sycamore tree where the miller was hiding. The miller -hardly had time to slip behind a big willow tree before the devil -and Yankel were both under the sycamore, and at that moment Gavrilo -appeared at the far end of the dam. Gavrilo’s coat was in tatters and -was hanging off one shoulder; his hat was on one side of his head, and -his bare feet were continually quarrelling with one another. If one -wanted to go to the right, the other, out of contrariness, tried to go -to the left. One pulled one way and the other the other, until the poor -man’s head and feet nearly flew off in opposite directions. So the poor -lad staggered along, weaving patterns all across the dam from one side -to the other, but not progressing forward very fast. - -The devil saw that Gavrilo was full, so he came out and stood in the -middle of the dam just as he was. Why the devil need any one stand on -ceremony with a drunkard? - -“Good evening, good fellow!” he called. “Where did you get so full?” - -As he said this, the miller noticed for the first time how miserable -and ragged Gavrilo had grown during the last year. And it was all -because he drank up at his master’s tavern everything that he earned -from his master. It was long since he had seen any money; he took it -all out in vodka. - -The workman walked right up to the devil, saying: - -“Whoa there! What has come over these devilish feet of mine? When I -want them to walk, they stop; when they see any one standing under my -very nose, they rush on ahead. Who are you?” - -“With your permission, I am the devil.” - -“Wha-at? I believe you’re lying. Well, I never! But perhaps you are -right after all! There are your horns and your tail, just as they ought -to be. But why do you wear ringlets hanging down your cheeks?” - -“To tell you the truth, I’m the Hebrew devil.” - -“Aha! There’s a marvel for you! If I were to tell people I had seen -your honour no one would believe me. Wasn’t it you who carried off our -Yankel last year?” - -“Yes, it was I.” - -“And whom are you after now? Not me? If you are, I swear I’ll yell. -Yes, I’ll yell like mad. You don’t know what a voice I have.” - -“Come, don’t scream for nothing, good fellow. What good would you be to -me?” - -“Then perhaps it’s the miller you want? If you’d like me to call him, I -will. But no, wait a bit. Who would be our inn-keeper if you took him -away?” - -“Does he keep an inn?” - -“Does he? He keeps two: one in the village and one by the side of the -road.” - -“Ha! ha! ha! And is that why you would be sorry to lose the miller?” - -“Oi, what a loud laugh you have! Ha! I’m not the fellow to be sorry on -the miller’s account. No, I didn’t mean that at all. He’s not a man to -be sorry for. He thinks poor Gavrilo’s a fool. And he’s right too. I’m -not very clever--don’t think ill of me for it--but still, when I eat I -don’t put my porridge in another man’s mouth, but into my own. And if I -get married it will be for myself, and if I don’t get married it will -be for myself too. Am I right or not?” - -“You’re right, you’re right, but I don’t yet know what you’re driving -at.” - -“Hee, hee, perhaps you don’t know because you don’t need to. But I need -to know, and I do know why he wants to get me married. Oi, I know it -very well, even though I’m not very bright. When you carried Yankel -away that time I was sorry to see him go, and I said to my master: -Well, who is going to keep the inn for us now? And he answered: Bah, -you fool, do you think some one won’t turn up? Perhaps I’ll keep it -myself! That’s why I say now: take the miller if you want him; we’ll -find some one else to be a Jew in his place. And now let me tell you, -my good man--good gracious, your honour, don’t think ill of me for -calling a foul fiend a man!--and now let me tell you something: I’m -getting terribly sleepy. Do as you please, but catch him yourself; I’m -going to bed, I am, because I’m not very well. That will be splendid. -Ah!” - -Gavrilo’s legs began weaving again, and he had hardly opened the door -of the mill before he fell down and began to snore. - -The devil laughed merrily, and, going to the edge of the dam, beckoned -to Yankel where he stood under the sycamore tree. - -“You seem to have won, Yankel,” he shouted. “It looks very much like -it. But give me something to wear, all the same; I’ll pay you for it.” - -Yankel took a pair of breeches to the light and looked them over to be -sure he wasn’t giving the devil a new pair, and while he was busy with -them, an ox-cart appeared on the road leading out of the wood. The oxen -were sleepily nodding their heads, the wheels were quietly squeaking, -and in the cart lay a peasant, Opanas the Slow, without a coat, without -a hat, without boots, bawling a song at the top of his voice. - -Opanas was a good peasant, but the poor fellow sorely loved vodka. -Whenever he dressed up to go anywhere Kharko would be sure to call to -him from his look-out at the inn-door: - -“Won’t you drink a little mugful, Opanas? What’s your hurry?” - -And Opanas would drink it. - -Then, when he had crossed the dam and reached the village, the miller -himself would call to him from the door of the other tavern: - -“Won’t you come in and have a little mugful, Opanas? What’s the hurry?” - -And Opanas would have another drink there. First thing you knew he -would turn home without having been anywhere else at all. - -Yes, he was a good peasant, but fate had ordained him always to fall -between the two taverns. And yet he was a merry fellow and was always -singing songs. That is man’s nature. When he has drunk up everything he -possesses and knows that an angry wife is waiting for him at home, he -will make up a song and think he has got rid of his troubles. And so it -was with Opanas. He was lying in his wagon singing so loudly that even -the frogs jumped into the water as he drove up, and this was his song: - - “Oxen, oxen, how you crawl, - Walking down the road; - If I stood up, I should fall, - Oi, I’d surely fall. - I’ve drunk up my coat and hat, - The boots from off my feet; - In the inn, I’ll swear to that, - The miller’s vodka’s sweet. - -“Oi, what is that devilish brute standing right in the middle of the -dam for, keeping my oxen from crossing? If I wasn’t too tired to get -out of the cart, I’d show him how to plant himself there in the middle -of the road. Gee, gee, gee-up!” - -“Stop a minute, my good man!” said the devil very sweetly. “I want to -have a minute’s talk with you.” - -“A minute’s talk? All right then, talk away, only I’m in a hurry. The -tavern at Novokamensk will soon be closed so that no one can get in. -But I don’t know what you want to talk about; I don’t know you. Well?” - -“About whom were you singing that pretty song?” - -“Thank you for praising it! I was singing about the miller that lives -in this mill, but whether the song was pretty or not is my own affair, -because I was singing it to myself. Perhaps some people would fly when -they heard the song, perhaps some would cry. Gee, gee, gee-up! What! -Are you still standing there?” - -“I’m still standing here.” - -“What for?” - -“You said in your song that the miller’s vodka is good. Is that so?” - -“Aha, now I see how sly you are! You begin quarrelling with a man’s -song before he has sung it to the end. That’s the devil’s own trick! -You don’t know the proverb, I see: don’t go to hell before your father; -if you do, you’ll be sorry. If that’s how you feel, I’d better sing my -song to the end, so here goes: - - Yes, the vodka in the inn - Is good as any sold; - Two parts of it are liquor, - One is water cold. - -“Get out of the way, then! What are you standing there for? What do -you want now? Wait a minute till I get out of my wagon and find out -whether you’re going to stand there much longer! What would you think -if I gave you a taste of my stick, hey?” - -“I’m going in a minute, my good man, only tell me one thing more. What -would you think if the devil flew away with your miller here as he flew -away with Yankel?” - -“What would I think? I wouldn’t think anything at all. He’ll get him -some day, that’s certain; he’ll surely get him. But you’re still -standing there, I see. Take care, I’m climbing out of my wagon! Look, -I’ve already raised one leg!” - -“All right, all right, go along with you if you’re as cross as all -that!” - -“Are you out of the way?” - -“Yes.” - -“Gee, gee, gee-up!” - -The oxen shook their horns, the yoke and axles creaked, the wagon -trembled, and Opanas continued his song: - - “Oxen, oxen, how you crawl, - Hurry up and trot. - The miller has my coat and wheels, - So now he has the lot.” - -The wheels bumped down off the dam, and Opanas’ song died away behind -the hill. - -But before it had quite died away another song rang out from across the -river. A ringing chorus of women’s voices came streaming through the -night, first from afar, and then from in the wood. A party of women -and girls, who had been gathering in the harvest on a distant farm, -were now on their way home late at night, and were singing to give -themselves courage in the wood. - -The devil at once slipped to Yankel’s side under the willow tree. - -“Come, give me something more to wear, quick!” - -Yankel handed him a heap of rags. The devil hurled them to the ground, -and seized the bundle. - -“Here! What do you mean by giving me these rags as if I were a beggar? -I’d be ashamed to be seen in them. Give me something respectable!” - -The devil seized what he wanted, folded his wings, which were as soft -as a bat’s, in a second, jumped like a flash into a pair of blue -breeches as wide as the sea, threw on the rest of his clothes, drew his -belt tight, and covered his horns with a high fur hat. Only his tail -hung out over the top of one boot, and trailed along in the sand like a -snake. - -Then he smacked his lips, stamped his foot, stuck his arms akimbo, and -went out to meet the lasses, looking for all the world like any young -townsman, or perhaps some would-be gentleman steward. - -He planted himself in the middle of the dam. - -The song rang out nearer and nearer and clearer and clearer, floating -away under the bright moon until it seemed as if it must wake the -whole of the sleeping world. Then it suddenly broke off short. - -The young women poured out of the wood as poppies might pour out of -a girl’s apron, saw the long-tailed dandy standing before them, and -instantly huddled together in a group at the farther end of the dam. - -“Who is that standing there?” asked one of the girls. - -“It’s the miller,” answered another. - -“The miller! Why, it doesn’t look like him one bit!” - -“Perhaps it’s his workman.” - -“Who ever saw a workman dressed like that?” - -“Tell us who you are if you’re not a bad spirit!” called the widow -Buchilikha, evidently the boldest of the party. - -The devil bowed to them from a distance, and then approached, cringing -and scraping like any little upstart who tries to appear a gentleman. - -“Don’t be afraid, my birdies,” said he. “I’m a young man, but I won’t -do you any harm. Come on, and don’t be afraid.” - -Each trying to push the other ahead, the women and girls stepped on to -the dam, and soon surrounded the devil. Ah, there is nothing pleasanter -than to be surrounded by a dozen or so frolicsome lasses bombarding -you with swift glances, nudging one another with their elbows, and -giggling. The devil’s heart was beginning to leap and sparkle a -little, like birch bark in a fire; he hardly knew what to do or where -to turn. And the girls kept laughing at him louder and louder. - -“That’s right, that’s right, little birdies!” thought the miller, -peering out from behind his gnarled willow-tree. “Remember, my duckies, -how many songs Philipko has sung with you, how many dances he has led! -See what trouble I’m in! Save me; I’m caught like a fly in a cobweb!” - -He thought that if only they were to give the devil one little pinch -the fiend would sink into the ground. - -But old Buchilikha stopped the girls and exclaimed: - -“Get along with you, little magpies, you’ve laughed at the poor lad -till his nose hangs down and his arms are limp. Tell us, young fellow, -for whom are you waiting here at the edge of the pond?” - -“For the miller.” - -“Then you’re a friend of his?” - -“A plague upon any friend of mine that’s like him!” the miller tried to -cry, but his words stuck in his throat, and the devil replied: - -“He’s no very great friend of mine, but I can call him an old -acquaintance.” - -“Is it long since you’ve seen him?” - -“Yes, a long time.” - -“Then you wouldn’t recognise him now. He used to be a nice lad, but he -holds his head so high now that you couldn’t touch his nose with a -pitchfork.” - -“Really?” - -“Yes, indeed. It’s true, isn’t it, girls?” - -“It’s true, true, true!” chattered the whole bevy. - -“Tut, tut, not quite so loud!” cried the devil, putting his fingers in -his ears. “Tell me: what has happened to him, and since when has he -changed?” - -“Since he grew rich.” - -“And began to lend money.” - -“And opened a tavern.” - -“He and his horrid Kharko have fuddled my husband Opanas so that the -poor man never goes anywhere now except to the tavern.” - -“He has ruined our husbands and fathers with his drink.” - -“Oi, oi, he’s a misery to us all, the horrid miller!” screamed one of -the band, and in place of their songs, a chorus of wails and women’s -lamentations rang out across the river. - -Philip rather scratched his head to hear the way the young women were -interceding for him. But the devil’s mind now seemed to be quite made -up. He glanced at the girls out of one corner of his eye and rubbed his -hands together. - -“And that isn’t all!” shouted the widow Buchilikha louder than the -loudest. “Have you heard what he wanted to do to the widow’s Galya?” - -“Faugh!” spat the miller. “What a damned lot of magpies they are! What -need to tell what they’re not asked about? And how in the world did -they find it out? Though it only happened in the village to-night, they -have heard the whole story in the hay-fields! Why on earth does God -allow women to live in this world?” - -“And what did my friend try to do to the widow’s daughter?” asked the -devil, looking about him as if he weren’t particularly interested in -the story. - -So the magpies went on to tell him everything, talking all at once, and -laid the whole affair before him from beginning to end. - -The devil shook his head. - -“Oi, oi, oi! That’s bad, very bad. I don’t suppose any one ever heard -of your former inn-keeper Yankel doing anything like that?” - -“Oh, what Jew ever thought of doing such a thing?” - -“Oh, no, never!” - -“I see, my daisies, my little peaches, that you don’t love my friend -very much.” - -“Let him get the love of all the devils; he needn’t expect any from us!” - -“Oi, oi, oi, you don’t wish him much good, I see!” - -“May the fever take him and shake him to pieces!” - -“May he follow his uncle into the pond!” - -“May the devil carry him off as he carried off Yankel!” - -They all burst out laughing. - -“You are right, Olena; he is worse than a Jew.” - -“At least the Jew was a decent fellow; he let the girls alone and lived -with his Sarah.” - -The devil actually jumped in his tracks. - -“Thank you, thank you, my birdies, for your friendly words. Isn’t it -time for you to be going on?” - -With that he threw back his head like a cock that intends to give an -extra loud crow, and burst into a fit of uncontrollable laughter. He -laughed so loud that all the evil spirits on the bed of the river woke -up, and circles began spreading across the surface of the pond. But the -girls shied away from him like a flock of sparrows into which some one -has thrown a stone, and vanished as if the wind had suddenly blown them -off the dam. - -The goose-flesh ran up and down the miller’s back, and he stared down -the road that led to the village. - -“The best thing for me to do,” he thought, “is to make off after those -girls as fast as my legs will carry me. I used to be able to run with -the best.” - -But at that moment he suddenly felt relieved, for he saw some one -coming toward the mill-dam. And it wasn’t just any one, either, but his -own servant Kharko. - -“A miss is as good as a mile!” he thought. “There is my man!” - - - - -X - - -The servant was barefooted; he was wearing a red shirt; a cap without a -brim was stuck on the back of his head, and on a stick he was carrying -Opanas’ new boots, which were dripping tar all over the dam. - -“What a hurry he’s in!” thought the miller. “He’s got hold of the boots -already. But never mind, all my hopes are centred on him now.” - -As soon as the servant caught sight of a stranger on the dam he -instantly thought that here was some thieving tramp waiting to steal -his boots. So he stopped a few steps from Khapun and said: - -“You’d better not come any nearer, I warn you! I won’t give them up!” - -“What’s the matter with you? Come to your senses, good man! Haven’t I -boots of my own? Look, they are better than yours!” - -“Then why have you planted yourself there by night, like a crooked -willow tree by a pond?” - -“Well, you see, I wanted to ask you a question.” - -“Splendid! A riddle is it, eh? Who told you I could answer riddles -better than any one else?” - -“Ha, ha, I’ve heard people say so!” - -The soldier set down his boots, took out his tobacco-pouch, and began -filling his pipe. Then he struck a light with a flint, and, blowing out -a thick cloud of smoke from under his nose, said: - -“Now, then, spout it out. What’s your riddle?” - -“It isn’t exactly a riddle. I wanted to ask you who you think is the -best man in this neighbourhood?” - -“I am!” - -“And why do you think that? Isn’t there any one here better than you -are?” - -“You ask me what I think. Very well, I answer that I won’t give the -first place to any one.” - -“You’re right. And the miller, what sort of a man is he?” - -“The miller?” - -The soldier blew out of his mouth a cloud of smoke that looked as large -in the moonlight as the tail of a white horse. Then he eyed the devil -askance and asked: - -“You’re not a Customs officer, are you?” - -“No!” - -“And you’re not in the police--a detective, by any chance?” - -“No, no, I tell you! What, a clever chap like you, and you can’t even -see when a man’s just an ordinary fellow and when he isn’t?” - -“Who said I couldn’t? I can see through and through you. I only asked -that on the chance. And now, let me see; you asked me what sort of man -the miller was?” - -“Yes.” - -“Well, he’s just about medium height, neither very large nor very -small; a good average.” - -“Oh, that’s not what I wanted to know!” - -“Isn’t it? What more do you want me to tell you? Perhaps you would like -to know where his warts are, if he has any?” - -“You’re trying to throw dust in my eyes I see, but I’m in a hurry. Tell -me in plain words: is the miller a good man or a bad one?” - -The soldier blew another huge tail of smoke out of his mouth and said: - -“What a hasty fellow you are! You like to eat, but you won’t chew.” - -The devil opened his eyes wide, and the miller’s heart jumped for joy. - -“What a tongue that boy has!” he thought. “And yet how often have I -wished that it might drop off. But now it has come in useful. How he is -roasting the devil!” - -“You like to eat, but you won’t chew, I tell you!” the soldier -repeated sternly. “You want me to tell you whether the miller is a -good man or not. Every man’s good in my opinion. I’ve eaten bread from -many a stove, friend. I wouldn’t even cough where you would die of -suffocation. Do you think you’ve struck a fool in me?” - -“Splendid! Splendid! Give it to him hard!” the miller said to himself, -dancing with joy. “My name isn’t Philip the miller if the devil doesn’t -look more foolish than a sheep before half an hour is over! I read so -fast in church that no one can understand me, but he talks quietly, and -yet just listen to what he is saying!” - -And in fact the poor devil was scratching his head so hard that he was -nearly knocking his hat off. - -“Hold on, soldier!” he exclaimed. “You and I seem to run on and on and -never get anywhere. We’re all tangled up.” - -“I don’t know about you, but there’s no tangle I can’t get out of.” - -“But look here; I asked you whether the miller was a good man or not, -and see where you’ve led me!” - -“Then let me ask you a question: is water good or not?” - -“Water? What’s the matter with water?” - -“But if there was kvass[J] about you would turn up your nose at water, -wouldn’t you? Water would seem tasteless, then, wouldn’t it?” - -“Yes, perhaps it would.” - -“And if there was beer on the table you wouldn’t drink kvass, would -you?” - -“No, certainly not.” - -“And if some one brought you a mug of gorelka you wouldn’t look at -beer, eh?” - -“You’re quite right.” - -“Very well then, you see!” - -The devil broke out into a sweat, and the tail hanging out from under -his coat beat the ground till it actually raised a cloud of dust from -the dam. The soldier threw the stick with his boots on it over his -shoulder and was preparing to take his departure when the devil thought -of a way he might catch him. He stepped a few steps to one side, and -said: - -“Well,--go along, go along! I shall wait here a little while longer in -case Kharko the soldier should happen to come by.” - -The soldier stopped. - -“What do you want with him?” - -“Nothing much, but they tell me that Kharko is a bright fellow and that -he knows a thing or two! I thought at first you were he. But now I see -I was wrong. One simply goes round and round in a circle with you, and -can’t get going to save one’s life.” - -The soldier set down his boots. - -“Come on, ask me another question!” - -“Oh, what’s the use?” - -“Try!” - -“Very well, then: tell me, whom did you like the best, Yankel the -inn-keeper, or the miller?” - -“Why didn’t you ask me that at once? I don’t like people that hunt for -their beards alongside their noses. Some people would rather walk ten -versts through the fields than go one verst by the straight road. But -I’ll answer you straight to the point, as they say. Yankel kept one -inn, but the miller keeps two.” - -“Oh, hang him, he needn’t have said that!” thought the miller, -miserably. “It would have been ever so much better if he hadn’t -referred to it.” - -But the soldier continued: - -“When I worked for Yankel, I wore bast shoes, now I wear boots!” - -“From where did you get them?” - -“From where, eh? Our business is like a well with two buckets. One -bucket fills and the other grows empty. One goes up and the other goes -down. I used to wear bast shoes; now I wear boots. Opanas used to wear -boots; now he goes barefoot because he’s a fool. The bucket comes to -the wise man full and goes away empty. Now do you understand?” - -The devil listened attentively, and said: - -“Wait a minute! At last we seem to be getting somewhere!” - -“But I’ve been telling you the same thing all along. If you call Yankel -kvass, then the miller is beer; but if you were to give me a glass of -good vodka, I should let the beer alone.” - -The tip of the devil’s tail skipped about so madly on the sand that -Kharko noticed it at last. He blew a puff of smoke right into the -devil’s face, and put his foot on the tail as if by accident. The devil -jumped, and yelped like a great dog. Both he and Kharko took fright; -they opened their eyes wide, and stood for half a minute staring at -one another without saying a word. - -At last Kharko whistled in that insolent way of his, and said: - -“Ah, ha! ah, ha! So that’s the game, is it?” - -“And what did you think?” asked the devil. - -“Now I know the kind of a queer bird you are!” - -“I’m what you see I am.” - -“Then you’re the one who--last year--?” - -“Of course.” - -“And you’re--after him?” - -“You’re right. And what do you think of my plan?” - -Kharko stretched his limbs, blew a puff of smoke, and answered: - -“Take him! I won’t cry over him. I’m a poor man. It’s none of my -business. I’ll sit in the inn smoking my pipe till a third one comes -along.” - -Once more the devil roared with laughter, but the soldier only slung -his boots across his back and walked rapidly away. As he passed the -sycamore tree the miller heard him muttering to himself: - -“So that’s the game, is it? He’s carried off one and now he’s come -back for the other. Well, it’s none of my business. When the devil got -the Jew the miller got the goods. Now he’s come for the miller and -the goods will be mine. A soldier is his own master. Now that I’ve -the business in my own hands, let’s see if I can’t keep it. I’ll not -be poor Kharko any longer, but Mr. Khariton Tregubov. Only I’m not a -fool. No temptation on earth will ever take me on to this dam at night.” - -And with that he began climbing the hill. - -The miller stared from side to side. Who would help him now? Not a soul -was in sight. Darkness was falling; a frog was croaking sleepily in the -mud; a bittern was booming angrily in the reeds. The edge of the moon -was peeping over the woods as if asking: “What will become of Philip -the miller now?” - -It looked at him, winked, and set behind the trees. - -The devil stood on the dam holding his sides with laughter. His shouts -of merriment shook the floury dust out of every cranny in the old mill; -all the spirits of the forest and pond awoke and came flitting toward -him, some floating like shadows out of the wood, some hanging like -filmy clouds over the water. The pond stirred, streaks of swirling -white vapour rose from it, and ripples ran in circles across its -surface. The miller gave it one look, and his blood ran cold: a blue -face with dull, staring eyes was glaring up at him out of the water, -its long whiskers waving like the antennæ of a water-beetle. Who could -it be but his uncle, rising from the pond and coming straight toward -the sycamore tree? - -Yankel the Jew had long since crept silently out on to the dam, picked -up the clothes which the devil had discarded, slipped across to the -sycamore tree, and hastily tied up his bundle. There was no more -mention of losses now; any man would have been afraid to mention them, -I can tell you! Losses be hanged! Yankel hoisted his bundle on to his -back and shuffled quietly away, following the others along the path -that led from the mill to the village. - -The miller made a rush for his mill; once there, at least he would be -able to lock himself in or else wake his workman! But he had hardly -quitted his tree before the devil jumped after him. Philip dashed into -the mill, slammed the door, rushed into his room, hurriedly lit a -light, and fell down on the floor screaming with might and main, just -like--what do you think?--the Jews in their synagogue! - -And the devil circled over the mill, stuck his inquisitive nose in at -the window, and couldn’t make out how to get at the tempting morsel -before him. - -Suddenly, bang! Something dropped to the floor with a thump as if a -huge cat had jumped into the room. That confounded devil had come down -the chimney! The fiend sprang to his feet, and next instant the miller -felt him sitting on his back, digging his claws into his flesh. - -What could he do? - -Suddenly, another bang! Darkness fell, and the devil was dragging the -miller through a black, narrow hole. The miller smelt clay, clouds of -soot rose about him, and all at once he saw lying below him the chimney -and the roof of the mill, growing smaller and smaller every second, as -if they and the dam and the sycamore trees and the pond were falling -into a bottomless pit. And there lay the sky, reflected upside-down in -the calm mill-pond spread out below them as smooth as a platter, and -in it the peaceful stars were twinkling as they had always twinkled -before. And the miller saw flying across those dark blue depths a form -that looked first like a hawk, and then like a crow, and then like a -sparrow, and then like a large fly. - -“He is taking me ever so high!” thought the miller. “There go your -profits for you, Philipko, and your inns, and all your fine show! Is -there no Christian soul who will call to him: Drop it, it is mine?” - -But Christian soul there was none! Below him slept the mill, and out of -the pond the monstrous face of his uncle alone was glaring at him with -glassy eyes, laughing to itself and waving its whiskers. - -Farther on the Jew was still crawling up the hill, stooping under his -heavy white bundle. Half way up the ascent stood Kharko, shading his -eyes with his hand and gazing up at the sky. - -The scattered band of girls had overtaken Opanas and his oxen. They -were flying along like lunatics and Opanas was staring straight up at -the sky as he lay in his cart. Though his heart was kind, his eyes were -blind with vodka, and his tongue was as heavy as lead. There was no -one, no one, who would cry: Drop it, it is mine! - -And there lay the village. There was the tavern, closed for the night; -there stood the sleeping cottages, and there lay the gardens. There, -too, stood the tall poplar tree and the widow’s little khata. Old -Prisia and her daughter were sitting on a bench at the door, weeping -and embracing one another. And why were they weeping? Was it because -next day the miller was going to drive them out of their native hut? - -The miller’s heart leaped. At least these two might give him a kind -thought! He plucked up courage and shouted: - -“Don’t cry, Galya; don’t cry, little sweetheart! I’ll forgive you all -your debts and the interest, too! Oh, I’m in trouble, in worse trouble -than you are. The Evil One is carrying me away as a spider carries a -little fly.” - -Tender and sensitive is the heart of a girl! It did not seem possible -that Galya could have heard the miller’s cry from such a great -distance, but she shuddered nevertheless, and raised her dark, weeping -eyes to heaven. - -“Farewell, farewell, my beautiful black eyes,” the miller sighed, and -at that instant he saw the girl’s hands clutch her breast and heard her -rend the air with a piercing scream: - -“Drop it, foul fiend! Drop it, it is mine!” - -The sound tore at the devil’s ears like the mighty swing of a -brandished chain. His wings fluttered feebly, his claws relaxed their -hold, and Philip floated down like a feather, turning from side to side. - -The devil dropped after him like a stone. But as soon as he reached him -and grabbed him afresh, Galya shouted again: - -“Drop it, accursed one, it is mine!” - -The devil dropped the miller, and once more the poor man floated -downward. So it happened three times, while the marsh lying between the -mill and the village spread ever wider and wider beneath them. - -Splash! The miller fell into the soft mud with such a bump that the -bog bounced as if it had been on springs, and threw the miller ten -feet into the air. He fell down again, jumped up, and took to his -heels helter-skelter as fast as his legs could carry him. As he ran he -screamed at the top of his lungs, feeling every second that the devil -was going to grab him. - -He reached the first hut on the outskirts of the village, flew the -hedge at a bound, and found himself in the middle of the widow’s -cottage. Here he came to his senses for the first time. - -“Well, I am in your cottage, thank God!” he said. - - * * * * * - -Just think of it, good people, what a prank he had played! There he was -early in the morning, before sunrise, before even the cows had been -driven out to pasture, bareheaded, barefooted, in rags, plunging into -the hut of two unmarried women, a widow and a young girl! Yes, and -the fact that he was hatless was a small matter; it was lucky indeed -he hadn’t lost something else on the way; if he had, he would have -disgraced the poor women forever! And on top of it all what did he say? -“Thank God, I am in your cottage!” - -The old woman could only wave her arms, but Galya jumped up in her -nightgown from a bench, threw on a dress, and cried to the miller: - -“What are you doing here, you wicked man? Are you so drunk that you -can’t find your own hut, and so come rushing into ours, hey?” - -But the miller stood in front of her looking at her with gentle if -slightly staring eyes, and said: - -“Come on, hit me as hard as you can!” - -And she hit him once: bang! - -“Hit me again!” - -So she hit him again. - -“That’s right. Do you want to hit me any more?” - -So she hit him a third time. Then, when she saw that not only did he -not mind, but stood there looking at her with gentle eyes, she threw up -her hands and burst into tears. - -“Oi, misery me, poor orphan that I am, who will come to my help? Oi, -what a man this is! Isn’t it enough for him that he has deceived a -young girl like me, and that he wants to turn Turk, and has made every -one gossip about me, and disgraced me before the whole village? Look -at him, look at him, good people! I have hit him three times and he -won’t even turn away. Oi, what can I do with a man like him, tell me, -somebody, do!” - -But the miller asked: - -“Are you going to hit me again or not? Tell me truly. If you aren’t, -I’m going to sit down on that bench, because I’m tired.” - -Galya’s hands were approaching the miller again, but the old woman -guessed there was something out of the ordinary about the business, and -said to her daughter: - -“Wait a bit, child! Why do you go on slapping the man’s neck without -even stopping to ask him a question? Can’t you see that the lad’s a -little bit off his head? Tell me, neighbour, where did you come from -so suddenly, and what do you mean by saying: Thank God I am in your -cottage, when you know you oughtn’t to be here at all?” - -The miller rubbed his eyes and said: - -“Tell me the honest truth, Auntie, am I asleep? Am I still alive? Has -one night or one year passed since yesterday evening? And did I come -here from the mill or did I drop from the sky?” - -“Tut, tut, man! Cross yourself with your left hand! What nonsense -you’re talking. You must have been dreaming!” - -“I don’t know, good mother, I don’t know. I can’t make head or tail of -it myself.” - -He was about to sit down on a bench, when he caught sight through the -window of Yankel the inn-keeper, crawling along with a huge bundle on -his back. The miller jumped up, pointed toward the window, and asked -the two women: - -“Who is that walking along there?” - -“Why, that’s our Yankel!” - -“And what is he carrying?” - -“A bundle from the city.” - -“Then why do you say I’ve been dreaming? Don’t you see that the Jew has -come back? I saw him at the mill a moment ago, carrying that very same -bundle.” - -“And why shouldn’t he have come back?” - -“Because the devil carried him off last year. Khapun, you know.” - -Well, in a word, there was a great deal of amazement when the miller -told of all that had happened to him. And in the meanwhile a crowd was -beginning to collect in the road in front of the cottage; the people -looked in at the window, and began making slanderous comments. - -“Look at that!” they said. “There’s a nice state of affairs! The miller -comes tearing across the fields without a hat, without boots, all -ragged and torn, and runs straight into the widow’s cottage, and there -he sits with them now!” - -“Hey! Tell us, good man, whom have you come to see all dressed up like -that? Is it Old Prisia, or young Galya?” - -You will agree, I am sure, that no one can allow a poor girl to be -gossiped about like that. The miller was simply obliged to marry her. -But Philip has confessed to me many a time himself that he had always -loved the widow’s Galya, and that after the night when she rescued -him from the foul fiend’s clutches, she grew so dear to him that he -wouldn’t have let himself be driven away from her with a stick. - -They are living at the mill now, and already have several children. The -miller has forgotten his inn and no longer lends money at interest. And -whenever a voice in his heart whispers to him to wish Yankel the Jew -out of the village to the devil, he only makes a contemptuous gesture. - -“And the inn?” He used sometimes to ask people after his adventure. -“Will it still remain?” - -“Of course the inn will remain. What should become of it?” - -“But who will keep it? Perhaps you are thinking of doing it yourself?” - -“Yes, perhaps I am.” - -And at that the miller would only whistle. - - - - -XI - - -Yes, that is the adventure that befell the miller. Such a strange -adventure it was that to this day no one has decided whether it really -happened or not. If you say it was all a falsehood, I can answer that -the miller was not a man to tell lies. Then, Gavrilo the workman is -still living at the mill, and though he confesses himself that he was -thoroughly drunk that night, he remembers clearly that the miller -opened the door for him, and that his master’s face was whiter than -flour. And Yankel came back at dawn, and Opanas reached home drunk and -without his boots, so it seems as if the miller could not really have -dreamt it after all. - -But then, again, take this: how could it be true, when the whole affair -would have taken a year to happen and yet the miller ran barefoot into -Galya’s cottage the very next morning? A great many people actually saw -him, and wondered why the miller was tearing barefoot across the fields -to visit the girl. - -The best plan, I think, is not to look too closely into the story. -Whether it happened or whether it didn’t, I’ll give you a piece of -advice. If you know a miller, or any man who keeps two taverns and who -abuses the Jews and yet fleeces the people like sheep, tell your friend -this story. I recommend it to you; the plan has been tried. Whether he -gives up his business or not, he will at least bring you a mugful of -vodka that, for once, won’t be diluted with water. - -There are people, of course, and this too has been found to be true, -who will growl at you like dogs as soon as you tell them the story. -People like them I answer with these words: Grumble and growl as much -as you like, but I give you fair warning: take care the same thing -doesn’t happen to you! - -And I say this because, you see, the people of Novokamensk have more -than once seen that very same devil again. Ever since he has had a -taste of the miller, he doesn’t want to go home without some dainty -morsel. So he flies about, peering in every direction like a lost bird. - -Therefore, take care, good people, that something evil doesn’t befall -you. - -And now, good-bye! If I haven’t told the story to suit your taste, -don’t think ill of me, I’m only a plain man. - - - - -TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES: - - - Italicized text is surrounded by underscores: _italics_. - - Obvious typographical errors have been corrected. - - Inconsistencies in hyphenation have been standardized. - - - - -FOOTNOTES: - - -[A] Mahorka: a very cheap smoking mixture made from the stems of -tobacco. - -[B] Taiga: the Siberian forest. - -[C] Toyon: Chief. - -[D] The Polyesie (The Woods), a district in southwestern or Little -Russia. - -[E] Bandura, an ancient oriental musical instrument of the lute family. - -[F] The Little Russians shave their heads bare, leaving only a long -tuft of hair in the middle. - -[G] Gorelka: corn-whiskey. - -[H] An interwoven mass of the stems of herbaceous plants often met with -on the steppes of Russia. - -[I] Ten days after the Jewish New Year, which is celebrated in the -early Autumn, comes Yom Kippur, or the day of Purification, called by -the peasants of Little Russia the “Day of Atonement.” A superstition -exists among them that on this day the Jewish Devil Khapun (the -Snatcher) carries off one Jew each year out of the Synagogue. This -superstition probably had its origin in the extremely impressive -ceremonies which the Jews carry out at this season with extraordinary -zeal under the eyes of the Christian village population. - -[J] Kvass: a foamy, fermented drink, made of brown flour and hops. - - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Makar's Dream and Other Stories, by -Vladimir Galaktionovich Korolenko - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MAKAR'S DREAM AND OTHER STORIES *** - -***** This file should be named 62555-0.txt or 62555-0.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/6/2/5/5/62555/ - -Produced by David E. 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You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of -the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - -Title: Makar's Dream and Other Stories - -Author: Vladimir Galaktionovich Korolenko - -Translator: Marian Fell - -Release Date: October 2, 2020 [EBook #62555] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MAKAR'S DREAM AND OTHER STORIES *** - - - - -Produced by David E. Brown and The Online Distributed -Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was -produced from images generously made available by The -Internet Archive/American Libraries.) - - - - - - -</pre> - - -<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/cover.jpg" width="50%" alt="" /></div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<h1>MAKAR’S DREAM</h1> - -<p class="ph1">AND OTHER STORIES</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/i_frontis.jpg" alt="" /></div> -<p class="caption">VLADIMIR KOROLENKO</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/i_title.jpg" alt="" /></div> - -<hr class="tb" /> -<div class="titlepage"> -<p><span class="xxlarge">MAKAR’S DREAM</span><br /> - -<span class="xlarge">AND OTHER STORIES</span></p> - -<p>BY<br /> -<span class="xlarge">VLADIMIR KOROLENKO</span></p> - -<p>TRANSLATED FROM THE RUSSIAN WITH AN<br /> -INTRODUCTION BY<br /> - -<span class="large">MARIAN FELL</span></p> - -<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/i_titlelogo.jpg" alt="" /></div> - -<p><span class="large">NEW YORK</span><br /> -<span class="xlarge">DUFFIELD AND COMPANY</span><br /> -<span class="large">1916</span></p> -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p class="center"> -<span class="smcap">Copyright, 1916, by</span><br /> -DUFFIELD & CO.</p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_v"></a>[v]</span> -<h2 class="nobreak">INTRODUCTION</h2> -</div> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_vi"></a>[vi]</span></p> - - - - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_vii"></a>[vii]</span> -<p class="ph1">VLADIMIR KOROLENKO</p></div> - - -<p><span class="smcap">The</span> writings of Vladimir Korolenko have been -likened to “a fresh breeze blowing through the heavy -air of a hospital.” The hospital is the pessimistic -literature of the modern Russian intellectuals; the -fresh breeze is the voice of the simple-hearted children -of “Mother Russia.” These are for the most -part tillers of the soil and conquerors of waste -places; peasants, pioneers, and Siberian exiles; they -often belong to the great class of “the insulted and -the injured”: they suffer untold hardships, but their -heads are unbowed and their hearts are full of courage -and the desire for justice. Among them the -great writer’s early life was spent.</p> - -<p>Vladimir Korolenko was born on June 15th, 1853, -in Zhitomir, a small town in Southwestern or Little -Russia. On his father’s side he came of an old Cossack -family, his mother was the daughter of a Polish -landowner of Zhitomir. The boy’s early life was -spent amidst picturesque surroundings; he grew -up among the Poles, Jews, and light-hearted, dark-eyed -peasants that make up the population of Little -Russia, and he never lost the poetic love of nature -and the wholesome sense of humour that were nurtured<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_viii"></a>[viii]</span> -in him under those warm, bright skies. In his -story entitled “In Bad Company” he has vividly described -the romantic little town that was the home of -his childhood. The stern but just judge of that tale -is more or less the prototype of his own father. The -elder Korolenko was distinguished for an impeccable -honesty of practice rare in an official of those times; -consequently, when he died in 1870, he left his widow -and five children without the slightest means of support. -Thanks, however, to the energy of his heroic -mother, Vladimir was enabled at seventeen to enter -the School of Technology in Petrograd.</p> - -<p>Then followed three years of struggle to combine -his schooling with the necessity for earning a living, -during which Korolenko himself says that he does -not know how he managed to escape starvation. -Even a cheap dinner of eighteen copecks or nine -cents was such a luxury to him in those days that -he only treated himself to it six or seven times during -the course of one whole year.</p> - -<p>In 1874 the young student went to Moscow with -ten hard-earned roubles in his pocket and entered -the Petrovski Academy, but he was soon expelled -from that seat of learning for presenting a petition -from his fellow-students to the Director of the College. -He returned to Petrograd where his family -were now living, and he and his brother made a desperate -attempt to support themselves and their -brothers and sisters by proof-reading. The future<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_ix"></a>[ix]</span> -author began sending articles to the newspapers and -magazines, and it was then that occurred the first of -the series of arrests to which he was subjected for -what were considered his advanced social doctrines. -He was sent first to Kronstadt for a year and then -to Viatka; thence he travelled to Perm, and from -Perm to Tomsk; at last he was finally exiled to the -distant eastern Siberian province of Yakutsk.</p> - -<p>There he spent nearly six years, the most valuable, -to him, of his whole life. The vast forest that clothes -those far northeastern marshes, grand, gloomy, and -held forever in the grip of a deadly cold, made an -indelible impression on the imagination of the young -artist. He was profoundly moved by the sorrows -of the half-savage pioneers inhabiting its trackless -solitudes, by the indomitable spirit of his fellow-exiles, -and by the adventurous life of the “brodiagi” -or wanderers, convicts escaped from prison who return -secretly on foot to their “Mother Russia” -across the whole breadth of the Siberian continent.</p> - -<p>Korolenko was released from exile in 1885, and -immediately on his return to Russia published his -beautiful “Makar’s Dream.”</p> - -<p>The success of the story was immediate, the fame -of the author was at once assured. No politics, no -social doctrines were here; the appeal of Makar’s -plea was universal; liberal and conservative critics -alike united in a chorus of praise. The Russian -reading public was charmed by the originality of the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_x"></a>[x]</span> -subject, the radiant conciseness of the author’s style, -and the lyric beauty of the story’s end which illuminates -with deep significance every detail that has -gone before. Poor Makar, most lonely dweller in -the Siberian forest, leading a life of incredible labour -and hardship, finally dies, and for his sins is -condemned at the Judgment of the Great Toyon, or -Chief, to suffer in the life hereafter sorrows and toil -more grievous than any he has known on earth. Here -is the type of “the insulted and the injured” beloved -of Dostoievsky and Tolstoi, but with one supreme -difference: Makar does not suffer misfortune in passive -dejection, he protests. He protests indignantly -against the injustice of the judgment of the Great -Toyon. Life for him has been desperately hard; it -is unjust to judge him by the standards set for the -righteous whom the Toyon loves, “whose faces are -bathed in perfume and whose garments are sewn by -other hands than their own.” This protest, combined -with a warm love for all humanity, was to become -the keynote of Korolenko’s writings.</p> - -<p>His next story, “In Bad Company,” appeared in -the same year, and added still more to the young -author’s popularity. It is a general favourite in -Russia to this day. Though its style is slightly -tainted with a flowery Polish exuberance, the descriptions -of the old feudal ruins are full of poetry, -the children are drawn with sympathy and insight, -and the vagabond Turkevich, in his tragi-comic rôle<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_xi"></a>[xi]</span> -of the Prophet Jeremiah, sounds an unmistakable -note of protest.</p> - -<p>“The Murmuring Forest” was published in 1886, -and is a darkly romantic tale of the dreaming pine -forests of Southern Russia, written in the style of -an ancient legend. Here the protest of the Cossack -Opanas and the forester Raman is blind and rude -and brings death to their highborn oppressor, but -the plot is laid in feudal times and the need of the -serfs was great. The voice of the wind in the tree-tops -dominates the unfolding of the simple story like -a resonant chord, and when at last fierce justice is -done to the tyrant Count, its advent seems as inevitable -as the breaking of the thunder-storm that, -during the whole course of the tale, has been brewing -over the forest.</p> - -<p>“The Day of Atonement” is one of Korolenko’s -lightest and gayest stories. In describing the merry -life of the South, the Little Russian’s kindly humour -joins hands with his glowing imagination, and we -have a vivid glimpse of a cosy village surrounded by -cherry gardens and bathed in warm moonlight; of -black-eyed girls, of timid, bustling Jews, of superstitious -townsmen, of a canny miller; in short, of all -the busy, active life of a town within the Jewish Pale.</p> - -<p>But grave or gay, merry or sad, Korolenko is -above all things an optimist in his outlook on the -world. Through thick and thin, through sorrow and -misfortune, the poor, artless heroes of his stories all<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_xii"></a>[xii]</span> -turn their faces towards the light. The writer’s kind -heart never ceases its search for the “eternally human” -in every man, and deeply does he sympathise -with mankind’s unquenchable desire for freedom and -justice, which can face evil unafraid. He himself -has said in a letter to a friend: “The Universe -is not the sport of accidental forces. Determinism, -Evolution, and all other theories lead one to confess -that there is a law which is drawing us toward something; -toward something which we call ‘good’ in all -its manifestations, that is to say toward kindness, -truth, right, beauty, and justice.”</p> - -<p>That is the burden of Korolenko’s message to the -world, embodied in all his writings.</p> - -<p>On his return from Siberia, Korolenko went to live -in Nijni-Novgorod and there took an active part in -bettering the conditions of life among “the insulted -and the injured” whom he loved. In a year of famine -he worked hard to organise free kitchens for the -starving poor, and many energetic articles from -his pen were published in the papers. He also continued -to produce stories, sketches, and several -longer novels, of which the best known is the “Blind -Musician.”</p> - -<p>In 1894 he made a journey to England and -America, and on his return wrote an amusing record -of his travels entitled: “Without a Tongue.”</p> - -<p>In 1895 he became the editor of the magazine, -<i>Russkoye Bogatsvo</i>, and since that date the great<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_xiii"></a>[xiii]</span> -story writer has definitely devoted himself to journalism, -and has now become one of Russia’s greatest -publicists.</p> - -<p>The Russian heart is essentially charitable and -full of human kindness. Thoroughly democratic in -their relations with one another, the Russian people -have the misfortune to labour under the harshest -political régime in Europe. Like many of his -countrymen, Korolenko now devotes his life to -the cause of the suffering and the downtrodden, and -to helping those who are the victims of social and -political injustice.</p> - - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2 class="nobreak">CONTENTS</h2> -</div> - - -<table border="0" cellpadding="2" cellspacing="2" summary="table"> - - -<tr><td> </td><td class="tdr"><span class="small">PAGE</span></td></tr> - -<tr><td><span class="smcap">Introduction</span></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_v"> v</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><span class="smcap">Makar’s Dream</span></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_1"> 1</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><span class="smcap">The Murmuring Forest</span></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_49"> 49</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><span class="smcap">In Bad Company</span></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_89"> 89</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><span class="smcap">The Day of Atonement</span></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_191"> 191</a></td></tr> -</table> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_1"></a>[1]</span> -<h2 class="nobreak">MAKAR’S DREAM</h2> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_2"></a>[2]</span></p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_3"></a>[3]</span> -<p class="ph1">MAKAR’S DREAM</p> -</div> - -<p class="caption">A CHRISTMAS STORY</p> - - -<p><span class="smcap">This</span> dream was dreamed by poor Makar, who herded -his calves in a stern and distant land, by that same -Makar upon whose head all troubles are said to -fall.</p> - -<p>Makar’s birth place was the lonely village of Chalgan, -lost in the far forests of Yakutsk. His parents -and grandparents had wrested a strip of land from -the forest, and their courage had not failed even -when the dark thickets still stood about them like -a hostile wall. Rail fences began to stretch across -the clearing; small, smoky huts began to crowd -thickly upon it; hay and straw stacks sprang up; -and at last, from a knoll in the centre of the encampment, -a church spire had shot toward heaven -like a banner of victory.</p> - -<p>Chalgan had become a village.</p> - -<p>But while Makar’s forbears had been striving with -the forest, burning it with fire and hewing it with -steel, they themselves had slowly become savage -in their turn. They married Yakut women, spoke -the language of the Yakuts, adopted their customs, -and gradually in them the characteristics of the -Great Russian race had been obliterated and lost.</p> - -<p>Nevertheless, my Makar firmly believed that he -was a Russian peasant of Chalgan, and not a nomad<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_4"></a>[4]</span> -Yakut. In Chalgan he had been born, there he had -lived and there he meant to die. He was very proud -of his birth and station, and when he wished to -vilify his fellow-townsmen would call them “heathen -Yakuts,” though if the truth must be told, he differed -from them neither in habits nor manner of -living. He seldom spoke Russian and, when he did, -spoke it badly. He dressed in skins, wore “torbas” -on his feet, ate dough-cakes and drank brick-tea, -supplemented on holidays and special occasions with -as much cooked butter as happened to be on the -table before him. He could ride very skilfully on an -ox, and when he fell ill he always summoned a wizard, -who would go mad and spring at him, gnashing his -teeth, hoping to frighten the malady out of his patient -and so drive it away.</p> - -<p>Makar worked desperately hard, lived in poverty, -and suffered from hunger and cold. Had he a -thought beyond his unceasing anxiety to obtain his -dough-cakes and brick-tea? Yes, he had.</p> - -<p>When he was drunk, he would weep and cry: “Oh, -Lord my God, what a life!” sometimes adding that -he would like to give it all up and go up on to the -“mountain.” There he need neither sow nor reap, -nor cut and haul wood, nor even grind grain on a -hand millstone. He would “be saved,” that was all. -He did not know exactly where the mountain was, -nor what it was like, he only knew that there was -such a place, and that it was somewhere far away,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_5"></a>[5]</span> -so far that there not even the District Policeman -could find him. Of course there he would pay no -taxes.</p> - -<p>When sober he abandoned these thoughts, realising -perchance the impossibility of finding that beautiful -mountain, but when drunk he grew bolder. Admitting -that he might not find that particular mountain, -but some other, he would say: “In that case I -should die.” But he was prepared to start, nevertheless. -If he did not carry out his intention, it was -because the Tartars in the village always sold him -vile vodka with an infusion of mahorka<a id="FNanchor_1" href="#Footnote_1" class="fnanchor">[A]</a> for -strength, and this quickly made him ill and laid him -by the heels.</p> - -<p>It was Christmas Eve, and Makar knew that to-morrow -would be a great holiday. This being the -case, he was overpowered with a longing for drink, -but to drink there was nothing. His resources were -at an end. His flour was all gone, he was already -in debt to the village merchants and Tartars, yet -to-morrow was a great holiday, he would not be -able to work, what could he do if he did not get -drunk? This reflection made him unhappy. What a -life it was! He had not even one bottle of vodka to -drink on the great winter holiday.</p> - -<p>Then a happy thought came to him. He got up -and put on his ragged fur coat. His wife, a sturdy,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_6"></a>[6]</span> -sinewy woman, remarkably strong and equally remarkably -ugly, who saw through all his simple wiles, -guessed his intentions as usual.</p> - -<p>“Where are you going, you wretch? To drink -vodka alone?”</p> - -<p>“Be quiet. I’m going to buy one bottle. We’ll -drink it together to-morrow.”</p> - -<p>He gave her a sly wink and clapped her on the -shoulder with such force that she staggered. A -woman’s heart is like that; though she knew that -Makar was deceiving her, she surrendered to the -charms of that conjugal caress.</p> - -<p>He went out of the house, caught his old piebald -pony in the courtyard, led him by the mane to the -sleigh, and put him in harness. The piebald soon -carried Makar through the gates and then stopped -and looked enquiringly at his Master, who was sitting -plunged in thought. At this Makar pulled the -left rein, and drove away to the outskirts of the -village.</p> - -<p>On the edge of the village stood a little hut out -of which, as out of the other huts, the smoke of a -little fire rose high, high into the air, veiling the -bright moon and the white, glittering hosts of stars. -The flames crackled merrily and sparkled through -the dim icicles that hung about the doorway. All -was quiet inside the courtyard gates.</p> - -<p>Strangers from a foreign land lived here. How -they had come, what tempest had cast them up in<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_7"></a>[7]</span> -that lonely clearing, Makar knew not, neither cared -to know, but he liked to trade with them, for they -neither pressed him too hard nor insisted upon payment.</p> - -<p>On entering the hut, Makar went straight to the -fireplace and stretched out his frozen hands over the -blaze, crying “Tcha” to explain how the frost had -nipped him.</p> - -<p>The foreigners were at home; a candle was burning -on the table although no work was being done. -One man was lying on the bed blowing rings of -smoke, pensively following their winding curves with -his eyes, and intertwining with them the long threads -of his thoughts.</p> - -<p>The other was sitting over the fire thoughtfully -watching the sparks that crept across the burning -wood.</p> - -<p>“Hello!” said Makar, to break the oppressive silence.</p> - -<p>He did not know—how should he—the sadness that -filled the hearts of the two strangers, the memories -that crowded their brains that evening, the visions -they saw in the fantastic play of fire and smoke. Besides, -he had troubles of his own.</p> - -<p>The young man who sat by the chimney raised -his head and looked at Makar with puzzled eyes, as -if not recognising him. Then, with a shake of his -head, he quickly got up from his chair.</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_8"></a>[8]</span>“Ah, good evening, good evening, Makar. Good. -Will you have tea with us?”</p> - -<p>“Tea?” Makar repeated after him. “That’s good. -That’s good, brother; that’s fine.”</p> - -<p>He began quickly to take off his things. Once -free of his fur coat and cap he felt more at his -ease, and, seeing the red coals already glowing in the -samovar, he turned to the young man with exaggerated -enthusiasm.</p> - -<p>“I like you, that is the truth. I like you so, so -very much; at night I don’t sleep——”</p> - -<p>The stranger turned, and a bitter smile crept over -his face.</p> - -<p>“You like me, do you?” he asked. “What do you -want?”</p> - -<p>“Business,” Makar answered. “But how did you -know?”</p> - -<p>“All right. When I’ve had tea I’ll tell you.”</p> - -<p>As his hosts themselves had offered him tea, Makar -thought the moment opportune to press the point -farther.</p> - -<p>“Have you any roast meat?” he asked. “I like it.”</p> - -<p>“No, we haven’t.”</p> - -<p>“Well, never mind,” replied Makar soothingly. -“We’ll have that some other time, won’t we?” And -he repeated his question: “We’ll have that some -other time?”</p> - -<p>“Very well.”</p> - -<p>Makar now considered that the strangers owed<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_9"></a>[9]</span> -him a piece of roast meat, and he never failed to -collect a debt of this kind.</p> - -<p>Another hour found him seated once more in his -sled, having made one whole rouble by selling five -loads of wood in advance on fairly good terms. -Now, although he had vowed and sworn not to drink -up the money until to-morrow, he nevertheless made -up his mind to do so without delay. What odds? -The pleasure ahead silenced the voice of his conscience; -he even forgot the cruel drubbing in store -for his drunken self from his wife, the faithful and -the deceived.</p> - -<p>“Where are you going, Makar?” called the -stranger laughing, as Makar’s horse, instead of -going straight ahead, turned off to the left in the -direction of the Tartar settlement.</p> - -<p>“Whoa! Whoa! Will you look where the brute -is going?” cried Makar to exculpate himself, tugging -hard at the left rein nevertheless and slyly slapping -his pony’s side with the right.</p> - -<p>The clever little horse stumbled patiently away in -the direction required by his master, and the scraping -of the runners soon stopped in front of a Tartar -house.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>At the gate stood several horses with high-peaked -Yakut saddles on their backs.</p> - -<p>The air in the crowded hut was stifling and hot; -a dense cloud of acrid mahorka smoke hung in the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_10"></a>[10]</span> -air and wound slowly up the chimney. Yakut visitors -were sitting on benches about the room or had -clustered around the tables set with mugs full of -vodka. Here and there little groups were gathered -over a game of cards. The faces of all were flushed -and shining with sweat. The eyes of the gamblers -were fiercely intent on their play, and the money -came and went in a flash from pocket to pocket. -On a pile of straw in a corner sat a drunken Yakut, -rocking his body to and fro and droning an endless -song. He drew the wild, rasping sounds from his -throat in every possible key, repeating always that -to-morrow was a great holiday and that to-day he -was drunk.</p> - -<p>Makar paid his rouble and received in return a -bottle of vodka. He slipped it into the breast of his -coat and retired unnoticed into a corner. There he -filled mug after mug in rapid succession and gulped -them down one after another. The liquor was vile, -diluted for the holiday with more than three quarters -of water, but if the dole of vodka was scant, the -mahorka had not been stinted. Makar caught his -breath after each draught, and purple spots circled -before his eyes.</p> - -<p>The liquor soon overpowered him; he also sank -down on the straw, folded his arms around his knees, -and laid his heavy head upon them. The same -dreary, rasping sounds burst of their own accord -from his throat; he sang that to-morrow was a<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_11"></a>[11]</span> -great holiday and that he had drunk up five loads -of wood.</p> - -<p>Meanwhile the hut was filling with other Yakuts -who had come to town to go to church and to drink -Tartar vodka, and the host saw that soon there -would be no room for more. He rose from the table -and looked at the company, and, as he did so, his eye -fell upon Makar and the Yakut sitting in their dark -corner. He made his way to the Yakut, seized him -by the coat collar, and flung him out of the hut. -Then he approached Makar.</p> - -<p>As a citizen of Chalgan, the Tartar showed him -greater respect; he threw the door open wide and -gave the poor fellow such a kick from behind that -Makar shot out of the hut and buried his nose in a -snow-drift.</p> - -<p>It would be difficult to say whether Makar was -offended by this treatment or not. He felt snow up -his sleeves and on his face, picked himself up somehow -out of the drift, and staggered to where his -piebald was standing.</p> - -<p>The moon had by now risen high in the heavens -and the tail of the Great Bear was dipping toward -the horizon. The cold was tightening its grasp. -The first fiery shafts of the Aurora were flaring up -fitfully out of a dark, semicircular cloud in the north -and playing softly across the sky.</p> - -<p>The piebald, realising, it seemed, his master’s condition, -trudged carefully and soberly homeward.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_12"></a>[12]</span> -Makar sat in his sled, swaying from side to side, and -continued his song. He sang that he had drunk away -five loads of wood, and that his old woman would -kill him when he got home.</p> - -<p>The sounds that burst from his throat rasped and -groaned so dismally through the evening air that his -friend the foreigner, who had climbed up on to his -roof to close the mouth of the chimney, felt more than -ever unhappy at the sound of Makar’s song.</p> - -<p>Meanwhile the piebald had drawn the sled to the -top of a little hill from where the surrounding country -could be distinctly seen. The snowy expanse -lay shining brightly, bathed in the rays of the moon, -but from time to time the moonlight faded and the -white fields grew dark until, with a sudden flash, the -radiance of the Northern Lights streamed across -them. Then it seemed as if the snowy hills and the -forest that clothed them were coming very close, to -withdraw once again into the distant shadow. Makar -spied plainly through the trees the silvery bald -crown of the little knoll behind which his traps were -waiting for all the wild dwellers of the forest. The -sight of this hill changed the tenor of his thoughts. -He sang that a fox had been caught in one of his -snares; he would sell the pelt in the morning, and so -his wife would not kill him.</p> - -<p>The first chimes of the church bells were ringing -through the frosty air as Makar re-entered his hut. -His first words were to tell his wife that a fox had<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_13"></a>[13]</span> -been caught in one of his traps, and as he had forgotten -entirely that the old woman had not shared -his vodka, he was violently surprised when she gave -him a cruel kick, without paying any attention to -his good news.</p> - -<p>Later, as he lay prostrate on the bed, she managed -to give him another blow in the back with her fist.</p> - -<p>Meanwhile the solemn, festal chiming of the bells -broke over Chalgan and floated far, far away into -the distance.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>He lay on his bed with his head burning and his -vitals on fire. The strong mixture of vodka and -mahorka was coursing through his veins, and trickles -of melted snow were running down his face and back.</p> - -<p>His wife thought him asleep, but he was not -sleeping. He could not get the idea of that fox out -of his head. He had succeeded in convincing himself -absolutely that a fox had been caught in one of -his traps, and he even knew which trap it was. He -saw the fox pinned under the heavy log, saw it tearing -at the snow with its claws and struggling to be -free, while the moonbeams stole into the thicket and -played over its red-gold fur. The eyes of the wild -creature were glowing at his approach.</p> - -<p>He could stand it no longer. He rose from his -bed, and started to find his faithful pony who was to -carry him into the forest.</p> - -<p>But what was this? Had the strong arms of his<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_14"></a>[14]</span> -wife really seized him by the collar of his fur coat -and thrown him back on the bed?</p> - -<p>No, here he was, already beyond the village. The -runners of his sleigh were creaking smoothly over -the hard snow. Chalgan had been left behind. The -solemn tones of the church bells came floating along -his trail, and on the black line of the horizon bands -of dark horsemen in tall, pointed hats were silhouetted -against the bright sky. The Yakuts were -hurrying to church.</p> - -<p>The moon went down, and a small, whitish cloud -appeared in the zenith, shining with suffused, phosphorescent -lustre. It gathered size, it broke, it flickered, -and rays of iridescent light spread swiftly from -it in all directions, while the dark, semicircular cloud -in the north grew blacker and blacker, more sombre -than the forest which Makar was approaching.</p> - -<p>The road wound through a dense, low thicket with -little hills rising on either hand; the farther it -advanced, the higher grew the trees, until at last the -taiga<a id="FNanchor_2" href="#Footnote_2" class="fnanchor">[B]</a> closed about it, mute and pregnant with mystery. -The naked branches of the larches drooped -under their loads of silvery rime. The soft radiance -of the Aurora filtered through the tree-tops, and -strayed across the frosty earth, unveiling now an -icy glade, now the fallen trunk of some giant of the -forest half buried in the snow.</p> - -<p>Another moment, and again all was sunk in murky<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_15"></a>[15]</span> -darkness, full-fraught with secrecy and silence. Makar -stopped. Here, almost at the side of the road, -were set the first units of an elaborate system of -traps. He could see clearly in the phosphorescent -light the low stockade of fallen timber and the first -trap—three long, heavy logs resting upon an upright -post, and held in place by a complicated arrangement -of levers and horse-hair ropes.</p> - -<p>To be sure, these traps were not his, but might -not a fox have been caught in them, too? Makar -quickly got out of his sled, left the clever piebald -standing in the road, and listened attentively.</p> - -<p>Not a sound in the forest! Only the solemn ringing -of the church bells came floating as before from -the distant, invisible village.</p> - -<p>There was nothing to fear. Aliosha, the owner -of the traps and Makar’s neighbour and bitter -enemy, was no doubt in church. Not a track could -be seen on the smooth breast of the new-fallen snow.</p> - -<p>Makar struck into the thicket—no one was there.</p> - -<p>The snow creaked under foot. The log traps lay -side by side like a row of cannon with gaping jaws, -in silent expectation.</p> - -<p>Makar walked up and down the line without finding -anything, and turned back to the road.</p> - -<p>But what was that? A faint rustle! The gleam -of red fur near at hand in a spot of light! Makar -saw clearly the pointed ears of a fox; it waved its -bushy tail from side to side as if to beckon him<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_16"></a>[16]</span> -into the forest, and vanished among the tree-trunks -in the direction of his traps. Next moment a dull, -heavy thud resounded through the forest, ringing -out clearly at first, and then echoing more faintly -under the canopy of trees, until it died softly away -in the dark abysses of the taiga.</p> - -<p>Makar’s heart leapt—a trap had fallen!</p> - -<p>He sprang toward the sound, pushing his way -through the undergrowth. The icy twigs whipped -his eyes and showered snow in his face; he stumbled -and lost his breath.</p> - -<p>At last he ran into a clearing that he himself had -made. Hoary white trees surrounded the little -glade, and a shrinking path crept across it, with the -mouth of a large trap guarding its farther end. -A few steps more and——</p> - -<p>Suddenly, the figure of a man appeared on the -path near the trap—appeared and vanished. Makar -recognised Aliosha. He saw distinctly his short, massive, -stooping form and his walk like a bear’s. His -dark face looked blacker than he had ever seen it, -Makar thought, and his large teeth showed in a -wider grin than ever.</p> - -<p>Makar was seized with genuine anger. “The -scoundrel! He has been at my traps!” It was true -that Makar had just made the round of Aliosha’s -traps, but that was a different matter. The difference -was that when he visited other men’s traps he -felt afraid of being discovered, but when others came<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_17"></a>[17]</span> -to his traps, he felt indignation and a longing to lay -hands on the man who had violated his rights.</p> - -<p>He darted toward the fallen trap. There was the -fox! Aliosha, too, was approaching with his shuffling -bear’s walk; Makar must reach the trap first!</p> - -<p>There lay the fallen log and under it glistened the -ruddy coat of the captive creature. The fox was -scratching at the snow with its paws exactly as -Makar had seen it scratch in his dream, and was -watching his approach with bright, burning eyes, -just as he had dreamt that it would.</p> - -<p>“Titima! (Don’t touch it!) It is mine!” cried -Makar to Aliosha.</p> - -<p>“Titima!” came Aliosha’s voice like an echo. “It -is mine!”</p> - -<p>Both men ran up at the same moment, and both -began quickly to raise the log, freeing the animal -beneath it. As the log was lifted the fox rose too. -It gave a little jump, stopped, looked at the two -men with mocking eyes, and then, lowering its nose, -licked the place that had been caught under the log. -This done it hopped gaily away with a farewell flirt -of its tail.</p> - -<p>Aliosha would have thrown himself after it, but -Makar caught him by the coat tails.</p> - -<p>“Titima!” he cried. “It is mine!” And he started -after the fox.</p> - -<p>“Titima!” echoed Aliosha’s voice again, and Makar<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_18"></a>[18]</span> -felt himself seized, in turn, by the tails of his -coat, and saw Aliosha dart forward.</p> - -<p>Makar was furious. He forgot the fox and rushed -after Aliosha, who now turned to flee.</p> - -<p>They ran faster and faster. The twigs of the -larches knocked the cap from Aliosha’s head, but he -could not stop to regain it. Makar was already -upon him with a fierce cry. But Aliosha had always -been more crafty than poor Makar. He suddenly -stopped, turned round, and lowered his head; Makar -ran straight into it with his stomach and turned -head over heels in the snow. As he fell, that infernal -Aliosha snatched the cap from his head and vanished -into the forest.</p> - -<p>Makar rose slowly to his feet. He felt thoroughly -beaten and miserable. The state of his mind was -pitiful. The fox had been in his hands and now—he -thought he saw it again in the darkening forest -wave its tail gaily once more and vanish forever.</p> - -<p>Darkness was falling. The little white cloud in -the zenith could barely be seen, and beams of fading -light were flowing wearily and languidly from it as it -gently melted away.</p> - -<p>Sharp rivulets of icy water were running in -streams over Makar’s heated body; the snow had -gone up his sleeves and was trickling down his back -and into his boots. That infernal Aliosha had taken -away his cap and Makar well knew that the pitiless<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_19"></a>[19]</span> -cold does not jest with men who go into the taiga -without gloves and without a hat.</p> - -<p>He had already walked far. According to his calculations -he should long since have been in sight of -the church steeple, but here he was still in the forest. -The taiga held him in its embrace like a witch. The -same solemn ringing came to his ears from afar; he -thought he was walking toward it, but the sound -kept growing more and more distant, and a dull -despair crept into Makar’s heart as its echoes came -ever more faintly to his ears.</p> - -<p>He was tired; he was choking; his legs were shaking -under him. His bruised body ached miserably, -his breathing strangled him, his feet and hands were -growing numb, and red-hot bands seemed tightening -around his bare head.</p> - -<p>“I shall die!” came more and more frequently into -his mind, but still he walked on.</p> - -<p>The taiga held its peace. It closed about him -with obdurate hostility and gave him no light and -no hope.</p> - -<p>“I shall die!” Makar kept thinking.</p> - -<p>His strength left him altogether. The saplings -now beat him squarely in the face without the least -shame, in derision at his helpless plight. As he -crossed one little glade a white hare ran out, sat up -on its hind legs, waved its long, black-tipped ears, -and began to wash its face, making the rudest grimaces -at Makar. It gave him to understand that it<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_20"></a>[20]</span> -knew him well, knew him to be the same Makar who -had devised cunning means of destruction for it in -the forest; but now it was its turn to jeer.</p> - -<p>Makar felt bitterly sad. The taiga grew more -animated, but with a malign activity. Even the distant -trees now threw their long branches across his -way, snatched at his hair, and beat his face and -eyes. The ptarmigans came out of their secret coverts -and fixed their round, curious eyes upon him, -and the wood-grouse ran in and out among them with -drooping tails and angry, spreading wings, loudly -telling their mates of him, Makar, and of his snares. -Finally, a thousand fox-faces glanced from the distant -thickets; they sniffed the air and looked derisively -at him, pricking their sharp ears. Then the -hares came and stood on their hind legs before him -and shouted with laughter as they told of Makar’s -misfortune.</p> - -<p>That was too much.</p> - -<p>“I shall die!” thought Makar, and he decided to -do so as quickly as possible.</p> - -<p>He lay down on the snow.</p> - -<p>The cold increased. The last rays of the Aurora -flickered faintly and stretched across the sky to peep -at Makar through the tree-tops. The last echoes -of the church bells came floating to him from far-away -Chalgan.</p> - -<p>The Northern Lights flared up and went out. -The bells ceased ringing.</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_21"></a>[21]</span>Makar died.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>He did not notice how this came to pass. He -knew that something should come out of him, and -waited, thinking every moment it would come, but -nothing appeared.</p> - -<p>Nevertheless, he realised that he was now dead, -and he therefore lay very still; he lay so long that -he grew tired.</p> - -<p>The night was dark when Makar felt someone -push him with his foot. He turned his head and -opened his eyes.</p> - -<p>The larches were now standing meekly and quietly -over him, as if ashamed of their former pranks. The -shaggy spruces stretched out their long snow-covered -arms and rocked themselves gently, gently, and -the starry snowflakes settled softly through the air.</p> - -<p>The kind, bright stars looked down through the -branches from the dark blue sky, and seemed to be -saying: “See, a poor man has died!”</p> - -<p>Over Makar’s prostrate form and prodding him -with his foot stood the old priest Ivan. His long -cassock was white with snow; snow lay upon his fur -hat, his shoulders, and his beard. Most surprising -of all was the fact that this was the same Father -Ivan who had died five years ago.</p> - -<p>He had been a good priest. He had never pressed -Makar for his tithes and had not even asked to be -paid for the services of the church; Makar had always<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_22"></a>[22]</span> -fixed the price of his own christenings and -requiems, and he now remembered with confusion that -it had sometimes been extremely low and that sometimes -he had not even paid it at all. Father Ivan had -never resented this, he had only required one thing: -a bottle of vodka on every occasion. If Makar had -no money, Father Ivan would send him for the bottle -himself, and they would drink it together. The good -priest always grew as drunk as a lord, but he fought -neither fiercely nor often. Makar would see him -home, and hand him over, helpless and defenseless, to -the care of the Mother Priestess, his wife.</p> - -<p>Yes, he had been a good priest, but his end had -been bad.</p> - -<p>One day, when there was no one else at home, the -fuddled Father, who was lying alone on the bed, had -taken it into his head to smoke. He got up and -staggered toward the great, fiercely heated fireplace -to light his pipe at the blaze. But he was too drunk, -he swayed and fell into the fire. When his family -returned, all that remained of the little Father were -his feet.</p> - -<p>Every one regretted good Father Ivan, but no -doctor on earth could have saved him, as only his -feet remained. So they buried the feet, and a new -priest was appointed to fill the place of Father Ivan.</p> - -<p>And now Ivan himself, sound and whole, was -standing over Makar, prodding him with his foot.</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_23"></a>[23]</span>“Get up, Makar, old man!” he was saying, “and -let us be going.”</p> - -<p>“Where must I go?” asked Makar with displeasure. -He supposed that once dead he ought to lie -still, and that there was no need for him now to be -wandering about the forest, losing his way. If he -had to do that, then why had he died?</p> - -<p>“Let us go to the great Toyon.”<a id="FNanchor_3" href="#Footnote_3" class="fnanchor">[C]</a></p> - -<p>“Why should I go to him?” Makar asked.</p> - -<p>“He is going to judge you,” answered the priest in -a sorrowful, compassionate voice.</p> - -<p>Makar recollected that, in fact, one did have to -appear at some judgment after one died. He had -heard that at church. The priest was right after -all; he would have to get up.</p> - -<p>So Makar rose, muttering under his breath that -they couldn’t even let a man alone after he was dead.</p> - -<p>The priest walked before and Makar followed. -They went always straight ahead, and the larches -stood meekly aside and allowed them to pass; they -were going eastward.</p> - -<p>Makar noted with surprise that Father Ivan left -no tracks in the snow behind him; he looked under -his own feet and saw no tracks either; the snow lay -as fresh and smooth as a table cloth.</p> - -<p>How easy it would be now, he reflected, to rob -other men’s traps, as no one could find him out! But -the priest must have read his secret thought, for he<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_24"></a>[24]</span> -turned and said: “Kabis! (stop that!). You don’t -know what you will get for thoughts like that.”</p> - -<p>“Well, I declare!” exclaimed the disgusted Makar. -“Can’t I even think what I please? What makes you -so strict these days? Hold your tongue!”</p> - -<p>The priest shook his head and walked on.</p> - -<p>“Have we far to go?” asked Makar.</p> - -<p>“Yes, a long way,” answered the priest sadly.</p> - -<p>“And what shall we have to eat?” Makar inquired -with anxiety.</p> - -<p>“You have forgotten that you are dead,” the -priest answered turning toward him. “You won’t -have to eat or drink now.”</p> - -<p>Makar did not like that idea in the least. Of -course it would be all right in case there were nothing -to eat, but then one ought to lie still, as he did -at first after his death. But to walk, and to walk -a long way, and to eat nothing, that seemed to him -to be absolutely outrageous. He began muttering -again.</p> - -<p>“Don’t grumble!”</p> - -<p>“All right!” he answered in an injured voice and -went on complaining and growling to himself about -such a stupid arrangement.</p> - -<p>“They make a man walk and yet he needn’t eat! -Who ever heard of such a thing?”</p> - -<p>He was extremely discontented as he followed the -priest. And they walked a long way. Though Makar -could not see the dawn, they seemed, by the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_25"></a>[25]</span> -distance they had covered, to have been walking a -week. They had left so many ravines and hills behind -them, so many rivers and lakes, so many forests -and plains! Whenever Makar looked back, the dark -taiga seemed to be running away behind them and -the high, snowclad mountains seemed to be melting -into the murky night and hiding swiftly behind the -horizon.</p> - -<p>They appeared to be climbing higher and higher. -The stars grew larger and brighter; from the crest -of the height to which they had risen they could -see the rim of the setting moon. It seemed to have -been in haste to escape, but Makar and the priest had -overtaken it. Then it rose again over the horizon, -and the travellers found themselves on a level, very -high plain. It was light now, much lighter than early -in the night, and this was due, of course, to the fact -that they were much nearer the stars than they had -been before. Each one of these, in size like an apple, -glittered with ineffable brightness; the moon, as large -as a huge barrel-head, blazed with the brilliance of -the sun, lighting up the vast expanse from one edge -to the other.</p> - -<p>Every snowflake on the plain was sharply discernible, -and countless paths stretched across it, all converging -toward the same point in the east. Men -of various aspects and in many different garbs were -walking and riding along these roads.</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_26"></a>[26]</span>Makar looked sharply at one horseman, and then -suddenly turned off the road and pursued him.</p> - -<p>“Stop! Stop!” cried the priest, but Makar did -not even hear him. He had recognised a Tartar, an -old acquaintance of his, who had stolen a piebald -horse from him once, and who had died five years -ago. There was that same Tartar now, riding along -on the very same horse! The animal was skimming -over the ground, clouds of snowy dust were rising -from under its hoofs, glittering with the rainbow -colours of twinkling stars. Makar was surprised that -he should be able, on foot, to overtake the Tartar so -easily in his mad gallop. Besides, when he perceived -Makar a few steps behind him, he stopped with great -readiness. Makar fell upon him with passion.</p> - -<p>“Come to the sheriff with me!” he cried. “That is -my horse; he has a split in his right ear. Look at the -man, how smart he is, riding along on a stolen horse -while the owner follows on foot like a beggar!”</p> - -<p>“Gently,” said the Tartar. “No need to go for -the sheriff! You say this is your horse, take him -and be damned to the brute! This is the fifth year I -have been riding him up and down on one and the -same spot! Every foot-passenger overtakes me. It -is humiliating for a good Tartar, it is indeed!”</p> - -<p>He threw his leg over the saddle in act to alight, -but at that moment the panting priest came running -up and seized Makar by the arm.</p> - -<p>“Unfortunate man!” he cried. “What are you<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_27"></a>[27]</span> -about? Can’t you see that the Tartar is fooling -you?”</p> - -<p>“Of course he is fooling me!” shouted Makar waving -his arms. “That was a lovely horse, a real gentleman’s -horse; I was offered forty roubles for him -before his third spring. Never you mind, brother! -If you have spoilt that horse for me I shall cut him -up for meat, and you shall pay me his full value in -money! Do you think, because you are a Tartar, -there are no laws for you?”</p> - -<p>Makar was flying into a passion and shouting in -order to draw a crowd about him, for he was afraid -of Tartars from habit, but the priest broke in on his -outburst.</p> - -<p>“Gently, gently, Makar, you keep forgetting that -you are dead! What do you want with a horse? -Can’t you see that you travel much faster on foot -than the Tartar does on horseback? Would you -like to be forced to ride for a whole thousand years?”</p> - -<p>Makar now understood why the Tartar had been -so willing to give up his horse.</p> - -<p>“They’re a crooked lot!” he thought, and he turned -to the Tartar.</p> - -<p>“Very well then,” he said. “Take the horse, -brother; I forgive you!”</p> - -<p>The Tartar angrily pulled his fur cap over his -ears and lashed his horse. The pony galloped madly, -and clouds of snow flew from under its hoofs,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_28"></a>[28]</span> -but long as Makar and the priest stood still, the -Tartar did not budge an inch from their side.</p> - -<p>He spat angrily and turned to Makar.</p> - -<p>“Listen, friend, haven’t you a bit of mahorka with -you? I do want to smoke so badly, and I finished -all mine five years ago.”</p> - -<p>“You’re a friend of dogs but no friend of mine,” -retorted Makar in a rage. “You have stolen my -horse and now you ask for mahorka! Confound you -altogether, I’m not sorry for you one bit!”</p> - -<p>With these words Makar moved on.</p> - -<p>“You made a mistake not to give him a little -mahorka,” said Father Ivan. “The Toyon would -have forgiven you at least one hundred sins for that -at the Judgment.”</p> - -<p>“Then why didn’t you tell me that before?” -snapped Makar.</p> - -<p>“Ah, it is too late to teach you anything now. -You should have learnt it from your priest while you -were alive.”</p> - -<p>Makar was furious. He saw no sense in priests -who took their tithes and did not even teach a man -when to give a leaf of mahorka to a Tartar in order -to gain forgiveness for his sins. One hundred sins -were no joke! And all for a leaf of tobacco! The -mistake had cost him dear.</p> - -<p>“Wait a moment!” he exclaimed. “One leaf will -do very well for us two. Let me give the other four<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_29"></a>[29]</span> -to the Tartar this minute, that will mean four hundred -sins!”</p> - -<p>“Look behind you,” answered the priest.</p> - -<p>Makar looked round. The white, empty plain lay -stretched out far behind them; the Tartar appeared -for a second upon it, a tiny, distant dot. Makar -thought he could distinguish the white cloud rising -from under the hoofs of his piebald, but next moment -the dot, too, had vanished.</p> - -<p>“Well, well, the Tartar will manage all right without -his mahorka. You see how he has ruined my -horse, the scoundrel!”</p> - -<p>“No, he has not ruined your horse,” answered the -priest. “That horse was stolen. Have you not heard -the old men say that a stolen horse will never go -far?”</p> - -<p>Makar had certainly heard this from the old men, -but as he had often seen Tartars ride all the way to -the city on horses that they had stolen, he had never -put much belief in the saying. He now concluded -that old men were sometimes right.</p> - -<p>They now began to pass many other horsemen on -the plain. All were hurrying along as fast as the -first; the horses were flying like birds, the riders -dripping with sweat, yet Makar and the priest kept -overtaking them and leaving them behind.</p> - -<p>Most of these horsemen were Tartars, but a few -were natives of Chalgan; some of the latter were<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_30"></a>[30]</span> -astride stolen oxen and were goading them on with -lumps of ice.</p> - -<p>Makar looked with hatred at the Tartars, and -muttered every time he passed one that the fellow -had deserved much worse than this, but when he met -a peasant from Chalgan he would stop and chat -amicably with him, as they were friends, after all, -even if they were thieves! Sometimes he would even -show his fellow-feeling by picking up a lump of ice -and diligently beating the ox or horse from behind, -but let him take so much as one step forward himself, -and horse and rider would be left far in the -rear, a scarcely visible dot.</p> - -<p>The plain seemed to be boundless. Though Makar -and his companion occasionally overtook these riders -and pedestrians, the country around was deserted, -and the travellers seemed to be separated by hundreds -of thousands of miles.</p> - -<p>Among others, Makar fell in with an old man unknown -to him, who plainly hailed from Chalgan; -this could be discerned from his face, his clothes, -and even from his walk, but Makar could not remember -ever having seen him before. The old man -wore a ragged fur coat, a great shaggy hat, tattered -and worn leather breeches, and still older calf-skin -boots. Worst of all, he was carrying on his shoulders, -in spite of his old age, a crone still more ancient -than himself, whose feet trailed on the ground. -The old man was wheezing and staggering along,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_31"></a>[31]</span> -leaning heavily on his stick. Makar felt sorry for -him. He stopped and the old man stopped too.</p> - -<p>“Kansi! (Speak!)” said Makar pleasantly.</p> - -<p>“No,” answered the greybeard.</p> - -<p>“What have you seen?”</p> - -<p>“Nothing.”</p> - -<p>“What have you heard?”</p> - -<p>“Nothing.”</p> - -<p>Makar was silent for a while, and then thought -he might ask the old man who he was and whence -he had crawled.</p> - -<p>The old man told his name. Long since, he said—he -did not know himself how many years ago—he -had left Chalgan and gone up to the “mountain” -to save himself. There he had done no work, had -lived on roots and berries, and had neither ploughed -nor sowed nor ground wheat nor paid taxes. When -he died he went to the Judgment of the Toyon. The -Toyon asked him who he was, and what he had done. -He answered he had gone up on the “mountain” and -had saved himself. “Very well,” the Toyon answered, -“but where is your wife? Go and fetch her -here.” So he went back for his old woman. But -she had been forced to beg before she died, as there -had been no one to support her, and she had had -neither house, nor cow, nor bread. Her strength -had failed, and now finally she was not able to move -her legs. So he was obliged to carry her to the -Toyon on his back.</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_32"></a>[32]</span>As he said this, the old man burst into tears, but -the old woman kicked him with her heels as if he had -been an ox, and cried in a weak, cross voice:</p> - -<p>“Go on!”</p> - -<p>Makar felt more sorry than ever for the old man, -and heartily thanked his stars that he had not succeeded -in going to the “mountain” himself. His -wife was large and lusty, and his burden would have -been even heavier than that of the old man; if, in -addition to this, she had begun to kick him as if he -were an ox, he would certainly have died a second -death.</p> - -<p>He tried to hold the old woman’s feet out of pity -for his friend, but he had scarcely taken three steps -before he was forced to drop them hastily, or they -would certainly have remained in his hands; another -minute, and the old man and his burden were left -far out of sight.</p> - -<p>For the remainder of his journey Makar met no -more travellers whom he honoured with marked attention. -Here were thieves crawling along step -by step, laden like beasts of burden with stolen -goods; here rode fat Yakut chieftains towering in -their high saddles, their peaked hats brushing the -clouds; here, skipping beside them, ran poor workmen, -as lean and light as hares; here strode a -gloomy murderer, blood-drenched, with haggard, furtive -eyes. He kept casting himself in vain into the -pure snow, hoping to wash out the crimson stains;<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_33"></a>[33]</span> -the snow around him was instantly dyed red, but the -blood upon the murderer started out more vividly -than ever, and in his eyes there gleamed wild horror -and despair. So he ran on, shunning the frightened -gaze of all men.</p> - -<p>From time to time the little souls of children came -flying through the air like birds, winging their way -in great flocks, and this was no surprise to Makar. -Bad, coarse food, dirt, the heat from the fireplaces, -and the cold draughts in the huts drove them from -Chalgan alone in hundreds. As they overtook the -murderer, the startled flocks wheeled swiftly aside, -and long after their passage the air was filled with -the quick, anxious whirring of their little pinions.</p> - -<p>Makar could not help remarking that, in comparison -with the other travellers, he was moving at a -fairly swift pace, and he hastened to ascribe this to -his own virtue.</p> - -<p>“Listen Asabit! (Father!)” he said. “What do -you think, even if I was fond of drinking I was a -good man, wasn’t I? God loves me, doesn’t he?”</p> - -<p>He looked inquiringly at Father Ivan. He had -a secret motive for asking this question, he wanted -to find out something from the old priest, but the -latter answered curtly:</p> - -<p>“Don’t be conceited! We are near the end now. -You will soon find that out for yourself.”</p> - -<p>Makar had not noticed until then that a light -seemed to be breaking over the plain. First a few<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_34"></a>[34]</span> -lambent rays flashed up over the horizon, spreading -swiftly across the sky and extinguishing the bright -stars. They went out, the moon set, and the plain -lay in darkness.</p> - -<p>Then mists arose on the plain and stood round -about it like a guard of honour.</p> - -<p>And at a certain point in the east the mists grew -bright like a legion of warriors in golden armour.</p> - -<p>And then the mists stirred, and the warriors prostrated -themselves upon the ground.</p> - -<p>And the sun rose from their midst, and rested upon -their golden ranks, and looked across the plain.</p> - -<p>And the whole plain shone with a wonderful, dazzling -radiance.</p> - -<p>And the mists rose triumphantly in a mighty host, -parted in the south, swayed, and swept upwards.</p> - -<p>And Makar seemed to hear a most enchanting melody, -the immemorial pæan with which the earth daily -greets the rising sun. He had never before given it -due attention, and only now felt for the first time -the beauty of the song.</p> - -<p>He stood and hearkened and would not go any -farther; he wanted to stand there forever and listen.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>But Father Ivan touched him on the arm.</p> - -<p>“We have arrived,” he said. “Let us go in.”</p> - -<p>Thereupon Makar noticed that they were standing -before a large door which had previously been -hidden by the mist.</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_35"></a>[35]</span>He was very loath to proceed, but could not fail to -comply.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>They entered a large and spacious hut, and not -until then did Makar reflect that it had been very -cold outside. In the middle of the hut was a chimney -of pure silver marvellously engraved, and in it -blazed logs of gold, radiating such an even heat that -one’s whole body was penetrated by it in an instant. -The flames in this beautiful fireplace neither scorched -nor dazzled the eyes, they only warmed, and once -more Makar wanted to stand there and toast himself -forever. Father Ivan, too, came and stood before -the fire, stretching out his frozen hands to the blaze.</p> - -<p>Four doors opened out of the room, and of these -only one led into the open air; through the other -three young men in long white gowns were coming -and going. Makar imagined that they must be the -servants of this Toyon. He seemed to remember -having seen them somewhere before, but could not -recollect exactly where. He was not a little surprised -to note that each servant wore a pair of large -white wings upon his back, and decided that the -Toyon must have other workmen beside these, for -surely they, encumbered with their wings, could never -make their way through the forest thickets when they -went to cut wood or poles.</p> - -<p>One of the servants approached the fire, and, turning -his back to the blaze, addressed Father Ivan.</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_36"></a>[36]</span>“Speak!”</p> - -<p>“There is nought to say.”</p> - -<p>“What did you hear in the world?”</p> - -<p>“Nothing.”</p> - -<p>“What did you see?”</p> - -<p>“Nothing.”</p> - -<p>Both were silent, and then the priest said:</p> - -<p>“I have brought this one.”</p> - -<p>“Is he from Chalgan?” asked the servant.</p> - -<p>“Yes, from Chalgan.”</p> - -<p>“Then we must get ready the big scales.”</p> - -<p>He left the room to make his preparations, and -Makar asked the priest why scales were needed, and -why they must be large.</p> - -<p>“You see,” answered the priest a trifle embarrassed, -“the scales are needed to weigh the good and -evil you did when you were alive. With all other -people the good and evil almost balance one another, -but the inhabitants of Chalgan bring so many sins -with them that the Toyon had to have special scales -made with one of the bowls extra large in order to -contain them all.”</p> - -<p>At these words Makar quailed, and felt his heart-strings -tighten.</p> - -<p>The servant brought in and set up the big scales. -One bowl was small and of gold, the other was wooden -and of huge proportions. A deep black pit suddenly -opened under the wooden bowl.</p> - -<p>Makar approached the scales, and carefully inspected<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_37"></a>[37]</span> -them to make sure they were not false. They -proved to be correct; the bowls hung motionless, -without movement up or down.</p> - -<p>To tell the truth, he did not exactly understand -their mechanism, and would have preferred to have -done business with the simple balances by whose aid -he had learned to buy and sell with great profit to -himself during the course of his long life.</p> - -<p>“The Toyon is coming!” cried Father Ivan suddenly, -and hastily began to pull his cassock straight.</p> - -<p>The central door opened and in came an ancient, -venerable Toyon, his long silvery beard hanging -below his waist. He was dressed in rich furs and -tissues unknown to Makar, and on his feet he wore -warm velvet-lined boots, such as Makar had seen -depicted on antique ikons.</p> - -<p>Makar recognised him at a glance as the same -old greybeard whose picture he had seen in church, -only here he was unattended by his son. Makar -decided that the latter must have gone out on business. -The dove flew into the room, however, and -after circling about the old man’s head, settled upon -his knee. The old Toyon stroked the dove with -his hand as he sat on the seat that had been especially -prepared for him.</p> - -<p>The Toyon’s face was kind, and when Makar became -too downcast he looked at it and felt better.</p> - -<p>His heart was heavy because he was suddenly remembering -all his past life down to the smallest<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_38"></a>[38]</span> -detail; he remembered every step he had taken, -every blow of his axe, every tree he had felled, every -deceit he had practiced, every glass of vodka he had -drunk.</p> - -<p>He grew frightened and ashamed, but he took -heart as he looked at the face of the old Toyon.</p> - -<p>And as he took heart it occurred to him that -there might be some things he could manage to conceal.</p> - -<p>The old Toyon looked searchingly at him and -asked him who he was and whence he had come, what -his name was and what his age might be.</p> - -<p>When Makar had replied to his questions, the old -Toyon asked:</p> - -<p>“What have you done in your life?”</p> - -<p>“You know that yourself,” answered Makar. -“Surely it is written in your book!”</p> - -<p>Makar wanted to test the Toyon and find out -whether everything was really inscribed there or -no.</p> - -<p>“Tell me yourself,” answered the old Toyon.</p> - -<p>Makar took courage.</p> - -<p>He began enumerating all his works, and although -he remembered every blow he had struck with his axe, -every pole he had cut, and every furrow he had -ploughed, he added to his reckoning thousands of -poles and hundreds of loads of wood and hundreds -of logs and hundreds of pounds of sown seed.</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_39"></a>[39]</span>When all had been told, the old Toyon turned to -Father Ivan and said:</p> - -<p>“Bring hither the book.”</p> - -<p>Makar saw from this that Father Ivan was secretary -to the Toyon, and was annoyed that the other -had given him no friendly hint of the fact.</p> - -<p>Father Ivan brought the great book, opened it, -and began to read.</p> - -<p>“Just look and see how many poles are inscribed -there,” said the old Toyon.</p> - -<p>Father Ivan looked and answered sorrowfully:</p> - -<p>“He added a round three thousand to his reckoning.”</p> - -<p>“It’s a lie!” shouted Makar vehemently. “He must -be wrong because he was a drunkard and died a -wicked death!”</p> - -<p>“Be quiet!” commanded the Toyon. “Did he -charge you more than was fair for christenings and -weddings? Did he ever press you for tithes?”</p> - -<p>“Why waste words?” answered Makar.</p> - -<p>“You see,” the Toyon said, “I know without assistance -from you that he was fond of drink——”</p> - -<p>And the old Toyon lost his temper. “Read his -sins from the book now; he is a cheat, and I can’t believe -his words!” he cried to Father Ivan.</p> - -<p>Meanwhile the servants were heaping into the -golden bowl all Makar’s poles, and his wood, and -his ploughing, and all his work. And there proved to -be so much that the golden bowl sank, and the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_40"></a>[40]</span> -wooden bowl rose out of reach, high, high into the -air. So the young servants of God flew up to it on -their pinions and hundreds of them pulled it to the -floor with ropes.</p> - -<p>Heavy is the labour of a native of Chalgan!</p> - -<p>Then Father Ivan began adding up the number of -frauds that Makar had committed, and there proved -to be twenty-one thousand, three hundred and three. -Then he added up the number of bottles of vodka -he had drunk, and there proved to be four hundred. -And the priest read on and Makar saw that the -wooden bowl was pulling on the gold one; it sank -into the hole, and, as the priest read, it descended -ever deeper and deeper.</p> - -<p>Makar realised then that things were going badly -for him; he stepped up to the scales and furtively -tried to block them with his foot.</p> - -<p>But one of the servants saw it, and a clamour arose -amongst them.</p> - -<p>“What is the matter there?” asked the old Toyon.</p> - -<p>“Why, he was trying to block the scales with his -foot!” cried the servant.</p> - -<p>At that the Toyon turned wrathfully to Makar, -exclaiming:</p> - -<p>“I see that you are a cheat, a sluggard, and a -drunkard. You have left your arrears unpaid behind -you, you owe tithes to the priest, and the policeman -is steadily sinning on your account by swearing -every time he speaks your name.”</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_41"></a>[41]</span>Then, turning to Father Ivan, the old Toyon -asked:</p> - -<p>“Who in Chalgan gives the heaviest loads to his -horses to pull, and who works them the hardest?”</p> - -<p>Father Ivan answered:</p> - -<p>“The church warden. He carries the mail and -drives the district policeman.”</p> - -<p>To that the Toyon answered:</p> - -<p>“Hand over this sluggard to the church warden -for a horse and let him pull the policeman until -he drops—we shall see what will happen next.”</p> - -<p>Just as the Toyon was saying these words, the -door opened; his son entered the hut and sat down -at his right hand.</p> - -<p>And the son said:</p> - -<p>“I have heard the sentence pronounced by you. -I have lived long on the earth, and I know the ways -of the world. It will be hard for the poor man to -take the place of the district policeman’s horse. -However, so be it, only mayhap he still has something -to say: speak baraksan! (poor fellow!)”</p> - -<p>Then there happened a strange thing. Makar, -the Makar who had never before in his life uttered -more than ten words at a time, suddenly felt himself -possessed of the gift of eloquence. He began speaking, -and wondered at himself. There seemed to be -two Makars, the one talking, the other listening and -marvelling. He could scarcely believe his ears. His -discourse flowed from his lips with fluency and passion;<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_42"></a>[42]</span> -the words pursued one another swiftly, and -ranged themselves in long and graceful rows. He -did not hesitate. If by any chance he became confused, -he corrected himself and shouted twice louder -than before. But above all he felt that his words -were carrying conviction.</p> - -<p>The ancient Toyon, who had at first been a little -annoyed by his boldness, began listening with rapt -attention, as if he were being persuaded that Makar -was not the fool that he seemed to be. Father Ivan -had been frightened for an instant and had plucked -Makar by the coat-tails, but Makar had pushed him -aside and continued his speech. The fears of the old -priest were quickly allayed; he even beamed at Makar -as he heard his old parishioner boldly declaring -the truth, and saw that that truth was pleasing to -the heart of the ancient Toyon. Even the young -servants of the Toyon with their long gowns and -their white wings came out of their quarters and -stood in the doorways listening with wonder to -Makar’s words, nudging one another with their elbows.</p> - -<p>Makar commenced his plea by saying that he did -not want to take the place of the church warden’s -horse. Not because he was afraid of hard work, but -because the sentence was unjust. And because the -sentence was unjust, he would not submit to it; he -would not do a stroke of work nor move one single -foot. Let them do what they would with him! Let<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_43"></a>[43]</span> -them hand him over to the devils forever, he would -not haul the policeman, because to condemn him to -do so was an injustice. And let them not imagine -that he was afraid of being a horse. Although -the church warden drove his horse hard, he fed him -with oats, but he, Makar, had been goaded all his -life, and no one had ever fed him.</p> - -<p>“Who has goaded you?” asked the Toyon.</p> - -<p>Yes, all his life long he had been goaded. The -bailiff had goaded him; the tax assessor and the -policeman had goaded him, demanding taxes and -tallage; hunger and want had goaded him; cold -and heat, rain and drought had goaded him; the -frozen earth and the ruthless forest had goaded -him. The horse had trudged on with its eyes on -the ground, ignorant of its journey’s end; so had he -trudged through life. Had he known the meaning -of what the priest read in church or for what his -tithes were demanded? Had he known why his eldest -son had been taken away as a soldier and whither -he had gone? Had he known where he had died and -where his poor bones had been laid?</p> - -<p>He had drunk, it was charged, too much vodka; so -he had, for his heart had craved it.</p> - -<p>“How many bottles did you say that he drank?” -the Toyon asked.</p> - -<p>“Four hundred,” answered Father Ivan, with a -glance at the book.</p> - -<p>That might be so, pleaded Makar, but was it<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_44"></a>[44]</span> -really all vodka? Three quarters of it was water; -only one quarter was vodka, and that was stiffened -with vile mahorka. Three hundred bottles might -well be deducted from his account.</p> - -<p>“Is what he says true?” asked the ancient Toyon -of Father Ivan, and it was plain that his anger was -not yet appeased.</p> - -<p>“Absolutely true,” the priest answered quickly, -and Makar continued his tale.</p> - -<p>It was true that he had added three thousand -poles to his account, but what if he had? What -if he had only cut sixteen thousand? Was that so -small a number? Besides, while he had cut two -thousand his first wife had been ill. His heart had -been aching, he had longed to sit by her bedside, -but want had driven him into the forest, and in the -forest he had wept, and the tears had frozen on his -eye-lashes, and because of his grief, the cold had -struck into his very heart, and still he had chopped.</p> - -<p>And then his old woman had died. He had to bury -her, but he had no money to pay for the burial. So -he had hired himself out to chop wood to pay for -his wife’s abode in the world beyond. The merchant -had seen how great was his need, and had only paid -him ten kopecks—and his old woman had lain all -alone in the icy hut while he had once more chopped -wood and wept. Surely each one of those loads -should be counted as four or even more!</p> - -<p>Tears rose in the eyes of the old Toyon, and Makar<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_45"></a>[45]</span> -saw the scales trembling and the wooden bowl rising -as the golden one sank.</p> - -<p>And still he talked on.</p> - -<p>Everything was written down in their book, he -said, let them look and see if any one had ever done -him a kindness or brought him happiness and joy! -Where were his children? If they had died his heart -had been heavy and sad; if they had lived to grow -up they had left him, to carry on their fight alone -with their own grinding needs. So he had remained -to grow old with his second wife, and had felt his -strength failing and had seen that a pitiless, homeless -old age was creeping upon him. They two had -stood solitary as two lorn fir-trees on the steppe, -buffeted on every hand by the merciless winds.</p> - -<p>“Is that true?” asked the Toyon again, and the -priest hastened to answer:</p> - -<p>“Absolutely true.”</p> - -<p>And the scales trembled once more—but the old -Toyon pondered.</p> - -<p>“How is this?” he asked. “Have I not many on -earth who are truly righteous? Their eyes are clear, -their faces are bright, and their garments are without -a stain. Their hearts are mellow as well tilled -soil in which flourishes good seed, sending up strong -and fragrant shoots whose odour is pleasant to my -nostrils. But you—look at yourself!”</p> - -<p>All eyes were now turned on Makar, and he felt -ashamed. He knew that his eyes were dim, that his<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_46"></a>[46]</span> -face was dull, that his hair and beard were unkempt, -that his raiment was torn. And though for some -time before his death he had intended to buy a pair -of new boots in which to appear at the Judgment, he -somehow had always managed to drink up the money, -and now stood before the Toyon in wretched fur -shoes like a Yakut.</p> - -<p>“Your face is dull,” the Toyon went on. “Your -eyes are bleared and your clothes are torn. Your -heart is choked with weeds and thistles and bitter -wormwood. That is why I love my righteous and -turn my face from the ungodly such as you.”</p> - -<p>Makar’s heart contracted and he blushed for his -own existence. He hung his head for a moment and -then suddenly raised it and took up his tale once -more.</p> - -<p>Which righteous men did the Toyon mean? he -asked. If he meant those that lived on earth in -rich houses at the same time that Makar was there, -then he knew all about them! Their eyes were clear -because they had not shed the tears he had shed; -their faces were bright because they were bathed -in perfume, and their spotless garments were sewn -by other hands than their own.</p> - -<p>Again Makar hung his head, and again raised it.</p> - -<p>And did not the Toyon know that he too had come -into the world as they had with clear, candid eyes -in which heaven and earth lay reflected? That he -had been born with a pure heart, ready to expand to<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_47"></a>[47]</span> -all the beauty of the world? Whose fault was it if -he now longed to hide his besmirched and dishonoured -head under the ground? He could not say. -But this he did know, that the patience of his soul -was exhausted!</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Of course Makar would have been calmer could -he have seen the effect that his speech was having -on the Toyon, or how each of his wrathful words fell -into the golden bowl like a plummet of lead. But he -saw nothing of this because his heart was overwhelmed -with blind despair.</p> - -<p>He had gone over again the whole of his bitter -existence. How had he managed to bear the terrible -burden until now? He had borne it because the star -of hope had still beckoned him onward, shining like -a watch-fire through mists of toil and doubt. He -was alive, therefore he might, he would, know a happier -fate. But now he stood at the end, and the star -had gone out.</p> - -<p>Darkness fell on his soul, and rage broke over it -as a tempest breaks over the steppe in the night. -He forgot who he was and before whose face he -stood; he forgot all but his wrath.</p> - -<p>But the old Toyon said to him:</p> - -<p>“Wait a moment, baraksan! You are not on -earth. There is justice here for you, also.”</p> - -<p>At that Makar trembled. The idea that some one -pitied him dawned upon his mind and filled and softened<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_48"></a>[48]</span> -his heart, but because his whole miserable existence -now lay exposed before him from his first day -to his last, unbearable self-pity overwhelmed him and -he burst into tears.</p> - -<p>And the ancient Toyon wept with him. And old -Father Ivan wept, and the young servants of God -shed tears and wiped them away with their wide -sleeves.</p> - -<p>And the scales wavered, and the wooden bowl rose -ever higher and higher!</p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_49"></a>[49]</span> -<h2 class="nobreak">THE MURMURING FOREST</h2> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_50"></a>[50]</span></p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_51"></a>[51]</span> -<p class="ph1">THE MURMURING FOREST</p> -</div> - -<p class="caption">A LEGEND OF THE POLYESIE<a id="FNanchor_4" href="#Footnote_4" class="fnanchor">[D]</a></p> - - -<h3>I</h3> - -<p>The forest was murmuring.</p> - -<p>There was always a murmuring in this forest, long-drawn, -monotonous, like the undertones of a distant -bell, like a faint song without words, like vague -memories of the past. There was always a murmuring -in the forest because it was a dense wood of ancient -pines, untouched as yet by the axe and saw of -the timber merchant. The tall, century-old trees -with their mighty red-brown trunks stood in frowning -ranks, proudly thrusting their green, interwoven -tops aloft. The air under them was still and -sweet with resin; bright ferns pierced the carpet of -needles with which the ground was clothed, and superbly -displayed their motionless, fringed foliage. -Tall, green grass-blades had shot upward in the moist -places, and there, too, white clover-heads drooped -heavily, as if overcome with gentle languor. And -always overhead, without a pause and without an end, -droned the voice of the forest, the low sighing of the -ancient pines.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_52"></a>[52]</span>But now these sighs had grown deeper and louder. -I was riding along a woodland path, and although -the sky was invisible, I knew, under the darkly frowning -trees, that a storm was gathering overhead. The -hour was late. A few last rays of sunlight were still -filtering in here and there between the tree-trunks, -but misty shadows had already begun to gather in the -thickets. A thunder-storm was brewing for the night. -I was forced to abandon all idea of continuing the -chase that day, and could only think of reaching a -night’s lodging before the storm broke. My horse -struck his hoof against a bare root, snorted, and -pricked his ears, harkening to the muffled impacts of -the forest echo. Then of his own accord he turned -his steps into the well-known path that led to the hut -of the forest guard.</p> - -<p>A dog barked. White plastered walls gleamed -among the thinning tree-trunks, a blue wisp of smoke -appeared, curling upward under the overshadowing -branches, and a lop-sided cottage with a dilapidated -roof stood before me, sheltering under a wall of ruddy -tree-trunks. It seemed to have sunk down upon the -ground, while the proud graceful pines nodded their -heads, high, high above it. In the centre of the -clearing stood two oak trees, huddling close to one -another.</p> - -<p>Here lived the foresters Zakhar and Maksim, the -invariable companions of my hunting expeditions. -But now they were evidently away from home, for<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_53"></a>[53]</span> -no one came out of the house at the barking of the -great collie. Only their old grandfather with his -bald head and his grey whiskers was sitting on a -bench outside the door, braiding shoes of bast. The -old man’s beard swept almost to his belt; his eyes -were vague as if he were trying in vain to remember -something.</p> - -<p>“Good evening, daddy! Is any one at home?”</p> - -<p>“Eh, hey,” mumbled the old man, shaking his -head; “neither Zakhar nor Maksim is here and -Motria has gone into the wood for the cow. The cow -has run away; perhaps the bears have eaten her. -And so there is no one in the cottage.”</p> - -<p>“Well, well, never mind. I’ll sit here with you and -wait.”</p> - -<p>“Yes, sit down and wait!” the old man nodded, and -watched me with dim, watery eyes as I tied my horse -to the branch of one of the oaks. The old man was -failing fast. He was nearly blind and his hands -trembled.</p> - -<p>“And who are you, lad?” he asked, as I sat down -on the bench.</p> - -<p>I was accustomed to hearing this question at every -visit.</p> - -<p>“Eh, hey; now I know, now I know,” said the old -man, resuming his work on the shoe. “My old head -is like a sieve; nothing stays in it now. I remember -people who died a long time ago, oh, I remember them<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_54"></a>[54]</span> -well! But I forget new people. I have lived in this -world a long time.”</p> - -<p>“Have you lived in this forest long, daddy?”</p> - -<p>“Eh, hey; a long time! When the Frenchmen -came into the Tsar’s country I was here.”</p> - -<p>“You have seen much in your day. You must -have many stories to tell.”</p> - -<p>The old man looked at me with surprise.</p> - -<p>“And what would I have seen, lad? I have seen -the forest. The forest murmurs night and day, -winter and summer. One hundred years have I lived -in this forest like that tree there without heeding the -passage of time. And now I must go to my grave, -and sometimes I can’t tell, myself, whether I have -lived in this world or not. Eh, hey; yes, yes. Perhaps, -after all, I have not lived at all.”</p> - -<p>A corner of the dark cloud moved out over the -clearing from behind the close-growing tree-tops, and -the pines that stood about the clearing rocked in the -first gusts of wind. The murmur of the forest swelled -into a great resonant chord. The old man raised -his head and listened.</p> - -<p>“A storm is coming,” he said after a pause. -“I know. Oi, oi! A storm will howl to-night, and -will break the pines and tear them up by the roots. -The Master of the forest will come out.”</p> - -<p>“How do you know that, daddy?”</p> - -<p>“Eh, hey; I know it! I know what the trees are -saying. Trees know what fear is as well as we do.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_55"></a>[55]</span> -There’s the aspen, a worthless tree that’s always getting -broken to pieces. It trembles even when there -is no wind. The pines in the forest sing and play, -but if the wind rises ever so little they raise their -voices and groan. This is nothing yet. There, listen -to that! Although my eyes see badly, my ears can -hear: that was an oak tree rustling. The oaks have -been touched in the clearing. The storm is coming.”</p> - -<p>And, as a matter of fact, the pair of low, gnarled -oak trees that stood in the centre of the clearing, -protected by the high wall of the forest, now waved -their strong branches and gave forth a muffled rustling -easily distinguishable from the clear, resonant -notes of the pines.</p> - -<p>“Eh, hey; do you hear that, lad?” asked the old -man with a childishly cunning smile. “When the -oak trees mutter like that, it means that the Master -is coming out at night to break them. But no, he -won’t break them! The oak is a strong tree, too -strong even for the Master. Yes indeed!”</p> - -<p>“What Master, daddy? You say yourself it is the -storm that breaks them.”</p> - -<p>The old man nodded his head with a crafty look.</p> - -<p>“Eh, hey; I know that! They tell me there are -some people in the world these days who don’t believe -in anything. Yes indeed! But I have seen -him as plainly as I see you now, and better, because -my eyes are old now, and they were young then. Oi, -oi! How well I could see when I was young!”</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_56"></a>[56]</span>“When did you see him, daddy? Tell me, do!”</p> - -<p>“It was an evening just like this. The pines began -to groan in the forest. First they sang and -then they groaned: oh-ah-o-oh-a-h! And then they -stopped, and then they began again louder and more -pitifully than ever. Eh, hey; they groaned because -they knew that the Master would throw down many -of them that night! And then the oak trees began to -talk. And toward evening things grew worse until <i>he</i> -came whirling along with the night. He ran through -the forest laughing and crying, dancing and spinning, -and always swooping down on those oak trees -and trying to tear them up by the roots. And once -in the Autumn I looked out of the window, and <i>he</i> -didn’t like that. He came rushing up to the window -and, bang-bang, he broke it with a pine knot. He -nearly hit my face, bad luck to him! But I’m no -fool. I jumped back. Eh, hey; lad, that’s the sort -of a quarrelsome fellow he is!”</p> - -<p>“But what does he look like?”</p> - -<p>“He looks exactly like an old willow tree in a -marsh. Just exactly! His hair is like dry mistletoe -on a tree, and his beard too; but his nose is like a -big fat pine knot and his mouth is as twisted as if it -were all overgrown with lichen. Bah, how ugly he -is! God pity any Christian that looks like him! Yes -indeed! I saw him once quite close, in a swamp. If -you’ll come here in the winter you can see <i>him</i> for -yourself. You must go in that direction, up that<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_57"></a>[57]</span> -hill—it is covered with woods—and climb to the very -top of the highest tree. He can sometimes be seen -from there racing along over the tree-tops, carrying -a white staff in his hand, and whirling, whirling until -he whirls down the hill into the valley. Then he runs -away and disappears into the forest. Eh, hey! And -wherever he steps he leaves a foot-print of white -snow. If you don’t believe an old man come and see -for yourself.”</p> - -<p>The old man babbled on; the excited, anxious -voices of the forest and the impending storm seemed -to have set his old blood racing. The aged gaffer -laughed and blinked his faded eyes.</p> - -<p>But suddenly a shadow flitted across his high, -wrinkled forehead. He nudged me with his elbow -and said with a mysterious look:</p> - -<p>“Let me tell you something, lad. Of course the -Master of the forest is a worthless, good-for-nothing -creature, that is true. It disgusts a Christian to -see an ugly face like his, but let me tell you the truth -about him: he never does any one any harm. He -plays jokes on people, of course, but as for hurting -them, he never would do that!”</p> - -<p>“But you said yourself, daddy, that he tried to -hit you with a pine knot.”</p> - -<p>“Eh, hey; he tried to! But he was angry then -because I was looking at him through the window; -yes indeed! But if you don’t go poking your nose -into his affairs he’ll never play you a dirty trick.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_58"></a>[58]</span> -That’s what he’s like. Worse things have been done -by men than by him in this forest. Eh, hey; they -have indeed!”</p> - -<p>The old man’s head dropped forward on to his -breast and he sat silent for several minutes. Then -he looked at me, and a ray of awakening memory -seemed to gleam through the film that fogged his -eyes.</p> - -<p>“I’ll tell you an old story of our forest, lad. It -happened here in this very place, a long, long time -ago. Almost always I remember it as in a dream. -But when the forest begins to talk more loudly, I -remember it well. Shall I tell it to you?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, do, daddy! Tell me!”</p> - -<p>“Very well, I’ll tell you; eh, hey! Listen!”</p> - - -<h3>II</h3> - -<p>My father and mother died, you know, a long time -ago when I was only a little lad. They left me -in the world alone. That’s what happened to me, -eh, hey! Well, the village warden looked at me -and thought: “What shall we do with this boy?” -And the lord of the manor thought the same thing. -And at that time Raman, the forest guard, came -out of the forest, and he said to the warden: “Let -me have that boy to take back to my cottage with -me. I’ll take good care of him. It will be company<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_59"></a>[59]</span> -for me in the forest and he will be fed.” That’s -what he said, and the warden answered: “Take -him!” So he took me. And I have lived in the forest -ever since.</p> - -<p>Raman brought me up here. God forbid that any -one should look as terrible as he did! His eyes were -black, his hair was black, and a dark soul looked -out of his eyes because the man had lived alone in -the forest all his life. The bears, people said, were -his brothers and the wolves were his nephews. He -knew all the wild animals and was afraid of none, -but he kept away from people and wouldn’t even -look at them. That’s what he was like. It’s the -honest truth. When he looked at me I felt as if a -cat were tickling my back with its tail. But he was -a good man all the same, and I must say he fed me -well. We always had buckwheat porridge with -grease, and a duck if he happened to kill one. Yes, -he fed me well; it’s the truth and I must say it.</p> - -<p>So we two lived together. Raman used to go out -into the forest every day and lock me up in the cottage -so that the wild animals shouldn’t eat me. Then -they gave him a wife called Aksana.</p> - -<p>The Count, who was the lord of the manor, gave -him his wife. He called Raman to the village and -said to him:</p> - -<p>“Come, Raman, you must marry.”</p> - -<p>“How can I marry? What should I do with a wife<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_60"></a>[60]</span> -in the forest when I already have a boy there? I -don’t want to marry!” he said.</p> - -<p>He wasn’t used to girls, that’s what the matter -was. But the Count was sly. When I remember -him, lad, I think to myself: there are no men like -him now, they are all gone. Take yourself, for -instance. They say you are a Count’s son too. That -may be true, but you haven’t got the—well the real -thing, in you. You’re a miserable little snip of a -boy, that’s all you are.</p> - -<p>But he was a real one, just as they used to be. -You may think it a funny thing that a hundred men -should tremble before one, but look at the falcon, -boy, and the chicken! Both are hatched out of an -egg, but the falcon longs to soar as soon as his wings -are strong. Then, when he screams in the sky, how -not only the little chickens but the old cocks run! -The noble is a falcon, the peasant is a hen.</p> - -<p>I remember when I was a little boy seeing thirty -peasants hauling heavy logs out of the forest and -the Count riding along alone on his horse, twirling -his whiskers. The horse under him was prancing, but -he kept looking from side to side. Oi, oi! When the -peasants met the Count, how they got out of his -way, turning their horses aside into the snow, and -how they took off their caps! They had heavy work -afterwards pulling the logs out of the snow back on -to the road while the Count galloped away. The -road had been too narrow for him to pass the peasants<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_61"></a>[61]</span> -of course! Whenever the Count moved an eyebrow -the peasants trembled. When he laughed, they -laughed; when he frowned, they cried. No one ever -opposed the Count; it had never been done.</p> - -<p>But Raman had grown up in the forest and did -not know the ways of the world, so the Count was -not very angry when he refused the girl.</p> - -<p>“I want you to marry,” the Count said. “Why I -want you to do it is my business. Take Aksana.”</p> - -<p>“I don’t want to,” answered Raman. “I don’t -want her. Let the Devil marry her, I won’t! There -now!”</p> - -<p>The Count ordered a knout to be brought. They -stretched Raman out, and the Count asked him:</p> - -<p>“Will you marry, Raman?”</p> - -<p>“No,” he answered, “I won’t.”</p> - -<p>“Then give it to him on the back,” commanded the -Count, “as hard as you can lay it on.”</p> - -<p>They gave it to him good and hard. Raman was -a strong man, but he got tired of it at last.</p> - -<p>“All right, stop!” he cried. “That’s enough. May -all the devils in hell take her! I won’t suffer this -torture for any woman! Give her to me; I’ll marry -her!”</p> - -<p>Now there lived at the Count’s castle a huntsman -named Opanas. Opanas came riding in from the -fields just as they were persuading Raman to be -married. He heard Raman’s trouble and fell at the -Count’s feet. He fell down and kissed them.</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_62"></a>[62]</span>“What’s the use of thrashing that man, kind master?” -he asked. “Better let me marry Aksana with -a free will.”</p> - -<p>Eh, hey; he wanted to marry her himself. That’s -what he wanted, yes indeed!</p> - -<p>So Raman was pleased and grew happy again. He -got up and tied up his breeches and said:</p> - -<p>“That’s splendid!” says he. “But why couldn’t -you have come a little sooner, man? And the Count -too—that’s how it always is! Wouldn’t it have been -better to have found out first who wanted to marry -her? Instead of that they grab the first man that -comes along and begin flogging him! Do you think -that is Christian?” he asked. “Bah!”</p> - -<p>Eh, hey; he didn’t have any mercy on the Count, -that’s the sort of man Raman was. When he got -angry it was safest to keep out of his way, even for a -Count. But the Count was sly! You see he was -after something. He ordered Raman to be stretched -out on the grass.</p> - -<p>“I want to make you happy, fool!” he cried. “And -you turn up your nose at me! You are living alone -now like a bear in his den; it is dull for me when I -come to see you. Lay it on to the fool until he says -he has had enough! As for you Opanas, go to the -devil! You weren’t asked to this party,” he said. -“So don’t sit down at the table unless you want to -be entertained like Raman.”</p> - -<p>But Raman’s anger had gone beyond joking by<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_63"></a>[63]</span> -that time, eh, hey! They tickled him well, and, -you know, people in those days could take a man’s -hide off beautifully with a knout, but he lay quite -still and never said: that’s enough! He endured it a -long time, but at last he spat and cried:</p> - -<p>“It’s not right to baste a Christian like this for -a woman without even counting the stripes! That’s -enough! And may your hands shrivel and drop off, -you accursed servants! The devil himself must have -taught you to use the knout. Do you think I’m a -bundle of wheat on a threshing floor that you beat -me like this? If that’s your idea, I’m going to get -married.”</p> - -<p>Then the Count laughed.</p> - -<p>“That’s splendid!” he cried. “Though you won’t -be able to sit down at your wedding, you will dance -all the livelier.”</p> - -<p>The Count was a jolly man, indeed he was, eh, -hey! Something bad happened to him afterwards -though; God forbid that anything like that should -ever happen to any Christian! I wouldn’t wish it for -any one. It wouldn’t be right to wish it even for a -Jew. That’s what I think about it.</p> - -<p>Well, they got Raman married. He brought his -young wife to this cottage, and at first he did nothing -but scold her and blame her for his thrashing.</p> - -<p>“You’re not worth a thrashing to any man!” he -used to say.</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_64"></a>[64]</span>As soon as he came home out of the forest he would -chase her out of the house shouting:</p> - -<p>“Away with you! I don’t want a woman in my -house! Don’t let me see you here again! I don’t -like to have a woman sleeping here. I don’t like the -smell.”</p> - -<p>Eh, hey!</p> - -<p>But later he got used to her. Aksana swept -out the hut and painted it to look nice and clean, and -put the china neatly away, and at last everything -shone so brightly that one’s heart grew merry at -the sight of it. Raman saw what a good woman she -was, and little by little he got used to her. Yes, he -not only got used to her, lad, he began to love her. -Yes indeed, I am telling you the truth. That’s what -happened to Raman. When he found out what the -woman was like he said:</p> - -<p>“Thanks to the Count I have learnt what a good -thing is. What a fool I was! How many stripes I -took, and now I see that it isn’t so bad after all! It -is even good. That’s the truth!”</p> - -<p>And so some time passed, I don’t know exactly how -much. Then one day Aksana lay down on a bench -and began to groan. That evening she was ill, and -when I woke up in the morning I heard a shrill little -voice squeaking. Eh, hey, I thought to myself, I -know what has happened, a baby has been born! And -so it had.</p> - -<p>The baby did not stay long in this world. Only<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_65"></a>[65]</span> -from that morning until night. It stopped squeaking -in the evening. Aksana cried, but Raman said:</p> - -<p>“The child has gone, so now we won’t call in the -priest. We can bury it ourselves under a pine tree.”</p> - -<p>That’s what Raman said. And he not only said -it, he did it. He dug a little grave under a tree and -buried the child. There stands the old stump of the -tree to this day. It has been split by lightning. Yes, -that is the same pine tree under which Raman buried -the child. And I’ll tell you something, boy: to this -day when the sun goes down and the stars shine out -over the forest a little bird comes flying to that tree -and cries. It pipes so sadly, poor little bird, -that one’s heart aches to hear it. It is the little -unchristened soul crying for a cross. A learned man, -they say, who knows things out of books, could give -it a cross and then it would not fly about any more. -But we live here in the forest and don’t know anything. -It comes flying up begging for help and all -we can say is: “You poor, poor little soul, we can’t -do anything for you!” So then it cries and flies -away, and next day it comes back again. Ah, boy, -I’m sorry for the poor little soul!</p> - -<p>Well, when Aksana got well again she was always -going to the grave. She would sit on the grave and -cry; sometimes she would cry so loudly that her voice -could be heard through the whole forest. She was -grieving for her baby, but Raman did not grieve for<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_66"></a>[66]</span> -the baby, he grieved for her. He used to come back -out of the forest and stand by Aksana and say:</p> - -<p>“Be quiet, silly woman! What is there to cry -for? One child has died but there may be another. -And a better one, perhaps! Because that -one may not have been mine, I don’t know whether -it was or not, but the next one will be mine!”</p> - -<p>Aksana did not like it when he talked like that. -She would stop crying and begin to howl at him with -bad words. Then Raman would get angry.</p> - -<p>“What are you howling for?” he would ask. “I -didn’t say anything of the kind. I only said I didn’t -know. And the reason I don’t know is because you -were living in the world among men then, and not in -the forest. So how can I be sure? Now you are living -in the forest; now it is all right. Old granny -Feodosia said when I went to the village to fetch her: -‘Your baby came very quickly, Raman.’ And I said -to the old woman: ‘How do I know whether it came -quickly or not?’ But come now, stop bawling or I’ll -get angry, and might even beat you.”</p> - -<p>Well, Aksana would shout at him for a while and -then she would stop. She would scold him and hit -him on the back, but when Raman began to get angry -himself she would grow quiet. She would be frightened. -She used to embrace him then, and kiss him, -and look into his eyes. Then my Raman would grow -quiet again. Because, you know, lad—but you probably -don’t know, though I do, even if I have never<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_67"></a>[67]</span> -married, because I’m an old man—I know that a -young woman is so sweet to kiss that she can twist -any man around her finger at will no matter how -angry he is. Oi, oi, I know what these women are! -And Aksana was a tidy young thing; one doesn’t see -her like now-a-days. I’ll tell you, lad, women are not -what they were.</p> - -<p>Well, one day a horn blew in the forest: tara-tara-ta-ta! -That’s how it echoed through the forest, -clearly and gaily. I was a little fellow then and -didn’t know what it was. I saw the birds rising from -their nests and flapping their wings and screaming, -and I saw the hares skipping over the ground with -their ears laid back, as fast as they could scamper. -I thought perhaps it was some unknown wild animal -making that pretty noise. But it was not a wild -animal, it was the Count trotting through the forest -on his horse and blowing his horn. Behind him came -his huntsmen leading their hounds on the leash. The -handsomest of all the huntsmen was Opanas, caracoling -behind the Count dressed in a long blue Cossack -coat. Opanas’ cap had a peaked golden crown, his -horse was capering under him, his carbine was glistening -on his back, and his bandura<a id="FNanchor_5" href="#Footnote_5" class="fnanchor">[E]</a> was slung across -his shoulder by a strap. The Count liked Opanas -because he played well on the bandura and was an -expert at singing songs. Ah, this lad Opanas was<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_68"></a>[68]</span> -handsome, terribly handsome! The Count simply -didn’t compare with Opanas. The Count was bald -and his nose was red and his eyes, though they were -merry, were not like those of Opanas! When Opanas -looked at me—at me, a little whipper-snapper—I -couldn’t help laughing, and I wasn’t a young girl! -People said that Opanas’ father was a Cossack from -beyond the Dnieper; every one there is handsome and -nimble and sleek. And think, boy, the difference -there is between flying across the plains like a bird -with a horse and a lance, and chopping wood with -an axe!</p> - -<p>Well, I ran out of the hut and looked, and there -came the Count and stopped right in front of the -house, and the huntsmen stopped too. Raman ran -out of the hut and held the Count’s stirrup and the -Count climbed down from his horse. Raman bowed -to him.</p> - -<p>“Good day!” the Count says to Raman.</p> - -<p>“Eh, hey,” answers Raman. “I’m very well, -thanks, and how are you?”</p> - -<p>You see, Raman didn’t know how to answer the -Count as he ought to have done. The attendants all -laughed at his words and the Count laughed too.</p> - -<p>“I’m very glad you are well,” says the Count. -“And where is your wife?”</p> - -<p>“Where should my wife be? My wife is in the -hut.”</p> - -<p>“Then we’ll go into the hut,” says the Count.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_69"></a>[69]</span> -“And meanwhile light a fire, lads, and prepare something -to eat, for we have come to congratulate the -young couple.”</p> - -<p>So they went into the hut; the Count, and Opanas, -and Raman bareheaded behind them with Bogdan, -the oldest of the huntsmen and the Count’s -faithful servant. There are no servants like him in -the world now.</p> - -<p>Bogdan was old and ruled the other attendants -sternly, but in the Count’s presence he was like that -dog there. There was no one in the world for Bogdan -except the Count. People said that when Bogdan’s -father and mother had died he had asked the old -Count for a house and land, for he wanted to marry. -But the old Count would not allow it. He made him -the young Count’s servant and said: “There are -your mother and father and wife!” So Bogdan took -the boy and taught him to ride and shoot. And the -young Count grew up and began to rule in his -father’s place, and old Bogdan still followed him like -a dog.</p> - -<p>Okh, I’ll tell you the truth. Many people have -cursed Bogdan; many tears have fallen because of -him, and all on account of the Count. At one word -from the Count, Bogdan would have torn his own -father to shreds.</p> - -<p>Well, I was a little fellow, and I ran into the house -behind the Count. I was curious to see what would -happen. Wherever he went I went too.</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_70"></a>[70]</span>Well, I looked, and there, standing in the middle -of the hut, I saw the Count stroking his whiskers and -laughing. And there was Raman standing first on -one foot and then on another, crushing his hat in -his hands, and there, too, was Opanas leaning against -the wall, looking, poor fellow, like a young oak in -a storm. He was frowning and sad.</p> - -<p>All three were turned toward Aksana. Only old -Bogdan was sitting on a bench in a corner with his -top-knot<a id="FNanchor_6" href="#Footnote_6" class="fnanchor">[F]</a> hanging down, waiting for the Count to -give him an order. Aksana was standing in a corner -by the stove with her eyes on the floor, as crimson -as that poppy there in the barley. Okh, it was plain -the witch felt that something wicked was about to -happen because of her. Let me tell you something, -lad: if three men stand looking at one woman nothing -good ever comes of it. Hair is sure to fly, if -nothing worse. I know that, because I have seen it -happen myself.</p> - -<p>“How now, Raman, lad?” laughed the Count. -“Did I give you a good wife or not?”</p> - -<p>“Not bad,” answered Raman. “The woman will -do.”</p> - -<p>Here Opanas shrugged his shoulders, raised his -eyes to Aksana, and muttered:</p> - -<p>“What a woman she is! If only that goose hadn’t -got her!”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_71"></a>[71]</span>Raman overheard the words and turned to Opanas -and said:</p> - -<p>“Why do I seem a goose to you, Lord Opanas? -Eh, hey; tell me that!”</p> - -<p>“Because you don’t know how to protect your -wife; that’s why you’re a goose.”</p> - -<p>That’s what Opanas said to him! The Count -stamped his foot. Bogdan shook his head, but Raman -thought a minute and then raised his head -and looked at the Count.</p> - -<p>“Why should I protect her?” he asked Opanas, -but his eyes were fixed on the Count. “There’s no -one here in the forest except wild beasts, unless it -is our gracious Count when he comes. Whom should -I protect her from? Look out, you misbegotten -Cossack you, don’t provoke me, or before you know -it I’ll have you by the forelock!”</p> - -<p>And perhaps the business would have ended in a -thrashing if the Count hadn’t interfered. He -stamped his foot, and every one was silent.</p> - -<p>“Gently there, you Devil’s spawn,” he said. “You -didn’t come here to fight. Congratulate the young -people first, and then in the evening we’ll go hunting -on the marsh. Here, follow me!”</p> - -<p>The Count turned on his heel and left the hut. -The attendants had already spread a dinner under -the trees. Bogdan followed the Count, but Opanas -stayed with Raman in the front entry.</p> - -<p>“Don’t be angry with me, brother,” said the Cossack.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_72"></a>[72]</span> -“Listen to what Opanas has to tell you. You -saw how I rolled in the dust at the Count’s feet, and -kissed his boots, and begged him to give me Aksana? -Well, God bless you, man! The priest has tied you -up; it’s your luck, I see, but my heart can’t stand -that wicked fellow making sport of you and of her -again. Hey ho, no one knows what I have in my -heart! It would be well were I to lay him in the -cold ground for a bed with the help of my gun!”</p> - -<p>Raman stared at the Cossack and asked:</p> - -<p>“Have you gone out of your head this hour, Cossack?”</p> - -<p>I did not hear what Opanas began whispering to -Raman in the front entry in answer to this; I only -heard Raman clap him on the back.</p> - -<p>“Okh, Opanas, Opanas! How wicked and cunning -people are in this world! I knew nothing of -this, living in the forest. Eh, hey, Count, Count, -what evil you have brought on your head!”</p> - -<p>“Come!” Opanas says to him. “Go now, and don’t -show anything, especially before Bogdan. You’re a -simple man and that hound of the Count’s is crafty. -Be sure you don’t drink much of the Count’s wine; -and if he sends you out on the marsh with the huntsmen -and himself wants to stay behind, lead the huntsmen -to the old oak tree, put them on a round-about -road, and tell them that you are going to walk -straight through the forest. Then come back here -as quick as you can.”</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_73"></a>[73]</span>“Good,” says Raman. “It’s hunting I shall go, -though my gun won’t be loaded with bird-shot for -little birds, but with a good stout bullet for a bear.”</p> - -<p>Then they went out. The Count was sitting on a -carpet on the ground. He ordered a flagon of wine -and a goblet to be brought to him, filled a goblet full -and passed it to Raman. Eh, hey; the Count’s flagon -and goblet were fair to see and his wine was better -still. One little goblet, and your heart would be full -of happiness; another, and it would leap in your -breast; if a man were not used to it he would roll -under his seat after the third unless a woman were -there to lay him on top of it.</p> - -<p>Eh, hey; I tell you, the Count was clever. He -wanted to make Raman drunk on his wine, but there -was no wine in the world that could overpower Raman. -He emptied one goblet from the Count’s hands -and then another, and still another, until his eyes -glowed like a wolf’s and his black whiskers began to -twitch. The Count at last grew angry.</p> - -<p>“How sturdily that Devil’s spawn can lap up the -wine and never blink an eye! Any other fellow -would have been blubbering by now, but look at him, -lads; he is laughing still!”</p> - -<p>The wicked Count well knew that if a man cried -from wine his top-knot would soon be trailing on the -table. But this time he had mistaken his man.</p> - -<p>“And why should I cry?” asked Raman in return. -“That would even be rude. The gracious Count<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_74"></a>[74]</span> -comes to congratulate me on my marriage and I -begin to howl like a woman! Thank God I have nothing -to cry for yet; let my enemies do the crying!”</p> - -<p>“That means you are contented?” asks the Count.</p> - -<p>“Eh, hey! And why should I be discontented?”</p> - -<p>“Do you remember how I betrothed you with the -help of a knout?”</p> - -<p>“How should I not remember? I was a foolish -man then and didn’t know bitter from sweet. The -knout was bitter, but I loved it better than a woman. -Thanks to you, gracious Count, this fool has learned -to eat honey.”</p> - -<p>“All right, all right,” says the Count. “And now -I want you to do me a good turn. Go out on the -marsh with my huntsmen and shoot as many birds as -you can, and especially do I want you to get me a -blackcock.”</p> - -<p>“And when does the Count send us out on the -marsh?” asks Raman.</p> - -<p>“When you have had one more drink. Opanas -will sing us a song, and then go in God’s name.”</p> - -<p>Raman fixes his eyes on the Count and says:</p> - -<p>“That will not be easy. It is late, the marsh is -far, and, besides, the forest is murmuring in the wind; -there will be a storm to-night. How can one kill -a shy bird on an evening like this?”</p> - -<p>But the Count was drunk, and he was always -powerfully bad-tempered in his cups. He heard his -attendants whispering among themselves that “surely<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_75"></a>[75]</span> -Raman was right, there would soon be a storm,” and -he was very angry. He slammed down his goblet and -glared about him. Every man held his tongue.</p> - -<p>Only Opanas was not afraid; he stepped out as -the Count had told him to do to sing his song with his -bandura. He tuned it, glanced sideways at the -Count, and said:</p> - -<p>“Come to your senses, gracious Lord! When has -it ever been known that men went hunting birds at -night, in a dark forest, in the midst of a storm?”</p> - -<p>That’s how bold he was! The other serfs of the -Count were afraid, of course, but he was a free man -of Cossack birth. An old Cossack player of the -bandura had brought him as a youngster from the -Ukraine. There, lad, the people had made trouble in -the town of Uman. They had put out this old Cossack’s -eyes, cut off his ears, and sent him out like -that into the world. So he had walked and walked, -from village to town, and wandered into our country -with the little lad Opanas as his guide. The -old Count took him into his house because he loved -beautiful songs. So when the old man died, Opanas -grew up in the palace. The young Count grew to -like him, and would often endure speeches from -him for which he would have flayed three skins off -the back of another man.</p> - -<p>So it was now. He was angry at first, and the -men thought he was going to hit the Cossack, but -he soon spoke to Opanas and said:</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_76"></a>[76]</span>“Oi, Opanas, Opanas! You’re a clever lad, but it’s -plain you don’t understand that no man should put -his nose in the crack of a door for fear some one -might slam it.”</p> - -<p>That’s how he guessed the Cossack’s riddle! And -the Cossack saw at once he had guessed it. And he -answered the Count in a song. Oi, if the Count had -been able to understand a Cossack song, his Countess -might not have had to shed tears over him that night! -“Thank you, Count, for your wisdom,” said Opanas. -“Now in return I am going to sing to you. Listen -well.”</p> - -<p>Then he raised his head and looked up at the sky; -he saw an eagle soaring there and the wind driving -the dark clouds along. He listened and heard the -tall pines murmuring.</p> - -<p>And once more he struck the strings of his -bandura.</p> - -<p>Eh, lad, you never chanced to hear Opanas play, -and now you will never hear it! The bandura is a -simple trick, but oh, how well a man who knows it can -make it talk! When Opanas ran his hand across -the strings it told him everything: how the dark pine -forest sings in a storm; how the wind hums through -the sedge on the desert steppe; how the dry grass -whispers on a high Cossack grave.</p> - -<p>No, lad, you won’t hear such playing as that now-a-days!</p> - -<p>All kinds of people come here now that have been<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_77"></a>[77]</span> -not only in our Polyesie but in other countries as -well: all over the Ukraine, in Chirigin and Poltava -and Kiev. They say that players of the bandura -are out of fashion now and that you never hear them -at fairs and in the bazaars. I still have an old bandura -hanging on the wall of the hut. Opanas taught -me to play it, but no one has learnt to play it -from me. When I die—and that will be soon—who -knows, perhaps nobody in the wide world will ever -hear the notes of a bandura again. No, indeed!</p> - -<p>And Opanas began singing a song in a low voice. -Opanas’ voice was not loud; it was brooding and sad, -and went straight to the heart. And the song, lad, -was made up for the Count by the Cossack himself. -I have never heard it again, and when, later, I used -to tease Opanas to sing it, he always refused.</p> - -<p>“The man for whom that song was sung,” he would -say, “is no longer in this world.”</p> - -<p>The Cossack told the Count all the truth in that -song, and what the Count’s fate would be, and the -Count wept; the tears even trickled down his beard, -and yet it was plain that not one word did he understand.</p> - -<p>Okh, I can’t remember the song; I can only remember -a few words. The Cossack sang about Count -Ivan:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="first">“Oi, Ivan! Alas, oi, Count!</div> -<div class="verse">The Count is clever and much he knows.</div><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_78"></a>[78]</span> -<div class="verse">He knows that the falcon soars in the sky, and falls upon the crow.</div> -<div class="verse">Oi, Ivan! Alas, oi, Count!</div> -<div class="verse">But the Count does not know</div> -<div class="verse">How it is in this world,</div> -<div class="verse">That the crow will at last kill the falcon at its nest.”</div> -</div></div> - -<p>There, lad! I seem to hear that song at this moment, -and to see those men again. There stands the -Cossack with his bandura; the Count is sitting on -his carpet; his head is bowed, and he is weeping. The -Count’s men are gathered about him and are nudging -one another with their elbows, and old Bogdan -is shaking his head. And the forest is murmuring, -just as it is murmuring now, and the bandura is -chiming softly, dreamily, while the Cossack sings of -how the Countess wept over the grave of Count Ivan:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="first">“She cries, the Countess cries,</div> -<div class="verse">While over the grave of Count Ivan a black crow flies.”</div> -</div></div> - -<p>Okh, the Count did not understand that song. He -wiped his eyes and said:</p> - -<p>“Come now, Raman! Come, lads, mount your -horses! And you, Opanas, ride with them; I’ve had -enough of your singing! That was a good song, only -you sang of things that never happen in this world.”</p> - -<p>But the Cossack’s heart was softened by his song -and his eyes were dim.</p> - -<p>“Okh, Count, Count,” says Opanas. “In my country -the old men say that legends and songs contain<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_79"></a>[79]</span> -the truth. But in legends the truth is like iron that -has passed through the world from hand to hand for -many years and has grown rusty. But the truth in -songs is like gold that rust will never corrode. That’s -what the old men say!”</p> - -<p>But the Count waved his hand.</p> - -<p>“It may be so in your country, but here it is not -so. Go, go, Opanas; I am tired of listening to you.”</p> - -<p>The Cossack stood still for a moment and then fell -at the Count’s feet.</p> - -<p>“Do as I beseech you, Count!” he cried. “Mount -your horse and ride home to your Countess! My -heart foretells disaster.”</p> - -<p>At that the Count grew angry in earnest. He -kicked the Cossack aside with his boot as if he had -been a dog.</p> - -<p>“Get out of my sight!” he shouted. “Now I see -that you’re not a Cossack but an old woman! Leave -me, or evil will befall you! What are you waiting -for, hounds? Am I no longer your master? Here, -I’ll show you something that your fathers never saw -done by my father!”</p> - -<p>Opanas rose like a dark thunder-cloud and exchanged -glances with Raman. Raman was standing -off at one side, leaning on his carbine as if nothing -had happened.</p> - -<p>The Cossack struck his bandura against a tree; -the bandura flew to pieces and the sound of its groan -echoed through the forest.</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_80"></a>[80]</span>“Very well, then!” he cried. “Let the devils in -the next world teach him who will not hear wise counsel -in this! I see, Count, you have no need of a -faithful servant!”</p> - -<p>Before the Count could answer Opanas had jumped -into his saddle and ridden away. The other attendants -mounted their horses too. Raman shouldered -his carbine and walked away; as he passed the hut -he called out to Aksana:</p> - -<p>“Put the boy to sleep, Aksana; it is time. And -prepare a bed for the Count!”</p> - -<p>They had soon all ridden away into the wood by -that road there, and the Count went into the hut; -only the Count’s horse was left standing outside, tied -to a tree. Night was already falling; a murmur was -going about the forest, and a few drops of rain were -falling, just as they are now. Aksana laid me to -sleep in the hayloft and made the sign of the cross -over me for the night. I could hear my Aksana -crying.</p> - -<p>Okh, what could a little lad like me understand of -all that was going on? I wrapped myself in the -hay and lay listening to the storm singing its song -in the forest until I began to fall asleep.</p> - -<p>Eh, hey! Suddenly I heard footsteps outside the -hut. They reached the tree, and some one untied the -Count’s horse. The horse snorted and stamped and -galloped away into the forest. The sound of its -hoofs soon died away in the distance. But before<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_81"></a>[81]</span> -long I heard galloping again; some one was coming -down the road. This man rode up post haste, -jumped down from his saddle, and rushed to the -window of the hut.</p> - -<p>“Count! Count!” cried the voice of old Bogdan. -“Oi, Count! Open the door quickly! That devil of -a Cossack means harm! He has let your horse loose -in the forest!”</p> - -<p>Before the old man had time to finish his sentence -he was seized from behind. I was frightened, for I -heard something fall.</p> - -<p>The Count tore open the door and jumped out -with his carbine in his hand, but Raman caught him -in the front entry right by the top-knot as he had -done the other, and flung him to the ground as well.</p> - -<p>The Count saw that things were going badly for -him and he cried:</p> - -<p>“Oi, let me go, Raman, lad! Have you forgotten -the good turn I did you?”</p> - -<p>Raman answered:</p> - -<p>“I remember, wicked Count, the good turn you did -me and my wife. And now I shall pay you for it.”</p> - -<p>But the Count cried again:</p> - -<p>“Help me, help me, Opanas, my faithful servant! -I have loved you as my own son!”</p> - -<p>But Opanas answered:</p> - -<p>“You drove your faithful servant away like a dog. -You have loved me as a stick loves the back which it -beats, and now you love me as the back loves the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_82"></a>[82]</span> -stick which beats it! I begged and implored you to -listen to me. You wouldn’t!”</p> - -<p>Then the Count began calling to Aksana for help.</p> - -<p>“Intercede for me, Aksana; you have a kind -heart!”</p> - -<p>Aksana came running out, wringing her hands.</p> - -<p>“I begged you on my knees, Count, at your feet -I once begged you, to spare my maidenhood, and to-night -I besought you not to defile me, a married -woman. You would not spare me, and now you are -asking mercy for yourself. Okh, do not ask it from -me; what can I do?”</p> - -<p>“Let me go!” cried the Count once more. “You -will all go to Siberia because of me!”</p> - -<p>“Do not grieve for us, Count,” answered Opanas. -“Raman will be out on the marsh before your men -get back, and, as for me, I am alone in the world, -thanks to your kindness. I shan’t worry about myself. -I shall shoulder my carbine and be off into the -forest. I shall gather together a band of lusty lads -and we shall roam through the country, coming forth -out of the forest onto the highroads at night. When -we reach a village we shall make straight for the -Count’s domain. Come on, Raman, lad, raise up the -Count and let us carry his honour out into the rain.”</p> - -<p>Then the Count began to struggle and scream, but -Raman only growled under his breath, and Opanas -laughed. So they went out.</p> - -<p>But I took fright. I rushed into the hut and ran<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_83"></a>[83]</span> -straight to Aksana. My Aksana was sitting on a -bench, as white as that plaster wall.</p> - -<p>And the storm was raging in earnest through the -forest by now; the pines were shouting with many -voices, and the wind was howling, while from time -to time a clap of thunder would rend the air. Aksana -and I sat on a bench, and all at once I heard -someone groan in the forest. Okh, he groaned so -pitifully that to-day when I remember it my heart -grows heavy, and yet it happened many years ago.</p> - -<p>“Aksana,” I asked, “dear Aksana, who is that -groaning in the forest?”</p> - -<p>But she took me in her arms and rocked me and -said:</p> - -<p>“Go to sleep, little lad, it is nothing! It is only—the -forest murmuring.”</p> - -<p>And the forest was murmuring indeed! Oh, how -loudly it was talking that night!</p> - -<p>We sat there together a little while longer and then -I heard what I thought was a shot in the forest.</p> - -<p>“Aksana,” I asked, “dear Aksana, who is that -shooting with a gun?”</p> - -<p>But she only rocked me and answered:</p> - -<p>“Be quiet, be quiet, little lad; that is God’s lightning -striking in the forest.”</p> - -<p>But she herself was crying, and holding me close -to her breast. She rocked me to sleep, repeating -softly:</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_84"></a>[84]</span>“The forest is murmuring; the forest is murmuring, -little lad.”</p> - -<p>So I lay in her arms and went to sleep.</p> - -<p>And when morning came, lad, I jumped up, and -there was the sun shining and Aksana sitting all -dressed in the hut. I remembered what had happened -the night before and thought: “It was all a -dream!”</p> - -<p>But it was not a dream; oi, no, not a dream; it -was true. I ran out of the hut into the forest. The -birds were singing and the dew was shining on the -grass. I ran into the thicket and there I saw the -Count and a huntsman lying side by side. The Count -was peaceful and pale, but the huntsman was grey, -like a dove, and stern as if he had been alive. On the -breasts of the Count and of the huntsman were -bloody stains.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>“Well, and what became of the others?” I asked, -seeing that the old man had bowed his head and was -silent.</p> - -<p>“Eh, hey! That is all there is to the story, as -Opanas the Cossack used to say. He lived long in -the forest, roaming about the highroads and over the -domains of the nobles with his lads. His fate had -been written at his birth; his fathers had been robbers -and a robber he had to be. He came here to -this hut more than once, lad, most often when Raman -was away. He would come and sit for a while and<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_85"></a>[85]</span> -sing a song and play upon his bandura. But when -he came with his comrades, Aksana and Raman would -always be here together to greet him. Okh, to tell -you the truth, lad, guilty deeds have been done here. -Maksim and Zakhar will soon come back out of the -forest—look well at them both. I say nothing to -them about it, but any one who knew Raman and -Opanas could tell at a glance which one of the boys -looks like which, although they are not the sons but -the grandsons of those men. That is what has been -done here in this forest, lad, in my memory.</p> - -<p>“And the forest is murmuring loudly to-night. -There will be rain.”</p> - - -<h3>III</h3> - -<p>The old man spoke the last words as if he were -tired. His excitement had died out, his tongue was -tripping, his head was shaking, and his eyes were full -of tears.</p> - -<p>Night had fallen; the forest was wrapped in darkness. -The wind was thundering against the but like -a rising tide. The black tree-tops were tossing like -the crests of waves in a fierce gale.</p> - -<p>Soon a merry barking announced the approach of -the dogs and their masters. Both foresters appeared -striding swiftly toward the hut, and behind -them came the panting Motria, driving in her lost -cow. Our company was now complete.</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_86"></a>[86]</span>A few minutes later we were sitting in the hut. -A cheerful fire was crackling in the stove; Motria -was preparing our supper.</p> - -<p>Although I had seen Zakhar and Maksim many -times before, I now looked at them with especial -interest. Zakhar’s face was dark. His eyebrows -grew out from under a straight, low forehead, and -his eyes were sombre, although a natural kindness -and an inherent strength could also be read in his -features. Maksim’s glance was frank and his grey -eyes were caressing; he ruffled his fair curls now -and then, and his laugh was peculiarly ringing and -merry.</p> - -<p>“And what has the old man been telling you?” -asked Maksim. “That old legend about our grandfather?”</p> - -<p>“Yes,” I answered.</p> - -<p>“There now, he always does that! When the forest -begins to murmur loudly he always remembers -the past. Now he won’t be able to sleep all night.”</p> - -<p>“He is like a little child,” added Motria, pouring -out the old man’s tea.</p> - -<p>The old man seemed not to know that they were -talking of him. He had entirely collapsed, and was -smiling vacantly from time to time and nodding his -head. Only when the storm that was blustering -through the forest shook the hut did he seem to grow -anxious; then he would lend an ear to the noise, -harkening to it with a frightened look on his face.</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_87"></a>[87]</span>Soon all grew quiet in the hut. A tallow-dip flickered -dimly and a cricket was chirping its monotonous -song. In the forest a thousand mighty but -muffled voices were talking together and calling -fiercely to one another through the night. Terrible -powers seemed to be holding a noisy conclave in the -outer darkness. From time to time the tumultuous -thunder would rise and swell and the door of the -hut would quiver as if some one were leaning against -it from the outside, hissing with rage, while the nocturnal -tempest piped a piteous, heart-breaking note -in the chimney. At moments the fury of the storm -would abate and an ominous silence would fall and -oppress the heart, until once more the thunder would -rise, as if the ancient pines had plotted to suddenly -tear themselves from their roots and fly away into -an unknown land in the arms of the blast.</p> - -<p>I lost myself for a few moments in a confused -slumber, but it could not have been for long. The -gale was howling through the forest in many tones -and keys. The tallow-dip flared and lit up the hut. -The old man was sitting on his bench feeling about -him with his arms as if he expected to find somebody -near him. A look of fear and almost of childish -helplessness distorted the face of the poor old -man.</p> - -<p>“Aksana!” I heard his piteous whisper. “Dear -Aksana, who is that groaning in the forest?”</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_88"></a>[88]</span>His hands fluttered anxiously and he seemed to be -listening for a reply.</p> - -<p>“Eh, hey,” he spoke again. “No one is groaning; -it is the noise of the storm in the forest. That is -all; it is the forest murmuring, murmuring——”</p> - -<p>A few minutes passed. Bluish flashes of lightning -stared every second or two into the little window, -and the tall, fantastic forms of the pines kept springing -out of the darkness and vanishing again into the -angry heart of the storm. Suddenly a brilliant light -dimmed the pale flame of the tallow-dip and a sharp, -near-by peal of thunder crashed over the forest.</p> - -<p>The old man again moved anxiously on his bench.</p> - -<p>“Aksana, dear Aksana, who is that shooting with -a gun?”</p> - -<p>“Go to sleep, grandfather, go to sleep,” I heard -Motria’s quiet voice answer from her place on the -stove. “It’s always like this. He always calls Aksana -if there’s a storm at night. He forgets that -Aksana has long been dead. Okh—ho!”</p> - -<p>Motria yawned, whispered a prayer, and silence -fell once more in the hut, broken only by the noise -of the forest and the old man’s anxious whispering:</p> - -<p>“The forest is murmuring, the forest is murmuring—dear -Aksana——”</p> - -<p>Soon a heavy rain began to fall, drowning with -its descending torrents the groans of the pines.</p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_89"></a>[89]</span> -<h2 class="nobreak" id="IN_BAD_COMPANY">IN BAD COMPANY</h2> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_90"></a>[90]</span></p> - - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_91"></a>[91]</span> -<p class="ph1">IN BAD COMPANY</p> -</div> - - -<h3>I</h3> - -<p class="caption">THE RUINS</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">My</span> mother died when I was six years old. After her -death my father surrendered himself entirely to his -own grief, and seemed to forget my existence. He -caressed my little sister at times, and saw to her welfare -in his own way, because he could trace her mother’s -features in her face, but I grew up like a wild -sapling of the fields; no one gave me any especial -care, though, on the other hand, no one restricted my -freedom.</p> - -<p>The little village where we lived was called Kniazh -Gorodok or Princetown. It belonged to a proud but -impoverished race of Polish noblemen, and presented -all the typical features of any small town in Southwestern -Russia, where the pitiful remnants of stately -Polish grandeur drag out their weary days in a -gently flowing current of incessant toil mingled with -the trivial bustle of Jewish “geschäft” or business.</p> - -<p>If you approached the village from the east, the -first thing that caught your eye was the prison—the -great architectural ornament of the town. The -village itself lay spread below you on the shores of<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_92"></a>[92]</span> -its slumberous ponds, and you descended to it by a -steep highway that was barred at last by the traditional -city gates. The drowsy veteran who was -toasting his red face in the sun, the very embodiment -of tranquil sleep, would lazily raise the barrier, and -behold! you were in the town, although at first you -might not perceive it. Grey fences and vacant lots -littered with piles of rubbish were interspersed here -and there among the crumbling and staring-eyed little -“khatkas” or huts. Farther on, the wide market -place appeared, bright with the roofs of the Jewish -“travellers’ rests,” while the Government buildings -gave an air of melancholy to the scene, with their -white walls and their barrack-like regularity of outline. -The wooden bridge thrown across the little -river would groan and tremble under the wheels of -your carriage, swaying like a decrepit old man. A -Jewish street led away from the bridge, lined with -warehouses, shops, miserable bazaars, and bakers’ -booths, while the Hebrew money-changers sat at their -tables on the sidewalks under their parasols. Everywhere -were dirt and swarms of children tumbling in -the dust of the street. Another minute, however, and -you were already beyond the village. Softly the -birches would be whispering over the graves in the -cemetery, while the breeze stirred the wheat fields, -and sang in mournful cadences among the roadside -telegraph wires.</p> - -<p>The little river, spanned by the above mentioned<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_93"></a>[93]</span> -bridge, flowed from one pond into another, and thus -enclosed the town at the north and south by swamps -and broad expanses of water. The ponds had grown -shallower from year to year, until at last they had -become choked by vegetation, and tall, thickly-growing -reeds now rippled like the sea upon the wide -marshes. In the centre of one of these ponds was -an island, and on the island stood an old, half-ruined -castle.</p> - -<p>I remember with what terror I used always to contemplate -this mighty, decaying pile. Stories and legends, -each one more frightful than the last, were -current about it. The island, it was said, was artificial, -piled up by the hands of captive Turks. “The -castle is built upon human bones;” so ran the saying -among the old people of the village, and my childish -imagination pictured with horror thousands of Turkish -skeletons supporting with bony hands the island, -the castle, and the tall, pyramidal poplar trees. Of -course this only made the castle appear more terrible -than ever, and even on bright days, if, emboldened -by the sunlight and the loud voices of the birds, -we approached it too closely, it would ofttimes throw -us into spasms of panic fear, so horribly did the dark -cavities of its windows glower down upon us. A -mysterious rustling would seem to stray through its -deserted halls, and pebbles and bits of plaster would -come rattling down, awakening the muffled echoes. -At such times we would scamper away without even<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_94"></a>[94]</span> -a glance behind us, seeming to hear, long after, -sounds of clattering and banging and laughter resounding -in our ears.</p> - -<p>But, on autumn nights, when the giant poplars -swayed and chanted under the wind that came flying -to them across the ponds, this horror would spread -from the island to the mainland and would reign over -the whole village. “Oi vei mir!” the Jews would whisper -with terror, while God-fearing old citizens -crossed themselves, and even our nearest neighbour, -the blacksmith, the very incarnation of diabolical -strength, would come out into his little yard and, -making the sign of the cross, would mutter under -his breath a prayer for the peace of departed souls.</p> - -<p>Old, grey-bearded Yanush, who, for lack of any -other abode, had taken refuge in a cellar of the -castle, had often told us that on such nights as these -he could clearly hear cries rising from under the -ground. It was the Turks stirring under the island, -knocking their bones together, and loudly charging -their Polish masters with cruelty. Then in the old -castle halls and on the island would resound the -clanking of arms, and the lords would call their liegemen -together with loud shouts. Yanush could hear -quite plainly, through the moaning and howling of -the storm, the stamping of horses’ hoofs, the clashing -of swords, and the words of command. He even -heard, once, the great-grandfather of the present -Count, immortalised by the memory of his ruthless<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_95"></a>[95]</span> -deeds, come trampling out on his blooded steed, and, -riding to the centre of the island, cry out with a -dreadful oath: “Silence there, you yelping heathen -dogs!”</p> - -<p>The descendants of this Count had long since abandoned -the home of their ancestors. The greater part -of the ducats and treasure with which their coffers -had once been filled to overflowing had crossed over -the bridge into the hands of the Jews, and the last -representatives of the glorious line had built themselves -a commonplace white house on a hill a little -farther from the town. Here their tedious but vainglorious -lives were spent in contemptuous and dignified -isolation.</p> - -<p>Only at rare intervals did the old Count, himself -a ruin as gloomy as the castle and the island, appear -in the little town, mounted on an old nag of -English breed. At his side through the streets rode -his daughter, majestic and thin, in a black riding-habit, -while their head groom followed respectfully -behind. The stately Countess was fated to remain -forever unwed. Any possible suitors who were her -equals in birth had faint-heartedly scattered across -the world in search of the rich daughters of merchants -in foreign lands, and had either deserted their -ancestral castles or had turned them over to be pulled -down by the Jews. As for the little town which lay -spread out at the foot of the hill, not a youth could -be found there who would dare to raise his eyes to<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_96"></a>[96]</span> -the beautiful Countess. We little boys, on catching -sight of these three riders, would pick ourselves up -out of the soft dust of the street, and, scattering -timidly like a flock of birds into various houses, would -follow the gloomy lords of the terrible castle with -eyes full of curiosity and fear.</p> - -<p>On a hill west of the town, among decaying crosses -and sunken graves, there stood a long-deserted dissenting -chapel, the offspring of a city in the valley -proper below. Hither, in days of yore, the chapel -bell had summoned the townsfolk in their clean if -plain surtouts, with staves in their hands in place of -the swords which rattled at the sides of the small -farmers, also called hither from the neighbouring -villages and farms by the clear notes of the chapel -bell.</p> - -<p>From here could be seen the island, with its great, -sombre poplars, but the castle kept itself angrily and -contemptuously hidden from the chapel behind their -dense greenery. Only when the southwest wind rose -from the reed-beds and descended upon the island -did the sighing poplars sway aside and the castle -windows gleam between them, allowing the castle -to cast dark glances at the little chapel. Both were -corpses now. The castle’s eyes were dim and no -longer reflected the rays of the setting sun; the -chapel’s roof had fallen in, and, in place of its -sonorous, high-toned copper bell, the screech owls<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_97"></a>[97]</span> -now raised their evil, midnight voices among its -rafters.</p> - -<p>But the old, historic gulf that had, in former -times, divided the proud, lordly castle from the bourgeois -dissenting chapel, continued even after their -death, kept open by the worms that had burrowed -into the crumbling corpses and had occupied the -safest corners of their vaults and cellars. The coffin-worms -infesting these lifeless buildings were men.</p> - -<p>There had been a time when the ancient castle had -served as a free refuge without restrictions of any -kind for every poor wretch that needed it. Every -one who could find no shelter in the town, every poor -creature that had fallen on evil days and had lost, for -one reason or another, the power to pay even the few -copecks needed for a roof and fire by night and in -stormy weather—all these poor wretches found their -way to the island, and there hid their vanquished -heads among the gloomy, threatening, tottering -ruins, paying for the hospitality they found there -only by the danger they ran of being buried alive -under a pile of débris. “He lives in the castle” had -come to be the expression used to denote the last -stages of beggardom and civilian degradation. The -old castle gladly received and sheltered every variety -of wandering destitution: poor writers temporarily -ruined, forlorn old women, and homeless vagabonds. -These persons tore down the interior of the rotting -building, broke up its floors and ceilings, lit their<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_98"></a>[98]</span> -stoves, cooked heaven knows what, and, in a word, -fulfilled in some way or another their functions of -life.</p> - -<p>Nevertheless, there came a day when dissension -broke out among the company roosting under the -roof of those hoary ruins. Then it was that old -Yanush, who had once been one of the Count’s smaller -“officials,” prepared a sort of gubernatorial manifesto -for himself and seized the reins of power. He -set himself to reorganise things, and for several days -such a hubbub ensued and such cries arose on the -island that it seemed at times as if the Turks had -torn themselves from their prison underground in -order to avenge themselves upon their Polish tyrants. -This Yanush sorted out the inhabitants of the ruins, -dividing the sheep from the goats. The sheep, who -remained in the castle as before, helped him to expel -the unhappy goats, who were stubborn and put up a -desperate but ineffectual resistance. When, at last, -with the silent but no less effective coöperation of -the policeman, order was once more restored on -the island it appeared that the change effected had -been distinctly aristocratic in character. Yanush -had allowed only “good Christians,” that is, Roman -Catholics, to remain in the castle, and, besides this, -most of them were either former servants or descendants -of servants of the Count’s family. They were -all either old men in long, tattered cloaks with huge -red noses, or hideous, scolding hags who still clung,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_99"></a>[99]</span> -in the last stages of destitution, to their caps and -mantles. They formed a homogeneous, closely -united, aristocratic circle that had established, as it -were, a monopoly in the trade of beggary. On week-days -these old dames and gaffers would go with prayers -on their lips from house to house of the more -prosperous townspeople, carrying gossip, complaining -of their hard lot, and pouring forth tears and -supplications; but on Sundays they would appear as -the most honoured members of those long lines that, -in Western Russia, extend from the doors of Roman -Catholic churches. There they would proudly accept -offerings in the name of the “Lord Jesus” and the -“Lady Mother of God.”</p> - -<p>Attracted by the uproar and shouts that came to -us from the island during the revolution, I betook -myself thither with a few of my companions, and, -hiding behind the thick trunks of the poplars, we -watched Yanush at the head of an army of red-nosed -dotards and unsightly shrews drive out the last inhabitants -of the castle that were liable to expulsion. -Evening fell. Drops of rain were already falling -from a cloud that was hanging over the high summits -of the poplars. A few unhappy wretches, wrapping -their impossibly tattered rags about them, still -lingered about the island, piteous, confused, and -scared, and, like toads that have been poked out of -their holes by boys, tried to crawl back unnoticed -into some cranny of the castle wall. But Yanush and<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_100"></a>[100]</span> -the beldames drove them away with curses and cries, -threatening them with sticks and pitchforks, while -the silent policeman stood by, also grasping a stout -oaken cudgel, and preserving an armed neutrality, -although he plainly favoured the conquering party. -So this unhappy riffraff disappeared grumbling over -the bridge, leaving the island forever, until one by -one they were swallowed up in the rainy darkness -of the rapidly falling night.</p> - -<p>After that memorable evening both Yanush and -the old castle, which had both, until then, impressed -me with their vague grandeur, lost all their attraction -in my eyes. Before that night I had liked to -cross over to the island and to contemplate the grey -castle walls and mossy roof, even from afar. When -the motley figures of its inmates crawled out into the -brightness of morning, yawning, coughing, and crossing -themselves in the sunlight, I had looked upon -them with a sort of reverence, as upon creatures -clothed in the same mystery that surrounded the -whole castle. “They sleep there at night,” thought -I; “they hear everything that happens when the -moon looks in at the broken windows and the wind -howls through the great halls.” I had loved to listen -to Yanush, when, with all the loquacity of seventy -years, he had taken his seat beneath a poplar tree -and told me tales of the glorious past of the dying -building. Images of this past would rise before my -childish imagination, and there would be wafted<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_101"></a>[101]</span> -into my heart a solemn melancholy and a vague -sympathy for the life lived here of old inside these -dismal walls. Romantic shades of an antiquity unknown -to me would flit across my young soul as the -light shadows of clouds flit across a bright field on -a windy day.</p> - -<p>But after that evening the castle and its bard -appeared to me in a new light. Meeting me the following -day near the island, Yanush called me to him and -assured me with satisfaction that “the son of such -honoured parents as mine” could now boldly visit the -island, as he would find an absolutely orderly population -upon it. He even led me by the hand up to -the very castle, but I snatched my hand out of his -almost in tears, and ran away as fast as my legs could -carry me; the castle had become odious to me. The -windows of the upper story had been boarded up, -while the lower floor was ruled over by the “mantles -and caps.” The old women crawled out, looking so -unattractive, fawning upon me so mawkishly, and at -the same time scolding one another so loudly that I -honestly wondered how the old Count who was wont -to discipline his Turks on stormy nights could stand -having these old crones so near him. But chiefly I -could not forget the cold ruthlessness with which the -triumphant inhabitants of the castle had driven away -their unfortunate fellow-inmates, and my heart contracted -at the remembrance of the poor creatures left -without a roof over their heads.</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_102"></a>[102]</span>However this may be, the old castle taught me -for the first time the great fact that, from the sublime -to the ridiculous is but a step. That which -was sublime in the castle was all overgrown with convolvulus -and ivy, and that which was ridiculous was -revolting to me, and wounded my childish susceptibility -too keenly for me to feel the irony of the contrast; -this was still inaccessible to me.</p> - - -<h3>II</h3> - -<p class="caption">QUEER CHARACTERS</p> - -<p>The nights following the revolution on the island -were passed by the town in great anxiety. Dogs -barked, house doors creaked, and the citizens kept -emerging into the streets, knocking on the fences with -sticks, and letting every one know how valiant they -were. The town knew that a band of shivering and -hungry folk was roaming through the streets, cold -and wet, in the raw darkness of the rainy night, and -realising full well that only harsh feelings could exist -in the hearts of these people toward it, the town -put itself on guard and answered these sentiments -with threats. And, as if on purpose, the nights now -fell upon the earth in the midst of torrents of cold -rain, and passed away leaving low-flying clouds hanging -close above the ground. And the wind bellowed<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_103"></a>[103]</span> -in the heart of the evil weather, shaking the tree-tops, -thundering against the walls, and chanting to -me in my bed of the dozens of human creatures deprived -of warmth, with no roof over their heads.</p> - -<p>But at last spring triumphed over winter’s rage; -the sun dried the wet earth, and in the meantime the -homeless wanderers had slipped away, whither, heaven -knows. The nightly barking of the dogs diminished, -the townsfolk stopped knocking on the fences, and -life assumed once more its monotonous and sleepy -aspect. The hot sun rose in the sky, scorched the -dusty streets, and drove the lively sons of Israel into -the shelter of their little booths; the “commissionaires” -lounged lazily in the sun, sharply eyeing the -passers-by and the Jewish “geschäft”; the scratching -of official pens was heard through the open -windows of the Government buildings; the town -ladies wandered up and down the bazaars in the -mornings with baskets on their arms, and in the -evenings came out walking majestically, leaning upon -the arms of their spouses, stirring up the street dust -with the full trains of their dresses. The old men -and women from the castle decorously made the -round of their patrons without disturbing the universal -harmony. The townsfolk gladly recognised -their right to existence, and considered it absolutely -proper that some people should receive alms every -Saturday, while the denizens of the castle accepted -this charity with the utmost respectability.</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_104"></a>[104]</span>Only the unfortunate exiles now found no protection -in the town. It is true they no longer roamed -the streets at night, and people said they had taken -refuge somewhere on the hill near the dissenting -chapel, but how they had managed to find a dwelling -place there no one could exactly say. All saw, however, -the most impossible and suspicious-looking figures -in the world climb down every morning from the -cliffs on which the chapel stood and disappear again -at twilight in the same direction. These people disturbed -the quiet, sleepy life of the town by their -appearance, standing out like sombre stains against -the grey background of village life. The citizens -looked at them askance with feelings of hostility and -alarm, while they, on the other hand, watched the -village with furtively attentive eyes that sent cold -chills running down the back of many a townsman. -These persons did not resemble in any way the aristocratic -mendicants from the castle; the town did not -recognise them and they did not ask for recognition. -Their relations with the community were purely war-like -in character; they preferred cursing a townsman -to flattering him; they preferred taking things themselves -to asking for them. Nevertheless, as often -happens among a sombre mass of unfortunates, there -were those among them who, for brains and talent, -would have been an honour to the more select society -of the castle, but who had been discontented there, -and preferred the more democratic life of the dissenting<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_105"></a>[105]</span> -chapel. A few of these poor creatures -were distinguished by characteristics of profoundest -tragedy.</p> - -<p>I remember vividly to this day how merrily the -street would hum as the melancholy, stooping figure -of the old “Professor” walked along it. He was a -gentle being, oppressed by a clouded intelligence, -and he wore an old frieze overcoat and a wide-brimmed -hat trimmed with a faded cockade. His -learned title he had appropriated, it seemed, because -of a vague tradition that he had once, somehow, -somewhere, been a tutor. It would be hard to imagine -a creature more mild and harmless. He could -generally be seen wandering about the streets with -dim eyes and head sunk forward on his breast. The -ingenious townsfolk knew two peculiarities of his -which they made use of to procure a cruel -enjoyment for themselves. The Professor was always -muttering something to himself and no one -could ever make out what he was saying. His words -would trickle after one another with the troubled -murmur of a little brooklet, while he fixed his vague -eyes upon his listener’s face as if he were trying to -convey to that man’s mind the elusive meaning of his -long discourses. He could be wound up like a clock, -and to do this it was only necessary for one of the -lanky commissionaires dozing on the sidewalk to -call the old man to him and ask him some question. -The Professor would shake his head, pensively fix his<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_106"></a>[106]</span> -faded eyes upon the face of his interlocutor, and -begin to murmur something sorrowful without an -end. Thereupon his questioner could calmly walk -away or go to sleep, and when he woke he would still -be certain to see over him that dark, melancholy figure, -murmuring his unintelligible phrases. But, naturally, -this situation was not, in itself, particularly -interesting. It was the second of the Professor’s -characteristics that enabled the louts of the street-corners -to procure their most striking effects. The -unhappy man could never hear sharp or pointed instruments -mentioned without emotion. And so, at -the very height of his unintelligible eloquence, his -listener would suddenly jump up and scream in a -harsh voice: “Knives, scissors, needles, pins!” Then -the poor old man, interrupted in the midst of his -reverie, would throw up his arms with the gesture of -a wounded bird, and stare about him in terror with -his hands clutching at his breast. Ah, how many -sufferings are incomprehensible to lanky commissionaires -because the sufferers cannot express their pain -by means of a lusty blow! But the poor Professor -would only look about him in deep distress, and -his inexpressible suffering could be divined from his -voice as he turned his clouded eyes upon his tormentor -and cried, convulsively tearing at his breast:</p> - -<p>“A hook—a hook in my heart!”</p> - -<p>He was probably trying to say that his heart had -been rent by the townsman’s exclamation, but naturally<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_107"></a>[107]</span> -it was his very circumstance that had served -to dispel somewhat the tedium of the street loafer. -So the poor Professor would hurry away, his head -bowed even lower than before, as if he feared a blow, -and loud peals of laughter would pursue him as the -pert townsfolk ran out into the street, filling the air -with screams like the blows of a lash and shouting:</p> - -<p>“Knives, scissors, needles, pins!”</p> - -<p>In justice to the exiles from the castle, it must be -said that they always stood loyally by one another, -and if two or three of Turkevich’s tatterdemalions, -or, more especially, if the retired grenadier Zausailov -descended upon the Professor’s pursuers at such a -time a cruel punishment always overtook a large -number of that crowd. Zausailov, who was the -possessor of a huge frame, a purplish blue nose, and -fiercely protruding eyes, had long since declared -war on every living being, and recognised neither -treaties nor neutrality. Each time that he met the -Professor with the rabble in pursuit his angry shouts -would fill the air then and long after, as he swept -through the streets like Tamerlane, destroying everything -that stood in the way of his redoubtable progress. -Thus he practised “pogroms” on the Jews on -a large scale long before they had begun to break out -elsewhere. He would torture every Jew that fell a -prisoner into his hands and wreak insults on -the Hebrew ladies until at last the expedition of the -bold grenadier would come to an end in the gaol,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_108"></a>[108]</span> -where he was invariably domiciled after his bloody -bouts with the populace in which both sides always -manifested no small amount of valour.</p> - -<p>The other individual the sight of whose misfortunes -and downfall was a source of great amusement to -the people, was Lavrovski, a retired and absolutely -drink-sodden Civil Servant. The inhabitants of the -town could easily remember the time when Lavrovski -was never spoken of as anything but “My Lord the -Secretary”; when he went about in a uniform with -brass buttons, his neck swathed in handkerchiefs of -the most marvellous hues. It is likely that this circumstance -lent an additional piquancy to the contemplation -of his present state. The change in Lavrovski’s -life had come swiftly; it had sufficed for a certain -brilliant officer of dragoons to come to Kniazh Gorodok -and live there for two weeks. In that time he -succeeded in winning and carrying off a golden-haired -lady, the rich inn-keeper’s daughter. The inhabitants -of the town never heard of the beautiful -Anna again, for she had sunk forever beneath their -horizon. And so Lavrovski was left with all his -bright-hued handkerchiefs, but without the hope that -had once embellished the life of the little official. It -was long since he had ceased to be a Civil Servant. -Somewhere, in some remote village, there lived a family -whose hope and mainstay he had once been, but -he had lost all care for anything now. In his rare -sober moments he would walk swiftly through the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_109"></a>[109]</span> -streets with downcast eyes, looking at no one, as -if he were overcome with shame at the fact of his -own existence. Ragged, dirty, with long, unkempt -hair, he was always a prominent figure in a crowd, -and attracted universal attention to himself, but -he seemed never to notice any one, or to hear anything. -Only occasionally would he cast a wild -look of bewilderment about him, as much as to say: -“What do these strangers want of me? What have I -done to them, and why do they follow me so persistently -with their mockery?” If, during one of -these flashes of consciousness, his ear caught the -name of the lady with the golden hair a tempestuous -fury would rise in his heart, his eyes would shine in his -pale face with dark fire, and he would throw himself -upon the crowd of his tormentors, which would then -quickly disperse. These flashes of anger, rare as they -were, strangely provoked the interest of the loafers -who found that time hung heavily on their hands, -and it is no wonder, then, that when Lavrovski walked -down the street with downcast eyes, the rabble that -followed him should try to rouse him from his apathy, -and at last begin to throw mud and stones at him.</p> - -<p>When Lavrovski was drunk he would obstinately -seek out dark fence-corners and swampy meadows and -other such extraordinary places, and there he would -sit, his long legs stretched out in front of him, his -poor grey head sunk on his breast. Solitude and -vodka awoke in him a flow of expansiveness and a<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_110"></a>[110]</span> -desire to pour forth the sorrow of his heavy heart, -so he would embark upon endless stories of his ruined -youth, addressing himself now to the grey posts of -the ancient fence, now to the birch trees indulgently -whispering something over his head, now to the magpies -that came hopping up to his gloomy figure with -feminine curiosity.</p> - -<p>If any of us little boys succeeded in tracking him -to such a place we would silently surround him and -listen with beating hearts to his long and terrible -stories. Our hair would stand on end as we gazed -with horror at that pale creature accusing himself -of every crime under the sun. According to -Lavrovski’s own account he had killed his father, -driven his mother into the grave, and brought disgrace -on his brothers and sisters. We had no reason -for not believing these fearful confessions, and were -only surprised that Lavrovski seemed to have had -several fathers; he had thrust a sword into the heart -of one, another he had killed with slow poison, a third -he had dragged down with him into some abyss or -other. So we would listen, overwhelmed with sympathy -and horror, until Lavrovski’s tongue became -more and more entangled and at last ceased to be -able to pronounce articulate sounds; merciful sleep -would then put an end to the outpouring of his -confessions.</p> - -<p>The grown people laughed at us and told us that -these stories were all moonshine, and that Lavrovski’s<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_111"></a>[111]</span> -parents had died a natural death from sickness or -starvation. But our tender, childish hearts heard -the cries of genuine affliction in his groans, and, taking -the allegories of the unhappy man literally, we -came nearer than our elders to understanding the -tragic wrecking of his life.</p> - -<p>When Lavrovski’s head had sunk lower than ever -and snores, broken by nervous sobs, came from his -throat, we would lean our little heads over the poor -man. We would peer into his face and watch the -shadows of his misdeeds flitting across it even in his -sleep; we would see his brows contract convulsively -and his lips tighten in a piteous, almost childishly -plaintive grimace.</p> - -<p>“I’ll kill you!” he once shrieked suddenly, conscious -of a vague uneasiness caused by our presence, -and at this we scattered like a flock of startled -birds.</p> - -<p>It sometimes happened that rain fell on him sleeping -thus, dust covered him, and several times in the -autumn he was literally buried in snow. If he did not -die an untimely death, he without doubt owed this to -the care which other unfortunates like himself took of -his pitiful person. Especially did he owe his life to -the jolly Turkevich, who would search him out, pull -him up, set him on his feet, and take him away with -him.</p> - -<p>Turkevich belonged to the class of people, who, -as he himself expressed it, do not spit in their own<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_112"></a>[112]</span> -porridge, and while the Professor and Lavrovski were -passive sufferers, he presented the appearance of a -person who was happy and fortunate in many ways. -To begin with, he had suddenly announced that he -was a general without asking the assent of any one, -and demanded that the townsfolk should call him by -that honourable title. As no one dared to question -his right to it, Turkevich very soon became imbued -with a belief in his own greatness. He always stalked -along very majestically, knitting his brows severely, -and displaying a perfect readiness to break any one’s -jaw, which last act he evidently considered the special -prerogative of a general. If his care free brain was -ever visited for a moment by doubts on the score of -his title, he would catch the first man he saw on the -street and sternly ask him:</p> - -<p>“Who am I, eh?”</p> - -<p>“General Turkevich!” the man would answer -meekly, feeling himself in an awkward position, -whereupon Turkevich would slowly release him and -proudly twirl his whiskers.</p> - -<p>“Ex-actly!”</p> - -<p>And as he had, beside all this, a very special way -of twirling his beetling moustache and an inexhaustible -fund of quaint sayings and witticisms, it was not -surprising that he was constantly surrounded by a -crowd of lively listeners. Even the doors of the best -restaurants, where the landholders of the country assembled -to play billiards, were open to him. To tell<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_113"></a>[113]</span> -the truth, however, it not infrequently happened that -General Turkevich would come flying out of them -with the alacrity of a man who is being shoved rather -unceremoniously from behind. But these incidents, -which he explained by the lack of respect the landholders -had for wit, had no effect upon Turkevich’s -general frame of mind. A state of happy self-confidence -and continual intoxication—that was his normal -condition.</p> - -<p>In this last circumstance lay the second key to his -felicity; one glass of vodka was enough to keep him -fuddled for a day. This fact people explained by the -immense quantity which Turkevich had already -drunk, and which was said to have converted his -blood into a solution of vodka. All that was necessary -now was for the General to bring this solution -to a proper strength, for it to ripple and rush -through his veins, painting the world for him with -rainbow tints.</p> - -<p>If, on the other hand, for one reason or another, -the General could not procure a glass of vodka for -a day or two, he would suffer the most excruciating -torture. First he would fall into a fit of melancholy -and low spirits. All knew that at these times the -terrible General was more helpless than a child, and -many hastened to wreak vengeance upon him then -for insults received. They would beat him and spit -upon him and cover him with mud, while he would not -even try to run away from the disgrace, but would<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_114"></a>[114]</span> -bellow at the top of his lungs while the tears streamed -in torrents down his long, drooping moustache. The -poor wretch would turn to every one, imploring them -to kill him; saying that, anyhow, he was doomed to -die a dog’s death in a fence corner. At that every -one would stand aside, for there was something in the -voice and face of the General at those times which -sent even his most determined enemies away as fast -as their legs could carry them. They could not -bear to see the face, to hear the voice of a man who, -for an instant, was conscious of the appalling tragedy -of his lot.</p> - -<p>Then another change would come over the General -and he would grow terrible to look at. His eyes -would flash feverishly, his cheeks would cave in, his -short hair would bristle on his head, he would go off -into a kind of frenzy, and, rising to his feet, would -stalk triumphantly through the streets, beating his -breast and announcing to every one in a loud voice:</p> - -<p>“I am going! Like Jeremiah, I am going to denounce -the ungodly!”</p> - -<p>This was always the signal for an interesting scene.</p> - -<p>It may safely be said that Turkevich played the -part of a famous person in our little town, so it -was small wonder that the sedatest and busiest of our -townsmen should drop their work and mingle with -the rabble at the heels of the new prophet, or that at -least they should watch his progress from afar. He -usually went first to the Secretary of the County<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_115"></a>[115]</span> -Court, and before his house he would hold something -like a session of court, choosing suitable members of -the crowd to take the parts of the plaintiff and the -defendant. He himself would make the pleas and -reply to them, mimicking very skilfully the voice and -manner of a prisoner.</p> - -<p>As he was always able to give a contemporary -flavour to his performances by alluding to some fact -well known to all, and as he was extremely well versed -in the procedures of a court room, it was not surprising -that the Secretary’s cook should come flying -out of the house in a twinkling, touch Turkevich on -the arm, and hastily disappear, repulsing as she went -the attentions of Turkevich’s followers. Turkevich -would laugh sardonically on receiving this gift, and, -waving the money triumphantly, would retire to the -nearest tavern.</p> - -<p>Having slightly slaked his thirst there, he would -continue to lead his audience from house to house of -those whom he “denounced,” varying his programme -to suit each particular case. As he always received -money for each performance, his fierce tone would -gradually become more mild, his moustache would begin -to curl once more, and the denunciatory drama -gradually became a merry vaudeville that generally -ended in front of the house where Kotz, the Captain -of Police, lived. Kotz was the most kindly of all the -city officials and had only two little weaknesses: he -dyed his grey hair black and had a partiality for fat<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_116"></a>[116]</span> -cooks. In everything else he showed an implicit -confidence in the will of God and the “gratitude” of -the townsfolk. Having arrived in front of the Police -Captain’s house, Turkevich would wink gaily at his -companions, throw up his cap, and announce in -stentorian tones that not the Police Captain lived -here, but Turkevich’s own father and benefactor.</p> - -<p>Then he would fix his eyes on the windows and await -results. The consequence was always one of two -things: either the fat, red-cheeked Matriona would -come running out of the front door with a present -from Turkevich’s “father and benefactor,” or the -door would remain closed, and Turkevich would -catch sight at a window of an angry old face in a -frame of coal-black hair, while Matriona would creep -through back ways to the police station. There the -cobbler Mikita, who made a very good living out -of these very affairs with Turkevich, was always sitting. -On seeing Matriona he would immediately -throw down his boot-last and rise from his seat.</p> - -<p>Meanwhile Turkevich, seeing that no good results -followed his dithyrambs, would, little by little, cautiously -have recourse to satire. He would usually -begin by remarking what a pity it was that his benefactor -thought it necessary to dye his honourable -grey hair with shoe blacking. Next, grieved by the -absolute lack of attention which his eloquence received, -he would raise his voice and begin to assail -his benefactor as a melancholy example of a<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_117"></a>[117]</span> -man living illegally with Matriona. By the time he -reached this delicate subject, the General had always -lost all hope of reconciliation with his “benefactor,” -and would therefore arm himself with all the genuine -eloquence of indignation. It was a pity that an unexpected -interruption almost always came at this -point in his speech. Kotz’s angry yellow face would -appear thrust out of one of the windows of his house, -and Mikita, who had crept up with marvellous dexterity, -would seize Turkevich from behind. No member -of his audience ever tried to warn the orator of -his approaching danger, for Mikita’s artistic methods -always called forth universal admiration. Cut off in -the midst of a word, the General would suddenly whirl -through the air and find himself upside down on Mikita’s -back. A few seconds more, and the sturdy cobbler -would be quietly making his way to the gaol, -bending slightly beneath his burden, and followed by -the deafening shouts of the populace. Another minute, -and the black door of the police station would -gape like a pair of forbidding jaws and the General -would disappear into the darkness, helplessly kicking -his feet. The thankless mob would cry, “Hurrah -for Mikita!” and gradually melt away.</p> - -<p>Beside these individuals who were conspicuous -among the ranks of the vagabonds, a dark crew of -pitiful, ragged creatures had taken refuge near the -chapel, and these never failed to create intense excitement -by their appearance at the bazaars. The<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_118"></a>[118]</span> -merchants would hastily seek to protect their goods -with their hands, as a hen covers her brood when a -hawk appears in the sky above her. There was a -rumour afloat that these poor wretches had formed -a fraternal organisation and that now, since they had -been deprived of their last resources by their expulsion -from the castle, they occupied themselves with -petty thieving in the town and its environs. Such -rumours were chiefly founded on the fact that a man -cannot live without bread, and as all the suspicious -persons had in some way or other abandoned the -normal way of obtaining it, and had been cut off -from the benefits of local charity, it was naturally -concluded that they must either steal or die. As they -did not die, the very fact of their remaining alive was -evidence of their guilty practices.</p> - -<p>If this was true, it was no less apparent that the -organiser and leader of the band could be no other -than Tiburtsi Drab, the most remarkable of all the -queer characters that had lost their home in the castle.</p> - -<p>Drab’s origin was shrouded in the most mystifying -uncertainty. Those who were gifted with a vivid -imagination credited him with having an aristocratic -name which he had brought to shame; he was therefore -obliged to conceal himself, at the same time taking -part, it was said, in the exploits of the notorious -Karmeliuk. But, in the first place, he was not old -enough for this, and, in the second place, Tiburtsi’s -appearance did not present one single aristocratic<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_119"></a>[119]</span> -feature. He was tall, and his heavily stooping shoulders -seemed to tell of great burdens borne by the -unfortunate man. His large features were coarsely -expressive. His short, reddish hair bristled stiffly all -over his head; his receding forehead, his slightly projecting -lower jaw, and the rapid play of his facial -muscles lent something apish to his face, but the eyes -that sparkled under his beetling brows were determined -and dark, and there shone in them, beside -cunning, a keen perspicacity, energy, and an uncommon -intelligence. While his features were changing -under the kaleidoscopic play of his expressions, his -eyes would retain their same fixed, unvarying look, -and for this reason the buffoonery of the strange man -filled me with unreasoning dread.</p> - -<p>Tiburtsi’s hands were callous and rough, and he -stamped his great feet like a peasant. Therefore -the consensus of opinion among the townsfolk was -that he was not of aristocratic birth, and the most -they would concede was that he might have been the -servant of a great family. But here another difficulty -presented itself: how, then, explain the phenomenal -learning that every one unanimously admitted -he possessed? It was impossible not to acknowledge -this obvious fact, for there was not a -tavern in the whole town where Tiburtsi had not -stood on a barrel and spouted whole speeches from -Cicero and Xenophon for the benefit of the Little -Russians collected there on market days. These<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_120"></a>[120]</span> -Little Russians would gape and nudge one another -with their elbows, while Tiburtsi, towering above -them in his rags, would thunder forth Catilinus or -paint the exploits of Cæsar and the craft of Mithridates. -Little Russians are, by nature, endowed with -a glowing fancy, and these were able to read their -own meaning into Tiburtsi’s fiery if unintelligible -speeches. When the orator beat his breast and -turned to them with flashing eyes, exclaiming: -“Patres Conscripti!” they too would knit their -brows and say to one another:</p> - -<p>“Aha, the son of a gun, he does bark!”</p> - -<p>Later, when Tiburtsi would raise his eyes to the -ceiling and begin declaiming endless verses of Latin -poetry, his whiskered audience would follow every -word he uttered with timid and pitying sympathy. -They felt as if the soul of their orator were soaring -somewhere in an unknown region where people -did not talk like Christians, and by his despairing -gestures they concluded that it was there meeting -with the most sorrowful adventures. But this sympathetic -tension reached its height whenever Tiburtsi -rolled up his eyes so that only the whites were visible -and wrung his audience’s heart with endless recitations -from Virgil and from Homer. Such hollow, -sepulchral tones would then shake his voice that -those who sat farthest away and were most under the -influence of the Jewish “gorelka”<a id="FNanchor_7" href="#Footnote_7" class="fnanchor">[G]</a> would hang their<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_121"></a>[121]</span> -heads until their long top-knots dangled before them, -and begin to sob:</p> - -<p>“Oh, oh, little mother, how sad it is!” while the -tears would flow from their eyes and trickle piteously -down their long whiskers.</p> - -<p>This learning of the queer fellow’s made it necessary -to invent a new hypothesis about him which -should tally more closely with the obvious facts. It -was at last agreed that Tiburtsi had once been -the house-boy of a count who had sent him to a -Jesuit school with his own son, desiring that he -should clean the young gentleman’s boots. It appeared, -however, that the young count had received -most of the blows of the holy fathers’ three-tailed -“disciplinarian,” while the servant had appropriated -the learning intended for the head of his master.</p> - -<p>As a result of the mystery which surrounded Tiburtsi, -he was credited among other things with having -an intimate knowledge of witchcraft. If a -“witch-ball”<a id="FNanchor_8" href="#Footnote_8" class="fnanchor">[H]</a> suddenly appeared in the billowy -fields that closed like a sea about the last hovels of -the town, no one could pull it up with less danger -to himself and to the reapers than Tiburtsi. If an -owl settled in the evening on some one’s roof and, -with loud cries, summoned death to the house, Tiburtsi -would be sent for and would drive the ill-omened -bird away by reciting quotations from Livy.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_122"></a>[122]</span>No one could even conjecture how Tiburtsi happened -to have children, and yet the fact was obvious; -there were even two facts, a boy of seven, unusually -well-grown and intelligent for his age, and a little -girl of three. Tiburtsi had led, or rather carried, -the boy with him during the early days of his appearance -over our horizon. As for the little girl, he -had seemed to vanish for several months into an absolutely -unknown place in order to procure her.</p> - -<p>The boy, whose name was Valek, was tall and thin -and dark. He might sometimes be seen sauntering -gloomily about the town with his hands in his pockets, -casting sidelong glances about him without having -anything in particular to do, and was the cause of -many a palpitating heart to the bakers.</p> - -<p>The little girl was only seen once or twice, borne -aloft in Tiburtsi’s arms. She then disappeared and -no one knew whither she had gone.</p> - -<p>People spoke of certain subterranean passages on -the hill near the dissenting chapel, and such places -were not uncommon in that part of Russia, over -which the Tartars had so often swept with fire and -sword, where Polish licence had run high, and where -the fierce heroes of the old Ukraine had held their -bloody tribunals. So every one believed in the existence -of these caves, especially as it was clear that the -band of poor unfortunates must be living somewhere. -They always disappeared toward evening in precisely -the direction of the chapel. Thither the Professor<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_123"></a>[123]</span> -hobbled with his drowsy gait; thither strode Tiburtsi, -swiftly and resolutely; thither staggered Turkevich, -leading the fierce and helpless Lavrovski; thither -went a crowd of other suspicious creatures, and vanished -into the darkness of night. There was no man -brave enough to follow them up the slippery clay -landslides that clothed the hillside. The hill, which -was honeycombed with graves, enjoyed an evil reputation. -Blue flames might be seen burning in the old -cemetery in the dusk of autumn nights, and the -screech owls hooted so shrilly and loudly in the -chapel that even the blacksmith’s fearless heart would -quail when the cries of the accursed birds came to his -ears.</p> - - -<h3>III</h3> - -<p class="caption">MY FATHER AND I</p> - -<p>“This is bad, young man, bad!” old Yanush used -often to say, meeting me in the street in Turkevich’s -train or among Tiburtsi’s audience.</p> - -<p>And as he said this the old man would wag his -grey beard.</p> - -<p>“This is bad, young man; you are in bad company. -It is a pity, a very great pity to see the -son of such honourable parents among them.”</p> - -<p>As a matter of fact, since my mother had died -and my father’s gloomy face had become even more<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_124"></a>[124]</span> -sombre than before, I was very seldom seen at home. -I used to creep into the garden like a young wolf -in the late summer evenings, carefully avoid a -meeting with my father, open my window which was -half-concealed by lilac bushes, and slip silently into -bed. If my little sister was not asleep in her cradle -in the next room I used to go in to see her, and we -would softly kiss one another and play together, -taking care not to wake our grumbling old nurse.</p> - -<p>In the morning, at break of day, while every one -else in the house was still asleep, I was already tracing -a dewy pathway through the tall grass of our -garden, jumping across the fence, and making my -way to the pond where my madcap companions would -be waiting for me with fishing rods. Or else I would -go down to the mill where the sleepy miller would -have opened the sluices a few moments before, and -where the water, its glassy surface delicately quivering, -would already be plunging down the mill-race, -going bravely on its way to its daily toil.</p> - -<p>The big mill-wheels, roused by the water’s noisy -blows, would quiver too and seem to yield unwillingly, -as if loath to forego their sleep, but next -moment they would be turning, splashing the foam -about, and bathing themselves in the cold torrent.</p> - -<p>Behind them the shafts would slowly begin to revolve; -inside the mill pinions would rattle, millstones -would whirr, and a white floury dust would rise in<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_125"></a>[125]</span> -clouds through the cracks of the venerable building.</p> - -<p>Then I would run on—I loved to meet Nature at -her awakening. I was glad when I succeeded in -rousing a sleepy lark or in startling a timid hare -from its form. The dew-drops would be dripping -from the maiden-hair and from the faces of the -meadow flowers as I crossed the fields on my way -to the woods beyond the town. The trees would greet -me with a drowsy murmur. The pale, surly faces -of the prisoners would not yet be peering from the -windows of the gaol, and only the sentry would -be walking around its walls, noisily rattling his -rifle as he relieved the tired night-watchman.</p> - -<p>Although I had made a long round, when I reached -the town again I would still meet sleepy figures -here and there, opening the shutters of the houses. -But when the sun rose over the hill, a rackety bell -would ring out across the ponds calling the school-boys -together, and hunger would drive me home to -my morning tea.</p> - -<p>Every one called me a tramp and a young good-for-nothing, -and I was on the whole so often reproached -with my many wicked tendencies, that -at last I came to be persuaded of them myself. My -father believed in them too, and sometimes made -an effort to take my education in hand, but these -attempts invariably ended in failure. The sight of -his stern, melancholy face on which lay the harsh<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_126"></a>[126]</span> -imprint of inconsolable grief frightened me and drove -me into myself. I would stand uneasily before him, -first on one foot and then on the other, glancing -about me, and plucking at my little breeches. Sometimes -I seemed to feel something rising in my breast; -I wanted him to kiss me and take me on his knee. -I should then have nestled to his breast and perhaps -we should have wept together—the stern man and -the child—at the thought of our common loss. But -he would look at me instead with dim eyes that -seemed to be staring at something over my head, -and I would shrink under that gaze, which was incomprehensible -to me.</p> - -<p>“Do you remember your mother?”</p> - -<p>Did I remember her? Ah, yes, I remembered! I -remembered how, in the night, I used to awaken and, -finding her soft arms in the darkness, would nestle -near them, covering them with kisses. I remembered -her as she had sat dying at the open window, -gazing sorrowfully at the lovely Spring landscape -before her, bidding it farewell in the last year of -her life.</p> - -<p>Ah, yes, I remembered her! As she lay beautiful, -young, and covered with flowers, but with the seal -of death upon her pale face, I had crouched in a -corner like a young wild thing, staring at her with -burning eyes before which the whole awful riddle -of life and death was being unfolded. And at last, -when a crowd of strangers had borne her away, was<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_127"></a>[127]</span> -it not my sobs that filled the house with low sounds -of weeping on the first night of my bereavement?</p> - -<p>Ah yes, I remembered her! And still, in the silence -of night, I would awaken with my childish heart -bursting with an overflowing love, a smile of happiness -on my lips, in blessed forgetfulness, wrapped -in the rosy dreams of childhood. And once more -it seemed that she was with me, and that at any -moment I might feel again her gentle, loving kiss. -But my arms would reach out into the empty darkness, -and again the consciousness of my bitter loneliness -would pierce my soul. Then I would press -my hands to my aching heart and scalding tears -would trickle down my cheeks.</p> - -<p>Ah yes, I remembered her! But at the question of -that tall, stern man with whom I wished to feel a -sense of kinship and could not, I would wince more -than ever, and quietly withdraw my little hand from -his.</p> - -<p>And he would turn away from me with anger and -pain. He felt that he had not the slightest influence -over me, that an insurmountable barrier stood between -us. He had loved her too much while she -was alive to notice me in his happiness, and now his -deep sorrow hid me from him.</p> - -<p>So little by little the gulf dividing us grew ever -wider and deeper. He became more and more convinced -that I was a wicked, worthless boy, with a -hard, selfish heart, and the feeling that he <i>should</i><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_128"></a>[128]</span> -but could not teach me; <i>should</i> love me, but could -not find a corner in his heart to harbour this love, -still more increased his dislike for me. And this I -felt. I used to watch him sometimes from where I -stood hidden behind the shrubbery. He would walk -up and down the garden paths with ever quickening -footsteps, groaning with the unbearable agony in -his heart. My heart too would ache with sympathy -and pity at the sight of him. Once, when he took -his head in his hands and sank down sobbing on a -bench, I could endure it no longer and ran out of -the shrubbery into the path, impelled by an undefinable -impulse to be near him.</p> - -<p>But he, roused from his gloomy and hopeless meditations, -looked at me sternly and checked me with -the cold question:</p> - -<p>“What do you want?”</p> - -<p>I did not want anything. I turned quickly away, -ashamed of my outburst, afraid lest my father should -read it in my blushing face. I ran into the grove in -the garden and falling on my face in the grass wept -bitterly from vexation and pain.</p> - -<p>At six years I had already experienced all the horrors -of loneliness.</p> - -<p>My sister Sonia was four. I loved her passionately -and she returned my love, but the general, fixed -opinion that I was an out-and-out little rascal at -last succeeded in raising a high barrier between us. -Whenever I began to play with her in my noisy,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_129"></a>[129]</span> -frolicsome way, our old nurse, always sleepy and -always picking over hen feathers for pillows with -closed eyes, would wake up in an instant, swiftly -seize my Sonia, and carry her away, throwing an -angry glance at me. At such times she always reminded -me of a ruffled brood-hen, while I likened -myself to a marauding hawk, and Sonia to a little -chicken. I would be hurt and vexed. It was no -wonder, then, that I soon abandoned all attempts -to amuse Sonia with my objectionable games, and -in a little while both our house and the little garden -began to grow irksome to me, for I found there -neither welcome nor kindness. I began to roam. My -whole being was quivering with strange presentiments; -a foretaste, as it were, of life. It seemed to -me that I should surely find something somewhere -out there, in that great, unknown world beyond the -old walled garden; I felt as if I should and would -do something, only I knew not what, and from the -bottom of my soul a feeling that tempted me and -teased me rose up to meet this mystery. I was constantly -awaiting the solution of these riddles, and -instinctively fled from our nurse and her feathers, -from the familiar, lazy whispering of the apple trees -in our little garden, and from the silly knife-blows -that resounded whenever meat was being chopped -in our kitchen. From then on the epithets of “street -urchin” and “tramp” were added to my other unflattering -appellations. But I paid no heed to this;<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_130"></a>[130]</span> -I had grown accustomed to reproaches, and endured -them as I endured sudden downpours of rain -and the fierce heat of the sun. I listened scowling to -all rebukes and went my own way. Wandering -through the streets, I watched the life of the town -with childishly inquiring eyes; I listened to the -rumbling of the wagons on the highway and tried -to catch the echoes of great far-away cities, either -in the clatter of their wheels or in the whispering -of the wind among the tall Cossack tombs by the -roadside. More than once did my eyes open wide -with fear, more than once did my heart stop beating -at the panorama of life unfolding before me, -picture after picture, impression after impression, -each leaving a vivid imprint on my heart. I saw -and knew a great deal that children much older than -myself ordinarily never see, and all the while that unexplained -something which had risen from the depths -of my childish soul called to me as before, ceaseless, -mysterious, vibrant.</p> - -<p>After the shrews of the castle had deprived the old -building of my respect and admiration, and when -every corner of the town had become familiar to -me down to the last filthy alley, then I began to turn -my eyes into the distance, toward the hill on which -the dissenting chapel stood. At first I approached -it from one side and then from another like a timid -animal, not daring to climb a hill that had such an -evil reputation. But as I gradually grew more familiar<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_131"></a>[131]</span> -with the place, I began to see before me only -peaceful graves and fallen crosses. Nowhere were -there any visible signs of life or of the presence of -human beings. It lay quiet, deserted and alone. -Only the chapel frowned at me with its empty windows, -as if absorbed in melancholy meditation. I -longed to inspect the building from every point of -view, to look inside it, and so to make sure that -there was nothing in it but dust. But it was both -terrifying and inconvenient to undertake such an -expedition alone, and so I enlisted a small army of -three scape-graces, urchins who were attracted to -the adventure by the promise of cakes and of apples -from our garden.</p> - - -<h3>IV</h3> - -<p class="caption">I MAKE SOME NEW ACQUAINTANCES</p> - -<p>We started on our expedition one day after dinner, -and, having reached the hill, began climbing -the clay landslides that had been torn from its side -by grave diggers long dead and by the freshets of -Spring. These landslides had stripped the hillside -bare, and here and there white, crumbling bones -protruded through the clay. In one place the -rotting corner of a coffin jutted out; in another a -human skull grinned at us, fixing us with its dark, -hollow eyes.</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_132"></a>[132]</span>At last, lending one another a hand, we scrambled -up over the last cliff and found ourselves on the -summit of the hill. The sun was already nearing -the horizon. Its slanting rays were tenderly gilding -the sward of the old cemetery, playing across -its ancient, zig-zag crosses, and streaming through -the windows of the chapel. The air was still, and -about us reigned the deep peace of a deserted -burial ground. Here we no longer saw skulls and -shank-bones and coffins. A soft, gently sloping -carpet of fresh green grass had lovingly concealed -in its embrace the horror and ugliness of death.</p> - -<p>We were alone. Only the sparrows were bustling -merrily about us, and a few swallows were silently -flying in and out of the windows of the chapel standing -disconsolately among its grassy graves, modest -crosses, and the tumble-down stone sepulchres on -the débris of which gleamed the bright faces of -butter-cups, violets, and clover blossoms.</p> - -<p>“No one is here,” said one of my companions.</p> - -<p>“The sun is setting,” added another, looking at -the sun, which, although it had not yet set, was -hanging low above the hill.</p> - -<p>The doors and windows were boarded up for some -distance above the ground, but, with the help of my -companions, I had hopes of scaling them and peeping -into the chapel.</p> - -<p>“Don’t!” cried one of my band, suddenly losing -his courage and seizing my arm.</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_133"></a>[133]</span>“Get away, you old woman!” the oldest of our little -army shouted at him, deftly offering me his back.</p> - -<p>I jumped bravely upon it; he stood up, and I -found myself with my feet on his shoulders. In this -position I could easily reach the window-sill with my -hand. I made sure of its strength, and then pulled -myself up and sat on it.</p> - -<p>“Well, what do you see?” the boys asked from -below, with lively curiosity.</p> - -<p>I was silent. By peering over the sill I could -see down into the interior of the chapel, from whence -there rose to meet me all the solemn quiet of an -abandoned place of worship. The interior of the -tall, narrow building was innocent of paint. The -evening sunlight was streaming unobstructed through -the open windows, staining the peeling walls a brilliant -gold. I saw the inside of the closed door, -the crumbling gallery, the ancient tottering columns. -The distance from the window to the floor appeared -much greater than from the window to the grass outside. -I seemed to be looking down into a deep abyss, -and at first I could not make out what certain -strange objects were whose fantastic forms were -resting upon the floor.</p> - -<p>Meanwhile my friends were growing weary of -standing below waiting for me to give them news, -and one of them climbed up by the same method -that I had employed, and took his seat beside me, -holding on to the window frame.</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_134"></a>[134]</span>“That’s the altar,” he said, looking down at one -of the strange objects on the floor.</p> - -<p>“And that’s the lustre.”</p> - -<p>“And that’s the little table for the Bible.”</p> - -<p>“Yes, but what’s that?” I asked, pointing to the -dark shape that lay beside the altar.</p> - -<p>“That’s a priest’s hat.”</p> - -<p>“No, it’s a bucket.”</p> - -<p>“What would they have used a bucket for?”</p> - -<p>“To carry coals for the incense.”</p> - -<p>“No, it certainly is a hat. Anyhow, we can find -out!” I cried. “Here, let’s tie your belt to the window-sill, -and you can let yourself down by it!”</p> - -<p>“I like that! Let yourself down if you want to!”</p> - -<p>“Do you think I wouldn’t go?”</p> - -<p>“Go on then!”</p> - -<p>Acting on impulse I tied the two belts together, -slipped them under the window-sill, and, giving one -end to my companion, let myself down by the other. -I trembled as my feet touched the floor, but a glance -at my friend’s face bending sympathetically over me -reassured me. The sound of my heels rang out under -the ceiling, resounding in the chapel’s void, and -echoing among its dark corners. A few sparrows -started up from their roosts in the gallery and fluttered -out through a large hole in the roof. All at -once I caught sight of a stern, bearded face under a -crown of thorns looking down at me from over the -window in which we had been sitting. It was an<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_135"></a>[135]</span> -immense crucifix leaning out from high up under -the rafters.</p> - -<p>I was seized with dread. My companion’s eyes -sparkled, and he held his breath with curiosity and -sympathy.</p> - -<p>“Are you going any farther?” he asked in a low -voice.</p> - -<p>“Yes,” I answered in the same tone, summoning -all my courage, but at that instant something totally -unexpected happened. First, we heard the rattle -of plaster falling in the gallery. Then something -moved overhead, stirring up clouds of dust, and a big -grey mass flapped its wings and rose to the hole in -the roof. The chapel was darkened in a moment. -A huge old owl, frightened out of a dark corner by -our noise, hung poised for a moment in the aperture -with outstretched wings, and then sailed away.</p> - -<p>A wave of shuddering fear passed over me.</p> - -<p>“Pull me up!” I cried to my playmate, and seized -the strap.</p> - -<p>“Don’t be frightened!” he answered soothingly and -prepared to pull me up into the sunshine and the -light of day.</p> - -<p>But all at once I saw his face become distorted -with alarm. He screamed, jumped down from the -window-sill, and vanished in an instant. I instinctively -looked behind me, and caught sight of a -strange apparition which filled me, however, more -with surprise than terror.</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_136"></a>[136]</span>The dark object that had been the subject of our -dispute, and that had first looked like a bucket, then -like a hat, and then at last like a kettle, suddenly -flashed across my vision and vanished behind the -altar. All I could distinguish was the dim outline -of a small, what seemed to be a child’s, hand, beckoning -the object into its hiding place.</p> - -<p>It would be hard to describe my sensations at that -moment. They were not painful, the feeling that -overcame me could not even be called fear. I seemed -to be in another world. From somewhere, as if -from the world that I had left, there came to me, -a few seconds later, the swift frightened pattering of -three pairs of children’s feet. This sound soon died -away, and I was left alone in that tomb-like place, -in the presence of an apparition inexplicable and -strange.</p> - -<p>Time ceased to exist for me, therefore I cannot -say whether it was soon or not before I was aware -of suppressed whispering under the altar.</p> - -<p>“Why doesn’t he climb up again?”</p> - -<p>“You can see, he’s frightened.”</p> - -<p>The first voice seemed to be that of a very little -child, the second might have belonged to a boy of -my own age. I seemed to see, too, a pair of black -eyes shining through the chinks in the old altar.</p> - -<p>“What’s he going to do now?” the whisper recommenced.</p> - -<p>“Wait and see,” answered the older voice.</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_137"></a>[137]</span>Something moved so violently under the altar that -the structure trembled, and a little figure emerged -from underneath it.</p> - -<p>It was a boy of nine, taller than I was, thin and -slight as a reed. He was dressed in a dirty shirt, -and his hands were thrust into the pockets of a pair -of short, tight breeches. His black hair hung in -shaggy elf-locks over his dark, pensive eyes.</p> - -<p>Although he was a stranger and had appeared on -the scene in such an unusual and unexpected manner, -and although he was approaching me with that -infinitely provocative look with which boys always -met each other among our bazaars when they were -preparing for a fight, I nevertheless felt very much -braver than I had before. My courage increased -when there appeared from under the altar, or rather -from a trap-door in the floor which was concealed by -the altar, another grimy little face framed in golden -curls, and a pair of bright blue eyes fixed on me -full of childish curiosity.</p> - -<p>I moved slightly away from the wall and also put -my hands into my pockets according to the rules of -our bazaars. This was a sign that I was not afraid -of my adversary and even partly wished to hint at -my contempt for him.</p> - -<p>We stood face to face, measuring each other with -our eyes. Having stared at me from head to foot, -the boy asked:</p> - -<p>“What are you doing here?”</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_138"></a>[138]</span>“Nothing,” I answered. “What business is it of -yours?”</p> - -<p>My adversary jerked his shoulder as if he intended -to take his hand out of his pocket and strike -me. I did not blink.</p> - -<p>“I’ll show you!” he threatened.</p> - -<p>I stuck out my chest.</p> - -<p>“Hit me! Try!”</p> - -<p>The moment was crucial. On it depended the -character of our future relationship. I waited, but -my opponent continued to fix me with the same -scrutinising gaze and did not move.</p> - -<p>“I’ll hit—too——” I said, but more peaceably -this time.</p> - -<p>Meanwhile the little girl, with her tiny hands resting -on the floor of the chapel, was trying to scramble -up out of the trap-door. She fell down, got up -again, and at last came tottering with uncertain -steps toward the boy. Having reached him, she -seized him and nestled closely to him, at the same -time fixing eyes of wonder and fear upon my face.</p> - -<p>This decided the affair. It was obvious that the -boy could not fight under conditions such as these. -Of course I was too generous to take advantage of -the awkward situation he was in.</p> - -<p>“What’s your name?” asked the boy, stroking -the little girl’s fair curls.</p> - -<p>“Vasia. What’s yours?”</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_139"></a>[139]</span>“Mine’s Valek. I know you. You live in the -garden near the pond. You have big apples.”</p> - -<p>“Yes, our apples are fine. Don’t you want some?”</p> - -<p>Taking out of my pocket two apples that had -been intended as payment for my shamefully fugitive -band, I gave one to Valek and held out the other -to the little girl. But she only hid her face and -pressed closer to Valek.</p> - -<p>“She’s frightened,” he said, and handed the apple -to the child himself.</p> - -<p>“What did you come down here for?” he asked -next. “Did I ever come into <i>your</i> garden?”</p> - -<p>“You can come if you want to. I wish you would!” -I answered joyfully.</p> - -<p>Valek was taken back.</p> - -<p>“I can’t play with you,” he answered sadly.</p> - -<p>“Why not?” I asked, deeply grieved by the sorrowful -voice in which he had spoken these words.</p> - -<p>“Your father is a judge.”</p> - -<p>“Well, what if he is?” I asked with candid amazement. -“You’d play with me, not with my father!”</p> - -<p>Valek shook his head.</p> - -<p>“Tiburtsi wouldn’t let me.” And as if the name -had reminded him of something, he suddenly recollected -himself and went on: “Look here, you’re a fine -boy, but you’d better go. If Tiburtsi should find -you here it would be awful.”</p> - -<p>I agreed that it was time for me to go. The last -rays of the setting sun were already fading behind<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_140"></a>[140]</span> -the windows of the chapel, and the town was some -distance away.</p> - -<p>“How can I get out of here?”</p> - -<p>“I’ll show you. We’ll go out together.”</p> - -<p>“And what about her?” I asked, pointing to the -little girl.</p> - -<p>“What, Marusia? She’ll come with us.”</p> - -<p>“How? Through the window?”</p> - -<p>Valek reflected a moment.</p> - -<p>“I’ll tell you what; I’ll help you to climb through -the window and we’ll go out another way.”</p> - -<p>With the help of my new friend I climbed up to -the window-sill. Untying the belt, I slipped it -around the sill, seized both ends, and swung myself -into the air. Then, releasing one end, I dropped -to the ground and jerked down the belt. Valek and -Marusia were already waiting for me outside, at -the foot of the wall.</p> - -<p>The sun had just set behind the hill. The town -was sunk in purple mist, only the tall poplars on -the island, stained by the last glow of the sunset, -stood out sharply defined in pure gold. I felt as if -I had been in the old cemetery for a day and a night; -it was as if I had come there the day before.</p> - -<p>“It’s lovely here!” I exclaimed, struck by the freshness -of the evening and filling my lungs with the -cool, damp air.</p> - -<p>“It’s lonely here,” said Valek sadly.</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_141"></a>[141]</span>“Do you live here?” I asked, as the three of us -began to descend the hill.</p> - -<p>“Yes.”</p> - -<p>“Where’s your house?”</p> - -<p>I couldn’t imagine that children like myself could -live without a house.</p> - -<p>Valek smiled in his habitual sad way and did not -answer.</p> - -<p>We avoided the steep landslides, for Valek knew a -better path. Pushing through the reeds of a dry -marsh and crossing a couple of little streams on -narrow planks, we found ourselves on a flat at -the foot of the hill.</p> - -<p>Here we were forced to take leave of one another. -I pressed my new friend’s hand and then -held out mine to the little girl. She gave me her -tiny paw affectionately and, looking up at me with -her blue eyes, asked:</p> - -<p>“Will you come again?”</p> - -<p>“Oh, yes,” I answered. “I’ll surely come!”</p> - -<p>“All right,” said Valek thoughtfully. “You might -as well come, but only when our people are in town.”</p> - -<p>“Who are your people?”</p> - -<p>“Why our people: all of them, Tiburtsi and Lavrovski -and Turkevich and the Professor—but perhaps -he wouldn’t matter.”</p> - -<p>“All right, I’ll watch for them, and when they’re -in town, I’ll come. Good-bye!”</p> - -<p>“Hi! Listen!” Valek called after me when I had<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_142"></a>[142]</span> -gone a few steps. “You won’t tell any one you’ve -been here with us, will you?”</p> - -<p>“No, not a soul!” I answered firmly.</p> - -<p>“That’s good. And when those idiots of yours ask -you what you saw say the Devil.”</p> - -<p>“All right. I’ll say that.”</p> - -<p>“Good-bye, then!”</p> - -<p>“Good-bye!”</p> - -<p>The thick shades of night were descending on -Kniazh Gorodok as I approached our garden wall. -A slender crescent moon was hanging over the castle -and the sky was bright with stars. I was about to -climb the wall when some one seized my arm.</p> - -<p>“Vasia!” my runaway friend burst out in an excited -whisper. “Is that you?”</p> - -<p>“You know it is. And so you all ran away!”</p> - -<p>He hung his head, but curiosity got the better of -his confusion and he asked again:</p> - -<p>“What did you see there?”</p> - -<p>“What do you think I saw?” I answered in a -voice that would not admit of a doubt; “devils, of -course. And you are all cowards!”</p> - -<p>Pushing my abashed companion aside, I climbed -over the wall.</p> - -<p>Fifteen minutes later I had sunk into a profound -slumber, and was dreaming that I was watching real -little devils merrily hopping up out of the hole in -the chapel floor. Valek was chasing them about<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_143"></a>[143]</span> -with a birch twig, and Marusia, her eyes sparkling -with pleasure, was laughing and clapping her hands.</p> - - -<h3>V</h3> - -<p class="caption">MY ACQUAINTANCESHIP IS CONTINUED</p> - -<p>From thenceforth I became entirely absorbed in -my new acquaintances. At night as I went to bed -and on rising in the morning I thought of nothing -but my coming visit to the hill. I now wandered -about the streets for the sole purpose of ascertaining -whether the whole assemblage of what Yanush -called the “bad company” was there or not. If -Lavrovski was sprawling in the meadow and Turkevich -and Tiburtsi were holding forth to their audiences, -and if the rest of the suspicious characters -were poking about the bazaar, I immediately ran -off across the marsh and up the hill to the chapel, -having first filled my pockets with apples, which I -was allowed to pick in our garden, and with sweet-meats, -which I always saved up for my new friends.</p> - -<p>Valek, who was very serious, and whose grown-up -ways inspired me with respect, would quietly accept -these gifts and generally put them aside for his -sister, but Marusia would clap her hands and her -eyes would sparkle with unaffected pleasure. The -child’s pale cheeks would glow with rosy colour and<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_144"></a>[144]</span> -she would laugh, and this laugh of our little friend’s -always went straight to our hearts and rewarded us -for the sweets we had sacrificed for her sake.</p> - -<p>This pale, diminutive little creature reminded one -of a flower that had blossomed without seeing the -life-giving rays of the sun. Although she was four -years old, she still walked weakly on her crooked -little legs, swaying like a grass-blade as she moved. -Her hands were transparent and thin, and her head -nodded on her neck like a bluebell on its stalk, but -her glance was, at times, so unchildlike and sad, and -her smile reminded me so of my mother’s during -her last days as she had sat at her open window -with the breeze stirring her hair, that I would often -grow sad myself at the sight of her little babyish -face, and the tears would rise in my eyes.</p> - -<p>I could not help comparing her to my sister who -was the same age; the latter was as round as a -dumpling and as buoyant as a rubber ball. Sonia -ran so merrily when she was playing and laughed -so ringingly, she wore such pretty dresses, and every -day her nurse would braid a crimson ribbon into -her dark hair.</p> - -<p>But my little friend hardly ever ran and very -seldom laughed; when she did her laughter sounded -like the tiniest of silver bells that ten steps away is -scarcely audible. Her dress was dirty and old, no -ribbon decked her hair, which was much longer and -thicker than Sonia’s. To my surprise, Valek knew<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_145"></a>[145]</span> -how to braid it very cleverly, and this he would do -every morning.</p> - -<p>I was a great madcap. People used to say of me: -“That boy’s hands and feet are full of quicksilver.” -I believed this myself, although I could not understand -how and by whom the quicksilver could have -been inserted. During the first days of our friendship -I brought my high spirits into the company of -my new companions, and I doubt if the echoes of the -old chapel had ever repeated such deafening shrieks -as they did whilst I was trying to rouse and amuse -Valek and Marusia with my pranks. But in spite -of them all I did not succeed. Valek would gaze seriously -first at me and then at the little girl, and -once when I was making her run a race with me, -he said:</p> - -<p>“Don’t do that, you’ll make her cry.”</p> - -<p>And in fact, when I had teased Marusia into running, -and when she heard my steps behind her, she -suddenly turned round, raised her arms above her -head as if to protect herself, looked at me with the -helpless eyes of a trapped bird, and burst into tears. -I was touched to the quick.</p> - -<p>“There, you see,” said Valek. “She doesn’t like -to play.”</p> - -<p>He seated her on the grass and began picking flowers -and tossing them to her. She stopped crying and -began quietly to pick up the blossoms, whispering -something to the golden butter-cups and raising the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_146"></a>[146]</span> -blue-bells to her lips. I grew quiet too, and lay -down beside Valek and the little girl.</p> - -<p>“Why is she like that?” I finally asked, motioning -with my eyes toward Marusia.</p> - -<p>“Why is she so quiet, you mean?” asked Valek. -And then in a tone of absolute conviction, he continued: -“You see, it is the grey stone.”</p> - -<p>“Yes,” the child repeated like a feeble echo. “It -is the grey stone.”</p> - -<p>“Which grey stone?” I asked, not understanding -what they meant.</p> - -<p>“The grey stone has sucked her life away,” Valek -explained, gazing at the sky as before. “Tiburtsi -says so. Tiburtsi knows.”</p> - -<p>“Yes,” the child once more echoed softly. “Tiburtsi -knows everything.”</p> - -<p>I understood nothing of the puzzling words which -Valek had repeated after Tiburtsi, but the argument -that Tiburtsi knew everything had its effect on me. -I raised myself on one elbow and looked at Marusia. -She was sitting in the same position in which Valek -had placed her, and was still picking up the scattered -flowers. The movements of her thin hands -were slow, her eyes were like blue bruises in her -pale face, and her long lashes were downcast. As I -looked at that wee, pathetic figure I realised that in -Tiburtsi’s words, although I could not understand -them, there lay a bitter truth. Something was surely -sucking away the life of this strange child that wept<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_147"></a>[147]</span> -when other children would have laughed. But how -could a grey stone do this thing?</p> - -<p>There was a riddle more dreadful to me than all -the ghosts in the old castle. Let the Turks pining -under ground be never so terrible and the old -count never so cruel, they all smacked of the fantastic -horror of ancient legends. But here was something -incredibly dreadful taking place under my very -eyes. Something formless, pitiless, cruel, and heavy -as a stone was hanging over this little being’s head, -draining the colour from her cheeks, the brightness -from her eyes, and the life out of her limbs. “It -must be done at night,” I thought, and something -wrung my heart until it ached.</p> - -<p>I, too, subdued my boisterous ways under the influence -of this feeling. Suiting our actions to our -little lady’s quiet gravity, Valek and I would put -her down somewhere upon the grass and collect flowers -and little bright-hued pebbles for her, or else we -would catch butterflies, or make her sparrow traps -of bricks. Sometimes, stretched beside her on the -grass, we would lie gazing at the sky and, as we -watched the clouds sailing high above the chapel’s -crumbling roof, we would tell Marusia stories or -talk with one another.</p> - -<p>These conversations cemented the friendship between -Valek and me more firmly every day, and it -grew steadily in spite of the sharp contrast that -our characters presented. He opposed a sorrowful<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_148"></a>[148]</span> -gravity to my impulsive high spirits and won -my respect by the masterly, independent way in -which he spoke of grown-up people. He also told -me much that was new to me, things of which I had -never thought before. Noticing that he spoke of -Tiburtsi as of a comrade I asked:</p> - -<p>“Is Tiburtsi your father?”</p> - -<p>“He must be,” he answered thoughtfully, as if the -question had never before occurred to him.</p> - -<p>“Does he love you?”</p> - -<p>“Yes,” he answered much more decidedly this time. -“He is always doing things for me, and sometimes, -you know, he kisses me and cries.”</p> - -<p>“He loves me and cries too!” Marusia chimed in, -with a look of childish pride.</p> - -<p>“My father doesn’t love me,” I said sadly. “He -never kisses me. He is a horrid man.”</p> - -<p>“No, no,” Valek objected. “You don’t understand. -Tiburtsi says he isn’t. He says the Judge is -the best man in the town, and that the town would -have been ruined long ago if it had not been for -your father and the Priest who has just gone into -a monastery, and the Jewish Rabbi. Those three—”</p> - -<p>“What have those three done?”</p> - -<p>“The town hasn’t been ruined because they were -there, so Tiburtsi says, because they look after the -poor people. Your father, you know, once sentenced -a count to punishment.”</p> - -<p>“Yes, that’s so. The count was very angry.”</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_149"></a>[149]</span>“There, you see! It’s no joke to sentence a -count.”</p> - -<p>“Why?”</p> - -<p>“Why?” Valek repeated. “Because a count isn’t -an ordinary person. A count does what he pleases -and drives in a coach, and then <i>that</i> count had -money. He would have given money to any other -judge, and the judge would have let him go and -condemned a poor man.”</p> - -<p>“Yes, that’s true. I heard the count shouting in -our house: ‘I can buy and sell every one of you!’”</p> - -<p>“And what did the Judge say?”</p> - -<p>“My father said: ‘Get out of my sight!’”</p> - -<p>“There, now, you see! And Tiburtsi says he isn’t -afraid to drive a rich man away, but when old -Ivanovna came to him with her rheumatism he had -a chair brought for her. He’s like that! Even -Turkevich has never raised a rumpus under his -windows.”</p> - -<p>That was true; when he was on his denunciatory -expeditions Turkevich always passed by our windows -in silence, and sometimes even took off his cap.</p> - -<p>All this set me thinking deeply. Valek was showing -me my father in a light in which I had never -before seen him, and the boy’s words touched -chords of filial pride in my heart. I was pleased -to hear these praises of my father coming from Tiburtsi -who “knew everything,” but there still quivered -in my breast, with a pang of aching love, the bitter<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_150"></a>[150]</span> -certainty that this man never could and never -would love me as Tiburtsi loved his children.</p> - - -<h3>VI</h3> - -<p class="caption">AMONG THE “GREY STONES”</p> - -<p>Several days passed. The “bad company” ceased -to appear in town, and I wandered through the streets -in vain, feeling sad and lonely, waiting for them to -return so that I might hasten to the hill.</p> - -<p>Only the Professor came down once with his sleepy -walk; neither Tiburtsi nor Turkevich appeared. I -was thoroughly unhappy, for not to see Valek and -Marusia had come to be a great loss to me. But -one day as I was walking down the street with -hanging head Valek suddenly laid his hand upon my -shoulder.</p> - -<p>“Why don’t you come to see us any more?” he -asked.</p> - -<p>“I’m afraid to—I haven’t seen your people in -town.”</p> - -<p>“O—oh—and I never thought of telling you! Our -people aren’t at home; you can come. And I thought -it was something else!”</p> - -<p>“What?”</p> - -<p>“I thought you were tired of coming.”</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_151"></a>[151]</span>“No, no! I’m coming at once; I even have the -apples here with me.”</p> - -<p>At mention of the apples Valek suddenly turned -toward me as if he wanted to say something, -but nothing came, and he only gave me an odd -look.</p> - -<p>“No matter, no matter,” he dismissed the question, -seeing that I was looking expectantly at him. -“Go along up the hill; I have something to do; I’ll -catch you up on the way.”</p> - -<p>I walked along, glancing back frequently, expecting -to be overtaken by Valek, but I had climbed the -hill and reached the chapel before he had appeared. -I stopped in doubt as to what I ought to do. Before -me lay the graveyard, desolate and hushed, -without the faintest sign of human habitation. Only -sparrows were twittering in the sunshine, and a -thicket of wild cherry trees, honeysuckle, and lilac -bushes that nestled close up under the southern wall -of the chapel was softly whispering something with -its dark, dense foliage.</p> - -<p>I looked about. Where should I go next? Clearly, -the only thing to do was to wait for Valek. So I -began to wander among the graves, idly trying to -decipher the epitaphs on the mossy tombstones. As -I was roaming thus from grave to grave, I suddenly -stumbled upon a large, half-ruined vault. The -roof of this vault had been taken off or else had been -torn away by storms, and was lying close at hand.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_152"></a>[152]</span> -The door was boarded up. Out of curiosity I -propped an old cross against the wall, climbed up, -and peered into the vault. It was empty, but a -window with glass panes had been let into the centre -of the floor, and under these panes there gaped the -black void of a subterranean chamber.</p> - -<p>While I was looking into this tomb and marvelling -at the strange situation of the window, Valek came -running, panting and tired, to the top of the hill. He -was carrying a large loaf of Jewish bread in his -arms, something was sticking out from under his -coat, and the perspiration was streaming down his -face.</p> - -<p>“Oh!” he cried at sight of me. “There you are! -If Tiburtsi should find you here, how angry he would -be! But it’s too late to do anything now. I know -you’re all right and won’t tell any one where we -live. Let’s go in!”</p> - -<p>“Go in where? Is it far?”</p> - -<p>“You’ll see. Follow me.”</p> - -<p>He pushed aside the twigs of the honeysuckle and -lilac bushes and disappeared into the thicket beneath -the chapel wall. I followed him, and found myself -on a small trampled patch of earth which had been -entirely concealed from me before by foliage. Between -the stems of the cherry trees I saw a fairly -large opening from which a flight of earthen steps -led downward. Valek started down, bidding me follow -him, and in a few seconds we found ourselves in<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_153"></a>[153]</span> -darkness underground. Valek took my hand and -led me through a narrow, damp passage, until, turning -sharply to the right, we emerged into a spacious -crypt.</p> - -<p>I stopped at the entrance, amazed at this unexpected -sight. Two beams of light fell sharply from -overhead, painting two luminous bands across the -darkness of the crypt. This light came from a -couple of windows, one of which I had seen in the -floor of the vault, and another, which lay beyond and -which had evidently been constructed in the same -way as the first. The rays of the sun did not fall -directly upon these windows, but were reflected into -them from the walls of the two old vaults. This light -was diffused in the grey air underground, and fell -upon the flag-stone floor, from which it was reflected -once more, filling the crypt with a dusky shimmer. -The walls were also of stone, and massive, thick columns, -rising ponderously from the floor, spread their -stone arches in all directions and at last firmly -clasped the vaulted roof above.</p> - -<p>Two figures were sitting in a patch of light on the -floor. The old Professor, with bowed head and -muttering something to himself, was cobbling his -rags together with a needle. He did not even look -up as we entered the crypt, and had it not been for -the slight movement of his hands, his grey figure -might easily have been mistaken for some grotesque -piece of stone carving.</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_154"></a>[154]</span>Under the other window sat Marusia by a little -heap of flowers, sorting them over, as her custom -was. A beam of light fell on her fair curls, bathing -her in radiance from head to foot, but in spite -of this she stood out a strange little misty speck -against the grey stone background, looking as if -she might melt and vanish at any moment. Whenever -a cloud passed over the earth, dimming the -sun’s brightness, this background seemed to slip -away and disappear, swallowed up in darkness, but -when the sun shone out anew, the cold, cruel stones -stood out once more, clasping each other above the -tiny figure of the child in an indissoluble embrace. -I involuntarily remembered Valek’s saying about the -“grey stone” that was draining Marusia’s merriment -away, and a feeling of superstitious fear came -stealing into my heart. I seemed to be aware of -an invisible but terrible stony stare directed at her, -rapacious and intent; I felt that the crypt was keenly -eyeing its prey.</p> - -<p>“Valek!” lisped Marusia gaily, as she caught sight -of her brother. When she saw me with him a faint -light shone in her eyes.</p> - -<p>I gave her the apples I had brought, and Valek, -breaking the loaf in two, gave her a piece and handed -the rest to the Professor. That unhappy man of -learning accepted the gift indifferently, and began -munching without tearing himself away from his -occupation. I shivered and moved uneasily, stifled,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_155"></a>[155]</span> -as it were, by the oppressive “stare” of those grey -stones.</p> - -<p>“Come! Come away from here——” I insisted, -plucking at Valek’s sleeve. “Take her away!”</p> - -<p>“Come, Marusia, let’s go upstairs,” Valek called -to his sister.</p> - -<p>And the three of us climbed up out of the crypt, -but even out of doors I felt a sense of restlessness -and strain. Valek was sadder and more silent than -usual.</p> - -<p>“Did you stay in town to buy that bread?” I asked.</p> - -<p>“To buy it?” laughed Valek. “Where would I find -the money?”</p> - -<p>“How did you get it then? Did you ask for it?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, that’s likely! Who would give it to me? -No, brother, I nabbed it from Sarah the Jewess’ -bread-tray at the bazaar. She didn’t see me.”</p> - -<p>He said this in a matter-of-fact voice, sprawling -on the grass with his hands under his head. I raised -myself on my elbow and stared at him.</p> - -<p>“So you stole it?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, I did.”</p> - -<p>I threw myself back on the grass and we lay for -a minute in silence.</p> - -<p>“It’s wicked to steal!” I burst out, full of the saddest -perplexity.</p> - -<p>“Our people were all away. Marusia was crying -because she was hungry.”</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_156"></a>[156]</span>“Yes, I was hungry,” repeated the child with pitiful -simplicity.</p> - -<p>I had not yet discovered what hunger was, but at -the little one’s last words my breast heaved and I -stared at my friends as if I were seeing them for the -first time. Valek was lying on the grass as before, -pensively watching a soaring sparrow-hawk, but he -now no longer looked impressive. At the sight of -Marusia holding her piece of bread in both hands -my heart absolutely stopped beating.</p> - -<p>“Why”—I asked with an effort—“Why didn’t -you tell me this before?”</p> - -<p>“I wanted to tell you, and then I changed my -mind. You have no money of your own.”</p> - -<p>“Well, what difference does that make? I should -have brought a loaf from home.”</p> - -<p>“What, on the sly?”</p> - -<p>“Yes-es——”</p> - -<p>“Then you would have stolen it too.”</p> - -<p>“I—it would have been from my father.”</p> - -<p>“That’s worse!” said Valek decidedly. “I never -rob my father.”</p> - -<p>“Well, then, I should have asked for it. He would -have given it to me.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, he might have given it to you once—but -how could he provide for all the beggars in town?”</p> - -<p>“Are you—beggars?” I asked in a low voice.</p> - -<p>“Yes, we are beggars,” answered Valek bluntly -and gruffly.</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_157"></a>[157]</span>I said nothing, and in a few minutes I rose to go.</p> - -<p>“Are you going away already?” asked Valek.</p> - -<p>“Yes.”</p> - -<p>I was going because I could not, that day, play -tranquilly with my friends as before. The pure, -childish affection I had felt for them was sullied. -Although the love I bore Valek and Marusia was -not diminished, there was now mingled with it a sharp -current of pity that turned it to a burning heartache. -On reaching home I went to bed early because -I did not know where to lay this new feeling of pain -with which my whole soul was burning. I buried -my head under my pillow and wept bitterly until -kindly sleep at last came with her soft breath to -blow away my grief.</p> - - -<h3>VII</h3> - -<p class="caption">TIBURTSI APPEARS ON THE SCENE</p> - -<p>“Good morning! I thought you weren’t coming -back any more!” this was Valek’s greeting to me -when I appeared on the hill next day.</p> - -<p>I understood why he had said this.</p> - -<p>“No, I—I shall always come here,” I answered -firmly, to put an end to that question forever.</p> - -<p>Valek’s spirits rose perceptibly at this answer and -we both felt more at ease.</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_158"></a>[158]</span>“Well, and where are your people?” I asked. -“Haven’t they come back yet?”</p> - -<p>“Not yet. The Lord knows what has become of -them.”</p> - -<p>We went gaily to work to manufacture a cunning -sparrow trap for which I had brought the string. -This string we put into Marusia’s hand, and whenever -a thoughtless sparrow came hopping carelessly -into the snare, Marusia would pull the string, and -the cover would slam down over the bird, which we -would afterwards release.</p> - -<p>Meanwhile, at noon, the sky had grown overcast. -Dark clouds soon came rolling up, and we could -hear the storm roaring between merry claps of thunder. -I was very unwilling, at first, to go down into -the crypt, but remembering that Valek and Marusia -lived there always I overcame the unpleasant sensation, -and went with them. All was dark and quiet -there, but we could hear the muffled din of the thunder -overhead rumbling exactly as if some one were -driving an enormous wagon over a monstrous bridge. -I soon grew more accustomed to the crypt, and we -stood listening happily to the broad sheets of rain -descending upon the earth, while the roar and crash -of the incessant thunder-claps keyed up our nerves -and woke in us an animation that demanded an -outlet.</p> - -<p>“Come, let’s play blind-man’s buff!” I suggested.</p> - -<p>They tied a bandage over my eyes. Marusia’s<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_159"></a>[159]</span> -pitiful little laughter rang out as her languid feet -stumbled across the stone floor, while I ran in pursuit, -until I suddenly found myself bending over a -wet form, and at the same moment felt some one -seize my leg. A powerful arm raised me off -the floor and held me upside down in the air. The -bandage fell from my eyes.</p> - -<p>Tiburtsi, angry and wet and more terrible than -ever from being seen upside down, was holding me -by the leg and wildly rolling his eyes.</p> - -<p>“What is this, hey?” he asked sternly, glaring at -Valek. “So you are passing the time gaily here! -You have pleasant company, I see.”</p> - -<p>“Let me go!” I cried, surprised that I was able -to speak at all in such an unusual position, but -Tiburtsi only held my leg the tighter.</p> - -<p>“<i>Responde!</i> Answer!” he sternly commanded -Valek, who was standing under these difficult circumstances -with two fingers thrust into his mouth, as -if to proclaim that he had absolutely nothing to -say.</p> - -<p>I could see, though, that he was watching my unhappy -person swinging in space like a pendulum -with sympathetic eyes and a great deal of compassion.</p> - -<p>Tiburtsi raised me and looked into my face.</p> - -<p>“Aha, this is little master Judge unless my eyes -deceive me! Why does his honour favour us with -a visit?”</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_160"></a>[160]</span>“Let me go!” I cried stubbornly. “Let me go -at once!”</p> - -<p>And at this I instinctively made a movement as -if I were stamping my foot on the ground, but -the only result was the quivering of my body in -mid-air.</p> - -<p>Tiburtsi roared with laughter.</p> - -<p>“Ha, ha, ha! My Lord the Judge is pleased to -be annoyed! But come, you don’t know me yet. -<i>Ego Tiburtsi sum.</i> And I am going to hold you -over a fire, like this, and roast you like a little -pig.”</p> - -<p>I began to think that this would inevitably be my -fate, especially as Valek’s despairing face seemed -to foretell the possibility of such a sad ending, but -fortunately Marusia came to my rescue.</p> - -<p>“Don’t be frightened, Vasia! Don’t be frightened!” -she admonished me, going right up to Tiburtsi’s -legs. “He never roasts little boys over a -fire. That isn’t true!”</p> - -<p>Tiburtsi turned me right side up with a swift -movement, and set me on my feet; at this I nearly -fell down, for my head was swimming, but he supported -me with his hand and then, sitting down on -a log, stood me between his knees.</p> - -<p>“And how did you get here?” he asked. “Have you -been coming here long? You tell me!” he commanded, -turning to Valek when he saw that I would -not answer.</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_161"></a>[161]</span>“A long time,” answered the boy.</p> - -<p>“How long?”</p> - -<p>“Six days.”</p> - -<p>This answer seemed to please Tiburtsi.</p> - -<p>“Aha, six days!” he said, turning me round so -that I faced him. “Six days is a long time. And -have you babbled to any one yet where you have -been?”</p> - -<p>“No, not to any one.”</p> - -<p>“Is that true?”</p> - -<p>“Not to any one.”</p> - -<p>“<i>Bene</i>, that is excellent. The chances are that -you will not henceforth babble. I always did think -you were a decent little fellow from meeting you on -the street. You’re a real little guttersnipe, even if -you are a judge. Have you come here to try us, -eh?”</p> - -<p>He spoke kindly enough, but my feelings were -deeply hurt, therefore I answered crossly:</p> - -<p>“I’m not a judge. I’m Vasia.”</p> - -<p>“The one doesn’t interfere with the other, and -Vasia can be a judge too—not now, but later on. -It’s an old story. For instance, I am Tiburtsi, he -is Valek; I am a beggar, he is a beggar. In fact, -to speak frankly, I steal and he will steal too. Your -father tries me now; very well then, some day you -will try Valek. There you have it!”</p> - -<p>“I shan’t try Valek,” I answered gloomily. “That -isn’t true.”</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_162"></a>[162]</span>“He won’t try Valek,” Marusia spoke up for me, -confidently dismissing such an atrocious supposition.</p> - -<p>The little girl nestled confidingly against the legs -of this monster, and he tenderly stroked her curls -with his sinewy hand.</p> - -<p>“Don’t say that too soon,” said the strange fellow -pensively, turning to me and speaking as if I were -a grown man. “Don’t say that, <i>amice</i>! It’s an old -story; every man to his own, <i>suum cuique</i>; every one -must go his own way, and who knows, perhaps it’s -a good thing that your path has crossed ours. It’s -a good thing for you, <i>amice</i>, because it’s a good -thing to have a human heart in one’s breast and -not a cold stone—do you understand?”</p> - -<p>I understood nothing, but nevertheless I fixed my -gaze on this queer person’s face. Tiburtsi’s eyes -were looking deeply into mine, and there gleamed -dimly in them something that seemed to pierce into -my very soul.</p> - -<p>“Of course you don’t understand, because you are -still a child. Therefore let me tell you briefly that -you may some day remember the words of the philosopher -Tiburtsi. If you ever find yourself sitting in -judgment upon that boy there, remember that even -in the days when you were both silly little lads -playing together, you were travelling upon the road -where men walk well-clothed and well-fed, while he -was running along, a ragged sans-culotte with an<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_163"></a>[163]</span> -empty belly. And besides, until that happens, remember -one thing well,” he added, sharply changing -his tone. “If you whisper one word of what you -have seen here to that Judge of yours, or even to -a bird, as sure as my name is Tiburtsi Drab I’ll hang -you up by the heels in that fireplace and make roast -ham of you. You understand that, I hope?”</p> - -<p>“I won’t tell any one—I—may I come again?”</p> - -<p>“You may, I give you my permission—<i>sum conditionem</i>—but -you’re stupid yet and don’t understand -Latin. I have already told you about that -ham—now remember!”</p> - -<p>He let me go, and stretched himself wearily on a -bench by the wall.</p> - -<p>“Bring me that there,” he said to Valek, pointing -to a large bag which he had left on the threshold -as he came in. “And light the fire. We’re going -to cook dinner to-day.”</p> - -<p>He was now no longer the same man who had -frightened me a short while ago by rolling his eyes, or -the mountebank who was wont to amuse the public -for pennies. He had taken his place as a host at the -head of his family, and, like a man who has returned -from his daily toil, he issued commands to -his household.</p> - -<p>He seemed very tired. His clothes were drenched -with rain, his hair was clinging to his brow, and his -whole expression was one of utter weariness. It -was the first time I had seen that look on the face<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_164"></a>[164]</span> -of the jolly orator of the cafés, and this glimpse -behind the scenes of an actor resting after playing -a difficult and exhausting rôle on the stage of life, -filled my heart with a feeling of pain and dread. -It was another of those revelations with which the -old chapel had been so rife for me.</p> - -<p>Valek and I went quickly to work. Valek lit a -little torch, and together we entered a dark passage -adjoining the crypt. There, in a corner, lay some -logs of half-decayed wood, bits of crosses, and old -boards. We chose several pieces out of this store -and, heaping them up in the fireplace, kindled a little -fire. Then I had to stand aside while Valek with -knowing hands went to work alone on the cooking.</p> - -<p>Half an hour later some kind of a brew was already -stewing in a pot over the fire, and while we -were waiting for it to cook, Valek placed upon a -rough three-legged table a frying pan in which -some pieces of meat were steaming.</p> - -<p>Tiburtsi rose.</p> - -<p>“Is it ready?” he asked. “Well, that’s splendid. -Sit down with us, boy, you have earned your dinner. -Domine!”—he next shouted to the Professor. -“Put down your needle and come to the table.”</p> - -<p>“In a minute,” answered the Professor in a low -voice. Such a sensible remark from him surprised -me.</p> - -<p>But the spark of consciousness that Tiburtsi’s -voice had awakened in him did not reappear. The<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_165"></a>[165]</span> -old man thrust his needle into his rags and indifferently, -with a dull look, took his seat on one of the -logs that served as chairs in the crypt.</p> - -<p>Tiburtsi held Marusia on his lap. She and Valek -ate with an appetite that showed what a rare luxury -meat was for them; Marusia even licked her -greasy little fingers. Tiburtsi ate with frequent -pauses, and, evidently obeying an irresistible impulse -to talk, turned his conversation to the Professor. -The poor man of letters grew surprisingly -attentive whenever he did this, and bowed his -head to listen, with a great air of intelligence as if -he understood every word. Sometimes he even signified -his assent by nodding and making soft little -moans.</p> - -<p>“You see, Domine, how little a man needs,” Tiburtsi -said. “Am I not right? There! now our hunger -is appeased, and all that now remains for us to -do is to thank God—and the Roman Catholic Priest.”</p> - -<p>“Aha, aha!” agreed the Professor.</p> - -<p>“You agree with me, Domine, but you don’t know -what the Priest has to do with it. I know you well. -Nevertheless, if it weren’t for the Priest we shouldn’t -be eating fried meat and other things now.”</p> - -<p>“Did he give it to you?” I asked.</p> - -<p>“This youngster has an inquiring mind, Domine,” -Tiburtsi continued. “Of course his Reverence gave -us this, although we did not ask him for it, and although -not only his left hand knew not what his<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_166"></a>[166]</span> -right hand was doing, but neither hand had the -slightest knowledge of the transaction. Eat, -Domine!”</p> - -<p>All I could understand from this strange, confused -discourse was, that the method of obtaining -our dinner had not been quite regular, and I could -not refrain from asking another question.</p> - -<p>“Did you—take this yourself?”</p> - -<p>“The boy is not devoid of shrewdness,” Tiburtsi -continued. “It is only a pity that he hasn’t seen -the Priest. The Priest has a belly like a forty-gallon -cask, and it’s no doubt very dangerous for -him to indulge in greed. On the other hand all of -us here suffer rather from an excess of leanness than -from corpulence, therefore a certain amount of food -does not come amiss. Am I right, Domine?”</p> - -<p>“Aha, aha!” pensively moaned the Professor again.</p> - -<p>“There, you see! You have expressed your meaning -extremely successfully this time. I was beginning -to think that this youngster here had more -brains than some men of learning. However, to return -to the Priest, I always think that a good lesson -is worth the price, and in this case we can say that -we bought these provisions from him. If he makes -the doors of his store-house a little stronger in future -we shall be quits. However,” he cried, suddenly -turning to me, “you are stupid still and there is -much you don’t understand. But she, there, will<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_167"></a>[167]</span> -understand. Tell me, my Marusia, did I do right -to bring you some meat?”</p> - -<p>“Yes!” answered the child, her sapphire eyes shining -softly, “Manya was hungry.”</p> - -<p>At twilight that evening I turned homeward with -a reeling brain. Tiburtsi’s strange sayings had not -for a moment stilled the conviction in my breast that -it was “wicked to steal.” On the contrary, the painful -sensation that I had felt before had grown -stronger than ever. They were beggars, thieves, -they had no home! From every one around me I had -long ago heard that contempt was always attached -to such people. I felt all the poignancy of contempt -rising from the bottom of my soul, but I instinctively -shielded my affection from this bitter alloy, and -did not allow the two feelings to mingle. As a -result of these dark workings of my soul, my pity -for Valek and Marusia grew greater and more acute, -but my affection did not diminish. The formula -that “it was wicked to steal” remained inviolate in -my mind, but when I saw in imagination my small -friend licking her greasy little fingers I rejoiced in -her joy and in Valek’s.</p> - -<p>Next evening, in one of our dark garden paths, -I unexpectedly met my father. He was pacing up -and down as usual, staring before him with his accustomed -strange, vacant look. When I appeared -beside him he put his hand on my shoulder.</p> - -<p>“Where have you been?”</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_168"></a>[168]</span>“I—I have been out walking.”</p> - -<p>He looked at me sharply and seemed to want to -say something, but his eyes soon grew abstracted -again, and, with a motion of his hand, he walked -away down the path. Even in those days I seemed -to understand the meaning of that gesture. It -said:</p> - -<p>“Ah, what does it matter? <i>She</i> is not here!”</p> - -<p>I had lied almost for the first time in my life.</p> - -<p>I had always been afraid of my father, and I now -feared him more than ever. I was harbouring in -my breast a whole world of vague questions and sensations. -Could he understand me? Could I confess -anything to him without betraying my friends? -I trembled at the thought that in due time he would -hear of my acquaintance with that “bad company,” -but, betray Valek and Marusia—no, that I could -never do! There was a reason for my resolve: if -I broke my word and betrayed them, I should never -be able to raise my eyes to their faces again for -shame.</p> - - -<h3>VIII</h3> - -<p class="caption">AUTUMN</p> - -<p>Autumn was drawing near. In the fields the -harvest was being reaped; the leaves were turning<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_169"></a>[169]</span> -yellow in the woods. With the approach of autumn -Marusia’s health began to fail.</p> - -<p>It was not that she complained of any pain, but -she grew thinner every day; her face grew paler, her -eyes grew larger and darker, and it was with difficulty -that she could raise her drooping eyelids.</p> - -<p>I could climb the hill now without caring whether -the “bad company” was there or not. I had grown -thoroughly accustomed to them, and felt absolutely -at home in their abode.</p> - -<p>“You’re a fine youngster, and you’ll be a great -man some day,” Tiburtsi predicted.</p> - -<p>The younger “suspicious persons” made me a bow -and arrow out of elm wood; the tall, red-nosed Grenadier -twirled me in the air like a leaf as he gave me -gymnastic lessons. Only the Professor and Lavrovski -always seemed to remain unconscious of my -presence. The Professor was forever in the midst -of some deep dream, while Lavrovski, when he was -sober, by nature avoided all human intercourse, and -preferred to crouch in a corner by himself.</p> - -<p>All these people lived apart from Tiburtsi who, -with his “family,” occupied the crypt I have already -spoken of. They inhabited a crypt which was similar -to ours but larger, and which was divided from it -by two narrow halls. Here was less light and more -dampness and gloom. In places along the walls -stood wooden benches and the blocks which served -as chairs. The benches were littered with heaps<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_170"></a>[170]</span> -of rags, which had converted them into beds. In the -middle of the crypt, under a ray of light, stood a -joiner’s bench at which Tiburtsi and the others -sometimes worked. The “bad company” included -a cobbler and a basket maker, but all, with the exception -of Tiburtsi, were either starvelings or triflers; -men, I noticed, whose hands trembled too much -for them to do any work successfully. The floor of -this crypt was always strewn with chips and shavings -and dirt, and disorder reigned supreme, even though -Tiburtsi scolded the inmates furiously at times, and -made one of them sweep the floor and put the gloomy -abode in order if ever so little. I did not often visit -them because I could not accustom myself to the -foul air, and because, too, the sombre Lavrovski dwelt -there when he was sober. He was generally either -sitting on a bench with his head in his hands, his -long hair streaming, or pacing up and down from -corner to corner with swift strides. His -whole person breathed an atmosphere of such depression -and gloom that my nerves could not endure -it. His fellow-unfortunates, however, had long -since grown accustomed to his eccentric ways. -“General Turkevich” would sometimes set him to -work making fair copies of petitions and of quips -and quirks which he himself had written for the -townsfolk, or else he would make him write out the -lampoons which he afterwards nailed to the lamp -posts of the city. Lavrovski would then quietly<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_171"></a>[171]</span> -take his seat at a table in Tiburtsi’s room, and for -hours at a time would sit forming, one after another, -the beautiful, even letters of his exquisite -handwriting. Twice I chanced to see him carried -down stupefied with drink from above ground into -the crypt. The unhappy man’s head was dangling -and banging from side to side, his legs were trundling -helplessly after him and bumping down the stone -steps, his face wore a look of misery, and tears were -trickling down his cheeks. Marusia and I, clinging -tightly to one another, watched these scenes from -a distant corner, but Valek mixed quite nonchalantly -with the men, supporting now a hand, now a foot, -now the head of the helpless Lavrovski.</p> - -<p>Everything about these people that had amused -and interested me like a Punch and Judy show when -I saw it in the streets was revealed to me here, behind -the scenes, in all its ugly nakedness, and the -sight of it weighed heavily upon my childish spirits.</p> - -<p>Here Tiburtsi held undisputed sway. It was he -who had discovered the crypts, he who had taken -possession of them, and all his band obeyed him implicitly. -That is probably the reason why I do not -remember one single occasion on which any one of -those creatures, who had certainly lost all the semblance -of human beings, ever came to me with an evil -suggestion.</p> - -<p>Having gained in knowledge from a prosaic experience -of life, I know now that there must have<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_172"></a>[172]</span> -been a certain amount of depravity, petty vice, and -rottenness among them, but to-day, when those people -and scenes rise in my memory wrapped in the -mists of the past, I see before me only tragedy, poverty, -and the profoundest sadness.</p> - -<p>Oh, Childhood and Youth, what great fountainheads -of idealism you are!</p> - -<p>And now Autumn began to come into its own. -The sky was more frequently overcast, the surrounding -country sank into a misty crepuscule, torrents -of rain swept noisily across the earth, and their -thunder resounded monotonously and mournfully in -the crypt.</p> - -<p>I found it very hard to steal away from home in -this weather, for my one desire was to get away -unnoticed. When I came back drenched to the skin, -I would hang up my clothes before the fire myself, -and slip quietly into bed, there to endure philosophically -the torrents of scolding that would invariably -flow from the lips of the servants and my -nurse.</p> - -<p>Every time I visited my friends I noticed that -Marusia’s health was failing more and more. She -never went out into the fresh air now, and the grey -stone—that unseen, silent monster of the crypt—did -its dreadful work without interruption, sucking -the life out of her little body. The child spent -most of her time in bed, and Valek and I exhausted -every means in our power to amuse and<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_173"></a>[173]</span> -interest her and to awaken the soft peals of her -frail laughter.</p> - -<p>Now that I had really become one of the “bad -company” the child’s sad smile had grown almost -as dear to me as my sister’s, but with Marusia I -was not constantly reminded of my wickedness; here -was no scolding nurse; on the contrary, I knew -that each time I came my arrival would call the -colour into Marusia’s cheeks. Valek embraced me -like a brother, and even Tiburtsi would sometimes -watch us three with a strange expression on his face -and something very like tears glistening in his eyes.</p> - -<p>Then one day the sky grew clear again. The last -clouds blew away, and the sun shone out upon the -earth for the last time before winter’s coming. We -carried Marusia up into the sunlight, and there she -seemed to revive. She gazed about her with wide -eyes, and the colour came into her cheeks. It seemed -as if the wind that was blowing over her with its cool, -fresh breath were returning to her part of the life-blood -stolen by the grey stones of the crypt. But -alas! this did not last long.</p> - -<p>And in the meanwhile clouds were beginning to -gather over my head as well.</p> - -<p>One morning as I was running down the garden -path as usual I caught sight of my father and old -Yanush of the castle. The old man was cringing -and bowing and saying something to my father, and -the latter was standing before him, gloomy and stern,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_174"></a>[174]</span> -with a frown of impatient anger between his eyes. At -last my father stretched out his hand as if to push -Yanush aside, and said:</p> - -<p>“Go away! You are nothing but an old gossip!”</p> - -<p>The old man blinked and, holding his hat in his -hand, ran forward again and stood in my father’s -path. My father’s eyes flashed with anger. Yanush -was speaking in a low voice, and I could not hear -what he was saying, but my father’s broken sentences -fell upon my ears with the utmost distinctness, -like the blows of a whip.</p> - -<p>“I don’t believe a word of it—What do you want -to persecute those people for?—I won’t listen to -verbal accusations, and a written one you would -be obliged to prove—Silence! that is my business—I -won’t listen to you, I tell you.”</p> - -<p>He finally pushed Yanush away so firmly that the -latter did not dare to intrude upon him any longer. -My father turned aside into another path, and I -ran out through the gate.</p> - -<p>I very much disliked this old owl of the castle, and -I trembled now with a premonition of evil. I realised -that the conversation I had overheard related -to my friends and perhaps, also, to me.</p> - -<p>When I told Tiburtsi what had happened he made -a dreadful face.</p> - -<p>“Whew, young one, what bad news that is! Oh, -that accursed old fox!”</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_175"></a>[175]</span>“My father drove him away,” I answered to console -him.</p> - -<p>“Your father, young man, is the best judge there -has been since the days of Solomon, but do you know -what <i>curriculum vitæ</i> means? Of course you don’t. -But you know what the Record of Service is, don’t -you? Well, <i>curriculum vitæ</i> is the Record of Service -of a man who is not employed in the County Court, -and if that old screech-owl has been able to ferret -out anything and can show your father my record -why—well, I swear to the Queen of Heaven I wouldn’t -care to fall into the Judge’s clutches!”</p> - -<p>“He’s not a cruel man, is he?” I asked, remembering -what Valek had told me.</p> - -<p>“No, no, my boy, God forbid that you should think -that of your father! Your father has a good heart. -Perhaps he already knows everything that Yanush -has been able to tell him, and still holds his tongue. -He doesn’t think it is necessary to pursue a toothless -old lion into his last lair. But how can I explain it -to you, my boy? Your father works for a gentleman -whose name is Law. He has eyes and a heart -only as long as Law is nicely tucked up in bed, but -when that gentleman gets up and comes to your -father and says: ‘Come on, Judge, sha’n’t we get on -the trail of Tiburtsi Drab or whatever his name is?’ -from that moment the Judge must lock up his heart, -and his claws will become so sharp that the earth -will turn upside down before Tiburtsi will escape<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_176"></a>[176]</span> -out of his clutches. Do you understand, my boy? -And that’s why I, why we all, respect your father as -we do, because he is a faithful servant of his master, -and such men are rare. If all Law’s servants were -like him, Law could sleep quietly in his bed and -never wake up at all. My whole trouble is that I -had a quarrel with Law a long time ago—ah yes, my -boy, a very violent quarrel!”</p> - -<p>As he said this Tiburtsi got up, took Marusia’s -hand, and, leading her into a distant corner, began -kissing her and pressing his rough head to her tiny -breast. I stood motionless where I was under the -spell of the impression created by the strange words -of this strange man. In spite of the fantastic and -unintelligible twists and turns of his speech I understood -perfectly the substance of what Tiburtsi had -said, and my father’s image loomed more imposing -than ever in my imagination, invested with a halo -of stern but lovable strength amounting almost to -grandeur. But at the same time another and a bitterer -feeling which I bore in my breast had increased -in intensity. “That’s what he’s like!” I thought. -“And he doesn’t love me!”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_177"></a>[177]</span></p> - - -<h3>IX</h3> - -<p class="caption">THE DOLL</p> - -<p>The bright days soon passed, and Marusia began -to grow worse again. She now gazed indifferently -with her large, fixed, darkening eyes at all our cunning -devices for her amusement, and it was long -since we had heard her laughter. I began to bring -my playthings to the crypt, but they only diverted -her for a short time. I then decided to turn for -help to my sister Sonia.</p> - -<p>Sonia had a large doll with magnificent long hair -and cheeks painted a brilliant red, a present from -our mother. I had the greatest faith in the powers -of this doll, and therefore, calling my sister into a -distant part of the garden one day, I asked her to -lend it to me. I begged so earnestly and described -the little suffering girl who had no toys of her own -so vividly that Sonia, who at first had only clasped -the doll more tightly to her breast, handed it to -me and promised to play with her other toys for -two or three days and to forget the doll entirely.</p> - -<p>The effect produced on Marusia by this gaily -dressed young lady with the china face exceeded all -my wildest hopes. The child, who had been fading -like a flower in Autumn, suddenly seemed to revive -again. How tightly she hugged me! How merrily<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_178"></a>[178]</span> -she laughed as she chattered to her new acquaintance! -The doll almost worked a miracle. Marusia, -who had not left her bed for many days, began -to toddle about, pulling her fair-haired daughter -after her, and even ran a few steps, dragging -her weak little feet across the floor as she had done -in former days.</p> - -<p>At the same time the doll gave me many an anxious -moment. In the first place, on my way to the -hill with my prize under my coat, I had met Yanush -on the road, and the old man had followed me for a -long time with his eyes, and shaken his head. Then, -two days later, our old nurse had noticed the disappearance -of the doll, and had begun poking her -nose into every corner in search of it. Sonia tried -to appease her, but the child’s artless assurances -that she didn’t want the doll, that the doll had gone -out for a walk and would soon come back, only served -to create doubts in the minds of the servants, and -to awaken their suspicions that this might not simply -be a question of loss. My father knew nothing -as yet, and though Yanush, who came to him again -one day, was sent away even more angrily than before, -my father stopped me that morning on the -way to the garden gate and ordered me not to leave -home. The same thing happened on the following -day, and only on the fourth did I get up early and -slip away over the fence while my father was still -asleep.</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_179"></a>[179]</span>Things were still going badly on the hill. Marusia -was in bed again and was worse. Her face was -strangely flushed, her fair curls were lying disheveled -on her pillow, and she recognised no one. -Beside her lay the disastrous doll with its pink cheeks -and its stupid, staring eyes.</p> - -<p>I told Valek of the danger I was running, and we -both decided that undoubtedly I ought to take the -doll home, especially as Marusia would not notice its -absence. But we were mistaken! No sooner did I -take the doll out of the arms of the unconscious child -than she opened her eyes, stared vaguely about as if -she did not see me and did not know what was happening -to her, and then suddenly began to cry very, -very softly, but oh, so piteously, while an expression -of such deep sorrow swept across her features -under the veil of her delirium that, panic-stricken, I -immediately laid the doll back in its former place. -The child smiled, drew the doll to her breast, and -grew calm again. I realised that I had tried to deprive -my little friend of the first and last pleasure -of her short life.</p> - -<p>Valek looked shyly at me.</p> - -<p>“What shall we do now?” he asked sadly.</p> - -<p>Tiburtsi, who was sitting on a bench with his head -sunk dejectedly on his breast, also looked at me, -with a question in his eyes. I therefore tried to look -as careless as possible, and said:</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_180"></a>[180]</span>“Never mind; nurse has probably forgotten all -about it by now.”</p> - -<p>But the old woman had not forgotten. When I -reached home that day I again found Yanush at the -garden gate. Sonia’s eyes were red with weeping -and our nurse threw me an angry, icy glance and -muttered something between her toothless gums.</p> - -<p>My father asked me where I had been, and having -listened attentively to my usual answer, confined -himself to telling me not to leave the house without -his permission under any circumstances whatsoever. -This command was categorical and absolutely -peremptory. I dared not disobey it, and at the same -time I could not make up my mind to ask my father -for leave to go to my friends.</p> - -<p>Four weary days passed. I spent my time roaming -dejectedly about the garden, gazing longingly in -the direction of the hill, and waiting, too, for the -storm which I felt was gathering over my head. I -had no idea what the future might bring, but my -heart was as heavy as lead. No one had ever punished -me in my life; my father had never so much -as laid a finger on me, and I had never heard a harsh -word from his lips, but I was suffering now from an -oppressive sense of coming misfortune.</p> - -<p>At last my father summoned me to his study. I -opened the door and stopped timidly on the threshold. -The melancholy autumn sun was shining in -through the windows. My father was sitting in an<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_181"></a>[181]</span> -arm chair before a portrait of my mother, and did -not turn to look at me as I came in. I could hear -the anxious beating of my own heart.</p> - -<p>At last my father turned round; I raised my eyes -and instantly dropped them again. My father’s face -looked terrible to me. Half a minute passed, and I -could feel his stern, fixed, withering gaze riveted -upon me.</p> - -<p>“Did you take your sister’s doll?”</p> - -<p>The words fell upon my ears so suddenly and -sharply that I quivered.</p> - -<p>“Yes,” I answered in a low voice.</p> - -<p>“And do you know that that doll was a present -from your mother, and that you ought to have preserved -it as something sacred? Did you steal it?”</p> - -<p>“No,” I answered, raising my head.</p> - -<p>“How can you say no?” my father suddenly -shouted. “You stole it and took it away. Whom -did you take it to? Speak!”</p> - -<p>He strode swiftly toward me, and laid a heavy -hand upon my shoulder. I raised my head with an -effort, and looked up. My father’s face was pale. -The frown of pain which had lain between his brows -since my mother’s death was still there, but now his -eyes were flashing with sombre wrath. I shrank -away. I seemed to see madness—or was it hatred?—glaring -at me out of those eyes.</p> - -<p>“Well, what did you do? Answer!” And the hand<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_182"></a>[182]</span> -which was holding my shoulder gripped it more -tightly than before.</p> - -<p>“I—I won’t tell you,” I answered in a low voice.</p> - -<p>“Yes, you will tell me!” my father rapped out, -and there was a threat in his voice.</p> - -<p>“I won’t tell you,” I whispered lower still.</p> - -<p>“You will, you will!”</p> - -<p>He repeated these words in a muffled voice as if -they had burst from him with a painful effort. I felt -his hand trembling, and even seemed to hear the rage -boiling in his breast. My head sank lower and -lower, and tears began to drip slowly out of my eyes -upon the floor, but I still kept repeating almost -inaudibly:</p> - -<p>“No, I won’t tell; I’ll never, never tell.”</p> - -<p>It was my father’s son speaking in me. He could -never have succeeded in extorting an answer from -me, no, not by the fiercest tortures. There welled up -in my breast in response to his threats the almost unconscious -feeling of injury that comes to an ill-used -child, and a sort of burning love for those -whose betrayal my father was demanding.</p> - -<p>My father drew a deep breath. I shrank away -still farther, and the bitter tears scalded my cheeks. -I waited.</p> - -<p>It would be hard for me to describe my sensations -at that moment. I knew that his breast was -seething with rage, and that at any moment my body -might be struggling helplessly in his strong, delirious<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_183"></a>[183]</span> -arms. What would he do to me? Would he hurl me -from him? Would he crush me? But I did not seem -to dread that now. I even loved the man in that -moment of fear, but, at the same time, I felt instinctively -that he was about to shatter this love -with one mad effort, and that for ever and ever -after I should carry the same little flame of hatred -in my heart which I had seen gleaming in his eyes.</p> - -<p>I had lost all sense of fear. Instead, there had -begun to throb in my heart a feeling exasperating, -bold, challenging; I seemed to be waiting, and longing -for the catastrophe to come at last.</p> - -<p>It would be better so—yes—better—better——</p> - -<p>Once more my father sighed heavily. I was no -longer looking at him. I only heard his sighs, long, -deep, and convulsive, and I know not to this day -whether he himself overcame the frenzy that possessed -him or whether it failed to find an outlet owing -to an unexpected occurrence. I only know that at -that critical moment Tiburtsi suddenly shouted under -the open window in his harsh voice:</p> - -<p>“Hi, there, my poor little friend!”</p> - -<p>“Tiburtsi is here!” flashed through my mind, but -his coming made no other impression on me. I was -all beside myself with suspense, and did not even -heed the trembling of my father’s hand upon my -shoulder, or realise that Tiburtsi’s appearance or -any other external circumstance could come between -my father and myself, or could avert that which I<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_184"></a>[184]</span> -believed to be inevitable, and which I was awaiting -with such a flood of passionate anger.</p> - -<p>Meanwhile Tiburtsi had quickly opened the door -of the room, and now stood on the threshold embracing -us both with his piercing, lynx-like glance. I can -remember to this day the smallest details of the scene. -For a moment a flash of cold, malevolent mockery -gleamed in the greenish eyes and passed over the -wide, uncouth face of this gutter orator, but it was -only a flash. Then he shook his head, and there was -more of sorrow than of his accustomed irony in his -voice as he said:</p> - -<p>“Oho, I see that my young friend is in an awkward -situation.”</p> - -<p>My father received him with a gloomy, threatening -look, but Tiburtsi endured it calmly. He had -grown serious now, and his mockery had ceased. -There was a striking look of sadness in his eyes.</p> - -<p>“My Lord Judge,” he said gently. “You are a -just man; let the child go! The boy has been ‘in -bad company,’ but God knows he has done no bad -deeds, and if his little heart is drawn toward my -unfortunate people, I swear to the Queen of Heaven -that you may hang me if you wish, but I will not -allow the boy to suffer for that. Here is your doll, -my lad.”</p> - -<p>He untied a little bundle, and took out the doll.</p> - -<p>The hands that had been gripping my shoulder -relaxed. My father looked surprised.</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_185"></a>[185]</span>“What does this mean?” he asked at last.</p> - -<p>“Let the boy go!” Tiburtsi repeated, stroking my -bowed head lovingly with his broad palm. “You will -get nothing out of him with your threats, and besides, -I will gladly tell you everything you want to -know. Come, Your Honour, let us go into another -room.”</p> - -<p>My father consented, with his eyes fixed in surprise -on Tiburtsi’s face. They went out together, -and I stayed rooted to the spot, overwhelmed with -the emotions with which my heart was bursting. At -that moment I was unconscious of what was going -on around me, and if, in calling to mind the details -of this scene, I remember that sparrows were twittering -outside the window and that the rhythmic splash -of the water-wheel came to me from the river, why -that is only the mechanical action of my memory. -Nothing external existed for me then; there existed -only a little boy in whose breast two separate emotions -were seething: anger and love; seething so -fiercely that my heart was troubled as a glass of -water is dimmed when two different liquids are poured -into it at the same time. Such a little boy existed, -and that boy was I; I was even sorry, in a way, for -myself. There existed also two voices, that came to -me from the next room in a confused but animated -conversation.</p> - -<p>I was still standing on the same spot when the -study door opened, and both talkers came into the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_186"></a>[186]</span> -room. Once more I felt a hand on my head, and -trembled.</p> - -<p>It was my father’s, and he was tenderly stroking -my hair.</p> - -<p>Tiburtsi took my hands, and set me upon his knees -right in my father’s presence.</p> - -<p>“Come and see us,” he said. “Your father will -let you come and say good-bye to my little girl. She—she -is dead.”</p> - -<p>Tiburtsi’s voice trembled, and he winked his eyes -queerly, but he at once rose quickly to his feet, set -me down on the floor, pulled himself together, and -left the room.</p> - -<p>I raised my eyes inquiringly to my father’s face. -Another man was standing before me now, and there -was something lovable about him which I had sought -in vain before. He was looking at me with his usual -pensive gaze, but there was a shade of surprise in -his eyes, and what might have been a question. The -storm which had just passed over our heads seemed -to have dispelled the heavy mist that had lain on -my father’s soul and frozen the gentle, kind expression -on his face. He now seemed to recognise in me -the familiar features of his own son.</p> - -<p>I took his hand trustfully, and said:</p> - -<p>“I didn’t steal it. Sonia lent it to me herself.”</p> - -<p>“Yes,” he answered thoughtfully. “I know; I -am guilty before you, boy, but you will try to forget -it sometime, won’t you?”</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_187"></a>[187]</span>I seized his hand and kissed it. I knew that he -would never again look at me with the dreadful -eyes which I had seen only a few moments before, -and my long pent-up love burst forth in a torrent. -I did not fear him now.</p> - -<p>“Will you let me go to the hill?” I suddenly asked, -remembering Tiburtsi’s invitation.</p> - -<p>“Ye-es—go, boy, and say good-bye,” he answered -tenderly, but with still the same shade of hesitation -in his voice. “No, wait a minute; wait a minute, -boy, please.”</p> - -<p>He went into his bed-room and came back in a -minute with a few bills which he thrust into my -hand.</p> - -<p>“Give these to Tiburtsi. Tell him that I beg him—do -you understand?—that I beg him to accept this -money—from you. Do you understand? And say, -too,” added my father, “say that if he knows any -one called Feodorovich he had better tell that Feodorovich -to leave this town. And now run along -boy, quickly.”</p> - -<p>Panting and incoherent, I overtook Tiburtsi on -the hill and gave him my father’s message.</p> - -<p>“My father begs you to——” I said, and pressed -the money which I had received into his hand.</p> - -<p>I did not look at his face. He took the money, -and gloomily listened to my message concerning -Feodorovich.</p> - -<p>In the crypt, on a bench in a dark corner, I found<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_188"></a>[188]</span> -Marusia lying. The word death has little meaning -for a child, but bitter tears choked me at the sight -of her lifeless body. My little friend was lying there -looking very serious and sad, and her tiny face was -pitifully drawn. Her closed eyes were a little sunken -and the blue circles around them were darker than -before. Her little mouth was slightly open, and -wore an expression of childish grief. This little -grimace was Marusia’s answer to our tears.</p> - -<p>The Professor was standing at her bedside, indifferently -shaking his head. The Grenadier was -hammering in a corner, making a coffin out of some -old boards torn from the chapel roof. Lavrovski, -sober and with a look of perfect understanding, -was strewing Marusia’s body with autumn flowers -which he himself had gathered. Valek was lying -asleep in a corner, shuddering all over in his dreams, -and crying out restlessly from time to time.</p> - - -<h3>X</h3> - -<p class="caption">CONCLUSION</p> - -<p>Soon after this the members of the “bad company” -dispersed to the four corners of the earth. There remained -behind only the Professor, who until his death -continued to haunt the streets of the town, and<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_189"></a>[189]</span> -Turkevich, to whom my father would give a little -writing to do from time to time. For my part, I lost -not a little blood in combats with the Jewish boys -who tormented the Professor by reminding him of -sharp and pointed instruments.</p> - -<p>The Grenadier and the other suspicious characters -went elsewhere to seek their fortunes. Tiburtsi and -Valek suddenly and completely vanished, and no one -could say whither they had gone, as no one knew -whence they had come.</p> - -<p>The old chapel has suffered much since then from -the onslaughts of Time. First the roof fell in, breaking -down the ceiling of the crypt. Then landslides -began to form around the building, and the place -grew more dismal than ever. The owls now hoot more -loudly than before among its ruins, and the will-o’-the-wisps -on the graves still glow with a malign blue -fire on dark autumn nights.</p> - -<p>One grave only, surrounded by a little fence, grows -green with fresh grass every spring, and lies bedecked -with brilliant flowers.</p> - -<p>Sonia and I used often to visit this little grave, and -sometimes our father would go with us. We liked to -sit there in the shade of the whispering birch trees, -with the town below us shimmering placidly in the -sunlight. Here my sister and I read and dreamed -together, sharing our first young thoughts and our -first premonitions of upright, winged youth.</p> - -<p>And when at last the time came for us to leave the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_190"></a>[190]</span> -quiet city of our birth, it was here, over this little -grave, in the Springtime of life and hope, that we -made our last compacts with one another on the last -day that we spent at home.</p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_191"></a>[191]</span> -<h2 class="nobreak">THE DAY OF ATONEMENT</h2> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_192"></a>[192]</span></p> - - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_193"></a>[193]</span> -<p class="ph1">THE DAY OF ATONEMENT</p> -</div> - -<p class="caption">A TALE OF LITTLE RUSSIA<a id="FNanchor_9" href="#Footnote_9" class="fnanchor">[I]</a></p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse">The lights are out, the moon is rising.</div> -<div class="verse">The were-wolf in the wood is feeding.</div> -</div> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verseright">—Shevchenko.</div> -</div></div></div> - - -<h3>I</h3> - -<p><span class="smcap">Listen</span> to me, man; go out of your khata on a -clear night, or better still walk to the top of some -little hill, and look well at the sky and the earth. -Watch the bright moon climbing the heavens, and -the stars winking and twinkling, and the light clouds -of mist rising from the earth and wandering off -somewhere one behind the other like belated travellers -on a night journey. The woods will lie as if bewitched, -listening to the spells that rise from them -after the midnight hour, and the sleepy river will -flow murmuring by you, whispering to the sycamores<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_194"></a>[194]</span> -on its banks. Then tell me after that if anything, -if any miracle, is not possible in this khata of God’s -which we call the wide world.</p> - -<p>Everything is possible. Take, for instance, an -adventure that happened to a friend of mine, the -miller from Novokamensk. If no one has told you -the story already, I will tell it to you now, only -please don’t make me swear that every word is true. -I won’t swear to a thing, for though I got it from -the miller himself, I don’t know to this day whether -it really happened to him or not.</p> - -<p>But whether it’s true or not, I shall tell it to -you as I heard it.</p> - -<p>One evening the miller was returning from vespers -in Novokamensk, which was about three versts, not -more, from his mill. For some reason the miller -was a little out of temper, though he himself could -not have said why. Everything had gone well in the -church, and our miller, who could shout with the -best, had read the prayers so loudly and so fast -that the good people had been astonished.</p> - -<p>“How he does bawl, that son of a gun!” they had -exclaimed with the deepest respect. “You can’t understand -one word he says. He’s a regular wheel, -he is; he turns and spins and you know he has spokes -in him, but you can’t see a single one, no matter -how closely you look. His reading sounds like an -iron wheel rumbling over a stony road; you can’t -catch a word of it to save your life.”</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_195"></a>[195]</span>The miller heard what the people were saying -among themselves, and it made him glad. <i>He</i> knew -how to work for the glory of God, he did! He -swung his tongue as a lusty lad swings a flail on a -threshing floor, till he was parched to the bottom of -his throat and his eyes were popping out of his -head.</p> - -<p>The priest took him home with him after church, -gave him tea, and set a full bottle of herb brandy -before him, and this was afterwards taken away -empty. The moon was floating high above the fields, -and was staring down into the swift little Stony -River when the miller left the priest’s house and -started home to his mill.</p> - -<p>Some of the villagers were already asleep; some -were sitting in their khatas eating their suppers by -the light of a tallow-dip, and some had been tempted -out into the street by the warm, clear autumn -night. The old people were sitting at the doors of -their khatas, but the lasses and lads had gone out -under the hedges where the heavy shade of the cherry -trees hid them from view, and only their low voices -could be heard in various places, with an occasional -peal of suppressed laughter, and now and then the -incautious kiss of a young couple. Yes, many things -can happen in the dense shade of a cherry tree on -such a clear, warm night!</p> - -<p>But though the miller could not see the villagers, -they could see him very well because he was walking<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_196"></a>[196]</span> -down the middle of the street in the full light of the -moon. And so they occasionally called out to him as -he passed:</p> - -<p>“Good evening, Mr. Miller! Aren’t you coming -from the priest’s? Is it at his house you have been -such a long time?”</p> - -<p>Every one knew that he could not have been anywhere -else, but the miller liked the question, and, -slackening his pace, he would answer a little proudly -each time:</p> - -<p>“Yes, yes, I’ve made him a little visit!” and then -he would walk on more puffed-up than ever.</p> - -<p>On the other hand, some of the people sat as -silent as mice under the eaves of their houses, and -only hoped he would go by quickly and not see where -they were hidden. But the miller was not the man -to pass or forget people who owed him for flour or -for grinding, or who simply had borrowed money -from him. No use for them to sit out of sight in the -dark, as silent as if they had taken a mouthful of -water! The miller would stop in front of them every -time and say:</p> - -<p>“Good evening! Are you there? You can hold -your tongues or not as you like, but get ready to -pay me your debts, because your time will be up early -to-morrow morning. And I won’t wait for the -money, I promise you!”</p> - -<p>And then he would walk on down the street with his -shadow running beside him, so black, so very black,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_197"></a>[197]</span> -that the miller, who was a bookman and always ready -to use his brain if need be, said to himself:</p> - -<p>“Goodness, how black my shadow is! It really is -strange. When a man’s overcoat is whiter than -flour why should his shadow be blacker than soot?”</p> - -<p>At this point in his reflections he reached the inn -kept by Yankel the Jew, which stood on a little hill -not far from the village. The Sabbath had been -over since sunset, but the inn-keeper was not at home; -only Kharko was there, the Jew’s servant, who took -his place on Sabbaths and feast-days. Kharko lit his -master’s candles for him and collected his debts on -each Hebrew holiday, for the Jews, as every one -knows, strictly observe the rules of their faith. Do -you think a Jew would light a candle or touch money -on a holiday? Not he! It would be a sin. Kharko -the servant did all that for the inn-keeper, and he, his -wife, and his children, only followed him sharply -with their eyes to see that no stray five or ten copeck -pieces wandered into his pocket by accident instead -of into the till.</p> - -<p>“They’re cunning people!” thought the miller to -himself. “Oh, they’re very cunning! They know -how to please their God and catch every penny at the -same time. Yes, they’re clever people, far cleverer -than we are, there’s no use denying it!”</p> - -<p>He paused on the little patch of earth at the inn -door trampled hard by the numberless human feet<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_198"></a>[198]</span> -that jostled each other there every week day and -shouted:</p> - -<p>“Yankel! Hey, Yankel! Are you at home or -not?”</p> - -<p>“He isn’t at home, can’t you see that?” answered -the servant from behind the counter.</p> - -<p>“Where is he, then?”</p> - -<p>“Where should he be? In the city of course,” answered -the servant. “Don’t you know what to-day -is?”</p> - -<p>“No, what is it?”</p> - -<p>“Yom Kippur, the Day of Atonement!”</p> - -<p>“Ah, so that’s the explanation!” thought the miller.</p> - -<p>And I must tell you that even though Kharko was -a common servant and the servant of a Jew at that, -he had been a soldier, and could write, and was a very -proud person. He liked to turn up his nose and give -himself airs, especially before the miller. He could -read in church no worse than the miller himself, except -that he had a cracked voice and talked through -his nose. In reading the prayers he always managed -to keep up with Philip the miller, but in reading -the Acts he was left far behind. But he never -yielded an inch. If the miller said one thing, he always -said another. If the miller said “I don’t know,” -the servant would answer “I do.” A disagreeable -fellow he was! So now he was delighted because he<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_199"></a>[199]</span> -had said something that had made the miller scratch -his head under his hat.</p> - -<p>“Perhaps you don’t know even yet what day this -is?”</p> - -<p>“How can I keep track of every Jewish holiday? -Am I a servant of Jews?” retorted the miller angrily.</p> - -<p>“Every holiday, indeed! That’s just it; this isn’t -like every holiday. They only have one like this -every year. And let me tell you something: no other -people in the whole world have a holiday like this -one.”</p> - -<p>“You don’t say so!”</p> - -<p>“You’ve heard about Khapun, I suppose?”</p> - -<p>“Aha!”</p> - -<p>The miller only whistled. Of course, he might have -guessed it! And he peeped in through the window of -the Jewish khata. The floor was strewn with hay -and straw; in two and three branched candlesticks -slender tallow candles were burning; he could hear -a humming that seemed to come from several huge, -lusty bees. It was Yankel’s young second Wife and -a few Jewish children mumbling and humming their -unintelligible prayers with closed eyes. There was, -however, something remarkable about these prayers; -it seemed as if each one of these Jews were possessed -by some alien creature, sitting there in him weeping -and lamenting, remembering something and praying -for something. But to whom were they praying, and -for what were they asking? No one could have said.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_200"></a>[200]</span> -Only whatever it was, it seemed to have no connection -either with the inn or with money.</p> - -<p>The miller was filled with pity and sadness and -dread as he listened to the prayers of the Jews. He -glanced at the servant, who could also hear the humming -through the door of the inn, and said:</p> - -<p>“They’re praying! And so you say Yankel has -gone to the city?”</p> - -<p>“Yes.”</p> - -<p>“And what did he want to do that for? Supposing -Khapun should happen to get him?”</p> - -<p>“I don’t know why he went,” answered the servant. -“If it had been me, though I’ve fought with -every heathen tribe under the sun and got a medal -for it, no silver roubles on earth could have tempted -me away from here. I should have stayed in my -khata; Khapun would hardly snatch him out of his -hut.”</p> - -<p>“And why not? If he wanted to catch a man he’d -get him in his khata as well as anywhere else, I -suppose.”</p> - -<p>“You think he would, do you? If you wanted to -buy a hat or a pair of gloves, where would you go for -them?”</p> - -<p>“Where should I go but to a store?”</p> - -<p>“And why would you go to a store?”</p> - -<p>“What a question! Because there are plenty of -hats there.”</p> - -<p>“Very well. And if you looked into the synagogue<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_201"></a>[201]</span> -now you would see Jews a-plenty in there. They are -jostling one another, and weeping and screaming so -that the whole city from one end to another can hear -their lamentations. Where the gnats are there the -birds go. Khapun would be a fool if he trotted about -hunting and rummaging through all the woods and -villages. He has only one day in the year, and do -you think he would waste it like that? Some villages -have Jews in them, and some haven’t.”</p> - -<p>“Well, there aren’t many that haven’t!”</p> - -<p>“I know there aren’t many that haven’t, but there -are some. And then, he can pick and choose so much -better out of a crowd.”</p> - -<p>Both men were silent. The miller was thinking -that the servant had caught him again with his -clever tongue, and he was feeling uncomfortable for -the second time. The humming and weeping and -lamenting of the Jews still came to them through -the windows of the hut.</p> - -<p>“Perhaps they are praying for the old man?”</p> - -<p>“Perhaps they are. Anything is possible.”</p> - -<p>“Does it really ever happen?” asked the miller, -wishing to tease the servant, and at the same time -feeling a twinge of human pity for the Jew. “Perhaps -it’s only gossip. You know how people will -gabble silly nonsense, and how every one believes -them.”</p> - -<p>These words displeased Kharko.</p> - -<p>“Yes, people do gabble nonsense; like you, for instance!”<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_202"></a>[202]</span> -he answered. “Do you think I invented the -story myself, or my father or my father-in-law, when -every Christian knows it is true?”</p> - -<p>“Well, but have you seen it happen yourself?” -asked the miller irritably, stung by the servant’s -scornful words.</p> - -<p>Now you must know that when the miller was in -a passion he sometimes said that he didn’t believe -in the Devil himself, and wouldn’t, until he saw him -sitting in the palm of his hand. And he was flying -into a passion now.</p> - -<p>“Have you seen it happen yourself?” he repeated. -“If you haven’t, don’t say it’s true, do you hear?”</p> - -<p>Then the servant hung his head, and even went so -far as to cough. Though he had been a soldier and -was a lively fellow, he could sing very small at times.</p> - -<p>“No, I haven’t seen it myself, I won’t tell you a -lie. And you, Mr. Miller, have you ever seen the city -of Kiev?”</p> - -<p>“No, I haven’t: I won’t tell you a lie, either.”</p> - -<p>“But Kiev is there just the same!”</p> - -<p>When he heard it put as clearly as that, the miller’s -eyes nearly popped out of his head.</p> - -<p>“Whatever is true, is true,” he assented. “Yes, -Kiev is there, though I haven’t seen it. One certainly -ought to believe what honest folks say. You see, I -should like to—I want to ask you who told you the -story?”</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_203"></a>[203]</span>“Who told it to me? Bah! Who told you about -Kiev?”</p> - -<p>“Tut, tut, what a tongue you have! It’s sharper -than a razor; may it shrivel in your head!”</p> - -<p>“There’s no reason why my tongue should shrivel -in my head. You’d better believe what people say -when every one says it. If every one says it, it must -be true. If it weren’t true, every one wouldn’t say it; -only magpies like you would say it, so there!”</p> - -<p>“Tut, tut, tut! For Heaven’s sake stop a minute! -You rattle out your words like a pestle in a -mortar. I see I was on the wrong track, but I only -wanted to know how the story began.”</p> - -<p>“It began because it happens every year. Whatever -happens people will talk about; what doesn’t -happen isn’t worth talking about.”</p> - -<p>“What a fellow you are! Wait a minute, let me -catch your prattle by the tail; you whirl like a wild -mare in a bog. Only just tell me what really takes -place, that’s all!”</p> - -<p>“Eh hey, so you don’t know, I see, what takes -place on the Day of Atonement?”</p> - -<p>“I used to know, and that’s why I didn’t ask. I -used to hear people chattering like you about -Khapun, Khapun, but what the sense of it was I -never could make out.”</p> - -<p>“Then you ought to have said so at once, and I -should have told you long ago. I don’t like proud -people who, when they want a drink of gorelka,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_204"></a>[204]</span> -say they’d drink water if it didn’t taste so bad. If -you want to know what happens I’ll tell you, because -I’ve been about the world and am not a stay-at-home -like you. I have lived in the city for more -than a year, and this is the first time I have ever -worked for a Jew.”</p> - -<p>“And isn’t it a sin to work for a Jew?” asked the -miller.</p> - -<p>“It would be for any one else; a soldier can do -anything. We get a paper given to us that says so.”</p> - -<p>“Can a piece of paper really——”</p> - -<p>Then the soldier began telling the miller very -affably all about Khapun and how he carries off one -Jew a year on this day.</p> - -<p>And if you don’t know it, I might as well tell you -that Khapun is a regular Hebrew devil. He is just -like ours in every way, black, with horns just like -him, and he has wings like a huge bat; the only difference -is that he wears ringlets and a skull cap, and -only has power over Jews. If a Christian meets -him at midnight in the desert, or even on the shore of -a pond, he runs away like a scared dog. But he can -do what he likes with the Jews, so he catches one -every year and carries him away.</p> - -<p>And Yom Kippur, the Day of Atonement, is the -day fixed for him to make his choice. Long before -that day comes the Jews weep and tear their clothes, -and even put ashes out of their stoves on their heads -for some reason or other. On the evening of the day<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_205"></a>[205]</span> -they bathe in the rivers and ponds, and as soon as -the sun goes down the poor wretches all go to their -churches, and you never heard in your life such -screams as come from there then! They all bawl at -the top of their lungs, keeping their eyes shut tight -with terror all the time. Then, as soon as the sky -grows dark and the evening star comes out, Khapun -comes flying from where he lives, and hovers over the -church. He beats on the windows with his wings, and -looks in to choose his prey. But when midnight -comes, that’s when the Jews begin to get really -frightened. They light all the candles to give themselves -courage, fall down on the floor, and begin to -scream as if some one were cutting their throats. -And while they are lying there squirming Khapun -flies into the room in the shape of a great -crow, and they all feel the cold wind of his wings -blowing across their hearts. The Jew whom Khapun -has already spotted through the window -feels the devil’s claws sinking into his back. Ugh! -It makes one’s flesh creep even to tell of it, so -just think what the poor Jew must feel! Of course -he yells as loud as ever he can. But who can hear -him when all the rest of them are yelling like lunatics, -too? And maybe one of his neighbours does hear -him, and is only glad it isn’t himself who is in such -a sorry plight.</p> - -<p>Kharko himself had heard more than once the pitiful, -clear, long-drawn notes of a trumpet floating<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_206"></a>[206]</span> -out over the city. It was a novice in the synagogue -trumpeting out a farewell call to his unfortunate -brother, while the rest of the Jews were putting on -their shoes in the entry—Jews always go into church -in their stocking feet—or standing in little groups in -the moonlight, whispering together on tip-toe, staring -up at the sky. And when the last man has gone, -one lonely pair of shoes is left lying in the entry, -waiting for its owner. Ah, those shoes will have to -wait a long time, for at that very moment Khapun is -flying with their owner high over woods and fields, -over valleys and hills and plains, flapping his wings, -and keeping well out of sight of Christian eyes. The -accursed one is glad when the night is cloudy and -dark. But when it is clear and still like to-night, -with the moon shining as bright as day, the devil’s -work may very well come to naught.</p> - -<p>“And why?” asked the miller, trembling lest the -talkative Kharko should begin poking insults at him -again. But this time the servant answered quietly -enough:</p> - -<p>“Well, you see, any Christian, no matter if he’s -stupid, like you, can call to the devil: ‘Drop it! -It is mine!’ and Khapun will drop the Jew at once. -The devil will flutter his wings, and fly away with a -shrill cry like a wounded hawk, to be left without -prey for a year. The Jew will fall to the ground. -It will be lucky for him if he wasn’t too high up and -if he falls into a bog or some other soft spot. If<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_207"></a>[207]</span> -he doesn’t, no one will profit by his fall, neither -he nor the devil.”</p> - -<p>“So that’s how it is!” said the miller, staring nervously -at the sky, in which the moon was shining with -all its might. The heavens were clear; only one -little cloudlet like a bit of black down was flying -swiftly along between the moon and the wood that -shrouded the river bank. It was a cloud, of course, -but one thing about it seemed strange to the miller. -Not a breath of wind was stirring, the leaves on the -bushes were motionless as if in a trance, and yet the -cloud was flying like a bird straight toward the -city.</p> - -<p>“Come here; let me show you something!” the miller -called to the servant.</p> - -<p>Kharko came out of the inn, and leaning against -the door post, said calmly:</p> - -<p>“Well, what is it? A fine thing you have found -to show me! That’s a cloud, that is; let it alone!”</p> - -<p>“Take another look at it! Is there any wind blowing?”</p> - -<p>“Well, well, well! That <i>is</i> funny!” said the servant, -perplexed. “It’s making straight for the city, -too.”</p> - -<p>And both men scratched their heads and craned -their necks.</p> - -<p>The same humming sounds came to their ears -through the window as before; the miller caught a -glimpse of lugubrious yellow faces, closed eyes, and<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_208"></a>[208]</span> -motionless lips. The little Jews were crying and -wriggling, and once more the miller seemed to see an -alien presence in them weeping and praying for -something unknown, long lost, and already half -forgotten.</p> - -<p>“Well, I must be going home,” said the miller, -collecting his wits. “And yet I wanted to pay Yankel -a few copecks.”</p> - -<p>“That’s all right. I can take them for him,” said -the servant, without looking at the miller.</p> - -<p>But the miller pretended not to have heard this -last remark. The sum was not so small that he -cared to intrust it to a servant, much less to a vagabond -soldier. With a sum like that the fellow might -easily kick up his heels, as the saying is, and run -away, not only out of the village, but even out of -the District. If he did that, look for the wind in -the fields, you would find it sooner than Kharko!</p> - -<p>“Good night!” said the miller at last.</p> - -<p>“Good night! And I’ll take the money if you’ll -give it to me!”</p> - -<p>“Don’t bother; I can give it to him myself.”</p> - -<p>“Do as you like. But if I took it you wouldn’t be -bothered about it any more. Well, well, it’s time to -close the inn. You’re the last dog that’ll be round -to-night, I’ll be bound.”</p> - -<p>The servant scratched his back on the door post, -whistled not very agreeably after the miller, and -bolted the door on which were depicted in white paint<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_209"></a>[209]</span> -a quart measure, a wine-glass, and a tin mug. Meanwhile -the miller descended the hill, and walked down -the road in his long white overcoat, with his coal-black -shadow running beside him as before.</p> - -<p>But the miller was not thinking of his shadow now. -His thoughts were of something far different.</p> - - -<h3>II</h3> - -<p>The miller had not gone more than a hundred -yards when he heard a rustling and fluttering that -sounded like two large birds taking flight from behind -the hedge. But it was not a pair of birds; it -was only a lad and a lass, startled by the miller’s sudden -appearance out of the darkness. The lad, it -seemed, was not to be frightened. Creeping into -the shadows so that the two white figures were barely -visible under the cherry trees, he put his arm firmly -around the girl, and continued his low-toned discourse. -A few yards farther on the miller heard -something that halted him with annoyance.</p> - -<p>“Hey, you there! I don’t know what your name -is——” he cried. “But you might wait until I had -gone by to do your kissing. Your smacks can be -heard all over the village.”</p> - -<p>And he walked right up to the hedge.</p> - -<p>“You cur you, what do you mean by poking -your nose into other people’s affairs?” a lad answered<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_210"></a>[210]</span> -out of the darkness. “Wait a minute, I’ll -kiss you on the nose with my fist! I’ll teach you to -interfere with people!”</p> - -<p>“Come, come, never mind!” said the miller, stepping -back. “One would think you were doing something -important! You’re a bad lad, you are, to -smack a girl like that; you make a man envious. Oh, -what are people coming to!”</p> - -<p>He stood still for a moment, thought a bit, -scratched his head, and finally turned aside, threw his -leg over the hedge, and crossed a field to a widow’s -cottage that stood a little way back from the road -in the shade of a tall poplar tree.</p> - -<p>The khata was a tiny, lop-sided affair, crumbling -and falling to pieces. Its one little window was so -minute that it would have been almost invisible had -the night been at all dark. But now the whole cottage -was glowing in the moonlight; its straw roof -was shining like gold, its walls seemed to be made of -silver, and the little window was blinking like a dark -eye.</p> - -<p>No light shone behind it. Probably the old woman -and her daughter had no fuel and nothing to cook for -supper.</p> - -<p>The miller paused a moment, then knocked twice -at the window and went a few steps aside.</p> - -<p>He had not long to wait before two plump girlish -arms were wound tightly around his neck, and something -glowed among his whiskers that felt very much<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_211"></a>[211]</span> -like two lips pressed to his mouth. Hey ho, what -more is there to tell! If you have ever been kissed -like that you know yourself how it feels. If you -haven’t, it’s no use trying to tell you.</p> - -<p>“Oh, Philipko, my darling for whom I have -longed!” crooned the girl. “You have come, you -have come! And I have been waiting so wearily for -you. I thought I should parch up with longing, like -grass without water.”</p> - -<p>“Eh hey, she hasn’t parched up, though, thank -God!” thought the miller, as he pressed the girl’s not -emaciated form to his breast. “Thank God, she is -all right yet!”</p> - -<p>“And when shall we have the wedding, Philip?” -asked the girl with her hands still lying on Philip’s -shoulders, while she devoured him with burning eyes -as dark as an autumn night. “Saint Philip’s day -will soon be here.”</p> - -<p>This speech was less to the miller’s liking than the -girl’s kisses.</p> - -<p>“So that’s what she’s driving at!” thought he. -“Ah, Philip, Philip, now you’re going to catch it!”</p> - -<p>But he summoned all the courage he had, and, -turning his eyes away, answered:</p> - -<p>“What a hurry you’re in, Galya, I declare! Thinking -about the wedding already, are you? How can -we get married when I am a miller and may soon be -the richest man in the village, and you are only a -poor widow’s daughter?”</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_212"></a>[212]</span>The girl staggered back at these words as if a -snake had bitten her. She jumped away from Philip -and laid her hand on her heart.</p> - -<p>“But I thought—oh, my poor head—then why -did you knock at the window, you wicked man?”</p> - -<p>“Eh hey!” answered the miller. “You ask why I -knocked. Why shouldn’t I knock when your mother -owes me money? And then you come jumping out -and begin to kiss me. What can I do? I know -how to kiss as well as any man——”</p> - -<p>And he stretched out his hand toward her again, -but the moment he touched the girl’s body she started -as if an insect had stung her.</p> - -<p>“Get away!” she screamed, so angrily that the miller -fell back a step. “I’m not a rouble bill that you -can lay your hands on as if I belonged to you. If -you come back again I’ll warm you up so that you’ll -forget how to make love for three years.”</p> - -<p>The miller was taken aback.</p> - -<p>“What a little firebrand it is! Do you think I’m a -Jew that you howl at me so hatefully?”</p> - -<p>“If you’re not a Jew, then what are you? You -charge half a rouble for every rouble you lend, and -then you come to me for interest besides! Get away, -I tell you, you horrid brute!”</p> - -<p>“Well, my girl!” said the miller, nervously covering -his face with his hand as if she had really hit him with -her fist. “I see it’s no use for a sensible man to talk -to you. Go and send your mother to me.”</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_213"></a>[213]</span>But the old woman had already come out of the -hut, and was making a low curtsey to the miller. -Philip enjoyed this more than he had the words of the -girl. He stuck his arms akimbo, and the head of his -black shadow rubbed so hard against the wall that he -wondered his hat didn’t come off.</p> - -<p>“Do you know what I’ve come for, old woman?” -he asked.</p> - -<p>“Oh, how should I not know, poor wretch that I -am! You have come for my money.”</p> - -<p>“Ha, ha, not <i>your</i> money, old woman!” the miller -laughed. “I’m not a robber; I don’t come at night -and take money that isn’t mine.”</p> - -<p>“Yes, you <i>have</i> come for money that isn’t yours!” -retorted Galya, angrily falling upon the miller. “You -<i>have</i> come for it!”</p> - -<p>“Crazy girl!” exclaimed the miller, stepping back. -“Upon my word there isn’t another girl in the whole -village as crazy as you are. And not in the village -alone, in the whole District. Just think a minute -what you have said! If it weren’t for your mother, -who probably wouldn’t testify against you, I’d have -you up in court before Christmas for cheating -me. Come, think a little what you’re doing, girl!”</p> - -<p>“Why need I think when I’m doing right?”</p> - -<p>“How can it be right for the old woman to borrow -money from me and not pay?”</p> - -<p>“You lie! You lie like a dog! You came courting -me when you were still a workman at the mill; you<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_214"></a>[214]</span> -came to our khata and never said a word about wanting -anything in return. And then, when your uncle -died and you came to be a miller yourself, you collected -the whole debt, and now even that won’t satisfy -you!”</p> - -<p>“And the flour?”</p> - -<p>“Well, what about the flour? How much do you -ask for it?”</p> - -<p>“Sixty copecks a pood, not less! No one would let -you have it cheaper than that, no, not if you threw -your precious self in with it into the bargain.”</p> - -<p>“And how much have you already collected from -us?”</p> - -<p>“Tut, tut, how she does talk! You’ve a tongue in -your head as bad as Kharko’s, girl. I’ll answer that -by asking you for the interest. Have you paid it?”</p> - -<p>But Galya was silent. It is often that way with -girls. They talk and talk and rattle along like a mill -with all its stones grinding, and then they suddenly -stop dead. You’d think they had run short of water. -That’s how Galya did. She burst into a flood of -bitter tears, and went away wiping her eyes on the -wide sleeve of her blouse.</p> - -<p>“There now!” said the miller, a little confused but -satisfied in his heart. “That’s what comes of attacking -people. If you hadn’t begun shouting at me -there wouldn’t have been anything to cry for.”</p> - -<p>“Hold your tongue! Hold your tongue, you foul -creature!”</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_215"></a>[215]</span>“Hold your own tongue, if that’s what you think!”</p> - -<p>“Be quiet, be quiet, my honey!” the mother joined -in, heaving a deep sigh. The old woman was evidently -afraid of irritating the miller; it was clear -she could not pay him now that her time was up.</p> - -<p>“I won’t be quiet, mother, I won’t, I won’t!” answered -the girl, as if all the wheels in her mill had -begun turning again. “I won’t be quiet; and if you -want to know, I’m going to scratch out his eyes so -that he won’t dare to get me gossiped about for nothing, -and come knocking at my window and kissing me! -Tell me what you meant by knocking, or I’ll catch -you by the top-knot without stopping to ask if you -are a miller and a rich man or not. You never used -to be proud like that; you came courting me yourself -and pouring out tender words. But now you -hold your nose so high that your hat won’t stay on -your head!”</p> - -<p>“Oi, honey, honey, do be quiet, my poor dear little -orphan!” begged the old woman with another grievous -sigh. “And you, Mr. Miller, don’t think ill of -the poor silly girl. Young hearts and young wisdom -are mates; they are like new beer in a ferment. -They boil and foam, but if you will let them stand -awhile they will grow sweet to a man’s taste.”</p> - -<p>“What do I care?” answered the miller. “I don’t -ask for either bitter or sweet from her, because you -are not my equals, either of you. Give me the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_216"></a>[216]</span> -money, old woman, and I’ll never come near your -khata again.”</p> - -<p>“Okh, but we have no money! Wait a little; we -will work for some, my daughter and I, and then we -will pay you. Oh, misery me, Philipko, dearie, what -a time I do have with you and with her! You know -yourself I have loved you like a son; I never thought, -I never guessed, you would cast my debts in my teeth -and with the interest, too! Oh, if I could only get my -daughter married! A good husband would be easy to -find, but she won’t have any one. Ever since you -have come courting the girl you seem to have cast -a spell over her. ‘I’d rather be buried in the cold -ground than marry any one else,’ she says. I was -foolish ever to let you stay here until dawn. Oi, -misery me!”</p> - -<p>“But what can I do?” asked the miller. “You -don’t understand these things, old woman. A rich -man has many calls on his money. I pay the Jew -what I owe him; now you must pay me.”</p> - -<p>“Wait just one month!”</p> - -<p>The miller rubbed his head and reflected. He -felt a little sorry for the old woman, and Galya’s -embroidered blouse was gleaming in the distance.</p> - -<p>“Very well, then, only I’ll have to add thirty -copecks to the debt for interest. You’d better pay -at once.”</p> - -<p>“What can I do? It’s my fate not to pay, I can -see that.”</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_217"></a>[217]</span>“All right, I’ll leave it at that. I’m not a -Jew. I’m a decent sort of a fellow. Any one else -would have charged you forty copecks at least, I -know that for certain, and I’m only asking you -twenty, and shall wait till St. Philip’s day for the -money. But then you will have to look out. If you -don’t pay, I’ll complain about you to the police.”</p> - -<p>With these words he turned, bowed, and walked -away across the pasture, without so much as a glance -at the hut at whose door there shone for a long -time a white embroidered blouse. It shone against -the dark shade of the cherry trees like a little white -star, and the miller could not see the black eyes -weeping, the white arms stretched out toward him, -the young breast sighing for his sake.</p> - -<p>“Don’t cry, my honey; don’t cry, my sugar-plum!” -the old woman soothed her child. “Don’t -cry, it’s God’s will, my darling.”</p> - -<p>“Okh, mother, mother, if only you had let me -scratch out his eyes, perhaps I should feel better!”</p> - - -<h3>III</h3> - -<p>After that adventure the miller’s thoughts became -gloomier than ever.</p> - -<p>“Somehow nothing ever goes right in this world,” -he said to himself. “Unpleasant things are always -happening, a man never knows why. For instance,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_218"></a>[218]</span> -that girl there drove me away. She called me a -Jew. If I were a Jew and had as much money as -I have and a business like mine, would I live as I -do? Of course not! Look what my life is! I work -in the mill myself; I don’t half sleep by night; I -don’t half eat by day; I keep my eye on the water -to see it doesn’t run out; I keep my eye on the stones -to see they don’t come loose; I keep my eye on the -shafts and the pinions and the cogs to see they run -smoothly and don’t miss a stroke. Yes, and I keep -my eye on that infernal workman of mine. How -can one depend on a servant? If I turn my back for -an instant the scoundrel runs off after the girls. -Yes, a miller’s life is a dog’s life, it is! Of course, -though, ever since my uncle—God rest his soul—fell -into the mill-pond drunk, and the mill came to -me, the money has been collecting in my pockets. -But what’s the result? Don’t I have to tramp for -hours after every single rouble I make, and get -abused for it to my face, yes, to my very face? And -how much do I get in the end? A trifle! A Christian -never does get as much as a Jew. Now if only the -devil would carry away that Jew Yankel I might -be able to manage. The people wouldn’t go to any -one but me then, whether they wanted flour or money -for taxes. Oho! In that case I might even open a -little inn, and then I could either get some one to -run the mill for me, or else sell it. Bother the mill, -say I! Somehow a man isn’t a man as long as he<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_219"></a>[219]</span> -has to work. The fact is, one copeck begets another. -Only fools don’t know that. If you buy -yourself a pair of pigs, for instance—pigs are prolific -animals—in a year you’ll have a herd of them, -and money’s just the same. If you put it out to -pasture among stupid folk you can sit still and -yawn until the time comes to drive it home. Every -copeck will have brought forth ten copecks, every -rouble will have brought forth ten roubles.”</p> - -<p>The miller had now reached the crest of a hill -from where the road sloped gently to the river. -From here, when the night breeze breathed into his -face, he could faintly hear the sleepy water murmuring -in the mill-race. Looking behind him, the -miller could see the village sleeping among its gardens, -and the widow’s little khata under its tall poplars. -He stood plunged in thought for a few moments, -scratching the back of his head.</p> - -<p>“Ah, what a fool I am!” he said at last, resuming -his journey. “If my uncle hadn’t taken it into -his head to get drunk on gorelka and walk into the -mill-pond I might have been married to Galya to-day, -but now she’s beneath me. Okh, but that girl is -sweet to kiss! Goodness, how sweet she is! That’s -why I say that nothing ever goes right in this world. -If that little face had a nice dowry behind it, if it -had even as much as old Makogon is giving away -with his Motria, there would be nothing more to be -said!”</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_220"></a>[220]</span>He cast one last look behind him, and turned on -his way, when suddenly the stroke of a bell resounded -from the village. Something seemed to have fallen -from the church steeple that rose from a hill in -the centre of the town, and to be flying, clanging -and rocking, across the fields.</p> - -<p>“Eh, hey, it is midnight on earth,” the miller -mused, and with a great yawn he turned and walked -rapidly down the hill, thinking of his flock as he -went. He saw his roubles as if they had been alive, -passing from hand to hand and from business to -business, grazing and multiplying. He laughed to -recall that some fools thought they worked for -themselves. And when the time was ripe, he, the -owner of the flock, would drive it and its increase -back into his iron chest.</p> - -<p>These thoughts were all pleasant ones, but the -recollection of the Jew spoilt them again. The miller -was provoked because that son of Israel had seized -all the grazing for himself, leaving his poor roubles -nowhere to feed and nothing to grow fat on, like -a flock of sheep in a field where Jewish goats had -already been pasturing. Every one knew they never -could fatten there!</p> - -<p>“Oh, I wish the devil would get him, the foul -brute!” the miller said to himself, and he decided -it was the thought of the Jew that depressed him -so. That’s what was wrong with the world. Those<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_221"></a>[221]</span> -infernal Jews prevented Christians from collecting -their lawful profits.</p> - -<p>Half way down the hill, where the peaceful, drowsy -sound of the water in the mill-race came unintermittently -to his ears, the miller suddenly stopped and -struck his forehead with the palm of his hand.</p> - -<p>“Ha! What a joke it would be! It would be a -grand joke, I swear! This the Day of Atonement. -What if the Hebrew devil should take a fancy to -our inn-keeper Yankel? But he won’t! It couldn’t -possibly happen. The town is crammed with Jews, -and Yankel is a tipsy old wretch, as bony as a -hedgehog. Who would want him? No,” thought the -miller, “I’m not lucky enough for Khapun to choose -our Yankel out of thousands of others.”</p> - -<p>Then, like a nest of ants in a turmoil, another -train of thought began to pass through his head.</p> - -<p>“Ah, Philip, Philip!” he said to himself. “It isn’t -right for a Christian to think such things! Recollect -yourself! Yankel would leave children behind -him, as well as debts. And another reason why it -is sinful: Yankel has never done you any harm. If -others have reason to blame the old inn-keeper, you -yourself are not guiltless of usury.”</p> - -<p>But the miller hastily sent other and angrier -thoughts to attack these last unpleasant reflections -that had begun to bite his conscience like vicious -dogs.</p> - -<p>“But after all, a Sheeny is only a Sheeny, and isn’t<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_222"></a>[222]</span> -in the same class with Christians at all. Even if -I do lend money—and I do, there’s no use denying it—it’s -better for Christians to pay interest to a -brother Christian than to a heathen Jew.”</p> - -<p>At that moment the last notes of the bell pealed -out from the belfry.</p> - -<p>Probably Ivan Kadilo, the bell-ringer, had gone -to sleep in the church and had pulled the bell rope in -his sleep, so long had he taken to sound the hour -of midnight. To atone for his neglect, this last tug -was so violent that the miller actually jumped as -the sound came rolling over the hill, over his head, -across the river, across the wood, and away over the -distant fields through which wound the road to the -city.</p> - -<p>“Every one is asleep now,” the miller thought, -and something gripped his heart. “Every one is -asleep where he wants to be; all but the Jews crowded -weeping into their churches, and I, who am standing -here by my mill-pond like a lost soul, thinking -wicked thoughts.”</p> - -<p>And everything seemed very strange to him.</p> - -<p>“I hear the sound of the bell dying away over -the fields,” thought he, “and I feel as if something -invisible were running, moaning, through the country. -I see the woods beyond the river drenched with dew -and shining in the moonlight, and I begin to wonder -why they should be covered with frost on a summer’s -night. And when I remember that my uncle<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_223"></a>[223]</span> -was drowned in that pond, and how glad I was -that it happened, I seem to lose heart entirely. I -don’t know whether to go down to the mill or to -stay where I am.”</p> - -<p>“Gavrilo! Hey, Gavrilo!” he shouted at last. -“There now! The mill is empty, and that scamp -has made off to the village again after the girls.”</p> - -<p>Philip stepped out into a bright spot of moonlight -on the dam, and stood listening to the water -trickling through the sluices. It seemed to him to -be stealing out of the pond and creeping toward -the mill-wheels.</p> - -<p>“I had better go to bed,” he thought. “But I’ll -see that everything is all right first.”</p> - -<p>The moon had long since climbed to the zenith, and -was looking down into the water. The miller wondered -that the little river should be deep enough to -hold the moon, and the dark blue sky with all its -stars, and the little black cloudlet that was flying -along all alone like a bit of down from the direction -of the city.</p> - -<p>But as his eyes were already half blind with sleep -he did not wonder long. Having opened the outer -door of the mill and bolted it again from the inside -so that he should hear his reprobate workman when -he came home, he lay down to sleep.</p> - -<p>“Hallo, get up, Philip!” he suddenly thought to -himself, and he jumped out of bed in the darkness as -if some one had hit him with an axe. “I forgot that<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_224"></a>[224]</span> -that little cloud was the same one the Jew’s servant -and I saw flying toward the city, and wondered as we -watched it how it could move without wind. There -isn’t much wind now, and what there is isn’t coming -from that quarter. Wait a minute, Philip, there’s -something queer about this!”</p> - -<p>The miller was very sleepy, but, nevertheless, he -went out barefoot on to the dam, and stood in the -middle of it scratching his chest and back (the -mill was not free from fleas). A light breeze was -blowing from the mill-pond behind him, and yet there -was that little cloud flying directly in his face. Only -it now no longer looked feathery-light, neither did it -fly as swiftly and freely as before. It seemed to be -swaying a little and falling to earth like a wounded -bird. As it flew across the moon the miller at last -saw very clearly what it was, for against that bright -orb were silhouetted a pair of dark, flapping wings, -and below them was hanging a human form with -a long, quivering beard.</p> - -<p>“Aha, here’s a pretty to do!” thought the miller. -“He’s carrying one of them away. What shall I -do? If I shout to him: drop it, it is mine! the poor -Jew may break his neck or fall into the pond. He’s -pretty high up.”</p> - -<p>But he soon saw that the situation was changing. -The devil was circling over the mill with his burden, -and beginning to sink to the ground.</p> - -<p>“He was greedy and chose a morsel too big for<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_225"></a>[225]</span> -him,” the miller said to himself. “Now I can rescue -the Jew; he’s a living soul, after all, and isn’t to -be compared to a devil. Come then, God bless me, -let me shout my loudest!”</p> - -<p>But instead of shouting he strangely enough ran -away from the dam as fast as his legs could carry -him, and hid under the sycamores that stood like -nixies at the edge of the mill-pond, bathing their -green branches in its dark water. The darkness was -as deep under them as in a barrel, and the miller felt -sure that no one could see him. To tell the honest -truth, his teeth were chattering madly and his hands -and feet were trembling as the shafts trembled when -his mill was running. Nevertheless, he couldn’t resist -the temptation of peeping out to see what would -happen next.</p> - -<p>First the devil fell almost to earth with his prey, -and then rose again above the tree-tops, but it was -plain to see that his load was too heavy for him. -Twice he actually touched the water, so that the -ripples spread in circles from the Jew’s feet, but -each time he flapped his wings, and rose again with his -prey as a sea-gull rises from the water with a heavy -fish. At last, after circling about two or three times, -the devil fell heavily on to the dam, and lay as if -dead, with the fainting Jew inanimate at his side.</p> - -<p>And I must tell you—I had nearly forgotten it—that -our friend the miller had long ago seen whom -the Jewish Khapun had brought from the city. And<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_226"></a>[226]</span> -when he recognised him—need I conceal it when he -has confessed it himself?—he grew merry at heart -and thought:</p> - -<p>“Thank God, it is no other than our inn-keeper -from Novokamensk! What happens next is none -of my business, because I don’t think I ought to -interfere in other people’s affairs. When two dogs -are fighting there’s no reason a third should jump -in. Again I say, let sleeping dogs lie. What if I -hadn’t have happened to be here? I’m not the Jew’s -guardian.”</p> - -<p>And he also thought:</p> - -<p>“Aha, Philipko, now your time has come in Novokamensk!”</p> - - -<h3>IV</h3> - -<p>Both the unfortunate Jew and the devil lay motionless -on the dam for a long time. The moon had -begun to redden, and was hanging above the tree-tops -as if only waiting to see what the end would -be before setting. A hoarse cock crowed in the -village, and a dog yelped twice. But no other cocks -or dogs answered these two; it evidently still lacked -some hours to dawn.</p> - -<p>The miller was exhausted, and was already beginning -to think it had all been a dream, especially as -the dam now lay wrapped in profoundest darkness, -so that it was impossible to distinguish what the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_227"></a>[227]</span> -black object lying upon it was. But when the solitary -cock-crow resounded from the village the dark -mass stirred. Yankel raised his head in its skull-cap, -looked about him, got up, and began to steal softly -away, stepping high like a stork with his thin legs, -in his stocking-feet.</p> - -<p>“Hi, there! Stop him; he’s making off!” the -startled miller came near shouting, but next moment -he saw the devil catch Yankel by his long coat-tails.</p> - -<p>“Wait a bit!” Khapun cried. “There’s plenty of -time yet. What a hurry you’re in! Here you are -wanting to be off again before I’ve had time to rest! -It’s all right for you, but what about me, who have -to drag a big fellow like you along? I’m nearly -dead!”</p> - -<p>“Very well, then,” said the Jew, trying to free his -coat-tails from the devil’s grasp. “Rest a little -longer, and I’ll walk to my inn on foot.”</p> - -<p>The devil jumped up in surprise.</p> - -<p>“What’s that you’re saying?” he cried. “Do you -think I have hired myself out to you as a cart to -take you home from church, you hound? You must -be joking!”</p> - -<p>“Why should I be joking?” asked the wily Yankel, -pretending to have no idea what the Devil wanted -with him. “I am very grateful indeed to you for -having brought me so far, and I can now go on<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_228"></a>[228]</span> -quite well by myself. It is only a short way. I -wouldn’t think of troubling you any more.”</p> - -<p>The devil quivered with rage. He ran round and -round on the same spot like a chicken with its head -off, and knocked Yankel down with his wing. He -was panting like a blacksmith’s bellows.</p> - -<p>“Well, I never!” the miller thought. “I don’t -care if it is sin to admire a devil, I do admire this -one; he would never let his lawful property slip -between his fingers, one can see that!”</p> - -<p>Yankel sat up and began to yell with all his -might. Even the devil could do nothing to stop -him. Every one knows that as long as a Jew has -a breath in his body nothing will make him hold -his tongue.</p> - -<p>“What does it matter, though?” thought the -miller, looking round at his empty mill. “My man -is either amusing himself with the girls or else lying -drunk under a hedge.”</p> - -<p>A sleepy frog in the mud answered Yankel’s pitiful -screams with a croak, and a bittern, that foul -bird of the night, boomed twice as if from an empty -barrel: boo-oo, boo-oo! The moon had finally sunk -behind the wood, assured that the Jew was dead -and done for; darkness had fallen upon the mill, the -dam, and the river, and a white mist had gathered -over the pond.</p> - -<p>The devil carelessly shook his wings, and lay down -again, saying with a laugh:</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_229"></a>[229]</span>“Scream as loud as you like! The mill is deserted.”</p> - -<p>“How do you know it’s deserted?” snapped the -Jew, and he began to scream for the miller.</p> - -<p>“Mr. Miller! Oi, Mr. Miller! Golden, silver, -diamond Mr. Miller! Please, please come here for -one little tiny second and say three words, three -little tiny words! I’ll make you a present of half -the debt you owe me if you’ll only come!”</p> - -<p>“You’ll make me a present of the whole debt!” -said a voice in the miller’s heart.</p> - -<p>The Jew stopped screaming, his head sank forward -on his breast, and he burst into a fit of bitter -weeping.</p> - -<p>Again some time passed. The moon had now -set, and its last rays had died out of the sky. Everything -in heaven and on earth seemed wrapped -in the deepest slumber; not a sound could be -heard except the Jew’s low weeping and his exclamations -of:</p> - -<p>“Oh, my Sarah! Oh, my poor children! My -poor little children!”</p> - -<p>The devil felt a little rested, and sat up. Although -it was dark, the miller could distinctly see a pair of -horns like a young calf’s outlined against the white -mist that hung over the pond.</p> - -<p>“He looks just like ours!” thought the miller, -feeling as if he had swallowed something exceedingly -cold.</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_230"></a>[230]</span>Then he saw the Jew nudge the devil with his -elbow.</p> - -<p>“What are you nudging me for?” asked Khapun.</p> - -<p>“Sh, I want to tell you something.”</p> - -<p>“What?”</p> - -<p>“Won’t you please tell me why it is your custom -always to carry off a poor Jew? Why don’t you -catch a daintier morsel? For instance, there is -an excellent miller living right here.”</p> - -<p>The devil sighed deeply. Perhaps he was tired -of sitting there on the edge of the pond by the empty -mill; anyhow, he entered into conversation with the -Jew. He raised his skull-cap—you must know that -he wore a skull-cap with long ringlets hanging from -underneath it, just as the servant had described him—and -scratched his crown with a rasping noise like -the most savage of cats clawing a board when a -mouse has escaped it. Then he said:</p> - -<p>“Alas, Yankel, you don’t know our business! I -couldn’t possibly approach him.”</p> - -<p>“And why, may I ask, would you have to take the -time to approach him? I know for myself that you -snatched me away before I could even yell.”</p> - -<p>The devil laughed so merrily that he actually -frightened a night-bird out of the reeds, and said:</p> - -<p>“That’s a fact! You were easy to catch. And -do you know why?”</p> - -<p>“Why-y?”</p> - -<p>“Because you’re a good lusty catcher yourself.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_231"></a>[231]</span> -I assure you there’s no other race on earth as sinful -as you Jews.”</p> - -<p>“Oi, vei, that is most surprising! And what are -our sins?”</p> - -<p>“Listen and I shall tell you.”</p> - -<p>The devil turned to the Jew and began counting -on his fingers.</p> - -<p>“Number one. You are usurers.”</p> - -<p>“One,” repeated Yankel, also counting on his -fingers.</p> - -<p>“Number two. You live by the blood and sweat -of the people.”</p> - -<p>“Two.”</p> - -<p>“Number three. You sell the people vodka.”</p> - -<p>“Three.”</p> - -<p>“Number four. You dilute it with water.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, let number four go! And what is the next?”</p> - -<p>“Are four sins so few? Ah, Yankel, Yankel!”</p> - -<p>“Oh, I don’t say four are few, I only say that -you don’t know your own business. Do you think -the miller isn’t a usurer, do you think the miller -doesn’t live by the sweat and blood of the people?”</p> - -<p>“Come, now, don’t pick at the miller! He’s not -that kind of a man—he’s a Christian. A Christian -is supposed to have pity not only on his own people -but on others, too, even on Jews like you. That’s -why it’s so hard for me to catch a Christian.”</p> - -<p>“Oi, vei, what a mistake you make there!” cried -the Jew gaily. “Here, let me tell you something——”</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_232"></a>[232]</span>He jumped up, and the devil rose too; they stood -facing one another. The Jew whispered something -in the devil’s ear, motioning toward some object -behind him under the sycamore tree. He pointed it -out to the devil with his crooked forefinger.</p> - -<p>“That’s number one!”</p> - -<p>“You’re lying; it can’t be true!” the devil answered, -a little startled, peering toward the trees -where Philip was hiding.</p> - -<p>“Ha, ha, I know better! Just wait a moment.”</p> - -<p>Once more he whispered something, and then said -aloud:</p> - -<p>“Number two! And this——” again he whispered -in the devil’s ear. “Makes three, as I am an honest -Jew!”</p> - -<p>The devil shook his head and answered doubtfully:</p> - -<p>“It can’t be true.”</p> - -<p>“Let’s make a bet. If I am right you shall let -me go free when a year is up, and repay me my losses -into the bargain.”</p> - -<p>“Ha! I agree. What a joke it would be! Then -I should try my power——”</p> - -<p>“You’re getting a fine bargain, I can tell you!”</p> - -<p>At that moment the cock in the village crowed -once more, and although his voice was so sleepy that -again no other bird answered him out of the silent -night, Khapun shuddered.</p> - -<p>“Here, what am I standing here gaping at you for<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_233"></a>[233]</span> -while you tell me tales? A bird in the hand is worth -two in the bush. Come along!”</p> - -<p>He flapped his wings, flew a few feet along the -dam, and once more fell upon poor Yankel like a -hawk, burying his claws in the back of his shirt, -and preparing to take flight.</p> - -<p>Alas, how piteously old Yankel screamed, stretching -out his arms toward the village and his native -hut, calling his wife and children by name!</p> - -<p>“Oi, my Sarah! Oi, Shlemka, Iteley, Movshey! -Oi, Mr. Miller, Mr. Miller! Please, please save -me! Say the three words! I see you; there you -are, standing under the sycamore tree. Have pity -on a poor Jew! He has a living soul like you!”</p> - -<p>Very, very piteous were poor Yankel’s lamentations! -Icy fingers seemed to clutch the miller’s heart -and squeeze it until it ached. The devil seemed to -be waiting for something, his wings fluttered like the -wings of a young bustard that has not learnt to -fly. He hovered silently over the dam with Yankel -in his talons.</p> - -<p>“What a wretch that devil is!” thought the miller, -hiding farther under the trees. “He is only tormenting -the poor Jew. If the cocks should crow -again——”</p> - -<p>Hardly had that thought entered his head than -the devil laughed till the wood rang, and suddenly -sprang aloft into the sky. The miller peered upward, -but in a few seconds the devil appeared no<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_234"></a>[234]</span> -larger than a sparrow. Then he glimmered for a -moment like a fly, then like a gnat, and at last -disappeared.</p> - -<p>Then the miller was seized with genuine terror. -His knees knocked together, his teeth chattered, his -hair stood on end so high that, had he been wearing -a hat, it would certainly have been knocked off his -head. He never could say exactly what he did next.</p> - - -<h3>V</h3> - -<p>Bang—bang!</p> - -<p>Bang—bang—bang! Bang—bang!</p> - -<p>Some one was knocking so loudly at the door of -the mill that the whole building was filled with noisy -echoes that reverberated in every corner. The miller -thought the devil might have come back—he and -the Jew had not whispered together for nothing!—so -he only buried his head under the pillow.</p> - -<p>“Bang—bang! Bang—bang! Hey, master, unlock -the door!”</p> - -<p>“I won’t!”</p> - -<p>“And why won’t you?”</p> - -<p>The miller raised his head.</p> - -<p>“Ah, that sounds like Gavrilo’s voice. Gavrilo, -is that you?”</p> - -<p>“Who else should it be?”</p> - -<p>“Swear that it’s you!”</p> - -<p>“What?”</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_235"></a>[235]</span>“Swear!”</p> - -<p>“All right, then, I swear it’s me. How could I -not be myself? And yet you want me to swear it! -There’s a marvel for you!”</p> - -<p>Even then the miller wouldn’t believe him. He went -upstairs and peeped out of a window over the door, -and there beneath him stood Gavrilo. The miller -was much relieved and went down to open the door.</p> - -<p>Gavrilo was actually staggered when the miller -appeared in the doorway.</p> - -<p>“Why, master, what has happened to you?”</p> - -<p>“What’s the matter?”</p> - -<p>“Why on earth have you smeared your face all -over with flour? You’re as white as chalk!”</p> - -<p>“Didn’t you come across the river?”</p> - -<p>“I did.”</p> - -<p>“And didn’t you look up?”</p> - -<p>“Perhaps.”</p> - -<p>“And didn’t you see some one?”</p> - -<p>“Who?”</p> - -<p>“Who? Fool! The creature that nabbed Yankel -the inn-keeper.”</p> - -<p>“Who the devil nabbed him?”</p> - -<p>“Who, indeed? Why, the Jewish devil, Khapun. -Don’t you know what day this has been?”</p> - -<p>Gavrilo looked at the miller with troubled eyes -and asked:</p> - -<p>“Have you been to the village this evening?”</p> - -<p>“Yes.”</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_236"></a>[236]</span>“Did you stop at the inn?”</p> - -<p>“Yes.”</p> - -<p>“Did you drink any gorelka?”</p> - -<p>“Bah, what’s the use of talking to a fool? I did -have some gorelka at the priest’s, but all the same I -have just seen with my own eyes the devil resting -on the dam with the Jew in his claws.”</p> - -<p>“Where?”</p> - -<p>“Right there, in the middle of the dam.”</p> - -<p>“And what happened next?”</p> - -<p>“Well, and then——” the miller whistled and -waved his hand in the air.</p> - -<p>Gavrilo stared at the dam, scratched his top-knot, -and looked up at the sky.</p> - -<p>“There’s a marvel for you! What’ll we do now? -How can we get along without the Jew?”</p> - -<p>“Why are you so anxious to have a Jew here, -hey?”</p> - -<p>“It isn’t only me. One can’t—oh, don’t argue -about it, master, things wouldn’t be the same without -a Jew; one couldn’t get along without one.”</p> - -<p>“Tut, tut! What a fool you are!”</p> - -<p>“What are you scolding me for? I don’t say I’m -clever, but I know millet from buckwheat. I work -in the mill, but I drink vodka at the tavern. Tell -me, as you’re so clever, who will be our inn-keeper -now?”</p> - -<p>“Who?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, who?”</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_237"></a>[237]</span>“Perhaps I will.”</p> - -<p>“You?”</p> - -<p>Gavrilo stared at the miller with his eyes starting -out of his head. Then he shook his head, clicked -his tongue, and said:</p> - -<p>“So, that’s your idea!”</p> - -<p>The miller now noticed for the first time that -Gavrilo was very uncertain on his legs and that the -lads had given him another black eye. To tell the -truth, the fellow looked so ugly and pale that you -wanted to spit at the sight of him. He was a great -hand with the girls, and the lads had more than -once fallen upon him. Whenever they caught him -they were sure to beat him almost to death. Of -course it was no wonder they beat him; the wonder -was there was ever anything for which to do it!</p> - -<p>“There is no face in the world so ugly but some -girl will fall in love with it,” thought the miller. -“But they love him by threes and fours and dozens. -Ugh! You scarecrow!”</p> - -<p>“Come, Gavrilo, boy,” he nevertheless said in a -coaxing voice, “come and sleep with me. When a -man has seen what I have he feels a bit nervous.”</p> - -<p>“All right, it’s all the same to me.”</p> - -<p>A minute later a certain workman was whistling -through his nose. And let me tell you, I spent the -night at the mill once myself, and I have never heard -any one whistle through his nose as Gavrilo did. If -a man didn’t like it he had better not spend the night<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_238"></a>[238]</span> -in the same house with him or he wouldn’t sleep a -wink.</p> - -<p>“Gavrilo!” said the miller. “Hey, Gavrilo!”</p> - -<p>“Well, then, what is it? If I couldn’t sleep myself -at least I wouldn’t keep others awake!”</p> - -<p>“Did they beat you again?”</p> - -<p>“What if they did?”</p> - -<p>“Where have you been?”</p> - -<p>“You want to know everything, don’t you? In -Konda.”</p> - -<p>“In Konda? Why did you go there?”</p> - -<p>“Because! What else do you want to know? Hee, -hee, hee!”</p> - -<p>“Aren’t there girls enough for you in Novokamensk?”</p> - -<p>“Bah! It makes me sick to look at them. There -isn’t one there that suits me.”</p> - -<p>“What about Galya, the widow’s daughter?”</p> - -<p>“Galya? What do I care about Galya?”</p> - -<p>“What, have you been courting her?”</p> - -<p>“Of course I have; what do you think?”</p> - -<p>The miller flounced over in bed.</p> - -<p>“You’re lying, you hound; a plague seize your -mother!”</p> - -<p>“I’m not lying and I never lie. I leave that to -cleverer men than I am.”</p> - -<p>Gavrilo yawned and said in a sleepy voice:</p> - -<p>“Do you remember, master, how my right eye<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_239"></a>[239]</span> -was so swelled up for a week that you couldn’t even -see it?”</p> - -<p>“Well?”</p> - -<p>“That devil’s child entertained me by doing that. -Confound her, say I! Galya, indeed!”</p> - -<p>“So that’s how things are, is it?” thought the -miller. “Gavrilo! Hey, Gavrilo! Oh, the hound, -he’s snoring again—Gavrilo!”</p> - -<p>“What <i>do</i> you want? Have you gone crazy?”</p> - -<p>“Do you want to get married?”</p> - -<p>“I haven’t made my boots yet. When I’ve made -my boots I’ll think about it.”</p> - -<p>“But I’d give you boots, and tar for them, and a -hat and a belt.”</p> - -<p>“Would you? And I’ll tell you something better -still.”</p> - -<p>“What?”</p> - -<p>“That the cocks are already crowing in the village. -Can’t you hear them going it?”</p> - -<p>It was true. In the village, perhaps at Galya’s -cottage, a shrill-voiced cock was splitting his throat -shouting “cock-a-doodle-doo!”</p> - -<p>“Cock-a-doodle-doo!” answered other voices from -far and near like water boiling in a kettle, and all -the cracks in the wall of the little room began to -gleam white, even down to the tiniest chink.</p> - -<p>The miller yawned blissfully.</p> - -<p>“Ah, now they are far away!” he thought. “How -funny it was! He flew all the way from the city to my<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_240"></a>[240]</span> -mill while the clock was striking twelve. Ha, ha, -and so Yankel has gone! What a joke! Why, if I -should tell it to any one, they’d call me a liar. But -why should I lie? They’ll find it out for themselves -to-morrow. Perhaps I’d better not mention it at all. -They would say I ought to have—but what’s the use -of arguing about it? If I had killed the Jew myself, -or anything like that, I should have been responsible -for what happened, but as it is, it doesn’t concern me -at all. What need had I to interfere? Let sleeping -dogs lie, say I. A shut mouth plays safe. They -won’t hear anything from me.”</p> - -<p>So Philip the miller reasoned with himself, and -tried to ease his conscience a little. It was only as -he was on the verge of falling asleep that a thought -crept out of some recess of his brain like a toad -out of a hole, and that thought was:</p> - -<p>“Now, Philip, now’s your time!”</p> - -<p>This thought chased all the others out of his mind -and took possession of it.</p> - -<p>With it he went to sleep.</p> - - -<h3>VI</h3> - -<p>Early next morning, while the dew is still glittering -on the grass, behold the miller dressed and on his -way to the village. He found the people there buzzing -like bees in a hive.</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_241"></a>[241]</span>“Hey! Have you heard the news?” they cried. -“Only a pair of shoes came back from the city last -night instead of the inn-keeper.”</p> - -<p>It was the talk of the village that morning, and -the amount of gossip was sinful!</p> - -<p>When Yankel’s widow had a pair of shoes returned -to her instead of her husband, she lost her -head entirely and didn’t know what in the world -to do. To make matters worse, Yankel had wisely -taken all his bonds to town with him, never dreaming -that Khapun would get him that night. How could -the poor Jew guess that out of the whole Hebrew congregation -the devil would happen to choose him?</p> - -<p>“That’s the way people always are, they never -know, they never feel when trouble like, for instance, -Khapun is hanging over their heads.”</p> - -<p>So spoke the village folk, shaking their heads as -they left the inn where the young Jewess and her -children were tearing their clothes and beating their -foreheads on the floor. And at the same time each -man thought to himself:</p> - -<p>“Well, anyhow, the bond I gave him has gone to -the devil!”</p> - -<p>To tell you the truth, there were very few in the -village whose consciences whispered to them:</p> - -<p>“It wouldn’t be a bad idea to return the principal -to the Jews, even if we kept the interest.”</p> - -<p>And the fact is no one gave up so much as one -crooked penny.</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_242"></a>[242]</span>The miller did not pay anything either, but then -he thought he was different.</p> - -<p>The widow Yankel begged and implored the townsfolk -to help her, and even made her children throw -themselves at their feet, beseeching them to let her -have fifty, or even twenty, copecks on every rouble -so that she shouldn’t starve, and might somehow -manage to take her little orphans to the city. And -more than one kind-hearted man was so moved that -the tears trickled down his whiskers, and more than -one nudged his neighbour and said:</p> - -<p>“Haven’t you any fear of God in you, neighbour? -Didn’t you owe the Jew money? Why don’t -you pay her? Upon my word, you ought to, even -if it’s only a little.”</p> - -<p>But the neighbour would only scratch his top-knot -under his hat and answer:</p> - -<p>“Why should I pay him, when with my own hands -I took him every penny I owed him the day he went -to the city? Would you have me to pay twice? Now -with you, neighbour, it’s different!”</p> - -<p>“Why is it different with me when I did exactly -what you did? Yankel came to me just before he -went away and begged me to pay him, and I did.”</p> - -<p>The miller listened to all this, and his heart ached -to hear it.</p> - -<p>“What a bad lot they are!” he thought. “Goodness -knows, they’re a bad lot! There’s absolutely no -fear of God in their hearts. I see from this that<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_243"></a>[243]</span> -they’ll never pay me unless they’re driven to do it. -So, gentlemen, I must take care or I shall get robbed; -only a born fool would put his finger in the mouth -of any one of you! No, you needn’t expect that -of me! I’m not going to make a fool of myself. -You’ll not spit in my porridge. If anything, I’ll -spit in yours.”</p> - -<p>Old Prisia alone took the Jewess two dozen eggs -and a piece of cloth, and paid the inn-keeper’s -widow as many copecks as she owed her.</p> - -<p>“Take them, dearie, in God’s name,” said she. -“If I owe you a little more I’ll bring it here as God -sends it to me. I have brought you all I have now.”</p> - -<p>“There’s a crafty old woman for you!” the miller -again commented angrily. “She wouldn’t pay me -a thing yesterday and yet she is able to pay the -Jewess. How wicked these people are! One can’t -even trust the old women. She says she can’t pay a -good Christian like me and then goes and hands over -all her money to a nasty Jewess. Wait a bit, old -woman, I’ll get even with you some day!”</p> - -<p>Well, Yankel’s widow gathered her children about -her, and sold the inn and the stock of vodka for a -song; but there wasn’t much vodka left, for Yankel -had meant to bring back a cask from the city, and -people said, too, that Kharko had filched a cask or -two from what had remained. So she took what she -could get and left Novokamensk on foot with her children. -Two she carried in her arms, a third toddled<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_244"></a>[244]</span> -at her side holding on to her skirt, and the two -eldest skipped on ahead.</p> - -<p>And again the villagers scratched their heads, -while those who had a conscience thought: “If only -I could give the Jewess a wagon for the money I owe -her perhaps I’d feel easier.”</p> - -<p>But, you see, each man was afraid that the others -would guess he hadn’t squared his account with the -Jew.</p> - -<p>And the miller thought again:</p> - -<p>“Oh, what wicked people! Now I know how gladly -they’d hustle me out of the way if I should ever -stumble or come a cropper.”</p> - -<p>So the poor widow crawled away to the city, and -heaven only knows what became of her there. Maybe -she and the children found something to do; maybe -they all died of hunger. Everything is possible. But -as a matter of fact, Jews are tenacious creatures. -They may live badly, but they manage to stay alive.</p> - -<p>Then the people began to ask themselves who -would be the next inn-keeper in Novokamensk. For -though Yankel had gone and the women and children -of the inn had wandered away into the wide -world, the tavern still stood on its hill, and on its -doors were still depicted in white paint a quart -measure and a tin mug. And everything else was -there in its proper place.</p> - -<p>Even Kharko still sat on the hill smoking his long<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_245"></a>[245]</span> -pipe and waiting to see whom God would send him -for a master.</p> - -<p>One evening though, when the village folk were -standing in front of the empty tavern and wondering -who would be their next inn-keeper, the priest -came up, and bowing deeply—for the mayor was -there, and as he is a great man it is no sin even for -a priest to bow to him—began to say what a good -thing it would be if a meeting could be arranged -to close up the tavern for good and all. He, the -priest, would write a letter with his own hand and -send it to the bishop. And this would be a splendid, -beautiful thing, and beneficial to the whole village.</p> - -<p>The old men and the women answered that what -the priest had said was the honest truth, but the -miller thought the priest’s idea absolutely worthless -and even insulting.</p> - -<p>“What a wicked priest!” he thought with indignation. -“There’s a friend for you! Just you wait -a bit, though, holy Father, you’ll see what’ll happen.”</p> - -<p>“You are quite right, Father,” he answered in oily -tones, “your letter will do a great deal of good, -only I don’t know whom it will help most, you or -the village. You know yourself—don’t take it ill—that -you always send to the city for vodka and so -you don’t need the tavern. It would be very nice -for you to have the bishop read your letter and praise -it.”</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_246"></a>[246]</span>The people shouted with laughter, but the priest -only spat in a great huff, clapped his straw hat on -his head, and walked away down the street as if nothing -had happened and he was simply taking an evening -stroll.</p> - -<p>Need I tell you more? You must surely have -guessed already that the miller had made up his -mind to be the keeper of the Jewish tavern. And -having made up his mind he talked very agreeably -to the mayor, entertained whichever members of -the County Court he thought advisable, and reasoned -very cleverly with the captain of police and with the -head of the District, as well as with the judge, the -treasurer, and finally with the commissioner of rural -police and the customs inspector.</p> - -<p>On his way back from the village after all these -exertions the miller passed the inn. There was Kharko, -sitting on the hill smoking his pipe. The miller -only nodded to him, but Kharko—although he was -a proud fellow—jumped up at once and ran toward -him.</p> - -<p>“Well, what have you got to say?” asked the -miller.</p> - -<p>“What should I have to say? I am waiting for -you to tell me something.”</p> - -<p>“Well, well.”</p> - -<p>Kharko didn’t want to nail the miller down with -words yet, so he listened to what the miller said,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_247"></a>[247]</span> -pulled off his cap with both hands, and wisely answered:</p> - -<p>“I shall be very glad to do all I can for my kind -master.”</p> - -<p>So the miller took possession of the inn and lorded -it in Novokamensk better than Yankel had done. He -put his roubles out to pasture among the people, -and when the time came he drove them and their -increase back into his chest. And no one there was -to get in his way.</p> - -<p>And if it was true that more than one person wept -bitter tears because of him—why there is no room -for truth in this world. And many did weep; whether -more than had wept when Yankel kept the inn or -fewer, I cannot attempt to say. Who can take the -measure of human grief and who can count human -tears?</p> - -<p>Ah, no one has ever measured the grief and no -one has ever counted the tears of the world, but the -old folks say, “walking or riding, trouble’s always in -hiding”; and that “the back doesn’t laugh at a stick -or a staff.” I don’t know how true that is, but it -seems true to me.</p> - - -<h3>VII</h3> - -<p>I must admit I didn’t mean to tell you all this -about my friend, but it’s too late to take it back -now. I’ve begun the story and I shall go on to<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_248"></a>[248]</span> -the end. A song’s not a song, they say, if a word is -missing. And after all, if the miller doesn’t hide anything, -why should I?</p> - -<p>You see, the state of affairs was this. All old -Yankel had ever wanted had been human money. -If he heard with one corner of his ear that some -one had a rouble or two loose in his pocket his -heart would give him a little prod and he would -immediately think of some way in which he could -pull up that rouble and put it to work for him, as one -might pull a fish out of somebody else’s pond. If he -succeeded, he and his Sarah would rejoice over their -good fortune.</p> - -<p>But that wasn’t enough for the miller. Yankel -had always grovelled before every one, but the miller -held his head as high as a turkey cock. Yankel -had always slipped up to the back door of the District -policeman’s house and stood timidly on the -threshold, but the miller swaggered all over the front -steps as if he were at home there. Yankel never -took it hard if he got his ears boxed by some -drunken fellow. He howled a bit and then stopped, -perhaps squeezing a few extra copecks out of his tormentor -one day or another to make up for it. But -if the miller ever got hold of a peasant’s top-knot it -would probably stay in his hands, and his eyes would -flash like the sparks from a blacksmith’s hammer. -With the miller it was: pay up both money and respect! -And he got them both, there’s no use denying<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_249"></a>[249]</span> -it. The people bowed low before their icons, but they -bowed lower before my friend.</p> - -<p>And yet he never could get enough. He went about -as surly and angry as if a puppy were worrying -his heart, thinking to himself all the time:</p> - -<p>“Everything is wrong in this world, everything is -wrong! Somehow money doesn’t make a man as -happy as it ought to.”</p> - -<p>Kharko once asked him:</p> - -<p>“Why do you go about looking as cross as if some -one had thrown a bucket of slops over you, master? -What does my master want?”</p> - -<p>“Perhaps if I got married I should be happier.”</p> - -<p>“Then go ahead and get married.”</p> - -<p>“That’s just the trouble. How can I get married -when the thing’s impossible no matter how I tackle -it? I’ll tell you the truth: I fell in love with Galya, -the widow’s daughter, before I ever came to be a -miller and while I was still a workman at the mill. -If my uncle hadn’t got drowned I should be married -to her to-day. But now you see yourself that she is -below me.”</p> - -<p>“Of course, she is below you! All you can do now -is to marry rich old Makogon’s daughter Motria.”</p> - -<p>“There you are! I can see for myself and every -one says that my money and old Makogon’s would -just match, but there you are again—the girl is so -ugly. She sits all day like a great bale of hay everlastingly -hulling seeds. Every time I look at her I<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_250"></a>[250]</span> -feel as if some one had got me by the nose and were -pulling me away from her. How different Galya is! -That’s why I say everything is wrong in this world. -If a man loves one girl the other one’s sure to have -the money. I shall certainly shrivel up some day like -a blade of grass. I loathe the world.”</p> - -<p>The soldier took his pipe out of his mouth, spat, -and said:</p> - -<p>“That’s bad! Any one but me would never have -thought of a way out of it, but I’m going to give -you some advice that you’ll not be sorry if you take. -Will you give me the pair of new boots that Opanas -left in pawn if I tell you what to do?”</p> - -<p>“I wouldn’t begrudge you a pair of boots for -your advice, but have you thought of something -that really will help me?”</p> - -<p>Well, it turned out that that wicked soldier had -thought of a plan which, if it had gone through a -little bit sooner, would certainly have sent the miller -straight to the devil in hell and I should never have -been telling you this story.</p> - -<p>“Very well, then, listen carefully to me,” Kharko -said. “Plainly, there are three of you, one man and -two girls. And plainly one man can’t possibly marry -them both unless he’s a Turk.”</p> - -<p>“How right the wretch is!” thought the miller. -“What’s coming next?”</p> - -<p>“Good! Now as you are a rich man and Motria<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_251"></a>[251]</span> -is a rich girl, and baby can see who ought to marry -who. Send the match-makers to old Makogon.”</p> - -<p>“That’s all very well! I knew that without being -told. But what about Galya?”</p> - -<p>“Do you want to hear to the end? Or do you -yourself know what I’m going to say?”</p> - -<p>“Come, come, don’t get cross!”</p> - -<p>“You make every one cross. I’m not the man to -begin saying something and then stop before I’ve -finished. Now, to come to Galya. Used she to love -you?”</p> - -<p>“I should say she did!”</p> - -<p>“And what were you when she loved you?”</p> - -<p>“A workman in the mill.”</p> - -<p>“Then a baby could understand that too. If the -girl loved a workman once, let her marry a workman -now.”</p> - -<p>The miller’s eyes grew as round as saucers and -his head began to go round like a mill-wheel.</p> - -<p>“But I’m not a workman any longer!”</p> - -<p>“How dreadful! And isn’t there a workman at -the mill?”</p> - -<p>“You mean Gavrilo? So that’s your idea, is it? -Very well, let him give you a pair of boots for it! -Neither he nor his uncle nor his aunts will ever see -me stand that arrangement, I can tell you! I’d -sooner go and break every bone in his body.”</p> - -<p>“Gracious, what a hot-tempered fellow you are; -hot enough to boil an egg! I was going to tell you<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_252"></a>[252]</span> -something entirely different when you boiled over -like this.”</p> - -<p>“What can you tell me now seeing that that little -joke didn’t please me?”</p> - -<p>“Just listen.”</p> - -<p>Kharko took his pipe out of his mouth, winked, -and clicked his tongue so sympathetically the miller -felt better at once.</p> - -<p>“And you—did you love her though she was -poor?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, indeed I did!”</p> - -<p>“Well, then, go on loving her to your heart’s content -after she has married the workman. And this -is the end of my speech. You three will live at the -mill together and the fourth fool won’t count. Aha! -Now you know whether I have brought you honey -or gall, don’t you? Yes indeed! Kharko’s head -is all right because he was always licked on the -back. That’s why he’s such a clever fellow and -knows who will get the kernel of the nut, who will -get the shell, and who will get the pair of boots.”</p> - -<p>“But what if your plan shouldn’t work?”</p> - -<p>“Why shouldn’t it work?”</p> - -<p>“For lots of reasons. Perhaps old Makogon won’t -consent.”</p> - -<p>“Bah! Let me talk to him.”</p> - -<p>“Well, what would you say?”</p> - -<p>“I’ll tell you. I’d be on my way from the city with -a load of vodka. He’d be coming toward me. We’d<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_253"></a>[253]</span> -talk a while and then I’d say: I’ve found a husband -for your daughter; it’s our miller.”</p> - -<p>“And what would he say?”</p> - -<p>“He’d say: ‘Well I never! Your grandmother -never expected that! How much is he worth?’”</p> - -<p>“And what would you answer?”</p> - -<p>“I’d answer: Of course my grandmother never expected -it because she died long ago, God rest her -soul! So you don’t know, I see, that the devil has -carried away our Jew?”</p> - -<p>“‘Then that’s altogether different,’ he’d say. ‘If -there’s no Jew in the village the miller will be a substantial -man.’”</p> - -<p>“All right, supposing Makogon gives his consent, -will Galya marry the workman?”</p> - -<p>“If you drive the girl and her mother out of their -khata she will be glad to live at the mill.”</p> - -<p>“I see—well, well——”</p> - - -<h3>VIII</h3> - -<p>The miller scratched his head in perplexity, and -things went on like that, you must know, not only -for a day but for almost a year. The miller had -hardly had time to look about him before St. Philip’s -day had come and gone, and Easter, and Spring, and -Summer. Then once again he found himself standing -at the door of the tavern, with Kharko leaning<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_254"></a>[254]</span> -against the door post beside him. The moon was -shining exactly as it had shone one year before, -the river was sparkling as it had sparkled then, the -street was just as white, and the same black shadow -was lying on the silver ground beside the miller. -And something flashed across his memory.</p> - -<p>“Listen to me, Kharko!”</p> - -<p>“What do you want?”</p> - -<p>“What day of the week is it?”</p> - -<p>“Monday.”</p> - -<p>“It was Saturday last year, do you remember?”</p> - -<p>“Saturdays are as thick as flies.”</p> - -<p>“I mean the Day of Atonement one year ago.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, that’s what you’re thinking of! Yes, it was -Saturday last year.”</p> - -<p>“When will the Day of Atonement be this year?”</p> - -<p>“I can’t say when it will be. There’s no Jew near -here now, so I don’t know.”</p> - -<p>“Look at the sky. It’s clear and bright, just as -it was that night.”</p> - -<p>And the miller glanced in terror at the window -of the Jewish hut, afraid of seeing again those -Hebrew children nodding their heads and humming -their prayers for their daddy whom Khapun was -carrying away over the hills and dales.</p> - -<p>But no! All that was over. Probably not a -bone was left of Yankel by now; his orphans had -wandered away into the wide world, and their hut<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_255"></a>[255]</span> -was as dark as a tomb. The miller’s heart was as -full of darkness as the deserted Jewish khata.</p> - -<p>“I didn’t save the Jew,” he thought. “It was I -who made his children orphans, and now what dreadful -things am I plotting against the widow’s daughter?”</p> - -<p>“Would it be right for us to do it?” he asked of -Kharko.</p> - -<p>“Why not? Of course there are some people who -won’t eat honey. Perhaps you are one of them.”</p> - -<p>“No, I’m not one of them, but still—well, good-bye!”</p> - -<p>“Good-bye!”</p> - -<p>The miller started down the hill, and once more -Kharko whistled after him. Although he did not -whistle as insultingly as he had the year before, it -flicked the miller on the raw.</p> - -<p>“What do you mean by whistling, you rascal?” -he asked, turning round.</p> - -<p>“What, mayn’t a man even whistle?” Kharko retorted -crossly. “I used to whistle when I was orderly -to the Captain, and yet I mayn’t do it here!”</p> - -<p>“After all, why shouldn’t he whistle?” the miller -thought. “Only why does everything happen just -as it did that evening?”</p> - -<p>So he walked away down the hill and Kharko -went on whistling, only more softly. The miller -passed the garden where the cherry trees grew, and -once more what seemed to be two great birds rose out<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_256"></a>[256]</span> -of the grass. Once more a tall hat and a girl’s white -blouse gleamed in the darkness and some one gave a -smack that resounded through the bushes. Ugh, out -upon you! But this time the miller did not stop to -scold the shameless youngster; he was afraid he -might get the very same answer he had had the year -before. So our Philip went his way quietly toward -the widow’s cottage.</p> - -<p>There stood the little khata shimmering under the -moon; the tiny window was winking, and the tall -poplar seemed to be bathing in the moonlight. The -miller stopped at the stile, scratched his head under -his hat, and again threw his leg across the hedge.</p> - -<p>“Knock—knock!”</p> - -<p>“Okh, there is sure to be a fuss as there was last -time, only worse,” thought the miller. “That infernal -Kharko with his infernal talk told me just what -to say, but now, when I remember what he told me, -it doesn’t somehow seem right. It doesn’t sound -common sense. But what will be, will be!” and he -knocked again.</p> - -<p>A pale face and a pair of black eyes gleamed for -an instant at the window.</p> - -<p>“Mother, mother mine!” whispered Galya. “Here’s -that wicked miller again standing at the window -and tapping on the pane.”</p> - -<p>“Ah, she doesn’t lean out to put her arms around -me and kiss me this time, even by mistake,” thought -the miller sadly.</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_257"></a>[257]</span>The girl came out softly and stood a long way -off with her arms folded on her white breast.</p> - -<p>“What do you mean by knocking again?”</p> - -<p>Alas, it is bitter for a man to hear such cold -words from the girl who has been his darling love! -The miller longed to embrace her girlish form and -show her why he had knocked. To tell you the truth, -he was already beginning to sidle toward her when -he remembered what Kharko had told him, and answered -instead:</p> - -<p>“Why should I not knock when you owe me so -much that you will never be able to pay me? Your -hut isn’t worth the debt.”</p> - -<p>“If you know we shall never pay you, don’t come -knocking at the window by night, you godless man! -You will drive my old mother into her grave.”</p> - -<p>“Who the devil is driving her into her grave, -Galya? If you only would let me, I would give -your mother a peaceful old age.”</p> - -<p>“You’re lying!”</p> - -<p>“No, I’m not lying! Oi, Galya, Galya! I can’t -live without loving you!”</p> - -<p>“You lie like a dog! Who was it sent the match-makers -to Makogon?”</p> - -<p>“Whether I sent them or not, I’ll tell you the -whole truth and swear to it if you like. I’m pining -and fading away without you. And I’m going to -tell you just what we’ll do, and if you’re a sensible -girl you’ll listen to me. But I make one condition:<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_258"></a>[258]</span> -listen with your ears and answer with your -tongue. No hand play this time! If there is, I’ll -be angry.”</p> - -<p>“You’ve a funny way of doing things,” said Galya, -folding her arms. “However, I’ll listen to you; but -I warn you, if you begin to talk nonsense don’t call -on your God to help you!”</p> - -<p>“It won’t be nonsense. You see—oh, how did -Kharko begin?”</p> - -<p>“Kharko? What has Kharko to do with you and -me?”</p> - -<p>“Oh, do be quiet or I won’t be able to get anything -straight. Listen to me: used you to love -me?”</p> - -<p>“Would I have kissed an ugly face like yours if -I hadn’t?”</p> - -<p>“And what was I then, a workman in the mill -or not?”</p> - -<p>“A workman, of course. I wish to goodness you -had never become a miller!”</p> - -<p>“Tut, tut, don’t talk so much or I’ll get mixed -up! So you see it is clear that you loved a workman -once and that therefore you ought to marry a -workman now and live at the mill. And I shall go -on loving you as I always have, even if I marry ten -Motrias.”</p> - -<p>Galya actually rubbed her eyes; she thought she -was dreaming.</p> - -<p>“What nonsense are you talking, man? Either<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_259"></a>[259]</span> -I’m absolutely crazy or else there’s a screw loose -in your head. How can I marry a workman now -that you are a miller? And how can you marry me -when you’re sending the match-makers to Motria? -What nonsense you’re talking, man! Cross yourself -with your left hand!”</p> - -<p>“What do you mean?” answered the miller. “Do -you think I haven’t a workman at the mill? What -about Gavrilo? Isn’t he one? He’s a little stupid, -I know, but that will be all the better for us, Galya, -my darling.”</p> - -<p>Only then did the girl at last understand what -the miller was driving at with his cunning talk. You -should have seen her throw up her arms and heard -her scream!</p> - -<p>“Oi, mother, dear mother, listen to what he is saying! -He wants to turn Turk and to keep two wives! -Fetch the pitchfork out of the cottage quick, while -I settle him with my hands!”</p> - -<p>So she fell upon the miller, and the miller fell -back. He escaped to the stile, put one foot upon -it, and said:</p> - -<p>“Oho! So that’s your game, little viper! Very -well then, quit this hut with your mother! To-morrow -I’ll take it for your debts. Away with -you!”</p> - -<p>But she shouted back:</p> - -<p>“Get out of my garden, you Turk, as long as -it’s mine! If you don’t I’ll scratch you with my<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_260"></a>[260]</span> -nails so that even your Motria won’t know where -your eyes and nose and mouth have been. Not only -will you not have two sweethearts, not one will -look at an eyeless creature like you.”</p> - -<p>What use to talk to her? The miller spat, jumped -quickly over the hedge, and left the village in a rage. -When he reached the crest of the hill from where -there came to him the murmuring of the stream -in the mill-race, he looked back and shook his fist.</p> - -<p>And at that moment he heard the sound of a bell: -ding, dong; ding, dong! Again Kadilo was ringing -the hour of midnight from the village belfry.</p> - - -<h3>IX</h3> - -<p>The miller reached his mill. It was all drenched -with dew; the moon was shining, the wood was shimmering, -and a bittern, that foul bird, was awake -and booming in the reeds, sleepless, as if it were waiting -for some one, as if it were calling up some one out -of the pond.</p> - -<p>Dread fell upon Philip the miller.</p> - -<p>“Hey! Gavrilo!” he shouted.</p> - -<p>“Oo-oo, oo-oo!” answered the bittern from the -marsh, but not a squeak came from the mill.</p> - -<p>“Oh, the confounded scapegrace! He’s run off -after the girls again.” So thought the miller, and -somehow did not feel like going alone into the empty<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_261"></a>[261]</span> -mill. Although he was used to it, he sometimes remembered -that not only fish but adders were to be -found swimming about among the piles in the dark -water under the floor.</p> - -<p>He looked in the direction of the city. The night -was warm and bright; a light mist was circling over -the river that flowed through the woods, lost in -the shimmering murk. There was not a cloud in -the sky.</p> - -<p>The miller looked behind him, and wondered -afresh at the depth of his pond that found room -in its bosom for the moon and the stars and the -whole of the dark blue sky.</p> - -<p>As he gazed at the pond, he saw in the water something -resembling a gnat flying across the stars. He -looked more closely, and saw the gnat grow to the -size of a fly, and the fly to a sparrow, and the sparrow -to a crow, and the crow to a hawk.</p> - -<p>“Well, I’ll be damned!” cried the miller, and, raising -his eyes, he saw something flying not through -the water but through the air, and making straight -for the mill.</p> - -<p>“The Lord preserve us! There’s Khapun again -hurrying to the city after his prey. Look at him, -the unholy brute, how late he is this time! It’s past -midnight already, and he’s just starting out.”</p> - -<p>While the miller was standing there staring up -at the sky, the cloud, which was now as large as an -eagle, circled over the mill and began to descend.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_262"></a>[262]</span> -Out of it came a humming sound like out of a huge -swarm of bees that has left its hive and is hovering -over a garden.</p> - -<p>“What! Is he going to rest on my dam again?” -thought the miller. “What a habit he makes of it -now! Wait a bit, mister! I’ll put up a cross there -next year, and then you won’t come stopping at my -dam on your journey like a gentleman at an inn. -But what is he making that noise for, like those -rattling kites children fly? I must hide under the -sycamores again, and see what he’s going to do -next.”</p> - -<p>But before he had had time to reach the trees, -the miller looked up and nearly shrieked aloud with -terror. He saw his guest hovering right over the -mill holding—what? You will never guess what the -devil held in his clutches.</p> - -<p>It was Yankel the Jew! Yes, he had brought back -the selfsame Yankel whom he had carried away the -year before. He was holding him tight by the back, -and in Yankel’s hands was a huge bundle tied up in -a sheet. The devil and Yankel were abusing one -another in the air, and making as much fuss as ten -Jews in a bazaar squabbling over one peasant.</p> - -<p>The devil dropped on to the dam like a stone. -If it hadn’t been for his soft bundle every bone in -Yankel’s body would certainly have been broken to -pieces. As soon as they touched the ground both<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_263"></a>[263]</span> -jumped to their feet and went at it again, hammer -and tongs.</p> - -<p>“Oi, oi! What a dirty, foul trick!” screamed -Yankel. “Couldn’t you have let me down more -gently? I suppose you knew you had a living man -in your claws?”</p> - -<p>“I wish you and your bundle had gone right -through the earth!”</p> - -<p>“Pooh! What harm does my little bundle do you? -You don’t have to carry it.”</p> - -<p>“Your <i>little</i> bundle indeed! A whole mountain of -trash! I have only just managed to drag you -back. Oo-ff! There was nothing about this in our -contract.”</p> - -<p>“But when has it ever been known that a man went -on a journey without any baggage? If you carry -a man you must carry his things too; that’s understood -without any contract. I see! You’ve been -trying to cheat poor Yankel the Jew from the very -start, and that’s why you’re quarrelling now!”</p> - -<p>“Huh! Any one who tried to cheat you, you old -fox, wouldn’t live three days! I’m precious sorry -I ever agreed to anything!”</p> - -<p>“And do you think I am perfectly delighted to -have made your acquaintance? Oi, vei! You’d better -tell me yourself what our contract was. But -you may have forgotten it, so I’ll remind you. We -made a bet. Perhaps you will say we didn’t make -a bet? That would be a nice trick!”</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_264"></a>[264]</span>“Who said we didn’t make a bet? Did I say we -didn’t?”</p> - -<p>“And how could you say we didn’t, when we made it -right here in this very place? Perhaps you don’t -remember what the bet was, as I do. You said: Jews -are usurers, Jews sell the people vodka, Jews have -pity on their own people but on no one else; that’s -why every one wishes them to the devil. Of course, -perhaps you didn’t say that, and perhaps I didn’t -say in answer: there stands a miller behind that -very sycamore tree who, if he had any pity for -Jews, would shout to you now and say: ‘Drop him, -Mr. Devil; he has a wife, he has children!’ But he -won’t do it. That was number one!”</p> - -<p>“How could the wretch have guessed that?” -thought the miller; but the devil said:</p> - -<p>“Very well; number one!”</p> - -<p>“And then I said—don’t you remember?—I said: -as soon as I’ve gone the miller will open a tavern -and will begin selling diluted vodka. He lends money -already at a fine rate of interest. That was number -two!”</p> - -<p>“All right; number two!” the devil agreed, but -the miller scratched his head and thought:</p> - -<p>“How could the infernal brute have guessed all -that?”</p> - -<p>“And I went on to say that, as a matter of fact, -Christians did wish us to the devil. But do you -think, said I, that if one of us Jews were here now<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_265"></a>[265]</span> -and saw what you want to do to me he wouldn’t -raise a fine riot? But every one you ask will say of -the miller in a year: the devil fly away with him! -That was number three!”</p> - -<p>“All right; number three. I don’t deny it.”</p> - -<p>“And a fine business it would be if you did deny -it! What sort of an honest Hebrew devil would -you be after that? Tell me now what you agreed -to do on your part.”</p> - -<p>“I have done all I agreed. I have left you alive -for a year; number one. I have brought you back -here; number two——”</p> - -<p>“And what about number three? What are you -going to do about that?”</p> - -<p>“What do you think I’m going to do? If you -win the bet I’ll let you go scot free.”</p> - -<p>“And my losses? Don’t you know that you owe -me for my losses?”</p> - -<p>“Losses? What losses can you have had when -we allowed you to do business with us for a -whole year without paying a license? You wouldn’t -have made as much profit in three years on earth. -Just think for yourself: I carried you off in your -shirt without even a pair of shoes to your feet, and -look what a big bundle you’ve brought back! Where -did you get it from if you made nothing but losses?”</p> - -<p>“Oi, vei! There you are scolding me about my -bundle again! Whatever I made there by trading -is my own business. Did you count my profits?<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_266"></a>[266]</span> -I tell you I made nothing but losses out of my -dealings with you, besides losing a year here on -earth.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, you swindler you!” shouted the devil.</p> - -<p>“I a swindler? No, you’re a swindler yourself, you -thief, you liar, you scab!”</p> - -<p>And they began again to wrangle so violently -that their words became quite unintelligible. -They waved their arms, their skull-caps quivered, -and they stood up on tip-toe like two cocks preparing -to fight. The devil was the first to regain -control of himself.</p> - -<p>“But we don’t yet know who has won the bet! It -is true that the miller didn’t take pity on you, but -we haven’t decided the other points yet. We haven’t -asked the people whether he opened a tavern or not.”</p> - -<p>“I have opened two!” the miller thought, scratching -his head again. “Oh, why didn’t I wait a year? -Then Yankel would have been sent to the devil for -good, but now something disagreeable may come of -it.”</p> - -<p>He looked round at his mill. Couldn’t he possibly -slip away to the village by crawling behind -it? But just as he was contemplating this move, -the sound of muttering and of uncertain footsteps -came to his ears from the wood. Yankel threw -his bundle over his shoulder, and ran to the very -sycamore tree where the miller was hiding. The -miller hardly had time to slip behind a big willow<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_267"></a>[267]</span> -tree before the devil and Yankel were both under -the sycamore, and at that moment Gavrilo appeared -at the far end of the dam. Gavrilo’s coat was in -tatters and was hanging off one shoulder; his hat -was on one side of his head, and his bare feet were -continually quarrelling with one another. If one -wanted to go to the right, the other, out of contrariness, -tried to go to the left. One pulled one -way and the other the other, until the poor man’s -head and feet nearly flew off in opposite directions. -So the poor lad staggered along, weaving patterns -all across the dam from one side to the other, but -not progressing forward very fast.</p> - -<p>The devil saw that Gavrilo was full, so he came -out and stood in the middle of the dam just as he -was. Why the devil need any one stand on ceremony -with a drunkard?</p> - -<p>“Good evening, good fellow!” he called. “Where -did you get so full?”</p> - -<p>As he said this, the miller noticed for the first time -how miserable and ragged Gavrilo had grown during -the last year. And it was all because he drank -up at his master’s tavern everything that he earned -from his master. It was long since he had seen any -money; he took it all out in vodka.</p> - -<p>The workman walked right up to the devil, saying:</p> - -<p>“Whoa there! What has come over these devilish -feet of mine? When I want them to walk, they<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_268"></a>[268]</span> -stop; when they see any one standing under my very -nose, they rush on ahead. Who are you?”</p> - -<p>“With your permission, I am the devil.”</p> - -<p>“Wha-at? I believe you’re lying. Well, I never! -But perhaps you are right after all! There are your -horns and your tail, just as they ought to be. But -why do you wear ringlets hanging down your -cheeks?”</p> - -<p>“To tell you the truth, I’m the Hebrew devil.”</p> - -<p>“Aha! There’s a marvel for you! If I were to -tell people I had seen your honour no one would believe -me. Wasn’t it you who carried off our Yankel -last year?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, it was I.”</p> - -<p>“And whom are you after now? Not me? If -you are, I swear I’ll yell. Yes, I’ll yell like mad. -You don’t know what a voice I have.”</p> - -<p>“Come, don’t scream for nothing, good fellow. -What good would you be to me?”</p> - -<p>“Then perhaps it’s the miller you want? If you’d -like me to call him, I will. But no, wait a bit. Who -would be our inn-keeper if you took him away?”</p> - -<p>“Does he keep an inn?”</p> - -<p>“Does he? He keeps two: one in the village and -one by the side of the road.”</p> - -<p>“Ha! ha! ha! And is that why you would be -sorry to lose the miller?”</p> - -<p>“Oi, what a loud laugh you have! Ha! I’m not -the fellow to be sorry on the miller’s account. No, I<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_269"></a>[269]</span> -didn’t mean that at all. He’s not a man to be sorry -for. He thinks poor Gavrilo’s a fool. And he’s -right too. I’m not very clever—don’t think ill of -me for it—but still, when I eat I don’t put my porridge -in another man’s mouth, but into my own. And -if I get married it will be for myself, and if I don’t -get married it will be for myself too. Am I right or -not?”</p> - -<p>“You’re right, you’re right, but I don’t yet know -what you’re driving at.”</p> - -<p>“Hee, hee, perhaps you don’t know because you -don’t need to. But I need to know, and I do know -why he wants to get me married. Oi, I know it very -well, even though I’m not very bright. When you -carried Yankel away that time I was sorry to see him -go, and I said to my master: Well, who is going -to keep the inn for us now? And he answered: -Bah, you fool, do you think some one won’t turn up? -Perhaps I’ll keep it myself! That’s why I say -now: take the miller if you want him; we’ll find -some one else to be a Jew in his place. And now -let me tell you, my good man—good gracious, your -honour, don’t think ill of me for calling a foul fiend -a man!—and now let me tell you something: I’m getting -terribly sleepy. Do as you please, but catch -him yourself; I’m going to bed, I am, because I’m not -very well. That will be splendid. Ah!”</p> - -<p>Gavrilo’s legs began weaving again, and he had<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_270"></a>[270]</span> -hardly opened the door of the mill before he fell -down and began to snore.</p> - -<p>The devil laughed merrily, and, going to the edge -of the dam, beckoned to Yankel where he stood under -the sycamore tree.</p> - -<p>“You seem to have won, Yankel,” he shouted. “It -looks very much like it. But give me something to -wear, all the same; I’ll pay you for it.”</p> - -<p>Yankel took a pair of breeches to the light and -looked them over to be sure he wasn’t giving the -devil a new pair, and while he was busy with them, -an ox-cart appeared on the road leading out of -the wood. The oxen were sleepily nodding their -heads, the wheels were quietly squeaking, and in the -cart lay a peasant, Opanas the Slow, without a coat, -without a hat, without boots, bawling a song at the -top of his voice.</p> - -<p>Opanas was a good peasant, but the poor fellow -sorely loved vodka. Whenever he dressed up to go -anywhere Kharko would be sure to call to him from -his look-out at the inn-door:</p> - -<p>“Won’t you drink a little mugful, Opanas? What’s -your hurry?”</p> - -<p>And Opanas would drink it.</p> - -<p>Then, when he had crossed the dam and reached -the village, the miller himself would call to him from -the door of the other tavern:</p> - -<p>“Won’t you come in and have a little mugful, -Opanas? What’s the hurry?”</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_271"></a>[271]</span>And Opanas would have another drink there. -First thing you knew he would turn home without -having been anywhere else at all.</p> - -<p>Yes, he was a good peasant, but fate had ordained -him always to fall between the two taverns. And yet -he was a merry fellow and was always singing -songs. That is man’s nature. When he has drunk -up everything he possesses and knows that an angry -wife is waiting for him at home, he will make up a -song and think he has got rid of his troubles. -And so it was with Opanas. He was lying in his -wagon singing so loudly that even the frogs jumped -into the water as he drove up, and this was his song:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="first">“Oxen, oxen, how you crawl,</div> -<div class="verse">Walking down the road;</div> -<div class="verse">If I stood up, I should fall,</div> -<div class="verse">Oi, I’d surely fall.</div> -<div class="verse">I’ve drunk up my coat and hat,</div> -<div class="verse">The boots from off my feet;</div> -<div class="verse">In the inn, I’ll swear to that,</div> -<div class="verse">The miller’s vodka’s sweet.</div> -</div></div> - -<p>“Oi, what is that devilish brute standing right in -the middle of the dam for, keeping my oxen from -crossing? If I wasn’t too tired to get out of the -cart, I’d show him how to plant himself there in the -middle of the road. Gee, gee, gee-up!”</p> - -<p>“Stop a minute, my good man!” said the devil -very sweetly. “I want to have a minute’s talk with -you.”</p> - -<p>“A minute’s talk? All right then, talk away, only<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_272"></a>[272]</span> -I’m in a hurry. The tavern at Novokamensk will -soon be closed so that no one can get in. But I -don’t know what you want to talk about; I don’t -know you. Well?”</p> - -<p>“About whom were you singing that pretty song?”</p> - -<p>“Thank you for praising it! I was singing about -the miller that lives in this mill, but whether the -song was pretty or not is my own affair, because I -was singing it to myself. Perhaps some people -would fly when they heard the song, perhaps some -would cry. Gee, gee, gee-up! What! Are you still -standing there?”</p> - -<p>“I’m still standing here.”</p> - -<p>“What for?”</p> - -<p>“You said in your song that the miller’s vodka is -good. Is that so?”</p> - -<p>“Aha, now I see how sly you are! You begin -quarrelling with a man’s song before he has sung -it to the end. That’s the devil’s own trick! You -don’t know the proverb, I see: don’t go to hell before -your father; if you do, you’ll be sorry. If that’s -how you feel, I’d better sing my song to the end, so -here goes:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="verse">Yes, the vodka in the inn</div> -<div class="verse">Is good as any sold;</div> -<div class="verse">Two parts of it are liquor,</div> -<div class="verse">One is water cold.</div> -</div></div> - -<p>“Get out of the way, then! What are you standing -there for? What do you want now? Wait a<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_273"></a>[273]</span> -minute till I get out of my wagon and find out -whether you’re going to stand there much longer! -What would you think if I gave you a taste of my -stick, hey?”</p> - -<p>“I’m going in a minute, my good man, only tell me -one thing more. What would you think if the devil -flew away with your miller here as he flew away with -Yankel?”</p> - -<p>“What would I think? I wouldn’t think anything -at all. He’ll get him some day, that’s certain; he’ll -surely get him. But you’re still standing there, I -see. Take care, I’m climbing out of my wagon! -Look, I’ve already raised one leg!”</p> - -<p>“All right, all right, go along with you if you’re -as cross as all that!”</p> - -<p>“Are you out of the way?”</p> - -<p>“Yes.”</p> - -<p>“Gee, gee, gee-up!”</p> - -<p>The oxen shook their horns, the yoke and axles -creaked, the wagon trembled, and Opanas continued -his song:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="first">“Oxen, oxen, how you crawl,</div> -<div class="verse">Hurry up and trot.</div> -<div class="verse">The miller has my coat and wheels,</div> -<div class="verse">So now he has the lot.”</div> -</div></div> - -<p>The wheels bumped down off the dam, and Opanas’ -song died away behind the hill.</p> - -<p>But before it had quite died away another song -rang out from across the river. A ringing chorus of<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_274"></a>[274]</span> -women’s voices came streaming through the night, -first from afar, and then from in the wood. A party -of women and girls, who had been gathering in the -harvest on a distant farm, were now on their way -home late at night, and were singing to give themselves -courage in the wood.</p> - -<p>The devil at once slipped to Yankel’s side under the -willow tree.</p> - -<p>“Come, give me something more to wear, quick!”</p> - -<p>Yankel handed him a heap of rags. The devil -hurled them to the ground, and seized the bundle.</p> - -<p>“Here! What do you mean by giving me these -rags as if I were a beggar? I’d be ashamed to be -seen in them. Give me something respectable!”</p> - -<p>The devil seized what he wanted, folded his wings, -which were as soft as a bat’s, in a second, jumped -like a flash into a pair of blue breeches as wide as -the sea, threw on the rest of his clothes, drew his -belt tight, and covered his horns with a high fur -hat. Only his tail hung out over the top of one -boot, and trailed along in the sand like a snake.</p> - -<p>Then he smacked his lips, stamped his foot, stuck -his arms akimbo, and went out to meet the lasses, -looking for all the world like any young townsman, -or perhaps some would-be gentleman steward.</p> - -<p>He planted himself in the middle of the dam.</p> - -<p>The song rang out nearer and nearer and clearer -and clearer, floating away under the bright moon<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_275"></a>[275]</span> -until it seemed as if it must wake the whole of the -sleeping world. Then it suddenly broke off short.</p> - -<p>The young women poured out of the wood as poppies -might pour out of a girl’s apron, saw the long-tailed -dandy standing before them, and instantly huddled -together in a group at the farther end of the -dam.</p> - -<p>“Who is that standing there?” asked one of the -girls.</p> - -<p>“It’s the miller,” answered another.</p> - -<p>“The miller! Why, it doesn’t look like him one -bit!”</p> - -<p>“Perhaps it’s his workman.”</p> - -<p>“Who ever saw a workman dressed like that?”</p> - -<p>“Tell us who you are if you’re not a bad spirit!” -called the widow Buchilikha, evidently the boldest of -the party.</p> - -<p>The devil bowed to them from a distance, and -then approached, cringing and scraping like any -little upstart who tries to appear a gentleman.</p> - -<p>“Don’t be afraid, my birdies,” said he. “I’m a -young man, but I won’t do you any harm. Come on, -and don’t be afraid.”</p> - -<p>Each trying to push the other ahead, the women -and girls stepped on to the dam, and soon surrounded -the devil. Ah, there is nothing pleasanter than to be -surrounded by a dozen or so frolicsome lasses bombarding -you with swift glances, nudging one another -with their elbows, and giggling. The devil’s heart<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_276"></a>[276]</span> -was beginning to leap and sparkle a little, like birch -bark in a fire; he hardly knew what to do or where to -turn. And the girls kept laughing at him louder -and louder.</p> - -<p>“That’s right, that’s right, little birdies!” thought -the miller, peering out from behind his gnarled -willow-tree. “Remember, my duckies, how many -songs Philipko has sung with you, how many dances -he has led! See what trouble I’m in! Save me; I’m -caught like a fly in a cobweb!”</p> - -<p>He thought that if only they were to give the devil -one little pinch the fiend would sink into the ground.</p> - -<p>But old Buchilikha stopped the girls and exclaimed:</p> - -<p>“Get along with you, little magpies, you’ve laughed -at the poor lad till his nose hangs down and his -arms are limp. Tell us, young fellow, for whom are -you waiting here at the edge of the pond?”</p> - -<p>“For the miller.”</p> - -<p>“Then you’re a friend of his?”</p> - -<p>“A plague upon any friend of mine that’s like -him!” the miller tried to cry, but his words stuck in -his throat, and the devil replied:</p> - -<p>“He’s no very great friend of mine, but I can call -him an old acquaintance.”</p> - -<p>“Is it long since you’ve seen him?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, a long time.”</p> - -<p>“Then you wouldn’t recognise him now. He -used to be a nice lad, but he holds his head so high<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_277"></a>[277]</span> -now that you couldn’t touch his nose with a pitchfork.”</p> - -<p>“Really?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, indeed. It’s true, isn’t it, girls?”</p> - -<p>“It’s true, true, true!” chattered the whole bevy.</p> - -<p>“Tut, tut, not quite so loud!” cried the devil, putting -his fingers in his ears. “Tell me: what has happened -to him, and since when has he changed?”</p> - -<p>“Since he grew rich.”</p> - -<p>“And began to lend money.”</p> - -<p>“And opened a tavern.”</p> - -<p>“He and his horrid Kharko have fuddled my husband -Opanas so that the poor man never goes anywhere -now except to the tavern.”</p> - -<p>“He has ruined our husbands and fathers with -his drink.”</p> - -<p>“Oi, oi, he’s a misery to us all, the horrid miller!” -screamed one of the band, and in place of their songs, -a chorus of wails and women’s lamentations rang out -across the river.</p> - -<p>Philip rather scratched his head to hear the way -the young women were interceding for him. But the -devil’s mind now seemed to be quite made up. He -glanced at the girls out of one corner of his eye and -rubbed his hands together.</p> - -<p>“And that isn’t all!” shouted the widow Buchilikha -louder than the loudest. “Have you heard what he -wanted to do to the widow’s Galya?”</p> - -<p>“Faugh!” spat the miller. “What a damned lot<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_278"></a>[278]</span> -of magpies they are! What need to tell what they’re -not asked about? And how in the world did they -find it out? Though it only happened in the village -to-night, they have heard the whole story in -the hay-fields! Why on earth does God allow women -to live in this world?”</p> - -<p>“And what did my friend try to do to the widow’s -daughter?” asked the devil, looking about him as if -he weren’t particularly interested in the story.</p> - -<p>So the magpies went on to tell him everything, -talking all at once, and laid the whole affair before -him from beginning to end.</p> - -<p>The devil shook his head.</p> - -<p>“Oi, oi, oi! That’s bad, very bad. I don’t suppose -any one ever heard of your former inn-keeper -Yankel doing anything like that?”</p> - -<p>“Oh, what Jew ever thought of doing such a -thing?”</p> - -<p>“Oh, no, never!”</p> - -<p>“I see, my daisies, my little peaches, that you -don’t love my friend very much.”</p> - -<p>“Let him get the love of all the devils; he needn’t -expect any from us!”</p> - -<p>“Oi, oi, oi, you don’t wish him much good, I see!”</p> - -<p>“May the fever take him and shake him to pieces!”</p> - -<p>“May he follow his uncle into the pond!”</p> - -<p>“May the devil carry him off as he carried off -Yankel!”</p> - -<p>They all burst out laughing.</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_279"></a>[279]</span>“You are right, Olena; he is worse than a Jew.”</p> - -<p>“At least the Jew was a decent fellow; he let the -girls alone and lived with his Sarah.”</p> - -<p>The devil actually jumped in his tracks.</p> - -<p>“Thank you, thank you, my birdies, for your -friendly words. Isn’t it time for you to be going -on?”</p> - -<p>With that he threw back his head like a cock that -intends to give an extra loud crow, and burst into -a fit of uncontrollable laughter. He laughed so -loud that all the evil spirits on the bed of the -river woke up, and circles began spreading across -the surface of the pond. But the girls shied away -from him like a flock of sparrows into which some -one has thrown a stone, and vanished as if the wind -had suddenly blown them off the dam.</p> - -<p>The goose-flesh ran up and down the miller’s back, -and he stared down the road that led to the village.</p> - -<p>“The best thing for me to do,” he thought, “is -to make off after those girls as fast as my legs will -carry me. I used to be able to run with the best.”</p> - -<p>But at that moment he suddenly felt relieved, for -he saw some one coming toward the mill-dam. And it -wasn’t just any one, either, but his own servant -Kharko.</p> - -<p>“A miss is as good as a mile!” he thought. “There -is my man!”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_280"></a>[280]</span></p> - -<h3>X</h3> - - -<p>The servant was barefooted; he was wearing a red -shirt; a cap without a brim was stuck on the back -of his head, and on a stick he was carrying Opanas’ -new boots, which were dripping tar all over the dam.</p> - -<p>“What a hurry he’s in!” thought the miller. “He’s -got hold of the boots already. But never mind, all -my hopes are centred on him now.”</p> - -<p>As soon as the servant caught sight of a stranger -on the dam he instantly thought that here was some -thieving tramp waiting to steal his boots. So he -stopped a few steps from Khapun and said:</p> - -<p>“You’d better not come any nearer, I warn you! -I won’t give them up!”</p> - -<p>“What’s the matter with you? Come to your -senses, good man! Haven’t I boots of my own? -Look, they are better than yours!”</p> - -<p>“Then why have you planted yourself there by -night, like a crooked willow tree by a pond?”</p> - -<p>“Well, you see, I wanted to ask you a question.”</p> - -<p>“Splendid! A riddle is it, eh? Who told you I -could answer riddles better than any one else?”</p> - -<p>“Ha, ha, I’ve heard people say so!”</p> - -<p>The soldier set down his boots, took out his tobacco-pouch, -and began filling his pipe. Then he -struck a light with a flint, and, blowing out a thick -cloud of smoke from under his nose, said:</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_281"></a>[281]</span>“Now, then, spout it out. What’s your riddle?”</p> - -<p>“It isn’t exactly a riddle. I wanted to ask you -who you think is the best man in this neighbourhood?”</p> - -<p>“I am!”</p> - -<p>“And why do you think that? Isn’t there any -one here better than you are?”</p> - -<p>“You ask me what I think. Very well, I answer -that I won’t give the first place to any one.”</p> - -<p>“You’re right. And the miller, what sort of a man -is he?”</p> - -<p>“The miller?”</p> - -<p>The soldier blew out of his mouth a cloud of smoke -that looked as large in the moonlight as the tail of -a white horse. Then he eyed the devil askance and -asked:</p> - -<p>“You’re not a Customs officer, are you?”</p> - -<p>“No!”</p> - -<p>“And you’re not in the police—a detective, by any -chance?”</p> - -<p>“No, no, I tell you! What, a clever chap like -you, and you can’t even see when a man’s just an ordinary -fellow and when he isn’t?”</p> - -<p>“Who said I couldn’t? I can see through and -through you. I only asked that on the chance. -And now, let me see; you asked me what sort of -man the miller was?”</p> - -<p>“Yes.”</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_282"></a>[282]</span>“Well, he’s just about medium height, neither -very large nor very small; a good average.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, that’s not what I wanted to know!”</p> - -<p>“Isn’t it? What more do you want me to tell you? -Perhaps you would like to know where his warts are, -if he has any?”</p> - -<p>“You’re trying to throw dust in my eyes I see, -but I’m in a hurry. Tell me in plain words: is the -miller a good man or a bad one?”</p> - -<p>The soldier blew another huge tail of smoke out of -his mouth and said:</p> - -<p>“What a hasty fellow you are! You like to eat, -but you won’t chew.”</p> - -<p>The devil opened his eyes wide, and the miller’s -heart jumped for joy.</p> - -<p>“What a tongue that boy has!” he thought. “And -yet how often have I wished that it might drop off. -But now it has come in useful. How he is roasting -the devil!”</p> - -<p>“You like to eat, but you won’t chew, I tell you!” -the soldier repeated sternly. “You want me to tell -you whether the miller is a good man or not. Every -man’s good in my opinion. I’ve eaten bread from -many a stove, friend. I wouldn’t even cough where -you would die of suffocation. Do you think you’ve -struck a fool in me?”</p> - -<p>“Splendid! Splendid! Give it to him hard!” the -miller said to himself, dancing with joy. “My name -isn’t Philip the miller if the devil doesn’t look more<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_283"></a>[283]</span> -foolish than a sheep before half an hour is over! I -read so fast in church that no one can understand -me, but he talks quietly, and yet just listen to what -he is saying!”</p> - -<p>And in fact the poor devil was scratching his head -so hard that he was nearly knocking his hat off.</p> - -<p>“Hold on, soldier!” he exclaimed. “You and I -seem to run on and on and never get anywhere. -We’re all tangled up.”</p> - -<p>“I don’t know about you, but there’s no tangle I -can’t get out of.”</p> - -<p>“But look here; I asked you whether the miller was -a good man or not, and see where you’ve led me!”</p> - -<p>“Then let me ask you a question: is water good or -not?”</p> - -<p>“Water? What’s the matter with water?”</p> - -<p>“But if there was kvass<a id="FNanchor_10" href="#Footnote_10" class="fnanchor">[J]</a> about you would turn -up your nose at water, wouldn’t you? Water would -seem tasteless, then, wouldn’t it?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, perhaps it would.”</p> - -<p>“And if there was beer on the table you wouldn’t -drink kvass, would you?”</p> - -<p>“No, certainly not.”</p> - -<p>“And if some one brought you a mug of gorelka -you wouldn’t look at beer, eh?”</p> - -<p>“You’re quite right.”</p> - -<p>“Very well then, you see!”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_284"></a>[284]</span>The devil broke out into a sweat, and the tail -hanging out from under his coat beat the ground -till it actually raised a cloud of dust from the dam. -The soldier threw the stick with his boots on it over -his shoulder and was preparing to take his departure -when the devil thought of a way he might catch him. -He stepped a few steps to one side, and said:</p> - -<p>“Well,—go along, go along! I shall wait here a -little while longer in case Kharko the soldier should -happen to come by.”</p> - -<p>The soldier stopped.</p> - -<p>“What do you want with him?”</p> - -<p>“Nothing much, but they tell me that Kharko is -a bright fellow and that he knows a thing or two! -I thought at first you were he. But now I see I -was wrong. One simply goes round and round in a -circle with you, and can’t get going to save one’s -life.”</p> - -<p>The soldier set down his boots.</p> - -<p>“Come on, ask me another question!”</p> - -<p>“Oh, what’s the use?”</p> - -<p>“Try!”</p> - -<p>“Very well, then: tell me, whom did you like the -best, Yankel the inn-keeper, or the miller?”</p> - -<p>“Why didn’t you ask me that at once? I don’t -like people that hunt for their beards alongside their -noses. Some people would rather walk ten versts -through the fields than go one verst by the straight -road. But I’ll answer you straight to the point, as<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_285"></a>[285]</span> -they say. Yankel kept one inn, but the miller keeps -two.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, hang him, he needn’t have said that!” thought -the miller, miserably. “It would have been ever so -much better if he hadn’t referred to it.”</p> - -<p>But the soldier continued:</p> - -<p>“When I worked for Yankel, I wore bast shoes, -now I wear boots!”</p> - -<p>“From where did you get them?”</p> - -<p>“From where, eh? Our business is like a well with -two buckets. One bucket fills and the other grows -empty. One goes up and the other goes down. I -used to wear bast shoes; now I wear boots. Opanas -used to wear boots; now he goes barefoot because -he’s a fool. The bucket comes to the wise man full -and goes away empty. Now do you understand?”</p> - -<p>The devil listened attentively, and said:</p> - -<p>“Wait a minute! At last we seem to be getting -somewhere!”</p> - -<p>“But I’ve been telling you the same thing all along. -If you call Yankel kvass, then the miller is beer; -but if you were to give me a glass of good vodka, I -should let the beer alone.”</p> - -<p>The tip of the devil’s tail skipped about so madly -on the sand that Kharko noticed it at last. He blew -a puff of smoke right into the devil’s face, and put -his foot on the tail as if by accident. The devil -jumped, and yelped like a great dog. Both he and -Kharko took fright; they opened their eyes wide,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_286"></a>[286]</span> -and stood for half a minute staring at one another -without saying a word.</p> - -<p>At last Kharko whistled in that insolent way of -his, and said:</p> - -<p>“Ah, ha! ah, ha! So that’s the game, is it?”</p> - -<p>“And what did you think?” asked the devil.</p> - -<p>“Now I know the kind of a queer bird you are!”</p> - -<p>“I’m what you see I am.”</p> - -<p>“Then you’re the one who—last year—?”</p> - -<p>“Of course.”</p> - -<p>“And you’re—after him?”</p> - -<p>“You’re right. And what do you think of my -plan?”</p> - -<p>Kharko stretched his limbs, blew a puff of smoke, -and answered:</p> - -<p>“Take him! I won’t cry over him. I’m a poor -man. It’s none of my business. I’ll sit in the inn -smoking my pipe till a third one comes along.”</p> - -<p>Once more the devil roared with laughter, but the -soldier only slung his boots across his back and -walked rapidly away. As he passed the sycamore -tree the miller heard him muttering to himself:</p> - -<p>“So that’s the game, is it? He’s carried off one -and now he’s come back for the other. Well, it’s -none of my business. When the devil got the Jew -the miller got the goods. Now he’s come for the -miller and the goods will be mine. A soldier is his -own master. Now that I’ve the business in my own -hands, let’s see if I can’t keep it. I’ll not be poor<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_287"></a>[287]</span> -Kharko any longer, but Mr. Khariton Tregubov. -Only I’m not a fool. No temptation on earth will ever -take me on to this dam at night.”</p> - -<p>And with that he began climbing the hill.</p> - -<p>The miller stared from side to side. Who would -help him now? Not a soul was in sight. Darkness -was falling; a frog was croaking sleepily in the mud; -a bittern was booming angrily in the reeds. The -edge of the moon was peeping over the woods as if -asking: “What will become of Philip the miller -now?”</p> - -<p>It looked at him, winked, and set behind the trees.</p> - -<p>The devil stood on the dam holding his sides with -laughter. His shouts of merriment shook the floury -dust out of every cranny in the old mill; all the -spirits of the forest and pond awoke and came flitting -toward him, some floating like shadows out of the -wood, some hanging like filmy clouds over the water. -The pond stirred, streaks of swirling white vapour -rose from it, and ripples ran in circles across its -surface. The miller gave it one look, and his blood -ran cold: a blue face with dull, staring eyes was glaring -up at him out of the water, its long whiskers -waving like the antennæ of a water-beetle. Who -could it be but his uncle, rising from the pond and -coming straight toward the sycamore tree?</p> - -<p>Yankel the Jew had long since crept silently out -on to the dam, picked up the clothes which the devil -had discarded, slipped across to the sycamore tree,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_288"></a>[288]</span> -and hastily tied up his bundle. There was no more -mention of losses now; any man would have been -afraid to mention them, I can tell you! Losses be -hanged! Yankel hoisted his bundle on to his back -and shuffled quietly away, following the others along -the path that led from the mill to the village.</p> - -<p>The miller made a rush for his mill; once there, -at least he would be able to lock himself in or else -wake his workman! But he had hardly quitted his -tree before the devil jumped after him. Philip -dashed into the mill, slammed the door, rushed into -his room, hurriedly lit a light, and fell down on the -floor screaming with might and main, just like—what -do you think?—the Jews in their synagogue!</p> - -<p>And the devil circled over the mill, stuck his inquisitive -nose in at the window, and couldn’t make -out how to get at the tempting morsel before him.</p> - -<p>Suddenly, bang! Something dropped to the floor -with a thump as if a huge cat had jumped into the -room. That confounded devil had come down the -chimney! The fiend sprang to his feet, and next -instant the miller felt him sitting on his back, digging -his claws into his flesh.</p> - -<p>What could he do?</p> - -<p>Suddenly, another bang! Darkness fell, and the -devil was dragging the miller through a black, narrow -hole. The miller smelt clay, clouds of soot rose -about him, and all at once he saw lying below him -the chimney and the roof of the mill, growing smaller<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_289"></a>[289]</span> -and smaller every second, as if they and the dam and -the sycamore trees and the pond were falling into a -bottomless pit. And there lay the sky, reflected upside-down -in the calm mill-pond spread out below -them as smooth as a platter, and in it the peaceful -stars were twinkling as they had always twinkled -before. And the miller saw flying across those dark -blue depths a form that looked first like a hawk, and -then like a crow, and then like a sparrow, and then -like a large fly.</p> - -<p>“He is taking me ever so high!” thought the miller. -“There go your profits for you, Philipko, and your -inns, and all your fine show! Is there no Christian -soul who will call to him: Drop it, it is mine?”</p> - -<p>But Christian soul there was none! Below him -slept the mill, and out of the pond the monstrous -face of his uncle alone was glaring at him with glassy -eyes, laughing to itself and waving its whiskers.</p> - -<p>Farther on the Jew was still crawling up the hill, -stooping under his heavy white bundle. Half way -up the ascent stood Kharko, shading his eyes with -his hand and gazing up at the sky.</p> - -<p>The scattered band of girls had overtaken Opanas -and his oxen. They were flying along like lunatics -and Opanas was staring straight up at the sky as -he lay in his cart. Though his heart was kind, his -eyes were blind with vodka, and his tongue was as -heavy as lead. There was no one, no one, who would -cry: Drop it, it is mine!</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_290"></a>[290]</span>And there lay the village. There was the tavern, -closed for the night; there stood the sleeping cottages, -and there lay the gardens. There, too, stood -the tall poplar tree and the widow’s little khata. Old -Prisia and her daughter were sitting on a bench at -the door, weeping and embracing one another. And -why were they weeping? Was it because next day -the miller was going to drive them out of their native -hut?</p> - -<p>The miller’s heart leaped. At least these two -might give him a kind thought! He plucked up courage -and shouted:</p> - -<p>“Don’t cry, Galya; don’t cry, little sweetheart! I’ll -forgive you all your debts and the interest, too! Oh, -I’m in trouble, in worse trouble than you are. The -Evil One is carrying me away as a spider carries a -little fly.”</p> - -<p>Tender and sensitive is the heart of a girl! It -did not seem possible that Galya could have heard -the miller’s cry from such a great distance, but she -shuddered nevertheless, and raised her dark, weeping -eyes to heaven.</p> - -<p>“Farewell, farewell, my beautiful black eyes,” the -miller sighed, and at that instant he saw the girl’s -hands clutch her breast and heard her rend the air -with a piercing scream:</p> - -<p>“Drop it, foul fiend! Drop it, it is mine!”</p> - -<p>The sound tore at the devil’s ears like the mighty -swing of a brandished chain. His wings fluttered<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_291"></a>[291]</span> -feebly, his claws relaxed their hold, and Philip floated -down like a feather, turning from side to side.</p> - -<p>The devil dropped after him like a stone. But as -soon as he reached him and grabbed him afresh, -Galya shouted again:</p> - -<p>“Drop it, accursed one, it is mine!”</p> - -<p>The devil dropped the miller, and once more the -poor man floated downward. So it happened three -times, while the marsh lying between the mill and the -village spread ever wider and wider beneath them.</p> - -<p>Splash! The miller fell into the soft mud with -such a bump that the bog bounced as if it had been -on springs, and threw the miller ten feet into the air. -He fell down again, jumped up, and took to his heels -helter-skelter as fast as his legs could carry him. -As he ran he screamed at the top of his lungs, feeling -every second that the devil was going to grab him.</p> - -<p>He reached the first hut on the outskirts of the village, -flew the hedge at a bound, and found himself -in the middle of the widow’s cottage. Here he came -to his senses for the first time.</p> - -<p>“Well, I am in your cottage, thank God!” he said.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Just think of it, good people, what a prank he had -played! There he was early in the morning, before -sunrise, before even the cows had been driven out to -pasture, bareheaded, barefooted, in rags, plunging -into the hut of two unmarried women, a widow and -a young girl! Yes, and the fact that he was hatless<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_292"></a>[292]</span> -was a small matter; it was lucky indeed he hadn’t -lost something else on the way; if he had, he would -have disgraced the poor women forever! And on -top of it all what did he say? “Thank God, I am -in your cottage!”</p> - -<p>The old woman could only wave her arms, but -Galya jumped up in her nightgown from a bench, -threw on a dress, and cried to the miller:</p> - -<p>“What are you doing here, you wicked man? Are -you so drunk that you can’t find your own hut, and -so come rushing into ours, hey?”</p> - -<p>But the miller stood in front of her looking at her -with gentle if slightly staring eyes, and said:</p> - -<p>“Come on, hit me as hard as you can!”</p> - -<p>And she hit him once: bang!</p> - -<p>“Hit me again!”</p> - -<p>So she hit him again.</p> - -<p>“That’s right. Do you want to hit me any more?”</p> - -<p>So she hit him a third time. Then, when she saw -that not only did he not mind, but stood there looking -at her with gentle eyes, she threw up her hands -and burst into tears.</p> - -<p>“Oi, misery me, poor orphan that I am, who will -come to my help? Oi, what a man this is! Isn’t it -enough for him that he has deceived a young girl -like me, and that he wants to turn Turk, and has -made every one gossip about me, and disgraced me -before the whole village? Look at him, look at him, -good people! I have hit him three times and he<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_293"></a>[293]</span> -won’t even turn away. Oi, what can I do with a man -like him, tell me, somebody, do!”</p> - -<p>But the miller asked:</p> - -<p>“Are you going to hit me again or not? Tell me -truly. If you aren’t, I’m going to sit down on that -bench, because I’m tired.”</p> - -<p>Galya’s hands were approaching the miller again, -but the old woman guessed there was something out -of the ordinary about the business, and said to her -daughter:</p> - -<p>“Wait a bit, child! Why do you go on slapping -the man’s neck without even stopping to ask him a -question? Can’t you see that the lad’s a little bit -off his head? Tell me, neighbour, where did you come -from so suddenly, and what do you mean by saying: -Thank God I am in your cottage, when you know -you oughtn’t to be here at all?”</p> - -<p>The miller rubbed his eyes and said:</p> - -<p>“Tell me the honest truth, Auntie, am I asleep? -Am I still alive? Has one night or one year passed -since yesterday evening? And did I come here from -the mill or did I drop from the sky?”</p> - -<p>“Tut, tut, man! Cross yourself with your left -hand! What nonsense you’re talking. You must -have been dreaming!”</p> - -<p>“I don’t know, good mother, I don’t know. I can’t -make head or tail of it myself.”</p> - -<p>He was about to sit down on a bench, when he -caught sight through the window of Yankel the inn-keeper,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_294"></a>[294]</span> -crawling along with a huge bundle on his -back. The miller jumped up, pointed toward the -window, and asked the two women:</p> - -<p>“Who is that walking along there?”</p> - -<p>“Why, that’s our Yankel!”</p> - -<p>“And what is he carrying?”</p> - -<p>“A bundle from the city.”</p> - -<p>“Then why do you say I’ve been dreaming? Don’t -you see that the Jew has come back? I saw him at -the mill a moment ago, carrying that very same -bundle.”</p> - -<p>“And why shouldn’t he have come back?”</p> - -<p>“Because the devil carried him off last year. Khapun, -you know.”</p> - -<p>Well, in a word, there was a great deal of amazement -when the miller told of all that had happened -to him. And in the meanwhile a crowd was beginning -to collect in the road in front of the cottage; -the people looked in at the window, and began making -slanderous comments.</p> - -<p>“Look at that!” they said. “There’s a nice state -of affairs! The miller comes tearing across the fields -without a hat, without boots, all ragged and torn, -and runs straight into the widow’s cottage, and there -he sits with them now!”</p> - -<p>“Hey! Tell us, good man, whom have you come -to see all dressed up like that? Is it Old Prisia, or -young Galya?”</p> - -<p>You will agree, I am sure, that no one can allow<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_295"></a>[295]</span> -a poor girl to be gossiped about like that. The miller -was simply obliged to marry her. But Philip has -confessed to me many a time himself that he had -always loved the widow’s Galya, and that after the -night when she rescued him from the foul fiend’s -clutches, she grew so dear to him that he wouldn’t -have let himself be driven away from her with a stick.</p> - -<p>They are living at the mill now, and already have -several children. The miller has forgotten his inn -and no longer lends money at interest. And whenever -a voice in his heart whispers to him to wish -Yankel the Jew out of the village to the devil, he -only makes a contemptuous gesture.</p> - -<p>“And the inn?” He used sometimes to ask people -after his adventure. “Will it still remain?”</p> - -<p>“Of course the inn will remain. What should -become of it?”</p> - -<p>“But who will keep it? Perhaps you are thinking -of doing it yourself?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, perhaps I am.”</p> - -<p>And at that the miller would only whistle.</p> - - -<h3>XI</h3> - - - -<p>Yes, that is the adventure that befell the miller. -Such a strange adventure it was that to this day -no one has decided whether it really happened or not. -If you say it was all a falsehood, I can answer that<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_296"></a>[296]</span> -the miller was not a man to tell lies. Then, Gavrilo -the workman is still living at the mill, and though -he confesses himself that he was thoroughly drunk -that night, he remembers clearly that the miller -opened the door for him, and that his master’s face -was whiter than flour. And Yankel came back at -dawn, and Opanas reached home drunk and without -his boots, so it seems as if the miller could not really -have dreamt it after all.</p> - -<p>But then, again, take this: how could it be true, -when the whole affair would have taken a year to -happen and yet the miller ran barefoot into Galya’s -cottage the very next morning? A great many -people actually saw him, and wondered why the -miller was tearing barefoot across the fields to visit -the girl.</p> - -<p>The best plan, I think, is not to look too closely -into the story. Whether it happened or whether it -didn’t, I’ll give you a piece of advice. If you know -a miller, or any man who keeps two taverns and who -abuses the Jews and yet fleeces the people like sheep, -tell your friend this story. I recommend it to you; -the plan has been tried. Whether he gives up his -business or not, he will at least bring you a mugful -of vodka that, for once, won’t be diluted with water.</p> - -<p>There are people, of course, and this too has been -found to be true, who will growl at you like dogs -as soon as you tell them the story. People like them -I answer with these words: Grumble and growl as<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_297"></a>[297]</span> -much as you like, but I give you fair warning: take -care the same thing doesn’t happen to you!</p> - -<p>And I say this because, you see, the people of -Novokamensk have more than once seen that very -same devil again. Ever since he has had a taste of -the miller, he doesn’t want to go home without some -dainty morsel. So he flies about, peering in every direction -like a lost bird.</p> - -<p>Therefore, take care, good people, that something -evil doesn’t befall you.</p> - -<p>And now, good-bye! If I haven’t told the story to -suit your taste, don’t think ill of me, I’m only a -plain man.</p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p class="ph2">FOOTNOTES:</p> -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_1" href="#FNanchor_1" class="label">[A]</a> Mahorka: a very cheap smoking mixture made from the stems -of tobacco.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_2" href="#FNanchor_2" class="label">[B]</a> Taiga: the Siberian forest.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_3" href="#FNanchor_3" class="label">[C]</a> Toyon: Chief.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_4" href="#FNanchor_4" class="label">[D]</a> The Polyesie (The Woods), a district in southwestern or -Little Russia.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_5" href="#FNanchor_5" class="label">[E]</a> Bandura, an ancient oriental musical instrument of the -lute family.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_6" href="#FNanchor_6" class="label">[F]</a> The Little Russians shave their heads bare, leaving only a -long tuft of hair in the middle.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_7" href="#FNanchor_7" class="label">[G]</a> Gorelka: corn-whiskey.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_8" href="#FNanchor_8" class="label">[H]</a> An interwoven mass of the stems of herbaceous plants -often met with on the steppes of Russia.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_9" href="#FNanchor_9" class="label">[I]</a> Ten days after the Jewish New Year, which is celebrated -in the early Autumn, comes Yom Kippur, or the day of Purification, -called by the peasants of Little Russia the “Day of -Atonement.” A superstition exists among them that on this -day the Jewish Devil Khapun (the Snatcher) carries off one -Jew each year out of the Synagogue. This superstition probably -had its origin in the extremely impressive ceremonies -which the Jews carry out at this season with extraordinary -zeal under the eyes of the Christian village population.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_10" href="#FNanchor_10" class="label">[J]</a> Kvass: a foamy, fermented drink, made of brown flour -and hops.</p> - -</div> - - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="transnote"> -<div class="chapter"> - -<p class="ph2">TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES:</p> -</div> - - -<p>Obvious typographical errors have been corrected.</p> - -<p>Inconsistencies in hyphenation have been standardized.</p> -</div> - - - - - - - - - - -<pre> - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Makar's Dream and Other Stories, by -Vladimir Galaktionovich Korolenko - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MAKAR'S DREAM AND OTHER STORIES *** - -***** This file should be named 62555-h.htm or 62555-h.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/6/2/5/5/62555/ - -Produced by David E. 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