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diff --git a/8744-h/8744-h.htm b/8744-h/8744-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..62fbaa3 --- /dev/null +++ b/8744-h/8744-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,10265 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.1//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml11/DTD/xhtml11.dtd"> + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en"> + +<head> + +<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=ISO-8859-1" /> + +<title> +The Project Gutenberg E-text of A Sportsman's Sketches, Vol II, by Ivan Turgenev +</title> + +<style type="text/css"> +body { color: black; + background: white; + margin-right: 10%; + margin-left: 10%; + font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; + text-align: justify } + +p {text-indent: 4% } + +p.noindent {text-indent: 0% } + +p.t1 {text-indent: 0% ; + font-size: 200%; + text-align: center } + +p.t2 {text-indent: 0% ; + font-size: 150%; + text-align: center } + +p.t3 {text-indent: 0% ; + font-size: 100%; + text-align: center } + +p.t3b {text-indent: 0% ; + font-size: 100%; + font-weight: bold; + text-align: center } + +p.t4 {text-indent: 0% ; + font-size: 80%; + text-align: center } + +p.t4b {text-indent: 0% ; + font-size: 80%; + font-weight: bold; + text-align: center } + +p.t5 {text-indent: 0% ; + font-size: 60%; + text-align: center } + +h1 { text-align: center } +h2 { text-align: center } +h3 { text-align: center } +h4 { text-align: center } +h5 { text-align: center } + +p.poem {text-indent: 0%; + margin-left: 10%; } + +p.contents {text-indent: -3%; + margin-left: 5% } + +p.thought {text-indent: 0% ; + letter-spacing: 4em ; + text-align: center } + +p.letter {text-indent: 0%; + margin-left: 10% ; + margin-right: 10% } + +p.footnote {text-indent: 0% ; + font-size: 80%; + margin-left: 10% ; + margin-right: 10% } + +p.transnote {text-indent: 0% ; + margin-left: 0% ; + margin-right: 0% } + +p.intro {font-size: 90% ; + text-indent: -5% ; + margin-left: 5% ; + margin-right: 0% } + +p.quote {text-indent: 4% ; + margin-left: 0% ; + margin-right: 0% } + +p.finis { font-size: larger ; + text-align: center ; + text-indent: 0% ; + margin-left: 0% ; + margin-right: 0% } + +</style> + +</head> + +<body> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of A Sportsman's Sketches, by Ivan Turgenev + +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: A Sportsman's Sketches + Volume II + +Author: Ivan Turgenev + +Translator: Constance Garnett + +Posting Date: October 13, 2014 [EBook #8744] +Release Date: August, 2005 +First Posted: August 8, 2003 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A SPORTSMAN'S SKETCHES *** + + + + +Produced by Jonathan Ingram, David Garcia, Charles Franks +and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team. + + + + + + +</pre> + + +<h1> +<br /><br /><br /> +A SPORTSMAN'S SKETCHES +</h1> + +<p class="t2"> +BY IVAN TURGENEV +</p> + +<p class="t3"> +<i>Translated from the Russian</i><br /> +<i>By CONSTANCE GARNETT</i> +</p> + +<p class="t3"> +VOLUME II +</p> + +<p><br /><br /><br /></p> + +<p class="t3b"> +CONTENTS +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +XV. <a href="#chap15">TATYANA BORISSOVNA AND HER NEPHEW</a> +<br /> +XVI. <a href="#chap16">DEATH</a> +<br /> +XVII. <a href="#chap17">THE SINGERS</a> +<br /> +XVIII. <a href="#chap18">PIOTR PETROVITCH KARATAEV</a> +<br /> +XIX. <a href="#chap19">THE TRYST</a> +<br /> +XX. <a href="#chap20">THE HAMLET OF THE SHTCHIGRI DISTRICT</a> +<br /> +XXI. <a href="#chap21">TCHERTOP-HANOV AND NEDOPYUSKIN</a> +<br /> +XXII. <a href="#chap22">THE END OF TCHERTOP-HANOV</a> +<br /> +XXIII. <a href="#chap23">A LIVING RELIC</a> +<br /> +XXIV. <a href="#chap24">THE RATTLING OF WHEELS</a> +<br /> +XXV. <a href="#chap25">EPILOGUE: THE FOREST AND THE STEPPE</a> +</p> + +<p><br /><br /><br /></p> + +<h3> +<a id="chap15"></a> +XV +</h3> + +<h3> +TATYANA BORISSOVNA AND HER NEPHEW +</h3> + +<p> +Give me your hand, gentle reader, and come along with me. It is glorious +weather; there is a tender blue in the May sky; the smooth young leaves +of the willows glisten as though they had been polished; the wide even +road is all covered with that delicate grass with the little reddish +stalk that the sheep are so fond of nibbling; to right and to left, over +the long sloping hillsides, the green rye is softly waving; the shadows +of small clouds glide in thin long streaks over it. In the distance is +the dark mass of forests, the glitter of ponds, yellow patches of +village; larks in hundreds are soaring, singing, falling headlong with +outstretched necks, hopping about the clods; the crows on the highroad +stand still, look at you, peck at the earth, let you drive close up, and +with two hops lazily move aside. On a hill beyond a ravine a peasant is +ploughing; a piebald colt, with a cropped tail and ruffled mane, is +running on unsteady legs after its mother; its shrill whinnying reaches +us. We drive on into the birch wood, and drink in the strong, sweet, +fresh fragrance. Here we are at the boundaries. The coachman gets down; +the horses snort; the trace-horses look round; the centre horse in the +shafts switches his tail, and turns his head up towards the wooden yoke +above it... the great gate opens creaking; the coachman seats +himself.... Drive on! the village is before us. Passing five homesteads, +and turning off to the right, we drop down into a hollow and drive along +a dyke, the farther side of a small pond; behind the round tops of the +lilacs and apple-trees a wooden roof, once red, with two chimneys, comes +into sight; the coachman keeps along the hedge to the left, and to the +spasmodic and drowsy baying of three pug dogs he drives through the wide +open gates, whisks smartly round the broad courtyard past the stable and +the barn, gallantly salutes the old housekeeper, who is stepping +sideways over the high lintel in the open doorway of the storehouse, and +pulls up at last before the steps of a dark house with light windows.... +We are at Tatyana Borissovna's. And here she is herself opening the +window and nodding at us.... 'Good day, ma'am!' +</p> + +<p> +Tatyana Borissovna is a woman of fifty, with large, prominent grey eyes, +a rather broad nose, rosy cheeks and a double chin. Her face is brimming +over with friendliness and kindness. She was once married, but was soon +left a widow. Tatyana Borissovna is a very remarkable woman. She lives +on her little property, never leaving it, mixes very little with her +neighbours, sees and likes none but young people. She was the daughter +of very poor landowners, and received no education; in other words, she +does not know French; she has never been in Moscow--and in spite of all +these defects, she is so good and simple in her manners, so broad in her +sympathies and ideas, so little infected with the ordinary prejudices of +country ladies of small means, that one positively cannot help +marvelling at her.... Indeed, a woman who lives all the year round in +the country and does not talk scandal, nor whine, nor curtsey, is never +flurried, nor depressed, nor in a flutter of curiosity, is a real +marvel! She usually wears a grey taffetas gown and a white cap with +lilac streamers; she is fond of good cheer, but not to excess; all the +preserving, pickling, and salting she leaves to her housekeeper. 'What +does she do all day long?' you will ask.... 'Does she read?' No, she +doesn't read, and, to tell the truth, books are not written for her.... +If there are no visitors with her, Tatyana Borissovna sits by herself at +the window knitting a stocking in winter; in summer time she is in the +garden, planting and watering her flowers, playing for hours together +with her cats, or feeding her doves.... She does not take much part in +the management of her estate. But if a visitor pays her a call--some +young neighbour whom she likes--Tatyana Borissovna is all life directly; +she makes him sit down, pours him out some tea, listens to his chat, +laughs, sometimes pats his cheek, but says little herself; in trouble or +sorrow she comforts and gives good advice. How many people have confided +their family secrets and the griefs of their hearts to her, and have +wept over her hands! At times she sits opposite her visitor, leaning +lightly on her elbow, and looks with such sympathy into his face, smiles +so affectionately, that he cannot help feeling: 'What a dear, good woman +you are, Tatyana Borissovna! Let me tell you what is in my heart.' One +feels happy and warm in her small, snug rooms; in her house it is +always, so to speak, fine weather. Tatyana Borissovna is a wonderful +woman, but no one wonders at her; her sound good sense, her breadth and +firmness, her warm sympathy in the joys and sorrows of others--in a +word, all her qualities are so innate in her; they are no trouble, no +effort to her.... One cannot fancy her otherwise, and so one feels no +need to thank her. She is particularly fond of watching the pranks and +follies of young people; she folds her hands over her bosom, throws back +her head, puckers up her eyes, and sits smiling at them, then all of a +sudden she heaves a sigh, and says, 'Ah, my children, my children!'... +Sometimes one longs to go up to her, take hold of her hands and say: +'Let me tell you, Tatyana Borissovna, you don't know your own value; for +all your simplicity and lack of learning, you're an extraordinary +creature!' Her very name has a sweet familiar ring; one is glad to utter +it; it calls up a kindly smile at once. How often, for instance, have I +chanced to ask a peasant: 'Tell me, my friend, how am I to get to +Gratchevka?' let us say. 'Well, sir, you go on first to Vyazovoe, and +from there to Tatyana Borissovna's, and from Tatyana Borissovna's any +one will show you the way.' And at the name of Tatyana Borissovna the +peasant wags his head in quite a special way. Her household is small, in +accordance with her means. The house, the laundry, the stores and the +kitchen, are in the charge of the housekeeper, Agafya, once her nurse, a +good-natured, tearful, toothless creature; she has under her two +stalwart girls with stout crimson cheeks like Antonovsky apples. The +duties of valet, steward, and waiter are filled by Policarp, an +extraordinary old man of seventy, a queer fellow, full of erudition, +once a violinist and worshipper of Viotti, with a personal hostility to +Napoleon, or, as he calls him, Bonaparty, and a passion for +nightingales. He always keeps five or six of the latter in his room; in +early spring he will sit for whole days together by the cage, waiting +for the first trill, and when he hears it, he covers his face with his +hands, and moans, 'Oh, piteous, piteous!' and sheds tears in floods. +Policarp has, to help him, his grandson Vasya, a curly-headed, +sharp-eyed boy of twelve; Policarp adores him, and grumbles at him from +morning till night. He undertakes his education too. 'Vasya,' he says, +'say Bonaparty was a scoundrel.' 'And what'll you give me, granddad?' +'What'll I give you?... I'll give you nothing.... Why, what are you? +Aren't you a Russian?' 'I'm a Mtchanin, granddad; I was born in +Mtchensk.' 'Oh, silly dunce! but where is Mtchensk?' 'How can I tell?' +'Mtchensk's in Russia, silly!' 'Well, what then, if it is in Russia?' +'What then? Why, his Highness the late Prince Mihalo Ilarionovitch +Golenishtchev-Kutuzov-Smolensky, with God's aid, graciously drove +Bonaparty out of the Russian territories. It's on that event the song +was composed: "Bonaparty's in no mood to dance, He's lost the garters he +brought from France."... Do you understand? he liberated your +fatherland.' 'And what's that to do with me?' 'Ah! you silly boy! Why, +if his Highness Prince Mihalo Ilarionovitch hadn't driven out Bonaparty, +some mounseer would have been beating you about the head with a stick +this minute. He'd come up to you like this, and say: "Koman voo porty +voo?" and then a box on the ear!' 'But I'd give him one in the belly +with my fist' 'But he'd go on: "Bonzhur, bonzhur, veny ici," and then a +cuff on the head.' 'And I'd give him one in his legs, his bandy legs.' +'You're quite right, their legs are bandy.... Well, but suppose he tied +your hands?' 'I wouldn't let him; I'd call Mihay the coachman to help +me.' 'But, Vasya, suppose you weren't a match for the Frenchy even with +Mihay?' 'Not a match for him! See how strong Mihay is!' 'Well, and what +would you do with him?' 'We'd get him on his back, we would.' 'And he'd +shout, "Pardon, pardon, seevooplay!"' 'We'd tell him, "None of your +seevooplays, you old Frenchy!"' 'Bravo, Vasya!... Well, now then, shout, +"Bonaparty's a scoundrel!"' 'But you must give me some sugar!' 'You +scamp!' +</p> + +<p> +Of the neighbouring ladies Tatyana Borissovna sees very little; they do +not care about going to see her, and she does not know how to amuse +them; the sound of their chatter sends her to sleep; she starts, tries +to keep her eyes open, and drops off again. Tatyana Borissovna is not +fond of women as a rule. One of her friends, a good, harmless young man, +had a sister, an old maid of thirty-eight and a half, a good-natured +creature, but exaggerated, affected, and enthusiastic. Her brother had +often talked to her of their neighbour. One fine morning our old maid +has her horse saddled, and, without a word to any one, sallies off to +Tatyana Borissovna's. In her long habit, a hat on her head, a green veil +and floating curls, she went into the hall, and passing by the +panic-stricken Vasya, who took her for a wood-witch, ran into the +drawing-room. Tatyana Borissovna, scared, tried to rise, but her legs +sank under her. 'Tatyana Borissovna,' began the visitor in a +supplicating voice, 'forgive my temerity; I am the sister of your +friend, Alexy Nikolaevitch K----, and I have heard so much about you +from him that I resolved to make your acquaintance.' 'Greatly honoured,' +muttered the bewildered lady. The sister flung off her hat, shook her +curls, seated herself near Tatyana Borissovna; took her by the hand... +'So this is she,' she began in a pensive voice fraught with feeling: +'this is that sweet, clear, noble, holy being! This is she! that woman +at once so simple and so deep! How glad I am! how glad I am! How we +shall love each other! I can breathe easily at last... I always fancied +her just so,' she added in a whisper, her eyes riveted on the eyes of +Tatyana Borissovna. 'You won't be angry with me, will you, my dear kind +friend?' 'Really, I'm delighted!... Won't you have some tea?' The lady +smiled patronisingly: <i>'Wie wahr, wie unreflectiert'</i>, she murmured, +as it were to herself. 'Let me embrace you, my dear one!' +</p> + +<p> +The old maid stayed three hours at Tatyana Borissovna's, never ceasing +talking an instant. She tried to explain to her new acquaintance all her +own significance. Directly after the unexpected visitor had departed, +the poor lady took a bath, drank some lime-flower water, and took to her +bed. But the next day the old maid came back, stayed four hours, and +left, promising to come to see Tatyana Borissovna every day. Her idea, +please to observe, was to develop, to complete the education of so rich +a nature, to use her own expression, and she would probably have really +been the death of her, if she had not, in the first place, been utterly +disillusioned as regards her brother's friend within a fortnight, and +secondly, fallen in love with a young student on a visit in the +neighbourhood, with whom she at once rushed into a fervid and active +correspondence; in her missives she consecrated him, as the manner of +such is, to a noble, holy life, offered herself wholly a sacrifice, +asked only for the name of sister, launched into endless descriptions of +nature, made allusions to Goethe, Schiller, Bettina and German +philosophy, and drove the luckless young man at last to the blackest +desperation. But youth asserted itself: one fine morning he woke up with +such a furious hatred for 'his sister and best of friends' that he +almost killed his valet in his passion, and was snappish for a long +while after at the slightest allusion to elevated and disinterested +passion. But from that time forth Tatyana Borissovna began to avoid all +intimacy with ladies of the neighbourhood more than ever. +</p> + +<p> +Alas! nothing is lasting on this earth. All I have related as to the way +of life of my kind-hearted neighbour is a thing of the past; the peace +that used to reign in her house has been destroyed for ever. For more +than a year now there has been living with her a nephew, an artist from +Petersburg. This is how it came about. +</p> + +<p> +Eight years ago, there was living with Tatyana Borissovna a boy of +twelve, an orphan, the son of her brother, Andryusha. Andryusha had +large, clear, humid eyes, a tiny little mouth, a regular nose, and a +fine lofty brow. He spoke in a low, sweet voice, was attentive and +coaxing with visitors, kissed his auntie's hand with an orphan's +sensibility; and one hardly had time to show oneself before he had put a +chair for one. He had no mischievous tricks; he was never noisy; he +would sit by himself in a corner with a book, and with such sedateness +and propriety, never even leaning back in his chair. When a visitor came +in, Andryusha would get up, with a decorous smile and a flush; when the +visitor went away he would sit down again, pull out of his pocket a +brush and a looking-glass, and brush his hair. From his earliest years +he had shown a taste for drawing. Whenever he got hold of a piece of +paper, he would ask Agafya the housekeeper for a pair of scissors at +once, carefully cut a square piece out of the paper, trace a border +round it and set to work; he would draw an eye with an immense pupil, or +a Grecian nose, or a house with a chimney and smoke coming out of it in +the shape of a corkscrew, a dog, <i>en face</i>, looking rather like a +bench, or a tree with two pigeons on it, and would sign it: 'Drawn by +Andrei Byelovzorov, such a day in such a year, in the village of +Maliya-Briki.' He used to toil with special industry for a fortnight +before Tatyana Borissovna's birthday; he was the first to present his +congratulations and offer her a roll of paper tied up with a pink +ribbon. Tatyana Borissovna would kiss her nephew and undo the knot; the +roll was unfolded and presented to the inquisitive gaze of the +spectator, a round, boldly sketched temple in sepia, with columns and an +altar in the centre; on the altar lay a burning heart and a wreath, +while above, on a curling scroll, was inscribed in legible characters: +'To my aunt and benefactress, Tatyana Borissovna Bogdanov, from her +dutiful and loving nephew, as a token of his deepest affection.' Tatyana +Borissovna would kiss him again and give him a silver rouble. She did +not, though, feel any very warm affection for him; Andryusha's fawning +ways were not quite to her taste. Meanwhile, Andryusha was growing up; +Tatyana Borissovna began to be anxious about his future. An unexpected +incident solved the difficulty to her. +</p> + +<p> +One day eight years ago she received a visit from a certain Mr. +Benevolensky, Piotr Mihalitch, a college councillor with a decoration. +Mr. Benevolensky had at one time held an official post in the nearest +district town, and had been assiduous in his visits to Tatyana +Borissovna; then he had moved to Petersburg, got into the ministry, and +attained a rather important position, and on one of the numerous +journeys he took in the discharge of his official duties, he remembered +his old friend, and came back to see her, with the intention of taking a +rest for two days from his official labours 'in the bosom of the peace +of nature.' Tatyana Borissovna greeted him with her usual cordiality, +and Mr. Benevolensky.... But before we proceed with the rest of the +story, gentle reader, let us introduce you to this new personage. +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Benevolensky was a stoutish man, of middle height and mild +appearance, with little short legs and little fat hands; he wore a roomy +and excessively spruce frock-coat, a high broad cravat, snow-white +linen, a gold chain on his silk waistcoat, a gem-ring on his forefinger, +and a white wig on his head; he spoke softly and persuasively, trod +noiselessly, and had an amiable smile, an amiable look in his eyes, and +an amiable way of settling his chin in his cravat; he was, in fact, an +amiable person altogether. God had given him a heart, too, of the +softest; he was easily moved to tears and to transports; moreover, he +was all aglow with disinterested passion for art: disinterested it +certainly was, for Mr. Benevolensky, if the truth must be told, knew +absolutely nothing about art. One is set wondering, indeed, whence, by +virtue of what mysterious uncomprehended forces, this passion had come +upon him. He was, to all appearance, a practical, even prosaic person... +however, we have a good many people of the same sort among us in +Russia. +</p> + +<p> +Their devotion to art and artists produces in these people an +inexpressible mawkishness; it is distressing to have to do with them and +to talk to them; they are perfect logs smeared with honey. They never, +for instance, call Raphael, Raphael, or Correggio, Correggio; 'the +divine Sanzio, the incomparable di Allegri,' they murmur, and always +with the broadest vowels. Every pretentious, conceited, home-bred +mediocrity they hail as a genius: 'the blue sky of Italy,' 'the lemons +of the South,' 'the balmy breezes of the banks of the Brenta,' are for +ever on their lips. 'Ah, Vasya, Vasya,' or 'Oh, Sasha, Sasha,' they say +to one another with deep feeling, 'we must away to the South... we are +Greeks in soul--ancient Greeks.' One may observe them at exhibitions +before the works of some Russian painters (these gentlemen, it should be +noted, are, for the most part, passionate patriots). First they step +back a couple of paces, and throw back their heads; then they go up to +the picture again; their eyes are suffused with an oily moisture.... +'There you have it, my God!' they say at last, in voices broken with +emotion; 'there's soul, soul! Ah! what feeling, what feeling! Ah, what +soul he has put into it! what a mass of soul!... And how he has thought +it out! thought it out like a master!' And, oh! the pictures in their +own drawing-rooms! Oh, the artists that come to them in the evenings, +drink tea, and listen to their conversation! And the views in +perspective they make them of their own rooms, with a broom in the +foreground, a little heap of dust on the polished floor, a yellow +samovar on a table near the window, and the master of the house himself +in skull-cap and dressing-gown, with a brilliant streak of sunlight +falling on his cheek! Oh, the long-haired nurslings of the Muse, wearing +spasmodic and contemptuous smiles, that cluster about them! Oh, the +young ladies, with faces of greenish pallor, who squeal; over their +pianos! For that is the established rule with us in Russia; a man cannot +be devoted to one art alone--he must have them all. And so it is not to +be wondered at that these gentlemen extend their powerful patronage to +Russian literature also, especially to dramatic literature.... The +<i>Jacob Sannazars</i> are written for them; the struggle of unappreciated +talent against the whole world, depicted a thousand times over, still +moves them profoundly.... +</p> + +<p> +The day after Mr. Benevolensky's arrival, Tatyana Borissovna told her +nephew at tea-time to show their guest his drawings. 'Why, does he +draw?' said Mr. Benevolensky, with some surprise, and he turned with +interest to Andryusha. 'Yes, he draws,' said Tatyana Borissovna; 'he's +so fond of it! and he does it all alone, without a master.' 'Ah! show +me, show me,' cried Mr. Benevolensky. Andryusha, blushing and smiling, +brought the visitor his sketch-book. Mr. Benevolensky began turning it +over with the air of a connoisseur. 'Good, young man,' he pronounced at +last; 'good, very good.' And he patted Andryusha on the head. Andryusha +intercepted his hand and kissed it 'Fancy, now, a talent like that!... +I congratulate you, Tatyana Borissovna.' 'But what am I to do, Piotr +Mihalitch? I can't get him a teacher here. To have one from the town is +a great expense; our neighbours, the Artamonovs, have a drawing-master, +and they say an excellent one, but his mistress forbids his giving +lessons to outsiders.' 'Hm,' pronounced Mr. Benevolensky; he pondered +and looked askance at Andryusha. 'Well, we will talk it over,' he added +suddenly, rubbing his hands. The same day he begged Tatyana Borissovna's +permission for an interview with her alone. They shut themselves up +together. In half-an-hour they called Andryusha--Andryusha went in. Mr. +Benevolensky was standing at the window with a slight flush on his face +and a beaming expression. Tatyana Borissovna was sitting in a corner +wiping her eyes. 'Come, Andryusha,' she said at last, 'you must thank +Piotr Mihalitch; he will take you under his protection; he will take you +to Petersburg.' Andryusha almost fainted on the spot. 'Tell me +candidly,' began Mr. Benevolensky, in a voice filled with dignity and +patronising indulgence; 'do you want to be an artist, young man? Do you +feel yourself consecrated to the holy service of Art?' 'I want to be an +artist, Piotr Mihalitch,' Andryusha declared in a trembling voice. 'I am +delighted, if so it be. It will, of course,' continued Mr. +Benevolensky,'be hard for you to part from your revered aunt; you must +feel the liveliest gratitude to her.' 'I adore my auntie,' Andryusha +interrupted, blinking. 'Of course, of course, that's readily understood, +and does you great credit; but, on the other hand, consider the pleasure +that in the future... your success....' 'Kiss me, Andryusha,' muttered +the kind-hearted lady. Andryusha flung himself on her neck. 'There, now, +thank your benefactor.' Andryusha embraced Mr. Benevolensky's stomach, +and stretching on tiptoe, reached his hand and imprinted a kiss, which +his benefactor, though with some show of reluctance, accepted.... He +had, to be sure, to pacify the child, and, after all, might reflect that +he deserved it. Two days later, Mr. Benevolensky departed, taking with +him his new <i>protégé</i>. +</p> + +<p> +During the first three years of Andryusha's absence he wrote pretty +often, sometimes enclosing drawings in his letters. From time to time +Mr. Benevolensky added a few words, for the most part of approbation; +then the letters began to be less and less frequent, and at last ceased +altogether. A whole year passed without a word from her nephew; and +Tatyana Borissovna was beginning to be uneasy when suddenly she got the +following note:-- +</p> + +<p> +'DEAREST AUNTIE,--Piotr Mihalitch, my patron, died three days ago. A +severe paralytic stroke has deprived me of my sole support. To be sure, +I am now twenty. I have made considerable progress during the last seven +years; I have the greatest confidence in my talent, and can make my +living by means of it; I do not despair; but all the same send me, +if you can, as soon as convenient, 250 roubles. I kiss your hand and +remain...' etc. +</p> + +<p> +Tatyana Borissovna sent her nephew 250 roubles. Two months later he +asked for more; she got together every penny she had and sent it him. +Not six weeks after the second donation he was asking a third time for +help, ostensibly to buy colours for a portrait bespoken by Princess +Tertereshenev. Tatyana Borissovna refused. 'Under these circumstances,' +he wrote to her, 'I propose coming to you to regain my health in the +country.' And in the May of the same year Andryusha did, in fact, return +to Maliya-Briki. +</p> + +<p> +Tatyana Borissovna did not recognise him for the first minute. From his +letter she had expected to see a wasted invalid, and she beheld a stout, +broad-shouldered fellow, with a big red face and greasy, curly hair. The +pale, slender little Andryusha had turned into the stalwart Andrei +Ivanovitch Byelovzorov. And it was not only his exterior that was +transformed. The modest spruceness, the sedateness and tidiness of his +earlier years, was replaced by a careless swagger and slovenliness quite +insufferable; he rolled from side to side as he walked, lolled in +easy-chairs, put his elbows on the table, stretched and yawned, and +behaved rudely to his aunt and the servants. 'I'm an artist,' he would +say; 'a free Cossack! That's our sort!' Sometimes he did not touch a +brush for whole days together; then the inspiration, as he called it, +would come upon him; then he would swagger about as if he were drunk, +clumsy, awkward, and noisy; his cheeks were flushed with a coarse +colour, his eyes dull; he would launch into discourses upon his talent, +his success, his development, the advance he was making.... It turned +out in actual fact that he had barely talent enough to produce passable +portraits. He was a perfect ignoramus, had read nothing; why should an +artist read, indeed? Nature, freedom, poetry were his fitting elements; +he need do nothing but shake his curls, talk, and suck away at his +eternal cigarette! Russian audacity is a fine thing, but it doesn't suit +every one; and Polezhaevs at second-hand, without the genius, are +insufferable beings. Andrei Ivanovitch went on living at his aunt's; he +did not seem to find the bread of charity bitter, notwithstanding the +proverb. Visitors to the house found him a mortal nuisance. He would sit +at the piano (a piano, too, had been installed at Tatyana Borissovna's) +and begin strumming 'The Swift Sledge' with one finger; he would strike +some chords, tap on the keys, and for hours together he would howl +Varlamov's songs, 'The Solitary Pine,' or 'No, doctor, no, don't come to +me,' in the most distressing manner, and his eyes seemed to disappear +altogether, his cheeks were so puffed out and tense as drums.... Then he +would suddenly strike up: 'Be still, distracting passion's tempest!'... +Tatyana Borissovna positively shuddered. +</p> + +<p> +'It's a strange thing,' she observed to me one day, 'the songs they +compose nowadays; there's something desperate about them; in my day they +were very different. We had mournful songs, too, but it was always a +pleasure to hear them.... For instance:-- +</p> + +<p class="poem"> + "'Come, come to me in the meadow,<br /> + Where I am awaiting thee;<br /> + Come, come to me in the meadow,<br /> + Where I'm shedding tears for thee...<br /> + Alas! thou'rt coming to the meadow,<br /> + But too late, dear love, for me!'"<br /> +</p> + +<p><br /></p> + +<p> +Tatyana Borissovna smiled slyly. +</p> + +<p> +'I agon-ise, I agon-ise!' yelled her nephew in the next room. +</p> + +<p> +'Be quiet, Andryusha!' +</p> + +<p> +'My soul's consumed apart from thee!' the indefatigable singer +continued. +</p> + +<p> +Tatyana Borissovna shook her head. +</p> + +<p> +'Ah, these artists! these artists!'.... +</p> + +<p> +A year has gone by since then. Byelovzorov is still living at his +aunt's, and still talking of going back to Petersburg. He has grown as +broad as he is long in the country. His aunt--who could have imagined +such a thing?--idolises him, and the young girls of the neighbourhood +are falling in love with him.... +</p> + +<p> +Many of her old friends have given up going to Tatyana Borissovna's. +</p> + +<p><br /><br /><br /></p> + +<h3> +<a id="chap16"></a> +XVI +</h3> + +<h3> +DEATH +</h3> + +<p> +I have a neighbour, a young landowner and a young sportsman. One fine +July morning I rode over to him with a proposition that we should go out +grouse-shooting together. He agreed. 'Only let's go,' he said, 'to my +underwoods at Zusha; I can seize the opportunity to have a look at +Tchapligino; you know my oakwood; they're felling timber there.' 'By all +means.' He ordered his horse to be saddled, put on a green coat with +bronze buttons, stamped with a boar's head, a game-bag embroidered in +crewels, and a silver flask, slung a new-fangled French gun over his +shoulder, turned himself about with some satisfaction before the +looking-glass, and called his dog, Hope, a gift from his cousin, an old +maid with an excellent heart, but no hair on her head. We started. My +neighbour took with him the village constable, Arhip, a stout, squat +peasant with a square face and jaws of antediluvian proportions, and an +overseer he had recently hired from the Baltic provinces, a youth of +nineteen, thin, flaxen-haired, and short-sighted, with sloping shoulders +and a long neck, Herr Gottlieb von der Kock. My neighbour had himself +only recently come into the property. It had come to him by inheritance +from an aunt, the widow of a councillor of state, Madame Kardon-Kataev, +an excessively stout woman, who did nothing but lie in her bed, sighing +and groaning. We reached the underwoods. 'You wait for me here at the +clearing,' said Ardalion Mihalitch (my neighbour) addressing his +companions. The German bowed, got off his horse, pulled a book out of +his pocket--a novel of Johanna Schopenhauer's, I fancy--and sat down +under a bush; Arhip remained in the sun without stirring a muscle for an +hour. We beat about among the bushes, but did not come on a single +covey. Ardalion Mihalitch announced his intention of going on to the +wood. I myself had no faith, somehow, in our luck that day; I, too, +sauntered after him. We got back to the clearing. The German noted the +page, got up, put the book in his pocket, and with some difficulty +mounted his bob-tailed, broken-winded mare, who neighed and kicked at +the slightest touch; Arhip shook himself, gave a tug at both reins at +once, swung his legs, and at last succeeded in starting his torpid and +dejected nag. We set off. +</p> + +<p> +I had been familiar with Ardalion Mihalitch's wood from my childhood. I +had often strolled in Tchapligino with my French tutor, Monsieur Désiré +Fleury, the kindest of men (who had, however, almost ruined my +constitution for life by dosing me with Leroux's mixture every evening). +The whole wood consisted of some two or three hundred immense oaks and +ash-trees. Their stately, powerful trunks were magnificently black +against the transparent golden green of the nut bushes and +mountain-ashes; higher up, their wide knotted branches stood out in +graceful lines against the clear blue sky, unfolding into a tent +overhead; hawks, honey-buzzards and kestrels flew whizzing under the +motionless tree-tops; variegated wood-peckers tapped loudly on the stout +bark; the blackbird's bell-like trill was heard suddenly in the thick +foliage, following on the ever-changing note of the gold-hammer; in the +bushes below was the chirp and twitter of hedge-warblers, siskins, and +peewits; finches ran swiftly along the paths; a hare would steal along +the edge of the wood, halting cautiously as he ran; a squirrel would hop +sporting from tree to tree, then suddenly sit still, with its tail over +its head. In the grass among the high ant-hills under the delicate shade +of the lovely, feathery, deep-indented bracken, were violets and lilies +of the valley, and funguses, russet, yellow, brown, red and crimson; in +the patches of grass among the spreading bushes red strawberries were to +be found.... And oh, the shade in the wood! In the most stifling heat, +at mid-day, it was like night in the wood: such peace, such fragrance, +such freshness.... I had spent happy times in Tchapligino, and so, I +must own, it was with melancholy feelings I entered the wood I knew so +well. The ruinous, snowless winter of 1840 had not spared my old +friends, the oaks and the ashes; withered, naked, covered here and there +with sickly foliage, they struggled mournfully up above the young growth +which 'took their place, but could never replace them.' [Footnote: In +1840 there were severe frosts, and no snow fell up to the very end of +December; all the wintercorn was frozen, and many splendid oak-forests +were destroyed by that merciless winter. It will be hard to replace +them; the productive force of the land is apparently diminishing; in the +'interdicted' wastelands (visited by processions with holy images, and +so not to be touched), instead of the noble trees of former days, +birches and aspens grow of themselves; and, indeed, they have no idea +among us of planting woods at all.--<i>Author's Note</i>.] +</p> + +<p> +Some trees, still covered with leaves below, fling their lifeless, +ruined branches upwards, as it were, in reproach and despair; in others, +stout, dead, dry branches are thrust out of the midst of foliage still +thick, though with none of the luxuriant abundance of old; others have +fallen altogether, and lie rotting like corpses on the ground. And--who +could have dreamed of this in former days?--there was no shade--no shade +to be found anywhere in Tchapligino! 'Ah,' I thought, looking at the +dying trees: 'isn't it shameful and bitter for you?'... Koltsov's lines +recurred to me: +</p> + +<p class="poem"> + 'What has become<br /> + Of the mighty voices,<br /> + The haughty strength,<br /> + The royal pomp?<br /> + Where now is the<br /> + Wealth of green?...<br /> +</p> + +<p><br /></p> + +<p> +'How is it, Ardalion Mihalitch,' I began, 'that they didn't fell these +trees the very next year? You see they won't give for them now a tenth +of what they would have done before.' +</p> + +<p> +He merely shrugged his shoulders. +</p> + +<p> +'You should have asked my aunt that; the timber merchants came, offered +money down, pressed the matter, in fact.' +</p> + +<p> +'<i>Mein Gott! mein Gott!</i>' Von der Kock cried at every step. 'Vat a +bity, vat a bity!' +</p> + +<p> +'What's a bity!' observed my neighbour with a smile. +</p> + +<p> +'That is; how bitiful, I meant to say.' +</p> + +<p> +What particularly aroused his regrets were the oaks lying on the +ground--and, indeed, many a miller would have given a good sum for them. +But the constable Arhip preserved an unruffled composure, and did not +indulge in any lamentations; on the contrary, he seemed even to jump +over them and crack his whip on them with a certain satisfaction. +</p> + +<p> +We were getting near the place where they were cutting down the trees, +when suddenly a shout and hurried talk was heard, following on the crash +of a falling tree, and a few instants after a young peasant, pale and +dishevelled, dashed out of the thicket towards us. +</p> + +<p> +'What is it? where are you running?' Ardalion Mihalitch asked him. +</p> + +<p> +He stopped at once. +</p> + +<p> +'Ah, Ardalion Mihalitch, sir, an accident!' +</p> + +<p> +'What is it?' +</p> + +<p> +'Maksim, sir, crushed by a tree.' +</p> + +<p> +'How did it happen?... Maksim the foreman?' +</p> + +<p> +'The foreman, sir. We'd started cutting an ash-tree, and he was standing +looking on.... He stood there a bit, and then off he went to the well +for some water--wanted a drink, seemingly--when suddenly the ash-tree +began creaking and coming straight towards him. We shout to him: 'Run, +run, run!'.... He should have rushed to one side, but he up and ran +straight before him.... He was scared, to be sure. The ash-tree covered +him with its top branches. But why it fell so soon, the Lord only +knows!... Perhaps it was rotten at the core.' +</p> + +<p> +'And so it crushed Maksim?' +</p> + +<p> +'Yes, sir.' +</p> + +<p> +'To death?' +</p> + +<p> +'No, sir, he's still alive--but as good as dead; his arms and legs are +crushed. I was running for Seliverstitch, for the doctor.' +</p> + +<p> +Ardalion Mihalitch told the constable to gallop to the village for +Seliverstitch, while he himself pushed on at a quick trot to the +clearing.... I followed him. +</p> + +<p> +We found poor Maksim on the ground. The peasants were standing about +him. We got off our horses. He hardly moaned at all; from time to time +he opened his eyes wide, looked round, as it were, in astonishment, and +bit his lips, fast turning blue.... The lower part of his face was +twitching; his hair was matted on his brow; his breast heaved +irregularly: he was dying. The light shade of a young lime-tree glided +softly over his face. +</p> + +<p> +We bent down to him. He recognised Ardalion Mihalitch. +</p> + +<p> +'Please sir,' he said to him, hardly articulately, 'send... for the +priest... tell... the Lord... has punished me... arms, legs, all +smashed... to-day's... Sunday... and I... I... see... didn't let +the lads off... work.' +</p> + +<p> +He ceased, out of breath. +</p> + +<p> +'And my money... for my wife... after deducting.... Onesim here knows... +whom I... what I owe.' +</p> + +<p> +'We've sent for the doctor, Maksim,' said my neighbour; 'perhaps you may +not die yet.' +</p> + +<p> +He tried to open his eyes, and with an effort raised the lids. +</p> + +<p> +'No, I'm dying. Here... here it is coming... here it.... Forgive me, +lads, if in any way....' +</p> + +<p> +'God will forgive you, Maksim Andreitch,' said the peasants thickly with +one voice, and they took off their caps; 'do you forgive us!' +</p> + +<p> +He suddenly shook his head despairingly, his breast heaved with a +painful effort, and he fell back again. +</p> + +<p> +'We can't let him lie here and die, though,' cried Ardalion Mihalitch; +'lads, give us the mat from the cart, and carry him to the hospital.' +</p> + +<p> +Two men ran to the cart. +</p> + +<p> +'I bought a horse... yesterday,' faltered the dying man, 'off Efim... +Sitchovsky... paid earnest money... so the horse is mine.... Give it... +to my wife....' +</p> + +<p> +They began to move him on to the mat.... He trembled all over, like a +wounded bird, and stiffened.... +</p> + +<p> +'He is dead,' muttered the peasants. +</p> + +<p> +We mounted our horses in silence and rode away. +</p> + +<p> +The death of poor Maksim set me musing. How wonderfully indeed the +Russian peasant dies! The temper in which he meets his end cannot be +called indifference or stolidity; he dies as though he were performing a +solemn rite, coolly and simply. +</p> + +<p> +A few years ago a peasant belonging to another neighbour of mine in the +country got burnt in the drying shed, where the corn is put. (He would +have remained there, but a passing pedlar pulled him out half-dead; he +plunged into a tub of water, and with a run broke down the door of the +burning outhouse.) I went to his hut to see him. It was dark, smoky, +stifling, in the hut. I asked, 'Where is the sick man?' 'There, sir, on +the stove,' the sorrowing peasant woman answered me in a sing-song +voice. I went up; the peasant was lying covered with a sheepskin, +breathing heavily. 'Well, how do you feel?' The injured man stirred on +the stove; all over burns, within sight of death as he was, tried to +rise. 'Lie still, lie still, lie still.... Well, how are you?' 'In a bad +way, surely,' said he. 'Are you in pain?' No answer. 'Is there anything +you want?'--No answer. 'Shouldn't I send you some tea, or anything.' +'There's no need.' I moved away from him and sat down on the bench. I +sat there a quarter of an hour; I sat there half an hour--the silence of +the tomb in the hut. In the corner behind the table under the holy +pictures crouched a little girl of twelve years old, eating a piece of +bread. Her mother threatened her every now and then. In the outer room +there was coming and going, noise and talk: the brother's wife was +chopping cabbage. 'Hey, Aksinya,' said the injured man at last. 'What?' +'Some kvas.'Aksinya gave him some kvas. Silence again. I asked in a +whisper, 'Have they given him the sacrament?' 'Yes.' So, then, +everything was in order: he was waiting for death, that was all. I could +not bear it, and went away.... +</p> + +<p> +Again, I recall how I went one day to the hospital in the village of +Krasnogorye to see the surgeon Kapiton, a friend of mine, and an +enthusiastic sportsman. +</p> + +<p> +This hospital consisted of what had once been the lodge of the +manor-house; the lady of the manor had founded it herself; in other +words, she ordered a blue board to be nailed up above the door with an +inscription in white letters: 'Krasnogorye Hospital,' and had herself +handed to Kapiton a red album to record the names of the patients in. On +the first page of this album one of the toadying parasites of this Lady +Bountiful had inscribed the following lines: +</p> + +<p class="poem"> + 'Dans ces beaux lieux, où règne l'allégresse<br /> + Ce temple fut ouvert par la Beauté;<br /> + De vos seigneurs admirez la tendresse<br /> + Bons habitants de Krasnogorié!'<br /> +</p> + +<p><br /></p> + +<p class="noindent"> +while another gentleman had written below: +</p> + +<p class="poem"> + 'Et moi aussi j'aime la nature!<br /> + JEAN KOBYLIATNIKOFF.'<br /> +</p> + +<p><br /></p> + +<p> +The surgeon bought six beds at his own expense, and had set to work in a +thankful spirit to heal God's people. Besides him, the staff consisted +of two persons; an engraver, Pavel, liable to attacks of insanity, and a +one-armed peasant woman, Melikitrisa, who performed the duties of cook. +Both of them mixed the medicines and dried and infused herbs; they, too, +controlled the patients when they were delirious. The insane engraver +was sullen in appearance and sparing of words; at night he would sing a +song about 'lovely Venus,' and would besiege every one he met with a +request for permission to marry a girl called Malanya, who had long been +dead. The one-armed peasant woman used to beat him and set him to look +after the turkeys. Well, one day I was at Kapiton's. We had begun +talking over our last day's shooting, when suddenly a cart drove into +the yard, drawn by an exceptionally stout horse, such as are only found +belonging to millers. In the cart sat a thick-set peasant, in a new +greatcoat, with a beard streaked with grey. 'Hullo, Vassily Dmitritch,' +Kapiton shouted from the window; 'please come in.... The miller of +Liobovshin,' he whispered to me. The peasant climbed groaning out of the +cart, came into the surgeon's room, and after looking for the holy +pictures, crossed himself, bowing to them. 'Well, Vassily Dmitritch, any +news?... But you must be ill; you don't look well.' 'Yes, Kapiton +Timofeitch, there's something not right.' 'What's wrong with you?' +'Well, it was like this, Kapiton Timofeitch. Not long ago I bought some +mill-stones in the town, so I took them home, and as I went to lift them +out of the cart, I strained myself, or something; I'd a sort of rick in +the loins, as though something had been torn away, and ever since I've +been out of sorts. To-day I feel worse than ever.' 'Hm,' commented +Kapiton, and he took a pinch of snuff; 'that's a rupture, no doubt. But +is it long since this happened?' 'It's ten days now.' 'Ten days?' (The +surgeon drew a long inward breath and shook his head.) 'Let me examine +you.' 'Well, Vassily Dmitritch,' he pronounced at last, 'I am sorry for +you, heartily sorry, but things aren't right with you at all; you're +seriously ill; stay here with me; I will do everything I can, for my +part, though I can't answer for anything.' 'So bad as that?' muttered +the astounded peasant. 'Yes, Vassily Dmitritch, it is bad; if you'd come +to me a day or two sooner, it would have been nothing much; I could have +cured you in a trice; but now inflammation has set in; before we know +where we are, there'll be mortification.' 'But it can't be, Kapiton +Timofeitch.' 'I tell you it is so.' 'But how comes it?' (The surgeon +shrugged his shoulders.) 'And I must die for a trifle like that?' 'I +don't say that... only you must stop here.' The peasant pondered and +pondered, his eyes fixed on the floor, then he glanced up at us, +scratched his head, and picked up his cap. 'Where are you off to, +Vassily Dmitritch?' 'Where? why, home to be sure, if it's so bad. I must +put things to rights, if it's like that.' 'But you'll do yourself harm, +Vassily Dmitritch; you will, really; I'm surprised how you managed to +get here; you must stop.' 'No, brother, Kapiton Timofeitch, if I must +die, I'll die at home; why die here? I've got a home, and the Lord knows +how it will end.' 'No one can tell yet, Vassily Dmitritch, how it will +end.... Of course, there is danger, considerable danger; there's no +disputing that... but for that reason you ought to stay here.' (The +peasant shook his head.) 'No, Kapiton Timofeitch, I won't stay... but +perhaps you will prescribe me a medicine.' 'Medicine alone will be no +good.' 'I won't stay, I tell you.' 'Well, as you like.... Mind you don't +blame me for it afterwards.' +</p> + +<p> +The surgeon tore a page out of the album, and, writing out a +prescription, gave him some advice as to what he could do besides. The +peasant took the sheet of paper, gave Kapiton half-a-rouble, went out of +the room, and took his seat in the cart. 'Well, good-bye, Kapiton +Timofeitch, don't remember evil against me, and remember my orphans, if +anything....' 'Oh, do stay, Vassily!' The peasant simply shook his head, +struck the horse with the reins, and drove out of the yard. The road was +muddy and full of holes; the miller drove cautiously, without hurry, +guiding his horse skilfully, and nodding to the acquaintances he met. +Three days later he was dead. +</p> + +<p> +The Russians, in general, meet death in a marvellous way. Many of the +dead come back now to my memory. I recall you, my old friend, who left +the university with no degree, Avenir Sorokoumov, noblest, best of men! +I see once again your sickly, consumptive face, your lank brown tresses, +your gentle smile, your ecstatic glance, your long limbs; I can hear +your weak, caressing voice. You lived at a Great Russian landowner's, +called Gur Krupyanikov, taught his children, Fofa and Zyozya, Russian +grammar, geography, and history, patiently bore all the ponderous jokes +of the said Gur, the coarse familiarities of the steward, the vulgar +pranks of the spiteful urchins; with a bitter smile, but without +repining, you complied with the caprices of their bored and exacting +mother; but to make up for it all, what bliss, what peace was yours in +the evening, after supper, when, free at last of all duties, you sat at +the window pensively smoking a pipe, or greedily turned the pages of a +greasy and mutilated number of some solid magazine, brought you from the +town by the land-surveyor--just such another poor, homeless devil as +yourself! How delighted you were then with any sort of poem or novel; +how readily the tears started into your eyes; with what pleasure you +laughed; what genuine love for others, what generous sympathy for +everything good and noble, filled your pure youthful soul! One must tell +the truth: you were not distinguished by excessive sharpness of wit; +Nature had endowed you with neither memory nor industry; at the +university you were regarded as one of the least promising students; at +lectures you slumbered, at examinations you preserved a solemn silence; +but who was beaming with delight and breathless with excitement at a +friend's success, a friend's triumphs?... Avenir!... Who had a blind +faith in the lofty destiny of his friends? who extolled them with pride? +who championed them with angry vehemence? who was innocent of envy as of +vanity? who was ready for the most disinterested self-sacrifice? who +eagerly gave way to men who were not worthy to untie his latchet?... +That was you, all you, our good Avenir! I remember how broken-heartedly +you parted from your comrades, when you were going away to be a tutor in +the country; you were haunted by presentiment of evil.... And, indeed, +your lot was a sad one in the country; you had no one there to listen to +with veneration, no one to admire, no one to love.... The +neighbours--rude sons of the steppes, and polished gentlemen +alike--treated you as a tutor: some, with rudeness and neglect, others +carelessly. Besides, you were not pre-possessing in person; you were +shy, given to blushing, getting hot and stammering.... Even your health +was no better for the country air: you wasted like a candle, poor +fellow! It is true your room looked out into the garden; wild cherries, +apple-trees, and limes strewed their delicate blossoms on your table, +your ink-stand, your books; on the wall hung a blue silk watch-pocket, a +parting present from a kind-hearted, sentimental German governess with +flaxen curls and little blue eyes; and sometimes an old friend from +Moscow would come out to you and throw you into ecstasies with new +poetry, often even with his own. But, oh, the loneliness, the +insufferable slavery of a tutor's lot! the impossibility of escape, the +endless autumns and winters, the ever-advancing disease!... Poor, poor +Avenir! +</p> + +<p> +I paid Sorokoumov a visit not long before his death. He was then hardly +able to walk. The landowner, Gur Krupyanikov, had not turned him out of +the house, but had given up paying him a salary, and had taken another +tutor for Zyozya.... Fofa had been sent to a school of cadets. Avenir +was sitting near the window in an old easy-chair. It was exquisite +weather. The clear autumn sky was a bright blue above the dark-brown +line of bare limes; here and there a few last leaves of lurid gold +rustled and whispered about them. The earth had been covered with frost, +now melting into dewdrops in the sun, whose ruddy rays fell aslant +across the pale grass; there was a faint crisp resonance in the air; the +voices of the labourers in the garden reached us clearly and distinctly. +Avenir wore an old Bokhara dressing-gown; a green neckerchief threw a +deathly hue over his terribly sunken face. He was greatly delighted to +see me, held out his hand, began talking and coughing at once. I made +him be quiet, and sat down by him.... On Avenir's knee lay a manuscript +book of Koltsov's poems, carefully copied out; he patted it with a +smile. 'That's a poet,' he stammered, with an effort repressing his +cough; and he fell to declaiming in a voice scarcely audible: +</p> + +<p class="poem"> + 'Can the eagle's wings<br /> + Be chained and fettered?<br /> + Can the pathways of heaven<br /> + Be closed against him?'<br /> +</p> + +<p><br /></p> + +<p> +I stopped him: the doctor had forbidden him to talk. I knew what would +please him. Sorokoumov never, as they say, 'kept up' with the science of +the day; but he was always anxious to know what results the leading +intellects had reached. Sometimes he would get an old friend into a +corner and begin questioning him; he would listen and wonder, take every +word on trust, and even repeat it all after him. He took a special +interest in German philosophy. I began discoursing to him about Hegel +(this all happened long ago, as you may gather). Avenir nodded his head +approvingly, raised his eyebrows, smiled, and whispered: 'I see! I see! +ah, that's splendid! splendid!'... The childish curiosity of this poor, +dying, homeless outcast, moved me, I confess, to tears. It must be noted +that Avenir, unlike the general run of consumptives, did not deceive +himself in regard to his disease.... But what of that?--he did not sigh, +nor grieve; he did not even once refer to his position.... +</p> + +<p> +Rallying his strength, he began talking of Moscow, of old friends, of +Pushkin, of the drama, of Russian literature; he recalled our little +suppers, the heated debates of our circle; with regret he uttered the +names of two or three friends who were dead.... +</p> + +<p> +'Do you remember Dasha?' he went on. 'Ah, there was a heart of pure +gold! What a heart! and how she loved me!... What has become of her now? +Wasted and fallen away, poor dear, I daresay!' +</p> + +<p> +I had not the courage to disillusion the sick man; and, indeed, why +should he know that his Dasha was now broader than she was long, and +that she was living under the protection of some merchants, the brothers +Kondatchkov, that she used powder and paint, and was for ever swearing +and scolding? +</p> + +<p> +'But can't we,' I thought, looking at his wasted face, 'get him away +from here? Perhaps there may still be a chance of curing him.' But +Avenir cut short my suggestion. +</p> + +<p> +'No, brother, thanks,' he said; 'it makes no difference where one dies. +I shan't live till the winter, you see.... Why give trouble for nothing? +I'm used to this house. It's true the people...' +</p> + +<p> +'They're unkind, eh?' I put in. +</p> + +<p> +'No, not unkind! but wooden-headed creatures. However, I can't complain +of them. There are neighbours: there's a Mr. Kasatkin's daughter, a +cultivated, kind, charming girl... not proud...' +</p> + +<p> +Sorokoumov began coughing again. +</p> + +<p> +'I shouldn't mind anything,' he went on, after taking breath, 'if they'd +only let me smoke my pipe.... But I'll have my pipe, if I die for it!' +he added, with a sly wink. 'Thank God, I have had life enough! I have +known so many fine people. +</p> + +<p> +'But you should, at least, write to your relations,' I interrupted. +</p> + +<p> +'Why write to them? They can't be any help; when I die they'll hear of +it. But, why talk about it... I'd rather you'd tell me what you saw +abroad.' +</p> + +<p> +I began to tell him my experiences. He seemed positively to gloat over +my story. Towards evening I left, and ten days later I received the +following letter from Mr. Krupyanikov: +</p> + +<p> +'I have the honour to inform you, my dear sir, that your friend, the +student, living in my house, Mr. Avenir Sorokoumov, died at two o'clock +in the afternoon, three days ago, and was buried to-day, at my expense, +in the parish church. He asked me to forward you the books and +manuscripts enclosed herewith. He was found to have twenty-two roubles +and a half, which, with the rest of his belongings, pass into the +possession of his relatives. Your friend died fully conscious, and, I +may say, with so little sensibility that he showed no signs of regret +even when the whole family of us took a last farewell of him. My wife, +Kleopatra Aleksandrovna, sends you her regards. The death of your friend +has, of course, affected her nerves; as regards myself, I am, thank God, +in good health, and have the honour to remain, your humble servant,' +</p> + +<p> +'G. KRUPYANIKOV.' +</p> + +<p> +Many more examples recur to me, but one cannot relate everything. I will +confine myself to one. +</p> + +<p> +I was present at an old lady's death-bed; the priest had begun reading +the prayers for the dying over her, but, suddenly noticing that the +patient seemed to be actually dying, he made haste to give her the cross +to kiss. The lady turned away with an air of displeasure. 'You're in too +great a hurry, father,' she said, in a voice almost inarticulate; 'in +too great a hurry.'... She kissed the cross, put her hand under the +pillow and expired. Under the pillow was a silver rouble; she had meant +to pay the priest for the service at her own death.... +</p> + +<p> +Yes, the Russians die in a wonderful way. +</p> + +<p><br /><br /><br /></p> + +<h3> +<a id="chap17"></a> +XVII +</h3> + +<h3> +THE SINGERS +</h3> + +<p> +The small village of Kolotovka once belonged to a lady known in the +neighbourhood by the nickname of Skin-flint, in illusion to her keen +business habits (her real name is lost in oblivion), but has of late +years been the property of a German from Petersburg. The village lies on +the slope of a barren hill, which is cut in half from top to bottom by a +tremendous ravine. It is a yawning chasm, with shelving sides hollowed +out by the action of rain and snow, and it winds along the very centre +of the village street; it separates the two sides of the unlucky hamlet +far more than a river would do, for a river could, at least, be crossed +by a bridge. A few gaunt willows creep timorously down its sandy sides; +at the very bottom, which is dry and yellow as copper, lie huge slabs of +argillaceous rock. A cheerless position, there's no denying, yet all the +surrounding inhabitants know the road to Kolotovka well; they go there +often, and are always glad to go. +</p> + +<p> +At the very summit of the ravine, a few paces from the point where it +starts as a narrow fissure in the earth, there stands a small square +hut. It stands alone, apart from all the others. It is thatched, and has +a chimney; one window keeps watch like a sharp eye over the ravine, and +on winter evenings when it is lighted from within, it is seen far away +in the dim frosty fog, and its twinkling light is the guiding star of +many a peasant on his road. A blue board is nailed up above the door; +this hut is a tavern, called the 'Welcome Resort.' Spirits are sold here +probably no cheaper than the usual price, but it is far more frequented +than any other establishment of the same sort in the neighbourhood. The +explanation of this is to be found in the tavern-keeper, Nikolai +Ivanitch. +</p> + +<p> +Nikolai Ivanitch--once a slender, curly-headed and rosy-cheeked young +fellow, now an excessively stout, grizzled man with a fat face, sly and +good-natured little eyes, and a shiny forehead, with wrinkles like lines +drawn all over it--has lived for more than twenty years in Kolotovka. +Nikolai Ivanitch is a shrewd, acute fellow, like the majority of +tavern-keepers. Though he makes no conspicuous effort to please or to +talk to people, he has the art of attracting and keeping customers, who +find it particularly pleasant to sit at his bar under the placid and +genial, though alert eye, of the phlegmatic host. He has a great deal of +common sense; he thoroughly understands the landowner's conditions of +life, the peasant's, and the tradesman's. He could give sensible advice +on difficult points, but, like a cautious man and an egoist, prefers to +stand aloof, and at most--and that only in the case of his favourite +customers--by remote hints, dropped, as it were, unintentionally, to +lead them into the true way. He is an authority on everything that is of +interest or importance to a Russian; on horses and cattle, on timber, +bricks, and crockery, on woollen stuffs and on leather, on songs and +dances. When he has no customers he is usually sitting like a sack on +the ground before the door of his hut, his thin legs tucked under him, +exchanging a friendly greeting with every passer-by. He has seen a great +deal in his time; many a score of petty landowners, who used to come to +him for spirits, he has seen pass away before him; he knows everything +that is done for eighty miles round, and never gossips, never gives a +sign of knowing what is unsuspected by the most keen-sighted +police-officer. He keeps his own counsel, laughs, and makes his glasses +ring. His neighbours respect him; the civilian general Shtcherpetenko, +the landowner highest in rank in the district, gives him a condescending +nod whenever he drives past his little house. Nikolai Ivanitch is a man +of influence; he made a notorious horse-stealer return a horse he had +taken from the stable of one of his friends; he brought the peasants of +a neighbouring village to their senses when they refused to accept a new +overseer, and so on. It must not be imagined, though, that he does this +from love of justice, from devotion to his neighbour--no! he simply +tries to prevent anything that might, in any way, interfere with his +ease and comfort. Nikolai Ivanitch is married, and has children. His +wife, a smart, sharp-nosed and keen-eyed woman of the tradesman class, +has grown somewhat stout of late years, like her husband. He relies on +her in everything, and she keeps the key of the cash-box. Drunken +brawlers are afraid of her; she does not like them; they bring little +profit and make a great deal of noise: those who are taciturn and surly +in their cups are more to her taste. Nikolai Ivanitch's children are +still small; the first four all died, but those that are left take after +their parents: it is a pleasure to look at their intelligent, healthy +little faces. +</p> + +<p> +It was an insufferably hot day in July when, slowly dragging my feet +along, I went up alongside the Kolotovka ravine with my dog towards the +Welcome Resort. The sun blazed, as it were, fiercely in the sky, baking +the parched earth relentlessly; the air was thick with stifling dust. +Glossy crows and ravens with gaping beaks looked plaintively at the +passers-by, as though asking for sympathy; only the sparrows did not +droop, but, pluming their feathers, twittered more vigorously than ever +as they quarrelled among the hedges, or flew up all together from the +dusty road, and hovered in grey clouds over the green hempfields. I was +tormented by thirst. There was no water near: in Kolotovka, as in many +other villages of the steppes, the peasants, having no spring or well, +drink a sort of thin mud out of the pond.... For no one could call that +repulsive beverage water. I wanted to ask for a glass of beer or kvas at +Nikolai Ivanitch's. +</p> + +<p> +It must be confessed that at no time of the year does Kolotovka present +a very cheering spectacle; but it has a particularly depressing effect +when the relentless rays of a dazzling July sun pour down full upon the +brown, tumble-down roofs of the houses and the deep ravine, and the +parched, dusty common over which the thin, long-legged hens are straying +hopelessly, and the remains of the old manor-house, now a hollow, grey +framework of aspenwood, with holes instead of windows, overgrown with +nettles, wormwood, and rank grass, and the pond black, as though charred +and covered with goose feathers, with its edge of half-dried mud, and +its broken-down dyke, near which, on the finely trodden, ash-like earth, +sheep, breathless and gasping with the heat, huddle dejectedly together, +their heads drooping with weary patience, as though waiting for this +insufferable heat to pass at last. With weary steps I drew near Nikolai +Ivanitch's dwelling, arousing in the village children the usual wonder +manifested in a concentrated, meaningless stare, and in the dogs an +indignation expressed in such hoarse and furious barking that it seemed +as if it were tearing their very entrails, and left them breathless and +choking, when suddenly in the tavern doorway there appeared a tall +peasant without a cap, in a frieze cloak, girt about below his waist +with a blue handkerchief. He looked like a house-serf; thick grey hair +stood up in disorder above his withered and wrinkled face. He was +calling to some one hurriedly, waving his arms, which obviously were not +quite under his control. It could be seen that he had been drinking +already. +</p> + +<p> +'Come, come along!' he stammered, raising his shaggy eyebrows with an +effort. 'Come, Blinkard, come along! Ah, brother, how you creep along, +'pon my word! It's too bad, brother. They're waiting for you within, and +here you crawl along.... Come.' +</p> + +<p> +'Well, I'm coming, I'm coming!' called a jarring voice, and from behind +a hut a little, short, fat, lame man came into sight. He wore a rather +tidy cloth coat, pulled half on, and a high pointed cap right over his +brows, which gave his round plump face a sly and comic expression. His +little yellow eyes moved restlessly about, his thin lips wore a +continual forced smile, while his sharp, long nose peered forward +saucily in front like a rudder. 'I'm coming, my dear fellow.' He went +hobbling towards the tavern. 'What are you calling me for?... Who's +waiting for me?' +</p> + +<p> +'What am I calling you for?' repeated the man in the frieze coat +reproachfully.' You're a queer fish, Blinkard: we call you to come to +the tavern, and you ask what for? Here are honest folks all waiting for +you: Yashka the Turk, and the Wild Master, and the booth-keeper from +Zhizdry. Yashka's got a bet on with the booth-keeper: the stake's a pot +of beer--for the one that does best, sings the best, I mean... do you +see?' +</p> + +<p> +'Is Yashka going to sing?' said the man addressed as Blinkard, with +lively interest. 'But isn't it your humbug, Gabbler?' +</p> + +<p> +'I'm not humbugging,' answered the Gabbler, with dignity; 'it's you are +crazy. I should think he would sing since he's got a bet on it, you +precious innocent, you noodle, Blinkard!' +</p> + +<p> +'Well, come in, simpleton!' retorted the Blinkard. +</p> + +<p> +'Then give us a kiss at least, lovey,' stammered the Gabbler, opening +wide his arms. +</p> + +<p> +'Get out, you great softy!' responded the Blinkard contemptuously, +giving him a poke with his elbow, and both, stooping, entered the low +doorway. +</p> + +<p> +The conversation I had overheard roused my curiosity exceedingly. More +than once rumours had reached me of Yashka the Turk as the best singer +in the vicinity, and here was an opportunity all at once of hearing him +in competition with another master of the art. I quickened my steps and +went into the house. +</p> + +<p> +Few of my readers have probably had an opportunity of getting a good +view of any village taverns, but we sportsmen go everywhere. They are +constructed on an exceedingly simple plan. They usually consist of a +dark outer-shed, and an inner room with a chimney, divided in two by a +partition, behind which none of the customers have a right to go. In +this partition there is a wide opening cut above a broad oak table. At +this table or bar the spirits are served. Sealed up bottles of various +sizes stand on the shelves, right opposite the opening. In the front +part of the room, devoted to customers, there are benches, two or three +empty barrels, and a corner table. Village taverns are for the most part +rather dark, and you hardly ever see on their wainscotted walls any of +the glaring cheap prints which few huts are without. +</p> + +<p> +When I went into the Welcome Resort, a fairly large party were already +assembled there. +</p> + +<p> +In his usual place behind the bar, almost filling up the entire opening +in the partition, stood Nikolai Ivanitch in a striped print shirt; with +a lazy smile on his full face, he poured out with his plump white hand +two glasses of spirits for the Blinkard and the Gabbler as they came in; +behind him, in a corner near the window, could be seen his sharp-eyed +wife. In the middle of the room was standing Yashka the Turk, a thin, +graceful fellow of three-and-twenty, dressed in a long skirted coat of +blue nankin. He looked a smart factory hand, and could not, to judge by +his appearance, boast of very good health. His hollow cheeks, his large, +restless grey eyes, his straight nose, with its delicate mobile +nostrils, his pale brown curls brushed back over the sloping white brow, +his full but beautiful, expressive lips, and his whole face betrayed a +passionate and sensitive nature. He was in a state of great excitement; +he blinked, his breathing was hurried, his hands shook, as though in +fever, and he was really in a fever--that sudden fever of excitement +which is so well-known to all who have to speak and sing before an +audience. Near him stood a man of about forty, with broad shoulders and +broad jaws, with a low forehead, narrow Tartar eyes, a short flat nose, +a square chin, and shining black hair coarse as bristles. The expression +of his face--a swarthy face, with a sort of leaden hue in it--and +especially of his pale lips, might almost have been called savage, if it +had not been so still and dreamy. He hardly stirred a muscle; he only +looked slowly about him like a bull under the yoke. He was dressed in a +sort of surtout, not over new, with smooth brass buttons; an old black +silk handkerchief was twisted round his immense neck. He was called the +Wild Master. Right opposite him, on a bench under the holy pictures, was +sitting Yashka's rival, the booth-keeper from Zhizdry; he was a short, +stoutly-built man about thirty, pock-marked, and curly-headed, with a +blunt, turn-up nose, lively brown eyes, and a scanty beard. He looked +keenly about him, and, sitting with his hands under him, he kept +carelessly swinging his legs and tapping with his feet, which were +encased in stylish top-boots with a coloured edging. He wore a new thin +coat of grey cloth, with a plush collar, in sharp contrast with the +crimson shirt below, buttoned close across the chest. In the opposite +corner, to the right of the door, a peasant sat at the table in a +narrow, shabby smock-frock, with a huge rent on the shoulder. The +sunlight fell in a narrow, yellowish streak through the dusty panes of +the two small windows, but it seemed as if it struggled in vain with the +habitual darkness of the room; all the objects in it were dimly, as it +were, patchily lighted up. On the other hand, it was almost cool in the +room, and the sense of stifling heat dropped off me like a weary load +directly I crossed the threshold. +</p> + +<p> +My entrance, I could see, was at first somewhat disconcerting to Nikolai +Ivanitch's customers; but observing that he greeted me as a friend, they +were reassured, and took no more notice of me. I asked for some beer and +sat down in the corner, near the peasant in the ragged smock. +</p> + +<p> +'Well, well,' piped the Gabbler, suddenly draining a glass of spirits at +one gulp, and accompanying his exclamation with the strange +gesticulations, without which he seemed unable to utter a single word; +'what are we waiting for? If we're going to begin, then begin. Hey, +Yasha?' +</p> + +<p> +'Begin, begin,' chimed in Nikolai Ivanitch approvingly. +</p> + +<p> +'Let's begin, by all means,' observed the booth-keeper coolly, with a +self-confident smile; 'I'm ready.' +</p> + +<p> +'And I'm ready,' Yakov pronounced in a voice thrilled with excitement. +</p> + +<p> +'Well, begin, lads,' whined the Blinkard. But, in spite of the +unanimously expressed desire, neither began; the booth-keeper did not +even get up from the bench--they all seemed to be waiting for something. +</p> + +<p> +'Begin!' said the Wild Master sharply and sullenly. Yashka started. The +booth-keeper pulled down his girdle and cleared his throat. +</p> + +<p> +'But who's to begin?' he inquired in a slightly changed voice of the +Wild Master, who still stood motionless in the middle of the room, his +stalwart legs wide apart and his powerful arms thrust up to the elbow +into his breeches pockets. +</p> + +<p> +'You, you, booth-keeper,' stammered the Gabbler; 'you, to be sure, +brother.' +</p> + +<p> +The Wild Master looked at him from under his brows. The Gabbler gave a +faint squeak, in confusion looked away at the ceiling, twitched his +shoulder, and said no more. +</p> + +<p> +'Cast lots,' the Wild Master pronounced emphatically; 'and the pot on +the table.' +</p> + +<p> +Nikolai Ivanitch bent down, and with a gasp picked up the pot of beer +from the floor and set it on the table. +</p> + +<p> +The Wild Master glanced at Yakov, and said 'Come!' +</p> + +<p> +Yakov fumbled in his pockets, took out a halfpenny, and marked it with +his teeth. The booth-keeper pulled from under the skirts of his long +coat a new leather purse, deliberately untied the string, and shaking +out a quantity of small change into his hand, picked out a new +halfpenny. The Gabbler held out his dirty cap, with its broken peak +hanging loose; Yakov dropped his halfpenny in, and the booth-keeper his. +</p> + +<p> +'You must pick out one,' said the Wild Master, turning to the Blinkard. +</p> + +<p> +The Blinkard smiled complacently, took the cap in both hands, and began +shaking it. +</p> + +<p> +For an instant a profound silence reigned; the halfpennies clinked +faintly, jingling against each other. I looked round attentively; every +face wore an expression of intense expectation; the Wild Master himself +showed signs of uneasiness; my neighbour, even, the peasant in the +tattered smock, craned his neck inquisitively. The Blinkard put his hand +into the cap and took out the booth-keeper's halfpenny; every one drew a +long breath. Yakov flushed, and the booth-keeper passed his hand over +his hair. +</p> + +<p> +'There, I said you'd begin,' cried the Gabbler; 'didn't I say so?' +</p> + +<p> +'There, there, don't cluck,' remarked the Wild Master contemptuously. +'Begin,' he went on, with a nod to the booth-keeper. +</p> + +<p> +'What song am I to sing?' asked the booth-keeper, beginning to be +nervous. +</p> + +<p> +'What you choose,' answered the Blinkard; 'sing what you think best.' +</p> + +<p> +'What you choose, to be sure,' Nikolai Ivanitch chimed in, slowly +smoothing his hand on his breast, 'you're quite at liberty about that. +Sing what you like; only sing well; and we'll give a fair decision +afterwards.' +</p> + +<p> +'A fair decision, of course,' put in the Gabbler, licking the edge of +his empty glass. +</p> + +<p> +'Let me clear my throat a bit, mates,' said the booth-keeper, fingering +the collar of his coat. +</p> + +<p> +'Come, come, no nonsense--begin!' protested the Wild Master, and he +looked down. +</p> + +<p> +The booth-keeper thought a minute, shook his head, and stepped forward. +Yakov's eyes were riveted upon him. +</p> + +<p> +But before I enter upon a description of the contest itself, I think it +will not be amiss to say a few words about each of the personages taking +part in my story. The lives of some of them were known to me already +when I met them in the Welcome Resort; I collected some facts about the +others later on. +</p> + +<p> +Let us begin with the Gabbler. This man's real name was Evgraf +Ivanovitch; but no one in the whole neighbourhood knew him as anything +but the Gabbler, and he himself referred to himself by that nickname; so +well did it fit him. Indeed, nothing could have been more appropriate to +his insignificant, ever-restless features. He was a dissipated, +unmarried house-serf, whose own masters had long ago got rid of him, and +who, without any employment, without earning a halfpenny, found means to +get drunk every day at other people's expense. He had a great number of +acquaintances who treated him to drinks of spirits and tea, though they +could not have said why they did so themselves; for, far from being +entertaining in company, he bored every one with his meaningless +chatter, his insufferable familiarity, his spasmodic gestures and +incessant, unnatural laugh. He could neither sing nor dance; he had +never said a clever, or even a sensible thing in his life; he chattered +away, telling lies about everything--a regular Gabbler! And yet not a +single drinking party for thirty miles around took place without his +lank figure turning up among the guests; so that they were used to him +by now, and put up with his presence as a necessary evil. They all, it +is true, treated him with contempt; but the Wild Master was the only one +who knew how to keep his foolish sallies in check. +</p> + +<p> +The Blinkard was not in the least like the Gabbler. His nickname, too, +suited him, though he was no more given to blinking than other people; +it is a well-known fact, that the Russian peasants have a talent for +finding good nicknames. In spite of my endeavours to get more detailed +information about this man's past, many passages in his life have +remained spots of darkness to me, and probably to many other people; +episodes, buried, as the bookmen say, in the darkness of oblivion. I +could only find out that he was once a coachman in the service of an old +childless lady; that he had run away with three horses he was in charge +of; had been lost for a whole year, and no doubt, convinced by +experience of the drawbacks and hardships of a wandering life, he had +gone back, a cripple, and flung himself at his mistress's feet. He +succeeded in a few years in smoothing over his offence by his exemplary +conduct, and, gradually getting higher in her favour, at last gained her +complete confidence, was made a bailiff, and on his mistress's death, +turned out--in what way was never known--to have received his freedom. +He got admitted into the class of tradesmen; rented patches of market +garden from the neighbours; grew rich, and now was living in ease and +comfort. He was a man of experience, who knew on which side his bread +was buttered; was more actuated by prudence than by either good or +ill-nature; had knocked about, understood men, and knew how to turn them +to his own advantage. He was cautious, and at the same time +enterprising, like a fox; though he was as fond of gossip as an old +woman, he never let out his own affairs, while he made everyone else +talk freely of theirs. He did not affect to be a simpleton, though, as +so many crafty men of his sort do; indeed it would have been difficult +for him to take any one in, in that way; I have never seen a sharper, +keener pair of eyes than his tiny cunning little 'peepers,' as they call +them in Orel. They were never simply looking about; they were always +looking one up and down and through and through. The Blinkard would +sometimes ponder for weeks together over some apparently simple +undertaking, and again he would suddenly decide on a desperately bold +line of action, which one would fancy would bring him to ruin.... But it +would be sure to turn out all right; everything would go smoothly. He +was lucky, and believed in his own luck, and believed in omens. He was +exceedingly superstitious in general. He was not liked, because he would +have nothing much to do with anyone, but he was respected. His whole +family consisted of one little son, whom he idolised, and who, brought +up by such a father, is likely to get on in the world. 'Little +Blinkard'll be his father over again,' is said of him already, in +undertones by the old men, as they sit on their mud walls gossiping on +summer evenings, and every one knows what that means; there is no need +to say more. +</p> + +<p> +As to Yashka the Turk and the booth-keeper, there is no need to say much +about them. Yakov, called the Turk because he actually was descended +from a Turkish woman, a prisoner from the war, was by nature an artist +in every sense of the word, and by calling, a ladler in a paper factory +belonging to a merchant. As for the booth-keeper, his career, I must +own, I know nothing of; he struck me as being a smart townsman of the +tradesman class, ready to turn his hand to anything. But the Wild Master +calls for a more detailed account. +</p> + +<p> +The first impression the sight of this man produced on you was a sense +of coarse, heavy, irresistible power. He was clumsily built, a +'shambler,' as they say about us, but there was an air of triumphant +vigour about him, and--strange to say--his bear-like figure was not +without a certain grace of its own, proceeding, perhaps, from his +absolutely placid confidence in his own strength. It was hard to decide +at first to what class this Hercules belonged: he did not look like a +house-serf, nor a tradesman, nor an impoverished clerk out of work, nor +a small ruined landowner, such as takes to being a huntsman or a +fighting man; he was, in fact, quite individual. No one knew where he +came from or what brought him into our district; it was said that he +came of free peasant-proprietor stock, and had once been in the +government service somewhere, but nothing positive was known about this; +and indeed there was no one from whom one could learn--certainly not +from him; he was the most silent and morose of men. So much so that no +one knew for certain what he lived on; he followed no trade, visited no +one, associated with scarcely anyone; yet he had money to spend; little +enough, it is true, still he had some. In his behaviour he was not +exactly retiring--retiring was not a word that could be applied to him: +he lived as though he noticed no one about him, and cared for no one. +The Wild Master (that was the nickname they had given him; his real name +was Perevlyesov) enjoyed an immense influence in the whole district; he +was obeyed with eager promptitude, though he had no kind of right to +give orders to anyone, and did not himself evince the slightest +pretension to authority over the people with whom he came into casual +contact He spoke--they obeyed: strength always has an influence of its +own. He scarcely drank at all, had nothing to do with women, and was +passionately fond of singing. There was much that was mysterious about +this man; it seemed as though vast forces sullenly reposed within him, +knowing, as it were, that once roused, once bursting free, they were +bound to crush him and everything they came in contact with; and I am +greatly mistaken if, in this man's life, there had not been some such +outbreak; if it was not owing to the lessons of experience, to a narrow +escape from ruin, that he now kept himself so tightly in hand. What +especially struck me in him was the combination of a sort of inborn +natural ferocity, with an equally inborn generosity--a combination I +have never met in any other man. +</p> + +<p> +And so the booth-keeper stepped forward, and, half shutting his eyes, +began singing in high falsetto. He had a fairly sweet and pleasant +voice, though rather hoarse: he played with his voice like a woodlark, +twisting and turning it in incessant roulades and trills up and down the +scale, continually returning to the highest notes, which he held and +prolonged with special care. Then he would break off, and again suddenly +take up the first motive with a sort of go-ahead daring. His modulations +were at times rather bold, at times rather comical; they would have +given a connoisseur great satisfaction, and have made a German furiously +indignant. He was a Russian <i>tenore di grazia, ténor léger</i>. He +sang a song to a lively dance-tune, the words of which, all that I could +catch through the endless maze of variations, ejaculations and +repetitions, were as follows: +</p> + +<p class="poem"> + 'A tiny patch of land, young lass,<br /> + I'll plough for thee,<br /> + And tiny crimson flowers, young lass,<br /> + I'll sow for thee.'<br /> +</p> + +<p><br /></p> + +<p> +He sang; all listened to him with great attention. He seemed to feel +that he had to do with really musical people, and therefore was exerting +himself to do his best. And they really are musical in our part of the +country; the village of Sergievskoe on the Orel highroad is deservedly +noted throughout Russia for its harmonious chorus-singing. The +booth-keeper sang for a long while without evoking much enthusiasm in +his audience; he lacked the support of a chorus; but at last, after one +particularly bold flourish, which set even the Wild Master smiling, the +Gabbler could not refrain from a shout of delight. Everyone was roused. +The Gabbler and the Blinkard began joining in in an undertone, and +exclaiming: 'Bravely done!... Take it, you rogue!... Sing it out, you +serpent! Hold it! That shake again, you dog you!... May Herod confound +your soul!' and so on. Nikolai Ivanitch behind the bar was nodding his +head from side to side approvingly. The Gabbler at last was swinging his +legs, tapping with his feet and twitching his shoulder, while Yashka's +eyes fairly glowed like coal, and he trembled all over like a leaf, and +smiled nervously. The Wild Master alone did not change countenance, and +stood motionless as before; but his eyes, fastened on the booth-keeper, +looked somewhat softened, though the expression of his lips was still +scornful. Emboldened by the signs of general approbation, the +booth-keeper went off in a whirl of flourishes, and began to round off +such trills, to turn such shakes off his tongue, and to make such +furious play with his throat, that when at last, pale, exhausted, and +bathed in hot perspiration, he uttered the last dying note, his whole +body flung back, a general united shout greeted him in a violent +outburst. The Gabbler threw himself on his neck and began strangling him +in his long, bony arms; a flush came out on Nikolai Ivanitch's oily +face, and he seemed to have grown younger; Yashka shouted like mad: +'Capital, capital!'--even my neighbour, the peasant in the torn smock, +could not restrain himself, and with a blow of his fist on the table he +cried: 'Aha! well done, damn my soul, well done!' And he spat on one +side with an air of decision. +</p> + +<p> +'Well, brother, you've given us a treat!' bawled the Gabbler, not +releasing the exhausted booth-keeper from his embraces; 'you've given us +a treat, there's no denying! You've won, brother, you've won! I +congratulate you--the quart's yours! Yashka's miles behind you... I +tell you: miles... take my word for it.' (And again he hugged the +booth-keeper to his breast.) +</p> + +<p> +'There, let him alone, let him alone; there's no being rid of you'... +said the Blinkard with vexation; 'let him sit down on the bench; he's +tired, see... You're a ninny, brother, a perfect ninny! What are you +sticking to him like a wet leaf for...' +</p> + +<p> +'Well, then, let him sit down, and I'll drink to his health,' said the +Gabbler, and he went up to the bar. 'At your expense, brother,' he +added, addressing the booth-keeper. +</p> + +<p> +The latter nodded, sat down on the bench, pulled a piece of cloth out of +his cap, and began wiping his face, while the Gabbler, with greedy +haste, emptied his glass, and, with a grunt, assumed, after the manner +of confirmed drinkers, an expression of careworn melancholy. +</p> + +<p> +'You sing beautifully, brother, beautifully,' Nikolai Ivanitch observed +caressingly. 'And now it's your turn, Yasha; mind, now, don't be afraid. +We shall see who's who; we shall see. The booth-keeper sings +beautifully, though; 'pon my soul, he does.' +</p> + +<p> +'Very beautifully,' observed Nikolai Ivanitch's wife, and she looked +with a smile at Yakov. +</p> + +<p> +'Beautifully, ha!' repeated my neighbour in an undertone. +</p> + +<p> +'Ah, a wild man of the woods!' the Gabbler vociferated suddenly, and +going up to the peasant with the rent on his shoulder, he pointed at him +with his finger, while he pranced about and went off into an insulting +guffaw. 'Ha! ha! get along! wild man of the woods! Here's a ragamuffin +from Woodland village! What brought you here?' he bawled amidst +laughter. +</p> + +<p> +The poor peasant was abashed, and was just about to get up and make off +as fast as he could, when suddenly the Wild Master's iron voice was +heard: +</p> + +<p> +'What does the insufferable brute mean?' he articulated, grinding his +teeth. +</p> + +<p> +'I wasn't doing nothing,' muttered the Gabbler. 'I didn't... I +only....' +</p> + +<p> +'There, all right, shut up!' retorted the Wild Master. 'Yakov, begin!' +</p> + +<p> +Yakov took himself by his throat: +</p> + +<p> +'Well, really, brothers,... something.... Hm, I don't know, on my word, +what....' +</p> + +<p> +'Come, that's enough; don't be timid. For shame!... why go back?... Sing +the best you can, by God's gift.' +</p> + +<p> +And the Wild Master looked down expectant. Yakov was silent for a +minute; he glanced round, and covered his face with his hand. All had +their eyes simply fastened upon him, especially the booth-keeper, on +whose face a faint, involuntary uneasiness could be seen through his +habitual expression of self-confidence and the triumph of his success. +He leant back against the wall, and again put both hands under him, but +did not swing his legs as before. When at last Yakov uncovered his face +it was pale as a dead man's; his eyes gleamed faintly under their +drooping lashes. He gave a deep sigh, and began to sing.... The first +sound of his voice was faint and unequal, and seemed not to come from +his chest, but to be wafted from somewhere afar off, as though it had +floated by chance into the room. A strange effect was produced on all of +us by this trembling, resonant note; we glanced at one another, and +Nikolai Ivanitch's wife seemed to draw herself up. This first note was +followed by another, bolder and prolonged, but still obviously +quivering, like a harpstring when suddenly struck by a stray finger it +throbs in a last, swiftly-dying tremble; the second was followed by a +third, and, gradually gaining fire and breadth, the strains swelled into +a pathetic melody. 'Not one little path ran into the field,' he sang, +and sweet and mournful it was in our ears. I have seldom, I must +confess, heard a voice like it; it was slightly hoarse, and not +perfectly true; there was even something morbid about it at first; but +it had genuine depth of passion, and youth and sweetness and a sort of +fascinating, careless, pathetic melancholy. A spirit of truth and fire, +a Russian spirit, was sounding and breathing in that voice, and it +seemed to go straight to your heart, to go straight to all that was +Russian in it. The song swelled and flowed. Yakov was clearly carried +away by enthusiasm; he was not timid now; he surrendered himself wholly +to the rapture of his art; his voice no longer trembled; it quivered, +but with the scarce perceptible inward quiver of passion, which pierces +like an arrow to the very soul of the listeners; and he steadily gained +strength and firmness and breadth. I remember I once saw at sunset on a +flat sandy shore, when the tide was low and the sea's roar came weighty +and menacing from the distance, a great white sea-gull; it sat +motionless, its silky bosom facing the crimson glow of the setting sun, +and only now and then opening wide its great wings to greet the +well-known sea, to greet the sinking lurid sun: I recalled it, as I +heard Yakov. He sang, utterly forgetful of his rival and all of us; he +seemed supported, as a bold swimmer by the waves, by our silent, +passionate sympathy. He sang, and in every sound of his voice one seemed +to feel something dear and akin to us, something of breadth and space, +as though the familiar steppes were unfolding before our eyes and +stretching away into endless distance. I felt the tears gathering in my +bosom and rising to my eyes; suddenly I was struck by dull, smothered +sobs.... I looked round--the innkeeper's wife was weeping, her bosom +pressed close to the window. Yakov threw a quick glance at her, and he +sang more sweetly, more melodiously than ever; Nikolai Ivanitch looked +down; the Blinkard turned away; the Gabbler, quite touched, stood, his +gaping mouth stupidly open; the humble peasant was sobbing softly in the +corner, and shaking his head with a plaintive murmur; and on the iron +visage of the Wild Master, from under his overhanging brows there slowly +rolled a heavy tear; the booth-keeper raised his clenched fist to his +brow, and did not stir.... I don't know how the general emotion would +have ended, if Yakov had not suddenly come to a full stop on a high, +exceptionally shrill note--as though his voice had broken. No one called +out, or even stirred; every one seemed to be waiting to see whether he +was not going to sing more; but he opened his eyes as though wondering +at our silence, looked round at all of us with a face of inquiry, and +saw that the victory was his.... +</p> + +<p> +'Yasha,' said the Wild Master, laying his hand on his shoulder, and he +could say no more. +</p> + +<p> +We all stood, as it were, petrified. The booth-keeper softly rose and +went up to Yakov. +</p> + +<p> +'You... yours... you've won,' he articulated at last with an effort, +and rushed out of the room. His rapid, decided action, as it were, broke +the spell; we all suddenly fell into noisy, delighted talk. The Gabbler +bounded up and down, stammered and brandished his arms like mill-sails; +the Blinkard limped up to Yakov and began kissing him; Nikolai Ivanitch +got up and solemnly announced that he would add a second pot of beer +from himself. The Wild Master laughed a sort of kind, simple laugh, +which I should never have expected to see on his face; the humble +peasant as he wiped his eyes, cheeks, nose, and beard on his sleeves, +kept repeating in his corner: 'Ah, beautiful it was, by God! blast me +for the son of a dog, but it was fine!' while Nikolai Ivanitch's wife, +her face red with weeping, got up quickly and went away, Yakov was +enjoying his triumph like a child; his whole face was tranformed, his +eyes especially fairly glowed with happiness. They dragged him to the +bar; he beckoned the weeping peasant up to it, and sent the innkeeper's +little son to look after the booth-keeper, who was not found, however; +and the festivities began. 'You'll sing to us again; you're going to +sing to us till evening,' the Gabbler declared, flourishing his hands in +the air. +</p> + +<p> +I took one more look at Yakov and went out. I did not want to stay--I +was afraid of spoiling the impression I had received. But the heat was +as insupportable as before. It seemed hanging in a thick, heavy layer +right over the earth; over the dark blue sky, tiny bright fires seemed +whisking through the finest, almost black dust. Everything was still; +and there was something hopeless and oppressive in this profound hush of +exhausted nature. I made my way to a hay-loft, and lay down on the +fresh-cut, but already almost dry grass. For a long while I could not go +to sleep; for a long while Yakov's irresistible voice was ringing in my +ears.... At last the heat and fatigue regained their sway, however, and +I fell into a dead sleep. When I waked up, everything was in darkness; +the hay scattered around smelt strong and was slightly damp; through the +slender rafters of the half-open roof pale stars were faintly twinkling. +I went out. The glow of sunset had long died away, and its last trace +showed in a faint light on the horizon; but above the freshness of the +night there was still a feeling of heat in the atmosphere, lately baked +through by the sun, and the breast still craved for a draught of cool +air. There was no wind, nor were there any clouds; the sky all round was +clear, and transparently dark, softly glimmering with innumerable, but +scarcely visible stars. There were lights twinkling about the village; +from the flaring tavern close by rose a confused, discordant din, amid +which I fancied I recognised the voice of Yakov. Violent laughter came +from there in an outburst at times. I went up to the little window and +pressed my face against the pane. I saw a cheerless, though varied and +animated scene; all were drunk--all from Yakov upwards. With breast +bared, he sat on a bench, and singing in a thick voice a street song to +a dance-tune, he lazily fingered and strummed on the strings of a +guitar. His moist hair hung in tufts over his fearfully pale face. In +the middle of the room, the Gabbler, completely 'screwed' and without +his coat, was hopping about in a dance before the peasant in the grey +smock; the peasant, on his side, was with difficulty stamping and +scraping with his feet, and grinning meaninglessly over his dishevelled +beard; he waved one hand from time to time, as much as to say, 'Here +goes!' Nothing could be more ludicrous than his face; however much he +twitched up his eyebrows, his heavy lids would hardly rise, but seemed +lying upon his scarcely visible, dim, and mawkish eyes. He was in that +amiable frame of mind of a perfectly intoxicated man, when every +passer-by, directly he looks him in the face, is sure to say, 'Bless +you, brother, bless you!' The Blinkard, as red as a lobster, and his +nostrils dilated wide, was laughing malignantly in a corner; only +Nikolai Ivanitch, as befits a good tavern-keeper, preserved his +composure unchanged. The room was thronged with many new faces; but the +Wild Master I did not see in it. +</p> + +<p> +I turned away with rapid steps and began descending the hill on which +Kolotovka lies. At the foot of this hill stretches a wide plain; plunged +in the misty waves of the evening haze, it seemed more immense, and was, +as it were, merged in the darkening sky. I walked with long strides +along the road by the ravine, when all at once from somewhere far away +in the plain came a boy's clear voice: 'Antropka! Antropka-a-a!...' He +shouted in obstinate and tearful desperation, with long, long drawing +out of the last syllable. +</p> + +<p> +He was silent for a few instants, and started shouting again. His voice +rang out clear in the still, lightly slumbering air. Thirty times at +least he had called the name, Antropka. When suddenly, from the farthest +end of the plain, as though from another world, there floated a scarcely +audible reply: +</p> + +<p> +'Wha-a-t?' +</p> + +<p> +The boy's voice shouted back at once with gleeful exasperation: +</p> + +<p> +'Come here, devil! woo-od imp!' +</p> + +<p> +'What fo-or?' replied the other, after a long interval. +</p> + +<p> +'Because dad wants to thrash you!' the first voice shouted back +hurriedly. +</p> + +<p> +The second voice did not call back again, and the boy fell to shouting +Antropka once more. His cries, fainter and less and less frequent, still +floated up to my ears, when it had grown completely dark, and I had +turned the corner of the wood which skirts my village and lies over +three miles from Kolotovka.... 'Antropka-a-a!' was still audible in the +air, filled with the shadows of night. +</p> + +<p><br /><br /><br /></p> + +<h3> +<a id="chap18"></a> +XVIII +</h3> + +<h3> +PIOTR PETROVITCH KARATAEV +</h3> + +<p> +One autumn five years ago, I chanced, when on the road from Moscow to +Tula, to spend almost a whole day at a posting station for want of +horses. I was on the way back from a shooting expedition, and had been +so incautious as to send my three horses on in front of me. The man in +charge of the station, a surly, elderly man, with hair hanging over his +brows to his very nose, with little sleepy eyes, answered all my +complaints and requests with disconnected grumbling, slammed the door +angrily, as though he were cursing his calling in life, and going out on +the steps abused the postilions who were sauntering in a leisurely way +through the mud with the weighty wooden yokes on their arms, or sat +yawning and scratching themselves on a bench, and paid no special +attention to the wrathful exclamations of their superior. I had already +sat myself down three times to tea, had several times tried in vain to +sleep, and had read all the inscriptions on the walls and windows; I was +overpowered by fearful boredom. In chill and helpless despair I was +staring at the upturned shafts of my carriage, when suddenly I heard the +tinkling of a bell, and a small trap, drawn by three jaded horses, drew +up at the steps. The new arrival leaped out of the trap, and shouting +'Horses! and look sharp!' he went into the room. While he was listening +with the strange wonder customary in such cases to the overseer's answer +that there were no horses, I had time to scan my new companion from top +to toe with all the greedy curiosity of a man bored to death. He +appeared to be nearly thirty. Small-pox had left indelible traces on his +face, which was dry and yellowish, with an unpleasant coppery tinge; his +long blue-black hair fell in ringlets on his collar behind, and was +twisted into jaunty curls in front; his small swollen eyes were quite +expressionless; a few hairs sprouted on his upper lip. He was dressed +like a dissipated country gentleman, given to frequenting horse-fairs, +in a rather greasy striped Caucasian jacket, a faded lilac silk-tie, a +waistcoat with copper buttons, and grey trousers shaped like huge +funnels, from under which the toes of unbrushed shoes could just be +discerned. He smelt strongly of tobacco and spirits; on his fat, red +hands, almost hidden in his sleeves, could be seen silver and Tula +rings. Such figures are met in Russia not by dozens, but by hundreds; an +acquaintance with them is not, to tell the truth, productive of any +particular pleasure; but in spite of the prejudice with which I looked +at the new-comer, I could not fail to notice the recklessly good-natured +and passionate expression of his face. +</p> + +<p> +'This gentleman's been waiting more than an hour here too,' observed the +overseer indicating me. +</p> + +<p> +More than an hour! The rascal was making fun of me. +</p> + +<p> +'But perhaps he doesn't need them as I do,' answered the new comer. +</p> + +<p> +'I know nothing about that,' said the overseer sulkily. +</p> + +<p> +'Then is it really impossible? Are there positively no horses?' +</p> + +<p> +'Impossible. There's not a single horse.' +</p> + +<p> +'Well, tell them to bring me a samovar. I'll wait a little; there's +nothing else to be done.' +</p> + +<p> +The new comer sat down on the bench, flung his cap on the table, and +passed his hand over his hair. +</p> + +<p> +'Have you had tea already?' he inquired of me. +</p> + +<p> +'Yes.' +</p> + +<p> +'But won't you have a little more for company.' +</p> + +<p> +I consented. The stout red samovar made its appearance for the fourth +time on the table. I brought out a bottle of rum. I was not wrong in +taking my new acquaintance for a country gentleman of small property. +His name was Piotr Petrovitch Karataev. +</p> + +<p> +We got into conversation. In less than half-an-hour after his arrival, +he was telling me his whole life with the most simple-hearted openness. +</p> + +<p> +'I'm on my way to Moscow now,' he told me as he sipped his fourth glass; +'there's nothing for me to do now in the country.' +</p> + +<p> +'How so?' +</p> + +<p> +'Well, it's come to that. My property's in disorder; I've ruined my +peasants, I must confess; there have been bad years: bad harvests, and +all sorts of ill-luck, you know.... Though, indeed,' he added, looking +away dejectedly; 'how could I manage an estate!' +</p> + +<p> +'Why's that?' +</p> + +<p> +'But, no,' he interrupted me? 'there are people like me who make good +managers! You see,' he went on, screwing his head on one side and +sucking his pipe assiduously, 'looking at me, I dare say you think I'm +not much... but you, see, I must confess, I've had a very middling +education; I wasn't well off. I beg your pardon; I'm an open man, and if +you come to that....' +</p> + +<p> +He did not complete his sentence, but broke off with a wave of the hand. +I began to assure him that he was mistaken, that I was highly delighted +to meet him, and so on, and then observed that I should have thought a +very thorough education was not indispensable for the good management of +property. +</p> + +<p> +'Agreed,' he responded; 'I agree with you. But still, a special sort of +disposition's essential! There are some may do anything they like, and +it's all right! but I.... Allow me to ask, are you from Petersburg or +from Moscow?' +</p> + +<p> +'I'm from Petersburg.' +</p> + +<p> +He blew a long coil of smoke from his nostrils. +</p> + +<p> +'And I'm going in to Moscow to be an official.' +</p> + +<p> +'What department do you mean to enter?' +</p> + +<p> +'I don't know; that's as it happens. I'll own to you, I'm afraid of +official life; one's under responsibility at once. I've always lived in +the country; I'm used to it, you know... but now, there's no help for +it... it's through poverty! Oh, poverty, how I hate it!' +</p> + +<p> +'But then you will be living in the capital.' +</p> + +<p> +'In the capital.... Well, I don't know what there is that's pleasant in +the capital. We shall see; may be, it's pleasant too.... Though nothing, +I fancy, could be better than the country.' +</p> + +<p> +'Then is it really impossible for you to live at your country place?' +</p> + +<p> +He gave a sigh. +</p> + +<p> +'Quite impossible. It's, so to say, not my own now.' +</p> + +<p> +'Why, how so?' +</p> + +<p> +'Well, a good fellow there--a neighbour--is in possession... a bill of +exchange.' +</p> + +<p> +Poor Piotr Petrovitch passed his hand over his face, thought a minute, +and shook his head. +</p> + +<p> +'Well?'... I must own, though,' he added after a brief silence, 'I +can't blame anybody; it's my own fault. I was fond of cutting a dash, I +am fond of cutting a dash, damn my soul!' +</p> + +<p> +'You had a jolly life in the country?' I asked him. +</p> + +<p> +'I had, sir,' he responded emphatically, looking me straight in the +face, 'twelve harriers--harriers, I can tell you, such as you don't very +often see.' (The last words he uttered in a drawl with great +significance.) 'A grey hare they'd double upon in no time. After the red +fox--they were devils, regular serpents. And I could boast of my +greyhounds too. It's all a thing of the past now, I've no reason to lie. +I used to go out shooting too. I had a dog called the Countess, a +wonderful setter, with a first-rate scent--she took everything. +Sometimes I'd go to a marsh and call "Seek." If she refused, you might +go with a dozen dogs, and you'd find nothing. But when she was after +anything, it was a sight to see her. And in the house so well-bred. If +you gave her bread with your left hand and said, "A Jew's tasted it," +she wouldn't touch it; but give it with your right and say, "The young +lady's had some," and she'd take it and eat it at once. I had a pup of +hers--capital pup he was, and I meant to bring him with me to Moscow, +but a friend asked me for him, together with a gun; he said, "In Moscow +you'll have other things to think of." I gave him the pup and the gun; +and so, you know, it stayed there.' +</p> + +<p> +'But you might go shooting in Moscow.' +</p> + +<p> +'No, what would be the use? I didn't know when to pull myself up, so now +I must grin and bear it. +</p> + +<p> +But there, kindly tell me rather about the living in Moscow--is it +dear?' +</p> + +<p> +'No, not very.' +</p> + +<p> +'Not very.... And tell me, please, are there any gypsies in Moscow?' +</p> + +<p> +'What sort of gypsies?' +</p> + +<p> +'Why, such as hang about fairs?' +</p> + +<p> +'Yes, there are in Moscow....' +</p> + +<p> +'Well, that's good news. I like gypsies, damn my soul! I like 'em....' +</p> + +<p> +And there was a gleam of reckless merriment in Piotr Petrovitch's eyes. +But suddenly he turned round on the bench, then seemed to ponder, +dropped his eyes, and held out his empty glass to me. +</p> + +<p> +'Give me some of your rum,' he said.' +</p> + +<p> +'But the tea's all finished.' +</p> + +<p> +'Never mind, as it is, without tea... Ah--h!' Karataev laid his head in +his hands and leaned his elbows on the table. I looked at him without +speaking, and although I was expecting the sentimental exclamations, +possibly even the tears of which the inebriate are so lavish, yet when +he raised his head, I was, I must own, impressed by the profoundly +mournful expression of his face. +</p> + +<p> +'What's wrong with you?' +</p> + +<p> +'Nothing.... I was thinking of old times. An anecdote that... I would +tell it you, but I am ashamed to trouble you....' +</p> + +<p> +'What nonsense!' +</p> + +<p> +'Yes,' he went on with a sigh:--'there are cases... like mine, for +instance. Well, if you like, I will tell you. Though really I don't +know....' +</p> + +<p> +'Do tell me, dear Piotr Petrovitch.' +</p> + +<p> +'Very well, though it's a... Well, do you see,' he began; 'but, upon my +word, I don't know.' +</p> + +<p> +'Come, that's enough, dear Piotr Petrovitch.' +</p> + +<p> +'All right. This, then, was what befel me, so to say. I used to live in +the country... All of a sudden, I took a fancy to a girl. Ah, what a +girl she was!... handsome, clever, and so good and sweet! Her name was +Matrona. But she wasn't a lady--that is, you understand, she was a serf, +simply a serf-girl. And not my girl; she belonged to someone else--that +was the trouble. Well, so I loved her--it's really an incident that one +can hardly... well, and she loved me, too. And so Matrona began begging +me to buy her off from her mistress; and, indeed, the thought had +crossed my mind too.... But her mistress was a rich, dreadful old body; +she lived about twelve miles from me. Well, so one fine day, as the +saying is, I ordered my team of three horses to be harnessed abreast to +the droshky--in the centre I'd a first-rate goer, an extraordinary +Asiatic horse, for that reason called Lampurdos--I dressed myself in my +best, and went off to Matrona's mistress. I arrived; it was a big house +with wings and a garden.... Matrona was waiting for me at the bend of +the road; she tried to say a word to me, but she could only kiss her +hand and turn away. Well, so I went into the hall and asked if the +mistress were at home?... And a tall footman says to me: "What name +shall I say?" I answered, "Say, brother, Squire Karataev has called on a +matter of business." The footman walked away; I waited by myself and +thought, "I wonder how it'll be? I daresay the old beast'll screw out a +fearful price, for all she's so rich. Five hundred roubles she'll ask, I +shouldn't be surprised." Well, at last the footman returned, saying, "If +you please, walk up." I followed him into the drawing-room. A little +yellowish old woman sat in an armchair blinking. "What do you want?" To +begin with, you know, I thought it necessary to say how glad I was to +make her acquaintance.... "You are making a mistake; I am not the +mistress here; I'm a relation of hers.... What do you want?" I remarked +upon that, "I had to speak to the mistress herself." "Marya Ilyinishna +is not receiving to-day; she is unwell.... What do you want?" There's +nothing for it, I thought to myself; so I explained my position to her. +The old lady heard me out. "Matrona! what Matrona?" +</p> + +<p> +'"Matrona Fedorovna, Kulik's daughter." +</p> + +<p> +'"Fedor Kulik's daughter.... But how did you come to know her?" "By +chance." "And is she aware of your intention?" "Yes." The old lady was +silent for a minute. Then, "Ah, I'll let her know it, the worthless +hussy!" she said. I was astounded, I must confess. "What ever for? upon +my word!... I'm ready to pay a good sum, if you will be so good as to +name it."' +</p> + +<p> +'The old hag positively hissed at me. "A surprising idea you've +concocted there; as though we needed your money!... I'll teach her, I'll +show her!... I'll beat the folly out of her!" The old lady choked with +spitefulness. "Wasn't she well off with us, pray?... Ah, she's a little +devil! God forgive my transgressions!" I fired up, I'll confess. "What +are you threatening the poor girl for? How is she to blame?" The old +lady crossed herself. "Ah, Lord have mercy on me, do you suppose I'd..." +"But she's not yours, you know!" "Well, Marya Ilyinishna knows best +about that; it's not your business, my good sir; but I'll show that chit +of a Matrona whose serf she is." I'll confess, I almost fell on the +damned old woman, but I thought of Matrona, and my hands dropped. I was +more frightened than I can tell you; I began entreating the old lady. +"Take what you like," I said. "But what use is she to you?" "I like her, +good ma'am; put yourself in my position.... Allow me to kiss your little +hand." And I positively kissed the wretch's hand! "Well," mumbled the +old witch, "I'll tell Marya Ilyinishna--it's for her to decide; you come +back in a couple of days." I went home in great uneasiness. I began to +suspect that I'd managed the thing badly; that I'd been wrong in +letting her notice my state of mind, but I thought of that too late. Two +days after, I went to see the mistress. I was shown into a boudoir. +There were heaps of flowers and splendid furniture; the lady herself was +sitting in a wonderful easy-chair, with her head lolling back on a +cushion; and the same relation was sitting there too, and some young +lady, with white eyebrows and a mouth all awry, in a green gown--a +companion, most likely. The old lady said through her nose, "Please be +seated." I sat down. She began questioning me as to how old I was, and +where I'd been in the service, and what I meant to do, and all that very +condescendingly and solemnly. I answered minutely. The old lady took a +handkerchief off the table, flourished it, fanning herself.... "Katerina +Karpovna informed me," says she, "of your scheme; she informed me of it; +but I make it my rule," says she, "not to allow my people to leave my +service. It is improper, and quite unsuitable in a well-ordered house; +it is not good order. I have already given my orders," says she. "There +will be no need for you to trouble yourself further," says she. "Oh, no +trouble, really.... But can it be, Matrona Fedorovna is so necessary to +you?" "No," says she, "she is not necessary." "Then why won't you part +with her to me?" "Because I don't choose to; I don't choose--and that's +all about it. I've already," says she, "given my orders: she is being +sent to a village in the steppes." I was thunderstruck. The old lady +said a couple of words in French to the young lady in green; she went +out. "I am," says she, "a woman of strict principles, and my health is +delicate; I can't stand being worried. You are still young, and I'm an +old woman, and entitled to give you advice. Wouldn't it be better for +you to settle down, get married; to look out a good match; wealthy +brides are few, but a poor girl, of the highest moral character, could +be found." I stared, do you know, at the old lady, and didn't understand +what she was driving at; I could hear she was talking about marriage, +but the village in the steppes was ringing in my ears all the while. Get +married!... what the devil!...' +</p> + +<p> +Here he suddenly stopped in his story and looked at me. +</p> + +<p> +'You're not married, I suppose?' +</p> + +<p> +'No.' +</p> + +<p> +'There, of course, I could see it. I couldn't stand it. "But, upon my +word, ma'am, what on earth are you talking about? How does marriage come +in? I simply want to know from you whether you will part with your +serf-girl Matrona or not?" The old lady began sighing and groaning. "Ah, +he's worrying me! ah, send him away! ah!" The relation flew to her, and +began scolding me, while the lady kept on moaning: "What have I done to +deserve it?... I suppose I'm not mistress in my own house? Ah! ah!" I +snatched my hat, and ran out of the house like a madman. +</p> + +<p> +'Perhaps,' he continued, 'you will blame me for being so warmly attached +to a girl of low position; I don't mean to justify myself exactly, +either... but so it came to pass!... Would you believe it, I had no +rest by day or by night.... I was in torment! Besides, I thought, "I +have ruined the poor girl!" At times I thought that she was herding +geese in a smock, and being ill-treated by her mistress's orders, and +the bailiff, a peasant in tarred boots, reviling her with foul abuse. I +positively fell into a cold sweat. Well, I could not stand it. I found +out what village she had been sent to, mounted my horse, and set off. I +only got there the evening of the next day. Evidently they hadn't +expected such a proceeding on my part, and had given no order in regard +to me. I went straight to the bailiff as though I were a neighbour; I go +into the yard and look around; there was Matrona sitting on the steps +leaning on her elbow. She was on the point of crying out, but I held up +my finger and pointed outside, towards the open country. I went into the +hut; I chatted away a bit to the bailiff, told him ten thousand lies, +seized the right moment, and went out to Matrona. She, poor girl, fairly +hung round my neck. She was pale and thin, my poor darling! I kept +saying to her, do you know: "There, it's all right, Matrona; it's all +right, don't cry," and my own tears simply flowed and flowed.... Well, +at last though, I was ashamed, I said to her: "Matrona, tears are no +help in trouble, but we must act, as they say, resolutely; you must run +away with me; that's how we must act." Matrona fairly swooned away.... +"How can it be! I shall be ruined; they will be the death of me +altogether." "You silly! who will find you?" "They will find me; they +will be sure to find me. Thank you, Piotr Petrovitch--I shall never +forget your kindness; but now you must leave me; such is my fate, it +seems." "Ah, Matrona, Matrona, I thought you were a girl of character!" +And, indeed, she had a great deal of character.... She had a heart, a +heart of gold! "Why should you be left here? It makes no difference; +things can't be worse. Come, tell me--you've felt the bailiff's fists, +eh?" Matrona fairly crimsoned, and her lips trembled. "But there'll be +no living for my family on my account." "Why, your family now--will they +send them for soldiers?" "Yes; they'll send my brother for a soldier." +"And your father?" "Oh, they won't send father; he's the only good +tailor among us." +</p> + +<p> +'"There, you see; and it won't kill your brother." Would you believe it, +I'd hard work to persuade her; she even brought forward a notion that I +might have to answer for it. "But that's not your affair," said I.... +However, I did carry her off... not that time, but another; one night I +came with a light cart, and carried her off.' +</p> + +<p> +'You carried her off?' +</p> + +<p> +'Yes... Well, so she lived in my house. It was a little house, and I'd +few servants. My people, I will tell you frankly, respected me; they +wouldn't have betrayed me for any reward. I began to be as happy as a +prince. Matrona rested and recovered, and I grew devoted to her.... +And what a girl she was! It seemed to come by nature! She could sing, +and dance, and play the guitar!... I didn't show her to my neighbours; +I was afraid they'd gossip! But there was one fellow, my bosom friend, +Gornostaev, Panteley--you don't know him? He was simply crazy about her; +he'd kiss her hand as though she were a lady; he would, really. And I +must tell you, Gornostaev was not like me; he was a cultivated man, +had read all Pushkin; sometimes, he'd talk to Matrona and me so that +we pricked up our ears to listen. He taught her to write; such a queer +chap he was! And how I dressed her--better than the governor's wife, +really; I had a pelisse made her of crimson velvet, edged with fur... +Ah! how that pelisse suited her! It was made by a Moscow madame in a +new fashion, with a waist. And what a wonderful creature Matrona was! +Sometimes she'd fall to musing, and sit for hours together looking at +the ground, without stirring a muscle; and I'd sit too, and look at her, +and could never gaze enough, just as if I were seeing her for the first +time.... Then she would smile, and my heart would give a jump as though +someone were tickling me. Or else she'd suddenly fall to laughing, +joking, dancing; she would embrace me so warmly, so passionately, that +my head went round. From morning to evening I thought of nothing but +how I could please her. And would you believe it? I gave her presents +simply to see how pleased she would be, the darling! all blushing with +delight! How she would try on my present; how she would come back with +her new possession on, and kiss me! Her father, Kulik, got wind of it, +somehow; the old man came to see us, and how he wept.... In that way +we lived for five months, and I should have been glad to live with her +for ever, but for my cursed ill-luck!' +</p> + +<p> +Piotr Petrovitch stopped. +</p> + +<p> +'What was it happened?' I asked him sympathetically. He waved his hand. +</p> + +<p> +'Everything went to the devil. I was the ruin of her too. My little +Matrona was passionately fond of driving in sledges, and she used to +drive herself; she used to put on her pelisse and her embroidered +Torzhok gloves, and cry out with delight all the way. We used to go out +sledging always in the evening, so as not to meet any one, you know. So, +once it was such a splendid day, you know, frosty and clear, and no wind... +we drove out. Matrona had the reins. I looked where she was driving. +Could it be to Kukuyevka, her mistress's village? Yes, it was to +Kukuyevka. I said to her, "You mad girl, where are you going?" She gave +me a look over her shoulder and laughed. "Let me," she said, "for a +lark." "Well," thought I, "come what may!..." To drive past her +mistress's house was nice, wasn't it? Tell me yourself--wasn't it nice? +So we drove on. The shaft-horse seemed to float through the air, and the +trace-horses went, I can tell you, like a regular whirlwind. We were +already in sight of Kukuyevka; when suddenly I see an old green coach +crawling along with a groom on the footboard up behind.... It was the +mistress--the mistress driving towards us! My heart failed me; but +Matrona--how she lashed the horses with the reins, and flew straight +towards the coach! The coachman, he, you understand, sees us flying to +meet him, meant, you know, to move on one side, turned too sharp, and +upset the coach in a snowdrift. The window was broken; the mistress +shrieked, "Ai! ai! ai! ai! ai! ai!" The companion wailed, "Help! help!" +while we flew by at the best speed we might. We galloped on, but I +thought, "Evil will come of it. I did wrong to let her drive to +Kukuyevka." And what do you think? Why, the mistress had recognised +Matrona, and me too, the old wretch, and made a complaint against me. +"My runaway serf-girl," said she, "is living at Mr. Karataev's"; and +thereupon she made a suitable present. Lo and behold! the captain of +police comes to me; and he was a man I knew, Stepan Sergyeitch Kuzovkin, +a good fellow; that's to say, really a regular bad lot. So he came up +and said this and that, and "How could you do so, Piotr Petrovitch?... +The liability is serious, and the laws very distinct on the subject." I +tell him, "Well, we'll have a talk about that, of course; but come, +you'll take a little something after your drive." He agreed to take +something, but he said, "Justice has claims, Piotr Petrovitch; think for +yourself." "Justice, to be sure," said I, "of course... but, I have +heard say you've a little black horse. Would you be willing to exchange +it for my Lampurdos?... But there's no girl called Matrona Fedorovna in +my keeping." "Come," says he, "Piotr Petrovitch, the girl's with you, +we're not living in Switzerland, you know... though my little horse +might be exchanged for Lampurdos; I might, to be sure, accept it in that +way." However, I managed to get rid of him somehow that time. But the +old lady made a greater fuss than ever; ten thousand roubles, she said, +she wouldn't grudge over the business. You see, when she saw me, she +suddenly took an idea into her head to marry me to her young lady +companion in green; that I found out later; that was why she was so +spiteful. What ideas won't these great ladies take into their heads!... +It comes through being dull, I suppose. Things went badly with me: I +didn't spare money, and I kept Matrona in hiding. No, they harassed me, +and turned me this way and that: I got into debt; I lost my health.... +So one night, as I lay in my bed, thinking, "My God, why should I suffer +so? What am I to do, since I can't get over loving her?... There, I +can't, and that's all about it!" into the room walked Matrona. I had +hidden her for the time at a farmhouse a mile and a half from my house. +I was frightened. "What? have they discovered you even there?" "No, +Piotr Petrovitch," said she, "no one disturbs me at Bubnova; but will +that last long? My heart," she said, "is torn, Piotr Petrovitch; I am +sorry for you, my dear one; never shall I forget your goodness, Piotr +Petrovitch, but now I've come to say good-bye to you." "What do you +mean, what do you mean, you mad girl?... Good-bye, how good-bye?"... +"Yes... I am going to give myself up." "But I'll lock you up in a +garret, mad girl!... Do you mean to destroy me? Do you want to kill me, +or what?" The girl was silent; she looked on the floor. "Come, speak, +speak!" "I can't bear to cause you any more trouble, Piotr Petrovitch." +Well, one might talk to her as one pleased... "But do you know, little +fool, do you know, mad..." +</p> + +<p> +And Piotr Petrovitch sobbed bitterly. +</p> + +<p> +'Well, what do you think?' he went on, striking the table with his fist +and trying to frown, while the tears still coursed down his flushed +cheeks; 'the girl gave herself up.... She went and gave herself up...' +</p> + +<p> +'The horses are ready,' the overseer cried triumphantly, entering the +room. +</p> + +<p> +We both stood up. +</p> + +<p> +'What became of Matrona?' I asked. +</p> + +<p> +Karataev waved his hand. +</p> + +<p class="t3"> + * * * * *<br /> +</p> + +<p> +A year after my meeting with Karataev, I happened to go to Moscow. One +day, before dinner, for some reason or other I went into a <i>café</i> +in the Ohotny row--an original Moscow <i>café</i>. In the billiard-room, +across clouds of smoke, I caught glimpses of flushed faces, whiskers, +old-fashioned Hungarian coats, and new-fangled Slavonic costumes. +</p> + +<p> +Thin little old men in sober surtouts were reading the Russian papers. +The waiters flitted airily about with trays, treading softly on the +green carpets. Merchants, with painful concentration, were drinking tea. +Suddenly a man came out of the billiard-room, rather dishevelled, and +not quite steady on his legs. He put his hands in his pockets, bent his +head, and looked aimlessly about. +</p> + +<p> +'Ba, ba, ba! Piotr Petrovitch!... How are you?' +</p> + +<p> +Piotr Petrovitch almost fell on my neck, and, slightly staggering, drew +me into a small private room. +</p> + +<p> +'Come here,' he said, carefully seating me in an easy-chair; 'here you +will be comfortable. Waiter, beer! No, I mean champagne! There, I'll +confess, I didn't expect; I didn't expect... Have you been here long? +Are you staying much longer? Well, God has brought us, as they say, +together.' +</p> + +<p> +'Yes, do you remember...' +</p> + +<p> +'To be sure, I remember; to be sure, I remember!' he interrupted me +hurriedly; 'it's a thing of the past...' +</p> + +<p> +'Well, what are you doing here, my dear Piotr Petrovitch?' +</p> + +<p> +'I'm living, as you can see. Life's first-rate here; they're a merry lot +here. Here I've found peace.' +</p> + +<p> +And he sighed, and raised his eyes towards heaven. +</p> + +<p> +'Are you in the service?' +</p> + +<p> +'No, I'm not in the service yet, but I think I shall enter. But what's +the service?... People are the chief thing. What people I have got to +know here!...' +</p> + +<p> +A boy came in with a bottle of champagne on a black tray. +</p> + +<p> +'There, and this is a good fellow.... Isn't that true, Vasya, that +you're a good fellow? To your health!' +</p> + +<p> +The boy stood a minute, shook his head, decorously smiled, and went out. +</p> + +<p> +'Yes, there are capital people here,' pursued Piotr Petrovitch; 'people +of soul, of feeling.... Would you like me to introduce you?--such jolly +chaps.... They'll all be glad to know you. I say... Bobrov is dead; +that's a sad thing.' +</p> + +<p> +'What Bobrov?' +</p> + +<p> +'Sergay Bobrov; he was a capital fellow; he took me under his wing as an +ignoramus from the wilds. And Panteley Gornostaev is dead. All dead, +all!' +</p> + +<p> +'Have you been living all the time in Moscow? You haven't been away to +the country?' +</p> + +<p> +'To the country!... My country place is sold.' +</p> + +<p> +'Sold?' +</p> + +<p> +'By auction.... There! what a pity you didn't buy it.' +</p> + +<p> +'What are you going to live on, Piotr Petrovitch?' +</p> + +<p> +'I shan't die of hunger; God will provide when I've no money. I shall +have friends. And what is money.... Dust and ashes! Gold is dust!' +</p> + +<p> +He shut his eyes, felt in his pocket, and held out to me in the palm of +his hand two sixpences and a penny. +</p> + +<p> +'What's that? Isn't it dust and ashes' (and the money flew on the +floor). 'But you had better tell me, have you read Polezhaev?' +</p> + +<p> +'Yes.' +</p> + +<p> +'Have you seen Motchalov in Hamlet?' +</p> + +<p> +'No, I haven't.' +</p> + +<p> +'You've not seen him, not seen him!...' (And Karataev's face turned +pale; his eyes strayed uneasily; he turned away; a faint spasm passed +over his lips.) 'Ah, Motchalov, Motchalov! "To die--to sleep!"' he said +in a thick voice: +</p> + +<p class="poem"> + 'No more; and by a sleep to say we end<br /> + The heart-ache and the thousand natural shocks<br /> + That flesh is heir to; 'tis a consummation<br /> + Devoutly to be wished. To die--to sleep!'<br /> +</p> + +<p><br /></p> + +<p> +'To sleep--to sleep,' he muttered several times. +</p> + +<p> +'Tell me, please,' I began; but he went on with fire: +</p> + +<p class="poem"> + 'Who would bear the whips and scorns of time,<br /> + The oppressor's wrong, the proud man's contumely,<br /> + The insolence of office and the spurns<br /> + That patient merit of the unworthy takes<br /> + When he himself might his quietus make<br /> + With a bare bodkin? Nymph in thy orisons<br /> + Be all my sins remembered.'<br /> +</p> + +<p><br /></p> + +<p> +And he dropped his head on the table. He began stammering and talking at +random. 'Within a month'! he delivered with fresh fire: +</p> + +<p class="poem"> + 'A little month, or ere those shoes were old,<br /> + With which she followed my poor father's body,<br /> + Like Niobe--all tears; why she, even she--<br /> + O God! a beast, that wants discourse of reason,<br /> + Would have mourned longer!'<br /> +</p> + +<p><br /></p> + +<p> +He raised a glass of champagne to his lips, but did not drink off the +wine, and went on: +</p> + +<p class="poem"> + 'For Hecuba!<br /> + What's Hecuba to him, or he to Hecuba,<br /> + That he should weep for her?...<br /> + But I'm a dull and muddy mettled-rascal,<br /> + Who calls me coward? gives me the lie i' the throat?<br /> + ... Why I should take it; for it cannot be,<br /> + But I am pigeon-livered and lack gall<br /> + To make oppression bitter.'<br /> +</p> + +<p><br /></p> + +<p> +Karataev put down the glass and grabbed at his head. I fancied I +understood him. +</p> + +<p> +'Well, well,' he said at last, 'one must not rake up the past. Isn't +that so?' (and he laughed). 'To your health!' +</p> + +<p> +'Shall you stay in Moscow?' I asked him. +</p> + +<p> +'I shall die in Moscow!' +</p> + +<p> +'Karataev!' called a voice in the next room; 'Karataev, where are you? +Come here, my dear fellow!' +</p> + +<p> +'They're calling me,' he said, getting up heavily from his seat. +'Good-bye; come and see me if you can; I live in....' +</p> + +<p> +But next day, through unforeseen circumstances, I was obliged to leave +Moscow, and I never saw Piotr Petrovitch Karataev again. +</p> + +<p><br /><br /><br /></p> + +<h3> +<a id="chap19"></a> +XIX +</h3> + +<h3> +THE TRYST +</h3> + +<p> +I was sitting in a birchwood in autumn, about the middle of September. +From early morning a fine rain had been falling, with intervals from +time to time of warm sunshine; the weather was unsettled. The sky was at +one time overcast with soft white clouds, at another it suddenly cleared +in parts for an instant, and then behind the parting clouds could be +seen a blue, bright and tender as a beautiful eye. I sat looking about +and listening. The leaves faintly rustled over my head; from the sound +of them alone one could tell what time of year it was. It was not the +gay laughing tremor of the spring, nor the subdued whispering, the +prolonged gossip of the summer, nor the chill and timid faltering of +late autumn, but a scarcely audible, drowsy chatter. A slight breeze was +faintly humming in the tree-tops. Wet with the rain, the copse in its +inmost recesses was for ever changing as the sun shone or hid behind a +cloud; at one moment it was all a radiance, as though suddenly +everything were smiling in it; the slender stems of the thinly-growing +birch-trees took all at once the soft lustre of white silk, the tiny +leaves lying on the earth were on a sudden flecked and flaring with +purplish gold, and the graceful stalks of the high, curly bracken, +decked already in their autumn colour, the hue of an over-ripe grape, +seemed interlacing in endless tangling crisscross before one's eyes; +then suddenly again everything around was faintly bluish; the glaring +tints died away instantaneously, the birch-trees stood all white and +lustreless, white as fresh-fallen snow, before the cold rays of the +winter sun have caressed it; and slily, stealthily there began drizzling +and whispering through the wood the finest rain. The leaves on the +birches were still almost all green, though perceptibly paler; only here +and there stood one young leaf, all red or golden, and it was a sight to +see how it flamed in the sunshine when the sunbeams suddenly pierced +with tangled flecks of light through the thick network of delicate +twigs, freshly washed by the sparkling rain. Not one bird could be +heard; all were in hiding and silent, except that at times there rang +out the metallic, bell-like sound of the jeering tomtit. Before halting +in this birch copse I had been through a wood of tall aspen-trees with +my dog. I confess I have no great liking for that tree, the aspen, with +its pale-lilac trunk and the greyish-green metallic leaves which it +flings high as it can, and unfolds in a quivering fan in the air; I do +not care for the eternal shaking of its round, slovenly leaves, +awkwardly hooked on to long stalks. It is only fine on some summer +evenings when, rising singly above low undergrowth, it faces the +reddening beams of the setting sun, and shines and quivers, bathed from +root to top in one unbroken yellow glow, or when, on a clear windy day, +it is all rippling, rustling, and whispering to the blue sky, and every +leaf is, as it were, taken by a longing to break away, to fly off and +soar into the distance. But, as a rule, I don't care for the tree, and +so, not stopping to rest in the aspen wood, I made my way to the +birch-copse, nestled down under one tree whose branches started low down +near the ground, and were consequently capable of shielding me from the +rain, and after admiring the surrounding view a little, I fell into that +sweet untroubled sleep only known to sportsmen. +</p> + +<p> +I cannot say how long I was asleep, but when I opened my eyes, all the +depths of the wood were filled with sunlight, and in all directions +across the joyously rustling leaves there were glimpses and, as it were, +flashes of intense blue sky; the clouds had vanished, driven away by the +blustering wind; the weather had changed to fair, and there was that +feeling of peculiar dry freshness in the air which fills the heart with +a sense of boldness, and is almost always a sure sign of a still bright +evening after a rainy day. I was just about to get up and try my luck +again when suddenly my eyes fell on a motionless human figure. I looked +attentively; it was a young peasant girl. She was sitting twenty paces +off, her head bent in thought, and her hands lying in her lap; one of +them, half-open, held a big nosegay of wild flowers, which softly +stirred on her checked petticoat with every breath. Her clean white +smock, buttoned up at the throat and wrists, lay in short soft folds +about her figure; two rows of big yellow beads fell from her neck to her +bosom. She was very pretty. Her thick fair hair of a lovely, almost +ashen hue, was parted into two carefully combed semicircles, under the +narrow crimson fillet, which was brought down almost on to her forehead, +white as ivory; the rest of her face was faintly tanned that golden hue +which is only taken by a delicate skin. I could not see her eyes--she +did not raise them; but I saw her delicate high eye-brows, her long +lashes; they were wet, and on one of her cheeks there shone in the sun +the traces of quickly drying tears, reaching right down to her rather +pale lips. Her little head was very charming altogether; even her rather +thick and snub nose did not spoil her. I was especially taken with the +expression of her face; it was so simple and gentle, so sad and so full +of childish wonder at its own sadness. She was obviously waiting for +some one; something made a faint crackling in the wood; she raised her +head at once, and looked round; in the transparent shade I caught a +rapid glimpse of her eyes, large, clear, and timorous, like a fawn's. +For a few instants she listened, not moving her wide open eyes from the +spot whence the faint sound had come; she sighed, turned her head +slowly, bent still lower, and began sorting her flowers. Her eyelids +turned red, her lips twitched faintly, and a fresh tear rolled from +under her thick eyelashes, and stood brightly shining on her cheek. +Rather a long while passed thus; the poor girl did not stir, except for +a despairing movement of her hands now and then--and she kept listening, +listening.... Again there was a crackling sound in the wood: she +started. The sound did not cease, grew more distinct, and came closer; +at last one could hear quick resolute footsteps. She drew herself up and +seemed frightened; her intent gaze was all aquiver, all aglow with +expectation. Through the thicket quickly appeared the figure of a man. +She gazed at it, suddenly flushed, gave a radiant, blissful smile, tried +to rise, and sank back again at once, turned white and confused, and +only raised her quivering, almost supplicating eyes to the man +approaching, when the latter stood still beside her. +</p> + +<p> +I looked at him with curiosity from my ambush. I confess he did not make +an agreeable impression on me. He was, to judge by external signs, the +pampered valet of some rich young gentleman. His attire betrayed +pretensions to style and fashionable carelessness; he wore a shortish +coat of a bronze colour, doubtless from his master's wardrobe, buttoned +up to the top, a pink cravat with lilac ends, and a black velvet cap +with a gold ribbon, pulled forward right on to his eyebrows. The +round collar of his white shirt mercilessly propped up his ears and +cut his cheeks, and his starched cuffs hid his whole hand to the red +crooked fingers, adorned by gold and silver rings, with turquoise +forget-me-nots. His red, fresh, impudent-looking face belonged to the +order of faces which, as far as I have observed, are almost always +repulsive to men, and unfortunately are very often attractive to women. +He was obviously trying to give a scornful and bored expression to his +coarse features; he was incessantly screwing up his milky grey +eyes--small enough at all times; he scowled, dropped the corners of his +mouth, affected to yawn, and with careless, though not perfectly natural +nonchalance, pushed back his modishly curled red locks, or pinched the +yellow hairs sprouting on his thick upper lip--in fact, he gave himself +insufferable airs. He began his antics directly he caught sight of the +young peasant girl waiting for him; slowly, with a swaggering step, he +went up to her, stood a moment shrugging his shoulders, stuffed both +hands in his coat pockets, and barely vouchsafing the poor girl a +cursory and indifferent glance, he dropped on to the ground. +</p> + +<p> +'Well,' he began, still gazing away, swinging his leg and yawning, 'have +you been here long?' +</p> + +<p> +The girl could not at once answer. +</p> + +<p> +'Yes, a long while, Viktor Alexandritch,' she said at last, in a voice +hardly audible. +</p> + +<p> +'Ah!' (He took off his cap, majestically passed his hand over his thick, +stiffly curled hair, which grew almost down to his eyebrows, and looking +round him with dignity, he carelessly covered his precious head again.) +'And I quite forgot all about it. Besides, it rained!' (He yawned +again.) 'Lots to do; there's no looking after everything; and he's +always scolding. We set off to-morrow....' +</p> + +<p> +'To-morrow?' uttered the young girl. And she fastened her startled eyes +upon him. +</p> + +<p> +'Yes, to-morrow.... Come, come, come, please!' he added, in a tone of +vexation, seeing she was shaking all over and softly bending her head; +'please, Akulina, don't cry. You know, I can't stand that.' (And he +wrinkled up his snub nose.) 'Else I'll go away at once.... What +silliness--snivelling!' +</p> + +<p> +'There, I won't, I won't!' cried Akulina, hurriedly gulping down her +tears with an effort. 'You are starting to-morrow?' she added, after a +brief silence: 'when will God grant that we see each other again, Viktor +Alexandritch?' +</p> + +<p> +'We shall see each other, we shall see each other. If not next +year--then later. The master wants to enter the service in Petersburg, I +fancy,' he went on, pronouncing his words with careless condescension +through his nose; 'and perhaps we shall go abroad too.' +</p> + +<p> +'You will forget me, Viktor Alexandritch,' said Akulina mournfully. +</p> + +<p> +'No, why so? I won't forget you; only you be sensible, don't be a fool; +obey your father.... And I won't forget you--no-o.' (And he placidly +stretched and yawned again.) +</p> + +<p> +'Don't forget me, Viktor Alexandritch,' she went on in a supplicating +voice. 'I think none could, love you as I do. I have given you +everything.... You tell me to obey my father, Viktor Alexandritch.... +But how can I obey my father?...' +</p> + +<p> +'Why not?' (He uttered these words, as it were, from his stomach, lying +on his back with his hands behind his head.) +</p> + +<p> +'But how can I, Viktor Alexandritch?--you know yourself...' +</p> + +<p> +She broke off. Viktor played with his steel watch-chain. +</p> + +<p> +'You're not a fool, Akulina,' he said at last, 'so don't talk nonsense. +I desire your good--do you understand me? To be sure, you're not a +fool--not altogether a mere rustic, so to say; and your mother, too, +wasn't always a peasant. Still you've no education--so you ought to do +what you're told.' +</p> + +<p> +'But it's fearful, Viktor Alexandritch.' +</p> + +<p> +'O-oh! that's nonsense, my dear; a queer thing to be afraid of! What +have you got there?' he added, moving closer to her; 'flowers?' +</p> + +<p> +'Yes,' Akulina responded dejectedly. 'That's some wild tansy I picked,' +she went on, brightening up a little; 'it's good for calves. And this is +bud-marigold--against the king's evil. Look, what an exquisite flower! +I've never seen such a lovely flower before. These are forget-me-nots, +and that's mother-darling.... And these I picked for you,' she added, +taking from under a yellow tansy a small bunch of blue corn-flowers, +tied up with a thin blade of grass.' Do you like them?' +</p> + +<p> +Viktor languidly held out his hand, took the flowers, carelessly sniffed +at them, and began twirling them in his fingers, looking upwards. +Akulina watched him.... In her mournful eyes there was such tender +devotion, adoring submission and love. She was afraid of him, and did +not dare to cry, and was saying good-bye to him and admiring him for the +last time; while he lay, lolling like a sultan, and with magnanimous +patience and condescension put up with her adoration. I must own, I +glared indignantly at his red face, on which, under the affectation of +scornful indifference, one could discern vanity soothed and satisfied. +Akulina was so sweet at that instant; her whole soul was confidingly and +passionately laid bare before him, full of longing and caressing +tenderness, while he... he dropped the corn-flowers on the grass, +pulled out of the side pocket of his coat a round eye-glass set in a +brass rim, and began sticking it in his eye; but however much he tried +to hold it with his frowning eyebrow, his pursed-up cheek and nose, the +eye-glass kept tumbling out and falling into his hand. +</p> + +<p> +'What is it?' Akulina asked at last in wonder. +</p> + +<p> +'An eye-glass,' he answered with dignity. +</p> + +<p> +'What for?' +</p> + +<p> +'Why, to see better.' +</p> + +<p> +'Show me.' +</p> + +<p> +Viktor scowled, but gave her the glass. +</p> + +<p> +'Don't break it; look out.' +</p> + +<p> +'No fear, I won't break it.' (She put it to her eye.) 'I see nothing,' +she said innocently. +</p> + +<p> +'But you must shut your eye,' he retorted in the tones of a displeased +teacher. (She shut the eye before which she held the glass.) +</p> + +<p> +'Not that one, not that one, you fool! the other!' cried Viktor, and he +took away his eye-glass, without allowing her to correct her mistake. +</p> + +<p> +Akulina flushed a little, gave a faint laugh, and turned away. +</p> + +<p> +'It's clear it's not for the likes of us,' she said. +</p> + +<p> +'I should think not, indeed!' +</p> + +<p> +The poor girl was silent and gave a deep sigh. +</p> + +<p> +'Ah, Viktor Alexandritch, what it will be like for me to be without +you!' she said suddenly. +</p> + +<p> +Victor rubbed the glass on the lappet of his coat and put it back in his +pocket. +</p> + +<p> +'Yes, yes,'he said at last, 'at first it will be hard for you, +certainly.' (He patted her condescendingly on the shoulder; she softly +took his hand from her shoulder and timidly kissed it.) 'There, there, +you're a good girl, certainly,' he went on, with a complacent smile; +'but what's to be done? You can see for yourself! me and the master +could never stay on here; it will soon be winter now, and winter in the +country--you know yourself--is simply disgusting. It's quite another +thing in Petersburg! There there are simply such wonders as a silly girl +like you could never fancy in your dreams! Such horses and streets, and +society, and civilisation--simply marvellous!...' (Akulina listened with +devouring attention, her lips slightly parted, like a child.) 'But +what's the use,' he added, turning over on the ground, 'of my telling +you all this? Of course, you can't understand it!' +</p> + +<p> +'Why so, Viktor Alexandritch! I understand; I understood everything.' +</p> + +<p> +'My eye, what a girl it is!' +</p> + +<p> +Akulina looked down. +</p> + +<p> +'You used not to talk to me like that once, Viktor Alexandritch,' she +said, not lifting her eyes. +</p> + +<p> +'Once?... once!... My goodness!' he remarked, as though in indignation. +</p> + +<p> +They both were silent. +</p> + +<p> +'It's time I was going,' said Viktor, and he was already rising on to +his elbow. +</p> + +<p> +'Wait a little longer,' Akulina besought him in a supplicating voice. +</p> + +<p> +'What for?... Why, I've said good-bye to you.' +</p> + +<p> +'Wait a little,' repeated Akulina. +</p> + +<p> +Viktor lay down again and began whistling. Akulina never took her eyes +off him. I could see that she was gradually being overcome by emotion; +her lips twitched, her pale cheeks faintly glowed. +</p> + +<p> +'Viktor Alexandritch,' she began at last in a broken voice, 'it's too +bad of you... it is too bad of you, Viktor Alexandritch, indeed it is!' +</p> + +<p> +'What's too bad?' he asked frowning, and he slightly raised his head and +turned it towards her. +</p> + +<p> +'It's too bad, Viktor Alexandritch. You might at least say one kind word +to me at parting; you might have said one little word to me, a poor +luckless forlorn.'... +</p> + +<p> +'But what am I to say to you?' +</p> + +<p> +'I don't know; you know that best, Viktor Alexandritch. Here you are +going away, and one little word.... What have I done to deserve it?' +</p> + +<p> +'You're such a queer creature! What can I do?' +</p> + +<p> +'One word at least.' +</p> + +<p> +'There, she keeps on at the same thing,' he commented with annoyance, +and he got up. +</p> + +<p> +'Don't be angry, Viktor Alexandritch,' she added hurriedly, with +difficulty suppressing her tears. +</p> + +<p> +I'm not angry, only you're silly.... What do you want? You know I can't +marry you, can I? I can't, can I? What is it you want then, eh?' (He +thrust his face forward as though expecting an answer, and spread his +fingers out.) +</p> + +<p> +'I want nothing... nothing,' she answered falteringly, and she ventured +to hold out her trembling hands to him; 'but only a word at parting.' +</p> + +<p> +And her tears fell in a torrent. +</p> + +<p> +'There, that means she's gone off into crying,' said Viktor coolly, +pushing down his cap on to his eyes. +</p> + +<p> +'I want nothing,' she went on, sobbing and covering her face with her +hands; 'but what is there before me in my family? what is there before +me? what will happen to me? what will become of me, poor wretch? They +will marry me to a hateful... poor forsaken... Poor me!' +</p> + +<p> +'Sing away, sing away,' muttered Viktor in an undertone, fidgeting with +impatience as he stood. +</p> + +<p> +'And he might say one word, one word.... He might say, "Akulina... I..."' +</p> + +<p> +Sudden heart-breaking sobs prevented her from finishing; she lay with +her face in the grass and bitterly, bitterly she wept.... Her whole body +shook convulsively, her neck fairly heaved.... Her long-suppressed grief +broke out in a torrent at last. Viktor stood over her, stood a moment, +shrugged his shoulders, turned away and strode off. +</p> + +<p> +A few instants passed... she grew calmer, raised her head, jumped up, +looked round and wrung her hands; she tried to run after him, but her +legs gave way under her--she fell on her knees.... I could not refrain +from rushing up to her; but, almost before she had time to look at me, +making a superhuman effort she got up with a faint shriek and vanished +behind the trees, leaving her flowers scattered on the ground. +</p> + +<p> +I stood a minute, picked up the bunch of cornflowers, and went out of +the wood into the open country. The sun had sunk low in the pale clear +sky; its rays too seemed to have grown pale and chill; they did not +shine; they were diffused in an unbroken, watery light. It was within +half-an-hour of sunset, but there was scarcely any of the glow of +evening. A gusty wind scurried to meet me across the yellow parched +stubble; little curled-up leaves, scudding hurriedly before it, flew by +across the road, along the edge of the copse; the side of the copse +facing the fields like a wall, was all shaking and lighted up by tiny +gleams, distinct, but not glowing; on the reddish plants, the blades of +grass, the straws on all sides, were sparkling and stirring innumerable +threads of autumn spider-webs. I stopped... I felt sad at heart: under +the bright but chill smile of fading nature, the dismal dread of coming +winter seemed to steal upon me. High overhead flew a cautious crow, +heavily and sharply cleaving the air with his wings; he turned his head, +looked sideways at me, flapped his wings and, cawing abruptly, vanished +behind the wood; a great flock of pigeons flew up playfully from a +threshing floor, and suddenly eddying round in a column, scattered +busily about the country. Sure sign of autumn! Some one came driving +over the bare hillside, his empty cart rattling loudly.... +</p> + +<p> +I turned homewards; but it was long before the figure of poor Akulina +faded out of my mind, and her cornflowers, long since withered, are +still in my keeping. +</p> + +<p><br /><br /><br /></p> + +<h3> +<a id="chap20"></a> +XX +</h3> + +<h3> +THE HAMLET OF THE SHTCHIGRI DISTRICT +</h3> + +<p> +On one of my excursions I received an invitation to dine at the house of +a rich landowner and sportsman, Alexandr Mihalitch G----. His property +was four miles from the small village where I was staying at the time. I +put on a frock-coat, an article without which I advise no one to travel, +even on a hunting expedition, and betook myself to Alexandr Mihalitch's. +The dinner was fixed for six o'clock; I arrived at five, and found +already a great number of gentlemen in uniforms, in civilian dress, and +other nondescript garments. My host met me cordially, but soon hurried +away to the butler's pantry. He was expecting a great dignitary, and was +in a state of agitation not quite in keeping with his independent +position in society and his wealth. Alexandr Mihalitch had never +married, and did not care for women; his house was the centre of a +bachelor society. He lived in grand style; he had enlarged and +sumptuously redecorated his ancestral mansion, spent fifteen thousand +roubles on wine from Moscow every year, and enjoyed the highest public +consideration. Alexandr Mihalitch had retired from the service ages ago, +and had no ambition to gain official honours of any kind. What could +have induced him to go out of his way to procure a guest of high +official position, and to be in a state of excitement from early morning +on the day of the grand dinner? That remains buried in the obscurity of +the unknown, as a friend of mine, an attorney, is in the habit of saying +when he is asked whether he takes bribes when kindly-disposed persons +offer them. +</p> + +<p> +On parting from my host, I began walking through the rooms. Almost all +the guests were utterly unknown to me: about twenty persons were already +seated at the card-tables. Among these devotees of preference were two +warriors, with aristocratic but rather battered countenances, a few +civilian officials, with tight high cravats and drooping dyed +moustaches, such as are only to be found in persons of resolute +character and strict conservative opinions: these conservative persons +picked up their cards with dignity, and, without turning their heads, +glared sideways at everyone who approached; and five or six local petty +officials, with fair round bellies, fat, moist little hands, and staid, +immovable little legs. These worthies spoke in a subdued voice, smiled +benignly in all directions, held their cards close up to their very +shirt-fronts, and when they trumped did not flap their cards on the +table, but, on the contrary, shed them with an undulatory motion on the +green cloth, and packed their tricks together with a slight, unassuming, +and decorous swish. The rest of the company were sitting on sofas, or +hanging in groups about the doors or at the windows; one gentleman, no +longer young, though of feminine appearance, stood in a corner, +fidgeting, blushing, and twisting the seal of his watch over his stomach +in his embarrassment, though no one was paying any attention to him; +some others in swallow-tail coats and checked trousers, the handiwork of +the tailor and Perpetual Master of the Tailors Corporation, Firs +Klyuhin, were talking together with extraordinary ease and liveliness, +turning their bald, greasy heads from side to side unconstrainedly as +they talked; a young man of twenty, short-sighted and fair-haired, +dressed from head to foot in black, obviously shy, smiled +sarcastically.... +</p> + +<p> +I was beginning, however, to feel bored, when suddenly I was joined by a +young man, one Voinitsin by name, a student without a degree, who +resided in the house of Alexandr Mihalitch in the capacity of...it +would be hard to say precisely, of what. He was a first-rate shot, and +could train dogs. I had known him before in Moscow. He was one of those +young men who at every examination 'played at dumb-show,' that is to +say, did not answer a single word to the professor's questions. Such +persons were also designated 'the bearded students.' (You will gather +that this was in long past days.) This was how it used to be: they would +call Voinitsin, for example. Voinitsin, who had sat upright and +motionless in his place, bathed in a hot perspiration from head to foot, +slowly and aimlessly looked about him, got up, hurriedly buttoned up his +undergraduate's uniform, and edged up to the examiner's table. 'Take a +paper, please,' the professor would say to him pleasantly. Voinitsin +would stretch out his hand, and with trembling fingers fumble at the +pile of papers. 'No selecting, if you please,' observed, in a jarring +voice, an assistant-examiner, an irritable old gentleman, a professor in +some other faculty, conceiving a sudden hatred for the unlucky bearded +one. Voinitsin resigned himself to his fate, took a paper, showed the +number on it, and went and sat down by the window, while his predecessor +was answering his question. At the window Voinitsin never took his eyes +off his paper, except that at times he looked slowly round as before, +though he did not move a muscle. But his predecessor would finish at +last, and would be dismissed with, 'Good! you can go,' or even 'Good +indeed, very good!' according to his abilities. Then they call +Voinitsin: Voinitsin gets up, and with resolute step approaches the +table. 'Read your question,' they tell him. Voinitsin raises the paper +in both hands up to his very nose, slowly reads it, and slowly drops his +hands. 'Well, now, your answer, please,' the same professor remarks +languidly, throwing himself backwards, and crossing his arms over his +breast. +</p> + +<p> +There reigns the silence of the tomb. 'Why are you silent?' Voinitsin is +mute. The assistant-examiner begins to be restive. 'Well, say +something!' Voinitsin is as still as if he were dead. All his companions +gaze inquisitively at the back of his thick, close-cropped, motionless +head. The assistant-examiner's eyes are almost starting out of his head; +he positively hates Voinitsin. 'Well, this is strange, really,' observes +the other examiner. 'Why do you stand as if you were dumb? Come, don't +you know it? if so, say so.' 'Let me take another question,' the +luckless youth articulates thickly. The professors look at one another.' +Well, take one,' the head-examiner answers, with a wave of the hand. +Voinitsin again takes a paper, again goes to the window, again returns +to the table, and again is silent as the grave. The assistant-examiner +is capable of devouring him alive. At last they send him away and mark +him a nought. You would think, 'Now, at least, he will go.' Not a bit of +it! He goes back to his place, sits just as immovably to the end of the +examination, and, as he goes out, exclaims: 'I've been on the rack! what +ill-luck!' and the whole of that day he wanders about Moscow, clutching +every now and then at his head, and bitterly cursing his luckless fate. +He never, of course, touched a book, and the next day the same story was +repeated. +</p> + +<p> +So this was the Voinitsin who joined me. We talked about Moscow, about +sport. +</p> + +<p> +'Would you like me,' he whispered to me suddenly, 'to introduce you to +the first wit of these parts?' +</p> + +<p> +'If you will be so kind.' +</p> + +<p> +Voinitsin led me up to a little man, with a high tuft of hair on his +forehead and moustaches, in a cinnamon-coloured frock-coat and striped +cravat. His yellow, mobile features were certainly full of cleverness +and sarcasm. His lips were perpetually curved in a flitting ironical +smile; little black eyes, screwed up with an impudent expression, looked +out from under uneven lashes. Beside him stood a country gentleman, +broad, soft, and sweet--a veritable sugar-and-honey mixture--with one +eye. He laughed in anticipation at the witticisms of the little man, and +seemed positively melting with delight. Voinitsin presented me to the +wit, whose name was Piotr Petrovitch Lupihin. We were introduced and +exchanged the preliminary civilities. +</p> + +<p> +'Allow me to present to you my best friend,' said Lupihin suddenly in a +strident voice, seizing the sugary gentleman by the arm. +</p> + +<p> +'Come, don't resist, Kirila Selifanitch,' he added; 'we're not going to +bite you. I commend him to you,' he went on, while the embarrassed +Kirila Selifanitch bowed with about as much grace as if he were +undergoing a surgical operation; 'he's a most superior gentleman. He +enjoyed excellent health up to the age of fifty, then suddenly conceived +the idea of doctoring his eyes, in consequence of which he has lost one. +Since then he doctors his peasants with similar success.... They, to be +sure, repay with similar devotion...' +</p> + +<p> +'What a fellow it is!' muttered Kirila Selifanitch. And he laughed. +</p> + +<p> +'Speak out, my friend; eh, speak out!' Lupihin rejoined. 'Why, they may +elect you a judge; I shouldn't wonder, and they will, too, you see. +Well, to be sure, the secretaries will do the thinking for you, we may +assume; but you know you'll have to be able to speak, anyhow, even if +only to express the ideas of others. Suppose the governor comes and +asks, "Why is it the judge stammers?" And they'd say, let's assume, +"It's a paralytic stroke." "Then bleed him," he'd say. And it would be +highly indecorous, in your position, you'll admit.' +</p> + +<p> +The sugary gentleman was positively rolling with mirth. +</p> + +<p> +'You see he laughs,' Lupihin pursued with a malignant glance at Kirila +Selifanitch's heaving stomach. 'And why shouldn't he laugh?' he added, +turning to me: 'he has enough to eat, good health, and no children; his +peasants aren't mortgaged--to be sure, he doctors them--and his wife is +cracked.' (Kirila Selifanitch turned a little away as though he were not +listening, but he still continued to chuckle.) 'I laugh too, while my +wife has eloped with a land-surveyor.' (He grinned.) 'Didn't you know +that? What! Why, one fine day she ran away with him and left me a +letter. +</p> + +<p> +"Dear Piotr Petrovitch," she said, "forgive me: carried away by passion, +I am leaving with the friend of my heart."... And the land-surveyor only +took her fancy through not cutting his nails and wearing tight trousers. +You're surprised at that? "Why, this," she said, "is a man with no +dissimulation about him."... But mercy on us! Rustic fellows like us +speak the truth too plainly. But let us move away a bit.... It's not for +us to stand beside a future judge.'... +</p> + +<p> +He took me by the arm, and we moved away to a window. +</p> + +<p> +'I've the reputation of a wit here,' he said to me, in the course of +conversation. 'You need not believe that. I'm simply an embittered man, +and I do my railing aloud: that's how it is I'm so free and easy in my +speech. And why should I mince matters, if you come to that; I don't +care a straw for anyone's opinion, and I've nothing to gain; I'm +spiteful--what of that? A spiteful man, at least, needs no wit. And, +however enlightening it may be, you won't believe it.... I say, now, I +say, look at our host! There! what is he running to and fro like that +for? Upon my word, he keeps looking at his watch, smiling, perspiring, +putting on a solemn face, keeping us all starving for our dinner! Such a +prodigy! a real court grandee! Look, look, he's running again--bounding, +positively, look!' +</p> + +<p> +And Lupihin laughed shrilly. +</p> + +<p> +'The only pity is, there are no ladies,' he resumed with a deep sigh; +'it's a bachelor party, else that's when your humble servant gets on. +Look, look,' he cried suddenly: 'Prince Kozelsky's come--that tall man +there, with a beard, in yellow gloves. You can see at once he's been +abroad... and he always arrives as late. He's as heavy, I tell you, by +himself, as a pair of merchant's horses, and you should see how +condescendingly he talks with your humble servant, how graciously he +deigns to smile at the civilities of our starving mothers and +daughters!... And he sometimes sets up for a wit, but he is only here +for a little time; and oh, his witticisms! It's for all the world like +hacking at a ship's cable with a blunt knife. He can't bear me.... I'm +going to bow to him.' +</p> + +<p> +And Lupihin ran off to meet the prince. +</p> + +<p> +'And here comes my special enemy,' he observed, turning all at once to +me. 'Do you see that fat man with the brown face and the bristles on his +head, over there, that's got his cap clutched in his hand, and is +creeping along by the wall and glaring in all directions like a wolf? I +sold him for 400 roubles a horse worth 1000, and that stupid animal has +a perfect right now to despise me; though all the while he is so +destitute of all faculty of imagination, especially in the morning +before his tea, or after dinner, that if you say "Good morning!" to him, +he'll answer, "Is it?" 'And here comes the general,' pursued Lupihin, +'the civilian general, a retired, destitute general. He has a daughter +of beetroot-sugar, and a manufactory with scrofula.... Beg pardon, I've +got it wrong... but there, you understand. Ah! and the architect's +turned up here! A German, and wears moustaches, and does not understand +his business--a natural phenomenon!... though what need for him to +understand his business so long as he takes bribes and sticks in pillars +everywhere to suit the tastes of our pillars of society!' +</p> + +<p> +Lupihin chuckled again.... But suddenly a wave of excitement passed over +the whole house. The grandee had arrived. The host positively rushed +into the hall. After him ran a few devoted members of the household and +eager guests.... The noisy talk was transformed into a subdued pleasant +chat, like the buzzing of bees in spring within their hives. Only the +turbulent wasp, Lupihin, and the splendid drone, Kozelsky, did not +subdue their voices.... And behold, at last, the queen!--the great +dignitary entered. Hearts bounded to meet him, sitting bodies rose; even +the gentleman who had bought a horse from Lupihin poked his chin into +his chest. The great personage kept up his dignity in an inimitable +manner; throwing his head back, as though he were bowing, he uttered a +few words of approbation, of which each was prefaced by the syllable +<i>er</i>, drawled through his nose; with a sort of devouring indignation +he looked at Prince Kozelsky's democratic beard, and gave the destitute +general with the factory and the daughter the forefinger of his right +hand. After a few minutes, in the course of which the dignitary had had +time to observe twice that he was very glad he was not late for dinner, +the whole company trooped into the dining-room, the swells first. +</p> + +<p> +There is no need to describe to the reader how they put the great man in +the most important place, between the civilian general and the marshal +of the province, a man of an independent and dignified expression of +face, in perfect keeping with his starched shirt-front, his expanse of +waistcoat, and his round snuff-box full of French snuff; how our host +bustled about, and ran up and down, fussing and pressing the guests to +eat, smiling at the great man's back in passing, and hurriedly snatching +a plate of soup or a bit of bread in a corner like a schoolboy; how the +butler brought in a fish more than a yard long, with a nosegay in its +mouth; how the surly-looking foot-men in livery sullenly plied every +gentleman, now with Malaga, now dry Madeira; and how almost all the +gentlemen, particularly the more elderly ones, drank off glass after +glass with an air of reluctantly resigning themselves to a sense of +duty; and finally, how they began popping champagne bottles and +proposing toasts: all that is probably only too well known to the +reader. But what struck me as especially noteworthy was the anecdote +told us by the great man himself amid a general delighted silence. +Someone--I fancy it was the destitute general, a man familiar with +modern literature--referred to the influence of women in general, and +especially on young men. 'Yes, yes,' chimed in the great man, 'that's +true; but young men ought to be kept in strict subjection, or else, very +likely, they'll go out of their senses over every petticoat.' (A smile +of child-like delight flitted over the faces of all the guests; positive +gratitude could be seen in one gentleman's eyes.) 'For young men are +idiots.' (The great man, I suppose for the sake of greater +impressiveness, sometimes changed the accepted accentuation of words.) +</p> + +<p> +'My son, Ivan, for instance,' he went on; 'the fool's only just +twenty--and all at once he comes to me and says: "Let me be married, +father." I told him he was a fool; told him he must go into the service +first.... Well, there was despair--tears... but with me... no +nonsense.' (The words 'no nonsense' the great man seemed to enunciate +more with his stomach than his lips; he paused and glanced majestically +at his neighbour, the general, while he raised his eyebrows higher than +any one could have expected. The civilian general nodded agreeably a +little on one side, and with extraordinary rapidity winked with the eye +turned to the great man.) 'And what do you think?' the great man began +again: 'now he writes to me himself, and thanks me for looking after him +when he was a fool.... So that's the way to act.' All the guests, of +course, were in complete agreement with the speaker, and seemed quite +cheered up by the pleasure and instruction they derived from him.... +After dinner, the whole party rose and moved into the drawing-room with +a great deal of noise--decorous, however; and, as it were, licensed for +the occasion.... They sat down to cards. +</p> + +<p> +I got through the evening somehow, and charging my coachman to have my +carriage ready at five o'clock next morning, I went to my room. But I +was destined, in the course of that same day, to make the acquaintance +of a remarkable man. +</p> + +<p> +In consequence of the great number of guests staying in the house, no +one had a bedroom to himself. In the small, greenish, damp room to which +I was conducted by Alexandr Mihalitch's butler, there was already +another guest, quite undressed. On seeing me, he quickly ducked under +the bed-clothes, covered himself up to the nose, turned a little on the +soft feather-bed, and lay quiet, keeping a sharp look-out from under the +round frill of his cotton night-cap. I went up to the other bed (there +were only two in the room), undressed, and lay down in the damp sheets. +My neighbour turned over in bed.... I wished him good-night. +</p> + +<p> +Half-an-hour went by. In spite of all my efforts, I could not get to +sleep: aimless and vague thoughts kept persistently and monotonously +dragging one after another on an endless chain, like the buckets of a +hydraulic machine. +</p> + +<p> +'You're not asleep, I fancy?' observed my neighbour. +</p> + +<p> +'No, as you see,' I answered. 'And you're not sleepy either, are you?' +</p> + +<p> +'I'm never sleepy.' +</p> + +<p> +'How's that?' +</p> + +<p> +'Oh! I go to sleep--I don't know what for. I lie in bed, and lie in bed, +and so get to sleep.' +</p> + +<p> +'Why do you go to bed before you feel sleepy?' +</p> + +<p> +'Why, what would you have me do?' +</p> + +<p> +I made no answer to my neighbour's question. +</p> + +<p> +'I wonder,' he went on, after a brief silence, 'how it is there are no +fleas here? Where should there be fleas if not here, one wonders?' +</p> + +<p> +'You seem to regret them,' I remarked. +</p> + +<p> +'No, I don't regret them; but I like everything to be consecutive.' +</p> + +<p> +'O-ho!' thought I; 'what words he uses.' +</p> + +<p> +My neighbour was silent again. +</p> + +<p> +'Would you like to make a bet with me?' he said again, rather loudly. +</p> + +<p> +'What about?' +</p> + +<p> +I began to be amused by him. +</p> + +<p> +'Hm... what about? Why, about this: I'm certain you take me for a +fool.' +</p> + +<p> +'Really,' I muttered, astounded. +</p> + +<p> +'For an ignoramus, for a rustic of the steppes.... Confess....' +</p> + +<p> +'I haven't the pleasure of knowing you,' I responded. 'What can make you +infer?...' +</p> + +<p> +'Why, the sound of your voice is enough; you answer me so carelessly.... +But I'm not at all what you suppose....' +</p> + +<p> +'Allow me....' +</p> + +<p> +'No, you allow me. In the first place, I speak French as well as you, +and German even better; secondly, I have spent three years abroad--in +Berlin alone I lived eight months. I've studied Hegel, honoured sir; I +know Goethe by heart: add to that, I was a long while in love with a +German professor's daughter, and was married at home to a consumptive +lady, who was bald, but a remarkable personality. So I'm a bird of your +feather; I'm not a barbarian of the steppes, as you imagine.... I too +have been bitten by reflection, and there's nothing obvious about me.' +</p> + +<p> +I raised my head and looked with redoubled attention at the queer +fellow. By the dim light of the night-lamp I could hardly distinguish +his features. +</p> + +<p> +'There, you're looking at me now,' he went on, setting his night-cap +straight, 'and probably you're asking yourself, "How is it I didn't +notice him to-day?" I'll tell you why you didn't notice me: because I +didn't raise my voice; because I get behind other people, hang about +doorways, and talk to no one; because, when the butler passes me with a +tray, he raises his elbow to the level of my shoulder.... And how is it +all that comes about? From two causes: first, I'm poor; and secondly, +I've grown humble.... Tell the truth, you didn't notice me, did you?' +</p> + +<p> +'Certainly, I've not had the pleasure....' +</p> + +<p> +'There, there,' he interrupted me, 'I knew that.' +</p> + +<p> +He raised himself and folded his arms; the long shadow of his cap was +bent from the wall to the ceiling. +</p> + +<p> +'And confess, now,' he added, with a sudden sideway glance at me; 'I +must strike you as a queer fellow, an original, as they say, or possibly +as something worse: perhaps you think I affect to be original!' +</p> + +<p> +'I must repeat again that I don't know you....' +</p> + +<p> +He looked down an instant. +</p> + +<p> +'Why have I begun talking so unexpectedly to you, a man utterly a +stranger?--the Lord, the Lord only knows!' (He sighed.) 'Not through the +natural affinity of our souls! Both you and I are respectable people, +that's to say, egoists: neither of us has the least concern with the +other; isn't it so? But we are neither of us sleepy... so why not chat? +I'm in the mood, and that's rare with me. I'm shy, do you see? and not +shy because I'm a provincial, of no rank and poor, but because I'm a +fearfully vain person. But at times, under favourable circumstances, +occasions which I could not, however, particularise nor foresee, my +shyness vanishes completely, as at this moment, for instance. At this +moment you might set me face to face with the Grand Lama, and I'd ask +him for a pinch of snuff. But perhaps you want to go to sleep?' +</p> + +<p> +'Quite the contrary,' I hastened to respond; 'it is a pleasure for me to +talk to you.' +</p> + +<p> +'That is, I amuse you, you mean to say.... All the better.... And so, I +tell you, they call me here an original; that's what they call me when +my name is casually mentioned, among other gossip. No one is much +concerned about my fate.... They think it wounds me.... Oh, good Lord! +if they only knew... it's just what's my ruin, that there is absolutely +nothing original in me--nothing, except such freaks as, for instance, my +conversation at this moment with you; but such freaks are not worth a +brass farthing. That's the cheapest and lowest sort of originality.' +</p> + +<p> +He turned facing me, and waved his hands. +</p> + +<p> +'Honoured sir!' he cried, 'I am of the opinion that life on earth's only +worth living, as a rule, for original people; it's only they who have a +right to live. <i>Man verre n'est pas grand, maisje bois dans mon +verre,</i> said someone. Do you see,' he added in an undertone, 'how +well I pronounce French? What is it to one if one's a capacious brain, +and understands everything, and knows a lot, and keeps pace with the +age, if one's nothing of one's own, of oneself! One more storehouse for +hackneyed commonplaces in the world; and what good does that do to +anyone? No, better be stupid even, but in one's own way! One should have +a flavour of one's own, one's individual flavour; that's the thing! And +don't suppose that I am very exacting as to that flavour.... God forbid! +There are no end of original people of the sort I mean: look where you +will--there's an original: every live man is an original; but I am not +to be reckoned among them!' +</p> + +<p> +'And yet,' he went on, after a brief silence, 'in my youth what +expectations I aroused! What a high opinion I cherished of my own +individuality before I went abroad, and even, at first, after my return! +Well, abroad I kept my ears open, held aloof from everyone, as befits a +man like me, who is always seeing through things by himself, and at the +end has not understood the A B C!' +</p> + +<p> +'An original, an original!' he hurried on, shaking his head +reproachfully....' They call me an original.... In reality, it turns out +that there's not a man in the world less original than your humble +servant. I must have been born even in imitation of someone else.... Oh, +dear! It seems I am living, too, in imitation of the various authors +studied by me; in the sweat of my brow I live: and I've studied, and +fallen in love, and married, in fact, as it were, not through my own +will--as it were, fulfilling some sort of duty, or sort of fate--who's +to make it out?' +</p> + +<p> +He tore the nightcap off his head and flung it on the bed. +</p> + +<p> +'Would you like me to tell you the story of my life?' he asked me in an +abrupt voice; 'or, rather, a few incidents of my life?' +</p> + +<p> +'Please do me the favour.' +</p> + +<p> +'Or, no, I'd better tell you how I got married. You see marriage is an +important thing, the touchstone that tests the whole man: in it, as in a +glass, is reflected.... But that sounds too hackneyed.... If you'll +allow me, I'll take a pinch of snuff.' +</p> + +<p> +He pulled a snuff-box from under his pillow, opened it, and began again, +waving the open snuff-box about. +</p> + +<p> +'Put yourself, honoured sir, in my place.... Judge for yourself, what, +now what, tell me as a favour: what benefit could I derive from the +encyclopaedia of Hegel? What is there in common, tell me, between that +encyclopaedia and Russian life? and how would you advise me to apply it +to our life, and not it, the encyclopaedia only, but German philosophy in +general.... I will say more--science itself?' +</p> + +<p> +He gave a bound on the bed and muttered to himself, gnashing his teeth +angrily. +</p> + +<p> +'Ah, that's it, that's it!... Then why did you go trailing off abroad? +Why didn't you stay at home and study the life surrounding you on the +spot? You might have found out its needs and its future, and have come +to a clear comprehension of your vocation, so to say.... But, upon my +word,' he went on, changing his tone again as though timidly justifying +himself, 'where is one to study what no sage has yet inscribed in any +book? I should have been glad indeed to take lessons of her--of Russian +life, I mean--but she's dumb, the poor dear. You must take her as she +is; but that's beyond my power: you must give me the inference; you must +present me with a conclusion. Here you have a conclusion too: listen to +our wise men of Moscow--they're a set of nightingales worth listening +to, aren't they? Yes, that's the pity of it, that they pipe away like +Kursk nightingales, instead of talking as the people talk.... Well, I +thought, and thought--"Science, to be sure," I thought, "is everywhere +the same, and truth is the same"--so I was up and off, in God's name, to +foreign parts, to the heathen.... What would you have? I was infatuated +with youth and conceit; I didn't want, you know, to get fat before my +time, though they say it's healthy. Though, indeed, if nature doesn't +put the flesh on your bones, you won't see much fat on your body!' +</p> + +<p> +'But I fancy,' he added, after a moment's thought, 'I promised to tell +you how I got married--listen. First, I must tell you that my wife is no +longer living; secondly... secondly, I see I must give you some account +of my youth, or else you won't be able to make anything out of it.... +But don't you want to go to sleep?' +</p> + +<p> +'No, I'm not sleepy.' +</p> + +<p> +'That's good news. Hark!... how vulgarly Mr. Kantagryuhin is snoring in +the next room! I was the son of parents of small property--I say +parents, because, according to tradition, I had once had a father as +well as a mother, I don't remember him: he was a narrow-minded man, I've +been told, with a big nose, freckles, and red hair; he used to take +snuff on one side of his nose only; his portrait used to hang in my +mother's bedroom, and very hideous he was in a red uniform with a black +collar up to his ears. They used to take me to be whipped before him, +and my mother used always on such occasions to point to him, saying, "He +would give it to you much more if he were here." You can imagine what an +encouraging effect that had on me. I had no brother nor sister--that's +to say, speaking accurately, I had once had a brother knocking about, +with the English disease in his neck, but he soon died.... And why ever, +one wonders, should the English disease make its way to the Shtchigri +district of the province of Kursk? But that's neither here nor there. My +mother undertook my education with all the vigorous zeal of a country +lady of the steppes: she undertook it from the solemn day of my birth +till the time when my sixteenth year had come.... You are following my +story?' +</p> + +<p> +'Yes, please go on.' +</p> + +<p> +'All right. Well, when I was sixteen, my mother promptly dismissed my +teacher of French, a German, Filipóvitch, from the Greek settlement of +Nyezhin. She conducted me to Moscow, put down my name for the +university, and gave up her soul to the Almighty, leaving me in the +hands of my uncle, the attorney Koltun-Babur, one of a sort well-known +not only in the Shtchigri district. My uncle, the attorney Koltun-Babur, +plundered me to the last half-penny, after the custom of guardians.... +But again that's neither here nor there. I entered the university--I +must do so much justice to my mother--rather well grounded; but my lack +of originality was even then apparent. My childhood was in no way +distinguished from the childhood of other boys; I grew up just as +languidly and dully--much as if I were under a feather-bed--just as +early I began repeating poetry by heart and moping under the pretence of +a dreamy inclination... for what?--why, for the beautiful... and so +on. In the university I went on in the same way; I promptly got into a +"circle." Times were different then.... But you don't know, perhaps, +what sort of thing a student's "circle" is? I remember Schiller said +somewhere: +</p> + +<p class="poem"> + <i>Gefährlich ist's den Leu zu wecken<br /> + Und schrecklich ist des Tigers Zahn,<br /> + Doch das schrecklichste der Schrecken<br /> + Das ist der Mensch in seinem Wahn!</i><br /> +</p> + +<p><br /></p> + +<p> +He didn't mean that, I can assure you; he meant to say: <i>Das ist +ein</i> circle <i>in der Stadt Moskau</i>!' +</p> + +<p> +'But what do you find so awful in the circle?' I asked. +</p> + +<p> +My neighbour snatched his cap and pulled it down on to his nose. +</p> + +<p> +'What do I find so awful?' he shouted. 'Why, this: the circle is the +destruction of all independent development; the circle is a hideous +substitute for society, woman, life; the circle... oh, wait a bit, I'll +tell you what a circle is! A circle is a slothful, dull living side by +side in common, to which is attached a serious significance and a show +of rational activity; the circle replaces conversation by debate, trains +you in fruitless discussion, draws you away from solitary, useful +labour, develops in you the itch for authorship--deprives you, in fact, +of all freshness and virgin vigour of soul. The circle--why, it's +vulgarity and boredom under the name of brotherhood and friendship! a +concatenation of misunderstandings and cavillings under the pretence of +openness and sympathy: in the circle--thanks to the right of every +friend, at all hours and seasons, to poke his unwashed fingers into the +very inmost soul of his comrade--no one has a single spot in his soul +pure and undefiled; in the circle they fall down before the shallow, +vain, smart talker and the premature wise-acre, and worship the +rhymester with no poetic gift, but full of "subtle" ideas; in the circle +young lads of seventeen talk glibly and learnedly of women and of love, +while in the presence of women they are dumb or talk to them like a +book--and what do they talk about? The circle is the hot-bed of glib +fluency; in the circle they spy on one another like so many police +officials.... Oh, circle! thou'rt not a circle, but an enchanted ring, +which has been the ruin of many a decent fellow!' +</p> + +<p> +'Come, you're exaggerating, allow me to observe,' I broke in. +</p> + +<p> +My neighbour looked at me in silence. +</p> + +<p> +'Perhaps, God knows, perhaps. But, you see, there's only one pleasure +left your humble servant, and that's exaggeration--well, that was the +way I spent four years in Moscow. I can't tell you, my dear sir, how +quickly, how fearfully quickly, that time passed; it's positively +painful and vexatious to remember. Some mornings one gets up, and it's +like sliding downhill on little sledges.... Before one can look round, +one's flown to the bottom; it's evening already, and already the sleepy +servant is pulling on one's coat; one dresses, and trails off to a +friend, and may be smokes a pipe, drinks weak tea in glasses, and +discusses German philosophy, love, the eternal sunshine of the spirit, +and other far-fetched topics. But even there I met original, independent +people: however some men stultify themselves and warp themselves out of +shape, still nature asserts itself; I alone, poor wretch, moulded myself +like soft wax, and my pitiful little nature never made the faintest +resistance! Meantime I had reached my twenty-first year. I came into +possession of my inheritance, or, more correctly speaking, that part of +my inheritance which my guardian had thought fit to leave me, gave a +freed house-serf Vassily Kudryashev a warranty to superintend all my +patrimony, and set off abroad to Berlin. I was abroad, as I have already +had the pleasure of telling you, three years. Well. There too, abroad +too, I remained the same unoriginal creature. In the first place, I need +not say that of Europe, of European life, I really learnt nothing. I +listened to German professors and read German books on their birthplace: +that was all the difference. I led as solitary a life as any monk; I got +on good terms with a retired lieutenant, weighed down, like myself, by a +thirst for knowledge but always dull of comprehension, and not gifted +with a flow of words; I made friends with slow-witted families from +Penza and other agricultural provinces, hung about <i>cafés</i>, read +the papers, in the evening went to the theatre. With the natives I +associated very little; I talked to them with constraint, and never had +one of them to see me at my own place, except two or three intrusive +fellows of Jewish extraction, who were constantly running in upon me and +borrowing money--thanks to <i>der Russe's</i> gullibility. A strange +freak of chance brought me at last to the house of one of my professors. +It was like this: I came to him to enter my name for a course of +lectures, and he, all of a sudden, invited me to an evening party at his +house. This professor had two daughters, of twenty-seven, such stumpy +little things--God bless them!--with such majestic noses, frizzed curls +and pale-blue eyes, and red hands with white nails. One was called +Linchen and the other Minchen. I began to go to the professor's. I ought +to tell you that the professor was not exactly stupid, but seemed, as it +were, dazed: in his professorial desk he spoke fairly consecutively, but +at home he lisped, and always had his spectacles on his forehead--he was +a very learned man, though. Well, suddenly it seemed to me that I was in +love with Linchen, and for six whole months this impression remained. I +talked to her, it's true, very little--it was more that I looked at her; +but I used to read various touching passages aloud to her, to press her +hand on the sly, and to dream beside her in the evenings, gazing +persistently at the moon, or else simply up aloft. Besides, she made +such delicious coffee! One asks oneself--what more could one desire? +Only one thing troubled me: at the very moments of ineffable bliss, as +it's called, I always had a sort of sinking in the pit of the stomach, +and a cold shudder ran down my back. At last I could not stand such +happiness, and ran away. Two whole years after that I was abroad: I went +to Italy, stood before the Transfiguration in Rome, and before the Venus +in Florence, and suddenly fell into exaggerated raptures, as though an +attack of delirium had come upon me; in the evenings I wrote verses, +began a diary; in fact, there too I behaved just like everyone else. And +just mark how easy it is to be original! I take no interest, for +instance, in painting and sculpture.... But simply saying so aloud... +no, it was impossible! I must needs take a cicerone, and run to gaze at +the frescoes.'... +</p> + +<p> +He looked down again, and again pulled off his nightcap. +</p> + +<p> +'Well, I came back to my own country at last,' he went on in a weary +voice. 'I went to Moscow. In Moscow a marvellous transformation took +place in me. Abroad I was mostly silent, but now suddenly I began to +talk with unexpected smartness, and at the same time I began to conceive +all sorts of ideas of myself. There were kindly disposed persons to be +found, to whom I seemed all but a genius; ladies listened +sympathetically to my diatribes; but I was not able to keep on the +summit of my glory. One fine morning a slander sprang up about me (who +had originated it, I don't know; it must have been some old maid of the +male sex--there are any number of such old maids in Moscow); it sprang +up and began to throw off outshoots and tendrils like a strawberry +plant. I was abashed, tried to get out of it, to break through its +clinging toils--that was no good.... I went away. Well, in that too I +showed that I was an absurd person; I ought to have calmly waited for +the storm to blow over, just as one waits for the end of nettle-rash, +and the same kindly-disposed persons would have opened their arms to me +again, the same ladies would have smiled approvingly again at my +remarks.... But what's wrong is just that I'm not an original person. +Conscientious scruples, please to observe, had been stirred up in me; I +was somehow ashamed of talk, talk without ceasing, nothing but +talk--yesterday in Arbat, to-day in Truba, to-morrow in +Sivtsevy-Vrazhky, and all about the same thing.... But if that is what +people want of me? Look at the really successful men in that line: they +don't ask its use; on the contrary, it's all they need; some will keep +their tongues wagging twenty years together, and always in one +direction.... That's what comes of self-confidence and conceit! I had +that too, conceit--indeed, even now it's not altogether stifled.... But +what was wrong was that--I say again, I'm not an original person--I +stopped midway: nature ought to have given me far more conceit or none +at all. But at first I felt the change a very hard one; moreover, my +stay abroad too had utterly drained my resources, while I was not +disposed to marry a merchant's daughter, young, but flabby as a jelly, +so I retired to my country place. I fancy,' added my neighbour, with +another glance sideways at me, 'I may pass over in silence the first +impressions of country life, references to the beauty of nature, the +gentle charm of solitude, etc.' +</p> + +<p> +'You can, indeed,' I put in. +</p> + +<p> +'All the more,' he continued, 'as all that's nonsense; at least, as far +as I'm concerned. I was as bored in the country as a puppy locked up, +though I will own that on my journey home, when I passed through the +familiar birchwood in spring for the first time, my head was in a whirl +and my heart beat with a vague, sweet expectation. But these vague +expectations, as you're well aware, never come to pass; on the other +hand, very different things do come to pass, which you don't at all +expect, such as cattle disease, arrears, sales by auction, and so on, +and so on. I managed to make a shift from day to day with the aid of my +agent, Yakov, who replaced the former superintendent, and turned out in +the course of time to be as great, if not a greater robber, and over and +above that poisoned my existence by the smell of his tarred boots; +suddenly one day I remembered a family I knew in the neighbourhood, +consisting of the widow of a retired colonel and her two daughters, +ordered out my droshky, and set off to see them. That day must always be +a memorable one for me; six months later I was married to the retired +colonel's second daughter!...' +</p> + +<p> +The speaker dropped his head, and lifted his hands to heaven. +</p> + +<p> +'And now,' he went on warmly, 'I couldn't bear to give you an +unfavourable opinion of my late wife. Heaven forbid! She was the most +generous, sweetest creature, a loving nature capable of any sacrifice, +though I must between ourselves confess that if I had not had the +misfortune to lose her, I should probably not be in a position to be +talking to you to-day; since the beam is still there in my barn, to +which I repeatedly made up my mind to hang myself!' +</p> + +<p> +'Some pears,' he began again, after a brief pause, 'need to lie in an +underground cellar for a time, to come, as they say, to their real +flavour; my wife, it seems, belonged to a similar order of nature's +works. It's only now that I do her complete justice. It's only now, for +instance, that memories of some evenings I spent with her before +marriage no longer awaken the slightest bitterness, but move me almost +to tears. They were not rich people; their house was very old-fashioned +and built of wood, but comfortable; it stood on a hill between an +overgrown courtyard and a garden run wild. At the bottom of the hill ran +a river, which could just be seen through the thick leaves. A wide +terrace led from the house to the garden; before the terrace flaunted a +long flower-bed, covered with roses; at each end of the flower-bed grew +two acacias, which had been trained to grow into the shape of a screw by +its late owner. A little farther, in the very midst of a thicket of +neglected and overgrown raspberries, stood an arbour, smartly painted +within, but so old and tumble-down outside that it was depressing to +look at it. A glass door led from the terrace into the drawing-room; in +the drawing-room this was what met the eye of the inquisitive spectator: +in the various corners stoves of Dutch tiles, a squeaky piano to the +right, piled with manuscript music, a sofa, covered with faded blue +material with a whitish pattern, a round table, two what-nots of china +and glass, knicknacks of the Catherine period; on the wall the +well-known picture of a flaxen-haired girl with a dove on her breast and +eyes turned upwards; on the table a vase of fresh roses. You see how +minutely I describe it. In that drawing-room, on that terrace, was +rehearsed all the tragi-comedy of my love. The colonel's wife herself +was an ill-natured old dame, whose voice was always hoarse with spite--a +petty, snappish creature. Of the daughters, one, Vera, did not differ in +any respect from the common run of young ladies of the provinces; the +other, Sofya, I fell in love with. The two sisters had another little +room too, their common bedroom, with two innocent little wooden +bedsteads, yellowish albums, mignonette, portraits of friends sketched +in pencil rather badly (among them was one gentleman with an +exceptionally vigorous expression of face and a still more vigorous +signature, who had in his youth raised disproportionate expectations, +but had come, like all of us, to nothing), with busts of Goethe and +Schiller, German books, dried wreaths, and other objects, kept as +souvenirs. But that room I rarely and reluctantly entered; I felt +stifled there somehow. And, too, strange to say, I liked Sofya best of +all when I was sitting with my back to her, or still more, perhaps, when +I was thinking or dreaming about her in the evening on the terrace. At +such times I used to gaze at the sunset, at the trees, at the tiny +leaves, already in darkness, but standing out sharply against the rosy +sky; in the drawing-room Sofya sat at the piano continually playing over +and over again some favourite, passionately pathetic phrase from +Beethoven; the ill-natured old lady snored peacefully, sitting on the +sofa; in the dining-room, which was flooded by a glow of lurid light, +Vera was bustling about getting tea; the samovar hissed merrily as +though it were pleased at something; the cracknels snapped with a +pleasant crispness, and the spoons tinkled against the cups; the canary, +which trilled mercilessly all day, was suddenly still, and only +chirruped from time to time, as though asking for something; from a +light transparent cloud there fell a few passing drops of rain.... And I +would sit and sit, listen, listen, and look, my heart would expand, and +again it seemed to me that I was in love. Well, under the influence of +such an evening, I one day asked the old lady for her daughter's hand, +and two months later I was married. It seemed to me that I loved her.... +By now, indeed, it's time I should know, but, by God, even now I don't +know whether I loved Sofya. She was a sweet creature, clever, silent, +and warm-hearted, but God only knows from what cause, whether from +living too long in the country, or for some other reason, there was at +the bottom of her heart (if only there is a bottom to the heart) a +secret wound, or, to put it better, a little open sore which nothing +could heal, to which neither she nor I could give a name. Of the +existence of this sore, of course, I only guessed after marriage. The +struggles I had over it... nothing availed! When I was a child I had a +little bird, which had once been caught by the cat in its claws; it was +saved and tended, but the poor bird never got right; it moped, it pined, +it ceased to sing.... It ended by a cat getting into its open cage one +night and biting off its beak, after which it made up its mind at last +to die. I don't know what cat had caught my wife in its claws, but she +too moped and pined just like my unlucky bird. Sometimes she obviously +made an effort to shake herself, to rejoice in the open air, in the +sunshine and freedom; she would try, and shrink up into herself again. +And, you know she loved me; how many times has she assured me that she +had nothing left to wish for?--oof! damn my soul! and the light was +fading out of her eyes all the while. I wondered whether there hadn't +been something in her past. I made investigations: there was nothing +forthcoming. Well, you may form your own judgment; an original man would +have shrugged his shoulders and heaved a sigh or two, perhaps, and would +have proceeded to live his own life; but I, not being an original +creature, began to contemplate a beam and halter. My wife was so +thoroughly permeated by all the habits of an old maid--Beethoven, +evening walks, mignonette, corresponding with her friends, albums, et +cetera--that she never could accustom herself to any other mode of life, +especially to the life of the mistress of a house; and yet it seemed +absurd for a married woman to be pining in vague melancholy and singing +in the evening: "Waken her not at the dawn!" +</p> + +<p> +'Well, we were blissful after that fashion for three years; in the +fourth, Sofya died in her first confinement, and, strange to say, I had +felt, as it were, beforehand that she would not be capable of giving me +a daughter or a son--of giving the earth a new inhabitant. I remember +how they buried her. It was in the spring. Our parish church was small +and old, the screen was blackened, the walls bare, the brick floor worn +into hollows in parts; there was a big, old-fashioned holy picture in +each half of the choir. They brought in the coffin, placed it in the +middle before the holy gates, covered it with a faded pall, set three +candlesticks about it. The service commenced. A decrepit deacon, with a +little shock of hair behind, belted low down with a green kerchief, was +mournfully mumbling before a reading-desk; a priest, also an old man, +with a kindly, purblind face, in a lilac cassock with yellow flowers on +it, served the mass for himself and the deacon. At all the open windows +the fresh young leaves were stirring and whispering, and the smell of +the grass rose from the churchyard outside; the red flame of the +wax-candles paled in the bright light of the spring day; the sparrows +were twittering all over the church, and every now and then there came +the ringing cry of a swallow flying in under the cupola. In the golden +motes of the sunbeams the brown heads of the few peasants kept rising +and dropping down again as they prayed earnestly for the dead; in a thin +bluish stream the smoke issued from the holes of the censer. I looked at +the dead face of my wife.... My God! even death--death itself--had not +set her free, had not healed her wound: the same sickly, timid, dumb +look, as though, even in her coffin, she were ill at ease.... My heart +was filled with bitterness. A sweet, sweet creature she was, and she did +well for herself to die!' +</p> + +<p> +The speaker's cheeks flushed, and his eyes grew dim. +</p> + +<p> +'When at last,' he began again, 'I emerged from the deep depression +which overwhelmed me after my wife's death, I resolved to devote myself, +as it is called, to work. I went into a government office in the capital +of the province; but in the great apartments of the government +institution my head ached, and my eyesight too began to fail: other +incidental causes came in.... I retired. I had thought of going on a +visit to Moscow, but, in the first place, I hadn't the money, and +secondly... I've told you already: I'm resigned. This resignation came +upon me both suddenly and not suddenly. In spirit I had long ago +resigned myself, but my brain was still unwilling to accept the yoke. I +ascribed my humble temper and ideas to the influence of country life and +happiness!... On the other side, I had long observed that all my +neighbours, young and old alike, who had been frightened at first by my +learning, my residence abroad, and my other advantages of education, had +not only had time to get completely used to me, but had even begun to +treat me half-rudely, half-contemptuously, did not listen to my +observations, and, in talking to me, no longer made use of superfluous +signs of respect. I forgot to tell you, too, that during the first year +after my marriage, I had tried to launch into literature, and even sent +a thing to a journal--a story, if I'm not mistaken; but in a little time +I received a polite letter from the editor, in which, among other +things, I was told that he could not deny I had intelligence, but he was +obliged to say I had no talent, and talent alone was what was needed in +literature. To add to this, it came to my knowledge that a young man, on +a visit from Moscow--a most good-natured youth too--had referred to me +at an evening party at the governor's as a shallow person, antiquated +and behind the times. But my half-wilful blindness still persisted: I +was unwilling to give myself a slap in the face, you know; at last, one +fine morning, my eyes were opened. This was how it happened. The +district captain of police came to see me, with the object of calling my +attention to a tumble-down bridge on my property, which I had absolutely +no money to repair. After consuming a glass of vodka and a snack of +dried fish, this condescending guardian of order reproached me in a +paternal way for my heedlessness, sympathising, however, with my +position, and only advising me to order my peasants to patch up the +bridge with some rubbish; he lighted a pipe, and began talking of the +coming elections. A candidate for the honourable post of marshal of the +province was at that time one Orbassanov, a noisy, shallow fellow, who +took bribes into the bargain. Besides, he was not distinguished either +for wealth or for family. I expressed my opinion with regard to him, and +rather casually too: I regarded Mr. Orbassanov, I must own, as beneath +my level. The police-captain looked at me, patted me amicably on the +shoulder, and said good-naturedly: "Come, come, Vassily Vassilyevitch, +it's not for you and me to criticise men like that--how are we qualified +to? Let the shoemaker stick to his last." "But, upon my word," I +retorted with annoyance, "whatever difference is there between me and +Mr. Orbassanov?" The police-captain took his pipe out of his mouth, +opened his eyes wide, and fairly roared. "Well, you're an amusing chap," +he observed at last, while the tears ran down his cheeks: "what a joke +to make!... Ah! you are a funny fellow!" And till his departure he never +ceased jeering at me, now and then giving me a poke in the ribs with his +elbow, and addressing me by my Christian name. He went away at last. +This was enough: it was the last drop, and my cup was overflowing. I +paced several times up and down the room, stood still before the +looking-glass and gazed a long, long while at my embarrassed +countenance, and deliberately putting out my tongue, I shook my head +with a bitter smile. The scales fell from my eyes: I saw clearly, more +clearly than I saw my face in the glass, what a shallow, insignificant, +worthless, unoriginal person I was!' +</p> + +<p> +He paused. +</p> + +<p> +'In one of Voltaire's tragedies,' he went on wearily, 'there is some +worthy who rejoices that he has reached the furthest limit of +unhappiness. Though there is nothing tragic in my fate, I will admit I +have experienced something of that sort. I have known the bitter +transports of cold despair; I have felt how sweet it is, lying in bed, +to curse deliberately for a whole morning together the hour and day of +my birth. I could not resign myself all at once. And indeed, think of it +yourself: I was kept by impecuniosity in the country, which I hated; I +was not fitted for managing my land, nor for the public service, nor for +literature, nor anything; my neighbours I didn't care for, and books I +loathed; as for the mawkish and morbidly sentimental young ladies who +shake their curls and feverishly harp on the word "life," I had ceased +to have any attraction for them ever since I gave up ranting and +gushing; complete solitude I could not face.... I began--what do you +suppose?--I began hanging about, visiting my neighbours. As though drunk +with self-contempt, I purposely exposed myself to all sorts of petty +slights. I was missed over in serving at table; I was met with +supercilious coldness, and at last was not noticed at all; I was not +even allowed to take part in general conversation, and from my corner I +myself used purposely to back up some stupid talker who in those days at +Moscow would have ecstatically licked the dust off my feet, and kissed +the hem of my cloak.... I did not even allow myself to believe that I +was enjoying the bitter satisfaction of irony.... What sort of irony, +indeed, can a man enjoy in solitude? Well, so I have behaved for some +years on end, and so I behave now.' +</p> + +<p> +'Really, this is beyond everything,' grumbled the sleepy voice of Mr. +Kantagryuhin from the next room: 'what fool is it that has taken a fancy +to talk all night?' +</p> + +<p> +The speaker promptly ducked under the clothes and peeping out timidly, +held up his finger to me warningly, +</p> + +<p> +'Sh--sh--!' he whispered; and, as it were, bowing apologetically in the +direction of Kantagryuhin's voice, he said respectfully: 'I obey, sir, I +obey; I beg your pardon.... It's permissible for him to sleep; he ought +to sleep,' he went on again in a whisper: 'he must recruit his +energies--well, if only to eat his dinner with the same relish +to-morrow. We have no right to disturb him. Besides, I think I've told +you all I wanted to; probably you're sleepy too. I wish you good-night.' +</p> + +<p> +He turned away with feverish rapidity and buried his head in the pillow. +</p> + +<p> +'Let me at least know,' I asked, 'with whom I have had the pleasure....' +</p> + +<p> +He raised his head quickly. +</p> + +<p> +'No, for mercy's sake!' he cut me short, 'don't inquire my name either +of me or of others. Let me remain to you an unknown being, crushed by +fate, Vassily Vassilyevitch. Besides, as an unoriginal person, I don't +deserve an individual name.... But if you really want to give me some +title, call me... call me the Hamlet of the Shtchigri district. There +are many such Hamlets in every district, but perhaps you haven't come +across others.... After which, good-bye.' +</p> + +<p> +He buried himself again in his feather-bed, and the next morning, when +they came to wake me, he was no longer in the room. He had left before +daylight. +</p> + +<p><br /><br /><br /></p> + +<h3> +<a id="chap21"></a> +XXI +</h3> + +<h3> +TCHERTOP-HANOV AND NEDOPYUSKIN +</h3> + +<p> +One hot summer day I was coming home from hunting in a light cart; +Yermolaï sat beside me dozing and scratching his nose. The sleeping dogs +were jolted up and down like lifeless bodies under our feet. The +coachman kept flicking gadflies off the horses with his whip. The white +dust rose in a light cloud behind the cart. We drove in between bushes. +The road here was full of ruts, and the wheels began catching in the +twigs. Yermolaï started up and looked round.... 'Hullo!' he said; 'there +ought to be grouse here. Let's get out.' We stopped and went into the +thicket. My dog hit upon a covey. I took a shot and was beginning to +reload, when suddenly there was a loud crackling behind me, and a man on +horseback came towards me, pushing the bushes apart with his hands. +'Sir... pe-ermit me to ask,' he began in a haughty voice, 'by what right +you are--er--shooting here, sir?' The stranger spoke extraordinarily +quickly, jerkily and condescendingly. I looked at his face; never in my +life have I seen anything like it. Picture to yourselves, gentle +readers, a little flaxen-haired man, with a little turn-up red nose and +long red moustaches. A pointed Persian cap with a crimson cloth crown +covered his forehead right down to his eyebrows. He was dressed in a +shabby yellow Caucasian overcoat, with black velveteen cartridge pockets +on the breast, and tarnish silver braid on all the seams; over his +shoulder was slung a horn; in his sash was sticking a dagger. A +raw-boned, hook-nosed chestnut horse shambled unsteadily under his +weight; two lean, crook-pawed greyhounds kept turning round just under +the horse's legs. The face, the glance, the voice, every action, the +whole being of the stranger, was expressive of a wild daring and an +unbounded, incredible pride; his pale-blue glassy eyes strayed about +with a sideway squint like a drunkard's; he flung back his head, puffed +out his cheeks, snorted and quivered all over, as though bursting with +dignity--for all the world like a turkey-cock. He repeated his question. +</p> + +<p> +'I didn't know it was forbidden to shoot here,' I replied. +</p> + +<p> +'You are here, sir,' he continued, 'on my land.' +</p> + +<p> +'With your permission, I will go off it.' +</p> + +<p> +'But pe-ermit me to ask,' he rejoined, 'is it a nobleman I have the +honour of addressing?' +</p> + +<p> +I mentioned my name. +</p> + +<p> +'In that case, oblige me by hunting here. I am a nobleman myself, and am +very pleased to do any service to a nobleman.... And my name is Panteley +Tchertop-hanov.' He bowed, hallooed, gave his horse a lash on the neck; +the horse shook its head, reared, shied, and trampled on a dog's paws. +The dog gave a piercing squeal. Tchertop-hanov boiled over with rage; +foaming at the mouth, he struck the horse with his fist on the head +between the ears, leaped to the ground quicker than lightning, looked at +the dog's paw, spat on the wound, gave it a kick in the ribs to stop its +whining, caught on to the horse's forelock, and put his foot in the +stirrup. The horse flung up its head, and with its tail in the air edged +away into the bushes; he followed it, hopping on one leg; he got into +the saddle at last, however, flourished his whip in a sort of frenzy, +blew his horn, and galloped off. I had not time to recover from the +unexpected appearance of Tchertop-hanov, when suddenly, almost without +any noise, there came out of the bushes a stoutish man of forty on a +little black nag. He stopped, took off his green leather cap, and in a +thin, subdued voice he asked me whether I hadn't seen a horseman riding +a chestnut? I answered that I had. +</p> + +<p> +'Which way did the gentleman go?' he went on in the same tone, without +putting on his cap. +</p> + +<p> +'Over there.' +</p> + +<p> +'I humbly thank you, sir.' +</p> + +<p> +He made a kissing sound with his lips, swung his legs against his +horse's sides, and fell into a jog-trot in the direction indicated. I +looked after him till his peaked cap was hidden behind the branches. +This second stranger was not in the least like his predecessor in +exterior. His face, plump and round as a ball, expressed bashfulness, +good-nature, and humble meekness; his nose, also plump and round and +streaked with blue veins, betokened a sensualist. On the front of his +head there was not a single hair left, some thin brown tufts stuck out +behind; there was an ingratiating twinkle in his little eyes, set in +long slits, and a sweet smile on his red, juicy lips. He had on a coat +with a stand-up collar and brass buttons, very worn but clean; his cloth +trousers were hitched up high, his fat calves were visible above the +yellow tops of his boots. +</p> + +<p> +'Who's that?' I inquired of Yermolaï. +</p> + +<p> +'That? Nedopyuskin, Tihon Ivanitch. He lives at Tchertop-hanov's.' +</p> + +<p> +'What is he, a poor man?' +</p> + +<p> +'He's not rich; but, to be sure, Tchertop-hanov's not got a brass +farthing either.' +</p> + +<p> +'Then why does he live with him?' +</p> + +<p> +'Oh, they made friends. One's never seen without the other.... It's a +fact, indeed--where the horse puts its hoof, there the crab sticks its +claw.' +</p> + +<p> +We got out of the bushes; suddenly two hounds 'gave tongue' close to us, +and a big hare bounded through the oats, which were fairly high by now. +The dogs, hounds and harriers, leaped out of the thicket after him, and +after the dogs flew out Tchertop-hanov himself. He did not shout, nor +urge the dogs on, nor halloo; he was breathless and gasping; broken, +senseless sounds were jerked out of his gaping mouth now and then; he +dashed on, his eyes starting out of his head, and furiously lashed at +his luckless horse with the whip. The harriers were gaining on the +hare... it squatted for a moment, doubled sharply back, and darted past +Yermolaï into the bushes.... The harriers rushed in pursuit. 'Lo-ok out! +lo-ok out!' the exhausted horseman articulated with effort, in a sort of +stutter: 'lo-ok out, friend!' Yermolaï shot... the wounded hare rolled +head over heels on the smooth dry grass, leaped into the air, and +squealed piteously in the teeth of a worrying dog. The hounds crowded +about her. Like an arrow, Tchertop-hanov flew off his horse, clutched +his dagger, ran straddling among the dogs with furious imprecations, +snatched the mangled hare from them, and, creasing up his whole face, he +buried the dagger in its throat up to the very hilt... buried it, and +began hallooing. Tihon Ivanitch made his appearance on the edge of the +thicket 'Ho-ho-ho-ho-ho-ho-ho-ho!' vociferated Tchertop-hanov a second +time. 'Ho-ho-ho-ho,' his companion repeated placidly. +</p> + +<p> +'But really, you know, one ought not to hunt in summer, 'I observed to +Tchertop-hanov, pointing to the trampled-down oats. +</p> + +<p> +'It's my field,' answered Tchertop-hanov, gasping. +</p> + +<p> +He pulled the hare into shape, hung it on to his saddle, and flung the +paws among the dogs. +</p> + +<p> +'I owe you a charge, my friend, by the rules of hunting,' he said, +addressing Yermolaï. 'And you, dear sir,' he added in the same jerky, +abrupt voice, 'my thanks.' +</p> + +<p> +He mounted his horse. +</p> + +<p> +'Pe-ermit me to ask... I've forgotten your name and your father's.' +</p> + +<p> +Again I told him my name. +</p> + +<p> +'Delighted to make your acquaintance. When you have an opportunity, hope +you'll come and see me.... But where is that Fomka, Tihon Ivanitch?' he +went on with heat; 'the hare was run down without him.' +</p> + +<p> +'His horse fell down under him,' replied Tihon Ivanitch with a smile. +</p> + +<p> +'Fell down! Orbassan fell down? Pugh! tut!... Where is he?' +</p> + +<p> +'Over there, behind the copse.' +</p> + +<p> +Tchertop-hanov struck his horse on the muzzle with his whip, and +galloped off at a breakneck pace. Tihon Ivanitch bowed to me twice, once +for himself and once for his companion, and again set off at a trot into +the bushes. +</p> + +<p> +These two gentlemen aroused my curiosity keenly. What could unite two +creatures so different in the bonds of an inseparable friendship? I +began to make inquiries. This was what I learned. +</p> + +<p> +Panteley Eremyitch Tchertop-hanov had the reputation in the whole +surrounding vicinity of a dangerous, crack-brained fellow, haughty and +quarrelsome in the extreme. He had served a very short time in the army, +and had retired from the service through 'difficulties' with his +superiors, with that rank which is generally regarded as equivalent to +no rank at all. He came of an old family, once rich; his forefathers +lived sumptuously, after the manner of the steppes--that is, they +welcomed all, invited or uninvited, fed them to exhaustion, gave out +oats by the quarter to their guests' coachmen for their teams, kept +musicians, singers, jesters, and dogs; on festive days regaled their +people with spirits and beer, drove to Moscow in the winter with their +own horses, in heavy old coaches, and sometimes were for whole months +without a farthing, living on home-grown produce. The estate came into +Panteley Eremyitch's father's hands in a crippled condition; he, in his +turn, 'played ducks and drakes' with it, and when he died, left his sole +heir, Panteley, the small mortgaged village of Bezsonovo, with +thirty-five souls of the male, and seventy-six of the female sex, and +twenty-eight acres and a half of useless land on the waste of +Kolobrodova, no record of serfs for which could be found among the +deceased's deeds. The deceased had, it must be confessed, ruined himself +in a very strange way: 'provident management' had been his destruction. +According to his notions, a nobleman ought not to depend on merchants, +townsmen, and 'brigands' of that sort, as he called them; he set up all +possible trades and crafts on his estate; 'it's both seemlier and +cheaper,' he used to say: 'it's provident management'! He never +relinquished this fatal idea to the end of his days; indeed, it was his +ruin. But, then, what entertainment it gave him! He never denied himself +the satisfaction of a single whim. Among other freaks, he once began +building, after his own fancy, so immense a family coach that, in spite +of the united efforts of the peasants' horses, drawn together from the +whole village, as well as their owners, it came to grief and fell to +pieces on the first hillside. Eremey Lukitch (the name of Panteley's +father was Eremey Lukitch), ordered a memorial to be put up on the +hillside, but was not, however, at all abashed over the affair. He +conceived the happy thought, too, of building a church--by himself, of +course--without the assistance of an architect. He burnt a whole forest +in making the bricks, laid an immense foundation, as though for a +provincial hall, raised the walls, and began putting on the cupola; the +cupola fell down. He tried again--the cupola again broke down; he tried +the third time---the cupola fell to pieces a third time. Good Eremey +Lukitch grew thoughtful; there was something uncanny about it, he +reflected... some accursed witchcraft must have a hand in it... and at +once he gave orders to flog all the old women in the village. They +flogged the old women; but they didn't get the cupola on, for all that. +He began reconstructing the peasants' huts on a new plan, and all on a +system of 'provident management'; he set them three homesteads together +in a triangle, and in the middle stuck up a post with a painted +bird-cage and flag. Every day he invented some new freak; at one time he +was making soup of burdocks, at another cutting his horses' tails off to +make caps for his servants; at another, proposing to substitute nettles +for flax, to feed pigs on mushrooms.... He had once read in the +<i>Moscow Gazette</i> an article by a Harkov landowner, Hryak-Hrupyorsky, +on the importance of morality to the well-being of the peasant, and the +next day he gave forth a decree to all his peasants to learn off the +Harkov landowner's article by heart at once. The peasants learnt the +article; the master asked them whether they understood what was said +in it? The bailiff replied--that to be sure they understood it! About the +same time he ordered all his subjects, with a view to the maintenance +of order and provident management, to be numbered, and each to have his +number sewn on his collar. On meeting the master, each was to shout, +'Number so-and-so is here!' and the master would answer affably: +'Go on, in God's name!' +</p> + +<p> +In spite, however, of order and provident management, Eremey Lukitch got +by degrees into a very difficult position; he began at first by +mortgaging his villages, and then was brought to the sale of them; the +last ancestral home, the village with the unfinished church, was sold at +last for arrears to the Crown, luckily not in the lifetime of Eremey +Lukitch--he could never have supported such a blow--but a fortnight +after his death. He succeeded in dying at home in his own bed, +surrounded by his own people, and under the care of his own doctor; but +nothing was left to poor Panteley but Bezsonovo. +</p> + +<p> +Panteley heard of his father's illness while he was still in the +service, in the very heat of the 'difficulties' mentioned above. He was +only just nineteen. From his earliest childhood he had not left his +father's house, and under the guidance of his mother, a very +good-natured but perfectly stupid woman, Vassilissa Vassilyevna, he grew +up spoilt and conceited. She undertook his education alone; Eremey +Lukitch, buried in his economical fancies, had no thoughts to spare for +it. It is true, he once punished his son with his own hand for +mispronouncing a letter of the alphabet; but Eremey Lukitch had received +a cruel and secret blow that day: his best dog had been crushed by a +tree. Vassilissa Vassilyevna's efforts in regard Panteley's education +did not, however, get beyond one terrific exertion; in the sweat of her +brow she engaged him a tutor, one Birkopf, a retired Alsatian soldier, +and to the day of her death she trembled like a leaf before him. 'Oh,' +she thought, 'if he throws us up--I'm lost! Where could I turn? Where +could I find another teacher? Why, with what pains, what pains I enticed +this one away from our neighbours!' And Birkopf, like a shrewd man, +promptly took advantage of his unique position; he drank like a fish, +and slept from morning till night. On the completion of his 'course of +science,' Panteley entered the army. Vassilissa Vassilyevna was no more; +she had died six months before that important event, of fright. She had +had a dream of a white figure riding on a bear. Eremey Lukitch soon +followed his better half. +</p> + +<p> +At the first news of his illness, Panteley galloped home at breakneck +speed, but he did not find his father alive. What was the amazement of +the dutiful son when he found himself, utterly unexpectedly, transformed +from a rich heir to a poor man! Few men are capable of bearing so sharp +a reverse well. Panteley was embittered, made misanthropical by it. From +an honest, generous, good-natured fellow, though spoilt and +hot-tempered, he became haughty and quarrelsome; he gave up associating +with the neighbours--he was too proud to visit the rich, and he +disdained the poor--and behaved with unheard of arrogance to everyone, +even to the established authorities. 'I am of the ancient hereditary +nobility,' he would say. Once he had been on the point of shooting the +police-commissioner for coming into the room with his cap on his head. +Of course the authorities, on their side, had their revenge, and took +every opportunity to make him feel their power; but still, they were +rather afraid of him, because he had a desperate temper, and would +propose a duel with knives at the second word. At the slightest retort +Tchertop-hanov's eyes blazed, his voice broke.... Ah, er--er--er,' he +stammered, 'damn my soul!'... and nothing could stop him. And, +moreover, he was a man of stainless character, who had never had a hand +in anything the least shady. No one, of course, visited him... and with +all this he was a good-hearted, even a great-hearted man in his own way; +acts of injustice, of oppression, he would not brook even against +strangers; he stood up for his own peasants like a rock. 'What?' he +would say, with a violent blow on his own head: 'touch my people, mine? +My name's not Tchertop-hanov, if I...' +</p> + +<p> +Tihon Ivanitch Nedopyuskin could not, like Panteley Eremyitch, pride +himself on his origin. His father came of the peasant proprietor class, +and only after forty years of service attained the rank of a noble. Mr. +Nedopyuskin, the father, belonged to the number of those people who are +pursued by misfortune with an obduracy akin to personal hatred. For +sixty whole years, from his very birth to his very death, the poor man +was struggling with all the hardships, calamities, and privations, +incidental to people of small means; he struggled like a fish under the +ice, never having enough food and sleep--cringing, worrying, wearing +himself to exhaustion, fretting over every farthing, with genuine +'innocence' suffering in the service, and dying at last in either a +garret or a cellar, in the unsuccessful struggle to gain for himself or +his children a crust of dry bread. Fate had hunted him down like a hare. +</p> + +<p> +He was a good-natured and honest man, though he did take bribes--from a +threepenny bit up to a crown piece inclusive. Nedopyuskin had a wife, +thin and consumptive; he had children too; luckily they all died young +except Tihon and a daughter, Mitrodora, nicknamed 'the merchants' +belle,' who, after many painful and ludicrous adventures, was married to +a retired attorney. Mr. Nedopyuskin had succeeded before his death in +getting Tihon a place as supernumerary clerk in some office; but +directly after his father's death Tihon resigned his situation. Their +perpetual anxieties, their heartrending struggle with cold and hunger, +his mother's careworn depression, his father's toiling despair, the +coarse aggressiveness of landladies and shopkeepers--all the unending +daily suffering of their life had developed an exaggerated timidity in +Tihon: at the mere sight of his chief he was faint and trembling like a +captured bird. He threw up his office. Nature, in her indifference, or +perhaps her irony, implants in people all sorts of faculties and +tendencies utterly inconsistent with their means and their position in +society; with her characteristic care and love she had moulded of Tihon, +the son of a poor clerk, a sensuous, indolent, soft, impressionable +creature--a creature fitted exclusively for enjoyment, gifted with an +excessively delicate sense of smell and of taste...she had moulded him, +finished him off most carefully, and set her creation to struggle up on +sour cabbage and putrid fish! And, behold! the creation did struggle up +somehow, and began what is called 'life.' Then the fun began. Fate, +which had so ruthlessly tormented Nedopyuskin the father, took to the +son too; she had a taste for them, one must suppose. But she treated +Tihon on a different plan: she did not torture him; she played with him. +She did not once drive him to desperation, she did not set him to suffer +the degrading agonies of hunger, but she led him a dance through the +whole of Russia from one end to the other, from one degrading and +ludicrous position to another; at one time Fate made him 'majordomo' to +a snappish, choleric Lady Bountiful, at another a humble parasite on a +wealthy skinflint merchant, then a private secretary to a goggle-eyed +gentleman, with his hair cut in the English style, then she promoted him +to the post of something between butler and buffoon to a dog-fancier.... +In short, Fate drove poor Tihon to drink drop by drop to the dregs the +bitter poisoned cup of a dependent existence. He had been, in his time, +the sport of the dull malignity and the boorish pranks of slothful +masters. How often, alone in his room, released at last 'to go in +peace,' after a mob of visitors had glutted their taste for horseplay at +his expense, he had vowed, blushing with shame, chill tears of despair +in his eyes, that he would run away in secret, would try his luck in the +town, would find himself some little place as clerk, or die once for all +of hunger in the street! But, in the first place, God had not given him +strength of character; secondly, his timidity unhinged him; and thirdly, +how could he get himself a place? whom could he ask? 'They'll never give +it me,' the luckless wretch would murmur, tossing wearily in his bed, +'they'll never give it me!' And the next day he would take up the same +degrading life again. His position was the more painful that, with all +her care, nature had not troubled to give him the smallest share of the +gifts and qualifications without which the trade of a buffoon is almost +impossible. He was not equal, for instance, to dancing till he dropped, +in a bearskin coat turned inside out, nor making jokes and cutting +capers in the immediate vicinity of cracking whips; if he was turned out +in a state of nature into a temperature of twenty degrees below +freezing, as often as not, he caught cold; his stomach could not digest +brandy mixed with ink and other filth, nor minced funguses and +toadstools in vinegar. There is no knowing what would have become of +Tihon if the last of his patrons, a contractor who had made his fortune, +had not taken it into his head in a merry hour to inscribe in his will: +'And to Zyozo (Tihon, to wit) Nedopyuskin, I leave in perpetual +possession, to him and his heirs, the village of Bezselendyevka, +lawfully acquired by me, with all its appurtenances.' A few days later +this patron was taken with a fit of apoplexy after gorging on sturgeon +soup. A great commotion followed; the officials came and put seals on +the property. +</p> + +<p> +The relations arrived; the will was opened and read; and they called for +Nedopyuskin: Nedopyuskin made his appearance. The greater number of the +party knew the nature of Tihon Ivanitch's duties in his patron's +household; he was greeted with deafening shouts and ironical +congratulations. 'The landowner; here is the new owner!' shouted the +other heirs. 'Well, really this,' put in one, a noted wit and humourist; +'well, really this, one may say... this positively is... really what +one may call... an heir-apparent!' and they all went off into shrieks. +For a long while Nedopyuskin could not believe in his good fortune. They +showed him the will: he flushed, shut his eyes, and with a despairing +gesture he burst into tears. The chuckles of the party passed into a +deep unanimous roar. The village of Bezselendyevka consisted of only +twenty-two serfs, no one regretted its loss keenly; so why not get some +fun out of it? One of the heirs from Petersburg, an important man, with +a Greek nose and a majestic expression of face, Rostislav Adamitch +Shtoppel, went so far as to go up to Nedopyuskin and look haughtily at +him over his shoulder. 'So far as I can gather, honoured sir,' he +observed with contemptuous carelessness, 'you enjoyed your position in +the household of our respected Fedor Fedoritch, owing to your obliging +readiness to wait on his diversions?' The gentleman from Petersburg +expressed himself in a style insufferably refined, smart, and correct. +Nedopyuskin, in his agitation and confusion, had not taken in the +unknown gentleman's words, but the others were all quiet at once; the +wit smiled condescendingly. Mr. Shtoppel rubbed his hands and repeated +his question. Nedopyuskin raised his eyes in bewilderment and opened his +mouth. Rostislav Adamitch puckered his face up sarcastically. +</p> + +<p> +'I congratulate you, my dear sir, I congratulate you,' he went on: 'it's +true, one may say, not everyone would have consented to gain his daily +bread in such a fashion; but <i>de guslibus non est disputandum</i>, +that is, everyone to his taste.... Eh?' +</p> + +<p> +Someone at the back uttered a rapid, decorous shriek of admiration and +delight. +</p> + +<p> +'Tell us,' pursued Mr. Shtoppel, much encouraged by the smiles of the +whole party, 'to what special talent are you indebted for your +good-fortune? No, don't be bashful, tell us; we're all here, so to +speak, <i>en famille</i>. Aren't we, gentlemen, all here <i>en famille</i>?' +</p> + +<p> +The relation to whom Rostislav Adamitch chanced to turn with this +question did not, unfortunately, know French, and so he confined himself +to a faint grunt of approbation. But another relation, a young man, with +patches of a yellow colour on his forehead, hastened to chime in, 'Wee, +wee, to be sure.' +</p> + +<p> +'Perhaps,' Mr. Shtoppel began again, 'you can walk on your hands, your +legs raised, so to say, in the air?' +</p> + +<p> +Nedopyuskin looked round in agony: every face wore a taunting smile, +every eye was moist with delight. +</p> + +<p> +'Or perhaps you can crow like a cock?' +</p> + +<p> +A loud guffaw broke out on all sides, and was hushed at once, stifled by +expectation. +</p> + +<p> +'Or perhaps on your nose you can....' +</p> + +<p> +'Stop that!' a loud harsh voice suddenly interrupted Rostislav Adamitch; +'I wonder you're not ashamed to torment the poor man!' +</p> + +<p> +Everyone looked round. In the doorway stood Tchertop-hanov. As a cousin +four times removed of the deceased contractor, he too had received a +note of invitation to the meeting of the relations. During the whole +time of reading the will he had kept, as he always did, haughtily apart +from the others. +</p> + +<p> +'Stop that!' he repeated, throwing his head back proudly. +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Shtoppel turned round quickly, and seeing a poorly dressed, +unattractive-looking man, he inquired of his neighbour in an undertone +(caution's always a good thing): +</p> + +<p> +'Who's that?' +</p> + +<p> +'Tchertop-hanov--he's no great shakes,' the latter whispered in his ear. +</p> + +<p> +Rostislav Adamitch assumed a haughty air. +</p> + +<p> +'And who are you to give orders?' he said through his nose, drooping his +eyelids scornfully; 'who may you be, allow me to inquire?--a queer fish, +upon my word!' +</p> + +<p> +Tchertop-hanov exploded like gunpowder at a spark. He was choked with +fury. +</p> + +<p> +'Ss--ss--ss!' he hissed like one possessed, and all at once he +thundered: 'Who am I? Who am I? I'm Panteley Tchertop-hanov, of the +ancient hereditary nobility; my forefathers served the Tsar: and who may +you be?' +</p> + +<p> +Rostislav Adamitch turned pale and stepped back. He had not expected +such resistance. +</p> + +<p> +'I--I--a fish indeed!' +</p> + +<p> +Tchertop-hanov darted forward; Shtoppel bounded away in great +perturbation, the others rushed to meet the exasperated nobleman. +</p> + +<p> +'A duel, a duel, a duel, at once, across a handkerchief!' shouted the +enraged Panteley, 'or beg my pardon--yes, and his too....' +</p> + +<p> +'Pray beg his pardon!' the agitated relations muttered all round +Shtoppel; 'he's such a madman, he'd cut your throat in a minute!' +</p> + +<p> +'I beg your pardon, I beg your pardon, I didn't know,' stammered +Shtoppel; 'I didn't know....' +</p> + +<p> +'And beg his too!' vociferated the implacable Panteley. +</p> + +<p> +'I beg your pardon too,' added Rostislav Adamitch, addressing +Nedopyuskin, who was shaking as if he were in an ague. +</p> + +<p> +Tchertop-hanov calmed down; he went up to Tihon Ivanitch, took him by +the hand, looked fiercely round, and, as not one pair of eyes ventured +to meet his, he walked triumphantly amid profound silence out of the +room, with the new owner of the lawfully acquired village of +Bezselendyevka. +</p> + +<p> +From that day they never parted again. (The village of Bezselendyevka +was only seven miles from Bezsonovo.) The boundless gratitude of +Nedopyuskin soon passed into the most adoring veneration. The weak, +soft, and not perfectly stainless Tihon bowed down in the dust before +the fearless and irreproachable Panteley. 'It's no slight thing,' he +thought to himself sometimes, 'to talk to the governor, look him +straight in the face.... Christ have mercy on us, doesn't he look at +him!' +</p> + +<p> +He marvelled at him, he exhausted all the force of his soul in his +admiration of him, he regarded him as an extraordinary man, as clever, +as learned. And there's no denying that, bad as Tchertop-hanov's +education might be, still, in comparison with Tihon's education, it +might pass for brilliant. Tchertop-hanov, it is true, had read little +Russian, and knew French very badly--so badly that once, in reply to the +question of a Swiss tutor: '<i>Vous parlez français, monsieur?</i>' he +answered: '<i>Je ne comprehend</i>' and after a moment's thought, he +added <i>pa</i>; but any way he was aware that Voltaire had once +existed, and was a very witty writer, and that Frederick the Great, king +of Prussia, had been distinguished as a great military commander. Of +Russian writers he respected Derzhavin, but liked Marlinsky, and called +Ammalat-Bek the best of the pack.... +</p> + +<p> +A few days after my first meeting with the two friends, I set off for +the village of Bezsonovo to see Panteley Eremyitch. His little house +could be seen a long way off; it stood out on a bare place, half a mile +from the village, on the 'bluff,' as it is called, like a hawk on a +ploughed field. Tchertop-hanov's homestead consisted of nothing more +than four old tumble-down buildings of different sizes--that is, a +lodge, a stable, a barn, and a bath-house. Each building stood apart by +itself; there was neither a fence round nor a gate to be seen. My +coachman stopped in perplexity at a well which was choked up and had +almost disappeared. Near the barn some thin and unkempt puppies were +mangling a dead horse, probably Orbassan; one of them lifted up the +bleeding nose, barked hurriedly, and again fell to devouring the bare +ribs. Near the horse stood a boy of seventeen, with a puffy, yellow +face, dressed like a Cossack, and barelegged; he looked with a +responsible air at the dogs committed to his charge, and now and then +gave the greediest a lash with his whip. +</p> + +<p> +'Is your master at home?' I inquired. +</p> + +<p> +'The Lord knows!' answered the lad; 'you'd better knock.' +</p> + +<p> +I jumped out of the droshky, and went up to the steps of the lodge. +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Tchertop-hanov's dwelling presented a very cheerless aspect; the +beams were blackened and bulging forward, the chimney had fallen off, +the corners of the house were stained with damp, and sunk out of the +perpendicular, the small, dusty, bluish windows peeped out from under +the shaggy overhanging roof with an indescribably morose expression: +some old vagrants have eyes that look like that. I knocked; no one +responded. I could hear, however, through the door some sharply uttered +words: +</p> + +<p> +'A, B, C; there now, idiot!' a hoarse voice was saying: 'A, B, C, D... +no! D, E, E, E!... Now then, idiot!' +</p> + +<p> +I knocked a second time. +</p> + +<p> +The same voice shouted: 'Come in; who's there?'... +</p> + +<p> +I went into the small empty hall, and through the open door I saw +Tchertop-hanov himself. In a greasy oriental dressing-gown, loose +trousers, and a red skull-cap, he was sitting on a chair; in one hand he +gripped the face of a young poodle, while in the other he was holding a +piece of bread just above his nose. +</p> + +<p> +'Ah!' he pronounced with dignity, not stirring from his seat: 'delighted +to see you. Please sit down. I am busy here with Venzor.... Tihon +Ivanitch,' he added, raising his voice, 'come here, will you? Here's a +visitor.' +</p> + +<p> +'I'm coming, I'm coming,' Tihon Ivanitch responded from the other room. +'Masha, give me my cravat.' +</p> + +<p> +Tchertop-hanov turned to Venzor again and laid the piece of bread on his +nose. I looked round. Except an extending table much warped with +thirteen legs of unequal length, and four rush chairs worn into hollows, +there was no furniture of any kind in the room; the walls, which had +been washed white, ages ago, with blue, star-shaped spots, were peeling +off in many places; between the windows hung a broken tarnished +looking-glass in a huge frame of red wood. In the corners stood +pipestands and guns; from the ceiling hung fat black cobwebs. +</p> + +<p> +'A, B, C, D,' Tchertop-hanov repeated slowly, and suddenly he cried +furiously: '<i>E! E! E! E!</i>... What a stupid brute!...' +</p> + +<p> +But the luckless poodle only shivered, and could not make up his mind to +open his mouth; he still sat wagging his tail uneasily and wrinkling up +his face, blinked dejectedly, and frowned as though saying to himself: +'Of course, it's just as you please!' +</p> + +<p> +'There, eat! come! take it!' repeated the indefatigable master. +</p> + +<p> +'You've frightened him,' I remarked. +</p> + +<p> +'Well, he can get along, then!' +</p> + +<p> +He gave him a kick. The poor dog got up softly, dropped the bread off +his nose, and walked, as it were, on tiptoe to the hall, deeply wounded. +And with good reason: a stranger calling for the first time, and to +treat him like that! +</p> + +<p> +The door from the next room gave a subdued creak, and Mr. Nedopyuskin +came in, affably bowing and smiling. +</p> + +<p> +I got up and bowed. +</p> + +<p> +'Don't disturb yourself, don't disturb yourself,' he lisped. +</p> + +<p> +We sat down. Tchertop-hanov went into the next room. +</p> + +<p> +'You have been for some time in our neighbourhood,' began Nedopyuskin in +a subdued voice, coughing discreetly into his hand, and holding his +fingers before his lips from a feeling of propriety. +</p> + +<p> +'I came last month.' +</p> + +<p> +'Indeed.' +</p> + +<p> +We were silent for a little. +</p> + +<p> +'Lovely weather we are having just now,' resumed Nedopyuskin, and he +looked gratefully at me as though I were in some way responsible for the +weather: 'the corn, one may say, is doing wonderfully.' +</p> + +<p> +I nodded in token of assent. We were silent again. +</p> + +<p> +'Panteley Eremyitch was pleased to hunt two hares yesterday,' +Nedopyuskin began again with an effort, obviously wishing to enliven the +conversation; 'yes, indeed, very big hares they were, sir.' +</p> + +<p> +'Has Mr. Tchertop-hanov good hounds?' +</p> + +<p> +'The most wonderful hounds, sir!' Nedopyuskin replied, delighted; 'one +may say, the best in the province, indeed.' (He drew nearer to me.) +'But, then, Panteley Eremyitch is such a wonderful man! He has only to +wish for anything--he has only to take an idea into his head--and before +you can look round, it's done; everything, you may say, goes like +clockwork. Panteley Eremyitch, I assure you....' +</p> + +<p> +Tchertop-hanov came into the room. Nedopyuskin smiled, ceased speaking, +and indicated him to me with a glance which seemed to say, 'There, you +will see for yourself.' We fell to talking about hunting. +</p> + +<p> +'Would you like me to show you my leash?' Tchertop-hanov asked me; and, +not waiting for a reply, he called Karp. +</p> + +<p> +A sturdy lad came in, in a green nankin long coat, with a blue collar +and livery buttons. +</p> + +<p> +'Tell Fomka,' said Tchertop-hanov abruptly, 'to bring in Ammalat and +Saiga, and in good order, do you understand?' +</p> + +<p> +Karp gave a broad grin, uttered an indefinite sound, and went away. +Fomka made his appearance, well combed and tightly buttoned up, in +boots, and with the hounds. From politeness, I admired the stupid beasts +(harriers are all exceedingly stupid). Tchertop-hanov spat right into +Ammalat's nostrils, which did not, however, apparently afford that dog +the slightest satisfaction. Nedopyuskin, too, stroked Ammalat from +behind. We began chatting again. By degrees Tchertop-hanov unbent +completely, and no longer stood on his dignity nor snorted defiantly; +the expression of his face changed. He glanced at me and at +Nedopyuskin.... +</p> + +<p> +'Hey!' he cried suddenly; 'why should she sit in there alone? Masha! hi, +Masha! come in here!' +</p> + +<p> +Some one stirred in the next room, but there was no answer. +</p> + +<p> +'Ma-a-sha!' Tchertop-hanov repeated caressingly; 'come in here. It's all +right, don't be afraid.' +</p> + +<p> +The door was softly opened, and I caught sight of a tall and slender +girl of twenty, with a dark gypsy face, golden-brown eyes, and hair +black as pitch; her large white teeth gleamed between full red lips. She +had on a white dress; a blue shawl, pinned close round her throat with a +gold brooch, half hid her slender, beautiful arms, in which one could +see the fineness of her race. She took two steps with the bashful +awkwardness of some wild creature, stood still, and looked down. +</p> + +<p> +'Come, let me introduce,' said Panteley Eremyitch; 'wife she is not, but +she's to be respected as a wife.' +</p> + +<p> +Masha flushed slightly, and smiled in confusion. I made her a low bow. I +thought her very charming. The delicate falcon nose, with distended, +half-transparent nostrils; the bold sweep of her high eyebrows, the +pale, almost sunken cheeks--every feature of her face denoted wilful +passion and reckless devilry. From under the coil of her hair two rows +of little shining hairs ran down her broad neck--a sign of race and +vigour. +</p> + +<p> +She went to the window and sat down. I did not want to increase her +embarrassment, and began talking with Tchertop-hanov. Masha turned her +head slyly, and began peeping from under her eyelids at me stealthily, +shyly, and swiftly. Her glance seemed to flash out like a snake's sting. +Nedopyuskin sat beside her, and whispered something in her ear. She +smiled again. When she smiled, her nose slightly puckered up, and her +upper lip was raised, which gave her face something of the expression of +a cat or a lion.... +</p> + +<p> +'Oh, but you're one of the "hands off!" sort,' I thought, in my turn +stealing a look at her supple frame, her hollow breast, and her quick, +angular movements. +</p> + +<p> +'Masha,' Tchertop-hanov asked, 'don't you think we ought to give our +visitor some entertainment, eh?' +</p> + +<p> +'We've got some jam,' she replied. +</p> + +<p> +'Well, bring the jam here, and some vodka, too, while you're about it. +And, I say, Masha,' he shouted after her, 'bring the guitar in too.' +</p> + +<p> +'What's the guitar for? I'm not going to sing.' +</p> + +<p> +'Why?' +</p> + +<p> +'I don't want to.' +</p> + +<p> +'Oh, nonsense; you'll want to when....' +</p> + +<p> +'What?' asked Masha, rapidly knitting her brows. +</p> + +<p> +'When you're asked,' Tchertop-hanov went on, with some embarrassment. +</p> + +<p> +'Oh!' +</p> + +<p> +She went out, soon came back with jam and vodka, and again sat by the +window. There was still a line to be seen on her forehead; the two +eyebrows rose and drooped like a wasp's antennae.... Have you ever +noticed, reader, what a wicked face the wasp has? 'Well,' I thought, +'I'm in for a storm.' The conversation flagged. Nedopyuskin shut up +completely, and wore a forced smile; Tchertop-hanov panted, turned red, +and opened his eyes wide; I was on the point of taking leave.... +Suddenly Masha got up, flung open the window, thrust out her head, and +shouted lustily to a passing peasant woman, 'Aksinya!' The woman +started, and tried to turn round, but slipped down and flopped heavily +on to a dung-heap. Masha threw herself back and laughed merrily; +Tchertop-hanov laughed too; Nedopyuskin shrieked with delight. We all +revived. The storm had passed off in one flash of lightning... the air +was clear again. +</p> + +<p> +Half-an-hour later, no one would have recognised us; we were chatting +and frolicking like children. Masha was the merriest of all; +Tchertop-hanov simply could not take his eyes off her. Her face grew +paler, her nostrils dilated, her eyes glowed and darkened at the same +time. It was a wild creature at play. Nedopyuskin limped after her on +his short, fat little legs, like a drake after a duck. Even Venzor +crawled out of his hiding-place in the hall, stood a moment in the +doorway, glanced at us, and suddenly fell to jumping up into the air and +barking. Masha flitted into the other room, fetched the guitar, flung +off the shawl from her shoulders, seated herself quickly, and, raising +her head, began singing a gypsy song. Her voice rang out, vibrating like +a glass bell when it is struck; it flamed up and died away.... It filled +the heart with sweetness and pain.... Tchertop-hanov fell to dancing. +Nedopyuskin stamped and swung his legs in tune. Masha was all a-quiver, +like birch-bark in the fire; her delicate fingers flew playfully over +the guitar, her dark-skinned throat slowly heaved under the two rows of +amber. All at once she would cease singing, sink into exhaustion, and +twang the guitar, as it were involuntarily, and Tchertop-hanov stood +still, merely working his shoulders and turning round in one place, +while Nedopyuskin nodded his head like a Chinese figure; then she would +break out into song like a mad thing, drawing herself up and holding up +her head, and Tchertop-hanov again curtsied down to the ground, leaped +up to the ceiling, spun round like a top, crying 'Quicker!...' +</p> + +<p> +'Quicker, quicker, quicker!' Nedopyuskin chimed in, speaking very fast. +</p> + +<p> +It was late in the evening when I left Bezsonovo.... +</p> + +<p><br /><br /><br /></p> + +<h3> +<a id="chap22"></a> +XXII +</h3> + +<h3> +THE END OF TCHERTOP-HANOV +</h3> + +<p class="t3b"> +I +</p> + +<p> +It was two years after my visit that Panteley Eremyitch's troubles +began--his real troubles. Disappointments, disasters, even misfortunes +he had had before that time, but he had paid no attention to them, and +had risen superior to them in former days. The first blow that fell upon +him was the most heartrending for him. Masha left him. +</p> + +<p> +What induced her to forsake his roof, where she seemed to be so +thoroughly at home, it is hard to say. Tchertop-hanov to the end of his +days clung to the conviction that a certain young neighbour, a retired +captain of Uhlans, named Yaff, was at the root of Masha's desertion. He +had taken her fancy, according to Panteley Eremyitch, simply by +constantly curling his moustaches, pomading himself to excess, and +sniggering significantly; but one must suppose that the vagrant gypsy +blood in Masha's veins had more to do with it. However that may have +been, one fine summer evening Masha tied up a few odds and ends in a +small bundle, and walked out of Tchertop-hanov's house. +</p> + +<p> +For three days before this she had sat crouched up in a corner, huddled +against the wall, like a wounded fox, and had not spoken a word to any +one; she had only turned her eyes about, and twitched her eyebrows, and +faintly gnashed her teeth, and moved her arms as though she were +wrapping herself up. This mood had come upon her before, but had never +lasted long: Tchertop-hanov knew that, and so he neither worried himself +nor worried her. But when, on coming in from the kennels, where, in his +huntsman's words, the last two hounds 'had departed,' he met a servant +girl who, in a trembling voice, informed him that Marya Akinfyevna sent +him her greetings, and left word that she wished him every happiness, +but she was not coming back to him any more; Tchertop-hanov, after +reeling round where he stood and uttering a hoarse yell, rushed at once +after the runaway, snatching up his pistol as he went. +</p> + +<p> +He overtook her a mile and a half from his house, near a birch wood, on +the high-road to the district town. The sun was sinking on the horizon, +and everything was suddenly suffused with purple glow--trees, plants, +and earth alike. +</p> + +<p> +'To Yaff! to Yaff!' groaned Tchertop-hanov directly he caught sight of +Masha. 'Going to Yaff!' he repeated, running up to her, and almost +stumbling at every step. +</p> + +<p> +Masha stood still, and turned round facing him. +</p> + +<p> +She stood with her back to the light, and looked all black, as though +she had been carved out of dark wood; only the whites of her eyes stood +out like silvery almonds, but the eyes themselves--the pupils--were +darker than ever. +</p> + +<p> +She flung her bundle aside, and folded her arms. 'You are going to Yaff, +wretched girl!' repeated Tchertop-hanov, and he was on the point of +seizing her by the shoulder, but, meeting her eyes, he was abashed, and +stood uneasily where he was. +</p> + +<p> +'I am not going to Mr. Yaff, Panteley Eremyitch,' replied Masha in soft, +even tones; 'it's only I can't live with you any longer.' +</p> + +<p> +'Can't live with me? Why not? Have I offended you in some way?' +</p> + +<p> +Masha shook her head. 'You've not offended me in any way, Panteley +Eremyitch, only my heart is heavy in your house.... Thanks for the past, +but I can't stay--no!' +</p> + +<p> +Tchertop-hanov was amazed; he positively slapped his thighs, and bounced +up and down in his astonishment. +</p> + +<p> +'How is that? Here she's gone on living with me, and known nothing but +peace and happiness, and all of a sudden--her heart's heavy! and she +flings me over! She goes and puts a kerchief on her head, and is gone. +She received every respect, like any lady.' +</p> + +<p> +'I don't care for that in the least,' Masha interrupted. +</p> + +<p> +'Don't care for it? From a wandering gypsy to turn into a lady, and she +doesn't care for it! How don't you care for it, you low-born slave? Do +you expect me to believe that? There's treachery hidden in +it--treachery!' +</p> + +<p> +He began frowning again. +</p> + +<p> +'There's no treachery in my thoughts, and never has been,' said Masha in +her distinct, resonant voice; 'I've told you already, my heart was +heavy.' +</p> + +<p> +'Masha!' cried Tchertop-hanov, striking himself a blow on the chest with +his fist; 'there, stop it; hush, you have tortured me... now, it's +enough! O my God! think only what Tisha will say; you might have pity on +him, at least!' +</p> + +<p> +'Remember me to Tihon Ivanitch, and tell him...' +</p> + +<p> +Tchertop-hanov wrung his hands. 'No, you are talking nonsense--you are +not going! Your Yaff may wait for you in vain!' +</p> + +<p> +'Mr. Yaff,' Masha was beginning.... +</p> + +<p> +'A fine <i>Mister</i> Yaff!' Tchertop-hanov mimicked her. 'He's an +underhand rascal, a low cur--that's what he is--and a phiz like an +ape's!' +</p> + +<p> +For fully half-an-hour Tchertop-hanov was struggling with Masha. He came +close to her, he fell back, he shook his fists at her, he bowed down +before her, he wept, he scolded. +</p> + +<p> +...'I can't,' repeated Masha; 'I am so sad at heart... devoured by +weariness.' +</p> + +<p> +Little by little her face assumed such an indifferent, almost drowsy +expression, that Tchertop-hanov asked her if they had not drugged her +with laudanum. +</p> + +<p> +'It's weariness,' she said for the tenth time. +</p> + +<p> +'Then what if I kill you?' he cried suddenly, and he pulled the pistol +out of his pocket. +</p> + +<p> +Masha smiled; her face brightened. +</p> + +<p> +'Well, kill me, Panteley Eremyitch; as you will; but go back, I won't.' +</p> + +<p> +'You won't come back?' Tchertop-hanov cocked the pistol. +</p> + +<p> +'I won't go back, my dearie. Never in my life will I go back. My word is +steadfast.' +</p> + +<p> +Tchertop-hanov suddenly thrust the pistol into her hand, and sat down on +the ground. +</p> + +<p> +'Then, you kill me! Without you I don't care to live. I have grown +loathsome to you--and everything's loathsome for me!' +</p> + +<p> +Masha bent down, took up her bundle, laid the pistol on the grass, its +mouth away from Tchertop-hanov, and went up to him. +</p> + +<p> +'Ah, my dearie, why torture yourself? Don't you know what we gypsy girls +are? It's our nature; you must make up your mind to it. When there comes +weariness the divider, and calls the soul away to strange, distant +parts, how is one to stay here? Don't forget your Masha; you won't find +such another sweetheart, and I won't forget you, my dearie; but our life +together's over!' +</p> + +<p> +'I loved you, Masha,' Tchertop-hanov muttered into the fingers in which +he had buried his face.... +</p> + +<p> +'And I loved you, little friend Panteley Eremyitch.' +</p> + +<p> +'I love you, I love you madly, senselessly--and when I think now that +you, in your right senses, without rhyme or reason, are leaving me like +this, and going to wander over the face of the earth--well, it strikes +me that if I weren't a poor penniless devil, you wouldn't be throwing me +over!' +</p> + +<p> +At these words Masha only laughed. +</p> + +<p> +'And he used to say I didn't care for money,' she commented, and she +gave Tchertop-hanov a vigorous thump on the shoulder. +</p> + +<p> +He jumped up on to his feet. +</p> + +<p> +'Come, at least you must let me give you some money--how can you go like +this without a halfpenny? But best of all: kill me! I tell you plainly: +kill me once for all!' +</p> + +<p> +Masha shook her head again. 'Kill you? Why get sent to Siberia, my +dearie?' +</p> + +<p> +Tchertop-hanov shuddered. 'Then it's only from that--from fear of penal +servitude.' +</p> + +<p> +He rolled on the grass again. +</p> + +<p> +Masha stood over him in silence. 'I'm sorry for you, dear,' she said +with a sigh: 'you're a good fellow... but there's no help for it: +good-bye!' +</p> + +<p> +She turned away and took two steps. The night had come on by now, and +dim shadows were closing in on all sides. Tchertop-hanov jumped up +swiftly and seized Masha from behind by her two elbows. +</p> + +<p> +'You are going away like this, serpent, to Yaff!' +</p> + +<p> +'Good-bye!' Masha repeated sharply and significantly; she tore herself +away and walked off. +</p> + +<p> +Tchertop-hanov looked after her, ran to the place where the pistol was +lying, snatched it up, took aim, fired.... But before he touched the +trigger, his arm twitched upwards; the ball whistled over Masha's head. +She looked at him over her shoulder without stopping, and went on, +swinging as she walked, as though in defiance of him. +</p> + +<p> +He hid his face--and fell to running. +</p> + +<p> +But before he had run fifty paces he suddenly stood still as though +turned to stone. A well-known, too well-known voice came floating to +him. Masha was singing. 'It was in the sweet days of youth,' she sang: +every note seemed to linger plaintive and ardent in the evening air. +Tchertop-hanov listened intently. The voice retreated and retreated; at +one moment it died away, at the next it floated across, hardly audible, +but still with the same passionate glow. +</p> + +<p> +'She does it to spite me,' thought Tchertop-hanov; but at once he +moaned, 'oh, no! it's her last farewell to me for ever,'--and he burst +into floods of tears. +</p> + +<p class="t3"> + * * * * *<br /> +</p> + +<p> +The next day he appeared at the lodgings of Mr. Yaff, who, as a true man +of the world, not liking the solitude of the country, resided in the +district town, 'to be nearer the young ladies,' as he expressed it. +Tchertop-hanov did not find Yaff; he had, in the words of his valet, set +off for Moscow the evening before. +</p> + +<p> +'Then it is so!' cried Tchertop-hanov furiously; 'there was an +arrangement between them; she has run away with him... but wait a bit!' +</p> + +<p> +He broke into the young cavalry captain's room in spite of the +resistance of the valet. In the room there was hanging over the sofa a +portrait in oils of the master, in the Uhlan uniform. 'Ah, here you are, +you tailless ape!' thundered Tchertop-hanov; he jumped on to the sofa, +and with a blow of his fist burst a big hole in the taut canvas. +</p> + +<p> +'Tell your worthless master,' he turned to the valet, 'that, in the +absence of his own filthy phiz, the nobleman Tchertop-hanov put a hole +through the painted one; and if he cares for satisfaction from me, he +knows where to find the nobleman Tchertop-hanov! or else I'll find him +out myself! I'll fetch the rascally ape from the bottom of the sea!' +</p> + +<p> +Saying these words, Tchertop-hanov jumped off the sofa and majestically +withdrew. +</p> + +<p> +But the cavalry captain Yaff did not demand satisfaction from +him--indeed, he never met him anywhere--and Tchertop-hanov did not think +of seeking his enemy out, and no scandal followed. Masha herself soon +after this disappeared beyond all trace. Tchertop-hanov took to drink; +however, he 'reformed' later. But then a second blow fell upon him. +</p> + +<p><br /><br /></p> + +<p class="t3b"> +II +</p> + +<p> +This was the death of his bosom friend Tihon Ivanovitch Nedopyuskin. His +health had begun to fail two years before his death: he began to suffer +from asthma, and was constantly dropping asleep, and on waking up could +not at once come to himself; the district doctor maintained that this +was the result of 'something rather like fits.' During the three days +which preceded Masha's departure, those three days when 'her heart was +heavy,' Nedopyuskin had been away at his own place at Bezselendyevka: he +had been laid up with a severe cold. Masha's conduct was consequently +even more unexpected for him; it made almost a deeper impression on him +than on Tchertop-hanov himself. With his natural sweetness and +diffidence, he gave utterance to nothing but the tenderest sympathy with +his friend, and the most painful perplexity... but it crushed and made +havoc of everything in him. 'She has torn the heart out of me,' he would +murmur to himself, as he sat on his favourite checked sofa and twisted +his fingers. Even when Tchertop-hanov had got over it, he, Nedopyuskin, +did not recover, and still felt that 'there was a void within him.' +'Here,' he would say, pointing to the middle of his breast above his +stomach. In that way he lingered on till the winter. When the frosts +came, his asthma got better, but he was visited by, not 'something +rather like a fit' this time, but a real unmistakable fit. He did not +lose his memory at once; he still knew Tchertop-hanov and his friend's +cry of despair, 'How can you desert me, Tisha, without my consent, just +as Masha did?' He even responded with faltering, uncertain tongue, +'O--P--a--ey--E--e--yitch, I will o--bey you.' +</p> + +<p> +This did not, however, prevent him from dying the same day, without +waiting for the district doctor, who (on seeing the hardly cold body) +found nothing left for him to do, but with a melancholy recognition of +the instability of all things mortal, to ask for 'a drop of vodka and a +snack of fish.' As might have been anticipated, Tihon Ivanitch had +bequeathed his property to his revered patron and generous protector, +Panteley Eremyitch Tchertop-hanov; but it was of no great benefit to the +revered patron, as it was shortly after sold by public auction, partly +in order to cover the expense of a sepulchral monument, a statue, which +Tchertop-hanov (and one can see his father's craze coming out in him +here) had thought fit to put up over the ashes of his friend. This +statue, which was to have represented an angel praying, was ordered by +him from Moscow; but the agent recommended to him, conceiving that +connoisseurs in sculpture were not often to be met with in the +provinces, sent him, instead of an angel, a goddess Flora, which had for +many years adorned one of those neglected gardens near Moscow, laid out +in the days of Catherine. He had an excellent reason for doing so, since +this statue, though highly artistic, in the rococo style, with plump +little arms, tossing curls, a wreath of roses round the bare bosom, and +a serpentine figure, was obtained by him, the agent, for nothing. And so +to this day the mythological goddess stands, with one foot elegantly +lifted, above the tomb of Tihon Ivanovitch, and with a genuinely +Pompadour simper, gazes at the calves and sheep, those invariable +visitors of our village graveyards, as they stray about her. +</p> + +<p><br /><br /></p> + +<p class="t3b"> +III +</p> + +<p> +On the loss of his faithful friend, Tchertop-hanov again took to drink, +and this time far more seriously. Everything went utterly to the bad +with him. He had no money left for sport; the last of his meagre fortune +was spent; the last of his few servants ran away. Panteley Eremyitch's +isolation became complete: he had no one to speak a word to even, far +less to open his heart to. His pride alone had suffered no diminution. +On the contrary, the worse his surroundings became, the more haughty and +lofty and inaccessible he was himself. He became a complete misanthrope +in the end. One distraction, one delight, was left him: a superb grey +horse, of the Don breed, named by him Malek-Adel, a really wonderful +animal. +</p> + +<p> +This horse came into his possession in this fashion. +</p> + +<p> +As he was riding one day through a neighbouring village, Tchertop-hanov +heard a crowd of peasants shouting and hooting before a tavern. In the +middle of the crowd stalwart arms were continually rising and falling in +exactly the same place. +</p> + +<p> +'What is happening there?' he asked, in the peremptory tone peculiar to +him, of an old peasant woman who was standing on the threshold of her +hut. Leaning against the doorpost as though dozing, the old woman stared +in the direction of the tavern. A white-headed urchin in a print smock, +with a cypress-wood cross on his little bare breast, was sitting with +little outstretched legs, and little clenched fists between her bast +slippers; a chicken close by was chipping at a stale crust of rye-bread. +</p> + +<p> +'The Lord knows, your honour,' answered the old woman. Bending forward, +she laid her wrinkled brown hand on the child's head. 'They say our lads +are beating a Jew.' +</p> + +<p> +'A Jew? What Jew?' +</p> + +<p> +'The Lord knows, your honour. A Jew came among us; and where he's come +from--who knows? Vassya, come to your mammy, sir; sh, sh, nasty brute!' +</p> + +<p> +The old woman drove away the chicken, while Vassya clung to her +petticoat. +</p> + +<p> +'So, you see, they're beating him, sir.' +</p> + +<p> +'Why beating him? What for?' +</p> + +<p> +'I don't know, your honour. No doubt, he deserves it. And, indeed, why +not beat him? You know, your honour, he crucified Christ!' +</p> + +<p> +Tchertop-hanov uttered a whoop, gave his horse a lash on the neck with +the riding-whip, flew straight towards the crowd, and plunging into it, +began with the same riding-whip thrashing the peasants to left and to +right indiscriminately, shouting in broken tones: 'Lawless brutes! +lawless brutes! It's for the law to punish, and not pri-vate per-sons! +The law! the law! the law!' +</p> + +<p> +Before two minutes had passed the crowd had beaten a retreat in various +directions; and on the ground before the tavern door could be seen a +small, thin, swarthy creature, in a nankin long coat, dishevelled and +mangled... a pale face, rolling eyes, open mouth.... What was it?... +deadly terror, or death itself? +</p> + +<p> +'Why have you killed this Jew?' Tchertop-hanov shouted at the top of his +voice, brandishing his riding-whip menacingly. +</p> + +<p> +The crowd faintly roared in response. One peasant was rubbing his +shoulder, another his side, a third his nose. +</p> + +<p> +'You're pretty free with your whip!' was heard in the back rows. +</p> + +<p> +'Why have you killed the Jew, you christened Pagans?' repeated +Tchertop-hanov. +</p> + +<p> +But, at this point, the creature lying on the ground hurriedly jumped on +to its feet, and, running up to Tchertop-hanov, convulsively seized hold +of the edge of the saddle. +</p> + +<p> +'Alive!' was heard in the background. +</p> + +<p> +'He's a regular cat!' +</p> + +<p> +'Your ex-shelency, defend me, save me!' the unhappy Jew was faltering +meanwhile, his whole body squeezed up against Tchertop-hanov's foot; 'or +they will murder me, they will murder me, your ex-shelency!' +</p> + +<p> +'What have they against you?' asked Tchertop-hanov. +</p> + +<p> +'I can't tell, so help me God! Some cow hereabouts died... so they +suspect me... but I...' 'Well, that we'll go into later!' +Tchertop-hanov interrupted; 'but now, you hold on to the saddle and +follow me. And you!' he added, turning to the crowd,' do you know +me?--I'm the landowner Panteley Tchertop-hanov. I live at +Bezsonovo,--and so you can take proceedings against me, when you think +fit--and against the Jew too, while you're about it!' +</p> + +<p> +'Why take proceedings?' said a grey-bearded, decent-looking peasant, +bowing low, the very picture of an ancient patriarch. (He had been no +whit behind the others in belabouring the Jew, however). 'We know your +honour, Panteley Eremyitch, well; we thank your honour humbly for +teaching us better!' +</p> + +<p> +'Why take proceedings?' chimed in the others. +</p> + +<p> +'As to the Jew, we'll take it out of him another day! He won't escape +us! We shall be on the look-out for him.' +</p> + +<p> +Tchertop-hanov pulled his moustaches, snorted, and went home at a +walking pace, accompanied by the Jew, whom he had delivered from his +persecutors just as he had once delivered Tihon Nedopyuskin. +</p> + +<p><br /><br /></p> + +<p class="t3b"> +IV +</p> + +<p> +A few days later the one groom who was left to Tchertop-hanov announced +that someone had come on horseback and wanted to speak to him. +Tchertop-hanov went out on to the steps and recognised the Jew, riding a +splendid horse of the Don breed, which stood proud and motionless in the +middle of the courtyard. The Jew was bareheaded; he held his cap under +his arm, and had thrust his feet into the stirrup-straps, not into the +stirrups themselves; the ragged skirts of his long coat hung down on +both sides of the saddle. On seeing Tchertop-hanov, he gave a smack with +his lips, and ducked down with a twitch of the elbows and a bend of the +legs. Tchertop-hanov, however, not only failed to respond to his +greeting, but was even enraged by it; he was all on fire in a minute: a +scurvy Jew dare to ride a magnificent horse like that!... It was +positively indecent! +</p> + +<p> +'Hi, you Ethiopian fright!' he shouted; 'get off at once, if you don't +want to be flung off into the mud!' +</p> + +<p> +The Jew promptly obeyed, rolled off the horse like a sack, and keeping +hold of the rein with one hand, he approached Tchertop-hanov, smiling +and bowing. +</p> + +<p> +'What do you want?' Panteley Eremyitch inquired with dignity. +</p> + +<p> +'Your ex-shelency, deign to look what a horse!' said the Jew, never +ceasing to bow for an instant. +</p> + +<p> +'Er... well... the horse is all right. Where did you get it from? +Stole it, I suppose?' +</p> + +<p> +'How can you say that, your ex-shelency! I'm an honest Jew. I didn't +steal it, but I obtained it for your ex-shelency--really! And the +trouble, the trouble I had to get it? But, then, see what a horse it is! +There's not another horse like it to be found in all the Don country! +Look, your ex-shelency, what a horse it is! Here, kindly step this way! +Wo!... wo!... turn round, stand sideways! And we'll take off the +saddle. What do you think of him, your ex-shelency?' +</p> + +<p> +'The horse is all right,' repeated Tchertop-hanov with affected +indifference, though his heart was beating like a sledge-hammer in his +breast. He was a passionate lover of 'horse-flesh,' and knew a good +thing when he saw it. +</p> + +<p> +'Only take a look at him, your ex-shelency! Pat him on the neck! yes, +yes, he-he-he-he! like this, like this!' +</p> + +<p> +Tchertop-hanov, with apparent reluctance, laid his hand on the horse's +neck, gave it a pat or two, then passed his fingers from the forelock +along the spine, and when he had reached a certain spot above the +kidneys, like a connoisseur, he lightly pressed that spot. The horse +instantly arched its spine, and looking round suspiciously at +Tchertop-hanov with its haughty black eye, snorted and moved its hind +legs. +</p> + +<p> +The Jew laughed and faintly clapped his hands. 'He knows his master, +your ex-shelency, his master!' +</p> + +<p> +'Don't talk nonsense,' Tchertop-hanov interrupted with vexation. 'To buy +this horse from you... I haven't the means, and as for presents, I not +only wouldn't take them from a Jew; I wouldn't take a present from +Almighty God Himself!' +</p> + +<p> +'As though I would presume to offer you a present, mercy upon me!' cried +the Jew: 'you buy it, your ex-shelency... and as to the little sum--I +can wait for it.' +</p> + +<p> +Tchertop-hanov sank into thought. +</p> + +<p> +'What will you take for it?' he muttered at last between his teeth. +</p> + +<p> +The Jew shrugged his shoulders. +</p> + +<p> +'What I paid for it myself. Two hundred roubles.' +</p> + +<p> +The horse was well worth twice---perhaps even three times that sum. +</p> + +<p> +Tchertop-hanov turned away and yawned feverishly. +</p> + +<p> +'And the money... when?' he asked, scowling furiously and not looking +at the Jew. +</p> + +<p> +'When your ex-shelency thinks fit.' +</p> + +<p> +Tchertop-hanov flung his head back, but did not raise his eyes. 'That's +no answer. Speak plainly, son of Herod! Am I to be under an obligation +to you, hey?' +</p> + +<p> +'Well, let's say, then,' the Jew hastened to add, 'in six months' time... +Do you agree?' +</p> + +<p> +Tchertop-hanov made no reply. +</p> + +<p> +The Jew tried to get a look at his face. 'Do you agree? You permit him +to be led to your stable?' +</p> + +<p> +'The saddle I don't want,' Tchertop-hanov blurted out abruptly. 'Take +the saddle--do you hear?' +</p> + +<p> +'To be sure, to be sure, I will take it,' faltered the delighted Jew, +shouldering the saddle. +</p> + +<p> +'And the money,' Tchertop-hanov pursued... 'in six months. And not two +hundred, but two hundred and fifty. Not a word! Two hundred and fifty, I +tell you! to my account.' +</p> + +<p> +Tchertop-hanov still could not bring himself to raise his eyes. Never +had his pride been so cruelly wounded. +</p> + +<p> +'It's plain, it's a present,' was the thought in his mind; 'he's brought +it out of gratitude, the devil!' And he would have liked to kiss the +Jew, and he would have liked to beat him. +</p> + +<p> +'Your ex-shelency,' began the Jew, gaining a little courage, and +grinning all over his face, 'should, after the Russian fashion, take +from hand to hand....' +</p> + +<p> +'What next? what an idea! A Hebrew... and Russian customs! Hey! you +there! Take the horse; lead him to the stable. And give him some oats. +I'll come myself and look after him. And his name is to be--Malek-Adel!' +</p> + +<p> +Tchertop-hanov turned to go up the steps, but turning sharply back, and +running up to the Jew, he pressed his hand warmly. The latter was +bending down to kiss his hand, but Tchertop-hanov bounded back again, +and murmuring, 'Tell no one!' he vanished through the door. +</p> + +<p><br /><br /></p> + +<p class="t3b"> +V +</p> + +<p> +From that very day the chief interest, the chief occupation, the chief +pleasure in the life of Tchertop-hanov, was Malek-Adel. He loved him as +he had not loved even Masha; he became more attached to him than even to +Nedopyuskin. And what a horse it was! All fire--simply explosive as +gunpowder--and stately as a boyar! Untiring, enduring, obedient, +whatever you might put him to; and costing nothing for his keep; he'd be +ready to nibble at the ground under his feet if there was nothing else. +When he stepped at a walking pace, it was like being lulled to sleep in +a nurse's arms; when he trotted, it was like rocking at sea; when he +galloped, he outstripped the wind! Never out of breath, perfectly sound +in his wind. Sinews of steel: for him to stumble was a thing never +recorded! To take a ditch or a fence was nothing to him--and what a +clever beast! At his master's voice he would run with his head in the +air; if you told him to stand still and walked away from him, he would +not stir; directly you turned back, a faint neigh to say, 'Here I am.' +And afraid of nothing: in the pitch-dark, in a snow-storm he would find +his way; and he would not let a stranger come near him for anything; he +would have had his teeth in him! And a dog dare never approach him; he +would have his fore-leg on his head in a minute! and that was the end of +the beast. A horse of proper pride, you might flourish a switch over him +as an ornament--but God forbid you touched him! But why say more?--a +perfect treasure, not a horse! +</p> + +<p> +If Tchertop-hanov set to describing his Malek-Adel, he could not find +words to express himself. And how he petted and pampered him! His coat +shone like silver--not old, but new silver--with a dark polish on it; if +one passed one's hand over it, it was like velvet! His saddle, his +cloth, his bridle--all his trappings, in fact, were so well-fitted, in +such good order, so bright--a perfect picture! Tchertop-hanov +himself--what more can we say?--with his own hands plaited his +favourite's forelocks and mane, and washed his tail with beer, and even, +more than once, rubbed his hoofs with polish. Sometimes he would mount +Malek-Adel and ride out, not to see his neighbours--he avoided them, as +of old--but across their lands, past their homesteads... for them, poor +fools, to admire him from a distance! Or he would hear that there was to +be a hunt somewhere, that a rich landowner had arranged a meet in some +outlying part of his land: he would be off there at once, and would +canter in the distance, on the horizon, astounding all spectators by the +swiftness and beauty of his horse, and not letting any one come close to +him. Once some hunting landowner even gave chase to him with all his +suite; he saw Tchertop-hanov was getting away, and he began shouting +after him with all his might, as he galloped at full speed: 'Hey, you! +Here! Take what you like for your horse! I wouldn't grudge a thousand! +I'd give my wife, my children! Take my last farthing!' +</p> + +<p> +Tchertop-hanov suddenly reined in Malek-Adel. The hunting gentleman flew +up to him. 'My dear sir!' he shouted, 'tell me what you want? My dear +friend!' +</p> + +<p> +'If you were the Tsar,' said Tchertop-hanov emphatically (and he had +never heard of Shakespeare), 'you might give me all your kingdom for my +horse; I wouldn't take it!' He uttered these words, chuckled, drew +Malek-Adel up on to his haunches, turned him in the air on his hind legs +like a top or teetotum, and off! He went like a flash over the stubble. +And the hunting man (a rich prince, they said he was) flung his cap on +the ground, threw himself down with his face in his cap, and lay so for +half an hour. +</p> + +<p> +And how could Tchertop-hanov fail to prize his horse? Was it not thanks +to him, he had again an unmistakable superiority, a last superiority +over all his neighbours? +</p> + +<p><br /><br /></p> + +<p class="t3b"> +VI +</p> + +<p> +Meanwhile time went by, the day fixed for payment was approaching; +while, far from having two hundred and fifty roubles, Tchertop-hanov had +not even fifty. What was to be done? how could it be met? 'Well,' he +decided at last, 'if the Jew is relentless, if he won't wait any longer, +I'll give him my house and my land, and I'll set off on my horse, no +matter where! I'll starve before I'll give up Malek-Adel!' He was +greatly perturbed and even downcast; but at this juncture Fate, for the +first and last time, was pitiful and smiled upon him; some distant +kinswoman, whose very name was unknown to Tchertop-hanov, left him in +her will a sum immense in his eyes--no less than two thousand roubles! +And he received this sum in the very nick, as they say, of time; the day +before the Jew was to come. Tchertop-hanov almost went out of his mind +with joy, but he never even thought of vodka; from the very day +Malek-Adel came into his hands he had not touched a drop. +</p> + +<p> +He ran into the stable and kissed his favourite on both sides of his +face above the nostrils, where the horse's skin is always so soft. 'Now +we shall not be parted!' he cried, patting Malek-Adel on the neck, under +his well-combed mane. When he went back into the house, he counted out +and sealed up in a packet two hundred and fifty roubles. Then, as he lay +on his back and smoked a pipe, he mused on how he would lay out the rest +of the money--what dogs he would procure, real Kostroma hounds, spot and +tan, and no mistake! He even had a little talk with Perfishka, to whom +he promised a new Cossack coat, with yellow braid on all the seams, and +went to bed in a blissful frame of mind. +</p> + +<p> +He had a bad dream: he dreamt he was riding out, hunting, not on +Malek-Adel, but on some strange beast of the nature of a unicorn; a +white fox, white as snow, ran to meet him.... He tried to crack his +whip, tried to set the dogs on her--but instead of his riding-whip, he +found he had a wisp of bast in his hand, and the fox ran in front of +him, putting her tongue out at him. He jumped off, his unicorn stumbled, +he fell... and fell straight into the arms of a police-constable, who +was taking him before the Governor-General, and whom he recognised as +Yaff.... +</p> + +<p> +Tchertop-hanov waked up. The room was dark; the cocks were just crowing +for the second time.... Somewhere in the far, far distance a horse +neighed. Tchertop-hanov lifted up his head.... Once more a faint, faint +neigh was heard. +</p> + +<p> +'That's Malek-Adel neighing!' was his thought.... 'It's his neigh. But +why so far away? Bless us and save us!... It can't be...' +</p> + +<p> +Tchertop-hanov suddenly turned chill all over; he instantly leaped out +of bed, fumbled after his boots and his clothes, dressed himself, and, +snatching up the stable-door key from under his pillow, he dashed out +into the courtyard. +</p> + +<p><br /><br /></p> + +<p class="t3b"> +VII +</p> + +<p> +The stable was at the very end of the courtyard; one wall faced the open +country. Tchertop-hanov could not at once fit the key into the lock--his +hands were shaking--and he did not immediately turn the key.... He stood +motionless, holding his breath; if only something would stir inside! +'Malek! Malek!' he cried, in a low voice: the silence of death! +Tchertop-hanov unconsciously jogged the key; the door creaked and +opened.... So, it was not locked. He stepped over the threshold, and +again called his horse; this time by his full name, Malek-Adel! But no +response came from his faithful companion; only a mouse rustled in the +straw. Then Tchertop-hanov rushed into one of the three horse-boxes in +the stable in which Malek-Adel was put. He went straight to the +horse-box, though it was pitch-dark around.... Empty! Tchertop-hanov's +head went round; it seemed as though a bell was booming in his brain. He +tried to say something, but only brought out a sort of hiss; and +fumbling with his hands above, below, on all sides, breathless, with +shaking knees, he made his way from one horse-box to another... to a +third, full almost to the top with hay; stumbled against one wall, and +then the other; fell down, rolled over on his head, got up, and suddenly +ran headlong through the half-open door into the courtyard.... +</p> + +<p> +'Stolen! Perfishka! Perfishka! Stolen!' he yelled at the top of his +voice. +</p> + +<p> +The groom Perfishka flew head-over-heels out of the loft where he slept, +with only his shirt on.... +</p> + +<p> +Like drunk men they ran against one another, the master and his solitary +servant, in the middle of the courtyard; like madmen they turned round +each other. The master could not explain what was the matter; nor could +the servant make out what was wanted of him. 'Woe! woe!' wailed +Tchertop-hanov. 'Woe! woe!' the groom repeated after him. 'A lantern! +here! light a lantern! Light! light!' broke at last from +Tchertop-hanov's fainting lips. Perfishka rushed into the house. +</p> + +<p> +But to light the lantern, to get fire, was not easy; lucifer matches +were regarded as a rarity in those days in Russia; the last embers had +long ago gone out in the kitchen; flint and steel were not quickly +found, and they did not work well. Gnashing his teeth, Tchertop-hanov +snatched them out of the hands of the flustered Perfishka, and began +striking a light himself; the sparks fell in abundance, in still greater +abundance fell curses, and even groans; but the tinder either did not +catch or went out again, in spite of the united efforts of four swollen +cheeks and lips to blow it into a flame! At last, in five minutes, not +sooner, a bit of tallow candle was alight at the bottom of a battered +lantern; and Tchertop-hanov, accompanied by Perfishka, dashed into the +stable, lifted the lantern above his head, looked round.... +</p> + +<p> +All empty! +</p> + +<p> +He bounded out into the courtyard, ran up and down it in all +directions--no horse anywhere! The hurdle-fence, enclosing Panteley +Eremyitch's yard, had long been dilapidated, and in many places was bent +and lying on the ground.... Beside the stable, it had been completely +levelled for a good yard's width. Perfishka pointed this spot out to +Tchertop-hanov. +</p> + +<p> +'Master! look here; this wasn't like this to-day. And see the ends of +the uprights sticking out of the ground; that means someone has pulled +them out.' +</p> + +<p> +Tchertop-hanov ran up with the lantern, moved it about over the +ground.... +</p> + +<p> +'Hoofs, hoofs, prints of horse-shoes, fresh prints!' he muttered, +speaking hurriedly.' They took him through here, through here!' +</p> + +<p> +He instantly leaped over the fence, and with a shout, 'Malek-Adel! +Malek-Adel!' he ran straight into the open country. +</p> + +<p> +Perfishka remained standing bewildered at the fence. The ring of light +from the lantern was soon lost to his eyes, swallowed up in the dense +darkness of a starless, moonless night. +</p> + +<p> +Fainter and fainter came the sound of the despairing cries of +Tchertop-hanov.... +</p> + +<p><br /><br /></p> + +<p class="t3b"> +VIII +</p> + +<p> +It was daylight when he came home again. He hardly looked like a human +being. His clothes were covered with mud, his face had a wild and +ferocious expression, his eyes looked dull and sullen. In a hoarse +whisper he drove Perfishka away, and locked himself in his room. He +could hardly stand with fatigue, but he did not lie on his bed, but sat +down on a chair by the door and clutched at his head. +</p> + +<p> +'Stolen!... stolen!...' +</p> + +<p> +But in what way had the thief contrived by night, when the stable was +locked, to steal Malek-Adel? Malek-Adel, who would never let a stranger +come near him even by day--steal him, too, without noise, without a +sound? And how explain that not a yard-dog had barked? It was true there +were only two left--two young puppies--and those two probably burrowing +in rubbish from cold and hunger--but still! +</p> + +<p> +'And what am I to do now without Malek-Adel?' Tchertop-hanov brooded. +'I've lost my last pleasure now; it's time to die. Buy another horse, +seeing the money has come? But where find another horse like that?' +</p> + +<p> +'Panteley Eremyitch! Panteley Eremyitch!' he heard a timid call at the +door. +</p> + +<p> +Tchertop-hanov jumped on to his feet. +</p> + +<p> +'Who is it?' he shouted in a voice not his own. +</p> + +<p> +'It's I, your groom, Perfishka.' +</p> + +<p> +'What do you want? Is he found? has he run home?' +</p> + +<p> +'No, Panteley Eremyitch; but that Jew chap who sold him.'... +</p> + +<p> +'Well?' +</p> + +<p> +'He's come.' +</p> + +<p> +'Ho-ho-ho-ho-ho!' yelled Tchertop-hanov, and he at once flung open the +door. 'Drag him here! drag him along!' +</p> + +<p> +On seeing the sudden apparition of his 'benefactor's' dishevelled, +wild-looking figure, the Jew, who was standing behind Perfishka's back, +tried to give them the slip; but Tchertop-hanov, in two bounds, was upon +him, and like a tiger flew at his throat. +</p> + +<p> +'Ah! he's come for the money! for the money!' he cried as hoarsely as +though he were being strangled himself instead of strangling the Jew; +'you stole him by night, and are come by day for the money, eh? Eh? Eh?' +</p> + +<p> +'Mercy on us, your ex-shelency,' the Jew tried to groan out. +</p> + +<p> +'Tell me, where's my horse? What have you done with him? Whom have you +sold him to? Tell me, tell me, tell me!' +</p> + +<p> +The Jew by now could not even groan; his face was rapidly turning livid, +and even the expression of fear had vanished from it. His hands dropped +and hung lifeless, his whole body, furiously shaken by Tchertop-hanov, +waved backwards and forwards like a reed. +</p> + +<p> +'I'll pay you your money, I'll pay it you in full to the last farthing,' +roared Tchertop-hanov, 'but I'll strangle you like any chicken if you +don't tell me at once!'... +</p> + +<p> +'But you have strangled him already, master,' observed the groom +Perfishka humbly. +</p> + +<p> +Then only Tchertop-hanov came to his senses. +</p> + +<p> +He let go of the Jew's neck; the latter fell heavily to the ground. +Tchertop-hanov picked him up, sat him on a bench, poured a glass of +vodka down his throat, and restored him to consciousness. And having +restored him to consciousness, he began to talk to him. +</p> + +<p> +It turned out that the Jew had not the slightest idea that Malek-Adel +had been stolen. And, indeed, what motive could he have to steal the +horse which he had himself procured for his 'revered Panteley +Eremyitch.' +</p> + +<p> +Then Tchertop-hanov led him into the stable. +</p> + +<p> +Together they scrutinised the horse-boxes, the manger, and the lock on +the door, turned over the hay and the straw, and then went into the +courtyard. Tchertop-hanov showed the Jew the hoofprints at the fence, +and all at once he slapped his thighs. +</p> + +<p> +'Stay!' he cried. 'Where did you buy the horse?' +</p> + +<p> +'In the district of Maloarchangel, at Verhosensky Fair,' answered the +Jew. +</p> + +<p> +'Of whom?' +</p> + +<p> +'A Cossack.' +</p> + +<p> +Stay! This Cossack; was he a young man or old?' +</p> + +<p> +'Middle-aged--a steady man.' +</p> + +<p> +'And what was he like? What did he look like? A cunning rascal, I +expect?' +</p> + +<p> +'Sure to have been a rascal, your ex-shelency.' +</p> + +<p> +'And, I say, what did he say, this rascal?--had he had the horse long?' +</p> + +<p> +'I recollect he said he'd had it a long while.' +</p> + +<p> +'Well, then, no one could have stolen him but he! Consider it yourself, +listen, stand here!... What's your name?' +</p> + +<p> +The Jew started and turned his little black eyes upon Tchertop-hanov. +</p> + +<p> +'What's my name?' +</p> + +<p> +'Yes, yes; what are you called?' +</p> + +<p> +'Moshel Leyba.' +</p> + +<p> +'Well, judge then, Moshel Leyba, my friend--you're a man of sense--whom +would Malek-Adel have allowed to touch him except his old master? You +see he must have saddled him and bridled him and taken off his +cloth--there it is lying on the hay!... and made all his arrangements +simply as if he were at home! Why, anyone except his master, Malek-Adel +would have trampled under foot! He'd have raised such a din, he'd have +roused the whole village? Do you agree with me?' +</p> + +<p> +'I agree, I agree, your ex-shelency.'... +</p> + +<p> +'Well, then, it follows that first of all we must find this Cossack!' +</p> + +<p> +'But how are we to find him, your ex-shelency? I have only seen him one +little time in my life, and where is he now, and what's his name? Alack, +alack!' added the Jew, shaking the long curls over his ears sorrowfully. +</p> + +<p> +'Leyba!' shouted Tchertop-hanov suddenly; 'Leyba, look at me! You see +I've lost my senses; I'm not myself!... I shall lay hands on myself if +you don't come to my aid!' +</p> + +<p> +'But how can I?'... +</p> + +<p> +'Come with me, and let us find the thief.' +</p> + +<p> +'But where shall we go?' +</p> + +<p> +'We'll go to the fairs, the highways and by-ways, to the horse-stealers, +to towns and villages and hamlets--everywhere, everywhere! And don't +trouble about money; I've come into a fortune, brother! I'll spend my +last farthing, but I'll get my darling back! And he shan't escape us, +our enemy, the Cossack! Where he goes we'll go! If he's hidden in the +earth we'll follow him! If he's gone to the devil, we'll follow him to +Satan himself!' +</p> + +<p> +'Oh, why to Satan?' observed the Jew; 'we can do without him.' +</p> + +<p> +'Leyba!' Tchertop-hanov went on; 'Leyba, though you're a Jew, and your +creed's an accursed one, you've a soul better than many a Christian +soul! Have pity on me! I can't go alone; alone I can never carry the +thing through. I'm a hot-headed fellow, but you've a brain--a brain +worth its weight in gold! Your race are like that; you succeed in +everything without being taught! You're wondering, perhaps, where I +could have got the money? Come into my room--I'll show you all the +money. You may take it, you may take the cross off my neck, only give me +back Malek-Adel; give him me back again!' +</p> + +<p> +Tchertop-hanov was shivering as if he were in a fever; the sweat rolled +down his face in drops, and, mingling with his tears, was lost in his +moustaches. He pressed Leyba's hands, he besought him, he almost kissed +him.... He was in a sort of delirium. The Jew tried to object, to +declare that it was utterly impossible for him to get away; that he had +business.... It was useless! Tchertop-hanov would not even hear +anything. There was no help for it; the poor Jew consented. +</p> + +<p> +The next day Tchertop-hanov set out from Bezsonovo in a peasant cart, +with Leyba. The Jew wore a somewhat troubled aspect; he held on to the +rail with one hand, while all his withered figure bounded up and down on +the jolting seat; the other hand he held pressed to his bosom, where lay +a packet of notes wrapped up in newspaper. Tchertop-hanov sat like a +statue, only moving his eyes about him, and drawing in deep breaths; in +his sash there was stuck a dagger. +</p> + +<p> +'There, the miscreant who has parted us must look out for himself now!' +he muttered, as they drove out on the high-road. +</p> + +<p> +His house he left in the charge of Perfishka and an old cook, a deaf old +peasant woman, whom he took care of out of compassion. +</p> + +<p> +'I shall come back to you on Malek-Adel,' he shouted to them at parting, +'or never come back at all!' +</p> + +<p> +'You might as well be married to me at once!' jested Perfishka, giving +the cook a dig in the ribs with his elbow. 'No fear! the master'll never +come back to us; and here I shall be bored to death all alone!' +</p> + +<p><br /><br /></p> + +<p class="t3b"> +IX +</p> + +<p> +A year passed... a whole year: no news had come of Panteley Eremyitch. +The cook was dead, Perfishka himself made up his mind to abandon the +house and go off to town, where he was constantly being persuaded to +come by his cousin, apprenticed to a barber; when suddenly a rumour was +set afloat that his master was coming back. The parish deacon got a +letter from Panteley Eremyitch himself, in which he informed him of his +intention of arriving at Bezsonovo, and asked him to prepare his servant +to be ready for his immediate return. These words Perfishka understood +to mean that he was to sweep up the place a bit. He did not, however, +put much confidence in the news; he was convinced, though, that the +deacon had spoken the truth, when a few days later Panteley Eremyitch in +person appeared in the courtyard, riding on Malek-Adel. +</p> + +<p> +Perfishka rushed up to his master, and, holding the stirrup, would have +helped him to dismount, but the latter got off alone, and with a +triumphant glance about him, cried in a loud voice: 'I said I would find +Malek-Adel, and I have found him in spite of my enemies, and of Fate +itself!' Perfishka went up to kiss his hand, but Tchertop-hanov paid no +attention to his servant's devotion. Leading Malek-Adel after him by the +rein, he went with long strides towards the stable. Perfishka looked +more intently at his master, and his heart sank. 'Oh, how thin and old +he's grown in a year; and what a stern, grim face!' One would have +thought Panteley Eremyitch would have been rejoicing, that he had gained +his end; and he was rejoicing, certainly... and yet Perfishka's heart +sank: he even felt a sort of dread. Tchertop-hanov put the horse in its +old place, gave him a light pat on the back, and said, 'There! now +you're at home again; and mind what you're about.' The same day he hired +a freedman out of work as watchman, established himself again in his +rooms, and began living as before.... +</p> + +<p> +Not altogether as before, however... but of that later... +</p> + +<p> +The day after his return, Panteley Eremyitch called Perfishka in to him, +and for want of anyone else to talk to, began telling him--keeping up, +of course, his sense of his own dignity and his bass voice--how he had +succeeded in finding Malek-Adel. Tchertop-hanov sat facing the window +while he told his story, and smoked a pipe with a long tube while +Perfishka stood in the doorway, his hands behind his back, and, +respectfully contemplating the back of his master's head, heard him +relate how, after many fruitless efforts and idle expeditions, Panteley +Eremyitch had at last come to the fair at Romyon by himself, without the +Jew Leyba, who, through weakness of character, had not persevered, but +had deserted him; how, on the fifth day, when he was on the point of +leaving, he walked for the last time along the rows of carts, and all at +once he saw between three other horses fastened to the railings--he saw +Malek-Adel! How he knew him at once, and how Malek-Adel knew him too, +and began neighing, and dragging at his tether, and scraping the earth +with his hoof. +</p> + +<p> +'And he was not with the Cossack,' Tchertop-hanov went on, still not +turning his head, and in the same bass voice, 'but with a gypsy +horse-dealer; I, of course, at once took hold of my horse and tried to +get him away by force, but the brute of a gypsy started yelling as if +he'd been scalded, all over the market, and began swearing he'd bought +the horse off another gypsy--and wanted to bring witnesses to prove +it.... I spat, and paid him the money: damn the fellow! All I cared for +was that I had found my favourite, and had got back my peace of mind. +Moreover, in the Karatchevsky district, I took a man for the Cossack--I +took the Jew Leyba's word for it that he was my thief--and smashed his +face for him; but the Cossack turned out to be a priest's son, and got +damages out of me--a hundred and twenty roubles. Well, money's a thing +one may get again, but the great thing is, I've Malek-Adel back again! +I'm happy now--I'm going to enjoy myself in peace. And I've one +instruction to give you, Perfishka: if ever you, which God forbid, catch +sight of the Cossack in this neighbourhood, run the very minute without +saying a word, and bring me my gun, and I shall know what to do!' +</p> + +<p> +This was what Panteley Eremyitch said to Perfishka: this was how his +tongue spoke; but at heart he was not so completely at peace as he +declared. +</p> + +<p> +Alas! in his heart of hearts he was not perfectly convinced that the +horse he had brought back was really Malek-Adel! +</p> + +<p><br /><br /></p> + +<p class="t3b"> +X +</p> + +<p> +Troubled times followed for Panteley Eremyitch. Peace was just the last +thing he enjoyed. He had some happy days, it is true; the doubt stirring +within him would seem to him all nonsense; he would drive away the +ridiculous idea, like a persistent fly, and even laugh at himself; but +he had bad days too: the importunate thought began again stealthily +gnawing and tearing at his heart, like a mouse under the floor, and he +existed in secret torture. On the memorable day when he found +Malek-Adel, Tchertop-hanov had felt nothing but rapturous bliss... but +the next morning, when, in a low-pitched shed of the inn, he began +saddling his recovered joy, beside whom he had spent the whole night, he +felt for the first time a certain secret pang.... He only shook his +head, but the seed was sown. During the homeward journey (it lasted a +whole week) doubts seldom arose in him; they grew stronger and more +distinct directly he was back at Bezsonovo, directly he was home again +in the place where the old authentic Malek-Adel had lived.... On the +road home he had ridden at a quiet, swinging pace, looking in all +directions, smoking a short pipe, and not reflecting at all, except at +times the thought struck him: 'When the Tchertop-hanovs want a thing, +they get it, you bet!' and he smiled to himself; but on his return home +it was a very different state of things. All this, however, he kept to +himself; vanity alone would have prevented him from giving utterance to +his inner dread. He would have torn anyone to pieces who had dropped the +most distant hint that the new Malek-Adel was possibly not the old one; +he accepted congratulations on his 'successful recovery of his horse,' +from the few persons whom he happened to meet; but he did not seek such +congratulations; he avoided all contact with people more than ever--a +bad sign! He was almost always putting Malek-Adel through examinations, +if one may use the expression; he would ride him out to some point at a +little distance in the open country, and put him to the proof, or would +go stealthily into the stable, lock the door after him, and standing +right before the horse's head, look into his eyes, and ask him in a +whisper, 'Is it you? Is it you? You?'... or else stare at him silently +and intently for hours together, and then mutter, brightening up: 'Yes! +it's he! Of course it's he!' or else go out with a puzzled, even +confused look on his face. Tchertop-hanov was not so much confused by +the physical differences between <i>this</i> Malek-Adel and <i>that</i> +one... though there were a few such differences: <i>that</i> one's tail +and mane were a little thinner, and his ears more pointed, and his +pasterns shorter, and his eyes brighter--but all that might be only +fancy; what confounded Tchertop-hanov most were, so to say, the moral +differences. The habits of <i>that</i> one had been different: all his +ways were not the same. For instance, <i>that</i> Malek-Adel had looked +round and given a faint neigh every time Tchertop-hanov went into the +stable; while <i>this</i> one went on munching hay as though nothing had +happened, or dozed with his head bent. Both of them stood still when +their master leaped out of the saddle; but <i>that</i> one came at once +at his voice when he was called, while <i>this</i> one stood stock +still. <i>That</i> one galloped as fast, but with higher and longer +bounds; <i>this</i> one went with a freer step and at a more jolting +trot, and at times 'wriggled' with his shoes--that is, knocked the back +one against the front one; <i>that</i> one had never done anything so +disgraceful--God forbid! <i>This</i> one, it struck Tchertop-hanov, kept +twitching his ears in such a stupid way, while with <i>that</i> one it +was quite the contrary; he used to lay one ear back, and hold it so, as +though on the alert for his master! <i>That</i> one, directly he saw +that it was dirty about him, would at once knock on the partition of his +box with his hind-leg, but <i>this</i> one did not care if the dung was +heaped up to his belly. <i>That</i> one if, for instance, he were set +facing the wind, would take deep breaths and shake himself, <i>this</i> +one simply snorted; <i>that</i> one was put out by the rain, <i>this</i> +one cared nothing for it.... This was a coarser beast--coarser! And +there wasn't the gentleness in it, and hard in the mouth it was--no +denying it! That horse was a darling, but this.... +</p> + +<p> +This was what Tchertop-hanov sometimes thought, and very bitter were +such thoughts to him. At other times he would set his horse at full +gallop over some newly ploughed field, or would make him leap down to +the very bottom of a hollow ravine, and leap out again at the very +steepest point, and his heart would throb with rapture, a loud whoop +would break from his lips, and he would know, would know for certain, +that it was the real, authentic Malek-Adel he had under him; for what +other horse could do what this one was doing? +</p> + +<p> +However, there were sometimes shortcomings and misfortunes even here. +The prolonged search for Malek-Adel had cost Tchertop-hanov a great deal +of money; he did not even dream of Kostroma hounds now, and rode about +the neighbourhood in solitude as before. So one morning, four miles from +Bezsonovo, Tchertop-hanov chanced to come upon the same prince's hunting +party before whom he had cut such a triumphant figure a year and a half +before. And, as fate would have it, just as on that day a hare must go +leaping out from the hedge before the dogs, down the hillside! Tally-ho! +Tally-ho! All the hunt fairly flew after it, and Tchertop-hanov flew +along too, but not with the rest of the party, but two hundred paces to +one side of it, just as he had done the time before. A huge watercourse +ran zigzagging across the hillside, and as it rose higher and higher got +gradually narrower, cutting off Tchertop-hanov's path. At the point +where he had to jump it, and where, eighteen months before, he actually +had jumped it, it was eight feet wide and fourteen feet deep. In +anticipation of a triumph--a triumph repeated in such a delightful +way--Tchertop-hanov chuckled exultantly, cracked his riding-whip; the +hunting party were galloping too, their eyes fixed on the daring rider; +his horse whizzed along like a bullet, and now the watercourse was just +under his nose--now, now, at one leap, as then!... But Malek-Adel pulled +up sharply, wheeled to the left, and in spite of Tchertop-hanov's +tugging him to the edge, to the watercourse, he galloped along beside +the ravine. +</p> + +<p> +He was afraid, then; did not trust himself! +</p> + +<p> +Then Tchertop-hanov, burning with shame and wrath, almost in tears, +dropped the reins, and set the horse going straight forward, down the +hill, away, away from the hunting party, if only not to hear them +jeering at him, to escape as soon as might be from their damnable eyes! +</p> + +<p> +Covered with foam, his sides lashed unmercifully, Malek-Adel galloped +home, and Tchertop-hanov at once locked himself into his room. +</p> + +<p> +'No, it's not he; it's not my darling! He would have broken his neck +before he would have betrayed me!' +</p> + +<p><br /><br /></p> + +<p class="t3b"> +XI +</p> + +<p> +What finally 'did for,' as they say, Tchertop-hanov was the following +circumstance. One day he sauntered, riding on Malek-Adel, about the +back-yards of the priest's quarters round about the church of the parish +in which is Bezsonovo. Huddled up, with his Cossack fur cap pulled down +over his eyes, and his hands hanging loose on the saddle-bow, he jogged +slowly on, a vague discontent in his heart. Suddenly someone called him. +</p> + +<p> +He stopped his horse, raised his head, and saw his correspondent, the +deacon. With a brown, three-cornered hat on his brown hair, which was +plaited in a pig-tail, attired in a yellowish nankin long coat, girt +much below the waist by a strip of blue stuff, the servant of the altar +had come out into his back-garden, and, catching sight of Panteley +Eremyitch, he thought it his duty to pay his respects to him, and to +take the opportunity of doing so to ask him a question about something. +Without some such hidden motive, as we know, ecclesiastical persons do +not venture to address temporal ones. +</p> + +<p> +But Tchertop-hanov was in no mood for the deacon; he barely responded to +his bow, and, muttering something between his teeth, he was already +cracking his whip, when.... +</p> + +<p> +'What a magnificent horse you have!' the deacon made haste to add: 'and +really you can take credit to yourself for it. Truly you're a man of +amazing cleverness, simply a lion indeed!' +</p> + +<p> +His reverence the deacon prided himself on his fluency, which was a +great source of vexation to his reverence the priest, to whom the gift +of words had not been vouchsafed; even vodka did not loosen his tongue. +</p> + +<p> +'After losing one animal by the cunning of evil men,' continued the +deacon, 'you did not lose courage in repining; but, on the other hand, +trusting the more confidently in Divine Providence, procured yourself +another, in no wise inferior, but even, one may say, superior, +since....' +</p> + +<p> +'What nonsense are you talking?' Tchertop-hanov interrupted gloomily; +'what other horse do you mean? This is the same one; this is +Malek-Adel.... I found him. The fellow's raving!'.... +</p> + +<p> +'Ay! ay! ay!' responded the deacon emphatically with a sort of drawl, +drumming with his fingers in his beard, and eyeing Tchertop-hanov with +his bright eager eyes: 'How's that, sir? Your horse, God help my memory, +was stolen a fortnight before Intercession last year, and now we're near +the end of November.' +</p> + +<p> +'Well, what of that?' +</p> + +<p> +The deacon still fingered his beard. +</p> + +<p> +'Why, it follows that more than a year's gone by since then, and your +horse was a dapple grey then, just as it is now; in fact, it seems even +darker. How's that? Grey horses get a great deal lighter in colour in a +year.' +</p> + +<p> +Tchertop-hanov started... as though someone had driven a dagger into +his heart. It was true: the grey colour did change! How was it such a +simple reflection had never occurred to him? +</p> + +<p> +'You damned pigtail! get out!' he yelled suddenly, his eyes flashing +with fury, and instantaneously he disappeared out of the sight of the +amazed deacon. +</p> + +<p> +Well, everything was over! +</p> + +<p> +Now, at last, everything was really over, everything was shattered, the +last card trumped. Everything crumbled away at once before that word +'lighter'! +</p> + +<p> +Grey horses get lighter in colour! +</p> + +<p> +'Gallop, gallop on, accursed brute! You can never gallop away from that +word!' +</p> + +<p> +Tchertop-hanov flew home, and again locked himself up. +</p> + +<p><br /><br /></p> + +<p class="t3b"> +XII +</p> + +<p> +That this worthless jade was not Malek-Adel; that between him and +Malek-Adel there was not the smallest resemblance; that any man of the +slightest sense would have seen this from the first minute; that he, +Tchertop-hanov, had been taken in in the vulgarest way--no! that he +purposely, of set intent, tricked himself, blinded his own eyes--of all +this he had not now the faintest doubt! +</p> + +<p> +Tchertop-hanov walked up and down in his room, turning monotonously on +his heels at each wall, like a beast in a cage. His vanity suffered +intolerably; but he was not only tortured by the sting of wounded +vanity; he was overwhelmed by despair, stifled by rage, and burning with +the thirst for revenge. But rage against whom? On whom was he to be +revenged? On the Jew, Yaff, Masha, the deacon, the Cossack-thief, all +his neighbours, the whole world, himself? His brain was giving way. The +last card was trumped! (That simile gratified him.) And he was again the +most worthless, the most contemptible of men, a common laughing-stock, a +motley fool, a damned idiot, an object for jibes--to a deacon!... He +fancied, he pictured vividly how that loathsome pig-tailed priest would +tell the story of the grey horse and the foolish gentleman.... O damn!! +In vain Tchertop-hanov tried to check his rising passion, in vain he +tried to assure himself that this... horse, though not Malek-Adel, was +still... a good horse, and might be of service to him for many years to +come; he put this thought away from him on the spot with fury, as though +there were contained in it a new insult to <i>that</i> Malek-Adel whom +he considered he had wronged so already.... Yes, indeed! this jade, this +carrion he, like a blind idiot, had put on a level with him, Malek-Adel! +And as to the service the jade could be to him!... as though he would +ever deign to get astride of him? Never! on no consideration!!... He +would sell him to a Tartar for dog's meat--it deserved no better end.... +Yes, that would be best!' +</p> + +<p> +For more than two hours Tchertop-hanov wandered up and down his room. +</p> + +<p> +'Perfishka!' he called peremptorily all of a sudden, 'run this minute to +the tavern; fetch a gallon of vodka! Do you hear? A gallon, and look +sharp! I want the vodka here this very second on the table!' +</p> + +<p> +The vodka was not long in making its appearance on Panteley Eremyitch's +table, and he began drinking. +</p> + +<p><br /><br /></p> + +<p class="t3b"> +XIII +</p> + +<p> +If anyone had looked at Tchertop-hanov then; if anyone could have been a +witness of the sullen exasperation with which he drained glass after +glass--he would inevitably have felt an involuntary shudder of fear. The +night came on, the tallow candle burnt dimly on the table. +Tchertop-hanov ceased wandering from corner to corner; he sat all +flushed, with dull eyes, which he dropped at one time on the floor, at +another fixed obstinately on the dark window; he got up, poured out some +vodka, drank it off, sat down again, again fixed his eyes on one point, +and did not stir--only his breathing grew quicker and his face still +more flushed. It seemed as though some resolution were ripening within +him, which he was himself ashamed of, but which he was gradually getting +used to; one single thought kept obstinately and undeviatingly moving up +closer and closer, one single image stood out more and more distinctly, +and under the burning weight of heavy drunkenness the angry irritation +was replaced by a feeling of ferocity in his heart, and a vindictive +smile appeared on his lips. +</p> + +<p> +'Yes, the time has come!' he declared in a matter-of-fact, almost weary +tone. 'I must get to work.' +</p> + +<p> +He drank off the last glass of vodka, took from over his bed the +pistol--the very pistol from which he had shot at Masha--loaded it, put +some cartridges in his pocket--to be ready for anything--and went round +to the stables. +</p> + +<p> +The watchman ran up to him when he began to open the door, but he +shouted to him: 'It's I! Are you blind? Get out!' The watchman moved a +little aside. 'Get out and go to bed!' Tchertop-hanov shouted at him +again: 'there's nothing for you to guard here! A mighty wonder, a +treasure indeed to watch over!' He went into the stable. Malek-Adel... +the spurious Malek-Adel, was lying on his litter. Tchertop-hanov gave +him a kick, saying, 'Get up, you brute!' Then he unhooked a halter from +a nail, took off the horsecloth and flung it on the ground, and roughly +turning the submissive horse round in the box, led it out into the +courtyard, and from the yard into the open country, to the great +amazement of the watchman, who could not make out at all where the +master was going off to by night, leading an unharnessed horse. He was, +of course, afraid to question him, and only followed him with his eyes +till he disappeared at the bend in the road leading to a neighbouring +wood. +</p> + +<p><br /><br /></p> + +<p class="t3b"> +XIV +</p> + +<p> +Tchertop-hanov walked with long strides, not stopping nor looking round. +Malek-Adel--we will call him by that name to the end--followed him +meekly. It was a rather clear night; Tchertop-hanov could make out the +jagged outline of the forest, which formed a black mass in front of him. +When he got into the chill night air, he would certainly have thrown off +the intoxication of the vodka he had drunk, if it had not been for +another, stronger intoxication, which completely over-mastered him. His +head was heavy, his blood pulsed in thuds in his throat and ears, but he +went on steadily, and knew where he was going. +</p> + +<p> +He had made up his mind to kill Malek-Adel; he had thought of nothing +else the whole day.... Now he had made up his mind! +</p> + +<p> +He went out to do this thing not only calmly, but confidently, +unhesitatingly, as a man going about something from a sense of duty. +This 'job' seemed a very 'simple' thing to him; in making an end of the +impostor, he was quits with 'everyone' at once--he punished himself for +his stupidity, and made expiation to his real darling, and showed the +whole world (Tchertop-hanov worried himself a great deal about the +'whole world') that he was not to be trifled with.... And, above all, he +was making an end of himself too with the impostor--for what had he to +live for now? How all this took shape in his brain, and why, it seemed +to him so simple--it is not easy to explain, though not altogether +impossible; stung to the quick, solitary, without a human soul near to +him, without a halfpenny, and with his blood on fire with vodka, he was +in a state bordering on madness, and there is no doubt that even in the +absurdest freaks of mad people there is, to their eyes, a sort of logic, +and even justice. Of his justice Tchertop-hanov was, at any rate, fully +persuaded; he did not hesitate, he made haste to carry out sentence on +the guilty without giving himself any clear definition of whom he meant +by that term.... To tell the truth, he reflected very little on what he +was about to do. 'I must, I must make an end,' was what he kept stupidly +and severely repeating to himself; 'I must make an end!' +</p> + +<p> +And the guiltless guilty one followed in a submissive trot behind his +back.... But there was no pity for him in Tchertop-hanov's heart. +</p> + +<p><br /><br /></p> + +<p class="t3b"> +XV +</p> + +<p> +Not far from the forest to which he was leading his horse there +stretched a small ravine, half overgrown with young oak bushes. +Tchertop-hanov went down into it.... Malek-Adel stumbled and almost fell +on him. +</p> + +<p> +'So you would crush me, would you, you damned brute!' shouted +Tchertop-hanov, and, as though in self-defence, he pulled the pistol out +of his pocket. He no longer felt furious exasperation, but that special +numbness of the senses which they say comes over a man before the +perpetration of a crime. But his own voice terrified him--it sounded so +wild and strange under the cover of dark branches in the close, decaying +dampness of the forest ravine! Moreover, in response to his exclamation, +some great bird suddenly fluttered in a tree-top above his head... +Tchertop-hanov shuddered. He had, as it were, roused a witness to his +act--and where? In that silent place where he should not have met a +living creature.... +</p> + +<p> +'Away with you, devil, to the four winds of heaven!' he muttered, and +letting go Malek-Adel's rein, he gave him a violent blow on the shoulder +with the butt end of the pistol. Malek-Adel promptly turned back, +clambered out of the ravine... and ran away. But the thud of his hoofs +was not long audible. The rising wind confused and blended all sounds +together. +</p> + +<p> +Tchertop-hanov too slowly clambered out of the ravine, reached the +forest, and made his way along the road homewards. He was ill at ease +with himself; the weight he had felt in his head and his heart had +spread over all his limbs; he walked angry, gloomy, dissatisfied, +hungry, as though some one had insulted him, snatched his prey, his food +from him.... +</p> + +<p> +The suicide, baffled in his intent, must know such sensations. +</p> + +<p> +Suddenly something poked him behind between his shoulder blades. He +looked round.... Malek-Adel was standing in the middle of the road. He +had walked after his master; he touched him with his nose to announce +himself. +</p> + +<p> +'Ah!' shouted Tchertop-hanov,' of yourself, of yourself you have come to +your death! So, there!' +</p> + +<p> +In the twinkling of an eye he had snatched out his pistol, drawn the +trigger, turned the muzzle on Malek-Adel's brow, fired.... +</p> + +<p> +The poor horse sprung aside, rose on its haunches, bounded ten paces +away, and suddenly fell heavily, and gasped as it writhed upon the +ground.... +</p> + +<p> +Tchertop-hanov put his two hands over his ears and ran away. His knees +were shaking under him. His drunkenness and revenge and blind +self-confidence--all had flown at once. There was left nothing but a +sense of shame and loathing--and the consciousness, unmistakeable, that +this time he had put an end to himself too. +</p> + +<p><br /><br /></p> + +<p class="t3b"> +XVI +</p> + +<p> +Six weeks later, the groom Perfishka thought it his duty to stop the +commissioner of police as he happened to be passing Bezsonovo. +</p> + +<p> +'What do you want?' inquired the guardian of order. +</p> + +<p> +'If you please, your excellency, come into our house,' answered the +groom with a low bow. +</p> + +<p> +'Panteley Eremyitch, I fancy, is about to die; so that I'm afraid of +getting into trouble.' +</p> + +<p> +'What? die?' queried the commissioner. +</p> + +<p> +'Yes, sir. First, his honour drank vodka every day, and now he's taken +to his bed and got very thin. I fancy his honour does not understand +anything now. He's lost his tongue completely.' +</p> + +<p> +The commissioner got out of his trap. +</p> + +<p> +'Have you sent for the priest, at least? Has your master been confessed? +Taken the sacrament?' +</p> + +<p> +'No, sir!' +</p> + +<p> +The commissioner frowned. 'How is that, my boy? How can that be--hey? +Don't you know that for that... you're liable to have to answer +heavily--hey?' +</p> + +<p> +'Indeed, and I did ask him the day before yesterday, and yesterday +again,' protested the intimidated groom. "Wouldn't you, Panteley +Eremyitch," says I, "let me run for the priest, sir?" "You hold your +tongue, idiot," says he; "mind your own business." But to-day, when I +began to address him, his honour only looked at me, and twitched his +moustache.' +</p> + +<p> +'And has he been drinking a great deal of vodka?' inquired the +commissioner. +</p> + +<p> +'Rather! But if you would be so good, your honour, come into his room.' +</p> + +<p> +'Well, lead the way!' grumbled the commissioner, and he followed +Perfishka. +</p> + +<p> +An astounding sight was in store for him. In a damp, dark back-room, on +a wretched bedstead covered with a horsecloth, with a rough felt cloak +for a pillow, lay Tchertop-hanov. He was not pale now, but yellowish +green, like a corpse, with sunken eyes under leaden lids and a sharp, +pinched nose--still reddish--above his dishevelled whiskers. He lay +dressed in his invariable Caucasian coat, with the cartridge pockets on +the breast, and blue Circassian trousers. A Cossack cap with a crimson +crown covered his forehead to his very eyebrows. In one hand +Tchertop-hanov held his hunting whip, in the other an embroidered +tobacco pouch--Masha's last gift to him. On a table near the bed stood +an empty spirit bottle, and at the head of the bed were two water-colour +sketches pinned to the wall; one represented, as far as could be made +out, a fat man with a guitar in his hand--probably Nedopyuskin; the +other portrayed a horseman galloping at full speed.... The horse was +like those fabulous animals which are sketched by children on walls and +fences; but the carefully washed-in dappling of the horse's grey coat, +and the cartridge pocket on the rider's breast, the pointed toes of his +boots, and the immense moustaches, left no room for doubt--this sketch +was meant to represent Panteley Eremyitch riding on Malek-Adel. +</p> + +<p> +The astonished commissioner of police did not know how to proceed. The +silence of death reigned in the room. 'Why, he's dead already!' he +thought, and raising his voice, he said, 'Panteley Eremyitch! Eh, +Panteley Eremyitch!' +</p> + +<p> +Then something extraordinary occurred. Tchertop-hanov's eyelids slowly +opened, the eyes, fast growing dim, moved first from right to left, then +from left to right, rested on the commissioner--saw him.... Something +gleamed in their dull whites, the semblance of a flash came back to +them, the blue lips were gradually unglued, and a hoarse, almost +sepulchral, voice was heard. +</p> + +<p> +'Panteley Eremyitch of the ancient hereditary nobility is dying: who can +hinder him? He owes no man anything, asks nothing from any one.... Leave +him, people! Go!' +</p> + +<p> +The hand holding the whip tried to lift it... In vain! The lips cleaved +together again, the eyes closed, and as before Tchertop-hanov lay on his +comfortless bed, flat as an empty sack, and his feet close together. +</p> + +<p> +'Let me know when he dies,' the commissioner whispered to Perfishka as +he went out of the room; 'and I suppose you can send for the priest now. +You must observe due order; give him extreme unction.' +</p> + +<p> +Perfishka went that same day for the priest, and the following morning +he had to let the commissioner know: Panteley Eremyitch had died in the +night. +</p> + +<p> +When they buried him, two men followed his coffin; the groom Perfishka +and Moshel Leyba. The news of Tchertop-hanov's death had somehow reached +the Jew, and he did not fail to pay this last act of respect to his +benefactor. +</p> + +<p><br /><br /><br /></p> + +<h3> +<a id="chap23"></a> +XXIII +</h3> + +<h3> +A LIVING RELIC +</h3> + +<p class="poem"> + 'O native land of long suffering,<br /> + Land of the Russian people.'<br /> + F. TYUTCHEV.<br /> +</p> + +<p> +A French proverb says that 'a dry fisherman and a wet hunter are a sorry +sight.' Never having had any taste for fishing, I cannot decide what are +the fisherman's feelings in fine bright weather, and how far in bad +weather the pleasure derived from the abundance of fish compensates for +the unpleasantness of being wet. But for the sportsman rain is a real +calamity. It was to just this calamity that Yermolaï and I were exposed +on one of our expeditions after grouse in the Byelevsky district. The +rain never ceased from early morning. What didn't we do to escape it? We +put macintosh capes almost right over our heads, and stood under the +trees to avoid the raindrops.... The waterproof capes, to say nothing of +their hindering our shooting, let the water through in the most +shameless fashion; and under the trees, though at first, certainly, the +rain did not reach us, afterwards the water collected on the leaves +suddenly rushed through, every branch dripped on us like a waterspout, a +chill stream made its way under our neck-ties, and trickled down our +spines.... This was 'quite unpleasant,' as Yermolaï expressed it. 'No, +Piotr Petrovitch,' he cried at last; 'we can't go on like +this....There's no shooting to-day. The dogs' scent is drowned. The guns +miss fire....Pugh! What a mess!' +</p> + +<p> +'What's to be done?' I queried. +</p> + +<p> +'Well, let's go to Aleksyevka. You don't know it, perhaps--there's a +settlement of that name belonging to your mother; it's seven miles from +here. We'll stay the night there, and to-morrow....' +</p> + +<p> +'Come back here?' +</p> + +<p> +'No, not here....I know of some places beyond Aleksyevka...ever so much +better than here for grouse!' +</p> + +<p> +I did not proceed to question my faithful companion why he had not taken +me to those parts before, and the same day we made our way to my +mother's peasant settlement, the existence of which, I must confess, I +had not even suspected up till then. At this settlement, it turned out, +there was a little lodge. It was very old, but, as it had not been +inhabited, it was clean; I passed a fairly tranquil night in it. +</p> + +<p> +The next day I woke up very early. The sun had only just risen; there +was not a single cloud in the sky; everything around shone with a double +brilliance--the brightness of the fresh morning rays and of yesterday's +downpour. While they were harnessing me a cart, I went for a stroll +about a small orchard, now neglected and run wild, which enclosed the +little lodge on all sides with its fragrant, sappy growth. Ah, how sweet +it was in the open air, under the bright sky, where the larks were +trilling, whence their bell-like notes rained down like silvery beads! +On their wings, doubtless, they had carried off drops of dew, and their +songs seemed steeped in dew. I took my cap off my head and drew a glad +deep breath.... On the slope of a shallow ravine, close to the hedge, +could be seen a beehive; a narrow path led to it, winding like a snake +between dense walls of high grass and nettles, above which struggled up, +God knows whence brought, the pointed stalks of dark-green hemp. +</p> + +<p> +I turned along this path; I reached the beehive. Beside it stood a +little wattled shanty, where they put the beehives for the winter. I +peeped into the half-open door; it was dark, still, dry within; there +was a scent of mint and balm. In the corner were some trestles fitted +together, and on them, covered with a quilt, a little figure of some +sort.... I was walking away.... +</p> + +<p> +'Master, master! Piotr Petrovitch!' I heard a voice, faint, slow, and +hoarse, like the whispering of marsh rushes. +</p> + +<p> +I stopped. +</p> + +<p> +'Piotr Petrovitch! Come in, please!' the voice repeated. It came from +the corner where were the trestles I had noticed. +</p> + +<p> +I drew near, and was struck dumb with amazement. Before me lay a living +human being; but what sort of a creature was it? +</p> + +<p> +A head utterly withered, of a uniform coppery hue--like some very +ancient holy picture, yellow with age; a sharp nose like a keen-edged +knife; the lips could barely be seen--only the teeth flashed white and +the eyes; and from under the kerchief some thin wisps of yellow hair +straggled on to the forehead. At the chin, where the quilt was folded, +two tiny hands of the same coppery hue were moving, the fingers slowly +twitching like little sticks. I looked more intently; the face, far from +being ugly, was positively beautiful, but strange and dreadful; and the +face seemed the more dreadful to me that on it--on its metallic +cheeks--I saw, struggling...struggling, and unable to form itself--a +smile. +</p> + +<p> +'You don't recognise me, master?' whispered the voice again: it seemed +to be breathed from the almost unmoving lips. 'And, indeed, how should +you? I'm Lukerya....Do you remember, who used to lead the dance at your +mother's, at Spasskoye?... Do you remember, I used to be leader of the +choir too?' +</p> + +<p> +'Lukerya!' I cried. 'Is it you? Can it be?' +</p> + +<p> +'Yes, it's I, master--I, Lukerya.' +</p> + +<p> +I did not know what to say, and gazed in stupefaction at the dark +motionless face with the clear, death-like eyes fastened upon me. Was it +possible? This mummy Lukerya--the greatest beauty in all our +household--that tall, plump, pink-and-white, singing, laughing, dancing +creature! Lukerya, our smart Lukerya, whom all our lads were courting, +for whom I heaved some secret sighs--I, a boy of sixteen! +</p> + +<p> +'Mercy, Lukerya!' I said at last; 'what is it has happened to you?' +</p> + +<p> +'Oh, such a misfortune befel me! But don't mind me, sir; don't let my +trouble revolt you; sit there on that little tub--a little nearer, or +you won't be able to hear me....I've not much of a voice +now-a-days!... Well, I am glad to see you! What brought you to +Aleksyevka?' +</p> + +<p> +Lukerya spoke very softly and feebly, but without pausing. +</p> + +<p> +'Yermolaï, the huntsman, brought me here. But you tell me...' +</p> + +<p> +'Tell you about my trouble? Certainly, sir. It happened to me a long +while ago now--six or seven years. I had only just been betrothed then +to Vassily Polyakov--do you remember, such a fine-looking fellow he was, +with curly hair?--he waited at table at your mother's. But you weren't +in the country then; you had gone away to Moscow to your studies. We +were very much in love, Vassily and me; I could never get him out of my +head; and it was in the spring it all happened. Well, one night...not +long before sunrise, it was...I couldn't sleep; a nightingale in the +garden was singing so wonderfully sweet!... I could not help getting up +and going out on to the steps to listen. It trilled and trilled... and +all at once I fancied some one called me; it seemed like Vassya's voice, +so softly, "Lusha!"... I looked round, and being half asleep, I suppose, +I missed my footing and fell straight down from the top-step, and flop +on to the ground! And I thought I wasn't much hurt, for I got up +directly and went back to my room. Only it seems something inside me--in +my body--was broken.... Let me get my breath...half a minute... sir.' +</p> + +<p> +Lukerya ceased, and I looked at her with surprise. What surprised me +particularly was that she told her story almost cheerfully, without +sighs and groans, not complaining nor asking for sympathy. +</p> + +<p> +'Ever since that happened,' Lukerya went on, 'I began to pine away and +get thin; my skin got dark; walking was difficult for me; and then--I +lost the use of my legs altogether; I couldn't stand or sit; I had to +lie down all the time. And I didn't care to eat or drink; I got worse +and worse. Your mamma, in the kindness of her heart, made me see +doctors, and sent me to a hospital. But there was no curing me. And not +one doctor could even say what my illness was. What didn't they do to +me?--they burnt my spine with hot irons, they put me in lumps of ice, +and it was all no good. I got quite numb in the end.... +</p> + +<p> +So the gentlemen decided it was no use doctoring me any more, and there +was no sense in keeping cripples up at the great house... well, and so +they sent me here--because I've relations here. So here I live, as you +see.' +</p> + +<p> +Lukerya was silent again, and again she tried to smile. +</p> + +<p> +'But this is awful--your position!' I cried... and not knowing how to +go on, I asked: 'and what of Vassily Polyakov?' A most stupid question +it was. +</p> + +<p> +Lukerya turned her eyes a little away. +</p> + +<p> +'What of Polyakov? He grieved--he grieved for a bit--and he is married +to another, a girl from Glinnoe. Do you know Glinnoe? It's not far from +us. Her name's Agrafena. He loved me dearly--but, you see, he's a young +man; he couldn't stay a bachelor. And what sort of a helpmeet could I +be? The wife he found for himself is a good, sweet woman--and they have +children. He lives here; he's a clerk at a neighbour's; your mamma let +him go off with a passport, and he's doing very well, praise God.' +</p> + +<p> +'And so you go on lying here all the time?' I asked again. +</p> + +<p> +'Yes, sir, I've been lying here seven years. In the summer-time I lie +here in this shanty, and when it gets cold they move me out into the +bath-house: I lie there.' +</p> + +<p> +'Who waits on you? Does any one look after you?' +</p> + +<p> +'Oh, there are kind folks here as everywhere; they don't desert me. Yes, +they see to me a little. As to food, I eat nothing to speak of; but +water is here, in the pitcher; it's always kept full of pure spring +water. I can reach to the pitcher myself: I've one arm still of use. +There's a little girl here, an orphan; now and then she comes to see me, +the kind child. She was here just now.... You didn't meet her? Such a +pretty, fair little thing. She brings me flowers. We've some in the +garden--there were some--but they've all disappeared. But, you know, +wild flowers too are nice; they smell even sweeter than garden flowers. +Lilies of the valley, now... what could be sweeter?' +</p> + +<p> +'And aren't you dull and miserable, my poor Lukerya?' +</p> + +<p> +'Why, what is one to do? I wouldn't tell a lie about it. At first it was +very wearisome; but later on I got used to it, I got more patient--it +was nothing; there are others worse off still.' +</p> + +<p> +'How do you mean?' +</p> + +<p> +'Why, some haven't a roof to shelter them, and there are some blind or +deaf; while I, thank God, have splendid sight, and hear +everything--everything. If a mole burrows in the ground--I hear even +that. And I can smell every scent, even the faintest! When the buckwheat +comes into flower in the meadow, or the lime-tree in the garden--I don't +need to be told of it, even; I'm the first to know directly. Anyway, if +there's the least bit of a wind blowing from that quarter. No, he who +stirs God's wrath is far worse off than me. Look at this, again: anyone +in health may easily fall into sin; but I'm cut off even from sin. The +other day, father Aleksy, the priest, came to give me the sacrament, and +he says: "There's no need," says he, "to confess you; you can't fall +into sin in your condition, can you?" But I said to him; "How about +sinning in thought, father?" "Ah, well," says he, and he laughed +himself, "that's no great sin." +</p> + +<p> +'But I fancy I'm no great sinner even in that way, in thought,' Lukerya +went on, 'for I've trained myself not to think, and above all, not to +remember. The time goes faster.' +</p> + +<p> +I must own I was astonished. 'You're always alone, Lukerya: how can you +prevent the thoughts from coming into your head? or are you constantly +asleep?' +</p> + +<p> +'Oh, no, sir! I can't always sleep. Though I've no great pain, still +I've an ache, there, right inside, and in my bones too; it won't let me +sleep as I ought. No... but there, I lie by myself; I lie here and lie +here, and don't think: I feel that I'm alive, I breathe; and I put +myself all into that. I look and listen. The bees buzz and hum in the +hive; a dove sits on the roof and coos; a hen comes along with her +chickens to peck up crumbs; or a sparrow flies in, or a +butterfly--that's a great treat for me. Last year some swallows even +built a nest over there in the corner, and brought up their little ones. +Oh, how interesting it was! One would fly to the nest, press close, feed +a young one, and off again. Look again: the other would be in her place +already. Sometimes it wouldn't fly in, but only fly past the open door; +and the little ones would begin to squeak, and open their beaks +directly....I was hoping for them back again the next year, but they say +a sportsman here shot them with his gun. And what could he gain by it? +It's hardly bigger, the swallow, than a beetle....What wicked men you +are, you sportsmen!' +</p> + +<p> +'I don't shoot swallows,' I hastened to remark. +</p> + +<p> +'And once, Lukerya began again, 'it was comical, really. A hare ran in, +it did really! The hounds, I suppose, were after it; anyway, it seemed +to tumble straight in at the door!... It squatted quite near me, and sat +so a long while; it kept sniffing with its nose, and twitching its +whiskers--like a regular officer! and it looked at me. It understood, to +be sure, that I was no danger to it. At last it got up, went hop-hop to +the door, looked round in the doorway; and what did it look like? Such a +funny fellow it was!' +</p> + +<p> +Lukerya glanced at me, as much as to say, 'Wasn't it funny?' To satisfy +her, I laughed. She moistened her parched lips. +</p> + +<p> +'Well, in the winter, of course, I'm worse off, because it's dark: to +burn a candle would be a pity, and what would be the use? I can read, to +be sure, and was always fond of reading, but what could I read? There +are no books of any kind, and even if there were, how could I hold a +book? Father Aleksy brought me a calendar to entertain me, but he saw it +was no good, so he took and carried it away again. But even though it's +dark, there's always something to listen to: a cricket chirps, or a +mouse begins scratching somewhere. That's when it's a good thing--not to +think!' +</p> + +<p> +'And I repeat the prayers too,' Lukerya went on, after taking breath a +little; 'only I don't know many of them---the prayers, I mean. And +besides, why should I weary the Lord God? What can I ask Him for? He +knows better than I what I need. He has laid a cross upon me: that means +that He loves me. So we are commanded to understand. I repeat the Lord's +Prayer, the Hymn to the Virgin, the Supplication of all the Afflicted, +and I lie still again, without any thought at all, and am all right!' +</p> + +<p> +Two minutes passed by. I did not break the silence, and did not stir on +the narrow tub which served me as a seat. The cruel stony stillness of +the living, unlucky creature lying before me communicated itself to me; +I too turned, as it were, numb. +</p> + +<p> +'Listen, Lukerya,' I began at last; 'listen to the suggestion I'm going +to make to you. Would you like me to arrange for them to take you to a +hospital--a good hospital in the town? Who knows, perhaps you might yet +be cured; anyway, you would not be alone'... +</p> + +<p> +Lukerya's eyebrows fluttered faintly. 'Oh, no, sir,' she answered in a +troubled whisper; 'don't move me into a hospital; don't touch me. I +shall only have more agony to bear there! How could they cure me now?... +Why, there was a doctor came here once; he wanted to examine me. I +begged him, for Christ's sake, not to disturb me. It was no use. He +began turning me over, pounding my hands and legs, and pulling me about. +He said, "I'm doing this for Science; I'm a servant of Science--a +scientific man! And you," he said, "really oughtn't to oppose me, +because I've a medal given me for my labours, and it's for you +simpletons I'm toiling." He mauled me about, told me the name of my +disease--some wonderful long name--and with that he went away; and all +my poor bones ached for a week after. You say "I'm all alone; always +alone." Oh, no, I'm not always; they come to see me--I'm quiet--I don't +bother them. The peasant girls come in and chat a bit; a pilgrim woman +will wander in, and tell me tales of Jerusalem, of Kiev, of the holy +towns. And I'm not afraid of being alone. Indeed, it's better--ay, ay! +Master, don't touch me, don't take me to the hospital.... Thank you, you +are kind; only don't touch me, there's a dear!' +</p> + +<p> +'Well, as you like, as you like, Lukerya. You know, I only suggested it +for your good.' +</p> + +<p> +'I know, master, that it was for my good. But, master dear, who can help +another? Who can enter into his soul? Every man must help himself! You +won't believe me, perhaps. I lie here sometimes so alone...and it's as +though there were no one else in the world but me. As if I alone were +living! And it seems to me as though something were blessing me....I'm +carried away by dreams that are really marvellous!' +</p> + +<p> +'What do you dream of, then, Lukerya?' +</p> + +<p> +'That, too, master, I couldn't say; one can't explain. Besides, one +forgets afterwards. It's like a cloud coming over and bursting, then it +grows so fresh and sweet; but just what it was, there's no knowing! Only +my idea is, if folks were near me, I should have nothing of that, and +should feel nothing except my misfortune.' +</p> + +<p> +Lukerya heaved a painful sigh. Her breathing, like her limbs, was not +under her control. +</p> + +<p> +'When I come to think, master, of you,' she began again, 'you are very +sorry for me. But you mustn't be too sorry, really! I'll tell you one +thing; for instance, I sometimes, even now.... Do you remember how merry +I used to be in my time? A regular madcap!... So do you know what? I sing +songs even now.' +</p> + +<p> +'Sing?... You?' +</p> + +<p> +'Yes; I sing the old songs, songs for choruses, for feasts, Christmas +songs, all sorts! I know such a lot of them, you see, and I've not +forgotten them. Only dance songs I don't sing. In my state now, it +wouldn't suit me.' +</p> + +<p> +'How do you sing them?...to yourself?' +</p> + +<p> +'To myself, yes; and aloud too. I can't sing loud, but still one can +understand it. I told you a little girl waits on me. A clever little +orphan she is. So I have taught her; four songs she has learnt from me +already. Don't you believe me? Wait a minute, I'll show you +directly....' +</p> + +<p> +Lukerya took breath.... The thought that this half-dead creature was +making ready to begin singing raised an involuntary feeling of dread in +me. But before I could utter a word, a long-drawn-out, hardly audible, +but pure and true note, was quivering in my ears... it was followed by +a second and a third. 'In the meadows,' sang Lukerya. She sang, the +expression of her stony face unchanged, even her eyes riveted on one +spot. But how touchingly tinkled out that poor struggling little voice, +that wavered like a thread of smoke: how she longed to pour out all her +soul in it!... I felt no dread now; my heart throbbed with unutterable +pity. +</p> + +<p> +'Ah, I can't!' she said suddenly. 'I've not the strength. I'm so upset +with joy at seeing you.' +</p> + +<p> +She closed her eyes. +</p> + +<p> +I laid my hand on her tiny, chill fingers.... She glanced at me, and her +dark lids, fringed with golden eyelashes, closed again, and were still +as an ancient statue's. An instant later they glistened in the +half-darkness.... They were moistened by a tear. +</p> + +<p> +As before, I did not stir. +</p> + +<p> +'How silly I am!' said Lukerya suddenly, with unexpected force, and +opened her eyes wide: she tried to wink the tears out of them. 'I ought +to be ashamed! What am I doing? It's a long time since I have been like +this... not since that day when Vassya-Polyakov was here last spring. +While he sat with me and talked, I was all right; but when he had gone +away, how I did cry in my loneliness! Where did I get the tears from? +But, there! we girls get our tears for nothing. Master,' added Lukerya, +'perhaps you have a handkerchief.... If you won't mind, wipe my eyes.' +</p> + +<p> +I made haste to carry out her desire, and left her the handkerchief. She +refused it at first.... 'What good's such a gift to me?' she said. The +handkerchief was plain enough, but clean and white. Afterwards she +clutched it in her weak fingers, and did not loosen them again. As I got +used to the darkness in which we both were, I could clearly make out her +features, could even perceive the delicate flush that peeped out under +the coppery hue of her face, could discover in the face, so at least it +seemed to me, traces of its former beauty. +</p> + +<p> +'You asked me, master,' Lukerya began again, 'whether I sleep. I sleep +very little, but every time I fall asleep I've dreams--such splendid +dreams! I'm never ill in my dreams; I'm always so well, and young.... +There's one thing's sad: I wake up and long for a good stretch, and I'm +all as if I were in chains. I once had such an exquisite dream! Shall I +tell it you? Well, listen. I dreamt I was standing in a meadow, and all +round me was rye, so tall, and ripe as gold!... and I had a reddish dog +with me--such a wicked dog; it kept trying to bite me. And I had a +sickle in my hands; not a simple sickle; it seemed to be the moon +itself--the moon as it is when it's the shape of a sickle. And with this +same moon I had to cut the rye clean. Only I was very weary with the +heat, and the moon blinded me, and I felt lazy; and cornflowers were +growing all about, and such big ones! And they all turned their heads to +me. And I thought in my dream I would pick them; Vassya had promised to +come, so I'd pick myself a wreath first; I'd still time to plait it. I +began picking cornflowers, but they kept melting away from between my +fingers, do what I would. And I couldn't make myself a wreath. And +meanwhile I heard someone coming up to me, so close, and calling, +"Lusha! Lusha!"... "Ah," I thought, "what a pity I hadn't time!" No +matter, I put that moon on my head instead of cornflowers. I put it on +like a tiara, and I was all brightness directly; I made the whole field +light around me. And, behold! over the very top of the ears there came +gliding very quickly towards me, not Vassya, but Christ Himself! And how +I knew it was Christ I can't say; they don't paint Him like that--only +it was He! No beard, tall, young, all in white, only His belt was +golden; and He held out His hand to me. "Fear not," said He; "My bride +adorned, follow Me; you shall lead the choral dance in the heavenly +kingdom, and sing the songs of Paradise." And how I clung to His hand! +My dog at once followed at my heels... but then we began to float +upwards! He in front.... His wings spread wide over all the sky, long +like a sea-gull's--and I after Him! And my dog had to stay behind. Then +only I understood that that dog was my illness, and that in the heavenly +kingdom there was no place for it.' +</p> + +<p> +Lukerya paused a minute. +</p> + +<p> +'And I had another dream, too,' she began again; 'but may be it was a +vision. I really don't know. It seemed to me I was lying in this very +shanty, and my dead parents, father and mother, come to me and bow low +to me, but say nothing. And I asked them, "Why do you bow down to me, +father and mother?" "Because," they said, "you suffer much in this +world, so that you have not only set free your own soul, but have taken +a great burden from off us too. And for us in the other world it is much +easier. You have made an end of your own sins; now you are expiating our +sins." And having said this, my parents bowed down to me again, and I +could not see them; there was nothing but the walls to be seen. I was in +great doubt afterwards what had happened with me. I even told the priest +of it in confession. Only he thinks it was not a vision, because visions +come only to the clerical gentry.' +</p> + +<p> +'And I'll tell you another dream,' Lukerya went on. 'I dreamt I was +sitting on the high-road, under a willow; I had a stick, had a wallet on +my shoulders, and my head tied up in a kerchief, just like a pilgrim +woman! And I had to go somewhere, a long, long way off, on a pilgrimage. +And pilgrims kept coming past me; they came along slowly, all going one +way; their faces were weary, and all very much like one another. And I +dreamt that moving about among them was a woman, a head taller than the +rest, and wearing a peculiar dress, not like ours--not Russian. And her +face too was peculiar--a worn face and severe. And all the others moved +away from her; but she suddenly turns, and comes straight to me. She +stood still, and looked at me; and her eyes were yellow, large, and +clear as a falcon's. And I ask her, "Who are you?" And she says to me, +"I'm your death." Instead of being frightened, it was quite the other +way. I was as pleased as could be; I crossed myself! And the woman, my +death, says to me: "I'm sorry for you, Lukerya, but I can't take you +with me. Farewell!" Good God! how sad I was then!... "Take me," said I, +"good mother, take me, darling!" And my death turned to me, and began +speaking to me.... I knew that she was appointing me my hour, but +indistinctly, incomprehensibly. "After St. Peter's day," said she.... +With that I awoke.... Yes, I have such wonderful dreams!' +</p> + +<p> +Lukerya turned her eyes upwards... and sank into thought.... +</p> + +<p> +'Only the sad thing is, sometimes a whole week will go by without my +getting to sleep once. Last year a lady came to see me, and she gave me +a little bottle of medicine against sleeplessness; she told me to take +ten drops at a time. It did me so much good, and I used to sleep; only +the bottle was all finished long ago. Do you know what medicine that +was, and how to get it?' +</p> + +<p> +The lady had obviously given Lukerya opium. I promised to get her +another bottle like it, and could not refrain from again wondering aloud +at her patience. +</p> + +<p> +'Ah, master!' she answered, 'why do you say so? What do you mean by +patience? There, Simeon Stylites now had patience certainly, great +patience; for thirty years he stood on a pillar! And another saint had +himself buried in the earth, right up to his breast, and the ants ate +his face.... And I'll tell you what I was told by a good scholar: there +was once a country, and the Ishmaelites made war on it, and they +tortured and killed all the inhabitants; and do what they would, the +people could not get rid of them. And there appeared among these people +a holy virgin; she took a great sword, put on armour weighing eighty +pounds, went out against the Ishmaelites and drove them all beyond the +sea. Only when she had driven them out, she said to them: "Now burn me, +for that was my vow, that I would die a death by fire for my people." +And the Ishmaelites took her and burnt her, and the people have been +free ever since then! That was a noble deed, now! But what am I!' +</p> + +<p> +I wondered to myself whence and in what shape the legend of Joan of Arc +had reached her, and after a brief silence, I asked Lukerya how old she +was. +</p> + +<p> +'Twenty-eight... or nine.... It won't be thirty. But why count the +years! I've something else to tell you....' +</p> + +<p> +Lukerya suddenly gave a sort of choked cough, and groaned.... +</p> + +<p> +'You are talking a great deal,' I observed to her; 'it may be bad for +you.' +</p> + +<p> +'It's true,' she whispered, hardly audibly; 'it's time to end our talk; +but what does it matter! Now, when you leave me, I can be silent as long +as I like. Any way, I've opened my heart....' +</p> + +<p> +I began bidding her good-bye. I repeated my promise to send her the +medicine, and asked her once more to think well and tell me--if there +wasn't anything she wanted?' +</p> + +<p> +'I want nothing; I am content with all, thank God!' she articulated with +very great effort, but with emotion; 'God give good health to all! But +there, master, you might speak a word to your mamma--the peasants here +are poor--if she could take the least bit off their rent! They've not +land enough, and no advantages.... They would pray to God for you.... +But I want nothing; I'm quite contented with all.' +</p> + +<p> +I gave Lukerya my word that I would carry out her request, and had +already walked to the door.... She called me back again. +</p> + +<p> +'Do you remember, master,' she said, and there was a gleam of something +wonderful in her eyes and on her lips, 'what hair I used to have? Do you +remember, right down to my knees! It was long before I could make up my +mind to it.... Such hair as it was! But how could it be kept combed? In +my state!... So I had it cut off.... Yes.... Well, good-bye, master! I +can't talk any more.'... +</p> + +<p> +That day, before setting off to shoot, I had a conversation with the +village constable about Lukerya. I learnt from him that in the village +they called Lukerya the 'Living Relic'; that she gave them no trouble, +however; they never heard complaint or repining from her. 'She asks +nothing, but, on the contrary, she's grateful for everything; a gentle +soul, one must say, if any there be. Stricken of God,' so the constable +concluded, 'for her sins, one must suppose; but we do not go into that. +And as for judging her, no--no, we do not judge her. Let her be!' +</p> + +<p class="t3"> + * * * * *<br /> +</p> + +<p> +A few weeks later I heard that Lukerya was dead. So her death had come +for her... and 'after St. Peter's day.' They told me that on the day of +her death she kept hearing the sound of bells, though it was reckoned +over five miles from Aleksyevka to the church, and it was a week-day. +Lukerya, however, had said that the sounds came not from the church, but +from above! Probably she did not dare to say--from heaven. +</p> + +<p><br /><br /><br /></p> + +<h3> +<a id="chap24"></a> +XXIV +</h3> + +<h3> +THE RATTLING OF WHEELS +</h3> + +<p> +'I've something to tell you,' observed Yermolaï, coming into the hut to +see me. I had just had dinner, and was lying down on a travelling bed to +rest a little after a fairly successful but fatiguing day of +grouse-shooting--it was somewhere about the 10th of July, and the heat +was terrific.... 'I've something to tell you: all our shot's gone.' +</p> + +<p> +I jumped off the bed. +</p> + +<p> +'All gone? How's that? Why, we took pretty nearly thirty pounds with us +from the village--a whole bag!' +</p> + +<p> +'That's so; and a big bag it was: enough for a fortnight. But there's no +knowing! There must have been a hole come in it, or something; anyway, +there's no shot... that's to say, there's enough for ten charges left.' +</p> + +<p> +'What are we to do now? The very best places are before us--we're +promised six coveys for to-morrow....' +</p> + +<p> +'Well, send me to Tula. It's not so far from here; only forty miles. +I'll fly like the wind, and bring forty pounds of shot if you say the +word.' +</p> + +<p> +'But when would you go?' +</p> + +<p> +'Why, directly. Why put it off? Only, I say, we shall have to hire +horses.' +</p> + +<p> +'Why hire horses? Why not our own?' +</p> + +<p> +'We can't drive there with our own. The shaft horse has gone lame... +terribly!' +</p> + +<p> +'Since when's that?' +</p> + +<p> +'Well, the other day, the coachman took him to be shod. So he was shod, +and the blacksmith, I suppose, was clumsy. Now, he can't even step on +the hoof. It's a front leg. He lifts it up... like a dog.' +</p> + +<p> +'Well? they've taken the shoe off, I suppose, at least?' +</p> + +<p> +'No, they've not; but, of course, they ought to take it off. A nail's +been driven right into the flesh, I should say.' +</p> + +<p> +I ordered the coachman to be summoned. It turned out that Yermolaï had +spoken the truth: the shaft-horse really could not put its hoof to the +ground. I promptly gave orders for it to have the shoe taken off, and to +be stood on damp clay. +</p> + +<p> +'Then do you wish me to hire horses to go to Tula?' Yermolaï persisted. +</p> + +<p> +'Do you suppose we can get horses in this wilderness?' I exclaimed with +involuntary irritation. The village in which we found ourselves was a +desolate, God-forsaken place; all its inhabitants seemed to be +poverty-stricken; we had difficulty in discovering one hut, moderately +roomy, and even that one had no chimney. +</p> + +<p> +'Yes,' replied Yermolaï with his habitual equanimity; 'what you said +about this village is true enough; but there used to be living in this +very place one peasant--a very clever fellow! rich too! He had nine +horses. He's dead, and his eldest son manages it all now. The man's a +perfect fool, but still he's not had time to waste his father's wealth +yet. We can get horses from him. If you say the word, I will fetch him. +His brothers, I've heard say, are smart chaps...but still, he's their +head.' +</p> + +<p> +'Why so?' +</p> + +<p> +'Because--he's the eldest! Of course, the younger ones must obey!' Here +Yermolaï, in reference to younger brothers as a class, expressed himself +with a vigour quite unsuitable for print. +</p> + +<p> +'I'll fetch him. He's a simple fellow. With him you can't fail to come +to terms.' +</p> + +<p> +While Yermolaï went after his 'simple fellow' the idea occurred to me +that it might be better for me to drive into Tula myself. In the first +place, taught by experience, I had no very great confidence in Yermolaï: +I had once sent him to the town for purchases; he had promised to get +through all my commissions in one day, and was gone a whole week, drank +up all the money, and came back on foot, though he had set off in my +racing droshky. And, secondly, I had an acquaintance in Tula, a +horsedealer; I might buy a horse off him to take the place of the +disabled shaft-horse. +</p> + +<p> +'The thing's decided!' I thought; 'I'll drive over myself; I can sleep +just as well on the road--luckily, the coach is comfortable.' +</p> + +<p> +'I've brought him!' cried Yermolaï, rushing into the hut a quarter of an +hour later. He was followed by a tall peasant in a white shirt, blue +breeches, and bast shoes, with white eyebrows and short-sighted eyes, a +wedge-shaped red beard, a long swollen nose, and a gaping mouth. He +certainly did look 'simple.' +</p> + +<p> +'Here, your honour,' observed Yermolaï, 'he has horses--and he's +willing.' +</p> + +<p> +'So be, surely, I'... the peasant began hesitatingly in a rather hoarse +voice, shaking his thin wisps of hair, and drumming with his fingers on +the band of the cap he held in his hands.... 'Surely, I....' +</p> + +<p> +'What's your name?' I inquired. +</p> + +<p> +The peasant looked down and seemed to think deeply. 'My name?' +</p> + +<p> +'Yes; what are you called?' +</p> + +<p> +'Why my name 'ull be--Filofey.' +</p> + +<p> +'Well, then, friend Filofey; I hear you have horses. Bring a team of +three here--we'll put them in my coach--it's a light one--and you drive +me in to Tula. There's a moon now at night; it's light, and it's cool +for driving. What sort of a road have you here?' +</p> + +<p> +'The road? There's naught amiss with the road. To the main road it will +be sixteen miles--not more.... There's one little place... a bit +awkward; but naught amiss else.' +</p> + +<p> +'What sort of little place is it that's awkward?' +</p> + +<p> +'Well, we'll have to cross the river by the ford.' +</p> + +<p> +'But are you thinking of going to Tula yourself?' inquired Yermolaï. +</p> + +<p> +'Yes.' +</p> + +<p> +'Oh!' commented my faithful servant with a shake of his head. 'Oh-oh!' +he repeated; then he spat on the floor and walked out of the room. +</p> + +<p> +The expedition to Tula obviously no longer presented any features of +interest to him; it had become for him a dull and unattractive business. +</p> + +<p> +'Do you know the road well?' I said, addressing Filofey. +</p> + +<p> +'Surely, we know the road! Only, so to say, please your honour, can't... +so on the sudden, so to say...' +</p> + +<p> +It appeared that Yermolaï, on engaging Filofey, had stated that he could +be sure that, fool as he was, he'd be paid... and nothing more! +Filofey, fool as he was--in Yermolaï's words--was not satisfied with +this statement alone. He demanded, of me fifty roubles--an exorbitant +price; I offered him ten--a low price. We fell to haggling; Filofey at +first was stubborn; then he began to come down, but slowly. Yermolaï +entering for an instant began assuring me, 'that fool--('He's fond of +the word, seemingly!' Filofey remarked in a low voice)--'that fool can't +reckon money at all,' and reminded me how twenty years ago a posting +tavern established by my mother at the crossing of two high-roads came +to complete grief from the fact that the old house-serf who was put +there to manage it positively did not understand reckoning money, but +valued sums simply by the number of coins--in fact, gave silver coins in +change for copper, though he would swear furiously all the time. +</p> + +<p> +'Ugh, you Filofey! you're a regular Filofey!' Yermolaï jeered at +last--and he went out, slamming the door angrily. +</p> + +<p> +Filofey made him no reply, as though admitting that to be called Filofey +was--as a fact--not very clever of him, and that a man might fairly be +reproached for such a name, though really it was the village priest was +to blame in the matter for not having done better by him at his +christening. +</p> + +<p> +At last we agreed, however, on the sum of twenty roubles. He went off +for the horses, and an hour later brought five for me to choose from. +The horses turned out to be fairly good, though their manes and tails +were tangled, and their bellies round and taut as drums. With Filofey +came two of his brothers, not in the least like him. Little, black-eyed, +sharp-nosed fellows, they certainly produced the impression of 'smart +chaps'; they talked a great deal, very fast--'clacked away,' as Yermolaï +expressed it--but obeyed the elder brother. +</p> + +<p> +They dragged the coach out of the shed and were busy about it and the +horses for an hour and a half; first they let out the traces, which were +of cord, then pulled them too tight again! Both brothers were very much +set on harnessing the 'roan' in the shafts, because 'him can do best +going down-hill'; but Filofey decided for 'the shaggy one.' So the +shaggy one was put in the shafts accordingly. +</p> + +<p> +They heaped the coach up with hay, put the collar off the lame +shaft-horse under the seat, in case we might want to fit it on to the +horse to be bought at Tula.... Filofey, who had managed to run home and +come back in a long, white, loose, ancestral overcoat, a high sugar-loaf +cap, and tarred boots, clambered triumphantly up on to the box. I took +my seat, looking at my watch: it was a quarter past ten. Yermolaï did +not even say good-bye to me--he was engaged in beating his +Valetka--Filofey tugged at the reins, and shouted in a thin, thin voice: +'Hey! you little ones!' +</p> + +<p> +His brothers skipped away on both sides, lashed the trace-horses under +the belly, and the coach started, turned out of the gates into the +street, the shaggy one tried to turn off towards his own home, but +Filofey brought him to reason with a few strokes of the whip, and +behold! we were already out of the village, and rolling along a fairly +even road, between close-growing bushes of thick hazels. +</p> + +<p> +It was a still, glorious night, the very nicest for driving. A breeze +rustled now and then in the bushes, set the twigs swinging and died away +again; in the sky could be seen motionless, silvery clouds; the moon +stood high and threw a bright light on all around. I stretched myself on +the hay, and was just beginning to doze... but I remembered the +'awkward place,' and started up. +</p> + +<p> +'I say, Filofey, is it far to the ford?' +</p> + +<p> +'To the ford? It'll be near upon seven miles.' +</p> + +<p> +'Seven miles!' I mused. 'We shan't get there for another hour. I can +have a nap meanwhile. Filofey, do you know the road well?' I asked +again. +</p> + +<p> +'Surely; how could I fail to know it? It's not the first time I've +driven.' +</p> + +<p> +He said something more, but I had ceased to listen.... I was asleep. +</p> + +<p> +I was awakened not, as often happens, by my own intention of waking in +exactly an hour, but by a sort of strange, though faint, lapping, +gurgling sound at my very ear. I raised my head.... +</p> + +<p> +Wonderful to relate! I was lying in the coach as before, but all round +the coach, half a foot, not more, from its edge, a sheet of water lay +shining in the moonlight, broken up into tiny, distinct, quivering +eddies. I looked in front. On the box, with back bowed and head bent, +Filofey was sitting like a statue, and a little further on, above the +rippling water, I saw the curved arch of the yoke, and the horses' heads +and backs. And everything as motionless, as noiseless, as though in some +enchanted realm, in a dream--a dream of fairyland.... 'What does it +mean?' I looked back from under the hood of the coach.... 'Why, we are +in the middle of the river!'... the bank was thirty paces from us. +</p> + +<p> +'Filofey!' I cried. +</p> + +<p> +'What?' he answered. +</p> + +<p> +'What, indeed! Upon my word! Where are we?' +</p> + +<p> +'In the river.' +</p> + +<p> +'I see we're in the river. But, like this, we shall be drowned directly. +Is this how you cross the ford? Eh? Why, you're asleep, Filofey! Answer, +do!' +</p> + +<p> +'I've made a little mistake,' observed my guide; +</p> + +<p> +'I've gone to one side, a bit wrong, but now we've got to wait a bit.' +</p> + +<p> +'Got to wait a bit? What ever are we going to wait for?' +</p> + +<p> +'Well, we must let the shaggy one look about him; which way he turns his +head, that way we've got to go.' +</p> + +<p> +I raised myself on the hay. The shaft-horse's head stood quite +motionless. Above the head one could only see in the bright moonlight +one ear slightly twitching backwards and forwards. +</p> + +<p> +'Why, he's asleep too, your shaggy one!' +</p> + +<p> +'No,' responded Filofey,' 'he's sniffing the water now.' +</p> + +<p> +And everything was still again; there was only the faint gurgle of the +water as before. I sank into a state of torpor. +</p> + +<p> +Moonlight, and night, and the river, and we in it.... +</p> + +<p> +'What is that croaking noise?' I asked Filofey. +</p> + +<p> +'That? Ducks in the reeds... or else snakes.' +</p> + +<p> +All of a sudden the head of the shaft-horse shook, his ears pricked up; +he gave a snort, began to move. 'Ho-ho, ho-ho-o!' Filofey began suddenly +bawling at the top of his voice; he sat up and brandished the whip. The +coach was at once tugged away from where it had stuck, it plunged +forward, cleaving the waters of the river, and moved along, swaying and +lurching from side to side.... At first it seemed to me we were sinking, +getting deeper; however, after two or three tugs and jolts, the expanse +of water seemed suddenly lower.... It got lower and lower, the coach +seemed to grow up out of it, and now the wheels and the horses' tails +could be seen, and now stirring with a mighty splashing of big drops, +scattering showers of diamonds--no, not diamonds--sapphires in the dull +brilliance of the moon, the horses with a spirited pull all together +drew us on to the sandy bank and trotted along the road to the +hill-side, their shining white legs flashing in rivalry. +</p> + +<p> +'What will Filofey say now?' was the thought that glanced through my +mind; 'you see I was right!' or something of that sort. But he said +nothing. So I too did not think it necessary to reproach him for +carelessness, and lying down in the hay, I tried again to go to sleep. +</p> + +<p> +But I could not go to sleep, not because I was not tired from hunting, +and not because the exciting experience I had just been through had +dispelled my sleepiness: it was that we were driving through such very +beautiful country. There were liberal, wide-stretching, grassy riverside +meadows, with a multitude of small pools, little lakes, rivulets, creeks +overgrown at the ends with branches and osiers--a regular Russian scene, +such as Russians love, like the scenes amid which the heroes of our old +legends rode out to shoot white swans and grey ducks. The road we were +driven along wound in a yellowish ribbon, the horses ran lightly--and I +could not close my eyes. I was admiring! And it all floated by, softened +into harmony under the kindly light of the moon. Filofey--he too was +touched by it. +</p> + +<p> +'Those meadows are called St. Yegor's,' he said, turning to me. 'And +beyond them come the Grand Duke's; there are no other meadows like them +in all Russia.... Ah, it's lovely!' The shaft-horse snorted and shook +itself.... 'God bless you,' commented Filofey gravely in an undertone. +'How lovely!' he repeated with a sigh; then he gave a long sort of +grunt. 'There, mowing time's just upon us, and think what hay they'll +rake up there!--regular mountains!--And there are lots of fish in the +creeks. Such bream!' he added in a sing-song voice. 'In one word, life's +sweet--one doesn't want to die.' +</p> + +<p> +He suddenly raised his hand. +</p> + +<p> +'Hullo! look-ee! over the lake... is it a crane standing there? Can it +be fishing at night? Bless me! it's a branch, not a crane. Well, that +was a mistake! But the moon is always so deceptive.' +</p> + +<p> +So we drove on and on.... But now the end of the meadows had been +reached, little copses and ploughed fields came into view; a little +village flashed with two or three lights on one side--it was only four +miles now to the main road. I fell asleep. +</p> + +<p> +Again I did not wake up of my own accord. This time I was roused by the +voice of Filofey. +</p> + +<p> +'Master!... hey, master!' +</p> + +<p> +I sat up. The coach was standing still on level ground in the very +middle of the high-road. Filofey, who had turned round on the box, so as +to face me, with wide-open eyes (I was positively surprised at them; I +couldn't have imagined he had such large eyes), was whispering with +mysterious significance: +</p> + +<p> +'A rattle!... a rattle of wheels!' +</p> + +<p> +'What do you say?' +</p> + +<p> +'I say, there's a rattling! Bend down and listen. Do you hear it?' +</p> + +<p> +I put my head out of the coach, held my breath, and did catch, somewhere +in the distance, far behind us, a faint broken sound, as of wheels +rolling. +</p> + +<p> +'Do you hear it?' repeated Filofey. +</p> + +<p> +'Well, yes,' I answered. 'Some vehicle is coming.' +</p> + +<p> +'Oh, you don't hear... shoo! The tambourines... and whistling too....Do +you hear? Take off your cap... you will hear better.' +</p> + +<p> +I didn't take off my cap, but I listened. +</p> + +<p> +'Well, yes... perhaps. But what of it?' +</p> + +<p> +Filofey turned round facing the horses. +</p> + +<p> +'It's a cart coming... lightly; iron-rimmed wheels,' he observed, and +he took up the reins. 'It's wicked folks coming, master; hereabouts, you +know, near Tula, they play a good many tricks.' +</p> + +<p> +'What nonsense! What makes you suppose it's sure to be wicked people?' +</p> + +<p> +'I speak the truth... with tambourines... and in an empty cart.... Who +should it be?' +</p> + +<p> +'Well... is it much further to Tula?' +</p> + +<p> +'There's twelve miles further to go, and not a habitation here.' +</p> + +<p> +'Well, then, get on quicker; it's no good lingering.' +</p> + +<p> +Filofey brandished the whip, and the coach rolled on again. +</p> + +<p> +Though I did not put much faith in Filofey, I could not go to sleep. +'What if it really is so?' A disagreeable sensation began to stir in me. +I sat up in the coach--till then I had lain down--and began looking in +all directions. While I had been asleep, a slight fog had come over, not +the earth, but the sky; it stood high, the moon hung a whitish patch in +it, as though in smoke. Everything had grown dim and blended together, +though it was clearer near the ground. Around us flat, dreary country; +fields, nothing but fields--here and there bushes and ravines--and again +fields, mostly fallow, with scanty, dusty grass. A wilderness... +deathlike! If only a quail had called! +</p> + +<p> +We drove on for half an hour. Filofey kept constantly cracking his whip +and clicking with his lips, but neither he nor I uttered a word. So we +mounted the hillside.... Filofey pulled up the horses, and promptly said +again: +</p> + +<p> +'It is a rattle of wheels, master; yes, it is!' +</p> + +<p> +I poked my head out of the coach again, but I might have stayed under +the cover of the hood, so distinctly, though still from a distance, the +sound reached me of cart-wheels, men whistling, the jingling of +tambourines, and even the thud of horses' hoofs; I even fancied I could +hear singing and laughter. The wind, it is true, was blowing from there, +but there was no doubt that the unknown travellers were a good mile, +perhaps two, nearer us. Filofey and I looked at one another; he only +gave his hat a tweak forward from behind, and at once, bending over the +reins, fell to whipping up the horses. They set off at a gallop, but +they could not gallop for long, and fell back into a trot again. Filofey +continued to whip them. We must get away! +</p> + +<p> +I can't account for the fact that, though I had not at first shared +Filofey's apprehensions, about this time I suddenly gained the +conviction that we really were being followed by highwaymen.... I had +heard nothing new: the same tambourines, the same rattle of a cart +without a load, the same intermittent whistling, the same confused +uproar.... But now I had no doubt. Filofey could not have made a +mistake! +</p> + +<p> +And now twenty minutes more had gone by.... During the last of these +twenty minutes, even through the clatter and rumble of our own carriage, +we could hear another clatter and another rumbling.... +</p> + +<p> +'Stop, Filofey,' I said; 'it's no use--the end's the same!' +</p> + +<p> +Filofey uttered a faint-hearted 'wo'! The horses instantaneously +stopped, as though delighted at the chance of resting! +</p> + +<p> +Mercy upon us! the tambourines were simply booming away just behind our +backs, the cart was rattling and creaking, the men were whistling, +shouting, and singing, the horses were snorting and thumping on the +ground with their hoofs.... They had overtaken us! +</p> + +<p> +'Bad luck,' Filofey commented, in an emphatic undertone; and, clicking +to the horses irresolutely, he began to urge them on again. But at that +very instant there was a sort of sudden rush and whizz, and a very big, +wide cart, harnessed with three lean horses, cut sharply at a rush up to +us, galloped in front, and at once fell into a walking pace, blocking up +the road. +</p> + +<p> +'A regular brigand's trick!' murmured Filofey. I must own I felt a cold +chill at my heart.... I fell to staring before me with strained +attention in the half-darkness of the misty moonlight. In the cart in +front of us were--half-lying, half-sitting--six men in shirts, and in +unbuttoned rough overcoats; two of them had no caps on; huge feet in +boots were swinging and hanging over the cart-rail, arms were rising and +falling helter-skelter... bodies were jolting backwards and +forwards.... It was quite clear--a drunken party. Some were bawling at +random; one was whistling very correctly and shrilly, another was +swearing; on the driver's seat sat a sort of giant in a cape, driving. +They went at a walking pace, as' though paying no attention to us. +</p> + +<p> +What was to be done? We followed them also at a walking pace... we +could do nothing else. +</p> + +<p> +For a quarter of a mile we moved along in this manner. The suspense was +torturing.... To protect, to defend ourselves, was out of the question! +There were six of them; and I hadn't even a stick! Should we turn back? +But they would catch us up directly. I remembered the line of Zhukovsky +(in the passage where he speaks of the murder of field-marshal +Kamensky): +</p> + +<p class="poem"> + 'The scoundrel highwayman's vile axe!...'<br /> +</p> + +<p><br /></p> + +<p> +Or else--strangling with filthy cord... flung into a ditch...there to +choke and struggle like a hare in a trap.... +</p> + +<p> +Ugh, it was horrid! +</p> + +<p> +And they, as before, went on at a walking pace, taking no notice of us. +</p> + +<p> +'Filofey!' I whispered,'just try, keep more to the right; see if you can +get by.' +</p> + +<p> +Filofey tried--kept to the right... but they promptly kept to the right +too... It was impossible to get by. +</p> + +<p> +Filofey made another effort; he kept to the left.... But there, again, +they did not let him pass the cart. They even laughed aloud. That meant +that they wouldn't let us pass. +</p> + +<p> +'Then they are a bad lot,' Filofey whispered to me over his shoulder. +</p> + +<p> +'But what are they waiting for?' I inquired, also in a whisper. +</p> + +<p> +'To reach the bridge--over there in front--in the hollow--above the +stream.... They'll do for us there! That's always their way... by +bridges. It's a clear case for us, master.' He added with a sigh: +'They'll hardly let us go alive; for the great thing for them is to keep +it all dark. I'm sorry for one thing, master; my horses are lost, and my +brothers won't get them!' +</p> + +<p> +I should have been surprised at the time that Filofey could still +trouble about his horses at such a moment; but, I must confess, I had no +thoughts for him.... 'Will they really kill me?' I kept repeating +mentally. 'Why should they? I'll give them everything I have....' +</p> + +<p> +And the bridge was getting nearer and nearer; it could be more and more +clearly seen. +</p> + +<p> +Suddenly a sharp whoop was heard; the cart before us, as it were, flew +ahead, dashed along, and reaching the bridge, at once stopped +stock-still a little on one side of the road. My heart fairly sank like +lead. +</p> + +<p> +'Ah, brother Filofey,' I said, 'we are going to our death. Forgive me +for bringing you to ruin.' +</p> + +<p> +'As though it were your fault, master! There's no escaping one's fate! +Come, Shaggy, my trusty little horse,' Filofey addressed the +shaft-horse; 'step on, brother! Do your last bit of service! It's all +the same...' +</p> + +<p> +And he urged his horses into a trot We began to get near the +bridge--near that motionless, menacing cart.... In it everything was +silent, as though on purpose. Not a single halloo! It was the stillness +of the pike or the hawk, of every beast of prey, as its victim +approaches. And now we were level with the cart.... Suddenly the giant +in the cape sprang out of the cart, and came straight towards us! +</p> + +<p> +He said nothing to Filofey, but the latter, of his own accord, tugged at +the reins.... The coach stopped. The giant laid both arms on the +carriage door, and bending forward his shaggy head with a grin, he +uttered the following speech in a soft, even voice, with the accent of a +factory hand: +</p> + +<p> +'Honoured sir, we are coming from an honest feast--from a wedding; we've +been marrying one of our fine fellows--that is, we've put him to bed; +we're all young lads, reckless chaps--there's been a good deal of +drinking, and nothing to sober us; so wouldn't your honour be so good as +to favour us, the least little, just for a dram of brandy for our mate? +We'd drink to your health, and remember your worship; but if you won't +be gracious to us--well, we beg you not to be angry!' +</p> + +<p> +'What's the meaning of this?' I thought.... 'A joke?... a jeer?' +</p> + +<p> +The giant continued to stand with bent head. At that very instant the +moon emerged from the fog and lighted up his face. There was a grin on +the face, in the eyes, and on the lips. But there was nothing +threatening to be seen in it... only it seemed, as it were, all on the +alert... and the teeth were so white and large.... +</p> + +<p> +'I shall be pleased... take this...' I said hurriedly, and pulling my +purse out of my pocket, I took out two silver roubles--at that time +silver was still circulating in Russia--'here, if that's enough?' +</p> + +<p> +'Much obliged!' bawled the giant, in military fashion; and his fat +fingers in a flash snatched from me--not the whole purse--but only the +two roubles: 'much obliged!' He shook his hair back, and ran up to the +cart. +</p> + +<p> +'Lads!' he shouted, 'the gentleman makes us a present of two silver +roubles!' They all began, as it were, gabbling at once.... The giant +rolled up on to the driver's seat.... +</p> + +<p> +'Good luck to you, master!' +</p> + +<p> +And that was the last we saw of them. The horses dashed on, the cart +rumbled up the hill; once more it stood out on the dark line separating +the earth from the sky, went down, and vanished. +</p> + +<p> +And now the rattle of the wheels, the shouts and tambourines, could not +be heard.... +</p> + +<p> +There was a death-like silence. +</p> + +<p class="t3"> + * * * * *<br /> +</p> + +<p> +Filofey and I could not recover ourselves all at once. +</p> + +<p> +'Ah, you're a merry fellow!' he commented at last, and taking off his +hat he began crossing himself. 'Fond of a joke, on my word,' he added, +and he turned to me, beaming all over. 'But he must be a capital +fellow--on my word! Now, now, now, little ones, look alive! You're safe! +We are all safe! It was he who wouldn't let us get by; it was he who +drove the horses. What a chap for a joke! Now, now! get on, in God's +name!' +</p> + +<p> +I did not speak, but I felt happy too. 'We are safe!' I repeated to +myself, and lay down on the hay. 'We've got off cheap!' +</p> + +<p> +I even felt rather ashamed that I had remembered that line of +Zhukovsky's. +</p> + +<p> +Suddenly an idea occurred to me. +</p> + +<p> +'Filofey!' +</p> + +<p> +'What is it?' +</p> + +<p> +'Are you married?' +</p> + +<p> +'Yes.' +</p> + +<p> +'And have you children?' +</p> + +<p> +'Yes.' +</p> + +<p> +'How was it you didn't think of them? You were sorry for your horses: +weren't you sorry for your wife and children?' +</p> + +<p> +'Why be sorry for them? They weren't going to fall into the hands of +thieves, you know. But I kept them in my mind all the while, and I do +now... surely.' Filofey paused.... 'May be... it was for their sake +Almighty God had mercy on us.' +</p> + +<p> +'But if they weren't highwaymen?' +</p> + +<p> +'How can we tell? Can one creep into the soul of another? Another's +soul, we know, is a dark place. But, with the thought of God in the +heart, things are always better.... No, no!... I'd my family all the +time.... Gee... gee-up! little ones, in God's name!' +</p> + +<p> +It was already almost daylight; we began to drive into Tula. I was +lying, dreamy and half-asleep. +</p> + +<p> +'Master,' Filofey said to me suddenly, 'look: there they're stopping at +the tavern... their cart.' +</p> + +<p> +I raised my head... there they were, and their cart and horses. In the +doorway of the drinking-house there suddenly appeared our friend, the +giant in the cape. 'Sir!' he shouted, waving his cap, 'we're drinking +your health!--Hey, coachman,' he added, wagging his head at Filofey; +'you were a bit scared, I shouldn't wonder, hey?' +</p> + +<p> +'A merry fellow!' observed Filofey when we had driven nearly fifty yards +from the tavern. +</p> + +<p> +We got into Tula at last: I bought shot, and while I was about it, tea +and spirits, and even got a horse from the horse-dealer. +</p> + +<p> +At mid-day we set off home again. As we drove by the place where we +first heard the rattle of the cart behind us, Filofey, who, having had +something to drink at Tula, turned out to be very talkative--he even +began telling me fairy-tales--as he passed the place, suddenly burst out +laughing. +</p> + +<p> +'Do you remember, master, how I kept saying to you, "A rattle... a +rattle of wheels," I said!' +</p> + +<p> +He waved his hand several times. This expression struck him as most +amusing. The same evening we got back to his village. +</p> + +<p> +I related the adventure that had befallen us to Yermolaï. Being sober, +he expressed no sympathy; he only gave a grunt--whether of approval or +reproach, I imagine he did not know himself. But two days later he +informed me, with great satisfaction, that the very night Filofey and I +had been driving to Tula, and on the very road, a merchant had been +robbed and murdered. I did not at first put much faith in this, but +later on I was obliged to believe it: it was confirmed by the police +captain, who came galloping over in consequence. +</p> + +<p> +Was not that perhaps the 'wedding' our brave spirits were returning +from?--wasn't that the 'fine fellow' they had 'put to bed,' in the words +of the jocose giant? I stayed five days longer in Filofey's village. +Whenever I meet him I always say to him: 'A rattle of wheels? Eh?' +</p> + +<p> +'A merry fellow!' he always answers, and bursts out laughing. +</p> + +<p><br /><br /><br /></p> + +<h3> +<a id="chap25"></a> +EPILOGUE +</h3> + +<h3> +THE FOREST AND THE STEPPE +</h3> + +<p class="poem"> + 'And slowly something began to draw him,<br /> + Back to the country, to the garden dark,<br /> + Where lime-trees are so huge, so full of shade,<br /> + And lilies of the valley, sweet as maids,<br /> + Where rounded willows o'er the water's edge<br /> + Lean from the dyke in rows, and where the oak<br /> + Sturdily grows above the sturdy field,<br /> + Amid the smell of hemp and nettles rank...<br /> + There, there, in meadows stretching wide,<br /> + Where rich and black as velvet is the earth,<br /> + Where the sweet rye, far as the eye can see,<br /> + Moves noiselessly in tender, billowing waves,<br /> + And where the heavy golden light is shed<br /> + From out of rounded, white, transparent clouds:<br /> + There it is good....'<br /> +</p> + +<p class="poem"> + <i>(From a poem, devoted to the flames.)</i><br /> +</p> + +<p><br /></p> + +<p> +The reader is, very likely, already weary of my sketches; I hasten to +reassure him by promising to confine myself to the fragments already +printed; but I cannot refrain from saying a few words at parting about a +sportman's life. +</p> + +<p> +Hunting with a dog and a gun is delightful in itself, <i>für sich</i>, +as they used to say in old days; but let us suppose you were not born a +sportsman, but are fond of nature all the same; you cannot then help +envying us sportsmen.... Listen. +</p> + +<p> +Do you know, for instance, the delight of setting off before daybreak in +spring? You come out on to the steps.... In the dark grey sky stars are +twinkling here and there; a damp breeze in faint gusts flies to meet you +now and then; there is heard the secret, vague whispering of the night; +the trees faintly rustle, wrapt in darkness. And now they pull the hood +over the cart, and lay a box with the samovar at your feet. The +trace-horses move restlessly, snort, and daintily paw the ground; a +couple of white geese, only just awake, waddle slowly and silently +across the road. On the other side of the hedge, in the garden, the +watchman is snoring peacefully; every sound seems to stand still in the +frozen air--suspended, not moving. You take your seat; the horses start +at once; the cart rolls off with a loud rumble.... You drive--drive past +the church, downhill to the right, across the dyke.... The pond is just +beginning to be covered with mist. You are rather chilly; you cover your +face with the collar of your fur cloak; you doze. The horse's hoofs +splash sonorously through the puddles; the coachman begins to whistle. +But by now you have driven over three miles... the rim of the sky +flushes crimson; the jackdaws are heard, fluttering clumsily in the +birch-trees; sparrows are twittering about the dark hayricks. The air is +clearer, the road more distinct, the sky brightens, the clouds look +whiter, and the fields look greener. In the huts there is the red light +of flaming chips; from behind gates comes the sound of sleepy voices. +And meanwhile the glow of dawn is beginning; already streaks of gold are +stretching across the sky; mists are gathering in clouds over the +ravines; the larks are singing musically; the breeze that ushers in the +dawn is blowing; and slowly the purple sun floats upward. There is a +perfect flood of light; your heart is fluttering like a bird. Everything +is fresh, gay, delightful! One can see a long way all round. That way, +beyond the copse, a village; there, further, another, with a white +church, and there a birch-wood on the hill; behind it the marsh, for +which you are bound.... Quicker, horses, quicker! Forward at a good +trot!... There are three miles to go--not more. The sun mounts swiftly +higher; the sky is clear.... It will be a glorious day. A herd of cattle +comes straggling from the village to meet us. You go up the hill.... +What a view! The river winds for ten miles, dimly blue through the mist; +beyond it meadows of watery green; beyond the meadows sloping hills; in +the distance the plovers are wheeling with loud cries above the marsh; +through the moist brilliance suffused in the air the distance stands out +clearly... not as in the summer. How freely one drinks in the air, how +quickly the limbs move, how strong is the whole man, clasped in the +fresh breath of spring!... +</p> + +<p> +And a summer morning--a morning in July! Who but the sportsman knows how +soothing it is to wander at daybreak among the underwoods? The print of +your feet lies in a green line on the grass, white with dew. You part +the drenched bushes; you are met by a rush of the warm fragrance stored +up in the night; the air is saturated with the fresh bitterness of +wormwood, the honey sweetness of buckwheat and clover; in the distance +an oak wood stands like a wall, and glows and glistens in the sun; it is +still fresh, but already the approach of heat is felt. The head is faint +and dizzy from the excess of sweet scents. The copse stretches on +endlessly.... Only in places there are yellow glimpses in the distance +of ripening rye, and narrow streaks of red buckwheat. Then there is the +creak of cart-wheels; a peasant makes his way among the bushes at a +walking-pace, and sets his horse in the shade before the heat of the +day.... You greet him, and turn away; the musical swish of the scythe is +heard behind you. The sun rises higher and higher. The grass is speedily +dry. And now it is quite sultry. One hour passes another.... The sky +grows dark over the horizon; the still air is baked with piercing +heat.... 'Where can one get a drink here, brother?' you inquire of the +mower. 'Yonder, in the ravine's a well.' Through the thick hazel-bushes, +tangled by the clinging grass, you drop down to the bottom of the +ravine. Right under the cliff a little spring is hidden; an oak bush +greedily spreads out its twigs like great fingers over the water; great +silvery bubbles rise trembling from the bottom, covered with fine +velvety moss. You fling yourself on the ground, you drink, but you are +too lazy to stir. You are in the shade, you drink in the damp fragrance, +you take your ease, while the bushes face you, glowing, and, as it were, +turning yellow in the sun. But what is that? There is a sudden flying +gust of wind; the air is astir all about you: was not that thunder? Is +it the heat thickening? Is a storm coming on?... And now there is a +faint flash of lightning.... Ah, this is a storm! The sun is still +blazing; you can still go on hunting. But the storm-cloud grows; its +front edge, drawn out like a long sleeve, bends over into an arch. The +grass, the bushes, everything around grows dark.... Make haste! over +there you think you catch sight of a hay barn... make haste!... You run +there, go in.... What rain! What flashes of lightning! The water drips +in through some hole in the thatch-roof on to the sweet-smelling hay.... +But now the sun is shining bright again. The storm is over; you come +out. My God, the joyous sparkle of everything! the fresh, limpid air, +the scent of raspberries and mushrooms! And then the evening comes on. +There is the blaze of fire glowing and covering half the sky. The sun +sets: the air near has a peculiar transparency as of crystal; over the +distance lies a soft, warm-looking haze; with the dew a crimson light is +shed on the fields, lately plunged in floods of limpid gold; from trees +and bushes and high stacks of hay run long shadows.... The sun has set: +a star gleams and quivers in the fiery sea of the sunset... and now it +pales; the sky grows blue; the separate shadows vanish; the air is +plunged in darkness. It is time to turn homewards to the village, to the +hut, where you will stay the night. Shouldering your gun, you move +briskly, in spite of fatigue.... Meanwhile, the night comes on: now you +cannot see twenty paces from you; the dogs show faintly white in the +dark. Over there, above the black bushes, there is a vague brightness on +the horizon.... What is it?--a fire?... No, it is the moon rising. And +away below, to the right, the village lights are twinkling already.... +And here at last is your hut. Through the tiny window you see a table, +with a white cloth, a candle burning, supper.... +</p> + +<p> +Another time you order the racing droshky to be got out, and set off to +the forest to shoot woodcock. It is pleasant making your way along the +narrow path between two high walls of rye. The ears softly strike you in +the face; the cornflowers cling round your legs; the quails call around; +the horse moves along at a lazy trot. And here is the forest, all shade +and silence. Graceful aspens rustle high above you; the long-hanging +branches of the birches scarcely stir; a mighty oak stands like a +champion beside a lovely lime-tree. You go along the green path, +streaked with shade; great yellow flies stay suspended, motionless, in +the sunny air, and suddenly dart away; midges hover in a cloud, bright +in the shade, dark in the sun; the birds are singing peacefully; the +golden little voice of the warbler sings of innocent, babbling +joyousness, in sweet accord with the scent of the lilies of the valley. +Further, further, deeper into the forest... the forest grows more +dense.... An unutterable stillness falls upon the soul within; without, +too, all is still and dreamy. But now a wind has sprung up, and the +tree-tops are booming like falling waves. Here and there, through last +year's brown leaves, grow tall grasses; funguses stand apart under their +wide-brimmed hats. All at once a hare skips out; the dog scurries after +it with a resounding bark.... +</p> + +<p> +And how fair is this same forest in late autumn, when the snipe are on +the wing! They do not keep in the heart of the forest; one must look for +them along the outskirts. There is no wind, and no sun; no light, no +shade, no movement, no sound: the autumn perfume, like the perfume of +wine, is diffused in the soft air; a delicate haze hangs over the yellow +fields in the distance. The still sky is a peacefully untroubled white +through the bare brown branches; in parts, on the limes, hang the last +golden leaves. The damp earth is elastic under your feet; the high dry +blades of grass do not stir; long threads lie shining on the blanched +turf, white with dew. You breathe tranquilly; but there is a strange +tremor in the soul. You walk along the forest's edge, look after your +dog, and meanwhile loved forms, loved faces dead and living, come to +your mind; long, long slumbering impressions unexpectedly awaken; the +fancy darts off and soars like a bird; and all moves so clearly and +stands out before your eyes. The heart at one time throbs and beats, +plunging passionately forward; at another it is drowned beyond recall in +memories. Your whole life, as it were, unrolls lightly and rapidly +before you: a man at such times possesses all his past, all his feelings +and his powers--all his soul; and there is nothing around to hinder +him--no sun, no wind, no sound.... +</p> + +<p> +And a clear, rather cold autumn day, with a frost in the morning, when +the birch, all golden like some tree in a fairy tale, stands out +picturesquely against the pale blue sky; when the sun, standing low in +the sky, does not warm, but shines more brightly than in summer; the +small aspen copse is all a-sparkle through and through, as though it +were glad and at ease in its nakedness; the hoar-frost is still white at +the bottom of the hollows; while a fresh wind softly stirs up and drives +before it the falling, crumpled leaves; when blue ripples whisk gladly +along the river, lifting rhythmically the heedless geese and ducks; in +the distance the mill creaks, half-hidden by the willows; and with +changing colours in the clear air the pigeons wheel in swift circles +above it.... +</p> + +<p> +Sweet, too, are dull days in summer, though the sportsmen do not like +them. On such days one can't shoot the bird that flutters up from under +your very feet, and vanishes at once in the whitish dark of the hanging +fog. But how peaceful, how unutterably peaceful it is everywhere! +Everything is awake, and everything is hushed. You pass by a tree: it +does not stir a leaf; it is musing in repose. Through the thin steamy +mist, evenly diffused in the air, there is a long streak of black before +you. You take it for a neighbouring copse close at hand; you go up--the +copse is transformed into a high row of wormwood in the boundary-ditch. +Above you, around you, on all sides--mist.... But now a breeze is +faintly astir; a patch of pale-blue sky peeps dimly out; through the +thinning, as it were, smoky mist, a ray of golden yellow sunshine breaks +out suddenly, flows in a long stream, strikes on the fields and in the +copse--and now everything is overcast again. For long this struggle is +drawn out, but how unutterably brilliant and magnificent the day becomes +when at last light triumphs and the last waves of the warmed mist here +unroll and are drawn out over the plains, there wind away and vanish +into the deep, tenderly shining heights.... +</p> + +<p> +Again you set off into outlying country, to the steppe. For some ten +miles you make your way over cross-roads, and here at last is the +high-road. Past endless trains of waggons, past wayside taverns, with +the hissing samovar under a shed, wide-open gates and a well, from one +hamlet to another; across endless fields, alongside green hempfields, a +long, long time you drive. The magpies flutter from willow to willow; +peasant women with long rakes in their hands wander in the fields; a man +in a threadbare nankin overcoat, with a wicker pannier over his +shoulder, trudges along with weary step; a heavy country coach, +harnessed with six tall, broken-winded horses, rolls to meet you. The +corner of a cushion is sticking out of a window, and on a sack up +behind, hanging on to a string, perches a groom in a fur-cloak, splashed +with mud to his very eyebrows. And here is the little district town with +its crooked little wooden houses, its endless fences, its empty stone +shops, its old-fashioned bridge over a deep ravine.... On, on!... The +steppe country is reached at last. You look from a hill-top: what a +view! Round low hills, tilled and sown to their very tops, are seen in +broad undulations; ravines, overgrown with bushes, wind coiling among +them; small copses are scattered like oblong islands; from village to +village run narrow paths; churches stand out white; between +willow-bushes glimmers a little river, in four places dammed up by +dykes; far off, in a field, in a line, an old manor-house, with its +outhouses, fruit-garden, and threshing-floor, huddles close up to a +small lake. But on, on you go. The hills are smaller and ever smaller; +there is scarcely a tree to be seen. Here it is at last--the boundless, +untrodden steppe! +</p> + +<p> +And on a winter day to walk over the high snowdrifts after hares; to +breathe the keen frosty air, while half-closing the eyes involuntarily +at the fine blinding sparkle of the soft snow; to admire the emerald sky +above the reddish forest!... And the first spring day when everything is +shining, and breaking up, when across the heavy streams, from the +melting snow, there is already the scent of the thawing earth; when on +the bare thawed places, under the slanting sunshine, the larks are +singing confidingly, and, with glad splash and roar, the torrents roll +from ravine to ravine.... +</p> + +<p> +But it is time to end. By the way, I have spoken of spring: in spring it +is easy to part; in spring even the happy are drawn away to the +distance.... Farewell, reader! I wish you unbroken prosperity. +</p> + +<p><br /><br /><br /><br /></p> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of A Sportsman's Sketches, by Ivan Turgenev + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A SPORTSMAN'S SKETCHES *** + +***** This file should be named 8744-h.htm or 8744-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/8/7/4/8744/ + +Produced by Jonathan Ingram, David Garcia, Charles Franks +and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team. + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will +be renamed. + +Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright +law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, +so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United +States without permission and without paying copyright +royalties. 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