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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/4761-0.txt b/4761-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..9b3595e --- /dev/null +++ b/4761-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,7723 @@ +The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Cossacks, by Leo Tolstoy + +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 +will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before +using this eBook. + +Title: The Cossacks + A Tale of 1852 + +Author: Leo Tolstoy + +Translators: Louise and Aylmer Maude + +Release Date: March 13, 2002 [eBook #4761] +[Most recently updated: May 7, 2023] + +Language: English + +Produced by: Steve Harris, Charles Franks and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team + +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE COSSACKS *** + + + + +THE COSSACKS + +A Tale of 1852 + +By Leo Tolstoy + + +Translated by Louise and Aylmer Maude + + + + +CONTENTS + + Chapter I + Chapter II + Chapter III + Chapter IV + Chapter V + Chapter VI + Chapter VII + Chapter VIII + Chapter IX + Chapter X + Chapter XI + Chapter XII + Chapter XIII + Chapter XIV + Chapter XV + Chapter XVI + Chapter XVII + Chapter XVIII + Chapter XIX + Chapter XX + Chapter XXI + Chapter XXII + Chapter XXIII + Chapter XXIV + Chapter XXV + Chapter XXVI + Chapter XXVII + Chapter XXVIII + Chapter XXIX + Chapter XXX + Chapter XXXI + Chapter XXXII + Chapter XXXIII + Chapter XXXIV + Chapter XXXV + Chapter XXXVI + Chapter XXXVII + Chapter XXXVIII + Chapter XXXIX + Chapter XL + Chapter XLI + Chapter XLII + + + + +Chapter I + + +All is quiet in Moscow. The squeak of wheels is seldom heard in the +snow-covered street. There are no lights left in the windows and the +street lamps have been extinguished. Only the sound of bells, borne +over the city from the church towers, suggests the approach of morning. +The streets are deserted. At rare intervals a night-cabman’s sledge +kneads up the snow and sand in the street as the driver makes his way +to another corner where he falls asleep while waiting for a fare. An +old woman passes by on her way to church, where a few wax candles burn +with a red light reflected on the gilt mountings of the icons. Workmen +are already getting up after the long winter night and going to their +work—but for the gentlefolk it is still evening. + +From a window in Chevalier’s Restaurant a light—illegal at that hour—is +still to be seen through a chink in the shutter. At the entrance a +carriage, a sledge, and a cabman’s sledge, stand close together with +their backs to the curbstone. A three-horse sledge from the +post-station is there also. A yard-porter muffled up and pinched with +cold is sheltering behind the corner of the house. + +“And what’s the good of all this jawing?” thinks the footman who sits +in the hall weary and haggard. “This always happens when I’m on duty.” +From the adjoining room are heard the voices of three young men, +sitting there at a table on which are wine and the remains of supper. +One, a rather plain, thin, neat little man, sits looking with tired +kindly eyes at his friend, who is about to start on a journey. Another, +a tall man, lies on a sofa beside a table on which are empty bottles, +and plays with his watch-key. A third, wearing a short, fur-lined coat, +is pacing up and down the room stopping now and then to crack an almond +between his strong, rather thick, but well-tended fingers. He keeps +smiling at something and his face and eyes are all aglow. He speaks +warmly and gesticulates, but evidently does not find the words he wants +and those that occur to him seem to him inadequate to express what has +risen to his heart. + +“Now I can speak out fully,” said the traveller. “I don’t want to +defend myself, but I should like you at least to understand me as I +understand myself, and not look at the matter superficially. You say I +have treated her badly,” he continued, addressing the man with the +kindly eyes who was watching him. + +“Yes, you are to blame,” said the latter, and his look seemed to +express still more kindliness and weariness. + +“I know why you say that,” rejoined the one who was leaving. “To be +loved is in your opinion as great a happiness as to love, and if a man +obtains it, it is enough for his whole life.” + +“Yes, quite enough, my dear fellow, more than enough!” confirmed the +plain little man, opening and shutting his eyes. + +“But why shouldn’t the man love too?” said the traveller thoughtfully, +looking at his friend with something like pity. “Why shouldn’t one +love? Because love doesn’t come ... No, to be beloved is a misfortune. +It is a misfortune to feel guilty because you do not give something you +cannot give. O my God!” he added, with a gesture of his arm. “If it all +happened reasonably, and not all topsy-turvy—not in our way but in a +way of its own! Why, it’s as if I had stolen that love! You think so +too, don’t deny it. You must think so. But will you believe it, of all +the horrid and stupid things I have found time to do in my life—and +there are many—this is one I do not and cannot repent of. Neither at +the beginning nor afterwards did I lie to myself or to her. It seemed +to me that I had at last fallen in love, but then I saw that it was an +involuntary falsehood, and that that was not the way to love, and I +could not go on, but she did. Am I to blame that I couldn’t? What was I +to do?” + +“Well, it’s ended now!” said his friend, lighting a cigar to master his +sleepiness. “The fact is that you have not yet loved and do not know +what love is.” + +The man in the fur-lined coat was going to speak again, and put his +hands to his head, but could not express what he wanted to say. + +“Never loved! ... Yes, quite true, I never have! But after all, I have +within me a desire to love, and nothing could be stronger than that +desire! But then, again, does such love exist? There always remains +something incomplete. Ah well! What’s the use of talking? I’ve made an +awful mess of life! But anyhow it’s all over now; you are quite right. +And I feel that I am beginning a new life.” + +“Which you will again make a mess of,” said the man who lay on the sofa +playing with his watch-key. But the traveller did not listen to him. + +“I am sad and yet glad to go,” he continued. “Why I am sad I don’t +know.” + +And the traveller went on talking about himself, without noticing that +this did not interest the others as much as it did him. A man is never +such an egotist as at moments of spiritual ecstasy. At such times it +seems to him that there is nothing on earth more splendid and +interesting than himself. + +“Dmítri Andréich! The coachman won’t wait any longer!” said a young +serf, entering the room in a sheepskin coat, with a scarf tied round +his head. “The horses have been standing since twelve, and it’s now +four o’clock!” + +Dmítri Andréich looked at his serf, Vanyúsha. The scarf round +Vanyúsha’s head, his felt boots and sleepy face, seemed to be calling +his master to a new life of labour, hardship, and activity. + +“True enough! Good-bye!” said he, feeling for the unfastened hook and +eye on his coat. + +In spite of advice to mollify the coachman by another tip, he put on +his cap and stood in the middle of the room. The friends kissed once, +then again, and after a pause, a third time. The man in the fur-lined +coat approached the table and emptied a champagne glass, then took the +plain little man’s hand and blushed. + +“Ah well, I will speak out all the same ... I must and will be frank +with you because I am fond of you ... Of course you love her—I always +thought so—don’t you?” + +“Yes,” answered his friend, smiling still more gently. + +“And perhaps...” + +“Please sir, I have orders to put out the candles,” said the sleepy +attendant, who had been listening to the last part of the conversation +and wondering why gentlefolk always talk about one and the same thing. +“To whom shall I make out the bill? To you, sir?” he added, knowing +whom to address and turning to the tall man. + +“To me,” replied the tall man. “How much?” + +“Twenty-six rubles.” + +The tall man considered for a moment, but said nothing and put the bill +in his pocket. + +The other two continued their talk. + +“Good-bye, you are a capital fellow!” said the short plain man with the +mild eyes. Tears filled the eyes of both. They stepped into the porch. + +“Oh, by the by,” said the traveller, turning with a blush to the tall +man, “will you settle Chevalier’s bill and write and let me know?” + +“All right, all right!” said the tall man, pulling on his gloves. “How +I envy you!” he added quite unexpectedly when they were out in the +porch. + +The traveller got into his sledge, wrapped his coat about him, and +said: “Well then, come along!” He even moved a little to make room in +the sledge for the man who said he envied him—his voice trembled. + +“Good-bye, Mítya! I hope that with God’s help you...” said the tall +one. But his wish was that the other would go away quickly, and so he +could not finish the sentence. + +They were silent a moment. Then someone again said, “Good-bye,” and a +voice cried, “Ready,” and the coachman touched up the horses. + +“Hy, Elisár!” One of the friends called out, and the other coachman and +the sledge-drivers began moving, clicking their tongues and pulling at +the reins. Then the stiffened carriage-wheels rolled squeaking over the +frozen snow. + +“A fine fellow, that Olénin!” said one of the friends. “But what an +idea to go to the Caucasus—as a cadet, too! I wouldn’t do it for +anything. ... Are you dining at the club tomorrow?” + +“Yes.” + +They separated. + +The traveller felt warm, his fur coat seemed too hot. He sat on the +bottom of the sledge and unfastened his coat, and the three shaggy +post-horses dragged themselves out of one dark street into another, +past houses he had never before seen. It seemed to Olénin that only +travellers starting on a long journey went through those streets. All +was dark and silent and dull around him, but his soul was full of +memories, love, regrets, and a pleasant tearful feeling. + + + + + Chapter II + + +“I’m fond of them, very fond! ... First-rate fellows! ... Fine!” he +kept repeating, and felt ready to cry. But why he wanted to cry, who +were the first-rate fellows he was so fond of—was more than he quite +knew. Now and then he looked round at some house and wondered why it +was so curiously built; sometimes he began wondering why the post-boy +and Vanyúsha, who were so different from himself, sat so near, and +together with him were being jerked about and swayed by the tugs the +side-horses gave at the frozen traces, and again he repeated: “First +rate ... very fond!” and once he even said: “And how it seizes one ... +excellent!” and wondered what made him say it. “Dear me, am I drunk?” +he asked himself. He had had a couple of bottles of wine, but it was +not the wine alone that was having this effect on Olénin. He remembered +all the words of friendship heartily, bashfully, spontaneously (as he +believed) addressed to him on his departure. He remembered the clasp of +hands, glances, the moments of silence, and the sound of a voice +saying, “Good-bye, Mítya!” when he was already in the sledge. He +remembered his own deliberate frankness. And all this had a touching +significance for him. Not only friends and relatives, not only people +who had been indifferent to him, but even those who did not like him, +seemed to have agreed to become fonder of him, or to forgive him, +before his departure, as people do before confession or death. “Perhaps +I shall not return from the Caucasus,” he thought. And he felt that he +loved his friends and some one besides. He was sorry for himself. But +it was not love for his friends that so stirred and uplifted his heart +that he could not repress the meaningless words that seemed to rise of +themselves to his lips; nor was it love for a woman (he had never yet +been in love) that had brought on this mood. Love for himself, love +full of hope—warm young love for all that was good in his own soul (and +at that moment it seemed to him that there was nothing but good in +it)—compelled him to weep and to mutter incoherent words. + +Olénin was a youth who had never completed his university course, never +served anywhere (having only a nominal post in some government office +or other), who had squandered half his fortune and had reached the age +of twenty-four without having done anything or even chosen a career. He +was what in Moscow society is termed _un jeune homme_. + +At the age of eighteen he was free—as only rich young Russians in the +’forties who had lost their parents at an early age could be. Neither +physical nor moral fetters of any kind existed for him; he could do as +he liked, lacking nothing and bound by nothing. Neither relatives, nor +fatherland, nor religion, nor wants, existed for him. He believed in +nothing and admitted nothing. But although he believed in nothing he +was not a morose or blase young man, nor self-opinionated, but on the +contrary continually let himself be carried away. He had come to the +conclusion that there is no such thing as love, yet his heart always +overflowed in the presence of any young and attractive woman. He had +long been aware that honours and position were nonsense, yet +involuntarily he felt pleased when at a ball Prince Sergius came up and +spoke to him affably. But he yielded to his impulses only in so far as +they did not limit his freedom. As soon as he had yielded to any +influence and became conscious of its leading on to labour and +struggle, he instinctively hastened to free himself from the feeling or +activity into which he was being drawn and to regain his freedom. In +this way he experimented with society-life, the civil service, farming, +music—to which at one time he intended to devote his life—and even with +the love of women in which he did not believe. He meditated on the use +to which he should devote that power of youth which is granted to man +only once in a lifetime: that force which gives a man the power of +making himself, or even—as it seemed to him—of making the universe, +into anything he wishes: should it be to art, to science, to love of +woman, or to practical activities? It is true that some people are +devoid of this impulse, and on entering life at once place their necks +under the first yoke that offers itself and honestly labour under it +for the rest of their lives. But Olénin was too strongly conscious of +the presence of that all-powerful God of Youth—of that capacity to be +entirely transformed into an aspiration or idea—the capacity to wish +and to do—to throw oneself headlong into a bottomless abyss without +knowing why or wherefore. He bore this consciousness within himself, +was proud of it and, without knowing it, was happy in that +consciousness. Up to that time he had loved only himself, and could not +help loving himself, for he expected nothing but good of himself and +had not yet had time to be disillusioned. On leaving Moscow he was in +that happy state of mind in which a young man, conscious of past +mistakes, suddenly says to himself, “That was not the real thing.” All +that had gone before was accidental and unimportant. Till then he had +not really tried to live, but now with his departure from Moscow a new +life was beginning—a life in which there would be no mistakes, no +remorse, and certainly nothing but happiness. + +It is always the case on a long journey that till the first two or +three stages have been passed imagination continues to dwell on the +place left behind, but with the first morning on the road it leaps to +the end of the journey and there begins building castles in the air. So +it happened to Olénin. + +After leaving the town behind, he gazed at the snowy fields and felt +glad to be alone in their midst. Wrapping himself in his fur coat, he +lay at the bottom of the sledge, became tranquil, and fell into a doze. +The parting with his friends had touched him deeply, and memories of +that last winter spent in Moscow and images of the past, mingled with +vague thoughts and regrets, rose unbidden in his imagination. + +He remembered the friend who had seen him off and his relations with +the girl they had talked about. The girl was rich. “How could he love +her knowing that she loved me?” thought he, and evil suspicions crossed +his mind. “There is much dishonesty in men when one comes to reflect.” +Then he was confronted by the question: “But really, how is it I have +never been in love? Every one tells me that I never have. Can it be +that I am a moral monstrosity?” And he began to recall all his +infatuations. He recalled his entry into society, and a friend’s sister +with whom he spent several evenings at a table with a lamp on it which +lit up her slender fingers busy with needlework, and the lower part of +her pretty delicate face. He recalled their conversations that dragged +on like the game in which one passes on a stick which one keeps alight +as long as possible, and the general awkwardness and restraint and his +continual feeling of rebellion at all that conventionality. Some voice +had always whispered: “That’s not it, that’s not it,” and so it had +proved. Then he remembered a ball and the mazurka he danced with the +beautiful D——. “How much in love I was that night and how happy! And +how hurt and vexed I was next morning when I woke and felt myself still +free! Why does not love come and bind me hand and foot?” thought he. +“No, there is no such thing as love! That neighbour who used to tell +me, as she told Dubróvin and the Marshal, that she loved the stars, was +not _it_ either.” + +And now his farming and work in the country recurred to his mind, and +in those recollections also there was nothing to dwell on with +pleasure. “Will they talk long of my departure?” came into his head; +but who “they” were he did not quite know. Next came a thought that +made him wince and mutter incoherently. It was the recollection of M. +Cappele the tailor, and the six hundred and seventy-eight rubles he +still owed him, and he recalled the words in which he had begged him to +wait another year, and the look of perplexity and resignation which had +appeared on the tailor’s face. “Oh, my God, my God!” he repeated, +wincing and trying to drive away the intolerable thought. “All the same +and in spite of everything she loved me,” thought he of the girl they +had talked about at the farewell supper. “Yes, had I married her I +should not now be owing anything, and as it is I am in debt to +Vasílyev.” Then he remembered the last night he had played with +Vasílyev at the club (just after leaving her), and he recalled his +humiliating requests for another game and the other’s cold refusal. “A +year’s economizing and they will all be paid, and the devil take +them!”... But despite this assurance he again began calculating his +outstanding debts, their dates, and when he could hope to pay them off. +“And I owe something to Morell as well as to Chevalier,” thought he, +recalling the night when he had run up so large a debt. It was at a +carousel at the gipsies arranged by some fellows from Petersburg: +Sáshka B——, an aide-de-camp to the Tsar, Prince D——, and that pompous +old——. “How is it those gentlemen are so self-satisfied?” thought he, +“and by what right do they form a clique to which they think others +must be highly flattered to be admitted? Can it be because they are on +the Emperor’s staff? Why, it’s awful what fools and scoundrels they +consider other people to be! But I showed them that I at any rate, on +the contrary, do not at all want their intimacy. All the same, I fancy +Andrew, the steward, would be amazed to know that I am on familiar +terms with a man like Sáshka B——, a colonel and an aide-de-camp to the +Tsar! Yes, and no one drank more than I did that evening, and I taught +the gipsies a new song and everyone listened to it. Though I have done +many foolish things, all the same I am a very good fellow,” thought he. + +Morning found him at the third post-stage. He drank tea, and himself +helped Vanyúsha to move his bundles and trunks and sat down among them, +sensible, erect, and precise, knowing where all his belongings were, +how much money he had and where it was, where he had put his passport +and the post-horse requisition and toll-gate papers, and it all seemed +to him so well arranged that he grew quite cheerful and the long +journey before him seemed an extended pleasure-trip. + +All that morning and noon he was deep in calculations of how many +versts he had travelled, how many remained to the next stage, how many +to the next town, to the place where he would dine, to the place where +he would drink tea, and to Stavrópol, and what fraction of the whole +journey was already accomplished. He also calculated how much money he +had with him, how much would be left over, how much would pay off all +his debts, and what proportion of his income he would spend each month. +Towards evening, after tea, he calculated that to Stavrópol there still +remained seven-elevenths of the whole journey, that his debts would +require seven months’ economy and one-eighth of his whole fortune; and +then, tranquillized, he wrapped himself up, lay down in the sledge, and +again dozed off. His imagination was now turned to the future: to the +Caucasus. All his dreams of the future were mingled with pictures of +Amalat-Beks, Circassian women, mountains, precipices, terrible +torrents, and perils. All these things were vague and dim, but the love +of fame and the danger of death furnished the interest of that future. +Now, with unprecedented courage and a strength that amazed everyone, he +slew and subdued an innumerable host of hillsmen; now he was himself a +hillsman and with them was maintaining their independence against the +Russians. As soon as he pictured anything definite, familiar Moscow +figures always appeared on the scene. Sáshka B—— fights with the +Russians or the hillsmen against him. Even the tailor Cappele in some +strange way takes part in the conqueror’s triumph. Amid all this he +remembered his former humiliations, weaknesses, and mistakes, and the +recollection was not disagreeable. It was clear that there among the +mountains, waterfalls, fair Circassians, and dangers, such mistakes +could not recur. Having once made full confession to himself there was +an end of it all. One other vision, the sweetest of them all, mingled +with the young man’s every thought of the future—the vision of a woman. +And there, among the mountains, she appeared to his imagination as a +Circassian slave, a fine figure with a long plait of hair and deep +submissive eyes. He pictured a lonely hut in the mountains, and on the +threshold _she_ stands awaiting him when, tired and covered with dust, +blood, and fame, he returns to her. He is conscious of her kisses, her +shoulders, her sweet voice, and her submissiveness. She is enchanting, +but uneducated, wild, and rough. In the long winter evenings he begins +her education. She is clever and gifted and quickly acquires all the +knowledge essential. Why not? She can quite easily learn foreign +languages, read the French masterpieces and understand them: _Notre +Dame de Paris_, for instance, is sure to please her. She can also speak +French. In a drawing-room she can show more innate dignity than a lady +of the highest society. She can sing, simply, powerfully, and +passionately.... “Oh, what nonsense!” said he to himself. But here they +reached a post-station and he had to change into another sledge and +give some tips. But his fancy again began searching for the “nonsense” +he had relinquished, and again fair Circassians, glory, and his return +to Russia with an appointment as aide-de-camp and a lovely wife rose +before his imagination. “But there’s no such thing as love,” said he to +himself. “Fame is all rubbish. But the six hundred and seventy-eight +rubles?... And the conquered land that will bring me more wealth than I +need for a lifetime? It will not be right though to keep all that +wealth for myself. I shall have to distribute it. But to whom? Well, +six hundred and seventy-eight rubles to Cappele and then we’ll see.” +... Quite vague visions now cloud his mind, and only Vanyúsha’s voice +and the interrupted motion of the sledge break his healthy youthful +slumber. Scarcely conscious, he changes into another sledge at the next +stage and continues his journey. + +Next morning everything goes on just the same: the same kind of +post-stations and tea-drinking, the same moving horses’ cruppers, the +same short talks with Vanyúsha, the same vague dreams and drowsiness, +and the same tired, healthy, youthful sleep at night. + + + + + Chapter III + + +The farther Olénin travelled from Central Russia the farther he left +his memories behind, and the nearer he drew to the Caucasus the lighter +his heart became. “I’ll stay away for good and never return to show +myself in society,” was a thought that sometimes occurred to him. +“These people whom I see here are _not_ people. None of them know me +and none of them can ever enter the Moscow society I was in or find out +about my past. And no one in that society will ever know what I am +doing, living among these people.” And quite a new feeling of freedom +from his whole past came over him among the rough beings he met on the +road whom he did not consider to be _people_ in the sense that his +Moscow acquaintances were. + +The rougher the people and the fewer the signs of civilization the +freer he felt. Stavrópol, through which he had to pass, irked him. The +signboards, some of them even in French, ladies in carriages, cabs in +the marketplace, and a gentleman wearing a fur cloak and tall hat who +was walking along the boulevard and staring at the passersby, quite +upset him. “Perhaps these people know some of my acquaintances,” he +thought; and the club, his tailor, cards, society ... came back to his +mind. But after Stavrópol everything was satisfactory—wild and also +beautiful and warlike, and Olénin felt happier and happier. All the +Cossacks, post-boys, and post-station masters seemed to him simple folk +with whom he could jest and converse simply, without having to consider +to what class they belonged. They all belonged to the human race which, +without his thinking about it, all appeared dear to Olénin, and they +all treated him in a friendly way. + +Already in the province of the Don Cossacks his sledge had been +exchanged for a cart, and beyond Stavrópol it became so warm that +Olénin travelled without wearing his fur coat. It was already spring—an +unexpected joyous spring for Olénin. At night he was no longer allowed +to leave the Cossack villages, and they said it was dangerous to travel +in the evening. Vanyúsha began to be uneasy, and they carried a loaded +gun in the cart. Olénin became still happier. At one of the +post-stations the post-master told of a terrible murder that had been +committed recently on the high road. They began to meet armed men. “So +this is where it begins!” thought Olénin, and kept expecting to see the +snowy mountains of which mention was so often made. Once, towards +evening, the Nogáy driver pointed with his whip to the mountains +shrouded in clouds. Olénin looked eagerly, but it was dull and the +mountains were almost hidden by the clouds. Olénin made out something +grey and white and fleecy, but try as he would he could find nothing +beautiful in the mountains of which he had so often read and heard. The +mountains and the clouds appeared to him quite alike, and he thought +the special beauty of the snow peaks, of which he had so often been +told, was as much an invention as Bach’s music and the love of women, +in which he did not believe. So he gave up looking forward to seeing +the mountains. But early next morning, being awakened in his cart by +the freshness of the air, he glanced carelessly to the right. The +morning was perfectly clear. Suddenly he saw, about twenty paces away +as it seemed to him at first glance, pure white gigantic masses with +delicate contours, the distinct fantastic outlines of their summits +showing sharply against the far-off sky. When he had realized the +distance between himself and them and the sky and the whole immensity +of the mountains, and felt the infinitude of all that beauty, he became +afraid that it was but a phantasm or a dream. He gave himself a shake +to rouse himself, but the mountains were still the same. + +“What’s that! What is it?” he said to the driver. + +“Why, the mountains,” answered the Nogáy driver with indifference. + +“And I too have been looking at them for a long while,” said Vanyúsha. +“Aren’t they fine? They won’t believe it at home.” + +The quick progress of the three-horsed cart along the smooth road +caused the mountains to appear to be running along the horizon, while +their rosy crests glittered in the light of the rising sun. At first +Olénin was only astonished at the sight, then gladdened by it; but +later on, gazing more and more intently at that snow-peaked chain that +seemed to rise not from among other black mountains, but straight out +of the plain, and to glide away into the distance, he began by slow +degrees to be penetrated by their beauty and at length to _feel_ the +mountains. From that moment all he saw, all he thought, and all he +felt, acquired for him a new character, sternly majestic like the +mountains! All his Moscow reminiscences, shame, and repentance, and his +trivial dreams about the Caucasus, vanished and did not return. “Now it +has begun,” a solemn voice seemed to say to him. The road and the +Térek, just becoming visible in the distance, and the Cossack villages +and the people, all no longer appeared to him as a joke. He looked at +himself or Vanyúsha, and again thought of the mountains. ... Two +Cossacks ride by, their guns in their cases swinging rhythmically +behind their backs, the white and bay legs of their horses mingling +confusedly ... and the mountains! Beyond the Térek rises the smoke from +a Tartar village... and the mountains! The sun has risen and glitters +on the Térek, now visible beyond the reeds ... and the mountains! From +the village comes a Tartar wagon, and women, beautiful young women, +pass by... and the mountains! “_Abreks_ canter about the plain, and +here am I driving along and do not fear them! I have a gun, and +strength, and youth... and the mountains!” + + + + + Chapter IV + + +That whole part of the Térek line (about fifty miles) along which lie +the villages of the Grebénsk Cossacks is uniform in character both as +to country and inhabitants. The Térek, which separates the Cossacks +from the mountaineers, still flows turbid and rapid though already +broad and smooth, always depositing greyish sand on its low reedy right +bank and washing away the steep, though not high, left bank, with its +roots of century-old oaks, its rotting plane trees, and young +brushwood. On the right bank lie the villages of pro-Russian, though +still somewhat restless, Tartars. Along the left bank, back half a mile +from the river and standing five or six miles apart from one another, +are Cossack villages. In olden times most of these villages were +situated on the banks of the river; but the Térek, shifting northward +from the mountains year by year, washed away those banks, and now there +remain only the ruins of the old villages and of the gardens of pear +and plum trees and poplars, all overgrown with blackberry bushes and +wild vines. No one lives there now, and one only sees the tracks of the +deer, the wolves, the hares, and the pheasants, who have learned to +love these places. From village to village runs a road cut through the +forest as a cannon-shot might fly. Along the roads are cordons of +Cossacks and watch-towers with sentinels in them. Only a narrow strip +about seven hundred yards wide of fertile wooded soil belongs to the +Cossacks. To the north of it begin the sand-drifts of the Nogáy or +Mozdók steppes, which fetch far to the north and run, Heaven knows +where, into the Trukhmén, Astrakhán, and Kirghíz-Kaisátsk steppes. To +the south, beyond the Térek, are the Great Chéchnya river, the +Kochkálov range, the Black Mountains, yet another range, and at last +the snowy mountains, which can just be seen but have never yet been +scaled. In this fertile wooded strip, rich in vegetation, has dwelt as +far back as memory runs the fine warlike and prosperous Russian tribe +belonging to the sect of Old Believers, and called the Grebénsk +Cossacks. + +Long long ago their Old Believer ancestors fled from Russia and settled +beyond the Térek among the Chéchens on the Grebén, the first range of +wooded mountains of Chéchnya. Living among the Chéchens the Cossacks +intermarried with them and adopted the manners and customs of the hill +tribes, though they still retained the Russian language in all its +purity, as well as their Old Faith. A tradition, still fresh among +them, declares that Tsar Iván the Terrible came to the Térek, sent for +their Elders, and gave them the land on this side of the river, +exhorting them to remain friendly to Russia and promising not to +enforce his rule upon them nor oblige them to change their faith. Even +now the Cossack families claim relationship with the Chéchens, and the +love of freedom, of leisure, of plunder and of war, still form their +chief characteristics. Only the harmful side of Russian influence shows +itself—by interference at elections, by confiscation of church bells, +and by the troops who are quartered in the country or march through it. + +A Cossack is inclined to hate less the _dzhigit_ hillsman who maybe has +killed his brother, than the soldier quartered on him to defend his +village, but who has defiled his hut with tobacco-smoke. He respects +his enemy the hillsman and despises the soldier, who is in his eyes an +alien and an oppressor. In reality, from a Cossack’s point of view a +Russian peasant is a foreign, savage, despicable creature, of whom he +sees a sample in the hawkers who come to the country and in the +Ukrainian immigrants whom the Cossack contemptuously calls +“woolbeaters”. For him, to be smartly dressed means to be dressed like +a Circassian. The best weapons are obtained from the hillsmen and the +best horses are bought, or stolen, from them. A dashing young Cossack +likes to show off his knowledge of Tartar, and when carousing talks +Tartar even to his fellow Cossack. + +In spite of all these things this small Christian clan stranded in a +tiny corner of the earth, surrounded by half-savage Mohammedan tribes +and by soldiers, considers itself highly advanced, acknowledges none +but Cossacks as human beings, and despises everybody else. The Cossack +spends most of his time in the cordon, in action, or in hunting and +fishing. He hardly ever works at home. When he stays in the village it +is an exception to the general rule and then he is holiday-making. All +Cossacks make their own wine, and drunkenness is not so much a general +tendency as a rite, the non-fulfilment of which would be considered +apostasy. The Cossack looks upon a woman as an instrument for his +welfare; only the unmarried girls are allowed to amuse themselves. A +married woman has to work for her husband from youth to very old age: +his demands on her are the Oriental ones of submission and labour. In +consequence of this outlook women are strongly developed both +physically and mentally, and though they are—as everywhere in the +East—nominally in subjection, they possess far greater influence and +importance in family-life than Western women. Their exclusion from +public life and inurement to heavy male labour give the women all the +more power and importance in the household. A Cossack, who before +strangers considers it improper to speak affectionately or needlessly +to his wife, when alone with her is involuntarily conscious of her +superiority. His house and all his property, in fact the entire +homestead, has been acquired and is kept together solely by her labour +and care. Though firmly convinced that labour is degrading to a Cossack +and is only proper for a Nogáy labourer or a woman, he is vaguely aware +of the fact that all he makes use of and calls his own is the result of +that toil, and that it is in the power of the woman (his mother or his +wife) whom he considers his slave, to deprive him of all he possesses. +Besides, the continuous performance of man’s heavy work and the +responsibilities entrusted to her have endowed the Grebénsk women with +a peculiarly independent masculine character and have remarkably +developed their physical powers, common sense, resolution, and +stability. The women are in most cases stronger, more intelligent, more +developed, and handsomer than the men. A striking feature of a Grebénsk +woman’s beauty is the combination of the purest Circassian type of face +with the broad and powerful build of Northern women. Cossack women wear +the Circassian dress: a Tartar smock, _beshmet_, and soft slippers; but +they tie their kerchiefs round their heads in the Russian fashion. +Smartness, cleanliness and elegance in dress and in the arrangement of +their huts, are with them a custom and a necessity. In their relations +with men the women, and especially the unmarried girls, enjoy perfect +freedom. + +Novomlínsk village was considered the very heart of Grebénsk +Cossackdom. In it more than elsewhere the customs of the old Grebénsk +population have been preserved, and its women have from time immemorial +been renowned all over the Caucasus for their beauty. A Cossack’s +livelihood is derived from vineyards, fruit-gardens, water melon and +pumpkin plantations, from fishing, hunting, maize and millet growing, +and from war plunder. Novomlínsk village lies about two and a half +miles away from the Térek, from which it is separated by a dense +forest. On one side of the road which runs through the village is the +river; on the other, green vineyards and orchards, beyond which are +seen the driftsands of the Nogáy Steppe. The village is surrounded by +earth-banks and prickly bramble hedges, and is entered by tall gates +hung between posts and covered with little reed-thatched roofs. Beside +them on a wooden gun-carriage stands an unwieldy cannon captured by the +Cossacks at some time or other, and which has not been fired for a +hundred years. A uniformed Cossack sentinel with dagger and gun +sometimes stands, and sometimes does not stand, on guard beside the +gates, and sometimes presents arms to a passing officer and sometimes +does not. + +Below the roof of the gateway is written in black letters on a white +board: “Houses 266: male inhabitants 897: female 1012.” The Cossacks’ +houses are all raised on pillars two and a half feet from the ground. +They are carefully thatched with reeds and have large carved gables. If +not new they are at least all straight and clean, with high porches of +different shapes; and they are not built close together but have ample +space around them, and are all picturesquely placed along broad streets +and lanes. In front of the large bright windows of many of the houses, +beyond the kitchen gardens, dark green poplars and acacias with their +delicate pale verdure and scented white blossoms overtop the houses, +and beside them grow flaunting yellow sunflowers, creepers, and grape +vines. In the broad open square are three shops where drapery, +sunflower and pumpkin seeds, locust beans and gingerbreads are sold; +and surrounded by a tall fence, loftier and larger than the other +houses, stands the Regimental Commander’s dwelling with its casement +windows, behind a row of tall poplars. Few people are to be seen in the +streets of the village on weekdays, especially in summer. The young men +are on duty in the cordons or on military expeditions; the old ones are +fishing or helping the women in the orchards and gardens. Only the very +old, the sick, and the children, remain at home. + + + + + Chapter V + + +It was one of those wonderful evenings that occur only in the Caucasus. +The sun had sunk behind the mountains but it was still light. The +evening glow had spread over a third of the sky, and against its +brilliancy the dull white immensity of the mountains was sharply +defined. The air was rarefied, motionless, and full of sound. The +shadow of the mountains reached for several miles over the steppe. The +steppe, the opposite side of the river, and the roads, were all +deserted. If very occasionally mounted men appeared, the Cossacks in +the cordon and the Chéchens in their _aouls_ (villages) watched them +with surprised curiosity and tried to guess who those questionable men +could be. + +At nightfall people from fear of one another flock to their dwellings, +and only birds and beasts fearless of man prowl in those deserted +spaces. Talking merrily, the women who have been tying up the vines +hurry away from the gardens before sunset. The vineyards, like all the +surrounding district, are deserted, but the villages become very +animated at that time of the evening. From all sides, walking, riding, +or driving in their creaking carts, people move towards the village. +Girls with their smocks tucked up and twigs in their hands run chatting +merrily to the village gates to meet the cattle that are crowding +together in a cloud of dust and mosquitoes which they bring with them +from the steppe. The well-fed cows and buffaloes disperse at a run all +over the streets and Cossack women in coloured _beshmets_ go to and fro +among them. You can hear their merry laughter and shrieks mingling with +the lowing of the cattle. There an armed and mounted Cossack, on leave +from the cordon, rides up to a hut and, leaning towards the window, +knocks. In answer to the knock the handsome head of a young woman +appears at the window and you can hear caressing, laughing voices. +There a tattered Nogáy labourer, with prominent cheekbones, brings a +load of reeds from the steppes, turns his creaking cart into the +Cossack captain’s broad and clean courtyard, and lifts the yoke off the +oxen that stand tossing their heads while he and his master shout to +one another in Tartar. Past a puddle that reaches nearly across the +street, a barefooted Cossack woman with a bundle of firewood on her +back makes her laborious way by clinging to the fences, holding her +smock high and exposing her white legs. A Cossack returning from +shooting calls out in jest: “Lift it higher, shameless thing!” and +points his gun at her. The woman lets down her smock and drops the +wood. An old Cossack, returning home from fishing with his trousers +tucked up and his hairy grey chest uncovered, has a net across his +shoulder containing silvery fish that are still struggling; and to take +a short cut climbs over his neighbour’s broken fence and gives a tug to +his coat which has caught on the fence. There a woman is dragging a dry +branch along and from round the corner comes the sound of an axe. +Cossack children, spinning their tops wherever there is a smooth place +in the street, are shrieking; women are climbing over fences to avoid +going round. From every chimney rises the odorous _kisyak_ smoke. From +every homestead comes the sound of increased bustle, precursor to the +stillness of night. + +Granny Ulítka, the wife of the Cossack cornet who is also teacher in +the regimental school, goes out to the gates of her yard like the other +women, and waits for the cattle which her daughter Maryánka is driving +along the street. Before she has had time fully to open the wattle gate +in the fence, an enormous buffalo cow surrounded by mosquitoes rushes +up bellowing and squeezes in. Several well-fed cows slowly follow her, +their large eyes gazing with recognition at their mistress as they +swish their sides with their tails. + +The beautiful and shapely Maryánka enters at the gate and throwing away +her switch quickly slams the gate to and rushes with all the speed of +her nimble feet to separate and drive the cattle into their sheds. +“Take off your slippers, you devil’s wench!” shouts her mother, “you’ve +worn them into holes!” Maryánka is not at all offended at being called +a “devil’s wench”, but accepting it as a term of endearment cheerfully +goes on with her task. Her face is covered with a kerchief tied round +her head. She is wearing a pink smock and a green _beshmet_. She +disappears inside the lean-to shed in the yard, following the big fat +cattle; and from the shed comes her voice as she speaks gently and +persuasively to the buffalo: “Won’t she stand still? What a creature! +Come now, come old dear!” Soon the girl and the old woman pass from the +shed to the dairy carrying two large pots of milk, the day’s yield. +From the dairy chimney rises a thin cloud of _kisyak_ smoke: the milk +is being used to make into clotted cream. The girl makes up the fire +while her mother goes to the gate. Twilight has fallen on the village. +The air is full of the smell of vegetables, cattle, and scented +_kisyak_ smoke. From the gates and along the streets Cossack women come +running, carrying lighted rags. From the yards one hears the snorting +and quiet chewing of the cattle eased of their milk, while in the +street only the voices of women and children sound as they call to one +another. It is rare on a week-day to hear the drunken voice of a man. + +One of the Cossack wives, a tall, masculine old woman, approaches +Granny Ulítka from the homestead opposite and asks her for a light. In +her hand she holds a rag. + +“Have you cleared up, Granny?” + +“The girl is lighting the fire. Is it fire you want?” says Granny +Ulítka, proud of being able to oblige her neighbour. + +Both women enter the hut, and coarse hands unused to dealing with small +articles tremblingly lift the lid of a matchbox, which is a rarity in +the Caucasus. The masculine-looking new-comer sits down on the doorstep +with the evident intention of having a chat. + +“And is your man at the school, Mother?” she asked. + +“He’s always teaching the youngsters, Mother. But he writes that he’ll +come home for the holidays,” said the cornet’s wife. + +“Yes, he’s a clever man, one sees; it all comes useful.” + +“Of course it does.” + +“And my Lukáshka is at the cordon; they won’t let him come home,” said +the visitor, though the cornet’s wife had known all this long ago. She +wanted to talk about her Lukáshka whom she had lately fitted out for +service in the Cossack regiment, and whom she wished to marry to the +cornet’s daughter, Maryánka. + +“So he’s at the cordon?” + +“He is, Mother. He’s not been home since last holidays. The other day I +sent him some shirts by Fómushkin. He says he’s all right, and that his +superiors are satisfied. He says they are looking out for _abreks_ +again. Lukáshka is quite happy, he says.” + +“Ah well, thank God,” said the cornet’s wife. “‘Snatcher’ is certainly +the only word for him.” Lukáshka was surnamed “the Snatcher” because of +his bravery in snatching a boy from a watery grave, and the cornet’s +wife alluded to this, wishing in her turn to say something agreeable to +Lukáshka’s mother. + +“I thank God, Mother, that he’s a good son! He’s a fine fellow, +everyone praises him,” says Lukáshka’s mother. “All I wish is to get +him married; then I could die in peace.” + +“Well, aren’t there plenty of young women in the village?” answered the +cornet’s wife slyly as she carefully replaced the lid of the matchbox +with her horny hands. + +“Plenty, Mother, plenty,” remarked Lukáshka’s mother, shaking her head. +“There’s your girl now, your Maryánka—that’s the sort of girl! You’d +have to search through the whole place to find such another!” The +cornet’s wife knows what Lukáshka’s mother is after, but though she +believes him to be a good Cossack she hangs back: first because she is +a cornet’s wife and rich, while Lukáshka is the son of a simple Cossack +and fatherless, secondly because she does not want to part with her +daughter yet, but chiefly because propriety demands it. + +“Well, when Maryánka grows up she’ll be marriageable too,” she answers +soberly and modestly. + +“I’ll send the matchmakers to you—I’ll send them! Only let me get the +vineyard done and then we’ll come and make our bows to you,” says +Lukáshka’s mother. “And we’ll make our bows to Elias Vasílich too.” + +“Elias, indeed!” says the cornet’s wife proudly. “It’s to me you must +speak! All in its own good time.” + +Lukáshka’s mother sees by the stern face of the cornet’s wife that it +is not the time to say anything more just now, so she lights her rag +with the match and says, rising: “Don’t refuse us, think of my words. +I’ll go, it is time to light the fire.” + +As she crosses the road swinging the burning rag, she meets Maryánka, +who bows. + +“Ah, she’s a regular queen, a splendid worker, that girl!” she thinks, +looking at the beautiful maiden. “What need for her to grow any more? +It’s time she was married and to a good home; married to Lukáshka!” + +But Granny Ulítka had her own cares and she remained sitting on the +threshold thinking hard about something, till the girl called her. + + + + + Chapter VI + + +The male population of the village spend their time on military +expeditions and in the cordon—or “at their posts”, as the Cossacks say. +Towards evening, that same Lukáshka the Snatcher, about whom the old +women had been talking, was standing on a watch-tower of the +Nízhni-Protótsk post situated on the very banks of the Térek. Leaning +on the railing of the tower and screwing up his eyes, he looked now far +into the distance beyond the Térek, now down at his fellow Cossacks, +and occasionally he addressed the latter. The sun was already +approaching the snowy range that gleamed white above the fleecy clouds. +The clouds undulating at the base of the mountains grew darker and +darker. The clearness of evening was noticeable in the air. A sense of +freshness came from the woods, though round the post it was still hot. +The voices of the talking Cossacks vibrated more sonorously than +before. The moving mass of the Térek’s rapid brown waters contrasted +more vividly with its motionless banks. The waters were beginning to +subside and here and there the wet sands gleamed drab on the banks and +in the shallows. The other side of the river, just opposite the cordon, +was deserted; only an immense waste of low-growing reeds stretched far +away to the very foot of the mountains. On the low bank, a little to +one side, could be seen the flat-roofed clay houses and the +funnel-shaped chimneys of a Chéchen village. The sharp eyes of the +Cossack who stood on the watch-tower followed, through the evening +smoke of the pro-Russian village, the tiny moving figures of the +Chéchen women visible in the distance in their red and blue garments. + +Although the Cossacks expected _abreks_ to cross over and attack them +from the Tartar side at any moment, especially as it was May when the +woods by the Térek are so dense that it is difficult to pass through +them on foot and the river is shallow enough in places for a horseman +to ford it, and despite the fact that a couple of days before a Cossack +had arrived with a circular from the commander of the regiment +announcing that spies had reported the intention of a party of some +eight men to cross the Térek, and ordering special vigilance—no special +vigilance was being observed in the cordon. The Cossacks, unarmed and +with their horses unsaddled just as if they were at home, spent their +time some in fishing, some in drinking, and some in hunting. Only the +horse of the man on duty was saddled, and with its feet hobbled was +moving about by the brambles near the wood, and only the sentinel had +his Circassian coat on and carried a gun and sword. The corporal, a +tall thin Cossack with an exceptionally long back and small hands and +feet, was sitting on the earth-bank of a hut with his _beshmet_ +unbuttoned. On his face was the lazy, bored expression of a superior, +and having shut his eyes he dropped his head upon the palm first of one +hand and then of the other. An elderly Cossack with a broad +greyish-black beard was lying in his shirt, girdled with a black strap, +close to the river and gazing lazily at the waves of the Térek as they +monotonously foamed and swirled. Others, also overcome by the heat and +half naked, were rinsing clothes in the Térek, plaiting a fishing line, +or humming tunes as they lay on the hot sand of the river bank. One +Cossack, with a thin face much burnt by the sun, lay near the hut +evidently dead drunk, by a wall which though it had been in shadow some +two hours previously was now exposed to the sun’s fierce slanting rays. + +Lukáshka, who stood on the watch-tower, was a tall handsome lad about +twenty years old and very like his mother. His face and whole build, in +spite of the angularity of youth, indicated great strength, both +physical and moral. Though he had only lately joined the Cossacks at +the front, it was evident from the expression of his face and the calm +assurance of his attitude that he had already acquired the somewhat +proud and warlike bearing peculiar to Cossacks and to men generally who +continually carry arms, and that he felt he was a Cossack and fully +knew his own value. His ample Circassian coat was torn in some places, +his cap was on the back of his head Chéchen fashion, and his leggings +had slipped below his knees. His clothing was not rich, but he wore it +with that peculiar Cossack foppishness which consists in imitating the +Chéchen brave. Everything on a real brave is ample, ragged, and +neglected, only his weapons are costly. But these ragged clothes and +these weapons are belted and worn with a certain air and matched in a +certain manner, neither of which can be acquired by everybody and which +at once strike the eye of a Cossack or a hillsman. Lukáshka had this +resemblance to a brave. With his hands folded under his sword, and his +eyes nearly closed, he kept looking at the distant Tartar village. +Taken separately his features were not beautiful, but anyone who saw +his stately carriage and his dark-browed intelligent face would +involuntarily say, “What a fine fellow!” + +“Look at the women, what a lot of them are walking about in the +village,” said he in a sharp voice, languidly showing his brilliant +white teeth and not addressing anyone in particular. + +Nazárka who was lying below immediately lifted his head and remarked: + +“They must be going for water.” + +“Supposing one scared them with a gun?” said Lukáshka, laughing, +“Wouldn’t they be frightened?” + +“It wouldn’t reach.” + +“What! Mine would carry beyond. Just wait a bit, and when their feast +comes round I’ll go and visit Giréy Khan and drink _buza_ there,” said +Lukáshka, angrily swishing away the mosquitoes which attached +themselves to him. + +A rustling in the thicket drew the Cossack’s attention. A pied mongrel +half-setter, searching for a scent and violently wagging its scantily +furred tail, came running to the cordon. Lukáshka recognized the dog as +one belonging to his neighbour, Uncle Eróshka, a hunter, and saw, +following it through the thicket, the approaching figure of the hunter +himself. + +Uncle Eróshka was a gigantic Cossack with a broad, snow-white beard and +such broad shoulders and chest that in the wood, where there was no one +to compare him with, he did not look particularly tall, so well +proportioned were his powerful limbs. He wore a tattered coat and, over +the bands with which his legs were swathed, sandals made of undressed +deer’s hide tied on with strings; while on his head he had a rough +little white cap. He carried over one shoulder a screen to hide behind +when shooting pheasants, and a bag containing a hen for luring hawks, +and a small falcon; over the other shoulder, attached by a strap, was a +wild cat he had killed; and stuck in his belt behind were some little +bags containing bullets, gunpowder, and bread, a horse’s tail to swish +away the mosquitoes, a large dagger in a torn scabbard smeared with old +bloodstains, and two dead pheasants. Having glanced at the cordon he +stopped. + +“Hy, Lyam!” he called to the dog in such a ringing bass that it awoke +an echo far away in the wood; and throwing over his shoulder his big +gun, of the kind the Cossacks call a “flint”, he raised his cap. + +“Had a good day, good people, eh?” he said, addressing the Cossacks in +the same strong and cheerful voice, quite without effort, but as loudly +as if he were shouting to someone on the other bank of the river. + +“Yes, yes, Uncle!” answered from all sides the voices of the young +Cossacks. + +“What have you seen? Tell us!” shouted Uncle Eróshka, wiping the sweat +from his broad red face with the sleeve of his coat. + +“Ah, there’s a vulture living in the plane tree here, Uncle. As soon as +night comes he begins hovering round,” said Nazárka, winking and +jerking his shoulder and leg. + +“Come, come!” said the old man incredulously. + +“Really, Uncle! You must keep watch,” replied Nazárka with a laugh. + +The other Cossacks began laughing. + +The wag had not seen any vulture at all, but it had long been the +custom of the young Cossacks in the cordon to tease and mislead Uncle +Eróshka every time he came to them. + +“Eh, you fool, always lying!” exclaimed Lukáshka from the tower to +Nazárka. + +Nazárka was immediately silenced. + +“It must be watched. I’ll watch,” answered the old man to the great +delight of all the Cossacks. “But have you seen any boars?” + +“Watching for boars, are you?” said the corporal, bending forward and +scratching his back with both hands, very pleased at the chance of some +distraction. “It’s _abreks_ one has to hunt here and not boars! You’ve +not heard anything, Uncle, have you?” he added, needlessly screwing up +his eyes and showing his close-set white teeth. + +“_Abreks_,” said the old man. “No, I haven’t. I say, have you any +_chikhir?_ Let me have a drink, there’s a good man. I’m really quite +done up. When the time comes I’ll bring you some fresh meat, I really +will. Give me a drink!” he added. + +“Well, and are you going to watch?” inquired the corporal, as though he +had not heard what the other said. + +“I did mean to watch tonight,” replied Uncle Eróshka. “Maybe, with +God’s help, I shall kill something for the holiday. Then you shall have +a share, you shall indeed!” + +“Uncle! Hallo, Uncle!” called out Lukáshka sharply from above, +attracting everybody’s attention. All the Cossacks looked up at him. +“Just go to the upper water-course, there’s a fine herd of boars there. +I’m not inventing, really! The other day one of our Cossacks shot one +there. I’m telling you the truth,” added he, readjusting the musket at +his back and in a tone that showed he was not joking. + +“Ah! Lukáshka the Snatcher is here!” said the old man, looking up. +“Where has he been shooting?” + +“Haven’t you seen? I suppose you’re too young!” said Lukáshka. “Close +by the ditch,” he went on seriously with a shake of the head. “We were +just going along the ditch when all at once we heard something +crackling, but my gun was in its case. Elias fired suddenly ... But +I’ll show you the place, it’s not far. You just wait a bit. I know +every one of their footpaths ... Daddy Mósev,” said he, turning +resolutely and almost commandingly to the corporal, “it’s time to +relieve guard!” and holding aloft his gun he began to descend from the +watch-tower without waiting for the order. + +“Come down!” said the corporal, after Lukáshka had started, and glanced +round. “Is it your turn, Gúrka? Then go ... True enough your Lukáshka +has become very skilful,” he went on, addressing the old man. “He keeps +going about just like you, he doesn’t stay at home. The other day he +killed a boar.” + + + + + Chapter VII + + +The sun had already set and the shades of night were rapidly spreading +from the edge of the wood. The Cossacks finished their task round the +cordon and gathered in the hut for supper. Only the old man still +stayed under the plane tree watching for the vulture and pulling the +string tied to the falcon’s leg, but though a vulture was really +perching on the plane tree it declined to swoop down on the lure. +Lukáshka, singing one song after another, was leisurely placing nets +among the very thickest brambles to trap pheasants. In spite of his +tall stature and big hands every kind of work, both rough and delicate, +prospered under Lukáshka’s fingers. + +“Hallo, Luke!” came Nazárka’s shrill, sharp voice calling him from the +thicket close by. “The Cossacks have gone in to supper.” + +Nazárka, with a live pheasant under his arm, forced his way through the +brambles and emerged on the footpath. + +“Oh!” said Lukáshka, breaking off in his song, “where did you get that +cock pheasant? I suppose it was in my trap?” + +Nazárka was of the same age as Lukáshka and had also only been at the +front since the previous spring. + +He was plain, thin and puny, with a shrill voice that rang in one’s +ears. They were neighbours and comrades. Lukáshka was sitting on the +grass cross-legged like a Tartar, adjusting his nets. + +“I don’t know whose it was—yours, I expect.” + +“Was it beyond the pit by the plane tree? Then it is mine! I set the +nets last night.” + +Lukáshka rose and examined the captured pheasant. After stroking the +dark burnished head of the bird, which rolled its eyes and stretched +out its neck in terror, Lukáshka took the pheasant in his hands. + +“We’ll have it in a pilau tonight. You go and kill and pluck it.” + +“And shall we eat it ourselves or give it to the corporal?” + +“He has plenty!” + +“I don’t like killing them,” said Nazárka. + +“Give it here!” + +Lukáshka drew a little knife from under his dagger and gave it a swift +jerk. The bird fluttered, but before it could spread its wings the +bleeding head bent and quivered. + +“That’s how one should do it!” said Lukáshka, throwing down the +pheasant. “It will make a fat pilau.” + +Nazárka shuddered as he looked at the bird. + +“I say, Lukáshka, that fiend will be sending us to the ambush again +tonight,” he said, taking up the bird. (He was alluding to the +corporal.) “He has sent Fómushkin to get wine, and it ought to be his +turn. He always puts it on us.” + +Lukáshka went whistling along the cordon. + +“Take the string with you,” he shouted. + +Nazirka obeyed. + +“I’ll give him a bit of my mind today, I really will,” continued +Nazárka. “Let’s say we won’t go; we’re tired out and there’s an end of +it! No, really, you tell him, he’ll listen to you. It’s too bad!” + +“Get along with you! What a thing to make a fuss about!” said Lukáshka, +evidently thinking of something else. “What bosh! If he made us turn +out of the village at night now, that would be annoying: there one can +have some fun, but here what is there? It’s all one whether we’re in +the cordon or in ambush. What a fellow you are!” + +“And are you going to the village?” + +“I’ll go for the holidays.” + +“Gúrka says your Dunáyka is carrying on with Fómushkin,” said Nazárka +suddenly. + +“Well, let her go to the devil,” said Lukáshka, showing his regular +white teeth, though he did not laugh. “As if I couldn’t find another!” + +“Gúrka says he went to her house. Her husband was out and there was +Fómushkin sitting and eating pie. Gúrka stopped awhile and then went +away, and passing by the window he heard her say, ‘He’s gone, the +fiend.... Why don’t you eat your pie, my own? You needn’t go home for +the night,’ she says. And Gúrka under the window says to himself, +‘That’s fine!’” + +“You’re making it up.” + +“No, quite true, by Heaven!” + +“Well, if she’s found another let her go to the devil,” said Lukáshka, +after a pause. “There’s no lack of girls and I was sick of her anyway.” + +“Well, see what a devil you are!” said Nazárka. “You should make up to +the cornet’s girl, Maryánka. Why doesn’t she walk out with any one?” + +Lukáshka frowned. “What of Maryánka? They’re all alike,” said he. + +“Well, you just try...” + +“What do you think? Are girls so scarce in the village?” + +And Lukáshka recommenced whistling, and went along the cordon pulling +leaves and branches from the bushes as he went. Suddenly, catching +sight of a smooth sapling, he drew the knife from the handle of his +dagger and cut it down. “What a ramrod it will make,” he said, swinging +the sapling till it whistled through the air. + +The Cossacks were sitting round a low Tartar table on the earthen floor +of the clay-plastered outer room of the hut, when the question of whose +turn it was to lie in ambush was raised. “Who is to go tonight?” +shouted one of the Cossacks through the open door to the corporal in +the next room. + +“Who is to go?” the corporal shouted back. “Uncle Burlák has been and +Fómushkin too,” said he, not quite confidently. “You two had better go, +you and Nazárka,” he went on, addressing Lukáshka. “And Ergushóv must +go too; surely he has slept it off?” + +“You don’t sleep it off yourself so why should he?” said Nazárka in a +subdued voice. + +The Cossacks laughed. + +Ergushóv was the Cossack who had been lying drunk and asleep near the +hut. He had only that moment staggered into the room rubbing his eyes. + +Lukáshka had already risen and was getting his gun ready. + +“Be quick and go! Finish your supper and go!” said the corporal; and +without waiting for an expression of consent he shut the door, +evidently not expecting the Cossack to obey. “Of course,” thought he, +“if I hadn’t been ordered to I wouldn’t send anyone, but an officer +might turn up at any moment. As it is, they say eight _abreks_ have +crossed over.” + +“Well, I suppose I must go,” remarked Ergushóv, “it’s the regulation. +Can’t be helped! The times are such. I say, we must go.” + +Meanwhile Lukáshka, holding a big piece of pheasant to his mouth with +both hands and glancing now at Nazárka, now at Ergushóv, seemed quite +indifferent to what passed and only laughed at them both. Before the +Cossacks were ready to go into ambush. Uncle Eróshka, who had been +vainly waiting under the plane tree till night fell, entered the dark +outer room. + +“Well, lads,” his loud bass resounded through the low-roofed room +drowning all the other voices, “I’m going with you. You’ll watch for +Chéchens and I for boars!” + + + + + Chapter VIII + + +It was quite dark when Uncle Eróshka and the three Cossacks, in their +cloaks and shouldering their guns, left the cordon and went towards the +place on the Térek where they were to lie in ambush. Nazárka did not +want to go at all, but Lukáshka shouted at him and they soon started. +After they had gone a few steps in silence the Cossacks turned aside +from the ditch and went along a path almost hidden by reeds till they +reached the river. On its bank lay a thick black log cast up by the +water. The reeds around it had been recently beaten down. + +“Shall we lie here?” asked Nazárka. + +“Why not?” answered Lukáshka. “Sit down here and I’ll be back in a +minute. I’ll only show Daddy where to go.” + +“This is the best place; here we can see and not be seen,” said +Ergushóv, “so it’s here we’ll lie. It’s a first-rate place!” + +Nazárka and Ergushóv spread out their cloaks and settled down behind +the log, while Lukáshka went on with Uncle Eróshka. + +“It’s not far from here. Daddy,” said Lukáshka, stepping softly in +front of the old man; “I’ll show you where they’ve been—I’m the only +one that knows, Daddy.” + +“Show me! You’re a fine fellow, a regular Snatcher!” replied the old +man, also whispering. + +Having gone a few steps Lukáshka stopped, stooped down over a puddle, +and whistled. “That’s where they come to drink, d’you see?” He spoke in +a scarcely audible voice, pointing to fresh hoof-prints. + +“Christ bless you,” answered the old man. “The boar will be in the +hollow beyond the ditch,” he added. “I’ll watch, and you can go.” + +Lukáshka pulled his cloak up higher and walked back alone, throwing +swift glances now to the left at the wall of reeds, now to the Térek +rushing by below the bank. “I daresay he’s watching or creeping along +somewhere,” thought he of a possible Chéchen hillsman. Suddenly a loud +rustling and a splash in the water made him start and seize his musket. +From under the bank a boar leapt up—his dark outline showing for a +moment against the glassy surface of the water and then disappearing +among the reeds. Lukáshka pulled out his gun and aimed, but before he +could fire the boar had disappeared in the thicket. Lukáshka spat with +vexation and went on. On approaching the ambuscade he halted again and +whistled softly. His whistle was answered and he stepped up to his +comrades. + +Nazárka, all curled up, was already asleep. Ergushóv sat with his legs +crossed and moved slightly to make room for Lukáshka. + +“How jolly it is to sit here! It’s really a good place,” said he. “Did +you take him there?” + +“Showed him where,” answered Lukáshka, spreading out his cloak. “But +what a big boar I roused just now close to the water! I expect it was +the very one! You must have heard the crash?” + +“I did hear a beast crashing through. I knew at once it was a beast. I +thought to myself: ‘Lukáshka has roused a beast,’” Ergushóv said, +wrapping himself up in his cloak. “Now I’ll go to sleep,” he added. +“Wake me when the cocks crow. We must have discipline. I’ll lie down +and have a nap, and then you will have a nap and I’ll watch—that’s the +way.” + +“Luckily I don’t want to sleep,” answered Lukáshka. + +The night was dark, warm, and still. Only on one side of the sky the +stars were shining, the other and greater part was overcast by one huge +cloud stretching from the mountaintops. The black cloud, blending in +the absence of any wind with the mountains, moved slowly onwards, its +curved edges sharply defined against the deep starry sky. Only in front +of him could the Cossack discern the Térek and the distance beyond. +Behind and on both sides he was surrounded by a wall of reeds. +Occasionally the reeds would sway and rustle against one another +apparently without cause. Seen from down below, against the clear part +of the sky, their waving tufts looked like the feathery branches of +trees. Close in front at his very feet was the bank, and at its base +the rushing torrent. A little farther on was the moving mass of glassy +brown water which eddied rhythmically along the bank and round the +shallows. Farther still, water, banks, and cloud all merged together in +impenetrable gloom. Along the surface of the water floated black +shadows, in which the experienced eyes of the Cossack detected trees +carried down by the current. Only very rarely sheet-lightning, mirrored +in the water as in a black glass, disclosed the sloping bank opposite. +The rhythmic sounds of night—the rustling of the reeds, the snoring of +the Cossacks, the hum of mosquitoes, and the rushing water, were every +now and then broken by a shot fired in the distance, or by the gurgling +of water when a piece of bank slipped down, the splash of a big fish, +or the crashing of an animal breaking through the thick undergrowth in +the wood. Once an owl flew past along the Térek, flapping one wing +against the other rhythmically at every second beat. Just above the +Cossack’s head it turned towards the wood and then, striking its wings +no longer after every other flap but at every flap, it flew to an old +plane tree where it rustled about for a long time before settling down +among the branches. At every one of these unexpected sounds the +watching Cossack listened intently, straining his hearing, and screwing +up his eyes while he deliberately felt for his musket. + +The greater part of the night was past. The black cloud that had moved +westward revealed the clear starry sky from under its torn edge, and +the golden upturned crescent of the moon shone above the mountains with +a reddish light. The cold began to be penetrating. Nazárka awoke, spoke +a little, and fell asleep again. Lukáshka feeling bored got up, drew +the knife from his dagger-handle and began to fashion his stick into a +ramrod. His head was full of the Chéchens who lived over there in the +mountains, and of how their brave lads came across and were not afraid +of the Cossacks, and might even now be crossing the river at some other +spot. He thrust himself out of his hiding-place and looked along the +river but could see nothing. And as he continued looking out at +intervals upon the river and at the opposite bank, now dimly +distinguishable from the water in the faint moonlight, he no longer +thought about the Chéchens but only of when it would be time to wake +his comrades, and of going home to the village. In the village he +imagined Dunáyka, his “little soul”, as the Cossacks call a man’s +mistress, and thought of her with vexation. Silvery mists, a sign of +coming morning, glittered white above the water, and not far from him +young eagles were whistling and flapping their wings. At last the +crowing of a cock reached him from the distant village, followed by the +long-sustained note of another, which was again answered by yet other +voices. + +“Time to wake them,” thought Lukáshka, who had finished his ramrod and +felt his eyes growing heavy. Turning to his comrades he managed to make +out which pair of legs belonged to whom, when it suddenly seemed to him +that he heard something splash on the other side of the Térek. He +turned again towards the horizon beyond the hills, where day was +breaking under the upturned crescent, glanced at the outline of the +opposite bank, at the Térek, and at the now distinctly visible +driftwood upon it. For one instant it seemed to him that he was moving +and that the Térek with the drifting wood remained stationary. Again he +peered out. One large black log with a branch particularly attracted +his attention. The tree was floating in a strange way right down the +middle of the stream, neither rocking nor whirling. It even appeared +not to be floating altogether with the current, but to be crossing it +in the direction of the shallows. Lukáshka stretching out his neck +watched it intently. The tree floated to the shallows, stopped, and +shifted in a peculiar manner. Lukáshka thought he saw an arm stretched +out from beneath the tree. + +“Supposing I killed an _abrek_ all by myself!” he thought, and seized +his gun with a swift, unhurried movement, putting up his gun-rest, +placing the gun upon it, and holding it noiselessly in position. +Cocking the trigger, with bated breath he took aim, still peering out +intently. + +“I won’t wake them,” he thought. But his heart began beating so fast +that he remained motionless, listening. Suddenly the trunk gave a +plunge and again began to float across the stream towards our bank. + +“Suppose I miss?...” thought he, and now by the faint light of the moon +he caught a glimpse of a Tartar’s head in front of the floating wood. +He aimed straight at the head which appeared to be quite near—just at +the end of his rifle’s barrel. He glanced cross. “Right enough it is an +_abrek!_” he thought joyfully, and suddenly rising to his knees he +again took aim. Having found the sight, barely visible at the end of +the long gun, he said: “In the name of the Father and of the Son,” in +the Cossack way learnt in his childhood, and pulled the trigger. A +flash of lightning lit up for an instant the reeds and the water, and +the sharp, abrupt report of the shot was carried across the river, +changing into a prolonged roll somewhere in the far distance. The piece +of driftwood now floated not across, but with the current, rocking and +whirling. + +“Stop, I say!” exclaimed Ergushóv, seizing his musket and raising +himself behind the log near which he was lying. + +“Shut up, you devil!” whispered Lukáshka, grinding his teeth. +“_Abreks!_” + +“Whom have you shot?” asked Nazárka. “Who was it, Lukáshka?” + +Lukáshka did not answer. He was reloading his gun and watching the +floating wood. A little way off it stopped on a sand-bank, and from +behind it something large that rocked in the water came into view. + +“What did you shoot? Why don’t you speak?” insisted the Cossacks. + +“_Abreks_, I tell you!” said Lukáshka. + +“Don’t humbug! Did the gun go off? ...” + +“I’ve killed an _abrek_, that’s what I fired at,” muttered Lukáshka in +a voice choked by emotion, as he jumped to his feet. “A man was +swimming...” he said, pointing to the sandbank. “I killed him. Just +look there.” + +“Have done with your humbugging!” said Ergushóv again, rubbing his +eyes. + +“Have done with what? Look there,” said Lukáshka, seizing him by the +shoulders and pulling him with such force that Ergushóv groaned. + +He looked in the direction in which Lukáshka pointed, and discerning a +body immediately changed his tone. + +“O Lord! But I say, more will come! I tell you the truth,” said he +softly, and began examining his musket. “That was a scout swimming +across: either the others are here already or are not far off on the +other side—I tell you for sure!” Lukáshka was unfastening his belt and +taking off his Circassian coat. + +“What are you up to, you idiot?” exclaimed Ergushóv. “Only show +yourself and you’ve lost all for nothing, I tell you true! If you’ve +killed him he won’t escape. Let me have a little powder for my +musket-pan—you have some? Nazárka, you go back to the cordon and look +alive; but don’t go along the bank or you’ll be killed—I tell you +true.” + +“Catch me going alone! Go yourself!” said Nazárka angrily. + +Having taken off his coat, Lukáshka went down to the bank. + +“Don’t go in, I tell you!” said Ergushóv, putting some powder on the +pan. “Look, he’s not moving. I can see. It’s nearly morning; wait till +they come from the cordon. You go, Nazárka. You’re afraid! Don’t be +afraid, I tell you.” + +“Luke, I say, Lukáshka! Tell us how you did it!” said Nazárka. + +Lukáshka changed his mind about going into the water just then. “Go +quick to the cordon and I will watch. Tell the Cossacks to send out the +patrol. If the _abreks_ are on this side they must be caught,” said he. + +“That’s what I say. They’ll get off,” said Ergushóv, rising. “True, +they must be caught!” + +Ergushóv and Nazárka rose and, crossing themselves, started off for the +cordon—not along the riverbank but breaking their way through the +brambles to reach a path in the wood. + +“Now mind, Lukáshka—they may cut you down here, so you’d best keep a +sharp look-out, I tell you!” + +“Go along; I know,” muttered Lukáshka; and having examined his gun +again he sat down behind the log. + +He remained alone and sat gazing at the shallows and listening for the +Cossacks; but it was some distance to the cordon and he was tormented +by impatience. He kept thinking that the other _abreks_ who were with +the one he had killed would escape. He was vexed with the _abreks_ who +were going to escape just as he had been with the boar that had escaped +the evening before. He glanced round and at the opposite bank, +expecting every moment to see a man, and having arranged his gun-rest +he was ready to fire. The idea that he might himself be killed never +entered his head. + + + + + Chapter IX + + +It was growing light. The Chéchen’s body which was gently rocking in +the shallow water was now clearly visible. Suddenly the reeds rustled +not far from Luke and he heard steps and saw the feathery tops of the +reeds moving. He set his gun at full cock and muttered: “In the name of +the Father and of the Son,” but when the cock clicked the sound of +steps ceased. + +“Hallo, Cossacks! Don’t kill your Daddy!” said a deep bass voice +calmly; and moving the reeds apart Daddy Eróshka came up close to Luke. + +“I very nearly killed you, by God I did!” said Lukáshka. + +“What have you shot?” asked the old man. + +His sonorous voice resounded through the wood and downward along the +river, suddenly dispelling the mysterious quiet of night around the +Cossack. It was as if everything had suddenly become lighter and more +distinct. + +“There now. Uncle, you have not seen anything, but I’ve killed a +beast,” said Lukáshka, uncocking his gun and getting up with unnatural +calmness. + +The old man was staring intently at the white back, now clearly +visible, against which the Térek rippled. + +“He was swimming with a log on his back. I spied him out! ... Look +there. There! He’s got blue trousers, and a gun I think.... Do you +see?” inquired Luke. + +“How can one help seeing?” said the old man angrily, and a serious and +stern expression appeared on his face. “You’ve killed a brave,” he +said, apparently with regret. + +“Well, I sat here and suddenly saw something dark on the other side. I +spied him when he was still over there. It was as if a man had come +there and fallen in. Strange! And a piece of driftwood, a good-sized +piece, comes floating, not with the stream but across it; and what do I +see but a head appearing from under it! Strange! I stretched out of the +reeds but could see nothing; then I rose and he must have heard, the +beast, and crept out into the shallow and looked about. ‘No, you +don’t!’ I said, as soon as he landed and looked round, ‘you won’t get +away!’ Oh, there was something choking me! I got my gun ready but did +not stir, and looked out. He waited a little and then swam out again; +and when he came into the moonlight I could see his whole back. ‘In the +name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Ghost’... and through +the smoke I see him struggling. He moaned, or so it seemed to me. ‘Ah,’ +I thought, ‘the Lord be thanked, I’ve killed him!’ And when he drifted +onto the sand-bank I could see him distinctly: he tried to get up but +couldn’t. He struggled a bit and then lay down. Everything could be +seen. Look, he does not move—he must be dead! The Cossacks have gone +back to the cordon in case there should be any more of them.” + +“And so you got him!” said the old man. “He is far away now, my lad! +...” And again he shook his head sadly. + +Just then the sound reached them of breaking bushes and the loud voices +of Cossacks approaching along the bank on horseback and on foot. “Are +you bringing the skiff?” shouted Lukáshka. + +“You’re a trump, Luke! Lug it to the bank!” shouted one of the +Cossacks. + +Without waiting for the skiff Lukáshka began to undress, keeping an eye +all the while on his prey. + +“Wait a bit, Nazárka is bringing the skiff,” shouted the corporal. + +“You fool! Maybe he is alive and only pretending! Take your dagger with +you!” shouted another Cossack. + +“Get along,” cried Luke, pulling off his trousers. He quickly undressed +and, crossing himself, jumped, plunging with a splash into the river. +Then with long strokes of his white arms, lifting his back high out of +the water and breathing deeply, he swam across the current of the Térek +towards the shallows. A crowd of Cossacks stood on the bank talking +loudly. Three horsemen rode off to patrol. The skiff appeared round a +bend. Lukáshka stood up on the sandbank, leaned over the body, and gave +it a couple of shakes. + +“Quite dead!” he shouted in a shrill voice. + +The Chéchen had been shot in the head. He had on a pair of blue +trousers, a shirt, and a Circassian coat, and a gun and dagger were +tied to his back. Above all these a large branch was tied, and it was +this which at first had misled Lukáshka. + +“What a carp you’ve landed!” cried one of the Cossacks who had +assembled in a circle, as the body, lifted out of the skiff, was laid +on the bank, pressing down the grass. + +“How yellow he is!” said another. + +“Where have our fellows gone to search? I expect the rest of them are +on the other bank. If this one had not been a scout he would not have +swum that way. Why else should he swim alone?” said a third. + +“Must have been a smart one to offer himself before the others; a +regular brave!” said Lukáshka mockingly, shivering as he wrung out his +clothes that had got wet on the bank. + +“His beard is dyed and cropped.” + +“And he has tied a bag with a coat in it to his back.” + +“That would make it easier for him to swim,” said some one. + +“I say, Lukáshka,” said the corporal, who was holding the dagger and +gun taken from the dead man. “Keep the dagger for yourself and the coat +too; but I’ll give you three rubles for the gun. You see it has a hole +in it,” said he, blowing into the muzzle. “I want it just for a +souvenir.” + +Lukáshka did not answer. Evidently this sort of begging vexed him but +he knew it could not be avoided. + +“See, what a devil!” said he, frowning and throwing down the Chéchen’s +coat. “If at least it were a good coat, but it’s a mere rag.” + +“It’ll do to fetch firewood in,” said one of the Cossacks. + +“Mósev, I’ll go home,” said Lukáshka, evidently forgetting his vexation +and wishing to get some advantage out of having to give a present to +his superior. + +“All right, you may go!” + +“Take the body beyond the cordon, lads,” said the corporal, still +examining the gun, “and put a shelter over him from the sun. Perhaps +they’ll send from the mountains to ransom it.” + +“It isn’t hot yet,” said someone. + +“And supposing a jackal tears him? Would that be well?” remarked +another Cossack. + +“We’ll set a watch; if they should come to ransom him it won’t do for +him to have been torn.” + +“Well, Lukáshka, whatever you do you must stand a pail of vodka for the +lads,” said the corporal gaily. + +“Of course! That’s the custom,” chimed in the Cossacks. “See what luck +God has sent you! Without ever having seen anything of the kind before, +you’ve killed a brave!” + +“Buy the dagger and coat and don’t be stingy, and I’ll let you have the +trousers too,” said Lukáshka. “They’re too tight for me; he was a thin +devil.” + +One Cossack bought the coat for a ruble and another gave the price of +two pails of vodka for the dagger. + +“Drink, lads! I’ll stand you a pail!” said Luke. “I’ll bring it myself +from the village.” + +“And cut up the trousers into kerchiefs for the girls!” said Nazárka. + +The Cossacks burst out laughing. + +“Have done laughing!” said the corporal. “And take the body away. Why +have you put the nasty thing by the hut?” + +“What are you standing there for? Haul him along, lads!” shouted +Lukáshka in a commanding voice to the Cossacks, who reluctantly took +hold of the body, obeying him as though he were their chief. After +dragging the body along for a few steps the Cossacks let fall the legs, +which dropped with a lifeless jerk, and stepping apart they then stood +silent for a few moments. Nazárka came up and straightened the head, +which was turned to one side so that the round wound above the temple +and the whole of the dead man’s face were visible. “See what a mark he +has made right in the brain,” he said. “He won’t get lost. His owners +will always know him!” No one answered, and again the Angel of Silence +flew over the Cossacks. + +The sun had risen high and its diverging beams were lighting up the +dewy grass. Near by, the Térek murmured in the awakened wood and, +greeting the morning, the pheasants called to one another. The Cossacks +stood still and silent around the dead man, gazing at him. The brown +body, with nothing on but the wet blue trousers held by a girdle over +the sunken stomach, was well shaped and handsome. The muscular arms lay +stretched straight out by his sides; the blue, freshly shaven, round +head with the clotted wound on one side of it was thrown back. The +smooth tanned forehead contrasted sharply with the shaven part of the +head. The open glassy eyes with lowered pupils stared upwards, seeming +to gaze past everything. Under the red trimmed moustache the fine lips, +drawn at the corners, seemed stiffened into a smile of good-natured +subtle raillery. The fingers of the small hands covered with red hairs +were bent inward, and the nails were dyed red. + +Lukáshka had not yet dressed. He was wet. His neck was redder and his +eyes brighter than usual, his broad jaws twitched, and from his healthy +body a hardly perceptible steam rose in the fresh morning air. + +“He too was a man!” he muttered, evidently admiring the corpse. + +“Yes, if you had fallen into his hands you would have had short +shrift,” said one of the Cossacks. + +The Angel of Silence had taken wing. The Cossacks began bustling about +and talking. Two of them went to cut brushwood for a shelter, others +strolled towards the cordon. Luke and Nazárka ran to get ready to go to +the village. + +Half an hour later they were both on their way homewards, talking +incessantly and almost running through the dense woods which separated +the Térek from the village. + +“Mind, don’t tell her I sent you, but just go and find out if her +husband is at home,” Luke was saying in his shrill voice. + +“And I’ll go round to Yámka too,” said the devoted Nazárka. “We’ll have +a spree, shall we?” + +“When should we have one if not today?” replied Luke. + +When they reached the village the two Cossacks drank, and lay down to +sleep till evening. + + + + + Chapter X + + +On the third day after the events above described, two companies of a +Caucasian infantry regiment arrived at the Cossack village of +Novomlínsk. The horses had been unharnessed and the companies’ wagons +were standing in the square. The cooks had dug a pit, and with logs +gathered from various yards (where they had not been sufficiently +securely stored) were now cooking the food; the pay-sergeants were +settling accounts with the soldiers. The Service Corps men were driving +piles in the ground to which to tie the horses, and the quartermasters +were going about the streets just as if they were at home, showing +officers and men to their quarters. Here were green ammunition boxes in +a line, the company’s carts, horses, and cauldrons in which buckwheat +porridge was being cooked. + +Here were the captain and the lieutenant and the sergeant-major, Onisim +Mikháylovich, and all this was in the Cossack village where it was +reported that the companies were ordered to take up their quarters: +therefore they were at home here. + +But why they were stationed there, who the Cossacks were, and whether +they wanted the troops to be there, and whether they were Old Believers +or not—was all quite immaterial. Having received their pay and been +dismissed, tired out and covered with dust, the soldiers noisily and in +disorder, like a swarm of bees about to settle, spread over the squares +and streets. + +Quite regardless of the Cossacks’ ill will, chattering merrily and with +their muskets clinking, by twos and threes they entered the huts and +hung up their accoutrements, unpacked their bags, and bantered the +women. At their favourite spot, round the porridge-cauldrons, a large +group of soldiers assembled and with little pipes between their teeth +they gazed, now at the smoke which rose into the hot sky, becoming +visible when it thickened into white clouds as it rose, and now at the +camp fires which were quivering in the pure air like molten glass, and +bantered and made fun of the Cossack men and women because they do not +live at all like Russians. In all the yards one could see soldiers and +hear their laughter and the exasperated and shrill cries of Cossack +women defending their houses and refusing to give the soldiers water or +cooking utensils. Little boys and girls, clinging to their mothers and +to each other, followed all the movements of the troopers (never before +seen by them) with frightened curiosity, or ran after them at a +respectful distance. + +The old Cossacks came out silently and dismally and sat on the earthen +embankments of their huts, and watched the soldiers’ activity with an +air of leaving it all to the will of God without understanding what +would come of it. + +Olénin, who had joined the Caucasian Army as a cadet three months +before, was quartered in one of the best houses in the village, the +house of the cornet, Elias Vasílich—that is to say at Granny Ulítka’s. + +“Goodness knows what it will be like, Dmítri Andréich,” said the +panting Vanyúsha to Olénin, who, dressed in a Circassian coat and +mounted on a Kabardá horse which he had bought in Gróznoe, was after a +five-hours’ march gaily entering the yard of the quarters assigned to +him. + +“Why, what’s the matter?” he asked, caressing his horse and looking +merrily at the perspiring, dishevelled, and worried Vanyúsha, who had +arrived with the baggage wagons and was unpacking. + +Olénin looked quite a different man. In place of his clean-shaven lips +and chin he had a youthful moustache and a small beard. Instead of a +sallow complexion, the result of nights turned into day, his cheeks, +his forehead, and the skin behind his ears were now red with healthy +sunburn. In place of a clean new black suit he wore a dirty white +Circassian coat with a deeply pleated skirt, and he bore arms. Instead +of a freshly starched collar, his neck was tightly clasped by the red +band of his silk _beshmet_. He wore Circassian dress but did not wear +it well, and anyone would have known him for a Russian and not a Tartar +brave. It was the thing—but not the real thing. But for all that, his +whole person breathed health, joy, and satisfaction. + +“Yes, it seems funny to you,” said Vanyúsha, “but just try to talk to +these people yourself: they set themselves against one and there’s an +end of it. You can’t get as much as a word out of them.” Vanyúsha +angrily threw down a pail on the threshold. “Somehow they don’t seem +like Russians.” + +“You should speak to the Chief of the Village!” + +“But I don’t know where he lives,” said Vanyúsha in an offended tone. + +“Who has upset you so?” asked Olénin, looking round. + +“The devil only knows. Faugh! There is no real master here. They say he +has gone to some kind of _kriga_, and the old woman is a real devil. +God preserve us!” answered Vanyúsha, putting his hands to his head. +“How we shall live here I don’t know. They are worse than Tartars, I do +declare—though they consider themselves Christians! A Tartar is bad +enough, but all the same he is more noble. Gone to the _kriga_ indeed! +What this _kriga_ they have invented is, I don’t know!” concluded +Vanyúsha, and turned aside. + +“It’s not as it is in the serfs’ quarters at home, eh?” chaffed Olénin +without dismounting. + +“Please sir, may I have your horse?” said Vanyúsha, evidently perplexed +by this new order of things but resigning himself to his fate. + +“So a Tartar is more noble, eh, Vanyúsha?” repeated Olénin, dismounting +and slapping the saddle. + +“Yes, you’re laughing! You think it funny,” muttered Vanyúsha angrily. + +“Come, don’t be angry, Vanyúsha,” replied Olénin, still smiling. “Wait +a minute, I’ll go and speak to the people of the house; you’ll see I +shall arrange everything. You don’t know what a jolly life we shall +have here. Only don’t get upset.” + +Vanyúsha did not answer. Screwing up his eyes he looked contemptuously +after his master, and shook his head. Vanyúsha regarded Olénin as only +his master, and Olénin regarded Vanyúsha as only his servant; and they +would both have been much surprised if anyone had told them that they +were friends, as they really were without knowing it themselves. +Vanyúsha had been taken into his proprietor’s house when he was only +eleven and when Olénin was the same age. When Olénin was fifteen he +gave Vanyúsha lessons for a time and taught him to read French, of +which the latter was inordinately proud; and when in specially good +spirits he still let off French words, always laughing stupidly when he +did so. + +Olénin ran up the steps of the porch and pushed open the door of the +hut. Maryánka, wearing nothing but a pink smock, as all Cossack women +do in the house, jumped away from the door, frightened, and pressing +herself against the wall covered the lower part of her face with the +broad sleeve of her Tartar smock. Having opened the door wider, Olénin +in the semi-darkness of the passage saw the whole tall, shapely figure +of the young Cossack girl. With the quick and eager curiosity of youth +he involuntarily noticed the firm maidenly form revealed by the fine +print smock, and the beautiful black eyes fixed on him with childlike +terror and wild curiosity. + +“This is _she_,” thought Olénin. “But there will be many others like +her” came at once into his head, and he opened the inner door. + +Old Granny Ulítka, also dressed only in a smock, was stooping with her +back turned to him, sweeping the floor. + + +“Good-day to you. Mother! I’ve come about my lodgings,” he began. + +The Cossack woman, without unbending, turned her severe but still +handsome face towards him. + +“What have you come here for? Want to mock at us, eh? I’ll teach you to +mock; may the black plague seize you!” she shouted, looking askance +from under her frowning brow at the new-comer. + +Olénin had at first imagined that the way-worn, gallant Caucasian Army +(of which he was a member) would be everywhere received joyfully, and +especially by the Cossacks, our comrades in the war; and he therefore +felt perplexed by this reception. Without losing presence of mind +however he tried to explain that he meant to pay for his lodgings, but +the old woman would not give him a hearing. + +“What have you come for? Who wants a pest like you, with your scraped +face? You just wait a bit; when the master returns he’ll show you your +place. I don’t want your dirty money! A likely thing—just as if we had +never seen any! You’ll stink the house out with your beastly tobacco +and want to put it right with money! Think we’ve never seen a pest! May +you be shot in your bowels and your heart!” shrieked the old woman in a +piercing voice, interrupting Olénin. + +“It seems Vanyúsha was right!” thought Olénin. “‘A Tartar would be +nobler’,” and followed by Granny Ulítka’s abuse he went out of the hut. +As he was leaving, Maryánka, still wearing only her pink smock, but +with her forehead covered down to her eyes by a white kerchief, +suddenly slipped out from the passage past him. Pattering rapidly down +the steps with her bare feet she ran from the porch, stopped, and +looking round hastily with laughing eyes at the young man, vanished +round the corner of the hut. + +Her firm youthful step, the untamed look of the eyes glistening from +under the white kerchief, and the firm stately build of the young +beauty, struck Olénin even more powerfully than before. “Yes, it must +be _she_,” he thought, and troubling his head still less about the +lodgings, he kept looking round at Maryánka as he approached Vanyúsha. + +“There you see, the girl too is quite savage, just like a wild filly!” +said Vanyúsha, who though still busy with the luggage wagon had now +cheered up a bit. “_La fame!_” he added in a loud triumphant voice and +burst out laughing. + + + + + Chapter XI + + +Towards evening the master of the house returned from his fishing, and +having learnt that the cadet would pay for the lodging, pacified the +old woman and satisfied Vanyúsha’s demands. + +Everything was arranged in the new quarters. Their hosts moved into the +winter hut and let their summer hut to the cadet for three rubles a +month. Olénin had something to eat and went to sleep. Towards evening +he woke up, washed and made himself tidy, dined, and having lit a +cigarette sat down by the window that looked onto the street. It was +cooler. The slanting shadow of the hut with its ornamental gables fell +across the dusty road and even bent upwards at the base of the wall of +the house opposite. The steep reed-thatched roof of that house shone in +the rays of the setting sun. The air grew fresher. Everything was +peaceful in the village. The soldiers had settled down and become +quiet. The herds had not yet been driven home and the people had not +returned from their work. + +Olénin’s lodging was situated almost at the end of the village. At rare +intervals, from somewhere far beyond the Térek in those parts whence +Olénin had just come (the Chéchen or the Kumýtsk plain), came muffled +sounds of firing. Olénin was feeling very well contented after three +months of bivouac life. His newly washed face was fresh and his +powerful body clean (an unaccustomed sensation after the campaign) and +in all his rested limbs he was conscious of a feeling of tranquillity +and strength. His mind, too, felt fresh and clear. He thought of the +campaign and of past dangers. He remembered that he had faced them no +worse than other men, and that he was accepted as a comrade among +valiant Caucasians. His Moscow recollections were left behind Heaven +knows how far! The old life was wiped out and a quite new life had +begun in which there were as yet no mistakes. Here as a new man among +new men he could gain a new and good reputation. He was conscious of a +youthful and unreasoning joy of life. Looking now out of the window at +the boys spinning their tops in the shadow of the house, now round his +neat new lodging, he thought how pleasantly he would settle down to +this new Cossack village life. Now and then he glanced at the mountains +and the blue sky, and an appreciation of the solemn grandeur of nature +mingled with his reminiscences and dreams. His new life had begun, not +as he imagined it would when he left Moscow, but unexpectedly well. +“The mountains, the mountains, the mountains!” they permeated all his +thoughts and feelings. + +“He’s kissed his dog and licked the jug! ... Daddy Eróshka has kissed +his dog!” suddenly the little Cossacks who had been spinning their tops +under the window shouted, looking towards the side street. “He’s drunk +his bitch, and his dagger!” shouted the boys, crowding together and +stepping backwards. + +These shouts were addressed to Daddy Eróshka, who with his gun on his +shoulder and some pheasants hanging at his girdle was returning from +his shooting expedition. + +“I have done wrong, lads, I have!” he said, vigorously swinging his +arms and looking up at the windows on both sides of the street. “I have +drunk the bitch; it was wrong,” he repeated, evidently vexed but +pretending not to care. + +Olénin was surprised by the boys’ behavior towards the old hunter, but +was still more struck by the expressive, intelligent face and the +powerful build of the man whom they called Daddy Eróshka. + +“Here Daddy, here Cossack!” he called. “Come here!” + +The old man looked into the window and stopped. + +“Good evening, good man,” he said, lifting his little cap off his +cropped head. + +“Good evening, good man,” replied Olénin. “What is it the youngsters +are shouting at you?” + +Daddy Eróshka came up to the window. “Why, they’re teasing the old man. +No matter, I like it. Let them joke about their old daddy,” he said +with those firm musical intonations with which old and venerable people +speak. “Are you an army commander?” he added. + +“No, I am a cadet. But where did you kill those pheasants?” asked +Olénin. + +“I dispatched these three hens in the forest,” answered the old man, +turning his broad back towards the window to show the hen pheasants +which were hanging with their heads tucked into his belt and staining +his coat with blood. “Haven’t you seen any?” he asked. “Take a brace if +you like! Here you are,” and he handed two of the pheasants in at the +window. “Are you a sportsman yourself?” he asked. + +“I am. During the campaign I killed four myself.” + +“Four? What a lot!” said the old man sarcastically. “And are you a +drinker? Do you drink _chikhir?_” + +“Why not? I like a drink.” + +“Ah, I see you are a trump! We shall be _kunaks_, you and I,” said +Daddy Eróshka. + +“Step in,” said Olénin. “We’ll have a drop of _chikhir_.” + +“I might as well,” said the old man, “but take the pheasants.” The old +man’s face showed that he liked the cadet. He had seen at once that he +could get free drinks from him, and that therefore it would be all +right to give him a brace of pheasants. + +Soon Daddy Eróshka’s figure appeared in the doorway of the hut, and it +was only then that Olénin became fully conscious of the enormous size +and sturdy build of this man, whose red-brown face with its perfectly +white broad beard was all furrowed by deep lines produced by age and +toil. For an old man, the muscles of his legs, arms, and shoulders were +quite exceptionally large and prominent. There were deep scars on his +head under the short-cropped hair. His thick sinewy neck was covered +with deep intersecting folds like a bull’s. His horny hands were +bruised and scratched. He stepped lightly and easily over the +threshold, unslung his gun and placed it in a corner, and casting a +rapid glance round the room noted the value of the goods and chattels +deposited in the hut, and with out-turned toes stepped softly, in his +sandals of raw hide, into the middle of the room. He brought with him a +penetrating but not unpleasant smell of _chikhir_ wine, vodka, +gunpowder, and congealed blood. + +Daddy Eróshka bowed down before the icons, smoothed his beard, and +approaching Olénin held out his thick brown hand. “_Koshkildy_,” said +he; “That is Tartar for ‘Good-day’—‘Peace be unto you,’ it means in +their tongue.” + +“_Koshkildy_, I know,” answered Olénin, shaking hands. + +“Eh, but you don’t, you won’t know the right order! Fool!” said Daddy +Eróshka, shaking his head reproachfully. “If anyone says ‘_Koshkildy_’ +to you, you must say ‘_Allah rasi bo sun_,’ that is, ‘God save you.’ +That’s the way, my dear fellow, and not ‘_Koshkildy_.’ But I’ll teach +you all about it. We had a fellow here, Elias Mósevich, one of your +Russians, he and I were _kunaks_. He was a trump, a drunkard, a thief, +a sportsman—and what a sportsman! I taught him everything.” + +“And what will you teach me?” asked Olénin, who was becoming more and +more interested in the old man. + +“I’ll take you hunting and teach you to fish. I’ll show you Chéchens +and find a girl for you, if you like—even that! That’s the sort I am! +I’m a wag!”—and the old man laughed. “I’ll sit down. I’m tired. +_Karga?_” he added inquiringly. + +“And what does ‘_Karga_’ mean?” asked Olénin. + +“Why, that means ‘All right’ in Georgian. But I say it just so. It is a +way I have, it’s my favourite word. _Karga_, _Karga_. I say it just so; +in fun I mean. Well, lad, won’t you order the _chikhir?_ You’ve got an +orderly, haven’t you?” + +“Yes.” + +“Hey, Iván!” shouted the old man. “All your soldiers are Iváns. Is +yours Iván?” + +“True enough, his name is Iván—Vanyúsha. Here Vanyúsha! Please get some +_chikhir_ from our landlady and bring it here.” + +“Iván or Vanyúsha, that’s all one. Why are all your soldiers Iváns? +Iván, old fellow,” said the old man, “you tell them to give you some +from the barrel they have begun. They have the best _chikhir_ in the +village. But don’t give more than thirty kopeks for the quart, mind, +because that witch would be only too glad.... Our people are anathema +people; stupid people,” Daddy Eróshka continued in a confidential tone +after Vanyúsha had gone out. “They do not look upon you as on men, you +are worse than a Tartar in their eyes. ‘Worldly Russians’ they say. But +as for me, though you are a soldier you are still a man, and have a +soul in you. Isn’t that right? Elias Mósevich was a soldier, yet what a +treasure of a man he was! Isn’t that so, my dear fellow? That’s why our +people don’t like me; but I don’t care! I’m a merry fellow, and I like +everybody. I’m Eróshka; yes, my dear fellow.” + +And the old Cossack patted the young man affectionately on the +shoulder. + + + + + Chapter XII + + +Vanyúsha, who meanwhile had finished his housekeeping arrangements and +had even been shaved by the company’s barber and had pulled his +trousers out of his high boots as a sign that the company was stationed +in comfortable quarters, was in excellent spirits. He looked +attentively but not benevolently at Eróshka, as at a wild beast he had +never seen before, shook his head at the floor which the old man had +dirtied and, having taken two bottles from under a bench, went to the +landlady. + +“Good evening, kind people,” he said, having made up his mind to be +very gentle. “My master has sent me to get some _chikhir_. Will you +draw some for me, good folk?” + +The old woman gave no answer. The girl, who was arranging the kerchief +on her head before a little Tartar mirror, looked round at Vanyúsha in +silence. + +“I’ll pay money for it, honoured people,” said Vanyúsha, jingling the +coppers in his pocket. “Be kind to us and we, too will be kind to you,” +he added. + +“How much?” asked the old woman abruptly. “A quart.” + +“Go, my own, draw some for them,” said Granny Ulítka to her daughter. +“Take it from the cask that’s begun, my precious.” + +The girl took the keys and a decanter and went out of the hut with +Vanyúsha. + +“Tell me, who is that young woman?” asked Olénin, pointing to Maryánka, +who was passing the window. The old man winked and nudged the young man +with his elbow. + +“Wait a bit,” said he and reached out of the window. “Khm,” he coughed, +and bellowed, “Maryánka dear. Hallo, Maryánka, my girlie, won’t you +love me, darling? I’m a wag,” he added in a whisper to Olénin. The +girl, not turning her head and swinging her arms regularly and +vigorously, passed the window with the peculiarly smart and bold gait +of a Cossack woman and only turned her dark shaded eyes slowly towards +the old man. + +“Love me and you’ll be happy,” shouted Eróshka, winking, and he looked +questioningly at the cadet. + +“I’m a fine fellow, I’m a wag!” he added. “She’s a regular queen, that +girl. Eh?” + +“She is lovely,” said Olénin. “Call her here!” + +“No, no,” said the old man. “For that one a match is being arranged +with Lukáshka, Luke, a fine Cossack, a brave, who killed an _abrek_ the +other day. I’ll find you a better one. I’ll find you one that will be +all dressed up in silk and silver. Once I’ve said it I’ll do it. I’ll +get you a regular beauty!” + +“You, an old man—and say such things,” replied Olénin. “Why, it’s a +sin!” + +“A sin? Where’s the sin?” said the old man emphatically. “A sin to look +at a nice girl? A sin to have some fun with her? Or is it a sin to love +her? Is that so in your parts? ... No, my dear fellow, it’s not a sin, +it’s salvation! God made you and God made the girl too. He made it all; +so it is no sin to look at a nice girl. That’s what she was made for; +to be loved and to give joy. That’s how I judge it, my good fellow.” + +Having crossed the yard and entered a cool dark storeroom filled with +barrels, Maryánka went up to one of them and repeating the usual prayer +plunged a dipper into it. Vanyúsha standing in the doorway smiled as he +looked at her. He thought it very funny that she had only a smock on, +close-fitting behind and tucked up in front, and still funnier that she +wore a necklace of silver coins. He thought this quite un-Russian and +that they would all laugh in the serfs’ quarters at home if they saw a +girl like that. “_La fille comme c’est tres bien_, for a change,” he +thought. “I’ll tell that to my master.” + +“What are you standing in the light for, you devil!” the girl suddenly +shouted. “Why don’t you pass me the decanter!” + +Having filled the decanter with cool red wine, Maryánka handed it to +Vanyúsha. + +“Give the money to Mother,” she said, pushing away the hand in which he +held the money. + +Vanyúsha laughed. + +“Why are you so cross, little dear?” he said good-naturedly, +irresolutely shuffling with his feet while the girl was covering the +barrel. + +She began to laugh. + +“And you! Are you kind?” + +“We, my master and I, are very kind,” Vanyúsha answered decidedly. “We +are so kind that wherever we have stayed our hosts were always very +grateful. It’s because he’s generous.” + +The girl stood listening. + +“And is your master married?” she asked. + +“No. The master is young and unmarried, because noble gentlemen can +never marry young,” said Vanyúsha didactically. + +“A likely thing! See what a fed-up buffalo he is—and too young to +marry! Is he the chief of you all?” she asked. + +“My master is a cadet; that means he’s not yet an officer, but he’s +more important than a general—he’s an important man! Because not only +our colonel, but the Tsar himself, knows him,” proudly explained +Vanyúsha. “We are not like those other beggars in the line regiment, +and our papa himself was a Senator. He had more than a thousand serfs, +all his own, and they send us a thousand rubles at a time. That’s why +everyone likes us. Another may be a captain but have no money. What’s +the use of that?” + +“Go away. I’ll lock up,” said the girl, interrupting him. + +Vanyúsha brought Olénin the wine and announced that “_La fille c’est +tres joulie_,” and, laughing stupidly, at once went out. + + + + + Chapter XIII + + +Meanwhile the tattoo had sounded in the village square. The people had +returned from their work. The herd lowed as in clouds of golden dust it +crowded at the village gate. The girls and the women hurried through +the streets and yards, turning in their cattle. The sun had quite +hidden itself behind the distant snowy peaks. One pale bluish shadow +spread over land and sky. Above the darkened gardens stars just +discernible were kindling, and the sounds were gradually hushed in the +village. The cattle having been attended to and left for the night, the +women came out and gathered at the corners of the streets and, cracking +sunflower seeds with their teeth, settled down on the earthen +embankments of the houses. Later on Maryánka, having finished milking +the buffalo and the other two cows, also joined one of these groups. + +The group consisted of several women and girls and one old Cossack man. + +They were talking about the _abrek_ who had been killed. + +The Cossack was narrating and the women questioning him. + +“I expect he’ll get a handsome reward,” said one of the women. + +“Of course. It’s said that they’ll send him a cross.” + +“Mósev did try to wrong him. Took the gun away from him, but the +authorities at Kizlyár heard of it.” + +“A mean creature that Mósev is!” + +“They say Lukáshka has come home,” remarked one of the girls. + +“He and Nazárka are merry-making at Yámka’s.” (Yámka was an unmarried, +disreputable Cossack woman who kept an illicit pot-house.) “I heard say +they had drunk half a pailful.” + +“What luck that Snatcher has,” somebody remarked. “A real snatcher. But +there’s no denying he’s a fine lad, smart enough for anything, a +right-minded lad! His father was just such another. Daddy Kiryák was: +he takes after his father. When he was killed the whole village howled. +Look, there they are,” added the speaker, pointing to the Cossacks who +were coming down the street towards them. + +“And Ergushóv has managed to come along with them too! The drunkard!” + +Lukáshka, Nazárka, and Ergushóv, having emptied half a pail of vodka, +were coming towards the girls. The faces of all three, but especially +that of the old Cossack, were redder than usual. Ergushóv was reeling +and kept laughing and nudging Nazárka in the ribs. + +“Why are you not singing?” he shouted to the girls. “Sing to our +merry-making, I tell you!” + +They were welcomed with the words, “Had a good day? Had a good day?” + +“Why sing? It’s not a holiday,” said one of the women. “You’re tight, +so you go and sing.” + +Ergushóv roared with laughter and nudged Nazárka. “You’d better sing. +And I’ll begin too. I’m clever, I tell you.” + +“Are you asleep, fair ones?” said Nazárka. “We’ve come from the cordon +to drink your health. We’ve already drunk Lukáshka’s health.” + +Lukáshka, when he reached the group, slowly raised his cap and stopped +in front of the girls. His broad cheekbones and neck were red. He stood +and spoke softly and sedately, but in his tranquillity and sedateness +there was more of animation and strength than in all Nazárka’s +loquacity and bustle. He reminded one of a playful colt that with a +snort and a flourish of its tail suddenly stops short and stands as +though nailed to the ground with all four feet. Lukáshka stood quietly +in front of the girls, his eyes laughed, and he spoke but little as he +glanced now at his drunken companions and now at the girls. When +Maryánka joined the group he raised his cap with a firm deliberate +movement, moved out of her way and then stepped in front of her with +one foot a little forward and with his thumbs in his belt, fingering +his dagger. Maryánka answered his greeting with a leisurely bow of her +head, settled down on the earth-bank, and took some seeds out of the +bosom of her smock. Lukáshka, keeping his eyes fixed on Maryánka, +slowly cracked seeds and spat out the shells. All were quiet when +Maryánka joined the group. + +“Have you come for long?” asked a woman, breaking the silence. + +“Till tomorrow morning,” quietly replied Lukáshka. + +“Well, God grant you get something good,” said the Cossack; “I’m glad +of it, as I’ve just been saying.” + +“And I say so too,” put in the tipsy Ergushóv, laughing. “What a lot of +visitors have come,” he added, pointing to a soldier who was passing +by. “The soldiers’ vodka is good—I like it.” + +“They’ve sent three of the devils to us,” said one of the women. +“Grandad went to the village Elders, but they say nothing can be done.” + +“Ah, ha! Have you met with trouble?” said Ergushóv. + +“I expect they have smoked you out with their tobacco?” asked another +woman. “Smoke as much as you like in the yard, I say, but we won’t +allow it inside the hut. Not if the Elder himself comes, I won’t allow +it. Besides, they may rob you. He’s not quartered any of them on +himself, no fear, that devil’s son of an Elder.” + +“You don’t like it?” Ergushóv began again. + +“And I’ve also heard say that the girls will have to make the soldiers’ +beds and offer them _chikhir_ and honey,” said Nazárka, putting one +foot forward and tilting his cap like Lukáshka. + +Ergushóv burst into a roar of laughter, and seizing the girl nearest to +him, he embraced her. “I tell you true.” + +“Now then, you black pitch!” squealed the girl, “I’ll tell your old +woman.” + +“Tell her,” shouted he. “That’s quite right what Nazárka says; a +circular has been sent round. He can read, you know. Quite true!” And +he began embracing the next girl. + +“What are you up to, you beast?” squealed the rosy, round-faced +Ústenka, laughing and lifting her arm to hit him. + +The Cossack stepped aside and nearly fell. + +“There, they say girls have no strength, and you nearly killed me.” + +“Get away, you black pitch, what devil has brought you from the +cordon?” said Ústenka, and turning away from him she again burst out +laughing. “You were asleep and missed the _abrek_, didn’t you? Suppose +he had done for you it would have been all the better.” + +“You’d have howled, I expect,” said Nazárka, laughing. + +“Howled! A likely thing.” + +“Just look, she doesn’t care. She’d howl, Nazárka, eh? Would she?” said +Ergushóv. + +Lukáshka all this time had stood silently looking at Maryánka. His gaze +evidently confused the girl. + +“Well, Maryánka! I hear they’ve quartered one of the chiefs on you?” he +said, drawing nearer. + +Maryánka, as was her wont, waited before she replied, and slowly +raising her eyes looked at the Cossack. Lukáshka’s eyes were laughing +as if something special, apart from what was said, was taking place +between himself and the girl. + +“Yes, it’s all right for them as they have two huts,” replied an old +woman on Maryánka’s behalf, “but at Fómushkin’s now they also have one +of the chiefs quartered on them and they say one whole corner is packed +full with his things, and the family have no room left. Was such a +thing ever heard of as that they should turn a whole horde loose in the +village?” she said. “And what the plague are they going to do here?” + +“I’ve heard say they’ll build a bridge across the Térek,” said one of +the girls. + +“And I’ve been told that they will dig a pit to put the girls in +because they don’t love the lads,” said Nazárka, approaching Ústenka; +and he again made a whimsical gesture which set everybody laughing, and +Ergushóv, passing by Maryánka, who was next in turn, began to embrace +an old woman. + +“Why don’t you hug Maryánka? You should do it to each in turn,” said +Nazárka. + +“No, my old one is sweeter,” shouted the Cossack, kissing the +struggling old woman. + +“You’ll throttle me,” she screamed, laughing. + +The tramp of regular footsteps at the other end of the street +interrupted their laughter. Three soldiers in their cloaks, with their +muskets on their shoulders, were marching in step to relieve guard by +the ammunition wagon. + +The corporal, an old cavalry man, looked angrily at the Cossacks and +led his men straight along the road where Lukáshka and Nazárka were +standing, so that they should have to get out of the way. Nazárka +moved, but Lukáshka only screwed up his eyes and turned his broad back +without moving from his place. + +“People are standing here, so you go round,” he muttered, half turning +his head and tossing it contemptuously in the direction of the +soldiers. + +The soldiers passed by in silence, keeping step regularly along the +dusty road. + +Maryánka began laughing and all the other girls chimed in. + +“What swells!” said Nazárka, “Just like long-skirted choristers,” and +he walked a few steps down the road imitating the soldiers. + +Again everyone broke into peals of laughter. + +Lukáshka came slowly up to Maryánka. + +“And where have you put up the chief?” he asked. + +Maryánka thought for a moment. + +“We’ve let him have the new hut,” she said. + +“And is he old or young,” asked Lukáshka, sitting down beside her. + +“Do you think I’ve asked?” answered the girl. “I went to get him some +_chikhir_ and saw him sitting at the window with Daddy Eróshka. +Red-headed he seemed. They’ve brought a whole cartload of things.” + +And she dropped her eyes. + +“Oh, how glad I am that I got leave from the cordon!” said Lukáshka, +moving closer to the girl and looking straight in her eyes all the +time. + +“And have you come for long?” asked Maryánka, smiling slightly. + +“Till the morning. Give me some sunflower seeds,” he said, holding out +his hand. + +Maryánka now smiled outright and unfastened the neckband of her smock. + +“Don’t take them all,” she said. + +“Really I felt so dull all the time without you, I swear I did,” he +said in a calm, restrained whisper, helping himself to some seeds out +of the bosom of the girl’s smock, and stooping still closer over her he +continued with laughing eyes to talk to her in low tones. + +“I won’t come, I tell you,” Maryánka suddenly said aloud, leaning away +from him. + +“No really ... what I wanted to say to you, ...” whispered Lukáshka. +“By the Heavens! Do come!” + +Maryánka shook her head, but did so with a smile. + +“Nursey Maryánka! Hallo Nursey! Mammy is calling! Supper time!” shouted +Maryánka’s little brother, running towards the group. + +“I’m coming,” replied the girl. “Go, my dear, go alone—I’ll come in a +minute.” + +Lukáshka rose and raised his cap. + +“I expect I had better go home too, that will be best,” he said, trying +to appear unconcerned but hardly able to repress a smile, and he +disappeared behind the corner of the house. + +Meanwhile night had entirely enveloped the village. Bright stars were +scattered over the dark sky. The streets became dark and empty. Nazárka +remained with the women on the earth-bank and their laughter was still +heard, but Lukáshka, having slowly moved away from the girls, crouched +down like a cat and then suddenly started running lightly, holding his +dagger to steady it: not homeward, however, but towards the cornet’s +house. Having passed two streets he turned into a lane and lifting the +skirt of his coat sat down on the ground in the shadow of a fence. “A +regular cornet’s daughter!” he thought about Maryánka. “Won’t even have +a lark—the devil! But just wait a bit.” + +The approaching footsteps of a woman attracted his attention. He began +listening, and laughed all by himself. Maryánka with bowed head, +striking the pales of the fences with a switch, was walking with rapid +regular strides straight towards him. Lukáshka rose. Maryánka started +and stopped. + +“What an accursed devil! You frightened me! So you have not gone home?” +she said, and laughed aloud. + +Lukáshka put one arm round her and with the other hand raised her face. +“What I wanted to tell you, by Heaven!” his voice trembled and broke. + +“What are you talking of, at night time!” answered Maryánka. “Mother is +waiting for me, and you’d better go to your sweetheart.” + +And freeing herself from his arms she ran away a few steps. When she +had reached the wattle fence of her home she stopped and turned to the +Cossack who was running beside her and still trying to persuade her to +stay a while with him. + +“Well, what do you want to say, midnight-gadabout?” and she again began +laughing. + +“Don’t laugh at me, Maryánka! By the Heaven! Well, what if I have a +sweetheart? May the devil take her! Only say the word and now I’ll love +you—I’ll do anything you wish. Here they are!” and he jingled the money +in his pocket. “Now we can live splendidly. Others have pleasures, and +I? I get no pleasure from you, Maryánka dear!” + +The girl did not answer. She stood before him breaking her switch into +little bits with a rapid movement of her fingers. + +Lukáshka suddenly clenched his teeth and fists. + +“And why keep waiting and waiting? Don’t I love you, darling? You can +do what you like with me,” said he suddenly, frowning angrily and +seizing both her hands. + +The calm expression of Maryánka’s face and voice did not change. + +“Don’t bluster, Lukáshka, but listen to me,” she answered, not pulling +away her hands but holding the Cossack at arm’s length. “It’s true I am +a girl, but you listen to me! It does not depend on me, but if you love +me I’ll tell you this. Let go my hands, I’ll tell you without.—I’ll +marry you, but you’ll never get any nonsense from me,” said Maryánka +without turning her face. + +“What, you’ll marry me? Marriage does not depend on us. Love me +yourself, Maryánka dear,” said Lukáshka, from sullen and furious +becoming again gentle, submissive, and tender, and smiling as he looked +closely into her eyes. + +Maryánka clung to him and kissed him firmly on the lips. + +“Brother dear!” she whispered, pressing him convulsively to her. Then, +suddenly tearing herself away, she ran into the gate of her house +without looking round. + +In spite of the Cossack’s entreaties to wait another minute to hear +what he had to say, Maryánka did not stop. + +“Go,” she cried, “you’ll be seen! I do believe that devil, our lodger, +is walking about the yard.” + +“Cornet’s daughter,” thought Lukáshka. “She will marry me. Marriage is +all very well, but you just love me!” + +He found Nazárka at Yámka’s house, and after having a spree with him +went to Dunáyka’s house, where, in spite of her not being faithful to +him, he spent the night. + + + + + Chapter XIV + + +It was quite true that Olénin had been walking about the yard when +Maryánka entered the gate, and had heard her say, “That devil, our +lodger, is walking about.” He had spent that evening with Daddy Eróshka +in the porch of his new lodging. He had had a table, a samovar, wine, +and a candle brought out, and over a cup of tea and a cigar he listened +to the tales the old man told seated on the threshold at his feet. +Though the air was still, the candle dripped and flickered: now +lighting up the post of the porch, now the table and crockery, now the +cropped white head of the old man. Moths circled round the flame and, +shedding the dust of their wings, fluttered on the table and in the +glasses, flew into the candle flame, and disappeared in the black space +beyond. Olénin and Eróshka had emptied five bottles of _chikhir_. +Eróshka filled the glasses every time, offering one to Olénin, drinking +his health, and talking untiringly. He told of Cossack life in the old +days: of his father, “The Broad”, who alone had carried on his back a +boar’s carcass weighing three hundredweight, and drank two pails of +_chikhir_ at one sitting. He told of his own days and his chum Gírchik, +with whom during the plague he used to smuggle felt cloaks across the +Térek. He told how one morning he had killed two deer, and about his +“little soul” who used to run to him at the cordon at night. He told +all this so eloquently and picturesquely that Olénin did not notice how +time passed. “Ah yes, my dear fellow, you did not know me in my golden +days; then I’d have shown you things. Today it’s ‘Eróshka licks the +jug’, but then Eróshka was famous in the whole regiment. Whose was the +finest horse? Who had a Gurda sword? To whom should one go to get a +drink? With whom go on the spree? Who should be sent to the mountains +to kill Ahmet Khan? Why, always Eróshka! Whom did the girls love? +Always Eróshka had to answer for it. Because I was a real brave: a +drinker, a thief (I used to seize herds of horses in the mountains), a +singer; I was a master of every art! There are no Cossacks like that +nowadays. It’s disgusting to look at them. When they’re that high +(Eróshka held his hand three feet from the ground) they put on idiotic +boots and keep looking at them—that’s all the pleasure they know. Or +they’ll drink themselves foolish, not like men but all wrong. And who +was I? I was Eróshka, the thief; they knew me not only in this village +but up in the mountains. Tartar princes, my _kunaks_, used to come to +see me! I used to be everybody’s _kunak_. If he was a Tartar—with a +Tartar; an Armenian—with an Armenian; a soldier—with a soldier; an +officer—with an officer! I didn’t care as long as he was a drinker. He +says you should cleanse yourself from intercourse with the world, not +drink with soldiers, not eat with a Tartar.” + +“Who says all that?” asked Olénin. + +“Why, our teacher! But listen to a Mullah or a Tartar Cadi. He says, +‘You unbelieving Giaours, why do you eat pig?’ That shows that everyone +has his own law. But I think it’s all one. God has made everything for +the joy of man. There is no sin in any of it. Take example from an +animal. It lives in the Tartar’s reeds or in ours. Wherever it happens +to go, there is its home! Whatever God gives it, that it eats! But our +people say we have to lick red-hot plates in hell for that. And I think +it’s all a fraud,” he added after a pause. + +“What is a fraud?” asked Olénin. + +“Why, what the preachers say. We had an army captain in Chervlëna who +was my _kunak:_ a fine fellow just like me. He was killed in Chéchnya. +Well, he used to say that the preachers invent all that out of their +own heads. ‘When you die the grass will grow on your grave and that’s +all!’” The old man laughed. “He was a desperate fellow.” + +“And how old are you?” asked Olénin. + +“The Lord only knows! I must be about seventy. When a Tsaritsa reigned +in Russia I was no longer very small. So you can reckon it out. I must +be seventy.” + +“Yes you must, but you are still a fine fellow.” + +“Well, thank Heaven I am healthy, quite healthy, except that a woman, a +witch, has harmed me....” + +“How?” + +“Oh, just harmed me.” + +“And so when you die the grass will grow?” repeated Olénin. + +Eróshka evidently did not wish to express his thought clearly. He was +silent for a while. + +“And what did you think? Drink!” he shouted suddenly, smiling and +handing Olénin some wine. + + + + + Chapter XV + + +“Well, what was I saying?” he continued, trying to remember. “Yes, +that’s the sort of man I am. I am a hunter. There is no hunter to equal +me in the whole army. I will find and show you any animal and any bird, +and what and where. I know it all! I have dogs, and two guns, and nets, +and a screen and a hawk. I have everything, thank the Lord! If you are +not bragging but are a real sportsman, I’ll show you everything. Do you +know what a man I am? When I have found a track—I know the animal. I +know where he will lie down and where he’ll drink or wallow. I make +myself a perch and sit there all night watching. What’s the good of +staying at home? One only gets into mischief, gets drunk. And here +women come and chatter, and boys shout at me—enough to drive one mad + +“It’s a different matter when you go out at nightfall, choose yourself +a place, press down the reeds and sit there and stay waiting, like a +jolly fellow. One knows everything that goes on in the woods. One looks +up at the sky: the stars move, you look at them and find out from them +how the time goes. One looks round—the wood is rustling; one goes on +waiting, now there comes a crackling—a boar comes to rub himself; one +listens to hear the young eaglets screech and then the cocks give voice +in the village, or the geese. When you hear the geese you know it is +not yet midnight. And I know all about it! Or when a gun is fired +somewhere far away, thoughts come to me. One thinks, who is that +firing? Is it another Cossack like myself who has been watching for +some animal? And has he killed it? Or only wounded it so that now the +poor thing goes through the reeds smearing them with its blood all for +nothing? I don’t like that! Oh, how I dislike it! Why injure a beast? +You fool, you fool! Or one thinks, ‘Maybe an _abrek_ has killed some +silly little Cossack.’ All this passes through one’s mind. And once as +I sat watching by the river I saw a cradle floating down. It was sound +except for one corner which was broken off. Thoughts did come that +time! I thought some of your soldiers, the devils, must have got into a +Tartar village and seized the Chéchen women, and one of the devils has +killed the little one: taken it by its legs, and hit its head against a +wall. Don’t they do such things? Sh! Men have no souls! And thoughts +came to me that filled me with pity. I thought: they’ve thrown away the +cradle and driven the wife out, and her brave has taken his gun and +come across to our side to rob us. One watches and thinks. And when one +hears a litter breaking through the thicket, something begins to knock +inside one. Dear one, come this way! ‘They’ll scent me,’ one thinks; +and one sits and does not stir while one’s heart goes dun! dun! dun! +and simply lifts you. Once this spring a fine litter came near me, I +saw something black. ‘In the name of the Father and of the Son,’ and I +was just about to fire when she grunts to her pigs: ‘Danger, children,’ +she says, ‘there’s a man here,’ and off they all ran, breaking through +the bushes. And she had been so close I could almost have bitten her.” + +“How could a sow tell her brood that a man was there?” asked Olénin. + +“What do you think? You think the beast’s a fool? No, he is wiser than +a man though you do call him a pig! He knows everything. Take this for +instance. A man will pass along your track and not notice it; but a pig +as soon as it gets onto your track turns and runs at once: that shows +there is wisdom in him, since he scents your smell and you don’t. And +there is this to be said too: you wish to kill it and it wishes to go +about the woods alive. You have one law and it has another. It is a +pig, but it is no worse than you—it too is God’s creature. Ah, dear! +Man is foolish, foolish, foolish!” The old man repeated this several +times and then, letting his head drop, he sat thinking. + +Olénin also became thoughtful, and descending from the porch with his +hands behind his back began pacing up and down the yard. + +Eróshka, rousing himself, raised his head and began gazing intently at +the moths circling round the flickering flame of the candle and burning +themselves in it. + +“Fool, fool!” he said. “Where are you flying to? Fool, fool!” He rose +and with his thick fingers began to drive away the moths. + +“You’ll burn, little fool! Fly this way, there’s plenty of room.” He +spoke tenderly, trying to catch them delicately by their wings with his +thick fingers and then letting them fly again. “You are killing +yourself and I am sorry for you!” + +He sat a long time chattering and sipping out of the bottle. Olénin +paced up and down the yard. Suddenly he was struck by the sound of +whispering outside the gate. Involuntarily holding his breath, he heard +a woman’s laughter, a man’s voice, and the sound of a kiss. +Intentionally rustling the grass under his feet he crossed to the +opposite side of the yard, but after a while the wattle fence creaked. +A Cossack in a dark Circassian coat and a white sheepskin cap passed +along the other side of the fence (it was Luke), and a tall woman with +a white kerchief on her head went past Olénin. “You and I have nothing +to do with one another” was what Maryánka’s firm step gave him to +understand. He followed her with his eyes to the porch of the hut, and +he even saw her through the window take off her kerchief and sit down. +And suddenly a feeling of lonely depression and some vague longings and +hopes, and envy of someone or other, overcame the young man’s soul. + +The last lights had been put out in the huts. The last sounds had died +away in the village. The wattle fences and the cattle gleaming white in +the yards, the roofs of the houses and the stately poplars, all seemed +to be sleeping the labourers’ healthy peaceful sleep. Only the +incessant ringing voices of frogs from the damp distance reached the +young man. In the east the stars were growing fewer and fewer and +seemed to be melting in the increasing light, but overhead they were +denser and deeper than before. The old man was dozing with his head on +his hand. A cock crowed in the yard opposite, but Olénin still paced up +and down thinking of something. The sound of a song sung by several +voices reached him and he stepped up to the fence and listened. The +voices of several young Cossacks carolled a merry song, and one voice +was distinguishable among them all by its firm strength. + +“Do you know who is singing there?” said the old man, rousing himself. +“It is the Brave, Lukáshka. He has killed a Chéchen and now he +rejoices. And what is there to rejoice at? ... The fool, the fool!” + +“And have you ever killed people?” asked Olénin. + +“You devil!” shouted the old man. “What are you asking? One must not +talk so. It is a serious thing to destroy a human being ... Ah, a very +serious thing! Good-bye, my dear fellow. I’ve eaten my fill and am +drunk,” he said rising. “Shall I come tomorrow to go shooting?” + +“Yes, come!” + +“Mind, get up early; if you oversleep you will be fined!” + +“Never fear, I’ll be up before you,” answered Olénin. + +The old man left. The song ceased, but one could hear footsteps and +merry talk. A little later the singing broke out again but farther +away, and Eróshka’s loud voice chimed in with the other. “What people, +what a life!” thought Olénin with a sigh as he returned alone to his +hut. + + + + + Chapter XVI + + +Daddy Eróshka was a superannuated and solitary Cossack: twenty years +ago his wife had gone over to the Orthodox Church and run away from him +and married a Russian sergeant-major, and he had no children. He was +not bragging when he spoke of himself as having been the boldest +dare-devil in the village when he was young. Everybody in the regiment +knew of his old-time prowess. The death of more than one Russian, as +well as Chéchen, lay on his conscience. He used to go plundering in the +mountains, and robbed the Russians too; and he had twice been in +prison. The greater part of his life was spent in the forests, hunting. +There he lived for days on a crust of bread and drank nothing but +water. But on the other hand, when he was in the village he made merry +from morning to night. After leaving Olénin he slept for a couple of +hours and awoke before it was light. He lay on his bed thinking of the +man he had become acquainted with the evening before. Olénin’s +“simplicity” (simplicity in the sense of not grudging him a drink) +pleased him very much, and so did Olénin himself. He wondered why the +Russians were all “simple” and so rich, and why they were educated, and +yet knew nothing. He pondered on these questions and also considered +what he might get out of Olénin. + +Daddy Eróshka’s hut was of a good size and not old, but the absence of +a woman was very noticeable in it. Contrary to the usual cleanliness of +the Cossacks, the whole of this hut was filthy and exceedingly untidy. +A blood-stained coat had been thrown on the table, half a dough-cake +lay beside a plucked and mangled crow with which to feed the hawk. +Sandals of raw hide, a gun, a dagger, a little bag, wet clothes, and +sundry rags lay scattered on the benches. In a corner stood a tub with +stinking water, in which another pair of sandals were being steeped, +and near by was a gun and a hunting-screen. On the floor a net had been +thrown down and several dead pheasants lay there, while a hen tied by +its leg was walking about near the table pecking among the dirt. In the +unheated oven stood a broken pot with some kind of milky liquid. On the +top of the oven a falcon was screeching and trying to break the cord by +which it was tied, and a moulting hawk sat quietly on the edge of the +oven, looking askance at the hen and occasionally bowing its head to +right and left. Daddy Eróshka himself, in his shirt, lay on his back on +a short bed rigged up between the wall and the oven, with his strong +legs raised and his feet on the oven. He was picking with his thick +fingers at the scratches left on his hands by the hawk, which he was +accustomed to carry without wearing gloves. The whole room, especially +near the old man, was filled with that strong but not unpleasant +mixture of smells that he always carried about with him. + +“_Uyde-ma_, Daddy?” (Is Daddy in?) came through the window in a sharp +voice, which he at once recognized as Lukáshka’s. + +“_Uyde, Uyde, Uyde_. I am in!” shouted the old man. “Come in, neighbour +Mark, Luke Mark. Come to see Daddy? On your way to the cordon?” + +At the sound of his master’s shout the hawk flapped his wings and +pulled at his cord. + +The old man was fond of Lukáshka, who was the only man he excepted from +his general contempt for the younger generation of Cossacks. Besides +that, Lukáshka and his mother, as near neighbours, often gave the old +man wine, clotted cream, and other home produce which Eróshka did not +possess. Daddy Eróshka, who all his life had allowed himself to get +carried away, always explained his infatuations from a practical point +of view. “Well, why not?” he used to say to himself. “I’ll give them +some fresh meat, or a bird, and they won’t forget Daddy: they’ll +sometimes bring a cake or a piece of pie.” + +“Good morning, Mark! I am glad to see you,” shouted the old man +cheerfully, and quickly putting down his bare feet he jumped off his +bed and walked a step or two along the creaking floor, looked down at +his out-turned toes, and suddenly, amused by the appearance of his +feet, smiled, stamped with his bare heel on the ground, stamped again, +and then performed a funny dance-step. “That’s clever, eh?” he asked, +his small eyes glistening. Lukáshka smiled faintly. “Going back to the +cordon?” asked the old man. + +“I have brought the _chikhir_ I promised you when we were at the +cordon.” + +“May Christ save you!” said the old man, and he took up the extremely +wide trousers that were lying on the floor, and his _beshmet_, put them +on, fastened a strap round his waist, poured some water from an +earthenware pot over his hands, wiped them on the old trousers, +smoothed his beard with a bit of comb, and stopped in front of +Lukáshka. “Ready,” he said. + +Lukáshka fetched a cup, wiped it and filled it with wine, and then +handed it to the old man. + +“Your health! To the Father and the Son!” said the old man, accepting +the wine with solemnity. “May you have what you desire, may you always +be a hero, and obtain a cross.” + +Lukáshka also drank a little after repeating a prayer, and then put the +wine on the table. The old man rose and brought out some dried fish +which he laid on the threshold, where he beat it with a stick to make +it tender; then, having put it with his horny hands on a blue plate +(his only one), he placed it on the table. + +“I have all I want. I have victuals, thank God!” he said proudly. +“Well, and what of Mósev?” he added. + +Lukáshka, evidently wishing to know the old man’s opinion, told him how +the officer had taken the gun from him. + +“Never mind the gun,” said the old man. “If you don’t give the gun you +will get no reward.” + +“But they say, Daddy, it’s little reward a fellow gets when he is not +yet a mounted Cossack; and the gun is a fine one, a Crimean, worth +eighty rubles.” + +“Eh, let it go! I had a dispute like that with an officer, he wanted my +horse. ‘Give it me and you’ll be made a cornet,’ says he. I wouldn’t, +and I got nothing!” + +“Yes, Daddy, but you see I have to buy a horse; and they say you can’t +get one the other side of the river under fifty rubles, and mother has +not yet sold our wine.” + +“Eh, we didn’t bother,” said the old man; “when Daddy Eróshka was your +age he already stole herds of horses from the Nogáy folk and drove them +across the Térek. Sometimes we’d give a fine horse for a quart of vodka +or a cloak.” + +“Why so cheap?” asked Lukáshka. + +“You’re a fool, a fool, Mark,” said the old man contemptuously. “Why, +that’s what one steals for, so as not to be stingy! As for you, I +suppose you haven’t so much as seen how one drives off a herd of +horses? Why don’t you speak?” + +“What’s one to say, Daddy?” replied Lukáshka. “It seems we are not the +same sort of men as you were.” + +“You’re a fool, Mark, a fool! ‘Not the same sort of men!’” retorted the +old man, mimicking the Cossack lad. “I was not that sort of Cossack at +your age.” + +“How’s that?” asked Lukáshka. + +The old man shook his head contemptuously. + +“Daddy Eróshka was _simple;_ he did not grudge anything! That’s why I +was _kunak_ with all Chéchnya. A _kunak_ would come to visit me and I’d +make him drunk with vodka and make him happy and put him to sleep with +me, and when I went to see him I’d take him a present—a dagger! That’s +the way it is done, and not as you do nowadays: the only amusement lads +have now is to crack seeds and spit out the shells!” the old man +finished contemptuously, imitating the present-day Cossacks cracking +seeds and spitting out the shells. + +“Yes, I know,” said Lukáshka; “that’s so!” + +“If you wish to be a fellow of the right sort, be a brave and not a +peasant! Because even a peasant can buy a horse—pay the money and take +the horse.” + +They were silent for a while. + +“Well, of course it’s dull both in the village and the cordon, Daddy: +but there’s nowhere one can go for a bit of sport. All our fellows are +so timid. Take Nazárka. The other day when we went to the Tartar +village, Giréy Khan asked us to come to Nogáy to take some horses, but +no one went, and how was I to go alone?” + +“And what of Daddy? Do you think I am quite dried up? ... No, I’m not +dried up. Let me have a horse and I’ll be off to Nogáy at once.” + +“What’s the good of talking nonsense!” said Luke. “You’d better tell me +what to do about Giréy Khan. He says, ‘Only bring horses to the Térek, +and then even if you bring a whole stud I’ll find a place for them.’ +You see he’s also a shaven-headed Tartar—how’s one to believe him?” + +“You may trust Giréy Khan, all his kin were good people. His father too +was a faithful _kunak_. But listen to Daddy and I won’t teach you +wrong: make him take an oath, then it will be all right. And if you go +with him, have your pistol ready all the same, especially when it comes +to dividing up the horses. I was nearly killed that way once by a +Chéchen. I wanted ten rubles from him for a horse. Trusting is all +right, but don’t go to sleep without a gun.” Lukáshka listened +attentively to the old man. + +“I say, Daddy, have you any stone-break grass?” he asked after a pause. + +“No, I haven’t any, but I’ll teach you how to get it. You’re a good lad +and won’t forget the old man.... Shall I tell you?” + +“Tell me, Daddy.” + +“You know a tortoise? She’s a devil, the tortoise is!” + +“Of course I know!” + +“Find her nest and fence it round so that she can’t get in. Well, +she’ll come, go round it, and then will go off to find the stone-break +grass and will bring some along and destroy the fence. Anyhow next +morning come in good time, and where the fence is broken there you’ll +find the stone-break grass lying. Take it wherever you like. No lock +and no bar will be able to stop you.” + +“Have you tried it yourself, Daddy?” + +“As for trying, I have not tried it, but I was told of it by good +people. I used only one charm: that was to repeat the Pilgrim rhyme +when mounting my horse; and no one ever killed me!” + +“What is the Pilgrim rhyme, Daddy?” + +“What, don’t you know it? Oh, what people! You’re right to ask Daddy. +Well, listen, and repeat after me: + +“Hail! Ye, living in Sion, +This is your King, +Our steeds we shall sit on, +Sophonius is weeping. +Zacharias is speaking, +Father Pilgrim, +Mankind ever loving.” + + +“Kind ever loving,” the old man repeated. “Do you know it now? Try it.” + +Lukáshka laughed. + +“Come, Daddy, was it that that hindered their killing you? Maybe it +just happened so!” + +“You’ve grown too clever! You learn it all, and say it. It will do you +no harm. Well, suppose you have sung ‘Pilgrim’, it’s all right,” and +the old man himself began laughing. “But just one thing, Luke, don’t +you go to Nogáy!” + +“Why?” + +“Times have changed. You are not the same men. You’ve become rubbishy +Cossacks! And see how many Russians have come down on us! You’d get to +prison. Really, give it up! Just as if you could! Now Gírchik and I, we +used...” + +And the old man was about to begin one of his endless tales, but +Lukáshka glanced at the window and interrupted him. + +“It is quite light. Daddy. It’s time to be off. Look us up some day.” + +“May Christ save you! I’ll go to the officer; I promised to take him +out shooting. He seems a good fellow.” + + + + + Chapter XVII + + +From Eróshka’s hut Lukáshka went home. As he returned, the dewy mists +were rising from the ground and enveloped the village. In various +places the cattle, though out of sight, could be heard beginning to +stir. The cocks called to one another with increasing frequency and +insistence. The air was becoming more transparent, and the villagers +were getting up. Not till he was close to it could Lukáshka discern the +fence of his yard, all wet with dew, the porch of the hut, and the open +shed. From the misty yard he heard the sound of an axe chopping wood. +Lukáshka entered the hut. His mother was up, and stood at the oven +throwing wood into it. His little sister was still lying in bed asleep. + +“Well, Lukáshka, had enough holiday-making?” asked his mother softly. +“Where did you spend the night?” + +“I was in the village,” replied her son reluctantly, reaching for his +musket, which he drew from its cover and examined carefully. + +His mother swayed her head. + +Lukáshka poured a little gunpowder onto the pan, took out a little bag +from which he drew some empty cartridge cases which he began filling, +carefully plugging each one with a ball wrapped in a rag. Then, having +tested the loaded cartridges with his teeth and examined them, he put +down the bag. + +“I say, Mother, I told you the bags wanted mending; have they been +done?” he asked. + +“Oh yes, our dumb girl was mending something last night. Why, is it +time for you to be going back to the cordon? I haven’t seen anything of +you!” + +“Yes, as soon as I have got ready I shall have to go,” answered +Lukáshka, tying up the gunpowder. “And where is our dumb one? Outside?” + +“Chopping wood, I expect. She kept fretting for you. ‘I shall not see +him at all!’ she said. She puts her hand to her face like this, and +clicks her tongue and presses her hands to her heart as much as to +say—‘sorry.’ Shall I call her in? She understood all about the +_abrek_.” + +“Call her,” said Lukáshka. “And I had some tallow there; bring it: I +must grease my sword.” + +The old woman went out, and a few minutes later Lukáshka’s dumb sister +came up the creaking steps and entered the hut. She was six years older +than her brother and would have been extremely like him had it not been +for the dull and coarsely changeable expression (common to all deaf and +dumb people) of her face. She wore a coarse smock all patched; her feet +were bare and muddy, and on her head she had an old blue kerchief. Her +neck, arms, and face were sinewy like a peasant’s. Her clothing and her +whole appearance indicated that she always did the hard work of a man. +She brought in a heap of logs which she threw down by the oven. Then +she went up to her brother, and with a joyful smile which made her +whole face pucker up, touched him on the shoulder and began making +rapid signs to him with her hands, her face, and whole body. + +“That’s right, that’s right, Stëpka is a trump!” answered the brother, +nodding. “She’s fetched everything and mended everything, she’s a +trump! Here, take this for it!” He brought out two pieces of +gingerbread from his pocket and gave them to her. + +The dumb woman’s face flushed with pleasure, and she began making a +weird noise for joy. Having seized the gingerbread she began to +gesticulate still more rapidly, frequently pointing in one direction +and passing her thick finger over her eyebrows and her face. Lukáshka +understood her and kept nodding, while he smiled slightly. She was +telling him to give the girls dainties, and that the girls liked him, +and that one girl, Maryánka—the best of them all—loved him. She +indicated Maryánka by rapidly pointing in the direction of Maryánka’s +home and to her own eyebrows and face, and by smacking her lips and +swaying her head. “Loves” she expressed by pressing her hands to her +breast, kissing her hand, and pretending to embrace someone. Their +mother returned to the hut, and seeing what her dumb daughter was +saying, smiled and shook her head. Her daughter showed her the +gingerbread and again made the noise which expressed joy. + +“I told Ulítka the other day that I’d send a matchmaker to them,” said +the mother. “She took my words well.” + +Lukáshka looked silently at his mother. + +“But how about selling the wine, mother? I need a horse.” + +“I’ll cart it when I have time. I must get the barrels ready,” said the +mother, evidently not wishing her son to meddle in domestic matters. +“When you go out you’ll find a bag in the passage. I borrowed from the +neighbours and got something for you to take back to the cordon; or +shall I put it in your saddle-bag?” + +“All right,” answered Lukáshka. “And if Giréy Khan should come across +the river send him to me at the cordon, for I shan’t get leave again +for a long time now; I have some business with him.” + +He began to get ready to start. + +“I will send him on,” said the old woman. “It seems you have been +spreeing at Yámka’s all the time. I went out in the night to see the +cattle, and I think it was your voice I heard singing songs.” + +Lukáshka did not reply, but went out into the passage, threw the bags +over his shoulder, tucked up the skirts of his coat, took his musket, +and then stopped for a moment on the threshold. + +“Good-bye, mother!” he said as he closed the gate behind him. “Send me +a small barrel with Nazárka. I promised it to the lads, and he’ll call +for it.” + +“May Christ keep you, Lukáshka. God be with you! I’ll send you some, +some from the new barrel,” said the old woman, going to the fence: “But +listen,” she added, leaning over the fence. + +The Cossack stopped. + +“You’ve been making merry here; well, that’s all right. Why should not +a young man amuse himself? God has sent you luck and that’s good. But +now look out and mind, my son. Don’t you go and get into mischief. +Above all, satisfy your superiors: one has to! And I will sell the wine +and find money for a horse and will arrange a match with the girl for +you.” + +“All right, all right!” answered her son, frowning. + +His deaf sister shouted to attract his attention. She pointed to her +head and the palm of her hand, to indicate the shaved head of a +Chéchen. Then she frowned, and pretending to aim with a gun, she +shrieked and began rapidly humming and shaking her head. This meant +that Lukáshka should kill another Chéchen. + +Lukáshka understood. He smiled, and shifting the gun at his back under +his cloak stepped lightly and rapidly, and soon disappeared in the +thick mist. + +The old woman, having stood a little while at the gate, returned +silently to the hut and immediately began working. + + + + + Chapter XVIII + + +Lukasha returned to the cordon and at the same time Daddy Eróshka +whistled to his dogs and, climbing over his wattle fence, went to +Olénin’s lodging, passing by the back of the houses (he disliked +meeting women before going out hunting or shooting). He found Olénin +still asleep, and even Vanyúsha, though awake, was still in bed and +looking round the room considering whether it was not time to get up, +when Daddy Eróshka, gun on shoulder and in full hunter’s trappings, +opened the door. + +“A cudgel!” he shouted in his deep voice. “An alarm! The Chéchens are +upon us! Iván! Get the samovar ready for your master, and get up +yourself—quick,” cried the old man. “That’s our way, my good man! Why +even the girls are already up! Look out of the window. See, she’s going +for water and you’re still sleeping!” + +Olénin awoke and jumped up, feeling fresh and lighthearted at the sight +of the old man and at the sound of his voice. + +“Quick, Vanyúsha, quick!” he cried. + +“Is that the way you go hunting?” said the old man. “Others are having +their breakfast and you are asleep! Lyam! Here!” he called to his dog. +“Is your gun ready?” he shouted, as loud as if a whole crowd were in +the hut. + +“Well, it’s true I’m guilty, but it can’t be helped! The powder, +Vanyúsha, and the wads!” said Olénin. + +“A fine!” shouted the old man. + +“_Du tay voulay vou?_” asked Vanyúsha, grinning. + +“You’re not one of us—your gabble is not like our speech, you devil!” +the old man shouted at Vanyúsha, showing the stumps of his teeth. + +“A first offence must be forgiven,” said Olénin playfully, drawing on +his high boots. + +“The first offence shall be forgiven,” answered Eróshka, “but if you +oversleep another time you’ll be fined a pail of _chikhir_. When it +gets warmer you won’t find the deer.” + +“And even if we do find him he is wiser than we are,” said Olénin, +repeating the words spoken by the old man the evening before, “and you +can’t deceive him!” + +“Yes, laugh away! You kill one first, and then you may talk. Now then, +hurry up! Look, there’s the master himself coming to see you,” added +Eróshka, looking out of the window. “Just see how he’s got himself up. +He’s put on a new coat so that you should see that he’s an officer. Ah, +these people, these people!” + +Sure enough Vanyúsha came in and announced that the master of the house +wished to see Olénin. + +“_L’arjan!_” he remarked profoundly, to forewarn his master of the +meaning of this visitation. Following him, the master of the house in a +new Circassian coat with an officer’s stripes on the shoulders and with +polished boots (quite exceptional among Cossacks) entered the room, +swaying from side to side, and congratulated his lodger on his safe +arrival. + +The cornet, Elias Vasílich, was an _educated_ Cossack. He had been to +Russia proper, was a regimental schoolteacher, and above all he was +noble. He wished to appear noble, but one could not help feeling +beneath his grotesque pretence of polish, his affectation, his +self-confidence, and his absurd way of speaking, he was just the same +as Daddy Eróshka. This could also be clearly seen by his sunburnt face +and his hands and his red nose. Olénin asked him to sit down. + +“Good morning, Father Elias Vasílich,” said Eróshka, rising with (or so +it seemed to Olénin) an ironically low bow. + +“Good morning. Daddy. So you’re here already,” said the cornet, with a +careless nod. + +The cornet was a man of about forty, with a grey pointed beard, skinny +and lean, but handsome and very fresh-looking for his age. Having come +to see Olénin he was evidently afraid of being taken for an ordinary +Cossack, and wanted to let Olénin feel his importance from the first. + +“That’s our Egyptian Nimrod,” he remarked, addressing Olénin and +pointing to the old man with a self-satisfied smile. “A mighty hunter +before the Lord! He’s our foremost man on every hand. You’ve already +been pleased to get acquainted with him.” + +Daddy Eróshka gazed at his feet in their shoes of wet raw hide and +shook his head thoughtfully at the cornet’s ability and learning, and +muttered to himself: “Gyptian Nimvrod! What things he invents!” + +“Yes, you see we mean to go hunting,” answered Olénin. + +“Yes, sir, exactly,” said the cornet, “but I have a small business with +you.” + +“What do you want?” + +“Seeing that you are a gentleman,” began the cornet, “and as I may +understand myself to be in the rank of an officer too, and therefore we +may always progressively negotiate, as gentlemen do.” (He stopped and +looked with a smile at Olénin and at the old man.) “But if you have the +desire with my consent, then, as my wife is a foolish woman of our +class, she could not quite comprehend your words of yesterday’s date. +Therefore my quarters might be let for six rubles to the Regimental +Adjutant, without the stables; but I can always avert that from myself +free of charge. But, as you desire, therefore I, being myself of an +officer’s rank, can come to an agreement with you in everything +personally, as an inhabitant of this district, not according to our +customs, but can maintain the conditions in every way....” + +“Speaks clearly!” muttered the old man. + +The cornet continued in the same strain for a long time. At last, not +without difficulty, Olénin gathered that the cornet wished to let his +rooms to him, Olénin, for six rubles a month. The latter gladly agreed +to this, and offered his visitor a glass of tea. The cornet declined +it. + +“According to our silly custom we consider it a sort of sin to drink +out of a ‘worldly’ tumbler,” he said. “Though, of course, with my +education I may understand, but my wife from her human weakness...” + +“Well then, will you have some tea?” + +“If you will permit me, I will bring my own particular glass,” answered +the cornet, and stepped out into the porch. + +“Bring me my glass!” he cried. + +In a few minutes the door opened and a young sunburnt arm in a print +sleeve thrust itself in, holding a tumbler in the hand. The cornet went +up, took it, and whispered something to his daughter. Olénin poured tea +for the cornet into the latter’s own “particular” glass, and for +Eróshka into a “worldly” glass. + +“However, I do not desire to detain you,” said the cornet, scalding his +lips and emptying his tumbler. “I too have a great liking for fishing, +and I am here, so to say, only on leave of absence for recreation from +my duties. I too have the desire to tempt fortune and see whether some +_Gifts of the Térek_ may not fall to my share. I hope you too will come +and see us and have a drink of our wine, according to the custom of our +village,” he added. + +The cornet bowed, shook hands with Olénin, and went out. While Olénin +was getting ready, he heard the cornet giving orders to his family in +an authoritative and sensible tone, and a few minutes later he saw him +pass by the window in a tattered coat with his trousers rolled up to +his knees and a fishing net over his shoulder. + +“A rascal!” said Daddy Eróshka, emptying his “worldly” tumbler. “And +will you really pay him six rubles? Was such a thing ever heard of? +They would let you the best hut in the village for two rubles. What a +beast! Why, I’d let you have mine for three!” + +“No, I’ll remain here,” said Olénin. + +“Six rubles!... Clearly it’s a fool’s money. Eh, eh, eh!” answered the +old man. “Let’s have some _chikhir_, Iván!” + +Having had a snack and a drink of vodka to prepare themselves for the +road, Olénin and the old man went out together before eight o’clock. + +At the gate they came up against a wagon to which a pair of oxen were +harnessed. With a white kerchief tied round her head down to her eyes, +a coat over her smock, and wearing high boots, Maryánka with a long +switch in her hand was dragging the oxen by a cord tied to their horns. + +“Mammy,” said the old man, pretending that he was going to seize her. + +Maryánka flourished her switch at him and glanced merrily at them both +with her beautiful eyes. + +Olénin felt still more light-hearted. + +“Now then, come on, come on,” he said, throwing his gun on his shoulder +and conscious of the girl’s eyes upon him. + +“Gee up!” sounded Maryánka’s voice behind them, followed by the creak +of the moving wagon. + +As long as their road lay through the pastures at the back of the +village Eróshka went on talking. He could not forget the cornet and +kept on abusing him. + +“Why are you so angry with him?” asked Olénin. + +“He’s stingy. I don’t like it,” answered the old man. “He’ll leave it +all behind when he dies! Then who’s he saving up for? He’s built two +houses, and he’s got a second garden from his brother by a law-suit. +And in the matter of papers what a dog he is! They come to him from +other villages to fill up documents. As he writes it out, exactly so it +happens. He gets it quite exact. But who is he saving for? He’s only +got one boy and the girl; when she’s married who’ll be left?” + +“Well then, he’s saving up for her dowry,” said Olénin. + +“What dowry? The girl is sought after, she’s a fine girl. But he’s such +a devil that he must yet marry her to a rich fellow. He wants to get a +big price for her. There’s Luke, a Cossack, a neighbour and a nephew of +mine, a fine lad. It’s he who killed the Chéchen—he has been wooing her +for a long time, but he hasn’t let him have her. He’s given one excuse, +and another, and a third. ‘The girl’s too young,’ he says. But I know +what he is thinking. He wants to keep them bowing to him. He’s been +acting shamefully about that girl. Still, they will get her for +Lukáshka, because he is the best Cossack in the village, a brave, who +has killed an _abrek_ and will be rewarded with a cross.” + +“But how about this? When I was walking up and down the yard last +night, I saw my landlord’s daughter and some Cossack kissing,” said +Olénin. + +“You’re pretending!” cried the old man, stopping. + +“On my word,” said Olénin. + +“Women are the devil,” said Eróshka pondering. “But what Cossack was +it?” + +“I couldn’t see.” + +“Well, what sort of a cap had he, a white one?” + +“Yes.” + +“And a red coat? About your height?” + +“No, a bit taller.” + +“It’s he!” and Eróshka burst out laughing. “It’s himself, it’s Mark. He +is Luke, but I call him Mark for a joke. His very self! I love him. I +was just such a one myself. What’s the good of minding them? My +sweetheart used to sleep with her mother and her sister-in-law, but I +managed to get in. She used to sleep upstairs; that witch her mother +was a regular demon; it’s awful how she hated me. Well, I used to come +with a chum, Gírchik his name was. We’d come under her window and I’d +climb on his shoulders, push up the window and begin groping about. She +used to sleep just there on a bench. Once I woke her up and she nearly +called out. She hadn’t recognized me. ‘Who is there?’ she said, and I +could not answer. Her mother was even beginning to stir, but I took off +my cap and shoved it over her mouth; and she at once knew it by a seam +in it, and ran out to me. I used not to want anything then. She’d bring +along clotted cream and grapes and everything,” added Eróshka (who +always explained things practically), “and she wasn’t the only one. It +was a life!” + +“And what now?” + +“Now we’ll follow the dog, get a pheasant to settle on a tree, and then +you may fire.” + +“Would you have made up to Maryánka?” + +“Attend to the dogs. I’ll tell you tonight,” said the old man, pointing +to his favourite dog, Lyam. + +After a pause they continued talking, while they went about a hundred +paces. Then the old man stopped again and pointed to a twig that lay +across the path. + +“What do you think of that?” he said. “You think it’s nothing? It’s bad +that this stick is lying so.” + +“Why is it bad?” + +He smiled. + +“Ah, you don’t know anything. Just listen to me. When a stick lies like +that don’t you step across it, but go round it or throw it off the path +this way, and say ‘Father and Son and Holy Ghost,’ and then go on with +God’s blessing. Nothing will happen to you. That’s what the old men +used to teach me.” + +“Come, what rubbish!” said Olénin. “You’d better tell me more about +Maryánka. Does she carry on with Lukáshka?” + +“Hush ... be quiet now!” the old man again interrupted in a whisper: +“just listen, we’ll go round through the forest.” + +And the old man, stepping quietly in his soft shoes, led the way by a +narrow path leading into the dense, wild, overgrown forest. Now and +again with a frown he turned to look at Olénin, who rustled and +clattered with his heavy boots and, carrying his gun carelessly, +several times caught the twigs of trees that grew across the path. + +“Don’t make a noise. Step softly, soldier!” the old man whispered +angrily. + +There was a feeling in the air that the sun had risen. The mist was +dissolving but it still enveloped the tops of the trees. The forest +looked terribly high. At every step the aspect changed: what had +appeared like a tree proved to be a bush, and a reed looked like a +tree. + + + + + Chapter XIX + + +The mist had partly lifted, showing the wet reed thatches, and was now +turning into dew that moistened the road and the grass beside the +fence. Smoke rose everywhere in clouds from the chimneys. The people +were going out of the village, some to their work, some to the river, +and some to the cordon. The hunters walked together along the damp, +grass-grown path. The dogs, wagging their tails and looking at their +masters, ran on both sides of them. Myriads of gnats hovered in the air +and pursued the hunters, covering their backs, eyes, and hands. The air +was fragrant with the grass and with the dampness of the forest. Olénin +continually looked round at the ox-cart in which Maryánka sat urging on +the oxen with a long switch. + +It was calm. The sounds from the village, audible at first, now no +longer reached the sportsmen. Only the brambles cracked as the dogs ran +under them, and now and then birds called to one another. Olénin knew +that danger lurked in the forest, that _abreks_ always hid in such +places. But he knew too that in the forest, for a man on foot, a gun is +a great protection. Not that he was afraid, but he felt that another in +his place might be; and looking into the damp misty forest and +listening to the rare and faint sounds with strained attention, he +changed his hold on his gun and experienced a pleasant feeling that was +new to him. Daddy Eróshka went in front, stopping and carefully +scanning every puddle where an animal had left a double track, and +pointing it out to Olénin. He hardly spoke at all and only occasionally +made remarks in a whisper. The track they were following had once been +made by wagons, but the grass had long overgrown it. The elm and +plane-tree forest on both sides of them was so dense and overgrown with +creepers that it was impossible to see anything through it. Nearly +every tree was enveloped from top to bottom with wild grape vines, and +dark bramble bushes covered the ground thickly. Every little glade was +overgrown with blackberry bushes and grey feathery reeds. In places, +large hoof-prints and small funnel-shaped pheasant-trails led from the +path into the thicket. The vigour of the growth of this forest, +untrampled by cattle, struck Olénin at every turn, for he had never +seen anything like it. This forest, the danger, the old man and his +mysterious whispering, Maryánka with her virile upright bearing, and +the mountains—all this seemed to him like a dream. + +“A pheasant has settled,” whispered the old man, looking round and +pulling his cap over his face—“Cover your mug! A pheasant!” he waved +his arm angrily at Olénin and pushed forward almost on all fours. “He +don’t like a man’s mug.” + +Olénin was still behind him when the old man stopped and began +examining a tree. A cock-pheasant on the tree clucked at the dog that +was barking at it, and Olénin saw the pheasant; but at that moment a +report, as of a cannon, came from Eróshka’s enormous gun, the bird +fluttered up and, losing some feathers, fell to the ground. Coming up +to the old man Olénin disturbed another, and raising his gun he aimed +and fired. The pheasant flew swiftly up and then, catching at the +branches as he fell, dropped like a stone to the ground. + +“Good man!” the old man (who could not hit a flying bird) shouted, +laughing. + +Having picked up the pheasants they went on. Olénin, excited by the +exercise and the praise, kept addressing remarks to the old man. + +“Stop! Come this way,” the old man interrupted. “I noticed the track of +deer here yesterday.” + +After they had turned into the thicket and gone some three hundred +paces they scrambled through into a glade overgrown with reeds and +partly under water. Olénin failed to keep up with the old huntsman and +presently Daddy Eróshka, some twenty paces in front, stooped down, +nodding and beckoning with his arm. On coming up with him Olénin saw a +man’s footprint to which the old man was pointing. + +“D’you see?” + +“Yes, well?” said Olénin, trying to speak as calmly as he could. “A +man’s footstep!” + +Involuntarily a thought of Cooper’s _Pathfinder_ and of _abreks_ +flashed through Olénin’s mind, but noticing the mysterious manner with +which the old man moved on, he hesitated to question him and remained +in doubt whether this mysteriousness was caused by fear of danger or by +the sport. + +“No, it’s my own footprint,” the old man said quietly, and pointed to +some grass under which the track of an animal was just perceptible. + +The old man went on, and Olénin kept up with him. Descending to lower +ground some twenty paces farther on they came upon a spreading +pear-tree, under which, on the black earth, lay the fresh dung of some +animal. + +The spot, all covered over with wild vines, was like a cosy arbour, +dark and cool. + +“He’s been here this morning,” said the old man with a sigh; “the lair +is still damp, quite fresh.” + +Suddenly they heard a terrible crash in the forest some ten paces from +where they stood. They both started and seized their guns, but they +could see nothing and only heard the branches breaking. The rhythmical +rapid thud of galloping was heard for a moment and then changed into a +hollow rumble which resounded farther and farther off, re-echoing in +wider and wider circles through the forest. Olénin felt as though +something had snapped in his heart. He peered carefully but vainly into +the green thicket and then turned to the old man. Daddy Eróshka with +his gun pressed to his breast stood motionless; his cap was thrust +backwards, his eyes gleamed with an unwonted glow, and his open mouth, +with its worn yellow teeth, seemed to have stiffened in that position. + +“A horned stag!” he muttered, and throwing down his gun in despair he +began pulling at his grey beard, “Here it stood. We should have come +round by the path.... Fool! fool!” and he gave his beard an angry tug. +“Fool! Pig!” he repeated, pulling painfully at his own beard. Through +the forest something seemed to fly away in the mist, and ever farther +and farther off was heard the sound of the flight of the stag. + +It was already dusk when, hungry, tired, but full of vigour, Olénin +returned with the old man. Dinner was ready. He ate and drank with the +old man till he felt warm and merry. Olénin then went out into the +porch. Again, to the west, the mountains rose before his eyes. Again +the old man told his endless stories of hunting, of _abreks_, of +sweethearts, and of all that free and reckless life. Again the fair +Maryánka went in and out and across the yard, her beautiful powerful +form outlined by her smock. + + + + + Chapter XX + + +The next day Olénin went alone to the spot where he and the old man +startled the stag. Instead of passing round through the gate he climbed +over the prickly hedge, as everybody else did, and before he had had +time to pull out the thorns that had caught in his coat, his dog, which +had run on in front, started two pheasants. He had hardly stepped among +the briers when the pheasants began to rise at every step (the old man +had not shown him that place the day before as he meant to keep it for +shooting from behind the screen). Olénin fired twelve times and killed +five pheasants, but clambering after them through the briers he got so +fatigued that he was drenched with perspiration. He called off his dog, +uncocked his gun, put in a bullet above the small shot, and brushing +away the mosquitoes with the wide sleeve of his Circassian coat he went +slowly to the spot where they had been the day before. It was however +impossible to keep back the dog, who found trails on the very path, and +Olénin killed two more pheasants, so that after being detained by this +it was getting towards noon before he began to find the place he was +looking for. + +The day was perfectly clear, calm, and hot. The morning moisture had +dried up even in the forest, and myriads of mosquitoes literally +covered his face, his back, and his arms. His dog had turned from black +to grey, its back being covered with mosquitoes, and so had Olénin’s +coat through which the insects thrust their stings. Olénin was ready to +run away from them and it seemed to him that it was impossible to live +in this country in the summer. He was about to go home, but remembering +that other people managed to endure such pain he resolved to bear it +and gave himself up to be devoured. And strange to say, by noontime the +feeling became actually pleasant. He even felt that without this +mosquito-filled atmosphere around him, and that mosquito-paste mingled +with perspiration which his hand smeared over his face, and that +unceasing irritation all over his body, the forest would lose for him +some of its character and charm. These myriads of insects were so well +suited to that monstrously lavish wild vegetation, these multitudes of +birds and beasts which filled the forest, this dark foliage, this hot +scented air, these runlets filled with turbid water which everywhere +soaked through from the Térek and gurgled here and there under the +overhanging leaves, that the very thing which had at first seemed to +him dreadful and intolerable now seemed pleasant. After going round the +place where yesterday they had found the animal and not finding +anything, he felt inclined to rest. The sun stood right above the +forest and poured its perpendicular rays down on his back and head +whenever he came out into a glade or onto the road. The seven heavy +pheasants dragged painfully at his waist. Having found the traces of +yesterday’s stag he crept under a bush into the thicket just where the +stag had lain, and lay down in its lair. He examined the dark foliage +around him, the place marked by the stag’s perspiration and yesterday’s +dung, the imprint of the stag’s knees, the bit of black earth it had +kicked up, and his own footprints of the day before. He felt cool and +comfortable and did not think of or wish for anything. And suddenly he +was overcome by such a strange feeling of causeless joy and of love for +everything, that from an old habit of his childhood he began crossing +himself and thanking someone. Suddenly, with extraordinary clearness, +he thought: “Here am I, Dmítri Olénin, a being quite distinct from +every other being, now lying all alone Heaven only knows where—where a +stag used to live—an old stag, a beautiful stag who perhaps had never +seen a man, and in a place where no human being has ever sat or thought +these thoughts. Here I sit, and around me stand old and young trees, +one of them festooned with wild grape vines, and pheasants are +fluttering, driving one another about and perhaps scenting their +murdered brothers.” He felt his pheasants, examined them, and wiped the +warm blood off his hand onto his coat. “Perhaps the jackals scent them +and with dissatisfied faces go off in another direction: above me, +flying in among the leaves which to them seem enormous islands, +mosquitoes hang in the air and buzz: one, two, three, four, a hundred, +a thousand, a million mosquitoes, and all of them buzz something or +other and each one of them is separate from all else and is just such a +separate Dmítri Olénin as I am myself.” He vividly imagined what the +mosquitoes buzzed: “This way, this way, lads! Here’s some one we can +eat!” They buzzed and stuck to him. And it was clear to him that he was +not a Russian nobleman, a member of Moscow society, the friend and +relation of so-and-so and so-and-so, but just such a mosquito, or +pheasant, or deer, as those that were now living all around him. “Just +as they, just as Daddy Eróshka, I shall live awhile and die, and as he +says truly: ‘grass will grow and nothing more’.” + +“But what though the grass does grow?” he continued thinking. “Still I +must live and be happy, because happiness is all I desire. Never mind +what I am—an animal like all the rest, above whom the grass will grow +and nothing more; or a frame in which a bit of the one God has been +set,—still I must live in the very best way. How then must I live to be +happy, and why was I not happy before?” And he began to recall his +former life and he felt disgusted with himself. He appeared to himself +to have been terribly exacting and selfish, though he now saw that all +the while he really needed nothing for himself. And he looked round at +the foliage with the light shining through it, at the setting sun and +the clear sky, and he felt just as happy as before. “Why am I happy, +and what used I to live for?” thought he. “How much I exacted for +myself; how I schemed and did not manage to gain anything but shame and +sorrow! and, there now, I require nothing to be happy;” and suddenly a +new light seemed to reveal itself to him. “Happiness is this!” he said +to himself. “Happiness lies in living for others. That is evident. The +desire for happiness is innate in every man; therefore it is +legitimate. When trying to satisfy it selfishly—that is, by seeking for +oneself riches, fame, comforts, or love—it may happen that +circumstances arise which make it impossible to satisfy these desires. +It follows that it is these desires that are illegitimate, but not the +need for happiness. But what desires can always be satisfied despite +external circumstances? What are they? Love, self-sacrifice.” He was so +glad and excited when he had discovered this, as it seemed to him, new +truth, that he jumped up and began impatiently seeking some one to +sacrifice himself for, to do good to and to love. “Since one wants +nothing for oneself,” he kept thinking, “why not live for others?” He +took up his gun with the intention of returning home quickly to think +this out and to find an opportunity of doing good. He made his way out +of the thicket. When he had come out into the glade he looked around +him; the sun was no longer visible above the tree-tops. It had grown +cooler and the place seemed to him quite strange and not like the +country round the village. Everything seemed changed—the weather and +the character of the forest; the sky was wrapped in clouds, the wind +was rustling in the tree-tops, and all around nothing was visible but +reeds and dying broken-down trees. He called to his dog who had run +away to follow some animal, and his voice came back as in a desert. And +suddenly he was seized with a terrible sense of weirdness. He grew +frightened. He remembered the _abreks_ and the murders he had been told +about, and he expected every moment that an _abrek_ would spring from +behind every bush and he would have to defend his life and die, or be a +coward. He thought of God and of the future life as for long he had not +thought about them. And all around was that same gloomy stern wild +nature. “And is it worth while living for oneself,” thought he, “when +at any moment you may die, and die without having done any good, and so +that no one will know of it?” He went in the direction where he fancied +the village lay. Of his shooting he had no further thought; but he felt +tired to death and peered round at every bush and tree with particular +attention and almost with terror, expecting every moment to be called +to account for his life. After having wandered about for a considerable +time he came upon a ditch down which was flowing cold sandy water from +the Térek, and, not to go astray any longer, he decided to follow it. +He went on without knowing where the ditch would lead him. Suddenly the +reeds behind him crackled. He shuddered and seized his gun, and then +felt ashamed of himself: the over-excited dog, panting hard, had thrown +itself into the cold water of the ditch and was lapping it! + +He too had a drink, and then followed the dog in the direction it +wished to go, thinking it would lead him to the village. But despite +the dog’s company everything around him seemed still more dreary. The +forest grew darker and the wind grew stronger and stronger in the tops +of the broken old trees. Some large birds circled screeching round +their nests in those trees. The vegetation grew poorer and he came +oftener and oftener upon rustling reeds and bare sandy spaces covered +with animal footprints. To the howling of the wind was added another +kind of cheerless monotonous roar. Altogether his spirits became +gloomy. Putting his hand behind him he felt his pheasants, and found +one missing. It had broken off and was lost, and only the bleeding head +and beak remained sticking in his belt. He felt more frightened than he +had ever done before. He began to pray to God, and feared above all +that he might die without having done anything good or kind; and he so +wanted to live, and to live so as to perform a feat of self-sacrifice. + + + + + Chapter XXI + + +Suddenly it was as though the sun had shone into his soul. He heard +Russian being spoken, and also heard the rapid smooth flow of the +Térek, and a few steps farther in front of him saw the brown moving +surface of the river, with the dim-coloured wet sand of its banks and +shallows, the distant steppe, the cordon watch-tower outlined above the +water, a saddled and hobbled horse among the brambles, and then the +mountains opening out before him. The red sun appeared for an instant +from under a cloud and its last rays glittered brightly along the river +over the reeds, on the watch-tower, and on a group of Cossacks, among +whom Lukáshka’s vigorous figure attracted Olénin’s involuntary +attention. + +Olénin felt that he was again, without any apparent cause, perfectly +happy. He had come upon the Nízhni-Protótsk post on the Térek, opposite +a pro-Russian Tartar village on the other side of the river. He +accosted the Cossacks, but not finding as yet any excuse for doing +anyone a kindness, he entered the hut; nor in the hut did he find any +such opportunity. The Cossacks received him coldly. On entering the mud +hut he lit a cigarette. The Cossacks paid little attention to him, +first because he was smoking a cigarette, and secondly because they had +something else to divert them that evening. Some hostile Chéchens, +relatives of the _abrek_ who had been killed, had come from the hills +with a scout to ransom the body; and the Cossacks were waiting for +their Commanding Officer’s arrival from the village. The dead man’s +brother, tall and well shaped with a short cropped beard which was dyed +red, despite his very tattered coat and cap was calm and majestic as a +king. His face was very like that of the dead _abrek_. He did not deign +to look at anyone, and never once glanced at the dead body, but sitting +on his heels in the shade he spat as he smoked his short pipe, and +occasionally uttered some few guttural sounds of command, which were +respectfully listened to by his companion. He was evidently a brave who +had met Russians more than once before in quite other circumstances, +and nothing about them could astonish or even interest him. Olénin was +about to approach the dead body and had begun to look at it when the +brother, looking up at him from under his brows with calm contempt, +said something sharply and angrily. The scout hastened to cover the +dead man’s face with his coat. Olénin was struck by the dignified and +stern expression of the brave’s face. He began to speak to him, asking +from what village he came, but the Chéchen, scarcely giving him a +glance, spat contemptuously and turned away. Olénin was so surprised at +the Chéchen not being interested in him that he could only put it down +to the man’s stupidity or ignorance of Russian; so he turned to the +scout, who also acted as interpreter. The scout was as ragged as the +other, but instead of being red-haired he was black-haired, restless, +with extremely white gleaming teeth and sparkling black eyes. The scout +willingly entered into conversation and asked for a cigarette. + +“There were five brothers,” began the scout in his broken Russian. +“This is the third brother the Russians have killed, only two are left. +He is a brave, a great brave!” he said, pointing to the Chéchen. “When +they killed Ahmet Khan (the dead brave) this one was sitting on the +opposite bank among the reeds. He saw it all. Saw him laid in the skiff +and brought to the bank. He sat there till the night and wished to kill +the old man, but the others would not let him.” + +Lukáshka went up to the speaker, and sat down. “Of what village?” asked +he. + +“From there in the hills,” replied the scout, pointing to the misty +bluish gorge beyond the Térek. “Do you know Suuk-su? It is about eight +miles beyond that.” + +“Do you know Giréy Khan in Suuk-su?” asked Lukáshka, evidently proud of +the acquaintance. “He is my _kunak_.” + +“He is my neighbour,” answered the scout. + +“He’s a trump!” and Lukáshka, evidently much interested, began talking +to the scout in Tartar. + +Presently a Cossack captain, with the head of the village, arrived on +horseback with a suite of two Cossacks. The captain—one of the new type +of Cossack officers—wished the Cossacks “Good health,” but no one +shouted in reply, “Hail! Good health to your honour,” as is customary +in the Russian Army, and only a few replied with a bow. Some, and among +them Lukáshka, rose and stood erect. The corporal replied that all was +well at the outposts. All this seemed ridiculous: it was as if these +Cossacks were playing at being soldiers. But these formalities soon +gave place to ordinary ways of behaviour, and the captain, who was a +smart Cossack just like the others, began speaking fluently in Tartar +to the interpreter. They filled in some document, gave it to the scout, +and received from him some money. Then they approached the body. + +“Which of you is Luke Gavrílov?” asked the captain. + +Lukáshka took off his cap and came forward. + +“I have reported your exploit to the Commander. I don’t know what will +come of it. I have recommended you for a cross; you’re too young to be +made a sergeant. Can you read?” + +“I can’t.” + +“But what a fine fellow to look at!” said the captain, again playing +the commander. “Put on your cap. Which of the Gavrílovs does he come +of? ... the Broad, eh?” + +“His nephew,” replied the corporal. + +“I know, I know. Well, lend a hand, help them,” he said, turning to the +Cossacks. + +Lukáshka’s face shone with joy and seemed handsomer than usual. He +moved away from the corporal, and having put on his cap sat down beside +Olénin. + +When the body had been carried to the skiff the brother Chéchen +descended to the bank. The Cossacks involuntarily stepped aside to let +him pass. He jumped into the boat and pushed off from the bank with his +powerful leg, and now, as Olénin noticed, for the first time threw a +rapid glance at all the Cossacks and then abruptly asked his companion +a question. The latter answered something and pointed to Lukáshka. The +Chéchen looked at him and, turning slowly away, gazed at the opposite +bank. That look expressed not hatred but cold contempt. He again made +some remark. + +“What is he saying?” Olénin asked of the fidgety scout. + +“Yours kill ours, ours slay yours. It’s always the same,” replied the +scout, evidently inventing, and he smiled, showing his white teeth, as +he jumped into the skiff. + +The dead man’s brother sat motionless, gazing at the opposite bank. He +was so full of hatred and contempt that there was nothing on this side +of the river that moved his curiosity. The scout, standing up at one +end of the skiff and dipping his paddle now on one side now on the +other, steered skilfully while talking incessantly. The skiff became +smaller and smaller as it moved obliquely across the stream, the voices +became scarcely audible, and at last, still within sight, they landed +on the opposite bank where their horses stood waiting. There they +lifted out the corpse and (though the horse shied) laid it across one +of the saddles, mounted, and rode at a foot-pace along the road past a +Tartar village from which a crowd came out to look at them. The +Cossacks on the Russian side of the river were highly satisfied and +jovial. Laughter and jokes were heard on all sides. The captain and the +head of the village entered the mud hut to regale themselves. Lukáshka, +vainly striving to impart a sedate expression to his merry face, sat +down with his elbows on his knees beside Olénin and whittled away at a +stick. + +“Why do you smoke?” he said with assumed curiosity. “Is it good?” + +He evidently spoke because he noticed Olénin felt ill at ease and +isolated among the Cossacks. + +“It’s just a habit,” answered Olénin. “Why?” + +“H’m, if one of us were to smoke there would be a row! Look there now, +the mountains are not far off,” continued Lukáshka, “yet you can’t get +there! How will you get back alone? It’s getting dark. I’ll take you, +if you like. You ask the corporal to give me leave.” + +“What a fine fellow!” thought Olénin, looking at the Cossack’s bright +face. He remembered Maryánka and the kiss he had heard by the gate, and +he was sorry for Lukáshka and his want of culture. “What confusion it +is,” he thought. “A man kills another and is happy and satisfied with +himself as if he had done something excellent. Can it be that nothing +tells him that it is not a reason for any rejoicing, and that happiness +lies not in killing, but in sacrificing oneself?” + +“Well, you had better not meet him again now, mate!” said one of the +Cossacks who had seen the skiff off, addressing Lukáshka. “Did you hear +him asking about you?” + +Lukáshka raised his head. + +“My godson?” said Lukáshka, meaning by that word the dead Chéchen. + +“Your godson won’t rise, but the red one is the godson’s brother!” + +“Let him thank God that he got off whole himself,” replied Lukáshka. + +“What are you glad about?” asked Olénin. “Supposing your brother had +been killed; would you be glad?” + +The Cossack looked at Olénin with laughing eyes. He seemed to have +understood all that Olénin wished to say to him, but to be above such +considerations. + +“Well, that happens too! Don’t our fellows get killed sometimes?” + + + + + Chapter XXII + + +The Captain and the head of the village rode away, and Olénin, to +please Lukáshka as well as to avoid going back alone through the dark +forest, asked the corporal to give Lukáshka leave, and the corporal did +so. Olénin thought that Lukáshka wanted to see Maryánka and he was also +glad of the companionship of such a pleasant-looking and sociable +Cossack. Lukáshka and Maryánka he involuntarily united in his mind, and +he found pleasure in thinking about them. “He loves Maryánka,” thought +Olénin, “and I could love her,” and a new and powerful emotion of +tenderness overcame him as they walked homewards together through the +dark forest. Lukáshka too felt happy; something akin to love made +itself felt between these two very different young men. Every time they +glanced at one another they wanted to laugh. + +“By which gate do you enter?” asked Olénin. + +“By the middle one. But I’ll see you as far as the marsh. After that +you have nothing to fear.” + +Olénin laughed. + +“Do you think I am afraid? Go back, and thank you. I can get on alone.” + +“It’s all right! What have I to do? And how can you help being afraid? +Even we are afraid,” said Lukáshka to set Olénin’s self-esteem at rest, +and he laughed too. + +“Then come in with me. We’ll have a talk and a drink and in the morning +you can go back.” + +“Couldn’t I find a place to spend the night?” laughed Lukáshka. “But +the corporal asked me to go back.” + +“I heard you singing last night, and also saw you.” + +“Every one...” and Luke swayed his head. + +“Is it true you are getting married?” asked Olénin. + +“Mother wants me to marry. But I have not got a horse yet.” + +“Aren’t you in the regular service?” + +“Oh dear no! I’ve only just joined, and have not got a horse yet, and +don’t know how to get one. That’s why the marriage does not come off.” + +“And what would a horse cost?” + +“We were bargaining for one beyond the river the other day and they +would not take sixty rubles for it, though it is a Nogáy horse.” + +“Will you come and be my drabánt?” (A drabánt was a kind of orderly +attached to an officer when campaigning.) “I’ll get it arranged and +will give you a horse,” said Olénin suddenly. “Really now, I have two +and I don’t want both.” + +“How—don’t want it?” Lukáshka said, laughing. “Why should you make me a +present? We’ll get on by ourselves by God’s help.” + +“No, really! Or don’t you want to be a drabánt?” said Olénin, glad that +it had entered his head to give a horse to Lukáshka, though, without +knowing why, he felt uncomfortable and confused and did not know what +to say when he tried to speak. + +Lukáshka was the first to break the silence. + +“Have you a house of your own in Russia?” he asked. + +Olénin could not refrain from replying that he had not only one, but +several houses. + +“A good house? Bigger than ours?” asked Lukáshka good-naturedly. + +“Much bigger; ten times as big and three storeys high,” replied Olénin. + +“And have you horses such as ours?” + +“I have a hundred horses, worth three or four hundred rubles each, but +they are not like yours. They are trotters, you know.... But still, I +like the horses here best.” + +“Well, and did you come here of your own free will, or were you sent?” +said Lukáshka, laughing at him. “Look! that’s where you lost your way,” +he added, “you should have turned to the right.” + +“I came by my own wish,” replied Olénin. “I wanted to see your parts +and to join some expeditions.” + +“I would go on an expedition any day,” said Lukáshka. “D’you hear the +jackals howling?” he added, listening. + +“I say, don’t you feel any horror at having killed a man?” asked +Olénin. + +“What’s there to be frightened about? But I should like to join an +expedition,” Lukáshka repeated. “How I want to! How I want to!” + +“Perhaps we may be going together. Our company is going before the +holidays, and your ‘hundred’ too.” + +“And what did you want to come here for? You’ve a house and horses and +serfs. In your place I’d do nothing but make merry! And what is your +rank?” + +“I am a cadet, but have been recommended for a commission.” + +“Well, if you’re not bragging about your home, if I were you I’d never +have left it! Yes, I’d never have gone away anywhere. Do you find it +pleasant living among us?” + +“Yes, very pleasant,” answered Olénin. + +It had grown quite dark before, talking in this way, they approached +the village. They were still surrounded by the deep gloom of the +forest. The wind howled through the tree-tops. The jackals suddenly +seemed to be crying close beside them, howling, chuckling, and sobbing; +but ahead of them in the village the sounds of women’s voices and the +barking of dogs could already be heard; the outlines of the huts were +clearly to be seen; lights gleamed and the air was filled with the +peculiar smell of _kisyak_ smoke. Olénin felt keenly, that night +especially, that here in this village was his home, his family, all his +happiness, and that he never had and never would live so happily +anywhere as he did in this Cossack village. He was so fond of everybody +and especially of Lukáshka that night. On reaching home, to Lukáshka’s +great surprise, Olénin with his own hands led out of the shed a horse +he had bought in Gróznoe—it was not the one he usually rode but +another—not a bad horse though no longer young, and gave it to +Lukáshka. + +“Why should you give me a present?” said Lukáshka, “I have not yet done +anything for you.” + +“Really it is nothing,” answered Olénin. “Take it, and you will give me +a present, and we’ll go on an expedition against the enemy together.” + +Lukáshka became confused. + +“But what d’you mean by it? As if a horse were of little value,” he +said without looking at the horse. + +“Take it, take it! If you don’t you will offend me. Vanyúsha! Take the +grey horse to his house.” + +Lukáshka took hold of the halter. + +“Well then, thank you! This is something unexpected, undreamt of.” + +Olénin was as happy as a boy of twelve. + +“Tie it up here. It’s a good horse. I bought it in Gróznoe; it gallops +splendidly! Vanyúsha, bring us some _chikhir_. Come into the hut.” + +The wine was brought. Lukáshka sat down and took the wine-bowl. + +“God willing I’ll find a way to repay you,” he said, finishing his +wine. “How are you called?” + +“Dmítri Andréich.” + +“Well, ’Mitry Andréich, God bless you. We will be _kunaks_. Now you +must come to see us. Though we are not rich people still we can treat a +_kunak_, and I will tell mother in case you need anything—clotted cream +or grapes—and if you come to the cordon I’m your servant to go hunting +or to go across the river, anywhere you like! There now, only the other +day, what a boar I killed, and I divided it among the Cossacks, but if +I had only known, I’d have given it to you.” + +“That’s all right, thank you! But don’t harness the horse, it has never +been in harness.” + +“Why harness the horse? And there is something else I’ll tell you if +you like,” said Lukáshka, bending his head. “I have a _kunak_, Giréy +Khan. He asked me to lie in ambush by the road where they come down +from the mountains. Shall we go together? I’ll not betray you. I’ll be +your _murid_.” + +“Yes, we’ll go; we’ll go some day.” + +Lukáshka seemed quite to have quieted down and to have understood +Olénin’s attitude towards him. His calmness and the ease of his +behaviour surprised Olénin, and he did not even quite like it. They +talked long, and it was late when Lukáshka, not tipsy (he never was +tipsy) but having drunk a good deal, left Olénin after shaking hands. + +Olénin looked out of the window to see what he would do. Lukáshka went +out, hanging his head. Then, having led the horse out of the gate, he +suddenly shook his head, threw the reins of the halter over its head, +sprang onto its back like a cat, gave a wild shout, and galloped down +the street. Olénin expected that Lukáshka would go to share his joy +with Maryánka, but though he did not do so Olénin still felt his soul +more at ease than ever before in his life. He was as delighted as a +boy, and could not refrain from telling Vanyúsha not only that he had +given Lukáshka the horse, but also why he had done it, as well as his +new theory of happiness. + +Vanyúsha did not approve of his theory, and announced that “_l’argent +il n’y a pas!_” and that therefore it was all nonsense. + +Lukáshka rode home, jumped off the horse, and handed it over to his +mother, telling her to let it out with the communal Cossack herd. He +himself had to return to the cordon that same night. His deaf sister +undertook to take the horse, and explained by signs that when she saw +the man who had given the horse, she would bow down at his feet. The +old woman only shook her head at her son’s story, and decided in her +own mind that he had stolen it. She therefore told the deaf girl to +take it to the herd before daybreak. + +Lukáshka went back alone to the cordon pondering over Olénin’s action. +Though he did not consider the horse a good one, yet it was worth at +least forty rubles and Lukáshka was very glad to have the present. But +why it had been given him he could not at all understand, and therefore +he did not experience the least feeling of gratitude. On the contrary, +vague suspicions that the cadet had some evil intentions filled his +mind. What those intentions were he could not decide, but neither could +he admit the idea that a stranger would give him a horse worth forty +rubles for nothing, just out of kindness; it seemed impossible. Had he +been drunk one might understand it! He might have wished to show off. +But the cadet had been sober, and therefore must have wished to bribe +him to do something wrong. “Eh, humbug!” thought Lukáshka. “Haven’t I +got the horse and we’ll see later on. I’m not a fool myself and we +shall see who’ll get the better of the other,” he thought, feeling the +necessity of being on his guard, and therefore arousing in himself +unfriendly feelings towards Olénin. He told no one how he had got the +horse. To some he said he had bought it, to others he replied +evasively. However, the truth soon got about in the village, and +Lukáshka’s mother and Maryánka, as well as Elias Vasílich and other +Cossacks, when they heard of Olénin’s unnecessary gift, were perplexed, +and began to be on their guard against the cadet. But despite their +fears his action aroused in them a great respect for his simplicity and +wealth. + +“Have you heard,” said one, “that the cadet quartered on Elias Vasílich +has thrown a fifty-ruble horse at Lukáshka? He’s rich! ...” + +“Yes, I heard of it,” replied another profoundly, “he must have done +him some great service. We shall see what will come of this cadet. Eh! +what luck that Snatcher has!” + +“Those cadets are crafty, awfully crafty,” said a third. “See if he +don’t go setting fire to a building, or doing something!” + + + + + Chapter XXIII + + +Olénin’s life went on with monotonous regularity. He had little +intercourse with the commanding officers or with his equals. The +position of a rich cadet in the Caucasus was peculiarly advantageous in +this respect. He was not sent out to work, or for training. As a reward +for going on an expedition he was recommended for a commission, and +meanwhile he was left in peace. The officers regarded him as an +aristocrat and behaved towards him with dignity. Cardplaying and the +officers’ carousals accompanied by the soldier-singers, of which he had +had experience when he was with the detachment, did not seem to him +attractive, and he also avoided the society and life of the officers in +the village. The life of officers stationed in a Cossack village has +long had its own definite form. Just as every cadet or officer when in +a fort regularly drinks porter, plays cards, and discusses the rewards +given for taking part in the expeditions, so in the Cossack villages he +regularly drinks _chikhir_ with his hosts, treats the girls to +sweet-meats and honey, dangles after the Cossack women, and falls in +love, and occasionally marries there. Olénin always took his own path +and had an unconscious objection to the beaten tracks. And here, too, +he did not follow the ruts of a Caucasian officer’s life. + +It came quite naturally to him to wake up at daybreak. After drinking +tea and admiring from his porch the mountains, the morning, and +Maryánka, he would put on a tattered ox-hide coat, sandals of soaked +raw hide, buckle on a dagger, take a gun, put cigarettes and some lunch +in a little bag, call his dog, and soon after five o’clock would start +for the forest beyond the village. Towards seven in the evening he +would return tired and hungry with five or six pheasants hanging from +his belt (sometimes with some other animal) and with his bag of food +and cigarettes untouched. If the thoughts in his head had lain like the +lunch and cigarettes in the bag, one might have seen that during all +those fourteen hours not a single thought had moved in it. He returned +morally fresh, strong, and perfectly happy, and he could not tell what +he had been thinking about all the time. Were they ideas, memories, or +dreams that had been flitting through his mind? They were frequently +all three. He would rouse himself and ask what he had been thinking +about; and would see himself as a Cossack working in a vineyard with +his Cossack wife, or an _abrek_ in the mountains, or a boar running +away from himself. And all the time he kept peering and watching for a +pheasant, a boar, or a deer. + +In the evening Daddy Eróshka would be sure to be sitting with him. +Vanyúsha would bring a jug of _chikhir_, and they would converse +quietly, drink, and separate to go quite contentedly to bed. The next +day he would again go shooting, again be healthily weary, again they +would sit conversing and drink their fill, and again be happy. +Sometimes on a holiday or day of rest Olénin spent the whole day at +home. Then his chief occupation was watching Maryánka, whose every +movement, without realizing it himself, he followed greedily from his +window or his porch. He regarded Maryánka and loved her (so he thought) +just as he loved the beauty of the mountains and the sky, and he had no +thought of entering into any relations with her. It seemed to him that +between him and her such relations as there were between her and the +Cossack Lukáshka could not exist, and still less such as often existed +between rich officers and other Cossack girls. It seemed to him that if +he tried to do as his fellow officers did, he would exchange his +complete enjoyment of contemplation for an abyss of suffering, +disillusionment, and remorse. Besides, he had already achieved a +triumph of self-sacrifice in connexion with her which had given him +great pleasure, and above all he was in a way afraid of Maryánka and +would not for anything have ventured to utter a word of love to her +lightly. + +Once during the summer, when Olénin had not gone out shooting but was +sitting at home, quite unexpectedly a Moscow acquaintance, a very young +man whom he had met in society, came in. + +“Ah, _mon cher_, my dear fellow, how glad I was when I heard that you +were here!” he began in his Moscow French, and he went on intermingling +French words in his remarks. “They said, ‘Olénin’. What Olénin? and I +was so pleased.... Fancy fate bringing us together here! Well, and how +are you? How? Why?” and Prince Belétski told his whole story: how he +had temporarily entered the regiment, how the Commander-in-Chief had +offered to take him as an adjutant, and how he would take up the post +after this campaign although personally he felt quite indifferent about +it. + +“Living here in this hole one must at least make a career—get a +cross—or a rank—be transferred to the Guards. That is quite +indispensable, not for myself but for the sake of my relations and +friends. The prince received me very well; he is a very decent fellow,” +said Belétski, and went on unceasingly. “I have been recommended for +the St. Anna Cross for the expedition. Now I shall stay here a bit +until we start on the campaign. It’s capital here. What women! Well, +and how are you getting on? I was told by our captain, Stártsev you +know, a kind-hearted stupid creature.... Well, he said you were living +like an awful savage, seeing no one! I quite understand you don’t want +to be mixed up with the set of officers we have here. I am so glad now +you and I will be able to see something of one another. I have put up +at the Cossack corporal’s house. There is such a girl there. Ústenka! I +tell you she’s just charming.” + +And more and more French and Russian words came pouring forth from that +world which Olénin thought he had left for ever. The general opinion +about Belétski was that he was a nice, good-natured fellow. Perhaps he +really was; but in spite of his pretty, good-natured face, Olénin +thought him extremely unpleasant. He seemed just to exhale that +filthiness which Olénin had forsworn. What vexed him most was that he +could not—had not the strength—abruptly to repulse this man who came +from that world: as if that old world he used to belong to had an +irresistible claim on him. Olénin felt angry with Belétski and with +himself, yet against his wish he introduced French phrases into his own +conversation, was interested in the Commander-in-Chief and in their +Moscow acquaintances, and because in this Cossack village he and +Belétski both spoke French, he spoke contemptuously of their fellow +officers and of the Cossacks, and was friendly with Belétski, promising +to visit him and inviting him to drop in to see him. Olénin however did +not himself go to see Belétski. Vanyúsha for his part approved of +Belétski, remarking that he was a real gentleman. + +Belétski at once adopted the customary life of a rich officer in a +Cossack village. Before Olénin’s eyes, in one month he came to be like +an old resident of the village; he made the old men drunk, arranged +evening parties, and himself went to parties arranged by the +girls—bragged of his conquests, and even got so far that, for some +unknown reason, the women and girls began calling him grandad, and the +Cossacks, to whom a man who loved wine and women was clearly +understandable, got used to him and even liked him better than they did +Olénin, who was a puzzle to them. + + + + + Chapter XXIV + + +It was five in the morning. Vanyúsha was in the porch heating the +samovar, and using the leg of a long boot instead of bellows. Olénin +had already ridden off to bathe in the Térek. (He had recently invented +a new amusement: to swim his horse in the river.) His landlady was in +her outhouse, and the dense smoke of the kindling fire rose from the +chimney. The girl was milking the buffalo cow in the shed. “Can’t keep +quiet, the damned thing!” came her impatient voice, followed by the +rhythmical sound of milking. + +From the street in front of the house horses’ hoofs were heard +clattering briskly, and Olénin, riding bareback on a handsome dark-grey +horse which was still wet and shining, rode up to the gate. Maryánka’s +handsome head, tied round with a red kerchief, appeared from the shed +and again disappeared. Olénin was wearing a red silk shirt, a white +Circassian coat girdled with a strap which carried a dagger, and a tall +cap. He sat his well-fed wet horse with a slightly conscious elegance +and, holding his gun at his back, stooped to open the gate. His hair +was still wet, and his face shone with youth and health. He thought +himself handsome, agile, and like a brave; but he was mistaken. To any +experienced Caucasian he was still only a soldier. When he noticed that +the girl had put out her head he stooped with particular smartness, +threw open the gate and, tightening the reins, swished his whip and +entered the yard. “Is tea ready, Vanyúsha?” he cried gaily, not looking +at the door of the shed. He felt with pleasure how his fine horse, +pressing down its flanks, pulling at the bridle and with every muscle +quivering and with each foot ready to leap over the fence, pranced on +the hard clay of the yard. _“C’est prêt_,” answered Vanyúsha. Olénin +felt as if Maryánka’s beautiful head was still looking out of the shed +but he did not turn to look at her. As he jumped down from his horse he +made an awkward movement and caught his gun against the porch, and +turned a frightened look towards the shed, where there was no one to be +seen and whence the sound of milking could still be heard. + +Soon after he had entered the hut he came out again and sat down with +his pipe and a book on the side of the porch which was not yet exposed +to the rays of the sun. He meant not to go anywhere before dinner that +day, and to write some long-postponed letters; but somehow he felt +disinclined to leave his place in the porch, and he was as reluctant to +go back into the hut as if it had been a prison. The housewife had +heated her oven, and the girl, having driven the cattle, had come back +and was collecting _kisyak_ and heaping it up along the fence. Olénin +went on reading, but did not understand a word of what was written in +the book that lay open before him. He kept lifting his eyes from it and +looking at the powerful young woman who was moving about. Whether she +stepped into the moist morning shadow thrown by the house, or went out +into the middle of the yard lit up by the joyous young light, so that +the whole of her stately figure in its bright coloured garment gleamed +in the sunshine and cast a black shadow—he always feared to lose any +one of her movements. It delighted him to see how freely and gracefully +her figure bent: into what folds her only garment, a pink smock, draped +itself on her bosom and along her shapely legs; how she drew herself up +and her tight-drawn smock showed the outline of her heaving bosom, how +the soles of her narrow feet in her worn red slippers rested on the +ground without altering their shape; how her strong arms with the +sleeves rolled up, exerting the muscles, used the spade almost as if in +anger, and how her deep dark eyes sometimes glanced at him. Though the +delicate brows frowned, yet her eyes expressed pleasure and a knowledge +of her own beauty. + +“I say, Olénin, have you been up long?” said Belétski as he entered the +yard dressed in the coat of a Caucasian officer. + +“Ah, Belétski,” replied Olénin, holding out his hand. “How is it you +are out so early?” + +“I had to. I was driven out; we are having a ball tonight. Maryánka, of +course you’ll come to Ústenka’s?” he added, turning to the girl. + +Olénin felt surprised that Belétski could address this woman so easily. +But Maryánka, as though she had not heard him, bent her head, and +throwing the spade across her shoulder went with her firm masculine +tread towards the outhouse. + +“She’s shy, the wench is shy,” Belétski called after her. “Shy of you,” +he added as, smiling gaily, he ran up the steps of the porch. + +“How is it you are having a ball and have been driven out?” + +“It’s at Ústenka’s, at my landlady’s, that the ball is, and you two are +invited. A ball consists of a pie and a gathering of girls.” + +“What should we do there?” + +Belétski smiled knowingly and winked, jerking his head in the direction +of the outhouse into which Maryánka had disappeared. + +Olénin shrugged his shoulders and blushed. + +“Well, really you are a strange fellow!” said he. + +“Come now, don’t pretend” + +Olénin frowned, and Belétski noticing this smiled insinuatingly. “Oh, +come, what do you mean?” he said, “living in the same house—and such a +fine girl, a splendid girl, a perfect beauty—” + +“Wonderfully beautiful! I never saw such a woman before,” replied +Olénin. + +“Well then?” said Belétski, quite unable to understand the situation. + +“It may be strange,” replied Olénin, “but why should I not say what is +true? Since I have lived here women don’t seem to exist for me. And it +is so good, really! Now what can there be in common between us and +women like these? Eróshka—that’s a different matter! He and I have a +passion in common—sport.” + +“There now! In common! And what have I in common with Amália Ivánovna? +It’s the same thing! You may say they’re not very clean—that’s another +matter... _À la guerre, comme à la guerre!_...” + +“But I have never known any Amália Ivánovas, and have never known how +to behave with women of that sort,” replied Olénin. “One cannot respect +them, but these I do respect.” + +“Well go on respecting them! Who wants to prevent you?” + +Olénin did not reply. He evidently wanted to complete what he had begun +to say. It was very near his heart. + +“I know I am an exception...” He was visibly confused. “But my life has +so shaped itself that I not only see no necessity to renounce my rules, +but I could not live here, let alone live as happily as I am doing, +were I to live as you do. Therefore I look for something quite +different from what you look for.” + +Belétski raised his eyebrows incredulously. “Anyhow, come to me this +evening; Maryánka will be there and I will make you acquainted. Do +come, please! If you feel dull you can go away. Will you come?” + +“I would come, but to speak frankly I am afraid of being seriously +carried away.” + +“Oh, oh, oh!” shouted Belétski. “Only come, and I’ll see that you +aren’t. Will you? On your word?” + +“I would come, but really I don’t understand what we shall do; what +part we shall play!” + +“Please, I beg of you. You will come?” + +“Yes, perhaps I’ll come,” said Olénin. + +“Really now! Charming women such as one sees nowhere else, and to live +like a monk! What an idea! Why spoil your life and not make use of what +is at hand? Have you heard that our company is ordered to +Vozdvízhensk?” + +“Hardly. I was told the 8th Company would be sent there,” said Olénin. + +“No. I have had a letter from the adjutant there. He writes that the +Prince himself will take part in the campaign. I am very glad I shall +see something of him. I’m beginning to get tired of this place.” + +“I hear we shall start on a raid soon.” + +“I have not heard of it; but I have heard that Krinovítsin has received +the Order of St. Anna for a raid. He expected a lieutenancy,” said +Belétski laughing. “He was let in! He has set off for headquarters.” + +It was growing dusk and Olénin began thinking about the party. The +invitation he had received worried him. He felt inclined to go, but +what might take place there seemed strange, absurd, and even rather +alarming. He knew that neither Cossack men nor older women, nor anyone +besides the girls, were to be there. What was going to happen? How was +he to behave? What would they talk about? What connexion was there +between him and those wild Cossack girls? Belétski had told him of such +curious, cynical, and yet rigid relations. It seemed strange to think +that he would be there in the same hut with Maryánka and perhaps might +have to talk to her. It seemed to him impossible when he remembered her +majestic bearing. But Belétski spoke of it as if it were all perfectly +simple. “Is it possible that Belétski will treat Maryánka in the same +way? That is interesting,” thought he. “No, better not go. It’s all so +horrid, so vulgar, and above all—it leads to nothing!” But again he was +worried by the question of what would take place; and besides he felt +as if bound by a promise. He went out without having made up his mind +one way or the other, but he walked as far as Belétski’s, and went in +there. + +The hut in which Belétski lived was like Olénin’s. It was raised nearly +five feet from the ground on wooden piles, and had two rooms. In the +first (which Olénin entered by the steep flight of steps) feather beds, +rugs, blankets, and cushions were tastefully and handsomely arranged, +Cossack fashion, along the main wall. On the side wall hung brass +basins and weapons, while on the floor, under a bench, lay watermelons +and pumpkins. In the second room there was a big brick oven, a table, +and sectarian icons. It was here that Belétski was quartered, with his +camp-bed and his pack and trunks. His weapons hung on the wall with a +little rug behind them, and on the table were his toilet appliances and +some portraits. A silk dressing-gown had been thrown on the bench. +Belétski himself, clean and good-looking, lay on the bed in his +underclothing, reading _Les Trois Mousquetaires_. + +He jumped up. + +“There, you see how I have arranged things. Fine! Well, it’s good that +you have come. They are working furiously. Do you know what the pie is +made of? Dough with a stuffing of pork and grapes. But that’s not the +point. You just look at the commotion out there!” + +And really, on looking out of the window they saw an unusual bustle +going on in the hut. Girls ran in and out, now for one thing and now +for another. + +“Will it soon be ready?” cried Belétski. + +“Very soon! Why? Is Grandad hungry?” and from the hut came the sound of +ringing laughter. + +Ústenka, plump, small, rosy, and pretty, with her sleeves turned up, +ran into Belétski’s hut to fetch some plates. + +“Get away or I shall smash the plates!” she squeaked, escaping from +Belétski. “You’d better come and help,” she shouted to Olénin, +laughing. “And don’t forget to get some refreshments for the girls.” +(“Refreshments” meaning spicebread and sweets.) + +“And has Maryánka come?” + +“Of course! She brought some dough.” + +“Do you know,” said Belétski, “if one were to dress Ústenka up and +clean and polish her up a bit, she’d be better than all our beauties. +Have you ever seen that Cossack woman who married a colonel; she was +charming! Bórsheva? What dignity! Where do they get it...” + +“I have not seen Bórsheva, but I think nothing could be better than the +costume they wear here.” + +“Ah, I’m first-rate at fitting into any kind of life,” said Belétski +with a sigh of pleasure. “I’ll go and see what they are up to.” + +He threw his dressing-gown over his shoulders and ran out, shouting, +“And you look after the ‘refreshments’.” + +Olénin sent Belétski’s orderly to buy spice-bread and honey; but it +suddenly seemed to him so disgusting to give money (as if he were +bribing someone) that he gave no definite reply to the orderly’s +question: “How much spice-bread with peppermint, and how much with +honey?” + +“Just as you please.” + +“Shall I spend all the money,” asked the old soldier impressively. “The +peppermint is dearer. It’s sixteen kopeks.” + +“Yes, yes, spend it all,” answered Olénin and sat down by the window, +surprised that his heart was thumping as if he were preparing himself +for something serious and wicked. + +He heard screaming and shrieking in the girls’ hut when Belétski went +there, and a few moments later saw how he jumped out and ran down the +steps, accompanied by shrieks, bustle, and laughter. + +“Turned out,” he said. + +A little later Ústenka entered and solemnly invited her visitors to +come in: announcing that all was ready. + +When they came into the room they saw that everything was really ready. +Ústenka was rearranging the cushions along the wall. On the table, +which was covered by a disproportionately small cloth, was a decanter +of _chikhir_ and some dried fish. The room smelt of dough and grapes. +Some half dozen girls in smart tunics, with their heads not covered as +usual with kerchiefs, were huddled together in a corner behind the +oven, whispering, giggling, and spluttering with laughter. + +“I humbly beg you to do honour to my patron saint,” said Ústenka, +inviting her guests to the table. + +Olénin noticed Maryánka among the group of girls, who without exception +were all handsome, and he felt vexed and hurt that he met her in such +vulgar and awkward circumstances. He felt stupid and awkward, and made +up his mind to do what Belétski did. Belétski stepped to the table +somewhat solemnly yet with confidence and ease, drank a glass of wine +to Ústenka’s health, and invited the others to do the same. Ústenka +announced that girls don’t drink. + +“We might with a little honey,” exclaimed a voice from among the group +of girls. + +The orderly, who had just returned with the honey and spice-cakes, was +called in. He looked askance (whether with envy or with contempt) at +the gentlemen, who in his opinion were on the spree; and carefully and +conscientiously handed over to them a piece of honeycomb and the cakes +wrapped up in a piece of greyish paper, and began explaining +circumstantially all about the price and the change, but Belétski sent +him away. + +Having mixed honey with wine in the glasses, and having lavishly +scattered the three pounds of spice-cakes on the table, Belétski +dragged the girls from their corners by force, made them sit down at +the table, and began distributing the cakes among them. Olénin +involuntarily noticed how Maryánka’s sunburnt but small hand closed on +two round peppermint nuts and one brown one, and that she did not know +what to do with them. The conversation was halting and constrained, in +spite of Ústenka’s and Belétski’s free and easy manner and their wish +to enliven the company. Olénin faltered, and tried to think of +something to say, feeling that he was exciting curiosity and perhaps +provoking ridicule and infecting the others with his shyness. He +blushed, and it seemed to him that Maryánka in particular was feeling +uncomfortable. “Most likely they are expecting us to give them some +money,” thought he. “How are we to do it? And how can we manage +quickest to give it and get away?” + + + + + Chapter XXV + + +“How is it you don’t know your own lodger?” said Belétski, addressing +Maryánka. + +“How is one to know him if he never comes to see us?” answered +Maryánka, with a look at Olénin. + +Olénin felt frightened, he did not know of what. He flushed and, hardly +knowing what he was saying, remarked: “I’m afraid of your mother. She +gave me such a scolding the first time I went in.” + +Maryánka burst out laughing. “And so you were frightened?” she said, +and glanced at him and turned away. + +It was the first time Olénin had seen the whole of her beautiful face. +Till then he had seen her with her kerchief covering her to the eyes. +It was not for nothing that she was reckoned the beauty of the village. +Ústenka was a pretty girl, small, plump, rosy, with merry brown eyes, +and red lips which were perpetually smiling and chattering. Maryánka on +the contrary was certainly not pretty but beautiful. Her features might +have been considered too masculine and almost harsh had it not been for +her tall stately figure, her powerful chest and shoulders, and +especially the severe yet tender expression of her long dark eyes which +were darkly shadowed beneath their black brows, and for the gentle +expression of her mouth and smile. She rarely smiled, but her smile was +always striking. She seemed to radiate virginal strength and health. +All the girls were good-looking, but they themselves and Belétski, and +the orderly when he brought in the spice-cakes, all involuntarily gazed +at Maryánka, and anyone addressing the girls was sure to address her. +She seemed a proud and happy queen among them. + +Belétski, trying to keep up the spirit of the party, chattered +incessantly, made the girls hand round _chikhir_, fooled about with +them, and kept making improper remarks in French about Maryánka’s +beauty to Olénin, calling her “yours” (_la vôtre_), and advising him to +behave as he did himself. Olénin felt more and more uncomfortable. He +was devising an excuse to get out and run away when Belétski announced +that Ústenka, whose saint’s day it was, must offer _chikhir_ to +everybody with a kiss. She consented on condition that they should put +money on her plate, as is the custom at weddings. + +“What fiend brought me to this disgusting feast?” thought Olénin, +rising to go away. + +“Where are you off to?” + +“I’ll fetch some tobacco,” he said, meaning to escape, but Belétski +seized his hand. + +“I have some money,” he said to him in French. + +“One can’t go away, one has to pay here,” thought Olénin bitterly, +vexed at his own awkwardness. “Can’t I really behave like Belétski? I +ought not to have come, but once I am here I must not spoil their fun. +I must drink like a Cossack,” and taking the wooden bowl (holding about +eight tumblers) he almost filled it with _chikhir_ and drank it almost +all. The girls looked at him, surprised and almost frightened, as he +drank. It seemed to them strange and not right. Ústenka brought them +another glass each, and kissed them both. “There girls, now we’ll have +some fun,” she said, clinking on the plate the four rubles the men had +put there. + +Olénin no longer felt awkward, but became talkative. + +“Now, Maryánka, it’s your turn to offer us wine and a kiss,” said +Belétski, seizing her hand. + +“Yes, I’ll give you such a kiss!” she said playfully, preparing to +strike at him. + +“One can kiss Grandad without payment,” said another girl. + +“There’s a sensible girl,” said Belétski, kissing the struggling girl. +“No, you must offer it,” he insisted, addressing Maryánka. “Offer a +glass to your lodger.” + +And taking her by the hand he led her to the bench and sat her down +beside Olénin. + +“What a beauty,” he said, turning her head to see it in profile. + +Maryánka did not resist but proudly smiling turned her long eyes +towards Olénin. + +“A beautiful girl,” repeated Belétski. + +“Yes, see what a beauty I am,” Maryánka’s look seemed to endorse. +Without considering what he was doing Olénin embraced Maryánka and was +going to kiss her, but she suddenly extricated herself, upsetting +Belétski and pushing the top off the table, and sprang away towards the +oven. There was much shouting and laughter. Then Belétski whispered +something to the girls and suddenly they all ran out into the passage +and locked the door behind them. + +“Why did you kiss Belétski and won’t kiss me?” asked Olénin. + +“Oh, just so. I don’t want to, that’s all!” she answered, pouting and +frowning. “He’s Grandad,” she added with a smile. She went to the door +and began to bang at it. “Why have you locked the door, you devils?” + +“Well, let them be there and us here,” said Olénin, drawing closer to +her. + +She frowned, and sternly pushed him away with her hand. And again she +appeared so majestically handsome to Olénin that he came to his senses +and felt ashamed of what he was doing. He went to the door and began +pulling at it himself. + +“Belétski! Open the door! What a stupid joke!” + +Maryánka again gave a bright happy laugh. “Ah, you’re afraid of me?” +she said. + +“Yes, you know you’re as cross as your mother.” + +“Spend more of your time with Eróshka; that will make the girls love +you!” And she smiled, looking straight and close into his eyes. + +He did not know what to reply. “And if I were to come to see you—” he +let fall. + +“That would be a different matter,” she replied, tossing her head. + +At that moment Belétski pushed the door open, and Maryánka sprang away +from Olénin and in doing so her thigh struck his leg. + +“It’s all nonsense what I have been thinking about—love and +self-sacrifice and Lukáshka. Happiness is the one thing. He who is +happy is right,” flashed through Olénin’s mind, and with a strength +unexpected to himself he seized and kissed the beautiful Maryánka on +her temple and her cheek. Maryánka was not angry, but only burst into a +loud laugh and ran out to the other girls. + +That was the end of the party. Ústenka’s mother, returned from her +work, gave all the girls a scolding, and turned them all out. + + + + + Chapter XXVI + + +“Yes,” thought Olénin, as he walked home. “I need only slacken the +reins a bit and I might fall desperately in love with this Cossack +girl.” He went to bed with these thoughts, but expected it all to blow +over and that he would continue to live as before. + +But the old life did not return. His relations to Maryánka were +changed. The wall that had separated them was broken down. Olénin now +greeted her every time they met. + +The master of the house having returned to collect the rent, on hearing +of Olénin’s wealth and generosity invited him to his hut. The old woman +received him kindly, and from the day of the party onwards Olénin often +went in of an evening and sat with them till late at night. He seemed +to be living in the village just as he used to, but within him +everything had changed. He spent his days in the forest, and towards +eight o’clock, when it began to grow dusk, he would go to see his +hosts, alone or with Daddy Eróshka. They grew so used to him that they +were surprised when he stayed away. He paid well for his wine and was a +quiet fellow. Vanyúsha would bring him his tea and he would sit down in +a corner near the oven. The old woman did not mind him but went on with +her work, and over their tea or their _chikhir_ they talked about +Cossack affairs, about the neighbours, or about Russia: Olénin relating +and the others inquiring. Sometimes he brought a book and read to +himself. Maryánka crouched like a wild goat with her feet drawn up +under her, sometimes on the top of the oven, sometimes in a dark +corner. She did not take part in the conversations, but Olénin saw her +eyes and face and heard her moving or cracking sunflower seeds, and he +felt that she listened with her whole being when he spoke, and was +aware of his presence while he silently read to himself. Sometimes he +thought her eyes were fixed on him, and meeting their radiance he +involuntarily became silent and gazed at her. Then she would instantly +hide her face and he would pretend to be deep in conversation with the +old woman, while he listened all the time to her breathing and to her +every movement and waited for her to look at him again. In the presence +of others she was generally bright and friendly with him, but when they +were alone together she was shy and rough. Sometimes he came in before +Maryánka had returned home. Suddenly he would hear her firm footsteps +and catch a glimmer of her blue cotton smock at the open door. Then she +would step into the middle of the hut, catch sight of him, and her eyes +would give a scarcely perceptible kindly smile, and he would feel happy +and frightened. + +He neither sought for nor wished for anything from her, but every day +her presence became more and more necessary to him. + +Olénin had entered into the life of the Cossack village so fully that +his past seemed quite foreign to him. As to the future, especially a +future outside the world in which he was now living, it did not +interest him at all. When he received letters from home, from relatives +and friends, he was offended by the evident distress with which they +regarded him as a lost man, while he in his village considered those as +lost who did not live as he was living. He felt sure he would never +repent of having broken away from his former surroundings and of having +settled down in this village to such a solitary and original life. When +out on expeditions, and when quartered at one of the forts, he felt +happy too; but it was here, from under Daddy Eróshka’s wing, from the +forest and from his hut at the end of the village, and especially when +he thought of Maryánka and Lukáshka, that he seemed to see the +falseness of his former life. That falseness used to rouse his +indignation even before, but now it seemed inexpressibly vile and +ridiculous. Here he felt freer and freer every day and more and more of +a man. The Caucasus now appeared entirely different to what his +imagination had painted it. He had found nothing at all like his +dreams, nor like the descriptions of the Caucasus he had heard and +read. “There are none of all those chestnut steeds, precipices, Amalet +Beks, heroes or villains,” thought he. “The people live as nature +lives: they die, are born, unite, and more are born—they fight, eat and +drink, rejoice and die, without any restrictions but those that nature +imposes on sun and grass, on animal and tree. They have no other laws.” +Therefore these people, compared to himself, appeared to him beautiful, +strong, and free, and the sight of them made him feel ashamed and sorry +for himself. Often it seriously occurred to him to throw up everything, +to get registered as a Cossack, to buy a hut and cattle and marry a +Cossack woman (only not Maryánka, whom he conceded to Lukáshka), and to +live with Daddy Eróshka and go shooting and fishing with him, and go +with the Cossacks on their expeditions. “Why ever don’t I do it? What +am I waiting for?” he asked himself, and he egged himself on and shamed +himself. “Am I afraid of doing what I hold to be reasonable and right? +Is the wish to be a simple Cossack, to live close to nature, not to +injure anyone but even to do good to others, more stupid than my former +dreams, such as those of becoming a minister of state or a colonel?” +but a voice seemed to say that he should wait, and not take any +decision. He was held back by a dim consciousness that he could not +live altogether like Eróshka and Lukáshka because he had a different +idea of happiness—he was held back by the thought that happiness lies +in self-sacrifice. What he had done for Lukáshka continued to give him +joy. He kept looking for occasions to sacrifice himself for others, but +did not meet with them. Sometimes he forgot this newly discovered +recipe for happiness and considered himself capable of identifying his +life with Daddy Eróshka’s, but then he quickly bethought himself and +promptly clutched at the idea of conscious self-sacrifice, and from +that basis looked calmly and proudly at all men and at their happiness. + + + + + Chapter XXVII + + +Just before the vintage Lukáshka came on horseback to see Olénin. He +looked more dashing than ever. + +“Well? Are you getting married?” asked Olénin, greeting him merrily. + +Lukáshka gave no direct reply. + +“There, I’ve exchanged your horse across the river. This _is_ a horse! +A Kabardá horse from the Lov stud. I know horses.” + +They examined the new horse and made him caracole about the yard. The +horse really was an exceptionally fine one, a broad and long gelding, +with glossy coat, thick silky tail, and the soft fine mane and crest of +a thoroughbred. He was so well fed that “you might go to sleep on his +back” as Lukáshka expressed it. His hoofs, eyes, teeth, were +exquisitely shaped and sharply outlined, as one only finds them in very +pure-bred horses. Olénin could not help admiring the horse, he had not +yet met with such a beauty in the Caucasus. + +“And how it goes!” said Lukáshka, patting its neck. “What a step! And +so clever—he simply runs after his master.” + +“Did you have to add much to make the exchange?” asked Olénin. + +“I did not count it,” answered Lukáshka with a smile. “I got him from a +_kunak_.” + +“A wonderfully beautiful horse! What would you take for it?” asked +Olénin. + +“I have been offered a hundred and fifty rubles for it, but I’ll give +it you for nothing,” said Lukáshka, merrily. “Only say the word and +it’s yours. I’ll unsaddle it and you may take it. Only give me some +sort of a horse for my duties.” + +“No, on no account.” + +“Well then, here is a dagger I’ve brought you,” said Lukáshka, +unfastening his girdle and taking out one of the two daggers which hung +from it. “I got it from across the river.” + +“Oh, thank you!” + +“And mother has promised to bring you some grapes herself.” + +“That’s quite unnecessary. We’ll balance up some day. You see I don’t +offer you any money for the dagger!” + +“How could you? We are _kunaks_. It’s just the same as when Giréy Khan +across the river took me into his home and said, ‘Choose what you +like!’ So I took this sword. It’s our custom.” + +They went into the hut and had a drink. + +“Are you staying here awhile?” asked Olénin. + +“No, I have come to say good-bye. They are sending me from the cordon +to a company beyond the Térek. I am going tonight with my comrade +Nazárka.” + +“And when is the wedding to be?” + +“I shall be coming back for the betrothal, and then I shall return to +the company again,” Lukáshka replied reluctantly. + +“What, and see nothing of your betrothed?” + +“Just so—what is the good of looking at her? When you go on campaign +ask in our company for Lukáshka the Broad. But what a lot of boars +there are in our parts! I’ve killed two. I’ll take you.” + +“Well, good-bye! Christ save you.” + +Lukáshka mounted his horse, and without calling on Maryánka, rode +caracoling down the street, where Nazárka was already awaiting him. + +“I say, shan’t we call round?” asked Nazárka, winking in the direction +of Yámka’s house. + +“That’s a good one!” said Lukáshka. “Here, take my horse to her and if +I don’t come soon give him some hay. I shall reach the company by the +morning anyway.” + +“Hasn’t the cadet given you anything more?” + +“I am thankful to have paid him back with a dagger—he was going to ask +for the horse,” said Lukáshka, dismounting and handing over the horse +to Nazárka. + +He darted into the yard past Olénin’s very window, and came up to the +window of the cornet’s hut. It was already quite dark. Maryánka, +wearing only her smock, was combing her hair preparing for bed. + +“It’s I—” whispered the Cossack. + +Maryánka’s look was severely indifferent, but her face suddenly +brightened up when she heard her name. She opened the window and leant +out, frightened and joyous. + +“What—what do you want?” she said. + +“Open!” uttered Lukáshka. “Let me in for a minute. I am so sick of +waiting! It’s awful!” + +He took hold of her head through the window and kissed her. + +“Really, do open!” + +“Why do you talk nonsense? I’ve told you I won’t! Have you come for +long?” + +He did not answer but went on kissing her, and she did not ask again. + +“There, through the window one can’t even hug you properly,” said +Lukáshka. + +“Maryánka dear!” came the voice of her mother, “who is that with you?” + +Lukáshka took off his cap, which might have been seen, and crouched +down by the window. + +“Go, be quick!” whispered Maryánka. + +“Lukáshka called round,” she answered; “he was asking for Daddy.” + +“Well then send him here!” + +“He’s gone; said he was in a hurry.” + +In fact, Lukáshka, stooping, as with big strides he passed under the +windows, ran out through the yard and towards Yámka’s house unseen by +anyone but Olénin. After drinking two bowls of _chikhir_ he and Nazárka +rode away to the outpost. The night was warm, dark, and calm. They rode +in silence, only the footfall of their horses was heard. Lukáshka +started a song about the Cossack, Mingál, but stopped before he had +finished the first verse, and after a pause, turning to Nazárka, said: + +“I say, she wouldn’t let me in!” + +“Oh?” rejoined Nazárka. “I knew she wouldn’t. D’you know what Yámka +told me? The cadet has begun going to their house. Daddy Eróshka brags +that he got a gun from the cadet for getting him Maryánka.” + +“He lies, the old devil!” said Lukáshka, angrily. “She’s not such a +girl. If he does not look out I’ll wallop that old devil’s sides,” and +he began his favourite song: + +“From the village of Izmáylov, +From the master’s favourite garden, +Once escaped a keen-eyed falcon. +Soon after him a huntsman came a-riding, +And he beckoned to the falcon that had strayed, +But the bright-eyed bird thus answered: +‘In gold cage you could not keep me, +On your hand you could not hold me, +So now I fly to blue seas far away. +There a white swan I will kill, +Of sweet swan-flesh have my fill.’” + + + + + Chapter XXVIII + + +The betrothal was taking place in the cornet’s hut. Lukáshka had +returned to the village, but had not been to see Olénin, and Olénin had +not gone to the betrothal though he had been invited. He was sad as he +had never been since he settled in this Cossack village. He had seen +Lukáshka earlier in the evening and was worried by the question why +Lukáshka was so cold towards him. Olénin shut himself up in his hut and +began writing in his diary as follows: + +“Many things have I pondered over lately and much have I changed,” +wrote he, “and I have come back to the copybook maxim: The one way to +be happy is to love, to love self-denyingly, to love everybody and +everything; to spread a web of love on all sides and to take all who +come into it. In this way I caught Vanyúsha, Daddy Eróshka, Lukáshka, +and Maryánka.” + +As Olénin was finishing this sentence Daddy Eróshka entered the room. + +Eróshka was in the happiest frame of mind. A few evenings before this, +Olénin had gone to see him and had found him with a proud and happy +face deftly skinning the carcass of a boar with a small knife in the +yard. The dogs (Lyam his pet among them) were lying close by watching +what he was doing and gently wagging their tails. The little boys were +respectfully looking at him through the fence and not even teasing him +as was their wont. His women neighbours, who were as a rule not too +gracious towards him, greeted him and brought him, one a jug of +_chikhir_, another some clotted cream, and a third a little flour. The +next day Eróshka sat in his store-room all covered with blood, and +distributed pounds of boar-flesh, taking in payment money from some and +wine from others. His face clearly expressed, “God has sent me luck. I +have killed a boar, so now I am wanted.” Consequently, he naturally +began to drink, and had gone on for four days never leaving the +village. Besides which he had had something to drink at the betrothal. + +He came to Olénin quite drunk: his face red, his beard tangled, but +wearing a new _beshmet_ trimmed with gold braid; and he brought with +him a _balaláyka_ which he had obtained beyond the river. He had long +promised Olénin this treat, and felt in the mood for it, so that he was +sorry to find Olénin writing. + +“Write on, write on, my lad,” he whispered, as if he thought that a +spirit sat between him and the paper and must not be frightened away, +and he softly and silently sat down on the floor. When Daddy Eróshka +was drunk his favourite position was on the floor. Olénin looked round, +ordered some wine to be brought, and continued to write. Eróshka found +it dull to drink by himself and he wished to talk. + +“I’ve been to the betrothal at the cornet’s. But there! They’re +shwine!—Don’t want them!—Have come to you.” + +“And where did you get your _balaláyka?_” asked Olénin, still writing. + +“I’ve been beyond the river and got it there, brother mine,” he +answered, also very quietly. “I’m a master at it. Tartar or Cossack, +squire or soldiers’ songs, any kind you please.” + +Olénin looked at him again, smiled, and went on writing. + +That smile emboldened the old man. + +“Come, leave off, my lad, leave off!” he said with sudden firmness. + +“Well, perhaps I will.” + +“Come, people have injured you but leave them alone, spit at them! +Come, what’s the use of writing and writing, what’s the good?” + +And he tried to mimic Olénin by tapping the floor with his thick +fingers, and then twisted his big face to express contempt. + +“What’s the good of writing quibbles. Better have a spree and show +you’re a man!” + +No other conception of writing found place in his head except that of +legal chicanery. + +Olénin burst out laughing and so did Eróshka. Then, jumping up from the +floor, the latter began to show off his skill on the _balaláyka_ and to +sing Tartar songs. + +“Why write, my good fellow! You’d better listen to what I’ll sing to +you. When you’re dead you won’t hear any more songs. Make merry now!” + +First he sang a song of his own composing accompanied by a dance: + +“Ah, dee, dee, dee, dee, dee, dim, +Say where did they last see him? +In a booth, at the fair, +He was selling pins, there.” + + +Then he sang a song he had learnt from his former sergeant-major: + +“Deep I fell in love on Monday, +Tuesday nothing did but sigh, +Wednesday I popped the question, +Thursday waited her reply. +Friday, late, it came at last, +Then all hope for me was past! +Saturday my life to take +I determined like a man, +But for my salvation’s sake +Sunday morning changed my plan!” + + +Then he sang again: + +“Oh dee, dee, dee, dee, dee, dim, +Say where did they last see him?” + + +And after that, winking, twitching his shoulders, and footing it to the +tune, he sang: + +“I will kiss you and embrace, +Ribbons red twine round you; +And I’ll call you little Grace. +Oh, you little Grace now do +Tell me, do you love me true?” + + +And he became so excited that with a sudden dashing movement he started +dancing around the room accompanying himself the while. + +Songs like “Dee, dee, dee”—“gentlemen’s songs”—he sang for Olénin’s +benefit, but after drinking three more tumblers of _chikhir_ he +remembered old times and began singing real Cossack and Tartar songs. +In the midst of one of his favourite songs his voice suddenly trembled +and he ceased singing, and only continued strumming on the _balaláyka_. + +“Oh, my dear friend!” he said. + +The peculiar sound of his voice made Olénin look round. + +The old man was weeping. Tears stood in his eyes and one tear was +running down his cheek. + +“You are gone, my young days, and will never come back!” he said, +blubbering and halting. “Drink, why don’t you drink!” he suddenly +shouted with a deafening roar, without wiping away his tears. + +There was one Tartar song that specially moved him. It had few words, +but its charm lay in the sad refrain. “Ay day, dalalay!” Eróshka +translated the words of the song: “A youth drove his sheep from the +_aoul_ to the mountains: the Russians came and burnt the _aoul_, they +killed all the men and took all the women into bondage. The youth +returned from the mountains. Where the _aoul_ had stood was an empty +space; his mother not there, nor his brothers, nor his house; one tree +alone was left standing. The youth sat beneath the tree and wept. +‘Alone like thee, alone am I left,’” and Eróshka began singing: “Ay +day, dalalay!” and the old man repeated several times this wailing, +heart-rending refrain. + +When he had finished the refrain Eróshka suddenly seized a gun that +hung on the wall, rushed hurriedly out into the yard and fired off both +barrels into the air. Then again he began, more dolefully, his “Ay day, +dalalay—ah, ah,” and ceased. + +Olénin followed him into the porch and looked up into the starry sky in +the direction where the shots had flashed. In the cornet’s house there +were lights and the sound of voices. In the yard girls were crowding +round the porch and the windows, and running backwards and forwards +between the hut and the outhouse. Some Cossacks rushed out of the hut +and could not refrain from shouting, re-echoing the refrain of Daddy +Eróshka’s song and his shots. + +“Why are you not at the betrothal?” asked Olénin. + +“Never mind them! Never mind them!” muttered the old man, who had +evidently been offended by something there. “Don’t like them, I don’t. +Oh, those people! Come back into the hut! Let them make merry by +themselves and we’ll make merry by ourselves.” + +Olénin went in. + +“And Lukáshka, is he happy? Won’t he come to see me?” he asked. + +“What, Lukáshka? They’ve lied to him and said I am getting his girl for +you,” whispered the old man. “But what’s the girl? She will be ours if +we want her. Give enough money—and she’s ours. I’ll fix it up for you. +Really!” + +“No, Daddy, money can do nothing if she does not love me. You’d better +not talk like that!” + +“We are not loved, you and I. We are forlorn,” said Daddy Eróshka +suddenly, and again he began to cry. + +Listening to the old man’s talk Olénin had drunk more than usual. “So +now my Lukáshka is happy,” thought he; yet he felt sad. The old man had +drunk so much that evening that he fell down on the floor and Vanyúsha +had to call soldiers in to help, and spat as they dragged the old man +out. He was so angry with the old man for his bad behaviour that he did +not even say a single French word. + + + + + Chapter XXIX + + +It was August. For days the sky had been cloudless, the sun scorched +unbearably and from early morning the warm wind raised a whirl of hot +sand from the sand-drifts and from the road, and bore it in the air +through the reeds, the trees, and the village. The grass and the leaves +on the trees were covered with dust, the roads and dried-up salt +marshes were baked so hard that they rang when trodden on. The water +had long since subsided in the Térek and rapidly vanished and dried up +in the ditches. The slimy banks of the pond near the village were +trodden bare by the cattle and all day long you could hear the +splashing of water and the shouting of girls and boys bathing. The +sand-drifts and the reeds were already drying up in the steppes, and +the cattle, lowing, ran into the fields in the day-time. The boars +migrated into the distant reed-beds and to the hills beyond the Térek. +Mosquitoes and gnats swarmed in thick clouds over the low lands and +villages. The snow-peaks were hidden in grey mist. The air was rarefied +and smoky. It was said that _abreks_ had crossed the now shallow river +and were prowling on this side of it. Every night the sun set in a +glowing red blaze. It was the busiest time of the year. The villagers +all swarmed in the melon-fields and the vineyards. The vineyards +thickly overgrown with twining verdure lay in cool, deep shade. +Everywhere between the broad translucent leaves, ripe, heavy, black +clusters peeped out. Along the dusty road from the vineyards the +creaking carts moved slowly, heaped up with black grapes. Clusters of +them, crushed by the wheels, lay in the dirt. Boys and girls in smocks +stained with grape-juice, with grapes in their hands and mouths, ran +after their mothers. On the road you continually came across tattered +labourers with baskets of grapes on their powerful shoulders; Cossack +maidens, veiled with kerchiefs to their eyes, drove bullocks harnessed +to carts laden high with grapes. Soldiers who happened to meet these +carts asked for grapes, and the maidens, clambering up without stopping +their carts, would take an armful of grapes and drop them into the +skirts of the soldiers’ coats. In some homesteads they had already +begun pressing the grapes; and the smell of the emptied skins filled +the air. One saw the blood-red troughs in the pent-houses in the yards +and Nogáy labourers with their trousers rolled up and their legs +stained with the juice. Grunting pigs gorged themselves with the empty +skins and rolled about in them. The flat roofs of the outhouses were +all spread over with the dark amber clusters drying in the sun. Daws +and magpies crowded round the roofs, picking the seeds and fluttering +from one place to another. + +The fruits of the year’s labour were being merrily gathered in, and +this year the fruit was unusually fine and plentiful. + +In the shady green vineyards amid a sea of vines, laughter, songs, +merriment, and the voices of women were to be heard on all sides, and +glimpses of their bright-coloured garments could be seen. + +Just at noon Maryánka was sitting in their vineyard in the shade of a +peach-tree, getting out the family dinner from under an unharnessed +cart. Opposite her, on a spread-out horse-cloth, sat the cornet (who +had returned from the school) washing his hands by pouring water on +them from a little jug. Her little brother, who had just come straight +out of the pond, stood wiping his face with his wide sleeves, and gazed +anxiously at his sister and his mother and breathed deeply, awaiting +his dinner. The old mother, with her sleeves rolled up over her strong +sunburnt arms, was arranging grapes, dried fish, and clotted cream on a +little low, circular Tartar table. The cornet wiped his hands, took off +his cap, crossed himself, and moved nearer to the table. The boy seized +the jug and eagerly began to drink. The mother and daughter crossed +their legs under them and sat down by the table. Even in the shade it +was intolerably hot. The air above the vineyard smelt unpleasant: the +strong warm wind passing amid the branches brought no coolness, but +only monotonously bent the tops of the pear, peach, and mulberry trees +with which the vineyard was sprinkled. The cornet, having crossed +himself once more, took a little jug of _chikhir_ that stood behind him +covered with a vine-leaf, and having had a drink from the mouth of the +jug passed it to the old woman. He had nothing on over his shirt, which +was unfastened at the neck and showed his shaggy muscular chest. His +fine-featured cunning face looked cheerful; neither in his attitude nor +in his words was his usual wiliness to be seen; he was cheerful and +natural. + +“Shall we finish the bit beyond the shed tonight?” he asked, wiping his +wet beard. + +“We’ll manage it,” replied his wife, “if only the weather does not +hinder us. The Dëmkins have not half finished yet,” she added. “Only +Ústenka is at work there, wearing herself out.” + +“What can you expect of them?” said the old man proudly. + +“Here, have a drink, Maryánka dear!” said the old woman, passing the +jug to the girl. “God willing we’ll have enough to pay for the wedding +feast,” she added. + +“That’s not yet awhile,” said the cornet with a slight frown. + +The girl hung her head. + +“Why shouldn’t we mention it?” said the old woman. “The affair is +settled, and the time is drawing near too.” + +“Don’t make plans beforehand,” said the cornet. “Now we have the +harvest to get in.” + +“Have you seen Lukáshka’s new horse?” asked the old woman. “That which +Dmítri Andréich Olénin gave him is gone — he’s exchanged it.” + +“No, I have not; but I spoke with the servant today,” said the cornet, +“and he said his master has again received a thousand rubles.” + +“Rolling in riches, in short,” said the old woman. + +The whole family felt cheerful and contented. + +The work was progressing successfully. The grapes were more abundant +and finer than they had expected. After dinner Maryánka threw some +grass to the oxen, folded her _beshmet_ for a pillow, and lay down +under the wagon on the juicy down-trodden grass. She had on only a red +kerchief over her head and a faded blue print smock, yet she felt +unbearably hot. Her face was burning, and she did not know where to put +her feet, her eyes were moist with sleepiness and weariness, her lips +parted involuntarily, and her chest heaved heavily and deeply. + +The busy time of year had begun a fortnight ago and the continuous +heavy labour had filled the girl’s life. At dawn she jumped up, washed +her face with cold water, wrapped herself in a shawl, and ran out +barefoot to see to the cattle. Then she hurriedly put on her shoes and +her _beshmet_ and, taking a small bundle of bread, she harnessed the +bullocks and drove away to the vineyards for the whole day. There she +cut the grapes and carried the baskets with only an hour’s interval for +rest, and in the evening she returned to the village, bright and not +tired, dragging the bullocks by a rope or driving them with a long +stick. After attending to the cattle, she took some sunflower seeds in +the wide sleeve of her smock and went to the corner of the street to +crack them and have some fun with the other girls. But as soon as it +was dusk she returned home, and after having supper with her parents +and her brother in the dark outhouse, she went into the hut, healthy +and free from care, and climbed onto the oven, where half drowsing she +listened to their lodger’s conversation. As soon as he went away she +would throw herself down on her bed and sleep soundly and quietly till +morning. And so it went on day after day. She had not seen Lukáshka +since the day of their betrothal, but calmly awaited the wedding. She +had got used to their lodger and felt his intent looks with pleasure. + + + + + Chapter XXX + + +Although there was no escape from the heat and the mosquitoes swarmed +in the cool shadow of the wagons, and her little brother tossing about +beside her kept pushing her, Maryánka having drawn her kerchief over +her head was just falling asleep, when suddenly their neighbour Ústenka +came running towards her and, diving under the wagon, lay down beside +her. + +“Sleep, girls, sleep!” said Ústenka, making herself comfortable under +the wagon. “Wait a bit,” she exclaimed, “this won’t do!” + +She jumped up, plucked some green branches, and stuck them through the +wheels on both sides of the wagon and hung her _beshmet_ over them. + +“Let me in,” she shouted to the little boy as she again crept under the +wagon. “Is this the place for a Cossack—with the girls? Go away!” + +When alone under the wagon with her friend, Ústenka suddenly put both +her arms round her, and clinging close to her began kissing her cheeks +and neck. + +“Darling, sweetheart,” she kept repeating, between bursts of shrill, +clear laughter. + +“Why, you’ve learnt it from Grandad,” said Maryánka, struggling. “Stop +it!” + +And they both broke into such peals of laughter that Maryánka’s mother +shouted to them to be quiet. + +“Are you jealous?” asked Ústenka in a whisper. + +“What humbug! Let me sleep. What have you come for?” + +But Ústenka kept on, “I say! But I wanted to tell you such a thing.” + +Maryánka raised herself on her elbow and arranged the kerchief which +had slipped off. + +“Well, what is it?” + +“I know something about your lodger!” + +“There’s nothing to know,” said Maryánka. + +“Oh, you rogue of a girl!” said Ústenka, nudging her with her elbow and +laughing. “Won’t tell anything. Does he come to you?” + +“He does. What of that?” said Maryánka with a sudden blush. + +“Now I’m a simple lass. I tell everybody. Why should I pretend?” said +Ústenka, and her bright rosy face suddenly became pensive. “Whom do I +hurt? I love him, that’s all about it.” + +“Grandad, do you mean?” + +“Well, yes!” + +“And the sin?” + +“Ah, Maryánka! When is one to have a good time if not while one’s still +free? When I marry a Cossack I shall bear children and shall have +cares. There now, when you get married to Lukáshka not even a thought +of joy will enter your head: children will come, and work!” + +“Well? Some who are married live happily. It makes no difference!” +Maryánka replied quietly. + +“Do tell me just this once what has passed between you and Lukáshka?” + +“What has passed? A match was proposed. Father put it off for a year, +but now it’s been settled and they’ll marry us in autumn.” + +“But what did he say to you?” + +Maryánka smiled. + +“What should he say? He said he loved me. He kept asking me to come to +the vineyards with him.” + +“Just see what pitch! But you didn’t go, did you? And what a dare-devil +he has become: the first among the braves. He makes merry out there in +the army too! The other day our Kírka came home; he says: ‘What a horse +Lukáshka’s got in exchange!’ But all the same I expect he frets after +you. And what else did he say?” + +“Must you know everything?” said Maryánka laughing. “One night he came +to my window tipsy, and asked me to let him in.” + +“And you didn’t let him?” + +“Let him, indeed! Once I have said a thing I keep to it firm as a +rock,” answered Maryánka seriously. + +“A fine fellow! If he wanted her, no girl would refuse him.” + +“Well, let him go to the others,” replied Maryánka proudly. + +“You don’t pity him?” + +“I do pity him, but I’ll have no nonsense. It is wrong.” + +Ústenka suddenly dropped her head on her friend’s breast, seized hold +of her, and shook with smothered laughter. “You silly fool!” she +exclaimed, quite out of breath. “You don’t want to be happy,” and she +began tickling Maryánka. + +“Oh, leave off!” said Maryánka, screaming and laughing. “You’ve crushed +Lazútka.” + +“Hark at those young devils! Quite frisky! Not tired yet!” came the old +woman’s sleepy voice from the wagon. + +“Don’t want happiness,” repeated Ústenka in a whisper, insistently. +“But you are lucky, that you are! How they love you! You are so crusty, +and yet they love you. Ah, if I were in your place I’d soon turn the +lodger’s head! I noticed him when you were at our house. He was ready +to eat you with his eyes. What things Grandad has given me! And yours +they say is the richest of the Russians. His orderly says they have +serfs of their own.” + +Maryánka raised herself, and after thinking a moment, smiled. + +“Do you know what he once told me: the lodger I mean?” she said, biting +a bit of grass. “He said, ‘I’d like to be Lukáshka the Cossack, or your +brother Lazútka—.’ What do you think he meant?” + +“Oh, just chattering what came into his head,” answered Ústenka. “What +does mine not say! Just as if he was possessed!” + +Maryánka dropped her hand on her folded _beshmet_, threw her arm over +Ústenka’s shoulder, and shut her eyes. + +“He wanted to come and work in the vineyard today: father invited him,” +she said, and after a short silence she fell asleep. + + + + + Chapter XXXI + + +The sun had come out from behind the pear-tree that had shaded the +wagon, and even through the branches that Ústenka had fixed up it +scorched the faces of the sleeping girls. Maryánka woke up and began +arranging the kerchief on her head. Looking about her, beyond the +pear-tree she noticed their lodger, who with his gun on his shoulder +stood talking to her father. She nudged Ústenka and smilingly pointed +him out to her. + +“I went yesterday and didn’t find a single one,” Olénin was saying as +he looked about uneasily, not seeing Maryánka through the branches. + +“Ah, you should go out there in that direction, go right as by +compasses, there in a disused vineyard denominated as the Waste, hares +are always to be found,” said the cornet, having at once changed his +manner of speech. + +“A fine thing to go looking for hares in these busy times! You had +better come and help us, and do some work with the girls,” the old +woman said merrily. “Now then, girls, up with you!” she cried. + +Maryánka and Ústenka under the cart were whispering and could hardly +restrain their laughter. + +Since it had become known that Olénin had given a horse worth fifty +rubles to Lukáshka, his hosts had become more amiable and the cornet in +particular saw with pleasure his daughter’s growing intimacy with +Olénin. + +“But I don’t know how to do the work,” replied Olénin, trying not to +look through the green branches under the wagon where he had now +noticed Maryánka’s blue smock and red kerchief. + +“Come, I’ll give you some peaches,” said the old woman. + +“It’s only according to the ancient Cossack hospitality. It’s her old +woman’s silliness,” said the cornet, explaining and apparently +correcting his wife’s words. “In Russia, I expect, it’s not so much +peaches as pineapple jam and preserves you have been accustomed to eat +at your pleasure.” + +“So you say hares are to be found in the disused vineyard?” asked +Olénin. “I will go there,” and throwing a hasty glance through the +green branches he raised his cap and disappeared between the regular +rows of green vines. + +The sun had already sunk behind the fence of the vineyards, and its +broken rays glittered through the translucent leaves when Olénin +returned to his host’s vineyard. The wind was falling and a cool +freshness was beginning to spread around. By some instinct Olénin +recognized from afar Maryánka’s blue smock among the rows of vine, and, +picking grapes on his way, he approached her. His highly excited dog +also now and then seized a low-hanging cluster of grapes in his +slobbering mouth. Maryánka, her face flushed, her sleeves rolled up, +and her kerchief down below her chin, was rapidly cutting the heavy +clusters and laying them in a basket. Without letting go of the vine +she had hold of, she stopped to smile pleasantly at him and resumed her +work. Olénin drew near and threw his gun behind his back to have his +hands free. “Where are your people? May God aid you! Are you alone?” he +meant to say but did not say, and only raised his cap in silence. + +He was ill at ease alone with Maryánka, but as if purposely to torment +himself he went up to her. + +“You’ll be shooting the women with your gun like that,” said Maryánka. + +“No, I shan’t shoot them.” + +They were both silent. + +Then after a pause she said: “You should help me.” + +He took out his knife and began silently to cut off the clusters. He +reached from under the leaves low down a thick bunch weighing about +three pounds, the grapes of which grew so close that they flattened +each other for want of space. He showed it to Maryánka. + +“Must they all be cut? Isn’t this one too green?” + +“Give it here.” + +Their hands touched. Olénin took her hand, and she looked at him +smiling. + +“Are you going to be married soon?” he asked. + +She did not answer, but turned away with a stern look. + +“Do you love Lukáshka?” + +“What’s that to you?” + +“I envy him!” + +“Very likely!” + +“No really. You are so beautiful!” + +And he suddenly felt terribly ashamed of having said it, so commonplace +did the words seem to him. He flushed, lost control of himself, and +seized both her hands. + +“Whatever I am, I’m not for you. Why do you make fun of me?” replied +Maryánka, but her look showed how certainly she knew he was not making +fun. + +“Making fun? If you only knew how I—” + +The words sounded still more commonplace, they accorded still less with +what he felt, but yet he continued, “I don’t know what I would not do +for you—” + +“Leave me alone, you pitch!” + +But her face, her shining eyes, her swelling bosom, her shapely legs, +said something quite different. It seemed to him that she understood +how petty were all things he had said, but that she was superior to +such considerations. It seemed to him she had long known all he wished +and was not able to tell her, but wanted to hear how he would say it. +“And how can she help knowing,” he thought, “since I only want to tell +her all that she herself is? But she does not wish to understand, does +not wish to reply.” + +“Hullo!” suddenly came Ústenka’s high voice from behind the vine at no +great distance, followed by her shrill laugh. “Come and help me, Dmítri +Andréich. I am all alone,” she cried, thrusting her round, naïve little +face through the vines. + +Olénin did not answer nor move from his place. + +Maryánka went on cutting and continually looked up at Olénin. He was +about to say something, but stopped, shrugged his shoulders and, having +jerked up his gun, walked out of the vineyard with rapid strides. + + + + + Chapter XXXII + + +He stopped once or twice, listening to the ringing laughter of Maryánka +and Ústenka who, having come together, were shouting something. Olénin +spent the whole evening hunting in the forest and returned home at dusk +without having killed anything. When crossing the road he noticed her +open the door of the outhouse, and her blue smock showed through it. He +called to Vanyúsha very loud so as to let her know that he was back, +and then sat down in the porch in his usual place. His hosts now +returned from the vineyard; they came out of the outhouse and into +their hut, but did not ask him in. Maryánka went twice out of the gate. +Once in the twilight it seemed to him that she was looking at him. He +eagerly followed her every movement, but could not make up his mind to +approach her. When she disappeared into the hut he left the porch and +began pacing up and down the yard, but Maryánka did not come out again. +Olénin spent the whole sleepless night out in the yard listening to +every sound in his hosts’ hut. He heard them talking early in the +evening, heard them having their supper and pulling out their cushions, +and going to bed; he heard Maryánka laughing at something, and then +heard everything growing gradually quiet. + +The cornet and his wife talked a while in whispers, and someone was +breathing. Olénin re-entered his hut. Vanyúsha lay asleep in his +clothes. Olénin envied him, and again went out to pace the yard, always +expecting something, but no one came, no one moved, and he only heard +the regular breathing of three people. He knew Maryánka’s breathing and +listened to it and to the beating of his own heart. In the village +everything was quiet. The waning moon rose late, and the deep-breathing +cattle in the yard became more visible as they lay down and slowly +rose. Olénin angrily asked himself, “What is it I want?” but could not +tear himself away from the enchantment of the night. Suddenly he +thought he distinctly heard the floor creak and the sound of footsteps +in his hosts’ hut. He rushed to the door, but all was silent again +except for the sound of regular breathing, and in the yard the +buffalo-cow, after a deep sigh, again moved, rose on her foreknees and +then on her feet, swished her tail, and something splashed steadily on +the dry clay ground; then she lay down again in the dim moonlight. He +asked himself: “What am I to do?” and definitely decided to go to bed, +but again he heard a sound, and in his imagination there arose the +image of Maryánka coming out into this moonlit misty night, and again +he rushed to her window and again heard the sound of footsteps. Not +till just before dawn did he go up to her window and push at the +shutter and then run to the door, and this time he really heard +Maryánka’s deep breathing and her footsteps. He took hold of the latch +and knocked. The floor hardly creaked under the bare cautious footsteps +which approached the door. The latch clicked, the door creaked, and he +noticed a faint smell of marjoram and pumpkin, and Maryánka’s whole +figure appeared in the doorway. He saw her only for an instant in the +moonlight. She slammed the door and, muttering something, ran lightly +back again. Olénin began rapping softly but nothing responded. He ran +to the window and listened. Suddenly he was startled by a shrill, +squeaky man’s voice. + +“Fine!” exclaimed a rather small young Cossack in a white cap, coming +across the yard close to Olénin. “I saw ... fine!” + +Olénin recognized Nazárka, and was silent, not knowing what to do or +say. + +“Fine! I’ll go and tell them at the office, and I’ll tell her father! +That’s a fine cornet’s daughter! One’s not enough for her.” + +“What do you want of me, what are you after?” uttered Olénin. + +“Nothing; only I’ll tell them at the office.” + +Nazárka spoke very loud, and evidently did so intentionally, adding: +“Just see what a clever cadet!” + +Olénin trembled and grew pale. + +“Come here, here!” He seized the Cossack firmly by the arm and drew him +towards his hut. + +“Nothing happened, she did not let me in, and I too mean no harm. She +is an honest girl—” + +“Eh, discuss—” + +“Yes, but all the same I’ll give you something now. Wait a bit!” + +Nazárka said nothing. Olénin ran into his hut and brought out ten +rubles, which he gave to the Cossack. + +“Nothing happened, but still I was to blame, so I give this!—Only for +God’s sake don’t let anyone know, for nothing happened...” + +“I wish you joy,” said Nazárka laughing, and went away. + +Nazárka had come to the village that night at Lukáshka’s bidding to +find a place to hide a stolen horse, and now, passing by on his way +home, had heard the sound of footsteps. When he returned next morning +to his company he bragged to his chum, and told him how cleverly he had +got ten rubles. Next morning Olénin met his hosts and they knew nothing +about the events of the night. He did not speak to Maryánka, and she +only laughed a little when she looked at him. Next night he also passed +without sleep, vainly wandering about the yard. The day after he +purposely spent shooting, and in the evening he went to see Belétski to +escape from his own thoughts. He was afraid of himself, and promised +himself not to go to his hosts’ hut any more. + +That night he was roused by the sergeant-major. His company was ordered +to start at once on a raid. Olénin was glad this had happened, and +thought he would not again return to the village. + +The raid lasted four days. The commander, who was a relative of +Olénin’s, wished to see him and offered to let him remain with the +staff, but this Olénin declined. He found that he could not live away +from the village, and asked to be allowed to return to it. For having +taken part in the raid he received a soldier’s cross, which he had +formerly greatly desired. Now he was quite indifferent about it, and +even more indifferent about his promotion, the order for which had +still not arrived. Accompanied by Vanyúsha he rode back to the cordon +without any accident several hours in advance of the rest of the +company. He spent the whole evening in his porch watching Maryánka, and +he again walked about the yard, without aim or thought, all night. + + + + + Chapter XXXIII + + +It was late when he awoke the next day. His hosts were no longer in. He +did not go shooting, but now took up a book, and now went out into the +porch, and now again re-entered the hut and lay down on the bed. +Vanyúsha thought he was ill. + +Towards evening Olénin got up, resolutely began writing, and wrote on +till late at night. He wrote a letter, but did not post it because he +felt that no one would have understood what he wanted to say, and +besides it was not necessary that anyone but himself should understand +it. + +This is what he wrote: + +“I receive letters of condolence from Russia. They are afraid that I +shall perish, buried in these wilds. They say about me: ‘He will become +coarse; he will be behind the times in everything; he will take to +drink, and who knows but that he may marry a Cossack girl.’ It was not +for nothing, they say, that Ermólov declared: ‘Anyone serving in the +Caucasus for ten years either becomes a confirmed drunkard or marries a +loose woman.’ How terrible! Indeed it won’t do for me to ruin myself +when I might have the great happiness of even becoming the Countess +B——’s husband, or a Court chamberlain, or a _Maréchal de noblesse_ of +my district. Oh, how repulsive and pitiable you all seem to me! You do +not know what happiness is and what life is! One must taste life once +in all its natural beauty, must see and understand what I see every day +before me—those eternally unapproachable snowy peaks, and a majestic +woman in that primitive beauty in which the first woman must have come +from her creator’s hands—and then it becomes clear who is ruining +himself and who is living truly or falsely—you or I. If you only knew +how despicable and pitiable you, in your delusions, seem to me! When I +picture to myself—in place of my hut, my forests, and my love—those +drawing-rooms, those women with their pomatum-greased hair eked out +with false curls, those unnaturally grimacing lips, those hidden, +feeble, distorted limbs, and that chatter of obligatory drawing-room +conversation which has no right to the name—I feel unendurably +revolted. I then see before me those obtuse faces, those rich eligible +girls whose looks seem to say: ‘It’s all right, you may come near +though I am rich and eligible’—and that arranging and rearranging of +seats, that shameless match-making and that eternal tittle-tattle and +pretence; those rules—with whom to shake hands, to whom only to nod, +with whom to converse (and all this done deliberately with a conviction +of its inevitability), that continual ennui in the blood passing on +from generation to generation. Try to understand or believe just this +one thing: you need only see and comprehend what truth and beauty are, +and all that you now say and think and all your wishes for me and for +yourselves will fly to atoms! + +“Happiness is being with nature, seeing her, and conversing with her. +‘He may even (God forbid) marry a common Cossack girl, and be quite +lost socially’ I can imagine them saying of me with sincere pity! Yet +the one thing I desire is to be quite ‘lost’ in your sense of the word. +I wish to marry a Cossack girl, and dare not because it would be a +height of happiness of which I am unworthy. + +“Three months have passed since I first saw the Cossack girl, Maryánka. +The views and prejudices of the world I had left were still fresh in +me. I did not then believe that I could love that woman. I delighted in +her beauty just as I delighted in the beauty of the mountains and the +sky, nor could I help delighting in her, for she is as beautiful as +they. I found that the sight of her beauty had become a necessity of my +life and I began asking myself whether I did not love her. But I could +find nothing within myself at all like love as I had imagined it to be. +Mine was not the restlessness of loneliness and desire for marriage, +nor was it platonic, still less a carnal love such as I have +experienced. I needed only to see her, to hear her, to know that she +was near—and if I was not happy, I was at peace. + +“After an evening gathering at which I met her and touched her, I felt +that between that woman and myself there existed an indissoluble though +unacknowledged bond against which I could not struggle, yet I did +struggle. I asked myself: ‘Is it possible to love a woman who will +never understand the profoundest interests of my life? Is it possible +to love a woman simply for her beauty, to love the statue of a woman?’ +But I was already in love with her, though I did not yet trust to my +feelings. + +“After that evening when I first spoke to her our relations changed. +Before that she had been to me an extraneous but majestic object of +external nature: but since then she has become a human being. I began +to meet her, to talk to her, and sometimes to go to work for her father +and to spend whole evenings with them, and in this intimate intercourse +she remained still in my eyes just as pure, inaccessible, and majestic. +She always responded with equal calm, pride, and cheerful equanimity. +Sometimes she was friendly, but generally her every look, every word, +and every movement expressed equanimity—not contemptuous, but crushing +and bewitching. Every day with a feigned smile on my lips I tried to +play a part, and with torments of passion and desire in my heart I +spoke banteringly to her. She saw that I was dissembling, but looked +straight at me cheerfully and simply. This position became unbearable. +I wished not to deceive her but to tell her all I thought and felt. I +was extremely agitated. We were in the vineyard when I began to tell +her of my love, in words I am now ashamed to remember. I am ashamed +because I ought not to have dared to speak so to her because she stood +far above such words and above the feeling they were meant to express. +I said no more, but from that day my position has been intolerable. I +did not wish to demean myself by continuing our former flippant +relations, and at the same time I felt that I had not yet reached the +level of straight and simple relations with her. I asked myself +despairingly, ‘What am I to do?’ In foolish dreams I imagined her now +as my mistress and now as my wife, but rejected both ideas with +disgust. To make her a wanton woman would be dreadful. It would be +murder. To turn her into a fine lady, the wife of Dmítri Andréich +Olénin, like a Cossack woman here who is married to one of our +officers, would be still worse. Now could I turn Cossack like Lukáshka, +and steal horses, get drunk on _chikhir_, sing rollicking songs, kill +people, and when drunk climb in at her window for the night without a +thought of who and what I am, it would be different: then we might +understand one another and I might be happy. + +“I tried to throw myself into that kind of life but was still more +conscious of my own weakness and artificiality. I cannot forget myself +and my complex, distorted past, and my future appears to me still more +hopeless. Every day I have before me the distant snowy mountains and +this majestic, happy woman. But not for me is the only happiness +possible in the world; I cannot have this woman! What is most terrible +and yet sweetest in my condition is that I feel that I understand her +but that she will never understand me; not because she is inferior: on +the contrary she ought not to understand me. She is happy, she is like +nature: consistent, calm, and self-contained; and I, a weak distorted +being, want her to understand my deformity and my torments! I have not +slept at night, but have aimlessly passed under her windows not +rendering account to myself of what was happening to me. On the 18th +our company started on a raid, and I spent three days away from the +village. I was sad and apathetic, the usual songs, cards, +drinking-bouts, and talk of rewards in the regiment, were more +repulsive to me than usual. Yesterday I returned home and saw her, my +hut. Daddy Eróshka, and the snowy mountains, from my porch, and was +seized by such a strong, new feeling of joy that I understood it all. I +love this woman; I feel real love for the first and only time in my +life. I know what has befallen me. I do not fear to be degraded by this +feeling, I am not ashamed of my love, I am proud of it. It is not my +fault that I love. It has come about against my will. I tried to escape +from my love by self-renunciation, and tried to devise a joy in the +Cossack Lukáshka’s and Maryánka’s love, but thereby only stirred up my +own love and jealousy. This is not the ideal, the so-called exalted +love which I have known before; not that sort of attachment in which +you admire your own love and feel that the source of your emotion is +within yourself and do everything yourself. I have felt that too. It is +still less a desire for enjoyment: it is something different. Perhaps +in her I love nature: the personification of all that is beautiful in +nature; but yet I am not acting by my own will, but some elemental +force loves through me; the whole of God’s world, all nature, presses +this love into my soul and says, ‘Love her.’ I love her not with my +mind or my imagination, but with my whole being. Loving her I feel +myself to be an integral part of all God’s joyous world. I wrote before +about the new convictions to which my solitary life had brought me, but +no one knows with what labour they shaped themselves within me and with +what joy I realized them and saw a new way of life opening out before +me; nothing was dearer to me than those convictions... Well! ... love +has come and neither they nor any regrets for them remain! It is even +difficult for me to believe that I could prize such a one-sided, cold, +and abstract state of mind. Beauty came and scattered to the winds all +that laborious inward toil, and no regret remains for what has +vanished! Self-renunciation is all nonsense and absurdity! That is +pride, a refuge from well-merited unhappiness, and salvation from the +envy of others’ happiness: ‘Live for others, and do good!’—Why? when in +my soul there is only love for myself and the desire to love her and to +live her life with her? Not for others, not for Lukáshka, I now desire +happiness. I do not now love those others. Formerly I should have told +myself that this is wrong. I should have tormented myself with the +questions: What will become of her, of me, and of Lukáshka? Now I don’t +care. I do not live my own life, there is something stronger than me +which directs me. I suffer; but formerly I was dead and only now do I +live. Today I will go to their house and tell her everything.” + + + + + Chapter XXXIV + + +Late that evening, after writing this letter, Olénin went to his hosts’ +hut. The old woman was sitting on a bench behind the oven unwinding +cocoons. Maryánka with her head uncovered sat sewing by the light of a +candle. On seeing Olénin she jumped up, took her kerchief and stepped +to the oven. + +“Maryánka dear,” said her mother, “won’t you sit here with me a bit?” + +“No, I’m bareheaded,” she replied, and sprang up on the oven. + +Olénin could only see a knee, and one of her shapely legs hanging down +from the oven. He treated the old woman to tea. She treated her guest +to clotted cream which she sent Maryánka to fetch. But having put a +plateful on the table Maryánka again sprang on the oven from whence +Olénin felt her eyes upon him. They talked about household matters. +Granny Ulítka became animated and went into raptures of hospitality. +She brought Olénin preserved grapes and a grape tart and some of her +best wine, and pressed him to eat and drink with the rough yet proud +hospitality of country folk, only found among those who produce their +bread by the labour of their own hands. + +The old woman, who had at first struck Olénin so much by her rudeness, +now often touched him by her simple tenderness towards her daughter. + +“Yes, we need not offend the Lord by grumbling! We have enough of +everything, thank God. We have pressed sufficient _chikhir_ and have +preserved and shall sell three or four barrels of grapes and have +enough left to drink. Don’t be in a hurry to leave us. We will make +merry together at the wedding.” + +“And when is the wedding to be?” asked Olénin, feeling his blood +suddenly rush to his face while his heart beat irregularly and +painfully. + +He heard a movement on the oven and the sound of seeds being cracked. + +“Well, you know, it ought to be next week. We are quite ready,” replied +the old woman, as simply and quietly as though Olénin did not exist. “I +have prepared and have procured everything for Maryánka. We will give +her away properly. Only there’s one thing not quite right. Our Lukáshka +has been running rather wild. He has been too much on the spree! He’s +up to tricks! The other day a Cossack came here from his company and +said he had been to Nogáy.” + +“He must mind he does not get caught,” said Olénin. + +“Yes, that’s what I tell him. ‘Mind, Lukáshka, don’t you get into +mischief. Well, of course, a young fellow naturally wants to cut a +dash. But there’s a time for everything. Well, you’ve captured or +stolen something and killed an _abrek!_ Well, you’re a fine fellow! But +now you should live quietly for a bit, or else there’ll be trouble.’” + +“Yes, I saw him a time or two in the division, he was always +merry-making. He has sold another horse,” said Olénin, and glanced +towards the oven. A pair of large, dark, and hostile eyes glittered as +they gazed severely at him. + +He became ashamed of what he had said. “What of it? He does no one any +harm,” suddenly remarked Maryánka. “He makes merry with his own money,” +and lowering her legs she jumped down from the oven and went out +banging the door. + +Olénin followed her with his eyes as long as she was in the hut, and +then looked at the door and waited, understanding nothing of what +Granny Ulítka was telling him. + +A few minutes later some visitors arrived: an old man, Granny Ulítka’s +brother, with Daddy Eróshka, and following them came Maryánka and +Ústenka. + +“Good evening,” squeaked Ústenka. “Still on holiday?” she added, +turning to Olénin. + +“Yes, still on holiday,” he replied, and felt, he did not know why, +ashamed and ill at ease. + +He wished to go away but could not. It also seemed to him impossible to +remain silent. The old man helped him by asking for a drink, and they +had a drink. Olénin drank with Eróshka, with the other Cossack, and +again with Eróshka, and the more he drank the heavier was his heart. +But the two old men grew merry. The girls climbed onto the oven, where +they sat whispering and looking at the men, who drank till it was late. +Olénin did not talk, but drank more than the others. The Cossacks were +shouting. The old woman would not let them have any more _chikhir_, and +at last turned them out. The girls laughed at Daddy Eróshka, and it was +past ten when they all went out into the porch. The old men invited +themselves to finish their merry-making at Olénin’s. Ústenka ran off +home and Eróshka led the old Cossack to Vanyúsha. The old woman went +out to tidy up the shed. Maryánka remained alone in the hut. Olénin +felt fresh and joyous, as if he had only just woke up. He noticed +everything, and having let the old men pass ahead he turned back to the +hut where Maryánka was preparing for bed. He went up to her and wished +to say something, but his voice broke. She moved away from him, sat +down cross-legged on her bed in the corner, and looked at him silently +with wild and frightened eyes. She was evidently afraid of him. Olénin +felt this. He felt sorry and ashamed of himself, and at the same time +proud and pleased that he aroused even that feeling in her. + +“Maryánka!” he said. “Will you never take pity on me? I can’t tell you +how I love you.” + +She moved still farther away. + +“Just hear how the wine is speaking! ... You’ll get nothing from me!” + +“No, it is not the wine. Don’t marry Lukáshka. I will marry you.” +(“What am I saying,” he thought as he uttered these words. “Shall I be +able to say the same tomorrow?” “Yes, I shall, I am sure I shall, and I +will repeat them now,” replied an inner voice.) + +“Will you marry me?” + +She looked at him seriously and her fear seemed to have passed. + +“Maryánka, I shall go out of my mind! I am not myself. I will do +whatever you command,” and madly tender words came from his lips of +their own accord. + +“Now then, what are you drivelling about?” she interrupted, suddenly +seizing the arm he was stretching towards her. She did not push his arm +away but pressed it firmly with her strong hard fingers. “Do gentlemen +marry Cossack girls? Go away!” + +“But will you? Everything...” + +“And what shall we do with Lukáshka?” said she, laughing. + +He snatched away the arm she was holding and firmly embraced her young +body, but she sprang away like a fawn and ran barefoot into the porch: +Olénin came to his senses and was terrified at himself. He again felt +himself inexpressibly vile compared to her, yet not repenting for an +instant of what he had said he went home, and without even glancing at +the old men who were drinking in his room he lay down and fell asleep +more soundly than he had done for a long time. + + + + + Chapter XXXV + + +The next day was a holiday. In the evening all the villagers, their +holiday clothes shining in the sunset, were out in the street. That +season more wine than usual had been produced, and the people were now +free from their labours. In a month the Cossacks were to start on a +campaign and in many families preparations were being made for +weddings. + +Most of the people were standing in the square in front of the Cossack +Government Office and near the two shops, in one of which cakes and +pumpkin seeds were sold, in the other kerchiefs and cotton prints. On +the earth-embankment of the office-building sat or stood the old men in +sober grey, or black coats without gold trimmings or any kind of +ornament. They conversed among themselves quietly in measured tones, +about the harvest, about the young folk, about village affairs, and +about old times, looking with dignified equanimity at the younger +generation. Passing by them, the women and girls stopped and bent their +heads. The young Cossacks respectfully slackened their pace and raised +their caps, holding them for a while over their heads. The old men then +stopped speaking. Some of them watched the passers-by severely, others +kindly, and in their turn slowly took off their caps and put them on +again. + +The Cossack girls had not yet started dancing their _khorovóds_, but +having gathered in groups, in their bright coloured _beshmets_ with +white kerchiefs on their heads pulled down to their eyes, they sat +either on the ground or on the earth-banks about the huts sheltered +from the oblique rays of the sun, and laughed and chattered in their +ringing voices. Little boys and girls playing in the square sent their +balls high up into the clear sky, and ran about squealing and shouting. +The half-grown girls had started dancing their _khorovóds_, and were +timidly singing in their thin shrill voices. Clerks, lads not in the +service, or home for the holiday, bright-faced and wearing smart white +or new red Circassian gold-trimmed coats, went about arm in arm in twos +or threes from one group of women or girls to another, and stopped to +joke and chat with the Cossack girls. The Armenian shopkeeper, in a +gold-trimmed coat of fine blue cloth, stood at the open door through +which piles of folded bright-coloured kerchiefs were visible and, +conscious of his own importance and with the pride of an Oriental +tradesman, waited for customers. Two red-bearded, barefooted Chéchens, +who had come from beyond the Térek to see the fête, sat on their heels +outside the house of a friend, negligently smoking their little pipes +and occasionally spitting, watching the villagers and exchanging +remarks with one another in their rapid guttural speech. Occasionally a +workaday-looking soldier in an old overcoat passed across the square +among the bright-clad girls. Here and there the songs of tipsy Cossacks +who were merry-making could already be heard. All the huts were closed; +the porches had been scrubbed clean the day before. Even the old women +were out in the street, which was everywhere sprinkled with pumpkin and +melon seed-shells. The air was warm and still, the sky deep and clear. +Beyond the roofs the dead-white mountain range, which seemed very near, +was turning rosy in the glow of the evening sun. Now and then from the +other side of the river came the distant roar of a cannon, but above +the village, mingling with one another, floated all sorts of merry +holiday sounds. + +Olénin had been pacing the yard all that morning hoping to see +Maryánka. But she, having put on holiday clothes, went to Mass at the +chapel and afterwards sat with the other girls on an earth-embankment +cracking seeds; sometimes again, together with her companions, she ran +home, and each time gave the lodger a bright and kindly look. Olénin +felt afraid to address her playfully or in the presence of others. He +wished to finish telling her what he had begun to say the night before, +and to get her to give him a definite answer. He waited for another +moment like that of yesterday evening, but the moment did not come, and +he felt that he could not remain any longer in this uncertainty. She +went out into the street again, and after waiting awhile he too went +out and without knowing where he was going he followed her. He passed +by the corner where she was sitting in her shining blue satin +_beshmet_, and with an aching heart he heard behind him the girls +laughing. + +Belétski’s hut looked out onto the square. As Olénin was passing it he +heard Belétski’s voice calling to him, “Come in,” and in he went. + +After a short talk they both sat down by the window and were soon +joined by Eróshka, who entered dressed in a new _beshmet_ and sat down +on the floor beside them. + +“There, that’s the aristocratic party,” said Belétski, pointing with +his cigarette to a brightly coloured group at the corner. “Mine is +there too. Do you see her? in red. That’s a new _beshmet_. Why don’t +you start the _khorovód?_” he shouted, leaning out of the window. “Wait +a bit, and then when it grows dark let us go too. Then we will invite +them to Ústenka’s. We must arrange a ball for them!” + +“And I will come to Ústenka’s,” said Olénin in a decided tone. “Will +Maryánka be there?” + +“Yes, she’ll be there. Do come!” said Belétski, without the least +surprise. “But isn’t it a pretty picture?” he added, pointing to the +motley crowds. + +“Yes, very!” Olénin assented, trying to appear indifferent. + +“Holidays of this kind,” he added, “always make me wonder why all these +people should suddenly be contented and jolly. Today for instance, just +because it happens to be the fifteenth of the month, everything is +festive. Eyes and faces and voices and movements and garments, and the +air and the sun, are all in a holiday mood. And we no longer have any +holidays!” + +“Yes,” said Belétski, who did not like such reflections. + +“And why are you not drinking, old fellow?” he said, turning to +Eróshka. + +Eróshka winked at Olénin, pointing to Belétski. “Eh, he’s a proud one +that _kunak_ of yours,” he said. + +Belétski raised his glass. + +“_Allah birdy!_” he said, emptying it. (_Allah birdy_, “God has +given!”—the usual greeting of Caucasians when drinking together.) + +“_Sau bul_” (“Your health”), answered Eróshka smiling, and emptied his +glass. + +“Speaking of holidays!” he said, turning to Olénin as he rose and +looked out of the window, “What sort of holiday is that! You should +have seen them make merry in the old days! The women used to come out +in their gold-trimmed _sarafáns_. Two rows of gold coins hanging round +their necks and gold-cloth diadems on their heads, and when they passed +they made a noise, ‘flu, flu,’ with their dresses. Every woman looked +like a princess. Sometimes they’d come out, a whole herd of them, and +begin singing songs so that the air seemed to rumble, and they went on +making merry all night. And the Cossacks would roll out a barrel into +the yards and sit down and drink till break of day, or they would go +hand-in-hand sweeping the village. Whoever they met they seized and +took along with them, and went from house to house. Sometimes they used +to make merry for three days on end. Father used to come home—I still +remember it—quite red and swollen, without a cap, having lost +everything: he’d come and lie down. Mother knew what to do: she would +bring him some fresh caviar and a little _chikhir_ to sober him up, and +would herself run about in the village looking for his cap. Then he’d +sleep for two days! That’s the sort of fellows they were then! But now +what are they?” + +“Well, and the girls in the _sarafáns_, did they make merry all by +themselves?” asked Belétski. + +“Yes, they did! Sometimes Cossacks would come on foot or on horse and +say, ‘Let’s break up the _khorovóds_,’ and they’d go, but the girls +would take up cudgels. Carnival week, some young fellow would come +galloping up, and they’d cudgel his horse and cudgel him too. But he’d +break through, seize the one he loved, and carry her off. And his +sweetheart would love him to his heart’s content! Yes, the girls in +those days, they were regular queens!” + + + + + Chapter XXXVI + + +Just then two men rode out of the side street into the square. One of +them was Nazárka. The other, Lukáshka, sat slightly sideways on his +well-fed bay Kabardá horse which stepped lightly over the hard road +jerking its beautiful head with its fine glossy mane. The well-adjusted +gun in its cover, the pistol at his back, and the cloak rolled up +behind his saddle showed that Lukáshka had not come from a peaceful +place or from one near by. The smart way in which he sat a little +sideways on his horse, the careless motion with which he touched the +horse under its belly with his whip, and especially his half-closed +black eyes, glistening as he looked proudly around him, all expressed +the conscious strength and self-confidence of youth. “Ever seen as fine +a lad?” his eyes, looking from side to side, seemed to say. The elegant +horse with its silver ornaments and trappings, the weapons, and the +handsome Cossack himself attracted the attention of everyone in the +square. Nazárka, lean and short, was much less well dressed. As he rode +past the old men, Lukáshka paused and raised his curly white sheepskin +cap above his closely cropped black head. + +“Well, have you carried off many Nogáy horses?” asked a lean old man +with a frowning, lowering look. + +“Have you counted them, Grandad, that you ask?” replied Lukáshka, +turning away. + +“That’s all very well, but you need not take my lad along with you,” +the old man muttered with a still darker frown. + +“Just see the old devil, he knows everything,” muttered Lukáshka to +himself, and a worried expression came over his face; but then, +noticing a corner where a number of Cossack girls were standing, he +turned his horse towards them. + +“Good evening, girls!” he shouted in his powerful, resonant voice, +suddenly checking his horse. “You’ve grown old without me, you +witches!” and he laughed. + +“Good evening, Lukáshka! Good evening, laddie!” the merry voices +answered. “Have you brought much money? Buy some sweets for the +girls!... Have you come for long? True enough, it’s long since we saw +you....” + +“Nazárka and I have just flown across to make a night of it,” replied +Lukáshka, raising his whip and riding straight at the girls. + +“Why, Maryánka has quite forgotten you,” said Ústenka, nudging Maryánka +with her elbow and breaking into a shrill laugh. + +Maryánka moved away from the horse and throwing back her head calmly +looked at the Cossack with her large sparkling eyes. + +“True enough, you have not been home for a long time! Why are you +trampling us under your horse?” she remarked dryly, and turned away. + +Lukáshka had appeared particularly merry. His face shone with audacity +and joy. Obviously staggered by Maryánka’s cold reply he suddenly +knitted his brow. + +“Step up on my stirrup and I’ll carry you away to the mountains. +Mammy!” he suddenly exclaimed, and as if to disperse his dark thoughts +he caracoled among the girls. Stooping down towards Maryánka, he said, +“I’ll kiss, oh, how I’ll kiss you! ...” + +Maryánka’s eyes met his and she suddenly blushed and stepped back. + +“Oh, bother you! you’ll crush my feet,” she said, and bending her head +looked at her well-shaped feet in their tightly fitting light blue +stockings with clocks and her new red slippers trimmed with narrow +silver braid. + +Lukáshka turned towards Ústenka, and Maryánka sat down next to a woman +with a baby in her arms. The baby stretched his plump little hands +towards the girl and seized a necklace string that hung down onto her +blue _beshmet_. Maryánka bent towards the child and glanced at Lukáshka +from the corner of her eyes. Lukáshka just then was getting out from +under his coat, from the pocket of his black _beshmet_, a bundle of +sweetmeats and seeds. + +“There, I give them to all of you,” he said, handing the bundle to +Ústenka and smiling at Maryánka. + +A confused expression again appeared on the girl’s face. It was as +though a mist gathered over her beautiful eyes. She drew her kerchief +down below her lips, and leaning her head over the fair-skinned face of +the baby that still held her by her coin necklace she suddenly began to +kiss it greedily. The baby pressed his little hands against the girl’s +high breasts, and opening his toothless mouth screamed loudly. + +“You’re smothering the boy!” said the little one’s mother, taking him +away; and she unfastened her _beshmet_ to give him the breast. “You’d +better have a chat with the young fellow.” + +“I’ll only go and put up my horse and then Nazárka and I will come +back; we’ll make merry all night,” said Lukáshka, touching his horse +with his whip and riding away from the girls. + +Turning into a side street, he and Nazárka rode up to two huts that +stood side by side. + +“Here we are all right, old fellow! Be quick and come soon!” called +Lukáshka to his comrade, dismounting in front of one of the huts; then +he carefully led his horse in at the gate of the wattle fence of his +own home. + +“How d’you do, Stëpka?” he said to his dumb sister, who, smartly +dressed like the others, came in from the street to take his horse; and +he made signs to her to take the horse to the hay, but not to unsaddle +it. + +The dumb girl made her usual humming noise, smacked her lips as she +pointed to the horse and kissed it on the nose, as much as to say that +she loved it and that it was a fine horse. + +“How d’you do, Mother? How is it that you have not gone out yet?” +shouted Lukáshka, holding his gun in place as he mounted the steps of +the porch. + +His old mother opened the door. + +“Dear me! I never expected, never thought, you’d come,” said the old +woman. “Why, Kírka said you wouldn’t be here.” + +“Go and bring some _chikhir_, Mother. Nazárka is coming here and we +will celebrate the feast day.” + +“Directly, Lukáshka, directly!” answered the old woman. “Our women are +making merry. I expect our dumb one has gone too.” + +She took her keys and hurriedly went to the outhouse. Nazárka, after +putting up his horse and taking the gun off his shoulder, returned to +Lukáshka’s house and went in. + + + + + Chapter XXXVII + + +“Your health!” said Lukáshka, taking from his mother’s hands a cup +filled to the brim with _chikhir_ and carefully raising it to his bowed +head. + +“A bad business!” said Nazárka. “You heard how Daddy Burlák said, ‘Have +you stolen many horses?’ He seems to know!” + +“A regular wizard!” Lukáshka replied shortly. “But what of it!” he +added, tossing his head. “They are across the river by now. Go and find +them!” + +“Still it’s a bad lookout.” + +“What’s a bad lookout? Go and take some _chikhir_ to him tomorrow and +nothing will come of it. Now let’s make merry. Drink!” shouted +Lukáshka, just in the tone in which old Eróshka uttered the word. +“We’ll go out into the street and make merry with the girls. You go and +get some honey; or no, I’ll send our dumb wench. We’ll make merry till +morning.” + +Nazárka smiled. + +“Are we stopping here long?” he asked. + +“Till we’ve had a bit of fun. Run and get some vodka. Here’s the +money.” + +Nazárka ran off obediently to get the vodka from Yámka’s. + +Daddy Eróshka and Ergushóv, like birds of prey, scenting where the +merry-making was going on, tumbled into the hut one after the other, +both tipsy. + +“Bring us another half-pail,” shouted Lukáshka to his mother, by way of +reply to their greeting. + +“Now then, tell us where did you steal them, you devil?” shouted +Eróshka. “Fine fellow, I’m fond of you!” + +“Fond indeed...” answered Lukáshka laughing, “carrying sweets from +cadets to lasses! Eh, you old...” + +“That’s not true, not true! ... Oh, Mark,” and the old man burst out +laughing. “And how that devil begged me. ‘Go,’ he said, ‘and arrange +it.’ He offered me a gun! But no. I’d have managed it, but I feel for +you. Now tell us where have you been?” And the old man began speaking +in Tartar. + +Lukáshka answered him promptly. + +Ergushóv, who did not know much Tartar, only occasionally put in a word +in Russian: “What I say is he’s driven away the horses. I know it for a +fact,” he chimed in. + +“Giréy and I went together.” (His speaking of Giréy Khan as “Giréy” +was, to the Cossack mind, evidence of his boldness.) “Just beyond the +river he kept bragging that he knew the whole of the steppe and would +lead the way straight, but we rode on and the night was dark, and my +Giréy lost his way and began wandering in a circle without getting +anywhere: couldn’t find the village, and there we were. We must have +gone too much to the right. I believe we wandered about well-nigh till +midnight. Then, thank goodness, we heard dogs howling.” + +“Fools!” said Daddy Eróshka. “There now, we too used to lose our way in +the steppe. (Who the devil can follow it?) But I used to ride up a +hillock and start howling like the wolves, like this!” He placed his +hands before his mouth, and howled like a pack of wolves, all on one +note. “The dogs would answer at once ... Well, go on—so you found +them?” + +“We soon led them away! Nazárka was nearly caught by some Nogáy women, +he was!” + +“Caught indeed,” Nazárka, who had just come back, said in an injured +tone. + +“We rode off again, and again Giréy lost his way and almost landed us +among the sand-drifts. We thought we were just getting to the Térek but +we were riding away from it all the time!” + +“You should have steered by the stars,” said Daddy Eróshka. + +“That’s what I say,” interjected Ergushóv. + +“Yes, steer when all is black; I tried and tried all about... and at +last I put the bridle on one of the mares and let my own horse go +free—thinking he’ll lead us out, and what do you think! he just gave a +snort or two with his nose to the ground, galloped ahead, and led us +straight to our village. Thank goodness! It was getting quite light. We +barely had time to hide them in the forest. Nagím came across the river +and took them away.” + +Ergushóv shook his head. “It’s just what I said. Smart. Did you get +much for them?” + +“It’s all here,” said Lukáshka, slapping his pocket. + +Just then his mother came into the room, and Lukáshka did not finish +what he was saying. + +“Drink!” he shouted. + +“We too, Gírich and I, rode out late one night...” began Eróshka. + +“Oh bother, we’ll never hear the end of you!” said Lukáshka. “I am +going.” And having emptied his cup and tightened the strap of his belt +he went out. + + + + + Chapter XXXVIII + + +It was already dark when Lukáshka went out into the street. The autumn +night was fresh and calm. The full golden moon floated up behind the +tall dark poplars that grew on one side of the square. From the +chimneys of the outhouses smoke rose and spread above the village, +mingling with the mist. Here and there lights shone through the +windows, and the air was laden with the smell of _kisyak_, grape-pulp, +and mist. The sounds of voices, laughter, songs, and the cracking of +seeds mingled just as they had done in the daytime, but were now more +distinct. Clusters of white kerchiefs and caps gleamed through the +darkness near the houses and by the fences. + +In the square, before the shop door which was lit up and open, the +black and white figures of Cossack men and maids showed through the +darkness, and one heard from afar their loud songs and laughter and +talk. The girls, hand in hand, went round and round in a circle +stepping lightly in the dusty square. A skinny girl, the plainest of +them all, set the tune: + +“From beyond the wood, from the forest dark, +From the garden green and the shady park, +There came out one day two young lads so gay. +Young bachelors, hey! brave and smart were they! +And they walked and walked, then stood still, each man, +And they talked and soon to dispute began! +Then a maid came out; as she came along, +Said, ‘To one of you I shall soon belong!’ +’Twas the fair-faced lad got the maiden fair, +Yes, the fair-faced lad with the golden hair! +Her right hand so white in his own took he, +And he led her round for his mates to see! +And said, ‘Have you ever in all your life, +Met a lass as fair as my sweet little wife?’” + + +The old women stood round listening to the songs. The little boys and +girls ran about chasing one another in the dark. The men stood by, +catching at the girls as the latter moved round, and sometimes breaking +the ring and entering it. On the dark side of the doorway stood +Belétski and Olénin, in their Circassian coats and sheepskin caps, and +talked together in a style of speech unlike that of the Cossacks, in +low but distinct tones, conscious that they were attracting attention. + +Next to one another in the _khorovód_ circle moved plump little Ústenka +in her red _beshmet_ and the stately Maryánka in her new smock and +_beshmet_. Olénin and Belétski were discussing how to snatch Ústenka +and Maryánka out of the ring. Belétski thought that Olénin wished only +to amuse himself, but Olénin was expecting his fate to be decided. He +wanted at any cost to see Maryánka alone that very day and to tell her +everything, and ask her whether she could and would be his wife. +Although that question had long been answered in the negative in his +own mind, he hoped he would be able to tell her all he felt, and that +she would understand him. + +“Why did you not tell me sooner?” said Belétski. “I would have got +Ústenka to arrange it for you. You are such a queer fellow! ...” + +“What’s to be done! ... Some day, very soon, I’ll tell you all about +it. Only now, for Heaven’s sake, arrange so that she should come to +Ústenka’s.” + +“All right, that’s easily done! Well, Maryánka, will you belong to the +‘fair-faced lad’, and not to Lukáshka?” said Belétski, speaking to +Maryánka first for propriety’s sake, but having received no reply he +went up to Ústenka and begged her to bring Maryánka home with her. He +had hardly time to finish what he was saying before the leader began +another song and the girls started pulling each other round in the ring +by the hand. + +They sang: + +Past the garden, by the garden, +A young man came strolling down, +Up the street and through the town. +And the first time as he passed +He did wave his strong right hand. +As the second time he passed +Waved his hat with silken band. +But the third time as he went +He stood still: before her bent. + +How is it that thou, my dear, +My reproaches dost not fear? +In the park don’t come to walk +That we there might have a talk? +Come now, answer me, my dear, +Dost thou hold me in contempt? +Later on, thou knowest, dear, +Thou’lt get sober and repent. +Soon to woo thee I will come, +And when we shall married be +Thou wilt weep because of me! + +Though I knew what to reply, +Yet I dared not him deny, +No, I dared not him deny! +So into the park went I, +In the park my lad to meet, +There my dear one I did greet. + +Maiden dear, I bow to thee! +Take this handkerchief from me. +In thy white hand take it, see! +Say I am beloved by thee. +I don’t know at all, I fear, +What I am to give thee, dear! +To my dear I think I will +Of a shawl a present make— +And five kisses for it take. + + +Lukáshka and Nazárka broke into the ring and started walking about +among the girls. Lukáshka joined in the singing, taking seconds in his +clear voice as he walked in the middle of the ring swinging his arms. +“Well, come in, one of you!” he said. The other girls pushed Maryánka, +but she would not enter the ring. The sound of shrill laughter, slaps, +kisses, and whispers mingled with the singing. + +As he went past Olénin, Lukáshka gave a friendly nod. + +“Dmítri Andréich! Have you too come to have a look?” he said. + +“Yes,” answered Olénin dryly. + +Belétski stooped and whispered something into Ústenka’s ear. She had +not time to reply till she came round again, when she said: + +“All right, we’ll come.” + +“And Maryánka too?” + +Olénin stooped towards Maryánka. “You’ll come? Please do, if only for a +minute. I must speak to you.” + +“If the other girls come, I will.” + +“Will you answer my question?” said he, bending towards her. “You are +in good spirits today.” + +She had already moved past him. He went after her. + +“Will you answer?” + +“Answer what?” + +“The question I asked you the other day,” said Olénin, stooping to her +ear. “Will you marry me?” + +Maryánka thought for a moment. + +“I’ll tell you,” said she, “I’ll tell you tonight.” + +And through the darkness her eyes gleamed brightly and kindly at the +young man. + +He still followed her. He enjoyed stooping closer to her. But Lukáshka, +without ceasing to sing, suddenly seized her firmly by the hand and +pulled her from her place in the ring of girls into the middle. Olénin +had only time to say, “Come to Ústenka’s,” and stepped back to his +companion. + +The song came to an end. Lukáshka wiped his lips, Maryánka did the +same, and they kissed. “No, no, kisses five!” said Lukáshka. Chatter, +laughter, and running about, succeeded to the rhythmic movements and +sound. Lukáshka, who seemed to have drunk a great deal, began to +distribute sweetmeats to the girls. + +“I offer them to everyone!” he said with proud, comically pathetic +self-admiration. “But anyone who goes after soldiers goes out of the +ring!” he suddenly added, with an angry glance at Olénin. + +The girls grabbed his sweetmeats from him, and, laughing, struggled for +them among themselves. Belétski and Olénin stepped aside. + +Lukáshka, as if ashamed of his generosity, took off his cap and wiping +his forehead with his sleeve came up to Maryánka and Ústenka. + +“Answer me, my dear, dost thou hold me in contempt?” he said in the +words of the song they had just been singing, and turning to Maryánka +he angrily repeated the words: “Dost thou hold me in contempt? When we +shall married be thou wilt weep because of me!” he added, embracing +Ústenka and Maryánka both together. + +Ústenka tore herself away, and swinging her arm gave him such a blow on +the back that she hurt her hand. + +“Well, are you going to have another turn?” he asked. + +“The other girls may if they like,” answered Ústenka, “but I am going +home and Maryánka was coming to our house too.” + +With his arm still round her, Lukáshka led Maryánka away from the crowd +to the darker corner of a house. + +“Don’t go, Maryánka,” he said, “let’s have some fun for the last time. +Go home and I will come to you!” + +“What am I to do at home? Holidays are meant for merrymaking. I am +going to Ústenka’s,” replied Maryánka. + +“I’ll marry you all the same, you know!” + +“All right,” said Maryánka, “we shall see when the time comes.” + +“So you are going,” said Lukáshka sternly, and, pressing her close, he +kissed her on the cheek. + +“There, leave off! Don’t bother,” and Maryánka, wrenching herself from +his arms, moved away. + +“Ah my girl, it will turn out badly,” said Lukáshka reproachfully and +stood still, shaking his head. “Thou wilt weep because of me...” and +turning away from her he shouted to the other girls: + +“Now then! Play away!” + +What he had said seemed to have frightened and vexed Maryánka. She +stopped, “What will turn out badly?” + +“Why, that!” + +“That what?” + +“Why, that you keep company with a soldier-lodger and no longer care +for me!” + +“I’ll care just as long as I choose. You’re not my father, nor my +mother. What do you want? I’ll care for whom I like!” + +“Well, all right...” said Lukáshka, “but remember!” He moved towards +the shop. “Girls!” he shouted, “why have you stopped? Go on dancing. +Nazárka, fetch some more _chikhir_.” + +“Well, will they come?” asked Olénin, addressing Belétski. + +“They’ll come directly,” replied Belétski. “Come along, we must prepare +the ball.” + + + + + Chapter XXXIX + + +It was already late in the night when Olénin came out of Belétski’s hut +following Maryánka and Ústenka. He saw in the dark street before him +the gleam of the girl’s white kerchief. The golden moon was descending +towards the steppe. A silvery mist hung over the village. All was +still; there were no lights anywhere and one heard only the receding +footsteps of the young women. Olénin’s heart beat fast. The fresh moist +atmosphere cooled his burning face. He glanced at the sky and turned to +look at the hut he had just come out of: the candle was already out. +Then he again peered through the darkness at the girls’ retreating +shadows. The white kerchief disappeared in the mist. He was afraid to +remain alone, he was so happy. He jumped down from the porch and ran +after the girls. + +“Bother you, someone may see...” said Ústenka. + +“Never mind!” + +Olénin ran up to Maryánka and embraced her. + +Maryánka did not resist. + +“Haven’t you kissed enough yet?” said Ústenka. “Marry and then kiss, +but now you’d better wait.” + +“Good-night, Maryánka. Tomorrow I will come to see your father and tell +him. Don’t you say anything.” + +“Why should I!” answered Maryánka. + +Both the girls started running. Olénin went on by himself thinking over +all that had happened. He had spent the whole evening alone with her in +a corner by the oven. Ústenka had not left the hut for a single moment, +but had romped about with the other girls and with Belétski all the +time. Olénin had talked in whispers to Maryánka. + +“Will you marry me?” he had asked. + +“You’d deceive me and not have me,” she replied cheerfully and calmly. + +“But do you love me? Tell me for God’s sake!” + +“Why shouldn’t I love you? You don’t squint,” answered Maryánka, +laughing and with her hard hands squeezing his.... + +“What whi-ite, whi-i-ite, soft hands you’ve got—so like clotted cream,” +she said. + +“I am in earnest. Tell me, will you marry me?” + +“Why not, if father gives me to you?” + +“Well then remember, I shall go mad if you deceive me. Tomorrow I will +tell your mother and father. I shall come and propose.” + +Maryánka suddenly burst out laughing. + +“What’s the matter?” + +“It seems so funny!” + +“It’s true! I will buy a vineyard and a house and will enroll myself as +a Cossack.” + +“Mind you don’t go after other women then. I am severe about that.” + +Olénin joyfully repeated all these words to himself. The memory of them +now gave him pain and now such joy that it took away his breath. The +pain was because she had remained as calm as usual while talking to +him. She did not seem at all agitated by these new conditions. It was +as if she did not trust him and did not think of the future. It seemed +to him that she only loved him for the present moment, and that in her +mind there was no future with him. He was happy because her words +sounded to him true, and she had consented to be his. “Yes,” thought he +to himself, “we shall only understand one another when she is quite +mine. For such love there are no words. It needs life—the whole of +life. Tomorrow everything will be cleared up. I cannot live like this +any longer; tomorrow I will tell everything to her father, to Belétski, +and to the whole village.” + +Lukáshka, after two sleepless nights, had drunk so much at the fête +that for the first time in his life his feet would not carry him, and +he slept in Yámka’s house. + + + + + Chapter XL + + +The next day Olénin awoke earlier than usual, and immediately +remembered what lay before him, and he joyfully recalled her kisses, +the pressure of her hard hands, and her words, “What white hands you +have!” He jumped up and wished to go at once to his hosts’ hut to ask +for their consent to his marriage with Maryánka. The sun had not yet +risen, but it seemed that there was an unusual bustle in the street and +side-street: people were moving about on foot and on horseback, and +talking. He threw on his Circassian coat and hastened out into the +porch. His hosts were not yet up. Five Cossacks were riding past and +talking loudly together. In front rode Lukáshka on his broad-backed +Kabardá horse. + +The Cossacks were all speaking and shouting so that it was impossible +to make out exactly what they were saying. + +“Ride to the Upper Post,” shouted one. + +“Saddle and catch us up, be quick,” said another. + +“It’s nearer through the other gate!” + +“What are you talking about?” cried Lukáshka. “We must go through the +middle gates, of course.” + +“So we must, it’s nearer that way,” said one of the Cossacks who was +covered with dust and rode a perspiring horse. Lukáshka’s face was red +and swollen after the drinking of the previous night and his cap was +pushed to the back of his head. He was calling out with authority as +though he were an officer. + +“What is the matter? Where are you going?” asked Olénin, with +difficulty attracting the Cossacks’ attention. + +“We are off to catch _abreks_. They’re hiding among the sand-drifts. We +are just off, but there are not enough of us yet.” + +And the Cossacks continued to shout, more and more of them joining as +they rode down the street. It occurred to Olénin that it would not look +well for him to stay behind; besides he thought he could soon come +back. He dressed, loaded his gun with bullets, jumped onto his horse +which Vanyúsha had saddled more or less well, and overtook the Cossacks +at the village gates. The Cossacks had dismounted, and filling a wooden +bowl with _chikhir_ from a little cask which they had brought with +them, they passed the bowl round to one another and drank to the +success of their expedition. Among them was a smartly dressed young +cornet, who happened to be in the village and who took command of the +group of nine Cossacks who had joined for the expedition. All these +Cossacks were privates, and although the cornet assumed the airs of a +commanding officer, they only obeyed Lukáshka. Of Olénin they took no +notice at all, and when they had all mounted and started, and Olénin +rode up to the cornet and began asking him what was taking place, the +cornet, who was usually quite friendly, treated him with marked +condescension. It was with great difficulty that Olénin managed to find +out from him what was happening. Scouts who had been sent out to search +for _abreks_ had come upon several hillsmen some six miles from the +village. These _abreks_ had taken shelter in pits and had fired at the +scouts, declaring they would not surrender. A corporal who had been +scouting with two Cossacks had remained to watch the _abreks_, and had +sent one Cossack back to get help. + +The sun was just rising. Three miles beyond the village the steppe +spread out and nothing was visible except the dry, monotonous, sandy, +dismal plain covered with the footmarks of cattle, and here and there +with tufts of withered grass, with low reeds in the flats, and rare, +little-trodden footpaths, and the camps of the nomad Nogáy tribe just +visible far away. The absence of shade and the austere aspect of the +place were striking. The sun always rises and sets red in the steppe. +When it is windy whole hills of sand are carried by the wind from place +to place. + +When it is calm, as it was that morning, the silence, uninterrupted by +any movement or sound, is peculiarly striking. That morning in the +steppe it was quiet and dull, though the sun had already risen. It all +seemed specially soft and desolate. The air was hushed, the footfalls +and the snorting of the horses were the only sounds to be heard, and +even they quickly died away. + +The men rode almost silently. A Cossack always carries his weapons so +that they neither jingle nor rattle. Jingling weapons are a terrible +disgrace to a Cossack. Two other Cossacks from the village caught the +party up and exchanged a few words. Lukáshka’s horse either stumbled or +caught its foot in some grass, and became restive—which is a sign of +bad luck among the Cossacks, and at such a time was of special +importance. The others exchanged glances and turned away, trying not to +notice what had happened. Lukaskha pulled at the reins, frowned +sternly, set his teeth, and flourished his whip above his head. His +good Kabardá horse, prancing from one foot to another not knowing with +which to start, seemed to wish to fly upwards on wings. But Lukáshka +hit its well-fed sides with his whip once, then again, and a third +time, and the horse, showing its teeth and spreading out its tail, +snorted and reared and stepped on its hind legs a few paces away from +the others. + +“Ah, a good steed that!” said the cornet. + +That he said _steed_ instead of _horse_ indicated special praise. + +“A lion of a horse,” assented one of the others, an old Cossack. + +The Cossacks rode forward silently, now at a footpace, then at a trot, +and these changes were the only incidents that interrupted for a moment +the stillness and solemnity of their movements. + +Riding through the steppe for about six miles, they passed nothing but +one Nogáy tent, placed on a cart and moving slowly along at a distance +of about a mile from them. A Nogáy family was moving from one part of +the steppe to another. Afterwards they met two tattered Nogáy women +with high cheekbones, who with baskets on their backs were gathering +dung left by the cattle that wandered over the steppe. The cornet, who +did not know their language well, tried to question them, but they did +not understand him and, obviously frightened, looked at one another. + +Lukáshka rode up to them both, stopped his horse, and promptly uttered +the usual greeting. The Nogáy women were evidently relieved, and began +speaking to him quite freely as to a brother. + +“_Ay-ay, kop abrek!_” they said plaintively, pointing in the direction +in which the Cossacks were going. Olénin understood that they were +saying, “Many _abreks_.” + +Never having seen an engagement of that kind, and having formed an idea +of them only from Daddy Eróshka’s tales, Olénin wished not to be left +behind by the Cossacks, but wanted to see it all. He admired the +Cossacks, and was on the watch, looking and listening and making his +own observations. Though he had brought his sword and a loaded gun with +him, when he noticed that the Cossacks avoided him he decided to take +no part in the action, as in his opinion his courage had already been +sufficiently proved when he was with his detachment, and also because +he was very happy. + +Suddenly a shot was heard in the distance. + +The cornet became excited, and began giving orders to the Cossacks as +to how they should divide and from which side they should approach. But +the Cossacks did not appear to pay any attention to these orders, +listening only to what Lukáshka said and looking to him alone. +Lukáshka’s face and figure were expressive of calm solemnity. He put +his horse to a trot with which the others were unable to keep pace, and +screwing up his eyes kept looking ahead. + +“There’s a man on horseback,” he said, reining in his horse and keeping +in line with the others. + +Olénin looked intently, but could not see anything. The Cossacks soon +distinguished two riders and quietly rode straight towards them. + +“Are those the _abreks?_” asked Olénin. + +The Cossacks did not answer his question, which appeared quite +meaningless to them. The _abreks_ would have been fools to venture +across the river on horseback. + +“That’s friend Ródka waving to us, I do believe,” said Lukáshka, +pointing to the two mounted men who were now clearly visible. “Look, +he’s coming to us.” + +A few minutes later it became plain that the two horsemen were the +Cossack scouts. The corporal rode up to Lukáshka. + + + + + Chapter XLI + + +“Are they far?” was all Lukáshka said. + +Just then they heard a sharp shot some thirty paces off. The corporal +smiled slightly. + +“Our Gúrka is having shots at them,” he said, nodding in the direction +of the shot. + +Having gone a few paces farther they saw Gúrka sitting behind a +sand-hillock and loading his gun. To while away the time he was +exchanging shots with the _abreks_, who were behind another sand-heap. +A bullet came whistling from their side. + +The cornet was pale and grew confused. Lukáshka dismounted from his +horse, threw the reins to one of the other Cossacks, and went up to +Gúrka. Olénin also dismounted and, bending down, followed Lukáshka. +They had hardly reached Gúrka when two bullets whistled above them. + +Lukáshka looked around laughing at Olénin and stooped a little. + +“Look out or they will kill you, Dmítri Andréich,” he said. “You’d +better go away—you have no business here.” But Olénin wanted absolutely +to see the _abreks_. + +From behind the mound he saw caps and muskets some two hundred paces +off. Suddenly a little cloud of smoke appeared from thence, and again a +bullet whistled past. The _abreks_ were hiding in a marsh at the foot +of the hill. Olénin was much impressed by the place in which they sat. +In reality it was very much like the rest of the steppe, but because +the _abreks_ sat there it seemed to detach itself from all the rest and +to have become distinguished. Indeed it appeared to Olénin that it was +the very spot for _abreks_ to occupy. Lukáshka went back to his horse +and Olénin followed him. + +“We must get a hay-cart,” said Lukáshka, “or they will be killing some +of us. There behind that mound is a Nogáy cart with a load of hay.” + +The cornet listened to him and the corporal agreed. The cart of hay was +fetched, and the Cossacks, hiding behind it, pushed it forward. Olénin +rode up a hillock from whence he could see everything. The hay-cart +moved on and the Cossacks crowded together behind it. The Cossacks +advanced, but the Chéchens, of whom there were nine, sat with their +knees in a row and did not fire. + +All was quiet. Suddenly from the Chéchens arose the sound of a mournful +song, something like Daddy Eróshka’s “Ay day, dalalay.” The Chéchens +knew that they could not escape, and to prevent themselves from being +tempted to take to flight they had strapped themselves together, knee +to knee, had got their guns ready, and were singing their death-song. + +The Cossacks with their hay-cart drew closer and closer, and Olénin +expected the firing to begin at any moment, but the silence was only +broken by the _abreks_’ mournful song. Suddenly the song ceased; there +was a sharp report, a bullet struck the front of the cart, and Chéchen +curses and yells broke the silence and shot followed on shot and one +bullet after another struck the cart. The Cossacks did not fire and +were now only five paces distant. + +Another moment passed and the Cossacks with a whoop rushed out on both +sides from behind the cart—Lukáshka in front of them. Olénin heard only +a few shots, then shouting and moans. He thought he saw smoke and +blood, and abandoning his horse and quite beside himself he ran towards +the Cossacks. Horror seemed to blind him. He could not make out +anything, but understood that all was over. Lukáshka, pale as death, +was holding a wounded Chéchen by the arms and shouting, “Don’t kill +him. I’ll take him alive!” The Chéchen was the red-haired man who had +fetched his brother’s body away after Lukáshka had killed him. Lukáshka +was twisting his arms. Suddenly the Chéchen wrenched himself free and +fired his pistol. Lukáshka fell, and blood began to flow from his +stomach. He jumped up, but fell again, swearing in Russian and in +Tartar. More and more blood appeared on his clothes and under him. Some +Cossacks approached him and began loosening his girdle. One of them, +Nazárka, before beginning to help, fumbled for some time, unable to put +his sword in its sheath: it would not go the right way. The blade of +the sword was blood-stained. + +The Chéchens with their red hair and clipped moustaches lay dead and +hacked about. Only the one we know of, who had fired at Lukáshka, +though wounded in many places was still alive. Like a wounded hawk all +covered with blood (blood was flowing from a wound under his right +eye), pale and gloomy, he looked about him with wide-open excited eyes +and clenched teeth as he crouched, dagger in hand, still prepared to +defend himself. The cornet went up to him as if intending to pass by, +and with a quick movement shot him in the ear. The Chéchen started up, +but it was too late, and he fell. + +The Cossacks, quite out of breath, dragged the bodies aside and took +the weapons from them. Each of the red-haired Chéchens had been a man, +and each one had his own individual expression. Lukáshka was carried to +the cart. He continued to swear in Russian and in Tartar. + +“No fear, I’ll strangle him with my hands. _Anna seni!_” he cried, +struggling. But he soon became quiet from weakness. + +Olénin rode home. In the evening he was told that Lukáshka was at +death’s door, but that a Tartar from beyond the river had undertaken to +cure him with herbs. + +The bodies were brought to the village office. The women and the little +boys hastened to look at them. + +It was growing dark when Olénin returned, and he could not collect +himself after what he had seen. But towards night memories of the +evening before came rushing to his mind. He looked out of the window, +Maryánka was passing to and fro from the house to the cowshed, putting +things straight. Her mother had gone to the vineyard and her father to +the office. Olénin could not wait till she had quite finished her work, +but went out to meet her. She was in the hut standing with her back +towards him. Olénin thought she felt shy. + +“Maryánka,” said he, “I say, Maryánka! May I come in?” + +She suddenly turned. There was a scarcely perceptible trace of tears in +her eyes and her face was beautiful in its sadness. She looked at him +in silent dignity. + +Olénin again said: + +“Maryánka, I have come—” + +“Leave me alone!” she said. Her face did not change but the tears ran +down her cheeks. + +“What are you crying for? What is it?” + +“What?” she repeated in a rough voice. “Cossacks have been killed, +that’s what for.” + +“Lukáshka?” said Olénin. + +“Go away! What do you want?” + +“Maryánka!” said Olénin, approaching her. + +“You will never get anything from me!” + +“Maryánka, don’t speak like that,” Olénin entreated. + +“Get away. I’m sick of you!” shouted the girl, stamping her foot, and +moved threateningly towards him. And her face expressed such +abhorrence, such contempt, and such anger that Olénin suddenly +understood that there was no hope for him, and that his first +impression of this woman’s inaccessibility had been perfectly correct. + +Olénin said nothing more, but ran out of the hut. + + + + + Chapter XLII + + +For two hours after returning home he lay on his bed motionless. Then +he went to his company commander and obtained leave to visit the staff. +Without taking leave of anyone, and sending Vanyúsha to settle his +accounts with his landlord, he prepared to leave for the fort where his +regiment was stationed. Daddy Eróshka was the only one to see him off. +They had a drink, and then a second, and then yet another. Again as on +the night of his departure from Moscow, a three-horsed conveyance stood +waiting at the door. But Olénin did not confer with himself as he had +done then, and did not say to himself that all he had thought and done +here was “not it”. He did not promise himself a new life. He loved +Maryánka more than ever, and knew that he could never be loved by her. + +“Well, good-bye, my lad!” said Daddy Eróshka. “When you go on an +expedition, be wise and listen to my words—the words of an old man. +When you are out on a raid or the like (you know I’m an old wolf and +have seen things), and when they begin firing, don’t get into a crowd +where there are many men. When you fellows get frightened you always +try to get close together with a lot of others. You think it is merrier +to be with others, but that’s where it is worst of all! They always aim +at a crowd. Now I used to keep farther away from the others and went +alone, and I’ve never been wounded. Yet what things haven’t I seen in +my day?” + +“But you’ve got a bullet in your back,” remarked Vanyúsha, who was +clearing up the room. + +“That was the Cossacks fooling about,” answered Eróshka. + +“Cossacks? How was that?” asked Olénin. + +“Oh, just so. We were drinking. Vánka Sítkin, one of the Cossacks, got +merry, and puff! he gave me one from his pistol just here.” + +“Yes, and did it hurt?” asked Olénin. “Vanyúsha, will you soon be +ready?” he added. + +“Ah, where’s the hurry! Let me tell you. When he banged into me, the +bullet did not break the bone but remained here. And I say: ‘You’ve +killed me, brother. Eh! What have you done to me? I won’t let you off! +You’ll have to stand me a pailful!’” + +“Well, but did it hurt?” Olénin asked again, scarcely listening to the +tale. + +“Let me finish. He stood a pailful, and we drank it, but the blood went +on flowing. The whole room was drenched and covered with blood. Grandad +Burlák, he says, ‘The lad will give up the ghost. Stand a bottle of the +sweet sort, or we shall have you taken up!’ They bought more drink, and +boozed and boozed—” + +“Yes, but did it hurt you much?” Olénin asked once more. + +“Hurt, indeed! Don’t interrupt: I don’t like it. Let me finish. We +boozed and boozed till morning, and I fell asleep on the top of the +oven, drunk. When I woke in the morning I could not unbend myself +anyhow—” + +“Was it very painful?” repeated Olénin, thinking that now he would at +last get an answer to his question. + +“Did I tell you it was painful? I did not say it was painful, but I +could not bend and could not walk.” + +“And then it healed up?” said Olénin, not even laughing, so heavy was +his heart. + +“It healed up, but the bullet is still there. Just feel it!” And +lifting his shirt he showed his powerful back, where just near the bone +a bullet could be felt and rolled about. + +“Feel how it rolls,” he said, evidently amusing himself with the bullet +as with a toy. “There now, it has rolled to the back.” + +“And Lukáshka, will he recover?” asked Olénin. + +“Heaven only knows! There’s no doctor. They’ve gone for one.” + +“Where will they get one? From Gróznoe?” asked Olénin. + +“No, my lad. Were I the Tsar I’d have hung all your Russian doctors +long ago. Cutting is all they know! There’s our Cossack Bakláshka, no +longer a real man now that they’ve cut off his leg! That shows they’re +fools. What’s Bakláshka good for now? No, my lad, in the mountains +there are real doctors. There was my chum, Vórchik, he was on an +expedition and was wounded just here in the chest. Well, your doctors +gave him up, but one of theirs came from the mountains and cured him! +They understand herbs, my lad!” + +“Come, stop talking rubbish,” said Olénin. “I’d better send a doctor +from head-quarters.” + +“Rubbish!” the old man said mockingly. “Fool, fool! Rubbish. You’ll +send a doctor!—If yours cured people, Cossacks and Chéchens would go to +you for treatment, but as it is your officers and colonels send to the +mountains for doctors. Yours are all humbugs, all humbugs.” + +Olénin did not answer. He agreed only too fully that all was humbug in +the world in which he had lived and to which he was now returning. + +“How is Lukáshka? You’ve been to see him?” he asked. + +“He just lies as if he were dead. He does not eat nor drink. Vodka is +the only thing his soul accepts. But as long as he drinks vodka it’s +well. I’d be sorry to lose the lad. A fine lad—a brave, like me. I too +lay dying like that once. The old women were already wailing. My head +was burning. They had already laid me out under the holy icons. So I +lay there, and above me on the oven little drummers, no bigger than +this, beat the tattoo. I shout at them and they drum all the harder.” +(The old man laughed.) “The women brought our church elder. They were +getting ready to bury me. They said, ‘He defiled himself with worldly +unbelievers; he made merry with women; he ruined people; he did not +fast, and he played the _balaláyka_. Confess,’ they said. So I began to +confess. ‘I’ve sinned!’ I said. Whatever the priest said, I always +answered ‘I’ve sinned.’ He began to ask me about the _balaláyka_. +‘Where is the accursed thing,’ he says. ‘Show it me and smash it.’ But +I say, ‘I’ve not got it.’ I’d hidden it myself in a net in the +outhouse. I knew they could not find it. So they left me. Yet after all +I recovered. When I went for my _balaláyka_—What was I saying?” he +continued. “Listen to me, and keep farther away from the other men or +you’ll get killed foolishly. I feel for you, truly: you are a drinker—I +love you! And fellows like you like riding up the mounds. There was one +who lived here who had come from Russia, he always would ride up the +mounds (he called the mounds so funnily, ‘hillocks’). Whenever he saw a +mound, off he’d gallop. Once he galloped off that way and rode to the +top quite pleased, but a Chéchen fired at him and killed him! Ah, how +well they shoot from their gun-rests, those Chéchens! Some of them +shoot even better than I do. I don’t like it when a fellow gets killed +so foolishly! Sometimes I used to look at your soldiers and wonder at +them. There’s foolishness for you! They go, the poor fellows, all in a +clump, and even sew red collars to their coats! How can they help being +hit! One gets killed, they drag him away and another takes his place! +What foolishness!” the old man repeated, shaking his head. “Why not +scatter, and go one by one? So you just go like that and they won’t +notice you. That’s what you must do.” + +“Well, thank you! Good-bye, Daddy. God willing we may meet again,” said +Olénin, getting up and moving towards the passage. + +The old man, who was sitting on the floor, did not rise. + +“Is that the way one says ‘Good-bye’? Fool, fool!” he began. “Oh dear, +what has come to people? We’ve kept company, kept company for well-nigh +a year, and now ‘Good-bye!’ and off he goes! Why, I love you, and how I +pity you! You are so forlorn, always alone, always alone. You’re +somehow so unsociable. At times I can’t sleep for thinking about you. I +am so sorry for you. As the song has it: + +It is very hard, dear brother, +In a foreign land to live. + + +So it is with you.” + +“Well, good-bye,” said Olénin again. + +The old man rose and held out his hand. Olénin pressed it and turned to +go. + +“Give us your mug, your mug!” + +And the old man took Olénin by the head with both hands and kissed him +three times with wet moustaches and lips, and began to cry. + +“I love you, good-bye!” + +Olénin got into the cart. + +“Well, is that how you’re going? You might give me something for a +remembrance. Give me a gun! What do you want two for?” said the old +man, sobbing quite sincerely. + +Olénin got out a musket and gave it to him. + +“What a lot you’ve given the old fellow,” murmured Vanyúsha, “he’ll +never have enough! A regular old beggar. They are all such irregular +people,” he remarked, as he wrapped himself in his overcoat and took +his seat on the box. + +“Hold your tongue, swine!” exclaimed the old man, laughing. “What a +stingy fellow!” + +Maryánka came out of the cowshed, glanced indifferently at the cart, +bowed and went towards the hut. + +“_La fille!_” said Vanyúsha, with a wink, and burst out into a silly +laugh. + +“Drive on!” shouted Olénin, angrily. + +“Good-bye, my lad! Good-bye. I won’t forget you!” shouted Eróshka. + +Olénin turned round. Daddy Eróshka was talking to Maryánka, evidently +about his own affairs, and neither the old man nor the girl looked at +Olénin. + + + + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE COSSACKS *** + +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. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part +of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project +Gutenberg™ electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG™ +concept and trademark. Project Gutenberg is a registered trademark, +and may not be used if you charge for an eBook, except by following +the terms of the trademark license, including paying royalties for use +of the Project Gutenberg trademark. 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You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms +of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online +at <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. If you +are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the +country where you are located before using this eBook. +</div> +<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Title: The Cossacks<br/> + A Tale of 1852</div> +<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Author: Leo Tolstoy</div> +<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Translators: Louise and Aylmer Maude</div> +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Release Date: March 13, 2002 [eBook #4761]<br /> +[Most recently updated: May 7, 2023]</div> +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Language: English</div> +<div style='display:block; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Produced by: Steve Harris, Charles Franks and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team</div> +<div style='margin-top:2em; margin-bottom:4em'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE COSSACKS ***</div> + +<h1>THE COSSACKS</h1> + +<h3>A Tale of 1852</h3> + +<h2 class="no-break">By Leo Tolstoy</h2> + +<h4>Translated by Louise and Aylmer Maude</h4> + +<hr /> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2>CONTENTS</h2> + +<table summary="" style=""> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap01">Chapter I</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap02">Chapter II</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap03">Chapter III</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap04">Chapter IV</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap05">Chapter V</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap06">Chapter VI</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap07">Chapter VII</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap08">Chapter VIII</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap09">Chapter IX</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap10">Chapter X</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap11">Chapter XI</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap12">Chapter XII</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap13">Chapter XIII</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap14">Chapter XIV</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap15">Chapter XV</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap16">Chapter XVI</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap17">Chapter XVII</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap18">Chapter XVIII</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap19">Chapter XIX</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap20">Chapter XX</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap21">Chapter XXI</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap22">Chapter XXII</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap23">Chapter XXIII</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap24">Chapter XXIV</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap25">Chapter XXV</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap26">Chapter XXVI</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap27">Chapter XXVII</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap28">Chapter XXVIII</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap29">Chapter XXIX</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap30">Chapter XXX</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap31">Chapter XXXI</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap32">Chapter XXXII</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap33">Chapter XXXIII</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap34">Chapter XXXIV</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap35">Chapter XXXV</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap36">Chapter XXXVI</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap37">Chapter XXXVII</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap38">Chapter XXXVIII</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap39">Chapter XXXIX</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap40">Chapter XL</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap41">Chapter XLI</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap42">Chapter XLII</a></td> +</tr> + +</table> + +<hr /> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap01"></a>Chapter I</h2> + +<p> +All is quiet in Moscow. The squeak of wheels is seldom heard in the +snow-covered street. There are no lights left in the windows and the street +lamps have been extinguished. Only the sound of bells, borne over the city from +the church towers, suggests the approach of morning. The streets are deserted. +At rare intervals a night-cabman’s sledge kneads up the snow and sand in the +street as the driver makes his way to another corner where he falls asleep +while waiting for a fare. An old woman passes by on her way to church, where a +few wax candles burn with a red light reflected on the gilt mountings of the +icons. Workmen are already getting up after the long winter night and going to +their work—but for the gentlefolk it is still evening. +</p> + +<p> +From a window in Chevalier’s Restaurant a light—illegal at that hour—is still +to be seen through a chink in the shutter. At the entrance a carriage, a +sledge, and a cabman’s sledge, stand close together with their backs to the +curbstone. A three-horse sledge from the post-station is there also. A +yard-porter muffled up and pinched with cold is sheltering behind the corner of +the house. +</p> + +<p> +“And what’s the good of all this jawing?” thinks the footman who sits in the +hall weary and haggard. “This always happens when I’m on duty.” From the +adjoining room are heard the voices of three young men, sitting there at a +table on which are wine and the remains of supper. One, a rather plain, thin, +neat little man, sits looking with tired kindly eyes at his friend, who is +about to start on a journey. Another, a tall man, lies on a sofa beside a table +on which are empty bottles, and plays with his watch-key. A third, wearing a +short, fur-lined coat, is pacing up and down the room stopping now and then to +crack an almond between his strong, rather thick, but well-tended fingers. He +keeps smiling at something and his face and eyes are all aglow. He speaks +warmly and gesticulates, but evidently does not find the words he wants and +those that occur to him seem to him inadequate to express what has risen to his +heart. +</p> + +<p> +“Now I can speak out fully,” said the traveller. “I don’t want to defend +myself, but I should like you at least to understand me as I understand myself, +and not look at the matter superficially. You say I have treated her badly,” he +continued, addressing the man with the kindly eyes who was watching him. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, you are to blame,” said the latter, and his look seemed to express still +more kindliness and weariness. +</p> + +<p> +“I know why you say that,” rejoined the one who was leaving. “To be loved is in +your opinion as great a happiness as to love, and if a man obtains it, it is +enough for his whole life.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, quite enough, my dear fellow, more than enough!” confirmed the plain +little man, opening and shutting his eyes. +</p> + +<p> +“But why shouldn’t the man love too?” said the traveller thoughtfully, looking +at his friend with something like pity. “Why shouldn’t one love? Because love +doesn’t come ... No, to be beloved is a misfortune. It is a misfortune to feel +guilty because you do not give something you cannot give. O my God!” he added, +with a gesture of his arm. “If it all happened reasonably, and not all +topsy-turvy—not in our way but in a way of its own! Why, it’s as if I had +stolen that love! You think so too, don’t deny it. You must think so. But will +you believe it, of all the horrid and stupid things I have found time to do in +my life—and there are many—this is one I do not and cannot repent of. Neither +at the beginning nor afterwards did I lie to myself or to her. It seemed to me +that I had at last fallen in love, but then I saw that it was an involuntary +falsehood, and that that was not the way to love, and I could not go on, but +she did. Am I to blame that I couldn’t? What was I to do?” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, it’s ended now!” said his friend, lighting a cigar to master his +sleepiness. “The fact is that you have not yet loved and do not know what love +is.” +</p> + +<p> +The man in the fur-lined coat was going to speak again, and put his hands to +his head, but could not express what he wanted to say. +</p> + +<p> +“Never loved! ... Yes, quite true, I never have! But after all, I have within +me a desire to love, and nothing could be stronger than that desire! But then, +again, does such love exist? There always remains something incomplete. Ah +well! What’s the use of talking? I’ve made an awful mess of life! But anyhow +it’s all over now; you are quite right. And I feel that I am beginning a new +life.” +</p> + +<p> +“Which you will again make a mess of,” said the man who lay on the sofa playing +with his watch-key. But the traveller did not listen to him. +</p> + +<p> +“I am sad and yet glad to go,” he continued. “Why I am sad I don’t know.” +</p> + +<p> +And the traveller went on talking about himself, without noticing that this did +not interest the others as much as it did him. A man is never such an egotist +as at moments of spiritual ecstasy. At such times it seems to him that there is +nothing on earth more splendid and interesting than himself. +</p> + +<p> +“Dmítri Andréich! The coachman won’t wait any longer!” said a young serf, +entering the room in a sheepskin coat, with a scarf tied round his head. “The +horses have been standing since twelve, and it’s now four o’clock!” +</p> + +<p> +Dmítri Andréich looked at his serf, Vanyúsha. The scarf round Vanyúsha’s head, +his felt boots and sleepy face, seemed to be calling his master to a new life +of labour, hardship, and activity. +</p> + +<p> +“True enough! Good-bye!” said he, feeling for the unfastened hook and eye on +his coat. +</p> + +<p> +In spite of advice to mollify the coachman by another tip, he put on his cap +and stood in the middle of the room. The friends kissed once, then again, and +after a pause, a third time. The man in the fur-lined coat approached the table +and emptied a champagne glass, then took the plain little man’s hand and +blushed. +</p> + +<p> +“Ah well, I will speak out all the same ... I must and will be frank with you +because I am fond of you ... Of course you love her—I always thought so—don’t +you?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” answered his friend, smiling still more gently. +</p> + +<p> +“And perhaps...” +</p> + +<p> +“Please sir, I have orders to put out the candles,” said the sleepy attendant, +who had been listening to the last part of the conversation and wondering why +gentlefolk always talk about one and the same thing. “To whom shall I make out +the bill? To you, sir?” he added, knowing whom to address and turning to the +tall man. +</p> + +<p> +“To me,” replied the tall man. “How much?” +</p> + +<p> +“Twenty-six rubles.” +</p> + +<p> +The tall man considered for a moment, but said nothing and put the bill in his +pocket. +</p> + +<p> +The other two continued their talk. +</p> + +<p> +“Good-bye, you are a capital fellow!” said the short plain man with the mild +eyes. Tears filled the eyes of both. They stepped into the porch. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, by the by,” said the traveller, turning with a blush to the tall man, +“will you settle Chevalier’s bill and write and let me know?” +</p> + +<p> +“All right, all right!” said the tall man, pulling on his gloves. “How I envy +you!” he added quite unexpectedly when they were out in the porch. +</p> + +<p> +The traveller got into his sledge, wrapped his coat about him, and said: “Well +then, come along!” He even moved a little to make room in the sledge for the +man who said he envied him—his voice trembled. +</p> + +<p> +“Good-bye, Mítya! I hope that with God’s help you...” said the tall one. But +his wish was that the other would go away quickly, and so he could not finish +the sentence. +</p> + +<p> +They were silent a moment. Then someone again said, “Good-bye,” and a voice +cried, “Ready,” and the coachman touched up the horses. +</p> + +<p> +“Hy, Elisár!” One of the friends called out, and the other coachman and the +sledge-drivers began moving, clicking their tongues and pulling at the reins. +Then the stiffened carriage-wheels rolled squeaking over the frozen snow. +</p> + +<p> +“A fine fellow, that Olénin!” said one of the friends. “But what an idea to go +to the Caucasus—as a cadet, too! I wouldn’t do it for anything. ... Are you +dining at the club tomorrow?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes.” +</p> + +<p> +They separated. +</p> + +<p> +The traveller felt warm, his fur coat seemed too hot. He sat on the bottom of +the sledge and unfastened his coat, and the three shaggy post-horses dragged +themselves out of one dark street into another, past houses he had never before +seen. It seemed to Olénin that only travellers starting on a long journey went +through those streets. All was dark and silent and dull around him, but his +soul was full of memories, love, regrets, and a pleasant tearful feeling. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap02"></a> Chapter II</h2> + +<p> +“I’m fond of them, very fond! ... First-rate fellows! ... Fine!” he kept +repeating, and felt ready to cry. But why he wanted to cry, who were the +first-rate fellows he was so fond of—was more than he quite knew. Now and then +he looked round at some house and wondered why it was so curiously built; +sometimes he began wondering why the post-boy and Vanyúsha, who were so +different from himself, sat so near, and together with him were being jerked +about and swayed by the tugs the side-horses gave at the frozen traces, and +again he repeated: “First rate ... very fond!” and once he even said: “And how +it seizes one ... excellent!” and wondered what made him say it. “Dear me, am I +drunk?” he asked himself. He had had a couple of bottles of wine, but it was +not the wine alone that was having this effect on Olénin. He remembered all the +words of friendship heartily, bashfully, spontaneously (as he believed) +addressed to him on his departure. He remembered the clasp of hands, glances, +the moments of silence, and the sound of a voice saying, “Good-bye, Mítya!” +when he was already in the sledge. He remembered his own deliberate frankness. +And all this had a touching significance for him. Not only friends and +relatives, not only people who had been indifferent to him, but even those who +did not like him, seemed to have agreed to become fonder of him, or to forgive +him, before his departure, as people do before confession or death. “Perhaps I +shall not return from the Caucasus,” he thought. And he felt that he loved his +friends and some one besides. He was sorry for himself. But it was not love for +his friends that so stirred and uplifted his heart that he could not repress +the meaningless words that seemed to rise of themselves to his lips; nor was it +love for a woman (he had never yet been in love) that had brought on this mood. +Love for himself, love full of hope—warm young love for all that was good in +his own soul (and at that moment it seemed to him that there was nothing but +good in it)—compelled him to weep and to mutter incoherent words. +</p> + +<p> +Olénin was a youth who had never completed his university course, never served +anywhere (having only a nominal post in some government office or other), who +had squandered half his fortune and had reached the age of twenty-four without +having done anything or even chosen a career. He was what in Moscow society is +termed <i>un jeune homme</i>. +</p> + +<p> +At the age of eighteen he was free—as only rich young Russians in the ’forties +who had lost their parents at an early age could be. Neither physical nor moral +fetters of any kind existed for him; he could do as he liked, lacking nothing +and bound by nothing. Neither relatives, nor fatherland, nor religion, nor +wants, existed for him. He believed in nothing and admitted nothing. But +although he believed in nothing he was not a morose or blase young man, nor +self-opinionated, but on the contrary continually let himself be carried away. +He had come to the conclusion that there is no such thing as love, yet his +heart always overflowed in the presence of any young and attractive woman. He +had long been aware that honours and position were nonsense, yet involuntarily +he felt pleased when at a ball Prince Sergius came up and spoke to him affably. +But he yielded to his impulses only in so far as they did not limit his +freedom. As soon as he had yielded to any influence and became conscious of its +leading on to labour and struggle, he instinctively hastened to free himself +from the feeling or activity into which he was being drawn and to regain his +freedom. In this way he experimented with society-life, the civil service, +farming, music—to which at one time he intended to devote his life—and even +with the love of women in which he did not believe. He meditated on the use to +which he should devote that power of youth which is granted to man only once in +a lifetime: that force which gives a man the power of making himself, or +even—as it seemed to him—of making the universe, into anything he wishes: +should it be to art, to science, to love of woman, or to practical activities? +It is true that some people are devoid of this impulse, and on entering life at +once place their necks under the first yoke that offers itself and honestly +labour under it for the rest of their lives. But Olénin was too strongly +conscious of the presence of that all-powerful God of Youth—of that capacity to +be entirely transformed into an aspiration or idea—the capacity to wish and to +do—to throw oneself headlong into a bottomless abyss without knowing why or +wherefore. He bore this consciousness within himself, was proud of it and, +without knowing it, was happy in that consciousness. Up to that time he had +loved only himself, and could not help loving himself, for he expected nothing +but good of himself and had not yet had time to be disillusioned. On leaving +Moscow he was in that happy state of mind in which a young man, conscious of +past mistakes, suddenly says to himself, “That was not the real thing.” All +that had gone before was accidental and unimportant. Till then he had not +really tried to live, but now with his departure from Moscow a new life was +beginning—a life in which there would be no mistakes, no remorse, and certainly +nothing but happiness. +</p> + +<p> +It is always the case on a long journey that till the first two or three stages +have been passed imagination continues to dwell on the place left behind, but +with the first morning on the road it leaps to the end of the journey and there +begins building castles in the air. So it happened to Olénin. +</p> + +<p> +After leaving the town behind, he gazed at the snowy fields and felt glad to be +alone in their midst. Wrapping himself in his fur coat, he lay at the bottom of +the sledge, became tranquil, and fell into a doze. The parting with his friends +had touched him deeply, and memories of that last winter spent in Moscow and +images of the past, mingled with vague thoughts and regrets, rose unbidden in +his imagination. +</p> + +<p> +He remembered the friend who had seen him off and his relations with the girl +they had talked about. The girl was rich. “How could he love her knowing that +she loved me?” thought he, and evil suspicions crossed his mind. “There is much +dishonesty in men when one comes to reflect.” Then he was confronted by the +question: “But really, how is it I have never been in love? Every one tells me +that I never have. Can it be that I am a moral monstrosity?” And he began to +recall all his infatuations. He recalled his entry into society, and a friend’s +sister with whom he spent several evenings at a table with a lamp on it which +lit up her slender fingers busy with needlework, and the lower part of her +pretty delicate face. He recalled their conversations that dragged on like the +game in which one passes on a stick which one keeps alight as long as possible, +and the general awkwardness and restraint and his continual feeling of +rebellion at all that conventionality. Some voice had always whispered: “That’s +not it, that’s not it,” and so it had proved. Then he remembered a ball and the +mazurka he danced with the beautiful D——. “How much in love I was that night +and how happy! And how hurt and vexed I was next morning when I woke and felt +myself still free! Why does not love come and bind me hand and foot?” thought +he. “No, there is no such thing as love! That neighbour who used to tell me, as +she told Dubróvin and the Marshal, that she loved the stars, was not <i>it</i> +either.” +</p> + +<p> +And now his farming and work in the country recurred to his mind, and in those +recollections also there was nothing to dwell on with pleasure. “Will they talk +long of my departure?” came into his head; but who “they” were he did not quite +know. Next came a thought that made him wince and mutter incoherently. It was +the recollection of M. Cappele the tailor, and the six hundred and +seventy-eight rubles he still owed him, and he recalled the words in which he +had begged him to wait another year, and the look of perplexity and resignation +which had appeared on the tailor’s face. “Oh, my God, my God!” he repeated, +wincing and trying to drive away the intolerable thought. “All the same and in +spite of everything she loved me,” thought he of the girl they had talked about +at the farewell supper. “Yes, had I married her I should not now be owing +anything, and as it is I am in debt to Vasílyev.” Then he remembered the last +night he had played with Vasílyev at the club (just after leaving her), and he +recalled his humiliating requests for another game and the other’s cold +refusal. “A year’s economizing and they will all be paid, and the devil take +them!”... But despite this assurance he again began calculating his outstanding +debts, their dates, and when he could hope to pay them off. “And I owe +something to Morell as well as to Chevalier,” thought he, recalling the night +when he had run up so large a debt. It was at a carousel at the gipsies +arranged by some fellows from Petersburg: Sáshka B——, an aide-de-camp to the +Tsar, Prince D——, and that pompous old——. “How is it those gentlemen are so +self-satisfied?” thought he, “and by what right do they form a clique to which +they think others must be highly flattered to be admitted? Can it be because +they are on the Emperor’s staff? Why, it’s awful what fools and scoundrels they +consider other people to be! But I showed them that I at any rate, on the +contrary, do not at all want their intimacy. All the same, I fancy Andrew, the +steward, would be amazed to know that I am on familiar terms with a man like +Sáshka B——, a colonel and an aide-de-camp to the Tsar! Yes, and no one drank +more than I did that evening, and I taught the gipsies a new song and everyone +listened to it. Though I have done many foolish things, all the same I am a +very good fellow,” thought he. +</p> + +<p> +Morning found him at the third post-stage. He drank tea, and himself helped +Vanyúsha to move his bundles and trunks and sat down among them, sensible, +erect, and precise, knowing where all his belongings were, how much money he +had and where it was, where he had put his passport and the post-horse +requisition and toll-gate papers, and it all seemed to him so well arranged +that he grew quite cheerful and the long journey before him seemed an extended +pleasure-trip. +</p> + +<p> +All that morning and noon he was deep in calculations of how many versts he had +travelled, how many remained to the next stage, how many to the next town, to +the place where he would dine, to the place where he would drink tea, and to +Stavrópol, and what fraction of the whole journey was already accomplished. He +also calculated how much money he had with him, how much would be left over, +how much would pay off all his debts, and what proportion of his income he +would spend each month. Towards evening, after tea, he calculated that to +Stavrópol there still remained seven-elevenths of the whole journey, that his +debts would require seven months’ economy and one-eighth of his whole fortune; +and then, tranquillized, he wrapped himself up, lay down in the sledge, and +again dozed off. His imagination was now turned to the future: to the Caucasus. +All his dreams of the future were mingled with pictures of Amalat-Beks, +Circassian women, mountains, precipices, terrible torrents, and perils. All +these things were vague and dim, but the love of fame and the danger of death +furnished the interest of that future. Now, with unprecedented courage and a +strength that amazed everyone, he slew and subdued an innumerable host of +hillsmen; now he was himself a hillsman and with them was maintaining their +independence against the Russians. As soon as he pictured anything definite, +familiar Moscow figures always appeared on the scene. Sáshka B—— fights with +the Russians or the hillsmen against him. Even the tailor Cappele in some +strange way takes part in the conqueror’s triumph. Amid all this he remembered +his former humiliations, weaknesses, and mistakes, and the recollection was not +disagreeable. It was clear that there among the mountains, waterfalls, fair +Circassians, and dangers, such mistakes could not recur. Having once made full +confession to himself there was an end of it all. One other vision, the +sweetest of them all, mingled with the young man’s every thought of the +future—the vision of a woman. And there, among the mountains, she appeared to +his imagination as a Circassian slave, a fine figure with a long plait of hair +and deep submissive eyes. He pictured a lonely hut in the mountains, and on the +threshold <i>she</i> stands awaiting him when, tired and covered with dust, +blood, and fame, he returns to her. He is conscious of her kisses, her +shoulders, her sweet voice, and her submissiveness. She is enchanting, but +uneducated, wild, and rough. In the long winter evenings he begins her +education. She is clever and gifted and quickly acquires all the knowledge +essential. Why not? She can quite easily learn foreign languages, read the +French masterpieces and understand them: <i>Notre Dame de Paris</i>, for +instance, is sure to please her. She can also speak French. In a drawing-room +she can show more innate dignity than a lady of the highest society. She can +sing, simply, powerfully, and passionately.... “Oh, what nonsense!” said he to +himself. But here they reached a post-station and he had to change into another +sledge and give some tips. But his fancy again began searching for the +“nonsense” he had relinquished, and again fair Circassians, glory, and his +return to Russia with an appointment as aide-de-camp and a lovely wife rose +before his imagination. “But there’s no such thing as love,” said he to +himself. “Fame is all rubbish. But the six hundred and seventy-eight rubles?... +And the conquered land that will bring me more wealth than I need for a +lifetime? It will not be right though to keep all that wealth for myself. I +shall have to distribute it. But to whom? Well, six hundred and seventy-eight +rubles to Cappele and then we’ll see.” ... Quite vague visions now cloud his +mind, and only Vanyúsha’s voice and the interrupted motion of the sledge break +his healthy youthful slumber. Scarcely conscious, he changes into another +sledge at the next stage and continues his journey. +</p> + +<p> +Next morning everything goes on just the same: the same kind of post-stations +and tea-drinking, the same moving horses’ cruppers, the same short talks with +Vanyúsha, the same vague dreams and drowsiness, and the same tired, healthy, +youthful sleep at night. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap03"></a> Chapter III</h2> + +<p> +The farther Olénin travelled from Central Russia the farther he left his +memories behind, and the nearer he drew to the Caucasus the lighter his heart +became. “I’ll stay away for good and never return to show myself in society,” +was a thought that sometimes occurred to him. “These people whom I see here are +<i>not</i> people. None of them know me and none of them can ever enter the +Moscow society I was in or find out about my past. And no one in that society +will ever know what I am doing, living among these people.” And quite a new +feeling of freedom from his whole past came over him among the rough beings he +met on the road whom he did not consider to be <i>people</i> in the sense that +his Moscow acquaintances were. +</p> + +<p> +The rougher the people and the fewer the signs of civilization the freer he +felt. Stavrópol, through which he had to pass, irked him. The signboards, some +of them even in French, ladies in carriages, cabs in the marketplace, and a +gentleman wearing a fur cloak and tall hat who was walking along the boulevard +and staring at the passersby, quite upset him. “Perhaps these people know some +of my acquaintances,” he thought; and the club, his tailor, cards, society ... +came back to his mind. But after Stavrópol everything was satisfactory—wild and +also beautiful and warlike, and Olénin felt happier and happier. All the +Cossacks, post-boys, and post-station masters seemed to him simple folk with +whom he could jest and converse simply, without having to consider to what +class they belonged. They all belonged to the human race which, without his +thinking about it, all appeared dear to Olénin, and they all treated him in a +friendly way. +</p> + +<p> +Already in the province of the Don Cossacks his sledge had been exchanged for a +cart, and beyond Stavrópol it became so warm that Olénin travelled without +wearing his fur coat. It was already spring—an unexpected joyous spring for +Olénin. At night he was no longer allowed to leave the Cossack villages, and +they said it was dangerous to travel in the evening. Vanyúsha began to be +uneasy, and they carried a loaded gun in the cart. Olénin became still happier. +At one of the post-stations the post-master told of a terrible murder that had +been committed recently on the high road. They began to meet armed men. “So +this is where it begins!” thought Olénin, and kept expecting to see the snowy +mountains of which mention was so often made. Once, towards evening, the Nogáy +driver pointed with his whip to the mountains shrouded in clouds. Olénin looked +eagerly, but it was dull and the mountains were almost hidden by the clouds. +Olénin made out something grey and white and fleecy, but try as he would he +could find nothing beautiful in the mountains of which he had so often read and +heard. The mountains and the clouds appeared to him quite alike, and he thought +the special beauty of the snow peaks, of which he had so often been told, was +as much an invention as Bach’s music and the love of women, in which he did not +believe. So he gave up looking forward to seeing the mountains. But early next +morning, being awakened in his cart by the freshness of the air, he glanced +carelessly to the right. The morning was perfectly clear. Suddenly he saw, +about twenty paces away as it seemed to him at first glance, pure white +gigantic masses with delicate contours, the distinct fantastic outlines of +their summits showing sharply against the far-off sky. When he had realized the +distance between himself and them and the sky and the whole immensity of the +mountains, and felt the infinitude of all that beauty, he became afraid that it +was but a phantasm or a dream. He gave himself a shake to rouse himself, but +the mountains were still the same. +</p> + +<p> +“What’s that! What is it?” he said to the driver. +</p> + +<p> +“Why, the mountains,” answered the Nogáy driver with indifference. +</p> + +<p> +“And I too have been looking at them for a long while,” said Vanyúsha. “Aren’t +they fine? They won’t believe it at home.” +</p> + +<p> +The quick progress of the three-horsed cart along the smooth road caused the +mountains to appear to be running along the horizon, while their rosy crests +glittered in the light of the rising sun. At first Olénin was only astonished +at the sight, then gladdened by it; but later on, gazing more and more intently +at that snow-peaked chain that seemed to rise not from among other black +mountains, but straight out of the plain, and to glide away into the distance, +he began by slow degrees to be penetrated by their beauty and at length to +<i>feel</i> the mountains. From that moment all he saw, all he thought, and all +he felt, acquired for him a new character, sternly majestic like the mountains! +All his Moscow reminiscences, shame, and repentance, and his trivial dreams +about the Caucasus, vanished and did not return. “Now it has begun,” a solemn +voice seemed to say to him. The road and the Térek, just becoming visible in +the distance, and the Cossack villages and the people, all no longer appeared +to him as a joke. He looked at himself or Vanyúsha, and again thought of the +mountains. ... Two Cossacks ride by, their guns in their cases swinging +rhythmically behind their backs, the white and bay legs of their horses +mingling confusedly ... and the mountains! Beyond the Térek rises the smoke +from a Tartar village... and the mountains! The sun has risen and glitters on +the Térek, now visible beyond the reeds ... and the mountains! From the village +comes a Tartar wagon, and women, beautiful young women, pass by... and the +mountains! “<i>Abreks</i> canter about the plain, and here am I driving along +and do not fear them! I have a gun, and strength, and youth... and the +mountains!” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap04"></a> Chapter IV</h2> + +<p> +That whole part of the Térek line (about fifty miles) along which lie the +villages of the Grebénsk Cossacks is uniform in character both as to country +and inhabitants. The Térek, which separates the Cossacks from the mountaineers, +still flows turbid and rapid though already broad and smooth, always depositing +greyish sand on its low reedy right bank and washing away the steep, though not +high, left bank, with its roots of century-old oaks, its rotting plane trees, +and young brushwood. On the right bank lie the villages of pro-Russian, though +still somewhat restless, Tartars. Along the left bank, back half a mile from +the river and standing five or six miles apart from one another, are Cossack +villages. In olden times most of these villages were situated on the banks of +the river; but the Térek, shifting northward from the mountains year by year, +washed away those banks, and now there remain only the ruins of the old +villages and of the gardens of pear and plum trees and poplars, all overgrown +with blackberry bushes and wild vines. No one lives there now, and one only +sees the tracks of the deer, the wolves, the hares, and the pheasants, who have +learned to love these places. From village to village runs a road cut through +the forest as a cannon-shot might fly. Along the roads are cordons of Cossacks +and watch-towers with sentinels in them. Only a narrow strip about seven +hundred yards wide of fertile wooded soil belongs to the Cossacks. To the north +of it begin the sand-drifts of the Nogáy or Mozdók steppes, which fetch far to +the north and run, Heaven knows where, into the Trukhmén, Astrakhán, and +Kirghíz-Kaisátsk steppes. To the south, beyond the Térek, are the Great +Chéchnya river, the Kochkálov range, the Black Mountains, yet another range, +and at last the snowy mountains, which can just be seen but have never yet been +scaled. In this fertile wooded strip, rich in vegetation, has dwelt as far back +as memory runs the fine warlike and prosperous Russian tribe belonging to the +sect of Old Believers, and called the Grebénsk Cossacks. +</p> + +<p> +Long long ago their Old Believer ancestors fled from Russia and settled beyond +the Térek among the Chéchens on the Grebén, the first range of wooded mountains +of Chéchnya. Living among the Chéchens the Cossacks intermarried with them and +adopted the manners and customs of the hill tribes, though they still retained +the Russian language in all its purity, as well as their Old Faith. A +tradition, still fresh among them, declares that Tsar Iván the Terrible came to +the Térek, sent for their Elders, and gave them the land on this side of the +river, exhorting them to remain friendly to Russia and promising not to enforce +his rule upon them nor oblige them to change their faith. Even now the Cossack +families claim relationship with the Chéchens, and the love of freedom, of +leisure, of plunder and of war, still form their chief characteristics. Only +the harmful side of Russian influence shows itself—by interference at +elections, by confiscation of church bells, and by the troops who are quartered +in the country or march through it. +</p> + +<p> +A Cossack is inclined to hate less the <i>dzhigit</i> hillsman who maybe has +killed his brother, than the soldier quartered on him to defend his village, +but who has defiled his hut with tobacco-smoke. He respects his enemy the +hillsman and despises the soldier, who is in his eyes an alien and an +oppressor. In reality, from a Cossack’s point of view a Russian peasant is a +foreign, savage, despicable creature, of whom he sees a sample in the hawkers +who come to the country and in the Ukrainian immigrants whom the Cossack +contemptuously calls “woolbeaters”. For him, to be smartly dressed means to be +dressed like a Circassian. The best weapons are obtained from the hillsmen and +the best horses are bought, or stolen, from them. A dashing young Cossack likes +to show off his knowledge of Tartar, and when carousing talks Tartar even to +his fellow Cossack. +</p> + +<p> +In spite of all these things this small Christian clan stranded in a tiny +corner of the earth, surrounded by half-savage Mohammedan tribes and by +soldiers, considers itself highly advanced, acknowledges none but Cossacks as +human beings, and despises everybody else. The Cossack spends most of his time +in the cordon, in action, or in hunting and fishing. He hardly ever works at +home. When he stays in the village it is an exception to the general rule and +then he is holiday-making. All Cossacks make their own wine, and drunkenness is +not so much a general tendency as a rite, the non-fulfilment of which would be +considered apostasy. The Cossack looks upon a woman as an instrument for his +welfare; only the unmarried girls are allowed to amuse themselves. A married +woman has to work for her husband from youth to very old age: his demands on +her are the Oriental ones of submission and labour. In consequence of this +outlook women are strongly developed both physically and mentally, and though +they are—as everywhere in the East—nominally in subjection, they possess far +greater influence and importance in family-life than Western women. Their +exclusion from public life and inurement to heavy male labour give the women +all the more power and importance in the household. A Cossack, who before +strangers considers it improper to speak affectionately or needlessly to his +wife, when alone with her is involuntarily conscious of her superiority. His +house and all his property, in fact the entire homestead, has been acquired and +is kept together solely by her labour and care. Though firmly convinced that +labour is degrading to a Cossack and is only proper for a Nogáy labourer or a +woman, he is vaguely aware of the fact that all he makes use of and calls his +own is the result of that toil, and that it is in the power of the woman (his +mother or his wife) whom he considers his slave, to deprive him of all he +possesses. Besides, the continuous performance of man’s heavy work and the +responsibilities entrusted to her have endowed the Grebénsk women with a +peculiarly independent masculine character and have remarkably developed their +physical powers, common sense, resolution, and stability. The women are in most +cases stronger, more intelligent, more developed, and handsomer than the men. A +striking feature of a Grebénsk woman’s beauty is the combination of the purest +Circassian type of face with the broad and powerful build of Northern women. +Cossack women wear the Circassian dress: a Tartar smock, <i>beshmet</i>, and +soft slippers; but they tie their kerchiefs round their heads in the Russian +fashion. Smartness, cleanliness and elegance in dress and in the arrangement of +their huts, are with them a custom and a necessity. In their relations with men +the women, and especially the unmarried girls, enjoy perfect freedom. +</p> + +<p> +Novomlínsk village was considered the very heart of Grebénsk Cossackdom. In it +more than elsewhere the customs of the old Grebénsk population have been +preserved, and its women have from time immemorial been renowned all over the +Caucasus for their beauty. A Cossack’s livelihood is derived from vineyards, +fruit-gardens, water melon and pumpkin plantations, from fishing, hunting, +maize and millet growing, and from war plunder. Novomlínsk village lies about +two and a half miles away from the Térek, from which it is separated by a dense +forest. On one side of the road which runs through the village is the river; on +the other, green vineyards and orchards, beyond which are seen the driftsands +of the Nogáy Steppe. The village is surrounded by earth-banks and prickly +bramble hedges, and is entered by tall gates hung between posts and covered +with little reed-thatched roofs. Beside them on a wooden gun-carriage stands an +unwieldy cannon captured by the Cossacks at some time or other, and which has +not been fired for a hundred years. A uniformed Cossack sentinel with dagger +and gun sometimes stands, and sometimes does not stand, on guard beside the +gates, and sometimes presents arms to a passing officer and sometimes does not. +</p> + +<p> +Below the roof of the gateway is written in black letters on a white board: +“Houses 266: male inhabitants 897: female 1012.” The Cossacks’ houses are all +raised on pillars two and a half feet from the ground. They are carefully +thatched with reeds and have large carved gables. If not new they are at least +all straight and clean, with high porches of different shapes; and they are not +built close together but have ample space around them, and are all +picturesquely placed along broad streets and lanes. In front of the large +bright windows of many of the houses, beyond the kitchen gardens, dark green +poplars and acacias with their delicate pale verdure and scented white blossoms +overtop the houses, and beside them grow flaunting yellow sunflowers, creepers, +and grape vines. In the broad open square are three shops where drapery, +sunflower and pumpkin seeds, locust beans and gingerbreads are sold; and +surrounded by a tall fence, loftier and larger than the other houses, stands +the Regimental Commander’s dwelling with its casement windows, behind a row of +tall poplars. Few people are to be seen in the streets of the village on +weekdays, especially in summer. The young men are on duty in the cordons or on +military expeditions; the old ones are fishing or helping the women in the +orchards and gardens. Only the very old, the sick, and the children, remain at +home. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap05"></a> Chapter V</h2> + +<p> +It was one of those wonderful evenings that occur only in the Caucasus. The sun +had sunk behind the mountains but it was still light. The evening glow had +spread over a third of the sky, and against its brilliancy the dull white +immensity of the mountains was sharply defined. The air was rarefied, +motionless, and full of sound. The shadow of the mountains reached for several +miles over the steppe. The steppe, the opposite side of the river, and the +roads, were all deserted. If very occasionally mounted men appeared, the +Cossacks in the cordon and the Chéchens in their <i>aouls</i> (villages) +watched them with surprised curiosity and tried to guess who those questionable +men could be. +</p> + +<p> +At nightfall people from fear of one another flock to their dwellings, and only +birds and beasts fearless of man prowl in those deserted spaces. Talking +merrily, the women who have been tying up the vines hurry away from the gardens +before sunset. The vineyards, like all the surrounding district, are deserted, +but the villages become very animated at that time of the evening. From all +sides, walking, riding, or driving in their creaking carts, people move towards +the village. Girls with their smocks tucked up and twigs in their hands run +chatting merrily to the village gates to meet the cattle that are crowding +together in a cloud of dust and mosquitoes which they bring with them from the +steppe. The well-fed cows and buffaloes disperse at a run all over the streets +and Cossack women in coloured <i>beshmets</i> go to and fro among them. You can +hear their merry laughter and shrieks mingling with the lowing of the cattle. +There an armed and mounted Cossack, on leave from the cordon, rides up to a hut +and, leaning towards the window, knocks. In answer to the knock the handsome +head of a young woman appears at the window and you can hear caressing, +laughing voices. There a tattered Nogáy labourer, with prominent cheekbones, +brings a load of reeds from the steppes, turns his creaking cart into the +Cossack captain’s broad and clean courtyard, and lifts the yoke off the oxen +that stand tossing their heads while he and his master shout to one another in +Tartar. Past a puddle that reaches nearly across the street, a barefooted +Cossack woman with a bundle of firewood on her back makes her laborious way by +clinging to the fences, holding her smock high and exposing her white legs. A +Cossack returning from shooting calls out in jest: “Lift it higher, shameless +thing!” and points his gun at her. The woman lets down her smock and drops the +wood. An old Cossack, returning home from fishing with his trousers tucked up +and his hairy grey chest uncovered, has a net across his shoulder containing +silvery fish that are still struggling; and to take a short cut climbs over his +neighbour’s broken fence and gives a tug to his coat which has caught on the +fence. There a woman is dragging a dry branch along and from round the corner +comes the sound of an axe. Cossack children, spinning their tops wherever there +is a smooth place in the street, are shrieking; women are climbing over fences +to avoid going round. From every chimney rises the odorous <i>kisyak</i> smoke. +From every homestead comes the sound of increased bustle, precursor to the +stillness of night. +</p> + +<p> +Granny Ulítka, the wife of the Cossack cornet who is also teacher in the +regimental school, goes out to the gates of her yard like the other women, and +waits for the cattle which her daughter Maryánka is driving along the street. +Before she has had time fully to open the wattle gate in the fence, an enormous +buffalo cow surrounded by mosquitoes rushes up bellowing and squeezes in. +Several well-fed cows slowly follow her, their large eyes gazing with +recognition at their mistress as they swish their sides with their tails. +</p> + +<p> +The beautiful and shapely Maryánka enters at the gate and throwing away her +switch quickly slams the gate to and rushes with all the speed of her nimble +feet to separate and drive the cattle into their sheds. “Take off your +slippers, you devil’s wench!” shouts her mother, “you’ve worn them into holes!” +Maryánka is not at all offended at being called a “devil’s wench”, but +accepting it as a term of endearment cheerfully goes on with her task. Her face +is covered with a kerchief tied round her head. She is wearing a pink smock and +a green <i>beshmet</i>. She disappears inside the lean-to shed in the yard, +following the big fat cattle; and from the shed comes her voice as she speaks +gently and persuasively to the buffalo: “Won’t she stand still? What a +creature! Come now, come old dear!” Soon the girl and the old woman pass from +the shed to the dairy carrying two large pots of milk, the day’s yield. From +the dairy chimney rises a thin cloud of <i>kisyak</i> smoke: the milk is being +used to make into clotted cream. The girl makes up the fire while her mother +goes to the gate. Twilight has fallen on the village. The air is full of the +smell of vegetables, cattle, and scented <i>kisyak</i> smoke. From the gates +and along the streets Cossack women come running, carrying lighted rags. From +the yards one hears the snorting and quiet chewing of the cattle eased of their +milk, while in the street only the voices of women and children sound as they +call to one another. It is rare on a week-day to hear the drunken voice of a +man. +</p> + +<p> +One of the Cossack wives, a tall, masculine old woman, approaches Granny Ulítka +from the homestead opposite and asks her for a light. In her hand she holds a +rag. +</p> + +<p> +“Have you cleared up, Granny?” +</p> + +<p> +“The girl is lighting the fire. Is it fire you want?” says Granny Ulítka, proud +of being able to oblige her neighbour. +</p> + +<p> +Both women enter the hut, and coarse hands unused to dealing with small +articles tremblingly lift the lid of a matchbox, which is a rarity in the +Caucasus. The masculine-looking new-comer sits down on the doorstep with the +evident intention of having a chat. +</p> + +<p> +“And is your man at the school, Mother?” she asked. +</p> + +<p> +“He’s always teaching the youngsters, Mother. But he writes that he’ll come +home for the holidays,” said the cornet’s wife. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, he’s a clever man, one sees; it all comes useful.” +</p> + +<p> +“Of course it does.” +</p> + +<p> +“And my Lukáshka is at the cordon; they won’t let him come home,” said the +visitor, though the cornet’s wife had known all this long ago. She wanted to +talk about her Lukáshka whom she had lately fitted out for service in the +Cossack regiment, and whom she wished to marry to the cornet’s daughter, +Maryánka. +</p> + +<p> +“So he’s at the cordon?” +</p> + +<p> +“He is, Mother. He’s not been home since last holidays. The other day I sent +him some shirts by Fómushkin. He says he’s all right, and that his superiors +are satisfied. He says they are looking out for <i>abreks</i> again. Lukáshka +is quite happy, he says.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah well, thank God,” said the cornet’s wife. “‘Snatcher’ is certainly the only +word for him.” Lukáshka was surnamed “the Snatcher” because of his bravery in +snatching a boy from a watery grave, and the cornet’s wife alluded to this, +wishing in her turn to say something agreeable to Lukáshka’s mother. +</p> + +<p> +“I thank God, Mother, that he’s a good son! He’s a fine fellow, everyone +praises him,” says Lukáshka’s mother. “All I wish is to get him married; then I +could die in peace.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, aren’t there plenty of young women in the village?” answered the +cornet’s wife slyly as she carefully replaced the lid of the matchbox with her +horny hands. +</p> + +<p> +“Plenty, Mother, plenty,” remarked Lukáshka’s mother, shaking her head. +“There’s your girl now, your Maryánka—that’s the sort of girl! You’d have to +search through the whole place to find such another!” The cornet’s wife knows +what Lukáshka’s mother is after, but though she believes him to be a good +Cossack she hangs back: first because she is a cornet’s wife and rich, while +Lukáshka is the son of a simple Cossack and fatherless, secondly because she +does not want to part with her daughter yet, but chiefly because propriety +demands it. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, when Maryánka grows up she’ll be marriageable too,” she answers soberly +and modestly. +</p> + +<p> +“I’ll send the matchmakers to you—I’ll send them! Only let me get the vineyard +done and then we’ll come and make our bows to you,” says Lukáshka’s mother. +“And we’ll make our bows to Elias Vasílich too.” +</p> + +<p> +“Elias, indeed!” says the cornet’s wife proudly. “It’s to me you must speak! +All in its own good time.” +</p> + +<p> +Lukáshka’s mother sees by the stern face of the cornet’s wife that it is not +the time to say anything more just now, so she lights her rag with the match +and says, rising: “Don’t refuse us, think of my words. I’ll go, it is time to +light the fire.” +</p> + +<p> +As she crosses the road swinging the burning rag, she meets Maryánka, who bows. +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, she’s a regular queen, a splendid worker, that girl!” she thinks, looking +at the beautiful maiden. “What need for her to grow any more? It’s time she was +married and to a good home; married to Lukáshka!” +</p> + +<p> +But Granny Ulítka had her own cares and she remained sitting on the threshold +thinking hard about something, till the girl called her. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap06"></a> Chapter VI</h2> + +<p> +The male population of the village spend their time on military expeditions and +in the cordon—or “at their posts”, as the Cossacks say. Towards evening, that +same Lukáshka the Snatcher, about whom the old women had been talking, was +standing on a watch-tower of the Nízhni-Protótsk post situated on the very +banks of the Térek. Leaning on the railing of the tower and screwing up his +eyes, he looked now far into the distance beyond the Térek, now down at his +fellow Cossacks, and occasionally he addressed the latter. The sun was already +approaching the snowy range that gleamed white above the fleecy clouds. The +clouds undulating at the base of the mountains grew darker and darker. The +clearness of evening was noticeable in the air. A sense of freshness came from +the woods, though round the post it was still hot. The voices of the talking +Cossacks vibrated more sonorously than before. The moving mass of the Térek’s +rapid brown waters contrasted more vividly with its motionless banks. The +waters were beginning to subside and here and there the wet sands gleamed drab +on the banks and in the shallows. The other side of the river, just opposite +the cordon, was deserted; only an immense waste of low-growing reeds stretched +far away to the very foot of the mountains. On the low bank, a little to one +side, could be seen the flat-roofed clay houses and the funnel-shaped chimneys +of a Chéchen village. The sharp eyes of the Cossack who stood on the +watch-tower followed, through the evening smoke of the pro-Russian village, the +tiny moving figures of the Chéchen women visible in the distance in their red +and blue garments. +</p> + +<p> +Although the Cossacks expected <i>abreks</i> to cross over and attack them from +the Tartar side at any moment, especially as it was May when the woods by the +Térek are so dense that it is difficult to pass through them on foot and the +river is shallow enough in places for a horseman to ford it, and despite the +fact that a couple of days before a Cossack had arrived with a circular from +the commander of the regiment announcing that spies had reported the intention +of a party of some eight men to cross the Térek, and ordering special +vigilance—no special vigilance was being observed in the cordon. The Cossacks, +unarmed and with their horses unsaddled just as if they were at home, spent +their time some in fishing, some in drinking, and some in hunting. Only the +horse of the man on duty was saddled, and with its feet hobbled was moving +about by the brambles near the wood, and only the sentinel had his Circassian +coat on and carried a gun and sword. The corporal, a tall thin Cossack with an +exceptionally long back and small hands and feet, was sitting on the earth-bank +of a hut with his <i>beshmet</i> unbuttoned. On his face was the lazy, bored +expression of a superior, and having shut his eyes he dropped his head upon the +palm first of one hand and then of the other. An elderly Cossack with a broad +greyish-black beard was lying in his shirt, girdled with a black strap, close +to the river and gazing lazily at the waves of the Térek as they monotonously +foamed and swirled. Others, also overcome by the heat and half naked, were +rinsing clothes in the Térek, plaiting a fishing line, or humming tunes as they +lay on the hot sand of the river bank. One Cossack, with a thin face much burnt +by the sun, lay near the hut evidently dead drunk, by a wall which though it +had been in shadow some two hours previously was now exposed to the sun’s +fierce slanting rays. +</p> + +<p> +Lukáshka, who stood on the watch-tower, was a tall handsome lad about twenty +years old and very like his mother. His face and whole build, in spite of the +angularity of youth, indicated great strength, both physical and moral. Though +he had only lately joined the Cossacks at the front, it was evident from the +expression of his face and the calm assurance of his attitude that he had +already acquired the somewhat proud and warlike bearing peculiar to Cossacks +and to men generally who continually carry arms, and that he felt he was a +Cossack and fully knew his own value. His ample Circassian coat was torn in +some places, his cap was on the back of his head Chéchen fashion, and his +leggings had slipped below his knees. His clothing was not rich, but he wore it +with that peculiar Cossack foppishness which consists in imitating the Chéchen +brave. Everything on a real brave is ample, ragged, and neglected, only his +weapons are costly. But these ragged clothes and these weapons are belted and +worn with a certain air and matched in a certain manner, neither of which can +be acquired by everybody and which at once strike the eye of a Cossack or a +hillsman. Lukáshka had this resemblance to a brave. With his hands folded under +his sword, and his eyes nearly closed, he kept looking at the distant Tartar +village. Taken separately his features were not beautiful, but anyone who saw +his stately carriage and his dark-browed intelligent face would involuntarily +say, “What a fine fellow!” +</p> + +<p> +“Look at the women, what a lot of them are walking about in the village,” said +he in a sharp voice, languidly showing his brilliant white teeth and not +addressing anyone in particular. +</p> + +<p> +Nazárka who was lying below immediately lifted his head and remarked: +</p> + +<p> +“They must be going for water.” +</p> + +<p> +“Supposing one scared them with a gun?” said Lukáshka, laughing, “Wouldn’t they +be frightened?” +</p> + +<p> +“It wouldn’t reach.” +</p> + +<p> +“What! Mine would carry beyond. Just wait a bit, and when their feast comes +round I’ll go and visit Giréy Khan and drink <i>buza</i> there,” said Lukáshka, +angrily swishing away the mosquitoes which attached themselves to him. +</p> + +<p> +A rustling in the thicket drew the Cossack’s attention. A pied mongrel +half-setter, searching for a scent and violently wagging its scantily furred +tail, came running to the cordon. Lukáshka recognized the dog as one belonging +to his neighbour, Uncle Eróshka, a hunter, and saw, following it through the +thicket, the approaching figure of the hunter himself. +</p> + +<p> +Uncle Eróshka was a gigantic Cossack with a broad, snow-white beard and such +broad shoulders and chest that in the wood, where there was no one to compare +him with, he did not look particularly tall, so well proportioned were his +powerful limbs. He wore a tattered coat and, over the bands with which his legs +were swathed, sandals made of undressed deer’s hide tied on with strings; while +on his head he had a rough little white cap. He carried over one shoulder a +screen to hide behind when shooting pheasants, and a bag containing a hen for +luring hawks, and a small falcon; over the other shoulder, attached by a strap, +was a wild cat he had killed; and stuck in his belt behind were some little +bags containing bullets, gunpowder, and bread, a horse’s tail to swish away the +mosquitoes, a large dagger in a torn scabbard smeared with old bloodstains, and +two dead pheasants. Having glanced at the cordon he stopped. +</p> + +<p> +“Hy, Lyam!” he called to the dog in such a ringing bass that it awoke an echo +far away in the wood; and throwing over his shoulder his big gun, of the kind +the Cossacks call a “flint”, he raised his cap. +</p> + +<p> +“Had a good day, good people, eh?” he said, addressing the Cossacks in the same +strong and cheerful voice, quite without effort, but as loudly as if he were +shouting to someone on the other bank of the river. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, yes, Uncle!” answered from all sides the voices of the young Cossacks. +</p> + +<p> +“What have you seen? Tell us!” shouted Uncle Eróshka, wiping the sweat from his +broad red face with the sleeve of his coat. +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, there’s a vulture living in the plane tree here, Uncle. As soon as night +comes he begins hovering round,” said Nazárka, winking and jerking his shoulder +and leg. +</p> + +<p> +“Come, come!” said the old man incredulously. +</p> + +<p> +“Really, Uncle! You must keep watch,” replied Nazárka with a laugh. +</p> + +<p> +The other Cossacks began laughing. +</p> + +<p> +The wag had not seen any vulture at all, but it had long been the custom of the +young Cossacks in the cordon to tease and mislead Uncle Eróshka every time he +came to them. +</p> + +<p> +“Eh, you fool, always lying!” exclaimed Lukáshka from the tower to Nazárka. +</p> + +<p> +Nazárka was immediately silenced. +</p> + +<p> +“It must be watched. I’ll watch,” answered the old man to the great delight of +all the Cossacks. “But have you seen any boars?” +</p> + +<p> +“Watching for boars, are you?” said the corporal, bending forward and +scratching his back with both hands, very pleased at the chance of some +distraction. “It’s <i>abreks</i> one has to hunt here and not boars! You’ve not +heard anything, Uncle, have you?” he added, needlessly screwing up his eyes and +showing his close-set white teeth. +</p> + +<p> +“<i>Abreks</i>,” said the old man. “No, I haven’t. I say, have you any +<i>chikhir?</i> Let me have a drink, there’s a good man. I’m really quite done +up. When the time comes I’ll bring you some fresh meat, I really will. Give me +a drink!” he added. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, and are you going to watch?” inquired the corporal, as though he had not +heard what the other said. +</p> + +<p> +“I did mean to watch tonight,” replied Uncle Eróshka. “Maybe, with God’s help, +I shall kill something for the holiday. Then you shall have a share, you shall +indeed!” +</p> + +<p> +“Uncle! Hallo, Uncle!” called out Lukáshka sharply from above, attracting +everybody’s attention. All the Cossacks looked up at him. “Just go to the upper +water-course, there’s a fine herd of boars there. I’m not inventing, really! +The other day one of our Cossacks shot one there. I’m telling you the truth,” +added he, readjusting the musket at his back and in a tone that showed he was +not joking. +</p> + +<p> +“Ah! Lukáshka the Snatcher is here!” said the old man, looking up. “Where has +he been shooting?” +</p> + +<p> +“Haven’t you seen? I suppose you’re too young!” said Lukáshka. “Close by the +ditch,” he went on seriously with a shake of the head. “We were just going +along the ditch when all at once we heard something crackling, but my gun was +in its case. Elias fired suddenly ... But I’ll show you the place, it’s not +far. You just wait a bit. I know every one of their footpaths ... Daddy Mósev,” +said he, turning resolutely and almost commandingly to the corporal, “it’s time +to relieve guard!” and holding aloft his gun he began to descend from the +watch-tower without waiting for the order. +</p> + +<p> +“Come down!” said the corporal, after Lukáshka had started, and glanced round. +“Is it your turn, Gúrka? Then go ... True enough your Lukáshka has become very +skilful,” he went on, addressing the old man. “He keeps going about just like +you, he doesn’t stay at home. The other day he killed a boar.” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap07"></a> Chapter VII</h2> + +<p> +The sun had already set and the shades of night were rapidly spreading from the +edge of the wood. The Cossacks finished their task round the cordon and +gathered in the hut for supper. Only the old man still stayed under the plane +tree watching for the vulture and pulling the string tied to the falcon’s leg, +but though a vulture was really perching on the plane tree it declined to swoop +down on the lure. Lukáshka, singing one song after another, was leisurely +placing nets among the very thickest brambles to trap pheasants. In spite of +his tall stature and big hands every kind of work, both rough and delicate, +prospered under Lukáshka’s fingers. +</p> + +<p> +“Hallo, Luke!” came Nazárka’s shrill, sharp voice calling him from the thicket +close by. “The Cossacks have gone in to supper.” +</p> + +<p> +Nazárka, with a live pheasant under his arm, forced his way through the +brambles and emerged on the footpath. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh!” said Lukáshka, breaking off in his song, “where did you get that cock +pheasant? I suppose it was in my trap?” +</p> + +<p> +Nazárka was of the same age as Lukáshka and had also only been at the front +since the previous spring. +</p> + +<p> +He was plain, thin and puny, with a shrill voice that rang in one’s ears. They +were neighbours and comrades. Lukáshka was sitting on the grass cross-legged +like a Tartar, adjusting his nets. +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t know whose it was—yours, I expect.” +</p> + +<p> +“Was it beyond the pit by the plane tree? Then it is mine! I set the nets last +night.” +</p> + +<p> +Lukáshka rose and examined the captured pheasant. After stroking the dark +burnished head of the bird, which rolled its eyes and stretched out its neck in +terror, Lukáshka took the pheasant in his hands. +</p> + +<p> +“We’ll have it in a pilau tonight. You go and kill and pluck it.” +</p> + +<p> +“And shall we eat it ourselves or give it to the corporal?” +</p> + +<p> +“He has plenty!” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t like killing them,” said Nazárka. +</p> + +<p> +“Give it here!” +</p> + +<p> +Lukáshka drew a little knife from under his dagger and gave it a swift jerk. +The bird fluttered, but before it could spread its wings the bleeding head bent +and quivered. +</p> + +<p> +“That’s how one should do it!” said Lukáshka, throwing down the pheasant. “It +will make a fat pilau.” +</p> + +<p> +Nazárka shuddered as he looked at the bird. +</p> + +<p> +“I say, Lukáshka, that fiend will be sending us to the ambush again tonight,” +he said, taking up the bird. (He was alluding to the corporal.) “He has sent +Fómushkin to get wine, and it ought to be his turn. He always puts it on us.” +</p> + +<p> +Lukáshka went whistling along the cordon. +</p> + +<p> +“Take the string with you,” he shouted. +</p> + +<p> +Nazirka obeyed. +</p> + +<p> +“I’ll give him a bit of my mind today, I really will,” continued Nazárka. +“Let’s say we won’t go; we’re tired out and there’s an end of it! No, really, +you tell him, he’ll listen to you. It’s too bad!” +</p> + +<p> +“Get along with you! What a thing to make a fuss about!” said Lukáshka, +evidently thinking of something else. “What bosh! If he made us turn out of the +village at night now, that would be annoying: there one can have some fun, but +here what is there? It’s all one whether we’re in the cordon or in ambush. What +a fellow you are!” +</p> + +<p> +“And are you going to the village?” +</p> + +<p> +“I’ll go for the holidays.” +</p> + +<p> +“Gúrka says your Dunáyka is carrying on with Fómushkin,” said Nazárka suddenly. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, let her go to the devil,” said Lukáshka, showing his regular white +teeth, though he did not laugh. “As if I couldn’t find another!” +</p> + +<p> +“Gúrka says he went to her house. Her husband was out and there was Fómushkin +sitting and eating pie. Gúrka stopped awhile and then went away, and passing by +the window he heard her say, ‘He’s gone, the fiend.... Why don’t you eat your +pie, my own? You needn’t go home for the night,’ she says. And Gúrka under the +window says to himself, ‘That’s fine!’” +</p> + +<p> +“You’re making it up.” +</p> + +<p> +“No, quite true, by Heaven!” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, if she’s found another let her go to the devil,” said Lukáshka, after a +pause. “There’s no lack of girls and I was sick of her anyway.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, see what a devil you are!” said Nazárka. “You should make up to the +cornet’s girl, Maryánka. Why doesn’t she walk out with any one?” +</p> + +<p> +Lukáshka frowned. “What of Maryánka? They’re all alike,” said he. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, you just try...” +</p> + +<p> +“What do you think? Are girls so scarce in the village?” +</p> + +<p> +And Lukáshka recommenced whistling, and went along the cordon pulling leaves +and branches from the bushes as he went. Suddenly, catching sight of a smooth +sapling, he drew the knife from the handle of his dagger and cut it down. “What +a ramrod it will make,” he said, swinging the sapling till it whistled through +the air. +</p> + +<p class="p2"> +The Cossacks were sitting round a low Tartar table on the earthen floor of the +clay-plastered outer room of the hut, when the question of whose turn it was to +lie in ambush was raised. “Who is to go tonight?” shouted one of the Cossacks +through the open door to the corporal in the next room. +</p> + +<p> +“Who is to go?” the corporal shouted back. “Uncle Burlák has been and Fómushkin +too,” said he, not quite confidently. “You two had better go, you and Nazárka,” +he went on, addressing Lukáshka. “And Ergushóv must go too; surely he has slept +it off?” +</p> + +<p> +“You don’t sleep it off yourself so why should he?” said Nazárka in a subdued +voice. +</p> + +<p> +The Cossacks laughed. +</p> + +<p> +Ergushóv was the Cossack who had been lying drunk and asleep near the hut. He +had only that moment staggered into the room rubbing his eyes. +</p> + +<p> +Lukáshka had already risen and was getting his gun ready. +</p> + +<p> +“Be quick and go! Finish your supper and go!” said the corporal; and without +waiting for an expression of consent he shut the door, evidently not expecting +the Cossack to obey. “Of course,” thought he, “if I hadn’t been ordered to I +wouldn’t send anyone, but an officer might turn up at any moment. As it is, +they say eight <i>abreks</i> have crossed over.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, I suppose I must go,” remarked Ergushóv, “it’s the regulation. Can’t be +helped! The times are such. I say, we must go.” +</p> + +<p> +Meanwhile Lukáshka, holding a big piece of pheasant to his mouth with both +hands and glancing now at Nazárka, now at Ergushóv, seemed quite indifferent to +what passed and only laughed at them both. Before the Cossacks were ready to go +into ambush. Uncle Eróshka, who had been vainly waiting under the plane tree +till night fell, entered the dark outer room. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, lads,” his loud bass resounded through the low-roofed room drowning all +the other voices, “I’m going with you. You’ll watch for Chéchens and I for +boars!” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap08"></a> Chapter VIII</h2> + +<p> +It was quite dark when Uncle Eróshka and the three Cossacks, in their cloaks +and shouldering their guns, left the cordon and went towards the place on the +Térek where they were to lie in ambush. Nazárka did not want to go at all, but +Lukáshka shouted at him and they soon started. After they had gone a few steps +in silence the Cossacks turned aside from the ditch and went along a path +almost hidden by reeds till they reached the river. On its bank lay a thick +black log cast up by the water. The reeds around it had been recently beaten +down. +</p> + +<p> +“Shall we lie here?” asked Nazárka. +</p> + +<p> +“Why not?” answered Lukáshka. “Sit down here and I’ll be back in a minute. I’ll +only show Daddy where to go.” +</p> + +<p> +“This is the best place; here we can see and not be seen,” said Ergushóv, “so +it’s here we’ll lie. It’s a first-rate place!” +</p> + +<p> +Nazárka and Ergushóv spread out their cloaks and settled down behind the log, +while Lukáshka went on with Uncle Eróshka. +</p> + +<p> +“It’s not far from here. Daddy,” said Lukáshka, stepping softly in front of the +old man; “I’ll show you where they’ve been—I’m the only one that knows, Daddy.” +</p> + +<p> +“Show me! You’re a fine fellow, a regular Snatcher!” replied the old man, also +whispering. +</p> + +<p> +Having gone a few steps Lukáshka stopped, stooped down over a puddle, and +whistled. “That’s where they come to drink, d’you see?” He spoke in a scarcely +audible voice, pointing to fresh hoof-prints. +</p> + +<p> +“Christ bless you,” answered the old man. “The boar will be in the hollow +beyond the ditch,” he added. “I’ll watch, and you can go.” +</p> + +<p> +Lukáshka pulled his cloak up higher and walked back alone, throwing swift +glances now to the left at the wall of reeds, now to the Térek rushing by below +the bank. “I daresay he’s watching or creeping along somewhere,” thought he of +a possible Chéchen hillsman. Suddenly a loud rustling and a splash in the water +made him start and seize his musket. From under the bank a boar leapt up—his +dark outline showing for a moment against the glassy surface of the water and +then disappearing among the reeds. Lukáshka pulled out his gun and aimed, but +before he could fire the boar had disappeared in the thicket. Lukáshka spat +with vexation and went on. On approaching the ambuscade he halted again and +whistled softly. His whistle was answered and he stepped up to his comrades. +</p> + +<p> +Nazárka, all curled up, was already asleep. Ergushóv sat with his legs crossed +and moved slightly to make room for Lukáshka. +</p> + +<p> +“How jolly it is to sit here! It’s really a good place,” said he. “Did you take +him there?” +</p> + +<p> +“Showed him where,” answered Lukáshka, spreading out his cloak. “But what a big +boar I roused just now close to the water! I expect it was the very one! You +must have heard the crash?” +</p> + +<p> +“I did hear a beast crashing through. I knew at once it was a beast. I thought +to myself: ‘Lukáshka has roused a beast,’” Ergushóv said, wrapping himself up +in his cloak. “Now I’ll go to sleep,” he added. “Wake me when the cocks crow. +We must have discipline. I’ll lie down and have a nap, and then you will have a +nap and I’ll watch—that’s the way.” +</p> + +<p> +“Luckily I don’t want to sleep,” answered Lukáshka. +</p> + +<p> +The night was dark, warm, and still. Only on one side of the sky the stars were +shining, the other and greater part was overcast by one huge cloud stretching +from the mountaintops. The black cloud, blending in the absence of any wind +with the mountains, moved slowly onwards, its curved edges sharply defined +against the deep starry sky. Only in front of him could the Cossack discern the +Térek and the distance beyond. Behind and on both sides he was surrounded by a +wall of reeds. Occasionally the reeds would sway and rustle against one another +apparently without cause. Seen from down below, against the clear part of the +sky, their waving tufts looked like the feathery branches of trees. Close in +front at his very feet was the bank, and at its base the rushing torrent. A +little farther on was the moving mass of glassy brown water which eddied +rhythmically along the bank and round the shallows. Farther still, water, +banks, and cloud all merged together in impenetrable gloom. Along the surface +of the water floated black shadows, in which the experienced eyes of the +Cossack detected trees carried down by the current. Only very rarely +sheet-lightning, mirrored in the water as in a black glass, disclosed the +sloping bank opposite. The rhythmic sounds of night—the rustling of the reeds, +the snoring of the Cossacks, the hum of mosquitoes, and the rushing water, were +every now and then broken by a shot fired in the distance, or by the gurgling +of water when a piece of bank slipped down, the splash of a big fish, or the +crashing of an animal breaking through the thick undergrowth in the wood. Once +an owl flew past along the Térek, flapping one wing against the other +rhythmically at every second beat. Just above the Cossack’s head it turned +towards the wood and then, striking its wings no longer after every other flap +but at every flap, it flew to an old plane tree where it rustled about for a +long time before settling down among the branches. At every one of these +unexpected sounds the watching Cossack listened intently, straining his +hearing, and screwing up his eyes while he deliberately felt for his musket. +</p> + +<p> +The greater part of the night was past. The black cloud that had moved westward +revealed the clear starry sky from under its torn edge, and the golden upturned +crescent of the moon shone above the mountains with a reddish light. The cold +began to be penetrating. Nazárka awoke, spoke a little, and fell asleep again. +Lukáshka feeling bored got up, drew the knife from his dagger-handle and began +to fashion his stick into a ramrod. His head was full of the Chéchens who lived +over there in the mountains, and of how their brave lads came across and were +not afraid of the Cossacks, and might even now be crossing the river at some +other spot. He thrust himself out of his hiding-place and looked along the +river but could see nothing. And as he continued looking out at intervals upon +the river and at the opposite bank, now dimly distinguishable from the water in +the faint moonlight, he no longer thought about the Chéchens but only of when +it would be time to wake his comrades, and of going home to the village. In the +village he imagined Dunáyka, his “little soul”, as the Cossacks call a man’s +mistress, and thought of her with vexation. Silvery mists, a sign of coming +morning, glittered white above the water, and not far from him young eagles +were whistling and flapping their wings. At last the crowing of a cock reached +him from the distant village, followed by the long-sustained note of another, +which was again answered by yet other voices. +</p> + +<p> +“Time to wake them,” thought Lukáshka, who had finished his ramrod and felt his +eyes growing heavy. Turning to his comrades he managed to make out which pair +of legs belonged to whom, when it suddenly seemed to him that he heard +something splash on the other side of the Térek. He turned again towards the +horizon beyond the hills, where day was breaking under the upturned crescent, +glanced at the outline of the opposite bank, at the Térek, and at the now +distinctly visible driftwood upon it. For one instant it seemed to him that he +was moving and that the Térek with the drifting wood remained stationary. Again +he peered out. One large black log with a branch particularly attracted his +attention. The tree was floating in a strange way right down the middle of the +stream, neither rocking nor whirling. It even appeared not to be floating +altogether with the current, but to be crossing it in the direction of the +shallows. Lukáshka stretching out his neck watched it intently. The tree +floated to the shallows, stopped, and shifted in a peculiar manner. Lukáshka +thought he saw an arm stretched out from beneath the tree. +</p> + +<p> +“Supposing I killed an <i>abrek</i> all by myself!” he thought, and seized his +gun with a swift, unhurried movement, putting up his gun-rest, placing the gun +upon it, and holding it noiselessly in position. Cocking the trigger, with +bated breath he took aim, still peering out intently. +</p> + +<p> +“I won’t wake them,” he thought. But his heart began beating so fast that he +remained motionless, listening. Suddenly the trunk gave a plunge and again +began to float across the stream towards our bank. +</p> + +<p> +“Suppose I miss?...” thought he, and now by the faint light of the moon he +caught a glimpse of a Tartar’s head in front of the floating wood. He aimed +straight at the head which appeared to be quite near—just at the end of his +rifle’s barrel. He glanced cross. “Right enough it is an <i>abrek!</i>” he +thought joyfully, and suddenly rising to his knees he again took aim. Having +found the sight, barely visible at the end of the long gun, he said: “In the +name of the Father and of the Son,” in the Cossack way learnt in his childhood, +and pulled the trigger. A flash of lightning lit up for an instant the reeds +and the water, and the sharp, abrupt report of the shot was carried across the +river, changing into a prolonged roll somewhere in the far distance. The piece +of driftwood now floated not across, but with the current, rocking and +whirling. +</p> + +<p> +“Stop, I say!” exclaimed Ergushóv, seizing his musket and raising himself +behind the log near which he was lying. +</p> + +<p> +“Shut up, you devil!” whispered Lukáshka, grinding his teeth. “<i>Abreks!</i>” +</p> + +<p> +“Whom have you shot?” asked Nazárka. “Who was it, Lukáshka?” +</p> + +<p> +Lukáshka did not answer. He was reloading his gun and watching the floating +wood. A little way off it stopped on a sand-bank, and from behind it something +large that rocked in the water came into view. +</p> + +<p> +“What did you shoot? Why don’t you speak?” insisted the Cossacks. +</p> + +<p> +“<i>Abreks</i>, I tell you!” said Lukáshka. +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t humbug! Did the gun go off? ...” +</p> + +<p> +“I’ve killed an <i>abrek</i>, that’s what I fired at,” muttered Lukáshka in a +voice choked by emotion, as he jumped to his feet. “A man was swimming...” he +said, pointing to the sandbank. “I killed him. Just look there.” +</p> + +<p> +“Have done with your humbugging!” said Ergushóv again, rubbing his eyes. +</p> + +<p> +“Have done with what? Look there,” said Lukáshka, seizing him by the shoulders +and pulling him with such force that Ergushóv groaned. +</p> + +<p> +He looked in the direction in which Lukáshka pointed, and discerning a body +immediately changed his tone. +</p> + +<p> +“O Lord! But I say, more will come! I tell you the truth,” said he softly, and +began examining his musket. “That was a scout swimming across: either the +others are here already or are not far off on the other side—I tell you for +sure!” Lukáshka was unfastening his belt and taking off his Circassian coat. +</p> + +<p> +“What are you up to, you idiot?” exclaimed Ergushóv. “Only show yourself and +you’ve lost all for nothing, I tell you true! If you’ve killed him he won’t +escape. Let me have a little powder for my musket-pan—you have some? Nazárka, +you go back to the cordon and look alive; but don’t go along the bank or you’ll +be killed—I tell you true.” +</p> + +<p> +“Catch me going alone! Go yourself!” said Nazárka angrily. +</p> + +<p> +Having taken off his coat, Lukáshka went down to the bank. +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t go in, I tell you!” said Ergushóv, putting some powder on the pan. +“Look, he’s not moving. I can see. It’s nearly morning; wait till they come +from the cordon. You go, Nazárka. You’re afraid! Don’t be afraid, I tell you.” +</p> + +<p> +“Luke, I say, Lukáshka! Tell us how you did it!” said Nazárka. +</p> + +<p> +Lukáshka changed his mind about going into the water just then. “Go quick to +the cordon and I will watch. Tell the Cossacks to send out the patrol. If the +<i>abreks</i> are on this side they must be caught,” said he. +</p> + +<p> +“That’s what I say. They’ll get off,” said Ergushóv, rising. “True, they must +be caught!” +</p> + +<p> +Ergushóv and Nazárka rose and, crossing themselves, started off for the +cordon—not along the riverbank but breaking their way through the brambles to +reach a path in the wood. +</p> + +<p> +“Now mind, Lukáshka—they may cut you down here, so you’d best keep a sharp +look-out, I tell you!” +</p> + +<p> +“Go along; I know,” muttered Lukáshka; and having examined his gun again he sat +down behind the log. +</p> + +<p> +He remained alone and sat gazing at the shallows and listening for the +Cossacks; but it was some distance to the cordon and he was tormented by +impatience. He kept thinking that the other <i>abreks</i> who were with the one +he had killed would escape. He was vexed with the <i>abreks</i> who were going +to escape just as he had been with the boar that had escaped the evening +before. He glanced round and at the opposite bank, expecting every moment to +see a man, and having arranged his gun-rest he was ready to fire. The idea that +he might himself be killed never entered his head. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap09"></a> Chapter IX</h2> + +<p> +It was growing light. The Chéchen’s body which was gently rocking in the +shallow water was now clearly visible. Suddenly the reeds rustled not far from +Luke and he heard steps and saw the feathery tops of the reeds moving. He set +his gun at full cock and muttered: “In the name of the Father and of the Son,” +but when the cock clicked the sound of steps ceased. +</p> + +<p> +“Hallo, Cossacks! Don’t kill your Daddy!” said a deep bass voice calmly; and +moving the reeds apart Daddy Eróshka came up close to Luke. +</p> + +<p> +“I very nearly killed you, by God I did!” said Lukáshka. +</p> + +<p> +“What have you shot?” asked the old man. +</p> + +<p> +His sonorous voice resounded through the wood and downward along the river, +suddenly dispelling the mysterious quiet of night around the Cossack. It was as +if everything had suddenly become lighter and more distinct. +</p> + +<p> +“There now. Uncle, you have not seen anything, but I’ve killed a beast,” said +Lukáshka, uncocking his gun and getting up with unnatural calmness. +</p> + +<p> +The old man was staring intently at the white back, now clearly visible, +against which the Térek rippled. +</p> + +<p> +“He was swimming with a log on his back. I spied him out! ... Look there. +There! He’s got blue trousers, and a gun I think.... Do you see?” inquired +Luke. +</p> + +<p> +“How can one help seeing?” said the old man angrily, and a serious and stern +expression appeared on his face. “You’ve killed a brave,” he said, apparently +with regret. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, I sat here and suddenly saw something dark on the other side. I spied +him when he was still over there. It was as if a man had come there and fallen +in. Strange! And a piece of driftwood, a good-sized piece, comes floating, not +with the stream but across it; and what do I see but a head appearing from +under it! Strange! I stretched out of the reeds but could see nothing; then I +rose and he must have heard, the beast, and crept out into the shallow and +looked about. ‘No, you don’t!’ I said, as soon as he landed and looked round, +‘you won’t get away!’ Oh, there was something choking me! I got my gun ready +but did not stir, and looked out. He waited a little and then swam out again; +and when he came into the moonlight I could see his whole back. ‘In the name of +the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Ghost’... and through the smoke I see +him struggling. He moaned, or so it seemed to me. ‘Ah,’ I thought, ‘the Lord be +thanked, I’ve killed him!’ And when he drifted onto the sand-bank I could see +him distinctly: he tried to get up but couldn’t. He struggled a bit and then +lay down. Everything could be seen. Look, he does not move—he must be dead! The +Cossacks have gone back to the cordon in case there should be any more of +them.” +</p> + +<p> +“And so you got him!” said the old man. “He is far away now, my lad! ...” And +again he shook his head sadly. +</p> + +<p> +Just then the sound reached them of breaking bushes and the loud voices of +Cossacks approaching along the bank on horseback and on foot. “Are you bringing +the skiff?” shouted Lukáshka. +</p> + +<p> +“You’re a trump, Luke! Lug it to the bank!” shouted one of the Cossacks. +</p> + +<p> +Without waiting for the skiff Lukáshka began to undress, keeping an eye all the +while on his prey. +</p> + +<p> +“Wait a bit, Nazárka is bringing the skiff,” shouted the corporal. +</p> + +<p> +“You fool! Maybe he is alive and only pretending! Take your dagger with you!” +shouted another Cossack. +</p> + +<p> +“Get along,” cried Luke, pulling off his trousers. He quickly undressed and, +crossing himself, jumped, plunging with a splash into the river. Then with long +strokes of his white arms, lifting his back high out of the water and breathing +deeply, he swam across the current of the Térek towards the shallows. A crowd +of Cossacks stood on the bank talking loudly. Three horsemen rode off to +patrol. The skiff appeared round a bend. Lukáshka stood up on the sandbank, +leaned over the body, and gave it a couple of shakes. +</p> + +<p> +“Quite dead!” he shouted in a shrill voice. +</p> + +<p> +The Chéchen had been shot in the head. He had on a pair of blue trousers, a +shirt, and a Circassian coat, and a gun and dagger were tied to his back. Above +all these a large branch was tied, and it was this which at first had misled +Lukáshka. +</p> + +<p> +“What a carp you’ve landed!” cried one of the Cossacks who had assembled in a +circle, as the body, lifted out of the skiff, was laid on the bank, pressing +down the grass. +</p> + +<p> +“How yellow he is!” said another. +</p> + +<p> +“Where have our fellows gone to search? I expect the rest of them are on the +other bank. If this one had not been a scout he would not have swum that way. +Why else should he swim alone?” said a third. +</p> + +<p> +“Must have been a smart one to offer himself before the others; a regular +brave!” said Lukáshka mockingly, shivering as he wrung out his clothes that had +got wet on the bank. +</p> + +<p> +“His beard is dyed and cropped.” +</p> + +<p> +“And he has tied a bag with a coat in it to his back.” +</p> + +<p> +“That would make it easier for him to swim,” said some one. +</p> + +<p> +“I say, Lukáshka,” said the corporal, who was holding the dagger and gun taken +from the dead man. “Keep the dagger for yourself and the coat too; but I’ll +give you three rubles for the gun. You see it has a hole in it,” said he, +blowing into the muzzle. “I want it just for a souvenir.” +</p> + +<p> +Lukáshka did not answer. Evidently this sort of begging vexed him but he knew +it could not be avoided. +</p> + +<p> +“See, what a devil!” said he, frowning and throwing down the Chéchen’s coat. +“If at least it were a good coat, but it’s a mere rag.” +</p> + +<p> +“It’ll do to fetch firewood in,” said one of the Cossacks. +</p> + +<p> +“Mósev, I’ll go home,” said Lukáshka, evidently forgetting his vexation and +wishing to get some advantage out of having to give a present to his superior. +</p> + +<p> +“All right, you may go!” +</p> + +<p> +“Take the body beyond the cordon, lads,” said the corporal, still examining the +gun, “and put a shelter over him from the sun. Perhaps they’ll send from the +mountains to ransom it.” +</p> + +<p> +“It isn’t hot yet,” said someone. +</p> + +<p> +“And supposing a jackal tears him? Would that be well?” remarked another +Cossack. +</p> + +<p> +“We’ll set a watch; if they should come to ransom him it won’t do for him to +have been torn.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, Lukáshka, whatever you do you must stand a pail of vodka for the lads,” +said the corporal gaily. +</p> + +<p> +“Of course! That’s the custom,” chimed in the Cossacks. “See what luck God has +sent you! Without ever having seen anything of the kind before, you’ve killed a +brave!” +</p> + +<p> +“Buy the dagger and coat and don’t be stingy, and I’ll let you have the +trousers too,” said Lukáshka. “They’re too tight for me; he was a thin devil.” +</p> + +<p> +One Cossack bought the coat for a ruble and another gave the price of two pails +of vodka for the dagger. +</p> + +<p> +“Drink, lads! I’ll stand you a pail!” said Luke. “I’ll bring it myself from the +village.” +</p> + +<p> +“And cut up the trousers into kerchiefs for the girls!” said Nazárka. +</p> + +<p> +The Cossacks burst out laughing. +</p> + +<p> +“Have done laughing!” said the corporal. “And take the body away. Why have you +put the nasty thing by the hut?” +</p> + +<p> +“What are you standing there for? Haul him along, lads!” shouted Lukáshka in a +commanding voice to the Cossacks, who reluctantly took hold of the body, +obeying him as though he were their chief. After dragging the body along for a +few steps the Cossacks let fall the legs, which dropped with a lifeless jerk, +and stepping apart they then stood silent for a few moments. Nazárka came up +and straightened the head, which was turned to one side so that the round wound +above the temple and the whole of the dead man’s face were visible. “See what a +mark he has made right in the brain,” he said. “He won’t get lost. His owners +will always know him!” No one answered, and again the Angel of Silence flew +over the Cossacks. +</p> + +<p> +The sun had risen high and its diverging beams were lighting up the dewy grass. +Near by, the Térek murmured in the awakened wood and, greeting the morning, the +pheasants called to one another. The Cossacks stood still and silent around the +dead man, gazing at him. The brown body, with nothing on but the wet blue +trousers held by a girdle over the sunken stomach, was well shaped and +handsome. The muscular arms lay stretched straight out by his sides; the blue, +freshly shaven, round head with the clotted wound on one side of it was thrown +back. The smooth tanned forehead contrasted sharply with the shaven part of the +head. The open glassy eyes with lowered pupils stared upwards, seeming to gaze +past everything. Under the red trimmed moustache the fine lips, drawn at the +corners, seemed stiffened into a smile of good-natured subtle raillery. The +fingers of the small hands covered with red hairs were bent inward, and the +nails were dyed red. +</p> + +<p> +Lukáshka had not yet dressed. He was wet. His neck was redder and his eyes +brighter than usual, his broad jaws twitched, and from his healthy body a +hardly perceptible steam rose in the fresh morning air. +</p> + +<p> +“He too was a man!” he muttered, evidently admiring the corpse. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, if you had fallen into his hands you would have had short shrift,” said +one of the Cossacks. +</p> + +<p> +The Angel of Silence had taken wing. The Cossacks began bustling about and +talking. Two of them went to cut brushwood for a shelter, others strolled +towards the cordon. Luke and Nazárka ran to get ready to go to the village. +</p> + +<p> +Half an hour later they were both on their way homewards, talking incessantly +and almost running through the dense woods which separated the Térek from the +village. +</p> + +<p> +“Mind, don’t tell her I sent you, but just go and find out if her husband is at +home,” Luke was saying in his shrill voice. +</p> + +<p> +“And I’ll go round to Yámka too,” said the devoted Nazárka. “We’ll have a +spree, shall we?” +</p> + +<p> +“When should we have one if not today?” replied Luke. +</p> + +<p> +When they reached the village the two Cossacks drank, and lay down to sleep +till evening. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap10"></a> Chapter X</h2> + +<p> +On the third day after the events above described, two companies of a Caucasian +infantry regiment arrived at the Cossack village of Novomlínsk. The horses had +been unharnessed and the companies’ wagons were standing in the square. The +cooks had dug a pit, and with logs gathered from various yards (where they had +not been sufficiently securely stored) were now cooking the food; the +pay-sergeants were settling accounts with the soldiers. The Service Corps men +were driving piles in the ground to which to tie the horses, and the +quartermasters were going about the streets just as if they were at home, +showing officers and men to their quarters. Here were green ammunition boxes in +a line, the company’s carts, horses, and cauldrons in which buckwheat porridge +was being cooked. +</p> + +<p> +Here were the captain and the lieutenant and the sergeant-major, Onisim +Mikháylovich, and all this was in the Cossack village where it was reported +that the companies were ordered to take up their quarters: therefore they were +at home here. +</p> + +<p> +But why they were stationed there, who the Cossacks were, and whether they +wanted the troops to be there, and whether they were Old Believers or not—was +all quite immaterial. Having received their pay and been dismissed, tired out +and covered with dust, the soldiers noisily and in disorder, like a swarm of +bees about to settle, spread over the squares and streets. +</p> + +<p> +Quite regardless of the Cossacks’ ill will, chattering merrily and with their +muskets clinking, by twos and threes they entered the huts and hung up their +accoutrements, unpacked their bags, and bantered the women. At their favourite +spot, round the porridge-cauldrons, a large group of soldiers assembled and +with little pipes between their teeth they gazed, now at the smoke which rose +into the hot sky, becoming visible when it thickened into white clouds as it +rose, and now at the camp fires which were quivering in the pure air like +molten glass, and bantered and made fun of the Cossack men and women because +they do not live at all like Russians. In all the yards one could see soldiers +and hear their laughter and the exasperated and shrill cries of Cossack women +defending their houses and refusing to give the soldiers water or cooking +utensils. Little boys and girls, clinging to their mothers and to each other, +followed all the movements of the troopers (never before seen by them) with +frightened curiosity, or ran after them at a respectful distance. +</p> + +<p> +The old Cossacks came out silently and dismally and sat on the earthen +embankments of their huts, and watched the soldiers’ activity with an air of +leaving it all to the will of God without understanding what would come of it. +</p> + +<p> +Olénin, who had joined the Caucasian Army as a cadet three months before, was +quartered in one of the best houses in the village, the house of the cornet, +Elias Vasílich—that is to say at Granny Ulítka’s. +</p> + +<p> +“Goodness knows what it will be like, Dmítri Andréich,” said the panting +Vanyúsha to Olénin, who, dressed in a Circassian coat and mounted on a Kabardá +horse which he had bought in Gróznoe, was after a five-hours’ march gaily +entering the yard of the quarters assigned to him. +</p> + +<p> +“Why, what’s the matter?” he asked, caressing his horse and looking merrily at +the perspiring, dishevelled, and worried Vanyúsha, who had arrived with the +baggage wagons and was unpacking. +</p> + +<p> +Olénin looked quite a different man. In place of his clean-shaven lips and chin +he had a youthful moustache and a small beard. Instead of a sallow complexion, +the result of nights turned into day, his cheeks, his forehead, and the skin +behind his ears were now red with healthy sunburn. In place of a clean new +black suit he wore a dirty white Circassian coat with a deeply pleated skirt, +and he bore arms. Instead of a freshly starched collar, his neck was tightly +clasped by the red band of his silk <i>beshmet</i>. He wore Circassian dress +but did not wear it well, and anyone would have known him for a Russian and not +a Tartar brave. It was the thing—but not the real thing. But for all that, his +whole person breathed health, joy, and satisfaction. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, it seems funny to you,” said Vanyúsha, “but just try to talk to these +people yourself: they set themselves against one and there’s an end of it. You +can’t get as much as a word out of them.” Vanyúsha angrily threw down a pail on +the threshold. “Somehow they don’t seem like Russians.” +</p> + +<p> +“You should speak to the Chief of the Village!” +</p> + +<p> +“But I don’t know where he lives,” said Vanyúsha in an offended tone. +</p> + +<p> +“Who has upset you so?” asked Olénin, looking round. +</p> + +<p> +“The devil only knows. Faugh! There is no real master here. They say he has +gone to some kind of <i>kriga</i>, and the old woman is a real devil. God +preserve us!” answered Vanyúsha, putting his hands to his head. “How we shall +live here I don’t know. They are worse than Tartars, I do declare—though they +consider themselves Christians! A Tartar is bad enough, but all the same he is +more noble. Gone to the <i>kriga</i> indeed! What this <i>kriga</i> they have +invented is, I don’t know!” concluded Vanyúsha, and turned aside. +</p> + +<p> +“It’s not as it is in the serfs’ quarters at home, eh?” chaffed Olénin without +dismounting. +</p> + +<p> +“Please sir, may I have your horse?” said Vanyúsha, evidently perplexed by this +new order of things but resigning himself to his fate. +</p> + +<p> +“So a Tartar is more noble, eh, Vanyúsha?” repeated Olénin, dismounting and +slapping the saddle. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, you’re laughing! You think it funny,” muttered Vanyúsha angrily. +</p> + +<p> +“Come, don’t be angry, Vanyúsha,” replied Olénin, still smiling. “Wait a +minute, I’ll go and speak to the people of the house; you’ll see I shall +arrange everything. You don’t know what a jolly life we shall have here. Only +don’t get upset.” +</p> + +<p> +Vanyúsha did not answer. Screwing up his eyes he looked contemptuously after +his master, and shook his head. Vanyúsha regarded Olénin as only his master, +and Olénin regarded Vanyúsha as only his servant; and they would both have been +much surprised if anyone had told them that they were friends, as they really +were without knowing it themselves. Vanyúsha had been taken into his +proprietor’s house when he was only eleven and when Olénin was the same age. +When Olénin was fifteen he gave Vanyúsha lessons for a time and taught him to +read French, of which the latter was inordinately proud; and when in specially +good spirits he still let off French words, always laughing stupidly when he +did so. +</p> + +<p> +Olénin ran up the steps of the porch and pushed open the door of the hut. +Maryánka, wearing nothing but a pink smock, as all Cossack women do in the +house, jumped away from the door, frightened, and pressing herself against the +wall covered the lower part of her face with the broad sleeve of her Tartar +smock. Having opened the door wider, Olénin in the semi-darkness of the passage +saw the whole tall, shapely figure of the young Cossack girl. With the quick +and eager curiosity of youth he involuntarily noticed the firm maidenly form +revealed by the fine print smock, and the beautiful black eyes fixed on him +with childlike terror and wild curiosity. +</p> + +<p> +“This is <i>she</i>,” thought Olénin. “But there will be many others like her” +came at once into his head, and he opened the inner door. +</p> + +<p> +Old Granny Ulítka, also dressed only in a smock, was stooping with her back +turned to him, sweeping the floor. + +</p> + +<p> +“Good-day to you. Mother! I’ve come about my lodgings,” he began. +</p> + +<p> +The Cossack woman, without unbending, turned her severe but still handsome face +towards him. +</p> + +<p> +“What have you come here for? Want to mock at us, eh? I’ll teach you to mock; +may the black plague seize you!” she shouted, looking askance from under her +frowning brow at the new-comer. +</p> + +<p> +Olénin had at first imagined that the way-worn, gallant Caucasian Army (of +which he was a member) would be everywhere received joyfully, and especially by +the Cossacks, our comrades in the war; and he therefore felt perplexed by this +reception. Without losing presence of mind however he tried to explain that he +meant to pay for his lodgings, but the old woman would not give him a hearing. +</p> + +<p> +“What have you come for? Who wants a pest like you, with your scraped face? You +just wait a bit; when the master returns he’ll show you your place. I don’t +want your dirty money! A likely thing—just as if we had never seen any! You’ll +stink the house out with your beastly tobacco and want to put it right with +money! Think we’ve never seen a pest! May you be shot in your bowels and your +heart!” shrieked the old woman in a piercing voice, interrupting Olénin. +</p> + +<p> +“It seems Vanyúsha was right!” thought Olénin. “‘A Tartar would be nobler’,” +and followed by Granny Ulítka’s abuse he went out of the hut. As he was +leaving, Maryánka, still wearing only her pink smock, but with her forehead +covered down to her eyes by a white kerchief, suddenly slipped out from the +passage past him. Pattering rapidly down the steps with her bare feet she ran +from the porch, stopped, and looking round hastily with laughing eyes at the +young man, vanished round the corner of the hut. +</p> + +<p> +Her firm youthful step, the untamed look of the eyes glistening from under the +white kerchief, and the firm stately build of the young beauty, struck Olénin +even more powerfully than before. “Yes, it must be <i>she</i>,” he thought, and +troubling his head still less about the lodgings, he kept looking round at +Maryánka as he approached Vanyúsha. +</p> + +<p> +“There you see, the girl too is quite savage, just like a wild filly!” said +Vanyúsha, who though still busy with the luggage wagon had now cheered up a +bit. “<i>La fame!</i>” he added in a loud triumphant voice and burst out +laughing. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap11"></a> Chapter XI</h2> + +<p> +Towards evening the master of the house returned from his fishing, and having +learnt that the cadet would pay for the lodging, pacified the old woman and +satisfied Vanyúsha’s demands. +</p> + +<p> +Everything was arranged in the new quarters. Their hosts moved into the winter +hut and let their summer hut to the cadet for three rubles a month. Olénin had +something to eat and went to sleep. Towards evening he woke up, washed and made +himself tidy, dined, and having lit a cigarette sat down by the window that +looked onto the street. It was cooler. The slanting shadow of the hut with its +ornamental gables fell across the dusty road and even bent upwards at the base +of the wall of the house opposite. The steep reed-thatched roof of that house +shone in the rays of the setting sun. The air grew fresher. Everything was +peaceful in the village. The soldiers had settled down and become quiet. The +herds had not yet been driven home and the people had not returned from their +work. +</p> + +<p> +Olénin’s lodging was situated almost at the end of the village. At rare +intervals, from somewhere far beyond the Térek in those parts whence Olénin had +just come (the Chéchen or the Kumýtsk plain), came muffled sounds of firing. +Olénin was feeling very well contented after three months of bivouac life. His +newly washed face was fresh and his powerful body clean (an unaccustomed +sensation after the campaign) and in all his rested limbs he was conscious of a +feeling of tranquillity and strength. His mind, too, felt fresh and clear. He +thought of the campaign and of past dangers. He remembered that he had faced +them no worse than other men, and that he was accepted as a comrade among +valiant Caucasians. His Moscow recollections were left behind Heaven knows how +far! The old life was wiped out and a quite new life had begun in which there +were as yet no mistakes. Here as a new man among new men he could gain a new +and good reputation. He was conscious of a youthful and unreasoning joy of +life. Looking now out of the window at the boys spinning their tops in the +shadow of the house, now round his neat new lodging, he thought how pleasantly +he would settle down to this new Cossack village life. Now and then he glanced +at the mountains and the blue sky, and an appreciation of the solemn grandeur +of nature mingled with his reminiscences and dreams. His new life had begun, +not as he imagined it would when he left Moscow, but unexpectedly well. “The +mountains, the mountains, the mountains!” they permeated all his thoughts and +feelings. +</p> + +<p> +“He’s kissed his dog and licked the jug! ... Daddy Eróshka has kissed his dog!” +suddenly the little Cossacks who had been spinning their tops under the window +shouted, looking towards the side street. “He’s drunk his bitch, and his +dagger!” shouted the boys, crowding together and stepping backwards. +</p> + +<p> +These shouts were addressed to Daddy Eróshka, who with his gun on his shoulder +and some pheasants hanging at his girdle was returning from his shooting +expedition. +</p> + +<p> +“I have done wrong, lads, I have!” he said, vigorously swinging his arms and +looking up at the windows on both sides of the street. “I have drunk the bitch; +it was wrong,” he repeated, evidently vexed but pretending not to care. +</p> + +<p> +Olénin was surprised by the boys’ behavior towards the old hunter, but was +still more struck by the expressive, intelligent face and the powerful build of +the man whom they called Daddy Eróshka. +</p> + +<p> +“Here Daddy, here Cossack!” he called. “Come here!” +</p> + +<p> +The old man looked into the window and stopped. +</p> + +<p> +“Good evening, good man,” he said, lifting his little cap off his cropped head. +</p> + +<p> +“Good evening, good man,” replied Olénin. “What is it the youngsters are +shouting at you?” +</p> + +<p> +Daddy Eróshka came up to the window. “Why, they’re teasing the old man. No +matter, I like it. Let them joke about their old daddy,” he said with those +firm musical intonations with which old and venerable people speak. “Are you an +army commander?” he added. +</p> + +<p> +“No, I am a cadet. But where did you kill those pheasants?” asked Olénin. +</p> + +<p> +“I dispatched these three hens in the forest,” answered the old man, turning +his broad back towards the window to show the hen pheasants which were hanging +with their heads tucked into his belt and staining his coat with blood. +“Haven’t you seen any?” he asked. “Take a brace if you like! Here you are,” and +he handed two of the pheasants in at the window. “Are you a sportsman +yourself?” he asked. +</p> + +<p> +“I am. During the campaign I killed four myself.” +</p> + +<p> +“Four? What a lot!” said the old man sarcastically. “And are you a drinker? Do +you drink <i>chikhir?</i>” +</p> + +<p> +“Why not? I like a drink.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, I see you are a trump! We shall be <i>kunaks</i>, you and I,” said Daddy +Eróshka. +</p> + +<p> +“Step in,” said Olénin. “We’ll have a drop of <i>chikhir</i>.” +</p> + +<p> +“I might as well,” said the old man, “but take the pheasants.” The old man’s +face showed that he liked the cadet. He had seen at once that he could get free +drinks from him, and that therefore it would be all right to give him a brace +of pheasants. +</p> + +<p> +Soon Daddy Eróshka’s figure appeared in the doorway of the hut, and it was only +then that Olénin became fully conscious of the enormous size and sturdy build +of this man, whose red-brown face with its perfectly white broad beard was all +furrowed by deep lines produced by age and toil. For an old man, the muscles of +his legs, arms, and shoulders were quite exceptionally large and prominent. +There were deep scars on his head under the short-cropped hair. His thick +sinewy neck was covered with deep intersecting folds like a bull’s. His horny +hands were bruised and scratched. He stepped lightly and easily over the +threshold, unslung his gun and placed it in a corner, and casting a rapid +glance round the room noted the value of the goods and chattels deposited in +the hut, and with out-turned toes stepped softly, in his sandals of raw hide, +into the middle of the room. He brought with him a penetrating but not +unpleasant smell of <i>chikhir</i> wine, vodka, gunpowder, and congealed blood. +</p> + +<p> +Daddy Eróshka bowed down before the icons, smoothed his beard, and approaching +Olénin held out his thick brown hand. “<i>Koshkildy</i>,” said he; “That is +Tartar for ‘Good-day’—‘Peace be unto you,’ it means in their tongue.” +</p> + +<p> +“<i>Koshkildy</i>, I know,” answered Olénin, shaking hands. +</p> + +<p> +“Eh, but you don’t, you won’t know the right order! Fool!” said Daddy Eróshka, +shaking his head reproachfully. “If anyone says ‘<i>Koshkildy</i>’ to you, you +must say ‘<i>Allah rasi bo sun</i>,’ that is, ‘God save you.’ That’s the way, +my dear fellow, and not ‘<i>Koshkildy</i>.’ But I’ll teach you all about it. We +had a fellow here, Elias Mósevich, one of your Russians, he and I were +<i>kunaks</i>. He was a trump, a drunkard, a thief, a sportsman—and what a +sportsman! I taught him everything.” +</p> + +<p> +“And what will you teach me?” asked Olénin, who was becoming more and more +interested in the old man. +</p> + +<p> +“I’ll take you hunting and teach you to fish. I’ll show you Chéchens and find a +girl for you, if you like—even that! That’s the sort I am! I’m a wag!”—and the +old man laughed. “I’ll sit down. I’m tired. <i>Karga?</i>” he added +inquiringly. +</p> + +<p> +“And what does ‘<i>Karga</i>’ mean?” asked Olénin. +</p> + +<p> +“Why, that means ‘All right’ in Georgian. But I say it just so. It is a way I +have, it’s my favourite word. <i>Karga</i>, <i>Karga</i>. I say it just so; in +fun I mean. Well, lad, won’t you order the <i>chikhir?</i> You’ve got an +orderly, haven’t you?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes.” +</p> + +<p> +“Hey, Iván!” shouted the old man. “All your soldiers are Iváns. Is yours Iván?” +</p> + +<p> +“True enough, his name is Iván—Vanyúsha. Here Vanyúsha! Please get some +<i>chikhir</i> from our landlady and bring it here.” +</p> + +<p> +“Iván or Vanyúsha, that’s all one. Why are all your soldiers Iváns? Iván, old +fellow,” said the old man, “you tell them to give you some from the barrel they +have begun. They have the best <i>chikhir</i> in the village. But don’t give +more than thirty kopeks for the quart, mind, because that witch would be only +too glad.... Our people are anathema people; stupid people,” Daddy Eróshka +continued in a confidential tone after Vanyúsha had gone out. “They do not look +upon you as on men, you are worse than a Tartar in their eyes. ‘Worldly +Russians’ they say. But as for me, though you are a soldier you are still a +man, and have a soul in you. Isn’t that right? Elias Mósevich was a soldier, +yet what a treasure of a man he was! Isn’t that so, my dear fellow? That’s why +our people don’t like me; but I don’t care! I’m a merry fellow, and I like +everybody. I’m Eróshka; yes, my dear fellow.” +</p> + +<p> +And the old Cossack patted the young man affectionately on the shoulder. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap12"></a> Chapter XII</h2> + +<p> +Vanyúsha, who meanwhile had finished his housekeeping arrangements and had even +been shaved by the company’s barber and had pulled his trousers out of his high +boots as a sign that the company was stationed in comfortable quarters, was in +excellent spirits. He looked attentively but not benevolently at Eróshka, as at +a wild beast he had never seen before, shook his head at the floor which the +old man had dirtied and, having taken two bottles from under a bench, went to +the landlady. +</p> + +<p> +“Good evening, kind people,” he said, having made up his mind to be very +gentle. “My master has sent me to get some <i>chikhir</i>. Will you draw some +for me, good folk?” +</p> + +<p> +The old woman gave no answer. The girl, who was arranging the kerchief on her +head before a little Tartar mirror, looked round at Vanyúsha in silence. +</p> + +<p> +“I’ll pay money for it, honoured people,” said Vanyúsha, jingling the coppers +in his pocket. “Be kind to us and we, too will be kind to you,” he added. +</p> + +<p> +“How much?” asked the old woman abruptly. “A quart.” +</p> + +<p> +“Go, my own, draw some for them,” said Granny Ulítka to her daughter. “Take it +from the cask that’s begun, my precious.” +</p> + +<p> +The girl took the keys and a decanter and went out of the hut with Vanyúsha. +</p> + +<p> +“Tell me, who is that young woman?” asked Olénin, pointing to Maryánka, who was +passing the window. The old man winked and nudged the young man with his elbow. +</p> + +<p> +“Wait a bit,” said he and reached out of the window. “Khm,” he coughed, and +bellowed, “Maryánka dear. Hallo, Maryánka, my girlie, won’t you love me, +darling? I’m a wag,” he added in a whisper to Olénin. The girl, not turning her +head and swinging her arms regularly and vigorously, passed the window with the +peculiarly smart and bold gait of a Cossack woman and only turned her dark +shaded eyes slowly towards the old man. +</p> + +<p> +“Love me and you’ll be happy,” shouted Eróshka, winking, and he looked +questioningly at the cadet. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m a fine fellow, I’m a wag!” he added. “She’s a regular queen, that girl. +Eh?” +</p> + +<p> +“She is lovely,” said Olénin. “Call her here!” +</p> + +<p> +“No, no,” said the old man. “For that one a match is being arranged with +Lukáshka, Luke, a fine Cossack, a brave, who killed an <i>abrek</i> the other +day. I’ll find you a better one. I’ll find you one that will be all dressed up +in silk and silver. Once I’ve said it I’ll do it. I’ll get you a regular +beauty!” +</p> + +<p> +“You, an old man—and say such things,” replied Olénin. “Why, it’s a sin!” +</p> + +<p> +“A sin? Where’s the sin?” said the old man emphatically. “A sin to look at a +nice girl? A sin to have some fun with her? Or is it a sin to love her? Is that +so in your parts? ... No, my dear fellow, it’s not a sin, it’s salvation! God +made you and God made the girl too. He made it all; so it is no sin to look at +a nice girl. That’s what she was made for; to be loved and to give joy. That’s +how I judge it, my good fellow.” +</p> + +<p> +Having crossed the yard and entered a cool dark storeroom filled with barrels, +Maryánka went up to one of them and repeating the usual prayer plunged a dipper +into it. Vanyúsha standing in the doorway smiled as he looked at her. He +thought it very funny that she had only a smock on, close-fitting behind and +tucked up in front, and still funnier that she wore a necklace of silver coins. +He thought this quite un-Russian and that they would all laugh in the serfs’ +quarters at home if they saw a girl like that. “<i>La fille comme c’est tres +bien</i>, for a change,” he thought. “I’ll tell that to my master.” +</p> + +<p> +“What are you standing in the light for, you devil!” the girl suddenly shouted. +“Why don’t you pass me the decanter!” +</p> + +<p> +Having filled the decanter with cool red wine, Maryánka handed it to Vanyúsha. +</p> + +<p> +“Give the money to Mother,” she said, pushing away the hand in which he held +the money. +</p> + +<p> +Vanyúsha laughed. +</p> + +<p> +“Why are you so cross, little dear?” he said good-naturedly, irresolutely +shuffling with his feet while the girl was covering the barrel. +</p> + +<p> +She began to laugh. +</p> + +<p> +“And you! Are you kind?” +</p> + +<p> +“We, my master and I, are very kind,” Vanyúsha answered decidedly. “We are so +kind that wherever we have stayed our hosts were always very grateful. It’s +because he’s generous.” +</p> + +<p> +The girl stood listening. +</p> + +<p> +“And is your master married?” she asked. +</p> + +<p> +“No. The master is young and unmarried, because noble gentlemen can never marry +young,” said Vanyúsha didactically. +</p> + +<p> +“A likely thing! See what a fed-up buffalo he is—and too young to marry! Is he +the chief of you all?” she asked. +</p> + +<p> +“My master is a cadet; that means he’s not yet an officer, but he’s more +important than a general—he’s an important man! Because not only our colonel, +but the Tsar himself, knows him,” proudly explained Vanyúsha. “We are not like +those other beggars in the line regiment, and our papa himself was a Senator. +He had more than a thousand serfs, all his own, and they send us a thousand +rubles at a time. That’s why everyone likes us. Another may be a captain but +have no money. What’s the use of that?” +</p> + +<p> +“Go away. I’ll lock up,” said the girl, interrupting him. +</p> + +<p> +Vanyúsha brought Olénin the wine and announced that “<i>La fille c’est tres +joulie</i>,” and, laughing stupidly, at once went out. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap13"></a> Chapter XIII</h2> + +<p> +Meanwhile the tattoo had sounded in the village square. The people had returned +from their work. The herd lowed as in clouds of golden dust it crowded at the +village gate. The girls and the women hurried through the streets and yards, +turning in their cattle. The sun had quite hidden itself behind the distant +snowy peaks. One pale bluish shadow spread over land and sky. Above the +darkened gardens stars just discernible were kindling, and the sounds were +gradually hushed in the village. The cattle having been attended to and left +for the night, the women came out and gathered at the corners of the streets +and, cracking sunflower seeds with their teeth, settled down on the earthen +embankments of the houses. Later on Maryánka, having finished milking the +buffalo and the other two cows, also joined one of these groups. +</p> + +<p> +The group consisted of several women and girls and one old Cossack man. +</p> + +<p> +They were talking about the <i>abrek</i> who had been killed. +</p> + +<p> +The Cossack was narrating and the women questioning him. +</p> + +<p> +“I expect he’ll get a handsome reward,” said one of the women. +</p> + +<p> +“Of course. It’s said that they’ll send him a cross.” +</p> + +<p> +“Mósev did try to wrong him. Took the gun away from him, but the authorities at +Kizlyár heard of it.” +</p> + +<p> +“A mean creature that Mósev is!” +</p> + +<p> +“They say Lukáshka has come home,” remarked one of the girls. +</p> + +<p> +“He and Nazárka are merry-making at Yámka’s.” (Yámka was an unmarried, +disreputable Cossack woman who kept an illicit pot-house.) “I heard say they +had drunk half a pailful.” +</p> + +<p> +“What luck that Snatcher has,” somebody remarked. “A real snatcher. But there’s +no denying he’s a fine lad, smart enough for anything, a right-minded lad! His +father was just such another. Daddy Kiryák was: he takes after his father. When +he was killed the whole village howled. Look, there they are,” added the +speaker, pointing to the Cossacks who were coming down the street towards them. +</p> + +<p> +“And Ergushóv has managed to come along with them too! The drunkard!” +</p> + +<p> +Lukáshka, Nazárka, and Ergushóv, having emptied half a pail of vodka, were +coming towards the girls. The faces of all three, but especially that of the +old Cossack, were redder than usual. Ergushóv was reeling and kept laughing and +nudging Nazárka in the ribs. +</p> + +<p> +“Why are you not singing?” he shouted to the girls. “Sing to our merry-making, +I tell you!” +</p> + +<p> +They were welcomed with the words, “Had a good day? Had a good day?” +</p> + +<p> +“Why sing? It’s not a holiday,” said one of the women. “You’re tight, so you go +and sing.” +</p> + +<p> +Ergushóv roared with laughter and nudged Nazárka. “You’d better sing. And I’ll +begin too. I’m clever, I tell you.” +</p> + +<p> +“Are you asleep, fair ones?” said Nazárka. “We’ve come from the cordon to drink +your health. We’ve already drunk Lukáshka’s health.” +</p> + +<p> +Lukáshka, when he reached the group, slowly raised his cap and stopped in front +of the girls. His broad cheekbones and neck were red. He stood and spoke softly +and sedately, but in his tranquillity and sedateness there was more of +animation and strength than in all Nazárka’s loquacity and bustle. He reminded +one of a playful colt that with a snort and a flourish of its tail suddenly +stops short and stands as though nailed to the ground with all four feet. +Lukáshka stood quietly in front of the girls, his eyes laughed, and he spoke +but little as he glanced now at his drunken companions and now at the girls. +When Maryánka joined the group he raised his cap with a firm deliberate +movement, moved out of her way and then stepped in front of her with one foot a +little forward and with his thumbs in his belt, fingering his dagger. Maryánka +answered his greeting with a leisurely bow of her head, settled down on the +earth-bank, and took some seeds out of the bosom of her smock. Lukáshka, +keeping his eyes fixed on Maryánka, slowly cracked seeds and spat out the +shells. All were quiet when Maryánka joined the group. +</p> + +<p> +“Have you come for long?” asked a woman, breaking the silence. +</p> + +<p> +“Till tomorrow morning,” quietly replied Lukáshka. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, God grant you get something good,” said the Cossack; “I’m glad of it, as +I’ve just been saying.” +</p> + +<p> +“And I say so too,” put in the tipsy Ergushóv, laughing. “What a lot of +visitors have come,” he added, pointing to a soldier who was passing by. “The +soldiers’ vodka is good—I like it.” +</p> + +<p> +“They’ve sent three of the devils to us,” said one of the women. “Grandad went +to the village Elders, but they say nothing can be done.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, ha! Have you met with trouble?” said Ergushóv. +</p> + +<p> +“I expect they have smoked you out with their tobacco?” asked another woman. +“Smoke as much as you like in the yard, I say, but we won’t allow it inside the +hut. Not if the Elder himself comes, I won’t allow it. Besides, they may rob +you. He’s not quartered any of them on himself, no fear, that devil’s son of an +Elder.” +</p> + +<p> +“You don’t like it?” Ergushóv began again. +</p> + +<p> +“And I’ve also heard say that the girls will have to make the soldiers’ beds +and offer them <i>chikhir</i> and honey,” said Nazárka, putting one foot +forward and tilting his cap like Lukáshka. +</p> + +<p> +Ergushóv burst into a roar of laughter, and seizing the girl nearest to him, he +embraced her. “I tell you true.” +</p> + +<p> +“Now then, you black pitch!” squealed the girl, “I’ll tell your old woman.” +</p> + +<p> +“Tell her,” shouted he. “That’s quite right what Nazárka says; a circular has +been sent round. He can read, you know. Quite true!” And he began embracing the +next girl. +</p> + +<p> +“What are you up to, you beast?” squealed the rosy, round-faced Ústenka, +laughing and lifting her arm to hit him. +</p> + +<p> +The Cossack stepped aside and nearly fell. +</p> + +<p> +“There, they say girls have no strength, and you nearly killed me.” +</p> + +<p> +“Get away, you black pitch, what devil has brought you from the cordon?” said +Ústenka, and turning away from him she again burst out laughing. “You were +asleep and missed the <i>abrek</i>, didn’t you? Suppose he had done for you it +would have been all the better.” +</p> + +<p> +“You’d have howled, I expect,” said Nazárka, laughing. +</p> + +<p> +“Howled! A likely thing.” +</p> + +<p> +“Just look, she doesn’t care. She’d howl, Nazárka, eh? Would she?” said +Ergushóv. +</p> + +<p> +Lukáshka all this time had stood silently looking at Maryánka. His gaze +evidently confused the girl. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, Maryánka! I hear they’ve quartered one of the chiefs on you?” he said, +drawing nearer. +</p> + +<p> +Maryánka, as was her wont, waited before she replied, and slowly raising her +eyes looked at the Cossack. Lukáshka’s eyes were laughing as if something +special, apart from what was said, was taking place between himself and the +girl. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, it’s all right for them as they have two huts,” replied an old woman on +Maryánka’s behalf, “but at Fómushkin’s now they also have one of the chiefs +quartered on them and they say one whole corner is packed full with his things, +and the family have no room left. Was such a thing ever heard of as that they +should turn a whole horde loose in the village?” she said. “And what the plague +are they going to do here?” +</p> + +<p> +“I’ve heard say they’ll build a bridge across the Térek,” said one of the +girls. +</p> + +<p> +“And I’ve been told that they will dig a pit to put the girls in because they +don’t love the lads,” said Nazárka, approaching Ústenka; and he again made a +whimsical gesture which set everybody laughing, and Ergushóv, passing by +Maryánka, who was next in turn, began to embrace an old woman. +</p> + +<p> +“Why don’t you hug Maryánka? You should do it to each in turn,” said Nazárka. +</p> + +<p> +“No, my old one is sweeter,” shouted the Cossack, kissing the struggling old +woman. +</p> + +<p> +“You’ll throttle me,” she screamed, laughing. +</p> + +<p> +The tramp of regular footsteps at the other end of the street interrupted their +laughter. Three soldiers in their cloaks, with their muskets on their +shoulders, were marching in step to relieve guard by the ammunition wagon. +</p> + +<p> +The corporal, an old cavalry man, looked angrily at the Cossacks and led his +men straight along the road where Lukáshka and Nazárka were standing, so that +they should have to get out of the way. Nazárka moved, but Lukáshka only +screwed up his eyes and turned his broad back without moving from his place. +</p> + +<p> +“People are standing here, so you go round,” he muttered, half turning his head +and tossing it contemptuously in the direction of the soldiers. +</p> + +<p> +The soldiers passed by in silence, keeping step regularly along the dusty road. +</p> + +<p> +Maryánka began laughing and all the other girls chimed in. +</p> + +<p> +“What swells!” said Nazárka, “Just like long-skirted choristers,” and he walked +a few steps down the road imitating the soldiers. +</p> + +<p> +Again everyone broke into peals of laughter. +</p> + +<p> +Lukáshka came slowly up to Maryánka. +</p> + +<p> +“And where have you put up the chief?” he asked. +</p> + +<p> +Maryánka thought for a moment. +</p> + +<p> +“We’ve let him have the new hut,” she said. +</p> + +<p> +“And is he old or young,” asked Lukáshka, sitting down beside her. +</p> + +<p> +“Do you think I’ve asked?” answered the girl. “I went to get him some +<i>chikhir</i> and saw him sitting at the window with Daddy Eróshka. Red-headed +he seemed. They’ve brought a whole cartload of things.” +</p> + +<p> +And she dropped her eyes. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, how glad I am that I got leave from the cordon!” said Lukáshka, moving +closer to the girl and looking straight in her eyes all the time. +</p> + +<p> +“And have you come for long?” asked Maryánka, smiling slightly. +</p> + +<p> +“Till the morning. Give me some sunflower seeds,” he said, holding out his +hand. +</p> + +<p> +Maryánka now smiled outright and unfastened the neckband of her smock. +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t take them all,” she said. +</p> + +<p> +“Really I felt so dull all the time without you, I swear I did,” he said in a +calm, restrained whisper, helping himself to some seeds out of the bosom of the +girl’s smock, and stooping still closer over her he continued with laughing +eyes to talk to her in low tones. +</p> + +<p> +“I won’t come, I tell you,” Maryánka suddenly said aloud, leaning away from +him. +</p> + +<p> +“No really ... what I wanted to say to you, ...” whispered Lukáshka. “By the +Heavens! Do come!” +</p> + +<p> +Maryánka shook her head, but did so with a smile. +</p> + +<p> +“Nursey Maryánka! Hallo Nursey! Mammy is calling! Supper time!” shouted +Maryánka’s little brother, running towards the group. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m coming,” replied the girl. “Go, my dear, go alone—I’ll come in a minute.” +</p> + +<p> +Lukáshka rose and raised his cap. +</p> + +<p> +“I expect I had better go home too, that will be best,” he said, trying to +appear unconcerned but hardly able to repress a smile, and he disappeared +behind the corner of the house. +</p> + +<p> +Meanwhile night had entirely enveloped the village. Bright stars were scattered +over the dark sky. The streets became dark and empty. Nazárka remained with the +women on the earth-bank and their laughter was still heard, but Lukáshka, +having slowly moved away from the girls, crouched down like a cat and then +suddenly started running lightly, holding his dagger to steady it: not +homeward, however, but towards the cornet’s house. Having passed two streets he +turned into a lane and lifting the skirt of his coat sat down on the ground in +the shadow of a fence. “A regular cornet’s daughter!” he thought about +Maryánka. “Won’t even have a lark—the devil! But just wait a bit.” +</p> + +<p> +The approaching footsteps of a woman attracted his attention. He began +listening, and laughed all by himself. Maryánka with bowed head, striking the +pales of the fences with a switch, was walking with rapid regular strides +straight towards him. Lukáshka rose. Maryánka started and stopped. +</p> + +<p> +“What an accursed devil! You frightened me! So you have not gone home?” she +said, and laughed aloud. +</p> + +<p> +Lukáshka put one arm round her and with the other hand raised her face. “What I +wanted to tell you, by Heaven!” his voice trembled and broke. +</p> + +<p> +“What are you talking of, at night time!” answered Maryánka. “Mother is waiting +for me, and you’d better go to your sweetheart.” +</p> + +<p> +And freeing herself from his arms she ran away a few steps. When she had +reached the wattle fence of her home she stopped and turned to the Cossack who +was running beside her and still trying to persuade her to stay a while with +him. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, what do you want to say, midnight-gadabout?” and she again began +laughing. +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t laugh at me, Maryánka! By the Heaven! Well, what if I have a sweetheart? +May the devil take her! Only say the word and now I’ll love you—I’ll do +anything you wish. Here they are!” and he jingled the money in his pocket. “Now +we can live splendidly. Others have pleasures, and I? I get no pleasure from +you, Maryánka dear!” +</p> + +<p> +The girl did not answer. She stood before him breaking her switch into little +bits with a rapid movement of her fingers. +</p> + +<p> +Lukáshka suddenly clenched his teeth and fists. +</p> + +<p> +“And why keep waiting and waiting? Don’t I love you, darling? You can do what +you like with me,” said he suddenly, frowning angrily and seizing both her +hands. +</p> + +<p> +The calm expression of Maryánka’s face and voice did not change. +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t bluster, Lukáshka, but listen to me,” she answered, not pulling away her +hands but holding the Cossack at arm’s length. “It’s true I am a girl, but you +listen to me! It does not depend on me, but if you love me I’ll tell you this. +Let go my hands, I’ll tell you without.—I’ll marry you, but you’ll never get +any nonsense from me,” said Maryánka without turning her face. +</p> + +<p> +“What, you’ll marry me? Marriage does not depend on us. Love me yourself, +Maryánka dear,” said Lukáshka, from sullen and furious becoming again gentle, +submissive, and tender, and smiling as he looked closely into her eyes. +</p> + +<p> +Maryánka clung to him and kissed him firmly on the lips. +</p> + +<p> +“Brother dear!” she whispered, pressing him convulsively to her. Then, suddenly +tearing herself away, she ran into the gate of her house without looking round. +</p> + +<p> +In spite of the Cossack’s entreaties to wait another minute to hear what he had +to say, Maryánka did not stop. +</p> + +<p> +“Go,” she cried, “you’ll be seen! I do believe that devil, our lodger, is +walking about the yard.” +</p> + +<p> +“Cornet’s daughter,” thought Lukáshka. “She will marry me. Marriage is all very +well, but you just love me!” +</p> + +<p> +He found Nazárka at Yámka’s house, and after having a spree with him went to +Dunáyka’s house, where, in spite of her not being faithful to him, he spent the +night. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap14"></a> Chapter XIV</h2> + +<p> +It was quite true that Olénin had been walking about the yard when Maryánka +entered the gate, and had heard her say, “That devil, our lodger, is walking +about.” He had spent that evening with Daddy Eróshka in the porch of his new +lodging. He had had a table, a samovar, wine, and a candle brought out, and +over a cup of tea and a cigar he listened to the tales the old man told seated +on the threshold at his feet. Though the air was still, the candle dripped and +flickered: now lighting up the post of the porch, now the table and crockery, +now the cropped white head of the old man. Moths circled round the flame and, +shedding the dust of their wings, fluttered on the table and in the glasses, +flew into the candle flame, and disappeared in the black space beyond. Olénin +and Eróshka had emptied five bottles of <i>chikhir</i>. Eróshka filled the +glasses every time, offering one to Olénin, drinking his health, and talking +untiringly. He told of Cossack life in the old days: of his father, “The +Broad”, who alone had carried on his back a boar’s carcass weighing three +hundredweight, and drank two pails of <i>chikhir</i> at one sitting. He told of +his own days and his chum Gírchik, with whom during the plague he used to +smuggle felt cloaks across the Térek. He told how one morning he had killed two +deer, and about his “little soul” who used to run to him at the cordon at +night. He told all this so eloquently and picturesquely that Olénin did not +notice how time passed. “Ah yes, my dear fellow, you did not know me in my +golden days; then I’d have shown you things. Today it’s ‘Eróshka licks the +jug’, but then Eróshka was famous in the whole regiment. Whose was the finest +horse? Who had a Gurda sword? To whom should one go to get a drink? With whom +go on the spree? Who should be sent to the mountains to kill Ahmet Khan? Why, +always Eróshka! Whom did the girls love? Always Eróshka had to answer for it. +Because I was a real brave: a drinker, a thief (I used to seize herds of horses +in the mountains), a singer; I was a master of every art! There are no Cossacks +like that nowadays. It’s disgusting to look at them. When they’re that high +(Eróshka held his hand three feet from the ground) they put on idiotic boots +and keep looking at them—that’s all the pleasure they know. Or they’ll drink +themselves foolish, not like men but all wrong. And who was I? I was Eróshka, +the thief; they knew me not only in this village but up in the mountains. +Tartar princes, my <i>kunaks</i>, used to come to see me! I used to be +everybody’s <i>kunak</i>. If he was a Tartar—with a Tartar; an Armenian—with an +Armenian; a soldier—with a soldier; an officer—with an officer! I didn’t care +as long as he was a drinker. He says you should cleanse yourself from +intercourse with the world, not drink with soldiers, not eat with a Tartar.” +</p> + +<p> +“Who says all that?” asked Olénin. +</p> + +<p> +“Why, our teacher! But listen to a Mullah or a Tartar Cadi. He says, ‘You +unbelieving Giaours, why do you eat pig?’ That shows that everyone has his own +law. But I think it’s all one. God has made everything for the joy of man. +There is no sin in any of it. Take example from an animal. It lives in the +Tartar’s reeds or in ours. Wherever it happens to go, there is its home! +Whatever God gives it, that it eats! But our people say we have to lick red-hot +plates in hell for that. And I think it’s all a fraud,” he added after a pause. +</p> + +<p> +“What is a fraud?” asked Olénin. +</p> + +<p> +“Why, what the preachers say. We had an army captain in Chervlëna who was my +<i>kunak:</i> a fine fellow just like me. He was killed in Chéchnya. Well, he used to +say that the preachers invent all that out of their own heads. ‘When you die +the grass will grow on your grave and that’s all!’” The old man laughed. “He +was a desperate fellow.” +</p> + +<p> +“And how old are you?” asked Olénin. +</p> + +<p> +“The Lord only knows! I must be about seventy. When a Tsaritsa reigned in +Russia I was no longer very small. So you can reckon it out. I must be +seventy.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes you must, but you are still a fine fellow.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, thank Heaven I am healthy, quite healthy, except that a woman, a witch, +has harmed me....” +</p> + +<p> +“How?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, just harmed me.” +</p> + +<p> +“And so when you die the grass will grow?” repeated Olénin. +</p> + +<p> +Eróshka evidently did not wish to express his thought clearly. He was silent +for a while. +</p> + +<p> +“And what did you think? Drink!” he shouted suddenly, smiling and handing +Olénin some wine. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap15"></a> Chapter XV</h2> + +<p> +“Well, what was I saying?” he continued, trying to remember. “Yes, that’s the +sort of man I am. I am a hunter. There is no hunter to equal me in the whole +army. I will find and show you any animal and any bird, and what and where. I +know it all! I have dogs, and two guns, and nets, and a screen and a hawk. I +have everything, thank the Lord! If you are not bragging but are a real +sportsman, I’ll show you everything. Do you know what a man I am? When I have +found a track—I know the animal. I know where he will lie down and where he’ll +drink or wallow. I make myself a perch and sit there all night watching. What’s +the good of staying at home? One only gets into mischief, gets drunk. And here +women come and chatter, and boys shout at me—enough to drive one mad +</p> + +<p> +“It’s a different matter when you go out at nightfall, choose yourself a place, +press down the reeds and sit there and stay waiting, like a jolly fellow. One +knows everything that goes on in the woods. One looks up at the sky: the stars +move, you look at them and find out from them how the time goes. One looks +round—the wood is rustling; one goes on waiting, now there comes a crackling—a +boar comes to rub himself; one listens to hear the young eaglets screech and +then the cocks give voice in the village, or the geese. When you hear the geese +you know it is not yet midnight. And I know all about it! Or when a gun is +fired somewhere far away, thoughts come to me. One thinks, who is that firing? +Is it another Cossack like myself who has been watching for some animal? And +has he killed it? Or only wounded it so that now the poor thing goes through +the reeds smearing them with its blood all for nothing? I don’t like that! Oh, +how I dislike it! Why injure a beast? You fool, you fool! Or one thinks, ‘Maybe +an <i>abrek</i> has killed some silly little Cossack.’ All this passes through +one’s mind. And once as I sat watching by the river I saw a cradle floating +down. It was sound except for one corner which was broken off. Thoughts did +come that time! I thought some of your soldiers, the devils, must have got into +a Tartar village and seized the Chéchen women, and one of the devils has killed +the little one: taken it by its legs, and hit its head against a wall. Don’t +they do such things? Sh! Men have no souls! And thoughts came to me that filled +me with pity. I thought: they’ve thrown away the cradle and driven the wife +out, and her brave has taken his gun and come across to our side to rob us. One +watches and thinks. And when one hears a litter breaking through the thicket, +something begins to knock inside one. Dear one, come this way! ‘They’ll scent +me,’ one thinks; and one sits and does not stir while one’s heart goes dun! +dun! dun! and simply lifts you. Once this spring a fine litter came near me, I +saw something black. ‘In the name of the Father and of the Son,’ and I was just +about to fire when she grunts to her pigs: ‘Danger, children,’ she says, +‘there’s a man here,’ and off they all ran, breaking through the bushes. And +she had been so close I could almost have bitten her.” +</p> + +<p> +“How could a sow tell her brood that a man was there?” asked Olénin. +</p> + +<p> +“What do you think? You think the beast’s a fool? No, he is wiser than a man +though you do call him a pig! He knows everything. Take this for instance. A +man will pass along your track and not notice it; but a pig as soon as it gets +onto your track turns and runs at once: that shows there is wisdom in him, +since he scents your smell and you don’t. And there is this to be said too: you +wish to kill it and it wishes to go about the woods alive. You have one law and +it has another. It is a pig, but it is no worse than you—it too is God’s +creature. Ah, dear! Man is foolish, foolish, foolish!” The old man repeated +this several times and then, letting his head drop, he sat thinking. +</p> + +<p> +Olénin also became thoughtful, and descending from the porch with his hands +behind his back began pacing up and down the yard. +</p> + +<p> +Eróshka, rousing himself, raised his head and began gazing intently at the +moths circling round the flickering flame of the candle and burning themselves +in it. +</p> + +<p> +“Fool, fool!” he said. “Where are you flying to? Fool, fool!” He rose and with +his thick fingers began to drive away the moths. +</p> + +<p> +“You’ll burn, little fool! Fly this way, there’s plenty of room.” He spoke +tenderly, trying to catch them delicately by their wings with his thick fingers +and then letting them fly again. “You are killing yourself and I am sorry for +you!” +</p> + +<p> +He sat a long time chattering and sipping out of the bottle. Olénin paced up +and down the yard. Suddenly he was struck by the sound of whispering outside +the gate. Involuntarily holding his breath, he heard a woman’s laughter, a +man’s voice, and the sound of a kiss. Intentionally rustling the grass under +his feet he crossed to the opposite side of the yard, but after a while the +wattle fence creaked. A Cossack in a dark Circassian coat and a white sheepskin +cap passed along the other side of the fence (it was Luke), and a tall woman +with a white kerchief on her head went past Olénin. “You and I have nothing to +do with one another” was what Maryánka’s firm step gave him to understand. He +followed her with his eyes to the porch of the hut, and he even saw her through +the window take off her kerchief and sit down. And suddenly a feeling of lonely +depression and some vague longings and hopes, and envy of someone or other, +overcame the young man’s soul. +</p> + +<p> +The last lights had been put out in the huts. The last sounds had died away in +the village. The wattle fences and the cattle gleaming white in the yards, the +roofs of the houses and the stately poplars, all seemed to be sleeping the +labourers’ healthy peaceful sleep. Only the incessant ringing voices of frogs +from the damp distance reached the young man. In the east the stars were +growing fewer and fewer and seemed to be melting in the increasing light, but +overhead they were denser and deeper than before. The old man was dozing with +his head on his hand. A cock crowed in the yard opposite, but Olénin still +paced up and down thinking of something. The sound of a song sung by several +voices reached him and he stepped up to the fence and listened. The voices of +several young Cossacks carolled a merry song, and one voice was distinguishable +among them all by its firm strength. +</p> + +<p> +“Do you know who is singing there?” said the old man, rousing himself. “It is +the Brave, Lukáshka. He has killed a Chéchen and now he rejoices. And what is +there to rejoice at? ... The fool, the fool!” +</p> + +<p> +“And have you ever killed people?” asked Olénin. +</p> + +<p> +“You devil!” shouted the old man. “What are you asking? One must not talk so. +It is a serious thing to destroy a human being ... Ah, a very serious thing! +Good-bye, my dear fellow. I’ve eaten my fill and am drunk,” he said rising. +“Shall I come tomorrow to go shooting?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, come!” +</p> + +<p> +“Mind, get up early; if you oversleep you will be fined!” +</p> + +<p> +“Never fear, I’ll be up before you,” answered Olénin. +</p> + +<p> +The old man left. The song ceased, but one could hear footsteps and merry talk. +A little later the singing broke out again but farther away, and Eróshka’s loud +voice chimed in with the other. “What people, what a life!” thought Olénin with +a sigh as he returned alone to his hut. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap16"></a> Chapter XVI</h2> + +<p> +Daddy Eróshka was a superannuated and solitary Cossack: twenty years ago his +wife had gone over to the Orthodox Church and run away from him and married a +Russian sergeant-major, and he had no children. He was not bragging when he +spoke of himself as having been the boldest dare-devil in the village when he +was young. Everybody in the regiment knew of his old-time prowess. The death of +more than one Russian, as well as Chéchen, lay on his conscience. He used to go +plundering in the mountains, and robbed the Russians too; and he had twice been +in prison. The greater part of his life was spent in the forests, hunting. +There he lived for days on a crust of bread and drank nothing but water. But on +the other hand, when he was in the village he made merry from morning to night. +After leaving Olénin he slept for a couple of hours and awoke before it was +light. He lay on his bed thinking of the man he had become acquainted with the +evening before. Olénin’s “simplicity” (simplicity in the sense of not grudging +him a drink) pleased him very much, and so did Olénin himself. He wondered why +the Russians were all “simple” and so rich, and why they were educated, and yet +knew nothing. He pondered on these questions and also considered what he might +get out of Olénin. +</p> + +<p> +Daddy Eróshka’s hut was of a good size and not old, but the absence of a woman +was very noticeable in it. Contrary to the usual cleanliness of the Cossacks, +the whole of this hut was filthy and exceedingly untidy. A blood-stained coat +had been thrown on the table, half a dough-cake lay beside a plucked and +mangled crow with which to feed the hawk. Sandals of raw hide, a gun, a dagger, +a little bag, wet clothes, and sundry rags lay scattered on the benches. In a +corner stood a tub with stinking water, in which another pair of sandals were +being steeped, and near by was a gun and a hunting-screen. On the floor a net +had been thrown down and several dead pheasants lay there, while a hen tied by +its leg was walking about near the table pecking among the dirt. In the +unheated oven stood a broken pot with some kind of milky liquid. On the top of +the oven a falcon was screeching and trying to break the cord by which it was +tied, and a moulting hawk sat quietly on the edge of the oven, looking askance +at the hen and occasionally bowing its head to right and left. Daddy Eróshka +himself, in his shirt, lay on his back on a short bed rigged up between the +wall and the oven, with his strong legs raised and his feet on the oven. He was +picking with his thick fingers at the scratches left on his hands by the hawk, +which he was accustomed to carry without wearing gloves. The whole room, +especially near the old man, was filled with that strong but not unpleasant +mixture of smells that he always carried about with him. +</p> + +<p> +“<i>Uyde-ma</i>, Daddy?” (Is Daddy in?) came through the window in a sharp +voice, which he at once recognized as Lukáshka’s. +</p> + +<p> +“<i>Uyde, Uyde, Uyde</i>. I am in!” shouted the old man. “Come in, neighbour +Mark, Luke Mark. Come to see Daddy? On your way to the cordon?” +</p> + +<p> +At the sound of his master’s shout the hawk flapped his wings and pulled at his +cord. +</p> + +<p> +The old man was fond of Lukáshka, who was the only man he excepted from his +general contempt for the younger generation of Cossacks. Besides that, Lukáshka +and his mother, as near neighbours, often gave the old man wine, clotted cream, +and other home produce which Eróshka did not possess. Daddy Eróshka, who all +his life had allowed himself to get carried away, always explained his +infatuations from a practical point of view. “Well, why not?” he used to say to +himself. “I’ll give them some fresh meat, or a bird, and they won’t forget +Daddy: they’ll sometimes bring a cake or a piece of pie.” +</p> + +<p> +“Good morning, Mark! I am glad to see you,” shouted the old man cheerfully, and +quickly putting down his bare feet he jumped off his bed and walked a step or +two along the creaking floor, looked down at his out-turned toes, and suddenly, +amused by the appearance of his feet, smiled, stamped with his bare heel on the +ground, stamped again, and then performed a funny dance-step. “That’s clever, +eh?” he asked, his small eyes glistening. Lukáshka smiled faintly. “Going back +to the cordon?” asked the old man. +</p> + +<p> +“I have brought the <i>chikhir</i> I promised you when we were at the cordon.” +</p> + +<p> +“May Christ save you!” said the old man, and he took up the extremely wide +trousers that were lying on the floor, and his <i>beshmet</i>, put them on, +fastened a strap round his waist, poured some water from an earthenware pot +over his hands, wiped them on the old trousers, smoothed his beard with a bit +of comb, and stopped in front of Lukáshka. “Ready,” he said. +</p> + +<p> +Lukáshka fetched a cup, wiped it and filled it with wine, and then handed it to +the old man. +</p> + +<p> +“Your health! To the Father and the Son!” said the old man, accepting the wine +with solemnity. “May you have what you desire, may you always be a hero, and +obtain a cross.” +</p> + +<p> +Lukáshka also drank a little after repeating a prayer, and then put the wine on +the table. The old man rose and brought out some dried fish which he laid on +the threshold, where he beat it with a stick to make it tender; then, having +put it with his horny hands on a blue plate (his only one), he placed it on the +table. +</p> + +<p> +“I have all I want. I have victuals, thank God!” he said proudly. “Well, and +what of Mósev?” he added. +</p> + +<p> +Lukáshka, evidently wishing to know the old man’s opinion, told him how the +officer had taken the gun from him. +</p> + +<p> +“Never mind the gun,” said the old man. “If you don’t give the gun you will get +no reward.” +</p> + +<p> +“But they say, Daddy, it’s little reward a fellow gets when he is not yet a +mounted Cossack; and the gun is a fine one, a Crimean, worth eighty rubles.” +</p> + +<p> +“Eh, let it go! I had a dispute like that with an officer, he wanted my horse. +‘Give it me and you’ll be made a cornet,’ says he. I wouldn’t, and I got +nothing!” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, Daddy, but you see I have to buy a horse; and they say you can’t get one +the other side of the river under fifty rubles, and mother has not yet sold our +wine.” +</p> + +<p> +“Eh, we didn’t bother,” said the old man; “when Daddy Eróshka was your age he +already stole herds of horses from the Nogáy folk and drove them across the +Térek. Sometimes we’d give a fine horse for a quart of vodka or a cloak.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why so cheap?” asked Lukáshka. +</p> + +<p> +“You’re a fool, a fool, Mark,” said the old man contemptuously. “Why, that’s +what one steals for, so as not to be stingy! As for you, I suppose you haven’t +so much as seen how one drives off a herd of horses? Why don’t you speak?” +</p> + +<p> +“What’s one to say, Daddy?” replied Lukáshka. “It seems we are not the same +sort of men as you were.” +</p> + +<p> +“You’re a fool, Mark, a fool! ‘Not the same sort of men!’” retorted the old +man, mimicking the Cossack lad. “I was not that sort of Cossack at your age.” +</p> + +<p> +“How’s that?” asked Lukáshka. +</p> + +<p> +The old man shook his head contemptuously. +</p> + +<p> +“Daddy Eróshka was <i>simple;</i> he did not grudge anything! That’s why I was +<i>kunak</i> with all Chéchnya. A <i>kunak</i> would come to visit me and I’d +make him drunk with vodka and make him happy and put him to sleep with me, and +when I went to see him I’d take him a present—a dagger! That’s the way it is +done, and not as you do nowadays: the only amusement lads have now is to crack +seeds and spit out the shells!” the old man finished contemptuously, imitating +the present-day Cossacks cracking seeds and spitting out the shells. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, I know,” said Lukáshka; “that’s so!” +</p> + +<p> +“If you wish to be a fellow of the right sort, be a brave and not a peasant! +Because even a peasant can buy a horse—pay the money and take the horse.” +</p> + +<p> +They were silent for a while. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, of course it’s dull both in the village and the cordon, Daddy: but +there’s nowhere one can go for a bit of sport. All our fellows are so timid. +Take Nazárka. The other day when we went to the Tartar village, Giréy Khan +asked us to come to Nogáy to take some horses, but no one went, and how was I +to go alone?” +</p> + +<p> +“And what of Daddy? Do you think I am quite dried up? ... No, I’m not dried up. +Let me have a horse and I’ll be off to Nogáy at once.” +</p> + +<p> +“What’s the good of talking nonsense!” said Luke. “You’d better tell me what to +do about Giréy Khan. He says, ‘Only bring horses to the Térek, and then even if +you bring a whole stud I’ll find a place for them.’ You see he’s also a +shaven-headed Tartar—how’s one to believe him?” +</p> + +<p> +“You may trust Giréy Khan, all his kin were good people. His father too was a +faithful <i>kunak</i>. But listen to Daddy and I won’t teach you wrong: make +him take an oath, then it will be all right. And if you go with him, have your +pistol ready all the same, especially when it comes to dividing up the horses. +I was nearly killed that way once by a Chéchen. I wanted ten rubles from him +for a horse. Trusting is all right, but don’t go to sleep without a gun.” +Lukáshka listened attentively to the old man. +</p> + +<p> +“I say, Daddy, have you any stone-break grass?” he asked after a pause. +</p> + +<p> +“No, I haven’t any, but I’ll teach you how to get it. You’re a good lad and +won’t forget the old man.... Shall I tell you?” +</p> + +<p> +“Tell me, Daddy.” +</p> + +<p> +“You know a tortoise? She’s a devil, the tortoise is!” +</p> + +<p> +“Of course I know!” +</p> + +<p> +“Find her nest and fence it round so that she can’t get in. Well, she’ll come, +go round it, and then will go off to find the stone-break grass and will bring +some along and destroy the fence. Anyhow next morning come in good time, and +where the fence is broken there you’ll find the stone-break grass lying. Take +it wherever you like. No lock and no bar will be able to stop you.” +</p> + +<p> +“Have you tried it yourself, Daddy?” +</p> + +<p> +“As for trying, I have not tried it, but I was told of it by good people. I +used only one charm: that was to repeat the Pilgrim rhyme when mounting my +horse; and no one ever killed me!” +</p> + +<p> +“What is the Pilgrim rhyme, Daddy?” +</p> + +<p> +“What, don’t you know it? Oh, what people! You’re right to ask Daddy. Well, +listen, and repeat after me: +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +“Hail! Ye, living in Sion,<br/> +This is your King,<br/> +Our steeds we shall sit on,<br/> +Sophonius is weeping.<br/> +Zacharias is speaking,<br/> +Father Pilgrim,<br/> +Mankind ever loving.” +</p> + +<p> +“Kind ever loving,” the old man repeated. “Do you know it now? Try it.” +</p> + +<p> +Lukáshka laughed. +</p> + +<p> +“Come, Daddy, was it that that hindered their killing you? Maybe it just +happened so!” +</p> + +<p> +“You’ve grown too clever! You learn it all, and say it. It will do you no harm. +Well, suppose you have sung ‘Pilgrim’, it’s all right,” and the old man himself +began laughing. “But just one thing, Luke, don’t you go to Nogáy!” +</p> + +<p> +“Why?” +</p> + +<p> +“Times have changed. You are not the same men. You’ve become rubbishy Cossacks! +And see how many Russians have come down on us! You’d get to prison. Really, +give it up! Just as if you could! Now Gírchik and I, we used...” +</p> + +<p> +And the old man was about to begin one of his endless tales, but Lukáshka +glanced at the window and interrupted him. +</p> + +<p> +“It is quite light. Daddy. It’s time to be off. Look us up some day.” +</p> + +<p> +“May Christ save you! I’ll go to the officer; I promised to take him out +shooting. He seems a good fellow.” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap17"></a> Chapter XVII</h2> + +<p> +From Eróshka’s hut Lukáshka went home. As he returned, the dewy mists were +rising from the ground and enveloped the village. In various places the cattle, +though out of sight, could be heard beginning to stir. The cocks called to one +another with increasing frequency and insistence. The air was becoming more +transparent, and the villagers were getting up. Not till he was close to it +could Lukáshka discern the fence of his yard, all wet with dew, the porch of +the hut, and the open shed. From the misty yard he heard the sound of an axe +chopping wood. Lukáshka entered the hut. His mother was up, and stood at the +oven throwing wood into it. His little sister was still lying in bed asleep. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, Lukáshka, had enough holiday-making?” asked his mother softly. “Where +did you spend the night?” +</p> + +<p> +“I was in the village,” replied her son reluctantly, reaching for his musket, +which he drew from its cover and examined carefully. +</p> + +<p> +His mother swayed her head. +</p> + +<p> +Lukáshka poured a little gunpowder onto the pan, took out a little bag from +which he drew some empty cartridge cases which he began filling, carefully +plugging each one with a ball wrapped in a rag. Then, having tested the loaded +cartridges with his teeth and examined them, he put down the bag. +</p> + +<p> +“I say, Mother, I told you the bags wanted mending; have they been done?” he +asked. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh yes, our dumb girl was mending something last night. Why, is it time for +you to be going back to the cordon? I haven’t seen anything of you!” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, as soon as I have got ready I shall have to go,” answered Lukáshka, tying +up the gunpowder. “And where is our dumb one? Outside?” +</p> + +<p> +“Chopping wood, I expect. She kept fretting for you. ‘I shall not see him at +all!’ she said. She puts her hand to her face like this, and clicks her tongue +and presses her hands to her heart as much as to say—‘sorry.’ Shall I call her +in? She understood all about the <i>abrek</i>.” +</p> + +<p> +“Call her,” said Lukáshka. “And I had some tallow there; bring it: I must +grease my sword.” +</p> + +<p> +The old woman went out, and a few minutes later Lukáshka’s dumb sister came up +the creaking steps and entered the hut. She was six years older than her +brother and would have been extremely like him had it not been for the dull and +coarsely changeable expression (common to all deaf and dumb people) of her +face. She wore a coarse smock all patched; her feet were bare and muddy, and on +her head she had an old blue kerchief. Her neck, arms, and face were sinewy +like a peasant’s. Her clothing and her whole appearance indicated that she +always did the hard work of a man. She brought in a heap of logs which she +threw down by the oven. Then she went up to her brother, and with a joyful +smile which made her whole face pucker up, touched him on the shoulder and +began making rapid signs to him with her hands, her face, and whole body. +</p> + +<p> +“That’s right, that’s right, Stëpka is a trump!” answered the brother, nodding. +“She’s fetched everything and mended everything, she’s a trump! Here, take this +for it!” He brought out two pieces of gingerbread from his pocket and gave them +to her. +</p> + +<p> +The dumb woman’s face flushed with pleasure, and she began making a weird noise +for joy. Having seized the gingerbread she began to gesticulate still more +rapidly, frequently pointing in one direction and passing her thick finger over +her eyebrows and her face. Lukáshka understood her and kept nodding, while he +smiled slightly. She was telling him to give the girls dainties, and that the +girls liked him, and that one girl, Maryánka—the best of them all—loved him. +She indicated Maryánka by rapidly pointing in the direction of Maryánka’s home +and to her own eyebrows and face, and by smacking her lips and swaying her +head. “Loves” she expressed by pressing her hands to her breast, kissing her +hand, and pretending to embrace someone. Their mother returned to the hut, and +seeing what her dumb daughter was saying, smiled and shook her head. Her +daughter showed her the gingerbread and again made the noise which expressed +joy. +</p> + +<p> +“I told Ulítka the other day that I’d send a matchmaker to them,” said the +mother. “She took my words well.” +</p> + +<p> +Lukáshka looked silently at his mother. +</p> + +<p> +“But how about selling the wine, mother? I need a horse.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’ll cart it when I have time. I must get the barrels ready,” said the mother, +evidently not wishing her son to meddle in domestic matters. “When you go out +you’ll find a bag in the passage. I borrowed from the neighbours and got +something for you to take back to the cordon; or shall I put it in your +saddle-bag?” +</p> + +<p> +“All right,” answered Lukáshka. “And if Giréy Khan should come across the river +send him to me at the cordon, for I shan’t get leave again for a long time now; +I have some business with him.” +</p> + +<p> +He began to get ready to start. +</p> + +<p> +“I will send him on,” said the old woman. “It seems you have been spreeing at +Yámka’s all the time. I went out in the night to see the cattle, and I think it +was your voice I heard singing songs.” +</p> + +<p> +Lukáshka did not reply, but went out into the passage, threw the bags over his +shoulder, tucked up the skirts of his coat, took his musket, and then stopped +for a moment on the threshold. +</p> + +<p> +“Good-bye, mother!” he said as he closed the gate behind him. “Send me a small +barrel with Nazárka. I promised it to the lads, and he’ll call for it.” +</p> + +<p> +“May Christ keep you, Lukáshka. God be with you! I’ll send you some, some from +the new barrel,” said the old woman, going to the fence: “But listen,” she +added, leaning over the fence. +</p> + +<p> +The Cossack stopped. +</p> + +<p> +“You’ve been making merry here; well, that’s all right. Why should not a young +man amuse himself? God has sent you luck and that’s good. But now look out and +mind, my son. Don’t you go and get into mischief. Above all, satisfy your +superiors: one has to! And I will sell the wine and find money for a horse and +will arrange a match with the girl for you.” +</p> + +<p> +“All right, all right!” answered her son, frowning. +</p> + +<p> +His deaf sister shouted to attract his attention. She pointed to her head and +the palm of her hand, to indicate the shaved head of a Chéchen. Then she +frowned, and pretending to aim with a gun, she shrieked and began rapidly +humming and shaking her head. This meant that Lukáshka should kill another +Chéchen. +</p> + +<p> +Lukáshka understood. He smiled, and shifting the gun at his back under his +cloak stepped lightly and rapidly, and soon disappeared in the thick mist. +</p> + +<p> +The old woman, having stood a little while at the gate, returned silently to +the hut and immediately began working. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap18"></a> Chapter XVIII</h2> + +<p> +Lukasha returned to the cordon and at the same time Daddy Eróshka whistled to +his dogs and, climbing over his wattle fence, went to Olénin’s lodging, passing +by the back of the houses (he disliked meeting women before going out hunting +or shooting). He found Olénin still asleep, and even Vanyúsha, though awake, +was still in bed and looking round the room considering whether it was not time +to get up, when Daddy Eróshka, gun on shoulder and in full hunter’s trappings, +opened the door. +</p> + +<p> +“A cudgel!” he shouted in his deep voice. “An alarm! The Chéchens are upon us! +Iván! Get the samovar ready for your master, and get up yourself—quick,” cried +the old man. “That’s our way, my good man! Why even the girls are already up! +Look out of the window. See, she’s going for water and you’re still sleeping!” +</p> + +<p> +Olénin awoke and jumped up, feeling fresh and lighthearted at the sight of the +old man and at the sound of his voice. +</p> + +<p> +“Quick, Vanyúsha, quick!” he cried. +</p> + +<p> +“Is that the way you go hunting?” said the old man. “Others are having their +breakfast and you are asleep! Lyam! Here!” he called to his dog. “Is your gun +ready?” he shouted, as loud as if a whole crowd were in the hut. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, it’s true I’m guilty, but it can’t be helped! The powder, Vanyúsha, and +the wads!” said Olénin. +</p> + +<p> +“A fine!” shouted the old man. +</p> + +<p> +“<i>Du tay voulay vou?</i>” asked Vanyúsha, grinning. +</p> + +<p> +“You’re not one of us—your gabble is not like our speech, you devil!” the old +man shouted at Vanyúsha, showing the stumps of his teeth. +</p> + +<p> +“A first offence must be forgiven,” said Olénin playfully, drawing on his high +boots. +</p> + +<p> +“The first offence shall be forgiven,” answered Eróshka, “but if you oversleep +another time you’ll be fined a pail of <i>chikhir</i>. When it gets warmer you +won’t find the deer.” +</p> + +<p> +“And even if we do find him he is wiser than we are,” said Olénin, repeating +the words spoken by the old man the evening before, “and you can’t deceive +him!” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, laugh away! You kill one first, and then you may talk. Now then, hurry +up! Look, there’s the master himself coming to see you,” added Eróshka, looking +out of the window. “Just see how he’s got himself up. He’s put on a new coat so +that you should see that he’s an officer. Ah, these people, these people!” +</p> + +<p> +Sure enough Vanyúsha came in and announced that the master of the house wished +to see Olénin. +</p> + +<p> +“<i>L’arjan!</i>” he remarked profoundly, to forewarn his master of the meaning +of this visitation. Following him, the master of the house in a new Circassian +coat with an officer’s stripes on the shoulders and with polished boots (quite +exceptional among Cossacks) entered the room, swaying from side to side, and +congratulated his lodger on his safe arrival. +</p> + +<p> +The cornet, Elias Vasílich, was an <i>educated</i> Cossack. He had been to +Russia proper, was a regimental schoolteacher, and above all he was noble. He +wished to appear noble, but one could not help feeling beneath his grotesque +pretence of polish, his affectation, his self-confidence, and his absurd way of +speaking, he was just the same as Daddy Eróshka. This could also be clearly +seen by his sunburnt face and his hands and his red nose. Olénin asked him to +sit down. +</p> + +<p> +“Good morning, Father Elias Vasílich,” said Eróshka, rising with (or so it +seemed to Olénin) an ironically low bow. +</p> + +<p> +“Good morning. Daddy. So you’re here already,” said the cornet, with a careless +nod. +</p> + +<p> +The cornet was a man of about forty, with a grey pointed beard, skinny and +lean, but handsome and very fresh-looking for his age. Having come to see +Olénin he was evidently afraid of being taken for an ordinary Cossack, and +wanted to let Olénin feel his importance from the first. +</p> + +<p> +“That’s our Egyptian Nimrod,” he remarked, addressing Olénin and pointing to +the old man with a self-satisfied smile. “A mighty hunter before the Lord! He’s +our foremost man on every hand. You’ve already been pleased to get acquainted +with him.” +</p> + +<p> +Daddy Eróshka gazed at his feet in their shoes of wet raw hide and shook his +head thoughtfully at the cornet’s ability and learning, and muttered to +himself: “Gyptian Nimvrod! What things he invents!” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, you see we mean to go hunting,” answered Olénin. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, sir, exactly,” said the cornet, “but I have a small business with you.” +</p> + +<p> +“What do you want?” +</p> + +<p> +“Seeing that you are a gentleman,” began the cornet, “and as I may understand +myself to be in the rank of an officer too, and therefore we may always +progressively negotiate, as gentlemen do.” (He stopped and looked with a smile +at Olénin and at the old man.) “But if you have the desire with my consent, +then, as my wife is a foolish woman of our class, she could not quite +comprehend your words of yesterday’s date. Therefore my quarters might be let +for six rubles to the Regimental Adjutant, without the stables; but I can +always avert that from myself free of charge. But, as you desire, therefore I, +being myself of an officer’s rank, can come to an agreement with you in +everything personally, as an inhabitant of this district, not according to our +customs, but can maintain the conditions in every way....” +</p> + +<p> +“Speaks clearly!” muttered the old man. +</p> + +<p> +The cornet continued in the same strain for a long time. At last, not without +difficulty, Olénin gathered that the cornet wished to let his rooms to him, +Olénin, for six rubles a month. The latter gladly agreed to this, and offered +his visitor a glass of tea. The cornet declined it. +</p> + +<p> +“According to our silly custom we consider it a sort of sin to drink out of a +‘worldly’ tumbler,” he said. “Though, of course, with my education I may +understand, but my wife from her human weakness...” +</p> + +<p> +“Well then, will you have some tea?” +</p> + +<p> +“If you will permit me, I will bring my own particular glass,” answered the +cornet, and stepped out into the porch. +</p> + +<p> +“Bring me my glass!” he cried. +</p> + +<p> +In a few minutes the door opened and a young sunburnt arm in a print sleeve +thrust itself in, holding a tumbler in the hand. The cornet went up, took it, +and whispered something to his daughter. Olénin poured tea for the cornet into +the latter’s own “particular” glass, and for Eróshka into a “worldly” glass. +</p> + +<p> +“However, I do not desire to detain you,” said the cornet, scalding his lips +and emptying his tumbler. “I too have a great liking for fishing, and I am +here, so to say, only on leave of absence for recreation from my duties. I too +have the desire to tempt fortune and see whether some <i>Gifts of the Térek</i> +may not fall to my share. I hope you too will come and see us and have a drink +of our wine, according to the custom of our village,” he added. +</p> + +<p> +The cornet bowed, shook hands with Olénin, and went out. While Olénin was +getting ready, he heard the cornet giving orders to his family in an +authoritative and sensible tone, and a few minutes later he saw him pass by the +window in a tattered coat with his trousers rolled up to his knees and a +fishing net over his shoulder. +</p> + +<p> +“A rascal!” said Daddy Eróshka, emptying his “worldly” tumbler. “And will you +really pay him six rubles? Was such a thing ever heard of? They would let you +the best hut in the village for two rubles. What a beast! Why, I’d let you have +mine for three!” +</p> + +<p> +“No, I’ll remain here,” said Olénin. +</p> + +<p> +“Six rubles!... Clearly it’s a fool’s money. Eh, eh, eh!” answered the old man. +“Let’s have some <i>chikhir</i>, Iván!” +</p> + +<p> +Having had a snack and a drink of vodka to prepare themselves for the road, +Olénin and the old man went out together before eight o’clock. +</p> + +<p> +At the gate they came up against a wagon to which a pair of oxen were +harnessed. With a white kerchief tied round her head down to her eyes, a coat +over her smock, and wearing high boots, Maryánka with a long switch in her hand +was dragging the oxen by a cord tied to their horns. +</p> + +<p> +“Mammy,” said the old man, pretending that he was going to seize her. +</p> + +<p> +Maryánka flourished her switch at him and glanced merrily at them both with her +beautiful eyes. +</p> + +<p> +Olénin felt still more light-hearted. +</p> + +<p> +“Now then, come on, come on,” he said, throwing his gun on his shoulder and +conscious of the girl’s eyes upon him. +</p> + +<p> +“Gee up!” sounded Maryánka’s voice behind them, followed by the creak of the +moving wagon. +</p> + +<p> +As long as their road lay through the pastures at the back of the village +Eróshka went on talking. He could not forget the cornet and kept on abusing +him. +</p> + +<p> +“Why are you so angry with him?” asked Olénin. +</p> + +<p> +“He’s stingy. I don’t like it,” answered the old man. “He’ll leave it all +behind when he dies! Then who’s he saving up for? He’s built two houses, and +he’s got a second garden from his brother by a law-suit. And in the matter of +papers what a dog he is! They come to him from other villages to fill up +documents. As he writes it out, exactly so it happens. He gets it quite exact. +But who is he saving for? He’s only got one boy and the girl; when she’s +married who’ll be left?” +</p> + +<p> +“Well then, he’s saving up for her dowry,” said Olénin. +</p> + +<p> +“What dowry? The girl is sought after, she’s a fine girl. But he’s such a devil +that he must yet marry her to a rich fellow. He wants to get a big price for +her. There’s Luke, a Cossack, a neighbour and a nephew of mine, a fine lad. +It’s he who killed the Chéchen—he has been wooing her for a long time, but he +hasn’t let him have her. He’s given one excuse, and another, and a third. ‘The +girl’s too young,’ he says. But I know what he is thinking. He wants to keep +them bowing to him. He’s been acting shamefully about that girl. Still, they +will get her for Lukáshka, because he is the best Cossack in the village, a +brave, who has killed an <i>abrek</i> and will be rewarded with a cross.” +</p> + +<p> +“But how about this? When I was walking up and down the yard last night, I saw +my landlord’s daughter and some Cossack kissing,” said Olénin. +</p> + +<p> +“You’re pretending!” cried the old man, stopping. +</p> + +<p> +“On my word,” said Olénin. +</p> + +<p> +“Women are the devil,” said Eróshka pondering. “But what Cossack was it?” +</p> + +<p> +“I couldn’t see.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, what sort of a cap had he, a white one?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes.” +</p> + +<p> +“And a red coat? About your height?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, a bit taller.” +</p> + +<p> +“It’s he!” and Eróshka burst out laughing. “It’s himself, it’s Mark. He is +Luke, but I call him Mark for a joke. His very self! I love him. I was just +such a one myself. What’s the good of minding them? My sweetheart used to sleep +with her mother and her sister-in-law, but I managed to get in. She used to +sleep upstairs; that witch her mother was a regular demon; it’s awful how she +hated me. Well, I used to come with a chum, Gírchik his name was. We’d come +under her window and I’d climb on his shoulders, push up the window and begin +groping about. She used to sleep just there on a bench. Once I woke her up and +she nearly called out. She hadn’t recognized me. ‘Who is there?’ she said, and +I could not answer. Her mother was even beginning to stir, but I took off my +cap and shoved it over her mouth; and she at once knew it by a seam in it, and +ran out to me. I used not to want anything then. She’d bring along clotted +cream and grapes and everything,” added Eróshka (who always explained things +practically), “and she wasn’t the only one. It was a life!” +</p> + +<p> +“And what now?” +</p> + +<p> +“Now we’ll follow the dog, get a pheasant to settle on a tree, and then you may +fire.” +</p> + +<p> +“Would you have made up to Maryánka?” +</p> + +<p> +“Attend to the dogs. I’ll tell you tonight,” said the old man, pointing to his +favourite dog, Lyam. +</p> + +<p> +After a pause they continued talking, while they went about a hundred paces. +Then the old man stopped again and pointed to a twig that lay across the path. +</p> + +<p> +“What do you think of that?” he said. “You think it’s nothing? It’s bad that +this stick is lying so.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why is it bad?” +</p> + +<p> +He smiled. +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, you don’t know anything. Just listen to me. When a stick lies like that +don’t you step across it, but go round it or throw it off the path this way, +and say ‘Father and Son and Holy Ghost,’ and then go on with God’s blessing. +Nothing will happen to you. That’s what the old men used to teach me.” +</p> + +<p> +“Come, what rubbish!” said Olénin. “You’d better tell me more about Maryánka. +Does she carry on with Lukáshka?” +</p> + +<p> +“Hush ... be quiet now!” the old man again interrupted in a whisper: “just +listen, we’ll go round through the forest.” +</p> + +<p> +And the old man, stepping quietly in his soft shoes, led the way by a narrow +path leading into the dense, wild, overgrown forest. Now and again with a frown +he turned to look at Olénin, who rustled and clattered with his heavy boots +and, carrying his gun carelessly, several times caught the twigs of trees that +grew across the path. +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t make a noise. Step softly, soldier!” the old man whispered angrily. +</p> + +<p> +There was a feeling in the air that the sun had risen. The mist was dissolving +but it still enveloped the tops of the trees. The forest looked terribly high. +At every step the aspect changed: what had appeared like a tree proved to be a +bush, and a reed looked like a tree. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap19"></a> Chapter XIX</h2> + +<p> +The mist had partly lifted, showing the wet reed thatches, and was now turning +into dew that moistened the road and the grass beside the fence. Smoke rose +everywhere in clouds from the chimneys. The people were going out of the +village, some to their work, some to the river, and some to the cordon. The +hunters walked together along the damp, grass-grown path. The dogs, wagging +their tails and looking at their masters, ran on both sides of them. Myriads of +gnats hovered in the air and pursued the hunters, covering their backs, eyes, +and hands. The air was fragrant with the grass and with the dampness of the +forest. Olénin continually looked round at the ox-cart in which Maryánka sat +urging on the oxen with a long switch. +</p> + +<p> +It was calm. The sounds from the village, audible at first, now no longer +reached the sportsmen. Only the brambles cracked as the dogs ran under them, +and now and then birds called to one another. Olénin knew that danger lurked in +the forest, that <i>abreks</i> always hid in such places. But he knew too that +in the forest, for a man on foot, a gun is a great protection. Not that he was +afraid, but he felt that another in his place might be; and looking into the +damp misty forest and listening to the rare and faint sounds with strained +attention, he changed his hold on his gun and experienced a pleasant feeling +that was new to him. Daddy Eróshka went in front, stopping and carefully +scanning every puddle where an animal had left a double track, and pointing it +out to Olénin. He hardly spoke at all and only occasionally made remarks in a +whisper. The track they were following had once been made by wagons, but the +grass had long overgrown it. The elm and plane-tree forest on both sides of +them was so dense and overgrown with creepers that it was impossible to see +anything through it. Nearly every tree was enveloped from top to bottom with +wild grape vines, and dark bramble bushes covered the ground thickly. Every +little glade was overgrown with blackberry bushes and grey feathery reeds. In +places, large hoof-prints and small funnel-shaped pheasant-trails led from the +path into the thicket. The vigour of the growth of this forest, untrampled by +cattle, struck Olénin at every turn, for he had never seen anything like it. +This forest, the danger, the old man and his mysterious whispering, Maryánka +with her virile upright bearing, and the mountains—all this seemed to him like +a dream. +</p> + +<p> +“A pheasant has settled,” whispered the old man, looking round and pulling his +cap over his face—“Cover your mug! A pheasant!” he waved his arm angrily at +Olénin and pushed forward almost on all fours. “He don’t like a man’s mug.” +</p> + +<p> +Olénin was still behind him when the old man stopped and began examining a +tree. A cock-pheasant on the tree clucked at the dog that was barking at it, +and Olénin saw the pheasant; but at that moment a report, as of a cannon, came +from Eróshka’s enormous gun, the bird fluttered up and, losing some feathers, +fell to the ground. Coming up to the old man Olénin disturbed another, and +raising his gun he aimed and fired. The pheasant flew swiftly up and then, +catching at the branches as he fell, dropped like a stone to the ground. +</p> + +<p> +“Good man!” the old man (who could not hit a flying bird) shouted, laughing. +</p> + +<p> +Having picked up the pheasants they went on. Olénin, excited by the exercise +and the praise, kept addressing remarks to the old man. +</p> + +<p> +“Stop! Come this way,” the old man interrupted. “I noticed the track of deer +here yesterday.” +</p> + +<p> +After they had turned into the thicket and gone some three hundred paces they +scrambled through into a glade overgrown with reeds and partly under water. +Olénin failed to keep up with the old huntsman and presently Daddy Eróshka, +some twenty paces in front, stooped down, nodding and beckoning with his arm. +On coming up with him Olénin saw a man’s footprint to which the old man was +pointing. +</p> + +<p> +“D’you see?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, well?” said Olénin, trying to speak as calmly as he could. “A man’s +footstep!” +</p> + +<p> +Involuntarily a thought of Cooper’s <i>Pathfinder</i> and of <i>abreks</i> +flashed through Olénin’s mind, but noticing the mysterious manner with which +the old man moved on, he hesitated to question him and remained in doubt +whether this mysteriousness was caused by fear of danger or by the sport. +</p> + +<p> +“No, it’s my own footprint,” the old man said quietly, and pointed to some +grass under which the track of an animal was just perceptible. +</p> + +<p> +The old man went on, and Olénin kept up with him. Descending to lower ground +some twenty paces farther on they came upon a spreading pear-tree, under which, +on the black earth, lay the fresh dung of some animal. +</p> + +<p> +The spot, all covered over with wild vines, was like a cosy arbour, dark and +cool. +</p> + +<p> +“He’s been here this morning,” said the old man with a sigh; “the lair is still +damp, quite fresh.” +</p> + +<p> +Suddenly they heard a terrible crash in the forest some ten paces from where +they stood. They both started and seized their guns, but they could see nothing +and only heard the branches breaking. The rhythmical rapid thud of galloping +was heard for a moment and then changed into a hollow rumble which resounded +farther and farther off, re-echoing in wider and wider circles through the +forest. Olénin felt as though something had snapped in his heart. He peered +carefully but vainly into the green thicket and then turned to the old man. +Daddy Eróshka with his gun pressed to his breast stood motionless; his cap was +thrust backwards, his eyes gleamed with an unwonted glow, and his open mouth, +with its worn yellow teeth, seemed to have stiffened in that position. +</p> + +<p> +“A horned stag!” he muttered, and throwing down his gun in despair he began +pulling at his grey beard, “Here it stood. We should have come round by the +path.... Fool! fool!” and he gave his beard an angry tug. “Fool! Pig!” he +repeated, pulling painfully at his own beard. Through the forest something +seemed to fly away in the mist, and ever farther and farther off was heard the +sound of the flight of the stag. +</p> + +<p> +It was already dusk when, hungry, tired, but full of vigour, Olénin returned +with the old man. Dinner was ready. He ate and drank with the old man till he +felt warm and merry. Olénin then went out into the porch. Again, to the west, +the mountains rose before his eyes. Again the old man told his endless stories +of hunting, of <i>abreks</i>, of sweethearts, and of all that free and reckless +life. Again the fair Maryánka went in and out and across the yard, her +beautiful powerful form outlined by her smock. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap20"></a> Chapter XX</h2> + +<p> +The next day Olénin went alone to the spot where he and the old man startled +the stag. Instead of passing round through the gate he climbed over the prickly +hedge, as everybody else did, and before he had had time to pull out the thorns +that had caught in his coat, his dog, which had run on in front, started two +pheasants. He had hardly stepped among the briers when the pheasants began to +rise at every step (the old man had not shown him that place the day before as +he meant to keep it for shooting from behind the screen). Olénin fired twelve +times and killed five pheasants, but clambering after them through the briers +he got so fatigued that he was drenched with perspiration. He called off his +dog, uncocked his gun, put in a bullet above the small shot, and brushing away +the mosquitoes with the wide sleeve of his Circassian coat he went slowly to +the spot where they had been the day before. It was however impossible to keep +back the dog, who found trails on the very path, and Olénin killed two more +pheasants, so that after being detained by this it was getting towards noon +before he began to find the place he was looking for. +</p> + +<p> +The day was perfectly clear, calm, and hot. The morning moisture had dried up +even in the forest, and myriads of mosquitoes literally covered his face, his +back, and his arms. His dog had turned from black to grey, its back being +covered with mosquitoes, and so had Olénin’s coat through which the insects +thrust their stings. Olénin was ready to run away from them and it seemed to +him that it was impossible to live in this country in the summer. He was about +to go home, but remembering that other people managed to endure such pain he +resolved to bear it and gave himself up to be devoured. And strange to say, by +noontime the feeling became actually pleasant. He even felt that without this +mosquito-filled atmosphere around him, and that mosquito-paste mingled with +perspiration which his hand smeared over his face, and that unceasing +irritation all over his body, the forest would lose for him some of its +character and charm. These myriads of insects were so well suited to that +monstrously lavish wild vegetation, these multitudes of birds and beasts which +filled the forest, this dark foliage, this hot scented air, these runlets +filled with turbid water which everywhere soaked through from the Térek and +gurgled here and there under the overhanging leaves, that the very thing which +had at first seemed to him dreadful and intolerable now seemed pleasant. After +going round the place where yesterday they had found the animal and not finding +anything, he felt inclined to rest. The sun stood right above the forest and +poured its perpendicular rays down on his back and head whenever he came out +into a glade or onto the road. The seven heavy pheasants dragged painfully at +his waist. Having found the traces of yesterday’s stag he crept under a bush +into the thicket just where the stag had lain, and lay down in its lair. He +examined the dark foliage around him, the place marked by the stag’s +perspiration and yesterday’s dung, the imprint of the stag’s knees, the bit of +black earth it had kicked up, and his own footprints of the day before. He felt +cool and comfortable and did not think of or wish for anything. And suddenly he +was overcome by such a strange feeling of causeless joy and of love for +everything, that from an old habit of his childhood he began crossing himself +and thanking someone. Suddenly, with extraordinary clearness, he thought: “Here +am I, Dmítri Olénin, a being quite distinct from every other being, now lying +all alone Heaven only knows where—where a stag used to live—an old stag, a +beautiful stag who perhaps had never seen a man, and in a place where no human +being has ever sat or thought these thoughts. Here I sit, and around me stand +old and young trees, one of them festooned with wild grape vines, and pheasants +are fluttering, driving one another about and perhaps scenting their murdered +brothers.” He felt his pheasants, examined them, and wiped the warm blood off +his hand onto his coat. “Perhaps the jackals scent them and with dissatisfied +faces go off in another direction: above me, flying in among the leaves which +to them seem enormous islands, mosquitoes hang in the air and buzz: one, two, +three, four, a hundred, a thousand, a million mosquitoes, and all of them buzz +something or other and each one of them is separate from all else and is just +such a separate Dmítri Olénin as I am myself.” He vividly imagined what the +mosquitoes buzzed: “This way, this way, lads! Here’s some one we can eat!” They +buzzed and stuck to him. And it was clear to him that he was not a Russian +nobleman, a member of Moscow society, the friend and relation of so-and-so and +so-and-so, but just such a mosquito, or pheasant, or deer, as those that were +now living all around him. “Just as they, just as Daddy Eróshka, I shall live +awhile and die, and as he says truly: ‘grass will grow and nothing more’.” +</p> + +<p> +“But what though the grass does grow?” he continued thinking. “Still I must +live and be happy, because happiness is all I desire. Never mind what I am—an +animal like all the rest, above whom the grass will grow and nothing more; or a +frame in which a bit of the one God has been set,—still I must live in the very +best way. How then must I live to be happy, and why was I not happy before?” +And he began to recall his former life and he felt disgusted with himself. He +appeared to himself to have been terribly exacting and selfish, though he now +saw that all the while he really needed nothing for himself. And he looked +round at the foliage with the light shining through it, at the setting sun and +the clear sky, and he felt just as happy as before. “Why am I happy, and what +used I to live for?” thought he. “How much I exacted for myself; how I schemed +and did not manage to gain anything but shame and sorrow! and, there now, I +require nothing to be happy;” and suddenly a new light seemed to reveal itself +to him. “Happiness is this!” he said to himself. “Happiness lies in living for +others. That is evident. The desire for happiness is innate in every man; +therefore it is legitimate. When trying to satisfy it selfishly—that is, by +seeking for oneself riches, fame, comforts, or love—it may happen that +circumstances arise which make it impossible to satisfy these desires. It +follows that it is these desires that are illegitimate, but not the need for +happiness. But what desires can always be satisfied despite external +circumstances? What are they? Love, self-sacrifice.” He was so glad and excited +when he had discovered this, as it seemed to him, new truth, that he jumped up +and began impatiently seeking some one to sacrifice himself for, to do good to +and to love. “Since one wants nothing for oneself,” he kept thinking, “why not +live for others?” He took up his gun with the intention of returning home +quickly to think this out and to find an opportunity of doing good. He made his +way out of the thicket. When he had come out into the glade he looked around +him; the sun was no longer visible above the tree-tops. It had grown cooler and +the place seemed to him quite strange and not like the country round the +village. Everything seemed changed—the weather and the character of the forest; +the sky was wrapped in clouds, the wind was rustling in the tree-tops, and all +around nothing was visible but reeds and dying broken-down trees. He called to +his dog who had run away to follow some animal, and his voice came back as in a +desert. And suddenly he was seized with a terrible sense of weirdness. He grew +frightened. He remembered the <i>abreks</i> and the murders he had been told +about, and he expected every moment that an <i>abrek</i> would spring from +behind every bush and he would have to defend his life and die, or be a coward. +He thought of God and of the future life as for long he had not thought about +them. And all around was that same gloomy stern wild nature. “And is it worth +while living for oneself,” thought he, “when at any moment you may die, and die +without having done any good, and so that no one will know of it?” He went in +the direction where he fancied the village lay. Of his shooting he had no +further thought; but he felt tired to death and peered round at every bush and +tree with particular attention and almost with terror, expecting every moment +to be called to account for his life. After having wandered about for a +considerable time he came upon a ditch down which was flowing cold sandy water +from the Térek, and, not to go astray any longer, he decided to follow it. He +went on without knowing where the ditch would lead him. Suddenly the reeds +behind him crackled. He shuddered and seized his gun, and then felt ashamed of +himself: the over-excited dog, panting hard, had thrown itself into the cold +water of the ditch and was lapping it! +</p> + +<p> +He too had a drink, and then followed the dog in the direction it wished to go, +thinking it would lead him to the village. But despite the dog’s company +everything around him seemed still more dreary. The forest grew darker and the +wind grew stronger and stronger in the tops of the broken old trees. Some large +birds circled screeching round their nests in those trees. The vegetation grew +poorer and he came oftener and oftener upon rustling reeds and bare sandy +spaces covered with animal footprints. To the howling of the wind was added +another kind of cheerless monotonous roar. Altogether his spirits became +gloomy. Putting his hand behind him he felt his pheasants, and found one +missing. It had broken off and was lost, and only the bleeding head and beak +remained sticking in his belt. He felt more frightened than he had ever done +before. He began to pray to God, and feared above all that he might die without +having done anything good or kind; and he so wanted to live, and to live so as +to perform a feat of self-sacrifice. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap21"></a> Chapter XXI</h2> + +<p> +Suddenly it was as though the sun had shone into his soul. He heard Russian +being spoken, and also heard the rapid smooth flow of the Térek, and a few +steps farther in front of him saw the brown moving surface of the river, with +the dim-coloured wet sand of its banks and shallows, the distant steppe, the +cordon watch-tower outlined above the water, a saddled and hobbled horse among +the brambles, and then the mountains opening out before him. The red sun +appeared for an instant from under a cloud and its last rays glittered brightly +along the river over the reeds, on the watch-tower, and on a group of Cossacks, +among whom Lukáshka’s vigorous figure attracted Olénin’s involuntary attention. +</p> + +<p> +Olénin felt that he was again, without any apparent cause, perfectly happy. He +had come upon the Nízhni-Protótsk post on the Térek, opposite a pro-Russian +Tartar village on the other side of the river. He accosted the Cossacks, but +not finding as yet any excuse for doing anyone a kindness, he entered the hut; +nor in the hut did he find any such opportunity. The Cossacks received him +coldly. On entering the mud hut he lit a cigarette. The Cossacks paid little +attention to him, first because he was smoking a cigarette, and secondly +because they had something else to divert them that evening. Some hostile +Chéchens, relatives of the <i>abrek</i> who had been killed, had come from the +hills with a scout to ransom the body; and the Cossacks were waiting for their +Commanding Officer’s arrival from the village. The dead man’s brother, tall and +well shaped with a short cropped beard which was dyed red, despite his very +tattered coat and cap was calm and majestic as a king. His face was very like +that of the dead <i>abrek</i>. He did not deign to look at anyone, and never +once glanced at the dead body, but sitting on his heels in the shade he spat as +he smoked his short pipe, and occasionally uttered some few guttural sounds of +command, which were respectfully listened to by his companion. He was evidently +a brave who had met Russians more than once before in quite other +circumstances, and nothing about them could astonish or even interest him. +Olénin was about to approach the dead body and had begun to look at it when the +brother, looking up at him from under his brows with calm contempt, said +something sharply and angrily. The scout hastened to cover the dead man’s face +with his coat. Olénin was struck by the dignified and stern expression of the +brave’s face. He began to speak to him, asking from what village he came, but +the Chéchen, scarcely giving him a glance, spat contemptuously and turned away. +Olénin was so surprised at the Chéchen not being interested in him that he +could only put it down to the man’s stupidity or ignorance of Russian; so he +turned to the scout, who also acted as interpreter. The scout was as ragged as +the other, but instead of being red-haired he was black-haired, restless, with +extremely white gleaming teeth and sparkling black eyes. The scout willingly +entered into conversation and asked for a cigarette. +</p> + +<p> +“There were five brothers,” began the scout in his broken Russian. “This is the +third brother the Russians have killed, only two are left. He is a brave, a +great brave!” he said, pointing to the Chéchen. “When they killed Ahmet Khan +(the dead brave) this one was sitting on the opposite bank among the reeds. He +saw it all. Saw him laid in the skiff and brought to the bank. He sat there +till the night and wished to kill the old man, but the others would not let +him.” +</p> + +<p> +Lukáshka went up to the speaker, and sat down. “Of what village?” asked he. +</p> + +<p> +“From there in the hills,” replied the scout, pointing to the misty bluish +gorge beyond the Térek. “Do you know Suuk-su? It is about eight miles beyond +that.” +</p> + +<p> +“Do you know Giréy Khan in Suuk-su?” asked Lukáshka, evidently proud of the +acquaintance. “He is my <i>kunak</i>.” +</p> + +<p> +“He is my neighbour,” answered the scout. +</p> + +<p> +“He’s a trump!” and Lukáshka, evidently much interested, began talking to the +scout in Tartar. +</p> + +<p> +Presently a Cossack captain, with the head of the village, arrived on horseback +with a suite of two Cossacks. The captain—one of the new type of Cossack +officers—wished the Cossacks “Good health,” but no one shouted in reply, “Hail! +Good health to your honour,” as is customary in the Russian Army, and only a +few replied with a bow. Some, and among them Lukáshka, rose and stood erect. +The corporal replied that all was well at the outposts. All this seemed +ridiculous: it was as if these Cossacks were playing at being soldiers. But +these formalities soon gave place to ordinary ways of behaviour, and the +captain, who was a smart Cossack just like the others, began speaking fluently +in Tartar to the interpreter. They filled in some document, gave it to the +scout, and received from him some money. Then they approached the body. +</p> + +<p> +“Which of you is Luke Gavrílov?” asked the captain. +</p> + +<p> +Lukáshka took off his cap and came forward. +</p> + +<p> +“I have reported your exploit to the Commander. I don’t know what will come of +it. I have recommended you for a cross; you’re too young to be made a sergeant. +Can you read?” +</p> + +<p> +“I can’t.” +</p> + +<p> +“But what a fine fellow to look at!” said the captain, again playing the +commander. “Put on your cap. Which of the Gavrílovs does he come of? ... the +Broad, eh?” +</p> + +<p> +“His nephew,” replied the corporal. +</p> + +<p> +“I know, I know. Well, lend a hand, help them,” he said, turning to the +Cossacks. +</p> + +<p> +Lukáshka’s face shone with joy and seemed handsomer than usual. He moved away +from the corporal, and having put on his cap sat down beside Olénin. +</p> + +<p> +When the body had been carried to the skiff the brother Chéchen descended to +the bank. The Cossacks involuntarily stepped aside to let him pass. He jumped +into the boat and pushed off from the bank with his powerful leg, and now, as +Olénin noticed, for the first time threw a rapid glance at all the Cossacks and +then abruptly asked his companion a question. The latter answered something and +pointed to Lukáshka. The Chéchen looked at him and, turning slowly away, gazed +at the opposite bank. That look expressed not hatred but cold contempt. He +again made some remark. +</p> + +<p> +“What is he saying?” Olénin asked of the fidgety scout. +</p> + +<p> +“Yours kill ours, ours slay yours. It’s always the same,” replied the scout, +evidently inventing, and he smiled, showing his white teeth, as he jumped into +the skiff. +</p> + +<p> +The dead man’s brother sat motionless, gazing at the opposite bank. He was so +full of hatred and contempt that there was nothing on this side of the river +that moved his curiosity. The scout, standing up at one end of the skiff and +dipping his paddle now on one side now on the other, steered skilfully while +talking incessantly. The skiff became smaller and smaller as it moved obliquely +across the stream, the voices became scarcely audible, and at last, still +within sight, they landed on the opposite bank where their horses stood +waiting. There they lifted out the corpse and (though the horse shied) laid it +across one of the saddles, mounted, and rode at a foot-pace along the road past +a Tartar village from which a crowd came out to look at them. The Cossacks on +the Russian side of the river were highly satisfied and jovial. Laughter and +jokes were heard on all sides. The captain and the head of the village entered +the mud hut to regale themselves. Lukáshka, vainly striving to impart a sedate +expression to his merry face, sat down with his elbows on his knees beside +Olénin and whittled away at a stick. +</p> + +<p> +“Why do you smoke?” he said with assumed curiosity. “Is it good?” +</p> + +<p> +He evidently spoke because he noticed Olénin felt ill at ease and isolated +among the Cossacks. +</p> + +<p> +“It’s just a habit,” answered Olénin. “Why?” +</p> + +<p> +“H’m, if one of us were to smoke there would be a row! Look there now, the +mountains are not far off,” continued Lukáshka, “yet you can’t get there! How +will you get back alone? It’s getting dark. I’ll take you, if you like. You ask +the corporal to give me leave.” +</p> + +<p> +“What a fine fellow!” thought Olénin, looking at the Cossack’s bright face. He +remembered Maryánka and the kiss he had heard by the gate, and he was sorry for +Lukáshka and his want of culture. “What confusion it is,” he thought. “A man +kills another and is happy and satisfied with himself as if he had done +something excellent. Can it be that nothing tells him that it is not a reason +for any rejoicing, and that happiness lies not in killing, but in sacrificing +oneself?” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, you had better not meet him again now, mate!” said one of the Cossacks +who had seen the skiff off, addressing Lukáshka. “Did you hear him asking about +you?” +</p> + +<p> +Lukáshka raised his head. +</p> + +<p> +“My godson?” said Lukáshka, meaning by that word the dead Chéchen. +</p> + +<p> +“Your godson won’t rise, but the red one is the godson’s brother!” +</p> + +<p> +“Let him thank God that he got off whole himself,” replied Lukáshka. +</p> + +<p> +“What are you glad about?” asked Olénin. “Supposing your brother had been +killed; would you be glad?” +</p> + +<p> +The Cossack looked at Olénin with laughing eyes. He seemed to have understood +all that Olénin wished to say to him, but to be above such considerations. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, that happens too! Don’t our fellows get killed sometimes?” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap22"></a> Chapter XXII</h2> + +<p> +The Captain and the head of the village rode away, and Olénin, to please +Lukáshka as well as to avoid going back alone through the dark forest, asked +the corporal to give Lukáshka leave, and the corporal did so. Olénin thought +that Lukáshka wanted to see Maryánka and he was also glad of the companionship +of such a pleasant-looking and sociable Cossack. Lukáshka and Maryánka he +involuntarily united in his mind, and he found pleasure in thinking about them. +“He loves Maryánka,” thought Olénin, “and I could love her,” and a new and +powerful emotion of tenderness overcame him as they walked homewards together +through the dark forest. Lukáshka too felt happy; something akin to love made +itself felt between these two very different young men. Every time they glanced +at one another they wanted to laugh. +</p> + +<p> +“By which gate do you enter?” asked Olénin. +</p> + +<p> +“By the middle one. But I’ll see you as far as the marsh. After that you have +nothing to fear.” +</p> + +<p> +Olénin laughed. +</p> + +<p> +“Do you think I am afraid? Go back, and thank you. I can get on alone.” +</p> + +<p> +“It’s all right! What have I to do? And how can you help being afraid? Even we +are afraid,” said Lukáshka to set Olénin’s self-esteem at rest, and he laughed +too. +</p> + +<p> +“Then come in with me. We’ll have a talk and a drink and in the morning you can +go back.” +</p> + +<p> +“Couldn’t I find a place to spend the night?” laughed Lukáshka. “But the +corporal asked me to go back.” +</p> + +<p> +“I heard you singing last night, and also saw you.” +</p> + +<p> +“Every one...” and Luke swayed his head. +</p> + +<p> +“Is it true you are getting married?” asked Olénin. +</p> + +<p> +“Mother wants me to marry. But I have not got a horse yet.” +</p> + +<p> +“Aren’t you in the regular service?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh dear no! I’ve only just joined, and have not got a horse yet, and don’t +know how to get one. That’s why the marriage does not come off.” +</p> + +<p> +“And what would a horse cost?” +</p> + +<p> +“We were bargaining for one beyond the river the other day and they would not +take sixty rubles for it, though it is a Nogáy horse.” +</p> + +<p> +“Will you come and be my drabánt?” (A drabánt was a kind of orderly attached to +an officer when campaigning.) “I’ll get it arranged and will give you a horse,” +said Olénin suddenly. “Really now, I have two and I don’t want both.” +</p> + +<p> +“How—don’t want it?” Lukáshka said, laughing. “Why should you make me a +present? We’ll get on by ourselves by God’s help.” +</p> + +<p> +“No, really! Or don’t you want to be a drabánt?” said Olénin, glad that it had +entered his head to give a horse to Lukáshka, though, without knowing why, he +felt uncomfortable and confused and did not know what to say when he tried to +speak. +</p> + +<p> +Lukáshka was the first to break the silence. +</p> + +<p> +“Have you a house of your own in Russia?” he asked. +</p> + +<p> +Olénin could not refrain from replying that he had not only one, but several +houses. +</p> + +<p> +“A good house? Bigger than ours?” asked Lukáshka good-naturedly. +</p> + +<p> +“Much bigger; ten times as big and three storeys high,” replied Olénin. +</p> + +<p> +“And have you horses such as ours?” +</p> + +<p> +“I have a hundred horses, worth three or four hundred rubles each, but they are +not like yours. They are trotters, you know.... But still, I like the horses +here best.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, and did you come here of your own free will, or were you sent?” said +Lukáshka, laughing at him. “Look! that’s where you lost your way,” he added, +“you should have turned to the right.” +</p> + +<p> +“I came by my own wish,” replied Olénin. “I wanted to see your parts and to +join some expeditions.” +</p> + +<p> +“I would go on an expedition any day,” said Lukáshka. “D’you hear the jackals +howling?” he added, listening. +</p> + +<p> +“I say, don’t you feel any horror at having killed a man?” asked Olénin. +</p> + +<p> +“What’s there to be frightened about? But I should like to join an expedition,” +Lukáshka repeated. “How I want to! How I want to!” +</p> + +<p> +“Perhaps we may be going together. Our company is going before the holidays, +and your ‘hundred’ too.” +</p> + +<p> +“And what did you want to come here for? You’ve a house and horses and serfs. +In your place I’d do nothing but make merry! And what is your rank?” +</p> + +<p> +“I am a cadet, but have been recommended for a commission.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, if you’re not bragging about your home, if I were you I’d never have +left it! Yes, I’d never have gone away anywhere. Do you find it pleasant living +among us?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, very pleasant,” answered Olénin. +</p> + +<p> +It had grown quite dark before, talking in this way, they approached the +village. They were still surrounded by the deep gloom of the forest. The wind +howled through the tree-tops. The jackals suddenly seemed to be crying close +beside them, howling, chuckling, and sobbing; but ahead of them in the village +the sounds of women’s voices and the barking of dogs could already be heard; +the outlines of the huts were clearly to be seen; lights gleamed and the air +was filled with the peculiar smell of <i>kisyak</i> smoke. Olénin felt keenly, +that night especially, that here in this village was his home, his family, all +his happiness, and that he never had and never would live so happily anywhere +as he did in this Cossack village. He was so fond of everybody and especially +of Lukáshka that night. On reaching home, to Lukáshka’s great surprise, Olénin +with his own hands led out of the shed a horse he had bought in Gróznoe—it was +not the one he usually rode but another—not a bad horse though no longer young, +and gave it to Lukáshka. +</p> + +<p> +“Why should you give me a present?” said Lukáshka, “I have not yet done +anything for you.” +</p> + +<p> +“Really it is nothing,” answered Olénin. “Take it, and you will give me a +present, and we’ll go on an expedition against the enemy together.” +</p> + +<p> +Lukáshka became confused. +</p> + +<p> +“But what d’you mean by it? As if a horse were of little value,” he said +without looking at the horse. +</p> + +<p> +“Take it, take it! If you don’t you will offend me. Vanyúsha! Take the grey +horse to his house.” +</p> + +<p> +Lukáshka took hold of the halter. +</p> + +<p> +“Well then, thank you! This is something unexpected, undreamt of.” +</p> + +<p> +Olénin was as happy as a boy of twelve. +</p> + +<p> +“Tie it up here. It’s a good horse. I bought it in Gróznoe; it gallops +splendidly! Vanyúsha, bring us some <i>chikhir</i>. Come into the hut.” +</p> + +<p> +The wine was brought. Lukáshka sat down and took the wine-bowl. +</p> + +<p> +“God willing I’ll find a way to repay you,” he said, finishing his wine. “How +are you called?” +</p> + +<p> +“Dmítri Andréich.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, ’Mitry Andréich, God bless you. We will be <i>kunaks</i>. Now you must +come to see us. Though we are not rich people still we can treat a +<i>kunak</i>, and I will tell mother in case you need anything—clotted cream or +grapes—and if you come to the cordon I’m your servant to go hunting or to go +across the river, anywhere you like! There now, only the other day, what a boar +I killed, and I divided it among the Cossacks, but if I had only known, I’d +have given it to you.” +</p> + +<p> +“That’s all right, thank you! But don’t harness the horse, it has never been in +harness.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why harness the horse? And there is something else I’ll tell you if you like,” +said Lukáshka, bending his head. “I have a <i>kunak</i>, Giréy Khan. He asked +me to lie in ambush by the road where they come down from the mountains. Shall +we go together? I’ll not betray you. I’ll be your <i>murid</i>.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, we’ll go; we’ll go some day.” +</p> + +<p> +Lukáshka seemed quite to have quieted down and to have understood Olénin’s +attitude towards him. His calmness and the ease of his behaviour surprised +Olénin, and he did not even quite like it. They talked long, and it was late +when Lukáshka, not tipsy (he never was tipsy) but having drunk a good deal, +left Olénin after shaking hands. +</p> + +<p> +Olénin looked out of the window to see what he would do. Lukáshka went out, +hanging his head. Then, having led the horse out of the gate, he suddenly shook +his head, threw the reins of the halter over its head, sprang onto its back +like a cat, gave a wild shout, and galloped down the street. Olénin expected +that Lukáshka would go to share his joy with Maryánka, but though he did not do +so Olénin still felt his soul more at ease than ever before in his life. He was +as delighted as a boy, and could not refrain from telling Vanyúsha not only +that he had given Lukáshka the horse, but also why he had done it, as well as +his new theory of happiness. +</p> + +<p> +Vanyúsha did not approve of his theory, and announced that “<i>l’argent il n’y +a pas!</i>” and that therefore it was all nonsense. +</p> + +<p> +Lukáshka rode home, jumped off the horse, and handed it over to his mother, +telling her to let it out with the communal Cossack herd. He himself had to +return to the cordon that same night. His deaf sister undertook to take the +horse, and explained by signs that when she saw the man who had given the +horse, she would bow down at his feet. The old woman only shook her head at her +son’s story, and decided in her own mind that he had stolen it. She therefore +told the deaf girl to take it to the herd before daybreak. +</p> + +<p> +Lukáshka went back alone to the cordon pondering over Olénin’s action. Though +he did not consider the horse a good one, yet it was worth at least forty +rubles and Lukáshka was very glad to have the present. But why it had been +given him he could not at all understand, and therefore he did not experience +the least feeling of gratitude. On the contrary, vague suspicions that the +cadet had some evil intentions filled his mind. What those intentions were he +could not decide, but neither could he admit the idea that a stranger would +give him a horse worth forty rubles for nothing, just out of kindness; it +seemed impossible. Had he been drunk one might understand it! He might have +wished to show off. But the cadet had been sober, and therefore must have +wished to bribe him to do something wrong. “Eh, humbug!” thought Lukáshka. +“Haven’t I got the horse and we’ll see later on. I’m not a fool myself and we +shall see who’ll get the better of the other,” he thought, feeling the +necessity of being on his guard, and therefore arousing in himself unfriendly +feelings towards Olénin. He told no one how he had got the horse. To some he +said he had bought it, to others he replied evasively. However, the truth soon +got about in the village, and Lukáshka’s mother and Maryánka, as well as Elias +Vasílich and other Cossacks, when they heard of Olénin’s unnecessary gift, were +perplexed, and began to be on their guard against the cadet. But despite their +fears his action aroused in them a great respect for his simplicity and wealth. +</p> + +<p> +“Have you heard,” said one, “that the cadet quartered on Elias Vasílich has +thrown a fifty-ruble horse at Lukáshka? He’s rich! ...” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, I heard of it,” replied another profoundly, “he must have done him some +great service. We shall see what will come of this cadet. Eh! what luck that +Snatcher has!” +</p> + +<p> +“Those cadets are crafty, awfully crafty,” said a third. “See if he don’t go +setting fire to a building, or doing something!” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap23"></a> Chapter XXIII</h2> + +<p> +Olénin’s life went on with monotonous regularity. He had little intercourse +with the commanding officers or with his equals. The position of a rich cadet +in the Caucasus was peculiarly advantageous in this respect. He was not sent +out to work, or for training. As a reward for going on an expedition he was +recommended for a commission, and meanwhile he was left in peace. The officers +regarded him as an aristocrat and behaved towards him with dignity. Cardplaying +and the officers’ carousals accompanied by the soldier-singers, of which he had +had experience when he was with the detachment, did not seem to him attractive, +and he also avoided the society and life of the officers in the village. The +life of officers stationed in a Cossack village has long had its own definite +form. Just as every cadet or officer when in a fort regularly drinks porter, +plays cards, and discusses the rewards given for taking part in the +expeditions, so in the Cossack villages he regularly drinks <i>chikhir</i> with +his hosts, treats the girls to sweet-meats and honey, dangles after the Cossack +women, and falls in love, and occasionally marries there. Olénin always took +his own path and had an unconscious objection to the beaten tracks. And here, +too, he did not follow the ruts of a Caucasian officer’s life. +</p> + +<p> +It came quite naturally to him to wake up at daybreak. After drinking tea and +admiring from his porch the mountains, the morning, and Maryánka, he would put +on a tattered ox-hide coat, sandals of soaked raw hide, buckle on a dagger, +take a gun, put cigarettes and some lunch in a little bag, call his dog, and +soon after five o’clock would start for the forest beyond the village. Towards +seven in the evening he would return tired and hungry with five or six +pheasants hanging from his belt (sometimes with some other animal) and with his +bag of food and cigarettes untouched. If the thoughts in his head had lain like +the lunch and cigarettes in the bag, one might have seen that during all those +fourteen hours not a single thought had moved in it. He returned morally fresh, +strong, and perfectly happy, and he could not tell what he had been thinking +about all the time. Were they ideas, memories, or dreams that had been flitting +through his mind? They were frequently all three. He would rouse himself and +ask what he had been thinking about; and would see himself as a Cossack working +in a vineyard with his Cossack wife, or an <i>abrek</i> in the mountains, or a +boar running away from himself. And all the time he kept peering and watching +for a pheasant, a boar, or a deer. +</p> + +<p> +In the evening Daddy Eróshka would be sure to be sitting with him. Vanyúsha +would bring a jug of <i>chikhir</i>, and they would converse quietly, drink, +and separate to go quite contentedly to bed. The next day he would again go +shooting, again be healthily weary, again they would sit conversing and drink +their fill, and again be happy. Sometimes on a holiday or day of rest Olénin +spent the whole day at home. Then his chief occupation was watching Maryánka, +whose every movement, without realizing it himself, he followed greedily from +his window or his porch. He regarded Maryánka and loved her (so he thought) +just as he loved the beauty of the mountains and the sky, and he had no thought +of entering into any relations with her. It seemed to him that between him and +her such relations as there were between her and the Cossack Lukáshka could not +exist, and still less such as often existed between rich officers and other +Cossack girls. It seemed to him that if he tried to do as his fellow officers +did, he would exchange his complete enjoyment of contemplation for an abyss of +suffering, disillusionment, and remorse. Besides, he had already achieved a +triumph of self-sacrifice in connexion with her which had given him great +pleasure, and above all he was in a way afraid of Maryánka and would not for +anything have ventured to utter a word of love to her lightly. +</p> + +<p> +Once during the summer, when Olénin had not gone out shooting but was sitting +at home, quite unexpectedly a Moscow acquaintance, a very young man whom he had +met in society, came in. +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, <i>mon cher</i>, my dear fellow, how glad I was when I heard that you were +here!” he began in his Moscow French, and he went on intermingling French words +in his remarks. “They said, ‘Olénin’. What Olénin? and I was so pleased.... +Fancy fate bringing us together here! Well, and how are you? How? Why?” and +Prince Belétski told his whole story: how he had temporarily entered the +regiment, how the Commander-in-Chief had offered to take him as an adjutant, +and how he would take up the post after this campaign although personally he +felt quite indifferent about it. +</p> + +<p> +“Living here in this hole one must at least make a career—get a cross—or a +rank—be transferred to the Guards. That is quite indispensable, not for myself +but for the sake of my relations and friends. The prince received me very well; +he is a very decent fellow,” said Belétski, and went on unceasingly. “I have +been recommended for the St. Anna Cross for the expedition. Now I shall stay +here a bit until we start on the campaign. It’s capital here. What women! Well, +and how are you getting on? I was told by our captain, Stártsev you know, a +kind-hearted stupid creature.... Well, he said you were living like an awful +savage, seeing no one! I quite understand you don’t want to be mixed up with +the set of officers we have here. I am so glad now you and I will be able to +see something of one another. I have put up at the Cossack corporal’s house. +There is such a girl there. Ústenka! I tell you she’s just charming.” +</p> + +<p> +And more and more French and Russian words came pouring forth from that world +which Olénin thought he had left for ever. The general opinion about Belétski +was that he was a nice, good-natured fellow. Perhaps he really was; but in +spite of his pretty, good-natured face, Olénin thought him extremely +unpleasant. He seemed just to exhale that filthiness which Olénin had forsworn. +What vexed him most was that he could not—had not the strength—abruptly to +repulse this man who came from that world: as if that old world he used to +belong to had an irresistible claim on him. Olénin felt angry with Belétski and +with himself, yet against his wish he introduced French phrases into his own +conversation, was interested in the Commander-in-Chief and in their Moscow +acquaintances, and because in this Cossack village he and Belétski both spoke +French, he spoke contemptuously of their fellow officers and of the Cossacks, +and was friendly with Belétski, promising to visit him and inviting him to drop +in to see him. Olénin however did not himself go to see Belétski. Vanyúsha for +his part approved of Belétski, remarking that he was a real gentleman. +</p> + +<p> +Belétski at once adopted the customary life of a rich officer in a Cossack +village. Before Olénin’s eyes, in one month he came to be like an old resident +of the village; he made the old men drunk, arranged evening parties, and +himself went to parties arranged by the girls—bragged of his conquests, and +even got so far that, for some unknown reason, the women and girls began +calling him grandad, and the Cossacks, to whom a man who loved wine and women +was clearly understandable, got used to him and even liked him better than they +did Olénin, who was a puzzle to them. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap24"></a> Chapter XXIV</h2> + +<p> +It was five in the morning. Vanyúsha was in the porch heating the samovar, and +using the leg of a long boot instead of bellows. Olénin had already ridden off +to bathe in the Térek. (He had recently invented a new amusement: to swim his +horse in the river.) His landlady was in her outhouse, and the dense smoke of +the kindling fire rose from the chimney. The girl was milking the buffalo cow +in the shed. “Can’t keep quiet, the damned thing!” came her impatient voice, +followed by the rhythmical sound of milking. +</p> + +<p> +From the street in front of the house horses’ hoofs were heard clattering +briskly, and Olénin, riding bareback on a handsome dark-grey horse which was +still wet and shining, rode up to the gate. Maryánka’s handsome head, tied +round with a red kerchief, appeared from the shed and again disappeared. Olénin +was wearing a red silk shirt, a white Circassian coat girdled with a strap +which carried a dagger, and a tall cap. He sat his well-fed wet horse with a +slightly conscious elegance and, holding his gun at his back, stooped to open +the gate. His hair was still wet, and his face shone with youth and health. He +thought himself handsome, agile, and like a brave; but he was mistaken. To any +experienced Caucasian he was still only a soldier. When he noticed that the +girl had put out her head he stooped with particular smartness, threw open the +gate and, tightening the reins, swished his whip and entered the yard. “Is tea +ready, Vanyúsha?” he cried gaily, not looking at the door of the shed. He felt +with pleasure how his fine horse, pressing down its flanks, pulling at the +bridle and with every muscle quivering and with each foot ready to leap over +the fence, pranced on the hard clay of the yard. <i>“C’est prêt</i>,” answered +Vanyúsha. Olénin felt as if Maryánka’s beautiful head was still looking out of +the shed but he did not turn to look at her. As he jumped down from his horse +he made an awkward movement and caught his gun against the porch, and turned a +frightened look towards the shed, where there was no one to be seen and whence +the sound of milking could still be heard. +</p> + +<p> +Soon after he had entered the hut he came out again and sat down with his pipe +and a book on the side of the porch which was not yet exposed to the rays of +the sun. He meant not to go anywhere before dinner that day, and to write some +long-postponed letters; but somehow he felt disinclined to leave his place in +the porch, and he was as reluctant to go back into the hut as if it had been a +prison. The housewife had heated her oven, and the girl, having driven the +cattle, had come back and was collecting <i>kisyak</i> and heaping it up along +the fence. Olénin went on reading, but did not understand a word of what was +written in the book that lay open before him. He kept lifting his eyes from it +and looking at the powerful young woman who was moving about. Whether she +stepped into the moist morning shadow thrown by the house, or went out into the +middle of the yard lit up by the joyous young light, so that the whole of her +stately figure in its bright coloured garment gleamed in the sunshine and cast +a black shadow—he always feared to lose any one of her movements. It delighted +him to see how freely and gracefully her figure bent: into what folds her only +garment, a pink smock, draped itself on her bosom and along her shapely legs; +how she drew herself up and her tight-drawn smock showed the outline of her +heaving bosom, how the soles of her narrow feet in her worn red slippers rested +on the ground without altering their shape; how her strong arms with the +sleeves rolled up, exerting the muscles, used the spade almost as if in anger, +and how her deep dark eyes sometimes glanced at him. Though the delicate brows +frowned, yet her eyes expressed pleasure and a knowledge of her own beauty. +</p> + +<p> +“I say, Olénin, have you been up long?” said Belétski as he entered the yard +dressed in the coat of a Caucasian officer. +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, Belétski,” replied Olénin, holding out his hand. “How is it you are out so +early?” +</p> + +<p> +“I had to. I was driven out; we are having a ball tonight. Maryánka, of course +you’ll come to Ústenka’s?” he added, turning to the girl. +</p> + +<p> +Olénin felt surprised that Belétski could address this woman so easily. But +Maryánka, as though she had not heard him, bent her head, and throwing the +spade across her shoulder went with her firm masculine tread towards the +outhouse. +</p> + +<p> +“She’s shy, the wench is shy,” Belétski called after her. “Shy of you,” he +added as, smiling gaily, he ran up the steps of the porch. +</p> + +<p> +“How is it you are having a ball and have been driven out?” +</p> + +<p> +“It’s at Ústenka’s, at my landlady’s, that the ball is, and you two are +invited. A ball consists of a pie and a gathering of girls.” +</p> + +<p> +“What should we do there?” +</p> + +<p> +Belétski smiled knowingly and winked, jerking his head in the direction of the +outhouse into which Maryánka had disappeared. +</p> + +<p> +Olénin shrugged his shoulders and blushed. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, really you are a strange fellow!” said he. +</p> + +<p> +“Come now, don’t pretend” +</p> + +<p> +Olénin frowned, and Belétski noticing this smiled insinuatingly. “Oh, come, +what do you mean?” he said, “living in the same house—and such a fine girl, a +splendid girl, a perfect beauty—” +</p> + +<p> +“Wonderfully beautiful! I never saw such a woman before,” replied Olénin. +</p> + +<p> +“Well then?” said Belétski, quite unable to understand the situation. +</p> + +<p> +“It may be strange,” replied Olénin, “but why should I not say what is true? +Since I have lived here women don’t seem to exist for me. And it is so good, +really! Now what can there be in common between us and women like these? +Eróshka—that’s a different matter! He and I have a passion in common—sport.” +</p> + +<p> +“There now! In common! And what have I in common with Amália Ivánovna? It’s the +same thing! You may say they’re not very clean—that’s another matter... <i>À la +guerre, comme à la guerre!</i>...” +</p> + +<p> +“But I have never known any Amália Ivánovas, and have never known how to behave +with women of that sort,” replied Olénin. “One cannot respect them, but these I +do respect.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well go on respecting them! Who wants to prevent you?” +</p> + +<p> +Olénin did not reply. He evidently wanted to complete what he had begun to say. +It was very near his heart. +</p> + +<p> +“I know I am an exception...” He was visibly confused. “But my life has so +shaped itself that I not only see no necessity to renounce my rules, but I +could not live here, let alone live as happily as I am doing, were I to live as +you do. Therefore I look for something quite different from what you look for.” +</p> + +<p> +Belétski raised his eyebrows incredulously. “Anyhow, come to me this evening; +Maryánka will be there and I will make you acquainted. Do come, please! If you +feel dull you can go away. Will you come?” +</p> + +<p> +“I would come, but to speak frankly I am afraid of being seriously carried +away.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, oh, oh!” shouted Belétski. “Only come, and I’ll see that you aren’t. Will +you? On your word?” +</p> + +<p> +“I would come, but really I don’t understand what we shall do; what part we +shall play!” +</p> + +<p> +“Please, I beg of you. You will come?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, perhaps I’ll come,” said Olénin. +</p> + +<p> +“Really now! Charming women such as one sees nowhere else, and to live like a +monk! What an idea! Why spoil your life and not make use of what is at hand? +Have you heard that our company is ordered to Vozdvízhensk?” +</p> + +<p> +“Hardly. I was told the 8th Company would be sent there,” said Olénin. +</p> + +<p> +“No. I have had a letter from the adjutant there. He writes that the Prince +himself will take part in the campaign. I am very glad I shall see something of +him. I’m beginning to get tired of this place.” +</p> + +<p> +“I hear we shall start on a raid soon.” +</p> + +<p> +“I have not heard of it; but I have heard that Krinovítsin has received the +Order of St. Anna for a raid. He expected a lieutenancy,” said Belétski +laughing. “He was let in! He has set off for headquarters.” +</p> + +<p> +It was growing dusk and Olénin began thinking about the party. The invitation +he had received worried him. He felt inclined to go, but what might take place +there seemed strange, absurd, and even rather alarming. He knew that neither +Cossack men nor older women, nor anyone besides the girls, were to be there. +What was going to happen? How was he to behave? What would they talk about? +What connexion was there between him and those wild Cossack girls? Belétski had +told him of such curious, cynical, and yet rigid relations. It seemed strange +to think that he would be there in the same hut with Maryánka and perhaps might +have to talk to her. It seemed to him impossible when he remembered her +majestic bearing. But Belétski spoke of it as if it were all perfectly simple. +“Is it possible that Belétski will treat Maryánka in the same way? That is +interesting,” thought he. “No, better not go. It’s all so horrid, so vulgar, +and above all—it leads to nothing!” But again he was worried by the question of +what would take place; and besides he felt as if bound by a promise. He went +out without having made up his mind one way or the other, but he walked as far +as Belétski’s, and went in there. +</p> + +<p> +The hut in which Belétski lived was like Olénin’s. It was raised nearly five +feet from the ground on wooden piles, and had two rooms. In the first (which +Olénin entered by the steep flight of steps) feather beds, rugs, blankets, and +cushions were tastefully and handsomely arranged, Cossack fashion, along the +main wall. On the side wall hung brass basins and weapons, while on the floor, +under a bench, lay watermelons and pumpkins. In the second room there was a big +brick oven, a table, and sectarian icons. It was here that Belétski was +quartered, with his camp-bed and his pack and trunks. His weapons hung on the +wall with a little rug behind them, and on the table were his toilet appliances +and some portraits. A silk dressing-gown had been thrown on the bench. Belétski +himself, clean and good-looking, lay on the bed in his underclothing, reading +<i>Les Trois Mousquetaires</i>. +</p> + +<p> +He jumped up. +</p> + +<p> +“There, you see how I have arranged things. Fine! Well, it’s good that you have +come. They are working furiously. Do you know what the pie is made of? Dough +with a stuffing of pork and grapes. But that’s not the point. You just look at +the commotion out there!” +</p> + +<p> +And really, on looking out of the window they saw an unusual bustle going on in +the hut. Girls ran in and out, now for one thing and now for another. +</p> + +<p> +“Will it soon be ready?” cried Belétski. +</p> + +<p> +“Very soon! Why? Is Grandad hungry?” and from the hut came the sound of ringing +laughter. +</p> + +<p> +Ústenka, plump, small, rosy, and pretty, with her sleeves turned up, ran into +Belétski’s hut to fetch some plates. +</p> + +<p> +“Get away or I shall smash the plates!” she squeaked, escaping from Belétski. +“You’d better come and help,” she shouted to Olénin, laughing. “And don’t +forget to get some refreshments for the girls.” (“Refreshments” meaning +spicebread and sweets.) +</p> + +<p> +“And has Maryánka come?” +</p> + +<p> +“Of course! She brought some dough.” +</p> + +<p> +“Do you know,” said Belétski, “if one were to dress Ústenka up and clean and +polish her up a bit, she’d be better than all our beauties. Have you ever seen +that Cossack woman who married a colonel; she was charming! Bórsheva? What +dignity! Where do they get it...” +</p> + +<p> +“I have not seen Bórsheva, but I think nothing could be better than the costume +they wear here.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, I’m first-rate at fitting into any kind of life,” said Belétski with a +sigh of pleasure. “I’ll go and see what they are up to.” +</p> + +<p> +He threw his dressing-gown over his shoulders and ran out, shouting, “And you +look after the ‘refreshments’.” +</p> + +<p> +Olénin sent Belétski’s orderly to buy spice-bread and honey; but it suddenly +seemed to him so disgusting to give money (as if he were bribing someone) that +he gave no definite reply to the orderly’s question: “How much spice-bread with +peppermint, and how much with honey?” +</p> + +<p> +“Just as you please.” +</p> + +<p> +“Shall I spend all the money,” asked the old soldier impressively. “The +peppermint is dearer. It’s sixteen kopeks.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, yes, spend it all,” answered Olénin and sat down by the window, surprised +that his heart was thumping as if he were preparing himself for something +serious and wicked. +</p> + +<p> +He heard screaming and shrieking in the girls’ hut when Belétski went there, +and a few moments later saw how he jumped out and ran down the steps, +accompanied by shrieks, bustle, and laughter. +</p> + +<p> +“Turned out,” he said. +</p> + +<p> +A little later Ústenka entered and solemnly invited her visitors to come in: +announcing that all was ready. +</p> + +<p> +When they came into the room they saw that everything was really ready. Ústenka +was rearranging the cushions along the wall. On the table, which was covered by +a disproportionately small cloth, was a decanter of <i>chikhir</i> and some +dried fish. The room smelt of dough and grapes. Some half dozen girls in smart +tunics, with their heads not covered as usual with kerchiefs, were huddled +together in a corner behind the oven, whispering, giggling, and spluttering +with laughter. +</p> + +<p> +“I humbly beg you to do honour to my patron saint,” said Ústenka, inviting her +guests to the table. +</p> + +<p> +Olénin noticed Maryánka among the group of girls, who without exception were +all handsome, and he felt vexed and hurt that he met her in such vulgar and +awkward circumstances. He felt stupid and awkward, and made up his mind to do +what Belétski did. Belétski stepped to the table somewhat solemnly yet with +confidence and ease, drank a glass of wine to Ústenka’s health, and invited the +others to do the same. Ústenka announced that girls don’t drink. +</p> + +<p> +“We might with a little honey,” exclaimed a voice from among the group of +girls. +</p> + +<p> +The orderly, who had just returned with the honey and spice-cakes, was called +in. He looked askance (whether with envy or with contempt) at the gentlemen, +who in his opinion were on the spree; and carefully and conscientiously handed +over to them a piece of honeycomb and the cakes wrapped up in a piece of +greyish paper, and began explaining circumstantially all about the price and +the change, but Belétski sent him away. +</p> + +<p> +Having mixed honey with wine in the glasses, and having lavishly scattered the +three pounds of spice-cakes on the table, Belétski dragged the girls from their +corners by force, made them sit down at the table, and began distributing the +cakes among them. Olénin involuntarily noticed how Maryánka’s sunburnt but +small hand closed on two round peppermint nuts and one brown one, and that she +did not know what to do with them. The conversation was halting and +constrained, in spite of Ústenka’s and Belétski’s free and easy manner and +their wish to enliven the company. Olénin faltered, and tried to think of +something to say, feeling that he was exciting curiosity and perhaps provoking +ridicule and infecting the others with his shyness. He blushed, and it seemed +to him that Maryánka in particular was feeling uncomfortable. “Most likely they +are expecting us to give them some money,” thought he. “How are we to do it? +And how can we manage quickest to give it and get away?” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap25"></a> Chapter XXV</h2> + +<p> +“How is it you don’t know your own lodger?” said Belétski, addressing Maryánka. +</p> + +<p> +“How is one to know him if he never comes to see us?” answered Maryánka, with a +look at Olénin. +</p> + +<p> +Olénin felt frightened, he did not know of what. He flushed and, hardly knowing +what he was saying, remarked: “I’m afraid of your mother. She gave me such a +scolding the first time I went in.” +</p> + +<p> +Maryánka burst out laughing. “And so you were frightened?” she said, and +glanced at him and turned away. +</p> + +<p> +It was the first time Olénin had seen the whole of her beautiful face. Till +then he had seen her with her kerchief covering her to the eyes. It was not for +nothing that she was reckoned the beauty of the village. Ústenka was a pretty +girl, small, plump, rosy, with merry brown eyes, and red lips which were +perpetually smiling and chattering. Maryánka on the contrary was certainly not +pretty but beautiful. Her features might have been considered too masculine and +almost harsh had it not been for her tall stately figure, her powerful chest +and shoulders, and especially the severe yet tender expression of her long dark +eyes which were darkly shadowed beneath their black brows, and for the gentle +expression of her mouth and smile. She rarely smiled, but her smile was always +striking. She seemed to radiate virginal strength and health. All the girls +were good-looking, but they themselves and Belétski, and the orderly when he +brought in the spice-cakes, all involuntarily gazed at Maryánka, and anyone +addressing the girls was sure to address her. She seemed a proud and happy +queen among them. +</p> + +<p> +Belétski, trying to keep up the spirit of the party, chattered incessantly, +made the girls hand round <i>chikhir</i>, fooled about with them, and kept +making improper remarks in French about Maryánka’s beauty to Olénin, calling +her “yours” (<i>la vôtre</i>), and advising him to behave as he did himself. +Olénin felt more and more uncomfortable. He was devising an excuse to get out +and run away when Belétski announced that Ústenka, whose saint’s day it was, +must offer <i>chikhir</i> to everybody with a kiss. She consented on condition +that they should put money on her plate, as is the custom at weddings. +</p> + +<p> +“What fiend brought me to this disgusting feast?” thought Olénin, rising to go +away. +</p> + +<p> +“Where are you off to?” +</p> + +<p> +“I’ll fetch some tobacco,” he said, meaning to escape, but Belétski seized his +hand. +</p> + +<p> +“I have some money,” he said to him in French. +</p> + +<p> +“One can’t go away, one has to pay here,” thought Olénin bitterly, vexed at his +own awkwardness. “Can’t I really behave like Belétski? I ought not to have +come, but once I am here I must not spoil their fun. I must drink like a +Cossack,” and taking the wooden bowl (holding about eight tumblers) he almost +filled it with <i>chikhir</i> and drank it almost all. The girls looked at him, +surprised and almost frightened, as he drank. It seemed to them strange and not +right. Ústenka brought them another glass each, and kissed them both. “There +girls, now we’ll have some fun,” she said, clinking on the plate the four +rubles the men had put there. +</p> + +<p> +Olénin no longer felt awkward, but became talkative. +</p> + +<p> +“Now, Maryánka, it’s your turn to offer us wine and a kiss,” said Belétski, +seizing her hand. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, I’ll give you such a kiss!” she said playfully, preparing to strike at +him. +</p> + +<p> +“One can kiss Grandad without payment,” said another girl. +</p> + +<p> +“There’s a sensible girl,” said Belétski, kissing the struggling girl. “No, you +must offer it,” he insisted, addressing Maryánka. “Offer a glass to your +lodger.” +</p> + +<p> +And taking her by the hand he led her to the bench and sat her down beside +Olénin. +</p> + +<p> +“What a beauty,” he said, turning her head to see it in profile. +</p> + +<p> +Maryánka did not resist but proudly smiling turned her long eyes towards +Olénin. +</p> + +<p> +“A beautiful girl,” repeated Belétski. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, see what a beauty I am,” Maryánka’s look seemed to endorse. Without +considering what he was doing Olénin embraced Maryánka and was going to kiss +her, but she suddenly extricated herself, upsetting Belétski and pushing the +top off the table, and sprang away towards the oven. There was much shouting +and laughter. Then Belétski whispered something to the girls and suddenly they +all ran out into the passage and locked the door behind them. +</p> + +<p> +“Why did you kiss Belétski and won’t kiss me?” asked Olénin. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, just so. I don’t want to, that’s all!” she answered, pouting and frowning. +“He’s Grandad,” she added with a smile. She went to the door and began to bang +at it. “Why have you locked the door, you devils?” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, let them be there and us here,” said Olénin, drawing closer to her. +</p> + +<p> +She frowned, and sternly pushed him away with her hand. And again she appeared +so majestically handsome to Olénin that he came to his senses and felt ashamed +of what he was doing. He went to the door and began pulling at it himself. +</p> + +<p> +“Belétski! Open the door! What a stupid joke!” +</p> + +<p> +Maryánka again gave a bright happy laugh. “Ah, you’re afraid of me?” she said. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, you know you’re as cross as your mother.” +</p> + +<p> +“Spend more of your time with Eróshka; that will make the girls love you!” And +she smiled, looking straight and close into his eyes. +</p> + +<p> +He did not know what to reply. “And if I were to come to see you—” he let fall. +</p> + +<p> +“That would be a different matter,” she replied, tossing her head. +</p> + +<p> +At that moment Belétski pushed the door open, and Maryánka sprang away from +Olénin and in doing so her thigh struck his leg. +</p> + +<p> +“It’s all nonsense what I have been thinking about—love and self-sacrifice and +Lukáshka. Happiness is the one thing. He who is happy is right,” flashed +through Olénin’s mind, and with a strength unexpected to himself he seized and +kissed the beautiful Maryánka on her temple and her cheek. Maryánka was not +angry, but only burst into a loud laugh and ran out to the other girls. +</p> + +<p> +That was the end of the party. Ústenka’s mother, returned from her work, gave +all the girls a scolding, and turned them all out. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap26"></a> Chapter XXVI</h2> + +<p> +“Yes,” thought Olénin, as he walked home. “I need only slacken the reins a bit +and I might fall desperately in love with this Cossack girl.” He went to bed +with these thoughts, but expected it all to blow over and that he would +continue to live as before. +</p> + +<p> +But the old life did not return. His relations to Maryánka were changed. The +wall that had separated them was broken down. Olénin now greeted her every time +they met. +</p> + +<p> +The master of the house having returned to collect the rent, on hearing of +Olénin’s wealth and generosity invited him to his hut. The old woman received +him kindly, and from the day of the party onwards Olénin often went in of an +evening and sat with them till late at night. He seemed to be living in the +village just as he used to, but within him everything had changed. He spent his +days in the forest, and towards eight o’clock, when it began to grow dusk, he +would go to see his hosts, alone or with Daddy Eróshka. They grew so used to +him that they were surprised when he stayed away. He paid well for his wine and +was a quiet fellow. Vanyúsha would bring him his tea and he would sit down in a +corner near the oven. The old woman did not mind him but went on with her work, +and over their tea or their <i>chikhir</i> they talked about Cossack affairs, +about the neighbours, or about Russia: Olénin relating and the others +inquiring. Sometimes he brought a book and read to himself. Maryánka crouched +like a wild goat with her feet drawn up under her, sometimes on the top of the +oven, sometimes in a dark corner. She did not take part in the conversations, +but Olénin saw her eyes and face and heard her moving or cracking sunflower +seeds, and he felt that she listened with her whole being when he spoke, and +was aware of his presence while he silently read to himself. Sometimes he +thought her eyes were fixed on him, and meeting their radiance he involuntarily +became silent and gazed at her. Then she would instantly hide her face and he +would pretend to be deep in conversation with the old woman, while he listened +all the time to her breathing and to her every movement and waited for her to +look at him again. In the presence of others she was generally bright and +friendly with him, but when they were alone together she was shy and rough. +Sometimes he came in before Maryánka had returned home. Suddenly he would hear +her firm footsteps and catch a glimmer of her blue cotton smock at the open +door. Then she would step into the middle of the hut, catch sight of him, and +her eyes would give a scarcely perceptible kindly smile, and he would feel +happy and frightened. +</p> + +<p> +He neither sought for nor wished for anything from her, but every day her +presence became more and more necessary to him. +</p> + +<p> +Olénin had entered into the life of the Cossack village so fully that his past +seemed quite foreign to him. As to the future, especially a future outside the +world in which he was now living, it did not interest him at all. When he +received letters from home, from relatives and friends, he was offended by the +evident distress with which they regarded him as a lost man, while he in his +village considered those as lost who did not live as he was living. He felt +sure he would never repent of having broken away from his former surroundings +and of having settled down in this village to such a solitary and original +life. When out on expeditions, and when quartered at one of the forts, he felt +happy too; but it was here, from under Daddy Eróshka’s wing, from the forest +and from his hut at the end of the village, and especially when he thought of +Maryánka and Lukáshka, that he seemed to see the falseness of his former life. +That falseness used to rouse his indignation even before, but now it seemed +inexpressibly vile and ridiculous. Here he felt freer and freer every day and +more and more of a man. The Caucasus now appeared entirely different to what +his imagination had painted it. He had found nothing at all like his dreams, +nor like the descriptions of the Caucasus he had heard and read. “There are +none of all those chestnut steeds, precipices, Amalet Beks, heroes or +villains,” thought he. “The people live as nature lives: they die, are born, +unite, and more are born—they fight, eat and drink, rejoice and die, without +any restrictions but those that nature imposes on sun and grass, on animal and +tree. They have no other laws.” Therefore these people, compared to himself, +appeared to him beautiful, strong, and free, and the sight of them made him +feel ashamed and sorry for himself. Often it seriously occurred to him to throw +up everything, to get registered as a Cossack, to buy a hut and cattle and +marry a Cossack woman (only not Maryánka, whom he conceded to Lukáshka), and to +live with Daddy Eróshka and go shooting and fishing with him, and go with the +Cossacks on their expeditions. “Why ever don’t I do it? What am I waiting for?” +he asked himself, and he egged himself on and shamed himself. “Am I afraid of +doing what I hold to be reasonable and right? Is the wish to be a simple +Cossack, to live close to nature, not to injure anyone but even to do good to +others, more stupid than my former dreams, such as those of becoming a minister +of state or a colonel?” but a voice seemed to say that he should wait, and not +take any decision. He was held back by a dim consciousness that he could not +live altogether like Eróshka and Lukáshka because he had a different idea of +happiness—he was held back by the thought that happiness lies in +self-sacrifice. What he had done for Lukáshka continued to give him joy. He +kept looking for occasions to sacrifice himself for others, but did not meet +with them. Sometimes he forgot this newly discovered recipe for happiness and +considered himself capable of identifying his life with Daddy Eróshka’s, but +then he quickly bethought himself and promptly clutched at the idea of +conscious self-sacrifice, and from that basis looked calmly and proudly at all +men and at their happiness. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap27"></a> Chapter XXVII</h2> + +<p> +Just before the vintage Lukáshka came on horseback to see Olénin. He looked +more dashing than ever. +</p> + +<p> +“Well? Are you getting married?” asked Olénin, greeting him merrily. +</p> + +<p> +Lukáshka gave no direct reply. +</p> + +<p> +“There, I’ve exchanged your horse across the river. This <i>is</i> a horse! A +Kabardá horse from the Lov stud. I know horses.” +</p> + +<p> +They examined the new horse and made him caracole about the yard. The horse +really was an exceptionally fine one, a broad and long gelding, with glossy +coat, thick silky tail, and the soft fine mane and crest of a thoroughbred. He +was so well fed that “you might go to sleep on his back” as Lukáshka expressed +it. His hoofs, eyes, teeth, were exquisitely shaped and sharply outlined, as +one only finds them in very pure-bred horses. Olénin could not help admiring +the horse, he had not yet met with such a beauty in the Caucasus. +</p> + +<p> +“And how it goes!” said Lukáshka, patting its neck. “What a step! And so +clever—he simply runs after his master.” +</p> + +<p> +“Did you have to add much to make the exchange?” asked Olénin. +</p> + +<p> +“I did not count it,” answered Lukáshka with a smile. “I got him from a +<i>kunak</i>.” +</p> + +<p> +“A wonderfully beautiful horse! What would you take for it?” asked Olénin. +</p> + +<p> +“I have been offered a hundred and fifty rubles for it, but I’ll give it you +for nothing,” said Lukáshka, merrily. “Only say the word and it’s yours. I’ll +unsaddle it and you may take it. Only give me some sort of a horse for my +duties.” +</p> + +<p> +“No, on no account.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well then, here is a dagger I’ve brought you,” said Lukáshka, unfastening his +girdle and taking out one of the two daggers which hung from it. “I got it from +across the river.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, thank you!” +</p> + +<p> +“And mother has promised to bring you some grapes herself.” +</p> + +<p> +“That’s quite unnecessary. We’ll balance up some day. You see I don’t offer you +any money for the dagger!” +</p> + +<p> +“How could you? We are <i>kunaks</i>. It’s just the same as when Giréy Khan +across the river took me into his home and said, ‘Choose what you like!’ So I +took this sword. It’s our custom.” +</p> + +<p> +They went into the hut and had a drink. +</p> + +<p> +“Are you staying here awhile?” asked Olénin. +</p> + +<p> +“No, I have come to say good-bye. They are sending me from the cordon to a +company beyond the Térek. I am going tonight with my comrade Nazárka.” +</p> + +<p> +“And when is the wedding to be?” +</p> + +<p> +“I shall be coming back for the betrothal, and then I shall return to the +company again,” Lukáshka replied reluctantly. +</p> + +<p> +“What, and see nothing of your betrothed?” +</p> + +<p> +“Just so—what is the good of looking at her? When you go on campaign ask in our +company for Lukáshka the Broad. But what a lot of boars there are in our parts! +I’ve killed two. I’ll take you.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, good-bye! Christ save you.” +</p> + +<p> +Lukáshka mounted his horse, and without calling on Maryánka, rode caracoling +down the street, where Nazárka was already awaiting him. +</p> + +<p> +“I say, shan’t we call round?” asked Nazárka, winking in the direction of +Yámka’s house. +</p> + +<p> +“That’s a good one!” said Lukáshka. “Here, take my horse to her and if I don’t +come soon give him some hay. I shall reach the company by the morning anyway.” +</p> + +<p> +“Hasn’t the cadet given you anything more?” +</p> + +<p> +“I am thankful to have paid him back with a dagger—he was going to ask for the +horse,” said Lukáshka, dismounting and handing over the horse to Nazárka. +</p> + +<p> +He darted into the yard past Olénin’s very window, and came up to the window of +the cornet’s hut. It was already quite dark. Maryánka, wearing only her smock, +was combing her hair preparing for bed. +</p> + +<p> +“It’s I—” whispered the Cossack. +</p> + +<p> +Maryánka’s look was severely indifferent, but her face suddenly brightened up +when she heard her name. She opened the window and leant out, frightened and +joyous. +</p> + +<p> +“What—what do you want?” she said. +</p> + +<p> +“Open!” uttered Lukáshka. “Let me in for a minute. I am so sick of waiting! +It’s awful!” +</p> + +<p> +He took hold of her head through the window and kissed her. +</p> + +<p> +“Really, do open!” +</p> + +<p> +“Why do you talk nonsense? I’ve told you I won’t! Have you come for long?” +</p> + +<p> +He did not answer but went on kissing her, and she did not ask again. +</p> + +<p> +“There, through the window one can’t even hug you properly,” said Lukáshka. +</p> + +<p> +“Maryánka dear!” came the voice of her mother, “who is that with you?” +</p> + +<p> +Lukáshka took off his cap, which might have been seen, and crouched down by the +window. +</p> + +<p> +“Go, be quick!” whispered Maryánka. +</p> + +<p> +“Lukáshka called round,” she answered; “he was asking for Daddy.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well then send him here!” +</p> + +<p> +“He’s gone; said he was in a hurry.” +</p> + +<p> +In fact, Lukáshka, stooping, as with big strides he passed under the windows, +ran out through the yard and towards Yámka’s house unseen by anyone but Olénin. +After drinking two bowls of <i>chikhir</i> he and Nazárka rode away to the +outpost. The night was warm, dark, and calm. They rode in silence, only the +footfall of their horses was heard. Lukáshka started a song about the Cossack, +Mingál, but stopped before he had finished the first verse, and after a pause, +turning to Nazárka, said: +</p> + +<p> +“I say, she wouldn’t let me in!” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh?” rejoined Nazárka. “I knew she wouldn’t. D’you know what Yámka told me? +The cadet has begun going to their house. Daddy Eróshka brags that he got a gun +from the cadet for getting him Maryánka.” +</p> + +<p> +“He lies, the old devil!” said Lukáshka, angrily. “She’s not such a girl. If he +does not look out I’ll wallop that old devil’s sides,” and he began his +favourite song: +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +“From the village of Izmáylov,<br/> +From the master’s favourite garden,<br/> +Once escaped a keen-eyed falcon.<br/> +Soon after him a huntsman came a-riding,<br/> +And he beckoned to the falcon that had strayed,<br/> +But the bright-eyed bird thus answered:<br/> +‘In gold cage you could not keep me,<br/> +On your hand you could not hold me,<br/> +So now I fly to blue seas far away.<br/> +There a white swan I will kill,<br/> +Of sweet swan-flesh have my fill.’” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap28"></a> Chapter XXVIII</h2> + +<p> +The betrothal was taking place in the cornet’s hut. Lukáshka had returned to +the village, but had not been to see Olénin, and Olénin had not gone to the +betrothal though he had been invited. He was sad as he had never been since he +settled in this Cossack village. He had seen Lukáshka earlier in the evening +and was worried by the question why Lukáshka was so cold towards him. Olénin +shut himself up in his hut and began writing in his diary as follows: +</p> + +<p> +“Many things have I pondered over lately and much have I changed,” wrote he, +“and I have come back to the copybook maxim: The one way to be happy is to +love, to love self-denyingly, to love everybody and everything; to spread a web +of love on all sides and to take all who come into it. In this way I caught +Vanyúsha, Daddy Eróshka, Lukáshka, and Maryánka.” +</p> + +<p> +As Olénin was finishing this sentence Daddy Eróshka entered the room. +</p> + +<p> +Eróshka was in the happiest frame of mind. A few evenings before this, Olénin +had gone to see him and had found him with a proud and happy face deftly +skinning the carcass of a boar with a small knife in the yard. The dogs (Lyam +his pet among them) were lying close by watching what he was doing and gently +wagging their tails. The little boys were respectfully looking at him through +the fence and not even teasing him as was their wont. His women neighbours, who +were as a rule not too gracious towards him, greeted him and brought him, one a +jug of <i>chikhir</i>, another some clotted cream, and a third a little flour. +The next day Eróshka sat in his store-room all covered with blood, and +distributed pounds of boar-flesh, taking in payment money from some and wine +from others. His face clearly expressed, “God has sent me luck. I have killed a +boar, so now I am wanted.” Consequently, he naturally began to drink, and had +gone on for four days never leaving the village. Besides which he had had +something to drink at the betrothal. +</p> + +<p> +He came to Olénin quite drunk: his face red, his beard tangled, but wearing a +new <i>beshmet</i> trimmed with gold braid; and he brought with him a +<i>balaláyka</i> which he had obtained beyond the river. He had long promised +Olénin this treat, and felt in the mood for it, so that he was sorry to find +Olénin writing. +</p> + +<p> +“Write on, write on, my lad,” he whispered, as if he thought that a spirit sat +between him and the paper and must not be frightened away, and he softly and +silently sat down on the floor. When Daddy Eróshka was drunk his favourite +position was on the floor. Olénin looked round, ordered some wine to be +brought, and continued to write. Eróshka found it dull to drink by himself and +he wished to talk. +</p> + +<p> +“I’ve been to the betrothal at the cornet’s. But there! They’re shwine!—Don’t +want them!—Have come to you.” +</p> + +<p> +“And where did you get your <i>balaláyka?</i>” asked Olénin, still writing. +</p> + +<p> +“I’ve been beyond the river and got it there, brother mine,” he answered, also +very quietly. “I’m a master at it. Tartar or Cossack, squire or soldiers’ +songs, any kind you please.” +</p> + +<p> +Olénin looked at him again, smiled, and went on writing. +</p> + +<p> +That smile emboldened the old man. +</p> + +<p> +“Come, leave off, my lad, leave off!” he said with sudden firmness. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, perhaps I will.” +</p> + +<p> +“Come, people have injured you but leave them alone, spit at them! Come, what’s +the use of writing and writing, what’s the good?” +</p> + +<p> +And he tried to mimic Olénin by tapping the floor with his thick fingers, and +then twisted his big face to express contempt. +</p> + +<p> +“What’s the good of writing quibbles. Better have a spree and show you’re a +man!” +</p> + +<p> +No other conception of writing found place in his head except that of legal +chicanery. +</p> + +<p> +Olénin burst out laughing and so did Eróshka. Then, jumping up from the floor, +the latter began to show off his skill on the <i>balaláyka</i> and to sing +Tartar songs. +</p> + +<p> +“Why write, my good fellow! You’d better listen to what I’ll sing to you. When +you’re dead you won’t hear any more songs. Make merry now!” +</p> + +<p> +First he sang a song of his own composing accompanied by a dance: +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +“Ah, dee, dee, dee, dee, dee, dim,<br/> +Say where did they last see him?<br/> +In a booth, at the fair,<br/> +He was selling pins, there.” +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +Then he sang a song he had learnt from his former sergeant-major: +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +“Deep I fell in love on Monday,<br/> +Tuesday nothing did but sigh,<br/> +Wednesday I popped the question,<br/> +Thursday waited her reply.<br/> +Friday, late, it came at last,<br/> +Then all hope for me was past!<br/> +Saturday my life to take<br/> +I determined like a man,<br/> +But for my salvation’s sake<br/> +Sunday morning changed my plan!” +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +Then he sang again: +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +“Oh dee, dee, dee, dee, dee, dim,<br/> +Say where did they last see him?” +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +And after that, winking, twitching his shoulders, and footing it to the tune, +he sang: +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +“I will kiss you and embrace,<br/> +Ribbons red twine round you;<br/> +And I’ll call you little Grace.<br/> +Oh, you little Grace now do<br/> +Tell me, do you love me true?” +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +And he became so excited that with a sudden dashing movement he started dancing +around the room accompanying himself the while. +</p> + +<p> +Songs like “Dee, dee, dee”—“gentlemen’s songs”—he sang for Olénin’s benefit, +but after drinking three more tumblers of <i>chikhir</i> he remembered old +times and began singing real Cossack and Tartar songs. In the midst of one of +his favourite songs his voice suddenly trembled and he ceased singing, and only +continued strumming on the <i>balaláyka</i>. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, my dear friend!” he said. +</p> + +<p> +The peculiar sound of his voice made Olénin look round. +</p> + +<p> +The old man was weeping. Tears stood in his eyes and one tear was running down +his cheek. +</p> + +<p> +“You are gone, my young days, and will never come back!” he said, blubbering +and halting. “Drink, why don’t you drink!” he suddenly shouted with a deafening +roar, without wiping away his tears. +</p> + +<p> +There was one Tartar song that specially moved him. It had few words, but its +charm lay in the sad refrain. “Ay day, dalalay!” Eróshka translated the words +of the song: “A youth drove his sheep from the <i>aoul</i> to the mountains: +the Russians came and burnt the <i>aoul</i>, they killed all the men and took +all the women into bondage. The youth returned from the mountains. Where the +<i>aoul</i> had stood was an empty space; his mother not there, nor his +brothers, nor his house; one tree alone was left standing. The youth sat +beneath the tree and wept. ‘Alone like thee, alone am I left,’” and Eróshka +began singing: “Ay day, dalalay!” and the old man repeated several times this +wailing, heart-rending refrain. +</p> + +<p> +When he had finished the refrain Eróshka suddenly seized a gun that hung on the +wall, rushed hurriedly out into the yard and fired off both barrels into the +air. Then again he began, more dolefully, his “Ay day, dalalay—ah, ah,” and +ceased. +</p> + +<p> +Olénin followed him into the porch and looked up into the starry sky in the +direction where the shots had flashed. In the cornet’s house there were lights +and the sound of voices. In the yard girls were crowding round the porch and +the windows, and running backwards and forwards between the hut and the +outhouse. Some Cossacks rushed out of the hut and could not refrain from +shouting, re-echoing the refrain of Daddy Eróshka’s song and his shots. +</p> + +<p> +“Why are you not at the betrothal?” asked Olénin. +</p> + +<p> +“Never mind them! Never mind them!” muttered the old man, who had evidently +been offended by something there. “Don’t like them, I don’t. Oh, those people! +Come back into the hut! Let them make merry by themselves and we’ll make merry +by ourselves.” +</p> + +<p> +Olénin went in. +</p> + +<p> +“And Lukáshka, is he happy? Won’t he come to see me?” he asked. +</p> + +<p> +“What, Lukáshka? They’ve lied to him and said I am getting his girl for you,” +whispered the old man. “But what’s the girl? She will be ours if we want her. +Give enough money—and she’s ours. I’ll fix it up for you. Really!” +</p> + +<p> +“No, Daddy, money can do nothing if she does not love me. You’d better not talk +like that!” +</p> + +<p> +“We are not loved, you and I. We are forlorn,” said Daddy Eróshka suddenly, and +again he began to cry. +</p> + +<p> +Listening to the old man’s talk Olénin had drunk more than usual. “So now my +Lukáshka is happy,” thought he; yet he felt sad. The old man had drunk so much +that evening that he fell down on the floor and Vanyúsha had to call soldiers +in to help, and spat as they dragged the old man out. He was so angry with the +old man for his bad behaviour that he did not even say a single French word. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap29"></a> Chapter XXIX</h2> + +<p> +It was August. For days the sky had been cloudless, the sun scorched unbearably +and from early morning the warm wind raised a whirl of hot sand from the +sand-drifts and from the road, and bore it in the air through the reeds, the +trees, and the village. The grass and the leaves on the trees were covered with +dust, the roads and dried-up salt marshes were baked so hard that they rang +when trodden on. The water had long since subsided in the Térek and rapidly +vanished and dried up in the ditches. The slimy banks of the pond near the +village were trodden bare by the cattle and all day long you could hear the +splashing of water and the shouting of girls and boys bathing. The sand-drifts +and the reeds were already drying up in the steppes, and the cattle, lowing, +ran into the fields in the day-time. The boars migrated into the distant +reed-beds and to the hills beyond the Térek. Mosquitoes and gnats swarmed in +thick clouds over the low lands and villages. The snow-peaks were hidden in +grey mist. The air was rarefied and smoky. It was said that <i>abreks</i> had +crossed the now shallow river and were prowling on this side of it. Every night +the sun set in a glowing red blaze. It was the busiest time of the year. The +villagers all swarmed in the melon-fields and the vineyards. The vineyards +thickly overgrown with twining verdure lay in cool, deep shade. Everywhere +between the broad translucent leaves, ripe, heavy, black clusters peeped out. +Along the dusty road from the vineyards the creaking carts moved slowly, heaped +up with black grapes. Clusters of them, crushed by the wheels, lay in the dirt. +Boys and girls in smocks stained with grape-juice, with grapes in their hands +and mouths, ran after their mothers. On the road you continually came across +tattered labourers with baskets of grapes on their powerful shoulders; Cossack +maidens, veiled with kerchiefs to their eyes, drove bullocks harnessed to carts +laden high with grapes. Soldiers who happened to meet these carts asked for +grapes, and the maidens, clambering up without stopping their carts, would take +an armful of grapes and drop them into the skirts of the soldiers’ coats. In +some homesteads they had already begun pressing the grapes; and the smell of +the emptied skins filled the air. One saw the blood-red troughs in the +pent-houses in the yards and Nogáy labourers with their trousers rolled up and +their legs stained with the juice. Grunting pigs gorged themselves with the +empty skins and rolled about in them. The flat roofs of the outhouses were all +spread over with the dark amber clusters drying in the sun. Daws and magpies +crowded round the roofs, picking the seeds and fluttering from one place to +another. +</p> + +<p> +The fruits of the year’s labour were being merrily gathered in, and this year +the fruit was unusually fine and plentiful. +</p> + +<p> +In the shady green vineyards amid a sea of vines, laughter, songs, merriment, +and the voices of women were to be heard on all sides, and glimpses of their +bright-coloured garments could be seen. +</p> + +<p> +Just at noon Maryánka was sitting in their vineyard in the shade of a +peach-tree, getting out the family dinner from under an unharnessed cart. +Opposite her, on a spread-out horse-cloth, sat the cornet (who had returned +from the school) washing his hands by pouring water on them from a little jug. +Her little brother, who had just come straight out of the pond, stood wiping +his face with his wide sleeves, and gazed anxiously at his sister and his +mother and breathed deeply, awaiting his dinner. The old mother, with her +sleeves rolled up over her strong sunburnt arms, was arranging grapes, dried +fish, and clotted cream on a little low, circular Tartar table. The cornet +wiped his hands, took off his cap, crossed himself, and moved nearer to the +table. The boy seized the jug and eagerly began to drink. The mother and +daughter crossed their legs under them and sat down by the table. Even in the +shade it was intolerably hot. The air above the vineyard smelt unpleasant: the +strong warm wind passing amid the branches brought no coolness, but only +monotonously bent the tops of the pear, peach, and mulberry trees with which +the vineyard was sprinkled. The cornet, having crossed himself once more, took +a little jug of <i>chikhir</i> that stood behind him covered with a vine-leaf, +and having had a drink from the mouth of the jug passed it to the old woman. He +had nothing on over his shirt, which was unfastened at the neck and showed his +shaggy muscular chest. His fine-featured cunning face looked cheerful; neither +in his attitude nor in his words was his usual wiliness to be seen; he was +cheerful and natural. +</p> + +<p> +“Shall we finish the bit beyond the shed tonight?” he asked, wiping his wet +beard. +</p> + +<p> +“We’ll manage it,” replied his wife, “if only the weather does not hinder us. +The Dëmkins have not half finished yet,” she added. “Only Ústenka is at work +there, wearing herself out.” +</p> + +<p> +“What can you expect of them?” said the old man proudly. +</p> + +<p> +“Here, have a drink, Maryánka dear!” said the old woman, passing the jug to the +girl. “God willing we’ll have enough to pay for the wedding feast,” she added. +</p> + +<p> +“That’s not yet awhile,” said the cornet with a slight frown. +</p> + +<p> +The girl hung her head. +</p> + +<p> +“Why shouldn’t we mention it?” said the old woman. “The affair is settled, and +the time is drawing near too.” +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t make plans beforehand,” said the cornet. “Now we have the harvest to get +in.” +</p> + +<p> +“Have you seen Lukáshka’s new horse?” asked the old woman. “That which Dmítri +Andréich Olénin gave him is gone — he’s exchanged it.” +</p> + +<p> +“No, I have not; but I spoke with the servant today,” said the cornet, “and he +said his master has again received a thousand rubles.” +</p> + +<p> +“Rolling in riches, in short,” said the old woman. +</p> + +<p> +The whole family felt cheerful and contented. +</p> + +<p> +The work was progressing successfully. The grapes were more abundant and finer +than they had expected. After dinner Maryánka threw some grass to the oxen, +folded her <i>beshmet</i> for a pillow, and lay down under the wagon on the +juicy down-trodden grass. She had on only a red kerchief over her head and a +faded blue print smock, yet she felt unbearably hot. Her face was burning, and +she did not know where to put her feet, her eyes were moist with sleepiness and +weariness, her lips parted involuntarily, and her chest heaved heavily and +deeply. </p> + +<p> +The busy time of year had begun a fortnight ago and the continuous heavy labour +had filled the girl’s life. At dawn she jumped up, washed her face with cold +water, wrapped herself in a shawl, and ran out barefoot to see to the cattle. +Then she hurriedly put on her shoes and her <i>beshmet</i> and, taking a small +bundle of bread, she harnessed the bullocks and drove away to the vineyards for +the whole day. There she cut the grapes and carried the baskets with only an +hour’s interval for rest, and in the evening she returned to the village, +bright and not tired, dragging the bullocks by a rope or driving them with a +long stick. After attending to the cattle, she took some sunflower seeds in the +wide sleeve of her smock and went to the corner of the street to crack them and +have some fun with the other girls. But as soon as it was dusk she returned +home, and after having supper with her parents and her brother in the dark +outhouse, she went into the hut, healthy and free from care, and climbed onto +the oven, where half drowsing she listened to their lodger’s conversation. As +soon as he went away she would throw herself down on her bed and sleep soundly +and quietly till morning. And so it went on day after day. She had not seen +Lukáshka since the day of their betrothal, but calmly awaited the wedding. She +had got used to their lodger and felt his intent looks with pleasure. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap30"></a> Chapter XXX</h2> + +<p> +Although there was no escape from the heat and the mosquitoes swarmed in the +cool shadow of the wagons, and her little brother tossing about beside her kept +pushing her, Maryánka having drawn her kerchief over her head was just falling +asleep, when suddenly their neighbour Ústenka came running towards her and, +diving under the wagon, lay down beside her. +</p> + +<p> +“Sleep, girls, sleep!” said Ústenka, making herself comfortable under the +wagon. “Wait a bit,” she exclaimed, “this won’t do!” +</p> + +<p> +She jumped up, plucked some green branches, and stuck them through the wheels +on both sides of the wagon and hung her <i>beshmet</i> over them. +</p> + +<p> +“Let me in,” she shouted to the little boy as she again crept under the wagon. +“Is this the place for a Cossack—with the girls? Go away!” +</p> + +<p> +When alone under the wagon with her friend, Ústenka suddenly put both her arms +round her, and clinging close to her began kissing her cheeks and neck. +</p> + +<p> +“Darling, sweetheart,” she kept repeating, between bursts of shrill, clear +laughter. +</p> + +<p> +“Why, you’ve learnt it from Grandad,” said Maryánka, struggling. “Stop it!” +</p> + +<p> +And they both broke into such peals of laughter that Maryánka’s mother shouted +to them to be quiet. +</p> + +<p> +“Are you jealous?” asked Ústenka in a whisper. +</p> + +<p> +“What humbug! Let me sleep. What have you come for?” +</p> + +<p> +But Ústenka kept on, “I say! But I wanted to tell you such a thing.” +</p> + +<p> +Maryánka raised herself on her elbow and arranged the kerchief which had +slipped off. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, what is it?” +</p> + +<p> +“I know something about your lodger!” +</p> + +<p> +“There’s nothing to know,” said Maryánka. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, you rogue of a girl!” said Ústenka, nudging her with her elbow and +laughing. “Won’t tell anything. Does he come to you?” +</p> + +<p> +“He does. What of that?” said Maryánka with a sudden blush. +</p> + +<p> +“Now I’m a simple lass. I tell everybody. Why should I pretend?” said Ústenka, +and her bright rosy face suddenly became pensive. “Whom do I hurt? I love him, +that’s all about it.” +</p> + +<p> +“Grandad, do you mean?” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, yes!” +</p> + +<p> +“And the sin?” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, Maryánka! When is one to have a good time if not while one’s still free? +When I marry a Cossack I shall bear children and shall have cares. There now, +when you get married to Lukáshka not even a thought of joy will enter your +head: children will come, and work!” +</p> + +<p> +“Well? Some who are married live happily. It makes no difference!” Maryánka +replied quietly. +</p> + +<p> +“Do tell me just this once what has passed between you and Lukáshka?” +</p> + +<p> +“What has passed? A match was proposed. Father put it off for a year, but now +it’s been settled and they’ll marry us in autumn.” +</p> + +<p> +“But what did he say to you?” +</p> + +<p> +Maryánka smiled. +</p> + +<p> +“What should he say? He said he loved me. He kept asking me to come to the +vineyards with him.” +</p> + +<p> +“Just see what pitch! But you didn’t go, did you? And what a dare-devil he has +become: the first among the braves. He makes merry out there in the army too! +The other day our Kírka came home; he says: ‘What a horse Lukáshka’s got in +exchange!’ But all the same I expect he frets after you. And what else did he +say?” +</p> + +<p> +“Must you know everything?” said Maryánka laughing. “One night he came to my +window tipsy, and asked me to let him in.” +</p> + +<p> +“And you didn’t let him?” +</p> + +<p> +“Let him, indeed! Once I have said a thing I keep to it firm as a rock,” +answered Maryánka seriously. +</p> + +<p> +“A fine fellow! If he wanted her, no girl would refuse him.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, let him go to the others,” replied Maryánka proudly. +</p> + +<p> +“You don’t pity him?” +</p> + +<p> +“I do pity him, but I’ll have no nonsense. It is wrong.” +</p> + +<p> +Ústenka suddenly dropped her head on her friend’s breast, seized hold of her, +and shook with smothered laughter. “You silly fool!” she exclaimed, quite out +of breath. “You don’t want to be happy,” and she began tickling Maryánka. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, leave off!” said Maryánka, screaming and laughing. “You’ve crushed +Lazútka.” +</p> + +<p> +“Hark at those young devils! Quite frisky! Not tired yet!” came the old woman’s +sleepy voice from the wagon. +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t want happiness,” repeated Ústenka in a whisper, insistently. “But you +are lucky, that you are! How they love you! You are so crusty, and yet they +love you. Ah, if I were in your place I’d soon turn the lodger’s head! I +noticed him when you were at our house. He was ready to eat you with his eyes. +What things Grandad has given me! And yours they say is the richest of the +Russians. His orderly says they have serfs of their own.” +</p> + +<p> +Maryánka raised herself, and after thinking a moment, smiled. +</p> + +<p> +“Do you know what he once told me: the lodger I mean?” she said, biting a bit +of grass. “He said, ‘I’d like to be Lukáshka the Cossack, or your brother +Lazútka—.’ What do you think he meant?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, just chattering what came into his head,” answered Ústenka. “What does +mine not say! Just as if he was possessed!” +</p> + +<p> +Maryánka dropped her hand on her folded <i>beshmet</i>, threw her arm over +Ústenka’s shoulder, and shut her eyes. +</p> + +<p> +“He wanted to come and work in the vineyard today: father invited him,” she +said, and after a short silence she fell asleep. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap31"></a> Chapter XXXI</h2> + +<p> +The sun had come out from behind the pear-tree that had shaded the wagon, and +even through the branches that Ústenka had fixed up it scorched the faces of +the sleeping girls. Maryánka woke up and began arranging the kerchief on her +head. Looking about her, beyond the pear-tree she noticed their lodger, who +with his gun on his shoulder stood talking to her father. She nudged Ústenka +and smilingly pointed him out to her. +</p> + +<p> +“I went yesterday and didn’t find a single one,” Olénin was saying as he looked +about uneasily, not seeing Maryánka through the branches. +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, you should go out there in that direction, go right as by compasses, there +in a disused vineyard denominated as the Waste, hares are always to be found,” +said the cornet, having at once changed his manner of speech. +</p> + +<p> +“A fine thing to go looking for hares in these busy times! You had better come +and help us, and do some work with the girls,” the old woman said merrily. “Now +then, girls, up with you!” she cried. +</p> + +<p> +Maryánka and Ústenka under the cart were whispering and could hardly restrain +their laughter. +</p> + +<p> +Since it had become known that Olénin had given a horse worth fifty rubles to +Lukáshka, his hosts had become more amiable and the cornet in particular saw +with pleasure his daughter’s growing intimacy with Olénin. +</p> + +<p> +“But I don’t know how to do the work,” replied Olénin, trying not to look +through the green branches under the wagon where he had now noticed Maryánka’s +blue smock and red kerchief. +</p> + +<p> +“Come, I’ll give you some peaches,” said the old woman. +</p> + +<p> +“It’s only according to the ancient Cossack hospitality. It’s her old woman’s +silliness,” said the cornet, explaining and apparently correcting his wife’s +words. “In Russia, I expect, it’s not so much peaches as pineapple jam and +preserves you have been accustomed to eat at your pleasure.” +</p> + +<p> +“So you say hares are to be found in the disused vineyard?” asked Olénin. “I +will go there,” and throwing a hasty glance through the green branches he +raised his cap and disappeared between the regular rows of green vines. +</p> + +<p> +The sun had already sunk behind the fence of the vineyards, and its broken rays +glittered through the translucent leaves when Olénin returned to his host’s +vineyard. The wind was falling and a cool freshness was beginning to spread +around. By some instinct Olénin recognized from afar Maryánka’s blue smock +among the rows of vine, and, picking grapes on his way, he approached her. His +highly excited dog also now and then seized a low-hanging cluster of grapes in +his slobbering mouth. Maryánka, her face flushed, her sleeves rolled up, and +her kerchief down below her chin, was rapidly cutting the heavy clusters and +laying them in a basket. Without letting go of the vine she had hold of, she +stopped to smile pleasantly at him and resumed her work. Olénin drew near and +threw his gun behind his back to have his hands free. “Where are your people? +May God aid you! Are you alone?” he meant to say but did not say, and only +raised his cap in silence. +</p> + +<p> +He was ill at ease alone with Maryánka, but as if purposely to torment himself +he went up to her. +</p> + +<p> +“You’ll be shooting the women with your gun like that,” said Maryánka. +</p> + +<p> +“No, I shan’t shoot them.” +</p> + +<p> +They were both silent. +</p> + +<p> +Then after a pause she said: “You should help me.” +</p> + +<p> +He took out his knife and began silently to cut off the clusters. He reached +from under the leaves low down a thick bunch weighing about three pounds, the +grapes of which grew so close that they flattened each other for want of space. +He showed it to Maryánka. +</p> + +<p> +“Must they all be cut? Isn’t this one too green?” +</p> + +<p> +“Give it here.” +</p> + +<p> +Their hands touched. Olénin took her hand, and she looked at him smiling. +</p> + +<p> +“Are you going to be married soon?” he asked. +</p> + +<p> +She did not answer, but turned away with a stern look. +</p> + +<p> +“Do you love Lukáshka?” +</p> + +<p> +“What’s that to you?” +</p> + +<p> +“I envy him!” +</p> + +<p> +“Very likely!” +</p> + +<p> +“No really. You are so beautiful!” +</p> + +<p> +And he suddenly felt terribly ashamed of having said it, so commonplace did the +words seem to him. He flushed, lost control of himself, and seized both her +hands. +</p> + +<p> +“Whatever I am, I’m not for you. Why do you make fun of me?” replied Maryánka, +but her look showed how certainly she knew he was not making fun. +</p> + +<p> +“Making fun? If you only knew how I—” +</p> + +<p> +The words sounded still more commonplace, they accorded still less with what he +felt, but yet he continued, “I don’t know what I would not do for you—” +</p> + +<p> +“Leave me alone, you pitch!” +</p> + +<p> +But her face, her shining eyes, her swelling bosom, her shapely legs, said +something quite different. It seemed to him that she understood how petty were +all things he had said, but that she was superior to such considerations. It +seemed to him she had long known all he wished and was not able to tell her, +but wanted to hear how he would say it. “And how can she help knowing,” he +thought, “since I only want to tell her all that she herself is? But she does +not wish to understand, does not wish to reply.” +</p> + +<p> +“Hullo!” suddenly came Ústenka’s high voice from behind the vine at no great +distance, followed by her shrill laugh. “Come and help me, Dmítri Andréich. I +am all alone,” she cried, thrusting her round, naïve little face through the +vines. +</p> + +<p> +Olénin did not answer nor move from his place. +</p> + +<p> +Maryánka went on cutting and continually looked up at Olénin. He was about to +say something, but stopped, shrugged his shoulders and, having jerked up his +gun, walked out of the vineyard with rapid strides. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap32"></a> Chapter XXXII</h2> + +<p> +He stopped once or twice, listening to the ringing laughter of Maryánka and +Ústenka who, having come together, were shouting something. Olénin spent the +whole evening hunting in the forest and returned home at dusk without having +killed anything. When crossing the road he noticed her open the door of the +outhouse, and her blue smock showed through it. He called to Vanyúsha very loud +so as to let her know that he was back, and then sat down in the porch in his +usual place. His hosts now returned from the vineyard; they came out of the +outhouse and into their hut, but did not ask him in. Maryánka went twice out of +the gate. Once in the twilight it seemed to him that she was looking at him. He +eagerly followed her every movement, but could not make up his mind to approach +her. When she disappeared into the hut he left the porch and began pacing up +and down the yard, but Maryánka did not come out again. Olénin spent the whole +sleepless night out in the yard listening to every sound in his hosts’ hut. He +heard them talking early in the evening, heard them having their supper and +pulling out their cushions, and going to bed; he heard Maryánka laughing at +something, and then heard everything growing gradually quiet. +</p> + +<p> +The cornet and his wife talked a while in whispers, and someone was breathing. +Olénin re-entered his hut. Vanyúsha lay asleep in his clothes. Olénin envied +him, and again went out to pace the yard, always expecting something, but no +one came, no one moved, and he only heard the regular breathing of three +people. He knew Maryánka’s breathing and listened to it and to the beating of +his own heart. In the village everything was quiet. The waning moon rose late, +and the deep-breathing cattle in the yard became more visible as they lay down +and slowly rose. Olénin angrily asked himself, “What is it I want?” but could +not tear himself away from the enchantment of the night. Suddenly he thought he +distinctly heard the floor creak and the sound of footsteps in his hosts’ hut. +He rushed to the door, but all was silent again except for the sound of regular +breathing, and in the yard the buffalo-cow, after a deep sigh, again moved, +rose on her foreknees and then on her feet, swished her tail, and something +splashed steadily on the dry clay ground; then she lay down again in the dim +moonlight. He asked himself: “What am I to do?” and definitely decided to go to +bed, but again he heard a sound, and in his imagination there arose the image +of Maryánka coming out into this moonlit misty night, and again he rushed to +her window and again heard the sound of footsteps. Not till just before dawn +did he go up to her window and push at the shutter and then run to the door, +and this time he really heard Maryánka’s deep breathing and her footsteps. He +took hold of the latch and knocked. The floor hardly creaked under the bare +cautious footsteps which approached the door. The latch clicked, the door +creaked, and he noticed a faint smell of marjoram and pumpkin, and Maryánka’s +whole figure appeared in the doorway. He saw her only for an instant in the +moonlight. She slammed the door and, muttering something, ran lightly back +again. Olénin began rapping softly but nothing responded. He ran to the window +and listened. Suddenly he was startled by a shrill, squeaky man’s voice. +</p> + +<p> +“Fine!” exclaimed a rather small young Cossack in a white cap, coming across +the yard close to Olénin. “I saw ... fine!” +</p> + +<p> +Olénin recognized Nazárka, and was silent, not knowing what to do or say. +</p> + +<p> +“Fine! I’ll go and tell them at the office, and I’ll tell her father! That’s a +fine cornet’s daughter! One’s not enough for her.” +</p> + +<p> +“What do you want of me, what are you after?” uttered Olénin. +</p> + +<p> +“Nothing; only I’ll tell them at the office.” +</p> + +<p> +Nazárka spoke very loud, and evidently did so intentionally, adding: “Just see +what a clever cadet!” +</p> + +<p> +Olénin trembled and grew pale. +</p> + +<p> +“Come here, here!” He seized the Cossack firmly by the arm and drew him towards +his hut. +</p> + +<p> +“Nothing happened, she did not let me in, and I too mean no harm. She is an +honest girl—” +</p> + +<p> +“Eh, discuss—” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, but all the same I’ll give you something now. Wait a bit!” +</p> + +<p> +Nazárka said nothing. Olénin ran into his hut and brought out ten rubles, which +he gave to the Cossack. +</p> + +<p> +“Nothing happened, but still I was to blame, so I give this!—Only for God’s +sake don’t let anyone know, for nothing happened...” +</p> + +<p> +“I wish you joy,” said Nazárka laughing, and went away. +</p> + +<p> +Nazárka had come to the village that night at Lukáshka’s bidding to find a +place to hide a stolen horse, and now, passing by on his way home, had heard +the sound of footsteps. When he returned next morning to his company he bragged +to his chum, and told him how cleverly he had got ten rubles. Next morning +Olénin met his hosts and they knew nothing about the events of the night. He +did not speak to Maryánka, and she only laughed a little when she looked at +him. Next night he also passed without sleep, vainly wandering about the yard. +The day after he purposely spent shooting, and in the evening he went to see +Belétski to escape from his own thoughts. He was afraid of himself, and +promised himself not to go to his hosts’ hut any more. +</p> + +<p> +That night he was roused by the sergeant-major. His company was ordered to +start at once on a raid. Olénin was glad this had happened, and thought he +would not again return to the village. +</p> + +<p> +The raid lasted four days. The commander, who was a relative of Olénin’s, +wished to see him and offered to let him remain with the staff, but this Olénin +declined. He found that he could not live away from the village, and asked to +be allowed to return to it. For having taken part in the raid he received a +soldier’s cross, which he had formerly greatly desired. Now he was quite +indifferent about it, and even more indifferent about his promotion, the order +for which had still not arrived. Accompanied by Vanyúsha he rode back to the +cordon without any accident several hours in advance of the rest of the +company. He spent the whole evening in his porch watching Maryánka, and he +again walked about the yard, without aim or thought, all night. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap33"></a> Chapter XXXIII</h2> + +<p> +It was late when he awoke the next day. His hosts were no longer in. He did not +go shooting, but now took up a book, and now went out into the porch, and now +again re-entered the hut and lay down on the bed. Vanyúsha thought he was ill. +</p> + +<p> +Towards evening Olénin got up, resolutely began writing, and wrote on till late +at night. He wrote a letter, but did not post it because he felt that no one +would have understood what he wanted to say, and besides it was not necessary +that anyone but himself should understand it. +</p> + +<p> +This is what he wrote: +</p> + +<p> +“I receive letters of condolence from Russia. They are afraid that I shall +perish, buried in these wilds. They say about me: ‘He will become coarse; he +will be behind the times in everything; he will take to drink, and who knows +but that he may marry a Cossack girl.’ It was not for nothing, they say, that +Ermólov declared: ‘Anyone serving in the Caucasus for ten years either becomes +a confirmed drunkard or marries a loose woman.’ How terrible! Indeed it won’t +do for me to ruin myself when I might have the great happiness of even becoming +the Countess B——’s husband, or a Court chamberlain, or a <i>Maréchal de +noblesse</i> of my district. Oh, how repulsive and pitiable you all seem to me! +You do not know what happiness is and what life is! One must taste life once in +all its natural beauty, must see and understand what I see every day before +me—those eternally unapproachable snowy peaks, and a majestic woman in that +primitive beauty in which the first woman must have come from her creator’s +hands—and then it becomes clear who is ruining himself and who is living truly +or falsely—you or I. If you only knew how despicable and pitiable you, in your +delusions, seem to me! When I picture to myself—in place of my hut, my forests, +and my love—those drawing-rooms, those women with their pomatum-greased hair +eked out with false curls, those unnaturally grimacing lips, those hidden, +feeble, distorted limbs, and that chatter of obligatory drawing-room +conversation which has no right to the name—I feel unendurably revolted. I then +see before me those obtuse faces, those rich eligible girls whose looks seem to +say: ‘It’s all right, you may come near though I am rich and eligible’—and that +arranging and rearranging of seats, that shameless match-making and that +eternal tittle-tattle and pretence; those rules—with whom to shake hands, to +whom only to nod, with whom to converse (and all this done deliberately with a +conviction of its inevitability), that continual ennui in the blood passing on +from generation to generation. Try to understand or believe just this one +thing: you need only see and comprehend what truth and beauty are, and all that +you now say and think and all your wishes for me and for yourselves will fly to +atoms! +</p> + +<p> +“Happiness is being with nature, seeing her, and conversing with her. ‘He +may even (God forbid) marry a common Cossack girl, and be quite lost socially’ +I can imagine them saying of me with sincere pity! Yet the one thing I desire +is to be quite ‘lost’ in your sense of the word. I wish to marry a Cossack +girl, and dare not because it would be a height of happiness of which I am +unworthy. +</p> + +<p> +“Three months have passed since I first saw the Cossack girl, Maryánka. The +views and prejudices of the world I had left were still fresh in me. I did not +then believe that I could love that woman. I delighted in her beauty just as I +delighted in the beauty of the mountains and the sky, nor could I help +delighting in her, for she is as beautiful as they. I found that the sight of +her beauty had become a necessity of my life and I began asking myself whether +I did not love her. But I could find nothing within myself at all like love as +I had imagined it to be. Mine was not the restlessness of loneliness and desire +for marriage, nor was it platonic, still less a carnal love such as I have +experienced. I needed only to see her, to hear her, to know that she was +near—and if I was not happy, I was at peace. +</p> + +<p> +“After an evening gathering at which I met her and touched her, I felt that +between that woman and myself there existed an indissoluble though +unacknowledged bond against which I could not struggle, yet I did struggle. I +asked myself: ‘Is it possible to love a woman who will never understand the +profoundest interests of my life? Is it possible to love a woman simply for her +beauty, to love the statue of a woman?’ But I was already in love with her, +though I did not yet trust to my feelings. +</p> + +<p> +“After that evening when I first spoke to her our relations changed. Before +that she had been to me an extraneous but majestic object of external nature: +but since then she has become a human being. I began to meet her, to talk to +her, and sometimes to go to work for her father and to spend whole evenings +with them, and in this intimate intercourse she remained still in my eyes just +as pure, inaccessible, and majestic. She always responded with equal calm, +pride, and cheerful equanimity. Sometimes she was friendly, but generally her +every look, every word, and every movement expressed equanimity—not +contemptuous, but crushing and bewitching. Every day with a feigned smile on my +lips I tried to play a part, and with torments of passion and desire in my +heart I spoke banteringly to her. She saw that I was dissembling, but looked +straight at me cheerfully and simply. This position became unbearable. I wished +not to deceive her but to tell her all I thought and felt. I was extremely +agitated. We were in the vineyard when I began to tell her of my love, in words +I am now ashamed to remember. I am ashamed because I ought not to have dared to +speak so to her because she stood far above such words and above the feeling +they were meant to express. I said no more, but from that day my position has +been intolerable. I did not wish to demean myself by continuing our former +flippant relations, and at the same time I felt that I had not yet reached the +level of straight and simple relations with her. I asked myself despairingly, +‘What am I to do?’ In foolish dreams I imagined her now as my mistress and now +as my wife, but rejected both ideas with disgust. To make her a wanton woman +would be dreadful. It would be murder. To turn her into a fine lady, the wife +of Dmítri Andréich Olénin, like a Cossack woman here who is married to one of +our officers, would be still worse. Now could I turn Cossack like Lukáshka, and +steal horses, get drunk on <i>chikhir</i>, sing rollicking songs, kill people, +and when drunk climb in at her window for the night without a thought of who +and what I am, it would be different: then we might understand one another and +I might be happy. +</p> + +<p> +“I tried to throw myself into that kind of life but was still more conscious of +my own weakness and artificiality. I cannot forget myself and my complex, +distorted past, and my future appears to me still more hopeless. Every day I +have before me the distant snowy mountains and this majestic, happy woman. But +not for me is the only happiness possible in the world; I cannot have this +woman! What is most terrible and yet sweetest in my condition is that I feel +that I understand her but that she will never understand me; not because she is +inferior: on the contrary she ought not to understand me. She is happy, she is +like nature: consistent, calm, and self-contained; and I, a weak distorted +being, want her to understand my deformity and my torments! I have not slept at +night, but have aimlessly passed under her windows not rendering account to +myself of what was happening to me. On the 18th our company started on a raid, +and I spent three days away from the village. I was sad and apathetic, the +usual songs, cards, drinking-bouts, and talk of rewards in the regiment, were +more repulsive to me than usual. Yesterday I returned home and saw her, my hut. +Daddy Eróshka, and the snowy mountains, from my porch, and was seized by such a +strong, new feeling of joy that I understood it all. I love this woman; I feel +real love for the first and only time in my life. I know what has befallen me. +I do not fear to be degraded by this feeling, I am not ashamed of my love, I am +proud of it. It is not my fault that I love. It has come about against my will. +I tried to escape from my love by self-renunciation, and tried to devise a joy +in the Cossack Lukáshka’s and Maryánka’s love, but thereby only stirred up my +own love and jealousy. This is not the ideal, the so-called exalted love which +I have known before; not that sort of attachment in which you admire your own +love and feel that the source of your emotion is within yourself and do +everything yourself. I have felt that too. It is still less a desire for +enjoyment: it is something different. Perhaps in her I love nature: the +personification of all that is beautiful in nature; but yet I am not acting by +my own will, but some elemental force loves through me; the whole of God’s +world, all nature, presses this love into my soul and says, ‘Love her.’ I love +her not with my mind or my imagination, but with my whole being. Loving her I +feel myself to be an integral part of all God’s joyous world. I wrote before +about the new convictions to which my solitary life had brought me, but no one +knows with what labour they shaped themselves within me and with what joy I +realized them and saw a new way of life opening out before me; nothing was +dearer to me than those convictions... Well! ... love has come and neither they +nor any regrets for them remain! It is even difficult for me to believe that I +could prize such a one-sided, cold, and abstract state of mind. Beauty came and +scattered to the winds all that laborious inward toil, and no regret remains +for what has vanished! Self-renunciation is all nonsense and absurdity! That is +pride, a refuge from well-merited unhappiness, and salvation from the envy of +others’ happiness: ‘Live for others, and do good!’—Why? when in my soul there +is only love for myself and the desire to love her and to live her life with +her? Not for others, not for Lukáshka, I now desire happiness. I do not now +love those others. Formerly I should have told myself that this is wrong. I +should have tormented myself with the questions: What will become of her, of +me, and of Lukáshka? Now I don’t care. I do not live my own life, there is +something stronger than me which directs me. I suffer; but formerly I was dead +and only now do I live. Today I will go to their house and tell her +everything.” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap34"></a> Chapter XXXIV</h2> + +<p> +Late that evening, after writing this letter, Olénin went to his hosts’ hut. +The old woman was sitting on a bench behind the oven unwinding cocoons. +Maryánka with her head uncovered sat sewing by the light of a candle. On seeing +Olénin she jumped up, took her kerchief and stepped to the oven. +</p> + +<p> +“Maryánka dear,” said her mother, “won’t you sit here with me a bit?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, I’m bareheaded,” she replied, and sprang up on the oven. +</p> + +<p> +Olénin could only see a knee, and one of her shapely legs hanging down from the +oven. He treated the old woman to tea. She treated her guest to clotted cream +which she sent Maryánka to fetch. But having put a plateful on the table +Maryánka again sprang on the oven from whence Olénin felt her eyes upon him. +They talked about household matters. Granny Ulítka became animated and went +into raptures of hospitality. She brought Olénin preserved grapes and a grape +tart and some of her best wine, and pressed him to eat and drink with the rough +yet proud hospitality of country folk, only found among those who produce their +bread by the labour of their own hands. +</p> + +<p> +The old woman, who had at first struck Olénin so much by her rudeness, now +often touched him by her simple tenderness towards her daughter. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, we need not offend the Lord by grumbling! We have enough of everything, +thank God. We have pressed sufficient <i>chikhir</i> and have preserved and +shall sell three or four barrels of grapes and have enough left to drink. Don’t +be in a hurry to leave us. We will make merry together at the wedding.” +</p> + +<p> +“And when is the wedding to be?” asked Olénin, feeling his blood suddenly rush +to his face while his heart beat irregularly and painfully. +</p> + +<p> +He heard a movement on the oven and the sound of seeds being cracked. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, you know, it ought to be next week. We are quite ready,” replied the old +woman, as simply and quietly as though Olénin did not exist. “I have prepared +and have procured everything for Maryánka. We will give her away properly. Only +there’s one thing not quite right. Our Lukáshka has been running rather wild. +He has been too much on the spree! He’s up to tricks! The other day a Cossack +came here from his company and said he had been to Nogáy.” +</p> + +<p> +“He must mind he does not get caught,” said Olénin. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, that’s what I tell him. ‘Mind, Lukáshka, don’t you get into mischief. +Well, of course, a young fellow naturally wants to cut a dash. But there’s a +time for everything. Well, you’ve captured or stolen something and killed an +<i>abrek!</i> Well, you’re a fine fellow! But now you should live quietly for a +bit, or else there’ll be trouble.’” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, I saw him a time or two in the division, he was always merry-making. He +has sold another horse,” said Olénin, and glanced towards the oven. A pair of +large, dark, and hostile eyes glittered as they gazed severely at him. +</p> + +<p> +He became ashamed of what he had said. “What of it? He does no one any harm,” +suddenly remarked Maryánka. “He makes merry with his own money,” and lowering +her legs she jumped down from the oven and went out banging the door. +</p> + +<p> +Olénin followed her with his eyes as long as she was in the hut, and then +looked at the door and waited, understanding nothing of what Granny Ulítka was +telling him. +</p> + +<p> +A few minutes later some visitors arrived: an old man, Granny Ulítka’s brother, +with Daddy Eróshka, and following them came Maryánka and Ústenka. +</p> + +<p> +“Good evening,” squeaked Ústenka. “Still on holiday?” she added, turning to +Olénin. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, still on holiday,” he replied, and felt, he did not know why, ashamed and +ill at ease. +</p> + +<p> +He wished to go away but could not. It also seemed to him impossible to remain +silent. The old man helped him by asking for a drink, and they had a drink. +Olénin drank with Eróshka, with the other Cossack, and again with Eróshka, and +the more he drank the heavier was his heart. But the two old men grew merry. +The girls climbed onto the oven, where they sat whispering and looking at the +men, who drank till it was late. Olénin did not talk, but drank more than the +others. The Cossacks were shouting. The old woman would not let them have any +more <i>chikhir</i>, and at last turned them out. The girls laughed at Daddy +Eróshka, and it was past ten when they all went out into the porch. The old men +invited themselves to finish their merry-making at Olénin’s. Ústenka ran off +home and Eróshka led the old Cossack to Vanyúsha. The old woman went out to +tidy up the shed. Maryánka remained alone in the hut. Olénin felt fresh and +joyous, as if he had only just woke up. He noticed everything, and having let +the old men pass ahead he turned back to the hut where Maryánka was preparing +for bed. He went up to her and wished to say something, but his voice broke. +She moved away from him, sat down cross-legged on her bed in the corner, and +looked at him silently with wild and frightened eyes. She was evidently afraid +of him. Olénin felt this. He felt sorry and ashamed of himself, and at the same +time proud and pleased that he aroused even that feeling in her. +</p> + +<p> +“Maryánka!” he said. “Will you never take pity on me? I can’t tell you how I +love you.” +</p> + +<p> +She moved still farther away. +</p> + +<p> +“Just hear how the wine is speaking! ... You’ll get nothing from me!” +</p> + +<p> +“No, it is not the wine. Don’t marry Lukáshka. I will marry you.” (“What am I +saying,” he thought as he uttered these words. “Shall I be able to say the same +tomorrow?” “Yes, I shall, I am sure I shall, and I will repeat them now,” +replied an inner voice.) +</p> + +<p> +“Will you marry me?” +</p> + +<p> +She looked at him seriously and her fear seemed to have passed. +</p> + +<p> +“Maryánka, I shall go out of my mind! I am not myself. I will do whatever you +command,” and madly tender words came from his lips of their own accord. +</p> + +<p> +“Now then, what are you drivelling about?” she interrupted, suddenly seizing +the arm he was stretching towards her. She did not push his arm away but +pressed it firmly with her strong hard fingers. “Do gentlemen marry Cossack +girls? Go away!” +</p> + +<p> +“But will you? Everything...” +</p> + +<p> +“And what shall we do with Lukáshka?” said she, laughing. +</p> + +<p> +He snatched away the arm she was holding and firmly embraced her young body, +but she sprang away like a fawn and ran barefoot into the porch: Olénin came to +his senses and was terrified at himself. He again felt himself inexpressibly +vile compared to her, yet not repenting for an instant of what he had said he +went home, and without even glancing at the old men who were drinking in his +room he lay down and fell asleep more soundly than he had done for a long time. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap35"></a> Chapter XXXV</h2> + +<p> +The next day was a holiday. In the evening all the villagers, their holiday +clothes shining in the sunset, were out in the street. That season more wine +than usual had been produced, and the people were now free from their labours. +In a month the Cossacks were to start on a campaign and in many families +preparations were being made for weddings. +</p> + +<p> +Most of the people were standing in the square in front of the Cossack +Government Office and near the two shops, in one of which cakes and pumpkin +seeds were sold, in the other kerchiefs and cotton prints. On the +earth-embankment of the office-building sat or stood the old men in sober grey, +or black coats without gold trimmings or any kind of ornament. They conversed +among themselves quietly in measured tones, about the harvest, about the young +folk, about village affairs, and about old times, looking with dignified +equanimity at the younger generation. Passing by them, the women and girls +stopped and bent their heads. The young Cossacks respectfully slackened their +pace and raised their caps, holding them for a while over their heads. The old +men then stopped speaking. Some of them watched the passers-by severely, others +kindly, and in their turn slowly took off their caps and put them on again. +</p> + +<p> +The Cossack girls had not yet started dancing their <i>khorovóds</i>, but having +gathered in groups, in their bright coloured <i>beshmets</i> with white +kerchiefs on their heads pulled down to their eyes, they sat either on the +ground or on the earth-banks about the huts sheltered from the oblique rays of +the sun, and laughed and chattered in their ringing voices. Little boys and +girls playing in the square sent their balls high up into the clear sky, and +ran about squealing and shouting. The half-grown girls had started dancing +their <i>khorovóds</i>, and were timidly singing in their thin shrill voices. +Clerks, lads not in the service, or home for the holiday, bright-faced and +wearing smart white or new red Circassian gold-trimmed coats, went about arm in +arm in twos or threes from one group of women or girls to another, and stopped +to joke and chat with the Cossack girls. The Armenian shopkeeper, in a +gold-trimmed coat of fine blue cloth, stood at the open door through which +piles of folded bright-coloured kerchiefs were visible and, conscious of his +own importance and with the pride of an Oriental tradesman, waited for +customers. Two red-bearded, barefooted Chéchens, who had come from beyond the +Térek to see the fête, sat on their heels outside the house of a friend, +negligently smoking their little pipes and occasionally spitting, watching the +villagers and exchanging remarks with one another in their rapid guttural +speech. Occasionally a workaday-looking soldier in an old overcoat passed +across the square among the bright-clad girls. Here and there the songs of +tipsy Cossacks who were merry-making could already be heard. All the huts were +closed; the porches had been scrubbed clean the day before. Even the old women +were out in the street, which was everywhere sprinkled with pumpkin and melon +seed-shells. The air was warm and still, the sky deep and clear. Beyond the +roofs the dead-white mountain range, which seemed very near, was turning rosy +in the glow of the evening sun. Now and then from the other side of the river +came the distant roar of a cannon, but above the village, mingling with one +another, floated all sorts of merry holiday sounds. +</p> + +<p> +Olénin had been pacing the yard all that morning hoping to see Maryánka. But +she, having put on holiday clothes, went to Mass at the chapel and afterwards +sat with the other girls on an earth-embankment cracking seeds; sometimes +again, together with her companions, she ran home, and each time gave the +lodger a bright and kindly look. Olénin felt afraid to address her playfully or +in the presence of others. He wished to finish telling her what he had begun to +say the night before, and to get her to give him a definite answer. He waited +for another moment like that of yesterday evening, but the moment did not come, +and he felt that he could not remain any longer in this uncertainty. She went +out into the street again, and after waiting awhile he too went out and without +knowing where he was going he followed her. He passed by the corner where she +was sitting in her shining blue satin <i>beshmet</i>, and with an aching heart +he heard behind him the girls laughing. +</p> + +<p> +Belétski’s hut looked out onto the square. As Olénin was passing it he heard +Belétski’s voice calling to him, “Come in,” and in he went. +</p> + +<p> +After a short talk they both sat down by the window and were soon joined by +Eróshka, who entered dressed in a new <i>beshmet</i> and sat down on the floor +beside them. +</p> + +<p> +“There, that’s the aristocratic party,” said Belétski, pointing with his +cigarette to a brightly coloured group at the corner. “Mine is there too. Do +you see her? in red. That’s a new <i>beshmet</i>. Why don’t you start the +<i>khorovód?</i>” he shouted, leaning out of the window. “Wait a bit, and then +when it grows dark let us go too. Then we will invite them to Ústenka’s. We +must arrange a ball for them!” +</p> + +<p> +“And I will come to Ústenka’s,” said Olénin in a decided tone. “Will Maryánka +be there?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, she’ll be there. Do come!” said Belétski, without the least surprise. +“But isn’t it a pretty picture?” he added, pointing to the motley crowds. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, very!” Olénin assented, trying to appear indifferent. +</p> + +<p> +“Holidays of this kind,” he added, “always make me wonder why all these people +should suddenly be contented and jolly. Today for instance, just because it +happens to be the fifteenth of the month, everything is festive. Eyes and faces +and voices and movements and garments, and the air and the sun, are all in a +holiday mood. And we no longer have any holidays!” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” said Belétski, who did not like such reflections. +</p> + +<p> +“And why are you not drinking, old fellow?” he said, turning to Eróshka. +</p> + +<p> +Eróshka winked at Olénin, pointing to Belétski. “Eh, he’s a proud one that +<i>kunak</i> of yours,” he said. +</p> + +<p> +Belétski raised his glass. +</p> + +<p> +“<i>Allah birdy!</i>” he said, emptying it. (<i>Allah birdy</i>, “God has +given!”—the usual greeting of Caucasians when drinking together.) +</p> + +<p> +“<i>Sau bul</i>” (“Your health”), answered Eróshka smiling, and emptied his glass. +</p> + +<p> +“Speaking of holidays!” he said, turning to Olénin as he rose and looked out of +the window, “What sort of holiday is that! You should have seen them make merry +in the old days! The women used to come out in their gold-trimmed +<i>sarafáns</i>. Two rows of gold coins hanging round their necks and +gold-cloth diadems on their heads, and when they passed they made a noise, +‘flu, flu,’ with their dresses. Every woman looked like a princess. Sometimes +they’d come out, a whole herd of them, and begin singing songs so that the air +seemed to rumble, and they went on making merry all night. And the Cossacks +would roll out a barrel into the yards and sit down and drink till break of +day, or they would go hand-in-hand sweeping the village. Whoever they met they +seized and took along with them, and went from house to house. Sometimes they +used to make merry for three days on end. Father used to come home—I still +remember it—quite red and swollen, without a cap, having lost everything: he’d +come and lie down. Mother knew what to do: she would bring him some fresh +caviar and a little <i>chikhir</i> to sober him up, and would herself run about +in the village looking for his cap. Then he’d sleep for two days! That’s the +sort of fellows they were then! But now what are they?” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, and the girls in the <i>sarafáns</i>, did they make merry all by +themselves?” asked Belétski. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, they did! Sometimes Cossacks would come on foot or on horse and say, +‘Let’s break up the <i>khorovóds</i>,’ and they’d go, but the girls would take +up cudgels. Carnival week, some young fellow would come galloping up, and +they’d cudgel his horse and cudgel him too. But he’d break through, seize the +one he loved, and carry her off. And his sweetheart would love him to his +heart’s content! Yes, the girls in those days, they were regular queens!” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap36"></a> Chapter XXXVI</h2> + +<p> +Just then two men rode out of the side street into the square. One of them was +Nazárka. The other, Lukáshka, sat slightly sideways on his well-fed bay Kabardá +horse which stepped lightly over the hard road jerking its beautiful head with +its fine glossy mane. The well-adjusted gun in its cover, the pistol at his +back, and the cloak rolled up behind his saddle showed that Lukáshka had not +come from a peaceful place or from one near by. The smart way in which he sat a +little sideways on his horse, the careless motion with which he touched the +horse under its belly with his whip, and especially his half-closed black eyes, +glistening as he looked proudly around him, all expressed the conscious +strength and self-confidence of youth. “Ever seen as fine a lad?” his eyes, +looking from side to side, seemed to say. The elegant horse with its silver +ornaments and trappings, the weapons, and the handsome Cossack himself +attracted the attention of everyone in the square. Nazárka, lean and short, was +much less well dressed. As he rode past the old men, Lukáshka paused and raised +his curly white sheepskin cap above his closely cropped black head. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, have you carried off many Nogáy horses?” asked a lean old man with a +frowning, lowering look. +</p> + +<p> +“Have you counted them, Grandad, that you ask?” replied Lukáshka, turning away. +</p> + +<p> +“That’s all very well, but you need not take my lad along with you,” the old +man muttered with a still darker frown. +</p> + +<p> +“Just see the old devil, he knows everything,” muttered Lukáshka to himself, +and a worried expression came over his face; but then, noticing a corner where +a number of Cossack girls were standing, he turned his horse towards them. +</p> + +<p> +“Good evening, girls!” he shouted in his powerful, resonant voice, suddenly +checking his horse. “You’ve grown old without me, you witches!” and he laughed. +</p> + +<p> +“Good evening, Lukáshka! Good evening, laddie!” the merry voices answered. +“Have you brought much money? Buy some sweets for the girls!... Have you come +for long? True enough, it’s long since we saw you....” +</p> + +<p> +“Nazárka and I have just flown across to make a night of it,” replied Lukáshka, +raising his whip and riding straight at the girls. +</p> + +<p> +“Why, Maryánka has quite forgotten you,” said Ústenka, nudging Maryánka with +her elbow and breaking into a shrill laugh. +</p> + +<p> +Maryánka moved away from the horse and throwing back her head calmly looked at +the Cossack with her large sparkling eyes. +</p> + +<p> +“True enough, you have not been home for a long time! Why are you trampling us +under your horse?” she remarked dryly, and turned away. +</p> + +<p> +Lukáshka had appeared particularly merry. His face shone with audacity and joy. +Obviously staggered by Maryánka’s cold reply he suddenly knitted his brow. +</p> + +<p> +“Step up on my stirrup and I’ll carry you away to the mountains. Mammy!” he +suddenly exclaimed, and as if to disperse his dark thoughts he caracoled among +the girls. Stooping down towards Maryánka, he said, “I’ll kiss, oh, how I’ll +kiss you! ...” +</p> + +<p> +Maryánka’s eyes met his and she suddenly blushed and stepped back. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, bother you! you’ll crush my feet,” she said, and bending her head looked +at her well-shaped feet in their tightly fitting light blue stockings with +clocks and her new red slippers trimmed with narrow silver braid. +</p> + +<p> +Lukáshka turned towards Ústenka, and Maryánka sat down next to a woman with a +baby in her arms. The baby stretched his plump little hands towards the girl +and seized a necklace string that hung down onto her blue <i>beshmet</i>. +Maryánka bent towards the child and glanced at Lukáshka from the corner of her +eyes. Lukáshka just then was getting out from under his coat, from the pocket +of his black <i>beshmet</i>, a bundle of sweetmeats and seeds. +</p> + +<p> +“There, I give them to all of you,” he said, handing the bundle to Ústenka and +smiling at Maryánka. +</p> + +<p> +A confused expression again appeared on the girl’s face. It was as though a +mist gathered over her beautiful eyes. She drew her kerchief down below her +lips, and leaning her head over the fair-skinned face of the baby that still +held her by her coin necklace she suddenly began to kiss it greedily. The baby +pressed his little hands against the girl’s high breasts, and opening his +toothless mouth screamed loudly. +</p> + +<p> +“You’re smothering the boy!” said the little one’s mother, taking him away; and +she unfastened her <i>beshmet</i> to give him the breast. “You’d better have a +chat with the young fellow.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’ll only go and put up my horse and then Nazárka and I will come back; we’ll +make merry all night,” said Lukáshka, touching his horse with his whip and +riding away from the girls. +</p> + +<p> +Turning into a side street, he and Nazárka rode up to two huts that stood side +by side. +</p> + +<p> +“Here we are all right, old fellow! Be quick and come soon!” called Lukáshka to +his comrade, dismounting in front of one of the huts; then he carefully led his +horse in at the gate of the wattle fence of his own home. +</p> + +<p> +“How d’you do, Stëpka?” he said to his dumb sister, who, smartly dressed like +the others, came in from the street to take his horse; and he made signs to her +to take the horse to the hay, but not to unsaddle it. +</p> + +<p> +The dumb girl made her usual humming noise, smacked her lips as she pointed to +the horse and kissed it on the nose, as much as to say that she loved it and +that it was a fine horse. +</p> + +<p> +“How d’you do, Mother? How is it that you have not gone out yet?” shouted +Lukáshka, holding his gun in place as he mounted the steps of the porch. +</p> + +<p> +His old mother opened the door. +</p> + +<p> +“Dear me! I never expected, never thought, you’d come,” said the old woman. +“Why, Kírka said you wouldn’t be here.” +</p> + +<p> +“Go and bring some <i>chikhir</i>, Mother. Nazárka is coming here and we will +celebrate the feast day.” +</p> + +<p> +“Directly, Lukáshka, directly!” answered the old woman. “Our women are making +merry. I expect our dumb one has gone too.” +</p> + +<p> +She took her keys and hurriedly went to the outhouse. Nazárka, after putting up +his horse and taking the gun off his shoulder, returned to Lukáshka’s house and +went in. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap37"></a> Chapter XXXVII</h2> + +<p> +“Your health!” said Lukáshka, taking from his mother’s hands a cup filled to +the brim with <i>chikhir</i> and carefully raising it to his bowed head. +</p> + +<p> +“A bad business!” said Nazárka. “You heard how Daddy Burlák said, ‘Have you +stolen many horses?’ He seems to know!” +</p> + +<p> +“A regular wizard!” Lukáshka replied shortly. “But what of it!” he added, +tossing his head. “They are across the river by now. Go and find them!” +</p> + +<p> +“Still it’s a bad lookout.” +</p> + +<p> +“What’s a bad lookout? Go and take some <i>chikhir</i> to him tomorrow and +nothing will come of it. Now let’s make merry. Drink!” shouted Lukáshka, just +in the tone in which old Eróshka uttered the word. “We’ll go out into the +street and make merry with the girls. You go and get some honey; or no, I’ll +send our dumb wench. We’ll make merry till morning.” +</p> + +<p> +Nazárka smiled. +</p> + +<p> +“Are we stopping here long?” he asked. +</p> + +<p> +“Till we’ve had a bit of fun. Run and get some vodka. Here’s the money.” +</p> + +<p> +Nazárka ran off obediently to get the vodka from Yámka’s. +</p> + +<p> +Daddy Eróshka and Ergushóv, like birds of prey, scenting where the merry-making +was going on, tumbled into the hut one after the other, both tipsy. +</p> + +<p> +“Bring us another half-pail,” shouted Lukáshka to his mother, by way of reply +to their greeting. +</p> + +<p> +“Now then, tell us where did you steal them, you devil?” shouted Eróshka. “Fine +fellow, I’m fond of you!” +</p> + +<p> +“Fond indeed...” answered Lukáshka laughing, “carrying sweets from cadets to +lasses! Eh, you old...” +</p> + +<p> +“That’s not true, not true! ... Oh, Mark,” and the old man burst out laughing. +“And how that devil begged me. ‘Go,’ he said, ‘and arrange it.’ He offered me a +gun! But no. I’d have managed it, but I feel for you. Now tell us where have +you been?” And the old man began speaking in Tartar. +</p> + +<p> +Lukáshka answered him promptly. +</p> + +<p> +Ergushóv, who did not know much Tartar, only occasionally put in a word in +Russian: “What I say is he’s driven away the horses. I know it for a fact,” he +chimed in. +</p> + +<p> +“Giréy and I went together.” (His speaking of Giréy Khan as “Giréy” was, to the +Cossack mind, evidence of his boldness.) “Just beyond the river he kept +bragging that he knew the whole of the steppe and would lead the way straight, +but we rode on and the night was dark, and my Giréy lost his way and began +wandering in a circle without getting anywhere: couldn’t find the village, and +there we were. We must have gone too much to the right. I believe we wandered +about well-nigh till midnight. Then, thank goodness, we heard dogs howling.” +</p> + +<p> +“Fools!” said Daddy Eróshka. “There now, we too used to lose our way in the +steppe. (Who the devil can follow it?) But I used to ride up a hillock and +start howling like the wolves, like this!” He placed his hands before his +mouth, and howled like a pack of wolves, all on one note. “The dogs would +answer at once ... Well, go on—so you found them?” +</p> + +<p> +“We soon led them away! Nazárka was nearly caught by some Nogáy women, he was!” +</p> + +<p> +“Caught indeed,” Nazárka, who had just come back, said in an injured tone. +</p> + +<p> +“We rode off again, and again Giréy lost his way and almost landed us among the +sand-drifts. We thought we were just getting to the Térek but we were riding +away from it all the time!” +</p> + +<p> +“You should have steered by the stars,” said Daddy Eróshka. +</p> + +<p> +“That’s what I say,” interjected Ergushóv. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, steer when all is black; I tried and tried all about... and at last I put +the bridle on one of the mares and let my own horse go free—thinking he’ll lead +us out, and what do you think! he just gave a snort or two with his nose to the +ground, galloped ahead, and led us straight to our village. Thank goodness! It +was getting quite light. We barely had time to hide them in the forest. Nagím +came across the river and took them away.” +</p> + +<p> +Ergushóv shook his head. “It’s just what I said. Smart. Did you get much for +them?” +</p> + +<p> +“It’s all here,” said Lukáshka, slapping his pocket. +</p> + +<p> +Just then his mother came into the room, and Lukáshka did not finish what he +was saying. +</p> + +<p> +“Drink!” he shouted. +</p> + +<p> +“We too, Gírich and I, rode out late one night...” began Eróshka. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh bother, we’ll never hear the end of you!” said Lukáshka. “I am going.” And +having emptied his cup and tightened the strap of his belt he went out. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap38"></a> Chapter XXXVIII</h2> + +<p> +It was already dark when Lukáshka went out into the street. The autumn night +was fresh and calm. The full golden moon floated up behind the tall dark +poplars that grew on one side of the square. From the chimneys of the outhouses +smoke rose and spread above the village, mingling with the mist. Here and there +lights shone through the windows, and the air was laden with the smell of +<i>kisyak</i>, grape-pulp, and mist. The sounds of voices, laughter, songs, and +the cracking of seeds mingled just as they had done in the daytime, but were +now more distinct. Clusters of white kerchiefs and caps gleamed through the +darkness near the houses and by the fences. +</p> + +<p> +In the square, before the shop door which was lit up and open, the black and +white figures of Cossack men and maids showed through the darkness, and one +heard from afar their loud songs and laughter and talk. The girls, hand in +hand, went round and round in a circle stepping lightly in the dusty square. A +skinny girl, the plainest of them all, set the tune: +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +“From beyond the wood, from the forest dark,<br/> +From the garden green and the shady park,<br/> +There came out one day two young lads so gay.<br/> +Young bachelors, hey! brave and smart were they!<br/> +And they walked and walked, then stood still, each man,<br/> +And they talked and soon to dispute began!<br/> +Then a maid came out; as she came along,<br/> +Said, ‘To one of you I shall soon belong!’<br/> +’Twas the fair-faced lad got the maiden fair,<br/> +Yes, the fair-faced lad with the golden hair!<br/> +Her right hand so white in his own took he,<br/> +And he led her round for his mates to see!<br/> +And said, ‘Have you ever in all your life,<br/> +Met a lass as fair as my sweet little wife?’” +</p> + +<p> +The old women stood round listening to the songs. The little boys and girls ran +about chasing one another in the dark. The men stood by, catching at the girls +as the latter moved round, and sometimes breaking the ring and entering it. On +the dark side of the doorway stood Belétski and Olénin, in their Circassian +coats and sheepskin caps, and talked together in a style of speech unlike that +of the Cossacks, in low but distinct tones, conscious that they were attracting +attention. +</p> + +<p> +Next to one another in the <i>khorovód</i> circle moved plump little Ústenka in +her red <i>beshmet</i> and the stately Maryánka in her new smock and +<i>beshmet</i>. Olénin and Belétski were discussing how to snatch Ústenka and +Maryánka out of the ring. Belétski thought that Olénin wished only to amuse +himself, but Olénin was expecting his fate to be decided. He wanted at any cost +to see Maryánka alone that very day and to tell her everything, and ask her +whether she could and would be his wife. Although that question had long been +answered in the negative in his own mind, he hoped he would be able to tell her +all he felt, and that she would understand him. +</p> + +<p> +“Why did you not tell me sooner?” said Belétski. “I would have got Ústenka to +arrange it for you. You are such a queer fellow! ...” +</p> + +<p> +“What’s to be done! ... Some day, very soon, I’ll tell you all about it. Only +now, for Heaven’s sake, arrange so that she should come to Ústenka’s.” +</p> + +<p> +“All right, that’s easily done! Well, Maryánka, will you belong to the +‘fair-faced lad’, and not to Lukáshka?” said Belétski, speaking to Maryánka +first for propriety’s sake, but having received no reply he went up to Ústenka +and begged her to bring Maryánka home with her. He had hardly time to finish +what he was saying before the leader began another song and the girls started +pulling each other round in the ring by the hand. +</p> + +<p> +They sang: +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +Past the garden, by the garden,<br/> +A young man came strolling down,<br/> +Up the street and through the town.<br/> +And the first time as he passed<br/> +He did wave his strong right hand.<br/> +As the second time he passed<br/> +Waved his hat with silken band.<br/> +But the third time as he went<br/> +He stood still: before her bent.<br/> +<br/> +How is it that thou, my dear,<br/> +My reproaches dost not fear?<br/> +In the park don’t come to walk<br/> +That we there might have a talk?<br/> +Come now, answer me, my dear,<br/> +Dost thou hold me in contempt?<br/> +Later on, thou knowest, dear,<br/> +Thou’lt get sober and repent.<br/> +Soon to woo thee I will come,<br/> +And when we shall married be<br/> +Thou wilt weep because of me!<br/> +<br/> +Though I knew what to reply,<br/> +Yet I dared not him deny,<br/> +No, I dared not him deny!<br/> +So into the park went I,<br/> +In the park my lad to meet,<br/> +There my dear one I did greet.<br/> +<br/> +Maiden dear, I bow to thee!<br/> +Take this handkerchief from me.<br/> +In thy white hand take it, see!<br/> +Say I am beloved by thee.<br/> +I don’t know at all, I fear,<br/> +What I am to give thee, dear!<br/> +To my dear I think I will<br/> +Of a shawl a present make—<br/> +And five kisses for it take. +</p> + +<p> +Lukáshka and Nazárka broke into the ring and started walking about among the +girls. Lukáshka joined in the singing, taking seconds in his clear voice as he +walked in the middle of the ring swinging his arms. “Well, come in, one of +you!” he said. The other girls pushed Maryánka, but she would not enter the +ring. The sound of shrill laughter, slaps, kisses, and whispers mingled with +the singing. +</p> + +<p> +As he went past Olénin, Lukáshka gave a friendly nod. +</p> + +<p> +“Dmítri Andréich! Have you too come to have a look?” he said. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” answered Olénin dryly. +</p> + +<p> +Belétski stooped and whispered something into Ústenka’s ear. She had not time +to reply till she came round again, when she said: +</p> + +<p> +“All right, we’ll come.” +</p> + +<p> +“And Maryánka too?” +</p> + +<p> +Olénin stooped towards Maryánka. “You’ll come? Please do, if only for a minute. +I must speak to you.” +</p> + +<p> +“If the other girls come, I will.” +</p> + +<p> +“Will you answer my question?” said he, bending towards her. “You are in good +spirits today.” +</p> + +<p> +She had already moved past him. He went after her. +</p> + +<p> +“Will you answer?” +</p> + +<p> +“Answer what?” +</p> + +<p> +“The question I asked you the other day,” said Olénin, stooping to her ear. +“Will you marry me?” +</p> + +<p> +Maryánka thought for a moment. +</p> + +<p> +“I’ll tell you,” said she, “I’ll tell you tonight.” +</p> + +<p> +And through the darkness her eyes gleamed brightly and kindly at the young man. +</p> + +<p> +He still followed her. He enjoyed stooping closer to her. But Lukáshka, without +ceasing to sing, suddenly seized her firmly by the hand and pulled her from her +place in the ring of girls into the middle. Olénin had only time to say, “Come +to Ústenka’s,” and stepped back to his companion. +</p> + +<p> +The song came to an end. Lukáshka wiped his lips, Maryánka did the same, and +they kissed. “No, no, kisses five!” said Lukáshka. Chatter, laughter, and +running about, succeeded to the rhythmic movements and sound. Lukáshka, who +seemed to have drunk a great deal, began to distribute sweetmeats to the girls. +</p> + +<p> +“I offer them to everyone!” he said with proud, comically pathetic +self-admiration. “But anyone who goes after soldiers goes out of the ring!” he +suddenly added, with an angry glance at Olénin. +</p> + +<p> +The girls grabbed his sweetmeats from him, and, laughing, struggled for them +among themselves. Belétski and Olénin stepped aside. +</p> + +<p> +Lukáshka, as if ashamed of his generosity, took off his cap and wiping his +forehead with his sleeve came up to Maryánka and Ústenka. +</p> + +<p> +“Answer me, my dear, dost thou hold me in contempt?” he said in the words of +the song they had just been singing, and turning to Maryánka he angrily +repeated the words: “Dost thou hold me in contempt? When we shall married be +thou wilt weep because of me!” he added, embracing Ústenka and Maryánka both +together. +</p> + +<p> +Ústenka tore herself away, and swinging her arm gave him such a blow on the +back that she hurt her hand. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, are you going to have another turn?” he asked. +</p> + +<p> +“The other girls may if they like,” answered Ústenka, “but I am going home and +Maryánka was coming to our house too.” +</p> + +<p> +With his arm still round her, Lukáshka led Maryánka away from the crowd to the +darker corner of a house. +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t go, Maryánka,” he said, “let’s have some fun for the last time. Go home +and I will come to you!” +</p> + +<p> +“What am I to do at home? Holidays are meant for merrymaking. I am going to +Ústenka’s,” replied Maryánka. +</p> + +<p> +“I’ll marry you all the same, you know!” +</p> + +<p> +“All right,” said Maryánka, “we shall see when the time comes.” +</p> + +<p> +“So you are going,” said Lukáshka sternly, and, pressing her close, he kissed +her on the cheek. +</p> + +<p> +“There, leave off! Don’t bother,” and Maryánka, wrenching herself from his +arms, moved away. +</p> + +<p> +“Ah my girl, it will turn out badly,” said Lukáshka reproachfully and stood +still, shaking his head. “Thou wilt weep because of me...” and turning away +from her he shouted to the other girls: +</p> + +<p> +“Now then! Play away!” +</p> + +<p> +What he had said seemed to have frightened and vexed Maryánka. She stopped, +“What will turn out badly?” +</p> + +<p> +“Why, that!” +</p> + +<p> +“That what?” +</p> + +<p> +“Why, that you keep company with a soldier-lodger and no longer care for me!” +</p> + +<p> +“I’ll care just as long as I choose. You’re not my father, nor my mother. What +do you want? I’ll care for whom I like!” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, all right...” said Lukáshka, “but remember!” He moved towards the shop. +“Girls!” he shouted, “why have you stopped? Go on dancing. Nazárka, fetch some +more <i>chikhir</i>.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, will they come?” asked Olénin, addressing Belétski. +</p> + +<p> +“They’ll come directly,” replied Belétski. “Come along, we must prepare the +ball.” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap39"></a> Chapter XXXIX</h2> + +<p> +It was already late in the night when Olénin came out of Belétski’s hut +following Maryánka and Ústenka. He saw in the dark street before him the gleam +of the girl’s white kerchief. The golden moon was descending towards the +steppe. A silvery mist hung over the village. All was still; there were no +lights anywhere and one heard only the receding footsteps of the young women. +Olénin’s heart beat fast. The fresh moist atmosphere cooled his burning face. +He glanced at the sky and turned to look at the hut he had just come out of: +the candle was already out. Then he again peered through the darkness at the +girls’ retreating shadows. The white kerchief disappeared in the mist. He was +afraid to remain alone, he was so happy. He jumped down from the porch and ran +after the girls. +</p> + +<p> +“Bother you, someone may see...” said Ústenka. +</p> + +<p> +“Never mind!” +</p> + +<p> +Olénin ran up to Maryánka and embraced her. +</p> + +<p> +Maryánka did not resist. +</p> + +<p> +“Haven’t you kissed enough yet?” said Ústenka. “Marry and then kiss, but now +you’d better wait.” +</p> + +<p> +“Good-night, Maryánka. Tomorrow I will come to see your father and tell him. +Don’t you say anything.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why should I!” answered Maryánka. +</p> + +<p> +Both the girls started running. Olénin went on by himself thinking over all +that had happened. He had spent the whole evening alone with her in a corner by +the oven. Ústenka had not left the hut for a single moment, but had romped +about with the other girls and with Belétski all the time. Olénin had talked in +whispers to Maryánka. +</p> + +<p> +“Will you marry me?” he had asked. +</p> + +<p> +“You’d deceive me and not have me,” she replied cheerfully and calmly. +</p> + +<p> +“But do you love me? Tell me for God’s sake!” +</p> + +<p> +“Why shouldn’t I love you? You don’t squint,” answered Maryánka, laughing and +with her hard hands squeezing his.... +</p> + +<p> +“What whi-ite, whi-i-ite, soft hands you’ve got—so like clotted cream,” she +said. +</p> + +<p> +“I am in earnest. Tell me, will you marry me?” +</p> + +<p> +“Why not, if father gives me to you?” +</p> + +<p> +“Well then remember, I shall go mad if you deceive me. Tomorrow I will tell +your mother and father. I shall come and propose.” +</p> + +<p> +Maryánka suddenly burst out laughing. +</p> + +<p> +“What’s the matter?” +</p> + +<p> +“It seems so funny!” +</p> + +<p> +“It’s true! I will buy a vineyard and a house and will enroll myself as a +Cossack.” +</p> + +<p> +“Mind you don’t go after other women then. I am severe about that.” +</p> + +<p> +Olénin joyfully repeated all these words to himself. The memory of them now +gave him pain and now such joy that it took away his breath. The pain was +because she had remained as calm as usual while talking to him. She did not +seem at all agitated by these new conditions. It was as if she did not trust +him and did not think of the future. It seemed to him that she only loved him +for the present moment, and that in her mind there was no future with him. He +was happy because her words sounded to him true, and she had consented to be +his. “Yes,” thought he to himself, “we shall only understand one another when +she is quite mine. For such love there are no words. It needs life—the whole of +life. Tomorrow everything will be cleared up. I cannot live like this any +longer; tomorrow I will tell everything to her father, to Belétski, and to the +whole village.” +</p> + +<p> +Lukáshka, after two sleepless nights, had drunk so much at the fête that for +the first time in his life his feet would not carry him, and he slept in +Yámka’s house. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap40"></a> Chapter XL</h2> + +<p> +The next day Olénin awoke earlier than usual, and immediately remembered what +lay before him, and he joyfully recalled her kisses, the pressure of her hard +hands, and her words, “What white hands you have!” He jumped up and wished to +go at once to his hosts’ hut to ask for their consent to his marriage with +Maryánka. The sun had not yet risen, but it seemed that there was an unusual +bustle in the street and side-street: people were moving about on foot and on +horseback, and talking. He threw on his Circassian coat and hastened out into +the porch. His hosts were not yet up. Five Cossacks were riding past and +talking loudly together. In front rode Lukáshka on his broad-backed Kabardá +horse. +</p> + +<p> +The Cossacks were all speaking and shouting so that it was impossible to make +out exactly what they were saying. +</p> + +<p> +“Ride to the Upper Post,” shouted one. +</p> + +<p> +“Saddle and catch us up, be quick,” said another. +</p> + +<p> +“It’s nearer through the other gate!” +</p> + +<p> +“What are you talking about?” cried Lukáshka. “We must go through the middle +gates, of course.” +</p> + +<p> +“So we must, it’s nearer that way,” said one of the Cossacks who was covered +with dust and rode a perspiring horse. Lukáshka’s face was red and swollen +after the drinking of the previous night and his cap was pushed to the back of +his head. He was calling out with authority as though he were an officer. +</p> + +<p> +“What is the matter? Where are you going?” asked Olénin, with difficulty +attracting the Cossacks’ attention. +</p> + +<p> +“We are off to catch <i>abreks</i>. They’re hiding among the sand-drifts. We +are just off, but there are not enough of us yet.” +</p> + +<p> +And the Cossacks continued to shout, more and more of them joining as they rode +down the street. It occurred to Olénin that it would not look well for him to +stay behind; besides he thought he could soon come back. He dressed, loaded his +gun with bullets, jumped onto his horse which Vanyúsha had saddled more or less +well, and overtook the Cossacks at the village gates. The Cossacks had +dismounted, and filling a wooden bowl with <i>chikhir</i> from a little cask +which they had brought with them, they passed the bowl round to one another and +drank to the success of their expedition. Among them was a smartly dressed +young cornet, who happened to be in the village and who took command of the +group of nine Cossacks who had joined for the expedition. All these Cossacks +were privates, and although the cornet assumed the airs of a commanding +officer, they only obeyed Lukáshka. Of Olénin they took no notice at all, and +when they had all mounted and started, and Olénin rode up to the cornet and +began asking him what was taking place, the cornet, who was usually quite +friendly, treated him with marked condescension. It was with great difficulty +that Olénin managed to find out from him what was happening. Scouts who had +been sent out to search for <i>abreks</i> had come upon several hillsmen some +six miles from the village. These <i>abreks</i> had taken shelter in pits and +had fired at the scouts, declaring they would not surrender. A corporal who had +been scouting with two Cossacks had remained to watch the <i>abreks</i>, and +had sent one Cossack back to get help. +</p> + +<p> +The sun was just rising. Three miles beyond the village the steppe spread out +and nothing was visible except the dry, monotonous, sandy, dismal plain covered +with the footmarks of cattle, and here and there with tufts of withered grass, +with low reeds in the flats, and rare, little-trodden footpaths, and the camps +of the nomad Nogáy tribe just visible far away. The absence of shade and the +austere aspect of the place were striking. The sun always rises and sets red in +the steppe. When it is windy whole hills of sand are carried by the wind from +place to place. +</p> + +<p> +When it is calm, as it was that morning, the silence, uninterrupted by any +movement or sound, is peculiarly striking. That morning in the steppe it was +quiet and dull, though the sun had already risen. It all seemed specially soft +and desolate. The air was hushed, the footfalls and the snorting of the horses +were the only sounds to be heard, and even they quickly died away. +</p> + +<p> +The men rode almost silently. A Cossack always carries his weapons so that they +neither jingle nor rattle. Jingling weapons are a terrible disgrace to a +Cossack. Two other Cossacks from the village caught the party up and exchanged +a few words. Lukáshka’s horse either stumbled or caught its foot in some grass, +and became restive—which is a sign of bad luck among the Cossacks, and at such +a time was of special importance. The others exchanged glances and turned away, +trying not to notice what had happened. Lukaskha pulled at the reins, frowned +sternly, set his teeth, and flourished his whip above his head. His good +Kabardá horse, prancing from one foot to another not knowing with which to +start, seemed to wish to fly upwards on wings. But Lukáshka hit its well-fed +sides with his whip once, then again, and a third time, and the horse, showing +its teeth and spreading out its tail, snorted and reared and stepped on its +hind legs a few paces away from the others. +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, a good steed that!” said the cornet. +</p> + +<p> +That he said <i>steed</i> instead of <i>horse</i> indicated special praise. +</p> + +<p> +“A lion of a horse,” assented one of the others, an old Cossack. +</p> + +<p> +The Cossacks rode forward silently, now at a footpace, then at a trot, and +these changes were the only incidents that interrupted for a moment the +stillness and solemnity of their movements. +</p> + +<p> +Riding through the steppe for about six miles, they passed nothing but one +Nogáy tent, placed on a cart and moving slowly along at a distance of about a +mile from them. A Nogáy family was moving from one part of the steppe to +another. Afterwards they met two tattered Nogáy women with high cheekbones, who +with baskets on their backs were gathering dung left by the cattle that +wandered over the steppe. The cornet, who did not know their language well, +tried to question them, but they did not understand him and, obviously +frightened, looked at one another. +</p> + +<p> +Lukáshka rode up to them both, stopped his horse, and promptly uttered the +usual greeting. The Nogáy women were evidently relieved, and began speaking to +him quite freely as to a brother. +</p> + +<p> +“<i>Ay-ay, kop abrek!</i>” they said plaintively, pointing in the direction in which +the Cossacks were going. Olénin understood that they were saying, “Many +<i>abreks</i>.” +</p> + +<p> +Never having seen an engagement of that kind, and having formed an idea of them +only from Daddy Eróshka’s tales, Olénin wished not to be left behind by the +Cossacks, but wanted to see it all. He admired the Cossacks, and was on the +watch, looking and listening and making his own observations. Though he had +brought his sword and a loaded gun with him, when he noticed that the Cossacks +avoided him he decided to take no part in the action, as in his opinion his +courage had already been sufficiently proved when he was with his detachment, +and also because he was very happy. +</p> + +<p> +Suddenly a shot was heard in the distance. +</p> + +<p> +The cornet became excited, and began giving orders to the Cossacks as to how +they should divide and from which side they should approach. But the Cossacks +did not appear to pay any attention to these orders, listening only to what +Lukáshka said and looking to him alone. Lukáshka’s face and figure were +expressive of calm solemnity. He put his horse to a trot with which the others +were unable to keep pace, and screwing up his eyes kept looking ahead. +</p> + +<p> +“There’s a man on horseback,” he said, reining in his horse and keeping in line +with the others. +</p> + +<p> +Olénin looked intently, but could not see anything. The Cossacks soon +distinguished two riders and quietly rode straight towards them. +</p> + +<p> +“Are those the <i>abreks?</i>” asked Olénin. +</p> + +<p> +The Cossacks did not answer his question, which appeared quite meaningless to +them. The <i>abreks</i> would have been fools to venture across the river on +horseback. +</p> + +<p> +“That’s friend Ródka waving to us, I do believe,” said Lukáshka, pointing to +the two mounted men who were now clearly visible. “Look, he’s coming to us.” +</p> + +<p> +A few minutes later it became plain that the two horsemen were the Cossack +scouts. The corporal rode up to Lukáshka. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap41"></a> Chapter XLI</h2> + +<p> +“Are they far?” was all Lukáshka said. +</p> + +<p> +Just then they heard a sharp shot some thirty paces off. The corporal smiled +slightly. +</p> + +<p> +“Our Gúrka is having shots at them,” he said, nodding in the direction of the +shot. +</p> + +<p> +Having gone a few paces farther they saw Gúrka sitting behind a sand-hillock +and loading his gun. To while away the time he was exchanging shots with the +<i>abreks</i>, who were behind another sand-heap. A bullet came whistling from +their side. +</p> + +<p> +The cornet was pale and grew confused. Lukáshka dismounted from his horse, +threw the reins to one of the other Cossacks, and went up to Gúrka. Olénin also +dismounted and, bending down, followed Lukáshka. They had hardly reached Gúrka +when two bullets whistled above them. +</p> + +<p> +Lukáshka looked around laughing at Olénin and stooped a little. +</p> + +<p> +“Look out or they will kill you, Dmítri Andréich,” he said. “You’d better go +away—you have no business here.” But Olénin wanted absolutely to see the +<i>abreks</i>. +</p> + +<p> +From behind the mound he saw caps and muskets some two hundred paces off. +Suddenly a little cloud of smoke appeared from thence, and again a bullet +whistled past. The <i>abreks</i> were hiding in a marsh at the foot of the +hill. Olénin was much impressed by the place in which they sat. In reality it +was very much like the rest of the steppe, but because the <i>abreks</i> sat +there it seemed to detach itself from all the rest and to have become +distinguished. Indeed it appeared to Olénin that it was the very spot for +<i>abreks</i> to occupy. Lukáshka went back to his horse and Olénin followed +him. +</p> + +<p> +“We must get a hay-cart,” said Lukáshka, “or they will be killing some of us. +There behind that mound is a Nogáy cart with a load of hay.” +</p> + +<p> +The cornet listened to him and the corporal agreed. The cart of hay was +fetched, and the Cossacks, hiding behind it, pushed it forward. Olénin rode up +a hillock from whence he could see everything. The hay-cart moved on and the +Cossacks crowded together behind it. The Cossacks advanced, but the Chéchens, +of whom there were nine, sat with their knees in a row and did not fire. +</p> + +<p> +All was quiet. Suddenly from the Chéchens arose the sound of a mournful song, +something like Daddy Eróshka’s “Ay day, dalalay.” The Chéchens knew that they +could not escape, and to prevent themselves from being tempted to take to +flight they had strapped themselves together, knee to knee, had got their guns +ready, and were singing their death-song. +</p> + +<p> +The Cossacks with their hay-cart drew closer and closer, and Olénin expected +the firing to begin at any moment, but the silence was only broken by the +<i>abreks</i>’ mournful song. Suddenly the song ceased; there was a sharp +report, a bullet struck the front of the cart, and Chéchen curses and yells +broke the silence and shot followed on shot and one bullet after another struck +the cart. The Cossacks did not fire and were now only five paces distant. +</p> + +<p> +Another moment passed and the Cossacks with a whoop rushed out on both sides +from behind the cart—Lukáshka in front of them. Olénin heard only a few shots, +then shouting and moans. He thought he saw smoke and blood, and abandoning his +horse and quite beside himself he ran towards the Cossacks. Horror seemed to +blind him. He could not make out anything, but understood that all was over. +Lukáshka, pale as death, was holding a wounded Chéchen by the arms and +shouting, “Don’t kill him. I’ll take him alive!” The Chéchen was the red-haired +man who had fetched his brother’s body away after Lukáshka had killed him. +Lukáshka was twisting his arms. Suddenly the Chéchen wrenched himself free and +fired his pistol. Lukáshka fell, and blood began to flow from his stomach. He +jumped up, but fell again, swearing in Russian and in Tartar. More and more +blood appeared on his clothes and under him. Some Cossacks approached him and +began loosening his girdle. One of them, Nazárka, before beginning to help, +fumbled for some time, unable to put his sword in its sheath: it would not go +the right way. The blade of the sword was blood-stained. +</p> + +<p> +The Chéchens with their red hair and clipped moustaches lay dead and hacked +about. Only the one we know of, who had fired at Lukáshka, though wounded in +many places was still alive. Like a wounded hawk all covered with blood (blood +was flowing from a wound under his right eye), pale and gloomy, he looked about +him with wide-open excited eyes and clenched teeth as he crouched, dagger in +hand, still prepared to defend himself. The cornet went up to him as if +intending to pass by, and with a quick movement shot him in the ear. The +Chéchen started up, but it was too late, and he fell. +</p> + +<p> +The Cossacks, quite out of breath, dragged the bodies aside and took the +weapons from them. Each of the red-haired Chéchens had been a man, and each one +had his own individual expression. Lukáshka was carried to the cart. He +continued to swear in Russian and in Tartar. +</p> + +<p> +“No fear, I’ll strangle him with my hands. <i>Anna seni!</i>” he cried, +struggling. But he soon became quiet from weakness. +</p> + +<p> +Olénin rode home. In the evening he was told that Lukáshka was at death’s door, +but that a Tartar from beyond the river had undertaken to cure him with herbs. +</p> + +<p> +The bodies were brought to the village office. The women and the little boys +hastened to look at them. +</p> + +<p> +It was growing dark when Olénin returned, and he could not collect himself +after what he had seen. But towards night memories of the evening before came +rushing to his mind. He looked out of the window, Maryánka was passing to and +fro from the house to the cowshed, putting things straight. Her mother had gone +to the vineyard and her father to the office. Olénin could not wait till she +had quite finished her work, but went out to meet her. She was in the hut +standing with her back towards him. Olénin thought she felt shy. +</p> + +<p> +“Maryánka,” said he, “I say, Maryánka! May I come in?” +</p> + +<p> +She suddenly turned. There was a scarcely perceptible trace of tears in her +eyes and her face was beautiful in its sadness. She looked at him in silent +dignity. +</p> + +<p> +Olénin again said: +</p> + +<p> +“Maryánka, I have come—” +</p> + +<p> +“Leave me alone!” she said. Her face did not change but the tears ran down her +cheeks. +</p> + +<p> +“What are you crying for? What is it?” +</p> + +<p> +“What?” she repeated in a rough voice. “Cossacks have been killed, that’s what +for.” +</p> + +<p> +“Lukáshka?” said Olénin. +</p> + +<p> +“Go away! What do you want?” +</p> + +<p> +“Maryánka!” said Olénin, approaching her. +</p> + +<p> +“You will never get anything from me!” +</p> + +<p> +“Maryánka, don’t speak like that,” Olénin entreated. +</p> + +<p> +“Get away. I’m sick of you!” shouted the girl, stamping her foot, and moved +threateningly towards him. And her face expressed such abhorrence, such +contempt, and such anger that Olénin suddenly understood that there was no hope +for him, and that his first impression of this woman’s inaccessibility had been +perfectly correct. +</p> + +<p> +Olénin said nothing more, but ran out of the hut. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap42"></a> Chapter XLII</h2> + +<p> +For two hours after returning home he lay on his bed motionless. Then he went +to his company commander and obtained leave to visit the staff. Without taking +leave of anyone, and sending Vanyúsha to settle his accounts with his landlord, +he prepared to leave for the fort where his regiment was stationed. Daddy +Eróshka was the only one to see him off. They had a drink, and then a second, +and then yet another. Again as on the night of his departure from Moscow, a +three-horsed conveyance stood waiting at the door. But Olénin did not confer +with himself as he had done then, and did not say to himself that all he had +thought and done here was “not it”. He did not promise himself a new life. He +loved Maryánka more than ever, and knew that he could never be loved by her. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, good-bye, my lad!” said Daddy Eróshka. “When you go on an expedition, be +wise and listen to my words—the words of an old man. When you are out on a raid +or the like (you know I’m an old wolf and have seen things), and when they +begin firing, don’t get into a crowd where there are many men. When you fellows +get frightened you always try to get close together with a lot of others. You +think it is merrier to be with others, but that’s where it is worst of all! +They always aim at a crowd. Now I used to keep farther away from the others and +went alone, and I’ve never been wounded. Yet what things haven’t I seen in my +day?” +</p> + +<p> +“But you’ve got a bullet in your back,” remarked Vanyúsha, who was clearing up +the room. +</p> + +<p> +“That was the Cossacks fooling about,” answered Eróshka. +</p> + +<p> +“Cossacks? How was that?” asked Olénin. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, just so. We were drinking. Vánka Sítkin, one of the Cossacks, got merry, +and puff! he gave me one from his pistol just here.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, and did it hurt?” asked Olénin. “Vanyúsha, will you soon be ready?” he +added. +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, where’s the hurry! Let me tell you. When he banged into me, the bullet did +not break the bone but remained here. And I say: ‘You’ve killed me, brother. +Eh! What have you done to me? I won’t let you off! You’ll have to stand me a +pailful!’” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, but did it hurt?” Olénin asked again, scarcely listening to the tale. +</p> + +<p> +“Let me finish. He stood a pailful, and we drank it, but the blood went on +flowing. The whole room was drenched and covered with blood. Grandad Burlák, he +says, ‘The lad will give up the ghost. Stand a bottle of the sweet sort, or we +shall have you taken up!’ They bought more drink, and boozed and boozed—” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, but did it hurt you much?” Olénin asked once more. +</p> + +<p> +“Hurt, indeed! Don’t interrupt: I don’t like it. Let me finish. We boozed and +boozed till morning, and I fell asleep on the top of the oven, drunk. When I +woke in the morning I could not unbend myself anyhow—” +</p> + +<p> +“Was it very painful?” repeated Olénin, thinking that now he would at last get +an answer to his question. +</p> + +<p> +“Did I tell you it was painful? I did not say it was painful, but I could not +bend and could not walk.” +</p> + +<p> +“And then it healed up?” said Olénin, not even laughing, so heavy was his +heart. +</p> + +<p> +“It healed up, but the bullet is still there. Just feel it!” And lifting his +shirt he showed his powerful back, where just near the bone a bullet could be +felt and rolled about. +</p> + +<p> +“Feel how it rolls,” he said, evidently amusing himself with the bullet as with +a toy. “There now, it has rolled to the back.” +</p> + +<p> +“And Lukáshka, will he recover?” asked Olénin. +</p> + +<p> +“Heaven only knows! There’s no doctor. They’ve gone for one.” +</p> + +<p> +“Where will they get one? From Gróznoe?” asked Olénin. +</p> + +<p> +“No, my lad. Were I the Tsar I’d have hung all your Russian doctors long ago. +Cutting is all they know! There’s our Cossack Bakláshka, no longer a real man +now that they’ve cut off his leg! That shows they’re fools. What’s Bakláshka +good for now? No, my lad, in the mountains there are real doctors. There was my +chum, Vórchik, he was on an expedition and was wounded just here in the chest. +Well, your doctors gave him up, but one of theirs came from the mountains and +cured him! They understand herbs, my lad!” +</p> + +<p> +“Come, stop talking rubbish,” said Olénin. “I’d better send a doctor from +head-quarters.” +</p> + +<p> +“Rubbish!” the old man said mockingly. “Fool, fool! Rubbish. You’ll send a +doctor!—If yours cured people, Cossacks and Chéchens would go to you for +treatment, but as it is your officers and colonels send to the mountains for +doctors. Yours are all humbugs, all humbugs.” +</p> + +<p> +Olénin did not answer. He agreed only too fully that all was humbug in the +world in which he had lived and to which he was now returning. +</p> + +<p> +“How is Lukáshka? You’ve been to see him?” he asked. +</p> + +<p> +“He just lies as if he were dead. He does not eat nor drink. Vodka is the only +thing his soul accepts. But as long as he drinks vodka it’s well. I’d be sorry +to lose the lad. A fine lad—a brave, like me. I too lay dying like that once. +The old women were already wailing. My head was burning. They had already laid +me out under the holy icons. So I lay there, and above me on the oven little +drummers, no bigger than this, beat the tattoo. I shout at them and they drum +all the harder.” (The old man laughed.) “The women brought our church elder. +They were getting ready to bury me. They said, ‘He defiled himself with worldly +unbelievers; he made merry with women; he ruined people; he did not fast, and +he played the <i>balaláyka</i>. Confess,’ they said. So I began to confess. +‘I’ve sinned!’ I said. Whatever the priest said, I always answered ‘I’ve +sinned.’ He began to ask me about the <i>balaláyka</i>. ‘Where is the accursed +thing,’ he says. ‘Show it me and smash it.’ But I say, ‘I’ve not got it.’ I’d +hidden it myself in a net in the outhouse. I knew they could not find it. So +they left me. Yet after all I recovered. When I went for my +<i>balaláyka</i>—What was I saying?” he continued. “Listen to me, and keep +farther away from the other men or you’ll get killed foolishly. I feel for you, +truly: you are a drinker—I love you! And fellows like you like riding up the +mounds. There was one who lived here who had come from Russia, he always would +ride up the mounds (he called the mounds so funnily, ‘hillocks’). Whenever he +saw a mound, off he’d gallop. Once he galloped off that way and rode to the top +quite pleased, but a Chéchen fired at him and killed him! Ah, how well they +shoot from their gun-rests, those Chéchens! Some of them shoot even better than +I do. I don’t like it when a fellow gets killed so foolishly! Sometimes I used +to look at your soldiers and wonder at them. There’s foolishness for you! They +go, the poor fellows, all in a clump, and even sew red collars to their coats! +How can they help being hit! One gets killed, they drag him away and another +takes his place! What foolishness!” the old man repeated, shaking his head. +“Why not scatter, and go one by one? So you just go like that and they won’t +notice you. That’s what you must do.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, thank you! Good-bye, Daddy. God willing we may meet again,” said Olénin, +getting up and moving towards the passage. +</p> + +<p> +The old man, who was sitting on the floor, did not rise. +</p> + +<p> +“Is that the way one says ‘Good-bye’? Fool, fool!” he began. “Oh dear, what has +come to people? We’ve kept company, kept company for well-nigh a year, and now +‘Good-bye!’ and off he goes! Why, I love you, and how I pity you! You are so +forlorn, always alone, always alone. You’re somehow so unsociable. At times I +can’t sleep for thinking about you. I am so sorry for you. As the song has it: +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +It is very hard, dear brother,<br/> +In a foreign land to live. +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +So it is with you.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, good-bye,” said Olénin again. +</p> + +<p> +The old man rose and held out his hand. Olénin pressed it and turned to go. +</p> + +<p> +“Give us your mug, your mug!” +</p> + +<p> +And the old man took Olénin by the head with both hands and kissed him three +times with wet moustaches and lips, and began to cry. +</p> + +<p> +“I love you, good-bye!” +</p> + +<p> +Olénin got into the cart. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, is that how you’re going? You might give me something for a remembrance. +Give me a gun! What do you want two for?” said the old man, sobbing quite +sincerely. +</p> + +<p> +Olénin got out a musket and gave it to him. +</p> + +<p> +“What a lot you’ve given the old fellow,” murmured Vanyúsha, “he’ll never have +enough! A regular old beggar. They are all such irregular people,” he remarked, +as he wrapped himself in his overcoat and took his seat on the box. +</p> + +<p> +“Hold your tongue, swine!” exclaimed the old man, laughing. “What a stingy +fellow!” +</p> + +<p> +Maryánka came out of the cowshed, glanced indifferently at the cart, bowed and +went towards the hut. +</p> + +<p> +“<i>La fille!</i>” said Vanyúsha, with a wink, and burst out into a silly +laugh. +</p> + +<p> +“Drive on!” shouted Olénin, angrily. +</p> + +<p> +“Good-bye, my lad! Good-bye. I won’t forget you!” shouted Eróshka. +</p> + +<p> +Olénin turned round. Daddy Eróshka was talking to Maryánka, evidently about his +own affairs, and neither the old man nor the girl looked at Olénin. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div style='display:block; margin-top:4em'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE COSSACKS ***</div> +<div style='text-align:left'> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +Updated editions will replace the previous one—the old editions will +be renamed. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +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. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part +of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project +Gutenberg™ electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG™ +concept and trademark. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Cossacks + +Author: Leo Tolstoy + +Translator: Louise and Aylmer Maude + +Release Date: January 18, 2009 [EBook #4761] +Last Updated: June 1, 2018 + + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE COSSACKS *** + + + + +Etext produced by Steve Harris, Charles Franks and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team. + +HTML file produced by David Widger + + + +</pre> + + <div style="height: 8em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h1> + THE COSSACKS + </h1> + <h3> + A Tale of 1852 + </h3> + <h2> + By Leo Tolstoy + </h2> + <h4> + Translated by Louise and Aylmer Maude + </h4> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + <b>CONTENTS</b> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0001"> Chapter I </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0002"> Chapter II </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0003"> Chapter III </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0004"> Chapter IV </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0005"> Chapter V </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0006"> Chapter VI </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0007"> Chapter VII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0008"> Chapter VIII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0009"> Chapter IX </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0010"> Chapter X </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0011"> Chapter XI </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0012"> Chapter XII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0013"> Chapter XIII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0014"> Chapter XIV </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0015"> Chapter XV </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0016"> Chapter XVI </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0017"> Chapter XVII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0018"> Chapter XVIII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0019"> Chapter XIX </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0020"> Chapter XX </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0021"> Chapter XXI </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0022"> Chapter XXII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0023"> Chapter XXIII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0024"> Chapter XXIV </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0025"> Chapter XXV </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0026"> Chapter XXVI </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0027"> Chapter XXVII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0028"> Chapter XXVIII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0029"> Chapter XXIX </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0030"> Chapter XXX </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0031"> Chapter XXXI </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0032"> Chapter XXXII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0033"> Chapter XXXIII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0034"> Chapter XXXIV </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0035"> Chapter XXXV </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0036"> Chapter XXXVI </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0037"> Chapter XXXVII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0038"> Chapter XXXVIII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0039"> Chapter XXXIX </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0040"> Chapter XL </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0041"> Chapter XLI </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0042"> Chapter XLII </a> + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0001" id="link2HCH0001"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Chapter I + </h2> + <p class="pfirst"> + <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">A</span>ll is quiet in + Moscow. The squeak of wheels is seldom heard in the snow-covered street. + There are no lights left in the windows and the street lamps have been + extinguished. Only the sound of bells, borne over the city from the church + towers, suggests the approach of morning. The streets are deserted. At + rare intervals a night-cabman’s sledge kneads up the snow and sand + in the street as the driver makes his way to another corner where he falls + asleep while waiting for a fare. An old woman passes by on her way to + church, where a few wax candles burn with a red light reflected on the + gilt mountings of the icons. Workmen are already getting up after the long + winter night and going to their work—but for the gentlefolk it is + still evening. + </p> + <p> + From a window in Chevalier’s Restaurant a light—illegal at + that hour—is still to be seen through a chink in the shutter. At the + entrance a carriage, a sledge, and a cabman’s sledge, stand close + together with their backs to the curbstone. A three-horse sledge from the + post-station is there also. A yard-porter muffled up and pinched with cold + is sheltering behind the corner of the house. + </p> + <p> + ‘And what’s the good of all this jawing?’ thinks the footman + who sits in the hall weary and haggard. ‘This always happens when I’m + on duty.’ From the adjoining room are heard the voices of three + young men, sitting there at a table on which are wine and the remains of + supper. One, a rather plain, thin, neat little man, sits looking with + tired kindly eyes at his friend, who is about to start on a journey. + Another, a tall man, lies on a sofa beside a table on which are empty + bottles, and plays with his watch-key. A third, wearing a short, fur-lined + coat, is pacing up and down the room stopping now and then to crack an + almond between his strong, rather thick, but well-tended fingers. He keeps + smiling at something and his face and eyes are all aglow. He speaks warmly + and gesticulates, but evidently does not find the words he wants and those + that occur to him seem to him inadequate to express what has risen to his + heart. + </p> + <p> + ‘Now I can speak out fully,’ said the traveller. ‘I don’t + want to defend myself, but I should like you at least to understand me as + I understand myself, and not look at the matter superficially. You say I + have treated her badly,’ he continued, addressing the man with the + kindly eyes who was watching him. + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes, you are to blame,’ said the latter, and his look seemed to + express still more kindliness and weariness. + </p> + <p> + ‘I know why you say that,’ rejoined the one who was leaving. ‘To + be loved is in your opinion as great a happiness as to love, and if a man + obtains it, it is enough for his whole life.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes, quite enough, my dear fellow, more than enough!’ confirmed the + plain little man, opening and shutting his eyes. + </p> + <p> + ‘But why shouldn’t the man love too?’ said the traveller + thoughtfully, looking at his friend with something like pity. ‘Why + shouldn’t one love? Because love doesn’t come ... No, to be + beloved is a misfortune. It is a misfortune to feel guilty because you do + not give something you cannot give. O my God!’ he added, with a + gesture of his arm. ‘If it all happened reasonably, and not all + topsy-turvy—not in our way but in a way of its own! Why, it’s + as if I had stolen that love! You think so too, don’t deny it. You + must think so. But will you believe it, of all the horrid and stupid + things I have found time to do in my life—and there are many—this + is one I do not and cannot repent of. Neither at the beginning nor + afterwards did I lie to myself or to her. It seemed to me that I had at + last fallen in love, but then I saw that it was an involuntary falsehood, + and that that was not the way to love, and I could not go on, but she did. + Am I to blame that I couldn’t? What was I to do?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Well, it’s ended now!’ said his friend, lighting a cigar to + master his sleepiness. ‘The fact is that you have not yet loved and + do not know what love is.’ + </p> + <p> + The man in the fur-lined coat was going to speak again, and put his hands + to his head, but could not express what he wanted to say. + </p> + <p> + ‘Never loved! ... Yes, quite true, I never have! But after all, I have + within me a desire to love, and nothing could be stronger than that + desire! But then, again, does such love exist? There always remains + something incomplete. Ah well! What’s the use of talking? I’ve + made an awful mess of life! But anyhow it’s all over now; you are + quite right. And I feel that I am beginning a new life.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Which you will again make a mess of,’ said the man who lay on the + sofa playing with his watch-key. But the traveller did not listen to him. + </p> + <p> + ‘I am sad and yet glad to go,’ he continued. ‘Why I am sad I + don’t know.’ + </p> + <p> + And the traveller went on talking about himself, without noticing that + this did not interest the others as much as it did him. A man is never + such an egotist as at moments of spiritual ecstasy. At such times it seems + to him that there is nothing on earth more splendid and interesting than + himself. + </p> + <p> + ‘Dmitri Andreich! The coachman won’t wait any longer!’ said a + young serf, entering the room in a sheepskin coat, with a scarf tied round + his head. ‘The horses have been standing since twelve, and it’s + now four o’clock!’ + </p> + <p> + Dmitri Andreich looked at his serf, Vanyusha. The scarf round Vanyusha’s + head, his felt boots and sleepy face, seemed to be calling his master to a + new life of labour, hardship, and activity. + </p> + <p> + ‘True enough! Good-bye!’ said he, feeling for the unfastened hook + and eye on his coat. + </p> + <p> + In spite of advice to mollify the coachman by another tip, he put on his + cap and stood in the middle of the room. The friends kissed once, then + again, and after a pause, a third time. The man in the fur-lined coat + approached the table and emptied a champagne glass, then took the plain + little man’s hand and blushed. + </p> + <p> + ‘Ah well, I will speak out all the same ... I must and will be frank with + you because I am fond of you ... Of course you love her—I always + thought so—don’t you?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes,’ answered his friend, smiling still more gently. + </p> + <p> + ‘And perhaps...’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Please sir, I have orders to put out the candles,’ said the sleepy + attendant, who had been listening to the last part of the conversation and + wondering why gentlefolk always talk about one and the same thing. ‘To + whom shall I make out the bill? To you, sir?’ he added, knowing whom + to address and turning to the tall man. + </p> + <p> + ‘To me,’ replied the tall man. ‘How much?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Twenty-six rubles.’ + </p> + <p> + The tall man considered for a moment, but said nothing and put the bill in + his pocket. + </p> + <p> + The other two continued their talk. + </p> + <p> + ‘Good-bye, you are a capital fellow!’ said the short plain man with + the mild eyes. Tears filled the eyes of both. They stepped into the porch. + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, by the by,’ said the traveller, turning with a blush to the + tall man, ‘will you settle Chevalier’s bill and write and let + me know?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘All right, all right!’ said the tall man, pulling on his gloves. + ‘How I envy you!’ he added quite unexpectedly when they were + out in the porch. + </p> + <p> + The traveller got into his sledge, wrapped his coat about him, and said: + ‘Well then, come along!’ He even moved a little to make room + in the sledge for the man who said he envied him—his voice trembled. + </p> + <p> + ‘Good-bye, Mitya! I hope that with God’s help you...’ said the + tall one. But his wish was that the other would go away quickly, and so he + could not finish the sentence. + </p> + <p> + They were silent a moment. Then someone again said, ‘Good-bye,’ + and a voice cried, ‘Ready,’ and the coachman touched up the + horses. + </p> + <p> + ‘Hy, Elisar!’ One of the friends called out, and the other coachman + and the sledge-drivers began moving, clicking their tongues and pulling at + the reins. Then the stiffened carriage-wheels rolled squeaking over the + frozen snow. + </p> + <p> + ‘A fine fellow, that Olenin!’ said one of the friends. ‘But + what an idea to go to the Caucasus—as a cadet, too! I wouldn’t + do it for anything. ... Are you dining at the club to-morrow?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes.’ + </p> + <p> + They separated. + </p> + <p> + The traveller felt warm, his fur coat seemed too hot. He sat on the bottom + of the sledge and unfastened his coat, and the three shaggy post-horses + dragged themselves out of one dark street into another, past houses he had + never before seen. It seemed to Olenin that only travellers starting on a + long journey went through those streets. All was dark and silent and dull + around him, but his soul was full of memories, love, regrets, and a + pleasant tearful feeling. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0002" id="link2HCH0002"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Chapter II + </h2> + <p class="pfirst"> + <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">'I</span>M fond + of them, very fond! ... First-rate fellows! ... Fine!’ he kept + repeating, and felt ready to cry. But why he wanted to cry, who were the + first-rate fellows he was so fond of—was more than he quite knew. + Now and then he looked round at some house and wondered why it was so + curiously built; sometimes he began wondering why the post-boy and + Vanyusha, who were so different from himself, sat so near, and together + with him were being jerked about and swayed by the tugs the side-horses + gave at the frozen traces, and again he repeated: ‘First rate ... + very fond!’ and once he even said: ‘And how it seizes one ... + excellent!’ and wondered what made him say it. ‘Dear me, am I + drunk?’ he asked himself. He had had a couple of bottles of wine, + but it was not the wine alone that was having this effect on Olenin. He + remembered all the words of friendship heartily, bashfully, spontaneously + (as he believed) addressed to him on his departure. He remembered the + clasp of hands, glances, the moments of silence, and the sound of a voice + saying, ‘Good-bye, Mitya!’ when he was already in the sledge. + He remembered his own deliberate frankness. And all this had a touching + significance for him. Not only friends and relatives, not only people who + had been indifferent to him, but even those who did not like him, seemed + to have agreed to become fonder of him, or to forgive him, before his + departure, as people do before confession or death. ‘Perhaps I shall + not return from the Caucasus,’ he thought. And he felt that he loved + his friends and some one besides. He was sorry for himself. But it was not + love for his friends that so stirred and uplifted his heart that he could + not repress the meaningless words that seemed to rise of themselves to his + lips; nor was it love for a woman (he had never yet been in love) that had + brought on this mood. Love for himself, love full of hope—warm young + love for all that was good in his own soul (and at that moment it seemed + to him that there was nothing but good in it)—compelled him to weep + and to mutter incoherent words. + </p> + <p> + Olenin was a youth who had never completed his university course, never + served anywhere (having only a nominal post in some government office or + other), who had squandered half his fortune and had reached the age of + twenty-four without having done anything or even chosen a career. He was + what in Moscow society is termed un jeune homme. + </p> + <p> + At the age of eighteen he was free—as only rich young Russians in + the ‘forties who had lost their parents at an early age could be. Neither + physical nor moral fetters of any kind existed for him; he could do as he + liked, lacking nothing and bound by nothing. Neither relatives, nor + fatherland, nor religion, nor wants, existed for him. He believed in + nothing and admitted nothing. But although he believed in nothing he was + not a morose or blase young man, nor self-opinionated, but on the contrary + continually let himself be carried away. He had come to the conclusion + that there is no such thing as love, yet his heart always overflowed in + the presence of any young and attractive woman. He had long been aware + that honours and position were nonsense, yet involuntarily he felt pleased + when at a ball Prince Sergius came up and spoke to him affably. But he + yielded to his impulses only in so far as they did not limit his freedom. + As soon as he had yielded to any influence and became conscious of its + leading on to labour and struggle, he instinctively hastened to free + himself from the feeling or activity into which he was being drawn and to + regain his freedom. In this way he experimented with society-life, the + civil service, farming, music—to which at one time he intended to + devote his life—and even with the love of women in which he did not + believe. He meditated on the use to which he should devote that power of + youth which is granted to man only once in a lifetime: that force which + gives a man the power of making himself, or even—as it seemed to him—of + making the universe, into anything he wishes: should it be to art, to + science, to love of woman, or to practical activities? It is true that + some people are devoid of this impulse, and on entering life at once place + their necks under the first yoke that offers itself and honestly labour + under it for the rest of their lives. But Olenin was too strongly + conscious of the presence of that all-powerful God of Youth—of that + capacity to be entirely transformed into an aspiration or idea—the + capacity to wish and to do—to throw oneself headlong into a + bottomless abyss without knowing why or wherefore. He bore this + consciousness within himself, was proud of it and, without knowing it, was + happy in that consciousness. Up to that time he had loved only himself, + and could not help loving himself, for he expected nothing but good of + himself and had not yet had time to be disillusioned. On leaving Moscow he + was in that happy state of mind in which a young man, conscious of past + mistakes, suddenly says to himself, ‘That was not the real thing.’ + All that had gone before was accidental and unimportant. Till then he had + not really tried to live, but now with his departure from Moscow a new + life was beginning—a life in which there would be no mistakes, no + remorse, and certainly nothing but happiness. + </p> + <p> + It is always the case on a long journey that till the first two or three + stages have been passed imagination continues to dwell on the place left + behind, but with the first morning on the road it leaps to the end of the + journey and there begins building castles in the air. So it happened to + Olenin. + </p> + <p> + After leaving the town behind, he gazed at the snowy fields and felt glad + to be alone in their midst. Wrapping himself in his fur coat, he lay at + the bottom of the sledge, became tranquil, and fell into a doze. The + parting with his friends had touched him deeply, and memories of that last + winter spent in Moscow and images of the past, mingled with vague thoughts + and regrets, rose unbidden in his imagination. + </p> + <p> + He remembered the friend who had seen him off and his relations with the + girl they had talked about. The girl was rich. “How could he love + her knowing that she loved me?” thought he, and evil suspicions + crossed his mind. “There is much dishonesty in men when one comes to + reflect.” Then he was confronted by the question: “But really, + how is it I have never been in love? Every one tells me that I never have. + Can it be that I am a moral monstrosity?” And he began to recall all + his infatuations. He recalled his entry into society, and a friend’s + sister with whom he spent several evenings at a table with a lamp on it + which lit up her slender fingers busy with needlework, and the lower part + of her pretty delicate face. He recalled their conversations that dragged + on like the game in which one passes on a stick which one keeps alight as + long as possible, and the general awkwardness and restraint and his + continual feeling of rebellion at all that conventionality. Some voice had + always whispered: “That’s not it, that’s not it,” + and so it had proved. Then he remembered a ball and the mazurka he danced + with the beautiful D——. “How much in love I was that + night and how happy! And how hurt and vexed I was next morning when I woke + and felt myself still free! Why does not love come and bind me hand and + foot?” thought he. “No, there is no such thing as love! That + neighbour who used to tell me, as she told Dubrovin and the Marshal, that + she loved the stars, was not IT either.” And now his farming and + work in the country recurred to his mind, and in those recollections also + there was nothing to dwell on with pleasure. “Will they talk long of + my departure?” came into his head; but who “they” were + he did not quite know. Next came a thought that made him wince and mutter + incoherently. It was the recollection of M. Cappele the tailor, and the + six hundred and seventy-eight rubles he still owed him, and he recalled + the words in which he had begged him to wait another year, and the look of + perplexity and resignation which had appeared on the tailor’s face. + ‘Oh, my God, my God!’ he repeated, wincing and trying to drive + away the intolerable thought. ‘All the same and in spite of + everything she loved me,’ thought he of the girl they had talked + about at the farewell supper. ‘Yes, had I married her I should not + now be owing anything, and as it is I am in debt to Vasilyev.’ Then + he remembered the last night he had played with Vasilyev at the club (just + after leaving her), and he recalled his humiliating requests for another + game and the other’s cold refusal. ‘A year’s economizing + and they will all be paid, and the devil take them!’... But despite + this assurance he again began calculating his outstanding debts, their + dates, and when he could hope to pay them off. ‘And I owe something to + Morell as well as to Chevalier,’ thought he, recalling the night + when he had run up so large a debt. It was at a carousel at the gipsies + arranged by some fellows from Petersburg: Sashka B—-, an + aide-de-camp to the Tsar, Prince D—-, and that pompous old——. + ‘How is it those gentlemen are so self-satisfied?’ thought he, + ‘and by what right do they form a clique to which they think others must + be highly flattered to be admitted? Can it be because they are on the + Emperor’s staff? Why, it’s awful what fools and scoundrels + they consider other people to be! But I showed them that I at any rate, on + the contrary, do not at all want their intimacy. All the same, I fancy + Andrew, the steward, would be amazed to know that I am on familiar terms + with a man like Sashka B—-, a colonel and an aide-de-camp to the + Tsar! Yes, and no one drank more than I did that evening, and I taught the + gipsies a new song and everyone listened to it. Though I have done many + foolish things, all the same I am a very good fellow,’ thought he. + </p> + <p> + Morning found him at the third post-stage. He drank tea, and himself + helped Vanyusha to move his bundles and trunks and sat down among them, + sensible, erect, and precise, knowing where all his belongings were, how + much money he had and where it was, where he had put his passport and the + post-horse requisition and toll-gate papers, and it all seemed to him so + well arranged that he grew quite cheerful and the long journey before him + seemed an extended pleasure-trip. + </p> + <p> + All that morning and noon he was deep in calculations of how many versts + he had travelled, how many remained to the next stage, how many to the + next town, to the place where he would dine, to the place where he would + drink tea, and to Stavropol, and what fraction of the whole journey was + already accomplished. He also calculated how much money he had with him, + how much would be left over, how much would pay off all his debts, and + what proportion of his income he would spend each month. Towards evening, + after tea, he calculated that to Stavropol there still remained + seven-elevenths of the whole journey, that his debts would require seven + months’ economy and one-eighth of his whole fortune; and then, + tranquillized, he wrapped himself up, lay down in the sledge, and again + dozed off. His imagination was now turned to the future: to the Caucasus. + All his dreams of the future were mingled with pictures of Amalat-Beks, + Circassian women, mountains, precipices, terrible torrents, and perils. + All these things were vague and dim, but the love of fame and the danger + of death furnished the interest of that future. Now, with unprecedented + courage and a strength that amazed everyone, he slew and subdued an + innumerable host of hillsmen; now he was himself a hillsman and with them + was maintaining their independence against the Russians. As soon as he + pictured anything definite, familiar Moscow figures always appeared on the + scene. Sashka B—-fights with the Russians or the hillsmen against + him. Even the tailor Cappele in some strange way takes part in the + conqueror’s triumph. Amid all this he remembered his former + humiliations, weaknesses, and mistakes, and the recollection was not + disagreeable. It was clear that there among the mountains, waterfalls, + fair Circassians, and dangers, such mistakes could not recur. Having once + made full confession to himself there was an end of it all. One other + vision, the sweetest of them all, mingled with the young man’s every + thought of the future—the vision of a woman. + </p> + <p> + And there, among the mountains, she appeared to his imagination as a + Circassian slave, a fine figure with a long plait of hair and deep + submissive eyes. He pictured a lonely hut in the mountains, and on the + threshold she stands awaiting him when, tired and covered with dust, + blood, and fame, he returns to her. He is conscious of her kisses, her + shoulders, her sweet voice, and her submissiveness. She is enchanting, but + uneducated, wild, and rough. In the long winter evenings he begins her + education. She is clever and gifted and quickly acquires all the knowledge + essential. Why not? She can quite easily learn foreign languages, read the + French masterpieces and understand them: Notre Dame de Paris, for + instance, is sure to please her. She can also speak French. In a + drawing-room she can show more innate dignity than a lady of the highest + society. She can sing, simply, powerfully, and passionately.... ‘Oh, + what nonsense!’ said he to himself. But here they reached a + post-station and he had to change into another sledge and give some tips. + But his fancy again began searching for the ‘nonsense’ he had + relinquished, and again fair Circassians, glory, and his return to Russia + with an appointment as aide-de-camp and a lovely wife rose before his + imagination. ‘But there’s no such thing as love,’ said + he to himself. ‘Fame is all rubbish. But the six hundred and + seventy-eight rubles? ... And the conquered land that will bring me more + wealth than I need for a lifetime? It will not be right though to keep all + that wealth for myself. I shall have to distribute it. But to whom? Well, + six hundred and seventy-eight rubles to Cappele and then we’ll see.’ + ... Quite vague visions now cloud his mind, and only Vanyusha’s + voice and the interrupted motion of the sledge break his healthy youthful + slumber. Scarcely conscious, he changes into another sledge at the next + stage and continues his journey. + </p> + <p> + Next morning everything goes on just the same: the same kind of + post-stations and tea-drinking, the same moving horses’ cruppers, + the same short talks with Vanyusha, the same vague dreams and drowsiness, + and the same tired, healthy, youthful sleep at night. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0003" id="link2HCH0003"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Chapter III + </h2> + <p class="pfirst"> + <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>he farther Olenin + travelled from Central Russia the farther he left his memories behind, and + the nearer he drew to the Caucasus the lighter his heart became. “I’ll + stay away for good and never return to show myself in society,” was + a thought that sometimes occurred to him. “These people whom I see + here are NOT people. None of them know me and none of them can ever enter + the Moscow society I was in or find out about my past. And no one in that + society will ever know what I am doing, living among these people.” + And quite a new feeling of freedom from his whole past came over him among + the rough beings he met on the road whom he did not consider to be PEOPLE + in the sense that his Moscow acquaintances were. The rougher the people + and the fewer the signs of civilization the freer he felt. Stavropol, + through which he had to pass, irked him. The signboards, some of them even + in French, ladies in carriages, cabs in the marketplace, and a gentleman + wearing a fur cloak and tall hat who was walking along the boulevard and + staring at the passersby, quite upset him. “Perhaps these people + know some of my acquaintances,” he thought; and the club, his + tailor, cards, society ... came back to his mind. But after Stavropol + everything was satisfactory—wild and also beautiful and warlike, and + Olenin felt happier and happier. All the Cossacks, post-boys, and + post-station masters seemed to him simple folk with whom he could jest and + converse simply, without having to consider to what class they belonged. + They all belonged to the human race which, without his thinking about it, + all appeared dear to Olenin, and they all treated him in a friendly way. + </p> + <p> + Already in the province of the Don Cossacks his sledge had been exchanged + for a cart, and beyond Stavropol it became so warm that Olenin travelled + without wearing his fur coat. It was already spring—an unexpected + joyous spring for Olenin. At night he was no longer allowed to leave the + Cossack villages, and they said it was dangerous to travel in the evening. + Vanyusha began to be uneasy, and they carried a loaded gun in the cart. + Olenin became still happier. At one of the post-stations the post-master + told of a terrible murder that had been committed recently on the high + road. They began to meet armed men. “So this is where it begins!” + thought Olenin, and kept expecting to see the snowy mountains of which + mention was so often made. Once, towards evening, the Nogay driver pointed + with his whip to the mountains shrouded in clouds. Olenin looked eagerly, + but it was dull and the mountains were almost hidden by the clouds. Olenin + made out something grey and white and fleecy, but try as he would he could + find nothing beautiful in the mountains of which he had so often read and + heard. The mountains and the clouds appeared to him quite alike, and he + thought the special beauty of the snow peaks, of which he had so often + been told, was as much an invention as Bach’s music and the love of + women, in which he did not believe. So he gave up looking forward to + seeing the mountains. But early next morning, being awakened in his cart + by the freshness of the air, he glanced carelessly to the right. The + morning was perfectly clear. Suddenly he saw, about twenty paces away as + it seemed to him at first glance, pure white gigantic masses with delicate + contours, the distinct fantastic outlines of their summits showing sharply + against the far-off sky. When he had realized the distance between himself + and them and the sky and the whole immensity of the mountains, and felt + the infinitude of all that beauty, he became afraid that it was but a + phantasm or a dream. He gave himself a shake to rouse himself, but the + mountains were still the same. + </p> + <p> + “What’s that! What is it?” he said to the driver. + </p> + <p> + “Why, the mountains,” answered the Nogay driver with + indifference. + </p> + <p> + “And I too have been looking at them for a long while,” said + Vanyusha. “Aren’t they fine? They won’t believe it at + home.” + </p> + <p> + The quick progress of the three-horsed cart along the smooth road caused + the mountains to appear to be running along the horizon, while their rosy + crests glittered in the light of the rising sun. At first Olenin was only + astonished at the sight, then gladdened by it; but later on, gazing more + and more intently at that snow-peaked chain that seemed to rise not from + among other black mountains, but straight out of the plain, and to glide + away into the distance, he began by slow degrees to be penetrated by their + beauty and at length to FEEL the mountains. From that moment all he saw, + all he thought, and all he felt, acquired for him a new character, sternly + majestic like the mountains! All his Moscow reminiscences, shame, and + repentance, and his trivial dreams about the Caucasus, vanished and did + not return. ‘Now it has begun,’ a solemn voice seemed to say + to him. The road and the Terek, just becoming visible in the distance, and + the Cossack villages and the people, all no longer appeared to him as a + joke. He looked at himself or Vanyusha, and again thought of the + mountains. ... Two Cossacks ride by, their guns in their cases swinging + rhythmically behind their backs, the white and bay legs of their horses + mingling confusedly ... and the mountains! Beyond the Terek rises the + smoke from a Tartar village... and the mountains! The sun has risen and + glitters on the Terek, now visible beyond the reeds ... and the mountains! + From the village comes a Tartar wagon, and women, beautiful young women, + pass by... and the mountains! ‘Abreks canter about the plain, and + here am I driving along and do not fear them! I have a gun, and strength, + and youth... and the mountains!’ + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0004" id="link2HCH0004"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Chapter IV + </h2> + <p class="pfirst"> + <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>hat whole part of + the Terek line (about fifty miles) along which lie the villages of the + Grebensk Cossacks is uniform in character both as to country and + inhabitants. The Terek, which separates the Cossacks from the + mountaineers, still flows turbid and rapid though already broad and + smooth, always depositing greyish sand on its low reedy right bank and + washing away the steep, though not high, left bank, with its roots of + century-old oaks, its rotting plane trees, and young brushwood. On the + right bank lie the villages of pro-Russian, though still somewhat + restless, Tartars. Along the left bank, back half a mile from the river + and standing five or six miles apart from one another, are Cossack + villages. In olden times most of these villages were situated on the banks + of the river; but the Terek, shifting northward from the mountains year by + year, washed away those banks, and now there remain only the ruins of the + old villages and of the gardens of pear and plum trees and poplars, all + overgrown with blackberry bushes and wild vines. No one lives there now, + and one only sees the tracks of the deer, the wolves, the hares, and the + pheasants, who have learned to love these places. From village to village + runs a road cut through the forest as a cannon-shot might fly. Along the + roads are cordons of Cossacks and watch-towers with sentinels in them. + Only a narrow strip about seven hundred yards wide of fertile wooded soil + belongs to the Cossacks. To the north of it begin the sand-drifts of the + Nogay or Mozdok steppes, which fetch far to the north and run, Heaven + knows where, into the Trukhmen, Astrakhan, and Kirghiz-Kaisatsk steppes. + To the south, beyond the Terek, are the Great Chechnya river, the + Kochkalov range, the Black Mountains, yet another range, and at last the + snowy mountains, which can just be seen but have never yet been scaled. In + this fertile wooded strip, rich in vegetation, has dwelt as far back as + memory runs the fine warlike and prosperous Russian tribe belonging to the + sect of Old Believers, and called the Grebensk Cossacks. + </p> + <p> + Long long ago their Old Believer ancestors fled from Russia and settled + beyond the Terek among the Chechens on the Greben, the first range of + wooded mountains of Chechnya. Living among the Chechens the Cossacks + intermarried with them and adopted the manners and customs of the hill + tribes, though they still retained the Russian language in all its purity, + as well as their Old Faith. A tradition, still fresh among them, declares + that Tsar Ivan the Terrible came to the Terek, sent for their Elders, and + gave them the land on this side of the river, exhorting them to remain + friendly to Russia and promising not to enforce his rule upon them nor + oblige them to change their faith. Even now the Cossack families claim + relationship with the Chechens, and the love of freedom, of leisure, of + plunder and of war, still form their chief characteristics. Only the + harmful side of Russian influence shows itself—by interference at + elections, by confiscation of church bells, and by the troops who are + quartered in the country or march through it. A Cossack is inclined to + hate less the dzhigit hillsman who maybe has killed his brother, than the + soldier quartered on him to defend his village, but who has defiled his + hut with tobacco-smoke. He respects his enemy the hillsman and despises + the soldier, who is in his eyes an alien and an oppressor. In reality, + from a Cossack’s point of view a Russian peasant is a foreign, + savage, despicable creature, of whom he sees a sample in the hawkers who + come to the country and in the Ukrainian immigrants whom the Cossack + contemptuously calls ‘woolbeaters’. For him, to be smartly dressed + means to be dressed like a Circassian. The best weapons are obtained from + the hillsmen and the best horses are bought, or stolen, from them. A + dashing young Cossack likes to show off his knowledge of Tartar, and when + carousing talks Tartar even to his fellow Cossack. In spite of all these + things this small Christian clan stranded in a tiny corner of the earth, + surrounded by half-savage Mohammedan tribes and by soldiers, considers + itself highly advanced, acknowledges none but Cossacks as human beings, + and despises everybody else. The Cossack spends most of his time in the + cordon, in action, or in hunting and fishing. He hardly ever works at + home. When he stays in the village it is an exception to the general rule + and then he is holiday-making. All Cossacks make their own wine, and + drunkenness is not so much a general tendency as a rite, the + non-fulfilment of which would be considered apostasy. The Cossack looks + upon a woman as an instrument for his welfare; only the unmarried girls + are allowed to amuse themselves. A married woman has to work for her + husband from youth to very old age: his demands on her are the Oriental + ones of submission and labour. In consequence of this outlook women are + strongly developed both physically and mentally, and though they are—as + everywhere in the East—nominally in subjection, they possess far + greater influence and importance in family-life than Western women. Their + exclusion from public life and inurement to heavy male labour give the + women all the more power and importance in the household. A Cossack, who + before strangers considers it improper to speak affectionately or + needlessly to his wife, when alone with her is involuntarily conscious of + her superiority. His house and all his property, in fact the entire + homestead, has been acquired and is kept together solely by her labour and + care. Though firmly convinced that labour is degrading to a Cossack and is + only proper for a Nogay labourer or a woman, he is vaguely aware of the + fact that all he makes use of and calls his own is the result of that + toil, and that it is in the power of the woman (his mother or his wife) + whom he considers his slave, to deprive him of all he possesses. Besides, + the continuous performance of man’s heavy work and the + responsibilities entrusted to her have endowed the Grebensk women with a + peculiarly independent masculine character and have remarkably developed + their physical powers, common sense, resolution, and stability. The women + are in most cases stronger, more intelligent, more developed, and + handsomer than the men. A striking feature of a Grebensk woman’s + beauty is the combination of the purest Circassian type of face with the + broad and powerful build of Northern women. Cossack women wear the + Circassian dress—a Tartar smock, beshmet, and soft slippers—but + they tie their kerchiefs round their heads in the Russian fashion. + Smartness, cleanliness and elegance in dress and in the arrangement of + their huts, are with them a custom and a necessity. In their relations + with men the women, and especially the unmarried girls, enjoy perfect + freedom. + </p> + <p> + Novomlinsk village was considered the very heart of Grebensk Cossackdom. + In it more than elsewhere the customs of the old Grebensk population have + been preserved, and its women have from time immemorial been renowned all + over the Caucasus for their beauty. A Cossack’s livelihood is + derived from vineyards, fruit-gardens, water melon and pumpkin + plantations, from fishing, hunting, maize and millet growing, and from war + plunder. Novomlinsk village lies about two and a half miles away from the + Terek, from which it is separated by a dense forest. On one side of the + road which runs through the village is the river; on the other, green + vineyards and orchards, beyond which are seen the driftsands of the Nogay + Steppe. The village is surrounded by earth-banks and prickly bramble + hedges, and is entered by tall gates hung between posts and covered with + little reed-thatched roofs. Beside them on a wooden gun-carriage stands an + unwieldy cannon captured by the Cossacks at some time or other, and which + has not been fired for a hundred years. A uniformed Cossack sentinel with + dagger and gun sometimes stands, and sometimes does not stand, on guard + beside the gates, and sometimes presents arms to a passing officer and + sometimes does not. Below the roof of the gateway is written in black + letters on a white board: ‘Houses 266: male inhabitants 897: female + 1012.’ The Cossacks’ houses are all raised on pillars two and + a half feet from the ground. They are carefully thatched with reeds and + have large carved gables. If not new they are at least all straight and + clean, with high porches of different shapes; and they are not built close + together but have ample space around them, and are all picturesquely + placed along broad streets and lanes. In front of the large bright windows + of many of the houses, beyond the kitchen gardens, dark green poplars and + acacias with their delicate pale verdure and scented white blossoms + overtop the houses, and beside them grow flaunting yellow sunflowers, + creepers, and grape vines. In the broad open square are three shops where + drapery, sunflower and pumpkin seeds, locust beans and gingerbreads are + sold; and surrounded by a tall fence, loftier and larger than the other + houses, stands the Regimental Commander’s dwelling with its casement + windows, behind a row of tall poplars. Few people are to be seen in the + streets of the village on weekdays, especially in summer. The young men + are on duty in the cordons or on military expeditions; the old ones are + fishing or helping the women in the orchards and gardens. Only the very + old, the sick, and the children, remain at home. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0005" id="link2HCH0005"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Chapter V + </h2> + <p class="pfirst"> + <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">I</span>t was one of those + wonderful evenings that occur only in the Caucasus. The sun had sunk + behind the mountains but it was still light. The evening glow had spread + over a third of the sky, and against its brilliancy the dull white + immensity of the mountains was sharply defined. The air was rarefied, + motionless, and full of sound. The shadow of the mountains reached for + several miles over the steppe. The steppe, the opposite side of the river, + and the roads, were all deserted. If very occasionally mounted men + appeared, the Cossacks in the cordon and the Chechens in their aouls + (villages) watched them with surprised curiosity and tried to guess who + those questionable men could be. At nightfall people from fear of one + another flock to their dwellings, and only birds and beasts fearless of + man prowl in those deserted spaces. Talking merrily, the women who have + been tying up the vines hurry away from the gardens before sunset. The + vineyards, like all the surrounding district, are deserted, but the + villages become very animated at that time of the evening. From all sides, + walking, riding, or driving in their creaking carts, people move towards + the village. Girls with their smocks tucked up and twigs in their hands + run chatting merrily to the village gates to meet the cattle that are + crowding together in a cloud of dust and mosquitoes which they bring with + them from the steppe. The well-fed cows and buffaloes disperse at a run + all over the streets and Cossack women in coloured beshmets go to and fro + among them. You can hear their merry laughter and shrieks mingling with + the lowing of the cattle. There an armed and mounted Cossack, on leave + from the cordon, rides up to a hut and, leaning towards the window, + knocks. In answer to the knock the handsome head of a young woman appears + at the window and you can hear caressing, laughing voices. There a + tattered Nogay labourer, with prominent cheekbones, brings a load of reeds + from the steppes, turns his creaking cart into the Cossack captain’s + broad and clean courtyard, and lifts the yoke off the oxen that stand + tossing their heads while he and his master shout to one another in + Tartar. Past a puddle that reaches nearly across the street, a barefooted + Cossack woman with a bundle of firewood on her back makes her laborious + way by clinging to the fences, holding her smock high and exposing her + white legs. A Cossack returning from shooting calls out in jest: ‘Lift + it higher, shameless thing!’ and points his gun at her. The woman + lets down her smock and drops the wood. An old Cossack, returning home + from fishing with his trousers tucked up and his hairy grey chest + uncovered, has a net across his shoulder containing silvery fish that are + still struggling; and to take a short cut climbs over his neighbour’s + broken fence and gives a tug to his coat which has caught on the fence. + There a woman is dragging a dry branch along and from round the corner + comes the sound of an axe. Cossack children, spinning their tops wherever + there is a smooth place in the street, are shrieking; women are climbing + over fences to avoid going round. From every chimney rises the odorous + kisyak smoke. From every homestead comes the sound of increased bustle, + precursor to the stillness of night. + </p> + <p> + Granny Ulitka, the wife of the Cossack cornet who is also teacher in the + regimental school, goes out to the gates of her yard like the other women, + and waits for the cattle which her daughter Maryanka is driving along the + street. Before she has had time fully to open the wattle gate in the + fence, an enormous buffalo cow surrounded by mosquitoes rushes up + bellowing and squeezes in. Several well-fed cows slowly follow her, their + large eyes gazing with recognition at their mistress as they swish their + sides with their tails. The beautiful and shapely Maryanka enters at the + gate and throwing away her switch quickly slams the gate to and rushes + with all the speed of her nimble feet to separate and drive the cattle + into their sheds. ‘Take off your slippers, you devil’s wench!’ + shouts her mother, ‘you’ve worn them into holes!’ + Maryanka is not at all offended at being called a ‘devil’s + wench’, but accepting it as a term of endearment cheerfully goes on + with her task. Her face is covered with a kerchief tied round her head. + She is wearing a pink smock and a green beshmet. She disappears inside the + lean-to shed in the yard, following the big fat cattle; and from the shed + comes her voice as she speaks gently and persuasively to the buffalo: + ‘Won’t she stand still? What a creature! Come now, come old + dear!’ Soon the girl and the old woman pass from the shed to the + dairy carrying two large pots of milk, the day’s yield. From the + dairy chimney rises a thin cloud of kisyak smoke: the milk is being used + to make into clotted cream. The girl makes up the fire while her mother + goes to the gate. Twilight has fallen on the village. The air is full of + the smell of vegetables, cattle, and scented kisyak smoke. From the gates + and along the streets Cossack women come running, carrying lighted rags. + From the yards one hears the snorting and quiet chewing of the cattle + eased of their milk, while in the street only the voices of women and + children sound as they call to one another. It is rare on a week-day to + hear the drunken voice of a man. + </p> + <p> + One of the Cossack wives, a tall, masculine old woman, approaches Granny + Ulitka from the homestead opposite and asks her for a light. In her hand + she holds a rag. + </p> + <p> + ‘Have you cleared up. Granny?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘The girl is lighting the fire. Is it fire you want?’ says Granny + Ulitka, proud of being able to oblige her neighbour. + </p> + <p> + Both women enter the hut, and coarse hands unused to dealing with small + articles tremblingly lift the lid of a matchbox, which is a rarity in the + Caucasus. The masculine-looking new-comer sits down on the doorstep with + the evident intention of having a chat. + </p> + <p> + ‘And is your man at the school. Mother?’ she asked. + </p> + <p> + ‘He’s always teaching the youngsters. Mother. But he writes that he’ll + come home for the holidays,’ said the cornet’s wife. + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes, he’s a clever man, one sees; it all comes useful.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Of course it does.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘And my Lukashka is at the cordon; they won’t let him come home,’ + said the visitor, though the cornet’s wife had known all this long + ago. She wanted to talk about her Lukashka whom she had lately fitted out + for service in the Cossack regiment, and whom she wished to marry to the + cornet’s daughter, Maryanka. + </p> + <p> + ‘So he’s at the cordon?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘He is. Mother. He’s not been home since last holidays. The other + day I sent him some shirts by Fomushkin. He says he’s all right, and + that his superiors are satisfied. He says they are looking out for abreks + again. Lukashka is quite happy, he says.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Ah well, thank God,’ said the cornet’s wife.’ “Snatcher” + is certainly the only word for him.’ Lukashka was surnamed ‘the + Snatcher’ because of his bravery in snatching a boy from a watery + grave, and the cornet’s wife alluded to this, wishing in her turn to + say something agreeable to Lukashka’s mother. + </p> + <p> + ‘I thank God, Mother, that he’s a good son! He’s a fine + fellow, everyone praises him,’ says Lukashka’s mother. ‘All + I wish is to get him married; then I could die in peace.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Well, aren’t there plenty of young women in the village?’ + answered the cornet’s wife slyly as she carefully replaced the lid + of the matchbox with her horny hands. + </p> + <p> + ‘Plenty, Mother, plenty,’ remarked Lukashka’s mother, shaking + her head. ‘There’s your girl now, your Maryanka—that’s + the sort of girl! You’d have to search through the whole place to + find such another!’ The cornet’s wife knows what Lukashka’s + mother is after, but though she believes him to be a good Cossack she + hangs back: first because she is a cornet’s wife and rich, while + Lukashka is the son of a simple Cossack and fatherless, secondly because + she does not want to part with her daughter yet, but chiefly because + propriety demands it. + </p> + <p> + ‘Well, when Maryanka grows up she’ll be marriageable too,’ she + answers soberly and modestly. + </p> + <p> + ‘I’ll send the matchmakers to you—I’ll send them! Only + let me get the vineyard done and then we’ll come and make our bows + to you,’ says Lukashka’s mother. ‘And we’ll make + our bows to Elias Vasilich too.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Elias, indeed!’ says the cornet’s wife proudly. ‘It’s + to me you must speak! All in its own good time.’ + </p> + <p> + Lukashka’s mother sees by the stern face of the cornet’s wife + that it is not the time to say anything more just now, so she lights her + rag with the match and says, rising: ‘Don’t refuse us, think + of my words. I’ll go, it is time to light the fire.’ + </p> + <p> + As she crosses the road swinging the burning rag, she meets Maryanka, who + bows. + </p> + <p> + ‘Ah, she’s a regular queen, a splendid worker, that girl!’ she + thinks, looking at the beautiful maiden. ‘What need for her to grow + any more? It’s time she was married and to a good home; married to + Lukashka!’ + </p> + <p> + But Granny Ulitka had her own cares and she remained sitting on the + threshold thinking hard about something, till the girl called her. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0006" id="link2HCH0006"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Chapter VI + </h2> + <p class="pfirst"> + <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>he male population + of the village spend their time on military expeditions and in the cordon—or + ‘at their posts’, as the Cossacks say. Towards evening, that + same Lukashka the Snatcher, about whom the old women had been talking, was + standing on a watch-tower of the Nizhni-Prototsk post situated on the very + banks of the Terek. Leaning on the railing of the tower and screwing up + his eyes, he looked now far into the distance beyond the Terek, now down + at his fellow Cossacks, and occasionally he addressed the latter. The sun + was already approaching the snowy range that gleamed white above the + fleecy clouds. The clouds undulating at the base of the mountains grew + darker and darker. The clearness of evening was noticeable in the air. A + sense of freshness came from the woods, though round the post it was still + hot. The voices of the talking Cossacks vibrated more sonorously than + before. The moving mass of the Terek’s rapid brown waters contrasted + more vividly with its motionless banks. The waters were beginning to + subside and here and there the wet sands gleamed drab on the banks and in + the shallows. The other side of the river, just opposite the cordon, was + deserted; only an immense waste of low-growing reeds stretched far away to + the very foot of the mountains. On the low bank, a little to one side, + could be seen the flat-roofed clay houses and the funnel-shaped chimneys + of a Chechen village. The sharp eyes of the Cossack who stood on the + watch-tower followed, through the evening smoke of the pro-Russian + village, the tiny moving figures of the Chechen women visible in the + distance in their red and blue garments. + </p> + <p> + Although the Cossacks expected abreks to cross over and attack them from + the Tartar side at any moment, especially as it was May when the woods by + the Terek are so dense that it is difficult to pass through them on foot + and the river is shallow enough in places for a horseman to ford it, and + despite the fact that a couple of days before a Cossack had arrived with a + circular from the commander of the regiment announcing that spies had + reported the intention of a party of some eight men to cross the Terek, + and ordering special vigilance—no special vigilance was being + observed in the cordon. The Cossacks, unarmed and with their horses + unsaddled just as if they were at home, spent their time some in fishing, + some in drinking, and some in hunting. Only the horse of the man on duty + was saddled, and with its feet hobbled was moving about by the brambles + near the wood, and only the sentinel had his Circassian coat on and + carried a gun and sword. The corporal, a tall thin Cossack with an + exceptionally long back and small hands and feet, was sitting on the + earth-bank of a hut with his beshmet unbuttoned. On his face was the lazy, + bored expression of a superior, and having shut his eyes he dropped his + head upon the palm first of one hand and then of the other. An elderly + Cossack with a broad greyish-black beard was lying in his shirt, girdled + with a black strap, close to the river and gazing lazily at the waves of + the Terek as they monotonously foamed and swirled. Others, also overcome + by the heat and half naked, were rinsing clothes in the Terek, plaiting a + fishing line, or humming tunes as they lay on the hot sand of the river + bank. One Cossack, with a thin face much burnt by the sun, lay near the + hut evidently dead drunk, by a wall which though it had been in shadow + some two hours previously was now exposed to the sun’s fierce + slanting rays. + </p> + <p> + Lukashka, who stood on the watch-tower, was a tall handsome lad about + twenty years old and very like his mother. His face and whole build, in + spite of the angularity of youth, indicated great strength, both physical + and moral. Though he had only lately joined the Cossacks at the front, it + was evident from the expression of his face and the calm assurance of his + attitude that he had already acquired the somewhat proud and warlike + bearing peculiar to Cossacks and to men generally who continually carry + arms, and that he felt he was a Cossack and fully knew his own value. His + ample Circassian coat was torn in some places, his cap was on the back of + his head Chechen fashion, and his leggings had slipped below his knees. + His clothing was not rich, but he wore it with that peculiar Cossack + foppishness which consists in imitating the Chechen brave. Everything on a + real brave is ample, ragged, and neglected, only his weapons are costly. + But these ragged clothes and these weapons are belted and worn with a + certain air and matched in a certain manner, neither of which can be + acquired by everybody and which at once strike the eye of a Cossack or a + hillsman. Lukashka had this resemblance to a brave. With his hands folded + under his sword, and his eyes nearly closed, he kept looking at the + distant Tartar village. Taken separately his features were not beautiful, + but anyone who saw his stately carriage and his dark-browed intelligent + face would involuntarily say, ‘What a fine fellow!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Look at the women, what a lot of them are walking about in the village,’ + said he in a sharp voice, languidly showing his brilliant white teeth and + not addressing anyone in particular. + </p> + <p> + Nazarka who was lying below immediately lifted his head and remarked: + </p> + <p> + ‘They must be going for water.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Supposing one scared them with a gun?’ said Lukashka, laughing, + ‘Wouldn’t they be frightened?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘It wouldn’t reach.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘What! Mine would carry beyond. Just wait a bit, and when their feast + comes round I’ll go and visit Girey Khan and drink buza there,’ + said Lukashka, angrily swishing away the mosquitoes which attached + themselves to him. + </p> + <p> + A rustling in the thicket drew the Cossack’s attention. A pied + mongrel half-setter, searching for a scent and violently wagging its + scantily furred tail, came running to the cordon. Lukashka recognized the + dog as one belonging to his neighbour, Uncle Eroshka, a hunter, and saw, + following it through the thicket, the approaching figure of the hunter + himself. + </p> + <p> + Uncle Eroshka was a gigantic Cossack with a broad, snow-white beard and + such broad shoulders and chest that in the wood, where there was no one to + compare him with, he did not look particularly tall, so well proportioned + were his powerful limbs. He wore a tattered coat and, over the bands with + which his legs were swathed, sandals made of undressed deer’s hide + tied on with strings; while on his head he had a rough little white cap. + He carried over one shoulder a screen to hide behind when shooting + pheasants, and a bag containing a hen for luring hawks, and a small + falcon; over the other shoulder, attached by a strap, was a wild cat he + had killed; and stuck in his belt behind were some little bags containing + bullets, gunpowder, and bread, a horse’s tail to swish away the + mosquitoes, a large dagger in a torn scabbard smeared with old + bloodstains, and two dead pheasants. Having glanced at the cordon he + stopped. + </p> + <p> + ‘Hy, Lyam!’ he called to the dog in such a ringing bass that it + awoke an echo far away in the wood; and throwing over his shoulder his big + gun, of the kind the Cossacks call a ‘flint’, he raised his + cap. + </p> + <p> + ‘Had a good day, good people, eh?’ he said, addressing the Cossacks + in the same strong and cheerful voice, quite without effort, but as loudly + as if he were shouting to someone on the other bank of the river. + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes, yes. Uncle!’ answered from all sides the voices of the young + Cossacks. + </p> + <p> + ‘What have you seen? Tell us!’ shouted Uncle Eroshka, wiping the + sweat from his broad red face with the sleeve of his coat. + </p> + <p> + ‘Ah, there’s a vulture living in the plane tree here, Uncle. As soon + as night comes he begins hovering round,’ said Nazarka, winking and + jerking his shoulder and leg. + </p> + <p> + ‘Come, come!’ said the old man incredulously. + </p> + <p> + ‘Really, Uncle! You must keep watch,’ replied Nazarka with a laugh. + </p> + <p> + The other Cossacks began laughing. + </p> + <p> + The wag had not seen any vulture at all, but it had long been the custom + of the young Cossacks in the cordon to tease and mislead Uncle Eroshka + every time he came to them. + </p> + <p> + ‘Eh, you fool, always lying!’ exclaimed Lukashka from the tower to + Nazarka. + </p> + <p> + Nazarka was immediately silenced. + </p> + <p> + ‘It must be watched. I’ll watch,’ answered the old man to the + great delight of all the Cossacks. ‘But have you seen any boars?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Watching for boars, are you?’ said the corporal, bending forward + and scratching his back with both hands, very pleased at the chance of + some distraction. ‘It’s abreks one has to hunt here and not + boars! You’ve not heard anything, Uncle, have you?’ he added, + needlessly screwing up his eyes and showing his close-set white teeth. + </p> + <p> + ‘Abreks,’ said the old man. ‘No, I haven’t. I say, have + you any chikhir? Let me have a drink, there’s a good man. I’m + really quite done up. When the time comes I’ll bring you some fresh + meat, I really will. Give me a drink!’ he added. + </p> + <p> + ‘Well, and are you going to watch?’ inquired the corporal, as though + he had not heard what the other said. + </p> + <p> + ‘I did mean to watch tonight,’ replied Uncle Eroshka. ‘Maybe, + with God’s help, I shall kill something for the holiday. Then you + shall have a share, you shall indeed!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Uncle! Hallo, Uncle!’ called out Lukashka sharply from above, + attracting everybody’s attention. All the Cossacks looked up at him. + ‘Just go to the upper water-course, there’s a fine herd of boars + there. I’m not inventing, really! The other day one of our Cossacks + shot one there. I’m telling you the truth,’ added he, + readjusting the musket at his back and in a tone that showed he was not + joking. + </p> + <p> + ‘Ah! Lukashka the Snatcher is here!’ said the old man, looking up. + ‘Where has he been shooting?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Haven’t you seen? I suppose you’re too young!’ said + Lukashka. ‘Close by the ditch,’ he went on seriously with a + shake of the head. ‘We were just going along the ditch when all at + once we heard something crackling, but my gun was in its case. Elias fired + suddenly ... But I’ll show you the place, it’s not far. You + just wait a bit. I know every one of their footpaths ... Daddy Mosev,’ + said he, turning resolutely and almost commandingly to the corporal, + ‘it’s time to relieve guard!’ and holding aloft his gun + he began to descend from the watch-tower without waiting for the order. + </p> + <p> + ‘Come down!’ said the corporal, after Lukashka had started, and + glanced round. ‘Is it your turn, Gurka? Then go ... True enough your + Lukashka has become very skilful,’ he went on, addressing the old + man. ‘He keeps going about just like you, he doesn’t stay at + home. The other day he killed a boar.’ + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0007" id="link2HCH0007"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Chapter VII + </h2> + <p class="pfirst"> + <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>he sun had already + set and the shades of night were rapidly spreading from the edge of the + wood. The Cossacks finished their task round the cordon and gathered in + the hut for supper. Only the old man still stayed under the plane tree + watching for the vulture and pulling the string tied to the falcon’s + leg, but though a vulture was really perching on the plane tree it + declined to swoop down on the lure. Lukashka, singing one song after + another, was leisurely placing nets among the very thickest brambles to + trap pheasants. In spite of his tall stature and big hands every kind of + work, both rough and delicate, prospered under Lukashka’s fingers. + </p> + <p> + ‘Hallo, Luke!’ came Nazarka’s shrill, sharp voice calling him + from the thicket close by. ‘The Cossacks have gone in to supper.’ + </p> + <p> + Nazarka, with a live pheasant under his arm, forced his way through the + brambles and emerged on the footpath. + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh!’ said Lukashka, breaking off in his song, ‘where did you + get that cock pheasant? I suppose it was in my trap?’ + </p> + <p> + Nazarka was of the same age as Lukashka and had also only been at the + front since the previous spring. + </p> + <p> + He was plain, thin and puny, with a shrill voice that rang in one’s + ears. They were neighbours and comrades. Lukashka was sitting on the grass + crosslegged like a Tartar, adjusting his nets. + </p> + <p> + ‘I don’t know whose it was—yours, I expect.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Was it beyond the pit by the plane tree? Then it is mine! I set the nets + last night.’ + </p> + <p> + Lukashka rose and examined the captured pheasant. After stroking the dark + burnished head of the bird, which rolled its eyes and stretched out its + neck in terror, Lukashka took the pheasant in his hands. + </p> + <p> + ‘We’ll have it in a pilau tonight. You go and kill and pluck it.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘And shall we eat it ourselves or give it to the corporal?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘He has plenty!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I don’t like killing them,’ said Nazarka. + </p> + <p> + ‘Give it here!’ + </p> + <p> + Lukashka drew a little knife from under his dagger and gave it a swift + jerk. The bird fluttered, but before it could spread its wings the + bleeding head bent and quivered. + </p> + <p> + ‘That’s how one should do it!’ said Lukashka, throwing down + the pheasant. ‘It will make a fat pilau.’ + </p> + <p> + Nazarka shuddered as he looked at the bird. + </p> + <p> + ‘I say, Lukashka, that fiend will be sending us to the ambush again + tonight,’ he said, taking up the bird. (He was alluding to the + corporal.) ‘He has sent Fomushkin to get wine, and it ought to be + his turn. He always puts it on us.’ + </p> + <p> + Lukashka went whistling along the cordon. + </p> + <p> + ‘Take the string with you,’ he shouted. + </p> + <p> + Nazirka obeyed. + </p> + <p> + ‘I’ll give him a bit of my mind today, I really will,’ + continued Nazarka. ‘Let’s say we won’t go; we’re + tired out and there’s an end of it! No, really, you tell him, he’ll + listen to you. It’s too bad!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Get along with you! What a thing to make a fuss about!’ said + Lukashka, evidently thinking of something else. ‘What bosh! If he + made us turn out of the village at night now, that would be annoying: + there one can have some fun, but here what is there? It’s all one + whether we’re in the cordon or in ambush. What a fellow you are!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘And are you going to the village?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I’ll go for the holidays.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Gurka says your Dunayka is carrying on with Fomushkin,’ said + Nazarka suddenly. + </p> + <p> + ‘Well, let her go to the devil,’ said Lukashka, showing his regular + white teeth, though he did not laugh. ‘As if I couldn’t find + another!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Gurka says he went to her house. Her husband was out and there was + Fomushkin sitting and eating pie. Gurka stopped awhile and then went away, + and passing by the window he heard her say, “He’s gone, the + fiend.... Why don’t you eat your pie, my own? You needn’t go + home for the night,” she says. And Gurka under the window says to + himself, “That’s fine!”’ + </p> + <p> + ‘You’re making it up.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘No, quite true, by Heaven!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Well, if she’s found another let her go to the devil,’ said + Lukashka, after a pause. ‘There’s no lack of girls and I was + sick of her anyway.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Well, see what a devil you are!’ said Nazarka. ‘You should + make up to the cornet’s girl, Maryanka. Why doesn’t she walk + out with any one?’ + </p> + <p> + Lukashka frowned. ‘What of Maryanka? They’re all alike,’ + said he. + </p> + <p> + ‘Well, you just try...’ + </p> + <p> + ‘What do you think? Are girls so scarce in the village?’ + </p> + <p> + And Lukashka recommenced whistling, and went along the cordon pulling + leaves and branches from the bushes as he went. Suddenly, catching sight + of a smooth sapling, he drew the knife from the handle of his dagger and + cut it down. ‘What a ramrod it will make,’ he said, swinging + the sapling till it whistled through the air. + </p> + <p> + The Cossacks were sitting round a low Tartar table on the earthen floor of + the clay-plastered outer room of the hut, when the question of whose turn + it was to lie in ambush was raised. ‘Who is to go tonight?’ + shouted one of the Cossacks through the open door to the corporal in the + next room. + </p> + <p> + ‘Who is to go?’ the corporal shouted back. ‘Uncle Burlak has + been and Fomushkin too,’ said he, not quite confidently. ‘You + two had better go, you and Nazarka,’ he went on, addressing + Lukashka. ‘And Ergushov must go too; surely he has slept it off?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘You don’t sleep it off yourself so why should he?’ said + Nazarka in a subdued voice. + </p> + <p> + The Cossacks laughed. + </p> + <p> + Ergushov was the Cossack who had been lying drunk and asleep near the hut. + He had only that moment staggered into the room rubbing his eyes. + </p> + <p> + Lukashka had already risen and was getting his gun ready. + </p> + <p> + ‘Be quick and go! Finish your supper and go!’ said the corporal; and + without waiting for an expression of consent he shut the door, evidently + not expecting the Cossack to obey. ‘Of course,’ thought he, + ‘if I hadn’t been ordered to I wouldn’t send anyone, but an + officer might turn up at any moment. As it is, they say eight abreks have + crossed over.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Well, I suppose I must go,’ remarked Ergushov, ‘it’s + the regulation. Can’t be helped! The times are such. I say, we must + go.’ + </p> + <p> + Meanwhile Lukashka, holding a big piece of pheasant to his mouth with both + hands and glancing now at Nazarka, now at Ergushov, seemed quite + indifferent to what passed and only laughed at them both. Before the + Cossacks were ready to go into ambush. Uncle Eroshka, who had been vainly + waiting under the plane tree till night fell, entered the dark outer room. + </p> + <p> + ‘Well, lads,’ his loud bass resounded through the low-roofed room + drowning all the other voices, ‘I’m going with you. You’ll + watch for Chechens and I for boars!’ + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0008" id="link2HCH0008"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Chapter VIII + </h2> + <p class="pfirst"> + <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">I</span>t was quite dark + when Uncle Eroshka and the three Cossacks, in their cloaks and shouldering + their guns, left the cordon and went towards the place on the Terek where + they were to lie in ambush. Nazarka did not want to go at all, but + Lukashka shouted at him and they soon started. After they had gone a few + steps in silence the Cossacks turned aside from the ditch and went along a + path almost hidden by reeds till they reached the river. On its bank lay a + thick black log cast up by the water. The reeds around it had been + recently beaten down. + </p> + <p> + ‘Shall we lie here?’ asked Nazarka. + </p> + <p> + ‘Why not?’ answered Lukashka. ‘Sit down here and I’ll be + back in a minute. I’ll only show Daddy where to go.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘This is the best place; here we can see and not be seen,’ said + Ergushov, ‘so it’s here we’ll lie. It’s a + first-rate place!’ + </p> + <p> + Nazarka and Ergushov spread out their cloaks and settled down behind the + log, while Lukashka went on with Uncle Eroshka. + </p> + <p> + ‘It’s not far from here. Daddy,’ said Lukashka, stepping + softly in front of the old man; ‘I’ll show you where they’ve + been—I’m the only one that knows. Daddy.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Show me! You’re a fine fellow, a regular Snatcher!’ replied + the old man, also whispering. + </p> + <p> + Having gone a few steps Lukashka stopped, stooped down over a puddle, and + whistled. ‘That’s where they come to drink, d’you see?’ + He spoke in a scarcely audible voice, pointing to fresh hoof-prints. + </p> + <p> + ‘Christ bless you,’ answered the old man. ‘The boar will be in + the hollow beyond the ditch,’ he added. Til watch, and you can go.’ + </p> + <p> + Lukashka pulled his cloak up higher and walked back alone, throwing swift + glances now to the left at the wall of reeds, now to the Terek rushing by + below the bank. ‘I daresay he’s watching or creeping along + somewhere,’ thought he of a possible Chechen hillsman. Suddenly a + loud rustling and a splash in the water made him start and seize his + musket. From under the bank a boar leapt up—his dark outline showing + for a moment against the glassy surface of the water and then disappearing + among the reeds. Lukashka pulled out his gun and aimed, but before he + could fire the boar had disappeared in the thicket. Lukashka spat with + vexation and went on. On approaching the ambuscade he halted again and + whistled softly. His whistle was answered and he stepped up to his + comrades. + </p> + <p> + Nazarka, all curled up, was already asleep. Ergushov sat with his legs + crossed and moved slightly to make room for Lukashka. + </p> + <p> + ‘How jolly it is to sit here! It’s really a good place,’ said + he. ‘Did you take him there?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Showed him where,’ answered Lukashka, spreading out his cloak. + ‘But what a big boar I roused just now close to the water! I expect + it was the very one! You must have heard the crash?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I did hear a beast crashing through. I knew at once it was a beast. I + thought to myself: “Lukashka has roused a beast,”’ + Ergushov said, wrapping himself up in his cloak. ‘Now I’ll go + to sleep,’ he added. ‘Wake me when the cocks crow. We must have + discipline. I’ll lie down and have a nap, and then you will have a + nap and I’ll watch—that’s the way.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Luckily I don’t want to sleep,’ answered Lukashka. + </p> + <p> + The night was dark, warm, and still. Only on one side of the sky the stars + were shining, the other and greater part was overcast by one huge cloud + stretching from the mountaintops. The black cloud, blending in the absence + of any wind with the mountains, moved slowly onwards, its curved edges + sharply denned against the deep starry sky. Only in front of him could the + Cossack discern the Terek and the distance beyond. Behind and on both + sides he was surrounded by a wall of reeds. Occasionally the reeds would + sway and rustle against one another apparently without cause. Seen from + down below, against the clear part of the sky, their waving tufts looked + like the feathery branches of trees. Close in front at his very feet was + the bank, and at its base the rushing torrent. A little farther on was the + moving mass of glassy brown water which eddied rhythmically along the bank + and round the shallows. Farther still, water, banks, and cloud all merged + together in impenetrable gloom. Along the surface of the water floated + black shadows, in which the experienced eyes of the Cossack detected trees + carried down by the current. Only very rarely sheet-lightning, mirrored in + the water as in a black glass, disclosed the sloping bank opposite. The + rhythmic sounds of night—the rustling of the reeds, the snoring of + the Cossacks, the hum of mosquitoes, and the rushing water, were every now + and then broken by a shot fired in the distance, or by the gurgling of + water when a piece of bank slipped down, the splash of a big fish, or the + crashing of an animal breaking through the thick undergrowth in the wood. + Once an owl flew past along the Terek, flapping one wing against the other + rhythmically at every second beat. Just above the Cossack’s head it + turned towards the wood and then, striking its wings no longer after every + other flap but at every flap, it flew to an old plane tree where it + rustled about for a long time before settling down among the branches. At + every one of these unexpected sounds the watching Cossack listened + intently, straining his hearing, and screwing up his eyes while he + deliberately felt for his musket. + </p> + <p> + The greater part of the night was past. The black cloud that had moved + westward revealed the clear starry sky from under its torn edge, and the + golden upturned crescent of the moon shone above the mountains with a + reddish light. The cold began to be penetrating. Nazarka awoke, spoke a + little, and fell asleep again. Lukashka feeling bored got up, drew the + knife from his dagger-handle and began to fashion his stick into a ramrod. + His head was full of the Chechens who lived over there in the mountains, + and of how their brave lads came across and were not afraid of the + Cossacks, and might even now be crossing the river at some other spot. He + thrust himself out of his hiding-place and looked along the river but + could see nothing. And as he continued looking out at intervals upon the + river and at the opposite bank, now dimly distinguishable from the water + in the faint moonlight, he no longer thought about the Chechens but only + of when it would be time to wake his comrades, and of going home to the + village. In the village he imagined Dunayka, his ‘little soul’, + as the Cossacks call a man’s mistress, and thought of her with + vexation. Silvery mists, a sign of coming morning, glittered white above + the water, and not far from him young eagles were whistling and flapping + their wings. At last the crowing of a cock reached him from the distant + village, followed by the long-sustained note of another, which was again + answered by yet other voices. + </p> + <p> + ‘Time to wake them,’ thought Lukashka, who had finished his ramrod + and felt his eyes growing heavy. Turning to his comrades he managed to + make out which pair of legs belonged to whom, when it suddenly seemed to + him that he heard something splash on the other side of the Terek. He + turned again towards the horizon beyond the hills, where day was breaking + under the upturned crescent, glanced at the outline of the opposite bank, + at the Terek, and at the now distinctly visible driftwood upon it. For one + instant it seemed to him that he was moving and that the Terek with the + drifting wood remained stationary. Again he peered out. One large black + log with a branch particularly attracted his attention. The tree was + floating in a strange way right down the middle of the stream, neither + rocking nor whirling. It even appeared not to be floating altogether with + the current, but to be crossing it in the direction of the shallows. + Lukashka stretching out his neck watched it intently. The tree floated to + the shallows, stopped, and shifted in a peculiar manner. Lukashka thought + he saw an arm stretched out from beneath the tree. ‘Supposing I + killed an abrek all by myself!’ he thought, and seized his gun with + a swift, unhurried movement, putting up his gun-rest, placing the gun upon + it, and holding it noiselessly in position. Cocking the trigger, with + bated breath he took aim, still peering out intently. ‘I won’t + wake them,’ he thought. But his heart began beating so fast that he + remained motionless, listening. Suddenly the trunk gave a plunge and again + began to float across the stream towards our bank. ‘Only not to miss + ...’ thought he, and now by the faint light of the moon he caught a + glimpse of a Tartar’s head in front of the floating wood. He aimed + straight at the head which appeared to be quite near—just at the end + of his rifle’s barrel. He glanced cross. ‘Right enough it is + an abrek! he thought joyfully, and suddenly rising to his knees he again + took aim. Having found the sight, barely visible at the end of the long + gun, he said: ‘In the name of the Father and of the Son,’ in + the Cossack way learnt in his childhood, and pulled the trigger. A flash + of lightning lit up for an instant the reeds and the water, and the sharp, + abrupt report of the shot was carried across the river, changing into a + prolonged roll somewhere in the far distance. The piece of driftwood now + floated not across, but with the current, rocking and whirling. + </p> + <p> + ‘Stop, I say!’ exclaimed Ergushov, seizing his musket and raising + himself behind the log near which he was lying. + </p> + <p> + ‘Shut up, you devil!’ whispered Lukashka, grinding his teeth. + ‘Abreks!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Whom have you shot?’ asked Nazarka. ‘Who was it, Lukashka?’ + </p> + <p> + Lukashka did not answer. He was reloading his gun and watching the + floating wood. A little way off it stopped on a sand-bank, and from behind + it something large that rocked in the water came into view. + </p> + <p> + ‘What did you shoot? Why don’t you speak?’ insisted the + Cossacks. + </p> + <p> + ‘Abreks, I tell you!’ said Lukashka. + </p> + <p> + ‘Don’t humbug! Did the gun go off? ...’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I’ve killed an abrek, that’s what I fired at,’ muttered + Lukashka in a voice choked by emotion, as he jumped to his feet. ‘A + man was swimming...’ he said, pointing to the sandbank. ‘I + killed him. Just look there.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Have done with your humbugging!’ said Ergushov again, rubbing his + eyes. + </p> + <p> + ‘Have done with what? Look there,’ said Lukashka, seizing him by the + shoulders and pulling him with such force that Ergushov groaned. + </p> + <p> + He looked in the direction in which Lukashka pointed, and discerning a + body immediately changed his tone. + </p> + <p> + ‘O Lord! But I say, more will come! I tell you the truth,’ said he + softly, and began examining his musket. ‘That was a scout swimming + across: either the others are here already or are not far off on the other + side—I tell you for sure!’ Lukashka was unfastening his belt + and taking off his Circassian coat. + </p> + <p> + ‘What are you up to, you idiot?’ exclaimed Ergushov. ‘Only + show yourself and you’ve lost all for nothing, I tell you true! If + you’ve killed him he won’t escape. Let me have a little powder + for my musket-pan—you have some? Nazarka, you go back to the cordon + and look alive; but don’t go along the bank or you’ll be + killed—I tell you true.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Catch me going alone! Go yourself!’ said Nazarka angrily. + </p> + <p> + Having taken off his coat, Lukashka went down to the bank. + </p> + <p> + ‘Don’t go in, I tell you!’ said Ergushov, putting some powder + on the pan. ‘Look, he’s not moving. I can see. It’s + nearly morning; wait till they come from the cordon. You go, Nazarka. You’re + afraid! Don’t be afraid, I tell you.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Luke, I say, Lukashka! Tell us how you did it!’ said Nazarka. + </p> + <p> + Lukashka changed his mind about going into the water just then. ‘Go + quick to the cordon and I will watch. Tell the Cossacks to send out the + patrol. If the ABREKS are on this side they must be caught,’ said + he. + </p> + <p> + ‘That’s what I say. They’ll get off,’ said Ergushov, + rising. ‘True, they must be caught!’ + </p> + <p> + Ergushov and Nazarka rose and, crossing themselves, started off for the + cordon—not along the riverbank but breaking their way through the + brambles to reach a path in the wood. + </p> + <p> + ‘Now mind, Lukashka—they may cut you down here, so you’d best + keep a sharp look-out, I tell you!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Go along; I know,’ muttered Lukashka; and having examined his gun + again he sat down behind the log. + </p> + <p> + He remained alone and sat gazing at the shallows and listening for the + Cossacks; but it was some distance to the cordon and he was tormented by + impatience. He kept thinking that the other ABREKS who were with the one + he had killed would escape. He was vexed with the ABREKS who were going to + escape just as he had been with the boar that had escaped the evening + before. He glanced round and at the opposite bank, expecting every moment + to see a man, and having arranged his gun-rest he was ready to fire. The + idea that he might himself be killed never entered his head. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0009" id="link2HCH0009"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Chapter IX + </h2> + <p class="pfirst"> + <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">I</span>t was growing + light. The Chechen’s body which was gently rocking in the shallow + water was now clearly visible. Suddenly the reeds rustled not far from + Luke and he heard steps and saw the feathery tops of the reeds moving. He + set his gun at full cock and muttered: ‘In the name of the Father + and of the Son,’ but when the cock clicked the sound of steps + ceased. + </p> + <p> + ‘Hallo, Cossacks! Don’t kill your Daddy!’ said a deep bass + voice calmly; and moving the reeds apart Daddy Eroshka came up close to + Luke. + </p> + <p> + ‘I very nearly killed you, by God I did!’ said Lukashka. + </p> + <p> + ‘What have you shot?’ asked the old man. + </p> + <p> + His sonorous voice resounded through the wood and downward along the + river, suddenly dispelling the mysterious quiet of night around the + Cossack. It was as if everything had suddenly become lighter and more + distinct. + </p> + <p> + ‘There now. Uncle, you have not seen anything, but I’ve killed a + beast,’ said Lukashka, uncocking his gun and getting up with + unnatural calmness. + </p> + <p> + The old man was staring intently at the white back, now clearly visible, + against which the Terek rippled. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +‘He was swimming with a log on his back. I spied him out! ... Look +there. There! He’s got blue trousers, and a gun I think.... Do you +see?’ inquired Luke. + + ‘How can one help seeing?’ said the old man angrily, and a +serious and stern expression appeared on his face. ‘You’ve killed a +brave,’ he said, apparently with regret. +</pre> + <p> + ‘Well, I sat here and suddenly saw something dark on the other side. I + spied him when he was still over there. It was as if a man had come there + and fallen in. Strange! And a piece of driftwood, a good-sized piece, + comes floating, not with the stream but across it; and what do I see but a + head appearing from under it! Strange! I stretched out of the reeds but + could see nothing; then I rose and he must have heard, the beast, and + crept out into the shallow and looked about. “No, you don’t!” + I said, as soon as he landed and looked round, “you won’t get + away!” Oh, there was something choking me! I got my gun ready but + did not stir, and looked out. He waited a little and then swam out again; + and when he came into the moonlight I could see his whole back. “In + the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Ghost”... and + through the smoke I see him struggling. He moaned, or so it seemed to me. + “Ah,” I thought, “the Lord be thanked, I’ve killed + him!” And when he drifted onto the sand-bank I could see him + distinctly: he tried to get up but couldn’t. He struggled a bit and + then lay down. Everything could be seen. Look, he does not move—he + must be dead! The Cossacks have gone back to the cordon in case there + should be any more of them.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘And so you got him!’ said the old man. ‘He is far away now, + my lad! ...’ And again he shook his head sadly. + </p> + <p> + Just then the sound reached them of breaking bushes and the loud voices of + Cossacks approaching along the bank on horseback and on foot. ‘Are + you bringing the skiff?’ shouted Lukashka. + </p> + <p> + ‘You’re a trump, Luke! Lug it to the bank!’ shouted one of the + Cossacks. + </p> + <p> + Without waiting for the skiff Lukashka began to undress, keeping an eye + all the while on his prey. + </p> + <p> + ‘Wait a bit, Nazarka is bringing the skiff,’ shouted the corporal. + </p> + <p> + ‘You fool! Maybe he is alive and only pretending! Take your dagger with + you!’ shouted another Cossack. + </p> + <p> + ‘Get along,’ cried Luke, pulling off his trousers. He quickly + undressed and, crossing himself, jumped, plunging with a splash into the + river. Then with long strokes of his white arms, lifting his back high out + of the water and breathing deeply, he swam across the current of the Terek + towards the shallows. A crowd of Cossacks stood on the bank talking + loudly. Three horsemen rode off to patrol. The skiff appeared round a + bend. Lukashka stood up on the sandbank, leaned over the body, and gave it + a couple of shakes. + </p> + <p> + ‘Quite dead!’ he shouted in a shrill voice. + </p> + <p> + The Chechen had been shot in the head. He had on a pair of blue trousers, + a shirt, and a Circassian coat, and a gun and dagger were tied to his + back. Above all these a large branch was tied, and it was this which at + first had misled Lukashka. + </p> + <p> + ‘What a carp you’ve landed!’ cried one of the Cossacks who had + assembled in a circle, as the body, lifted out of the skiff, was laid on + the bank, pressing down the grass. + </p> + <p> + ‘How yellow he is!’ said another. + </p> + <p> + ‘Where have our fellows gone to search? I expect the rest of them are on + the other bank. If this one had not been a scout he would not have swum + that way. Why else should he swim alone?’ said a third. + </p> + <p> + ‘Must have been a smart one to offer himself before the others; a regular + brave!’ said Lukashka mockingly, shivering as he wrung out his + clothes that had got wet on the bank. + </p> + <p> + ‘His beard is dyed and cropped.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘And he has tied a bag with a coat in it to his back.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘That would make it easier for him to swim,’ said some one. + </p> + <p> + ‘I say, Lukashka,’ said the corporal, who was holding the dagger and + gun taken from the dead man. ‘Keep the dagger for yourself and the + coat too; but I’ll give you three rubles for the gun. You see it has + a hole in it,’ said he, blowing into the muzzle. ‘I want it + just for a souvenir.’ + </p> + <p> + Lukashka did not answer. Evidently this sort of begging vexed him but he + knew it could not be avoided. + </p> + <p> + ‘See, what a devil!’ said he, frowning and throwing down the Chechen’s + coat. ‘If at least it were a good coat, but it’s a mere rag.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘It’ll do to fetch firewood in,’ said one of the Cossacks. + </p> + <p> + ‘Mosev, I’ll go home,’ said Lukashka, evidently forgetting his + vexation and wishing to get some advantage out of having to give a present + to his superior. + </p> + <p> + ‘All right, you may go!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Take the body beyond the cordon, lads,’ said the corporal, still + examining the gun, ‘and put a shelter over him from the sun. Perhaps + they’ll send from the mountains to ransom it.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘It isn’t hot yet,’ said someone. + </p> + <p> + ‘And supposing a jackal tears him? Would that be well?’ remarked + another Cossack. + </p> + <p> + ‘We’ll set a watch; if they should come to ransom him it won’t + do for him to have been torn.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Well, Lukashka, whatever you do you must stand a pail of vodka for the + lads,’ said the corporal gaily. + </p> + <p> + ‘Of course! That’s the custom,’ chimed in the Cossacks. + ‘See what luck God has sent you! Without ever having seen anything + of the kind before, you’ve killed a brave!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Buy the dagger and coat and don’t be stingy, and I’ll let you + have the trousers too,’ said Lukashka. ‘They’re too + tight for me; he was a thin devil.’ + </p> + <p> + One Cossack bought the coat for a ruble and another gave the price of two + pails of vodka for the dagger. + </p> + <p> + ‘Drink, lads! I’ll stand you a pail!’ said Luke. ‘I’ll + bring it myself from the village.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘And cut up the trousers into kerchiefs for the girls!’ said + Nazarka. + </p> + <p> + The Cossacks burst out laughing. + </p> + <p> + ‘Have done laughing!’ said the corporal. ‘And take the body + away. Why have you put the nasty thing by the hut?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘What are you standing there for? Haul him along, lads!’ shouted + Lukashka in a commanding voice to the Cossacks, who reluctantly took hold + of the body, obeying him as though he were their chief. After dragging the + body along for a few steps the Cossacks let fall the legs, which dropped + with a lifeless jerk, and stepping apart they then stood silent for a few + moments. Nazarka came up and straightened the head, which was turned to + one side so that the round wound above the temple and the whole of the + dead man’s face were visible. ‘See what a mark he has made + right in the brain,’ he said. ‘He won’t get lost. His + owners will always know him!’ No one answered, and again the Angel + of Silence flew over the Cossacks. + </p> + <p> + The sun had risen high and its diverging beams were lighting up the dewy + grass. Near by, the Terek murmured in the awakened wood and, greeting the + morning, the pheasants called to one another. The Cossacks stood still and + silent around the dead man, gazing at him. The brown body, with nothing on + but the wet blue trousers held by a girdle over the sunken stomach, was + well shaped and handsome. The muscular arms lay stretched straight out by + his sides; the blue, freshly shaven, round head with the clotted wound on + one side of it was thrown back. The smooth tanned forehead contrasted + sharply with the shaven part of the head. The open glassy eyes with + lowered pupils stared upwards, seeming to gaze past everything. Under the + red trimmed moustache the fine lips, drawn at the corners, seemed + stiffened into a smile of good-natured subtle raillery. The fingers of the + small hands covered with red hairs were bent inward, and the nails were + dyed red. + </p> + <p> + Lukashka had not yet dressed. He was wet. His neck was redder and his eyes + brighter than usual, his broad jaws twitched, and from his healthy body a + hardly perceptible steam rose in the fresh morning air. + </p> + <p> + ‘He too was a man!’ he muttered, evidently admiring the corpse. + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes, if you had fallen into his hands you would have had short shrift,’ + said one of the Cossacks. + </p> + <p> + The Angel of Silence had taken wing. The Cossacks began bustling about and + talking. Two of them went to cut brushwood for a shelter, others strolled + towards the cordon. Luke and Nazarka ran to get ready to go to the + village. + </p> + <p> + Half an hour later they were both on their way homewards, talking + incessantly and almost running through the dense woods which separated the + Terek from the village. + </p> + <p> + ‘Mind, don’t tell her I sent you, but just go and find out if her + husband is at home,’ Luke was saying in his shrill voice. + </p> + <p> + ‘And I’ll go round to Yamka too,’ said the devoted Nazarka. + ‘We’ll have a spree, shall we?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘When should we have one if not to-day?’ replied Luke. + </p> + <p> + When they reached the village the two Cossacks drank, and lay down to + sleep till evening. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0010" id="link2HCH0010"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Chapter X + </h2> + <p class="pfirst"> + <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">O</span>n the third day + after the events above described, two companies of a Caucasian infantry + regiment arrived at the Cossack village of Novomlinsk. The horses had been + unharnessed and the companies’ wagons were standing in the square. + The cooks had dug a pit, and with logs gathered from various yards (where + they had not been sufficiently securely stored) were now cooking the food; + the pay-sergeants were settling accounts with the soldiers. The Service + Corps men were driving piles in the ground to which to tie the horses, and + the quartermasters were going about the streets just as if they were at + home, showing officers and men to their quarters. Here were green + ammunition boxes in a line, the company’s carts, horses, and + cauldrons in which buckwheat porridge was being cooked. Here were the + captain and the lieutenant and the sergeant-major, Onisim Mikhaylovich, + and all this was in the Cossack village where it was reported that the + companies were ordered to take up their quarters: therefore they were at + home here. But why they were stationed there, who the Cossacks were, and + whether they wanted the troops to be there, and whether they were Old + Believers or not—was all quite immaterial. Having received their pay + and been dismissed, tired out and covered with dust, the soldiers noisily + and in disorder, like a swarm of bees about to settle, spread over the + squares and streets; quite regardless of the Cossacks’ ill will, + chattering merrily and with their muskets clinking, by twos and threes + they entered the huts and hung up their accoutrements, unpacked their + bags, and bantered the women. At their favourite spot, round the + porridge-cauldrons, a large group of soldiers assembled and with little + pipes between their teeth they gazed, now at the smoke which rose into the + hot sky, becoming visible when it thickened into white clouds as it rose, + and now at the camp fires which were quivering in the pure air like molten + glass, and bantered and made fun of the Cossack men and women because they + do not live at all like Russians. In all the yards one could see soldiers + and hear their laughter and the exasperated and shrill cries of Cossack + women defending their houses and refusing to give the soldiers water or + cooking utensils. Little boys and girls, clinging to their mothers and to + each other, followed all the movements of the troopers (never before seen + by them) with frightened curiosity, or ran after them at a respectful + distance. The old Cossacks came out silently and dismally and sat on the + earthen embankments of their huts, and watched the soldiers’ + activity with an air of leaving it all to the will of God without + understanding what would come of it. + </p> + <p> + Olenin, who had joined the Caucasian Army as a cadet three months before, + was quartered in one of the best houses in the village, the house of the + cornet, Elias Vasilich—that is to say at Granny Ulitka’s. + </p> + <p> + ‘Goodness knows what it will be like, Dmitri Andreich,’ said the + panting Vanyusha to Olenin, who, dressed in a Circassian coat and mounted + on a Kabarda horse which he had bought in Groznoe, was after a five-hours’ + march gaily entering the yard of the quarters assigned to him. + </p> + <p> + ‘Why, what’s the matter?’ he asked, caressing his horse and + looking merrily at the perspiring, dishevelled, and worried Vanyusha, who + had arrived with the baggage wagons and was unpacking. + </p> + <p> + Olenin looked quite a different man. In place of his clean-shaven lips and + chin he had a youthful moustache and a small beard. Instead of a sallow + complexion, the result of nights turned into day, his cheeks, his + forehead, and the skin behind his ears were now red with healthy sunburn. + In place of a clean new black suit he wore a dirty white Circassian coat + with a deeply pleated skirt, and he bore arms. Instead of a freshly + starched collar, his neck was tightly clasped by the red band of his silk + BESHMET. He wore Circassian dress but did not wear it well, and anyone + would have known him for a Russian and not a Tartar brave. It was the + thing—but not the real thing. But for all that, his whole person + breathed health, joy, and satisfaction. + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes, it seems funny to you,’ said Vanyusha, ‘but just try to + talk to these people yourself: they set themselves against one and there’s + an end of it. You can’t get as much as a word out of them.’ + Vanyusha angrily threw down a pail on the threshold. ‘Somehow they + don’t seem like Russians.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘You should speak to the Chief of the Village!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘But I don’t know where he lives,’ said Vanyusha in an + offended tone. + </p> + <p> + ‘Who has upset you so?’ asked Olenin, looking round. + </p> + <p> + ‘The devil only knows. Faugh! There is no real master here. They say he + has gone to some kind of KRIGA, and the old woman is a real devil. God + preserve us!’ answered Vanyusha, putting his hands to his head. + ‘How we shall live here I don’t know. They are worse than + Tartars, I do declare—though they consider themselves Christians! A + Tartar is bad enough, but all the same he is more noble. Gone to the KRIGA + indeed! What this KRIGA they have invented is, I don’t know!’ + concluded Vanyusha, and turned aside. + </p> + <p> + ‘It’s not as it is in the serfs’ quarters at home, eh?’ + chaffed Olenin without dismounting. + </p> + <p> + ‘Please sir, may I have your horse?’ said Vanyusha, evidently + perplexed by this new order of things but resigning himself to his fate. + </p> + <p> + ‘So a Tartar is more noble, eh, Vanyusha?’ repeated Olenin, + dismounting and slapping the saddle. + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes, you’re laughing! You think it funny,’ muttered Vanyusha + angrily. + </p> + <p> + ‘Come, don’t be angry, Vanyusha,’ replied Olenin, still + smiling. ‘Wait a minute, I’ll go and speak to the people of + the house; you’ll see I shall arrange everything. You don’t + know what a jolly life we shall have here. Only don’t get upset.’ + </p> + <p> + Vanyusha did not answer. Screwing up his eyes he looked contemptuously + after his master, and shook his head. Vanyusha regarded Olenin as only his + master, and Olenin regarded Vanyusha as only his servant; and they would + both have been much surprised if anyone had told them that they were + friends, as they really were without knowing it themselves. Vanyusha had + been taken into his proprietor’s house when he was only eleven and + when Olenin was the same age. When Olenin was fifteen he gave Vanyusha + lessons for a time and taught him to read French, of which the latter was + inordinately proud; and when in specially good spirits he still let off + French words, always laughing stupidly when he did so. + </p> + <p> + Olenin ran up the steps of the porch and pushed open the door of the hut. + Maryanka, wearing nothing but a pink smock, as all Cossack women do in the + house, jumped away from the door, frightened, and pressing herself against + the wall covered the lower part of her face with the broad sleeve of her + Tartar smock. Having opened the door wider, Olenin in the semi-darkness of + the passage saw the whole tall, shapely figure of the young Cossack girl. + With the quick and eager curiosity of youth he involuntarily noticed the + firm maidenly form revealed by the fine print smock, and the beautiful + black eyes fixed on him with childlike terror and wild curiosity. ‘This + is SHE,’ thought Olenin. ‘But there will be many others like + her’ came at once into his head, and he opened the inner door. Old + Granny Ulitka, also dressed only in a smock, was stooping with her back + turned to him, sweeping the floor. + </p> + <p> + ‘Good-day to you. Mother! I’ve come about my lodgings,’ he + began. + </p> + <p> + The Cossack woman, without unbending, turned her severe but still handsome + face towards him. + </p> + <p> + ‘What have you come here for? Want to mock at us, eh? I’ll teach you + to mock; may the black plague seize you!’ she shouted, looking + askance from under her frowning brow at the new-comer. + </p> + <p> + Olenin had at first imagined that the way-worn, gallant Caucasian Army (of + which he was a member) would be everywhere received joyfully, and + especially by the Cossacks, our comrades in the war; and he therefore felt + perplexed by this reception. Without losing presence of mind however he + tried to explain that he meant to pay for his lodgings, but the old woman + would not give him a hearing. + </p> + <p> + ‘What have you come for? Who wants a pest like you, with your scraped + face? You just wait a bit; when the master returns he’ll show you + your place. I don’t want your dirty money! A likely thing—just + as if we had never seen any! You’ll stink the house out with your + beastly tobacco and want to put it right with money! Think we’ve + never seen a pest! May you be shot in your bowels and your heart!’ + shrieked the old woman in a piercing voice, interrupting Olenin. + </p> + <p> + ‘It seems Vanyusha was right!’ thought Olenin. “A Tartar would + be nobler”,’ and followed by Granny Ulitka’s abuse he + went out of the hut. As he was leaving, Maryanka, still wearing only her + pink smock, but with her forehead covered down to her eyes by a white + kerchief, suddenly slipped out from the passage past him. Pattering + rapidly down the steps with her bare feet she ran from the porch, stopped, + and looking round hastily with laughing eyes at the young man, vanished + round the corner of the hut. + </p> + <p> + Her firm youthful step, the untamed look of the eyes glistening from under + the white kerchief, and the firm stately build of the young beauty, struck + Olenin even more powerfully than before. ‘Yes, it must be SHE,’ + he thought, and troubling his head still less about the lodgings, he kept + looking round at Maryanka as he approached Vanyusha. + </p> + <p> + ‘There you see, the girl too is quite savage, just like a wild filly!’ + said Vanyusha, who though still busy with the luggage wagon had now + cheered up a bit. ‘LA FAME!’ he added in a loud triumphant + voice and burst out laughing. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0011" id="link2HCH0011"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Chapter XI + </h2> + <p class="pfirst"> + <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>owards evening the + master of the house returned from his fishing, and having learnt that the + cadet would pay for the lodging, pacified the old woman and satisfied + Vanyusha’s demands. + </p> + <p> + Everything was arranged in the new quarters. Their hosts moved into the + winter hut and let their summer hut to the cadet for three rubles a month. + Olenin had something to eat and went to sleep. Towards evening he woke up, + washed and made himself tidy, dined, and having lit a cigarette sat down + by the window that looked onto the street. It was cooler. The slanting + shadow of the hut with its ornamental gables fell across the dusty road + and even bent upwards at the base of the wall of the house opposite. The + steep reed-thatched roof of that house shone in the rays of the setting + sun. The air grew fresher. Everything was peaceful in the village. The + soldiers had settled down and become quiet. The herds had not yet been + driven home and the people had not returned from their work. + </p> + <p> + Olenin’s lodging was situated almost at the end of the village. At + rare intervals, from somewhere far beyond the Terek in those parts whence + Olenin had just come (the Chechen or the Kumytsk plain), came muffled + sounds of firing. Olenin was feeling very well contented after three + months of bivouac life. His newly washed face was fresh and his powerful + body clean (an unaccustomed sensation after the campaign) and in all his + rested limbs he was conscious of a feeling of tranquillity and strength. + His mind, too, felt fresh and clear. He thought of the campaign and of + past dangers. He remembered that he had faced them no worse than other + men, and that he was accepted as a comrade among valiant Caucasians. His + Moscow recollections were left behind Heaven knows how far! The old life + was wiped out and a quite new life had begun in which there were as yet no + mistakes. Here as a new man among new men he could gain a new and good + reputation. He was conscious of a youthful and unreasoning joy of life. + Looking now out of the window at the boys spinning their tops in the + shadow of the house, now round his neat new lodging, he thought how + pleasantly he would settle down to this new Cossack village life. Now and + then he glanced at the mountains and the blue sky, and an appreciation of + the solemn grandeur of nature mingled with his reminiscences and dreams. + His new life had begun, not as he imagined it would when he left Moscow, + but unexpectedly well. ‘The mountains, the mountains, the mountains!’ + they permeated all his thoughts and feelings. + </p> + <p> + ‘He’s kissed his dog and licked the jug! ... Daddy Eroshka has + kissed his dog!’ suddenly the little Cossacks who had been spinning + their tops under the window shouted, looking towards the side street. + ‘He’s drunk his bitch, and his dagger!’ shouted the + boys, crowding together and stepping backwards. + </p> + <p> + These shouts were addressed to Daddy Eroshka, who with his gun on his + shoulder and some pheasants hanging at his girdle was returning from his + shooting expedition. + </p> + <p> + ‘I have done wrong, lads, I have!’ he said, vigorously swinging his + arms and looking up at the windows on both sides of the street. ‘I + have drunk the bitch; it was wrong,’ he repeated, evidently vexed + but pretending not to care. + </p> + <p> + Olenin was surprised by the boys’ behavior towards the old hunter, + but was still more struck by the expressive, intelligent face and the + powerful build of the man whom they called Daddy Eroshka. + </p> + <p> + ‘Here Daddy, here Cossack!’ he called. ‘Come here!’ + </p> + <p> + The old man looked into the window and stopped. + </p> + <p> + ‘Good evening, good man,’ he said, lifting his little cap off his + cropped head. + </p> + <p> + ‘Good evening, good man,’ replied Olenin. ‘What is it the + youngsters are shouting at you?’ + </p> + <p> + Daddy Eroshka came up to the window. ‘Why, they’re teasing the + old man. No matter, I like it. Let them joke about their old daddy,’ + he said with those firm musical intonations with which old and venerable + people speak. ‘Are you an army commander?’ he added. + </p> + <p> + ‘No, I am a cadet. But where did you kill those pheasants?’ asked + Olenin. + </p> + <p> + ‘I dispatched these three hens in the forest,’ answered the old man, + turning his broad back towards the window to show the hen pheasants which + were hanging with their heads tucked into his belt and staining his coat + with blood. ‘Haven’t you seen any?’ he asked. ‘Take + a brace if you like! Here you are,’ and he handed two of the + pheasants in at the window. ‘Are you a sportsman yourself?’ he + asked. + </p> + <p> + ‘I am. During the campaign I killed four myself.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Four? What a lot!’ said the old man sarcastically. ‘And are + you a drinker? Do you drink CHIKHIR?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Why not? I like a drink.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Ah, I see you are a trump! We shall be KUNAKS, you and I,’ said + Daddy Eroshka. + </p> + <p> + ‘Step in,’ said Olenin. ‘We’ll have a drop of CHIKHIR.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I might as well,’ said the old man, ‘but take the pheasants.’ + The old man’s face showed that he liked the cadet. He had seen at + once that he could get free drinks from him, and that therefore it would + be all right to give him a brace of pheasants. + </p> + <p> + Soon Daddy Eroshka’s figure appeared in the doorway of the hut, and + it was only then that Olenin became fully conscious of the enormous size + and sturdy build of this man, whose red-brown face with its perfectly + white broad beard was all furrowed by deep lines produced by age and toil. + For an old man, the muscles of his legs, arms, and shoulders were quite + exceptionally large and prominent. There were deep scars on his head under + the short-cropped hair. His thick sinewy neck was covered with deep + intersecting folds like a bull’s. His horny hands were bruised and + scratched. He stepped lightly and easily over the threshold, unslung his + gun and placed it in a corner, and casting a rapid glance round the room + noted the value of the goods and chattels deposited in the hut, and with + out-turned toes stepped softly, in his sandals of raw hide, into the + middle of the room. He brought with him a penetrating but not unpleasant + smell of CHIKHIR wine, vodka, gunpowder, and congealed blood. + </p> + <p> + Daddy Eroshka bowed down before the icons, smoothed his beard, and + approaching Olenin held out his thick brown hand. ‘Koshkildy,’ + said he; That is Tartar for “Good-day”—“Peace be + unto you,” it means in their tongue.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Koshkildy, I know,’ answered Olenin, shaking hands. + </p> + <p> + ‘Eh, but you don’t, you won’t know the right order! Fool!’ + said Daddy Eroshka, shaking his head reproachfully. ‘If anyone says + “Koshkildy” to you, you must say “Allah rasi bo sun,” + that is, “God save you.” That’s the way, my dear fellow, + and not “Koshkildy.” But I’ll teach you all about it. We + had a fellow here, Elias Mosevich, one of your Russians, he and I were + kunaks. He was a trump, a drunkard, a thief, a sportsman—and what a + sportsman! I taught him everything.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘And what will you teach me?’ asked Olenin, who was becoming more + and more interested in the old man. + </p> + <p> + ‘I’ll take you hunting and teach you to fish. I’ll show you + Chechens and find a girl for you, if you like—even that! That’s + the sort I am! I’m a wag!’—and the old man laughed. + ‘I’ll sit down. I’m tired. Karga?’ he added + inquiringly. + </p> + <p> + ‘And what does “Karga” mean?’ asked Olenin. + </p> + <p> + ‘Why, that means “All right” in Georgian. But I say it just + so. It is a way I have, it’s my favourite word. Karga, Karga. I say + it just so; in fun I mean. Well, lad, won’t you order the chikhir? + You’ve got an orderly, haven’t you? Hey, Ivan!’ shouted + the old man. ‘All your soldiers are Ivans. Is yours Ivan?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘True enough, his name is Ivan—Vanyusha. Here Vanyusha! Please get + some chikhir from our landlady and bring it here.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Ivan or Vanyusha, that’s all one. Why are all your soldiers Ivans? + Ivan, old fellow,’ said the old man, ‘you tell them to give + you some from the barrel they have begun. They have the best chikhir in + the village. But don’t give more than thirty kopeks for the quart, + mind, because that witch would be only too glad.... Our people are + anathema people; stupid people,’ Daddy Eroshka continued in a + confidential tone after Vanyusha had gone out. ‘They do not look + upon you as on men, you are worse than a Tartar in their eyes. “Worldly + Russians” they say. But as for me, though you are a soldier you are + still a man, and have a soul in you. Isn’t that right? Elias + Mosevich was a soldier, yet what a treasure of a man he was! Isn’t + that so, my dear fellow? That’s why our people don’t like me; + but I don’t care! I’m a merry fellow, and I like everybody. I’m + Eroshka; yes, my dear fellow.’ + </p> + <p> + And the old Cossack patted the young man affectionately on the shoulder. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0012" id="link2HCH0012"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Chapter XII + </h2> + <p class="pfirst"> + <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">V</span>anyusha, who + meanwhile had finished his housekeeping arrangements and had even been + shaved by the company’s barber and had pulled his trousers out of + his high boots as a sign that the company was stationed in comfortable + quarters, was in excellent spirits. He looked attentively but not + benevolently at Eroshka, as at a wild beast he had never seen before, + shook his head at the floor which the old man had dirtied and, having + taken two bottles from under a bench, went to the landlady. + </p> + <p> + ‘Good evening, kind people,’ he said, having made up his mind to be + very gentle. ‘My master has sent me to get some chikhir. Will you + draw some for me, good folk?’ + </p> + <p> + The old woman gave no answer. The girl, who was arranging the kerchief on + her head before a little Tartar mirror, looked round at Vanyusha in + silence. + </p> + <p> + ‘I’ll pay money for it, honoured people,’ said Vanyusha, + jingling the coppers in his pocket. ‘Be kind to us and we, too will + be kind to you,’ he added. + </p> + <p> + ‘How much?’ asked the old woman abruptly. ‘A quart.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Go, my own, draw some for them,’ said Granny Ulitka to her + daughter. ‘Take it from the cask that’s begun, my precious.’ + </p> + <p> + The girl took the keys and a decanter and went out of the hut with + Vanyusha. + </p> + <p> + ‘Tell me, who is that young woman?’ asked Olenin, pointing to + Maryanka, who was passing the window. The old man winked and nudged the + young man with his elbow. + </p> + <p> + ‘Wait a bit,’ said he and reached out of the window. ‘Khm,’ + he coughed, and bellowed, ‘Maryanka dear. Hallo, Maryanka, my + girlie, won’t you love me, darling? I’m a wag,’ he added + in a whisper to Olenin. The girl, not turning her head and swinging her + arms regularly and vigorously, passed the window with the peculiarly smart + and bold gait of a Cossack woman and only turned her dark shaded eyes + slowly towards the old man. + </p> + <p> + ‘Love me and you’ll be happy,’ shouted Eroshka, winking, and + he looked questioningly at the cadet. + </p> + <p> + ‘I’m a fine fellow, I’m a wag!’ he added. ‘She’s + a regular queen, that girl. Eh?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘She is lovely,’ said Olenin. ‘Call her here!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘No, no,’ said the old man. ‘For that one a match is being + arranged with Lukashka, Luke, a fine Cossack, a brave, who killed an abrek + the other day. I’ll find you a better one. I’ll find you one + that will be all dressed up in silk and silver. Once I’ve said it I’ll + do it. I’ll get you a regular beauty!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘You, an old man—and say such things,’ replied Olenin. ‘Why, + it’s a sin!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘A sin? Where’s the sin?’ said the old man emphatically. + ‘A sin to look at a nice girl? A sin to have some fun with her? Or + is it a sin to love her? Is that so in your parts? ... No, my dear fellow, + it’s not a sin, it’s salvation! God made you and God made the + girl too. He made it all; so it is no sin to look at a nice girl. That’s + what she was made for; to be loved and to give joy. That’s how I + judge it, my good fellow.’ + </p> + <p> + Having crossed the yard and entered a cool dark storeroom filled with + barrels, Maryanka went up to one of them and repeating the usual prayer + plunged a dipper into it. Vanyusha standing in the doorway smiled as he + looked at her. He thought it very funny that she had only a smock on, + close-fitting behind and tucked up in front, and still funnier that she + wore a necklace of silver coins. He thought this quite un-Russian and that + they would all laugh in the serfs’ quarters at home if they saw a + girl like that. ‘La fille comme c’est tres bien, for a change,’ + he thought. ‘I’ll tell that to my master.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘What are you standing in the light for, you devil!’ the girl + suddenly shouted. ‘Why don’t you pass me the decanter!’ + </p> + <p> + Having filled the decanter with cool red wine, Maryanka handed it to + Vanyusha. + </p> + <p> + ‘Give the money to Mother,’ she said, pushing away the hand in which + he held the money. + </p> + <p> + Vanyusha laughed. + </p> + <p> + ‘Why are you so cross, little dear?’ he said good-naturedly, + irresolutely shuffling with his feet while the girl was covering the + barrel. + </p> + <p> + She began to laugh. + </p> + <p> + ‘And you! Are you kind?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘We, my master and I, are very kind,’ Vanyusha answered decidedly. + ‘We are so kind that wherever we have stayed our hosts were always + very grateful. It’s because he’s generous.’ + </p> + <p> + The girl stood listening. + </p> + <p> + ‘And is your master married?’ she asked. + </p> + <p> + ‘No. The master is young and unmarried, because noble gentlemen can never + marry young,’ said Vanyusha didactically. + </p> + <p> + ‘A likely thing! See what a fed-up buffalo he is—and too young to + marry! Is he the chief of you all?’ she asked. + </p> + <p> + ‘My master is a cadet; that means he’s not yet an officer, but he’s + more important than a general—he’s an important man! Because + not only our colonel, but the Tsar himself, knows him,’ proudly + explained Vanyusha. ‘We are not like those other beggars in the line + regiment, and our papa himself was a Senator. He had more than a thousand + serfs, all his own, and they send us a thousand rubles at a time. That’s + why everyone likes us. Another may be a captain but have no money. What’s + the use of that?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Go away. I’ll lock up,’ said the girl, interrupting him. + </p> + <p> + Vanyusha brought Olenin the wine and announced that ‘La fille c’est + tres joulie,’ and, laughing stupidly, at once went out. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0013" id="link2HCH0013"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Chapter XIII + </h2> + <p class="pfirst"> + <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">M</span>eanwhile the + tattoo had sounded in the village square. The people had returned from + their work. The herd lowed as in clouds of golden dust it crowded at the + village gate. The girls and the women hurried through the streets and + yards, turning in their cattle. The sun had quite hidden itself behind the + distant snowy peaks. One pale bluish shadow spread over land and sky. + Above the darkened gardens stars just discernible were kindling, and the + sounds were gradually hushed in the village. The cattle having been + attended to and left for the night, the women came out and gathered at the + corners of the streets and, cracking sunflower seeds with their teeth, + settled down on the earthen embankments of the houses. Later on Maryanka, + having finished milking the buffalo and the other two cows, also joined + one of these groups. + </p> + <p> + The group consisted of several women and girls and one old Cossack man. + </p> + <p> + They were talking about the abrek who had been killed. + </p> + <p> + The Cossack was narrating and the women questioning him. + </p> + <p> + ‘I expect he’ll get a handsome reward,’ said one of the women. + </p> + <p> + ‘Of course. It’s said that they’ll send him a cross.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Mosev did try to wrong him. Took the gun away from him, but the + authorities at Kizlyar heard of it.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘A mean creature that Mosev is!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘They say Lukashka has come home,’ remarked one of the girls. + </p> + <p> + ‘He and Nazarka are merry-making at Yamka’s.’ (Yamka was an + unmarried, disreputable Cossack woman who kept an illicit pot-house.) + ‘I heard say they had drunk half a pailful.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘What luck that Snatcher has,’ somebody remarked. ‘A real + snatcher. But there’s no denying he’s a fine lad, smart enough + for anything, a right-minded lad! His father was just such another. Daddy + Kiryak was: he takes after his father. When he was killed the whole + village howled. Look, there they are,’ added the speaker, pointing + to the Cossacks who were coming down the street towards them. + </p> + <p> + ‘And Ergushov has managed to come along with them too! The drunkard!’ + </p> + <p> + Lukashka, Nazarka, and Ergushov, having emptied half a pail of vodka, were + coming towards the girls. The faces of all three, but especially that of + the old Cossack, were redder than usual. Ergushov was reeling and kept + laughing and nudging Nazarka in the ribs. + </p> + <p> + ‘Why are you not singing?’ he shouted to the girls. ‘Sing to + our merry-making, I tell you!’ + </p> + <p> + They were welcomed with the words, ‘Had a good day? Had a good day?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Why sing? It’s not a holiday,’ said one of the women. ‘You’re + tight, so you go and sing.’ + </p> + <p> + Ergushov roared with laughter and nudged Nazarka. ‘You’d + better sing. And I’ll begin too. I’m clever, I tell you.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Are you asleep, fair ones?’ said Nazarka. ‘We’ve come + from the cordon to drink your health. We’ve already drunk Lukashka’s + health.’ + </p> + <p> + Lukashka, when he reached the group, slowly raised his cap and stopped in + front of the girls. His broad cheekbones and neck were red. He stood and + spoke softly and sedately, but in his tranquillity and sedateness there + was more of animation and strength than in all Nazarka’s loquacity + and bustle. He reminded one of a playful colt that with a snort and a + flourish of its tail suddenly stops short and stands as though nailed to + the ground with all four feet. Lukashka stood quietly in front of the + girls, his eyes laughed, and he spoke but little as he glanced now at his + drunken companions and now at the girls. When Maryanka joined the group he + raised his cap with a firm deliberate movement, moved out of her way and + then stepped in front of her with one foot a little forward and with his + thumbs in his belt, fingering his dagger. Maryanka answered his greeting + with a leisurely bow of her head, settled down on the earth-bank, and took + some seeds out of the bosom of her smock. Lukashka, keeping his eyes fixed + on Maryanka, slowly cracked seeds and spat out the shells. All were quiet + when Maryanka joined the group. + </p> + <p> + ‘Have you come for long?’ asked a woman, breaking the silence. + </p> + <p> + ‘Till to-morrow morning,’ quietly replied Lukashka. + </p> + <p> + ‘Well, God grant you get something good,’ said the Cossack; ‘I’m + glad of it, as I’ve just been saying.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘And I say so too,’ put in the tipsy Ergushov, laughing. ‘What + a lot of visitors have come,’ he added, pointing to a soldier who + was passing by. ‘The soldiers’ vodka is good—I like it.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘They’ve sent three of the devils to us,’ said one of the + women. ‘Grandad went to the village Elders, but they say nothing can be + done.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Ah, ha! Have you met with trouble?’ said Ergushov. + </p> + <p> + ‘I expect they have smoked you out with their tobacco?’ asked + another woman. ‘Smoke as much as you like in the yard, I say, but we + won’t allow it inside the hut. Not if the Elder himself comes, I won’t + allow it. Besides, they may rob you. He’s not quartered any of them + on himself, no fear, that devil’s son of an Elder.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘You don’t like it?’ Ergushov began again. + </p> + <p> + ‘And I’ve also heard say that the girls will have to make the + soldiers’ beds and offer them chikhir and honey,’ said + Nazarka, putting one foot forward and tilting his cap like Lukashka. + </p> + <p> + Ergushov burst into a roar of laughter, and seizing the girl nearest to + him, he embraced her. ‘I tell you true.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Now then, you black pitch!’ squealed the girl, ‘I’ll + tell your old woman.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Tell her,’ shouted he. ‘That’s quite right what Nazarka + says; a circular has been sent round. He can read, you know. Quite true!’ + And he began embracing the next girl. + </p> + <p> + ‘What are you up to, you beast?’ squealed the rosy, round-faced + Ustenka, laughing and lifting her arm to hit him. + </p> + <p> + The Cossack stepped aside and nearly fell. + </p> + <p> + ‘There, they say girls have no strength, and you nearly killed me.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Get away, you black pitch, what devil has brought you from the cordon?’ + said Ustenka, and turning away from him she again burst out laughing. + ‘You were asleep and missed the abrek, didn’t you? Suppose he + had done for you it would have been all the better.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘You’d have howled, I expect,’ said Nazarka, laughing. + </p> + <p> + ‘Howled! A likely thing.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Just look, she doesn’t care. She’d howl, Nazarka, eh? Would + she?’ said Ergushov. + </p> + <p> + Lukishka all this time had stood silently looking at Maryanka. His gaze + evidently confused the girl. + </p> + <p> + ‘Well, Maryanka! I hear they’ve quartered one of the chiefs on you?’ + he said, drawing nearer. + </p> + <p> + Maryanka, as was her wont, waited before she replied, and slowly raising + her eyes looked at the Cossack. Lukashka’s eyes were laughing as if + something special, apart from what was said, was taking place between + himself and the girl. + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes, it’s all right for them as they have two huts,’ replied + an old woman on Maryanka’s behalf, ‘but at Fomushkin’s + now they also have one of the chiefs quartered on them and they say one + whole corner is packed full with his things, and the family have no room + left. Was such a thing ever heard of as that they should turn a whole + horde loose in the village?’ she said. ‘And what the plague + are they going to do here?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I’ve heard say they’ll build a bridge across the Terek,’ + said one of the girls. + </p> + <p> + ‘And I’ve been told that they will dig a pit to put the girls in + because they don’t love the lads,’ said Nazarka, approaching + Ustenka; and he again made a whimsical gesture which set everybody + laughing, and Ergushov, passing by Maryanka, who was next in turn, began + to embrace an old woman. + </p> + <p> + ‘Why don’t you hug Maryanka? You should do it to each in turn,’ + said Nazarka. + </p> + <p> + ‘No, my old one is sweeter,’ shouted the Cossack, kissing the + struggling old woman. + </p> + <p> + ‘You’ll throttle me,’ she screamed, laughing. + </p> + <p> + The tramp of regular footsteps at the other end of the street interrupted + their laughter. Three soldiers in their cloaks, with their muskets on + their shoulders, were marching in step to relieve guard by the ammunition + wagon. + </p> + <p> + The corporal, an old cavalry man, looked angrily at the Cossacks and led + his men straight along the road where Lukashka and Nazarka were standing, + so that they should have to get out of the way. Nazarka moved, but + Lukashka only screwed up his eyes and turned his broad back without moving + from his place. + </p> + <p> + ‘People are standing here, so you go round,’ he muttered, half + turning his head and tossing it contemptuously in the direction of the + soldiers. + </p> + <p> + The soldiers passed by in silence, keeping step regularly along the dusty + road. + </p> + <p> + Maryanka began laughing and all the other girls chimed in. + </p> + <p> + ‘What swells!’ said Nazarka, ‘Just like long-skirted + choristers,’ and he walked a few steps down the road imitating the + soldiers. + </p> + <p> + Again everyone broke into peals of laughter. + </p> + <p> + Lukashka came slowly up to Maryanka. + </p> + <p> + ‘And where have you put up the chief?’ he asked. + </p> + <p> + Maryanka thought for a moment. + </p> + <p> + ‘We’ve let him have the new hut,’ she said. + </p> + <p> + ‘And is he old or young,’ asked Lukashka, sitting down beside her. + </p> + <p> + ‘Do you think I’ve asked?’ answered the girl. ‘I went to + get him some chikhir and saw him sitting at the window with Daddy Eroshka. + Red-headed he seemed. They’ve brought a whole cartload of things.’ + </p> + <p> + And she dropped her eyes. + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, how glad I am that I got leave from the cordon!’ said Lukashka, + moving closer to the girl and looking straight in her eyes all the time. + </p> + <p> + ‘And have you come for long?’ asked Maryanka, smiling slightly. + </p> + <p> + ‘Till the morning. Give me some sunflower seeds,’ he said, holding + out his hand. + </p> + <p> + Maryanka now smiled outright and unfastened the neckband of her smock. + </p> + <p> + ‘Don’t take them all,’ she said. + </p> + <p> + ‘Really I felt so dull all the time without you, I swear I did,’ he + said in a calm, restrained whisper, helping himself to some seeds out of + the bosom of the girl’s smock, and stooping still closer over her he + continued with laughing eyes to talk to her in low tones. + </p> + <p> + ‘I won’t come, I tell you,’ Maryanka suddenly said aloud, + leaning away from him. + </p> + <p> + ‘No really ... what I wanted to say to you, ...’ whispered Lukashka. + ‘By the Heavens! Do come!’ + </p> + <p> + Maryanka shook her head, but did so with a smile. + </p> + <p> + ‘Nursey Maryanka! Hallo Nursey! Mammy is calling! Supper time!’ + shouted Maryanka’s little brother, running towards the group. + </p> + <p> + ‘I’m coming,’ replied the girl. ‘Go, my dear, go alone—I’ll + come in a minute.’ + </p> + <p> + Lukashka rose and raised his cap. + </p> + <p> + ‘I expect I had better go home too, that will be best,’ he said, + trying to appear unconcerned but hardly able to repress a smile, and he + disappeared behind the corner of the house. + </p> + <p> + Meanwhile night had entirely enveloped the village. Bright stars were + scattered over the dark sky. The streets became dark and empty. Nazarka + remained with the women on the earth-bank and their laughter was still + heard, but Lukashka, having slowly moved away from the girls, crouched + down like a cat and then suddenly started running lightly, holding his + dagger to steady it: not homeward, however, but towards the cornet’s + house. Having passed two streets he turned into a lane and lifting the + skirt of his coat sat down on the ground in the shadow of a fence. ‘A + regular cornet’s daughter!’ he thought about Maryanka. ‘Won’t + even have a lark—the devil! But just wait a bit.’ + </p> + <p> + The approaching footsteps of a woman attracted his attention. He began + listening, and laughed all by himself. Maryanka with bowed head, striking + the pales of the fences with a switch, was walking with rapid regular + strides straight towards him. Lukashka rose. Maryanka started and stopped. + </p> + <p> + ‘What an accursed devil! You frightened me! So you have not gone home?’ + she said, and laughed aloud. + </p> + <p> + Lukashka put one arm round her and with the other hand raised her face. + ‘What I wanted to tell you, by Heaven!’ his voice trembled and + broke. + </p> + <p> + ‘What are you talking of, at night time!’ answered Maryanka. ‘Mother + is waiting for me, and you’d better go to your sweetheart.’ + </p> + <p> + And freeing herself from his arms she ran away a few steps. When she had + reached the wattle fence of her home she stopped and turned to the Cossack + who was running beside her and still trying to persuade her to stay a + while with him. + </p> + <p> + ‘Well, what do you want to say, midnight-gadabout?’ and she again + began laughing. + </p> + <p> + ‘Don’t laugh at me, Maryanka! By the Heaven! Well, what if I have a + sweetheart? May the devil take her! Only say the word and now I’ll + love you—I’ll do anything you wish. Here they are!’ and + he jingled the money in his pocket. ‘Now we can live splendidly. + Others have pleasures, and I? I get no pleasure from you, Maryanka dear!’ + </p> + <p> + The girl did not answer. She stood before him breaking her switch into + little bits with a rapid movement of her fingers. + </p> + <p> + Lukashka suddenly clenched his teeth and fists. + </p> + <p> + ‘And why keep waiting and waiting? Don’t I love you, darling? You + can do what you like with me,’ said he suddenly, frowning angrily + and seizing both her hands. + </p> + <p> + The calm expression of Maryanka’s face and voice did not change. + </p> + <p> + ‘Don’t bluster, Lukashka, but listen to me,’ she answered, not + pulling away her hands but holding the Cossack at arm’s length. + ‘It’s true I am a girl, but you listen to me! It does not + depend on me, but if you love me I’ll tell you this. Let go my + hands, I’ll tell you without.—I’ll marry you, but you’ll + never get any nonsense from me,’ said Maryanka without turning her + face. + </p> + <p> + ‘What, you’ll marry me? Marriage does not depend on us. Love me + yourself, Maryanka dear,’ said Lukashka, from sullen and furious + becoming again gentle, submissive, and tender, and smiling as he looked + closely into her eyes. + </p> + <p> + Maryanka clung to him and kissed him firmly on the lips. + </p> + <p> + ‘Brother dear!’ she whispered, pressing him convulsively to her. + Then, suddenly tearing herself away, she ran into the gate of her house + without looking round. + </p> + <p> + In spite of the Cossack’s entreaties to wait another minute to hear + what he had to say, Maryanka did not stop. + </p> + <p> + ‘Go,’ she cried, ‘you’ll be seen! I do believe that + devil, our lodger, is walking about the yard.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Cornet’s daughter,’ thought Lukashka. ‘She will marry + me. Marriage is all very well, but you just love me!’ + </p> + <p> + He found Nazarka at Yamka’s house, and after having a spree with him + went to Dunayka’s house, where, in spite of her not being faithful + to him, he spent the night. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0014" id="link2HCH0014"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Chapter XIV + </h2> + <p class="pfirst"> + <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">I</span>t was quite true + that Olenin had been walking about the yard when Maryanka entered the + gate, and had heard her say, ‘That devil, our lodger, is walking + about.’ He had spent that evening with Daddy Eroshka in the porch of + his new lodging. He had had a table, a samovar, wine, and a candle brought + out, and over a cup of tea and a cigar he listened to the tales the old + man told seated on the threshold at his feet. Though the air was still, + the candle dripped and flickered: now lighting up the post of the porch, + now the table and crockery, now the cropped white head of the old man. + Moths circled round the flame and, shedding the dust of their wings, + fluttered on the table and in the glasses, flew into the candle flame, and + disappeared in the black space beyond. Olenin and Eroshka had emptied five + bottles of chikhir. Eroshka filled the glasses every time, offering one to + Olenin, drinking his health, and talking untiringly. He told of Cossack + life in the old days: of his father, ‘The Broad’, who alone + had carried on his back a boar’s carcass weighing three + hundredweight, and drank two pails of chikhir at one sitting. He told of + his own days and his chum Girchik, with whom during the plague he used to + smuggle felt cloaks across the Terek. He told how one morning he had + killed two deer, and about his ‘little soul’ who used to run to him + at the cordon at night. He told all this so eloquently and picturesquely + that Olenin did not notice how time passed. ‘Ah yes, my dear fellow, + you did not know me in my golden days; then I’d have shown you + things. Today it’s “Eroshka licks the jug”, but then + Eroshka was famous in the whole regiment. Whose was the finest horse? Who + had a Gurda sword? To whom should one go to get a drink? With whom go on + the spree? Who should be sent to the mountains to kill Ahmet Khan? Why, + always Eroshka! Whom did the girls love? Always Eroshka had to answer for + it. Because I was a real brave: a drinker, a thief (I used to seize herds + of horses in the mountains), a singer; I was a master of every art! There + are no Cossacks like that nowadays. It’s disgusting to look at them. + When they’re that high [Eroshka held his hand three feet from the + ground] they put on idiotic boots and keep looking at them—that’s + all the pleasure they know. Or they’ll drink themselves foolish, not + like men but all wrong. And who was I? I was Eroshka, the thief; they knew + me not only in this village but up in the mountains. Tartar princes, my + kunaks, used to come to see me! I used to be everybody’s kunak. If + he was a Tartar—with a Tartar; an Armenian—with an Armenian; a + soldier—with a soldier; an officer—with an officer! I didn’t + care as long as he was a drinker. He says you should cleanse yourself from + intercourse with the world, not drink with soldiers, not eat with a + Tartar.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Who says all that?’ asked Olenin. + </p> + <p> + ‘Why, our teacher! But listen to a Mullah or a Tartar Cadi. He says, + “You unbelieving Giaours, why do you eat pig?” That shows that + everyone has his own law. But I think it’s all one. God has made + everything for the joy of man. There is no sin in any of it. Take example + from an animal. It lives in the Tartar’s reeds or in ours. Wherever + it happens to go, there is its home! Whatever God gives it, that it eats! + But our people say we have to lick red-hot plates in hell for that. And I + think it’s all a fraud,’ he added after a pause. + </p> + <p> + ‘What is a fraud?’ asked Olenin. + </p> + <p> + ‘Why, what the preachers say. We had an army captain in Chervlena who was + my kunak: a fine fellow just like me. He was killed in Chechnya. Well, he + used to say that the preachers invent all that out of their own heads. + “When you die the grass will grow on your grave and that’s + all!”’ The old man laughed. ‘He was a desperate fellow.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘And how old are you?’ asked Olenin. + </p> + <p> + ‘The Lord only knows! I must be about seventy. When a Tsaritsa reigned in + Russia I was no longer very small. So you can reckon it out. I must be + seventy.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes you must, but you are still a fine fellow.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Well, thank Heaven I am healthy, quite healthy, except that a woman, a + witch, has harmed me....’ + </p> + <p> + ‘How?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, just harmed me.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘And so when you die the grass will grow?’ repeated Olenin. + </p> + <p> + Eroshka evidently did not wish to express his thought clearly. He was + silent for a while. + </p> + <p> + ‘And what did you think? Drink!’ he shouted suddenly, smiling and + handing Olenin some wine. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0015" id="link2HCH0015"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Chapter XV + </h2> + <p> + |'Well, what was I saying?’ he continued, trying to remember. + ‘Yes, that’s the sort of man I am. I am a hunter. There is no + hunter to equal me in the whole army. I will find and show you any animal + and any bird, and what and where. I know it all! I have dogs, and two + guns, and nets, and a screen and a hawk. I have everything, thank the + Lord! If you are not bragging but are a real sportsman, I’ll show + you everything. Do you know what a man I am? When I have found a track—I + know the animal. I know where he will lie down and where he’ll drink + or wallow. I make myself a perch and sit there all night watching. What’s + the good of staying at home? One only gets into mischief, gets drunk. And + here women come and chatter, and boys shout at me—enough to drive + one mad. It’s a different matter when you go out at nightfall, + choose yourself a place, press down the reeds and sit there and stay + waiting, like a jolly fellow. One knows everything that goes on in the + woods. One looks up at the sky: the stars move, you look at them and find + out from them how the time goes. One looks round—the wood is + rustling; one goes on waiting, now there comes a crackling—a boar + comes to rub himself; one listens to hear the young eaglets screech and + then the cocks give voice in the village, or the geese. When you hear the + geese you know it is not yet midnight. And I know all about it! Or when a + gun is fired somewhere far away, thoughts come to me. One thinks, who is + that firing? Is it another Cossack like myself who has been watching for + some animal? And has he killed it? Or only wounded it so that now the poor + thing goes through the reeds smearing them with its blood all for nothing? + I don’t like that! Oh, how I dislike it! Why injure a beast? You + fool, you fool! Or one thinks, “Maybe an abrek has killed some silly + little Cossack.” All this passes through one’s mind. And once + as I sat watching by the river I saw a cradle floating down. It was sound + except for one corner which was broken off. Thoughts did come that time! I + thought some of your soldiers, the devils, must have got into a Tartar + village and seized the Chechen women, and one of the devils has killed the + little one: taken it by its legs, and hit its head against a wall. Don’t + they do such things? Ah! Men have no souls! And thoughts came to me that + filled me with pity. I thought: they’ve thrown away the cradle and + driven the wife out, and her brave has taken his gun and come across to + our side to rob us. One watches and thinks. And when one hears a litter + breaking through the thicket, something begins to knock inside one. Dear + one, come this way! “They’ll scent me,” one thinks; and + one sits and does not stir while one’s heart goes dun! dun! dun! and + simply lifts you. Once this spring a fine litter came near me, I saw + something black. “In the name of the Father and of the Son,” + and I was just about to fire when she grunts to her pigs: “Danger, + children,” she says, “there’s a man here,” and off + they all ran, breaking through the bushes. And she had been so close I + could almost have bitten her.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘How could a sow tell her brood that a man was there?’ asked Olenin. + </p> + <p> + ‘What do you think? You think the beast’s a fool? No, he is wiser + than a man though you do call him a pig! He knows everything. Take this + for instance. A man will pass along your track and not notice it; but a + pig as soon as it gets onto your track turns and runs at once: that shows + there is wisdom in him, since he scents your smell and you don’t. + And there is this to be said too: you wish to kill it and it wishes to go + about the woods alive. You have one law and it has another. It is a pig, + but it is no worse than you—it too is God’s creature. Ah, + dear! Man is foolish, foolish, foolish!’ The old man repeated this + several times and then, letting his head drop, he sat thinking. + </p> + <p> + Olenin also became thoughtful, and descending from the porch with his + hands behind his back began pacing up and down the yard. + </p> + <p> + Eroshka, rousing himself, raised his head and began gazing intently at the + moths circling round the flickering flame of the candle and burning + themselves in it. + </p> + <p> + ‘Fool, fool!’ he said. ‘Where are you flying to? Fool, fool!’ + He rose and with his thick fingers began to drive away the moths. + </p> + <p> + ‘You’ll burn, little fool! Fly this way, there’s plenty of + room.’ He spoke tenderly, trying to catch them delicately by their + wings with his thick fingers and then letting them fly again. ‘You + are killing yourself and I am sorry for you!’ + </p> + <p> + He sat a long time chattering and sipping out of the bottle. Olenin paced + up and down the yard. Suddenly he was struck by the sound of whispering + outside the gate. Involuntarily holding his breath, he heard a woman’s + laughter, a man’s voice, and the sound of a kiss. Intentionally + rustling the grass under his feet he crossed to the opposite side of the + yard, but after a while the wattle fence creaked. A Cossack in a dark + Circassian coat and a white sheepskin cap passed along the other side of + the fence (it was Luke), and a tall woman with a white kerchief on her + head went past Olenin. ‘You and I have nothing to do with one + another’ was what Maryanka’s firm step gave him to understand. + He followed her with his eyes to the porch of the hut, and he even saw her + through the window take off her kerchief and sit down. And suddenly a + feeling of lonely depression and some vague longings and hopes, and envy + of someone or other, overcame the young man’s soul. + </p> + <p> + The last lights had been put out in the huts. The last sounds had died + away in the village. The wattle fences and the cattle gleaming white in + the yards, the roofs of the houses and the stately poplars, all seemed to + be sleeping the labourers’ healthy peaceful sleep. Only the + incessant ringing voices of frogs from the damp distance reached the young + man. In the east the stars were growing fewer and fewer and seemed to be + melting in the increasing light, but overhead they were denser and deeper + than before. The old man was dozing with his head on his hand. A cock + crowed in the yard opposite, but Olenin still paced up and down thinking + of something. The sound of a song sung by several voices reached him and + he stepped up to the fence and listened. The voices of several young + Cossacks carolled a merry song, and one voice was distinguishable among + them all by its firm strength. + </p> + <p> + ‘Do you know who is singing there?’ said the old man, rousing + himself. ‘It is the Brave, Lukashka. He has killed a Chechen and now he + rejoices. And what is there to rejoice at? ... The fool, the fool!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘And have you ever killed people?’ asked Olenin. + </p> + <p> + ‘You devil!’ shouted the old man. ‘What are you asking? One + must not talk so. It is a serious thing to destroy a human being ... Ah, a + very serious thing! Good-bye, my dear fellow. I’ve eaten my fill and + am drunk,’ he said rising. ‘Shall I come to-morrow to go + shooting?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes, come!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Mind, get up early; if you oversleep you will be fined!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Never fear, I’ll be up before you,’ answered Olenin. + </p> + <p> + The old man left. The song ceased, but one could hear footsteps and merry + talk. A little later the singing broke out again but farther away, and + Eroshka’s loud voice chimed in with the other. ‘What people, + what a life!’ thought Olenin with a sigh as he returned alone to his + hut. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0016" id="link2HCH0016"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Chapter XVI + </h2> + <p class="pfirst"> + <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">D</span>addy Eroshka was a + superannuated and solitary Cossack: twenty years ago his wife had gone + over to the Orthodox Church and run away from him and married a Russian + sergeant-major, and he had no children. He was not bragging when he spoke + of himself as having been the boldest dare-devil in the village when he + was young. Everybody in the regiment knew of his old-time prowess. The + death of more than one Russian, as well as Chechen, lay on his conscience. + He used to go plundering in the mountains, and robbed the Russians too; + and he had twice been in prison. The greater part of his life was spent in + the forests, hunting. There he lived for days on a crust of bread and + drank nothing but water. But on the other hand, when he was in the village + he made merry from morning to night. After leaving Olenin he slept for a + couple of hours and awoke before it was light. He lay on his bed thinking + of the man he had become acquainted with the evening before. Olenin’s + ‘simplicity’ (simplicity in the sense of not grudging him a drink) + pleased him very much, and so did Olenin himself. He wondered why the + Russians were all ‘simple’ and so rich, and why they were + educated, and yet knew nothing. He pondered on these questions and also + considered what he might get out of Olenin. + </p> + <p> + Daddy Eroshka’s hut was of a good size and not old, but the absence + of a woman was very noticeable in it. Contrary to the usual cleanliness of + the Cossacks, the whole of this hut was filthy and exceedingly untidy. A + blood-stained coat had been thrown on the table, half a dough-cake lay + beside a plucked and mangled crow with which to feed the hawk. Sandals of + raw hide, a gun, a dagger, a little bag, wet clothes, and sundry rags lay + scattered on the benches. In a corner stood a tub with stinking water, in + which another pair of sandals were being steeped, and near by was a gun + and a hunting-screen. On the floor a net had been thrown down and several + dead pheasants lay there, while a hen tied by its leg was walking about + near the table pecking among the dirt. In the unheated oven stood a broken + pot with some kind of milky liquid. On the top of the oven a falcon was + screeching and trying to break the cord by which it was tied, and a + moulting hawk sat quietly on the edge of the oven, looking askance at the + hen and occasionally bowing its head to right and left. Daddy Eroshka + himself, in his shirt, lay on his back on a short bed rigged up between + the wall and the oven, with his strong legs raised and his feet on the + oven. He was picking with his thick fingers at the scratches left on his + hands by the hawk, which he was accustomed to carry without wearing + gloves. The whole room, especially near the old man, was filled with that + strong but not unpleasant mixture of smells that he always carried about + with him. + </p> + <p> + ‘Uyde-ma, Daddy?’ (Is Daddy in?) came through the window in a sharp + voice, which he at once recognized as Lukashka’s. + </p> + <p> + ‘Uyde, Uyde, Uyde. I am in!’ shouted the old man. ‘Come in, + neighbour Mark, Luke Mark. Come to see Daddy? On your way to the cordon?’ + </p> + <p> + At the sound of his master’s shout the hawk flapped his wings and + pulled at his cord. + </p> + <p> + The old man was fond of Lukashka, who was the only man he excepted from + his general contempt for the younger generation of Cossacks. Besides that, + Lukashka and his mother, as near neighbours, often gave the old man wine, + clotted cream, and other home produce which Eroshka did not possess. Daddy + Eroshka, who all his life had allowed himself to get carried away, always + explained his infatuations from a practical point of view. ‘Well, + why not?’ he used to say to himself. ‘I’ll give them + some fresh meat, or a bird, and they won’t forget Daddy: they’ll + sometimes bring a cake or a piece of pie.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Good morning. Mark! I am glad to see you,’ shouted the old man + cheerfully, and quickly putting down his bare feet he jumped off his bed + and walked a step or two along the creaking floor, looked down at his + out-turned toes, and suddenly, amused by the appearance of his feet, + smiled, stamped with his bare heel on the ground, stamped again, and then + performed a funny dance-step. ‘That’s clever, eh?’ he + asked, his small eyes glistening. Lukashka smiled faintly. ‘Going + back to the cordon?’ asked the old man. + </p> + <p> + ‘I have brought the chikhir I promised you when we were at the cordon.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘May Christ save you!’ said the old man, and he took up the + extremely wide trousers that were lying on the floor, and his beshmet, put + them on, fastened a strap round his waist, poured some water from an + earthenware pot over his hands, wiped them on the old trousers, smoothed + his beard with a bit of comb, and stopped in front of Lukashka. ‘Ready,’ + he said. + </p> + <p> + Lukashka fetched a cup, wiped it and filled it with wine, and then handed + it to the old man. + </p> + <p> + ‘Your health! To the Father and the Son!’ said the old man, + accepting the wine with solemnity. ‘May you have what you desire, + may you always be a hero, and obtain a cross.’ + </p> + <p> + Lukashka also drank a little after repeating a prayer, and then put the + wine on the table. The old man rose and brought out some dried fish which + he laid on the threshold, where he beat it with a stick to make it tender; + then, having put it with his horny hands on a blue plate (his only one), + he placed it on the table. + </p> + <p> + ‘I have all I want. I have victuals, thank God!’ he said proudly. + ‘Well, and what of Mosev?’ he added. + </p> + <p> + Lukashka, evidently wishing to know the old man’s opinion, told him + how the officer had taken the gun from him. + </p> + <p> + ‘Never mind the gun,’ said the old man. ‘If you don’t + give the gun you will get no reward.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘But they say. Daddy, it’s little reward a fellow gets when he is + not yet a mounted Cossack; and the gun is a fine one, a Crimean, worth + eighty rubles.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Eh, let it go! I had a dispute like that with an officer, he wanted my + horse. “Give it me and you’ll be made a cornet,” says + he. I wouldn’t, and I got nothing!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes, Daddy, but you see I have to buy a horse; and they say you can’t + get one the other side of the river under fifty rubles, and mother has not + yet sold our wine.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Eh, we didn’t bother,’ said the old man; ‘when Daddy + Eroshka was your age he already stole herds of horses from the Nogay folk + and drove them across the Terek. Sometimes we’d give a fine horse + for a quart of vodka or a cloak.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Why so cheap?’ asked Lukashka. + </p> + <p> + ‘You’re a fool, a fool, Mark,’ said the old man + contemptuously. ‘Why, that’s what one steals for, so as not to + be stingy! As for you, I suppose you haven’t so much as seen how one + drives off a herd of horses? Why don’t you speak?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘What’s one to say. Daddy?’ replied Lukashka. ‘It seems + we are not the same sort of men as you were.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘You’re a fool. Mark, a fool! “Not the same sort of men!”’ + retorted the old man, mimicking the Cossack lad. ‘I was not that + sort of Cossack at your age.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘How’s that?’ asked Lukashka. + </p> + <p> + The old man shook his head contemptuously. + </p> + <p> + ‘Daddy Eroshka was simple; he did not grudge anything! That’s why I + was kunak with all Chechnya. A kunak would come to visit me and I’d + make him drunk with vodka and make him happy and put him to sleep with me, + and when I went to see him I’d take him a present—a dagger! + That’s the way it is done, and not as you do nowadays: the only + amusement lads have now is to crack seeds and spit out the shells!’ + the old man finished contemptuously, imitating the present-day Cossacks + cracking seeds and spitting out the shells. + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes, I know,’ said Lukashka; ‘that’s so!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘If you wish to be a fellow of the right sort, be a brave and not a + peasant! Because even a peasant can buy a horse—pay the money and + take the horse.’ + </p> + <p> + They were silent for a while. + </p> + <p> + ‘Well, of course it’s dull both in the village and the cordon, + Daddy: but there’s nowhere one can go for a bit of sport. All our + fellows are so timid. Take Nazarka. The other day when we went to the + Tartar village, Girey Khan asked us to come to Nogay to take some horses, + but no one went, and how was I to go alone?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘And what of Daddy? Do you think I am quite dried up? ... No, I’m + not dried up. Let me have a horse and I’ll be off to Nogay at once.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘What’s the good of talking nonsense!’ said Luke. ‘You’d + better tell me what to do about Girey Khan. He says, “Only bring + horses to the Terek, and then even if you bring a whole stud I’ll + find a place for them.” You see he’s also a shaven-headed + Tartar—how’s one to believe him?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘You may trust Girey Khan, all his kin were good people. His father too + was a faithful kunak. But listen to Daddy and I won’t teach you + wrong: make him take an oath, then it will be all right. And if you go + with him, have your pistol ready all the same, especially when it comes to + dividing up the horses. I was nearly killed that way once by a Chechen. I + wanted ten rubles from him for a horse. Trusting is all right, but don’t + go to sleep without a gun.’ Lukashka listened attentively to the old + man. + </p> + <p> + ‘I say. Daddy, have you any stone-break grass?’ he asked after a + pause. + </p> + <p> + ‘No, I haven’t any, but I’ll teach you how to get it. You’re + a good lad and won’t forget the old man.... Shall I tell you?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Tell me, Daddy.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘You know a tortoise? She’s a devil, the tortoise is!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Of course I know!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Find her nest and fence it round so that she can’t get in. Well, + she’ll come, go round it, and then will go off to find the + stone-break grass and will bring some along and destroy the fence. Anyhow + next morning come in good time, and where the fence is broken there you’ll + find the stone-break grass lying. Take it wherever you like. No lock and + no bar will be able to stop you.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Have you tried it yourself. Daddy?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘As for trying, I have not tried it, but I was told of it by good people. + I used only one charm: that was to repeat the Pilgrim rhyme when mounting + my horse; and no one ever killed me!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘What is the Pilgrim rhyme. Daddy?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘What, don’t you know it? Oh, what people! You’re right to ask + Daddy. Well, listen, and repeat after me: + </p> + <p> + ‘Hail! Ye, living in Sion, This is your King, Our steeds we shall sit on, + Sophonius is weeping. Zacharias is speaking, Father Pilgrim, Mankind ever + loving.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Kind ever loving,’ the old man repeated. ‘Do you know it now? + Try it.’ + </p> + <p> + Lukashka laughed. + </p> + <p> + ‘Come, Daddy, was it that that hindered their killing you? Maybe it just + happened so!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘You’ve grown too clever! You learn it all, and say it. It will do + you no harm. Well, suppose you have sung “Pilgrim”, it’s + all right,’ and the old man himself began laughing. ‘But just + one thing, Luke, don’t you go to Nogay!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Why?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Times have changed. You are not the same men. You’ve become + rubbishy Cossacks! And see how many Russians have come down on us! You’d + get to prison. Really, give it up! Just as if you could! Now Girchik and + I, we used...’ + </p> + <p> + And the old man was about to begin one of his endless tales, but Lukashka + glanced at the window and interrupted him. + </p> + <p> + ‘It is quite light. Daddy. It’s time to be off. Look us up some day.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘May Christ save you! I’ll go to the officer; I promised to take him + out shooting. He seems a good fellow.’ + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0017" id="link2HCH0017"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Chapter XVII + </h2> + <p class="pfirst"> + <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">F</span>rom Eroshka’s + hut Lukashka went home. As he returned, the dewy mists were rising from + the ground and enveloped the village. In various places the cattle, though + out of sight, could be heard beginning to stir. The cocks called to one + another with increasing frequency and insistence. The air was becoming + more transparent, and the villagers were getting up. Not till he was close + to it could Lukishka discern the fence of his yard, all wet with dew, the + porch of the hut, and the open shed. From the misty yard he heard the + sound of an axe chopping wood. Lukashka entered the hut. His mother was + up, and stood at the oven throwing wood into it. His little sister was + still lying in bed asleep. + </p> + <p> + ‘Well, Lukashka, had enough holiday-making?’ asked his mother + softly. ‘Where did you spend the night?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I was in the village,’ replied her son reluctantly, reaching for + his musket, which he drew from its cover and examined carefully. + </p> + <p> + His mother swayed her head. + </p> + <p> + Lukashka poured a little gunpowder onto the pan, took out a little bag + from which he drew some empty cartridge cases which he began filling, + carefully plugging each one with a ball wrapped in a rag. Then, having + tested the loaded cartridges with his teeth and examined them, he put down + the bag. + </p> + <p> + ‘I say, Mother, I told you the bags wanted mending; have they been done?’ + he asked. + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh yes, our dumb girl was mending something last night. Why, is it time + for you to be going back to the cordon? I haven’t seen anything of + you!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes, as soon as I have got ready I shall have to go,’ answered + Lukashka, tying up the gunpowder. ‘And where is our dumb one? + Outside?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Chopping wood, I expect. She kept fretting for you. “I shall not + see him at all!” she said. She puts her hand to her face like this, + and clicks her tongue and presses her hands to her heart as much as to say—“sorry.” + Shall I call her in? She understood all about the abrek.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Call her,’ said Lukashka. ‘And I had some tallow there; bring + it: I must grease my sword.’ + </p> + <p> + The old woman went out, and a few minutes later Lukashka’s dumb + sister came up the creaking steps and entered the hut. She was six years + older than her brother and would have been extremely like him had it not + been for the dull and coarsely changeable expression (common to all deaf + and dumb people) of her face. She wore a coarse smock all patched; her + feet were bare and muddy, and on her head she had an old blue kerchief. + Her neck, arms, and face were sinewy like a peasant’s. Her clothing + and her whole appearance indicated that she always did the hard work of a + man. She brought in a heap of logs which she threw down by the oven. Then + she went up to her brother, and with a joyful smile which made her whole + face pucker up, touched him on the shoulder and began making rapid signs + to him with her hands, her face, and whole body. + </p> + <p> + ‘That’s right, that’s right, Stepka is a trump!’ + answered the brother, nodding. ‘She’s fetched everything and + mended everything, she’s a trump! Here, take this for it!’ He + brought out two pieces of gingerbread from his pocket and gave them to + her. + </p> + <p> + The dumb woman’s face flushed with pleasure, and she began making a + weird noise for joy. Having seized the gingerbread she began to + gesticulate still more rapidly, frequently pointing in one direction and + passing her thick finger over her eyebrows and her face. Lukashka + understood her and kept nodding, while he smiled slightly. She was telling + him to give the girls dainties, and that the girls liked him, and that one + girl, Maryanka—the best of them all—loved him. She indicated + Maryanka by rapidly pointing in the direction of Maryanka’s home and + to her own eyebrows and face, and by smacking her lips and swaying her + head. ‘Loves’ she expressed by pressing her hands to her + breast, kissing her hand, and pretending to embrace someone. Their mother + returned to the hut, and seeing what her dumb daughter was saying, smiled + and shook her head. Her daughter showed her the gingerbread and again made + the noise which expressed joy. + </p> + <p> + ‘I told Ulitka the other day that I’d send a matchmaker to them,’ + said the mother. ‘She took my words well.’ + </p> + <p> + Lukashka looked silently at his mother. + </p> + <p> + ‘But how about selling the wine, mother? I need a horse.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I’ll cart it when I have time. I must get the barrels ready,’ + said the mother, evidently not wishing her son to meddle in domestic + matters. ‘When you go out you’ll find a bag in the passage. I + borrowed from the neighbours and got something for you to take back to the + cordon; or shall I put it in your saddle-bag?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘All right,’ answered Lukashka. ‘And if Girey Khan should come + across the river send him to me at the cordon, for I shan’t get + leave again for a long time now; I have some business with him.’ + </p> + <p> + He began to get ready to start. + </p> + <p> + ‘I will send him on,’ said the old woman. ‘It seems you have + been spreeing at Yamka’s all the time. I went out in the night to + see the cattle, and I think it was your voice I heard singing songs.’ + </p> + <p> + Lukashka did not reply, but went out into the passage, threw the bags over + his shoulder, tucked up the skirts of his coat, took his musket, and then + stopped for a moment on the threshold. + </p> + <p> + ‘Good-bye, mother!’ he said as he closed the gate behind him. + ‘Send me a small barrel with Nazarka. I promised it to the lads, and + he’ll call for it.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘May Christ keep you, Lukashka. God be with you! I’ll send you some, + some from the new barrel,’ said the old woman, going to the fence: + ‘But listen,’ she added, leaning over the fence. + </p> + <p> + The Cossack stopped. + </p> + <p> + ‘You’ve been making merry here; well, that’s all right. Why + should not a young man amuse himself? God has sent you luck and that’s + good. But now look out and mind, my son. Don’t you go and get into + mischief. Above all, satisfy your superiors: one has to! And I will sell + the wine and find money for a horse and will arrange a match with the girl + for you.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘All right, all right!’ answered her son, frowning. + </p> + <p> + His deaf sister shouted to attract his attention. She pointed to her head + and the palm of her hand, to indicate the shaved head of a Chechen. Then + she frowned, and pretending to aim with a gun, she shrieked and began + rapidly humming and shaking her head. This meant that Lukashka should kill + another Chechen. + </p> + <p> + Lukashka understood. He smiled, and shifting the gun at his back under his + cloak stepped lightly and rapidly, and soon disappeared in the thick mist. + </p> + <p> + The old woman, having stood a little while at the gate, returned silently + to the hut and immediately began working. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0018" id="link2HCH0018"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Chapter XVIII + </h2> + <p class="pfirst"> + <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">L</span>ukasha returned to + the cordon and at the same time Daddy Eroshka whistled to his dogs and, + climbing over his wattle fence, went to Olenin’s lodging, passing by + the back of the houses (he disliked meeting women before going out hunting + or shooting). He found Olenin still asleep, and even Vanyusha, though + awake, was still in bed and looking round the room considering whether it + was not time to get up, when Daddy Eroshka, gun on shoulder and in full + hunter’s trappings, opened the door. + </p> + <p> + ‘A cudgel!’ he shouted in his deep voice. ‘An alarm! The + Chechens are upon us! Ivan! get the samovar ready for your master, and get + up yourself—quick,’ cried the old man. ‘That’s our + way, my good man! Why even the girls are already up! Look out of the + window. See, she’s going for water and you’re still sleeping!’ + </p> + <p> + Olenin awoke and jumped up, feeling fresh and lighthearted at the sight of + the old man and at the sound of his voice. + </p> + <p> + ‘Quick, Vanyusha, quick!’ he cried. + </p> + <p> + ‘Is that the way you go hunting?’ said the old man. ‘Others + are having their breakfast and you are asleep! Lyam! Here!’ he + called to his dog. ‘Is your gun ready?’ he shouted, as loud as if a + whole crowd were in the hut. + </p> + <p> + ‘Well, it’s true I’m guilty, but it can’t be helped! The + powder, Vanyusha, and the wads!’ said Olenin. + </p> + <p> + ‘A fine!’ shouted the old man. + </p> + <p> + ‘Du tay voulay vou?’ asked Vanyusha, grinning. + </p> + <p> + ‘You’re not one of us—your gabble is not like our speech, you + devil!’ the old man shouted at Vanyusha, showing the stumps of his + teeth. + </p> + <p> + ‘A first offence must be forgiven,’ said Olenin playfully, drawing + on his high boots. + </p> + <p> + ‘The first offence shall be forgiven,’ answered Eroshka, ‘but + if you oversleep another time you’ll be fined a pail of chikhir. + When it gets warmer you won’t find the deer.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘And even if we do find him he is wiser than we are,’ said Olenin, + repeating the words spoken by the old man the evening before, ‘and + you can’t deceive him!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes, laugh away! You kill one first, and then you may talk. Now then, + hurry up! Look, there’s the master himself coming to see you,’ + added Eroshka, looking out of the window. ‘Just see how he’s + got himself up. He’s put on a new coat so that you should see that + he’s an officer. Ah, these people, these people!’ + </p> + <p> + Sure enough Vanyusha came in and announced that the master of the house + wished to see Olenin. + </p> + <p> + ‘L’arjan!’ he remarked profoundly, to forewarn his master of + the meaning of this visitation. Following him, the master of the house in + a new Circassian coat with an officer’s stripes on the shoulders and + with polished boots (quite exceptional among Cossacks) entered the room, + swaying from side to side, and congratulated his lodger on his safe + arrival. + </p> + <p> + The cornet, Elias Vasilich, was an educated Cossack. He had been to Russia + proper, was a regimental schoolteacher, and above all he was noble. He + wished to appear noble, but one could not help feeling beneath his + grotesque pretence of polish, his affectation, his self-confidence, and + his absurd way of speaking, he was just the same as Daddy Eroshka. This + could also be clearly seen by his sunburnt face and his hands and his red + nose. Olenin asked him to sit down. + </p> + <p> + ‘Good morning. Father Elias Vasilich,’ said Eroshka, rising with (or + so it seemed to Olenin) an ironically low bow. + </p> + <p> + ‘Good morning. Daddy. So you’re here already,’ said the + cornet, with a careless nod. + </p> + <p> + The cornet was a man of about forty, with a grey pointed beard, skinny and + lean, but handsome and very fresh-looking for his age. Having come to see + Olenin he was evidently afraid of being taken for an ordinary Cossack, and + wanted to let Olenin feel his importance from the first. + </p> + <p> + ‘That’s our Egyptian Nimrod,’ he remarked, addressing Olenin + and pointing to the old man with a self-satisfied smile. ‘A mighty + hunter before the Lord! He’s our foremost man on every hand. You’ve + already been pleased to get acquainted with him.’ + </p> + <p> + Daddy Eroshka gazed at his feet in their shoes of wet raw hide and shook + his head thoughtfully at the cornet’s ability and learning, and + muttered to himself: ‘Gyptian Nimvrod! What things he invents!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes, you see we mean to go hunting,’ answered Olenin. + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes, sir, exactly,’ said the cornet, ‘but I have a small + business with you.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘What do you want?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Seeing that you are a gentleman,’ began the cornet, ‘and as I + may understand myself to be in the rank of an officer too, and therefore + we may always progressively negotiate, as gentlemen do.’ (He stopped + and looked with a smile at Olenin and at the old man.) ‘But if you + have the desire with my consent, then, as my wife is a foolish woman of + our class, she could not quite comprehend your words of yesterday’s + date. Therefore my quarters might be let for six rubles to the Regimental + Adjutant, without the stables; but I can always avert that from myself + free of charge. But, as you desire, therefore I, being myself of an + officer’s rank, can come to an agreement with you in everything + personally, as an inhabitant of this district, not according to our + customs, but can maintain the conditions in every way....’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Speaks clearly!’ muttered the old man. + </p> + <p> + The cornet continued in the same strain for a long time. At last, not + without difficulty, Olenin gathered that the cornet wished to let his + rooms to him, Olenin, for six rubles a month. The latter gladly agreed to + this, and offered his visitor a glass of tea. The cornet declined it. + </p> + <p> + ‘According to our silly custom we consider it a sort of sin to drink out + of a “worldly” tumbler,’ he said. ‘Though, of + course, with my education I may understand, but my wife from her human + weakness...’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Well then, will you have some tea?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘If you will permit me, I will bring my own particular glass,’ + answered the cornet, and stepped out into the porch. + </p> + <p> + ‘Bring me my glass!’ he cried. + </p> + <p> + In a few minutes the door opened and a young sunburnt arm in a print + sleeve thrust itself in, holding a tumbler in the hand. The cornet went + up, took it, and whispered something to his daughter. Olenin poured tea + for the cornet into the latter’s own ‘particular’ glass, + and for Eroshka into a ‘worldly’ glass. + </p> + <p> + ‘However, I do not desire to detain you,’ said the cornet, scalding + his lips and emptying his tumbler. ‘I too have a great liking for + fishing, and I am here, so to say, only on leave of absence for recreation + from my duties. I too have the desire to tempt fortune and see whether + some Gifts of the Terek may not fall to my share. I hope you too will come + and see us and have a drink of our wine, according to the custom of our + village,’ he added. + </p> + <p> + The cornet bowed, shook hands with Olenin, and went out. While Olenin was + getting ready, he heard the cornet giving orders to his family in an + authoritative and sensible tone, and a few minutes later he saw him pass + by the window in a tattered coat with his trousers rolled up to his knees + and a fishing net over his shoulder. + </p> + <p> + ‘A rascal!’ said Daddy Eroshka, emptying his ‘worldly’ + tumbler. ‘And will you really pay him six rubles? Was such a thing + ever heard of? They would let you the best hut in the village for two + rubles. What a beast! Why, I’d let you have mine for three!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘No, I’ll remain here,’ said Olenin. + </p> + <p> + ‘Six rubles! ... Clearly it’s a fool’s money. Eh, eh, eh! + answered the old man. ‘Let’s have some chikhir, Ivan!’ + </p> + <p> + Having had a snack and a drink of vodka to prepare themselves for the + road, Olenin and the old man went out together before eight o’clock. + </p> + <p> + At the gate they came up against a wagon to which a pair of oxen were + harnessed. With a white kerchief tied round her head down to her eyes, a + coat over her smock, and wearing high boots, Maryanka with a long switch + in her hand was dragging the oxen by a cord tied to their horns. + </p> + <p> + ‘Mammy,’ said the old man, pretending that he was going to seize + her. + </p> + <p> + Maryanka flourished her switch at him and glanced merrily at them both + with her beautiful eyes. + </p> + <p> + Olenin felt still more light-hearted. + </p> + <p> + ‘Now then, come on, come on,’ he said, throwing his gun on his + shoulder and conscious of the girl’s eyes upon him. + </p> + <p> + ‘Gee up!’ sounded Maryanka’s voice behind them, followed by + the creak of the moving wagon. + </p> + <p> + As long as their road lay through the pastures at the back of the village + Eroshka went on talking. He could not forget the cornet and kept on + abusing him. + </p> + <p> + ‘Why are you so angry with him?’ asked Olenin. + </p> + <p> + ‘He’s stingy. I don’t like it,’ answered the old man. + ‘He’ll leave it all behind when he dies! Then who’s he + saving up for? He’s built two houses, and he’s got a second + garden from his brother by a law-suit. And in the matter of papers what a + dog he is! They come to him from other villages to fill up documents. As + he writes it out, exactly so it happens. He gets it quite exact. But who + is he saving for? He’s only got one boy and the girl; when she’s + married who’ll be left?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Well then, he’s saving up for her dowry,’ said Olenin. + </p> + <p> + ‘What dowry? The girl is sought after, she’s a fine girl. But he’s + such a devil that he must yet marry her to a rich fellow. He wants to get + a big price for her. There’s Luke, a Cossack, a neighbour and a + nephew of mine, a fine lad. It’s he who killed the Chechen—he + has been wooing her for a long time, but he hasn’t let him have her. + He’s given one excuse, and another, and a third. “The girl’s + too young,” he says. But I know what he is thinking. He wants to + keep them bowing to him. He’s been acting shamefully about that + girl. Still, they will get her for Lukashka, because he is the best + Cossack in the village, a brave, who has killed an abrek and will be + rewarded with a cross.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘But how about this? When I was walking up and down the yard last night, I + saw my landlord’s daughter and some Cossack kissing,’ said + Olenin. + </p> + <p> + ‘You’re pretending!’ cried the old man, stopping. + </p> + <p> + ‘On my word,’ said Olenin. + </p> + <p> + ‘Women are the devil,’ said Eroshka pondering. ‘But what + Cossack was it?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I couldn’t see.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Well, what sort of a cap had he, a white one?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘And a red coat? About your height?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘No, a bit taller.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘It’s he!’ and Eroshka burst out laughing. ‘It’s + himself, it’s Mark. He is Luke, but I call him Mark for a joke. His + very self! I love him. I was just such a one myself. What’s the good + of minding them? My sweetheart used to sleep with her mother and her + sister-in-law, but I managed to get in. She used to sleep upstairs; that + witch her mother was a regular demon; it’s awful how she hated me. + Well, I used to come with a chum, Girchik his name was. We’d come + under her window and I’d climb on his shoulders, push up the window + and begin groping about. She used to sleep just there on a bench. Once I + woke her up and she nearly called out. She hadn’t recognized me. + “Who is there?” she said, and I could not answer. Her mother + was even beginning to stir, but I took off my cap and shoved it over her + mouth; and she at once knew it by a seam in it, and ran out to me. I used + not to want anything then. She’d bring along clotted cream and + grapes and everything,’ added Eroshka (who always explained things + practically), ‘and she wasn’t the only one. It was a life!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘And what now?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Now we’ll follow the dog, get a pheasant to settle on a tree, and + then you may fire.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Would you have made up to Maryanka?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Attend to the dogs. I’ll tell you tonight,’ said the old man, + pointing to his favourite dog, Lyam. + </p> + <p> + After a pause they continued talking, while they went about a hundred + paces. Then the old man stopped again and pointed to a twig that lay + across the path. + </p> + <p> + ‘What do you think of that?’ he said. ‘You think it’s + nothing? It’s bad that this stick is lying so.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Why is it bad?’ + </p> + <p> + He smiled. + </p> + <p> + ‘Ah, you don’t know anything. Just listen to me. When a stick lies + like that don’t you step across it, but go round it or throw it off + the path this way, and say “Father and Son and Holy Ghost,” + and then go on with God’s blessing. Nothing will happen to you. That’s + what the old men used to teach me.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Come, what rubbish!’ said Olenin. ‘You’d better tell me + more about Maryanka. Does she carry on with Lukashka?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Hush ... be quiet now!’ the old man again interrupted in a whisper: + ‘just listen, we’ll go round through the forest.’ + </p> + <p> + And the old man, stepping quietly in his soft shoes, led the way by a + narrow path leading into the dense, wild, overgrown forest. Now and again + with a frown he turned to look at Olenin, who rustled and clattered with + his heavy boots and, carrying his gun carelessly, several times caught the + twigs of trees that grew across the path. + </p> + <p> + ‘Don’t make a noise. Step softly, soldier!’ the old man + whispered angrily. + </p> + <p> + There was a feeling in the air that the sun had risen. The mist was + dissolving but it still enveloped the tops of the trees. The forest looked + terribly high. At every step the aspect changed: what had appeared like a + tree proved to be a bush, and a reed looked like a tree. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0019" id="link2HCH0019"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Chapter XIX + </h2> + <p class="pfirst"> + <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>he mist had partly + lifted, showing the wet reed thatches, and was now turning into dew that + moistened the road and the grass beside the fence. Smoke rose everywhere + in clouds from the chimneys. The people were going out of the village, + some to their work, some to the river, and some to the cordon. The hunters + walked together along the damp, grass-grown path. The dogs, wagging their + tails and looking at their masters, ran on both sides of them. Myriads of + gnats hovered in the air and pursued the hunters, covering their backs, + eyes, and hands. The air was fragrant with the grass and with the dampness + of the forest. Olenin continually looked round at the ox-cart in which + Maryanka sat urging on the oxen with a long switch. + </p> + <p> + It was calm. The sounds from the village, audible at first, now no longer + reached the sportsmen. Only the brambles cracked as the dogs ran under + them, and now and then birds called to one another. Olenin knew that + danger lurked in the forest, that abreks always hid in such places. But he + knew too that in the forest, for a man on foot, a gun is a great + protection. Not that he was afraid, but he felt that another in his place + might be; and looking into the damp misty forest and listening to the rare + and faint sounds with strained attention, he changed his hold on his gun + and experienced a pleasant feeling that was new to him. Daddy Eroshka went + in front, stopping and carefully scanning every puddle where an animal had + left a double track, and pointing it out to Olenin. He hardly spoke at all + and only occasionally made remarks in a whisper. The track they were + following had once been made by wagons, but the grass had long overgrown + it. The elm and plane-tree forest on both sides of them was so dense and + overgrown with creepers that it was impossible to see anything through it. + Nearly every tree was enveloped from top to bottom with wild grape vines, + and dark bramble bushes covered the ground thickly. Every little glade was + overgrown with blackberry bushes and grey feathery reeds. In places, large + hoof-prints and small funnel-shaped pheasant-trails led from the path into + the thicket. The vigour of the growth of this forest, untrampled by + cattle, struck Olenin at every turn, for he had never seen anything like + it. This forest, the danger, the old man and his mysterious whispering, + Maryanka with her virile upright bearing, and the mountains—all this + seemed to him like a dream. + </p> + <p> + ‘A pheasant has settled,’ whispered the old man, looking round and + pulling his cap over his face—‘Cover your mug! A pheasant!’ + he waved his arm angrily at Olenin and pushed forward almost on all fours. + ‘He don’t like a man’s mug.’ + </p> + <p> + Olenin was still behind him when the old man stopped and began examining a + tree. A cock-pheasant on the tree clucked at the dog that was barking at + it, and Olenin saw the pheasant; but at that moment a report, as of a + cannon, came from Eroshka’s enormous gun, the bird fluttered up and, + losing some feathers, fell to the ground. Coming up to the old man Olenin + disturbed another, and raising his gun he aimed and fired. The pheasant + flew swiftly up and then, catching at the branches as he fell, dropped + like a stone to the ground. + </p> + <p> + ‘Good man!’ the old man (who could not hit a flying bird) shouted, + laughing. + </p> + <p> + Having picked up the pheasants they went on. Olenin, excited by the + exercise and the praise, kept addressing remarks to the old man. + </p> + <p> + ‘Stop! Come this way,’ the old man interrupted. ‘I noticed the + track of deer here yesterday.’ + </p> + <p> + After they had turned into the thicket and gone some three hundred paces + they scrambled through into a glade overgrown with reeds and partly under + water. Olenin failed to keep up with the old huntsman and presently Daddy + Eroshka, some twenty paces in front, stooped down, nodding and beckoning + with his arm. On coming up with him Olenin saw a man’s footprint to + which the old man was pointing. + </p> + <p> + ‘D’you see?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes, well?’ said Olenin, trying to speak as calmly as he could. + ‘A man’s footstep!’ + </p> + <p> + Involuntarily a thought of Cooper’s Pathfinder and of abreks flashed + through Olenin’s mind, but noticing the mysterious manner with which + the old man moved on, he hesitated to question him and remained in doubt + whether this mysteriousness was caused by fear of danger or by the sport. + </p> + <p> + ‘No, it’s my own footprint,’ the old man said quietly, and + pointed to some grass under which the track of an animal was just + perceptible. + </p> + <p> + The old man went on; and Olenin kept up with him. + </p> + <p> + Descending to lower ground some twenty paces farther on they came upon a + spreading pear-tree, under which, on the black earth, lay the fresh dung + of some animal. + </p> + <p> + The spot, all covered over with wild vines, was like a cosy arbour, dark + and cool. + </p> + <p> + ‘He’s been here this morning,’ said the old man with a sigh; + ‘the lair is still damp, quite fresh.’ + </p> + <p> + Suddenly they heard a terrible crash in the forest some ten paces from + where they stood. They both started and seized their guns, but they could + see nothing and only heard the branches breaking. The rhythmical rapid + thud of galloping was heard for a moment and then changed into a hollow + rumble which resounded farther and farther off, re-echoing in wider and + wider circles through the forest. Olenin felt as though something had + snapped in his heart. He peered carefully but vainly into the green + thicket and then turned to the old man. Daddy Eroshka with his gun pressed + to his breast stood motionless; his cap was thrust backwards, his eyes + gleamed with an unwonted glow, and his open mouth, with its worn yellow + teeth, seemed to have stiffened in that position. + </p> + <p> + ‘A homed stag!’ he muttered, and throwing down his gun in despair he + began pulling at his grey beard, ‘Here it stood. We should have come + round by the path.... Fool! fool!’ and he gave his beard an angry + tug. Fool! Pig!’ he repeated, pulling painfully at his own beard. + Through the forest something seemed to fly away in the mist, and ever + farther and farther off was heard the sound of the flight of the stag. + </p> + <p> + It was already dusk when, hungry, tired, but full of vigour, Olenin + returned with the old man. Dinner was ready. He ate and drank with the old + man till he felt warm and merry. Olenin then went out into the porch. + Again, to the west, the mountains rose before his eyes. Again the old man + told his endless stories of hunting, of abreks, of sweethearts, and of all + that free and reckless life. Again the fair Maryanka went in and out and + across the yard, her beautiful powerful form outlined by her smock. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0020" id="link2HCH0020"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Chapter XX + </h2> + <p class="pfirst"> + <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>he next day Olenin + went alone to the spot where he and the old man startled the stag. Instead + of passing round through the gate he climbed over the prickly hedge, as + everybody else did, and before he had had time to pull out the thorns that + had caught in his coat, his dog, which had run on in front, started two + pheasants. He had hardly stepped among the briers when the pheasants began + to rise at every step (the old man had not shown him that place the day + before as he meant to keep it for shooting from behind the screen). Olenin + fired twelve times and killed five pheasants, but clambering after them + through the briers he got so fatigued that he was drenched with + perspiration. He called off his dog, uncocked his gun, put in a bullet + above the small shot, and brushing away the mosquitoes with the wide + sleeve of his Circassian coat he went slowly to the spot where they had + been the day before. It was however impossible to keep back the dog, who + found trails on the very path, and Olenin killed two more pheasants, so + that after being detained by this it was getting towards noon before he + began to find the place he was looking for. + </p> + <p> + The day was perfectly clear, calm, and hot. The morning moisture had dried + up even in the forest, and myriads of mosquitoes literally covered his + face, his back, and his arms. His dog had turned from black to grey, its + back being covered with mosquitoes, and so had Olenin’s coat through + which the insects thrust their stings. Olenin was ready to run away from + them and it seemed to him that it was impossible to live in this country + in the summer. He was about to go home, but remembering that other people + managed to endure such pain he resolved to bear it and gave himself up to + be devoured. And strange to say, by noontime the feeling became actually + pleasant. He even felt that without this mosquito-filled atmosphere around + him, and that mosquito-paste mingled with perspiration which his hand + smeared over his face, and that unceasing irritation all over his body, + the forest would lose for him some of its character and charm. These + myriads of insects were so well suited to that monstrously lavish wild + vegetation, these multitudes of birds and beasts which filled the forest, + this dark foliage, this hot scented air, these runlets filled with turbid + water which everywhere soaked through from the Terek and gurgled here and + there under the overhanging leaves, that the very thing which had at first + seemed to him dreadful and intolerable now seemed pleasant. After going + round the place where yesterday they had found the animal and not finding + anything, he felt inclined to rest. The sun stood right above the forest + and poured its perpendicular rays down on his back and head whenever he + came out into a glade or onto the road. The seven heavy pheasants dragged + painfully at his waist. Having found the traces of yesterday’s stag + he crept under a bush into the thicket just where the stag had lain, and + lay down in its lair. He examined the dark foliage around him, the place + marked by the stag’s perspiration and yesterday’s dung, the + imprint of the stag’s knees, the bit of black earth it had kicked + up, and his own footprints of the day before. He felt cool and comfortable + and did not think of or wish for anything. And suddenly he was overcome by + such a strange feeling of causeless joy and of love for everything, that + from an old habit of his childhood he began crossing himself and thanking + someone. Suddenly, with extraordinary clearness, he thought: ‘Here + am I, Dmitri Olenin, a being quite distinct from every other being, now + lying all alone Heaven only knows where—where a stag used to live—an + old stag, a beautiful stag who perhaps had never seen a man, and in a + place where no human being has ever sat or thought these thoughts. Here I + sit, and around me stand old and young trees, one of them festooned with + wild grape vines, and pheasants are fluttering, driving one another about + and perhaps scenting their murdered brothers.’ He felt his + pheasants, examined them, and wiped the warm blood off his hand onto his + coat. ‘Perhaps the jackals scent them and with dissatisfied faces go + off in another direction: above me, flying in among the leaves which to + them seem enormous islands, mosquitoes hang in the air and buzz: one, two, + three, four, a hundred, a thousand, a million mosquitoes, and all of them + buzz something or other and each one of them is separate from all else and + is just such a separate Dmitri Olenin as I am myself.’ He vividly + imagined what the mosquitoes buzzed: ‘This way, this way, lads! Here’s + some one we can eat!’ They buzzed and stuck to him. And it was clear + to him that he was not a Russian nobleman, a member of Moscow society, the + friend and relation of so-and-so and so-and-so, but just such a mosquito, + or pheasant, or deer, as those that were now living all around him. + ‘Just as they, just as Daddy Eroshka, I shall live awhile and die, + and as he says truly: + </p> + <p> + “grass will grow and nothing more”. + </p> + <p> + ‘But what though the grass does grow?’ he continued thinking. + ‘Still I must live and be happy, because happiness is all I desire. + Never mind what I am—an animal like all the rest, above whom the + grass will grow and nothing more; or a frame in which a bit of the one God + has been set,—still I must live in the very best way. How then must + I live to be happy, and why was I not happy before?’ And he began to + recall his former life and he felt disgusted with himself. He appeared to + himself to have been terribly exacting and selfish, though he now saw that + all the while he really needed nothing for himself. And he looked round at + the foliage with the light shining through it, at the setting sun and the + clear sky, and he felt just as happy as before. ‘Why am I happy, and + what used I to live for?’ thought he. ‘How much I exacted for + myself; how I schemed and did not manage to gain anything but shame and + sorrow! and, there now, I require nothing to be happy;’ and suddenly + a new light seemed to reveal itself to him. ‘Happiness is this!’ + he said to himself. ‘Happiness lies in living for others. That is + evident. The desire for happiness is innate in every man; therefore it is + legitimate. When trying to satisfy it selfishly—that is, by seeking + for oneself riches, fame, comforts, or love—it may happen that + circumstances arise which make it impossible to satisfy these desires. It + follows that it is these desires that are illegitimate, but not the need + for happiness. But what desires can always be satisfied despite external + circumstances? What are they? Love, self-sacrifice.’ He was so glad + and excited when he had discovered this, as it seemed to him, new truth, + that he jumped up and began impatiently seeking some one to sacrifice + himself for, to do good to and to love. ‘Since one wants nothing for + oneself,’ he kept thinking, ‘why not live for others?’ + He took up his gun with the intention of returning home quickly to think + this out and to find an opportunity of doing good. He made his way out of + the thicket. When he had come out into the glade he looked around him; the + sun was no longer visible above the tree-tops. It had grown cooler and the + place seemed to him quite strange and not like the country round the + village. Everything seemed changed—the weather and the character of + the forest; the sky was wrapped in clouds, the wind was rustling in the + tree-tops, and all around nothing was visible but reeds and dying + broken-down trees. He called to his dog who had run away to follow some + animal, and his voice came back as in a desert. And suddenly he was seized + with a terrible sense of weirdness. He grew frightened. He remembered the + abreks and the murders he had been told about, and he expected every + moment that an abrek would spring from behind every bush and he would have + to defend his life and die, or be a coward. He thought of God and of the + future life as for long he had not thought about them. And all around was + that same gloomy stern wild nature. ‘And is it worth while living + for oneself,’ thought he, ‘when at any moment you may die, and + die without having done any good, and so that no one will know of it?’ + He went in the direction where he fancied the village lay. Of his shooting + he had no further thought; but he felt tired to death and peered round at + every bush and tree with particular attention and almost with terror, + expecting every moment to be called to account for his life. After having + wandered about for a considerable time he came upon a ditch down which was + flowing cold sandy water from the Terek, and, not to go astray any longer, + he decided to follow it. He went on without knowing where the ditch would + lead him. Suddenly the reeds behind him crackled. He shuddered and seized + his gun, and then felt ashamed of himself: the over-excited dog, panting + hard, had thrown itself into the cold water of the ditch and was lapping + it! + </p> + <p> + He too had a drink, and then followed the dog in the direction it wished + to go, thinking it would lead him to the village. But despite the dog’s + company everything around him seemed still more dreary. The forest grew + darker and the wind grew stronger and stronger in the tops of the broken + old trees. Some large birds circled screeching round their nests in those + trees. The vegetation grew poorer and he came oftener and oftener upon + rustling reeds and bare sandy spaces covered with animal footprints. To + the howling of the wind was added another kind of cheerless monotonous + roar. Altogether his spirits became gloomy. Putting his hand behind him he + felt his pheasants, and found one missing. It had broken off and was lost, + and only the bleeding head and beak remained sticking in his belt. He felt + more frightened than he had ever done before. He began to pray to God, and + feared above all that he might die without having done anything good or + kind; and he so wanted to live, and to live so as to perform a feat of + self-sacrifice. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0021" id="link2HCH0021"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Chapter XXI + </h2> + <p class="pfirst"> + <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">S</span>uddenly it was as + though the sun had shone into his soul. He heard Russian being spoken, and + also heard the rapid smooth flow of the Terek, and a few steps farther in + front of him saw the brown moving surface of the river, with the + dim-coloured wet sand of its banks and shallows, the distant steppe, the + cordon watch-tower outlined above the water, a saddled and hobbled horse + among the brambles, and then the mountains opening out before him. The red + sun appeared for an instant from under a cloud and its last rays glittered + brightly along the river over the reeds, on the watch-tower, and on a + group of Cossacks, among whom Lukashka’s vigorous figure attracted + Olenin’s involuntary attention. + </p> + <p> + Olenin felt that he was again, without any apparent cause, perfectly + happy. He had come upon the Nizhni-Prototsk post on the Terek, opposite a + pro-Russian Tartar village on the other side of the river. He accosted the + Cossacks, but not finding as yet any excuse for doing anyone a kindness, + he entered the hut; nor in the hut did he find any such opportunity. The + Cossacks received him coldly. On entering the mud hut he lit a cigarette. + The Cossacks paid little attention to him, first because he was smoking a + cigarette, and secondly because they had something else to divert them + that evening. Some hostile Chechens, relatives of the abrek who had been + killed, had come from the hills with a scout to ransom the body; and the + Cossacks were waiting for their Commanding Officer’s arrival from + the village. The dead man’s brother, tall and well shaped with a + short cropped beard which was dyed red, despite his very tattered coat and + cap was calm and majestic as a king. His face was very like that of the + dead abrek. He did not deign to look at anyone, and never once glanced at + the dead body, but sitting on his heels in the shade he spat as he smoked + his short pipe, and occasionally uttered some few guttural sounds of + command, which were respectfully listened to by his companion. He was + evidently a brave who had met Russians more than once before in quite + other circumstances, and nothing about them could astonish or even + interest him. Olenin was about to approach the dead body and had begun to + look at it when the brother, looking up at him from under his brows with + calm contempt, said something sharply and angrily. The scout hastened to + cover the dead man’s face with his coat. Olenin was struck by the + dignified and stem expression of the brave’s face. He began to speak + to him, asking from what village he came, but the Chechen, scarcely giving + him a glance, spat contemptuously and turned away. Olenin was so surprised + at the Chechen not being interested in him that he could only put it down + to the man’s stupidity or ignorance of Russian; so he turned to the + scout, who also acted as interpreter. The scout was as ragged as the + other, but instead of being red-haired he was black-haired, restless, with + extremely white gleaming teeth and sparkling black eyes. The scout + willingly entered into conversation and asked for a cigarette. + </p> + <p> + ‘There were five brothers,’ began the scout in his broken Russian. + ‘This is the third brother the Russians have killed, only two are left. He + is a brave, a great brave!’ he said, pointing to the Chechen. + ‘When they killed Ahmet Khan (the dead brave) this one was sitting + on the opposite bank among the reeds. He saw it all. Saw him laid in the + skiff and brought to the bank. He sat there till the night and wished to + kill the old man, but the others would not let him.’ + </p> + <p> + Lukashka went up to the speaker, and sat down. ‘Of what village?’ + asked he. + </p> + <p> + ‘From there in the hills,’ replied the scout, pointing to the misty + bluish gorge beyond the Terek. ‘Do you know Suuk-su? It is about + eight miles beyond that.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Do you know Girey Khan in Suuk-su?’ asked Lukashka, evidently proud + of the acquaintance. ‘He is my kunak.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘He is my neighbour,’ answered the scout. + </p> + <p> + ‘He’s a trump!’ and Lukashka, evidently much interested, began + talking to the scout in Tartar. + </p> + <p> + Presently a Cossack captain, with the head of the village, arrived on + horseback with a suite of two Cossacks. The captain—one of the new + type of Cossack officers—wished the Cossacks ‘Good health,’ + but no one shouted in reply, ‘Hail! Good health to your honour,’ + as is customary in the Russian Army, and only a few replied with a bow. + Some, and among them Lukashka, rose and stood erect. The corporal replied + that all was well at the outposts. All this seemed ridiculous: it was as + if these Cossacks were playing at being soldiers. But these formalities + soon gave place to ordinary ways of behaviour, and the captain, who was a + smart Cossack just like the others, began speaking fluently in Tartar to + the interpreter. They filled in some document, gave it to the scout, and + received from him some money. Then they approached the body. + </p> + <p> + ‘Which of you is Luke Gavrilov?’ asked the captain. + </p> + <p> + Lukishka took off his cap and came forward. + </p> + <p> + ‘I have reported your exploit to the Commander. I don’t know what + will come of it. I have recommended you for a cross; you’re too + young to be made a sergeant. Can you read?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I can’t.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘But what a fine fellow to look at!’ said the captain, again playing + the commander. ‘Put on your cap. Which of the Gavrilovs does he come + of? ... the Broad, eh?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘His nephew,’ replied the corporal. + </p> + <p> + ‘I know, I know. Well, lend a hand, help them,’ he said, turning to + the Cossacks. + </p> + <p> + Lukashka’s face shone with joy and seemed handsomer than usual. He + moved away from the corporal, and having put on his cap sat down beside + Olenin. + </p> + <p> + When the body had been carried to the skiff the brother Chechen descended + to the bank. The Cossacks involuntarily stepped aside to let him pass. He + jumped into the boat and pushed off from the bank with his powerful leg, + and now, as Olenin noticed, for the first time threw a rapid glance at all + the Cossacks and then abruptly asked his companion a question. The latter + answered something and pointed to Lukashka. The Chechen looked at him and, + turning slowly away, gazed at the opposite bank. That look expressed not + hatred but cold contempt. He again made some remark. + </p> + <p> + ‘What is he saying?’ Olenin asked of the fidgety scout. + </p> + <p> + ‘Yours kill ours, ours slay yours. It’s always the same,’ + replied the scout, evidently inventing, and he smiled, showing his white + teeth, as he jumped into the skiff. + </p> + <p> + The dead man’s brother sat motionless, gazing at the opposite bank. + He was so full of hatred and contempt that there was nothing on this side + of the river that moved his curiosity. The scout, standing up at one end + of the skiff and dipping his paddle now on one side now on the other, + steered skilfully while talking incessantly. The skiff became smaller and + smaller as it moved obliquely across the stream, the voices became + scarcely audible, and at last, still within sight, they landed on the + opposite bank where their horses stood waiting. There they lifted out the + corpse and (though the horse shied) laid it across one of the saddles, + mounted, and rode at a foot-pace along the road past a Tartar village from + which a crowd came out to look at them. The Cossacks on the Russian side + of the river were highly satisfied and jovial. Laughter and jokes were + heard on all sides. The captain and the head of the village entered the + mud hut to regale themselves. Lukashka, vainly striving to impart a sedate + expression to his merry face, sat down with his elbows on his knees beside + Olenin and whittled away at a stick. + </p> + <p> + ‘Why do you smoke?’ he said with assumed curiosity. ‘Is it + good?’ + </p> + <p> + He evidently spoke because he noticed Olenin felt ill at ease and isolated + among the Cossacks. + </p> + <p> + ‘It’s just a habit,’ answered Olenin. ‘Why?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘H’m, if one of us were to smoke there would be a row! Look there + now, the mountains are not far off,’ continued Lukashka, ‘yet + you can’t get there! How will you get back alone? It’s getting + dark. I’ll take you, if you like. You ask the corporal to give me + leave.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘What a fine fellow!’ thought Olenin, looking at the Cossack’s + bright face. He remembered Maryanka and the kiss he had heard by the gate, + and he was sorry for Lukashka and his want of culture. ‘What + confusion it is,’ he thought. ‘A man kills another and is + happy and satisfied with himself as if he had done something excellent. + Can it be that nothing tells him that it is not a reason for any + rejoicing, and that happiness lies not in killing, but in sacrificing + oneself?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Well, you had better not meet him again now, mate!’ said one of the + Cossacks who had seen the skiff off, addressing Lukashka. ‘Did you + hear him asking about you?’ + </p> + <p> + Lukashka raised his head. + </p> + <p> + ‘My godson?’ said Lukashka, meaning by that word the dead Chechen. + </p> + <p> + ‘Your godson won’t rise, but the red one is the godson’s + brother!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Let him thank God that he got off whole himself,’ replied Lukashka. + </p> + <p> + ‘What are you glad about?’ asked Olenin. ‘Supposing your + brother had been killed; would you be glad?’ + </p> + <p> + The Cossack looked at Olenin with laughing eyes. He seemed to have + understood all that Olenin wished to say to him, but to be above such + considerations. + </p> + <p> + ‘Well, that happens too! Don’t our fellows get killed sometimes?’ + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0022" id="link2HCH0022"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Chapter XXII + </h2> + <p class="pfirst"> + <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>he Captain and the + head of the village rode away, and Olenin, to please Lukashka as well as + to avoid going back alone through the dark forest, asked the corporal to + give Lukashka leave, and the corporal did so. Olenin thought that Lukashka + wanted to see Maryanka and he was also glad of the companionship of such a + pleasant-looking and sociable Cossack. Lukashka and Maryanka he + involuntarily united in his mind, and he found pleasure in thinking about + them. ‘He loves Maryanka,’ thought Olenin, ‘and I could + love her,’ and a new and powerful emotion of tenderness overcame him + as they walked homewards together through the dark forest. Lukashka too + felt happy; something akin to love made itself felt between these two very + different young men. Every time they glanced at one another they wanted to + laugh. + </p> + <p> + ‘By which gate do you enter?’ asked Olenin. + </p> + <p> + ‘By the middle one. But I’ll see you as far as the marsh. After that + you have nothing to fear.’ + </p> + <p> + Olenin laughed. + </p> + <p> + ‘Do you think I am afraid? Go back, and thank you. I can get on alone.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘It’s all right! What have I to do? And how can you help being + afraid? Even we are afraid,’ said Lukashka to set Olenin’s + self-esteem at rest, and he laughed too. + </p> + <p> + ‘Then come in with me. We’ll have a talk and a drink and in the + morning you can go back.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Couldn’t I find a place to spend the night?’ laughed + Lukashka. ‘But the corporal asked me to go back.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I heard you singing last night, and also saw you.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Every one...’ and Luke swayed his head. + </p> + <p> + ‘Is it true you are getting married?’ asked Olenin. + </p> + <p> + ‘Mother wants me to marry. But I have not got a horse yet.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Aren’t you in the regular service?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh dear no! I’ve only just joined, and have not got a horse yet, + and don’t know how to get one. That’s why the marriage does + not come off.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘And what would a horse cost?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘We were bargaining for one beyond the river the other day and they would + not take sixty rubles for it, though it is a Nogay horse.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Will you come and be my drabant?’ (A drabant was a kind of orderly + attached to an officer when campaigning.) ‘I’ll get it + arranged and will give you a horse,’ said Olenin suddenly. ‘Really + now, I have two and I don’t want both.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘How—don’t want it?’ Lukashka said, laughing. ‘Why + should you make me a present? We’ll get on by ourselves by God’s + help.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘No, really! Or don’t you want to be a drabant?’ said Olenin, + glad that it had entered his head to give a horse to Lukashka, though, + without knowing why, he felt uncomfortable and confused and did not know + what to say when he tried to speak. + </p> + <p> + Lukashka was the first to break the silence. + </p> + <p> + ‘Have you a house of your own in Russia?’ he asked. + </p> + <p> + Olenin could not refrain from replying that he had not only one, but + several houses. + </p> + <p> + ‘A good house? Bigger than ours?’ asked Lukashka good-naturedly. + </p> + <p> + ‘Much bigger; ten times as big and three storeys high,’ replied + Olenin. + </p> + <p> + ‘And have you horses such as ours?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I have a hundred horses, worth three or four hundred rubles each, but + they are not like yours. They are trotters, you know.... But still, I like + the horses here best.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Well, and did you come here of your own free will, or were you sent?’ + said Lukashka, laughing at him. ‘Look! that’s where you lost + your way,’ he added, ‘you should have turned to the right.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I came by my own wish,’ replied Olenin. ‘I wanted to see your + parts and to join some expeditions.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I would go on an expedition any day,’ said Lukashka. ‘D’you + hear the jackals howling?’ he added, listening. + </p> + <p> + ‘I say, don’t you feel any horror at having killed a man?’ + asked Olenin. + </p> + <p> + ‘What’s there to be frightened about? But I should like to join an + expedition,’ Lukashka repeated. ‘How I want to! How I want to!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Perhaps we may be going together. Our company is going before the + holidays, and your “hundred” too.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘And what did you want to come here for? You’ve a house and horses + and serfs. In your place I’d do nothing but make merry! And what is + your rank?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I am a cadet, but have been recommended for a commission.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Well, if you’re not bragging about your home, if I were you I’d + never have left it! Yes, I’d never have gone away anywhere. Do you + find it pleasant living among us?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes, very pleasant,’ answered Olenin. + </p> + <p> + It had grown quite dark before, talking in this way, they approached the + village. They were still surrounded by the deep gloom of the forest. The + wind howled through the tree-tops. The jackals suddenly seemed to be + crying close beside them, howling, chuckling, and sobbing; but ahead of + them in the village the sounds of women’s voices and the barking of + dogs could already be heard; the outlines of the huts were clearly to be + seen; lights gleamed and the air was filled with the peculiar smell of + kisyak smoke. Olenin felt keenly, that night especially, that here in this + village was his home, his family, all his happiness, and that he never had + and never would live so happily anywhere as he did in this Cossack + village. He was so fond of everybody and especially of Lukashka that + night. On reaching home, to Lukashka’s great surprise, Olenin with + his own hands led out of the shed a horse he had bought in Groznoe—it + was not the one he usually rode but another—not a bad horse though + no longer young, and gave it to Lukashka. + </p> + <p> + ‘Why should you give me a present?’ said Lukashka, ‘I have not + yet done anything for you.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Really it is nothing,’ answered Olenin. ‘Take it, and you + will give me a present, and we’ll go on an expedition against the + enemy together.’ + </p> + <p> + Lukashka became confused. + </p> + <p> + ‘But what d’you mean by it? As if a horse were of little value,’ + he said without looking at the horse. + </p> + <p> + ‘Take it, take it! If you don’t you will offend me. Vanyusha! Take + the grey horse to his house.’ + </p> + <p> + Lukashka took hold of the halter. + </p> + <p> + ‘Well then, thank you! This is something unexpected, undreamt of.’ + </p> + <p> + Olenin was as happy as a boy of twelve. + </p> + <p> + ‘Tie it up here. It’s a good horse. I bought it in Groznoe; it + gallops splendidly! Vanyusha, bring us some chikhir. Come into the hut.’ + </p> + <p> + The wine was brought. Lukashka sat down and took the wine-bowl. + </p> + <p> + ‘God willing I’ll find a way to repay you,’ he said, finishing + his wine. ‘How are you called?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Dmitri Andreich.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Well, ‘Mitry Andreich, God bless you. We will be kunaks. Now you + must come to see us. Though we are not rich people still we can treat a + kunak, and I will tell mother in case you need anything—clotted + cream or grapes—and if you come to the cordon I’m your servant + to go hunting or to go across the river, anywhere you like! There now, + only the other day, what a boar I killed, and I divided it among the + Cossacks, but if I had only known, I’d have given it to you.’ + ‘That’s all right, thank you! But don’t harness the + horse, it has never been in harness.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Why harness the horse? And there is something else I’ll tell you if + you like,’ said Lukashka, bending his head. ‘I have a kunak, + Girey Khan. He asked me to lie in ambush by the road where they come down + from the mountains. Shall we go together? I’ll not betray you. I’ll + be your murid.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes, we’ll go; we’ll go some day.’ + </p> + <p> + Lukashka seemed quite to have quieted down and to have understood Olenin’s + attitude towards him. His calmness and the ease of his behaviour surprised + Olenin, and he did not even quite like it. They talked long, and it was + late when Lukashka, not tipsy (he never was tipsy) but having drunk a good + deal, left Olenin after shaking hands. + </p> + <p> + Olenin looked out of the window to see what he would do. Lukashka went + out, hanging his head. Then, having led the horse out of the gate, he + suddenly shook his head, threw the reins of the halter over its head, + sprang onto its back like a cat, gave a wild shout, and galloped down the + street. Olenin expected that Lukishka would go to share his joy with + Maryanka, but though he did not do so Olenin still felt his soul more at + ease than ever before in his life. He was as delighted as a boy, and could + not refrain from telling Vanyusha not only that he had given Lukashka the + horse, but also why he had done it, as well as his new theory of + happiness. Vanyusha did not approve of his theory, and announced that + ‘l’argent il n’y a pas!’ and that therefore it was + all nonsense. + </p> + <p> + Lukashka rode home, jumped off the horse, and handed it over to his + mother, telling her to let it out with the communal Cossack herd. He + himself had to return to the cordon that same night. His deaf sister + undertook to take the horse, and explained by signs that when she saw the + man who had given the horse, she would bow down at his feet. The old woman + only shook her head at her son’s story, and decided in her own mind + that he had stolen it. She therefore told the deaf girl to take it to the + herd before daybreak. + </p> + <p> + Lukashka went back alone to the cordon pondering over Olenin’s + action. Though he did not consider the horse a good one, yet it was worth + at least forty rubles and Lukashka was very glad to have the present. But + why it had been given him he could not at all understand, and therefore he + did not experience the least feeling of gratitude. On the contrary, vague + suspicions that the cadet had some evil intentions filled his mind. What + those intentions were he could not decide, but neither could he admit the + idea that a stranger would give him a horse worth forty rubles for + nothing, just out of kindness; it seemed impossible. Had he been drunk one + might understand it! He might have wished to show off. But the cadet had + been sober, and therefore must have wished to bribe him to do something + wrong. ‘Eh, humbug!’ thought Lukashka. ‘Haven’t I + got the horse and we’ll see later on. I’m not a fool myself + and we shall see who’ll get the better of the other,’ he + thought, feeling the necessity of being on his guard, and therefore + arousing in himself unfriendly feelings towards Olenin. He told no one how + he had got the horse. To some he said he had bought it, to others he + replied evasively. However, the truth soon got about in the village, and + Lukashka’s mother and Maryanka, as well as Elias Vasilich and other + Cossacks, when they heard of Olenin’s unnecessary gift, were + perplexed, and began to be on their guard against the cadet. But despite + their fears his action aroused in them a great respect for his simplicity + and wealth. + </p> + <p> + ‘Have you heard,’ said one, ‘that the cadet quartered on Elias + Vasilich has thrown a fifty-ruble horse at Lukashka? He’s rich! ...’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes, I heard of it,’ replied another profoundly, ‘he must + have done him some great service. We shall see what will come of this + cadet. Eh! what luck that Snatcher has!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Those cadets are crafty, awfully crafty,’ said a third. ‘See + if he don’t go setting fire to a building, or doing something!’ + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0023" id="link2HCH0023"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Chapter XXIII + </h2> + <p class="pfirst"> + <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">O</span>lenin’s life + went on with monotonous regularity. He had little intercourse with the + commanding officers or with his equals. The position of a rich cadet in + the Caucasus was peculiarly advantageous in this respect. He was not sent + out to work, or for training. As a reward for going on an expedition he + was recommended for a commission, and meanwhile he was left in peace. The + officers regarded him as an aristocrat and behaved towards him with + dignity. Cardplaying and the officers’ carousals accompanied by the + soldier-singers, of which he had had experience when he was with the + detachment, did not seem to him attractive, and he also avoided the + society and life of the officers in the village. The life of officers + stationed in a Cossack village has long had its own definite form. Just as + every cadet or officer when in a fort regularly drinks porter, plays + cards, and discusses the rewards given for taking part in the expeditions, + so in the Cossack villages he regularly drinks chikhir with his hosts, + treats the girls to sweet-meats and honey, dangles after the Cossack + women, and falls in love, and occasionally marries there. Olenin always + took his own path and had an unconscious objection to the beaten tracks. + And here, too, he did not follow the ruts of a Caucasian officer’s + life. + </p> + <p> + It came quite naturally to him to wake up at daybreak. After drinking tea + and admiring from his porch the mountains, the morning, and Maryanka, he + would put on a tattered ox-hide coat, sandals of soaked raw hide, buckle + on a dagger, take a gun, put cigarettes and some lunch in a little bag, + call his dog, and soon after five o’clock would start for the forest + beyond the village. Towards seven in the evening he would return tired and + hungry with five or six pheasants hanging from his belt (sometimes with + some other animal) and with his bag of food and cigarettes untouched. If + the thoughts in his head had lain like the lunch and cigarettes in the + bag, one might have seen that during all those fourteen hours not a single + thought had moved in it. He returned morally fresh, strong, and perfectly + happy, and he could not tell what he had been thinking about all the time. + Were they ideas, memories, or dreams that had been flitting through his + mind? They were frequently all three. He would rouse himself and ask what + he had been thinking about; and would see himself as a Cossack working in + a vineyard with his Cossack wife, or an abrek in the mountains, or a boar + running away from himself. And all the time he kept peering and watching + for a pheasant, a boar, or a deer. + </p> + <p> + In the evening Daddy Eroshka would be sure to be sitting with him. + Vanyusha would bring a jug of chikhir, and they would converse quietly, + drink, and separate to go quite contentedly to bed. The next day he would + again go shooting, again be healthily weary, again they would sit + conversing and drink their fill, and again be happy. Sometimes on a + holiday or day of rest Olenin spent the whole day at home. Then his chief + occupation was watching Maryanka, whose every movement, without realizing + it himself, he followed greedily from his window or his porch. He regarded + Maryanka and loved her (so he thought) just as he loved the beauty of the + mountains and the sky, and he had no thought of entering into any + relations with her. It seemed to him that between him and her such + relations as there were between her and the Cossack Lukashka could not + exist, and still less such as often existed between rich officers and + other Cossack girls. It seemed to him that if he tried to do as his fellow + officers did, he would exchange his complete enjoyment of contemplation + for an abyss of suffering, disillusionment, and remorse. Besides, he had + already achieved a triumph of self-sacrifice in connexion with her which + had given him great pleasure, and above all he was in a way afraid of + Maryanka and would not for anything have ventured to utter a word of love + to her lightly. + </p> + <p> + Once during the summer, when Olenin had not gone out shooting but was + sitting at home, quite unexpectedly a Moscow acquaintance, a very young + man whom he had met in society, came in. + </p> + <p> + ‘Ah, mon cher, my dear fellow, how glad I was when I heard that you were + here!’ he began in his Moscow French, and he went on intermingling + French words in his remarks. ‘They said, “Olenin”. What + Olenin? and I was so pleased.... Fancy fate bringing us together here! + Well, and how are you? How? Why?’ and Prince Beletski told his whole + story: how he had temporarily entered the regiment, how the + Commander-in-Chief had offered to take him as an adjutant, and how he + would take up the post after this campaign although personally he felt + quite indifferent about it. + </p> + <p> + ‘Living here in this hole one must at least make a career—get a + cross—or a rank—be transferred to the Guards. That is quite + indispensable, not for myself but for the sake of my relations and + friends. The prince received me very well; he is a very decent fellow,’ + said Beletski, and went on unceasingly. ‘I have been recommended for + the St. Anna Cross for the expedition. Now I shall stay here a bit until + we start on the campaign. It’s capital here. What women! Well, and + how are you getting on? I was told by our captain, Startsev you know, a + kind-hearted stupid creature.... Well, he said you were living like an + awful savage, seeing no one! I quite understand you don’t want to be + mixed up with the set of officers we have here. I am so glad now you and I + will be able to see something of one another. I have put up at the Cossack + corporal’s house. There is such a girl there. Ustenka! I tell you + she’s just charming.’ + </p> + <p> + And more and more French and Russian words came pouring forth from that + world which Olenin thought he had left for ever. The general opinion about + Beletski was that he was a nice, good-natured fellow. Perhaps he really + was; but in spite of his pretty, good-natured face, Olenin thought him + extremely unpleasant. He seemed just to exhale that filthiness which + Olenin had forsworn. What vexed him most was that he could not—had + not the strength—abruptly to repulse this man who came from that + world: as if that old world he used to belong to had an irresistible claim + on him. Olenin felt angry with Beletski and with himself, yet against his + wish he introduced French phrases into his own conversation, was + interested in the Commander-in-Chief and in their Moscow acquaintances, + and because in this Cossack village he and Beletski both spoke French, he + spoke contemptuously of their fellow officers and of the Cossacks, and was + friendly with Beletski, promising to visit him and inviting him to drop in + to see him. Olenin however did not himself go to see Beletski. Vanyusha + for his part approved of Beletski, remarking that he was a real gentleman. + </p> + <p> + Beletski at once adopted the customary life of a rich officer in a Cossack + village. Before Olenin’s eyes, in one month he came to be like an + old resident of the village; he made the old men drunk, arranged evening + parties, and himself went to parties arranged by the girls—bragged + of his conquests, and even got so far that, for some unknown reason, the + women and girls began calling him grandad, and the Cossacks, to whom a man + who loved wine and women was clearly understandable, got used to him and + even liked him better than they did Olenin, who was a puzzle to them. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0024" id="link2HCH0024"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Chapter XXIV + </h2> + <p class="pfirst"> + <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">I</span>t was five in the + morning. Vanyusha was in the porch heating the samovar, and using the leg + of a long boot instead of bellows. Olenin had already ridden off to bathe + in the Terek. (He had recently invented a new amusement: to swim his horse + in the river.) His landlady was in her outhouse, and the dense smoke of + the kindling fire rose from the chimney. The girl was milking the buffalo + cow in the shed. ‘Can’t keep quiet, the damned thing!’ + came her impatient voice, followed by the rhythmical sound of milking. + </p> + <p> + From the street in front of the house horses’ hoofs were heard + clattering briskly, and Olenin, riding bareback on a handsome dark-grey + horse which was still wet and shining, rode up to the gate. Maryanka’s + handsome head, tied round with a red kerchief, appeared from the shed and + again disappeared. Olenin was wearing a red silk shirt, a white Circassian + coat girdled with a strap which carried a dagger, and a tall cap. He sat + his well-fed wet horse with a slightly conscious elegance and, holding his + gun at his back, stooped to open the gate. + </p> + <p> + His hair was still wet, and his face shone with youth and health. He + thought himself handsome, agile, and like a brave; but he was mistaken. To + any experienced Caucasian he was still only a soldier. + </p> + <p> + When he noticed that the girl had put out her head he stooped with + particular smartness, threw open the gate and, tightening the reins, + swished his whip and entered the yard. ‘Is tea ready, Vanyusha?’ + he cried gaily, not looking at the door of the shed. He felt with pleasure + how his fine horse, pressing down its flanks, pulling at the bridle and + with every muscle quivering and with each foot ready to leap over the + fence, pranced on the hard clay of the yard. <i>‘C’est prêt</i>,’ + answered Vanyusha. Olenin felt as if Maryanka’s beautiful head was + still looking out of the shed but he did not turn to look at her. As he + jumped down from his horse he made an awkward movement and caught his gun + against the porch, and turned a frightened look towards the shed, where + there was no one to be seen and whence the sound of milking could still be + heard. + </p> + <p> + Soon after he had entered the hut he came out again and sat down with his + pipe and a book on the side of the porch which was not yet exposed to the + rays of the sun. He meant not to go anywhere before dinner that day, and + to write some long-postponed letters; but somehow he felt disinclined to + leave his place in the porch, and he was as reluctant to go back into the + hut as if it had been a prison. The housewife had heated her oven, and the + girl, having driven the cattle, had come back and was collecting <i>kisyak</i> + and heaping it up along the fence. Olenin went on reading, but did not + understand a word of what was written in the book that lay open before + him. He kept lifting his eyes from it and looking at the powerful young + woman who was moving about. Whether she stepped into the moist morning + shadow thrown by the house, or went out into the middle of the yard lit up + by the joyous young light, so that the whole of her stately figure in its + bright coloured garment gleamed in the sunshine and cast a black shadow—he + always feared to lose any one of her movements. It delighted him to see + how freely and gracefully her figure bent: into what folds her only + garment, a pink smock, draped itself on her bosom and along her shapely + legs; how she drew herself up and her tight-drawn smock showed the outline + of her heaving bosom, how the soles of her narrow feet in her worn red + slippers rested on the ground without altering their shape; how her strong + arms with the sleeves rolled up, exerting the muscles, used the spade + almost as if in anger, and how her deep dark eyes sometimes glanced at + him. Though the delicate brows frowned, yet her eyes expressed pleasure + and a knowledge of her own beauty. + </p> + <p> + ‘I say, Olenin, have you been up long?’ said Beletski as he entered + the yard dressed in the coat of a Caucasian officer. + </p> + <p> + ‘Ah, Beletski,’ replied Olenin, holding out his hand. ‘How is + it you are out so early?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I had to. I was driven out; we are having a ball tonight. Maryanka, of + course you’ll come to Ustenka’s?’ he added, turning to + the girl. + </p> + <p> + Olenin felt surprised that Beletski could address this woman so easily. + But Maryanka, as though she had not heard him, bent her head, and throwing + the spade across her shoulder went with her firm masculine tread towards + the outhouse. + </p> + <p> + ‘She’s shy, the wench is shy,’ Beletski called after her. + ‘Shy of you,’ he added as, smiling gaily, he ran up the steps + of the porch. + </p> + <p> + ‘How is it you are having a ball and have been driven out?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘It’s at Ustenka’s, at my landlady’s, that the ball is, + and you two are invited. A ball consists of a pie and a gathering of + girls.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘What should we do there?’ + </p> + <p> + Beletski smiled knowingly and winked, jerking his head in the direction of + the outhouse into which Maryanka had disappeared. + </p> + <p> + Olenin shrugged his shoulders and blushed. + </p> + <p> + ‘Well, really you are a strange fellow!’ said he. + </p> + <p> + ‘Come now, don’t pretend’ + </p> + <p> + Olenin frowned, and Beletski noticing this smiled insinuatingly. ‘Oh, + come, what do you mean?’ he said, ‘living in the same house—and + such a fine girl, a splendid girl, a perfect beauty.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Wonderfully beautiful! I never saw such a woman before,’ replied + Olenin. + </p> + <p> + ‘Well then?’ said Beletski, quite unable to understand the + situation. + </p> + <p> + ‘It may be strange,’ replied Olenin, ‘but why should I not say + what is true? Since I have lived here women don’t seem to exist for + me. And it is so good, really! Now what can there be in common between us + and women like these? Eroshka—that’s a different matter! He + and I have a passion in common—sport.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘There now! In common! And what have I in common with Amalia Ivanovna? It’s + the same thing! You may say they’re not very clean—that’s + another matter... A la guerre, comme a la guerre! ...’ + </p> + <p> + ‘But I have never known any Amalia Ivanovas, and have never known how to + behave with women of that sort,’ replied Olenin. ‘One cannot + respect them, but these I do respect.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Well go on respecting them! Who wants to prevent you?’ + </p> + <p> + Olenin did not reply. He evidently wanted to complete what he had begun to + say. It was very near his heart. + </p> + <p> + ‘I know I am an exception...’ He was visibly confused. ‘But my + life has so shaped itself that I not only see no necessity to renounce my + rules, but I could not live here, let alone live as happily as I am doing, + were I to live as you do. Therefore I look for something quite different + from what you look for.’ + </p> + <p> + Beletski raised his eyebrows incredulously. ‘Anyhow, come to me this + evening; Maryanka will be there and I will make you acquainted. Do come, + please! If you feel dull you can go away. Will you come?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I would come, but to speak frankly I am afraid of being’ seriously + carried away.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, oh, oh!’ shouted Beletski. ‘Only come, and I’ll see + that you aren’t. Will you? On your word?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I would come, but really I don’t understand what we shall do; what + part we shall play!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Please, I beg of you. You will come?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes, perhaps I’ll come,’ said Olenin. + </p> + <p> + ‘Really now! Charming women such as one sees nowhere else, and to live + like a monk! What an idea! Why spoil your life and not make use of what is + at hand? Have you heard that our company is ordered to Vozdvizhensk?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Hardly. I was told the 8th Company would be sent there,’ said + Olenin. + </p> + <p> + ‘No. I have had a letter from the adjutant there. He writes that the + Prince himself will take part in the campaign. I am very glad I shall see + something of him. I’m beginning to get tired of this place.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I hear we shall start on a raid soon.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I have not heard of it; but I have heard that Krinovitsin has received + the Order of St. Anna for a raid. He expected a lieutenancy,’ said + Beletski laughing. ‘He was let in! He has set off for headquarters.’ + </p> + <p> + It was growing dusk and Olenin began thinking about the party. The + invitation he had received worried him. He felt inclined to go, but what + might take place there seemed strange, absurd, and even rather alarming. + He knew that neither Cossack men nor older women, nor anyone besides the + girls, were to be there. What was going to happen? How was he to behave? + What would they talk about? What connexion was there between him and those + wild Cossack girls? Beletski had told him of such curious, cynical, and + yet rigid relations. It seemed strange to think that he would be there in + the same hut with Maryanka and perhaps might have to talk to her. It + seemed to him impossible when he remembered her majestic bearing. But + Beletski spoke of it as if it were all perfectly simple. ‘Is it + possible that Beletski will treat Maryanka in the same way? That is + interesting,’ thought he. ‘No, better not go. It’s all + so horrid, so vulgar, and above all—it leads to nothing!’ But + again he was worried by the question of what would take place; and besides + he felt as if bound by a promise. He went out without having made up his + mind one way or the other, but he walked as far as Beletski’s, and + went in there. + </p> + <p> + The hut in which Beletski lived was like Olenin’s. It was raised + nearly five feet from the ground on wooden piles, and had two rooms. In + the first (which Olenin entered by the steep flight of steps) feather + beds, rugs, blankets, and cushions were tastefully and handsomely + arranged, Cossack fashion, along the main wall. On the side wall hung + brass basins and weapons, while on the floor, under a bench, lay + watermelons and pumpkins. In the second room there was a big brick oven, a + table, and sectarian icons. It was here that Beletski was quartered, with + his camp-bed and his pack and trunks. His weapons hung on the wall with a + little rug behind them, and on the table were his toilet appliances and + some portraits. A silk dressing-gown had been thrown on the bench. + Beletski himself, clean and good-looking, lay on the bed in his + underclothing, reading Les Trois Mousquetaires. + </p> + <p> + He jumped up. + </p> + <p> + ‘There, you see how I have arranged things. Fine! Well, it’s good + that you have come. They are working furiously. Do you know what the pie + is made of? Dough with a stuffing of pork and grapes. But that’s not + the point. You just look at the commotion out there!’ + </p> + <p> + And really, on looking out of the window they saw an unusual bustle going + on in the hut. Girls ran in and out, now for one thing and now for + another. + </p> + <p> + ‘Will it soon be ready?’ cried Beletski. + </p> + <p> + ‘Very soon! Why? Is Grandad hungry?’ and from the hut came the sound + of ringing laughter. + </p> + <p> + Ustenka, plump, small, rosy, and pretty, with her sleeves turned up, ran + into Beletski’s hut to fetch some plates. + </p> + <p> + ‘Get away or I shall smash the plates!’ she squeaked, escaping from + Beletski. ‘You’d better come and help,’ she shouted to + Olenin, laughing. ‘And don’t forget to get some refreshments + for the girls.’ (‘Refreshments’ meaning spicebread and + sweets.) + </p> + <p> + ‘And has Maryanka come?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Of course! She brought some dough.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Do you know,’ said Beletski, ‘if one were to dress Ustenka up + and clean and polish her up a bit, she’d be better than all our + beauties. Have you ever seen that Cossack woman who married a colonel; she + was charming! Borsheva? What dignity! Where do they get it...’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I have not seen Borsheva, but I think nothing could be better than the + costume they wear here.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Ah, I’m first-rate at fitting into any kind of life,’ said + Beletski with a sigh of pleasure. ‘I’ll go and see what they + are up to.’ + </p> + <p> + He threw his dressing-gown over his shoulders and ran out, shouting, ‘And + you look after the “refreshments”.’ + </p> + <p> + Olenin sent Beletski’s orderly to buy spice-bread and honey; but it + suddenly seemed to him so disgusting to give money (as if he were bribing + someone) that he gave no definite reply to the orderly’s question: + ‘How much spice-bread with peppermint, and how much with honey?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Just as you please.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Shall I spend all the money,’ asked the old soldier impressively. + ‘The peppermint is dearer. It’s sixteen kopeks.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes, yes, spend it all,’ answered Olenin and sat down by the + window, surprised that his heart was thumping as if he were preparing + himself for something serious and wicked. + </p> + <p> + He heard screaming and shrieking in the girls’ hut when Beletski + went there, and a few moments later saw how he jumped out and ran down the + steps, accompanied by shrieks, bustle, and laughter. + </p> + <p> + ‘Turned out,’ he said. + </p> + <p> + A little later Ustenka entered and solemnly invited her visitors to come + in: announcing that all was ready. + </p> + <p> + When they came into the room they saw that everything was really ready. + Ustenka was rearranging the cushions along the wall. On the table, which + was covered by a disproportionately small cloth, was a decanter of chikhir + and some dried fish. The room smelt of dough and grapes. Some half dozen + girls in smart tunics, with their heads not covered as usual with + kerchiefs, were huddled together in a corner behind the oven, whispering, + giggling, and spluttering with laughter. + </p> + <p> + ‘I humbly beg you to do honour to my patron saint,’ said Ustenka, + inviting her guests to the table. + </p> + <p> + Olenin noticed Maryanka among the group of girls, who without exception + were all handsome, and he felt vexed and hurt that he met her in such + vulgar and awkward circumstances. He felt stupid and awkward, and made up + his mind to do what Beletski did. Beletski stepped to the table somewhat + solemnly yet with confidence and ease, drank a glass of wine to Ustenka’s + health, and invited the others to do the same. Ustenka announced that + girls don’t drink. ‘We might with a little honey,’ + exclaimed a voice from among the group of girls. The orderly, who had just + returned with the honey and spice-cakes, was called in. He looked askance + (whether with envy or with contempt) at the gentlemen, who in his opinion + were on the spree; and carefully and conscientiously handed over to them a + piece of honeycomb and the cakes wrapped up in a piece of greyish paper, + and began explaining circumstantially all about the price and the change, + but Beletski sent him away. Having mixed honey with wine in the glasses, + and having lavishly scattered the three pounds of spice-cakes on the + table, Beletski dragged the girls from their corners by force, made them + sit down at the table, and began distributing the cakes among them. Olenin + involuntarily noticed how Maryanka’s sunburnt but small hand closed + on two round peppermint nuts and one brown one, and that she did not know + what to do with them. The conversation was halting and constrained, in + spite of Ustenka’s and Beletski’s free and easy manner and + their wish to enliven the company. Olenin faltered, and tried to think of + something to say, feeling that he was exciting curiosity and perhaps + provoking ridicule and infecting the others with his shyness. He blushed, + and it seemed to him that Maryanka in particular was feeling + uncomfortable. ‘Most likely they are expecting us to give them some + money,’ thought he. ‘How are we to do it? And how can we + manage quickest to give it and get away?’ + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0025" id="link2HCH0025"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Chapter XXV + </h2> + <p> + |'How is it you don’t know your own lodger?’ said Beletski, + addressing Maryanka. + </p> + <p> + ‘How is one to know him if he never comes to see us?’ answered + Maryanka, with a look at Olenin. + </p> + <p> + Olenin felt frightened, he did not know of what. He flushed and, hardly + knowing what he was saying, remarked: ‘I’m afraid of your + mother. She gave me such a scolding the first time I went in.’ + </p> + <p> + Maryanka burst out laughing. ‘And so you were frightened?’ she + said, and glanced at him and turned away. + </p> + <p> + It was the first time Olenin had seen the whole of her beautiful face. + Till then he had seen her with her kerchief covering her to the eyes. It + was not for nothing that she was reckoned the beauty of the village. + Ustenka was a pretty girl, small, plump, rosy, with merry brown eyes, and + red lips which were perpetually smiling and chattering. Maryanka on the + contrary was certainly not pretty but beautiful. Her features might have + been considered too masculine and almost harsh had it not been for her + tall stately figure, her powerful chest and shoulders, and especially the + severe yet tender expression of her long dark eyes which were darkly + shadowed beneath their black brows, and for the gentle expression of her + mouth and smile. She rarely smiled, but her smile was always striking. She + seemed to radiate virginal strength and health. All the girls were + good-looking, but they themselves and Beletski, and the orderly when he + brought in the spice-cakes, all involuntarily gazed at Maryanka, and + anyone addressing the girls was sure to address her. She seemed a proud + and happy queen among them. + </p> + <p> + Beletski, trying to keep up the spirit of the party, chattered + incessantly, made the girls hand round chikhir, fooled about with them, + and kept making improper remarks in French about Maryanka’s beauty + to Olenin, calling her ‘yours’ (la votre), and advising him to + behave as he did himself. Olenin felt more and more uncomfortable. He was + devising an excuse to get out and run away when Beletski announced that + Ustenka, whose saint’s day it was, must offer chikhir to everybody + with a kiss. She consented on condition that they should put money on her + plate, as is the custom at weddings. + </p> + <p> + ‘What fiend brought me to this disgusting feast?’ thought Olenin, + rising to go away. + </p> + <p> + ‘Where are you off to?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I’ll fetch some tobacco,’ he said, meaning to escape, but + Beletski seized his hand. + </p> + <p> + ‘I have some money,’ he said to him in French. + </p> + <p> + ‘One can’t go away, one has to pay here,’ thought Olenin + bitterly, vexed at his own awkwardness. ‘Can’t I really behave + like Beletski? I ought not to have come, but once I am here I must not + spoil their fun. I must drink like a Cossack,’ and taking the wooden + bowl (holding about eight tumblers) he almost filled it with chikhir and + drank it almost all. The girls looked at him, surprised and almost + frightened, as he drank. It seemed to them strange and not right. Ustenka + brought them another glass each, and kissed them both. ‘There girls, + now we’ll have some fun,’ she said, clinking on the plate the + four rubles the men had put there. + </p> + <p> + Olenin no longer felt awkward, but became talkative. + </p> + <p> + ‘Now, Maryanka, it’s your turn to offer us wine and a kiss,’ + said Beletski, seizing her hand. + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes, I’ll give you such a kiss!’ she said playfully, + preparing to strike at him. + </p> + <p> + ‘One can kiss Grandad without payment,’ said another girl. + </p> + <p> + ‘There’s a sensible girl,’ said Beletski, kissing the + struggling girl. ‘No, you must offer it,’ he insisted, addressing + Maryanka. ‘Offer a glass to your lodger.’ + </p> + <p> + And taking her by the hand he led her to the bench and sat her down beside + Olenin. + </p> + <p> + ‘What a beauty,’ he said, turning her head to see it in profile. + </p> + <p> + Maryanka did not resist but proudly smiling turned her long eyes towards + Olenin. + </p> + <p> + ‘A beautiful girl,’ repeated Beletski. + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes, see what a beauty I am,’ Maryanka’s look seemed to + endorse. Without considering what he was doing Olenin embraced Maryanka + and was going to kiss her, but she suddenly extricated herself, upsetting + Beletski and pushing the top off the table, and sprang away towards the + oven. There was much shouting and laughter. Then Beletski whispered + something to the girls and suddenly they all ran out into the passage and + locked the door behind them. + </p> + <p> + ‘Why did you kiss Beletski and won’t kiss me?’ asked Olenin. + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, just so. I don’t want to, that’s all!’ she + answered, pouting and frowning. ‘He’s Grandad,’ she + added with a smile. She went to the door and began to bang at it. ‘Why + have you locked the door, you devils?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Well, let them be there and us here,’ said Olenin, drawing closer + to her. + </p> + <p> + She frowned, and sternly pushed him away with her hand. And again she + appeared so majestically handsome to Olenin that he came to his senses and + felt ashamed of what he was doing. He went to the door and began pulling + at it himself. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + ‘Beletski! Open the door! What a stupid joke!’ +</pre> + <p> + Maryanka again gave a bright happy laugh. ‘Ah, you’re afraid + of me?’ she said. + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes, you know you’re as cross as your mother.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Spend more of your time with Eroshka; that will make the girls love you!’ + And she smiled, looking straight and close into his eyes. + </p> + <p> + He did not know what to reply. ‘And if I were to come to see you—’ + he let fall. + </p> + <p> + ‘That would be a different matter,’ she replied, tossing her head. + </p> + <p> + At that moment Beletski pushed the door open, and Maryanka sprang away + from Olenin and in doing so her thigh struck his leg. + </p> + <p> + ‘It’s all nonsense what I have been thinking about—love and + self-sacrifice and Lukashka. Happiness is the one thing. He who is happy + is right,’ flashed through Olenin’s mind, and with a strength + unexpected to himself he seized and kissed the beautiful Maryanka on her + temple and her cheek. Maryanka was not angry, but only burst into a loud + laugh and ran out to the other girls. + </p> + <p> + That was the end of the party. Ustenka’s mother, returned from her + work, gave all the girls a scolding, and turned them all out. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0026" id="link2HCH0026"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Chapter XXVI + </h2> + <p> + |'Yes,’ thought Olenin, as he walked home. ‘I need only + slacken the reins a bit and I might fall desperately in love with this + Cossack girl.’ He went to bed with these thoughts, but expected it + all to blow over and that he would continue to live as before. + </p> + <p> + But the old life did not return. His relations to Maryanka were changed. + The wall that had separated them was broken down. Olenin now greeted her + every time they met. + </p> + <p> + The master of the house having returned to collect the rent, on hearing of + Olenin’s wealth and generosity invited him to his hut. The old woman + received him kindly, and from the day of the party onwards Olenin often + went in of an evening and sat with them till late at night. He seemed to + be living in the village just as he used to, but within him everything had + changed. He spent his days in the forest, and towards eight o’clock, + when it began to grow dusk, he would go to see his hosts, alone or with + Daddy Eroshka. They grew so used to him that they were surprised when he + stayed away. He paid well for his wine and was a quiet fellow. Vanyusha + would bring him his tea and he would sit down in a corner near the oven. + The old woman did not mind him but went on with her work, and over their + tea or their chikhir they talked about Cossack affairs, about the + neighbours, or about Russia: Olenin relating and the others inquiring. + Sometimes he brought a book and read to himself. Maryanka crouched like a + wild goat with her feet drawn up under her, sometimes on the top of the + oven, sometimes in a dark corner. She did not take part in the + conversations, but Olenin saw her eyes and face and heard her moving or + cracking sunflower seeds, and he felt that she listened with her whole + being when he spoke, and was aware of his presence while he silently read + to himself. Sometimes he thought her eyes were fixed on him, and meeting + their radiance he involuntarily became silent and gazed at her. Then she + would instantly hide her face and he would pretend to be deep in + conversation with the old woman, while he listened all the time to her + breathing and to her every movement and waited for her to look at him + again. In the presence of others she was generally bright and friendly + with him, but when they were alone together she was shy and rough. + Sometimes he came in before Maryanka had returned home. Suddenly he would + hear her firm footsteps and catch a glimmer of her blue cotton smock at + the open door. Then she would step into the middle of the hut, catch sight + of him, and her eyes would give a scarcely perceptible kindly smile, and + he would feel happy and frightened. + </p> + <p> + He neither sought for nor wished for anything from her, but every day her + presence became more and more necessary to him. + </p> + <p> + Olenin had entered into the life of the Cossack village so fully that his + past seemed quite foreign to him. As to the future, especially a future + outside the world in which he was now living, it did not interest him at + all. When he received letters from home, from relatives and friends, he + was offended by the evident distress with which they regarded him as a + lost man, while he in his village considered those as lost who did not + live as he was living. He felt sure he would never repent of having broken + away from his former surroundings and of having settled down in this + village to such a solitary and original life. When out on expeditions, and + when quartered at one of the forts, he felt happy too; but it was here, + from under Daddy Eroshka’s wing, from the forest and from his hut at + the end of the village, and especially when he thought of Maryanka and + Lukashka, that he seemed to see the falseness of his former life. That + falseness used to rouse his indignation even before, but now it seemed + inexpressibly vile and ridiculous. Here he felt freer and freer every day + and more and more of a man. The Caucasus now appeared entirely different + to what his imagination had painted it. He had found nothing at all like + his dreams, nor like the descriptions of the Caucasus he had heard and + read. ‘There are none of all those chestnut steeds, precipices, + Amalet Beks, heroes or villains,’ thought he. ‘The people live + as nature lives: they die, are born, unite, and more are born—they + fight, eat and drink, rejoice and die, without any restrictions but those + that nature imposes on sun and grass, on animal and tree. They have no + other laws.’ Therefore these people, compared to himself, appeared + to him beautiful, strong, and free, and the sight of them made him feel + ashamed and sorry for himself. Often it seriously occurred to him to throw + up everything, to get registered as a Cossack, to buy a hut and cattle and + marry a Cossack woman (only not Maryanka, whom he conceded to Lukashka), + and to live with Daddy Eroshka and go shooting and fishing with him, and + go with the Cossacks on their expeditions. ‘Why ever don’t I + do it? What am I waiting for?’ he asked himself, and he egged + himself on and shamed himself. ‘Am I afraid of doing what I hold to + be reasonable and right? Is the wish to be a simple Cossack, to live close + to nature, not to injure anyone but even to do good to others, more stupid + than my former dreams, such as those of becoming a minister of state or a + colonel?’ but a voice seemed to say that he should wait, and not + take any decision. He was held back by a dim consciousness that he could + not live altogether like Eroshka and Lukashka because he had a different + idea of happiness—he was held back by the thought that happiness + lies in self-sacrifice. What he had done for Lukashka continued to give + him joy. He kept looking for occasions to sacrifice himself for others, + but did not meet with them. Sometimes he forgot this newly discovered + recipe for happiness and considered himself capable of identifying his + life with Daddy Eroshka’s, but then he quickly bethought himself and + promptly clutched at the idea of conscious self-sacrifice, and from that + basis looked calmly and proudly at all men and at their happiness. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0027" id="link2HCH0027"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Chapter XXVII + </h2> + <p class="pfirst"> + <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">J</span>ust before the + vintage Lukashka came on horseback to see Olenin. He looked more dashing + than ever. ‘Well? Are you getting married?’ asked Olenin, + greeting him merrily. + </p> + <p> + Lukashka gave no direct reply. + </p> + <p> + ‘There, I’ve exchanged your horse across the river. This is a horse! + A Kabarda horse from the Lov stud. I know horses.’ + </p> + <p> + They examined the new horse and made him caracole about the yard. The + horse really was an exceptionally fine one, a broad and long gelding, with + glossy coat, thick silky tail, and the soft fine mane and crest of a + thoroughbred. He was so well fed that ‘you might go to sleep on his + back’ as Lukashka expressed it. His hoofs, eyes, teeth, were + exquisitely shaped and sharply outlined, as one only finds them in very + pure-bred horses. Olenin could not help admiring the horse, he had not yet + met with such a beauty in the Caucasus. + </p> + <p> + ‘And how it goes!’ said Lukashka, patting its neck. ‘What a + step! And so clever—he simply runs after his master.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Did you have to add much to make the exchange?’ asked Olenin. + </p> + <p> + ‘I did not count it,’ answered Lukashka with a smile. ‘I got + him from a kunak.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘A wonderfully beautiful horse! What would you take for it?’ asked + Olenin. + </p> + <p> + ‘I have been offered a hundred and fifty rubles for it, but I’ll + give it you for nothing,’ said Lukashka, merrily. ‘Only say + the word and it’s yours. I’ll unsaddle it and you may take it. + Only give me some sort of a horse for my duties.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘No, on no account.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Well then, here is a dagger I’ve brought you,’ said Lukashka, + unfastening his girdle and taking out one of the two daggers which hung + from it. ‘I got it from across the river.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, thank you!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘And mother has promised to bring you some grapes herself.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘That’s quite unnecessary. We’ll balance up some day. You see + I don’t offer you any money for the dagger!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘How could you? We are kunaks. It’s just the same as when Girey Khan + across the river took me into his home and said, + </p> + <p> + “Choose what you like!” So I took this sword. It’s our + custom.’ + </p> + <p> + They went into the hut and had a drink. + </p> + <p> + ‘Are you staying here awhile?’ asked Olenin. + </p> + <p> + ‘No, I have come to say good-bye. They are sending me from the cordon to a + company beyond the Terek. I am going to-night with my comrade Nazarka.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘And when is the wedding to be?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I shall be coming back for the betrothal, and then I shall return to the + company again,’ Lukashka replied reluctantly. + </p> + <p> + ‘What, and see nothing of your betrothed?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Just so—what is the good of looking at her? When you go on campaign + ask in our company for Lukashka the Broad. But what a lot of boars there + are in our parts! I’ve killed two. I’ll take you.’ + ‘Well, good-bye! Christ save you.’ + </p> + <p> + Lukashka mounted his horse, and without calling on Maryanka, rode + caracoling down the street, where Nazarka was already awaiting him. + </p> + <p> + ‘I say, shan’t we call round?’ asked Nazarka, winking in the + direction of Yamka’s house. + </p> + <p> + ‘That’s a good one!’ said Lukashka. ‘Here, take my horse + to her and if I don’t come soon give him some hay. I shall reach the + company by the morning anyway.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Hasn’t the cadet given you anything more?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I am thankful to have paid him back with a dagger—he was going to + ask for the horse,’ said Lukashka, dismounting and handing over the + horse to Nazarka. + </p> + <p> + He darted into the yard past Olenin’s very window, and came up to + the window of the cornet’s hut. It was already quite dark. Maryanka, + wearing only her smock, was combing her hair preparing for bed. + </p> + <p> + ‘It’s I—’ whispered the Cossack. + </p> + <p> + Maryanka’s look was severely indifferent, but her face suddenly + brightened up when she heard her name. She opened the window and leant + out, frightened and joyous. + </p> + <p> + ‘What—what do you want?’ she said. + </p> + <p> + ‘Open!’ uttered Lukashka. ‘Let me in for a minute. I am so + sick of waiting! It’s awful!’ + </p> + <p> + He took hold of her head through the window and kissed her. + </p> + <p> + ‘Really, do open!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Why do you talk nonsense? I’ve told you I won’t! Have you + come for long?’ + </p> + <p> + He did not answer but went on kissing her, and she did not ask again. + </p> + <p> + ‘There, through the window one can’t even hug you properly,’ + said Lukashka. + </p> + <p> + ‘Maryanka dear!’ came the voice of her mother, ‘who is that + with you?’ + </p> + <p> + Lukashka took off his cap, which might have been seen, and crouched down + by the window. + </p> + <p> + ‘Go, be quick!’ whispered Maryanka. + </p> + <p> + ‘Lukashka called round,’ she answered; ‘he was asking for + Daddy.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Well then send him here!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘He’s gone; said he was in a hurry.’ + </p> + <p> + In fact, Lukashka, stooping, as with big strides he passed under the + windows, ran out through the yard and towards Yamka’s house unseen + by anyone but Olenin. After drinking two bowls of chikhir he and Nazarka + rode away to the outpost. The night was warm, dark, and calm. They rode in + silence, only the footfall of their horses was heard. Lukashka started a + song about the Cossack, Mingal, but stopped before he had finished the + first verse, and after a pause, turning to Nazarka, said: + </p> + <p> + ‘I say, she wouldn’t let me in!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh?’ rejoined Nazarka. ‘I knew she wouldn’t. D’you + know what Yamka told me? The cadet has begun going to their house. Daddy + Eroshka brags that he got a gun from the cadet for getting him Maryanka.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘He lies, the old devil!’ said Lukashka, angrily. ‘She’s + not such a girl. If he does not look out I’ll wallop that old devil’s + sides,’ and he began his favourite song: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +‘From the village of Izmaylov, + From the master’s favourite garden, + Once escaped a keen-eyed falcon. + Soon after him a huntsman came a-riding, + And he beckoned to the falcon that had strayed, + But the bright-eyed bird thus answered: + “In gold cage you could not keep me, + On your hand you could not hold me, + So now I fly to blue seas far away. + There a white swan I will kill, + Of sweet swan-flesh have my fill.”’ +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0028" id="link2HCH0028"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Chapter XXVIII + </h2> + <p class="pfirst"> + <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>he bethrothal was + taking place in the cornet’s hut. Lukashka had returned to the + village, but had not been to see Olenin, and Olenin had not gone to the + betrothal though he had been invited. He was sad as he had never been + since he settled in this Cossack village. He had seen Lukashka earlier in + the evening and was worried by the question why Lukashka was so cold + towards him. Olenin shut himself up in his hut and began writing in his + diary as follows: + </p> + <p> + ‘Many things have I pondered over lately and much have I changed,’ + wrote he, ‘and I have come back to the copybook maxim: The one way + to be happy is to love, to love self-denyingly, to love everybody and + everything; to spread a web of love on all sides and to take all who come + into it. In this way I caught Vanyusha, Daddy Eroshka, Lukashka, and + Maryanka.’ + </p> + <p> + As Olenin was finishing this sentence Daddy Eroshka entered the room. + </p> + <p> + Eroshka was in the happiest frame of mind. A few evenings before this, + Olenin had gone to see him and had found him with a proud and happy face + deftly skinning the carcass of a boar with a small knife in the yard. The + dogs (Lyam his pet among them) were lying close by watching what he was + doing and gently wagging their tails. The little boys were respectfully + looking at him through the fence and not even teasing him as was their + wont. His women neighbours, who were as a rule not too gracious towards + him, greeted him and brought him, one a jug of chikhir, another some + clotted cream, and a third a little flour. The next day Eroshka sat in his + store-room all covered with blood, and distributed pounds of boar-flesh, + taking in payment money from some and wine from others. His face clearly + expressed, ‘God has sent me luck. I have killed a boar, so now I am + wanted.’ Consequently, he naturally began to drink, and had gone on + for four days never leaving the village. Besides which he had had + something to drink at the betrothal. + </p> + <p> + He came to Olenin quite drunk: his face red, his beard tangled, but + wearing a new beshmet trimmed with gold braid; and he brought with him a + balalayka which he had obtained beyond the river. He had long promised + Olenin this treat, and felt in the mood for it, so that he was sorry to + find Olenin writing. + </p> + <p> + ‘Write on, write on, my lad,’ he whispered, as if he thought that a + spirit sat between him and the paper and must not be frightened away, and + he softly and silently sat down on the floor. When Daddy Eroshka was drunk + his favourite position was on the floor. Olenin looked round, ordered some + wine to be brought, and continued to write. Eroshka found it dull to drink + by himself and he wished to talk. + </p> + <p> + ‘I’ve been to the betrothal at the cornet’s. But there! They’re + shwine!—Don’t want them!—Have come to you.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘And where did you get your balalayka asked Olenin, still writing. + </p> + <p> + ‘I’ve been beyond the river and got it there, brother mine,’ + he answered, also very quietly. ‘I’m a master at it. Tartar or + Cossack, squire or soldiers’ songs, any kind you please.’ + </p> + <p> + Olenin looked at him again, smiled, and went on writing. + </p> + <p> + That smile emboldened the old man. + </p> + <p> + ‘Come, leave off, my lad, leave off!’ he said with sudden firmness. + </p> + <p> + ‘Well, perhaps I will.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Come, people have injured you but leave them alone, spit at them! Come, + what’s the use of writing and writing, what’s the good?’ + </p> + <p> + And he tried to mimic Olenin by tapping the floor with his thick fingers, + and then twisted his big face to express contempt. + </p> + <p> + ‘What’s the good of writing quibbles. Better have a spree and show + you’re a man!’ + </p> + <p> + No other conception of writing found place in his head except that of + legal chicanery. + </p> + <p> + Olenin burst out laughing and so did Eroshka. Then, jumping up from the + floor, the latter began to show off his skill on the balalayka and to sing + Tartar songs. + </p> + <p> + ‘Why write, my good fellow! You’d better listen to what I’ll + sing to you. When you’re dead you won’t hear any more songs. + Make merry now!’ + </p> + <p> + First he sang a song of his own composing accompanied by a dance: + </p> + <p> + ‘Ah, dee, dee, dee, dee, dee, dim, Say where did they last see him? In a + booth, at the fair, He was selling pins, there.’ + </p> + <p> + Then he sang a song he had learnt from his former sergeant-major: + </p> + <p> + ‘Deep I fell in love on Monday, Tuesday nothing did but sigh, Wednesday I + popped the question, Thursday waited her reply. Friday, late, it came at + last, Then all hope for me was past! Saturday my life to take I determined + like a man, But for my salvation’s sake Sunday morning changed my + plan!’ + </p> + <p> + Then he sang again: + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh dee, dee, dee, dee, dee, dim, Say where did they last see him?’ + </p> + <p> + And after that, winking, twitching his shoulders, and footing it to the + tune, he sang: + </p> + <p> + ‘I will kiss you and embrace, Ribbons red twine round you; And I’ll + call you little Grace. Oh, you little Grace now do Tell me, do you love me + true?’ + </p> + <p> + And he became so excited that with a sudden dashing movement he started + dancing around the room accompanying himself the while. + </p> + <p> + Songs like ‘Dee, dee, dee’—‘gentlemen’s + songs’—he sang for Olenin’s benefit, but after drinking + three more tumblers of chikhir he remembered old times and began singing + real Cossack and Tartar songs. In the midst of one of his favourite songs + his voice suddenly trembled and he ceased singing, and only continued + strumming on the balalayka. + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, my dear friend!’ he said. + </p> + <p> + The peculiar sound of his voice made Olenin look round. + </p> + <p> + The old man was weeping. Tears stood in his eyes and one tear was running + down his cheek. + </p> + <p> + ‘You are gone, my young days, and will never come back!’ he said, + blubbering and halting. ‘Drink, why don’t you drink!’ he + suddenly shouted with a deafening roar, without wiping away his tears. + </p> + <p> + There was one Tartar song that specially moved him. It had few words, but + its charm lay in the sad refrain. ‘Ay day, dalalay!’ Eroshka + translated the words of the song: ‘A youth drove his sheep from the + aoul to the mountains: the Russians came and burnt the aoul, they killed + all the men and took all the women into bondage. The youth returned from + the mountains. Where the aoul had stood was an empty space; his mother not + there, nor his brothers, nor his house; one tree alone was left standing. + The youth sat beneath the tree and wept. “Alone like thee, alone am + I left,’” and Eroshka began singing: ‘Ay day, dalalay!’ + and the old man repeated several times this wailing, heart-rending + refrain. + </p> + <p> + When he had finished the refrain Eroshka suddenly seized a gun that hung + on the wall, rushed hurriedly out into the yard and fired off both barrels + into the air. Then again he began, more dolefully, his ‘Ay day, + dalalay—ah, ah,’ and ceased. + </p> + <p> + Olenin followed him into the porch and looked up into the starry sky in + the direction where the shots had flashed. In the cornet’s house + there were lights and the sound of voices. In the yard girls were crowding + round the porch and the windows, and running backwards and forwards + between the hut and the outhouse. Some Cossacks rushed out of the hut and + could not refrain from shouting, re-echoing the refrain of Daddy Eroshka’s + song and his shots. + </p> + <p> + ‘Why are you not at the betrothal?’ asked Olenin. + </p> + <p> + ‘Never mind them! Never mind them!’ muttered the old man, who had + evidently been offended by something there. ‘Don’t like them, + I don’t. Oh, those people! Come back into the hut! Let them make + merry by themselves and we’ll make merry by ourselves.’ + </p> + <p> + Olenin went in. + </p> + <p> + ‘And Lukashka, is he happy? Won’t he come to see me?’ he + asked. + </p> + <p> + ‘What, Lukashka? They’ve lied to him and said I am getting his girl + for you,’ whispered the old man. ‘But what’s the girl? + She will be ours if we want her. Give enough money—and she’s + ours. I’ll fix it up for you. Really!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘No, Daddy, money can do nothing if she does not love me. You’d + better not talk like that!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘We are not loved, you and I. We are forlorn,’ said Daddy Eroshka + suddenly, and again he began to cry. + </p> + <p> + Listening to the old man’s talk Olenin had drunk more than usual. + ‘So now my Lukashka is happy,’ thought he; yet he felt sad. + The old man had drunk so much that evening that he fell down on the floor + and Vanyusha had to call soldiers in to help, and spat as they dragged the + old man out. He was so angry with the old man for his bad behaviour that + he did not even say a single French word. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0029" id="link2HCH0029"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Chapter XXIX + </h2> + <p class="pfirst"> + <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">I</span>t was August. For + days the sky had been cloudless, the sun scorched unbearably and from + early morning the warm wind raised a whirl of hot sand from the + sand-drifts and from the road, and bore it in the air through the reeds, + the trees, and the village. The grass and the leaves on the trees were + covered with dust, the roads and dried-up salt marshes were baked so hard + that they rang when trodden on. The water had long since subsided in the + Terek and rapidly vanished and dried up in the ditches. The slimy banks of + the pond near the village were trodden bare by the cattle and all day long + you could hear the splashing of water and the shouting of girls and boys + bathing. The sand-drifts and the reeds were already drying up in the + steppes, and the cattle, lowing, ran into the fields in the day-time. The + boars migrated into the distant reed-beds and to the hills beyond the + Terek. Mosquitoes and gnats swarmed in thick clouds over the low lands and + villages. The snow-peaks were hidden in grey mist. The air was rarefied + and smoky. It was said that abreks had crossed the now shallow river and + were prowling on this side of it. Every night the sun set in a glowing red + blaze. It was the busiest time of the year. The villagers all swarmed in + the melon-fields and the vineyards. The vineyards thickly overgrown with + twining verdure lay in cool, deep shade. Everywhere between the broad + translucent leaves, ripe, heavy, black clusters peeped out. Along the + dusty road from the vineyards the creaking carts moved slowly, heaped up + with black grapes. Clusters of them, crushed by the wheels, lay in the + dirt. Boys and girls in smocks stained with grape-juice, with grapes in + their hands and mouths, ran after their mothers. On the road you + continually came across tattered labourers with baskets of grapes on their + powerful shoulders; Cossack maidens, veiled with kerchiefs to their eyes, + drove bullocks harnessed to carts laden high with grapes. Soldiers who + happened to meet these carts asked for grapes, and the maidens, clambering + up without stopping their carts, would take an armful of grapes and drop + them into the skirts of the soldiers’ coats. In some homesteads they + had already begun pressing the grapes; and the smell of the emptied skins + filled the air. One saw the blood-red troughs in the pent-houses in the + yards and Nogay labourers with their trousers rolled up and their legs + stained with the juice. Grunting pigs gorged themselves with the empty + skins and rolled about in them. The flat roofs of the outhouses were all + spread over with the dark amber clusters drying in the sun. Daws and + magpies crowded round the roofs, picking the seeds and fluttering from one + place to another. + </p> + <p> + The fruits of the year’s labour were being merrily gathered in, and + this year the fruit was unusually fine and plentiful. + </p> + <p> + In the shady green vineyards amid a sea of vines, laughter, songs, + merriment, and the voices of women were to be heard on all sides, and + glimpses of their bright-coloured garments could be seen. + </p> + <p> + Just at noon Maryanka was sitting in their vineyard in the shade of a + peach-tree, getting out the family dinner from under an unharnessed cart. + Opposite her, on a spread-out horse-cloth, sat the cornet (who had + returned from the school) washing his hands by pouring water on them from + a little jug. Her little brother, who had just come straight out of the + pond, stood wiping his face with his wide sleeves, and gazed anxiously at + his sister and his mother and breathed deeply, awaiting his dinner. The + old mother, with her sleeves rolled up over her strong sunburnt arms, was + arranging grapes, dried fish, and clotted cream on a little low, circular + Tartar table. The cornet wiped his hands, took off his cap, crossed + himself, and moved nearer to the table. The boy seized the jug and eagerly + began to drink. The mother and daughter crossed their legs under them and + sat down by the table. Even in the shade it was intolerably hot. The air + above the vineyard smelt unpleasant: the strong warm wind passing amid the + branches brought no coolness, but only monotonously bent the tops of the + pear, peach, and mulberry trees with which the vineyard was sprinkled. The + cornet, having crossed himself once more, took a little jug of <i>chikhir</i> + that stood behind him covered with a vine-leaf, and having had a drink + from the mouth of the jug passed it to the old woman. He had nothing on + over his shirt, which was unfastened at the neck and showed his shaggy + muscular chest. His fine-featured cunning face looked cheerful; neither in + his attitude nor in his words was his usual wiliness to be seen; he was + cheerful and natural. + </p> + <p> + ‘Shall we finish the bit beyond the shed to-night?’ he asked, wiping + his wet beard. + </p> + <p> + ‘We’ll manage it,’ replied his wife, ‘if only the + weather does not hinder us. The Demkins have not half finished yet,’ + she added. ‘Only Ustenka is at work there, wearing herself out.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘What can you expect of them?’ said the old man proudly. + </p> + <p> + ‘Here, have a drink, Maryanka dear!’ said the old woman, passing the + jug to the girl. ‘God willing we’ll have enough to pay for the + wedding feast,’ she added. + </p> + <p> + ‘That’s not yet awhile,’ said the cornet with a slight frown. + </p> + <p> + The girl hung her head. + </p> + <p> + ‘Why shouldn’t we mention it?’ said the old woman. ‘The + affair is settled, and the time is drawing near too.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Don’t make plans beforehand,’ said the cornet. ‘Now we + have the harvest to get in.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Have you seen Lukashka’s new horse?’ asked the old woman. + ‘That which Dmitri Andreich Olenin gave him is gone — he’s + exchanged it.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘No, I have not; but I spoke with the servant to-day,’ said the + cornet, ‘and he said his master has again received a thousand rubles.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Rolling in riches, in short,’ said the old woman. + </p> + <p> + The whole family felt cheerful and contented. + </p> + <p> + The work was progressing successfully. The grapes were more abundant and + finer than they had expected. + </p> + <p> + After dinner Maryanka threw some grass to the oxen, folded her <i>beshmet</i> + for a pillow, and lay down under the wagon on the juicy down-trodden + grass. She had on only a red kerchief over her head and a faded blue print + smock, yet + </p> + <p> + she felt unbearably hot. Her face was burning, and she did not know where + to put her feet, her eyes were moist with sleepiness and weariness, her + lips parted involuntarily, and her chest heaved heavily and deeply. + </p> + <p> + The busy time of year had begun a fortnight ago and the continuous heavy + labour had filled the girl’s life. At dawn she jumped up, washed her + face with cold water, wrapped herself in a shawl, and ran out barefoot to + see to the cattle. Then she hurriedly put on her shoes and her beshmet + and, taking a small bundle of bread, she harnessed the bullocks and drove + away to the vineyards for the whole day. There she cut the grapes and + carried the baskets with only an hour’s interval for rest, and in + the evening she returned to the village, bright and not tired, dragging + the bullocks by a rope or driving them with a long stick. After attending + to the cattle, she took some sunflower seeds in the wide sleeve of her + smock and went to the corner of the street to crack them and have some fun + with the other girls. But as soon as it was dusk she returned home, and + after having supper with her parents and her brother in the dark outhouse, + she went into the hut, healthy and free from care, and climbed onto the + oven, where half drowsing she listened to their lodger’s + conversation. As soon as he went away she would throw herself down on her + bed and sleep soundly and quietly till morning. And so it went on day + after day. She had not seen Lukashka since the day of their betrothal, but + calmly awaited the wedding. She had got used to their lodger and felt his + intent looks with pleasure. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0030" id="link2HCH0030"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Chapter XXX + </h2> + <p class="pfirst"> + <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">A</span>lthough there was + no escape from the heat and the mosquitoes swarmed in the cool shadow of + the wagons, and her little brother tossing about beside her kept pushing + her, Maryanka having drawn her kerchief over her head was just falling + asleep, when suddenly their neighbour Ustenka came running towards her + and, diving under the wagon, lay down beside her. + </p> + <p> + ‘Sleep, girls, sleep!’ said Ustenka, making herself comfortable + under the wagon. ‘Wait a bit,’ she exclaimed, ‘this won’t + do!’ + </p> + <p> + She jumped up, plucked some green branches, and stuck them through the + wheels on both sides of the wagon and hung her beshmet over them. + </p> + <p> + ‘Let me in,’ she shouted to the little boy as she again crept under + the wagon. ‘Is this the place for a Cossack—with the girls? Go + away!’ + </p> + <p> + When alone under the wagon with her friend, Ustenka suddenly put both her + arms round her, and clinging close to her began kissing her cheeks and + neck. + </p> + <p> + ‘Darling, sweetheart,’ she kept repeating, between bursts of shrill, + clear laughter. + </p> + <p> + ‘Why, you’ve learnt it from Grandad,’ said Maryanka, + struggling. ‘Stop it!’ + </p> + <p> + And they both broke into such peals of laughter that Maryanka’s + mother shouted to them to be quiet. + </p> + <p> + ‘Are you jealous?’ asked Ustenka in a whisper. + </p> + <p> + ‘What humbug! Let me sleep. What have you come for?’ + </p> + <p> + But Ustenka kept on, ‘I say! But I wanted to tell you such a thing.’ + </p> + <p> + Maryanka raised herself on her elbow and arranged the kerchief which had + slipped off. + </p> + <p> + ‘Well, what is it?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I know something about your lodger!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘There’s nothing to know,’ said Maryanka. + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, you rogue of a girl!’ said Ustenka, nudging her with her elbow + and laughing. ‘Won’t tell anything. Does he come to you?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘He does. What of that?’ said Maryanka with a sudden blush. + </p> + <p> + ‘Now I’m a simple lass. I tell everybody. Why should I pretend?’ + said Ustenka, and her bright rosy face suddenly became pensive. ‘Whom + do I hurt? I love him, that’s all about it.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Grandad, do you mean?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Well, yes!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘And the sin?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Ah, Maryanka! When is one to have a good time if not while one’s + still free? When I marry a Cossack I shall bear children and shall have + cares. There now, when you get married to Lukashka not even a thought of + joy will enter your head: children will come, and work!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Well? Some who are married live happily. It makes no difference!’ + Maryanka replied quietly. + </p> + <p> + ‘Do tell me just this once what has passed between you and Lukishka?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘What has passed? A match was proposed. Father put it off for a year, but + now it’s been settled and they’ll marry us in autumn.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘But what did he say to you?’ Maryanka smiled. + </p> + <p> + ‘What should he say? He said he loved me. He kept asking me to come to the + vineyards with him.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Just see what pitch! But you didn’t go, did you? And what a + dare-devil he has become: the first among the braves. He makes merry out + there in the army too! The other day our Kirka came home; he says: “What + a horse Lukashka’s got in exchange!” But all the same I expect + he frets after you. And what else did he say?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Must you know everything?’ said Maryanka laughing. ‘One night + he came to my window tipsy, and asked me to let him in.’ ‘And + you didn’t let him?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Let him, indeed! Once I have said a thing I keep to it firm as a rock,’ + answered Maryanka seriously. + </p> + <p> + ‘A fine fellow! If he wanted her, no girl would refuse him.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Well, let him go to the others,’ replied Maryanka proudly. + </p> + <p> + ‘You don’t pity him?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I do pity him, but I’ll have no nonsense. It is wrong.’ + Ustenka suddenly dropped her head on her friend’s breast, seized + hold of her, and shook with smothered laughter. ‘You silly fool!’ + she exclaimed, quite out of breath. ‘You don’t want to be + happy,’ and she began tickling Maryanka. ‘Oh, leave off!’ + said Maryanka, screaming and laughing. ‘You’ve crushed + Lazutka.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Hark at those young devils! Quite frisky! Not tired yet!’ came the + old woman’s sleepy voice from the wagon. + </p> + <p> + ‘Don’t want happiness,’ repeated Ustenka in a whisper, + insistently. ‘But you are lucky, that you are! How they love you! You are + so crusty, and yet they love you. Ah, if I were in your place I’d + soon turn the lodger’s head! I noticed him when you were at our + house. He was ready to eat you with his eyes. What things Grandad has + given me! And yours they say is the richest of the Russians. His orderly + says they have serfs of their own.’ + </p> + <p> + Maryanka raised herself, and after thinking a moment, smiled. + </p> + <p> + ‘Do you know what he once told me: the lodger I mean?’ she said, + biting a bit of grass. ‘He said, “I’d like to be + Lukashka the Cossack, or your brother Lazutka—.” What do you + think he meant?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, just chattering what came into his head,’ answered Ustenka. + ‘What does mine not say! Just as if he was possessed!’ + </p> + <p> + Maryanka dropped her hand on her folded beshmet, threw her arm over + Ustenka’s shoulder, and shut her eyes. + </p> + <p> + ‘He wanted to come and work in the vineyard to-day: father invited him,’ + she said, and after a short silence she fell asleep. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0031" id="link2HCH0031"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Chapter XXXI + </h2> + <p class="pfirst"> + <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>he sun had come + out from behind the pear-tree that had shaded the wagon, and even through + the branches that Ustenka had fixed up it scorched the faces of the + sleeping girls. Maryanka woke up and began arranging the kerchief on her + head. Looking about her, beyond the pear-tree she noticed their lodger, + who with his gun on his shoulder stood talking to her father. She nudged + Ustenka and smilingly pointed him out to her. + </p> + <p> + ‘I went yesterday and didn’t find a single one,’ Olenin was + saying as he looked about uneasily, not seeing Maryanka through the + branches. + </p> + <p> + ‘Ah, you should go out there in that direction, go right as by compasses, + there in a disused vineyard denominated as the Waste, hares are always to + be found,’ said the cornet, having at once changed his manner of + speech. + </p> + <p> + ‘A fine thing to go looking for hares in these busy times! You had better + come and help us, and do some work with the girls,’ the old woman + said merrily. ‘Now then, girls, up with you!’ she cried. + </p> + <p> + Maryanka and Ustenka under the cart were whispering and could hardly + restrain their laughter. + </p> + <p> + Since it had become known that Olenin had given a horse worth fifty rubles + to Lukashka, his hosts had become more amiable and the cornet in + particular saw with pleasure his daughter’s growing intimacy with + Olenin. ‘But I don’t know how to do the work,’ replied + Olenin, trying not to look through the green branches under the wagon + where he had now noticed Maryanka’s blue smock and red kerchief. + </p> + <p> + ‘Come, I’ll give you some peaches,’ said the old woman. + </p> + <p> + ‘It’s only according to the ancient Cossack hospitality. It’s + her old woman’s silliness,’ said the cornet, explaining and + apparently correcting his wife’s words. ‘In Russia, I expect, + it’s not so much peaches as pineapple jam and preserves you have + been accustomed to eat at your pleasure.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘So you say hares are to be found in the disused vineyard?’ asked + Olenin. ‘I will go there,’ and throwing a hasty glance through + the green branches he raised his cap and disappeared between the regular + rows of green vines. + </p> + <p> + The sun had already sunk behind the fence of the vineyards, and its broken + rays glittered through the translucent leaves when Olenin returned to his + host’s vineyard. The wind was falling and a cool freshness was + beginning to spread around. By some instinct Olenin recognized from afar + Maryanka’s blue smock among the rows of vine, and, picking grapes on + his way, he approached her. His highly excited dog also now and then + seized a low-hanging cluster of grapes in his slobbering mouth. Maryanka, + her face flushed, her sleeves rolled up, and her kerchief down below her + chin, was rapidly cutting the heavy clusters and laying them in a basket. + Without letting go of the vine she had hold of, she stopped to smile + pleasantly at him and resumed her work. Olenin drew near and threw his gun + behind his back to have his hands free. ‘Where are your people? May + God aid you! Are you alone?’ he meant to say but did not say, and + only raised his cap in silence. + </p> + <p> + He was ill at ease alone with Maryanka, but as if purposely to torment + himself he went up to her. + </p> + <p> + ‘You’ll be shooting the women with your gun like that,’ said + Maryanka. + </p> + <p> + ‘No, I shan’t shoot them.’ + </p> + <p> + They were both silent. + </p> + <p> + Then after a pause she said: ‘You should help me.’ + </p> + <p> + He took out his knife and began silently to cut off the clusters. He + reached from under the leaves low down a thick bunch weighing about three + pounds, the grapes of which grew so close that they flattened each other + for want of space. He showed it to Maryanka. + </p> + <p> + ‘Must they all be cut? Isn’t this one too green?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Give it here.’ + </p> + <p> + Their hands touched. Olenin took her hand, and she looked at him smiling. + </p> + <p> + ‘Are you going to be married soon?’ he asked. + </p> + <p> + She did not answer, but turned away with a stern look. + </p> + <p> + ‘Do you love Lukashka?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘What’s that to you?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I envy him!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Very likely!’ ‘No really. You are so beautiful!’ + </p> + <p> + And he suddenly felt terribly ashamed of having said it, so commonplace + did the words seem to him. He flushed, lost control of himself, and seized + both her hands. + </p> + <p> + ‘Whatever I am, I’m not for you. Why do you make fun of me?’ + replied Maryanka, but her look showed how certainly she knew he was not + making fun. + </p> + <p> + ‘Making fun? If you only knew how I—’ + </p> + <p> + The words sounded still more commonplace, they accorded still less with + what he felt, but yet he continued, ‘I don’t know what I would + not do for you—’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Leave me alone, you pitch!’ + </p> + <p> + But her face, her shining eyes, her swelling bosom, her shapely legs, said + something quite different. It seemed to him that she understood how petty + were all things he had said, but that she was superior to such + considerations. It seemed to him she had long known all he wished and was + not able to tell her, but wanted to hear how he would say it. ‘And how can + she help knowing,’ he thought, ‘since I only want to tell her + all that she herself is? But she does not wish to under-stand, does not + wish to reply.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Hallo!’ suddenly came Ustenka’s high voice from behind the + vine at no great distance, followed by her shrill laugh. ‘Come and + help me, Dmitri Andreich. I am all alone,’ she cried, thrusting her + round, naive little face through the vines. + </p> + <p> + Olenin did not answer nor move from his place. + </p> + <p> + Maryanka went on cutting and continually looked up at Olenin. He was about + to say something, but stopped, shrugged his shoulders and, having jerked + up his gun, walked out of the vineyard with rapid strides. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0032" id="link2HCH0032"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Chapter XXXII + </h2> + <p class="pfirst"> + <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">H</span>e stopped once or + twice, listening to the ringing laughter of Maryanka and Ustenka who, + having come together, were shouting something. Olenin spent the whole + evening hunting in the forest and returned home at dusk without having + killed anything. When crossing the road he noticed her open the door of + the outhouse, and her blue smock showed through it. He called to Vanyusha + very loud so as to let her know that he was back, and then sat down in the + porch in his usual place. His hosts now returned from the vineyard; they + came out of the outhouse and into their hut, but did not ask of the latch + and knocked. The floor hardly creaked under the bare cautious footsteps + which approached the door. The latch clicked, the door creaked, and he + noticed a faint smell of marjoram and pumpkin, and Maryanka’s whole + figure appeared in the doorway. He saw her only for an instant in the + moonlight. She slammed the door and, muttering something, ran lightly back + again. Olenin began rapping softly but nothing responded. He ran to the + window and listened. Suddenly he was startled by a shrill, squeaky man’s + voice. + </p> + <p> + ‘Fine!’ exclaimed a rather small young Cossack in a white cap, + coming across the yard close to Olenin. ‘I saw ... fine!’ + </p> + <p> + Olenin recognized Nazarka, and was silent, not knowing what to do or say. + </p> + <p> + ‘Fine! I’ll go and tell them at the office, and I’ll tell her + father! That’s a fine cornet’s daughter! One’s not + enough for her.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘What do you want of me, what are you after?’ uttered Olenin. + </p> + <p> + ‘Nothing; only I’ll tell them at the office.’ + </p> + <p> + Nazarka spoke very loud, and evidently did so intentionally, adding: ‘Just + see what a clever cadet!’ + </p> + <p> + Olenin trembled and grew pale. + </p> + <p> + ‘Come here, here!’ He seized the Cossack firmly by the arm and drew + him towards his hut. + </p> + <p> + ‘Nothing happened, she did not let me in, and I too mean no harm. She is + an honest girl—’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Eh, discuss—’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes, but all the same I’ll give you something now. Wait a bit!’ + </p> + <p> + Nazarka said nothing. Olenin ran into his hut and brought out ten rubles, + which he gave to the Cossack. + </p> + <p> + ‘Nothing happened, but still I was to blame, so I give this!—Only + for God’s sake don’t let anyone know, for nothing happened...’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I wish you joy,’ said Nazarka laughing, and went away. + </p> + <p> + Nazarka had come to the village that night at Lukashka’s bidding to + find a place to hide a stolen horse, and now, passing by on his way home, + had heard the sound of footsteps. When he returned next morning to his + company he bragged to his chum, and told him how cleverly he had got ten + rubles. Next morning Olenin met his hosts and they knew nothing about the + events of the night. He did not speak to Maryanka, and she only laughed a + little when she looked at him. Next night he also passed without sleep, + vainly wandering about the yard. The day after he purposely spent + shooting, and in the evening he went to see Beletski to escape from his + own thoughts. He was afraid of himself, and promised himself not to go to + his hosts’ hut any more. + </p> + <p> + That night he was roused by the sergeant-major. His company was ordered to + start at once on a raid. Olenin was glad this had happened, and thought he + would not again return to the village. + </p> + <p> + The raid lasted four days. The commander, who was a relative of Olenin’s, + wished to see him and offered to let him remain with the staff, but this + Olenin declined. He found that he could not live away from the village, + and asked to be allowed to return to it. For having taken part in the raid + he received a soldier’s cross, which he had formerly greatly + desired. Now he was quite indifferent about it, and even more indifferent + about his promotion, the order for which had still not arrived. + Accompanied by Vanyusha he rode back to the cordon without any accident + several hours in advance of the rest of the company. He spent the whole + evening in his porch watching Maryanka, and he again walked about the + yard, without aim or thought, all night. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0033" id="link2HCH0033"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Chapter XXXIII + </h2> + <p class="pfirst"> + <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">I</span>t was late when he + awoke the next day. His hosts were no longer in. He did not go shooting, + but now took up a book, and now went out into the porch, and now again + re-entered the hut and lay down on the bed. Vanyusha thought he was ill. + </p> + <p> + Towards evening Olenin got up, resolutely began writing, and wrote on till + late at night. He wrote a letter, but did not post it because he felt that + no one would have understood what he wanted to say, and besides it was not + necessary that anyone but himself should understand it. This is what he + wrote: + </p> + <p> + ‘I receive letters of condolence from Russia. They are afraid that I shall + perish, buried in these wilds. They say about me: “He will become + coarse; he will be behind the times in everything; he will take to drink, + and who knows but that he may marry a Cossack girl.” It was not for + nothing, they say, that Ermolov declared: “Anyone serving in the + Caucasus for ten years either becomes a confirmed drunkard or marries a + loose woman.” How terrible! Indeed it won’t do for me to ruin + myself when I might have the great happiness of even becoming the Countess + B——‘s husband, or a Court chamberlain, or a Marechal de + noblesse of my district. Oh, how repulsive and pitiable you all seem to + me! You do not know what happiness is and what life is! One must taste + life once in all its natural beauty, must see and understand what I see + every day before me—those eternally unapproachable snowy peaks, and + a majestic woman in that primitive beauty in which the first woman must + have come from her creator’s hands—and then it becomes clear + who is ruining himself and who is living truly or falsely—you or I. + If you only knew how despicable and pitiable you, in your delusions, seem + to me! When I picture to myself—in place of my hut, my forests, and + my love—those drawing-rooms, those women with their pomatum-greased + hair eked out with false curls, those unnaturally grimacing lips, those + hidden, feeble, distorted limbs, and that chatter of obligatory + drawing-room conversation which has no right to the name—I feel + unendurably revolted. I then see before me those obtuse faces, those rich + eligible girls whose looks seem to say: + </p> + <p> + “It’s all right, you may come near though I am rich and + eligible”—and that arranging and rearranging of seats, that + shameless match-making and that eternal tittle-tattle and pretence; those + rules—with whom to shake hands, to whom only to nod, with whom to + converse (and all this done deliberately with a conviction of its + inevitability), that continual ennui in the blood passing on from + generation to generation. Try to understand or believe just this one + thing: you need only see and comprehend what truth and beauty are, and all + that you now say and think and all your wishes for me and for yourselves + will fly to atoms! Happiness is being with nature, seeing her, and + conversing with her. “He may even (God forbid) marry a common + Cossack girl, and be quite lost socially” I can imagine them saying + of me with sincere pity! Yet the one thing I desire is to be quite “lost” + in your sense of the word. I wish to marry a Cossack girl, and dare not + because it would be a height of happiness of which I am unworthy. + </p> + <p> + ‘Three months have passed since I first saw the Cossack girl, Maryanka. + The views and prejudices of the world I had left were still fresh in me. I + did not then believe that I could love that woman. I delighted in her + beauty just as I delighted in the beauty of the mountains and the sky, nor + could I help delighting in her, for she is as beautiful as they. I found + that the sight of her beauty had become a necessity of my life and I began + asking myself whether I did not love her. But I could find nothing within + myself at all like love as I had imagined it to be. Mine was not the + restlessness of loneliness and desire for marriage, nor was it platonic, + still less a carnal love such as I have experienced. I needed only to see + her, to hear her, to know that she was near—and if I was not happy, + I was at peace. + </p> + <p> + ‘After an evening gathering at which I met her and touched her, I felt + that between that woman and myself there existed an indissoluble though + unacknowledged bond against which I could not struggle, yet I did + struggle. I asked myself: “Is it possible to love a woman who will + never understand the profoundest interests of my life? Is it possible to + love a woman simply for her beauty, to love the statue of a woman?” + But I was already in love with her, though I did not yet trust to my + feelings. + </p> + <p> + ‘After that evening when I first spoke to her our relations changed. + Before that she had been to me an extraneous but majestic object of + external nature: but since then she has become a human being. I began to + meet her, to talk to her, and sometimes to go to work for her father and + to spend whole evenings with them, and in this intimate intercourse she + remained still in my eyes just as pure, inaccessible, and majestic. She + always responded with equal calm, pride, and cheerful equanimity. + Sometimes she was friendly, but generally her every look, every word, and + every movement expressed equanimity—not contemptuous, but crushing + and bewitching. Every day with a feigned smile on my lips I tried to play + a part, and with torments of passion and desire in my heart I spoke + banteringly to her. She saw that I was dissembling, but looked straight at + me cheerfully and simply. This position became unbearable. I wished not to + deceive her but to tell her all I thought and felt. I was extremely + agitated. We were in the vineyard when I began to tell her of my love, in + words I am now ashamed to remember. I am ashamed because I ought not to + have dared to speak so to her because she stood far above such words and + above the feeling they were meant to express. I said no more, but from + that day my position has been intolerable. I did not wish to demean myself + by continuing our former flippant relations, and at the same time I felt + that I had not yet reached the level of straight and simple relations with + her. I asked myself despairingly, “What am I to do?” In + foolish dreams I imagined her now as my mistress and now as my wife, but + rejected both ideas with disgust. To make her a wanton woman would be + dreadful. It would be murder. To turn her into a fine lady, the wife of + Dmitri Andreich Olenin, like a Cossack woman here who is married to one of + our officers, would be still worse. Now could I turn Cossack like + Lukashka, and steal horses, get drunk on chikhir, sing rollicking songs, + kill people, and when drunk climb in at her window for the night without a + thought of who and what I am, it would be different: then we might + understand one another and I might be happy. + </p> + <p> + ‘I tried to throw myself into that kind of life but was still more + conscious of my own weakness and artificiality. I cannot forget myself and + my complex, distorted past, and my future appears to me still more + hopeless. Every day I have before me the distant snowy mountains and this + majestic, happy woman. But not for me is the only happiness possible in + the world; I cannot have this woman! What is most terrible and yet + sweetest in my condition is that I feel that I understand her but that she + will never understand me; not because she is inferior: on the contrary she + ought not to understand me. She is happy, she is like nature: consistent, + calm, and self-contained; and I, a weak distorted being, want her to + understand my deformity and my torments! I have not slept at night, but + have aimlessly passed under her windows not rendering account to myself of + what was happening to me. On the 18th our company started on a raid, and I + spent three days away from the village. I was sad and apathetic, the usual + songs, cards, drinking-bouts, and talk of rewards in the regiment, were + more repulsive to me than usual. Yesterday I returned home and saw her, my + hut. Daddy Eroshka, and the snowy mountains, from my porch, and was seized + by such a strong, new feeling of joy that I understood it all. I love this + woman; I feel real love for the first and only time in my life. I know + what has befallen me. I do not fear to be degraded by this feeling, I am + not ashamed of my love, I am proud of it. It is not my fault that I love. + It has come about against my will. I tried to escape from my love by + self-renunciation, and tried to devise a joy in the Cossack Lukashka’s + and Maryanka’s love, but thereby only stirred up my own love and + jealousy. This is not the ideal, the so-called exalted love which I have + known before; not that sort of attachment in which you admire your own + love and feel that the source of your emotion is within yourself and do + everything yourself. I have felt that too. It is still less a desire for + enjoyment: it is something different. Perhaps in her I love nature: the + personification of all that is beautiful in nature; but yet I am not + acting by my own will, but some elemental force loves through me; the + whole of God’s world, all nature, presses this love into my soul and + says, “Love her.” I love her not with my mind or my + imagination, but with my whole being. Loving her I feel myself to be an + integral part of all God’s joyous world. I wrote before about the + new convictions to which my solitary life had brought me, but no one knows + with what labour they shaped themselves within me and with what joy I + realized them and saw a new way of life opening out before me; nothing was + dearer to me than those convictions... Well! ... love has come and neither + they nor any regrets for them remain! It is even difficult for me to + believe that I could prize such a one-sided, cold, and abstract state of + mind. Beauty came and scattered to the winds all that laborious inward + toil, and no regret remains for what has vanished! Self-renunciation is + all nonsense and absurdity! That is pride, a refuge from well-merited + unhappiness, and salvation from the envy of others’ happiness: + “Live for others, and do good!”—Why? when in my soul + there is only love for myself and the desire to love her and to live her + life with her? Not for others, not for Lukashka, I now desire happiness. I + do not now love those others. Formerly I should have told myself that this + is wrong. I should have tormented myself with the questions: What will + become of her, of me, and of Lukashka? Now I don’t care. I do not + live my own life, there is something stronger than me which directs me. I + suffer; but formerly I was dead and only now do I live. Today I will go to + their house and tell her everything.’ + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0034" id="link2HCH0034"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Chapter XXXIV + </h2> + <p class="pfirst"> + <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">L</span>ate that evening, + after writing this letter, Olenin went to his hosts’ hut. The old + woman was sitting on a bench behind the oven unwinding cocoons. Maryanka + with her head uncovered sat sewing by the light of a candle. On seeing + Olenin she jumped up, took her kerchief and stepped to the oven. ‘Maryanka + dear,’ said her mother, ‘won’t you sit here with me a + bit?’ ‘No, I’m bareheaded,’ she replied, and + sprang up on the oven. Olenin could only see a knee, and one of her + shapely legs hanging down from the oven. He treated the old woman to tea. + She treated her guest to clotted cream which she sent Maryanka to fetch. + But having put a plateful on the table Maryanka again sprang on the oven + from whence Olenin felt her eyes upon him. They talked about household + matters. Granny Ulitka became animated and went into raptures of + hospitality. She brought Olenin preserved grapes and a grape tart and some + of her best wine, and pressed him to eat and drink with the rough yet + proud hospitality of country folk, only found among those who produce + their bread by the labour of their own hands. The old woman, who had at + first struck Olenin so much by her rudeness, now often touched him by her + simple tenderness towards her daughter. + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes, we need not offend the Lord by grumbling! We have enough of + everything, thank God. We have pressed sufficient CHIKHIR and have + preserved and shall sell three or four barrels of grapes and have enough + left to drink. Don’t be in a hurry to leave us. We will make merry + together at the wedding.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘And when is the wedding to be?’ asked Olenin, feeling his blood + suddenly rush to his face while his heart beat irregularly and painfully. + </p> + <p> + He heard a movement on the oven and the sound of seeds being cracked. + </p> + <p> + ‘Well, you know, it ought to be next week. We are quite ready,’ + replied the old woman, as simply and quietly as though Olenin did not + exist. ‘I have prepared and have procured everything for Maryanka. + We will give her away properly. Only there’s one thing not quite + right. Our Lukashka has been running rather wild. He has been too much on + the spree! He’s up to tricks! The other day a Cossack came here from + his company and said he had been to Nogay.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘He must mind he does not get caught,’ said Olenin. + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes, that’s what I tell him. “Mind, Lukashka, don’t you + get into mischief. Well, of course, a young fellow naturally wants to cut + a dash. But there’s a time for everything. Well, you’ve + captured or stolen something and killed an abrek! Well, you’re a + fine fellow! But now you should live quietly for a bit, or else there’ll + be trouble.”’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes, I saw him a time or two in the division, he was always merry-making. + He has sold another horse,’ said Olenin, and glanced towards the + oven. A pair of large, dark, and hostile eyes glittered as they gazed + severely at him. + </p> + <p> + He became ashamed of what he had said. ‘What of it? He does no one + any harm,’ suddenly remarked Maryanka. ‘He makes merry with + his own money,’ and lowering her legs she jumped down from the oven + and went out banging the door. + </p> + <p> + Olenin followed her with his eyes as long as she was in the hut, and then + looked at the door and waited, understanding nothing of what Granny Ulitka + was telling him. + </p> + <p> + A few minutes later some visitors arrived: an old man, Granny Ulitka’s + brother, with Daddy Eroshka, and following them came Maryanka and Ustenka. + </p> + <p> + ‘Good evening,’ squeaked Ustenka. ‘Still on holiday?’ + she added, turning to Olenin. + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes, still on holiday,’ he replied, and felt, he did not know why, + ashamed and ill at ease. + </p> + <p> + He wished to go away but could not. It also seemed to him impossible to + remain silent. The old man helped him by asking for a drink, and they had + a drink. Olenin drank with Eroshka, with the other Cossack, and again with + Eroshka, and the more he drank the heavier was his heart. But the two old + men grew merry. The girls climbed onto the oven, where they sat whispering + and looking at the men, who drank till it was late. Olenin did not talk, + but drank more than the others. The Cossacks were shouting. The old woman + would not let them have any more chikhir, and at last turned them out. The + girls laughed at Daddy Eroshka, and it was past ten when they all went out + into the porch. The old men invited themselves to finish their + merry-making at Olenin’s. Ustenka ran off home and Eroshka led the + old Cossack to Vanyusha. The old woman went out to tidy up the shed. + Maryanka remained alone in the hut. Olenin felt fresh and joyous, as if he + had only just woke up. He noticed everything, and having let the old men + pass ahead he turned back to the hut where Maryanka was preparing for bed. + He went up to her and wished to say something, but his voice broke. She + moved away from him, sat down cross-legged on her bed in the corner, and + looked at him silently with wild and frightened eyes. She was evidently + afraid of him. Olenin felt this. He felt sorry and ashamed of himself, and + at the same time proud and pleased that he aroused even that feeling in + her. + </p> + <p> + ‘Maryanka!’ he said. ‘Will you never take pity on me? I can’t + tell you how I love you.’ + </p> + <p> + She moved still farther away. + </p> + <p> + ‘Just hear how the wine is speaking! ... You’ll get nothing from me!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘No, it is not the wine. Don’t marry Lukashka. I will marry you.’ + (‘What am I saying,’ he thought as he uttered these words. + ‘Shall I be able to say the same to-morrow?’ ‘Yes, I + shall, I am sure I shall, and I will repeat them now,’ replied an + inner voice.) + </p> + <p> + ‘Will you marry me?’ + </p> + <p> + She looked at him seriously and her fear seemed to have passed. + </p> + <p> + ‘Maryanka, I shall go out of my mind! I am not myself. I will do whatever + you command,’ and madly tender words came from his lips of their own + accord. + </p> + <p> + ‘Now then, what are you drivelling about?’ she interrupted, suddenly + seizing the arm he was stretching towards her. She did not push his arm + away but pressed it firmly with her strong hard fingers. ‘Do + gentlemen marry Cossack girls? Go away!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘But will you? Everything...’ + </p> + <p> + ‘And what shall we do with Lukashka?’ said she, laughing. + </p> + <p> + He snatched away the arm she was holding and firmly embraced her young + body, but she sprang away like a fawn and ran barefoot into the porch: + Olenin came to his senses and was terrified at himself. He again felt + himself inexpressibly vile compared to her, yet not repenting for an + instant of what he had said he went home, and without even glancing at the + old men who were drinking in his room he lay down and fell asleep more + soundly than he had done for a long time. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0035" id="link2HCH0035"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Chapter XXXV + </h2> + <p class="pfirst"> + <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>he next day was a + holiday. In the evening all the villagers, their holiday clothes shining + in the sunset, were out in the street. That season more wine than usual + had been produced, and the people were now free from their labours. In a + month the Cossacks were to start on a campaign and in many families + preparations were being made for weddings. + </p> + <p> + Most of the people were standing in the square in front of the Cossack + Government Office and near the two shops, in one of which cakes and + pumpkin seeds were sold, in the other kerchiefs and cotton prints. On the + earth-embankment of the office-building sat or stood the old men in sober + grey, or black coats without gold trimmings or any kind of ornament. They + conversed among themselves quietly in measured tones, about the harvest, + about the young folk, about village affairs, and about old times, looking + with dignified equanimity at the younger generation. Passing by them, the + women and girls stopped and bent their heads. The young Cossacks + respectfully slackened their pace and raised their caps, holding them for + a while over their heads. The old men then stopped speaking. Some of them + watched the passers-by severely, others kindly, and in their turn slowly + took off their caps and put them on again. + </p> + <p> + The Cossack girls had not yet started dancing their khorovods, but having + gathered in groups, in their bright coloured beshmets with white kerchiefs + on their heads pulled down to their eyes, they sat either on the ground or + on the earth-banks about the huts sheltered from the oblique rays of the + sun, and laughed and chattered in their ringing voices. Little boys and + girls playing in the square sent their balls high up into the clear sky, + and ran about squealing and shouting. The half-grown girls had started + dancing their khorovods, and were timidly singing in their thin shrill + voices. Clerks, lads not in the service, or home for the holiday, + bright-faced and wearing smart white or new red Circassian gold-trimmed + coats, went about arm in arm in twos or threes from one group of women or + girls to another, and stopped to joke and chat with the Cossack girls. The + Armenian shopkeeper, in a gold-trimmed coat of fine blue cloth, stood at + the open door through which piles of folded bright-coloured kerchiefs were + visible and, conscious of his own importance and with the pride of an + Oriental tradesman, waited for customers. Two red-bearded, barefooted + Chechens, who had come from beyond the Terek to see the fete, sat on their + heels outside the house of a friend, negligently smoking their little + pipes and occasionally spitting, watching the villagers and exchanging + remarks with one another in their rapid guttural speech. Occasionally a + workaday-looking soldier in an old overcoat passed across the square among + the bright-clad girls. Here and there the songs of tipsy Cossacks who were + merry-making could already be heard. All the huts were closed; the porches + had been scrubbed clean the day before. Even the old women were out in the + street, which was everywhere sprinkled with pumpkin and melon seed-shells. + The air was warm and still, the sky deep and clear. Beyond the roofs the + dead-white mountain range, which seemed very near, was turning rosy in the + glow of the evening sun. Now and then from the other side of the river + came the distant roar of a cannon, but above the village, mingling with + one another, floated all sorts of merry holiday sounds. + </p> + <p> + Olenin had been pacing the yard all that morning hoping to see Maryanka. + But she, having put on holiday clothes, went to Mass at the chapel and + afterwards sat with the other girls on an earth-embankment cracking seeds; + sometimes again, together with her companions, she ran home, and each time + gave the lodger a bright and kindly look. Olenin felt afraid to address + her playfully or in the presence of others. He wished to finish telling + her what he had begun to say the night before, and to get her to give him + a definite answer. He waited for another moment like that of yesterday + evening, but the moment did not come, and he felt that he could not remain + any longer in this uncertainty. She went out into the street again, and + after waiting awhile he too went out and without knowing where he was + going he followed her. He passed by the corner where she was sitting in + her shining blue satin beshmet, and with an aching heart he heard behind + him the girls laughing. + </p> + <p> + Beletski’s hut looked out onto the square. As Olenin was passing it + he heard Beletski’s voice calling to him, ‘Come in,’ and + in he went. + </p> + <p> + After a short talk they both sat down by the window and were soon joined + by Eroshka, who entered dressed in a new beshmet and sat down on the floor + beside them. + </p> + <p> + ‘There, that’s the aristocratic party,’ said Beletski, + pointing with his cigarette to a brightly coloured group at the corner. + ‘Mine is there too. Do you see her? in red. That’s a new + beshmet. Why don’t you start the khorovod?’ he shouted, + leaning out of the window. ‘Wait a bit, and then when it grows dark + let us go too. Then we will invite them to Ustenka’s. We must + arrange a ball for them!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘And I will come to Ustenka’s,’ said Olenin in a decided tone. + ‘Will Maryanka be there?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes, she’ll be there. Do come!’ said Beletski, without the + least surprise. ‘But isn’t it a pretty picture?’ he + added, pointing to the motley crowds. + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes, very!’ Olenin assented, trying to appear indifferent. + </p> + <p> + ‘Holidays of this kind,’ he added, ‘always make me wonder why + all these people should suddenly be contented and jolly. To-day for + instance, just because it happens to be the fifteenth of the month, + everything is festive. Eyes and faces and voices and movements and + garments, and the air and the sun, are all in a holiday mood. And we no + longer have any holidays!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes,’ said Beletski, who did not like such reflections. + </p> + <p> + ‘And why are you not drinking, old fellow?’ he said, turning to + Eroshka. + </p> + <p> + Eroshka winked at Olenin, pointing to Beletski. ‘Eh, he’s a + proud one that kunak of yours,’ he said. + </p> + <p> + Beletski raised his glass. ALLAH BIRDY’ he said, emptying it. (ALLAH + BIRDY, ‘God has given!’—the usual greeting of Caucasians + when drinking together.) + </p> + <p> + ‘Sau bul’ (‘Your health’), answered Eroshka smiling, and + emptied his glass. + </p> + <p> + ‘Speaking of holidays!’ he said, turning to Olenin as he rose and + looked out of the window, ‘What sort of holiday is that! You should + have seen them make merry in the old days! The women used to come out in + their gold—trimmed sarafans. Two rows of gold coins hanging round + their necks and gold-cloth diadems on their heads, and when they passed + they made a noise, “flu, flu,” with their dresses. Every woman + looked like a princess. Sometimes they’d come out, a whole herd of + them, and begin singing songs so that the air seemed to rumble, and they + went on making merry all night. And the Cossacks would roll out a barrel + into the yards and sit down and drink till break of day, or they would go + hand-in-hand sweeping the village. Whoever they met they seized and took + along with them, and went from house to house. Sometimes they used to make + merry for three days on end. Father used to come home—I still + remember it—quite red and swollen, without a cap, having lost + everything: he’d come and lie down. Mother knew what to do: she + would bring him some fresh caviar and a little chikhir to sober him up, + and would herself run about in the village looking for his cap. Then he’d + sleep for two days! That’s the sort of fellows they were then! But + now what are they?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Well, and the girls in the sarafans, did they make merry all by + themselves?’ asked Beletski. + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes, they did! Sometimes Cossacks would come on foot or on horse and say, + “Let’s break up the khorovods,” and they’d go, but + the girls would take up cudgels. Carnival week, some young fellow would + come galloping up, and they’d cudgel his horse and cudgel him too. + But he’d break through, seize the one he loved, and carry her off. + And his sweetheart would love him to his heart’s content! Yes, the + girls in those days, they were regular queens!’ + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0036" id="link2HCH0036"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Chapter XXXVI + </h2> + <p class="pfirst"> + <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">J</span>ust then two men + rode out of the side street into the square. One of them was Nazarka. The + other, Lukashka, sat slightly sideways on his well-fed bay Kabarda horse + which stepped lightly over the hard road jerking its beautiful head with + its fine glossy mane. The well-adjusted gun in its cover, the pistol at + his back, and the cloak rolled up behind his saddle showed that Lukashka + had not come from a peaceful place or from one near by. The smart way in + which he sat a little sideways on his horse, the careless motion with + which he touched the horse under its belly with his whip, and especially + his half-closed black eyes, glistening as he looked proudly around him, + all expressed the conscious strength and self-confidence of youth. ‘Ever + seen as fine a lad?’ his eyes, looking from side to side, seemed to + say. The elegant horse with its silver ornaments and trappings, the + weapons, and the handsome Cossack himself attracted the attention of + everyone in the square. Nazarka, lean and short, was much less well + dressed. As he rode past the old men, Lukashka paused and raised his curly + white sheepskin cap above his closely cropped black head. + </p> + <p> + ‘Well, have you carried off many Nogay horses?’ asked a lean old man + with a frowning, lowering look. + </p> + <p> + ‘Have you counted them, Grandad, that you ask?’ replied Lukashka, + turning away. + </p> + <p> + ‘That’s all very well, but you need not take my lad along with you,’ + the old man muttered with a still darker frown. + </p> + <p> + ‘Just see the old devil, he knows everything,’ muttered Lukashka to + himself, and a worried expression came over his face; but then, noticing a + corner where a number of Cossack girls were standing, he turned his horse + towards them. + </p> + <p> + ‘Good evening, girls!’ he shouted in his powerful, resonant voice, + suddenly checking his horse. ‘You’ve grown old without me, you + witches!’ and he laughed. + </p> + <p> + ‘Good evening, Lukashka! Good evening, laddie!’ the merry voices + answered. ‘Have you brought much money? Buy some sweets for the + girls! ... Have you come for long? True enough, it’s long since we + saw you....’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Nazarka and I have just flown across to make a night of it,’ + replied Lukashka, raising his whip and riding straight at the girls. + </p> + <p> + ‘Why, Maryanka has quite forgotten you,’ said Ustenka, nudging + Maryanka with her elbow and breaking into a shrill laugh. + </p> + <p> + Maryanka moved away from the horse and throwing back her head calmly + looked at the Cossack with her large sparkling eyes. + </p> + <p> + ‘True enough, you have not been home for a long time! Why are you + trampling us under your horse?’ she remarked dryly, and turned away. + </p> + <p> + Lukashka had appeared particularly merry. His face shone with audacity and + joy. Obviously staggered by Maryanka’s cold reply he suddenly + knitted his brow. + </p> + <p> + ‘Step up on my stirrup and I’ll carry you away to the mountains. + Mammy!’ he suddenly exclaimed, and as if to disperse his dark + thoughts he caracoled among the girls. Stooping down towards Maryanka, he + said, ‘I’ll kiss, oh, how I’ll kiss you! ...’ + </p> + <p> + Maryanka’s eyes met his and she suddenly blushed and stepped back. + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, bother you! you’ll crush my feet,’ she said, and bending + her head looked at her well-shaped feet in their tightly fitting light + blue stockings with clocks and her new red slippers trimmed with narrow + silver braid. + </p> + <p> + Lukashka turned towards Ustenka, and Maryanka sat down next to a woman + with a baby in her arms. The baby stretched his plump little hands towards + the girl and seized a necklace string that hung down onto her blue + beshmet. Maryanka bent towards the child and glanced at Lukashka from the + corner of her eyes. Lukashka just then was getting out from under his + coat, from the pocket of his black beshmet, a bundle of sweetmeats and + seeds. + </p> + <p> + ‘There, I give them to all of you,’ he said, handing the bundle to + Ustenka and smiling at Maryanka. + </p> + <p> + A confused expression again appeared on the girl’s face. It was as + though a mist gathered over her beautiful eyes. She drew her kerchief down + below her lips, and leaning her head over the fair-skinned face of the + baby that still held her by her coin necklace she suddenly began to kiss + it greedily. The baby pressed his little hands against the girl’s + high breasts, and opening his toothless mouth screamed loudly. + </p> + <p> + “You’re smothering the boy!” said the little one’s + mother, taking him away; and she unfastened her beshmet to give him the + breast. “You’d better have a chat with the young fellow.” + </p> + <p> + “I’ll only go and put up my horse and then Nazarka and I will + come back; we’ll make merry all night,” said Lukashka, + touching his horse with his whip and riding away from the girls. + </p> + <p> + Turning into a side street, he and Nazarka rode up to two huts that stood + side by side. + </p> + <p> + “Here we are all right, old fellow! Be quick and come soon!” + called Lukashka to his comrade, dismounting in front of one of the huts; + then he carefully led his horse in at the gate of the wattle fence of his + own home. + </p> + <p> + “How d’you do, Stepka?” he said to his dumb sister, who, + smartly dressed like the others, came in from the street to take his + horse; and he made signs to her to take the horse to the hay, but not to + unsaddle it. + </p> + <p> + The dumb girl made her usual humming noise, smacked her lips as she + pointed to the horse and kissed it on the nose, as much as to say that she + loved it and that it was a fine horse. + </p> + <p> + “How d’you do. Mother? How is it that you have not gone out + yet?” shouted Lukashka, holding his gun in place as he mounted the + steps of the porch. + </p> + <p> + His old mother opened the door. + </p> + <p> + “Dear me! I never expected, never thought, you’d come,” + said the old woman. “Why, Kirka said you wouldn’t be here.” + </p> + <p> + “Go and bring some chikhir, Mother. Nazarka is coming here and we + will celebrate the feast day.” + </p> + <p> + “Directly, Lukashka, directly!” answered the old woman. + “Our women are making merry. I expect our dumb one has gone too.” + </p> + <p> + She took her keys and hurriedly went to the outhouse. Nazarka, after + putting up his horse and taking the gun off his shoulder, returned to + Lukashka’s house and went in. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0037" id="link2HCH0037"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Chapter XXXVII + </h2> + <p> + |'Your health!’ said Lukashka, taking from his mother’s hands + a cup filled to the brim with chikhir and carefully raising it to his + bowed head. + </p> + <p> + ‘A bad business!’ said Nazarka. ‘You heard how Daddy Burlak + said, “Have you stolen many horses?” He seems to know!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘A regular wizard!’ Lukashka replied shortly. ‘But what of it!’ + he added, tossing his head. ‘They are across the river by now. Go + and find them!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Still it’s a bad lookout.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘What’s a bad lookout? Go and take some chikhir to him to-morrow and + nothing will come of it. Now let’s make merry. Drink!’ shouted + Lukashka, just in the tone in which old Eroshka uttered the word. ‘We’ll + go out into the street and make merry with the girls. You go and get some + honey; or no, I’ll send our dumb wench. We’ll make merry till + morning.’ + </p> + <p> + Nazarka smiled. + </p> + <p> + ‘Are we stopping here long?’ he asked. + </p> + <p> + Till we’ve had a bit of fun. Run and get some vodka. Here’s + the money.’ + </p> + <p> + Nazarka ran off obediently to get the vodka from Yamka’s. + </p> + <p> + Daddy Eroshka and Ergushov, like birds of prey, scenting where the + merry-making was going on, tumbled into the hut one after the other, both + tipsy. + </p> + <p> + ‘Bring us another half-pail,’ shouted Lukashka to his mother, by way + of reply to their greeting. + </p> + <p> + ‘Now then, tell us where did you steal them, you devil?’ shouted + Eroshka. ‘Fine fellow, I’m fond of you!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Fond indeed...’ answered Lukashka laughing, ‘carrying sweets + from cadets to lasses! Eh, you old...’ + </p> + <p> + ‘That’s not true, not true! ... Oh, Mark,’ and the old man + burst out laughing. ‘And how that devil begged me. “Go,” + he said, “and arrange it.” He offered me a gun! But no. I’d + have managed it, but I feel for you. Now tell us where have you been?’ + And the old man began speaking in Tartar. + </p> + <p> + Lukashka answered him promptly. + </p> + <p> + Ergushov, who did not know much Tartar, only occasionally put in a word in + Russian: ‘What I say is he’s driven away the horses. I know it + for a fact,’ he chimed in. + </p> + <p> + ‘Girey and I went together.’ (His speaking of Girey Khan as ‘Girey’ + was, to the Cossack mind, evidence of his boldness.) ‘Just beyond + the river he kept bragging that he knew the whole of the steppe and would + lead the way straight, but we rode on and the night was dark, and my Girey + lost his way and began wandering in a circle without getting anywhere: + couldn’t find the village, and there we were. We must have gone too + much to the right. I believe we wandered about well—nigh till + midnight. Then, thank goodness, we heard dogs howling.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Fools!’ said Daddy Eroshka. ‘There now, we too used to lose + our way in the steppe. (Who the devil can follow it?) But I used to ride + up a hillock and start howling like the wolves, like this!’ He + placed his hands before his mouth, and howled like a pack of wolves, all + on one note. ‘The dogs would answer at once ... Well, go on—so + you found them?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘We soon led them away! Nazarka was nearly caught by some Nogay women, he + was!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Caught indeed,’ Nazarka, who had just come back, said in an injured + tone. + </p> + <p> + ‘We rode off again, and again Girey lost his way and almost landed us + among the sand-drifts. We thought we were just getting to the Terek but we + were riding away from it all the time!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘You should have steered by the stars,’ said Daddy Eroshka. + </p> + <p> + ‘That’s what I say,’ interjected Ergushov, + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes, steer when all is black; I tried and tried all about... and at last + I put the bridle on one of the mares and let my own horse go free—thinking + he’ll lead us out, and what do you think! he just gave a snort or + two with his nose to the ground, galloped ahead, and led us straight to + our village. Thank goodness! It was getting quite light. We barely had + time to hide them in the forest. Nagim came across the river and took them + away.’ + </p> + <p> + Ergushov shook his head. ‘It’s just what I said. Smart. Did + you get much for them?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘It’s all here,’ said Lukashka, slapping his pocket. + </p> + <p> + Just then his mother came into the room, and Lukashka did not finish what + he was saying. + </p> + <p> + ‘Drink!’ he shouted. + </p> + <p> + ‘We too, Girich and I, rode out late one night...’ began Eroshka. + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh bother, we’ll never hear the end of you!’ said Lukashka. + ‘I am going.’ And having emptied his cup and tightened the + strap of his belt he went out. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0038" id="link2HCH0038"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Chapter XXXVIII + </h2> + <p class="pfirst"> + <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">I</span>t was already dark + when Lukashka went out into the street. The autumn night was fresh and + calm. The full golden moon floated up behind the tall dark poplars that + grew on one side of the square. From the chimneys of the outhouses smoke + rose and spread above the village, mingling with the mist. Here and there + lights shone through the windows, and the air was laden with the smell of + kisyak, grape-pulp, and mist. The sounds of voices, laughter, songs, and + the cracking of seeds mingled just as they had done in the daytime, but + were now more distinct. Clusters of white kerchiefs and caps gleamed + through the darkness near the houses and by the fences. + </p> + <p> + In the square, before the shop door which was lit up and open, the black + and white figures of Cossack men and maids showed through the darkness, + and one heard from afar their loud songs and laughter and talk. The girls, + hand in hand, went round and round in a circle stepping lightly in the + dusty square. A skinny girl, the plainest of them all, set the tune: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + ‘From beyond the wood, from the forest dark, + From the garden green and the shady park, + There came out one day two young lads so gay. + Young bachelors, hey! brave and smart were they! + And they walked and walked, then stood still, each man, + And they talked and soon to dispute began! + Then a maid came out; as she came along, + Said, “To one of you I shall soon belong!” + ‘Twas the fair-faced lad got the maiden fair, + Yes, the fair-faced lad with the golden hair! + Her right hand so white in his own took he, + And he led her round for his mates to see! + And said, “Have you ever in all your life, + Met a lass as fair as my sweet little wife?”’ +</pre> + <p> + The old women stood round listening to the songs. The little boys and + girls ran about chasing one another in the dark. The men stood by, + catching at the girls as the latter moved round, and sometimes breaking + the ring and entering it. On the dark side of the doorway stood Beletski + and Olenin, in their Circassian coats and sheepskin caps, and talked + together in a style of speech unlike that of the Cossacks, in low but + distinct tones, conscious that they were attracting attention. Next to one + another in the khorovod circle moved plump little Ustenka in her red + beshmet and the stately Maryanka in her new smock and beshmet. Olenin and + Beletski were discussing how to snatch Ustenka and Maryanka out of the + ring. Beletski thought that Olenin wished only to amuse himself, but + Olenin was expecting his fate to be decided. He wanted at any cost to see + Maryanka alone that very day and to tell her everything, and ask her + whether she could and would be his wife. Although that question had long + been answered in the negative in his own mind, he hoped he would be able + to tell her all he felt, and that she would understand him. + </p> + <p> + ‘Why did you not tell me sooner?’ said Beletski. ‘I would have + got Ustenka to arrange it for you. You are such a queer fellow! ...’ + </p> + <p> + ‘What’s to be done! ... Some day, very soon, I’ll tell you all + about it. Only now, for Heaven’s sake, arrange so that she should + come to Ustenka’s.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘All right, that’s easily done! Well, Maryanka, will you belong to + the “fair-faced lad”, and not to Lukashka?’ said + Beletski, speaking to Maryanka first for propriety’s sake, but + having received no reply he went up to Ustenka and begged her to bring + Maryanka home with her. He had hardly time to finish what he was saying + before the leader began another song and the girls started pulling each + other round in the ring by the hand. + </p> + <p> + They sang: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Past the garden, by the garden, + A young man came strolling down, + Up the street and through the town. + And the first time as he passed + He did wave his strong right hand. + As the second time he passed + Waved his hat with silken band. + But the third time as he went + He stood still: before her bent. + + “How is it that thou, my dear, + My reproaches dost not fear? + In the park don’t come to walk + That we there might have a talk? + Come now, answer me, my dear, + Dost thou hold me in contempt? + Later on, thou knowest, dear, + Thou’lt get sober and repent. + Soon to woo thee I will come, + And when we shall married be + Thou wilt weep because of me!” + + “Though I knew what to reply, + Yet I dared not him deny, + No, I dared not him deny! + So into the park went I, + In the park my lad to meet, + There my dear one I did greet.” + + “Maiden dear, I bow to thee! + Take this handkerchief from me. + In thy white hand take it, see! + Say I am beloved by thee. + I don’t know at all, I fear, + What I am to give thee, dear! + To my dear I think I will + Of a shawl a present make— + And five kisses for it take.”’ +</pre> + <p> + Lukashka and Nazarka broke into the ring and started walking about among + the girls. Lukashka joined in the singing, taking seconds in his clear + voice as he walked in the middle of the ring swinging his arms. ‘Well, + come in, one of you!’ he said. The other girls pushed Maryanka, but + she would not enter the ring. The sound of shrill laughter, slaps, kisses, + and whispers mingled with the singing. + </p> + <p> + As he went past Olenin, Lukashka gave a friendly nod. + </p> + <p> + ‘Dmitri Andreich! Have you too come to have a look?’ he said. + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes,’ answered Olenin dryly. + </p> + <p> + Beletski stooped and whispered something into Ustenka’s ear. She had + not time to reply till she came round again, when she said: + </p> + <p> + ‘All right, we’ll come.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘And Maryanka too?’ + </p> + <p> + Olenin stooped towards Maryanka. ‘You’ll come? Please do, if + only for a minute. I must speak to you.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘If the other girls come, I will.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Will you answer my question?’ said he, bending towards her. ‘You + are in good spirits to-day.’ + </p> + <p> + She had already moved past him. He went after her. + </p> + <p> + ‘Will you answer?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Answer what?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘The question I asked you the other day,’ said Olenin, stooping to + her ear. ‘Will you marry me?’ + </p> + <p> + Maryanka thought for a moment. + </p> + <p> + ‘I’ll tell you,’ said she, ‘I’ll tell you + to-night.’ + </p> + <p> + And through the darkness her eyes gleamed brightly and kindly at the young + man. + </p> + <p> + He still followed her. He enjoyed stooping closer to her. But Lukashka, + without ceasing to sing, suddenly seized her firmly by the hand and pulled + her from her place in the ring of girls into the middle. Olenin had only + time to say, “Come to Ustenka’s,” and stepped back to + his companion. + </p> + <p> + The song came to an end. Lukashka wiped his lips, Maryanka did the same, + and they kissed. “No, no, kisses five!” said Lukashka. + Chatter, laughter, and running about, succeeded to the rhythmic movements + and sound. Lukashka, who seemed to have drunk a great deal, began to + distribute sweetmeats to the girls. + </p> + <p> + “I offer them to everyone!” he said with proud, comically + pathetic self-admiration. “But anyone who goes after soldiers goes + out of the ring!” he suddenly added, with an angry glance at Olenin. + </p> + <p> + The girls grabbed his sweetmeats from him, and, laughing, struggled for + them among themselves. Beletski and Olenin stepped aside. + </p> + <p> + Lukashka, as if ashamed of his generosity, took off his cap and wiping his + forehead with his sleeve came up to Maryanka and Ustenka. + </p> + <p> + “Answer me, my dear, dost thou hold me in contempt?” he said + in the words of the song they had just been singing, and turning to + Maryanka he angrily repeated the words: “Dost thou hold me in + contempt? When we shall married be thou wilt weep because of me!” he + added, embracing Ustenka and Maryanka both together. + </p> + <p> + Ustenka tore herself away, and swinging her arm gave him such a blow on + the back that she hurt her hand. + </p> + <p> + “Well, are you going to have another turn?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “The other girls may if they like,” answered Ustenka, “but + I am going home and Maryanka was coming to our house too.” + </p> + <p> + With his arm still round her, Lukashka led Maryanka away from the crowd to + the darker corner of a house. + </p> + <p> + “Don’t go, Maryanka,” he said, “let’s have + some fun for the last time. Go home and I will come to you!” + </p> + <p> + “What am I to do at home? Holidays are meant for merrymaking. I am + going to Ustenka’s,” replied Maryanka. + </p> + <p> + ‘I’ll marry you all the same, you know!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘All right,’ said Maryanka, ‘we shall see when the time comes.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘So you are going,’ said Lukashka sternly, and, pressing her close, + he kissed her on the cheek. + </p> + <p> + ‘There, leave off! Don’t bother,’ and Maryanka, wrenching + herself from his arms, moved away. + </p> + <p> + ‘Ah my girl, it will turn out badly,’ said Lukashka reproachfully + and stood still, shaking his head. ‘Thou wilt weep because of me...’ + and turning away from her he shouted to the other girls: + </p> + <p> + ‘Now then! Play away!’ + </p> + <p> + What he had said seemed to have frightened and vexed Maryanka. She + stopped, ‘What will turn out badly?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Why, that!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘That what?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Why, that you keep company with a soldier-lodger and no longer care for + me!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I’ll care just as long as I choose. You’re not my father, nor + my mother. What do you want? I’ll care for whom I like!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Well, all right...’ said Lukashka, ‘but remember!’ He + moved towards the shop. ‘Girls!’ he shouted, ‘why have + you stopped? Go on dancing. Nazarka, fetch some more chikhir.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Well, will they come?’ asked Olenin, addressing Beletski. + </p> + <p> + ‘They’ll come directly,’ replied Beletski. ‘Come along, + we must prepare the ball.’ + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0039" id="link2HCH0039"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Chapter XXXIX + </h2> + <p class="pfirst"> + <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">I</span>t was already late + in the night when Olenin came out of Beletski’s hut following + Maryanka and Ustenka. He saw in the dark street before him the gleam of + the girl’s white kerchief. The golden moon was descending towards + the steppe. A silvery mist hung over the village. All was still; there + were no lights anywhere and one heard only the receding footsteps of the + young women. Olenin’s heart beat fast. The fresh moist atmosphere + cooled his burning face. He glanced at the sky and turned to look at the + hut he had just come out of: the candle was already out. Then he again + peered through the darkness at the girls’ retreating shadows. The + white kerchief disappeared in the mist. He was afraid to remain alone, he + was so happy. He jumped down from the porch and ran after the girls. + </p> + <p> + ‘Bother you, someone may see...’ said Ustenka. + </p> + <p> + ‘Never mind!’ + </p> + <p> + Olenin ran up to Maryanka and embraced her. + </p> + <p> + Maryanka did not resist. + </p> + <p> + ‘Haven’t you kissed enough yet?’ said Ustenka. ‘Marry + and then kiss, but now you’d better wait.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Good-night, Maryanka. To-morrow I will come to see your father and tell + him. Don’t you say anything.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Why should I!’ answered Maryanka. + </p> + <p> + Both the girls started running. Olenin went on by himself thinking over + all that had happened. He had spent the whole evening alone with her in a + corner by the oven. Ustenka had not left the hut for a single moment, but + had romped about with the other girls and with Beletski all the time. + Olenin had talked in whispers to Maryanka. + </p> + <p> + ‘Will you marry me?’ he had asked. + </p> + <p> + ‘You’d deceive me and not have me,’ she replied cheerfully and + calmly. + </p> + <p> + ‘But do you love me? Tell me for God’s sake!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Why shouldn’t I love you? You don’t squint,’ answered + Maryanka, laughing and with her hard hands squeezing his.... + </p> + <p> + ‘What whi-ite, whi-i-ite, soft hands you’ve got—so like + clotted cream,’ she said. + </p> + <p> + ‘I am in earnest. Tell me, will you marry me?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Why not, if father gives me to you?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Well then remember, I shall go mad if you deceive me. To-morrow I will + tell your mother and father. I shall come and propose.’ + </p> + <p> + Maryanka suddenly burst out laughing. + </p> + <p> + ‘What’s the matter?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘It seems so funny!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘It’s true! I will buy a vineyard and a house and will enroll myself + as a Cossack.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Mind you don’t go after other women then. I am severe about that.’ + </p> + <p> + Olenin joyfully repeated all these words to himself. The memory of them + now gave him pain and now such joy that it took away his breath. The pain + was because she had remained as calm as usual while talking to him. She + did not seem at all agitated by these new conditions. It was as if she did + not trust him and did not think of the future. It seemed to him that she + only loved him for the present moment, and that in her mind there was no + future with him. He was happy because her words sounded to him true, and + she had consented to be his. ‘Yes,’ thought he to himself, + ‘we shall only understand one another when she is quite mine. For + such love there are no words. It needs life—the whole of life. + To-morrow everything will be cleared up. I cannot live like this any + longer; to-morrow I will tell everything to her father, to Beletski, and + to the whole village.’ + </p> + <p> + Lukashka, after two sleepless nights, had drunk so much at the fete that + for the first time in his life his feet would not carry him, and he slept + in Yamka’s house. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0040" id="link2HCH0040"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Chapter XL + </h2> + <p class="pfirst"> + <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>he next day Olenin + awoke earlier than usual, and immediately remembered what lay before him, + and he joyfully recalled her kisses, the pressure of her hard hands, and + her words, ‘What white hands you have!’ He jumped up and + wished to go at once to his hosts’ hut to ask for their consent to + his marriage with Maryanka. The sun had not yet risen, but it seemed that + there was an unusual bustle in the street and side-street: people were + moving about on foot and on horseback, and talking. He threw on his + Circassian coat and hastened out into the porch. His hosts were not yet + up. Five Cossacks were riding past and talking loudly together. In front + rode Lukashka on his broad-backed Kabarda horse. + </p> + <p> + The Cossacks were all speaking and shouting so that it was impossible to + make out exactly what they were saying. + </p> + <p> + ‘Ride to the Upper Post,’ shouted one. + </p> + <p> + ‘Saddle and catch us up, be quick,’ said another. + </p> + <p> + ‘It’s nearer through the other gate!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘What are you talking about?’ cried Lukashka. ‘We must go + through the middle gates, of course.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘So we must, it’s nearer that way,’ said one of the Cossacks + who was covered with dust and rode a perspiring horse. Lukashka’s + face was red and swollen after the drinking of the previous night and his + cap was pushed to the back of his head. He was calling out with authority + as though he were an officer. + </p> + <p> + ‘What is the matter? Where are you going?’ asked Olenin, with + difficulty attracting the Cossacks’ attention. + </p> + <p> + ‘We are off to catch abreks. They’re hiding among the sand-drifts. + We are just off, but there are not enough of us yet.’ + </p> + <p> + And the Cossacks continued to shout, more and more of them joining as they + rode down the street. It occurred to Olenin that it would not look well + for him to stay behind; besides he thought he could soon come back. He + dressed, loaded his gun with bullets, jumped onto his horse which Vanyusha + had saddled more or less well, and overtook the Cossacks at the village + gates. The Cossacks had dismounted, and filling a wooden bowl with chikhir + from a little cask which they had brought with them, they passed the bowl + round to one another and drank to the success of their expedition. Among + them was a smartly dressed young cornet, who happened to be in the village + and who took command of the group of nine Cossacks who had joined for the + expedition. All these Cossacks were privates, and although the cornet + assumed the airs of a commanding officer, they only obeyed Lukashka. Of + Olenin they took no notice at all, and when they had all mounted and + started, and Olenin rode up to the cornet and began asking him what was + taking place, the cornet, who was usually quite friendly, treated him with + marked condescension. It was with great difficulty that Olenin managed to + find out from him what was happening. Scouts who had been sent out to + search for abreks had come upon several hillsmen some six miles from the + village. These abreks had taken shelter in pits and had fired at the + scouts, declaring they would not surrender. A corporal who had been + scouting with two Cossacks had remained to watch the abreks, and had sent + one Cossack back to get help. + </p> + <p> + The sun was just rising. Three miles beyond the village the steppe spread + out and nothing was visible except the dry, monotonous, sandy, dismal + plain covered with the footmarks of cattle, and here and there with tufts + of withered grass, with low reeds in the flats, and rare, little-trodden + footpaths, and the camps of the nomad Nogay tribe just visible far away. + The absence of shade and the austere aspect of the place were striking. + The sun always rises and sets red in the steppe. When it is windy whole + hills of sand are carried by the wind from place to place. + </p> + <p> + When it is calm, as it was that morning, the silence, uninterrupted by any + movement or sound, is peculiarly striking. That morning in the steppe it + was quiet and dull, though the sun had already risen. It all seemed + specially soft and desolate. The air was hushed, the footfalls and the + snorting of the horses were the only sounds to be heard, and even they + quickly died away. + </p> + <p> + The men rode almost silently. A Cossack always carries his weapons so that + they neither jingle nor rattle. Jingling weapons are a terrible disgrace + to a Cossack. Two other Cossacks from the village caught the party up and + exchanged a few words. Lukashka’s horse either stumbled or caught + its foot in some grass, and became restive—which is a sign of bad + luck among the Cossacks, and at such a time was of special importance. The + others exchanged glances and turned away, trying not to notice what had + happened. Lukaskha pulled at the reins, frowned sternly, set his teeth, + and flourished his whip above his head. His good Kabarda horse, prancing + from one foot to another not knowing with which to start, seemed to wish + to fly upwards on wings. But Lukashka hit its well-fed sides with his whip + once, then again, and a third time, and the horse, showing its teeth and + spreading out its tail, snorted and reared and stepped on its hind legs a + few paces away from the others. + </p> + <p> + ‘Ah, a good steed that!’ said the cornet. + </p> + <p> + That he said steed instead of HORSE indicated special praise. + </p> + <p> + ‘A lion of a horse,’ assented one of the others, an old Cossack. + </p> + <p> + The Cossacks rode forward silently, now at a footpace, then at a trot, and + these changes were the only incidents that interrupted for a moment the + stillness and solemnity of their movements. + </p> + <p> + Riding through the steppe for about six miles, they passed nothing but one + Nogay tent, placed on a cart and moving slowly along at a distance of + about a mile from them. A Nogay family was moving from one part of the + steppe to another. Afterwards they met two tattered Nogay women with high + cheekbones, who with baskets on their backs were gathering dung left by + the cattle that wandered over the steppe. The cornet, who did not know + their language well, tried to question them, but they did not understand + him and, obviously frightened, looked at one another. + </p> + <p> + Lukashka rode up to them both, stopped his horse, and promptly uttered the + usual greeting. The Nogay women were evidently relieved, and began + speaking to him quite freely as to a brother. + </p> + <p> + ‘Ay—ay, kop abrek!’ they said plaintively, pointing in the + direction in which the Cossacks were going. Olenin understood that they + were saying, ‘Many abreks.’ + </p> + <p> + Never having seen an engagement of that kind, and having formed an idea of + them only from Daddy Eroshka’s tales, Olenin wished not to be left + behind by the Cossacks, but wanted to see it all. He admired the Cossacks, + and was on the watch, looking and listening and making his own + observations. Though he had brought his sword and a loaded gun with him, + when he noticed that the Cossacks avoided him he decided to take no part + in the action, as in his opinion his courage had already been sufficiently + proved when he was with his detachment, and also because he was very + happy. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly a shot was heard in the distance. + </p> + <p> + The cornet became excited, and began giving orders to the Cossacks as to + how they should divide and from which side they should approach. But the + Cossacks did not appear to pay any attention to these orders, listening + only to what Lukashka said and looking to him alone. Lukashka’s face + and figure were expressive of calm solemnity. He put his horse to a trot + with which the others were unable to keep pace, and screwing up his eyes + kept looking ahead. + </p> + <p> + ‘There’s a man on horseback,’ he said, reining in his horse + and keeping in line with the others. + </p> + <p> + Olenin looked intently, but could not see anything. The Cossacks soon + distinguished two riders and quietly rode straight towards them. + </p> + <p> + ‘Are those the ABREKS?’ asked Olenin. + </p> + <p> + The Cossacks did not answer his question, which appeared quite meaningless + to them. The ABREKS would have been fools to venture across the river on + horseback. + </p> + <p> + ‘That’s friend Rodka waving to us, I do believe,’ said + Lukashka, pointing to the two mounted men who were now clearly visible. + ‘Look, he’s coming to us.’ + </p> + <p> + A few minutes later it became plain that the two horsemen were the Cossack + scouts. The corporal rode up to Lukashka. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0041" id="link2HCH0041"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Chapter XLI + </h2> + <p> + |'Are they far?’ was all Lukashka said. + </p> + <p> + Just then they heard a sharp shot some thirty paces off. The corporal + smiled slightly. + </p> + <p> + ‘Our Gurka is having shots at them,’ he said, nodding in the + direction of the shot. + </p> + <p> + Having gone a few paces farther they saw Gurka sitting behind a + sand-hillock and loading his gun. To while away the time he was exchanging + shots with the ABREKS, who were behind another sand-heap. A bullet came + whistling from their side. + </p> + <p> + The cornet was pale and grew confused. Lukashka dismounted from his horse, + threw the reins to one of the other Cossacks, and went up to Gurka. Olenin + also dismounted and, bending down, followed Lukashka. They had hardly + reached Gurka when two bullets whistled above them. + </p> + <p> + Lukashka looked around laughing at Olenin and stooped a little. + </p> + <p> + ‘Look out or they will kill you, Dmitri Andreich,’ he said. ‘You’d + better go away—you have no business here.’ But Olenin wanted + absolutely to see the ABREKS. + </p> + <p> + From behind the mound he saw caps and muskets some two hundred paces off. + Suddenly a little cloud of smoke appeared from thence, and again a bullet + whistled past. The ABREKS were hiding in a marsh at the foot of the hill. + Olenin was much impressed by the place in which they sat. In reality it + was very much like the rest of the steppe, but because the ABREKS sat + there it seemed to detach itself from all the rest and to have become + distinguished. Indeed it appeared to Olenin that it was the very spot for + ABREKS to occupy. Lukashka went back to his horse and Olenin followed him. + </p> + <p> + ‘We must get a hay-cart,’ said Lukashka, ‘or they will be + killing some of us. There behind that mound is a Nogay cart with a load of + hay.’ + </p> + <p> + The cornet listened to him and the corporal agreed. The cart of hay was + fetched, and the Cossacks, hiding behind it, pushed it forward. Olenin + rode up a hillock from whence he could see everything. The hay-cart moved + on and the Cossacks crowded together behind it. The Cossacks advanced, but + the Chechens, of whom there were nine, sat with their knees in a row and + did not fire. + </p> + <p> + All was quiet. Suddenly from the Chechens arose the sound of a mournful + song, something like Daddy Eroshka’s ‘Ay day, dalalay.’ + The Chechens knew that they could not escape, and to prevent themselves + from being tempted to take to flight they had strapped themselves + together, knee to knee, had got their guns ready, and were singing their + death-song. + </p> + <p> + The Cossacks with their hay-cart drew closer and closer, and Olenin + expected the firing to begin at any moment, but the silence was only + broken by the abreks’ mournful song. Suddenly the song ceased; there + was a sharp report, a bullet struck the front of the cart, and Chechen + curses and yells broke the silence and shot followed on shot and one + bullet after another struck the cart. The Cossacks did not fire and were + now only five paces distant. + </p> + <p> + Another moment passed and the Cossacks with a whoop rushed out on both + sides from behind the cart—Lukashka in front of them. Olenin heard + only a few shots, then shouting and moans. He thought he saw smoke and + blood, and abandoning his horse and quite beside himself he ran towards + the Cossacks. Horror seemed to blind him. He could not make out anything, + but understood that all was over. Lukashka, pale as death, was holding a + wounded Chechen by the arms and shouting, ‘Don’t kill him. I’ll + take him alive!’ The Chechen was the red-haired man who had fetched + his brother’s body away after Lukashka had killed him. Lukashka was + twisting his arms. Suddenly the Chechen wrenched himself free and fired + his pistol. Lukashka fell, and blood began to flow from his stomach. He + jumped up, but fell again, swearing in Russian and in Tartar. More and + more blood appeared on his clothes and under him. Some Cossacks approached + him and began loosening his girdle. One of them, Nazarka, before beginning + to help, fumbled for some time, unable to put his sword in its sheath: it + would not go the right way. The blade of the sword was blood-stained. + </p> + <p> + The Chechens with their red hair and clipped moustaches lay dead and + hacked about. Only the one we know of, who had fired at Lukashka, though + wounded in many places was still alive. Like a wounded hawk all covered + with blood (blood was flowing from a wound under his right eye), pale and + gloomy, he looked about him with wide—open excited eyes and clenched + teeth as he crouched, dagger in hand, still prepared to defend himself. + The cornet went up to him as if intending to pass by, and with a quick + movement shot him in the ear. The Chechen started up, but it was too late, + and he fell. + </p> + <p> + The Cossacks, quite out of breath, dragged the bodies aside and took the + weapons from them. Each of the red-haired Chechens had been a man, and + each one had his own individual expression. Lukashka was carried to the + cart. He continued to swear in Russian and in Tartar. + </p> + <p> + ‘No fear, I’ll strangle him with my hands. ANNA SENI!’ he + cried, struggling. But he soon became quiet from weakness. + </p> + <p> + Olenin rode home. In the evening he was told that Lukashka was at death’s + door, but that a Tartar from beyond the river had undertaken to cure him + with herbs. + </p> + <p> + The bodies were brought to the village office. The women and the little + boys hastened to look at them. + </p> + <p> + It was growing dark when Olenin returned, and he could not collect himself + after what he had seen. But towards night memories of the evening before + came rushing to his mind. He looked out of the window, Maryanka was + passing to and fro from the house to the cowshed, putting things straight. + Her mother had gone to the vineyard and her father to the office. Olenin + could not wait till she had quite finished her work, but went out to meet + her. She was in the hut standing with her back towards him. Olenin thought + she felt shy. + </p> + <p> + ‘Maryanka,’ said he, ‘I say, Maryanka! May I come in?’ + </p> + <p> + She suddenly turned. There was a scarcely perceptible trace of tears in + her eyes and her face was beautiful in its sadness. She looked at him in + silent dignity. + </p> + <p> + Olenin again said: + </p> + <p> + ‘Maryanka, I have come—’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Leave me alone!’ she said. Her face did not change but the tears + ran down her cheeks. + </p> + <p> + ‘What are you crying for? What is it?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘What?’ she repeated in a rough voice. ‘Cossacks have been + killed, that’s what for.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Lukashka?’ said Olenin. + </p> + <p> + ‘Go away! What do you want?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Maryanka!’ said Olenin, approaching her. + </p> + <p> + ‘You will never get anything from me!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Maryanka, don’t speak like that,’ Olenin entreated. + </p> + <p> + ‘Get away. I’m sick of you!’ shouted the girl, stamping her + foot, and moved threateningly towards him. And her face expressed such + abhorrence, such contempt, and such anger that Olenin suddenly understood + that there was no hope for him, and that his first impression of this + woman’s inaccessibility had been perfectly correct. + </p> + <p> + Olenin said nothing more, but ran out of the hut. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0042" id="link2HCH0042"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Chapter XLII + </h2> + <p class="pfirst"> + <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">F</span>or two hours after + returning home he lay on his bed motionless. Then he went to his company + commander and obtained leave to visit the staff. Without taking leave of + anyone, and sending Vanyusha to settle his accounts with his landlord, he + prepared to leave for the fort where his regiment was stationed. Daddy + Eroshka was the only one to see him off. They had a drink, and then a + second, and then yet another. Again as on the night of his departure from + Moscow, a three-horsed conveyance stood waiting at the door. But Olenin + did not confer with himself as he had done then, and did not say to + himself that all he had thought and done here was ‘not it’. He + did not promise himself a new life. He loved Maryanka more than ever, and + knew that he could never be loved by her. + </p> + <p> + ‘Well, good-bye, my lad!’ said Daddy Eroshka. ‘When you go on + an expedition, be wise and listen to my words—the words of an old + man. When you are out on a raid or the like (you know I’m an old + wolf and have seen things), and when they begin firing, don’t get + into a crowd where there are many men. When you fellows get frightened you + always try to get close together with a lot of others. You think it is + merrier to be with others, but that’s where it is worst of all! They + always aim at a crowd. Now I used to keep farther away from the others and + went alone, and I’ve never been wounded. Yet what things haven’t + I seen in my day?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘But you’ve got a bullet in your back,’ remarked Vanyusha, who + was clearing up the room. + </p> + <p> + ‘That was the Cossacks fooling about,’ answered Eroshka. + </p> + <p> + ‘Cossacks? How was that?’ asked Olenin. + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, just so. We were drinking. Vanka Sitkin, one of the Cossacks, got + merry, and puff! he gave me one from his pistol just here.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes, and did it hurt?’ asked Olenin. ‘Vanyusha, will you soon + be ready?’ he added. + </p> + <p> + ‘Ah, where’s the hurry! Let me tell you. When he banged into me, the + bullet did not break the bone but remained here. And I say: “You’ve + killed me, brother. Eh! What have you done to me? I won’t let you + off! You’ll have to stand me a pailful!”’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Well, but did it hurt?’ Olenin asked again, scarcely listening to + the tale. + </p> + <p> + ‘Let me finish. He stood a pailful, and we drank it, but the blood went on + flowing. The whole room was drenched and covered with blood. Grandad + Burlak, he says, “The lad will give up the ghost. Stand a bottle of + the sweet sort, or we shall have you taken up!” They bought more + drink, and boozed and boozed—’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes, but did it hurt you much?’ Olenin asked once more. + </p> + <p> + ‘Hurt, indeed! Don’t interrupt: I don’t like it. Let me + finish. We boozed and boozed till morning, and I fell asleep on the top of + the oven, drunk. When I woke in the morning I could not unbend myself + anyhow—’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Was it very painful?’ repeated Olenin, thinking that now he would + at last get an answer to his question. + </p> + <p> + ‘Did I tell you it was painful? I did not say it was painful, but I could + not bend and could not walk.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘And then it healed up?’ said Olenin, not even laughing, so heavy + was his heart. + </p> + <p> + ‘It healed up, but the bullet is still there. Just feel it!’ And + lifting his shirt he showed his powerful back, where just near the bone a + bullet could be felt and rolled about. + </p> + <p> + ‘Feel how it rolls,’ he said, evidently amusing himself with the + bullet as with a toy. ‘There now, it has rolled to the back.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘And Lukashka, will he recover?’ asked Olenin. + </p> + <p> + ‘Heaven only knows! There’s no doctor. They’ve gone for one.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Where will they get one? From Groznoe?’ asked Olenin. ‘No, my + lad. Were I the Tsar I’d have hung all your Russian doctors long + ago. Cutting is all they know! There’s our Cossack Baklashka, no + longer a real man now that they’ve cut off his leg! That shows they’re + fools. What’s Baklashka good for now? No, my lad, in the mountains + there are real doctors. There was my chum, Vorchik, he was on an + expedition and was wounded just here in the chest. Well, your doctors gave + him up, but one of theirs came from the mountains and cured him! They + understand herbs, my lad!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Come, stop talking rubbish,’ said Olenin. ‘I’d better + send a doctor from head-quarters.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Rubbish!’ the old man said mockingly. ‘Fool, fool! Rubbish. + You’ll send a doctor!—If yours cured people, Cossacks and + Chechens would go to you for treatment, but as it is your officers and + colonels send to the mountains for doctors. Yours are all humbugs, all + humbugs.’ + </p> + <p> + Olenin did not answer. He agreed only too fully that all was humbug in the + world in which he had lived and to which he was now returning. + </p> + <p> + ‘How is Lukashka? You’ve been to see him?’ he asked. + </p> + <p> + ‘He just lies as if he were dead. He does not eat nor drink. Vodka is the + only thing his soul accepts. But as long as he drinks vodka it’s + well. I’d be sorry to lose the lad. A fine lad—a brave, like + me. I too lay dying like that once. The old women were already wailing. My + head was burning. They had already laid me out under the holy icons. So I + lay there, and above me on the oven little drummers, no bigger than this, + beat the tattoo. I shout at them and they drum all the harder.’ (The + old man laughed.) ‘The women brought our church elder. They were + getting ready to bury me. They said, “He defiled himself with + worldly unbelievers; he made merry with women; he ruined people; he did + not fast, and he played the balalayka. Confess,” they said. So I + began to confess. “I’ve sinned!” I said. Whatever the + priest said, I always answered “I’ve sinned.” He began + to ask me about the balalayka. “Where is the accursed thing,” + he says. “Show it me and smash it.” But I say, “I’ve + not got it.” I’d hidden it myself in a net in the outhouse. I + knew they could not find it. So they left me. Yet after all I recovered. + When I went for my BALALAYKA—What was I saying?’ he continued. + ‘Listen to me, and keep farther away from the other men or you’ll + get killed foolishly. I feel for you, truly: you are a drinker—I + love you! And fellows like you like riding up the mounds. There was one + who lived here who had come from Russia, he always would ride up the + mounds (he called the mounds so funnily, “hillocks”). Whenever + he saw a mound, off he’d gallop. Once he galloped off that way and + rode to the top quite pleased, but a Chechen fired at him and killed him! + Ah, how well they shoot from their gun-rests, those Chechens! Some of them + shoot even better than I do. I don’t like it when a fellow gets + killed so foolishly! Sometimes I used to look at your soldiers and wonder + at them. There’s foolishness for you! They go, the poor fellows, all + in a clump, and even sew red collars to their coats! How can they help + being hit! One gets killed, they drag him away and another takes his + place! What foolishness!’ the old man repeated, shaking his head. + ‘Why not scatter, and go one by one? So you just go like that and + they won’t notice you. That’s what you must do.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Well, thank you! Good-bye, Daddy. God willing we may meet again,’ + said Olenin, getting up and moving towards the passage. + </p> + <p> + The old man, who was sitting on the floor, did not rise. + </p> + <p> + ‘Is that the way one says “Good-bye”? Fool, fool!’ he + began. ‘Oh dear, what has come to people? We’ve kept company, + kept company for well-nigh a year, and now “Good-bye!” and off + he goes! Why, I love you, and how I pity you! You are so forlorn, always + alone, always alone. You’re somehow so unsociable. At times I can’t + sleep for thinking about you. I am so sorry for you. As the song has it: + </p> + <p> + “It is very hard, dear brother, In a foreign land to live.” + </p> + <p> + So it is with you.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Well, good-bye,’ said Olenin again. + </p> + <p> + The old man rose and held out his hand. Olenin pressed it and turned to + go. + </p> + <p> + ‘Give us your mug, your mug!’ + </p> + <p> + And the old man took Olenin by the head with both hands and kissed him + three times with wet moustaches and lips, and began to cry. + </p> + <p> + ‘I love you, good-bye!’ + </p> + <p> + Olenin got into the cart. + </p> + <p> + ‘Well, is that how you’re going? You might give me something for a + remembrance. Give me a gun! What do you want two for?’ said the old + man, sobbing quite sincerely. + </p> + <p> + Olenin got out a musket and gave it to him. + </p> + <p> + ‘What a lot you’ve given the old fellow,’ murmured Vanyusha, + ‘he’ll never have enough! A regular old beggar. They are all + such irregular people,’ he remarked, as he wrapped himself in his + overcoat and took his seat on the box. + </p> + <p> + ‘Hold your tongue, swine!’ exclaimed the old man, laughing. ‘What + a stingy fellow!’ + </p> + <p> + Maryanka came out of the cowshed, glanced indifferently at the cart, bowed + and went towards the hut. + </p> + <p> + ‘LA FILLE!’ said Vanyusha, with a wink, and burst out into a silly + laugh. + </p> + <p> + ‘Drive on!’ shouted Olenin, angrily. + </p> + <p> + ‘Good-bye, my lad! Good-bye. I won’t forget you!’ shouted + Eroshka. + </p> + <p> + Olenin turned round. Daddy Eroshka was talking to Maryanka, evidently + about his own affairs, and neither the old man nor the girl looked at + Olenin. + </p> + <p> + The End + </p> + <div style="height: 6em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + + <pre> + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Cossacks, by Leo Tolstoy + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE COSSACKS *** + +***** This file should be named 4761-h.htm or 4761-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/4/7/6/4761/ + + +Etext produced by Steve Harris, Charles Franks and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team. + +HTML file produced by David Widger + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions 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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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 + + +Title: The Cossacks + +Author: Leo Tolstoy + +Translator: Louise and Aylmer Maude + +Release Date: January 18, 2009 [EBook #4761] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE COSSACKS *** + + + + +Produced by Steve Harris, Charles Franks and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team. + + + + + +THE COSSACKS + +A Tale of 1852 + + +By + +Leo Tolstoy (1863) + + + +Translated by Louise and Aylmer Maude + + + + +Chapter I + + +All is quiet in Moscow. The squeak of wheels is seldom heard in the +snow-covered street. There are no lights left in the windows and the +street lamps have been extinguished. Only the sound of bells, borne +over the city from the church towers, suggests the approach of morning. +The streets are deserted. At rare intervals a night-cabman's sledge +kneads up the snow and sand in the street as the driver makes his way +to another corner where he falls asleep while waiting for a fare. An +old woman passes by on her way to church, where a few wax candles burn +with a red light reflected on the gilt mountings of the icons. Workmen +are already getting up after the long winter night and going to their +work--but for the gentlefolk it is still evening. + +From a window in Chevalier's Restaurant a light--illegal at that +hour--is still to be seen through a chink in the shutter. At the +entrance a carriage, a sledge, and a cabman's sledge, stand close +together with their backs to the curbstone. A three-horse sledge from +the post-station is there also. A yard-porter muffled up and pinched +with cold is sheltering behind the corner of the house. + +'And what's the good of all this jawing?' thinks the footman who sits +in the hall weary and haggard. 'This always happens when I'm on duty.' +From the adjoining room are heard the voices of three young men, +sitting there at a table on which are wine and the remains of supper. +One, a rather plain, thin, neat little man, sits looking with tired +kindly eyes at his friend, who is about to start on a journey. Another, +a tall man, lies on a sofa beside a table on which are empty bottles, +and plays with his watch-key. A third, wearing a short, fur-lined coat, +is pacing up and down the room stopping now and then to crack an almond +between his strong, rather thick, but well-tended fingers. He keeps +smiling at something and his face and eyes are all aglow. He speaks +warmly and gesticulates, but evidently does not find the words he wants +and those that occur to him seem to him inadequate to express what has +risen to his heart. + + +'Now I can speak out fully,' said the traveller. 'I don't want to +defend myself, but I should like you at least to understand me as I +understand myself, and not look at the matter superficially. You say I +have treated her badly,' he continued, addressing the man with the +kindly eyes who was watching him. + +'Yes, you are to blame,' said the latter, and his look seemed to +express still more kindliness and weariness. + +'I know why you say that,' rejoined the one who was leaving. 'To be +loved is in your opinion as great a happiness as to love, and if a man +obtains it, it is enough for his whole life.' + +'Yes, quite enough, my dear fellow, more than enough!' confirmed the +plain little man, opening and shutting his eyes. + +'But why shouldn't the man love too?' said the traveller thoughtfully, +looking at his friend with something like pity. 'Why shouldn't one +love? Because love doesn't come ... No, to be beloved is a misfortune. +It is a misfortune to feel guilty because you do not give something you +cannot give. O my God!' he added, with a gesture of his arm. 'If it all +happened reasonably, and not all topsy-turvy--not in our way but in a +way of its own! Why, it's as if I had stolen that love! You think so +too, don't deny it. You must think so. But will you believe it, of all +the horrid and stupid things I have found time to do in my life--and +there are many--this is one I do not and cannot repent of. Neither at +the beginning nor afterwards did I lie to myself or to her. It seemed +to me that I had at last fallen in love, but then I saw that it was an +involuntary falsehood, and that that was not the way to love, and I +could not go on, but she did. Am I to blame that I couldn't? What was I +to do?' + +'Well, it's ended now!' said his friend, lighting a cigar to master his +sleepiness. 'The fact is that you have not yet loved and do not know +what love is.' + +The man in the fur-lined coat was going to speak again, and put his +hands to his head, but could not express what he wanted to say. + +'Never loved! ... Yes, quite true, I never have! But after all, I have +within me a desire to love, and nothing could be stronger than that +desire! But then, again, does such love exist? There always remains +something incomplete. Ah well! What's the use of talking? I've made an +awful mess of life! But anyhow it's all over now; you are quite right. +And I feel that I am beginning a new life.' + +'Which you will again make a mess of,' said the man who lay on the sofa +playing with his watch-key. But the traveller did not listen to him. + +'I am sad and yet glad to go,' he continued. 'Why I am sad I don't +know.' + +And the traveller went on talking about himself, without noticing that +this did not interest the others as much as it did him. A man is never +such an egotist as at moments of spiritual ecstasy. At such times it +seems to him that there is nothing on earth more splendid and +interesting than himself. + +'Dmitri Andreich! The coachman won't wait any longer!' said a young +serf, entering the room in a sheepskin coat, with a scarf tied round +his head. 'The horses have been standing since twelve, and it's now +four o'clock!' + +Dmitri Andreich looked at his serf, Vanyusha. The scarf round +Vanyusha's head, his felt boots and sleepy face, seemed to be calling +his master to a new life of labour, hardship, and activity. + +'True enough! Good-bye!' said he, feeling for the unfastened hook and +eye on his coat. + +In spite of advice to mollify the coachman by another tip, he put on +his cap and stood in the middle of the room. The friends kissed once, +then again, and after a pause, a third time. The man in the fur-lined +coat approached the table and emptied a champagne glass, then took the +plain little man's hand and blushed. + +'Ah well, I will speak out all the same ... I must and will be frank +with you because I am fond of you ... Of course you love her--I always +thought so--don't you?' + +'Yes,' answered his friend, smiling still more gently. + +'And perhaps...' + +'Please sir, I have orders to put out the candles,' said the sleepy +attendant, who had been listening to the last part of the conversation +and wondering why gentlefolk always talk about one and the same thing. +'To whom shall I make out the bill? To you, sir?' he added, knowing +whom to address and turning to the tall man. + +'To me,' replied the tall man. 'How much?' + +'Twenty-six rubles.' + +The tall man considered for a moment, but said nothing and put the bill +in his pocket. + +The other two continued their talk. + +'Good-bye, you are a capital fellow!' said the short plain man with the +mild eyes. Tears filled the eyes of both. They stepped into the porch. + +'Oh, by the by,' said the traveller, turning with a blush to the tall +man, 'will you settle Chevalier's bill and write and let me know?' + +'All right, all right!' said the tall man, pulling on his gloves. 'How +I envy you!' he added quite unexpectedly when they were out in the +porch. + +The traveller got into his sledge, wrapped his coat about him, and +said: 'Well then, come along!' He even moved a little to make room in +the sledge for the man who said he envied him--his voice trembled. + +'Good-bye, Mitya! I hope that with God's help you...' said the tall +one. But his wish was that the other would go away quickly, and so he +could not finish the sentence. + +They were silent a moment. Then someone again said, 'Good-bye,' and a +voice cried, 'Ready,' and the coachman touched up the horses. + +'Hy, Elisar!' One of the friends called out, and the other coachman and +the sledge-drivers began moving, clicking their tongues and pulling at +the reins. Then the stiffened carriage-wheels rolled squeaking over the +frozen snow. + +'A fine fellow, that Olenin!' said one of the friends. 'But what an +idea to go to the Caucasus--as a cadet, too! I wouldn't do it for +anything. ... Are you dining at the club to-morrow?' + +'Yes.' + +They separated. + +The traveller felt warm, his fur coat seemed too hot. He sat on the +bottom of the sledge and unfastened his coat, and the three shaggy +post-horses dragged themselves out of one dark street into another, +past houses he had never before seen. It seemed to Olenin that only +travellers starting on a long journey went through those streets. All +was dark and silent and dull around him, but his soul was full of +memories, love, regrets, and a pleasant tearful feeling. + + + + +Chapter II + + +'I'm fond of them, very fond! ... First-rate fellows! ... Fine!' he +kept repeating, and felt ready to cry. But why he wanted to cry, who +were the first-rate fellows he was so fond of--was more than he quite +knew. Now and then he looked round at some house and wondered why it +was so curiously built; sometimes he began wondering why the post-boy +and Vanyusha, who were so different from himself, sat so near, and +together with him were being jerked about and swayed by the tugs the +side-horses gave at the frozen traces, and again he repeated: 'First +rate ... very fond!' and once he even said: 'And how it seizes one ... +excellent!' and wondered what made him say it. 'Dear me, am I drunk?' +he asked himself. He had had a couple of bottles of wine, but it was +not the wine alone that was having this effect on Olenin. He remembered +all the words of friendship heartily, bashfully, spontaneously (as he +believed) addressed to him on his departure. He remembered the clasp of +hands, glances, the moments of silence, and the sound of a voice +saying, 'Good-bye, Mitya!' when he was already in the sledge. He +remembered his own deliberate frankness. And all this had a touching +significance for him. Not only friends and relatives, not only people +who had been indifferent to him, but even those who did not like him, +seemed to have agreed to become fonder of him, or to forgive him, +before his departure, as people do before confession or death. 'Perhaps +I shall not return from the Caucasus,' he thought. And he felt that he +loved his friends and some one besides. He was sorry for himself. But +it was not love for his friends that so stirred and uplifted his heart +that he could not repress the meaningless words that seemed to rise of +themselves to his lips; nor was it love for a woman (he had never yet +been in love) that had brought on this mood. Love for himself, love +full of hope--warm young love for all that was good in his own soul +(and at that moment it seemed to him that there was nothing but good in +it)--compelled him to weep and to mutter incoherent words. + +Olenin was a youth who had never completed his university course, never +served anywhere (having only a nominal post in some government office +or other), who had squandered half his fortune and had reached the age +of twenty-four without having done anything or even chosen a career. He +was what in Moscow society is termed un jeune homme. + +At the age of eighteen he was free--as only rich young Russians in the +'forties who had lost their parents at an early age could be. Neither +physical nor moral fetters of any kind existed for him; he could do as +he liked, lacking nothing and bound by nothing. Neither relatives, nor +fatherland, nor religion, nor wants, existed for him. He believed in +nothing and admitted nothing. But although he believed in nothing he +was not a morose or blase young man, nor self-opinionated, but on the +contrary continually let himself be carried away. He had come to the +conclusion that there is no such thing as love, yet his heart always +overflowed in the presence of any young and attractive woman. He had +long been aware that honours and position were nonsense, yet +involuntarily he felt pleased when at a ball Prince Sergius came up and +spoke to him affably. But he yielded to his impulses only in so far as +they did not limit his freedom. As soon as he had yielded to any +influence and became conscious of its leading on to labour and +struggle, he instinctively hastened to free himself from the feeling or +activity into which he was being drawn and to regain his freedom. In +this way he experimented with society-life, the civil service, farming, +music--to which at one time he intended to devote his life--and even +with the love of women in which he did not believe. He meditated on the +use to which he should devote that power of youth which is granted to +man only once in a lifetime: that force which gives a man the power of +making himself, or even--as it seemed to him--of making the universe, +into anything he wishes: should it be to art, to science, to love of +woman, or to practical activities? It is true that some people are +devoid of this impulse, and on entering life at once place their necks +under the first yoke that offers itself and honestly labour under it +for the rest of their lives. But Olenin was too strongly conscious of +the presence of that all-powerful God of Youth--of that capacity to be +entirely transformed into an aspiration or idea--the capacity to wish +and to do--to throw oneself headlong into a bottomless abyss without +knowing why or wherefore. He bore this consciousness within himself, +was proud of it and, without knowing it, was happy in that +consciousness. Up to that time he had loved only himself, and could not +help loving himself, for he expected nothing but good of himself and +had not yet had time to be disillusioned. On leaving Moscow he was in +that happy state of mind in which a young man, conscious of past +mistakes, suddenly says to himself, 'That was not the real thing.' All +that had gone before was accidental and unimportant. Till then he had +not really tried to live, but now with his departure from Moscow a new +life was beginning--a life in which there would be no mistakes, no +remorse, and certainly nothing but happiness. + +It is always the case on a long journey that till the first two or +three stages have been passed imagination continues to dwell on the +place left behind, but with the first morning on the road it leaps to +the end of the journey and there begins building castles in the air. So +it happened to Olenin. + +After leaving the town behind, he gazed at the snowy fields and felt +glad to be alone in their midst. Wrapping himself in his fur coat, he +lay at the bottom of the sledge, became tranquil, and fell into a doze. +The parting with his friends had touched him deeply, and memories of +that last winter spent in Moscow and images of the past, mingled with +vague thoughts and regrets, rose unbidden in his imagination. + +He remembered the friend who had seen him off and his relations with +the girl they had talked about. The girl was rich. "How could he love +her knowing that she loved me?" thought he, and evil suspicions crossed +his mind. "There is much dishonesty in men when one comes to reflect." +Then he was confronted by the question: "But really, how is it I have +never been in love? Every one tells me that I never have. Can it be +that I am a moral monstrosity?" And he began to recall all his +infatuations. He recalled his entry into society, and a friend's sister +with whom he spent several evenings at a table with a lamp on it which +lit up her slender fingers busy with needlework, and the lower part of +her pretty delicate face. He recalled their conversations that dragged +on like the game in which one passes on a stick which one keeps alight +as long as possible, and the general awkwardness and restraint and his +continual feeling of rebellion at all that conventionality. Some voice +had always whispered: "That's not it, that's not it," and so it had +proved. Then he remembered a ball and the mazurka he danced with the +beautiful D----. "How much in love I was that night and how happy! And +how hurt and vexed I was next morning when I woke and felt myself still +free! Why does not love come and bind me hand and foot?" thought he. +"No, there is no such thing as love! That neighbour who used to tell +me, as she told Dubrovin and the Marshal, that she loved the stars, was +not IT either." And now his farming and work in the country recurred to +his mind, and in those recollections also there was nothing to dwell on +with pleasure. "Will they talk long of my departure?" came into his +head; but who "they" were he did not quite know. Next came a thought +that made him wince and mutter incoherently. It was the recollection of +M. Cappele the tailor, and the six hundred and seventy-eight rubles he +still owed him, and he recalled the words in which he had begged him to +wait another year, and the look of perplexity and resignation which had +appeared on the tailor's face. 'Oh, my God, my God!' he repeated, +wincing and trying to drive away the intolerable thought. 'All the same +and in spite of everything she loved me,' thought he of the girl they +had talked about at the farewell supper. 'Yes, had I married her I +should not now be owing anything, and as it is I am in debt to +Vasilyev.' Then he remembered the last night he had played with +Vasilyev at the club (just after leaving her), and he recalled his +humiliating requests for another game and the other's cold refusal. 'A +year's economizing and they will all be paid, and the devil take +them!'... But despite this assurance he again began calculating his +outstanding debts, their dates, and when he could hope to pay them off. +'And I owe something to Morell as well as to Chevalier,' thought he, +recalling the night when he had run up so large a debt. It was at a +carousel at the gipsies arranged by some fellows from Petersburg: +Sashka B---, an aide-de-camp to the Tsar, Prince D---, and that pompous +old----. 'How is it those gentlemen are so self-satisfied?' thought he, +'and by what right do they form a clique to which they think others +must be highly flattered to be admitted? Can it be because they are on +the Emperor's staff? Why, it's awful what fools and scoundrels they +consider other people to be! But I showed them that I at any rate, on +the contrary, do not at all want their intimacy. All the same, I fancy +Andrew, the steward, would be amazed to know that I am on familiar +terms with a man like Sashka B---, a colonel and an aide-de-camp to the +Tsar! Yes, and no one drank more than I did that evening, and I taught +the gipsies a new song and everyone listened to it. Though I have done +many foolish things, all the same I am a very good fellow,' thought he. + +Morning found him at the third post-stage. He drank tea, and himself +helped Vanyusha to move his bundles and trunks and sat down among them, +sensible, erect, and precise, knowing where all his belongings were, +how much money he had and where it was, where he had put his passport +and the post-horse requisition and toll-gate papers, and it all seemed +to him so well arranged that he grew quite cheerful and the long +journey before him seemed an extended pleasure-trip. + +All that morning and noon he was deep in calculations of how many +versts he had travelled, how many remained to the next stage, how many +to the next town, to the place where he would dine, to the place where +he would drink tea, and to Stavropol, and what fraction of the whole +journey was already accomplished. He also calculated how much money he +had with him, how much would be left over, how much would pay off all +his debts, and what proportion of his income he would spend each month. +Towards evening, after tea, he calculated that to Stavropol there still +remained seven-elevenths of the whole journey, that his debts would +require seven months' economy and one-eighth of his whole fortune; and +then, tranquillized, he wrapped himself up, lay down in the sledge, and +again dozed off. His imagination was now turned to the future: to the +Caucasus. All his dreams of the future were mingled with pictures of +Amalat-Beks, Circassian women, mountains, precipices, terrible +torrents, and perils. All these things were vague and dim, but the love +of fame and the danger of death furnished the interest of that future. +Now, with unprecedented courage and a strength that amazed everyone, he +slew and subdued an innumerable host of hillsmen; now he was himself a +hillsman and with them was maintaining their independence against the +Russians. As soon as he pictured anything definite, familiar Moscow +figures always appeared on the scene. Sashka B---fights with the +Russians or the hillsmen against him. Even the tailor Cappele in some +strange way takes part in the conqueror's triumph. Amid all this he +remembered his former humiliations, weaknesses, and mistakes, and the +recollection was not disagreeable. It was clear that there among the +mountains, waterfalls, fair Circassians, and dangers, such mistakes +could not recur. Having once made full confession to himself there was +an end of it all. One other vision, the sweetest of them all, mingled +with the young man's every thought of the future--the vision of a woman. + +And there, among the mountains, she appeared to his imagination as a +Circassian slave, a fine figure with a long plait of hair and deep +submissive eyes. He pictured a lonely hut in the mountains, and on the +threshold she stands awaiting him when, tired and covered with dust, +blood, and fame, he returns to her. He is conscious of her kisses, her +shoulders, her sweet voice, and her submissiveness. She is enchanting, +but uneducated, wild, and rough. In the long winter evenings he begins +her education. She is clever and gifted and quickly acquires all the +knowledge essential. Why not? She can quite easily learn foreign +languages, read the French masterpieces and understand them: Notre Dame +de Paris, for instance, is sure to please her. She can also speak +French. In a drawing-room she can show more innate dignity than a lady +of the highest society. She can sing, simply, powerfully, and +passionately.... 'Oh, what nonsense!' said he to himself. But here they +reached a post-station and he had to change into another sledge and +give some tips. But his fancy again began searching for the 'nonsense' +he had relinquished, and again fair Circassians, glory, and his return +to Russia with an appointment as aide-de-camp and a lovely wife rose +before his imagination. 'But there's no such thing as love,' said he to +himself. 'Fame is all rubbish. But the six hundred and seventy-eight +rubles? ... And the conquered land that will bring me more wealth than +I need for a lifetime? It will not be right though to keep all that +wealth for myself. I shall have to distribute it. But to whom? Well, +six hundred and seventy-eight rubles to Cappele and then we'll see.' +... Quite vague visions now cloud his mind, and only Vanyusha's voice +and the interrupted motion of the sledge break his healthy youthful +slumber. Scarcely conscious, he changes into another sledge at the next +stage and continues his journey. + +Next morning everything goes on just the same: the same kind of +post-stations and tea-drinking, the same moving horses' cruppers, the +same short talks with Vanyusha, the same vague dreams and drowsiness, +and the same tired, healthy, youthful sleep at night. + + + + +Chapter III + + +The farther Olenin travelled from Central Russia the farther he left +his memories behind, and the nearer he drew to the Caucasus the lighter +his heart became. "I'll stay away for good and never return to show +myself in society," was a thought that sometimes occurred to him. +"These people whom I see here are NOT people. None of them know me and +none of them can ever enter the Moscow society I was in or find out +about my past. And no one in that society will ever know what I am +doing, living among these people." And quite a new feeling of freedom +from his whole past came over him among the rough beings he met on the +road whom he did not consider to be PEOPLE in the sense that his Moscow +acquaintances were. The rougher the people and the fewer the signs of +civilization the freer he felt. Stavropol, through which he had to +pass, irked him. The signboards, some of them even in French, ladies in +carriages, cabs in the marketplace, and a gentleman wearing a fur cloak +and tall hat who was walking along the boulevard and staring at the +passersby, quite upset him. "Perhaps these people know some of my +acquaintances," he thought; and the club, his tailor, cards, society +... came back to his mind. But after Stavropol everything was +satisfactory--wild and also beautiful and warlike, and Olenin felt +happier and happier. All the Cossacks, post-boys, and post-station +masters seemed to him simple folk with whom he could jest and converse +simply, without having to consider to what class they belonged. They +all belonged to the human race which, without his thinking about it, +all appeared dear to Olenin, and they all treated him in a friendly way. + +Already in the province of the Don Cossacks his sledge had been +exchanged for a cart, and beyond Stavropol it became so warm that +Olenin travelled without wearing his fur coat. It was already +spring--an unexpected joyous spring for Olenin. At night he was no +longer allowed to leave the Cossack villages, and they said it was +dangerous to travel in the evening. Vanyusha began to be uneasy, and +they carried a loaded gun in the cart. Olenin became still happier. At +one of the post-stations the post-master told of a terrible murder that +had been committed recently on the high road. They began to meet armed +men. "So this is where it begins!" thought Olenin, and kept expecting +to see the snowy mountains of which mention was so often made. Once, +towards evening, the Nogay driver pointed with his whip to the +mountains shrouded in clouds. Olenin looked eagerly, but it was dull +and the mountains were almost hidden by the clouds. Olenin made out +something grey and white and fleecy, but try as he would he could find +nothing beautiful in the mountains of which he had so often read and +heard. The mountains and the clouds appeared to him quite alike, and he +thought the special beauty of the snow peaks, of which he had so often +been told, was as much an invention as Bach's music and the love of +women, in which he did not believe. So he gave up looking forward to +seeing the mountains. But early next morning, being awakened in his +cart by the freshness of the air, he glanced carelessly to the right. +The morning was perfectly clear. Suddenly he saw, about twenty paces +away as it seemed to him at first glance, pure white gigantic masses +with delicate contours, the distinct fantastic outlines of their +summits showing sharply against the far-off sky. When he had realized +the distance between himself and them and the sky and the whole +immensity of the mountains, and felt the infinitude of all that beauty, +he became afraid that it was but a phantasm or a dream. He gave himself +a shake to rouse himself, but the mountains were still the same. + +"What's that! What is it?" he said to the driver. + +"Why, the mountains," answered the Nogay driver with indifference. + +"And I too have been looking at them for a long while," said Vanyusha. +"Aren't they fine? They won't believe it at home." + +The quick progress of the three-horsed cart along the smooth road +caused the mountains to appear to be running along the horizon, while +their rosy crests glittered in the light of the rising sun. At first +Olenin was only astonished at the sight, then gladdened by it; but +later on, gazing more and more intently at that snow-peaked chain that +seemed to rise not from among other black mountains, but straight out +of the plain, and to glide away into the distance, he began by slow +degrees to be penetrated by their beauty and at length to FEEL the +mountains. From that moment all he saw, all he thought, and all he +felt, acquired for him a new character, sternly majestic like the +mountains! All his Moscow reminiscences, shame, and repentance, and his +trivial dreams about the Caucasus, vanished and did not return. 'Now it +has begun,' a solemn voice seemed to say to him. The road and the +Terek, just becoming visible in the distance, and the Cossack villages +and the people, all no longer appeared to him as a joke. He looked at +himself or Vanyusha, and again thought of the mountains. ... Two +Cossacks ride by, their guns in their cases swinging rhythmically +behind their backs, the white and bay legs of their horses mingling +confusedly ... and the mountains! Beyond the Terek rises the smoke from +a Tartar village... and the mountains! The sun has risen and glitters +on the Terek, now visible beyond the reeds ... and the mountains! From +the village comes a Tartar wagon, and women, beautiful young women, +pass by... and the mountains! 'Abreks canter about the plain, and here +am I driving along and do not fear them! I have a gun, and strength, +and youth... and the mountains!' + + + + +Chapter IV + + +That whole part of the Terek line (about fifty miles) along which lie +the villages of the Grebensk Cossacks is uniform in character both as +to country and inhabitants. The Terek, which separates the Cossacks +from the mountaineers, still flows turbid and rapid though already +broad and smooth, always depositing greyish sand on its low reedy right +bank and washing away the steep, though not high, left bank, with its +roots of century-old oaks, its rotting plane trees, and young +brushwood. On the right bank lie the villages of pro-Russian, though +still somewhat restless, Tartars. Along the left bank, back half a mile +from the river and standing five or six miles apart from one another, +are Cossack villages. In olden times most of these villages were +situated on the banks of the river; but the Terek, shifting northward +from the mountains year by year, washed away those banks, and now there +remain only the ruins of the old villages and of the gardens of pear +and plum trees and poplars, all overgrown with blackberry bushes and +wild vines. No one lives there now, and one only sees the tracks of the +deer, the wolves, the hares, and the pheasants, who have learned to +love these places. From village to village runs a road cut through the +forest as a cannon-shot might fly. Along the roads are cordons of +Cossacks and watch-towers with sentinels in them. Only a narrow strip +about seven hundred yards wide of fertile wooded soil belongs to the +Cossacks. To the north of it begin the sand-drifts of the Nogay or +Mozdok steppes, which fetch far to the north and run, Heaven knows +where, into the Trukhmen, Astrakhan, and Kirghiz-Kaisatsk steppes. To +the south, beyond the Terek, are the Great Chechnya river, the +Kochkalov range, the Black Mountains, yet another range, and at last +the snowy mountains, which can just be seen but have never yet been +scaled. In this fertile wooded strip, rich in vegetation, has dwelt as +far back as memory runs the fine warlike and prosperous Russian tribe +belonging to the sect of Old Believers, and called the Grebensk +Cossacks. + +Long long ago their Old Believer ancestors fled from Russia and settled +beyond the Terek among the Chechens on the Greben, the first range of +wooded mountains of Chechnya. Living among the Chechens the Cossacks +intermarried with them and adopted the manners and customs of the hill +tribes, though they still retained the Russian language in all its +purity, as well as their Old Faith. A tradition, still fresh among +them, declares that Tsar Ivan the Terrible came to the Terek, sent for +their Elders, and gave them the land on this side of the river, +exhorting them to remain friendly to Russia and promising not to +enforce his rule upon them nor oblige them to change their faith. Even +now the Cossack families claim relationship with the Chechens, and the +love of freedom, of leisure, of plunder and of war, still form their +chief characteristics. Only the harmful side of Russian influence shows +itself--by interference at elections, by confiscation of church bells, +and by the troops who are quartered in the country or march through it. +A Cossack is inclined to hate less the dzhigit hillsman who maybe has +killed his brother, than the soldier quartered on him to defend his +village, but who has defiled his hut with tobacco-smoke. He respects +his enemy the hillsman and despises the soldier, who is in his eyes an +alien and an oppressor. In reality, from a Cossack's point of view a +Russian peasant is a foreign, savage, despicable creature, of whom he +sees a sample in the hawkers who come to the country and in the +Ukrainian immigrants whom the Cossack contemptuously calls +'woolbeaters'. For him, to be smartly dressed means to be dressed like +a Circassian. The best weapons are obtained from the hillsmen and the +best horses are bought, or stolen, from them. A dashing young Cossack +likes to show off his knowledge of Tartar, and when carousing talks +Tartar even to his fellow Cossack. In spite of all these things this +small Christian clan stranded in a tiny corner of the earth, surrounded +by half-savage Mohammedan tribes and by soldiers, considers itself +highly advanced, acknowledges none but Cossacks as human beings, and +despises everybody else. The Cossack spends most of his time in the +cordon, in action, or in hunting and fishing. He hardly ever works at +home. When he stays in the village it is an exception to the general +rule and then he is holiday-making. All Cossacks make their own wine, +and drunkenness is not so much a general tendency as a rite, the +non-fulfilment of which would be considered apostasy. The Cossack looks +upon a woman as an instrument for his welfare; only the unmarried girls +are allowed to amuse themselves. A married woman has to work for her +husband from youth to very old age: his demands on her are the Oriental +ones of submission and labour. In consequence of this outlook women are +strongly developed both physically and mentally, and though they +are--as everywhere in the East--nominally in subjection, they possess +far greater influence and importance in family-life than Western women. +Their exclusion from public life and inurement to heavy male labour +give the women all the more power and importance in the household. A +Cossack, who before strangers considers it improper to speak +affectionately or needlessly to his wife, when alone with her is +involuntarily conscious of her superiority. His house and all his +property, in fact the entire homestead, has been acquired and is kept +together solely by her labour and care. Though firmly convinced that +labour is degrading to a Cossack and is only proper for a Nogay +labourer or a woman, he is vaguely aware of the fact that all he makes +use of and calls his own is the result of that toil, and that it is in +the power of the woman (his mother or his wife) whom he considers his +slave, to deprive him of all he possesses. Besides, the continuous +performance of man's heavy work and the responsibilities entrusted to +her have endowed the Grebensk women with a peculiarly independent +masculine character and have remarkably developed their physical +powers, common sense, resolution, and stability. The women are in most +cases stronger, more intelligent, more developed, and handsomer than +the men. A striking feature of a Grebensk woman's beauty is the +combination of the purest Circassian type of face with the broad and +powerful build of Northern women. Cossack women wear the Circassian +dress--a Tartar smock, beshmet, and soft slippers--but they tie their +kerchiefs round their heads in the Russian fashion. Smartness, +cleanliness and elegance in dress and in the arrangement of their huts, +are with them a custom and a necessity. In their relations with men the +women, and especially the unmarried girls, enjoy perfect freedom. + +Novomlinsk village was considered the very heart of Grebensk +Cossackdom. In it more than elsewhere the customs of the old Grebensk +population have been preserved, and its women have from time immemorial +been renowned all over the Caucasus for their beauty. A Cossack's +livelihood is derived from vineyards, fruit-gardens, water melon and +pumpkin plantations, from fishing, hunting, maize and millet growing, +and from war plunder. Novomlinsk village lies about two and a half +miles away from the Terek, from which it is separated by a dense +forest. On one side of the road which runs through the village is the +river; on the other, green vineyards and orchards, beyond which are +seen the driftsands of the Nogay Steppe. The village is surrounded by +earth-banks and prickly bramble hedges, and is entered by tall gates +hung between posts and covered with little reed-thatched roofs. Beside +them on a wooden gun-carriage stands an unwieldy cannon captured by the +Cossacks at some time or other, and which has not been fired for a +hundred years. A uniformed Cossack sentinel with dagger and gun +sometimes stands, and sometimes does not stand, on guard beside the +gates, and sometimes presents arms to a passing officer and sometimes +does not. Below the roof of the gateway is written in black letters on +a white board: 'Houses 266: male inhabitants 897: female 1012.' The +Cossacks' houses are all raised on pillars two and a half feet from the +ground. They are carefully thatched with reeds and have large carved +gables. If not new they are at least all straight and clean, with high +porches of different shapes; and they are not built close together but +have ample space around them, and are all picturesquely placed along +broad streets and lanes. In front of the large bright windows of many +of the houses, beyond the kitchen gardens, dark green poplars and +acacias with their delicate pale verdure and scented white blossoms +overtop the houses, and beside them grow flaunting yellow sunflowers, +creepers, and grape vines. In the broad open square are three shops +where drapery, sunflower and pumpkin seeds, locust beans and +gingerbreads are sold; and surrounded by a tall fence, loftier and +larger than the other houses, stands the Regimental Commander's +dwelling with its casement windows, behind a row of tall poplars. Few +people are to be seen in the streets of the village on weekdays, +especially in summer. The young men are on duty in the cordons or on +military expeditions; the old ones are fishing or helping the women in +the orchards and gardens. Only the very old, the sick, and the +children, remain at home. + + + + +Chapter V + + +It was one of those wonderful evenings that occur only in the Caucasus. +The sun had sunk behind the mountains but it was still light. The +evening glow had spread over a third of the sky, and against its +brilliancy the dull white immensity of the mountains was sharply +defined. The air was rarefied, motionless, and full of sound. The +shadow of the mountains reached for several miles over the steppe. The +steppe, the opposite side of the river, and the roads, were all +deserted. If very occasionally mounted men appeared, the Cossacks in +the cordon and the Chechens in their aouls (villages) watched them with +surprised curiosity and tried to guess who those questionable men could +be. At nightfall people from fear of one another flock to their +dwellings, and only birds and beasts fearless of man prowl in those +deserted spaces. Talking merrily, the women who have been tying up the +vines hurry away from the gardens before sunset. The vineyards, like +all the surrounding district, are deserted, but the villages become +very animated at that time of the evening. From all sides, walking, +riding, or driving in their creaking carts, people move towards the +village. Girls with their smocks tucked up and twigs in their hands run +chatting merrily to the village gates to meet the cattle that are +crowding together in a cloud of dust and mosquitoes which they bring +with them from the steppe. The well-fed cows and buffaloes disperse at +a run all over the streets and Cossack women in coloured beshmets go to +and fro among them. You can hear their merry laughter and shrieks +mingling with the lowing of the cattle. There an armed and mounted +Cossack, on leave from the cordon, rides up to a hut and, leaning +towards the window, knocks. In answer to the knock the handsome head of +a young woman appears at the window and you can hear caressing, +laughing voices. There a tattered Nogay labourer, with prominent +cheekbones, brings a load of reeds from the steppes, turns his creaking +cart into the Cossack captain's broad and clean courtyard, and lifts +the yoke off the oxen that stand tossing their heads while he and his +master shout to one another in Tartar. Past a puddle that reaches +nearly across the street, a barefooted Cossack woman with a bundle of +firewood on her back makes her laborious way by clinging to the fences, +holding her smock high and exposing her white legs. A Cossack returning +from shooting calls out in jest: 'Lift it higher, shameless thing!' and +points his gun at her. The woman lets down her smock and drops the +wood. An old Cossack, returning home from fishing with his trousers +tucked up and his hairy grey chest uncovered, has a net across his +shoulder containing silvery fish that are still struggling; and to take +a short cut climbs over his neighbour's broken fence and gives a tug to +his coat which has caught on the fence. There a woman is dragging a dry +branch along and from round the corner comes the sound of an axe. +Cossack children, spinning their tops wherever there is a smooth place +in the street, are shrieking; women are climbing over fences to avoid +going round. From every chimney rises the odorous kisyak smoke. From +every homestead comes the sound of increased bustle, precursor to the +stillness of night. + +Granny Ulitka, the wife of the Cossack cornet who is also teacher in +the regimental school, goes out to the gates of her yard like the other +women, and waits for the cattle which her daughter Maryanka is driving +along the street. Before she has had time fully to open the wattle gate +in the fence, an enormous buffalo cow surrounded by mosquitoes rushes +up bellowing and squeezes in. Several well-fed cows slowly follow her, +their large eyes gazing with recognition at their mistress as they +swish their sides with their tails. The beautiful and shapely Maryanka +enters at the gate and throwing away her switch quickly slams the gate +to and rushes with all the speed of her nimble feet to separate and +drive the cattle into their sheds. 'Take off your slippers, you devil's +wench!' shouts her mother, 'you've worn them into holes!' Maryanka is +not at all offended at being called a 'devil's wench', but accepting it +as a term of endearment cheerfully goes on with her task. Her face is +covered with a kerchief tied round her head. She is wearing a pink +smock and a green beshmet. She disappears inside the lean-to shed in +the yard, following the big fat cattle; and from the shed comes her +voice as she speaks gently and persuasively to the buffalo: 'Won't she +stand still? What a creature! Come now, come old dear!' Soon the girl +and the old woman pass from the shed to the dairy carrying two large +pots of milk, the day's yield. From the dairy chimney rises a thin +cloud of kisyak smoke: the milk is being used to make into clotted +cream. The girl makes up the fire while her mother goes to the gate. +Twilight has fallen on the village. The air is full of the smell of +vegetables, cattle, and scented kisyak smoke. From the gates and along +the streets Cossack women come running, carrying lighted rags. From the +yards one hears the snorting and quiet chewing of the cattle eased of +their milk, while in the street only the voices of women and children +sound as they call to one another. It is rare on a week-day to hear the +drunken voice of a man. + +One of the Cossack wives, a tall, masculine old woman, approaches +Granny Ulitka from the homestead opposite and asks her for a light. In +her hand she holds a rag. + +'Have you cleared up. Granny?' + +'The girl is lighting the fire. Is it fire you want?' says Granny +Ulitka, proud of being able to oblige her neighbour. + +Both women enter the hut, and coarse hands unused to dealing with small +articles tremblingly lift the lid of a matchbox, which is a rarity in +the Caucasus. The masculine-looking new-comer sits down on the doorstep +with the evident intention of having a chat. + +'And is your man at the school. Mother?' she asked. + +'He's always teaching the youngsters. Mother. But he writes that he'll +come home for the holidays,' said the cornet's wife. + +'Yes, he's a clever man, one sees; it all comes useful.' + +'Of course it does.' + +'And my Lukashka is at the cordon; they won't let him come home,' said +the visitor, though the cornet's wife had known all this long ago. She +wanted to talk about her Lukashka whom she had lately fitted out for +service in the Cossack regiment, and whom she wished to marry to the +cornet's daughter, Maryanka. + +'So he's at the cordon?' + +'He is. Mother. He's not been home since last holidays. The other day I +sent him some shirts by Fomushkin. He says he's all right, and that his +superiors are satisfied. He says they are looking out for abreks again. +Lukashka is quite happy, he says.' + +'Ah well, thank God,' said the cornet's wife.' "Snatcher" is certainly +the only word for him.' Lukashka was surnamed 'the Snatcher' because of +his bravery in snatching a boy from a watery grave, and the cornet's +wife alluded to this, wishing in her turn to say something agreeable to +Lukashka's mother. + +'I thank God, Mother, that he's a good son! He's a fine fellow, +everyone praises him,' says Lukashka's mother. 'All I wish is to get +him married; then I could die in peace.' + +'Well, aren't there plenty of young women in the village?' answered the +cornet's wife slyly as she carefully replaced the lid of the matchbox +with her horny hands. + +'Plenty, Mother, plenty,' remarked Lukashka's mother, shaking her head. +'There's your girl now, your Maryanka--that's the sort of girl! You'd +have to search through the whole place to find such another!' The +cornet's wife knows what Lukashka's mother is after, but though she +believes him to be a good Cossack she hangs back: first because she is +a cornet's wife and rich, while Lukashka is the son of a simple Cossack +and fatherless, secondly because she does not want to part with her +daughter yet, but chiefly because propriety demands it. + +'Well, when Maryanka grows up she'll be marriageable too,' she answers +soberly and modestly. + +'I'll send the matchmakers to you--I'll send them! Only let me get the +vineyard done and then we'll come and make our bows to you,' says +Lukashka's mother. 'And we'll make our bows to Elias Vasilich too.' + +'Elias, indeed!' says the cornet's wife proudly. 'It's to me you must +speak! All in its own good time.' + +Lukashka's mother sees by the stern face of the cornet's wife that it +is not the time to say anything more just now, so she lights her rag +with the match and says, rising: 'Don't refuse us, think of my words. +I'll go, it is time to light the fire.' + +As she crosses the road swinging the burning rag, she meets Maryanka, +who bows. + +'Ah, she's a regular queen, a splendid worker, that girl!' she thinks, +looking at the beautiful maiden. 'What need for her to grow any more? +It's time she was married and to a good home; married to Lukashka!' + +But Granny Ulitka had her own cares and she remained sitting on the +threshold thinking hard about something, till the girl called her. + + + + +Chapter VI + + +The male population of the village spend their time on military +expeditions and in the cordon--or 'at their posts', as the Cossacks +say. Towards evening, that same Lukashka the Snatcher, about whom the +old women had been talking, was standing on a watch-tower of the +Nizhni-Prototsk post situated on the very banks of the Terek. Leaning +on the railing of the tower and screwing up his eyes, he looked now far +into the distance beyond the Terek, now down at his fellow Cossacks, +and occasionally he addressed the latter. The sun was already +approaching the snowy range that gleamed white above the fleecy clouds. +The clouds undulating at the base of the mountains grew darker and +darker. The clearness of evening was noticeable in the air. A sense of +freshness came from the woods, though round the post it was still hot. +The voices of the talking Cossacks vibrated more sonorously than +before. The moving mass of the Terek's rapid brown waters contrasted +more vividly with its motionless banks. The waters were beginning to +subside and here and there the wet sands gleamed drab on the banks and +in the shallows. The other side of the river, just opposite the cordon, +was deserted; only an immense waste of low-growing reeds stretched far +away to the very foot of the mountains. On the low bank, a little to +one side, could be seen the flat-roofed clay houses and the +funnel-shaped chimneys of a Chechen village. The sharp eyes of the +Cossack who stood on the watch-tower followed, through the evening +smoke of the pro-Russian village, the tiny moving figures of the +Chechen women visible in the distance in their red and blue garments. + +Although the Cossacks expected abreks to cross over and attack them +from the Tartar side at any moment, especially as it was May when the +woods by the Terek are so dense that it is difficult to pass through +them on foot and the river is shallow enough in places for a horseman +to ford it, and despite the fact that a couple of days before a Cossack +had arrived with a circular from the commander of the regiment +announcing that spies had reported the intention of a party of some +eight men to cross the Terek, and ordering special vigilance--no +special vigilance was being observed in the cordon. The Cossacks, +unarmed and with their horses unsaddled just as if they were at home, +spent their time some in fishing, some in drinking, and some in +hunting. Only the horse of the man on duty was saddled, and with its +feet hobbled was moving about by the brambles near the wood, and only +the sentinel had his Circassian coat on and carried a gun and sword. +The corporal, a tall thin Cossack with an exceptionally long back and +small hands and feet, was sitting on the earth-bank of a hut with his +beshmet unbuttoned. On his face was the lazy, bored expression of a +superior, and having shut his eyes he dropped his head upon the palm +first of one hand and then of the other. An elderly Cossack with a +broad greyish-black beard was lying in his shirt, girdled with a black +strap, close to the river and gazing lazily at the waves of the Terek +as they monotonously foamed and swirled. Others, also overcome by the +heat and half naked, were rinsing clothes in the Terek, plaiting a +fishing line, or humming tunes as they lay on the hot sand of the river +bank. One Cossack, with a thin face much burnt by the sun, lay near the +hut evidently dead drunk, by a wall which though it had been in shadow +some two hours previously was now exposed to the sun's fierce slanting +rays. + +Lukashka, who stood on the watch-tower, was a tall handsome lad about +twenty years old and very like his mother. His face and whole build, in +spite of the angularity of youth, indicated great strength, both +physical and moral. Though he had only lately joined the Cossacks at +the front, it was evident from the expression of his face and the calm +assurance of his attitude that he had already acquired the somewhat +proud and warlike bearing peculiar to Cossacks and to men generally who +continually carry arms, and that he felt he was a Cossack and fully +knew his own value. His ample Circassian coat was torn in some places, +his cap was on the back of his head Chechen fashion, and his leggings +had slipped below his knees. His clothing was not rich, but he wore it +with that peculiar Cossack foppishness which consists in imitating the +Chechen brave. Everything on a real brave is ample, ragged, and +neglected, only his weapons are costly. But these ragged clothes and +these weapons are belted and worn with a certain air and matched in a +certain manner, neither of which can be acquired by everybody and which +at once strike the eye of a Cossack or a hillsman. Lukashka had this +resemblance to a brave. With his hands folded under his sword, and his +eyes nearly closed, he kept looking at the distant Tartar village. +Taken separately his features were not beautiful, but anyone who saw +his stately carriage and his dark-browed intelligent face would +involuntarily say, 'What a fine fellow!' + +'Look at the women, what a lot of them are walking about in the +village,' said he in a sharp voice, languidly showing his brilliant +white teeth and not addressing anyone in particular. + +Nazarka who was lying below immediately lifted his head and remarked: + +'They must be going for water.' + +'Supposing one scared them with a gun?' said Lukashka, laughing, +'Wouldn't they be frightened?' + +'It wouldn't reach.' + +'What! Mine would carry beyond. Just wait a bit, and when their feast +comes round I'll go and visit Girey Khan and drink buza there,' said +Lukashka, angrily swishing away the mosquitoes which attached +themselves to him. + +A rustling in the thicket drew the Cossack's attention. A pied mongrel +half-setter, searching for a scent and violently wagging its scantily +furred tail, came running to the cordon. Lukashka recognized the dog as +one belonging to his neighbour, Uncle Eroshka, a hunter, and saw, +following it through the thicket, the approaching figure of the hunter +himself. + +Uncle Eroshka was a gigantic Cossack with a broad, snow-white beard and +such broad shoulders and chest that in the wood, where there was no one +to compare him with, he did not look particularly tall, so well +proportioned were his powerful limbs. He wore a tattered coat and, over +the bands with which his legs were swathed, sandals made of undressed +deer's hide tied on with strings; while on his head he had a rough +little white cap. He carried over one shoulder a screen to hide behind +when shooting pheasants, and a bag containing a hen for luring hawks, +and a small falcon; over the other shoulder, attached by a strap, was a +wild cat he had killed; and stuck in his belt behind were some little +bags containing bullets, gunpowder, and bread, a horse's tail to swish +away the mosquitoes, a large dagger in a torn scabbard smeared with old +bloodstains, and two dead pheasants. Having glanced at the cordon he +stopped. + +'Hy, Lyam!' he called to the dog in such a ringing bass that it awoke +an echo far away in the wood; and throwing over his shoulder his big +gun, of the kind the Cossacks call a 'flint', he raised his cap. + +'Had a good day, good people, eh?' he said, addressing the Cossacks in +the same strong and cheerful voice, quite without effort, but as loudly +as if he were shouting to someone on the other bank of the river. + +'Yes, yes. Uncle!' answered from all sides the voices of the young +Cossacks. + +'What have you seen? Tell us!' shouted Uncle Eroshka, wiping the sweat +from his broad red face with the sleeve of his coat. + +'Ah, there's a vulture living in the plane tree here, Uncle. As soon as +night comes he begins hovering round,' said Nazarka, winking and +jerking his shoulder and leg. + +'Come, come!' said the old man incredulously. + +'Really, Uncle! You must keep watch,' replied Nazarka with a laugh. + +The other Cossacks began laughing. + +The wag had not seen any vulture at all, but it had long been the +custom of the young Cossacks in the cordon to tease and mislead Uncle +Eroshka every time he came to them. + +'Eh, you fool, always lying!' exclaimed Lukashka from the tower to +Nazarka. + +Nazarka was immediately silenced. + +'It must be watched. I'll watch,' answered the old man to the great +delight of all the Cossacks. 'But have you seen any boars?' + +'Watching for boars, are you?' said the corporal, bending forward and +scratching his back with both hands, very pleased at the chance of some +distraction. 'It's abreks one has to hunt here and not boars! You've +not heard anything, Uncle, have you?' he added, needlessly screwing up +his eyes and showing his close-set white teeth. + +'Abreks,' said the old man. 'No, I haven't. I say, have you any +chikhir? Let me have a drink, there's a good man. I'm really quite done +up. When the time comes I'll bring you some fresh meat, I really will. +Give me a drink!' he added. + +'Well, and are you going to watch?' inquired the corporal, as though he +had not heard what the other said. + +'I did mean to watch tonight,' replied Uncle Eroshka. 'Maybe, with +God's help, I shall kill something for the holiday. Then you shall have +a share, you shall indeed!' + +'Uncle! Hallo, Uncle!' called out Lukashka sharply from above, +attracting everybody's attention. All the Cossacks looked up at him. +'Just go to the upper water-course, there's a fine herd of boars there. +I'm not inventing, really! The other day one of our Cossacks shot one +there. I'm telling you the truth,' added he, readjusting the musket at +his back and in a tone that showed he was not joking. + +'Ah! Lukashka the Snatcher is here!' said the old man, looking up. +'Where has he been shooting?' + +'Haven't you seen? I suppose you're too young!' said Lukashka. 'Close +by the ditch,' he went on seriously with a shake of the head. 'We were +just going along the ditch when all at once we heard something +crackling, but my gun was in its case. Elias fired suddenly ... But +I'll show you the place, it's not far. You just wait a bit. I know +every one of their footpaths ... Daddy Mosev,' said he, turning +resolutely and almost commandingly to the corporal, 'it's time to +relieve guard!' and holding aloft his gun he began to descend from the +watch-tower without waiting for the order. + +'Come down!' said the corporal, after Lukashka had started, and glanced +round. 'Is it your turn, Gurka? Then go ... True enough your Lukashka +has become very skilful,' he went on, addressing the old man. 'He keeps +going about just like you, he doesn't stay at home. The other day he +killed a boar.' + + + + +Chapter VII + + +The sun had already set and the shades of night were rapidly spreading +from the edge of the wood. The Cossacks finished their task round the +cordon and gathered in the hut for supper. Only the old man still +stayed under the plane tree watching for the vulture and pulling the +string tied to the falcon's leg, but though a vulture was really +perching on the plane tree it declined to swoop down on the lure. +Lukashka, singing one song after another, was leisurely placing nets +among the very thickest brambles to trap pheasants. In spite of his +tall stature and big hands every kind of work, both rough and delicate, +prospered under Lukashka's fingers. + +'Hallo, Luke!' came Nazarka's shrill, sharp voice calling him from the +thicket close by. 'The Cossacks have gone in to supper.' + +Nazarka, with a live pheasant under his arm, forced his way through the +brambles and emerged on the footpath. + +'Oh!' said Lukashka, breaking off in his song, 'where did you get that +cock pheasant? I suppose it was in my trap?' + +Nazarka was of the same age as Lukashka and had also only been at the +front since the previous spring. + +He was plain, thin and puny, with a shrill voice that rang in one's +ears. They were neighbours and comrades. Lukashka was sitting on the +grass crosslegged like a Tartar, adjusting his nets. + +'I don't know whose it was--yours, I expect.' + +'Was it beyond the pit by the plane tree? Then it is mine! I set the +nets last night.' + +Lukashka rose and examined the captured pheasant. After stroking the +dark burnished head of the bird, which rolled its eyes and stretched +out its neck in terror, Lukashka took the pheasant in his hands. + +'We'll have it in a pilau tonight. You go and kill and pluck it.' + +'And shall we eat it ourselves or give it to the corporal?' + +'He has plenty!' + +'I don't like killing them,' said Nazarka. + +'Give it here!' + +Lukashka drew a little knife from under his dagger and gave it a swift +jerk. The bird fluttered, but before it could spread its wings the +bleeding head bent and quivered. + +'That's how one should do it!' said Lukashka, throwing down the +pheasant. 'It will make a fat pilau.' + +Nazarka shuddered as he looked at the bird. + +'I say, Lukashka, that fiend will be sending us to the ambush again +tonight,' he said, taking up the bird. (He was alluding to the +corporal.) 'He has sent Fomushkin to get wine, and it ought to be his +turn. He always puts it on us.' + +Lukashka went whistling along the cordon. + +'Take the string with you,' he shouted. + +Nazirka obeyed. + +'I'll give him a bit of my mind today, I really will,' continued +Nazarka. 'Let's say we won't go; we're tired out and there's an end of +it! No, really, you tell him, he'll listen to you. It's too bad!' + +'Get along with you! What a thing to make a fuss about!' said Lukashka, +evidently thinking of something else. 'What bosh! If he made us turn +out of the village at night now, that would be annoying: there one can +have some fun, but here what is there? It's all one whether we're in +the cordon or in ambush. What a fellow you are!' + +'And are you going to the village?' + +'I'll go for the holidays.' + +'Gurka says your Dunayka is carrying on with Fomushkin,' said Nazarka +suddenly. + +'Well, let her go to the devil,' said Lukashka, showing his regular +white teeth, though he did not laugh. 'As if I couldn't find another!' + +'Gurka says he went to her house. Her husband was out and there was +Fomushkin sitting and eating pie. Gurka stopped awhile and then went +away, and passing by the window he heard her say, "He's gone, the +fiend.... Why don't you eat your pie, my own? You needn't go home for +the night," she says. And Gurka under the window says to himself, +"That's fine!"' + +'You're making it up.' + +'No, quite true, by Heaven!' + +'Well, if she's found another let her go to the devil,' said Lukashka, +after a pause. 'There's no lack of girls and I was sick of her anyway.' + +'Well, see what a devil you are!' said Nazarka. 'You should make up to +the cornet's girl, Maryanka. Why doesn't she walk out with any one?' + +Lukashka frowned. 'What of Maryanka? They're all alike,' said he. + +'Well, you just try...' + +'What do you think? Are girls so scarce in the village?' + +And Lukashka recommenced whistling, and went along the cordon pulling +leaves and branches from the bushes as he went. Suddenly, catching +sight of a smooth sapling, he drew the knife from the handle of his +dagger and cut it down. 'What a ramrod it will make,' he said, swinging +the sapling till it whistled through the air. + +The Cossacks were sitting round a low Tartar table on the earthen floor +of the clay-plastered outer room of the hut, when the question of whose +turn it was to lie in ambush was raised. 'Who is to go tonight?' +shouted one of the Cossacks through the open door to the corporal in +the next room. + +'Who is to go?' the corporal shouted back. 'Uncle Burlak has been and +Fomushkin too,' said he, not quite confidently. 'You two had better go, +you and Nazarka,' he went on, addressing Lukashka. 'And Ergushov must +go too; surely he has slept it off?' + +'You don't sleep it off yourself so why should he?' said Nazarka in a +subdued voice. + +The Cossacks laughed. + +Ergushov was the Cossack who had been lying drunk and asleep near the +hut. He had only that moment staggered into the room rubbing his eyes. + +Lukashka had already risen and was getting his gun ready. + +'Be quick and go! Finish your supper and go!' said the corporal; and +without waiting for an expression of consent he shut the door, +evidently not expecting the Cossack to obey. 'Of course,' thought he, +'if I hadn't been ordered to I wouldn't send anyone, but an officer +might turn up at any moment. As it is, they say eight abreks have +crossed over.' + +'Well, I suppose I must go,' remarked Ergushov, 'it's the regulation. +Can't be helped! The times are such. I say, we must go.' + +Meanwhile Lukashka, holding a big piece of pheasant to his mouth with +both hands and glancing now at Nazarka, now at Ergushov, seemed quite +indifferent to what passed and only laughed at them both. Before the +Cossacks were ready to go into ambush. Uncle Eroshka, who had been +vainly waiting under the plane tree till night fell, entered the dark +outer room. + +'Well, lads,' his loud bass resounded through the low-roofed room +drowning all the other voices, 'I'm going with you. You'll watch for +Chechens and I for boars!' + + + + +Chapter VIII + + +It was quite dark when Uncle Eroshka and the three Cossacks, in their +cloaks and shouldering their guns, left the cordon and went towards the +place on the Terek where they were to lie in ambush. Nazarka did not +want to go at all, but Lukashka shouted at him and they soon started. +After they had gone a few steps in silence the Cossacks turned aside +from the ditch and went along a path almost hidden by reeds till they +reached the river. On its bank lay a thick black log cast up by the +water. The reeds around it had been recently beaten down. + +'Shall we lie here?' asked Nazarka. + +'Why not?' answered Lukashka. 'Sit down here and I'll be back in a +minute. I'll only show Daddy where to go.' + +'This is the best place; here we can see and not be seen,' said +Ergushov, 'so it's here we'll lie. It's a first-rate place!' + +Nazarka and Ergushov spread out their cloaks and settled down behind +the log, while Lukashka went on with Uncle Eroshka. + +'It's not far from here. Daddy,' said Lukashka, stepping softly in +front of the old man; 'I'll show you where they've been--I'm the only +one that knows. Daddy.' + +'Show me! You're a fine fellow, a regular Snatcher!' replied the old +man, also whispering. + +Having gone a few steps Lukashka stopped, stooped down over a puddle, +and whistled. 'That's where they come to drink, d'you see?' He spoke in +a scarcely audible voice, pointing to fresh hoof-prints. + +'Christ bless you,' answered the old man. 'The boar will be in the +hollow beyond the ditch,' he added. Til watch, and you can go.' + +Lukashka pulled his cloak up higher and walked back alone, throwing +swift glances now to the left at the wall of reeds, now to the Terek +rushing by below the bank. 'I daresay he's watching or creeping along +somewhere,' thought he of a possible Chechen hillsman. Suddenly a loud +rustling and a splash in the water made him start and seize his musket. +From under the bank a boar leapt up--his dark outline showing for a +moment against the glassy surface of the water and then disappearing +among the reeds. Lukashka pulled out his gun and aimed, but before he +could fire the boar had disappeared in the thicket. Lukashka spat with +vexation and went on. On approaching the ambuscade he halted again and +whistled softly. His whistle was answered and he stepped up to his +comrades. + +Nazarka, all curled up, was already asleep. Ergushov sat with his legs +crossed and moved slightly to make room for Lukashka. + +'How jolly it is to sit here! It's really a good place,' said he. 'Did +you take him there?' + +'Showed him where,' answered Lukashka, spreading out his cloak. 'But +what a big boar I roused just now close to the water! I expect it was +the very one! You must have heard the crash?' + +'I did hear a beast crashing through. I knew at once it was a beast. I +thought to myself: "Lukashka has roused a beast,"' Ergushov said, +wrapping himself up in his cloak. 'Now I'll go to sleep,' he added. +'Wake me when the cocks crow. We must have discipline. I'll lie down +and have a nap, and then you will have a nap and I'll watch--that's the +way.' + +'Luckily I don't want to sleep,' answered Lukashka. + +The night was dark, warm, and still. Only on one side of the sky the +stars were shining, the other and greater part was overcast by one huge +cloud stretching from the mountaintops. The black cloud, blending in +the absence of any wind with the mountains, moved slowly onwards, its +curved edges sharply denned against the deep starry sky. Only in front +of him could the Cossack discern the Terek and the distance beyond. +Behind and on both sides he was surrounded by a wall of reeds. +Occasionally the reeds would sway and rustle against one another +apparently without cause. Seen from down below, against the clear part +of the sky, their waving tufts looked like the feathery branches of +trees. Close in front at his very feet was the bank, and at its base +the rushing torrent. A little farther on was the moving mass of glassy +brown water which eddied rhythmically along the bank and round the +shallows. Farther still, water, banks, and cloud all merged together in +impenetrable gloom. Along the surface of the water floated black +shadows, in which the experienced eyes of the Cossack detected trees +carried down by the current. Only very rarely sheet-lightning, mirrored +in the water as in a black glass, disclosed the sloping bank opposite. +The rhythmic sounds of night--the rustling of the reeds, the snoring of +the Cossacks, the hum of mosquitoes, and the rushing water, were every +now and then broken by a shot fired in the distance, or by the gurgling +of water when a piece of bank slipped down, the splash of a big fish, +or the crashing of an animal breaking through the thick undergrowth in +the wood. Once an owl flew past along the Terek, flapping one wing +against the other rhythmically at every second beat. Just above the +Cossack's head it turned towards the wood and then, striking its wings +no longer after every other flap but at every flap, it flew to an old +plane tree where it rustled about for a long time before settling down +among the branches. At every one of these unexpected sounds the +watching Cossack listened intently, straining his hearing, and screwing +up his eyes while he deliberately felt for his musket. + +The greater part of the night was past. The black cloud that had moved +westward revealed the clear starry sky from under its torn edge, and +the golden upturned crescent of the moon shone above the mountains with +a reddish light. The cold began to be penetrating. Nazarka awoke, spoke +a little, and fell asleep again. Lukashka feeling bored got up, drew +the knife from his dagger-handle and began to fashion his stick into a +ramrod. His head was full of the Chechens who lived over there in the +mountains, and of how their brave lads came across and were not afraid +of the Cossacks, and might even now be crossing the river at some other +spot. He thrust himself out of his hiding-place and looked along the +river but could see nothing. And as he continued looking out at +intervals upon the river and at the opposite bank, now dimly +distinguishable from the water in the faint moonlight, he no longer +thought about the Chechens but only of when it would be time to wake +his comrades, and of going home to the village. In the village he +imagined Dunayka, his 'little soul', as the Cossacks call a man's +mistress, and thought of her with vexation. Silvery mists, a sign of +coming morning, glittered white above the water, and not far from him +young eagles were whistling and flapping their wings. At last the +crowing of a cock reached him from the distant village, followed by the +long-sustained note of another, which was again answered by yet other +voices. + +'Time to wake them,' thought Lukashka, who had finished his ramrod and +felt his eyes growing heavy. Turning to his comrades he managed to make +out which pair of legs belonged to whom, when it suddenly seemed to him +that he heard something splash on the other side of the Terek. He +turned again towards the horizon beyond the hills, where day was +breaking under the upturned crescent, glanced at the outline of the +opposite bank, at the Terek, and at the now distinctly visible +driftwood upon it. For one instant it seemed to him that he was moving +and that the Terek with the drifting wood remained stationary. Again he +peered out. One large black log with a branch particularly attracted +his attention. The tree was floating in a strange way right down the +middle of the stream, neither rocking nor whirling. It even appeared +not to be floating altogether with the current, but to be crossing it +in the direction of the shallows. Lukashka stretching out his neck +watched it intently. The tree floated to the shallows, stopped, and +shifted in a peculiar manner. Lukashka thought he saw an arm stretched +out from beneath the tree. 'Supposing I killed an abrek all by myself!' +he thought, and seized his gun with a swift, unhurried movement, +putting up his gun-rest, placing the gun upon it, and holding it +noiselessly in position. Cocking the trigger, with bated breath he took +aim, still peering out intently. 'I won't wake them,' he thought. But +his heart began beating so fast that he remained motionless, listening. +Suddenly the trunk gave a plunge and again began to float across the +stream towards our bank. 'Only not to miss ...' thought he, and now by +the faint light of the moon he caught a glimpse of a Tartar's head in +front of the floating wood. He aimed straight at the head which +appeared to be quite near--just at the end of his rifle's barrel. He +glanced cross. 'Right enough it is an abrek! he thought joyfully, and +suddenly rising to his knees he again took aim. Having found the sight, +barely visible at the end of the long gun, he said: 'In the name of the +Father and of the Son,' in the Cossack way learnt in his childhood, and +pulled the trigger. A flash of lightning lit up for an instant the +reeds and the water, and the sharp, abrupt report of the shot was +carried across the river, changing into a prolonged roll somewhere in +the far distance. The piece of driftwood now floated not across, but +with the current, rocking and whirling. + +'Stop, I say!' exclaimed Ergushov, seizing his musket and raising +himself behind the log near which he was lying. + +'Shut up, you devil!' whispered Lukashka, grinding his teeth. 'abreks!' + +'Whom have you shot?' asked Nazarka. 'Who was it, Lukashka?' + +Lukashka did not answer. He was reloading his gun and watching the +floating wood. A little way off it stopped on a sand-bank, and from +behind it something large that rocked in the water came into view. + +'What did you shoot? Why don't you speak?' insisted the Cossacks. + +'Abreks, I tell you!' said Lukashka. + +'Don't humbug! Did the gun go off? ...' + +'I've killed an abrek, that's what I fired at,' muttered Lukashka in a +voice choked by emotion, as he jumped to his feet. 'A man was +swimming...' he said, pointing to the sandbank. 'I killed him. Just +look there.' + +'Have done with your humbugging!' said Ergushov again, rubbing his eyes. + +'Have done with what? Look there,' said Lukashka, seizing him by the +shoulders and pulling him with such force that Ergushov groaned. + +He looked in the direction in which Lukashka pointed, and discerning a +body immediately changed his tone. + +'O Lord! But I say, more will come! I tell you the truth,' said he +softly, and began examining his musket. 'That was a scout swimming +across: either the others are here already or are not far off on the +other side--I tell you for sure!' Lukashka was unfastening his belt and +taking off his Circassian coat. + +'What are you up to, you idiot?' exclaimed Ergushov. 'Only show +yourself and you've lost all for nothing, I tell you true! If you've +killed him he won't escape. Let me have a little powder for my +musket-pan--you have some? Nazarka, you go back to the cordon and look +alive; but don't go along the bank or you'll be killed--I tell you +true.' + +'Catch me going alone! Go yourself!' said Nazarka angrily. + +Having taken off his coat, Lukashka went down to the bank. + +'Don't go in, I tell you!' said Ergushov, putting some powder on the +pan. 'Look, he's not moving. I can see. It's nearly morning; wait till +they come from the cordon. You go, Nazarka. You're afraid! Don't be +afraid, I tell you.' + +'Luke, I say, Lukashka! Tell us how you did it!' said Nazarka. + +Lukashka changed his mind about going into the water just then. 'Go +quick to the cordon and I will watch. Tell the Cossacks to send out the +patrol. If the ABREKS are on this side they must be caught,' said he. + +'That's what I say. They'll get off,' said Ergushov, rising. 'True, +they must be caught!' + +Ergushov and Nazarka rose and, crossing themselves, started off for the +cordon--not along the riverbank but breaking their way through the +brambles to reach a path in the wood. + +'Now mind, Lukashka--they may cut you down here, so you'd best keep a +sharp look-out, I tell you!' + +'Go along; I know,' muttered Lukashka; and having examined his gun +again he sat down behind the log. + +He remained alone and sat gazing at the shallows and listening for the +Cossacks; but it was some distance to the cordon and he was tormented +by impatience. He kept thinking that the other ABREKS who were with the +one he had killed would escape. He was vexed with the ABREKS who were +going to escape just as he had been with the boar that had escaped the +evening before. He glanced round and at the opposite bank, expecting +every moment to see a man, and having arranged his gun-rest he was +ready to fire. The idea that he might himself be killed never entered +his head. + + + + +Chapter IX + + +It was growing light. The Chechen's body which was gently rocking in +the shallow water was now clearly visible. Suddenly the reeds rustled +not far from Luke and he heard steps and saw the feathery tops of the +reeds moving. He set his gun at full cock and muttered: 'In the name of +the Father and of the Son,' but when the cock clicked the sound of +steps ceased. + +'Hallo, Cossacks! Don't kill your Daddy!' said a deep bass voice +calmly; and moving the reeds apart Daddy Eroshka came up close to Luke. + +'I very nearly killed you, by God I did!' said Lukashka. + +'What have you shot?' asked the old man. + +His sonorous voice resounded through the wood and downward along the +river, suddenly dispelling the mysterious quiet of night around the +Cossack. It was as if everything had suddenly become lighter and more +distinct. + +'There now. Uncle, you have not seen anything, but I've killed a +beast,' said Lukashka, uncocking his gun and getting up with unnatural +calmness. + +The old man was staring intently at the white back, now clearly +visible, against which the Terek rippled. + +'He was swimming with a log on his back. I spied him out! ... Look +there. There! He's got blue trousers, and a gun I think.... Do you +see?' inquired Luke. + + 'How can one help seeing?' said the old man angrily, and a +serious and stern expression appeared on his face. 'You've killed a +brave,' he said, apparently with regret. + +'Well, I sat here and suddenly saw something dark on the other side. I +spied him when he was still over there. It was as if a man had come +there and fallen in. Strange! And a piece of driftwood, a good-sized +piece, comes floating, not with the stream but across it; and what do I +see but a head appearing from under it! Strange! I stretched out of the +reeds but could see nothing; then I rose and he must have heard, the +beast, and crept out into the shallow and looked about. "No, you +don't!" I said, as soon as he landed and looked round, "you won't get +away!" Oh, there was something choking me! I got my gun ready but did +not stir, and looked out. He waited a little and then swam out again; +and when he came into the moonlight I could see his whole back. "In the +name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Ghost"... and through +the smoke I see him struggling. He moaned, or so it seemed to me. "Ah," +I thought, "the Lord be thanked, I've killed him!" And when he drifted +onto the sand-bank I could see him distinctly: he tried to get up but +couldn't. He struggled a bit and then lay down. Everything could be +seen. Look, he does not move--he must be dead! The Cossacks have gone +back to the cordon in case there should be any more of them.' + +'And so you got him!' said the old man. 'He is far away now, my lad! +...' And again he shook his head sadly. + +Just then the sound reached them of breaking bushes and the loud voices +of Cossacks approaching along the bank on horseback and on foot. 'Are +you bringing the skiff?' shouted Lukashka. + +'You're a trump, Luke! Lug it to the bank!' shouted one of the Cossacks. + +Without waiting for the skiff Lukashka began to undress, keeping an eye +all the while on his prey. + +'Wait a bit, Nazarka is bringing the skiff,' shouted the corporal. + +'You fool! Maybe he is alive and only pretending! Take your dagger with +you!' shouted another Cossack. + +'Get along,' cried Luke, pulling off his trousers. He quickly undressed +and, crossing himself, jumped, plunging with a splash into the river. +Then with long strokes of his white arms, lifting his back high out of +the water and breathing deeply, he swam across the current of the Terek +towards the shallows. A crowd of Cossacks stood on the bank talking +loudly. Three horsemen rode off to patrol. The skiff appeared round a +bend. Lukashka stood up on the sandbank, leaned over the body, and gave +it a couple of shakes. + +'Quite dead!' he shouted in a shrill voice. + +The Chechen had been shot in the head. He had on a pair of blue +trousers, a shirt, and a Circassian coat, and a gun and dagger were +tied to his back. Above all these a large branch was tied, and it was +this which at first had misled Lukashka. + +'What a carp you've landed!' cried one of the Cossacks who had +assembled in a circle, as the body, lifted out of the skiff, was laid +on the bank, pressing down the grass. + +'How yellow he is!' said another. + +'Where have our fellows gone to search? I expect the rest of them are +on the other bank. If this one had not been a scout he would not have +swum that way. Why else should he swim alone?' said a third. + +'Must have been a smart one to offer himself before the others; a +regular brave!' said Lukashka mockingly, shivering as he wrung out his +clothes that had got wet on the bank. + +'His beard is dyed and cropped.' + +'And he has tied a bag with a coat in it to his back.' + +'That would make it easier for him to swim,' said some one. + +'I say, Lukashka,' said the corporal, who was holding the dagger and +gun taken from the dead man. 'Keep the dagger for yourself and the coat +too; but I'll give you three rubles for the gun. You see it has a hole +in it,' said he, blowing into the muzzle. 'I want it just for a +souvenir.' + +Lukashka did not answer. Evidently this sort of begging vexed him but +he knew it could not be avoided. + +'See, what a devil!' said he, frowning and throwing down the Chechen's +coat. 'If at least it were a good coat, but it's a mere rag.' + +'It'll do to fetch firewood in,' said one of the Cossacks. + +'Mosev, I'll go home,' said Lukashka, evidently forgetting his vexation +and wishing to get some advantage out of having to give a present to +his superior. + +'All right, you may go!' + +'Take the body beyond the cordon, lads,' said the corporal, still +examining the gun, 'and put a shelter over him from the sun. Perhaps +they'll send from the mountains to ransom it.' + +'It isn't hot yet,' said someone. + +'And supposing a jackal tears him? Would that be well?' remarked +another Cossack. + +'We'll set a watch; if they should come to ransom him it won't do for +him to have been torn.' + +'Well, Lukashka, whatever you do you must stand a pail of vodka for the +lads,' said the corporal gaily. + +'Of course! That's the custom,' chimed in the Cossacks. 'See what luck +God has sent you! Without ever having seen anything of the kind before, +you've killed a brave!' + +'Buy the dagger and coat and don't be stingy, and I'll let you have the +trousers too,' said Lukashka. 'They're too tight for me; he was a thin +devil.' + +One Cossack bought the coat for a ruble and another gave the price of +two pails of vodka for the dagger. + +'Drink, lads! I'll stand you a pail!' said Luke. 'I'll bring it myself +from the village.' + +'And cut up the trousers into kerchiefs for the girls!' said Nazarka. + +The Cossacks burst out laughing. + +'Have done laughing!' said the corporal. 'And take the body away. Why +have you put the nasty thing by the hut?' + +'What are you standing there for? Haul him along, lads!' shouted +Lukashka in a commanding voice to the Cossacks, who reluctantly took +hold of the body, obeying him as though he were their chief. After +dragging the body along for a few steps the Cossacks let fall the legs, +which dropped with a lifeless jerk, and stepping apart they then stood +silent for a few moments. Nazarka came up and straightened the head, +which was turned to one side so that the round wound above the temple +and the whole of the dead man's face were visible. 'See what a mark he +has made right in the brain,' he said. 'He won't get lost. His owners +will always know him!' No one answered, and again the Angel of Silence +flew over the Cossacks. + +The sun had risen high and its diverging beams were lighting up the +dewy grass. Near by, the Terek murmured in the awakened wood and, +greeting the morning, the pheasants called to one another. The Cossacks +stood still and silent around the dead man, gazing at him. The brown +body, with nothing on but the wet blue trousers held by a girdle over +the sunken stomach, was well shaped and handsome. The muscular arms lay +stretched straight out by his sides; the blue, freshly shaven, round +head with the clotted wound on one side of it was thrown back. The +smooth tanned forehead contrasted sharply with the shaven part of the +head. The open glassy eyes with lowered pupils stared upwards, seeming +to gaze past everything. Under the red trimmed moustache the fine lips, +drawn at the corners, seemed stiffened into a smile of good-natured +subtle raillery. The fingers of the small hands covered with red hairs +were bent inward, and the nails were dyed red. + +Lukashka had not yet dressed. He was wet. His neck was redder and his +eyes brighter than usual, his broad jaws twitched, and from his healthy +body a hardly perceptible steam rose in the fresh morning air. + +'He too was a man!' he muttered, evidently admiring the corpse. + +'Yes, if you had fallen into his hands you would have had short +shrift,' said one of the Cossacks. + +The Angel of Silence had taken wing. The Cossacks began bustling about +and talking. Two of them went to cut brushwood for a shelter, others +strolled towards the cordon. Luke and Nazarka ran to get ready to go to +the village. + +Half an hour later they were both on their way homewards, talking +incessantly and almost running through the dense woods which separated +the Terek from the village. + +'Mind, don't tell her I sent you, but just go and find out if her +husband is at home,' Luke was saying in his shrill voice. + +'And I'll go round to Yamka too,' said the devoted Nazarka. 'We'll have +a spree, shall we?' + +'When should we have one if not to-day?' replied Luke. + +When they reached the village the two Cossacks drank, and lay down to +sleep till evening. + + + + +Chapter X + + +On the third day after the events above described, two companies of a +Caucasian infantry regiment arrived at the Cossack village of +Novomlinsk. The horses had been unharnessed and the companies' wagons +were standing in the square. The cooks had dug a pit, and with logs +gathered from various yards (where they had not been sufficiently +securely stored) were now cooking the food; the pay-sergeants were +settling accounts with the soldiers. The Service Corps men were driving +piles in the ground to which to tie the horses, and the quartermasters +were going about the streets just as if they were at home, showing +officers and men to their quarters. Here were green ammunition boxes in +a line, the company's carts, horses, and cauldrons in which buckwheat +porridge was being cooked. Here were the captain and the lieutenant and +the sergeant-major, Onisim Mikhaylovich, and all this was in the +Cossack village where it was reported that the companies were ordered +to take up their quarters: therefore they were at home here. But why +they were stationed there, who the Cossacks were, and whether they +wanted the troops to be there, and whether they were Old Believers or +not--was all quite immaterial. Having received their pay and been +dismissed, tired out and covered with dust, the soldiers noisily and in +disorder, like a swarm of bees about to settle, spread over the squares +and streets; quite regardless of the Cossacks' ill will, chattering +merrily and with their muskets clinking, by twos and threes they +entered the huts and hung up their accoutrements, unpacked their bags, +and bantered the women. At their favourite spot, round the +porridge-cauldrons, a large group of soldiers assembled and with little +pipes between their teeth they gazed, now at the smoke which rose into +the hot sky, becoming visible when it thickened into white clouds as it +rose, and now at the camp fires which were quivering in the pure air +like molten glass, and bantered and made fun of the Cossack men and +women because they do not live at all like Russians. In all the yards +one could see soldiers and hear their laughter and the exasperated and +shrill cries of Cossack women defending their houses and refusing to +give the soldiers water or cooking utensils. Little boys and girls, +clinging to their mothers and to each other, followed all the movements +of the troopers (never before seen by them) with frightened curiosity, +or ran after them at a respectful distance. The old Cossacks came out +silently and dismally and sat on the earthen embankments of their huts, +and watched the soldiers' activity with an air of leaving it all to the +will of God without understanding what would come of it. + +Olenin, who had joined the Caucasian Army as a cadet three months +before, was quartered in one of the best houses in the village, the +house of the cornet, Elias Vasilich--that is to say at Granny Ulitka's. + +'Goodness knows what it will be like, Dmitri Andreich,' said the +panting Vanyusha to Olenin, who, dressed in a Circassian coat and +mounted on a Kabarda horse which he had bought in Groznoe, was after a +five-hours' march gaily entering the yard of the quarters assigned to +him. + +'Why, what's the matter?' he asked, caressing his horse and looking +merrily at the perspiring, dishevelled, and worried Vanyusha, who had +arrived with the baggage wagons and was unpacking. + +Olenin looked quite a different man. In place of his clean-shaven lips +and chin he had a youthful moustache and a small beard. Instead of a +sallow complexion, the result of nights turned into day, his cheeks, +his forehead, and the skin behind his ears were now red with healthy +sunburn. In place of a clean new black suit he wore a dirty white +Circassian coat with a deeply pleated skirt, and he bore arms. Instead +of a freshly starched collar, his neck was tightly clasped by the red +band of his silk BESHMET. He wore Circassian dress but did not wear it +well, and anyone would have known him for a Russian and not a Tartar +brave. It was the thing--but not the real thing. But for all that, his +whole person breathed health, joy, and satisfaction. + +'Yes, it seems funny to you,' said Vanyusha, 'but just try to talk to +these people yourself: they set themselves against one and there's an +end of it. You can't get as much as a word out of them.' Vanyusha +angrily threw down a pail on the threshold. 'Somehow they don't seem +like Russians.' + +'You should speak to the Chief of the Village!' + +'But I don't know where he lives,' said Vanyusha in an offended tone. + +'Who has upset you so?' asked Olenin, looking round. + +'The devil only knows. Faugh! There is no real master here. They say he +has gone to some kind of KRIGA, and the old woman is a real devil. God +preserve us!' answered Vanyusha, putting his hands to his head. 'How we +shall live here I don't know. They are worse than Tartars, I do +declare--though they consider themselves Christians! A Tartar is bad +enough, but all the same he is more noble. Gone to the KRIGA indeed! +What this KRIGA they have invented is, I don't know!' concluded +Vanyusha, and turned aside. + +'It's not as it is in the serfs' quarters at home, eh?' chaffed Olenin +without dismounting. + +'Please sir, may I have your horse?' said Vanyusha, evidently perplexed +by this new order of things but resigning himself to his fate. + +'So a Tartar is more noble, eh, Vanyusha?' repeated Olenin, dismounting +and slapping the saddle. + +'Yes, you're laughing! You think it funny,' muttered Vanyusha angrily. + +'Come, don't be angry, Vanyusha,' replied Olenin, still smiling. 'Wait +a minute, I'll go and speak to the people of the house; you'll see I +shall arrange everything. You don't know what a jolly life we shall +have here. Only don't get upset.' + +Vanyusha did not answer. Screwing up his eyes he looked contemptuously +after his master, and shook his head. Vanyusha regarded Olenin as only +his master, and Olenin regarded Vanyusha as only his servant; and they +would both have been much surprised if anyone had told them that they +were friends, as they really were without knowing it themselves. +Vanyusha had been taken into his proprietor's house when he was only +eleven and when Olenin was the same age. When Olenin was fifteen he +gave Vanyusha lessons for a time and taught him to read French, of +which the latter was inordinately proud; and when in specially good +spirits he still let off French words, always laughing stupidly when he +did so. + +Olenin ran up the steps of the porch and pushed open the door of the +hut. Maryanka, wearing nothing but a pink smock, as all Cossack women +do in the house, jumped away from the door, frightened, and pressing +herself against the wall covered the lower part of her face with the +broad sleeve of her Tartar smock. Having opened the door wider, Olenin +in the semi-darkness of the passage saw the whole tall, shapely figure +of the young Cossack girl. With the quick and eager curiosity of youth +he involuntarily noticed the firm maidenly form revealed by the fine +print smock, and the beautiful black eyes fixed on him with childlike +terror and wild curiosity. 'This is SHE,' thought Olenin. 'But there +will be many others like her' came at once into his head, and he opened +the inner door. Old Granny Ulitka, also dressed only in a smock, was +stooping with her back turned to him, sweeping the floor. + +'Good-day to you. Mother! I've come about my lodgings,' he began. + +The Cossack woman, without unbending, turned her severe but still +handsome face towards him. + +'What have you come here for? Want to mock at us, eh? I'll teach you to +mock; may the black plague seize you!' she shouted, looking askance +from under her frowning brow at the new-comer. + +Olenin had at first imagined that the way-worn, gallant Caucasian Army +(of which he was a member) would be everywhere received joyfully, and +especially by the Cossacks, our comrades in the war; and he therefore +felt perplexed by this reception. Without losing presence of mind +however he tried to explain that he meant to pay for his lodgings, but +the old woman would not give him a hearing. + +'What have you come for? Who wants a pest like you, with your scraped +face? You just wait a bit; when the master returns he'll show you your +place. I don't want your dirty money! A likely thing--just as if we had +never seen any! You'll stink the house out with your beastly tobacco +and want to put it right with money! Think we've never seen a pest! May +you be shot in your bowels and your heart!' shrieked the old woman in a +piercing voice, interrupting Olenin. + +'It seems Vanyusha was right!' thought Olenin. "A Tartar would be +nobler",' and followed by Granny Ulitka's abuse he went out of the hut. +As he was leaving, Maryanka, still wearing only her pink smock, but +with her forehead covered down to her eyes by a white kerchief, +suddenly slipped out from the passage past him. Pattering rapidly down +the steps with her bare feet she ran from the porch, stopped, and +looking round hastily with laughing eyes at the young man, vanished +round the corner of the hut. + +Her firm youthful step, the untamed look of the eyes glistening from +under the white kerchief, and the firm stately build of the young +beauty, struck Olenin even more powerfully than before. 'Yes, it must +be SHE,' he thought, and troubling his head still less about the +lodgings, he kept looking round at Maryanka as he approached Vanyusha. + +'There you see, the girl too is quite savage, just like a wild filly!' +said Vanyusha, who though still busy with the luggage wagon had now +cheered up a bit. 'LA FAME!' he added in a loud triumphant voice and +burst out laughing. + + + + +Chapter XI + + +Towards evening the master of the house returned from his fishing, and +having learnt that the cadet would pay for the lodging, pacified the +old woman and satisfied Vanyusha's demands. + +Everything was arranged in the new quarters. Their hosts moved into the +winter hut and let their summer hut to the cadet for three rubles a +month. Olenin had something to eat and went to sleep. Towards evening +he woke up, washed and made himself tidy, dined, and having lit a +cigarette sat down by the window that looked onto the street. It was +cooler. The slanting shadow of the hut with its ornamental gables fell +across the dusty road and even bent upwards at the base of the wall of +the house opposite. The steep reed-thatched roof of that house shone in +the rays of the setting sun. The air grew fresher. Everything was +peaceful in the village. The soldiers had settled down and become +quiet. The herds had not yet been driven home and the people had not +returned from their work. + +Olenin's lodging was situated almost at the end of the village. At rare +intervals, from somewhere far beyond the Terek in those parts whence +Olenin had just come (the Chechen or the Kumytsk plain), came muffled +sounds of firing. Olenin was feeling very well contented after three +months of bivouac life. His newly washed face was fresh and his +powerful body clean (an unaccustomed sensation after the campaign) and +in all his rested limbs he was conscious of a feeling of tranquillity +and strength. His mind, too, felt fresh and clear. He thought of the +campaign and of past dangers. He remembered that he had faced them no +worse than other men, and that he was accepted as a comrade among +valiant Caucasians. His Moscow recollections were left behind Heaven +knows how far! The old life was wiped out and a quite new life had +begun in which there were as yet no mistakes. Here as a new man among +new men he could gain a new and good reputation. He was conscious of a +youthful and unreasoning joy of life. Looking now out of the window at +the boys spinning their tops in the shadow of the house, now round his +neat new lodging, he thought how pleasantly he would settle down to +this new Cossack village life. Now and then he glanced at the mountains +and the blue sky, and an appreciation of the solemn grandeur of nature +mingled with his reminiscences and dreams. His new life had begun, not +as he imagined it would when he left Moscow, but unexpectedly well. +'The mountains, the mountains, the mountains!' they permeated all his +thoughts and feelings. + +'He's kissed his dog and licked the jug! ... Daddy Eroshka has kissed +his dog!' suddenly the little Cossacks who had been spinning their tops +under the window shouted, looking towards the side street. 'He's drunk +his bitch, and his dagger!' shouted the boys, crowding together and +stepping backwards. + +These shouts were addressed to Daddy Eroshka, who with his gun on his +shoulder and some pheasants hanging at his girdle was returning from +his shooting expedition. + +'I have done wrong, lads, I have!' he said, vigorously swinging his +arms and looking up at the windows on both sides of the street. 'I have +drunk the bitch; it was wrong,' he repeated, evidently vexed but +pretending not to care. + +Olenin was surprised by the boys' behavior towards the old hunter, but +was still more struck by the expressive, intelligent face and the +powerful build of the man whom they called Daddy Eroshka. + +'Here Daddy, here Cossack!' he called. 'Come here!' + +The old man looked into the window and stopped. + +'Good evening, good man,' he said, lifting his little cap off his +cropped head. + +'Good evening, good man,' replied Olenin. 'What is it the youngsters +are shouting at you?' + +Daddy Eroshka came up to the window. 'Why, they're teasing the old man. +No matter, I like it. Let them joke about their old daddy,' he said +with those firm musical intonations with which old and venerable people +speak. 'Are you an army commander?' he added. + +'No, I am a cadet. But where did you kill those pheasants?' asked +Olenin. + +'I dispatched these three hens in the forest,' answered the old man, +turning his broad back towards the window to show the hen pheasants +which were hanging with their heads tucked into his belt and staining +his coat with blood. 'Haven't you seen any?' he asked. 'Take a brace if +you like! Here you are,' and he handed two of the pheasants in at the +window. 'Are you a sportsman yourself?' he asked. + +'I am. During the campaign I killed four myself.' + +'Four? What a lot!' said the old man sarcastically. 'And are you a +drinker? Do you drink CHIKHIR?' + +'Why not? I like a drink.' + +'Ah, I see you are a trump! We shall be KUNAKS, you and I,' said Daddy +Eroshka. + +'Step in,' said Olenin. 'We'll have a drop of CHIKHIR.' + +'I might as well,' said the old man, 'but take the pheasants.' The old +man's face showed that he liked the cadet. He had seen at once that he +could get free drinks from him, and that therefore it would be all +right to give him a brace of pheasants. + +Soon Daddy Eroshka's figure appeared in the doorway of the hut, and it +was only then that Olenin became fully conscious of the enormous size +and sturdy build of this man, whose red-brown face with its perfectly +white broad beard was all furrowed by deep lines produced by age and +toil. For an old man, the muscles of his legs, arms, and shoulders were +quite exceptionally large and prominent. There were deep scars on his +head under the short-cropped hair. His thick sinewy neck was covered +with deep intersecting folds like a bull's. His horny hands were +bruised and scratched. He stepped lightly and easily over the +threshold, unslung his gun and placed it in a corner, and casting a +rapid glance round the room noted the value of the goods and chattels +deposited in the hut, and with out-turned toes stepped softly, in his +sandals of raw hide, into the middle of the room. He brought with him a +penetrating but not unpleasant smell of CHIKHIR wine, vodka, gunpowder, +and congealed blood. + +Daddy Eroshka bowed down before the icons, smoothed his beard, and +approaching Olenin held out his thick brown hand. 'Koshkildy,' said he; +That is Tartar for "Good-day"--"Peace be unto you," it means in their +tongue.' + +'Koshkildy, I know,' answered Olenin, shaking hands. + +'Eh, but you don't, you won't know the right order! Fool!' said Daddy +Eroshka, shaking his head reproachfully. 'If anyone says "Koshkildy" to +you, you must say "Allah rasi bo sun," that is, "God save you." That's +the way, my dear fellow, and not "Koshkildy." But I'll teach you all +about it. We had a fellow here, Elias Mosevich, one of your Russians, +he and I were kunaks. He was a trump, a drunkard, a thief, a +sportsman--and what a sportsman! I taught him everything.' + +'And what will you teach me?' asked Olenin, who was becoming more and +more interested in the old man. + +'I'll take you hunting and teach you to fish. I'll show you Chechens +and find a girl for you, if you like--even that! That's the sort I am! +I'm a wag!'--and the old man laughed. 'I'll sit down. I'm tired. +Karga?' he added inquiringly. + +'And what does "Karga" mean?' asked Olenin. + +'Why, that means "All right" in Georgian. But I say it just so. It is a +way I have, it's my favourite word. Karga, Karga. I say it just so; in +fun I mean. Well, lad, won't you order the chikhir? You've got an +orderly, haven't you? Hey, Ivan!' shouted the old man. 'All your +soldiers are Ivans. Is yours Ivan?' + +'True enough, his name is Ivan--Vanyusha. Here Vanyusha! Please get +some chikhir from our landlady and bring it here.' + +'Ivan or Vanyusha, that's all one. Why are all your soldiers Ivans? +Ivan, old fellow,' said the old man, 'you tell them to give you some +from the barrel they have begun. They have the best chikhir in the +village. But don't give more than thirty kopeks for the quart, mind, +because that witch would be only too glad.... Our people are anathema +people; stupid people,' Daddy Eroshka continued in a confidential tone +after Vanyusha had gone out. 'They do not look upon you as on men, you +are worse than a Tartar in their eyes. "Worldly Russians" they say. But +as for me, though you are a soldier you are still a man, and have a +soul in you. Isn't that right? Elias Mosevich was a soldier, yet what a +treasure of a man he was! Isn't that so, my dear fellow? That's why our +people don't like me; but I don't care! I'm a merry fellow, and I like +everybody. I'm Eroshka; yes, my dear fellow.' + +And the old Cossack patted the young man affectionately on the shoulder. + + + + +Chapter XII + + +Vanyusha, who meanwhile had finished his housekeeping arrangements and +had even been shaved by the company's barber and had pulled his +trousers out of his high boots as a sign that the company was stationed +in comfortable quarters, was in excellent spirits. He looked +attentively but not benevolently at Eroshka, as at a wild beast he had +never seen before, shook his head at the floor which the old man had +dirtied and, having taken two bottles from under a bench, went to the +landlady. + +'Good evening, kind people,' he said, having made up his mind to be +very gentle. 'My master has sent me to get some chikhir. Will you draw +some for me, good folk?' + +The old woman gave no answer. The girl, who was arranging the kerchief +on her head before a little Tartar mirror, looked round at Vanyusha in +silence. + +'I'll pay money for it, honoured people,' said Vanyusha, jingling the +coppers in his pocket. 'Be kind to us and we, too will be kind to you,' +he added. + +'How much?' asked the old woman abruptly. 'A quart.' + +'Go, my own, draw some for them,' said Granny Ulitka to her daughter. +'Take it from the cask that's begun, my precious.' + +The girl took the keys and a decanter and went out of the hut with +Vanyusha. + +'Tell me, who is that young woman?' asked Olenin, pointing to Maryanka, +who was passing the window. The old man winked and nudged the young man +with his elbow. + +'Wait a bit,' said he and reached out of the window. 'Khm,' he coughed, +and bellowed, 'Maryanka dear. Hallo, Maryanka, my girlie, won't you +love me, darling? I'm a wag,' he added in a whisper to Olenin. The +girl, not turning her head and swinging her arms regularly and +vigorously, passed the window with the peculiarly smart and bold gait +of a Cossack woman and only turned her dark shaded eyes slowly towards +the old man. + +'Love me and you'll be happy,' shouted Eroshka, winking, and he looked +questioningly at the cadet. + +'I'm a fine fellow, I'm a wag!' he added. 'She's a regular queen, that +girl. Eh?' + +'She is lovely,' said Olenin. 'Call her here!' + +'No, no,' said the old man. 'For that one a match is being arranged +with Lukashka, Luke, a fine Cossack, a brave, who killed an abrek the +other day. I'll find you a better one. I'll find you one that will be +all dressed up in silk and silver. Once I've said it I'll do it. I'll +get you a regular beauty!' + +'You, an old man--and say such things,' replied Olenin. 'Why, it's a +sin!' + +'A sin? Where's the sin?' said the old man emphatically. 'A sin to look +at a nice girl? A sin to have some fun with her? Or is it a sin to love +her? Is that so in your parts? ... No, my dear fellow, it's not a sin, +it's salvation! God made you and God made the girl too. He made it all; +so it is no sin to look at a nice girl. That's what she was made for; +to be loved and to give joy. That's how I judge it, my good fellow.' + +Having crossed the yard and entered a cool dark storeroom filled with +barrels, Maryanka went up to one of them and repeating the usual prayer +plunged a dipper into it. Vanyusha standing in the doorway smiled as he +looked at her. He thought it very funny that she had only a smock on, +close-fitting behind and tucked up in front, and still funnier that she +wore a necklace of silver coins. He thought this quite un-Russian and +that they would all laugh in the serfs' quarters at home if they saw a +girl like that. 'La fille comme c'est tres bien, for a change,' he +thought. 'I'll tell that to my master.' + +'What are you standing in the light for, you devil!' the girl suddenly +shouted. 'Why don't you pass me the decanter!' + +Having filled the decanter with cool red wine, Maryanka handed it to +Vanyusha. + +'Give the money to Mother,' she said, pushing away the hand in which he +held the money. + +Vanyusha laughed. + +'Why are you so cross, little dear?' he said good-naturedly, +irresolutely shuffling with his feet while the girl was covering the +barrel. + +She began to laugh. + +'And you! Are you kind?' + +'We, my master and I, are very kind,' Vanyusha answered decidedly. 'We +are so kind that wherever we have stayed our hosts were always very +grateful. It's because he's generous.' + +The girl stood listening. + +'And is your master married?' she asked. + +'No. The master is young and unmarried, because noble gentlemen can +never marry young,' said Vanyusha didactically. + +'A likely thing! See what a fed-up buffalo he is--and too young to +marry! Is he the chief of you all?' she asked. + +'My master is a cadet; that means he's not yet an officer, but he's +more important than a general--he's an important man! Because not only +our colonel, but the Tsar himself, knows him,' proudly explained +Vanyusha. 'We are not like those other beggars in the line regiment, +and our papa himself was a Senator. He had more than a thousand serfs, +all his own, and they send us a thousand rubles at a time. That's why +everyone likes us. Another may be a captain but have no money. What's +the use of that?' + +'Go away. I'll lock up,' said the girl, interrupting him. + +Vanyusha brought Olenin the wine and announced that 'La fille c'est +tres joulie,' and, laughing stupidly, at once went out. + + + + +Chapter XIII + + +Meanwhile the tattoo had sounded in the village square. The people had +returned from their work. The herd lowed as in clouds of golden dust it +crowded at the village gate. The girls and the women hurried through +the streets and yards, turning in their cattle. The sun had quite +hidden itself behind the distant snowy peaks. One pale bluish shadow +spread over land and sky. Above the darkened gardens stars just +discernible were kindling, and the sounds were gradually hushed in the +village. The cattle having been attended to and left for the night, the +women came out and gathered at the corners of the streets and, cracking +sunflower seeds with their teeth, settled down on the earthen +embankments of the houses. Later on Maryanka, having finished milking +the buffalo and the other two cows, also joined one of these groups. + +The group consisted of several women and girls and one old Cossack man. + +They were talking about the abrek who had been killed. + +The Cossack was narrating and the women questioning him. + +'I expect he'll get a handsome reward,' said one of the women. + +'Of course. It's said that they'll send him a cross.' + +'Mosev did try to wrong him. Took the gun away from him, but the +authorities at Kizlyar heard of it.' + +'A mean creature that Mosev is!' + +'They say Lukashka has come home,' remarked one of the girls. + +'He and Nazarka are merry-making at Yamka's.' (Yamka was an unmarried, +disreputable Cossack woman who kept an illicit pot-house.) 'I heard say +they had drunk half a pailful.' + +'What luck that Snatcher has,' somebody remarked. 'A real snatcher. But +there's no denying he's a fine lad, smart enough for anything, a +right-minded lad! His father was just such another. Daddy Kiryak was: +he takes after his father. When he was killed the whole village howled. +Look, there they are,' added the speaker, pointing to the Cossacks who +were coming down the street towards them. + +'And Ergushov has managed to come along with them too! The drunkard!' + +Lukashka, Nazarka, and Ergushov, having emptied half a pail of vodka, +were coming towards the girls. The faces of all three, but especially +that of the old Cossack, were redder than usual. Ergushov was reeling +and kept laughing and nudging Nazarka in the ribs. + +'Why are you not singing?' he shouted to the girls. 'Sing to our +merry-making, I tell you!' + +They were welcomed with the words, 'Had a good day? Had a good day?' + +'Why sing? It's not a holiday,' said one of the women. 'You're tight, +so you go and sing.' + +Ergushov roared with laughter and nudged Nazarka. 'You'd better sing. +And I'll begin too. I'm clever, I tell you.' + +'Are you asleep, fair ones?' said Nazarka. 'We've come from the cordon +to drink your health. We've already drunk Lukashka's health.' + +Lukashka, when he reached the group, slowly raised his cap and stopped +in front of the girls. His broad cheekbones and neck were red. He stood +and spoke softly and sedately, but in his tranquillity and sedateness +there was more of animation and strength than in all Nazarka's +loquacity and bustle. He reminded one of a playful colt that with a +snort and a flourish of its tail suddenly stops short and stands as +though nailed to the ground with all four feet. Lukashka stood quietly +in front of the girls, his eyes laughed, and he spoke but little as he +glanced now at his drunken companions and now at the girls. When +Maryanka joined the group he raised his cap with a firm deliberate +movement, moved out of her way and then stepped in front of her with +one foot a little forward and with his thumbs in his belt, fingering +his dagger. Maryanka answered his greeting with a leisurely bow of her +head, settled down on the earth-bank, and took some seeds out of the +bosom of her smock. Lukashka, keeping his eyes fixed on Maryanka, +slowly cracked seeds and spat out the shells. All were quiet when +Maryanka joined the group. + +'Have you come for long?' asked a woman, breaking the silence. + +'Till to-morrow morning,' quietly replied Lukashka. + +'Well, God grant you get something good,' said the Cossack; 'I'm glad +of it, as I've just been saying.' + +'And I say so too,' put in the tipsy Ergushov, laughing. 'What a lot of +visitors have come,' he added, pointing to a soldier who was passing +by. 'The soldiers' vodka is good--I like it.' + +'They've sent three of the devils to us,' said one of the women. +'Grandad went to the village Elders, but they say nothing can be done.' + +'Ah, ha! Have you met with trouble?' said Ergushov. + +'I expect they have smoked you out with their tobacco?' asked another +woman. 'Smoke as much as you like in the yard, I say, but we won't +allow it inside the hut. Not if the Elder himself comes, I won't allow +it. Besides, they may rob you. He's not quartered any of them on +himself, no fear, that devil's son of an Elder.' + +'You don't like it?' Ergushov began again. + +'And I've also heard say that the girls will have to make the soldiers' +beds and offer them chikhir and honey,' said Nazarka, putting one foot +forward and tilting his cap like Lukashka. + +Ergushov burst into a roar of laughter, and seizing the girl nearest to +him, he embraced her. 'I tell you true.' + +'Now then, you black pitch!' squealed the girl, 'I'll tell your old +woman.' + +'Tell her,' shouted he. 'That's quite right what Nazarka says; a +circular has been sent round. He can read, you know. Quite true!' And +he began embracing the next girl. + +'What are you up to, you beast?' squealed the rosy, round-faced +Ustenka, laughing and lifting her arm to hit him. + +The Cossack stepped aside and nearly fell. + +'There, they say girls have no strength, and you nearly killed me.' + +'Get away, you black pitch, what devil has brought you from the +cordon?' said Ustenka, and turning away from him she again burst out +laughing. 'You were asleep and missed the abrek, didn't you? Suppose he +had done for you it would have been all the better.' + +'You'd have howled, I expect,' said Nazarka, laughing. + +'Howled! A likely thing.' + +'Just look, she doesn't care. She'd howl, Nazarka, eh? Would she?' said +Ergushov. + +Lukishka all this time had stood silently looking at Maryanka. His gaze +evidently confused the girl. + +'Well, Maryanka! I hear they've quartered one of the chiefs on you?' he +said, drawing nearer. + +Maryanka, as was her wont, waited before she replied, and slowly +raising her eyes looked at the Cossack. Lukashka's eyes were laughing +as if something special, apart from what was said, was taking place +between himself and the girl. + +'Yes, it's all right for them as they have two huts,' replied an old +woman on Maryanka's behalf, 'but at Fomushkin's now they also have one +of the chiefs quartered on them and they say one whole corner is packed +full with his things, and the family have no room left. Was such a +thing ever heard of as that they should turn a whole horde loose in the +village?' she said. 'And what the plague are they going to do here?' + +'I've heard say they'll build a bridge across the Terek,' said one of +the girls. + +'And I've been told that they will dig a pit to put the girls in +because they don't love the lads,' said Nazarka, approaching Ustenka; +and he again made a whimsical gesture which set everybody laughing, and +Ergushov, passing by Maryanka, who was next in turn, began to embrace +an old woman. + +'Why don't you hug Maryanka? You should do it to each in turn,' said +Nazarka. + +'No, my old one is sweeter,' shouted the Cossack, kissing the +struggling old woman. + +'You'll throttle me,' she screamed, laughing. + +The tramp of regular footsteps at the other end of the street +interrupted their laughter. Three soldiers in their cloaks, with their +muskets on their shoulders, were marching in step to relieve guard by +the ammunition wagon. + +The corporal, an old cavalry man, looked angrily at the Cossacks and +led his men straight along the road where Lukashka and Nazarka were +standing, so that they should have to get out of the way. Nazarka +moved, but Lukashka only screwed up his eyes and turned his broad back +without moving from his place. + +'People are standing here, so you go round,' he muttered, half turning +his head and tossing it contemptuously in the direction of the soldiers. + +The soldiers passed by in silence, keeping step regularly along the +dusty road. + +Maryanka began laughing and all the other girls chimed in. + +'What swells!' said Nazarka, 'Just like long-skirted choristers,' and +he walked a few steps down the road imitating the soldiers. + +Again everyone broke into peals of laughter. + +Lukashka came slowly up to Maryanka. + +'And where have you put up the chief?' he asked. + +Maryanka thought for a moment. + +'We've let him have the new hut,' she said. + +'And is he old or young,' asked Lukashka, sitting down beside her. + +'Do you think I've asked?' answered the girl. 'I went to get him some +chikhir and saw him sitting at the window with Daddy Eroshka. +Red-headed he seemed. They've brought a whole cartload of things.' + +And she dropped her eyes. + +'Oh, how glad I am that I got leave from the cordon!' said Lukashka, +moving closer to the girl and looking straight in her eyes all the time. + +'And have you come for long?' asked Maryanka, smiling slightly. + +'Till the morning. Give me some sunflower seeds,' he said, holding out +his hand. + +Maryanka now smiled outright and unfastened the neckband of her smock. + +'Don't take them all,' she said. + +'Really I felt so dull all the time without you, I swear I did,' he +said in a calm, restrained whisper, helping himself to some seeds out +of the bosom of the girl's smock, and stooping still closer over her he +continued with laughing eyes to talk to her in low tones. + +'I won't come, I tell you,' Maryanka suddenly said aloud, leaning away +from him. + +'No really ... what I wanted to say to you, ...' whispered Lukashka. +'By the Heavens! Do come!' + +Maryanka shook her head, but did so with a smile. + +'Nursey Maryanka! Hallo Nursey! Mammy is calling! Supper time!' shouted +Maryanka's little brother, running towards the group. + +'I'm coming,' replied the girl. 'Go, my dear, go alone--I'll come in a +minute.' + +Lukashka rose and raised his cap. + +'I expect I had better go home too, that will be best,' he said, trying +to appear unconcerned but hardly able to repress a smile, and he +disappeared behind the corner of the house. + +Meanwhile night had entirely enveloped the village. Bright stars were +scattered over the dark sky. The streets became dark and empty. Nazarka +remained with the women on the earth-bank and their laughter was still +heard, but Lukashka, having slowly moved away from the girls, crouched +down like a cat and then suddenly started running lightly, holding his +dagger to steady it: not homeward, however, but towards the cornet's +house. Having passed two streets he turned into a lane and lifting the +skirt of his coat sat down on the ground in the shadow of a fence. 'A +regular cornet's daughter!' he thought about Maryanka. 'Won't even have +a lark--the devil! But just wait a bit.' + +The approaching footsteps of a woman attracted his attention. He began +listening, and laughed all by himself. Maryanka with bowed head, +striking the pales of the fences with a switch, was walking with rapid +regular strides straight towards him. Lukashka rose. Maryanka started +and stopped. + +'What an accursed devil! You frightened me! So you have not gone home?' +she said, and laughed aloud. + +Lukashka put one arm round her and with the other hand raised her face. +'What I wanted to tell you, by Heaven!' his voice trembled and broke. + +'What are you talking of, at night time!' answered Maryanka. 'Mother is +waiting for me, and you'd better go to your sweetheart.' + +And freeing herself from his arms she ran away a few steps. When she +had reached the wattle fence of her home she stopped and turned to the +Cossack who was running beside her and still trying to persuade her to +stay a while with him. + +'Well, what do you want to say, midnight-gadabout?' and she again began +laughing. + +'Don't laugh at me, Maryanka! By the Heaven! Well, what if I have a +sweetheart? May the devil take her! Only say the word and now I'll love +you--I'll do anything you wish. Here they are!' and he jingled the +money in his pocket. 'Now we can live splendidly. Others have +pleasures, and I? I get no pleasure from you, Maryanka dear!' + +The girl did not answer. She stood before him breaking her switch into +little bits with a rapid movement of her fingers. + +Lukashka suddenly clenched his teeth and fists. + +'And why keep waiting and waiting? Don't I love you, darling? You can +do what you like with me,' said he suddenly, frowning angrily and +seizing both her hands. + +The calm expression of Maryanka's face and voice did not change. + +'Don't bluster, Lukashka, but listen to me,' she answered, not pulling +away her hands but holding the Cossack at arm's length. 'It's true I am +a girl, but you listen to me! It does not depend on me, but if you love +me I'll tell you this. Let go my hands, I'll tell you without.--I'll +marry you, but you'll never get any nonsense from me,' said Maryanka +without turning her face. + +'What, you'll marry me? Marriage does not depend on us. Love me +yourself, Maryanka dear,' said Lukashka, from sullen and furious +becoming again gentle, submissive, and tender, and smiling as he looked +closely into her eyes. + +Maryanka clung to him and kissed him firmly on the lips. + +'Brother dear!' she whispered, pressing him convulsively to her. Then, +suddenly tearing herself away, she ran into the gate of her house +without looking round. + +In spite of the Cossack's entreaties to wait another minute to hear +what he had to say, Maryanka did not stop. + +'Go,' she cried, 'you'll be seen! I do believe that devil, our lodger, +is walking about the yard.' + +'Cornet's daughter,' thought Lukashka. 'She will marry me. Marriage is +all very well, but you just love me!' + +He found Nazarka at Yamka's house, and after having a spree with him +went to Dunayka's house, where, in spite of her not being faithful to +him, he spent the night. + + + + +Chapter XIV + + +It was quite true that Olenin had been walking about the yard when +Maryanka entered the gate, and had heard her say, 'That devil, our +lodger, is walking about.' He had spent that evening with Daddy Eroshka +in the porch of his new lodging. He had had a table, a samovar, wine, +and a candle brought out, and over a cup of tea and a cigar he listened +to the tales the old man told seated on the threshold at his feet. +Though the air was still, the candle dripped and flickered: now +lighting up the post of the porch, now the table and crockery, now the +cropped white head of the old man. Moths circled round the flame and, +shedding the dust of their wings, fluttered on the table and in the +glasses, flew into the candle flame, and disappeared in the black space +beyond. Olenin and Eroshka had emptied five bottles of chikhir. Eroshka +filled the glasses every time, offering one to Olenin, drinking his +health, and talking untiringly. He told of Cossack life in the old +days: of his father, 'The Broad', who alone had carried on his back a +boar's carcass weighing three hundredweight, and drank two pails of +chikhir at one sitting. He told of his own days and his chum Girchik, +with whom during the plague he used to smuggle felt cloaks across the +Terek. He told how one morning he had killed two deer, and about his +'little soul' who used to run to him at the cordon at night. He told +all this so eloquently and picturesquely that Olenin did not notice how +time passed. 'Ah yes, my dear fellow, you did not know me in my golden +days; then I'd have shown you things. Today it's "Eroshka licks the +jug", but then Eroshka was famous in the whole regiment. Whose was the +finest horse? Who had a Gurda sword? To whom should one go to get a +drink? With whom go on the spree? Who should be sent to the mountains +to kill Ahmet Khan? Why, always Eroshka! Whom did the girls love? +Always Eroshka had to answer for it. Because I was a real brave: a +drinker, a thief (I used to seize herds of horses in the mountains), a +singer; I was a master of every art! There are no Cossacks like that +nowadays. It's disgusting to look at them. When they're that high +[Eroshka held his hand three feet from the ground] they put on idiotic +boots and keep looking at them--that's all the pleasure they know. Or +they'll drink themselves foolish, not like men but all wrong. And who +was I? I was Eroshka, the thief; they knew me not only in this village +but up in the mountains. Tartar princes, my kunaks, used to come to see +me! I used to be everybody's kunak. If he was a Tartar--with a Tartar; +an Armenian--with an Armenian; a soldier--with a soldier; an +officer--with an officer! I didn't care as long as he was a drinker. He +says you should cleanse yourself from intercourse with the world, not +drink with soldiers, not eat with a Tartar.' + +'Who says all that?' asked Olenin. + +'Why, our teacher! But listen to a Mullah or a Tartar Cadi. He says, +"You unbelieving Giaours, why do you eat pig?" That shows that everyone +has his own law. But I think it's all one. God has made everything for +the joy of man. There is no sin in any of it. Take example from an +animal. It lives in the Tartar's reeds or in ours. Wherever it happens +to go, there is its home! Whatever God gives it, that it eats! But our +people say we have to lick red-hot plates in hell for that. And I think +it's all a fraud,' he added after a pause. + +'What is a fraud?' asked Olenin. + +'Why, what the preachers say. We had an army captain in Chervlena who +was my kunak: a fine fellow just like me. He was killed in Chechnya. +Well, he used to say that the preachers invent all that out of their +own heads. "When you die the grass will grow on your grave and that's +all!"' The old man laughed. 'He was a desperate fellow.' + +'And how old are you?' asked Olenin. + +'The Lord only knows! I must be about seventy. When a Tsaritsa reigned +in Russia I was no longer very small. So you can reckon it out. I must +be seventy.' + +'Yes you must, but you are still a fine fellow.' + +'Well, thank Heaven I am healthy, quite healthy, except that a woman, a +witch, has harmed me....' + +'How?' + +'Oh, just harmed me.' + +'And so when you die the grass will grow?' repeated Olenin. + +Eroshka evidently did not wish to express his thought clearly. He was +silent for a while. + +'And what did you think? Drink!' he shouted suddenly, smiling and +handing Olenin some wine. + + + + +Chapter XV + + +'Well, what was I saying?' he continued, trying to remember. 'Yes, +that's the sort of man I am. I am a hunter. There is no hunter to equal +me in the whole army. I will find and show you any animal and any bird, +and what and where. I know it all! I have dogs, and two guns, and nets, +and a screen and a hawk. I have everything, thank the Lord! If you are +not bragging but are a real sportsman, I'll show you everything. Do you +know what a man I am? When I have found a track--I know the animal. I +know where he will lie down and where he'll drink or wallow. I make +myself a perch and sit there all night watching. What's the good of +staying at home? One only gets into mischief, gets drunk. And here +women come and chatter, and boys shout at me--enough to drive one mad. +It's a different matter when you go out at nightfall, choose yourself a +place, press down the reeds and sit there and stay waiting, like a +jolly fellow. One knows everything that goes on in the woods. One looks +up at the sky: the stars move, you look at them and find out from them +how the time goes. One looks round--the wood is rustling; one goes on +waiting, now there comes a crackling--a boar comes to rub himself; one +listens to hear the young eaglets screech and then the cocks give voice +in the village, or the geese. When you hear the geese you know it is +not yet midnight. And I know all about it! Or when a gun is fired +somewhere far away, thoughts come to me. One thinks, who is that +firing? Is it another Cossack like myself who has been watching for +some animal? And has he killed it? Or only wounded it so that now the +poor thing goes through the reeds smearing them with its blood all for +nothing? I don't like that! Oh, how I dislike it! Why injure a beast? +You fool, you fool! Or one thinks, "Maybe an abrek has killed some +silly little Cossack." All this passes through one's mind. And once as +I sat watching by the river I saw a cradle floating down. It was sound +except for one corner which was broken off. Thoughts did come that +time! I thought some of your soldiers, the devils, must have got into a +Tartar village and seized the Chechen women, and one of the devils has +killed the little one: taken it by its legs, and hit its head against a +wall. Don't they do such things? Ah! Men have no souls! And thoughts +came to me that filled me with pity. I thought: they've thrown away the +cradle and driven the wife out, and her brave has taken his gun and +come across to our side to rob us. One watches and thinks. And when one +hears a litter breaking through the thicket, something begins to knock +inside one. Dear one, come this way! "They'll scent me," one thinks; +and one sits and does not stir while one's heart goes dun! dun! dun! +and simply lifts you. Once this spring a fine litter came near me, I +saw something black. "In the name of the Father and of the Son," and I +was just about to fire when she grunts to her pigs: "Danger, children," +she says, "there's a man here," and off they all ran, breaking through +the bushes. And she had been so close I could almost have bitten her.' + +'How could a sow tell her brood that a man was there?' asked Olenin. + +'What do you think? You think the beast's a fool? No, he is wiser than +a man though you do call him a pig! He knows everything. Take this for +instance. A man will pass along your track and not notice it; but a pig +as soon as it gets onto your track turns and runs at once: that shows +there is wisdom in him, since he scents your smell and you don't. And +there is this to be said too: you wish to kill it and it wishes to go +about the woods alive. You have one law and it has another. It is a +pig, but it is no worse than you--it too is God's creature. Ah, dear! +Man is foolish, foolish, foolish!' The old man repeated this several +times and then, letting his head drop, he sat thinking. + +Olenin also became thoughtful, and descending from the porch with his +hands behind his back began pacing up and down the yard. + +Eroshka, rousing himself, raised his head and began gazing intently at +the moths circling round the flickering flame of the candle and burning +themselves in it. + +'Fool, fool!' he said. 'Where are you flying to? Fool, fool!' He rose +and with his thick fingers began to drive away the moths. + +'You'll burn, little fool! Fly this way, there's plenty of room.' He +spoke tenderly, trying to catch them delicately by their wings with his +thick fingers and then letting them fly again. 'You are killing +yourself and I am sorry for you!' + +He sat a long time chattering and sipping out of the bottle. Olenin +paced up and down the yard. Suddenly he was struck by the sound of +whispering outside the gate. Involuntarily holding his breath, he heard +a woman's laughter, a man's voice, and the sound of a kiss. +Intentionally rustling the grass under his feet he crossed to the +opposite side of the yard, but after a while the wattle fence creaked. +A Cossack in a dark Circassian coat and a white sheepskin cap passed +along the other side of the fence (it was Luke), and a tall woman with +a white kerchief on her head went past Olenin. 'You and I have nothing +to do with one another' was what Maryanka's firm step gave him to +understand. He followed her with his eyes to the porch of the hut, and +he even saw her through the window take off her kerchief and sit down. +And suddenly a feeling of lonely depression and some vague longings and +hopes, and envy of someone or other, overcame the young man's soul. + +The last lights had been put out in the huts. The last sounds had died +away in the village. The wattle fences and the cattle gleaming white in +the yards, the roofs of the houses and the stately poplars, all seemed +to be sleeping the labourers' healthy peaceful sleep. Only the +incessant ringing voices of frogs from the damp distance reached the +young man. In the east the stars were growing fewer and fewer and +seemed to be melting in the increasing light, but overhead they were +denser and deeper than before. The old man was dozing with his head on +his hand. A cock crowed in the yard opposite, but Olenin still paced up +and down thinking of something. The sound of a song sung by several +voices reached him and he stepped up to the fence and listened. The +voices of several young Cossacks carolled a merry song, and one voice +was distinguishable among them all by its firm strength. + +'Do you know who is singing there?' said the old man, rousing himself. +'It is the Brave, Lukashka. He has killed a Chechen and now he +rejoices. And what is there to rejoice at? ... The fool, the fool!' + +'And have you ever killed people?' asked Olenin. + +'You devil!' shouted the old man. 'What are you asking? One must not +talk so. It is a serious thing to destroy a human being ... Ah, a very +serious thing! Good-bye, my dear fellow. I've eaten my fill and am +drunk,' he said rising. 'Shall I come to-morrow to go shooting?' + +'Yes, come!' + +'Mind, get up early; if you oversleep you will be fined!' + +'Never fear, I'll be up before you,' answered Olenin. + +The old man left. The song ceased, but one could hear footsteps and +merry talk. A little later the singing broke out again but farther +away, and Eroshka's loud voice chimed in with the other. 'What people, +what a life!' thought Olenin with a sigh as he returned alone to his +hut. + + + + +Chapter XVI + + +Daddy Eroshka was a superannuated and solitary Cossack: twenty years +ago his wife had gone over to the Orthodox Church and run away from him +and married a Russian sergeant-major, and he had no children. He was +not bragging when he spoke of himself as having been the boldest +dare-devil in the village when he was young. Everybody in the regiment +knew of his old-time prowess. The death of more than one Russian, as +well as Chechen, lay on his conscience. He used to go plundering in the +mountains, and robbed the Russians too; and he had twice been in +prison. The greater part of his life was spent in the forests, hunting. +There he lived for days on a crust of bread and drank nothing but +water. But on the other hand, when he was in the village he made merry +from morning to night. After leaving Olenin he slept for a couple of +hours and awoke before it was light. He lay on his bed thinking of the +man he had become acquainted with the evening before. Olenin's +'simplicity' (simplicity in the sense of not grudging him a drink) +pleased him very much, and so did Olenin himself. He wondered why the +Russians were all 'simple' and so rich, and why they were educated, and +yet knew nothing. He pondered on these questions and also considered +what he might get out of Olenin. + +Daddy Eroshka's hut was of a good size and not old, but the absence of +a woman was very noticeable in it. Contrary to the usual cleanliness of +the Cossacks, the whole of this hut was filthy and exceedingly untidy. +A blood-stained coat had been thrown on the table, half a dough-cake +lay beside a plucked and mangled crow with which to feed the hawk. +Sandals of raw hide, a gun, a dagger, a little bag, wet clothes, and +sundry rags lay scattered on the benches. In a corner stood a tub with +stinking water, in which another pair of sandals were being steeped, +and near by was a gun and a hunting-screen. On the floor a net had been +thrown down and several dead pheasants lay there, while a hen tied by +its leg was walking about near the table pecking among the dirt. In the +unheated oven stood a broken pot with some kind of milky liquid. On the +top of the oven a falcon was screeching and trying to break the cord by +which it was tied, and a moulting hawk sat quietly on the edge of the +oven, looking askance at the hen and occasionally bowing its head to +right and left. Daddy Eroshka himself, in his shirt, lay on his back on +a short bed rigged up between the wall and the oven, with his strong +legs raised and his feet on the oven. He was picking with his thick +fingers at the scratches left on his hands by the hawk, which he was +accustomed to carry without wearing gloves. The whole room, especially +near the old man, was filled with that strong but not unpleasant +mixture of smells that he always carried about with him. + +'Uyde-ma, Daddy?' (Is Daddy in?) came through the window in a sharp +voice, which he at once recognized as Lukashka's. + +'Uyde, Uyde, Uyde. I am in!' shouted the old man. 'Come in, neighbour +Mark, Luke Mark. Come to see Daddy? On your way to the cordon?' + +At the sound of his master's shout the hawk flapped his wings and +pulled at his cord. + +The old man was fond of Lukashka, who was the only man he excepted from +his general contempt for the younger generation of Cossacks. Besides +that, Lukashka and his mother, as near neighbours, often gave the old +man wine, clotted cream, and other home produce which Eroshka did not +possess. Daddy Eroshka, who all his life had allowed himself to get +carried away, always explained his infatuations from a practical point +of view. 'Well, why not?' he used to say to himself. 'I'll give them +some fresh meat, or a bird, and they won't forget Daddy: they'll +sometimes bring a cake or a piece of pie.' + +'Good morning. Mark! I am glad to see you,' shouted the old man +cheerfully, and quickly putting down his bare feet he jumped off his +bed and walked a step or two along the creaking floor, looked down at +his out-turned toes, and suddenly, amused by the appearance of his +feet, smiled, stamped with his bare heel on the ground, stamped again, +and then performed a funny dance-step. 'That's clever, eh?' he asked, +his small eyes glistening. Lukashka smiled faintly. 'Going back to the +cordon?' asked the old man. + +'I have brought the chikhir I promised you when we were at the cordon.' + +'May Christ save you!' said the old man, and he took up the extremely +wide trousers that were lying on the floor, and his beshmet, put them +on, fastened a strap round his waist, poured some water from an +earthenware pot over his hands, wiped them on the old trousers, +smoothed his beard with a bit of comb, and stopped in front of +Lukashka. 'Ready,' he said. + +Lukashka fetched a cup, wiped it and filled it with wine, and then +handed it to the old man. + +'Your health! To the Father and the Son!' said the old man, accepting +the wine with solemnity. 'May you have what you desire, may you always +be a hero, and obtain a cross.' + +Lukashka also drank a little after repeating a prayer, and then put the +wine on the table. The old man rose and brought out some dried fish +which he laid on the threshold, where he beat it with a stick to make +it tender; then, having put it with his horny hands on a blue plate +(his only one), he placed it on the table. + +'I have all I want. I have victuals, thank God!' he said proudly. +'Well, and what of Mosev?' he added. + +Lukashka, evidently wishing to know the old man's opinion, told him how +the officer had taken the gun from him. + +'Never mind the gun,' said the old man. 'If you don't give the gun you +will get no reward.' + +'But they say. Daddy, it's little reward a fellow gets when he is not +yet a mounted Cossack; and the gun is a fine one, a Crimean, worth +eighty rubles.' + +'Eh, let it go! I had a dispute like that with an officer, he wanted my +horse. "Give it me and you'll be made a cornet," says he. I wouldn't, +and I got nothing!' + +'Yes, Daddy, but you see I have to buy a horse; and they say you can't +get one the other side of the river under fifty rubles, and mother has +not yet sold our wine.' + +'Eh, we didn't bother,' said the old man; 'when Daddy Eroshka was your +age he already stole herds of horses from the Nogay folk and drove them +across the Terek. Sometimes we'd give a fine horse for a quart of vodka +or a cloak.' + +'Why so cheap?' asked Lukashka. + +'You're a fool, a fool, Mark,' said the old man contemptuously. 'Why, +that's what one steals for, so as not to be stingy! As for you, I +suppose you haven't so much as seen how one drives off a herd of +horses? Why don't you speak?' + +'What's one to say. Daddy?' replied Lukashka. 'It seems we are not the +same sort of men as you were.' + +'You're a fool. Mark, a fool! "Not the same sort of men!"' retorted the +old man, mimicking the Cossack lad. 'I was not that sort of Cossack at +your age.' + +'How's that?' asked Lukashka. + +The old man shook his head contemptuously. + +'Daddy Eroshka was simple; he did not grudge anything! That's why I was +kunak with all Chechnya. A kunak would come to visit me and I'd make +him drunk with vodka and make him happy and put him to sleep with me, +and when I went to see him I'd take him a present--a dagger! That's the +way it is done, and not as you do nowadays: the only amusement lads +have now is to crack seeds and spit out the shells!' the old man +finished contemptuously, imitating the present-day Cossacks cracking +seeds and spitting out the shells. + +'Yes, I know,' said Lukashka; 'that's so!' + +'If you wish to be a fellow of the right sort, be a brave and not a +peasant! Because even a peasant can buy a horse--pay the money and take +the horse.' + +They were silent for a while. + +'Well, of course it's dull both in the village and the cordon, Daddy: +but there's nowhere one can go for a bit of sport. All our fellows are +so timid. Take Nazarka. The other day when we went to the Tartar +village, Girey Khan asked us to come to Nogay to take some horses, but +no one went, and how was I to go alone?' + +'And what of Daddy? Do you think I am quite dried up? ... No, I'm not +dried up. Let me have a horse and I'll be off to Nogay at once.' + +'What's the good of talking nonsense!' said Luke. 'You'd better tell me +what to do about Girey Khan. He says, "Only bring horses to the Terek, +and then even if you bring a whole stud I'll find a place for them." +You see he's also a shaven-headed Tartar--how's one to believe him?' + +'You may trust Girey Khan, all his kin were good people. His father too +was a faithful kunak. But listen to Daddy and I won't teach you wrong: +make him take an oath, then it will be all right. And if you go with +him, have your pistol ready all the same, especially when it comes to +dividing up the horses. I was nearly killed that way once by a Chechen. +I wanted ten rubles from him for a horse. Trusting is all right, but +don't go to sleep without a gun.' Lukashka listened attentively to the +old man. + +'I say. Daddy, have you any stone-break grass?' he asked after a pause. + +'No, I haven't any, but I'll teach you how to get it. You're a good lad +and won't forget the old man.... Shall I tell you?' + +'Tell me, Daddy.' + +'You know a tortoise? She's a devil, the tortoise is!' + +'Of course I know!' + +'Find her nest and fence it round so that she can't get in. Well, +she'll come, go round it, and then will go off to find the stone-break +grass and will bring some along and destroy the fence. Anyhow next +morning come in good time, and where the fence is broken there you'll +find the stone-break grass lying. Take it wherever you like. No lock +and no bar will be able to stop you.' + +'Have you tried it yourself. Daddy?' + +'As for trying, I have not tried it, but I was told of it by good +people. I used only one charm: that was to repeat the Pilgrim rhyme +when mounting my horse; and no one ever killed me!' + +'What is the Pilgrim rhyme. Daddy?' + +'What, don't you know it? Oh, what people! You're right to ask Daddy. +Well, listen, and repeat after me: + +'Hail! Ye, living in Sion, This is your King, Our steeds we shall sit +on, Sophonius is weeping. Zacharias is speaking, Father Pilgrim, +Mankind ever loving.' + +'Kind ever loving,' the old man repeated. 'Do you know it now? Try it.' + +Lukashka laughed. + +'Come, Daddy, was it that that hindered their killing you? Maybe it +just happened so!' + +'You've grown too clever! You learn it all, and say it. It will do you +no harm. Well, suppose you have sung "Pilgrim", it's all right,' and +the old man himself began laughing. 'But just one thing, Luke, don't +you go to Nogay!' + +'Why?' + +'Times have changed. You are not the same men. You've become rubbishy +Cossacks! And see how many Russians have come down on us! You'd get to +prison. Really, give it up! Just as if you could! Now Girchik and I, we +used...' + +And the old man was about to begin one of his endless tales, but +Lukashka glanced at the window and interrupted him. + +'It is quite light. Daddy. It's time to be off. Look us up some day.' + +'May Christ save you! I'll go to the officer; I promised to take him +out shooting. He seems a good fellow.' + + + + +Chapter XVII + + +From Eroshka's hut Lukashka went home. As he returned, the dewy mists +were rising from the ground and enveloped the village. In various +places the cattle, though out of sight, could be heard beginning to +stir. The cocks called to one another with increasing frequency and +insistence. The air was becoming more transparent, and the villagers +were getting up. Not till he was close to it could Lukishka discern the +fence of his yard, all wet with dew, the porch of the hut, and the open +shed. From the misty yard he heard the sound of an axe chopping wood. +Lukashka entered the hut. His mother was up, and stood at the oven +throwing wood into it. His little sister was still lying in bed asleep. + +'Well, Lukashka, had enough holiday-making?' asked his mother softly. +'Where did you spend the night?' + +'I was in the village,' replied her son reluctantly, reaching for his +musket, which he drew from its cover and examined carefully. + +His mother swayed her head. + +Lukashka poured a little gunpowder onto the pan, took out a little bag +from which he drew some empty cartridge cases which he began filling, +carefully plugging each one with a ball wrapped in a rag. Then, having +tested the loaded cartridges with his teeth and examined them, he put +down the bag. + +'I say, Mother, I told you the bags wanted mending; have they been +done?' he asked. + +'Oh yes, our dumb girl was mending something last night. Why, is it +time for you to be going back to the cordon? I haven't seen anything of +you!' + +'Yes, as soon as I have got ready I shall have to go,' answered +Lukashka, tying up the gunpowder. 'And where is our dumb one? Outside?' + +'Chopping wood, I expect. She kept fretting for you. "I shall not see +him at all!" she said. She puts her hand to her face like this, and +clicks her tongue and presses her hands to her heart as much as to +say--"sorry." Shall I call her in? She understood all about the abrek.' + +'Call her,' said Lukashka. 'And I had some tallow there; bring it: I +must grease my sword.' + +The old woman went out, and a few minutes later Lukashka's dumb sister +came up the creaking steps and entered the hut. She was six years older +than her brother and would have been extremely like him had it not been +for the dull and coarsely changeable expression (common to all deaf and +dumb people) of her face. She wore a coarse smock all patched; her feet +were bare and muddy, and on her head she had an old blue kerchief. Her +neck, arms, and face were sinewy like a peasant's. Her clothing and her +whole appearance indicated that she always did the hard work of a man. +She brought in a heap of logs which she threw down by the oven. Then +she went up to her brother, and with a joyful smile which made her +whole face pucker up, touched him on the shoulder and began making +rapid signs to him with her hands, her face, and whole body. + +'That's right, that's right, Stepka is a trump!' answered the brother, +nodding. 'She's fetched everything and mended everything, she's a +trump! Here, take this for it!' He brought out two pieces of +gingerbread from his pocket and gave them to her. + +The dumb woman's face flushed with pleasure, and she began making a +weird noise for joy. Having seized the gingerbread she began to +gesticulate still more rapidly, frequently pointing in one direction +and passing her thick finger over her eyebrows and her face. Lukashka +understood her and kept nodding, while he smiled slightly. She was +telling him to give the girls dainties, and that the girls liked him, +and that one girl, Maryanka--the best of them all--loved him. She +indicated Maryanka by rapidly pointing in the direction of Maryanka's +home and to her own eyebrows and face, and by smacking her lips and +swaying her head. 'Loves' she expressed by pressing her hands to her +breast, kissing her hand, and pretending to embrace someone. Their +mother returned to the hut, and seeing what her dumb daughter was +saying, smiled and shook her head. Her daughter showed her the +gingerbread and again made the noise which expressed joy. + +'I told Ulitka the other day that I'd send a matchmaker to them,' said +the mother. 'She took my words well.' + +Lukashka looked silently at his mother. + +'But how about selling the wine, mother? I need a horse.' + +'I'll cart it when I have time. I must get the barrels ready,' said the +mother, evidently not wishing her son to meddle in domestic matters. +'When you go out you'll find a bag in the passage. I borrowed from the +neighbours and got something for you to take back to the cordon; or +shall I put it in your saddle-bag?' + +'All right,' answered Lukashka. 'And if Girey Khan should come across +the river send him to me at the cordon, for I shan't get leave again +for a long time now; I have some business with him.' + +He began to get ready to start. + +'I will send him on,' said the old woman. 'It seems you have been +spreeing at Yamka's all the time. I went out in the night to see the +cattle, and I think it was your voice I heard singing songs.' + +Lukashka did not reply, but went out into the passage, threw the bags +over his shoulder, tucked up the skirts of his coat, took his musket, +and then stopped for a moment on the threshold. + +'Good-bye, mother!' he said as he closed the gate behind him. 'Send me +a small barrel with Nazarka. I promised it to the lads, and he'll call +for it.' + +'May Christ keep you, Lukashka. God be with you! I'll send you some, +some from the new barrel,' said the old woman, going to the fence: 'But +listen,' she added, leaning over the fence. + +The Cossack stopped. + +'You've been making merry here; well, that's all right. Why should not +a young man amuse himself? God has sent you luck and that's good. But +now look out and mind, my son. Don't you go and get into mischief. +Above all, satisfy your superiors: one has to! And I will sell the wine +and find money for a horse and will arrange a match with the girl for +you.' + +'All right, all right!' answered her son, frowning. + +His deaf sister shouted to attract his attention. She pointed to her +head and the palm of her hand, to indicate the shaved head of a +Chechen. Then she frowned, and pretending to aim with a gun, she +shrieked and began rapidly humming and shaking her head. This meant +that Lukashka should kill another Chechen. + +Lukashka understood. He smiled, and shifting the gun at his back under +his cloak stepped lightly and rapidly, and soon disappeared in the +thick mist. + +The old woman, having stood a little while at the gate, returned +silently to the hut and immediately began working. + + + + +Chapter XVIII + + +Lukasha returned to the cordon and at the same time Daddy Eroshka +whistled to his dogs and, climbing over his wattle fence, went to +Olenin's lodging, passing by the back of the houses (he disliked +meeting women before going out hunting or shooting). He found Olenin +still asleep, and even Vanyusha, though awake, was still in bed and +looking round the room considering whether it was not time to get up, +when Daddy Eroshka, gun on shoulder and in full hunter's trappings, +opened the door. + +'A cudgel!' he shouted in his deep voice. 'An alarm! The Chechens are +upon us! Ivan! get the samovar ready for your master, and get up +yourself--quick,' cried the old man. 'That's our way, my good man! Why +even the girls are already up! Look out of the window. See, she's going +for water and you're still sleeping!' + +Olenin awoke and jumped up, feeling fresh and lighthearted at the sight +of the old man and at the sound of his voice. + +'Quick, Vanyusha, quick!' he cried. + +'Is that the way you go hunting?' said the old man. 'Others are having +their breakfast and you are asleep! Lyam! Here!' he called to his dog. +'Is your gun ready?' he shouted, as loud as if a whole crowd were in +the hut. + +'Well, it's true I'm guilty, but it can't be helped! The powder, +Vanyusha, and the wads!' said Olenin. + +'A fine!' shouted the old man. + +'Du tay voulay vou?' asked Vanyusha, grinning. + +'You're not one of us--your gabble is not like our speech, you devil!' +the old man shouted at Vanyusha, showing the stumps of his teeth. + +'A first offence must be forgiven,' said Olenin playfully, drawing on +his high boots. + +'The first offence shall be forgiven,' answered Eroshka, 'but if you +oversleep another time you'll be fined a pail of chikhir. When it gets +warmer you won't find the deer.' + +'And even if we do find him he is wiser than we are,' said Olenin, +repeating the words spoken by the old man the evening before, 'and you +can't deceive him!' + +'Yes, laugh away! You kill one first, and then you may talk. Now then, +hurry up! Look, there's the master himself coming to see you,' added +Eroshka, looking out of the window. 'Just see how he's got himself up. +He's put on a new coat so that you should see that he's an officer. Ah, +these people, these people!' + +Sure enough Vanyusha came in and announced that the master of the house +wished to see Olenin. + +'L'arjan!' he remarked profoundly, to forewarn his master of the +meaning of this visitation. Following him, the master of the house in a +new Circassian coat with an officer's stripes on the shoulders and with +polished boots (quite exceptional among Cossacks) entered the room, +swaying from side to side, and congratulated his lodger on his safe +arrival. + +The cornet, Elias Vasilich, was an educated Cossack. He had been to +Russia proper, was a regimental schoolteacher, and above all he was +noble. He wished to appear noble, but one could not help feeling +beneath his grotesque pretence of polish, his affectation, his +self-confidence, and his absurd way of speaking, he was just the same +as Daddy Eroshka. This could also be clearly seen by his sunburnt face +and his hands and his red nose. Olenin asked him to sit down. + +'Good morning. Father Elias Vasilich,' said Eroshka, rising with (or so +it seemed to Olenin) an ironically low bow. + +'Good morning. Daddy. So you're here already,' said the cornet, with a +careless nod. + +The cornet was a man of about forty, with a grey pointed beard, skinny +and lean, but handsome and very fresh-looking for his age. Having come +to see Olenin he was evidently afraid of being taken for an ordinary +Cossack, and wanted to let Olenin feel his importance from the first. + +'That's our Egyptian Nimrod,' he remarked, addressing Olenin and +pointing to the old man with a self-satisfied smile. 'A mighty hunter +before the Lord! He's our foremost man on every hand. You've already +been pleased to get acquainted with him.' + +Daddy Eroshka gazed at his feet in their shoes of wet raw hide and +shook his head thoughtfully at the cornet's ability and learning, and +muttered to himself: 'Gyptian Nimvrod! What things he invents!' + +'Yes, you see we mean to go hunting,' answered Olenin. + +'Yes, sir, exactly,' said the cornet, 'but I have a small business with +you.' + +'What do you want?' + +'Seeing that you are a gentleman,' began the cornet, 'and as I may +understand myself to be in the rank of an officer too, and therefore we +may always progressively negotiate, as gentlemen do.' (He stopped and +looked with a smile at Olenin and at the old man.) 'But if you have the +desire with my consent, then, as my wife is a foolish woman of our +class, she could not quite comprehend your words of yesterday's date. +Therefore my quarters might be let for six rubles to the Regimental +Adjutant, without the stables; but I can always avert that from myself +free of charge. But, as you desire, therefore I, being myself of an +officer's rank, can come to an agreement with you in everything +personally, as an inhabitant of this district, not according to our +customs, but can maintain the conditions in every way....' + +'Speaks clearly!' muttered the old man. + +The cornet continued in the same strain for a long time. At last, not +without difficulty, Olenin gathered that the cornet wished to let his +rooms to him, Olenin, for six rubles a month. The latter gladly agreed +to this, and offered his visitor a glass of tea. The cornet declined it. + +'According to our silly custom we consider it a sort of sin to drink +out of a "worldly" tumbler,' he said. 'Though, of course, with my +education I may understand, but my wife from her human weakness...' + +'Well then, will you have some tea?' + +'If you will permit me, I will bring my own particular glass,' answered +the cornet, and stepped out into the porch. + +'Bring me my glass!' he cried. + +In a few minutes the door opened and a young sunburnt arm in a print +sleeve thrust itself in, holding a tumbler in the hand. The cornet went +up, took it, and whispered something to his daughter. Olenin poured tea +for the cornet into the latter's own 'particular' glass, and for +Eroshka into a 'worldly' glass. + +'However, I do not desire to detain you,' said the cornet, scalding his +lips and emptying his tumbler. 'I too have a great liking for fishing, +and I am here, so to say, only on leave of absence for recreation from +my duties. I too have the desire to tempt fortune and see whether some +Gifts of the Terek may not fall to my share. I hope you too will come +and see us and have a drink of our wine, according to the custom of our +village,' he added. + +The cornet bowed, shook hands with Olenin, and went out. While Olenin +was getting ready, he heard the cornet giving orders to his family in +an authoritative and sensible tone, and a few minutes later he saw him +pass by the window in a tattered coat with his trousers rolled up to +his knees and a fishing net over his shoulder. + +'A rascal!' said Daddy Eroshka, emptying his 'worldly' tumbler. 'And +will you really pay him six rubles? Was such a thing ever heard of? +They would let you the best hut in the village for two rubles. What a +beast! Why, I'd let you have mine for three!' + +'No, I'll remain here,' said Olenin. + +'Six rubles! ... Clearly it's a fool's money. Eh, eh, eh! answered the +old man. 'Let's have some chikhir, Ivan!' + +Having had a snack and a drink of vodka to prepare themselves for the +road, Olenin and the old man went out together before eight o'clock. + +At the gate they came up against a wagon to which a pair of oxen were +harnessed. With a white kerchief tied round her head down to her eyes, +a coat over her smock, and wearing high boots, Maryanka with a long +switch in her hand was dragging the oxen by a cord tied to their horns. + +'Mammy,' said the old man, pretending that he was going to seize her. + +Maryanka flourished her switch at him and glanced merrily at them both +with her beautiful eyes. + +Olenin felt still more light-hearted. + +'Now then, come on, come on,' he said, throwing his gun on his shoulder +and conscious of the girl's eyes upon him. + +'Gee up!' sounded Maryanka's voice behind them, followed by the creak +of the moving wagon. + +As long as their road lay through the pastures at the back of the +village Eroshka went on talking. He could not forget the cornet and +kept on abusing him. + +'Why are you so angry with him?' asked Olenin. + +'He's stingy. I don't like it,' answered the old man. 'He'll leave it +all behind when he dies! Then who's he saving up for? He's built two +houses, and he's got a second garden from his brother by a law-suit. +And in the matter of papers what a dog he is! They come to him from +other villages to fill up documents. As he writes it out, exactly so it +happens. He gets it quite exact. But who is he saving for? He's only +got one boy and the girl; when she's married who'll be left?' + +'Well then, he's saving up for her dowry,' said Olenin. + +'What dowry? The girl is sought after, she's a fine girl. But he's such +a devil that he must yet marry her to a rich fellow. He wants to get a +big price for her. There's Luke, a Cossack, a neighbour and a nephew of +mine, a fine lad. It's he who killed the Chechen--he has been wooing +her for a long time, but he hasn't let him have her. He's given one +excuse, and another, and a third. "The girl's too young," he says. But +I know what he is thinking. He wants to keep them bowing to him. He's +been acting shamefully about that girl. Still, they will get her for +Lukashka, because he is the best Cossack in the village, a brave, who +has killed an abrek and will be rewarded with a cross.' + +'But how about this? When I was walking up and down the yard last +night, I saw my landlord's daughter and some Cossack kissing,' said +Olenin. + +'You're pretending!' cried the old man, stopping. + +'On my word,' said Olenin. + +'Women are the devil,' said Eroshka pondering. 'But what Cossack was +it?' + +'I couldn't see.' + +'Well, what sort of a cap had he, a white one?' + +'Yes.' + +'And a red coat? About your height?' + +'No, a bit taller.' + +'It's he!' and Eroshka burst out laughing. 'It's himself, it's Mark. He +is Luke, but I call him Mark for a joke. His very self! I love him. I +was just such a one myself. What's the good of minding them? My +sweetheart used to sleep with her mother and her sister-in-law, but I +managed to get in. She used to sleep upstairs; that witch her mother +was a regular demon; it's awful how she hated me. Well, I used to come +with a chum, Girchik his name was. We'd come under her window and I'd +climb on his shoulders, push up the window and begin groping about. She +used to sleep just there on a bench. Once I woke her up and she nearly +called out. She hadn't recognized me. "Who is there?" she said, and I +could not answer. Her mother was even beginning to stir, but I took off +my cap and shoved it over her mouth; and she at once knew it by a seam +in it, and ran out to me. I used not to want anything then. She'd bring +along clotted cream and grapes and everything,' added Eroshka (who +always explained things practically), 'and she wasn't the only one. It +was a life!' + +'And what now?' + +'Now we'll follow the dog, get a pheasant to settle on a tree, and then +you may fire.' + +'Would you have made up to Maryanka?' + +'Attend to the dogs. I'll tell you tonight,' said the old man, pointing +to his favourite dog, Lyam. + +After a pause they continued talking, while they went about a hundred +paces. Then the old man stopped again and pointed to a twig that lay +across the path. + +'What do you think of that?' he said. 'You think it's nothing? It's bad +that this stick is lying so.' + +'Why is it bad?' + +He smiled. + +'Ah, you don't know anything. Just listen to me. When a stick lies like +that don't you step across it, but go round it or throw it off the path +this way, and say "Father and Son and Holy Ghost," and then go on with +God's blessing. Nothing will happen to you. That's what the old men +used to teach me.' + +'Come, what rubbish!' said Olenin. 'You'd better tell me more about +Maryanka. Does she carry on with Lukashka?' + +'Hush ... be quiet now!' the old man again interrupted in a whisper: +'just listen, we'll go round through the forest.' + +And the old man, stepping quietly in his soft shoes, led the way by a +narrow path leading into the dense, wild, overgrown forest. Now and +again with a frown he turned to look at Olenin, who rustled and +clattered with his heavy boots and, carrying his gun carelessly, +several times caught the twigs of trees that grew across the path. + +'Don't make a noise. Step softly, soldier!' the old man whispered +angrily. + +There was a feeling in the air that the sun had risen. The mist was +dissolving but it still enveloped the tops of the trees. The forest +looked terribly high. At every step the aspect changed: what had +appeared like a tree proved to be a bush, and a reed looked like a tree. + + + + +Chapter XIX + + +The mist had partly lifted, showing the wet reed thatches, and was now +turning into dew that moistened the road and the grass beside the +fence. Smoke rose everywhere in clouds from the chimneys. The people +were going out of the village, some to their work, some to the river, +and some to the cordon. The hunters walked together along the damp, +grass-grown path. The dogs, wagging their tails and looking at their +masters, ran on both sides of them. Myriads of gnats hovered in the air +and pursued the hunters, covering their backs, eyes, and hands. The air +was fragrant with the grass and with the dampness of the forest. Olenin +continually looked round at the ox-cart in which Maryanka sat urging on +the oxen with a long switch. + +It was calm. The sounds from the village, audible at first, now no +longer reached the sportsmen. Only the brambles cracked as the dogs ran +under them, and now and then birds called to one another. Olenin knew +that danger lurked in the forest, that abreks always hid in such +places. But he knew too that in the forest, for a man on foot, a gun is +a great protection. Not that he was afraid, but he felt that another in +his place might be; and looking into the damp misty forest and +listening to the rare and faint sounds with strained attention, he +changed his hold on his gun and experienced a pleasant feeling that was +new to him. Daddy Eroshka went in front, stopping and carefully +scanning every puddle where an animal had left a double track, and +pointing it out to Olenin. He hardly spoke at all and only occasionally +made remarks in a whisper. The track they were following had once been +made by wagons, but the grass had long overgrown it. The elm and +plane-tree forest on both sides of them was so dense and overgrown with +creepers that it was impossible to see anything through it. Nearly +every tree was enveloped from top to bottom with wild grape vines, and +dark bramble bushes covered the ground thickly. Every little glade was +overgrown with blackberry bushes and grey feathery reeds. In places, +large hoof-prints and small funnel-shaped pheasant-trails led from the +path into the thicket. The vigour of the growth of this forest, +untrampled by cattle, struck Olenin at every turn, for he had never +seen anything like it. This forest, the danger, the old man and his +mysterious whispering, Maryanka with her virile upright bearing, and +the mountains--all this seemed to him like a dream. + +'A pheasant has settled,' whispered the old man, looking round and +pulling his cap over his face--'Cover your mug! A pheasant!' he waved +his arm angrily at Olenin and pushed forward almost on all fours. 'He +don't like a man's mug.' + +Olenin was still behind him when the old man stopped and began +examining a tree. A cock-pheasant on the tree clucked at the dog that +was barking at it, and Olenin saw the pheasant; but at that moment a +report, as of a cannon, came from Eroshka's enormous gun, the bird +fluttered up and, losing some feathers, fell to the ground. Coming up +to the old man Olenin disturbed another, and raising his gun he aimed +and fired. The pheasant flew swiftly up and then, catching at the +branches as he fell, dropped like a stone to the ground. + +'Good man!' the old man (who could not hit a flying bird) shouted, +laughing. + +Having picked up the pheasants they went on. Olenin, excited by the +exercise and the praise, kept addressing remarks to the old man. + +'Stop! Come this way,' the old man interrupted. 'I noticed the track of +deer here yesterday.' + +After they had turned into the thicket and gone some three hundred +paces they scrambled through into a glade overgrown with reeds and +partly under water. Olenin failed to keep up with the old huntsman and +presently Daddy Eroshka, some twenty paces in front, stooped down, +nodding and beckoning with his arm. On coming up with him Olenin saw a +man's footprint to which the old man was pointing. + +'D'you see?' + +'Yes, well?' said Olenin, trying to speak as calmly as he could. 'A +man's footstep!' + +Involuntarily a thought of Cooper's Pathfinder and of abreks flashed +through Olenin's mind, but noticing the mysterious manner with which +the old man moved on, he hesitated to question him and remained in +doubt whether this mysteriousness was caused by fear of danger or by +the sport. + +'No, it's my own footprint,' the old man said quietly, and pointed to +some grass under which the track of an animal was just perceptible. + +The old man went on; and Olenin kept up with him. + +Descending to lower ground some twenty paces farther on they came upon +a spreading pear-tree, under which, on the black earth, lay the fresh +dung of some animal. + +The spot, all covered over with wild vines, was like a cosy arbour, +dark and cool. + +'He's been here this morning,' said the old man with a sigh; 'the lair +is still damp, quite fresh.' + +Suddenly they heard a terrible crash in the forest some ten paces from +where they stood. They both started and seized their guns, but they +could see nothing and only heard the branches breaking. The rhythmical +rapid thud of galloping was heard for a moment and then changed into a +hollow rumble which resounded farther and farther off, re-echoing in +wider and wider circles through the forest. Olenin felt as though +something had snapped in his heart. He peered carefully but vainly into +the green thicket and then turned to the old man. Daddy Eroshka with +his gun pressed to his breast stood motionless; his cap was thrust +backwards, his eyes gleamed with an unwonted glow, and his open mouth, +with its worn yellow teeth, seemed to have stiffened in that position. + +'A homed stag!' he muttered, and throwing down his gun in despair he +began pulling at his grey beard, 'Here it stood. We should have come +round by the path.... Fool! fool!' and he gave his beard an angry tug. +Fool! Pig!' he repeated, pulling painfully at his own beard. Through +the forest something seemed to fly away in the mist, and ever farther +and farther off was heard the sound of the flight of the stag. + +It was already dusk when, hungry, tired, but full of vigour, Olenin +returned with the old man. Dinner was ready. He ate and drank with the +old man till he felt warm and merry. Olenin then went out into the +porch. Again, to the west, the mountains rose before his eyes. Again +the old man told his endless stories of hunting, of abreks, of +sweethearts, and of all that free and reckless life. Again the fair +Maryanka went in and out and across the yard, her beautiful powerful +form outlined by her smock. + + + + +Chapter XX + + +The next day Olenin went alone to the spot where he and the old man +startled the stag. Instead of passing round through the gate he climbed +over the prickly hedge, as everybody else did, and before he had had +time to pull out the thorns that had caught in his coat, his dog, which +had run on in front, started two pheasants. He had hardly stepped among +the briers when the pheasants began to rise at every step (the old man +had not shown him that place the day before as he meant to keep it for +shooting from behind the screen). Olenin fired twelve times and killed +five pheasants, but clambering after them through the briers he got so +fatigued that he was drenched with perspiration. He called off his dog, +uncocked his gun, put in a bullet above the small shot, and brushing +away the mosquitoes with the wide sleeve of his Circassian coat he went +slowly to the spot where they had been the day before. It was however +impossible to keep back the dog, who found trails on the very path, and +Olenin killed two more pheasants, so that after being detained by this +it was getting towards noon before he began to find the place he was +looking for. + +The day was perfectly clear, calm, and hot. The morning moisture had +dried up even in the forest, and myriads of mosquitoes literally +covered his face, his back, and his arms. His dog had turned from black +to grey, its back being covered with mosquitoes, and so had Olenin's +coat through which the insects thrust their stings. Olenin was ready to +run away from them and it seemed to him that it was impossible to live +in this country in the summer. He was about to go home, but remembering +that other people managed to endure such pain he resolved to bear it +and gave himself up to be devoured. And strange to say, by noontime the +feeling became actually pleasant. He even felt that without this +mosquito-filled atmosphere around him, and that mosquito-paste mingled +with perspiration which his hand smeared over his face, and that +unceasing irritation all over his body, the forest would lose for him +some of its character and charm. These myriads of insects were so well +suited to that monstrously lavish wild vegetation, these multitudes of +birds and beasts which filled the forest, this dark foliage, this hot +scented air, these runlets filled with turbid water which everywhere +soaked through from the Terek and gurgled here and there under the +overhanging leaves, that the very thing which had at first seemed to +him dreadful and intolerable now seemed pleasant. After going round the +place where yesterday they had found the animal and not finding +anything, he felt inclined to rest. The sun stood right above the +forest and poured its perpendicular rays down on his back and head +whenever he came out into a glade or onto the road. The seven heavy +pheasants dragged painfully at his waist. Having found the traces of +yesterday's stag he crept under a bush into the thicket just where the +stag had lain, and lay down in its lair. He examined the dark foliage +around him, the place marked by the stag's perspiration and yesterday's +dung, the imprint of the stag's knees, the bit of black earth it had +kicked up, and his own footprints of the day before. He felt cool and +comfortable and did not think of or wish for anything. And suddenly he +was overcome by such a strange feeling of causeless joy and of love for +everything, that from an old habit of his childhood he began crossing +himself and thanking someone. Suddenly, with extraordinary clearness, +he thought: 'Here am I, Dmitri Olenin, a being quite distinct from +every other being, now lying all alone Heaven only knows where--where a +stag used to live--an old stag, a beautiful stag who perhaps had never +seen a man, and in a place where no human being has ever sat or thought +these thoughts. Here I sit, and around me stand old and young trees, +one of them festooned with wild grape vines, and pheasants are +fluttering, driving one another about and perhaps scenting their +murdered brothers.' He felt his pheasants, examined them, and wiped the +warm blood off his hand onto his coat. 'Perhaps the jackals scent them +and with dissatisfied faces go off in another direction: above me, +flying in among the leaves which to them seem enormous islands, +mosquitoes hang in the air and buzz: one, two, three, four, a hundred, +a thousand, a million mosquitoes, and all of them buzz something or +other and each one of them is separate from all else and is just such a +separate Dmitri Olenin as I am myself.' He vividly imagined what the +mosquitoes buzzed: 'This way, this way, lads! Here's some one we can +eat!' They buzzed and stuck to him. And it was clear to him that he was +not a Russian nobleman, a member of Moscow society, the friend and +relation of so-and-so and so-and-so, but just such a mosquito, or +pheasant, or deer, as those that were now living all around him. 'Just +as they, just as Daddy Eroshka, I shall live awhile and die, and as he +says truly: + +"grass will grow and nothing more". + +'But what though the grass does grow?' he continued thinking. 'Still I +must live and be happy, because happiness is all I desire. Never mind +what I am--an animal like all the rest, above whom the grass will grow +and nothing more; or a frame in which a bit of the one God has been +set,--still I must live in the very best way. How then must I live to +be happy, and why was I not happy before?' And he began to recall his +former life and he felt disgusted with himself. He appeared to himself +to have been terribly exacting and selfish, though he now saw that all +the while he really needed nothing for himself. And he looked round at +the foliage with the light shining through it, at the setting sun and +the clear sky, and he felt just as happy as before. 'Why am I happy, +and what used I to live for?' thought he. 'How much I exacted for +myself; how I schemed and did not manage to gain anything but shame and +sorrow! and, there now, I require nothing to be happy;' and suddenly a +new light seemed to reveal itself to him. 'Happiness is this!' he said +to himself. 'Happiness lies in living for others. That is evident. The +desire for happiness is innate in every man; therefore it is +legitimate. When trying to satisfy it selfishly--that is, by seeking +for oneself riches, fame, comforts, or love--it may happen that +circumstances arise which make it impossible to satisfy these desires. +It follows that it is these desires that are illegitimate, but not the +need for happiness. But what desires can always be satisfied despite +external circumstances? What are they? Love, self-sacrifice.' He was so +glad and excited when he had discovered this, as it seemed to him, new +truth, that he jumped up and began impatiently seeking some one to +sacrifice himself for, to do good to and to love. 'Since one wants +nothing for oneself,' he kept thinking, 'why not live for others?' He +took up his gun with the intention of returning home quickly to think +this out and to find an opportunity of doing good. He made his way out +of the thicket. When he had come out into the glade he looked around +him; the sun was no longer visible above the tree-tops. It had grown +cooler and the place seemed to him quite strange and not like the +country round the village. Everything seemed changed--the weather and +the character of the forest; the sky was wrapped in clouds, the wind +was rustling in the tree-tops, and all around nothing was visible but +reeds and dying broken-down trees. He called to his dog who had run +away to follow some animal, and his voice came back as in a desert. And +suddenly he was seized with a terrible sense of weirdness. He grew +frightened. He remembered the abreks and the murders he had been told +about, and he expected every moment that an abrek would spring from +behind every bush and he would have to defend his life and die, or be a +coward. He thought of God and of the future life as for long he had not +thought about them. And all around was that same gloomy stern wild +nature. 'And is it worth while living for oneself,' thought he, 'when +at any moment you may die, and die without having done any good, and so +that no one will know of it?' He went in the direction where he fancied +the village lay. Of his shooting he had no further thought; but he felt +tired to death and peered round at every bush and tree with particular +attention and almost with terror, expecting every moment to be called +to account for his life. After having wandered about for a considerable +time he came upon a ditch down which was flowing cold sandy water from +the Terek, and, not to go astray any longer, he decided to follow it. +He went on without knowing where the ditch would lead him. Suddenly the +reeds behind him crackled. He shuddered and seized his gun, and then +felt ashamed of himself: the over-excited dog, panting hard, had thrown +itself into the cold water of the ditch and was lapping it! + +He too had a drink, and then followed the dog in the direction it +wished to go, thinking it would lead him to the village. But despite +the dog's company everything around him seemed still more dreary. The +forest grew darker and the wind grew stronger and stronger in the tops +of the broken old trees. Some large birds circled screeching round +their nests in those trees. The vegetation grew poorer and he came +oftener and oftener upon rustling reeds and bare sandy spaces covered +with animal footprints. To the howling of the wind was added another +kind of cheerless monotonous roar. Altogether his spirits became +gloomy. Putting his hand behind him he felt his pheasants, and found +one missing. It had broken off and was lost, and only the bleeding head +and beak remained sticking in his belt. He felt more frightened than he +had ever done before. He began to pray to God, and feared above all +that he might die without having done anything good or kind; and he so +wanted to live, and to live so as to perform a feat of self-sacrifice. + + + + +Chapter XXI + + +Suddenly it was as though the sun had shone into his soul. He heard +Russian being spoken, and also heard the rapid smooth flow of the +Terek, and a few steps farther in front of him saw the brown moving +surface of the river, with the dim-coloured wet sand of its banks and +shallows, the distant steppe, the cordon watch-tower outlined above the +water, a saddled and hobbled horse among the brambles, and then the +mountains opening out before him. The red sun appeared for an instant +from under a cloud and its last rays glittered brightly along the river +over the reeds, on the watch-tower, and on a group of Cossacks, among +whom Lukashka's vigorous figure attracted Olenin's involuntary +attention. + +Olenin felt that he was again, without any apparent cause, perfectly +happy. He had come upon the Nizhni-Prototsk post on the Terek, opposite +a pro-Russian Tartar village on the other side of the river. He +accosted the Cossacks, but not finding as yet any excuse for doing +anyone a kindness, he entered the hut; nor in the hut did he find any +such opportunity. The Cossacks received him coldly. On entering the mud +hut he lit a cigarette. The Cossacks paid little attention to him, +first because he was smoking a cigarette, and secondly because they had +something else to divert them that evening. Some hostile Chechens, +relatives of the abrek who had been killed, had come from the hills +with a scout to ransom the body; and the Cossacks were waiting for +their Commanding Officer's arrival from the village. The dead man's +brother, tall and well shaped with a short cropped beard which was dyed +red, despite his very tattered coat and cap was calm and majestic as a +king. His face was very like that of the dead abrek. He did not deign +to look at anyone, and never once glanced at the dead body, but sitting +on his heels in the shade he spat as he smoked his short pipe, and +occasionally uttered some few guttural sounds of command, which were +respectfully listened to by his companion. He was evidently a brave who +had met Russians more than once before in quite other circumstances, +and nothing about them could astonish or even interest him. Olenin was +about to approach the dead body and had begun to look at it when the +brother, looking up at him from under his brows with calm contempt, +said something sharply and angrily. The scout hastened to cover the +dead man's face with his coat. Olenin was struck by the dignified and +stem expression of the brave's face. He began to speak to him, asking +from what village he came, but the Chechen, scarcely giving him a +glance, spat contemptuously and turned away. Olenin was so surprised at +the Chechen not being interested in him that he could only put it down +to the man's stupidity or ignorance of Russian; so he turned to the +scout, who also acted as interpreter. The scout was as ragged as the +other, but instead of being red-haired he was black-haired, restless, +with extremely white gleaming teeth and sparkling black eyes. The scout +willingly entered into conversation and asked for a cigarette. + +'There were five brothers,' began the scout in his broken Russian. +'This is the third brother the Russians have killed, only two are left. +He is a brave, a great brave!' he said, pointing to the Chechen. 'When +they killed Ahmet Khan (the dead brave) this one was sitting on the +opposite bank among the reeds. He saw it all. Saw him laid in the skiff +and brought to the bank. He sat there till the night and wished to kill +the old man, but the others would not let him.' + +Lukashka went up to the speaker, and sat down. 'Of what village?' asked +he. + +'From there in the hills,' replied the scout, pointing to the misty +bluish gorge beyond the Terek. 'Do you know Suuk-su? It is about eight +miles beyond that.' + +'Do you know Girey Khan in Suuk-su?' asked Lukashka, evidently proud of +the acquaintance. 'He is my kunak.' + +'He is my neighbour,' answered the scout. + +'He's a trump!' and Lukashka, evidently much interested, began talking +to the scout in Tartar. + +Presently a Cossack captain, with the head of the village, arrived on +horseback with a suite of two Cossacks. The captain--one of the new +type of Cossack officers--wished the Cossacks 'Good health,' but no one +shouted in reply, 'Hail! Good health to your honour,' as is customary +in the Russian Army, and only a few replied with a bow. Some, and among +them Lukashka, rose and stood erect. The corporal replied that all was +well at the outposts. All this seemed ridiculous: it was as if these +Cossacks were playing at being soldiers. But these formalities soon +gave place to ordinary ways of behaviour, and the captain, who was a +smart Cossack just like the others, began speaking fluently in Tartar +to the interpreter. They filled in some document, gave it to the scout, +and received from him some money. Then they approached the body. + +'Which of you is Luke Gavrilov?' asked the captain. + +Lukishka took off his cap and came forward. + +'I have reported your exploit to the Commander. I don't know what will +come of it. I have recommended you for a cross; you're too young to be +made a sergeant. Can you read?' + +'I can't.' + +'But what a fine fellow to look at!' said the captain, again playing +the commander. 'Put on your cap. Which of the Gavrilovs does he come +of? ... the Broad, eh?' + +'His nephew,' replied the corporal. + +'I know, I know. Well, lend a hand, help them,' he said, turning to the +Cossacks. + +Lukashka's face shone with joy and seemed handsomer than usual. He +moved away from the corporal, and having put on his cap sat down beside +Olenin. + +When the body had been carried to the skiff the brother Chechen +descended to the bank. The Cossacks involuntarily stepped aside to let +him pass. He jumped into the boat and pushed off from the bank with his +powerful leg, and now, as Olenin noticed, for the first time threw a +rapid glance at all the Cossacks and then abruptly asked his companion +a question. The latter answered something and pointed to Lukashka. The +Chechen looked at him and, turning slowly away, gazed at the opposite +bank. That look expressed not hatred but cold contempt. He again made +some remark. + +'What is he saying?' Olenin asked of the fidgety scout. + +'Yours kill ours, ours slay yours. It's always the same,' replied the +scout, evidently inventing, and he smiled, showing his white teeth, as +he jumped into the skiff. + +The dead man's brother sat motionless, gazing at the opposite bank. He +was so full of hatred and contempt that there was nothing on this side +of the river that moved his curiosity. The scout, standing up at one +end of the skiff and dipping his paddle now on one side now on the +other, steered skilfully while talking incessantly. The skiff became +smaller and smaller as it moved obliquely across the stream, the voices +became scarcely audible, and at last, still within sight, they landed +on the opposite bank where their horses stood waiting. There they +lifted out the corpse and (though the horse shied) laid it across one +of the saddles, mounted, and rode at a foot-pace along the road past a +Tartar village from which a crowd came out to look at them. The +Cossacks on the Russian side of the river were highly satisfied and +jovial. Laughter and jokes were heard on all sides. The captain and the +head of the village entered the mud hut to regale themselves. Lukashka, +vainly striving to impart a sedate expression to his merry face, sat +down with his elbows on his knees beside Olenin and whittled away at a +stick. + +'Why do you smoke?' he said with assumed curiosity. 'Is it good?' + +He evidently spoke because he noticed Olenin felt ill at ease and +isolated among the Cossacks. + +'It's just a habit,' answered Olenin. 'Why?' + +'H'm, if one of us were to smoke there would be a row! Look there now, +the mountains are not far off,' continued Lukashka, 'yet you can't get +there! How will you get back alone? It's getting dark. I'll take you, +if you like. You ask the corporal to give me leave.' + +'What a fine fellow!' thought Olenin, looking at the Cossack's bright +face. He remembered Maryanka and the kiss he had heard by the gate, and +he was sorry for Lukashka and his want of culture. 'What confusion it +is,' he thought. 'A man kills another and is happy and satisfied with +himself as if he had done something excellent. Can it be that nothing +tells him that it is not a reason for any rejoicing, and that happiness +lies not in killing, but in sacrificing oneself?' + +'Well, you had better not meet him again now, mate!' said one of the +Cossacks who had seen the skiff off, addressing Lukashka. 'Did you hear +him asking about you?' + +Lukashka raised his head. + +'My godson?' said Lukashka, meaning by that word the dead Chechen. + +'Your godson won't rise, but the red one is the godson's brother!' + +'Let him thank God that he got off whole himself,' replied Lukashka. + +'What are you glad about?' asked Olenin. 'Supposing your brother had +been killed; would you be glad?' + +The Cossack looked at Olenin with laughing eyes. He seemed to have +understood all that Olenin wished to say to him, but to be above such +considerations. + +'Well, that happens too! Don't our fellows get killed sometimes?' + + + + +Chapter XXII + + +The Captain and the head of the village rode away, and Olenin, to +please Lukashka as well as to avoid going back alone through the dark +forest, asked the corporal to give Lukashka leave, and the corporal did +so. Olenin thought that Lukashka wanted to see Maryanka and he was also +glad of the companionship of such a pleasant-looking and sociable +Cossack. Lukashka and Maryanka he involuntarily united in his mind, and +he found pleasure in thinking about them. 'He loves Maryanka,' thought +Olenin, 'and I could love her,' and a new and powerful emotion of +tenderness overcame him as they walked homewards together through the +dark forest. Lukashka too felt happy; something akin to love made +itself felt between these two very different young men. Every time they +glanced at one another they wanted to laugh. + +'By which gate do you enter?' asked Olenin. + +'By the middle one. But I'll see you as far as the marsh. After that +you have nothing to fear.' + +Olenin laughed. + +'Do you think I am afraid? Go back, and thank you. I can get on alone.' + +'It's all right! What have I to do? And how can you help being afraid? +Even we are afraid,' said Lukashka to set Olenin's self-esteem at rest, +and he laughed too. + +'Then come in with me. We'll have a talk and a drink and in the morning +you can go back.' + +'Couldn't I find a place to spend the night?' laughed Lukashka. 'But +the corporal asked me to go back.' + +'I heard you singing last night, and also saw you.' + +'Every one...' and Luke swayed his head. + +'Is it true you are getting married?' asked Olenin. + +'Mother wants me to marry. But I have not got a horse yet.' + +'Aren't you in the regular service?' + +'Oh dear no! I've only just joined, and have not got a horse yet, and +don't know how to get one. That's why the marriage does not come off.' + +'And what would a horse cost?' + +'We were bargaining for one beyond the river the other day and they +would not take sixty rubles for it, though it is a Nogay horse.' + +'Will you come and be my drabant?' (A drabant was a kind of orderly +attached to an officer when campaigning.) 'I'll get it arranged and +will give you a horse,' said Olenin suddenly. 'Really now, I have two +and I don't want both.' + +'How--don't want it?' Lukashka said, laughing. 'Why should you make me +a present? We'll get on by ourselves by God's help.' + +'No, really! Or don't you want to be a drabant?' said Olenin, glad that +it had entered his head to give a horse to Lukashka, though, without +knowing why, he felt uncomfortable and confused and did not know what +to say when he tried to speak. + +Lukashka was the first to break the silence. + +'Have you a house of your own in Russia?' he asked. + +Olenin could not refrain from replying that he had not only one, but +several houses. + +'A good house? Bigger than ours?' asked Lukashka good-naturedly. + +'Much bigger; ten times as big and three storeys high,' replied Olenin. + +'And have you horses such as ours?' + +'I have a hundred horses, worth three or four hundred rubles each, but +they are not like yours. They are trotters, you know.... But still, I +like the horses here best.' + +'Well, and did you come here of your own free will, or were you sent?' +said Lukashka, laughing at him. 'Look! that's where you lost your way,' +he added, 'you should have turned to the right.' + +'I came by my own wish,' replied Olenin. 'I wanted to see your parts +and to join some expeditions.' + +'I would go on an expedition any day,' said Lukashka. 'D'you hear the +jackals howling?' he added, listening. + +'I say, don't you feel any horror at having killed a man?' asked Olenin. + +'What's there to be frightened about? But I should like to join an +expedition,' Lukashka repeated. 'How I want to! How I want to!' + +'Perhaps we may be going together. Our company is going before the +holidays, and your "hundred" too.' + +'And what did you want to come here for? You've a house and horses and +serfs. In your place I'd do nothing but make merry! And what is your +rank?' + +'I am a cadet, but have been recommended for a commission.' + +'Well, if you're not bragging about your home, if I were you I'd never +have left it! Yes, I'd never have gone away anywhere. Do you find it +pleasant living among us?' + +'Yes, very pleasant,' answered Olenin. + +It had grown quite dark before, talking in this way, they approached +the village. They were still surrounded by the deep gloom of the +forest. The wind howled through the tree-tops. The jackals suddenly +seemed to be crying close beside them, howling, chuckling, and sobbing; +but ahead of them in the village the sounds of women's voices and the +barking of dogs could already be heard; the outlines of the huts were +clearly to be seen; lights gleamed and the air was filled with the +peculiar smell of kisyak smoke. Olenin felt keenly, that night +especially, that here in this village was his home, his family, all his +happiness, and that he never had and never would live so happily +anywhere as he did in this Cossack village. He was so fond of everybody +and especially of Lukashka that night. On reaching home, to Lukashka's +great surprise, Olenin with his own hands led out of the shed a horse +he had bought in Groznoe--it was not the one he usually rode but +another--not a bad horse though no longer young, and gave it to +Lukashka. + +'Why should you give me a present?' said Lukashka, 'I have not yet done +anything for you.' + +'Really it is nothing,' answered Olenin. 'Take it, and you will give me +a present, and we'll go on an expedition against the enemy together.' + +Lukashka became confused. + +'But what d'you mean by it? As if a horse were of little value,' he +said without looking at the horse. + +'Take it, take it! If you don't you will offend me. Vanyusha! Take the +grey horse to his house.' + +Lukashka took hold of the halter. + +'Well then, thank you! This is something unexpected, undreamt of.' + +Olenin was as happy as a boy of twelve. + +'Tie it up here. It's a good horse. I bought it in Groznoe; it gallops +splendidly! Vanyusha, bring us some chikhir. Come into the hut.' + +The wine was brought. Lukashka sat down and took the wine-bowl. + +'God willing I'll find a way to repay you,' he said, finishing his +wine. 'How are you called?' + +'Dmitri Andreich.' + +'Well, 'Mitry Andreich, God bless you. We will be kunaks. Now you must +come to see us. Though we are not rich people still we can treat a +kunak, and I will tell mother in case you need anything--clotted cream +or grapes--and if you come to the cordon I'm your servant to go hunting +or to go across the river, anywhere you like! There now, only the other +day, what a boar I killed, and I divided it among the Cossacks, but if +I had only known, I'd have given it to you.' 'That's all right, thank +you! But don't harness the horse, it has never been in harness.' + +'Why harness the horse? And there is something else I'll tell you if +you like,' said Lukashka, bending his head. 'I have a kunak, Girey +Khan. He asked me to lie in ambush by the road where they come down +from the mountains. Shall we go together? I'll not betray you. I'll be +your murid.' + +'Yes, we'll go; we'll go some day.' + +Lukashka seemed quite to have quieted down and to have understood +Olenin's attitude towards him. His calmness and the ease of his +behaviour surprised Olenin, and he did not even quite like it. They +talked long, and it was late when Lukashka, not tipsy (he never was +tipsy) but having drunk a good deal, left Olenin after shaking hands. + +Olenin looked out of the window to see what he would do. Lukashka went +out, hanging his head. Then, having led the horse out of the gate, he +suddenly shook his head, threw the reins of the halter over its head, +sprang onto its back like a cat, gave a wild shout, and galloped down +the street. Olenin expected that Lukishka would go to share his joy +with Maryanka, but though he did not do so Olenin still felt his soul +more at ease than ever before in his life. He was as delighted as a +boy, and could not refrain from telling Vanyusha not only that he had +given Lukashka the horse, but also why he had done it, as well as his +new theory of happiness. Vanyusha did not approve of his theory, and +announced that 'l'argent il n'y a pas!' and that therefore it was all +nonsense. + +Lukashka rode home, jumped off the horse, and handed it over to his +mother, telling her to let it out with the communal Cossack herd. He +himself had to return to the cordon that same night. His deaf sister +undertook to take the horse, and explained by signs that when she saw +the man who had given the horse, she would bow down at his feet. The +old woman only shook her head at her son's story, and decided in her +own mind that he had stolen it. She therefore told the deaf girl to +take it to the herd before daybreak. + +Lukashka went back alone to the cordon pondering over Olenin's action. +Though he did not consider the horse a good one, yet it was worth at +least forty rubles and Lukashka was very glad to have the present. But +why it had been given him he could not at all understand, and therefore +he did not experience the least feeling of gratitude. On the contrary, +vague suspicions that the cadet had some evil intentions filled his +mind. What those intentions were he could not decide, but neither could +he admit the idea that a stranger would give him a horse worth forty +rubles for nothing, just out of kindness; it seemed impossible. Had he +been drunk one might understand it! He might have wished to show off. +But the cadet had been sober, and therefore must have wished to bribe +him to do something wrong. 'Eh, humbug!' thought Lukashka. 'Haven't I +got the horse and we'll see later on. I'm not a fool myself and we +shall see who'll get the better of the other,' he thought, feeling the +necessity of being on his guard, and therefore arousing in himself +unfriendly feelings towards Olenin. He told no one how he had got the +horse. To some he said he had bought it, to others he replied +evasively. However, the truth soon got about in the village, and +Lukashka's mother and Maryanka, as well as Elias Vasilich and other +Cossacks, when they heard of Olenin's unnecessary gift, were perplexed, +and began to be on their guard against the cadet. But despite their +fears his action aroused in them a great respect for his simplicity and +wealth. + +'Have you heard,' said one, 'that the cadet quartered on Elias Vasilich +has thrown a fifty-ruble horse at Lukashka? He's rich! ...' + +'Yes, I heard of it,' replied another profoundly, 'he must have done +him some great service. We shall see what will come of this cadet. Eh! +what luck that Snatcher has!' + +'Those cadets are crafty, awfully crafty,' said a third. 'See if he +don't go setting fire to a building, or doing something!' + + + + +Chapter XXIII + + +Olenin's life went on with monotonous regularity. He had little +intercourse with the commanding officers or with his equals. The +position of a rich cadet in the Caucasus was peculiarly advantageous in +this respect. He was not sent out to work, or for training. As a reward +for going on an expedition he was recommended for a commission, and +meanwhile he was left in peace. The officers regarded him as an +aristocrat and behaved towards him with dignity. Cardplaying and the +officers' carousals accompanied by the soldier-singers, of which he had +had experience when he was with the detachment, did not seem to him +attractive, and he also avoided the society and life of the officers in +the village. The life of officers stationed in a Cossack village has +long had its own definite form. Just as every cadet or officer when in +a fort regularly drinks porter, plays cards, and discusses the rewards +given for taking part in the expeditions, so in the Cossack villages he +regularly drinks chikhir with his hosts, treats the girls to +sweet-meats and honey, dangles after the Cossack women, and falls in +love, and occasionally marries there. Olenin always took his own path +and had an unconscious objection to the beaten tracks. And here, too, +he did not follow the ruts of a Caucasian officer's life. + +It came quite naturally to him to wake up at daybreak. After drinking +tea and admiring from his porch the mountains, the morning, and +Maryanka, he would put on a tattered ox-hide coat, sandals of soaked +raw hide, buckle on a dagger, take a gun, put cigarettes and some lunch +in a little bag, call his dog, and soon after five o'clock would start +for the forest beyond the village. Towards seven in the evening he +would return tired and hungry with five or six pheasants hanging from +his belt (sometimes with some other animal) and with his bag of food +and cigarettes untouched. If the thoughts in his head had lain like the +lunch and cigarettes in the bag, one might have seen that during all +those fourteen hours not a single thought had moved in it. He returned +morally fresh, strong, and perfectly happy, and he could not tell what +he had been thinking about all the time. Were they ideas, memories, or +dreams that had been flitting through his mind? They were frequently +all three. He would rouse himself and ask what he had been thinking +about; and would see himself as a Cossack working in a vineyard with +his Cossack wife, or an abrek in the mountains, or a boar running away +from himself. And all the time he kept peering and watching for a +pheasant, a boar, or a deer. + +In the evening Daddy Eroshka would be sure to be sitting with him. +Vanyusha would bring a jug of chikhir, and they would converse quietly, +drink, and separate to go quite contentedly to bed. The next day he +would again go shooting, again be healthily weary, again they would sit +conversing and drink their fill, and again be happy. Sometimes on a +holiday or day of rest Olenin spent the whole day at home. Then his +chief occupation was watching Maryanka, whose every movement, without +realizing it himself, he followed greedily from his window or his +porch. He regarded Maryanka and loved her (so he thought) just as he +loved the beauty of the mountains and the sky, and he had no thought of +entering into any relations with her. It seemed to him that between him +and her such relations as there were between her and the Cossack +Lukashka could not exist, and still less such as often existed between +rich officers and other Cossack girls. It seemed to him that if he +tried to do as his fellow officers did, he would exchange his complete +enjoyment of contemplation for an abyss of suffering, disillusionment, +and remorse. Besides, he had already achieved a triumph of +self-sacrifice in connexion with her which had given him great +pleasure, and above all he was in a way afraid of Maryanka and would +not for anything have ventured to utter a word of love to her lightly. + +Once during the summer, when Olenin had not gone out shooting but was +sitting at home, quite unexpectedly a Moscow acquaintance, a very young +man whom he had met in society, came in. + +'Ah, mon cher, my dear fellow, how glad I was when I heard that you +were here!' he began in his Moscow French, and he went on intermingling +French words in his remarks. 'They said, "Olenin". What Olenin? and I +was so pleased.... Fancy fate bringing us together here! Well, and how +are you? How? Why?' and Prince Beletski told his whole story: how he +had temporarily entered the regiment, how the Commander-in-Chief had +offered to take him as an adjutant, and how he would take up the post +after this campaign although personally he felt quite indifferent about +it. + +'Living here in this hole one must at least make a career--get a +cross--or a rank--be transferred to the Guards. That is quite +indispensable, not for myself but for the sake of my relations and +friends. The prince received me very well; he is a very decent fellow,' +said Beletski, and went on unceasingly. 'I have been recommended for +the St. Anna Cross for the expedition. Now I shall stay here a bit +until we start on the campaign. It's capital here. What women! Well, +and how are you getting on? I was told by our captain, Startsev you +know, a kind-hearted stupid creature.... Well, he said you were living +like an awful savage, seeing no one! I quite understand you don't want +to be mixed up with the set of officers we have here. I am so glad now +you and I will be able to see something of one another. I have put up +at the Cossack corporal's house. There is such a girl there. Ustenka! I +tell you she's just charming.' + +And more and more French and Russian words came pouring forth from that +world which Olenin thought he had left for ever. The general opinion +about Beletski was that he was a nice, good-natured fellow. Perhaps he +really was; but in spite of his pretty, good-natured face, Olenin +thought him extremely unpleasant. He seemed just to exhale that +filthiness which Olenin had forsworn. What vexed him most was that he +could not--had not the strength--abruptly to repulse this man who came +from that world: as if that old world he used to belong to had an +irresistible claim on him. Olenin felt angry with Beletski and with +himself, yet against his wish he introduced French phrases into his own +conversation, was interested in the Commander-in-Chief and in their +Moscow acquaintances, and because in this Cossack village he and +Beletski both spoke French, he spoke contemptuously of their fellow +officers and of the Cossacks, and was friendly with Beletski, promising +to visit him and inviting him to drop in to see him. Olenin however did +not himself go to see Beletski. Vanyusha for his part approved of +Beletski, remarking that he was a real gentleman. + +Beletski at once adopted the customary life of a rich officer in a +Cossack village. Before Olenin's eyes, in one month he came to be like +an old resident of the village; he made the old men drunk, arranged +evening parties, and himself went to parties arranged by the +girls--bragged of his conquests, and even got so far that, for some +unknown reason, the women and girls began calling him grandad, and the +Cossacks, to whom a man who loved wine and women was clearly +understandable, got used to him and even liked him better than they did +Olenin, who was a puzzle to them. + + + + +Chapter XXIV + + +It was five in the morning. Vanyusha was in the porch heating the +samovar, and using the leg of a long boot instead of bellows. Olenin +had already ridden off to bathe in the Terek. (He had recently invented +a new amusement: to swim his horse in the river.) His landlady was in +her outhouse, and the dense smoke of the kindling fire rose from the +chimney. The girl was milking the buffalo cow in the shed. 'Can't keep +quiet, the damned thing!' came her impatient voice, followed by the +rhythmical sound of milking. + +From the street in front of the house horses' hoofs were heard +clattering briskly, and Olenin, riding bareback on a handsome dark-grey +horse which was still wet and shining, rode up to the gate. Maryanka's +handsome head, tied round with a red kerchief, appeared from the shed +and again disappeared. Olenin was wearing a red silk shirt, a white +Circassian coat girdled with a strap which carried a dagger, and a tall +cap. He sat his well-fed wet horse with a slightly conscious elegance +and, holding his gun at his back, stooped to open the gate. + +His hair was still wet, and his face shone with youth and health. He +thought himself handsome, agile, and like a brave; but he was mistaken. +To any experienced Caucasian he was still only a soldier. + +When he noticed that the girl had put out her head he stooped with +particular smartness, threw open the gate and, tightening the reins, +swished his whip and entered the yard. 'Is tea ready, Vanyusha?' he +cried gaily, not looking at the door of the shed. He felt with pleasure +how his fine horse, pressing down its flanks, pulling at the bridle +and with every muscle quivering and with each foot ready to leap over +the fence, pranced on the hard clay of the yard. <i>'C'est prt</i>,' +answered Vanyusha. Olenin felt as if Maryanka's beautiful head was +still looking out of the shed but he did not turn to look at her. As +he jumped down from his horse he made an awkward movement and caught +his gun against the porch, and turned a frightened look towards the +shed, where there was no one to be seen and whence the sound of +milking could still be heard. + +Soon after he had entered the hut he came out again and sat down with +his pipe and a book on the side of the porch which was not yet exposed +to the rays of the sun. He meant not to go anywhere before dinner that +day, and to write some long-postponed letters; but somehow he felt +disinclined to leave his place in the porch, and he was as reluctant +to go back into the hut as if it had been a prison. The housewife +had heated her oven, and the girl, having driven the cattle, had come +back and was collecting <i>kisyak</i> and heaping it up along the +fence. Olenin went on reading, but did not understand a word of what +was written in the book that lay open before him. He kept lifting his +eyes from it and looking at the powerful young woman who was moving +about. Whether she stepped into the moist morning shadow thrown by +the house, or went out into the middle of the yard lit up by the +joyous young light, so that the whole of her stately figure in its +bright coloured garment gleamed in the sunshine and cast a black +shadow--he always feared to lose any one of her movements. It delighted +him to see how freely and gracefully her figure bent: into what folds +her only garment, a pink smock, draped itself on her bosom and along +her shapely legs; how she drew herself up and her tight-drawn smock +showed the outline of her heaving bosom, how the soles of her narrow +feet in her worn red slippers rested on the ground without altering +their shape; how her strong arms with the sleeves rolled up, exerting +the muscles, used the spade almost as if in anger, and how her deep +dark eyes sometimes glanced at him. Though the delicate brows frowned, +yet her eyes expressed pleasure and a knowledge of her own beauty. + +'I say, Olenin, have you been up long?' said Beletski as he entered the +yard dressed in the coat of a Caucasian officer. + +'Ah, Beletski,' replied Olenin, holding out his hand. 'How is it you +are out so early?' + +'I had to. I was driven out; we are having a ball tonight. Maryanka, of +course you'll come to Ustenka's?' he added, turning to the girl. + +Olenin felt surprised that Beletski could address this woman so easily. +But Maryanka, as though she had not heard him, bent her head, and +throwing the spade across her shoulder went with her firm masculine +tread towards the outhouse. + +'She's shy, the wench is shy,' Beletski called after her. 'Shy of you,' +he added as, smiling gaily, he ran up the steps of the porch. + +'How is it you are having a ball and have been driven out?' + +'It's at Ustenka's, at my landlady's, that the ball is, and you two are +invited. A ball consists of a pie and a gathering of girls.' + +'What should we do there?' + +Beletski smiled knowingly and winked, jerking his head in the direction +of the outhouse into which Maryanka had disappeared. + +Olenin shrugged his shoulders and blushed. + +'Well, really you are a strange fellow!' said he. + +'Come now, don't pretend' + +Olenin frowned, and Beletski noticing this smiled insinuatingly. 'Oh, +come, what do you mean?' he said, 'living in the same house--and such a +fine girl, a splendid girl, a perfect beauty.' + +'Wonderfully beautiful! I never saw such a woman before,' replied +Olenin. + +'Well then?' said Beletski, quite unable to understand the situation. + +'It may be strange,' replied Olenin, 'but why should I not say what is +true? Since I have lived here women don't seem to exist for me. And it +is so good, really! Now what can there be in common between us and +women like these? Eroshka--that's a different matter! He and I have a +passion in common--sport.' + +'There now! In common! And what have I in common with Amalia Ivanovna? +It's the same thing! You may say they're not very clean--that's another +matter... A la guerre, comme a la guerre! ...' + +'But I have never known any Amalia Ivanovas, and have never known how +to behave with women of that sort,' replied Olenin. 'One cannot respect +them, but these I do respect.' + +'Well go on respecting them! Who wants to prevent you?' + +Olenin did not reply. He evidently wanted to complete what he had begun +to say. It was very near his heart. + +'I know I am an exception...' He was visibly confused. 'But my life has +so shaped itself that I not only see no necessity to renounce my rules, +but I could not live here, let alone live as happily as I am doing, +were I to live as you do. Therefore I look for something quite +different from what you look for.' + +Beletski raised his eyebrows incredulously. 'Anyhow, come to me this +evening; Maryanka will be there and I will make you acquainted. Do +come, please! If you feel dull you can go away. Will you come?' + +'I would come, but to speak frankly I am afraid of being' seriously +carried away.' + +'Oh, oh, oh!' shouted Beletski. 'Only come, and I'll see that you +aren't. Will you? On your word?' + +'I would come, but really I don't understand what we shall do; what +part we shall play!' + +'Please, I beg of you. You will come?' + +'Yes, perhaps I'll come,' said Olenin. + +'Really now! Charming women such as one sees nowhere else, and to live +like a monk! What an idea! Why spoil your life and not make use of what +is at hand? Have you heard that our company is ordered to Vozdvizhensk?' + +'Hardly. I was told the 8th Company would be sent there,' said Olenin. + +'No. I have had a letter from the adjutant there. He writes that the +Prince himself will take part in the campaign. I am very glad I shall +see something of him. I'm beginning to get tired of this place.' + +'I hear we shall start on a raid soon.' + +'I have not heard of it; but I have heard that Krinovitsin has received +the Order of St. Anna for a raid. He expected a lieutenancy,' said +Beletski laughing. 'He was let in! He has set off for headquarters.' + +It was growing dusk and Olenin began thinking about the party. The +invitation he had received worried him. He felt inclined to go, but +what might take place there seemed strange, absurd, and even rather +alarming. He knew that neither Cossack men nor older women, nor anyone +besides the girls, were to be there. What was going to happen? How was +he to behave? What would they talk about? What connexion was there +between him and those wild Cossack girls? Beletski had told him of such +curious, cynical, and yet rigid relations. It seemed strange to think +that he would be there in the same hut with Maryanka and perhaps might +have to talk to her. It seemed to him impossible when he remembered her +majestic bearing. But Beletski spoke of it as if it were all perfectly +simple. 'Is it possible that Beletski will treat Maryanka in the same +way? That is interesting,' thought he. 'No, better not go. It's all so +horrid, so vulgar, and above all--it leads to nothing!' But again he +was worried by the question of what would take place; and besides he +felt as if bound by a promise. He went out without having made up his +mind one way or the other, but he walked as far as Beletski's, and went +in there. + +The hut in which Beletski lived was like Olenin's. It was raised nearly +five feet from the ground on wooden piles, and had two rooms. In the +first (which Olenin entered by the steep flight of steps) feather beds, +rugs, blankets, and cushions were tastefully and handsomely arranged, +Cossack fashion, along the main wall. On the side wall hung brass +basins and weapons, while on the floor, under a bench, lay watermelons +and pumpkins. In the second room there was a big brick oven, a table, +and sectarian icons. It was here that Beletski was quartered, with his +camp-bed and his pack and trunks. His weapons hung on the wall with a +little rug behind them, and on the table were his toilet appliances and +some portraits. A silk dressing-gown had been thrown on the bench. +Beletski himself, clean and good-looking, lay on the bed in his +underclothing, reading Les Trois Mousquetaires. + +He jumped up. + +'There, you see how I have arranged things. Fine! Well, it's good that +you have come. They are working furiously. Do you know what the pie is +made of? Dough with a stuffing of pork and grapes. But that's not the +point. You just look at the commotion out there!' + +And really, on looking out of the window they saw an unusual bustle +going on in the hut. Girls ran in and out, now for one thing and now +for another. + +'Will it soon be ready?' cried Beletski. + +'Very soon! Why? Is Grandad hungry?' and from the hut came the sound of +ringing laughter. + +Ustenka, plump, small, rosy, and pretty, with her sleeves turned up, +ran into Beletski's hut to fetch some plates. + +'Get away or I shall smash the plates!' she squeaked, escaping from +Beletski. 'You'd better come and help,' she shouted to Olenin, +laughing. 'And don't forget to get some refreshments for the girls.' +('Refreshments' meaning spicebread and sweets.) + +'And has Maryanka come?' + +'Of course! She brought some dough.' + +'Do you know,' said Beletski, 'if one were to dress Ustenka up and +clean and polish her up a bit, she'd be better than all our beauties. +Have you ever seen that Cossack woman who married a colonel; she was +charming! Borsheva? What dignity! Where do they get it...' + +'I have not seen Borsheva, but I think nothing could be better than the +costume they wear here.' + +'Ah, I'm first-rate at fitting into any kind of life,' said Beletski +with a sigh of pleasure. 'I'll go and see what they are up to.' + +He threw his dressing-gown over his shoulders and ran out, shouting, +'And you look after the "refreshments".' + +Olenin sent Beletski's orderly to buy spice-bread and honey; but it +suddenly seemed to him so disgusting to give money (as if he were +bribing someone) that he gave no definite reply to the orderly's +question: 'How much spice-bread with peppermint, and how much with +honey?' + +'Just as you please.' + +'Shall I spend all the money,' asked the old soldier impressively. 'The +peppermint is dearer. It's sixteen kopeks.' + +'Yes, yes, spend it all,' answered Olenin and sat down by the window, +surprised that his heart was thumping as if he were preparing himself +for something serious and wicked. + +He heard screaming and shrieking in the girls' hut when Beletski went +there, and a few moments later saw how he jumped out and ran down the +steps, accompanied by shrieks, bustle, and laughter. + +'Turned out,' he said. + +A little later Ustenka entered and solemnly invited her visitors to +come in: announcing that all was ready. + +When they came into the room they saw that everything was really ready. +Ustenka was rearranging the cushions along the wall. On the table, +which was covered by a disproportionately small cloth, was a decanter +of chikhir and some dried fish. The room smelt of dough and grapes. +Some half dozen girls in smart tunics, with their heads not covered as +usual with kerchiefs, were huddled together in a corner behind the +oven, whispering, giggling, and spluttering with laughter. + +'I humbly beg you to do honour to my patron saint,' said Ustenka, +inviting her guests to the table. + +Olenin noticed Maryanka among the group of girls, who without exception +were all handsome, and he felt vexed and hurt that he met her in such +vulgar and awkward circumstances. He felt stupid and awkward, and made +up his mind to do what Beletski did. Beletski stepped to the table +somewhat solemnly yet with confidence and ease, drank a glass of wine +to Ustenka's health, and invited the others to do the same. Ustenka +announced that girls don't drink. 'We might with a little honey,' +exclaimed a voice from among the group of girls. The orderly, who had +just returned with the honey and spice-cakes, was called in. He looked +askance (whether with envy or with contempt) at the gentlemen, who in +his opinion were on the spree; and carefully and conscientiously handed +over to them a piece of honeycomb and the cakes wrapped up in a piece +of greyish paper, and began explaining circumstantially all about the +price and the change, but Beletski sent him away. Having mixed honey +with wine in the glasses, and having lavishly scattered the three +pounds of spice-cakes on the table, Beletski dragged the girls from +their corners by force, made them sit down at the table, and began +distributing the cakes among them. Olenin involuntarily noticed how +Maryanka's sunburnt but small hand closed on two round peppermint nuts +and one brown one, and that she did not know what to do with them. The +conversation was halting and constrained, in spite of Ustenka's and +Beletski's free and easy manner and their wish to enliven the company. +Olenin faltered, and tried to think of something to say, feeling that +he was exciting curiosity and perhaps provoking ridicule and infecting +the others with his shyness. He blushed, and it seemed to him that +Maryanka in particular was feeling uncomfortable. 'Most likely they are +expecting us to give them some money,' thought he. 'How are we to do +it? And how can we manage quickest to give it and get away?' + + + + +Chapter XXV + + +'How is it you don't know your own lodger?' said Beletski, addressing +Maryanka. + +'How is one to know him if he never comes to see us?' answered +Maryanka, with a look at Olenin. + +Olenin felt frightened, he did not know of what. He flushed and, hardly +knowing what he was saying, remarked: 'I'm afraid of your mother. She +gave me such a scolding the first time I went in.' + +Maryanka burst out laughing. 'And so you were frightened?' she said, +and glanced at him and turned away. + +It was the first time Olenin had seen the whole of her beautiful face. +Till then he had seen her with her kerchief covering her to the eyes. +It was not for nothing that she was reckoned the beauty of the village. +Ustenka was a pretty girl, small, plump, rosy, with merry brown eyes, +and red lips which were perpetually smiling and chattering. Maryanka on +the contrary was certainly not pretty but beautiful. Her features might +have been considered too masculine and almost harsh had it not been for +her tall stately figure, her powerful chest and shoulders, and +especially the severe yet tender expression of her long dark eyes which +were darkly shadowed beneath their black brows, and for the gentle +expression of her mouth and smile. She rarely smiled, but her smile was +always striking. She seemed to radiate virginal strength and health. +All the girls were good-looking, but they themselves and Beletski, and +the orderly when he brought in the spice-cakes, all involuntarily gazed +at Maryanka, and anyone addressing the girls was sure to address her. +She seemed a proud and happy queen among them. + +Beletski, trying to keep up the spirit of the party, chattered +incessantly, made the girls hand round chikhir, fooled about with them, +and kept making improper remarks in French about Maryanka's beauty to +Olenin, calling her 'yours' (la votre), and advising him to behave as +he did himself. Olenin felt more and more uncomfortable. He was +devising an excuse to get out and run away when Beletski announced that +Ustenka, whose saint's day it was, must offer chikhir to everybody with +a kiss. She consented on condition that they should put money on her +plate, as is the custom at weddings. + +'What fiend brought me to this disgusting feast?' thought Olenin, +rising to go away. + +'Where are you off to?' + +'I'll fetch some tobacco,' he said, meaning to escape, but Beletski +seized his hand. + +'I have some money,' he said to him in French. + +'One can't go away, one has to pay here,' thought Olenin bitterly, +vexed at his own awkwardness. 'Can't I really behave like Beletski? I +ought not to have come, but once I am here I must not spoil their fun. +I must drink like a Cossack,' and taking the wooden bowl (holding about +eight tumblers) he almost filled it with chikhir and drank it almost +all. The girls looked at him, surprised and almost frightened, as he +drank. It seemed to them strange and not right. Ustenka brought them +another glass each, and kissed them both. 'There girls, now we'll have +some fun,' she said, clinking on the plate the four rubles the men had +put there. + +Olenin no longer felt awkward, but became talkative. + +'Now, Maryanka, it's your turn to offer us wine and a kiss,' said +Beletski, seizing her hand. + +'Yes, I'll give you such a kiss!' she said playfully, preparing to +strike at him. + +'One can kiss Grandad without payment,' said another girl. + +'There's a sensible girl,' said Beletski, kissing the struggling girl. +'No, you must offer it,' he insisted, addressing Maryanka. 'Offer a +glass to your lodger.' + +And taking her by the hand he led her to the bench and sat her down +beside Olenin. + +'What a beauty,' he said, turning her head to see it in profile. + +Maryanka did not resist but proudly smiling turned her long eyes +towards Olenin. + +'A beautiful girl,' repeated Beletski. + +'Yes, see what a beauty I am,' Maryanka's look seemed to endorse. +Without considering what he was doing Olenin embraced Maryanka and was +going to kiss her, but she suddenly extricated herself, upsetting +Beletski and pushing the top off the table, and sprang away towards the +oven. There was much shouting and laughter. Then Beletski whispered +something to the girls and suddenly they all ran out into the passage +and locked the door behind them. + +'Why did you kiss Beletski and won't kiss me?' asked Olenin. + +'Oh, just so. I don't want to, that's all!' she answered, pouting and +frowning. 'He's Grandad,' she added with a smile. She went to the door +and began to bang at it. 'Why have you locked the door, you devils?' + +'Well, let them be there and us here,' said Olenin, drawing closer to +her. + +She frowned, and sternly pushed him away with her hand. And again she +appeared so majestically handsome to Olenin that he came to his senses +and felt ashamed of what he was doing. He went to the door and began +pulling at it himself. + + 'Beletski! Open the door! What a stupid joke!' + +Maryanka again gave a bright happy laugh. 'Ah, you're afraid of me?' +she said. + +'Yes, you know you're as cross as your mother.' + +'Spend more of your time with Eroshka; that will make the girls love +you!' And she smiled, looking straight and close into his eyes. + +He did not know what to reply. 'And if I were to come to see you--' he +let fall. + +'That would be a different matter,' she replied, tossing her head. + +At that moment Beletski pushed the door open, and Maryanka sprang away +from Olenin and in doing so her thigh struck his leg. + +'It's all nonsense what I have been thinking about--love and +self-sacrifice and Lukashka. Happiness is the one thing. He who is +happy is right,' flashed through Olenin's mind, and with a strength +unexpected to himself he seized and kissed the beautiful Maryanka on +her temple and her cheek. Maryanka was not angry, but only burst into a +loud laugh and ran out to the other girls. + +That was the end of the party. Ustenka's mother, returned from her +work, gave all the girls a scolding, and turned them all out. + + + + +Chapter XXVI + + +'Yes,' thought Olenin, as he walked home. 'I need only slacken the +reins a bit and I might fall desperately in love with this Cossack +girl.' He went to bed with these thoughts, but expected it all to blow +over and that he would continue to live as before. + +But the old life did not return. His relations to Maryanka were +changed. The wall that had separated them was broken down. Olenin now +greeted her every time they met. + +The master of the house having returned to collect the rent, on hearing +of Olenin's wealth and generosity invited him to his hut. The old woman +received him kindly, and from the day of the party onwards Olenin often +went in of an evening and sat with them till late at night. He seemed +to be living in the village just as he used to, but within him +everything had changed. He spent his days in the forest, and towards +eight o'clock, when it began to grow dusk, he would go to see his +hosts, alone or with Daddy Eroshka. They grew so used to him that they +were surprised when he stayed away. He paid well for his wine and was a +quiet fellow. Vanyusha would bring him his tea and he would sit down in +a corner near the oven. The old woman did not mind him but went on with +her work, and over their tea or their chikhir they talked about Cossack +affairs, about the neighbours, or about Russia: Olenin relating and the +others inquiring. Sometimes he brought a book and read to himself. +Maryanka crouched like a wild goat with her feet drawn up under her, +sometimes on the top of the oven, sometimes in a dark corner. She did +not take part in the conversations, but Olenin saw her eyes and face +and heard her moving or cracking sunflower seeds, and he felt that she +listened with her whole being when he spoke, and was aware of his +presence while he silently read to himself. Sometimes he thought her +eyes were fixed on him, and meeting their radiance he involuntarily +became silent and gazed at her. Then she would instantly hide her face +and he would pretend to be deep in conversation with the old woman, +while he listened all the time to her breathing and to her every +movement and waited for her to look at him again. In the presence of +others she was generally bright and friendly with him, but when they +were alone together she was shy and rough. Sometimes he came in before +Maryanka had returned home. Suddenly he would hear her firm footsteps +and catch a glimmer of her blue cotton smock at the open door. Then she +would step into the middle of the hut, catch sight of him, and her eyes +would give a scarcely perceptible kindly smile, and he would feel happy +and frightened. + +He neither sought for nor wished for anything from her, but every day +her presence became more and more necessary to him. + +Olenin had entered into the life of the Cossack village so fully that +his past seemed quite foreign to him. As to the future, especially a +future outside the world in which he was now living, it did not +interest him at all. When he received letters from home, from relatives +and friends, he was offended by the evident distress with which they +regarded him as a lost man, while he in his village considered those as +lost who did not live as he was living. He felt sure he would never +repent of having broken away from his former surroundings and of having +settled down in this village to such a solitary and original life. When +out on expeditions, and when quartered at one of the forts, he felt +happy too; but it was here, from under Daddy Eroshka's wing, from the +forest and from his hut at the end of the village, and especially when +he thought of Maryanka and Lukashka, that he seemed to see the +falseness of his former life. That falseness used to rouse his +indignation even before, but now it seemed inexpressibly vile and +ridiculous. Here he felt freer and freer every day and more and more of +a man. The Caucasus now appeared entirely different to what his +imagination had painted it. He had found nothing at all like his +dreams, nor like the descriptions of the Caucasus he had heard and +read. 'There are none of all those chestnut steeds, precipices, Amalet +Beks, heroes or villains,' thought he. 'The people live as nature +lives: they die, are born, unite, and more are born--they fight, eat +and drink, rejoice and die, without any restrictions but those that +nature imposes on sun and grass, on animal and tree. They have no other +laws.' Therefore these people, compared to himself, appeared to him +beautiful, strong, and free, and the sight of them made him feel +ashamed and sorry for himself. Often it seriously occurred to him to +throw up everything, to get registered as a Cossack, to buy a hut and +cattle and marry a Cossack woman (only not Maryanka, whom he conceded +to Lukashka), and to live with Daddy Eroshka and go shooting and +fishing with him, and go with the Cossacks on their expeditions. 'Why +ever don't I do it? What am I waiting for?' he asked himself, and he +egged himself on and shamed himself. 'Am I afraid of doing what I hold +to be reasonable and right? Is the wish to be a simple Cossack, to live +close to nature, not to injure anyone but even to do good to others, +more stupid than my former dreams, such as those of becoming a minister +of state or a colonel?' but a voice seemed to say that he should wait, +and not take any decision. He was held back by a dim consciousness that +he could not live altogether like Eroshka and Lukashka because he had a +different idea of happiness--he was held back by the thought that +happiness lies in self-sacrifice. What he had done for Lukashka +continued to give him joy. He kept looking for occasions to sacrifice +himself for others, but did not meet with them. Sometimes he forgot +this newly discovered recipe for happiness and considered himself +capable of identifying his life with Daddy Eroshka's, but then he +quickly bethought himself and promptly clutched at the idea of +conscious self-sacrifice, and from that basis looked calmly and proudly +at all men and at their happiness. + + + + +Chapter XXVII + + +Just before the vintage Lukashka came on horseback to see Olenin. He +looked more dashing than ever. 'Well? Are you getting married?' asked +Olenin, greeting him merrily. + +Lukashka gave no direct reply. + +'There, I've exchanged your horse across the river. This is a horse! A +Kabarda horse from the Lov stud. I know horses.' + +They examined the new horse and made him caracole about the yard. The +horse really was an exceptionally fine one, a broad and long gelding, +with glossy coat, thick silky tail, and the soft fine mane and crest of +a thoroughbred. He was so well fed that 'you might go to sleep on his +back' as Lukashka expressed it. His hoofs, eyes, teeth, were +exquisitely shaped and sharply outlined, as one only finds them in very +pure-bred horses. Olenin could not help admiring the horse, he had not +yet met with such a beauty in the Caucasus. + +'And how it goes!' said Lukashka, patting its neck. 'What a step! And +so clever--he simply runs after his master.' + +'Did you have to add much to make the exchange?' asked Olenin. + +'I did not count it,' answered Lukashka with a smile. 'I got him from a +kunak.' + +'A wonderfully beautiful horse! What would you take for it?' asked +Olenin. + +'I have been offered a hundred and fifty rubles for it, but I'll give +it you for nothing,' said Lukashka, merrily. 'Only say the word and +it's yours. I'll unsaddle it and you may take it. Only give me some +sort of a horse for my duties.' + +'No, on no account.' + +'Well then, here is a dagger I've brought you,' said Lukashka, +unfastening his girdle and taking out one of the two daggers which hung +from it. 'I got it from across the river.' + +'Oh, thank you!' + +'And mother has promised to bring you some grapes herself.' + +'That's quite unnecessary. We'll balance up some day. You see I don't +offer you any money for the dagger!' + +'How could you? We are kunaks. It's just the same as when Girey Khan +across the river took me into his home and said, + +"Choose what you like!" So I took this sword. It's our custom.' + +They went into the hut and had a drink. + +'Are you staying here awhile?' asked Olenin. + +'No, I have come to say good-bye. They are sending me from the cordon +to a company beyond the Terek. I am going to-night with my comrade +Nazarka.' + +'And when is the wedding to be?' + +'I shall be coming back for the betrothal, and then I shall return to +the company again,' Lukashka replied reluctantly. + +'What, and see nothing of your betrothed?' + +'Just so--what is the good of looking at her? When you go on campaign +ask in our company for Lukashka the Broad. But what a lot of boars +there are in our parts! I've killed two. I'll take you.' 'Well, +good-bye! Christ save you.' + +Lukashka mounted his horse, and without calling on Maryanka, rode +caracoling down the street, where Nazarka was already awaiting him. + +'I say, shan't we call round?' asked Nazarka, winking in the direction +of Yamka's house. + +'That's a good one!' said Lukashka. 'Here, take my horse to her and if +I don't come soon give him some hay. I shall reach the company by the +morning anyway.' + +'Hasn't the cadet given you anything more?' + +'I am thankful to have paid him back with a dagger--he was going to ask +for the horse,' said Lukashka, dismounting and handing over the horse +to Nazarka. + +He darted into the yard past Olenin's very window, and came up to the +window of the cornet's hut. It was already quite dark. Maryanka, +wearing only her smock, was combing her hair preparing for bed. + +'It's I--' whispered the Cossack. + +Maryanka's look was severely indifferent, but her face suddenly +brightened up when she heard her name. She opened the window and leant +out, frightened and joyous. + +'What--what do you want?' she said. + +'Open!' uttered Lukashka. 'Let me in for a minute. I am so sick of +waiting! It's awful!' + +He took hold of her head through the window and kissed her. + +'Really, do open!' + +'Why do you talk nonsense? I've told you I won't! Have you come for +long?' + +He did not answer but went on kissing her, and she did not ask again. + +'There, through the window one can't even hug you properly,' said +Lukashka. + +'Maryanka dear!' came the voice of her mother, 'who is that with you?' + +Lukashka took off his cap, which might have been seen, and crouched +down by the window. + +'Go, be quick!' whispered Maryanka. + +'Lukashka called round,' she answered; 'he was asking for Daddy.' + +'Well then send him here!' + +'He's gone; said he was in a hurry.' + +In fact, Lukashka, stooping, as with big strides he passed under the +windows, ran out through the yard and towards Yamka's house unseen by +anyone but Olenin. After drinking two bowls of chikhir he and Nazarka +rode away to the outpost. The night was warm, dark, and calm. They rode +in silence, only the footfall of their horses was heard. Lukashka +started a song about the Cossack, Mingal, but stopped before he had +finished the first verse, and after a pause, turning to Nazarka, said: + +'I say, she wouldn't let me in!' + +'Oh?' rejoined Nazarka. 'I knew she wouldn't. D'you know what Yamka +told me? The cadet has begun going to their house. Daddy Eroshka brags +that he got a gun from the cadet for getting him Maryanka.' + +'He lies, the old devil!' said Lukashka, angrily. 'She's not such a +girl. If he does not look out I'll wallop that old devil's sides,' and +he began his favourite song: + +'From the village of Izmaylov, + From the master's favourite garden, + Once escaped a keen-eyed falcon. + Soon after him a huntsman came a-riding, + And he beckoned to the falcon that had strayed, + But the bright-eyed bird thus answered: + "In gold cage you could not keep me, + On your hand you could not hold me, + So now I fly to blue seas far away. + There a white swan I will kill, + Of sweet swan-flesh have my fill."' + + + + +Chapter XXVIII + + +The bethrothal was taking place in the cornet's hut. Lukashka had +returned to the village, but had not been to see Olenin, and Olenin had +not gone to the betrothal though he had been invited. He was sad as he +had never been since he settled in this Cossack village. He had seen +Lukashka earlier in the evening and was worried by the question why +Lukashka was so cold towards him. Olenin shut himself up in his hut and +began writing in his diary as follows: + +'Many things have I pondered over lately and much have I changed,' +wrote he, 'and I have come back to the copybook maxim: The one way to +be happy is to love, to love self-denyingly, to love everybody and +everything; to spread a web of love on all sides and to take all who +come into it. In this way I caught Vanyusha, Daddy Eroshka, Lukashka, +and Maryanka.' + +As Olenin was finishing this sentence Daddy Eroshka entered the room. + +Eroshka was in the happiest frame of mind. A few evenings before this, +Olenin had gone to see him and had found him with a proud and happy +face deftly skinning the carcass of a boar with a small knife in the +yard. The dogs (Lyam his pet among them) were lying close by watching +what he was doing and gently wagging their tails. The little boys were +respectfully looking at him through the fence and not even teasing him +as was their wont. His women neighbours, who were as a rule not too +gracious towards him, greeted him and brought him, one a jug of +chikhir, another some clotted cream, and a third a little flour. The +next day Eroshka sat in his store-room all covered with blood, and +distributed pounds of boar-flesh, taking in payment money from some and +wine from others. His face clearly expressed, 'God has sent me luck. I +have killed a boar, so now I am wanted.' Consequently, he naturally +began to drink, and had gone on for four days never leaving the +village. Besides which he had had something to drink at the betrothal. + +He came to Olenin quite drunk: his face red, his beard tangled, but +wearing a new beshmet trimmed with gold braid; and he brought with him +a balalayka which he had obtained beyond the river. He had long +promised Olenin this treat, and felt in the mood for it, so that he was +sorry to find Olenin writing. + +'Write on, write on, my lad,' he whispered, as if he thought that a +spirit sat between him and the paper and must not be frightened away, +and he softly and silently sat down on the floor. When Daddy Eroshka +was drunk his favourite position was on the floor. Olenin looked round, +ordered some wine to be brought, and continued to write. Eroshka found +it dull to drink by himself and he wished to talk. + +'I've been to the betrothal at the cornet's. But there! They're +shwine!--Don't want them!--Have come to you.' + +'And where did you get your balalayka asked Olenin, still writing. + +'I've been beyond the river and got it there, brother mine,' he +answered, also very quietly. 'I'm a master at it. Tartar or Cossack, +squire or soldiers' songs, any kind you please.' + +Olenin looked at him again, smiled, and went on writing. + +That smile emboldened the old man. + +'Come, leave off, my lad, leave off!' he said with sudden firmness. + +'Well, perhaps I will.' + +'Come, people have injured you but leave them alone, spit at them! +Come, what's the use of writing and writing, what's the good?' + +And he tried to mimic Olenin by tapping the floor with his thick +fingers, and then twisted his big face to express contempt. + +'What's the good of writing quibbles. Better have a spree and show +you're a man!' + +No other conception of writing found place in his head except that of +legal chicanery. + +Olenin burst out laughing and so did Eroshka. Then, jumping up from the +floor, the latter began to show off his skill on the balalayka and to +sing Tartar songs. + +'Why write, my good fellow! You'd better listen to what I'll sing to +you. When you're dead you won't hear any more songs. Make merry now!' + +First he sang a song of his own composing accompanied by a dance: + +'Ah, dee, dee, dee, dee, dee, dim, Say where did they last see him? In +a booth, at the fair, He was selling pins, there.' + +Then he sang a song he had learnt from his former sergeant-major: + +'Deep I fell in love on Monday, Tuesday nothing did but sigh, Wednesday +I popped the question, Thursday waited her reply. Friday, late, it came +at last, Then all hope for me was past! Saturday my life to take I +determined like a man, But for my salvation's sake Sunday morning +changed my plan!' + +Then he sang again: + +'Oh dee, dee, dee, dee, dee, dim, Say where did they last see him?' + +And after that, winking, twitching his shoulders, and footing it to the +tune, he sang: + +'I will kiss you and embrace, Ribbons red twine round you; And I'll +call you little Grace. Oh, you little Grace now do Tell me, do you love +me true?' + +And he became so excited that with a sudden dashing movement he started +dancing around the room accompanying himself the while. + +Songs like 'Dee, dee, dee'--'gentlemen's songs'--he sang for Olenin's +benefit, but after drinking three more tumblers of chikhir he +remembered old times and began singing real Cossack and Tartar songs. +In the midst of one of his favourite songs his voice suddenly trembled +and he ceased singing, and only continued strumming on the balalayka. + +'Oh, my dear friend!' he said. + +The peculiar sound of his voice made Olenin look round. + +The old man was weeping. Tears stood in his eyes and one tear was +running down his cheek. + +'You are gone, my young days, and will never come back!' he said, +blubbering and halting. 'Drink, why don't you drink!' he suddenly +shouted with a deafening roar, without wiping away his tears. + +There was one Tartar song that specially moved him. It had few words, +but its charm lay in the sad refrain. 'Ay day, dalalay!' Eroshka +translated the words of the song: 'A youth drove his sheep from the +aoul to the mountains: the Russians came and burnt the aoul, they +killed all the men and took all the women into bondage. The youth +returned from the mountains. Where the aoul had stood was an empty +space; his mother not there, nor his brothers, nor his house; one tree +alone was left standing. The youth sat beneath the tree and wept. +"Alone like thee, alone am I left,'" and Eroshka began singing: 'Ay +day, dalalay!' and the old man repeated several times this wailing, +heart-rending refrain. + +When he had finished the refrain Eroshka suddenly seized a gun that +hung on the wall, rushed hurriedly out into the yard and fired off both +barrels into the air. Then again he began, more dolefully, his 'Ay day, +dalalay--ah, ah,' and ceased. + +Olenin followed him into the porch and looked up into the starry sky in +the direction where the shots had flashed. In the cornet's house there +were lights and the sound of voices. In the yard girls were crowding +round the porch and the windows, and running backwards and forwards +between the hut and the outhouse. Some Cossacks rushed out of the hut +and could not refrain from shouting, re-echoing the refrain of Daddy +Eroshka's song and his shots. + +'Why are you not at the betrothal?' asked Olenin. + +'Never mind them! Never mind them!' muttered the old man, who had +evidently been offended by something there. 'Don't like them, I don't. +Oh, those people! Come back into the hut! Let them make merry by +themselves and we'll make merry by ourselves.' + +Olenin went in. + +'And Lukashka, is he happy? Won't he come to see me?' he asked. + +'What, Lukashka? They've lied to him and said I am getting his girl for +you,' whispered the old man. 'But what's the girl? She will be ours if +we want her. Give enough money--and she's ours. I'll fix it up for you. +Really!' + +'No, Daddy, money can do nothing if she does not love me. You'd better +not talk like that!' + +'We are not loved, you and I. We are forlorn,' said Daddy Eroshka +suddenly, and again he began to cry. + +Listening to the old man's talk Olenin had drunk more than usual. 'So +now my Lukashka is happy,' thought he; yet he felt sad. The old man had +drunk so much that evening that he fell down on the floor and Vanyusha +had to call soldiers in to help, and spat as they dragged the old man +out. He was so angry with the old man for his bad behaviour that he did +not even say a single French word. + + + + +Chapter XXIX + + +It was August. For days the sky had been cloudless, the sun scorched +unbearably and from early morning the warm wind raised a whirl of hot +sand from the sand-drifts and from the road, and bore it in the air +through the reeds, the trees, and the village. The grass and the leaves +on the trees were covered with dust, the roads and dried-up salt +marshes were baked so hard that they rang when trodden on. The water +had long since subsided in the Terek and rapidly vanished and dried up +in the ditches. The slimy banks of the pond near the village were +trodden bare by the cattle and all day long you could hear the +splashing of water and the shouting of girls and boys bathing. The +sand-drifts and the reeds were already drying up in the steppes, and +the cattle, lowing, ran into the fields in the day-time. The boars +migrated into the distant reed-beds and to the hills beyond the Terek. +Mosquitoes and gnats swarmed in thick clouds over the low lands and +villages. The snow-peaks were hidden in grey mist. The air was rarefied +and smoky. It was said that abreks had crossed the now shallow river +and were prowling on this side of it. Every night the sun set in a +glowing red blaze. It was the busiest time of the year. The villagers +all swarmed in the melon-fields and the vineyards. The vineyards +thickly overgrown with twining verdure lay in cool, deep shade. +Everywhere between the broad translucent leaves, ripe, heavy, black +clusters peeped out. Along the dusty road from the vineyards the +creaking carts moved slowly, heaped up with black grapes. Clusters of +them, crushed by the wheels, lay in the dirt. Boys and girls in smocks +stained with grape-juice, with grapes in their hands and mouths, ran +after their mothers. On the road you continually came across tattered +labourers with baskets of grapes on their powerful shoulders; Cossack +maidens, veiled with kerchiefs to their eyes, drove bullocks harnessed +to carts laden high with grapes. Soldiers who happened to meet these +carts asked for grapes, and the maidens, clambering up without stopping +their carts, would take an armful of grapes and drop them into the +skirts of the soldiers' coats. In some homesteads they had already +begun pressing the grapes; and the smell of the emptied skins filled +the air. One saw the blood-red troughs in the pent-houses in the yards +and Nogay labourers with their trousers rolled up and their legs +stained with the juice. Grunting pigs gorged themselves with the empty +skins and rolled about in them. The flat roofs of the outhouses were +all spread over with the dark amber clusters drying in the sun. Daws +and magpies crowded round the roofs, picking the seeds and fluttering +from one place to another. + +The fruits of the year's labour were being merrily gathered in, and +this year the fruit was unusually fine and plentiful. + +In the shady green vineyards amid a sea of vines, laughter, songs, +merriment, and the voices of women were to be heard on all sides, and +glimpses of their bright-coloured garments could be seen. + +Just at noon Maryanka was sitting in their vineyard in the shade of a +peach-tree, getting out the family dinner from under an unharnessed +cart. Opposite her, on a spread-out horse-cloth, sat the cornet (who +had returned from the school) washing his hands by pouring water on +them from a little jug. Her little brother, who had just come straight +out of the pond, stood wiping his face with his wide sleeves, and gazed +anxiously at his sister and his mother and breathed deeply, awaiting +his dinner. The old mother, with her sleeves rolled up over her strong +sunburnt arms, was arranging grapes, dried fish, and clotted cream on a +little low, circular Tartar table. The cornet wiped his hands, took off +his cap, crossed himself, and moved nearer to the table. The boy seized +the jug and eagerly began to drink. The mother and daughter crossed +their legs under them and sat down by the table. Even in the shade it +was intolerably hot. The air above the vineyard smelt unpleasant: the +strong warm wind passing amid the branches brought no coolness, but +only monotonously bent the tops of the pear, peach, and mulberry trees +with which the vineyard was sprinkled. The cornet, having crossed +himself once more, took a little jug of <i>chikhir</i> that stood +behind him covered with a vine-leaf, and having had a drink from the +mouth of the jug passed it to the old woman. He had nothing on over +his shirt, which was unfastened at the neck and showed his shaggy +muscular chest. His fine-featured cunning face looked cheerful; neither +in his attitude nor in his words was his usual wiliness to be seen; he +was cheerful and natural. + +'Shall we finish the bit beyond the shed to-night?' he asked, wiping +his wet beard. + +'We'll manage it,' replied his wife, 'if only the weather does not +hinder us. The Demkins have not half finished yet,' she added. 'Only +Ustenka is at work there, wearing herself out.' + +'What can you expect of them?' said the old man proudly. + +'Here, have a drink, Maryanka dear!' said the old woman, passing the +jug to the girl. 'God willing we'll have enough to pay for the +wedding feast,' she added. + +'That's not yet awhile,' said the cornet with a slight frown. + +The girl hung her head. + +'Why shouldn't we mention it?' said the old woman. 'The affair is +settled, and the time is drawing near too.' + +'Don't make plans beforehand,' said the cornet. 'Now we have the +harvest to get in.' + +'Have you seen Lukashka's new horse?' asked the old woman. 'That +which Dmitri Andreich Olenin gave him is gone -- he's exchanged it.' + +'No, I have not; but I spoke with the servant to-day,' said the cornet, +'and he said his master has again received a thousand rubles.' + +'Rolling in riches, in short,' said the old woman. + +The whole family felt cheerful and contented. + +The work was progressing successfully. The grapes were more abundant +and finer than they had expected. + +After dinner Maryanka threw some grass to the oxen, folded her +<i>beshmet</i> for a pillow, and lay down under the wagon on the juicy +down-trodden grass. She had on only a red kerchief over her head and a +faded blue print smock, yet + +she felt unbearably hot. Her face was burning, and she did not know +where to put her feet, her eyes were moist with sleepiness and +weariness, her lips parted involuntarily, and her chest heaved heavily +and deeply. + +The busy time of year had begun a fortnight ago and the continuous +heavy labour had filled the girl's life. At dawn she jumped up, washed +her face with cold water, wrapped herself in a shawl, and ran out +barefoot to see to the cattle. Then she hurriedly put on her shoes and +her beshmet and, taking a small bundle of bread, she harnessed the +bullocks and drove away to the vineyards for the whole day. There she +cut the grapes and carried the baskets with only an hour's interval for +rest, and in the evening she returned to the village, bright and not +tired, dragging the bullocks by a rope or driving them with a long +stick. After attending to the cattle, she took some sunflower seeds in +the wide sleeve of her smock and went to the corner of the street to +crack them and have some fun with the other girls. But as soon as it +was dusk she returned home, and after having supper with her parents +and her brother in the dark outhouse, she went into the hut, healthy +and free from care, and climbed onto the oven, where half drowsing she +listened to their lodger's conversation. As soon as he went away she +would throw herself down on her bed and sleep soundly and quietly till +morning. And so it went on day after day. She had not seen Lukashka +since the day of their betrothal, but calmly awaited the wedding. She +had got used to their lodger and felt his intent looks with pleasure. + + + + +Chapter XXX + + +Although there was no escape from the heat and the mosquitoes swarmed +in the cool shadow of the wagons, and her little brother tossing about +beside her kept pushing her, Maryanka having drawn her kerchief over +her head was just falling asleep, when suddenly their neighbour Ustenka +came running towards her and, diving under the wagon, lay down beside +her. + +'Sleep, girls, sleep!' said Ustenka, making herself comfortable under +the wagon. 'Wait a bit,' she exclaimed, 'this won't do!' + +She jumped up, plucked some green branches, and stuck them through the +wheels on both sides of the wagon and hung her beshmet over them. + +'Let me in,' she shouted to the little boy as she again crept under the +wagon. 'Is this the place for a Cossack--with the girls? Go away!' + +When alone under the wagon with her friend, Ustenka suddenly put both +her arms round her, and clinging close to her began kissing her cheeks +and neck. + +'Darling, sweetheart,' she kept repeating, between bursts of shrill, +clear laughter. + +'Why, you've learnt it from Grandad,' said Maryanka, struggling. 'Stop +it!' + +And they both broke into such peals of laughter that Maryanka's mother +shouted to them to be quiet. + +'Are you jealous?' asked Ustenka in a whisper. + +'What humbug! Let me sleep. What have you come for?' + +But Ustenka kept on, 'I say! But I wanted to tell you such a thing.' + +Maryanka raised herself on her elbow and arranged the kerchief which +had slipped off. + +'Well, what is it?' + +'I know something about your lodger!' + +'There's nothing to know,' said Maryanka. + +'Oh, you rogue of a girl!' said Ustenka, nudging her with her elbow and +laughing. 'Won't tell anything. Does he come to you?' + +'He does. What of that?' said Maryanka with a sudden blush. + +'Now I'm a simple lass. I tell everybody. Why should I pretend?' said +Ustenka, and her bright rosy face suddenly became pensive. 'Whom do I +hurt? I love him, that's all about it.' + +'Grandad, do you mean?' + +'Well, yes!' + +'And the sin?' + +'Ah, Maryanka! When is one to have a good time if not while one's still +free? When I marry a Cossack I shall bear children and shall have +cares. There now, when you get married to Lukashka not even a thought +of joy will enter your head: children will come, and work!' + +'Well? Some who are married live happily. It makes no difference!' +Maryanka replied quietly. + +'Do tell me just this once what has passed between you and Lukishka?' + +'What has passed? A match was proposed. Father put it off for a year, +but now it's been settled and they'll marry us in autumn.' + +'But what did he say to you?' Maryanka smiled. + +'What should he say? He said he loved me. He kept asking me to come to +the vineyards with him.' + +'Just see what pitch! But you didn't go, did you? And what a dare-devil +he has become: the first among the braves. He makes merry out there in +the army too! The other day our Kirka came home; he says: "What a horse +Lukashka's got in exchange!" But all the same I expect he frets after +you. And what else did he say?' + +'Must you know everything?' said Maryanka laughing. 'One night he came +to my window tipsy, and asked me to let him in.' 'And you didn't let +him?' + +'Let him, indeed! Once I have said a thing I keep to it firm as a +rock,' answered Maryanka seriously. + +'A fine fellow! If he wanted her, no girl would refuse him.' + +'Well, let him go to the others,' replied Maryanka proudly. + +'You don't pity him?' + +'I do pity him, but I'll have no nonsense. It is wrong.' Ustenka +suddenly dropped her head on her friend's breast, seized hold of her, +and shook with smothered laughter. 'You silly fool!' she exclaimed, +quite out of breath. 'You don't want to be happy,' and she began +tickling Maryanka. 'Oh, leave off!' said Maryanka, screaming and +laughing. 'You've crushed Lazutka.' + +'Hark at those young devils! Quite frisky! Not tired yet!' came the old +woman's sleepy voice from the wagon. + +'Don't want happiness,' repeated Ustenka in a whisper, insistently. +'But you are lucky, that you are! How they love you! You are so crusty, +and yet they love you. Ah, if I were in your place I'd soon turn the +lodger's head! I noticed him when you were at our house. He was ready +to eat you with his eyes. What things Grandad has given me! And yours +they say is the richest of the Russians. His orderly says they have +serfs of their own.' + +Maryanka raised herself, and after thinking a moment, smiled. + +'Do you know what he once told me: the lodger I mean?' she said, biting +a bit of grass. 'He said, "I'd like to be Lukashka the Cossack, or your +brother Lazutka--." What do you think he meant?' + +'Oh, just chattering what came into his head,' answered Ustenka. 'What +does mine not say! Just as if he was possessed!' + +Maryanka dropped her hand on her folded beshmet, threw her arm over +Ustenka's shoulder, and shut her eyes. + +'He wanted to come and work in the vineyard to-day: father invited +him,' she said, and after a short silence she fell asleep. + + + + +Chapter XXXI + + +The sun had come out from behind the pear-tree that had shaded the +wagon, and even through the branches that Ustenka had fixed up it +scorched the faces of the sleeping girls. Maryanka woke up and began +arranging the kerchief on her head. Looking about her, beyond the +pear-tree she noticed their lodger, who with his gun on his shoulder +stood talking to her father. She nudged Ustenka and smilingly pointed +him out to her. + +'I went yesterday and didn't find a single one,' Olenin was saying as +he looked about uneasily, not seeing Maryanka through the branches. + +'Ah, you should go out there in that direction, go right as by +compasses, there in a disused vineyard denominated as the Waste, hares +are always to be found,' said the cornet, having at once changed his +manner of speech. + +'A fine thing to go looking for hares in these busy times! You had +better come and help us, and do some work with the girls,' the old +woman said merrily. 'Now then, girls, up with you!' she cried. + +Maryanka and Ustenka under the cart were whispering and could hardly +restrain their laughter. + +Since it had become known that Olenin had given a horse worth fifty +rubles to Lukashka, his hosts had become more amiable and the cornet in +particular saw with pleasure his daughter's growing intimacy with +Olenin. 'But I don't know how to do the work,' replied Olenin, trying +not to look through the green branches under the wagon where he had now +noticed Maryanka's blue smock and red kerchief. + +'Come, I'll give you some peaches,' said the old woman. + +'It's only according to the ancient Cossack hospitality. It's her old +woman's silliness,' said the cornet, explaining and apparently +correcting his wife's words. 'In Russia, I expect, it's not so much +peaches as pineapple jam and preserves you have been accustomed to eat +at your pleasure.' + +'So you say hares are to be found in the disused vineyard?' asked +Olenin. 'I will go there,' and throwing a hasty glance through the +green branches he raised his cap and disappeared between the regular +rows of green vines. + +The sun had already sunk behind the fence of the vineyards, and its +broken rays glittered through the translucent leaves when Olenin +returned to his host's vineyard. The wind was falling and a cool +freshness was beginning to spread around. By some instinct Olenin +recognized from afar Maryanka's blue smock among the rows of vine, and, +picking grapes on his way, he approached her. His highly excited dog +also now and then seized a low-hanging cluster of grapes in his +slobbering mouth. Maryanka, her face flushed, her sleeves rolled up, +and her kerchief down below her chin, was rapidly cutting the heavy +clusters and laying them in a basket. Without letting go of the vine +she had hold of, she stopped to smile pleasantly at him and resumed her +work. Olenin drew near and threw his gun behind his back to have his +hands free. 'Where are your people? May God aid you! Are you alone?' he +meant to say but did not say, and only raised his cap in silence. + +He was ill at ease alone with Maryanka, but as if purposely to torment +himself he went up to her. + +'You'll be shooting the women with your gun like that,' said Maryanka. + +'No, I shan't shoot them.' + +They were both silent. + +Then after a pause she said: 'You should help me.' + +He took out his knife and began silently to cut off the clusters. He +reached from under the leaves low down a thick bunch weighing about +three pounds, the grapes of which grew so close that they flattened +each other for want of space. He showed it to Maryanka. + +'Must they all be cut? Isn't this one too green?' + +'Give it here.' + +Their hands touched. Olenin took her hand, and she looked at him +smiling. + +'Are you going to be married soon?' he asked. + +She did not answer, but turned away with a stern look. + +'Do you love Lukashka?' + +'What's that to you?' + +'I envy him!' + +'Very likely!' 'No really. You are so beautiful!' + +And he suddenly felt terribly ashamed of having said it, so commonplace +did the words seem to him. He flushed, lost control of himself, and +seized both her hands. + +'Whatever I am, I'm not for you. Why do you make fun of me?' replied +Maryanka, but her look showed how certainly she knew he was not making +fun. + +'Making fun? If you only knew how I--' + +The words sounded still more commonplace, they accorded still less with +what he felt, but yet he continued, 'I don't know what I would not do +for you--' + +'Leave me alone, you pitch!' + +But her face, her shining eyes, her swelling bosom, her shapely legs, +said something quite different. It seemed to him that she understood +how petty were all things he had said, but that she was superior to +such considerations. It seemed to him she had long known all he wished +and was not able to tell her, but wanted to hear how he would say it. +'And how can she help knowing,' he thought, 'since I only want to tell +her all that she herself is? But she does not wish to under-stand, does +not wish to reply.' + +'Hallo!' suddenly came Ustenka's high voice from behind the vine at no +great distance, followed by her shrill laugh. 'Come and help me, Dmitri +Andreich. I am all alone,' she cried, thrusting her round, naive little +face through the vines. + +Olenin did not answer nor move from his place. + +Maryanka went on cutting and continually looked up at Olenin. He was +about to say something, but stopped, shrugged his shoulders and, having +jerked up his gun, walked out of the vineyard with rapid strides. + + + + +Chapter XXXII + + +He stopped once or twice, listening to the ringing laughter of Maryanka +and Ustenka who, having come together, were shouting something. Olenin +spent the whole evening hunting in the forest and returned home at dusk +without having killed anything. When crossing the road he noticed her +open the door of the outhouse, and her blue smock showed through it. He +called to Vanyusha very loud so as to let her know that he was back, +and then sat down in the porch in his usual place. His hosts now +returned from the vineyard; they came out of the outhouse and into +their hut, but did not ask of the latch and knocked. The floor hardly +creaked under the bare cautious footsteps which approached the door. +The latch clicked, the door creaked, and he noticed a faint smell of +marjoram and pumpkin, and Maryanka's whole figure appeared in the +doorway. He saw her only for an instant in the moonlight. She slammed +the door and, muttering something, ran lightly back again. Olenin began +rapping softly but nothing responded. He ran to the window and +listened. Suddenly he was startled by a shrill, squeaky man's voice. + +'Fine!' exclaimed a rather small young Cossack in a white cap, coming +across the yard close to Olenin. 'I saw ... fine!' + +Olenin recognized Nazarka, and was silent, not knowing what to do or +say. + +'Fine! I'll go and tell them at the office, and I'll tell her father! +That's a fine cornet's daughter! One's not enough for her.' + +'What do you want of me, what are you after?' uttered Olenin. + +'Nothing; only I'll tell them at the office.' + +Nazarka spoke very loud, and evidently did so intentionally, adding: +'Just see what a clever cadet!' + +Olenin trembled and grew pale. + +'Come here, here!' He seized the Cossack firmly by the arm and drew him +towards his hut. + +'Nothing happened, she did not let me in, and I too mean no harm. She +is an honest girl--' + +'Eh, discuss--' + +'Yes, but all the same I'll give you something now. Wait a bit!' + +Nazarka said nothing. Olenin ran into his hut and brought out ten +rubles, which he gave to the Cossack. + +'Nothing happened, but still I was to blame, so I give this!--Only for +God's sake don't let anyone know, for nothing happened...' + +'I wish you joy,' said Nazarka laughing, and went away. + +Nazarka had come to the village that night at Lukashka's bidding to +find a place to hide a stolen horse, and now, passing by on his way +home, had heard the sound of footsteps. When he returned next morning +to his company he bragged to his chum, and told him how cleverly he had +got ten rubles. Next morning Olenin met his hosts and they knew nothing +about the events of the night. He did not speak to Maryanka, and she +only laughed a little when she looked at him. Next night he also passed +without sleep, vainly wandering about the yard. The day after he +purposely spent shooting, and in the evening he went to see Beletski to +escape from his own thoughts. He was afraid of himself, and promised +himself not to go to his hosts' hut any more. + +That night he was roused by the sergeant-major. His company was ordered +to start at once on a raid. Olenin was glad this had happened, and +thought he would not again return to the village. + +The raid lasted four days. The commander, who was a relative of +Olenin's, wished to see him and offered to let him remain with the +staff, but this Olenin declined. He found that he could not live away +from the village, and asked to be allowed to return to it. For having +taken part in the raid he received a soldier's cross, which he had +formerly greatly desired. Now he was quite indifferent about it, and +even more indifferent about his promotion, the order for which had +still not arrived. Accompanied by Vanyusha he rode back to the cordon +without any accident several hours in advance of the rest of the +company. He spent the whole evening in his porch watching Maryanka, and +he again walked about the yard, without aim or thought, all night. + + + + +Chapter XXXIII + + +It was late when he awoke the next day. His hosts were no longer in. He +did not go shooting, but now took up a book, and now went out into the +porch, and now again re-entered the hut and lay down on the bed. +Vanyusha thought he was ill. + +Towards evening Olenin got up, resolutely began writing, and wrote on +till late at night. He wrote a letter, but did not post it because he +felt that no one would have understood what he wanted to say, and +besides it was not necessary that anyone but himself should understand +it. This is what he wrote: + +'I receive letters of condolence from Russia. They are afraid that I +shall perish, buried in these wilds. They say about me: "He will become +coarse; he will be behind the times in everything; he will take to +drink, and who knows but that he may marry a Cossack girl." It was not +for nothing, they say, that Ermolov declared: "Anyone serving in the +Caucasus for ten years either becomes a confirmed drunkard or marries a +loose woman." How terrible! Indeed it won't do for me to ruin myself +when I might have the great happiness of even becoming the Countess +B----'s husband, or a Court chamberlain, or a Marechal de noblesse of +my district. Oh, how repulsive and pitiable you all seem to me! You do +not know what happiness is and what life is! One must taste life once +in all its natural beauty, must see and understand what I see every day +before me--those eternally unapproachable snowy peaks, and a majestic +woman in that primitive beauty in which the first woman must have come +from her creator's hands--and then it becomes clear who is ruining +himself and who is living truly or falsely--you or I. If you only knew +how despicable and pitiable you, in your delusions, seem to me! When I +picture to myself--in place of my hut, my forests, and my love--those +drawing-rooms, those women with their pomatum-greased hair eked out +with false curls, those unnaturally grimacing lips, those hidden, +feeble, distorted limbs, and that chatter of obligatory drawing-room +conversation which has no right to the name--I feel unendurably +revolted. I then see before me those obtuse faces, those rich eligible +girls whose looks seem to say: + +"It's all right, you may come near though I am rich and eligible"--and +that arranging and rearranging of seats, that shameless match-making +and that eternal tittle-tattle and pretence; those rules--with whom to +shake hands, to whom only to nod, with whom to converse (and all this +done deliberately with a conviction of its inevitability), that +continual ennui in the blood passing on from generation to generation. +Try to understand or believe just this one thing: you need only see and +comprehend what truth and beauty are, and all that you now say and +think and all your wishes for me and for yourselves will fly to atoms! +Happiness is being with nature, seeing her, and conversing with her. +"He may even (God forbid) marry a common Cossack girl, and be quite +lost socially" I can imagine them saying of me with sincere pity! Yet +the one thing I desire is to be quite "lost" in your sense of the word. +I wish to marry a Cossack girl, and dare not because it would be a +height of happiness of which I am unworthy. + +'Three months have passed since I first saw the Cossack girl, Maryanka. +The views and prejudices of the world I had left were still fresh in +me. I did not then believe that I could love that woman. I delighted in +her beauty just as I delighted in the beauty of the mountains and the +sky, nor could I help delighting in her, for she is as beautiful as +they. I found that the sight of her beauty had become a necessity of my +life and I began asking myself whether I did not love her. But I could +find nothing within myself at all like love as I had imagined it to be. +Mine was not the restlessness of loneliness and desire for marriage, +nor was it platonic, still less a carnal love such as I have +experienced. I needed only to see her, to hear her, to know that she +was near--and if I was not happy, I was at peace. + +'After an evening gathering at which I met her and touched her, I felt +that between that woman and myself there existed an indissoluble though +unacknowledged bond against which I could not struggle, yet I did +struggle. I asked myself: "Is it possible to love a woman who will +never understand the profoundest interests of my life? Is it possible +to love a woman simply for her beauty, to love the statue of a woman?" +But I was already in love with her, though I did not yet trust to my +feelings. + +'After that evening when I first spoke to her our relations changed. +Before that she had been to me an extraneous but majestic object of +external nature: but since then she has become a human being. I began +to meet her, to talk to her, and sometimes to go to work for her father +and to spend whole evenings with them, and in this intimate intercourse +she remained still in my eyes just as pure, inaccessible, and majestic. +She always responded with equal calm, pride, and cheerful equanimity. +Sometimes she was friendly, but generally her every look, every word, +and every movement expressed equanimity--not contemptuous, but crushing +and bewitching. Every day with a feigned smile on my lips I tried to +play a part, and with torments of passion and desire in my heart I +spoke banteringly to her. She saw that I was dissembling, but looked +straight at me cheerfully and simply. This position became unbearable. +I wished not to deceive her but to tell her all I thought and felt. I +was extremely agitated. We were in the vineyard when I began to tell +her of my love, in words I am now ashamed to remember. I am ashamed +because I ought not to have dared to speak so to her because she stood +far above such words and above the feeling they were meant to express. +I said no more, but from that day my position has been intolerable. I +did not wish to demean myself by continuing our former flippant +relations, and at the same time I felt that I had not yet reached the +level of straight and simple relations with her. I asked myself +despairingly, "What am I to do?" In foolish dreams I imagined her now +as my mistress and now as my wife, but rejected both ideas with +disgust. To make her a wanton woman would be dreadful. It would be +murder. To turn her into a fine lady, the wife of Dmitri Andreich +Olenin, like a Cossack woman here who is married to one of our +officers, would be still worse. Now could I turn Cossack like Lukashka, +and steal horses, get drunk on chikhir, sing rollicking songs, kill +people, and when drunk climb in at her window for the night without a +thought of who and what I am, it would be different: then we might +understand one another and I might be happy. + +'I tried to throw myself into that kind of life but was still more +conscious of my own weakness and artificiality. I cannot forget myself +and my complex, distorted past, and my future appears to me still more +hopeless. Every day I have before me the distant snowy mountains and +this majestic, happy woman. But not for me is the only happiness +possible in the world; I cannot have this woman! What is most terrible +and yet sweetest in my condition is that I feel that I understand her +but that she will never understand me; not because she is inferior: on +the contrary she ought not to understand me. She is happy, she is like +nature: consistent, calm, and self-contained; and I, a weak distorted +being, want her to understand my deformity and my torments! I have not +slept at night, but have aimlessly passed under her windows not +rendering account to myself of what was happening to me. On the 18th +our company started on a raid, and I spent three days away from the +village. I was sad and apathetic, the usual songs, cards, +drinking-bouts, and talk of rewards in the regiment, were more +repulsive to me than usual. Yesterday I returned home and saw her, my +hut. Daddy Eroshka, and the snowy mountains, from my porch, and was +seized by such a strong, new feeling of joy that I understood it all. I +love this woman; I feel real love for the first and only time in my +life. I know what has befallen me. I do not fear to be degraded by this +feeling, I am not ashamed of my love, I am proud of it. It is not my +fault that I love. It has come about against my will. I tried to escape +from my love by self-renunciation, and tried to devise a joy in the +Cossack Lukashka's and Maryanka's love, but thereby only stirred up my +own love and jealousy. This is not the ideal, the so-called exalted +love which I have known before; not that sort of attachment in which +you admire your own love and feel that the source of your emotion is +within yourself and do everything yourself. I have felt that too. It is +still less a desire for enjoyment: it is something different. Perhaps +in her I love nature: the personification of all that is beautiful in +nature; but yet I am not acting by my own will, but some elemental +force loves through me; the whole of God's world, all nature, presses +this love into my soul and says, "Love her." I love her not with my +mind or my imagination, but with my whole being. Loving her I feel +myself to be an integral part of all God's joyous world. I wrote before +about the new convictions to which my solitary life had brought me, but +no one knows with what labour they shaped themselves within me and with +what joy I realized them and saw a new way of life opening out before +me; nothing was dearer to me than those convictions... Well! ... love +has come and neither they nor any regrets for them remain! It is even +difficult for me to believe that I could prize such a one-sided, cold, +and abstract state of mind. Beauty came and scattered to the winds all +that laborious inward toil, and no regret remains for what has +vanished! Self-renunciation is all nonsense and absurdity! That is +pride, a refuge from well-merited unhappiness, and salvation from the +envy of others' happiness: "Live for others, and do good!"--Why? when +in my soul there is only love for myself and the desire to love her and +to live her life with her? Not for others, not for Lukashka, I now +desire happiness. I do not now love those others. Formerly I should +have told myself that this is wrong. I should have tormented myself +with the questions: What will become of her, of me, and of Lukashka? +Now I don't care. I do not live my own life, there is something +stronger than me which directs me. I suffer; but formerly I was dead +and only now do I live. Today I will go to their house and tell her +everything.' + + + + +Chapter XXXIV + + +Late that evening, after writing this letter, Olenin went to his hosts' +hut. The old woman was sitting on a bench behind the oven unwinding +cocoons. Maryanka with her head uncovered sat sewing by the light of a +candle. On seeing Olenin she jumped up, took her kerchief and stepped +to the oven. 'Maryanka dear,' said her mother, 'won't you sit here with +me a bit?' 'No, I'm bareheaded,' she replied, and sprang up on the +oven. Olenin could only see a knee, and one of her shapely legs hanging +down from the oven. He treated the old woman to tea. She treated her +guest to clotted cream which she sent Maryanka to fetch. But having put +a plateful on the table Maryanka again sprang on the oven from whence +Olenin felt her eyes upon him. They talked about household matters. +Granny Ulitka became animated and went into raptures of hospitality. +She brought Olenin preserved grapes and a grape tart and some of her +best wine, and pressed him to eat and drink with the rough yet proud +hospitality of country folk, only found among those who produce their +bread by the labour of their own hands. The old woman, who had at first +struck Olenin so much by her rudeness, now often touched him by her +simple tenderness towards her daughter. + +'Yes, we need not offend the Lord by grumbling! We have enough of +everything, thank God. We have pressed sufficient CHIKHIR and have +preserved and shall sell three or four barrels of grapes and have +enough left to drink. Don't be in a hurry to leave us. We will make +merry together at the wedding.' + +'And when is the wedding to be?' asked Olenin, feeling his blood +suddenly rush to his face while his heart beat irregularly and +painfully. + +He heard a movement on the oven and the sound of seeds being cracked. + +'Well, you know, it ought to be next week. We are quite ready,' replied +the old woman, as simply and quietly as though Olenin did not exist. 'I +have prepared and have procured everything for Maryanka. We will give +her away properly. Only there's one thing not quite right. Our Lukashka +has been running rather wild. He has been too much on the spree! He's +up to tricks! The other day a Cossack came here from his company and +said he had been to Nogay.' + +'He must mind he does not get caught,' said Olenin. + +'Yes, that's what I tell him. "Mind, Lukashka, don't you get into +mischief. Well, of course, a young fellow naturally wants to cut a +dash. But there's a time for everything. Well, you've captured or +stolen something and killed an abrek! Well, you're a fine fellow! But +now you should live quietly for a bit, or else there'll be trouble."' + +'Yes, I saw him a time or two in the division, he was always +merry-making. He has sold another horse,' said Olenin, and glanced +towards the oven. A pair of large, dark, and hostile eyes glittered as +they gazed severely at him. + +He became ashamed of what he had said. 'What of it? He does no one any +harm,' suddenly remarked Maryanka. 'He makes merry with his own money,' +and lowering her legs she jumped down from the oven and went out +banging the door. + +Olenin followed her with his eyes as long as she was in the hut, and +then looked at the door and waited, understanding nothing of what +Granny Ulitka was telling him. + +A few minutes later some visitors arrived: an old man, Granny Ulitka's +brother, with Daddy Eroshka, and following them came Maryanka and +Ustenka. + +'Good evening,' squeaked Ustenka. 'Still on holiday?' she added, +turning to Olenin. + +'Yes, still on holiday,' he replied, and felt, he did not know why, +ashamed and ill at ease. + +He wished to go away but could not. It also seemed to him impossible to +remain silent. The old man helped him by asking for a drink, and they +had a drink. Olenin drank with Eroshka, with the other Cossack, and +again with Eroshka, and the more he drank the heavier was his heart. +But the two old men grew merry. The girls climbed onto the oven, where +they sat whispering and looking at the men, who drank till it was late. +Olenin did not talk, but drank more than the others. The Cossacks were +shouting. The old woman would not let them have any more chikhir, and +at last turned them out. The girls laughed at Daddy Eroshka, and it was +past ten when they all went out into the porch. The old men invited +themselves to finish their merry-making at Olenin's. Ustenka ran off +home and Eroshka led the old Cossack to Vanyusha. The old woman went +out to tidy up the shed. Maryanka remained alone in the hut. Olenin +felt fresh and joyous, as if he had only just woke up. He noticed +everything, and having let the old men pass ahead he turned back to the +hut where Maryanka was preparing for bed. He went up to her and wished +to say something, but his voice broke. She moved away from him, sat +down cross-legged on her bed in the corner, and looked at him silently +with wild and frightened eyes. She was evidently afraid of him. Olenin +felt this. He felt sorry and ashamed of himself, and at the same time +proud and pleased that he aroused even that feeling in her. + +'Maryanka!' he said. 'Will you never take pity on me? I can't tell you +how I love you.' + +She moved still farther away. + +'Just hear how the wine is speaking! ... You'll get nothing from me!' + +'No, it is not the wine. Don't marry Lukashka. I will marry you.' +('What am I saying,' he thought as he uttered these words. 'Shall I be +able to say the same to-morrow?' 'Yes, I shall, I am sure I shall, and +I will repeat them now,' replied an inner voice.) + +'Will you marry me?' + +She looked at him seriously and her fear seemed to have passed. + +'Maryanka, I shall go out of my mind! I am not myself. I will do +whatever you command,' and madly tender words came from his lips of +their own accord. + +'Now then, what are you drivelling about?' she interrupted, suddenly +seizing the arm he was stretching towards her. She did not push his arm +away but pressed it firmly with her strong hard fingers. 'Do gentlemen +marry Cossack girls? Go away!' + +'But will you? Everything...' + +'And what shall we do with Lukashka?' said she, laughing. + +He snatched away the arm she was holding and firmly embraced her young +body, but she sprang away like a fawn and ran barefoot into the porch: +Olenin came to his senses and was terrified at himself. He again felt +himself inexpressibly vile compared to her, yet not repenting for an +instant of what he had said he went home, and without even glancing at +the old men who were drinking in his room he lay down and fell asleep +more soundly than he had done for a long time. + + + + +Chapter XXXV + + +The next day was a holiday. In the evening all the villagers, their +holiday clothes shining in the sunset, were out in the street. That +season more wine than usual had been produced, and the people were now +free from their labours. In a month the Cossacks were to start on a +campaign and in many families preparations were being made for weddings. + +Most of the people were standing in the square in front of the Cossack +Government Office and near the two shops, in one of which cakes and +pumpkin seeds were sold, in the other kerchiefs and cotton prints. On +the earth-embankment of the office-building sat or stood the old men in +sober grey, or black coats without gold trimmings or any kind of +ornament. They conversed among themselves quietly in measured tones, +about the harvest, about the young folk, about village affairs, and +about old times, looking with dignified equanimity at the younger +generation. Passing by them, the women and girls stopped and bent their +heads. The young Cossacks respectfully slackened their pace and raised +their caps, holding them for a while over their heads. The old men then +stopped speaking. Some of them watched the passers-by severely, others +kindly, and in their turn slowly took off their caps and put them on +again. + +The Cossack girls had not yet started dancing their khorovods, but +having gathered in groups, in their bright coloured beshmets with white +kerchiefs on their heads pulled down to their eyes, they sat either on +the ground or on the earth-banks about the huts sheltered from the +oblique rays of the sun, and laughed and chattered in their ringing +voices. Little boys and girls playing in the square sent their balls +high up into the clear sky, and ran about squealing and shouting. The +half-grown girls had started dancing their khorovods, and were timidly +singing in their thin shrill voices. Clerks, lads not in the service, +or home for the holiday, bright-faced and wearing smart white or new +red Circassian gold-trimmed coats, went about arm in arm in twos or +threes from one group of women or girls to another, and stopped to joke +and chat with the Cossack girls. The Armenian shopkeeper, in a +gold-trimmed coat of fine blue cloth, stood at the open door through +which piles of folded bright-coloured kerchiefs were visible and, +conscious of his own importance and with the pride of an Oriental +tradesman, waited for customers. Two red-bearded, barefooted Chechens, +who had come from beyond the Terek to see the fete, sat on their heels +outside the house of a friend, negligently smoking their little pipes +and occasionally spitting, watching the villagers and exchanging +remarks with one another in their rapid guttural speech. Occasionally a +workaday-looking soldier in an old overcoat passed across the square +among the bright-clad girls. Here and there the songs of tipsy Cossacks +who were merry-making could already be heard. All the huts were closed; +the porches had been scrubbed clean the day before. Even the old women +were out in the street, which was everywhere sprinkled with pumpkin and +melon seed-shells. The air was warm and still, the sky deep and clear. +Beyond the roofs the dead-white mountain range, which seemed very near, +was turning rosy in the glow of the evening sun. Now and then from the +other side of the river came the distant roar of a cannon, but above +the village, mingling with one another, floated all sorts of merry +holiday sounds. + +Olenin had been pacing the yard all that morning hoping to see +Maryanka. But she, having put on holiday clothes, went to Mass at the +chapel and afterwards sat with the other girls on an earth-embankment +cracking seeds; sometimes again, together with her companions, she ran +home, and each time gave the lodger a bright and kindly look. Olenin +felt afraid to address her playfully or in the presence of others. He +wished to finish telling her what he had begun to say the night before, +and to get her to give him a definite answer. He waited for another +moment like that of yesterday evening, but the moment did not come, and +he felt that he could not remain any longer in this uncertainty. She +went out into the street again, and after waiting awhile he too went +out and without knowing where he was going he followed her. He passed +by the corner where she was sitting in her shining blue satin beshmet, +and with an aching heart he heard behind him the girls laughing. + +Beletski's hut looked out onto the square. As Olenin was passing it he +heard Beletski's voice calling to him, 'Come in,' and in he went. + +After a short talk they both sat down by the window and were soon +joined by Eroshka, who entered dressed in a new beshmet and sat down on +the floor beside them. + +'There, that's the aristocratic party,' said Beletski, pointing with +his cigarette to a brightly coloured group at the corner. 'Mine is +there too. Do you see her? in red. That's a new beshmet. Why don't you +start the khorovod?' he shouted, leaning out of the window. 'Wait a +bit, and then when it grows dark let us go too. Then we will invite +them to Ustenka's. We must arrange a ball for them!' + +'And I will come to Ustenka's,' said Olenin in a decided tone. 'Will +Maryanka be there?' + +'Yes, she'll be there. Do come!' said Beletski, without the least +surprise. 'But isn't it a pretty picture?' he added, pointing to the +motley crowds. + +'Yes, very!' Olenin assented, trying to appear indifferent. + +'Holidays of this kind,' he added, 'always make me wonder why all these +people should suddenly be contented and jolly. To-day for instance, +just because it happens to be the fifteenth of the month, everything is +festive. Eyes and faces and voices and movements and garments, and the +air and the sun, are all in a holiday mood. And we no longer have any +holidays!' + +'Yes,' said Beletski, who did not like such reflections. + +'And why are you not drinking, old fellow?' he said, turning to Eroshka. + +Eroshka winked at Olenin, pointing to Beletski. 'Eh, he's a proud one +that kunak of yours,' he said. + +Beletski raised his glass. ALLAH BIRDY' he said, emptying it. (ALLAH +BIRDY, 'God has given!'--the usual greeting of Caucasians when drinking +together.) + +'Sau bul' ('Your health'), answered Eroshka smiling, and emptied his +glass. + +'Speaking of holidays!' he said, turning to Olenin as he rose and +looked out of the window, 'What sort of holiday is that! You should +have seen them make merry in the old days! The women used to come out +in their gold--trimmed sarafans. Two rows of gold coins hanging round +their necks and gold-cloth diadems on their heads, and when they passed +they made a noise, "flu, flu," with their dresses. Every woman looked +like a princess. Sometimes they'd come out, a whole herd of them, and +begin singing songs so that the air seemed to rumble, and they went on +making merry all night. And the Cossacks would roll out a barrel into +the yards and sit down and drink till break of day, or they would go +hand-in-hand sweeping the village. Whoever they met they seized and +took along with them, and went from house to house. Sometimes they used +to make merry for three days on end. Father used to come home--I still +remember it--quite red and swollen, without a cap, having lost +everything: he'd come and lie down. Mother knew what to do: she would +bring him some fresh caviar and a little chikhir to sober him up, and +would herself run about in the village looking for his cap. Then he'd +sleep for two days! That's the sort of fellows they were then! But now +what are they?' + +'Well, and the girls in the sarafans, did they make merry all by +themselves?' asked Beletski. + +'Yes, they did! Sometimes Cossacks would come on foot or on horse and +say, "Let's break up the khorovods," and they'd go, but the girls would +take up cudgels. Carnival week, some young fellow would come galloping +up, and they'd cudgel his horse and cudgel him too. But he'd break +through, seize the one he loved, and carry her off. And his sweetheart +would love him to his heart's content! Yes, the girls in those days, +they were regular queens!' + + + + +Chapter XXXVI + + +Just then two men rode out of the side street into the square. One of +them was Nazarka. The other, Lukashka, sat slightly sideways on his +well-fed bay Kabarda horse which stepped lightly over the hard road +jerking its beautiful head with its fine glossy mane. The well-adjusted +gun in its cover, the pistol at his back, and the cloak rolled up +behind his saddle showed that Lukashka had not come from a peaceful +place or from one near by. The smart way in which he sat a little +sideways on his horse, the careless motion with which he touched the +horse under its belly with his whip, and especially his half-closed +black eyes, glistening as he looked proudly around him, all expressed +the conscious strength and self-confidence of youth. 'Ever seen as fine +a lad?' his eyes, looking from side to side, seemed to say. The elegant +horse with its silver ornaments and trappings, the weapons, and the +handsome Cossack himself attracted the attention of everyone in the +square. Nazarka, lean and short, was much less well dressed. As he rode +past the old men, Lukashka paused and raised his curly white sheepskin +cap above his closely cropped black head. + +'Well, have you carried off many Nogay horses?' asked a lean old man +with a frowning, lowering look. + +'Have you counted them, Grandad, that you ask?' replied Lukashka, +turning away. + +'That's all very well, but you need not take my lad along with you,' +the old man muttered with a still darker frown. + +'Just see the old devil, he knows everything,' muttered Lukashka to +himself, and a worried expression came over his face; but then, +noticing a corner where a number of Cossack girls were standing, he +turned his horse towards them. + +'Good evening, girls!' he shouted in his powerful, resonant voice, +suddenly checking his horse. 'You've grown old without me, you +witches!' and he laughed. + +'Good evening, Lukashka! Good evening, laddie!' the merry voices +answered. 'Have you brought much money? Buy some sweets for the girls! +... Have you come for long? True enough, it's long since we saw you....' + +'Nazarka and I have just flown across to make a night of it,' replied +Lukashka, raising his whip and riding straight at the girls. + +'Why, Maryanka has quite forgotten you,' said Ustenka, nudging Maryanka +with her elbow and breaking into a shrill laugh. + +Maryanka moved away from the horse and throwing back her head calmly +looked at the Cossack with her large sparkling eyes. + +'True enough, you have not been home for a long time! Why are you +trampling us under your horse?' she remarked dryly, and turned away. + +Lukashka had appeared particularly merry. His face shone with audacity +and joy. Obviously staggered by Maryanka's cold reply he suddenly +knitted his brow. + +'Step up on my stirrup and I'll carry you away to the mountains. +Mammy!' he suddenly exclaimed, and as if to disperse his dark thoughts +he caracoled among the girls. Stooping down towards Maryanka, he said, +'I'll kiss, oh, how I'll kiss you! ...' + +Maryanka's eyes met his and she suddenly blushed and stepped back. + +'Oh, bother you! you'll crush my feet,' she said, and bending her head +looked at her well-shaped feet in their tightly fitting light blue +stockings with clocks and her new red slippers trimmed with narrow +silver braid. + +Lukashka turned towards Ustenka, and Maryanka sat down next to a woman +with a baby in her arms. The baby stretched his plump little hands +towards the girl and seized a necklace string that hung down onto her +blue beshmet. Maryanka bent towards the child and glanced at Lukashka +from the corner of her eyes. Lukashka just then was getting out from +under his coat, from the pocket of his black beshmet, a bundle of +sweetmeats and seeds. + +'There, I give them to all of you,' he said, handing the bundle to +Ustenka and smiling at Maryanka. + +A confused expression again appeared on the girl's face. It was as +though a mist gathered over her beautiful eyes. She drew her kerchief +down below her lips, and leaning her head over the fair-skinned face of +the baby that still held her by her coin necklace she suddenly began to +kiss it greedily. The baby pressed his little hands against the girl's +high breasts, and opening his toothless mouth screamed loudly. + +"You're smothering the boy!" said the little one's mother, taking him +away; and she unfastened her beshmet to give him the breast. "You'd +better have a chat with the young fellow." + +"I'll only go and put up my horse and then Nazarka and I will come +back; we'll make merry all night," said Lukashka, touching his horse +with his whip and riding away from the girls. + +Turning into a side street, he and Nazarka rode up to two huts that +stood side by side. + +"Here we are all right, old fellow! Be quick and come soon!" called +Lukashka to his comrade, dismounting in front of one of the huts; then +he carefully led his horse in at the gate of the wattle fence of his +own home. + +"How d'you do, Stepka?" he said to his dumb sister, who, smartly +dressed like the others, came in from the street to take his horse; and +he made signs to her to take the horse to the hay, but not to unsaddle +it. + +The dumb girl made her usual humming noise, smacked her lips as she +pointed to the horse and kissed it on the nose, as much as to say that +she loved it and that it was a fine horse. + +"How d'you do. Mother? How is it that you have not gone out yet?" +shouted Lukashka, holding his gun in place as he mounted the steps of +the porch. + +His old mother opened the door. + +"Dear me! I never expected, never thought, you'd come," said the old +woman. "Why, Kirka said you wouldn't be here." + +"Go and bring some chikhir, Mother. Nazarka is coming here and we will +celebrate the feast day." + +"Directly, Lukashka, directly!" answered the old woman. "Our women are +making merry. I expect our dumb one has gone too." + +She took her keys and hurriedly went to the outhouse. Nazarka, after +putting up his horse and taking the gun off his shoulder, returned to +Lukashka's house and went in. + + + + +Chapter XXXVII + + +'Your health!' said Lukashka, taking from his mother's hands a cup +filled to the brim with chikhir and carefully raising it to his bowed +head. + +'A bad business!' said Nazarka. 'You heard how Daddy Burlak said, "Have +you stolen many horses?" He seems to know!' + +'A regular wizard!' Lukashka replied shortly. 'But what of it!' he +added, tossing his head. 'They are across the river by now. Go and find +them!' + +'Still it's a bad lookout.' + +'What's a bad lookout? Go and take some chikhir to him to-morrow and +nothing will come of it. Now let's make merry. Drink!' shouted +Lukashka, just in the tone in which old Eroshka uttered the word. +'We'll go out into the street and make merry with the girls. You go and +get some honey; or no, I'll send our dumb wench. We'll make merry till +morning.' + +Nazarka smiled. + +'Are we stopping here long?' he asked. + +Till we've had a bit of fun. Run and get some vodka. Here's the money.' + +Nazarka ran off obediently to get the vodka from Yamka's. + +Daddy Eroshka and Ergushov, like birds of prey, scenting where the +merry-making was going on, tumbled into the hut one after the other, +both tipsy. + +'Bring us another half-pail,' shouted Lukashka to his mother, by way of +reply to their greeting. + +'Now then, tell us where did you steal them, you devil?' shouted +Eroshka. 'Fine fellow, I'm fond of you!' + +'Fond indeed...' answered Lukashka laughing, 'carrying sweets from +cadets to lasses! Eh, you old...' + +'That's not true, not true! ... Oh, Mark,' and the old man burst out +laughing. 'And how that devil begged me. "Go," he said, "and arrange +it." He offered me a gun! But no. I'd have managed it, but I feel for +you. Now tell us where have you been?' And the old man began speaking +in Tartar. + +Lukashka answered him promptly. + +Ergushov, who did not know much Tartar, only occasionally put in a word +in Russian: 'What I say is he's driven away the horses. I know it for a +fact,' he chimed in. + +'Girey and I went together.' (His speaking of Girey Khan as 'Girey' +was, to the Cossack mind, evidence of his boldness.) 'Just beyond the +river he kept bragging that he knew the whole of the steppe and would +lead the way straight, but we rode on and the night was dark, and my +Girey lost his way and began wandering in a circle without getting +anywhere: couldn't find the village, and there we were. We must have +gone too much to the right. I believe we wandered about well--nigh till +midnight. Then, thank goodness, we heard dogs howling.' + +'Fools!' said Daddy Eroshka. 'There now, we too used to lose our way in +the steppe. (Who the devil can follow it?) But I used to ride up a +hillock and start howling like the wolves, like this!' He placed his +hands before his mouth, and howled like a pack of wolves, all on one +note. 'The dogs would answer at once ... Well, go on--so you found +them?' + +'We soon led them away! Nazarka was nearly caught by some Nogay women, +he was!' + +'Caught indeed,' Nazarka, who had just come back, said in an injured +tone. + +'We rode off again, and again Girey lost his way and almost landed us +among the sand-drifts. We thought we were just getting to the Terek but +we were riding away from it all the time!' + +'You should have steered by the stars,' said Daddy Eroshka. + +'That's what I say,' interjected Ergushov, + +'Yes, steer when all is black; I tried and tried all about... and at +last I put the bridle on one of the mares and let my own horse go +free--thinking he'll lead us out, and what do you think! he just gave a +snort or two with his nose to the ground, galloped ahead, and led us +straight to our village. Thank goodness! It was getting quite light. We +barely had time to hide them in the forest. Nagim came across the river +and took them away.' + +Ergushov shook his head. 'It's just what I said. Smart. Did you get +much for them?' + +'It's all here,' said Lukashka, slapping his pocket. + +Just then his mother came into the room, and Lukashka did not finish +what he was saying. + +'Drink!' he shouted. + +'We too, Girich and I, rode out late one night...' began Eroshka. + +'Oh bother, we'll never hear the end of you!' said Lukashka. 'I am +going.' And having emptied his cup and tightened the strap of his belt +he went out. + + + + +Chapter XXXVIII + + +It was already dark when Lukashka went out into the street. The autumn +night was fresh and calm. The full golden moon floated up behind the +tall dark poplars that grew on one side of the square. From the +chimneys of the outhouses smoke rose and spread above the village, +mingling with the mist. Here and there lights shone through the +windows, and the air was laden with the smell of kisyak, grape-pulp, +and mist. The sounds of voices, laughter, songs, and the cracking of +seeds mingled just as they had done in the daytime, but were now more +distinct. Clusters of white kerchiefs and caps gleamed through the +darkness near the houses and by the fences. + +In the square, before the shop door which was lit up and open, the +black and white figures of Cossack men and maids showed through the +darkness, and one heard from afar their loud songs and laughter and +talk. The girls, hand in hand, went round and round in a circle +stepping lightly in the dusty square. A skinny girl, the plainest of +them all, set the tune: + + 'From beyond the wood, from the forest dark, + From the garden green and the shady park, + There came out one day two young lads so gay. + Young bachelors, hey! brave and smart were they! + And they walked and walked, then stood still, each man, + And they talked and soon to dispute began! + Then a maid came out; as she came along, + Said, "To one of you I shall soon belong!" + 'Twas the fair-faced lad got the maiden fair, + Yes, the fair-faced lad with the golden hair! + Her right hand so white in his own took he, + And he led her round for his mates to see! + And said, "Have you ever in all your life, + Met a lass as fair as my sweet little wife?"' + +The old women stood round listening to the songs. The little boys and +girls ran about chasing one another in the dark. The men stood by, +catching at the girls as the latter moved round, and sometimes breaking +the ring and entering it. On the dark side of the doorway stood +Beletski and Olenin, in their Circassian coats and sheepskin caps, and +talked together in a style of speech unlike that of the Cossacks, in +low but distinct tones, conscious that they were attracting attention. +Next to one another in the khorovod circle moved plump little Ustenka +in her red beshmet and the stately Maryanka in her new smock and +beshmet. Olenin and Beletski were discussing how to snatch Ustenka and +Maryanka out of the ring. Beletski thought that Olenin wished only to +amuse himself, but Olenin was expecting his fate to be decided. He +wanted at any cost to see Maryanka alone that very day and to tell her +everything, and ask her whether she could and would be his wife. +Although that question had long been answered in the negative in his +own mind, he hoped he would be able to tell her all he felt, and that +she would understand him. + +'Why did you not tell me sooner?' said Beletski. 'I would have got +Ustenka to arrange it for you. You are such a queer fellow! ...' + +'What's to be done! ... Some day, very soon, I'll tell you all about +it. Only now, for Heaven's sake, arrange so that she should come to +Ustenka's.' + +'All right, that's easily done! Well, Maryanka, will you belong to the +"fair-faced lad", and not to Lukashka?' said Beletski, speaking to +Maryanka first for propriety's sake, but having received no reply he +went up to Ustenka and begged her to bring Maryanka home with her. He +had hardly time to finish what he was saying before the leader began +another song and the girls started pulling each other round in the ring +by the hand. + +They sang: + + "Past the garden, by the garden, + A young man came strolling down, + Up the street and through the town. + And the first time as he passed + He did wave his strong right hand. + As the second time he passed + Waved his hat with silken band. + But the third time as he went + He stood still: before her bent. + + "How is it that thou, my dear, + My reproaches dost not fear? + In the park don't come to walk + That we there might have a talk? + Come now, answer me, my dear, + Dost thou hold me in contempt? + Later on, thou knowest, dear, + Thou'lt get sober and repent. + Soon to woo thee I will come, + And when we shall married be + Thou wilt weep because of me!" + + "Though I knew what to reply, + Yet I dared not him deny, + No, I dared not him deny! + So into the park went I, + In the park my lad to meet, + There my dear one I did greet." + + "Maiden dear, I bow to thee! + Take this handkerchief from me. + In thy white hand take it, see! + Say I am beloved by thee. + I don't know at all, I fear, + What I am to give thee, dear! + To my dear I think I will + Of a shawl a present make-- + And five kisses for it take."' + +Lukashka and Nazarka broke into the ring and started walking about +among the girls. Lukashka joined in the singing, taking seconds in his +clear voice as he walked in the middle of the ring swinging his arms. +'Well, come in, one of you!' he said. The other girls pushed Maryanka, +but she would not enter the ring. The sound of shrill laughter, slaps, +kisses, and whispers mingled with the singing. + +As he went past Olenin, Lukashka gave a friendly nod. + +'Dmitri Andreich! Have you too come to have a look?' he said. + +'Yes,' answered Olenin dryly. + +Beletski stooped and whispered something into Ustenka's ear. She had +not time to reply till she came round again, when she said: + +'All right, we'll come.' + +'And Maryanka too?' + +Olenin stooped towards Maryanka. 'You'll come? Please do, if only for a +minute. I must speak to you.' + +'If the other girls come, I will.' + +'Will you answer my question?' said he, bending towards her. 'You are +in good spirits to-day.' + +She had already moved past him. He went after her. + +'Will you answer?' + +'Answer what?' + +'The question I asked you the other day,' said Olenin, stooping to her +ear. 'Will you marry me?' + +Maryanka thought for a moment. + +'I'll tell you,' said she, 'I'll tell you to-night.' + +And through the darkness her eyes gleamed brightly and kindly at the +young man. + +He still followed her. He enjoyed stooping closer to her. But Lukashka, +without ceasing to sing, suddenly seized her firmly by the hand and +pulled her from her place in the ring of girls into the middle. Olenin +had only time to say, "Come to Ustenka's," and stepped back to his +companion. + +The song came to an end. Lukashka wiped his lips, Maryanka did the +same, and they kissed. "No, no, kisses five!" said Lukashka. Chatter, +laughter, and running about, succeeded to the rhythmic movements and +sound. Lukashka, who seemed to have drunk a great deal, began to +distribute sweetmeats to the girls. + +"I offer them to everyone!" he said with proud, comically pathetic +self-admiration. "But anyone who goes after soldiers goes out of the +ring!" he suddenly added, with an angry glance at Olenin. + +The girls grabbed his sweetmeats from him, and, laughing, struggled for +them among themselves. Beletski and Olenin stepped aside. + +Lukashka, as if ashamed of his generosity, took off his cap and wiping +his forehead with his sleeve came up to Maryanka and Ustenka. + +"Answer me, my dear, dost thou hold me in contempt?" he said in the +words of the song they had just been singing, and turning to Maryanka +he angrily repeated the words: "Dost thou hold me in contempt? When we +shall married be thou wilt weep because of me!" he added, embracing +Ustenka and Maryanka both together. + +Ustenka tore herself away, and swinging her arm gave him such a blow on +the back that she hurt her hand. + +"Well, are you going to have another turn?" he asked. + +"The other girls may if they like," answered Ustenka, "but I am going +home and Maryanka was coming to our house too." + +With his arm still round her, Lukashka led Maryanka away from the crowd +to the darker corner of a house. + +"Don't go, Maryanka," he said, "let's have some fun for the last time. +Go home and I will come to you!" + +"What am I to do at home? Holidays are meant for merrymaking. I am +going to Ustenka's," replied Maryanka. + +'I'll marry you all the same, you know!' + +'All right,' said Maryanka, 'we shall see when the time comes.' + +'So you are going,' said Lukashka sternly, and, pressing her close, he +kissed her on the cheek. + +'There, leave off! Don't bother,' and Maryanka, wrenching herself from +his arms, moved away. + +'Ah my girl, it will turn out badly,' said Lukashka reproachfully and +stood still, shaking his head. 'Thou wilt weep because of me...' and +turning away from her he shouted to the other girls: + +'Now then! Play away!' + +What he had said seemed to have frightened and vexed Maryanka. She +stopped, 'What will turn out badly?' + +'Why, that!' + +'That what?' + +'Why, that you keep company with a soldier-lodger and no longer care +for me!' + +'I'll care just as long as I choose. You're not my father, nor my +mother. What do you want? I'll care for whom I like!' + +'Well, all right...' said Lukashka, 'but remember!' He moved towards +the shop. 'Girls!' he shouted, 'why have you stopped? Go on dancing. +Nazarka, fetch some more chikhir.' + +'Well, will they come?' asked Olenin, addressing Beletski. + +'They'll come directly,' replied Beletski. 'Come along, we must prepare +the ball.' + + + + +Chapter XXXIX + + +It was already late in the night when Olenin came out of Beletski's hut +following Maryanka and Ustenka. He saw in the dark street before him +the gleam of the girl's white kerchief. The golden moon was descending +towards the steppe. A silvery mist hung over the village. All was +still; there were no lights anywhere and one heard only the receding +footsteps of the young women. Olenin's heart beat fast. The fresh moist +atmosphere cooled his burning face. He glanced at the sky and turned to +look at the hut he had just come out of: the candle was already out. +Then he again peered through the darkness at the girls' retreating +shadows. The white kerchief disappeared in the mist. He was afraid to +remain alone, he was so happy. He jumped down from the porch and ran +after the girls. + +'Bother you, someone may see...' said Ustenka. + +'Never mind!' + +Olenin ran up to Maryanka and embraced her. + +Maryanka did not resist. + +'Haven't you kissed enough yet?' said Ustenka. 'Marry and then kiss, +but now you'd better wait.' + +'Good-night, Maryanka. To-morrow I will come to see your father and +tell him. Don't you say anything.' + +'Why should I!' answered Maryanka. + +Both the girls started running. Olenin went on by himself thinking over +all that had happened. He had spent the whole evening alone with her in +a corner by the oven. Ustenka had not left the hut for a single moment, +but had romped about with the other girls and with Beletski all the +time. Olenin had talked in whispers to Maryanka. + +'Will you marry me?' he had asked. + +'You'd deceive me and not have me,' she replied cheerfully and calmly. + +'But do you love me? Tell me for God's sake!' + +'Why shouldn't I love you? You don't squint,' answered Maryanka, +laughing and with her hard hands squeezing his.... + +'What whi-ite, whi-i-ite, soft hands you've got--so like clotted +cream,' she said. + +'I am in earnest. Tell me, will you marry me?' + +'Why not, if father gives me to you?' + +'Well then remember, I shall go mad if you deceive me. To-morrow I will +tell your mother and father. I shall come and propose.' + +Maryanka suddenly burst out laughing. + +'What's the matter?' + +'It seems so funny!' + +'It's true! I will buy a vineyard and a house and will enroll myself as +a Cossack.' + +'Mind you don't go after other women then. I am severe about that.' + +Olenin joyfully repeated all these words to himself. The memory of them +now gave him pain and now such joy that it took away his breath. The +pain was because she had remained as calm as usual while talking to +him. She did not seem at all agitated by these new conditions. It was +as if she did not trust him and did not think of the future. It seemed +to him that she only loved him for the present moment, and that in her +mind there was no future with him. He was happy because her words +sounded to him true, and she had consented to be his. 'Yes,' thought he +to himself, 'we shall only understand one another when she is quite +mine. For such love there are no words. It needs life--the whole of +life. To-morrow everything will be cleared up. I cannot live like this +any longer; to-morrow I will tell everything to her father, to +Beletski, and to the whole village.' + +Lukashka, after two sleepless nights, had drunk so much at the fete +that for the first time in his life his feet would not carry him, and +he slept in Yamka's house. + + + + +Chapter XL + + +The next day Olenin awoke earlier than usual, and immediately +remembered what lay before him, and he joyfully recalled her kisses, +the pressure of her hard hands, and her words, 'What white hands you +have!' He jumped up and wished to go at once to his hosts' hut to ask +for their consent to his marriage with Maryanka. The sun had not yet +risen, but it seemed that there was an unusual bustle in the street and +side-street: people were moving about on foot and on horseback, and +talking. He threw on his Circassian coat and hastened out into the +porch. His hosts were not yet up. Five Cossacks were riding past and +talking loudly together. In front rode Lukashka on his broad-backed +Kabarda horse. + +The Cossacks were all speaking and shouting so that it was impossible +to make out exactly what they were saying. + +'Ride to the Upper Post,' shouted one. + +'Saddle and catch us up, be quick,' said another. + +'It's nearer through the other gate!' + +'What are you talking about?' cried Lukashka. 'We must go through the +middle gates, of course.' + +'So we must, it's nearer that way,' said one of the Cossacks who was +covered with dust and rode a perspiring horse. Lukashka's face was red +and swollen after the drinking of the previous night and his cap was +pushed to the back of his head. He was calling out with authority as +though he were an officer. + +'What is the matter? Where are you going?' asked Olenin, with +difficulty attracting the Cossacks' attention. + +'We are off to catch abreks. They're hiding among the sand-drifts. We +are just off, but there are not enough of us yet.' + +And the Cossacks continued to shout, more and more of them joining as +they rode down the street. It occurred to Olenin that it would not look +well for him to stay behind; besides he thought he could soon come +back. He dressed, loaded his gun with bullets, jumped onto his horse +which Vanyusha had saddled more or less well, and overtook the Cossacks +at the village gates. The Cossacks had dismounted, and filling a wooden +bowl with chikhir from a little cask which they had brought with them, +they passed the bowl round to one another and drank to the success of +their expedition. Among them was a smartly dressed young cornet, who +happened to be in the village and who took command of the group of nine +Cossacks who had joined for the expedition. All these Cossacks were +privates, and although the cornet assumed the airs of a commanding +officer, they only obeyed Lukashka. Of Olenin they took no notice at +all, and when they had all mounted and started, and Olenin rode up to +the cornet and began asking him what was taking place, the cornet, who +was usually quite friendly, treated him with marked condescension. It +was with great difficulty that Olenin managed to find out from him what +was happening. Scouts who had been sent out to search for abreks had +come upon several hillsmen some six miles from the village. These +abreks had taken shelter in pits and had fired at the scouts, declaring +they would not surrender. A corporal who had been scouting with two +Cossacks had remained to watch the abreks, and had sent one Cossack +back to get help. + +The sun was just rising. Three miles beyond the village the steppe +spread out and nothing was visible except the dry, monotonous, sandy, +dismal plain covered with the footmarks of cattle, and here and there +with tufts of withered grass, with low reeds in the flats, and rare, +little-trodden footpaths, and the camps of the nomad Nogay tribe just +visible far away. The absence of shade and the austere aspect of the +place were striking. The sun always rises and sets red in the steppe. +When it is windy whole hills of sand are carried by the wind from place +to place. + +When it is calm, as it was that morning, the silence, uninterrupted by +any movement or sound, is peculiarly striking. That morning in the +steppe it was quiet and dull, though the sun had already risen. It all +seemed specially soft and desolate. The air was hushed, the footfalls +and the snorting of the horses were the only sounds to be heard, and +even they quickly died away. + +The men rode almost silently. A Cossack always carries his weapons so +that they neither jingle nor rattle. Jingling weapons are a terrible +disgrace to a Cossack. Two other Cossacks from the village caught the +party up and exchanged a few words. Lukashka's horse either stumbled or +caught its foot in some grass, and became restive--which is a sign of +bad luck among the Cossacks, and at such a time was of special +importance. The others exchanged glances and turned away, trying not to +notice what had happened. Lukaskha pulled at the reins, frowned +sternly, set his teeth, and flourished his whip above his head. His +good Kabarda horse, prancing from one foot to another not knowing with +which to start, seemed to wish to fly upwards on wings. But Lukashka +hit its well-fed sides with his whip once, then again, and a third +time, and the horse, showing its teeth and spreading out its tail, +snorted and reared and stepped on its hind legs a few paces away from +the others. + +'Ah, a good steed that!' said the cornet. + +That he said steed instead of HORSE indicated special praise. + +'A lion of a horse,' assented one of the others, an old Cossack. + +The Cossacks rode forward silently, now at a footpace, then at a trot, +and these changes were the only incidents that interrupted for a moment +the stillness and solemnity of their movements. + +Riding through the steppe for about six miles, they passed nothing but +one Nogay tent, placed on a cart and moving slowly along at a distance +of about a mile from them. A Nogay family was moving from one part of +the steppe to another. Afterwards they met two tattered Nogay women +with high cheekbones, who with baskets on their backs were gathering +dung left by the cattle that wandered over the steppe. The cornet, who +did not know their language well, tried to question them, but they did +not understand him and, obviously frightened, looked at one another. + +Lukashka rode up to them both, stopped his horse, and promptly uttered +the usual greeting. The Nogay women were evidently relieved, and began +speaking to him quite freely as to a brother. + +'Ay--ay, kop abrek!' they said plaintively, pointing in the direction +in which the Cossacks were going. Olenin understood that they were +saying, 'Many abreks.' + +Never having seen an engagement of that kind, and having formed an idea +of them only from Daddy Eroshka's tales, Olenin wished not to be left +behind by the Cossacks, but wanted to see it all. He admired the +Cossacks, and was on the watch, looking and listening and making his +own observations. Though he had brought his sword and a loaded gun with +him, when he noticed that the Cossacks avoided him he decided to take +no part in the action, as in his opinion his courage had already been +sufficiently proved when he was with his detachment, and also because +he was very happy. + +Suddenly a shot was heard in the distance. + +The cornet became excited, and began giving orders to the Cossacks as +to how they should divide and from which side they should approach. But +the Cossacks did not appear to pay any attention to these orders, +listening only to what Lukashka said and looking to him alone. +Lukashka's face and figure were expressive of calm solemnity. He put +his horse to a trot with which the others were unable to keep pace, and +screwing up his eyes kept looking ahead. + +'There's a man on horseback,' he said, reining in his horse and keeping +in line with the others. + +Olenin looked intently, but could not see anything. The Cossacks soon +distinguished two riders and quietly rode straight towards them. + +'Are those the ABREKS?' asked Olenin. + +The Cossacks did not answer his question, which appeared quite +meaningless to them. The ABREKS would have been fools to venture across +the river on horseback. + +'That's friend Rodka waving to us, I do believe,' said Lukashka, +pointing to the two mounted men who were now clearly visible. 'Look, +he's coming to us.' + +A few minutes later it became plain that the two horsemen were the +Cossack scouts. The corporal rode up to Lukashka. + + + + +Chapter XLI + + +'Are they far?' was all Lukashka said. + +Just then they heard a sharp shot some thirty paces off. The corporal +smiled slightly. + +'Our Gurka is having shots at them,' he said, nodding in the direction +of the shot. + +Having gone a few paces farther they saw Gurka sitting behind a +sand-hillock and loading his gun. To while away the time he was +exchanging shots with the ABREKS, who were behind another sand-heap. A +bullet came whistling from their side. + +The cornet was pale and grew confused. Lukashka dismounted from his +horse, threw the reins to one of the other Cossacks, and went up to +Gurka. Olenin also dismounted and, bending down, followed Lukashka. +They had hardly reached Gurka when two bullets whistled above them. + +Lukashka looked around laughing at Olenin and stooped a little. + +'Look out or they will kill you, Dmitri Andreich,' he said. 'You'd +better go away--you have no business here.' But Olenin wanted +absolutely to see the ABREKS. + +From behind the mound he saw caps and muskets some two hundred paces +off. Suddenly a little cloud of smoke appeared from thence, and again a +bullet whistled past. The ABREKS were hiding in a marsh at the foot of +the hill. Olenin was much impressed by the place in which they sat. In +reality it was very much like the rest of the steppe, but because the +ABREKS sat there it seemed to detach itself from all the rest and to +have become distinguished. Indeed it appeared to Olenin that it was the +very spot for ABREKS to occupy. Lukashka went back to his horse and +Olenin followed him. + +'We must get a hay-cart,' said Lukashka, 'or they will be killing some +of us. There behind that mound is a Nogay cart with a load of hay.' + +The cornet listened to him and the corporal agreed. The cart of hay was +fetched, and the Cossacks, hiding behind it, pushed it forward. Olenin +rode up a hillock from whence he could see everything. The hay-cart +moved on and the Cossacks crowded together behind it. The Cossacks +advanced, but the Chechens, of whom there were nine, sat with their +knees in a row and did not fire. + +All was quiet. Suddenly from the Chechens arose the sound of a mournful +song, something like Daddy Eroshka's 'Ay day, dalalay.' The Chechens +knew that they could not escape, and to prevent themselves from being +tempted to take to flight they had strapped themselves together, knee +to knee, had got their guns ready, and were singing their death-song. + +The Cossacks with their hay-cart drew closer and closer, and Olenin +expected the firing to begin at any moment, but the silence was only +broken by the abreks' mournful song. Suddenly the song ceased; there +was a sharp report, a bullet struck the front of the cart, and Chechen +curses and yells broke the silence and shot followed on shot and one +bullet after another struck the cart. The Cossacks did not fire and +were now only five paces distant. + +Another moment passed and the Cossacks with a whoop rushed out on both +sides from behind the cart--Lukashka in front of them. Olenin heard +only a few shots, then shouting and moans. He thought he saw smoke and +blood, and abandoning his horse and quite beside himself he ran towards +the Cossacks. Horror seemed to blind him. He could not make out +anything, but understood that all was over. Lukashka, pale as death, +was holding a wounded Chechen by the arms and shouting, 'Don't kill +him. I'll take him alive!' The Chechen was the red-haired man who had +fetched his brother's body away after Lukashka had killed him. Lukashka +was twisting his arms. Suddenly the Chechen wrenched himself free and +fired his pistol. Lukashka fell, and blood began to flow from his +stomach. He jumped up, but fell again, swearing in Russian and in +Tartar. More and more blood appeared on his clothes and under him. Some +Cossacks approached him and began loosening his girdle. One of them, +Nazarka, before beginning to help, fumbled for some time, unable to put +his sword in its sheath: it would not go the right way. The blade of +the sword was blood-stained. + +The Chechens with their red hair and clipped moustaches lay dead and +hacked about. Only the one we know of, who had fired at Lukashka, +though wounded in many places was still alive. Like a wounded hawk all +covered with blood (blood was flowing from a wound under his right +eye), pale and gloomy, he looked about him with wide--open excited eyes +and clenched teeth as he crouched, dagger in hand, still prepared to +defend himself. The cornet went up to him as if intending to pass by, +and with a quick movement shot him in the ear. The Chechen started up, +but it was too late, and he fell. + +The Cossacks, quite out of breath, dragged the bodies aside and took +the weapons from them. Each of the red-haired Chechens had been a man, +and each one had his own individual expression. Lukashka was carried to +the cart. He continued to swear in Russian and in Tartar. + +'No fear, I'll strangle him with my hands. ANNA SENI!' he cried, +struggling. But he soon became quiet from weakness. + +Olenin rode home. In the evening he was told that Lukashka was at +death's door, but that a Tartar from beyond the river had undertaken to +cure him with herbs. + +The bodies were brought to the village office. The women and the little +boys hastened to look at them. + +It was growing dark when Olenin returned, and he could not collect +himself after what he had seen. But towards night memories of the +evening before came rushing to his mind. He looked out of the window, +Maryanka was passing to and fro from the house to the cowshed, putting +things straight. Her mother had gone to the vineyard and her father to +the office. Olenin could not wait till she had quite finished her work, +but went out to meet her. She was in the hut standing with her back +towards him. Olenin thought she felt shy. + +'Maryanka,' said he, 'I say, Maryanka! May I come in?' + +She suddenly turned. There was a scarcely perceptible trace of tears in +her eyes and her face was beautiful in its sadness. She looked at him +in silent dignity. + +Olenin again said: + +'Maryanka, I have come--' + +'Leave me alone!' she said. Her face did not change but the tears ran +down her cheeks. + +'What are you crying for? What is it?' + +'What?' she repeated in a rough voice. 'Cossacks have been killed, +that's what for.' + +'Lukashka?' said Olenin. + +'Go away! What do you want?' + +'Maryanka!' said Olenin, approaching her. + +'You will never get anything from me!' + +'Maryanka, don't speak like that,' Olenin entreated. + +'Get away. I'm sick of you!' shouted the girl, stamping her foot, and +moved threateningly towards him. And her face expressed such +abhorrence, such contempt, and such anger that Olenin suddenly +understood that there was no hope for him, and that his first +impression of this woman's inaccessibility had been perfectly correct. + +Olenin said nothing more, but ran out of the hut. + + + + +Chapter XLII + + +For two hours after returning home he lay on his bed motionless. Then +he went to his company commander and obtained leave to visit the staff. +Without taking leave of anyone, and sending Vanyusha to settle his +accounts with his landlord, he prepared to leave for the fort where his +regiment was stationed. Daddy Eroshka was the only one to see him off. +They had a drink, and then a second, and then yet another. Again as on +the night of his departure from Moscow, a three-horsed conveyance stood +waiting at the door. But Olenin did not confer with himself as he had +done then, and did not say to himself that all he had thought and done +here was 'not it'. He did not promise himself a new life. He loved +Maryanka more than ever, and knew that he could never be loved by her. + +'Well, good-bye, my lad!' said Daddy Eroshka. 'When you go on an +expedition, be wise and listen to my words--the words of an old man. +When you are out on a raid or the like (you know I'm an old wolf and +have seen things), and when they begin firing, don't get into a crowd +where there are many men. When you fellows get frightened you always +try to get close together with a lot of others. You think it is merrier +to be with others, but that's where it is worst of all! They always aim +at a crowd. Now I used to keep farther away from the others and went +alone, and I've never been wounded. Yet what things haven't I seen in +my day?' + +'But you've got a bullet in your back,' remarked Vanyusha, who was +clearing up the room. + +'That was the Cossacks fooling about,' answered Eroshka. + +'Cossacks? How was that?' asked Olenin. + +'Oh, just so. We were drinking. Vanka Sitkin, one of the Cossacks, got +merry, and puff! he gave me one from his pistol just here.' + +'Yes, and did it hurt?' asked Olenin. 'Vanyusha, will you soon be +ready?' he added. + +'Ah, where's the hurry! Let me tell you. When he banged into me, the +bullet did not break the bone but remained here. And I say: "You've +killed me, brother. Eh! What have you done to me? I won't let you off! +You'll have to stand me a pailful!"' + +'Well, but did it hurt?' Olenin asked again, scarcely listening to the +tale. + +'Let me finish. He stood a pailful, and we drank it, but the blood went +on flowing. The whole room was drenched and covered with blood. Grandad +Burlak, he says, "The lad will give up the ghost. Stand a bottle of the +sweet sort, or we shall have you taken up!" They bought more drink, and +boozed and boozed--' + +'Yes, but did it hurt you much?' Olenin asked once more. + +'Hurt, indeed! Don't interrupt: I don't like it. Let me finish. We +boozed and boozed till morning, and I fell asleep on the top of the +oven, drunk. When I woke in the morning I could not unbend myself +anyhow--' + +'Was it very painful?' repeated Olenin, thinking that now he would at +last get an answer to his question. + +'Did I tell you it was painful? I did not say it was painful, but I +could not bend and could not walk.' + +'And then it healed up?' said Olenin, not even laughing, so heavy was +his heart. + +'It healed up, but the bullet is still there. Just feel it!' And +lifting his shirt he showed his powerful back, where just near the bone +a bullet could be felt and rolled about. + +'Feel how it rolls,' he said, evidently amusing himself with the bullet +as with a toy. 'There now, it has rolled to the back.' + +'And Lukashka, will he recover?' asked Olenin. + +'Heaven only knows! There's no doctor. They've gone for one.' + +'Where will they get one? From Groznoe?' asked Olenin. 'No, my lad. +Were I the Tsar I'd have hung all your Russian doctors long ago. +Cutting is all they know! There's our Cossack Baklashka, no longer a +real man now that they've cut off his leg! That shows they're fools. +What's Baklashka good for now? No, my lad, in the mountains there are +real doctors. There was my chum, Vorchik, he was on an expedition and +was wounded just here in the chest. Well, your doctors gave him up, but +one of theirs came from the mountains and cured him! They understand +herbs, my lad!' + +'Come, stop talking rubbish,' said Olenin. 'I'd better send a doctor +from head-quarters.' + +'Rubbish!' the old man said mockingly. 'Fool, fool! Rubbish. You'll +send a doctor!--If yours cured people, Cossacks and Chechens would go +to you for treatment, but as it is your officers and colonels send to +the mountains for doctors. Yours are all humbugs, all humbugs.' + +Olenin did not answer. He agreed only too fully that all was humbug in +the world in which he had lived and to which he was now returning. + +'How is Lukashka? You've been to see him?' he asked. + +'He just lies as if he were dead. He does not eat nor drink. Vodka is +the only thing his soul accepts. But as long as he drinks vodka it's +well. I'd be sorry to lose the lad. A fine lad--a brave, like me. I too +lay dying like that once. The old women were already wailing. My head +was burning. They had already laid me out under the holy icons. So I +lay there, and above me on the oven little drummers, no bigger than +this, beat the tattoo. I shout at them and they drum all the harder.' +(The old man laughed.) 'The women brought our church elder. They were +getting ready to bury me. They said, "He defiled himself with worldly +unbelievers; he made merry with women; he ruined people; he did not +fast, and he played the balalayka. Confess," they said. So I began to +confess. "I've sinned!" I said. Whatever the priest said, I always +answered "I've sinned." He began to ask me about the balalayka. "Where +is the accursed thing," he says. "Show it me and smash it." But I say, +"I've not got it." I'd hidden it myself in a net in the outhouse. I +knew they could not find it. So they left me. Yet after all I +recovered. When I went for my BALALAYKA--What was I saying?' he +continued. 'Listen to me, and keep farther away from the other men or +you'll get killed foolishly. I feel for you, truly: you are a +drinker--I love you! And fellows like you like riding up the mounds. +There was one who lived here who had come from Russia, he always would +ride up the mounds (he called the mounds so funnily, "hillocks"). +Whenever he saw a mound, off he'd gallop. Once he galloped off that way +and rode to the top quite pleased, but a Chechen fired at him and +killed him! Ah, how well they shoot from their gun-rests, those +Chechens! Some of them shoot even better than I do. I don't like it +when a fellow gets killed so foolishly! Sometimes I used to look at +your soldiers and wonder at them. There's foolishness for you! They go, +the poor fellows, all in a clump, and even sew red collars to their +coats! How can they help being hit! One gets killed, they drag him away +and another takes his place! What foolishness!' the old man repeated, +shaking his head. 'Why not scatter, and go one by one? So you just go +like that and they won't notice you. That's what you must do.' + +'Well, thank you! Good-bye, Daddy. God willing we may meet again,' said +Olenin, getting up and moving towards the passage. + +The old man, who was sitting on the floor, did not rise. + +'Is that the way one says "Good-bye"? Fool, fool!' he began. 'Oh dear, +what has come to people? We've kept company, kept company for well-nigh +a year, and now "Good-bye!" and off he goes! Why, I love you, and how I +pity you! You are so forlorn, always alone, always alone. You're +somehow so unsociable. At times I can't sleep for thinking about you. I +am so sorry for you. As the song has it: + +"It is very hard, dear brother, In a foreign land to live." + +So it is with you.' + +'Well, good-bye,' said Olenin again. + +The old man rose and held out his hand. Olenin pressed it and turned to +go. + +'Give us your mug, your mug!' + +And the old man took Olenin by the head with both hands and kissed him +three times with wet moustaches and lips, and began to cry. + +'I love you, good-bye!' + +Olenin got into the cart. + +'Well, is that how you're going? You might give me something for a +remembrance. Give me a gun! What do you want two for?' said the old +man, sobbing quite sincerely. + +Olenin got out a musket and gave it to him. + +'What a lot you've given the old fellow,' murmured Vanyusha, 'he'll +never have enough! A regular old beggar. They are all such irregular +people,' he remarked, as he wrapped himself in his overcoat and took +his seat on the box. + +'Hold your tongue, swine!' exclaimed the old man, laughing. 'What a +stingy fellow!' + +Maryanka came out of the cowshed, glanced indifferently at the cart, +bowed and went towards the hut. + +'LA FILLE!' said Vanyusha, with a wink, and burst out into a silly +laugh. + +'Drive on!' shouted Olenin, angrily. + +'Good-bye, my lad! Good-bye. I won't forget you!' shouted Eroshka. + +Olenin turned round. Daddy Eroshka was talking to Maryanka, evidently +about his own affairs, and neither the old man nor the girl looked at +Olenin. + + + +The End + + + + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Cossacks, by Leo Tolstoy + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE COSSACKS *** + +***** This file should be named 4761.txt or 4761.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/4/7/6/4761/ + +Produced by Steve Harris, 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 public domain print editions 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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Be sure to check the +copyright laws for your country before downloading or redistributing +this or any other Project Gutenberg eBook. + +This header should be the first thing seen when viewing this Project +Gutenberg file. Please do not remove it. Do not change or edit the +header without written permission. + +Please read the "legal small print," and other information about the +eBook and Project Gutenberg at the bottom of this file. Included is +important information about your specific rights and restrictions in +how the file may be used. You can also find out about how to make a +donation to Project Gutenberg, and how to get involved. + + +**Welcome To The World of Free Plain Vanilla Electronic Texts** + +**eBooks Readable By Both Humans and By Computers, Since 1971** + +*****These eBooks Were Prepared By Thousands of Volunteers!***** + + +Title: The Cossacks + +Author: Leo Tolstoy + +Release Date: December, 2003 [EBook #4761] +[Yes, we are more than one year ahead of schedule] +[This file was first posted on March 13, 2002] + +Edition: 10 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK, THE COSSACKS *** + + + + +Steve Harris, Charles Franks and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team. + + + +THE COSSACKS +A Tale of 1852 + +By Leo Tolstoy (1863) + +Translated by Louise and Aylmer Maude + + + + +Chapter I + + +All is quiet in Moscow. The squeak of wheels is seldom heard in +the snow-covered street. There are no lights left in the windows +and the street lamps have been extinguished. Only the sound of +bells, borne over the city from the church towers, suggests the +approach of morning. The streets are deserted. At rare intervals a +night-cabman's sledge kneads up the snow and sand in the street as +the driver makes his way to another corner where he falls asleep +while waiting for a fare. An old woman passes by on her way to +church, where a few wax candles burn with a red light reflected on +the gilt mountings of the icons. Workmen are already getting up +after the long winter night and going to their work--but for the +gentlefolk it is still evening. + +From a window in Chevalier's Restaurant a light--illegal at that +hour--is still to be seen through a chink in the shutter. At the +entrance a carriage, a sledge, and a cabman's sledge, stand close +together with their backs to the curbstone. A three-horse sledge +from the post-station is there also. A yard-porter muffled up and +pinched with cold is sheltering behind the corner of the house. + +'And what's the good of all this jawing?' thinks the footman who +sits in the hall weary and haggard. 'This always happens when I'm +on duty.' From the adjoining room are heard the voices of three +young men, sitting there at a table on which are wine and the +remains of supper. One, a rather plain, thin, neat little man, +sits looking with tired kindly eyes at his friend, who is about to +start on a journey. Another, a tall man, lies on a sofa beside a +table on which are empty bottles, and plays with his watch-key. A +third, wearing a short, fur-lined coat, is pacing up and down the +room stopping now and then to crack an almond between his strong, +rather thick, but well-tended fingers. He keeps smiling at +something and his face and eyes are all aglow. He speaks warmly +and gesticulates, but evidently does not find the words he wants +and those that occur to him seem to him inadequate to express what +has risen to his heart. + + +'Now I can speak out fully,' said the traveller. 'I don't want to +defend myself, but I should like you at least to understand me as +I understand myself, and not look at the matter superficially. You +say I have treated her badly,' he continued, addressing the man +with the kindly eyes who was watching him. + +'Yes, you are to blame,' said the latter, and his look seemed to +express still more kindliness and weariness. + +'I know why you say that,' rejoined the one who was leaving. 'To +be loved is in your opinion as great a happiness as to love, and +if a man obtains it, it is enough for his whole life.' + +'Yes, quite enough, my dear fellow, more than enough!' confirmed +the plain little man, opening and shutting his eyes. + +'But why shouldn't the man love too?' said the traveller +thoughtfully, looking at his friend with something like pity. 'Why +shouldn't one love? Because love doesn't come ... No, to be +beloved is a misfortune. It is a misfortune to feel guilty because +you do not give something you cannot give. O my God!' he added, +with a gesture of his arm. 'If it all happened reasonably, and not +all topsy-turvy--not in our way but in a way of its own! Why, it's +as if I had stolen that love! You think so too, don't deny it. You +must think so. But will you believe it, of all the horrid and +stupid things I have found time to do in my life--and there are +many--this is one I do not and cannot repent of. Neither at the +beginning nor afterwards did I lie to myself or to her. It seemed +to me that I had at last fallen in love, but then I saw that it +was an involuntary falsehood, and that that was not the way to +love, and I could not go on, but she did. Am I to blame that I +couldn't? What was I to do?' + +'Well, it's ended now!' said his friend, lighting a cigar to +master his sleepiness. 'The fact is that you have not yet loved +and do not know what love is.' + +The man in the fur-lined coat was going to speak again, and put +his hands to his head, but could not express what he wanted to +say. + +'Never loved! ... Yes, quite true, I never have! But after all, I +have within me a desire to love, and nothing could be stronger +than that desire! But then, again, does such love exist? There +always remains something incomplete. Ah well! What's the use of +talking? I've made an awful mess of life! But anyhow it's all over +now; you are quite right. And I feel that I am beginning a new +life.' + +'Which you will again make a mess of,' said the man who lay on the +sofa playing with his watch-key. But the traveller did not listen +to him. + +'I am sad and yet glad to go,' he continued. 'Why I am sad I don't +know.' + +And the traveller went on talking about himself, without noticing +that this did not interest the others as much as it did him. A man +is never such an egotist as at moments of spiritual ecstasy. At +such times it seems to him that there is nothing on earth more +splendid and interesting than himself. + +'Dmitri Andreich! The coachman won't wait any longer!' said a +young serf, entering the room in a sheepskin coat, with a scarf +tied round his head. 'The horses have been standing since twelve, +and it's now four o'clock!' + +Dmitri Andreich looked at his serf, Vanyusha. The scarf round +Vanyusha's head, his felt boots and sleepy face, seemed to be +calling his master to a new life of labour, hardship, and +activity. + +'True enough! Good-bye!' said he, feeling for the unfastened hook +and eye on his coat. + +In spite of advice to mollify the coachman by another tip, he put +on his cap and stood in the middle of the room. The friends kissed +once, then again, and after a pause, a third time. The man in the +fur-lined coat approached the table and emptied a champagne glass, +then took the plain little man's hand and blushed. + +'Ah well, I will speak out all the same ... I must and will be +frank with you because I am fond of you ... Of course you love +her--I always thought so--don't you?' + +'Yes,' answered his friend, smiling still more gently. + +'And perhaps...' + +'Please sir, I have orders to put out the candles,' said the +sleepy attendant, who had been listening to the last part of the +conversation and wondering why gentlefolk always talk about one +and the same thing. 'To whom shall I make out the bill? To you, +sir?' he added, knowing whom to address and turning to the tall +man. + +'To me,' replied the tall man. 'How much?' + +'Twenty-six rubles.' + +The tall man considered for a moment, but said nothing and put the +bill in his pocket. + +The other two continued their talk. + +'Good-bye, you are a capital fellow!' said the short plain man +with the mild eyes. Tears filled the eyes of both. They stepped +into the porch. + +'Oh, by the by,' said the traveller, turning with a blush to the +tall man, 'will you settle Chevalier's bill and write and let me +know?' + +'All right, all right!' said the tall man, pulling on his gloves. +'How I envy you!' he added quite unexpectedly when they were out +in the porch. + +The traveller got into his sledge, wrapped his coat about him, and +said: 'Well then, come along!' He even moved a little to make room +in the sledge for the man who said he envied him--his voice +trembled. + +'Good-bye, Mitya! I hope that with God's help you...' said the +tall one. But his wish was that the other would go away quickly, +and so he could not finish the sentence. + +They were silent a moment. Then someone again said, 'Good-bye,' +and a voice cried, 'Ready,' and the coachman touched up the +horses. + +'Hy, Elisar!' One of the friends called out, and the other +coachman and the sledge-drivers began moving, clicking their +tongues and pulling at the reins. Then the stiffened carriage- +wheels rolled squeaking over the frozen snow. + +'A fine fellow, that Olenin!' said one of the friends. 'But what +an idea to go to the Caucasus--as a cadet, too! I wouldn't do it +for anything. ... Are you dining at the club to-morrow?' + +'Yes.' + +They separated. + +The traveller felt warm, his fur coat seemed too hot. He sat on +the bottom of the sledge and unfastened his coat, and the three +shaggy post-horses dragged themselves out of one dark street into +another, past houses he had never before seen. It seemed to Olenin +that only travellers starting on a long journey went through those +streets. All was dark and silent and dull around him, but his soul +was full of memories, love, regrets, and a pleasant tearful +feeling. + + + + +Chapter II + + +'I'm fond of them, very fond! ... First-rate fellows! ... Fine!' +he kept repeating, and felt ready to cry. But why he wanted to +cry, who were the first-rate fellows he was so fond of--was more +than he quite knew. Now and then he looked round at some house and +wondered why it was so curiously built; sometimes he began +wondering why the post-boy and Vanyusha, who were so different +from himself, sat so near, and together with him were being jerked +about and swayed by the tugs the side-horses gave at the frozen +traces, and again he repeated: 'First rate ... very fond!' and +once he even said: 'And how it seizes one ... excellent!' and +wondered what made him say it. 'Dear me, am I drunk?' he asked +himself. He had had a couple of bottles of wine, but it was not +the wine alone that was having this effect on Olenin. He +remembered all the words of friendship heartily, bashfully, +spontaneously (as he believed) addressed to him on his departure. +He remembered the clasp of hands, glances, the moments of silence, +and the sound of a voice saying, 'Good-bye, Mitya!' when he was +already in the sledge. He remembered his own deliberate frankness. +And all this had a touching significance for him. Not only friends +and relatives, not only people who had been indifferent to him, +but even those who did not like him, seemed to have agreed to +become fonder of him, or to forgive him, before his departure, as +people do before confession or death. 'Perhaps I shall not return +from the Caucasus,' he thought. And he felt that he loved his +friends and some one besides. He was sorry for himself. But it was +not love for his friends that so stirred and uplifted his heart +that he could not repress the meaningless words that seemed to +rise of themselves to his lips; nor was it love for a woman (he +had never yet been in love) that had brought on this mood. Love +for himself, love full of hope--warm young love for all that was +good in his own soul (and at that moment it seemed to him that +there was nothing but good in it)--compelled him to weep and to +mutter incoherent words. + +Olenin was a youth who had never completed his university course, +never served anywhere (having only a nominal post in some +government office or other), who had squandered half his fortune +and had reached the age of twenty-four without having done +anything or even chosen a career. He was what in Moscow society is +termed un jeune homme. + +At the age of eighteen he was free--as only rich young Russians in +the 'forties who had lost their parents at an early age could be. +Neither physical nor moral fetters of any kind existed for him; he +could do as he liked, lacking nothing and bound by nothing. +Neither relatives, nor fatherland, nor religion, nor wants, +existed for him. He believed in nothing and admitted nothing. But +although he believed in nothing he was not a morose or blase young +man, nor self-opinionated, but on the contrary continually let +himself be carried away. He had come to the conclusion that there +is no such thing as love, yet his heart always overflowed in the +presence of any young and attractive woman. He had long been aware +that honours and position were nonsense, yet involuntarily he felt +pleased when at a ball Prince Sergius came up and spoke to him +affably. But he yielded to his impulses only in so far as they did +not limit his freedom. As soon as he had yielded to any influence +and became conscious of its leading on to labour and struggle, he +instinctively hastened to free himself from the feeling or +activity into which he was being drawn and to regain his freedom. +In this way he experimented with society-life, the civil service, +farming, music--to which at one time he intended to devote his +life--and even with the love of women in which he did not believe. +He meditated on the use to which he should devote that power of +youth which is granted to man only once in a lifetime: that force +which gives a man the power of making himself, or even--as it +seemed to him--of making the universe, into anything he wishes: +should it be to art, to science, to love of woman, or to practical +activities? It is true that some people are devoid of this +impulse, and on entering life at once place their necks under the +first yoke that offers itself and honestly labour under it for the +rest of their lives. But Olenin was too strongly conscious of the +presence of that all-powerful God of Youth--of that capacity to be +entirely transformed into an aspiration or idea--the capacity to +wish and to do--to throw oneself headlong into a bottomless abyss +without knowing why or wherefore. He bore this consciousness +within himself, was proud of it and, without knowing it, was happy +in that consciousness. Up to that time he had loved only himself, +and could not help loving himself, for he expected nothing but +good of himself and had not yet had time to be disillusioned. On +leaving Moscow he was in that happy state of mind in which a young +man, conscious of past mistakes, suddenly says to himself, 'That +was not the real thing.' All that had gone before was accidental +and unimportant. Till then he had not really tried to live, but +now with his departure from Moscow a new life was beginning--a +life in which there would be no mistakes, no remorse, and +certainly nothing but happiness. + +It is always the case on a long journey that till the first two or +three stages have been passed imagination continues to dwell on +the place left behind, but with the first morning on the road it +leaps to the end of the journey and there begins building castles +in the air. So it happened to Olenin. + +After leaving the town behind, he gazed at the snowy fields and +felt glad to be alone in their midst. Wrapping himself in his fur +coat, he lay at the bottom of the sledge, became tranquil, and +fell into a doze. The parting with his friends had touched him +deeply, and memories of that last winter spent in Moscow and +images of the past, mingled with vague thoughts and regrets, rose +unbidden in his imagination. + +He remembered the friend who had seen him off and his relations +with the girl they had talked about. The girl was rich. "How could +he love her knowing that she loved me?" thought he, and evil +suspicions crossed his mind. "There is much dishonesty in men when +one comes to reflect." Then he was confronted by the question: +"But really, how is it I have never been in love? Every one tells +me that I never have. Can it be that I am a moral monstrosity?" +And he began to recall all his infatuations. He recalled his entry +into society, and a friend's sister with whom he spent several +evenings at a table with a lamp on it which lit up her slender +fingers busy with needlework, and the lower part of her pretty +delicate face. He recalled their conversations that dragged on +like the game in which one passes on a stick which one keeps +alight as long as possible, and the general awkwardness and +restraint and his continual feeling of rebellion at all that +conventionality. Some voice had always whispered: "That's not it, +that's not it," and so it had proved. Then he remembered a ball +and the mazurka he danced with the beautiful D----. "How much in +love I was that night and how happy! And how hurt and vexed I was +next morning when I woke and felt myself still free! Why does not +love come and bind me hand and foot?" thought he. "No, there is no +such thing as love! That neighbour who used to tell me, as she +told Dubrovin and the Marshal, that she loved the stars, was not +IT either." And now his farming and work in the country recurred +to his mind, and in those recollections also there was nothing to +dwell on with pleasure. "Will they talk long of my departure?" +came into his head; but who "they" were he did not quite know. +Next came a thought that made him wince and mutter incoherently. +It was the recollection of M. Cappele the tailor, and the six +hundred and seventy-eight rubles he still owed him, and he +recalled the words in which he had begged him to wait another +year, and the look of perplexity and resignation which had +appeared on the tailor's face. 'Oh, my God, my God!' he repeated, +wincing and trying to drive away the intolerable thought. 'All the +same and in spite of everything she loved me,' thought he of the +girl they had talked about at the farewell supper. 'Yes, had I +married her I should not now be owing anything, and as it is I am +in debt to Vasilyev.' Then he remembered the last night he had +played with Vasilyev at the club (just after leaving her), and he +recalled his humiliating requests for another game and the other's +cold refusal. 'A year's economizing and they will all be paid, and +the devil take them!'... But despite this assurance he again began +calculating his outstanding debts, their dates, and when he could +hope to pay them off. 'And I owe something to Morell as well as to +Chevalier,' thought he, recalling the night when he had run up so +large a debt. It was at a carousel at the gipsies arranged by some +fellows from Petersburg: Sashka B---, an aide-de-camp to the Tsar, +Prince D---, and that pompous old----. 'How is it those gentlemen +are so self-satisfied?' thought he, 'and by what right do they +form a clique to which they think others must be highly flattered +to be admitted? Can it be because they are on the Emperor's staff? +Why, it's awful what fools and scoundrels they consider other +people to be! But I showed them that I at any rate, on the +contrary, do not at all want their intimacy. All the same, I fancy +Andrew, the steward, would be amazed to know that I am on familiar +terms with a man like Sashka B---, a colonel and an aide-de-camp +to the Tsar! Yes, and no one drank more than I did that evening, +and I taught the gipsies a new song and everyone listened to it. +Though I have done many foolish things, all the same I am a very +good fellow,' thought he. + +Morning found him at the third post-stage. He drank tea, and +himself helped Vanyusha to move his bundles and trunks and sat +down among them, sensible, erect, and precise, knowing where all +his belongings were, how much money he had and where it was, where +he had put his passport and the post-horse requisition and toll- +gate papers, and it all seemed to him so well arranged that he +grew quite cheerful and the long journey before him seemed an +extended pleasure-trip. + +All that morning and noon he was deep in calculations of how many +versts he had travelled, how many remained to the next stage, how +many to the next town, to the place where he would dine, to the +place where he would drink tea, and to Stavropol, and what +fraction of the whole journey was already accomplished. He also +calculated how much money he had with him, how much would be left +over, how much would pay off all his debts, and what proportion of +his income he would spend each month. Towards evening, after tea, +he calculated that to Stavropol there still remained seven- +elevenths of the whole journey, that his debts would require seven +months' economy and one-eighth of his whole fortune; and then, +tranquillized, he wrapped himself up, lay down in the sledge, and +again dozed off. His imagination was now turned to the future: to +the Caucasus. All his dreams of the future were mingled with +pictures of Amalat-Beks, Circassian women, mountains, precipices, +terrible torrents, and perils. All these things were vague and +dim, but the love of fame and the danger of death furnished the +interest of that future. Now, with unprecedented courage and a +strength that amazed everyone, he slew and subdued an innumerable +host of hillsmen; now he was himself a hillsman and with them was +maintaining their independence against the Russians. As soon as he +pictured anything definite, familiar Moscow figures always +appeared on the scene. Sashka B---fights with the Russians or the +hillsmen against him. Even the tailor Cappele in some strange way +takes part in the conqueror's triumph. Amid all this he remembered +his former humiliations, weaknesses, and mistakes, and the +recollection was not disagreeable. It was clear that there among +the mountains, waterfalls, fair Circassians, and dangers, such +mistakes could not recur. Having once made full confession to +himself there was an end of it all. One other vision, the sweetest +of them all, mingled with the young man's every thought of the +future--the vision of a woman. + +And there, among the mountains, she appeared to his imagination as +a Circassian slave, a fine figure with a long plait of hair and +deep submissive eyes. He pictured a lonely hut in the mountains, +and on the threshold she stands awaiting him when, tired and +covered with dust, blood, and fame, he returns to her. He is +conscious of her kisses, her shoulders, her sweet voice, and her +submissiveness. She is enchanting, but uneducated, wild, and +rough. In the long winter evenings he begins her education. She is +clever and gifted and quickly acquires all the knowledge +essential. Why not? She can quite easily learn foreign languages, +read the French masterpieces and understand them: Notre Dame de +Paris, for instance, is sure to please her. She can also speak +French. In a drawing-room she can show more innate dignity than a +lady of the highest society. She can sing, simply, powerfully, and +passionately.... 'Oh, what nonsense!' said he to himself. But here +they reached a post-station and he had to change into another +sledge and give some tips. But his fancy again began searching for +the 'nonsense' he had relinquished, and again fair Circassians, +glory, and his return to Russia with an appointment as aide-de- +camp and a lovely wife rose before his imagination. 'But there's +no such thing as love,' said he to himself. 'Fame is all rubbish. +But the six hundred and seventy-eight rubles? ... And the +conquered land that will bring me more wealth than I need for a +lifetime? It will not be right though to keep all that wealth for +myself. I shall have to distribute it. But to whom? Well, six +hundred and seventy-eight rubles to Cappele and then we'll see.' +... Quite vague visions now cloud his mind, and only Vanyusha's +voice and the interrupted motion of the sledge break his healthy +youthful slumber. Scarcely conscious, he changes into another +sledge at the next stage and continues his journey. + +Next morning everything goes on just the same: the same kind of +post-stations and tea-drinking, the same moving horses' cruppers, +the same short talks with Vanyusha, the same vague dreams and +drowsiness, and the same tired, healthy, youthful sleep at night. + + + + +Chapter III + + +The farther Olenin travelled from Central Russia the farther he +left his memories behind, and the nearer he drew to the Caucasus +the lighter his heart became. "I'll stay away for good and never +return to show myself in society," was a thought that sometimes +occurred to him. "These people whom I see here are NOT people. +None of them know me and none of them can ever enter the Moscow +society I was in or find out about my past. And no one in that +society will ever know what I am doing, living among these +people." And quite a new feeling of freedom from his whole past +came over him among the rough beings he met on the road whom he +did not consider to be PEOPLE in the sense that his Moscow +acquaintances were. The rougher the people and the fewer the signs +of civilization the freer he felt. Stavropol, through which he had +to pass, irked him. The signboards, some of them even in French, +ladies in carriages, cabs in the marketplace, and a gentleman +wearing a fur cloak and tall hat who was walking along the +boulevard and staring at the passersby, quite upset him. "Perhaps +these people know some of my acquaintances," he thought; and the +club, his tailor, cards, society ... came back to his mind. But +after Stavropol everything was satisfactory--wild and also +beautiful and warlike, and Olenin felt happier and happier. All +the Cossacks, post-boys, and post-station masters seemed to him +simple folk with whom he could jest and converse simply, without +having to consider to what class they belonged. They all belonged +to the human race which, without his thinking about it, all +appeared dear to Olenin, and they all treated him in a friendly +way. + +Already in the province of the Don Cossacks his sledge had been +exchanged for a cart, and beyond Stavropol it became so warm that +Olenin travelled without wearing his fur coat. It was already +spring--an unexpected joyous spring for Olenin. At night he was no +longer allowed to leave the Cossack villages, and they said it was +dangerous to travel in the evening. Vanyusha began to be uneasy, +and they carried a loaded gun in the cart. Olenin became still +happier. At one of the post-stations the post-master told of a +terrible murder that had been committed recently on the high road. +They began to meet armed men. "So this is where it begins!" +thought Olenin, and kept expecting to see the snowy mountains of +which mention was so often made. Once, towards evening, the Nogay +driver pointed with his whip to the mountains shrouded in clouds. +Olenin looked eagerly, but it was dull and the mountains were +almost hidden by the clouds. Olenin made out something grey and +white and fleecy, but try as he would he could find nothing +beautiful in the mountains of which he had so often read and +heard. The mountains and the clouds appeared to him quite alike, +and he thought the special beauty of the snow peaks, of which he +had so often been told, was as much an invention as Bach's music +and the love of women, in which he did not believe. So he gave up +looking forward to seeing the mountains. But early next morning, +being awakened in his cart by the freshness of the air, he glanced +carelessly to the right. The morning was perfectly clear. Suddenly +he saw, about twenty paces away as it seemed to him at first +glance, pure white gigantic masses with delicate contours, the +distinct fantastic outlines of their summits showing sharply +against the far-off sky. When he had realized the distance between +himself and them and the sky and the whole immensity of the +mountains, and felt the infinitude of all that beauty, he became +afraid that it was but a phantasm or a dream. He gave himself a +shake to rouse himself, but the mountains were still the same. + +"What's that! What is it?" he said to the driver. + +"Why, the mountains," answered the Nogay driver with indifference. + +"And I too have been looking at them for a long while," said +Vanyusha. "Aren't they fine? They won't believe it at home." + +The quick progress of the three-horsed cart along the smooth road +caused the mountains to appear to be running along the horizon, +while their rosy crests glittered in the light of the rising sun. +At first Olenin was only astonished at the sight, then gladdened +by it; but later on, gazing more and more intently at that snow- +peaked chain that seemed to rise not from among other black +mountains, but straight out of the plain, and to glide away into +the distance, he began by slow degrees to be penetrated by their +beauty and at length to FEEL the mountains. From that moment all +he saw, all he thought, and all he felt, acquired for him a new +character, sternly majestic like the mountains! All his Moscow +reminiscences, shame, and repentance, and his trivial dreams about +the Caucasus, vanished and did not return. 'Now it has begun,' a +solemn voice seemed to say to him. The road and the Terek, just +becoming visible in the distance, and the Cossack villages and the +people, all no longer appeared to him as a joke. He looked at +himself or Vanyusha, and again thought of the mountains. ... Two +Cossacks ride by, their guns in their cases swinging rhythmically +behind their backs, the white and bay legs of their horses +mingling confusedly ... and the mountains! Beyond the Terek rises +the smoke from a Tartar village... and the mountains! The sun has +risen and glitters on the Terek, now visible beyond the reeds ... +and the mountains! From the village comes a Tartar wagon, and +women, beautiful young women, pass by... and the mountains! +'Abreks canter about the plain, and here am I driving along and do +not fear them! I have a gun, and strength, and youth... and the +mountains!' + + + + +Chapter IV + + +That whole part of the Terek line (about fifty miles) along which +lie the villages of the Grebensk Cossacks is uniform in character +both as to country and inhabitants. The Terek, which separates the +Cossacks from the mountaineers, still flows turbid and rapid +though already broad and smooth, always depositing greyish sand on +its low reedy right bank and washing away the steep, though not +high, left bank, with its roots of century-old oaks, its rotting +plane trees, and young brushwood. On the right bank lie the +villages of pro-Russian, though still somewhat restless, Tartars. +Along the left bank, back half a mile from the river and standing +five or six miles apart from one another, are Cossack villages. In +olden times most of these villages were situated on the banks of +the river; but the Terek, shifting northward from the mountains +year by year, washed away those banks, and now there remain only +the ruins of the old villages and of the gardens of pear and plum +trees and poplars, all overgrown with blackberry bushes and wild +vines. No one lives there now, and one only sees the tracks of the +deer, the wolves, the hares, and the pheasants, who have learned +to love these places. From village to village runs a road cut +through the forest as a cannon-shot might fly. Along the roads are +cordons of Cossacks and watch-towers with sentinels in them. Only +a narrow strip about seven hundred yards wide of fertile wooded +soil belongs to the Cossacks. To the north of it begin the sand- +drifts of the Nogay or Mozdok steppes, which fetch far to the +north and run, Heaven knows where, into the Trukhmen, Astrakhan, +and Kirghiz-Kaisatsk steppes. To the south, beyond the Terek, are +the Great Chechnya river, the Kochkalov range, the Black +Mountains, yet another range, and at last the snowy mountains, +which can just be seen but have never yet been scaled. In this +fertile wooded strip, rich in vegetation, has dwelt as far back as +memory runs the fine warlike and prosperous Russian tribe +belonging to the sect of Old Believers, and called the Grebensk +Cossacks. + +Long long ago their Old Believer ancestors fled from Russia and +settled beyond the Terek among the Chechens on the Greben, the +first range of wooded mountains of Chechnya. Living among the +Chechens the Cossacks intermarried with them and adopted the +manners and customs of the hill tribes, though they still retained +the Russian language in all its purity, as well as their Old +Faith. A tradition, still fresh among them, declares that Tsar +Ivan the Terrible came to the Terek, sent for their Elders, and +gave them the land on this side of the river, exhorting them to +remain friendly to Russia and promising not to enforce his rule +upon them nor oblige them to change their faith. Even now the +Cossack families claim relationship with the Chechens, and the +love of freedom, of leisure, of plunder and of war, still form +their chief characteristics. Only the harmful side of Russian +influence shows itself--by interference at elections, by +confiscation of church bells, and by the troops who are quartered +in the country or march through it. A Cossack is inclined to hate +less the dzhigit hillsman who maybe has killed his brother, than +the soldier quartered on him to defend his village, but who has +defiled his hut with tobacco-smoke. He respects his enemy the +hillsman and despises the soldier, who is in his eyes an alien and +an oppressor. In reality, from a Cossack's point of view a Russian +peasant is a foreign, savage, despicable creature, of whom he sees +a sample in the hawkers who come to the country and in the +Ukrainian immigrants whom the Cossack contemptuously calls +'woolbeaters'. For him, to be smartly dressed means to be dressed +like a Circassian. The best weapons are obtained from the hillsmen +and the best horses are bought, or stolen, from them. A dashing +young Cossack likes to show off his knowledge of Tartar, and when +carousing talks Tartar even to his fellow Cossack. In spite of all +these things this small Christian clan stranded in a tiny comer of +the earth, surrounded by half-savage Mohammedan tribes and by +soldiers, considers itself highly advanced, acknowledges none but +Cossacks as human beings, and despises everybody else. The Cossack +spends most of his time in the cordon, in action, or in hunting +and fishing. He hardly ever works at home. When he stays in the +village it is an exception to the general rule and then he is +holiday-making. All Cossacks make their own wine, and drunkenness +is not so much a general tendency as a rite, the non-fulfilment of +which would be considered apostasy. The Cossack looks upon a woman +as an instrument for his welfare; only the unmarried girls are +allowed to amuse themselves. A married woman has to work for her +husband from youth to very old age: his demands on her are the +Oriental ones of submission and labour. In consequence of this +outlook women are strongly developed both physically and mentally, +and though they are--as everywhere in the East--nominally in +subjection, they possess far greater influence and importance in +family-life than Western women. Their exclusion from public life +and inurement to heavy male labour give the women all the more +power and importance in the household. A Cossack, who before +strangers considers it improper to speak affectionately or +needlessly to his wife, when alone with her is involuntarily +conscious of her superiority. His house and all his property, in +fact the entire homestead, has been acquired and is kept together +solely by her labour and care. Though firmly convinced that labour +is degrading to a Cossack and is only proper for a Nogay labourer +or a woman, he is vaguely aware of the fact that all he makes use +of and calls his own is the result of that toil, and that it is in +the power of the woman (his mother or his wife) whom he considers +his slave, to deprive him of all he possesses. Besides, the +continuous performance of man's heavy work and the +responsibilities entrusted to her have endowed the Grebensk women +with a peculiarly independent masculine character and have +remarkably developed their physical powers, common sense, +resolution, and stability. The women are in most cases stronger, +more intelligent, more developed, and handsomer than the men. A +striking feature of a Grebensk woman's beauty is the combination +of the purest Circassian type of face with the broad and powerful +build of Northern women. Cossack women wear the Circassian dress-- +a Tartar smock, beshmet, and soft slippers--but they tie their +kerchiefs round their heads in the Russian fashion. Smartness, +cleanliness and elegance in dress and in the arrangement of their +huts, are with them a custom and a necessity. In their relations +with men the women, and especially the unmarried girls, enjoy +perfect freedom. + +Novomlinsk village was considered the very heart of Grebensk +Cossackdom. In it more than elsewhere the customs of the old +Grebensk population have been preserved, and its women have from +time immemorial been renowned all over the Caucasus for their +beauty. A Cossack's livelihood is derived from vineyards, fruit- +gardens, water melon and pumpkin plantations, from fishing, +hunting, maize and millet growing, and from war plunder. +Novomlinsk village lies about two and a half miles away from the +Terek, from which it is separated by a dense forest. On one side +of the road which runs through the village is the river; on the +other, green vineyards and orchards, beyond which are seen the +driftsands of the Nogay Steppe. The village is surrounded by +earth-banks and prickly bramble hedges, and is entered by tall +gates hung between posts and covered with little reed-thatched +roofs. Beside them on a wooden gun-carriage stands an unwieldy +cannon captured by the Cossacks at some time or other, and which +has not been fired for a hundred years. A uniformed Cossack +sentinel with dagger and gun sometimes stands, and sometimes does +not stand, on guard beside the gates, and sometimes presents arms +to a passing officer and sometimes does not. Below the roof of the +gateway is written in black letters on a white board: 'Houses 266: +male inhabitants 897: female 1012.' The Cossacks' houses are all +raised on pillars two and a half feet from the ground. They are +carefully thatched with reeds and have large carved gables. If not +new they are at least all straight and clean, with high porches of +different shapes; and they are not built close together but have +ample space around them, and are all picturesquely placed along +broad streets and lanes. In front of the large bright windows of +many of the houses, beyond the kitchen gardens, dark green poplars +and acacias with their delicate pale verdure and scented white +blossoms overtop the houses, and beside them grow flaunting yellow +sunflowers, creepers, and grape vines. In the broad open square +are three shops where drapery, sunflower and pumpkin seeds, locust +beans and gingerbreads are sold; and surrounded by a tall fence, +loftier and larger than the other houses, stands the Regimental +Commander's dwelling with its casement windows, behind a row of +tall poplars. Few people are to be seen in the streets of the +village on weekdays, especially in summer. The young men are on +duty in the cordons or on military expeditions; the old ones are +fishing or helping the women in the orchards and gardens. Only the +very old, the sick, and the children, remain at home. + + + + +Chapter V + + +It was one of those wonderful evenings that occur only in the +Caucasus. The sun had sunk behind the mountains but it was still +light. The evening glow had spread over a third of the sky, and +against its brilliancy the dull white immensity of the mountains +was sharply defined. The air was rarefied, motionless, and full of +sound. The shadow of the mountains reached for several miles over +the steppe. The steppe, the opposite side of the river, and the +roads, were all deserted. If very occasionally mounted men +appeared, the Cossacks in the cordon and the Chechens in their +aouls (villages) watched them with surprised curiosity and tried +to guess who those questionable men could be. At nightfall people +from fear of one another flock to their dwellings, and only birds +and beasts fearless of man prowl in those deserted spaces. Talking +merrily, the women who have been tying up the vines hurry away +from the gardens before sunset. The vineyards, like all the +surrounding district, are deserted, but the villages become very +animated at that time of the evening. From all sides, walking, +riding, or driving in their creaking carts, people move towards +the village. Girls with their smocks tucked up and twigs in their +hands run chatting merrily to the village gates to meet the cattle +that are crowding together in a cloud of dust and mosquitoes which +they bring with them from the steppe. The well-fed cows and +buffaloes disperse at a run all over the streets and Cossack women +in coloured beshmets go to and fro among them. You can hear their +merry laughter and shrieks mingling with the lowing of the cattle. +There an armed and mounted Cossack, on leave from the cordon, +rides up to a hut and, leaning towards the window, knocks. In +answer to the knock the handsome head of a young woman appears at +the window and you can hear caressing, laughing voices. There a +tattered Nogay labourer, with prominent cheekbones, brings a load +of reeds from the steppes, turns his creaking cart into the +Cossack captain's broad and clean courtyard, and lifts the yoke +off the oxen that stand tossing their heads while he and his +master shout to one another in Tartar. Past a puddle that reaches +nearly across the street, a barefooted Cossack woman with a bundle +of firewood on her back makes her laborious way by clinging to the +fences, holding her smock high and exposing her white legs. A +Cossack returning from shooting calls out in jest: 'Lift it +higher, shameless thing!' and points his gun at her. The woman +lets down her smock and drops the wood. An old Cossack, returning +home from fishing with his trousers tucked up and his hairy grey +chest uncovered, has a net across his shoulder containing silvery +fish that are still struggling; and to take a short cut climbs +over his neighbour's broken fence and gives a tug to his coat +which has caught on the fence. There a woman is dragging a dry +branch along and from round the corner comes the sound of an axe. +Cossack children, spinning their tops wherever there is a smooth +place in the street, are shrieking; women are climbing over fences +to avoid going round. From every chimney rises the odorous kisyak +smoke. From every homestead comes the sound of increased bustle, +precursor to the stillness of night. + +Granny Ulitka, the wife of the Cossack cornet who is also teacher +in the regimental school, goes out to the gates of her yard like +the other women, and waits for the cattle which her daughter +Maryanka is driving along the street. Before she has had time +fully to open the wattle gate in the fence, an enormous buffalo +cow surrounded by mosquitoes rushes up bellowing and squeezes in. +Several well-fed cows slowly follow her, their large eyes gazing +with recognition at their mistress as they swish their sides with +their tails. The beautiful and shapely Maryanka enters at the gate +and throwing away her switch quickly slams the gate to and rushes +with all the speed of her nimble feet to separate and drive the +cattle into their sheds. 'Take off your slippers, you devil's +wench!' shouts her mother, 'you've worn them into holes!' Maryanka +is not at all offended at being called a 'devil's wench', but +accepting it as a term of endearment cheerfully goes on with her +task. Her face is covered with a kerchief tied round her head. She +is wearing a pink smock and a green beshmet. She disappears inside +the lean-to shed in the yard, following the big fat cattle; and +from the shed comes her voice as she speaks gently and +persuasively to the buffalo: 'Won't she stand still? What a +creature! Come now, come old dear!' Soon the girl and the old +woman pass from the shed to the dairy carrying two large pots of +milk, the day's yield. From the dairy chimney rises a thin cloud +of kisyak smoke: the milk is being used to make into clotted +cream. The girl makes up the fire while her mother goes to the +gate. Twilight has fallen on the village. The air is full of the +smell of vegetables, cattle, and scented kisyak smoke. From the +gates and along the streets Cossack women come running, carrying +lighted rags. From the yards one hears the snorting and quiet +chewing of the cattle eased of their milk, while in the street +only the voices of women and children sound as they call to one +another. It is rare on a week-day to hear the drunken voice of a +man. + +One of the Cossack wives, a tall, masculine old woman, approaches +Granny Ulitka from the homestead opposite and asks her for a +light. In her hand she holds a rag. + +'Have you cleared up. Granny?' + +'The girl is lighting the fire. Is it fire you want?' says Granny +Ulitka, proud of being able to oblige her neighbour. + +Both women enter the hut, and coarse hands unused to dealing with +small articles tremblingly lift the lid of a matchbox, which is a +rarity in the Caucasus. The masculine-looking new-comer sits down +on the doorstep with the evident intention of having a chat. + +'And is your man at the school. Mother?' she asked. + +'He's always teaching the youngsters. Mother. But he writes that +he'll come home for the holidays,' said the cornet's wife. + +'Yes, he's a clever man, one sees; it all comes useful.' + +'Of course it does.' + +'And my Lukashka is at the cordon; they won't let him come home,' +said the visitor, though the cornet's wife had known all this long +ago. She wanted to talk about her Lukashka whom she had lately +fitted out for service in the Cossack regiment, and whom she +wished to marry to the cornet's daughter, Maryanka. + +'So he's at the cordon?' + +'He is. Mother. He's not been home since last holidays. The other +day I sent him some shirts by Fomushkin. He says he's all right, +and that his superiors are satisfied. He says they are looking out +for abreks again. Lukashka is quite happy, he says.' + +'Ah well, thank God,' said the cornet's wife.' "Snatcher" is +certainly the only word for him.' Lukashka was surnamed 'the +Snatcher' because of his bravery in snatching a boy from a watery +grave, and the cornet's wife alluded to this, wishing in her turn +to say something agreeable to Lukashka's mother. + +'I thank God, Mother, that he's a good son! He's a fine fellow, +everyone praises him,' says Lukashka's mother. 'All I wish is to +get him married; then I could die in peace.' + +'Well, aren't there plenty of young women in the village?' +answered the cornet's wife slyly as she carefully replaced the lid +of the matchbox with her horny hands. + +'Plenty, Mother, plenty,' remarked Lukashka's mother, shaking her +head. 'There's your girl now, your Maryanka--that's the sort of +girl! You'd have to search through the whole place to find such +another!' The cornet's wife knows what Lukashka's mother is after, +but though she believes him to be a good Cossack she hangs back: +first because she is a cornet's wife and rich, while Lukashka is +the son of a simple Cossack and fatherless, secondly because she +does not want to part with her daughter yet, but chiefly because +propriety demands it. + +'Well, when Maryanka grows up she'll be marriageable too,' she +answers soberly and modestly. + +'I'll send the matchmakers to you--I'll send them! Only let me get +the vineyard done and then we'll come and make our bows to you,' +says Lukashka's mother. 'And we'll make our bows to Elias Vasilich +too.' + +'Elias, indeed!' says the cornet's wife proudly. 'It's to me you +must speak! All in its own good time.' + +Lukashka's mother sees by the stern face of the cornet's wife that +it is not the time to say anything more just now, so she lights +her rag with the match and says, rising: 'Don't refuse us, think +of my words. I'll go, it is time to light the fire.' + +As she crosses the road swinging the burning rag, she meets +Maryanka, who bows. + +'Ah, she's a regular queen, a splendid worker, that girl!' she +thinks, looking at the beautiful maiden. 'What need for her to +grow any more? It's time she was married and to a good home; +married to Lukashka!' + +But Granny Ulitka had her own cares and she remained sitting on +the threshold thinking hard about something, till the girl called +her. + + + + +Chapter VI + + +The male population of the village spend their time on military +expeditions and in the cordon--or 'at their posts', as the +Cossacks say. Towards evening, that same Lukashka the Snatcher, +about whom the old women had been talking, was standing on a +watch-tower of the Nizhni-Prototsk post situated on the very banks +of the Terek. Leaning on the railing of the tower and screwing up +his eyes, he looked now far into the distance beyond the Terek, +now down at his fellow Cossacks, and occasionally he addressed the +latter. The sun was already approaching the snowy range that +gleamed white above the fleecy clouds. The clouds undulating at +the base of the mountains grew darker and darker. The clearness of +evening was noticeable in the air. A sense of freshness came from +the woods, though round the post it was still hot. The voices of +the talking Cossacks vibrated more sonorously than before. The +moving mass of the Terek's rapid brown waters contrasted more +vividly with its motionless banks. The waters were beginning to +subside and here and there the wet sands gleamed drab on the banks +and in the shallows. The other side of the river, just opposite +the cordon, was deserted; only an immense waste of low-growing +reeds stretched far away to the very foot of the mountains. On the +low bank, a little to one side, could be seen the flat-roofed clay +houses and the funnel-shaped chimneys of a Chechen village. The +sharp eyes of the Cossack who stood on the watch-tower followed, +through the evening smoke of the pro-Russian village, the tiny +moving figures of the Chechen women visible in the distance in +their red and blue garments. + +Although the Cossacks expected abreks to cross over and attack +them from the Tartar side at any moment, especially as it was May +when the woods by the Terek are so dense that it is difficult to +pass through them on foot and the river is shallow enough in +places for a horseman to ford it, and despite the fact that a +couple of days before a Cossack had arrived with a circular from +the commander of the regiment announcing that spies had reported +the intention of a party of some eight men to cross the Terek, and +ordering special vigilance--no special vigilance was being +observed in the cordon. The Cossacks, unarmed and with their +horses unsaddled just as if they were at home, spent their time +some in fishing, some in drinking, and some in hunting. Only the +horse of the man on duty was saddled, and with its feet hobbled +was moving about by the brambles near the wood, and only the +sentinel had his Circassian coat on and carried a gun and sword. +The corporal, a tall thin Cossack with an exceptionally long back +and small hands and feet, was sitting on the earth-bank of a hut +with his beshmet unbuttoned. On his face was the lazy, bored +expression of a superior, and having shut his eyes he dropped his +head upon the palm first of one hand and then of the other. An +elderly Cossack with a broad greyish-black beard was lying in his +shirt, girdled with a black strap, close to the river and gazing +lazily at the waves of the Terek as they monotonously foamed and +swirled. Others, also overcome by the heat and half naked, were +rinsing clothes in the Terek, plaiting a fishing line, or humming +tunes as they lay on the hot sand of the river bank. One Cossack, +with a thin face much burnt by the sun, lay near the hut evidently +dead drunk, by a wall which though it had been in shadow some two +hours previously was now exposed to the sun's fierce slanting +rays. + +Lukashka, who stood on the watch-tower, was a tall handsome lad +about twenty years old and very like his mother. His face and +whole build, in spite of the angularity of youth, indicated great +strength, both physical and moral. Though he had only lately +joined the Cossacks at the front, it was evident from the +expression of his face and the calm assurance of his attitude that +he had already acquired the somewhat proud and warlike bearing +peculiar to Cossacks and to men generally who continually carry +arms, and that he felt he was a Cossack and fully knew his own +value. His ample Circassian coat was torn in some places, his cap +was on the back of his head Chechen fashion, and his leggings had +slipped below his knees. His clothing was not rich, but he wore it +with that peculiar Cossack foppishness which consists in imitating +the Chechen brave. Everything on a real brave is ample, ragged, +and neglected, only his weapons are costly. But these ragged +clothes and these weapons are belted and worn with a certain air +and matched in a certain manner, neither of which can be acquired +by everybody and which at once strike the eye of a Cossack or a +hillsman. Lukashka had this resemblance to a brave. With his hands +folded under his sword, and his eyes nearly closed, he kept +looking at the distant Tartar village. Taken separately his +features were not beautiful, but anyone who saw his stately +carriage and his dark-browed intelligent face would involuntarily +say, 'What a fine fellow!' + +'Look at the women, what a lot of them are walking about in the +village,' said he in a sharp voice, languidly showing his +brilliant white teeth and not addressing anyone in particular. + +Nazarka who was lying below immediately lifted his head and +remarked: + +'They must be going for water.' + +'Supposing one scared them with a gun?' said Lukashka, laughing, +'Wouldn't they be frightened?' + +'It wouldn't reach.' + +'What! Mine would carry beyond. Just wait a bit, and when their +feast comes round I'll go and visit Girey Khan and drink buza +there,' said Lukashka, angrily swishing away the mosquitoes which +attached themselves to him. + +A rustling in the thicket drew the Cossack's attention. A pied +mongrel half-setter, searching for a scent and violently wagging +its scantily furred tail, came running to the cordon. Lukashka +recognized the dog as one belonging to his neighbour, Uncle +Eroshka, a hunter, and saw, following it through the thicket, the +approaching figure of the hunter himself. + +Uncle Eroshka was a gigantic Cossack with a broad, snow-white +beard and such broad shoulders and chest that in the wood, where +there was no one to compare him with, he did not look particularly +tall, so well proportioned were his powerful limbs. He wore a +tattered coat and, over the bands with which his legs were +swathed, sandals made of undressed deer's hide tied on with +strings; while on his head he had a rough little white cap. He +carried over one shoulder a screen to hide behind when shooting +pheasants, and a bag containing a hen for luring hawks, and a +small falcon; over the other shoulder, attached by a strap, was a +wild cat he had killed; and stuck in his belt behind were some +little bags containing bullets, gunpowder, and bread, a horse's +tail to swish away the mosquitoes, a large dagger in a torn +scabbard smeared with old bloodstains, and two dead pheasants. +Having glanced at the cordon he stopped. + +'Hy, Lyam!' he called to the dog in such a ringing bass that it +awoke an echo far away in the wood; and throwing over his shoulder +his big gun, of the kind the Cossacks call a 'flint', he raised +his cap. + +'Had a good day, good people, eh?' he said, addressing the +Cossacks in the same strong and cheerful voice, quite without +effort, but as loudly as if he were shouting to someone on the +other bank of the river. + +'Yes, yes. Uncle!' answered from all sides the voices of the young +Cossacks. + +'What have you seen? Tell us!' shouted Uncle Eroshka, wiping the +sweat from his broad red face with the sleeve of his coat. + +'Ah, there's a vulture living in the plane tree here, Uncle. As +soon as night comes he begins hovering round,' said Nazarka, +winking and jerking his shoulder and leg. + +'Come, come!' said the old man incredulously. + +'Really, Uncle! You must keep watch,' replied Nazarka with a +laugh. + +The other Cossacks began laughing. + +The wag had not seen any vulture at all, but it had long been the +custom of the young Cossacks in the cordon to tease and mislead +Uncle Eroshka every time he came to them. + +'Eh, you fool, always lying!' exclaimed Lukashka from the tower to +Nazarka. + +Nazarka was immediately silenced. + +'It must be watched. I'll watch,' answered the old man to the +great delight of all the Cossacks. 'But have you seen any boars?' + +'Watching for boars, are you?' said the corporal, bending forward +and scratching his back with both hands, very pleased at the +chance of some distraction. 'It's abreks one has to hunt here and +not boars! You've not heard anything, Uncle, have you?' he added, +needlessly screwing up his eyes and showing his close-set white +teeth. + +'Abreks,' said the old man. 'No, I haven't. I say, have you any +chikhir? Let me have a drink, there's a good man. I'm really quite +done up. When the time comes I'll bring you some fresh meat, I +really will. Give me a drink!' he added. + +'Well, and are you going to watch?' inquired the corporal, as +though he had not heard what the other said. + +'I did mean to watch tonight,' replied Uncle Eroshka. 'Maybe, with +God's help, I shall kill something for the holiday. Then you shall +have a share, you shall indeed!' + +'Uncle! Hallo, Uncle!' called out Lukashka sharply from above, +attracting everybody's attention. All the Cossacks looked up at +him. 'Just go to the upper water-course, there's a fine herd of +boars there. I'm not inventing, really! The other day one of our +Cossacks shot one there. I'm telling you the truth,' added he, +readjusting the musket at his back and in a tone that showed he +was not joking. + +'Ah! Lukashka the Snatcher is here!' said the old man, looking up. +'Where has he been shooting?' + +'Haven't you seen? I suppose you're too young!' said Lukashka. +'Close by the ditch,' he went on seriously with a shake of the +head. 'We were just going along the ditch when all at once we +heard something crackling, but my gun was in its case. Elias fired +suddenly ... But I'll show you the place, it's not far. You just +wait a bit. I know every one of their footpaths ... Daddy Mosev,' +said he, turning resolutely and almost commandingly to the +corporal, 'it's time to relieve guard!' and holding aloft his gun +he began to descend from the watch-tower without waiting for the +order. + +'Come down!' said the corporal, after Lukashka had started, and +glanced round. 'Is it your turn, Gurka? Then go ... True enough +your Lukashka has become very skilful,' he went on, addressing the +old man. 'He keeps going about just like you, he doesn't stay at +home. The other day he killed a boar.' + + + + +Chapter VII + + +The sun had already set and the shades of night were rapidly +spreading from the edge of the wood. The Cossacks finished their +task round the cordon and gathered in the hut for supper. Only the +old man still stayed under the plane tree watching for the vulture +and pulling the string tied to the falcon's leg, but though a +vulture was really perching on the plane tree it declined to swoop +down on the lure. Lukashka, singing one song after another, was +leisurely placing nets among the very thickest brambles to trap +pheasants. In spite of his tall stature and big hands every kind +of work, both rough and delicate, prospered under Lukashka's +fingers. + +'Hallo, Luke!' came Nazarka's shrill, sharp voice calling him from +the thicket close by. 'The Cossacks have gone in to supper.' + +Nazarka, with a live pheasant under his arm, forced his way +through the brambles and emerged on the footpath. + +'Oh!' said Lukashka, breaking off in his song, 'where did you get +that cock pheasant? I suppose it was in my trap?' + +Nazarka was of the same age as Lukashka and had also only been at +the front since the previous spring. + +He was plain, thin and puny, with a shrill voice that rang in +one's ears. They were neighbours and comrades. Lukashka was +sitting on the grass crosslegged like a Tartar, adjusting his +nets. + +'I don't know whose it was--yours, I expect.' + +'Was it beyond the pit by the plane tree? Then it is mine! I set +the nets last night.' + +Lukashka rose and examined the captured pheasant. After stroking +the dark burnished head of the bird, which rolled its eyes and +stretched out its neck in terror, Lukashka took the pheasant in +his hands. + +'We'll have it in a pilau tonight. You go and kill and pluck it.' + +'And shall we eat it ourselves or give it to the corporal?' + +'He has plenty!' + +'I don't like killing them,' said Nazarka. + +'Give it here!' + +Lukashka drew a little knife from under his dagger and gave it a +swift jerk. The bird fluttered, but before it could spread its +wings the bleeding head bent and quivered. + +'That's how one should do it!' said Lukashka, throwing down the +pheasant. 'It will make a fat pilau.' + +Nazarka shuddered as he looked at the bird. + +'I say, Lukashka, that fiend will be sending us to the ambush +again tonight,' he said, taking up the bird. (He was alluding to +the corporal.) 'He has sent Fomushkin to get wine, and it ought to +be his turn. He always puts it on us.' + +Lukashka went whistling along the cordon. + +'Take the string with you,' he shouted. + +Nazirka obeyed. + +'I'll give him a bit of my mind today, I really will,' continued +Nazarka. 'Let's say we won't go; we're tired out and there's an +end of it! No, really, you tell him, he'll listen to you. It's too +bad!' + +'Get along with you! What a thing to make a fuss about!' said +Lukashka, evidently thinking of something else. 'What bosh! If he +made us turn out of the village at night now, that would be +annoying: there one can have some fun, but here what is there? +It's all one whether we're in the cordon or in ambush. What a +fellow you are!' + +'And are you going to the village?' + +'I'll go for the holidays.' + +'Gurka says your Dunayka is carrying on with Fomushkin,' said +Nazarka suddenly. + +'Well, let her go to the devil,' said Lukashka, showing his +regular white teeth, though he did not laugh. 'As if I couldn't +find another!' + +'Gurka says he went to her house. Her husband was out and there +was Fomushkin sitting and eating pie. Gurka stopped awhile and +then went away, and passing by the window he heard her say, "He's +gone, the fiend.... Why don't you eat your pie, my own? You +needn't go home for the night," she says. And Gurka under the +window says to himself, "That's fine!"' + +'You're making it up.' + +'No, quite true, by Heaven!' + +'Well, if she's found another let her go to the devil,' said +Lukashka, after a pause. 'There's no lack of girls and I was sick +of her anyway.' + +'Well, see what a devil you are!' said Nazarka. 'You should make +up to the cornet's girl, Maryanka. Why doesn't she walk out with +any one?' + +Lukashka frowned. 'What of Maryanka? They're all alike,' said he. + +'Well, you just try... ' + +'What do you think? Are girls so scarce in the village?' + +And Lukashka recommenced whistling, and went along the cordon +pulling leaves and branches from the bushes as he went. Suddenly, +catching sight of a smooth sapling, he drew the knife from the +handle of his dagger and cut it down. 'What a ramrod it will +make,' he said, swinging the sapling till it whistled through the +air. + +The Cossacks were sitting round a low Tartar table on the earthen +floor of the clay-plastered outer room of the hut, when the +question of whose turn it was to lie in ambush was raised. 'Who is +to go tonight?' shouted one of the Cossacks through the open door +to the corporal in the next room. + +'Who is to go?' the corporal shouted back. 'Uncle Burlak has been +and Fomushkin too,' said he, not quite confidently. 'You two had +better go, you and Nazarka,' he went on, addressing Lukashka. 'And +Ergushov must go too; surely he has slept it off?' + +'You don't sleep it off yourself so why should he?' said Nazarka +in a subdued voice. + +The Cossacks laughed. + +Ergushov was the Cossack who had been lying drunk and asleep near +the hut. He had only that moment staggered into the room rubbing +his eyes. + +Lukashka had already risen and was getting his gun ready. + +'Be quick and go! Finish your supper and go!' said the corporal; +and without waiting for an expression of consent he shut the door, +evidently not expecting the Cossack to obey. 'Of course,' thought +he, 'if I hadn't been ordered to I wouldn't send anyone, but an +officer might turn up at any moment. As it is, they say eight +abreks have crossed over.' + +'Well, I suppose I must go,' remarked Ergushov, 'it's the +regulation. Can't be helped! The times are such. I say, we must +go.' + +Meanwhile Lukashka, holding a big piece of pheasant to his mouth +with both hands and glancing now at Nazarka, now at Ergushov, +seemed quite indifferent to what passed and only laughed at them +both. Before the Cossacks were ready to go into ambush. Uncle +Eroshka, who had been vainly waiting under the plane tree till +night fell, entered the dark outer room. + +'Well, lads,' his loud bass resounded through the low-roofed room +drowning all the other voices, 'I'm going with you. You'll watch +for Chechens and I for boars!' + + + + +Chapter VIII + + +It was quite dark when Uncle Eroshka and the three Cossacks, in +their cloaks and shouldering their guns, left the cordon and went +towards the place on the Terek where they were to lie in ambush. +Nazarka did not want to go at all, but Lukashka shouted at him and +they soon started. After they had gone a few steps in silence the +Cossacks turned aside from the ditch and went along a path almost +hidden by reeds till they reached the river. On its bank lay a +thick black log cast up by the water. The reeds around it had been +recently beaten down. + +'Shall we lie here?' asked Nazarka. + +'Why not?' answered Lukashka. 'Sit down here and I'll be back in a +minute. I'll only show Daddy where to go.' + +'This is the best place; here we can see and not be seen,' said +Ergushov, 'so it's here we'll lie. It's a first-rate place!' + +Nazarka and Ergushov spread out their cloaks and settled down +behind the log, while Lukashka went on with Uncle Eroshka. + +'It's not far from here. Daddy,' said Lukashka, stepping softly in +front of the old man; 'I'll show you where they've been--I'm the +only one that knows. Daddy.' + +'Show me! You're a fine fellow, a regular Snatcher!' replied the +old man, also whispering. + +Having gone a few steps Lukashka stopped, stooped down over a +puddle, and whistled. 'That's where they come to drink, d'you +see?' He spoke in a scarcely audible voice, pointing to fresh +hoof-prints. + +'Christ bless you,' answered the old man. 'The boar will be in the +hollow beyond the ditch,' he added. Til watch, and you can go.' + +Lukashka pulled his cloak up higher and walked back alone, +throwing swift glances now to the left at the wall of reeds, now +to the Terek rushing by below the bank. 'I daresay he's watching +or creeping along somewhere,' thought he of a possible Chechen +hillsman. Suddenly a loud rustling and a splash in the water made +him start and seize his musket. From under the bank a boar leapt +up--his dark outline showing for a moment against the glassy +surface of the water and then disappearing among the reeds. +Lukashka pulled out his gun and aimed, but before he could fire +the boar had disappeared in the thicket. Lukashka spat with +vexation and went on. On approaching the ambuscade he halted again +and whistled softly. His whistle was answered and he stepped up to +his comrades. + +Nazarka, all curled up, was already asleep. Ergushov sat with his +legs crossed and moved slightly to make room for Lukashka. + +'How jolly it is to sit here! It's really a good place,' said he. +'Did you take him there?' + +'Showed him where,' answered Lukashka, spreading out his cloak. +'But what a big boar I roused just now close to the water! I +expect it was the very one! You must have heard the crash?' + +'I did hear a beast crashing through. I knew at once it was a +beast. I thought to myself: "Lukashka has roused a beast,"' +Ergushov said, wrapping himself up in his cloak. 'Now I'll go to +sleep,' he added. 'Wake me when the cocks crow. We must have +discipline. I'll lie down and have a nap, and then you will have a +nap and I'll watch--that's the way.' + +'Luckily I don't want to sleep,' answered Lukashka. + +The night was dark, warm, and still. Only on one side of the sky +the stars were shining, the other and greater part was overcast by +one huge cloud stretching from the mountaintops. The black cloud, +blending in the absence of any wind with the mountains, moved +slowly onwards, its curved edges sharply denned against the deep +starry sky. Only in front of him could the Cossack discern the +Terek and the distance beyond. Behind and on both sides he was +surrounded by a wall of reeds. Occasionally the reeds would sway +and rustle against one another apparently without cause. Seen from +down below, against the clear part of the sky, their waving tufts +looked like the feathery branches of trees. Close in front at his +very feet was the bank, and at its base the rushing torrent. A +little farther on was the moving mass of glassy brown water which +eddied rhythmically along the bank and round the shallows. Farther +still, water, banks, and cloud all merged together in impenetrable +gloom. Along the surface of the water floated black shadows, in +which the experienced eyes of the Cossack detected trees carried +down by the current. Only very rarely sheet-lightning, mirrored in +the water as in a black glass, disclosed the sloping bank +opposite. The rhythmic sounds of night--the rustling of the reeds, +the snoring of the Cossacks, the hum of mosquitoes, and the +rushing water, were every now and then broken by a shot fired in +the distance, or by the gurgling of water when a piece of bank +slipped down, the splash of a big fish, or the crashing of an +animal breaking through the thick undergrowth in the wood. Once an +owl flew past along the Terek, flapping one wing against the other +rhythmically at every second beat. Just above the Cossack's head +it turned towards the wood and then, striking its wings no longer +after every other flap but at every flap, it flew to an old plane +tree where it rustled about for a long time before settling down +among the branches. At every one of these unexpected sounds the +watching Cossack listened intently, straining his hearing, and +screwing up his eyes while he deliberately felt for his musket. + +The greater part of the night was past. The black cloud that had +moved westward revealed the clear starry sky from under its torn +edge, and the golden upturned crescent of the moon shone above the +mountains with a reddish light. The cold began to be penetrating. +Nazarka awoke, spoke a little, and fell asleep again. Lukashka +feeling bored got up, drew the knife from his dagger-handle and +began to fashion his stick into a ramrod. His head was full of the +Chechens who lived over there in the mountains, and of how their +brave lads came across and were not afraid of the Cossacks, and +might even now be crossing the river at some other spot. He thrust +himself out of his hiding-place and looked along the river but +could see nothing. And as he continued looking out at intervals +upon the river and at the opposite bank, now dimly distinguishable +from the water in the faint moonlight, he no longer thought about +the Chechens but only of when it would be time to wake his +comrades, and of going home to the village. In the village he +imagined Dunayka, his 'little soul', as the Cossacks call a man's +mistress, and thought of her with vexation. Silvery mists, a sign +of coming morning, glittered white above the water, and not far +from him young eagles were whistling and flapping their wings. At +last the crowing of a cock reached him from the distant village, +followed by the long-sustained note of another, which was again +answered by yet other voices. + +'Time to wake them,' thought Lukashka, who had finished his ramrod +and felt his eyes growing heavy. Turning to his comrades he +managed to make out which pair of legs belonged to whom, when it +suddenly seemed to him that he heard something splash on the other +side of the Terek. He turned again towards the horizon beyond the +hills, where day was breaking under the upturned crescent, glanced +at the outline of the opposite bank, at the Terek, and at the now +distinctly visible driftwood upon it. For one instant it seemed to +him that he was moving and that the Terek with the drifting wood +remained stationary. Again he peered out. One large black log with +a branch particularly attracted his attention. The tree was +floating in a strange way right down the middle of the stream, +neither rocking nor whirling. It even appeared not to be floating +altogether with the current, but to be crossing it in the +direction of the shallows. Lukashka stretching out his neck +watched it intently. The tree floated to the shallows, stopped, +and shifted in a peculiar manner. Lukashka thought he saw an arm +stretched out from beneath the tree. 'Supposing I killed an abrek +all by myself!' he thought, and seized his gun with a swift, +unhurried movement, putting up his gun-rest, placing the gun upon +it, and holding it noiselessly in position. Cocking the trigger, +with bated breath he took aim, still peering out intently. 'I +won't wake them,' he thought. But his heart began beating so fast +that he remained motionless, listening. Suddenly the trunk gave a +plunge and again began to float across the stream towards our +bank. 'Only not to miss ...' thought he, and now by the faint +light of the moon he caught a glimpse of a Tartar's head in front +of the floating wood. He aimed straight at the head which appeared +to be quite near--just at the end of his rifle's barrel. He +glanced cross. 'Right enough it is an abrek! he thought joyfully, +and suddenly rising to his knees he again took aim. Having found +the sight, barely visible at the end of the long gun, he said: 'In +the name of the Father and of the Son,' in the Cossack way learnt +in his childhood, and pulled the trigger. A flash of lightning lit +up for an instant the reeds and the water, and the sharp, abrupt +report of the shot was carried across the river, changing into a +prolonged roll somewhere in the far distance. The piece of +driftwood now floated not across, but with the current, rocking +and whirling. + +'Stop, I say!' exclaimed Ergushov, seizing his musket and raising +himself behind the log near which he was lying. + +'Shut up, you devil!' whispered Lukashka, grinding his teeth. +'abreks!' + +'Whom have you shot?' asked Nazarka. 'Who was it, Lukashka?' + +Lukashka did not answer. He was reloading his gun and watching the +floating wood. A little way off it stopped on a sand-bank, and +from behind it something large that rocked in the water came into +view. + +'What did you shoot? Why don't you speak?' insisted the Cossacks. + +'Abreks, I tell you!' said Lukashka. + +'Don't humbug! Did the gun go off? ...' + +'I've killed an abrek, that's what I fired at,' muttered Lukashka +in a voice choked by emotion, as he jumped to his feet. 'A man was +swimming...' he said, pointing to the sandbank. 'I killed him. +Just look there.' + +'Have done with your humbugging!' said Ergushov again, rubbing his +eyes. + +'Have done with what? Look there,' said Lukashka, seizing him by +the shoulders and pulling him with such force that Ergushov +groaned. + +He looked in the direction in which Lukashka pointed, and +discerning a body immediately changed his tone. + +'O Lord! But I say, more will come! I tell you the truth,' said he +softly, and began examining his musket. 'That was a scout swimming +across: either the others are here already or are not far off on +the other side--I tell you for sure!' Lukashka was unfastening his +belt and taking off his Circassian coat. + +'What are you up to, you idiot?' exclaimed Ergushov. 'Only show +yourself and you've lost all for nothing, I tell you true! If +you've killed him he won't escape. Let me have a little powder for +my musket-pan--you have some? Nazarka, you go back to the cordon +and look alive; but don't go along the bank or you'll be killed--I +tell you true.' + +'Catch me going alone! Go yourself!' said Nazarka angrily. + +Having taken off his coat, Lukashka went down to the bank. + +'Don't go in, I tell you!' said Ergushov, putting some powder on +the pan. 'Look, he's not moving. I can see. It's nearly morning; +wait till they come from the cordon. You go, Nazarka. You're +afraid! Don't be afraid, I tell you.' + +'Luke, I say, Lukashka! Tell us how you did it!' said Nazarka. + +Lukashka changed his mind about going into the water just then. +'Go quick to the cordon and I will watch. Tell the Cossacks to +send out the patrol. If the ABREKS are on this side they must be +caught,' said he. + +'That's what I say. They'll get off,' said Ergushov, rising. +'True, they must be caught!' + +Ergushov and Nazarka rose and, crossing themselves, started off +for the cordon--not along the riverbank but breaking their way +through the brambles to reach a path in the wood. + +'Now mind, Lukashka--they may cut you down here, so you'd best +keep a sharp look-out, I tell you!' + +'Go along; I know,' muttered Lukashka; and having examined his gun +again he sat down behind the log. + +He remained alone and sat gazing at the shallows and listening for +the Cossacks; but it was some distance to the cordon and he was +tormented by impatience. He kept thinking that the other ABREKS +who were with the one he had killed would escape. He was vexed +with the ABREKS who were going to escape just as he had been with +the boar that had escaped the evening before. He glanced round and +at the opposite bank, expecting every moment to see a man, and +having arranged his gun-rest he was ready to fire. The idea that +he might himself be killed never entered his head. + + + + +Chapter IX + + +It was growing light. The Chechen's body which was gently rocking +in the shallow water was now clearly visible. Suddenly the reeds +rustled not far from Luke and he heard steps and saw the feathery +tops of the reeds moving. He set his gun at full cock and +muttered: 'In the name of the Father and of the Son,' but when the +cock clicked the sound of steps ceased. + +'Hallo, Cossacks! Don't kill your Daddy!' said a deep bass voice +calmly; and moving the reeds apart Daddy Eroshka came up close to +Luke. + +'I very nearly killed you, by God I did!' said Lukashka. + +'What have you shot?' asked the old man. + +His sonorous voice resounded through the wood and downward along +the river, suddenly dispelling the mysterious quiet of night +around the Cossack. It was as if everything had suddenly become +lighter and more distinct. + +'There now. Uncle, you have not seen anything, but I've killed a +beast,' said Lukashka, uncocking his gun and getting up with +unnatural calmness. + +The old man was staring intently at the white back, now clearly +visible, against which the Terek rippled. + +'He was swimming with a log on his back. I spied him out! ... Look +there. There! He's got blue trousers, and a gun I think.... Do you +see?' inquired Luke. + + 'How can one help seeing?' said the old man angrily, and a +serious and stern expression appeared on his face. 'You've killed +a brave,' he said, apparently with regret. + +'Well, I sat here and suddenly saw something dark on the other +side. I spied him when he was still over there. It was as if a man +had come there and fallen in. Strange! And a piece of driftwood, a +good-sized piece, comes floating, not with the stream but across +it; and what do I see but a head appearing from under it! Strange! +I stretched out of the reeds but could see nothing; then I rose +and he must have heard, the beast, and crept out into the shallow +and looked about. "No, you don't!" I said, as soon as he landed +and looked round, "you won't get away!" Oh, there was something +choking me! I got my gun ready but did not stir, and looked out. +He waited a little and then swam out again; and when he came into +the moonlight I could see his whole back. "In the name of the +Father and of the Son and of the Holy Ghost"... and through the +smoke I see him struggling. He moaned, or so it seemed to me. +"Ah," I thought, "the Lord be thanked, I've killed him!" And when +he drifted onto the sand-bank I could see him distinctly: he tried +to get up but couldn't. He struggled a bit and then lay down. +Everything could be seen. Look, he does not move--he must be dead! +The Cossacks have gone back to the cordon in case there should be +any more of them.' + +'And so you got him!' said the old man. 'He is far away now, my +lad! ...' And again he shook his head sadly. + +Just then the sound reached them of breaking bushes and the loud +voices of Cossacks approaching along the bank on horseback and on +foot. 'Are you bringing the skiff?' shouted Lukashka. + +'You're a trump, Luke! Lug it to the bank!' shouted one of the +Cossacks. + +Without waiting for the skiff Lukashka began to undress, keeping +an eye all the while on his prey. + +'Wait a bit, Nazarka is bringing the skiff,' shouted the corporal. + +'You fool! Maybe he is alive and only pretending! Take your dagger +with you!' shouted another Cossack. + +'Get along,' cried Luke, pulling off his trousers. He quickly +undressed and, crossing himself, jumped, plunging with a splash +into the river. Then with long strokes of his white arms, lifting +his back high out of the water and breathing deeply, he swam +across the current of the Terek towards the shallows. A crowd of +Cossacks stood on the bank talking loudly. Three horsemen rode off +to patrol. The skiff appeared round a bend. Lukashka stood up on +the sandbank, leaned over the body, and gave it a couple of +shakes. + +'Quite dead!' he shouted in a shrill voice. + +The Chechen had been shot in the head. He had on a pair of blue +trousers, a shirt, and a Circassian coat, and a gun and dagger +were tied to his back. Above all these a large branch was tied, +and it was this which at first had misled Lukashka. + +'What a carp you've landed!' cried one of the Cossacks who had +assembled in a circle, as the body, lifted out of the skiff, was +laid on the bank, pressing down the grass. + +'How yellow he is!' said another. + +'Where have our fellows gone to search? I expect the rest of them +are on the other bank. If this one had not been a scout he would +not have swum that way. Why else should he swim alone?' said a +third. + +'Must have been a smart one to offer himself before the others; a +regular brave!' said Lukashka mockingly, shivering as he wrung out +his clothes that had got wet on the bank. + +'His beard is dyed and cropped.' + +'And he has tied a bag with a coat in it to his back.' + +'That would make it easier for him to swim,' said some one. + +'I say, Lukashka,' said the corporal, who was holding the dagger +and gun taken from the dead man. 'Keep the dagger for yourself and +the coat too; but I'll give you three rubles for the gun. You see +it has a hole in it,' said he, blowing into the muzzle. 'I want it +just for a souvenir.' + +Lukashka did not answer. Evidently this sort of begging vexed him +but he knew it could not be avoided. + +'See, what a devil!' said he, frowning and throwing down the +Chechen's coat. 'If at least it were a good coat, but it's a mere +rag.' + +'It'll do to fetch firewood in,' said one of the Cossacks. + +'Mosev, I'll go home,' said Lukashka, evidently forgetting his +vexation and wishing to get some advantage out of having to give a +present to his superior. + +'All right, you may go!' + +'Take the body beyond the cordon, lads,' said the corporal, still +examining the gun, 'and put a shelter over him from the sun. +Perhaps they'll send from the mountains to ransom it.' + +'It isn't hot yet,' said someone. + +'And supposing a jackal tears him? Would that be well?' remarked +another Cossack. + +'We'll set a watch; if they should come to ransom him it won't do +for him to have been torn.' + +'Well, Lukashka, whatever you do you must stand a pail of vodka +for the lads,' said the corporal gaily. + +'Of course! That's the custom,' chimed in the Cossacks. 'See what +luck God has sent you! Without ever having seen anything of the +kind before, you've killed a brave!' + +'Buy the dagger and coat and don't be stingy, and I'll let you +have the trousers too,' said Lukashka. 'They're too tight for me; +he was a thin devil.' + +One Cossack bought the coat for a ruble and another gave the price +of two pails of vodka for the dagger. + +'Drink, lads! I'll stand you a pail!' said Luke. 'I'll bring it +myself from the village.' + +'And cut up the trousers into kerchiefs for the girls!' said +Nazarka. + +The Cossacks burst out laughing. + +'Have done laughing!' said the corporal. 'And take the body away. +Why have you put the nasty thing by the hut?' + +'What are you standing there for? Haul him along, lads!' shouted +Lukashka in a commanding voice to the Cossacks, who reluctantly +took hold of the body, obeying him as though he were their chief. +After dragging the body along for a few steps the Cossacks let +fall the legs, which dropped with a lifeless jerk, and stepping +apart they then stood silent for a few moments. Nazarka came up +and straightened the head, which was turned to one side so that +the round wound above the temple and the whole of the dead man's +face were visible. 'See what a mark he has made right in the +brain,' he said. 'He won't get lost. His owners will always know +him!' No one answered, and again the Angel of Silence flew over +the Cossacks. + +The sun had risen high and its diverging beams were lighting up +the dewy grass. Near by, the Terek murmured in the awakened wood +and, greeting the morning, the pheasants called to one another. +The Cossacks stood still and silent around the dead man, gazing at +him. The brown body, with nothing on but the wet blue trousers +held by a girdle over the sunken stomach, was well shaped and +handsome. The muscular arms lay stretched straight out by his +sides; the blue, freshly shaven, round head with the clotted wound +on one side of it was thrown back. The smooth tanned forehead +contrasted sharply with the shaven part of the head. The open +glassy eyes with lowered pupils stared upwards, seeming to gaze +past everything. Under the red trimmed moustache the fine lips, +drawn at the corners, seemed stiffened into a smile of good- +natured subtle raillery. The fingers of the small hands covered +with red hairs were bent inward, and the nails were dyed red. + +Lukashka had not yet dressed. He was wet. His neck was redder and +his eyes brighter than usual, his broad jaws twitched, and from +his healthy body a hardly perceptible steam rose in the fresh +morning air. + +'He too was a man!' he muttered, evidently admiring the corpse. + +'Yes, if you had fallen into his hands you would have had short +shrift,' said one of the Cossacks. + +The Angel of Silence had taken wing. The Cossacks began bustling +about and talking. Two of them went to cut brushwood for a +shelter, others strolled towards the cordon. Luke and Nazarka ran +to get ready to go to the village. + +Half an hour later they were both on their way homewards, talking +incessantly and almost running through the dense woods which +separated the Terek from the village. + +'Mind, don't tell her I sent you, but just go and find out if her +husband is at home,' Luke was saying in his shrill voice. + +'And I'll go round to Yamka too,' said the devoted Nazarka. 'We'll +have a spree, shall we?' + +'When should we have one if not to-day?' replied Luke. + +When they reached the village the two Cossacks drank, and lay down +to sleep till evening. + + + + +Chapter X + + +On the third day after the events above described, two companies +of a Caucasian infantry regiment arrived at the Cossack village of +Novomlinsk. The horses had been unharnessed and the companies' +wagons were standing in the square. The cooks had dug a pit, and +with logs gathered from various yards (where they had not been +sufficiently securely stored) were now cooking the food; the pay- +sergeants were settling accounts with the soldiers. The Service +Corps men were driving piles in the ground to which to tie the +horses, and the quartermasters were going about the streets just +as if they were at home, showing officers and men to their +quarters. Here were green ammunition boxes in a line, the +company's carts, horses, and cauldrons in which buckwheat porridge +was being cooked. Here were the captain and the lieutenant and the +sergeant-major, Onisim Mikhaylovich, and all this was in the +Cossack village where it was reported that the companies were +ordered to take up their quarters: therefore they were at home +here. But why they were stationed there, who the Cossacks were, +and whether they wanted the troops to be there, and whether they +were Old Believers or not--was all quite immaterial. Having +received their pay and been dismissed, tired out and covered with +dust, the soldiers noisily and in disorder, like a swarm of bees +about to settle, spread over the squares and streets; quite +regardless of the Cossacks' ill will, chattering merrily and with +their muskets clinking, by twos and threes they entered the huts +and hung up their accoutrements, unpacked their bags, and bantered +the women. At their favourite spot, round the porridge-cauldrons, +a large group of soldiers assembled and with little pipes between +their teeth they gazed, now at the smoke which rose into the hot +sky, becoming visible when it thickened into white clouds as it +rose, and now at the camp fires which were quivering in the pure +air like molten glass, and bantered and made fun of the Cossack +men and women because they do not live at all like Russians. In +all the yards one could see soldiers and hear their laughter and +the exasperated and shrill cries of Cossack women defending their +houses and refusing to give the soldiers water or cooking +utensils. Little boys and girls, clinging to their mothers and to +each other, followed all the movements of the troopers (never +before seen by them) with frightened curiosity, or ran after them +at a respectful distance. The old Cossacks came out silently and +dismally and sat on the earthen embankments of their huts, and +watched the soldiers' activity with an air of leaving it all to +the will of God without understanding what would come of it. + +Olenin, who had joined the Caucasian Army as a cadet three months +before, was quartered in one of the best houses in the village, +the house of the cornet, Elias Vasilich--that is to say at Granny +Ulitka's. + +'Goodness knows what it will be like, Dmitri Andreich,' said the +panting Vanyusha to Olenin, who, dressed in a Circassian coat and +mounted on a Kabarda horse which he had bought in Groznoe, was +after a five-hours' march gaily entering the yard of the quarters +assigned to him. + +'Why, what's the matter?' he asked, caressing his horse and +looking merrily at the perspiring, dishevelled, and worried +Vanyusha, who had arrived with the baggage wagons and was +unpacking. + +Olenin looked quite a different man. In place of his clean-shaven +lips and chin he had a youthful moustache and a small beard. +Instead of a sallow complexion, the result of nights turned into +day, his cheeks, his forehead, and the skin behind his ears were +now red with healthy sunburn. In place of a clean new black suit +he wore a dirty white Circassian coat with a deeply pleated skirt, +and he bore arms. Instead of a freshly starched collar, his neck +was tightly clasped by the red band of his silk BESHMET. He wore +Circassian dress but did not wear it well, and anyone would have +known him for a Russian and not a Tartar brave. It was the thing-- +but not the real thing. But for all that, his whole person +breathed health, joy, and satisfaction. + +'Yes, it seems funny to you,' said Vanyusha, 'but just try to talk +to these people yourself: they set themselves against one and +there's an end of it. You can't get as much as a word out of +them.' Vanyusha angrily threw down a pail on the threshold. +'Somehow they don't seem like Russians.' + +'You should speak to the Chief of the Village!' + +'But I don't know where he lives,' said Vanyusha in an offended +tone. + +'Who has upset you so?' asked Olenin, looking round. + +'The devil only knows. Faugh! There is no real master here. They +say he has gone to some kind of KRIGA, and the old woman is a real +devil. God preserve us!' answered Vanyusha, putting his hands to +his head. 'How we shall live here I don't know. They are worse +than Tartars, I do declare--though they consider themselves +Christians! A Tartar is bad enough, but all the same he is more +noble. Gone to the KRIGA indeed! What this KRIGA they have +invented is, I don't know!' concluded Vanyusha, and turned aside. + +'It's not as it is in the serfs' quarters at home, eh?' chaffed +Olenin without dismounting. + +'Please sir, may I have your horse?' said Vanyusha, evidently +perplexed by this new order of things but resigning himself to his +fate. + +'So a Tartar is more noble, eh, Vanyusha?' repeated Olenin, +dismounting and slapping the saddle. + +'Yes, you're laughing! You think it funny,' muttered Vanyusha +angrily. + +'Come, don't be angry, Vanyusha,' replied Olenin, still smiling. +'Wait a minute, I'll go and speak to the people of the house; +you'll see I shall arrange everything. You don't know what a jolly +life we shall have here. Only don't get upset.' + +Vanyusha did not answer. Screwing up his eyes he looked +contemptuously after his master, and shook his head. Vanyusha +regarded Olenin as only his master, and Olenin regarded Vanyusha +as only his servant; and they would both have been much surprised +if anyone had told them that they were friends, as they really +were without knowing it themselves. Vanyusha had been taken into +his proprietor's house when he was only eleven and when Olenin was +the same age. When Olenin was fifteen he gave Vanyusha lessons for +a time and taught him to read French, of which the latter was +inordinately proud; and when in specially good spirits he still +let off French words, always laughing stupidly when he did so. + +Olenin ran up the steps of the porch and pushed open the door of +the hut. Maryanka, wearing nothing but a pink smock, as all +Cossack women do in the house, jumped away from the door, +frightened, and pressing herself against the wall covered the +lower part other face with the broad sleeve of her Tartar smock. +Having opened the door wider, Olenin in the semi-darkness of the +passage saw the whole tall, shapely figure of the young Cossack +girl. With the quick and eager curiosity of youth he involuntarily +noticed the firm maidenly form revealed by the fine print smock, +and the beautiful black eyes fixed on him with childlike terror +and wild curiosity. 'This is SHE,' thought Olenin. 'But there will +be many others like her' came at once into his head, and he opened +the inner door. Old Granny Ulitka, also dressed only in a smock, +was stooping with her back turned to him, sweeping the floor. + +'Good-day to you. Mother! I've come about my lodgings,' he began. + +The Cossack woman, without unbending, turned her severe but still +handsome face towards him. + +'What have you come here for? Want to mock at us, eh? I'll teach +you to mock; may the black plague seize you!' she shouted, looking +askance from under her frowning brow at the new-comer. + +Olenin had at first imagined that the way-worn, gallant Caucasian +Army (of which he was a member) would be everywhere received +joyfully, and especially by the Cossacks, our comrades in the war; +and he therefore felt perplexed by this reception. Without losing +presence of mind however he tried to explain that he meant to pay +for his lodgings, but the old woman would not give him a hearing. + +'What have you come for? Who wants a pest like you, with your +scraped face? You just wait a bit; when the master returns he'll +show you your place. I don't want your dirty money! A likely +thing--just as if we had never seen any! You'll stink the house +out with your beastly tobacco and want to put it right with money! +Think we've never seen a pest! May you be shot in your bowels and +your heart!' shrieked the old woman in a piercing voice, +interrupting Olenin. + +'It seems Vanyusha was right!' thought Olenin. "A Tartar would be +nobler",' and followed by Granny Ulitka's abuse he went out of the +hut. As he was leaving, Maryanka, still wearing only her pink +smock, but with her forehead covered down to her eyes by a white +kerchief, suddenly slipped out from the passage past him. +Pattering rapidly down the steps with her bare feet she ran from +the porch, stopped, and looking round hastily with laughing eyes +at the young man, vanished round the corner of the hut. + +Her firm youthful step, the untamed look of the eyes glistening +from under the white kerchief, and the firm stately build of the +young beauty, struck Olenin even more powerfully than before. +'Yes, it must be SHE,' he thought, and troubling his head still +less about the lodgings, he kept looking round at Maryanka as he +approached Vanyusha. + +'There you see, the girl too is quite savage, just like a wild +filly!' said Vanyusha, who though still busy with the luggage +wagon had now cheered up a bit. 'LA FAME!' he added in a loud +triumphant voice and burst out laughing. + + + + +Chapter XI + + +Towards evening the master of the house returned from his fishing, +and having learnt that the cadet would pay for the lodging, +pacified the old woman and satisfied Vanyusha's demands. + +Everything was arranged in the new quarters. Their hosts moved +into the winter hut and let their summer hut to the cadet for +three rubles a month. Olenin had something to eat and went to +sleep. Towards evening he woke up, washed and made himself tidy, +dined, and having lit a cigarette sat down by the window that +looked onto the street. It was cooler. The slanting shadow of the +hut with its ornamental gables fell across the dusty road and even +bent upwards at the base of the wall of the house opposite. The +steep reed-thatched roof of that house shone in the rays of the +setting sun. The air grew fresher. Everything was peaceful in the +village. The soldiers had settled down and become quiet. The herds +had not yet been driven home and the people had not returned from +their work. + +Olenin's lodging was situated almost at the end of the village. At +rare intervals, from somewhere far beyond the Terek in those parts +whence Olenin had just come (the Chechen or the Kumytsk plain), +came muffled sounds of firing. Olenin was feeling very well +contented after three months of bivouac life. His newly washed +face was fresh and his powerful body clean (an unaccustomed +sensation after the campaign) and in all his rested limbs he was +conscious of a feeling of tranquillity and strength. His mind, +too, felt fresh and clear. He thought of the campaign and of past +dangers. He remembered that he had faced them no worse than other +men, and that he was accepted as a comrade among valiant +Caucasians. His Moscow recollections were left behind Heaven knows +how far! The old life was wiped out and a quite new life had begun +in which there were as yet no mistakes. Here as a new man among +new men he could gain a new and good reputation. He was conscious +of a youthful and unreasoning joy of life. Looking now out of the +window at the boys spinning their tops in the shadow of the house, +now round his neat new lodging, he thought how pleasantly he would +settle down to this new Cossack village life. Now and then he +glanced at the mountains and the blue sky, and an appreciation of +the solemn grandeur of nature mingled with his reminiscences and +dreams. His new life had begun, not as he imagined it would when +he left Moscow, but unexpectedly well. 'The mountains, the +mountains, the mountains!' they permeated all his thoughts and +feelings. + +'He's kissed his dog and licked the jug! ... Daddy Eroshka has +kissed his dog!' suddenly the little Cossacks who had been +spinning their tops under the window shouted, looking towards the +side street. 'He's drunk his bitch, and his dagger!' shouted the +boys, crowding together and stepping backwards. + +These shouts were addressed to Daddy Eroshka, who with his gun on +his shoulder and some pheasants hanging at his girdle was +returning from his shooting expedition. + +'I have done wrong, lads, I have!' he said, vigorously swinging +his arms and looking up at the windows on both sides of the +street. 'I have drunk the bitch; it was wrong,' he repeated, +evidently vexed but pretending not to care. + +Olenin was surprised by the boys' behavior towards the old hunter, +but was still more struck by the expressive, intelligent face and +the powerful build of the man whom they called Daddy Eroshka. + +'Here Daddy, here Cossack!' he called. 'Come here!' + +The old man looked into the window and stopped. + +'Good evening, good man,' he said, lifting his little cap off his +cropped head. + +'Good evening, good man,' replied Olenin. 'What is it the +youngsters are shouting at you?' + +Daddy Eroshka came up to the window. 'Why, they're teasing the old +man. No matter, I like it. Let them joke about their old daddy,' +he said with those firm musical intonations with which old and +venerable people speak. 'Are you an army commander?' he added. + +'No, I am a cadet. But where did you kill those pheasants?' asked +Olenin. + +'I dispatched these three hens in the forest,' answered the old +man, turning his broad back towards the window to show the hen +pheasants which were hanging with their heads tucked into his belt +and staining his coat with blood. 'Haven't you seen any?' he +asked. 'Take a brace if you like! Here you are,' and he handed two +of the pheasants in at the window. 'Are you a sportsman yourself?' +he asked. + +'I am. During the campaign I killed four myself.' + +'Four? What a lot!' said the old man sarcastically. 'And are you a +drinker? Do you drink CHIKHIR?' + +'Why not? I like a drink.' + +'Ah, I see you are a trump! We shall be KUNAKS, you and I,' said +Daddy Eroshka. + +'Step in,' said Olenin. 'We'll have a drop of CHIKHIR.' + +'I might as well,' said the old man, 'but take the pheasants.' The +old man's face showed that he liked the cadet. He had seen at once +that he could get free drinks from him, and that therefore it +would be all right to give him a brace of pheasants. + +Soon Daddy Eroshka's figure appeared in the doorway of the hut, +and it was only then that Olenin became fully conscious of the +enormous size and sturdy build of this man, whose red-brown face +with its perfectly white broad beard was all furrowed by deep +lines produced by age and toil. For an old man, the muscles of his +legs, arms, and shoulders were quite exceptionally large and +prominent. There were deep scars on his head under the short- +cropped hair. His thick sinewy neck was covered with deep +intersecting folds like a bull's. His horny hands were bruised and +scratched. He stepped lightly and easily over the threshold, +unslung his gun and placed it in a corner, and casting a rapid +glance round the room noted the value of the goods and chattels +deposited in the hut, and with out-turned toes stepped softly, in +his sandals of raw hide, into the middle of the room. He brought +with him a penetrating but not unpleasant smell of CHIKHIR wine, +vodka, gunpowder, and congealed blood. + +Daddy Eroshka bowed down before the icons, smoothed his beard, and +approaching Olenin held out his thick brown hand. 'Koshkildy,' +said he; That is Tartar for "Good-day"--"Peace be unto you," it +means in their tongue.' + +'Koshkildy, I know,' answered Olenin, shaking hands. + +'Eh, but you don't, you won't know the right order! Fool!' said +Daddy Eroshka, shaking his head reproachfully. 'If anyone says +"Koshkildy" to you, you must say "Allah rasi bo sun," that is, +"God save you." That's the way, my dear fellow, and not +"Koshkildy." But I'll teach you all about it. We had a fellow +here, Elias Mosevich, one of your Russians, he and I were kunaks. +He was a trump, a drunkard, a thief, a sportsman--and what a +sportsman! I taught him everything.' + +'And what will you teach me?' asked Olenin, who was becoming more +and more interested in the old man. + +'I'll take you hunting and teach you to fish. I'll show you +Chechens and find a girl for you, if you like--even that! That's +the sort I am! I'm a wag!'--and the old man laughed. 'I'll sit +down. I'm tired. Karga?' he added inquiringly. + +'And what does "Karga" mean?' asked Olenin. + +'Why, that means "All right" in Georgian. But I say it just so. It +is a way I have, it's my favourite word. Karga, Karga. I say it +just so; in fun I mean. Well, lad, won't you order the chikhir? +You've got an orderly, haven't you? Hey, Ivan!' shouted the old +man. 'All your soldiers are Ivans. Is yours Ivan?' + +'True enough, his name is Ivan--Vanyusha. Here Vanyusha! Please +get some chikhir from our landlady and bring it here.' + +'Ivan or Vanyusha, that's all one. Why are all your soldiers +Ivans? Ivan, old fellow,' said the old man, 'you tell them to give +you some from the barrel they have begun. They have the best +chikhir in the village. But don't give more than thirty kopeks for +the quart, mind, because that witch would be only too glad.... Our +people are anathema people; stupid people,' Daddy Eroshka +continued in a confidential tone after Vanyusha had gone out. +'They do not look upon you as on men, you are worse than a Tartar +in their eyes. "Worldly Russians" they say. But as for me, though +you are a soldier you are still a man, and have a soul in you. +Isn't that right? Elias Mosevich was a soldier, yet what a +treasure of a man he was! Isn't that so, my dear fellow? That's +why our people don't like me; but I don't care! I'm a merry +fellow, and I like everybody. I'm Eroshka; yes, my dear fellow.' + +And the old Cossack patted the young man affectionately on the +shoulder. + + + + +Chapter XII + + +Vanyusha, who meanwhile had finished his housekeeping arrangements +and had even been shaved by the company's barber and had pulled +his trousers out of his high boots as a sign that the company was +stationed in comfortable quarters, was in excellent spirits. He +looked attentively but not benevolently at Eroshka, as at a wild +beast he had never seen before, shook his head at the floor which +the old man had dirtied and, having taken two bottles from under a +bench, went to the landlady. + +'Good evening, kind people,' he said, having made up his mind to +be very gentle. 'My master has sent me to get some chikhir. Will +you draw some for me, good folk?' + +The old woman gave no answer. The girl, who was arranging the +kerchief on her head before a little Tartar mirror, looked round +at Vanyusha in silence. + +'I'll pay money for it, honoured people,' said Vanyusha, jingling +the coppers in his pocket. 'Be kind to us and we, too will be kind +to you,' he added. + +'How much?' asked the old woman abruptly. 'A quart.' + +'Go, my own, draw some for them,' said Granny Ulitka to her +daughter. 'Take it from the cask that's begun, my precious.' + +The girl took the keys and a decanter and went out of the hut with +Vanyusha. + +'Tell me, who is that young woman?' asked Olenin, pointing to +Maryanka, who was passing the window. The old man winked and +nudged the young man with his elbow. + +'Wait a bit,' said he and reached out of the window. 'Khm,' he +coughed, and bellowed, 'Maryanka dear. Hallo, Maryanka, my girlie, +won't you love me, darling? I'm a wag,' he added in a whisper to +Olenin. The girl, not turning her head and swinging her arms +regularly and vigorously, passed the window with the peculiarly +smart and bold gait of a Cossack woman and only turned her dark +shaded eyes slowly towards the old man. + +'Love me and you'll be happy,' shouted Eroshka, winking, and he +looked questioningly at the cadet. + +'I'm a fine fellow, I'm a wag!' he added. 'She's a regular queen, +that girl. Eh?' + +'She is lovely,' said Olenin. 'Call her here!' + +'No, no,' said the old man. 'For that one a match is being +arranged with Lukashka, Luke, a fine Cossack, a brave, who killed +an abrek the other day. I'll find you a better one. I'll find you +one that will be all dressed up in silk and silver. Once I've said +it I'll do it. I'll get you a regular beauty!' + +'You, an old man--and say such things,' replied Olenin. 'Why, it's +a sin!' + +'A sin? Where's the sin?' said the old man emphatically. 'A sin to +look at a nice girl? A sin to have some fun with her? Or is it a +sin to love her? Is that so in your parts? ... No, my dear fellow, +it's not a sin, it's salvation! God made you and God made the girl +too. He made it all; so it is no sin to look at a nice girl. +That's what she was made for; to be loved and to give joy. That's +how I judge it, my good fellow.' + +Having crossed the yard and entered a cool dark storeroom filled +with barrels, Maryanka went up to one of them and repeating the +usual prayer plunged a dipper into it. Vanyusha standing in the +doorway smiled as he looked at her. He thought it very funny that +she had only a smock on, close-fitting behind and tucked up in +front, and still funnier that she wore a necklace of silver coins. +He thought this quite un-Russian and that they would all laugh in +the serfs' quarters at home if they saw a girl like that. 'La +fille comme c'est tres bien, for a change,' he thought. 'I'll tell +that to my master.' + +'What are you standing in the light for, you devil!' the girl +suddenly shouted. 'Why don't you pass me the decanter!' + +Having filled the decanter with cool red wine, Maryanka handed it +to Vanyusha. + +'Give the money to Mother,' she said, pushing away the hand in +which he held the money. + +Vanyusha laughed. + +'Why are you so cross, little dear?' he said good-naturedly, +irresolutely shuffling with his feet while the girl was covering +the barrel. + +She began to laugh. + +'And you! Are you kind?' + +'We, my master and I, are very kind,' Vanyusha answered decidedly. +'We are so kind that wherever we have stayed our hosts were always +very grateful. It's because he's generous.' + +The girl stood listening. + +'And is your master married?' she asked. + +'No. The master is young and unmarried, because noble gentlemen +can never marry young,' said Vanyusha didactically. + +'A likely thing! See what a fed-up buffalo he is--and too young to +marry! Is he the chief of you all?' she asked. + +'My master is a cadet; that means he's not yet an officer, but +he's more important than a general--he's an important man! Because +not only our colonel, but the Tsar himself, knows him,' proudly +explained Vanyusha. 'We are not like those other beggars in the +line regiment, and our papa himself was a Senator. He had more +than a thousand serfs, all his own, and they send us a thousand +rubles at a time. That's why everyone likes us. Another may be a +captain but have no money. What's the use of that?' + +'Go away. I'll lock up,' said the girl, interrupting him. + +Vanyusha brought Olenin the wine and announced that 'La fille +c'est tres joulie,' and, laughing stupidly, at once went out. + + + + +Chapter XIII + + +Meanwhile the tattoo had sounded in the village square. The people +had returned from their work. The herd lowed as in clouds of +golden dust it crowded at the village gate. The girls and the +women hurried through the streets and yards, turning in their +cattle. The sun had quite hidden itself behind the distant snowy +peaks. One pale bluish shadow spread over land and sky. Above the +darkened gardens stars just discernible were kindling, and the +sounds were gradually hushed in the village. The cattle having +been attended to and left for the night, the women came out and +gathered at the corners of the streets and, cracking sunflower +seeds with their teeth, settled down on the earthen embankments of +the houses. Later on Maryanka, having finished milking the buffalo +and the other two cows, also joined one of these groups. + +The group consisted of several women and girls and one old Cossack +man. + +They were talking about the abrek who had been killed. + +The Cossack was narrating and the women questioning him. + +'I expect he'll get a handsome reward,' said one of the women. + +'Of course. It's said that they'll send him a cross.' + +'Mosev did try to wrong him. Took the gun away from him, but the +authorities at Kizlyar heard of it.' + +'A mean creature that Mosev is!' + +'They say Lukashka has come home,' remarked one of the girls. + +'He and Nazarka are merry-making at Yamka's.' (Yamka was an +unmarried, disreputable Cossack woman who kept an illicit pot- +house.) 'I heard say they had drunk half a pailful.' + +'What luck that Snatcher has,' somebody remarked. 'A real +snatcher. But there's no denying he's a fine lad, smart enough for +anything, a right-minded lad! His father was just such another. +Daddy Kiryak was: he takes after his father. When he was killed +the whole village howled. Look, there they are,' added the +speaker, pointing to the Cossacks who were coming down the street +towards them. + +'And Ergushov has managed to come along with them too! The +drunkard!' + +Lukashka, Nazarka, and Ergushov, having emptied half a pail of +vodka, were coming towards the girls. The faces of all three, but +especially that of the old Cossack, were redder than usual. +Ergushov was reeling and kept laughing and nudging Nazarka in the +ribs. + +'Why are you not singing?' he shouted to the girls. 'Sing to our +merry-making, I tell you!' + +They were welcomed with the words, 'Had a good day? Had a good +day?' + +'Why sing? It's not a holiday,' said one of the women. 'You're +tight, so you go and sing.' + +Ergushov roared with laughter and nudged Nazarka. 'You'd better +sing. And I'll begin too. I'm clever, I tell you.' + +'Are you asleep, fair ones?' said Nazarka. 'We've come from the +cordon to drink your health. We've already drunk Lukashka's +health.' + +Lukashka, when he reached the group, slowly raised his cap and +stopped in front of the girls. His broad cheekbones and neck were +red. He stood and spoke softly and sedately, but in his +tranquillity and sedateness there was more of animation and +strength than in all Nazarka's loquacity and bustle. He reminded +one of a playful colt that with a snort and a flourish of its tail +suddenly stops short and stands as though nailed to the ground +with all four feet. Lukashka stood quietly in front of the girls, +his eyes laughed, and he spoke but little as he glanced now at his +drunken companions and now at the girls. When Maryanka joined the +group he raised his cap with a firm deliberate movement, moved out +of her way and then stepped in front of her with one foot a little +forward and with his thumbs in his belt, fingering his dagger. +Maryanka answered his greeting with a leisurely bow of her head, +settled down on the earth-bank, and took some seeds out of the +bosom of her smock. Lukashka, keeping his eyes fixed on Maryanka, +slowly cracked seeds and spat out the shells. All were quiet when +Maryanka joined the group. + +'Have you come for long?' asked a woman, breaking the silence. + +'Till to-morrow morning,' quietly replied Lukashka. + +'Well, God grant you get something good,' said the Cossack; 'I'm +glad of it, as I've just been saying.' + +'And I say so too,' put in the tipsy Ergushov, laughing. 'What a +lot of visitors have come,' he added, pointing to a soldier who +was passing by. 'The soldiers' vodka is good--I like it.' + +'They've sent three of the devils to us,' said one of the women. +'Grandad went to the village Elders, but they say nothing can be +done.' + +'Ah, ha! Have you met with trouble?' said Ergushov. + +'I expect they have smoked you out with their tobacco?' asked +another woman. 'Smoke as much as you like in the yard, I say, but +we won't allow it inside the hut. Not if the Elder himself comes, +I won't allow it. Besides, they may rob you. He's not quartered +any of them on himself, no fear, that devil's son of an Elder.' + +'You don't like it?' Ergushov began again. + +'And I've also heard say that the girls will have to make the +soldiers' beds and offer them chikhir and honey,' said Nazarka, +putting one foot forward and tilting his cap like Lukashka. + +Ergushov burst into a roar of laughter, and seizing the girl +nearest to him, he embraced her. 'I tell you true.' + +'Now then, you black pitch!' squealed the girl, 'I'll tell your +old woman.' + +'Tell her,' shouted he. 'That's quite right what Nazarka says; a +circular has been sent round. He can read, you know. Quite true!' +And he began embracing the next girl. + +'What are you up to, you beast?' squealed the rosy, round-faced +Ustenka, laughing and lifting her arm to hit him. + +The Cossack stepped aside and nearly fell. + +'There, they say girls have no strength, and you nearly killed +me.' + +'Get away, you black pitch, what devil has brought you from the +cordon?' said Ustenka, and turning away from him she again burst +out laughing. 'You were asleep and missed the abrek, didn't you? +Suppose he had done for you it would have been all the better.' + +'You'd have howled, I expect,' said Nazarka, laughing. + +'Howled! A likely thing.' + +'Just look, she doesn't care. She'd howl, Nazarka, eh? Would she?' +said Ergushov. + +Lukishka all this time had stood silently looking at Maryanka. His +gaze evidently confused the girl. + +'Well, Maryanka! I hear they've quartered one of the chiefs on +you?' he said, drawing nearer. + +Maryanka, as was her wont, waited before she replied, and slowly +raising her eyes looked at the Cossack. Lukashka's eyes were +laughing as if something special, apart from what was said, was +taking place between himself and the girl. + +'Yes, it's all right for them as they have two huts,' replied an +old woman on Maryanka's behalf, 'but at Fomushkin's now they also +have one of the chiefs quartered on them and they say one whole +corner is packed full with his things, and the family have no room +left. Was such a thing ever heard of as that they should turn a +whole horde loose in the village?' she said. 'And what the plague +are they going to do here?' + +'I've heard say they'll build a bridge across the Terek,' said one +of the girls. + +'And I've been told that they will dig a pit to put the girls in +because they don't love the lads,' said Nazarka, approaching +Ustenka; and he again made a whimsical gesture which set everybody +laughing, and Ergushov, passing by Maryanka, who was next in turn, +began to embrace an old woman. + +'Why don't you hug Maryanka? You should do it to each in turn,' +said Nazarka. + +'No, my old one is sweeter,' shouted the Cossack, kissing the +struggling old woman. + +'You'll throttle me,' she screamed, laughing. + +The tramp of regular footsteps at the other end of the street +interrupted their laughter. Three soldiers in their cloaks, with +their muskets on their shoulders, were marching in step to relieve +guard by the ammunition wagon. + +The corporal, an old cavalry man, looked angrily at the Cossacks +and led his men straight along the road where Lukashka and Nazarka +were standing, so that they should have to get out of the way. +Nazarka moved, but Lukashka only screwed up his eyes and turned +his broad back without moving from his place. + +'People are standing here, so you go round,' he muttered, half +turning his head and tossing it contemptuously in the direction of +the soldiers. + +The soldiers passed by in silence, keeping step regularly along +the dusty road. + +Maryanka began laughing and all the other girls chimed in. + +'What swells!' said Nazarka, 'Just like long-skirted choristers,' +and he walked a few steps down the road imitating the soldiers. + +Again everyone broke into peals of laughter. + +Lukashka came slowly up to Maryanka. + +'And where have you put up the chief?' he asked. + +Maryanka thought for a moment. + +'We've let him have the new hut,' she said. + +'And is he old or young,' asked Lukashka, sitting down beside her. + +'Do you think I've asked?' answered the girl. 'I went to get him +some chikhir and saw him sitting at the window with Daddy Eroshka. +Red-headed he seemed. They've brought a whole cartload of things.' + +And she dropped her eyes. + +'Oh, how glad I am that I got leave from the cordon!' said +Lukashka, moving closer to the girl and looking straight in her +eyes all the time. + +'And have you come for long?' asked Maryanka, smiling slightly. + +'Till the morning. Give me some sunflower seeds,' he said, holding +out his hand. + +Maryanka now smiled outright and unfastened the neckband of her +smock. + +'Don't take them all,' she said. + +'Really I felt so dull all the time without you, I swear I did,' +he said in a calm, restrained whisper, helping himself to some +seeds out of the bosom of the girl's smock, and stooping still +closer over her he continued with laughing eyes to talk to her in +low tones. + +'I won't come, I tell you,' Maryanka suddenly said aloud, leaning +away from him. + +'No really ... what I wanted to say to you, ...' whispered Lukashka. +'By the Heavens! Do come!' + +Maryanka shook her head, but did so with a smile. + +'Nursey Maryanka! Hallo Nursey! Mammy is calling! Supper time!' +shouted Maryanka's little brother, running towards the group. + +'I'm coming,' replied the girl. 'Go, my dear, go alone--I'll come +in a minute.' + +Lukashka rose and raised his cap. + +'I expect I had better go home too, that will be best,' he said, +trying to appear unconcerned but hardly able to repress a smile, +and he disappeared behind the corner of the house. + +Meanwhile night had entirely enveloped the village. Bright stars +were scattered over the dark sky. The streets became dark and +empty. Nazarka remained with the women on the earth-bank and their +laughter was still heard, but Lukashka, having slowly moved away +from the girls, crouched down like a cat and then suddenly started +running lightly, holding his dagger to steady it: not homeward, +however, but towards the cornet's house. Having passed two streets +he turned into a lane and lifting the skirt of his coat sat down +on the ground in the shadow of a fence. 'A regular cornet's +daughter!' he thought about Maryanka. 'Won't even have a lark--the +devil! But just wait a bit.' + +The approaching footsteps of a woman attracted his attention. He +began listening, and laughed all by himself. Maryanka with bowed +head, striking the pales of the fences with a switch, was walking +with rapid regular strides straight towards him. Lukashka rose. +Maryanka started and stopped. + +'What an accursed devil! You frightened me! So you have not gone +home?' she said, and laughed aloud. + +Lukashka put one arm round her and with the other hand raised her +face. 'What I wanted to tell you, by Heaven!' his voice trembled +and broke. + +'What are you talking of, at night time!' answered Maryanka. +'Mother is waiting for me, and you'd better go to your +sweetheart.' + +And freeing herself from his arms she ran away a few steps. When +she had reached the wattle fence of her home she stopped and +turned to the Cossack who was running beside her and still trying +to persuade her to stay a while with him. + +'Well, what do you want to say, midnight-gadabout?' and she again +began laughing. + +'Don't laugh at me, Maryanka! By the Heaven! Well, what if I have +a sweetheart? May the devil take her! Only say the word and now +I'll love you--I'll do anything you wish. Here they are!' and he +jingled the money in his pocket. 'Now we can live splendidly. +Others have pleasures, and I? I get no pleasure from you, Maryanka +dear!' + +The girl did not answer. She stood before him breaking her switch +into little bits with a rapid movement other fingers. + +Lukashka suddenly clenched his teeth and fists. + +'And why keep waiting and waiting? Don't I love you, darling? You +can do what you like with me,' said he suddenly, frowning angrily +and seizing both her hands. + +The calm expression of Maryanka's face and voice did not change. + +'Don't bluster, Lukashka, but listen to me,' she answered, not +pulling away her hands but holding the Cossack at arm's length. +'It's true I am a girl, but you listen to me! It does not depend +on me, but if you love me I'll tell you this. Let go my hands, +I'll tell you without.--I'll marry you, but you'll never get any +nonsense from me,' said Maryanka without turning her face. + +'What, you'll marry me? Marriage does not depend on us. Love me +yourself, Maryanka dear,' said Lukashka, from sullen and furious +becoming again gentle, submissive, and tender, and smiling as he +looked closely into her eyes. + +Maryanka clung to him and kissed him firmly on the lips. + +'Brother dear!' she whispered, pressing him convulsively to her. +Then, suddenly tearing herself away, she ran into the gate of her +house without looking round. + +In spite of the Cossack's entreaties to wait another minute to +hear what he had to say, Maryanka did not stop. + +'Go,' she cried, 'you'll be seen! I do believe that devil, our +lodger, is walking about the yard.' + +'Cornet's daughter,' thought Lukashka. 'She will marry me. +Marriage is all very well, but you just love me!' + +He found Nazarka at Yamka's house, and after having a spree with +him went to Dunayka's house, where, in spite of her not being +faithful to him, he spent the night. + + + + +Chapter XIV + + +It was quite true that Olenin had been walking about the yard when +Maryanka entered the gate, and had heard her say, 'That devil, our +lodger, is walking about.' He had spent that evening with Daddy +Eroshka in the porch of his new lodging. He had had a table, a +samovar, wine, and a candle brought out, and over a cup of tea and +a cigar he listened to the tales the old man told seated on the +threshold at his feet. Though the air was still, the candle +dripped and flickered: now lighting up the post of the porch, now +the table and crockery, now the cropped white head of the old man. +Moths circled round the flame and, shedding the dust of their +wings, fluttered on the table and in the glasses, flew into the +candle flame, and disappeared in the black space beyond. Olenin +and Eroshka had emptied five bottles of chikhir. Eroshka filled +the glasses every time, offering one to Olenin, drinking his +health, and talking untiringly. He told of Cossack life in the old +days: of his rather, 'The Broad', who alone had carried on his +back a boar's carcass weighing three hundredweight, and drank two +pails of chikhir at one sitting. He told of his own days and his +chum Girchik, with whom during the plague he used to smuggle felt +cloaks across the Terek. He told how one morning he had killed two +deer, and about his 'little soul' who used to run to him at the +cordon at night. He told all this so eloquently and picturesquely +that Olenin did not notice how time passed. 'Ah yes, my dear +fellow, you did not know me in my golden days; then I'd have shown +you things. Today it's "Eroshka licks the jug", but then Eroshka +was famous in the whole regiment. Whose was the finest horse? Who +had a Gurda sword? To whom should one go to get a drink? With whom +go on the spree? Who should be sent to the mountains to kill Ahmet +Khan? Why, always Eroshka! Whom did the girls love? Always Eroshka +had to answer for it. Because I was a real brave: a drinker, a +thief (I used to seize herds of horses in the mountains), a +singer; I was a master of every art! There are no Cossacks like +that nowadays. It's disgusting to look at them. When they're that +high [Eroshka held his hand three feet from the ground] they put +on idiotic boots and keep looking at them--that's all the pleasure +they know. Or they'll drink themselves foolish, not like men but +all wrong. And who was I? I was Eroshka, the thief; they knew me +not only in this village but up in the mountains. Tartar princes, +my kunaks, used to come to see me! I used to be everybody's kunak. +If he was a Tartar--with a Tartar; an Armenian--with an Armenian; +a soldier--with a soldier; an officer--with an officer! I didn't +care as long as he was a drinker. He says you should cleanse +yourself from intercourse with the world, not drink with soldiers, +not eat with a Tartar.' + +'Who says all that?' asked Olenin. + +'Why, our teacher! But listen to a Mullah or a Tartar Cadi. He +says, "You unbelieving Giaours, why do you eat pig?" That shows +that everyone has his own law. But I think it's all one. God has +made everything for the joy of man. There is no sin in any of it. +Take example from an animal. It lives in the Tartar's reeds or in +ours. Wherever it happens to go, there is its home! Whatever God +gives it, that it eats! But our people say we have to lick red-hot +plates in hell for that. And I think it's all a fraud,' he added +after a pause. + +'What is a fraud?' asked Olenin. + +'Why, what the preachers say. We had an army captain in Chervlena +who was my kunak: a fine fellow just like me. He was killed in +Chechnya. Well, he used to say that the preachers invent all that +out of their own heads. "When you die the grass will grow on your +grave and that's all!"' The old man laughed. 'He was a desperate +fellow.' + +'And how old are you?' asked Olenin. + +'The Lord only knows! I must be about seventy. When a Tsaritsa +reigned in Russia I was no longer very small. So you can reckon it +out. I must be seventy.' + +'Yes you must, but you are still a fine fellow.' + +'Well, thank Heaven I am healthy, quite healthy, except that a +woman, a witch, has harmed me....' + +'How?' + +'Oh, just harmed me.' + +'And so when you die the grass will grow?' repeated Olenin. + +Eroshka evidently did not wish to express his thought clearly. He +was silent for a while. + +'And what did you think? Drink!' he shouted suddenly, smiling and +handing Olenin some wine. + + + + +Chapter XV + + +'Well, what was I saying?' he continued, trying to remember. 'Yes, +that's the sort of man I am. I am a hunter. There is no hunter to +equal me in the whole army. I will find and show you any animal +and any bird, and what and where. I know it all! I have dogs, and +two guns, and nets, and a screen and a hawk. I have everything, +thank the Lord! If you are not bragging but are a real sportsman, +I'll show you everything. Do you know what a man I am? When I have +found a track--I know the animal. I know where he will lie down +and where he'll drink or wallow. I make myself a perch and sit +there all night watching. What's the good of staying at home? One +only gets into mischief, gets drunk. And here women come and +chatter, and boys shout at me--enough to drive one mad. It's a +different matter when you go out at nightfall, choose yourself a +place, press down the reeds and sit there and stay waiting, like a +jolly fellow. One knows everything that goes on in the woods. One +looks up at the sky: the stars move, you look at them and find out +from them how the time goes. One looks round--the wood is +rustling; one goes on waiting, now there comes a crackling--a boar +comes to rub himself; one listens to hear the young eaglets +screech and then the cocks give voice in the village, or the +geese. When you hear the geese you know it is not yet midnight. +And I know all about it! Or when a gun is fired somewhere far +away, thoughts come to me. One thinks, who is that firing? Is it +another Cossack like myself who has been watching for some animal? +And has he killed it? Or only wounded it so that now the poor +thing goes through the reeds smearing them with its blood all for +nothing? I don't like that! Oh, how I dislike it! Why injure a +beast? You fool, you fool! Or one thinks, "Maybe an abrek has +killed some silly little Cossack." All this passes through one's +mind. And once as I sat watching by the river I saw a cradle +floating down. It was sound except for one corner which was broken +off. Thoughts did come that time! I thought some of your soldiers, +the devils, must have got into a Tartar village and seized the +Chechen women, and one of the devils has killed the little one: +taken it by its legs, and hit its head against a wall. Don't they +do such things? Ah! Men have no souls! And thoughts came to me +that filled me with pity. I thought: they've thrown away the +cradle and driven the wife out, and her brave has taken his gun +and come across to our side to rob us. One watches and thinks. And +when one hears a litter breaking through the thicket, something +begins to knock inside one. Dear one, come this way! "They'll +scent me," one thinks; and one sits and does not stir while one's +heart goes dun! dun! dun! and simply lifts you. Once this spring a +fine litter came near me, I saw something black. "In the name of +the Father and of the Son," and I was just about to fire when she +grunts to her pigs: "Danger, children," she says, "there's a man +here," and off they all ran, breaking through the bushes. And she +had been so close I could almost have bitten her.' + +'How could a sow tell her brood that a man was there?' asked +Olenin. + +'What do you think? You think the beast's a fool? No, he is wiser +than a man though you do call him a pig! He knows everything. Take +this for instance. A man will pass along your track and not notice +it; but a pig as soon as it gets onto your track turns and runs at +once: that shows there is wisdom in him, since he scents your +smell and you don't. And there is this to be said too: you wish to +kill it and it wishes to go about the woods alive. You have one +law and it has another. It is a pig, but it is no worse than you-- +it too is God's creature. Ah, dear! Man is foolish, foolish, +foolish!' The old man repeated this several times and then, +letting his head drop, he sat thinking. + +Olenin also became thoughtful, and descending from the porch with +his hands behind his back began pacing up and down the yard. + +Eroshka, rousing himself, raised his head and began gazing +intently at the moths circling round the flickering flame of the +candle and burning themselves in it. + +'Fool, fool!' he said. 'Where are you flying to? Fool, fool!' He +rose and with his thick fingers began to drive away the moths. + +'You'll burn, little fool! Fly this way, there's plenty of room.' +He spoke tenderly, trying to catch them delicately by their wings +with his thick ringers and then letting them fly again. 'You are +killing yourself and I am sorry for you!' + +He sat a long time chattering and sipping out of the bottle. +Olenin paced up and down the yard. Suddenly he was struck by the +sound of whispering outside the gate. Involuntarily holding his +breath, he heard a woman's laughter, a man's voice, and the sound +of a kiss. Intentionally rustling the grass under his feet he +crossed to the opposite side of the yard, but after a while the +wattle fence creaked. A Cossack in a dark Circassian coat and a +white sheepskin cap passed along the other side of the fence (it +was Luke), and a tall woman with a white kerchief on her head went +past Olenin. 'You and I have nothing to do with one another' was +what Maryanka's firm step gave him to understand. He followed her +with his eyes to the porch of the hut, and he even saw her through +the window take off her kerchief and sit down. And suddenly a +feeling of lonely depression and some vague longings and hopes, +and envy of someone or other, overcame the young man's soul. + +The last lights had been put out in the huts. The last sounds had +died away in the village. The wattle fences and the cattle +gleaming white in the yards, the roofs of the houses and the +stately poplars, all seemed to be sleeping the labourers' healthy +peaceful sleep. Only the incessant ringing voices of frogs from +the damp distance reached the young man. In the east the stars +were growing fewer and fewer and seemed to be melting in the +increasing light, but overhead they were denser and deeper than +before. The old man was dozing with his head on his hand. A cock +crowed in the yard opposite, but Olenin still paced up and down +thinking of something. The sound of a song sung by several voices +reached him and he stepped up to the fence and listened. The +voices of several young Cossacks carolled a merry song, and one +voice was distinguishable among them all by its firm strength. + +'Do you know who is singing there?' said the old man, rousing +himself. 'It is the Brave, Lukashka. He has killed a Chechen and +now he rejoices. And what is there to rejoice at? ... The fool, +the fool!' + +'And have you ever killed people?' asked Olenin. + +'You devil!' shouted the old man. 'What are you asking? One must +not talk so. It is a serious thing to destroy a human being ... +Ah, a very serious thing! Good-bye, my dear fellow. I've eaten my +fill and am drunk,' he said rising. 'Shall I come to-morrow to go +shooting?' + +'Yes, come!' + +'Mind, get up early; if you oversleep you will be fined!' + +'Never fear, I'll be up before you,' answered Olenin. + +The old man left. The song ceased, but one could hear footsteps +and merry talk. A little later the singing broke out again but +farther away, and Eroshka's loud voice chimed in with the other. +'What people, what a life!' thought Olenin with a sigh as he +returned alone to his hut. + + + + +Chapter XVI + + +Daddy Eroshka was a superannuated and solitary Cossack: twenty +years ago his wife had gone over to the Orthodox Church and run +away from him and married a Russian sergeant-major, and he had no +children. He was not bragging when he spoke of himself as having +been the boldest dare-devil in the village when he was young. +Everybody in the regiment knew of his old-time prowess. The death +of more than one Russian, as well as Chechen, lay on his +conscience. He used to go plundering in the mountains, and robbed +the Russians too; and he had twice been in prison. The greater +part of his life was spent in the forests, hunting. There he lived +for days on a crust of bread and drank nothing but water. But on +the other hand, when he was in the village he made merry from +morning to night. After leaving Olenin he slept for a couple of +hours and awoke before it was light. He lay on his bed thinking of +the man he had become acquainted with the evening before. Olenin's +'simplicity' (simplicity in the sense of not grudging him a drink) +pleased him very much, and so did Olenin himself. He wondered why +the Russians were all 'simple' and so rich, and why they were +educated, and yet knew nothing. He pondered on these questions and +also considered what he might get out of Olenin. + +Daddy Eroshka's hut was of a good size and not old, but the +absence of a woman was very noticeable in it. Contrary to the +usual cleanliness of the Cossacks, the whole of this hut was +filthy and exceedingly untidy. A blood-stained coat had been +thrown on the table, half a dough-cake lay beside a plucked and +mangled crow with which to feed the hawk. Sandals of raw hide, a +gun, a dagger, a little bag, wet clothes, and sundry rags lay +scattered on the benches. In a comer stood a tub with stinking +water, in which another pair of sandals were being steeped, and +near by was a gun and a hunting-screen. On the floor a net had +been thrown down and several dead pheasants lay there, while a hen +tied by its leg was walking about near the table pecking among the +dirt. In the unheated oven stood a broken pot with some kind of +milky liquid. On the top of the oven a falcon was screeching and +trying to break the cord by which it was tied, and a moulting hawk +sat quietly on the edge of the oven, looking askance at the hen +and occasionally bowing its head to right and left. Daddy Eroshka +himself, in his shirt, lay on his back on a short bed rigged up +between the wall and the oven, with his strong legs raised and his +feet on the oven. He was picking with his thick fingers at the +scratches left on his hands by the hawk, which he was accustomed +to carry without wearing gloves. The whole room, especially near +the old man, was filled with that strong but not unpleasant +mixture of smells that he always carried about with him. + +'Uyde-ma, Daddy?' (Is Daddy in?) came through the window in a +sharp voice, which he at once recognized as Lukashka's. + +'Uyde, Uyde, Uyde. I am in!' shouted the old man. 'Come in, +neighbour Mark, Luke Mark. Come to see Daddy? On your way to the +cordon?' + +At the sound of his master's shout the hawk flapped his wings and +pulled at his cord. + +The old man was fond of Lukashka, who was the only man he excepted +from his general contempt for the younger generation of Cossacks. +Besides that, Lukashka and his mother, as near neighbours, often +gave the old man wine, clotted cream, and other home produce which +Eroshka did not possess. Daddy Eroshka, who all his life had +allowed himself to get carried away, always explained his +infatuations from a practical point of view. 'Well, why not?' he +used to say to himself. 'I'll give them some fresh meat, or a +bird, and they won't forget Daddy: they'll sometimes bring a cake +or a piece of pie.' + +'Good morning. Mark! I am glad to see you,' shouted the old man +cheerfully, and quickly putting down his bare feet he jumped off +his bed and walked a step or two along the creaking floor, looked +down at his out-turned toes, and suddenly, amused by the +appearance of his feet, smiled, stamped with his bare heel on the +ground, stamped again, and then performed a funny dance-step. +'That's clever, eh?' he asked, his small eyes glistening. Lukashka +smiled faintly. 'Going back to the cordon?' asked the old man. + +'I have brought the chikhir I promised you when we were at the +cordon.' + +'May Christ save you!' said the old man, and he took up the +extremely wide trousers that were lying on the floor, and his +beshmet, put them on, fastened a strap round his waist, poured +some water from an earthenware pot over his hands, wiped them on +the old trousers, smoothed his beard with a bit of comb, and +stopped in front of Lukashka. 'Ready,' he said. + +Lukashka fetched a cup, wiped it and filled it with wine, and then +handed it to the old man. + +'Your health! To the Father and the Son!' said the old man, +accepting the wine with solemnity. 'May you have what you desire, +may you always be a hero, and obtain a cross.' + +Lukashka also drank a little after repeating a prayer, and then +put the wine on the table. The old man rose and brought out some +dried fish which he laid on the threshold, where he beat it with a +stick to make it tender; then, having put it with his horny hands +on a blue plate (his only one), he placed it on the table. + +'I have all I want. I have victuals, thank God!' he said proudly. +'Well, and what of Mosev?' he added. + +Lukashka, evidently wishing to know the old man's opinion, told +him how the officer had taken the gun from him. + +'Never mind the gun,' said the old man. 'If you don't give the gun +you will get no reward.' + +'But they say. Daddy, it's little reward a fellow gets when he is +not yet a mounted Cossack; and the gun is a fine one, a Crimean, +worth eighty rubles.' + +'Eh, let it go! I had a dispute like that with an officer, he +wanted my horse. "Give it me and you'll be made a cornet," says +he. I wouldn't, and I got nothing!' + +'Yes, Daddy, but you see I have to buy a horse; and they say you +can't get one the other side of the river under fifty rubles, and +mother has not yet sold our wine.' + +'Eh, we didn't bother,' said the old man; 'when Daddy Eroshka was +your age he already stole herds of horses from the Nogay folk and +drove them across the Terek. Sometimes we'd give a fine horse for +a quart of vodka or a cloak.' + +'Why so cheap?' asked Lukashka. + +'You're a fool, a fool, Mark,' said the old man contemptuously. +'Why, that's what one steals for, so as not to be stingy! As for +you, I suppose you haven't so much as seen how one drives off a +herd of horses? Why don't you speak?' + +'What's one to say. Daddy?' replied Lukashka. 'It seems we are not +the same sort of men as you were.' + +'You're a fool. Mark, a fool! "Not the same sort of men!"' +retorted the old man, mimicking the Cossack lad. 'I was not that +sort of Cossack at your age.' + +'How's that?' asked Lukashka. + +The old man shook his head contemptuously. + +'Daddy Eroshka was simple; he did not grudge anything! That's why +I was kunak with all Chechnya. A kunak would come to visit me and +I'd make him drunk with vodka and make him happy and put him to +sleep with me, and when I went to see him I'd take him a present-- +a dagger! That's the way it is done, and not as you do nowadays: +the only amusement lads have now is to crack seeds and spit out +the shells!' the old man finished contemptuously, imitating the +present-day Cossacks cracking seeds and spitting out the shells. + +'Yes, I know,' said Lukashka; 'that's so!' + +'If you wish to be a fellow of the right sort, be a brave and not +a peasant! Because even a peasant can buy a horse--pay the money +and take the horse.' + +They were silent for a while. + +'Well, of course it's dull both in the village and the cordon, +Daddy: but there's nowhere one can go for a bit of sport. All our +fellows are so timid. Take Nazarka. The other day when we went to +the Tartar village, Girey Khan asked us to come to Nogay to take +some horses, but no one went, and how was I to go alone?' + +'And what of Daddy? Do you think I am quite dried up? ... No, I'm +not dried up. Let me have a horse and I'll be off to Nogay at +once.' + +'What's the good of talking nonsense!' said Luke. 'You'd better +tell me what to do about Girey Khan. He says, "Only bring horses +to the Terek, and then even if you bring a whole stud I'll find a +place for them." You see he's also a shaven-headed Tartar--how's +one to believe him?' + +'You may trust Girey Khan, all his kin were good people. His +father too was a faithful kunak. But listen to Daddy and I won't +teach you wrong: make him take an oath, then it will be all right. +And if you go with him, have your pistol ready all the same, +especially when it comes to dividing up the horses. I was nearly +killed that way once by a Chechen. I wanted ten rubles from him +for a horse. Trusting is all right, but don't go to sleep without +a gun.' Lukashka listened attentively to the old man. + +'I say. Daddy, have you any stone-break grass?' he asked after a +pause. + +'No, I haven't any, but I'll teach you how to get it. You're a +good lad and won't forget the old man.... Shall I tell you?' + +'Tell me, Daddy.' + +'You know a tortoise? She's a devil, the tortoise is!' + +'Of course I know!' + +'Find her nest and fence it round so that she can't get in. Well, +she'll come, go round it, and then will go off to find the stone- +break grass and will bring some along and destroy the fence. +Anyhow next morning come in good time, and where the fence is +broken there you'll find the stone-break grass lying. Take it +wherever you like. No lock and no bar will be able to stop you.' + +'Have you tried it yourself. Daddy?' + +'As for trying, I have not tried it, but I was told of it by good +people. I used only one charm: that was to repeat the Pilgrim +rhyme when mounting my horse; and no one ever killed me!' + +'What is the Pilgrim rhyme. Daddy?' + +'What, don't you know it? Oh, what people! You're right to ask +Daddy. Well, listen, and repeat after me: + +'Hail! Ye, living in Sion, This is your King, Our steeds we shall +sit on, Sophonius is weeping. Zacharias is speaking, Father +Pilgrim, Mankind ever loving.' + +'Kind ever loving,' the old man repeated. 'Do you know it now? Try +it.' + +Lukashka laughed. + +'Come, Daddy, was it that that hindered their killing you? Maybe +it just happened so!' + +'You've grown too clever! You learn it all, and say it. It will do +you no harm. Well, suppose you have sung "Pilgrim", it's all +right,' and the old man himself began laughing. 'But just one +thing, Luke, don't you go to Nogay!' + +'Why?' + +'Times have changed. You are not the same men. You've become +rubbishy Cossacks! And see how many Russians have come down on us! +You'd get to prison. Really, give it up! Just as if you could! Now +Girchik and I, we used...' + +And the old man was about to begin one of his endless tales, but +Lukashka glanced at the window and interrupted him. + +'It is quite light. Daddy. It's time to be off. Look us up some +day.' + +'May Christ save you! I'll go to the officer; I promised to take +him out shooting. He seems a good fellow.' + + + + +Chapter XVII + + +From Eroshka's hut Lukashka went home. As he returned, the dewy +mists were rising from the ground and enveloped the village. In +various places the cattle, though out of sight, could be heard +beginning to stir. The cocks called to one another with increasing +frequency and insistence. The air was becoming more transparent, +and the villagers were getting up. Not till he was close to it +could Lukishka discern the fence of his yard, all wet with dew, +the porch of the hut, and the open shed. From the misty yard he +heard the sound of an axe chopping wood. Lukashka entered the hut. +His mother was up, and stood at the oven throwing wood into it. +His little sister was still lying in bed asleep. + +'Well, Lukashka, had enough holiday-making?' asked his mother +softly. 'Where did you spend the night?' + +'I was in the village,' replied her son reluctantly, reaching for +his musket, which he drew from its cover and examined carefully. + +His mother swayed her head. + +Lukashka poured a little gunpowder onto the pan, took out a little +bag from which he drew some empty cartridge cases which he began +filling, carefully plugging each one with a ball wrapped in a rag. +Then, having tested the loaded cartridges with his teeth and +examined them, he put down the bag. + +'I say, Mother, I told you the bags wanted mending; have they been +done?' he asked. + +'Oh yes, our dumb girl was mending something last night. Why, is +it time for you to be going back to the cordon? I haven't seen +anything of you!' + +'Yes, as soon as I have got ready I shall have to go,' answered +Lukashka, tying up the gunpowder. 'And where is our dumb one? +Outside?' + +'Chopping wood, I expect. She kept fretting for you. "I shall not +see him at all!" she said. She puts her hand to her face like +this, and clicks her tongue and presses her hands to her heart as +much as to say--"sorry." Shall I call her in? She understood all +about the abrek.' + +'Call her,' said Lukashka. 'And I had some tallow there; bring it: +I must grease my sword.' + +The old woman went out, and a few minutes later Lukashka's dumb +sister came up the creaking steps and entered the hut. She was six +years older than her brother and would have been extremely like +him had it not been for the dull and coarsely changeable +expression (common to all deaf and dumb people) of her face. She +wore a coarse smock all patched; her feet were bare and muddy, and +on her head she had an old blue kerchief. Her neck, arms, and face +were sinewy like a peasant's. Her clothing and her whole +appearance indicated that she always did the hard work of a man. +She brought in a heap of logs which she threw down by the oven. +Then she went up to her brother, and with a joyful smile which +made her whole face pucker up, touched him on the shoulder and +began making rapid signs to him with her hands, her face, and +whole body. + +'That's right, that's right, Stepka is a trump!' answered the +brother, nodding. 'She's fetched everything and mended everything, +she's a trump! Here, take this for it!' He brought out two pieces +of gingerbread from his pocket and gave them to her. + +The dumb woman's face flushed with pleasure, and she began making +a weird noise for joy. Having seized the gingerbread she began to +gesticulate still more rapidly, frequently pointing in one +direction and passing her thick finger over her eyebrows and her +face. Lukashka understood her and kept nodding, while he smiled +slightly. She was telling him to give the girls dainties, and that +the girls liked him, and that one girl, Maryanka--the best of them +all--loved him. She indicated Maryanka by rapidly pointing in the +direction of Maryanka's home and to her own eyebrows and face, and +by smacking her lips and swaying her head. 'Loves' she expressed +by pressing her hands to her breast, kissing her hand, and +pretending to embrace someone. Their mother returned to the hut, +and seeing what her dumb daughter was saying, smiled and shook her +head. Her daughter showed her the gingerbread and again made the +noise which expressed joy. + +'I told Ulitka the other day that I'd send a matchmaker to them,' +said the mother. 'She took my words well.' + +Lukashka looked silently at his mother. + +'But how about selling the wine, mother? I need a horse.' + +'I'll cart it when I have time. I must get the barrels ready,' +said the mother, evidently not wishing her son to meddle in +domestic matters. 'When you go out you'll find a bag in the +passage. I borrowed from the neighbours and got something for you +to take back to the cordon; or shall I put it in your saddle-bag?' + +'All right,' answered Lukashka. 'And if Girey Khan should come +across the river send him to me at the cordon, for I shan't get +leave again for a long time now; I have some business with him.' + +He began to get ready to start. + +'I will send him on,' said the old women. 'It seems you have been +spreeing at Yamka's all the time. I went out in the night to see +the cattle, and I think it was your voice I heard singing songs.' + +Lukashka did not reply, but went out into the passage, threw the +bags over his shoulder, tucked up the skirts of his coat, took his +musket, and then stopped for a moment on the threshold. + +'Good-bye, mother!' he said as he closed the gate behind him. +'Send me a small barrel with Nazarka. I promised it to the lads, +and he'll call for it.' + +'May Christ keep you, Lukashka. God be with you! I'll send you +some, some from the new barrel,' said the old woman, going to the +fence: 'But listen,' she added, leaning over the fence. + +The Cossack stopped. + +'You've been making merry here; well, that's all right. Why should +not a young man amuse himself? God has sent you luck and that's +good. But now look out and mind, my son. Don't you go and get into +mischief. Above all, satisfy your superiors: one has to! And I +will sell the wine and find money for a horse and will arrange a +match with the girl for you.' + +'All right, all right!' answered her son, frowning. + +His deaf sister shouted to attract his attention. She pointed to +her head and the palm of her hand, to indicate the shaved head of +a Chechen. Then she frowned, and pretending to aim with a gun, she +shrieked and began rapidly humming and shaking her head. This +meant that Lukashka should kill another Chechen. + +Lukashka understood. He smiled, and shifting the gun at his back +under his cloak stepped lightly and rapidly, and soon disappeared +in the thick mist. + +The old woman, having stood a little while at the gate, returned +silently to the hut and immediately began working. + + + + +Chapter XVIII + + +Lukasha returned to the cordon and at the same time Daddy Eroshka +whistled to his dogs and, climbing over his wattle fence, went to +Olenin's lodging, passing by the back of the houses (he disliked +meeting women before going out hunting or shooting). He found +Olenin still asleep, and even Vanyusha, though awake, was still in +bed and looking round the room considering whether it was not time +to get up, when Daddy Eroshka, gun on shoulder and in full +hunter's trappings, opened the door. + +'A cudgel!' he shouted in his deep voice. 'An alarm! The Chechens +are upon us! Ivan! get the samovar ready for your master, and get +up yourself--quick,' cried the old man. 'That's our way, my good +man! Why even the girls are already up! Look out of the window. +See, she's going for water and you're still sleeping!' + +Olenin awoke and jumped up, feeling fresh and lighthearted at the +sight of the old man and at the sound of his voice. + +'Quick, Vanyusha, quick!' he cried. + +'Is that the way you go hunting?' said the old man. 'Others are +having their breakfast and you are asleep! Lyam! Here!' he called +to his dog. 'Is your gun ready?' he shouted, as loud as if a whole +crowd were in the hut. + +'Well, it's true I'm guilty, but it can't be helped! The powder, +Vanyusha, and the wads!' said Olenin. + +'A fine!' shouted the old man. + +'Du tay voulay vou?' asked Vanyusha, grinning. + +'You're not one of us--your gabble is not like our speech, you +devil!' the old man shouted at Vanyusha, showing the stumps of his +teeth. + +'A first offence must be forgiven,' said Olenin playfully, drawing +on his high boots. + +'The first offence shall be forgiven,' answered Eroshka, 'but if +you oversleep another time you'll be fined a pail of chikhir. When +it gets warmer you won't find the deer.' + +'And even if we do find him he is wiser than we are,' said Olenin, +repeating the words spoken by the old man the evening before, 'and +you can't deceive him!' + +'Yes, laugh away! You kill one first, and then you may talk. Now +then, hurry up! Look, there's the master himself coming to see +you,' added Eroshka, looking out of the window. 'Just see how he's +got himself up. He's put on a new coat so that you should see that +he's an officer. Ah, these people, these people!' + +Sure enough Vanyusha came in and announced that the master of the +house wished to see Olenin. + +'L'arjan!' he remarked profoundly, to forewarn his master of the +meaning of this visitation. Following him, the master of the house +in a new Circassian coat with an officer's stripes on the +shoulders and with polished boots (quite exceptional among +Cossacks) entered the room, swaying from side to side, and +congratulated his lodger on his safe arrival. + +The cornet, Elias Vasilich, was an educated Cossack. He had been +to Russia proper, was a regimental schoolteacher, and above all he +was noble. He wished to appear noble, but one could not help +feeling beneath his grotesque pretence of polish, his affectation, +his self-confidence, and his absurd way of speaking, he was just +the same as Daddy Eroshka. This could also be clearly seen by his +sunburnt face and his hands and his red nose. Olenin asked him to +sit down. + +'Good morning. Father Elias Vasilich,' said Eroshka, rising with +(or so it seemed to Olenin) an ironically low bow. + +'Good morning. Daddy. So you're here already,' said the cornet, +with a careless nod. + +The cornet was a man of about forty, with a grey pointed beard, +skinny and lean, but handsome and very fresh-looking for his age. +Having come to see Olenin he was evidently afraid of being taken +for an ordinary Cossack, and wanted to let Olenin feel his +importance from the first. + +'That's our Egyptian Nimrod,' he remarked, addressing Olenin and +pointing to the old man with a self-satisfied smile. 'A mighty +hunter before the Lord! He's our foremost man on every hand. +You've already been pleased to get acquainted with him.' + +Daddy Eroshka gazed at his feet in their shoes of wet raw hide and +shook his head thoughtfully at the cornet's ability and learning, +and muttered to himself: 'Gyptian Nimvrod! What things he +invents!' + +'Yes, you see we mean to go hunting,' answered Olenin. + +'Yes, sir, exactly,' said the cornet, 'but I have a small business +with you.' + +'What do you want?' + +'Seeing that you are a gentleman,' began the cornet, 'and as I may +understand myself to be in the rank of an officer too, and +therefore we may always progressively negotiate, as gentlemen do.' +(He stopped and looked with a smile at Olenin and at the old man.) +'But if you have the desire with my consent, then, as my wife is a +foolish woman of our class, she could not quite comprehend your +words of yesterday's date. Therefore my quarters might be let for +six rubles to the Regimental Adjutant, without the stables; but I +can always avert that from myself free of charge. But, as you +desire, therefore I, being myself of an officer's rank, can come +to an agreement with you in everything personally, as an +inhabitant of this district, not according to our customs, but can +maintain the conditions in every way....' + +'Speaks clearly!' muttered the old man. + +The cornet continued in the same strain for a long time. At last, +not without difficulty, Olenin gathered that the cornet wished to +let his rooms to him, Olenin, for six rubles a month. The latter +gladly agreed to this, and offered his visitor a glass of tea. The +cornet declined it. + +'According to our silly custom we consider it a sort of sin to +drink out of a "worldly" tumbler,' he said. 'Though, of course, +with my education I may understand, but my wife from her human +weakness...' + +'Well then, will you have some tea?' + +'If you will permit me, I will bring my own particular glass,' +answered the cornet, and stepped out into the porch. + +'Bring me my glass!' he cried. + +In a few minutes the door opened and a young sunburnt arm in a +print sleeve thrust itself in, holding a tumbler in the hand. The +cornet went up, took it, and whispered something to his daughter. +Olenin poured tea for the cornet into the latter's own +'particular' glass, and for Eroshka into a 'worldly' glass. + +'However, I do not desire to detain you,' said the cornet, +scalding his lips and emptying his tumbler. 'I too have a great +liking for fishing, and I am here, so to say, only on leave of +absence for recreation from my duties. I too have the desire to +tempt fortune and see whether some Gifts of the Terek may not fall +to my share. I hope you too will come and see us and have a drink +of our wine, according to the custom of our village,' he added. + +The cornet bowed, shook hands with Olenin, and went out. While +Olenin was getting ready, he heard the cornet giving orders to his +family in an authoritative and sensible tone, and a few minutes +later he saw him pass by the window in a tattered coat with his +trousers rolled up to his knees and a fishing net over his +shoulder. + +'A rascal!' said Daddy Eroshka, emptying his 'worldly' tumbler. +'And will you really pay him six rubles? Was such a thing ever +heard of? They would let you the best hut in the village for two +rubles. What a beast! Why, I'd let you have mine for three!' + +'No, I'll remain here,' said Olenin. + +'Six rubles! ... Clearly it's a fool's money. Eh, eh, eh! answered +the old man. 'Let's have some chikhir, Ivan!' + +Having had a snack and a drink of vodka to prepare themselves for +the road, Olenin and the old man went out together before eight +o'clock. + +At the gate they came up against a wagon to which a pair of oxen +were harnessed. With a white kerchief tied round her head down to +her eyes, a coat over her smock, and wearing high boots, Maryanka +with a long switch in her hand was dragging the oxen by a cord +tied to their horns. + +'Mammy,' said the old man, pretending that he was going to seize +her. + +Maryanka nourished her switch at him and glanced merrily at them +both with her beautiful eyes. + +Olenin felt still more light-hearted. + +'Now then, come on, come on,' he said, throwing his gun on his +shoulder and conscious of the girl's eyes upon him. + +'Gee up!' sounded Maryanka's voice behind them, followed by the +creak of the moving wagon. + +As long as their road lay through the pastures at the back of the +village Eroshka went on talking. He could not forget the cornet +and kept on abusing him. + +'Why are you so angry with him?' asked Olenin. + +'He's stingy. I don't like it,' answered the old man. 'He'll leave +it all behind when he dies! Then who's he saving up for? He's +built two houses, and he's got a second garden from his brother by +a law-suit. And in the matter of papers what a dog he is! They +come to him from other villages to fill up documents. As he writes +it out, exactly so it happens. He gets it quite exact. But who is +he saving for? He's only got one boy and the girl; when she's +married who'll be left?' + +'Well then, he's saving up for her dowry,' said Olenin. + +'What dowry? The girl is sought after, she's a fine girl. But he's +such a devil that he must yet marry her to a rich fellow. He wants +to get a big price for her. There's Luke, a Cossack, a neighbour +and a nephew of mine, a fine lad. It's he who killed the Chechen-- +he has been wooing her for a long time, but he hasn't let him have +her. He's given one excuse, and another, and a third. "The girl's +too young," he says. But I know what he is thinking. He wants to +keep them bowing to him. He's been acting shamefully about that +girl. Still, they will get her for Lukashka, because he is the +best Cossack in the village, a brave, who has killed an abrek and +will be rewarded with a cross.' + +'But how about this? When I was walking up and down the yard last +night, I saw my landlord's daughter and some Cossack kissing,' +said Olenin. + +'You're pretending!' cried the old man, stopping. + +'On my word,' said Olenin. + +'Women are the devil,' said Eroshka pondering. 'But what Cossack +was it?' + +'I couldn't see.' + +'Well, what sort of a cap had he, a white one?' + +'Yes.' + +'And a red coat? About your height?' + +'No, a bit taller.' + +'It's he!' and Eroshka burst out laughing. 'It's himself, it's +Mark. He is Luke, but I call him Mark for a joke. His very self! I +love him. I was just such a one myself. What's the good of minding +them? My sweetheart used to sleep with her mother and her sister- +in-law, but I managed to get in. She used to sleep upstairs; that +witch her mother was a regular demon; it's awful how she hated me. +Well, I used to come with a chum, Girchik his name was. We'd come +under her window and I'd climb on his shoulders, push up the +window and begin groping about. She used to sleep just there on a +bench. Once I woke her up and she nearly called out. She hadn't +recognized me. "Who is there?" she said, and I could not answer. +Her mother was even beginning to stir, but I took off my cap and +shoved it over her mouth; and she at once knew it by a seam in it, +and ran out to me. I used not to want anything then. She'd bring +along clotted cream and grapes and everything,' added Eroshka (who +always explained things practically), 'and she wasn't the only +one. It was a life!' + +'And what now?' + +'Now we'll follow the dog, get a pheasant to settle on a tree, and +then you may fire.' + +'Would you have made up to Maryanka?' + +'Attend to the dogs. I'll tell you tonight,' said the old man, +pointing to his favourite dog, Lyam. + +After a pause they continued talking, while they went about a +hundred paces. Then the old man stopped again and pointed to a +twig that lay across the path. + +'What do you think of that?' he said. 'You think it's nothing? +It's bad that this stick is lying so.' + +'Why is it bad?' + +He smiled. + +'Ah, you don't know anything. Just listen to me. When a stick lies +like that don't you step across it, but go round it or throw it +off the path this way, and say "Father and Son and Holy Ghost," +and then go on with God's blessing. Nothing will happen to you. +That's what the old men used to teach me.' + +'Come, what rubbish!' said Olenin. 'You'd better tell me more +about Maryanka. Does she carry on with Lukashka?' + +'Hush ... be quiet now!' the old man again interrupted in a +whisper: 'just listen, we'll go round through the forest.' + +And the old man, stepping quietly in his soft shoes, led the way +by a narrow path leading into the dense, wild, overgrown forest. +Now and again with a frown he turned to look at Olenin, who +rustled and clattered with his heavy boots and, carrying his gun +carelessly, several times caught the twigs of trees that grew +across the path. + +'Don't make a noise. Step softly, soldier!' the old man whispered +angrily. + +There was a feeling in the air that the sun had risen. The mist +was dissolving but it still enveloped the tops of the trees. The +forest looked terribly high. At every step the aspect changed: +what had appeared like a tree proved to be a bush, and a reed +looked like a tree. + + + + +Chapter XIX + + +The mist had partly lifted, showing the wet reed thatches, and was +now turning into dew that moistened the road and the grass beside +the fence. Smoke rose everywhere in clouds from the chimneys. The +people were going out of the village, some to their work, some to +the river, and some to the cordon. The hunters walked together +along the damp, grass-grown path. The dogs, wagging their tails +and looking at their masters, ran on both sides of them. Myriads +of gnats hovered in the air and pursued the hunters, covering +their backs, eyes, and hands. The air was fragrant with the grass +and with the dampness of the forest. Olenin continually looked +round at the ox-cart in which Maryanka sat urging on the oxen with +a long switch. + +It was calm. The sounds from the village, audible at first, now no +longer reached the sportsmen. Only the brambles cracked as the +dogs ran under them, and now and then birds called to one another. +Olenin knew that danger lurked in the forest, that abreks always +hid in such places. But he knew too that in the forest, for a man +on foot, a gun is a great protection. Not that he was afraid, but +he felt that another in his place might be; and looking into the +damp misty forest and listening to the rare and faint sounds with +strained attention, he changed his hold on his gun and experienced +a pleasant feeling that was new to him. Daddy Eroshka went in +front, stopping and carefully scanning every puddle where an +animal had left a double track, and pointing it out to Olenin. He +hardly spoke at all and only occasionally made remarks in a +whisper. The track they were following had once been made by +wagons, but the grass had long overgrown it. The elm and plane- +tree forest on both sides of them was so dense and overgrown with +creepers that it was impossible to see anything through it. Nearly +every tree was enveloped from top to bottom with wild grape vines, +and dark bramble bushes covered the ground thickly. Every little +glade was overgrown with blackberry bushes and grey feathery +reeds. In places, large hoof-prints and small funnel-shaped +pheasant-trails led from the path into the thicket. The vigour of +the growth of this forest, untrampled by cattle, struck Olenin at +every turn, for he had never seen anything like it. This forest, +the danger, the old man and his mysterious whispering, Maryanka +with her virile upright bearing, and the mountains--all this +seemed to him like a dream. + +'A pheasant has settled,' whispered the old man, looking round and +pulling his cap over his face--'Cover your mug! A pheasant!' he +waved his arm angrily at Olenin and pushed forward almost on all +fours. 'He don't like a man's mug.' + +Olenin was still behind him when the old man stopped and began +examining a tree. A cock-pheasant on the tree clucked at the dog +that was barking at it, and Olenin saw the pheasant; but at that +moment a report, as of a cannon, came from Eroshka's enormous gun, +the bird fluttered up and, losing some feathers, fell to the +ground. Coming up to the old man Olenin disturbed another, and +raising his gun he aimed and fired. The pheasant flew swiftly up +and then, catching at the branches as he fell, dropped like a +stone to the ground. + +'Good man!' the old man (who could not hit a flying bird) shouted, +laughing. + +Having picked up the pheasants they went on. Olenin, excited by +the exercise and the praise, kept addressing remarks to the old +man. + +'Stop! Come this way,' the old man interrupted. 'I noticed the +track of deer here yesterday.' + +After they had turned into the thicket and gone some three hundred +paces they scrambled through into a glade overgrown with reeds and +partly under water. Olenin failed to keep up with the old huntsman +and presently Daddy Eroshka, some twenty paces in front, stooped +down, nodding and beckoning with his arm. On coming up with him +Olenin saw a man's footprint to which the old man was pointing. + +'D'you see?' + +'Yes, well?' said Olenin, trying to speak as calmly as he could. +'A man's footstep!' + +Involuntarily a thought of Cooper's Pathfinder and of abreks +flashed through Olenin's mind, but noticing the mysterious manner +with which the old man moved on, he hesitated to question him and +remained in doubt whether this mysteriousness was caused by fear +of danger or by the sport. + +'No, it's my own footprint,' the old man said quietly, and pointed +to some grass under which the track of an animal was just +perceptible. + +The old man went on; and Olenin kept up with him. + +Descending to lower ground some twenty paces farther on they came +upon a spreading pear-tree, under which, on the black earth, lay +the fresh dung of some animal. + +The spot, all covered over with wild vines, was like a cosy +arbour, dark and cool. + +'He's been here this morning,' said the old man with a sigh; 'the +lair is still damp, quite fresh.' + +Suddenly they heard a terrible crash in the forest some ten paces +from where they stood. They both started and seized their guns, +but they could see nothing and only heard the branches breaking. +The rhythmical rapid thud of galloping was heard for a moment and +then changed into a hollow rumble which resounded farther and +farther off, re-echoing in wider and wider circles through the +forest. Olenin felt as though something had snapped in his heart. +He peered carefully but vainly into the green thicket and then +turned to the old man. Daddy Eroshka with his gun pressed to his +breast stood motionless; his cap was thrust backwards, his eyes +gleamed with an unwonted glow, and his open mouth, with its worn +yellow teeth, seemed to have stiffened in that position. + +'A homed stag!' he muttered, and throwing down his gun in despair +he began pulling at his grey beard, 'Here it stood. We should have +come round by the path.... Fool! fool!' and he gave his beard an +angry tug. Fool! Pig!' he repeated, pulling painfully at his own +beard. Through the forest something seemed to fly away in the +mist, and ever farther and farther off was heard the sound of the +flight of the stag. + +It was already dusk when, hungry, tired, but full of vigour, +Olenin returned with the old man. Dinner was ready. He ate and +drank with the old man till he felt warm and merry. Olenin then +went out into the porch. Again, to the west, the mountains rose +before his eyes. Again the old man told his endless stories of +hunting, of abreks, of sweethearts, and of all that free and +reckless life. Again the fair Maryanka went in and out and across +the yard, her beautiful powerful form outlined by her smock. + + + + +Chapter XX + + +The next day Olenin went alone to the spot where he and the old +man startled the stag. Instead of passing round through the gate +he climbed over the prickly hedge, as everybody else did, and +before he had had time to pull out the thorns that had caught in +his coat, his dog, which had run on in front, started two +pheasants. He had hardly stepped among the briers when the +pheasants began to rise at every step (the old man had not shown +him that place the day before as he meant to keep it for shooting +from behind the screen). Olenin fired twelve times and killed five +pheasants, but clambering after them through the briers he got so +fatigued that he was drenched with perspiration. He called off his +dog, uncocked his gun, put in a bullet above the small shot, and +brushing away the mosquitoes with the wide sleeve of his +Circassian coat he went slowly to the spot where they had been the +day before. It was however impossible to keep back the dog, who +found trails on the very path, and Olenin killed two more +pheasants, so that after being detained by this it was getting +towards noon before he began to find the place he was looking for. + +The day was perfectly clear, calm, and hot. The morning moisture +had dried up even in the forest, and myriads of mosquitoes +literally covered his face, his back, and his arms. His dog had +turned from black to grey, its back being covered with mosquitoes, +and so had Olenin's coat through which the insects thrust their +stings. Olenin was ready to run away from them and it seemed to +him that it was impossible to live in this country in the summer. +He was about to go home, but remembering that other people managed +to endure such pain he resolved to bear it and gave himself up to +be devoured. And strange to say, by noontime the feeling became +actually pleasant. He even felt that without this mosquito-filled +atmosphere around him, and that mosquito-paste mingled with +perspiration which his hand smeared over his face, and that +unceasing irritation all over his body, the forest would lose for +him some of its character and charm. These myriads of insects were +so well suited to that monstrously lavish wild vegetation, these +multitudes of birds and beasts which filled the forest, this dark +foliage, this hot scented air, these runlets filled with turbid +water which everywhere soaked through from the Terek and gurgled +here and there under the overhanging leaves, that the very thing +which had at first seemed to him dreadful and intolerable now +seemed pleasant. After going round the place where yesterday they +had found the animal and not finding anything, he felt inclined to +rest. The sun stood right above the forest and poured its +perpendicular rays down on his back and head whenever he came out +into a glade or onto the road. The seven heavy pheasants dragged +painfully at his waist. Having found the traces of yesterday's +stag he crept under a bush into the thicket just where the stag +had lain, and lay down in its lair. He examined the dark foliage +around him, the place marked by the stag's perspiration and +yesterday's dung, the imprint of the stag's knees, the bit of +black earth it had kicked up, and his own footprints of the day +before. He felt cool and comfortable and did not think of or wish +for anything. And suddenly he was overcome by such a strange +feeling of causeless joy and of love for everything, that from an +old habit of his childhood he began crossing himself and thanking +someone. Suddenly, with extraordinary clearness, he thought: 'Here +am I, Dmitri Olenin, a being quite distinct from every other +being, now lying all alone Heaven only knows where--where a stag +used to live--an old stag, a beautiful stag who perhaps had never +seen a man, and in a place where no human being has ever sat or +thought these thoughts. Here I sit, and around me stand old and +young trees, one of them festooned with wild grape vines, and +pheasants are fluttering, driving one another about and perhaps +scenting their murdered brothers.' He felt his pheasants, examined +them, and wiped the warm blood off his hand onto his coat. +'Perhaps the jackals scent them and with dissatisfied faces go off +in another direction: above me, flying in among the leaves which +to them seem enormous islands, mosquitoes hang in the air and +buzz: one, two, three, four, a hundred, a thousand, a million +mosquitoes, and all of them buzz something or other and each one +of them is separate from all else and is just such a separate +Dmitri Olenin as I am myself.' He vividly imagined what the +mosquitoes buzzed: 'This way, this way, lads! Here's some one we +can eat!' They buzzed and stuck to him. And it was clear to him +that he was not a Russian nobleman, a member of Moscow society, +the friend and relation of so-and-so and so-and-so, but just such +a mosquito, or pheasant, or deer, as those that were now living +all around him. 'Just as they, just as Daddy Eroshka, I shall live +awhile and die, and as he says truly: + +"grass will grow and nothing more". + +'But what though the grass does grow?' he continued thinking. +'Still I must live and be happy, because happiness is all I +desire. Never mind what I am--an animal like all the rest, above +whom the grass will grow and nothing more; or a frame in which a +bit of the one God has been set,--still I must live in the very +best way. How then must I live to be happy, and why was I not +happy before?' And he began to recall his former life and he felt +disgusted with himself. He appeared to himself to have been +terribly exacting and selfish, though he now saw that all the +while he really needed nothing for himself. And he looked round at +the foliage with the light shining through it, at the setting sun +and the clear sky, and he felt just as happy as before. 'Why am I +happy, and what used I to live for?' thought he. 'How much I +exacted for myself; how I schemed and did not manage to gain +anything but shame and sorrow! and, there now, I require nothing +to be happy;' and suddenly a new light seemed to reveal itself to +him. 'Happiness is this!' he said to himself. 'Happiness lies in +living for others. That is evident. The desire for happiness is +innate in every man; therefore it is legitimate. When trying to +satisfy it selfishly--that is, by seeking for oneself riches, +fame, comforts, or love--it may happen that circumstances arise +which make it impossible to satisfy these desires. It follows that +it is these desires that are illegitimate, but not the need for +happiness. But what desires can always be satisfied despite +external circumstances? What are they? Love, self-sacrifice.' He +was so glad and excited when he had discovered this, as it seemed +to him, new truth, that he jumped up and began impatiently seeking +some one to sacrifice himself for, to do good to and to love. +'Since one wants nothing for oneself,' he kept thinking, 'why not +live for others?' He took up his gun with the intention of +returning home quickly to think this out and to find an +opportunity of doing good. He made his way out of the thicket. +When he had come out into the glade he looked around him; the sun +was no longer visible above the tree-tops. It had grown cooler and +the place seemed to him quite strange and not like the country +round the village. Everything seemed changed--the weather and the +character of the forest; the sky was wrapped in clouds, the wind +was rustling in the tree-tops, and all around nothing was visible +but reeds and dying broken-down trees. He called to his dog who +had run away to follow some animal, and his voice came back as in +a desert. And suddenly he was seized with a terrible sense of +weirdness. He grew frightened. He remembered the abreks and the +murders he had been told about, and he expected every moment that +an abrek would spring from behind every bush and he would have to +defend his life and die, or be a coward. He thought of God and of +the future life as for long he had not thought about them. And all +around was that same gloomy stern wild nature. 'And is it worth +while living for oneself,' thought he, 'when at any moment you may +die, and die without having done any good, and so that no one will +know of it?' He went in the direction where he fancied the village +lay. Of his shooting he had no further thought; but he felt tired +to death and peered round at every bush and tree with particular +attention and almost with terror, expecting every moment to be +called to account for his life. After having wandered about for a +considerable time he came upon a ditch down which was flowing cold +sandy water from the Terek, and, not to go astray any longer, he +decided to follow it. He went on without knowing where the ditch +would lead him. Suddenly the reeds behind him crackled. He +shuddered and seized his gun, and then felt ashamed of himself: +the over-excited dog, panting hard, had thrown itself into the +cold water of the ditch and was lapping it! + +He too had a drink, and then followed the dog in the direction it +wished to go, thinking it would lead him to the village. But +despite the dog's company everything around him seemed still more +dreary. The forest grew darker and the wind grew stronger and +stronger in the tops of the broken old trees. Some large birds +circled screeching round their nests in those trees. The +vegetation grew poorer and he came oftener and oftener upon +rustling reeds and bare sandy spaces covered with animal +footprints. To the howling of the wind was added another kind of +cheerless monotonous roar. Altogether his spirits became gloomy. +Putting his hand behind him he felt his pheasants, and found one +missing. It had broken off and was lost, and only the bleeding +head and beak remained sticking in his belt. He felt more +frightened than he had ever done before. He began to pray to God, +and feared above all that he might die without having done +anything good or kind; and he so wanted to live, and to live so as +to perform a feat of self-sacrifice. + + + + +Chapter XXI + + +Suddenly it was as though the sun had shone into his soul. He +heard Russian being spoken, and also heard the rapid smooth flow +of the Terek, and a few steps farther in front of him saw the +brown moving surface of the river, with the dim-coloured wet sand +of its banks and shallows, the distant steppe, the cordon watch- +tower outlined above the water, a saddled and hobbled horse among +the brambles, and then the mountains opening out before him. The +red sun appeared for an instant from under a cloud and its last +rays glittered brightly along the river over the reeds, on the +watch-tower, and on a group of Cossacks, among whom Lukashka's +vigorous figure attracted Olenin's involuntary attention. + +Olenin felt that he was again, without any apparent cause, +perfectly happy. He had come upon the Nizhni-Prototsk post on the +Terek, opposite a pro-Russian Tartar village on the other side of +the river. He accosted the Cossacks, but not finding as yet any +excuse for doing anyone a kindness, he entered the hut; nor in the +hut did he find any such opportunity. The Cossacks received him +coldly. On entering the mud hut he lit a cigarette. The Cossacks +paid little attention to him, first because he was smoking a +cigarette, and secondly because they had something else to divert +them that evening. Some hostile Chechens, relatives of the abrek +who had been killed, had come from the hills with a scout to +ransom the body; and the Cossacks were waiting for their +Commanding Officer's arrival from the village. The dead man's +brother, tall and well shaped with a short cropped beard which was +dyed red, despite his very tattered coat and cap was calm and +majestic as a king. His face was very like that of the dead abrek. +He did not deign to look at anyone, and never once glanced at the +dead body, but sitting on his heels in the shade he spat as he +smoked his short pipe, and occasionally uttered some few guttural +sounds of command, which were respectfully listened to by his +companion. He was evidently a brave who had met Russians more than +once before in quite other circumstances, and nothing about them +could astonish or even interest him. Olenin was about to approach +the dead body and had begun to look at it when the brother, +looking up at him from under his brows with calm contempt, said +something sharply and angrily. The scout hastened to cover the +dead man's face with his coat. Olenin was struck by the dignified +and stem expression of the brave's face. He began to speak to him, +asking from what village he came, but the Chechen, scarcely giving +him a glance, spat contemptuously and turned away. Olenin was so +surprised at the Chechen not being interested in him that he could +only put it down to the man's stupidity or ignorance of Russian; +so he turned to the scout, who also acted as interpreter. The +scout was as ragged as the other, but instead of being red-haired +he was black-haired, restless, with extremely white gleaming teeth +and sparkling black eyes. The scout willingly entered into +conversation and asked for a cigarette. + +'There were five brothers,' began the scout in his broken Russian. +'This is the third brother the Russians have killed, only two are +left. He is a brave, a great brave!' he said, pointing to the +Chechen. 'When they killed Ahmet Khan (the dead brave) this one +was sitting on the opposite bank among the reeds. He saw it all. +Saw him laid in the skiff and brought to the bank. He sat there +till the night and wished to kill the old man, but the others +would not let him.' + +Lukashka went up to the speaker, and sat down. 'Of what village?' +asked he. + +'From there in the hills,' replied the scout, pointing to the +misty bluish gorge beyond the Terek. 'Do you know Suuk-su? It is +about eight miles beyond that.' + +'Do you know Girey Khan in Suuk-su?' asked Lukashka, evidently +proud of the acquaintance. 'He is my kunak.' + +'He is my neighbour,' answered the scout. + +'He's a trump!' and Lukashka, evidently much interested, began +talking to the scout in Tartar. + +Presently a Cossack captain, with the head of the village, arrived +on horseback with a suite of two Cossacks. The captain--one of the +new type of Cossack officers--wished the Cossacks 'Good health,' +but no one shouted in reply, 'Hail! Good health to your honour,' +as is customary in the Russian Army, and only a few replied with a +bow. Some, and among them Lukashka, rose and stood erect. The +corporal replied that all was well at the outposts. All this +seemed ridiculous: it was as if these Cossacks were playing at +being soldiers. But these formalities soon gave place to ordinary +ways of behaviour, and the captain, who was a smart Cossack just +like the others, began speaking fluently in Tartar to the +interpreter. They filled in some document, gave it to the scout, +and received from him some money. Then they approached the body. + +'Which of you is Luke Gavrilov?' asked the captain. + +Lukishka took off his cap and came forward. + +'I have reported your exploit to the Commander. I don't know what +will come of it. I have recommended you for a cross; you're too +young to be made a sergeant. Can you read?' + +'I can't.' + +'But what a fine fellow to look at!' said the captain, again +playing the commander. 'Put on your cap. Which of the Gavrilovs +does he come of? ... the Broad, eh?' + +'His nephew,' replied the corporal. + +'I know, I know. Well, lend a hand, help them,' he said, turning +to the Cossacks. + +Lukashka's face shone with joy and seemed handsomer than usual. He +moved away from the corporal, and having put on his cap sat down +beside Olenin. + +When the body had been carried to the skiff the brother Chechen +descended to the bank. The Cossacks involuntarily stepped aside to +let him pass. He jumped into the boat and pushed off from the bank +with his powerful leg, and now, as Olenin noticed, for the first +time threw a rapid glance at all the Cossacks and then abruptly +asked his companion a question. The latter answered something and +pointed to Lukashka. The Chechen looked at him and, turning slowly +away, gazed at the opposite bank. That look expressed not hatred +but cold contempt. He again made some remark. + +'What is he saying?' Olenin asked of the fidgety scout. + +'Yours kill ours, ours slay yours. It's always the same,' replied +the scout, evidently inventing, and he smiled, showing his white +teeth, as he jumped into the skiff. + +The dead man's brother sat motionless, gazing at the opposite +bank. He was so full of hatred and contempt that there was nothing +on this side of the river that moved his curiosity. The scout, +standing up at one end of the skiff and dipping his paddle now on +one side now on the other, steered skilfully while talking +incessantly. The skiff became smaller and smaller as it moved +obliquely across the stream, the voices became scarcely audible, +and at last, still within sight, they landed on the opposite bank +where their horses stood waiting. There they lifted out the corpse +and (though the horse shied) laid it across one of the saddles, +mounted, and rode at a foot-pace along the road past a Tartar +village from which a crowd came out to look at them. The Cossacks +on the Russian side of the river were highly satisfied and jovial. +Laughter and jokes were heard on all sides. The captain and the +head of the village entered the mud hut to regale themselves. +Lukashka, vainly striving to impart a sedate expression to his +merry face, sat down with his elbows on his knees beside Olenin +and whittled away at a stick. + +'Why do you smoke?' he said with assumed curiosity. 'Is it good?' + +He evidently spoke because he noticed Olenin felt ill at ease and +isolated among the Cossacks. + +'It's just a habit,' answered Olenin. 'Why?' + +'H'm, if one of us were to smoke there would be a row! Look there +now, the mountains are not far off,' continued Lukashka, 'yet you +can't get there! How will you get back alone? It's getting dark. +I'll take you, if you like. You ask the corporal to give me +leave.' + +'What a fine fellow!' thought Olenin, looking at the Cossack's +bright face. He remembered Maryanka and the kiss he had heard by +the gate, and he was sorry for Lukashka and his want of culture. +'What confusion it is,' he thought. 'A man kills another and is +happy and satisfied with himself as if he had done something +excellent. Can it be that nothing tells him that it is not a +reason for any rejoicing, and that happiness lies not in killing, +but in sacrificing oneself?' + +'Well, you had better not meet him again now, mate!' said one of +the Cossacks who had seen the skiff off, addressing Lukashka. 'Did +you hear him asking about you?' + +Lukashka raised his head. + +'My godson?' said Lukashka, meaning by that word the dead Chechen. + +'Your godson won't rise, but the red one is the godson's brother!' + +'Let him thank God that he got off whole himself,' replied +Lukashka. + +'What are you glad about?' asked Olenin. 'Supposing your brother +had been killed; would you be glad?' + +The Cossack looked at Olenin with laughing eyes. He seemed to have +understood all that Olenin wished to say to him, but to be above +such considerations. + +'Well, that happens too! Don't our fellows get killed sometimes?' + + + + +Chapter XXII + + +The Captain and the head of the village rode away, and Olenin, to +please Lukashka as well as to avoid going back alone through the +dark forest, asked the corporal to give Lukashka leave, and the +corporal did so. Olenin thought that Lukashka wanted to see +Maryanka and he was also glad of the companionship of such a +pleasant-looking and sociable Cossack. Lukashka and Maryanka he +involuntarily united in his mind, and he found pleasure in +thinking about them. 'He loves Maryanka,' thought Olenin, 'and I +could love her,' and a new and powerful emotion of tenderness +overcame him as they walked homewards together through the dark +forest. Lukashka too felt happy; something akin to love made +itself felt between these two very different young men. Every time +they glanced at one another they wanted to laugh. + +'By which gate do you enter?' asked Olenin. + +'By the middle one. But I'll see you as far as the marsh. After +that you have nothing to fear.' + +Olenin laughed. + +'Do you think I am afraid? Go back, and thank you. I can get on +alone.' + +'It's all right! What have I to do? And how can you help being +afraid? Even we are afraid,' said Lukashka to set Olenin's self- +esteem at rest, and he laughed too. + +'Then come in with me. We'll have a talk and a drink and in the +morning you can go back.' + +'Couldn't I find a place to spend the night?' laughed Lukashka. +'But the corporal asked me to go back.' + +'I heard you singing last night, and also saw you.' + +'Every one...' and Luke swayed his head. + +'Is it true you are getting married?' asked Olenin. + +'Mother wants me to marry. But I have not got a horse yet.' + +'Aren't you in the regular service?' + +'Oh dear no! I've only just joined, and have not got a horse yet, +and don't know how to get one. That's why the marriage does not +come off.' + +'And what would a horse cost?' + +'We were bargaining for one beyond the river the other day and +they would not take sixty rubles for it, though it is a Nogay +horse.' + +'Will you come and be my drabant?' (A drabant was a kind of +orderly attached to an officer when campaigning.) 'I'll get it +arranged and will give you a horse,' said Olenin suddenly. 'Really +now, I have two and I don't want both.' + +'How--don't want it?' Lukashka said, laughing. 'Why should you +make me a present? We'll get on by ourselves by God's help.' + +'No, really! Or don't you want to be a drabant?' said Olenin, glad +that it had entered his head to give a horse to Lukashka, though, +without knowing why, he felt uncomfortable and confused and did +not know what to say when he tried to speak. + +Lukashka was the first to break the silence. + +'Have you a house of your own in Russia?' he asked. + +Olenin could not refrain from replying that he had not only one, +but several houses. + +'A good house? Bigger than ours?' asked Lukashka good-naturedly. + +'Much bigger; ten times as big and three storeys high,' replied +Olenin. + +'And have you horses such as ours?' + +'I have a hundred horses, worth three or four hundred rubles each, +but they are not like yours. They are trotters, you know.... But +still, I like the horses here best.' + +'Well, and did you come here of your own free will, or were you +sent?' said Lukashka, laughing at him. 'Look! that's where you +lost your way,' he added, 'you should have turned to the right.' + +'I came by my own wish,' replied Olenin. 'I wanted to see your +parts and to join some expeditions.' + +'I would go on an expedition any day,' said Lukashka. 'D'you hear +the jackals howling?' he added, listening. + +'I say, don't you feel any horror at having killed a man?' asked +Olenin. + +'What's there to be frightened about? But I should like to join an +expedition,' Lukashka repeated. 'How I want to! How I want to!' + +'Perhaps we may be going together. Our company is going before the +holidays, and your "hundred" too.' + +'And what did you want to come here for? You've a house and horses +and serfs. In your place I'd do nothing but make merry! And what +is your rank?' + +'I am a cadet, but have been recommended for a commission.' + +'Well, if you're not bragging about your home, if I were you I'd +never have left it! Yes, I'd never have gone away anywhere. Do you +find it pleasant living among us?' + +'Yes, very pleasant,' answered Olenin. + +It had grown quite dark before, talking in this way, they +approached the village. They were still surrounded by the deep +gloom of the forest. The wind howled through the tree-tops. The +jackals suddenly seemed to be crying close beside them, howling, +chuckling, and sobbing; but ahead of them in the village the +sounds of women's voices and the barking of dogs could already be +heard; the outlines of the huts were clearly to be seen; lights +gleamed and the air was filled with the peculiar smell of kisyak +smoke. Olenin felt keenly, that night especially, that here in +this village was his home, his family, all his happiness, and that +he never had and never would live so happily anywhere as he did in +this Cossack village. He was so fond of everybody and especially +of Lukashka that night. On reaching home, to Lukashka's great +surprise, Olenin with his own hands led out of the shed a horse he +had bought in Groznoe--it was not the one he usually rode but +another--not a bad horse though no longer young, and gave it to +Lukashka. + +'Why should you give me a present?' said Lukashka, 'I have not yet +done anything for you.' + +'Really it is nothing,' answered Olenin. 'Take it, and you will +give me a present, and we'll go on an expedition against the enemy +together.' + +Lukashka became confused. + +'But what d'you mean by it? As if a horse were of little value,' +he said without looking at the horse. + +'Take it, take it! If you don't you will offend me. Vanyusha! Take +the grey horse to his house.' + +Lukashka took hold of the halter. + +'Well then, thank you! This is something unexpected, undreamt of.' + +Olenin was as happy as a boy of twelve. + +'Tie it up here. It's a good horse. I bought it in Groznoe; it +gallops splendidly! Vanyusha, bring us some chikhir. Come into the +hut.' + +The wine was brought. Lukashka sat down and took the wine-bowl. + +'God willing I'll find a way to repay you,' he said, finishing his +wine. 'How are you called?' + +'Dmitri Andreich.' + +'Well, 'Mitry Andreich, God bless you. We will be kunaks. Now you +must come to see us. Though we are not rich people still we can +treat a kunak, and I will tell mother in case you need anything-- +clotted cream or grapes--and if you come to the cordon I'm your +servant to go hunting or to go across the river, anywhere you +like! There now, only the other day, what a boar I killed, and I +divided it among the Cossacks, but if I had only known, I'd have +given it to you.' 'That's all right, thank you! But don't harness +the horse, it has never been in harness.' + +'Why harness the horse? And there is something else I'll tell you +if you like,' said Lukashka, bending his head. 'I have a kunak, +Girey Khan. He asked me to lie in ambush by the road where they +come down from the mountains. Shall we go together? I'll not +betray you. I'll be your murid.' + +'Yes, we'll go; we'll go some day.' + +Lukashka seemed quite to have quieted down and to have understood +Olenin's attitude towards him. His calmness and the ease of his +behaviour surprised Olenin, and he did not even quite like it. +They talked long, and it was late when Lukashka, not tipsy (he +never was tipsy) but having drunk a good deal, left Olenin after +shaking hands. + +Olenin looked out of the window to see what he would do. Lukashka +went out, hanging his head. Then, having led the horse out of the +gate, he suddenly shook his head, threw the reins of the halter +over its head, sprang onto its back like a cat, gave a wild shout, +and galloped down the street. Olenin expected that Lukishka would +go to share his joy with Maryanka, but though he did not do so +Olenin still felt his soul more at ease than ever before in his +life. He was as delighted as a boy, and could not refrain from +telling Vanyusha not only that he had given Lukashka the horse, +but also why he had done it, as well as his new theory of +happiness. Vanyusha did not approve of his theory, and announced +that 'l'argent il n'y a pas!' and that therefore it was all +nonsense. + +Lukashka rode home, jumped off the horse, and handed it over to +his mother, telling her to let it out with the communal Cossack +herd. He himself had to return to the cordon that same night. His +deaf sister undertook to take the horse, and explained by signs +that when she saw the man who had given the horse, she would bow +down at his feet. The old woman only shook her head at her son's +story, and decided in her own mind that he had stolen it. She +therefore told the deaf girl to take it to the herd before +daybreak. + +Lukashka went back alone to the cordon pondering over Olenin's +action. Though he did not consider the horse a good one, yet it +was worth at least forty rubles and Lukashka was very glad to have +the present. But why it had been given him he could not at all +understand, and therefore he did not experience the least feeling +of gratitude. On the contrary, vague suspicions that the cadet had +some evil intentions filled his mind. What those intentions were +he could not decide, but neither could he admit the idea that a +stranger would give him a horse worth forty rubles for nothing, +just out of kindness; it seemed impossible. Had he been drunk one +might understand it! He might have wished to show off. But the +cadet had been sober, and therefore must have wished to bribe him +to do something wrong. 'Eh, humbug!' thought Lukashka. 'Haven't I +got the horse and we'll see later on. I'm not a fool myself and we +shall see who'll get the better of the other,' he thought, feeling +the necessity of being on his guard, and therefore arousing in +himself unfriendly feelings towards Olenin. He told no one how he +had got the horse. To some he said he had bought it, to others he +replied evasively. However, the truth soon got about in the +village, and Lukashka's mother and Maryanka, as well as Elias +Vasilich and other Cossacks, when they heard of Olenin's +unnecessary gift, were perplexed, and began to be on their guard +against the cadet. But despite their fears his action aroused in +them a great respect for his simplicity and wealth. + +'Have you heard,' said one, 'that the cadet quartered on Elias +Vasilich has thrown a fifty-ruble horse at Lukashka? He's +rich! ...' + +'Yes, I heard of it,' replied another profoundly, 'he must have +done him some great service. We shall see what will come of this +cadet. Eh! what luck that Snatcher has!' + +'Those cadets are crafty, awfully crafty,' said a third. 'See if +he don't go setting fire to a building, or doing something!' + + + + +Chapter XXIII + + +Olenin's life went on with monotonous regularity. He had little +intercourse with the commanding officers or with his equals. The +position of a rich cadet in the Caucasus was peculiarly +advantageous in this respect. He was not sent out to work, or for +training. As a reward for going on an expedition he was +recommended for a commission, and meanwhile he was left in peace. +The officers regarded him as an aristocrat and behaved towards him +with dignity. Cardplaying and the officers' carousals accompanied +by the soldier-singers, of which he had had experience when he was +with the detachment, did not seem to him attractive, and he also +avoided the society and life of the officers in the village. The +life of officers stationed in a Cossack village has long had its +own definite form. Just as every cadet or officer when in a fort +regularly drinks porter, plays cards, and discusses the rewards +given for taking part in the expeditions, so in the Cossack +villages he regularly drinks chikhir with his hosts, treats the +girls to sweet-meats and honey, dangles after the Cossack women, +and falls in love, and occasionally marries there. Olenin always +took his own path and had an unconscious objection to the beaten +tracks. And here, too, he did not follow the ruts of a Caucasian +officer's life. + +It came quite naturally to him to wake up at daybreak. After +drinking tea and admiring from his porch the mountains, the +morning, and Maryanka, he would put on a tattered ox-hide coat, +sandals of soaked raw hide, buckle on a dagger, take a gun, put +cigarettes and some lunch in a little bag, call his dog, and soon +after five o'clock would start for the forest beyond the village. +Towards seven in the evening he would return tired and hungry with +five or six pheasants hanging from his belt (sometimes with some +other animal) and with his bag of food and cigarettes untouched. +If the thoughts in his head had lain like the lunch and cigarettes +in the bag, one might have seen that during all those fourteen +hours not a single thought had moved in it. He returned morally +fresh, strong, and perfectly happy, and he could not tell what he +had been thinking about all the time. Were they ideas, memories, +or dreams that had been flitting through his mind? They were +frequently all three. He would rouse himself and ask what he had +been thinking about; and would see himself as a Cossack working in +a vineyard with his Cossack wife, or an abrek in the mountains, or +a boar running away from himself. And all the time he kept peering +and watching for a pheasant, a boar, or a deer. + +In the evening Daddy Eroshka would be sure to be sitting with him. +Vanyusha would bring a jug of chikhir, and they would converse +quietly, drink, and separate to go quite contentedly to bed. The +next day he would again go shooting, again be healthily weary, +again they would sit conversing and drink their fill, and again be +happy. Sometimes on a holiday or day of rest Olenin spent the +whole day at home. Then his chief occupation was watching +Maryanka, whose every movement, without realizing it himself, he +followed greedily from his window or his porch. He regarded +Maryanka and loved her (so he thought) just as he loved the beauty +of the mountains and the sky, and he had no thought of entering +into any relations with her. It seemed to him that between him and +her such relations as there were between her and the Cossack +Lukashka could not exist, and still less such as often existed +between rich officers and other Cossack girls. It seemed to him +that if he tried to do as his fellow officers did, he would +exchange his complete enjoyment of contemplation for an abyss of +suffering, disillusionment, and remorse. Besides, he had already +achieved a triumph of self-sacrifice in connexion with her which +had given him great pleasure, and above all he was in a way afraid +of Maryanka and would not for anything have ventured to utter a +word of love to her lightly. + +Once during the summer, when Olenin had not gone out shooting but +was sitting at home, quite unexpectedly a Moscow acquaintance, a +very young man whom he had met in society, came in. + +'Ah, mon cher, my dear fellow, how glad I was when I heard that +you were here!' he began in his Moscow French, and he went on +intermingling French words in his remarks. 'They said, "Olenin". +What Olenin? and I was so pleased.... Fancy fate bringing us +together here! Well, and how are you? How? Why?' and Prince +Beletski told his whole story: how he had temporarily entered the +regiment, how the. Commander-in-Chief had offered to take him as +an adjutant, and how he would take up the post after this campaign +although personally he felt quite indifferent about it. + +'Living here in this hole one must at least make a career--get a +cross--or a rank--be transferred to the Guards. That is quite +indispensable, not for myself but for the sake of my relations and +friends. The prince received me very well; he is a very decent +fellow,' said Beletski, and went on unceasingly. 'I have been +recommended for the St. Anna Cross for the expedition. Now I shall +stay here a bit until we start on the campaign. It's capital here. +What women! Well, and how are you getting on? I was told by our +captain, Startsev you know, a kind-hearted stupid creature.... +Well, he said you were living like an awful savage, seeing no one! +I quite understand you don't want to be mixed up with the set of +officers we have here. I am so glad now you and I will be able to +see something of one another. I have put up at the Cossack +corporal's house. There is such a girl there. Ustenka! I tell you +she's just charming.' + +And more and more French and Russian words came pouring forth from +that world which Olenin thought he had left for ever. The general +opinion about Beletski was that he was a nice, good-natured +fellow. Perhaps he really was; but in spite of his pretty, good- +natured face, Olenin thought him extremely unpleasant. He seemed +just to exhale that filthiness which Olenin had forsworn. What +vexed him most was that he could not--had not the strength-- +abruptly to repulse this man who came from that world: as if that +old world he used to belong to had an irresistible claim on him. +Olenin felt angry with Beletski and with himself, yet against his +wish he introduced French phrases into his own conversation, was +interested in the Commander-in-Chief and in their Moscow +acquaintances, and because in this Cossack village he and Beletski +both spoke French, he spoke contemptuously of their fellow +officers and of the Cossacks, and was friendly with Beletski, +promising to visit him and inviting him to drop in to see him. +Olenin however did not himself go to see Beletski. Vanyusha for +his part approved of Beletski, remarking that he was a real +gentleman. + +Beletski at once adopted the customary life of a rich officer in a +Cossack village. Before Olenin's eyes, in one month he came to be +like an old resident of the village; he made the old men drunk, +arranged evening parties, and himself went to parties arranged by +the girls--bragged of his conquests, and even got so far that, for +some unknown reason, the women and girls began calling him +grandad, and the Cossacks, to whom a man who loved wine and women +was clearly understandable, got used to him and even liked him +better than they did Olenin, who was a puzzle to them. + + + + +Chapter XXIV + + +It was five in the morning. Vanyusha was in the porch heating the +samovar, and using the leg of a long boot instead of bellows. +Olenin had already ridden off to bathe in the Terek. (He had +recently invented a new amusement: to swim his horse in the +river.) His landlady was in her outhouse, and the dense smoke of +the kindling fire rose from the chimney. The girl was milking the +buffalo cow in the shed. 'Can't keep quiet, the damned thing!' +came her impatient voice, followed by the rhythmical sound of +milking. + +From the street in front of the house horses' hoofs were heard +clattering briskly, and Olenin, riding bareback on a handsome +dark-grey horse which was still wet and shining, rode up to the +gate. Maryanka's handsome head, tied round with a red kerchief, +appeared from the shed and again disappeared. Olenin was wearing a +red silk shirt, a white Circassian coat girdled with a strap which +carried a dagger, and a tall cap. He sat his well-fed wet horse +with a slightly conscious elegance and, holding his gun at his +back, stooped to open the gate. His hair was still wet, and his +face shone with youth and health. He thought himself handsome, +agile, and like a brave; but he was mistaken. To any experienced +Caucasian he was still only a soldier. When he noticed that the +girl had put out her head he stooped with particular rested on the +ground without altering their shape; how her strong arms with the +sleeves rolled up, exerting the muscles, used the spade almost as +if in anger, and how her deep dark eyes sometimes glanced at him. +Though the delicate brows frowned, yet her eyes expressed pleasure +and a knowledge of her own beauty. + +'I say, Olenin, have you been up long?' said Beletski as he +entered the yard dressed in the coat of a Caucasian officer. + +'Ah, Beletski,' replied Olenin, holding out his hand. 'How is it +you are out so early?' + +'I had to. I was driven out; we are having a ball tonight. +Maryanka, of course you'll come to Ustenka's?' he added, turning +to the girl. + +Olenin felt surprised that Beletski could address this woman so +easily. But Maryanka, as though she had not heard him, bent her +head, and throwing the spade across her shoulder went with her +firm masculine tread towards the outhouse. + +'She's shy, the wench is shy,' Beletski called after her. 'Shy of +you,' he added as, smiling gaily, he ran up the steps of the +porch. + +'How is it you are having a ball and have been driven out?' + +'It's at Ustenka's, at my landlady's, that the ball is, and you +two are invited. A ball consists of a pie and a gathering of +girls.' + +'What should we do there?' + +Beletski smiled knowingly and winked, jerking his head in the +direction of the outhouse into which Maryanka had disappeared. + +Olenin shrugged his shoulders and blushed. + +'Well, really you are a strange fellow!' said he. + +'Come now, don't pretend' + +Olenin frowned, and Beletski noticing this smiled insinuatingly. +'Oh, come, what do you mean?' he said, 'living in the same house-- +and such a fine girl, a splendid girl, a perfect beauty' + +'Wonderfully beautiful! I never saw such a woman before,' replied +Olenin. + +'Well then?' said Beletski, quite unable to understand the +situation. + +'It may be strange,' replied Olenin, 'but why should I not say +what is true? Since I have lived here women don't seem to exist +for me. And it is so good, really! Now what can there be in common +between us and women like these? Eroshka--that's a different +matter! He and I have a passion in common--sport.' + +'There now! In common! And what have I in common with Amalia +Ivanovna? It's the same thing! You may say they're not very clean- +-that's another matter... A la guerre, comme a la guerre! ...' + +'But I have never known any Amalia Ivanovas, and have never known +how to behave with women of that sort,' replied Olenin. 'One +cannot respect them, but these I do respect.' + +'Well go on respecting them! Who wants to prevent you?' + +Olenin did not reply. He evidently wanted to complete. what he had +begun to say. It was very near his heart. + +'I know I am an exception...' He was visibly confused. 'But my +life has so shaped itself that I not only see no necessity to +renounce my rules, but I could not live here, let alone live as +happily as I am doing, were I to live as you do. Therefore I look +for something quite different from what you look for.' + +Beletski raised his eyebrows incredulously. 'Anyhow, come to me +this evening; Maryanka will be there and I will make you +acquainted. Do come, please! If you feel dull you can go away. +Will you come?' + +'I would come, but to speak frankly I am afraid of being' +seriously carried away.' + +'Oh, oh, oh!' shouted Beletski. 'Only come, and I'll see that you +aren't. Will you? On your word?' + +'I would come, but really I don't understand what we shall do; +what part we shall play!' + +'Please, I beg of you. You will come?' + +'Yes, perhaps I'll come,' said Olenin. + +'Really now! Charming women such as one sees nowhere else, and to +live like a monk! What an idea! Why spoil your life and not make +use of what is at hand? Have you heard that our company is ordered +to Vozdvizhensk?' + +'Hardly. I was told the 8th Company would be sent there,' said +Olenin. + +'No. I have had a letter from the adjutant there. He writes that +the Prince himself will take part in the campaign. I am very glad +I shall see something of him. I'm beginning to get tired of this +place.' + +'I hear we shall start on a raid soon.' + +'I have not heard of it; but I have heard that Krinovitsin has +received the Order of St. Anna for a raid. He expected a +lieutenancy,' said Beletski laughing. 'He was let in! He has set +off for headquarters.' + +It was growing dusk and Olenin began thinking about the party. The +invitation he had received worried him. He felt inclined to go, +but what might take place there seemed strange, absurd, and even +rather alarming. He knew that neither Cossack men nor older women, +nor anyone besides the girls, were to be there. What was going to +happen? How was he to behave? What would they talk about? What +connexion was there between him and those wild Cossack girls? +Beletski had told him of such curious, cynical, and yet rigid +relations. It seemed strange to think that he would be there in +the same hut with Maryanka and perhaps might have to talk to her. +It seemed to him impossible when he remembered her majestic +bearing. But Beletski spoke of it as if it were all perfectly +simple. 'Is it possible that Beletski will treat Maryanka in the +same way? That is interesting,' thought he. 'No, better not go. +It's all so horrid, so vulgar, and above all--it leads to +nothing!' But again he was worried by the question of what would +take place; and besides he felt as if bound by a promise. He went +out without having made up his mind one way or the other, but he +walked as far as Beletski's, and went in there. + +The hut in which Beletski lived was like Olenin's. It was raised +nearly five feet from the ground on wooden piles, and had two +rooms. In the first (which Olenin entered by the steep flight of +steps) feather beds, rugs, blankets, and cushions were tastefully +and handsomely arranged, Cossack fashion, along the main wall. On +the side wall hung brass basins and weapons, while on the floor, +under a bench, lay watermelons and pumpkins. In the second room +there was a big brick oven, a table, and sectarian icons. It was +here that Beletski was quartered, with his camp-bed and his pack +and trunks. His weapons hung on the wall with a little rug behind +them, and on the table were his toilet appliances and some +portraits. A silk dressing-gown had been thrown on the bench. +Beletski himself, clean and good-looking, lay on the bed in his +underclothing, reading Les Trois Mousquetaires. + +He jumped up. + +'There, you see how I have arranged things. Fine! Well, it's good +that you have come. They are working furiously. Do you know what +the pie is made of? Dough with a stuffing of pork and grapes. But +that's not the point. You just look at the commotion out there!' + +And really, on looking out of the window they saw an unusual +bustle going on in the hut. Girls ran in and out, now for one +thing and now for another. + +'Will it soon be ready?' cried Beletski. + +'Very soon! Why? Is Grandad hungry?' and from the hut came the +sound of ringing laughter. + +Ustenka, plump, small, rosy, and pretty, with her sleeves turned +up, ran into Beletski's hut to fetch some plates. + +'Get away or I shall smash the plates!' she squeaked, escaping +from Beletski. 'You'd better come and help,' she shouted to +Olenin, laughing. 'And don't forget to get some refreshments for +the girls.' ('Refreshments' meaning spicebread and sweets.) + +'And has Maryanka come?' + +'Of course! She brought some dough.' + +'Do you know,' said Beletski, 'if one were to dress Ustenka up and +clean and polish her up a bit, she'd be better than all our +beauties. Have you ever seen that Cossack woman who married a +colonel; she was charming! Borsheva? What dignity! Where do they +get it...' + +'I have not seen Borsheva, but I think nothing could be better +than the costume they wear here.' + +'Ah, I'm first-rate at fitting into any kind of life,' said +Beletski with a sigh of pleasure. 'I'll go and see what they are +up to.' + +He threw his dressing-gown over his shoulders and ran out, +shouting, 'And you look after the "refreshments".' + +Olenin sent Beletski's orderly to buy spice-bread and honey; but +it suddenly seemed to him so disgusting to give money (as if he +were bribing someone) that he gave no definite reply to the +orderly's question: 'How much spice-bread with peppermint, and how +much with honey?' + +'Just as you please.' + +'Shall I spend all the money,' asked the old soldier impressively. +'The peppermint is dearer. It's sixteen kopeks.' + +'Yes, yes, spend it all,' answered Olenin and sat down by the +window, surprised that his heart was thumping as if he were +preparing himself for something serious and wicked. + +He heard screaming and shrieking in the girls' hut when Beletski +went there, and a few moments later saw how he jumped out and ran +down the steps, accompanied by shrieks, bustle, and laughter. + +'Turned out,' he said. + +A little later Ustenka entered and solemnly invited her visitors +to come in: announcing that all was ready. + +When they came into the room they saw that everything was really +ready. Ustenka was rearranging the cushions along the wall. On the +table, which was covered by a disproportionately small cloth, was +a decanter of chikhir and some dried fish. The room smelt of dough +and grapes. Some half dozen girls in smart tunics, with their +heads not covered as usual with kerchiefs, were huddled together +in a corner behind the oven, whispering, giggling, and spluttering +with laughter. + +'I humbly beg you to do honour to my patron saint,' said Ustenka, +inviting her guests to the table. + +Olenin noticed Maryanka among the group of girls, who without +exception were all handsome, and he felt vexed and hurt that he +met her in such vulgar and awkward circumstances. He felt stupid +and awkward, and made up his mind to do what Beletski did. +Beletski stepped to the table somewhat solemnly yet with +confidence and ease, drank a glass of wine to Ustenka's health, +and invited the others to do the same. Ustenka announced that +girls don't drink. 'We might with a little honey,' exclaimed a +voice from among the group of girls. The orderly, who had just +returned with the honey and spice-cakes, was called in. He looked +askance (whether with envy or with contempt) at the gentlemen, who +in his opinion were on the spree; and carefully and +conscientiously handed over to them a piece of honeycomb and the +cakes wrapped up in a piece of greyish paper, and began explaining +circumstantially all about the price and the change, but Beletski +sent him away. Having mixed honey with wine in the glasses, and +having lavishly scattered the three pounds of spice-cakes on the +table, Beletski dragged the girls from their comers by force, made +them sit down at the table, and began distributing the cakes among +them. Olenin involuntarily noticed how Maryanka's sunburnt but +small hand closed on two round peppermint nuts and one brown one, +and that she did not know what to do with them. The conversation +was halting and constrained, in spite of Ustenka's and Beletski's +free and easy manner and their wish to enliven the company. Olenin +faltered, and tried to think of something to say, feeling that he +was exciting curiosity and perhaps provoking ridicule and +infecting the others with his shyness. He blushed, and it seemed +to him that Maryanka in particular was feeling uncomfortable. +'Most likely they are expecting us to give them some money,' +thought he. 'How are we to do it? And how can we manage quickest +to give it and get away?' + + + + +Chapter XXV + + +'How is it you don't know your own lodger?' said Beletski, +addressing Maryanka. + +'How is one to know him if he never comes to see us?' answered +Maryanka, with a look at Olenin. + +Olenin felt frightened, he did not know of what. He flushed and, +hardly knowing what he was saying, remarked: 'I'm afraid of your +mother. She gave me such a scolding the first time I went in.' + +Maryanka burst out laughing. 'And so you were frightened?' she +said, and glanced at him and turned away. + +It was the first time Olenin had seen the whole of her beautiful +face. Till then he had seen her with her kerchief covering her to +the eyes. It was not for nothing that she was reckoned the beauty +of the village. Ustenka was a pretty girl, small, plump, rosy, +with merry brown eyes, and red lips which were perpetually smiling +and chattering. Maryanka on the contrary was certainly not pretty +but beautiful. Her features might have been considered too +masculine and almost harsh had it not been for her tall stately +figure, her powerful chest and shoulders, and especially the +severe yet tender expression of her long dark eyes which were +darkly shadowed beneath their black brows, and for the gentle +expression of her mouth and smile. She rarely smiled, but her +smile was always striking. She seemed to radiate virginal strength +and health. All the girls were good-looking, but they themselves +and Beletski, and the orderly when he brought in the spice-cakes, +all involuntarily gazed at Maryanka, and anyone addressing the +girls was sure to address her. She seemed a proud and happy queen +among them. + +Beletski, trying to keep up the spirit of the party, chattered +incessantly, made the girls hand round chikhir, fooled about with +them, and kept making improper remarks in French about Maryanka's +beauty to Olenin, calling her 'yours' (la votre), and advising him +to behave as he did himself. Olenin felt more and more +uncomfortable. He was devising an excuse to get out and run away +when Beletski announced that Ustenka, whose saint's day it was, +must offer chikhir to everybody with a kiss. She consented on +condition that they should put money on her plate, as is the +custom at weddings. + +'What fiend brought me to this disgusting feast?' thought Olenin, +rising to go away. + +'Where are you off to?' + +'I'll fetch some tobacco,' he said, meaning to escape, but +Beletski seized his hand. + +'I have some money,' he said to him in French. + +'One can't go away, one has to pay here,' thought Olenin bitterly, +vexed at his own awkwardness. 'Can't I really behave like +Beletski? I ought not to have come, but once I am here I must not +spoil their fun. I must drink like a Cossack,' and taking the +wooden bowl (holding about eight tumblers) he almost filled it +with chikhir and drank it almost all. The girls looked at him, +surprised and almost frightened, as he drank. It seemed to them +strange and not right. Ustenka brought them another glass each, +and kissed them both. 'There girls, now we'll have some fun,' she +said, clinking on the plate the four rubles the men had put there. + +Olenin no longer felt awkward, but became talkative. + +'Now, Maryanka, it's your turn to offer us wine and a kiss,' said +Beletski, seizing her hand. + +'Yes, I'll give you such a kiss!' she said playfully, preparing to +strike at him. + +'One can kiss Grandad without payment,' said another girl. + +'There's a sensible girl,' said Beletski, kissing the struggling +girl. 'No, you must offer it,' he insisted, addressing Maryanka. +'Offer a glass to your lodger.' + +And taking her by the hand he led her to the bench and sat her +down beside Olenin. + +'What a beauty,' he said, turning her head to see it in profile. + +Maryanka did not resist but proudly smiling turned her long eyes +towards Olenin. + +'A beautiful girl,' repeated Beletski. + +'Yes, see what a beauty I am,' Maryanka's look seemed to endorse. +Without considering what he was doing Olenin embraced Maryanka and +was going to kiss her, but she suddenly extricated herself, +upsetting Beletski and pushing the top off the table, and sprang +away towards the oven. There was much shouting and laughter. Then +Beletski whispered something to the girls and suddenly they all +ran out into the passage and locked the door behind them. + +'Why did you kiss Beletski and won't kiss me?' asked Olenin. + +'Oh, just so. I don't want to, that's all!' she answered, pouting +and frowning. 'He's Grandad,' she added with a smile. She went to +the door and began to bang at it. 'Why have you locked the door, +you devils?' + +'Well, let them be there and us here,' said Olenin, drawing closer +to her. + +She frowned, and sternly pushed him away with her hand. And again +she appeared so majestically handsome to Olenin that he came to +his senses and felt ashamed of what he was doing. He went to the +door and began pulling at it himself. + + 'Beletski! Open the door! What a stupid joke!' + +Maryanka again gave a bright happy laugh. 'Ah, you're afraid of +me?' she said. + +'Yes, you know you're as cross as your mother.' + +'Spend more of your time with Eroshka; that will make the girls +love you!' And she smiled, looking straight and close into his +eyes. + +He did not know what to reply. 'And if I were to come to see you-- +' he let fall. + +'That would be a different matter,' she replied, tossing her head. + +At that moment Beletski pushed the door open, and Maryanka sprang +away from Olenin and in doing so her thigh struck his leg. + +'It's all nonsense what I have been thinking about--love and self- +sacrifice and Lukashka. Happiness is the one thing. He who is +happy is right,' flashed through Olenin's mind, and with a +strength unexpected to himself he seized and kissed the beautiful +Maryanka on her temple and her cheek. Maryanka was not angry, but +only burst into a loud laugh and ran out to the other girls. + +That was the end of the party. Ustenka's mother, returned from her +work, gave all the girls a scolding, and turned them all out. + + + + +Chapter XXVI + + +'Yes,' thought Olenin, as he walked home. 'I need only slacken the +reins a bit and I might fall desperately in love with this Cossack +girl.' He went to bed with these thoughts, but expected it all to +blow over and that he would continue to live as before. + +But the old life did not return. His relations to Maryanka were +changed. The wall that had separated them was broken down. Olenin +now greeted her every time they met. + +The master of the house having returned to collect the rent, on +hearing of Olenin's wealth and generosity invited him to his hut. +The old woman received him kindly, and from the day of the party +onwards Olenin often went in of an evening and sat with them till +late at night. He seemed to be living in the village just as he +used to, but within him everything had changed. He spent his days +in the forest, and towards eight o'clock, when it began to grow +dusk, he would go to see his hosts, alone or with Daddy Eroshka. +They grew so used to him that they were surprised when he stayed +away. He paid well for his wine and was a quiet fellow. Vanyusha +would bring him his tea and he would sit down in a comer near the +oven. The old woman did not mind him but went on with her work, +and over their tea or their chikhir they talked about Cossack +affairs, about the neighbours, or about Russia: Olenin relating +and the others inquiring. Sometimes he brought a book and read to +himself. Maryanka crouched like a wild goat with her feet drawn up +under her, sometimes on the top of the oven, sometimes in a dark +comer. She did not take part in the conversations, but Olenin saw +her eyes and face and heard her moving or cracking sunflower +seeds, and he felt that she listened with her whole being when he +spoke, and was aware of his presence while he silently read to +himself. Sometimes he thought her eyes were fixed on him, and +meeting their radiance he involuntarily became silent and gazed at +her. Then she would instantly hide her face and he would pretend +to be deep in conversation with the old woman, while he listened +all the time to her breathing and to her every movement and waited +for her to look at him again. In the presence of others she was +generally bright and friendly with him, but when they were alone +together she was shy and rough. Sometimes he came in before +Maryanka had returned home. Suddenly he would hear her firm +footsteps and catch a glimmer of her blue cotton smock at the open +door. Then she would step into the middle of the hut, catch sight +of him, and her eyes would give a scarcely perceptible kindly +smile, and he would feel happy and frightened. + +He neither sought for nor wished for anything from her, but every +day her presence became more and more necessary to him. + +Olenin had entered into the life of the Cossack village so fully +that his past seemed quite foreign to him. As to the future, +especially a future outside the world in which he was now living, +it did not interest him at all. When he received letters from +home, from relatives and friends, he was offended by the evident +distress with which they regarded him as a lost man, while he in +his village considered those as lost who did not live as he was +living. He felt sure he would never repent of having broken away +from his former surroundings and of having settled down in this +village to such a solitary and original life. When out on +expeditions, and when quartered at one of the forts, he felt happy +too; but it was here, from under Daddy Eroshka's wing, from the +forest and from his hut at the end of the village, and especially +when he thought of Maryanka and Lukashka, that he seemed to see +the falseness of his former life. That falseness used to rouse his +indignation even before, but now it seemed inexpressibly vile and +ridiculous. Here he felt freer and freer every day and more and +more of a man. The Caucasus now appeared entirely different to +what his imagination had painted it. He had found nothing at all +like his dreams, nor like the descriptions of the Caucasus he had +heard and read. 'There are none of all those chestnut steeds, +precipices, Amalet Beks, heroes or villains,' thought he. 'The +people live as nature lives: they die, are born, unite, and more +are born--they fight, eat and drink, rejoice and die, without any +restrictions but those that nature imposes on sun and grass, on +animal and tree. They have no other laws.' Therefore these people, +compared to himself, appeared to him beautiful, strong, and free, +and the sight of them made him feel ashamed and sorry for himself. +Often it seriously occurred to him to throw up everything, to get +registered as a Cossack, to buy a hut and cattle and marry a +Cossack woman (only not Maryanka, whom he conceded to Lukashka), +and to live with Daddy Eroshka and go shooting and fishing with +him, and go with the Cossacks on their expeditions. 'Why ever +don't I do it? What am I waiting for?' he asked himself, and he +egged himself on and shamed himself. 'Am I afraid of doing what I +hold to be reasonable and right? Is the wish to be a simple +Cossack, to live close to nature, not to injure anyone but even to +do good to others, more stupid than my former dreams, such as +those of becoming a minister of state or a colonel?' but a voice +seemed to say that he should wait, and not take any decision. He +was held back by a dim consciousness that he could not live +altogether like Eroshka and Lukashka because he had a different +idea of happiness--he was held back by the thought that happiness +lies in self-sacrifice. What he had done for Lukashka continued to +give him joy. He kept looking for occasions to sacrifice himself +for others, but did not meet with them. Sometimes he forgot this +newly discovered recipe for happiness and considered himself +capable of identifying his life with Daddy Eroshka's, but then he +quickly bethought himself and promptly clutched at the idea of +conscious self-sacrifice, and from that basis looked calmly and +proudly at all men and at their happiness. + + + + +Chapter XXVII + + +Just before the vintage Lukashka came on horseback to see Olenin. +He looked more dashing than ever. 'Well? Are you getting married?' +asked Olenin, greeting him merrily. + +Lukashka gave no direct reply. + +'There, I've exchanged your horse across the river. This is a +horse! A Kabarda horse from the Lov stud. I know horses.' + +They examined the new horse and made him caracole about the yard. +The horse really was an exceptionally fine one, a broad and long +gelding, with glossy coat, thick silky tail, and the soft fine +mane and crest of a thoroughbred. He was so well fed that 'you +might go to sleep on his back' as Lukashka expressed it. His +hoofs, eyes, teeth, were exquisitely shaped and sharply outlined, +as one only finds them in very pure-bred horses. Olenin could not +help admiring the horse, he had not yet met with such a beauty in +the Caucasus. + +'And how it goes!' said Lukashka, patting its neck. 'What a step! +And so clever--he simply runs after his master.' + +'Did you have to add much to make the exchange?' asked Olenin. + +'I did not count it,' answered Lukashka with a smile. 'I got him +from a kunak.' + +'A wonderfully beautiful horse! What would you take for it?' asked +Olenin. + +'I have been offered a hundred and fifty rubles for it, but I'll +give it you for nothing,' said Lukashka, merrily. 'Only say the +word and it's yours. I'll unsaddle it and you may take it. Only +give me some sort of a horse for my duties.' + +'No, on no account.' + +'Well then, here is a dagger I've brought you,' said Lukashka, +unfastening his girdle and taking out one of the two daggers which +hung from it. 'I got it from across the river.' + +'Oh, thank you!' + +'And mother has promised to bring you some grapes herself.' + +'That's quite unnecessary. We'll balance up some day. You see I +don't offer you any money for the dagger!' + +'How could you? We are kunaks. It's just the same as when Girey +Khan across the river took me into his home and said, + +"Choose what you like!" So I took this sword. It's our custom.' + +They went into the hut and had a drink. + +'Are you staying here awhile?' asked Olenin. + +'No, I have come to say good-bye. They are sending me from the +cordon to a company beyond the Terek. I am going to-night with my +comrade Nazarka.' + +'And when is the wedding to be?' + +'I shall be coming back for the betrothal, and then I shall return +to the company again,' Lukashka replied reluctantly. + +'What, and see nothing of your betrothed?' + +'Just so--what is the good of looking at her? When you go on +campaign ask in our company for Lukashka the Broad. But what a lot +of boars there are in our parts! I've killed two. I'll take you.' +'Well, good-bye! Christ save you.' + +Lukashka mounted his horse, and without calling on Maryanka, rode +caracoling down the street, where Nazarka was already awaiting +him. + +'I say, shan't we call round?' asked Nazarka, winking in the +direction of Yamka's house. + +'That's a good one!' said Lukashka. 'Here, take my horse to her +and if I don't come soon give him some hay. I shall reach the +company by the morning anyway.' + +'Hasn't the cadet given you anything more?' + +'I am thankful to have paid him back with a dagger--he was going +to ask for the horse,' said Lukashka, dismounting and handing over +the horse to Nazarka. + +He darted into the yard past Olenin's very window, and came up to +the window of the cornet's hut. It was already quite dark. +Maryanka, wearing only her smock, was combing her hair preparing +for bed. + +'It's I--' whispered the Cossack. + +Maryanka's look was severely indifferent, but her face suddenly +brightened up when she heard her name. She opened the window and +leant out, frightened and joyous. + +'What--what do you want?' she said. + +'Open!' uttered Lukashka. 'Let me in for a minute. I am so sick of +waiting! It's awful!' + +He took hold of her head through the window and kissed her. + +'Really, do open!' + +'Why do you talk nonsense? I've told you I won't! Have you come +for long?' + +He did not answer but went on kissing her, and she did not ask +again. + +'There, through the window one can't even hug you properly,' said +Lukashka. + +'Maryanka dear!' came the voice of her mother, 'who is that with +you?' + +Lukashka took off his cap, which might have been seen, and +crouched down by the window. + +'Go, be quick!' whispered Maryanka. + +'Lukashka called round,' she answered; 'he was asking for Daddy.' + +'Well then send him here!' + +'He's gone; said he was in a hurry.' + +In fact, Lukashka, stooping, as with big strides he passed under +the windows, ran out through the yard and towards Yamka's house +unseen by anyone but Olenin. After drinking two bowls of chikhir +he and Nazarka rode away to the outpost. The night was warm, dark, +and calm. They rode in silence, only the footfall of their horses +was heard. Lukashka started a song about the Cossack, Mingal, but +stopped before he had finished the first verse, and after a pause, +turning to Nazarka, said: + +'I say, she wouldn't let me in!' + +'Oh?' rejoined Nazarka. 'I knew she wouldn't. D'you know what +Yamka told me? The cadet has begun going to their house. Daddy +Eroshka brags that he got a gun from the cadet for getting him +Maryanka.' + +'He lies, the old devil!' said Lukashka, angrily. 'She's not such +a girl. If he does not look out I'll wallop that old devil's +sides,' and he began his favourite song: + +'From the village of Izmaylov, + From the master's favourite garden, + Once escaped a keen-eyed falcon. + Soon after him a huntsman came a-riding, + And he beckoned to the falcon that had strayed, + But the bright-eyed bird thus answered: + "In gold cage you could not keep me, + On your hand you could not hold me, + So now I fly to blue seas far away. + There a white swan I will kill, + Of sweet swan-flesh have my fill."' + + + + +Chapter XXVIII + + +The bethrothal was taking place in the cornet's hut. Lukashka had +returned to the village, but had not been to see Olenin, and +Olenin had not gone to the betrothal though he had been invited. +He was sad as he had never been since he settled in this Cossack +village. He had seen Lukashka earlier in the evening and was +worried by the question why Lukashka was so cold towards him. +Olenin shut himself up in his hut and began writing in his diary +as follows: + +'Many things have I pondered over lately and much have I changed,' +wrote he, 'and I have come back to the copybook maxim: The one way +to be happy is to love, to love self-denyingly, to love everybody +and everything; to spread a web of love on all sides and to take +all who come into it. In this way I caught Vanyusha, Daddy +Eroshka, Lukashka, and Maryanka.' + +As Olenin was finishing this sentence Daddy Eroshka entered the +room. + +Eroshka was in the happiest frame of mind. A few evenings before +this, Olenin had gone to see him and had found him with a proud +and happy face deftly skinning the carcass of a boar with a small +knife in the yard. The dogs (Lyam his pet among them) were lying +close by watching what he was doing and gently wagging their +tails. The little boys were respectfully looking at him through +the fence and not even teasing him as was their wont. His women +neighbours, who were as a rule not too gracious towards him, +greeted him and brought him, one a jug of chikhir, another some +clotted cream, and a third a little flour. The next day Eroshka +sat in his store-room all covered with blood, and distributed +pounds of boar-flesh, taking in payment money from some and wine +from others. His face clearly expressed, 'God has sent me luck. I +have killed a boar, so now I am wanted.' Consequently, he +naturally began to drink, and had gone on for four days never +leaving the village. Besides which he had had something to drink +at the betrothal. + +He came to Olenin quite drunk: his face red, his beard tangled, +but wearing a new beshmet trimmed with gold braid; and he brought +with him a balalayka which he had obtained beyond the river. He +had long promised Olenin this treat, and felt in the mood for it, +so that he was sorry to find Olenin writing. + +'Write on, write on, my lad,' he whispered, as if he thought that +a spirit sat between him and the paper and must not be frightened +away, and he softly and silently sat down on the floor. When Daddy +Eroshka was drunk his favourite position was on the floor. Olenin +looked round, ordered some wine to be brought, and continued to +write. Eroshka found it dull to drink by himself and he wished to +talk. + +'I've been to the betrothal at the cornet's. But there! They're +shwine!--Don't want them!--Have come to you.' + +'And where did you get your balalayka asked Olenin, still writing. + +'I've been beyond the river and got it there, brother mine,' he +answered, also very quietly. 'I'm a master at it. Tartar or +Cossack, squire or soldiers' songs, any kind you please.' + +Olenin looked at him again, smiled, and went on writing. + +That smile emboldened the old man. + +'Come, leave off, my lad, leave off!' he said with sudden +firmness. + +'Well, perhaps I will.' + +'Come, people have injured you but leave them alone, spit at them! +Come, what's the use of writing and writing, what's the good?' + +And he tried to mimic Olenin by tapping the floor with his thick +fingers, and then twisted his big face to express contempt. + +'What's the good of writing quibbles. Better have a spree and show +you're a man!' + +No other conception of writing found place in his head except that +of legal chicanery. + +Olenin burst out laughing and so did Eroshka. Then, jumping up +from the floor, the latter began to show off his skill on the +balalayka and to sing Tartar songs. + +'Why write, my good fellow! You'd better listen to what I'll sing +to you. When you're dead you won't hear any more songs. Make merry +now!' + +First he sang a song of his own composing accompanied by a dance: + +'Ah, dee, dee, dee, dee, dee, dim, Say where did they last see +him? In a booth, at the fair, He was selling pins, there.' + +Then he sang a song he had learnt from his former sergeant-major: + +'Deep I fell in love on Monday, Tuesday nothing did but sigh, +Wednesday I popped the question, Thursday waited her reply. +Friday, late, it came at last, Then all hope for me was past! +Saturday my life to take I determined like a man, But for my +salvation's sake Sunday morning changed my plan!' + +Then he sang again: + +'Oh dee, dee, dee, dee, dee, dim, Say where did they last see +him?' + +And after that, winking, twitching his shoulders, and footing it +to the tune, he sang: + +'I will kiss you and embrace, Ribbons red twine round you; And +I'll call you little Grace. Oh, you little Grace now do Tell me, +do you love me true?' + +And he became so excited that with a sudden dashing movement he +started dancing around the room accompanying himself the while. + +Songs like 'Dee, dee, dee'--'gentlemen's songs'--he sang for +Olenin's benefit, but after drinking three more tumblers of +chikhir he remembered old times and began singing real Cossack and +Tartar songs. In the midst of one of his favourite songs his voice +suddenly trembled and he ceased singing, and only continued +strumming on the balalayka. + +'Oh, my dear friend!' he said. + +The peculiar sound of his voice made Olenin look round. + +The old man was weeping. Tears stood in his eyes and one tear was +running down his cheek. + +'You are gone, my young days, and will never come back!' he said, +blubbering and halting. 'Drink, why don't you drink!' he suddenly +shouted with a deafening roar, without wiping away his tears. + +There was one Tartar song that specially moved him. It had few +words, but its charm lay in the sad refrain. 'Ay day, dalalay!' +Eroshka translated the words of the song: 'A youth drove his sheep +from the aoul to the mountains: the Russians came and burnt the +aoul, they killed all the men and took all the women into bondage. +The youth returned from the mountains. Where the aoul had stood +was an empty space; his mother not there, nor his brothers, nor +his house; one tree alone was left standing. The youth sat beneath +the tree and wept. "Alone like thee, alone am I left,'" and +Eroshka began singing: 'Ay day, dalalay!' and the old man repeated +several times this wailing, heart-rending refrain. + +When he had finished the refrain Eroshka suddenly seized a gun +that hung on the wall, rushed hurriedly out into the yard and +fired off both barrels into the air. Then again he began, more +dolefully, his 'Ay day, dalalay--ah, ah,' and ceased. + +Olenin followed him into the porch and looked up into the starry +sky in the direction where the shots had flashed. In the cornet's +house there were lights and the sound of voices. In the yard girls +were crowding round the porch and the windows, and running +backwards and forwards between the hut and the outhouse. Some +Cossacks rushed out of the hut and could not refrain from +shouting, re-echoing the refrain of Daddy Eroshka's song and his +shots. + +'Why are you not at the betrothal?' asked Olenin. + +'Never mind them! Never mind them!' muttered the old man, who had +evidently been offended by something there. 'Don't like them, I +don't. Oh, those people! Come back into the hut! Let them make +merry by themselves and we'll make merry by ourselves.' + +Olenin went in. + +'And Lukashka, is he happy? Won't he come to see me?' he asked. + +'What, Lukashka? They've lied to him and said I am getting his +girl for you,' whispered the old man. 'But what's the girl? She +will be ours if we want her. Give enough money--and she's ours. +I'll fix it up for you. Really!' + +'No, Daddy, money can do nothing if she does not love me. You'd +better not talk like that!' + +'We are not loved, you and I. We are forlorn,' said Daddy Eroshka +suddenly, and again he began to cry. + +Listening to the old man's talk Olenin had drunk more than usual. +'So now my Lukashka is happy,' thought he; yet he felt sad. The +old man had drunk so much that evening that he fell down on the +floor and Vanyusha had to call soldiers in to help, and spat as +they dragged the old man out. He was so angry with the old man for +his bad behaviour that he did not even say a single French word. + + + + +Chapter XXIX + + +It was August. For days the sky had been cloudless, the sun +scorched unbearably and from early morning the warm wind raised a +whirl of hot sand from the sand-drifts and from the road, and bore +it in the air through the reeds, the trees, and the village. The +grass and the leaves on the trees were covered with dust, the +roads and dried-up salt marshes were baked so hard that they rang +when trodden on. The water had long since subsided in the Terek +and rapidly vanished and dried up in the ditches. The slimy banks +of the pond near the village were trodden bare by the cattle and +all day long you could hear the splashing of water and the +shouting of girls and boys bathing. The sand-drifts and the reeds +were already drying up in the steppes, and the cattle, lowing, ran +into the fields in the day-time. The boars migrated into the +distant reed-beds and to the hills beyond the Terek. Mosquitoes +and gnats swarmed in thick clouds over the low lands and villages. +The snow-peaks were hidden in grey mist. The air was rarefied and +smoky. It was said that abreks had crossed the now shallow river +and were prowling on this side of it. Every night the sun set in a +glowing red blaze. It was the busiest time of the year. The +villagers all swarmed in the melon-fields and the vineyards. The +vineyards thickly overgrown with twining verdure lay in cool, deep +shade. Everywhere between the broad translucent leaves, ripe, +heavy, black clusters peeped out. Along the dusty road from the +vineyards the creaking carts moved slowly, heaped up with black +grapes. Clusters of them, crushed by the wheels, lay in the dirt. +Boys and girls in smocks stained with grape-juice, with grapes in +their hands and mouths, ran after their mothers. On the road you +continually came across tattered labourers with baskets of grapes +on their powerful shoulders; Cossack maidens, veiled with +kerchiefs to their eyes, drove bullocks harnessed to carts laden +high with grapes. Soldiers who happened to meet these carts asked +for grapes, and the maidens, clambering up without stopping their +carts, would take an armful of grapes and drop them into the +skirts of the soldiers' coats. In some homesteads they had already +begun pressing the grapes; and the smell of the emptied skins +filled the air. One saw the blood-red troughs in the pent-houses +in the yards and Nogay labourers with their trousers rolled up and +their legs stained with the juice. Grunting pigs gorged themselves +with the empty skins and rolled about in them. The flat roofs of +the outhouses were all spread over with the dark amber clusters +drying in the sun. Daws and magpies crowded round the roofs, +picking the seeds and fluttering from one place to another. + +The fruits of the year's labour were being merrily gathered in, +and this year the fruit was unusually fine and plentiful. + +In the shady green vineyards amid a sea of vines, laughter, songs, +merriment, and the voices of women were to be heard on all sides, +and glimpses of their bright-coloured garments could be seen. + +Just at noon Maryanka was sitting in their vineyard in the shade +of a peach-tree, getting out the family dinner from under an +unharnessed cart. Opposite her, on a spread-out horse-cloth, sat +the cornet (who had returned from the school) washing his hands by +pouring water on them from a little jug. Her little brother, who +had just come straight out of the pond, stood wiping his face with +his wide sleeves, and gazed anxiously at his sister and his mother +and breathed deeply, awaiting his dinner. The old mother, with her +sleeves rolled up over her strong sunburnt arms, was arranging +grapes, dried fish, and clotted cream on a little low, circular +Tartar table. The cornet wiped his hands, took off his cap, +crossed himself, and moved nearer to the table. The boy seized the +jug and eagerly began to drink. The mother and daughter crossed +their legs under them and sat down by the table. Even in the shade +it was intolerably hot. The air above the vineyard smelt +unpleasant: the strong warm wind passing amid the branches brought +no coolness, but only monotonously bent the tops of the pear, +peach, and mulberry trees with which the vineyard was sprinkled. +The comet, she felt unbearably hot. Her face was burning, and she +did not know where to put her feet, her eyes were moist with +sleepiness and weariness, her lips parted involuntarily, and her +chest heaved heavily and deeply. + +The busy time of year had begun a fortnight ago and the continuous +heavy labour had filled the girl's life. At dawn she jumped up, +washed her face with cold water, wrapped herself in a shawl, and +ran out barefoot to see to the cattle. Then she hurriedly put on +her shoes and her beshmet and, taking a small bundle of bread, she +harnessed the bullocks and drove away to the vineyards for the +whole day. There she cut the grapes and carried the baskets with +only an hour's interval for rest, and in the evening she returned +to the village, bright and not tired, dragging the bullocks by a +rope or driving them with a long stick. After attending to the +cattle, she took some sunflower seeds in the wide sleeve of her +smock and went to the corner of the street to crack them and have +some fun with the other girls. But as soon as it was dusk she +returned home, and after having supper with her parents and her +brother in the dark outhouse, she went into the hut, healthy and +free from care, and climbed onto the oven, where half drowsing she +listened to their lodger's conversation. As soon as he went away +she would throw herself down on her bed and sleep soundly and +quietly till morning. And so it went on day after day. She had not +seen Lukashka since the day of their betrothal, but calmly awaited +the wedding. She had got used to their lodger and felt his intent +looks with pleasure. + + + + +Chapter XXX + + +Although there was no escape from the heat and the mosquitoes +swarmed in the cool shadow of the wagons, and her little brother +tossing about beside her kept pushing her, Maryanka having drawn +her kerchief over her head was just falling asleep, when suddenly +their neighbour Ustenka came running towards her and, diving under +the wagon, lay down beside her. + +'Sleep, girls, sleep!' said Ustenka, making herself comfortable +under the wagon. 'Wait a bit,' she exclaimed, 'this won't do!' + +She jumped up, plucked some green branches, and stuck them through +the wheels on both sides of the wagon and hung her beshmet over +them. + +'Let me in,' she shouted to the little boy as she again crept +under the wagon. 'Is this the place for a Cossack--with the girls? +Go away!' + +When alone under the wagon with her friend, Ustenka suddenly put +both her arms round her, and clinging close to her began kissing +her cheeks and neck. + +'Darling, sweetheart,' she kept repeating, between bursts of +shrill, clear laughter. + +'Why, you've learnt it from Grandad,' said Maryanka, struggling. +'Stop it!' + +And they both broke into such peals of laughter that Maryanka's +mother shouted to them to be quiet. + +'Are you jealous?' asked Ustenka in a whisper. + +'What humbug! Let me sleep. What have you come for?' + +But Ustenka kept on, 'I say! But I wanted to tell you such a +thing.' + +Maryanka raised herself on her elbow and arranged the kerchief +which had slipped off. + +'Well, what is it?' + +'I know something about your lodger!' + +'There's nothing to know,' said Maryanka. + +'Oh, you rogue of a girl!' said Ustenka, nudging her with her +elbow and laughing. 'Won't tell anything. Does he come to you?' + +'He does. What of that?' said Maryanka with a sudden blush. + +'Now I'm a simple lass. I tell everybody. Why should I pretend?' +said Ustenka, and her bright rosy face suddenly became pensive. +'Whom do I hurt? I love him, that's all about it.' + +'Grandad, do you mean?' + +'Well, yes!' + +'And the sin?' + +'Ah, Maryanka! When is one to have a good time if not while one's +still free? When I marry a Cossack I shall bear children and shall +have cares. There now, when you get married to Lukashka not even a +thought of joy will enter your head: children will come, and +work!' + +'Well? Some who are married live happily. It makes no difference!' +Maryanka replied quietly. + +'Do tell me just this once what has passed between you and +Lukishka?' + +'What has passed? A match was proposed. Father put it off for a +year, but now it's been settled and they'll marry us in autumn.' + +'But what did he say to you?' Maryanka smiled. + +'What should he say? He said he loved me. He kept asking me to +come to the vineyards with him.' + +'Just see what pitch! But you didn't go, did you? And what a dare- +devil he has become: the first among the braves. He makes merry +out there in the army too! The other day our Kirka came home; he +says: "What a horse Lukashka's got in exchange!" But all the same +I expect he frets after you. And what else did he say?' + +'Must you know everything?' said Maryanka laughing. 'One night he +came to my window tipsy, and asked me to let him in.' 'And you +didn't let him?' + +'Let him, indeed! Once I have said a thing I keep to it firm as a +rock,' answered Maryanka seriously. + +'A fine fellow! If he wanted her, no girl would refuse him.' + +'Well, let him go to the others,' replied Maryanka proudly. + +'You don't pity him?' + +'I do pity him, but I'll have no nonsense. It is wrong.' Ustenka +suddenly dropped her head on her friend's breast, seized hold of +her, and shook with smothered laughter. 'You silly fool!' she +exclaimed, quite out of breath. 'You don't want to be happy,' and +she began tickling Maryanka. 'Oh, leave off!' said Maryanka, +screaming and laughing. 'You've crushed Lazutka.' + +'Hark at those young devils! Quite frisky! Not tired yet!' came +the old woman's sleepy voice from the wagon. + +'Don't want happiness,' repeated Ustenka in a whisper, +insistently. 'But you are lucky, that you are! How they love you! +You are so crusty, and yet they love you. Ah, if I were in your +place I'd soon turn the lodger's head! I noticed him when you were +at our house. He was ready to eat you with his eyes. What things +Grandad has given me! And yours they say is the richest of the +Russians. His orderly says they have serfs of their own.' + +Maryanka raised herself, and after thinking a moment, smiled. + +'Do you know what he once told me: the lodger I mean?' she said, +biting a bit of grass. 'He said, "I'd like to be Lukashka the +Cossack, or your brother Lazutka--." What do you think he meant?' + +'Oh, just chattering what came into his head,' answered Ustenka. +'What does mine not say! Just as if he was possessed!' + +Maryanka dropped her hand on her folded beshmet, threw her arm +over Ustenka's shoulder, and shut her eyes. + +'He wanted to come and work in the vineyard to-day: father invited +him,' she said, and after a short silence she fell asleep. + + + + +Chapter XXXI + + +The sun had come out from behind the pear-tree that had shaded the +wagon, and even through the branches that Ustenka had fixed up it +scorched the faces of the sleeping girls. Maryanka woke up and +began arranging the kerchief on her head. Looking about her, +beyond the pear-tree she noticed their lodger, who with his gun on +his shoulder stood talking to her father. She nudged Ustenka and +smilingly pointed him out to her. + +'I went yesterday and didn't find a single one,' Olenin was saying +as he looked about uneasily, not seeing Maryanka through the +branches. + +'Ah, you should go out there in that direction, go right as by +compasses, there in a disused vineyard denominated as the Waste, +hares are always to be found,' said the cornet, having at once +changed his manner of speech. + +'A fine thing to go looking for hares in these busy times! You had +better come and help us, and do some work with the girls,' the old +woman said merrily. 'Now then, girls, up with you!' she cried. + +Maryanka and Ustenka under the cart were whispering and could +hardly restrain their laughter. + +Since it had become known that Olenin had given a horse worth +fifty rubles to Lukashka, his hosts had become more amiable and +the cornet in particular saw with pleasure his daughter's growing +intimacy with Olenin. 'But I don't know how to do the work,' +replied Olenin, trying not to look through the green branches +under the wagon where he had now noticed Maryanka's blue smock and +red kerchief. + +'Come, I'll give you some peaches,' said the old woman. + +'It's only according to the ancient Cossack hospitality. It's her +old woman's silliness,' said the cornet, explaining and apparently +correcting his wife's words. 'In Russia, I expect, it's not so +much peaches as pineapple jam and preserves you have been +accustomed to eat at your pleasure.' + +'So you say hares are to be found in the disused vineyard?' asked +Olenin. 'I will go there,' and throwing a hasty glance through the +green branches he raised his cap and disappeared between the +regular rows of green vines. + +The sun had already sunk behind the fence of the vineyards, and +its broken rays glittered through the translucent leaves when +Olenin returned to his host's vineyard. The wind was falling and a +cool freshness was beginning to spread around. By some instinct +Olenin recognized from afar Maryanka's blue smock among the rows +of vine, and, picking grapes on his way, he approached her. His +highly excited dog also now and then seized a low-hanging cluster +of grapes in his slobbering mouth. Maryanka, her face flushed, her +sleeves rolled up, and her kerchief down below her chin, was +rapidly cutting the heavy clusters and laying them in a basket. +Without letting go of the vine she had hold of, she stopped to +smile pleasantly at him and resumed her work. Olenin drew near and +threw his gun behind his back to have his hands free. 'Where are +your people? May God aid you! Are you alone?' he meant to say but +did not say, and only raised his cap in silence. + +He was ill at ease alone with Maryanka, but as if purposely to +torment himself he went up to her. + +'You'll be shooting the women with your gun like that,' said +Maryanka. + +'No, I shan't shoot them.' + +They were both silent. + +Then after a pause she said: 'You should help me.' + +He took out his knife and began silently to cut off the clusters. +He reached from under the leaves low down a thick bunch weighing +about three pounds, the grapes of which grew so close that they +flattened each other for want of space. He showed it to Maryanka. + +'Must they all be cut? Isn't this one too green?' + +'Give it here.' + +Their hands touched. Olenin took her hand, and she looked at him +smiling. + +'Are you going to be married soon?' he asked. + +She did not answer, but turned away with a stern look. + +'Do you love Lukashka?' + +'What's that to you?' + +'I envy him!' + +'Very likely!' 'No really. You are so beautiful!' + +And he suddenly felt terribly ashamed of having said it, so +commonplace did the words seem to him. He flushed, lost control of +himself, and seized both her hands. + +'Whatever I am, I'm not for you. Why do you make fun of me?' +replied Maryanka, but her look showed how certainly she knew he +was not making fun. + +'Making fun? If you only knew how I--' + +The words sounded still more commonplace, they accorded still less +with what he felt, but yet he continued, 'I don't know what I +would not do for you--' + +'Leave me alone, you pitch!' + +But her face, her shining eyes, her swelling bosom, her shapely +legs, said something quite different. It seemed to him that she +understood how petty were all things he had said, but that she was +superior to such considerations. It seemed to him she had long +known all he wished and was not able to tell her, but wanted to +hear how he would say it. 'And how can she help knowing,' he +thought, 'since I only want to tell her all that she herself is? +But she does not wish to under-stand, does not wish to reply.' + +'Hallo!' suddenly came Ustenka's high voice from behind the vine +at no great distance, followed by her shrill laugh. 'Come and help +me, Dmitri Andreich. I am all alone,' she cried, thrusting her +round, naive little face through the vines. + +Olenin did not answer nor move from his place. + +Maryanka went on cutting and continually looked up at Olenin. He +was about to say something, but stopped, shrugged his shoulders +and, having jerked up his gun, walked out of the vineyard with +rapid strides. + + + + +Chapter XXXII + + +He stopped once or twice, listening to the ringing laughter of +Maryanka and Ustenka who, having come together, were shouting +something. Olenin spent the whole evening hunting in the forest +and returned home at dusk without having killed anything. When +crossing the road he noticed her open the door of the outhouse, +and her blue smock showed through it. He called to Vanyusha very +loud so as to let her know that he was back, and then sat down in +the porch in his usual place. His hosts now returned from the +vineyard; they came out of the outhouse and into their hut, but +did not ask of the latch and knocked. The floor hardly creaked +under the bare cautious footsteps which approached the door. The +latch clicked, the door creaked, and he noticed a faint smell of +marjoram and pumpkin, and Maryanka's whole figure appeared in the +doorway. He saw her only for an instant in the moonlight. She +slammed the door and, muttering something, ran lightly back again. +Olenin began rapping softly but nothing responded. He ran to the +window and listened. Suddenly he was startled by a shrill, squeaky +man's voice. + +'Fine!' exclaimed a rather small young Cossack in a white cap, +coming across the yard close to Olenin. 'I saw ... fine!' + +Olenin recognized Nazarka, and was silent, not knowing what to do +or say. + +'Fine! I'll go and tell them at the office, and I'll tell her +father! That's a fine cornet's daughter! One's not enough for +her.' + +'What do you want of me, what are you after?' uttered Olenin. + +'Nothing; only I'll tell them at the office.' + +Nazarka spoke very loud, and evidently did so intentionally, +adding: 'Just see what a clever cadet!' + +Olenin trembled and grew pale. + +'Come here, here!' He seized the Cossack firmly by the arm and +drew him towards his hut. + +'Nothing happened, she did not let me in, and I too mean no harm. +She is an honest girl--' + +'Eh, discuss--' + +'Yes, but all the same I'll give you something now. Wait a bit!' + +Nazarka said nothing. Olenin ran into his hut and brought out ten +rubles, which he gave to the Cossack. + +'Nothing happened, but still I was to blame, so I give this!--Only +for God's sake don't let anyone know, for nothing happened ... ' + +'I wish you joy,' said Nazarka laughing, and went away. + +Nazarka had come to the village that night at Lukashka's bidding +to find a place to hide a stolen horse, and now, passing by on his +way home, had heard the sound of footsteps. When he returned next +morning to his company he bragged to his chum, and told him how +cleverly he had got ten rubles. Next morning Olenin met his hosts +and they knew nothing about the events of the night. He did not +speak to Maryanka, and she only laughed a little when she looked +at him. Next night he also passed without sleep, vainly wandering +about the yard. The day after he purposely spent shooting, and in +the evening he went to see Beletski to escape from his own +thoughts. He was afraid of himself, and promised himself not to go +to his hosts' hut any more. + +That night he was roused by the sergeant-major. His company was +ordered to start at once on a raid. Olenin was glad this had +happened, and thought he would not again return to the village. + +The raid lasted four days. The commander, who was a relative of +Olenin's, wished to see him and offered to let him remain with the +staff, but this Olenin declined. He found that he could not live +away from the village, and asked to be allowed to return to it. +For having taken part in the raid he received a soldier's cross, +which he had formerly greatly desired. Now he was quite +indifferent about it, and even more indifferent about his +promotion, the order for which had still not arrived. Accompanied +by Vanyusha he rode back to the cordon without any accident +several hours in advance of the rest of the company. He spent the +whole evening in his porch watching Maryanka, and he again walked +about the yard, without aim or thought, all night. + + + + +Chapter XXXIII + + +It was late when he awoke the next day. His hosts were no longer +in. He did not go shooting, but now took up a book, and now went +out into the porch, and now again re-entered the hut and lay down +on the bed. Vanyusha thought he was ill. + +Towards evening Olenin got up, resolutely began writing, and wrote +on till late at night. He wrote a letter, but did not post it +because he felt that no one would have understood what he wanted +to say, and besides it was not necessary that anyone but himself +should understand it. This is what he wrote: + +'I receive letters of condolence from Russia. They are afraid that +I shall perish, buried in these wilds. They say about me: "He will +become coarse; he will be behind the times in everything; he will +take to drink, and who knows but that he may marry a Cossack +girl." It was not for nothing, they say, that Ermolov declared: +"Anyone serving in the Caucasus for ten years either becomes a +confirmed drunkard or marries a loose woman." How terrible! Indeed +it won't do for me to ruin myself when I might have the great +happiness of even becoming the Countess B---'s husband, or a Court +chamberlain, or a Marechal de noblesse of my district. Oh, how +repulsive and pitiable you all seem to me! You do not know what +happiness is and what life is! One must taste life once in all its +natural beauty, must see and understand what I see every day +before me--those eternally unapproachable snowy peaks, and a +majestic woman in that primitive beauty in which the first woman +must have come from her creator's hands--and then it becomes clear +who is ruining himself and who is living truly or falsely--you or +I. If you only knew how despicable and pitiable you, in your +delusions, seem to me! When I picture to myself--in place of my +hut, my forests, and my love--those drawing-rooms, those women +with their pomatum-greased hair eked out with false curls, those +unnaturally grimacing lips, those hidden, feeble, distorted limbs, +and that chatter of obligatory drawing-room conversation which has +no right to the name--I feel unendurably revolted. I then see +before me those obtuse faces, those rich eligible girls whose +looks seem to say: + +"It's all right, you may come near though I am rich and eligible"- +-and that arranging and rearranging of seats, that shameless +match-making and that eternal tittle-tattle and pretence; those +rules--with whom to shake hands, to whom only to nod, with whom to +converse (and all this done deliberately with a conviction of its +inevitability), that continual ennui in the blood passing on from +generation to generation. Try to understand or believe just this +one thing: you need only see and comprehend what truth and beauty +are, and all that you now say and think and all your wishes for me +and for yourselves will fly to atoms! Happiness is being with +nature, seeing her, and conversing with her. "He may even (God +forbid) marry a common Cossack girl, and be quite lost socially" I +can imagine them saying of me with sincere pity! Yet the one thing +I desire is to be quite "lost" in your sense of the word. I wish +to marry a Cossack girl, and dare not because it would be a height +of happiness of which I am unworthy. + +'Three months have passed since I first saw the Cossack girl, +Maryanka. The views and prejudices of the world I had left were +still fresh in me. I did not then believe that I could love that +woman. I delighted in her beauty just as I delighted in the beauty +of the mountains and the sky, nor could I help delighting in her, +for she is as beautiful as they. I found that the sight of her +beauty had become a necessity of my life and I began asking myself +whether I did not love her. But I could find nothing within myself +at all like love as I had imagined it to be. Mine was not the +restlessness of loneliness and desire for marriage, nor was it +platonic, still less a carnal love such as I have experienced. I +needed only to see her, to hear her, to know that she was near-- +and if I was not happy, I was at peace. + +'After an evening gathering at which I met her and touched her, I +felt that between that woman and myself there existed an +indissoluble though unacknowledged bond against which I could not +struggle, yet I did struggle. I asked myself: "Is it possible to +love a woman who will never understand the profoundest interests +of my life? Is it possible to love a woman simply for her beauty, +to love the statue of a woman?" But I was already in love with +her, though I did not yet trust to my feelings. + +'After that evening when I first spoke to her our relations +changed. Before that she had been to me an extraneous but majestic +object of external nature: but since then she has become a human +being. I began to meet her, to talk to her, and sometimes to go to +work for her father and to spend whole evenings with them, and in +this intimate intercourse she remained still in my eyes just as +pure, inaccessible, and majestic. She always responded with equal +calm, pride, and cheerful equanimity. Sometimes she was friendly, +but generally her every look, every word, and every movement +expressed equanimity--not contemptuous, but crushing and +bewitching. Every day with a feigned smile on my lips I tried to +play a part, and with torments of passion and desire in my heart I +spoke banteringly to her. She saw that I was dissembling, but +looked straight at me cheerfully and simply. This position became +unbearable. I wished not to deceive her but to tell her all I +thought and felt. I was extremely agitated. We were in the +vineyard when I began to tell her of my love, in words I am now +ashamed to remember. I am ashamed because I ought not to have +dared to speak so to her because she stood far above such words +and above the feeling they were meant to express. I said no more, +but from that day my position has been intolerable. I did not wish +to demean myself by continuing our former flippant relations, and +at the same time I felt that I had not yet reached the level of +straight and simple relations with her. I asked myself +despairingly, "What am I to do?" In foolish dreams I imagined her +now as my mistress and now as my wife, but rejected both ideas +with disgust. To make her a wanton woman would be dreadful. It +would be murder. To turn her into a fine lady, the wife of Dmitri +Andreich Olenin, like a Cossack woman here who is married to one +of our officers, would be still worse. Now could I turn Cossack +like Lukashka, and steal horses, get drunk on chikhir, sing +rollicking songs, kill people, and when drunk climb in at her +window for the night without a thought of who and what I am, it +would be different: then we might understand one another and I +might be happy. + +'I tried to throw myself into that kind of life but was still more +conscious of my own weakness and artificiality. I cannot forget +myself and my complex, distorted past, and my future appears to me +still more hopeless. Every day I have before me the distant snowy +mountains and this majestic, happy woman. But not for me is the +only happiness possible in the world; I cannot have this woman! +What is most terrible and yet sweetest in my condition is that I +feel that I understand her but that she will never understand me; +not because she is inferior: on the contrary she ought not to +understand me. She is happy, she is like nature: consistent, calm, +and self-contained; and I, a weak distorted being, want her to +understand my deformity and my torments! I have not slept at +night, but have aimlessly passed under her windows not rendering +account to myself of what was happening to me. On the 18th our +company started on a raid, and I spent three days away from the +village. I was sad and apathetic, the usual songs, cards, +drinking-bouts, and talk of rewards in the regiment, were more +repulsive to me than usual. Yesterday I returned home and saw her, +my hut. Daddy Eroshka, and the snowy mountains, from my porch, and +was seized by such a strong, new feeling of joy that I understood +it all. I love this woman; I feel real love for the first and only +time in my life. I know what has befallen me. I do not fear to be +degraded by this feeling, I am not ashamed of my love, I am proud +of it. It is not my fault that I love. It has come about against +my will. I tried to escape from my love by self-renunciation, and +tried to devise a joy in the Cossack Lukashka's and Maryanka's +love, but thereby only stirred up my own love and jealousy. This +is not the ideal, the so-called exalted love which I have known +before; not that sort of attachment in which you admire your own +love and feel that the source of your emotion is within yourself +and do everything yourself. I have felt that too. It is still less +a desire for enjoyment: it is something different. Perhaps in her +I love nature: the personification of all that is beautiful in +nature; but yet I am not acting by my own will, but some elemental +force loves through me; the whole of God's world, all nature, +presses this love into my soul and says, "Love her." I love her +not with my mind or my imagination, but with my whole being. +Loving her I feel myself to be an integral part of all God's joyous +world. I wrote before about the new convictions to which my solitary +life had brought me, but no one knows with what labour they shaped +themselves within me and with what joy I realized them and saw a +new way of life opening out before me; nothing was dearer to me than +those convictions... Well! ... love has come and neither they nor any +regrets for them remain! It is even difficult for me to believe that +I could prize such a one-sided, cold, and abstract state of mind. +Beauty came and scattered to the winds all that laborious inward toil, +and no regret remains for what has vanished! Self-renunciation is +all nonsense and absurdity! That is pride, a refuge from well-merited +unhappiness, and salvation from the envy of others' happiness: "Live +for others, and do good!"--Why? when in my soul there is only love for +myself and the desire to love her and to live her life with her? +Not for others, not for Lukashka, I now desire happiness. I do not +now love those others. Formerly I should have told myself that +this is wrong. I should have tormented myself with the questions: +What will become of her, of me, and of Lukashka? Now I don't care. +I do not live my own life, there is something stronger than me +which directs me. I suffer; but formerly I was dead and only now +do I live. Today I will go to their house and tell her +everything.' + + + + +Chapter XXXIV + + +Late that evening, after writing this letter, Olenin went to his +hosts' hut. The old woman was sitting on a bench behind the oven +unwinding cocoons. Maryanka with her head uncovered sat sewing by +the light of a candle. On seeing Olenin she jumped up, took her +kerchief and stepped to the oven. 'Maryanka dear,' said her +mother, 'won't you sit here with me a bit?' 'No, I'm bareheaded,' +she replied, and sprang up on the oven. Olenin could only see a +knee, and one of her shapely legs hanging down from the oven. He +treated the old woman to tea. She treated her guest to clotted cream +which she sent Maryanka to fetch. But having put a plateful on the +table Maryanka again sprang on the oven from whence Olenin felt her +eyes upon him. They talked about household matters. Granny Ulitka +became animated and went into raptures of hospitality. She brought +Olenin preserved grapes and a grape tart and some of her best wine, +and pressed him to eat and drink with the rough yet proud hospitality +of country folk, only found among those who produce their bread by +the labour of their own hands. The old woman, who had at first struck +Olenin so much by her rudeness, now often touched him by her simple +tenderness towards her daughter. + +'Yes, we need not offend the Lord by grumbling! We have enough of +everything, thank God. We have pressed sufficient CHIKHIR and have +preserved and shall sell three or four barrels of grapes and have +enough left to drink. Don't be in a hurry to leave us. We will +make merry together at the wedding.' + +'And when is the wedding to be?' asked Olenin, feeling his blood +suddenly rush to his face while his heart beat irregularly and +painfully. + +He heard a movement on the oven and the sound of seeds being +cracked. + +'Well, you know, it ought to be next week. We are quite ready,' +replied the old woman, as simply and quietly as though Olenin did +not exist. 'I have prepared and have procured everything for +Maryanka. We will give her away properly. Only there's one thing +not quite right. Our Lukashka has been running rather wild. He has +been too much on the spree! He's up to tricks! The other day a +Cossack came here from his company and said he had been to Nogay.' + +'He must mind he does not get caught,' said Olenin. + +'Yes, that's what I tell him. "Mind, Lukashka, don't you get into +mischief. Well, of course, a young fellow naturally wants to cut a +dash. But there's a time for everything. Well, you've captured or +stolen something and killed an abrek! Well, you're a fine fellow! +But now you should live quietly for a bit, or else there'll be +trouble."' + +'Yes, I saw him a time or two in the division, he was always +merry-making. He has sold another horse,' said Olenin, and glanced +towards the oven. A pair of large, dark, and hostile eyes +glittered as they gazed severely at him. + +He became ashamed of what he had said. 'What of it? He does no one +any harm,' suddenly remarked Maryanka. 'He makes merry with his +own money,' and lowering her legs she jumped down from the oven +and went out banging the door. + +Olenin followed her with his eyes as long as she was in the hut, +and then looked at the door and waited, understanding nothing of +what Granny Ulitka was telling him. + +A few minutes later some visitors arrived: an old man, Granny +Ulitka's brother, with Daddy Eroshka, and following them came +Maryanka and Ustenka. + +'Good evening,' squeaked Ustenka. 'Still on holiday?' she added, +turning to Olenin. + +'Yes, still on holiday,' he replied, and felt, he did not know +why, ashamed and ill at ease. + +He wished to go away but could not. It also seemed to him +impossible to remain silent. The old man helped him by asking for +a drink, and they had a drink. Olenin drank with Eroshka, with the +other Cossack, and again with Eroshka, and the more he drank the +heavier was his heart. But the two old men grew merry. The girls +climbed onto the oven, where they sat whispering and looking at +the men, who drank till it was late. Olenin did not talk, but +drank more than the others. The Cossacks were shouting. The old +woman would not let them have any more chikhir, and at last turned +them out. The girls laughed at Daddy Eroshka, and it was past ten +when they all went out into the porch. The old men invited +themselves to finish their merry-making at Olenin's. Ustenka ran +off home and Eroshka led the old Cossack to Vanyusha. The old +woman went out to tidy up the shed. Maryanka remained alone in the +hut. Olenin felt fresh and joyous, as if he had only just woke up. +He noticed everything, and having let the old men pass ahead he +turned back to the hut where Maryanka was preparing for bed. He +went up to her and wished to say something, but his voice broke. +She moved away from him, sat down cross-legged on her bed in the +corner, and looked at him silently with wild and frightened eyes. +She was evidently afraid of him. Olenin felt this. He felt sorry +and ashamed of himself, and at the same time proud and pleased +that he aroused even that feeling in her. + +'Maryanka!' he said. 'Will you never take pity on me? I can't tell +you how I love you.' + +She moved still farther away. + +'Just hear how the wine is speaking! ... You'll get nothing from +me!' + +'No, it is not the wine. Don't marry Lukashka. I will marry you.' +('What am I saying,' he thought as he uttered these words. 'Shall +I be able to say the same to-morrow?' 'Yes, I shall, I am sure I +shall, and I will repeat them now,' replied an inner voice.) + +'Will you marry me?' + +She looked at him seriously and her fear seemed to have passed. + +'Maryanka, I shall go out of my mind! I am not myself. I will do +whatever you command,' and madly tender words came from his lips +of their own accord. + +'Now then, what are you drivelling about?' she interrupted, +suddenly seizing the arm he was stretching towards her. She did +not push his arm away but pressed it firmly with her strong hard +fingers. 'Do gentlemen marry Cossack girls? Go away!' + +'But will you? Everything...' + +'And what shall we do with Lukashka?' said she, laughing. + +He snatched away the arm she was holding and firmly embraced her +young body, but she sprang away like a fawn and ran barefoot into +the porch: Olenin came to his senses and was terrified at himself. +He again felt himself inexpressibly vile compared to her, yet not +repenting for an instant of what he had said he went home, and +without even glancing at the old men who were drinking in his room +he lay down and fell asleep more soundly than he had done for a +long time. + + + + +Chapter XXXV + + +The next day was a holiday. In the evening all the villagers, +their holiday clothes shining in the sunset, were out in the +street. That season more wine than usual had been produced, and +the people were now free from their labours. In a month the +Cossacks were to start on a campaign and in many families +preparations were being made for weddings. + +Most of the people were standing in the square in front of the +Cossack Government Office and near the two shops, in one of which +cakes and pumpkin seeds were sold, in the other kerchiefs and +cotton prints. On the earth-embankment of the office-building sat +or stood the old men in sober grey, or black coats without gold +trimmings or any kind of ornament. They conversed among themselves +quietly in measured tones, about the harvest, about the young +folk, about village affairs, and about old times, looking with +dignified equanimity at the younger generation. Passing by them, +the women and girls stopped and bent their heads. The young +Cossacks respectfully slackened their pace and raised their caps, +holding them for a while over their heads. The old men then +stopped speaking. Some of them watched the passers-by severely, +others kindly, and in their turn slowly took off their caps and +put them on again. + +The Cossack girls had not yet started dancing their khorovods, but +having gathered in groups, in their bright coloured beshmets with +white kerchiefs on their heads pulled down to their eyes, they sat +either on the ground or on the earth-banks about the huts +sheltered from the oblique rays of the sun, and laughed and +chattered in their ringing voices. Little boys and girls playing +in the square sent their balls high up into the clear sky, and ran +about squealing and shouting. The half-grown girls had started +dancing their khorovods, and were timidly singing in their thin +shrill voices. Clerks, lads not in the service, or home for the +holiday, bright-faced and wearing smart white or new red +Circassian gold-trimmed coats, went about arm in arm in twos or +threes from one group of women or girls to another, and stopped to +joke and chat with the Cossack girls. The Armenian shopkeeper, in +a gold-trimmed coat of fine blue cloth, stood at the open door +through which piles of folded bright-coloured kerchiefs were +visible and, conscious of his own importance and with the pride of +an Oriental tradesman, waited for customers. Two red-bearded, +barefooted Chechens, who had come from beyond the Terek to see the +fete, sat on their heels outside the house of a friend, +negligently smoking their little pipes and occasionally spitting, +watching the villagers and exchanging remarks with one another in +their rapid guttural speech. Occasionally a workaday-looking +soldier in an old overcoat passed across the square among the +bright-clad girls. Here and there the songs of tipsy Cossacks who +were merry-making could already be heard. All the huts were +closed; the porches had been scrubbed clean the day before. Even +the old women were out in the street, which was everywhere +sprinkled with pumpkin and melon seed-shells. The air was warm and +still, the sky deep and clear. Beyond the roofs the dead-white +mountain range, which seemed very near, was turning rosy in the +glow of the evening sun. Now and then from the other side of the +river came the distant roar of a cannon, but above the village, +mingling with one another, floated all sorts of merry holiday +sounds. + +Olenin had been pacing the yard all that morning hoping to see +Maryanka. But she, having put on holiday clothes, went to Mass at +the chapel and afterwards sat with the other girls on an earth- +embankment cracking seeds; sometimes again, together with her +companions, she ran home, and each time gave the lodger a bright +and kindly look. Olenin felt afraid to address her playfully or in +the presence of others. He wished to finish telling her what he +had begun to say the night before, and to get her to give him a +definite answer. He waited for another moment like that of +yesterday evening, but the moment did not come, and he felt that +he could not remain any longer in this uncertainty. She went out +into the street again, and after waiting awhile he too went out +and without knowing where he was going he followed her. He passed +by the corner where she was sitting in her shining blue satin +beshmet, and with an aching heart he heard behind him the girls +laughing. + +Beletski's hut looked out onto the square. As Olenin was passing +it he heard Beletski's voice calling to him, 'Come in,' and in he +went. + +After a short talk they both sat down by the window and were soon +joined by Eroshka, who entered dressed in a new beshmet and sat +down on the floor beside them. + +'There, that's the aristocratic party,' said Beletski, pointing +with his cigarette to a brightly coloured group at the corner. +'Mine is there too. Do you see her? in red. That's a new beshmet. +Why don't you start the khorovod?' he shouted, leaning out of the +window. 'Wait a bit, and then when it grows dark let us go too. +Then we will invite them to Ustenka's. We must arrange a ball for +them!' + +'And I will come to Ustenka's,' said Olenin in a decided tone. +'Will Maryanka be there?' + +'Yes, she'll be there. Do come!' said Beletski, without the least +surprise. 'But isn't it a pretty picture?' he added, pointing to +the motley crowds. + +'Yes, very!' Olenin assented, trying to appear indifferent. + +'Holidays of this kind,' he added, 'always make me wonder why all +these people should suddenly be contented and jolly. To-day for +instance, just because it happens to be the fifteenth of the +month, everything is festive. Eyes and faces and voices and +movements and garments, and the air and the sun, are all in a +holiday mood. And we no longer have any holidays!' + +'Yes,' said Beletski, who did not like such reflections. + +'And why are you not drinking, old fellow?' he said, turning to +Eroshka. + +Eroshka winked at Olenin, pointing to Beletski. 'Eh, he's a proud +one that kunak of yours,' he said. + +Beletski raised his glass. ALLAH BIRDY' he said, emptying it. +(ALLAH BIRDY, 'God has given!'--the usual greeting of Caucasians +when drinking together.) + +'Sau bul' ('Your health'), answered Eroshka smiling, and emptied +his glass. + +'Speaking of holidays!' he said, turning to Olenin as he rose and +looked out of the window, 'What sort of holiday is that! You +should have seen them make merry in the old days! The women used +to come out in their gold--trimmed sarafans. Two rows of gold +coins hanging round their necks and gold-cloth diadems on their +heads, and when they passed they made a noise, "flu, flu," with +their dresses. Every woman looked like a princess. Sometimes +they'd come out, a whole herd of them, and begin singing songs so +that the air seemed to rumble, and they went on making merry all +night. And the Cossacks would roll out a barrel into the yards and +sit down and drink till break of day, or they would go hand--in-- +hand sweeping the village. Whoever they met they seized and took +along with them, and went from house to house. Sometimes they used +to make merry for three days on end. Father used to come home--I +still remember it--quite red and swollen, without a cap, having +lost everything: he'd come and lie down. Mother knew what to do: +she would bring him some fresh caviar and a little chikhir to +sober him up, and would herself run about in the village looking +for his cap. Then he'd sleep for two days! That's the sort of +fellows they were then! But now what are they?' + +'Well, and the girls in the sarafans, did they make merry all by +themselves?' asked Beletski. + +'Yes, they did! Sometimes Cossacks would come on foot or on horse +and say, "Let's break up the khorovods," and they'd go, but the +girls would take up cudgels. Carnival week, some young fellow +would come galloping up, and they'd cudgel his horse and cudgel +him too. But he'd break through, seize the one he loved, and carry +her off. And his sweetheart would love him to his heart's content! +Yes, the girls in those days, they were regular queens!' + + + + +Chapter XXXVI + + +Just then two men rode out of the side street into the square. One +of them was Nazarka. The other, Lukashka, sat slightly sideways on +his well-fed bay Kabarda horse which stepped lightly over the hard +road jerking its beautiful head with its fine glossy mane. The +well-adjusted gun in its cover, the pistol at his back, and the +cloak rolled up behind his saddle showed that Lukashka had not +come from a peaceful place or from one near by. The smart way in +which he sat a little sideways on his horse, the careless motion +with which he touched the horse under its belly with his whip, and +especially his half-closed black eyes, glistening as he looked +proudly around him, all expressed the conscious strength and self- +confidence of youth. 'Ever seen as fine a lad?' his eyes, looking +from side to side, seemed to say. The elegant horse with its +silver ornaments and trappings, the weapons, and the handsome +Cossack himself attracted the attention of everyone in the square. +Nazarka, lean and short, was much less well dressed. As he rode +past the old men, Lukashka paused and raised his curly white +sheepskin cap above his closely cropped black head. + +'Well, have you carried off many Nogay horses?' asked a lean old +man with a frowning, lowering look. + +'Have you counted them, Grandad, that you ask?' replied Lukashka, +turning away. + +'That's all very well, but you need not take my lad along with +you,' the old man muttered with a still darker frown. + +'Just see the old devil, he knows everything,' muttered Lukashka +to himself, and a worried expression came over his face; but then, +noticing a corner where a number of Cossack girls were standing, +he turned his horse towards them. + +'Good evening, girls!' he shouted in his powerful, resonant voice, +suddenly checking his horse. 'You've grown old without me, you +witches!' and he laughed. + +'Good evening, Lukashka! Good evening, laddie!' the merry voices +answered. 'Have you brought much money? Buy some sweets for the +girls! ... Have you come for long? True enough, it's long since we +saw you....' + +'Nazarka and I have just flown across to make a night of it,' +replied Lukashka, raising his whip and riding straight at the +girls. + +'Why, Maryanka has quite forgotten you,' said Ustenka, nudging +Maryanka with her elbow and breaking into a shrill laugh. + +Maryanka moved away from the horse and throwing back her head +calmly looked at the Cossack with her large sparkling eyes. + +'True enough, you have not been home for a long time! Why are you +trampling us under your horse?' she remarked dryly, and turned +away. + +Lukashka had appeared particularly merry. His face shone with +audacity and joy. Obviously staggered by Maryanka's cold reply he +suddenly knitted his brow. + +'Step up on my stirrup and I'll carry you away to the mountains. +Mammy!' he suddenly exclaimed, and as if to disperse his dark +thoughts he caracoled among the girls. Stooping down towards +Maryanka, he said, 'I'll kiss, oh, how I'll kiss you! ...' + +Maryanka's eyes met his and she suddenly blushed and stepped back. + +'Oh, bother you! you'll crush my feet,' she said, and bending her +head looked at her well-shaped feet in their tightly fitting light +blue stockings with clocks and her new red slippers trimmed with +narrow silver braid. + +Lukashka turned towards Ustenka, and Maryanka sat down next to a +woman with a baby in her arms. The baby stretched his plump little +hands towards the girl and seized a necklace string that hung down +onto her blue beshmet. Maryanka bent towards the child and glanced +at Lukashka from the comer of her eyes. Lukashka just then was +getting out from under his coat, from the pocket of his black +beshmet, a bundle of sweetmeats and seeds. + +'There, I give them to all of you,' he said, handing the bundle to +Ustenka and smiling at Maryanka. + +A confused expression again appeared on the girl's face. It was as +though a mist gathered over her beautiful eyes. She drew her +kerchief down below her lips, and leaning her head over the fair- +skinned face of the baby that still held her by her coin necklace +she suddenly began to kiss it greedily. The baby pressed his +little hands against the girl's high breasts, and opening his +toothless mouth screamed loudly. + +"You're smothering the boy!" said the little one's mother, taking +him away; and she unfastened her beshmet to give him the breast. +"You'd better have a chat with the young fellow." + +"I'll only go and put up my horse and then Nazarka and I will come +back; we'll make merry all night," said Lukashka, touching his +horse with his whip and riding away from the girls. + +Turning into a side street, he and Nazarka rode up to two huts +that stood side by side. + +"Here we are all right, old fellow! Be quick and come soon!" +called Lukashka to his comrade, dismounting in front of one of the +huts; then he carefully led his horse in at the gate of the wattle +fence of his own home. + +"How d'you do, Stepka?" he said to his dumb sister, who, smartly +dressed like the others, came in from the street to take his +horse; and he made signs to her to take the horse to the hay, but +not to unsaddle it. + +The dumb girl made her usual humming noise, smacked her lips as +she pointed to the horse and kissed it on the nose, as much as to +say that she loved it and that it was a fine horse. + +"How d'you do. Mother? How is it that you have not gone out yet?" +shouted Lukashka, holding his gun in place as he mounted the steps +of the porch. + +His old mother opened the door. + +"Dear me! I never expected, never thought, you'd come," said the +old woman. "Why, Kirka said you wouldn't be here." + +"Go and bring some chikhir, Mother. Nazarka is coming here and we +will celebrate the feast day." + +"Directly, Lukashka, directly!" answered the old woman. "Our women +are making merry. I expect our dumb one has gone too." + +She took her keys and hurriedly went to the outhouse. Nazarka, +after putting up his horse and taking the gun off his shoulder, +returned to Lukashka's house and went in. + + + + +Chapter XXXVII + + +'Your health!' said Lukashka, taking from his mother's hands a cup +filled to the brim with chikhir and carefully raising it to his +bowed head. + +'A bad business!' said Nazarka. 'You heard how Daddy Burlak said, +"Have you stolen many horses?" He seems to know!' + +'A regular wizard!' Lukashka replied shortly. 'But what of it!' he +added, tossing his head. 'They are across the river by now. Go and +find them!' + +'Still it's a bad lookout.' + +'What's a bad lookout? Go and take some chikhir to him to-morrow +and nothing will come of it. Now let's make merry. Drink!' shouted +Lukashka, just in the tone in which old Eroshka uttered the word. +'We'll go out into the street and make merry with the girls. You +go and get some honey; or no, I'll send our dumb wench. We'll make +merry till morning.' + +Nazarka smiled. + +'Are we stopping here long?' he asked. + +Till we've had a bit of fun. Run and get some vodka. Here's the +money.' + +Nazarka ran off obediently to get the vodka from Yamka's. + +Daddy Eroshka and Ergushov, like birds of prey, scenting where the +merry-making was going on, tumbled into the hut one after the +other, both tipsy. + +'Bring us another half-pail,' shouted Lukashka to his mother, by +way of reply to their greeting. + +'Now then, tell us where did you steal them, you devil?' shouted +Eroshka. 'Fine fellow, I'm fond of you!' + +'Fond indeed...' answered Lukashka laughing, 'carrying sweets from +cadets to lasses! Eh, you old...' + +'That's not true, not true! ... Oh, Mark,' and the old man burst +out laughing. 'And how that devil begged me. "Go," he said, "and +arrange it." He offered me a gun! But no. I'd have managed it, but +I feel for you. Now tell us where have you been?' And the old man +began speaking in Tartar. + +Lukashka answered him promptly. + +Ergushov, who did not know much Tartar, only occasionally put in a +word in Russian: 'What I say is he's driven away the horses. I +know it for a fact,' he chimed in. + +'Girey and I went together.' (His speaking of Girey Khan as +'Girey' was, to the Cossack mind, evidence of his boldness.) 'Just +beyond the river he kept bragging that he knew the whole of the +steppe and would lead the way straight, but we rode on and the +night was dark, and my Girey lost his way and began wandering in a +circle without getting anywhere: couldn't find the village, and +there we were. We must have gone too much to the right. I believe +we wandered about well--nigh till midnight. Then, thank goodness, +we heard dogs howling.' + +'Fools!' said Daddy Eroshka. 'There now, we too used to lose our +way in the steppe. (Who the devil can follow it?) But I used to +ride up a hillock and start howling like the wolves, like this!' +He placed his hands before his mouth, and howled like a pack of +wolves, all on one note. 'The dogs would answer at once ... Well, +go on--so you found them?' + +'We soon led them away! Nazarka was nearly caught by some Nogay +women, he was!' + +'Caught indeed,' Nazarka, who had just come back, said in an +injured tone. + +'We rode off again, and again Girey lost his way and almost landed +us among the sand-drifts. We thought we were just getting to the +Terek but we were riding away from it all the time!' + +'You should have steered by the stars,' said Daddy Eroshka. + +'That's what I say,' interjected Ergushov, + +'Yes, steer when all is black; I tried and tried all about... and +at last I put the bridle on one of the mares and let my own horse +go free--thinking he'll lead us out, and what do you think! he +just gave a snort or two with his nose to the ground, galloped +ahead, and led us straight to our village. Thank goodness! It was +getting quite light. We barely had time to hide them in the +forest. Nagim came across the river and took them away.' + +Ergushov shook his head. 'It's just what I said. Smart. Did you +get much for them?' + +'It's all here,' said Lukashka, slapping his pocket. + +Just then his mother came into the room, and Lukashka did not +finish what he was saying. + +'Drink!' he shouted. + +'We too, Girich and I, rode out late one night...' began Eroshka. + +'Oh bother, we'll never hear the end of you!' said Lukashka. 'I am +going.' And having emptied his cup and tightened the strap of his +belt he went out. + + + + +Chapter XXXVIII + + +It was already dark when Lukashka went out into the street. The +autumn night was fresh and calm. The full golden moon floated up +behind the tall dark poplars that grew on one side of the square. +From the chimneys of the outhouses smoke rose and spread above the +village, mingling with the mist. Here and there lights shone +through the windows, and the air was laden with the smell of +kisyak, grape-pulp, and mist. The sounds of voices, laughter, +songs, and the cracking of seeds mingled just as they had done in +the daytime, but were now more distinct. Clusters of white +kerchiefs and caps gleamed through the darkness near the houses +and by the fences. + +In the square, before the shop door which was lit up and open, the +black and white figures of Cossack men and maids showed through +the darkness, and one heard from afar their loud songs and +laughter and talk. The girls, hand in hand, went round and round +in a circle stepping lightly in the dusty square. A skinny girl, +the plainest of them all, set the tune: + + 'From beyond the wood, from the forest dark, + From the garden green and the shady park, + There came out one day two young lads so gay. + Young bachelors, hey! brave and smart were they! + And they walked and walked, then stood still, each man, + And they talked and soon to dispute began! + Then a maid came out; as she came along, + Said, "To one of you I shall soon belong!" + 'Twas the fair-faced lad got the maiden fair, + Yes, the fair-faced lad with the golden hair! + Her right hand so white in his own took he, + And he led her round for his mates to see! + And said, "Have you ever in all your life, + Met a lass as fair as my sweet little wife?"' + +The old women stood round listening to the songs. The little boys +and girls ran about chasing one another in the dark. The men stood +by, catching at the girls as the latter moved round, and sometimes +breaking the ring and entering it. On the dark side of the doorway +stood Beletski and Olenin, in their Circassian coats and sheepskin +caps, and talked together in a style of speech unlike that of the +Cossacks, in low but distinct tones, conscious that they were +attracting attention. Next to one another in the khorovod circle +moved plump little Ustenka in her red beshmet and the stately +Maryanka in her new smock and beshmet. Olenin and Beletski were +discussing how to snatch Ustenka and Maryanka out of the ring. +Beletski thought that Olenin wished only to amuse himself, but +Olenin was expecting his fate to be decided. He wanted at any cost +to see Maryanka alone that very day and to tell her everything, +and ask her whether she could and would be his wife. Although that +question had long been answered in the negative in his own mind, +he hoped he would be able to tell her all he felt, and that she +would understand him. + +'Why did you not tell me sooner?' said Beletski. 'I would have got +Ustenka to arrange it for you. You are such a queer fellow! ...' + +'What's to be done! ... Some day, very soon, I'll tell you all +about it. Only now, for Heaven's sake, arrange so that she should +come to Ustenka's.' + +'All right, that's easily done! Well, Maryanka, will you belong to +the "fair-faced lad", and not to Lukashka?' said Beletski, +speaking to Maryanka first for propriety's sake, but having +received no reply he went up to Ustenka and begged her to bring +Maryanka home with her. He had hardly time to finish what he was +saying before the leader began another song and the girls started +pulling each other round in the ring by the hand. + +They sang: + + "Past the garden, by the garden, + A young man came strolling down, + Up the street and through the town. + And the first time as he passed + He did wave his strong right hand. + As the second time he passed + Waved his hat with silken band. + But the third time as he went + He stood still: before her bent. + + "How is it that thou, my dear, + My reproaches dost not fear? + In the park don't come to walk + That we there might have a talk? + Come now, answer me, my dear, + Dost thou hold me in contempt? + Later on, thou knowest, dear, + Thou'lt get sober and repent. + Soon to woo thee I will come, + And when we shall married be + Thou wilt weep because of me!" + + "Though I knew what to reply, + Yet I dared not him deny, + No, I dared not him deny! + So into the park went I, + In the park my lad to meet, + There my dear one I did greet." + + "Maiden dear, I bow to thee! + Take this handkerchief from me. + In thy white hand take it, see! + Say I am beloved by thee. + I don't know at all, I fear, + What I am to give thee, dear! + To my dear I think I will + Of a shawl a present make-- + And five kisses for it take."' + +Lukashka and Nazarka broke into the ring and started walking about +among the girls. Lukashka joined in the singing, taking seconds in +his clear voice as he walked in the middle of the ring swinging +his arms. 'Well, come in, one of you!' he said. The other girls +pushed Maryanka, but she would not enter the ring. The sound of +shrill laughter, slaps, kisses, and whispers mingled with the +singing. + +As he went past Olenin, Lukashka gave a friendly nod. + +'Dmitri Andreich! Have you too come to have a look?' he said. + +'Yes,' answered Olenin dryly. + +Beletski stooped and whispered something into Ustenka's ear. She +had not time to reply till she came round again, when she said: + +'All right, we'll come.' + +'And Maryanka too?' + +Olenin stooped towards Maryanka. 'You'll come? Please do, if only +for a minute. I must speak to you.' + +'If the other girls come, I will.' + +'Will you answer my question?' said he, bending towards her. 'You +are in good spirits to-day.' + +She had already moved past him. He went after her. + +'Will you answer?' + +'Answer what?' + +'The question I asked you the other day,' said Olenin, stooping to +her ear. 'Will you marry me?' + +Maryanka thought for a moment. + +'I'll tell you,' said she, 'I'll tell you to-night.' + +And through the darkness her eyes gleamed brightly and kindly at +the young man. + +He still followed her. He enjoyed stooping closer to her. But +Lukashka, without ceasing to sing, suddenly seized her firmly by +the hand and pulled her from her place in the ring of girls into +the middle. Olenin had only time to say, "Come to Ustenka's," and +stepped back to his companion. + +The song came to an end. Lukashka wiped his lips, Maryanka did the +same, and they kissed. "No, no, kisses five!" said Lukashka. +Chatter, laughter, and running about, succeeded to the rhythmic +movements and sound. Lukashka, who seemed to have drunk a great +deal, began to distribute sweetmeats to the girls. + +"I offer them to everyone!" he said with proud, comically pathetic +self-admiration. "But anyone who goes after soldiers goes out of +the ring!" he suddenly added, with an angry glance at Olenin. + +The girls grabbed his sweetmeats from him, and, laughing, +struggled for them among themselves. Beletski and Olenin stepped +aside. + +Lukashka, as if ashamed of his generosity, took off his cap and +wiping his forehead with his sleeve came up to Maryanka and +Ustenka. + +"Answer me, my dear, dost thou hold me in contempt?" he said in +the words of the song they had just been singing, and turning to +Maryanka he angrily repeated the words: "Dost thou hold me in +contempt? When we shall married be thou wilt weep because of me!" +he added, embracing Ustenka and Maryanka both together. + +Ustenka tore herself away, and swinging her arm gave him such a +blow on the back that she hurt her hand. + +"Well, are you going to have another turn?" he asked. + +"The other girls may if they like," answered Ustenka, "but I am +going home and Maryanka was coming to our house too." + +With his arm still round her, Lukashka led Maryanka away from the +crowd to the darker comer of a house. + +"Don't go, Maryanka," he said, "let's have some fun for the last +time. Go home and I will come to you!" + +"What am I to do at home? Holidays are meant for merrymaking. I am +going to Ustenka's," replied Maryanka. + +'I'll marry you all the same, you know!' + +'All right,' said Maryanka, 'we shall see when the time comes.' + +'So you are going,' said Lukashka sternly, and, pressing her +close, he kissed her on the cheek. + +'There, leave off! Don't bother,' and Maryanka, wrenching herself +from his arms, moved away. + +'Ah my girl, it will turn out badly,' said Lukashka reproachfully +and stood still, shaking his head. 'Thou wilt weep because of +me...' and turning away from her he shouted to the other girls: + +'Now then! Play away!' + +What he had said seemed to have frightened and vexed Maryanka. She +stopped, 'What will turn out badly?' + +'Why, that!' + +'That what?' + +'Why, that you keep company with a soldier-lodger and no longer +care for me!' + +'I'll care just as long as I choose. You're not my father, nor my +mother. What do you want? I'll care for whom I like!' + +'Well, all right...' said Lukashka, 'but remember!' He moved +towards the shop. 'Girls!' he shouted, 'why have you stopped? Go +on dancing. Nazarka, fetch some more chikhir.' + +'Well, will they come?' asked Olenin, addressing Beletski. + +'They'll come directly,' replied Beletski. 'Come along, we must +prepare the ball.' + + + + +Chapter XXXIX + + +It was already late in the night when Olenin came out of +Beletski's hut following Maryanka and Ustenka. He saw in the dark +street before him the gleam of the girl's white kerchief. The +golden moon was descending towards the steppe. A silvery mist hung +over the village. All was still; there were no lights anywhere and +one heard only the receding footsteps of the young women. Olenin's +heart beat fast. The fresh moist atmosphere cooled his burning +face. He glanced at the sky and turned to look at the hut he had +just come out of: the candle was already out. Then he again peered +through the darkness at the girls' retreating shadows. The white +kerchief disappeared in the mist. He was afraid to remain alone, +he was so happy. He jumped down from the porch and ran after the +girls. + +'Bother you, someone may see...' said Ustenka. + +'Never mind!' + +Olenin ran up to Maryanka and embraced her. + +Maryanka did not resist. + +'Haven't you kissed enough yet?' said Ustenka. 'Marry and then +kiss, but now you'd better wait.' + +'Good-night, Maryanka. To-morrow I will come to see your father +and tell him. Don't you say anything.' + +'Why should I!' answered Maryanka. + +Both the girls started running. Olenin went on by himself thinking +over all that had happened. He had spent the whole evening alone +with her in a corner by the oven. Ustenka had not left the hut for +a single moment, but had romped about with the other girls and +with Beletski all the time. Olenin had talked in whispers to +Maryanka. + +'Will you marry me?' he had asked. + +'You'd deceive me and not have me,' she replied cheerfully and +calmly. + +'But do you love me? Tell me for God's sake!' + +'Why shouldn't I love you? You don't squint,' answered Maryanka, +laughing and with her hard hands squeezing his.... + +'What whi-ite, whi-i-ite, soft hands you've got--so like clotted +cream,' she said. + +'I am in earnest. Tell me, will you marry me?' + +'Why not, if father gives me to you?' + +'Well then remember, I shall go mad if you deceive me. To-morrow I +will tell your mother and father. I shall come and propose.' + +Maryanka suddenly burst out laughing. + +'What's the matter?' + +'It seems so funny!' + +'It's true! I will buy a vineyard and a house and will enroll +myself as a Cossack.' + +'Mind you don't go after other women then. I am severe about +that.' + +Olenin joyfully repeated all these words to himself. The memory of +them now gave him pain and now such joy that it took away his +breath. The pain was because she had remained as calm as usual +while talking to him. She did not seem at all agitated by these +new conditions. It was as if she did not trust him and did not +think of the future. It seemed to him that she only loved him for +the present moment, and that in her mind there was no future with +him. He was happy because her words sounded to him true, and she +had consented to be his. 'Yes,' thought he to himself, 'we shall +only understand one another when she is quite mine. For such love +there are no words. It needs life--the whole of life. To-morrow +everything will be cleared up. I cannot live like this any longer; +to-morrow I will tell everything to her father, to Beletski, and +to the whole village.' + +Lukashka, after two sleepless nights, had drunk so much at the +fete that for the first time in his life his feet would not carry +him, and he slept in Yamka's house. + + + + +Chapter XL + + +The next day Olenin awoke earlier than usual, and immediately +remembered what lay before him, and he joyfully recalled her +kisses, the pressure of her hard hands, and her words, 'What white +hands you have!' He jumped up and wished to go at once to his +hosts' hut to ask for their consent to his marriage with Maryanka. +The sun had not yet risen, but it seemed that there was an unusual +bustle in the street and side-street: people were moving about on +foot and on horseback, and talking. He threw on his Circassian +coat and hastened out into the porch. His hosts were not yet up. +Five Cossacks were riding past and talking loudly together. In +front rode Lukashka on his broad-backed Kabarda horse. + +The Cossacks were all speaking and shouting so that it was +impossible to make out exactly what they were saying. + +'Ride to the Upper Post,' shouted one. + +'Saddle and catch us up, be quick,' said another. + +'It's nearer through the other gate!' + +'What are you talking about?' cried Lukashka. 'We must go through +the middle gates, of course.' + +'So we must, it's nearer that way,' said one of the Cossacks who +was covered with dust and rode a perspiring horse. Lukashka's face +was red and swollen after the drinking of the previous night and +his cap was pushed to the back of his head. He was calling out +with authority as though he were an officer. + +'What is the matter? Where are you going?' asked Olenin, with +difficulty attracting the Cossacks' attention. + +'We are off to catch abreks. They're hiding among the sand-drifts. +We are just off, but there are not enough of us yet.' + +And the Cossacks continued to shout, more and more of them joining +as they rode down the street. It occurred to Olenin that it would +not look well for him to stay behind; besides he thought he could +soon come back. He dressed, loaded his gun with bullets, jumped +onto his horse which Vanyusha had saddled more or less well, and +overtook the Cossacks at the village gates. The Cossacks had +dismounted, and filling a wooden bowl with chikhir from a little +cask which they had brought with them, they passed the bowl round +to one another and drank to the success of their expedition. Among +them was a smartly dressed young cornet, who happened to be in the +village and who took command of the group of nine Cossacks who had +joined for the expedition. All these Cossacks were privates, and +although the cornet assumed the airs of a commanding officer, they +only obeyed Lukashka. Of Olenin they took no notice at all, and +when they had all mounted and started, and Olenin rode up to the +cornet and began asking him what was taking place, the cornet, who +was usually quite friendly, treated him with marked condescension. +It was with great difficulty that Olenin managed to find out from +him what was happening. Scouts who had been sent out to search for +abreks had come upon several hillsmen some six miles from the +village. These abreks had taken shelter in pits and had fired at +the scouts, declaring they would not surrender. A corporal who had +been scouting with two Cossacks had remained to watch the abreks, +and had sent one Cossack back to get help. + +The sun was just rising. Three miles beyond the village the steppe +spread out and nothing was visible except the dry, monotonous, +sandy, dismal plain covered with the footmarks of cattle, and here +and there with tufts of withered grass, with low reeds in the +flats, and rare, little-trodden footpaths, and the camps of the +nomad Nogay tribe just visible far away. The absence of shade and +the austere aspect of the place were striking. The sun always +rises and sets red in the steppe. When it is windy whole hills of +sand are carried by the wind from place to place. + +When it is calm, as it was that morning, the silence, +uninterrupted by any movement or sound, is peculiarly striking. +That morning in the steppe it was quiet and dull, though the sun +had already risen. It all seemed specially soft and desolate. The +air was hushed, the footfalls and the snorting of the horses were +the only sounds to be heard, and even they quickly died away. + +The men rode almost silently. A Cossack always carries his weapons +so that they neither jingle nor rattle. Jingling weapons are a +terrible disgrace to a Cossack. Two other Cossacks from the +village caught the party up and exchanged a few words. Lukashka's +horse either stumbled or caught its foot in some grass, and became +restive--which is a sign of bad luck among the Cossacks, and at +such a time was of special importance. The others exchanged +glances and turned away, trying not to notice what had happened. +Lukaskha pulled at the reins, frowned sternly, set his teeth, and +flourished his whip above his head. His good Kabarda horse, +prancing from one foot to another not knowing with which to start, +seemed to wish to fly upwards on wings. But Lukashka hit its well- +-fed sides with his whip once, then again, and a third time, and +the horse, showing its teeth and spreading out its tail, snorted +and reared and stepped on its hind legs a few paces away from the +others. + +'Ah, a good steed that!' said the cornet. + +That he said steed instead of HORSE indicated special praise. + +'A lion of a horse,' assented one of the others, an old Cossack. + +The Cossacks rode forward silently, now at a footpace, then at a +trot, and these changes were the only incidents that interrupted +for a moment the stillness and solemnity of their movements. + +Riding through the steppe for about six miles, they passed nothing +but one Nogay tent, placed on a cart and moving slowly along at a +distance of about a mile from them. A Nogay family was moving from +one part of the steppe to another. Afterwards they met two +tattered Nogay women with high cheekbones, who with baskets on +their backs were gathering dung left by the cattle that wandered +over the steppe. The cornet, who did not know their language well, +tried to question them, but they did not understand him and, +obviously frightened, looked at one another. + +Lukashka rode up to them both, stopped his horse, and promptly +uttered the usual greeting. The Nogay women were evidently +relieved, and began speaking to him quite freely as to a brother. + +'Ay--ay, kop abrek!' they said plaintively, pointing in the +direction in which the Cossacks were going. Olenin understood that +they were saying, 'Many abreks.' + +Never having seen an engagement of that kind, and having formed an +idea of them only from Daddy Eroshka's tales, Olenin wished not to +be left behind by the Cossacks, but wanted to see it all. He +admired the Cossacks, and was on the watch, looking and listening +and making his own observations. Though he had brought his sword +and a loaded gun with him, when he noticed that the Cossacks +avoided him he decided to take no part in the action, as in his +opinion his courage had already been sufficiently proved when he +was with his detachment, and also because he was very happy. + +Suddenly a shot was heard in the distance. + +The cornet became excited, and began giving orders to the Cossacks +as to how they should divide and from which side they should +approach. But the Cossacks did not appear to pay any attention to +these orders, listening only to what Lukashka said and looking to +him alone. Lukashka's face and figure were expressive of calm +solemnity. He put his horse to a trot with which the others were +unable to keep pace, and screwing up his eyes kept looking ahead. + +'There's a man on horseback,' he said, reining in his horse and +keeping in line with the others. + +Olenin looked intently, but could not see anything. The Cossacks +soon distinguished two riders and quietly rode straight towards +them. + +'Are those the ABREKS?' asked Olenin. + +The Cossacks did not answer his question, which appeared quite +meaningless to them. The ABREKS would have been fools to venture +across the river on horseback. + +'That's friend Rodka waving to us, I do believe,' said Lukashka, +pointing to the two mounted men who were now clearly visible. +'Look, he's coming to us.' + +A few minutes later it became plain that the two horsemen were the +Cossack scouts. The corporal rode up to Lukashka. + + + + +Chapter XLI + + +'Are they far?' was all Lukashka said. + +Just then they heard a sharp shot some thirty paces off. The +corporal smiled slightly. + +'Our Gurka is having shots at them,' he said, nodding in the +direction of the shot. + +Having gone a few paces farther they saw Gurka sitting behind a +sand-hillock and loading his gun. To while away the time he was +exchanging shots with the ABREKS, who were behind another sand- +heap. A bullet came whistling from their side. + +The cornet was pale and grew confused. Lukashka dismounted from +his horse, threw the reins to one of the other Cossacks, and went +up to Gurka. Olenin also dismounted and, bending down, followed +Lukashka. They had hardly reached Gurka when two bullets whistled +above them. + +Lukashka looked around laughing at Olenin and stooped a little. + +'Look out or they will kill you, Dmitri Andreich,' he said. 'You'd +better go away--you have no business here.' But Olenin wanted +absolutely to see the ABREKS. + +From behind the mound he saw caps and muskets some two hundred +paces off. Suddenly a little cloud of smoke appeared from thence, +and again a bullet whistled past. The ABREKS were hiding in a +marsh at the foot of the hill. Olenin was much impressed by the +place in which they sat. In reality it was very much like the rest +of the steppe, but because the ABREKS sat there it seemed to +detach itself from all the rest and to have become distinguished. +Indeed it appeared to Olenin that it was the very spot for ABREKS +to occupy. Lukashka went back to his horse and Olenin followed +him. + +'We must get a hay-cart,' said Lukashka, 'or they will be killing +some of us. There behind that mound is a Nogay cart with a load of +hay.' + +The cornet listened to him and the corporal agreed. The cart of +hay was fetched, and the Cossacks, hiding behind it, pushed it +forward. Olenin rode up a hillock from whence he could see +everything. The hay-cart moved on and the Cossacks crowded +together behind it. The Cossacks advanced, but the Chechens, of +whom there were nine, sat with their knees in a row and did not +fire. + +All was quiet. Suddenly from the Chechens arose the sound of a +mournful song, something like Daddy Eroshka's 'Ay day, dalalay.' +The Chechens knew that they could not escape, and to prevent +themselves from being tempted to take to flight they had strapped +themselves together, knee to knee, had got their guns ready, and +were singing their death-song. + +The Cossacks with their hay-cart drew closer and closer, and +Olenin expected the firing to begin at any moment, but the silence +was only broken by the abreks' mournful song. Suddenly the song +ceased; there was a sharp report, a bullet struck the front of the +cart, and Chechen curses and yells broke the silence and shot +followed on shot and one bullet after another struck the cart. The +Cossacks did not fire and were now only five paces distant. + +Another moment passed and the Cossacks with a whoop rushed out on +both sides from behind the cart--Lukashka in front of them. Olenin +heard only a few shots, then shouting and moans. He thought he saw +smoke and blood, and abandoning his horse and quite beside himself +he ran towards the Cossacks. Horror seemed to blind him. He could +not make out anything, but understood that all was over. Lukashka, +pale as death, was holding a wounded Chechen by the arms and +shouting, 'Don't kill him. I'll take him alive!' The Chechen was +the red-haired man who had fetched his brother's body away after +Lukashka had killed him. Lukashka was twisting his arms. Suddenly +the Chechen wrenched himself free and fired his pistol. Lukashka +fell, and blood began to flow from his stomach. He jumped up, but +fell again, swearing in Russian and in Tartar. More and more blood +appeared on his clothes and under him. Some Cossacks approached +him and began loosening his girdle. One of them, Nazarka, before +beginning to help, fumbled for some time, unable to put his sword +in its sheath: it would not go the right way. The blade of the +sword was blood-stained. + +The Chechens with their red hair and clipped moustaches lay dead +and hacked about. Only the one we know of, who had fired at +Lukashka, though wounded in many places was still alive. Like a +wounded hawk all covered with blood (blood was flowing from a +wound under his right eye), pale and gloomy, he looked about him +with wide--open excited eyes and clenched teeth as he crouched, +dagger in hand, still prepared to defend himself. The cornet went +up to him as if intending to pass by, and with a quick movement +shot him in the ear. The Chechen started up, but it was too late, +and he fell. + +The Cossacks, quite out of breath, dragged the bodies aside and +took the weapons from them. Each of the red-haired Chechens had +been a man, and each one had his own individual expression. +Lukashka was carried to the cart. He continued to swear in Russian +and in Tartar. + +'No fear, I'll strangle him with my hands. ANNA SENI!' he cried, +struggling. But he soon became quiet from weakness. + +Olenin rode home. In the evening he was told that Lukashka was at +death's door, but that a Tartar from beyond the river had +undertaken to cure him with herbs. + +The bodies were brought to the village office. The women and the +little boys hastened to look at them. + +It was growing dark when Olenin returned, and he could not collect +himself after what he had seen. But towards night memories of the +evening before came rushing to his mind. He looked out of the +window, Maryanka was passing to and fro from the house to the +cowshed, putting things straight. Her mother had gone to the +vineyard and her father to the office. Olenin could not wait till +she had quite finished her work, but went out to meet her. She was +in the hut standing with her back towards him. Olenin thought she +felt shy. + +'Maryanka,' said he, 'I say, Maryanka! May I come in?' + +She suddenly turned. There was a scarcely perceptible trace of +tears in her eyes and her face was beautiful in its sadness. She +looked at him in silent dignity. + +Olenin again said: + +'Maryanka, I have come--' + +'Leave me alone!' she said. Her face did not change but the tears +ran down her cheeks. + +'What are you crying for? What is it?' + +'What?' she repeated in a rough voice. 'Cossacks have been killed, +that's what for.' + +'Lukashka?' said Olenin. + +'Go away! What do you want?' + +'Maryanka!' said Olenin, approaching her. + +'You will never get anything from me!' + +'Maryanka, don't speak like that,' Olenin entreated. + +'Get away. I'm sick of you!' shouted the girl, stamping her foot, +and moved threateningly towards him. And her face expressed such +abhorrence, such contempt, and such anger that Olenin suddenly +understood that there was no hope for him, and that his first +impression of this woman's inaccessibility had been perfectly +correct. + +Olenin said nothing more, but ran out of the hut. + + + + +Chapter XLII + + +For two hours after returning home he lay on his bed motionless. +Then he went to his company commander and obtained leave to visit +the staff. Without taking leave of anyone, and sending Vanyusha to +settle his accounts with his landlord, he prepared to leave for +the fort where his regiment was stationed. Daddy Eroshka was the +only one to see him off. They had a drink, and then a second, and +then yet another. Again as on the night of his departure from +Moscow, a three-horsed conveyance stood waiting at the door. But +Olenin did not confer with himself as he had done then, and did +not say to himself that all he had thought and done here was 'not +it'. He did not promise himself a new life. He loved Maryanka more +than ever, and knew that he could never be loved by her. + +'Well, good-bye, my lad!' said Daddy Eroshka. 'When you go on an +expedition, be wise and listen to my words--the words of an old +man. When you are out on a raid or the like (you know I'm an old +wolf and have seen things), and when they begin firing, don't get +into a crowd where there are many men. When you fellows get +frightened you always try to get close together with a lot of +others. You think it is merrier to be with others, but that's +where it is worst of all! They always aim at a crowd. Now I used +to keep farther away from the others and went alone, and I've +never been wounded. Yet what things haven't I seen in my day?' + +'But you've got a bullet in your back,' remarked Vanyusha, who was +clearing up the room. + +'That was the Cossacks fooling about,' answered Eroshka. + +'Cossacks? How was that?' asked Olenin. + +'Oh, just so. We were drinking. Vanka Sitkin, one of the Cossacks, +got merry, and puff! he gave me one from his pistol just here.' + +'Yes, and did it hurt?' asked Olenin. 'Vanyusha, will you soon be +ready?' he added. + +'Ah, where's the hurry! Let me tell you. When he banged into me, +the bullet did not break the bone but remained here. And I say: +"You've killed me, brother. Eh! What have you done to me? I won't +let you off! You'll have to stand me a pailful!"' + +'Well, but did it hurt?' Olenin asked again, scarcely listening to +the tale. + +'Let me finish. He stood a pailful, and we drank it, but the blood +went on flowing. The whole room was drenched and covered with +blood. Grandad Burlak, he says, "The lad will give up the ghost. +Stand a bottle of the sweet sort, or we shall have you taken up!" +They bought more drink, and boozed and boozed--' + +'Yes, but did it hurt you much?' Olenin asked once more. + +'Hurt, indeed! Don't interrupt: I don't like it. Let me finish. We +boozed and boozed till morning, and I fell asleep on the top of +the oven, drunk. When I woke in the morning I could not unbend +myself anyhow--' + +'Was it very painful?' repeated Olenin, thinking that now he would +at last get an answer to his question. + +'Did I tell you it was painful? I did not say it was painful, but +I could not bend and could not walk.' + +'And then it healed up?' said Olenin, not even laughing, so heavy +was his heart. + +'It healed up, but the bullet is still there. Just feel it!' And +lifting his shirt he showed his powerful back, where just near the +bone a bullet could be felt and rolled about. + +'Feel how it rolls,' he said, evidently amusing himself with the +bullet as with a toy. 'There now, it has rolled to the back.' + +'And Lukashka, will he recover?' asked Olenin. + +'Heaven only knows! There's no doctor. They've gone for one.' + +'Where will they get one? From Groznoe?' asked Olenin. 'No, my +lad. Were I the Tsar I'd have hung all your Russian doctors long +ago. Cutting is all they know! There's our Cossack Baklashka, no +longer a real man now that they've cut off his leg! That shows +they're fools. What's Baklashka good for now? No, my lad, in the +mountains there are real doctors. There was my chum, Vorchik, he +was on an expedition and was wounded just here in the chest. Well, +your doctors gave him up, but one of theirs came from the +mountains and cured him! They understand herbs, my lad!' + +'Come, stop talking rubbish,' said Olenin. 'I'd better send a +doctor from head-quarters.' + +'Rubbish!' the old man said mockingly. 'Fool, fool! Rubbish. +You'll send a doctor!--If yours cured people, Cossacks and +Chechens would go to you for treatment, but as it is your officers +and colonels send to the mountains for doctors. Yours are all +humbugs, all humbugs.' + +Olenin did not answer. He agreed only too fully that all was +humbug in the world in which he had lived and to which he was now +returning. + +'How is Lukashka? You've been to see him?' he asked. + +'He just lies as if he were dead. He does not eat nor drink. Vodka +is the only thing his soul accepts. But as long as he drinks vodka +it's well. I'd be sorry to lose the lad. A fine lad--a brave, like +me. I too lay dying like that once. The old women were already +wailing. My head was burning. They had already laid me out under +the holy icons. So I lay there, and above me on the oven little +drummers, no bigger than this, beat the tattoo. I shout at them +and they drum all the harder.' (The old man laughed.) 'The women +brought our church elder. They were getting ready to bury me. They +said, "He defiled himself with worldly unbelievers; he made merry +with women; he ruined people; he did not fast, and he played the +balalayka. Confess," they said. So I began to confess. "I've +sinned!" I said. Whatever the priest said, I always answered "I've +sinned." He began to ask me about the balalayka. "Where is the +accursed thing," he says. "Show it me and smash it." But I say, +"I've not got it." I'd hidden it myself in a net in the outhouse. +I knew they could not find it. So they left me. Yet after all I +recovered. When I went for my BALALAYKA--What was I saying?' he +continued. 'Listen to me, and keep farther away from the other men +or you'll get killed foolishly. I feel for you, truly: you are a +drinker--I love you! And fellows like you like riding up the +mounds. There was one who lived here who had come from Russia, he +always would ride up the mounds (he called the mounds so funnily, +"hillocks"). Whenever he saw a mound, off he'd gallop. Once he +galloped off that way and rode to the top quite pleased, but a +Chechen fired at him and killed him! Ah, how well they shoot from +their gun-rests, those Chechens! Some of them shoot even better +than I do. I don't like it when a fellow gets killed so foolishly! +Sometimes I used to look at your soldiers and wonder at them. +There's foolishness for you! They go, the poor fellows, all in a +clump, and even sew red collars to their coats! How can they help +being hit! One gets killed, they drag him away and another takes +his place! What foolishness!' the old man repeated, shaking his +head. 'Why not scatter, and go one by one? So you just go like +that and they won't notice you. That's what you must do.' + +'Well, thank you! Good-bye, Daddy. God willing we may meet again,' +said Olenin, getting up and moving towards the passage. + +The old man, who was sitting on the floor, did not rise. + +'Is that the way one says "Good-bye"? Fool, fool!' he began. 'Oh +dear, what has come to people? We've kept company, kept company +for well-nigh a year, and now "Good-bye!" and off he goes! Why, I +love you, and how I pity you! You are so forlorn, always alone, +always alone. You're somehow so unsociable. At times I can't sleep +for thinking about you. I am so sorry for you. As the song has it: + +"It is very hard, dear brother, In a foreign land to live." + +So it is with you.' + +'Well, good-bye,' said Olenin again. + +The old man rose and held out his hand. Olenin pressed it and +turned to go. + +'Give us your mug, your mug!' + +And the old man took Olenin by the head with both hands and kissed +him three times with wet moustaches and lips, and began to cry. + +'I love you, good-bye!' + +Olenin got into the cart. + +'Well, is that how you're going? You might give me something for a +remembrance. Give me a gun! What do you want two for?' said the +old man, sobbing quite sincerely. + +Olenin got out a musket and gave it to him. + +'What a lot you've given the old fellow,' murmured Vanyusha, +'he'll never have enough! A regular old beggar. They are all such +irregular people,' he remarked, as he wrapped himself in his +overcoat and took his seat on the box. + +'Hold your tongue, swine!' exclaimed the old man, laughing. 'What +a stingy fellow!' + +Maryanka came out of the cowshed, glanced indifferently at the +cart, bowed and went towards the hut. + +'LA FILLE!' said Vanyusha, with a wink, and burst out into a silly +laugh. + +'Drive on!' shouted Olenin, angrily. + +'Good-bye, my lad! Good-bye. I won't forget you!' shouted Eroshka. + +Olenin turned round. Daddy Eroshka was talking to Maryanka, +evidently about his own affairs, and neither the old man nor the +girl looked at Olenin. + + + +The End + + + + + + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK, THE COSSACKS *** + +This file should be named cossk10.txt or cossk10.zip +Corrected EDITIONS of our eBooks get a new NUMBER, cossk11.txt +VERSIONS based on separate sources get new LETTER, cossk10a.txt + +Project Gutenberg eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the US +unless a copyright notice is included. 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