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diff --git a/4761-h/4761-h.htm b/4761-h/4761-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..2b0044e --- /dev/null +++ b/4761-h/4761-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,10265 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" +"http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> +<head> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=utf-8" /> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Style-Type" content="text/css" /> +<title>The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Cossacks, by Leo Tolstoy</title> + +<style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve"> + +body { margin-left: 20%; + margin-right: 20%; + text-align: justify; } + +h1, h2, h3, h4, h5 {text-align: center; font-style: normal; font-weight: +normal; line-height: 1.5; margin-top: .5em; margin-bottom: .5em;} + +h1 {font-size: 300%; + margin-top: 0.6em; + margin-bottom: 0.6em; + letter-spacing: 0.12em; + word-spacing: 0.2em; + text-indent: 0em;} +h2 {font-size: 150%; margin-top: 2em; margin-bottom: 1em;} +h3 {font-size: 130%; margin-top: 1em;} +h4 {font-size: 120%;} +h5 {font-size: 110%;} + +.no-break {page-break-before: avoid;} /* for epubs */ + +div.chapter {page-break-before: always; margin-top: 4em;} + +hr {width: 80%; margin-top: 2em; margin-bottom: 2em;} + +p {text-indent: 1em; + margin-top: 0.25em; + margin-bottom: 0.25em; } + +.p2 {margin-top: 2em;} + +p.poem {text-indent: 0%; + margin-left: 10%; + font-size: 90%; + margin-top: 1em; + margin-bottom: 1em; } + +p.noindent {text-indent: 0% } + +a:link {color:blue; text-decoration:none} +a:visited {color:blue; text-decoration:none} +a:hover {color:red} + + +</style> +</head> +<body> + +<div style='text-align:center; font-size:1.2em; font-weight:bold'>The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Cossacks, by Leo Tolstoy</div> +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +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 <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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