ANUARY. 1888 .

TH E LE ISU R E H OU R SER IESgA collect ion of work. who-e character In lig h t an d en tertain in g , thoug h n ot tri 3 ,

While they are handy for the pocket or the sa tchel , they are n ot , either I n con ten'

g.

appearan ce , unworthy of a place on the library shelvel .

ABOUT , B .

THE MAN W ITH TH I Exo

xEN EAR .

THE NOTARY'

S NOSE

A LCESTIS . A Hut ton !

Novel .

A LEX ANDER , M r l .

THE W OO ING O ’

T

W H ICH SH ALL IT BE !R A I P I I W IL1 0N

'

S W E IR D .

HER DEA R ES I‘

FOE

H ER I I AGE OF LANCDAL I

M A ID ,W IPE, OR W IDOW I

1 H E FRERES .

LOOK BEFORE YOU LEAP.

TH E A DM IRA L’S W ARD .

TH E EXECUTOR .

A SECONDAT BAYBEA

'

I ON 5 BARGA INRY “OMAN'

S W IT

I URb lNG“

l l-H: FL I'

I ERS .

MONA'

s C I IO ILE

A U ER BA CH ,B .

1 I I E V IL I A ON ‘

I HE R H INI

2 vo ls. fl' l fh Por t r a i t .

BLA CK FOR E51

TH E LI'

I'

I‘

I E HAR EFOO I

LOSEPH IN 1 I I E SNOW

DELW EISS

GERMAN TA l PS

ON 1 H P H EIGH rs .

THE CONV ICTSLOR I . EY AND R EINHARD

ALOYs .

POE I AN! ) MERCH ANT .

LANDO I INW A LDFR I BD .

BR IGl'

I'

l A .

SP INOZA .MAS

‘I i n HIBLANI )BEERBOHM ,

J .

W ANDER INGS IN PA '

! AGONIABEER B, HENRY A .

e vo ls

A CBN'

I UR Y OF AMER ICANL lTER ATUR B .

BESANT , W a l t er .

1 B ! R EVOLT OF MAN.

BJORN I ON , B .

TH E F ISHER -MA IDEN .

BUTT , B . IM Iss MOLLYEUGEH IEDHI JCI A .

GERALD INE HAVVTHORNI .

CADELL . M r s . H . M .

I DA CR AVENCA LV ERLEY . C . S .

FLY- LEAVES . Ver ses .

CONW AY , HUGH .

CALLED BACKDA RK DAYS .

BOUND TOGETH FRCAR R IbTON

'

S (A FT. I l lus tr .

A PAH I LY AFFA I RSL INGS AND A R Rows.

A CA R D INAL SINL IV ING OR DEAD .

CONW AY , M . D .

P INE AND PA LM .

CORKRA N , A L ICE .

BESS IE LANG .

COV ENTRY . JOHN .

AFTER H IS KIND .

CRA V EN , M mo . A .

FLEURAHGE.

CR OFFU T , W . A .

A M IDSUHHER LARK.

DEMOCRA CY . An

Ammcau Novel .

DICKEN S , GR A B.

THE M UDFOG PAPERS, etc .

swo rn na;DREW , Ca t h a r i n a .

TH E I OTAN IsTE OF ST

JAGOBI‘

&

DR CZ . GUSTA V E .

BAEOLA IN .

A ROUND A SPR ING .

EN A U LT . LOUIS .

CHR IS ] [NFL

ERSKINE ,

W YNCOTE.

M r T

:FEUILLET , o .

ROMANCE OF A POOR YOUNGMAN .

POGA ZZA R O, A .

DAN ILLE COR I IS

PR A NOI LLON .

UNDER bL lBV E - BAN

FREY'I‘A G , G

l HGO

INGRAEAN.

GAU

l o . cloth . $ 1 per 7 3

LOLA .GR OHMAN , W . A .

GADD INGS W ITH A PR '

.

GR IFF ITHS , At t ila1'

lTIVE PEOPLE i

HEINE , H E I NR I OBSC INTILLATIONSHBNKEL , PR .

éTHE M ISTR ESS OF IBICHSTEIN.

HOLL ISTER , G . HKINLEY I IOLLOW .

B OFFO S , M . A . M .

A STORY OF CA RNIVA L.HUNT . M r l . A . W .

THE I EA DEN CASKET

LA l -‘PAN . MAY .

THE HON. M ISS FERRA R D .

CHR ISTY CAREw .

LAW L E S S , H C N .

EMILY .

A CH l‘

LbFA HOUSEHOLD I‘

R

A M I LL IONA I R IZ'

b COU H I ‘J

M AJOR LAW R E\CE, b. I . s

L INDAU . P .

KLAUS HEW ER'

S W IFE.

LUCY . HENRY W .

G IDBON FLEYCE.

M A CPA R LA NEJL RCH ILDR EN OF TH E EA R TH

FOTHER GILL , JESS I B .

THE P IRS'

I V IOL INPROBATION .

THE W EI LFIELDSONE OF THR h E.

KITH AND KINPER I L .

HBALEY

BORDERLAND

HA R DY . TH OM A SUNDER THE G REENW OTR EE.

A PA IR OF BLUE EYES.

DES PERATE R EMED IESFA R FROM THE MADD I ICROW D . 11114:

HAND OF E1 HELEER ’

I A .

R ETURN OF'

I HE NATIVETHE TR UNPET-MAJOR .

A LAOD ICEAN . I l lus tr a te.

TW O ON A TOWER

THE M AYOR OF CASTEI

ER IDCE

J

JENK I N . M r s . 0W HO BRBAKS+ PAYS.

SKIRN ISH ING

A PSYCH E o r TO -DAY .

MAD AHE DE BEAUPRE.

UPI’

I ER'

s DAUGHTERS.

n H IN AN ACE.

JOH NGON . R O I I I t-o r

PLAY - DAY POEMS.

LE ISU R E - H OU R SER IES .

MART I N . B . G .

WHOM GOD HATH lo INED .

MAXW ELL , CECIL .

A 51 ORYOF THREE SISTERS.

M ISS BA Y LE’

SROMANCE .

M OLEBW ORTH , M r a

HATH ER COU RT.

MOORE . TH OM A S .

THE EPICURFAN.

NOR R I S . W . E .

MATR IMONY .

HEAPS OF MONEY .

No NEW TH ING.

MA]0K AND M INOR .

OL I PHA NT , M rs .

W H ITHLAD IES

PALGR A V E .W . G .

HERMANN A CHA .

PA R K, LOUISA .

HERO CARTHEw .

ROB IN.

PL AY S FOR PR I

V ATE ACT INGPOYNTER ,

E . P .

MY L ITTLE LADY .

ER g ‘IA .0

AMONG TH F. "I ! I SNI ADAMH DE FR ESNEL .

RICHA RDSON . S .

(‘ LA R ISSA HA R LOW E, (Cmsin ned. )

R I CHTER . J . P . P .

FLOW ER .FR l ' IT.AND THORN

P IPX ES 2 vo ls .

CAMPANER THAL . etc.

T ITAN. 2 vo ls.

H FSP I R I S 2 vo ls.

TH F l N\ IS I HI E LODGE.

(C o n t i n u e d . )

R OBERTS . M i n a .

NOBLESSE OBLIOE.

ON THE EDGE OF STORu

IN THE OLDEN T I R E.

SCHMID , B

THE H AEER H EISTER

SERGEA NT , ADEL .

BEYOND R ECALL .

NO SA INT.

ROY 'S REPENTANCE.

SH AKESPEA R E . W .

COMPLETE W ORKS. 1 vo ls

SIME , W M .

THE RED ROU I'

E.

SL IP i n t h e F ENS . A .

SM ITH . H . a n d J .

R EJECTED ADDR ESSES .

SPAR HAW K . P . O .

A LAZY MAN'

S W ORK.

SP I ELHA GEN , F .

W HATTHE SWA LLOW SANc .

SPOFFORD ,H . P .

THE AMBER GODS.

AZAR I AN

STEV EN SON . B . L ,

cNEw AR AHl AN NIc u-

I g ,

THE DYNAMITER .

STURGIS . JUL IA N .

MY FR IENDS AND I .

TA Y L OR ,U . A .

THE C ITY Ol SAR RAS.

TH A CKER A YNV . MEAR LY AND LATE PA PERS

TYTL ER ,O . C . P .

M ISTR ESS IU D ITH .

JONATH AN .

TU R G EN I EPF . I

FA TH ER S A ND SONS

SMOKE.

L IZA .

"N TH E EV E .

D IM ITR I R OD D INE.

SPR ING P I OO DS ; LEARV I RG IN SO I I

ANNA LS or A SPORTSM AN

V ER B D E BOC I E'I‘

V I LL AR I . L INDA .

KN CH ANGE UNCHANGED .

W A LFOR D . L . 8

MR . SH ITH .

Cous INs .

PA U L INE.

TROUBLESONEBAUCH' I ER

D ICK NETH EREY .

TH F BA I w’S GR ANDMOTHPH I S TORY OF A W EEK. ! an

W H A RTON , THOS .

HANN I I IA L OF NEW YORK

W IN GF IELD . L .

’

1 H I : LOV ELY W ANG .

W IN TH ROP . TH E

CEC IL D R E-3 11.114q 10 . For ” :

CANOE: AND SADDLE.

JOH N BR ENT.

EDW IN BR OTHFRTOFT.

L I FE IN TH E OPFN A I R .

W YL D E , Ka t h a r l n

A D R EA MER .

A N I LL - R EGULATED M INDYEST ERDAY .

THE LEISURE- HOUR SHAKESPEARE.

Thetext. of DYCE,with his g lossary , also with a. l ife,

an d an aceon

of each play by A.R . MACFARLANE. 7 v o ls . 16m0.

MACFARLANE’S (ANNE ROBERTSON)

CHILDREN OF THE EA RTH.

i llmo . Leisure Hour Series , Leisure Momen t Series , 50cen t

A n ovel by a. n ew thoug h thoroug hly train ed writer ,who is alreau

favorably kn own as 9, writer of short, stories in Harper’s l l

’

ee

an delsewhere. an d literary crit icisms for TheNa tion . The storyon e of every - day people swayedby Ordin ary mot iv es , but.presenwith a clearness and power sure to ev oke the sympathy .

scen es are on the W ild Nova, Scot ia coast an d in New York some

A V irg in ian Novel of 1840.By M . S.

TIEBNAN.

S UZETTE.

‘

1613 10,

BY THE SAME AUTHOR.

FATHERS AND SONS.

SMOKE.

LIZA .

ON THE EVE.

DIMITRI ROUDINE.

SPRING FLOODS; LEAR.

V I RGIN SOI L.

ANNALS OF A SPORTSMAN.

LEI SURE HOUR SERIES —1Vo. 164.

ANNALSOFA SPORTSMAN

I V A N TU R GEN I EFF

Translated from the Authorized French Edition

FRANKLIN PIERCE ABBOTT

NEW YORK

HENRY HOLT AND COMPANY

1885

Commen t , 1885,

HENRY HOLT CO.

CONTENTS.

INTRODUCTORY,CHAPTER

I .

I I .

I I I .

IV .

V .

V I .

V I I .

V I I I .

IX.

X .

XI .

XI I .

XI I I .XIV .

XV .

XV I .

XV I I .

XV I I I .

XIX.

XX .

XXI .

XXI I .

THE BURGOMASTER ,

JERHOLAI AND THE MILLER’

SWIFE,

BI ROOK,

MALINOVA ,

DEATH ,

LGOVE,

THE OFFICE,KARATAIEF,LEBEDIANA ,

TCHERTAPKANOF AND NEDopovs NE,

THE PRAIRIE,

THETwo PROPRIETORS,KOR AND KALINITCH ,

THE SINGERS

THE HAH LET or THE DI STRICT or TCH IGRI ,THE RENDEzvovs,TATIANA BORISSOVNA AND HER NEPHEW ,

THE DI STRICT DOCTOR ,

KACIANE,MY NEIGHBOR RADISLOF,THEODNODVORETZ,THE FOREST AND THE STEPPE,

INTRODUCTORY.

BEFOREcallin g attention in a few words to the merits ofthe pictures of man n ers which make up this volume , I

will ask the reader’s permission to explain the motives thatinduced me to tran slate them .

At the time the war in the Eas t was at its height , M .

Charriere brought out a book en titled M émozfls d’

un

Sezjg n eur russe ; he in tended it as a tran slat ion of the Re’a’

ts

d’

un Cfiasseur , a work by M. Turg én iefi that had hada deserved success in Russia . The n ewspapers spoke inpraise of the tran slation , and the M e

’moz’

res d’

zm Sezg neurrusse had a speedy Circulation . But there was a furthertrial to be undergone : the Russian readers had yet to pronounce their verdict . When peace had re- establ ished commercial relation s , this book found its way in to Russia , whereit was not very well received . The Russians found that instead of translating the Russian work , M . Charriere hadiven simply an adaptat ion— and an adaptation much tooree . The author h imself confirmed this verdict : in apaper that appeared at St . Petersburg he protested again stthe travesty under which M . Charriere had presented h iswork to the French public . This sensitiveness is verynatural . A portrayer of manners who has never producedanything but serious works , and works long thought over,does n ot l ike to have attributed to him compositions atonce in correct and carelessly written . The French journ als ,that so g enerously g

ave their approbation to M . Charriere’

s

work , dld n ot thin fit to reproduce M. Turg én iefi’

s protestation . Lest it may be inferred from this silence thatthe protest would be out of place in their columns , Iwill give it here in its entirety :

There has just fallen into my hands a French transla

t ion of o ne of my works , published two years ag o at Mos

cow. This translation , entitled , I know not why , M émoz’

res

v i INTRODUCTOR Y.

d’

un Sezjgrneur russe, has been the occasion of several a rticles in different foreign journ als . You will doubtless eas ilyunderstand that I do n ot thin k it proper to enter in to adiscussion with my critics— in gen eral much too in dulgenttowards me ; but what I have at heart is to protest again stthe translation upon which they have formed their judgment .This pretended translation is a veritable l iterary myst ifi

Cat ion . I do not speak of the mistranslation , the errors inwhich it aboun ds . They are un avoidable in a tran slationfrom the Russian . But , in deed , on e can have no idea of theChanges , the in terpolation s , the add ition s , to be met with on

every page . On e would not recognize it . I affi rm that inall the Me

'moz'

res d’

un Sezjg n eur russe there are n ot fourconsecutive lines faithfully tran slated . M . Charriere hasabove all taken care to adorn my st le, which must seem tohim much too poor and shabby . f I desire some one tosay ‘

ot j e here is the way in which this s implephrase is ren dered : ‘

j e m’

enfuz’

s d’

un efue’

te ef arée,le

'

e comme sz’

j’

eusse eu dmes trousses toute une leg ion de con

leuvres commandéepar des sorez'

eres .

’

A hare pursued bya do g becomes , un der the playful pen of my tran slator ,un eeureuz

’

lquz'

mon te sur un pz’

n,Styplace debout et se g rat te

A fallen tree is tran sformed in to un g éan t elze'oelu

quz'

s’

etaz’

t rz’

des assauts sefoulaz’

res de filusz‘

eurs mz’

llz’

ers

z’

s znelz’

n e solen nellemen t et san s luite v ers la

n ourrz‘

ee, commepour l’

emorasser en expzran tsous la morsure d’

un fer fran c/tan ! emmanc/ze'

par l’

lzommed

’

un frag men t de g ue l’

arbre ovaz’

t peut - etrefourn z’

luf

meme.

’

An old lady ‘

passe o'

u elzoeolat ou safran , joq an

cafean 14 27 , tan a’z'

squedesbouquets a'epoz

'

lj aun e etfrzls‘

e'

fug i

ten t sur son fron t et g ue ses y eux elzg n oten t awe nu mou'oe

men t ousse’

rapide g ue lafleelze coureuse de la pendule g uz’

oat

soz’

xan te foz'

s d [a mz’

nute,’ etc etc etc. My aston ish

ment may be easily im ined. But here is someth ingstill stranger : in Chapter V I I . , at page 280 , M . Charriereintroduces a n ewpersonage , whom he complacently describesat len gth— a kin d of pedler , a merchant of Chemicalmatches . What shall I say of this ? Well ! there is not aword of all that in my book , for the very good reason thatsdeh a person does n ot exist in Russia. What is morecurious is that in speaking of this very chapter in his pre

Charriere warns the reader that les pre'

fiarahfs del’

auteur pew/en ! parafire un peu long s d n otre impatience

https://www.forgottenbooks.com/join

V l l l 11VTRODUCTORY.

knowledge of Russian , as the n umerous mistranslations Show ,

but he has the presumption to embellish his author. That isun pardonable . The in jury M . Charriere has done is real . Iadmit ; yet there are some extenuating circumstances inhis favor.First . the Russian language , and above all the popularid iom that M . Turg én iefi puts into the mouths of his person ag es , presen ts to a foreign er d ifficulties almost in surmoun table ; one might ho ld] affirm that n ot on e of theFren ch literary men who be ieve that they kn ow the Russian lan guage un derstan d it sufficien tly to tran slate a single

page of these tales . Perhaps , though they are much lessearned than M . Charriere , most of them could n ot rendera l in e of Russian without recourse to a German version oftheir author. The changes that M . Charriere has vo luntarily made in the Russian text should l ikewise be judgedwith less severity. More than ever are exag gerat ion and

bad taste in vogue to - day in l iterature it has reached sucha poin t that a work exclusively dest in ed to please the bestmin ds would find an editor on ly with great difficulty . Suchbeing the case , M . Charriere must disarm his judges ; n oon e has con tributed as much as he to popularize the Russian author. Finally , the awkward retouches that he hasput to the delicate sketches of M . Turg én iefi have n ot en

t irely d isfigured them . You will find in the Memoz'

res d’

un

Sezg neur russe most of the fin e and touchin features thatmake the origin al work so valuable ; M . C arriere couldhave suppressed them, and he has n o t don e so it is a justicethat we must n ot forget to ren der him .

The reader must un derstan d n ow why I decided to tran slate the Re'ce

'

ls d’

un Cnasseur ; it would be perfectly uselessto dwell on that poin t . However , I thin k I ought to saythat , kn owing the difficulties of a work of th is kin d , I mightn ot have decided to un dertake it if the author himself hadn ot encouraged me to do so . Need I add that instead ofadopting M . Charriére

’

s somewhat too convenien t method , Ihave submitted in every way to the duties imposed by themodest oflice of tran slator. The reader may be assuredthat he will not find anyt hing in these pages that does n otbelong to the author. If I have added anything whatsoeverofmy own , they are mistakes that have escaped my atten t ion .

Fin ally , as there might be throughout the world minds inclined to bring ag ain st me the accusation that M . Charrierehas voluntarily drawn upon himself, I begged the author to

INTRODUCTOR I". 1x

revise my work c arefully , and he very obl ig ingly compl iedwith my r uest ; he even con sen ted to restore some passag es that e thought it would be pruden t to suppress inthe origin al , and which on accoun t of a peculiar stamp oftruth , add still more to the efiect of the whole work .

The thought that in spired this composit ion is worthy ofpraise . The Reez

‘

ts d’

un C/zasseur are dest in ed chiefly to depict to us the in terest in g populat ion which , to the shame ofour cen tury , is in Russ ia st ill groan ing un der the odiousyoke of serfdom. Little coun try lordlings in deed figure inthe stories ; but they are placed in the backgroun d , and allin terest is cen tred on the men who l ive un der them.

Every on e will doubtless applaud the courage of the writer,who , un der the suspicious régime then in all its vigor inRussia , did n ot fear to con secrate his pen to such an en terprise . Before him n o on e had dared to attempt it ; theworld in the midst of which he introduces us was a regionun kn own to Russian literature ,Though the Reez

’

ts d’

un C/zasseur might be con sidered asan eloquent plea in favor o f the freeing of the serfs , theauthor has in n o way sought to give a favorable idea of theRussian peasan t. Let us be careful n ot to thin k it he hasnot con cealed the faults o f his model . The portraits of

which this volume is composed are perfect l true to l ife , andn on e of the n umerous imitators that M .

’Furg én iefi has attheh presen t time in Russia can in this respect be comparedto im.

If the Re’ez’

ts d’

un Clzasseur inspire the attentive readerwith profoun d detestation of the rights which the Russianseign eurs exercise , M . Turg én iefi is not to be blamed ; hehas related con scien tiously scen es and tra its of popular manners that he has picked up in his wanderin gs , W ith his non his shoulder , through the differen t provin ces of the mpire . In a word , there is n othing roman tic in these pages :they are serious and impartial studies , that depict to us thehabits and character of the people . In studying them , thereader comes to kn ow the Russ ian peasan t as perfectly as ifhe had passed his life in the coun try.

But while imposing on himself the rule of constan tlykeeping to the truth , the author has n on e the less arrangedwith art the remarks and recollection s that he has collectedin this volume. Psycholog ical analysis n ot being h is pecul iar talent (and, as far as I am con cern ed , I will n o t com

plain of this) , the numerous observation s with which the

x INTRODUCTOR Y.

Ree- its d’

un C/uzsseur are filled bear prin cipally upon thesocial state , the man ners , and the appearance of the Russianpeasant . The author has rarely revealed to us the recessesof the con scien ce . I t is in describing the habits and actionsof h is personages that be gen erally gives us the boun ds ofthe feelings and desires that an imate them. This methodassuredly is n ot new— above all in Russia : it has existedthere sin ce Gogol , and is spread through their l iterature ;but I truly believe that in this departmen t M . Turg én ieffhas n o rival , even among us . Nothing equals the eloquen ceof his silen ce : a look , a sigh , the sl ightest gesture, says moreun der his pen than any an alysis . We all know that the ordina?danger of writers who walk in this path is monoton y

an vulgarity. M . Turg én iefi has known how to avoidthis , and that too without much effort ; he has been keptfrom it by the nature of his subject , the Russian still bein gessent ially poetic , and probably also from the happy disposit ion of his min d , which likes above all things distin ctionwithout affectation . But where he especially excels is inthe picturesque description of the coun try ; he kn ows howto give with marvellous exactitude the most imperceptiblemovemen ts , and even the fleet ing traits that un expectedlycharacterize the mobile and expressive physiogn omy ofn ature . Nothin g is beyon d him: he depicts to us , with a

precision really surprising , the rustl in g of the forest , the distan t murmur of a cascade , the color and Chan g ing form ofthe clouds , the pla of a sun beam that sudden ly l ights upthe plain ; and , asN

l

ature is always attractive , all these details ,so far fromwearying the reader, have an in fin ite charm . A

great deal has been written of late again st the l iterary coursethat the author has followed in this work . A fter readingthe Rece

‘

ls d’

un C/zasseur , it will be apparent this coursecould be fatal only to mediocrity.

As to passing in review the differen t stories of this colleetion , I do n ot thin k that n ecessary ; the reader can very well ,without my help , distinguish those most worthy of his attention . Yet , to persons who would simply like to glan cethrough the volume , it is well to indicate the tales that bestcharacterize the Russian peasan t . The sad and humil iat ingsituation in which he is foun d 18 admirably described in threetales , Tfte Burg omaster , n e, and The Two Propr ietors .

The first deserves especial n ot ice : in it the author shows thepeasan ts living under a double Oppression ; they are seen i nthe power of a hypocrit ical and brutal steward , —ofa type so

11VTRODUC'

TOR Y. X1

common in Russia ,— and of one of those proprietors who ,

un der the formof a man of the world , hides the unfeelingnessan d calculatin g egotism of the most crafty schemer. Doubtless there exists a small n umber of lords who in n o way re

semble this odious and ridiculous personage , and the authorfa ithfully describes several of them in these tales ; but theseare on ly nappy acciden ts of power , as the phrase goes . It issurprismg to learn , in reading the two other stud ies , to whata degree are pushed in Russia , on the on e han d the tyrannyof the seigneurs , and on the other the basen ess that servitudeimposes upon those near them. But it must no t be in ferredthat all Russian peasan ts are in this state of degradation :they spring up at the slightest breath of l iberty , l ike thewithered grass struck by a sun beam. Take themen whomthe author has shown us in the story entitled Kor and Kalz

‘

n z’

telz they are n ot certainly behind in in tell igen ce and dign ity the peasan ts of the most en l ighten ed coun tries , andsurpass them in many other respects . Feel ings that attachus to home andmost certain ly keep at a distan ce the restlessness and desires , the ordinary causes of revolution , st i ll prevai l gen erally un der the humble roof of the Russian peasant ;to be convin ced of this it is only n ecessary to follow attent ively the discourse of Kaez

’

ane, and to hear from the mouthof a poor serf words that denote a powerful in spirat ion in astyle that is somewhat bibl ical . Theman who speaks in thisway is n ot an exception the thoughts that he expresses arecommon to almost all Russian sectaries , whose number isquite con siderable . But to the rel igious feelin g that susta ins and guides them in its d ifficult course the Russianpeasan t join s a pleasing and poetical turn of mind ; theCharmin pag es en titled me Praz

’

rz'

e seem to have for theirprincipa object the bringing forward of this natural ten den cy.

The author has shown us in detail a part of the superstitiousideas which in Russia st il l stock the peasan t’s imagin ation .

It is in this story that the descriptive talent of which we havespoken above is especially surprising ; M . Turg én iefi leadsus about for a long time in the middle of one of those immen se plain s that are in the cen tre of Russia , and we followhimwithout feel ing the slightest fatigue . Finally , no on e isignoran t of the fact that the Russian peasan t is distinguishedby a true passion for music. This last trait of character hasfurnished the author with on e of his best stud ies ; it is entitledme Sing ers, and , as its title in dicates , we are presentat a rustic concert that is full of in terest .

I NTRODUCTOR Y.

A fter glancing through the stories that I have just n oticed,

the reader doubtless can n ot help recogn iz ing M . Turgen iefi

’

s talent ; but he would have a very in complete idea of theRussian people , for in all these studies the author devoteshimself on ly to present his subject in the quarters mostlikely to awaken our sympathy . The Russian peasan t offersothers that cool off this feel ing. There are often in villagesmen whom Providence seems to hold in reserve to punishsome day the obst inate partisan of serfdom ; such are , amongothers , two peasan ts wi th whom we become acquain ted atthe begin ing of the book in the stories entitled Be

'

ronk and

7ermolaz and tlzeM iller’

s s e. In the first the dark merciless man whom the author has described is rapidly sketched ,but the fan tastic person age who figures in the second isstudied with a great deal of care . Among the tra its that dist in g uish the latter there is one that un fortunately is gen eralamong the Russian people— that of scorn , a con tempt forwomen that ren ders their lot the sadder. That should n o t

surprise us ; on t he con trary , we should be surprised that 0ppression andmisery have n ot commun icated to the Russianpeasan t a great wan t of sociab il ity ; he doubtless owes it tothe beliefs that Christian ity has developed in his uncult ivated min d .

But I must st0p,for it would be n ecessary to Cite nearly

all the stories o f this collect ion there is not on e that is n otat once in structive and in teresting. We are indebted to theauthor for some other stories and several plays that have beenreceived with favor ; but the Re

’

ez’

ts d’

un Clzasseur are stillthe most beautiful jewel of his literary crown , and up to thepresen t t ime, I repeat , n o writer has depicted the Russianpeasant with more talent and truth .

H. DELAVEAU .

THEANNALSOF A SPORTSMAN.

CHAPTER I .

THE BURGOMASTER .

’

A BOUT fifty versies’ from my country place l ives a younproprietor of my acquain tance , A rcadi Pav litch P

n otchkin e. There is a great deal of game on his land , hishouse is built after the plan s of a French architect , and hisservants are dressed in the Engl ish fashion ; he has an excellen t table , and receives his guests courteously. Yet with allthis o ne has no great desire to go to his house . He is a

hard , shrewd man ; he received , as is customary , an excellen t education , and served in the army ; he has seen something of society , and he n ow gives his attention with suc

cess to the man agement of his estates . Arcadi Pavlitch is ,as he himself says , severe but just ; he takes a great interestin the welfare of his serfs , and pun ishes them on ly for theirgood .

“They need to be treated like children , he says inspeaking of th is “ i n oran ce, mon ener , i lfaut pren a

’

re

en con sideration . hen he finds himself put to this sadn ecessity , n o Sign of anger betrays what he feels ; he doesn ot l ike to raise his voice , but jerks h is arm out sharply , andconfines himself to saying with perfect calmn ess , “ I havespoken to you of this before, my frien d . Or again Whatpossesses you , my frien d ? Come to your senses .

” But insayin g this , he sets his teeth sl ightly and the lines about his

1 . This n ame is given in Russia to the mayors of larg e villag es ; they are

chosen fromamong the peasan ts.

z . The worst: is about an eig hth of amile.0 0

3 . All the French phrases retained in the text are in French In the Russian

text .

2 THE BURGOMASTER .

mouth con tract. Arcadi Pav litch is of medium height , hisfigure is fine, his features are notwan tin g in a certain Charm,

and he takes very great care of his hands and nails ; hischeeks and red lips glow with health , he laughs loud andheart ily, and he can , if necessary , give to his light eyes apleasin g l

twin kle that makes his mann ers still more attraet ive . e dresses with taste , buys Fren ch books and prin ts ,takes the papers— although reading has n o particular charmfor him it was as much as he could do to get through the

Zuif- Erran t . He is an excellen t card- player. I n a word ,rcadi Pav litch is one of the most accomplished seig neurs ,and on e of the best matches in the governmen t ; womenrave over him and g o into ecstasies over the elegance ofhis mann ers . But with all this he is extremely reserved ,cautious as a cat , an d is never m ixed up in any compromisin g affair ; yet, on occasion , he is not above putting himselfforward to the ext ent of contradict ing a timid man so as toput him entirely out of coun ten ance . He is a pronounceden emy of bad company , and above all dreads an y breach ofthe usages deman ded by society ; n otwithstanding which inmomen ts of good humor he affects to be an epicurean .

But yet he has little respect for philosophy ; he calls it thevaporous food of the German in tellect , and at t imes eventreats it as in si id trash . He is famil iar with music ; whileplaying cards , e often sings in a low voice with much expression he kn ows by heart a few passages fromLucia andSon n amoula , but he generally pitches them a lit tle too high .

He passes his winters at Petersburg . H is house in town , as

well as his house in the coun try , 13 kept with the greatestcare ; the in fluence that he has on his servants in th isrespect is so great that even his coachmen feel it not on lydo they take the greatest care of the harness and clean theirown clothes , but they wash their faces . It is true that allh is doaram" gen erally have rathera surly look ; however, onemust n ot judge anything by that, for it is almost impossible ,as every one knows , to make out in our dear coun trywhether it is ran cor or sleep that troubles the features ofa servan t . A rcadi Pav litch speaks in a sweet thou g h shrillvoice ; he pronoun ces slowly , and seems to confide thewords

1 . Domestic serfs taken from amon g the peasan ts . They form a class bythemselves, receive board and wages , and are deprived of the port ion of lan dthat they own as peasan ts . They are dressed like European s. This class , orrather this caste, dates from a long distance back ; the descen dan t of a

fivoroui never g oes back to his former condition . They are the proletaries ofusual .

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4 THE BURGOMASTER.

It seems to me I asked you a question , my friend ,added A rcadi Pav litch calmly , looking fixed] at him.

The unfortun ate footman moved un easi y , but withoutleavin g his place , twisted mechanically between his fingersthe n apkin that he held , and did n ot utter a word .

A rcadi Pav litch bowed his head , glanced at the guiltyman , and seemed to reflect .

Pardon , mon elzer , he soon said to me with a gracioussmile , placing his hand in a frien dly way on my kn ee ; thenhe again looked at the footman .

“Well , then , g o hesaid to him after a moment’s silence ; and resuming hisusual expression , he rang.

A thick- set man , with swarthy complexion , black hair andretreating forehead , and eyes swimming in fat , appearedbefore us .Let them make then ecessary preparation s— for Theo

dore ,” said A rcadi Pav litch , in a low voice and a perfectly

easy man n er.“You shall be obeyed , an swered the large man , and hedisappeared .

Voila, mon e/zer , [es de'

sag remen ts de la campag ne, A rcadiPavlitch remarked gayly . But where are you going ?Stay here a little longer . ”

No ,” I replied ; “ it is time for me to go .

A lways shoot ing ! Ah ! sportsmen are really terrible.But which way are you going n ow

Fort verstes from here , to Rébova.

To ébova ? Ah ! but in that case I will g o with you .

Rébova is on ] five verstes from my coun try place of Chipilofka

,where have n ot been for a long time ; I have n ot

been able to find a moment’s time for that. But this is

just the thing. You can shoot all day , and return in theevening to my house . Ce sera clmrman t ; I will take acook , we will sup together, and you shall sleep at Chipilofka .

That’s the idea ! that’s the idea he added , without wait ing

an answer. C’

est arrang e. Hey ! who’s there ? Let them

hitch up the carriage, and as quickly as possible . You havenever been to Chipilofka ? I should scruple to ask you topass the night there in my Burgomaster ’s house , where Iusually sta but I know that you are n o t hard to please , andbesides at ébova you would have to sleep just the same in thebarn on the hay . Let us be off ! let us be off and A rcadiPav litch sang some French song or other.“Perhaps you don

'

t know ,

” he resumed , swayin g from

J‘

HE BURGOMASTER. 5

s ide to side , “ that my peasan ts are a l’

aoro/lr ;l how can it

be helped ? Yet the pay me very reg ularly . A long timeag o , I admit , I woul have put them un der feudal serv ice ,but the villag e has too l ittle lan d for that . I am aston ishedthat they could ever make both en ds meet ; but e

'est leur

aj aire. I have on der a Burgomaster who is a fine fellow !une orte té

'

te. e is really a man of executive ability ; yoush 1 see for yourself. Ah ! really , this is very opportun e .

There was nothing to be don e . Instead of starting out immediate] we were n ot on our way before two in the aftern oon . Sportsmen will un derstand my disappoin tmen t.A t times Arcadi Pav litch l iked , as he himself said , to takehis ease . Con sequently he took such a quan t ity o f l in en ,

Clothes , perfumes , cush ions , and n ecessaries o f every kin d aswould have lasted an econ omical German for more than ayear . Every time we wen t down hill he spoke shortly, butsharply, to his coachman , from which I thought I had aright to con clude that my dear n eighbor was a great coward .

Yet the journey came to an end very happily ; the on lyaccident that happen ed had n o disag reeable consequences.On e of the hin d wheels of the teleg a

2which carried the cookbroke through a bridge that had just been repaired , thisimportan t person ag e receiving a slight blow in the stomach .

When A rcadi Pav li tch saw the danger thatCaréme, the cook,ran , he was really frightened , and sen t to find out whetherhe had hurt his hand ; but as the answer that was broughth im completely reassured him as to this , he resumed his usualplacid ity. We wen t alon somewhat slowly , and towardsthe end of our journ ey felt extremely t ired ; I sat atA rcadi Pavlitch ’

s side , and at the end of an hour’s con ver

sation he took up liberalism , for wan t of a better subject .We at last came to Chi ilofka and n ot to Rehova ; the

coachman did n ot know ow it happen ed . But it wasalready too late to shoot that day , and I made up my mindwi ll ingly or unwill ingly to endure my lot with res ignat ion .

The cook , who had arrived a few momen ts before us , hadhad time to make all the necessary arran emen ts and in

form all who could have any interest in it 0 our arrival .As we en tered the village we met the Starosta ’ (theBurgomaster

’s son ) he was a sturdy peasan t , with red hair ,

1 . An an nual ren t that varies according to the time and frees the peasan tsfromall manua l labor to their lord ’s profit .a. A very lig ht four-wheeled cart .

3 . A title in ferior to that of Burgomaster.

6 THE BURGOMASTER .

and of gigan tic height . He was waiting for us on hishorse , his hat off, and arrayed in a new armiakl that had n o

belt .Where is Safron e ? asked Pav litch .

The en ormous Starosta jumped to the round , and bowingprofoun dly to his master , said to him, ood- day , my fatherA rcadi Pav litch then drawin g himself up to his full height ,and throwing back his hair by a shake of the head , he added

Ehat Safrone had gone to Pétrova , but that he had been sen tor.Well , then , follow us , A rcad i Pav litch said to him and

we started off.The Starosta drew up his horse by the side of the roadout of respect to us , jumped on its back , and began to followour carriage at a fu ll trot , but with his hat st ill in hishan d . While going through the village we met severalpeasan ts with empty télégas ; their legs hung out of theserustic vehicles , the jolting of which made them boun ce inthe air every min ute ; they were return in g fromwork and

singing at the top of their voices . But as soon as they sawour carriage and the Starosta they became silen t , took off

their fur hats (though it was midsummer) , and rose up as ifthey were waiting for orders . A rcadi Pav litch bowed tothem in a dign ified man n er as we passed . A n unaccus

tomed stir soon spread throughout the village . The peasan twomen in striped skirts were throwing sticks at the dogs whowere so zealous , or so un discern ing , as to welcome us withtheir barkin g s . A lame old man , whose white beard grewalmost to his eyes , hastily took away from the drin king- fountain a horse that he had just led there who was n ot yetthrough drinking , and, after kicking him in the side without the slightest cause , greeted us. Children in long shirts’

ran off howlin g as we came up , and lay down flat on theirstomachs upon the door- sil ls , lowered their heads , raisedtheir feet in the air, and in this posture slid to the bottom ofthe dark sin is’ of their respective houses , which they did n ot

leave again . Even the chicken s fled into the yards . A cockwith a black breast shin ing l ike a satin waistcoat , and ascarlet tail float ing in the breeze , was the on ly l iving being

1 . A long cloth great - coat eculiar to the easan ts .

a. A ll summer in the V i ! ages the Children on ly wear (straig ht) shirts,g athered In at thewaist by a narrow belt , and o barefooted .3 . A cool room without windows , and whio takes the place of the an te

chamlberhi n the houses of the Russian peasan ts. The door- sill is generallyvery 1g

THE BURGOMASTER. 7

that had had the audacity to remain in the road as we approached, and he was even preparing to crow , when sudden lyhe became disturbed and took to fl ight in his turn .

The Burgomaster'

s house was by itself, in the middle ofan en closure sown with hemp , then in full g rowth , The carriag e stopped before the door . Pénotchkine arose , and witha very picturesque movemen t letting the cloak thatwas thrownover his shoulders slip off, he al ighted , looking benevolent]about him. The Burgomaster’s wife came towards us witmany bows and put her l ips to the seign orial hand . Arcad iPavlitch let her cover it with kisses , and then walked downthe steps. The Starosta ’s wife was squatting in a dark corn er on the floor of the fron t room ; she bowed to her master,but did not dare to kiss his han d . I n the summer- Chamber, l

which was to the right of that in which we were , two othern ts were busy putting the place in order in great haste ;

they took from it a lot of rubbish , empty jars , touloupes’ with

skin hardened by long usage , butter- pots , and a cradle full ofdifferent- colored rags , holdin g a nursing infan t ; they sweptup the dirt that covered the floor with the bundle ofbranches that they used in the bath .

’ Arcadi Pav litch sentthem away and sat down on the bench near the imag es .

‘

The coachmen began to bring in the trunks , the mon ey- boxes ,and other objects , try ing to make as l ittle noise as possiblewith their heavy boots .

During this time Arcadi Pav litch was asking the Starostaabout the crops and other thin g s that appertained to ag ricultural economy . The Starosta 8 answers were sat isfactobu t his man n er was awkward and embarrassed on e wou dhave im in ed that he was trying to button his kaftan in themiddle fiwinter with fingers n umb from cold . He stoodn ear the door and kept turn ing his head as if afraid somethingwould happen to him; he also took a great deal of interestin the in cessan t coming s and goin g s of the footmen . Thoughhe almost entirely hid the door from me , I saw behin d him,

in the fron t room , the Burgomaster’s wife , who was belabor

in g another peasant . But soon a n oise ofwheels was heard ,and a téléga stopped before the house the Burgomastercame in to the room .

3 . A summer apartmen t , generally adjoin in g the win ter on e, or at leastun der the same roof.

2. A sheep-skin pelisse.0

3 . The Russian peasan ts whip themselves tn their bath: with little bun dlesof branches covered with leaves .

4. Place ofhonor in peasan ts’houses.

8 THE BURGOMASTER .

This administrator, as Arcadi Pav litch called him, wasshort , but his shoulders were broad , and though his hair wasgray , he was sti ll in his prime ; his nose was red , his eyes werea grayish blue , and his heardwas huge . Here I must makethe followin g observation : Since Russia has existed , thosewho have become rich wear an immense beard . Some peasan t whom we know has rather a scan ty beard ; some fine daywe meet him and not ice with amazemen t that his face is en

?ircle

gwith a veritable halo . Where does this ornament come

romThe Burgomaster seemed to have enjoyed himself verymuch at Petrova ; he exhaled adecided odor of brandy, andhis face was somewhat bloated .

“Ah ! you our fathers , our benefactors , he began to exclaim in a high drawl ing voice , giving such a keen expression of tenderness to his face that he seemed on the pointof shedding a torrent oftears , then you have con descendedto come and see us ! Your l ittle hand , my father, your dearhand l” he added , putting out his l ips e erly.

A rcadi Pavlitch hastened to gratify t is proof of attachment .Well , father Safrone, how are things getting on ? he then

asked the Burgomas ter in almost a caressing ton e.

Ah 1 father, he replied , how could they g o badly Are

you n o t our fathers , our ben efactors ? You have deignedto hon or our poor villag e with your presen ce you havefilled us with hap iness for the rest of our da 5 , God bepraised Arcadi Rav litch ; God be praised verythin ggoes well , than ks to our kin dn ess .A fter saying this , airon e became silen t andremained quietfor a moment , his eyes fixed on his master ; but a n ew burstof feel ing (which became more and more maudlin) tookpossession of him ; he began to kiss Arcadi Pav litch

’

s handsmore than ever, and then resumed in the same ton e ,“Ah ! very merciful fathers— and— what more ?God forgive me, but I really thin k joy is making meYes, I take God to witness, I can

’

t believe my eyes . Ah !

fathers.Arcadi Pavlitch cast a mean ing glance at me , smiled , and

said , Al'

est eepasque e’

est tout/tan t .9"

But , my father A rcad i Pav litch , continued the irrepressible Burgomaster , “why were

(you n ot leased to inform

me of your coming ? l am in espair. herewill youthe night ? Everything here is out of order , full of dirt .

’

THE BURGOMA STER . 9

That ’s no matter, Safrone ; that’s n o matter, answered

Arcadi Pav litch with a smile . It ’s all right here .

“Yes , for us peasan ts , said Safrone ; but for you ? Ah !you our fathers , our ben efactors !

”

But in the mean while supperwas brought in . Arcadi Pavl itch sat down to the table . Safron e sent away his son

,

tell in him he ta inted the air.

ell , have you fin ished the surveys , my old fellow ?Pénotchkine asked him , trying to imitate the peasant

’s talk ;and he looked at me with a satisfied air.

“The surveys are all don e , my father, answered Safron e,

thanks to your kindness . Three days ag o the contractwassigned . The Klin ovas at first did n ot l ike it ; yes , they didnot l ike it at all. They deman ded— they deman ded— Godknows what ! But they are a lot of fools , my father ; thosepeople are silly . As to us , my father , than ks to your goodn ess ,we are all through , and we have t/tankea"Nicolai Niko laitch ,

the surveyor. Sti ll con forming to your orders , father ; that is ,paying Egor Dmitrich.

”

“Egor told me of it , said Pénotchkine in consequentialton es. “Now , then , are you satisfied

Ah ! you our fathers , our ben efactors ! sudden ly criedSafrone, who had been waiting for this question some time ,“why should we not be ? We pray to God for you n ight andday. There is no doubt the villa e has not en ough lan d

All right , all right , Safron e,’ said Péno tchkin e, in terrupt

ing him ; I kn ow you are a faithful servant. And thethrashing, how is that getting onThe thrashing , father, I must admit , repl ied Safrone

ut terin a deep sigh, “,has not come to much . But , A rcad i

Pavlitc let me tell you something that happen ed to usand here , with his arms apart , he came towards his master,and bending his head , he said to him , shutt ing on e eye , A

dead body has been foun d on our lan d .

What 8 that said Pén o tchkin e quickly .

I kn ow nothi ng about it myself, my good father ; thedevil doubtless has a hand in it. But fortunately the body ,though on our land , was very near our boun daries . I immediately ordered them to drag it into our n eighbor

’s fieldbefore it was too late . Then 1 put a watch there , and saidto our people , Say nothin g about it ! I order it Moreover

x. This means in Russia that money and presen ts are g iven to g overnmen tag en ts.

IO THE BURGOMA STER .

I then explained it all to the stan avoi , ’ treating him to tea ,

and then as was right I titan/ted him . Would you believeit , father ? The blame was laid on others , and a dead bodyis n o t a small affair, as you know ; it cost at least two hundred roubles , as true as you must pay five kopeks for a

kala ton.

Pén otchkin e was very much pleased with the skill theBurgomaster had shown about this and repeated to me several t imes , ! uel

’

g a illard .’ Izez

’

n ?

But it was already night . Arcadi Pavlitch ordered thetable to be cleared , and hay to be brought . The footmenspread out the bedclothes , put the pillows in place , and wewen t to bed . Safrone also

OW ithdrew, after he had taken hismaster

’

s orders for the n ext day. As he was fall ing asleep ,Pén otchkine again recurred to the excellent qualities of theRussian peasan t , and recalled the fact that since the daySafrone had been appoin ted Burgomaster the peasants ofChipilofka had regularly paid their ren t — The watchmanstruck on his plane/re,

“a child not yet old enough to be imbued with the respect due his lord began to cry somewhereabout the house : we soon fell asleep .

The n ext morn ing we awoke uite early. I was gettinready to go to Rehova , but Area 1 Pavlitch insisted thatshould see his property ; and as I was n ot sorry to examin efor myself the merits of this model admin istrator who governed the village , I consen ted to go with him . The Burgomaster appeared ; he had on a blue armiak and a redbone/tack } He was n ot so talkative as the night before ;he looked atten tively at his master, and answered his questions with much tact and in tell igence . We wen t with himto the thrashing-floor ; his son , the g i antic Starosta , whofrom all appearan ces was a man of shal ow mind , join ed us ,with the z'emséozls Fédocéitch , a retired soldier with an en ormous pair of mustaches and the strangest face imaginableon e would have thought that he had once had a terriblefri ht , and that he was sti ll laboring un der the effects of it.e visited the thrashing - floor, the drying - rooms , the

barn s , the windmill , the poultry- yards , the orchards , and the

1 . Police ofi cer of the district .3 . V e soft white bread , and very popular in the coun tr

y.

3 . I n t e villages , and even in the towns, thewatchmen eepwatch all n ig htnear the n ouses and seignorial premises , and strike from time to time on a

metal plate hung up

.

4. A large belt o wool or Si lk.5. A scribe attached to the governmen t of an estate.

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I 2 THE BURGOMASTER .

few steps from the door two peasan ts were standing near amuddy pool of water in which several ducks were laz ily paddlin g about . On e was an old man of about sixty , the othera boy of twenty . They wore thick lin en Shirts‘made in thevillag e ; a cord served as a belt , and they were barefooted .

The zemskoi Fédocéitch walked about them with an

anxious air, and it is probable that he might have inducedthem to go away if we had been a little longer in looking atthe sieve . But as soon as he saw us he took the position ofan un armed soldier , and never left it. The Starosta was alsoat the side of the two peasants ; his mouth was open and his

fists clen ched , but he seemed undecided as to what he shoulddo . A rcadi Pav litch frowned , bit his l ip , and approachedthe peasants ; they threw themselves at his feet .What do you wish of me ? What is all this about ? he

asked them in a severe and nasal voice .The peasan ts looked at each Other without saying a word ;

but they blin ked their eyes a little , as one does when the sun‘

is too bright , and breathed quickly.

Well, what is it ?

”

repeated A rcadi Pav litch in the sameton e , and he turn ed to the Burgomaster. To what familydo they belongTo the Toboleieffs , an swered the Burgomaster slowly.

Well,what do you wish of me ?” resumed Pén otchk in e.

Have you no tongue , hey ? Answer. What do you wanthe contin ued looking at the old man .

“Come ! don ’t beafraid , fool .The old man stretched out his long wrinkled sun - burntneck ; his pale lips con tracted , and he answered in a hoarsevoice , Protect us , seign eur , and again threw himselfon the groun d , striking it with h is forehead . The youngpeasant followed his example . A rcadi Pav litch fixed hisglance on their necks with a dignified air, threw his headback , and spread his legs apart .“What is it ? Ofwhomdo you complainHave pity on us , seign eur. A llow us to live. We are

ruined . The o ldman expressed himself with difficulty.

“Who has ruin ed you ?”

Safron e Jakovlitch , my father.A rcadi Pavlitch was silen t . What is your name ?An t ipe, my good father.

g.

lThe peasan ts when in the villag ewear a linen or calico shirt held in by

a e t.

THE BURGOMASTER . I 3

And he , who is he ?My son .

A rcadi Pavlitch was ag ain silent for a few moments, buthis l ips trembled .

“How has he ru ined you ?” he at lastsaid, curl ing his mustache .My father,

”

resumed the oldman , he has utterly ruin edus. Hehas already made two of my sons sold iers , out of turn , ‘and he n ow wishes to take away the third . Yesterday , myfather , he took from our yard the last two cows we had ,and beat my or wife . That is what h is grace was pleasedto do l” A n while saying these words , the oldman pointedat the Starosta.

Hey said Arcadi Pavlitch.

Do not let him ruin us entirely ; you are our fosterfather. ”

Pénotchkine’

s face became very dark . Indeed , whatdoes this mean he asked theBur omaster in a slow voice ,and in a tone that showed a secret iscon ten t .

He is a drunkard ,”

said the Burgomaster respect fully ,“an idler ; his rent is five years in arrears .

Safron e Jakov litch helped me with what I wanted topay it ; that was five years ag o , and ever sin ce he has obligedme to work on his accoun t— and besides

Andwhy were you not able to pay your ren t ? an sweredPén otchkine in a threatenin g voice . The old man hunghis head . You are fond of drin k ? You han abouttavern s ?” The old man was about to speak . knowyou , contin ued Pén otchkin e with heat ; “ your business isto drink and to l ie stretched out over the stove goodpeasants are obl iged to be responsible for you , and you letthem do it . ”“And what is more , he is insolent , added the Burgomaster , try ing to outdo his master.“That’s not strange , said Pénotchkine ; “ it is always so .

I have noticed that more than once . They give themselvesup to debauchery all the year, and then they come and crawlat your feet .My ood father A rcadi Pav litch , cried the old man in

a tone o despair , “ have pity on me ; defend me ! I in so

x. In eve village all the families liable to en listmen t are enro lled in a determined or er, and on ly furn ish so ldiers to the state in their turn ; the peasan ts look on the non - observance of this order as a great in justice.

a. The Russian peasan ts lie , in win ter, on a little platformthat is put abovethe stove a few feet fromthe ceilin g .

I 4 THE BURGOMASTER.

len t ? We can stand it no longer. It is as true as if I spokein God ’s presence. Safrone j akov litch has taken an aversion to me ; and why ? May the Lord God be the judge ofit ! he has crushed us. This is my last son ; and him alsohe wishes Tears glistened in the old man ’s half- closedeyes . Have pity on us , all - powerful master , defend us“A nd we are not the only ones whom he has crushed ,said the young man .

But A rcadi Pav litch did n ot give him time to finishhe re lied impetuously : “A nd you , who 5 oke to you ,eh ? No one spoke to you ; be silent ! hat does hemean to sa Si lence , I tell you , silence . Ah ! greatheaven s ! ut this is simpl rebell ion . No , n o , brother,I am n ot the one to be de ed . A rcadi Pavlitch madea step forward ; but, doubtless remembering that I waspresent , he drew back and put his han ds in his pockets .7e uous de‘mande oien pardon , mon elzer ,

” he added with astrained smile , turning tome ; and in a lower voice , C

’

est

le reuers de la meda ille. Come , that will do ,

” he addedwithout looking at the peasants ; “ I will give orders. Thatwi ll do ; g o .

The peasan ts did not move .I have just told you , it seems to me , that will do .

Come , now . I wi ll give my orders ; they will be repeatedto you . A fter saying this , A rcadi Pav litch turned his backto them . Noth ing but disagreeable things !” he said between h is teeth , and he strode towards the house . Safronefollowed him ; the zemskoi kept his eyes fixed before him,

as if he was getting ready to make a perilous leap. TheStarosta drove away the ducks that were still paddlingabout the pool. The two suppliants still remained a fewmoments in the same place ; then , looking about them ,

wen t slowly towards the v illage.About two hours later I was at Rehova , and was getting ready to g o shooting with Anpadiste, a peasant whomI knew. I began to talk with him about the peasan ts ofChipilofka , about Pén otchkin e, and asked him if he knewthe Burgomaster of the vill e .

Safron eJakovlitch ? I s ould thin k so .

What kind of man is he ?He is n ot a man ; he is a dog , a

nd a dog such as youwill n ot find from here to Koursk.

How’

s thatThe land of Chipilofka only belongs nominally to

— how

THE BURGOMASTER . I 5

did you just call him — to Pénotchkine. Safrone, he alon e isthe master.Is it possible ?He does as he pleases with his own . All the peasants

are his debtors ; he makes them work on his account l ikeday- laborers. He sends some of them to one place , some toanother. He has en ti rely crushed them .

”

“They have not much lan d , I have heard .

Well , Safrone Jakovlitch rents more than eightytines

l from the asan ts of Klin ova, and one hun dred andtwenty from ot ers , without counting the rest— there isalready more than two hundred . But he does not draw profitfrom the soil on ly ; he also deals in horses cattle , tar, oil ,hemp , and a

great many other things bes ides . How rich

the brute is ! ut the worst of it is that he beats them. Heis a ferocious beast and not a man , as you have heard ; areal dog.

“But why don ’t the peasants carry their complaintsagain st him to their lord“ In deed ! But what does it matter to the master ?There are n o arrears ; he don

’t care for the rest. Ah ! whyyes,

” he resumed after reflecting for a moment ; “ I advise them to make a complaint ! ah he— yes ; I advise them .

Ah ! as you say , bk"

I remembered An t ipe, and told him of the scene I hadjust witn essed .

“Ah , well , an swered Anpadiste,“he will ruin him. He

will ruin that man without pity. The Starosta will beat himto death . Ah ! how stupid he is ! Can you imag ine such ath ing —the un fortunate man ! And why does he suffer somuch ? I will tell you . He had a dispute one day with theBurgomaster at a g athering of peasants . Since then he hashad a grudge against him . A fine business ! From thattime he began to worry An t ipe ; now he is about to makean end of him . He is a do g ; may God forgive me ! Heknows well whom to attack ; he does not touch the richold men who have large famil ies. He spares them , thebald - headed devil ! But the others , he falls on them without pity. The miserable wretch He has already taken twoof A n t ipe

’

s son s before their turn ; the pitiless man ! Heis a true dog ; may God forgive meWe started off on our way .

I . The deciatine is a little more than two hectares (a hectare is 2 acres 3

i 6 j ERMOLAi AND THE M I LLER ’

S WI FE.

CHAPTER I I .

JERMOLAI AND THE MILLER’

S WIFE.

ONE evening j ermola! and I started out stand- shooting .

But possibly the reader does not know what th isterm mean s . I Wi ll explain it in a few words .About a quarter of an hour before sun set , in the spring ,

you go into the woods , without a dog , and your g un overyour shoulder . After choosing a suitable place on the edgeof a clearing, you take your position ; thus posted , you lookabout in every d irection , examin e your caps , and from timeto time exchange a look of in tell igence with your companion . A quarter of an hour passes by . The sun hasalready set , but it is n ot yet dark in the woods ; the air isClear and tran sparent ; the birds , vying with each other,twitter about you ; the tender grass sparkles like an emerald . You wait . The day begin s to fade rapidly ; the reddish fires that light the horizon fall gen tly upon theroots and trun ks of the trees ; then , mount in g little bl ittle , they color the lower branches loaded with buds ha fopen , and at last reach their motion less tops that seem tobe dozin g. But they die out in their turn . The heaven s ,

purple up to that t ime , become bluer and bluer. The air isimpreg nated with the fragran t perfume that the woods giveout at this hour of the day ; a l ight breeze , damp and

scarcely perceptible , breathes at in tervals , and dies awayn ear you in the branches . The birds go to sleep on e afterthe other : the fin ches are the first to become quiet ; a fewmoments after, the warblers ; then the wit -walts . Darknesscomes on apace ; the trees become to the eye con fusedand gigan tic masses ; a few stars twinkle timidly in thevault of heaven ; most of the birds are Sleepin The redstarts and the young woodpeckers are the on y ones thatst ill whistle , but the become silen t in their turn . Theloud little song of the pewits is heard for the last timeabove your head ; the plain tive cry of the oriole an swers itin the distan ce ; at the bottom of the woods a n ig htingale

j ERMOLAi AND THE M I LLER ’

s WI FE. I 7

has just given forth its first note . Impatience takes possession of you . Sudden ly ,— but a sportsman alone can understand me ,— in the midst of the deep silence that has reign edthe last few momen ts , a pecul iar n oise arises it is thesoun d of wings rapidly movin g together, and a woodcock ,with its long beak gracefully in clined , fl ies out of the darkfol iag e of a birch and comes slowly towards you .

That is what is understood by stand - shooting. Thus Istarted out with j ermolal to g o shooting. But I forgot oneimportant thing : I have yet , dear reader, to introduce youto my companion .

Picture to yourself aman of about five- and- forty , with a highnarrow forehead and a long sharp nose . Add to these g rayeyes , bristly hair , and a scorn ful smile perpetually playingover his th ick lips . This strange person wears at all seasonsa yellowish nan keen kaftan , cut after the German fashion ,and clasped at the loins by a kouchack large blue trousers

,

and a hat trimmed with sheep- Skin a n eighboring proprietorhad made him a presen t of this fin e head - dress in a fit ofgood- humor. Two bags hung at his belt , one in fron t , theot her behind the first was tied so as to form two compartmen ts nearly of the same size , to hold his powder and shot;the second was for game . For wadding he simply plungedhis han d in to his hat , which , in this res

pect , seemed really to

be an inexhaustible mine . The idea 0 buyin g a game-bagor a powder-flask with the money he g ot from the sale of thegame never occurred to him he had always loaded his gunwith the accoutremen ts we have just described , and, to thecat aston ishmen t of those who looked on at the operation ,

e did it without spilling a single grain of shot or powder.H is gun was single- barrelled and a flin t - lock ; moreover, itkicked in such a man ner that j ermo lai

’

s right cheek hadbecome a great deal larger than his left . With such a gunany on e else would never have hit a sin le piece of game ;but Jermola

‘

i' seldom missed his aim . oreover, he owned

a pointer, and this strange an imal bore the n ame of V aletka .

H is master n ever thought of feedin g him . I feed a dog l”

he would say to this . Come , now they are intell igen t an imals ; they can feed themselves . A nd in deed , althoughV aletka aroused compassion in the most in different passer- byb his frightful lean n ess , he lived and l ived a long t ime .

l il'

owever sad his lot , he n ever happened to be lost , n or didhe show the sl ightest desire to desert his master. On ceonly , in his youth , he had disappeared for two entire days ;

I 8 j EIeMOLAI’

AND THE M I LLER’

s WI FE.

but this period of folly was of short duration . What especially characterized V aletka was a complete indifferen ce toeveryth ing in the world ; if the word could be applied to adog, I should say that he was blase

'

. He had a habit of sittin g on his hind legs , frown ing , with his tail curled un derhim ; from time to time his leg s twitched nervously . Buthis emaciated face never brighten ed (dogs, as every on e

knows , can sometimes smile , and often with much charm) .Poor V aletka

’

s appearance was therefore n ot very prepossessing ; he was also perpetually the butt for the exasperatingjokes of all the idle servan ts : but although these disrecable remarks were often accom an ied by blows ,aletka bore them with an imperturbable coolness . This

was especially the case in regard to scullion s with whom hehad a bone to pick ; when , as often happen s and to creaturesof a h igher order, he was so weak as to poke his nose in to thehal f - o n door of the kitchen to sniff the warm scen ted air,a soul ion never failed to leave his stove and pursue the unfortunate V aletka in to the yard with loud shouts . V aletka

was indefatigable while hunt ing, and had rather a good nose ;but every time that he ran down a woun ded hare , he devoured it with delight in some out- of—the- way corner ,in the shade un der a thick bush , without leaving a morsel ;and always , be it understood , at a respectful distan ce from

Lermolai , who at such times n ever failed to apostrophizeim un sparingly , in all possible dialects ; he often even ia

ven ted terms for the occas ion .

Jermolal belonged to one of my neighbors , a man of theold school. Proprietors of this class do not care for gamein gen eral they prefer the domestic fowl . But n everthelessthey depart from this rule on certain occasions , as for example on fete - days and birthdays, or at elect ion- t ime.

l Thecooks of the seign eurs in question then proceed to theculinary preparat ion of woodcock and other long- beakedbirds . Impelled by the feverish emotion that takes possession of a Russian when he finds himself in a predicamen t , they manag e to prepare dishes with such season ingsthat the g uests do not ven ture to do them honor but confine themselves to examining them with curiosity . JermolaIobliged to bring every month a few pairs of grouse for

the seignorial table ; otherwise he was allowed to g o free

I . The election s to differen t posts that the nobility are called on to fill theytakeplaceevery three years.

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ao j EFM ozAI'

AND THE M I LLER '

S WIFE .

but one thing he could not do : it was impossible for himto break a dog for want of patience . Jermolal was marriedhe wen t once a week to see his wife , who l ived in a halfruin ed hut and in misery , without knowing from day to daywhether she would have en ough to eat . The lot of this unfortunate creature was very sad . j ermolai , though indifierent in gen eral , was not wan t ing in humanity for his fellowcreatures ; but to his wife he was rough and even extremelyhard ; when he entered his house , his face became dark and

threatening ; his wife , who trembled l ike a leafat sight of him ,

did all she could to be ag reeable to him , and robbed herself ofher last kopek to buy him brandy; andwhen he stretched outon the stove and fell into a profoun d sleep she covered himover ten derly with her own touloupe. I had often noticed inhim an in dication of ferocious cruelty ; the expression thatcame over his features when , in order to fin ish a woun ded bird ,he bit it , had always im ressed me . Yet Jermolal neverpassed more than one ay at home , and once away heresumed that air of good - n ature that had obtained forhim the famil iar n ickname ofJermolka (l ittle calotte) , atwhichhe did n ot seem to take offen ce , for on occasions he so calledhimself . The meanest of the dvorovi considered himselfsuperior to this v abond, and that perh

aps is why they were

friendly to him . 8 to the peasants , at rst they had oftenchased him across the fields l ike a hare , but they soon aveit up, and let him wander about at will in God

’

s han ds . henthey knewJermolai better, they n o longer ann oyed h im inany way ; they even gave him a piece of bread and will inglytalked with him about his wan dering habits . Such was thecompan ion whom I took to go shootin with in the greatbirch woods that stretched along the ban s of the Ista .

You meet with a greatmany rivers in Russia of which one

ban k is very steep and the other almost level with the water .The Ista is of this kind . This little river winds gracefullythrough the middle of a plain i t does n ot run a verste in astraight line , and there is on e point on i ts course where ,when you are above it on a high moun d , it stretches out before you ten verstes at least , with mills , and pon ds that feedit , dams that stop its waters , and orchards surrounded bywillows , and flocks of geese that are scattered over its banks .Fish abound there; especially mul let , that the peasan ts catchin their han ds under the bushes , during the hot weather.Little curlews fly whistling along its stony ban ks , downwhich run here and there springs of cold , clear water

j ERMOLAI’

AND THE MILLEF’s WIFE. 2I

wild ducks sudden ly ap ear in the middle of the ponds andlook atten tively about t em ; cran es perch at the bottom ofthe creeks , under the shadows of the bank .

A t the end of an hour we had killed two brace of woodcock . We decided to ive up shooting un til the first breakof dawn— for one can 5 oot from the stand just as well inthe morning as in the even ing— and go pass the night in thenearest mill . We left the wood and came to the river- bank .

The waters of the Ista were dark blue ; the clouds of va orthat hovered on its surface grew more andmore den se . eknocked at a door, and a prolonged barking arose at thebottom of the yard .

Who is there ?” called a hoarse , sleepy voice .

Hunters . Can we pass the night here There was no

answer. We are willing to pay .

“ I will tell my master,” replied the speaker. Be quiet,

you cursed beast ! May the devil take youWe heard the workman go back in to the house . He re

t urned a few minutes after , and approached the door .No , he said to us ; “ the master will n ot let you come

Why so ?He is afraid . You are hunters : who knows ? you mig ht

set the mill on fire . You have so many things W ithyou.

What nonsense !Las t year our mill was burned even without that. Fish

curers slept here , and it seems that they set fire to it, Godkn ows how .

But we can n ot pass the n ight in the open air.

”

Do as you l ike.”

And the workman wen t away . Weheard the noise of his steps re—echoing in the yard .

Jermolaiwished an y number of disagreeable thin g s . Let

us go to the villag e ,” he then said wit a sigh . But to get

there we must go at least ten verstes . ”“Let us sleep here , I said to him in my turn ; “here , in

the open air. The night is warm ; the miller, if we pay himwell , will bring us straw.

j ermo lai did not make the least objection , and we againknocked , harder than ever.What do ! you want now ? again cried the workman .

You were told that on could n ot come in .

We explain ed to imwhat we wished . He immediatelywent to consult his master , and returned with him . The

22 j EFM oLAI’

AND THE M I LLER’s WI FE .

éalitka‘creaked on its hinges , and the miller appeared . Hewas a tall man with face puffed with fat , a bull - n eck , anda large roun d stomach . He agreed to my request. A

l ittle shed Open on every side stood at a hundred paces fromthe mill ; they brought us straw and hay ; the workman puta samov ar2 on the grass , near the river and stooping down ,

began to blow the fire with all his might : the light of theglowing coals soon completely lighted up his youthful features . The miller ran to wake his wife , and at last decided toask me to l ie under his roof. But I preferred to pass thenight out Of doors . The miller

’s wife brought us milk , eggs ,potatoes , and bread . The samovar soon began to boil , andwe dran k our tea . V eils ofmist floated along the river ; thecry of the corn - crake was heard in the distan ce , and a confused murmur arose near the wheels Of the mill : it camefrom the little drops that fell from the motionless buckets ,and from the thin streams Of water that escaped through thedam. We l ighted a bundle Of dry bran ches , and while !g

ar

molal was busy boilin some potatoes I fell asleep . ut

it was not long before was awaken ed b the n oise Of a conversation that was taking place at a litt e distance from me.I raised my head ; the miller

’s wife was seated before thefire on a tub turned upside down , talking with my hun ter.I thought I recogn ized by her dress , her man ners , and herpron unciation that she belonged neither to the peasan t classnor to the townspeople ; she was eviden tly a dvorov i . In ow looked at her more attentively. She appeared to beabout thirty ; her pale thin features still bore the traces ofgreat beauty ; I was above all struck with the expression Ofsadn ess in her face. She sat with her elbows On her knees ,and her chin lean ing on her two han ds . As to Jermo lai , hehad

fturnedhis back to me , andwas busy throwing Chips . on

the re.The plague is again at Jeltoukhino , said the miller’s

wife ; father Ivan’

s two cows died of it. God have pityon us“A ndwhat have become of the swin e ? asked Jermolal

after a momen t’s silence .They are doing well .

“ In deed you on ht to give me a l ittle pig, at least.The miller’s wi e did not answer, but she g ave a deep

sigh. With whom are you

1 . Small en trance-door beside the la e one.

s . A copper tea- kett le, inside ofwhi is a hearth.

j ERMOLA I‘

AND THE M I LLER’S WIFE. 23

With the seigneur Of Kostamarova . Having said this,j ermolaf threw a few pine bran ches on the fire ; they immediately flamed up crackling, and a cloud of thick white smokecovered his face .Why wouldn ’t your husband let us into the houseHe was afraid .

Just th ink of it , the cursed fool ! My l ittle dove , A rinaTimofeiov na , bring me a glass of brandy .

”

The miller’s wife arose and disappeared in the darkn ess.

Jermolai began to sing in a low voice :

While going to seemy fair oneI used up the soles ofmy boots .

”

A rina came back with a decan ter and glass . Jermolai arose,crossed himself , and tossed Off at a draught the glass ofbran dy that the miller

’s wife had filled for himThat ’s good he said .

The miller’s wife sat down again on the tub.

“Are you still ill , Arina Timofeiovna

Yes .What’s the matter with you ?My cough doesn ’t allow me a moment’s rest at night.Methin ks the master has already gone to sleep , repl ied

Jermolai , after a momen t’s silence Don ’t consult a phy

sician , A rina ; you will be the worse for it.”

That’s just what I amdoing.

”

But come and see me .A rin a bowed her head .

I will send away in wife on that day , contin ued Jermolai . That’s what I ’ 1 do.

“You had better wake your master, Jermolai Petrovitch ;see , the potatoes are boiled .

Let him sn ore in peace , said my faithful servant calmly.

He is tired out and needs sleep .

I turn ed over on the hay . Jermolai arose , and approaching me, said with the greatest coolness ,The potatoes are ready . Will you get up to eat them ?I left the shed . The miller’s wife left her seat on seeingme

, andwent Off to a distan ce . I spoke to her.Have you rented this mill longItwill be two years Trin ity Day.

And your husband , where does he come fromArina did not hearmy question .

24 j EFMOLAI AND THE M ILLER ’s WIFE.

Where does your husban d come from ? repeatedJermolai with an im ortan t air , raising his voice.“From Bél va ; he is a citizen of that town .

A nd on , are you from BélévaNo ; belon

g— I belonged to a seigneur.

Who was beM . Zverkoff. Now I am free.What ZverkoffA lexan der Silitche.

Were you n ot his wife’s maid ?What do you kn ow about it ? Yes , I was.

I looked at A rina with redoubled interest. “ I knew yourmaster, I added .

“You knew him ? she replied in a low voice, bendingdown her head .

But I must tell the reader why A rina in spired me withso much compassion . A t the time Of my stay at SaintPetersburg I by chance made the acquain tan ce of M . Zverkoff. He held quite an importan t position , andwas generally thought to be a learn ed man and a man of experience .He was married. H is wife was remarkably stout and extremely sen sitive ; she wept on every occasion , yet she wasvery fool ish and very bad . The l ittle Zverkoff, a coun trysquire Of the worst kin d , was as foolish as he was badlybrought up . M . Zverkoff

’

s appearan ce did not prepossesson e in h is favor : in the middle of his enormous face weretwo l ittle bead- l ike eyes ; his nose was long and sharp , andhis nostrils open ; his short gray hair stood up like a pig

’sbristles above a wrinkled forehead ; his lips twitched con vulsively , and his smile was somewhat con strained . M . Zverkoff had a habit of standin g with his legs apart , and his largehands were rarely out of his trousers pockets . I once happen ed, I don

’t know why , to drive out of town with himte

’

te-a- te’

te. We began at once to talk . Zverkoff, in his capacify ofan earn est man , thought he ought to give me goodadvice .“Let me give you an importan t piece Of advice , he said

to me , in h is usual shrill voice ; “ you youn people speakand judge en tirely contrary to good sense . on kn ow veryl ittle about your own country ; yes , Russia , my dear sirs , isent irely strange to you . But on e is n ot surprised at this youread on ly foreign books . As , for in stan ce , you arg ue ag read deal about one thin g

and an other ; I mean aboutdomestic serfs. V ery well ; don

'

t deny it , all that is very

j EFMoLAI AND THE MILLER’S WIFE. 25

well ; but you don’t know them . And here Zverkoff blew

his nose loudly and took a pin ch of sn uff. Let me tell youa little an ecdote regarding them, he resumed ; perhaps itwill interest you. Then , having coughed to Clear his throat ,Zverkoff began : “Doubtless you kn ow what a wife I havethe good fortun e to possess ; I believe it to be impossibleto find a better person ; you yourself will agree to that.Certainly there could n ot be a happier lot than that of mywife ’s maids ; i t is truly bliss . But Madame Zverkoff hasmade it a rule n o t to have a married maid in her serv ice ;and, in deed , it

’s no use ; children come , and this thing andthat thing. How, I ask you, could a married maid do herduty and con form to her mistress ’s habits ? It’s n ot possible ; she has other things in her head . It ’s human nature .As , for example , one day , in going through on e of our villages , some time ag o

— how shall I tell you without exagcration — fifteen years ago , my wife and I noticed thetarosta

’

s daughter. She was a Charming girl ; she had a

something , you know , something very attract ive in hermann er. My wife immediately said to me , ‘Coco ,

’— that iswhat she calls me , you know , let us take this l ittle girl toPetersburg ; she pleases me.

’ ‘Take her ,’ I an swered ; ‘I ask

nothing better . ’ The Starosta fell at our feet ; he could nothave dreamt , you know , of such an hon or . As to the girl ,she naturally began to weep— foolishn ess . A t first there isn o trouble ; the thing may appear a little hard, I agree ;the patern al roof — in general , there is nothing extrao rdinary in that . I st ill persist that it is human n ature.Yet the girl soon became accustomed to us . A t first theyput her in the maid - servants ’ room to teach her , as wasproper. But what will surprise you, doubtless , is that she

made aston ish ing progress . My wife became very fond ofher , and at last con descended to attach her , in preference toan y other , — mark it well ,— to her own person . A nd to doher justice , I must say that She has n ever yet had a bettermaid ; she was an obliging, modest , obedient creature ; in aword , she had all the qualities that on e could desire. But

you must also see to what a deg ree my wife spoi led her. Inthis respect she wen t much too far ; she dressed her in thevery best , fed her o n our dessert , made her bring tea ; finally ,she gave her everything imaginable . I n this way she liveda dozen years n earmy wife . But one fine day just imagine myastonishment at seein g Arina (thatwas the girl

’s n ame) comeinto my own room without asking my permission . Rushing

26 j EFMoLAI AND THE M I LLER’S WIFE.

up to me , she threw herself at my feet. It is , I admit i t veryfrankly , a habit I can

’

t en dure . A human being must n everbe wan ting in di n ity ; don

’t you thin k so ? What do youwish ofme ? ’ I as ed Arina. My father A lexander Silitche.

I come to ask a favor of you.

’ ‘What is it ? ’ ‘A llow meto marry .

’ This deman d strangely surprised me , I admit.But you know very well , you little fool ,

’ I answered , ‘thatyour mistress has no other maid .

’ ‘I will still wait on heras usual .

’ ‘Come ! come ! your mistress does not wishto have a married maid .

’ ‘Melania can take my place .

’

‘I beg you not to discuss it.’ ‘It shall be as you wish .

’

I declare to you, I was dumbfounded . I am so con stituted that n othing exasperates me more , I venture to say,than ingratitude . I have n o need to repeat to you , youknow my wife ; she is an angel in human shape ; she isgoodn ess itself. The g reatest robber would be disarmedbefore her. I sent A rina away, and I thought that in timeshe would think better of it . I hate , you kn ow , to believein the evil and black ingrat itude of the human heart . Butwould you believe it — six mon ths after I again saw hercome towards me with the same pet ition . Th is time Iknew what she wanted . I drove her awa with indignation ; I threaten ed her, and even told her t at I would tellmy wife about it. I was quite upset. But imagin e myastonishmen t when , some time after, m wife ran to me intears and so troubled that I was frig tened .

‘What hashappen ed ? ’

A rin a ,’ she sa id to me, you kn ow— I blush to

tell it to you.

’ Is it possible ? But with whom, then ?’

Pé

t rouchka the footman .

’ This news made me beside myself.I am so con st ituted, I don

’t l ike half measures . Petrouchkawas n ot to blame . I could punish him ; but in

‘myopin ion he was n ot to blame. A s to Arina— what is thereto say ? There is really nothing. I naturally ordered thather hair should be cut off,

‘ that they should dress her insatrape

'

s ,’ and that She should be immed iately sen t to the

coun try . My wife lost in her, it is true , an excellent maid ,but there was noth ing to be done : yet it is impossible totolerate such disorders in a household ; it is best to cut off

immediately the tain ted member. Well , n ow, judge of itfor yourself ; you know my wife ; she is , as I have al ready

1 . To cut 03 a youn g woman’s hair is looked upon in Russia as an infamous

pun ishmen t .a . Coarse cloth with which the seigneurs dress thewives of the dvorovi ofe lowest class.

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28 j ERMOLA I AND THE M ILLER’S WIFE.

Peter V assilitch ? OfcourseWhere is he now?He is a soldier.We were perfectly quiet for a moment without speaking.

She seems to be suffering I asked my compan ion .

Ah ! I should think so ! But I ’ll wager that the shootingwill be good to - morrow. You had better sleep a little .

A fl ight of wild ducks passedwhizzin over our heads , andwe heard them al ight on the river n o t ar away. The n ightwas dark , and the cold was begin n ing to make itself felt.The n ightingale ’s song re- echoed through the woods . Weburied ourselves in the ha and a few minutes after we hadboth fallen into a profoun sleep.

BI ROUK . 29

CHAPTER I I I .

BI ROUK.

‘

WAS returning from shooting , alone in a droc-M i ,

“ Ihad still eight verstes to g o to reach my house . My

good mare , who n ever t ires , trotted along the wide dustyroad , and from time to time pricked up her ears and ve

a stifled neigh ; my tired dog followed close to the droc ki zo ne would have thought he was t ied to the wheels . Astorm was coming up . Opposite me a huge dark cloudarose slowly above the woods ; grayish clouds rushed rapidlytowards me ; the leaves of the willows beg an to move with amurmur. The heat , stifling up to that time , suddenly lessen ed , and the atmosphere became cold and damp ; it wasbecoming darker and darker . I struck my horse with thereins , descended in to the ravine , crossed successfully thebed of a little dried - up stream the banks of which werecovered with brushwood , ascended the opposite side , and

entered the woods . The road that I took woun d through a

thick clump of hazel- trees , in which it was already very dark ;I drove along almost at ran dom . My drochki struck atevery step again st the gnarled roots of old oaks and l in densand sank into the deep ruts made by cart- wheels my horsebegan to stumble . A violen t win d sudden ly sprang up , andrushed roaring through the woods ; the spatter of a few largedrops of rain was heard on the foliag e ; l ightn ing flashedthrough the heavens , and was almost in stan tly followed bythe roll ing of thun der. Rain soon fell in torren ts . I slackened my speed , andwas soon obliged to stop ; my horse san kdown into the mire , and I could no longer see more thantwo steps in fron t of me . However , I succeeded as well aspossible in getting un der the shelter of a thick bush . Ben tdouble , with my head buried in my cloak , I was wait ingpatiently for the end of the storm, when by the glare of a

x. In Russia they socall a surly man , one who lives by himself.a. An open vehicle W ith four very light wheels.

3 0 BI ROUK.

flash of l ightning I saw just ahead a form arise in the road ,and as I looked it stood before me , near the drochki, as if ithad risen out of the g round .

Who are you asked a loud voice.And who are you

I am the forester.I told him my name .

Ah I know you You are goin g home ?Yes but do you hear the storm ?It is very heavy , an swered the apparition .

But at that moment a viv id flash l ighted up theway , and Icould distinctly see the person who had accosted me . Thissudden flash was immediately followed by a violent clap ofthunder, and the rain came down harder than ever.“ It will not end very soon ,

” added the forester.What is to be done ?”

If you like, I will take you to my isba ,

”

said the foresterbruskly.

You will do me a great service .Please keep your seat.The forester came u to my horse , and taking him by thebridle , led him forward

)

. We started off. I clun on t o thecushion of the drochki, that was rockin to an fro l ike aboat on a rough sea, and called my dog . y poor mare san kinto the mud , crawled out and stumbled at every step ; theforester went ahead , n ow to the right, now to the left of theshafts , and advan ced into the darkness like a spectre . A fterhe had gone through a part of the woods in this way , myguide stopped .

Here we are at my house , master , he said to me quietly.

The kal itka creaked on its hinges , and the l ittle dogs began to bark in chorus in the yard . 1 100d up , andmadeout by the light of the flashes a little isba in the middle of alarge lot surrounded by a hedge . There was a dim l ight inon e of the narrow windows Of this place . The forester ledmy horse up to the steps , and kn ocked at the door.Coming ! crieda youthful voice ; then a patter

in g of bare feet was card. The bolt was drawn , and a littlegirl of twelve at the most, in a short sac ue drawn in at thewaist by a cord , appeared on the thresho d , a lantern in herhand .

x . TheRussian peasan t’s house. I t is built ofwood and compwed simply ofa g round- door.

BI ROUK. 3 I

Hold the l ight for the master, my host said to her,“and

I will put the drochki under the shed .

”

The little girl looked at me , andwent into the isba. I followed her.The forester’s home consisted of a single room ; and awretched room it was . It was low, smoky , and without theuten sils that one usually sees in a peasan t’s hut ; there wereneither part ition s nor lofts . A ragged touloupe hung on

the wall beyond , on the bench , was a g un , and a quan tity ofrags were heaped up in the corn er . Two large pots placedn ear the stove completed the furn iture that was made vis ibleby the fl icker of a loute/zz

'

n a burn ing on the table . Inthe middle of the room was a cradle fasten ed at the end

of a long pole . The l ittle girl put out the lantern , sat downon a Stool , and began to swing the cradle with on ehan d wh ilereviving the flame of the loutchin a with the other. I lookedabout the room ; the sight that I saw affected me deeply.

There is nothing sadder than the interior of a peasan t’s

isba at night. The child in the cradle was breathing painull}You are alone here ? I asked the little irl .Yes , I am alone , she answered in a wea timid voice.

Are you the forester’s daughter

Yes , she stammered .

The door open ed with a creak , and the forester, stOOpinin order to cross the threshold , en tered the room . He toothe lan tern that was on the ground , and brought it to thetable in order to light a can d le that was there .

You probably are n ot accustomed to the loutchina ? hesaid to me , throwing back his hair .I examin ed him atten tively, and his appearance impressedme. He was a tall man , broad- shouldered, with a figuresuch as on e seldom sees . The muscles of his chest and

brawn y arms stood out beneath the folds of his thick shirt ,which was dripping with water . A thick black beard coveredthe whole lower part of his stern , man ly face ; his bold ,dark , half- open eyes were shaded by well- formed eyebrowsthat almost met . He stopped before me, with his handson his hips .I thanked him and asked him his n ame .

My name is Foma,” he answered me , “and I am called

Birouk .

3 . A pine knot that the Russian peasan ts use to lig ht their cottages.

Ah ! you areBirouk ?I looked at him with redoubled interest . I had oft enheard the forester Birouk spoken of by Jermolal and otherin habitan ts of the country . The peasan ts feared himas theydid fire . There was n ever a man , they said , who fulfilled theduties that were confided to him with so much vigilan ce ; hewould not let them take away the slightest bit of a fagot ; atall hours of the day , and even in the middle of the n ight , hefell on them with the sudden n ess of a snow- squall , and therewas n o resisting him hewas strong andquick as the evil one.

There was noway of bribing him n either brandy n or moneyhad any effect on him ; n othing could seduce him . Manyt imes already had they charitabl tried to send him in to another world but they had utterly failed .

Such was Birouk’

s reputation with the peasants of theneighborhood.

Then you areBirouk I said to him .

“ I have often heardyou spoken of, brother. They claim that you are pitiless .I do my duty,

” he an swered abruptly ; one is not on ly toeat his master’s bread but to earn it . ”

He took the hatchet that hung at his belt , sat on theg roun d , and beg an to make a loutchina.

Have you n o wife ?” I asked him .

No , he an swered , g iving a heavy blow with his hatchet.

She is dead , thenNO—yes— she is dead , he replied ; and he turn ed away .

I was silent. He raised his head and looked at me .

She ran away with a passing bourgeois ,”

he said to mewith a ferocious smile . At these words the little girl lookeddown . The child awoke and began to cry . The l ittle girlwen t up to the cradle . Here ! take it , said Birouk to her,holdi ng out a nursin g- bottle covered with dirt . Lookthere ! she deserted it , he con tinued in a low voice , pointin g to the child . Then he went to the door ; but he stoppedand turn ed to me .

You would doubtless not care for our bread , master ?he said to me . And that’s all we have .

”

“ I am n ot hun ry .

j ust as you li e . I would indeed start up the samovarbut I have no tea . I will go and look after your horse .

He wen t out , slamming the door after him . AgainI began to examin e the in terior of the isba ; it seemedsadder than before. That acrid odor that is peculiar toplaces where smoke stays for an y length of time choked

BIROUK. 3 3

me . The l ittle girl stood motionless with downcast eyes ;on ly from time to time she pushed the cradle , timidly pulling up her frock on her Shoulder ; her bare legs hung downat the side of the stool .What is your name ? I asked her.

hOulita , she said , bending down her thin face sti ll far

t er.The forester came back and sat down on the bench .

The storm is quietin g down ," he said to me after an in

stan t’

s silen ce . “ If you wish , I wi ll Show you the way out

of the woods .I arose . Birouk took up his g un and began to examin e

the lock .

Why do you take it ?” I asked him .

There is mischief going on in the woods yonder. Someo ne is cutting down a tree in the Mare ’s ravine . ”

How can you hear it from hereNot from here , but in the yard .

We wen t out together. The rain had entirely ceased . Ath ick curtain of clouds stretched across the horizon , butabove us the heavens were dark blue , and stars here andthere twinkled through the rain- clouds that were flying by .

One could already distinguish the form of the trees that thewind had just struck with such fury . We listen ed . Thefo rester took off his hat and bent down his head .

There , there it is , he said to me sudden ly, stretch ing outhis hand . They have chosen a fine night for their workI l istened in vain . I could only make out the rustling of

the leaves . Birouk took my horse out of the shed .

“ If we do not hurry ,” he said to me , “ I shall miss them .

I will go with you. A re you will ingAll right ,

” he said , taking back the horse . We shallsoon take them then I will show you the way . Come !”

We started off. Birouk wen t ahead , and I followed closebehind him . I really cannot tell how he foun d his wayt hrough the trees and brushwood , but he walked alongrapidly without hesitation , and stopped n ow and then tol isten to the blows of the axe.

Listen l” he said between his teeth . Do you hear ? do

you hear now ?”

“ In which direction ?The forester shrugged his shoulders.

We entered the ravine. When we were out of the windI could hear the blows of the axe very distin ctly. Birouk

3 4 BI ROUK.

looked at me , and nodded his head . We continued our

way,walking through the fern s and the nettles . I heard a

loud prolong ed cracklinHe has cut it down l

'

muttered Birouk.

It was clearing off, and we could see about us in thewoods . We at last came to the end of the ravine.Wait for me here , said the forester in a low voice ; and

cocking his g un , he stooped down and disappeared throughthe bushes .I l istened attentively ; in spite of the howl ing of the win dI could make out the somewhat feeble sounds that arose ata l ittle d istance from the place where I stood . Some on e

was cutting the bran ches of a tree with an axe ; then Iheard the breathin of a horse and the harsh squeak fromthe wheels of a t eg a. Where are you going ? Stop !”

Birouk cried sudden ly in a thundering voice . These wordswere followed by a cry plain tive as a hare ’s . A struggle wasabout to take place . No ! no !” repeated Birouk breathlessly. Youwill n ot get away fromme.

” I rushed towardsthem , and after more than one stumble I came to theplace of the combat. The forester was stretched on theground at the foot of a fallen tree ; he held the strugglingrobber under h im , and was trying to bind his han ds witha belt . I rushed up to them . The peasant was in rag s ,andwet to the skin ; a long d ishevelled beard vs a mostsin ister look to his face . Birouk stood up , an forced hisprisoner to do the same . A gaunt horse, covered with arag ged mat , and a téléga were a few steps off in the thicket .The forester was silen t ; the peasan t was also silent, but wasshaking his head .

“Let him g o in peace , I whispered in Birouk’

s ear ; “ Iwill pay the price of the tree .

Birouk did not answer ; he seized the horse’s mane with

!is left hand (he had sl ipped his right through the thief ’slt) .Come , turn round , crow,

” he said roughly.

There ’s my little axe yonder ; take it, stammered thepeasan t .“ It must not be lost , of course , replied the forester, tak

in up the axe.

e started off. I walked behin d . AS we went along , afew drops of rain warned us that the storm was not over ;

I . In Russian varon a , a termof con tempt.

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3 6 BIROUK.

Let me g o , he cont inued to repeat with an accen t ofdespair. Let me g o ; in the n ame of God, let me g o ! I willpay

dyon , as there is a God . Yes , we are miserable. The

Chi] ren are crying at home ; you know that well . How can

one help it ? this l ife is so hardThat

’s a poor excuse ; that’

s n o reason why you shouldsteal .

”

“ If you ’ll only leave me my poor horse , said the peasan t ;at least leave me my horse . He is all I have . Don ’t takehim away from me .

”

It can’t be ; I have already told you so . I also have my

duties to do ; I must be severe with such as you .

Let me go. I am wretched , Foma Kousmitch ; I ammiserable , as true as I live !

”

I know you.

Let me g o , in heaven’s n ame !

Come , will you stop th is ? You know well I am notjoking. There

’s a seign eur there ; don’t you see him

The poor devil hung his head . Birouk beg an to yawnand to lean h is brow against the table . It was still rain ing.

I awaited impatiently the end of this sad scene .The peasan t sudden ly stood up ; h is eyes sparkled and the

color mounted to his livid cheeks . “Come ! here,” he cried ,

with his eyes half shut and his l ips quivering with hate ,“devour me , cursed assassin ! drin k the blood of a Christian ; drink itThe forester turn ed away.

I am speaking to you , continued the peasant ; “you,

Asiatic ,

- l drinker of blood , youHave you lost your mind said the forester. “ I bel ieve

rather you are drunk .

Drun k ? I have not become drunk at your expense , haveI cursed slayer of souls ! ferocious beas t !

”

I will teach you.

Don’t talk to me ! What do I care ? I am desperate.

What do on thin k will become of me without a horse ?Kill me ; had rather have it over at once than die ofhunger. Let us all perish at once —my wife , my children !As to you , never fear ; we shall meet you again .

Birouk arose.

“Strike ! strike me ! resumed the peasant with rage.

Strike ! Come , strike me , then

r. A common epithet in Russia , probably dating fromtheTartar invasion .

BI ROUK. 3 7

At these words the l ittle girl , who was lying down ,

started up .

Silence ! cried the forester in a thun dering voice , and hemade a step forward .

Come , let him go , Foma , I cried in my turn . He won ’ttrouble you.

“ I will not keep still resumed the unfortunate man withmore violence than ever.

“I might as well be knocked inthe head n ow as n ot . You are a slayer of souls , a ferociousbeast ! But wait ; you will not reign much longer. You willbe strung up by the neck , you may be sure of that !

hBirouk seized him by the shoulder. I ran to the peasant’s

e“pLet him alone , master ! the forester cried to me .

This in junction did n ot frighten me , and I had alreadystretched out my hands , when , to my cat astonishmen t,Birouk suddenly un tied the kouchack t at boun d the peasant’s arms , and seizing him by the neck he thrust his capover his eyes , opened the door, and pushed him out .

GO to the devil , you and your horse he cried out as hesaw him go away , “ and beware if I ever catch you ain .

”

As he said th is , the forester quietly went into is isba ,shut the door , and began to move something about in acorner.

Really , Birouk , I said to him , you astonished me. Youare a worthy man . As I regardCome , master, we won

’t speak of that , he answered impatiently . But don ’t go and talk about it . I will n ow showyou the way , for it doesn

’t look as if it would stop rain in gvery soon . Ah , there he is going off he added in a lowvoice , as he heard the noise that the wheels ofa télé a madeas it passed before the windows of the isba. Ah !

Hglf an hour after I took leave of himon the edg e of the

woo s.

3 8 MALINOVA .

CHAPTER IV .

MALINOVA .

IN Russia, at the beginning of August, the heat becomesalmost unbearable. A t this time of the year the most

hardy and patient man is obliged to give up the pleasures of shooting from noon un til three o’clock and themost intrepid dog begins , as the common saying is , tol ick h is master

’s Spurs , or, in other words, trots alongat h is heels , with his eyes hal f shut, with a languid lookand his tongue hang ing out ; the most peremptory ordershave n o effect on him; he wags his tail with a humble air,his features express the most complete submission , but nonethe less does he trot along quietly behind you.

It was precisel on such a day some years ago that I wasout shooting. or a long t ime I resisted the temptationto lie down under the shade of a tree , if on ly for a momen t .My dog continued , it is true , beating about the bushes with agreat deal of zeal , but probably with no hope of fin ding anything ; the heat was becoming more andmore stifling. I atlast decided to seek shelter from the sun , and dragged myself along ia the best way I could to the Ista , already kn ownto my indulgent readers . I descended the ban k and walkedalong , following the damp sandy shore , by the side of a sprinkn own in the country about un der the n ame of Mal in ova.

The waters of this spring, bursting out of the ban k , follow a

deep but narrow ravin e , and fall into the river at twenty stepsat the most from its source , forming a cascade the murmur ofwhich recalls the confused noise of a lively conversation . Oakbushes cover the sides of the ravine ; the grass about thespring is short and green ; while winding along at the bottomof the ravine , th is l ittle thread of cold , Si lve water is almostalways sheltered from the rays of the sun . came up to theSpring ; a ladle of birch - bark had been left on the grass bysome peasant for those who should come there , l ike himself , to quench their thirst . I made use of it ; then , stretching myself in the shade , I began to look about me. ’ Near a

MALINoVA . 3 9

point of the river where the fall in question forms a circleof waves perpetually coming and goin were seated two oldmen their backs were turn ed tome. ne of t hem was largeand robust ; he wore a plush hat, and his kaftan was almostn ew. He was fishing. The other was small andwretchedlooking ; he wore a patched surtout of mouknoiar ,

‘and every

moment or so passed his hand over his izzly head as if tokeep off the rays of the sun , for he ha no head - covering.

He held on his kn ees a pot full of worms . I was n ot long inrecogniz ing him : hewas a man named Stépouchka, from the

villag e of Choumikin a. Before going farther I will give tothe

o

reader all the information that I had gathered about thiscurious person .

The V i llage of Choumikin a is rather large ; at one end ofthe main street that runs through it stan ds a l ittle stonechurch , dedicated to Sain t Coma and Saint Damier. O posite this church was a vast seign orial establishmen t , with 1 itsdependencies , offices, work- shops, stables , coach - houses andsheds, baths , kitchens , lod

’

ngs for passing g uests and stewards , orangeries , see- saws or the peasants , and a few otherobjects of the same kin d more or less useful . Everythingwas g oing along there as one would wish , when , one finemorn ing, this magnificent seignorial place was entirely destroyed by fire . The masters of the place wen t off to anotherhome , and this spot , once so l ively, soon became a desert , orvery nearly so . Now one no longer saw anything but avegetable- garden , in the middle of which stood here andthere heaps of bricks , remains of the former foundations.Not far from this some beams , rescued from the fire, weremade use of to build hastily a l ittle isba that was coveredwith boards that had been bought ten years before for theroof of a Gothic summer- house that had never been finished ; andthis modest retreat was used as a house by a g ardener named Mitrophane, his wife Aksin ia , and their sevenchildren . Itwas Mitrophane

’

s duty to furnish vegetables forthe table of his lord , who l ived on an estate at a hundredand fift verstes away. Aksin ia had been given the care ofa Tyro can cow that had just been sent from Moscow atgreat expen se , and which , as she was farrow, had n ever givena drop of milk ; and a drake , a fine bird adorned with a topknot and maroon- colored , the only represen tat ive of theseignorial poultry - yard . As to Mitrophane

’

s children , on

1 . V ery cheap coarsecloth.

40 MALINOVA .

account of their youth no duty was r uired of them ; butthey were already confirmed idlers . had several t imesstopped at this g ardener

’

s and bought cucumbers of him, asI passed by , wh ich were of an enormous size , even in midsummer, and were especially distinguished for their waterytaste and the thickness of their tough ellowish skin . Itwas during one of these visits that I saw tépouchka for thefirst time. Of the numbers of dvorovi that were at Choumikin a when the village was a seignorial residence , the on lyon es left were Mitrophan e and his family , and a very deaf o ldman , Guérasmin e, whom a soldier

’

s wife , l an unattractivecreature and bl ind in one eye , lodged out of charity in a corner of her isba. As to Stépouchka, you could not class himwith the dvorovi , n or even with human beings in en cral ;he was , as we shall see , a creature of a particular or er.Every man , whoever he may be , has a certa in position in

society ; there is n ot an individual in the world who , l ivin gamong other men , is not un ited to a common centre by sometie or other. Even the dvorovi are in this con dition ; theyreceive fromtheir lord a salary or an allowan ce of food moreor less suflicien t for their wants . Stépouchka was an except ion to the rule : no kind of assistance was given him ; he hadn o kn owled e of any relatives , and no one gave him athou ht.

’

Ighis strange individual had not even a past ,

and ad probably never figured in a revision .

’ Repo rt ranthat on ce he had been a valet of some person or other ; butnothing was known as to where he came from , how hehappen ed to be among the serfs of the estate of Choumikina ,

by what circumstances he had become the possessor of thekaftan ofmoukhoiar that he had worn from time immemorial , where he slept, or how he l ived . No one could answera single one of these question s , and, to tell the truth , not oneof the inhabitants of the place took any interest in them.

Uncle Trafine, who kn ew the genealogy of all the dvoroviup to the fourth generation in the ascend ing l ine , had on cebeen heard to say that Stépouchka had formerly had aparent in the country ; she was , as well as he could remember, a Turkish woman whom the late Brig ad ier A lexisRoman itch , lord ofthe v illag had been pleased to bring backin a convoy at the end of a campaign . Stépouchka was

r. Peasan t -women become free when their husban ds are made soldiers , butthey generally con tinue to live in the villag es where their families reside.

a. A periodical census of the population .

MALINoVA . 4 1

n ever admitted to the tables and casks that stood about onevery side on féte-days , when , according to the o ld custom

,

the whole household was treated to pas try and bran dy ; hedid n ot come like al l the rest to kiss his master’s hand , aftermakin g him a low how ; he was n ot allowed to toss off a

g lass of brandy at a draught to h is master and to his health ,in his presence . Sometimes on e of the assistan ts in passinghan ded him , out of pity, a piece of half- eaten cake this wasthe only windfall that fell to his share from the festivities.

They g ave him their good wishes, it is true , on Easter-day ;but he did n o t roll up the greasy sleeve of his coat , he didnot take out of his back pocket a red egg, he did not offer itbl inking, and in an awkward and nervous manner, to his

master’s daug hters or their respected mother. He passedthe summer in a l ittle shed behin d the hen - house , and inwinter he took refuge in the l ittle room leading to the bathwhen it was extremely cold he took shelter in a hay- loft.He was seen coming and going ; sometimes the servan tsgave him a blowwith the fist , but they n ever spoke to him ;

he n ever even , so far as I know , Open ed his mouth about hisbad treatmen t.A little time after the burn ing of the house and of thesei orial depen dencies this forsaken being went to seek an

asy um at the gardener Mitrophane’

s . Mitrophane let himalon e ; he did not hasten to show him the door, nor did heask him to stay. So it could not be said that Stépouchkal ived at the gardener’s he vegetated in the garden . Hewalked and moved without the sl ightest noise ; he alwayscovered his mouth while he coughed or sn eezed , and a kin dof anxiety was depicted on his countenan ce ; hewas always inmotion , and hurried silently from one corner to another l ikean ant ; but his perpetual comings and goings had but on eobject— food . Poor Ste uchka would very certa inly havedied of hunger if he had

x

fiot thus been con stan tly on thewatch for his subsistence . Not to kn ow when rising inthe mornin g whether ou will have an ything to cat byeven in is a sad lot . Stépouchka, however , was not veryparticu ar about what he had to eat : now he mig ht beseen seated under a hedge , devouring a radish or W itheredcabbage- stalks covered with dirt ; now he would be goingalong quite out of breath and carrying, God knows where , a

i . The baths consist , in the villages , of two rooms, one ofwhich serves asanan te-chamber.

42 MALINOVA .

bucket of water ; or else he might be surprised l i ht ing a

fire un der a kettle in to which he was throwi l it e piecesof a black substance that he brought mysterious y wrapped upin a fold of his coat ; at t imes , also , he would be heardstriking lig ht blows in h is corn er with a piece of wood ,drivin g n a i ls and fixing a board for bread . But, accordingto his habit , he went through these d ifferent occupationswithout saying a word, with a kin d of d istrust ; one had

hardly time to catch a g linlip

se of him before he was already hidden somewhere . e often disappeared for several days ; but no one , of course, noticed these absences .Then suddenly he came back to his usual haunts , and hewould be discovered some fine morn ing near a hedge puttingsticks of wood under a kettle. He had th in features , l ittleyellowish eyes , hair that came down over his brow, a sharpn ose , enormous transparen t ears ; his heardwas never caredfor, but it never grew be ond a certa in length . Such is theportrait of the in dividu whom I had just seen on the ban ksof the Ista, in company with an other oldman .

I approached the two fishers , and wishing them ood- day ,sat down beside them . I kn ew all about Stépouch a

’s coman ion also ; he was a freed serf who had belonged to Coun teter I litch his name was Mikall Savélitch , but theyhad given him the name of Toumane.

‘ He l ived with abourgeois ofBolkhoff, the proprietor ofan inn where I oftenput up.

Youn g government clerks and other people who travel forpleasure (merchants buried among their cushions have otherthings in their head) may have noticed on the hig hwa ofOrel , at a l ittle distan ce from the borough of Troftsz, alarge two - storied house , en t irely deserted , with its rooffallen in and its windows boarded up ; it is almost on the

highway itself. There was n othin g sadder than this ruin inbroad daylight. Count Peter I litch, a rich lord of the

old school , celebrated for his hos itality and his ma n ifi

cen ce , had once lived there. A l the roprietors o theg overnment were once wont to assembe under h is roof,dan cing and giving themselves up to every kind of merrymaking , to the deafening n oise of a domestic orchestra, and

to the light of rockets and Roman candles more than o neold woman , wh ile actually passing this deserted house , musthave given a sigh as she recalled the pleasures of her youth

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44 MALINOVA .

Toumane smiled and shook his head .

“Yes , indeed , hesaid , “ there are those who love dogs and those who don ’tknow what to do with them . I , in my simplicity , thinkdogs should be kept chiefly for looks . But then everything should be on the same scale : you should have goodhorses , good grooms , and all the rest. The Count— Godbe with him — was not , to tell the truth , a great sportsman ,

but nevertheless he kept a pack , and was pleased to followthem two or three times a year. Then huntsmen used toassemble in the courtyard, in red laced coats , and begin towind the horn ; his lordship deigned to appear, and a horsewas brought to him ; when he had moun ted , the first hun tsman would put his feet into the st irrups, then taking off hishatwould put the en ds of the rein s in it andhan d them to hislordship. That don e , his lordship was pleased to cluck , so ,with his tongue ; the hun tsmen immediatel pushed aheadwith a shout , and off they started . On e 0 the huntsmennever left the Coun t ; he held with a si lken leash two of hisfavorite do and he took good care of them, I can assure you . his hun tsman was perched up on a very highCossack saddle ; he was a red - faced man , and he looked atyou with lar e eyes that he rolled about continually. Therewere also , 0 course , guests who followed the hun t. Theyenjoyed themselves , and everything passed off happily

, andthen Ah ! it has got away , the A siatic ! he added,drawing in his l ine .

They sa id the Coun t led a merry life. Is it so ? I‘

askedthe oldman .

“He was a man who l iked to cut a figure ; every one

knows that ,” answered Toumane , and Spitting on his hook ,

he threw it back into the river. The highest people ofPetersburg would visit him . The would sit down to histable covered with blue ribbons . Kb! but there was n o one

l ike him to do the honors of a house. He had a habit ofcall ing me up and saying, ‘Toumane, you must g et somel ive starlets for to morrow; give orders accordingly.

’

You shall be obeyed , your Excellency.

’

Embroideredkaftan s , perukes, canes, scents , eau de Colog ne of the firstqual ity, snuff- boxes, pictures twice your size—everyth ingcame direct from Paris . Did he give a banquet,— al lpowerful God , master of my life ! fireworks , driving andridin g- it was a procession ! Even can non were fired .

1 . A fishmuch thought of in Russia.

MALINOVA . 45

There was always in the house an orchestra of fort musician s. The precen tor was a foreign er ; but in the en he hecame too exacting : he wished to din e on ce and for all at hismaster’s table , but the Coun t would n ot hear of it. Mymusicians kn ow their busin ess an d can do without him .

Show him the door, and God be with him.

’

He was to beobeyed ; he was the master. Somet imes they dan ced ; itwould last till daybreak , and it was the ecessazsematraa

’

az'

re.

Hey ! hey ! hey ! there’s a bite , brother ! said the old man ,

cutting short his story , as he pulled out his line, on whichwas a mullet . “Here , Stepa ; and he g ave him the fish .

“He was the right kind of a master ,” he resumed , again

throwing in his l in e ; “then he had a good heart. Now andthen he beat us ; but he was n o soon er through with it thanhe forgot it. There was but on e fault to be found withhim : he had mattresses. Oh ! the ma ttresses. I n that way

-God forgive me — hewas ruined . He gen erally took themfromamong us . They should n ot have been too exacting.

Ah ! yes in deed ! On the contrary, they wanted the verybest to be foun d in all Europe. Perhaps you may say thathe was free to live as he l iked . Yes , doubtless a master doesas he thin ks best ; but he should n ot ruin himself. Therewas one especially who cost him dear ; her name wasAkoulina ; but— God rest her soul — she is dead n ow. Shewas a girl of the people ; her father was a décz

’

atsh " atSitofa ; but she was bad like the rest. One would thin k shehad bewitched the Count. She made a soldier of mynephew : he had spilled a cup of chocolate on her dress .And he was not the on] one who had cause to complain .

Ah , well ! in spite of t at, those were good old t imes .Here the oldman gave a deep sigh ; then he bowed his headand became si lent.Though we were in the shade , the heat was intense , and

one turn ed in vain in every direction for a breath of air.The atmosphere was perfectly still ; the sun shot out itsburning rays ; the heavens were clear, but of a deep blue .0 posite us , on the other side of the river, stretched a field0 oats , the tops of which , just be in ning to grow ellow,

were mixed in with a few tufts o?wormwood . ot thesl ightest movement could be seen . A l ittle lower down ,

a peasant’

s horse stood in the water up to its kn ees ,

r. A tithin g -man a tit le they g ive in villag es to peasan ts under the Stat osta

’s orders , and charg ed in particularwith the police, andworks in villages .

46 MALINGVA .

slowly swinging its wet tail from side to side . At the footof the reeds that crowned the river a large fish suddenlyappeared on the surface of the water , and after makin a fewbubbles wen t slowly back to the bottom, leaving be ind acircle of l ittle ripples that soon faded away. Crickets sangon all sides in the brown rass. The cry of the quail wasmore languid than usual . awks hovered majest ically abovethe corn- fields , and paused now and then , spreading out

their ta ils and flapping their wings . Overcome b the heat ,we sat without making the sl ightest movemen t . tcps weresuddenly heard behind us , by the side of the spring. Tumin g round , I saw a peasan t about fifty years old comingdown the ravin e ; he was covered with dust , in lapti ,

‘and

carrying over his shoulders his armiak and a wallet of bark .

He went up to the spring, eagerly quenched his thirst, andthen rose.

Hey ! V lass i” exclaimed Touman e , looking at him .

fGoo

P

d-day, brother ; where , in God’s n ame , did you come

romGood- day , Mikail Savélitch , answered the peasant , com

in g up to us . I came from a distance .

From where , then ?” Toumane asked him .

I have been to see my master at Moscow.

WhyI had a favor to ask him .

What was it ?I wen t to beg him to lower my rent , or to ut me at

work , or else to remove me to another estate . y son is

g lead ; ’it is impossible for me , n ow that I am alone , to get

on

our son is dead ?He is dead ,

” an swered the peasant . Therewas a pause .My dead son was a zoostel u

‘

k at Moscow, and it was he , Imust confess it, who paid my (zero/é.

You are now, then , at t’

abrokYes .Well , what did ourmaster an swer you ?My master ? e was very angry , and said to me, How

dare you present yourself before me without asking permission ? The steward looks after such thin gs . You shouldfirst ,

’ he said to me , speak to the steward . Andwhere do

r . Birch- bark shoes that the peasan ts wear, especially when travellin g .

a . A cab- driver.

MALINOVA . 47

you wish me to send you ? Begin ,

’ he said , bv paying whatyou owe me .

’

Well , so you came back ?Yes . Yet before coming away the idea occurred to me

to go and see whether my dead son had left an ythin g ; butI could bring nothing to light . When I wen t to his master’shouse , I said to him ,

‘I am Phi l ip ’s father. ’ Who willvouch for you ? ’ he answered . Besides

,

’ he said , ‘your sonleft nothing ; on the con trary , he owed me .

’

So I left .The peasant smiled as he said this . One might imagin ethat he was telling something with which he had nothing todo . But a l ittle tear shon e in his eye , and now and then hislips twitched .

And you are going home ?Where shou ld I go ? Certainly I amgoing home . My

wife must be ravenously hungry by this time .You ought— how then exclaimed Stépouchka sud

den ly . But he became con fused , and began to fumblesilen t in the pot that he had on his knees .

S al l you go and see the steward answered Toumane ,while looking at Stépouchka in won der.What good would it do ? I am behin d in my ren t ; my

son had been ill for a year before he died, and he could noteven pay his own abrok. Ah ! that didn ’t d isturb me ! Itwould be strange if he found anythin to take from me.

Ah ! I defy him ! As to guarantees , he added , laughing,“I haven ’t any for Kin t iciane Sémen itch ; he can rack hisbrain s as much as he wishes . V lass began to laugh morethan ever as he said this .

A ll that,brother V lass , said Touman e slowly , may turn

out badly for you .

”

What can happen ? Not But here the peasan t’svoice sudden ly died away . How hot it is he added ,wiping his brow with his coat - sleeve .

What is our master’s n ame ? I asked him .

Count alerian Pét rov itchPeter I litch’

s sonYes , answered Toumane . The late Peter I litch during

his l ife had given V lass the land that he lives on .

And how is he ?He is well , God be thanked , answered V lass .

his face is red, and he is very stout . He is very well .That’s right , father contin ued Touman e , “the abrak

would not betooheavy If the village were near Moscow.

48 MAL/NoVA .

A nd how much does the teg rlo pay ?Nin et - five roubles ,

” muttered V lass.

See t at ; and almost no land ! There only theseign eur

’s woods .They said that even those were sold .

See that ! Stepa, give me a worm . Come ! are you

aslechka gave a start.peasan t sat down bes ide us. We were silent. The

refrain of a song suddenly echoed out from the other sideof the river ; it breathed sadn ess and despondency. PoorV lass put his head into his hands and became pensive.Half an hour after we separated .

r. Tég lo represen ts a workman settled on a certain portion of land. Oftentwo peasan tsmake one of them.

DEA TH . 49

CHAPTER V .

DEATH .

I HAVE for a neighbor a young proprietor , a keen thoughsomewhat inexperienced sportsman . One fine morn ingin July I rode to his place and proposed to him to gogrouse- shooti

ng. He eagerly agreed to this , but on on e

condition . e will first go along," he said to me ,

“ in the

direction of the Zoucha ; in that way I can visit my woodsofTchaplig uin a, where they are now cutting

. I agreed tothis . He immediately had his horse saddle put on a reencoat with metal button s on which was stamped a boar’s ead ,took a richly embroidered game-b a silver powder- pouch ,andthrew over his shoulder a gun of renchmake , resplen dentin its newn ess . That done , he examined himself attentive!in the glass , and called his sporting- dog , Esperance , whican old- maid cousin , very richly endowed in po int of sentimen t , but somewhat bald , had just made him a presen t of.Soon after we started off for the Zoucha , accompan ied bythe déciatski Arkipe, a large peasant with a square face andprominen t cheek - bon es . A steward , a native of the Balt icProvin ces , who had but recently entered upon his duties ,join ed us . He was a light- haired young man of five- and

twen ty , extremely thin and pale , short - Si hted, with slopingshoulders and, as an offset , an immen se y long neck . H isname was Gottl ieb V an der Kock . I must add that myn eighbor had been in the en joymen t of his property for buta short time ; he had inherited it from one of his aun ts whowas remarkable durin g her l ife for her prodigious corpulen ce :she became so stout , in the latter part of her life , that shecould n o longer walk .

The little wood of the Zoucha was n ot far ofi ; we werethere in a very short time .

Wait for me here , said ArdalianeMikallov itch to our fellow- travellers . The German bowed , got offhis horse , sat downin the shade n ear a bush , and took a book from his pocket :it was, I believe, a romance of ?eamze Clzopen/zauer .

‘ As to

x. A writer ofGerman roman ce ; she excels in the sen timen tal kin d.

so DEA Ti l

the déciatski Arkipe, he stopped his steed in the glare of thesun , and did n ot dismount ; an hour after we found him inthe same place .

We beat carefully about without starting a single head ofme . This beginn ing was n ot very encouraging ; so A rdaiane M ikailov itch declared that he was going to stopshootin g. I did l ikewise, and reso lved to go with him in tothe woods that he proposed visiting. We went back to thefield where we had left our people . The German put backhis book in to his pocket after he had marked the page , andmoun ted , not without difficulty , the rest ive mare that he wasriding , who never failed to give a sharp n eigh and a l ittlekick when she was thwarted in the slightest way. Theenormous déciatski best irred himself, drew in his rein s ,began to shake his leg s , and finally rsuaded his wretchedsteed to start. We all four went 0 towards the woods inquestion .

I had been famil iar with this place from my childhood ,and had been there many t imes with my Fren ch tutor , M .

Désiré Fleury , a worthy man with whom I had but on e faultto find— that of having nearly ruined my stomach by ad

min istering Leroy 's medicin e . The woods of Tchaplig uinawere not very exten sive ; they con sisted of on ly two or threehundred trees of ash and oak , but these had attain ed a prodig ious size . A t a little distan ce from the groun d their blacktrunks stood out again st a background of clumps of hazels ,plan es , and mountain - ashes , the tran sparen t foliag e ofwhichwas scin t illatin gwith light ; hi hertheywere outl in ed proudlyupon the brillian t blue of the ieaven s , and at their tops theywere crowned by a diadem of green , above wh ich hovered ,iv in g forth the ir piercing cry , hawks , buzzards , and kestrels .n themidst of this foliag e echoed the loud song of the blackbird ; at every moment were heard the repeated blows of thestrange feathered woodpecker strikin again st the trunks ofthese gian ts ; lower down , in the bus es , twittered the warblers and the siskins ; fin ches ran ayly alon g the paths ;hares glided furtively out here and t ere between the yokeelms ; and after jumpin g from one tree to an other , a redsquirrel sat motion less With its ta il curled over its back . In

the midst of the grass , and often a few steps from an en ormous an t - hill , under the l ight shade of the finely cut fernleaves , bloomed violets and l il ies of the valley , with fungi ofevery kind all about them; at the edge of the clearings , n earthe thick bushes , grew strawberry- plan ts with their red fru it .

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52 DEA TH .

What exasperates you so ? asked my neighbor, laughing.

The young German explain ed to him, in an almost un intellig ible jargon , that it was the sight of these ma ificen t

t rees stretched on the ground that brought forth t ese exclamat ions. However sad it was , this sight did not affectthe déciatski A rkipe in the least : he azed at itwith perfectind ifferen ce , and seemed even muc ratified at havin gthese trun ks in the way ; you saw him g oing his utmost toforce h is unfortun ate horse to clear them , and he gave theml ittle blows of his whip as he passed . j ust as we came to theplace where they were cutting, a sharp crack was heard ; itwas immediately followed by cries and con fused murmurs .We started off in that direction , when a young peasan t withdistorted features and disordered clothes rushed out of thethicket at a few steps from us .

“What has happen ed A rdaliane Mikailovitch cried tohim ; where are you run n in to like that

Ah ! father Ardaliane ikailov itch , said the peasant ,stopping immediately as he heard his master

’

s voice , “whata misfortune !

”

“What is it ?Maxime has just been crushed by a tree.What ! the contractor ?”

Yes. father, the con tractor. We were just attacking an

oak with an axe, and he was lookin g at us do it. He stoodl ike that for uite a while ; then he wen t towards the well ;he seemed to e thirsty . The oak began suddenly to crackand bend over towards Maxime . Save yourself save yourself ! ’ we cried to him . But in stead of jumping to one side ,he began to run strai ht ahead . He had doubtless lost hishead . I n touching t e groun d the branches struck him .

But why the tree fell so soon , God knows ! it must havebeen hollow.

Was he killed by the blow ?No , father ; he is yet al ive . But he is as good as killed ;

his arms and legs are broken . I was run n ing to find Sélivestritch , the doctor.

”

Ardaliane Mikailov itch ordered the déciatski to g o asquickly as he could to the villag e , and to bri ng back Sélivestritch. He himself set off at a gallop in the direction ofthe cutting. I followed him. We found poor Maximestretched on the groun d ; a dozen peasan ts surrounded him .

We dismounted . The woun ded man was n ot complaining ;he opened his eyes from time to time , looked about him

DEA TH. 53

with an air of astonishment , and now and then a sl ighttwitching passed over h is blue l ips . From the irreg ularmovements of his chest you could see that he breathed withdifficulty ; h is hair was matted on h is brow and his chintrembled : he was dying. A young lin den- tree lightlyshaded his face . We bent over him ; he recognized Ardaliane Mikal lovitch.

“Father, he said to him with an effort , “send for thepriest. The Lord— has pun ished me. My legs and arms arebroken— I am broken in pieces . To - day is Sunday—and Ihave—I have made my men work all the same . He wassilent ; he could scarcely breathe .

“Send , he cont inued ,“send— the mon ey that is due me— to my wif& after youhave id— Més ime, there , he will tell you— what I owe .

e have sen t for t he doctor, my poor Maxime , myn eighbor said to him . Perhaps you will n o t die .At these words , the wounded man , who had closed hiseyes , raised his eyelids with an effort , looked at Ardalian e

Mikailovitch tenderly, and answered him N0— 1 am goingto die . There it is— it approaches— there, there . Forgiveme, children— if I haveGod will forgive you , Maxime Mikaflov itch , repl ied the

peasants with one voice , and they un covered the ir heads .We ask your forgiveness . ”

The dying man moved his head convuls ively ; he puth is chest forward as if making an effort to rise , and againsank back .

“He must not die there , said Ardaliane Mikallov itch ;“bring the mat that is in the téléga , put him on it , and takehimto the hospital . Some of the wood- cutters ran to thecart .“Yesterda murmured the dying man ,

“ I bought— at

éfime— o f itchoov— a horse . I g ave him earn est- mon ey.

li

e horse is then— mine . You must— the horse— to mywxe .The placed him on the mat ; he trembled all over like awoun ed bird , and grew st iff. He is dead , said thepeasan ts in a low voice. We silently remoun ted our horsesand went back to the field .

The scen e that I had just witnessed made me think of themann er in which the people die in Russia. You could n ottax them with indifferen ce at this supreme momen t ; no ,

they seem to look death in the face as a duty to be accomplished, and that is why they meet it with a calm and equa

54 DEA TH .

ble temper. Some years ag o a peasan t of the neighborhoodwas surprised by the flames in a dryin - room for corn wherehe was working. Probably he would ave perished but fora bourgeois who was passin g n ear there , and who ran to hishelp . Having broken through the door by a shove of hisshoulders , he plunged into a tub ofwater, then rushed to thebottom of the drying- room . I went to see h im . The placewheie he lay was dark , and was suffocating from heat and

smo e.“Where is the sufferer ? I asked as I came in .

Here he is , father, over the stove ,” sadly answered a

an t seated in a corn er, and holding his head betweenhis hands as a sign of grief.I went up to the peasan t . He was covered with a touloupe,

andwas breath ing with difl‘iculty .

How do you feel I asked him .

The woun ded man moved ; thoug h covered with woundsand dying, he wanted to rise to receive me.

Lie down ! Be quiet ! How do you feel ?V ery badly, as is natural .

”

You suffer a great deal P” He was silen t . Do you wantnyg

hin g P”

He did not an swer. “Shall I send you sometea“ It would be useless.

I left him and sat down on the bench . A quarter, ahalf- hour passed in this way. The silence of the tombreigned in the isba. A l ittle girl of about five crouchedin a corner, under the images . She was eating a piece ofbread , and her mother threaten ed her from time to time withher finger. In the outer room there was heard the sound ofwalking, talking . and heavy pounding . The peasant ’s sisterln - law was cutting up cabbages for the winter

’s provisions.

A rina,” cried the patien t.

What do you want P”

Give me some M ass .

The peasant brought him some , and a profoun d silenceagain came over the room .

Has he received commun ion ? I asked the peasant in alow voice .

Yes,” she an swered .

Everything was ready ; he awaited on ly death . I left theisba , n ot being able to bear the sad sight.

1 . A popular drink. I t ismade of fermen ted barley .

DEA TH. 55

Another day I chanced to go to the house ofa man namedKapitone, who held the position of surgeon to the village hospital of Krasno g erié, and with whom I had often been outshoot ing. The dedication of this hospital , which was established in one of the win 5 of the seignorial house , was madein the following way : T e chatelain e had had in scribed inwhite characters above the door, “The Hospital of Krasnogerie . Th is ceremony gone through with , she sent toKapitonea very fin e album destined for the registry of the sick. Thefirst leaf of this prec ious reg ister was adornedwith Frenchverses composed for the occasion by one of the parasites whowere about this lady. The poet expressed himself in thisway:

In these fair haun ts where Mirth andJo now reig n ,Beaut on ce deigned to con secrate this e ;Your ords are allan t gen t lemen , I trow ,

Good folks of rasn og erié ; is’t not so ?

”

Another ofl'icious person hadwritten undern eath,

And I too ama lover of nature !“JEAN Kosvu s

'rnaxorr.

”

The surgeon Kapitone had been obl iged to buy six bedsat h is own expen se , and he had gon e to work trusting inProvidence . The officials of the establishmen t consisted ofan old engraver affected with a men tal trouble , and an o ld

woman withwithered han ds , named M ilikitrisia ; the latter fulfilled the dut ies of cook. These two person ages were chargedwith the drying and steeping of the medicin al plants and

preparing drugs . They were also en join ed to restrain thepatien ts who had a burn ing fever. The engraverwas gloomyand taciturn ; he had a habit of asking every one who cameto the hospital for authority to marry the girl Melania , andsomet imes he sang in the n ight a love- song. The o ld cookbeat him and made him watch the turkeys .While wewere speaking of the last time we were out shoot

in g , a téléga drove in to the ard . It was driven by a peasant ,whose n ew armiak showe off his broad shoulders , and itwas drawn by an en ormous horse such as mi llers usuallyown .

“Ah ! V as il i Dmitritch , Kapito ne cried out to him fromthe window, welcome . It is the mi ller of Lionboucha,

” hesaid to me in a low voice.The peasant groaned slightly as he g ot ofi the téléga came,

56 DEA TH .

into the room where we were , gazed at the images , andcrossed himself.Well V asil i Dmit ritch , what news is there ? But you are

not looking well ; are you ill ?

be

“Yes , Kapitone -Timofei'

ev itch , I am not as well as I might

What’s the matter with you ?This is what happen ed to me, Kapitone Timofeiev itch .

Having bought a ston e for my mill some time 0 in town ,

I brought it to the house . When taking it out o the télégaI think I must have strained myself. I felt in my loin s as ifsomething was torn and since that I have n ot been as wellas usual . To- day I am even worse .

“Humph !” said Kapitone, taking a pinch of snuff. “ Itis a rupture. And is it long since it happened“Yes , ten da s ag o .

Ten days !’ replied the surgeon , shaking his head anddrawin g in his breath with a thoughtful air. Let me examme you .

When the examinat ion was over , Well , V as il i Dmitritch ,

he said ,

“ I pity you sincerely ; your con dition is n o t of thebest. Stay here. I will do everything I can to pull youthrough , but will an swer for n othing.

”

“ Is it really as bad as all that ? stammered the miller ,quite stu efied by this revelation .

“Yes , as i l i Dmitritch, it is very bad . If you had onlycome to me two days sooner, I could have cured you in atrice ; but now inflammation has set in . That’s the worst ofit mort ificat ion is but a matter of time .

“ It is not possible , Kapiton e Timofeiev itch !I tell you it is only too true.How can it beThe surgeon did n ot answer ; he simply shrugged hisshoulders .To die for such a trifle !I do not say that you will die from it, but I advise you to

stay here .

The peasant beg an to reflect. For a few moments he kepthis eyes on the floor , then he looked at us ; at last , afterthus meditating in silen ce , he scratched his neck and tookup his hat .Where are you going, V asil i Dmitritch ?Where am I going ? Home , of course , since I am so ill .

If it is so bad as al l that , I must put my affairs in order.”

DEA TH . 57

You will repent it , V asil i Dmitritch , I tell you . I don’teven understand how you could have come as far as this .

Stay , then ,— comeNo, brother Kapitone Timofefevit ch ; since I must die ,

as well die at home . God kn ows what will take placethen .

”

“ It is impossible to know how the thing will turn out,

V asil i Dmitritch. The case is doubtless very bad , I agreeBut it is

'

ust for that reason that you should stay here .

No , apitoneTimofeiev itch, answered the miller , shakin gP

his head ; “ I cannot stay ; but you will prescribe formeThat will do no good.

I cannot stay, I tell you .

aftWell , do as you l ike , — but don

’t reproach me for it hereer. ”

The surgeon tore one of the leaves out of his note- book,wrote a prescription , and explained to the patient how heshould apply it. The miller took the paper, gave a fiftykopek piece to the surgeon , left the room , and got into histélé a .

!Vell , farewell , Kapitone Timofelev itch, he cried out tohim . Don ’t be angry with me , and remember my orphansif by chanceCome , stay then , Vas i liThe peasant simply shook his head , struck his horse with

the end of the rein , and made for the village highway. I

went out on the road and looked after him . The road wasmuddy and full of ruts. The miller drove prudently , skilfully avoiding the bad laces , and nodded to every one hemet . Three days after learned that he was dead .

The Russian faces death , I repeat , in a very pecul iarman ner. Many examples of this kind occur to me . I havenot forgotten you, my worthy friend Avenir Sorokooumoffyou , the best of men I can sti ll see your consumptive face ,withered and pallid , your light hair, your modest smile , yourenthusiast ic gaze , your emaciated limbs ; I can hear our

ing voice ! Leaving the University wit out

finishing your studies there , you went to l ive , I remember,with a certain Gour Kroupian ikoff, a very respectable Russian seign eur, who was pleased to entrust to you the task ofteach ing Russ ian g rammar, eo g raphy and history to histwo son s, Fefa and Luzu . ou bore with an an elic pat ience the coarse jokes of Kroupian ikofi , as we! as the

58 DEA TH .

boorish civil ities of his steward , and the fool ish t ricks ofthe two scamps your pupils ; and if at times a bitter smilewas to be seen on your l i

ps when you were obliged to fulfil

the capricious demands 0 their mother, this tyran ny wouldnever elicit the least murmur from you. A lso with whatineffable happiness d id you enjoy an instant

's rest , in theevening , after supper , when , freed at last from your duty andall anxiety, you went and sat n ear the window and began tosmoke , lost in reflection , or eagerly running through thegreasy torn leaves of some periodical that had been leftthere by a government surveyor. a poor devil condemnedl ike yourself to lead a roving l ife. What sweet emotion syou felt when you read a piece of poetry or an interestingnovel ! Tears immediately glistened in your eyes , a sweetsmile appeared on your l ips ; you felt penetrated with an

ardent love for humanity, and a love of the beautiful and of

the right took possess ion of your soul , ingenuous as that ofa child . You were not at all remarkable , it is true, for yourqualities of mind . and you even passed at the Un iversity fora very ordinary person during lessons you generally gaveyourself up to the delights of sleep , and you shone especially by your majestic silence at examination . But whowas dist inguished among us all by the joy felt at a comrade’ssuccess ? It was Avenir. Who had a blind confidence inh is friends ’ merits , praised up their talents , and took uptheir defence with the greatest zeal ? Still you . To whomwere envy and selfishn ess perfect strangers ? You again .

And you thought yourself inferior to men who were n ot

worthy to loosen the latchet of your shoe.When you took leave ofyour friends , you were deep! af

fected ; you were troubled with sad presentiments. heywere well founded in the world into which you were to goyou were not to find a single being to whom you could l isten ,or whom you could admi re and love . The polished sei g n eursand the country squires behaved towards you as they didtowards all persons of your profession : some were coarse ,others even showed a kin d of contempt. Your appearan ce , Iadmit , did not prepossess one in your favor : you blushed onevery occasion , became confused and stammered in answerin gthe most insignificant question . We had hoped that thecoun try would build upyour failing health ; but no , you werevisibly growing weaker. O my poor friend Yet your roomlooked out on the garden ; in the spring, the cherry- trees , theapple- trees , and the l indens that encircled the house shook

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60 DEA TH .

cough with an effort, he began to recite the followingstrophe :

Tellme are the falcon 's win g s

Clipped or boundWho chased himfrom the haun ts and sprin g s

He circled roun d 1”

I interrupted him ; the doctor had ex ressly forbiddenhim to talk . I kn ew how to make im pass a few

agreeable momen ts . Though he had never kept up withthe scien tific and intellectual movement of the time, Sorokooumoff took pleasure in kn owing what was going on .

He on ce took o n e of his comrades aside and asked himwhat the great minds of the ag e were doing ; he listenedatten tively , believed it all , and repeated word for word whathe had learn ed . He took an especial interest in Germanphilosophy. I then began to talk to him of Hegel (it wasa long time ag o , as you see) . Avenir smiled and nodded hisapprobation .

“ I understan d , I understand . Ah , it is beautiful ! it is beautiful The childish curiosity of this poordying and lon ely man moved me, I con fess , to tears .Unlike most con sumpt ives , he did n ot refer to his condition ; and he was n o t at all despondent , and even madeno allusion to the fate that awaited him . Mustering all hisstrengt h , he began to speak of Moscow , of the frien ds thathe had left there, of Pouchkine, of the theatre , of Russianl iterature ; he Spoke of our l ittle merry- makings of o ld, theardent discussion s in which we eng aged at that time , andspoke tenderly of dead frien ds that we had in common .

“ Do you remember Dacha ?” he said to me at leng th ;there was a heart of gold ! what a n ature , and how she

loved me ! What has become of her ? She is doubtlessmuch changed , poor thing !

”

A nd I was careful to keepfrom him any sad n ews : andwhy should I tell him, in deed ,that his Dacha was now roun d as a ball ; that she lived withsome merchan ts , the brothers Kondatchkoff that she wascovered with pain t , and that she cried and disputed frommorn ing till n ight ?“Might there n ot be a way , I thought to myself, “ oftak ing him away from here ? Perhaps he might yet recover. ”

I began to tell h im my views on this subject , but he wouldn ot let me finish .

No, brother,” he said to me , “ I than k you. No matter

where one dies. I shall n ot g o before winter. What good

DEA TH . 6 1

to disturb every one for n othing ? I amaccustomed to thehouse . It is true that this fami lyThey are probably heartless people , I said to him .

No , he an swered , they are n ot bad ; they are in cl inedto be blockheads . But really I have n othing to complain of.As to the n eighbors— o ne of the proprietors of the canton ,Kasatkine, has a daughter, a well - in formed , sweet , excellen tcreature , and n ot proud A fit of coughing would not lethim finish .

“ I would n ot mind all that, he contin ued,

after a short pause , “ if the would allow me to smoke .

But I will n ot die like this ; shall smoke a pipe , watch meas much as they like A nd here he win ked siyl Than kGod , I have l ived long enough ; I have kn own honest menin my l ife and“You should at least , I said , interrupting him ,

“write toyour family .

What’s the use ? They cannot help me . When I amdead , the will kn ow it. Why speak to them about it in advan ce ? ther than thin k of that , tell me what you saw

abroad .

I d id my best to g ratify him ; he l istened to me with inexhaustible in terest . I left the same even ing , and ten daysafter I received from Kroupian ikoff the following letter :

I have the honor of announcing to you by the presentletter, my dear sir, that your friend , the studen t AvenirSorokooumoff, who l ived with me , died four days ag o , at twoo ’clock in the afternoon , and that he was buried esterday ,at my expen se , in the cemetery of my church . n accordance with his desire , I send you the man uscripts and booksthat you will find en closed . He possessed twen ty- tworoubles and a half , which , as well as all h is effects , wi ll besent by my care to the person s of his fami ly , who have aright to this heritage . Your frien d died fully con scious ; Imayeven say that he died with a kind of indifference , withoutbeing in the least affected, even when I and my family badehim farewell . My wife , Cleopatra A lexandrovn a , presentsher compliments to you. The death of your friend has

naturally un settled our n erves ; I myself amvery well , thankGod , and I have the honor of being

“Your very humble servant ,G. KROUPIANIKOFF.

great many recollections of the same kind occur to me ;but what I have told you must be suflicien t . However, I

62 DEA TH .

will add the following. An old maiden lady died in myresence some years ago . The priest who attended herad begun to recite the prayers for the dying, but thinkingthat the inval id was about to die , he hasten ed to ive herthe crucifix to kiss . The worthy lady fell back wit a dissat isfied air. You are too soon , my little father,

”

she saidto him , her speech already growing thick ; “you still havetime . Then she devoutly kissed the crucifix , ashed herhand under her pillow , and gave up the ghost . hen theyburied her, they foun d a rouble under her illow ; she hadtaken precautions in advance , and propose herself to paythe priest who came to attend her in her last moments.Yes , the Russians die in a truly strange manner.

zooVE.53

CHAPTER V I .

LGOVE.

ET us g o to Lg ove, said Jermola! to me on e day ,Jermolai I have already introduced to the reader,

we will kill as man y ducks as you like .

”

Though the wild duck has little value in the eyes of thetrue sportsman , I accepted for want of a better the proposalmade by Jermolai

’

. We were at the beginning of September ; the woodcock had n ot yet appeared , and I cared verylittle for roaming through the fields for a few partridge . Sowe started off for Lg ove.

Lg ove is one of the large villages of the Steppe ;1 it boasts

of an old stone church with a single dome’ and two mills onthe Rossota, a little river that runs at a short distan ce fromthe hi hway through great swamps. A t about five verstesfrom !gove there is quite a large pond , ful l of reeds .

Among the scattered islets that they form in the ve middle of the pond an infinite number of wild ducks 0 everykind l ive and breed at will . They are to be seen hovering about in little flocks , and at the first shot they rise upin such clouds that the most phleg matic sportsman in voluntarily puts his hand to his hat and exclaims , Fou - ou Webegan by skirting along the shore ; but the duck is en dowedwith too great an amount of pruden ce to ever ven ture sonear the land , and even when a stray or careless ducklingcame within gunshot of us , and fell a victim to its in experien ce, our dogs , in spite of the zeal and merit for whichthey were remarkable , tried in vain to retrieve it at the edgeof the pon d ; they san k in to the mud and momen tarily rana risk of hurting their precious n oses again st the slender

r. A part ofSouthern Russia , very flat and very fert ile.

a. The typical formof the Russian churches is a building with four domes ofthe same size

fwith a cen tral dome hig her. The form is Orien tal , et some

examples are ound in theWest , and amon g others at Perig ueux, w ere thecathedral church is built upon this plan .

64 VE.

stems of the reeds that crossed each other in every direction .

No , said Jermolai ,“we can do noth ing in th is way ; we

must find a boat . Let us g o back to the V i llage.Scarcely were we on the Lg ove road when a miserablelooking setter suddenly bounded out of a clump of willows ; he was followed by a man arrayed in a threadbareblue coat , a yellowish waistcoat , and grayish trousers thelower part of which were tucked carelessly into the leg s ofa pair of boots that were worn down at the heels . Hewas asportsman ; he carried a single- barrelled g un slung acrosshis shoulders . I n accordan ce with the usage that is commo n to all the in dividuals of their kind , our dogs immediately began to sn iff, with a ceremony worthy of the in habitants of the Celestial Empire , at the n ew specimen of thecan ine race that was so sudden ly presented to them . Thenew- comer did n ot ap ear at ease ; he had his tail betweenhis legs , his ears bac and he turned rapidly roun d and

round , sn apping. When the person that be preceded ap

proached us , he saluted us with great politeness. He appeared to be about five- and - twen ty ; his long, l ight hair ,stiff with kvass , ‘hung in straggl in g rigid locks , and his face ,l ighted up by a pleasmg smile , had a blacksilk handkerchiefbound about it, such as people wear who are suffering fromtoothache .Let me introduce myself to ou he said in a sweet

,

in sinuat in g voice ; “my n ame is ladimir, and I am one ofthe hun ters of the coun try . Having learn ed of your arrival ,and knowing that you were goin g toward our pond , I decided to come and offer you my services, if they are ag reec

able to you .

The obliging hunter delivered this l ittle 5 eech in the

tone of a prominent actor assuming the part 0 a first lover.I accepted the offer of h is services , and at the end of a fewminutes ’ conversation I had learn ed his whole history. Hewas an enfranchised dvorovi ; after he had learn ed music inhis ch ildhood , he had been a valet ; he could read andwrite , an d, as far as I could find out , he had read a few badnovels . Like a great n umber of people of his description ,

in our dear country , he now had n o profession and waswithout a sou in the world ; the means of l iving at his dis

hr. The dvorovi and peasan tsmake use of this drink to plaster down theirair.

VE. 65

posal could n ot have been more precarious if he had beencondemned to exist o n celestial man n a . Yet he was a

fine talker, and eviden tly made great pretension s to goodbreeding, which would lead o ne to suppose that he soughtthe favor of the fair sex , and that the list of his love- conquests was very long, inasmuch as Russian girls are veryfond as is well kn own , of en couraging eloquen ce . Whilecon tin uing his con versation with me about on e thing and another, he took care to have me understan d that he was t eceived at the house of the proprietors of the neighborhood

,

and played the game of preferen ce‘ in some town - houses ;

he even in sinuated very adroitly that h is circle of acquaintauces contain ed many inhabitan ts of the capital . I n oticedthat he had at h is disposal a great variety of smiles ; thatwhich played over his l ips when he l isten ed to some storyhad an expression of modesty and reserve that became himwonderfully well . A lthough he rarely took the l iberty of

contradict ing the person with whom he was talking, hekn ew very well how to give the impress ion that this silen tapprobat ion was in no way caused b an utter want of kn owin g how to begin , and that if need e he had an opinion ofhis own as much as any one else . j ermolai , who had n o ideaof g oodnn an ners , thoug ht he could be familiar with h im ; inan swering him, V ladimir affected , on the con trary , an extreme

pol iteness , which a man less polished than Jermolal wouldave fathomed at once.Why do you have your face don e up in a handkerchief ?

I asked him “ have you the too thache ?No, he said ; “ it is in con sequence of an accident ,

the result of which was very sad for me. I had a friend , avery worthy man , but not a sportsman , such as one oftensees . My dear frien d ,

’ he said to me one fine day , ‘pleasetake me shoot ing with you ; my curiosity is excited , and Ihave a keen desire to kn ow what this exercise is . I couldnot, of course , refuse m friend ’s request ; I found a gun forhim , and we started 0 together. A fter roaming throughthe fields for some hours , we thought we would take a l ittlerest. I sat down un der a tree , and he began to practise drilling, and while loading in twelve t imes , he took aim at me.

I begged him not to do so , but as he had had n o experiencehe paid n o attent ion to what I said . The gun went off, andI lost part of my chin and the forefinger ofmy right hand .

1 . A g ame of cards in vog ue throughout Russia.

66 VE .

We came to Lg ove. V ladimir and Jermolai decided thata boat was ind ispen sable . “Soutchok has a flat - boat , saidV lad imir, but I don

’t know where it is . We must g o and

ask him .

”

Ofwhom are you speaking ? I asked .

A man of the coun try who is so called , replied V ladimir ;and he set out with ermolai to look for him .

I told him that would wait for him near the church ,and started off in that d irection . In examining the tombsin the churchyard , my eyes rested on a broken columnblacken ed from t ime , and which had on o ne side the fo llowing inscription in Fren ch : “Ci - g it Theophile Henri ,Comte de Blangy; on another side , en raved in Russian ,Under this ston e rests the body of oun t de Blangy , aFrench subject , born in 173 7, died in 1799, at the age of62 ; o n a third , “Peace be to his ashes . The fourth sidewas devoted to a distich that recalled in pompous termsthat the Coun t de Blang y , after being d riven from his

coun try by tyrants , had devoted himself successfully in Russia to the education of the youn g.

I was aroused from the med itation into which the sightof this tomb had plunged me by the arrival of j ermolai

’ andV ladimir, accom an ied by the personage that bore the n ameofSoutchok . e was a man of at least sixty, and he lookedl ike a retired dvorovi ; he was barefooted , and every partof his costume gave sign of the deepest misery.“You have a boat I asked .

Yes , I have a boat , he an swered in a dull , broken voice ,but it is not good for anything.

How so ?It is all warped , and the oakum in the holes has fallen

A great misfortun e in deed ! replied Jermolai ;“they can

be stopped up .

“Doubtless , said Soutchok.

But who are you ?”

I am the seign orial fisherman .

How is it that your boat is n ot in condition ?Because there are no fish in the river.Fish don ’t like swamp- water, added j ermolaf with a

knowing air.Well , then , I said to Jermolaf,

“g o andget some oakum

and put the boat in order. Be as quick as you can .

”

Jermolai went away .

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68 VE.

your beard.

‘l Whenever I come here , it shall be your careto furnish the seignorial table with fish ; you un derstan d me.

’

That’s how I became a fisherman .

‘And then ,’ added the

mistress , ‘don ’t fail to keep up the ond .

’ I should l iken othing better ; but what

’s to be doneTo whom did you belon

gbefore that ?

To Serguei Serg ueitch ektereff, a proprietor. He inherited us ; but he did n ot keep us long— ten years in all .It was with him I served as a coachman , but only in thecountry ; in town he had others .

And you have been a coachman from childhood ?Oh n o . I becamea coachman underSerguei Serg ueitch.

Before that I was a cook , but always in the country , and notin town .

When then were you made a cookWhen we belonged to our master Athanase Néféditch ,

Serguei Se eitch’

s un cle . It was he who bought Lg ove,and who le t it as a heritage to Serg uei Serg uei tch, hisnephew .

From whom did Athanase Néféditch buy you ?From Tat iana V assiliev n a .

Who is this Tatiana Vassiliev na ?She who died a maid last year, near Bolkhoff— I mean

near Kharkoff ; she was never married . You have not thehonor of knowing her ? She received us from V assil iKousmitch, her father, and owned us not such a short t imeafter all— a score of years .

And you were cook in her house ?Yes , at first ; then I was éafee/zenok.

What occupation is that ?”

“ In faith I know nothing about it in self, my father. Iwas employed in the pan try , and was cal ed A n tone insteadof Kousma . The mistress was pleased so to order.Then our true name is KousmaYes , ousma.

”

And you kept that occupation al l the time that youbelonged to this mistressNo , I was also an actor.Is it possible

r. The dvorovi are generally shaven , even when they are no lon g er attachedto a sei g neur; the Great Russian peasan t is , on the con trary ,

very proud ofhis beard and is careful about cuttin g it . Though dvorow , coachmen alsowear a heard.

a. Probably fromtheGerman Kaf ced'

cftel lkt fl(to pour out coffee) .

zooVE.69

Oh yes , real! Our mistress had fitted up a theatre.What rbles (fid you assume ?”What did you say , if ou please ?What did you do at t e theatreThen you don

’t know that ? They t ook me and mademe put on fine clothes ; and then I walked about or else Isomet imes stood , sometimes sat down , as it happened . Thetold me. You must say this ,

’ and I repeated it . Oncetook the part ofa blind man ; yes , really, they put little peasunder my eyel ids to make me keep themdown .

What did you do thenThen I was sen t back to the kitchen .

Why were you so degraded ?Because my brother ran away .

What did ou do under TatianaV assilievna’

s father ?I had di ercut employmen ts . At first I was a petz

'

t

Kosak,‘then a postil ion , arden er, and huntsman .

”

“Hun tsman ? really ! ou looked after the dog s ?Yes , I had the care of the dogs . But one day I was

n early killed by falling from my horse , and hurt my mounta little . Our old master, who was very severe , had me beaten ,

and apprenticed to a shoemaker in town .

How appren t iced ? As you were a huntsman , you couldn o longer have been a child .

"

Yes , I must have been at least twenty .

At that ag e you can no longer learn a trade .We must believe so , as the mast er so ordered. But

fortunately he died soon after I went away, and I was sentback to the coun try .

“,When then did ou learn to be a cook ?At this uest ion utchok raised his l ittle withered face .Must t at be learn ed he said with a smile ; “ in the

v il l e the women are all good cooks .”

ell , my poor Kousma, you have gone through cruelth ings in your life . But what can you do as a fisherman , as

there are no fish in the river“ I don ’t complain , my father. I thank God for beinmade a fisherman by my mistress . An old man l ike myselAndrew Poupir, was sen t to the vats of a paper- mill .

‘Itwas a sin

,

’ m mistress said to him , to eat her bread withoutworking .

’

nd yet Poupir rel ied on favor. His nephew,

1 . The se‘

curs formerly had a customof dressin g some of their little domesticeas osaka.

70 L6 0VE.

who was employed in the village office,1 had promised to

recommen d him to the kindness of his mistress . He recommended him in a pretty way ! Yet Poupir threw himself athis nephew’s feet in my presen ce .

Have you children ? A re you married ?No , father, I have n ever been married . Tatiana Vassi l i

evna— God have pity on her soul — would not let us marry .

May Heaven preserve me she used to exclaim when theyasked her permission , ‘I have n o t married myself. Whatideas you have ! What are you thinking of ?“How do you live n ow ? Doubtless you have wages ?Wages , father ? Oh n o ; they make me an allowan ce of

provision s , n othing more . But thank Heaven for it . Yes ,I am well sat isfied . May God give my mistress a long lifeJermolai s arrival put an end to our conversation . Theboat is ready ,

” he said abruptly

. Go and look for apole

,he added , addressing the o d man , who hastened to

obeWi

t

hile I was talking with Soutchok , V ladimir gazed at himwith an air of pity . He is a fool , he said to me as soon ashe had gone away , a man en tirely un pol ished , a peasan t ;nothing more . You can ’t even call hima dvorovi . A ll thathe has just told you is a pack of boast ings . He an actor ?Come , now ! what do you thin k of it ? Really , all that is n ot

Korthy of the kindness that you have shown in l istening to

im.

We gave our dogs to the coachman Jég oudile, who shutthem up in an isba, and took our places in the boat. Wewere n ot very comfortable but when out shooting one shouldn ot be too particular . Soutchok took his place at the sternof the boat so as to push it ; V ladimir and I were seated on

a plan k in the middle ; Jermolai was in the bow. Hardlywas the boat unmoored when our feet were soaking in thewater ; the oakum with which Jermolai had stopped upthe holes was eviden tly in sufficient. But the weather wasmag n ificen t , the surface of the pon d perfectly smooth , andwe pushed boldly out . The old fisherman was not wron g ;every time that he took his long pole out , the green ish fibreson it showed that the bottom of the pond was covered withwater- plan ts the large roun d leaves of the water - l ily kept usback . A t last we reached the islets which were the objectof our expedition , and the sport began . Clouds of ducks,

1 . See note on pag e 75.

LOOVE . 71

startled oy our abrupt appearance in their domains, rosen oisily up . Shots re- echoed almost incessantly , and it was apleasure to see the fleeing den izen s of these parts sudden lypause in their fl ight , turn a somersault in the air, and fallback in to the water with a splash . It was impossible forus to fish out all the ducks that we killed ; some sl ight!woun ded immediately plunged to the bottom of the ponand in this way escaped us ; others that were killed at thefirst shot were hidden away among the reeds , where evenJermolal

’

s piercing eye could not detect them . Howeverthat may be , our booty was more than enough ; even in gour boat was full of ducks to the gunwale . To ermolai

’

s

great satisfact ion , it was found that V ladimir was far frombeing a good shot ; but every time that he missed he appeared very much surprised , examin ed his g un , blew into thebarrel , and ended in showing us the reason of his awkwardn ess . As to ermola

'

i'

, he gave proof, as he always did , ofwonderful skil and I , as usual , shot rather badly. Soutchokgazed at us with the impas sibility of a man who had passedall h is l ife in the service of a seign eur. However, he sometimes cried out ,

“There , there , an other little duck !” and

when making this exclamation he rubbed his back by movinhis shoulder-blades.

l The weather was superb ; roundewhite clouds hovered slowly above us and were reflected inthe water ; in passing, our boat struck against the n arrowstalks of the reeds among which we were steering, andfarther on the surface of the pon d gl istened l ike a steel plate.We decided to stop shooting and go back to the shore ; buta most unforeseen event arose to prevent the execution ofthis plan .

As we had noticed for some time that the water was risinhigher and hig her in the boat , V ladimir was entrusted witthe task of bai l ing it out by the help of a ladle that my headhunter had very Opportunely taken from a peasant who wasattending to something else . Everything went well for sometime ; V ladimir did not n eglect the important taskwith whichwe had entrusted him . But as we were about to st0p shooting, as if they intended to bid us good -by , the ducks rose uin such great numbers that on e had scarcely time to relI n the excitement of the momen t , we neglected to watch oursystem ofnavigation . This forgetfulnesswas nearly fatal . In

trying to get possession of a wounded duck that was on the

x. Thismovemen t is peculiar to theRussian peasantry .

72 £60VE.

point of escaping , Jermolai leaned all h is weight on theedge of the boat , which bent over, filled with water ,and san k majestically to the bottom . We gave a cry of

fright, and a few secon ds after we were plunged in to thewater up to our necks , and in the very middle of the ducksthat we had had so much trouble to take . I can not helplaughing yet when I recall the pallid faces ofmy compan ion sin misfortun e (probably I myself was n ot dist inguished atthat moment by the carnation color of my cheeks) . Butwhen the acciden t happen ed , I admit that n o t for an instan thad I a thought of joking on our situation . Each of usraised his g un above his head , and Soutchok , from the habithe had of imitating all his masters , also held his pole out ofthe water.The first of us who broke silence was Jermolai . Tfou !curse it he muttered , spittin g‘ into the water ; what aducking ! It is you , you o ld devil , who are the cause of

this !” he added angrily, addressing Soutchok ;“what kind

of a boat do you own

Forgive me , I am to blame , muttered Soutchok with acon trite air.

A nd you , you devil , resumed Jermo la'

i'

, turn ing toV ladimir, what were you thin king about ? Why didn 't youbail out the water ? It was you , youBut V ladimir had no desire to answer back ; he trembled

l ike a leaf ; his teeth chattered , and he had the look and

smi le of an idiot. What had become of his eloquent spirit ,his respect for the proprieties , and his feel ing of dign ity ?The cursed boat rocked incessan tly un der our feet ; atthe momen t we upset , the water seemed as cold as ice, butwe soon became accustomed to it . When I had somewhatrecovered from my chill , I looked about me : at about tensteps from us , reeds rose up o n all sides ; in the distance ,above this circuit of green , the shore d imly appeared . Thesituation was critical , I thought . “What is to be done ?I said to Jermolai .That ’s what we must think about, he an swered ; “ it

will not do to pass the n ight here . Here , take my gun , youthere , he said - to V ladimir , who , without a word , immediatel obe ed this imperious comman d .

“ I wi ll go and lookfor a ord ,

’ he con tin ued in a con fiden t tone , and as if n ecessarily there must be a ford somewhere in the pon d .

r. A habit that all the Russian s of the lower classes have it is a sig n of rageor con tempt .

VE . 73

Takin the pole that Soutchok was holding, he wadedtoward t e shore, cautiously sounding the water about him.

Can you swim I said to him.

No, he cried , as he disappeared beh ind the reeds .Then he will be drown ed , remarked Soutchok coldly.The poor devil , who even at the t ime of the accident had

n o other fear but that of having incurred our an ger , completely reassured in this respect , had resumed his usual impassibil ity , and only betrayed h is presence by the blowingthat he indulged in from time to time.Your hun ter is exposing himself to no purpose , V ladimir

said to me a few moments after.For about a quarter of an hour Jermola! an swered very

reg ularly our frequent calls ; then his res rises becamerarer and rarer , and at las t ceased entirely. espers soundedin the village ; we were silen t , and, for fear of betra

yin our

feelings. we even avoided lookin g at each other. W i d ucks

constantly passed above our heads ; some seemed incl inedto alight n ear us, but as soon as they saw us they flew preci itately in to the air, giving out a hoarse , mourn ful cry.

e b an to feel benumbed ; it was more than an hoursince

eI

jgermo lai

'

had left us ; Soutchok blinked , as if on the

po int of fall in g asleep . A t last , as we were about losing allOpe of seeing him reappear, Jermolai returned .

Well , what have you found out I asked h im .

I have been to the shore , he answered ; “ I have founda ford. Come .

”

We immediately prepared to start . ButJermolal could notresign himself to losing the fruit of our shoot ing ; he took acord from his pocket , and tied all the ducks that were floatin g about us by the feet ; then , taking the end of the cordbetween his teeth , he gave the sign al to start . V lad imirfollowed him, and then I ; Soutchok brought up the rear.The distance that we had to go to reach the edge of thepond was at least aquarter of a verste ; ermolal wen t forward resolutely and W ithout the slightest esitat ion ; he hadfixed in his min d the sl ightest bends of the way he was tofollow . He cried out to us from time to t ime , “More to

the left ; there is a hole , or, Keep to the right ; you willsink in the mud in the left . Sometimes the water came toour eyes , and poor Soutchok , who was the shortest of thefour, ran great risks . He lost his footing, struggled , swallowed water, and blew out bubbles . “Come ! come !”

j ermolai immediately cried to him roughly ; and by dint of

74 moVE.

ddlin g , standing on the tips of his toes , and skipping,outchok finally reached a place not quite so deep ; but evenin the most critical momen ts he n ever forgot himself, Imust acknowledge it , so far as to seize me by the skirt of mcoat . We at last reached the ban k ; we were , as was natural:wet to the skin , covered with mud , and t ired out— in aword,

in the most pitiable state .

Two hours after we were seated in a barn on the ha thed isorder of our toilet was remedied as well as possibe , andwe sat down to supper with a fin e appetite. The coachmanJég oudile, a man desperately slow and an incorrigible arguer ,stood near the door, where he was treating himself gen erously to the old fisherman

’

s snuff (I have already remarkedthat in Russia coachmen become acquainted very quickly) .Soutchok was taking sn uff with a kind of frenzy ; he wasse ized with a gidd in ess ; he spat , he coughed so that he losth is breath but the un doubted leasure that he felt compensated , as it seemed , for all t e in conven ien ces . V ladimirwas melan choly ; he held his head on one side and spokebut l ittle . Jermo lai was cleanin g our gun s . The dogs werewag gin g their tails with more and more activity at the sightof the porridge that was being prepared for them ; our

horses n eighed impatien tly and were kicking the floor of thenext barn . The sun was settin g, and its last rays were t ingin g the horizon with red ; the little gilded clouds that covered a part of the sky were more or less like waves orfreshly combed fleece . In the village they were singin at

the t0ps of their voices, and now and then a joyous re raincame to our ears.

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76 THE OFFI CE.

Yes he said to me , scratching his sunburnt neck .

Ah ! well , you— there is— you have on ly to take he con

tinn ed , gesticulating at random there is— when you are

Opposite the wood , — when you are there , — you will find a

road : but don ’t take that road ; always keep to the right ,always to the right , always to the right ,— and then you willcome to A nanieva .

”

I had a great deal of trouble to follow his words ; the oldman expressed himself with difficulty , and the long mustaches that fell over his mouth almost entirely stifled histrembl ing voice .

And you, where are you from ? I asked him.

HowWhere are you from ?I ? From Ananieva .

And what do you do there?HowWhat do you do ?I am a watchman .

What are you en trusted to watch ?I watch this field of peas .

”

“ In deed ! I said to him with a smile that it was impossible for me to repress ; but how old are you

God only knows . ”

Your sight must be weak ?How ?You must have ve weak sight ?Oh yes sometimes don ’t hear at all .How can you watch this field then ?That is the elders ’ business.

Elders ! I thou ht .I stayed for a ew moments to gaze at the old man , and

the sight of him in spired me with profoun d pity. Fumblingfor a piece of dry bread that was between his shirt and hispeasan t’s jacket , he began to suck it as a child would havedon e , and his cheeks , already hollow and wrinkled , becamestill more so . I left him, andwen t in the direction of thel ittle wood that he had pointed out to me , and when Ireached it I kept to the right , always to the right , as he hadrecommen ded me to do . I thus came to a larg e village , inthe midst of wh ich was a church built in the n ew stylethat is to say , with column s ; a l ittle farther on was theseign orial house , the fron t of which was l ikewise decoratedwith a row of column s . Before going in to the villag e I had

THE OFFI CE. 77

n oticed , through the blu ish veil with which the fine rain ,

that still fell , covered all the objects that I could see in thedistan ce , an isba higher than the Others and topped with aboard roof, at the end Ofwhich arose two chimn eys . I tookthis house to be the Starosta’s ; and in the hope of fin din g asamovar, sugar and tea , I turned my steps in that direction ,

with m dog, who was shivering all over. Mounting thesteps , crossed the vestibule and opened the door ; butin stead of finding myself , as I expected , in the midst Of thefurn iture and household utensils that adorn a peasan t ’shouse , I saw several tables covered with apers , two cupboards pain ted red , in kstan ds covered wit ink , tin sandboxes that must have weighed apoud,

‘pens of an immen selen gth , etc . A youn g man Of about twen ty , at the most , wasseated at on e of the tables ; his complexion was pale and hisskin greasy ; his eyes could scarcely be seen , and long locksof hair hung down his cheeks . The collar and the fron t Ofthe gray n an keen kaftan that he wore were covered withthe usual spots .What do you want ? he said to me , raising his head l ike

a horse who has been unexpectedly seized by the nose.

Does the steward l ive here ? or elseThis is the seignorial office , said the youn g man , inter

rupt in g me . I am in attendan ce . You have n ot then readthe inscription that is above the door ? Yet it is plainenOi

égh .

”

ould I not dry myself ? There doubtless must be asamovar in the village ?”

Certain ly , an swered the youn man in the gray kaftanin a tone Of importance . GO to ather Timofei ’s , or else tothe isba of the seigneur

’

s servants , or to Nasar Tarasitchi’

s ,

gr to A g rafena

’

s, the woman who looks after the henouse“With whom are you talkin g like that , fool ? You keepme from sleeping, you simpleton cried some one in thenext room .

A gentleman has just come in andwants to dry himself.Who is the gen tlemanI don ’t know . He has a g un and a dog.

The creaking of a bed was heard in the room from whichthe speaker’s voice came . The door Open ed and a man Ofabout fifty appeared . He was short , but rather stout , and

s. A weig ht equivalen t to about fifteen kilog rammes .

78 THE OFFI CE.

his appearance denoted uncommon strength ; g o g le- e es ,fat cheeks , and a crimson complexion

gave to is ace

an expression of prosperity perfectly in eepin g with hiswalk and fi re .

What 0 you wish ? he asked me“To dry yourself ?

This is n ot the proper place for that.“ I had no idea I was entering a counting- house. Butyet I am ready to pay what

You might be allowed , i f it is absolutely necessary.

Here , will you please come this way ? And he took me in tothe n ext room , n ot the one in which he was when I arrived .

Will this do he said to me.

V ery well ; but is there n o way Of having tea and

cream“Oh yes ; they shall be brou ht to you . In the mean

while take Off your coat and l ie own it will not be long.

”

To whom does this vill e belongTo Madame Losn iakoff, lena Niko laievn a.

He left the room, and I began to examin e the place whereI was . An en ormous leather sofa was placed along the wallthat separated me from the coun ting- house ; two chairs ,l ikewise covered with leather, and the backs of which wereprod igiously high , stood up majest ically on both sides Ofthe on ly win dow Of the room which overlooked the street.The walls , covered with a green paper with pink designs,were adorn ed with three en ormous oil - pain tings . One ofthem represen ted a s orting—dog wearin g a blue collar withthese words : Voz

‘

l ma con sola tion . At the dog’s feet

ran a river , on the opposite ban k ofwhich , un der a pine, sata hare, with his ears up and a phenomenal tail . In theother picture were represen ted two o ld men eating a watermelon beyond , in the distan ce , stood a Greek temple , on theort ico of which was the in script ion , Temple a

’

u oz'

ert -e'

tre.

inally , the third picture represented a woman lying downand foreshortened ; this pleas ing person had an en ormousthroat , red kn ees , and large feet— features that are much appreciated, as you know , amon g the Russian s. My do g hadfinally introduced himself , with great effort , under the sofa ,and, to judge by the sneez ing to which he g ave vent for afew minutes , it is probable that his retreat was amply filledwith dust . I wen t to the window. Plan ks were thrownacross the street and were stretched from the coun tinghouse to the seign orial house. This precaut ion was n ot useless , for, than ks to the quality of t he land , and to the rain s , a

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80 THE OFFI CE.

A ltogether I think there must be one hundred andfifty .

”

DO you write well ? I asked him after an in stant ’ssilence.The youn g man smiled with a fool ish air, shook his head ,passed in to the next room , and came back with a leaf ofwritten paper.“There ’s my handwriting , he said to me , con tinuing tosmile .

I cast my eyes over this paper ; it conta in ed the followingin large characters , but in rather a good handwriting :

ORDER .

Ttie principal domestic ofi ee o tlze estate 0 AHarrier/a to

tileBurg omaster ika il Vikoulo

No . 209.

You are enjoined to immediately find out , as soon as youreceive th is , who passed last n ight , in a state of drunkennessand in singing improper songs , in the English Garden , andwho woke u and disturbed the governess , Madame Enj em

‘

,

the French ady ; what the watchmen‘were doing, andwhoat that t ime was on watch in the garden , and who allowedsuch disorder. You are ordered to make the n ecessary inquiries as to what is herein suggested, and to communicatethem immediately to the office .

The Head of the Office ,NIKOLA I KVOSTOFF.

This order bore an enormous seal with a coat- Oi- arms ,above which were these words : “The seal of the prin cipaloffice of the estate of A i

'

ian ieva ; and beneath To beexecuted without delay. ELENA LOSNIAKOFF.

Did your mistress herself sign that ? I asked .

Certainly ; she always con descends to sign . Otherwisethe order would be valueless

p

You are now going to send this order to the Burg omaster .

He is coming himself to read it , or rather it will be'

readto him ; for he can neither read n or write . ” Having saidthis , the clerk was again silen t .This is not badly written ?” he soon resumed.

It is very well written .

”

1 . During the n ight the peasan ts watch by turn s about the seignorial dependencies.

THE OFFI CE . 8 1

It was n ot I , I must say , who made this order. NO ; itis Koskin t ine

’

s busin ess , and he is very good at suchthin g s.

How ? you make draughts , then , for papers of this kindCertainly ; it could n o t be done in an y other way.

What are your wagesI get thirty- five roubles‘ a year , and five roubles for a

pair of boots .

”

A nd are you satisfied ?Certain ly I am . It is n ot every one who is in a counting

house . As to me , I must say I have been favored ; myun cle was butler.“You are then satisfied with your condition ?Oh yes ! To tell you the truth , however, he continued

with a sigh , merchan ts’ clerks are luckier than we. They

are much better Off with the merchan ts . Not later thanyesterday a merchan t of Vénéfwas here ; I talked with hisclerk. They are well off ; yes , they are very wel l off.

The merchants then pay their clerks better ?”

God help us ! A merchant would drive out of doorsa clerk who would presume to ask him for a salary. Youmust live with them without such preten sion s as that. Theydress you, feed you , provide you with everything ; when youplease them, they reward you so well that the ve best salaries are nothing in comparison . A question 0 salary indeed that’s not busin ess . The merchan t l ives simply , in theRussian fashion , l ike all of us ; while travelling , when hetakes tea he also treats you to some ; you eat what he eats .A merchan t— ah ! he is n ot— a merchan t is n ot l ike a master. A merchan t is not capricious : he happen s to be anhe beats you , and all is said . He does n ot scold ; he oesnot turn you into derision . The master makes your l ifehard . He is never satisfied ; he growls on every occasion ,

and you can ’t please him . You bring him a glass of water, ora dish of some sort . Ah !

’ he cries , th is water smells bad.

Ah ! what you have given me is bad !’ You take it away and

bring it back an in stan t after . That’s right ,’ he says , that

’

s

good ; that does n o t smell had n ow.

’ But mistresses are

worse . A nd the masters ’ daughters— ah ! there is n othingin the world

Fédiouchka !” cried the stout man in the office. The

clerk in atten dan ce hastened to an swer his call . I fin ished

x . The sumis equivalen t to about seven dollars Ofourmoney .

82 THE OFFI CE.

drinking my glass of tea, stretched myself out on the sofa,

and fell asleep .

I slept for nearly two hours . When I awoke, I at firstthought I would et up. I was seized with a lazy fit. Istayed as I was an again closed my eyes , but it was impossible for me to fall asleep ain . They were talking in a lowvoice on the other side O the wal l , in the office ; in voluntaril I l istened to the conversation .

es , really ; yes , really , said one of the speakers . Yes ,Nikolai Eréméitch , that

’

s true . It would n ot do , in deed , n otto carry that on account . Yes , that

’s right. Humph A nd

here he who was 5 caking began to coughBelieve me, avrila An ton itch , answered the stout

man ,

“ I know how far one can go here ; have confidencein me .

Who should kn ow better than you , Nikolai Erémeitchreplied the speaker. “Here , o ne might say , you are themost importan t personage . Well , what shall we say ? Howshall we conclude the busin ess ? A llow me to show a l ittlecuriosity in regard to this .

How shall we end it, Gavrila An ton itch ? It somewhatdepen ds upon you. But you don

’t seem to be much interested in it .Come , n ow, Nikolai Erémeitch ; how can you say that ?

We merchants , when it is a question of buy ing or sellin weare always ready. You will n ever find us backward or atrade .

”

“Eight roubles, said the stout man gravely.

These words were followed by a sigh . Nikolai Eréméitch answered the merchan t , that is a great deal ,reall

lilo . Gavrila A n ton itch I can't do anything else ; I swear

to

you before God that it is impossible .he two Speakers were silen t. I ot up without makin g

any n oise , and looked through one o the cracks of the part ition at what was going on in the Office . The stout manhad his back to me ; he was seated opposite a merchan t whowas still in the prime o f l ife , but excessively thin , with apallid complexion . His fingers were buried in his beard, hewin ked in cessantly , and from the way in which his l ipstwitched one would have thought that he was always on thepoin t of speaking.

“The harvest will probably be very good , he said atlength . Everywhere I have been the corn is magn ificent

,

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84 THE OFFI CE.

Come , say n o more about it, Nikolai Eréméitch ; overthere it is six and a half.It’s a bar ain ,— six and a half.Good ! ive us your han d , Nikolai Erémeitch.

The merchant struck the stout man ’s han d with his fivefingers spread apart. And than ks be to God he added

,

rising. So , father Nikolai Eréméitch,

” he said to him soonafter this , “ I am going yon der to an noun ce it to the mistress , and I shall tell her we have ag reed , Nikolai Eréméitch ,

and that we have struck a bargain for six roubles and ahalf.Don ’t neglect to do so , Gavrila An ton itch.

Now , please take this .”

The merchan tdgave

to the clerk a l ittle packag e ofpapers ; then bowe to him, raised his head , took his hatbetween his two fin ers , shrugged his shoulders , g ave awavy motion to his w ole body , and left the room makinghis boots creak , which with men of this class is, as o ne

kn ows , very good style .When he had gone , Nikolai Erémeitch approached thewall

, and I kn ew by his gestures that he was coun ting thenotes that the merchan t had just given him. But at thatmoment a head of red hair with an en ormous pair ofwhiskers appeared at the door.“Well , what is it it asked .

“Is everything all right ?Everything is all right.

”

How much ?The stout man shook his hand impatiently and pointed tothe room where I was .

Ah, well , replied the head , and it d isappeared .

The clerk sat down at the table , opened a register , took anabacus‘ and began to move the beads not making use ofhis forefin er, but of his middle one : this was more correct .The cler in attendan ce en tered .

What do you wishGidor has come fromGalaplek.

Ah , well ; tell him to come in . Wait ! wait ! first g oand see whether the strange master is awake .

The clerk came cautiously in to my room . But I had hadtime to put my head on the game- bag that I used as a pillow

,

and to close my eyes .He is asleep , he said , shutting the door ag ain .

1 . A frame the in terior ofwhich is filled with beads of ivory or bone strun gon brass wires. The Russians andOrien tals use themto coun t with.

THE OFFI CE. 85

The stout clerk began to mutter.“Come, he resumed , cal l Cidor.

I again took up my position of observation .

The casan t who came into the room could n ot have beenmore t an thirty ; he was a robust man , of gig an tic height,with very red cheeks , chestn ut hair, and a curly beard . Hecrossed himself before the images , saluted the head of theoflice, took his cap in both han ds , and drew himself up to

his full height .Good - day, Cidor, the clerk said to him , still moving the

beads of the abacus .Good- day , Nikolai Erémeitch .

Well , then ! how are the roads ?Good , Nikolai Eréméitch , an swered the peasant slowly

and in a low tone ; not very muddy.

Is your wife wellShe is not very well .The peasant sighed and came forward a step.

The clerk put his pen behin d his ear and blew his nose.

What have you come here for ?” said the clerk , puttinghis handkerchief into his pocket .Well , you see , Nikolai Eréméitch, they ask us for

carpenters . ”

Well , what of it ? Haven ’t you any ?Why shouldn

’t we have them, Nikolai Erémeitch ? Thevillage is in the middle Of the woods , every one knows. Butharvest- t ime is approaching.

“Yes , that’s true . You ask n othing better than to work

for others ; but when it is a question of working for yourii

l

i

l

istress, that’s a different thing. Why , it is all the same

t inThe work is the same , it is true, Nikolai Erémeitch ; but

whenWell , whatThe pay is hardly— I will say

“ Indeed ? They n ever have en on h ! Come , go !And what is more , Nikolai Er me

‘

itch , there is n ot a

week ’s work , and the men are kept for an en tire month .

Now materials are wanted n ow you are sent into the gardento clean the walks a little .

Well , since your mistress is pleased to order it, it mustbe obeyed without remark .

The peasant was silent and stood still for some minutes ,rest ing now on one foot , now on the other. The clerk

86 THE OFFI CE.

bowed his head and began to count the beads of the abacuswith more rapid ity than ever.

Our— peasants , Nikolai Eréméitch , at last resumedGidor, hesitating ; you will please , then— there are herethere areWhile speaking he drew from his pocket a packet done

up in a n apkin with a fringe and red designs on it .Come , what are you doing ? are you mad ? said the

stout clerk hastil Go away ; 0 to my isba, he con

t inued , rudely pus ing the amaze asant in the directionof the door. “Ask for my wife . S e will give you tea . Iwill come immediately ; go away. Don

’

t be afraid , I say ,but go away .

The peasant left the office.What a bear he is added the stout clerk with an

an ry air ; then he shook his head and beg an to count.udden ly cries re- echoed in the yard and On the porch .

Kronpian e ! Kronpiane they cried , “who will knock him

down ? ’

A few minutes after there came in to the office ashort, strange- looking man . H is complexion was pall id , hislook fixed , and his nose very long , and he was full of assurance . His costume was very simple : an old win e - coloredcoat in which he was wrapped up was adorn ed with a cottonvelvet collar, and the button s were scarcely perceptible . He

had a load of wood on his back. About him ressed five Orsix dvorovi who were crying at the top 0 their voices ,Kronpia ! Kron ia will hold out ! He has just been appointed fireman fireman l" But the man in the winecolored coat was in no way discon certed by these noisy manifestation s ; he did not pay the least attent ion to them.

Advancing with regular steps to the stove. he threw downthe bundle that he carried , stood up again , took a snuff- boxout of his pocket , opened his eyes wide, and began to fill hisn ose with bad Russian snuffmixed with ashes .A t the momen t that the procession by which the new- comerwas followed had come into the room , the stout clerk startedup frowning ; but as soon as he learned the cause of this hubbub he smiled and sim ly recommended silence , in orderthat they should n ot wa e , he said , a hun ter who was sleeping in the n ext room .

Who is the hunter ? several of the crowd asked at - Once .

A seigneur,— ah

r. A servan t o

of the lowest de rec , especially en trusted with firin g up thestoves in the seigneur's house or ts outbuildin g s.

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88 THE OFFI CE.

robably a valet, Kronpiane Afanacitch must sing us hislittle son g. Come , sin it for us , Kronpiane Afan aci tch !Yes ! yes cried al the others . Ah ! A lexan der , that

’

s

the thing . Begin ! Come, sin g , Kronpia . Bravo ! A lexandra .

’

Sin thenhis is n ot the place to sin

ganswered Kronpian e

firml we are in the seign orial 0 cc.

hat difieren ce does that make to you, as you seem to

be aimin at a clerk ’s place Konstantine answered roughlythat ’s t e tru th l”

dEveryt hing depends on the mistress, answered the poor

evil .See that ! He has no higher aim than that ! Upon my

word ! Ah ! ah ! ahThese noisy exclamations continued for some min utes ;

several of the audience jumped and gambolled about thefireman . On e of the most aggravating was a young man offifteen or sixteen , probably a son of some aristocrat amongthe flunkies ; he was dist in guished among them by a waistcoat with brass button s , and a light blue scarf ; his l ittlestomach was already begin n ing to be round“Listen to me , Kro npiane, said , with an important air ,Nikolai Eréméitch , whom this scen e had made cheerful . Itis a sad occupation , that of fireman Admit it : there is n owork that is not preferable to that .“ It is possible , Nikolai Eréméitch, an swered Kronpian e.

But you are n ow our head of the office . You have alsobeen in disgrace ; you have lived like any on e else in apeasant

’s isba.

“Be careful of what you say, the stout clerk qu icklyanswered . You don ’t un derstand a joke , fool ; you shouldtake kindly to those who trouble themselves with an idiotl ike you .

It sl ipped out , Nikolai Erémeitch. Forgive meLearn to hold your tongue .

But here the door again Open ed , and a l ittle Kosak cameinto the office . The mistress is asking for you,

” he said tothe head clerk .

Who is with her ? he asked .

A lcin ia Mikit ichna and a merchan t Of Vénéf.I will g o to her immediately. And you, brothers. he

i . The dvoroy i often give, as in this case, a femin ine termination tomen ’

snames ; they think i t very piquan t .

THE OFFI CE. 89

added hastily , addressing the dvorovi , you hadbetter leavehere , with the new fireman . If , by chance , the German‘

should come in while pass ing by , he would bring a complaintagainst you .

The stout clerk arranged his hair, coughed behind hishan d , which was almost entirely covered by his sleeve.and , after buttoning his coat, went to his mistress . Kronpian e and his crowd followed him. My Old acquaintan ce ,the clerk in attendance , was the only one left in the office ;he began to men d the pen s , and final! fell asleep. Profit

ing by this happy circumstance , some ies came and walkedover his mouth ; a gn at alighted on his brow , and, symmetrical ly spreading its long legs , slowl buried its longst ing in the flabby flesh of its victim. he red head thathad already shown itself at the door of the Offi ce reappearedag ain , gave a look in to the room , and en tered followed by therest of an in dividual who was n ot much favored by nature.

Fediouchka I say , Fediouchka ! He is always sleeping !said this new personage .

The clerk in atten dan ce opened his eyes and g ot up.

Is Nikolai Eréméitch with the mistressYes . V assil i Niko laitch.

Ah ah I said to myself, this is the chief cashier.This higher clerk beg a n to walk up and down , or rather towander into all the corners of the room , for he was l ike a cat .An Old black coat with long, narrow skirts hung loose o n

his back ; he kept on e of his hands a inst his chest , applied'

the other con stantly to the fur co l ar that was about hisneck , and accompanied this gesture with a spasmodic movement of his head . He wore goat- skin boots , and placed hisfoot on the groun d with so much caution that the sounds ofhis steps could hardly be heard .

“The proprietorJag ouchkine asked for you to- day , saidthe clerk .

”

Humph ! he asked for me ? What did he say ?He said that he would g o on to Tioutiouref’s and wait

for you there . I want to see V assili Niko laitch,

’ he said tome, ‘

on business ,’ but d id not say what it was.

‘VassiliN iko laitch knows what it is about ,

’ he added .

”

Humph said the chief cashier, and he went to thewin dow.

“ Is Nikolai Eréméitch in the office ? cried some one in

x . I n Russia the stewards are almost all Germans ; hence the desig nation .

g o THE OFFI CE.

the vestibule. A few minutes after, a tall man , whose facewas masculine and expressive , thou h his features were veryirregular, crossed the threshold . e was very neat- looking,and he seemed much irritated .

He is not here , then he asked , after runn ing his eyeover every part of the room .

“Nikolai Eréme‘

itch is with the mistress , answered thecashier. What do ou wish ? Tell me , Pavel Andreiev itch

you can trust me. hat do you wish of him?What do I wish ? You wan t to kn ow what I wish ?The cashier Shook his head with a troubled air.

“ I wish to give him a lesson , the miserable wretch, theinfamous slanderer ! Yes , I will teach himThe new- comer stopped , bursting with anger, and threwhimself in to a chair.What’s the matter with you ? What

’s the matter, PavelAndreiev itch ? Calm yourself ! Are you not ashamed ? Isit of Nikolai Eréméitch that you presume to speak likethat ? How can you do so ?

”

What’s that to me ? What do I care that he is put at thehead of the office ! Ah , yes ; they have chosen well ! I cansay it : they have let the goat into the g arden .

Be silent ! be silen t, Pavel Andreiev itch ! Think n o

more of it . It is foolish !Come , master tom- cat ; he is beg inning to draw in his

claws . I will wait for him , replied Pavel with redoubledan ger, and striking the table . But here he is con descending to come in this direction , he added , looking throughthe window.

“S cak of the wolf and you see his tail .W ill you be kin enough to come this way And hearose.Nikolai n réméitch came into the office. His face was

geamin g ; but it became somewhat darker when he sawaveLGood- day , Nikolai Erémeitch, sa id Pavel in a ve

significant ton e, and advan cing slowly towards him ,

“g oo

dahe chief clerk did n ot answer. The merchant appeared

on the threshold .

“Why don ’t you deign to an swer me ? resumed Pavel .That is not the way to g o to work . In sults and shoutsare of no use . Will you please tell me in a friendly way ,Nikolai Erémei tch , why you persecute me, why you driveme to desperation ? Come , answer !

”

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92 THE OFFI CE.

anywhere. You— that is another thing ; you can on ly livehere on calumn ies and robberies .There is one who has not a bad Opinion of himself, said

the stout clerk , interrupting him , at length beginn ing to losepat ience Aferekel ,

‘n othing more ; a miserable l ittle dis

pen ser of drugs ! But to hear him ,—ah he is an important

man“Yes , a ferchel ; but without this ferchel before long your

whole manor would be in the cemetery . Did the devil inspire me to heal you he added between his teeth .

You pretend to have healed me ,— you ? replied theclerk quickly. No , you wished to poison me ; you g ave mealoes to take .

Well , what then ? A loes were the only thing that wouldact on you.

”

The medical d irect ion , continued Nikolai , happy tohave thus turned away Pavel ’s attacks , has forbidden theuse of aloes that is why I shall bring a complaint againstyou. You Wished to kill me , that is certa in but Godwouldnot allow it .

”

Come , g entlemen ! come , enough of th is ! said thecash ier in his turn .

Silence !” cried the clerk . He wished to poison me ,do you un derstand that ?How probable ! Listen , Nikolai Eréméitch , resumed

Pavel with an accent of despair ; “I beg you for the last time.You have driven me to extremities ; it is impossible to en dureany more . Leave us in peace ; do you understan d me ? Ifn ot , I take God to witness , a misfortune will happen to one

of us two ; you may be sure of that .I am not afraid of you, cried the clerk , who was g etting

more and more irritable . Do on hear me, you reenhorn ? I g ot the better of your ather ; I broke his orn s

for him let that serve you as a lessonDon ’t speak to me of my father.Indeed I have no orders to receive from you.

I repeat , don’t speak of it . ”

And I repeat to you not to forg et yourself. Howevernecessary you believe yourself to be at the house , if they mustchoose between us , it is n ot you who will remain , my littlepigf

on . No one is allowed to rebel .avel trembled with rage .

r. Servan t or bourg eo is attached to the g overnmen t hospitals to acquirea smattering Of medicine.

THE OFFI CE . 93

The girl Tatiana was treated as she deserved . Wait al ittle ; she will have a taste of many otherPavel threw his arms out in the direction Of the clerk .

The clerk rolled heavily upon the floor .Let him be thrown into prison ! Let iron s be put on

him !” he cried with a roar, and trying to rise .I have not the courage to describe the end of this scene

I fear I have already said too much for the reader. I re

turned home the same . day . A week after, I learn ed thatMadame Losn iakof had kept Pavel and Nikolai in herservice , but that she had exiled Tatian a. It appeared thatthe girl ’s services were no longer necessary.

CHAPTER V I II .

KARATAIEF.

A BOUT five years ago I chanced to pass n early an entire

day , at the end0 autumn , in a post - house on the roadfrom Moscow to Toula . There were no horses to be had . Ihad been out shooting, andwas rash enough to sen d away mycarriage . The master of the post- house , a sloven ly old man ,with hair covering his face to his n ose , and l ittle sleepy eyes ,an swered all my complain ts and en treaties with a shortgrowl , slamming the door angri ly , as if he cursed his lot ;and when he appeared on the porch , it was to apostrophizethe iamelzti iés , ‘who were creeping along through the mudwith heavy a

’

orzg as2un der their arms , or were sitting on a

ben ch yawn ing and every n ow and then scratch in g theirheads , without paying any great attention to the exclamation s that anger called forth from their master. I had al

ready taken tea two or three t imes , tried several times to goto sleep , and glan ced over all the in scription s that coveredthe walls and bl inds of the room. I felt bored to death .

While I was silen tly gazing, with real despair, at my car

riag e, the shafts Of which were still in the air, the sound ofa hell was heard, and a l ittle téléga drawn by three t iredhorses stopped before the porch . The n ew arrival jumpedout , crying, Come , quick ! horses and entered theroom . The master of the post’s an swer , “ There are n o

horses , plunged him, as usual , into a state of stupefaction ,

and I had time to examine him from head to foot with theeag er curiosit of a man who is very much bored . He ap

pearedto be a out thirty. The small - pox had left ineffaceabletraces on his yellowish withered face , which had a copperishreflection that produced a disagreeable impression ; his longbluish - black hair fell in locks on his collar , and in fron twas carefully curled ; his l ittle swollen eyes were expression

1 . Peasan ts en trusted with carry ing passengers.

hz .

dA roun d piece ofwood that un ites the shafts and rises above the horse

’

sea

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Now I am on my way to Moscow , he said to me, fin ishin g his fourth g lass of tea. “ I have n othing more to doin the country .

’

How so

Yes , n othin My fortune is impaired ; I have ruinedmy peasan ts ; must ackn owledge it . We have had badseasons , the harvest has failed , and then what can I do ?Besides , he added mournfully, turning away his eyes , “ I ama sad man ager. ”

ReallyOh yes ; good proprietors manage differently. Come ,

he said to me , lean ing his head on his shoulder and suckin gthe end of his pipe , you thought , I am sure , when you sawme , that I was— how shal l I say it — well , n o— I will tell youthe truth . I received rather a bad educat ion ; yes , for wan tofmean s . Pardon the fran kness of my words ; besidesHe did not finish , but waved his hand . I hastened to

assure him that he was mistaken , that I was very happy to

have met him , etc . As I fin ished , I thought I ought to addthat I did n ot thin k it necessary to possess very extendedkn owledge to be a good proprietor.“Yes ,

" he an swered ; “we agree as to that . But yetone must be adapted to it. There are people who can doanything and who always come out right ; but I Permitgn e to ask you

— do you l ive at Petersburg or at Moscow“ I am from Petersburg.

He blew a long column of smoke from his nostrils .“ I amgoing to look for a place at Moscow.

What do you intend your future career to be ?I don ’t kn ow ; that will depend upon c ircumstances . I

must admit I am somewhat afraid of the prospect : it is easyto get into a scrape . I have always lived in the coun try ;I am accustumed to it , you know . But what can I do ?ecessity

— oh , if it were n ot for that !You will have the advan tag e of l iving in a large town .

I n a large town ? Yes but I don ’t know really whetherI shall l ike it. Yet I don t kn ow ; it is possible . I doubt ,however, whether one can live in town as pleasantly as inthe coun try.

”

Is it possible , then , for you to stay in the country ?He sighed . It is impossible . My property n o longerbelong s to me , so to speak .

”

Really

HAFA TA I‘

EF. 97

Yes ; there is an honest man yonder—a neighbo r— youunderstan d ; a notePoor Peter Petrovitch passed his hand over his face ,

became pensive , and shook his head despairin gly .

How can it be helped ? Yet I must admit , he addedafter a pause , that I have n o right to blame any one ; Ialone am to blame , I l ike good l iving ; yes , may the deviltake me ! I am fon d of good living.

Then you led a merry l ife in the coun t i?r ?

I must tell you , he answered slowly , ookin g fixedly atme , “that I had a dozen couples of greyhounds that werealmost unequalled (he pron ounced this last word in ashrill voice) .

“They would stop a hare as quick as a flashand as to wolves and foxes , they— the were very serpents ,asps . I also had famous harriers . But t at is all over ; I don

’twish to deceive you . I l ikewise shot, and had a dog namedCoun tess who poin ted in an ext raordinary man ner : she hada nose such as on e seldom comes across . When , on comingto amoor, I said to her, ‘Go seek ! ’ and she did n ot startsomething, I was sure that any one else would beat themoor with ten dogs with the same result . And how welltrained she was ! You could ive her a piece of bread withyour left han d , sayin to her , g Jew has bitten it she wouldn ot touch it . But i you gave it to her with the right , saying to her The young lady has tasted Of it ,

’ she would takeit and eat it instan tly . I kept o ne of her uppies ; it was alsoa fine animal , and I wished to take it toEloscow ; but one ofmy frien ds asked me for it , as well as for my g un . He saidto me , See here , brother, yonder at Moscow they have nouse fo r such things . Yon der you wil l have something elseto do , brother.

’ I ended by givin g him the little dog as

well as the g un . All such things are for the country.

But you can shoot when you l ive at Moscow .

No , what'

s the use? I did not know how to manage . Imust know how to suffer. Let us say n o more about it.But , by your leave , l iving at Moscow is very dear ?

”

“Oh no ; not so ve dear.Not very dear ? ut tell me , pray , are there Bohemian s

at Moscow?What Bohemians do on mean ?I mean Bohemians w o frequent the fairs .Yes , there are some .

Then so much the better. I l ike Bohemians ; yes, maythe devil take me ! I l ike them .

98 HAFA TA I'

EF .

A fierce joy shone in Pet er Pétrov itch’

s eyes . But hesudden ly moved about on the ben ch , then became pen sive ,hun h is head , and stretched out to me his empty glass .g ive me some of your rum he said .

But there is no more tea.

That’s n o matter ; give me some without tea . Bah !

Karataiefcrossed his arms o n the table , and lean ed his headon them . I gazed at him in silen ce ; I expected to hear himutter some melan choly exclamat ion s , or even see him burstin to tears , as men who are in toxicated often do . But heraised his head again , and I was struck by the profound sadn ess that his face expressed .

What is the matter with you ?Nothing ; a remembran ce of the good times ; a story

I will tell it to you . But I fear it will bore you .

What an ideaYes , he con tin ued , si h ing , “ there are circumstances

as , for example , that whic ha pen ed to me I would tell itto you if you cared to hear. ut really

Go on , my dear Peter Petrovitch .

Well , then , I will . This is the adven ture that— howshall I say — that happen ed to me . I was l iving in the

coun try , and sudden ly a youn g girl took my fancy. Oh !indeed an adorable young girl— beaut iful , in tell igent , and

good . Her n ame was Mat rén a. She was a girl Of thelower class ; that is— you kn ow— a serf. But she did n ot

belong to me , and that was the worst of it. As I have justtold you, I fell in love with her. The story is really curious: Ialso pleased her. But soon Mai ren a began to beg me tobuy her. I had already thought of it . I must tell you thatshe belon ged to a very rich Old woman who l ived about fifteen verstes frommy coun try- place . Well then , On e fine day ,as they say , I had three good horses put in to my drochki ;my shaft- horse trotted — ah Asiatic such as o n e seldomsees ; I had given him the n ame of Lampourdas. Idressed myself in m best andwen t to see Matréna

'

s mistress . I arrived , an foun d Matrén a at a turn in the roadshe wished to speak to me, but She s imply kissed her han dand wen t away . I entered the an te- room and asked,

‘ I syour mistress at home ? ’

A tall youth , a lackey , an sweredme : ‘Who shall I say wishes to see her ? ’ I replied,

‘Go and tell your mistress that the proprietor Karataiefdesires to speak with her about something important. ’ Thelackey left the room. I remain ed where I was , and said tomyself, ‘What will be the result Of this ? The hussy wi ll

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iOO HARA TA I’

EF.

I returned home very un easy . I n to understan dthat I had made a mistake ; I should n ot ave confessed mya'ffection . But it was too late n ow. At the end of a fewdays I

'

n went to see Matrén a'

s mistress . They showedme in to or sitting- room. It was full of flowers and verycomfortable ; the proprietress was in a very peculiar armchair , her head lean in on a cush ion . At her side was thesame relat ive who ha received me the first t ime , and a redfaced young lady with a large mouth and a g reen dress ,

— a

compan ion , probably . The old woman said to me in awhin ing ton e , Will you please be seated ? I sat down . Shebegan to question me about m age , my future plan s , andthis with an impo rtan t air. an swered fully . The old

woman took a handkerch ief from the table and began to fanherself. ‘Katerina Kasperov n a,

’

she at length,

said to me,has told me of your wishes ; yes , she has told them to me.

But I have laid it down as a rule she said , not to allow mypeople to serve elsewhere . It 18 n ot proper ; and besides ,the order of the house would suffer. So you had bettertrouble yourself no more about it ; you will on ly lose yourtime .

’ ‘It does not trouble me at all ; but Mat ren a

Fédorovn a is perhaps Of n o use to you No ,

’ she said , Ido n ot need her. ’ But , then , why will you not let me haveher ?

’ Because it does n o t suit me ; that’s all. I have de

cided ,’ she said , ‘to have her taken to a village of the

Steppe .

’ This news struck me like a thunder- clap . Theo ld woman added a few words in French to the youn gwoman in green , who then left the room. I am ,

’ she said ,‘a woman of princi les ; besides , my health is poor, and

every trouble is bad or me. You are oung ; I , who am Old ,have the right to give you advice . ou had much betterthin k of settl ing down , of marrying, of finding a goodmatch ; if rich heiresses are rare , there are plenty of poorbut good girls who would suit you.

’ While shewas speakin gto me about marriage , I , who un derstood nothing she said ,

looked at her in a bewildered way ; the thought of a villag ein the Steppe never left my mind .

‘I marry ? Go to thedevil with

f

Peter Petrov itch stopped abruptly , and looked me in theace.

You are not married ?No .

”

I was sure of it .— I could stand it n o longer. ‘Come ,mother, what nonsense you are talking ! A question of

HAFA TAI'

FF. iOi

marriag e, indeed ! I came to know whether you would Orwould n ot give me the girl Matrén a.

’ The old woman hegan to cry out , Ah he makes me ill ; ah ! sen d him away !ah Her relative ran to her, apostrophiz ing me . The oldwoman beg an to roan . What have I don e to deserve this ? ’

she said . Am n o t , then , mistress in my own house ? Ah !ah ! ’ I seized my hat and fled like a madman from theroom .

Maybe you will blame me , con tin ued Peter Pétrov itch ,

for becoming so strongly attached to a girl of low birth .

I will n ot try to just ify myself in any way . What was I todo ? I loved that girl to a degree that I thought of herday and night. I was on the rack . I reproached myselffor having brou ht such trouble on that poor in nocen t creature. When I t ought of her as a peasant , lookin g after the

geese by her mistress ’s order, and exposed to the in sults ofatarosta , heavy- fisted, with tarred boots , a cold perspirationstarted out over my whole body. At last , bein g n o longerable to en dure it , I found out the villag e to which they hadbanished her, moun ted my horse and started off towards it.I did not reach it before evening of the next day . It ap

peared that they did not expect my visit , and n o order hadeen given about it in the village . I went straight to theStarosta’s , as a neighbor ; I entered the yard and lookedabout me . Matrena was seated on the ste s , with her headon her hand . She was just o n the poin t 0 crying out whenI shook my finger at her and poin ted to the door that overlooked the fields at the bottom of the yard . I wen t intothe isba and began to chat with the Starosta ; I told himsome non sense or other , and, taking advantage of a favorable opportun ity , I went to meet Matren a. The poor girlhung about my neck . How pale andthin she had become , mydove ! I said to her, It is nothing, Matren a ; it is nothingdon ’t cry .

’

Andyet I felt tears coming tomy eyes . However, Iwas ashamed and sa id to her, Matren a, tears will do no good.

Listen to me. You must act , as the saying is , with decision ;you must fly with me that is what you must do .

’

Matrenawas dismayed . How ! is it ossible ? I will be lost Theywill destroy me ent irely.

’ ow foolish you are ! how canthey find you ag ain ?

’ They will discover me ; I am surethat they will find me. Thanks , Peter Petrovitch ; I willremember your kindness all my life. But leave me now ; it isdoubtless my fate.

’

Ah, Matren a ! Matrena And I whothought you such a resolute girl Indeed she was not

ioz KARA TA I'

EF.

wanting in character ; she had a great deal with a heart ofold ! Why will ou stay here ? Come W ith me ; you willfie no worse off. me , confess it you have felt the weightof the Starosta

’s fists . Is it n ot true ? ’

Matrena blushedand her l ips trembled . I Shall ruin my whole family ; theywill not leave them in peace .

’

As to your relatives , whatcan happen to them ? Will they exile them ? ’ ‘Yes , mybrother

,they will surely exile them .

’ ‘And your father,They will n ot exile h im ; he is the only good tailor thatthere is on the lace . You kn ow it . A nd your brother willn ot die of it. ’ ell ,

you may imagin e that I had the great

est trouble in the wor d to persuade her ; she began to speakof the disag reeable things to which I was about to exposemyself. That is n ot your lookout ,

’ I sa id to her. I en dedin taking her away ; but n o t that day ,— another time . Onen ight I came in a télé

ga and took her away with me.

You carried her offI carried her off. So then she was in stalled in my

house. My house was n ot large , and I had but few servants , but I can say that they were all much attached to

me ; the would not have betrayed me for anything in theworld . I

,

was happy . Mat rén ouchka l had recovered herhealth , and I was seriously attached to her . Ah ! she welldeserved it . She was really a won derful girl ! She couldSing, dance , and play on the guitar. I did not let myneighbors see her they would have gossiped about it. ButI had a friend , Pan telei Gorn ostaief— you have not thehonor of knowing him ? He was mad about her ; he actuall kissed her hands as he would have kissed a lady ’s. Besi es , I must tell you that Gorn ostaiefwas a differen t kin dof a man than I : he was very learn ed ; he had read allof Pouchkine. When he began to talk with me andMatrena , we l istened to him in amazement. Did he n ot

take it into his head to teach her to write ? He was ec

centric , as you see . But what dresses I g ave to Matrena !The Govern or’s wife had not more beaut iful ones . I had alisse of rose- colored velvet l in ed with fur made for her.

t was a dressmaker from Moscow , a madame, who made itand sewed it after a n ew fashion ,

—g athered in at the waist .

How queer Matren a was ! She often passed en tire hoursn sive, with down cast eyes , and n ever moved . I sat nearer, and could not keep my eyes , from her. Then she he

s . A friendly diminutive of Matrena.

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i O4 KARA TA I‘

FE.

a! ai Stop them ! stop them cried her compan ion in a

shrill voice . We flew along ; it was n ecessary. A ll the same ,it gave me somethin g to thin k of. ‘A bad busin ess ,

’ Isaid to myself ; ‘I was wrong to let her 0 to Koukon ievka.

’

“But would you bel ieve it ? The O! woman had recogn ized Matren a ; she had recognized me also and brought acomplain t ain st me . ‘The noble proprietor Karat ief,

’

she said , ‘is arborin g a girl who fled from my house and,

of course , she promised the authorities to Show herselfgrateful if they would do her justice . Soon after, I sawthe [sprawzié

‘coming. I kn ew him; his name was Stepan eA g ueitch Kon zovkine. He was a worthy man ; thou h , totell you the truth , he did not amoun t to much . 0 he

arrived ; he en tered my house and said to me, How PeterPetrovitch , indeed I don

’

t un derstan d you ! You have ot

ourself into trouble ; the law is precise .

’ ‘That ’s all rig t ,’

I,

sa id to him ;‘we will speak of that an other time ; but , in

the mean while , will you n ot take something to refresh yourself with after your drive ? ’

He con sen ted , but soon resumed : ‘Just ice must takeits course , Peter Petrovitch ; you will agree to that yourself ’ ‘Yes , doubtless ,

’ I said , ‘just ice is exact in it istrue ; justice But I have heard that ou had a litt e blackhorse will you exchange him for my mpourdas ? As tothe girl Mat ren a , she is not in my possess ion .

’ ‘Tell thatto Others , Peter Petrovitch ,

’ he an swered me ; ou have thegirl ; it is kn own : we don

’t l ive en Suisse. he trade ofwhich you speak can be made ; I could even , if you wish ,take your Lampourdas without giving my horse in exchan e}i t last I ended in getting rid of him th is time as well as

I could . But the old proprietress bestirred herself morethan ever. ‘I am ready ,

’ she said , ‘to sacrifice ten thousan droubles , if n ecessary.

’ It was all because , you see , she hadgot the idea in to her head that I should marry the youngwoman in green . I learn ed this later ; that is why she wasso furious . God kn ows what these fine ladies don ’t th in kof! They are so bored ! Doubtless that was the reason .

Yet I could n ot extricate myself. Mon ey went fast, and Ihad hidden Matren a . But all that was of n o use : theypushed me to extremes ; they caug ht me like a hare . I wasruined with debts , and ill . On e n ight I was stretched on

x . Police Ofi cer in little villag es.

HAFA TA I‘

EF 105

my bed, and was saying to myself, My God ! why am I soOverwhelmed , persecuted ? They may do their best ; I willnot give up this irl ! It is stron er than I . I love her !and that’s all . ’ hom should see before me ? Matre

‘

na . I had concealed her some little time ag o on one ofmy farms , at about two verstes from home .

I was fri hten ed. Have the discovered you yonder ?Tell me .

’

0 , Peter Pétrov itc she answered ; ‘ I havebeen very quiet at Boubn ova ; no one has disturbed me.

But will that last long ? My heart is broken , Peter Petrov itch,

’ she added .

‘I pity you, my turtle- dove . Neverwhile I l ive shall I forget your kin dn ess , Peter Petrovitch ,and I have come to take leave Of you .

’ What ’s the matterwith you ? are you mad ? Take leave of me ? What do yousay ? ’ ‘Yes , I am going to give m self up .

’ You are mad !I will shut you up in the garret. ou wish to destroy me ?you wish to kill me ? ’ The or girl d id n ot an swer ; shestood with downcast eyes . ome, speak , explain yourself.

’

‘I don ’t wish to be a cause of trouble to you any longer,Peter Pétrov itch .

’

How could I reason with her ? Imbecile ! do you hear what I say ? You are a fool ! yes , youare—

9 n

And Peter Petrovitch began to sob .

“Would you believe it ? he resumed, striking the tablewith his fist and trying to frown , while large tears ran downhis burning cheeks . She gave herself up ; she went and

gave herself upi”

The horses are ready !” solemnly cried the master of thepost , who just came in to the room.

We arose.“What did they do with Matrena ? I asked the youngman .

He only answered by a gesture of his han d .

A year after my meeting with Karataief, circumstan cestook me to Moscow . On e day before d in n er I wen t in to a

café just behind the okotn oi - riad,

‘an d which . like all the

cafés in Moscow, was rather a stran ge place. The billiardroom was full of smoke , and you could dimly see red faces ,mustaches and fantast ic top- kn ots , Hungarian surtouts , andhere and there kaftan s of the old Russian fashion thathad been taken up again a short time before . Several verythin old men , whose appearan ce was most modest , were

1 . Provision - shops

106 HARA TAIEF.

reading the Russian papers . The waiters passed rapidlyabout with the dishes , and the noise of their steps wasdeaden ed by the soft carpets . There were also merchan tsswallowing their twent ieth cup of tea with efforts painful tosee. A man whose dress was in disorder , and who tottereda little in his walk , suddenly left the bill iard - room . He puth is hands in his pockets , bowed his head , and lookedmechan ically about him.

Bah bah bah Peter Petrovitch , how are you ?I thought he would fall on in n eck , but he contentedhimself with drawing me along wit him as he tottered intoan adjoin ing room .

Sit there , he said to me , establ ishing himself in an armchair ;

“you will be comfortable . Waiter ! beer— n o , Imean champagn e . In faith , I admit I did not expect tosee you again . What a surprise ! How long have you beenhere ? and do you in ten d staying long ? God brought you,

as the saying is it isYes , you remember me ?Why then ! I should thin k so , he hastened to answer .It is an old story ; it is an old story, an old storyWhat are you doing here , my dear Peter Pétrov itch ?I l ive here , as you can see . Living is good here ; there

is no lack of compan ion s . I am very conten t. ”

He sighed and raised his eyes to the ceil ing.

“You are at work ?No , not yet ; but I think before lon g I shall have employ

ment . But work is nothing. The men , that is the prin cipal thing. What acquain tan ces I have made hereA young waiter came in with a bottle of champagn e on ablack dish .

Here there is an honest fellow. Are you n ot , V acia, an

honest fellow ? Your health !”

The young man stood still for a few minutes , shook hishead W ith a modest air, smiled , and wen t away.“Yes , there are hon est men at Moscow ,

” resumed PeterPetrovitch , sensible and large- hearted . Do you wish to

make their acquain tan ce ? What ood comrades ! theywelcome you with Open arms . I wil speak to them . ButBobrof is dead . That was a great misfortun e l”

have not left Moscow ? you have n ot been in yourV ! e“a

hg'ly village ? My V illage is sold.They have sold it ?”

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108 HAFA TA I’

EF.

He let his head fall on the table and beg an to utter confused exclamations intermixed with sighs .

Within a mon th ,’ he resumed with a new pose :

Within amon th ,A littlemon th , or ere those shoes were old,With which she followed my poor father’s body ,0 heaven ! a beast , that wan ts discourse of reason ,Would havemourned longer !

He took a glass of champag n e and carried it to his lips ;but he did not touch it , and again began to declaim :

What ’s Hecuba to him, or he to Hecuba ,That he should weep for her?

Am I a coward ?Who callsme villai n ? breaks my

.pate across ?

Plucks Offmybeard and blows it in to m

yface ?

Tweaks me y the nose ? givesme the ie i’the throat,

As deep as to the lungs ?But I ampigeon - livered , and lack gallTomake oppression bitter.

Karataief let his glass fall and took his head in both hishan ds . I had un derstood him. Like Hamlet he was doubtless reproaching himself for having cowardly abandoned the

poor girl who had sacrificed herself for him .

Ah bah he said to me at leng th , he who recal ls thepast puts his finger in his eye . Is it n ot true ? He beg anto laugh . Your heal th !”

You intend to stay at Moscow ? I asked him .

I shall d ie at Moscow .

Karataief! some on e cried in the n ext room . Karataief! where are you ? Come here , amiable mortalThey call me ,

” he said to me. risin g with an efiort .Come and see me , if you have the t ime ; I l iveBut the . next day un foreseen circumstan ces obl iged me to

go away. I have never heard Peter Petrovitch Karataiefspoken of since.

LEBED IANA . 109

CHAPTER IX.

Lt BEmANA .

NE of the g reat advantages of shooting, my dear reader,is the per etual going from place to place by those

person s who in ulge in it , and for idlers there is nothingmore agreeable . I t is true that at t imes (especially in rainyweather) these ramblings through the fields are not so

pleasan t. It is necessary to stop every peasant whom youmeet and ask him the way. Halloo ! frien d ,

” you or out ,“ in what d irect ion must I go to reach Mordovka Oncoming to the village for which you are looking , a n ew

trouble awaits you . There you must un dergo a longharan g ue with a stupid peasan t- woman (all the workmenare in the fields) in order to find out how far you are fromthe nearest in n , and which road you must take to g et there .You start off again , but after goin g a dozen verstes you find,

in stead of an in n , the wretched village Khoudoboubrof, themuddy street of which is full of pi g s that wallow in it withdelight and seem vexed at being disturbed in their occupation . Many other disagreeable things await you ; you are

often obliged to cross over bridges that totter un der yourfeet , to go down in to ravines , to wade across brooks sur

roun ded by swamps . Nothing is less amusing, I must say ,than walking for en tire days in the sea of verdure that coversthe highways , and I trust to God that you will n ever be condemn ed to stay for several hours stuck in the mud before apart - colored post1 with the figures 22 on one side and 23on t e other. Fin ally , it is anything but agreeable to havefor your en t ire diet , for weeks at a time , n othing but eggs ,milk , an d black bread ; but al l these discomforts are madeup for by a number of advantag es and pleasures ofwhich Iwill n ot speak to- day, for it is time for me to begin my

I have just told you explains sufficiently how I

3 . Posts thatmark thedistance fromone relay to another.

I IO ZEBEDI ANA .

happen ed to find m self , a dozen years ag o , in the verymidst of the horse air at Lébédian a. It may very oftenhappen to us sportsmen , on

going out in the morn ing from

our more or less pat rimon ia roof, with the fixed in tentionto return by even ing , to wan der l ittle b l ittle , while aftersn ipe , as far as the happy ban ks of the etchora. Besides ,love of dogs andgun s n ecessarily in volves that of the n oblestof an imals— the horse. Well , I came to Lébédian a , wen t toan in n , changed my clothes , and directed my steps to theplace where they were holding the fair. The waiter at thein n , a tall , thin youth of twen ty , had already found t ime to

con fide in me,in a high n asal voice , that his Excellen cy

Prin ce N. , who bought horses for the cavalry , was stayin gun der the same roof with me ; that many other seign eurshad also arrived that the Bohemian s sang every eveningthat they were giving “Pan e Tverdovski ” at the theatre ;that the horses sold well andwere a good lot .

Several rows of carts , apparen tly without end , covered theplace where the fair was being held . Behin d these cartswere horses of every description trotters , horses for breedin g purposes , draught- horses , post- horses , and peasan ts ’

horses . Some fat and sleek , arran ged according to thei rcolor, covered with motley- colored cloths , were tied up veryshort to high racks ; they g azed timidly at the whips thattheir masters the horse- dealers held , the ran g e and weightof which they kn ew on ly too well proprietors ’ horses

,sen t

by the seig n eurswho l ived in the Steppes , at a hundred or eventwo hundred verstes from Lébédian a , under the care of somedecrepit old coachmen and two or three obstinate grooms

,

were bending their graceful n ecks , pawing the groun d and

gn awing the fences ; roan horses fromW iatka pressed again steach other ; trotters with large hind - quarters , long sweepin gtails , and hairy legs stood like l ion s , perfectly st ill ; therewere some of every color, black , bay , and dappled g ralovers of horse-flesh stopped before them in admiration . !nthe midst of the streets that the télégas made moved menof every age and of every cond ition : horse- dealers in bluekaftan s and high caps were look in g askan ce at the public and seeking a buyer ; Bohemian s with curly headsand promin en t eyes ran from o n e place to an other l ikescalded cats examin ed the horses’ teeth , l ifted up theirfeet or the ir tails , shouted , uttered big words , offered

z. The Faust of thePoles.

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1 12 LEBEDI ANA .

found two that suited me ; but it was impossible to d iscovera third to my taste. I turn ed back to the inn for din ner. (Iwill not describe this meal ; it is always painful to recall asorrowful past : this has in deed been recognized sin ce thetime ofE n eas .) I g ot up from the table and went to a placethat they called a café , and where assembled , every even ing,buyers of horses for the cavalry , proprietors of studs , andother persons. The b ill iard- room was dense with smoke ;twenty people were assembled there. There were youngproprietors with free and easy manners , in Hungariansurtouts and gray trousers, their hair curled and theirl ittle mustaches carefully waxed , and with a proud, boldlook . Amon them were other seigneurs in loose coats ;most of themhad their heads buried between their shoulders ,their faces swollen with fat, andwere puffing in a desperatemanner. Merchants stood modestly apart ; officers chattedfreely among themselves . Two players were at the table :one of them , Prince N. , was a young man with an open ,

somewhat scorn ful coun ten ance ; his long frock - coat un

buttoned exposed to sight a red silk shirt and far e velvettrousers . An ex- l ieuten ant was playing with h im; is namewas Klopakof, and he deserves a more detailed description .

Lieutenant V ictor Klopakofwas a thin l ittle man with adark complexion , who m ight have been thirty ; his hair wasblack , his eyes brown , and his n ose large and turned up. Hespent most of his time atassemblies of the nobility and at horsefairs. He skipped in walking, moving his arms in a swaggerin g way , his cap over his ear, and he generally rolled up thesleeves of his mil itary great- coat, which were l in ed with shotcolored cal ico . Klopakof had a talent for insinuating himself in to the good graces of al l the rich wi ld Pétropolitan owhom he met ; he smoked , drank , played cards with them,

and was allowed to tutoyer them . By what right did he

enjoy these favors ? That would be rather d ifficult to say .

Lieuten ant Klopakof was n ot clever ; he was not evenamusing, and could not in any way fill the office of buffoon .

He was treated , it is true , a little cavalierly, as an hon estfellow of n o importance . This lasted for two or threeweeks , and then they stopped bowing to him and he didl ikewise . The only merit that can be given the Lieutenantwas that of repeating on every occasion , and as often as hecould with referen ce to nothin at all , for a year or two , oneand the same expression , whic had nothing amusing aboutit , but which no one could hear without bursting out laug h

LEBEDI ANA . 1 1 3

ing. Eight years 0 he said con stantly ,“My respectér, I

than k you ve hum ly ; and all those who patron ized himbegan to laug or even begged him to say it again . Thenhe adopted rather a complicated phrase : Non , vous allezdéja, qu

’

est quz’

c’

est fa , qu i sont de sortir. And th is newfoolishness obtained just as great a success . Two years afterthis he had taken up the habit of saying, “Don

’t be angry

,

man of God sewn in a sheep- skin . Nothing more foolish ;is it not so ? And yet he owed to these not very ingeniousinvention s shelter, food , and clothing. He had dissipatedhis fortune long since , and now he l ived on his friends . Irepeat it, you could not find an other merit in him un less ,however, it be in smoking a hun dred times a day , in liftin gthe right leg as high as his head when he took aim atbill iards , and using his cue with great skill— practices thatare not, after all, to the taste of eve one . I must add ,however, that he drank straight ; but t is talent is n ot rarein our good Russia . Finally , the favor that he en jo ed withcertain people was for me a mystery, unless you at tri ute it tohis extreme prudence he could keep the secrets of the hosts

g o

hc

i

entertained him , and the sl ightest slander never passed18 fps .

Let us see , I said to myself on seeing KIOpakof,“what

his favorite phrase is to- day .

”

The Prince hit the white .“Thirty to nothing, said a consumptive, melancholy

lookin marker with heavy eyes .The rince vigorously knocked the yellow into the cornerpocket.

Ah ! ah joyously cried out a stout merchant who wasseated in a corner of the room before a l ittle rickety table ;but he had n o sooner uttered this exclamation when he became confused . V ery fortunately no one had taken anynot ice of it. He sighed and be an to stroke his beard .

“Thirty- six to nothing, crie the marker in a nasal tone .

What do you say to that , brother asked the Prince ofKlo akof.

l'

ell , what of it ? It was a rrrakalioon , a real rrrakafoon.

The Prince ve a burst of laughter.“How, how?a Repeat itRrrakaliooon repeated the Lieutenant with a satisfied

That’

s the word , I said to myself.

1 14 LEBfiDJANA .

The Prince hit the red .

Ah ! that is n ot the way , timidly said a l ight- hairedyoung officer with red tired eyes , a ve smal l n ose , and

the appearan ce of a child just awaken ed rom a sound sleep .

You un derstand ; you should not pla it l ike that .“ In deed said the Prin ce without isturbin g himself.You should do it so— by a triple .

Indeed replied the Prin ce between his teeth .

It is this evening, Prince , the young man hastened toadd,

quite confused , that we are going to the Bohemians ?Stechka will sing ; I liouchaThe Prince did not an swer.Rrrakalioon ! brother, said K10pakof, winking his left

eye maliciously .

The Prince began to laugh .

Thirty- n ine to n othing, cried the marker majestically.

Noth ing , nothing. You are go ing to see how that yellowone thereK10pakof moved his cue rapidly , leaned his left hand on

the bill iard - table , took a long aim— and missed .

Ah ! rrrakaliooon he cried in his rag e .The Prin ce began to laugh more than ever.How, how, how ?But Klopakofwas n ot disposed to say it again . It is good

sometimes to be urged .

“You have had the honor of missing, said the marker .A llow me to chalk your cue. Forty to nothing.

By the way , gentlemen , repl ied the Prince,turn ing to

the lockers- on , but without looking at any o ne in part icular,

“you know we must remember the V erjembitskaia th is

even ing after the lay P”

How ’s that ? es , of course ! cried several of the audience , hasten ing to an swer the Prince

’s observation . TheV erjembitskaia.

The V erjembitskaia is an excellent actress ; much betterthan the Sopn iakovna , added in a harsh voice a wretchedlooking little man wearing mustaches and spectacles . Theunhappy man he was secretly burning for the Sopn iakovna ;and the Prince did not deign to give him a look .

Here , waiter , a pipe cried a tall thin erson in a voicethat seemed to issue out of his collar ; be ad regular features and an appearance of exaggerated dign ity

,which

, inRussia , den otes almost always a skilful player.

The servan t ran to look for a pipe , and was n ot long in

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1 16 LEBED I ANA .

You wish— I mean for what use do you wish a horseA horse to drive or to work asked Citn ikof.

Show me both kinds. ”

V ery well ; we understan d , we understan d answered thehorse - dealer. slowly striking an att itude . Petka, showHermin e to the gentleman .

We left the stableBut wouldn ’t you like to have them bring you a bench

from the isbaAs you wish .

A horse ’s step te- echoed on the boards , a cracking washeard , and Petka, a man of forty , with a swarthy face andmarked with the small- pox, came out of the stable witha rather fine- looking stallion . A fter letting him prance as

much as he liked, he trotted him two or three times beforeus in the yard , and ski lfully brought him up to the placethat was well adapted to showing the horses ofi . Herminestretched out his neck , snorted , raised his tail , moved hishead , and began to glan ce sideways at us .

He is a very well - trained beast , I said , examin ing him.

Let h im g o , let h im go , said Citn ikof to the groom , and

he looked at me.How do you like him ? he asked me at last.He is not bad ; a good enough animal ; a l ittle tender,

perhaps , forward .

”

His legs are perfectly soun d Citn ikof answered me ,with an accent of conviction and what hind - quarters !l

ilease look at them— a real stove you might sleep on

t em .

His pasterns are too lon g.

Too long ? Come , n ow. Start him a l ittle, Petka ; starth im , but trot , trot ; don

’t gallop him .

The g room again started off with Hermine . There was a

moment’s silence .Come ! take him away, said Citn ikof. “Show the Fal

con .

A few moments after, Falcon , a stallion of Holland breed ,black as jet , with roun d hin d - quarters , but a l ittle lank , ap

pleat

edin the yard . He was n o t much better than Herni ine.

e was one of those an imals that have a habit of throwingtheir feet out on on e side as they g o along, without makin g

Patzz

g ell us

ssian peasan ts g enerally lie on the top of their stoves. (See note on

1 3 .

LEBEDI ANA . 1 17

much headway . Middle - aged merchants like horses of thiski nd ; their gait has a certain affected grace that attractsthem ; they are wonderfully adapted for an after- din n erdrive . Harn essed to a comfortable drochki and driven ba sleek- looking coachman , they g o along majestically , wittheir necks curved l ike swan s , pompously drawin g a heavymerchant sufferin from astrit is, and his fat Wi fe with a

l i lac handkerchie about er head , and wrapped up in an

ample coat of blue silk .

I told Citn ikof that Falcon did n ot please me an y betterthan Hermin e . Several other horses were shown me

, andamong the n umber a dapple-

g ray stall ion , who seemed tome to be an excellen t animal . I did not h ide this opinion

,

and going up to the horse , I began to pat him . The horsedealer immediately assumed an air of indifference .Is be good for a teamP” I asked him .

Oh yes, he replied calmly.

Could you not try h imWhy not ? will ingly. Hey ! Konzis, h itch up Swift to

the drochki. ”

Konzia, a master- coachman worthy of the del icate dutiesentrusted to him , passed two or three times before us in thestreet. Swift behaved ve well . He had an easy gait , along stride , his tail was we! put on , and he did n ot move hishind - quarters as he wen t along.

How much do you wish for him ?Citn ikof asked me a fabulous price . We began to bargain in the middle of the street ; but sudden ly a handsometéléga , drawn by three fine lamcht ik horses , came noisilyout of the n ext street , and sto

gped abruptly before the door

of the house . It was Prince who thus arrived, with hisfriend K10pakof. Baklag a drove , and how well he d id it !He could have passed through an ear- ring, the scamp ! Thetwo flank - horses were lively l ittle beasts , with black feet andn oses ; they were high- spirited , restless animals ; at the

slightest whistle off they would go like a shot. The shafthorse stood firmly on h is legs , his chest out , eyes half - shut ,n eck gracefully curved , and his legs as slen der as arrows.What a team ! A Tzar could no t have wished for anythingbetter with which to show himself in public on Easter Day .

Your Excellen cy, will you come in cried Citn ikof.The Prin ce jumped out. Klopakof got out slowly on theother side .

Good - day , brother. Have you any horses ?

1 18 LEBED I ANA .

Why should I not have them for your Excellency !Come in , I beg of you. Petka, bring out Peacock , and letthem get The Well- beloved ready. As to our busin ess,

” headded , turning to me , we will finish that another time .

Fomka, a bench for his Excellen cy .

”

I soon saw Peacock appear. They brought h im out from a

separate stable that I ad n ot noticed . He was a superbanimal , and he sprang in to the yard with such rapid ity thathis feet scarcely seemed to touch the ground . Citn ikofturn ed awa his head and half- closed his eyes .

No ! rra alion cried KIOpakof,“j

’

éme fa .

The Prince began to laugh .

They had a great deal 0 trouble to restrain Peacock ; hedragged the

lg roomwho was holding him about the yard for

some t ime . hey finally stopped him near awall . He snorted ,trembled , turned round and round at every moment ; stil lCitn ikof did n o t stop excitin g himwith his whipWhat do you mean ? I will ! bah he said to him in a

tone of reproach mixed with tenderness ; for he himselfcould n ot he] admirin him .

How muc aske the Prince .For your Excellency , five thousand .

Three .

”

Impossible Your Excellency , what are ou thinking of ?Three was said ; rrakalion said Klopakof.I went awa without waiting for the end of the trade . Insin the ouse that was at the corn er of the street , I

n otice above a door a lar e sheet of paper. At the top of

th is placard was drawn wit a pen a horse with a tail l ike atrumpet and a n eck without end. Under this vignette weretraced in old Russian characters the following words :

Here are sold horses of every color, brought to the fairof Lébédian a from the well- known studs of A n astacef

Ivan ovitch Tchernobai , a proprietor of the Government ofIambof. These horses are picked , very well roomed , andnaturally kind . Customers will please ask or An astacei

Ivan ovitch himself and if by chan ce An astacei be absen t , address the coachman Nazar Koubychkin e. Buyers , we begof

Iyou,please honor with your v i51t an old man

stopped . I have a great min d to go in and see thesehorses of Tchernobai , the proprietor of this well - kn ownstud , I said to myself.I put my han d o n the latch of the door ; but , contrary to

the custom of the coun try, it was locked . I knocked .

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120 LEBED IANA .

drug s, and pepper. God bless them Everything is as clearand Open as the palm of your hand with me , without anytricks at all . ”

The horses were brought out . They did not please me .Come , take them awa with the grace of God, A n as

tacei Ivanovitch said . how us others . ”

Others were brought out . I fin ally chose one. We beganto discuss the price . Tchern obai was n ot excited ; he spokeso reasonably , andwith so much gravity, that one truly feltobl iged to fionor in him the old man , according to the sign .

I finally g ave him something on accoun t .

Now, resumed An astacei Ivanovitch , “allow me to

make over the horse to you according to the old custom .

It is an an imal for which you will be grateful to me ; he isas sound as the nut on the tree ! Finally, a true horse ofthe Steppe . He is fitted for driving and riding.

”

Having said this , he crossed himself , stretched one of theskirts of his coat on his han d , seized the end of the halterand assed it to me .

ow possess it in peace with the grace of God. Andwill you n ot accept a l ittle cup of tea now ?”

No , I thank you ; I must return .

As you l ike . And shall my little coachman follow youwith the little horse ?“Oh yes ; if you l ike .Certain ly, my turt le - dove , certainly. Vassi li ! Hey ! V as

sil i ! g o with the master ; take the little horse and receivethe

'money. So good -by , father ; may Heaven protect

ouy“Good-by , Anastacei Ivano vitch .

They took the horse to the inn . The n ext da I discovered that he was lame and broken- winded . had himhitched up ; it was impossible to make him start ; at thesl ightest blow of the whip he began to balk , and ended bylying down .

I immediately went back to Tchern obai ’s, and on comingto his door I asked whether he was at home.Yes .Well ,

” I said to him,

“you have sold me a brokenwinded horse .

Broken -winded God help meAnd besides , he is lame and V icious.Lame ? I knew nothin g of that ; your l ittle coachman

must have hurt him . As to me, I can swear before God

LEBED IANA .121

back“ least , Anastacel Ivanovitch , you should take him

No , father don ’t be angry. Once out of the yard all isat an end. You should have examin ed him carefully .

I understood him , and, submitting to my fate , began tolaugh and went away . Happily the lesson did n ot cost metoo dear.A few days after I departed . A t the end of a week Ipassed through Lébédian a on my way home . I found in thecafé n early all the faces that I had seen there the first time ,and among others the Prince playing billiards . But Klopakoi ’s lot had experien ced on e of those changes to which hewas so accustomed . The l ittle , l ight- haired officer of huzars had replaced him with the Prince . The poor Lieutenan tattempted, in my presen ce , to slip a word into the con versation to try to get back his old favor : n ot only did the

Prin ce not smile , but frowned and shrugged his shoulders.

K10pakof bowed his head , and went and squatted in a

comer of the room . Soon after I saw him Silently fillin ga pipe.

122 TCHERTAPKANOF AND NEDopoUSKINE.

CHAPTER X.

TCHERTAPKANOF AND NEDOPOUSKINE.

ONE day I was return ing from shooting in my téléga ; itwas in the middle of summer and very warm . Jermo

lai , who was seated near me , was doz ing, his head fallin gforward every moment without its waking him . The dogssleepin g at our feet were tossed about as if dead by the joltings of the téléga . The coachman was con t inually switchin g with his whip at the

‘

flies that lit on the horses . A

cloud of whitish dust followed the télég a. We entered agrove ; the road became worse , the wheels were con tinuallybeing can ht in the bran ches

Aermolaf woke up with a

start , and ooked about him. h ,”

he cried , “ there mustbe grouse about here ! Let us find out . We g ot out and

went in to the bushes . My dog soon sprung a covey ofgrouse ; I fired , andwas about to reload my g un , when , thebushes sudden ly opening with a n oise behind me, I saw acavalier who came toward me.

“A llow me to ask you , mydear sir, he said haughtily , “ by what right you are shooting over these lan ds The person who thus quest ioned mespoke throu g h his nose and jerked out his words veryquickly . I looked at him fixedly. I n ever in my l ife metsuch a figure . Imagin e , my dear readers , a little , l ighthaired man with long red mustaches and a red , turned- u

pn ose. A long Persian head- dress , topped by a v iolet clotcap , covered his forehead to his eyebrows . H is dress consisted of a yellow threadbare arkalouk ,

‘ with black plushpockets on the breast , and s ilver lace on all the seams; thislast showed lon g usage , as did all the rest of his dress . He

wore a hunting- horn hung by a lace cord passing un der h isshoulder, and a dagg er stuck out of his belt. The bay horsethat he rode was foundered , broken -win ded , and stumbledat every ste

p‘; two setters , thin and ill - shapen , ran about

this steed . he features , look , voice , and all his movements ,

1 . Persian dress in the formof a tun ic.

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124 TCHER TAPKANOF AND NED0190USKINE.

I thank you very humbly .

He clacked with his l ips , kicked his horse’s flan ks several

times with his heel , and trotted off in the direction that Ihad pointed out . I followed him with my eyes unti l hispoin ted cap had disappeared in the midst of the branches .

The second person was in n o way l ike the person who hadso abruptly quest ion ed me . He had a large , bloated facethat expressed kin dn ess , timid ity , and resig n ation ; his nose ,large and round , was covered with little bluish vein s , anddenoted a sensual temperamen t . The front of his head wasentirely without hair, but several l ittle reddish locks hungon his n eck ; his little bl inking eyes were l ike gimletholes , and a sweet smile lighted up his thick red lips. Hewore a very n eat but threadbare surtout , with a strai htcollar and copper buttons . His cloth trousers were rol edup to his knees , and showed his little round calves and theyellow leg s of his boots .

fWho is he ?” I asked Jermolaf when we had lost sight

0 him .

That , he answered , that is Tikone Ivanovitch Néd0pouskine. He l ives with Tchertapkan of.“ Is he a poor manHe is n ot rich ; but Tchertapkanof is as poor as he

he is n ot worth a son .

Why does he live with him , thenOut of friendship . They cannot l ive without each other.

It is as I sa They are inseparable , though they are n ot atall alike . ut where the horse passes with his shoe , thecrab goes with his claws . ”

We left the brushwood . The barking of two setters sudden ly sounded at a few steps from us , and a large hare rushedout into the oats , that were already quite high . He wasimmediately followed by setters and greyhoun ds ; theirmaster , Tchertapkan of, was n ot long in emergiu in his turnfrom the bushes . He tried in vain to urge on t e pack hewas out of breath , puffing, and on ly from t ime to timeuttered a few inarticulate soun ds with great effort ; his eyeshad a hagg ard look , and he was urg ing on his unfortunatesteed by the blows of his n ajaika . The hounds were gainin g on the hare , that kept close to the groun d , doubledabruptly on itself , started off afresh and wen t towards theco se on Jermolal

’

s side . The houn ds passed beyond him.

t ten t ion ! fire !” cried Tchertapkanof with an effort , as

though he had lost the use of his tongue : he was beside

TCHERTAFKANOF AND NEDOPOUSKINE . 125

himself. My dear, attention Jermolai fired . The hare,

wounded , rolled over like a ball on the dry smooth grassthat covered the ed g e of the wood , made one more bound ,and uttered a plaint ive cry : one of the dogs had just seizedhim between his jaws. A few minutes after he was join edby the rest of the pack .

The fearless Tchertapkan of jumped down from his horse ,drew his dagger, ran heavily towards the dogs , took fromthem the hare that they were tearin in pieces , loadingthem with abuse , plunged the blade 0 his (1 g er in to itsthroat, and , burying it up to the h ilt with a rightful grimace , uttered the usual cry as a sign of victory . Tikon eIvanovitch at that moment came out of the bushes . Ho !ho ! ho ! ho ! ag ain cried Tchertapkan of.

Ho ! ho ! ho ! ho repeated his friend tranquilly.

You really ought n o t to give yourself the pleasure ofhunting at th is season , I said to Tchertapkan of, po intingout to him the field of oats .That field belongs to me, he answered in a breathless

v01ce.

He cut off the hare’s feet , and , throwing them to the dogs,strung the hare to his saddle .“ I owe the shot to you , my frien d , accord in g to huntinglaws,

” he said to Jermolai . As to you, dear sir ,’ he added in

a (

1?tone and jerking l

out his words as usual , “ I thank you.

e remounted his orse.Per— mit me to ask you— I have forgotten— your nameI repeated it to him .

I am happy to make your acquaintance . Whenever youhave a chance , give me the leasure of comin to see me .

But where , then , is our omka , Tikon e van ov itch

he added impatien tly the hare was taken without him .

His horse fell and is dying,” replied Tikone Ivanovitch ,

smil ing.

How so ! Orba ame dead ? Pfou ! pfit ! Where is he ?Yonder , beh in the woods .Tchertapkanof appl ied a blow of his na ika to his

horse ’s sn out , and started off at full speed . ikon e Ivanov itch saluted me twice , on his own accoun t and for hisfriend , and was off, at his usual l ittle trot , into the bushes .These two eccentric persons had stron gly aroused mycuriosity. How could two beings so dissimilar be unitedby the bonds of a close friendship ? I put myself in quest ofinformation , and here is the result ofmy researches .

126 TCHERTAPKANOF AND NEDap oUSKINE.

Pantelei Eréméitch Tchertapkan of passed in the coun tfor a dangerous and strange man , with unbearable pride , anin addition to that, a bully of the worst kind . He hadserved for a short time in the army ; certain disagreeablecircumstances had obliged him to leave the service with therank that has given rise to a well- known saying.

l Hebelonged to an o ld family that formerly had possessed alarge property ; his ancestors l ived magnificently after theman n er of rich seigneurs of the Steppe ; they welcomedindiscriminately all the guests who came and kn ocked attheir door ; their table was overflowing ; even the v isitors‘

horses were fed with aprodig alit that did honor to the

master of the house . T e house old of these hospitabler0prietors was numerous : there were musician s , Singers,Eun tsmen with their packs ; and on fete- days this crowd of

menials was provided with brandy and beer. I n thewinter the possessors of these estates went to Moscow withtheir own horses , in heavy chariots ; but they were often ,at times en tire months , without a shill ing in their purse ;they then lived upon the rov ision s that they had broughtfrom their own estates . an telei Eréméitch’

s father hadinherited an estate already ruin ed , but he led such a merryl ife that when he died he left to his 8011 only the l ittle villag eof Bezson ovo , the population of which consisted of thirtyfive men and sixty - six women , all pledged to the crown , ’

fourteen déciatines andan eig hth ofbadestates in themoorsofKolobradova, a territory ofwhich he could n ot prove thepossession by an t itle . The deceased was ruined in astrange man ner ; e owed it to the way in which he understood domestic economy. Thin king it unworthy of a gen tleman to do business with merchants , bourgeois , and otherbrzjg ands as he called them, he had trained his people to an umber of occupation s that they practised on his account .“ It is much cheaper, and I find it more conven ien t,

” hesaid ; “ it is a good contrivan ce for domestic economy .

”

Sohe persisted in this un fortun ate system to the end of hislife, and it led to his ruin . But he had the sat isfaction of real izing all his whims , and strange enough they

1 . A Russian proverb says : The hen is n ot a bird woman is n ot a humanbein a sub l ieutenan t is not an officer.

"

a . he Russian seigneurs resort , when the are in wan t of fun ds , to an

establishmen t of ore it called Lombard , w ich takes mort g ages on theiresta tes These propert ies are sold at auction if the borrower does n ot fulfil hisobl igat ion s . This establishmen t , which arose in the last cen tury , was authorizedby the governmen t.

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128 TCHERTAPKANOF AND NEDopoUSKI JVE.

foun d himself in a very embarrassing position . To free himself from it he began to pledge his estates to the crown ;soon after he was obl iged to put them up for sale . The lastof his villages , that in which he had built the church withoutthe cupola , and which had been the residen ce of his ancestors , was put up at auction by the governmen t ; but EremeiLoukitch had just died as this sale took place , otherwise itwould certain ly have led to his death . He had the sat isfac

tion of ending his days in his own house , in h is own bed ,surroun ded by his servan ts and under the eyes of his physicians ; but the un fortun ate Pan telei received for his heritag e only the hamlet of Bezson ovo .

When he learned of his father’

s illness , he was with hisregimen t , and was trying to get out of some disagreeableaffairs of which I have spoken above . He was in his

n ineteenth year , and his childhood was passed under thepatern al roof ; his mother, V acilig a V acilievna , a woman of

rare goodness , but very narrow- minded , had indulged himin all his whims , and this weakn ess had had the result thatone might have expected : he had become a regular scamp .

Eremei Loukitch had not troubled himself about his son 'seducat ion ; the care of his estates took up all his time .

On ce on ly he had severely corrected Pan telei with his ownhan ds because he had mispronounced one of the letters ofthe alphabet . But to tell the truth , that day one of his bestgreyhounds had been killed by runnin g again st the trunk ofa tree while cours ing , and this circumstan ce had put him ina bad humor. Moreover, the education that V acilig a V acilievna gave to her son did not require a great effort of mind ;she had dug up an o ld A lsat ian pen sion er, named Birkopf,and to her las t hour she trembled like a leaf o n thinking ofthe embarrassmen t she would find herself in if this men torshould leave them. Nothin more natural . “ I had somuch trouble , she said to fierself, “ in persuading thisworthy in structor to leave the family in which he was en

cd ! How could I replace him? I should be ruined .

”

his uneas in ess had n ot escaped Birkopf’

s pen etration , andl ike a clever man he turn ed his position to account ; he dranklike a fish , and slept from morning t ill night . When Pantelei finished his studies , he en tered the service . V aciliqaV aciliev n a was n o more ; she died before this serious eventin con sequence of a shock : she had seen in a dream a whiteman moun ted on a bear. Her husband soon followed her.As soon as Pan telei learned of his father’s illness he has

TCHERTAPKANOF AND NEDop oUSKINE . 129

ten ed to him , but arrived too late . What was the surpriseof this dutiful son when , instead of being, as he thought ,a rich heir , he saw himself almost reduced to beggary ! Suchblows are always d ifficult to bear. Pan telei became un recog n izable. He was a young man badly brought up and impetuous , but good , honest , and generous . He soon acquired ,and justly, the reputation of an unbearable and querulousman ; he quarrelled with his neighbors , rich and poor : thefirst recal led his position , and he despised the second . Heeven showed very little respect to the authorit ies of thecountry. “ I am,

” he said , “ a n oble of the old school .On e day he nearly shot the Stanovoi because he entered hishouse with his cap on . The funct ionaries whom he so

treated never failed , of course , to treat him in the same wayevery time they had the chance ; yet they did n ot generallycare to come in con tact with him, on accoun t of the extremeirascibil ity of his disposit ion . Hardly had they opened theirmouths to make an observation to himwhen he would propose a duel to the death . A t the sl ightest con tradiction , hiseyes became haggard . Ah g o

—g o—g o—g o , he g enerallysaid in a choking voice, “ I care noth i ng for l ife !

’ and hewas ready for anything. Moreover, he was of an exemplaryprobity and never had any quarrels with

'

ust ice. He l ivedb himself ,— no one came to see him. hatever he was ,t is sin g ular bein was human , and was not wanting in acerta in elevat ion 0 character ; but he put these qualities inpractice in his own way : an injustice , the sl ightest abuse ofpower, revolted him; he defen ded the rights of his peasantswith a firmness truly heroic. How !

" he cried , striking hishead with his fist , do they dare to meddle with mine ! AmI n ot Tchertapkanof I f

As to Tikone Ivan itch Nédopouskin e, he had n ot spch

good reason to be as proud of his extraction as Pan telei Eré

méitch. He was the son of an odn odw retz‘who had on ly

been en nobled at the end of forty years’

service . Nédopouskine the father was one of those men whom misfortun eursues with a fury that seems to rtake of personal hatred .

For sixty years , from the day of is birth to his last hour ,the poor devil had struggled against all the miseries thatare the lot of men of low condition in Russia ; he struggled l ike a fish caught by the ice ; passed sleepless n ights ,

1 . A g en tleman reduced to the con dition of a peasan t , and possessing on lythe house that he lives in .

1 3 0 TCHERTAPKA IVOF AND NEDop oUSKINE.

was lavish of the humblest salutations , and denied h imself the slightest pleasure . A fter l iving thus as a realmartyr

,this really in n ocen t victim of the in justices of his

superiors‘died in a cellar or in a arret , without leaving a

morsel of bread to his children . t was in vain that hestruggled against misfortun e ; l ike a hare taken in a snare ,all h is efforts were of no avail to burst the bonds that enchained him . He was a sensible , hon est man ; though hehad n o scruples about accepting money from suitors whocame to him , he would take ten kopeks to two roubles atthe most . His wife was a consumptive ; he had had severalchildren , but very fortun ately for him they died very young ,with the exception of Tikon e and of a daughter namedMatrona. After pass in

lgthrough many adventures at on ce

g rotesque and pa inful , atron a ended in marryingan advo

cate retired from practice . As to Tikone, his ather hadsucceeded in putting him as a supernumerary in an admin istrat ion of the government ; but he left it as soon as his

father died . The precarious con dition in which he lived ,ever struggling against hunger an d cold , the si ht of hismother’s sufferings , the desperate efforts of his ather , theross proceedings of the lodging- house keepers and shopeepers with whom he dealt , — all these circumstances together had made him extremely timid . Whenever he sawon e of his superiors , he trembled and almost swooned fromfear like a bird that feels itself taken . He g ave up the service . Nature often gives us as our share , with a heedlessness that on e might almost qualify as iron ical , qualities andtastes that have n o relation with our resources and ourmanner of l ife . It was thus that n ature with her usual generosity and solicitude hadmade ofTikone the son of a poorclerk , a sensitive , ben evolent , idle being , without en erg y ,

pleasure- loving, and endowed with an exquisite delicacy ofsmell and taste , and had been pleased to develop in him thesequalities with the greatest care , but yet had condemned himto live upon sour cabbages and putrid fish . Nevertheless hereached man hood ; but fromthat momen t his position in thisworld became of the most curious descript ion . Fate , whichhad n o t ceased to be ag ain st his father , sti ll pursued him ; on e

might say that it was amusing itself with this sport. Butit proceeded with him in a different way : in stead of tortur

1 . I am an in nocen t victim,

"all the Russian fun ctionaries say who are

driven fromthe service.

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1 3 2 TCHERTAPKANOF AND NEDOPOUSKINE.

of his patrons , a rich builder, had n ot taken it in to his head,

one day when he was in a ood humor, to write in his willAs to Leze , called Tikone édopouskine, I bequeath him in

full own ersh ip m village of Besielendelevka with al l itsdependen cies . ome time after, this generous man had astroke of apoplexy on leaving the table. As soon as thenews spread , justice ran to put on its seals , accordin to custom . The relatives arrived ; the will was Open ed , t e reading took place , and Nédopouskine received an order to present himself. He came ; most of the assembled companykn ew the duties he fulfilled n ear his patron , and he was welcomed with a chorus of exclamat ions and ironical con g ratulat ion s .

“The proprietor ! Here is the new proprietor !”

cried the heirs. “We must admit, replied on e of them ,

known for his keen wit and hmmots , there is what maybe called , as you might say , a fine heir. These wordswere received with a un an imous burst of laughter. NédOpouskine could n o t believe his happiness. The willwas shown him he blushed , he began to move his armsabout , and finally burst in to tears. The laughter redoubledand the room re- echoed with the noisy exclamations. Thevillage of Besielendeievka con tain ed on ly twenty- two peasants ; a property of so l ittle importance aroused no envy ,

and the company could enjoy itself to its fil l . On e of theheirs , an inhabitan t o f Petersburg , Rost islaf AdamitchChtoppel , a well- appearing man , with a Greek nose , andwhose regular features were full of dignity , thought it hisduty to take up an other ton e ; he sidled up to Nédopouskin eand said , looking at him with a scorn ful air , “ I thought In oticed , my dear sir , that you held the posit ion ofwit n earthe respected Fedor Fedorov itch , if I may so express myself. The noble Petersburg ian expressed h imself much better than the rest Of the company . Poor Nédopouskine wastoo much affected to catch the sense of these words , whichwere followed by a general s ilen ce ; the man of ban s motsbegan to smile with an approving air. Chtoppel rubbed hishands and repeated his remark . Nédopouskin e opened hismouth and raised his eyes in amazemen t . Rost islaf Ada

mitch ’s face assumed a sarcastic expression .

I congratulate you, m dear sir, I congratulate you , hereplied ; “ it is true that ew people would con sent to makefor themselves a position by the practices that you have n otd isdained . But dc g ustz

’

bus non est dzirputandum whichmean s , each one to his own taste . Is it not true

TCHERTAPlr'

ANOE AND NEDOPOUSKINE. 1 3 3

A person at the bottomof the roomanswered this quest ionwith a cry of aston ishment and admiration .

“Tell me , pray , added ChtOppel , en couraged by the attitude of his hearers , to what kin d of a talent are you part icularly in debted for this unhoped - for favor ? Oh ,

don ’tblush ! Speak ; we are here , so to say , mfamz

‘

lle.

‘ Is it nottrue , gen tlemen , that we are en famz

’

lle?”

He to whom Rost islaf Adamitch had addressed this question unfortunate] did n ot know French , and that is wh hesimply n odded is head affirmatively , and ave a itt le

grunt . But to make amends for this , another eir, a youngman whose forehead was covered with yellowish spots ,hasten ed to answer , Vow

“

, 710m"

.

Perhaps, replied Chtoppel , you can walk on yourhan ds with your feet in the air ?”

The long- sufferin g man looked about him in a despairingway . A mal icious smile was on the faces of al l ; theirlooks sparkled with a cruel joy .

Perhaps you have the talen t of crowin l ike acock ?A general laugh arose among the assem led company , butit was almost immediately suppressed , so much was atten tionaroused.

Who knows ? your n oseEnough cried at that moment some strong resolute

voice?; are you n ot ashamed thus to torment an unhappy

manThey turned about . It was Tchertapkan of, stan din n earthe door . He was a cousin of the deceased in the fourthdegree , and had received a summons . But during the wholemeeting he had kept proudly apart from the rest of the company , according to his habit.

“Cease !” he repeated , throwin g his head proudly back .

ChtOppel turn ed quickly , and seeing a man rather badlydressed , with n o preten ce , asked in a low voice (prudenceis never out of

place) of one of his n eighbors ,

Who is it ?’

Tchertapkan of ; not much of any one , his neighboranswered with the same precaution .

Rostislaf Adamitch resumed his assurance .

Who are you to come and comman d here ? he said in a

nasal ton e , with a wink ; “a fine bird , indeed ! Where doyou come from, permit me to ask you

1 . I t must not be forg ot ten that all the French words in the text , when no

n ote explains them, are in French in the original .

1 3 4 TCHERTAPKANOE AND NEDOPOUSKINE.

Tchertapkan of blazed up like a packa e of powder in contact with a match . He became so besi e himself with rag ethat he could n ot breathe .

Te- te - te he said with an effort as he choked but almostimmediatel

yin a thun dering voice : Who am I ? where do I

come from I am of n oble stock , and my n ame is Pan teleiTchertapkan of ; my g reat - gran dfather served at the court ofthe Tzars . And you , who are you ?

Rost islafAdamitch rew pale and made a step backward .

He n ever expected suc an explosion .

I— a bird ! a bird — oh ! oh ! ohTchertapkan of rushed on him but Chtoppel avoided himwith the greatest agitation , and the company threw themselves before the en raged proprietor.

A duel ! a duel in stan tly, an d at the len g th of a handkerchief cried Tchertapkan of with rag e ; otherwise beg mypardon and his .

Do it , do it !” all the heirs who surroun ded Chtoppel

hasten ed to say with fright. He is mad ! Hewill cut yourthroatPardon ! pardon ! I d id n ot know, stammered Chtoppel ;I d id n ot kn ow .

”

A nd his,” replied the pit iless Pan telei .

I also ask your pardon , added Rost islafAdamitch, turnin

gto Nédopouskine, who was trembling like a leaf.chertapkanof calmed down , and oin g up to Tikon e

I van itch , took himby the han d , looketfboldly at the assembled company , and meeting n o look in return , solemn ly leftthe room, in the midst of a profoun d silen ce , in compan ywith the happy proprietor of the hamlet ofBesielendelevka .

From that momen t they became in separable . (The hamlet in uest ion was about eight verstes from Bezson ovo .)The fee in g of gratitude with which Tchertapkan of

’

s con

duct had in spired NédOpouskin e was changed little by litt lein to a kind of adoration . This weak man , whose con sciencewas n ot absolutely clear, adored the fearless and loyal Tchertapkanof.

“ It is n ot a little thin g, he often said , to speakwith the Govern or and dare to look him in the face. Oh,

just Heaven ! yet he does it . He admired him immoderately and with all the strength of his n ature ; he lookedupon him as an extraord in ary man , of superior in telligen ceand very learn ed . The fact was that Tchertapkan of

’

s education , en t irely n eglected as it had been , would have passed fora brill ian t on e in comparison with that which his frien d had

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1 3 6 TCHERTAPKANOE AND NEDOPOUSKINE.

weather, and were giving way in several places ; the chimneywas half in ruin s ; the corners of the house were rotten and

disjoin ted ; the win dows , with little blu ish squares lookin gout at the side of the door , had something melan choly thataccorded very well with the dilapidated roof of this sad edi

fice ; they recalled the dull bloodshot eyes of old beggars .I kn ocked at the door ; n o one an swered . Yet there wastalking within , and I could make out the following words :“A , b , c ; come , fool said a hoarse voice . A , b , c , d,

zhat

’

s n ot the way ! D , e , p,— yes , p , p. Catch it ; come , n ow,

001 l”

I knocked a second time . The same voice cried out to

me , Come in ! Who’s there ?

I wen t into a l ittle dark vest ibule , and, the door of thenext room bein g open , I saw Tchertapkan of h imself . Hewas seated on a chair, in large trousers , a boukhare dressinggown covered with spots , and had a red cap on his head ; hewas pressing with on e han d the snout of a young span iel , andwith the other had a piece of bread that he was putting on

his n ose.“Ah !

” he exclaimed with dign ity, and without chan ginhis position ,

“ I am charmed to see you . Please be seateI am giving V inzor a lesson , as you see . Tikon e Ivan itch ,

he added , raising his voice , come here ! some on e has

come. ”

Coming ! coming answered Tikone Ivan itch from the

n ext room . Macha , give me my trousers.Tchertapkan of resumed his teachin and put back thepiece of bread on the dog’s n ose . looked about me .

There were in the room on ] an o ld table with leaves , threeof its feet being of unequa leng th , and four broken strawchairs ; the walls were painted white, with little spots thatonce represented stars ; a d im broken mirror , in a woodenframe in imitation ofmahogany , was hung between the twowindows ; several gun s , and pipes with long stems , could besec

l

n in the corner ; enormous spider- webs hun g from thecmin“Agb, c , d , p , said Tchertapkan of slowly ; then he sud

den ly cried out , makin g one of the strangest contortions,

A t it ! eat, fool ! eat , then l”

But the un fortun ate span iel hesitated to obey. He sat

sadl still , his ta il between his legs , his nose down , andbl in ed with a resign ed air ; he seemed to say“ Indeed I kn ow that you are the master.

TCHERTAPKANOE AND NEDOPOUSKI IVE. 1 3 7

Come , eat , then ! Here , take it , resumed the pitilessTchertapkan of.“You have made himafraid , I said to him.

Well , let him go to the devilHe pushed him with his foot . The poor an imal roseslowly , let the piece o f bread fall , and walked towards thevest ibule , putting down his feet with as much caut ion as i fhe were walking on tiptoe ; he appeared profoun dly humiliated . What a way to treat him before a strange person whosaw him for the first time !The door of the n ext room opened so ftly , and Nédopouskine entered with a smile on his l ips and bowing.

I rose and bowed in my turn .

Don ’t disturb yourself, don’t d isturb yourself, he stam

mered .

We sat down , andTchertapkanofwent into the other room.

Have you been pleased to visit our plain s long Nedopouskine asked me in a sweet voice , caut iously coug hingbehind his hand , and con tinuin g to cover his mouth with hisfingers for a few momen ts out of politeness.

Nearly two months .

“ Indeed !”

A few minutes ’ silence followed these words.“ It is very pleasan t to - day , resumed Nédopouskine, andhe looked at me with a grateful air, as if the weather depended on me . The crops are really extraordin ary.

I bowed assen t , and conversation again stopped .

Pan telei Eréméitch was pleased to kill two hares yesterday , soon resumed Nédopouskin e, who was trying to eu

l iven our interview ; es , two enormous hares .Are Tchertapkano

’

s dogs goodWonderful !” eagerly answered Nédopouskine,

“you maysay they are the best in the government .

”

He approachedme . That ’s nothing aston ishing. Pan telei Ereméitch isa man without his equal . All that he wishes , all that comesin to his head , is done . Imagine that Pan telei Eréméitch isa manPan telei en tered the room at this moment. Nédopouskine was silent and indicated him with his eyes , smiling, asif to say to me , You may satisfy yourself of it . ” We beg anto talk of hunt ing.

Do you wish me to show you my pack asked Tchertapkan of; and without awaiting my answer, he called Karp ,one of his servants.

1 3 8 TCHERTAPNANOE AND NEDOPOUSNJNE.

Karp came to his master. He was a large fellow in a greennan keen kaftan with a blue collar and l ivery buttons .“Go and tell Fomka,

”

Tchertapkan of said to him in a

jerky ton e , “ to brin g Ammalat and Saiga here ; but leteverything be in order , do you un derstan d ?

”

A smile contracted Karp’s large mouth , and he made an

in articulate soun d as he left the room. Fomka did not keepus waiting long ; he appeared , carefully laced , combed , andin boo ts , and with two houn ds . To be polite , I began to admire these dog s , who , l ike all of this species , showed littleintelligen ce. Tchertapkan of spat in Ammalat

’

s n ostri ls , andI must say , by the way , that the dog did n ot show muchsatisfaction at it . NedOpouskin e patted Ammalat

’

s back .

We resumed the conversation . Tchertapkanof soften edlittle by l ittle ; he stopped posin g as a brave man , and dilated h is nostrils ; the expression of his features completelychanged . He looked at me and at his frien d .

Ah !” he exclaimed sudden ly , why leave her by herself ?

Macha ! Hey ! Macha, come here .

I heard some one move in the next room , but no one ap

peared.

Ma— a— cha, cried Tchertapkan of in a caressing voice ,come here . It is nothing ; don

’t be afraid .

The door Opened softly , and a young women of twenty ,tall and slen der, entered the room ; she had the olive com

plexion of the Bohemians , brown eyes , and hair as black 3

Jet , full red l ips , and teeth of a brill ian t whiteness . Her

costume con sisted of a white dress and blue shawl , fasten edat the n eck by a gold pin ; her delicate hands showed goodblood . A fter advan cing a few steps with the timid ity andawkwardn ess ofa savage , she stopped and cast down her eyes .Let me presen t her to you ,

” said Pan telei Eréméitch .

It is my wife , i f you like .Macha blushed a little , and smiled to con ceal her embar

rassmen t . I greeted her respectfully. She pleased me verymuch . A very sharp aquil in e nose, nostrils tran sparent andsl ightly dilated , eyebrows well drawn , cheeks pale and a littlehollow ,

— in a word , all her features den oted quick passionsand the most perfect z

'

n soucz‘

an ce. Over her neck and below

fier hair there g rew little curly locks , a sign of streng t h andealth.

She went to the window and sat down . I began to talkwith Tchertapkan of, so as n ot to increase her embarrassmen t . Macha turn ed her head a little on one side , glan cing

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14o TONERTAPKANOE AND NEDOPOUSKINE.

Half an hour after you would n ot have recognized us

We were chattering and jokin g like great children . Machaespecially was won derfully gay . Tchertapkanof devouredher with his eyes acha’s color became brighter, her n ostrils dilated . her look was at on ce dark and flash ing. Theoung savage was n o longer herself. Nédopouskine hobled along behind her on his flat feet , l ike a duck in ursuit

of its mate. Poor V in zor himself took part in it . e leftthe bench under which he had fled in the vest ibule , and saton the door- sill . He looked at us for a few moments , andsuddenly began to jump about , barking. Macha ran in to thenext room, brought her

guitar, threw off her shawl sat down

vivaciously , raised her ead , and sang a Bohemian son g .

Her loud tremolo voice recalled the vibration s of a g lassbell . She sang forth with passion , then her voice died away.

It was impossible n ot to succumb to the charm of her pas

sionate accents . A‘

i’ brute , l isten to me ! Tcherta kan of

began to dance ; Nédopouskin e stamped his feet ; achaquivered all over, l ike birch - bark in the middle of a fire ;her slender fingers ran over the chords of her guitar, herswarthy throat slowly raised the large beads of her ambernecklace . Sudden ly she stopped her song and sank downcompletely tired out , but continued to strike softly thechords of her g uitar.Tchertapkan of l isten ed . He simply shrugged his shoulders a l ittle without stirring from his place , and Nédopouskin e shook h is head like a grotesque Chin ese figure . ButMacha soon began with n ew ardor, and Tchertapkan ofwent at it more than ever ; he touched the floor raisedhimself to the ceil ing, pirouetted l ike a teetotum , cry ing out,Come ! fasterFaster ! faster repeated NédOpouskin e warmly .

It was late in the even ing when I left Bezson ovo . An

oth

ézr time I will tell Macha

’s history to my indulgentrea ers.

TNE PRAIRIE. 14 1

CHAPTER XI .

THE PRA I RIE.

ITwas a day in July ; one of those days that on e sees whenit has been fin e for a long time . From daybreak the skyis clear ; the dawn does not brighten it up l ike a vast conflag rat ion , it colors it with a purplish t inge of extremedelicacy ; the sun does not look like a ball Of red fire asduring the time of great droughts , nor has it that flamecolored tinge that it takes before a storm , but a short radian t brill ian cy : it comes slowly out of a long thin cloud , andafter merrily shining for a few momen ts is lost in a purplishmist . The transparen t border of the upper part of the cloudis covered with little bright silvery veins . But n ow the raysof the sun begin to flash forth , and the great luminary risesmajestically it seems as if borne into the air. Towards themiddle of the day a large n umber of rounded , very highclouds of a golden gray with a thin white border generally appear ; l ike islan ds scattered in the middle of a riverwith its waves of a l impid transparent blue they scarcelymove . Farther on they meet, press against each other,and l ittle by l ittle the bands of blue that separatethem have disappeared . But like the sky itself. they stillseem en tirely impregn ated with heat and light. Thehorizon is of a palish l ilac , and this un iform tinge remainsthe same throughout the day . Not the slightest in dicationof a storm , but here and there blu ish rays fal l perpen dicularlyfrom the sky ; it is an almost imperceptible rain wateringthe soil . In the even ings all the clouds disappear on e byone ; the last of them, with their vague , blackish outl ines ,l ike clouds of smoke , spread out in little roseate flakes abou tthe setting sun . In the very place where it has disappearedas peacefully as it arose , a purplish l ight springs up for a fewmin utes above the earth that is becoming darker. Soonafter, the evening star appears a l ittle higher ; it flashes outand then fades suddenly , only to flash out ag ain , l ike a l ight

142 THE PRA I RIE.

cautiously moved . On those days the most vivid colorshave n o brill iancy ; everyt hing is soften ed and seems to beara certain impress ofmodesty . The heat is often in tense ; att imes even a burning mist rises up o n the hill- sides , but itis driven away by the win d that bears it Off afar , and rapideddies , sure sign s of lasting fine weather, rush in their whitecolumn s over fields and roads. The atmosphere is clear ; inthe country there is a mingled odor of wormwood , mownrye, and buckwheat. There is n o trace of dampn ess in theair

,even an hour before n ight falls . Such is the weather

for which the farmer sighs when he is preparing to cut h iscorn .

It was on such a day as this that I was shooting grouse inthe district of Tchern , a part of the Governmen t of Toula .

I had had very g ood shooting , andmy game- bag was so fullthat it was cutting my shoulder unmercifully. A lready theevenin twil ight was dying out , and darkn ess , more and

more en se and cold , began to spread through the atmosphere still bright , though no longer crossed by the rays ofthe sun . I decided to wen d my way home . A fter passingrapidly over a plain covered with bushes , I ascended a littlehill ; but in stead of the plain that I had so often wanderedover, with l ittle oak woods on the right and a small whitechurch on the left , I d iscovered objects and places that wereen tirely unknown to me . A t my feet stretched a n arrowvalley ; straight before me stood up, l ike a wall , a wood oftufted aspens . I stopped much surprised . Ah I said tomyself, try ing to find out where I was , “ I ought n ot to havecome this way ; I have gon e too much to the right . Muchvexed at this error , I wen t hast ily down the h ill . I immediately felt a disagreeable sen sation the air was heavy anddamp as in a cellar ; the thick , high grass that covered thebottom of the valley was wet and looked as whi te as a sheet ;it was with a pain ful feel in g I stepped down in to it . Ihastened to get out of it as qu ickly as I could , and, turn ing tothe left I wen t along through the woods . Bats were alreadydescribin g mysterious circles above the tops of the trees

,

and their wavering fl ight was outlined on the backgroundof the sky , which darkn ess was already invadin g . A l ittlebelated sparrow- hawk passed rapidly in a straight lin e abovethe woods ; he was hasten ing back to his n est. When Ireach the other side of the plain , I said to myself, “ I shallprobably find the road ; I have gone a good verste at leastout of my way .

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I 44 THE PRA I RIE.

peet of this silent , stifl ing place , above which the sky seemedsadly suspended , opg

ressed me . A plaintive cry from someanimal came from t e stones . I hurried back to the top ofthe hill. Up to that t ime I had not lost all hope of aga infindin g my way, but now I knew that I was lost ; and, n o

longer trying to recognize the places about , which , moreover,were entirely buried in darkn ess , I went along at random,

taking the stars as a guide . I walked along in this way forabout half an hour with much fatigue. It seemed to methat I had n ever seen such a deserted country : no noise inthe n eighborhood , not a light in the d istance ; one hill succeeded another, fields stretched out indefin itely, bushesstarted up suddenly, almost un der my nose . A fter walkin galong for some time , I was preparing to lie down , n o matterwhere, un til daylight, when I saw that I was o n the edge of

a precipice.

I quickly drew back , and peered attentively through thehalf- transparent darkness that was about me. A n immen selain appeared in dist inctly before my eyes ; it was boundedfly a large wind ing river whose surface in places threw outa metall ic reflection which permitted one to follow its course .The height on which I was went down almost perpendicularly ; it stood out l ike a gigan tic profile in the bluishbackground of the sky. Opposite, in the angle that theplain formed near a poi n t where the quiet river was like adark mirror, two l ittle fires appeared at the very foot of thehill ; the burned and smoked at a little distan ce from eachother. bout them were several men whose shadows movedslowly to and fro ; at times a l ittle head with curly hair wassuddenly li

Ig hted up.

At last knew where I was ; the place was called in the

coun try about , the Pro! Bq’

fz’

ne. Itwas imposs ible to th ink ofreturn ing home that night, and yet I was ready to drop fromfat igue . I determined to approach the fires and there awaitthe break of day with these men , whom I took for drovers .I descended the height without acciden t ; but I had n o

sooner let go of the bran ches to which I was clinging thantwo white dogs with bristl ing hair jumped out at me ,

barking furiously. The soun d of several shrill voices re

echoed near the fires , and two or three boys started up. Ian swered their shouts . They ran towards me , and immediately called off the dogs , who were especially surprised att l

fie unexpected apparition of my Diana. I went towardst em .

TNE PRA I RIE. 145

I was m istaken in taking them at a distance for droversthey were simple l ittle peasants from a neighborin g villag e ,and were watching a herd of horses . At the time of thegreat heat, with us , horses are left in the great plains duringthe n ight ; they would be too much tormented by gnats andfl ies in the daytime . The children make a fete of drivingthe horses in the even ing and bringing them back in the

morn ing. Bareheaded and wearing an Old frock , they bestride the swiftest colts and rush forth with shou ts andnoisylaughter ; they swing their feet and their hands they jumpin the a ir and kick about in the midst of the long column ofyellowish dust that rises up on the road . This joyous uproar spreads through the country ; horses run , with cars

pricked up ; at the head gallops , tail in the air and con tin ually changing from one foot to the other, a shaggy cob, withhis mane full of thistles .I told the children that I was lost, and sat down by their

side . They asked me where I came from , and when I toldthem they became silen t and moved away a little . Againwe exchanged some words ; then I stretched myself under abush almost ent irely without leaves , and looked about me.

The sight was mag nificen t : above the fires a bright circleoscillating incessan tly stood out in rel ief in the midst of thedarkness ; the flame on rising threw out at in tervals flashesof light beyon d this space it was l ike a little tongue of firethat seemed to lick one of the surrounding branches , andalmost immediately van ished ; slender shadows stood upfrom time to time and stretched to the borders of the fires ;l ight was struggling with darkn ess . When the brillian cy ofthe flame was less vivid , the circle of light that surroun dedthe fires grew n arrower, darkness came nearer, and then thehead of a bay , brown , or white horse sudden ly came out of

it , looked at us attentively with dull eyes , while greedilychamping a long tuft of grass , then stooped and ag ain disappeared ; only the noise that it made while eating and

snorting was still heard . Near the fires it was impossible todistinguish anything in the darkness that enveloped us , butin the distan ce appeared indistin ctly long blackish spots :they were little h ills and woods . The vault of heaven wasclear and deep ; it was unroll ing majestically and at a greatheight its mysterious splendor . On e breathed with happin ess this fresh perfumed air, - the air of a summer n i ht inRussia. Scarcely any noise disturbed the silence . met imes on ly , in the river that was running near us , a larg e

146 TNE PRA I RIE.

fish leaped out of the water , and the rushes on theban k , softly swayed by the l ittle waves it left behin d it,caused a slight rustl in g to be heard . The fires were stillburn in but one could scarcely hear their crackling.

The oys were seated about the fires with the two dog sthat had nearly eaten me u

p. It was a long time before

these dogs could accustom t emselves to my presence , andwhile glancing askan ce at the fire , with a sleepy look , theygrowled now and then with a very evident feeling of person al dign ity ; they growled and then uttered l ittle moan s ,as if the regretted the impossibil ity of at ify in g their desires . he boys were five in number : edia , Pav louchka ,

I liouchka , Kost ia, and V avia . It waswhile l isten ing to the irtalk that I learned their names, and I will n ow present themto my readers .The first , and eldest of all , Fedia , appeared to be aboutfourteen . He was a well - shaped boy , with features perhapsa l ittle too del icate , but pleasan t ; his hair was long andcurly , his eyes lig ht ; a smi le at on ce v e and playful wasperpetually on h is l ips . He must have elon g ed to a wel lto - do family , and was not there from duty , but pleasure.

He wore a calico shirt of a color bordering on yellow ; a newarmiak was thrown over him, and set badly o n his n arrowshoulders ; a horn hung at his blue belt . The boots that hehad on his feet were made for him, and not for his fatheras is often the case in our coun try . The secon d boy , Pavlouchka , had black hair stan ding up straight , gray eyes , prominen t cheek- bones , a pale face marked by the small- pox, a

large but regular mouth, a very large head , and Slender l imbsbadly joined to his body. He was an ordinary- lookingboy ,

andyet he pleased me verymuch ; he had an open , intell igen tlook , and the ton e of his voice denoted en erg y. H is cos

tume was not spruce ; it con sisted of a coarse sh irt and

threadbare l in en trousers . The features of the third wererather in significan t : he had a hooked nose , a lon g , sleepyface , and his whole coun tenan ce expressed a kin d of sicklyan xiety ; his pin ched lips were firm , his kn itted eyebrowsmet ; he seemed to keep his eyes continually fastened on thefire. H is yellowish , almost white hair came out in poin tedlocks from ben eath a l ittle fur cap that he always keptpulled down o n his ears . Hewore lapt i anda new on outO/iz

'

fa thick cord twisted three times about his body belted on his

1 . A lon g ban d of linen or cot ton which the peasan ts tie around their leg s.

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148 TNE PRA IRIE.

This was theway of it : Once it ha pened to us , m lfand my brother, as well as to Fedo r of ikaievo and to ft

s

r

e

an

the Squint- eyed, and to the other Ivan , who is from the

Belles Co ll ines , and to Ivachka the Dry- Hand , and to stillo ther boys , in all a dozen ,

— the whole g ang. We chan cedthen to pass the night in the g laz ing- room— that is , it wasn ot by chance , but by order of the In s etor Nasaroff. He

said to us , Wh should you g o home, ys ? there is a greatdeal of work or to morrow. So , boys , you had betternot g o home .

’

So we stayed , andwe all la down on thefloor to ether. But sudden ly Avdiouch a said to us ,‘What i the Domov i should appear, boys ?

’

He had n o

sooner said this than some one beg an to walk above us , upsta irs , nearthe wheel . We l istened . Hewalked the boardsbent, creaking under his feet ; he passed above the placewhere we were ; and then the water began to make a n oise ;the wheel also turned , it beg an to g o round and round , andyet the sluice - gates were lowered . We wondered who couldhave raised them up to let the water through l ike that . Thewheel , after turning round , stopped . The walking beg anagain above us , started to come down the stairs , and camedown as if in n o hurry ; the steps creaked un der it . It approached the door ; it stopped and waited . Suddenly thedoor opened wide. We were paralyzed with fear. We

looked in : it was gone . And then we saw the sieve of

on e of t e boi lers move ; it rose up higher and higher, itwavered in the air as though some one was moving it , andreturned ag ain to its place. And then , at an other boiler, ahooked stick jumped up , and fell back in its place ; andthen again we seemed to hear some one near the door, andsuddenly it beg an to cough , to cough l ike a sheep, — it

’

s t rue .

We then huddledto ether. Ah , we had a pretty night of itInd

Peed! said av louchka . Why did he beg in to

con hdon ’t know ; perhaps on accoun t of the dampness.

The children were silen t .Are the potatoes bo iled ? asked Fedia.

Pav louchka felt of them .

“No , they are still hard . Ah ! how that fellow jumped !he sa id , turning to the river ; it must be a pike. There isa lit t le shootin g - star.

”

Brothers , listen to what I am goin to tell you, saidKost ia in a shrill voice. “Listen we this is what myfather toldbeforeme the otherday.

”

TNE PRA IRIE. 149

We will listen to you, said Fedia with a patronizing

You knowGav rila , the carpenter ofSlaboda ?Oh yes, we know him .

Do you know why he is n ot cheerful , why he is alwayss ilent ? Do you know ? I will tell you why . Hewen t one day ,father told us , brothers , to look for nuts , in the woods .he started out nuttin g ; but he lost his way : he fell,

God knows where. He kept walking , walking, brothers.No ! still he did n ot find his way , and it was already gettingdark . A t last he sat down un der a tree .

‘I will wait ,’ he

said , ‘for daylight.’

He sat down and fell asleep. So thenhe slipt ; but he sudden ly heard some one call him . He

looke There was nothing ! He again fell asleep ; againsome one called him . He again began to look about ; helooked for a long time , and he saw before hiip a Roussalka )perched on a branch ; she was swinging to and fro , shouti n g with laughter ; yes , she was laughing. The moonwas full , and shon e bri ht ly ; o ne could see everything.

The Roussalka called to im. and still sat there , very whiteand glittering, o n a branch , l ike a pretty little gudgeon , youwould say , or a very silvery Oarassz

‘

n . The carpen ter Gavrilawas paralyzed, brothers ; and she still con tin ued to laugh ,making a motion of her hand to him like that , cal l ing him .

Gavrila was just about to rise ; he was going to obey theRoussalka, brothers , but the Lord sen ds him an in spiration ,

as we must believe . He crossed himself, but n ot withoutt rouble ; he said that his hand was like marble , he couldhardly move it. What do you think of that , eh ! But he hadscarcely crossed himself, brothers , when the pretty Roussalka stopped laughing and sudden ly began to weep ; andhow she wept ! And when she wept , brothers , she wiped hereyes with her hair , and her hair was as green as hemp. A nd

then Gavrila looked at her, looked at her, and began to ask

her, Why , being of the woods , do you weep like that ?’ The

Roussalka an swered him, You should n ot have crossed yourself , man ; you could have lived with me , in pleasure and joy ,to the end of your days . If I weep , if I grieve , it is becauseyou have crossed yourself . And I will n ot grieve alon e

you

also , you shall l ive in trouble to the end of your days .’ a

in g said this, brothers , she disappeared, and Gavrila immedi

x. Wicked fairies of the forests and rivers .

150 TNE PRAIRIE.

ately remembered how he could get out of thewoods. On lyever Since that da he has been sad.

“ Indeed !” sai Fedia. after a momen t’

s s ilence. Buthow can such vileness ruin a Christian soul , especially as hedid n ot l isten to her

Ah ! in faith , I know nothing of that, said Rostia,

“an d

Gavrila pretends that her voice was so soft, so plaintive ,l ike a frog

’

s .Andyour father said this ? asked Fedia.

Yes , in deed . I was lying in the loft ; I heard everythinft is astonishing ! Why should he be so sad? But he

appeared to have pleased her , Since she called him .

Yes , pleased her , indeed interrupted I liouchka. Ah ,

yes in deed ! She wished to tickle him to death ; that’s

what she wished . That ’s their business , the Roussal9 ”

kas

But there must be Roussalkas here also , observedFedia.No , answered Kost ia ,

“this is an Open place. Butthe river is n ot far away.

They were silent . A prolonged , harsh , almost plaintivesound sudden ly arose in the distance ; it

‘ was one of thoseincomprehen sible soun ds that sometimes arise in the n ight ,in the midst of a deep silen ce , that seems to remainmotionless for a moment in the air, then slowly vibratesand dies away . You listen : the sound is imperceptible an d

yet it exists . Onewould thin k that a prolonged cry hadbeenuttered at the horizon , and that some one had answered itin the woods with a shrill penetrating laugh . A gentlerustle ran over the river. The startled children looked ateach other.May the Cross protect us muttered Il ia.Ah ! you ravens cried Pavel “what are you tremblin g

at ? See, the potatoes are boiled .

They all went up together to the kettle , and began to eat

the smoking potatoes . V ania alone d id n ot stir.“He aren ’t you coming ?” said Pavel to him .

But ania d id n ot come out from un der his mat . Thekettle was soon empty .

A nd have you heard , be g an I liouchka, what happenedwith us at V arnav itsi, the other day

On the dam asked Fedia.

Yes, yes , at the dam that has been taken away. It was

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152 TNE PRA IRIE.

heard ; the horse stopped abruptly n ear the fire, and Pav el ,seiz ing him by the mane , jumped quickly to the groun d .

The two dog s also came back in to the bright circle and laydown , hanging out their red ton gues .What was the matter onder the children asked .

Nothing,”

an swered avel , driving away his horse withhis hand ; the dogsmust have scen ted something. I thoughtit was a wolf,

” he added in an indifferent tone , but quite outof breath .

I had taken a fanc to Pav louchka. He looked well atthat moment . His eatures were not handsome , but therapid chase that he had just made brighten ed them up ;they expressed an audacious courage and resolut ion .

Though he had not even a stick , he had not hesitated torush out into the darkness alone again st awolf. Brave boy !I thought , still looking at him .

“You did not see any wolves , then ? asked the timidKost ia.

There are always a great man y about here , an sweredPavel , but they are on ly troublesome in winter.

”

He again ap roached the fire . In takin his place , helean ed his ban on the shagg y neck of one o the dogs

, who ,

flattered by th is famil iarity , stood perfectly still for a lon gt ime without moving his head , but he looked sideways at

Pav louchka with an expression of pride and sat isfact ion .

V ania again crawled under the mat .

What frightful things you have told us , I liouchka saidFedia , who , as the son of a rich peasant, took upon himsel fthe rights of interlocutor (he spoke l ittle himself, as if afraidof taking away from his dign ity) .

“The devil then madethe dogs bark . I have indeed heard that th is place washaunted .

“V arnav itsi ? I should think so ! A nd howbad the placestill is ! More than on ce they have seen , I can assure you ,

the old master, the dead man . He walks , they say , in akaftan with long skirts . and he s ighs in cessan t l l ike th is ;he is seeking for something, I kn ow n o t what . n ce fatherTrafime met him . What are you pleased to be looking for,father Ivan Ivanovitch he asked him .

He asked him that said Fedia in amazement.Yes .

Really , Trafime is a fine fellow ! Andwhat did he answer

TNE PRA I RIE.153

I am looking for the mag ic herb ,’ he said but he said

‘the magic herb ’

so low— l ike that. ‘And what do you

wan t with this herb , father Ivan Ivanovitch ‘It sulfocates me ; the earth suffocates me , Trafime. I wish to leaveit ; es , very

much .

’

ndeed remarked Fedia ; then he had not , it seems ,l ived long enoug h .

It is astonishing ! said Kost ia ; I thoug ht that the deadwere only to be seen on the Saturday of Commemorat ion .

You can see the dead any time , said I liouchka withassuran ce , who , as far as I could make out , knew the populartradition s better than all the others ; “but on the Saturdayof Commemoration you can also see the living— that is tosay , the persons who are to die that year. You have only tosit in the peristyle of the church and look at the road .

Those who must die that year you will see pass by. OldOuliana was under the ristyle last year.

Ah, indeed Did SE:see any one asked Kost ia withcuriosity.

Certa inly . At first she was there a long time withouthearing or seeing any one ; on ly from time to t ime she hearda do g bark , far away, very far away. Suddenly she looked :a child in a shirt passed along the road . She examin ed itit was Ivachka Fedoceief.

”

“The onewho died last sprin interrupted Fedia.

The very one . He walke without raising his head .

But Ouliana recog n ized him . She sti ll looked : a womanwas coming along. She examined her, examin ed her well.God ! Lord! it was she herself coming along ! Oulianaherself .“ Indeed ? asked Fedia.

As there is a God, it was she herself !Well, she is not yet dead .

”

The year is not yet through ; but look at ber,— has shelol3ls to l ive ?

”

he children ag ain became silent. Pavel threw an armful of dry bran ches on the fire . They quickly blacken ed oncoming in contact with the flame that suddenly rose up ,and began to crackle and smoke and twist and curlup their burnt ends. The quivering light of the firesspread out in every direction in the air. A pigeon just

2. Popular superstition that attributes to an herb the power of overcomin gall obstacles.

154 TNE PRAIRIE.

startled out from God knows where , in the ve middle of

this bright column , turn ed round and round timi ly, and d isappeared flappin

g lits win g s.

He seems to ave lost his home , remarked Pavel . He

will fly to some place or other, and then he will sleep un tildaybreak .

Tell me , Pav louchka , said Kost ia is it not the soul ofsome just person flying to heaven ?Pavel threw another lot of branches on the fire.Perhaps ,

” he said to his companion .

Pray tell me , Pav louchka,” asked Fedia, did you also see

at your place the celestial apparitionWhen there was n o sun to be seen ? Yes, certainly.You must have been very much frightened .

We were not the only on es afraid . Ourmaster, who hadspoken to us of this before , when it began to et dark becameafraid . Ah ! you should have seen him ! nd in the isba

,

the cook , as soon as the apparition a peared, broke with apoker all the dishes in the oven .

‘W 0 will eat n ow ? ’ shesa id ; ‘the end of the world has come . ’ Soup ran in everydirection . Andwith us , brothers , in the villag e. you shouldhave heard them ! On e would have thought that the whitewolves were about to appear on the earth and eat up mankin d that birds of prey were about to al ight , and thatTrichka‘ himself was about to appear.

What Trichka ? asked Kost ia.

You don ’t know ? said I liouchka eag er] Where doyou come from brother, if you don

’t know richka Youare blockheads in the village , regular blockheads ! Trichka !he is a very strange beingwho will appear on the earth amanso strang e that he can not be taken , and with whom they cando noth i ng ; he will be a very won derful man . The peasantswould l ike to capture him, I suppose they will go out

again st him with sticks , they will surround him ; but hewill throw them in to con fus ion so that they wi ll begin to

kill each other. They will put him in prison , for example ;he will ask for water in a little cup ; they will bring him a

cup ; he will vanish , then he will reappear. They will load himwith chains ; he will st rike his hands and his chains will fal loff. This Trichka will pass throug h the town s and villag esand Trichkawill be an evil mam— hewill deceive the Chris

1 . A tradition , doubt less, about antichrist.

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156 TNE PRA IRIE.

ravine ,— to the place where it is steep , you know . There isa hole full ofwater there , en tirely surrounded by rushes .

As I wen t bythis hole , some o ne sig hed in the pool , but

Oh , so sadly ‘Ou—ou—ou—ou.

’ I was overcome with fear,brothers ; it was late , and the voice was so plain t ive ; plaintivego such a degree that I n early wept myself. What could

it beLast year , in that hole , robbers drown ed the forester

Akin e , observed Pavlouchka. Perhaps it is his soul groaningPerhaps so , said Kost is , Open in his eyes , already very

lar I d id n ot kn ow that they ha drowned Akine in theho e ; I would have been still more frig htened .

They say that there are little frogs who cry l ike that ina plaintive tone , con t in ued Pavel .Frog s ? No , it was n o t a frog. Come n ow (again the

heron ’s cry on the water) . Ah ah said Rostia involuntaril that must be the cry of the LOO/ii . ”

e Lechi does n ot cry ; it is dumb , said I liouchka.

It only strikes its hands and clacks with its ton gue.You have seen the Lechi , then said Fed ia ironica lNo , I have not seen it , andGodpreserve me from it !

Others have seen it . The other day it jo in ed a peasant andled him through the woods , and up and down about thesame field . He could hardly g o home at daybreak .

”

And he saw himYes . He said itwas tall , very tall and dark . He crouched

down behind a tree ; you could not make him out . Heseemed to be hid ing from the moon , and he gazed , gazedwith his large eyes— hewin ked he win ked .

“Ah said Fedia , pressing his shoulder- blades together,fou !pWhy has such a brood as that spread over the earth

remarked Pavel ; “ it seems strange to me.

”

No abuse ! take care , it will hear ,” said I liouchka.

On ce more there was silen ce .

Look there ! see , brothers l” cried V ania sudden ly , in his

child ish voice ; “look at the stars of the good God! theymove about like bees . ”

He put out his l ittle fresh face from beneath his mat ,lean ed on his elbow , and slowly raised his large calm eyes t o

1 . Spirit of thewoods.

TNE PRAI RIE. 157

the heavens. All the ch ildren did the same , and remainedso for a few moments.

I as V ania , amicably repl ied Fedia , “ is your sisterAn ouch a well ?

”

Yes, answered V ania with a sl ight stammer.

Ask her why she does n ot come and see us , then .

I don’t know.

Tell her to come.I will tell her. ”

Tell her I will bring her a present .Andme also ?

”

Yes .V an ia sighed .

Oh no , I don’t wish any .

‘

Rather give it to her ; she issuch a ood girl . ”

And ania again placed his l ittle head on the ground.

Pavel arose and took the empty kettle.

Where are you going Fedia asked him .

To the river, for a l ittle water. I wan t a drink .

The dog s rose and followed h im .

Take care , don’t fall into the water I liouchka shouted

after him.

Why should he fall ? said Fedia, he will be careful .Hewill be careful ? That’s easy enough to say : all kin ds

of things might hap 11 When he stoops over to draw thewater, the Vodz

’

anoi‘ mi ht seize h im by the hand and draw

him in . Then they wou d say , He fell in , the child ; he fellinto the river. ’ A n ice kind of a fall ! There he is going intothe rushes ; there he is , he added , l istening.

The rushes ve out a dull no ise.Is it true,

’

asked Kost ia, that the idiot Akoulin a hasbeen like that sin ce shewas under the water

Yes , just as she is now. And they say she was beautifulformerly. The V odiano! spoilt her looks . He d id not thin k ,doubtless , that they would take her out so quickly ; he destroyed her yon der at the bottom of the water.I had myself often met this Akoulina, covered with rags ,horribly th i n , her face black as coal , with anxious eyes andproject in g teeth ; she would paw the ground for hours at a timein the same place on the highway , with her withered handspressed ag ainst her breast, and she would rest slowly now on

one foot, now on the other, l ike a wild animal in a cage . She

3 . Spirit of thewaters.

158 TNE PRA IRIE.

understood nothing you said to her, and she gigg led Spasmodically at times .

And they say , repl ied Kostis ,

“ that Akoulina threw herself in to the water because her lover deceived her.It is true.And do you remember V acia ? added Kost ia sadly.

What Vacia ? asked Fedia.

The one who was drowned , answered Kost ia, “ in thatve river. What a boy he was ! Oh, what a good boy !an

‘

dyhow his mother Féklista loved himl They say that shehad a presentiment of the misfortune that happened to himon the water. When Vacia started out in summer with us ,with the children , to bathe she always trembled with fear .The other women said n oth i ng , they passed quietly on withtheir pails but Féklistawould put hers down and begin to callVacia Come back again , come back , my little l i ht!oh , comeback , my l ittle lamb !

’

And God knows how e happenedto be drowned . Hewas playing on the ed e , and his motherwas there also : she was pitching hay . Su den ly she heard asound , as of some one blowing air- bubbles in the water ; shelooked , and already there was on ly V acia

’

s l ittle cap on thewater. From that time Féklista has not been right in hermind ; she oes and lies down at the place where he wasdrown ed ; s e l ies down , brothers , and begin s to sing a song ,— you remember what V acia always sang ; then she weepsShe weeps ; she is an with God.

”

There is Pav loucg lzi , ” said Fedia.

Pav louchka came back to the fire with the kettle full ofwater.Do you know , boys , he said after a moment’s silence ,

that it is a bad thinWhat , then ? sai Kostia hastily.

Truly. Hardly had I lean ed over the water, than Iheard some one call l ike this , in Vacia

’

s voice , and fromthe bottom of the river : ‘Pav louchka l Hey ! Pavlouchka !come here I doubted , and yet I took the water .

Ah Lord Lord !” said the other children , crossingthemselves.

“ It was the V odianoi call ing you, Pavel , said Fedia, “andwe were just speaking of V acia.

Ah ! that’s a bad Sign ,

” said I liouchka slowly.

Ah bah ! that’s nothing, replied Pavel in a resoluteton e . One does not escape his fate.The children were si len t . It was easy to see that Pavel

’

s

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160 TNE PRA I RIE.

two verstes, when already before me the vast prairies , thereen hi lls , and behind me on the dusty road , the sh in in gushes , and the river becoming t imidly blue under its ve i l

of mist , —ih a word , the whole country about was i llumin edby the light— at first pin k , then red , then golden— o f thewarm rays of the breaking day. Everything was awake,

movin and begin ning to sing ; large drops of dew sparkled l i e diamonds , the wind brought me the sound Of tinkl ing bells pure and clear as if they were also impregn atedwith the freshn ess of morn ing ; and while I was listening toit , the herd of horses that had been on the prairie passedrapidly before me, under the care of the children whom Ihad just left .I must add, to my great regret , that Pavel died with i n theear. He was not drowned ; he was killed by a fall fromhisorse. I reg ret him; hewas a brave boy.

TNE TWO PROPRIETORs. 16 1’

CHAPTER XI I .

THE TWO PROPRIETORS.

I HAVE already had the honor , my dear readers, of presenting several of my n eighbors to you. A llow me to

in troduce two other proprietors over whose lands I oftenshoot. You will be g rateful to me for it , I am sure ; at leastso a writer is in cl ined to bel ieve . The are well- meaningmen , very worthy of esteem, and generally respected in thecount about .I wi 1 first describe V iatcheslav I larionovitch Kvalin ski, aretired major- gen eral . Picture to yourself a tall man ,

oncehandsome and well formed , and rather well preserved forhis e . He had still a pleasant face , though his featureshad ost somewhat the regularity that disting uished themin his outh ; his cheeks were flabby ; there was a halo of littlewrink es about his eyes , and some of his teeth were gone ; hisl ight hai r, or at least what there was left of it , had taken a

purplish tint by virtue of an el ixir bought of a j ew whoassed himself off as an A rmenian at the horse- fair ofomen . But nevertheless V iatcheslav I larionov itch walkedwith his head in the air, makin g his spurs j ingle as he wentalong ; he curled his mustache , his laughter was n oisy , and hecal led himself an old trooper , con trary to the habit of o ld

men , who do not like , as one knows , to have the epithet ofold man” applied to them . The frock- coat that he gener

al ly worewas buttoned up to his throat , a large false- collarrose above his n eck- cloth , and his gray trousers were of amil itary cut. His hat was tipped forward, and left the backof his head completely uncovered. He was an excellen tman ; but his princi

ples and habits were rather strange . As,

for example , he too good care not to treat the poor or n ut itled seig n eurs as his equals ; he g enerally looked askance atthem , while flattening his cheeks ag ain st his white starchedco llar, or else he examined them si len tly with a cold , steadystare , making the skin of his forehead move up and down .

I n talking with them , he cut his words short in a peculiar

162 TNE TWO PROPRIEToRs.

wa Instead of 7: w as remercze, monsieur , he n everfai ed to say , Tw as men '

z'

, m’

sz’

eur . As to person s of alower rank , he behaved towards them in a still stranger way:he did n ot look at them at all, and repeated several times insucces sion with a preoccupied air, when he wished to ex

press a desire to them or give them an order, What’s your

name, what’s your name ,

” takin care to emphas ize the lastword , and swallowing the rest 0 the phrase— which recallsthe quai l ’s song in a singular mann er. Though he wasselfish and over- scrupulous , his estate was badly manag ed ;he had for a steward a Little Russian , an o ld sub- officer, an

extremely narrow-minded man . But of all the proprietorsof the district. the o ne who excelled him in this res ct wasa high official from Petersburg, who , on learnin g rom hissteward ’

s report that the dryin g- rooms of his V i llage wereo ften burnt up, from which great loss resulted , gave ordersunder the severest penalties that they were n ot to fill themwith sheaves until the fire1 had been com letel put out .

The same proprietor had ordered his stewar to p ant all hisfields with pOppies . This was the result of the finest calculat ion ; for poppies being dearer than corn , their culturebrought him in more. He had also made all the women ofhis villag e take as a head - dress kakoclzouks’ cut after amodel that he had sent them from Petersburg ; they obeyedhim, still , however, retaining their ordinary head - dress ,which gave them a very singular appearance .But to return to V iatcheslav I larion ov itch . He admired

the fair sex, and when he happened to see a pretty face on

one of the streets of the vill e of the d istrict he immediately wen t in ursuit . But e was instantly seized withan unfortunate imping that stop ed him : this fact is assuredly very worthy of remark . e l iked to play cards , butoul with his inferiors , who n aturally my- lorded him , andwiththem he in dulged all the whims that came into hishead . But when he had the honor of having as a partn erthe Governor or some other oflicial , an aston ishing chan gecame over his whole person he smiled , put on a fin icky air ,

gave his eyes an expression of sweetn ess that would softenthe hardest hearts. Better still : if he lost , he n ever comlain ed. Reading had little attraction for V iatcheslavlarion ov itch , and while engag ed in that occupation h is

I The? thrash the corn in Russia 0 l aft d '

t shdesigned for the purpose.

n Y er ry in g i in eaves in oven sa. An old head - dress of the Russian peasan t -women , now generally given up

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164 TNE TWO PROPRIEToRs.

such as examinations, exhibitions , andassemblies ; and it waswith a particular grace he approached the priests to receivetheir blessin g. The General

’

s servan ts behaved themselveswith the greatest d iscret ion at the end of the gatherin g sthat he hon ored with his presence , gent] drove away thecurious , sa in g to them in a deep voice , ermit me, permitme ; let enet al Kvalin ski pass ; or,

“Here ; GeneralKvalin sk i s carriage .

” Yet this carriage was of a very oldstyle ; and the l iveries of Gen eral Kvalin ski

’

s lackeys weren o newer (though th is detail be of l ittle importance , I willadd that they were of gray cloth with red trimmings , l ikethose of all the other Gen erals) . His horses were also of arespectable ag e ; but he made no preten sions to eleg ance ,and disdain ed all that could lead you to believe that he wastrying to dazzle the publ ic. Eloquen ce was n ot his strongpoint , or at least he had n ever given the world a chan ce toappreciate his talent for eloquence , for he avoided with thegreatest care not on ly the shade of a dispute , but all discussion and even all prolonged con versation with any on e whatever, above all with young peOpl This was , indeed , veryruden t ; at the time in which we live we are on ly too apt toorget , in the heat of conversation , the respect due to t itledmen . When Gen eral Kvalin ski was in the presen ce of hissuperiors he gen erally kept silen t ; he associated only withpersons of a lower rank than his own , and for them he

seemed to have l ittle esteem . He also spoke to them in a

dry, sententious tone , and at times even un kin dly : “Doyou kn ow that you are raving ? I must recall to you therespect Or else : Don ’t forget , my dear sir, with whomyou are dealing,

” etc . It was above all for postmasters ,

councillors of tribunals , heads of the relays on the highway ,that the General was truly a redoubtable person . Moreover , he entertained n o on e, and passed for a n iggard . Buthe was n ot the less con sidered a very in tell igen t proprietor.He is an w

’

eux rog n ara’

, a man of principle , an in corrupt ible con scien ce , is n eighbors said of him . The governmentattorney was the on ly one who dared to smile when theyspoke of the solid qualities of General Kvalin ski : butjealousy blin ds us .Now we will speak of the second proprietor to whom wewish t o in troduce you .

Mardari Apo llo n itch Stég oun of resembled Kvalinsk i inn oth ing ; I doubt whether he had fulfilled the smallestpubl ic office , and assuredly he never had been a handsome

THE TW0 PROPRIETORS.

fellow. He was a l ittle old bald- headed man , with l ittlepudg y hands, a larg e stomach , and a double chin ; a greatlover of ease, and a jovial , very hospitable character. Hewas only known in one costume , which he wore winter andsummer—a striped- silk wadded dressin

gown . The on ly

point of resemblance between him an is n eighbor wasthat hewas , l ike him , a bachelor. His peasants amounted tofive hundred in number , but he took little in terest in them.

To conform to the manners of the t ime , he bou ht , sometwelve years ago , of a machine manufacturer, outen opof Moscow,

—a thrashing - machine that he always keptun der lock and key in a Shed . When , on a fine summer’s day, he took a fan cy to have his drochki hitchedup to g o into the fields , he con fined himself to lookin g at

the corn , and especially took a pleasure in gathering bluets .

The house in which he lived was Old , and kept up in the oldway . The ante- room smelt, as usual , of kvass , tallow can

dles , and leather ; to the right was a sideboard on whichwere ipes and dishes ; on the wal ls of the din ing- roomhung amily portraits covered withfly- specks, and there wereto be seen also a squeaking spin et and a large pot ofnium. The furniture of the drawing- roomconsisted of threesofas , as many tables , two mirrors , and a ramshackle clockwhose hands of embellished bron ze could scarcely be seenon the blackened face ; his study was adorned with a tablecovered with papers , a blue screen ornamented with en g raving s borrowed from works that dated from the last century,with a cupboard full of musty- smelling books , spiders and

rust ; opposite this l ibrary was a large arm- chair ;window was It and the window that led to the

garden was boarded up. I n a word , eve hingwas arrangedafter the old- fashioned idea . Mardari Apo llon itch

’

s servants were very numerous , and all dressed in the old waythey wore long blue kaftan s with a straight collar , yellowwaistcoats , and very short trousers of an undecided tinge.They gave the title of father to the people who visited theirmaster. The Burgomaster of t he village , a peasan t with a

long beard , managed the estate ; a decrepit , avaricious o ld

woman ,with a colored ban d about her head , looked after

the house. Mardari Apollon itch’

s stables contained th irtyhorses of all colors and sizes ; his state carriage was a

barouche built by his own Ople and weighed a hundredand fifty poud: at least . e heartily welcomed all thosewho came to see him, and treated themd la m u he filled

166 TNE TWO PROPRIETORs.

them with such nutritious v iands that it was en tirely imssible for them , when eve n ing came , to do anythin g else

but play pref/Erm a. As to himself , he was constantly idle ,

and had n ot even the courage to read the Sonm'

k.

‘ Yetr0prietors of this kind are still rather common in Russia .

You will ask , perhaps , why I have chosen such a person .

In stead of answering this question , allow me to tell you o f

on e of my visits to this neighbor. I went to his house on e

summer’s day , towards seven in the even ing. He was jus tassist ing at vespers , and the priest— a young man recen tlyfrom a semin ary, most probably, for he seemed very tim idwas still in the room, seated near the door , on the edge of achair. Mardari Apo llon itch gave me a very gracious welcome , as usual ; he did the same to all those who came t osee him, and these marks of in terest were perfectly sin cerehe was unusual ly kin d . The priest rose and took off his cap.

Wait, wait , in father,”

Mardari Apollon itch said to him,

holding him by t e hand. Don ’t g o away ; they will brin gyou brandy.

“ I don ’t drink it , the priest answered with an embarrassed air, and he blushed to his ears.Come , n ow, replied Mardari Apollon itch ,

“why shouldn o t a man of your calling drin k ? Michka, louchka , brandyfor the father.louchka, a tall , thin oldman of seventy at least , entered

with a glass of brandy on a dark - colored plate with rosySpots , the remains ofmythological n udities .

The priest repeated that he did n ot drin k brandy .

Drin k , my father ; don’t stand on ceremony ; it is n ot

right , my host said to him in a reproachful tone.

The un fortun ate young man g ave in .

Now, father, you may retire.”

The priest began to bow himself out .V ery well , g o . He is an excellent man , con tinued

Mardari Apollon itch , looking after him ; “ I am very wellsatisfied With him . On ly he is too young, and he has aman ia for sermons . And you , my dear friend , how are on ,

eh ? Come out on the balcon y ; the evening is so beaut iWe made ourselves comfortable on the balcony, and con

versat ion began . But my host, on looking in to the g arden ,became strang ely agitated .

s . I n terpreter of dreams.

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168 TNE TWO PROPRIETORS.

of the ravine , near the road , yours ? I asked Mardari Apollon itch.

Yes . What are you driving at ?Then , Mardari Apollon itch , you are very guilty. Those

houses are small and miserable ; n ot a shrub to shade them .

No ponds in the vill e ; I have seen but one well , and thatis in bad condition . S it possible that you have n o t a moresuitable situation ? They assure me that you have takenfrom the peasan ts their old hemp- fields.

"

What would you have ? an swered Mardari Apollon itch .

The fault is in the new register. Do you know that I havethere your register (he turned his back to me) , and I don ’tknow what good the overnmen t expects of this register.As to the hemp- fields t at I have taken from these peasan ts ,and for the nds that I have no t dug for them , that is mybusiness . am a plain man , a man of the old time . In myOpinion , the mas ter should behave as master, and the peasan t as peasant. That

’s the way I look at it .A reasoning so profound was unanswerable , and I kept

silent.Besides , he continued , “ these peasants are good for

n oth ing ; they are men that I have completely disgraced .

I have yonder two families , especially , whom my fatherGod have pity on his soul —could not endure . As to

myself, I will tell you I have noticed one thing ; that is , thatthe son of a th ief is always a thief. You may say what youlike , it is so . Oh, blood , blood is a great thingThe day had become very quiet ; at times only a breathof air would come and die away as it reached thehouse . Hardly had my host stopped speaking when one

of these passing breaths brought to our ears dull , measuredsounds that seemed to come from the stable. Mardari Apollon itch was holding a saucer full of tea to his lips, andwasabout to swallow it after open ing his nostrils , as evegood Russian does in such a case . He stopped , listen emade a sign of assen t with his head , swallowed his tea andplaced the saucer on the table ; a good - n atured smi le lightedup his face , and, as if he wished to accompany the soundsthat he heard , he began to say , Tchiouki, tchiouki, tchiouki,tchiouki, tchiouki.

”

What does that mean ? I asked him with surprise.

x . When they remove a village, they general ly leave to the peasan ts the en

joymen t of their old hemp- helds in order not to lose the pasture. Hemp deman ds a g reat deal of care.

TNE TWO PROPRIETORS. 169

It is a l ittle scamp they are pun ishing by my orders.

Vacia , the butler, you know.

”

W ho is this VaciaDo ou remember the servant who waited at table— the

one wit the large whiskersMardari Apollon itch

’

s serene expression , as he looked atme at that moment , would have disarmed the most indignant man .

What’s the matter , young man he said to me , shakinhis head .

“Am I a robber that you look at me like thatW lio l ives well chastises well ; you should know that as well

asAt the end of a quarter of an hour I took leave of Mardari Apollon itch . On going through the village, I sawV acia , the butler. He was walkin along cracking nuts.I told the coachman to stop , and cal ed the servant .Well , brother , I asked him , ouwere punished to - day ?How do you know ?

” asked acia.

Your master told me .The master himself ?But why d id he punish ou ?I deserved it , father ; deserved it well . They don ’t

unish without reason here . We know nothing about thatere ; n i , ui. The master is not one of those seigneurs ; heis— you will not find his like in the whole overnmen t . ”

Go on I cried to the coachman . hat is, then , OldRussia I said to myself , and we started off.

CHAPTER XI I I .

xon AND KALINITCH.

ERSONSwho have chan ced to pass from the district ofBo lkhof in to that of Jizdra must doubtless have been

struck by the difference between the race ofmen who l ive inthe Governmen t of Orel and the population of Kaloug a.

The peasan t of the Government ofOrel is under- sized , shortnecked , and has a sullen look ; he lives in miserable isbas ofaspen , he is bound to feudal service , takes n o in terest incommerce , is badly fed , andwears lapt i . On the other hand ,the peasan t of the Governmen t ofKaloug a is lodged in veryspacious isbas of pin e , and pays a rent to his lord , by meansofwhich he is almost free and does as he wishes ; he is tall ,with a cheerful , bold look and a clear white complex ion hedeals in Oil and tar , and wears boots on Sunday. The villag es of the Government ofOrel (we speak especially of theeastern part of that governmen t) are gen erally in the middleof cultivated fields , and n ear a ravine transformed into a sortofmuddy pon d . The on ly trees that are to be found hereare willows whose branches are always trimmed , but whichcome out again very quickly, and three or four wretchedbirches . The isbas lean again st each other ; the thatch thatcovers them is often rotten . The villages of the Governmen tof Kaloug a, o n the contrary , are generally in the midst ofwoods ; the isbas are larger, better laid out , and roofed withboards ; the gates shut tight ; the hedge surround in g theyard is n ot half down , inviting in all the pigs that pass alon gthe street. The shooting is better in the Government of

Kaloug a. In that of Orel the last woods and the last placeswill have d isappeared en t irely in a few years , and alreadythere are n o longer any moors . I n the Governmen t ofKaloug a , on the con trary , the forests are hun dreds of versteslon g, the swamps are n o less exten sive , and the noble g rouse

1 . The n ame given in the Governmen t of Orel to larg e clumps of bushes .

The dialect of the Go vernmen t of Orel is dist inguished in gen eral by a greatnumtze

‘rdof peculiar expression s, some of which are very con cise and often

very

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172 NOR AND NALINI TON.

Yes . brother ; bring us kvass .We went in to the isba . No Souzdal picture defaced the

handsome beams of the house ; a little lamp burn ed in a

corn er, opposite a massive image covered over by a silverplate ; the table of l inden -wood had just been scraped and

washed ; between the joists and in the window - frames weren o active firoussak

’n or pensive cockroach . The

youn g

asant soon return ed with a large white bowl full 0 goodvass , and a dozen salted cucumbers swimming about in a

wooden bowl . He placed all these provision s on the table,lean ed again st the door, and began to look at us, smil ingfrom time to time . We had n o sooner finished breakfast,than the noise of a téléga was heard before the porch . We

went out . A boy of fifteen , with curly hair and red cheeks ,was seated on the box l ike a coachman , and was holding inwith a great deal of trouble a well - fed stallion . About thetélégawere six young giants very much l ike Fédia.

he are Kor’s sons , remarked Polout ikine.

Litt e immediately an swered Fédia, who had

followed us on to the porch ; “and that is n o t all of them .

Patape is in the woods , and Pidor has gone with old Korto town . Look sharp , V acia ,

” he added , addressing thecoachman ; “ g o as fast as you can ; you are driving themaster. But take care of the ruts ; otherwise you will overturn the téléga and disturb the master’s stomach .

The auditors welcomed this pleasantry of Fédia’

s withsmiles .

Put Astronomy in said Polout ikine majestically.

Fedia l ift ed the dog with small rel ish , and put him in thebottom of the télég a, the dog showing his teeth during thisoperat ion .

V acha let g o the reins and off we started.

That is my office ,” said Polout ikine suddenly , po inting

out a l ittle low house . Will you come in ?”

“ I should like n othing better .It is n ot used now ,

” he added , getting out, but still it isworth looking at. ”

The office consisted of two empty rooms. The guardian ,a squint- eyed old man , ran in from the back yard .

1 . An old town in the north of Russiawhere they make a g reat many imag esand illumin ated en vinga.

0 . Litt le cockroac es brought by theRussian armies fromPrussia in to Russia,after the Seven Years’ War.

_3 .

_

A play upon words bar sign ifies falcca t in Russian , and korkr’

is thed iminutive of its plural .

NOR AND A’

ALINI TC’

H . 173

Good- day , Minaltch, Polout ikine said to him ;“but

where is the waterThe old man disappeared , and soon came back with a

bottle ofwater and two glasses .Taste that ,

”

Po lout ikin e said to me ; “ I have an excellent spring.

”

We each dran k a glass of water, and while we were drin kin g , the oldman never stopped makin g us the most profoundbows .Now , resumed my n ew frien d , “ I think we can go on .

Here I sold to the merchan t A lliloueff four déciat ines ofwoods at a very good rice.We got into the téleg a, and at the end of hal f an hour we

were in the seign orial yard .

Tell me , pray , I asked Polout ikine during supper, “whydoesn ’t Kor l ive with your other peasan ts ?

”

This is why. He is an in tell igen t man . About five- andtwenty years ago his isba burnt down ; he then came to seemy father and said to him , A llow me, Niko lal Kousmitch,

to settle at the bottom of the woods, in the swamp . I willay you a good ahrok .

’ ‘What do you mean ,’ asked my

father, ‘settle in the swamp ? ’ ‘Yes ,’ he answered ; ‘only ,

father Nicolai Kousmitch, youmust require no more work ofme ; but you can ask me an abrok you like. ’ ‘Fift roubles a year ? ’ ‘V ery well . ’ ut n o delay ; be careful 0 that .

’

You may be sure that you will have it .’

And then hes

igttled i n the swamp ; since that time he has been calledor .“A nd has he become rich ? I asked .

Oh yes . He n ow pays a hundred roubles ahrok a year,

andwould pay more if wished . I have already told himmore than once , ‘Buy your freedom , Kor ; I mean it ; buyit. ’ But the scamp W ished to persuade me that he had n o t

the mon ey ; he said that he had not a sou. Yes , I believethat indeed !The next day we wen t out shooting after we had had tea .

In going through the vill e , Polout ikine stopped at a lowbut and called out in a lou voice , Kalin itch“Coming, my little father , immediately , cried out someone behind the door ; “ I am putting on my lapti .

”

We walked on ; on leaving the village , we were joined by aman of forty , very tall and thin , and with a small head and aslight stoop : it was Kalin itch . His good sun - burn t face

,

marked hereand there by small - pox, pleased me at first sight.

174 NOR AND RALINI TON.

Kalin itch (as I afterwards learned) went shooting with hismaster almost every day, carried his game-bag , and sometimes even his gun ; marked down the game , broughtwater, g athered strawberries , built l ittle huts of branches ,and wen t after the drochki ; in a word , Polout ikine couldnot do without him . Kalin itch was a man ofa sweet , cheerful disposition ; he was always sing ing, and looking lucessan tly about him with a careless man ner. He spoke a littlethrough his nose ; when he smiled , he blinked his light blueeyes a l ittle, and often carried his han d to his thin poin tedbeard . He walked slowly, but with very long strides , leanin g lightly on a long thin pole . He spoke to me more thanonce dur ing the da

y, and in doing anything for me was not

at all obse uious ; ut he was as attentive to his master as toa child . hen the intolerable heat of the day at len g th decided us to seek shelter, he took us to the place where hish ives were , at the bottom of the woods . Arrived there ,Kalin itch Opened the door of a l ittle isba full of tufts offrag ran t herbs hung on the walls and ceil ing ; he made uscomfortable in fresh hay. and putt in on a kind of sack withan Open ing closed b a sieve , he too a knife , a pot with alittle firebrand , an went to cut us

'

some honeycomb.

A fter we had done honor to his honey , which was still warmand transparent , we drank a few mouthfuls of spring- water

,

and soon after fell asleep to themonotonous buzzing of beesand the rustling of the moving leaves .— I opened my eyes ,and saw Kalin itch ; he was seated on the threshold of thehalf- open door, and was makin a wooden spoon with a

knife . For a long time I admire the frank , natural expression of h is features , as clear as the evening sky . Polout ikinewoke up in his turn . We still lay there for a few momen ts .It is pleasant , after a long walk and a deep sleep , to remainstretched out motion less on the hay : such repose has awonderful charm ; a soft warmth spreads over the face , anda del icious laziness weighs down the eyel ids . We final lyarose , and resumed our shooting unt il evening. A t supperI ag ain spoke ofKor and Kalin itch.

Kalin itch is agood peasan t ,”

Polout ikin e told me ; he isan oblig in zealous man , but yet he can not keep his household in or er ; I contin ually disturb him. He goes shootin gwith me every day, and n aturally he cannot look after h ishouse. Judge for yourself.I agreed with him , and we went to bed .

The n ext day Polout ikin e was obliged to go to town to

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176 NOR AND KALINI TCH .

t le tar. But doubtless , l ittle father, you would l ike to havethe télé

ga hitched up ?”

Wel I thou ht , ou have g ood control of yourself andyour tongue . said to him aloud , “ I don

’t wan t thetéléga ; I shall shoot about here tomorrow , and , with yourpermission , I will pass the night in the hay - loft . ”

You are welcome . But will you n ot be more comfortable in the shed ? I will tell the women to 3 read a Sheetthere and

Igive you a pillow . Hey ! women ! e cried out ,

rising. ey l women ! come here ! And you , Fedia , g owith them women are such fools .A quarter of an hour after, Fédia , armed with a lantern ,

led me in to the barn . I threw myself on the sweet- smellinhay , and my dog curled himself up at my feet. Fediawisheme good - n ig ht ; the door creaked and closed with a slam . Itwas a lon t ime before I fell asleep. Soon a cow approachedand breat ed hard ag ainst the door two or three times ; mydog g ave a deep g i

'

owl . A pig passed by in his turn , gruntingthoughtfully. A orse beg an to munch the hay and to sn ortclose by me. At last I fell as leep .

A t daybreak I was awaken ed by Fédia. This active , cheerful boy pleased me ve much , and I also thought him to beold Kor’s favorite . T ey ban tered one another in a ver

yfrien dly way . The old man came to meet me , and— I don tkn ow whether it was because I had passed the night underhis roof— showed me much more attention than he hadthe even ing before.The samovar is ready, he saidtome, smiling ; come and

drin k tea.

"

We took our places about the table . A robust peasan twoman , one of my host

's daughters- in - law, brought a potof milk . A ll of Kor’s son s came in to the isba, on e after theother.

You have a fine family , I said to the oldman .

Yes ,”

he answered , breaking a l ittle piece of sugar with histeeth ; I don ’t think that I ormy old woman have anyth ingto complain of.

And they all live with you ?A ll . They like it better, and l ive as they please.

And they are all married ?There is a thoron h scamp who is no t married , he said

to me , indicat ing Fé ia , who , as usual , was lean ing again stthe door. As to V aska , he is still too young, andcan wait.

”

Why should I marry ? sa id Fedia ;“ I amhappy enoug h

NOR AND NALINI TON. 177

without it . What need have I of a wife ? Is it to quarrelwith her ?”

Come , you I kn ow on , repl ied the old man slyly.

You wear a silver ring. on l ike to romp with the dvorovi’sirls . You should blush for it , brazen - faced as you all are.I know you , my fin e lad with the white hands .What good is there in a peasan t- womanPeasant- women are workers , said Kor gravely . The

peasant- woman is a workwoman in the house .”

What need have I of a workwomanThat’s so ; on would rather have the brands lucked out

of the fire by t e hands of others . We know la S l ike you.

”

Well , if it is so , marry me . Come , I say, why don’t you

answerThat’s all right . Be silen t , you mischievouswag ; ou see

we tire the master . I will marry you , don’t be afrai A nd

you , father, don’t be angry ; pardon him , he is a child ; he has

not yet had time to acquire much judgment.Fédia shook his head .

Is Kor at home said a well- known voice outside ; andKalin itch en tered the isba , a bun ch of field- strawberries in hishand ; he had athered them for h is friend Kor. The Oldman welcomed imjoyfully . I looked at Kalin itchwith surprise ; I had not expected such del icate attention on thepart of a peasant .I started out shooting that morning nearly four hours laterthan usual , and passed the three next days at Kor

’s house .The two frien ds interested me very much . I do not knowhow I gained their con fiden ce, but they spoke very freel before me . I l isten ed to them with pleasure while Studyingthem atten tively , for they were in n o way alike . Kor was apositive , practicalman , with the head of an admin istrator, arational ist Kalin itch , on the contrary, was a kin d of idealist ,a roman ticist , a dreamer and an en thusiast . Kor had graspedthe positive side of l ife ; he had made a home he had pickedup a l ittle capital , he was on good terms W ith his masterand other powers : Kalin itch wore lapti and lived as well ashe could . Kor had brought into the world a numerousfamily , submissive and un ited : Kalin itch had formerly hada W ife whom he feared, and n ever had had children . Korknew Polout ikine thoroughly : Kalin itch adored his master.Kor loyed and protected Kalin itch , by whom he was lovedand respected in turn . Ko r was taciturn , chuckled , and letnothing escapehim: Kalin itch brig htened up while speaking,

178 NOR AND NALINI TON .

though he had not that fluen cy of speech that distin uishessome p easants . But he had also merits that Kor imselfrecognized ; as , for example , he cured fits . visions , and madn ess ; he was fortun ate with his bees ; he had a lucky Izand.

Kor beg ged him before me to make a horse that he had justbought g o into his stable andKalin itch fulfil led with a conscien t ious importance the request ofthe o ldsceptic. Kalin itchwas nearer nature ; andKor, men and society. Kalin itch didn ot l ike to reason , and believed everything blin dly : n ow and

then Kor went so far as to con template l ife in an iron icalpoint of view . He had seen a great deal

,knew a great deal ,

and had ac uired a great deal of experience. He told me ofa number 0 things ; for example , he told me that every year ,when haying beg in s , a little téléga ofa peculiar shape appearsin the villages , in which is seated a man selling scyt hes .He sells scythes at a rouble and a quarter, and on trust atthree and five roubles . Naturally all the peasants buy on

credit . A t the end of two or three weeks he comes backand asks for h is money ; the peasan t has cut his oats , andconsequently he has someth ing with which to pay ; he takesthe merchant to the tavern , and there settles it with him.

Some r0prietors had an idea of buying scyt hes themselves ,cash own , and giving them at the same price , on credit ,to the peasants ; but the peasan ts were very disconten tedand even disturbed at this ; for they were deprived of thepleasure of tapping the scythe, l isten ing to the n oise that it

g ave out , turn i ng it around between their hands and repeati n g more than twen ty times to the scamp of a city merchan twho offered it to them , But , you kn ow , my dear fellow ,

that the scythe is hardl — you un derstan d me. The samescenes were one throughwith at the buying of the sickles ,with this d i eren ce , that the peasan t- women meddled and

often forced the merchant himself to beat them to bring themto reason . But the peasant - women un dergo especially badtreatmen t under the followin g circumstan ces The suppliersof rag s for paper- mills en trust the care of buying thesematerials to part icular men , who in some districtshear then ame of eag le .

” Ind ividuals of this description receivetwo hun dred roubles from their patron and start out on the

campai But , con trary to the habits of the n oble bird whosen ame t ey bear , they do n ot act Open ly andboldl they useartifice and cunn in g to achieve their en ds . W en o ne ofthem approaches a villa e , he gen erally leaves his téléga at alittle distan ce from the rst isbas , in the bushes , and he h im

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180 NOR AND NALINI TON.

price , l ittle matter when ce it comes . With the g ood sensethat distinguishes him , be readily laughs at the dry reasoning of the Germans . But Kor, however , admitted that “theGermans were a somewhat curious people , and was readyto g ive them credit for all they deserved . Thanks to hisexceptional po sition , to his in dependen ce in fact , Kor spokeofmany things that on could n o t have drawn from an otherat an y price , or , as t e peasants say , even by crushing himun der a millston e , or forcing him to it with a lever. He

un derstood his position very well . I n talking with him ,

I appreciated for the first t ime the sen sible , sim le ta lkof the Russian peasant. The kn owledge that or hadacquired was rather extensive for his condition ; and yethe was ill iterate . Kalin itch could read .

“ It came to him,

the ueer fellow , Kor said to me ; but he is lucky : hisbees ave never frozen in win ter.

KA nd have you taught your children to read ? I asked

or.

rédia can read , he answered me after a moment ’ssilence .

And the others ?The others — no .

Why so ?The old man did not answer and changed the conversa

t ion .

Yet , however sensible he was, he shared in a g reat numberof superstitions and popular prejudices . He had the g reatest contempt for women , and did n ot spare them when hewas in a good humor. His wife , who was an old scold ,lay on the stove and did n othing but growl and heapabuse on those about her ; her sons paid n o atten tionto her, but she kept her daughters- ln - law in the fear ofGod . It is not in vain that a mother has said in a Russiansong, “What kind of a so n are you to me ? What k in d ofa head of a family will you be when you are old ? You don ot beat your wife ; you do n ot strike her. I onceattempted to in tercede for these unfortunates , and to awakeKor’s feeling in respect to them . But he answered mequietl

“What an idea , for you to trouble yourself withsuch 0013 ! Let the women quarrel ; you will gain n othingin attempt ing to recon cile them ; besides , it is not worth thetrouble ofsoil in g your han ds .Sometimes the bad old woman would come down from the

stove, call from the vestibule to a dog that was in the

NOR AND NALINI TON. 181

d, saying, “Here, here , l ittle do g ! and when he ran to

er , She would strike h im on his th in flan ks with a poker, orelse She would go out un der the pen thouse and begin “tosn arl ,

”

as Kor said , at all the passers- by . Yet she fearedher husband , and wen t back to the stove when the o ld manordered her to do so . But above all it was very curious tohear the discussions of Kor andKalin itch when they spokeof Polout ikin e.

Don ’t dare , said Kalin itch , to speak badly of him .

Why doesn ’t he bu you boots ? Kor answered .

Oh , bah ! boots ! hat do I want with boots ? I ama

peasan t.But I am also a peasant , and yet A ndwhile saying

this, Kor raised his foot and showed Kalin itch a boot thatseemed cut out of the skin of a mammoth .

‘

“You ? But then are you one of us ? an swered Kalin itch.

Well,at least he ought tbgive you something to buy

lapti . You g o shooting with him , and each time you mustuse u a pair.

e pays me for lapti .Yes last year he was pleased to give you six kopeks .

Kalin itch turned away with rag e . Kor was dying withlau hter. and his l ittle eyes had en t irely disappeared .

alin itch san g rather well and played on the balalaz’

ka .

’

Kor listen ed to him , l istened , then sudden ly he bent hishead and began to accompany him with a plain tive voice.He especially liked the song that began with these words“Oh , my lot ! m sad lot ! Fedia never missed the occasion

, andjoked is father. Who is that , he said , “ complaining in that way But Kor rested h is cheek on hishand

, Shut his eyes , and con tin ued to bewail h is lot. Butin other circumstances there was n o more active manthan he . He was always busy ; now in men ding a téléga orraising a hedge , n ow examin in g the harnesses . Yet he wasn ot over- n eat , and answered my remarks on this point bysaying “ that an isba should smell as though one l ived init .

”

Just see how clean Kalin itch keeps his house in the

woods .The bees would not l ive there otherwise, father, he said

to me with a sigh .

1 . Fossil elephan ts that are foun d in g reat abundance, above all , in Siberiain themost shallow lands.

a. Kind of primitive g uitar.

182 NOR AND NALINI TON.

But , he asked me another time, have you estate

of your own ?Yes .

Is it far from here ?About a hundred verstes .

l

end you l ive , father, on your es tates ?es . ’

You do a great deal of shooting ?Yes , I admit it .

”

That ’s well, father ; you do well . Shoot for your health ,

kill as many grouse as you een , and often change your Sta

The fourth day Polout ikine sent after me. I left the old

man with regret , and g o t into my tel with Kalin itch.

Then farewell , Kor,” I said as I le t ; “ farewell , Fédia.

Farewell , l ittle father, farewell ; do n ot forget us .

We started off it was no? quite twil ight. It will bemagn ificent weather to- morrow, I observed , looking at theserene Sky .

No , it will rain , answered Kalin itch ; here are theducks paddl ing about , the odor of the grass is strong.

We went into the bushes . Kalin itch began to sin g whilebouncing about on his seat ; he n ever stopped looking at

the setting sun .

The next day I left Polout ikine’

s hospitable roof.

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184 TNE SINGERS.

it is more patronized than all the establ ishments of the kindin the country , and this is due to the tavern- keeper, NikolaiIvanovitch , who keeps the bran dy for sale .

Nikolai Ivanovitch was on ce a vigorous youth with fullred cheeks . Now he is a man en ormously stout , his finehead of hair has become white , his brow is covered withwrinkles that cross each other in every direction , his featuresare disfigured by fat , and his eyes have an expression ofkin dness mixed with shrewdn ess . He has l ived at Kolotovka for twen ty years at least . Like most inn keepers

,

Nikolai Ivanovitch is a shrewd and very caut ious man ; hehas the talent of attracting and keeping his customers without taking much trouble to make himself agreeable . Theylike to sit before the bar, where the impass ive in nkeepergeneral ly takes up h is posit ion to watch them with a complacen t but scrutiniz ing man n er as they are seated aboutthe room . No o ne knows better than he the state of theseigneurs ’ affairs , as well as those of the peasan ts and

farmers . Good sense being one of the characteristic traitsof his mind , he can if n ecessary give excellent advice ; but afund of egotism , joined to the reserve that n ever leaves him ,

makes him hold his tongue , andwhen he thin ks fit to givethe benefit of his advice to any on e, he does it in an absen tmin ded sort of way as if it were not

-

o i much importance :

yet he gives this help only to those of his customers whome esteems part icularl He knows thoroughly all thatbe of any use to a ussian— horses , cattle , woods , bricks,pottery , calicoes , hides , songs and dances . When he has n o

customers , he g enerally squats down on the g roun d beforethe door of his house , his thin legs curled up un der hisenormous body ; and if any one chances to pass , he neverfails to speak a few words to them in an affable way. Sin cehe has been settled at Kolotovka he has seen many things,and turned them to account . How many are left of thosel ittle proprietors who once came to buy pure bran dy ofhim ? Most of them are under the sod long si n ce , and heis still of this world . A lso , what does he n ot know ? Hecan teach the stan avoi himself. But I repeat it , he knowsthe value of silen ce and generally contents himself withchuckling while movmg about his glasses . A ll the peopleabout show him great respect : Chterepeten ko , a gen eral onthe civil l ist , the seigneur of the hi hest ran k of the district ,n ever passes b his l ittle house W ithout saluting him in a

k indly way . ikolai exercises a kind of authority in the

TNE SINGERS. 185

country : he has been known to compel a horse- thief to re

store an animal that the scamp had taken out of the yard ofone of his friends ; he has brought to their senses the lnhabitants of a neighboring village who would not obey anew steward , etc . Yet he would n ot do this from a spirit ofjustice or for a laudable in terest in his n eighbor. He assumes the rOle of peace- maker from a much less exaltedfeelin as nothing is more precious to him than h is repose , ie allows nothing to disturb it . Nikolai Ivanovitchis married and has ch ildren . His wife was , in her youth , abusybody with a sharp n ose and a wide- awake look ; but ,l ike her husband , she has become somewhat stout with years .Nikolai Ivanovitch has the greatest con fiden ce in her, andit is she who keeps all the keys of the house . Drunkenbrawlers fear her ; she does n ot l ike them , for they gen erallymake a good deal of n oise and spend little mon ey ; she prefers taciturn , surly drin kers for her customers . NikolaiIvanovitch

’

s children are yet very young. There were several who died young ; those who are left do honor to theirparen ts ; they g low with health , and their cunn ing littletricks are amusing to see .

I was going along o ne day with my dog by the ravine ofwhich I have just spoken ; it was in July , and I walkedslowly , for the heat was stifl ing. The sun , then just overhead , shot forth its rays with redoubled force ; a chokingdust hovered in the air. Crows and ravens with lossyplumag e looked piteously at the passers- by , with hal - openbeak , and seemed to implore their compassion . The sparrows alone had lost n on e of their usual gayety ; they evenfluttered with more life than ever amon the hedges

, andchased each other crying out , their feat ers all stan dingup ; they alighted in swarms in the middle of the dustyroad , and passed l ike ray clouds above the green hempfields . I was dyin o thirst ; there was no water about .The inhabitan ts of olotovka have n o wells they are sat isfied, l ike those of man y other villag es , with the liquid mudfrom a nei g hboring pond . This V i le l iquid in spired in methe most profoun d disgust . I resolved to go and ask Nicolai Ivanovitch for a glass of beer or kvass .The appearan ce of the village of Kolotovka , which is neververy ag reeable , as I have already said , is es cially un att rac

t ive at this season . The dazzl ing glare of t e sun brings outthe smallest details of this melancholy landscape : the halfruined thatched roofs ; the deep ravine ; the little burnt- up

186 TNE SINGERS.

place that tells of heat , in the middle ofwhich are strayinga few thin chickens , this ruin of worm - eaten aspen- wood ,with yawn ing windows , is all that is left of the seignorialhouse , n ow lost in a crowd of nettles and wormwood ; thepon d with its black surface covered with geese - feathers , bordered on one side by a circle of half- dried mud , and on theother by a ruined dam , beyond which , on the g ray troddendown bank , is a flock of gasping sheep , who , huddled uptogether, with their heads down , seem resign ed to await pat ien t ly the end of the torture that they are suffering . Iwalked slowly towards Nikolai Ivan ov itch ’

s house . Thevillage children gazed at me , as they usual] do , with an expression of surprise that seemed n ow and t en to border onamazement , and the dogs with an anger that showed itselfby such furious barkings that they lost their breath and

began to cough . A tall easan t appeared suddenlyon the

door- sill of the tavern . e was bare- headed , and is friezecloakwas held by a blue belt that went roun d him just abovehis hips . This costume den oted a dvorovi . His face wasthin , and his forehead , covered with wrin kles , was surmountedby thick hair already gray . He called some one, and seemedun able to con trol the movements of his hands in g est iculatin g

— a sure Sign of the numerous l ibation s in wh ich he hadalready in dulged .

Come !” he cried out in a hoarse voice , raising his thickeyebrows with an effort Come , Morg atch, come ! Indeedo ne would thin k you were hardly moving. That is n ot

right , brother ; they are waiting for you, and you crawl .Come l”“ I am comin here I am , here I am called a shrill

voice ; and a litt e fat , l ame oldman appeared on the rightof the isba . He wore a long and rather clean cloth tun ic,with but one arm through the sleeves ; a high poin ted cap ,that came down very low on his forehead , gave to h is roun dface an expression of malicious glee . His l ittle yellow eyeswere always rolling about, a con strain ed smile passed perpetually over his lips, and his long thin nose stood out l ikea rudder.“ I am coming, my dear, he added , advancing with an un

certain step towards the tavern .

“Why do you call me ?W hat do they wantWhy do I call you cried theman in the frieze cloak in a

re roachful ton e . Ah ! Morg atch , you are in deed a queerfe low, brother ; they are asking for you at the tavern , and

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188 TNE SINGERS.

l ight of the open ing of which I have just spoken . He worea very lar e sh irt of colored cal ico . He was idly pourin gout with is white pudgy han d , and with that smile thatn ever left h is swollen face , two

glasses of brandy for Mor

gatch and his frien d Obaldoui . l ittle farther on , near thewindow , shone the iercin g eyes of his wife . In the middleof the room was achka the Turk . He was a spare butwell - Shaped man , who would pass for about five- and - twen ty.

He was dressed in a long blue cotton - cloth tun ic. From hisresolute hearin g it was easy to see that he belonged to the

working- class. Though he did n ot seem to be in goodhealth , his hollow cheeks , his gray restless eyes , his straightnose , his thin , quivering nostrils , his white retreating forehead , his l ight hair brushed back , his thick but express ivel ips

,— in a word , all his features denoted a man of sen sit ive

and passionate disposition . He seemed to be greatly ex

cited ; h is breathing was un equal , he bl inked , and his han dstrembled as though he had an attack of fever. One mi htin deed g ive that n ame to the con dition in wh ich he was . efelt the unconquerable emotion that sudden ly takes possessionof the most resolute person when they are about to speak o rs ing in public . Near him was a man of forty , who hadbroad shoulders , prominent cheek- bon es , and a low brow ;

lo'

ng slanting eyes like the Tartars , a short flat nose , a squarechin , and black hair, glossy and stiff as pigs

’ bristles . Theexpression of his face , with its leaden t inge and pale l ips ,would have passed for cruel if it had n ot been sweetened by its calm thought. He was nearly motionless , andwas looking slowly about h im , l ike a bull un der a yoke . Thecoat with large metallic button s that he wore was threadbare

,and an o ld black silk neck- cloth was about h is n eck .

This person was the one whom Obaldoui had called DikiBarin e . Opposite h im , seated o n the bench , n ear the imag es ,was Iachka ’

s rival , the contractor of izdra. He was a robust

peasan t of about five- and- thirty . e was n ot very tal l ; h isace was marked with the small- pox, his hair wa s woolly ,and his nose large and turned up . His bright brown e eswere full of vivacity, and his beardwas not very long. ehad a resolute air. and while seated with his hands passedun der his thighs he swung h is legs and tapped the floorwith h is feet , adorn ed with a fin e pair of top- boots . Heworea fin e g ray cloth armiak with a black velvet collar over a redshirt fastened at the n eck . A t a table in the corner OppoSite , at the right of the door, was a peasant whose old smock

TNE SINGERS. 189

frock had an enormous tear on the shoulder. Two l ittlewin dows with dusty blinds let in to th is retreat a few rays ofsun l ight, but these beams of yellowish light were soon lostin the midst of the obscurity that usually reign ed in thisdark abode. They barely gave l ight enough to bring out

the objects the encoun tered . This inconven ien ce was madeup for by the reshn ess of the place . On comin g in I feltthe stifl ing weight of the heat , that I had endured so painfully since morn ing, van ish as if by en chan tmen t.My arrival at first seemed to disturb Nikolai Ivanov itch '

s

guests , but when they saw that he greeted me as he wouldon e of his acquaintan ces they were reassured , and finallypaid no atten tion to me . I asked for beer, an d sat down inthe corn er, n ear the peasan t wi th the old smock- frock.

“Well ,” cried Obaldoui sudden ly , after emptying at a

draught the glass of brandy that the in n keeper had givenh im , and following this exclamation by those strange gestures without which he never seemed able to speak a word ,“what are they wait in for ? They should begin , begin .

What do you say to it, achka ?Begin , begin ,

” said Nikolai Ivanovitch in an approvington e .

“We will begin . I am ready , answered the contractorcoldly, and he smiled with con fiden ce. “I am ready.

“And I also ,” said Iachka n ervously.

“Come , begin , my children , begin l” exclaimed Morg atch

in a shrill voice .But in stead of gratifying the

general desire , the singers

were still silent . The con tractor iad n ot even left h is place.The still seemed to be expect ing somethin g.

egin l” said Diki - Barin e , in a brisk, imperious ton e .

Iachka trembled . The contractor arose, readjusted hisbelt, and coughed to clear his voice.“Who will sing first ?” he asked in a somewhat troubled

voice to Diki- Barine , who st ill stood motion less in the middle of the room , his legs spread apart and his hands buriedup to the elbows in his trouser- pockets .You , you , the con tractor !

” cried Obaldoui ;brother. ”

Diki- Barine looked at him askan ce . Obaldoui uttered afew in articulate words , became con fused , raised his head tothe ceil in shrugged h is shoulders , and was silen t .

Drawfots , ” said Diki - Barin e Slowly , “and put the quartof beer on the table !”

190 TNE SINGERS.

Nicolai Ivanovitch stooped down , and took up the measure at his feet and laced it on the table . Diki- Barin eraised his eyes to Iach a and said to him,

“Well !”

The oung man be an to fumble in his pockets , drew outa kopezand bit it . he con tractor raised the skirt of hiskaftan , took out a new leather purse , slowly undid the strin gs ,and turn ed out qu ite a large quan tity of money on the palmof his hand , choo sing the kopek that had the fin est ap

pearan ce. Obaldoui stretched out his dirty cap ; Iachkathrew a kopek in to it , and the contractor d id likewise .“You draw ,

” said Diki - Barin e , addressing Morg atch.

Morg atch smiled , took his hat in his han ds , and began toshake it with an importan t air.The deepest Silen ce prevailed in the room one on ly heardthe dull soun d of the kopeks rattling against each other inthe cap. I looked about me. A ll the faces expressed theliveliest curiosity . Diki - Barin e seemed restless , and evenmy neighbor , the peasan t in the rag ged smock- frock , wascraning his n eck . Mor atch put his hand in his cap an d

drew out the con tractor s kopek . A ll the company g ave asigh of relief ; Iskof blushed , and the con tractor passed h ishan d through his ha ir.

“ I said it was you, exclaimed Obaldoui ; yes , I said so .

Come , come , don’t scold , replied Diki - Barin e scorn fully.

Be‘g lin , he added , n odding his head to the con tractor.hat song shall I sing you ?

” he said with emotion .

Whatever you like ,” an sweredMorg atch .

“Choose ; wewill l isten .

”

Of course we will , said Nikolai Ivanovitch , slowly crossin g his arms . We have no order to give you . Sing whatever you like ; on ly do your best. We will judge con scien

t iously .

”

“Yes , certainly , con scientiously , replied Obaldoui ; and

he be an to l ick the rim of his empty glass .ait , brothers , let me clear my voice a little , said the

contractor, rubbing the black collar of his kaftan .

Come , come , don’t make such a fuss , an swered Diki

Barin e in a ton e of authority, and he bent down his head .

The con tractor kept silen ce for a fewminutes ; then shook

gis head and made a step forward . Iakof rested his eyes onim.

But before begin ning to tell of the con test that was aboutto take place between the two singers , I do not think it outof the way to g ive you a l ittle in formation about the differ

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192 TNE SINGERS.

quite lame and threw himself at his mistress’s feet . Severalears of exemplary con duct caused his fault to be forgotten ;e was finally even taken back into the good g races of h is

o ldmistress , who placed the greatest con fiden ce in him anddid not thin k him unfit to fulfil the duties of steward . After his mistress ’s death he found himself the possessor, oneknew not by what right , of an act of l iberation in dueform ; he was in scribed in the class of bourgeois , en

g iag ed in business , and was now an indepen dent person .

e was a man of large experience , and was n either ood n or

bad , but acted from calculat ion ; he was an old fox , andkn ew men and how to make use of them . He joined prudence to boldn ess , andwas as much of a gossip as an old

woman ; he n ever betrayed himself , and knew thoron hlythe art ofmaking his neighbor talk ; yet he did not a ectsimplicity, l ike a great many other men of this description ,and perhaps it would have been impossible for h im to havedon e so : his shrewd piercing look would not have lent itselfto this . His eyes never appeared to be looking straightahead ; they seemed constantly to be taking in everythingthat was going on . Morg atch sometimes passed entireweeks in thin k i ng over a very ordin ary en terprise , and often ,o n the con trary , he decided without the slightest reflectiono n o ne of the most hazardous steps . One imagined that hewas about to run to destruction but, much to one

’s surprise,

he attained his en ds without the least difficulty. He waslucky , and relied on his luck in everything ; but he was verysuperstitious and believed in omen s. He was n o t liked inthe coun try , and he did n o t try to make an friends there ,yet he was generally respected . His whole amily consistedof one son whom be worshipped , and this wretched creature ,brought up as he was b such a father, is probably calledto a brill ian t career . e is l ike his father in everything,already was said by the old men in a low voice , as the spokeof him, when talking among themselves , seated on t eir l ittle benches , during the long summer even ings : and that wassufficien t ; each of them kn ew the impo rt of these words .As to Iskof the Turk , and the contractor , there is no n eedof my expatiating about them. The first was n icknamedthe Turk because his mother was a woman of that n ationwho had been brought a prison er to Russia . He was, inevery acceptation of the word , an art ist ; but n evertheless hewas a workman in a paper- mill , the proprietor ofwhich wasa merchant. The con tractor must have been , as far as I

TNE SINGERS. 193

could judge, a bourgeois ; he had thequick , decided tonethat is often n oticed amon men of that c ass . We will passon to the portrait ofDiki arine, which we must study withmore care .When on e saw him for the first time , on ewas struck by thecharacter of brute strength that was spread over his wholeperson . Though ill - shapen , he g lowed with health ; andwhat is not the less strange , this man , who was somewhatof a bear, was not wan ting in charm ; it arose perhapsfrom a feeling of unchanging calmn ess that the con sciousn ess of his stren g t h inspired in him. A t first sight it wasdiflicult to describe the stat ion in life of this Hercules ; hecould not belong to the class of dvorovi , n or could he be abourgeois n or a ret ired scribe ; it was impossible to rank himamong the little ruined proprietors, orhun tsmen out of work ,that roved about the coun try ; he was in deed a bein g of avery peculiar kin d . One fine morn ing he appeared in thedistrict, and n o one knew when ce he came ; they said lndeed , it is true , that he was an odnodvoretz retired from serv ice , but the kn ew nothing positive in regard to this . Howwas one to nd out ? One could not assuredly g o to him ;

he was the most loomy and taciturn of men . Nor couldany one make out ow he lived ; he practised n o professionand associated with none of the inhabitants of the coun try.

Yet he had mon ey, or it is better to say he was never inwant of it . As to his conduct , it was not indeed entirelyexemplary ; moderation was n ot his strong point , but he didnot make himself ta lked about . One would have thoughtthat he took n o heed of the people about him, and he n everasked the slightest service of them . Yet Diki - Barin e (hisreal name was Pérévlesof) had great influence in the distriet his advice was taken willingly andwithout hesitation ,

and far from appearing to exact this , he in fact made n o pretension s to it . But his opinion was law : stren h has an

irresist ible empire. He drank but little bran y , lived a

chaste life, and was passionately fond of singin g . Thisstrange man was , in a word , an en igma ; he seemed to shutup in h is breast a mysterious force that he kept there dozing in a fierce repose , because a secret presen timen t warn edhim that once set loose it would destroy everything in itspath , includin him who concealed it : and I am much mistaken ifDiki arine had no t already had these wild outburstsin his l ife ; and if to- day he appeared calm and impassive, itwas because, taug ht by experience of the dangers which he

194 TNE SINGERS.

had esesped, he kept a perfect control over h imself . Finally , I must not forget a trait that had especially struckme : he join ed to a n atural cruelty a great delicacy of feelin g . I have never chanced since to come across such a contrast .I will resume my story , which I in terru ted just as the

con tractor had advanced in to the middle 0 the room . Heshut his eyes a little , and began to sing in a falsetto voicewhich was rather pleasan t , thou h n ot very pure . He playedwith it at will , and passed a ternately from the h ighestnotes to the lowest ; but he preferred to l inger on the first ,which he forced himself to hold with an aston ish ingflexibility of the throat . Now and then he broke off abruptly , andsudden ly resumed with an overpowering zeal . His modulation s were very bold , and somet imes he chan ed h is tonein a very origin al way ; a lover of music would ave listenedwith pleasure , and a German could not have endured it.Hewas a l ight tenor , a la wn : dz

’

g razz’

a in a Russian kaftan . He gave so man y flourishin g s to the words of thesong that he had chosen , that I had a great deal of troublein catchin g a few of them, and amon g others these :

A lit tle patch of land , love,I’ll plough for you

And redflowrets W i th lavish hand, love,Here sow for you.

”

The audien ce l istened veryattentively. He was not un

conscious of the fact that e had to do with in tell igentOple , and that is why he tried to d isplay all his skill .in

gin g was well un derstood in our provin ce , an d the villag e

of erg ievsk , on the border of the Orel h ighway, is t e

nowned through all the Empire for the merits of its singers .

The con tractor exerted himself for a long time before touching his audien ce ; he was n ot encouraged by the company ;but sudden ly the skill with which the singer had justchanged the tone brought a smile of satisfaction to DikiBarin e

’

s face , and Obaldoui could n ot restrain a cry ofadmiration . This feel ing came over all the other peasan ts ;they began to show from time to t ime marks of approval ina low voice. “Good ! still h igher, young man “Come ,coura e , you rogue !

” Come , n ow, you do g ! warm up ormay erodias destroy your soul ! etc . Nikolai Ivanovitch

,

s ittin g on the bar , swayed his head to and fro as a s ignofsatisfaction . Obaldoui beat time with his feet and moved

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196 TNE SINGERS.

V ery well , added Nikolai Ivan ov itch’

s wife, and she

looked at Iskof smil ing .

“ Ah , yes ! ah said my neighbor in a low voice .

Ah ! you PolaR/Ia‘blockhead exclaimed Obaldoui , sudden ly going up to my n eighbor , and he began to jump and

laugh,poin ting at him with his finger. Polekha ! Polekha !

ah Badi / what brought you hereThe poor peasan t became con fused , and was about toleave the tavern , when Diki - Barin e

’

s loud voice was heard .

You in sufferable beast he said , grin ding his teeth .

I am doing n othing, stammered Obaldoui ; “ yes— it ison l

“yCome well , be silen t ! said Diki- Barine. Iakof,

begin .

I don ’t kn ow , brother, said Iakof, carrying his han dto his throat , yes — hem ! I don

’

t know what I feel there ,butCome , replied Diki - Barin e , aren

’

t you ashamed to beafraid ? Begin ! Sing as well as God will let you.

”

And heresumed the attent ive attitude that he had kept while listening to the con tractor.A fter keeping si len ce for a few moments , Iakof lookedabout him and covered his face with his hand . A ll the au

d icace looked at him , and the con tractor’s face , that up to

this time had on ly expressed con fiden ce and satisfact ion ,showed a secret un easin ess. He leaned ag ain st the wall , hishands on the bench , as at the begin n ing of the con test , butno longer swung his legs . When Iakof un covered his face ,it was as pale as death , and his eyes were almost en tirelyshut . He gave a deep sigh and began . The first soun dthat he gave out was weak and trembling ; one would havethought that it did not come from his chest ; it seemed likea distan t echo from afar , and it produced a strange impression . All his audien ce looked at him, andNikolai Ivan ov itch

’

s

wife straighten ed up . The sound that followed was stron gerand more prolonged, but it st i ll trembled l ike the last vibration of a chord ti ht ly strung and touched by a bold hand.

Itwas n ot long be ore his voice grew stronger, and he sang amelan choly song More than on e path leads to the plain .

These words produced a gen eral emotion . As fo r me , I had

1 . Th is n ame is g iven to the inhabitan ts of the woody coun try that begins atthe d istricts of Bo lkhof andJizdra. They are renowned for their obstinacy .

a . An expression peculiar to these people.

TNE SINGERS. 197

rarely heard a more touching voice ; it was , it is true , a l ittleun even , and I even foun d in it an unhealthy weakness mingled with tendern ess , the effect of which was irresistible. Itwas indeed a Russian song, and a so ng that wen t straight tothe heart . Iskof became more and more excited ; completely master of himself , he gave himself up entirely to theinspiration that had taken possession of h im . His voice nolonger trembled ; it no longer betrayed anything but theemotion of passion , that emotion that so rapidly commun icates itself to the hearers . One evening I was by the sea asthe tide was coming in ; the murmur of the waves was becoming more and more distinct. I saw a gull motionless onthe shore , with its white breas t fac ing the purpl ish sea ; fromtime to time it spread its enormous wings and seemed to

greet both the incoming waves and the disk of the sun .

his came to my mind at that moment. Iakof seemed tohave completely forgotten his rival and all those about him ,

but he was encouraged by our silence and the passionateattention that we g ave him . He sang, and each of the notesthat he uttered had something in describably national andvast about them , l ike the horizons of our immense steppes .I began to feel my eyes fill with tears , when sudden l stifledsobs struck my ears . I turn ed. It was the tavern eeper

’

s

wife who was weeping, with her brow pressed again st thewindow. Iskof looked at her, and from that moment thetone of his voice acquired a strength , a sweetness still moreentrancing. Nikolai Ivanovitch bent down his head ; Morg atch turned away ; Obaldoui stood much aflected, withopen mouth ; the peasant in the smock- frock crouched inthe corn er, shaking his head and n i urmurin g un intelligiblewords ; Diki- Barine frowned , and a tear foun d its waydown his bronzed check ; the contractor leaned his forehead on his hand and remained motionless . I do not knowhow this general emotion would have ended if Iskof hadnot sudden l stopped in the middle of a high note . Itseemed as if

,

his voice had broken . No one said a wordevery one kept perfectly st ill . They seemed to expect thathe would go on with his singing ; but he opened his eyesand, as if surprised at our silen ce, looked about the roomun

ilasily He soon became aware that the victory belonged

to im.

Iachka , said Diki- Barin e , rest ing his hand on his shoulder, and he was Si lent .Non e of us moved . The con tractor was the first to rise

198 THE SINGERS.

he went u to Iakof. You— it is you, he said to himwith an e ort ,— “

you have won ; and he abruptly left theroom .

He had hardly gone when the charm under which we allwere was diss ipated ; we began to talk cheerfully among ourselves. Obaldoui gave a jump , chuckling and mov in his

arms about like a windmill . Morg atch hobbled up to akofand began to embrace him . Nikolai Ivanovitch arose and

announced so lemn ly that he offered the assembly a secondmeasure. Diki - Barine smi led , and his smile had a sweetness that con trasted strangely with the usual expression ofhis face. As to my neighbor the peasan t , he wiped his eyes ,cheeks , and beard with the sleeve of his frock and repeatedincessantly in the corn er , It’s fin e ! Yes , may the deviltake me if it is n ot fine ! Nikolai Ivan ovitch ’

s wife wascrimson ; she (

Luickly ot up and wen t out . Iakof enjoyed

his triumph li e a chi d. You would n ot have recogn izedhim his eyes sparkled with happin ess . They drew him upto the bar ; he called the peasan t with the smock- frock , sen tthe in nkeeper’s child after the con tractor, but he could n ot

be found. They began to drin k . You will sing us something more , repeatedObaldoui in cessan tly, raising his arms.

You must sing un til n ight .I left after giving Iakof a last look . I did not care to staythere any longer , for fear of losin g a part of the sweet sensat ion s that I had just felt. But the heat was still intense ;it seemed to have inflamed the atmosphere , and to havebrought out through a fine blackish dust thousands of l ittlebright points which stood out in relief as they turn ed round

an round in the deep blue of the heaven s . Not a soun dwas heard , and there was something distressing about thissilence ; nature seemed fallen into a kin d of desponden cy.

I came to a shed and stretched myself on a bed of newly cutbut already withered grass . It was long before I fell asleep ;I could still hear Iakof

’

s melodious voice . But fatigue andheat final ly got the better of me ; I fell into a deep sleep .

When I awoke it was already night ; the fall ing dew hadwet the hay, and it gave out a very sweet odor ; some starsshon e feebly through the roof of bran ches un der W t h Iwas lying. I got up ; the last rays of twil ight were fadingawa at the horizon , and yet the heat of the day could st illbe elt in the midst of the freshness of the n ight. I stillhad an oppressive feeling o n my chest ; I tried to breathe ina breath of air. The weather was calm , and n o clouds

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200 THE SINGERS.

wishes to give you a thrashing- in g— in g , repl ied the child.

There was no more an swer, and he began to call again ,louder than ever ; but his cries became less distin ct. Iturned the corn er of the woods that leads to my village, fourverstes from Kolotovka. The darkness was intense ; thename of An trOpka still rose up feebly on the plain .

THE HAMLET OF THE TCH I GRI DI STRI CT.201

CHAPTER XV .

THE HAMLET OF THE D I STRICT OF TCHIGRI .

DURING one of my rambles I was asked to dinn er byA lexan der Mikailov itch , a rich proprietor whowas very

fond of shoot ing. His estate was about five verstes from a

l ittle villag e where I was stayin g. I put on a dress - coat thatI brought with me— for it is always well to have a dress- coatwith one, even on shootin excursions— and repaired toA lexander Mikai

‘

lov itch’

s. fiin ner was to be at six . I arrived at five , and found already assembled a n umberof noblesin full- dress un iform, and man y others whose costumes itwould be difficult to describe . The master of the housereceived me very cord ially, and then hurried off to thepan try . He was expecting a grand dignitary , and this circumstance threw him in to a state of ag itation that ill accorded with his fortune and his station in l ife .A lexan der Mikailov itch was a bachelor and did not carefor women ’s society ; he asked only men to his house . Hisestablishmen t was organ ized on a gran d scale ; he hadgreatly in creased it sin ce his father’s death , and he laid inann ual ly a stock of win e from Moscow that cost him fifteenthousan d roubles . In the country about he was greatlyrespected . Long since retired from service , he had t e

n oun ced all honors. How then was it possible to explainthe great excitement un der which he had labored sin ce themorn ing of this solemn dinn er that was to be honored bythe presence of a gran d personage ? It is a mystery thatone must not dream of solv in as a lawyer of my acquain tan ce once said when I askedi im if he accepted the g ratuities that his clien ts offered him .

Left alone , I passed into the rooms where the guests wereassembled . Most of them were en tirely unkn own to me ;twen ty or more person s were already seated around the cardtables . Among the latter were two officers with fin e butrather worn features , and several men in cit izen

’s dress , withvery high cravats and carefully waxed , droopin g mustaches

202 THE HAMLET OF THE TCHI GRI DI STR I CT.

such as are seen on ly upon men en dowed with a resolutecharacter and an imated with good in ten tion s . (These wellin ten t ion ed men shuflied the cards with d ignity , and lookedout of the corn ers of their eyes , without turn ing the ir heads ,at every one who approached them.) There were also fiveor six officials of the district with little roun d paun ches ,moist fat han ds , and heavy feet. (These gen tlemen spokewith a soft voice , scattered sweet smiles about them, heldtheir cards ag ain st their breasts , and took good care n ot tothump the table when play in g a trump ; on the con trary ,

they played their cards with a certain l ig htn ess , and made aen teel l ittle soun d with them as they picked up the tricks .)There were a few gen tlemen seated about on the sofas and

there were also some grouped near the doors and in the embrasures of the win dows. A man of mature years , but whohad somethin g feminine in his appearan ce , was standingalon e in a corn er ; every n ow and then he would give a littlestart andwould blush , and then to con ceal h is embarrassment , although n o one took the sl ightest notice of him, hewould play with the charms that hung from his watch - chain .

Finally , there were several gentlemen in short coats and

checked trousers that d isplayed the art of a Moscow tailor ,who were carryin g on an animated but rather pointless discussion among themselves . A l i ht - haired young man of

about twen ty , but already pale an near- s ighted, seemed to

be very ill at ease ; he was dressed from head to foot inblack , and, to keep himself in coun tenance , smiled sarcast ically at his neighbors’ conversation .

The time was beginn ing to seem somewhat long, when Iwas suddenly accosted by a young fellow of the n ame ofV oin itsine who had n ot yet completed his studies , and whowas l iving with A lexan der Mikailov itch in the capacityof— in fact I do not remember in what capacity he wasl iving with him. He was a good shot and a capital do gtrain er. I had already met him in Moscow ; he then belonged to that class of young men who at examin ations filledthe role of posts — that is to say , who never an swered any ofthe professors’ question s . They were also cal led “whisker'

wearers . ” This is the scen e at the examin ations . Let ussuppose that V o in itsin e is the student to be examined . Hehas been all the while sitting straight and st ill on his ben ch ,covered from head to foot with a feverish erspirat ion , andlookin g about with a dazed express ion . lile immediatelyrises , and button ing his un iform up to his throat he sidles

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204 THE HAMLET OF THE TCHI G’

RI DI STRI CT.

until the end of the examination . As he goes out he exclaims , What a plucking ! just my luck and for the restof the day he wan ders about the streets of Moscow , fromt ime to time grasping his head with both his hands and cursin g the luck that pursues him. But , of course , he neverdreams of open ing a book , and the same scene is re- enactedat the n ext examin ation .

Such is the person who accosted me . We began to talkabout Moscow .

Would you like , he whispered in m ear, “ to have meintroduce you to the wittiest man 0 this part of thecountryI should be del ighted .

V o in itsin e took me u to a small man with mustachesand an enormous head 0 hair who wore a maroon coat anda colored n eck- cloth . His mobile yellow face expressedcausticity and wit . A mockin g smile played about his lips

,

and his l ittle black , twinkl ing eyes shot out from betweenhis uneven lashes the most self- confiden t glan ces . Nearhim stood a dull- witted proprietor who had a delicate , mawkish look andwas bl in d of o ne eye . He could n ot con tainhimself for joy , and would laugh even before h is n eighboropen ed his mouth . V oin itsin e presen ted me to the waggishl ittle personage , whose n ame was Peter Petrovitch Loupekine. and we exchanged the ordinary civil ities .

Permit me,” said Loupekin e suddenly in his shrill voice

at the same time taking the mawkish proprietor b thehand , permit me to presen t to you my best friend . ome,don ’t be bashful , Kirila Sélifan itch , he added ; no one isgoing to bite you . Here he is; andhe pointed to his n eighbor, who bowed awkwardl to me . Here he is . I can

an swer for him as one of t e most honorable of gen tlemen .

Up to the age of fifty he was perfect l well ; but he sudden ly took it into his head that he oug t to take care of hise es , and you see the result , — he is blin d in one eye . Sincet en he has applied the same treatmen t to his peasan ts withthe same success . You can understand that his solicitudefor them has made them all the more devoted to him .

Oh said Kirila Sélifan itch, covered with confusion , andhe began to laugh .

En ough of that , my dear frien d , continued Loupekine.

Come, n ow, it is possible that you may be appoin ted judge ,and, in fact , I am persuaded that fate will overtake you,

although I don ’t wish it for you .

’

I amwell aware that the

THE HAMLET OF THE TCH I GRI DI STRI CT.205

coun sellors would do the thin kin g for you, but you couldnot avoid delivering their opin ions . I suppose that thegovernor goes in to court , and he would not fail to ask whthe judge stopped short every minute . He could be told , Itis true , that you are apoplectic but in that case he wouldprobably order you to be bled , and in your situation thatwould not be at all the thing , would it ?The mawkish proprietor laughed as if he would die .Let him en joy himself, continued Loupekine, looking

wag gishly at the shaking sides of Kirila Sélifan itch.

“ I n

deed , why shouldn’t he laugh he added , turn ing to me.

He is well andhappy ; he has no children ; his estates are n uincumbered he can doctor his peasan ts to his heart ’s con ten t ;and his wife is a great fool . (Kirila Sélifan itch turn edaway , still laug hin , and pretended n o t to hear. )

“ I laughtoo , and yet my wi e ran awa with a surveyor. (He g avea sneering little chuckle.) h , you didn

’t know that ? Ohyes , she g ave me the slip , leaving behind a letter in whichshe said , My dear Peter Petrovitch , forgive me for leavingou ; it is love that takes me from you with my darl ing.

’

he surveyor, it is true , was a man that it was hard toresist ; he didn

’t cut his n ails , and wore tight trousers . Butmy frankness astonishes you ? Well , you know we inhabitants of the Steppe are brutally frank . But let us move backa l ittle and get away from the future jud e .

He took my arm un der his , and rew me towards awindow .

I pass here for a man of wit , he said , resuming the co nversation ; that n o doubt sur rises you . In reality I amonly a soured man who utters reely all that he thin ks ; thatis why I sp

eak so bo ldly . Besides , why should I mincematters ? haven ’t the slig hest respect for the opinion ofmy fellow -beings , and ask n othing at their han ds . I am illn atured , and that fact gives me a great advan tage ; an illnatured man can always pass for a wit . Besides , you haveno idea how ill- nature cools the blood . For in stance , justlook at our host ! What a state he is in to- day ! Why allthis excitemen t ? He does nothing but look at his watchhe smiles ; he is bathed in perspiration ; he makes us all

fast. You would think he had n ever seen a grand personage. Now look ! there he is rushing out again . I reallythought he would fall .And Loupekine uttered a little exclamation of scorn .

Unfortunately there are to be no ladies to day , he te

206 THE HAMLET OF THE TCH I GEJ D I STR IOT.

sumed with a deep sig h . We are to have a dinner ofbachelors . That deprives me of a great deal of pleasure .There ! look ! he exclaimed sudden ly.

“There is PrinceKozelski comin yonder— that great bearded fellow withellow gloves . ou will at once recogn ize the fact that hehas been abroad— he always keeps you waiting. He is afool , and as stupid as an ox ; yet he scarcely con descends tospeak to us little proprietors , and the civil it ies of our poorwives and daughters gain from him on ly a patroniz ingsmile . Still he indulges in a pleasantry , although he doesn ot hon or us long with his presence . But what subtle anddelicate wit ! You would thin k he was cutting a bit ofstring with a dull kn ife ! He can ’t endureme : I will go andpay my respects . And Loupekine bustled up to the prin ce.

Ah , I see my person al en emy , he resumed , as he cameback . Do you see that large bilious- looking man withhair as stiff as hog

’s bristles ? The one looking about him,

and glidin g along by the wall l ike a wolf ? I sold him forfour hundred roubles a horse that was worth a thousan d ;and th is being without a n ame has the right to look downupon me . Yet he is so devoid of in tell igen ce— especially inthe morning before tea , and in the evening afterdin n er— thatwhen you say Good - day to him , he replies Wha- at ? Ah ,

here’s the g en eral , he cont in ued ,“ a gen eral in the civil

service , a ru ined general . He has a daughter of beet- rootsugar and a scrofulous manufactory . Pardon me, I made amistake ; but ou understand . What ! the architect is alsoone of us ? e is a German who wears mustaches and isignorant of h is profession— a strange combination ! 'Butt en of what use would knowledge be to him? It is enoughthat he knows how to make the most of his circumstances ,and to cram pillars in to all the plan s he draws for the n obleswho bel ieve that they are the chief pillars ’ of the district.Loupekine began to laugh , but a sudden movementspread through the ranks of the guests . The master of thehouse rushed into the an te - room . Some of his parasitesand several of the guests followed closely after him. Conversation , that un til then had been very noisy , quieted downinto a l ittle buzzing that recalled the sound of bees aboutthe hives in spring - time. Two person s on ly , Loupekine,

the audacious wasp , and the stupid drone , Kozelski, did notlower their voices . But the king ' of the feast soon appeared .

r. This grand personagewas probably the govern or of the province.

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208 THE HAMLET OF THE TCH I GRI D I STR10T.

(An almost in fan tile look of delight spread over the faces ofthe guests ; on e of them, in deed , was so overcome that alook of gratitude could be seen in his eyes .) For, con tinued the great man , young men are fools . Take , for example , my son Ivan , who is scarcely twen ty ears old ; the otherday he asked my permission to marry. said to him,

‘Idiot,

begin by serving .

’

At that , despair , tears ; but with me thereis n o trifl ing. (These last words were spoken in a hollow.

voice that seemed to come from his stomach ; then the greatman , raising his eyebrows much more than ordinari ly ,looked majestically at the civil ian general at his right , whoi n clin ed his head slightly towards his shoulder and win kedrapidly with his left eye .)

“Now, con tin ued the gran dpersonage , “he writes to me , ‘Than k you, father, for hav ingput reason into the head of an id iot l ike myself . ’ That is theway to act. This little discourse was , of course , receivedwith the greatest favor, and new l ife was given to the feast .As soon as din ner was over , the whole compan y wen t backin to the drawing- room , making, it is true , rather more noisethan when they sat down to the table ; but it was so subduedthat it seemed to be authorized by hlS Excellency . Everyon e took his place at the card- tables ; and after pass ing theeven ing as well as I could in this way , I ordered my coachman to be read at five o ’clock in the morning , and wen t tothe chamber t at had been allotted to me. I hardly suspected that I was again to be called upon that same eveningto make the acquain tan ce of a very curious man .

The number of the guests did n ot permit every one tohave a chamber by himself , so I was in n o way surprised to

see another person un dressing in the little damp chamberwhither I was shown by the steward of A lexan der Mikailov itch. Scarcely had I en tered the roomwhen my companio n slipped in to his bed and pulled the bed- clothes up to hisnose . He moved h is head on his pillow for a little while ;but when he became quiet. I was not slow to remark thatfrom under his huge cotton n ightcap his eyes were followin g all my movemen ts . I wen t to the other bed , and in myturn g ot in between the damp sheets that covered it . Mycompan ion turn ed over, and I wished him good - night . A tthe end of half an hour , I had n ot succeeded in going tosleep . A crowd of confused ideas presented themselvesmost in opportun ely to my min d , and followed each otherwith an obstin ate monoton y and un iformity , l ike the buck ~

ets of a water- wheel .

THE HAMLET OF THE TCH I GRI DI STRI CT.209

I think you are n o t asleep ? said my neighbo r.No ; as you see . It seems that you have n o more desire

to sleep than I haveI never care to sleep .

Why soIt

’

s so ; I fall asleep . I don ’t knowwhy . I go to bed,I fix myself in this way , and I go to sleep .

Why do you go to bed before you wan t to g o to sleep ?What is there to doI did not think it incumbent on me to answer that ques

tion .

“ I am surprised , he continued after a few moments , notto feel the fleas . There ought to be some .I should think you regretted them.

h’

No I don ’t regret them , but I like consisten cy in everyt in

less me , said I to myself,“how he expresses himself !

Mal

n eig hbor remained silent.ill you make a bet he asked suddenly , raising his

voice .

About what ?M neighbor began to interest me .bout what ? Here is something : I know you take me

for an idiot .”

What an idea I answered with astonishment .For an inhabitant of the Steppe , for a rust ic ,— confess .I haven ’t the pleasure of kn owing you,

” I replied , Nowcould you suppose

How ? The very tone of your voice makes me certain ;you reply with a disdainful air. But you aremistaken ; I amnot what you thinkPermit mePermit me to continue . And in the first place let me tell

ou that I speak French as well as you do , and Germanetter. Then , I have passed three years abroad ; I l ived inthe city of Berlin alon e eight months. I have studiedHegel , my dear sir, and I know Goethe by heart . Indeed , Iwas a long time in love with the daughter of a German professor ; but that did n ot preven t me from marryin on mreturn a girl with the consumption . She was bald

g- heade

but remarkable . You see I amount to something. I amn ot a savage of the Steppe , as you thought I was . I am ,

also absorbed by reflection , and there is nothing silly aboutme .

210 THE HAMLET OF THE TCH I GRI DI STRI CT.

I raised my head and began to look at this original bein gwith redoubled surprise . But I foun d it impossible to makeout his features by the feeble rays of the candle that l ightedthe room .

“Ah ! you are looking at me n ow, he continued , adjusting his cotton ni g htcap . And you are probably askin gyourself how it was that you did n ot notice me during theeven ing. I will tell you . It was because I am n ot in thehabit ofspeaking loudly ; because I h ide myself in the crowdbecause I keep behin d a door without open ing my mouth ;because the butler when he passes before me with a dishnever fails to l ift his elbow to the height ofmy breast. A nd

why is this so ? For two reasons : in the first place,I am

poor ; and in the second place , I am resign ed . Con fess : youave n ot not iced meTruly , I have n ot had the pleasure ofOh yes ! yes ! yes ! I kn ew it .

”

He sat up and crossed his arms . The shadow that h isn ightcap cas t upon the wall lengthen ed out un ti l it reachedthe ceil in g.

Con fess , too ,he con tin ued , sudden ly turn ing towards

me,

“ that you take me for a fran k origin al , as they say , o r

something worse. You thin k , perhaps , that I wan t to passmyself off as an origin alYou forceme to remin d you again that I don

’t know you .

He leaned his head forward and appeared to reflect .How is it , he said after a momen t or two ,

“that I havebegun to talk in this strain with you , an un known person ?God alone , yes , God alone can tell . He sighed .

“ It is n o t

apparently by reason of any accord between our souls , forboth you and I are men of the world— that is to say, eg oists .

I can not be of any use to you , and you can have n o interes tin knowing me ; is it not so ? However, sleep avoids us both .

Why should we not talk a while — especiall s ince I am in

the mood to talk , something that seldom appen s to me.

I just told you I was shy . It is true ; but it is not because Iam a poor provin cial without a title , but because I have a

g reat deal of self- esteem. Un der favorable circumstan ces ,however

,—c ircumstan ces that I cannot foresee n or defin e ,

it often happens that I lose completely my natural timidity .

That is the case to- day. You could bring me face to facewith the Gran d Lama himself , and I should n o t fear to askh

l

im f

g ’r a pin ch of sn uff. But perhaps you wan t to g o to

s cep

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212 THE HAMLET OF THE 7'

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I GRI DI STRI CT.

the title than your humble servant. I verily believe I wascreated and put into the world upon the model of some on e

else ; I assure you it must be so . It seems as if my life wereo ne continual imitation . I copy the writers I have studied ;I live by the sweat of my brow. In a word , I have educatedmyself, I have loved , I have married ag ainst my will , as itwere , as if to fulfil a duty or to conform to a comman d

,

God kn ows it !He pulled off his n ightcap and flun

git upon the bed .

Shall I tell you the story of my li e he asked abruptly,

or rather some episodes in my l ife ?Do me that favor .Or rather— n o , I will first tell you about my marriage .

Marriag e is one of the most importan t even ts in l ife , —thetouchston e of existence Man is reflected in it as in a mirror. But the comparison is rather hackneyed . I must takea in ch of snuff. ”

e pulled out his sn uff- box from un der h is pillow, openedit , and began to talk afresh , gest iculating all the while withhis snuff- box in his han d .

You must , my dear sir, en ter thoroughly into my position . What profit was there , I ask you

— yes , what profit,could I get out of He el

’

s encyclopaedia ? Have the kin dness to tell me that. hat can there be in common between that en cyclopaedia and the method of l ife among usRussian s ? How would you apply to our customs not on lythat encyclope dia , but German philosophy in general ? Imay add even— scien ce ?He started up in h is bed , and, grinding his teeth , con tinued :Oh, that is the case ? Really ? Why then did you g o toforeign countries ? Why did you n ot stay at home to getsome knowledge of what is about you ? You would havelearned the wants and the future of your coun try , and at thesame time you would have cleared up , as they say , the quest ions that most nearly affect your own existen ce . Tell me,

n ow,

” he con tinued in an altered ton e , as if he had soughtto excuse himself with t imidity , how could we kn ow whatn o savant had ever written in a book ? I would have beenglad to follow her lesson s— the lesson ofRussian life ; but sheis silent , the clear one ! Understan d me ,

’ she says , ‘ in thatway , sim ly .

’ But I am not capable of that . I must have acompen ium, deduction s all made . Really ? Deduct ions ?They will be furn ished for you , and fine ones . Listen amoment to our Muscovites— they are perfect n i g htin g ales.

THE HAMLET OF THE TCH I GRI DI STRI CT.21 3

But there is the difficulty : they sing like perfect n ig ht in

gales of the Koursk , and don’t speak like men . I began to

reflect . ‘Knowledge ,’ said I , ‘ought to be the same every

where . ’ And there I was , by God’

s help , in a foreign country— in the midst of unbelievers . What could you expect ?Youth and pride had turned my head. I d id no t care todrown myself in fat , as the saying is , before my time , althou h good people say one is no worse off. However, heto w om n ature has vouchsafed n o flesh is sure never tohave fat on his body.

But ,” he added after a momen t of reflection ,

“ I bel ieve Iromised to tell you about my marriage . Listen , then . Butfore beginning I must warn you that my wife is n o lon ger

of this world . and that I shall be forced to tell you about myearly life , for without I did so you would un derstan d nothin g . I take it for granted you have no desire to sleep ?Non e at all .Good ! Listen then carefully , as in the next Chamber

Kan tag ri’

oukine is snoring in a most in decen t mann er.My paren ts were n o t rich . I say ‘my paren ts ’ because ac

cording to tradition my mother had a husband . I don ’tremember him : he was said to be a very ordinary man witha long nose marked with moles . He had red hair, and tooksnuff only in one nostril . My mother had his portrait in herchamber : he was represen ted in a red un iformwith a blackcollar that came up to his ears ; n othing could be morerid iculous . I was made to g o before this picture to bewhipped , and my mother alway told me, poin ting at it , Hewould n o t l ike that . ’ You may understan d how I felt athearing this . I had n either brothers nor sisters . I had had ,if you wish to know it , at one time a bit of a sickly brotherwhose neck was twisted out of shape by the English malady;but he did n ot last long. How was it that the Englishmalady had reached the district ofTchig ri in the governmentof Koursk ? But that has n othin g to do with the presen tsubject . My mother took charge of my education with allthe unbridled ardor of a woman of the Steppe . Shewatchedover it from the ever- memorable day of my birth un til mysixteenth year . Do you follow the thread of the story ?

Perfectly ; go on .

”

Well, when I reached my sixteenth year my mother without further ado sen t off my French tutor,— A lleman d Fil ipov itch , a Greek from Nej ine,— took me to Moscow, put myn ame down at the university, and rendered up her soul to

214 THE HAMLET OF THE TCHI GRI DI STRI CT.

the Lord , after first confidin g me to the tender care of myuncle , the attorney Koltoun Barboura , a b ird of prey whosereputation extended far beyon d the confines of the districto f Tchig ri. My uncle the attorn ey , as was his way , plundered me without mercy ; but this again has nothing to dowith the subject . I must do my mother the justice to saythat I was well prepared for the course at the univers ity ;but even then the total wan t of original ity that I reproachmyself with had become n oticeable in my way of l ife . Mych ildhood was in n owise differen t from that of many otherchi ldren . Weaken ed by a too rapid growth , I was as sicklyas if I had grown up un der an cider- down quilt. I began to

recite verses that I had learned by heart , and , as is alwaysthe case , I was credited with having a n atural talent for— i’

faith , I don’t know what— o h yes , for the ideal . I spare you

the rest . At the university it was the same. I soon joined asmall club of young men . There were then other customs .But perhaps you don ’t know what I mean by the wordclub ’ It was Schiller, I think , that said ,

Man fears the lion ’s kin ly tread ,

Man fears the tiger's an g s of terrorBut man himself ismost to dreadWhen mad with social error.

’ 3

No,it wasn ’t that he in tended to say ; it wasn

’t that. He

in tended to say, There is a little club in the town of Moscow.

’

“Why does a club of friends inspire you with such horror I asked .

“Do you ask me that ? he exclaimed . I will tell you.

A club of friends— it is a gulf that swal lows up all in dependen ce of character. A club of friends takes the place of

society ; it thrusts women to one side ; it brings in to contempt all exchan ge of ideas and sen timen ts. A club of frien ds

- oh , wait a little and I will tell you what it is . A club o ffrien ds is n othing but an easy, idle l ife that borrows the ap

pearan ce of a sensible pursuit ; in such assemblages conversation takes the place of exercise of the in telligen ce ; a habitof gossip is acquired ; sol itary work , that is really product ive ,becomes d istasteful ; l ittle by l ittle there comes a cursed

x . Koroujok , or club . This n ame wasgiven to little assemblages of oung

men who grouped themselves about one 0 their n umber. These assem lageshad a great dea l to do with the literary and scien tificmovemen t that took placei t! Russra from 1 83 5 to 1 845.

a . Schi ller’s Song of the Bell , ” Lord Lyt ton 's translation .

3 . Das rst Kroujok mder Stadt Moskau.

"

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216 THE HAMLET OF THE TCHI G'

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mastery. I alon e. unfortunate that I am —I alone kn eadedmyself with my own hands l ike a piece ofwax without theslightest opposition from my sad n ature . However, timehad moved on and I had reached my twenty- first ear. Ien tered upon the enjoymen t of my fortune— or, to c moreexact , upon so much of my patern al heritage as my un clehad condescended to leave me . I put my property into thecharge ofa freedman named V as sil i Koudriachef, and set outfor Berlin . I spent three years , as I have had the honor totell you already , in foreig n parts . Well ! I found myselfthere , as here , a bein W ithout a spark of originality . Inmy travels I acquire n o knowleg e at all of the differentcountries of Europe ; I l isten ed to German professors , andread books written in that language in the place of thei rpubl ication . That was the on ly difference . I lived a life assecluded as a monk’s . My associates were several retiredl ieutenants who , l ike myself, were possessed with the thirstfor knowledge , but whose intell igen ce was rather dull andwho were n o t endowed in the sli

ghtest de

gree with the gift

of words. I hung about some ussian amilies from theGovernment of Penza and other governments renown ed forag riculture ; I frequen ted the cafés ; I read the papers ; andI wen t to the theatres. My relations with the in habitan tsof the country were very sl ight ; l preserved my habitualreserve in talking with them , and received no one at mylodging s , with the exception of two or three young Israel iteswhom I could n ot shake off, and who on the strengthof my being a Russian were continually borrowing moneyofme . But a strange accident took me to the house of o neofmy professors : I will relate it to you . I called upon himto

put my name down for his lectures , and he thought of n othing better to do than to ask me to spend the evening with him.

He had two daughters who were about thirty years of ag e ;theywere lively , buxom girls , with prominent noses , curly hair,

an light blue eyes ; they had red hands and white nails ;but the blessings of heaven be with them ! One of themwas called Linchen , and the other Minchen . I began to haun tthe professor’s house . I must say that he was not a fool , itis true , but only a bit cracked . In publ ic he spoke clearlyen ough , though in private he stuttered horribly, and pushedhis spectacles up on his forehead ; but for all this he wasa very learned man . But this again has nothing to do withthe story . As luck would have it , one fine day I thoughtmyself in love with Lin chen . For more than six months I

THE HAMLET OF THE TCHI GRI DI STRI CT. 217

remain ed in a state of un certainty. It is true we spoke verylittle to each other, and I generally contented myself withgaz ing at her ; but I read her sent imental composit ions ,squeezed her hand in secret , and in the evening I would losemyself in revery by her side , with my eyes fixed steadfastlyo n the moon— or rather I should say I sat with my eyesturned up. But you should have tasted the coffee she madefor us ! That alone should have been enough . But I stillhad one cause of anxiety. Figure to yourself that in mysweetest ecstasies I felt a strange sensat ion at my heart and

a thrill would run through my body . At last I could n o

longer endure such happin ess , and I fled . I passed two moreyears in foreign parts ; I visited Italy , and stood in Romebefore the Transfiguration , and in Florence before the V en us .

There it happened that I had an attack of exaggeratedenthusiasm ; it was l ike a veritable fever. In the even ingI set myself to writ ing verses ; I began a journ al : in aword , I conducted myself l ike the generality of travellers .Thus, for exam le, I know nothin g whatever about paintingor sculpture . ought to have acknowledged this . But n o ;I must take a Cicerone and go to admire the frescos .Again he lowered his head and pulled off his nig htcap .

“At length I resumed my journey , he cont inued in a

weary voice , “and reached Moscow . A n astonishing changecame over me. During my travels I had been taciturn ; atMoscow , on the contrary , I began to gossip with the greatestvolubil ity , and Heaven on ly knows what a high Opin ion Iconceived of myself. I met men who pushed indulgenceeven to the extent of con siderin g me as a gen ius ; theladies listened with in terest to my endless recitals . ButI was n ot able to sustain myself upon this glorious pedestal .One day I learned that there was in circulation a bit of

gossip about me (I don’t kn ow who started it ; but it was

probably one of those old Bettys of the male sex that areplenty in Moscow) . However that may be , the story grewvisibly , and even put forth little whiskers as one sees ast rawbe do . I flared up and tried to break the stickylines , but on l succeeded in gett ing caug ht in them . Fi nallyI decamped. hly con duct on this occasion was , as you see,idiotic . I ought to have waited patiently for the end of thiscrisis , as one waits for an attack of fever to pass ; and thenthe worthy people who had received me so well would haveagain opened their arms to me ; the ladies who had lent acomplaisant ear to my dissertations would have once more

218 THE HAMLET OF THE TCHI GRI DI STRI CT.

smiled o n me . But the fact is that there was nothing orig in al about me . I felt ashamed , my dear sir, of the part Iplayed ; my con scien ce reproached me with passing my timein goss iping in every co rner of Moscow— yesterday at Arbat,to - day at Trouba , ‘ and to - morrow somewhere else— butalways upon the same subject . But it was required of me,you may say . Think a moment how the men who shine inthis career act ; they have n o scruples ; on the con tra theyfeel that they are in their elemen t. There are some 0 themwho work with their tongues for twen ty years , and always inthe same direction . But one must have a larg e share of selfconceit and a great deal of confidence in on e ’s self. Thet rouble was that , having, as I have told you , n o original ity ,I stopped half way ; nature ought to have given me moreself- con fiden ce or else have deprived me of it altogether. Isoon became very ill at ease ; besides , my travels had almostexhausted my resources , and I had n o stomach to marry theawkward daughter of some shop- keeper. That is why Ireturned to my estate . It seems to me, added myn eighbo r, regard ing me askan ce , “ that I may as well om itthe first impression s I received froma coun try life , the sightof n ature, and the calm en joyment that solitude affordedme.

”

Yes , of course , I replied .

The more so ,

” continued my neighbor , because all thatis non sense ; at least that is my opinion . The l ife that Iled in the country was as melancholy as that of a chaineddog . Nevertheless , when upon my return I passed in theSpring - time through the birch woods , every nook and cornerof which were famil iar to me , I experienced a feeling ofdizz iness and a swellin g of the heart , so vivid was the con

fused sense of expectation that agitated me. But this un definable expectation is n ever, as ou know , realized , and inits stead come other un looked or events , such as distempers

,delays in ren t , sheriff

’s sales , etc . etc. It was thusthat I passed my life as well as I could for the first seasonsafter my return . I was assisted by aburg omaster of the n ameof Iakof, whom I selected in the place of my old steward ,andwho roved to be , as the even t showed , still less trustworthy t an his predecessor. and who had , moreover, thefurther d isadvan tage of embittering my l ife b the smell oftar that his boots emitted . But on e fine day remembered

x . ! uarters ofMoscow.

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220 THE HAMLET OF THE TCHI GRI DI STRI CT.

the time of Catherine . Upon the wall hung a portrait represen ting a young woman with light hair and Ian ishin geyes pressing a pigeon to her bosom . Upon the tab e was avase of freshly picked roses — you see I forget nothing. Itwas in that room andupon that terrace that was played thetragi - comedy of my loves . The mistress of the house wascon tin ually hoarse from the effects of bursts of temper .She was of a quarrelsome , tyran nic disposition , a veritableshrew . Of her two daughters , V era was in no wa disting uishable from the run of provin cials ; the other, Ophy ,

she is the one I loved . The two s isters had a bedroom to

gether. It was a room n o t so large as the drawing- room,i n

wh ich were two innocen t l ittle wooden bedsteads, somealbums yellow with ag e, a few portraits of friends— men andwomen— poorly enou h drawn in pencil . Remarkable aboveall was the portrait o a gen tleman whose face expressed anun common energy of character, and at the foot of whichwas an inscription not less en ergetic. It represented ayoun g man who after excit in g reat hopes was lost in thecrowd, l ike the rest of us . hlS l ittle chamber con tain edalso a few pots of mignonette , busts of Goethe and Sch i ller

,

a few German books , several withered garlands and otherkeepsakes of the same kind . I rarely entered this modestretreat . I did n ot l ike to be there ; I felt a sen sation ofOppression , I know n ot why . Then— it is truly singularSophy pleased me most when I had my back turned towardsher, and when I mused and dreamed more or less about herupon the terrace in the evening. I would watch then thelast glimmerings of the twil ight , and the trees whose l ittlegreen leaves , al ready in the shade , were sharply outl in edagainst the rosy tint of the sky . Sophy was then in thedrawing- room playing over for the hundredth time a favoritepassage of Beethoven whose melody was filled with sadn ess .Her old mother snored peaceably on the sofa. V era re

main ed . in the dining- room , which was inundated with areddish l ight ; she was making the tea. The samovar gaveforth a sonorous murmur that had a charm all its own ; itseemed to rejoice . The cracknels broke with a cheery littlesoun d . There was the silvery t inkling o f the tea- spoonsagain st the cups . A canary that had been singing madlysin ce morn ing sudden ly became silent and conten ted himself with uttering an occasional chirp ; he seemed to be addressin g quest ion s to some o ne. A few drops of water fellfrom a tran sparent cloud that passed over us . I sat and

THE HAMLET OF THE TCH I G'

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l istened , and l istened and looked , and it seemed as if Iloved again . At last on e even in g after o n e of these scenesI asked the old lady for the hand of her daughter ; and twomonths later we were married . I thought I loved her ; evennow I am n ot sure that I did n ot love Sophy . She was a

good creature , and, althou g h rather un communicative , shed id not lack either intelli g ence or sen sibilit However,whether it was to be attributed to her l ife in t e coun try orto some other cause , I know not ; but certain it is that at thebottom of her heart (I am supposing that her heart had abottom) there was a secret woun d , or , better , a disease thatreyed steadily upon her, and that it was impossible to cure .

She took n o notice of it herself , and I could on ly thin k ofit. It was not un t il after our marriage , be it understood ,that I discovered this . What did I not do to cure it ! It wasall in vain ! When I was a boy I had a l ittle finch that a catone day seized in its claws ; it was snatched away at once ;but in spite of all our care the poor l ittle finch n ever en

t irely recovered . It sat upon its perch with its feathers allruffed up ; it pined away visibly and sang n o more . Finally,to crown its misfortunes , a rat got into the ca e one n ightand hit its bill ; this last mishap determin ed its ate. I don

’tknow what cat had held my wife in its claws ; but it is certain that she pined like my poor finch . Sometimes she wasseized with an eviden t desire to shake oflthis lethargy, toplay in the Open air and sun l ight ; she would resolve to doso , but would soon return to roll herself up in her corner.Still she loved me. Howman times did she not tell methat she had nothing to desire But may the devil take it !death was in her eyes as she told me this . Perhaps ,

’ thou g htI , ‘there is some secret in her past l ife .

’

I made inquiries ,but d iscovered n othing. Now judg e for yourself a man oforiginal ity would have shrugged hlS shoulders , would haveperhaps heaved a few sighs , but would have en ded by beinresigned . Instead of conduct ing myself in this man n er,began to contemplate the beams of my shed . My wife preserved all the habits o i an old maid . Beethoven , walks atnight , mignonette , corresponden ce with her frien ds , heralbums , etc. She could n ot accustom herself to a d ifferentmanner of life , but especially to the housekeeping. However, I confess it is extremely ridiculous to see a young married woman a prey to an undefin able melancholy and singing every evening, Ne la revez

’

llepas, I’

aurore.

’

1 . A romance very popular in Russia.

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Such is the happy existence that I led for three years .

Sophy died in giving birth to her first child in the fourthyear of our married life ; and, strange to say , I had a presentiment that she would give me n o offspring , and that thebeing with which she was about to en dow t he earth wouldn ot hve upon it . I sti ll remember wel l the fun eral . It wasin the spring . The church in our parish is small and o ld ;the z

’

konostase‘is blacken ed by age ; the walls are bare ; the

bricks with which the in terior is paved are broken in man yplaces ; on each side of the choir is an old image. The cofi n

was carried there and placed in the middle of the churchbefore the gate of the ikonostase ; it was covered with an

old pall , and three can dlesticks were placed about it . Theservrce began . A n o ld sub - deacon wearin g a little queueand whose green sash was below his loins - chan ted sorrowfully before the lectern . The priest was also an o ld man ;he could hardly see ; but he had a good little face . Thepriest fulfilled at the same time the duties of a deacon . Thewin dows were wide open and let in the scent of the fieldsand murmur of the weeping birches , whose tender leaveswere moving in the breeze the reddish glare of the candles

gal ed before the golden light of the beautiful spring day.

he twittering of the sparrows soun ded through the church ,

and at t imes was heard the full or of the swallow echoedfrom the cupola . In the midst o motes made golden bythe beams of the sun were fall ing and rising the whiteheads of several peasan ts who were praying devoutly for thedead . A delicate thread of blu ish smoke curled up fromthe cen ser. I kept my eyes fixed upon the face of my wife .

’

My God ! death , death itself had n ot cured her, had n ot

closed the wounds of her heart : there was still that muteexpression of mental suffering and constrain t ; she seemedun easy even in her coffin . I felt in my heart a profoun d bitterness . She was a good , an excellen t creature ; but shehad don e well for her own happin ess to die .

At this point the checks ofm companion became flushed ,and his eyes dull and heavy. Hut he recovered h imself immediately , and con tin ued in these words:“When the sorrow that took possession of me after thedeath ofmy wife had en t irely d isappeared , I made arrange

x . A rail ing that in Greek churches separates the altar fromthe choir ; it iscovered w rth images .

2 . 1n Russia the c fiunto the g rave.

o n remains uncovered mm] the momen t i t Is lowered

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224 THE HAMLET OF THE TCH I GRI DI STRI CT.

ished origin . I expressed what I thought without reserve ;fu

con fess I con s idered I was much superior to Orbassanof.The Ispravn ik looked at me , struck me a frien dly tap on theshoulder , and said in a good - n atured way , Ah, Vassil i V assilitch , it is not formen l ike you and me to pass judgment onsuch people ; it is n on e of our busin ess : a cricket shouldknow its own corner. ’ How ?

’

I replied angrily, ‘it seemsto me that Orbassan of and myself are perfectly equal . ’ TheIspravn ik took his pipe from ‘his l ips , opened his eyes wide,and burst in to a roar of laughter. ‘Joker ! ’ he exclaimedwhen the fit of hilarity permitted h im ,

‘that is too good ajoke ! You

’re a good one !’

The Is ravn ik cont in ued torally me un til the moment he left . e soon began to ad

dress me in the most famil iar manner, and to give me an

occas ional nudge with his elbow . He departed ; but thisl ittle scene brought me to my sen ses. The cup was alreadyfull

, and it needed but a drop to make it run over. The visitof the Ispravn ik was that drop . I beg an to pace the room ,

and , stopping before a mirror , I exammed for a long timemy troubled features ; I ran out my tongue gently , and began to shake my head with a smi le of irony. The scales hadat last fal len from my eyes , and I saw clear] the reflect ionof

'my features in the mirror, and how far was a being ofn o value , useless , a man without origin ality .

My companion stopped .

“ I think I remember, he resumed sorrowfully, that V oltaire has depicted in one of his tragedies a man who rejoicesin having reached the utmost l imits of misfortun e. A lthoughmy destiny presents nothing tragic , I cann ot help comparingmyself with this personag e . I have learned to kn ow thebitter tran sports of a reason ing despair. I kn ow the happin ess that comes from lying in bed in the morn ing and cursing for hours with perfect deliberation the day and hour o fmy birth . It required a little time to bring back my calmn ess ofmin d ; but that is n atural enough : judge for yourself .The wan t of mon ey kept me in that village that I detested .

Neither domestic l ife , n or service . n or l iterature— nothing, i nfact , had succeeded with me. I shun ned the society of then eighborin

gproprietors ; reading had no charms for me ;

and sin ce had given upmy gossiping and my enthusias t icdescriptions , our young ladies of sen timental turns of min dand dropsical figures , who were always ready to exclaim,

01: !a Hie ! in a state of feverish exaltation ,with a shake

of the ir rmg lets , n o lon g er deigned to accord me the slig h t

THE HAMLET OF THE TCH I G'

RI DI STRI CT. 225

est attention . It was impossible for me to live in absolutesolitude ; and besides I should never have succeeded. Doyou know the course I took ? I began to run after all theneighboring proprietors . I was as o ne drunk with d isg ustfor myself, and I volun tarily sought all the petty hum i l iation s that could sin k me st ill lower in their eyes . The servan ts d id not wait upon me at the table ; the master of thehouse received me coldly , and ended by paying n ot the slightest attention to me. I was n ot perm itted to take part in thegen eral conversation , and so I ret i red to the corner and beg an to devote myself to the task of sustain ing with appreciat ive exclamat ions the remarks of some idiot who a fewyears before at Moscow would gladly have kissed the prin t ofmy foot or the hem of my cloak . I d id n ot even permit myself to believe that by acting in this way I was giving myselfup to the bitter joys of iron And besides , can one divertone ’s self when on e is alon e That is the way I l ived forse

f

zv

l

e

z'

al successive years , and I have n ot changed my mode0 1 e .

That resembles nothing, g rowled at this moment in thenext chamber Kan tag rioukin e. What id iot is it that takesit in to his head to talk there in the middle of the n ightMy companion hid his head quickly under the bed- clothes ,and then , un covering himself a l ittle, looked timid ly at me ,shakin

ghis finger.

Ts ts hemurmured , as if he were bowing and demandin g pardon o f Kan tag rioukine in the other room . He

added very soon in a respectful ton e : Pardon me ; pleaseto pardon me . He is permitted to sleep , he has a right tosleep , he continued in a low voice ; “ he must recover hisstrength , were it only that he might be able to eat with thesame a petite to morrow. We have n o right to disturb hisrest . esides I think I have told you all I have to say , andit is very probable that you too want to sleep . I wish yougood - n ight .The s eaker turn ed quickly towards the wall and buriedhis hea in the pillows .Permit me ,

” I said , to ask your n ame .He l ifted his head abruptly .

No ; in the n ame of heaven , do not ask my name , and donot seek to discover it ! My n ame will remain forever n uknown to you , a V assil i V assilitch cruelly tried by fate .Besides I have nothing really original in me, and I do n ot

deserve a name ofmy own . However , if you must give me

226 THE HAMLET OF THE TCH I G’

RI DI STRI CT.

one,call me the Hamlet of the district of Tchig ri . There

are some of these Hamlets in every district, though perba sou haven ’t met any of themyet . Adieu ; sleep well .

” ehuried his head ag a in under the pillows and when I wascalled in the morn ing he was n o longer in the room . He

had left before daybreak .

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228 THE RENDEZVOUS.

invaded the wood and spread through them with its lowmurmur. The leaves of the birches were sti ll for the mostpart reen , but of a green already very pale ; here and therecoul be distinguished a few n ew leaves all red or of a

golden yellow. Then it was a sight to see them kin dle. asa sunbeam lided in , fleckin g in its course with many colorsthe n etwor of l ittle dripping bran ches through which it

passed . Not a bird was s inging ; they remained crouchedin silen ce under the leaves : the finch alon e at t imes utteredits mocking c that echoed through the silence l ike thesound of a stee bell .Before reaching this wood ofbirches I had passed through

a forest of magnificen t aspen s . I confess I do not l ike thesetrees with their pale l ilac bark and grayish , metal l ic- lookingverdure that they spread out l ike a trembl ing fan I do n o t

l ike the con stant swaying of their d irty roun d leaves . awkwardly attached to their long stems . The aspen is beautifulonly on certain summer evenings when , towering from aplain of bushes, it catches the rays of the setting sun : itSparkles andtrembles ; a ellow andreddish lig ht inun dates itfrom top to bottom . he aspen pleases me too in clear,windy weather. It rustles and sways in the gusts , and eachleaf carried out b the motion seems for the moment toseparate and take ig ht into the fields about . But gen erallyI disl ike aspen s ; and it was for that reason that I had passedthrough the first woods without stopping, and had takenrefuge under a birch whose lower branches were but a shortd istance from the ground and therefore afforded me a shelterfrom the rain . A fter admiring for a time the spectacle thatwas before me , I ended by fall ing into that calm deep sleepthat is vouchsafed only to sportsmen .

I do not know just how long I slept , but when I awoke thewhole interior of the woods was filled with sun l ight , and theazure of the sky that pierced everywhere through the foliageseemed to sparkle with light . The clouds had disappearedbefore the puffs of a ca ricious wind . The stormhad clearedaway

, and the air had t at peculiar dry freshn ess that fills theheart with a feel ing of relief , and almost always an nouncesthat a calm clear even ing is to succeed a rainy day. I wasabout to arouse myself in order to con tin ue my sport , whenmy eye l ighted on a human form that was restin g motionlessin the woods . I looked carefully : it was a young peasantgirl . She was about twen ty feet from me , with her headbent forward in a pensive manner and her hands resting

THE RENDEZVOUS. 229

n egligently on her knees on e of them was half opened andalmost en t irely con cealed by a large n osegay ofwild flowers .

The breast of the young dreamer was heaving , and at eachmovemen t the flowers sl ipped over her striped skirt. Thewhite waist that she wore was closed at the throat andwrists , and clun g to her figure in short soft folds ; a doublerow of large yellow pearls went round her neck and fellupon her breast. She was pretty. Her li ht brown hairwas divided into two coils , carefully smoothe and supportedby a w

?n arrow red ban d that surmounted a forehead like

ivory. he rest of her face was covered with that goldentan that is pecul iar to fin e delicate skins . I could n ot makeout her eyes , for she kept them cast down ; but I remarkedher long eyelashes , her delicately arched eyebrows , and herhumid lids ; on one of her cheeks was the trace of a tearthat had stopped at her pale lips . Her nose was a triflethick and short , but it was in n o way out of keeping with therest of her features , which , as I have remarked , were verypleas ing. The expression that an imated them was full ofcharm ; it indicated the gen tleness , the modesty , and thenaive melan choly of a child that can n ot yet reason aboutits griefs. It was easy to see that she was waiting for someone. A slight crackl ingwas heard in the woods , and she immediately raised her head and looked about ; then I sawshin ethrough the tran sparen t shade that surroun ded her, her eyes ,l impid and timorous as those of a gazelle . She l isten edatten tively for a few momen ts , with e es turned in the dircet ion of the crackl ing, sighed , then s owly turned her head ,and, ben ding it lower than before , beg an to sort carelesslythe flowers on her knees . Her eyel ids were red ; a bittersmile crossed her l ips ; and an other tear escaped from herlong lashes and g l ided glistening down her cheek .

About half an hour passed in this way. The poor girl didn ot stir from the spot ; at times she would move her armssadly and listen— and l isten . Again something stirred in thewoods : she trembled . The soun d con tin ued ; it becamemore d ist in ct. It came n earer , and I perceived that it wasmade by some o ne walking at a rapid pace . The girl drewherself up and appeared frightened ; her watchful lookseemed to tremble , but it soon lit up with hope . A man wasseen advan cing quickly through the thicket . As soon as

she was reassured the color mounted suddenly to her cheeksand a joyous smile spread over her l ips ; but she fell backalmost immediately pale and ag itated , and remained so

23 0 THE RENDEZV003 .

until the man who was approaching stop d by her side ;then she l ifted to him a look tender, fear ul , andwell - n ighsu plicating.

emain in g crouched in my hiding- place , I examined thisman atten tively , and the impression he produced upon mewas n ot at all agreeable . He was , to judge from appearauces , the favorite valet of some rich young proprietor of then eighborhood . His dress betrayed his preten sions to goodtaste and elegant negligen ce ; he wore a bron ze- colored shorttop - coat , buttoned to the throat ,— probably a piece of hismaster’s cast- offclothing, — a pin k- colored cravat with yellowends , and a cap of black velvet with a g old ban d and a

vizor coming down close over his forehead. The roun dedcollar of his white shirt cut his cheeks pitiless ly and reachedto his ears ; his starched cuffs covered hal f his fingers , whichwere red and shapeless ; but he had on several rin of goldand silver ornamented with small turquoises . is red,

impudent face was one of those that , as far as I could makeit out are to men insupportable , but unfortunately , it mustbe said , frequently enough charm women . He evidentlyendeavored to give to his rather coarse features an expression of scorn ful indifferen ce. He was con tinually winkinghis light g ray eyes , which , but for this , were already almostimperceptible . He assumed an air of superiority , loweredthe corn ers of his mouth , yawn ed affectedly, stroked in anofi- hand way the reddish curls of his carefully arran gedhair, and twisted the little yellow hairs that bristled on hisupper l ip ; in a word , he gave himself airs of the mostrid iculous affectation . He had put on these affected mann ers as soon as he saw the young peasan t waiting for h im .

When he had drawn slowly n ear her with measured steps , hestopped , shrugged his shoulders , thrust his han ds into thepockets of his top- coat , and after boh ot in the poor girl witha passin g. in different glan ce , he sat bimse f with deliberationat her side .“Well ,

” he said with a yawn , continuing to look in theother direction , and stretching one of his legs , have youbeen here long ?The girl remained a few moments without power to

answer.Yes , I have , V ictor A lexandritch , she said at length in

a low voice.A h, he repl ied . taking off his cap and pass ing his hand

g ravely through his thick hair that g rew almost down to his

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3 2 THE RENDEZV0US.

peasant. But you have , however, n o education ; so youmust l isten carefully when I give you advice.You frig hten me , V ictor A lexandritch .

”

Now what folly that is , my dear ! Is there really anthing to be frighten ed about ? But what have you therehe asked , movin n earer to her. Flowers ?”“Yes , sa id A oulin a sadly , “ there is some field- milfoil ,she contin ued , brighten ing a little ; it is good for calves .There is some plan ta in it cures king’s evil . See what aqueer l ittle flower that is ; I never saw on e l ike it. Hereare some ermanders , and beside them are violets . This isfor you, s e added holding up a little bunch of bluets tiedwith a bit of grass . Do ou want them ?The young valet reache out his han d and took the n ose

g ay ; he smelt of the flowers unconcern edly , and began to

crush them between his fingers , l ift ing his eyes towards thesky with a thoughtful , importan t air. Akoulin a looked athim , and there was in her eyes an expression of tenderness ,devotion , and love that was truly touching . On e could see

that the fear of displeasing him alone stopped her tears ; butthat she was taking leave of him and admiring him for thelast time . As for h im , he remain ed stretched out l ike asultan , and seemed to receive her homage with a t rul noblecondescension . I con fess that his red face— whose ook ofassumed in difference could n ot conceal a feel ing o f satisfiedself- conceit— in spiredmewith a profound disgust . Akoulina

was so pretty at that moment ! She had open ed her heartand abandon ed herself entirely to him ; while he— he letthe bun ch of flowers drop upon the grass , took from thepocket of his coat an eye- glass with a bronze setting, andtried to fix it in h is eye ; but it was in vain that he scowled ,and screwed up his cheek , and twisted his n ose— the glasswould fall in to his han d .

What have you there ? asked the girl with a look ofaston ishment .

A n eye- glass , he replied .

What is it for ?”

To see better with .

Let me t ry it .V ictor looked an n oyed , but he handed the eye- glass to her.Be careful n ot to break it .Don

’t be afraid ; I shan’

t break it. ” She put the glasst imidly to her right eye . I can

’

t see anything, she saidn aively.

THE RENDEZVOUS. 23 3

You must shut your eye , he said to her with the air ofa dissatisfied master. She shut the eye to which she had

put the glass . Not that one, id iot, the other ,” exclaimed

V ictor ; and before she had time to do as he said , hesn atched the glass away from her.Akoulina turned red , gave a little laugh , and then looked

s not seem to have been made for you, she saidto him.

“ I should think soThe poor girl gave a deep sigh .

Ah , V ictor A lexandritch , she con tinued suddenly,how sad we shall be when you are no lon ger hereV ictor wiped the glass upon the skirt of his coat and putit back into his pocket .Oh, n o doubt , he said at len gth , at first . He placed

his han d upon her shoulder in a atron izin g man ner ; shetook it gen tly and kissed it. Oh, n o doubt , he cont in n ed , smil ing with a satisfied air. You are a good girlbut what is there to be don e ? j udg e for ourself. Wecan

’

t stay here forever, my master and I . ere ’s wintercoming on , and you know that win ter is in supportable inthe coun try. A t Petersburg it is an other affair altogether.There there are wonders that you, poor girl , cannot imagin eeven in your dreams : houses , streets , society , educat ion ,everything, in short . Akoulin a l istened eagerly , with herl ips half open l ike a child ’s . “But after all , he added ,roll ing over on the grass , what is the use of talk ing to youabout all that ? You can ’t un derstand me.

Why do you thin k that , V ictor Alexandritch she said .

I un derstan d you ; I understan d you perfectly.

”

In deed , is that so ?Akoulin a dropped her eyes . At one time you did

not

speak to me in that wil

ly, V ictor A lexandritch, she replied

without raising her hea“At one time ,

” he said with a gesture of impat ience.But it is time for me to g o ; and he leaned upon hiselbow .

Stay a little longer, said Akoulina in a suppl icatingvorce .“What for ? I have already said good -by.

Stay, repeated Akoulina .

V ictor lay back again and be 11 to whistle . Akoulina

still looked at him ; but I coul see that her breast was

23 4 THE RENDEZV0US.

heaving and that her l ips trembled . Her pale cheeks coloredsli bt lg

V ifftor Alexandritch , she exclaimed at last in a heartt endin voice, “ it is very mean of you, V ictor A lexandritch .

I call od to witness .What do you mean by that ? he said with a frown .

He leaned on his elbow and turned his face towards her.It is very mean of you , V ictor A lexandritch. You don ’t

even say a single kind word to me before leavingme, poordeserted woman that I am.

”

What would you have me say ?How should I know ? You know better than I , V ictor

A lexandritch . Here you are leavin g me , and you don ’teven say W hat have I done to be treated so ?You ’re a strange girl . What do you wan tNot even a single wordCome , you

’re raving,” he said angrily , and he stood up.

Don ’t be angry with me , she said , restrain ing her tears .

I am n ot angry with you but I tell on you are a l ittlefool . What would you have me do ? ou kn ow I can ’tmarry you.

1 What do you want , then ? Tell me. Hecran ed his neck and spread open his fingers as if he waswaiting for an an swer.

Nothing ; I ask nothin she stammered in re ly ,t imorously putt ing her tremb ing hands out to him. ou

might have said a single l ittle word to me. But she couldcon tain herself n o longer ; a torren t of tears burst from here es .y“Now she

’s 03 ag ain , said V ictor , calmly pushing his capdown over his eyes .

“ I wan t n othing, she continued , sobbing, with her facehidden in her hands . But what will my family say ? Howwill they treat me ? What will become of me ? Poor deserted creature that I am! I am to be given to a man thatI do not love“Go on , g o on , said V ictor in a low vorce , becom ingimpat ient .

And he won ’t even say a sin le word tome— n ot one Ifhe would but speak like this : koulima But she couldn ot finish . She fell on the grass on her face and wept bitterly . Her whole body shook con vulsively. Now and then

i . A dvorovi would con sider it a d isgrace to marry a peasan t ; it wouldbea mésal liance.

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23 6 TA TI ANA BORI SSOVIVA AND HER NEPHEW

CHAPTER XV I I .

TATI ANA BORISSOVNA AND HER NEPHEW.

PUT your hand in mine , dear reader, and come with me .The weather is magn ificen t : it is the month of May.

The blue vault of heaven is un dimmed ; the young leaves ofthe willow are as fresh and brilliant as if they had just beenwashed ; the smooth , wide road that we follow is carpetedwith the red- stalked plant that sheep delight to browse on ;

to the right and left on, the lon g hillsides soft ly wave the

fields of rye , still g reen and delicate ; l ittle flaky cloudshover in the sky and cast their l ight shadows here and thereupon the vast plain s . In the distance are seen black forests.pon ds with their gl isten ing surfaces , and vill es withthatched roofs . Larks soar up by hundreds , carol in g , andthen precipitate themselves head first in to the fields and

stan d with outstretched throats upon the clods of earth .

White - beaked crows stop in the middle of the road , gaze atyou with heads lowered for a better sight , watch you pass ,and then fly heavily away. A peasan t is ploughing his fieldon the Opposite side of a ravi ne . A bay colt with short tailand rough man e gallops along on its feeble legs beside it smother, and you hear its feeble n eighing. We en ter a birchwood , and breathe in the strong, fresh odor. Here is theen tran ce to a village . The coachman gets down , the horsessnort ; the on e in the shafts switches its tail and rubs itshead again st the dang er. The huge g ate creaks on its hin ges .The coachman remoun ts the box. Forward ! the villag e isbefore us . We pass by the first houses and turn to the right ;we come to the foot of a ravin e and drive along a dike. Onthe opposite side of a little pon d , behind the rounded topsof a clump of apple - trees and l ilacs , is seen a wooden roof,on ce painted red , surmoun ted by two chimneys. Thecoachman turn s to the right along a wal l ; the smotheredbarkin g of three dogs whose voices seem cracked with ageis heard , and we en ter a large gate that stands w ide open .

The coachman drives briskly in to a large courtyard sur

TA TIANA BORI SSOVIVA AND HER NEPHE PV.23 7

rounded with stables and coach- houses bows graciously toan old housekeeper who bestrides the h igh sill of the storehouse door, and at last stops before the steps o f a littlehouse whose walls are blackened by ag e and whose win dowsseem al l to expan d . We are at Tatiana Borissovn a’

s . Butthere she is open ing a window and nodding to us . Goodday , mother !

”

Tatiana Borissovna is a woman of about fifty , with large ,rather prominent g ray eyes , a short nose , red cheeks , and adouble chin . Her features beam with goodness and sweetn ess . She is a. remarkable woman . Early left a widow

,she

lives always on her little estate , seldom visits her neighbors ,and takes pleasure on ly in seeing young people . Herparents were poor proprietors and gave her no education ;that is to say , they did n ot teach her Fren ch . Tat ianaBorissov n a has never been even to Moscow ; but , in s ite ofher wan t of education , her mann ers are simple and indly .

She is sen sible and entirely free from prejudice ; in short ,she is so unlike all other women of her condition that it isimpossible n ot to be surprised . How ? A woman whopasses the whole year in the country in complete isolationand does not devote herself to gossip ! who speaks withoutshouting and does not courtesy ! whom the most trivialevents do n ot excite to rebell ion ! who does n ot choke ineating ! whom curiosity does not annoy ! What a miracle !Tatiana Borissov na g en erally wears a g ray silk dress and acap trimmed with lilac ribbons that fall upon her shoulders .She is fond ofgood cheer , but n ot to excess , and she leavesto her housekeeper the task of preparing every kin d ofpreserves and pickles . How then does she occupy hertime ?” you will ask .

“ Is she fond of reading No , shedoes not read ; and, to tell the truth , reading would hardlysuit her . When she has no visitors , she kn its by thewindow in winter , and in summer she walks in the gardenwaters and cares for the flowers ; passes en tire hours pla

ying

with the kittens ; feeds the pigeon s ; and pays very it t le

attention to housekeeping . But when some young pro

prietor of the n eighborhood who happens to be in hergoodgraces comes to see her, Tatiana Borissovn a arouses

hersel she makes him sit down , treats him to tea , l isten satten tively to his stories , jokes and taps h im on the checks ,all the while con tribut ing very l ittle to the conversation .

She l ikes to be a comforter, and can at times give goodadvice . Of how many confidences and family secrets is she

23 8 TA TI A IVA BORI SSOVIVA AND HER NEPHEW .

the depositarg! How often have her hands been watered

with tears ! he usually places herself in front of her guest ,with her elbow resting l ightly on the table , and then shewatches him with so much interest and with a smile so k indthat the visitor says to himself , What an excellent womanTatian a Borissovna is ! I think I

’

l l tell her what I have onmy mind .

” There is experien ced an indefinable sensation of

comfort in her l ittle commodiously arranged apartmentsit is always , so to Speak , fair weather there. Tatiana Borissovn a is an extraordinary woman , yet n o one is impressedby her. Her good sense , her firmness , her breadth of mind ,her l ively sympathy in the joys and sorrows of her fellowbeings— in a word , all the qual ities that disting uish herseem in nate , and she exercises them natural ly and withoutthe least effort . It is impossible to imagin e her other thanshe is , so that she does not receive full credit for her virtues.Above all things she loves to witness the games and ran ksof youn g people : with her arms crossed , her head t rownback , her eyes half closed , and a smile on her l ips , shewatches them from her arm- chair ; and all at on ce her breastheaves , she sighs , and exclaims , Oh, my children , mychildrenOne feels a des ire to be n ear enough to her to be able totake her by the hand and say , Listen , Tatiana Borissovna :don ’t you kn ow well that you do n ot do yourself justice ?A lthough you are without education and of great simplicityofmind , you are none the less a very distin guished woman .

”

Even her n ame has a peculiar attraction : it is agreeableto the car ; there is something famil iar about it ; it is pleasan t to speak , and it calls up a smile of sat isfaction . Howmany times has it n ot happen ed to me to ask of some peasan t that I met , “What road must I take , brother, to go

”

(I suppose a case) to Grochefka Go first , father,to V iasovoi , and from there g o to Tatiana Borissov na

’

s ;

when you reach Tatian a Borissovn a’

s , inquire : they willshow you the way there . As he pron oun ces the n ameof Tatiana Borissov n a, the peasan t wags his head with a

pecul iar express ion .

Her household is n ot large , and in n o way comportswith her fortune. The housekeepin g , the laun dry , thepan try , and the kitchen are under the con trol of A g atha ,a toothless o ld woman who weeps on every occas ion ,but who is won derfully kin d ; she was the n urse of TatianaBorissovna. Two stout young girls with cheeks as round

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240 TA TI ANA BORI SSOVNA AND HER NEPHE I”.

what would you do if he should try to tie your han ds ?“ I wouldn ’t let him ; I

’d call Mikei , the coachman . Doyou think , V acia , that a Fren chman would n ot be en oughfor a man l ike Mikel ?” No , he wouldn

’t ; Mike‘

i’ is mighty

strong, n ow “Well , what would on do then “We

would give it to him on his back , an then “And thenhe would begin to cry , ‘Pardon e, pardon e, Si w uplé/ And

we would say , No , n o , Si'z/ou ple! Frenchman !

’ I l ikethat ! you

’re a brave lad V acia. Come, n ow, shout , Bon apart ichka is a bri g and !

“And will you give me somesugar ?” Little rascal !”

Tatiana Borissovn a has but a slight acquaintance with thewomen who live in her n eighborhood ; they rarely call uponher, and she cann ot make herself ag reeable to them . She isput to sleep by the murmur of their voices ; she wakes witha start , she tries to keep her eyes Open , and then dozes offag ain . As a rule , Tatiana Borissovn a does not l ike women .

One of her friends , a modest , quiet youn g fellow of the neig hborhood, had a sister , an old maid of thirty- eight and a

half ; an excellent creature at bottom , but affected , andof an exaggerat ive , roman tic turn of mind . Her brotheroft en talked to her about her neighbor. On e fine morning this dear creature has a horse saddled and, without breath in g a word to an y one , repairs to Tatian aBorissovn a

’

s . Now she en ters the ante- room in her longflowing habit , and hat covered with a green veil , with hercurls flying in the wind . She passes before V acia , who restsdumbfoun ded , taking her for a roussalka , and rushes in to thedrawing- room . Tat ian a Borissov n a is frightened by her ;she tries to rise , but her kn ees fail her. Tatiana Borissovna ,

” says the apparition , in a suppl icating voice , pardonmy boldn ess ; I am the sister of your frien d A lexis Nikolaiev itch K and he has talked tohe about you so muchthat I determined to make your acquain tance . “ It is toogreat an hon or, stammered the mistress of the house in hersurprise . The n eighbor took off her hat , spread out theringlets that fell down over her cheeks , seated herself by theside of Tat ian a Borissov n a and took her hand. Now at las tI see, she beg an in a ten der, pen sive ton e , “ that noble ,sweet , pure , saintly being— that woman at on ce ingen uousand profoun d ! How fortun ate I am! How fo n d we shallbecome of each other ! At last I shall experien ce a few momen ts of calm ! She is just as I imagin ed her to in self ,

”

she con tinued in a low voice , turn ing her eyes lan g uis in g ly

TA TI ANA BORI SSOVNA AND HER NEPHE PV. 24 1

towards Tatian a Borissovn a. But you are not offended withme , my dear, my ten der frien d ? How could I be so ? I amtoo happy. But won ’t you have a cup of tea ?” The neighbor smiled in dulgen tly . W iewafer , wie n n n fiect irt shean swered , speaking to herself . Permit me to press you tomy heart , my dear.

”

The old maid spen t three hours at Tat iana Borissov na’

s inon e con tin ual stream of talk . She had un dertaken to makeher n ew frien d un derstand the good poin ts of her own character. As soo n as she was gon e , the poor Tatiana Borissovn ag ot in to her bath , swallowed a cup of l ime-flower tea , andtook to her bed. But t he old maid returned the n ext moming. and promised the unfortunate proprietress to pay her avisit every day . She proposed— as she said— to completethe educat ion of this rich n ature , and to accomplish its developmen t . She would probably have en ded by bringingo n a fit of sickness before long, had she not after about twoweeks become completely disen chan ted with the frien d of

her brother and fallen in love with a youn g student whohappen ed to come in to the country , and with whom shebegan a correspondence that took all her time . I n her epistles she wished him, as usual , a pure an d holy life , offeredherself as a sacrifice . did n ot wish to merit an y title but thatof sister, lost herself in endless description s of nature , ihvoked Goethe , Schiller , and Bettina . discussed German philosophy

— and finished by driving the poor fellow to desperation . But his youth soon regained the ascenden cy , andon e fin e morn ing he awoke with such a feeling of hatred for“ his sister and best frien d that he came n ear beating hisservant ; and, for a long while after , the sl ig htest allusion toa love pure and devoted made him furious . From this

’

time forth , Tatiana Borissovn a avoided st ill more than everall relation s with the ladies of the n eighborhood .

But alas ! there is nothing perfect in this world . All thatI have just told you about t he household of this excellen tlady is an old story. The calm that reigned in her houseis destroyed forever. She admitted there at least a year ag oo ne of her nephews , an artist from St . Petersburg. Theseare the circumstan ces that took him there :Some eight years ago an orphan about twelve years old ,named Androucha , l ived with Tatian a Borissovn a. He wasthe son of her brother. The little An droucha had large

1 . Hownatural andunaffected she is !

242 TA TI ANA BORI SSOVNA AND HER NEPHEW .

l impid eyes , a l ittle mouth , a clear- cut n ose , and a h igh forehead . His voice was low and t imid ; his bearing modestand respectful . He was thoughtful and pol ite towardsstrangers , and he kissed his aun t

’s hand with all the ten dern ess of an o han . You could scarcely set your foot in sidethe room t) g n he would han d you a chair. He n ever indulg ed in the mischievous pranks common at his ag e. Hewas alwa s quiet , andwould stay in the comer buried in abook wit out moving , n ot even ven turing to lean againstthe back of the chair. If visitors came in , Androucha wouldget up , smile bashfully , and blush. As soon as they weregon e he would sit down again , take a l ittle brush with alooking -glass in the back of it out of his pocket, and gen tlysmooth his hair. He had very early shown a great taste fo rdrawing ; and every t ime a bit of paper fell into his hands hewould ask A g afia , the housemaid , for a pair of scissors , carefully cut the paper square , trace a border about it , and set towork . He would draw an eye with an en ormous pupil , aGreek n ose , or, still better, a house surmoun ted by a chimn ey fromwhich issued a long spiral column of smoke , with adog in front that looked like a ben ch , and a tree with twopi eon s o n it . Below would be the following in script ion :rawn by André Belovsorof, such a day and such a year,

in the village of Mali- Bryki . ” But it was during the fifteenor twen ty days that preceded Tatiana Borissov n a’

s birthday that he would draw with the greatest fury. He wouldbe the first to congratulate her, and would offer her a roll ofpaper t ied with a pink favor. Tatiana Borissov na wouldkiss him upon the forehead and un tie the favor. The paperwould unroll and d isclose to the curious regards of the spectator a round temple heavily shaded , with column s and an

altar , above which would be a crown and a flaming heart .A t the top of the sheet would be a scroll bearing the followin g device written in very fine characters : To my aunt andben efactress , Tatiana Borissovn a , from her most humble anddevoted n ephew , as a testimonial of his devoted affection .

Tat iana Borissov n a would give him another kiss and arouble . But she was n ot greatly attached to him . The Ohsequious man n ers of Androucha aroused her sovereign displeasure . However, he was g rowin g up, and she began tobe an xious about his future . A n unforeseen event relievedher from this embarras smen t .One da about eight years ag o she received a visit from a

certai n eter Mikailov itch Bénévo lenski, a college coun

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244 . TA T[ANA BORI SSOVIVA AND HER NEPHEPV.

sions . Ah ! V ania, V ania, or else Ah ! Sacha , Sacha ,

they say to each other in s mpathet ic tones .“we should

live in the South ! We are reeks in soul— Greeks of theancient world . Then they should be seen at the exhibitions stan ding before the pictures of certain Russian artists— for it is leasan t to note that these gentlemen are greatpatriots. ow they retreat a few steps reveren t iall n ow

they advance ag ain to the masterpiece ; their l itt e eyeshave an oily lustre ; “Ah. g reat heavens !

” they exclaim at

leng th in tones broken with the emotion they feel ,“what

sentiment ! what sentimen t ! That is from the heart !What soul he has thrown into it ! Yes it overflows withsentiment ! Andthe imagin at ion ! What imaginat ion !

’

Tisthe work of a true master !

”

And i f you could but see thepictures that decorate their houses , and the artists whocome in the evening to take their places about the tea- tableand listen to their conversation ! Such pictures ! V iews oftheir own rooms in perspect ive , with screen s in the foreground to the right , a little heap of dust on the shinin

gwooden floor, a yellow samovar near the window , anfarther o n the master of the house himself, in a red skullc

ap, with his face illuminated by a dazzl ing ray of sunlight !ith what lon g- haired , scorn ful ly smil ing disci les of the

muses they del ight to surroun d themselves ! hat pall id,

g reenish- com lexioned girls screech at their pian os ! For

i t must be nown that we Russians do n ot con tent ourselves with a single art— we take them all in one embrace.

A nd it is for this reason that these gentlemen think it the

fli pper thing to do , to take also under their protectionussian l iterature , more especially, dramat ic l iterature.

The “Jacob San n azars” are drawn for them; the strug gle,a thousand times reproduced , of un recognized genius ag ainst

;he world— against the whole universe— affects them pro

oundl .

Theyday after the arrival of Bénévolen ski, when tea was

served in the evening, Tat iana Borissovn a told her nephewto bring in his drawings .

He draws ? exclaimed Bénévolenski with a start of surprise , and he g ave Androucha a look full of interest .

Yes , to be sure , he draws , replied Tatian a Borissovn a.

He has a g reat taste for drawing , and he has learned by

A wretched Ia thhi:subjectsm ag num“ a” “m of Koukonk. who took

TA TIANA BORI SSOVNA AND HER NEPHEW'.245

himself, without a master . Ah ! let me see your work !Let me see your work !” said Bénévo len ski. A ndrouchablushed, and produced his drawing- books with a smile onhis lips. Bénévo len ski began to examin e them l ike a conno isseur.

“Well don e , young man , he said at length ,

well done, very well done ; and he patted Androucha on

the head. and the boy unex ectedly kissed his hand .

“Whattalen t ! It

’s marvellous ! I)

congratulate you, Tatiana Borissovna ; I congratulate youUnfortunately , Peter M ikailov itch , we have no drawing

master, and to have on e come from the city would be too

expensive . Our neighbors the Artamon ofs have one, it istrue , but they have forbidden him to give lesson s outside .The pretend it would spoil his style . Humph !” t e

marked Bénévolen ski, and began to cogitate with a covertg lan ce at A ndroucha. We will talk of this again ,

” he saidall at once , rubbing his hands . The n ext day he requesteda private in terview with Tatian a Borissovna. and they shutthemselves up to ether. A t the end of half an hourAndroucha was ca led in . Bénévolen ski was standing bythe window ; his face had a little h igher color than usualand was very rad ian t . Tatian a Borissovna was seated inthe corner wiping her eyes . “Come , Androucha , she saidafter a pause , “ thank Peter Mikailov itch : he receives youunder his patronage , and will take you with him to Petersburg. Aston ishment was depicted o n the face of A n

droucha.

“S cak o ut boldly , young man , said Beh evolen ski in an a able , patron iz ing ton e. Do you wish to bean artist ? Do you feel that you have , as they say a vocationto be a pain ter ? “ I wan t to be an artist , Peter Mikailov itch , replied Androucha in a trembl ing voice .

“Sin cethat is the case, I esteem m self most fortun ate . It willwithout doubt be very hard or you to leave your worthyaunt , for whom you must cherish a feeling of the most livelygrat itude. ”

I adore my aun t , said Androucha hastily, lowerin g hiseyes. No doubt , no doubt ; that can be easily imagined ,and the feel ing does you hon or ; but represen t to yourselfsome day— the joy that your success

“Kiss me , Androucha. said the good woman ; and Androucha leapedupon her neck . Now than k your benefactor. ” Androucha

embraced Bén évolen ski’

s stomach , and then b standing on

tiptoe he succeeded in reaching the hand at his ben efactor wi thdrew, it is true , but not very determinedly . It is

246 TA TIA IVA EoRI SSOVIVA AND HER NEPHEW.

certainly permissible to ive a child pleasure , and to afiordone ’s self a merited satis action . A few days after this conversat ion Bénévolen ski departed with his young protégé .During the first three years of h is sojourn at Petersburg

Androucha wrote pretty regularly to his aun t , often en closingwith his letters specimens of his drawin gs . Bénévolen skiwould also add a few words , and seemed to be very well satisfiedwith his pupil . But gradually his letters became morerare , and finally they ceased altogether. For a whole yearTatiana Bo rissovna remain ed without any news of her

nephew . This long silence was begin ning to make heruneasy , when she received from the young man the followin g letter :MY DEAR AUNT My patron , PeterMikailov itch , died four

days ag o . A stroke of apoplexy has deprived me forever ofmyonly support. I am just enterin g , it is true , upon my twent ieth year. I have been at work now for seven years ; I havemade great progress , and I hope my talen t will suffice togain me a livel ihood . I am full of courage , but you wouldoblige me very much , my dear aun t , if you could send meat your earliest Opportun ity two hundred and fifty roubles .

I kiss your han ds , and I am, etc . , etc.Tatian a Borissov n a sen t the two hundred and fifty roubles

to her n ephew . A t the end of a mon th came an other request formon ey. She collected all that she had and sent itto him . But six mon ths had n ot passed before he be edher to sen d h im money to buy colors , the Princess er

terechin of having given him an order for her portrait. Tatiana Borissov na refused to sen d an y . Un der these cir

cumstances , he wrote , I must make my arrangements to

go to you in order to re- establish my health in the coun try.

”

find so in the following May Androucha returned to Maliki.

atiana Borissovn a d id n ot recog nize him when he ap

peared before her. His letter had given her to suppose thathe was thin and sickly. On the con tra

?! he was broad

shouldered and decidedly stout , with a ull red face and

thick curly hair. The slight , pale A ndroucha was completely tran sformed ; he was n ow the robust A n drei Ivanov itch Belovsorof. This metamorphosis was not con fin ed tohis exterior. The shrin kin g timid ity , the circumspect behavior, and the n eatn ess that distinguished him in his boyhood had g iven place to an in su portable impudence a nda revolti n g un tid in ess . He walke with a swag g er, sprawled

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248 TA TIA IVA E0RI SS0VIVA AND HER IVERHEW:

Come to me in the prairie. love,Where I waitin g lie ;

Come to me in the prairie, love.NWhere I

lweep and sl h

lor tarry onget — to e prairie o

Hasten , hasten:ere I die ! ’n .

And Tatian a Borissovn a smiled mischievously .

“ I su- u- uffer ! I su- u- uffer !” bellowed her n ephew in the

next room .

Now do be quiet , Androucha .

My heart is broken because thou hast left me, con tinuedthe unflag

'

n g song ster.Tat iana orissovn a shook her head.

Oh, these artists ! What martyrdomA car has passed since then . Belovsorof is still at his

aunt 3 but perpetually on the eve of going back to St . Petersburg. He has grown to be broader than he is long. Hisaun t , strang e to relate , adores h im , an d all the youn gwomen of the neighborhood idol ize h im .

Most ofTatiana Borissovna’

s former frien ds have stoppedgoing to her house.

THE DI STRI CT DOCTOR.249

CHAPTER XV I I I .

THE DISTRICT DOCTOR.

ONE da late in autumn as I was return ing from shootin g cau ht cold and fell ill . Luckily the fever

seized me when happened to be at an in n in on e of thetowns of the district . I sen t for a doctor. I n about half anhour the doctor of the district appeared . He was a little ,dark , in sig n ifican t - looking man . He prescribed the customary sudorifics and a mustard - plaster , quickly pocketed thefive- rouble note that I g ave him, giving a little dry coughand looking away from me as he did so , and was preparingto depart , when some remark was made that caused him toturn back and begin to talk . I was shaking with the fever,and as I foresaw that I could n o t sleep I asked for nothinbetter than a chat with this worthy man . Tea was serveand my doctor became still more communicative. He wasa fellow of some wit ; he talked eas ily, and his conversationwas amusing. Man is a Strange creature . Often onemay livewith a person on terms of intimacy without ever once Opening his heart ; at other times upon the slightest acquain tan cea mutual and most sincere exchange of con fiden ces takesplace. I dou’t kn ow to what I was indebted for the co nfi

dence ofmy new frien d , but he related to me po in t- blank arather curious adventure , that I am going to give myreaders as nearly as possible in the words of the n arrator.“You have not the pleasure of knowing, he beg an in a

weak quavering voice (the usual efiect ofBérézof sn uffwhenused unmixed) you do not know Pavel Loukitch Mylof,the judge of this d istrict ? Well , n o matter. He coughedandwiped his eyes . This is the fact ; it happened , to beexact , in the middle ofL mt , in the midst of a thaw . I was athis (the

'

udg e’

s) house we were playin a game ofprefirence. he judge is a worthy man an plays an excellentg ame . All at on ce (this was a favorite expression of the docto r’s)

“some one came and said to me , There'

s a servant askingfor you.

’ What does he wan t ?’

I replied . He has a let

250 THE DI STRI CT DOCTOR .

ter— from a patient , n o doubt .’ Bring me the letter. ’ It

roved indeed to be from a patien t. Good ! that is ourlivelihood , as you know. This is how it was : the letter wasfrom a widow ; it said this : ‘My daughter is dying ; inheaven ’s name , come. I have sent my carriage for you.

’

So far there was n othing strange . But figure to yourselfthat she lived twen ty verstes away ; that it was night , andthat the roads were horrible. Then she was poor ; I couldn o t expect to get more than two silver roubles , and eventhat was doubtful . It was more probable that she wouldpay me in lin en or oat - meal . However, you know duty isfirst of all a dying woman was call ing me to her. I g avemy han d at cards to Kalleopin e, a member of the tribunal ,and hasten ed to my house. At my door I found a l ittletélég a drawn by two very fat farm- horses with hair as thickas felt , and driven by a coachman who, out of respect for me ,sat on the box with his head un covered . Well ,

’ thought Ito myself, ‘it doesn

’t look , brother, as if your masters rolledin money ! ’ You may smile ; but we poor devils are veryobserving. Let a coachman sit on his box l ike a prince ;let him keep his cap on , and giggle, and play with his whip :then we can coun t confidently upon two ban k - bi lls . Butin the presen t case there was n o rospect of that sort . However, I repeat it , duty is duty. secure the most necessaryremedies , andwe are off.

“ It was with reat difficulty that we made our way. Theroad was horribFe ; what with snow , water, mud, llies , andeven a broken dike— it was s imply in fern al . owever, atlast we are there ! I see a little thatched house ; there are

l ights in the windows . They expect me without doubt . A

respectable- looking old woman in a cap comes out to meetme . Save her,

’ she exclaims , ‘the poor ch ild is dyinI reply , Don

’t be alarmed ; where is the patien t ?’ T is

way ; come .’

I look : I see a small chamber very tidy ; abed upon which is lyin

g, in an un conscious state , a girl of

about twen ty , con sume by a fever and breathing witheffort, and on either side of her two other young women ,

her sisters , weeping and in the depth of despair. ‘Yesterday she was very well ,

’ they said , and eat with an appet ite.

This morning she complai n ed of a headache , and you see

what a condit ion she is in n ow !’ It was a burning fever.

Calm yourselves ,’ I repeated ; we doctors , you know— it is

our duty. I wen t up to the bed . I bled her, ordered a mustard - plas ter to be applied , and prescribed a potion . As I

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z52 THE DI STRI CT DOCTOR.

will promise me faithfully not to confide Listen I ben tover her. She put her l ips to my ear ; her hair touched mycheck. I confess I beg an to lose my head myself. Shebegan to mumble incoherently ; I could make out absolutely nothing .

‘Ah ,

’ I thought , ‘ it is delirium .

’

Shekept on talking very rapidly and, as it seemed to me , in astrange tongue . A t last she stopped , trembled , let her headfall back upon the pillow , and shook her finger at me.

‘You un derstand , doctor ; keep my secret faithfully. Hedied long ag o , poor fellow ! and the in fan t too .

’

I quietedher as well as I could . I made her drin k , and then afterwaking up the maid I left the room .

”

The doctor took another vig orous pinch of snuff , and te

mained for a few momen ts as If he had been petrified .

“However, he con tinued , “con trary to m expectation ,the patient was no better in the morn ing. pon reflectionI decided to remain , although other patien ts had n eed ofmyservices. Nevertheless , you kn ow that there must be n o

negligence : it hurts pract ice. But , in the first place , thepat ient was really in a critical condit ion ; in the secondplace , I con fess she in terested me greatly . Besides , theother members of this family attracted me. Their fatherwas a man of learn ing, a writer. He died in poverty , Iagree ; but he had had time to ive his children an excellenteducation . He had also left t em a reat many books. Idon ’t know whether it was because was devoted to mypat ien t, or for other reasons , but I can say that I was verysoon treated in this house l ike a relative . In the midst ofall this, the roads became absolutely impassable ! Commun icat ion s were , i f I may use the expression , en tirely in terrupted. No way could be devised to get medicin es fromthe town . The patien t did n ot improve ; her con dition grewworse day by day . But now— I must tell you (the doctorhesitated) .

“ I really don ’t kn ow how to beg in (herethe doctor took an other pinch of snufl‘, coughed , and took aswallow of tea) .

“ I will tell you very frankly that my patien t— how shall I say it — fell in love with me— or rather, n o !she didn ’t exactly fall in love with me Listen— how shallIExpress it (the doctor cast h is eyes down , and turned

re

No , he resumed with vivacity , “what did I say ? One

must do one’

s self justice . She was a sen sible , well - educatedg irl . She had read a great deal ; and I have even forgottenmy Lat imty . I n o lon ger kn ow a word of it . As to my

THE DI STRI CT DOCTOR . 253

face (the doctor looked at himself, with a pitying smile) ,“ I haven ’t much to boast of in that regard either. How

ever, I am n ot en tirely a fool , than k Heaven ! I don’t take

black for white . I even observe a great many things . This ,for example : I understand very well that A lexandra Andrev

n a (that was the n ame of my patient) did not have a feelin o i love for me, but rather on e of frien dliness , or, bettersti l , a sort of esteem . A lthough , perhaps , she did n ot ap

preciate it herself, her posit ion was such that in truth youwill recogn ize it as I do . But for that matter, con tin uedthe doctor, who had uttered all these words without takin gbreath , and with visible embarras sment , it seems to methat I ama little mixed . If I con t in ue in th is way, you willn o t get much of an idea of matters . I must put a littlemore order in to my story .

He emptied his glass of tea , and resumed calmly :So then my patien t wen t from bad to worse , — from bad

to worse. You are n ot a physician , my dear sir, and youcan n ot know what a physician un dergoes , especially duringthe first momen ts after he recogn izes the fact that thed isease is getting the upper han d . What becomes of hisassuran ce ? He is actually stun ned . It seems as if he hadforgotten everything ; as If the patien t had n o longer an ycon fiden ce in him ; as if the person s about suspected thatall was goin g wron g an d reported the symptoms with a badgrace ; and as if the looked askan ce and whispered amon gthemselves . Ah , w at a situat ion ! There must be med icin es that will cure the disease ; the quest ion is to findthem. Let us thin k : isn ’t it that one ? It is tried . No ,that ’s not it .

’ The medicin es are n ot even given t ime to act .

First one is tried in despair , an d then another. There is theformulary , and it is con sulted in cessantly , but without result.The temptation is strong to open it at hazard . But meanwhile the patien t is dying. Another doctor may save him,

perhaps ,’ they say. ! uick , a con sultation ,— my responsib il ity

will be relieved . But what a foolish figure the doctor cutsas he says this . In time he becomes habituated to everything, it is true . If the patient dies , the doctor is n ot to

blame for it , if he has treated him according to rule . Somet imes there is an other source of trouble fo r the physicianit is the blind confiden ce that is sometimes placed in him ina case that he feels is hopeless . That was the presen t case ;the entire family of A lexan dra Andrev n a had perfect confidence in my skill , and never suspected the dang er that the

254 THE DI STR I CT DOCTOR .

patien t was in . I kept up this illusion , although my heartwas in my boots . To crown the misfortun e , the roads became so bad that it took whole days for the coachman to goto town for medicin e . I never left my patien t

’

s room ; Icould not tear m self away . I told her amusing stories , Iplayed cards wit her, and in short I did eve hing to divert her. I passed the n ights by her pillow . he o ld ladywould than k me with tears in her eyes but I would alwaysreply , ‘I don ’t deserve your gratitude. ’ I must confess to

you— I may certa in ly Speak of it n ow— I had fallen in love

with my patient . A nd she was attached to me, too . I wasthe on ly person she permitted to enter her room. She

would en ter in to conversation with me and ask me where Ihad studied , how I l ived , who my relatives were , and whomy friends . I kn ew that these conversat ion s were bad forher , but yet I felt that I had n ot the courag e to forbid them .

I would take my head in my two hands and say to myself,What are you doing, wretch that you are ?

’

Sometimes shewould take my han d and gaze at me a lon g , long time ; thenshe would turn away with a s igh and say , How good youare ! ’ Her han ds would be burn ing, her eyes wide open butlan guid . Yes ,

’ she would con tin ue , ‘you are good ; you area worthyman on are n ot at all l ike our neighbors ; you aren ot l ike him. by was it that I d id not know you sooner ?

’

‘A lexandra Andrev n a ,

’

I would say , ‘calm yourself ; I appreciate it , be assured of that , — you may rest assured of

that . I am truly overwhelmed ; but in God’s name calm

yourself ; all will yet be well , you will recover.’

But it iswell to say , added the little doctor , raising his eyebrowsand ben ding towards me, that if the family had l ittle to dowith the n eighboring proprietors , it was because the smal lon es were ben eath them , while pride kept them away fromthe richer ones . They were , I re eat , very refin ed people ,so that you must un derstan d thatqfelt extremely flattered .

She would take her medicin e from n o on e but me . Shewould raise herself with m help , poor thing , swallow thedrau ht , and look at me . would be completely upset .

owever, her condit ion grew con stan tly worse . Shewill die ,

’ I said to myself. ‘She will d ie for sure .

’ Thisthought drove me wild . I would have been ready to takeher place in the coffin . Her mother and her sisters werethen watchin g me, looking me straight in the face . A lreadyI beg an to in spire themwith less con fiden ce. ‘How is sheg ett in g on Comfortably , comfortably.

’ That comfort

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256 THE DI STRI CT DOCTOR .

can hardly tell what I said at that momen t. You will wakethe maid ,

’ I said at last , ‘A lexan dra A ndrev na, be sure ;calm yourself. ’ ‘Come , say n o more ,

’ she repl ied .

‘Maythe good God bless them all ! Let them wake ; let themcome : it will make no differen ce ; I must die . A nd you ?What have you to fear ? Lift up your head , then . But perhaps you do no t love me ; perhaps I am deceived . If I t isso , I beg your pardon .

’ ‘A lexandra A ndrev na , why doyou say that ? I love too .

’

She looked at me fixedly.Then come , embrace me !

’

To tell the truth , I don't know

why I did no t go mad that n ight . I felt the patient wasnearing her end ! I saw that she was slightly delirious ; Ieven comprehen ded that if she had n ot known she was indanger of dying she would n ot have dreamed of me . Butit is a sad thing to die at twenty- five without havin g loved .

That is what tormen ted her ; that is why in her despair shehad chosen me. Do you un derstand ? However, she keptme in her arms . ‘Have pity on me, A lexandra Andrev na ,

and o n yourself, I beseech you !’ ‘Why ? ’ she repl ied .

Why should I spare myself ? I am going to die ! ’ She re

peated these last words over and over ag ain .

‘Ah , if Ikn ew that I was going to l ive , and take m place in theworld again as the daughter of a gen tleman , i

,

should haveblushed ,

— yes , I should have been ashamed . But in the condition I am in , what is the use ?

’

But who told ou youwere going to die ?

’

Come , put an end to that ! on wi llnot deceive me ; you can

’t lie : look at yourself . ’ You shalll ive , A lexan dra Andrev n a ; I will cure you . We will askyour mother ’s blessing. We will marry , we will be happy .

’

‘No , no ; I have your word . I must die . You havepromised me so ; you have said so !

’ I was profoundlymoved, and that for many reason s . What singular combin at ion s of circumstan ces sometimes present themselves ! Theylook l ike nothing, but they make o ne suffer . She took a

fancy to kn ow my Christian n ame . I must tell you that , tomy great misfortun e , I have a very common name . I amcalled Trifon e; yes , Trifon e Ivan itch . Every one in thehouse called me ‘doctor . ’ So then I was obliged to tell her,My n ame is Trifon e , mademoiselle .

’

She frown ed , shook herhead , an dmuttered somethin g in French n othing pleasantfor me to hear, I am sure . Then she laughed , with a laughthat was n ot pleasan t for me either. I n this way ] assedalmost the whole night with her. Ah,

that night ! shall

TI I I : DI STRI CT DOCTOR . 257

remember it un til my dying day ; It is burn t into my heart,that n ight !When I left the room the next morn ing, I reeled like a

drunken man . It was on ly late in the day after tea that Icame to . Great God ! she was past recognition ; a deadperson could be n o more frightful to look at . I swear toyou , upon my hon or, that I do not un derstand now how Ibore up under such torture . My pat ien t drag ged on at thepoin t of death for three days and three n ights ; and suchnights ! What d id she n ot say to me ! The last n ight I wasseated by her, praying to God. Take her to you quickly

,

’

I was saying ,

‘and take me with her,

’ when all at on ce herag ed mother appeared . I had already warn ed her the prevrous evening that there was l ittle hope , and that a priesthad better be summon ed . The pat ien t , when she saw hermother , said , ‘You have don e well to come . Look at ustwo ! We love each other, and we have given ourselves toeach other. ’ What does she say , doctor ? What doesshe mean ? ’ I was as it were petrified .

‘She is wanderin g .

’ I an swered ; ‘it is the fever.’

But she stopped me short .Why do you say that ? ’ she exclaimed . You told me justthe contrary a momen t ago , and you have accepted my ring.

Why not con fess ? My mother is kind she will pardon us ,she will understand it ; and you kn ow I m dying. I have non eed to l ie . Give me your hand .

’ I got up and ran out ofthe room. The old lady un derstood it all , as you may imagin e . But I will n ot weary you furt her ; besides I con fessit is very pain ful for me to recur to those heart- breakingscenes . My patient died the next day. May God receiveher soul ! (The doctor uttered these last words hast ilyand sighed .) Before she breathed her last , she beg ed herfamily to retire and leave me alone with her. or iveme,

’ she said ; ‘I am perhaps to blame in your eyes . hefever But I swear to you , I have n ever loved any on e

as much as I love you . Don ’t forget me— keep myrln g

N

The doctor turned away ; I grasped his hand .

Ah he exclaimed,

“ let us talk of something else .

Don ’t you wan t to take a han d at prq’

féren ce? It is n ot

becoming in us doctors to let such feel ings run away withus . We must con tent ourselves with o n e thing ; that is toprevent the ch ildren from crying , and the mother fromscolding at us . I ought to say to you that I have since , ast hey say, entered into lawful wedlock . Yes , I have indeed

258 TI I E DI STRI CT DOCTOR.

married the daughter of a merchan t with seven thousandroubles for a dowry . Her name is Akoulina , and that namegoes well with Trifon e. She is not a very pleasan t creat ure ,but luckily she passes most of the time in sleeping. Well ,shall we begin ourpréférmce?

We began to play prcyérmce at a kopek a point. TrifoneIvan itch won two roubles‘and a half, and left late in theeven ing very proud of his victory .

z. Formerly the curren t money in Russia consisted of paper roubles of on e

hundred kopeks , andworth about twen ty- two cen ts . Now themonetary un it

is the silver rouble. I t is worth about ei g hty cen ts.

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260 forCI ANE.

monotonous sound, the expression ofa sorrow without hope,

Spread sadly over the deserted fields . Myldriver whipped

up his horses : he wished to get ahead of t e procession , forit is considered un lucky to meet a corpse . He succeeded inpassing the poin t where the path that the fun eral wastraversing struck the highway ; but he had not gone ahundred feet beyond it, when a violent jolt shook thetéléga , which tipped so as almost to throw us out. Thedriver reined in his horses that had not stopped , made agesture with h is han d , and spit on the ground .

What is the matter I asked .

W hile replying he descended leisurely from his seat.“W hat has happenedThe axle is broken , he replied gloomily , and beg an to

arrange the collar of one of the horses w ith such roughn essthat the poor beast was almost thrown o n its side ; but itrecovered its balance , snorted , gave a shake , and beg anquietly to scratch its leg below the kn ee with its teeth .

I g ot down and stood some min utes in the road in - greatperplexity. The wheel was almost entirely ben t in underthe téléga, and seemed to turn up its hub with a sort ofmute despair.What are we going to do ? I said at length to the

driver.There is what brought us the ill - luck , he repl ied ,

poin ting with h is whi at the fun eral procession , that hadhad time to reach the ig h

- road andwas coming towards us .I have always remarked that , he contin ued

“ it is a verytrue saying : when one meets a corpse— yes .Then he began to torment the leader again , who , seeingthat he was in a decidedly bad humor, determin ed to keepperfectly still , and conten ted himself with modestly switchingh is tail from time to time . I walked round the téléga and

stopped again before the wheel .Meanwhile the sad procession had come up with us .

Slowly turn ing to the right upon the road , it passed slowlyby us . M driver and myself both removed our hats . We

exchange a bow with the priest and a look with thebearers .They proceeded with difficult and their deep chests

heaved with the effort . One 02,

the peasan t- women thatfollowed the bier was very o ld and pale . Her motionlessfeatures , cruelly ravaged by grief , preserved an ex ression ofdig n ity that was at once severe and imposing. hewalked

KACIAIVE. 26 1

alon in silence , every n ow and then putting her wastedban to her thin shrunken l ips . The other was a youngwoman of not more than five- and- twenty ; her eyes were redand wet with tears , and her face was swollen from weeping.

When she was near us she stopped her dirge , and coveredher face with her sleeve . When the procession had passedus and regain ed the middle of the road , her plain tive , heartren ding chant arose afresh . My driver followed the swayingof the coffin with his eyes for some time in silence , and thenturn ing towards me he said ,It is the carpenter Martin e that they are bury ing there .

The one that lived at Riabaia.

”

How do you know ?I recogn ized the women . The old one is his mother

,

and the young one his wife . ”

Did he die of disease ?"

Yes , of a burning fever . It was three da ag o that thesteward sen t for the doctor , but did n ot fin him at home .Martine was a good carpen ter ; he rather liked to crook hiselbow, but he was a good carpen ter. How his wife mourn sBut for that matter it is always the same thing : womendon ’t bu their tears ; women

’s tears are all of the samewater. 0 .

A fter delivering himself of this reflection , he stooped ,passed under the trace by which the leader was attached tot he shaft , and seized the douga with both hands.

But then , I con t in ued what are we to do ?The driver placed his knee against the shoulder of the

shaft- horse , shook the douga two or three times , and

t ightened the harness . Then he came out again under thetraces , gave the leader a blow on the nose , approachedthe wheel , and , without taking his eyes from it, drew slowlyout from under the skirts of his kaftan a bark sn uff -box,

slowly lifted the cover by the bit of leather fixed to it ,slowly thrust his great thumb and forefinger into the snuffbox (they could scarcely get in ) , rolled over and overbetween his fingers the sn ufi

'

that he took out , turned hisnose up , and then began to stuff it with sn ufi several timesin succession , accompanying each snuff with a prolongedsig h . This operation termin ated , he smiled si ifican t ly ,wmked his eyes that were filled with tears, an remainedabsorbed in a profound meditation .

Well I said at last .The driver put his snuff- box back into his pocket, moved

262 KACI AN‘

E.

his hat down over his eyes , without using his hands, by amovemen t of his head , and ot up again into his seat .

Where are you g oing ?" I asked in surprise .

Please to get in , he answered tranquilly. taking up thereins .But how are ou oin to 0 on ?We shall go g n .

g g g

But the axle ?”

Please to get in .

But the axle is brokenYes ; it is certa inly broken ; but we will be able to reach

the n ext hamlet— at a walk , of course. The first houses are

yon der, at the right , behind the wood. I t is called j oumo .

Do you think we can get there ?The driver d id not deign to reply.I had rather walk , I said .

As you wish .

He cracked his whip, and the horses started .

We succeeded in reaching the hamlet , although the rightforward wheel scarcely held , and turned in a curious fashion .

It all but came off as we were oing down a l ittle hill ; butmy driver apostrophized it wit a rough voice , and we ar

rived without further mishap . The village of j oudin o co n

sisted of six small isbas that had begun to settle , althou hthey had probably been built but a short time. A ll t eyards were n o t yet en closed by hedges . As we en tered thehamlet we did n ot meet a human being ; there were n ot

even any hen s in the street . A black dog with a short tailslunk hastily away from a dry trough to which he hadprobably been attracted by thirst , and at once , without uttering a growl , crawled un der a gate . I went up to the n earestisba , and, opening the door that led in to the yard a crack , Icalled for the owner of the house. No one responded . Icalled a secon d time . The mewin g of a cat was heardbehind the door of the isba . I pushed the door open withmy foot , and a half

- starved cat rushed out between my legs ,With its green eyes glistening in the darkn ess . I put mhead in to the room : it was dark , smoky , and deserted .

wen t back to the yard , but there was n o one to be foundthere either. A calf lowed behind a hurdle , and a grayg oose waddled off. I wen t in to the n ext isba and foundi t e ually

O

deserted. I wen t in to the yard .

T ere, m the very middle of the yard , in the full glare of

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264 KAGI A IVE.

besides there is n obod at home . Everybody is at work .

Go away ," he con clude sudden ly , and lay down again .

I was n ot prepared for such an endin g .

Listen , m good man ,” I said to him, putting my hand

on his shoul er, “do me a kindn ess. Help me out of th isembarrassment. ”

Go away andGod be with you I am t ired I have beento town ,

” he said , covering his head with his armiak.

Come , do me this favor. I will pay you.

I don ’t need your money.

I beg you, my good fellowHe raised himself, and sat with his l ittle Spindle- legscrossed .

“ I can certainly take you to the clearin g. Some tradershave bought a wood yonder. May God be their jud e !they are fell ing the trees , and have built a shop there . ayGod be their judge ! there you may be able to give ordersfor an axle , or to buy one ready- made .

”

That’s the thing I exclaimed joyfully . That’s thevery thing ! Come on !

An oaken axle , a good axle, he con tin ued without sti rrm

‘gAnd this clearing , is it far from here ?Three verstes .

Good Can we go there in your téléga ?Certain ly n o tCome , come , old man , I said , my driver is waiting for

us in the street . ”

The old man rose with considerable reluctan ce and fol

lowed me into the street . My driver was in very bad humor. He had been to water his horses , but the wells werealmost dry and the water had a very bad taste . Hen ce hisill - temper. Water is , according to drivers , the essen tialthing. However , at the sight of the old man he was somewhat mollified, and n odding to him he said ,

Ah , Kacian ouchka , g ood - dayGood- da to you , Erofei , good - day to the just man ,

responded acian e in a doleful tone.I commun icated to driver the old man ’s proposit ion .

Erofei approved of it , and went into the yard . While heun harn essed the horses with a sag e deliberation , Kacianestood with his back a ain st the ate , watching the driverandmyself with a sorrowful air. e seemed to be very un

R'

A CIA IVE.265

easy , and I thought I n oticed that our unexpected visit wasn ot at all agreeable to him .

You have been tran sported too , then ? said Erofei tohim all at on ce , l ifting the doug a.Yes .Indeed , said my driver between his teeth , “you of

course kn ow Martine the carpenter ? You know Martine ofRiabaia“ I kn ow him.

Well , he is dead . We have just met the funeral .Kacian e shuddered .

Dead ? he replied , and bowed his head .

Yes , he’

s dead . How is it that you didn’t cure him?

They say you practise medicine . You are a sort of ahealer .The driver was evidently ban terin the old man .

Is that your téléga he said , in icat in g the vehicle withhis shoulder.Yes , that

’s min e.It ’s a famous on e, truly ; and taking the shafts with

both hands he almost turned it bottom side up. You callthat a télé a ! and what shall we go to the clearing in ?Our wheel orse can n ever get into that . Our horses arestrong ; but what sort of a thing is this , any wa

I really don’t know howwe shall g o , rep ied Kacian e,

unless we take that l ittle beast there ," he added, pointing

to his horse with a sigh .

“That thing in terrupted Erofei , and , oing up to thepoor old hack , he put the middle finger ofhis right handupon its n eck , and gave it a scorn ful push . See there,

” headded,

“ the crow is asleep .

I begged Erofei to harness it in as quickly as possible. Iwas impatient to be on the way to the wood with Kaciane,for grouse are often found in the clearings . When thetéléga was ready I arranged myself and my dog as comfortably as possible upon the l inden bark that was in it, whileKaciane rolled himself up almost in to a ball in fron t of me .He continued to look very sad. We were just about tostart , when Erofei came up to me , and whispered in my earwith a look ofmystery ,

You do well , father, to go with him . He is a— whatshall I say — a kind of in nocen t , and he is called The Flea .

’

I don ’t kn ow how you have un derstood him .

”

I was about to reply that , so far , Kaciane had seemed to

266 RACIANE.

me to be a very rational person ; but he began again , sti ll ina whisper :

On ly see that he drives you where he has said he would.

Pick out the axle yourself. Get a good , sol id one . I say ,Flea ,

” he added , raising his voice , can I find a bit of breadin your houseLook ; perhaps you will find some , repl ied Kaciane.

He gathered up the rein s , and we set out .

To my great surprise , his little horse d id very well . Durin g the whole way Kaciane preserved an obstinate silen ce .When he repl ied to a question , he did so shortly and with abad grace . We soon reached the clearing , and went in tothe store . It was in an isolated isba on the edge of a ravinethat had been transformed in to a pond by means of a temporary dam . I found in the store two young clerks , withteeth as white as sn ow , soft- looking eyes , l ively and in sinuating ton g ues , and knowing smiles . I bought an axle of

them and return ed to the clearing. I thou ht that Kacian ewould wait there for me with the téléga. ut he suddenlycame up and said ,You are goin to shoot birds , are you n ot ?Yes , if I can nd any .

I will g o with you. Will you let me ?Certa in ly .

We en tered the clearing. It was about a verste in leng th.

I con fess I was more occupied with Kaciane than with mydog. It was n o t without cause that he had been surnamedThe Flea.

”

His bare black head (his thick hair could verywell take the place of any head - gear) would disappear in thebushes and sudden ly reappear a little farther on . Hewalked very rapidly with a sk ip , so to speak , and he stoopedevery moment to pick some herb or other which he thrustin to his bosom, all the while muttering somethin g betweenhis teeth , and watching me as well as my do g With an inqusit ive, distrustful look . There is often found in the cop

pices and glades a small bird of a gray plumage , that con tinually flits whistl ing and div ing from bush to bush . Kacian ewould imitate them, an swering them and calling them . A

y!oung quail started up under his feet , uttering its cry .

acian e imitated it as he followed its fl ight with his eyes.A lark came down beside him , beating its win and singingits loudest Racisme repeated the song. But if: did not address a word to me.

Meanwhile the day had become magnificently clear ; but

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268 RACIA IVE.

would sin k slowly and majestically, as if it spread its armsand bowed .

I was a long time without coming across any game , butat last a corn - crake sprang from a thick clump o f oakbushes . I fired : the crake pirouetted in the air and fell .A t the report of the g un , Kacian e clapped his hands to hisface , and stood motion less , while I reloaded and picked upthe bird . When I started o n again , he wen t to the spotwhere the crake had fallen , and , ben ding over the grass thatwas stain ed with a few drops of blood , he shook his head ,and looked at me t imidly. I heard him say then in a lowvoice , It

’s a sin ; yes , it’s a sin

The heat finally forced us to take refuge in the woods .I threw myself down under a thick clump of hazel abovewhich a young plan e- tree graciously spread its l ight bran ches .Kaciane seated himself upon the butt of a fallen birch ,while I watched him. The tops of the trees moved gen tly ,and the slightly greenish shadow of their fol iage passedslowly to and fro over his wretched body , enveloped after afashion in a dark armiak . He did n o t l ift his head . A t

len g th . t ired of his silen ce , I stretched out on my back and

amused myself by con templat ing the peaceful play of theleaves which crossed each other in every direction and

stood out ag ain st the clear vault of the sky.

No occupation is pleasan ter than this . A n immen se oceanseems to spread overhead . The trees seem not to rise fromthe earth , but l ike roots of immen se plants to descen d vertically and plunge in to waves as clear as crystal . The foliagehas in places the brill ian cy of the emerald ; in others it isthicker , and has a shade of velvety green that is almostblack . Somewhere very far in the distance , at the extremityof a tapering bran ch , is a solitary leaf, mot ion less again st apatch of blue . Near it is an other that waves , and recallsthe play of a fish ’s fin by a movemen t that seems spo n ta

n eon s and n ot caused by the wind . Little islan ds of roundwhite clouds float in the air above . But sudden ly this immen se sea, this radiant ether, these bran ches , these empurpled leaves

,all are in mot ion , and tremblin g with a fugit ive

sheen ; a fresh , tremulous murmur, l ike the con t in uousplashing of the waves roll ing up o n the beach strikes upont he ear. You do n o t stir ; you gaze , and it is impossible todescribe the sweet , soft feeling of joy that fills your heart.You g aze o n . The clear depth of azure brin g s to the l ips asmi le as pure as itself memories of happiness pass through

KACIANE. 269

the mind like these flaky clouds that follow each other ingen tle succession . The vision seems to pen etrate ever ou

ward , and to draw you after it into this abyss at once dazzlin g and tranqui l .

‘

j Master, master, said Kacian e suddenly , in his sonorousvorce .

I started up in surprise . Before that he had scarcely t eplied to my questions , and now he was begin ning the conversation .

“What is it ? I asked .

Why did you kill that bird ? he said , looking in tently at

Eh ! why ? The crake— it is game . It is good to eat .

It wasn ’t for that that you killed it , mas ter— to eat it ?Oh , n o , you killed it for amusemen t .

But you yourself certain ly eat , I suppose , geese and

chicken s . ”“Those are birds that God has made for man . But thecrake is a wild bird— a bird of the woods . And that is not

the only one. There are many other creatures in thewoods ,the streams , the fields , the meadows , and the marshes , on theearth and in the air, and it is a sin to kill them, Let theml ive on earth for their allotted term . Another food is prov id

‘

ed for man ; an other food and an other drin k— corn , the

gift of God , and the water of heaven , and the domestic an imals bequeathed to us by the patriarchs .I looked at Kacian e with aston ishment . H is words

flowed freely . He did n ot hes itate , but spoke with a calmin spiration and a modest gravity , somet imes closing hise es .y“So , according to you, is it also a sin to kill fishes ? Iasked .

Fishes are cold - blooded , he answered with assurance .

Fishes are dumb creatures . They know neither joy n orsorrow . They have no feeling ; their blood even , is n ot

l iving. Blood , he resumed after a momen t s silen ce , isn o t a holy thin Blood does n o t see God ’s sun ; bloodhides from theTight . It is a great sin to bring blood intoda light— a great sin a frightful , yes. a frightful thing .

”

e sighed and bowed his head . My aston ishment increased , I con fess , more and more . There was n othingvulgar in these words ; common people do n ot expressthemselves in such languag e , even those amon g them whopass for fine speakers . The language of Kaciane was at

270 KACIANE.

once noble , thoughtful , and strange . I had n ever beforeheard anything l ike it .“Tell me, pray , Kaciane, I said without taking my eyesfrom;l lS gen tly animated face, “what do you do for a

l iv inHe

gdid not reply at once , and for a moment there was an

expression of uneas iness on his features .I l ive as the Lordcommands , he said at last but as for

a trade , to tell the truth , I have n one . From my in fan cy Ihave n ever been bright . I work as well as I can , but I amn ot a good worker. What can I do ? I have n o health ,an

l

d my han ds are clumsy. In the sprin g I catch n ig ht in

es . ”g a“You catch nightingales ? But you have just told me itwas wrong to catch any l iving thing , whether in the woodsor fields or elsewhere .“ It is wrong to kill them , it is true ; Death will take his

own without that . Look at the carpen ter Martine , forexample : he did n ot l ive long, and he is dead his wife n owweeps for her husban d , her l ittle children Again st deathmen andanimals are alike powerless . Death pursues n ot , and

yet he can n ot he escaped by fl ight . But there is n o need toelp him. As for me , I do n ot kill the l ittle n ightingalesGod forbid ! I do n ot trap them for their harm ; I do n ot

make them give up their lives . I capture them for thepleasure of man , for h is amusemen t , his joy .

”

Do you(go to the n eighborhood of Koursk1 for them ?

Yes , an even farther , according to circumstan ces . Ipass nights in the marshes at the edge of the woods . I l iealone , in the fields and in the th ickets . There is heard thesound of the curlew , the hare , and the wild duck. In theeven in g I take my observation s ; in the morning I listen , andat sun rise I stretch m n ets over the bushes.Do you sell themI give them to worthy persons.A ndwhat else do on do

How ? What do doHow do you occupy yourself ?The o ldman was s ilent .I occupy myself at nothing. I am a poor workman .

A nd sti ll I can read and write .In deed !”

r . The n ightingales ofKoursk are held in the highest estimation .

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272 RACI A IVE.

May he enjoy the kingdom of heaven ! However , th

guardian was not wrong. It seemed best that he shoulddo so .

”

Where did you l ive before ?We are from the banks of the Kracivaia-Métche.

”

Is it far from here ?A hundred verstes .Were you better off there ?Yes , we were better off. There was more space , more

water. It was our n est . This coun try is close and dry .

Here we are orphan s . When I was there— I mean on thebanks of our river— I could cl imb the hill andwhen I reachedthe top, God in heaven ! how beautiful it was ! There wererivers , and hillsides , and woods ; and beyon d was a church ,and then more fields . I could see away way off , so far .Oh yes , here , it is true , the lan d is richer, clayey— a good fatsoil , as the peasan ts say . As for me , it grows corn enoughfor me.Yet confess , my good man , that you would like to see

your own country again .

“Yes , certain ly I should . Yet I am well enough anywhere . I am a man without family , and love to roam . And

then what ? what good is it to stay at home ? When onegoesout , then he con t in ued , raising his voice , on e feels reallywell . The sun l ights you up ; you are more in sight of Godyou sing better. You see the plants that spring up aboutyou , and pick some of them. Then there is the gushingspring water , holy water. You drin k , and mark its place .

The birds of the good God sing . Beyon d Koursk thesteppes begin . How beaut iful they are ! How wonderful ,how beautiful is the sight of them! and it rejoices the heartof man . It is a blessin g from the Lord . They say thesteppes stretch to the warm sea where the sweet- voicedg amazozm

’ l ives ; where the leaves of the trees fall neitherin autumn n or win ter ; and where apples of gold grow on

bran ches of silver. There every on e l ives in joy and justice.There is where I would gladly g o ! Where have I n ot

already been ? I have been to Simbirsk and to Roumen ebeaut i ful town s— and even to Moscow , the city of goldendomes . I have seen the Oka , that good nurse ; and the

x . A pret ty stream in the Governmen t ofToula whose name sign ifies a beant iful sprialeanehf

ag ulous bird whose name occurs often in the popular tales and

RACI ANE . 273

Tsn a , the dove ; and the V olga , the good mother ; and Ihave seen many people and good peasants . I have beenin many a worthy city . W ell, I have been yonder— yes ,and there— and I am n ot the on ly on e, sin n er that I am.

There are many other peasants who wear the lapti whoroam the world , and— who search for truth . Yes ; what , indeed , is there to do at home ? There is n o justice in manthat is the trouble .

”

Kaciane uttered these last words so rapidly as to makethem almost unintell igible . He added something that itwas impossible for me to catch , and h is face assumed an

expression so weird that I involun tarily recalled the n ame“ in n ocent that m

ydriver had applied to him . He n odded ,

gave a gen tle cong , and seemed to come to himself ag a in .

What a sun he said in a low voice ; “ it is aben edict ionof the Lord . How good it is in the woodsHe shrugged his shoulders , and after a momen t

’s silen ce ,cast ing a vacant look about , began to sin g softly. Thewords , which he pronoun ced in a pathet ic ton e , I could not

entirely make out I caught on ly the last l i nes :

They call me Kacian eMy n ick- name is the Flea.

”

So , said I to myself, he composes .All at on ce he gave a start , and, stopping his song,gazed in ten tly into the woods . Turn ing about , I perceiveda little peasan t - girl of about eight years of age in asarafane.

‘ She wore a striped han dkerchief on her head ,and a plaited basket hung from her little brown arm.

She probably did n ot expect to meet us . She had as

the expression is , fallen upon us , and she stood motionless in the middle of a clump of hazel , gaz ing timidly atme out of her lar e black eyes . I had scarcely time to ex

amin e her before 3 e disappeared behind a tree .

An n ouchka, An nouchka, come here ; don’t be afraid ,

called the oldman softly .

I am afraid ,” she repl ied in her shrill voice.

Don ’t be afraid , don’t be afraid . Come here to me .

An nouchka came silently out of her hiding- place and

walked in a roundabout way towards him . Her l ittle feetmade scarcely a soun d upon the thick grass . She came outof the thicket near the old man . She was not , as I had at

r. A skirt supported by straps over the shoulders , worn by peasants .

274 RACI ANE.

first judged fromher figure , a child of ei g ht but a girl of atleast th irteen or fourteen . A lthough

’

l and sl ight , shewas well proportioned and active. Her pretty little facebore a strong resemblance to Kaciane

’

s , but the latter wasnot handsome , however. She had the same pointed features ,the same expression , sly but confidin g , thoughtful but penetrat in g , and the same gestures . Kacian e watched her n arrowl she turn ed sidewise to him .

ere you pickin gmushrooms ? he asked.

Yes , mushrooms , she replied with a timid smile .Have you foun d many ?A great many .

She gave him a glance , and dropped her eyes again .

Have you found any white ones ?Yes .Let me see them ; let me see them.

She sl id the basket from her arm and half l ifted the leafof burdock that covered the mushrooms .

Ah , said Kacian e, bending over the basket , “howbeautiful they are You have don e well , A n n ouchka.

Is she your daughter, Kacian e ? I asked.

The blood rushed quickly to An n ouchka ’

s face .No , she is— a relat ive , said Kacian e with an affectatio n

of in difference . Come , An n ouchka , 0 n ow, he added at

on t

f

ze. May the Lord be with you ! ut take care of yourselWhyshould she go afoot ? I asked . We could take

her bacAn n ouchka became as red as a poppy , grasped the handleof her basket with both hands , and looked uneasily at theold man .

No , she can g o very well afoot, he repl ied slowly andwith the same affectation of in differen ce .

But why make her do that ?She wi ll get there well en ough . Away with you .

An nouchka disappeared rapidly in the woods . Kacianefollowed her with his eyes , and then looked down andsmiled. There was in this constrain ed smile , in the fewwords that Kacian e had spoken , and even in the ton e of h isvoice an aston ishing ten dern ess anddel icacy. The old mancast an other look in the direction that A n n ouchka had disappeared , smiled again , and n odded his head several t imes .

W hy did you sen d her away so quickly I asked.

“ Iwould have bought some of her mushrooms.

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KACI ANE.

A fine village !” he muttered . They call that a village !I asked for at least some kvass , and there was n ot even anykvass . Thin k of that ! And the water ! it was simply (hes it vigorously) neither cucumbers n or kvass— nothing .

ome, he con tin ued , addressing his off horse , “ I know youare a hypocrite . You make believe draw (here he givehim a cut with his whip) . The beast is en tirely upset and

it used to be very willing ! No ! n o ! What is the matter,that ou turn your head in that way ?

rofei .” said I at last , “what sort of a man is th is

Kac ian eErofei did not reply at once . He was gen erally very de

liberate and n ever hurried himself ; but I saw immediatelythat my quest ion pleased him and had dissipated his badhumor.“The Flea, he said at len g th , shaking the rein s , is astrange being, a veritable innocen t . It would be hard to

find another man as peculiar as he is . He and our roanhorse are as like as two drops ofwater . He sh irks his workin just the same way . I know that one makes a poorworker with such a bod but still He has been that wayfrom his in fan cy. He rove for his un cles , who kept horses ,but he seemed to get tired of that. He left his occupat ion ,and began to live at home . But that did not suit himeither. He is too restless ; he is a true flea. Fortun atelythe Lord had given him a good master who did not tormenth im . Since then he has don e n othing but wander here and

there , l ike a stray sheep . Then he is so pecul iar ! Somet imes he is as dumb as a rock sometimes he begin s to talk ,andwhat he says God on ly knows ! Is it an aflectat ion ?He is a very extraord inary man . He sings well , however,l ike that ,— gravely ; yes , very well .

He also treats the sickWhat , he ? A man like that ? However, he cured me

of the king's evil . He a doctor ? A pretty idea ! Why , heis a man without any mind. Yes , that is so , he addedafter a moment ’s silence .

Have you kn own him a great while ?Yes , a great while ; we were neighbors at Sitchovki

when they were on the Kracivaia .

A nd this l ittle girl that we met in the woods , — An n ouchka .— is she a relat ive

la‘fi

g

r

lpfei looked at me over his shoulder and began to

IfACIANE.

She ? Certain ly she is a relat ive . She is an orphan .

She has no mother ; it is n o t even kn ownwho hermotherwas .

But she must be a relat ive ; she looks too much like himnot to be . Then she l ives with him, She is a pruden t girl ;n o one can deny that. She is a respectable girl , and the oldfellow seems to be very fon d o f her. He was able , — youwouldn ’t bel ieve it , —he was able to teach A n n ouchka toread and write . Yes , he really did so . But that does n ot

aston ish me : he is so differen t from other men— a chan geable man ; and o ne can

’t even explain H i, hi exclaimedmy driver, suddenly sto pin g his horses ; and then puttinghis head over the side 0 the téléga , he began to sn iff.

“ I thin k I smell something burn ing. I certain l do .

Oh, that n ew axle ! Don ’t men tion it to me ! et Igreased it en ough , I thought . I must go for some water ;there is a l ittle pon d yonder. ”

Erofei g o t slowly down from his seat , took the bucket ,wen t towards the pon d , and then return ed to the téléga. Itwas n o t without pleasure that he l istened to this hissing of

the hub as it was sudden ly dashed with water. He re

peated this operation more than ten times during the driveof ten verstes , and we reached home at nightfall.

278 M Y NEI GHBOR RADILOF.

CHAPTER XX.

MY NEIGHBOR RADILOF.

’

IN the autumn the woodcock often seek the old parks ofl inden . There are many such places in the Govern

men t of Orel . Our gran dfathers were won t , when theychose a place where they proposed to build their abodes , toreserve one or two ddcz

’

atz'

nes of good land for an orchardwith walks of linden s . After fifty or sixty years these res ideuces , these seign orial homes , gradual ly disappeared from off

the face of the earth ; the houses rotted where they stood orwere sold and carried elsewhere ; t he depen dencies thatwere built of brick became heaps of ruins ; the apple- treesperished and were used for fuel ; the en closures and hedgeswere destroyed and soon no vestige of the place remain ed .

But the lin den s con tin ued to prosper, and, surroundedwithfields under cultivation , they recall to our fickle generat ionthe fathers and brothers who now repose in eternity. Theseold trees are magn ificent , and thus far the pitiless axe ofthe Russian peasan t has respected them . Their leaves aresmall , but their great bran ches spread out in every directionand form a vault impen etrable to the rays of the sun .

On e day as I was beat ing the fields for partridges withJermolai , seeing an abandon ed garden at a little d istancefrom us , I wen t towards it . I had scarcel entered thethicket , when a woodcock started up n o isi y out of thebushes ; I fired, and instantly an exclamat ion of alarm washeard a few paces from me , and the terrified face of a younggirl appeared from behind a tree and disappeared againalmost as soon . Jermo lai

’

came runn ing up to me .Why do you shoot here he said , It is a seignorial

residen ce .

I had n ot had t ime to an swer him , and my do g , that hadhas tened to retrieve the wounded bird , had n ot yet brought

1 . To un derstan d this story it must be kn own that in Russia it is forbiddento marry a deceased wife’

s sister.

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280 M Y NEI GHBOR RADILOF.

kaftan ofcoarse blue cloth met us on the steps . Radilof atonce directed him to offer some bran dy to

f!ermolai , who

made a profound bow to his magnan imous ost , althoughthe latter’s back was turned . From an anteroom that wasfilled with motley prin ts and shells we passed into the littleroom that served for Radilof

’

s study. I laid aside my ac

coutremen ts and deposited my g un in the corn er. Theservant in the long kaftan hastened to help me get rid of thedust that covered me .Come n ow in to the sitting- room, said Radilof gra

ciously . I want to presen t you to my mother. ”

I followed him . An old lady was seated upon the divanin the centre of the room ; she had on a brown dress an d a

white cap ; her thin features wore an expression of sweetness , and her timid look was full of sadn ess .Our neighbor, mother, said Radilof.The little old lady rose and bowed without letting g o of

the thick, bag - like reticule that she held in her thin han ds .Have you been long in the coun try ? she asked , with a

sl ig ht movement of the eyelids , in a soft , feeble voice .No , a very short time .

”

Do you propose to stay long here ?I intend to stay here until winter.The o ld lady was silent.“And here is Fedor Mikéitch , said Radilof, ind icating atall thin man whom I had not noticed before . “Come ,Fedia, give our guest a specimen of your talent. Why haveyou buried yourself in that corn erThe individual thus addressed immediately rose , tookfrom the window- seat a wretched violin which he placedag ain st his breast, and seizing the bow in the middle hebeg an to scrape o n his instrument , and to sing and dan ce .He appeared to be about seven ty years old ; a long frockcoat of nankeen floated sadly over his thin , bony limbs .He danced with strange contort ion s ; sometimes n oddinghis l ittle bald head with a smart air, and at others swaying itlanguidly as if he was about to give up the ghost . He wouldstretch out his long neck with its swellin g vein s , stamp onthe floor , and at times ben d his knees with difficulty. Thesoun ds that issued from his toothless mouth were harsh andi n dist in ct . Radilof un derstood without doubt from theexpression ofmy face that Fedia

’s skill d id not give me allthe leasure he thought it would .

ell done, old fellow,

” he said to him ; that is enoug h .

M Y NEI GHBOR RADI LOF. 281

You can go and get your reward . The old man immediately deposited his violin on the win dow - seat , bowed to eachof us in turn , begin ning with me as the stranger , andwentout of the room .

“He was a gentleman also , contin ued my n ew frien dhe even had a fair fortune ; but he has squan dered it , and

n ow he lives with me. Formerly he passed fo r the mosten terprisin man in the governmen t . He has eloped withthe wives 0 two men ; he has had singers , and could himselfsing and dan ce better than an y on e. But don ’t you wan t ataste of bran dy ? Din n er is on the table .

The young girl that I had seen in the woods n ow came in .

Ah , here is Olga ,” said Radilof, turn ing his head sl ightly.

I put her un der your care . Come , let us sit down .

We went in to the din ing- room. While we were taking ourplaces , Fedor Mikéitch , with his eyes g listen in and his n osea l ittle red from the reward that had been a min istered tohim, san g “Reten tz

’

ssez foua'

res de la w‘

ctoz’

re.

1 A place wasset for him apart in the corner at a little table without an ytable- cloth . The poor o ld fellow could not boast of being veryn eat , and that is why they always kept him a little apartfrom the company. He crossed himself with a sigh , and

began to eat l ike a shark . The din ner was really prettygood , and following the custom there was served in hon or o fthe day a shakin g jelly andsome Span ish puffs . Radilof, who

had served two years in an in fan try regimen t , and had beenin Turkey during the last war, gave us a chapter of his campaig ns . I l isten ed with pleasure , all the while stealing slyglan ces at Olga . She could n ot be called pretty , but the lookofquiet decision that appeared on her features , her large whiteforehead , her thick hai r, her brown eyes , small but l ively, intellig en t and clear, would have imtg

essed any man in myplace . She followed the stories of adilof with in terest , orrather with a con tained and passion ate atten tion . Radilof

might have been her father ; he treated her with familiaritbut I immediately divin ed that she was n ot his daughter. 11

the course of his conversation he happened to men t ion hiswife , who was dead , and he added “ her sister ,

” in dicatingOlga. She at once blushed and dropped her eyes . Radilof

stopped andchanged the conversat ion to another subject Theoldmother did n ot open her mouth durin g the whole dinn er.She eat almost nothing, and did not press me to do hon or

1 . A celebrated hymn composed in the time ofCatherine.

282 M Y NEI GHBOR RADILOR.

to the various dishes that were served . I thought I couldread on her features a sort of expectation , sickly and withouthope— that peculiar expression of sorrow that it is so sad tosee in the faces of the ag ed . A fter din n er Fedor Mikéitch

to sin the merits of the master of the house and h isguest. But adilof g ave me a glance and begged him to beseated . The old fellow passed his hand over his mouth ,

dropped his eyes , made a bow and took his seat ag a inmodestly o n the edge of his chair. When we g ot up fromthe table we wen t in to our host 's study .

There is gen erally foun d among men who cherish a rul in gthoug ht or passion someth ing in common that gives them a

certain moral resemblan ce,however differen t may be their

accomplishments , their talen ts , their posit io n in the world,

and the educat ion that they have received . The mo re Iobserved Radilof, the more apparen t it seemed to be that hebelong ed to this class of in dividuals . He talked , it is true ,about econ omy , crops , and war , without forgettin g the g ossip of the district and the approaching elect ion s of the n obility . He talked naturally and even warmly o n these subjects ,but he would sudden ly draw a little sigh and fal l back in h ischair, and pass his han d over his forehead like a man who istired out by a pain ful task . On e would have said that h iswarm and

gen erous heart was imbued with a single feeling .

I had al tea y been much surprised to find him indifferen t tothe thingsmost of our coun try proprietors are so much in terested in : he cared for n either the table , nor for shoot ing,n or for the night ingales of Koursk , n or for tumbler- pigeon s ,n or for Russsian l iterature , nor for run n ing horses , nor forHun arian coats , n or for cards and bill iards , n or for dances ,n or or trips to the capital and the town s of the governmen t , n or for paper- mi lls , nor for sugar- refin eries , nor formotley pavilions , n or for tea , n or for prancing carriag ehorses , n or for even the fat coachmen with belts up un dertheir armpits— those majest ic coachmen who at each movement of the neck , for some reason or other, open their eyesso wide that they seem about to start out of their heads.“What sort of a coun try gen tleman can he be , then Isaid to myself . However, I ought to add that he did not inany way seek to give himself the appearan ce of a gloomyman or on e d iscon ten ted with his lot . On the contrary , hiswho le appearan ce breathed an air of extreme kin dn ess, a

I . I t is still the customin Russia , in the provinces , to sin g at the end of dinner of themeri ts of the host at whose table you are.

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284 M Y NEI GHBOR RADI LOF.

was l ike one possessed , A fter she had been laid out according to our custom, she was placed upon the table‘— in th isvery room where we are . The priest came with his subdeacons and beg an to chan t and pray and burn in cen se . Iprostrated myself with my face to the ground , but withoutsheddin g a tear. My heart andmy head were l ike ston e— I

was crushed . So the first day passed . The n ight came , an d— will you believe me — I slept . The n ext morn ing I wen tin to the roomwhere the body of my wife was lying. It wassummer, and the sun li ht covered it from heat toa dazzlin sunlight . ut all at on ce I perceived (hereRadilof s uddered) —what do you thin k ? On e of her

eyes was partially open , and upon this eye a fly was crawl in g .

I fell l ike a dead person , and when I came to I began to

weep ; nothing could quiet me.

Radilofwas silen t . I looked at him and then turn ed myeyes towards Olg a . I shall n ever so long as I l ive forget theexpression on her face . Radilof

’

s old mother dropped herstocking into her lap, and, drawing a han dkerchief from her

ret icule,furtively wiped away a tear. Fedor Mikéitch

jumped up , seized his violin , and struck upa song in a hoarse ,wild voice . He in tended doubtlessly to distract our attention ; but the first soun d he uttered made us shudder, andRadilof begged him to stop.

However, he resumed , what is past can not behelped . It is impossible to chan ge anything ; and then— allis for the best in this world

,as has been said— I thin k by

V oltaire he added quickly.

Yes , I replied , you are right ; there is n o evil that cannot be bo rn e , as there is no position , however critical , that ishopeless . ”

Do ou thin k so said Radilof. Perhaps you areright . remember that when I was in Turkey I was on cein the hospita l at the poin t of death I had the typhus fever .The place was n o t the best arranged on e in the world , but(i la g uerre comma d la g uerre, and I ought to have con

s idered myself lucky . However, n ew pat ien ts are broughtin , and where are they to be put ? The doctor bustlesabout ; it is impossible . He comes to my bed and asks then urse ‘Is he alive ? ’ The n urse replies , He was alive thismorn i n g .

’

The doctor ben ds over me : I st ill breathe . Thedear fellow could n ot help saying, How is it he can havesuch a rid iculous con st itution ? He won ’t get well , an

x . I n Russia it is the customto lay out the dead on a table.

M Y NEI GHBOR RAD ILOF. 285

ought to die . But n o ! he hangs on , just at death’s door,

and keeps the place that we want . ’

Well ,’ I said to myself , ‘ it seems that I am not goin g

to get out of this scrape .

’ Nevertheless I did et well , andasyou see I am still in the land of the l iving. es, you are

ri t .g“ I am right in any even t , I replied ; “ for even if you hadd ied , you would have escaped from the unfortunate positionyou were in .

”

True,beyond peradventure , he replied , bringing his fist

down upon the table . “The on ly thin g is to be able tomake up your mind . Why remain in a false position ?Why hesitate and put off01 a rose hast ily and wen t out into the garden .

ome, Fedia , a song, exclaimed Radilof.The old fellow started up, and began to march about theroomwith all the elegan ce of the goat1 that is led about inpublic with a tame bear , singing “Der/emf n otre por teCocitére.

The sound of a drochki was heard in the court- yard , and afew minutes later an old man , tall and rather stout , appearedin the room ; he was an odn odvoretz n amed Ovc1an ikof.But he is such a remarkable person that I must ask the

reader’s permission to devote a separate chapter to him.

For t he presen t I will con ten t myself with addin g that Istarted out again the next morn ing at daybreak

, and at theend of the day I return ed home . Several weeks passed . Icalled again at Radilo f’s , but I foun d n either him nor Olgathere . A fortn i g ht afterwards I learn ed that he had

suddenly left his mother, and fled with his sister- in - law.

This elopemen t created a great sen sation throughout thewhole governmen t , and it was only then that I un derstoodthe mean ing of the look I noticed on Olga’s face whenRadilofwas telling me about his wife

’s death . It was n ot

grief alon e that she felt at that moment, but she was consumed with jealousy .

Before leaving my place , I paid a visit to Radilof’

s oldmother, and found her in the sitting- room, playin g cardswith Fedor Mikéitch .

“Have you had any n ews of your son ? I asked in thecourse of the conversation . The poor woman burst in totears , and I spoke n o more of the fugit ives .

1 . Generally aman is dressed up to resemble a g oat, and dan ces before thebear to arouse him.

286 THE ODIVOD VORETz.

CHAPTER XXI .

THE on n on voxn'

rz.

‘

I MAGINE, my dear readers , a man tall , corpulent, at leastseven ty years of ag e, with a physiogn omy that recal ls

a little that of Krylof,’ an in tell igen t eye, thick eyebrows , a

n oble bearing , measured speech , and a del iberate walk ,such is in a few words the portrait of Louka PetrovitchOvcian ikof. He gen erally wore a large blue frock- coat button ed up to the throat , a green silk cravat, and hussar boo tsornamen ted with a tassel . His dress was , as can be seen ,

very much like that of a rich merchant . He had soft white,

well- shaped han ds , and when he talked he often played withthe button s of his coat . With his imposing and quiet mann er, his wisdom and indolen ce , his uprightness and obst in acy , Ovcian ikof recalled in my min d our old Boyards of thet ime before Peter the Great; the ferz

'

aze’ seemed made for

him ; he was on e of the last represen tatives of the men of thepast cen tury ; all h is n eighbors held him in h igh esteem ,

and con sidered it an hon or to be on e of his acquaintances .

As to his odnodvoretz brothers , they almost worshipped h imthey were extremely proud of him, and took off their hats assoon as they saw him in the distan ce . It is gen erally rather d ifficult at presen t to distinguish an odn odvoretz from a peasan t ;his house is often poorer than that of a farm- serf ; his cattle don ot feed o n clover ; his horses can scarcely walk ; and ropestake the place of harn ess . Ovcian ikofwas an exception to

the rule ; al though— be it un derstood— he did not pass for arich man . He l ived alon e with his wife in a comfortable ,well - kept l ittle house ; his servan ts were few in number andwere dressed in the Russian mode ; he always spoke of themas “my workmen ,

”

and employed them in the cultivation ofh is lan d . He did n o t give h imself the airs of a lord , n or d id

1 . Impoverished gen t lemen who have lost their rights . They forma classby themselves in Russia .

2 . A very popular Russian fabulist the Russian La Fon taine.

3 . The court costume of the old Boyards.

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288 THE ODNOD VORETZ.

Handmemy hat and cane. He l iked to break his horsesh imself, and once a spirited bitiouk‘ran away with him downa hill towards a ravine . “Come , you little fool , be quiet , bequiet said Ovcian ikof, ou will do yourself some harmand a momen t later the orse , the drochki, and the groomwho was seated beside Ovcian ikof, rolled with him into theravin e . Fortunately the bottom was covered with san d andthere was n o serious accident to deplore , the horse alon eSprain ing his leg .

“You see n ow, said Ovcian ikof quietly ,as he picked himself up , “ I warn ed you.

— He had foun d awife who was perfectly suited to him . Tatiana I lin ichnaOvcian ikof was tall , grave , and silent ; and she always worea brown silk handkerchief about her head . Her man n erswere glacial and yet n o on e ever had reason to complain ofher severity ; while , on the con trary, reat n umbers of poorpersons ve her the n ame of mot er and ben efactress .Her regu ar features , her large black eyes , and her fin ely cutlips still bore witness to the beauty for which she had beencelebrated . But this couple— so well matched— had n o ch ildren .

I made the acquain tan ce of Ovcian ikof at Radilof’

s house ,as I have already told you , and a few days afterwards I calledupon him . He was at home and I foun d him sitting in alarge leather arm- chair read i ng The Lives of the Saints .A gray cat purred upon his shoulder. He received me as

usual in a pleasan t and dign ified man n er, andwe began aton ce to talk .

“Tell me fran kly , Louka Petrovitch I said to him in thecourse of our conversation , the old t imes were better thanours .

I n some respects , repl ied Ovcian ikof; as for in stan cewe l ived more tranquilly . There was more comfort , it i strue ; but n evertheless our times are better , and, by the graceof God , our ch ildren will be even better off than we are .

”

“Why , I expected , Louka Petrovitch , to hear from yourmouth a eulogium of the old t imes .No , for my part I have n o reason to praise them . Let

me give ou an in stan ce . You are a n oble , as was your laterandfat er before you ; yet your power is much less thanis was , and you yourself are an en tirely different sort ofman .

There are even n ow many n obles who oppress us , but that is

r . This name is given to a particular breed of horses raised in theGovernmen tofV oronéje.

THE OD IVOD VORETz. 289

inevitable. By dint of grinding we shall in the end get fineflour. No I shall n ever again see what I have seen in myearly life .

What, then , have you seenTake for example your gran dfather ofwhom I have just

spoken . He was a powerfu l man , and he did n ot spare uscommon people . Now you doubtless know— you ought toknow your own estates— the l ittle corn er of land that is between Tcha lig uin o and Malin ina . A t presen t it is plan tedwith oats .

EVery well ; it belongs to us ; all that place is ours .Your gran dfather took it from us . He moun ted his horseone day and stretched out his han d towards it, and said ,That belong s to me ,

"

and he became the mas ter of it. Mylate father— may God have mercy on his soul — was a justman , but quick- tempered , and he took the affair to heart.One does not like to let one’s self be plun dered without resistan ce. He carried the matter before the courts . Theothers were afraid , and he appeared alone . Your grandfathersoon learned that Peter Ovcian ikof accused him of havingdeigned to take his land from him. He at once sent out hishun tsman , Babouche , with hismen , who seized my father andtook him on to your estate. I was then a very small boy ,and followed with bare feet . Do you know what passed ?They took him under the win dows of our house and floggedhim there , under the very windows . Your grandfather stoodupon the balcony and watched the execution . Your grandmother was sitting at the win dow watching it also . Myfather cried out , Maria V acilievna , my mother, dei n to in

tercede for me ; be merciful !’

But she con ten te herselfwith getting up and looking at him. My father was obli edto promise that he would never claim the land ain , an to

give than ks that he had been permitted to l ive . sk of yourpeasants the name that was given to this piece of land . It iscalled The Cudgel ,

’ because it was by means of the cudgelthat it was acquired , You must understand now why it isthat l ittle persons like myself ought n o t to regret the oldentime . ”

I did n ot know how to reply to Ovcian ikof, and dared noteven raise my eyes to h is .“There came to us about the same time another neighbor ,of the name of Stepane NiktOpo lion itch Komof. He alsoacted cruelly towards my father. I f not in one way, it was inan other that we were beset . This Komof was a drunkardand loved to make others drink too . When in his drunken

290 THE ODNOD VORETZ.

fits he said in bad Fren ch , with his tong ue in h is cheek ,

C’

est bon ne.

’

He would begin his pran ks by having all theholy images taken out of the room . He would sen d for hisn eighbors in the carriages that were always ready at hisorder, and if any one of them would n ot come he would gofor him himself . He was a very pecul iar person . He n everl ied when he was sober, but scarcely had -he swallowed a dropof anything when he would begin to tell how that he had atPetersburg three houses— a red on e with a single chimn ey

,a

yellow on e with two chimn eys , and a blue one without anychimney at all . He would say that he had three sons— hehad nevertheless never been married— o f whom one was inthe caval another in the in fan try , and the third did nothin g . Eac of them, he would add , l ived in on e of his houses .

The eldest received n on e but admirals , the secon d on ly g enerals , and the third n oth ing but En gl ishmen . Then he wouldget up and say , To the health of my eldest son— he is themost respectable of the three and thereupon he would beginto weep. Woe un to him that refused to drin k ! I will blowout his brain s ,

’ he would say , ‘and I won’t let his body be

buried .

’

Sometimes he would jump up suddenly and ex

claim , Dance , children of the good God, divert yourselvesand amuse me . ’ And there was n othing to say ; the dan cehad to proceed at any cost . He had used up all the youn gdvorovi girls . Every night they sang in chorus un til momi

‘xg ;and the o ne that sang the highest received a reward .

en their song slacken ed , he would bury his face in hishands and begin to groan out , ‘Oh , poor orphan that I amThey abandon me, l ittle dove that I am !

’ Then the groomswould immed iately rush in with their whips to give new l ifeto the singers . He took a fan cy to my father ; what couldbe don e ? He all but buried h im . He certain ly wouldhave killed him, if by good luck he had n ot first died h imself. One day when he was in his cups he fell from the topof a dovecote . That is what our dear neighbors did in theolden time. ”

The times then are very much changed , I said .

Yes , n o doubt, he replied . It must , however , beackn owledged that the nobles in those t imes lived with morepomp. As to the great n obles , there can be no comparisonmade ; I have had the opportun ity to observe them at Mos

cow. But they say that even in Moscow they are no longero n the old footing.

”

“You have been to Moscow, then ?

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292 THE ODNOD VORET2.

was at Moscow he arranged a coursing-match such as therehad n ever been in all Russia ; he invited all the sportsmenin the empire without except ion . He appoin ted a day , andgave them three mon ths in which to assemble . Then theycame with their dogs and their hun tsmen , an army— a veritable army o i them. They n aturally began with a ban quet ,and then they all repaired to the coursing roun d . A ll theworld was there . A n dwhat do you think I t was one ofyour gran dfather

’s dogs that outran all the others .“ It was M ilovidka , was it n o t ? I asked .

Yes , Milovidka , Milovidka . The coun t began to importune your grandfather. Sell me the dog ,

’ he said : ‘I willgive an ything you ask .

’ No , coun t ,’ he repl ied ~

‘I am n ot

a merchan t . I would n ot sell a rag . I would give my wifefor nothing, as a mark of consideration but Milovidkan ever ! I would rather give myself up boun d han d and foot .A nd A lexis Grig oriev itch applauded him

‘That suits me ,’

he said . Your grandfather carried Milovidka away in h iscarriage , and when he died buried him in the garden withmusic . Yes , he had the dog buried , and ordered a ston e tobe placed over his grave .

You must ackn owledge that A lexis Grig oriev itch at leastnever wronged any person .

It is always so . People who cannot swim in deep waterare always the ones that do the most harm .

“Who is this Babouche of whom you have spoken ? Iasked after a momen t

’s silen ce .

How ? do you know about Milovidka , and don’t kn ow

who this Babouche was ? He was a Tartar, the chief huntsman and equerry ofyour gran dfather, who cared even morefor him than he did for M ilovidka . He was a man readyfor anything. Every comman d that your gran dfather gavehim he executed on the in stan t . To obey he would havethrown himself upon the poin t of a sword . And how he

would urge on the dogs ! You could hear him from one endof the forest to the other. But he was often freaky . Hewould get off his horse and l ie down in the grass . No soon erwould the dogs cease to hear his voice than they would stopshort . They would drop the scent , and n othing in the worldcould in duce them to pick it up again . Your gran dfatherwould fly in to a passion .

‘May I die if I don’t han g the

rascal ! I’

ll turn him in side out , the an tichrist ! I’ll make

h im swallow his heels , the villain !’

But he would con tenth imself W ith sen din g to in quire what Bahouche wanted , and

THE ODIVOD VORETZ. 293

why he did not sen d the dogs forward . Bahouche gen erallydeman ded bran dy , and then he would remount and begin toshout louder than ever.

You, too , are fon d of hun ting, I see , Louka Petrovitch .

Now I am too old but when I was youn g I will n ot sa

that I was n ot . But in my con dit ion of l ife it is a difficu tthing. It does n ot do for us small people to play the lord .

At on e time , it is true , a man of our class , a sort of drunkengood - for- nothing, made advan ces to some of the n obil ity ,imaginin g that they would treat him as a comrade ; but afine time he had of it ! He made a laughing- stock of himself. They put him astride of a n ag that stumbled at eachstep , and amused themselves with knocking off his cap everyminute . They cut himwith whips under the pretext of heatin g his horse , and he had to laugh and to serve as a buffoonfor others . No , you see that the more depen dent one is themore circumspect one must be in order not to in cur contempt.“Yes , cont in ued Ovcian ikofwith a sigh , it is a longtime since I came into the world , and other t imes are here .

It is especially with the n obil ity that the change is marked .

The small proprietors have all been in governmen t employ ,or have at least seen something of their coun try ; thelarge proprietors are also very much changed . I have hadan opportun ity to become acquain ted with them, with therich ones at leas t , at the t ime of the lan d valuation . I willn ot conceal from you that my heart has been rejoiced at seein g them . They have become more affable , more olite .But what aston ishes me is that while they know 1 thescien ces and can speak so as to move the very soul , they areabsolutely un acquain ted with busin ess and do n ot understand their own in terests . Generally their steward , a simple serf, does what he wants to with them. You doubtlessknow A lexan der V ladimirov itch Korolef. He is a veritablenoble. He is handsome in person and is rich . He hasstudied at the z

’

nwrsz’

tés , and has even , I bel ieve , travelled inforeign coun tries . He talks easily and modestly, and alwaysshakes hands with us . You know him ? V ery well ; l isten toin story . Last week when we had assembled at Berezovka,w ere we had been summoned by Nikifor Ilitch , the arbitrator , Gen tlemen ,

’ he said , ‘ it is n ecessary to proceed withthe survey of your lan ds for the purpose of the valuation . Itis a shame we are behin d the others ; let us set to work .

’

The work was begun , and soon the ordinary discussions

294 THE ODIVOD VORETz .

were started among us our attorn ey took an active part inthem. The first to get an ry was Porfiri Ovtchin ikof an d

why should he act so ? He has n o t a foot of lan d in theworld ; he represen ts his brother. However, he began tovociferate : No , you won

’t make me do that ! I am n ot

that kind of a fellow ! Give me the plan . Have the surveyor brought in ; brin g the rascal here .

’ ‘But what are

y)our claims they asked him. Do you take me for a fool0 you thin k I am going to expose my han d l ike that ? No ;brin g me the plan s first ! the plan s , I say !

’

A nd all thewhile he was hold ing forth in this man n er he was thumpin gthe plan s with his fist , for they were before him on thetable . He then made some very in sult ing remarks aboutMarfa Dmitrevn a , who exclaimed , How do you dare toasperse my reputation Your reputation , in deed he replied .

‘ I wouldn ’t have it for my bay mare !’

He couldbe calmed on ly by making himdrin k madeira. But he hadscarcely?been quieted when others broke out. Poor A lex

an der ladimirov itch remain ed seated in the , corn er n od

ding and sucking the head of his can e . I was ashamed ofthe disorder, an d I should have been glad to be far away fromit . ‘What will the worthy man thin k of us ? ’ I said to myself. But all at on ce he rose and indicated a desire to speak .

The moderator at on ce exclaimed , ‘Gen tlemen , gen tlemen ,

A lexan der V ladimirov itch wishes to speak .

’ I must do theperson s present the justice to say that they all hasten ed tobecome quiet . A lexander V ladimirov itch began .

‘It seemsto me, gen tlemen ,

’ he said , ‘that we are losin sight of theobject for which this meetin g was called . he del imitat ion of our estates is not on ly useful for the proprietors ,but it has also another advantage it will make the task ofthe peasan t easier ; you must l ighten his work andmake itpossible for him to pay his ren t with less difficulty . At

presen t he scarcely kn ows his land , and has often to go fiveverstes to cultivate his fields . Why be so exacting with him? ’

A fter that A lexan der V ladimirov itch told us that it was acrime in proprietors n o t to occupy themselves more with thewell - being of their peasan ts ; that their in terests and ourswere common when theywere prosperous we were prosperous , and when they were un prosperous we were so too .

That was why it would be wicked to separate withoutcoming to some agreemen t , and that because of mere t rifles.

He con tinued at great length in that strain , and how wellhe spoke ! What he said wen t straight to the heart . The

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296 THE ODNOD VORETZ.

Then explain to me , I beg you , this marvel it is beyondme

‘

: I have the fact , however, from his own asan ts , but Ido n ot un derstand at all what they tell me . ou kn ow thathe is st ill young , and has on ly lately come in to possession ofhis estates upon the death of his mother. He arrives in thev illage : the peasan ts had assembled to see the n ew lord , andhe fin ds them there . The peasan ts look at him : what a

marvel ! He wears velvet breeches like a coachman , bootsup to his knees a red sh irt , and a kaftan . He g rows abeard , and the l ittle cap that he has on his head is mostcomical , and his face is comical , too . He isn ’t drun k , buthe is not exactly himself. ‘Good - day , children ,

’ he says ,God bless you.

’ The peasants bow, but say n othing .

You un derstand : they are abashed . The master himselfseems to be a little timid , but he contin ues to speak .

‘ Iam a Russian ,

’ he says , ‘and you are Russian s . I love

everything that is Russian . I have a Russian heart andRussian blood .

’ Then he sudden ly exclaimed , in a tone ofcommand , Come , children , strike up a Russ ian song, anation al song.

’ The peasan ts were so fri g hten ed that theirkn ees kn ocked together ; one of them, bolder than theothers , began a song, but stopped almost as soon as he bean , and hasten ed to hide h imself in the crowd . Do ou

n ow what surprises me most in all this ? We have 0 tenhad dissipated and vulgar lords ; they would dress almostl ike their grooms , would dan ce , sing , play on the gu itar, anddrin k with their dvorovi and their peasan ts : but V ass il iNikolaitch is more l ike a girl ; he passes his time in reading,writing , or declaiming can tatas ; he con verses with n o on e ;

he is wild , and does n othing but walk about his garden as ifhe were d in g of en nui or sorrow. The old steward wasalarmed w en he was in formed of the expected arrival of theyoung master : he began to visit the peasan ts and treatthem very civ ill The old cat knows very well whose meathe has eaten .

2l‘he peasan ts were n ot taken in by this behavior. ‘ It is in vain , my fin e fellow,

’ they said ; ‘all thatwon ’t get you out of the scrape ; on will have to ren derour accoun t , my turtle- dove . e shall see you dan ce .

’

ut they were mistaken ; in place of that it happen edGod himself could make n othin g of it ! The young mastersummon ed himbefore him, and said blushin g andhesitati ng ,‘U n

’

derstan d that you must be uprig ht ; do you hear ? anddon t oppress.

the peasan ts . ’ And Sin ce that he has neversummon ed h im in again . He l ives in the country like a

THE ODNOD VORET2. 297

stranger. Seeing that, the steward was reassured , and the

Peasants did not dare to complain to V assil i Nikolaitch :they were afraid . Here is another strange thing : the master salutes them and looks kindly at them ; but, in s ite of itall , they almost die of fear when they see him . ow doyou explain this ? Perhaps ag e makes me stupid ; but I canmake noth ing of it.I replied to Ovcian ikof that Lioubozvonof was probably

He i ll ! He is as broad as he is tall , and his face is asround as an apple , young as he is. But who can tell andOvcian ikofdrew a deep sigh .

Come , let us leave the nobles , I said , “and talk aboutthe odn odvoretz, Louka Petrovitch .

No , spare me from talking about them , he repl ieduickly . Truly— I would have told you a

fgreat

manyt ings ; but what would be the use? Ovcian iko made a

gi

g/s

ture with his hand .

“Let us rather sit down to tea. eodnodvoretz are peasan ts : and for that matter, could we bean thing else ?”

e became silent . Tea was brought in . Tatiana Il in ichna arose and came to sit beside us . In the course of

the evening she went out and in several times without makin g the sli htest noise . Silence reign ed through the room .

Ovcian iko gravely filled the cups one after another.‘

0

‘Mitia came to - day,” said Tatiana I lin ichna in a low

v oice .What does he want ? repl ied Ovcian ikof, frowning.

He came to excuse himself. ”

Ovcian ikof nodded .

“ I appeal to you,

” he said , turn ing tome. What must bedon e with relatives ? They can not be abandoned . Heavenhas blessed me with a nephew, a youn g fellow that does notlack min d ; he is bright , I agree , and he has studied ; but Ican get no good out of him . He entered the service of thecrown ; then he left it— he did not rise uickly en ough .

What do you think of that ? He is not n o le, and a nobleeven does n ot reach the ran k of en crai with a jump . Nowhe is out of employment ; but t is would be only half anevil had he not taken to pett ifogging. He writes petitionsand in formations for the peasan ts ; he directs the sOi

‘SRz

‘

;l

1 . An ofi cer or peasan t employed under the orders of the ispravn ik forpohce duty in the district.

298 THE ODIVOD VORETz.

he shows up the tricks of the surveyors ; he frequents publ ic- houses , associates with tradesmen and waiters . Followin g in that course , he may g o a great way farther. Thelice have already threatened him more than once but he

as been able to get himself out of the scrape : he makesthem laugh , and takes them in . He isn ’t in your room , ishe he added , turning to his wife . “ I kn ow you : yourheart is tender, and you have taken him un der your protection .

”

Tatiana I lin ichna smiled , looked down , and blushed .

I was not mistaken , resumed Ovcian ikof. “Well , tel lh im to come in there is nothing to be done . I will pardonthe fool in honor of our dear g uest. Come, fetch him in .

”

Tatian a I lin ichn a wen t to the door and cal led , Mit ia !A young man of about eight- and- twen ty , tal l , well made ,and with curly hair, appeared upon the threshold but whenhe saw me he stopped . He was dressed like a German , butthe sleeves of his coat were cut in the leg- of- mutton fashion ,and their dimen sions were alone enough to prove that h ista ilor was a true Russian of the provinces .“Come here , come here ,

” said the old man to him . Youseem to be ve timid . Than k your aun t , you are forg iven .

There , fatherfI recommend him to you , he added , pointingto Mitia he is my nephew , but that is all I can say forhim . The end of the world is comin We exchangebows . “Come , tell us about the last a air ou have beenmixed up in . Why were you complained of Come, speakout. ”

It was very easy to see that Mitia d id not care to enterinto explanat ion s and to justify himself in my presen ce .“ I W ill tell you all about it later, un cle, he stammered

No , tell me at once , replied the old man . You don ’twan t to talk before this gentleman . I un derstand it , and it isso much the worse for you . Do your penan ce . Come ,please to begin ; we are l istening.

I have n othing to blush for, said M itia v ivaciously ,shaking his head .

“ I Will make you the’

udg e of it yourself, uncle . Some odn odvoretz from R chit ilof came tome and said , Defen d us , brother !

’ What is the troubleThis is it : Our corn - magaz in es are as well kept as possible

an oflicer sudden ly came to in spect them. He goes throughthem an d then says to us , Your magaz in es are in a bad condi tion : they n eed many thin gs . I shall make my report. ”

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3 00 THE ODNOD VORETz.

Hey ? Dmitri A lexandrov itch ,

’ they say to you , ‘cometo our aid , brother ; we W i ll be most grateful and they sl ipinto your hand a piece of silver or a bank- note . Isn ’t thatthe way the th ing is don e ? Tell meIt is true ; I acknowledge my faults . But I ask nothin g

of the poor, and I act hon estly .

You take nothing now ; but when you are in want youwill end by taking from the poor as well as from the rich .

You act hon estly ! What a yarn ! and would t to makeme believe that all those you help are sain ts ! nd BorkaPerikodof, — have you then forgotten him? Who took himunder his protect ion ? You ought to know something aboutit M

Perikodofwas to blame , I con fess .He only spent the mon ey of the crown ; nothing but

that“You must also take in to considerat ion , uncle , h is pov

erty and his numerous family.

Poverty ! poverty ! He was a drunkard , a scamp ; thatis the truth of it . ”

He took to drin k to con sole himself, added Mitia ,lowering his voice .

“To con sole himself ? W ell , one comes to the aid of a

man that is down , but does n ot pass Whole days drin kingwith him. You will say that he was a good talker— a goodreason in deed for passing his time in a dram- shop

He was one of the best ofmen .

A ll those with whom you are con cern ed are excellen tmen . By the way , he added , turning to his wife , did you

send him— you understandTat ian a I lin ichn a replied W ith a nod.

What has become of you of late ? continued the old

man .

“ I was in town .

Playing bill iards , without doubt , drin king tea, scrapin gthe guitar, haun ting the courts , drawing petit ions in the

waiting- rooms, and strutt ing about with merchants’ son s .

It is so , is it n ot ? Tell me.

”

“Well , let it be so if you wish , said Mit ia with a smile .Oh , but I forg ot to tell you that Anton e Mart i n itchFoun t ikofwan ts you to din e at his house on Sunday.

“ I shall n ot go n ear that fellow ; he reg ales me withmag n ificen t fish dressed With ran cid oil God bless him.

I met also Fédocia Mikailof.

THE OD IVOD VORETZ. 3 01

What Fédocia ?A woman who belongs to the proprietor Garpen tchen

ko ,— he who bought Mikoulin o at auction . Fédocia is

of that coun try. She paid an abrok of a hun dred and

eighty - two roubles and a half, andworked as dressmaker inMoscow . She kn ows her trade , and she was getting a greatmany orders in Moscow ; but Garpen tchenko has called herback , and holds her W ithout setting her at an y work . She

would like very much to buy her freedom, and she has evenSpoken to her master on the subject ; but Garpen tchenko hasgiven her no reply . You kn ow Garpen tchenko , un cle , andyou could say a word to him about it . As for Fédocia , she

would pay a good price for her freedom.

Not with your money ? Hey ? Well , well , I will speakto him about it , I promise you . But I don ’t kn ow , he cont inuedwith a disturbed air. ThisGarpen tchen ko— may Godforgive him - makes mon ey out of everything. He lends atusury , and buys up the lan ds that are sold at auction . He

is a sad acquisit ion for the country. Oh ! these new- comersfrom Little Russia distress me ! It will be hard to make anyarrangement with him. But we shall see . ”

“Try to arran e the matter, un cle .Well , well ,

’

ll try . But look well to yourself ! Youunderstand me. Come , n ow, don

’t try to excuse yourself.May God forgive you May God forgive you ! But for thefuture take care , or I warn you , Mit ia , you will n ot escape ,and in the end you will come to ruin . I shall not be herealways to len d a helping han d . Besides, I am n ot so veryinfluential myself. Go n ow, and God be with you .

Mitia went out , and Tatiana got up and followed him.

“Give him some tea , good soul that you are , Ovcian ikofcalled out after her. The fellow is n ot stupid ,

” cont inuedOvcian ikof,

“and he is n ot bad . Still I am un easy about

him . But pardon me ; I have entertain ed you W ith ratherunin teresting things .The door of the an teroom Open ed , and a man with a

sl ight figure and grizzly hair, wearing a velvet jacket , cametowards us .“Ah , Frantz Ivan itch ! exclaimed Ovcian ikof. Good

da

yto you ! How are youermit me , my dear readers , to present to you this new

personag e .

Frantz Ivan itch Lejeune , a proprietor in the GovernmentofOrel , and my neig hbor, had risen to the honorable ran k

3 02 THE OD IVOD VORET2.

of a Russian gentleman in a very s ingular way. He wasborn at Orlean s , and served as drummer in the army W ithwhich Napoleon roposed to conquer Russia. Allwent wellat first , and our Fren chman en tered Moscow with his headin the air . But on the retreat poor Mon sieur Lejeune , halffrozen and without his drum, fell in to the hands of somegood little peasants of the Government of Smolen sk . Theseworthy people shut him up for the n ight in a desertedfullin -mill . They dragged him next morn ing towards ahole t at they had cut in the ice and invited the drummerof the g - r- r- rand army to hon or them by makin g a dive .

Mon sieur Lejeune could n o t subscribe to this proposition ;and began to represen t in his turn , but in Fren ch , to thepeasan ts of the Government of Smolen sk that they woulddo much better to let him return to his fireside . Mymother is still al ive , gentlemen ,

” he said to them,

“andshe is

a very ten der mother. But the peasan ts , probably throughtheir ignorance of the geographical situation ofOrlean s , continn ed to urge him to undertake an aquatic journ ey followin g the sinuous course of the little river of Gn ilo te

‘

i‘

ka

and they had already taken upon themselves the responsibil it of makin g him come to a decision by admin isteringsun ry thumps upon his back , when , to the in describablesat isfact ion of Mon sieur Lejeun e , bells were heard , and verysoon there appeared upon the causeway a huge sledge , thehigh back ofwhich was covered with a gaudily flowered rug ,and which was drawn by three v igorous well- fed horses .This equipage bore a fat proprietor W ith red cheeks who waswrapped warmly up in a wolf- skin pel isse .

What are you doing there ? he asked the peasan ts .We are drowning a Fren chman , father.Oh , said the proprietor in differen tly , turn ing away.M on sieur , M on sieur!

” cried the poor devil .Eh , eh ! respon ded the man in wolf- skin indign an tly .

You march upon Moscow W ith your coal it ion of twentytribes of the Gent iles ; you burn Moscow— cursed that youare - you carry off the cross of the great Ivan ,

’ and n owM ousszk

’

, M oussz'

e'

! you cry , n ow your tail and ears are down .

You deserv e your pun ishment ! Go on , FilkaThe horses started off again .

Wait a min ute , however,” added the proprietor. Well

,

you , M oussz'

é'

, do you kn ow music ?

1 . The highest spire of the Kremlin .

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3 04 THE OD IVOD VORETz.

A t the end of a few weeks Lejeune was in stalled in thehouse of another proprietor, a rich educated man , whom hisfrank n ature pleased

g lreat ly . He married a young woman

who had been broug t up by the proprietor , en tered theservice of the state , rose to the rank that gives n obility, andmarried his dau hter to a gentleman of the Governmen t ofOrel , an old 0 cer of the dragoons , and a versifier. Hemoved afterwards to Orel , and established himself there.Such is the in dividual gen erally kn own by the name ofFran tz Ivan itch whom I saw come in to Ovcian ikof’s, withwhom he was very in timate .

But we have been a long time at the house of the odnodvoretz . So I must set a bound to my eloquence.

THE FOREST AND THE STEPPE. 3 05

CHAPTER XXI I .

THE FOREST AND THE STEPPE.

IT is very possible that the reader is tired of my stories.

Let him be reassured . I will endwith the pages that heis about to read ; but before taking leave of him, I can nothelp adding a few more remarks on shooting.

Shooting has a singular attraction of itself— fflr sick , as

they used to say at the time when the philosophy of Heg elwas in vogue . But supposing shoot ing is not to

your taste ,

you none the less l ike nature , and it is consequen t y impg ‘ssri;

ble for you not to envy us sportsmen . Listen . Do you kn ow ,

for example , the pleasure one feels in start ing out beforesunrise on a fine day in spring ? You descen d the steps .The sky is of a sombre gray ; a few stars twin kle here andthere ; a moist breeze stirs , and comes run ning up like a l ightwave . You hear the low confused murmur of the night , thetrees rustle softly in the darkn ess . A rug is spread over thetéléga , and a box con tain ing a samovar is placed under ourfeet. The horses shake , sn ort , and pawthe groun d grace ully.

A pair ofwhite geese have just crossed the road slowly andsilent! In the garden behind a hedge the watchman ispeacefi

'

i lly snoring. I n the midst of the cool atmosphere thesl ightest soun d remain s as it were for a long time motionlessand suspended . Then you take your seat. The horsesstart, and the téléga rolls noisily on . You proceed : youpass the church ; you go down the hill , and turn to the rightalong the causewa The pon d is just beginning to be covered with mist. ou feel a l ittle cold , and cover your facewith the collar of your cloak . Sleep steels upon you . Thehorses splash noisily through the puddles of water, andthe coachman whistles on his seat. You have already gonefour or five verstes . The heaven s be in to redden n ear thehorizon. The crows in the trees wa e up and fly heavilyabout. The sparrows twitter about the haycocks . Thedarkness fades away , the road is more distinct ; the skyl ightens up ; the clouds grow white ; the fields are g reener .

3 06 THE FOREST AND THE STEPPE .

In the isba is seen the red flame of the loutclzz’

n a .

‘ Sleepyvoices are heard in the farm ards . Day breaks l ittle by l ittle ; already a few streaks ot

ygold cross the sky , and the mist

gathers in the ravines . The song of the lark is heard ; themorn ing breeze , the herald of the day , springs up , and thered disk of the sun slowly appears . Light spreads like atorren t , and the heart flutters l ike a bird . Everythingbreathes freshness and joy ! You cast your eyes about you .

Yonder , behin d the woods , a vill e appears ; farther youdiscover an other with a white churc still farther on a littlewood of birch stands on the top of a hill ; beyond this woodextends the marsh towards which you are going. Come , mygood horses , quick — a good trot ; you have on ly three littleverstes more to o . The sun rises rapidly ; the sky is clearthe day will be n e. A herd files slowly out from a villageand comes towards you . You hasten to ascen d the hill .What a magn ificen t view ! A river, that winds serpen t- l ikethrou h an expan se of coun try of at least ten verstes , showsblue t rough the mist . Green fields line its course ; fartheron are hillocks , and in the distance lapwings wheel aroun dover a marsh , utterin their cries . The s ight shoots l ikean arrow through the umin ous ether Spread through the air,and discovers distin ctly the farthest objects . How freelyone breathes ! How supple the joints are ! How well andfull of vigor does man feel when recreated by the freshbreath of spring !But n othing can equal a fine morn ing in July ! Thesportsman alon e can appreciate the happin ess that comesfrom wandering about in the thickets at the dawn of day .

The print of your foot shows in green upon the turfwhitened with dew . You push aside the clamp fol iage of thebushes and feel inun dated by the balmy warmth of the n ightimprison ed there . The air is impregnated with the freshbitterness of the wormwood and the honeyed frag ran ce ofthe buckwheat and the clover. In the d istance a grove of

oaks rises l ike a wall lighted up by the red rays of the mornin g sun . It is still cool , but there is already a foretaste of theheat of the mid- day. The air is so balmy that you feel a sortof giddin ess . The underbrush is intermin able . In the distan ce on ly can be seen a few fields of ripening rye, and stripsbf reddish buckwheat . The sound of a téléga is heard . Itis a peasant coming along at a foot- pace , and picking out in

r. A pine-kn ot used as a light .

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THE FOREST AND THE STEPPE.

few hours ago were inundated with the golden waves ofl ight assume a rosy hue . The trees , the bushes , and the tallhaystacks cast shadows that grow lon g er and longer . Thesun has disappeared . A single star comes out , and tremblesin the middle of the sea of flame that fires the western sky .

But th is fiery ocean begin s to pale . The sky grows blue ;the shadows blend ; and n ight is here . It is t ime to seekyour resting- place— the village , the isba Where you in ten d tosleep . Gun upon your shoulder ,

you walk rapid ly

,even

though overcome with fat igue . ut darkn ess in creasesrapidly ; you can not see more than twenty paces ahead ;even the white dogs are scarcely to be d istinguished in themidst of the darkn ess . Above a mass of black bushes , thecolor of the heaven s becomes a little less obscure . Can itbe a fire ? No , it is the rising moon . But soon to your rightyou discover the li hts of a village . Here is your isba , andyou see through t e W indow a table covered with a cloth ,and a l ight : it is the supper awaiting you .

Another day you have a light drochki harnessed , and youg o into the woods to shoot wood - hen s . How pleasan t it isto enter upon a n arrow path that is bordered on each sideby walls of full- grown rye ! The ears strike on softly in theface. The bluets stick to your feet . ! uai s whistle aboutyou, and the horse trots peacefully along. Here is thewood , with its shade and its silence . The tops of the tallaspen s murmur above your head . The long weepingbran ches of the b irches scarcely sway ; the stately oak stan dsup l ike a vigorous athlete beside the graceful linden . Youfollow a path en amelled W ith shadows and verdure ; larg eyellow fl ies balan ce themselves motion lessly in the air, andsudden ly disappear ; gnats hover about in swarms that seemlight in the shade and dark in the sun ; the birds sin

gpeacefully . How well the silvery voice of the warbler witits joyous and in n ocen t twitter blends with the frag ran ce ofthe li ly of the valley ! Come push on into the woods ; thebrake grows thicker ; an indefinable feelin of calmn esssteals over your whole being. A l ight breat of win d stirsthe tree- t0ps , and the sound recalls unmistakably the soundof a waterfall . Slen der plan ts ow here and there upon thebed ofwithered leaves that felI

r

last year ; mushrooms withtheir l ittle caps sprin g up by themselves . A hare suddenlystarts at some distan ce from you ; the dogs with their sonorous voices rush after it .A nd how beautiful are these woods towards the end of

THE FOREST AND THE STEPPE.

autumn when the woodcock come ! The woodcock neverstays in the thicket : he must be sought at the edge of thewoods . There is n o win d , nor is there any sun , n or shadow ,

nor motion , n or even noise . A win e- l ike fragrance , peculiarto autumn , spreads over the coun try . A transparen t misthangs motionless over the fields that grow yellow in the distance . The trees are outl in ed against a pale sky of milkywhite ; a few golden leaves stil l hang here and there uponthe bare bran ches of the lin den . The moist earth seemselast ic un der foot . The tall withered plan ts do not stir , andlong webs sparkle on the dried rass . You breathe freely ,but you are strangely agitated . hile you keep along theedge of the wood , With your eyes fixed upon your dog, thememory of those you love , l ivin g and dead , comes to you.

Impressions lon g since forgotten sudden ly revive . The imag in at ion hovers and sails l ike a bird . and you believe yousee all the images it calls up . Your heart suddenly beg in sto beat rapidly , and you project yourself passionately in tothe future or lose yourself in the past. A ll your life un rollsbefore your eyes. A man possesses himself completely , andseems to seize upon his whole past life , all his feel in gs , allthe streng th of his soul , and n othing in nature about comesto disturb these reveries— neither sun , n or wind , nor n oise ,n or

And then a clear day in autumn , a l ittle cold , when thereis frost in the morn ing , and the silverybit ches , l ike trees thatare told about in fairy tales , are covered with golden bran ches ;when the sun is low and its rays , though , n o lon

ger power

ful , yet have greater brill iancy than in summer . A l ittlegrove of aspen s. en tirely despoiled of leaves and in un datedwith light , seems joyous in its baren ess . The frost stillWhitens the bottom of the valley , and a fresh wind gen tlyraises the withered leaves that cover the groun d , and sweepsthem before it . Long blue waves run gayly over the river,and soft ly rock the ducks and geese scattered over its surface . The wind brin g s the sound 0f a mill half hidden in thewillows , and above it pigeon s of all colors wheel rapidlyabout in the air.Foggy summer days also have their beauties , but sportsmen do not care for them . It is impossible to shoot on suchdays : a head of game rises up under

your feet , and disap

pears almost immediately through t e White motionlessg loom caused by the fog . But how quiet and silen t is everything about you ! Everythin g is awake , and yet everythin g

3 10 THE FOREST AND THE STEPPE .

is silen t. You pass a tree ; n ot a leaf stirs ; it seems to en

joy its rest with del ight . A black l ine appears through themist that covers eve hing ; it looks like a curtain of woods ;you draw n ear, and t e woods change in to a border of wormwood separating the two fields . Above you , about you , thefog is everywhere . But you feel a sl ight puff ofwin d : a bitof sky, of a pale blue , appears in distin ctly through the rarefied mist ; the mist begin s to move , and seems to float l ikesmoke . A brill ian t ray of sun breaks throug h , Spreads overthe fields , touches the woods ; then everyth ing is ag ain obscured. This happen s again and again ; but how calm andfin e is the weather when the light , having fin ally triumphedin this struggle , and the last wav es of heated fo g blen d together and cover the earth as if with a cloth , and unrollsand fades away in the bright depths of a blue skNow ou are on your way to a distant part ot

ythe steppe.

You fol ow the cross- roads for ten verstes ; you come to thehighway. You pass long convoys of carts ; you leave behin dyou the inns with the samovar smoking on their porches ,andwith their gates wide Open allowing you to see the yards ,in which there is always a well ; villages and large greenhemp- fields succeed each other : you g o in this way for a

long, long time . Magpies flutter on the willows that l in ethe road peasant women with long rakes pass over thefields ; a pedestrian in an old n an keen kaftan , a kna sack onhis back , walks along wearily ; the heavy carriag e 0 a noble ,drawn by six lean , foun dered horses, comes slowly towardsus ; it passes , and you see the corn er of a cushion peepin gout of the win dow, and behind , on a bag hemmed in bymattin g and tied with cords , clin s a lackey in a surtout andcovered with mud to his eyes . ere is the town of the d istrict , with its little wooden houses tottering on their foundation s , and its endless hedges , its merchants

’ houses built ofbrick and inhabited , its old brid e thrown over a deep ravine.On ! on The steppe begin s . hat a view is revealed fromthe top of this moun tain In the middle of the plain , l ittleflat hillocks , ploughed and sown from top to bottom , are l ikeun to en ormous waves roll ing up on themselves ; ravin es ,their sides covered with bushes , are between these elevation s ;little groves are scattered here and there l ike islets , and n ar

row paths run from villag e to village ; small white churchesappear in the distan ce ; a little river, l in ed with underbrush ,

win ds through the middle of the plain , and here and therei ts course is stopped by a dam; some bustards are stan d in g

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