来自：A Sportsman's Sketches
So there I lay under a small bush to one side, watching the boys. A small pot hung over one of the fires; potatoes were cooking in it. Pavlusha was watching it and, kneeling, was poking a stick into the boiling water. Fedya lay propped on his elbow with the flaps of his long coat spread out. Ilyusha sat beside Kostya and still squinted tensely. Kostya hung his head a little and gazed somewhere into the distance. Vanya did not stir under his mat. I pretended to be asleep. Gradually the boys began talking again. First they chatted about this and that—about tomorrow's work, about the horses; but suddenly Fedya turned to Ilyusha and, as if resuming an interrupted conversation, asked him: "Well, and so you actually saw the house spirit?" "No, I didn't see him, and you can't see him," answered Ilyusha in a hoarse, weak voice whose sound corresponded perfectly with the expression of his face, "but I heard him... And I wasn't the only one." "Where does he live at your place?" asked Pavlusha. "In the old rolling room." ("Rolling room" or "dipping room" is what they call the building at paper mills where they dip paper from vats. It is located right at the dam, under the wheel. Author's note.) "Do you go to the factory?" "Of course we do. My brother Avdyushka and I work as glazers." ("Glazers" smooth and scrape paper. Author's note.) "Well, well—factory workers!.." "So how did you hear him?" asked Fedya. "Here's how. My brother Avdyushka and I had to stay there, along with Fyodor Mikheyevsky, and Ivashka the Cross-eyed, and another Ivashka from Red Hills, and also Ivashka Sukhorukov, and there were other boys there too; altogether there were about ten of us boys—the whole shift; we had to spend the night in the rolling room, not that we really had to, but Nazarov the overseer forbade us to go home; he said, 'Why should you boys trudge home; there's a lot of work tomorrow, so don't go home, boys.' So we stayed and lay down all together, and Avdyushka started saying, 'What if the house spirit comes, boys?'... And no sooner had he—that is, Avdey—said this, than suddenly someone started walking above our heads; but we were lying downstairs, and he was walking upstairs, by the wheel. We hear him walking, and the boards under him bending and creaking; then he passed right over our heads; suddenly the water began rushing and rushing over the wheel; the wheel started knocking and knocking and turning; but the sluice gates at the race (The "race" is what we call the place where water runs onto the wheel. Author's note.) were lowered. We wondered who raised them to let the water through; but the wheel turned and turned, then stopped. Then that one went back to the door upstairs and started coming down the stairs, and you could hear he wasn't hurrying; the steps under him were actually groaning... Well, he came to our door, waited, waited—and suddenly the door swung wide open. We were frightened, we looked—nothing... Suddenly, look, at one of the vats a mold (The screen used for dipping paper. Author's note.) started moving, lifted up, dipped, moved through the air, as if someone was rinsing it, then back in place. Then at another vat a hook came off a nail and went back on the nail; then it was as if someone walked to the door and suddenly started coughing and choking, like a sheep or something, and so loudly... We all tumbled in a heap and crawled under each other... How frightened we were that time!" "Well, well!" said Pavel. "Why did he cough?" "I don't know; maybe from the dampness." Everyone fell silent. "Are the potatoes cooked?" asked Fedya. Pavlusha felt them. "No, still raw... Listen, it splashed," he added, turning his face toward the river, "must be a pike... And there's a little star falling." "No, I'll tell you something, brothers," Kostya began in a thin voice, "listen to what my father told me the other day when I was there." "Well, we're listening," said Fedya with a patronizing air. "You know Gavrila, the carpenter from the settlement?" "Yes, we know him." "And do you know why he's always so gloomy, always silent, you know? Here's why he's so gloomy. He went once—my father said—he went, my brothers, into the forest for nuts. So he went into the forest for nuts and got lost; he went—God knows where he went. He walked and walked, brothers—no! he can't find the road; and night had already come. So he sat down under a tree; 'I'll wait,' he thought, 'till morning'—sat down and dozed off. So he dozed off and suddenly hears someone calling him. He looks—nobody. He dozed off again—they call again. He looks again, looks: and before him on a branch sits a rusalka, swaying and calling him to her, and she's dying of laughter, laughing... And the moon was shining bright, so bright, the moon was shining clearly—everything, my brothers, was visible. So she's calling him, and she herself is all pale, all white sitting on the branch, like some little roach or minnow—or there's also carp that are whitish like that, silvery... Gavrila the carpenter froze, my brothers, but she just kept laughing and beckoning him with her hand. Gavrila was about to get up, about to obey the rusalka, my brothers, but—the Lord must have put the idea in his head: he made the sign of the cross over himself... And how hard it was for him to make that sign, my brothers; he said his hand was just like stone, wouldn't move... Oh, the devil, eh!.. So when he made the cross, my brothers, the rusalka stopped laughing, and suddenly started crying... She's crying, my brothers, wiping her eyes with her hair, and her hair is green, like real hemp. So Gavrila looked and looked at her, then started asking her: 'Why are you crying, forest devil?' And the rusalka says to him: 'If you hadn't crossed yourself, man, you would have lived with me in joy till the end of your days; and I'm crying, I'm grieving because you crossed yourself; but I won't be the only one grieving: grieve too till the end of your days.' Then she, my brothers, disappeared, and Gavrila immediately understood how to get out of the forest, that is, how to leave... But since then he always goes about gloomy." "Well!" said Fedya after a short silence, "but how can such a forest devil spoil a Christian soul—he didn't obey her, after all?" "There you have it!" said Kostya. "And Gavrila said that her voice, he said, was so thin, pitiful, like a toad's." "Did your father tell this himself?" continued Fedya. "Himself. I was lying on the sleeping shelf, heard everything." "Strange business! Why should he be gloomy?... Well, she must have liked him, since she called him." "Yes, liked him!" Ilyusha picked up. "Of course! She wanted to tickle him to death, that's what she wanted. That's their business, those rusalkas." "And there should be rusalkas here too," Fedya remarked. "No," answered Kostya, "this is a clean place, open. Except—the river is close." Everyone fell silent. Suddenly, somewhere in the distance, a long, ringing, almost moaning sound rang out, one of those inexplicable night sounds that sometimes arise in the midst of deep silence, rise up, hang in the air, and slowly spread at last, as if dying away. You listen—and it's as if there's nothing, but it rings. It seemed as if someone had cried out for a long, long time under the very horizon, as if someone else had answered him in the forest with thin, sharp laughter, and a weak, hissing whistle rushed along the river. The boys exchanged glances, shuddered... "The cross be with us!" whispered Ilya. "Hey, you crows!" shouted Pavel. "Why did you get scared? Look, the potatoes are cooked." (Everyone moved closer to the pot and began eating the steaming potatoes; only Vanya didn't move.) "What about you?" said Pavel. But he didn't come out from under his mat. The pot was soon emptied. "Have you heard, boys," Ilyusha began, "what happened the other day at our Varnavitsy?" "At the dam?" asked Fedya. "Yes, yes, at the dam, at the broken one. That's a cursed place, so cursed, and so wild. All around are ravines, gullies, and in the gullies all kinds of vipers (In Oryol dialect: snakes. Author's note.) live." "Well, what happened? Tell us..." "Here's what happened. Maybe you don't know, Fedya, but there's a drowned man buried there; and he drowned long, long ago, when the pond was still deep; but his grave is still visible, though barely visible: just a little mound... So the other day, the steward calls the dog-keeper Ermil; he says: 'Go,' he says, 'Ermil, to the post.' Ermil always goes to the post for us; he's killed all his dogs—they don't live with him for some reason, never have lived, but he's a good dog-keeper, has everything. So Ermil went for the post, and lingered in town, but when he's riding back he's already drunk. And it's night, and a bright night: the moon is shining... So Ermil is riding across the dam: that was his road. He's riding along like this, the dog-keeper Ermil, and sees: at the drowned man's grave a little lamb, white, curly, pretty, is walking. So Ermil thinks: 'I'll take it—why should it go to waste,' and he got down and picked it up... But the lamb—nothing. So Ermil goes to his horse, but the horse shies away from him, snorts, shakes its head; however, he calmed it down, mounted with the lamb and rode on again: holding the lamb in front of him. He looks at it, and the lamb looks him right in the eye. Ermil the dog-keeper got scared: 'I don't remember,' he thought, 'that rams look people in the eye like that'; but still, nothing; he started stroking its wool, saying: 'Baa, baa!' And the ram suddenly bares its teeth and says back to him: 'Baa, baa!..'" No sooner had the storyteller uttered this last word than suddenly both dogs rose at once, rushed away from the fire with convulsive barking, and disappeared into the darkness. All the boys were frightened. Vanya jumped out from under his mat. Pavlusha with a shout rushed after the dogs. Their barking quickly receded... The anxious running of the alarmed herd could be heard. Pavlusha was shouting loudly: "Grey! Beetle!.." In a few moments the barking ceased; Pavel's voice came already from afar... A little more time passed; the boys looked at each other in bewilderment, as if waiting to see what would happen... Suddenly the clatter of a galloping horse rang out; it stopped abruptly right at the fire, and, grabbing the mane, Pavlusha nimbly jumped off. Both dogs also leaped into the circle of light and immediately sat down, sticking out their red tongues. "What was it? What happened?" asked the boys. "Nothing," answered Pavel, waving his hand at the horse, "just something the dogs caught scent of. I thought it was a wolf," he added in an indifferent voice, breathing rapidly with his whole chest. I couldn't help but admire Pavlusha. He was very fine at that moment. His plain face, animated by the quick ride, glowed with bold daring and firm resolve. Without a switch in his hand, at night, he had galloped alone after a wolf without the slightest hesitation... "What a splendid boy!" I thought, looking at him. "Did you see them, the wolves?" asked the cowardly Kostya. "There are always many of them here," answered Pavel, "but they're only troublesome in winter." He settled down again before the fire. Sitting down on the ground, he let his hand fall on the shaggy nape of one of the dogs, and for a long time the delighted animal didn't turn its head, looking sideways at Pavlusha with grateful pride. Vanya buried himself under the mat again. "What terrible stories you were telling us, Ilyushka," Fedya began, who, as the son of a wealthy peasant, had to be the leader (though he himself spoke little, as if afraid of lowering his dignity). "And the devil made the dogs bark here... But it's true, I've heard that your place is cursed." "Varnavitsy?... Of course! How cursed it is! They say the old master—the late master—has been seen there more than once. They say he walks around in a long caftan and keeps groaning, looking for something on the ground. Once grandfather Trofimych met him: 'What,' he says, 'father Ivan Ivanovich, are you looking for on the ground?'" "He asked him?" interrupted the astonished Fedya. "Yes, he asked." "Well, Trofimych is brave after that... Well, and what did he say?" "'Bursting herb,' he says, 'I'm looking for.' And he spoke so hollowly, so hollowly: 'Bursting herb.' 'And what do you need bursting herb for, father Ivan Ivanovich?' 'The grave is pressing,' he says, 'Trofimych: I want out, out...'" "Well!" remarked Fedya, "he mustn't have lived long enough." "What a wonder!" said Kostya. "I thought you could only see the dead on Parents' Saturday." "You can see the dead at any hour," Ilyusha picked up with confidence, who, as far as I could tell, knew all the village superstitions best... "But on Parents' Saturday you can see the living one whose turn it is to die that year. You just have to sit on the church porch at night and keep looking at the road. Those who are to die that year will walk past you on the road. Last year our woman Ulyana went to the porch." "Well, and did she see anyone?" asked Kostya with curiosity. "Of course. First she sat for a long, long time, didn't see or hear anyone... only it seemed like a dog kept barking somewhere... Suddenly she looks: a boy is walking along the path in just a shirt. She looked closely—it was Ivashka Fedoseyev walking..." "The one who died in spring?" interrupted Fedya. "The very one. Walking and doesn't raise his head... And Ulyana recognized him... But then she looks: a woman is walking. She peered and peered—oh Lord!—she herself is walking on the road, Ulyana herself." "Really herself?" asked Fedya. "By God, herself." "Well what, she hasn't died yet?" "The year hasn't passed yet. But look at her: her soul is barely hanging on." Everyone fell silent again. Pavel threw a handful of dry twigs on the fire. They turned sharply black against the suddenly flaring flame, crackled, began smoking and curling, lifting their burnt ends. The reflection of light struck out in all directions with a fitful trembling, especially upward. Suddenly, out of nowhere, a white dove flew right into this reflection, circled fearfully in one spot, bathed all over in hot radiance, and disappeared, its wings ringing. "Must have strayed from home," remarked Pavel. "Now it will fly until it runs into something, and where it hits, there it will spend the night till dawn." "Well, Pavlusha," said Kostya, "wasn't that a righteous soul flying to heaven, eh?" Pavel threw another handful of twigs on the fire. "Maybe," he said at last. "Tell me, please, Pavlusha," Fedya began, "did you also see the heavenly portent in your Shalamovo?" (This is what peasants call a solar eclipse. Author's note.) "When the sun disappeared? Of course." "I bet you were frightened too?" "Not just us. Our master, even though he'd explained to us beforehand that there would be a portent, when it got dark, they say he got so scared himself, my goodness. And in the servants' hut the cook-woman, as soon as it got dark, hear this, she took the oven fork and smashed all the pots in the stove: 'Who's going to eat now,' she says, 'the end of the world has come.' So the cabbage soup poured out. And in our village such rumors went around, brother, that white wolves would run across the earth, would eat people, a bird of prey would fly, or they would even see Trishka himself." (The belief about "Trishka" probably echoes the legend of the antichrist. Author's note.) "What Trishka is that?" asked Kostya. "You don't know?" Ilyusha picked up warmly. "Well, brother, where are you from that you don't know about Trishka? They must be real stay-at-homes in your village, real stay-at-homes! Trishka—he will be such a wonderful man who will come; and he will come when the last times arrive. And he will be such a wonderful man that they won't be able to catch him, and they won't be able to do anything to him: he'll be such a wonderful man. For example, the peasants will want to catch him; they'll go after him with clubs, surround him, but he'll deceive their eyes—deceive them so that they'll beat each other. They'll put him in jail, for example—he'll ask for water to drink in a dipper: they'll bring him a dipper, and he'll dive into it and vanish without a trace. They'll put chains on him, but he'll just clap his hands—and they'll fall right off him. Well, and this Trishka will walk through villages and towns; and this Trishka, the cunning man, will tempt the Christian people... but they won't be able to do anything to him... He'll be such a wonderful, cunning man." "Well yes," Pavel continued in his unhurried voice, "that's who. That's who they were waiting for at our place. The old people said that as soon as the heavenly portent begins, Trishka will come. So the portent began. All the people poured out into the street, into the field, waiting to see what would happen. And our place, you know, is open, spacious. They look—suddenly from the settlement, down the hill, some man is coming, such a strange one, with such a wonderful head... Everyone started shouting: 'Oh, Trishka's coming! Oh, Trishka's coming!'—and scattered in all directions! Our elder dove into a ditch; the elder's wife got stuck in the gateway, screaming bloody murder, scared her own yard dog so much that it broke the chain, over the fence, and into the forest; and Kuzka's father, Dorofeich, jumped into the oats, squatted down, and started calling like a quail: 'Maybe,' he said, 'the enemy, the murderer, will at least spare a bird.' That's how frightened everyone got!.. But the man was our cooper, Vavila: he'd bought himself a new tub and put the empty tub on his head." All the boys laughed and again fell silent for a moment, as often happens with people talking in the open air. I looked around: night stood solemn and majestic; the damp freshness of late evening had been replaced by midnight's dry warmth, and it would lie like a soft canopy over the sleeping fields for a long time yet; much time remained before the first babble, before the first rustlings and whispers of morning, before the first dewdrops of dawn. There was no moon in the sky: it rose late at that time. Countless golden stars seemed to flow quietly, all twinkling in rivalry, in the direction of the Milky Way, and truly, looking at them, you seemed to feel vaguely yourself the swift, ceaseless motion of the earth... A strange, harsh, sickly cry rang out suddenly twice in succession over the river and, after a few moments, repeated farther away... Kostya shuddered. "What was that?" "That's a heron crying," Pavel answered calmly. "A heron," Kostya repeated... "But what was it, Pavlusha, that I heard yesterday evening," he added after a brief pause, "maybe you know..." "What did you hear?" "Here's what I heard. I was walking from Stone Ridge to Shashkino; and I walked first through our hazel grove, then went through a meadow—you know, where it comes out in a sharp bend (A sharp bend in a ravine. Author's note.)—there's a deep hole there (A deep hole with spring water left from the flood, which doesn't dry up even in summer. Author's note.); you know, it's all overgrown with reeds; so I was walking past this hole, my brothers, and suddenly from that hole someone started moaning, and so pitifully, so pitifully: oo-oo... oo-oo... oo-oo! Such fear seized me, my brothers: it was late, and the voice was so sickly. I felt like crying myself... What could it have been? Eh?" "Last year thieves drowned Akim the forester in that hole," Pavel remarked, "so maybe it was his soul complaining." "Well, that could be it, my brothers," Kostya replied, widening his already enormous eyes... "I didn't know that Akim was drowned in that hole: I would have been even more frightened." "And they say there are such tiny frogs," Pavel continued, "that cry so pitifully." "Frogs? Well, no, those weren't frogs... what kind of... (The heron cried again over the river.) There it is!" Kostya said involuntarily, "just like a wood-demon crying." "A wood-demon doesn't cry, he's mute," Ilyusha picked up, "he only claps his hands and rattles..." "Have you seen him, the wood-demon?" Fedya interrupted him mockingly. "No, I haven't seen him, and God preserve me from seeing him; but others have seen him. Just the other day he led one of our peasants astray: led him and led him through the forest, kept circling around one clearing... He barely made it home by daybreak." "Well, did he see him?" "He saw him. He says he stood there big, big, dark, muffled up, like behind a tree, you couldn't make him out properly, like hiding from the moon, and he looks, looks with those huge eyes, blinks them, blinks..." "Oh!" exclaimed Fedya, shuddering slightly and twitching his shoulders, "pfoo!.." "And why has such filth spread in the world?" remarked Pavel. "I really don't understand!" "Don't curse, watch out, he'll hear," Ilya noted. Silence fell again. "Look, look, boys," Vanya's childish voice suddenly rang out, "look at God's little stars—like bees swarming!" He stuck his fresh little face out from under the mat, propped himself on his fist, and slowly raised his large, quiet eyes upward. The eyes of all the boys rose to the sky and didn't lower soon. "Well, Vanya," Fedya said tenderly, "how is your sister Anyutka, is she well?" "Well," answered Vanya with a slight lisp. "Tell her—why doesn't she come to see us?..." "I don't know." "Tell her to come." "I'll tell her." "Tell her I'll give her a treat." "And will you give me one?" "I'll give you one too." Vanya sighed. "Well, no, I don't need one. Give it to her instead: she's so kind." And Vanya laid his head on the ground again. Pavel stood up and took the empty pot in his hand. "Where are you going?" Fedya asked him. "To the river, to get some water: I want a drink." The dogs got up and followed him. "Watch you don't fall in the river!" Ilyusha called after him. "Why would he fall?" said Fedya, "he'll be careful." "Yes, he'll be careful. Anything can happen: he'll lean over, start scooping water, and the water-spirit will grab him by the hand and drag him down. Then they'll say: the boy fell into the water, they'll say... What do you mean fell?.. There, he went into the reeds," he added, listening. The reeds were indeed "rustling," as we say, parting. "Is it true," asked Kostya, "that Akulina the fool has been crazy since she was in the water?" "Since then... Look at her now! But they say she used to be a beauty. The water-spirit ruined her. Must not have expected them to pull her out so soon. So he ruined her there at the bottom." (I myself have met this Akulina more than once. Covered in rags, terribly thin, with a face black as coal, a clouded gaze, and eternally bared teeth, she stamps for hours in one spot, somewhere on the road, pressing her bony hands tightly to her chest and slowly swaying from foot to foot, like a wild beast in a cage. She understands nothing, whatever you say to her, and only occasionally laughs convulsively.) "And they say," Kostya continued, "that Akulina threw herself in the river because her lover deceived her." "That's exactly why." "And do you remember Vasya?" Kostya added sadly. "What Vasya?" asked Fedya. "The one who drowned," answered Kostya, "in this very river. Oh, what a boy he was! my, what a boy! His mother, Feklista, how she loved him, Vasya! And it was as if she sensed, Feklista did, that death would come to him from water. Sometimes Vasya would go with us boys in summer to swim in the river—she would be all in a flutter. Other women don't care, they walk by with their washtubs, waddling along, but Feklista would set her tub on the ground and start calling him: 'Come back,' she'd say, 'come back, my light! oh come back, my falcon!' And how he drowned, the Lord knows. He was playing on the bank, and his mother was right there, raking hay; suddenly she hears, as if someone was blowing bubbles in the water—she looks, and only Vasya's little cap is floating on the water. You know, since then Feklista hasn't been in her right mind: she'll come and lie down in the place where he drowned; she'll lie down, my brothers, and start singing a song—remember, Vasya used to sing that song all the time—so she'll start singing it, and she cries, cries, bitterly complains to God..." "Here comes Pavlusha," said Fedya. Pavel approached the fire with the full pot in his hand. "Well, boys," he began after a pause, "something's wrong." "What?" Kostya asked hurriedly. "I heard Vasya's voice." Everyone shuddered. "What do you mean, what do you mean?" Kostya stammered. "By God. I'd just bent down to the water when I suddenly heard someone calling me in Vasya's voice, and as if from under the water: 'Pavlusha, oh Pavlusha!' I listened; and he called again: 'Pavlusha, come here.' I stepped away. But I got the water anyway." "Oh Lord! Oh Lord!" the boys said, crossing themselves. "That was the water-spirit calling you, Pavel," Fedya added... "And we were just talking about him, about Vasya." "Oh, that's a bad omen," Ilyusha said deliberately. "Well, never mind, let it be!" Pavel said decisively and sat down again, "you can't escape your fate." The boys quieted down. It was clear that Pavel's words had made a deep impression on them. They began settling down before the fire, as if preparing to sleep. "What was that?" Kostya suddenly asked, raising his head. Pavel listened. "Those are sandpipers flying, whistling." "Where are they flying?" "To where, they say, there is no winter." "Is there really such a land?" "There is." "Far away?" "Far, far away, beyond the warm seas." Kostya sighed and closed his eyes. More than three hours had passed since I had joined the boys. The moon finally rose; I didn't notice it right away: it was so small and narrow. This moonless night seemed still as magnificent as before... But already many stars that had recently stood high in the sky had inclined toward the dark edge of the earth; everything had completely quieted around, as everything usually quiets only toward morning: everything slept a deep, motionless, pre-dawn sleep. The air no longer smelled so strong—dampness seemed to spread through it again... Short are the summer nights!.. The boys' conversation died down along with the fires... Even the dogs were dozing; the horses, as far as I could make out in the faintly glimmering, weakly flowing starlight, also lay with lowered heads... Sweet oblivion came over me; it passed into drowsiness. A fresh stream ran across my face. I opened my eyes: morning was beginning. Nowhere yet did the dawn blush, but it had already whitened in the east. Everything became visible, though dimly visible, around. The pale gray sky lightened, grew cold, turned blue; the stars either blinked with weak light or disappeared; the earth grew damp, leaves became covered with dew, here and there living sounds and voices began to be heard, and a thin, early breeze was already wandering and fluttering over the earth. My body answered it with a light, cheerful shiver. I rose briskly and approached the boys. They were all sleeping like the dead around the smoldering fire; only Pavel half-rose and looked at me intently. I nodded to him and went on my way along the smoking river. I hadn't gone two versts when streams of light poured all around me—over the wide wet meadow, and ahead over the greening hills from forest to forest, and behind along the long dusty road, over the sparkling, crimsoned bushes, and over the river shyly turning blue from under the thinning mist—first crimson, then red, golden streams of young, hot light poured forth... Everything stirred, awoke, began singing, rustling, speaking. Everywhere large drops of dew blazed with radiant diamonds; toward me, pure and clear, as if also washed by the morning coolness, came the sounds of a bell, and suddenly past me, driven by the familiar boys, rushed the rested herd... I must add with regret that Pavel died that same year. He didn't drown: he was killed falling from a horse. A pity, he was a splendid boy! Biryuk (From the cycle "A Sportsman's Sketches")