来自：A Sportsman's Sketches
"But do you go to the factory?"
"Why yes, we do. My brother Avdyushka and I work as glossers." {"Glossers" smooth and scrape paper. (Note by I.S. Turgenev.)}
"Well, I'll be—factory workers!..."
"Well, so how did you hear it?" asked Fedya.
"Here's how. My brother Avdyushka and I happened to be there, and Fyodor Mikheyevsky, and Ivashka the Cross-eyed, and another Ivashka from Krasnye Kholmy, and Ivashka Sukhorukov too, and there were other boys there as well; there were about ten of us boys in all—the whole shift; and we had to spend the night in the rolling room, that is, not exactly that we had to, but Nazarov, the overseer, forbade us; he says: 'What's the point of you boys trudging home; there's lots of work tomorrow, so you boys don't go home.' So we stayed and lay down all together, and Avdyushka started saying, 'Well, boys, what if the house spirit comes?'... And no sooner had he, Avdey that is, said this, than suddenly someone started walking above our heads; but we were lying below, and he was walking upstairs, by the wheel. We hear him walking, and the boards under him are bending and creaking; then he passed over our heads; the water suddenly started rushing, rushing over the wheel; the wheel started knocking, knocking, and turning; but the gates at the sluice {"Sluice" is what we call the place where water runs onto the wheel. (Note by I.S. Turgenev.)} were lowered. We wondered: who raised them to let the water through; but the wheel turned, turned, and stopped. Then that one went to the door upstairs and started coming down the stairs, and you could hear he wasn't hurrying; the steps under him were positively groaning... Well, that one came up to our door, waited, waited—the door suddenly flung wide open. We were frightened, we looked—nothing... Suddenly, look, at one vat the mold {The sieve with which paper is scooped. (Note by I.S. Turgenev.)} started moving, lifted up, dipped down, moved about, moved about in the air, as if someone was rinsing it, and then back in its place. Then at another vat a hook came off its nail and back on the nail; then it was as if someone went to the door and suddenly started coughing, choking, like some sheep, and so loudly... We all just fell in a heap, crawling under each other... How frightened we were at that time!"
"Well, I never!" said Pavel. "Why did he start coughing?"
"I don't know; maybe from the dampness."
They all fell silent.
"What, 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, a little star fell."
"No, but I'll tell you something, brothers," began Kostya in a thin voice, "listen, the other day what my father told me when I was there."
"Well, we're listening," said Fedya with a patronizing air.
"You know Gavrila, the village carpenter, don't you?"
"Well yes; we know him."
"And do you know why he's always so glum, always silent, you know? Here's why he's so glum. He went once, my father was saying,—he went, my brothers, to the forest for nuts. So he went to the forest for nuts, and got lost; he went—God knows where he went. He walked and walked, my brothers,—no! he couldn't find the way; and night had already fallen. So he sat down under a tree; 'I'll wait,' he says, 'till morning,'—he sat down and dozed off. So he dozed off and suddenly hears someone calling him. He looks—nobody. He dozed off again—again they're calling. He looks again: and there 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 brightly, so brightly, clearly shining, the moon—everything was visible, my brothers. So she's calling him, and she herself is all bright, whitish sitting on the branch, like some dace or gudgeon,—or else there's carp that are like that, whitish, silvery... Gavrila the carpenter froze stiff, my brothers, but she just kept laughing and beckoning him to her with her hand. Then Gavrila was about to get up, was about to obey the rusalka, my brothers, but—it must be the Lord put it in his mind: he made the sign of the cross over himself... And how hard it was for him to make that sign of the cross, my brothers; he says his hand was just like stone, wouldn't move... Ah, the devil!.. So when he made the cross, my brothers, the rusalka stopped laughing, and suddenly started crying... She cries, my brothers, wiping her eyes with her hair, and her hair is green, like hemp. So Gavrila looked and looked at her, and started asking her: 'What are you crying for, forest devil?' And the rusalka speaks 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 cry, I grieve because you crossed yourself; but I won't grieve alone: you grieve too till the end of your days.' Then, my brothers, she vanished, and Gavrila immediately understood how to get out of the forest, that is... But since then he goes about always gloomy."
"Well!" said Fedya after a brief silence, "but how can such forest uncleanness ruin a Christian soul—he didn't obey her, did he?"
"And there you have it!" said Kostya. "And Gavrila said that her voice, he says, was so thin, pitiful, like a toad's."
"Did your father tell this himself?" continued Fedya.
"Himself. I was lying on the sleeping bench, heard everything."
"A strange thing! Why should he be gloomy?... But I guess she liked him, since she called him."
"Yes, liked him!" picked up Ilyusha. "I should say! She wanted to tickle him to death, that's what she wanted. That's their business, those rusalkas."
"And I suppose there must be rusalkas here too," remarked Fedya.
"No," answered Kostya, "this is a clean place, open. Only—the river's close."
Everyone fell silent. Suddenly, somewhere in the distance, there rang out a long, resonant, almost moaning sound, one of those incomprehensible 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 responded to him in the forest with thin, sharp laughter, and a weak, hissing whistle swept along the river. The boys exchanged glances, shuddered...
"Christ be with us!" whispered Ilya.
"Eh, you crows!" cried Pavel. "What are you scared of? Look, the potatoes are cooked." (Everyone moved closer to the pot and began eating the steaming potatoes; only Vanya didn't stir.) "What about you?" said Pavel.
But he didn't come out from under his mat. The pot was soon completely emptied.
"Did you hear, boys," began Ilyusha, "what happened the other day at our Varnavitsy?"
"At the dam?" asked Fedya.
"Yes, yes, at the dam, the broken one. That's an unclean place, so unclean, and so desolate. All around are ravines, gullies, and in the gullies snakes {In Oryol dialect: serpents. (Note by I.S. Turgenev.)} live."
"Well, what happened? Tell us..."
"Here's what happened. Maybe you don't know, Fedya, but a drowned man is buried there; and he drowned a long, long time ago, when the pond was still deep; but his grave is still visible, though barely: just a little mound... So, the other day, the steward calls the dog-keeper Ermil; says: 'Go, he says, to the post office, Ermil.' Ermil always goes to the post office for us; he's killed all his dogs somehow: they don't live with him for some reason, never have lived, but he's a good dog-keeper, took after everyone. So Ermil went for the post, and lingered in town, but was already drunk when he rode back. And it was night, and a bright night: the moon was shining... So Ermil is riding across the dam: that was the way his road went. He's riding along like this, dog-keeper Ermil, and sees: on the drowned man's grave a little lamb, white, curly, pretty, is walking about. So Ermil thinks: 'I'll take it,—why should it go to waste,' and he got down and took it in his arms... But the lamb—didn't mind. So Ermil goes to his horse, and the horse shies away from him, snorts, shakes its head; however he calmed it down, got on it with the lamb and rode on again: holding the lamb in front of him. He looks at it, and the lamb looks him straight in the eyes. Ermil the dog-keeper got uneasy: 'I don't remember,' he thinks, 'that rams look people in the eyes like that'; but never mind; he started stroking it like this on the wool,—says: '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 jumped up 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 cry rushed after the dogs. Their barking quickly receded... The anxious running of the startled herd was heard. Pavlusha shouted loudly: "Gray! Zhuchka!.." In a few moments the barking ceased; Pavel's voice came from far away now... A little more time passed; the boys exchanged puzzled glances, as if waiting to see what would happen... Suddenly the thud of a galloping horse was heard; it stopped short right at the fire, and, clutching the mane, Pavlusha nimbly jumped off. Both dogs also jumped into the circle of light and immediately sat down, hanging out their red tongues.
"What was it? What happened?" asked the boys.
"Nothing," answered Pavel, waving his hand at the horse, "the dogs must have scented something. I thought it was a wolf," he added in an indifferent voice, breathing quickly with his whole chest.
I involuntarily admired Pavlusha. He was very fine at that moment. His homely face, animated by the quick ride, glowed with bold daring and firm resolve. Without even 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 timid Kostya.
"There are always lots of them here," answered Pavel, "but they're troublesome only in winter."
He settled down again before the fire. Sitting 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, gazing sideways at Pavlusha with grateful pride.
Vanya burrowed under his mat again.
"What scary stories you were telling us, Ilyushka," began Fedya, who, as the son of a wealthy peasant, had to be the leader (though he himself said little, as if afraid of lowering his dignity). "And then the devil made the dogs start barking... But it's true, I've heard that place of yours is unclean."
"Varnavitsy?... I should say! very unclean! They say the old master has been seen there many times—the deceased master. They say he walks in a long-skirted caftan and keeps groaning like this, looking for something on the ground. Once grandfather Trofimych met him: 'What, he says, father, Ivan Ivanovich, are you pleased to be looking for on the ground?'"
"He asked him?" interrupted the astonished Fedya.
"Yes, he asked."
"Well, Trofimych was brave after that... Well, and what did he say?"
"'Explosive herb,' he says, 'I'm looking for.' And in such a hollow voice, so hollow: 'Explosive herb.' 'And what do you need explosive herb for, father Ivan Ivanovich?' 'The grave presses, Trofimych,' he says: 'it presses: I want to get out, out...'"
"Well, I never!" remarked Fedya, "didn't live long enough, I guess."
"What a wonder!" said Kostya. "I thought you could only see the dead on Parents' Saturday."
"You can see the dead any time," Ilyusha picked up with assurance, who, as far as I could tell, knew all the village superstitions better than the others... "But on Parents' Saturday you can also see the living person 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 will pass by you on the road who are to die that year. Last year old woman Ulyana went to the porch."
"Well, and did she see anyone?" asked Kostya with curiosity.
"I should say. First she sat for a long, long time, didn't see or hear anyone... only it kept seeming like a little dog was barking, barking somewhere... Suddenly she looks: a boy is walking along the path in just a shirt. She took a closer look—Ivashka Fedoseyev was walking..."
"The one who died in spring?" interrupted Fedya.
"The very one. Walking and not raising his head... And Ulyana recognized him... But then she looks: a woman is walking. She peered and peered,—oh Lord!—she herself was walking on the road, Ulyana herself."
"Really herself?" asked Fedya.
"By God, herself."
"Well what of it, she hasn't died yet, has she?"
"But the year hasn't passed yet. Just look at her: barely alive."
Everyone fell silent again. Pavel threw a handful of dry twigs on the fire. They stood out sharply black against the suddenly flaring flame, crackled, smoked and began to warp, lifting their scorched ends. The reflection of the light struck out, trembling jerkily, in all directions, especially upward. Suddenly, out of nowhere, a white dove flew right into this reflection, circled fearfully in one place, all bathed in hot radiance, and disappeared, its wings ringing.
"Must have strayed from home," remarked Pavel. "Now it'll fly till it hits something, and wherever it strikes, there it'll 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.
"But tell me, please, Pavlusha," began Fedya, "did you also see the heavenly portent in your Shalamovo?" {This is what the peasants call a solar eclipse in our parts. (Note by I.S. Turgenev.)}
"When the sun disappeared? I should say."
"I suppose you were frightened too?"
"Not just us. Our master, though he explained to us beforehand that, they say, there'll be a portent for you, but when it got dark, he himself, they say, got so scared you wouldn't believe. And in the servants' cottage the cook-woman, as soon as it got dark, listen to this, she up and smashed all the pots in the stove with the oven fork: 'Who's going to eat now,' she says, 'the end of the world has come.' So the cabbage soup all ran out. And in our village such rumors were going around, brother, that white wolves would run over the earth, would eat people, a bird of prey would fly, or they'd even see Trishka himself." {The belief about "Trishka" probably echoes the legend of the Antichrist. (Note by I.S. Turgenev.)}
"What's this Trishka?" asked Kostya.
"You don't know?" Ilyusha picked up eagerly. "Well, brother, where are you from that you don't know about Trishka? They really are stay-at-homes in your village, real stay-at-homes! Trishka—he'll be such a marvelous man, who'll come; and he'll come when the last times arrive. And he'll be such a marvelous man that you won't be able to catch him, and you won't be able to do anything to him: he'll be such a marvelous man. The peasants will want, for instance, to catch him; they'll come out at him with clubs, surround him, but he'll deceive their eyes—deceive their eyes so that they'll beat each other instead. They'll put him in prison, for instance,—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 clap his hands—and they'll just fall off him. Well, and this Trishka will go around the villages and towns; and this Trishka, the crafty man, will tempt the Christian people... but there'll be nothing you can do to him... He'll be such a marvelous, crafty man."
"Well yes," Pavel continued in his unhurried voice, "that's the one. That's who they were expecting at our place. The old men 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 at our place, you know, it's open country, spacious. They look—suddenly from the settlement down the hill comes some kind of man, such a strange one, such a marvelous head... Everyone screamed: 'Oh, Trishka's coming! Oh, Trishka's coming!'—and scattered every which way! Our elder crawled 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 off its 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 says, 'the enemy, the destroyer, will at least spare a bird.'—That's how upset everyone got!.. But the man walking there was our cooper, Vavila: he'd bought himself a new vat and put the empty vat on his head."
All the boys laughed and then fell silent again for a moment, as often happens with people conversing in the open air. I looked around: night stood solemn and majestic; the damp freshness of late evening had given way to midnight's dry warmth, and it would lie like a soft blanket over the sleeping fields for a long time yet; much time remained till the first babbling, the first rustlings and whisperings of morning, till the first dewdrops of dawn. There was no moon in the sky: at that time it rose late. Countless golden stars seemed to flow quietly, all vying with each other in their twinkling, in the direction of the Milky Way, and truly, looking at them, you seemed to feel dimly yourself the headlong, ceaseless running of the earth...
A strange, sharp, painful cry rang out suddenly twice in succession over the river and, after a few moments, was repeated farther off...
Kostya shuddered. "What's that?"
"That's a heron crying," Pavel answered calmly.
"A heron," repeated Kostya... "But what was it, Pavlusha, that I heard yesterday evening," he added, after pausing a little, "maybe you know..."
"What did you hear?"
"Here's what I heard. I was walking from Kamennaya Gryada to Shashkino; and I walked first through our hazel grove, and then went through a meadow—you know, where it comes out at a sharp bend {A sharp bend in a ravine. (Note by I.S. Turgenev.)},—there's a deep spring hole there {A deep pit with spring water left from the flood, which doesn't dry up even in summer. (Note by I.S. Turgenev.))}; you know, it's all overgrown with reeds; so I was walking past this spring hole, my brothers, and suddenly from that spring hole someone started moaning, and so pitifully, pitifully: oo-oo... oo-oo... oo-oo! Such fear took hold of me, my brothers: it was late, and the voice was so sickly. I felt I could cry myself... What could that have been? Eh?"
"In that spring hole thieves drowned Akim the forester the year before last," remarked Pavel, "so maybe it was his soul complaining."
"Well, that might be it, my brothers," answered Kostya, widening his already enormous eyes... "I didn't know that Akim was drowned in that spring hole: I would have been even more frightened."
"And then they say there are such tiny frogs," Pavel continued, "that cry so pitifully."
"Frogs? Well, no, that wasn't frogs... what frogs..." (The heron cried out again over the river.) "Damn it!" Kostya said involuntarily, "screaming like a wood-demon."
"The wood-demon doesn't scream, he's mute," picked up Ilyusha, "he only claps his hands and rattles..."
"And have you seen him, the wood-demon?" Fedya interrupted him mockingly.
"No, I haven't seen him, and God save me from seeing him; but others have seen him. Just the other day he led one of our peasants astray: led him, led him through the forest, and all around one clearing... He barely made it home by daylight."
"Well, and did he see him?"
"He saw him. Says he stood there big, big, dark, muffled up, like behind a tree, you couldn't make him out clearly, like hiding from the moon, and stares, stares with those huge eyes, blinks them, blinks..."
"Oh!" exclaimed Fedya, shuddering slightly and twitching his shoulders, "ugh!.."
"And why has this filth bred in the world?" remarked Pavel. "I don't understand, really!"
"Don't curse, watch out, he'll hear you," remarked Ilya.
Silence fell again.
"Look, look, boys," Vanya's childish voice suddenly rang out, "look at God's little stars—swarming like bees!"
He stuck out his fresh little face 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 for some time.
"Well, Vanya," Fedya began tenderly, "how is your sister Anyutka, is she well?"
"She's well," answered Vanya, lisping slightly.
"You tell her—why doesn't she come to see us?"
"I don't know."
"You tell her to come."
"I will."
"You tell her I'll give her a present."
"And will you give me one?"
"I'll give you one too."
Vanya sighed.
"Well, no, I don't need one. Better give it to her: she's so kind, our Anyutka."
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 should he fall?" said Fedya, "he'll be careful."
"Yes, he'll be careful. But all sorts of things happen: he'll bend down, start scooping water, and the water-spirit will grab him by the hand and drag him down. Then they'll say: the boy fell, they say, into the water... What kind of fell?.. There, he's gone into the reeds," he added, listening.
The reeds were indeed "rustling," as we say, parting.
"But is it true," asked Kostya, "that Akulina the fool-woman went mad after she was in the water?"
"After that... What she's like now! But they say she was a beauty before. The water-spirit ruined her. Must not have expected they'd pull her out so soon. So he ruined her there, at the bottom."
(I myself met this Akulina more than once. Covered in rags, terribly thin, with a face black as coal, clouded gaze and eternally bared teeth, she tramples for hours in the same place, somewhere on the road, pressing her bony hands tightly to her chest and slowly swaying from foot to foot, like a wild animal in a cage. She understands nothing, whatever you say to her, and only laughs convulsively from time to time.)
"But they say," Kostya continued, "that Akulina threw herself in the river because her lover deceived her."
"That's just it."
"And do you remember Vasya?" Kostya added sadly.
"What Vasya?" asked Fedya.
"The one who drowned," answered Kostya, "in this very river. What a boy he was! oh, what a boy! And his mother, Feklista, how she loved him, her 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'd be all of a tremble. The other women don't care, they walk past with their washtubs, waddling along, but Feklista would set her washtub on the ground and start calling him: 'Come back,' she'd say, 'come back, my darling! oh, come back, my falcon!' And how he drowned, the Lord only knows. He was playing on the bank, and his mother was right there, raking hay; suddenly she hears, as if someone's making 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 a song,—you remember, Vasya always sang such a song,—so she'll start that very song, and she'll cry, cry, bitterly complain 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 started.
"What do you mean, what?" stammered Kostya.
"By God. I'd just bent down to the water when suddenly I hear someone calling me in Vasya's voice and like from under the water: 'Pavlusha, oh Pavlusha!' I listen; and he calls again: 'Pavlusha, come here.' I moved away. But I got some water anyway."
"Oh Lord! Oh Lord!" said the boys, crossing themselves.
"That was the water-spirit calling you, Pavel," added Fedya... "And we were just talking about him, about Vasya."
"Oh, that's a bad omen," said Ilyusha deliberately.
"Well, never mind, let it be!" said Pavel decisively and sat down again, "you can't escape your fate."
The boys grew quiet. It was clear that Pavel's words had made a deep impression on them. They began to settle down before the fire, as if preparing to sleep.
"What's that?" Kostya suddenly asked, raising his head.
Pavel listened.
"Those are sandpipers flying, whistling."
"Where are they flying?"
"To where, they say, there's no winter."
"And is there 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 joined the boys. The moon finally rose; I didn't notice it right away: it was so small and narrow. This moonless night seemed to be just as magnificent as before... But already many stars that had recently stood high in the sky were inclining toward the dark edge of the earth; everything had grown completely still all around, as everything usually grows still 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 was dying out along with the fires... Even the dogs were dozing; the horses, as far as I could make out in the faintly glimmering, weakly pouring starlight, were also lying 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. The dawn wasn't blushing anywhere yet, but it was already growing white in the east. Everything became visible, though dimly visible, all around. The pale gray sky was growing light, cold, blue; the stars now twinkled with weak light, now disappeared; the earth grew damp, leaves became covered with dew, living sounds and voices began to be heard here and there, and a thin, early breeze was already wandering and fluttering over the earth. My body responded to it with a light, cheerful shiver. I got up briskly and went to 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 walked homeward along the smoking river. Before I had gone two versts, streams were already pouring all around me across 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 along the river, turning shyly blue through the thinning mist,—streams poured first scarlet, then red, golden torrents of young, hot light... Everything stirred, awoke, began singing, rustling, speaking. Everywhere large drops of dew blazed like 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 fine lad!
Biryuk
(From the cycle "A Sportsman's Sketches")