第69章 共80章

"No, more cheese... See, it splashed," he added, turning his face toward the river, "must be a pike... And there's a shooting star."

"No, I'll tell you something, brothers," Kostya began in a thin voice, "listen, the other day my father told me this story, and 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 cheerless, always silent, you know? Here's why he's so cheerless. 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 wandered—God knows where he wandered. He walked and walked, my brothers—no! He can't find the road; 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—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 with laughter, laughing... And the moon was shining strongly, so strongly, clearly the moon was shining—everything, my brothers, was visible. So she calls him, and she herself sits there all bright, all white on the branch, like some roach or minnow—or there's also carp that are so whitish, silvery... Gavrila the carpenter just froze, my brothers, but she keeps laughing and calling him to her with her hand. Gavrila was about to get up, was about to obey the rusalka, my brothers, but, it seems, the Lord prompted him: 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 simply like stone, wouldn't move... Oh, you devil!.. So when he made the sign of the cross, my brothers, the rusalka stopped laughing, and suddenly she started crying... She's crying, my brothers, wiping her eyes with her hair, and her hair is green, like hemp. So Gavrila looked and looked at her, and then began to ask her: 'Why are you crying, forest creature?' And the rusalka says to him: 'If you hadn't crossed yourself, man, you would have lived with me in merriment till the end of your days; but I'm crying, I'm grieving because you crossed yourself; but not I alone will grieve: grieve too until the end of your days.' Then she, my brothers, disappeared, and Gavrila immediately understood how to get out of the forest... But since then he always goes about cheerless."

"Well!" said Fedya after a brief silence, "but how can such forest uncleanness ruin a Christian soul—he didn't obey her?"

"That's just 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 platform, I heard everything."

"A strange thing! Why should he be cheerless?... Well, it seems he pleased her, since she called him."

"Yes, pleased her!" picked up Ilyusha. "How so! She wanted to tickle him to death, that's what she wanted. That's their business, these rusalkas."

"But surely there must be rusalkas here too," remarked Fedya.

"No," answered Kostya, "here it's a clean place, open. Only—the river is close."

Everyone fell silent. Suddenly, somewhere in the distance, there rang out a prolonged, ringing, almost moaning sound, one of those incomprehensible night sounds which sometimes arise amid 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. "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 move.) "What's wrong with you?" said Pavel.

But he didn't come out from under his mat. The pot was soon completely emptied.

"And did you hear, 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 an unclean place, so unclean, and so desolate. All around are ravines, gullies, and in the gullies snakes live."

"Well, what happened? Tell us..."

"And here's what happened. You, Fedya, maybe don't know, 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; says: 'Go,' he says, 'Ermil, to the post office.' Ermil always goes to the post office for us; all his dogs died on him: they don't live with him for some reason, they just never lived, but he's a good dog-keeper, took everything. So Ermil went for the post, but he lingered in town, and when he was riding back he was already tipsy. And it was night, and a bright night: the moon was shining... So Ermil is riding across the dam: that was his road. So he's riding along, this dog-keeper Ermil, and he sees: at the drowned man's grave a lamb, white, curly, pretty, is walking about. So Ermil thinks: 'I'll take him—why should he go to waste,' and he got down and took him in his arms... But the lamb—nothing. So Ermil goes to the horse, and the horse shies away from him, snorts, shakes its head; however, he calmed her down, sat on her with the lamb and rode on again: he holds the lamb in front of him. He looks at it, and the lamb looks him straight in the eyes. Ermil the dog-keeper felt uneasy: 'I don't remember,' he says, 'rams looking people in the eyes like that'; however, nothing; he began to stroke its wool, says: 'Baa, baa!' And the ram suddenly bares its teeth, and says to him too: 'Baa, baa!..'"

The storyteller had barely uttered this last word when 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 shouted loudly: "Gray! Zhuchka!.." In a few moments the barking stopped; Pavel's voice came already from afar... A little more time passed; the boys exchanged puzzled glances, as if waiting to see what would happen... Suddenly the tramp of a galloping horse rang out; it stopped sharply right at the fire, and, clutching the mane, Pavel nimbly jumped off it. Both dogs also jumped into the circle of light and immediately sat down, their red tongues hanging out.

"What was it? What happened?" asked the boys.

"Nothing," answered Pavel, waving his hand at the horse, "just something the dogs scented. I thought it was a wolf," he added in an indifferent voice, breathing rapidly with his whole chest.

I involuntarily admired Pavlusha. He was very handsome at that moment. His plain face, animated by the swift ride, glowed with bold daring and firm resolve. Without a stick 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.

"And did you see them, the wolves?" asked the timid 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 on the ground, he dropped his hand on the shaggy nape of one of the dogs, and for a long time the delighted animal didn't turn its head, glancing sideways at Pavlusha with grateful pride.

Vanya again burrowed under the mat.

"And 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 spoke little, as if afraid of lowering his dignity). "And the evil one made the dogs start barking... But truly, I've heard that place is unclean around you."

"Varnavitsy?... I should say so! What an unclean place! They say the old master has been seen there many times—the late 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 looking for on the ground?'"

"He asked him?" interrupted the astonished Fedya.

"Yes, asked him."

"Well, Trofimych is a brave one after that... Well, and what did he say?"

"'Razryv-grass,' he says, 'I'm looking for.' And he spoke in such a hollow voice, hollow: 'Razryv-grass.' 'And what do you need, father Ivan Ivanovich, razryv-grass for?' 'The grave,' he says, 'is crushing me, Trofimych: I want out, out...'"

"Well, there's something!" remarked Fedya, "he must not 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 assurance, for as far as I could tell, he knew all the village superstitions better than the others... "But on Parents' Saturday you can see the living person who is next in line to die that year. You just have to sit at night on the church porch and keep looking at the road. Those who are to die that year will pass by 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 was like a little dog kept barking somewhere, barking... Suddenly she looks: a boy is walking along the path in just a shirt. She looked closer—it was Ivashka Fedoseev walking..."

"The one who died in spring?" interrupted Fedya.

"The very same. Walking and not raising his little 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 of it, she hasn't died yet?"

"But the year hasn't passed yet. And you look at her: what's keeping her soul in her body."

Everyone fell silent again. Pavel threw a handful of dry branches on the fire. They stood out sharply black against the suddenly flaring flame, crackled, began to smoke and warp, raising their burned ends. The reflection of light struck out, trembling fitfully, in all directions, especially upward. Suddenly, out of nowhere, a white dove flew in—right into this reflection, turned fearfully in one spot, all bathed in the hot glow, and disappeared, its wings ringing.

"Must have strayed from home," remarked Pavel. "Now it will fly until it bumps into something, and where it bumps, there it will spend the night till dawn."

"Tell me, Pavlusha," said Kostya, "wasn't that a righteous soul flying to heaven, eh?"

Pavel threw another handful of branches on the fire.

"Maybe," he said at last.

"And tell me, please, Pavlusha," Fedya began, "did you also see the heavenly portent in Shalamovo?" {This is what the peasants call a solar eclipse in our parts.}

"When the sun disappeared? Of course."

"I bet you were frightened too?"

"Not just us. Our master, though he explained to us beforehand that there would be a portent, when it got dark, they say he got so scared himself, you wouldn't believe it. And in the servants' quarters the cook-woman, as soon as it got dark, listen to this, she took the poker and broke all the pots in the stove: 'Who needs to eat now,' she says, 'the end of the world has come.' So the cabbage soup just flowed out. And in our village, brother, such rumors went around, 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.}

"What Trishka is that?" asked Kostya.

"Don't you know?" Ilyusha picked up eagerly. "Well, brother, where are you from, that you don't know about Trishka? Real stay-at-homes you have in your village, real stay-at-homes! Trishka—this will be such a marvelous man who will come; and he'll come when the last times arrive. And he'll be such a marvelous man that it will be impossible to catch him, and it will be impossible to do anything to him: such a marvelous man he'll be. The peasants will want to catch him, for example; they'll come out after him with clubs, surround him, but he'll lead their eyes astray—he'll lead their eyes so astray 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, a cunning man, will tempt the Christian people... well, but it will be impossible to do anything to him... Such a marvelous, cunning man he'll be."

"Well, yes," Pavel continued in his unhurried voice, "that's him. That's who they were waiting for at our place. The old folks said that as soon as the heavenly portent begins, Trishka will come. And 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, the place is visible, spacious. They look—suddenly from the settlement, down the hill, comes some man, such a strange one, with such a remarkable head... Everyone shouts: 'Oh, Trishka's coming! Oh, Trishka's coming!'—and everyone scatters! Our elder crawled into a ditch; the elder's wife got stuck in the gateway, screaming bloody murder, frightened her own yard dog so much that it broke off the chain, over the fence, and into the forest; and Kuzka's father, Dorofeich, jumped into the oats, crouched down, and started crying like a quail: 'Maybe,' he says, 'the enemy, the soul-destroyer, will at least spare the 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 fell silent again for a moment, as often happens with people conversing in the open air. I looked around: night stood solemn and regal; 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 babbling, before the first rustlings and whisperings of morning, before 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 twinkling in rivalry, in the direction of the Milky Way, and truly, looking at them, you seemed to feel dimly yourself the impetuous, ceaseless running of the earth...

A strange, harsh, painful cry rang out suddenly twice in succession over the river and, after a few moments, was repeated already farther off...

Kostya shuddered. "What's that?"

"That's a heron crying," Pavel answered calmly.

"A heron," repeated Kostya... "And what's this, Pavlusha, that I heard yesterday evening," he added, after a brief pause, "you might know..."

"What did you hear?"

"Here's what I heard. I was walking from Stone Ridge to Shashkino; and I walked first all through our hazel grove, and then I went through a meadow—you know, where it comes out at the bend—there's a deep pool there; you know, it's all overgrown with reeds; so I walked past this pool, my brothers, and suddenly from that pool someone moans, and so pitifully, pitifully: ooh... ooh... ooh! Such fear seized me, my brothers: it was late, and the voice was so sickly. I felt like crying myself... What could that have been? Eh?"

"In that pool last year thieves drowned Akim the forester," remarked Pavel, "so maybe his soul is complaining."

"Well, that could be it, my brothers," answered Kostya, widening his already enormous eyes... "I didn't know that Akim was drowned in that pool: 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 out again over the river.) There she goes!" Kostya involuntarily exclaimed, "like a wood-demon crying."

"The wood-demon doesn't cry, he's mute," picked up Ilyusha, "he only claps his hands and rattles..."

"And have you seen him, the wood-demon?" Fedya interrupted 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, 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, like behind a tree, you couldn't make him out well, like he was hiding from the moon, and staring, staring with those huge eyes, blinking them, blinking..."

"Oh!" exclaimed Fedya, shuddering slightly and twitching his shoulders, "ugh!.."

"And why has this filth multiplied in the world?" remarked Pavel. "I really don't understand!"

"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—like bees swarming!"

He stuck out his fresh little face from under the mat, propped himself on his fist, and slowly raised his big quiet eyes upward. All the boys' eyes rose to the sky and didn't lower for a long time.

"Well, Vanya," Fedya spoke tenderly, "how is your sister Anyutka, is she well?"

"She's well," answered Vanya with a slight lisp.

"Tell her—why doesn't she come to see us?.."

"I don't know."

"Tell her she should 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, our girl."

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. Anything can 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 into the water, they'll say... What fall?.. Over there, he's climbed 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 mad since she was in the water?"

"Since then... What she's like now! But they say she was a beauty before. The water-spirit spoiled her. Must not have expected them to pull her out so soon. So he spoiled her there, at the bottom."

(I myself had 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 tramples for hours in one spot, somewhere on the road, pressing her bony hands tightly to her chest and slowly shifting from foot to foot, like a wild beast in a cage. She understands nothing, whatever anyone says to her, and only occasionally laughs convulsively.)

"But 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! What a boy! His mother, Feklista, how she loved him, Vasya! And it was like she sensed, Feklista, that he would perish from water. Sometimes Vasya would go with us, with the boys, to swim in the river in summer—she'd be all aflutter. Other women would think nothing of it, walking past with their tubs, waddling along, but Feklista would put her tub on the ground and start calling him: 'Come back,' she'd say, 'come back, my dear! Oh, come back, my falcon!' And how he drowned, the Lord knows. He was playing on the shore, and his mother was right there, raking hay; suddenly she hears something like bubbles rising in the water—she looks, and only Vasya's little cap is floating on the water. Well, 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 up a song—remember, Vasya always used to sing such a song—so she starts that one up, and cries herself, 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 babbled.

"By God. I'd just bent down to the water when I suddenly 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 the 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," Ilyusha said deliberately.

"Well, it's nothing, never mind!" Pavel said decisively and sat down again, "you can't escape your fate."

The boys fell 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."

"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 joined the boys. The moon had finally risen; 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 stood high in the sky not long ago had inclined toward the dark edge of the earth; everything around had completely quieted, as everything usually quiets only toward morning: everything slept a deep, motionless, pre-dawn sleep. The air no longer smelled so strongly—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 fell upon me; it passed into drowsiness.

A fresh stream ran across my face. I opened my eyes: morning was beginning. There was no glow of dawn yet anywhere, but it had already whitened in the east. Everything became visible, though dimly visible, all around. The pale gray sky was brightening, growing cold, turning blue; the stars now blinked with faint light, now disappeared; the earth grew damp, leaves were covered with dew, here and there living sounds, voices began to ring out, and the thin, early breeze was already wandering and fluttering over the earth. My body answered it with a light, cheerful shiver. I got up briskly and approached the boys. They were all sleeping like the dead around the smoldering fire; only Pavel half-raised himself and looked intently at me.

I nodded to him and went on my way along the smoking river. I hadn't gone two versts when streams of young, hot light poured all around me—over the broad 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 poured forth... Everything stirred, awoke, began to sing, rustle, speak. Everywhere large drops of dew sparkled like radiant diamonds; toward me, clean 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 regrettably add that Pavel died that same year. He didn't drown: he was killed, falling from a horse. A pity, he was a splendid lad!

Biryuk

(From the cycle "Sketches from a Hunter's Album")