来自：A Sportsman's Sketches
"Well, let's hear it," said Fedya with a patronizing air.
"You know Gavrila, the village carpenter?"
"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 told me,—he went, my brothers, to the forest for nuts. So he went to the forest for nuts, and got lost; he wandered off—God knows where he wandered off to. He walked and walked, my brothers,—no! he cannot find the road; and night had already fallen. So he sat down under a tree; let me, he thought, wait until 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 call. He looks again, looks: and before him on a branch sits a rusalka, swaying and calling him to her, and she herself is dying of laughter, laughing... And the moon was shining brightly, so brightly, the moon was shining clearly—everything, my brothers, was visible. So she calls him, and she herself is all bright, all white sitting on the branch, like a roach or a gudgeon,—or else there's also a crucian carp that's so whitish, silvery... Gavrila the carpenter just froze, my brothers, but she keeps laughing and keeps beckoning him to her with her hand. Gavrila was about to get up, about to obey the rusalka, my brothers, but, it seems, the Lord inspired 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 burst into tears... 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 began to ask her: 'Why are you crying, forest demon?' And the rusalka speaks to him: 'If you hadn't crossed yourself, she says, man, you would have lived with me in merriment until the end of your days; but I'm crying, I'm grieving because you crossed yourself; and it's not only I who will grieve: grieve you shall too until the end of your days.' Then she, my brothers, vanished, and Gavrila immediately understood how to get out of the forest, that is... But since then he's always been gloomy."
"Well!" said Fedya after a brief silence, "how can such forest unclean spirit corrupt a Christian soul,—he didn't obey her, after all?"
"Well, there you go!" 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 stove shelf, I heard everything."
"Strange thing! Why should he be gloomy?... Well, I suppose he pleased her, since she called him."
"Yes, pleased her!" picked up Ilyusha. "Of course! She wanted to tickle him to death, that's what she wanted. That's their business, these rusalkas."
"And surely there must be rusalkas here too," remarked Fedya.
"No," answered Kostya, "this is a clean place, open. The only thing—the river's near."
Everyone fell silent. Suddenly, somewhere in the distance, a prolonged, ringing, almost moaning sound rang out, one of those inexplicable night sounds that 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, someone else seemed to have responded to 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 done." (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.
"Have you heard, boys," began Ilyusha, "what happened at our Varnavitsy the other day?"
"At the dam?" asked Fedya.
"Yes, yes, at the dam, at the broken one. That's a truly unclean place, so unclean, and so desolate. All around there are ravines, gullies, and in the gullies all kinds of snakes live."
"Well, what happened? Tell us..."
"Well, this is what happened. You, Fedya, may not know, but a drowned man is 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 office.' 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, they just never lived, but he's a good dog keeper, took to it well. So Ermil went for the post, and he lingered in town, but when he's riding back he's already drunk. And it was night, and a bright night: the moon was shining... So Ermil is riding across the dam: that's how his road went. He's riding along like this, the dog keeper Ermil, and he sees: at the drowned man's grave a little lamb, white, curly, pretty, is walking about. So Ermil thinks: 'I'll take it,—why should it perish like that,' and he got down, and took it in his arms... But the lamb—nothing. So Ermil goes to his horse, but the horse shies away from him, snorts, shakes its head; however, he calmed her down, got on her 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 felt uneasy: what, he says, I don't remember rams ever looking people in the eyes like that; however, nothing; he started to stroke its wool, saying: 'Baa, baa!' And the ram suddenly bares its teeth, and says to him too: '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 restless running of the startled herd could be heard. Pavlusha was shouting loudly: "Grey! Zhuchka!.." In a few moments the barking ceased; Pavel's voice already came from far away... A little more time passed; the boys exchanged puzzled glances, as if waiting to see what would happen... Suddenly the tramping of a galloping horse sounded; it stopped abruptly right at the fire, and, clutching the mane, Pavlusha nimbly jumped off it. 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 scented. 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 handsome at that moment. His plain face, animated by the fast ride, glowed with bold daring and firm resolve. Without a twig 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 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 accidentally put his hand 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 huddled under his mat again.
"What scary stories you were telling us, Ilyushka," said Fedya, who, as the son of a wealthy peasant, had to be the ringleader (though he himself spoke little, as if afraid of lowering his dignity). "And the devils made the dogs bark there... But it's true, I've heard, that place of yours is unclean."
"Varnavitsy?... You bet! really unclean! They say the old master—the deceased master—has been seen there more than once. He walks, they say, in a long-skirted caftan and keeps groaning like this, looking for something on the ground. Once grandfather Trofimych met him: 'What, he says, my dear sir, Ivan Ivanovich, are you looking for on the ground?'"
"He asked him?" interrupted the astonished Fedya.
"Yes, he asked."
"Well, Trofimych is a brave one after that... Well, and what did he say?"
"'Rupture-grass,' he says, 'I'm looking for.' And he spoke so hollowly, so hollowly: 'Rupture-grass.' 'And what do you need, my dear sir Ivan Ivanovich, rupture-grass for?' 'The grave presses,' he says, 'Trofimych: I want out, I want out...'"
"Fancy that!" remarked Fedya, "he didn't live long enough, it seems."
"What a wonder!" said Kostya. "I thought you could only see the dead on Parents' Saturday."
"You can see the dead at any time," Ilyusha picked up with assurance, who, as far as I could observe, 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 at night on the church porch 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, saw and heard nobody... only it was as if a little dog kept barking, barking somewhere... Suddenly, she looks: a boy is walking along the path in just a shirt. She looked closely—Ivashka Fedoseev is walking..."
"The one who died in the spring?" interrupted Fedya.
"The very same. He's walking and doesn't raise his little head... And Ulyana recognized him... But then she looks: a woman is walking. She peered and peered,—oh Lord!—it's herself walking on the road, Ulyana herself."
"Really herself?" asked Fedya.
"By God, herself."
"Well what then, she hasn't died yet, has she?"
"The year hasn't passed yet. But you look at her: what's keeping her soul in her body."
Everyone quieted down again. Pavel threw a handful of dry twigs on the fire. They turned sharply black against the suddenly flaring flame, crackled, began to smoke and started to warp, raising their burnt ends. The reflection of light struck out, trembling fitfully, in all directions, especially upward. Suddenly, out of nowhere, a white dove—flew straight into this reflection, turned about fearfully in one place, all bathed 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 wherever it lands, that's where it will spend the night until 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," began Fedya, "did you also see the heavenly portent in your Shalamovo?"
"When the sun disappeared? Of course."
"I suppose you were frightened too?"
"Not just us. Our master, though he explained to us beforehand that, they say, there will be a portent for you, but when it got dark, he himself, they say, got so scared, you wouldn't believe it. And in the servants' cottage the cook woman, so she, as soon as it got dark, listen to this, took the oven fork and broke 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 just poured out. And in our village such rumors were going around, brother, that, they said, white wolves would run across the earth, would eat people, a bird of prey would fly, or they would even see Trishka himself."
"What Trishka is that?" asked Kostya.
"Don't you know?" picked up Ilyusha with fervor. "Well, brother, where are you from, that you don't know about Trishka? Real stay-at-homes in your village, that's for sure, stay-at-homes! Trishka—this will be such an amazing person who will come; and he will come when the last times arrive. And he will be such an amazing person that you won't be able to catch him, and you won't be able to do anything to him: he'll be such an amazing person. The peasants will want, for example, to catch him; they'll come out at him with clubs, surround him, but he'll deceive their eyes—he'll deceive their eyes so that they'll beat each other up. They'll put him in jail, for example,—he'll ask for some water to drink in a dipper: they'll bring him a dipper, and he'll dive into it, and that's the last you'll see of him. 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 go walking through villages and towns; and this Trishka, a cunning man, will tempt the Christian people... well, but you won't be able to do anything to him... He'll be such an amazing, cunning man."
"Well yes," Pavel continued in his unhurried voice, "that's the one. So they were waiting for him at our place. The old men said that, well, they said, as soon as the heavenly portent begins, Trishka will come. Well, it began. All the people poured out into the street, into the field, waiting for what would happen. And at our place, you know, it's a visible spot, spacious. They look—suddenly from the hamlet down the hill comes some person, such a strange one, his head so peculiar... Everyone shouts: 'Oh, Trishka is coming! oh, Trishka is 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 off the chain, over the fence, and into the forest; and Kuzka's father, Dorofeich, jumped into the oats, crouched down, and started calling like a quail: 'Maybe, he says, the enemy, the soul-destroyer, will at least spare the bird.' That's how everyone got frightened!.. But the person walking 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: the night stood solemn and majestic; the damp freshness of late evening had been replaced by midnight's dry warmth, and it would lie for a long time yet as a soft canopy over the sleeping fields; much time remained until the first babbling, the first rustlings and whispers of morning, until 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 dimly yourself the headlong, ceaseless movement of the earth...
A strange, harsh, 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 calmly replied.
"A heron," repeated Kostya... "But what was it, Pavlusha, that I heard yesterday evening," he added, after a brief silence, "you might know..."
"What did you hear?"
"This is what I heard. I was walking from Kamennaya Gryada 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 sharp bend,—there's a deep pool there, you know; it's all overgrown with reeds, you know; so I went past this pool, brothers, and suddenly from that pool someone groans, and so pitifully, so pitifully: oo-oo... oo-oo... oo-oo! Such fear seized me, brothers: it was late, and the voice was so sickly. I felt I could burst into tears myself... What could that have been? eh?"
"Last year thieves drowned Akim the forester in that pool," remarked Pavel, "so maybe it's his soul complaining."
"Well, that could be it, brothers," replied 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 then, they say, there are such tiny frogs," Pavel continued, "that cry so pitifully."
"Frogs? Well, no, it wasn't frogs... what frogs..." (The heron cried out again over the river.) "Damn it!" Kostya involuntarily exclaimed, "it's like a wood goblin crying."
"A wood goblin doesn't cry, he's mute," picked up Ilyusha, "he only claps his hands and rattles..."
"Have you seen him, the wood goblin?" 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, did he see him?"
"He saw him. Says he was standing so big, so big, dark, muffled up, like behind a tree, you can't make him out properly, like hiding from the moon, and stares, stares with those huge eyes, and blinks them, blinks..."
"Oh!" exclaimed Fedya, shuddering slightly and jerking his shoulders, "ugh!.."
"And why has this filth bred in the world?" remarked Pavel. "I really don't understand!"
"Don't curse, watch out, he'll hear," 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 his fresh little face out from under the mat, propped himself on his fist, and slowly raised his large, calm eyes upward. All the boys' eyes rose to the sky and didn't lower for some time.
"Well, Vanya," Fedya said affectionately, "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."
"Will you give me one too?"
"I'll give you one too."
Vanya sighed.
"Well, no, I don't need it. Give it to her instead: she's so kind, our sister."
And Vanya laid his head on the ground again. Pavel stood up and picked up the empty pot.
"Where are you going?" Fedya asked him.
"To the river, to scoop some water: I want some water to drink."
The dogs got up and followed him.
"Watch out 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 bend down, start scooping water, and the water spirit will grab him by the hand and drag him to himself. Then they'll say: the boy fell, they'll say, into the water... What do you mean fell?.. There he is, he's climbed into the reeds," he added, listening.
The reeds were indeed "rustling" as they parted, as we say.
"Is it true," asked Kostya, "that Akulina the fool has been mad ever since she was in the water?"
"Ever since... What she's like now! But they say she was a beauty before. The water spirit spoiled her. I suppose he didn't expect they'd pull her out so soon. So he spoiled her there, at his place on 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 would tramp for hours in one place, 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 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.
"Which Vasya?" asked Fedya.
"The one who drowned," answered Kostya, "in this very river. Oh, what a boy he was! i-i, what a boy he was! His mother, Feklista, oh how she loved him, her Vasya! And it was as if she had a premonition, Feklista, that he would perish from water. Sometimes Vasya would go with us, with the 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 tubs, waddling along, but Feklista would set her tub on the ground and start calling him: 'Come back, she'd say, come back, my bright one! oh, come back, my falcon!' And how he drowned, God only knows. He was playing on the bank, and his mother was right there, raking hay; suddenly she hears, as if someone's blowing bubbles on 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 on the spot where he drowned; she'll lie down, brothers, and start singing a song,—remember, Vasya used to sing such a song,—so she starts that very song, and cries herself, cries, bitterly complains to God..."
"Here comes Pavlusha," said Fedya.
Pavel approached the fire with a full pot in his hand.
"Well, boys," he began after a pause, "something's wrong."
"What?" Kostya asked hastily.
"I heard Vasya's voice."
Everyone shuddered.
"What do you mean, what do you mean?" stammered Kostya.
"By God. I'd just bent down to the water when I suddenly hear someone calling me in Vasya's voice and as if from under the water: 'Pavlusha, oh Pavlusha!' I listen; and he calls again: 'Pavlusha, come here.' I moved away. But I scooped up some water."
"Oh Lord! oh Lord!" the boys said, crossing themselves.
"That was the water spirit calling you, Pavel," added Fedya... "And we were just talking about him, about Vasya."
"Oh, this is 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 evident 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 had 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 to be just 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 all around, 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 summer nights!.. The boys' conversation was dying out along with the fires... Even the dogs were drowsing; the horses, as far as I could make out, in the faintly glimmering, weakly flowing light of the stars, were also lying down, their heads lowered... Sweet oblivion descended upon 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 brightening, growing cold, turning blue; the stars now flickered with weak light, now disappeared; the earth grew damp, leaves became covered with dew, here and there living sounds, 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 tremor. I quickly got up 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 walked away along the smoking river. I hadn't gone two versts when already pouring 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, bashfully turning blue from under the thinning mist,—first crimson, then red, golden streams of young, hot light poured out... Everything stirred, awoke, began to sing, to rustle, to speak. Everywhere large drops of dew glowed 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, to my regret, 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 "A Sportsman's Sketches")