De: A Sportsman's Sketches
At 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 then, did you really see the house spirit?"
"No, I didn't see him, and you can't see him," answered Ilyusha in a hoarse, weak voice, the sound of which perfectly matched the expression on 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." (The "rolling room" or "dipping room" at paper mills is the building where they scoop paper in vats. It stands right by the dam, under the wheel. Author's note.)
"Do you work at the mill then?"
"Of course we do. My brother Avdyushka and I work as smoothers." ("Smoothers" polish and scrape the paper. Author's note.)
"Well, well—mill workers!..."
"So how did you hear him then?" asked Fedya.
"Well, here's how. My brother Avdyushka and I had to stay, along with Fyodor Mikheevsky, and Ivashka the Cross-Eyed, and the other Ivashka from Red Hills, and Ivashka Sukhorukov too, and there were other boys there as well; there were about ten of us boys altogether—the whole shift, that is; and we had to spend the night in the rolling room, or rather, it wasn't exactly that we had to, but Nazarov, the overseer, forbade us to go; he says: 'What's the point of you boys trudging home; there's lots of work tomorrow, so don't go home, boys.' 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, when 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 beneath him are bending and creaking; then he walked right over our heads; then the water suddenly started rushing, rushing through the wheel; the wheel started knocking, knocking and turning; but the sluice gates at the race (At our place, the "race" is where the water runs onto the wheel. Author's note.) were lowered. We're amazed: who raised them so the water would flow? But the wheel turned and turned, then stopped. Then he went to the door upstairs and started going down the stairs, and you could tell he wasn't hurrying; the steps beneath him were actually groaning... Well, he approached our door, waited, waited—then the door suddenly flew wide open. We were terrified, we look—nothing... Suddenly, look, at one vat the mold (The screen used to scoop the paper. Author's note.) started moving, lifted up, dipped, moved about, moved about in the air, as if someone was rinsing it, then back in its place. Then at another vat a hook came off the nail and back on the nail again; then it was as if someone went to the door and suddenly started coughing, choking, like some sheep, and so loudly... We all tumbled together in a heap, crawled under each other... Boy, were we scared that time!"
"Well, well!" said Pavel. "Why was he coughing?"
"Don't know; maybe from the dampness."
Everyone fell silent.
"Well," asked Fedya, "are the potatoes cooked?"
Pavlusha felt them.
"No, still hard... Listen, it splashed," he added, turning his face toward the river, "must be a pike... And there's a star falling."
"No, let me tell you something, brothers," Kostya began in a thin voice, "listen to what my father told me the other day, and I was right there."
"Well, we're listening," said Fedya with a patronizing air.
"You know Gavrila, the village carpenter, don't you?"
"Yes, we know him."
"And do you know why he's always so gloomy, always silent, do you know? Here's why he's so gloomy. He went once, my father said—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. He walked and walked, brothers—no! He can't find the path; and it's already night. So he sat down under a tree; let me wait till morning, he thinks—he sat down and dozed off. He dozed off and suddenly hears someone calling him. He looks—nobody. He dozed off again—another call. He looks and looks again: and there before him on a branch sits a water nymph, swaying and calling him to her, while she's dying of laughter, laughing... And the moon is shining brightly, so brightly, clearly the moon is shining—everything, my brothers, is visible. So she's calling him, and she's all bright and white sitting on the branch, like some roach or minnow—or else there's carp that are like that, whitish, silvery... Gavrila the carpenter was frozen, my brothers, but she just keeps laughing and keeps beckoning him to her with her hand. Gavrila was about to get up, to obey the water nymph, my brothers, but—thank God—it came to him: he made the sign of the cross over himself... But how hard it was for him to make that sign, my brothers; he says his hand was like stone, wouldn't move... Oh, such a thing, eh!.. So when he made the sign of the cross, my brothers, the water nymph stopped laughing, and suddenly started crying... She's crying, my brothers, wiping her eyes with her hair, and her hair is green as hemp. So Gavrila looked and looked at her, then started asking her: 'Why are you crying, forest sprite?' And the water nymph says to him: 'If you hadn't crossed yourself, man, you would have lived with me in joy till the end of your days; but I'm crying, I'm grieving because you crossed yourself; but it won't be just me grieving: grieve you too till 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's always gloomy."
"Well, well!" said Fedya after a brief silence, "but how can such forest evil ruin a Christian soul—he didn't obey her, did he?"
"Well, there you go!" said Kostya. "And Gavrila said her voice was so thin, so pitiful, like a toad's."
"Your father told this himself?" Fedya continued.
"Himself. I was lying on the sleeping bench, heard everything."
"Strange thing! Why should he be gloomy?... Well, I guess she 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 water nymphs."
"Well, there must be water nymphs here too," Fedya noted.
"No," answered Kostya, "this is a clean place, open. Except—the river's close."
Everyone fell silent. Suddenly, somewhere in the distance, a long, ringing, almost moaning sound rang out, one of those incomprehensible night sounds that sometimes arise in the midst of deep silence, rise up, hang in the air, and finally spread slowly, as if dying away. You listen—and it's as if there's nothing, but it rings. It seemed someone had cried out for a long, long time under the very horizon, someone else seemed to answer him in the forest with thin, sharp laughter, and a weak, hissing whistle rushed along the river. The boys exchanged glances, shuddered...
"The cross protect us!" whispered Ilya.
"Hey, 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's with you?" said Pavel.
But he didn't come out from under his matting. The pot was soon completely empty.
"Have you heard, boys," Ilyusha began, "what happened the other day at our place in Varnavitsy?"
"At the dam?" asked Fedya.
"Yes, yes, at the dam, the broken one. That's an unclean place, so unclean, and desolate. All around are ravines, gullies, and in the gullies snakes (In Oryol dialect: serpents. Author's note.) are found."
"Well, what happened? Tell us..."
"Well, 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 visible: just a little mound... So the other day, the steward calls the dog-keeper Ermil; he says: 'Go to the post office, Ermil.' Ermil always goes to the post office for us; he's killed all his dogs—they don't live for him for some reason, never have, but he's a good dog-keeper, got everything. So Ermil went to get the mail, and he dawdled 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's the way his road went. He's riding along, Ermil the dog-keeper, and 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 go to waste,' and he got down and took it in his arms... But the lamb—nothing. So Ermil goes to his horse, and the horse shies away from him, snorts, shakes its head; but he calmed it down, got on it with the lamb and rode on: holding the lamb in front of him. He looks at it, and the lamb looks him right in the eyes. Ermil the dog-keeper got scared: 'I don't remember,' he thinks, 'rams looking people in the eyes like that'; but never mind; 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 matting. Pavlusha with a shout rushed after the dogs. Their barking quickly faded away... The anxious running of the startled herd could be heard. Pavlusha was shouting loudly: "Gray! Zhuchka!..." In a few moments the barking stopped; 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 rang out; it stopped short right by the fire, and, grabbing the mane, Pavlusha nimbly jumped off. Both dogs also jumped into the circle of light and immediately sat down, tongues hanging out.
"What was it? What happened?" the boys asked.
"Nothing," answered Pavel, waving his hand at the horse, "the dogs just scented something. 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 fast ride, glowed with bold daring and firm resolve. Without even 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 coward Kostya.
"There are always many of them here," answered Pavel, "but they're only troublesome in winter."
He settled down again by the fire. Sitting on the ground, he dropped his hand on the shaggy head 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 hid under the matting again.
"What scary stories you've been 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 just then... But it's true, I've heard that place of yours is unclean."
"Varnavitsy?... Of course it is! Very unclean! They say the old master—the deceased master—has been seen there many times. They say he walks about in a long-skirted coat, always groaning, searching for something on the ground. Once grandfather Trofimych met him: 'What are you pleased to be searching for on the ground, sir, Ivan Ivanovich?'"
"He asked him that?" interrupted the astonished Fedya.
"Yes, he asked."
"Well, Trofimych is brave for that... And what did he say?"
"'I'm looking for burst-grass,' he says. And he spoke so hollowly, so hollowly: 'Burst-grass.' 'And what do you need burst-grass for, sir Ivan Ivanovich?' 'The grave,' he says, 'presses, Trofimych: I want out, want out...'"
"Well, well!" remarked Fedya, "didn't live long enough, I guess."
"What a wonder!" said Kostya. "I thought you could only see the dead on Parent's 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 Parent's Saturday you can see the living too, those whose turn it is to die that year. You just have to sit on the church porch at night and keep watching the road. And those who are to die that year will walk past you on the road. Last year our woman Ulyana went to the porch."
"Well, did she see anyone?" Kostya asked with curiosity.
"Of course. First she sat for a long, long time, didn't see or hear anyone... only it seemed a little dog was barking, barking somewhere... Suddenly she looks: a boy is walking along the path in just a shirt. She looked closer—Ivashka Fedoseev is walking..."
"The one who died in spring?" interrupted Fedya.
"The very same. Walking with his head down... And Ulyana recognized him... But then she looks: a woman is walking. She peers and peers—oh Lord!—it's herself walking along the road, Ulyana herself."
"Really herself?" asked Fedya.
"God's truth, herself."
"Well so what, she hasn't died yet, has she?"
"But the year hasn't passed yet. And just look at her: barely alive."
Everyone fell silent again. Pavel threw a handful of dry twigs on the fire. They turned sharply black against the suddenly flaring flame, crackled, smoked, and began to curl, lifting their charred ends. The reflection of light struck out, trembling fitfully in all directions, especially upward. Suddenly, out of nowhere, a white dove flew right into this reflection, circled fearfully in one spot, bathed in the hot glow, and disappeared, wings whirring.
"Must have lost its way from home," Pavel remarked. "Now it'll fly until it hits something, and wherever it lands, 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.
"Tell me, please, Pavlusha," Fedya began, "did you also see the heavenly portent in Shalamovo?" (This is what the peasants call a solar eclipse. Author's note.)
"When the sun disappeared? Yes, we did."
"I bet you were scared too?"
"It wasn't just us. Our master, even 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' cottage the cook woman, as soon as it got dark, listen to this, took the oven fork 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 ran everywhere. And in our village, brother, such rumors were going around that white wolves would run across the earth, would eat people, a bird of prey would fly, and that they'd 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 eagerly. "Well, brother, where are you from that you don't know about Trishka? Stay-at-homes you are in your village, real stay-at-homes! Trishka—he'll 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 you won't be able to catch him, and nothing can be done to him: he'll be such a marvelous man. The peasants will want to catch him, for example; they'll go after him with clubs, surround him, but he'll blind them—so blind them that they'll beat each other up. 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. 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 about the villages and towns; and this Trishka, the crafty man, will lead the Christian people astray... well, but nothing can be done to him... He'll be such a marvelous, crafty man."
"Well yes," Pavel continued in his unhurried voice, "that's him. So that's who they were waiting for at our place. The old folk 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 for what would happen. And our place, you know, is high, spacious. They look—suddenly from the settlement down the hill comes some man, so strange, with such a marvelous head... Everyone screamed: 'Oh, Trishka's coming! Oh, Trishka's coming!'—and scattered! 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 its 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 thinks, 'the enemy, the soul-destroyer, will at least spare a bird.' That's how frightened everyone was!.. But the man was our cooper, Vavila: he'd bought himself a new barrel and put the empty barrel on his head."
All the boys laughed and fell silent again for a moment, as often happens with people talking 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 like a soft canopy over the sleeping fields for a long time yet; much time remained before the first babble, the first rustlings and whispers 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 motion of the earth...
A strange, harsh, painful cry rang out suddenly twice in succession over the river and, a few moments later, repeated farther away...
Kostya shuddered. "What was that?"
"That's a heron crying," Pavel calmly replied.
"A heron," Kostya repeated... "But Pavlusha, what 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 through our hazel grove, then across the meadow—you know, where it comes out at the sharp bend (A sharp bend is a steep turn in a ravine. Author's note.)—there's a deep pool there (A deep pool is a deep pit with spring water left from the flood that doesn't dry up even in summer. Author's note.); you know, it's all overgrown with reeds; so I was walking past this pool, my brothers, and suddenly from that pool 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 like I would cry myself... What could it have been? Eh?"
"Last year thieves drowned Akim the forester in that pool," Pavel remarked, "so maybe his soul is complaining."
"Well, that could be it, my brothers," Kostya replied, widening his already enormous eyes... "I didn't know Akim was drowned in that pool: I would have been even more scared."
"But 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 involuntarily exclaimed, "screaming like a wood goblin."
"A wood goblin doesn't scream, he's mute," Ilyusha picked up, "he only claps his hands and rattles..."
"Have you seen him, the wood goblin?" Fedya interrupted him mockingly.
"No, I haven't, and God forbid I should see him; but others have seen him. Just the other day he led one of our peasants astray: led him, led him through the forest, all around one clearing... He barely made it home by dawn."
"Well, did he see him?"
"He saw him. Says he stood tall, tall, dark, muffled, like behind a tree, you can't make him out clearly, like hiding from the moon, and stares, stares with those huge eyes, blinking them, blinking..."
"Oh!" exclaimed Fedya, shuddering slightly and twitching his shoulders, "ugh!.."
"And why has this filth bred in the world?" Pavel remarked. "I don't understand, really!"
"Don't curse, watch out, he'll hear you," Ilya noted.
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 matting, propped himself on his fist, and slowly raised his large quiet eyes upward. All the boys' eyes rose to the sky and didn't lower quickly.
"Well, Vanya," Fedya began kindly, "how is your sister Anyutka?"
"She's well," Vanya answered with a slight lisp.
"You tell her—why doesn't she come to us?..."
"I don't know."
"You tell her to come."
"I will."
"You tell her I'll give her a present."
"Will you give me one too?"
"You too."
Vanya sighed.
"Well no, I don't need one. Better give it to her: she's so kind, our sister."
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 to drink."
The dogs got up and followed him.
"Watch you don't fall in the river!" Ilyusha called after him.
"Why would he fall in?" said Fedya, "he'll be careful."
"Yes, he'll be careful. Anything can happen: he'll bend down, start scooping water, and the water sprite 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's gone into the reeds," he added, listening.
The reeds were indeed "rustling," as we say, parting.
"Is it true," asked Kostya, "that Akulina the fool went mad after she was in the water?"
"Since then... What she's like now! But they say she used to be a beauty. The water sprite ruined her. Probably didn't expect they'd pull her out so quickly. So he ruined her there, down at the bottom."
(I myself 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 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 is said 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 why."
"And do you remember Vasya?" Kostya added sadly.
"What Vasya?" asked Fedya.
"The one who drowned," Kostya answered, "in this very river. Oh, what a boy he was! i-ikh, what a boy he was! His mother, Feklista, how she loved him, that Vasya! And it was as if she sensed, Feklista did, that he would perish from water. When Vasya would go with us, with the boys, to bathe in the river in summer—she'd be all in a flutter. The other women would be fine, walking by with their washtubs, waddling along, but Feklista would put 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 what sounds like someone blowing bubbles in the water—she looks, and only Vasya's little cap is floating on the water. 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, my brothers, and start up a song—remember, Vasya always used to sing such a song—so she starts up that very one, and 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 not right."
"What?" Kostya asked hastily.
"I heard Vasya's voice."
Everyone started.
"What do you mean, what do you mean?" Kostya stammered.
"God's truth. As soon as I bent down to the water, 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 the water anyway."
"Oh Lord! Oh Lord!" the boys said, crossing themselves.
"That was the water sprite calling you, Pavel," Fedya added... "And we were just talking about him, about Vasya."
"Oh, that's a bad sign," 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 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?"
"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 finally rose; I didn't notice it right away: it was so small and narrow. This moonless night seemed just as magnificent as before... But already many stars had set toward the dark edge of the earth, which had recently stood high in the sky; 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 strong—dampness seemed to spread through it again... Short are the summer nights!.. The boys' conversation was dying out together with the fires... The dogs were even 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 turned 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 whitening in the east. Everything became visible, though dimly visible, around. The pale gray sky was brightening, growing cold, turning blue; the stars either blinked with weak light or disappeared; the earth grew damp, leaves were 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 answered it with a light, cheerful shiver. 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 went on my way along the smoking river. Before I had gone two versts, around me, across the wide wet meadow, and ahead, along the greening hills, from forest to forest, and behind along the long dusty road, along the sparkling, crimsoned bushes, and along 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, make noise, speak. Everywhere large drops of dew flashed like radiant diamonds; clean and clear, as if also washed by the morning coolness, the sounds of a bell came toward me, and suddenly past me, driven by the familiar boys, the rested herd rushed by...
I must regretfully add that Pavlusha 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")