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"And here's how. My brother Avdyushka and I had to spend the night at the paper mill, along with Fyodor Mikheevsky, and Ivashka the Cross-eyed, and another Ivashka from Red Hills, and also Ivashka Sukhorukov, and there were other lads too; there were about ten of us boys in all—a whole shift; and we had to stay overnight at the rolling mill, not that we really had to, but Nazarov, the overseer, forbade us; he says: 'What's the point of you lads traipsing 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, 'What if the house spirit comes, lads?'... And no sooner had he, Avdey that is, spoken those words, than suddenly someone started walking overhead; but we were lying below, and he was walking above, by the wheel. We hear him: he's walking, and the boards under him bend and creak; then he passed right over our heads; suddenly the water over the wheel starts to make noise, make noise; the wheel starts knocking, knocking, turning; but the sluice gates at the race {The 'race' is what we call the place where water runs onto the wheel. (Note by I.S. Turgenev)} were lowered. We're amazed: who raised them, that the water started flowing? The wheel turned and turned, then stopped. Then he went to the door upstairs and started descending the stairs, and you could hear he wasn't hurrying; the steps under him were actually groaning... Well, he approached our door, waited, waited—suddenly the door flung wide open. We all started! We look—nothing... Suddenly, look, at one vat the mould {The screen with which they scoop paper. (Note by I.S. Turgenev)} stirred, rose, dipped, moved about, moved about in the air, as if someone was rinsing it, and then back in its place. Then at another vat the hook came off its nail and back onto 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 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?"

"Don't know; maybe from the dampness."

Everyone fell silent.

"Well then," asked Fedya, "are the potatoes cooked?"

Pavlusha felt them.

"No, still raw... Look, it splashed," he added, turning his face toward the river, "must be a pike... And there's a little star falling."

"No, I'll tell you something, brothers," Kostya began in his thin voice, "listen to what my father told me the other day when I was there."

"Well, we're listening," said Fedya with a patronizing air.

"You know Gavrila, the village carpenter?"

"Well 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, father was saying—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, brothers—no! he can't find the road; and it's already night outside. So he sat down under a tree; 'Let me,' he says, 'wait for 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 of laughter, laughing... And the moon is shining strongly, so strongly, the moon shines clearly—everything, my brothers, is visible. So she's calling him, and she's all so pale, so white sitting on the branch, like some roach or minnow—or else there's a kind of carp that's so whitish, silvery... Gavrila the carpenter just froze, my brothers, and she keeps laughing and beckoning him to her with her hand. Gavrila was about to get up, about to obey the rusalka, my brothers, but the Lord must have advised him: he made the sign of the cross over himself... And how hard it was for him to make that cross, my brothers; he says his hand was just like stone, wouldn't move... Oh you devil, eh!.. So when he made the cross, my brothers, the rusalka stopped laughing, and suddenly started crying... She's crying, my brothers, wiping her eyes with her hair, and her hair is green, like hemp. So Gavrila looked and looked at her, and started asking her: 'Why are you crying, forest creature?' And the rusalka says to him: 'If you hadn't crossed yourself, she says, 'you would have lived with me in merriment to the end of your days; and I'm crying, I'm grieving because you crossed yourself; but not I alone will grieve: grieve you too until the end of your days.' Then she, my brothers, vanished, and immediately Gavrila understood how to get out of the forest, that is... But ever since then he always goes about gloomy."

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

"Yes, but there you are!" said Kostya. "And Gavrila said that her voice, he says, was so thin, pitiful, like a toad's."

"Your father told this himself?" continued Fedya.

"Himself. I was lying on the sleeping bench, heard everything."

"Strange thing! Why should he be gloomy?... Well, she must have liked him, since she called him."

"Yes, liked him!" Ilyusha picked up. "Of course! She wanted to tickle him to death, that's what she wanted. That's their business, those rusalkas."

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

"No," answered Kostya, "this is a clean place, open. Except—the river's near."

Everyone grew quiet. Suddenly, somewhere in the distance, a long, ringing, almost moaning sound rang out, one of those incomprehensible 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 cried out long, long under the very horizon, as if another answered him in the forest with thin, sharp laughter, and a weak, hissing whistle rushed along the river. The boys exchanged glances, shuddered...

"God's power be with us!" whispered Ilya.

"Eh, you crows!" shouted Pavel. "What are you startled about? 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 mat. The pot was soon emptied.

"Have you heard, lads," 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 really 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 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: 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: they don't live with him for some reason, never have lived, but he's a good dog-keeper, got everything. So Ermil went for the post, and lingered in town, and 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, 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 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 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 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 scared: 'I don't remember,' he says, 'rams looking anyone 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 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 rushed after the dogs with a shout. Their barking quickly receded... The anxious running of the startled herd could be heard. Pavlusha shouted loudly: "Gray! Zhuchka!.." In a few moments the barking stopped; Pavel's voice already came from far away... A little more time passed; the boys exchanged puzzled glances, as if waiting for what would happen... Suddenly the sound of a galloping horse rang out; it stopped sharply right at the fire, and, grabbing the mane, Pavlusha nimbly jumped off it. Both dogs also jumped into the circle of light and immediately sat down, sticking out their red tongues.

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

"Nothing," answered Pavel, waving his hand at the horse, "the dogs just sensed something. 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 fine at that moment. His plain face, animated by the fast ride, glowed with bold daring and firm resolve. Without even 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.

"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. As he sat on the ground, he laid 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 again burrowed under his mat.

"What scary things you were telling us, Ilyushka," Fedya began, who, as the son of a wealthy peasant, had to be the leader (though he spoke little himself, as if afraid of lowering his dignity). "And the devil made the dogs start barking... But it's true, I've heard that place of yours is unclean."

"Varnavitsy?... Of course! what an unclean place! They say the old master has been seen there more than once—the late master. He walks, they say, in a long coat and keeps groaning, looking for something on the ground. Once Grandfather Trofimych met him: 'What, he says, 'are you looking for on the ground, sir, Ivan Ivanovich?'"

"He asked him?" interrupted the amazed Fedya.

"Yes, he asked."

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

"'Rupture-grass,' he says, 'I'm looking for.' And he spoke so hollowly, hollowly: 'Rupture-grass.' 'And what do you need rupture-grass for, sir Ivan Ivanovich?' 'The grave,' he says, 'is pressing, Trofimych: I want to get out, get out...'"

"Well!" 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 any time," Ilyusha picked up with confidence, who, as far as I could tell, knew all the village superstitions better than the others... "But on Parents' Saturday you can see the living too, those 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 down the path in just his shirt. She looked closely—Ivashka Fedoseev is walking..."

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

"The very one. He's walking and doesn't raise his head... And Ulyana recognized him... But then she looks: a woman is walking. She peers and peers—oh Lord!—it's herself walking down the road, Ulyana herself."

"Really herself?" asked Fedya.

"By God, herself."

"Well what of it, she hasn't died yet?"

"The year hasn't passed yet. But look at her: she's barely alive."

Everyone grew quiet 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 curl, raising their scorched 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, whirled fearfully in one place, bathed in the hot glow, and disappeared, its wings ringing.

"Must have strayed from home," remarked Pavel. "Now it'll fly until it bumps into something, and where it bumps, 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 at your Shalamovo?" {This is what the peasants call a solar eclipse in our region. (Note by I.S. Turgenev)}

"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, he himself, they say, got so scared, goodness me. And in the servants' cottage the cook woman, as soon as it got dark, listen to this, she took the oven fork and smashed all the pots in the stove: 'Who's going to eat now,' she says, 'the end of the world has come.' So the cabbage soup ran everywhere. And in our village such rumors were going around, brother, that white wolves would run across the land, would eat people, a bird of prey would fly, and they'd even see Trishka himself." {The belief about 'Trishka' probably echoes the legend of the Antichrist. (Note by I.S. Turgenev)}

"What Trishka is this?" asked Kostya.

"You don't know?" Ilyusha picked up eagerly. "Well, brother, where are you from that you don't know about Trishka? They're real stay-at-homes 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 it'll be impossible to catch him, and impossible to do anything to him: such a marvelous man he'll be. The peasants will want, for example, to catch him; they'll come out after him with clubs, surround him, but he'll deceive their eyes—so deceive their eyes that they'll beat each other instead. 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, and he'll just clap his hands—and they'll fall right off him. Well, and this Trishka will walk through villages and towns; and this Trishka, the cunning man, will tempt the Christian people... but there'll be nothing you can do to him... Such a marvelous, cunning man he'll be."

"Well yes," Pavel continued in his unhurried voice, "that's him. So they were waiting for him at our place. The old people said that as soon as the heavenly portent begins, Trishka will come. So the portent began. The whole people poured out into the street, into the field, waiting for what would happen. And our place, you know, is visible, open. They look—suddenly from the settlement down the hill comes some person, so strange, with such a marvelous head... Everyone screamed: 'Oh, Trishka's coming! Oh, Trishka's coming!'—and scattered in all directions! 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 it broke off the chain, over the fence, and into the forest; and Kuzka's father, Dorofeich, jumped into the oats, squatted down, and started crying like a quail: 'Maybe,' he says, 'the enemy, the soul-destroyer, will spare at least a bird.' That's how frightened everyone got!.. But this person 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 quiet 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 the dry warmth of midnight, and it would lie like a soft blanket on the sleeping fields for a long time yet; much time remained before the first babbling, the first rustlings and whispers of morning, before the first dewdrops of dawn. There was no moon in the sky: it rose late at that time. Countless golden stars seemed to flow quietly, all twinkling in competition, in the direction of the Milky Way, and truly, looking at them, you seemed to feel dimly yourself the impetuous, ceaseless rush of the earth...

A strange, sharp, painful cry rang out suddenly twice in succession over the river and, after a few moments, repeated farther away...

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 pausing a bit, "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, then I went through the meadow—you know, where it comes out at the sharp bend {A sharp bend is a steep turn in a ravine. (Note by I.S. Turgenev)}—there's a deep pool there {A deep pool is a deep hole with spring water left after the flood, which doesn't dry up even in summer. (Note by I.S. Turgenev)}, you know; you know it's still all overgrown with reeds; so I walked past this pool, my brothers, and suddenly from that pool someone groaned, and so pitifully, pitifully: oo-oo... oo-oo... oo-oo! I got so frightened, my brothers: the time was late, and the voice was so sickly. I felt like I'd cry 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, my brothers," answered Kostya, widening his already huge 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, that wasn't frogs... what frogs..." (The heron cried out again over the river.) "Damn it!" Kostya said involuntarily, "screaming like a wood goblin."

"A wood goblin doesn't scream, it's mute," Ilyusha picked up, "it only claps its hands and rattles..."

"Have you seen it, the wood goblin?" Fedya interrupted him mockingly.

"No, I haven't seen it, and God save me from seeing it; but others have seen it. Just the other day it led one of our peasants astray: led him, led him through the forest, kept circling around one clearing... He barely made it home by dawn."

"Well, and did he see it?"

"He saw it. He says it stood there big, big, dark, wrapped up, like behind a tree, you can't make it out properly, like it's hiding from the moon, and it looks, looks with its 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. "Really don't understand!"

"Don't curse, watch out, it might hear," remarked Ilya.

Silence fell again.

"Look, look, lads," 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 large quiet eyes upward. All the boys' eyes rose to the sky and didn't lower soon.

"Well, Vanya," Fedya said affectionately, "is your sister Anyutka well?"

"She's well," answered Vanya, slightly lisping.

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

"I don't know."

"Tell her to come."

"I'll tell her."

"Tell her I'll give her a treat."

"And will you give me one?"

"I'll give you one too."

Vanya sighed.

"Well, no, I don't need one. Better give it to her: 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 scoop up some water: I want to drink some water."

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. But anything can happen: he'll bend down, start scooping water, and the water spirit will grab him by the hand and drag him to itself. Then they'll say: the boy fell, they say, into the water... What do you mean fell?.. There he is, climbed into the reeds," he added, listening.

The reeds were indeed "rustling," parting, as we say.

"Is it true," asked Kostya, "that Akulina the fool lost her mind after she was in the water?"

"After that... Look at her 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, for himself."

(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 tramples 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.)

"And they say," Kostya continued, "that Akulina threw herself in the river because her lover deceived her."

"That's exactly why."

"And do you remember Vasya?" Kostya added sadly.

"What Vasya?" asked Fedya.

"The one who drowned," answered Kostya, "in this very river. Oh, what a boy he was! eeh, what a boy he was! His mother, Feklista, how she loved him, Vasya! And it was as if she sensed, Feklista, that he'd perish from water. Sometimes Vasya would go with us, with the lads, in summer to swim in the river—she'd be all in a flutter. Other women don't care, they walk past with their tubs, waddling, 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, God only knows. He was playing on the shore, 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 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 sang that song—so she starts it up, and she cries, cries, bitterly complains to God..."

"Here comes Pavlusha," said Fedya.

Pavel approached the fire with the full pot in his hand.

"Well, lads," he began, after pausing, "it's bad."

"What?" Kostya asked hastily.

"I heard Vasya's voice."

Everyone shuddered.

"What do you mean, what do you mean?" Kostya stammered.

"By God. Just as I bent down to the water, suddenly I 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."

"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, never mind, let it be!" Pavel said decisively and sat down again, "you can't escape your fate."

The boys grew quiet. Clearly Pavel's words had made a deep impression on them. They began settling 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 finally rose; I didn't notice it right away: it was so small and narrow. This moonless night seemed still as magnificent as before... But already many stars that had recently stood high in the sky had inclined toward the dark edge of the earth; everything had completely quieted around, as everything usually quiets only toward morning: everything slept a deep, motionless, pre-dawn sleep. The air no longer smelled as strongly—dampness seemed to spread through it again... Short are the summer nights!.. The boys' conversation died down together with the fires... Even the dogs were dozing; the horses, as far as I could make out in the faintly glimmering, weakly flowing starlight, were also lying 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 rosy glow 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 now blinked with weak light, now disappeared; the earth grew damp, leaves broke into sweat, 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 tremor. I quickly stood up and went to the boys. They were all sleeping like the dead around the smoldering fire; only Pavel half rose and looked intently at me.

I nodded to him and went on my way along the smoking river. Before I had gone two versts, already pouring all around me across the broad wet meadow, and ahead across the greening hills, from forest to forest, and behind along the long dusty road, across the sparkling, crimsoned bushes, and along the river, bashfully turning blue from under the thinning mist—poured first crimson, then red, golden streams of young, hot light... Everything stirred, awoke, began to sing, make noise, speak. Everywhere large drops of dew glowed like radiant diamonds; to meet 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 regretfully add that in that same year Pavel died. He didn't drown: he was killed, falling from a horse. A pity, he was a fine lad!

Biryuk

(From the cycle "Notes of a Hunter")