Глава 75 из 80

"You know Gavrila, the village carpenter, don't you?"

"Yes, we do."

"And do you know why he's always so cheerless, always silent? Well, I'll tell you why he's so cheerless. Once—my father told me this—he went into the forest to gather nuts. So he went into the forest for nuts and got lost; he wandered off—God knows where he wandered. He walked and walked, my brothers—no! He couldn't find his way; and night had already fallen. So he sat down under a tree; thought he'd wait till morning—sat down and dozed off. Well, he dozed off and suddenly hears someone calling him. He looks—no one there. He dozed off again—called again. He looks again: and there before him on a branch sits a rusalka, swaying and calling him to her, and she's dying of laughter, laughing... And the moon was shining brightly, so brightly, clearly the moon was shining—everything, my brothers, was visible. So she's calling him, and she herself sits there all bright and white on the branch, like some roach or gudgeon—or else there's carp that are so whitish, silvery... Gavrila the carpenter was petrified, my brothers, but she just kept laughing and beckoning him to her with her hand. Gavrila almost got up, almost obeyed the rusalka, my brothers, but, you see, the Lord put sense into him: he made the sign of the cross over himself... And how hard it was for him to make that sign, my brothers; he says his hand was simply like stone, wouldn't move... Oh, the devil!.. Well, as soon as he made the sign of the cross, my brothers, the rusalka stopped laughing, and suddenly she began to weep... She weeps, my brothers, wiping her eyes with her hair, and her hair is green, like hemp. Well, Gavrila looked and looked at her, then began to question her: 'Why are you crying, forest sprite?' And the rusalka said 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 weep, I grieve because you crossed yourself; but I won't be the only one to grieve: grieve you shall too till the end of your days.' Then she, my brothers, vanished, and Gavrila immediately understood how to get out of the forest... But since then he's always cheerless."

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

"Well, there you go!" said Kostya. "And Gavrila said that her voice was so thin, plaintive, like a toad's."

"Your father told this himself?" continued Fedya.

"Himself. I was lying on the sleeping shelf, heard it all."

"Strange thing! Why should he be cheerless?... Ah, it means he pleased her, that 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. Except—the river's close by."

All 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 slowly spread at last, as if dying away. You listen—and it's as if there's nothing, yet it rings. It seemed as if someone had cried out long, long, under the very horizon, as if someone else had 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 sign of the cross be with us!" whispered Ilya.

"Eh, you crows!" cried Pavel. "What are you frightened 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 wrong with you?" said Pavel.

But he didn't emerge from under his matting. The pot was soon completely empty.

"Have you heard, boys," began Ilyusha, "what happened the other day at Varnavitsy?"

"At the dam?" asked Fedya.

"Yes, yes, at the dam, the broken one. That's an unclean place, so unclean, and so desolate. All around are ravines, gullies, and in the gullies all sorts of vipers live."

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

"Well, this is what happened. Perhaps you don't know, Fedya, 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: just a little mound... Well, the other day the steward calls the huntsman Ermil; says: 'Go, 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, never have, yet he's a good huntsman, has everything. So Ermil went for the post, but lingered in town, and was riding back already drunk. But it was night, and a bright night: the moon was shining... So Ermil is riding across the dam: that was his route. He's riding along like this, huntsman 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—doesn't mind. So Ermil goes to his horse, but the horse shies away from him, snorts, shakes her 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 right in the eyes. Ermil the huntsman got uneasy: 'I don't remember,' he thinks, 'rams looking people in the eyes like that'; but never mind; he began stroking its wool like this—says: 'Baa, baa!' And the ram suddenly bares its teeth and says to him likewise: '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 matting. Pavel rushed after the dogs with a shout. Their barking quickly receded... The anxious running of the startled herd could be heard. Pavel was shouting loudly: "Gray! Zhuchka!..." In a few moments the barking ceased; Pavel's voice was already coming from far away... A little more time passed; the boys exchanged puzzled glances, as if waiting to see what would happen... Suddenly the hoofbeats of a galloping horse rang out; it stopped abruptly right by the fire, and, clutching the mane, Pavel nimbly jumped off. Both dogs also leaped into the circle of light and immediately sat down, tongues hanging out red.

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

"Nothing," answered Pavel, waving his hand at the horse, "just something the dogs caught scent of. 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 swift ride, glowed with bold daring and firm resolve. Without even a switch in his hand, at night, he had galloped alone after a wolf without the slightest hesitation... "What a splendid boy!" I thought, looking at him.

"Did you see them, the wolves?" asked the timid Kostya.

"There are always many of them here," answered Pavel, "but they're troublesome only in winter."

He settled down again before the fire. Sitting on the ground, he rested his hand on the shaggy nape of one of the dogs, and for a long time the delighted animal didn't turn its head, gazing sideways at Pavlusha with grateful pride.

Vanya burrowed under his matting again.

"What terrible things you were telling us, Ilyushka," said 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 then the devil made the dogs start barking... But it's true, I've heard this place is unclean."

"Varnavitsy?... Of course it is! Very unclean! They say the old master—the late master—has been seen there more than once. They say he walks about in a long-skirted caftan and keeps groaning like this, looking for something on the ground. Once grandfather Trofimych met him: 'What, sir, Ivan Ivanovich, are you pleased to be 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?"

"'Burglar's herb,' he says, 'I'm looking for.' And spoke so hollowly, hollowly: 'Burglar's herb.' 'And what do you need burglar's herb for, sir, Ivan Ivanovich?' 'The grave presses,' he says, 'Trofimych: I want out, out...'"

"What a thing!" remarked Fedya, "must not have lived enough."

"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 tell, knew all the village superstitions best... "But on Parents' Saturday you can see the living too, those, that is, whose turn it is to die that year. You just have to sit on the church porch at night and keep looking at the road. Those will walk past you on the road who are to die that year. 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 no one... only all the time as if a little dog was 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 spring?" interrupted Fedya.

"That very one. Walking and not raising his head... And Ulyana recognized him... But then she looks: a woman is walking. She peers and peers—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, has she?"

"But the year hasn't passed yet. And you look at her: how her soul holds on."

All fell silent again. Pavel threw a handful of dry twigs on the fire. They turned sharply black against the suddenly flaring flame, crackled, began smoking and curling, lifting their scorched ends. The reflection of the light struck out, trembling fitfully, in all directions, especially upward. Suddenly, out of nowhere, a white dove flew in—right into this reflection, whirled fearfully in one spot, bathed all over in the hot glow, and disappeared, 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," began Fedya, "did you also see the heavenly portent in Shalamovo?" (This is what our peasants call a solar eclipse.)

"When the sun disappeared? Of course."

"Were you 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, mercy! 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 just flowed. And in our village, brother, such rumors were going 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." (In the belief about "Trishka," the legend of the antichrist is probably echoed.)

"What's this Trishka?" asked Kostya.

"You don't know?" Ilyusha picked up with fervor. "Well, brother, where on earth are you from that you don't know Trishka? Real stay-at-homes you are in your village, that's for sure! 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 you won't be able to catch him, and you won't be able to do anything to him: such a marvelous man he'll be. The peasants, for example, will want to catch him; they'll come out against him with clubs, surround him, but he'll pull the wool over their eyes—pull it over so well 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 crafty man, will tempt the Christian people... well, but you won't be able to do anything to him... Such a marvelous, crafty man he'll be."

"Well, yes," Pavel continued in his unhurried voice, "that's the one. So they were waiting for him at our place. The old folk said that when the heavenly portent begins, Trishka will come. So it began. The whole village poured out into the street, into the field, waiting to see what would happen. And our place, you know, is visible, open. They look—suddenly from the settlement, down the hill, comes some man, such a strange one, with such a marvelous head... Everyone shouts: 'Oh, Trishka's coming! Oh, Trishka's coming!'—and scatters! Our elder dove 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 its 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 murderer, will at least spare a bird.' That's how panicked 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 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 for a long time yet as a soft canopy over the sleeping fields; much time remained before the first babble, before 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 dimly to feel yourself the swift, ceaseless course of the earth...

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

Kostya shuddered. "What's that?"

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

"A heron," repeated Kostya... "But what, Pavlusha, I heard yesterday evening," he added after a brief pause, "you might know..."

"What did you hear?"

"This is what I heard. I was walking from Stone Ridge to Shashkino; and I walked first through our hazel grove, then went through a meadow—you know, where it comes out at a sharp bend—there's a deep hole there, you know, still all overgrown with reeds; well, I was walking past this hole, my brothers, and suddenly from that hole someone groans, and so pitifully, pitifully: oo-oo... oo-oo... oo-oo! Such fear took me, my brothers: it was late, and the voice was so sickly. I felt I could weep myself... What could that have been? Eh?"

"In that hole the year before last 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 they'd drowned Akim in that hole: I would have been even more frightened."

"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 said involuntarily, "screaming like a wood-goblin."

"A wood-goblin doesn't scream, 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, and God save me from seeing him; but others have seen him. 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 daylight."

"Well, did he see him?"

"He saw him. Says he stands there big, big, dark, muffled, sort of like behind a tree, you can't make him out properly, like he's hiding from the moon, and stares, stares with those great eyes, blinks them, blinks..."

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

"And why has such filth bred in the world?" remarked Pavel. "I don't understand, really!"

"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 matting, propped himself on his fist, and slowly raised his large, quiet eyes upward. The eyes of all the boys rose to the sky and didn't lower for a long time.

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

"Well," answered Vanya, slightly lisping.

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

"I don't know."

"You tell her she should come."

"I'll tell her."

"You 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 to drink."

The dogs got up and went with 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. All sorts of things happen: he'll bend down, start scooping water, and the water-spirit will grab him by the hand and drag him down. They'll say later: the boy fell in 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," parting, as we say.

"Is it true," asked Kostya, "that Akulina the fool has been mad since she was in the water?"

"Since then... 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, there at the bottom, ruined her."

(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 spot, 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, "Akulina threw herself in the river because her lover deceived her."

"That's why."

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

"Which Vasya?" asked Fedya.

"Why, the one who drowned," answered Kostya, "in this very river. What a boy he was! Oh, what a boy he was! His mother, Feklista, how she loved him, her Vasya! And it was as if she sensed, Feklista did, that death from water would come to him. When Vasya would go with us, with the boys, in summer to swim in the river—she'd be all in a flutter. The other women don't care, they walk past with their washtubs, waddling along, but Feklista would set her tub on the ground and start calling him: 'Come back, come back, my dear! 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 something like 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, my brothers, and start up a song—remember, Vasya used to sing such a song—well, that's the one she starts up, and she cries and cries, weeps bitterly 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, "bad business."

"What?" Kostya asked hurriedly.

"I heard Vasya's voice."

Everyone shuddered.

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

"By God. I'd just 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 walked 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."

"Ah, that's a bad omen," said Ilyusha with deliberation.

"Well, never mind, let it be!" Pavel pronounced resolutely and sat down again, "you can't avoid your fate."

The boys quieted down. It was evident that 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?"

"There, 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 all around, as everything usually quiets only toward morning: everything slept a deep, still, 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 died down together with the fires... Even the dogs were drowsing; the horses, as far as I could make out in the faintly glimmering, weakly flowing starlight, also lay with lowered heads... A sweet oblivion came over me; it passed into drowsiness.

A fresh stream ran across my face. I opened my eyes: morning was beginning. The dawn wasn't glowing anywhere yet, but the east was already whitening. 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 began to perspire, living sounds and voices began to be heard here and there, and a thin, early breeze was already wandering and fluttering over the earth. My body responded to it with a light, cheerful shiver. I rose briskly 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. I hadn't walked two versts when all 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, shyly turning blue from under the thinning mist—there poured first crimson, then red, golden streams of young, hot light... Everything stirred, awoke, began singing, rustling, speaking. Everywhere large drops of dew sparkled 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")