来自：A Sportsman's Sketches
"Well, so how did you hear him?" asked Fedya.
"Like this. My brother Avdyushka and I had to spend the night at the paper mill with Fyodor Mikheyevsky, and Ivashka the Cross-eyed, and another Ivashka from Red Hills, and Ivashka Sukhorukov too, and there were other boys there; there were about ten of us boys altogether—the whole shift, in fact. We had to spend the night at the paper mill, not exactly that we had to, but Nazarov, the overseer, forbade us—he says: 'What's the point of you boys traipsing home? There's a lot of work tomorrow, so you boys don't go home.' So we stayed and were lying there all together, and Avdyushka started saying: 'Boys, what if the house spirit comes?'... And no sooner had he—Avdey that is—said this, than 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 under him are bending and creaking. Then he passed over our heads; the water suddenly started rushing over the wheel, rushing and rushing; the wheel started knocking and turning; but the sluice gates at the mill race {At our place, the 'mill race' is what we call the channel through which water runs onto the wheel. (I.S. Turgenev's note.)} were down. We wondered: who raised them to let the water through? But the wheel turned and turned, then stopped. That one went to the door upstairs again and started coming down the stairs, taking his time, you could tell; the steps under him were actually groaning... Well, he came to our door, waited, waited—then the door suddenly flew wide open. We were terrified, we looked—nothing... Suddenly we see: at one of the vats, the mold {The screen used for scooping paper. (I.S. Turgenev's note.)} started moving, lifted up, dipped, moved through the air like someone was rinsing it, then went back in its place. Then at another vat, a hook came off its nail and went back on the nail; then it was like someone went to the door and suddenly started coughing and choking, like a sheep or something, and so loudly... We all piled on top of each other in a heap, crawling under one another... Boy, were we scared at that moment!"
"Well I'll be!" said Pavel. "Why did he start coughing?"
"Don't know; maybe from the dampness."
Everyone fell silent.
"So," asked Fedya, "are the potatoes cooked?"
Pavlusha felt them.
"No, still raw... Listen, it splashed," he added, turning his face toward the river, "must be a pike... And there's a shooting star."
"No, let me tell you something, brothers," began Kostya in a 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 carpenter from the settlement?"
"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 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! can't find the way; and it was already night. So he sat down under a tree; 'I'll wait,' he says, 'till morning'—he sat down and dozed off. So he dozed off and suddenly hears someone calling him. He looks—nobody. He dozed off again—called again. He looks again: and there in front of him on a branch sits a rusalka, swinging and calling him to her, and she's dying of laughter, laughing... And the moon was shining strongly, so strongly, the moon was shining clearly—everything, my brothers, was visible. So she's calling him, and she herself is all bright, all white sitting on the branch, like some roach or gudgeon—or else sometimes there are carp like that, whitish, silvery... Gavrila the carpenter froze, my brothers, but she just kept laughing and calling him to her with her hand. Gavrila was about to get up, was about to obey the rusalka, my brothers, but the Lord must have put the thought in his head: 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 just like stone, wouldn't move... Ah, the devil!.. So when he made the sign of 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, you forest creature?' And the rusalka says to him: 'If you hadn't crossed yourself, man, you would have lived with me in merriment till the end of your days; and I'm crying, I'm grieving because you crossed yourself; but I won't be the only one grieving: grieve yourself 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 been gloomy."
"Well!" said Fedya after a brief silence, "but how can such a forest demon spoil a Christian soul—he didn't obey her, did he?"
"There you go!" said Kostya. "And Gavrila said that her voice, he says, was so thin, plaintive, like a toad's."
"Did your father tell this himself?" continued Fedya.
"Himself. I was lying on the sleeping shelf, I heard everything."
"A strange thing! Why should he be gloomy?... Well, I guess he pleased her, since she called him."
"Yes, pleased her!" picked up Ilyusha. "I'll say! She wanted to tickle him to death, that's what she wanted. That's their way, those rusalkas."
"And I suppose there must be rusalkas here too," remarked Fedya.
"No," answered Kostya, "this is a clean place, open. Except—the river's close."
Everyone became quiet. Suddenly, somewhere in the distance, a long, ringing, almost moaning sound rang out, one of those incomprehensible night sounds that sometimes arise in 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 for a long, long time under the very horizon, as if someone else answered him in the forest with thin, sharp laughter, and a weak, hissing whistle rushed along the river. The boys exchanged glances, shuddered...
"May the cross protect us!" whispered Ilya.
"Eh, you crows!" shouted Pavel. "Why are you scared? Look, the potatoes are cooked." (Everyone moved closer to the pot and began eating the steaming potatoes; only Vanya didn't move.) "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 the other day at our Varnavitsy?"
"At the dam?" asked Fedya.
"Yes, yes, at the dam, at the broken one. That's a bad place, so bad, and so desolate. All around there are ravines, gullies, and in the gullies all kinds of snakes {In Oryol dialect: serpents. (I.S. Turgenev's note.)} live."
"Well, what happened? Tell us..."
"Here's what happened. You, Fedya, maybe don't know, but there's a drowned man 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, he says, to the post office, Ermil.' 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 lived, and he's a good dog keeper, has everything. So Ermil went for the post and lingered in town, but when he's riding back he's already drunk. And it's night, a bright night: the moon is shining... So Ermil is riding across the dam: that's how his road went. So he's riding like that, the dog keeper Ermil, and he sees: on the drowned man's grave there's a lamb, white, curly, pretty, walking about. So Ermil thinks: 'I'll take him—why should he perish like that,' so 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 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 to him: 'Baa, baa!'..."
No sooner had the storyteller uttered these last words than suddenly both dogs jumped up at once, rushed away from the fire with convulsive barking, and disappeared into the darkness. All the boys were frightened. Vanya jumped out from under his mat. Pavlusha with a shout rushed after the dogs. Their barking quickly receded... The anxious running of the startled herd could be heard. Pavlusha was shouting loudly: "Gray! Zhuchka!.." In a few moments the barking ceased; Pavel's voice came from far away now... A little more time passed; the boys exchanged puzzled looks, as if waiting to see what would happen... Suddenly the sound of a galloping horse rang out; it stopped sharply 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?" asked the boys.
"Nothing," answered Pavel, waving his hand at the horse, "the dogs just caught a scent of something. I thought it was a wolf," he added in an indifferent voice, breathing heavily with his whole chest.
I involuntarily admired Pavlusha. He was very fine at that moment. His plain face, animated by the quick 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 timid Kostya.
"There are always plenty of them here," answered Pavel, "but they're only troublesome in winter."
He settled down again by the fire. Sitting on the ground, he laid his hand on the shaggy neck 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 buried himself under the mat again.
"What scary stories you were telling us, Ilyushka," began Fedya, who, as the son of a wealthy peasant, had to be the leader (though he himself spoke little, as if afraid of lowering his dignity). "And the devil made the dogs start barking... But it's true, I've heard that place of yours is unclean."
"Varnavitsy?... I'll say! really unclean! They say the old master has been seen there many times—the late master. He walks around, they say, in a long-skirted caftan, always moaning like this, looking for something on the ground. Grandfather Trofimych met him once: 'What, he says, father, Ivan Ivanovich, are you pleased to be looking for on the ground?'"
"He asked him that?" interrupted the astonished Fedya.
"Yes, he asked."
"Well, Trofimych is brave after that... So what did he say?"
"'I'm looking,' he says, 'for rupture-grass.' And he spoke so hollowly, so hollowly: 'Rupture-grass.' 'And what do you need rupture-grass for, father Ivan Ivanovich?' 'The grave,' he says, 'is pressing, Trofimych: I want out, I want out...'"
"What a thing!" remarked Fedya, "didn't live long enough, it seems."
"What a wonder!" said Kostya. "I thought you could only see the dead on Ancestors' Saturday."
"You can see the dead any time," Ilyusha picked up with assurance, who, as far as I could tell, knew all the village superstitions best... "But on Ancestors' 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 looking at the road. Those who are to die that year will pass by you on the road. Last year our woman Ulyana went to the porch."
"Well, and did she see anyone?" asked Kostya with curiosity.
"Of course. First she sat for a long, long time, didn't see or hear anyone... just kept hearing something like a dog barking somewhere... Suddenly she looks: a boy is walking along the path in just a shirt. She looked closer—Ivashka Fedoseyev is walking..."
"The one who died in spring?" interrupted Fedya.
"That very one. He's walking and doesn't raise his head... And Ulyana recognized him... But then she looks: a woman is walking. She peered and peered—oh Lord!—she herself is walking along the road, Ulyana herself."
"Really herself?" asked Fedya.
"God's truth, 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 does her soul stay in her body."
Everyone fell silent again. Pavel threw a handful of dry twigs on the fire. They suddenly turned black against the flaring flame, crackled, began to smoke and curl, raising their scorched ends. The reflection of light struck out in all directions, trembling convulsively, especially upward. Suddenly, out of nowhere, a white dove flew straight into this reflection, whirled about fearfully in one place, bathed all over in the hot gleam, and disappeared, wings ringing.
"Must have strayed from home," remarked Pavel. "Now it'll fly until it hits something, and where it hits, there it'll spend the night till dawn."
"So, 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. (I.S. Turgenev's note.)}
"When the sun disappeared? Of course."
"I suppose you were frightened too?"
"We weren't the only ones. Our master, even though he explained to us beforehand that there would be this portent, when it got dark, they say he got so scared himself, you wouldn't believe it. And in the servants' hut, the cook woman, as soon as it got dark, listen to this, she took the poker 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 ran all over. 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, and they'd even see Trishka himself." {The belief about "Trishka" probably echoes the legend of the Antichrist. (I.S. Turgenev's note.)}
"What's this Trishka?" asked Kostya.
"Don't you know?" Ilyusha picked up eagerly. "Well, brother, where are you from that you don't know about Trishka? Real stay-at-homes in your village, that's for sure, real stay-at-homes! Trishka—he'll be such an amazing man who will come; and he'll come when the last times arrive. And he'll be such an amazing man 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 man. The peasants will want to catch him, for example; they'll go out after him with clubs, surround him, but he'll pull the wool over their eyes—pull it over so they'll beat each other. They'll put him in prison, 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, this cunning man, will tempt the Christian people... 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 him. So they were expecting him at our place. The old folks 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 at our place, you know, it's an open spot, you can see far. They look—suddenly from the settlement, down the hill, some person is coming, such a strange one, with such an amazing 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, scared her own yard dog so much that it broke off its chain, jumped the fence, and ran 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 a bird.' That's how much everyone panicked!.. 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 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 babbling, 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 rivalry, in the direction of the Milky Way, and truly, looking at them, you seemed to feel dimly yourself the impetuous, ceaseless movement of the earth...
A strange, harsh, painful cry rang out suddenly twice in succession over the river and, a few moments later, was repeated farther away...
Kostya shuddered. "What's that?"
"That's a heron crying," Pavel answered calmly.
"A heron," repeated Kostya... "But what was it, Pavlusha, that I heard yesterday evening," he added after a brief pause, "you might know..."
"What did you hear?"
"Here's what I heard. I was walking from Stone Ridge to Shashkino; and I walked first all through our hazel grove, then went through a meadow—you know, where it comes out at the steep bend {A steep bend is a sharp turn in a ravine. (I.S. Turgenev's note.)}—there's a deep pool there {A deep pool is a deep pit with spring water left over from the flood, which doesn't dry up even in summer. (I.S. Turgenev's note.)}, you know; it's still all overgrown with reeds, you know; so I'm walking past this pool, my brothers, and suddenly from that very pool someone starts moaning, and so pitifully, so 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 could have cried myself... What could that have been? Eh?"
"In that pool, thieves drowned Akim the forester the year before last," remarked Pavel, "so maybe it was his soul complaining."
"Well, that could be it, my brothers," answered Kostya, widening his already enormous eyes... "I didn't know that Akim was drowned in that pool: I would have been even more frightened."
"But then, they say there are such tiny frogs," Pavel continued, "that cry so pitifully."
"Frogs? Well, no, that wasn't frogs... what kind of... (The heron cried again over the river.) Ugh!" Kostya involuntarily exclaimed, "it's like a wood goblin crying."
"The wood goblin doesn't cry, he's mute," Ilyusha picked up, "he only claps his hands and rattles..."
"Have you seen him, the wood goblin?" Fedya mockingly interrupted him.
"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 and led him through the forest, all around one clearing... He barely made it home by daylight."
"Well, and did he see him?"
"He saw him. He says he stood there big, big, dark, wrapped up, like behind a tree, you couldn't make him out clearly, like hiding from the moon, and looking, looking 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?" 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—like bees swarming!"
He stuck his fresh little face out from under the mat, propped himself on his fist, and slowly raised his large, gentle eyes upward. All the boys' eyes rose to the sky and didn't lower soon.
"So, Vanya," Fedya began tenderly, "how is your sister Anyutka, is she well?"
"She's well," answered Vanya with a slight lisp.
"Tell her—why doesn't she come to see us?..."
"I don't know."
"Tell her she should come."
"I'll tell her."
"Tell her I'll give her a present."
"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."
And Vanya laid his head on the ground again. Pavel stood up and took the empty pot in his hand.
"Where are you going?" Fedya asked him.
"To the river, to get some water: I want a drink."
The dogs got up and followed him.
"Watch you don't fall in the river!" Ilyusha called after him.
"Why 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 spirit will grab him by the hand and drag him down to his place. Then they'll say: the boy fell into the water, they'll say... What do you mean fell?.. There he goes, 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?"
"After that... What she's like now! But they say she used to be a beauty. The water spirit spoiled her. Must not have expected them to pull her out so soon. So he spoiled her there at the bottom."
(I myself had met this Akulina more than once. Covered in rags, terribly thin, with a face black as coal, a clouded gaze, and eternally bared teeth, she stamps for hours in one place, somewhere on the road, pressing her bony hands tightly to her chest and slowly shifting from foot to foot, like a wild beast in a cage. She understands nothing 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! My, what a boy! His mother, Feklista, how she loved him, Vasya! And it was like she sensed it, Feklista did, that he would perish from water. Sometimes Vasya would go with us, with the boys, to swim in the river in summer—she'd be all in a flutter. The other women don't care, they walk by with their washtubs, waddling along, but Feklista would put her tub down on the ground and start calling him: 'Come back,' she'd say, 'come back, my dear! Oh, come back, my falcon!' And how he drowned, the Lord knows. He was playing on the bank, and his mother was right there, raking hay; suddenly she hears something like bubbles going up through 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—so she'll start that one up, and she cries, cries, complains 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, "not good."
"What is it?" Kostya asked hurriedly.
"I heard Vasya's voice."
Everyone shuddered.
"What do you mean, what do you mean?" stammered Kostya.
"God's truth. I just bent down to the water, and suddenly I hear someone calling me in Vasya's voice and like from under the water: 'Pavlusha, oh Pavlusha!' I listen; and he calls again: 'Pavlusha, come here.' I stepped back. But I got the water anyway."
"Oh Lord! Oh Lord!" said the boys, crossing themselves.
"That was the water spirit calling you, Pavel," added Fedya... "And we were just talking about him, about Vasya."
"Oh, that's a bad omen," Ilyusha pronounced 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 obvious that Pavel's words had made a deep impression on them. They began settling down before the fire, as if getting ready 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 finally rose; 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 around, as everything usually quiets only toward morning: everything slept with 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 died away along with the fires... Even the dogs were dozing; the horses, as far as I could make out in the faintly glimmering, weakly flowing starlight, were also lying with heads lowered... Sweet oblivion fell 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 whitening in the east. Everything became visible, though dimly visible, all around. The pale gray sky was brightening, growing cold, turning blue; the stars now twinkled with weak light, now disappeared; the earth grew damp, leaves became dewy, living sounds and voices began to be heard here and there, and a thin, early breeze was already beginning to wander and flutter over the earth. My body answered it with a light, cheerful shiver. I quickly got up and went to the boys. They were all sleeping like the dead around the smoldering fire; only Pavel raised himself halfway and looked at me intently.
I nodded to him and walked away along the smoking river. Before I had gone two versts, streams were already pouring all around me across the wide 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 shyly turning blue from under the thinning mist—first scarlet, then red, golden streams of young, hot light poured out... Everything began to stir, awaken, sing, rustle, 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, unfortunately, that Pavel died that same year. He didn't drown: he was killed falling from a horse. A pity, he was a fine lad!
Biryuk
(From the cycle "A Sportsman's Sketches")