LITMIR.BIZ

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of? They would let you the best hut in the village for two rubles. What a beast! Why, I’d let you have mine for three!’

      ‘No, I’ll remain here,’ said Olenin.

      ‘Six rubles!... Clearly it’s a fool’s money. Eh, eh, eh! answered the old man. ‘Let’s have some chikhir, Ivan!’

      Having had a snack and a drink of vodka to prepare themselves for the road, Olenin and the old man went out together before eight o’clock.

      At the gate they came up against a wagon to which a pair of oxen were harnessed. With a white kerchief tied round her head down to her eyes, a coat over her smock, and wearing high boots, Maryanka with a long switch in her hand was dragging the oxen by a cord tied to their horns.

      ‘Mammy,’ said the old man, pretending that he was going to seize her.

      Maryanka nourished her switch at him and glanced merrily at them both with her beautiful eyes.

      Olenin felt still more light-hearted.

      ‘Now then, come on, come on,’ he said, throwing his gun on his shoulder and conscious of the girl’s eyes upon him.

      ‘Gee up!’ sounded Maryanka’s voice behind them, followed by the creak of the moving wagon.

      As long as their road lay through the pastures at the back of the village Eroshka went on talking. He could not forget the cornet and kept on abusing him.

      ‘Why are you so angry with him?’ asked Olenin.

      ‘He’s stingy. I don’t like it,’ answered the old man. ‘He’ll leave it all behind when he dies! Then who’s he saving up for? He’s built two houses, and he’s got a second garden from his brother by a law-suit. And in the matter of papers what a dog he is! They come to him from other villages to fill up documents. As he writes it out, exactly so it happens. He gets it quite exact. But who is he saving for? He’s only got one boy and the girl; when she’s married who’ll be left?’

      ‘Well then, he’s saving up for her dowry,’ said Olenin.

      ‘What dowry? The girl is sought after, she’s a fine girl. But he’s such a devil that he must yet marry her to a rich fellow. He wants to get a big price for her. There’s Luke, a Cossack, a neighbour and a nephew of mine, a fine lad. It’s he who killed the Chechen — he has been wooing her for a long time, but he hasn’t let him have her. He’s given one excuse, and another, and a third. “The girl’s too young,” he says. But I know what he is thinking. He wants to keep them bowing to him. He’s been acting shamefully about that girl. Still, they will get her for Lukashka, because he is the best Cossack in the village, a brave, who has killed an abrek and will be rewarded with a cross.’

      ‘But how about this? When I was walking up and down the yard last night, I saw my landlord’s daughter and some Cossack kissing,’ said Olenin.

      ‘You’re pretending!’ cried the old man, stopping.

      ‘On my word,’ said Olenin.

      ‘Women are the devil,’ said Eroshka pondering. ‘But what Cossack was it?’

      ‘I couldn’t see.’

      ‘Well, what sort of a cap had he, a white one?’

      ‘Yes.’

      ‘And a red coat? About your height?’

      ‘No, a bit taller.’

      ‘It’s he!’ and Eroshka burst out laughing. ‘It’s himself, it’s Mark. He is Luke, but I call him Mark for a joke. His very self! I love him. I was just such a one myself. What’s the good of minding them? My sweetheart used to sleep with her mother and her sister-in-law, but I managed to get in. She used to sleep upstairs; that witch her mother was a regular demon; it’s awful how she hated me. Well, I used to come with a chum, Girchik his name was. We’d come under her window and I’d climb on his shoulders, push up the window and begin groping about. She used to sleep just there on a bench. Once I woke her up and she nearly called out. She hadn’t recognized me. “Who is there?” she said, and I could not answer. Her mother was even beginning to stir, but I took off my cap and shoved it over her mouth; and she at once knew it by a seam in it, and ran out to me. I used not to want anything then. She’d bring along clotted cream and grapes and everything,’ added Eroshka (who always explained things practically), ‘and she wasn’t the only one. It was a life!’

      ‘And what now?’

      ‘Now we’ll follow the dog, get a pheasant to settle on a tree, and then you may fire.’

      ‘Would you have made up to Maryanka?’

      ‘Attend to the dogs. I’ll tell you tonight,’ said the old man, pointing to his favourite dog, Lyam.

      After a pause they continued talking, while they went about a hundred paces. Then the old man stopped again and pointed to a twig that lay across the path.

      ‘What do you think of that?’ he said. ‘You think it’s nothing? It’s bad that this stick is lying so.’

      ‘Why is it bad?’

      He smiled.

      ‘Ah, you don’t know anything. Just listen to me. When a stick lies like that don’t you step across it, but go round it or throw it off the path this way, and say “Father and Son and Holy Ghost,” and then go on with God’s blessing. Nothing will happen to you. That’s what the old men used to teach me.’

      ‘Come, what rubbish!’ said Olenin. ‘You’d better tell me more about Maryanka. Does she carry on with Lukashka?’

      ‘Hush... be quiet now!’ the old man again interrupted in a whisper: ‘just listen, we’ll go round through the forest.’

      And the old man, stepping quietly in his soft shoes, led the way by a narrow path leading into the dense, wild, overgrown forest. Now and again with a frown he turned to look at Olenin, who rustled and clattered with his heavy boots and, carrying his gun carelessly, several times caught the twigs of trees that grew across the path.

      ‘Don’t make a noise. Step softly, soldier!’ the old man whispered angrily.

      There was a feeling in the air that the sun had risen. The mist was dissolving but it still enveloped the tops of the trees. The forest looked terribly high. At every step the aspect changed: what had appeared like a tree proved to be a bush, and a reed looked like a tree.

Chapter 19

      The mist had partly lifted, showing the wet reed thatches, and was now turning into dew that moistened the road and the grass beside the fence. Smoke rose everywhere in clouds from the chimneys. The people were going out of the village, some to their work, some to the river, and some to the cordon. The hunters walked together along the damp, grass-grown path. The dogs, wagging their tails and looking at their masters, ran on both sides of them. Myriads of gnats hovered in the air and pursued the hunters, covering their backs, eyes, and hands. The air was fragrant with the grass and with the dampness of the forest. Olenin continually looked round at the ox-cart in which Maryanka sat urging on the oxen with a long switch.

      It was calm. The sounds from the village, audible at first, now no longer reached the sportsmen. Only the brambles cracked as the dogs ran under them, and now and then birds called to one another. Olenin knew that danger lurked in the forest, that abreks always hid in such places. But he knew too that in the forest, for a man on foot, a gun is a great protection. Not that he was afraid, but he felt that another in his place might be; and looking into the damp misty forest and listening to the rare and faint sounds with strained attention, he changed his hold on his gun and experienced a pleasant feeling that was new to him. Daddy Eroshka went in front, stopping and carefully scanning every puddle where an animal had left a double track, and pointing it out to Olenin. He hardly spoke at all and only occasionally made remarks in a whisper. The track they were following had once been made

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