Chapter 13 "Prairie" VI

six The van stayed by the river all day, and waited until the sun went down before starting from where it was. Yegorushka lay again on the wool bales, and the wagon creaked softly and shook.Panteile walked below, stamping his feet, patting his thighs, and chattering.The music of the prairie sounded in the air, just like yesterday. Yegorushka lay on his back, put his hands under his head, and looked up at the sky.He saw how brilliant the sunset was, and then how it faded away.Covering the horizon with golden wings, the guardian angel is ready to sleep for the night.The day passed peacefully, and the night came in quiet and peace, and the angels could rest in peace in their homes in heaven. ... Yegorushka saw the sky gradually darken, shadows fell on the earth, and the stars lighted up one after another.

Whenever I keep my eyes on the deep sky for a long time, then for some reason, thoughts and feelings merge into a feeling of loneliness. People began to feel an irremediable loneliness, and everything that was usually close and intimate became infinitely distant and worthless.Those stars that have been looking down on the earth from the sky for thousands of years, the sky and the shadows, which are incomprehensible in themselves and at the same time indifferent to the short life of man, use them when man comes face to face with them and tries to understand their meaning. His silence oppresses the soul.

The loneliness that awaits each of us in the grave comes to the heart, and the essence of life appears hopeless and terrifying. ... Yegorushka thought of his grandmother, who was now sleeping under the cherry tree in the cemetery, and how she lay in the coffin, with two five-copeck pieces on her eyes, and how they had covered her afterward. Putting her on the coffin and putting her into the grave, he still remembered the muffled sound of small pieces of earth falling on the coffin lid. ...He imagined his grandmother lying in a dark and narrow coffin, alone and unattended.His imagination pictured how grandma woke up suddenly, not knowing where she was, knocking on the lid of the coffin, calling for help, and then dying again, weak with fear.He imagined his mother dead, Father Christopher, Countess Dranitskaya, Solomon.But no matter how much he tried to imagine himself far away from home, helpless and alone, sleeping dead in a dark tomb, he could not imagine what it would be like.Personally, he denied the possibility of his own death and felt that he would never die. ... But Panteley, who had already reached the damn hour, was walking around below, counting his thoughts.

"It's not bad,...it's a good master..." He murmured. "His boy was taken to school; but how he was over there, we don't know. . . . In Slavyannoselbsk, I mean, there isn't a single school there that can teach you anything.  … ...No, that's true. But that boy is good, very good. . . . When he grows up, he will be his father's helper. . . . , to support your parents....God has ordained it....'Honor your father and your mother.'...I had children myself, but they were all burned to death....My wife was burned to death , children were burnt to death. . . . It is true that on the night of the Epiphany, our little wooden house caught fire. . . . I was not at home at the time, and I drove to Orel. . . . Maria rushed out of the house into the street, but remembering that the child was still sleeping in the house, she ran back and was burned to death with the child.

……yes. ...the next day they found only broken bones. " Around midnight the coachmen and Yegorushka were again sitting around a small bonfire. When the weeds burned, Kiruha and Vasya went somewhere in the ravine to fetch water.They disappeared into the darkness, but the tinkling of their iron buckets and their voices could be heard all the time, so the ravine must not be far away.The flames of the bonfire spread a large area of ​​flickering light spots on the ground. Although the moon was in the sky, it seemed to be pitch black beyond the flames, and nothing could be seen.The light shone into the eyes of the coachmen, who saw only part of the road.The wagons, laden with bales and harnessed to horses, were barely visible in the dark, like a great shapeless mountain range.Twenty paces from the bonfire, where the avenue meets the field, stood a wooden cross of a grave, tilted to one side.Yegorushka, before the bonfire was lit, and when he could still see something in the distance, noticed that on the other side of the avenue there was an old cross likewise crooked.

Kiruha and Vasya returned with water, filled the pot, and set it on the fire. Styopka, with the chipped spoon in his hand, stood in the smoke beside the pot, staring at the water, waiting for the foam to rise.Sitting side by side, Panteley and Yemeliyan were silent, wondering what they were thinking.Dymov lay prone on the ground, resting his head on his fists, looking at the fire, and Styopka's shadow danced over him, so that his pretty face was now covered in darkness, and now suddenly flushed. ... Kiruha and Vasya were walking not far away, gathering weeds and birch bark for the fire.Yegorushka stood beside Panteley with his hands in his pockets and watched the weeds gobbled up by the fire.

Everyone was resting, thinking about something, and took a quick look at the cross. Pieces of red light were dancing on the cross.The lonely tomb looks melancholy, as if in meditation, very poetic. ... How still the tomb looks, and in this stillness it is felt that there exists the soul of a man whose life is unknown, lying at the foot of the cross.Does that soul feel good on the prairie?Isn't it sad on a moonlit night?Near the tomb, the grassland also looks melancholy, desolate, and thoughtful, the grass is sad, and the calls of the katydids seem to be more restrained. . . . There is not a passer who does not remember the lonely soul who keeps looking back at the grave till it is far behind and hidden in the mist. ... "Grandfather, why is there a cross?" asked Yegorushka.

Panteley looked at the cross, then at Dymov, and asked: "Mykola, isn't this the place where the mowers killed the merchants earlier?" Dimov managed to get himself up on his elbows, looked at the road, and replied: "This is the place. . . . " There was silence.Kiruha broke off some dead grass, crumpled it up, and stuffed it under the pot.The fire grew hotter.Styopka was shrouded in black smoke, and the shadow of the cross ran to and fro in the dim light beside the trucks on the boulevard. "By the way, they killed him..." Dymov said reluctantly. "There were two merchants, my father and my son, who went in a cart to sell idols. They took up residence at an inn not far from here, which is now kept by Ignat Fermin. The old man was drunk. Liquor, boasting that he had a lot of money with him. We all know that merchants are big talkers, please God don't let us fall into that. . . . They are in front of us. I can't help but pretend to be extravagant.

Some lawnmowers were spending the night at the inn.They heard all the boast of the merchant, and they became interested. " "O Lord! . . . Our Lady!" sighed Panteley. "The next day, at first light," Dymov went on, "the merchants are ready to go, and the mower wants to go with them.' Let's go together, sir. It will be more lively and less dangerous this way, because This is a remote place...' In order not to damage the statue, the merchant had to walk, which was exactly what the mower wanted. ..." Dymov got up, knelt down, and stretched. "Yeah," he continued, yawning. "It was safe and sound at first, but when the merchants came to this place, the lawn mower picked up the sickle and dealt with them. The son, a strong young man, snatched a sickle from one of them and chopped it back. . . . Then, of course, those fellows got it, because there were eight of them. They hacked the two merchants so that there was no good place left. When they were done, they took the two off the road, Pull the father to one side of the avenue, and the son to the other side. There is another cross on the roadside opposite this cross....Whether that cross is still there or not, then I don't know....I'm here to see not see."

"Still," Kiruha said. "It is said that they only found a small amount of money afterwards." "Very little," Panteley affirmed. "Only found a hundred rubles." "By the way, three of them died later, because the merchant cut them very hard with the scythe too. . He was found on a hill near the village of Kurikovo on the Ori Road. He was squatting with his head on his knees, as if thinking about something, but when he looked closely, he had died. . . . " "They found him by following the blood on the road, . . . " said Panteley. Everyone looked at the cross and fell silent again.From nowhere, probably from the other side of the ravine, came the mournful cry of a bird: "I'm asleep! I'm asleep!

..." "There are many bad people in the world," said Emelyan. "There's more, there's more!" Panteley said firmly, moving a little closer to the fire, with an air of fear. "There are many," he continued in a low voice. "I have seen many people like that in my life.... Bad people....I have seen many decent people and well-behaved people. There are countless sinful people....Holy Mother, save us, have mercy on us Well... I remember that about thirty years ago, maybe not more than thirty years ago, I drove a merchant in Morshyansk. That businessman...he is a good man, very nice...that's it, we went to an inn for the night. Russian inns are different from those around here.There, a canopy is put up in the yard, like a shed, or rather, like a barn on a rich man's estate.Only the barn is a little taller.Well, we stayed there, and it was fine.My merchant shared a room, and I lived with the horses, and everything was in order.That's it, guys, I'll say my prayers before I go to sleep, and take a stroll in the yard.It was dark that night, and it was useless to see anything.I walked like this for a while, and then went back to the truck, and when I was about to reach it, I suddenly saw a flash of light.How is this going?The boss and the clerk seemed to have gone to bed early, and there were no other guests in the inn except the merchant and me. ...Where did the light come from?I became suspicious. ... I go, ... to the light. ... Lord have mercy on me!Our Lady save me!When I took a look, it turned out that there was a small window near the ground, with an iron grill outside,...under the main room. ... I lay down on the ground and looked in; it didn't matter what I looked at, my whole body was cold. ..." Kiruha tried his best not to make a sound and stuffed a handful of weeds into the fire. The old man waited for the branches to crackle, crack, burst, and sizzled, and then continued: "I looked there, it turned out that It's a cellar, so big, dark, and gloomy. ... There was a bucket with a little lantern on it.In the middle of the cellar stood a dozen or so men, wearing red shirts with their sleeves rolled up, sharpening long knives. ……oops! It turned out that we lived in a black shop and fell into a den of robbers! ……This is how to do?I ran up to the merchant, woke him softly, and said, "Don't be afraid, merchant," I said, "but things are not going well with us. . . . We've fallen into a den of robbers," said I. His countenance changed suddenly, and he asked: "What shall we do now, Panteley? I have a lot of orphan money. . . . As for my life," he said, "God will do." I'm not afraid of death, but I'm afraid of losing the orphan's money,' he said. What can I do? The gate is locked. I can't get out by car or on foot. . . . If there is a wall, then It's easy to turn over, but there's a canopy over the yard!...'Hey, Merchant, don't be afraid,' I said, 'Pray to God. Maybe the Lord won't let orphans suffer. Just stay here Well,' said I, 'don't make a fuss, while I'm at it, maybe I'll think of something. . . . Climb up into the wagon, softly... softly, so no one could hear, pulled the straw off the roof, dug a little hole, crawled out... crawled out....then I jumped off the roof, along the way I ran like hell on the road. I ran and ran, and I was exhausted. . . . I ran about five versts, maybe more. . . Thank God, I saw a village ahead. I ran Go to a farmhouse and knock on the window. 'O Orthodox Christians,' I said, and told them the whole story, 'don't let Christian souls be destroyed. . . . ' I woke them all up. ... The peasants are assembled, come with me. ...some hold a rope, some hold a stick, some hold a pitchfork. ... We broke through the gate of the inn and went straight to the cellar. ... The robbers had just finished sharpening their knives and were on their way to kill the merchant.The peasants seized them, none escaped, tied them up, and led them to the magistrate.The merchants were so happy that they gave them three hundred rubles, gave me five gold coins, and wrote down my name as a souvenir.It is said that a lot of human bones were found in the cellar later.human bones. ... It can be seen that they robbed people of their money and buried their bodies so as not to leave any traces. ... Well, then, in Morshyansk, they had the executioners clean up. " After Panteley had finished telling the story, he looked around at the audience.They looked at him in silence.The water was already boiling, and Styopka was skimming the foam. "Is the oil ready?" Kiruha asked him in a low voice. "Wait a minute. . . and get it right away." Styopka kept his eyes on Panteley, and ran to the van, as if afraid that in his absence Panteley would start another story.Presently he returned with a small wooden bowl in which he began to grind up the hog fat. "Another time, too, I was traveling with a merchant..." went on Panteley, in the same low voice as before, with blind eyes. "His name, I still remember, was Peter Grigor Leach. He's a nice guy.... The businessman... We live in the same inn too.... He lives in a small room, and I sleep with the horse.... The owner and his wife seem to be very nice and friendly. Guys, it seems all right. But, buddy, I can't sleep, my heart is coming out! It's coming out, that's it. The door is open, there are many people around, but I still seem to be scared and uneasy. Everyone I've gone to sleep. It's late. It's time to get up soon, but I'm lying alone in the carriage, and I can't close my eyes, as if I were an owl. Then, boys, I heard this voice: "Boom! Boom!Boom! ' Someone came quietly up to the carriage.I poked my head out and saw that it was a country woman, wearing only a shirt and bare feet. ...'What's the matter with you, sister-in-law? 'I asked.As for her, she was trembling all over, and her face was flustered. ...'Get up, good man! ’ she said, ‘Damn it! ... The boss and the others have bad intentions. ...they're going to kill that businessman of yours. ' She said, 'I heard the boss and the boss's wife chatting with each other. ...'Sure enough, my worries were not in vain! 'Who are you? 'I asked. 'I'm his cook,' she said. ……it is good! ... I will get out of the carriage and go to the merchant.I woke him up and told him everything, saying: "Peter Grigoritch, something is wrong. . . . Go to sleep later, sir, and get dressed while there is still time," I said, "Let's avoid the disaster as soon as possible..." As soon as he put on his clothes, the door opened, amazing!... I saw it this way, the Holy Mother! The innkeeper and his wife came into our room with three hands. ... It seems that they are also colluding with the workers. 'This merchant has a lot of money, take it out and share it with everyone,' they said. ...these five men were holding long knives in their hands. ... long knife. . . . The proprietor locked the door, and said, "Pray to God, traveler. . . . If you cry out," said he, "we'll stop you from praying at your deathbed." ...'Who can call it out!We were so frightened that our throats were blocked, and we couldn't even shout. ... The merchant cried and said: "Orthodox! You are determined to kill me," he said, "because of my money. Then kill if you want, because I am neither the first nor the last, Many of us merchants have been murdered in the inn. But, friends,' said he, 'why kill my coachman? Why make him suffer for my money? ' he said so bitterly!But the boss said to him, "If we let him live," he said, "then he'll be the first to denounce us," he said. One sin, one bad luck. . . . Pray to God, that's all you can do, don't talk nonsense!' The merchant and I knelt down side by side and wept to God. He thought of his children. I was young then, to live. ... We looked at the statue and prayed, and it was so sad that even looking back on it now, we are weeping. ... The proprietress that woman looked at us and said, "You are good people," she said. We prayed and prayed, wept and wept, but God heard our voices. He must have pity on us.... The boss just grabbed the merchant by the beard and was about to cut his neck with a knife, when suddenly the courtyard Someone knocked on the window! We were all startled, and the boss's hand was put down. ...someone knocked on the window and shouted: "Peter Grigoritch, are you here? Pack it up and let's go! 'Boss and the others saw someone coming to look for the businessman, they got scared and slipped away. ... We hurried to the yard, harnessed the horses to the cart, and disappeared after a while. ... "" Who knocked on the window? ' asked Dymov. "Knock on the window? Must be a saint or an angel. No one else. . . . There was no one on the street when we drove out of the yard. . . . God did it!" Panteley told other stories.In all his stories, "the long knife" always appears, and it sounds like it's all made up of nonsense.Had he heard these stories from others, or had he made them up a long time ago, and later his memory was poor, and he confused experience with fantasy, and couldn't tell the two apart?This is all possible, but there is one thing that is strange: this time, and every time he tells stories along the way, he is only willing to tell some clearly fabricated stories, but never mentions the real experience.At that time Yegorushka took those stories for real and believed every word.Later, he secretly felt strange: such a person, who has traveled all over Russia in his life, has learned so much, his wife and children have been burned alive, yet he despises his rich life so much. Or just talk about things that never happened. When they were drinking porridge, they were all silent, thinking only about the story they had just heard.Life is terrible and strange, so no matter how terrible a story is told in Russia, no matter what robber's den, long knife, or miracle of every kind is used to adorn it, the story will always arouse real feelings in the soul of the listener, Perhaps only a learned man would squint suspiciously, but even he would be silent.The roadside crosses, the black bales of wool, the vast plain, the fate of those gathered around the campfires, were all so strange and terrible in themselves that the grotesques of legend and myth paled and confused with life. Everyone gathered around the pot to eat, except Panteley sitting aside, drinking porridge from a small wooden bowl.His spoon was different from others', being made of cypress wood with a little cross on it.Yegorushka looked at him, remembered the lamp for the cup, and asked Styopka softly: "Why is the old man sitting by himself?" "He's an old believer," Styopka and Vasya answered in low voices, speaking as if they were speaking of a shortcoming or a secret vice. Everyone was silent, thinking about things.After hearing those terrible stories, no one wants to tell ordinary things.In the silence Vasya straightened up suddenly, fixed his dull eyes on one spot, and pricked up his ears. "What's the matter?" Dymov asked him. "Someone is coming," Vasya replied. "Where did you see him?" "Over there! There's something whitish. . . . " On the side Vasya was looking at, nothing could be seen but darkness.Everyone listened quietly, but no footsteps were heard. "He came from the road?" asked Dymov. "No, from the wilderness. . . . this way." A minute passed in silence. "Perhaps the businessman buried there is strolling on the steppe," Dymov said. Everyone squinted at the cross, looked at each other, and suddenly burst into laughter; they were ashamed of their fear. "Why did he come out?" asked Panteley. "Only those who walk at night are those whom the earth refuses to take. Those two merchants are all right. . . . The two merchants have been crowned with martyrs' thorns. . . . " But suddenly they heard footsteps.Someone came in a hurry. "What is he carrying," said Vasya. They began to hear the grass rustling under the feet of the approaching man, and the weeds crackling.But nothing could be seen beyond the light of the campfire.At the end, the footsteps approached, and someone coughed.The flickering light seemed to give way, and the matter finally became clear, and the coachmen suddenly saw a person standing in front of them. I don't know if it was because the fire was shaking or because everyone wanted to see the person's face clearly first. In short, it was very strange. The first thing they saw was not his face or his clothes, but his face. smile.It was a very kind, open, gentle smile, like that of a baby just woken up, and it was such an infectious smile that it was hard not to smile back.After everyone saw it clearly, they realized that the stranger was a man in his thirties. He was ugly and had nothing outstanding.He was a tall Ukrainian with a long nose, long arms, and long legs.He looks long everywhere except his very short neck, which makes his back a little stooped.He wore a clean white shirt with an embroidered neckline, white loose trousers, and new high boots. Compared with the coachmen, he looked like a young master.He was holding something big and white and odd looking at first, and the barrel of a gun sticking out from behind his shoulder was also long. He walked from the darkness into the circle of light, and stood still, as if rooted in the ground. For half a minute he looked at the drivers, as if to say, "Look, what a pretty smile I have!" Then he took a step towards the fire, and with a wider smile, said, "Bread and salt, boys!" "Welcome!" Panteley replied on behalf of everyone. The stranger placed the object in his arms (it turned out to be a dead bustard) by the fire, and once more greeted them. Everyone went to the bustard and began to look at it carefully. "What a bird! What did you kill it with?" asked Dymov. "Big grit. . . . Shots won't hit it, it's not easy to get to. . . . Buy it, boys! I'll sell it to you for twenty kopecks." "What's the use of it? It's best eaten roasted. If you cook it, it will probably harden and you won't be able to bite it..." "Oh, it's terrible! If you take it to the manor They'll give me half a ruble if I go to the master's. But it's a long way, fifteen versts!" The man of unknown origin sits down, takes down the gun, and lays it beside him.He seemed to be sleepy, out of energy, smiling, his eyes narrowed by the light from the fire, probably remembering something happy.They handed him a spoon.He eats. "Who are you?" Dymov asked him. The stranger did not hear the question.He didn't answer, didn't even look at Dymov.The grinning man probably didn't taste the porridge, for he drank somewhat languidly and unconsciously, before lifting the spoon to his lips, which was sometimes quite full and sometimes quite empty.He wasn't drunk, but something absurd was floating around in his head. "I'm asking you: who are you?" Dymov asked again. "Me?" The person of unknown origin was startled and said. "Konstantin Zvernek, from Rivne. About four versts from here." Konstantin wanted to hasten to show that he was not a farmer like them, but a higher class, so he hastily added: "We have bee farms, and we also raise pigs." "Do you live with Dad, or have you been single?" "Now I'm living alone, and we're separated. This month, after St. Peter's Day, I'm married! Now I'm married! . . . It's been eighteen days since the wedding." "Good!" said Panteley. "It's a good marriage. . . . God blesses you. . . . " "The young wife stays at home and sleeps, but he wanders on the steppe," laughed Kiruha. "wack!" Konstantin shuddered as though someone had pinched him where he was most afraid of pain, laughed and blushed. ... "But Lord, she's not at home!" he said hastily, removing the spoon from his lips, and looking over all the people with an expression of joy and wonder, "she's not at home, she's going back to her mother's house for two days! Really, She's gone, and I'm as if I'm not married..." Constantine waved his hands and shook his head.He intended to continue thinking, but the joy on his face prevented him from thinking.As if he was uncomfortable sitting, he changed his position, laughed, and shook his hand again.He was ashamed to tell strangers about his happy thoughts, but he couldn't help but want to tell others about his own joy. "She's gone to see her mother in Demidovo!" he said, blushing, and put the gun in another place. "She'll be back tomorrow. . . . She says she's coming back for lunch." "Are you bored?" Dymov asked. "Oh, Lord, what do you think it's going to be? We were married a few days, and she went away. ...isn't it?Oh, but she's a lively girl, and God punish me if I'm wrong!She is so good, so charming, so laughing and singing, she is a fire!When she was with me, my mind was bewildered, but when she was gone, I lost my mind and wandered like a fool on the prairie.I went out after lunch, it was terrible. " Konstantin rubbed his eyes, looked at the fire, and smiled. "Then you love her..." said Panteley. "She's so nice and charming," repeated Konstantin, not hearing Panteley's words. "A very good housewife, clever and sensible, and you can't find her like her in the homes of ordinary people in the whole province. She is gone. . . . But she must be thinking about me, I know! I understand, That little magpie! She said that she would be back before lunch tomorrow... This is really unexpected!" Konstantin almost shouted, suddenly raised his voice, and changed his sitting position. "Now she loves me and misses me, but she still refused to marry me back then!" "But you eat!" said Kiruha. "She won't marry me!" Constantine continued without listening to him. "I've been chasing her for three years! I saw her in the Karachik market. I loved her so much that I almost hanged myself. . . . I live in Rivno, she lives in Demidovo, There were fifteen versts between the two, and I couldn't find a chance. I sent a matchmaker to her, and she said, "No! 'Oh, this magpie!I gave her this, and that, and earrings, and honey cakes, and half-poot honey, and she said, "No!" Young, beautiful, like a ball of fire, and I am old, and I will soon be thirty, besides, I am so beautiful, with a big beard like a nail, and a clean face, full of hair. It's a lump. I can't compare with her! Only one thing is good: our family is rich, but the Vahraminki's family is also good. They have six cows and employ two long-term laborers. I love her, my friends, I'm in a trance.... I can't sleep, I can't eat, I'm full of thoughts, I'm in a daze all day, please God don't make us suffer! I want to see her face, but she lives in Demidovo . ...and guess what?I'm not lying, for God's testimony: three times a week, I'd walk up there step by step, just to catch a glimpse of her.I quit my job!I thought wildly, and even thought of going to Demidovo as a long-term laborer, so that I could be closer to her.I am so miserable!My mother is looking for a witch.My dad hit me ten times .After suffering for three full years, I made up my mind: Even if I go to hell, I will go to the city to be a coachman. ... Which means, I'm out of luck!Just after Easter I went up to Demidovo to see her one last time. ..." Konstantin threw his head back and let out a burst of hearty laughter, as if he had cleverly played tricks on someone just now. "I saw her by the river with some young lads," he went on. "My fire was on. . . . I took her aside and talked to her for about an hour. . . . And she fell in love with me! She hated me for three years, but because What I said made her fall in love with me! . . . " "What did you say to her?" asked Dymov. "What? I can't remember.... How can I remember? At that time, my words were like water flowing out of a pipe, without stopping for a moment: wow, wow! Now, I can't even say a single word.  … , She married me just like that... Now she has gone to find her mother, and as soon as the magpie leaves, I will wander on the grassland. I can't stay at home. I can't stand it!" Konstantin awkwardly pulled his feet out from under him, lay flat on the ground with his head resting on his fists, then got up again and sat down.At this time, everyone knew very well that this was a happy man intoxicated with love, and his happiness was to the point of pain.His smile, his eyes, his every move expressed a happiness that was beyond his reach.He fidgeted and did not know what position to sit in, what to do so that he would not be overwhelmed by a myriad of pleasant thoughts.After he poured out his heart in front of these strangers, he was able to sit quietly, staring at the fire, lost in thought. Seeing this happy person, everyone felt bored and longed for happiness.Everyone is preoccupied.Dymov got up and walked softly around the fire.From his steps, from the movement of his shoulder blades, it can be seen that he is uncomfortable and bored.He stopped, looked at Constantine, and sat down. At this point the bonfire went out.When the flame stopped flickering, the patch of red shrunk and dimmed. ... The faster the fire is extinguished, the brighter the moon will appear.Now they could see the wide road, the bales of wool, the shafts of the wagons, the horses chewing hay.On the opposite side of the avenue, dimly loomed another cross. … Dymov put his cheek on his hand and hummed a mournful song softly.Constantine smiled sleepily and sang along with him in a soft voice.They sang for half a minute, then fell silent again. ...Ye Meili shook her body, moved her elbows, and moved her fingers. "Boys!" he said in a pleading voice. "Let's sing a hymn!" Tears welled up in his eyes. "Boys!" he repeated, putting his hand to his heart, "let's sing a hymn!" "I won't," Constantine said. Everyone refused, so Yemeliyan sang alone.He waved his arms, nodded, and opened his mouth, but all that came out of him was a dry, soundless wheeze.He sang with his arms, with his head, with his eyes, even with his tumor, passionately and painfully.The harder he tried to force a note out of his chest, the more silent his gasps became. ... Yegorushka was depressed like everyone else.He went back to his wagon, climbed into the bales and lay down.He looked at the sky and thought of happy Constantine and his wife.Why do people get married?Why are there women in this world?Yegorushka asked himself this vague question, thinking that a man must be happy if he is always surrounded by gentle, cheerful, beautiful women.For some reason he thought of Countess Dranitskaya, and thought that it would be pleasant to live with such a woman.要不是这个想法使他非常难为情，他也许很愿意跟她结婚呢。他想起她的眉毛、双眸、马车、塑着骑士的座钟。 ……宁静而温暖的夜晚扑到他身上来，在他耳旁小声说着什么。他觉得仿佛那个可爱的女人向他凑过来，笑嘻嘻地看他，想吻他似的。 ……那堆火只留下两个小小的红眼睛，越变越小。车夫们和康司坦丁坐在残火旁边，黑糊糊的一片，凝神不动，看起来，他们现在的人数好象比先前多得多了。两个十字架都可以看清了。远远的，远远的，在大道旁边，闪着一团红光，大概也是有人在烧稀饭吧。 “我们的母亲俄罗斯是全世界的领——袖！”基留哈忽然扯大嗓门唱起来，可是唱了半截就停住，没唱下去。草原的回声接住他的声音，把它带到远处去，仿佛愚蠢本身用沉甸甸的轮子滚过草原似的。 “现在该动身啦！”潘捷列说。“起来，孩子们。” 他们套马的时候，康司坦丁在货车旁边走动，赞美他的老婆。 “再会，哥儿们！”等到货车队出发，他叫道。“谢谢你们的款待！我还要上火光那边去。我受不了！” 他很快就消失在黑暗里，可以长时间听到他迈步走向火光照耀的地方，对别的陌生人去诉说他的幸福。 第二天叶果鲁希卡醒来，正是凌晨。太阳还没升上来。货车队停住了。有一个人，戴一顶白色无边帽，穿一身便宜的灰布衣服，骑一头哥萨克的小马，正在最前面的一辆货车旁边跟迪莫夫和基留哈讲话。前面离这个货车队大约两俄里，有一些又长又矮的白色谷仓和瓦顶的小屋。小屋旁边既看不见院子，也看不见树木。 “老爷爷，那是什么村子？”叶果鲁希卡问。 “那是亚美尼亚人的庄子，小子，”潘捷列回答。“亚美尼亚人住在那儿。那个民族挺不错。……那些亚美尼亚人。” 那个穿灰衣服的人已经跟迪莫夫和基留哈讲完话，勒住他的小马，朝庄子那边望。 “瞧，这算是哪门子事啊！”潘捷列叹道，也朝庄子那边望，在清晨的冷空气中耸起肩膀。“他先前派一个人到庄子里去取一个什么文件，那个人至今没回来。……原该派司乔普卡去才对！” “这人是谁，老爷爷？”叶果鲁希卡问道。 “瓦尔拉莫夫。” my God!叶果鲁希卡连忙翻身起来，跪着，瞧那顶白色的无边帽。很难看出这个穿着大靴子、骑着难看的小马、在所有的上流人都睡觉的时候跑来跟农民讲话的矮小而不显眼的人原来就是那个神秘的、叫人捉摸不透的、人人都在找他而他又永远“在这一带地方转来转去”、比德兰尼茨卡雅伯爵小姐还要有钱的瓦尔拉莫夫。 “这个人挺不错，挺好，……”潘捷列说，朝庄子那边望。 “求上帝赐给他健康，挺好的一位老爷。……姓瓦尔拉莫夫，名叫谢敏·亚历山德雷奇。……小兄弟，这个世界就靠这类人支撑着。这是实在的。……公鸡还没叫，他就已经起床了。 ……换了别人，就一定在睡觉，或者在家里陪客人闲扯，可是他却一天到晚在草原上活动。……他转来转去，……什么事情他都不放松。……“瓦尔拉莫夫的眼睛没离开那庄子，嘴里在讲着什么。那匹小马不耐烦地调动它的脚。 “谢敏·亚历山德雷奇，”潘捷列叫道，脱掉帽子。“您派司乔普卡去吧！叶美里扬，喊一声，就说派司乔普卡去一趟！” 可是这时候总算有个人骑着马从庄子那边来了。那人的身子向一边歪得很厉害，马鞭在头顶上面挥动，象鸟那样快地飞到货车队这儿来，仿佛在表演勇敢的骑术，打算赢得每个人的惊叹似的。 “那人一定是替他办事的骑手，”潘捷列说。“他大概有一百个这样的骑手，说不定还要多呢。” 骑马的人来到第一辆货车旁边，勒住他的马，脱掉帽子，交给瓦尔拉莫夫一个小本子。瓦尔拉莫夫从小本子里抽出几张纸来，看了看，叫道：“伊凡楚克的信在哪儿呀？” 骑士接过小本子去，看一看那些纸，耸耸肩膀。他开口讲话，大概在替自己辩白，要求让他再骑马到庄子里去。小马忽然动一下，仿佛瓦尔拉莫夫变得重了一点似的。瓦尔拉莫夫也动了动。 “滚开！”他生气地叫道，他朝骑马的人挥动鞭子。 然后他勒转马头，一面瞧小本子里的纸，一面让那匹马漫步沿着货车队走动。等他走到货车队的最后一辆，叶果鲁希卡就凝神瞅着他，好看清他。瓦尔拉莫夫是个老头儿。他那平淡无奇、给太阳晒黑、生着一小把白胡子的俄罗斯人的脸，颜色发红，沾着露水，布满小小的青筋。那张脸跟伊凡·伊凡内奇一样，也现出正正经经的冷淡表情，现出热中于事务的表情。不过，在他和伊凡·伊凡内奇中间，毕竟可以感到很大的不同！伊凡·伊凡内奇舅舅的脸上除了正正经经的冷淡表情以外，永远有操心和害怕的神气，唯恐找不到瓦尔拉莫夫，唯恐误了时间，唯恐错过了好价钱。象这种自己作不得主的小人物所特有的表情，在瓦尔拉莫夫的脸上和身上就找不出来。这个人自己定价钱，从不找人，也不仰仗什么人。他的外表尽管平常，可是处处，甚至在他拿鞭子的气派中，都表现出他意识到自己的力量和一贯主宰草原的权力。 他骑马走过叶果鲁希卡身边，却没有看他一眼，倒是多承小马赏脸，瞧了瞧叶果鲁希卡。它用愚蠢的大眼睛瞧着，就连它也很冷淡。潘捷列对瓦尔拉莫夫鞠躬。瓦尔拉莫夫留意到了，眼睛还是没离开纸，声音含糊地说：“你好，老头儿！” 瓦尔拉莫夫跟骑马的人的谈话以及他挥动鞭子的气派显然给货车队所有的人都留下了威风凛凛的印象。大家的脸色严肃起来。骑马的人被这位大人物的震怒吓掉了魂，没戴帽子，松着缰绳，停在最前面那辆货车旁边。他一声不响，好象不相信今天一开头就会这么倒霉似的。 “很凶的老人，……”潘捷列嘟哝着说。“可惜他太凶！不过他挺不错，是个好人。……他并不无缘无故骂人。……没什么。……”看完那些纸以后，瓦尔拉莫夫就把小本子塞进衣袋里。小马仿佛知道他的心意似的，不等吩咐，就颤动一下，顺着大道朝前疾驰了。 "Notes" ①基督教节日，在日俄历一月六日。 ②尼古拉的俗称。 ③对正在吃饭的人的问候辞。