Chapter 14 "Prairie" VII

seven That night, the coachman stopped to cook porridge.This time, from the beginning of the day, everyone felt a vague sense of melancholy.The weather was sultry, and everyone drank a lot of water, but they still didn't quench their thirst.The moon rose, very red, and looked gloomy, as if sick.The stars are also dim, the shadows are thicker, and the distance is more hazy.Nature seemed to have a premonition and was listless. Around the fire there was not the lively sight and lively conversation of the previous night. Everyone feels bored, and even when they talk, they can't cheer up and have no interest.Panteley just sighed, complained about his legs, and talked about sudden death from time to time.

Dymov fell on the ground, silent, chewing a piece of hay.There was a look of disgust on his face, as if the grass smelled bad, and his face was fierce and tired. ... Vasya complained of a pain in his jaw, and predicted that the sky would change.Ye Meiliyan did not wave his arms, just sat there, staring at the fire dully.Yegorushka was also tired.The slow travel bored him, and the heat of the day gave him a headache. While they were making porridge, Dymov got into a quarrel with his companion out of frustration. "This warty fellow, sitting there comfortably, is always the first to stick out the spoon!" he said, looking at Emelyan viciously. "Greedy! Always the first to grab a seat next to the pot. He sang in the choir, so he thinks he is a gentleman! Singers like you are begging a lot on this avenue!"

"Why are you against me?" Yemeliyan asked, also looking at him angrily. "I just want you not to be the first to scoop something into the pot. Don't think you are anything special!" "You're a bastard, that's all," Emelyan said hoarsely. Panteley and Vasya, who knew from experience how such conversations usually ended, intervened and tried to persuade Dymov not to curse for no reason. "What poetry singer..." The troublemaker refused to give up, but sneered instead. "Anyone can sing that stuff. Sit on the porch and sing: "For Christ's sake, give me some money!" 'Humph!You guys are pretty good too! "

Ye Meiliyan did not speak.His silence only annoyed Dymov.He looked at the man who had sung in the church before with even more anger, and said, "I just don't want to talk to you, or I really want you to know what you are!" "But why are you against me, you Mazepa?" Emelian was annoyed. "Did I mess with you?" "What did you call me?" Dymov asked, standing up, his eyes bloodshot. "what? I'm Mazepa?Yeah?Well, give you some color to see!Call yourself to find it! " Dymov snatched the spoon from Emelyan's hand and threw it away.Kiruha, Vasya, and Styopka jumped up and ran to find the spoon.Emelyan looked at Panteley with pleading and questioning eyes.His face suddenly shrunk and wrinkled, his eyes narrowed, and the former choir singer burst into tears like a child.

Yegorushka had long hated Dymov, and at this moment the air suddenly became unbearably stuffy, as if the flames of a bonfire had scorched his face.He wished he could run to the van in the dark, but the rascal's angry, bored eyes caught him.Eager to say something very hurtful, he took a step towards Dymov and said out of breath: "You are worse than anyone else! I can't stand you!" After that he was supposed to run to the van, but he stood there unable to move, and went on: "In the next world you'll be burned in hell! I'll tell Ivan Ivanitch." Go! You are not allowed to bully Emelyan!"

"Hey, look!" Dymov sneered. "Little piglet whose milk is still dry, he's starting to discipline others. Shall I twist your ears?" Yegorushka felt suffocated.He had never done this before, but suddenly his whole body trembled, he stamped his feet, and screamed, "Hit him! Hit him!" Tears flowed from his eyes.Embarrassed, he staggered back to the van.What effect his screams had, he didn't see.Lying on the bales crying, his arms and legs twitching, he whispered, "Mother! Mother!" These people, the shadows around the campfire, the black bundles of wool, the distant flashes of lightning that flashed every minute, all this now struck him as eerie.He was terrified, and asked himself desperately: what is the matter, why has he come to this strange place, among a group of terrible peasants?Where are his uncle, Father Christopher, and Deniska now?Why haven't they come here for so long?Had they forgotten him?The thought of being forgotten, left here, at the mercy of fate gave him chills, and he was terrified. Several times he stood up suddenly, was about to jump off the wool bale, and ran back down the road without a hitch. He didn't turn back, but he changed his mind when he realized that he would definitely encounter a dark and gloomy cross and lightning flashing in the distance on the road, so he held back. ...Only when he whispered "Mom! Mom!" did he feel better. ... the coachmen must have been afraid too.After Yegorushka ran away from the campfire, they were silent for a long time, and then murmured in vague whispers that something was coming and they had to move quickly to avoid it. ... They finished their dinner in a hurry, turned off the ignition, and set up the car in silence.It was evident from their hasty movements and staccato speech that they expected some disaster to come.

When he was about to start his journey, Dymov walked up to Panteley and asked in a low voice, "What's his name?" "Yegory..." Panteley replied. Dymov, with one foot on a wheel, grabbed the ropes that tied the bales, and climbed into the car.Yegorushka saw his face and head with curly hair.The face was pale, weary, and sad, but there was no expression of ferocity any longer. "Yegori!" he said softly. "Come on, hit me!" Yegorushka looked at him strangely, and there was a flash of lightning. "It doesn't matter, just hit me!" Dymov repeated.

Before Yegorushka could beat him or speak to him, he jumped out of the car again, saying: "I'm so bored!" Then, staggering and moving his shoulder blades, he walked lazily down the line of wagons, repeating in a voice half sad, half troubled: "I'm so bored! Lord, don't you You're angry with me, Emelyan," he said as he passed Emelyan. "We have no hope for this kind of life, it's miserable!" A flash of lightning appeared on the right, as if it were reflected in a mirror, and immediately there was also a flash of lightning in the distance. "Yegori, catch it!" Panteley yelled, throwing up a big, black object.

"What is it?" asked Yegorushka. "Tarp! It's going to rain, cover yourself with it." Yegorushka sat up and looked around him.The distance was visibly darkened, and white light flickered, now more than once a minute, as if the eyelids were flickering.The darkness seemed to be skewed to the right because of its weight. "Grandpa, is there going to be a thunderstorm?" asked Yegorushka. "Oh, my frozen feet hurt so much!" Panteley said in a drawn-out voice, stamping his feet, not hearing what the child said. The sky on the left looks like someone is striking a match.A pale, phosphorescent band flickered and then died.One could hear a sound like someone walking on the tin roof in the distance.Probably walking on the roof with bare feet, because the iron sheet made a dull rumbling sound.

"It's going to rain!" cried Kiruha. Between the distance and the horizon on the right, there appeared a flash of lightning, shining brightly, illuminating part of the grassland, and illuminating the place where the cloudless sky and the darkness meet.The dense black cloud moved slowly; large black rags hung from the edge of the cloud.On the horizon to the left and right there are also such fragments crushing each other and piled up high.The appearance of the rain cloud is broken and fluffy, as if it is drunk and messing around.There was a clear, unmistakable rumble of thunder in the sky.Yegorushka crossed himself and hastily put on his overcoat.

"I'm so bored!" Dymov yelled from the van ahead, and from the tone of his voice it was clear that he was angry again. "I'm so bored!" Suddenly there was a gust of wind, so strong that it almost swept away Yegorushka's bundle and tarpaulin.The tarpaulin was blown by the wind and flew in all directions, beating the bales and Yegorushka's face.The wind was howling, galloping across the grassland, whirling round and round, making the grass make a lot of noise, and the thunder and the creaking of the wheels could not be heard.The wind blows from the black rain clouds, bringing up billows of dust and the smell of rain and wet earth.The moonlight dimmed, as if it had become dirty.The stars are getting dimmer.One could see the billowing smoke and its shadow hurrying along the edge of the avenue somewhere behind.At this moment the whirlwind whirls, sweeps the dead grass and feathers from the dust on the ground, and probably rises into the sky, and the tumbleweeds are probably flying beside the black rain clouds, they must be very scared!But through the blinding dust nothing could be seen but the light of lightning. Yegorushka thought that it was going to rain heavily, knelt down, and covered himself with the tarpaulin. "Pantele--row!" cried someone ahead. "Wow...wow...wow!" "I can't hear!" Panteley replied loudly, drawn out. "Wow...wow...wow!" The thunder roared angrily, rolled from right to left in the sky, and then rolled back, disappearing near the front truck. "Holy, holy, holy, Almighty Lord," whispered Yegorushka, crossing himself, "may heaven and earth be filled with your glory. ..." The black sky opened its mouth and spit out white fire, and immediately there was thunder again.No sooner had the thunder died down than there was a huge flash of lightning, and through the crack in the tarpaulin Yegorushka suddenly saw the whole wide road leading into the distance, all the coachmen, and even Kiruha's face. waistcoat.At this moment the black broken clouds on the left moved up, and one of them was wild and clumsy, like a clawed toe, stretching straight towards the moon.Yegorushka resolved to close his eyes, ignore it, and wait for it to be over. For some reason, the rain did not come for a long time.Yegorushka hoped that the rain clouds might pass, and looked out of the tarpaulin.It was terribly dark.Yegorushka could see neither Panteley, nor the bales, nor himself.He squinted his eyes to look at the place where the moon had been not so long ago, but it was as dark as the sky above the truck.In the dark, the lightning seemed whiter and brighter, and it hurt his eyes. "Pantele!" cried Yegorushka. No one answered.But at this moment, the wind finally lifted the tarpaulin for the last time, and ran away to some unknown place.An even and calm sound could be heard.A large, cool drop of water fell on Yegorushka's lap, and another crawled over his hand.He found his knees were not covered and tried to straighten the tarp, but at that moment something spilled and slapped the road, then the bars, and the wool bales.It turned out to be raindrops.Raindrop and tarpaulin seemed to know each other, and began to chat quickly and happily, chirping like two magpies. Yegorushka was kneeling, or rather, sitting on his boots.As the rain beat against the tarp, he leaned forward to cover his knees, which suddenly became wet.He managed to cover his knees, but within a minute, he felt a biting, uncomfortable wet feeling under his back and on his calves.He resumed his original posture, letting his knees get drenched by the rain, secretly thinking about how to arrange the invisible tarpaulin in the dark.But his arms were already wet.The rain dripped into the sleeves and collar, and the shoulder blades felt cold.He decided to do nothing, just sit there and wait for the rain to pass. "Holy, holy, holy..." he whispered. Suddenly, just overhead, there was a terrible, deafening thunderclap, and the sky shattered.He curled up, holding his breath, and waited for the debris to fall on the back of his head and back.His eyes opened by chance, and he saw a blinding light flash five times on his fingers, on his wet sleeves, and on the thin stream of water flowing from the tarpaulin to the bales and then to the ground. There came the same violent and terrible blow.The sky is not rumbling or booming now, but cracking like dry wood cracking. "Trala! Tah! Tah! Tah!" came the thunder clearly, rolling across the sky, stumbling, and falling somewhere near the wagon ahead or somewhere far behind, with a vicious, staccato "Trala!" Pull!..." Previously, the lightning was just scary, but with this kind of thunder, it looked more ferocious.Their magic light penetrates the closed eyelids and makes people feel cold all over. How can we not see them?Yegorushka decided to turn his face backwards. He crawled carefully on all fours, as if afraid to be seen, slipped his palms on the wet wool bale, and turned away. "Tella! Da! Da!" The voice rolled over his head, fell under the van, and exploded. "La la la!" Yegorushka accidentally opened his eyes again, only to see a new danger: three tall giants with spears in their hands were following the cart.The lightning illuminated the points of their spears, and their bodies were clearly visible.Their bodies are tall, their faces are covered, their heads are bowed, and their steps are heavy.They looked very sad, listless, and preoccupied.They followed the van, perhaps with no malice in it, but there was something scary about their proximity. Yegorushka turned quickly towards the front, trembling all over, and shouted: "Pantele! Grandfather!" "Tra! Da! Da!" Sky answered him. He opened his eyes wide to see if the coachmen were there.Lightning shot out from two places, illuminating the road leading into the distance, the whole wagon train, and all the drivers.The rainwater merged into a small river and flowed along the road, and the bubbles danced erratically.Panteley was walking beside the van, his tall hat and shoulders covered with a small tarpaulin, and he showed neither terror nor uneasiness, as if he had been deafened by thunder and blinded by lightning. "Grandfather, giant!" Yegorushka cried to him, crying. But the old man didn't hear it.Ye Meiliyan walked ahead.He was covered from head to toe with a large tarpaulin, forming a triangle.Vasya was uncovered and walked like a log, raising his feet high without bending his knees.In the lightning, it seemed that the wagon was not moving, the drivers stood still, and Vasya's raised foot froze. . . Yegorushka is also called Grandpa.He didn't hear an answer, so he sat very still, not waiting for the rain to stop.He believed that the thunder would kill him in a minute, and that as long as he opened his eyes occasionally, he would see those terrifying giants.He didn't cross himself anymore, he didn't call his grandfather, he didn't miss his mother anymore, he was just freezing and believing that the storm would never end. But suddenly there was a human voice. "Yegori, are you asleep or something?" Panteley called from below. "Come down! Deaf, little fool! . . . " "That's what a storm is called!" said an unfamiliar low voice, rattling in his throat, as if he had just drained a glass of fine liquor. Yegorushka opened his eyes.Down by the wagon stood Panteley, the triangular Emelyan, and the giants.Those giants are much shorter now.Yegorushka took a closer look, and it turned out that they were ordinary peasants, and what they carried on their shoulders were not spears, but iron pitchforks.Looking out from the gap between Panteley and the triangle, one could see light shining from the bright windows of a low wooden house.The truck convoy was seen to have stopped in a village.Yegorushka pushed back the tarpaulin, picked up the bundle, and hastily climbed out of the truck.Now there were voices and brightly lit windows nearby, and although the thunder was still rumbling as before, and the sky was covered with long streaks of lightning, he no longer felt afraid. "It's a good storm..." Panteley muttered. "Thank God. . . . My feet don't hurt so badly from the rain, the storm is all right. . . . Climb down, Yegoly? Well, go to the hut. . . . It's all right. ..." "Holy, holy, holy..." Ye Meiliyan said dryly. "The thunder must have knocked something down somewhere. . . . Are you from around here?" he asked the giant. "No, from the village of Greenovo... We are from the village of Greenovo. We work at Master Platerov's. " "Is it threshing wheat?" "Doing everything. Right now we're harvesting wheat. The lightning, the lightning! There hasn't been a storm like this for a long time. ..." Yegorushka went into the hut.He came face to face with a thin, hunchbacked old woman with a pointed chin.Holding an oil candle in her hand, she squinted her eyes and sighed long. "What a storm God has given us!" she said. "Our family is spending the night out on the steppe. They're going to suffer, my love! Take off your clothes, young master, take off your clothes. . . . " Yegorushka shivered from the cold, and shrugged his shoulders in agony. , took off the soaked coat, then opened his arms, split his legs, and stood for a long time without moving.The slightest movement caused an unpleasant feeling of cold and damp in him.Shirt sleeves and backs were wet, trousers stuck to thighs, water dripped from heads. ... "Little boy, what are you doing standing there splitting your legs?" said the old woman. "Come on, sit down!" Yegorushka spread his legs wide, went to the table, and sat down on a stool near someone's head.The head moved, a puff of breath came out of the nose, there was a chewing sound in the mouth, and then it was quiet again.From this head, along the stool, rises a hill covered with a sheepskin jacket.It turned out that it was a peasant woman sleeping. The old woman went out with a sigh, and soon came back with a watermelon and a melon. "Eat, young master! I have nothing else to treat you to..." she said, yawning, and then, searching in a desk drawer, brought out a long, sharp knife, which looked like A knife of the kind used by robbers in inns to kill merchants. "Eat, young master!" Yegorushka shivered as if he had a fever, and on black bread he ate a piece of melon, and then a piece of watermelon, which made him feel even colder. "Our family spends the night outside on the grassland..." the old woman sighed as he ate. "The Lord is angry! . . . I wanted to light a candle in front of the statue, but I don't know where Stepanida put the candle. Eat, young master, eat. . . . " The old woman yawned , stretched his right hand behind his back, and scratched her left shoulder. "It must be two o'clock now," she said. "In a little while it's time to get up. My family spent the night on the prairie. . . . They must be soaking wet. ..." "Grandma," said Yegorushka, "I want to sleep." "Lie down, young master, lie down..." the old woman sighed and yawned. "Lord Jesus Christ! I was asleep, and suddenly I heard someone knocking on the door. I woke up and saw that it was the Lord who gave us this storm. . . . I wanted to light a candle, but I couldn't find it. .” Talking to herself, she took from the stool a heap of rags, most likely her own quilt, and two sheepskin jackets from a peg by the fire, and began to make Yegorushka's bed. "The storm isn't over yet," she babbled. "Just hope no one gets struck by lightning. Our family spends the night on the prairie. . . . Lie down and sleep, young master. . . . Christ is with you, little grandson. . . . Come on, you might want something to eat when you get up." The sighs and yawns of the old woman, the well-proportioned sniffs of the sleeping peasant woman, the semi-darkness of the hut, and the sound of rain outside the window make one feel drowsy.Yegorushka was ashamed to undress in front of the old woman.He just took off his boots, lay down, and pulled his sheepskin jacket over him. "Boy is lying down?" After a while he heard Panteley whisper. "Lie down!" The old woman replied in a low voice, "The Lord is angry, angry! The thunder strikes again and again, and I can't tell when it will end...." "It will pass in a while..." Panteley Whisper, sit down. "The thunder is much quieter. . . . The companions have gone to the hut. Only two of them stayed outside to watch the horses. . . . . . . I'll sit here for a while, and then I'll go to the shift. . . . I have to, and I'll be taken away. . . . " Panteley and the old woman sat side by side at Yegorushka's feet, hissing in a low voice. They chatted loudly, sighs and yawns interspersed with their conversation.Yegorushka could not keep warm.He was covered with a heavy and warm sheepskin jacket, but he was shaking all over, his arms and legs were twitching, and his heart was trembling. . . . He took off his clothes under the sheepskin jacket, but it was no use.His chills grew stronger and stronger. Panteley went out to watch the horses, and then came back.Yegorushka still could not sleep, and trembled all over.Something was pressing down on his head and chest, and he was oppressed.He didn't know what it was, whether it was the low voice of two old men talking, or the pungent smell of sheepskin.The watermelons and melons he had eaten left an unpleasant, metallic taste in his mouth.Besides, he was bitten by fleas. "Grandpa, I'm cold!" He said, and he couldn't recognize that it was his own voice. "Sleep, little grandson, sleep..." the old woman sighed. Kit moved his little thin legs to the edge of the bed, waved his arms, and grew taller, up to the ceiling, and turned into a windmill.Father Christopher, instead of sitting in the carriage, was dressed neatly in his cassock, and with a broom for sprinkling holy water in his hand, he walked around the windmill, sprinkled holy water on it, and the windmill stopped turning.Yegorushka knew it was a dream and opened his eyes. "Grandpa!" he cried, "give me water!" No one answered.Yegorushka felt unbearably stuffy and uncomfortable lying there.He got up, dressed, and went out of the hut.Morning has come. The sky was overcast, but the rain was not falling.Yegorushka shivered, wrapped himself in a damp overcoat, walked across the muddy yard, and listened in the silence. His eyes came across a small stable with a half-open reed door.He poked his head in to see the hut, went in, and sat down on a pile of dried dung in a dark corner. Thoughts were tangled in his heavy head, and there was a metallic taste in his mouth, dry and bitter.He looked at his hat, straightened the peacock feathers on it, and remembered the time when he went to buy this hat with his mother.He put his hand in his pocket and pulled out a brown, sticky mess.How had this lump of mud come into his pocket?He thought about it and smelled it: it smelled of honey. Ah, it turned out to be Jewish honey cake!This cake is soaked in water, ah, poor thing! Yegorushka looked at his overcoat.It was a gray overcoat, with large buttons of bone, cut in the style of a dress.This is an expensive new dress, so it is never hung in the front hall at home, but hung in the bedroom with mother's clothes. He was only allowed to wear it on holidays.Looking at the dress, Yegorushka could not help feeling sorry for it, and remembering that he and the overcoat were now at the mercy of fate, and that he would never be able to return home, he began to weep so bitterly that he almost fell off the dunghill. I fell headfirst. A large white dog, soaked in rain, with locks of white hair hanging down its face like curling papers, came into the stable and stared at Yegorushka strangely.It seems to be thinking: whether it is better to bark or not.Deciding that there was no need to bark, he walked carefully up to Yegorushka, ate the sticky mass, and went out again. "It's one of Varlamov's men!" someone shouted in the street. When we had had enough of crying, Yegorushka came out of the stables, walked around a pond, and walked into the street.The van happened to be parked on the road at the door.Wet coachmen wandered beside their wagons with their muddy feet, or sat on the rails, listless and sleepy like autumn flies.Yegorushka looked at them and thought: "It's so boring and uncomfortable to be a peasant!" He went to Panteley's side and sat down beside him on the rail. "Grandpa, I'm cold!" he said, shivering, and stuffed his hands into his sleeves. "Never mind, we'll be there soon," Panteley said with a yawn. "It's okay, you'll warm up." The truck convoy left early because the weather was not yet hot.Yegorushka lay on the bales, shivering with cold, although the sun soon appeared in the sky and dried his clothes, the bales, and the earth.As soon as he closed his eyes, he saw Kit and the windmill again.He wanted to vomit, he felt heavy, and he tried to drive away these phantoms, but as soon as they disappeared, Dymov the troublemaker, with red eyes, raised his fists, and with a roar fell on Yegorushka, or else Hearing the voice complaining: "I'm so bored!" Varlamov rode over on his Cossack pony.The happy Konstantin also walked over, smiling, and hugging the bustard.How dull, how overwhelming, how tiresome these people are! Once (it was nearly dusk) he raised his head to ask someone for a drink. The convoy of trucks was parked on a bridge that spanned a wide river.Black smoke billowed from the river below the bridge, through which a steamer could be seen, with a barge towed by a rope behind it. Ahead, across the river, was a large, colorful hill dotted with houses and churches.At the foot of the hill, beside a freight train, a locomotive was running. ... Yegorushka had never seen a steamship, a locomotive, or a great river before.He looked at them now without fear or surprise, not even the slightest hint of curiosity on his face.He just felt sick, and quickly fell down, leaning his chest against the edge of the wool bale.He threw up.Seeing this, Panteley cleared his throat and shook his head. "Our little boy is sick!" he said. "Must have a cold. . . . boy. . . . . . . . . . "Notes" ① Mazepa (1644-1709), the Ukrainian leader from 1687 to 1708.During the Northern War from 1700 to 1721, he led 4,000 to 5,000 Cossacks to defect to King Charles XII of Sweden.Later the Swedish army was defeated at Poltava, and Mazepa fled with Charles XII.