Chapter 11 Part Three 11-14

eleven The surrounding fields are gloomy and the wind is bleak.But I am happy to breathe the cool air of this late autumn, and feel the bitter chill with my young and hot face.I drove Kabaldinka again and again, I always liked to gallop fast, I liked to whip my mount, and I always treated it ruthlessly.At this time, my horse ran very fast.Have I contemplated and explicitly imagined anything?In fact, when a major or meaningful event occurs in a person's life, and this event requires an immediate decision, he seldom thinks about it, and is only willing to listen to the secret control of his heart.I clearly remember that my agitated mind kept thinking along the way.What are you thinking about?I don't know yet, I just want to change my life, want to be free and go somewhere...

I remember that I stopped for a while at the Stanov station.Night had fallen by then, and the suburbs were still more gloomy and melancholy.It seemed that not only on this deserted and long-forgotten road, but also for hundreds of miles around it was deserted.Secluded, empty, desert... oh, ok, I thought about it and put down the rein.Kabalzinka stopped, jerked violently from side to side, and then remained motionless.With frozen knees, I climbed out of the hot, smooth saddle and looked around warily.I recalled the legend of the robbers at Stanov's station in the old days, and I even hoped to have a terrible encounter tonight, a thrilling fight with some fellow. belt.Put the dagger hanging on my waist,... the cold wind poured into my waist like cold water, whipped my whole body, whistling in my ears, in the dark field, withered weeds And the stubble rustled like robbers in panic.Kabaldinka, with stirrups on both sides and the corners of the saddle protruding from his waist, stood upright, with his ears pricked up, with a strange expression, as if he also knew the bad reputation of this place and was very careful Gaze somewhere on the road.It was black with sweat, its ribs and groin were thin, but I knew its stamina, and it was enough to stand and take a deep breath, and then go on the road again, running as fast as it was old, and it Love me, be loyal to me, never change.I embraced its slender neck with special tenderness, kissed its twitching muzzle, and then climbed back into the saddle and rode on faster...

Then the night came, and it was a dim, dark, true autumn night.As in a dream, I began to feel the darkness, the headwind, and the clattering of horses' hooves in the dark place beneath my feet... Then, the lights of distant cities and suburbs appeared, and they seemed to have stopped for a long time. In one place, the lights are very clear and clear, which can only be seen in autumn nights... The lights are finally getting closer and bigger.On both sides of the dark road, the wooden roofs of the village appeared, and the windows under the roofs were brightly lit, comfortable and inviting.From the windows, you can see the bright interior and people eating at home... Where there is a clear smell of the complexity of the city's population, there are countless lights flickering all around, and the windows are bright.At this time Kabaldinka's iron hooves were already ringing happily and excitedly on the roads and streets... The city was quieter and warmer.It's still dusk here, not the pitch-black night that has long been invisible in the wild.I went to Nazarov's inn compound, dismounted and went straight to dinner...

I had so many thoughts that night!It may not be possible to say that since I have published an article in a famous magazine and have become one of the famous writers, I am really so excited and feel lucky.I remember, at the time, I almost took it for granted.I was only a little excited, and although excited enough, I could completely control my emotions, keep my whole body and mind calm, and be able to accept and appreciate everything.What made me so happy that evening was the city in the autumn evening and my quick walk to the gates of the Nazarov Inn.As soon as I reached the gate, I took hold of a rusty iron ring hanging in the door opening, and rang the bell violently into the courtyard.Then I heard a lame gatekeeper walking on the flagstones behind the door, and he came out and opened the gate for me.There is a sense of comfort in the yard, which is littered with manure.Under the dark eaves, in an open shed, many carts were parked, and horses were grazing and rustling.In the dark of the front room, where you can't see your fingers, there is a rustic old toilet that emits a foul smell.I lifted my numb feet, stepped up the wooden steps, and walked down the rotting steps into the hallway.Here I fumbled for a long time with the handle of the door of the house.Suddenly, the door opened, and inside was a bright, warm kitchen, full of people, filled with the smell of hot, greasy corned beef—some peasants were eating their supper.Behind the kitchen, there is a half room that is clean.There was a large round table, brightly lit by a chandelier.At the head of the table was a fat proprietress with a pockmarked face and a slender upper lip; the proprietor was an old man with a sad face and serious eyes, a vulgar philistine look; he was heavy-boned and had straight brown hair. , with a pointed Suzdal nose, like an old Christian.In addition, there were many sunburned, dark and rough people eating together, all wearing cross-collared shirts and waistcoats... Everyone except the boss drank vodka, and all from a communal cup. Eating broth with a spoon in a big soup bowl, with a layer of oil floating on it, and with bay leaves... Oh, how good it feels to me!Alas, this wild, melancholy night, this friendly city life at night, these peasants and townspeople eating and drinking, that is to say, this whole old backward Rose, with her wildness, complexity, strength, and housekeeping, And my hazy fantasies about the fabulous Petersburg, Moscow and some famous writers, and I also want to drink at the moment, and I also want to gobble up the fluffy white steamed buns and vegetable soup in this city, how pleasant it all is ah!

Indeed, I was so full of wine and food that later everyone broke up and each found a place to lie down in the yard, kitchen, or main room, turned off the lights, and fell asleep snoring. When bedbugs and cockroaches dominated me, I still Sitting on the steps for a long time, bareheaded, letting the October night air cleanse my slightly dizzy mind, in the stillness of the night, I sometimes listen to the hammering of a dancer somewhere in the distance, along the deserted street Come, sometimes listen to the creak of horses chewing peacefully under the eaves, which is occasionally interrupted by a fight and fierce screams.As I listened, I pondered something in my cheerful and somewhat drunken mind...

That evening, for the first time, I thought that sooner or later I would have to leave Baturino. twelve Only the bosses slept alone in their own bedroom, which was like a chapel because of the many gold and silver icons in the shrine.The shrine stands in the front corner, and a crimson magic lamp hangs from it.So it's like a vertical black mausoleum.All of us, me and five other real travelers, slept in the same room where we had dinner yesterday.Three of them slept on the floor, covered with Tatar rugs, and the other three, unfortunately including me, slept on couches as hard as slate, with a straight wooden backrest .As soon as I struck a match, those small but very vicious bedbugs crawled around under the pillow.Naturally, they bit me all night.In the warm, fetid darkness, there was snoring all around, so that the night seemed endless.And the never-ending sound of hammering sometimes goes so hard, it's so presumptuous, it's almost like cracking under your window.The door of the boss’s bedroom was half-opened, and the red magic lamp shone directly into my eyes. The black cross-shaped lamp stand showed the reflection of a dark conversation, and shadows flickered like a spider in a big spider web in mythology. ...But as soon as I heard my master wake up, I got up anyway.The man sleeping on the floor yawns; gets up and puts on his boots.The cook ran at their feet, dragging a boiled samovar on the felt, so hard that the samovar hit the table, causing a thick puff of gas, and the windows were blinded by the thick steam from the samovar. And the mirror immediately turned white.

An hour later I was at the post office and finally received my first payment and a book that was more beautiful than anything else in the world.This book is thick, beautifully bound, and has an egg-yellow cover.In it were printed my poems, which at first glance seemed not to have been written by me, but which read charmingly, as if they had been written by a real poet.After getting paid for the manuscript, I followed my father's instructions and went to see a grain buyer named Ivan Andreevich Balavin in order to show him the grain samples we had typed out and ask about Check the price and, if possible, conclude a pre-sale contract.I went straight from the post office to meet him. Along the way, passing farmers and townspeople all looked at this young man in leather boots with strange eyes. He walked more slowly, and sometimes even stopped, sinking his head into a certain place on the open book in front of his eyes.

Balavin treated me very coldly at first, and this kind of gratuitous unfriendly attitude can be said to be common among us Russian businessmen.The gates of the warehouse where he stacked his grain faced the road.A clerk led me into the interior of the warehouse, to a glass door with a red cloth hanging inside, and he knocked timidly. "Come in!" Someone from inside the door shouted unhappily. I walked in, and a man who couldn't tell how old I was stood up slightly from behind the large writing desk to meet me.He was wearing a suit, with delicate features, a slick face, a little yellowish, his pale white hair combed straight back, very neat, a pair of yellow and orange mustaches, and a pair of light green eyes that were bright and quick.

"What's the matter?" he asked quickly and coldly. After giving my name and explaining my purpose of coming, I hurriedly took out two small bags of wheat samples from my jacket pocket awkwardly, and put them in front of his desk. "Please sit down," he said casually, sat down at the table, and opened the two small bags of wheat without looking up at me.After untying it, he took out a handful of wheat seeds, put it on the palm of his hand, rubbed it with his fingers, smelled it again, and then checked another bag in the same way. "How much?" he asked casually.

"How many stones did you say?" I asked. "I'm not asking how many wagons, of course," he said sarcastically. I blushed suddenly, but without asking me to answer, he said: "However, that's not the main thing. The price is very cheap now, and you probably know that..." After expressing his bid, he suggested that the grain should be shipped even tomorrow. "I agree with the price," I said, blushing. "Can I pay a small deposit first?" Without a word he took his wallet out of his trouser pocket, handed me a hundred-rouble note, and put the wallet back with skillful, very precise movements.

"Do you want a receipt?" I asked, blushing, mostly from my embarrassment at being glad I was grown up and able to do things. With a sneer, he replied that, thank God, Alexander Sergeyevich Arsenyev was a man of considerable renown, and then he indicated to me that this business conversation was over.He opened a silver cigarette case on the table and handed it to me. "Thanks, I don't smoke," I said. He started smoking and asked me casually: "Are you writing poetry?" I looked at him in great surprise, but he wouldn't let me answer. "Don't be surprised, I'm also interested in this kind of work," he sneered. "I'm, to put it bluntly, a poet too. I even published a small volume once. Now, obviously, I've given up on it. There's no time for it, and I don't have much talent. I'm Just a newsletter, maybe you've heard of it, but I'm still interested in literature, I subscribe to a lot of newspapers and magazines... If I'm not mistaken, you published your first novel in that big magazine ? I wish you success with all my heart, and allow me to advise you not to despise yourself." "What does that mean?" I asked.This unexpected change of subject shocked me. "It means that you have to think carefully about your future. Excuse me, you need money and a good education to engage in literary work, and what do you have? I think of myself now. To put it bluntly, my little one Time is not a fool, and I have seen a lot since I was a child, but what did I write? I am ashamed to think about it! I grew up in a remote place on the grassland, Living in a simple wooden house, Furniture without patterns, Only the high plank bed is shaking... Excuse me, what kind of thing am I writing about?First, it's a lie.I wasn't born in a prairie hut at all, but grew up in a big city; second, it's stupid to compare a raised plank bed with carved furniture; third, a raised plank bed never wobbles.Don't I know all this?That's clear, but I can't help talking nonsense because I'm not very well educated, I'm uneducated, I don't have the opportunity to study because of poverty... There's no way," he said, standing up suddenly, and stretching out his arms to me. One hand, holding mine tightly, staring into my eyes. "Let me be the fuse for you to think about yourself.If you stay in the countryside all the time, don't observe life, just read some books casually, and write something carelessly, you will have no bright future.And you have shown great talent, pardon my frankness, you make a very pleasant impression..." He suddenly became cold and serious again. "Goodbye," he said casually again, nodding his head, indicating that I could go, and sitting back at the table. "Please give my regards to your father..." My secret plan to leave Baturino was unexpectedly given yet another argument. Thirteen But this plan did not materialize immediately. My life was still the same, day after day, and even more carefree passed away.At least outwardly, I have become an ordinary rural youth. I am used to living in my own manor. I no longer avoid the daily life of the manor. I often hunt and visit. To go to the favorite farmhouse in the village, in a family circle, to pass the time sitting in front of a samovar, or lying on the sofa bed for hours on end reading... Then something happened that always happened sooner or later. Our neighbor Alfirov died without heir.Nikolay's brothers left the deserted estate and stopped living with us that winter and moved to Alfirov's estate.One of his maids was named Donika.She just got married, but shortly after marriage, because of poverty, she had nowhere to live, and she separated from her husband again.Her husband was a saddler, and after marriage he went to a job of his own, so she came to serve her brother. She was only twenty years old and had always been taciturn, so everyone in the village called her Wild Jackdaw and thought her a big fool.She is not tall, with dark skin, solid build, quick movements, small hands and feet, but very strong, dark brown in the narrow eye sockets.She was like an Indian girl: a dark face with thick straight lines, and Hutan's hair was thick and black.But I found a special kind of beauty in it.I went to my brother's almost every day, and I always admired her, liked to see her bring a samovar or a big bowl of broth to the table with a steady and brisk step, liked to see her indifferent glance.This sound of footsteps and glances, the thick black hair, the straight locks that peeked out from under the orange turban, the slightly elongated purple lips, the well-built neck that fell to the shoulders—all this was happening all the time. Makes me feel distressed and uneasy.Once, I met her in the hallway of the front room, and jokingly grabbed her with one hand and forced her against the wall... She turned away without a word—and that was the end of the matter.We never had any attempts at romance with each other. But one winter evening, walking along the village, I wandered carelessly into the courtyard of the Alfirov estate.I walked across the snowdrift, up the steps, and into the house.In the total darkness of the front room, and above all, dim and mysterious, as if in a dark cave-dwelling, a newly lit stove glowing red with a mass of coals, Tonya faced Stove mouth, sitting on the floor.She didn't wear a headscarf, and her dark bare feet were slightly parted. Under the light of the fire, her two smooth-skinned calves were shiny.Her whole body was illuminated red and bright by the fire, and the light and darkness were distinct.Holding a fire hook in her hand, she put the red-hot end on the pile of coals. She slightly turned her bright and dark face away from the scorching heat, and stared sleepily at the coals, at the deep pile of coals. Red, brittle, transparent hills, where some parts have faded to a thin layer of lavender, and others are burning brightly, showing turquoise flames.I knocked on the door and walked in and she didn't even turn around. "It's so dark here, is there no one in the house?" I went in and asked. She tilted her face back even more from me, and smiled a little embarrassed and lazy. "You don't seem to know!" she said sarcastically. "I don't know what?" "Come on, come on..." "What's the matter?" "How can you not know where they are and when they will come to you..." "I went for a walk and didn't meet them." "We know where you hang out..." I knelt down, looked at her feet, looked at her black head without a hood, I was already trembling inside, but I still pretended to admire the coal fire, the hot fire that flickered red and dim... Then suddenly I sat beside her, hugged her, pressed her to the floor, and caught her fire-heated lips, which were hidden by the double doors... The fire hook fell to the ground with a clatter, and sparks flew from the stove come out…… Like a criminal who committed murder suddenly, I hurriedly jumped onto the steps, took a breath, and looked around hurriedly to see if anyone was coming?But there was no one there, and the surrounding area was empty and silent.In the countryside, in the usual darkness of winter, nothing seemed to have happened, and the lights of the farmhouses were brightly lit, making you feel unbelievably peaceful... I looked, listened, and left the big town in a hurry. I don’t know that there is land under my feet, and I only have two completely opposite emotions in my heart: on the one hand, I feel that I have suddenly encountered a catastrophe in my life, which is irreparable, and it is terrible; … At night I slept restlessly--sorrow often plagued me, and a terrible, criminal, and shameful feeling suddenly killed me. "Yes, it's all over!" I thought, waking up with difficulty. "Everything is over, everything is ruined, but it seems that it has to be like this, anyway, it is irreparable now..." When I woke up in the morning, I saw everything around me with completely new eyes, looking at this room I knew so well, it was brightly lit by a night of fresh snow.There was no sun at this time, but the room was shiny with snow.When I opened my eyes, my first thought was naturally what happened last night.But this thought no longer frightened me; I was neither saddened nor despaired, nor ashamed nor guilty.Not at all. "How am I going to drink tea now?" I thought for a while. "What now? But nothing will happen," I thought. "Nobody knows, and never will. Everything is the same in the world, and it's even beautiful: outside I love the silence and White day, the bare branches are covered with fluff of snow, and the garden is piled with snow. While I was sleeping, someone had built the stove, and the whole room was warm, and now the stove is calling peacefully , from time to time, there was a crackling sound, and the copper furnace cover was shaken... The dead branches of poplar trees placed on the floor of the furnace room, some were frozen, and some were melting. It smells bitter and fresh...and what happened was logical, inevitable, it was bound to happen, because I'm seventeen years old...so I have a sense of manly pride and triumph again. Yesterday How foolish all I thought at night! How wonderful and terrible what happened yesterday! Perhaps it will happen again today! Oh, how I love her, and I will love her!" fourteen From this day on my terrible days began. It was a veritable mania that completely devoured my spiritual and physical strength.Life becomes only a moment of lust, the waiting for this moment, the agony of jealousy.Whenever Tonya's husband came to meet her, and at night she would leave her usual place to spend the night with him in the servants' room, this jealous passion would completely tear my heart apart. Does she love me?At first she loved me, although she kept it secret, but she was so happy for this kind of love that no matter how restrained she was, she couldn't hide her love for me, couldn't hide the brilliance in those small eyes that drooped down, and even served us When I was there, I even glanced at me in front of my elder brother and sister-in-law.Later, she sometimes loved me, sometimes she didn't love me—sometimes she was not only cold, but also hateful.These constant changes of feeling were inexplicable, unexpected, and distressed me greatly.I hate her very much sometimes, but even then, when I think of her silver earrings, of her soft, lovely, youthful lips, of her oval face and small drooping eyes, of her hair and The wild smell of the turban mingled with me and I shuddered.Had I returned even a moment of our former days of affection and happiness, I would have been so glad to kneel before her and be at her bidding. I tried everything I could to regain some measure of my old life, but all my days had long since become nothing more than a poor appearance of my former life. Winter went to spring... I didn't realize it at all. I didn't know why I just immersed myself in learning English. God suddenly saved me. It was a beautiful May day.I sat by the propped up window of my room with an English textbook.On the balcony next to me, the voices of my brother-in-law and mother came.I listened absently to what they were saying, and stared blankly at the book, while I pondered the most dubious idea.I thought, since my brother and sister-in-law have come to our place, then probably only Donika is at home alone.Thinking of this, I wish I could run to Alfirov's estate at once, if only to stay there for a quarter of an hour.However, when I realized that I was so corrupt and depraved, I couldn't help but feel extremely uncomfortable and extremely painful. I felt sorry for myself, and even thought that death is the greatest happiness.The garden was shining with a searing sun, the bees were buzzing, and sometimes a thin blue cloud was passing.In this bright spring sky, there is a piece of blue, and from time to time there is a cloud hanging high in the blue sky, gradually changing country, covering the sun.The sky slowly darkened and turned blue.The sky is getting bigger and higher.In this unattainable, spring-like, and vast world, suddenly the rumble of thunder rolled forward and gradually increased.The thunder was solemn and solemn, and it sounded quite pleasant... I picked up the pencil, still thinking about death, and began to write in the textbook: Again, on top of your heads again, Between clouds and lush trees, The deep sky is clear and lovely, A piece of blue, like a beautiful paradise. Again, the floating clouds began to shine again, The snow piled up like hills behind the woods, All the bees are motionless in the corolla, The god of spring strikes majestic thunder, And me, where am I going to be? "Are you at home?" said brother Nikolai, coming up to my window, in his usual stern tone. "Come here, I have something to tell you..." I felt my face turn pale, but I still stood up and jumped out of the window. "What's the matter?" I asked calmly, a little unnaturally. "Let's go for a walk," he said dryly, walking in front of me down the pond. "However, if you treat me calmly..." So he stopped, turned to me and said: "Well, my friend, of course you know that this is no secret to anyone..." "What's the matter?" I asked with difficulty. "Well, you know this very well... Now, I have to warn you: I fired her this morning, otherwise, this matter probably ended in a beating. He came back yesterday and came to me directly and said: "Nikolai Alexandrovitch, I already know everything, please let Antonina go now, otherwise, something bad will happen in the future..." You know, his face was as white as chalk, The lips are so dry that you can't even speak... I sincerely advise you to wake up and stop thinking about seeing her. It's no good, they are all gone somewhere around Rivne today..." Without answering a word, I walked past him and went straight to the pond, where I sat on the grass by the pond, where the new willow branches glistened and hung down to the clear silver water... in the bottomless water. In the vast sky, there was another majestic thunder. Around me, something big flew down rapidly, making a rustling sound, and a fresh breath of damp spring grass came to my nostrils... Straight, sparse raindrops, like fiberglass All the same, twinkle under the new big cloud.Clouds floated high above my head like balls of white snow, and the raindrops hit the calm and clear water, splashing and splashing, causing many black spots to appear in the pool water, and countless nails jumping out...