The Cossacks - graf Tolstoy Leo (suggested reading TXT) 📗
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across the river send him to me at the cordon, for I shan’t get
leave again for a long time now; I have some business with him.’
He began to get ready to start.
‘I will send him on,’ said the old women. ‘It seems you have been
spreeing at Yamka’s all the time. I went out in the night to see
the cattle, and I think it was your voice I heard singing songs.’
Lukashka did not reply, but went out into the passage, threw the
bags over his shoulder, tucked up the skirts of his coat, took his
musket, and then stopped for a moment on the threshold.
‘Good-bye, mother!’ he said as he closed the gate behind him.
‘Send me a small barrel with Nazarka. I promised it to the lads,
and he’ll call for it.’
‘May Christ keep you, Lukashka. God be with you! I’ll send you
some, some from the new barrel,’ said the old woman, going to the
fence: ‘But listen,’ she added, leaning over the fence.
The Cossack stopped.
‘You’ve been making merry here; well, that’s all right. Why should
not a young man amuse himself? God has sent you luck and that’s
good. But now look out and mind, my son. Don’t you go and get into
mischief. Above all, satisfy your superiors: one has to! And I
will sell the wine and find money for a horse and will arrange a
match with the girl for you.’
‘All right, all right!’ answered her son, frowning.
His deaf sister shouted to attract his attention. She pointed to
her head and the palm of her hand, to indicate the shaved head of
a Chechen. Then she frowned, and pretending to aim with a gun, she
shrieked and began rapidly humming and shaking her head. This
meant that Lukashka should kill another Chechen.
Lukashka understood. He smiled, and shifting the gun at his back
under his cloak stepped lightly and rapidly, and soon disappeared
in the thick mist.
The old woman, having stood a little while at the gate, returned
silently to the hut and immediately began working.
Lukasha returned to the cordon and at the same time Daddy Eroshka
whistled to his dogs and, climbing over his wattle fence, went to
Olenin’s lodging, passing by the back of the houses (he disliked
meeting women before going out hunting or shooting). He found
Olenin still asleep, and even Vanyusha, though awake, was still in
bed and looking round the room considering whether it was not time
to get up, when Daddy Eroshka, gun on shoulder and in full
hunter’s trappings, opened the door.
‘A cudgel!’ he shouted in his deep voice. ‘An alarm! The Chechens
are upon us! Ivan! get the samovar ready for your master, and get
up yourself—quick,’ cried the old man. ‘That’s our way, my good
man! Why even the girls are already up! Look out of the window.
See, she’s going for water and you’re still sleeping!’
Olenin awoke and jumped up, feeling fresh and lighthearted at the
sight of the old man and at the sound of his voice.
‘Quick, Vanyusha, quick!’ he cried.
‘Is that the way you go hunting?’ said the old man. ‘Others are
having their breakfast and you are asleep! Lyam! Here!’ he called
to his dog. ‘Is your gun ready?’ he shouted, as loud as if a whole
crowd were in the hut.
‘Well, it’s true I’m guilty, but it can’t be helped! The powder,
Vanyusha, and the wads!’ said Olenin.
‘A fine!’ shouted the old man.
‘Du tay voulay vou?’ asked Vanyusha, grinning.
‘You’re not one of us—your gabble is not like our speech, you
devil!’ the old man shouted at Vanyusha, showing the stumps of his
teeth.
‘A first offence must be forgiven,’ said Olenin playfully, drawing
on his high boots.
‘The first offence shall be forgiven,’ answered Eroshka, ‘but if
you oversleep another time you’ll be fined a pail of chikhir. When
it gets warmer you won’t find the deer.’
‘And even if we do find him he is wiser than we are,’ said Olenin,
repeating the words spoken by the old man the evening before, ‘and
you can’t deceive him!’
‘Yes, laugh away! You kill one first, and then you may talk. Now
then, hurry up! Look, there’s the master himself coming to see
you,’ added Eroshka, looking out of the window. ‘Just see how he’s
got himself up. He’s put on a new coat so that you should see that
he’s an officer. Ah, these people, these people!’
Sure enough Vanyusha came in and announced that the master of the
house wished to see Olenin.
‘L’arjan!’ he remarked profoundly, to forewarn his master of the
meaning of this visitation. Following him, the master of the house
in a new Circassian coat with an officer’s stripes on the
shoulders and with polished boots (quite exceptional among
Cossacks) entered the room, swaying from side to side, and
congratulated his lodger on his safe arrival.
The cornet, Elias Vasilich, was an educated Cossack. He had been
to Russia proper, was a regimental schoolteacher, and above all he
was noble. He wished to appear noble, but one could not help
feeling beneath his grotesque pretence of polish, his affectation,
his self-confidence, and his absurd way of speaking, he was just
the same as Daddy Eroshka. This could also be clearly seen by his
sunburnt face and his hands and his red nose. Olenin asked him to
sit down.
‘Good morning. Father Elias Vasilich,’ said Eroshka, rising with
(or so it seemed to Olenin) an ironically low bow.
‘Good morning. Daddy. So you’re here already,’ said the cornet,
with a careless nod.
The cornet was a man of about forty, with a grey pointed beard,
skinny and lean, but handsome and very fresh-looking for his age.
Having come to see Olenin he was evidently afraid of being taken
for an ordinary Cossack, and wanted to let Olenin feel his
importance from the first.
‘That’s our Egyptian Nimrod,’ he remarked, addressing Olenin and
pointing to the old man with a self-satisfied smile. ‘A mighty
hunter before the Lord! He’s our foremost man on every hand.
You’ve already been pleased to get acquainted with him.’
Daddy Eroshka gazed at his feet in their shoes of wet raw hide and
shook his head thoughtfully at the cornet’s ability and learning,
and muttered to himself: ‘Gyptian Nimvrod! What things he
invents!’
‘Yes, you see we mean to go hunting,’ answered Olenin.
‘Yes, sir, exactly,’ said the cornet, ‘but I have a small business
with you.’
‘What do you want?’
‘Seeing that you are a gentleman,’ began the cornet, ‘and as I may
understand myself to be in the rank of an officer too, and
therefore we may always progressively negotiate, as gentlemen do.’
(He stopped and looked with a smile at Olenin and at the old man.)
‘But if you have the desire with my consent, then, as my wife is a
foolish woman of our class, she could not quite comprehend your
words of yesterday’s date. Therefore my quarters might be let for
six rubles to the Regimental Adjutant, without the stables; but I
can always avert that from myself free of charge. But, as you
desire, therefore I, being myself of an officer’s rank, can come
to an agreement with you in everything personally, as an
inhabitant of this district, not according to our customs, but can
maintain the conditions in every way….’
‘Speaks clearly!’ muttered the old man.
The cornet continued in the same strain for a long time. At last,
not without difficulty, Olenin gathered that the cornet wished to
let his rooms to him, Olenin, for six rubles a month. The latter
gladly agreed to this, and offered his visitor a glass of tea. The
cornet declined it.
‘According to our silly custom we consider it a sort of sin to
drink out of a “worldly” tumbler,’ he said. ‘Though, of course,
with my education I may understand, but my wife from her human
weakness…’
‘Well then, will you have some tea?’
‘If you will permit me, I will bring my own particular glass,’
answered the cornet, and stepped out into the porch.
‘Bring me my glass!’ he cried.
In a few minutes the door opened and a young sunburnt arm in a
print sleeve thrust itself in, holding a tumbler in the hand. The
cornet went up, took it, and whispered something to his daughter.
Olenin poured tea for the cornet into the latter’s own
‘particular’ glass, and for Eroshka into a ‘worldly’ glass.
‘However, I do not desire to detain you,’ said the cornet,
scalding his lips and emptying his tumbler. ‘I too have a great
liking for fishing, and I am here, so to say, only on leave of
absence for recreation from my duties. I too have the desire to
tempt fortune and see whether some Gifts of the Terek may not fall
to my share. I hope you too will come and see us and have a drink
of our wine, according to the custom of our village,’ he added.
The cornet bowed, shook hands with Olenin, and went out. While
Olenin was getting ready, he heard the cornet giving orders to his
family in an authoritative and sensible tone, and a few minutes
later he saw him pass by the window in a tattered coat with his
trousers rolled up to his knees and a fishing net over his
shoulder.
‘A rascal!’ said Daddy Eroshka, emptying his ‘worldly’ tumbler.
‘And will you really pay him six rubles? Was such a thing ever
heard 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 lighthearted.
‘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
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