Alëkha lifted his head.
‘I have a mother,’ said he; ‘I have a father too. All have given me up. Listen to me, old woman,’ he went on, taking Elijah’s mother by the hand. ‘I have given you presents. Listen to me for Christ’s sake! Go to Vódnoe village, ask for the old woman Nikónovna – she’s my own mother, see? Say to this same old woman, Nikónovna, the third hut from the end, by the new well. Tell her that Alëkha – her son, you see.… Eh! musician! strike up!’ he shouted.
And muttering something he immediately began dancing again, and hurled the bottle with the remaining vodka to the ground.
Ignát got into the cart and was about to start.
‘Good-bye! May God bless you!’ said the old woman, wrapping her cloak closer round her.
Alëkha suddenly stopped.
‘Go to the devil!’ he shouted, clenching his fists threateningly. ‘May your mother be …’
‘O Lord!’ exclaimed Elijah’s mother, crossing herself.
Ignát touched the reins, and the carts rattled on again. Alëkha, the recruit, stood in the middle of the road with clenched fists and with a look of fury on his face, and abused the peasants with all his might.
‘What are you stopping for? Go on, devils! cannibals!’ he cried. ‘You won’t escape me! … Devil’s clodhoppers!’
At these words his voice broke, and he fell full length to the ground just where he stood.
Soon the Dútlovs reached the open fields, and looking back could no longer see the crowd of recruits. Having gone some four miles at a walking pace Ignát got down from his father’s cart, in which the old man lay asleep, and walked beside Elijah’s cart.
Between them they emptied the bottle they had brought from town. After a while Elijah began a song, the women joined in, and Ignát shouted merrily in time with the song. A post-chaise drove merrily towards them. The driver called lustily to his horses as he passed the two festive carts, and the post-boy turned round and winked at the men and women who with flushed faces sat jolting inside singing their jovial song.
1 The Intercession of the Virgin, the ist of October old style.
2 The Village Commune.
3 ‘Dare to err and dream.’
4 Made by scalding wood-ash taken from the stove, and used for washing clothes.
5 It sometimes happened that to escape service men mutilated themselves, for instance by cutting off the finger needed to pull the trigger.
6 Equal to 462 ‘silver rubles’, at 3 1/2 assignations for one silver ruble.
7 The abacus, with wires and beads to count on, was much used in Russia.
8 Julia Pastrana was exhibited as being half-woman half-monkey, and created a considerable sensation.
9 On being conscripted a man’s head was partially shaved to make desertion more difficult.
Three Tales for Children
(1) GOD SEES THE TRUTH, BUT WAITS
IN the town of Vladímir lived a young merchant named Iván Dmítritch Aksyónof. He had two shops and a house of his own.
Aksyónof was a handsome, fair-haired, curly-headed fellow, full of fun, and very fond of singing. When quite a young man he had been given to drink, and was riotous when he had had too much; but after he married he gave up drinking, except now and then.
One summer Aksyónof was going to the Nízhny Fair, and as he bade good-bye to his family his wife said to him, ‘Iván Dmítritch, do not start to-day; I have had a bad dream about you.’
Aksyónof laughed, and said, ‘You are afraid that when I get to the fair I shall go on the spree.’
His wife replied: ‘I do not know what I am afraid of; all I know is that I had a bad dream. I dreamt you returned from the town, and when you took off your cap I saw that your hair was quite grey.’
Aksyónof laughed. ‘That’s a lucky sign,’ said he. ‘See if I don’t sell out all my goods, and bring you some presents from the fair.’
So he said good-bye to his family, and drove away.
When he had travelled half-way, he met a merchant whom he knew, and they put up at the same inn for the night. They had some tea together, and then went to bed in adjoining rooms.
It was not Aksyónof’s habit to sleep late, and, wishing to travel while it was still cool, he aroused his driver before dawn, and told him to put in the horses.
Then he made his way across to the landlord of the inn (who lived in a cottage at the back), paid his bill, and continued his journey.
When he had gone about twenty-five miles, he stopped for the horses to be fed. Aksyónof rested a while in the passage of the inn, then he stepped out into the porch, and, ordering a samovar to be heated, got out his guitar and began to play.
Suddenly a tróyka drove up with tinkling bells, and an official alighted, followed by two soldiers. He came to Aksyónof and began to question him, asking him who he was and whence he came. Aksyónof answered him fully, and said, ‘Won’t you have some tea with me?’ But the official went on cross-questioning him and asking him, ‘Where did you spend last night? Were you alone, or with a fellow-merchant? Did you see the other merchant this morning? Why did you leave the inn before dawn?’
Aksyónof wondered why he was asked all these questions, but he described all that had happened, and then added, ‘Why do you cross-question me as if I were a thief or a robber? I am travelling on business of my own, and there is no need to question me.’
Then the official, calling the soldiers, said, ‘I am the police-officer of this district, and I question you because the merchant with whom you spent last night has been found with his throat cut. We must search your things.’
They entered the house. The soldiers and the police-officer unstrapped Aksyónof’s luggage and searched it. Suddenly the officer drew a knife out of a bag, crying, ‘Whose knife is this?’
Aksyónof looked, and seeing a blood-stained knife taken from his bag, he was frightened.
‘How is it there is blood on this knife?’
Aksyónof tried to answer, but could hardly utter a word, and only stammered: ‘I – I don’t know – not mine.’
Then the police-officer said, ‘This morning the merchant was found in bed with his throat cut. You are the only person who could have done it. The house was locked from inside, and no one else was there. Here is this blood-stained knife in your bag, and your face and manner betray you! Tell me how you killed him, and how much money you stole?’
Aksyónof swore he had not done it; that he had not seen the merchant after they had had tea together; that he had no money except eight thousand rubles of his own, and that the knife was not his. But his voice was broken, his face pale, and he trembled with fear as though he were guilty.
The police-officer ordered the soldiers to bind Aksyónof and to put him in the cart. As they tied his feet together and flung him into the cart, Aksyónof crossed himself and wept. His money and goods were taken from him, and he was sent to the nearest town and imprisoned there. Enquiries as to his character were made in Vladímir. The merchants and other inhabitants of that town said that in former days he used to drink and waste his time, but that he was a good man. Then the trial came on: he was charged with murdering a merchant from Ryazán, and robbing him of twenty thousand rubles.
His wife was in despair, and did not know what to believe. Her children were all quite small; one was a baby at her breast. Taking them all with her, she went to the town where her husband was in gaol. At first she was not allowed to see him; but, after much begging, she obtained permission from the officials, and was taken to him. When she saw her husband in prison-dress and in chains, shut up with thieves and criminals, she fell down, and did not come to her senses for a long time. Then she drew her children to her, and sat down near him. She told him of things at home, and asked about what had happened to him. He told her all, and she asked, ‘What can we do now?’