'You never saw anything . ..'
'Oh yes I did! And this winter before Christmas on the Ten Marryrs of Crete, when that snow-storm lasted all day and night - remember? - the Marshal's clerk lost his way and finished up here, the blighter . . . Fancy you falling for a miserable little clerk like that! He wasn't worth stirring up God's weather for! A snotty-nosed linle devil nottwo foot offtheground, his mug covered in pimples and his neck all awry . . . Ifhe'd been handsome, it'd make sense, but he was as ugly as sin!'
The subdeacon pausedfor breath, wiped his mouth and cocked his ear. There was no sound of the bell, but then a sudden gust of wind leapt over the roof and the tinkling started again in the darkness outside.
'Same thing now!' Savely went on. 'The post hasn't lost its way by accident. Spit in my eye if they aren't looking for you! Oh, the devil knows his job, he's a good helpmate! Round and round he'll lead them and land them up here. Oh yes! I see your game! You can't hide it from me! Devil's chatter-box, lustful pagan! As soon as the storm began, I knew what you were up to.'
'What an idiot!' laughed his wife. 'Do you really think in that stupid head of yours that I cause bad weather?'
'Hm ... You can laugh! Maybe you do, maybe you don't, but what I know is this: as soon as your blood begins to itch, there's bad weather, and as soon as there's bad weather, some stupid fool or other gets blown in here. Without fail! So it must be your doing!'
To add weight to his words, the subdeacon placed one finger on his brow, closed his left eye and began intoning:
'O folly incarnate! O accursed Judas! If thou an a human being and not a witch, stop and ask yourself: suppose they weren't crafts- men, gamekeepers or clerks, butthe devil in human form? Eh? What about that?'
'Savely, this is nonsense,' Raisa sighed and looked at her husband pityingly. 'When my Papa was alive and lived here, all kinds of people used to come to him to be cured ofthe fever. They came from the village, the settlements and the Armenian farmsteads. They used to come here every day - and no one called them devils, did they ? But now if anyone so much as drops in once a yeartowarm up when the weather's rough, you think it's the end of the world, you dolt, and start getting all sorts of ideas.'
The logic of his wife's argument affected Savely. He planted his bare feet wide apart, lowered his head, and pondered. His suspicions had not yet become firm convictions, and his wife's natural, uncon- cerned tone had thrown him completely off balance; nevertheless,
after a littlc thought he shook his head and said:
It's ncvcr old mcn or cripples, either — it's always youngoncs who want to come in hcrc for thc night . . . So why's that? Nor's it just warmth they'rc aftcr, thcy're up to mischief. Nq, woman, thcre's no crcaturc on c.arth more cunning than womankind! There's not an ounce of real brain in you, a sparrow's got morc intclligence, but as for your guile - your dcvilish guile - may the Holy Mother of God prcservc us! Thcre's the hell again! The storm was only just starting, hut I kncw exactly what you wcrc up to! You've becn witching, you spidcress !'
'Oh leave off, damn you!' said his wife, losing patience. 'Why have you got your teeth into me?'
Tll tell you why. If anything happens tonight -God forbid that it should, hutifit docs . . . ifit does -are you listeningtome? -thcn I'm going off first thing tomorrow morning to Dyadkovo to see Father Nikodim and tcll him everything. It's like this, I'll say, I beg you to forgive me, Father Nikodim, hut she's a witch. How do I know? Mm . . . you wish mc to tell you? Very well thcn. It's like this, I'll say. Then you'll be for it, woman! You'll be punished not only on the Day of Judgment, but in this lifc, too! There are prayers in the prayer- book specially for dealing with the likes of you!'
Suddcnly there was a hang on the window, so loud and out of the ordinarv that Savely turned pale and his knees buckled with fright. His wife jumped up and also turned pale.
'For God's sake, let us in to thc warm!' came a deep, shaking voice. 'Who's in there? Let us in, will you, we've lost our way!'
'Who is it?' asked the subdeacon's wife, too scared to look at the window.
'The post!' a second voice replied.
'So your devilling's worked!' said Savely, turning aside. 'I was right then . . . Well, just you watch it!'
The subdeacon jumped up and down a couple of times, sprawled onto the hed and turned his face to the wall with an angry snort. Soon he felt a cold blast in the back. The door creaked and the tall figure of a man, plastered in snow from head to foot, appeared in the door- way. Standing bchind was another figure, equally white . ..
'Shall I bring in the bags?' asked the second figure in a deep hoarse voice.
'Can't leave them out there!'
So saying, the first figure began to untie his hood, but without waiting till it was undone, he wrenched it off along with his peak cap and hurled them both angrily towards the stove. Then he pulled off his greatcoat, threw it in the same direction and without a word of greeting began to stride about the room.
He was a fair-haired young post-officer in a shabby old uniform and dirty yellowish-brown boots. After warming himself by pacing to and fro, he sat down at the table, stretched his dirty boots out towards Raisa's sacks and propped his head up on his fist. His face, pale but with red blotches, still bore traces of the pain and terror he had just come through. Distorted with rage, still bearing the fresh traces of recent physical and mental suffering, and with snow melt- ing on the eyebrows, moustache and small round beard, it was beautiful.
'What a dog's life!' grumbled the postman, his eyes roaming all over the walls as if he could not believe he was in the warm. 'We almost had it! But for your light, I don't know what would have happened . . . To hell with this dog's life! When's it all going to end? Where are we then?' he asked, lowering his voice and glancing up quickly at the subdeacon's wife.
'Gulyayevsky Hill, General Kalinovsky's estate,' she replied, star- tled, and blushed.
'Hear that, Stepan?' the postman turned to the driver, who had stopped in the doorway with a large leather bag on his back. 'We're on Gulyayevsky Hill!'
'Cor . . . way off!'
After uttering the last two words in the form of a hoarse, broken sigh, the driver went out again, and soon after came in with another, smaller, mailbag; then he went out once again and this time came back with the postman's sabre on a wide belt, rather like the long flat sword with which Judith is depicted on popular woodcuts before the couch of Holofernes. Having piled the bags along the wall, he went and sat down in the outer passage and lit his pipe.
'Maybe you'd care for some tea after your journey?' asked the subdeacon's wife.
'No time for tea-drinking!' frowned the postman. 'We must warm up quickly and move on, otherwise we'll be late for the mail-train. Ten minutes and we must be off. Only I'm afraid we're going to need someone to come along as guide . . .'
'It's an infliction, this weather,' sighed the subdeacon's wife.
'Y-es . . . And you - what do you do here?'
'Oh, we live here, we're attached to the church . . . We're members of the clergy . . . That's my husband over there! Savely, get up and s;iy hello! This used to be a separate parish, but eighteen months ago they closed the church down. Of course, when the family lived on the estate and there were people here, it was wonh keeping the church open, but you can imagine, once they wem, what was there for the clergy w live on, seeing as how the nearest village is Markovka, and that's more than five versts away! Now Savely's on the unanached list and . .. and does the watchman's job. He's responsible for keeping an eye on the church . . .'
And there and then the postman also learned that if Savely were w go and see the General's wife and ask her for a note to the Bishop, he would be given a good living; but he wouldn't go to see the General's wife, because he was lazy and scared of people.