We also play smothers, and that's fun too: you stuff a pillow in someone's face and smother him, and he flails and splutters and when he gets away, he's all red and sweaty, and his hair's sticking out like a harpy's. People rarely die, our guys are strong, they fight, there's a lot of strength in their muscles. Why? Because they work a lot, they plant turnips in the fields, crack stones, gather sheaves, chop trees into logs. There's no need to go insulting us, to say that there's still some brains smoldering in us: our brains are smart enough. We aren't quick, but we figure things out. We've figured out that the beriawood tree is a good tree for pinocchios and buckets, and it makes fine barrels. The elfir is also a wonderful tree, just right for bathhouse switches, and its nuts are tasty, and a lot of other things, but you can't carve a symbol from it because it's got too much resin, it bleeds all sticky. Birch, now, it's nice to look at, but the trunk is thin and crooked, it's hard to carve. The jeopard tree is even thinner, all knots and bumps, in a word: the jeopard tree. The willow won't do, the beantree is stringy, and the grab tree is wet year-round. There are a lot of other kinds when you count them, and we know them all. So now we'll strip the bark, mark the holes with a stone chisel… and whip up an idol before the wedding.
Benedikt sighed, whispered, and spat just like they tell you to -God bless!-and went at the beriawood tree with an ax.
ON
You couldn't see the terem of Olenka's family from the street. The fence was high and deep, with sharp spikes on top. There was a gate in the middle. In the gate was a stone ring. To one side of the gate was a booth. In the booth was a serf.
When Benedikt proposed to Olenka, he told her he wanted to send matchmakers ahead of him. It was easier that way-the matchmakers would say everything that needed to be said about you, make a deal, settle everything. They'd praise you to the skies behind your back: he's so this and so that, they'd say, and you should see him do this, he's not a man, he's a rose in bloom, a fleet falcon. But Olenka objected: No, no. No matchmakers, we're a modern family… don't send them. Just come yourself. We'll sit and chat of this and that. We'll eat…
He took some presents: a string of mice, a jug of kvas-so as not to go empty-handed-and a bouquet of bluebells.
Everything was going right. But he was nervous. What would happen?
He went up to the gate and stood there. The serf came out of the booth, irritated.
"Who do you want?"
"I'm Olga Kudeyarovna's co-worker."
"By appointment?"
"By appointment."
"Wait here."
The serf returned to the booth and rustled some bark for a long time.
"What's your name?"
Benedikt told him. The serf rustled something again.
"Go in."
He opened a small gate in the fence and Benedikt entered. There was another fence about five yards from the first. And another booth with a serf, even more irritated than the first.
"Who do you want?"
"I'm Olga Kudeyarovna's co-worker."
"What've you got there?"
"Presents."
"Hand over the presents."
"Why… how… I was invited, how can I go without presents?"
"Hand over the presents and sign here." The serf didn't even seem to hear Benedikt. He unrolled the bark and wrote: "Mice -one dozen ordinary household. Kvas, small wooden jug- one. Blue wildflowers-one bunch."
Benedikt suddenly balked. He got mad. "I won't hand over the flowers!!! You have no right!!! I was personally invited by Olga Kudeyarovna!!!"
Before signing, he crossed out "flowers."
The serf thought for a moment. "Go to the dogs. Go on, get outta here."
How mean he put it-"to the dogs." But he let him in. They let him through the second fence-and then there was a third. Two serfs rose from the bench at the third gate and without saying a word, bad or good, they patted Benedikt all over. They wanted to see if he had hidden something in his pants or under his shirt. But the only extra thing he had was a tail.
"Go on."
Benedikt thought there would be another fence, but no, there wasn't, instead an enormous garden opened up with trees and flowers and all kinds of huts and sheds and little paths of yellowish sand. At the back of the garden stood the terem. Benedikt hadn't been really scared before, but now he was petrified: he'd never seen such wealth and magnificence. His heart thudded and his tail wagged back and forth, back and forth. His eyes clouded over. He didn't remember how they led him into the house.
The serfs brought him and left him alone in a room. Some time passed and he heard a scraping sound behind the doors. There was more scraping, the doors opened-and He Himself came out. Olenka's Papa. The owner of all this. His future father-in-law.
He smiled. "Welcome. We're expecting you. Benedikt Karp-ich? My name is Kudeyar Kudeyarich."
And he looked at him. Benedikt looked back. But he couldn't move-his legs seemed rooted to the floor.
Kudeyar Kudeyarich was big-that is, long and tall. His neck was long, and his head was small. The top of his head was sort of bald, and around his bald spot there was a pale crown of fair hair. He had no beard, and a long, sticklike mouth, whose corners seemed to turn down. He kept opening and closing his mouth as though he wasn't used to breathing and had decided he'd try it out every which way. His eyes were round and yellow, like firelings, and at the bottom of his eyes there seemed to be a light burning.
He was wearing a big white shirt, unbelted. His britches were wide, even wider at the bottom. He wore plain old house lapty on his feet.
"Why are you standing there, Benedikt Karpich? Come and sit down at the table."
He took Benedikt by the elbow and moved him into another chamber. The table was set. Wooow! There was so much food! From one end to the other-bowls and more bowls, all kinds of dishes, pots and plates! Countless pies, bliny, pancakes, twist rolls, pretzels, colored noodles! And peas! And sheaves of pickled horsetail set in the corners! And the marshrooms… bucket-fuls, brimming over, any minute they would jump off the edge. And whole birds, tiny ones wrapped in dough: the legs stuck out at one end and the head at the other! And in the middle of the table-a roast. Whoa, a goat! They've got a whole goat on the table, and they had to raise that goat too! So the serfs had been right to take away his gifts: what was he doing with a bunch of mice when there was a whole goat!
Olenka sat at the table all decked out, her cheeks rouged, her eyes lowered. That's the way Benedikt saw her in his visions, sitting like that: wearing a white blouse, her neck wound with beads, her hair combed smoothly, a ribbon on her brow! And as soon as Benedikt entered the dining room, Olenka blushed even redder. She didn't lift her eyes, but smiled to herself.
Yikes!
And on the other side of the dining room another door opened and his mother-in-law came in. Rather, floated in: the woman was wide as a house, half of her was in the dining room saying hello while the other half hadn't even made it through the door, you had to wait.
"And this," his father-in-law said, "is our wife, Fevronia. One of the oldest families, descended from the French."
"That's the family legend," said his mother-in-law.
Benedikt bowed with one hand, presented the bouquet of bluebells with the other, and fell at his mother-in-law's feet.
"The vittles are getting cold," said his mother-in-law. "Eat up, don't be shy."
They sat down on the benches. Benedikt opposite Olenka, Father- and Mother-in-law side by side.