 Chapter 1 All is quiet in Moscow. The squeak of wheels is seldom heard in the snow-covered street. There are no lights left in the windows, and the street lamps have been extinguished. Only the sound of bells, born over the city from the church towers, suggests the approach of mourning. The streets are deserted. At rare intervals a night-cabin sledge needs up the snow and sand in the street, as the driver makes his way to another corner where he falls asleep while waiting for a fare. An old woman passes by on her way to church, where a few wax candles burn with a red light reflected on the gilt mountings of the icons. Workmen are already getting up after the long winter night, and going to their work. But for the gentlefolk it is still evening. From a window in Chevalier's restaurant, a light, illegal at that hour, is still to be seen through a chink in the shutter. At the entrance a carriage, a sledge, and a cabin sledge stand close together with their backs to the curb-stone. A three-horse sledge from the post-station is there also. A yard-porter muffled up and pinched with cold is sheltering behind the corner of the house. And what's the good of all this joy, thinks the footman, who sits in the hall weary and haggard. This always happens when I'm on duty. From the adjoining room I heard the voices of three young men, sitting there at a table on which are wine and the remains of supper. One, a rather plain, thin, neat little man, sits looking with tired, kindly eyes at his friend, who is about to start on a journey. Another, a tall man, lies on a sofa beside a table, on which are empty bottles, and plays with his watch-key. A third, wearing a short, fur-lined coat, is pacing up and down the room, stopping now and then, to crack an almond between his strong, rather thick, but well-tended fingers. He keeps smiling at something, and his face and eyes are all aglow. He speaks warmly and gesticulates, but evidently does not find the words he wants, and those that occur to him seem to him inadequate to express what has risen to his heart. Now I can speak out fully, said the traveller. I don't want to defend myself, but I should like you at least to understand me as I understand myself, and not look at the matter superficially. You say I have treated her badly, he continued, addressing the man with the kindly eyes who was watching him. Yes, you are to blame, said the latter, and his look seemed to express still more kindness and weariness. I know why you say that, rejoined the one who was leaving. To be loved is in your opinion as greater happiness as to love, and if a man obtains it, it is enough for his whole life. Yes, quite enough, my dear fellow, more than enough, confirmed the plain little man, opening and shutting his eyes. But why shouldn't the man love too, said the traveller thoughtfully, looking at his friend with something like pity? Why shouldn't one love? Because love doesn't come, no. To be loved is a misfortune. It is a misfortune to feel guilty, because you do not give something you cannot give. Oh, my God! He added with a gesture of his arm. If it all happened reasonably, and not all topsy-turvy, not in our way, but in a way of its own, why hits as if I had stolen that love? You think so too, don't deny it. You must think so. But will you believe it, of all the horrid and stupid things I have found time to do in my life? And there are many. This is one I do not and cannot repent of. Neither at the beginning nor afterwards did I lie to myself or to her. It seemed to me that I had at last fallen in love. But then I saw that it was an involuntary falsehood, and that that was not the way to love, and I could not go on, but she did. Am I to blame that I couldn't? What was I to do? Well, it's ended now, said his friend, lighting a cigar to master his sleepiness. The fact is that you have not yet loved, and do not know what love is. The man in the fur-lined coat was going to speak again, and put his hands to his head, but could not express what he wanted to say. Never loved. Yes, quite true. I never have. But after all, I have within me a desire to love, and nothing could be stronger than that desire. But then, again, does such love exist? There always remained something incomplete. Ah, well, what's the use of talking? I've made an awful mess of life. But anyhow, it's all over now. You're quite right, and I feel that I'm beginning a new life. Which you will again make a mess of, said the man who lay on the sofa playing with his watch-key. But the traveller did not listen to him. I am sad, and yet glad to go, he continued. Why I am sad, I don't know. And the traveller went on talking about himself, without noticing that this did not interest the others as much as it did him. A man is never such an egotist as at moments of spiritual ecstasy. At such times, it seems to him that there is nothing on earth more splendid and interesting than himself. Dmitry Andreech, the coachman won't wait any longer, said a young surf entering the room in a sheepskin coat, with the scarf tied round his head. The horses have been standing since twelve, and it's now four o'clock. Dmitry Andreech looked at his surf, Vanusha. The scarf round Vanusha's head, his felt boots and sleepy face, seemed to be calling his master to a new life of labour, hardship and activity. True enough, goodbye, said he, feeling for the unfastened hook and eye on his coat. In spite of advice to modify the coachman by another tip, he put on his cap and stood in the middle of the room. The friends kissed once, then again, and after a pause, a third time. The man in the fur-lined coat approached the table and emptied a champagne glass, then took the plain little man's hand and blushed. Ah, well, I speak out all the same. I must, and will be frank with you, because I'm fond of you. Of course you love her. I always thought so, don't you?" Yes, answered his friend, smiling still more gently. And perhaps, "'Please, sir, I have orders to put out the candles,' said the sleepy attendant, who had been listening to the last part of the conversation, but wondering why gentlefolk always talk about one and the same thing. To whom shall I make out the bill? To you, sir,' he added, knowing whom to address and turning to the tall man. "'To me,' replied the tall man. How much?' "'Twenty-six rubles,' the tall man considered for a moment, but said nothing, and put the bill in his pocket. The other two continued their talk. "'Goodbye, you are a capital fellow,' said the short plain man with the mild eyes. Tears filled the eyes of both. They stepped into the porch. "'Oh, by the by,' said the traveller, turning with a blush to the tall man. "'Will you settle Chevalier's bill and write and let me know?' "'All right, all right,' said the tall man, pulling on his gloves. "'How I envy you,' he added, quite unexpectedly, when they were out in the porch. The traveller got into his sledge, wrapped his coat about him, and said, "'Well, then, come along!' he even moved a little to make room in the sledge, for the man who said he envied him, his voice trembled. "'Goodbye, Mitya. I hope that with God's help you,' said the tall one. But his wish was that the other would go away quickly, and so he could not finish the sentence. They were silent a moment. Then someone again said, "'Goodbye!' and a voice cried, "'Ready!' and the coachman touched up the horses. "'Hi, Elisa!' one of the friends called out, and the other coachman and the sledge-drivers began moving, clicking their tongues and pulling at the reins. Then the stiffened carriage-wheels rolled, squeaking over the frozen snow. "'A fine fellow, that Olinin,' said one of the friends. "'But what an idea to go to the Caucasus, as a cadet, too! I wouldn't do it for anything. Are you dining at the club tomorrow?' "'Yes.'" They separated. The traveller felt warm. His fur coat seemed too hot. He sat on the bottom of the sledge and unfastened his coat, and the three shaggy post-horses dragged themselves out of one dark street into another, past houses he had never before seen. It seemed to Olinin that only travellers starting on a long journey went through those streets. All was dark and silent, and dull around him. But his soul was full of memories, love, regrets, and a pleasant tearful feeling. End of Chapter 1. Chapter 2 of the Cossacks. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. The Cossacks by Leo Tolstoy. Translated by Louise and Elmer Mord. Chapter 2. I'm fond of them, very fond. First-rate fellows, fine! He kept repeating, and felt ready to cry. But why he wanted to cry? Who were the first-rate fellows he was so fond of? Was more than he quite knew. Now and then he looked round at some house, and wondered why it was so curiously built. Sometimes he began wondering why the post-boy, and Vanusia, who were so different from himself, sat so near, and together with him were being jerked about, and swayed by the tugs the side-horses gave at the frozen traces. And again he repeated, First-rate, very fond! And once he even said, And how it seizes one! Excellent! And wondered what made him say it. Dear me, am I drunk? He asked himself. He had had a couple of bottles of wine, but it was not the wine alone that was having this effect on our linen. He remembered all the words of friendship heartily, bashfully, spontaneously, as he believed, addressed to him on his departure. He remembered the clasp of hands, glances, the moments of silence, and the sound of a voice saying, Goodbye, Mitya! when he was already in the sledge. He remembered his own deliberate frankness, and all this had a touching significance for him. Not only friends and relatives, not only people who had been indifferent to him, but even those who did not like him, seemed to have agreed to become fonder of him, or to forgive him before his departure, as people do before confession or death. Perhaps I shall not return from the Caucasus, he thought, and he felt that he loved his friends and someone besides. He was sorry for himself. But it was not love for his friends that so stirred and uplifted his heart that he could not repress the meaningless words that seemed to rise of themselves to his lips. Nor was it love for a woman. He had never yet been in love, that had brought on this mood. Love for himself, love full of hope, warm, young love for all that was good in his own soul, and at that moment it seemed to him that there was nothing but good in it, compelled him to weep and to mutter incoherent words. Olenin was a youth who had never completed his university course, never served anywhere, having only a nominal post in some government office or other, who had squandered half his fortune and had reached the age of 24 without having done anything or even chosen a career. He was what in Moscow society is termed Anzhenom. At the age of 18 he was free, as only rich young Russians in the 40s who had lost their parents at an early age could be. Neither physical nor moral fetters of any kind existed for him. He could do as he liked, lacking nothing and bound by nothing. Neither relatives nor fatherland, nor religion nor wants existed for him. He believed in nothing and admitted nothing. But although he believed in nothing, he was not a morose or blasé young man, nor self-opinionated, but on the contrary continually let himself be carried away. He had come to the conclusion that there is no such thing as love, yet his heart always overflowed in the presence of any young and attractive woman. He had long been aware that honors and position were nonsense, yet involuntarily he felt pleased when at a ball Prince Sergius came up and spoke to him affably. But he yielded to his impulses only insofar as they did not limit his freedom. As soon as he had yielded to any influence and become conscious of its leading on to labor and struggle, he instinctively hastened to free himself from the feeling or activity into which he was being drawn and to regain his freedom. In this way, he experimented with society life, the civil service, farming, music, to which at one time he intended to devote his life and even with the love of women in which he did not believe. He meditated on the use to which he should devote that power of youth which is granted to man only once in a lifetime. That force which gives a man the power of making himself or even, as it seemed to him, of making the universe into anything he wishes, should it be to art, to science, to love of women, or to practical activities? It is true that some people are devoid of this impulse and on entering life at one place, their necks under the first yoke that offers itself and honestly labor under it for the rest of their lives. But Olinin was too strongly conscious of the presence of that all-powerful God of youth, of that capacity to be entirely transformed into an aspiration or idea, the capacity to wish and to do, to throw oneself headlong into a bottomless abyss without knowing why or wherefore. He bore this consciousness within himself, was proud of it and without knowing it, was happy in that consciousness. Up to that time he had loved only himself and could not help loving himself for he expected nothing but good of himself and had not yet had time to be disillusioned. On leaving Moscow he was in that happy state of mind in which a young man, conscious of past mistakes, suddenly says to himself, that was not the real thing. All that had gone before was accidental and unimportant. Till then he had not really tried to live but now with his departure from Moscow, a new life was beginning, a life in which there would be no mistakes, no remorse and certainly nothing but happiness. It is always the case on a long journey that till the first two or three stages have been passed, imagination continues to dwell on the place left behind but with the first morning on the road it leaps to the end of the journey and there begins building castles in the air. So it happened to Olenin. After leaving the town behind, he gazed at the snowy fields and felt glad to be alone in their midst. Wrapping himself in his fur coat, he lay at the bottom of the sledge, became tranquil and fell into a dose. The parting with his friends had touched him deeply and memories of that last winter spent in Moscow and images of the past mingled with vague thoughts and regrets rose unbidden in his imagination. He remembered the friend who had seen him off and his relations with the girl they had talked about, the girl's rich. How could he love her knowing that she loved me, thought he, and evil suspicions crossed his mind? There is much dishonesty in men when one comes to reflect. Then he was confronted by the question, but really, how is it I have never been in love? Everyone tells me that I never have. Can it be that I am a moral monstrosity? And he began to recall all his infatuations. He recalled his entry into society and a friend's sister with whom he spent several evenings at a table with a lamp on it which lit up her slender fingers busy with needlework and the lower part of her pretty, delicate face. He recalled their conversations, but dragged on like the game in which one passes on a stick which one keeps a light as long as possible and the general awkwardness and restraint and his continual feeling of rebellion at all that conventionality. Some voice had always whispered, that's not it, that's not it. And so it had proved. Then he remembered a ball and the miserkey he danced with the beautiful D. How much in love I was that night and how happy and how hurt and vexed I was next morning when I woke and felt myself still free. Why does not love come and bind me hand and foot? thought he. No, there is no such thing as love. That neighbor who used to tell me, as she told Dubrovine and the Marshall, that she loved the stars was not it either. And now his farming and work in the country recurred to his mind. And in those recollections also, there was nothing to dwell on with pleasure. Will they talk long of my departure, came into his head, but who they were, he did not quite know. Next came a thought that made him wince and mutter incoherently. It was the recollection of Monsieur Capel the tailor and the 678 roubles he still owed him and he recalled the words in which he had begged him to wait another year and the look of perplexity and resignation which had appeared on the tailor's face. Oh my God, my God, he repeated, wincing and trying to drive away the intolerable thought. All the same and in spite of everything, she loved me, thought he of the girl they talked about at the farewell supper. Yes, had I married her, I should not now be owing anything and as it is, I am in debt to Vasiliev. Then he remembered the last night he had played with Vasiliev at the club, just after leaving her and he recalled his humiliating requests for another game and the other's cold refusal. A year's economising and they will all be paid and the devil take them. But despite this assurance he again began calculating his outstanding debts, their dates and when he could hope to pay them off. And I owe something to Moral as well as to Chevalier, thought he, recalling the night when he had run up so large a debt. It was at a carousel at the gypsies arranged by some fellows from Petersburg. Sashka B. and Eddaconda to the Tsar, Prince D. and that pompous old. How is it those gentlemen are so self-satisfied, thought he, and by what right do they form a clique to which they think others must be highly flattered to be admitted? Can it be because they are on the emperor's staff? Why? It's awful what fools and scoundrels they consider other people to be. But I showed them that I, at any rate, on the contrary do not at all want their intimacy. All the same, I fancy Andrew, the steward, would be amazed to know that I am on familiar terms with a man like Sashka B., a colonel and an Eddaconda to the Tsar. Yes, and no one drank more than I did that evening, and I taught the gypsies a new song and everyone listened to it. Though I have done many foolish things, all the same I am a very good fellow, thought he. Morning found him at the third post stage. He drank tea, and himself helped Vanusia to move his bundles and trunks and sat down among them, sensible, erect, and precise, knowing where all his belongings were, how much money he had, and where it was, where he had put his passport and the post-horse requisition and tollgate papers, and it all seemed to him so well arranged that he grew quite cheerful, and the long journey before him seemed to be a pleasure trip. All that morning and noon he was deep in calculations of how many bursts he had travelled, how many remained to the next stage, how many to the next town, to the place where he would dine, to the place where he would drink tea, and to Stavropong, and what fraction of the whole journey was already accomplished. He also calculated how much money he had with him, how much would be left over, how much would pay off all his debts, and what proportion of his income he would spend each month. Towards evening, after tea, he calculated that to Stavropong there still remained seven elevenths of the whole journey, that his debts would require seven months' economy and one-eighth of his whole fortune, and then, tranquilised, he wrapped himself up, lay down in the sledge, and again dozed off. His imagination was now turned to the future, to the Caucasus. All his dreams of the future were mingled with pictures of Amalat Beks, Circassian women, mountains, precipices, terrible torrents, and perils. All these things were vague and dim, but the love of fame and the danger of death furnished the interest of that future. Now, with unprecedented courage and a strength that amazed everyone, he slew and subdued an innumerable host of Hillsmen. Now he was himself a Hillsman, and with them was maintaining their independence from the Russians. As soon as he pictured anything definite, familiar Moscow figures always appeared on the scene. Sashka B. fights with the Russians, or the Hillsmen against him. Even the tailor, Capel, in some strange way takes part in the conqueror's triumph. Amid all this he remembered his former humiliations, weaknesses, and mistakes, and the recollection was not disagreeable. It was clear that there among the mountains, waterfalls, fair Circassians, such mistakes could not recur. Having once made full confession to himself, there was an end of it all. One other vision, the sweetest of them all, mingled with the young man's every thought of the future. The vision of a woman. And there, among the mountains, she appeared to his imagination as a Circassian slave, a fine figure with a long plat of hair and deep submissive eyes. He pictured a lonely hut in the mountains, and on the threshold she stands waiting him, when, tired and covered with dust, blood, and fame, he returns to her. He is conscious of her kisses, her shoulders, her sweet voice, and her submissiveness. She is enchanting, but uneducated, wild, and rough. In the long winter evenings he begins her education. She is clever and gifted, and quickly acquires all the knowledge essential. Why not? She can quite easily learn foreign languages, read the French masterpieces, and understand them. Notre Dame de Paris, for instance, is sure to please her. She can also speak French. In a drawing room she can show more innate dignity than a lady of the highest society. She can sing simply, powerfully, and passionately. Oh, what nonsense, he said to himself. But here they reached a post station, and he had to change into another sledge, and give some tips. But his fancy again began searching for the nonsense he had relinquished, and again fair Circassians, glory, and his return to Russia with an appointment as Ed Decaux, and a lovely wife rose before his imagination. But there's no such thing as love, said he to himself. Fame is all rubbish, but the six hundred and seventy-eight roubles, and the conquered land that will bring me more wealth than I need for a lifetime. It will not be right, though, for myself. I shall have to distribute it, but to whom? Well, six hundred and seventy-eight roubles to copel, and then we'll see. Quite vague visions now cloud his mind, and only Vanucia's voice and the interrupted motion of the sledge break his healthy youthful slumber. Scarcely conscious he changes into another sledge at the next stage, and continues his journey. Next morning everything goes on just the same, the same kind of post stations and tea-drinking, the same moving horse's croppers, the same short talks with Vanucia, the same vague dreams and drowsiness, and the same tired, healthy youthful sleep at night. End of Chapter 2 Chapter 3 of The Cossacks This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. The Cossacks by Leo Tolstoy translated by Louise and Elmer Maud. The father Olin in travelled from central Russia, the father he left his memories behind, and the nearer he drew to the Caucasus the lighter his heart became. I'll stay away for good and never return to show myself in society, was a thought that sometimes occurred to him. These people whom I see here are not people, none of them know me, and none of them can ever enter the Moscow society I was in, or find out about my past, and no one in that society will ever know what I am doing living among these people. And quite a new feeling of freedom from his whole past came over him, among the rough beings he met on the road whom he did not consider to be people in the sense that his Moscow acquaintances were. The rougher the people and the fewer the signs of civilization the freer he felt. Stavropol, through which he had to pass, irked him. The signboards, some of them even in French, ladies in carriages, cabs in the marketplace, and a gentleman wearing a fur cloak and tall hat, who was walking along the boulevard and staring at the passersby quite upset him. Perhaps these people know some of my acquaintances he thought, and the club, his tailor, cards, society, came back to his mind. But after Stavropol everything was satisfactory, wild and also beautiful and warlike, and Olinin felt happier and happier. All the Cossacks, post boys, and post station masters seemed to him simple folk with whom he could jest and converse simply without having to consider to what class they belonged. They all belonged to the human race which, without his thinking about it, all appeared dear to Olinin and they all treated him in a friendly way. Already in the province of the Don Cossacks his sledge had been exchanged for a cart and beyond Stavropol it became so warm that Olinin travelled without wearing his fur coat. It was already spring an unexpected joyous spring for Olinin. At night he was no longer allowed to leave the Cossack villages and they said it was dangerous to travel in the evening. Vanuscia began to be uneasy and they carried a loaded gun in the cart. Olinin became still happier. At one of the post stations the postmaster told of a terrible murder that had been committed recently on the high road. They began to meet armed men. So this is where it begins, thought Olinin, and kept expecting to see the snowy mountains of which mention was so often made. Once, towards evening, the no-guy driver, pointed with his whip to the mountains shrouded in clouds. Olinin looked eagerly but it was dull and the mountains were almost hidden by the clouds. Olinin made out something grey and white and fleecy. But try as he would, he could find beautiful in the mountains of which he had so often read and heard. The mountains and the clouds appeared to him quite alike and he thought of the special beauty of the snow peaks of which he had so often been told was as much an invention as Bach's music and the love of women in which he did not believe. So he gave up looking forward to seeing the mountains. But early next morning, being awakened in his cart by the freshness of the air he glanced carelessly to the right. The morning was perfectly clear. Suddenly he saw about twenty paces away as it seemed to him at first glance pure white gigantic masses with delicate contours the distinct fantastic outlines of their summits showing sharply against the far off sky. When he had realised the distance between himself and them and the sky and the whole immensity of the mountains and felt the infinitude of all that beauty he was afraid that it was but a phantasm or a dream. He gave himself a shake to Rouse himself but the mountains were still the same. What's that? What is it? he said to the driver. Why, the mountains answered no-nogai driver with indifference. And I too have been looking at them for a long while said Venusia. Aren't they fine? They won't believe it at home. The quick progress of the three-horse cart along the smooth road caused the mountains to appear to be running in the horizon while their rosy crests glittered in the light of the rising sun. At first, Olenin was only astonished at the sight, then gladdened by it. But later on, gazing more and more intently at that snow-peaked chain that seemed to rise not from among other black mountains but straight out of the plain and to glide away into the distance he began by slow degrees to be penetrated by their beauty and at length to feel the mountains. He saw all he thought and all he felt acquired for him a new character sternly majestic like the mountains. All his Moscow reminiscences, shame and repentance and his trivial dreams about the Caucasus vanished and did not return. Now it has begun, a solemn voice seemed to say to him. The road and the Terek just becoming visible in the distance and the Cossack villages and the people appeared to him as a joke. He looked at himself for Vanusia and again thought of the mountains. Two Cossacks ride by their guns in their cases swinging rhythmically behind their backs the white and bay legs of their horses mingling confusedly and the mountains. Beyond the Terek rises the smoke from a Tata village and the mountains, the sun has risen and glitters on the Terek now visible beyond the reeds of Tata wagon and women and beautiful young women passed by and the mountains abricks canter about the plain and here am I driving along and do not fear them. I have a gun and strength and youth and the mountains. End of Chapter 3 Chapter 4 of the Cossacks This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. The Cossacks by Leo Tolstoy translated by Louise and Elmer Maud Chapter 4 That whole part of the Terek line about fifty miles along which lie the villages of the Grebenzk Cossacks is uniform in character both as to country and inhabitants. The Terek which separates the Cossacks from the mountaineers still flows turbid and rapid though already broad and smooth always depositing grayish sand on its low reedy right bank and washing away the steep though not high left bank with its roots of century old oaks its rotting plain trees and young brushwood. On the right bank lie the villages of pro-Russian though still somewhat restless Tatas. Along the left bank back half a mile from the river and standing five or six miles apart from one another are Cossack villages. In olden times most of these villages were situated on the banks of the river but the Terek shifting northward from the mountains year by year washed away those banks and now there remain only the ruins of the old villages and of the gardens of pear and plum trees and poplars all overgrown with blackberry bushes and wild vines. No one lives there now and one only sees the tracks of the deer the wolves, the hares and the pheasants who have learned to love these places. From village to village runs a road cut through the forest as a cannon shot might fly. Along the roads are cordons of Cossacks and watchtowers with sentinels in them. Only a narrow strip about seven hundred yards wide of fertile wooded soil belongs to the Cossacks. To the north of it begin the sand drifts of the Nogai or Mozdog steps which fetch far to the north and run, heaven knows where into the Trukmen, Astrakhan and Kyrgyz-Kazat steps. To the south beyond the Terek are the great Chechnya river the Koshkolov range the Black Mountains yet another range and at last the Snowy Mountains which can just be seen but have never yet been scaled. In this fertile wooded strip rich in vegetation has dwelt as far back as memory runs the fine, warlike and prosperous Russian tribe belonging to the sect of old believers and called the Grebensk Cossacks. Long, long ago their old believer ancestors fled from Russia and settled beyond the Terek among the Chechens on the Grebens the first range of wooded mountains of Chechnya living among the Chechens the Cossacks intermarried with them and adopted the manners and customs of the hill tribes though they still retained the Russian language in all its purity as well as their old faith a tradition still fresh among them declares that Tsar Ivan the Terrible came to the Terek, sent for their elders and gave them the land on this side of the river remained friendly to Russia and promising not to enforce his rule upon them nor obliged them to change their faith even now the Cossack families claim relationship with the Chechens and the love of freedom of leisure, of plunder and of war still form their chief characteristics only the harmful side of Russian influence shows itself by interference at elections by confiscation of church bells and by the troops who are courted in the country a Cossack is inclined to hate less the Jiget Hillsman who maybe has killed his brother than the soldier courted on him to defend his village but who has defiled his hut with tobacco smoke he respects his enemy the Hillsman and despises the soldier who is in his eyes an alien and an oppressor in reality from a Cossack's point of view a Russian peasant is a foreign savage despicable creature of whom he sees a sample in the hawkers who come to the country and in the Ukrainian immigrants whom the Cossack contemptuously calls wall-beaters for him to be smartly dressed means to be dressed like a Circassian the best weapons are obtained from the Hillsman and the best horses are bought or stolen from them a dashing young Cossack likes to show off his knowledge of Tata and when carousing talks Tata even to his fellow Cossack in spite of all these things the Russian clan stranded in a tiny corner of the earth surrounded by half savage Muhammadan tribes and by soldiers considers itself highly advanced acknowledges none but Cossack's as human beings and despises everybody else the Cossack spends most of his time in the cordon in action or in hunting and fishing he hardly ever works at home when he stays in the village it is an exception to the general rule all Cossacks make their own wine and drunkenness is not so much a general tendency as a right the non-fulfillment of which would be considered apostasy the Cossack looks upon a woman as an instrument for his welfare only the unmarried girls are allowed to amuse themselves a married woman has to work for her husband from youth to very old age his demands on her are the oriental ones of submission and labour in consequence of this outlook women are strongly developed both physically and mentally and though they are as everywhere in the east nominally in subjection they possess far greater influence and importance in family life than western women their exclusion from public life and enurement to heavy male labour give the women all the more power and importance in the household a Cossack who before strangers considers it improper to speak affectionately or needlessly to his wife and her superiority his house and all his property in fact the entire homestead has been acquired and is kept together solely by her labour and care though firmly convinced that labour is degrading to a Cossack and is only proper for a nog-eye labourer or a woman he is vaguely aware of the fact that all he makes use of and calls his own is the result of that toil and that it is in the power of the woman his mother or his wife whom he considers his slave to deprive him of all he possesses besides the continuous performance of man's heavy work and the responsibilities entrusted to her have endowed the Grebenz women with a peculiarly independent masculine character and have remarkably developed their physical powers, common sense resolution and stability the women are in most cases stronger, more intelligent more developed and handsomer than the men Cossack women's beauty is the combination of the purest Cercassian type of face with the broad and powerful build of northern women Cossack women wear the Cercassian dress a tartos mock, beshmet and soft slippers but they tie their kerchiefs around their heads in the Russian fashion smartness, cleanliness and elegance in dress and in the arrangement of their huts are with them a custom and a necessity in their relations with men and especially the unmarried girls enjoy perfect freedom Novomlinsk village was considered the very heart of Grebenzk Cossack in it more than elsewhere the customs of the old Grebenz population have been preserved and its women have from time immemorial been renowned all over the Caucasus for their beauty the Cossack's livelihood is derived from vineyards, fruit gardens watermelon and pumpkin plantations from fishing, hunting maize and millet growing and from war plunder Novomlinsk village lies about 2.5 miles away from the Terek from which it is separated by a dense forest on one side of the road which runs through the village is the river on the other green vineyards and orchards beyond which are seen the drift sands of the Nagai steppe the village is surrounded by earth banks and prickly bramble hedges and is entered by tall gates hung between posts covered with little reed-thatched roofs beside them on a wooden gun carriage stands an unwieldy cannon captured by the Cossacks at some time or other and which has not been fired for a hundred years a uniformed Cossack sentinel with dagger and gun sometimes stands and sometimes does not stand on guard beside the gates and sometimes presents arms to a passing officer and sometimes does not below the roof of the gateway is written in black letters on a white board houses 266 male inhabitants 897 female 1012 the Cossacks houses are all raised on pillars two and a half feet from the ground they are carefully thatched with reeds and have large carved gables if not new they are at least all straight and clean with high porches of different shapes and they are not built close together but have ample space around them and are all picturesquely placed along the old streets and lanes in front of the large bright windows of many of the houses beyond the kitchen gardens dark green poplars and acacia with their delicate pale verger and scented white blossoms over top the houses and beside them grow flaunting yellow sunflowers creepers and grapevines in the broad open square are three shops where drapery sunflower and pumpkin seeds locust beans and gingerbreads are sold and surrounded by a tall fence loftier and larger than the other houses stands the regimental commander's dwelling with its casement windows behind a row of tall poplars few people are to be seen in the streets of the village on weekdays especially in summer the young men are on duty in the cordons or on military expeditions the old ones are fishing or helping the women in the orchards and gardens only the very old, the sick and the children remain at home End of Chapter 4 Chapter 5 of the Cossacks this Librivox recording is in the public domain The Cossacks by Leo Tolstoy translated by Louise and Elmer Maud Chapter 5 it was one of those wonderful evenings that occur only in the Caucasus the sun had sunk behind the mountains but it was still light the evening glow had spread over a third of the sky and against its brilliancy the dull white immensity of the mountains was sharply defined the air was rarefied motionless and full of sound the shadow of the mountains reached for several miles over the stepp the stepp, the opposite side of the river and the roads were all deserted if very occasionally mounted men appeared the Cossacks in the cordon and the Chechens in their owls watched them with surprised curiosity and tried to guess who those questionable men could be at nightfall people from fear of one another flock to their dwellings and only birds and beasts fearless of man prowl in those deserted spaces talking merrily the women who have been tying up the vines hurry away from the gardens before sunset the vineyards like all the surrounding district are deserted but the villagers become very animated at that time of the evening on both sides walking, riding or driving in their creaking carts people move towards the village girls with their smocks tucked up and twigs in their hands run chatting merrily to the village gates to meet the cattle that are crowding together in a cloud of dust and mosquitoes which they bring with them from the stepp the well-fed cows and buffaloes disperse at a run all over the streets and Cossack women in coloured beshmits you can hear their merry laughter and shrieks mingling with the lowing of the cattle there an armed and mounted Cossack on leave from the cordon rides up to a hut and leaning towards the window knocks in answer to the knock the handsome head of a young woman appears at the window and you can hear caressing laughing voices there a tattered no-guy labourer with prominent cheekbones brings a load of reeds from the stepp turns his creaking cart into the Cossack captain's broad and clean courtyard and lifts the yoke off the oxen that stand tossing their heads while he and his master shout to one another in tartar past a puddle that reaches nearly across the street a barefooted Cossack woman with a bundle of firewood on her back makes her laborious way by clinging to the fences holding her smock high and exposing her white legs a Cossack returning from shooting calls out in jest lift it higher shameless thing and points his gun at her the woman lets down her smock and drops the wood an old Cossack returning home from fishing with his trousers tucked up and his hairy grey chest uncovered has a net across his shoulder containing silvery fish that are still struggling and to take a shortcut climbs over his neighbour's broken fence and gives a tug to his coat which is caught on the fence the woman is dragging a dry branch along and from round the corner comes the sound of an axe Cossack children spinning their tops wherever there is a smooth place in the street are shrieking women are climbing over fences to avoid going round from every chimney rises the odorous kizjak smoke from every homestead comes the sound of increased bustle precursor to the stillness of night Granny Ulitka the wife of the Cossack Cornet who is also teacher in the regimental school goes out to the gates of her yard like the other women and waits for the cattle which her daughter Marianca is driving along the street before she has had time fully to open the wattle gate in the fence an enormous buffalo cow surrounded by mosquitoes rushes up bellowing and squeezes in several well fed cows slowly follow her their large eyes gazing with recognition at their mistress as they swish their sides with their tails the beautiful and shapely Marianca enters at the gate and throwing away her switch quickly slams the gate too and rushes with all the speed of her nimble feet to separate and drive the cattle into their sheds take off your slippers you devil's wench shouts her mother you've worn them into holes Marianca is not at all offended at being called a devil's wench but accepting it as a term of endearment cheerfully goes on with her task her face is covered with a kerchief tied round her head she is wearing a pink smock and a green beshmit she disappears inside the lean-to shed in the yard following the big fat cattle and from the shed comes her voice as she speaks gently and persuasively to the buffalo won't she stand still? what a creature come now come oh dear soon the girl and the old woman pass from the shed to the dairy carrying two large pots of milk the days yield the dairy chimney rises a thin cloud of kissyac smoke the milk is being used to make interclotted cream the girl makes up the fire while her mother goes to the gate twilight has fallen on the village the air is full of the smell of vegetables cattle and scented kissyac smoke from the gates and along the streets cossack women come running carrying lighted rags from the yards one hears the snorting and quiet chewing of the cattle while in the street only the voices of women and children sound as they call to one another it is rare on a weekday to hear the drunken voice of a man one of the cossack wives a tall, masculine old woman approaches granny ulitka from the homestead opposite and asks her for a light in her hand she holds a rag have you cleared up granny? the girl is lighting the fire is it fire you want? says granny ulitka proud of being able to oblige her neighbour both women enter the hut and coarse hands unused to dealing with small articles tremblingly lift the lid of a matchbox which is a rarity in the Caucasus the masculine looking newcomer sits down on the doorstep with the evident intention of having a chat and is your man at the school mother? she asked he's always teaching the youngsters mother but he writes that he'll come home for the holidays yes he's a clever man one sees it all comes useful of course it does and my Lukashka is at the cordon they won't let him come home said the visitor though the Cornets wife had known all this long ago she wanted to talk about her Lukashka whom she had lately fitted out for service in the Cossack regiment and whom she wished to marry to the Cornets daughter Mary Anker so is it the cordon? he is mother he sent him some shirts by Formushkin he says he's all right and that his superiors are satisfied he says they are looking out for abrex again Lukashka is quite happy he says ah well thank god said the Cornets wife Snatcher is certainly the only word for him Lukashka was surname the Snatcher because of his bravery in snatching a boy from a watery grave and the Cornets wife alluded to this wishing in her turn to say something agreeable to Lukashka's mother I thank god mother that he's a good son he's a fine fellow everyone praises him says Lukashka's mother all I wish is to get him married then I could die in peace well are there plenty of young women in the village answered the Cornets wife slyly as she carefully replaced the lid of the matchbox with her horny hands plenty mother plenty remarked Lukashka's mother shaking her head there's your girl now your Mary Anker that's the sort of girl you'd have to search through the whole place mother the Cornets wife knows what Lukashka's mother is after but though she believes him to be a good Cossack she hangs back first because she is a Cornets wife and rich while Lukashka is the son of a simple Cossack and fatherless secondly because she does not want to part with her daughter yet but chiefly because propriety demands it well when Mary Anker grows up she'll be marriageable too she answers soberly and modestly I'll send the matchmakers to you I'll send them only let me get the vineyard done and then we'll come and make our bows to you says Lukashka's mother and we'll make our bows to Elias Facilich too Elias indeed says the Cornets wife proudly it's to me you must speak all in its own good time Lukashka's mother sees by the stern face of the Cornets wife that it is not the time to say anything more just now so she lights her rag with the match and says if you refuse us think of my words I'll go it is time to light the fire as she crosses the road swinging the burning rag she meets Mary Anker who bows ah she's a regular queen a splendid worker that girl she thinks looking at the beautiful maiden what need for her to grow any more it's time she was married into a good home married to Lukashka but Granny Ulika had her own cares and she remained sitting on the threshold thinking hard about something till the girl called her end of chapter 5 chapter 6 of the Cossacks this LibriVox recording is in the public domain the Cossacks by Leo Tolstoy translated by Louise and Elmer Maud chapter 6 the male population of the village spend their time on military expeditions and in the cordon or at their posts as the Cossacks say towards evening that same Lukashka the Snatcher about whom the old women had been talking was standing on a watchtower of the Nizhny Prototsk Post situated on the very banks of the Terek leaning on the railing of the tower and screwing up his eyes he looked now into the distance beyond the Terek now down at his fellow Cossacks and occasionally he addressed the latter the sun was already approaching the snowy range that gleamed white above the fleecy clouds the clouds undulating at the base of the mountains grew darker and darker the clearness of evening was noticeable in the air a sense of freshness came from the woods though around the post it was still hot the voices of the talking Cossacks vibrated more sonorously than before the moving mass of the Terek's rapid brown waters contrasted more vividly with its motionless banks the waters were beginning to subside and here and there the wet sands gleamed drab on the banks and in the shallows the other side of the river just opposite the corner was deserted only an immense waste of low growing reeds stretched far away to the very foot of the mountains on the low bank a little to one side could be seen the flat roofed clay houses and the funnel shaped chimneys of a Chechen village the sharp eyes of the Cossack who stood on the watchtower followed through the evening smoke of the pro-Russian village the tiny moving figures of the Chechen women visible in the distance in their red and blue garments although the Cossacks expected abrecks to cross over and attack them from the Tatar side at any moment especially as it was May when the woods by the Terek are so dense that it is difficult to pass through them on foot and the river is shallow enough in places for a horseman to fought it and despite the fact that a couple of days before a Cossack had arrived with a circular from the commander of the regiment announcing that spies had reported the intention of a party of some eight men to cross the Terek and ordering special vigilance no special vigilance was being observed in the Corden the Cossacks unarmed and with their horses unsaddled just as if they were at home spent their time some in fishing some in drinking and some in hunting only the horse of the man on duty was saddled and with its feet hobbled near the wood and only the sentinel had his Circassian coat on and carried a gun and sword the corporal, a tall thin Cossack with an exceptionally long back and small hands and feet was sitting on the earth bank of a hut with his beshmite unbuttoned on his face was the lazy bored expression of a superior and having shut his eyes he dropped his head upon the palm first of one hand and then of the other an elderly Cossack the grayish black beard was lying in his shirt girdled with a black strap close to the river and gazing lazily at the waves of the Terek as they monotonously foamed and swirled others also overcome by the heat and half naked were rinsing clothes in the Terek, platting a fishing line or humming tunes as they lay on the hot sand of the river bank one Cossack with a thin face much burnt by the sun lay near the hut evidently dead drunk by a wall which though it had been in shadows on two hours previously was now exposed to the sun's fierce slanting rays Lukashka, who stood on the watchtower was a tall, handsome lad about 20 years old and very like his mother his face and whole build in spite of the angularity of youth indicated great strength both physical and moral though he had only lately joined the Cossacks at the front it was evident from the expression of his face and the calm assurance of his attitude that he had already acquired the somewhat proud and warlike bearing peculiar to Cossacks and to men generally who continually carry arms and that he felt he was a Cossack and fully knew his own value his ample Circassian coat was torn in some places his cap was on the back of his head Chechen fashion and his leggings had slipped below his knees his clothing was not rich but he wore it with that peculiar Cossack foppishness which consists in imitating the Chechen brave everything on a real brave is ample ragged and neglected only his weapons are costly but these ragged clothes and these weapons are belted and worn with a certain air and matched in a certain manner neither of which can be acquired by everybody and which at once strike the eye of a Cossack or a Hillsman Lukashka had this resemblance to a brave with his hands folded under his sword his eyes nearly closed he kept looking at the distant Tato village taken separately his features were not beautiful but anyone who saw his stately carriage and his dark browed intelligent face would involuntary say what a fine fellow look at the women what a lot of them are walking about in the village said he in a sharp poise languidly showing his brilliant white teeth and not addressing anyone in particular Nazarko who was lying below immediately lifted his head and remarked they must be going for water supposing one scared them with a gun said Lukashka laughing wouldn't they be frightened it wouldn't reach what? mine would carry beyond just wait a bit and when their feasts come round I'll go and visit Girikhan and Drick Boozer there said Lukashka angrily swishing away the mosquitoes which attached themselves to him a rustling in the thicket drew the Cossack's attention a pied mongrel half setter looking for a scent and violently wagging its scantily furred tail came running to the cordon Lukashka recognised the dog as one belonging to his neighbour Uncle Iroshka a hunter and saw following it through the thicket the approaching figure of the hunter himself Uncle Iroshka was a gigantic Cossack with a broad snow white beard and such broad shoulders and chest that in the wood where there was no one to compare him with he did not look particularly tall so well proportioned were his powerful limbs he wore a tattered coat and over the bands with which his legs were swathed sandals made of undressed deer's hide tied on with strings while on his head he had a rough little white cap he carried over one shoulder a screen to hide behind and shooting pheasants and a bag containing a hen for luring hawks and a small forkon over the other shoulder attached by a strap was a wild cat he had killed and stuck in his belt behind were some little bags containing bullets gunpowder and bread a horses tail to squish away the mosquitoes a large dagger in a torn scabbard smeared with old blood stains and two dead pheasants having glanced at the cordon he stopped hi Liam he called to the dog in such a ringing base that it awoke an echo far away in the wood and throwing over his shoulder his big gun of the kind the Cossacks call a flint he raised his cap at a good day good people eh he said addressing the Cossacks in the same strong and cheerful voice quite without effort but as loudly as if he was shouting to someone in the other bank of the river yes yes uncle answered from all sides the voices of the young Cossacks what have you seen tell us shouted uncle Iroshka wiping the sweat from his broad red face with the sleeve of his coat ah there's a vulture living in the plane tree here uncle as soon as night comes he begins hoffering around said Nazarka winking and jerking his shoulder and leg come come said the old man incredulously really uncle you must keep watch replied Nazarka with a laugh the other Cossacks began laughing the wag had not seen any vulture at all but it had long been the custom of the young Cossacks in the cordon to tease and mislead uncle Iroshka every time he came to them eh you fool always lying exclaimed Lukashka from the tower to Nazarka Nazarka was immediately silenced it must be watched I'll watch answered the old man to the great delight of all the Cossacks but have you seen any boars watching for boars are you said the corporal bending forward and scratching his back with both hands very pleased at the chance of some distraction it's abrex one has to hunt here and not boars you've not heard anything uncle have you he added needlessly screwing up his eyes and showing his close set white teeth abrex said the old man no I haven't I say have you any chick here let me have a drink there's a good man I'm really quite done up when the time comes I'll bring you some fresh meat I really will give me a drink he added well I know you going to watch inquired the corporal as though he had not heard what the other said I did mean to watch tonight replied uncle Iroshka maybe with God's help I shall kill something for the holiday then you shall have a share you shall indeed uncle hello uncle called out Lukashka sharply from above attracting everybody's attention all the Cossacks looked up at him just go to the upper water course there's a fine herd of boars there I'm not inventing really the other day one of our Cossacks shot one there I'm telling you the truth added he readjusting the musket at his back and in a tone that showed he was not joking ah Lukashka the snatcher is here the old man looking up where has he been shooting haven't you seen I suppose you're too young said Lukashka close by the ditch he went on seriously with the shake of the head we were just going along the ditch when all at once we heard something crackling but my gun was in its case Elias fired suddenly but I'll show you the place it's not far you just wait a bit I know every one of their footpaths Daddy Mosef said he turning resolutely and almost commandingly to the corporal it's time to relieve guard and holding him off his gun he began to descend from the watchtower without waiting for the order come down said the corporal after Lukashka had started and glanced round is it your turn Gorka then go true enough your Lukashka has become very skillful he went on addressing the old man he keeps going about just like you he doesn't stay at home the other day he killed a boar end of chapter 6 chapter 7 of the Cossacks this Librivox recording is in the public domain the Cossacks by Leo Tolstoy translated by Louise and Elmer Maud chapter 7 the sun had already set and the shades of night were rapidly spreading from the edge of the wood the Cossacks finished their task around the cordon and gathered in the hut for supper only the old man still stayed under the plane tree watching for the vulture and pulling the string tied to the falcon's leg but though a vulture was really perching on the plane tree it declined to swoop down on the lure Lukashka, singing one song after another was leisurely placing nets among the very thickest brambles to trap pheasants in spite of his tall stature and big hands every kind of work both rough and delicate prospered under Lukashka's fingers hello Luke came Nazarka's shrill sharp voice calling him from the thicket close by the Cossacks have gone into supper Nazarka with a live pheasant under his arm forced his way through the brambles and emerged on the footpath oh, said Lukashka, breaking off in his song where did you get that cock pheasant? I suppose it was in my trap Nazarka was of the same age as Lukashka and had also only been at the front since the previous spring he was plain, thin and puny with a shrill voice that rang in one's ears they were neighbours and comrades Lukashka was sitting on the grass cross-legged like a tartar adjusting his nets I don't know whose it was, yours I expect was it beyond the pit by the plane tree? then it is mine I set the nets last night Lukashka rose and examined the captured pheasant after stroking the dark burnished head of the bird which rolled its eyes and stretched out its neck in terror Lukashka took the pheasant in his hands or will have it in a pill outer night you go and kill and pluck it and shall we eat it ourselves or give it to the corporal? he has plenty I don't like killing them, said Nazarka give it here Lukashka drew a little knife from under his dagger and gave it a swift jerk the bird fluttered but before it could spread its wings the bleeding head bent and quivered that's how one should do it, said Lukashka throwing down the pheasant it'll make a fat pillow Nazarka shuddered as he looked at the bird I say Lukashka that fiend will be sending us to the ambush again tonight he said, taking up the bird he was alluding to the corporal he has sent for Muskin to get wine and it ought to be his turn he always puts it on us Lukashka went whistling along the cordon take the string with you, he shouted Nazarka obeyed I'll give him a bit of my mind today I really will, continued Nazarka let's say we won't go we're tired out and there's an end of it no really, you tell him he'll listen to you, it's too bad get along with you, what a thing to make a fuss about, said Lukashka evidently thinking of something else what bosh, if he made us turn out of the village at night now that would be annoying there one can have some fun, but here, what is there? it's all one, whether we're in the cordon or in ambush what a fellow you are when are you going to the village? I'll go for the holidays Gorka says your dunayka is carrying on with Fomushkin, said Nazarka suddenly oh, well let her go to the devil, said Lukashka showing his regular white teeth, though he did not laugh as if I couldn't find another Gorka says he went to her house her husband was out and there was Fomushkin sitting and eating pie Gorka stopped a while and then went away and passing by the window, he heard her say he's gone, the fiend, why don't you reach your pie, my own you needn't go home for the night, she says and Gorka under the window says to himself, that's fine you're making it up no, quite true by heaven well, if she's found another, let her go to the devil, said Lukashka after a pause there's no lack of girls, and I was sick of her anyway well, see what a devil you are, said Nazarka you should make up to the cornets girl, Marianka why doesn't she walk out with anyone? Lukashka frowned what of Marianka, they're all alike, he said well, you just try what do you think, a girl so scarce in the village? and Lukashka recommended whistling and went along the cordon, pulling leaves and branches from the bushes as he went suddenly, catching sight of a smooth sapling he drew the knife from the handle of his dagger and cut it down what a ramrod it will make, he said swinging the sapling until it whistled through the air the Cossacks were sitting round a low tartar table on the earthen floor of the clay plastered out a room of the hut when the question of whose turn it was to lie in ambush was raised who was to go tonight? shouted one of the Cossacks through the open door to the corporal in the next room who is to go? the corporal shouted back Uncle Berlak has been, and from Uskin too said he, not quite confidently you two had better go, you and Nazarka he went on, addressing Lukashka and Oregushov, Musko too, surely he has slept it off you don't sleep it off yourself so why should he, said Nazarka in a subdued voice the Cossacks laughed Oregushov was the Cossack who had been lying drunk and asleep near the hut he had only that moment staggered into the room rubbing his eyes Lukashka had already risen and was getting his gun ready be quick and go, finish your supper and go, said the corporal and without waiting for an expression of consent he shut the door evidently not expecting the Cossack to obey of course, thought he if I hadn't been ordered to, I wouldn't send anyone but an officer might turn up at any moment as it is, they say eight abrecks have crossed over well I suppose I must go, remarked Oregushov it's the regulation, can't be helped, the times are such I say we must go meanwhile Lukashka, holding a big piece of pheasant to his mouth with both hands and glancing now at Nazarka now at Oregushov, seemed quite indifferent to what passed and only laughed at them both before the Cossacks were ready to go into ambush Uncle Iroshka, who had been vainly waiting under the plain tree till night fell entered the dark outer room well done lads, his loud bass resounded through the low-roofed room drowning all the other voices I'm going with you, you'll watch for Chechens and I for boars End of Chapter 7 Chapter 8 of the Cossacks this LibriVox recording is in the public domain the Cossacks by Leo Tolstoy translated by Louise and Elmer Maud Chapter 8 it was quite dark when Uncle Iroshka and the three Cossacks in their cloaks and shouldering their guns left the cordon and went towards the place on the Terek where they were to lie in ambush Nazarka did not want to go at all but Lukashka shouted at him and they soon started after they had gone a few steps in silence the Cossacks turned aside from the ditch and went along a path almost hidden by reeds till they reached the river on its bank lay a thick black log cast up by the water the reeds around it had been recently beaten down shall we lie here? asked Nazarka why not? answered Lukashka sit down here and I'll be back in a minute I'll only show daddy where to go this is the best place here we can see and not be seen said Ogroshov so it's here we'll lie, it's a first-rate place Nazarka and Ogroshov spread out their cloaks and settled down behind the log while Lukashka went on with Uncle Iroshka it's not far from here daddy, said Lukashka stepping softly in front of the old man I'll show you where they've been I'm the only one that knows daddy show me, you're a fine fellow a regular snatcher, replied the old man also whispering having gone a few steps Lukashka stopped stooped down over a puddle and whistled that's where they came to drink do you see he spoke in a scarcely audible voice pointing to fresh hoof prints Christ bless you! answered the old man the boar will be in the hollow beyond the ditch he added till watch and you can go Lukashka pulled his cloak up higher and walked back alone throwing swift glances now to the left at the wall of reeds now to the Terek rushing by below the bank I daresay he's watching or creeping along somewhere thought he of a possible Chechen hilderman suddenly a loud rustling and a splash in the water made him start and seize his musket from under the bank a boar leapt up his dark outline showing for a moment against the glassy surface of the water and then disappearing among the reeds Lukashka pulled out his gun and aimed but before he could fire the boar had disappeared in the thicket Lukashka spat with vexation and went on on approaching the ambush gate he halted again and whistled softly his whistle was answered and he stepped up to his comrades Nazarka all curled up was already asleep Ergyshov sat with his legs crossed and moved slightly to make room for Lukashka how jolly it is to sit here really a good place said he did you take him there? showed him where answered Lukashka spreading out his cloak but what a big boar I roused just now close to the water I expected was the very one who had heard the crash I did hear a beast crashing through I knew at once it was a beast I thought to myself Lukashka has roused a beast Ergyshov said wrapping himself up in his cloak now I'll go to sleep he added wake me when the cocks crow we must have discipline I'll lie down and have a nap and then you will have a nap and I'll watch that's the way luckily I don't want to sleep answered Lukashka the night was dark warm and still only on one side of the sky the stars were shining the other and greater part was overcast by one huge cloud stretching from the mountain tops the black cloud blending in the absence of any wind with the mountains moved slowly onwards its curved edges sharply dend against the deep starry sky only in front of him could the Cossack discern the Terek and the distance beyond behind and on both sides he was surrounded by a wall of reeds occasionally the reeds would sway and rustle against one another apparently without cause seen from down below against the clear part of the sky their waving tufts looked like the feathery branches of trees close in front at his very feet was the bank and at its base the Russian torrent a little farther on was the moving mass of glassy brown water which edged rhythmically along the bank and round the shallows farther still water banks and cloud together in impenetrable gloom along the surface of the water floated black shadows in which the experienced eyes of the Cossack detected trees carried down by the current only very rarely sheet lightning mirrored in the water as in a black glass disclosed the sloping bank opposite the rhythmic sounds of night the rustling of the reeds the snoring of the Cossacks the hum of mosquitoes and the rushing water every now and then broken by a shot fired in the distance or by the gurgling of water when a piece of bank slipped down a splash of a big fish or the crashing of an animal breaking through the thick undergrowth in the wood once an owl flew past along the taric flapping one wing against the other rhythmically at every second beat just above the Cossack's head it turned towards the wood and then striking its wings no longer after every other flap but at every flap it flew to an old plain tree where it rustled about for a long time before settling down among the branches at every one of these unexpected sounds the watching Cossack listened intently straining his hearing and screwing up his eyes while he deliberately felt for his musket the greater part of the night was past the black cloud that had moved westward revealed the clear starry sky from under its torn edge and the golden upturned crescent of the moon shone above the mountains with a reddish light the cold began to be penetrating Nazarka woke, spoke a little, and fell asleep again Lukashka, feeling bored, got up drew the knife from his dagger handle and began to fashion his stick into a ramrod his head was full of the Chechens who lived over there in the mountains and of how their brave lads came across and were not afraid of the Cossacks and might even now be crossing the river at some other spot he thrust himself out of his hiding place looking along the river but could see nothing and as he continued, looking out at intervals upon the river and at the opposite bank now dimly distinguishable from the water in the faint moonlight he no longer thought about the Chechens but only of when it would be time to wake his comrades and of going home to the village in the village he imagined Dunayka, his little soul as the Cossacks call a man's mistress and thought of her with vexation silvery mists, a sign of coming morning glittered white above the water and not far from him young eagles were whistling and flapping their wings at last the crowing of a cock reached him from the distant village followed by the long sustained note of another which was again answered by yet other voices time to wake them, thought Lukashka who had finished his ramrod and felt his eyes growing heavy turning to his comrades he managed to make out which pair of legs belonged to whom when it suddenly seemed to him that he heard something splash on the other side of the Terek he turned again towards the horizon beyond the hills where day was breaking under the upturned crescent glanced at the outline of the opposite bank at the Terek and at the now distinctly visible the driftwood upon it for one instant it seemed to him that he was moving and that the Terek with the drifting wood remain stationary again he peered out one large black log with a branch particularly attracted his attention the tree was floating in a strange way right down the middle of the stream neither rocking nor whirling it even appeared not to be floating altogether with the current but to be crossing it in the direction of the shallows Lukashka stretching out his neck watched it intently the tree floated to the shallows stopped and shifted in a peculiar manner Lukashka thought he saw an arm stretched out from beneath the tree supposing I killed an abrac all by myself he thought and seized his gun with a swift unhurried movement putting up his gun rest placing the gun upon it and holding it noiselessly in position cocking the trigger with baited breath he took aim still peering out intently I won't wake them he thought but his heart began beating so fast that he remained motionless listening suddenly the trunk gave a plunge and again began to float across the stream towards our bank only not to miss thought he and now by the faint light of the moon he caught a glimpse of a Tatar's head in front of the floating wood he aimed straight at the head which appeared to be quite near just at the end of his rifle's barrel he glanced across right enough it is an abrac he thought joyfully and suddenly rising to his knees he again took aim having found the sight barely visible at the end of the long gun he said in the name of the father and of the son in the Cossack way learnt in his childhood and pulled the trigger a flash of lightning lit up for an instant the reeds and the water and the sharp abrupt report of the shot was carried across the river changing into a prolonged roll somewhere in the far distance the piece of driftwood now floated not across but with the current rocking and whirling stop I say exclaimed Ergyshov seizing his musket and raising himself behind the log near which he was lying shut up you devil whispered Lukashka grinding his teeth abrex whom have you shot? asked Nazarka who was it Lukashka? Lukashka did not answer he was reloading his gun and watching the floating wood a little way off it stopped on a sand bank and from behind it something large that rocked in the water came into view what did you shoot? why don't you speak? insisted the Cossacks abrex I tell you said Lukashka don't humbug did the gun go off? I've killed an abreck that's what I fired at muttered Lukashka in a voice choked by emotion as he jumped to his feet a man was swimming he said pointing to the sand bank I killed him just look there have done with your humbugging said Ergyshov again rubbing his eyes have done with what? look there said Lukashka seizing him by the shoulders and pulling him with such force that Ergyshov groaned he looked in the direction in which Lukashka pointed and discerning a body immediately changed his tone oh lord but I say more will come I tell you the truth said he softly and began examining his musket that was a scout swimming across either the others are here already or are not far off on the other side I tell you for sure Lukashka was unfastening his belt and taking off his Circassian coat what are you up to you idiot exclaimed Ergyshov only show yourself and you've lost all for nothing I tell you true if you've killed him you won't escape let me have a little powder for my musket pan you have some Nazarka you go back to the cordon and look alive but don't go along the bank or you'll be killed I'll tell you true catch me going alone go yourself said Nazarka and Greeley having taken off his coat Lukashka went down to the bank don't go in I tell you said Ergyshov putting some powder on the pan look he's not moving I can see it's an early morning wait till they come from the cordon you go Nazarka you're afraid don't be afraid I tell you Luke I say Lukashka tell us how you did it said Nazarka Lukashka changed his mind about going into the water just then go quick to the cordon and I will watch tell the Cossacks to send out the patrol if the abrex are on this side they must be caught said he that's what I say they'll get off said Ergyshov rising true they must be caught Bogoshov and Nazarka rose and crossing themselves started off for the cordon not along the riverbank but breaking their way through the brambles to reach a path in the wood now mind Lukashka they may cut you down here so you'd best keep a sharp look out I tell you go along I know muttered Lukashka and having examined his gun again he sat down behind the log he remained alone and sat gazing at the shallows and listening for the Cossacks but it was some distance to the cordon he was tormented by impatience he kept thinking that the other abrex who were with the one he had killed would escape he was vexed with the abrex who were going to escape just as he had been with the bore that had escaped the evening before he glanced round and at the opposite bank expecting every moment to see a man and having arranged his gun rest he was ready to fire the idea that he might himself be killed never entered his head chapter 8 chapter 9 of the Cossacks this Librivox recording is in the public domain the Cossacks by Leo Tolstoy translated by Louise and Alema Mord chapter 9 it was growing light the Chechen's body which was gently rocking in the shallow water was now clearly visible suddenly the reeds rustled not far from Luk and he heard steps and saw the feathery tops of the reeds moving he set his gun at full cock and muttered in the name of the father and of the son but when the cock clipped the sound of steps ceased hello Cossacks don't kill your daddy said a deep bass voice calmly and moving the reeds apart Daddy Orozhka came up close to Luke I very nearly killed you by God I did said Lukashka what have you shot? asked the old man his sonorous voice resounded through the wood and downward along the river suddenly dispelling the mysterious quiet of night around the Cossack it was as if everything had suddenly become lighter and more distinct there now uncle you have not seen anything but I've killed a beast said Lukashka uncocking his gun and getting up with unnatural calmness the old man was staring intently at the white back now clearly visible against which the Terek rippled he was swimming with a log on his back I spied him out look there, there! he's got blue trousers and a gun I think do you see? inquired Luke how can one help seeing? said the old man angrily and a serious and stern expression appeared on his face you've killed a brave! he said apparently with regret well I sat here and suddenly saw something dark on the other side I spied him when he was still over there it was as if a man had come there and fallen in and a piece of driftwood, a good-sized piece, comes floating not with the stream but across it and what do I see but a head appearing from under it strange I stretched out of the reeds but could see nothing then I rose and he must have heard the beast and crept out into the shallow and looked about no you don't I said as soon as he landed and looked round you won't get away oh there was something choking me I got my gun ready but did not stir and looked out he waited a little and then swam out again and when he came into the moonlight I could see his whole back in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Ghost and through the smoke I see him struggling he moaned or so it seemed to me I thought the Lord be thanked I've killed him and when he drifted onto the sandbank I could see him distinctly he tried to get up but couldn't he struggled a bit and then lay down everything could be seen look he does not move he must be dead the Cossacks have gone back to the cordon in case there should be more of them and so you got him said the old man he is far away now my lad and again he shook his head sadly just then the sound reached them but breaking bushes and the loud voices of Cossacks approaching along the bank on horseback and on foot are you bringing the skiff? shouted Lukashka you're a Trump Luke luggage to the bank shouted one of the Cossacks waiting for the skiff Lukashka began to undress keeping an eye all the while on his prey wait a bit Nazarka is bringing the skiff shouted the corporal you fool maybe he is alive and only pretending take your dagger with you shouted another Cossack get along cried Luke pulling off his trousers he quickly undressed and crossing himself jumped plunging with a splash into the river then with long strokes of his white arms lifting his back high out of the water and breathing deeply he swam across the current of the Terrac towards the shallows a crowd of Cossacks stood on the bank talking loudly three horsemen rode off to patrol the skiff appeared round a bend Lukashka stood up on the sandbank leaned over the body and gave it a couple of shakes quite good he shouted in a shrill voice the Chechen had been shot in the head he had on a pair of blue trousers a shirt and a Circassian's coat and a gun and dagger were tied to his back above all these a large branch was tied and it was this which had first had mislead Lukashka what a carp you've landed cried one of the Cossacks who had assembled in a circle as the body lifted out of the skiff was laid on the bank pressing down the grass how yellow he is said another where have our fellows gone to search I expect the rest of them are on the other bank if this one had not been a scout that way why else should he swim alone said the third must have been a smart one to offer himself before the others a regular brave said Lukashka mocking me shivering as he wrung out his clothes that had got wet on the bank his beard has died and cropped and he has tied a bag with a coat in it to his back that will make it easier for him to swim said someone I say Lukashka said the corporal who was holding the dagger and gun taken from the dead man to see yourself and the coat too but I'll give you three rubles for the gun you see it has a hole in it said he blowing into the muzzle I want it just for a souvenir Lukashka did not answer evidently this sort of begging vexed him but he knew it could not be avoided see what a devil said he frowning and throwing down the Chechen's coat if at least it were a good coat but it's a mere rag it'll do to fetch firewood in said one of the Cossacks Mosev I'll go home said Lukashka evidently forgetting his vexation and wishing to get some advantage out of having to give a present to his superior alright you may go take the body beyond the cordon lads said the corporal still examining the gun and put a shelter over him from the sun perhaps they'll send from the mountains to ransom it it isn't hot yet said someone and supposing a jackal tears him would that be well? remarked another Cossack we'll set a watch if they should come to ransom him it won't do for him to have been torn well Lukashka whatever you do you must stand a pale of vodka for the lads said the corporal gaining of course that's the custom chimed in the Cossacks see what luck God has sent you without ever having seen anything of the kind before you've killed a brave buy the dagger and coat and don't be stingy and I'll let you have the trousers too said Lukashka they're too tight for me it was a thin devil one Cossack bought the coat for a ruble and another gave the price of two pales of vodka for the dagger drink lads I'll stand you a pale said Luke I'll bring it myself from the village and cut up the trousers into kechifs for the girls said Nazarka the Cossacks burst out laughing I've done laughing said the corporal and take the body away why have you put the nasty thing by the hut what are you standing there for all him along lads shouted Lukashka in a commanding voice to the Cossacks who reluctantly took hold of the body obeying him as though he were their chief after dragging the body along for a few steps the Cossacks let fall the legs which dropped with a lifeless jerk and stepping apart they then stood silent for a few moments Nazarka came up and straightened the head which was turned to one side so the round wound above the temple and the hole of the dead man's face was visible see what a mark he has made right in the brain he said he won't get lost his owners will always know him no one answered and again the angel of silence flew over the Cossacks the sun had risen high and its diverging beams were lighting up the dewy grass nearby the Terek murmured in the awakened wood and, greeting the morning the pheasants called to one another the Cossacks stood still and silent around the dead man gazing at him the brown body with nothing on but the wet blue trousers held by a girdle over the sunken stomach was well shaped and handsome the muscular arms lay stretched straight out by his sides the blue freshly shaven round head with the clotted wound on one side of it was thrown back the smooth tanned forehead contrasted sharply with the shaven part of the head the open glassy eyes with lowered pupils stared upwards seeming to gaze past everything under the red trimmed moustache the fine lips, drawn at the corners seemed stiffened into a smile of good-natured subtle rivalry the fingers of the small hands covered with red hairs were bent inward and the nails were dyed red Lukashka had not yet dressed he was wet his neck was redder and his eyes brighter than usual his broad jaws twitched and from his healthy body a hardly perceptible strict steam rose in the fresh morning air he too was a man, he muttered evidently admiring the corpse yes, if you had fallen into his hands you would have had short shrift, said one of the Cossacks the angel of silence had taken wing the Cossacks began bustling about and talking two of them went to cut brushwood for a shelter others strolled towards the cordon Luk and Nazarka ran to get ready to go to the village half an hour later they were both on their way homewards talking incessantly and almost running through the dense woods which separated the Terek from the village mine, don't tell her I sent you but just go and find out if her husband is at home Luk was saying in a strong voice and I'll go round to Yamka too, said the devoted Nazarka we'll have a spree, shall we? when should we have one if not today? replied Luk when they reached the village the two Cossacks drank and lay down to sleep till evening end of Chapter 9 Chapter 10 of the Cossacks this Librivox recording is in the public domain the Cossacks by Leo Tolstoy translated by Louise and Elmer Maud Chapter 10 on the third day after the events above described two companies of a Caucasian infantry regiment arrived at the Cossack village of Novomlinsk the horses had been unharnessed and the company's wagons were standing in the square the cooks had dug a pit and with logs gathered from various yards where they had not been sufficiently securely stored were now cooking the food the pay sergeants were settling accounts with the soldiers the service corpsmen were driving piles in the ground to which to tie the horses and the quartermasters were going about the streets just as if they were at home showing officers and men to their quarters here were green ammunition boxes in a line the company's carts, horses and cauldrons in which buckwheat porridge was being cooked here were the captain and the lieutenant and the sergeant major, Onisim Mikhailovich and all this was in the Cossack village where it was reported that the companies were ordered to take up their quarters therefore they were at home here but why there was station there who the Cossacks were and whether they wanted the troops to be there and whether they were old believers or not was all quite immaterial having received their pay and been dismissed tired out and covered with dust the soldiers noisily and in disorder like a swarm of bees about to settle spread over the squares and streets quite regardless of the Cossack's ill will chattering merrily and with their muskets clinking by twos and threes they entered the huts and hung up their accoutrements unpacked their bags and bantered the women at their favourite spot around the porridge cauldrons a large group of soldiers assembled in their teeth they gazed now at the smoke which rose into the hot sky becoming visible when it thickened into white clouds as it rose and now at the campfires which were quivering in the pure air like molten glass and bantered and made fun of the Cossack men and women because they do not live at all like Russians in all the yards one could see soldiers and hear their laughter and the exasperated and shrill cries of Cossack women defending their houses and refusing to give the soldiers water and cooking utensils little boys and girls clinging to their mothers and to each other followed all the movements of the troopers never before seen by them with frightened curiosity or ran after them at a respectful distance the old Cossacks came out silently and dismally and sat on the earthen embankments of their huts and watched the soldiers' activity with an air of leaving it all to the will of God without understanding what would come of it Oleni who had joined the Caucasian army as a cadet three months before was quartered in one of the best houses in the village the House of the Cornet, Elias Facilich that is to say at Gran Eulidkis goodness knows what it would be like Dimitri Andreech said the panting vanusia to Oleni who dressed in a Circassian coat and mounted on a Kabada horse which he had bought in Gorosno was after a five hours march to the yard of the quarters assigned to him Why, what's the matter? he asked caressing his horse and looking merrily at the perspiring dishevelled and worried vanusia who had arrived with the baggage wagons and was unpacking Oleni looked quite a different man in place of his clean shaven lips and chin he had a youthful moustache and a small beard instead of a sallow complexion the result of knights turned in today his cheeks, his forehead and the skin behind his ears were now red with healthy sunburn in place of a clean new black suit he wore a dirty white Circassian coat with a deeply pleated skirt and he bore arms instead of a freshly starched collar his neck was tightly clasped by the red band of his silk beshmet he wore a Circassian dress but did not wear it well and anyone would have known him for a Russian and not a Tatar brave it was the thing but not the real thing for all that this whole person breathed health, joy and satisfaction yes it seems funny to you said vanusia but just try to talk to these people yourself they set themselves against one and there's an end of it you can't get as much as a word out of them but you shall angrily threw down a pale in the threshold somehow they don't seem like Russians you should speak to the chief of the village but I don't know where he lives said vanusia in an offended tone who has upset you so asked Olinin looking round the devil only knows there's no real master here they say he has gone to some kind of Krieger and the old woman is a real devil God preserve us answered vanusia putting his hands to his head how we shall live here I don't know they are worse than Tatas I do declare though they consider themselves Christians a Tatar is bad enough but all the same he is more noble gone to the Krieger indeed what this Krieger they have invented is included vanusia and turned aside it's not as it is in the serf's quarters at home eh chaffed Olinin without dismounting please sir may I have your horse said vanusia evidently flexed by this new order of things but resigning himself to his fate so a Tatar is more noble eh vanusia repeated Olinin dismounting and slapping the saddle yes you're laughing you think it funny not a vanusia angrily come don't be angry vanusia Olinin still smiling wait a minute I'll go and speak to the people of the house you'll see I shall arrange everything you don't know what a jolly life we shall have here don't get upset vanusia did not answer screwing up his eyes he looked contemptuously after his master and shook his head vanusia regarded Olinin as only his master and Olinin regarded vanusia as only his servant and they would both have been much surprised and told them that they were friends as they really were without knowing it themselves vanusia had been taken into his proprietors house when he was only 11 and when Olinin was the same age when Olinin was 15 he gave vanusia lessons for a time and taught him to read French of which the latter was inordinately proud and when in specially good spirits he still let off French words but was laughing stupidly when he did so Olinin ran up the steps of the porch and pushed open the door of the hut marianca wearing nothing but a pink spock as all Cossack women do in the house jumped away from the door frightened and pressing herself against the wall covered the lower part of her face with the broad sleeve of her tata smock having opened the door wider Olinin in the semi-darkness of the passage saw the whole, tall, shapely figure of the young Cossack girl with the quick and eager curiosity of youth he involuntarily noticed the firm maidenly form revealed by the fine print smock and the beautiful black eyes fixed on him with childlike terror and wild curiosity this is SHE thought Olinin but there will be many others like her came at once into his head and he opened the inner door Old Granulidka, also dressed only in a smock was stooping with her back turned to him sweeping the floor Good day to you mother I've come about my lodging, she began the Cossack woman without unbending turned her severe but still handsome face towards him What have you come here for? Want a mock at us, eh? I'll teach you to mock May the black plague seize you, she shouted looking as scants from under her frowning brow the newcomer Olinin had at first imagined that the way-worn, gallant, Caucasian army of which he was a member would be everywhere received joyfully and especially by the Cossacks our comrades in the war and he therefore felt perplexed by this reception without losing presence of mind, however he tried to explain that he meant to pay for his lodgings but the old woman would not give him a hearing What have you come for? Who wants a pest like you with your scraped face? You just wait a bit when the master returns he'll show you your place I don't want your dirty money a likely thing, just as if we had never seen any you'll stink the house out with your beastly tobacco and want to put it right with money I think we've never seen a pest may you be shot in your bowels and your heart shriek the old woman in a piercing voice interrupting Olinin seems Venusia was right thought Olinin Matata would be nobler and followed by Graniolittka's abuse he went out of the hut as he was leaving Marianca still wearing only her pink smock but with her forehead covered down to her eyes by a white kerchief pattering rapidly down the steps with her bare feet she ran from the porch stopped and looking round hastily with laughing eyes at the young man vanished round the corner of the hut her firm youthful step the untamed look of the eyes glistening from under the white kerchief and the firm stately build of the young beauty struck Olinin even more powerfully than before yes it must be she thought and troubling his head still less about the lodgings looking round at Marianca as he approached Venusia there you see the girl too is quite savage just like a wild filly said Venusia who though still busy with the luggage wagon had now cheered up a bit Lafame he added in a loud triumphant voice and burst out laughing End of Chapter 10 Chapter 11 of the Cossacks This Librivox recording is in the public domain The Cossacks by Leo Tolstoy Louise and Elmer Mord Chapter 11 Towards evening the master of the house returned from his fishing and having learnt that the cadet would pay for the lodging pacified the old woman and satisfied Venusia's demands everything was arranged in the new quarters their hosts moved into the winter hut and let their summer hut to the cadet for three roubles a month Olinin had something to eat in winter sleep Towards evening he woke up and made himself tidy dined and having lit a cigarette sat down by the window that looked onto the street it was cooler the slanting shadow of the hut with its ornamental gables fell across the dusty road and even bent upwards at the base of the wall of the house opposite the steep reed-thatched roof of that house shone in the rays of the setting sun the air grew fresher everything was peaceful in the village the soldiers had settled down and had come quiet the herds had not yet been driven home and the people had not returned from their work Olinin's lodging was situated almost at the end of the village at rare intervals from somewhere far beyond the Terrac in those parts whence Olinin had just come the Chechen or the Cummits Plain came muffled sounds of firing Olinin was feeling very well contented after three months of bivouac life his newly washed face was fresh and his powerful body clean an unaccustomed sensation after the campaign and in all his rested limbs he was conscious of a feeling of tranquility and strength his mind too felt fresh and clear he thought of the campaign and of past dangers he remembered that he had faced them no worse than other men and that he was accepted as a comrade among valiant Caucasians his Moscow recollections were left behind the old life was wiped out and a quite new life had begun in which there were as yet no mistakes here as a new man among new men he could gain a new and good reputation he was conscious of a youthful and unreasoning joy of life looking now out of the window at the boys spinning their tops in the shadow of the house now round his neat new lodging he thought how pleasantly he was settled down to this new Cossack village life now and then he glanced at the mountains and the blue sky and an appreciation of the solemn grandeur of nature mingled with his reminiscences and dreams his new life had begun not as he imagined it would when he left Moscow but unexpectedly well the mountains, the mountains, the mountains they permeated all his thoughts and feelings he kissed his dog and licked the jug Daddy Orozhka has kissed his dog suddenly the little Cossacks were spinning their tops under the window looking towards the side street he's drunk his bitch and his dagger shouted the boys crowding together and snapping backwards these shouts were addressed to Daddy Orozhka who with his gun on his shoulder and some pheasants hanging at his girdle was returning from his shooting expedition I have done wrong lads I have, he said vigorously swinging his arms and looking up at the windows on both sides of the street I have drunk the bitch he repeated evidently vexed but pretending not to care Olinin was surprised by the boys' behaviour towards the old hunter but was still more struck by the expressive intelligent face and the powerful build of the man who they called Daddy Orozhka here Daddy, here Cossack he called come here the old man looked into the window and stopped good evening good man, he said lifting his little cap off his cropped head good evening good man, replied Olinin what is it the youngsters are shouting at you? Daddy Orozhka came up to the window why, they're teasing the old man no matter I like it let them joke about their old Daddy, he said with those firm musical intonations with which old and venerable people speak are you an army commander, he added no, I am a cadet but where did you kill those pheasants, asked Olinin I dispatched these three hens in the forest, answered the old man turning his broad back towards the window to show the hen pheasants which were hanging with the head stuffed into his belt and staining his coat with blood haven't you seen any, he asked take a brace if you like here you are and he handed two of the pheasants in at the window are you a sportsman yourself, he asked I am, during the campaign I killed four myself four, what a lot of the old man sarcastically and are you a drinker do you drink Shakir why not, I like a drink ah, I see you are a Trump we shall be Kunaks, you and I said Daddy Orozhka step in said Olinin we'll have a drop of Shakir I might as well, said the old man take the pheasants the old man's face showed that he liked the cadet he had seen at once that he could get free drinks from him and that therefore it would be all right to give him a brace of pheasants soon Daddy Orozhka's figure appeared in the doorway of the hut and it was only then that Olinin became fully conscious of the enormous size and sturdy build of this man whose red-brown face with its perfectly white broad beard was all furrowed by deep lines produced by age and toil for an old man the muscles of his legs arms and shoulders were quite exceptionally large and prominent there were deep scars on his head under the short cropped hair his thick sinewy neck was covered with deep intersecting folds like a bull's his horny hands were bruised and scratched he stepped lightly and easily over the threshold unslung his gun and placed it in a corner and casting a rapid glance around the room noted the value of the goods and chattels deposited in the hut and without turned toes stepped softly in his sandals of raw hide into the middle of the room he brought with him a penetrating but not unpleasant smell of shikia wine vodka, gunpowder and congealed blood Daddy Orozhka bowed down before the icons smoothed his beard and approaching Olenin held out his thick brown hand Koshkildi said he that is Tata for good day peace be unto you it means in their tongue Koshkildi I know answered Olenin shaking hands hey but you don't you won't know the right order fool said Daddy Orozhka shaking his head reproachfully if anyone says Koshkildi to you you must say Alarasi Bosun that is God save you that's the way my dear fellow and not Koshkildi but I'll teach you all about it we had a fellow here, Elias Mosevich one of your Russians he and I were Kunaks he was a Trump, a drunkard, a thief a sportsman and what a sportsman I taught him everything and what will you teach me, asked Olenin he was becoming more and more interested in the old man I'll take you hunting and teach you to fish and find a girl for you if you like even that, that's the sort I am I'm a wag and the old man laughed I'll sit down, I'm tired Kaga, he added inquiringly and what does Kaga mean I'll still let you know why that means alright in Georgian but I say it just so it is a way I have, it's my favourite word Kaga, Kaga I say it just so in fun I mean it's a bit of an orderly haven't you hey Ivan, shout at the old man all your soldiers are Ivans is yours Ivan true enough his name is Ivan, Vanusha here Vanusha, please get some shikir from my landlady and bring it here Ivan or Vanusha that's all one where are all your soldiers Ivans Ivan, old fellow, said the old man you tell them to give you some from the barrel they have begun they have the best shikir in the village but don't give them a shikopex for the court mind because that witch would be only too glad our people are inathema people stupid people Dania Rostro continued in a confidential tone after Vanusha had gone out they do not look upon you as on men you are worse than a Tata in their eyes worldly Russians they say but as for me though you are a soldier you are still a man and have a soul in you isn't that right Elias Mosevich was a soldier yet what a treasure of a man he was isn't that so my dear fellow that's why our people don't like me but I don't care I'm a merry fellow and I like everybody I'm a Roshka, yes my dear fellow and the old Cossack patted the young man affectionately on the shoulder end of chapter 11 chapter 12 of the Cossacks this LibriVox recording is in the public domain the Cossacks by Leo Tolstoy translated by Louise and Elmer Mord chapter 12 Vanusha, who meanwhile had finished his housekeeping arrangements and had even been shaved by the company's barber and had pulled his trousers out of his high boots as a sign that the company was stationed in comfortable quarters was in excellent spirits he looked attentively but not benevolently at Iroshka as at a wild beast he had never seen before shook his head at the floor which the old man had dirtied having taken two bottles from under a bench went to the landlady good evening kind people he said having made up his mind to be very gentle my master has sent me to get some Shikira will you draw some for me good folk the old woman gave no answer the girl who was arranging the kachif on her head before a little tartar mirror looked round at Vanusha in silence I'll pay money for it honoured people said Vanusha jingling the coppers in his pocket be kind to us and we too will be kind to you," he added how much? asked the old woman abruptly a court go my own, draw some for them said Granny Ulitka to her daughter take it from the caskers begun at my precious the girl took the keys in a decanter and went out of the hut with Vanusha tell me who is that young woman asked Olenin pointing to Marijanka who was passing the window the old man winked and nudged the young man with his elbow wait a bit," said he and reached out of the window he coughed and bellowed Marijanka dear, hello Marijanka my girly, won't you love me darling I'm a wag," he added and a whisper to Olenin the girl not turning her head and swinging her arms regularly and vigorously passed the window with the peculiarly smart and bold gait of a Cossack woman and only turned her dark shaded eyes slowly towards the old man love me and you'll be happy," shouted Arashka, winking and he looked questioningly at the cadet I'm a fine fellow, I'm a wag," he added she's a regular queen, that girl eh she is lovely," said Olenin call her here no, no," said the old man for that one a match is being arranged with Lukashka Luke, a fine Cossack, a brave who killed an abrac the other day I'll find you a better one I'll find you one that will be all dressed up in silk and silver once I've said it I'll do it I'll get you a regular beauty you an old man and say such things," replied Olenin why, it's a sin a sin, where's the sin," said the old man emphatically a sin to look at a nice girl a sin to have some fun with her or is it a sin to love her is that so in your parts? no my dear fellow, it's not a sin it's salvation God made you and God made the girl too he made it all so it is no sin to look at a nice girl that's what she was made for to be loved and to give joy that's how I judge it, my good fellow having crossed the yard and entered a cool dark storeroom filled with barrels Marianka went up to one of them and repeating the usual prayer plunged a dipper into it Vanusha standing in the doorway smiled as he looked at her he thought it very funny that she had only a smock on close fitting behind and tucked up in front and still funnier that she wore a necklace of silver coins he thought this quite un-Russian and that they would all laugh in the surf's quarters at home if they saw a girl like that la fille comme c'est très bien for a change, he thought I'll tell that to my master what are you standing in the light for, you devil the girl suddenly shouted why don't you pass me the decanter having filled the decanter with cool red wine Marianka handed it to Vanusha give the money to mother, she said pushing away the hand in which he held the money Vanusha laughed why are you so cross little dear he said good-naturedly irresolutely shuffling with his feet while the girl was covering the barrel she began to laugh and you, are you kind we, my master and I are very kind Vanusha answered decidedly we are so kind that wherever we have stayed our hosts were always very grateful it's because he's generous the girl stood listening and is your master married? she asked no, the master is young and unmarried because noble gentlemen can never marry young said Vanusha didactically a likely thing see what a fed up buffalo he is and too young to marry is he the chief of you all? she asked my master is a cadet that means he's not yet an officer but he's more important than a general he's an important man because not only our colonel but the sa himself knows him proudly explained Vanusha we work those other beggars in the line regiment and our papa himself was a senator he had more than a thousand serfs all his own and they send us a thousand rubles at a time that's why everyone likes us another may be a captain but have no money that's the use of that go away, I'll lock up so the girl interrupting him Vanusha brought all in in the wine and announced that la fille c'est très joli and laughing stupidly at once went out end of chapter 12