 CHAPTER XIII. Meanwhile the tattoo had sounded in the village square. The people had returned from their work. The herd lobed as in clouds of golden dust, it crowded at the village gate. The girls and the women hurried through the streets and yards, turning in their cattle. The sun had quite hidden itself behind the distant snowy peaks. One pale bluish shadow spread over land and sky. Above the darkened gardens, stars just discernible were kindling, and the sounds were gradually hushed in the village, the cattle having been attended to, and left for the night. The women came out and gathered at the corners of the streets, and, cracking sunflower seeds with their teeth, settled down on the earthen embankments of the houses. After on Marianca, having finished milking the buffalo and the other two cows, also joined one of these groups. The group consisted of several women and girls, and one old Cossack man. They were talking about the abrac who had been killed. The Cossack was narrating, and the women questioning him. I expect he'll get a handsome reward, said one of the women. Of course, it's said that they'll send him across. Mosev did try to wrong him, took the gun away from him, but the authorities at Kislyar heard of it. A mean creature that Mosev is. They say Lukashka has come home, remarked one of the girls. He and Azarka are merry-making at Yamka's. Yamka was an unmarried, disreputable Cossack woman who kept an illicit pot-house. I heard say they had drunk half a pailful. What luck that snatcher is, somebody remarked, a real snatcher, but there's no denying he's a fine lad, smart enough for anything, a right-minded lad. His father was just such another. That he Kyriak was. He takes after his father. When he was killed, the whole village howled. Look, there they are, added the speaker, pointing to the Cossacks who were coming down the street towards them. And Urgoshov has managed to come along with them, too, the drunkard. Lukashka, Azarka, and Urgoshov, having emptied half a pail of vodka, were coming towards the girls. The faces of all three, but especially that of the old Cossack, were redder than usual. Urgoshov was reeling and kept laughing and nudging Nizarka in the ribs. Why are you not singing, he shouted to the girls. Sing to our merry-making, I tell you. They were welcomed with the words, had a good day, had a good day. Why sing, it's not a holiday, said one of the women. You're tight, so you go and sing. Urgoshov roared with laughter, and nudged Nizarka. You'd better sing, and I'll begin, too. I'm clever, I'll tell you. Are you a sleep-fair one, said Nizarka? We've come from the cordon to drink your health, but we've already drunk Lukashka's health. Lukashka, when he reached the group, slowly raised his cap and stopped in front of the girls. His broad cheekbones and neck were red. He stood and spoke softly and sedately, but in his tranquillity and sedate-ness there was more of animation and strength than in all Nizarka's locustity and bustle. He reminded one of a playful colt that, with a snort and a flourish of its tail, suddenly stopped short and stands as though nailed to the ground with all forefeet. Lukashka stood quietly in front of the girls, his eyes laughed, and he spoke but little as he glanced now at his drunken companions and now at the girls. When Marianca joined the group, he raised his cap with a firm, deliberate movement, moved out of her way, and then stepped in front of her, with one foot a little forward, and with his thumbs in his belt, fingering his dagger. Marianca answered his greeting with a leisurely bow of her head, settled down on the earth-bank, and took some seeds out of the bosom of her smock. Lukashka, keeping his eyes fixed on Marianca, slowly cracked seeds and spat out the shells. All were quiet when Marianca joined the group. "'Have you come for long?' asked a woman, breaking the silence. "'Till tomorrow morning,' quietly replied Lukashka. "'Well, God grant you get something good,' said the Cossack. "'I'm glad of it, as I've just been saying.' "'And I say so, too,' put in the tipsy Ergyshov, laughing. "'What a lot of visitors have come,' he added, pointing to a soldier who was passing by. "'The soldier's vodka is good. I like it.' "'They've sent three of the devils to us,' said one of the women. "'Granddad went to the village elders, but they say nothing can be done.' "'Aha! Have you met with trouble?' said Ergyshov. "'I expect they have smoked you out with their tobacco,' asked another woman. "'Smoke as much as you like in the yard,' I say, "'but we won't allow it inside the hut. "'Not if the elder himself comes, I won't allow it. "'Besides, they may rob you. "'He's not courted any of them on himself, no fear, "'that devil's son of an elder.' "'You don't like it?' Ergyshov began again. "'And I've also heard them say, "'that the girls will have to make the soldier's beds "'and offer them chikir and honey,' said Nazarka, "'putting one foot forward and tilting his cap, like Lukashka.' Ergyshov burst into a roar of laughter, and seizing the girl nearest to him, he embraced her. "'I tell you true.' "'Now then, you black pitch,' squirreled the girl. "'I'll tell your old woman.' "'Tell her,' shouted he. "'That's quite right, what Nazarka says. "'A circular has been sent round. "'He can read you now, quite true.' And he began embracing the next girl. "'What are you up to, you beast?' squirreled the rosy round face to Stenka, laughing and lifting her arm to hit him. The Cossack stepped aside and nearly fell. "'There, they say girls have no strength, "'and you nearly killed me.' "'Get away, you black pitch. "'What devil has brought you from the cordon,' said Ustanka. And turning away from him, she again burst out laughing. "'You were asleep and missed the abreck, didn't you? "'Suppose he had done for you. "'It would have been all the better.' "'You'd have howled, I expect,' said Nazarka, laughing. "'Howled, a lightly thing. "'Just look, she doesn't care. "'She'd howl, Nazarka, eh? Would she?' said Ergyshov. Lukashka all this time stood silently, looking at Marianka. His gaze evidently confused the girl. "'Well, Marianka, I hear they've quartered one of the chiefs on you,' he said, drawing nearer. Marianka, as was her, won't. Waited before she replied, and slowly raising her eyes, looked at the Cossack. Lukashka's eyes were laughing as if something special, apart from what was said, was taking place between himself and the girl. "'Yes, it's all right for them, as they have two huts,' replied an old woman on Marianka's behalf. But at Fomushkin's now, they also have one of the chiefs quartered on them, and they say one whole corner is packed full with his things, and the family have no room left. Was such a thing ever heard of as that, they should turn a whole horde loose in the village,' she said. "'What the plague are they going to do here?' "'I've heard say they'll build a bridge across the Terek,' said one of the girls. "'And I've been told that they will dig a pit to put the girls in, because they don't love the lads,' said Nazarka, approaching Ustenko, and he again made a whimsical gesture, which set everybody laughing, and Ergyshov, passing by Marianka, who was next in turn, began to embrace an old woman. "'Why don't you hug Marianka? You should do it to each in turn,' said Nazarka. "'No, my old one is sweet as,' shouted the Cossack, kissing the struggling old woman. "'You'll throttle me,' she screamed, laughing. The tramp of regular footsteps at the other end of the street interrupted their laughter. Three soldiers in their cloaks, with their muskets on their shoulders, were marching in step to relieve guard by the ammunition wagon. The corporal, an old cavalryman, looked angrily at the Cossacks and led his men straight along the road where Lukashka and Nazarka were standing, so that they should have to get out of the way. Nazarka moved, but Lukashka only screwed up his eyes and turned his broad back without moving from his place. "'People are standing here, so you go round,' he muttered, half turning his head and tossing it contemptuously in the direction of the soldiers. The soldiers passed by in silence, keeping step regularly along the dusty road. Marianca began laughing, and all the other girls chimed in. "'What swell?' said Nazarka, just like long, skirted choristers, and he walked a few steps down the road imitating the soldiers. Again everyone broke into peals of laughter. Lukashka came slowly up to Marianca. "'And where have you put the chief?' he asked. Marianca thought for a moment. "'We've let him have the new hut,' she said. And is he old or young?' asked Lukashka, sitting down beside her. "'Do you think I've asked?' answered the girl. I went to get him some shikir and saw him sitting at the window with Dadi Orozhka, red-headed, he seemed. They'd brought a whole cartload of things.' And she dropped her eyes. "'Oh, how glad I am that I got leave from the cordon,' said Lukashka, moving closer to the girl and looking straight in her eyes all the time. "'And have you come for long?' asked Marianca, smiling slightly. "'Til the morning, give me some sunflower seeds,' he said, holding out his hand. Marianca now smiled outright and unfastened the neckband of her smock. "'Don't take them all,' she said. "'Really, I felt so dull all the time without you. I swear I did,' he said in a calm, restrained whisper, helping himself to some seeds out of the bosom of the girl's smock, and stooping still closer over her, he continued with laughing eyes, to talk to her in low tones. "'I won't come,' I tell you, Marianca suddenly said aloud, leaning away from me. "'No, really, what I wanted to say to you,' whispered Lukashka. "'By the heavens, do come!' Marianca shook her head, but did so with a smile. "'Nersey Marianca, hello, Nersey! Mammy is calling. Supper time!' shouted Marianca's little brother, running towards the group. "'I'm coming,' replied the girl. "'Go, my dear, go alone. I'll come in a minute.' Lukashka rose and raised his cap. "'I expect I'd better go home, too. That would be best,' he said, trying to appear unconcerned, but hardly able to repress a smile, and he disappeared behind the corner of the house. Meanwhile, night had entirely enveloped the village. Bright stars were scattered over the dark sky. The streets became dark and empty. Nisaka remained with the woman, on the earth bank, and their laughter was still heard, but Lukashka, having slowly moved away from the girls, crouched down like a cat, and then suddenly started running lightly, holding his dagger to steady it, not homeward, however, but towards the cornitz house. Having passed two streets, he turned into a lane, and lifting the skirt of his coat sat down on the ground in the shadow of a fence. A regular cornitz daughter, he thought about Marianca, won't even have a lark, the devil, but just wait a bit. The approaching footsteps of a woman attracted his attention. He began listening, and laughed all by himself. Marianca with bowed head, striking the pales of the fences with a switch, was walking with rapid regular strides straight towards him. Lukashka rose. Marianca started and stopped. What an accursed devil! You frighten me! So you have not gone home, she said, and laughed aloud. Lukashka put one arm around her, and with the other hand raised her face. What I wanted to tell you by heaven, his voice trembled and broke. What are you talking of at night time on, Marianca? Mother is waiting for me, and you'd better go to your sweetheart. And freeing herself from his arms, she ran away a few steps. When she had reached the wattle fence of her home, she stopped and turned to the Cossack, who was running beside her, and still trying to persuade her to stay a while with him. Well, what do you want to say midnight Gad about, and she again began laughing. Don't laugh at me, Marianca, by the heaven. Well, what if I have a sweetheart? May the devil take her. Only say the word, and now I'll love you. I'll do anything you wish. Here they are. And he jingled the money in his pocket. Now we can live splendidly. Others have pleasures, and I, I get no pleasure from you, Marianca dear. The girl did not answer. She stood before him, breaking her switch into little bits with a rapid movement of her fingers. Lukashka suddenly clenched his teeth and fists. And why keep waiting and waiting? Don't I love you, darling? You can do what you like with me, said he suddenly, frowning angrily and seizing both her hands. The calm expression of Marianca's face and voice did not change. Don't bluster, Lukashka, but listen to me, she answered, not pulling away her hands, but holding the Cossack at arm's length. It's true I am a girl, but you listen to me. It does not depend on me. But if you love me, I'll tell you this. Let go my hands. I'll tell you without. I'll marry you, but you'll never get any nonsense from me, said Marianca, without turning her face. What, you'll marry me? Marriage does not depend on us. Love me yourself, Marianca dear, said Lukashka, from sullen and furious becoming again gentle, submissive and tender, and smiling as he looked closely into her eyes. Marianca clung to him and kissed him firmly on the lips. Brother dear, she whispered, pressing him convulsively to her. Then suddenly, tearing herself away, she ran into the gate of her house without looking round. In spite of the Cossack's entreaties to wait another minute, to hear what he had to say, Marianca did not stop. Go, she cried. You'll be seen. I do believe that devil, Al-Lodje, is walking about the yard. Cornet's daughter, Lord Lukashka, she will marry me. Marriage is all very well, but you just love me. He found Azarka at Yonka's house, and after having a spree with him, went on to Dunagka's house, where, in spite of her not being faithful to him, he spent the night. End of chapter 13. Chapter 14 of the Cossack's. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. The Cossack's by Leo Tolstoy. Translated by Louise Nelma Mord. Chapter 14. It was quite true that Olinin had been walking about the yard when Marianca entered the gate, and had heard her say, that devil, Al-Lodje, is walking about. He had spent that evening with Daddy Aroshka, the porch of his new lodging. He had had a table, a samovar, wine, and a candle brought out, and over a cup of tea and a cigar, he listened to the tales of the old man, told seated on the threshold at his feet. Though the air was still, the candle dripped and flickered, now lighting up the post of the porch, now the table and the crockery, now the crocked white head of the old man. Moths circled round the flame, and, shedding the dust of their wings, fluttered on the table, and in the glasses, flew into the candle flame, and disappeared in the black space beyond. Olinin and Aroshka had emptied five bottles of Shakir. Aroshka filled the glasses every time, offering one to Olinin, drinking his health, and talking untiringly. He told of Kossak life in the old days, of his father, the Broad, who alone had carried on his back a boar's carcass, weighing three hundred weight, and drank two pales of Shakir at one sitting. He told of his own days, and his Chum Girchik, with whom during the plague he used to smuggle felt cloaks across the terrac. He told how one morning he had killed two deer, and about his little soul, who used to run to him at the cordon at night. He told all this so eloquently, and picturesquely, that Olinin did not notice how time passed. Ah, yes, my dear fellow, you did not know me in my golden days. Then I'd have shown you things. Today it's Iroshka licks the jug, but then Iroshka was famous in the whole regiment. Whose was the finest horse? Who had a girder sword? To whom should one go to get a drink? With whom go on the spree? Who should be sent to the mountains to kill Ahmet Khan? Why, always Iroshka? Whom did the girls love? Always Iroshka had to answer for it. Because I was a real brave, a drinker, a thief! I used to seize herds of horses in the mountains. A singer. I was a master of every art. There are no Cossacks like that nowadays. It's disgusting to look at them. When they're that high—Iroshka held his hand three feet from the ground— they put on idiotic boots and keep looking at them. That's all the pleasure they know. Or they'll drink themselves foolish. Not like men, but all wrong. And who was I? I was Iroshka, the thief. They knew me not only in this village, but up in the mountains. Tata princes, my Kunaks, used to come to see me. I used to be everybody's Kunak. If he was a Tata, with a Tata. An Armenian, with an Armenian. A soldier, with a soldier. An officer, with an officer. I didn't care as long as he was a drinker. He says you should cleanse yourself from intercourse with the world. Not drink with soldiers, not eat with a Tata. Who says all that? I'll stall him in. Why? I'll teach ya. But listen to a mullah or a Tata caddy. He says, you one-believing gyars. Why do you eat pig? That shows that everyone has his own law. But I think it's all one. God has made everything for the joy of man. There is no sin in any of it. Take example from an animal. It lives in the Tata's reeds or in ours. Wherever it happens to go, there is its home. Whatever God gives it, that it eats. But how people say we have to lick red hot plates in hell for that. And I think it's all a fraud. He added after a pause. What is a fraud? asked Olinin. Why? What the preachers say. We had an army captain in Shavleinah who was my Kunak, a fine fellow just like me. He was killed in Chechnya. Well, he used to say that the preachers invent all that out of their own heads. When you die the grass will grow on your grave and that's all. The old man laughed. He was a desperate fellow. And how old are you? asked Olinin. The Lord only knows. I must be about seventy. When a Saritsa reigned in Russia I was no longer very small. So you can reckon it out. I must be seventy. Yes, you must. But you're still a fine fellow. Well, thank heaven I am healthy, quite healthy, except that a woman, a witch, has harmed me. How? Oh, just harmed me. And so when you die the grass will grow, repeated Olinin. Hiroshka evidently did not wish to express his thought clearly. He was silent for a while. And what did you think? Drink! he shouted suddenly, smiling and handing Olinin some wine. End of Chapter 14. Chapter 15 of the Cossacks This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. The Cossacks by Leo Tolstoy. Translated by Louise and Elmer Mord. Chapter 15 Well, what was I saying? He continued, trying to remember. Yes, that's the sort of man I am. I am a hunter. There is no hunter equal to me in the army. I will find and show you any animal and any bird, and what and where. I know it all. I have dogs and two guns and nets, and a screen and a hawk. I have everything, thank the Lord. If you are not bragging but are a real sportsman, I'll show you everything. Do you know what a man I am? When I have found a track, I know the animal. I know where he will lie down and where he'll drink or wallow. I make myself a perch and sit there all night watching. What's the good of staying at home? One only gets into mischief, gets drunk. And here women come and chatter, and boys shout at me, enough to drive one mad. It's a different matter when you go out at nightfall. Choose yourself a place. Press down the reeds and sit there and stay waiting, like a jolly fellow. One knows everything that goes on in the woods. One looks up at the sky. The stars move. You look at them and find out from them how the time goes. One looks round. The wood is rustling. One goes on waiting. Now there comes a crackling. A boar comes to rub himself. One listens to hear the young eaglets screech, and then the cocks give voice in the village, or the geese. When you hear the geese, you know it is not yet midnight. And I know all about it, but when a gun is fired somewhere far away, thoughts come to me. One thinks, who is that firing? Is it another Cossack like myself, who has been watching for some animal? And has he killed it, or only wounded it, so that now the poor thing goes through the reeds, smearing them with its blood all for nothing? I don't like that. Oh, how I dislike it. Why injure a beast? You fool, you fool! But one thinks, maybe an abrac has killed some silly little Cossack. All this passes through one's mind. And once, as I sat watching by the river, I saw a cradle floating down. It was sound except for one corner which was broken off. Thoughts did come that time. I thought some of your soldiers, the devils, must have got into a Tartar village and seized the Chechen women. But one of the devils has killed the little one, taken it by its legs, and hit its head against a wall. Don't they do such things? Oh, men have no souls. And thoughts came to me that filled me with pity. I thought they've thrown away the cradle and driven the wife out, and her brave has taken his gun and come across to our side to rob us. One watches and thinks, and when one hears a litter breaking through the thicket, something begins to knock inside one. Dear one, come this way. They'll sent me on things. And one sits and does not stir while one's heart goes, Done, done, done, and simply lifts you. Once this spring, a fine litter came near me. I saw something black, in the name of the Father and of the Son. And I was just about to fire when she grunts to her pigs, Danger children! And she says, There's a man there, and off they all ran, breaking through the bushes. And she had been so close, I could almost have bitten her. How could a sow tell her brood that a man was there, whilst on him? What do you think? You think the beasts are full? No, he is wiser than a man. But you do call him a pig. He knows everything. Take this, for instance. A man will pass along your track and not notice it. But a pig, as soon as it gets onto your track, turns and runs at once. That shows there is wisdom in him, since he scents your smell, and you don't. And there is this to be said too. You wish to kill it, and it wishes to go about the woods alive. You have one law, and it has another. It is a pig, but it is no worse than you. It too is God's creature. Ah, dear. Man is foolish, foolish, foolish. The old man repeated this several times, and then, letting his head drop, he sat thinking. Olin in also became thoughtful, and descending from the porch with his hands behind his back, began pacing up and down the yard. Iroshka, rousing himself, raised his head and began gazing intently at the moths, circling round the flickering flame of the candle, and burning themselves in it. Fool, fool, he said. Where are you flying to? Fool, fool. He rose and with his thick fingers began to drive away the moths. You'll burn, little fool. Fly this way, there's plenty of room. He spoke tenderly, trying to catch them delicately by their wings with his thick fingers, and then letting them fly again. You are killing yourself, and I'm sorry for you. He sat a long time chattering and sipping out of the bottle. Olin in paced up and down the yard. Suddenly he was struck by the sound of whispering outside the gate, involuntarily holding his breath. He heard a woman's laughter, a man's voice, and the sound of a kiss. Intentionally rustling the grass under his feet, he crossed to the opposite side of the yard, but after a while the wattle fence creaked. A cossack in a dark Circassian coat and a white sheepskin cap passed along the other side of the fence, with his loop, and a tall woman with a white kerchief on her head went past Olin. You and I have nothing to do with one another. Was what Marianca's firm step gave him to understand. He followed her with his eyes to the porch of the hut, and he even saw her through the window take off her kerchief and sit down. And suddenly a feeling of lonely depression and some vague longings and hopes, an envy of someone or other, overcame the young man's soul. The last lights had been put out in the huts, the last sounds had died away in the village, the wattle fences, and the cattle gleaming white in the yards, the roofs of the houses, and the stately poplars all seemed to be sleeping the labourers healthy, peaceful sleep. Only the incessant ringing voices of frogs from the damp distance reached the young man. In the east the stars were growing fewer and fewer, and seemed to be melting in the increasing light, but overhead they were denser and deeper than before. The old man was dozing with his head on his hand, a cock crowed in the yard opposite, but Olin in still paced up and down thinking of something. The sound of a song sung by several voices reached him, and he stepped up to the fence and listened. The voices of several young Cossacks caroled a merry song, and one voice was distinguishable among them all by its firm strength. Do you know who is singing there? said the old man, rousing himself. It is the brave Lukashka, he has killed a Chechen, and now he rejoices. And what is there to rejoice at? The fool, the fool! And have you ever killed people, asked Olin? You devil, shouted the old man. What are you asking? One must not talk so. It is a serious thing to destroy a human being. Ah, a very serious thing. Goodbye, my dear fellow. I've eaten my fill and am drunk, he said, rising. Shall I come tomorrow to go shooting? Yes, come. Mind get up early, if you oversleep you will be fine. Never fear, I'll be up before you, answered Olin. The old man left. The song ceased, but one could hear footsteps and merry talk. A little later the singing broke out again, but farther away, and Oroshka's loud voice chimed in with the other. What people, what a life! thought Olin, with a sigh, as he returned alone to his hut. End of Chapter 15 Chapter 16 of The Cossacks This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Recording by J. Badal The Cossacks by Leo Tolstoy. Translated by Louise and Elmer Maud. Chapter 16 Daddy Oroshka was a superannuated and solitary Cossack. Twenty years ago his wife had gone over to the Orthodox Church and run away from him, and married a Russian sergeant major, and he had no children. He was not bragging when he spoke of himself as having been the boldest daredevil in the village when he was young. Everybody in the regiment knew of his old time prowess. The death of more than one Russian, as well as Chechen, lay on his conscience. He used to go plundering in the mountains, and robbed the Russians too, and he had twice been in prison. The greater part of his life was spent in the forests, hunting. There he lived for days on a crust of bread, and drank nothing but water. But on the other hand, when he was in the village, he made merry from morning to night. After leaving Alenen, he slept for a couple of hours, and awoke before it was light. He lay on his bed thinking of the man he had become acquainted with the evening before. Alenen's simplicity, simplicity in the sense of not grudging him a drink, pleased him very much, and so did Alenen himself. He wondered why the Russians were all simple and so rich, and why they were educated, and yet knew nothing. He pondered on these questions, and also considered what he might get out of Alenen. Daddy Iroshka's hut was of a good size and not old, but the absence of a woman was very noticeable in it. Contrary to the usual cleanliness of the Cossacks, the whole of this hut was filthy and exceedingly untidy. A blood-stained coat had been thrown on the table. Half a dough-cake lay beside a plucked and mangled crow with which to feed the hawk. Sandals of rawhide, a gun, a dagger, a little bag, wet clothes, and sundry rags lay scattered on the benches. In a corner stood a tub with stinking water, in which another pair of sandals were being steeped, and nearby was a gun and a hunting-screen. On the floor a net had been thrown down, and several dead pheasants lay there, while a hen tied by its leg was walking about near the table, pecking among the dirt. In the unheated oven stood a broken pot with some kind of milky liquid. On the top of the oven a falcon was screeching, and trying to break the cord by which it was tied, and a molting hawk sat quietly on the edge of the oven, looking a scance at the hen, and occasionally bowing its head to right and left. Daddy Orochka himself, in his shirt, lay on his back on a short bed rigged up between the wall and the oven, with his strong legs raised and his feet on the oven. He was picking with his thick fingers at the scratches left on his hands by the hawk, which he was accustomed to carry without wearing gloves. The whole room, especially near the old man, was filled with that strong but not unpleasant mixture of smells that he always carried about with him. Oida ma, daddy? Is daddy in? Came through the window in a sharp voice, which he had once recognized as Lukashka's. Oida, oida, oida, I'm in, shouted the old man. Come in, neighbor Mark, Luke Mark. Come to see daddy? On your way to the cordon? At the sound of his master's shout, the hawk flapped his wings and pulled at his cord. The old man was fond of Lukashka, who was the only man he accepted from his general contempt for the younger generation of Cossacks. Besides that, Lukashka and his mother, as near neighbors, often gave the old man wine, clotted cream, and other home produce, which Orochka did not possess. Daddy Orochka, who all his life had allowed himself to get carried away, always explained his infatuations from a practical point of view. Well, why not, he used to say to himself? I'll give them some fresh meat or a bird, and they won't forget daddy. They'll sometimes bring a cake or a piece of pie. Good morning, Mark. I'm glad to see you, shouted the old man cheerfully, and quickly putting down his bare feet he jumped off his bed and walked a step or two along the creaking floor, looked down at his outturned toes, and suddenly, amused by the appearance of his feet, smiled, stamped with his bare heel on the ground, stamped again, and then performed a funny dance step. That's clever, eh? he asked, his small eyes glistening. Lukashka smiled faintly. Going back to the cordon, asked the old man, I have brought the chiquir I promised you when we were at the cordon. May Christ save you, said the old man, and he took up the extremely wide trousers that were lying on the floor, and his beshmet, put them on, fastened a strap round his waist, poured some water from an earthenware pot over his hands, wiped them on the old trousers, smoothed his beard with a bit of comb, and stopped in front of Lukashka. Ready, he said, Lukashka fetched a cup, wiped it, and filled it with wine, and then handed it to the old man. Your health to the father and the son, said the old man, accepting the wine with solemnity, may you have what you desire, may you always be a hero, and obtain a cross. Lukashka also drank a little after repeating a prayer, and then put the wine on the table. The old man rose and brought out some dried fish, which he laid on the threshold, where he beat it with a stick to make it tender. Then, having put it with his horny hands on a blue plate, his only one, he placed it on the table. I have all I want, I have victuals, thank God, he said proudly. Well, and what of Mosev, he added. Lukashka, evidently wishing to know the old man's opinion, told him how the officer had taken the gun from him. Never mind the gun, said the old man. If you don't give the gun, you will get no reward. But they say, daddy, it's little reward a fellow gets when he's not yet a mounted Cossack, and the gun is a fine one, a Crimean, worth 80 rubles. Eh, let it go! I had a dispute like that with an officer. He wanted my horse. Give it me, and you'll be made a cornet, says he. I wouldn't, and I got nothing. Yes, daddy, but you see, I have to buy a horse, and they say you can't get one the other side of the river under 50 rubles, and mother has not yet sold our wine. Eh, we didn't bother, said the old man. When daddy Yoroshka was your age, he already stole herds of horses from the Nogai folk, and drove them across the Terek. Sometimes we'd give a fine horse for a quart of vodka, or a cloak. Why so cheap? asked Lukashka. You're a fool, a fool, Mark, said the old man contemptuously. Why, that's what one steals for, so as not to be stingy. As for you, I suppose you haven't so much as seen how one dries off a herd of horses. Why don't you speak? What's one to say, daddy? replied Lukashka. It seems we are not the same sort of men as you were. You're a fool, Mark, a fool. Not the same sort of men, retorted the old man, mimicking the Kossak lad. I was not that sort of Kossak at your age. How's that? asked Lukashka. The old man shook his head contemptuously. Daddy Yoroshka was simple. He did not grudge anything. That's why I was Kunak with all Chechnya. A Kunak would come to visit me, and I'd make him drunk with Vodka, and make him happy, and put him to sleep with me. And when I went to see him, I'd take him a present, a dagger. That's the way it is done. And not as you do nowadays. The only amusement lads have now is to crack seeds and spit out the shells. The old man finished contemptuously, imitating the present-day Kossaks cracking seeds and spitting out the shells. Yes, I know, said Lukashka. That's so. If you wish to be a fellow of the right sort, be a brave, and not a peasant. Because even a peasant can buy a horse. Pay the money and take the horse. They were silent for a while. Well, of course it's dull, both in the village and the cordon, Daddy. But there's nowhere one can go for a bit of sport. All our fellows are so timid. Take Nazarka. The other day when we went to the Tartar village, Gere Khan asked us to come to Nogai to take some horses. But no one went. And how was I to go alone? And what of Daddy? Do you think I'm quite dried up? No, I'm not dried up. Let me have a horse, and I'll be off to Nogai at once. What's the good of talking nonsense? Said Lukashka. You'd better tell me what to do about Gere Khan. He says, only bring horses to the Tarek. And then even if you bring a whole stud, I'll find a place for them. You see, he's also a shaven-headed Tartar. How's one to believe him? You may trust Gere Khan. All his kin were good people. His father too was a faithful Kunak. But listen to Daddy, and I won't teach you wrong. Make him take an oath. Then it will be all right. And if you go with him, have your pistol ready all the same, especially when it comes to dividing up the horses. I was nearly killed that way once by a Chechen. I wanted ten rubles from him for a horse. Trusting is all right. But don't go to sleep without a gun. Lukashka listened attentively to the old man. I say, Daddy, have you any stone-break grass? He asked after a pause. No, I haven't any. But I'll teach you how to get it. You're a good lad and won't forget the old man. Shall I tell you? Tell me, Daddy. You know a tortoise. She's a devil that tortoises. Of course I know. Find her nest and fence it round so that she can't get in. Well, she'll come, go around it, and then we'll go off to find the stone-break grass, and we'll bring some along and destroy the fence. Anyhow, next morning, come in good time, and where the fence is broken, there you'll find the stone-break grass lying. Take it wherever you like. No lock and no bar will be able to stop you. Have you tried it yourself, Daddy? As for trying, I've not tried it, but I was told of it by good people. I used only one charm. That was to repeat the pilgrim rhyme when mounting my horse, and no one ever killed me. What is the pilgrim rhyme, Daddy? What? Don't you know it? Oh, what people! You're right to ask, Daddy. Well, listen, and repeat after me. Hail ye living in Sion. This is your king. Our steeds we shall sit on. Saphonius is weeping. Zacharias is speaking. Father pilgrim, mankind ever loving. Kind ever loving, the old man repeated. Do you know it now? Try it. Lukashka laughed. Come, Daddy. Was it that that hindered their killing you? Maybe it just happened so. You've grown too clever. You learn it all and say it. It will do you no harm. Well, suppose you have sung pilgrim. It's all right. And the old man himself began laughing. But just one thing, Luk. Don't you go to no guy? Why? Times have changed. You are not the same men. You've become rubbishy Cossacks. And see how many Russians have come down on us. You'd get to prison. Really, give it up. Just as if you could. Now, Gearchick and I, we used, and the old man was about to begin one of his endless tales. But Lukashka glanced at the window and interrupted him. It's quite light, Daddy. It's time to be off. Look us up some day. May Christ save you. I'll go to the officer. I promise to take him out shooting. He seems a good fellow. End of Chapter 16 Chapter 17 of the Cossacks This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Recording by J. Badal The Cossacks by Leo Tolstoy Translated by Louise and Elmer Maud Chapter 17 From Irochka's hut Lukashka went home. As he returned the dewy mists were rising from the ground and enveloped the village. In various places the cattle, though out of sight, could be heard beginning to stir. The cocks called to one another with increasing frequency and insistence. The air was becoming more transparent, and the villagers were getting up. Not till he was close to it could Lukashka discern the fence of his yard, all wet with dew, the porch of the hut, and the open shed. From the misty yard he heard the sound of an axe chopping wood. Lukashka entered the hut. His mother was up and stood at the oven throwing wood into it. His little sister was still lying in bed asleep. Well, Lukashka had enough holiday-making, asked his mother softly. Where did you spend the night? I was in the village, replied her son reluctantly, reaching for his musket which he drew from its cover and examined carefully. His mother swayed her head. Lukashka poured a little gunpowder onto the pan, took out a little bag from which he drew some empty cartridge cases, which he began filling, carefully plugging each one with a ball wrapped in a rag. Then, having tested the loaded cartridges with his teeth and examined them, he put down the bag. I say, mother, I told you the bags wanted mending. Have they been done? he asked. Oh yes, our dumb girl was mending something last night. Why, is it time for you to be going back to the cordon? I haven't seen anything of you. Yes, as soon as I have got ready I shall have to go, answered Lukashka, tying up the gunpowder. And where is our dumb one? Outside? Chopping wood, I expect. She kept fretting for you. I shall not see him at all, she said. She puts her hand to her face like this. And clicks her tongue, and presses her hands to her heart, as much as to say, sorry, shall I call her in? She understood all about the abrac. Call her, said Lukashka. And I had some tallow there. Bring it. I must grease my sword. The old woman went out, and a few minutes later Lukashka's dumb sister came up the creaking steps and entered the hut. She was six years older than her brother, and would have been extremely like him, had it not been for the dull and coarsely changeable expression, common to all deaf and dumb people, of her face, she wore a coarse smock all patched, her feet were bare and muddy, and on her head she had an old blue kerchief. Her neck, arms, and face were sinewy like a peasant's. Her clothing and her whole appearance indicated that she always did the hard work of a man. She brought in a heap of logs, which she threw down by the oven. Then she went up to her brother, and with a joyful smile, which made her whole face pucker up, touched him on the shoulder, and began making rapid signs to him with her hands, her face, and whole body. That's right, that's right. Stjopka is a trump, answered the brother, nodding. She's fetched everything, and mended everything. She's a trump. Here, take this for it. He brought out two pieces of gingerbread from his pocket, and gave them to her. The dumb woman's face flushed with pleasure, and she began making a weird noise for joy. Having seized the gingerbread, she began to gesticulate, still more rapidly, frequently pointing in one direction and passing her thick finger over her eyebrows and her face. Ukashka understood her, and kept nodding, while he smiled slightly. She was telling him to give the girls dainties, and that the girls liked him, and that one girl, Marienka, the best of them all, loved him. She indicated Marienka by rapidly pointing in the direction of Marienka's home, and to her own eyebrows and face, and by smacking her lips and swaying her head. Loves, she expressed, by pressing her hands to her breast, kissing her hand, and pretending to embrace someone. Their mother returned to the hut, and seeing what her dumb daughter was saying, smiled and shook her head. Her daughter showed her the gingerbread, and again made the noise, which expressed joy. I told Ulitka the other day that I'd send a matchmaker to them, said the mother. She took my words well. Ukashka looked silently at his mother. But how about selling the wine, mother? I need a horse. I'll cart it when I have time. I must get the barrels ready, said the mother, evidently not wishing her son to meddle in domestic matters. When you go out, you'll find a bag in the passage. I borrowed from the neighbors, and got something for you to take back to the cordon, or shall I put it in your saddle-bag? All right, answered Ukashka. And if Gere Khan should come across the river, sent him to me at the cordon, for I shan't get leave again for a long time now. I have some business with him. He began to get ready to start. I will send him on, said the old woman. It seems you have been springing at Yamkas all the time. I went out in the night to see the cattle, and I think it was your voice, I heard singing songs. Ukashka did not reply, but went out into the passage, threw the bags over his shoulder, tucked up the skirts of his coat, took his musket, and then stopped for a moment on the threshold. Good-bye, mother, he said, as he closed the gate behind him. Send me a small barrel with Nazarka. I promised it to the lads, and he'll call for it. May Christ keep you, Ukashka. God be with you. I'll send you some, some from the new barrel. Said the old woman, going to the fence. But listen, she added, leaning over the fence. The Kossak stopped. You've been making merry here. Well, that's all right. Why should not a young man amuse himself? God has sent you luck, and that's good. But now look out and mind, my son. Don't you go and get into mischief. Above all, satisfy your superiors. One has to. And I will sell the wine and find money for a horse. And we'll arrange a match with a girl for you. All right, all right, answered her son, frowning. His deaf sister shouted to attract his attention. She pointed to her head and the palm of her hand, to indicate the shaved head of a Chechen. Then she frowned, and pretending to aim with a gun, she shrieked, and began rapidly humming and shaking her head. This meant that Lukashka should kill another Chechen. Lukashka understood. He smiled, and shifting the gun at his back under his cloak, stepped lightly and rapidly, and soon disappeared in the thick mist. The old woman, having stood a little while at the gate, returned silently to the hut, and immediately began working. End of Chapter 17 Chapter 18 of the Kossaks This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Recording by J. Bedel. The Kossaks by Leo Tolstoy. Translated by Louise and Elmer Maud. Chapter 18 Lukashka returned to the cordon. And at the same time Daddy Orozhka whistled to his dogs, and, climbing over his wattle fence, went to Alenin's lodging, passing by the back of the houses. He disliked meeting women before going out hunting or shooting. He found Alenin still asleep, and even Vanusha, though awake, was still in bed and looking round the room, considering whether it was not time to get up. When Daddy Orozhka, gone on shoulder, and in full hunters' trappings, opened the door. A cudgel, he shouted in his deep voice, an alarm, the Chechens are upon us. Ivan, get the Samavar ready for your master, and get up yourself. Quick! cried the old man. That's our way, my good man. Why, even the girls are already up. Look out of the window. See, she's going for water, and you're still sleeping. Alenin awoke and jumped up, feeling fresh and light-hearted at the sight of the old man, and at the sound of his voice. Quick, Vanusha, quick! he cried. Is that the way you go hunting? said the old man. Others are having their breakfast, and you are asleep. Yem, here, he called to his dog. Is your gun ready? he shouted, as loud as if a whole crowd were in the hut. Well, it's true I'm guilty, but it can't be helped. The powder Vanusha, and the wads, said Alenin. A fine, shouted the old man. Do te vulevu? asked Vanusha, grinning. You're not one of us. Your gavel is not like our speech, you devil. The old man shouted at Vanusha, showing the stumps of his teeth. A first offence must be forgiven, said Alenin playfully, drying on his high boots. The first offence shall be forgiven, answered Eroshka. But if you oversleep another time, you'll be fined a pale chikir. When it gets warmer, you won't find the deer. And even if we do find him, he is wiser than we are, said Alenin, repeating the words spoken by the old man the evening before. And you can't deceive him. Yes, laugh away. You kill one first, and then you may talk. Now then, hurry up. Look, there's the master himself coming to see you, added Eroshka, looking out of the window. Just see how he's got himself up. He's put on a new coat so that you should see that he's an officer. These people, these people. Sure enough, Vanusha came in and announced that the master of the house wished to see Alenin. L'argent, he remarked profoundly, to forewarn his master of the meaning of this visitation. Following him, the master of the house, in a new circation coat, with an officer's stripes on the shoulders, and with polished boots, quite exceptional among Cossacks, entered the room, swaying from side to side, and congratulated his lodger on a safe arrival. The cornet, Elias Vasilych, was an educated Cossack. He had been to Russia proper, was a regimental school teacher, and above all, he was noble. He wished to appear noble, but one could not help feeling, beneath his grotesque pretense of polish, his affectation, his self-confidence, and his absurd way of speaking, he was just the same as Daddy Eroshka. This could also be clearly seen by his sun-burned face, and his hands, and his red nose. Alenin asked him to sit down. Good morning, Father Elias Vasilych, Sodoroshka, rising with, or so it seemed to Alenin, an ironically low bow. Good morning, Daddy, so you're here already, said the cornet, with a careless nod. The cornet was a man of about forty, with a gray-pointed beard, skinny and lean, but handsome, and very fresh looking for his age. Having come to see Alenin, he was evidently afraid of being taken for an ordinary Cossack, and wanted to let Alenin feel his importance from the first. That's our Egyptian Nimrod, he remarked, addressing Alenin, and pointing to the old man with a self-satisfied smile, a mighty hunter before the Lord. He's our foremost man on every hand. You've already been pleased to get acquainted with him. Daddy Eroshka gazed at his feet in their shoes of wet rawhide, and shook his head thoughtfully at the cornet's ability in learning, and muttered to himself, Egyptian Nimrod, what things he invents. Yes, you see we mean to go hunting, answered Alenin. Yes, sir, exactly, said the cornet, but I have a small business with you. What do you want? Seeing that you are a gentleman, began the cornet, and as I may understand myself to be in the rank of an officer too, and therefore we may always progressively negotiate as gentlemen do. He stopped, and looked with a smile at Alenin, and at the old man. But if you have the desire with my consent, then, as my wife is a foolish woman of our class, she could not quite comprehend your words of yesterday's date. Therefore my quarters might be let for six rubles to the regimental agitant, without the stables, but I can always avert that from myself free of charge. But, as you desire, therefore I, being myself of an officer's rank, can come to an agreement with you in everything personally, as an inhabitant of this district, not according to our customs, but can maintain the conditions in every way. Speaks clearly, muttered the old man. The cornet continued in the same strain for a long time. At last, not without difficulty, Alenin gathered that the cornet wished to let his rooms to him, Alenin, for six rubles a month. The latter gladly agreed to this, and offered his visitor a glass of tea. The cornet declined it. According to our silly custom, we considered a sort of sin to drink out of a worldly tumbler, he said. Though, of course, with my education I may understand, but my wife, from her human weakness, well then, will you have some tea? If you will permit me, I will bring my own particular glass, answered the cornet, and stepped out into the porch. Bring me my glass, he cried. In a few minutes the door opened, and a young, sunburned arm in a print sleeve thrust itself in, holding a tumbler in the hand. The cornet went up, took it, and whispered something to his daughter. Alenin poured tea for the cornet into the latter's own particular glass, and for Iroshka into a worldly glass. However, I do not desire to detain you, said the cornet, scouting his lips and emptying his tumbler. I too have a great liking for fishing, and I am here, so to say, only on leave of absence for recreation from my duties. I too have the desire to tempt fortune, and see whether some gifts of the tarik may not fall to my share. I hope you too will come and see us, and have a drink of our wine, according to the custom of our village, he added. The cornet bowed, shook hands with Alenin, and went out. While Alenin was getting ready, he heard the cornet giving orders to his family in an authoritative and sensible tone, and a few minutes later he saw him pass by the window in a tattered coat with his trousers rolled up to his knees and a fishing net over his shoulder. A rascal, said Daddy Iroshka, emptying his worldly tumbler, and will you really pay him six rubles? Was such a thing ever heard of! They would let you the best hut in the village for two rubles. What a beast! Why, I'd let you have mine for three. No, I'll remain here, said Alenin. Six rubles! Clearly it's a fool's money. Hey, hey, hey, answer the old man. Let's have some chikir, Ivan. Having had a snack and a drink of vodka to prepare themselves for the road, Alenin and the old man went out together before eight o'clock. At the gate they came up against a wagon, to which a pair of oxen were harnessed. With a white kerchief tied round her head down to her eyes, a coat over her smock, and wearing high boots, Marianca, with a long switch in her hand, was dragging the oxen by a cord tied to their horns. Mammy, said the old man, pretending that he was going to seize her. Marianca flourished her switch at him, and glanced merrily at them both with her beautiful eyes. Alenin felt still more light-hearted. Now then, come on, come on, he said, throwing his gun on his shoulder and conscious of the girl's eyes upon him. G'yup! sounded Marianca's voice behind them, followed by the creak of the moving wagon. As long as their road lay through the pastures at the back of the village, Yoroshka went on talking. He could not forget the cornet, and kept on abusing him. Why are you so angry with him? asked Alenin. He's stingy, and I don't like it, answered the old man. He'll leave it all behind when he dies. Then who's he saving up for? He's built two houses, and he's got a second garden from his brother by a lawsuit. And in the matter of papers, what a dog he is. They come to him from other villages to fill up documents. As he writes it out, exactly so it happens. He gets it quite exact. But who is he saving for? He's only got one boy and a girl. When she's married, who'll be left? Well then, he's saving up for her dowry, said Alenin. What dowry? The girl is sought after. She's a fine girl. But he's such a devil that he must yet marry her to a rich fellow. He wants to get a big price for her. There's Luke, a Cossack, a neighbor and a nephew of mine, a fine lad. It's he who killed the Chechen. He's been wooing her for a long time. But he hasn't let him have her. He's given one excuse and another and a third. The girl's too young, he says. But I know what he is thinking. He wants to keep them bowing to him. He's been acting shamefully about that girl. Still, they will get her for Lukashka, because he is the best Cossack in the village. A brave who is killed in a wreck, and will be rewarded with a cross. But how about this? When I was walking up and down the yard last night, I saw my landlord's daughter and some Cossack kissing, said a linen. You're pretending, cried the old man, stopping. On my word, said a linen. Woman are the devil, said a Roshka, pondering. But what Cossack was it? I couldn't see. Well, what sort of a cap had he? A white one? Yes. And a red coat? About your height? No, a bit taller. It's he! And a Roshka burst out laughing. It's himself. It's Mark. He's Luke. But I call him Mark for a joke. His very self. I love him. I was just such a one myself. What's the good of minding them? My sweetheart used to sleep with her mother and her sister-in-law. But I managed to get in. She used to sleep upstairs. That witch, her mother, was a regular demon. It's awful how she hated me. Well, I used to come with a chum. Gurchik, his name was. We'd come under her window, and I'd climb on his shoulders, push up the window, and begin groping about. She used to sleep just there on a bench. Once I woke her up, she nearly called out. She hadn't recognized me. Who's there? She said. And I could not answer. Her mother was even beginning to stir. But I took off my cap and shoved it over her mouth. And she at once knew it by a seam in it, and ran out to me. I used not to want anything then. She'd bring along clotted cream, and grapes, and everything, out of the Roshka, who always explained things practically. And she wasn't the only one. It was a life. And what now? Now we'll follow the dog, get a pheasant to settle on a tree, and then you may fire. Would you have made up to Marianca? I'll tend to the dogs. I'll tell you tonight, said the old man, pointing to his favorite dog, Liam. After a pause they continued talking, while they went about a hundred paces. Then the old man stopped again, and pointed to a twig that lay across the path. What do you think of that? He said. You think it's nothing? It's bad that that stick is lying so. Why is it bad? He smiled. Ah, you don't know anything. Just listen to me. When a stick lies like that, don't you step across it, but go round it, or throw it off the path this way, and say, Father and Son and Holy Ghost, and then go on with God's blessing. Nothing will happen to you. That's what the old man used to teach me. Come, what rubbish, said Allianon. You'd better tell me more about Marianca. Does she carry on with Lukashka? Hush, be quiet now. The old man again interrupted in a whisper. Just listen. We'll go round through the forest. And the old man, stepping quietly in his soft shoes, led the way by a narrow path, leading into the dense, wild, overgrown forest. Now and again, with a frown, he turned to look at Allianon, who rustled and clattered with his heavy boots. And, carrying his gun carelessly, several times caught the twigs of trees that grew across the path. Don't make a noise. Step softly, soldier. The old man whispered angrily. There was a feeling in the air that the sun had risen. The mist was dissolving, but it still enveloped the tops of the trees. The forests looked terribly high. At every step the aspect changed. What had appeared like a tree proved to be a bush. And a reed looked like a tree. TRANSLATED BY LOUIS AND ELMER MOD CHAPTER XIX The mist had partly lifted, showing the wet reed thatches, and was now turning into dew that moistened the road and the grass beside the fence. Smoke rose everywhere, in clouds from the chimneys. The people were going out of the village, some to their work, some to the river, and some to the cordon. The hunters walked together along the damp, grass-grown path. The dogs, waging their tails and looking at their masters, ran on both sides of them. Myriads of gnats hovered in the air and pursued the hunters, covering their backs, eyes, and hands. The air was fragrant with the grass and with the dampness of the forest. Allinin continually looked round at the ox cart, in which Marianca sat, urging on the oxen with a long switch. It was calm. The sounds from the village, audible at first, now no longer reached the sportsmen. Only the brambles cracked as the dogs ran under them, and now and then birds called to one another. Allinin knew that danger lurked in the forest, that abricks always hid in such places. But he knew too that in the forest, for a man on foot, a gun is a great protection. Not that he was afraid, but he felt that another in his place might be. And looking into the damp misty forest and listening to the rare and faint sounds with strained attention, he changed his hold on his gun and experienced a pleasant feeling that was new to him. Daddy Orozhka went in front, stopping and carefully scanning every puddle where an animal had left the double track and pointing it out to Allinin. He hardly spoke at all and only occasionally made remarks in a whisper. The track they were following had once been made by wagons, but the grass had long overgrown it. The elm and plain tree forest on both sides of them was so dense and overgrown with creepers that it was impossible to see anything through it. Nearly every tree was enveloped from top to bottom with wild grapevines, and dark bramble bushes covered the ground thickly. Every little glade was overgrown with blackberry bushes and gray feathery reeds. In places, large hoof prints and small funnel-shaped pheasant trails led from the path into the thicket. The vigor of the growth of this forest, untrampled by cattle, struck Allinin at every turn, for he had never seen anything like it. This forest, the danger, the old man and his mysterious whispering, Marienka with her virile upright bearing, and the mountains. All this seemed to him like a dream. A pheasant has settled, whispered the old man, looking round and pulling his cap over his face. Cover your mug! A pheasant! He waved his arm angrily at Allinin and pushed forward almost on all fours. He don't like a man's mug. Allinin was still behind him when the old man stopped and began examining a tree. A cock pheasant on the tree clucked at the dog that was barking at it, and Allinin saw the pheasant. But at that moment a report, as of a cannon, came from Hiroshka's enormous gun. The bird fluttered up and, losing some feathers, fell to the ground. Coming up to the old man, Allinin disturbed another, and raising his gun he aimed and fired. The pheasant flew swiftly up and then, catching at the branches as he fell, dropped like a stone to the ground. Good man, the old man, who could not hit a flying bird, shouted, laughing. Having picked up the pheasants, they went on. Allinin, excited by the exercise and the praise, kept addressing remarks to the old man. Stop! Come this way, the old man interrupted. I noticed the track of deer here yesterday. After they had turned into the thicket and gone some three hundred paces, they scrambled through into a glade overgrown with reeds and partly underwater. Allinin failed to keep up with the old huntsman, and presently Daddy Hiroshka, some twenty paces in front, stooped down, nodding and beckoning with his arm. On coming up with him, Allinin saw a man's footprint to which the old man was pointing. Do you see? Yes, well, said Allinin, trying to speak as calmly as he could, a man's footstep. Involuntarily, a thought of Cooper's pathfinder and of a brex flashed through Allinin's mind, but noticing the mysterious manner with which the old man moved on, he hesitated to question him and remained in doubt whether this mysteriousness was caused by fear of danger or by the sport. No, it's my own footprint, the old man said quietly, and pointed to some grass under which the track of an animal was just perceptible. The old man went on, and Allinin kept up with him. Descending to lower ground, some twenty paces farther on, they came upon a spreading pear tree under which, on the black earth, lay the fresh dung of some animal. The spot, all covered over with wild vines, was like a cozy arbor, dark and cool. He's been here this morning, said the old man with a sigh. The lair is still damp, quite fresh. Suddenly they heard a terrible crash in the forest, some ten paces from where they stood. They both started and seized their guns, but they could see nothing, and only heard the branches breaking. The rhythmical rapid thud of galloping was heard for a moment, and then changed into a hollow rumble, which resounded farther and farther off, re-echoing in wider and wider circles through the forest. Allinin felt as though something had snapped in his heart. He peered carefully, but vainly, into the green thicket, and then turned to the old man. Daddy Orozhka, with his gun pressed to his breast, stood motionless. His cap was thrust backwards, his eyes gleamed with an unwanted glow, and his open mouth, with its worn yellow teeth, seemed to have stiffened in that position. A homesteg, he muttered, and throwing down his gun in despair, he began pulling at his gray beard. Here it stood! We should have come round by the path. Fool, fool! And he gave his beard an angry tug. Fool, pig! he repeated, pulling painfully at his own beard. Through the forest something seemed to fly away in the mist, and ever farther and farther off was heard the sound of the flight of the stag. It was already dusk when, hungry, tired, but full of vigor, Allinin returned with the old man. Dinner was ready. He ate and drank with the old man, till he felt warm and merry. Allinin then went out into the porch. Again to the west, the mountains rose before his eyes. Again the old man told his endless stories of hunting, of abrex, of sweethearts, and of all that free and reckless life. Again the fair Marianka went in and out, and across the yard, her beautiful, powerful form outlined by her smock. END OF CHAPTER XIX The next day Allinin went alone to the spot where he and the old man startled the stag. Instead of passing round through the gate, he climbed over the prickly hedge, as everybody else did, and before he had time to pull out the thorns that had caught in his coat, his dog, which had run on in front, startled two pheasants. He had hardly stepped among the briars when the pheasants began to rise at every step. The old man had not shown him that place the day before, as he meant to keep it for shooting from behind the screen. Allinin fired twelve times and killed five pheasants. But clambering after them through the briars, he got so fatigued that he was drenched with perspiration. He called off his dog, uncocked his gun, put in a bullet above the small shot, and brushing away the mosquitoes with the wide sleeve of his Circassian coat, he went slowly to the spot where they had been the day before. It was, however, impossible to keep back the dog, who found trails on the very path, and Allinin killed two more pheasants, so that after being detained by this, it was getting towards noon, before he began to find the place he was looking for. The day was perfectly clear, calm and hot. The morning moisture had dried up even in the forest, and myriads of mosquitoes literally covered his face, his back, and his arms. His dog had turned from black to gray, its back being covered with mosquitoes, and so had Allinin's coat, through which the insects thrust their stings. Allinin was ready to run away from them, and it seemed to him that it was impossible to live in this country in the summer. He was about to go home, but remembering that other people managed to endure such pain, he resolved to bear it, and gave himself up to be devoured. And strange to say, by noontime the feeling became actually pleasant. He even felt that without this mosquito-filled atmosphere around him, and that mosquito-paste mingled with perspiration, which his hands smeared over his face, and that unceasing irritation all over his body, the forest would lose for him some of its character and charm. These myriads of insects were so well suited to that monstrously lavish wild vegetation, these multitudes of birds and beasts which filled the forest, this dark foliage, this hot scented air, these runlets filled with turbid water which everywhere soaked through from the terec, and gurgled here and there under the overhanging leaves, that the very thing which had at first seemed to him dreadful and intolerable now seemed pleasant. After going round the place where yesterday they had found the animal, and not finding anything, he felt inclined to rest. The sun stood right above the forest, and poured its perpendicular rays down on his back and head, whenever he came out, into a glade or onto the road. The seven heavy pheasants dragged painfully at his waist. Having found the traces of yesterday's stag, he crept under a bush into the thicket, just where the stag had lain, and lay down in its lair. He examined the dark foliage around him, the place marked by the stag's perspiration and yesterday's dung, the imprint of the stag's knees, the bit of black earth it had kicked up, and his own footprints of the day before. He felt cool and comfortable, and did not think of or wish for anything, and suddenly he was overcome by such a strange feeling of causeless joy, and of love for everything, that from an old habit of his childhood he began crossing himself and thanking someone. Suddenly, with extraordinary clearness, he thought, Here am I, Dimitri Alenen, a being quite distinct from every other being, now lying all alone, heaven only knows where, where a stag used to live, an old stag, a beautiful stag, who perhaps had never seen a man, and in a place where no human being has ever sat or thought these thoughts. Here I sit, and around me stand old and young trees, one of them festooned with wild grapevines, and pheasants are fluttering, driving one another about, and perhaps senting their murdered brothers. He felt his pheasants, examine them, and wiped the warm blood off his hand onto his coat. Perhaps the jackals sent them, and with dissatisfied faces go off in another direction, above me, flying in among the leaves, which to them seem enormous islands, mosquitoes hang in the air and buzz, one, two, three, four, a hundred, a thousand, a million mosquitoes, and all of them buzz something or other, and each one of them is separate from all else, and is just such a separate Dimitri Alenen, as I am myself. He vividly imagined what the mosquitoes buzzed, this way, this way lads, here's someone we can eat. They buzzed and stuck to him, and it was clear to him that he was not a Russian nobleman, a member of Moscow society, the friend and relation of so-and-so and so-and-so, but just such a mosquito, or pheasant, or deer, as those that were now living all around him. Just as they, just as Daddy Orozhka, I shall live a while and die, and as he says truly, grass will grow and nothing more. But what, though the grass does grow, he continued thinking, still I must live and be happy, because happiness is all I desire. Never mind what I am, an animal like all the rest, above whom the grass will grow and nothing more, or a frame in which a bit of the one God has been set, still I must live in the very best way. How then must I live to be happy? And why was I not happy before? And he began to recall his former life, and he felt disgusted with himself. He appeared to himself to have been terribly exacting and selfish, though he now saw that all the while he really needed nothing for himself. And he looked round at the foliage, with the light shining through it, at the setting sun and the clear sky, and he felt just as happy as before. Why am I happy? And what used I to live for? thought he. How much I exacted for myself. How I schemed, and did not manage to gain anything, but shame and sorrow. And there now, I require nothing to be happy. And suddenly a new light seemed to reveal itself to him. Happiness is this, he said to himself. Happiness lies in living for others. That is evident. The desire for happiness is innate in every man, therefore it is legitimate. When trying to satisfy itselfishly, that is by seeking for oneself, riches, fame, comforts, or love, it may happen that circumstances arise which make it impossible to satisfy these desires. It follows that it is these desires that are illegitimate, but not the need for happiness. But what desires can always be satisfied despite external circumstances? What are they? Love, self-sacrifice. He was so glad and excited when he had discovered this, as it seemed to him, new truth, that he jumped up and began impatiently seeking someone to sacrifice himself for, to do good to, and to love. Since one wants nothing for oneself, he kept thinking, why not live for others? He took up his gun with the intention of returning home quickly to think this out and to find an opportunity of doing good. He made his way out of the thicket. When he had come out into the glade, he looked around him. The sun was no longer visible above the treetops. It had grown cooler, and the place seemed to him quite strange and not like the country round the village. Everything seemed changed, the weather and the character of the forest, the sky was wrapped in clouds, the wind was rustling in the treetops, and all around nothing was visible, but reeds and dying broken-down trees. He called to his dog who had run away to follow some animal, and his voice came back as in a desert, and suddenly he was seized with a terrible sense of weirdness. He grew frightened. He remembered the abrecks and the murders he had been told about, and he expected every moment that an abreck would spring from behind every bush, and he would have to defend his life and die or be a coward. He thought of God and of the future life as for long he had not thought about them, and all around was that same gloomy stern, wild nature, and is it worth while living for oneself, thought he, when at any moment you may die and die without having done any good, and so that no one will know of it. He went in the direction where he fancied the village lay. Of his shooting he had no further thought, but he felt tired to death, and peered round at every bush and tree with particular attention, and almost with terror expecting every moment to be called to account for his life. After having wandered about for a considerable time, he came upon a ditch, down which was flowing cold sandy water from the terec, and, not to go astray any longer, he decided to follow it. He went on without knowing where the ditch would lead him. Suddenly the reeds behind him crackled. He shuddered and seized his gun, and then felt ashamed of himself. The over-excited dog, panting hard, had thrown itself into the cold water of the ditch and was lapping it. He too had a drink, and then followed the dog in the direction it wished to go, thinking it would lead him to the village. But despite the dog's company, everything around him seemed still more dreary. The forest grew darker, and the wind grew stronger and stronger in the tops of the broken old trees. Some large birds circled, screeching round their nests in those trees. The vegetation grew poorer, and he came oftener and oftener upon rustling reeds and bare sandy spaces covered with animal footprints. To the howling of the wind was added another kind of cheerless monotonous roar. Altogether his spirits became gloomy. Putting his hand behind him, he felt his pheasants, and found one missing. It had broken off and was lost, and only the bleeding head and beak remained sticking in his belt. He felt more frightened than he had ever done before. He began to pray to God, and feared above all that he might die without having done anything good or kind, and he so wanted to live, and to live so as to perform a feat of self-sacrifice. CHAPTER XXI Suddenly it was as though the sun had shone into his soul. He heard Russian being spoken, and also heard the rapid smooth flow of the tereq, and a few steps farther in front of him saw the brown moving surface of the river, with the dim-colored wet sand of its banks and shallows. The distant steppe, the cordon watchtower outlined above the water, a saddled and hobbled horse among the brambles, and then the mountains opening out before him. The red sun appeared for an instant from under a cloud, and its last rays glittered brightly along the river, over the reeds, on the watchtower, and on a group of Cossacks, among whom Lukashka's vigorous figure attracted Alenin's involuntary attention. Alenin felt that he was again, without any apparent cause, perfectly happy. He had come upon the Nizhny Pratotsk Post on the tereq, opposite to pro-Russian Tartar village on the other side of the river. He accosted the Cossacks, but not finding as yet any excuse for doing anyone a kindness, he entered the hut. Nor in the hut did he find any such opportunity. The Cossacks received him coldly. On entering the mud hut, he lit a cigarette. The Cossacks paid little attention to him, first because he was smoking a cigarette, and secondly because they had something else to divert them that evening. Some hostile Chechens, relatives of the Abrek who had been killed, had come from the hills with a scout to ransom the body, and the Cossacks were waiting for their commanding officer's arrival from the village. The dead man's brother, tall and well-shaped with a short-cropped beard which was dyed red, despite his very tattered coat and cap, was calm and majestic as a king. His face was very like that of the dead Abrek. He did not deign to look at anyone, and never once glanced at the dead body, but sitting on his heels in the shade, he spat as he smoked his short pipe, and occasionally uttered some few guttural sounds of command, which were respectfully listened to by his companion. He was evidently a brave who had met Russians more than once before in quite other circumstances, and nothing about them could astonish or even interest him. Alenin was about to approach the dead body, and had begun to look at it when the brother, looking up at him from under his brows with calm contempt, said something sharply and angrily. The scout hastened to cover the dead man's face with his coat. Alenin was struck by the dignified and stern expression of the brave's face. He began to speak to him, asking from what village he came, but the Chechen, scarcely giving him a glance, spat contemptuously and turned away. Alenin was so surprised that the Chechen not being interested in him that he could only put it down to the man's stupidity or ignorance of Russian, so he turned to the scout, who also acted as interpreter. The scout was as ragged as the other, but instead of being red-haired, he was black-haired, restless with extremely white gleaming teeth and sparkling black eyes. The scout willingly entered into conversation and asked for a cigarette. There were five brothers. Began the scout and his broken Russian. This is the third brother the Russians have killed. Only two are left. He is a brave, a great brave, he said, pointing to the Chechen. When they killed Ahmet Khan, the dead brave, this one was sitting on the opposite bank among the Reeds. He saw it all. Saw him laid in the skiff and brought to the bank. He sat there till the night and wished to kill the old man, but the others would not let him. Lukashka went up to the speaker and sat down. Of what village? asked he. From there in the hills, replied the scout, pointing to the misty bluish gorge beyond the Terek. Do you know Sukhsu? It is about eight miles beyond that. Do you know Girikhan in Sukhsu? asked Lukashka, evidently proud of the acquaintance. He is my Kunak. He is my neighbor, answered the scout. He is a Trump. And Lukashka, evidently much interested, began talking to the scout in Tartar. Presently a Kossak captain, with the head of the village, arrived on horseback with a suite of two Kossaks. The captain, one of the new type of Kossak officers, wished the Kossaks good health. But no one shouted in reply, Hail, good health to your honor, as is customary in the Russian army. And only a few replied with a bow. Some, and among them Lukashka, rose and stood erect. The corporal replied that all was well at the outposts. All this seemed ridiculous. It was as if these Kossaks were playing at being soldiers. But these formalities soon gave place to ordinary ways of behavior. And the captain, who was a smart Kossak, just like the others, began speaking fluently in Tartar to the interpreter. They filled in some document, gave it to the scout, and received from him some money. Then they approached the body. Which of you is Luk Gavrilov? asked the captain. Lukashka took off his cap and came forward. I have reported your exploit to the commander. I don't know what will come of it. I have recommended you for a cross. You're too young to be made a sergeant. Can you read? I can't. But what a fine fellow to look at, said the captain, again playing the commander. Put on your cap. Which of the Gavrilovs does he come of? The broad, eh? His nephew replied the corporal. I know, I know. Well, lend a hand. Help them, he said, turning to the Kossaks. Lukashka's face shone with joy, and seemed handsomer than usual. He moved away from the corporal, and having put on his cap, sat down beside a Lienen. When the body had been carried to the skiff, the brother Chechen descended to the bank. The Kossaks involuntarily stepped aside to let him pass. He jumped into the boat, and pushed off from the bank with his powerful leg. And now, as a Lienen noticed, for the first time through a rapid glance at all the Kossaks, and then abruptly asked his companion a question. The latter answered something and pointed to Lukashka. The Chechen looked at him, and, turning slowly away, gazed at the opposite bank. That look expressed not hatred, but cold contempt. He again made some remark. What is he saying, a Lennen asked of the fidgety scout? Yours kill ours, ours slay yours. It's always the same, replied the scout, evidently inventing, and he smiled, showing his white teeth as he jumped into the skiff. The dead man's brother sat motionless, gazing at the opposite bank. He was so full of hatred and contempt, that there was nothing on this side of the river that moved his curiosity. The scout, standing up at one end of the skiff, and dipping his paddle now on one side, now on the other, steered skillfully, while talking incessantly. The skiff became smaller and smaller, as it moved obliquely across the stream. The voices became scarcely audible, and at last, still within sight, they landed on the opposite bank, where their horses stood waiting. There they lifted out the corpse and, though the horse shied, laid it across one of the saddles, mounted, and rode at a foot pace along the road, past a tartar village from which a crowd came out to look at them. The Cossacks on the Russian side of the river were highly satisfied and jovial. Laughter and jokes were heard on all sides. The captain and the head of the village entered the mud hut, to regal themselves. Lukashka, vainly striving to impart a sedate expression to his merry face, sat down with his elbows on his knees beside a linen, and whittled away at a stick. Why do you smoke? he said with assumed curiosity. Is it good? he evidently spoke, because he noticed a linen felt ill at ease and isolated among the Cossacks. It's just a habit, answered a linen. Why? Hmm, if one of us were to smoke, there would be a row. Look there now. The mountains are not far off, continued Lukashka. Yet you can't get there. How will you get back alone? It's getting dark. I'll take you, if you like. You asked the corporal to give me leave. What a fine fellow, Thato-Lenin, looking at the Cossacks' bright face. He remembered Marianca and the kiss he had heard by the gate, and he was sorry for Lukashka and his want of culture. What confusion it is, he thought. A man kills another, and is happy and satisfied with himself, as if he had done something excellent. Can it be that nothing tells him that it is not a reason for any rejoicing, and that happiness lies not in killing, but in sacrificing oneself? Well, you had better not meet him again now, mate, said one of the Cossacks, who had seen the skiff off, addressing Lukashka. Did you hear him asking about you? Lukashka raised his head. My godson, said Lukashka, meaning by that word the dead Chechen, your godson won't rise, but the red one is the godson's brother. Let him thank God that he got off whole himself, replied Lukashka. What are you glad about? asked Alenin. Supposing your brother had been killed, would you be glad? The Cossack looked at Alenin with laughing eyes. He seemed to have understood all that Alenin wished to say to him, but to be above such considerations. Well, that happens too. Don't our fellows get killed sometimes? The captain and the head of the village rode away, and Alenin, to please Lukashka, as well as to avoid going back alone through the dark forest, asked the corporal to give Lukashka leave, and the corporal did so. Alenin thought that Lukashka wanted to see Marianka, and he was also glad of the companionship of such a pleasant-looking and sociable Cossack. Lukashka and Marianka, he involuntarily united in his mind, and he found pleasure in thinking about them. He loves Marianka, thought Alenin, and I could love her, and a new and powerful emotion of tenderness overcame him, as they walked homewards together through the dark forest. Lukashka too felt happy, something akin to love made itself felt between these two very different young men. Every time they glanced at one another, they wanted to laugh. By which gate do you enter, asked Alenin? By the middle one. But I'll see you as far as the marsh. After that you have nothing to fear. Alenin laughed. Do you think I'm afraid? Go back and thank you. I can get on alone. It's all right. What have I to do? And how can you help being afraid? Even we are afraid, said Lukashka, to set Alenin's self-esteem at rest, and he laughed too. Then come in with me. We'll have a talk and a drink, and in the morning you can go back. Couldn't I find a place to spend the night? Laughed Lukashka, but the corporal asked me to go back. I heard you singing last night, and also saw you. Everyone, and Luk swayed his head, is it true you're getting married? asked Alenin. Mother wants me to marry, but I have not got a horse yet. Aren't you in the regular service? Oh dear no, I've only just joined, and have not got a horse yet, and don't know how to get one. That's why the marriage does not come off. And what would a horse cost? We were bargaining for one beyond the river the other day, and they would not take sixty rubles for it, though it is a no-guy horse. Will you come and be my drabant? A drabant was a kind of orderly, attached to an officer when campaigning. I'll get it arranged, and we'll give you a horse, said Alenin suddenly. Really now, I have two, and I don't want both. How? Don't want it, Lukashka said, laughing. Why should you make me a present? We'll get on by ourselves, by God's help. No, really, or don't you want to be a drabant, said Alenin? Glad that it had entered his head to give a horse to Lukashka. Though, without knowing why, he felt uncomfortable and confused, and did not know what to say when he tried to speak. Lukashka was the first to break the silence. Have you a house of your own in Russia? He asked. Alenin could not refrain from replying, that he had not only one, but several houses. A good house, bigger than ours, asked Lukashka, good-naturedly. Much bigger. Ten times as big, and three stories high. Replied Alenin. And have you horses, such as ours? I have a hundred horses, worth three or four hundred rubles each. But they are not like yours. They are trotters, you know. But still, I like the horses here best. Well, and did you come here of your own free will, or where you sent, said Lukashka, laughing at him? Look, that's where you lost your way, he added. You should have turned to the right. I came by my own wish, replied Alenin. I wanted to see your parts, and to join some expeditions. I would go on an expedition any day, said Lukashka. Do you hear the jackals howling, he added, listening? I say, don't you feel any horror at having killed a man, asked Alenin? What's there to be frightened about? But I should like to join an expedition, Lukashka repeated. How I want to, how I want to. Perhaps we may be going together. Our company is going before the holidays, and you are hundred, too. And what did you want to come here for? You have a house, and horses, and serfs. In your place I do nothing but make merry. And what is your rank? I am a cadet, but have been recommended for a commission. Well, if you're not bragging about your home, if I were you, I'd never have left it. Yes, I'd never have gone away anywhere. Do you find it pleasant living among us? Yes, very pleasant, answered Alenin. It had grown quite dark before, talking in this way. They approached the village. They were still surrounded by the deep gloom of the forest. The wind howled through the treetops. The jackals suddenly seemed to be crying, close beside them, howling, chuckling, and sobbing. But ahead of them, in the village, the sounds of women's voices and the barking of dogs could already be heard. The outlines of the huts were clearly to be seen. Lights gleamed, and the air was filled with the peculiar smell of kisiak smoke. Alenin felt keenly, that night especially, that here in this village was his home, his family, all his happiness, and that he never had, and never would, live so happily anywhere as he did in his Kossak village. He was so fond of everybody, and especially of Lukashka that night. On reaching home to Lukashka's great surprise, Alenin with his own hands, led out of the shed a horse he had bought in Groznoe. It was not the one he usually rode, but another. Not a bad horse, though no longer young, and gave it to Lukashka. Why should you give me a present? said Lukashka. I have not yet done anything for you. Really, it is nothing, answered Alenin. Take it, and you will give me a present, and we'll go on an expedition against the enemy together. Lukashka became confused. But what do you mean by it? As if a horse were of little value, he said, without looking at the horse. Take it, take it. If you don't, you will offend me. Vanjusha, take the grey horse to his house. Lukashka took hold of the halter. Oh, then, thank you. This is something unexpected, undreamt of. Alenin was as happy as a boy of twelve. Tie it up here. It's a good horse. I bought it in Groznoe. It gallops splendidly. Vanjusha, bring us some chikir. Come into the hut. The wine was brought. Lukashka sat down and took the wine bowl. God willing, I'll find a way to repay you, he said, finishing his wine. How are you called? The Mitri Andreevich. Well, Mitri Andreevich, God bless you. We will be Kunaks. Now you must come to see us. Though we are not rich people, still we can treat a Kunak. And I will tell mother, in case you need anything. Clotted cream or grapes. And if you come to the cordon, I am your servant to go hunting or to go across the river. Anywhere you like. There now. Only the other day. What a bore I killed. And I divided it among the Kossaks. But if I had only known, I'd have given it to you. That's all right. Thank you. But don't harness the horse. It has never been in harness. Why harness the horse? And there is something else I'll tell you, if you like. So Lukashka, bending his head, I have a Kunak, Girekhan. He asked me to lie in ambush by the road where they come down from the mountains. Shall we go together? I'll not betray you. I'll be your marid. Yes, we'll go. We'll go someday. Lukashka seemed quite to have quieted down, and to have understood Alenin's attitude towards him. His calmness and the ease of his behavior surprised Alenin, and he did not even quite like it. They talked long, and it was late when Lukashka, not tipsy, he never was tipsy, but having drunk a good deal, left Alenin after shaking hands. Alenin looked out of the window to see what he would do. Lukashka went out, hanging his head. Then, having led the horse out of the gate, he suddenly shook his head, threw the reins of the halter over its head, spraying onto its back like a cat, gave a wild shout, and galloped down the street. Alenin expected that Lukashka would go to share his joy with Marianka. But though he did not do so, Alenin still felt his soul more at ease than ever before in his life. He was as delighted as a boy, and could not refrain from telling Vanusia not only that he had given Lukashka the horse, but also why he had done it, as well as his new theory of happiness. Vanusia did not approve of his theory, and announced that, l'argent in n'y a pas, and that, therefore, it was all nonsense. Lukashka rode home, jumped off the horse, and handed it over to his mother, telling her to let it out with the communal Cossack herd. He himself had to return to the cordon that same night. His deaf sister undertook to take the horse, and explained by signs that when she saw the man who had given the horse, she would bow down at his feet. The old woman only shook her head at her son's story, and decided in her own mind that he had stolen it. She, therefore, told the deaf girl to take it to the herd before daybreak. Lukashka went back alone to the cordon, pondering over Alenin's action. Though he did not consider the horse a good one, yet it was worth at least forty rubles, and Lukashka was very glad to have the present. But why it had been given him, he could not at all understand, and, therefore, he did not experience the least feeling of gratitude. On the contrary, vague suspicions that the cadet had some evil intentions filled his mind. What those intentions were, he could not decide. But neither could he admit the idea that a stranger would give him a horse worth forty rubles for nothing, just out of kindness. It seemed impossible. Had he been drunk, one might understand it. He might have wished to show off, but the cadet had been sober, and, therefore, he must have wished to bribe him to do something wrong. Haven't I got the horse? And we'll see later on. I'm not a fool myself, and we shall see who'll get the better of the other, he thought, feeling the necessity of being on his guard, and, therefore, arousing in himself unfriendly feelings towards Alenin. He told no one how he had got the horse. To some he said he had bought it, to others he replied evasively. However, the truth soon got about in the village, and Lukashka's mother and Marianca, as well as Elias Vasilych and other Cossacks, when they heard of Alenin's unnecessary gift, were perplexed, and began to be on their guard against the cadet. But despite their fears, his action aroused in them a great respect for his simplicity and wealth. Have you heard, said one, that the cadet, quartered on Elias Vasilych, has thrown a fifty-ruble horse at Lukashka? He's rich! Yes, I heard of it, replied another profoundly. He must have done him some great service. We shall see what will come of this cadet. Eh, what luck that snatcher has! Those cadets are crafty! Awfully crafty! said a third. See if he don't go setting fire to a building, or doing something. End of Chapter 22 Chapter 23 of the Cossacks This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Recording by J. Badal The Cossacks by Leo Tolstoy Translated by Louise and Elmer Maud Chapter 23 A Lenin's life went on with monotonous regularity. He had little intercourse with the commanding officers, or with his equals. The position of a rich cadet in the Caucasus was peculiarly advantageous in this respect. He was not sent out to work, or for training. As a reward for going on an expedition, he was recommended for a commission, and meanwhile he was left in peace. The officers regarded him as an aristocrat, and behaved towards him with dignity. Card playing, and the officers' carousels, accompanied by the soldier singers, of which he had had experience when he was with the detachment, did not seem to him attractive, and he also avoided the society and life of the officers in the village. The life of officers stationed in a Cossack village has long had its own definite form. Just as every cadet or officer, when in a fort, regularly drinks porter, plays cards, and discusses the rewards given for taking part in the expeditions, so in the Cossack villages, he regularly drinks chikir with his hosts, treats the girls to sweet meats and honey, dangles after the Cossack woman, and falls in love, and occasionally marries there. A Lenin always took his own path, and had an unconscious objection to the beaten tracks, and here, too, he did not follow the ruts of a Caucasian officer's life. It came quite naturally to him to wake up at daybreak. After drinking tea and admiring from his porch the mountains, the morning, and Marianca, he would put on a tattered oxide coat, sandals of soaked rawhide, buckle on a dagger, take a gun, put cigarettes and some lunch into a little bag, call his dog, and soon after five o'clock, would start for the forest beyond the village. Toward seven in the evening, he would return, tired and hungry, with five or six pheasants hanging from his belt, sometimes with some other animal, and with his bag of food and cigarettes untouched. If the thoughts in his head had lain, like the lunch and cigarettes in the bag, one might have seen that during all those fourteen hours, not a single thought had moved in it. He returned morally fresh, strong, and perfectly happy, and he could not tell what he had been thinking about all the time. Were they ideas, memories, or dreams, that had been flitting through his mind? They were frequently all three. He would rouse himself and ask what he had been thinking about, and would see himself as a Cossack working in a vineyard with his Cossack wife, or an abreck in the mountains, or a boar running away from himself, and all the time he kept peering and watching for a pheasant, a boar, or a deer. In the evening, Daddy Rochka would be sure to be sitting with him. Van Yuscha would bring a jug of chikir, and they would converse quietly, drink, and separate to go quite contentedly to bed. The next day he would again go shooting, again be healthily weary, again they would sit conversing and drink their fill, and again be happy. Sometimes, on a holiday or day of rest, Allenen spent the whole day at home. Then his chief occupation was watching Marianca, whose every movement, without realizing it himself, he followed greedily from his window or his porch. He regarded Marianca and loved her, so he thought, just as he loved the beauty of the mountains and the sky, and he had no thought of entering into any relations with her. It seemed to him that between him and her, such relations as there were between her and the Cossack Lukashka, could not exist, and still less such as often existed between rich officers and other Cossack girls. It seemed to him that if he tried to do, as his fellow officers did, he would exchange his complete enjoyment of contemplation, for an abyss of suffering, disillusionment, and remorse. Besides, he had already achieved a triumph of self-sacrifice in connection with her, which had given him great pleasure, and above all he was in a way afraid of Marianca, and would not for anything have ventured to utter a word of love to her lightly. Once, during the summer, when Allenen had not gone out shooting, but was sitting at home, quite unexpectedly a Moscow acquaintance, a very young man whom he had met in society, came in. Ah, Mon Cher, my dear fellow! How glad I was when I heard that you were here! He began in his Moscow French, and he went on intermingling French words in his remarks. They said, Allenen! What Allenen? And I was so pleased! Fancy fate bringing us together here! Well, and how are you? How? Why? And Prince Bolecky told his whole story, how he had temporarily entered the regiment, how the commander-in-chief had offered to take him as an agiton, and how he would take up the post after this campaign, although personally he felt quite indifferent about it. Living here in this whole, one must at least make a career, get a cross, or a rank, be transferred to the guards. That is quite indispensable. Not for myself, but for the sake of my relations and friends. The Prince received me very well. He's a very decent fellow, said Bolecky, and went on unceasingly. I have been recommended for the Saint Anacross for the expedition. Now I shall stay here a bit until we start on the campaign. It's capital here. What woman! Well, and how are you getting on? I was told by our captain, Startsiv, you know, a kind-hearted, stupid creature. Well, he said you were living like an awful savage, seeing no one. I quite understand you don't want to be mixed up with the set of officers we have here. I'm so glad now you and I will be able to see something of one another. I've put up at the Cossack Corporal's house. There is such a girl there, Ustinka. I tell you, she's just charming. And more and more, French and Russian words came pouring forth from that world, which a lenin thought he had left forever. The general opinion about Bolecky was that he was a nice, good-natured fellow. Perhaps he really was. But in spite of his pretty, good-natured face, a lenin thought him extremely unpleasant. He seemed just to exhale that filthiness which a lenin had foresworn. What vexed him most was that he could not, had not the strength, abruptly to repulse this man who came from that world, as if that old world he used to belong to had an irresistible claim on him. A lenin felt angry with Bolecky and with himself, yet against his wish he introduced French phrases into his own conversation. He was interested in the commander-in-chief and in their Moscow acquaintances, and because in this Cossack village he and Bolecky both spoke French, he spoke contemptuously of their fellow officers and of the Cossacks, and was friendly with Bolecky, promising to visit him, and inviting him to drop in to see him. A lenin, however, did not himself go to see Bolecky. Vanusche, for his part, approved of a Bolecky, remarking that he was a real gentleman. Bolecky at once adopted the customary life of a rich officer in a Cossack village. Before a lenin's eyes, in one month he came to be like an old resident of the village. He made the old men drunk, arranged evening parties, and himself went to parties arranged by the girls, bragged of his conquests, and even got so far that, for some unknown reason, the women and girls began calling him grandad, and the Cossacks, to whom a man who loved wine and woman was clearly understandable, got used to him, and even liked him better than they did a lenin, who was a puzzle to them. End of