the witch and other stories-第27章

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days；　but　in　reality　everything　has　passed　into　Aksinya's　hands；
she　buys　and　sells；　and　nothing　can　be　done　without　her　consent。
The　brickyard　is　working　well；　and　as　bricks　are　wanted　for　the
railway　the　price　has　gone　up　to　twenty…four　roubles　a　thousand；
peasant　women　and　girls　cart　the　bricks　to　the　station　and　load
them　up　in　the　trucks　and　earn　a　quarter…rouble　a　day　for　the
work。

Aksinya　has　gone　into　partnership　with　the　Hrymin　Juniors；　and
their　factory　is　now　called　Hrymin　Juniors　and　Co。　They　have
opened　a　tavern　near　the　station；　and　now　the　expensive
concertina　is　played　not　at　the　factory　but　at　the　tavern；　and
the　head　of　the　post　office　often　goes　there；　and　he；　too；　is
engaged　in　some　sort　of　traffic；　and　the　stationmaster；　too。
Hrymin　Juniors　have　presented　the　deaf　man　Stepan　with　a　gold
watch；　and　he　is　constantly　taking　it　out　of　his　pocket　and
putting　it　to　his　ear。

People　say　of　Aksinya　that　she　has　become　a　person　of　power；　and
it　is　true　that　when　she　drives　in　the　morning　to　her　brickyard；
handsome　and　happy；　with　the　naive　smile　on　her　face；　and
afterwards　when　she　is　giving　orders　there；　one　is　aware　of　great
power　in　her。　Everyone　is　afraid　of　her　in　the　house　and　in　the
village　and　in　the　brickyard。　When　she　goes　to　the　post　the　head
of　the　postal　department　jumps　up　and　says　to　her：

〃I　humbly　beg　you　to　be　seated；　Aksinya　Abramovna！〃

A　certain　landowner；　middle…aged　but　foppish；　in　a　tunic　of　fine
cloth　and　patent　leather　high　boots；　sold　her　a　horse；　and　was　so
carried　away　by　talking　to　her　that　he　knocked　down　the　price　to
meet　her　wishes。　He　held　her　hand　a　long　time　and；　looking　into
her　merry；　sly；　naive　eyes；　said：

〃For　a　woman　like　you；　Aksinya　Abramovna；　I　should　be　ready　to　do
anything　you　please。　Only　say　when　we　can　meet　where　no　one　will
interfere　with　us？〃

〃Why；　when　you　please。〃

And　since　then　the　elderly　fop　drives　up　to　the　shop　almost　every
day　to　drink　beer。　And　the　beer　is　horrid；　bitter　as　wormwood。
The　landowner　shakes　his　head；　but　he　drinks　it。

Old　Tsybukin　does　not　have　anything　to　do　with　the　business　now
at　all。　He　does　not　keep　any　money　because　he　cannot　distinguish
between　the　good　and　the　false；　but　he　is　silent；　he　says　nothing
of　this　weakness。　He　has　become　forgetful；　and　if　they　don't　give
him　food　he　does　not　ask　for　it。　They　have　grown　used　to　having
dinner　without　him；　and　Varvara　often　says：

〃He　went　to　bed　again　yesterday　without　any　supper。〃

And　she　says　it　unconcernedly　because　she　is　used　to　it。　For　some
reason；　summer　and　winter　alike；　he　wears　a　fur　coat；　and　only　in
very　hot　weather　he　does　not　go　out　but　sits　at　home。　As　a　rule
putting　on　his　fur　coat；　wrapping　it　round　him　and　turning　up　his
collar；　he　walks　about　the　village；　along　the　road　to　the
station；　or　sits　from　morning　till　night　on　the　seat　near　the
church　gates。　He　sits　there　without　stirring。　Passers…by　bow　to
him；　but　he　does　not　respond；　for　as　of　old　he　dislikes　the
peasants。　If　he　is　asked　a　question　he　answers　quite　rationally
and　politely；　but　briefly。

There　is　a　rumour　going　about　in　the　village　that　his
daughter…in…law　turns　him　out　of　the　house　and　gives　him　nothing
to　eat；　and　that　he　is　fed　by　charity；　some　are　glad；　others　are
sorry　for　him。

Varvara　has　grown　even　fatter　and　whiter；　and　as　before　she　is
active　in　good　works；　and　Aksinya　does　not　interfere　with　her。

There　is　so　much　jam　now　that　they　have　not　time　to　eat　it　before
the　fresh　fruit　comes　in；　it　goes　sugary；　and　Varvara　almost
sheds　tears；　not　knowing　what　to　do　with　it。

They　have　begun　to　forget　about　Anisim。　A　letter　has　come　from
him　written　in　verse　on　a　big　sheet　of　paper　as　though　it　were　a
petition；　all　in　the　same　splendid　handwriting。　Evidently　his
friend　Samorodov　was　sharing　his　punishment。　Under　the　verses　in
an　ugly；　scarcely　legible　handwriting　there　was　a　single　line：　〃I
am　ill　here　all　the　time；　I　am　wretched；　for　Christ's　sake　help
me！〃

Towards　evening　　it　was　a　fine　autumn　day　　old　Tsybukin　was
sitting　near　the　church　gates；　with　the　collar　of　his　fur　coat
turned　up　and　nothing　of　him　could　be　seen　but　his　nose　and　the
peak　of　his　cap。　At　the　other　end　of　the　long　seat　was　sitting
Elizarov　the　contractor；　and　beside　him　Yakov　the　school
watchman；　a　toothless　old　man　of　seventy。　Crutch　and　the　watchman
were　talking。

〃Children　ought　to　give　food　and　drink　to　the　old。　。　。　。　Honour
thy　father　and　mother　。　。　。〃　Yakov　was　saying　with　irritation；
〃while　she；　this　daughter…in…law；　has　turned　her　father…in…law
out　of　his　own　house；　the　old　man　has　neither　food　nor　drink；
where　is　he　to　go？　He　has　not　had　a　morsel　for　these　three　days。〃

〃Three　days！〃　said　Crutch；　amazed。

〃Here　he　sits　and　does　not　say　a　word。　He　has　grown　feeble。　And
why　be　silent？　He　ought　to　prosecute　her；　they　wouldn't　flatter
her　in　the　police　court。〃

〃Wouldn't　flatter　whom？〃　asked　Crutch；　not　hearing。

〃What？〃

〃The　woman's　all　right；　she　does　her　best。　In　their　line　of
business　they　can't　get　on　without　that　。　。　。　without　sin；　I
mean。　。　。　。〃

〃From　his　own　house；〃　Yakov　went　on　with　irritation。　〃Save　up　and
buy　your　own　house；　then　turn　people　out　of　it！　She　is　a　nice
one；　to　be　sure！　A　pla…ague！〃

Tsybukin　listened　and　did　not　stir。

〃Whether　it　is　your　own　house　or　others'　it　makes　no　difference
so　long　as　it　is　warm　and　the　women　don't　scold　。　。　。〃　said
Crutch；　and　he　laughed。　〃When　I　was　young　I　was　very　fond　of　my
Nastasya。　She　was　a　quiet　woman。　And　she　used　to　be　always　at　it：
'Buy　a　house；　Makaritch！　Buy　a　house；　Makaritch！　Buy　a　house；
Makaritch！'　She　was　dying　and　yet　she　kept　on　saying；　'Buy
yourself　a　racing　droshky；　Makaritch；　that　you　may　not　have　to
walk。'　And　I　bought　her　nothing　but　gingerbread。〃

〃Her　husband's　deaf　and　stupid；〃　Yakov　went　on；　not　hearing
Crutch；　〃a　regular　fool；　just　like　a　goose。　He　can't　understand
anything。　Hit　a　goose　on　the　head　with　a　stick　and　even　then　it
does　not　understand。〃

Crutch　got　up　to　go　home　to　the　factory。　Yakov　also　got　up；　and
both　of　them　went　off　together；　still　talking。　When　they　had　gone
fifty　paces　old　Tsybukin　got　up；　too；　and　walked　after　them；
stepping　uncertainly　as　though　on　slippery　ice。

The　village　was　already　plunged　in　the　dusk　of　evening　and　the
sun　only　gleamed　on　the　upper　part　of　the　road　which　ran
wriggling　like　a　snake　up　the　slope。　Old　women　were　coming　back
from　the　woods　and　children　with　them；　they　were　bringing　baskets
of　mushrooms。　Peasant　women　and　girls　came　in　a　crowd　from　the
station　where　they　had　been　loading　the　trucks　with　bricks；　and
their　noses　and　their　cheeks　under　their　eyes　were　covered　with
red　brick…dust。　They　were　singing。　Ahead　of　them　all　was　Lipa
singing　in　a　high　voice；　with　her　eyes　turned　upwards　to　the　sky；
breaking　into　trills　as　though　triumphant　and　ecstatic　that　at
last　the　day　was　over　and　she　could　rest。　In　the　crowd　was　her
mother　Praskovya；　who　was　walking　with　a　bundle　in　her　arms　and
breathless　as　usual。

〃Good…evening；　Makaritch！　〃　cried　Lipa；　seeing　Crutch。
〃Good…evening；　darling！〃

〃Good…evening；　Lipinka；〃　cried　Crutch　delighted。　〃Dear　girls　and
women；　love　the　rich　carpenter！　Ho…ho！　My　little　children；　my
little　children。　（Crutch　gave　a　gulp。）　My　dear　little　axes！〃

Crutch　and　Yakov　went　on　further　and　could　still　be　heard
talking。　Then　after　them　the　crowd　was　met　by　old　Tsybukin　and
there　was　a　sudden　hush。　Lipa　and　Praskovya　had　dropped　a　little
behind；　and　when　the　old　man　was　on　a　level　with　them　Lipa　bowed
down　low　and　said：

〃Good…evening；　Grigory　Petrovitch。〃

Her　mother；　too；　bowed　down。　The　old　man　stopped　and；　saying
nothing；　looked　at　the　two　in　silence；　his　lips　were　quivering
and　his　eyes　full　of　tears。　Lipa　took　out　of　her　mother's　bundle
a　piece　of　savoury　turnover　and　gave　it　him。　He　took　it　and　began
eating。

The　sun　had　by　now　set：　its　glow　died　away　on　the　road　above。　It
grew　dark　and　cool。　Lipa　and　Praskovya　walked　on　and　for　some
time　they　kept　crossing　themselves。


THE　HUNTSMAN

A　SULTRY；　stifling　midday。　Not　a　cloudlet　in　the　sky。　。　。　。　The
sun…baked　grass　had　a　disconsolate；　hopeless　look：　even　if　there
were　rain　it　could　never　be　green　again。　。　。　。　The　forest　stood
silent；　motionless；　as　though　it　were　looking　at　something　with
its　tree…tops　or　expecting　something。

At　the　edge　of　the　clearing　a　tall；　narrow…shouldered　man　of
forty　in　a　red　shirt；　in　patched　trousers　that　had　been　a
gentleman's；　and　in　high　boots；　was　slouching　along　with　a　lazy；
shambling　step。　He　was　sauntering　along　the　road。　On　the　right
was　the　green　of　the　clearing；　on　the　left　a　golden　sea　of　ripe
rye　stretched　to　the　very　horizon。　He　was　red　and　perspiring；　a
white　cap　with　a　straight　jockey　peak；　evidently　a　gift　from　some
open…handed　young　gentleman；　perched　jauntily　on　his　handsome
flaxen　head。　Across　his　shoulder　hung　a　game…bag　with　a　blackcock
lying　in　it。　The　man　held　a　double…barrelled　gun　cocked　in　his
hand；　and　screwed　up　his　eyes　in　the　direction　of　his　lean　old
dog　who　was　running　on　ahead　sniffing　the　bushes。　There　was
stillness　all　round；　not　a　sound　。　。　。　everything　living　was
hiding　away　from　the　heat。

〃Yegor　Vlassitch！〃　the　huntsman　suddenly　heard　a　soft　voice。

He　started　and；　looking　round；　scowled。　Beside　him；　as　though　she
had　sprung　out　of　the　earth；　stood　a　pale…faced　woman　of　thirty
with　a　sickle　in　her　hand。　She　was　trying　to　look　into　his　face；
and　was　smiling　diffidently。

〃Oh；　it　is　you；　Pelagea！〃　said　the　huntsman；　stopping　and
deliberately　uncocking　the　gun。　〃H'm！　。　。　。　How　have　you　come
here？〃

〃The　women　from　our　village　are　working　here；　so　I　have　come　with
them。　。　。　。　As　a　labourer；　Yegor　Vlassitch。〃

〃Oh　。　。　。〃　growled　Yegor　Vlassitch；　and　slowly　walked　on。

Pelagea　followed　him。　They　walked　in　silence　for　twenty　paces。

〃I　have　not　seen　you　for　a　long　time；　Yegor　Vlassitch　。　。　。〃　said
Pelagea　looking　tenderly　at　the　huntsman's　moving　shoulders。　〃I
have　not　seen　you　since　you　came　into　our　hut　at　Easter　for　a
drink　of　water　。　。　。　you　came　in　at　Easter　for　a　minute　and　then
God　knows　how　。　。　。　drunk　。　。　。　you　scolded　and　beat　me　and　went
away　。　。　。　I　have　been　waiting　and　waiting　。　。　。　I've　tired　my
eyes　out　looking　for　you。　Ah；　Yegor　Vlassitch；　Yegor　Vlassitch！
you　might　look　in　just　once！〃

〃What　is　there　for　me　to　do　there？〃

〃Of　course　there　is　nothing　for　you　to　do　。　。　。　though　to　be　sure
。　。　。　there　is　the　place　to　look　after。　。　。　。　To　see　how　things
are　going。　。　。　。　You　are　the　master。　。　。　。　I　say；　you　have　shot　a
blackcock；　Yegor　Vlassitch！　You　ought　to　sit　down　and　rest！〃

As　she　said　all　this　Pelagea　laughed　like　a　silly　girl　and　looked
up　at　Yegor's　face。　Her　face　was　simply　radiant　with　happiness。

〃Sit　down？　If　you　like　。　。　。〃　said　Yegor　in　a　tone　of
indifference；　and　he　chose　a　spot　between　two　fir…trees。　〃Why　are
you　standing？　You　sit　down　too。〃

Pelagea　sat　a　little　way　off　in　the　sun　and；　ashamed　of　her　joy；
put　her　hand　over　her　smiling　mouth。　Two　minutes　passed　in
silence。

〃You　might　come　for　once；〃　said　Pelagea。

〃What　for？〃　sighed　Yegor；　taking　off　his　cap　and　wiping　his　red
forehead　with　his　hand。　〃There　is　no