Ilyitch pressed down upon him with all the weight of a mountain of
stone resting upon his breast. Dutlof knew that if he could say a
prayer, IT would leave him; and he knew what kind of a prayer he ought
to say, but this prayer would not form itself on his lips.
His grandson was sleeping next him. The boy uttered a piercing scream,
and began to weep. The grandfather had crowded him against the wall.
The child's cry unsealed the old man's lips. "Let God arise up," he
repeated. IT loosed its hold a little. "And scatter our enemies,"
whispered Dutlof. IT got down from the stove. Dutlof listened as IT
touched both feet to the floor. Dutlof kept repeating all the prayers
that he knew; said them all in order. IT went to the door, passed the
table, and struck the door such a rap that the cottage trembled. Every
one was asleep except the old man and his grandson. The grandfather
repeated the prayers, and trembled all over: the grandson wept as he
fell asleep, and cuddled up to his grandfather.
All became quiet again. The old man lay motionless. The cock crowed
behind the wall at Dutlof's ear. He heard how the hens began to stir
themselves; how the young cockerel endeavored to imitate the old cock,
and did not succeed. Something moved on the old man's legs. It was the
cat. She jumped down on her soft paws from the oven to the ground, and
began to miaw at the door.
The grandfather got up, opened the window. In the street it was dark,
muddy. The corpse stood there under the very window. He went in his
stocking-feet to the yard,[36] crossing himself as he went. And here
it was evident that the _master_[37] was coming. The mare, standing
under the shed by the wall, with her leg caught in the bridle, was
lying in the husks, and raised her head, waiting for the master. The
foal was stretched out on the manure. The old man lifted him on his
legs, freed the mare, gave her some fodder, and went back to the
cottage. The old woman got up, and kindled the fire.
"Wake the boys; I am going to town."
And lighting one of the wax candles that stood before the sacred
images, he took it, and went with it down into the cellar. When he came
up, not only was his own fire burning, but those in the neighboring
cottages were lighted. The children were up, and all ready. Women were
coming and going with pails and tubs of milk. Ignat was harnessing a
telyéga. The other son was oiling another. The niece[38] was not to be
seen, but, dressed in her best, and with a shawl on, was sitting on the
bench in the cottage, and waiting for the time to go to town and say
good-by to her husband.
The old man had an appearance of peculiar sternness. He said not a word
to any one: put on his new kaftan, girdled himself tightly, and with
all of Polikéï's money under his coat, went to the overseer.
"You wait for me," he shouted to Ignat, who was whirling the wheel
round on the raised axle, and oiling it. "I'll be back in a moment. Be
all ready."
The overseer, who was just up, was drinking his tea, and had made his
preparations to go to the city to deliver the recruits over to the
authorities.
"What do you wish?" he asked.
"Yégor Mikháluitch, I want to buy the young fellow off. Be so good. You
told me a day or two ago that you knew a substitute in the city. Tell
me how. I am ignorant."
"What! have you reconsidered it?"
"I have, Yégor Mikháluitch. It's too bad,--my brother's son. Whatever
he did, I'm sorry for him. Much sin comes from it, from this money. So
please tell me," said he, making a low bow.
The overseer, as always in such circumstances, drew in his lips
silently, and went into a brown study; then having made up his mind,
wrote two letters, and told him what and how he must do in town.
When Dutlof reached home, the niece was just coming out with Ignat; and
the gray, pot-bellied mare, completely harnessed, was standing at the
gate. He broke off a switch from the hedge. Wrapping himself up, he
took his seat on the box, and started up the horse.
Dutlof drove the mare so fast that her belly seemed to shrink away, and
he did not dare to look at her lest he should feel compunction. He was
tormented by the thought that he might be late in reaching camp, that
Ilyúkha would have already gone as a soldier, and that the _devilish_
money would still be in his hands.
I am not going to give a detailed description of all Dutlof's
adventures that morning. I will only say that he was remarkably
successful. At the house of the man to whom the overseer gave him
a letter, there was a substitute ready and waiting, who had spent
twenty-three silver rubles of his bounty-money, and had already passed
muster. His master[39] wanted to get for him four hundred rubles; but
another man,[40] who had already been after him for three weeks, was
anxious to beat him down to three hundred.
Dutlof concluded the business with few words. "Will you take three
hundred and twenty-five?" said he, offering his hand, but with an
expression that made it evident that he was ready to give even more.
The master held out his hand, and continued to demand four hundred.
"Won't you take three hundred and twenty-five?" repeated Dutlof,
seizing the master's right hand with his left, and making the motion
to clap it with the other. "You won't take it? Well, God be with you,"
he exclaimed, suddenly striking hands with the master, and, with
the violence of the motion, swinging his whole body round from him.
"Then, make it this way! Take three hundred and fifty. Make out the
_fitanets._[41] Bring the young man. And now for the earnest-money.
Will two ten-ruble pieces do?"
And Dutlof unbuckled his belt, and drew out the money.
Though the master did not withdraw his hand, yet apparently he was not
wholly satisfied, and before accepting the earnest-money, he demanded a
fee, and entertainment money for the substitute.
"Don't commit a sin," said Dutlof, pressing the money upon him. "We
must all die," he went on in such a short, didactic, and confident
voice that the master said, "There's nothing to be done," once more
shook hands, and began to say a prayer. "With God's blessing," he said.
They awoke the substitute, who was still sleeping off his yesterday's
spree; they inspected him, and then all went to the authorities. The
substitute was hilarious, asked to be refreshed with some rum, for
which Dutlof gave him money, and began to feel scared only at the
moment when they first entered the vestibule of the court-house. They
stood long in the vestibule: the old master[42] in a blue overcoat,
and the substitute in a short sheepskin, with lifted eyebrows and
wide-staring eyes; long they stood there whispering together, asked
questions of this man and that, were sent from pillar to post, took off
their hats and bowed before every petty clerk, and solemnly listened to
the speech made by a clerk whom the master knew. All hope of finishing
the business that day was vanishing, and the substitute was already
beginning to feel more cheerful and easy, when Dutlof caught sight of
Yégor Mikhailovitch, immediately went to him, and began to beseech him,
and make low bows. The overseer's influence was so powerful, that by
three o'clock the substitute, much to his disgust and surprise, was
conducted into the audience-chamber, enrolled on the army list, and
to the satisfaction of every one, from door-tender to president, was
stripped, shaved, dressed in uniform, and sent out to camp. And at
the end of five minutes Dutlof had paid the money over, and taken his
receipt; and after saying good-by to the recruit and his master, he
went to the merchant's lodging-house where the recruits from Pokrovskoé
were stopping.
His nephew and the wife were sitting in one corner of the merchant's
kitchen; and when the old man came in, they ceased talking, and behaved
toward him in a humble and yet hostile manner.
"Don't be vexed, Ilyúkha," he said, approaching his nephew. "Day before
yesterday you said a harsh word to me. Am I not sorry for you? I
remember how my brother commended you to my care. If it had been in my
power, would I have let you go? God granted me a piece of good fortune:
you see I have not been mean. Here is this paper," said he, laying the
receipt on the table, and carefully smoothing it out with his crooked,
stiffened fingers.
All of the Prokrovski muzhíks, and the merchant's people, and also some
of the neighbors, came into the inn.[43] All watched inquisitively what
was going on. No one interrupted the old man's triumphal words.
"Here's the paper. I paid nearly four hundred silver rubles for it.
Don't blame your uncle!"
Ilyúkha stood up; but said nothing, not knowing what to say. His lips
trembled with emotion. His old mother came to him sobbing, and wanted
to throw herself on his neck; but the old man slowly and imperiously
pushed her away with his hand, and proceeded to speak:--
"You said a harsh word to me," repeated the old man. "With that word
you stabbed me to the heart, as with a knife. Your dying father
commended you to my care. You have taken the place of my own son; but
if I have done you any harm, I am sorry. We are all sinners. Is that
not so, Orthodox believers?" he asked, turning to the muzhíks standing
around. "Here is your own mother, and your young wife;[44] here is
the _fitanets_ for you. God bless it,--the money. But forgive me, for
Christ's sake!"
And spreading his cloak out on the floor, he slowly got down upon his
knees, and bent low before the feet of Ilyushka and his wife. The young
people tried in vain to raise him: not until he had touched his head to
the ground, did he rise, and shaking himself sit down upon the bench.
Ilyushka's mother and the young wife wept for joy. In the crowd were
heard voices expressing approbation.
"That's right, that's God's way," said one.
"What money? It must have taken a lot."
"What a joy!" said a third. "A righteous man, that's the word for it."
But the muzhíks, who had been named as recruits, said nothing, and went
noiselessly out into the court-yard.
In two hours' time, the two Dutlofs' telyégas drove through the suburbs
of the city. In the first, drawn by the pot-bellied gray mare with
sweaty neck, sat the old man and Ignat. Behind rattled a number of
pretzels and crackers. In the second telyéga, which no one drove,
dignified and happy, sat the young wife and her mother-in-law wrapped
up in shawls. The young woman held a jug under her apron. Ilyúshka,
bending over with his back to the horse, with ruddy face, shaking on
the dasher, was munching a cracker[45] and talking in a steady stream.
And the voices, and the rumble of the wheels on the bridge, and the
occasional snorting of the horses, all united into one merry sound. The
horses, switching their tails, trotted along steadily, feeling that
they were on the home stretch. Those whom they passed and those whom
they met looked upon a happy family.
Just as they were leaving the city the Dutlofs overtook a detachment
of recruits. A group of the soldiers stood in a circle in front of a
drinking-saloon. One recruit, with that peculiarly unnatural expression
which a shorn brow gives a man, with his gray uniform cap pushed on the
back of his head, was skilfully picking on a three-stringed balaláïka;
another, without any thing on his head, and holding a jug of vodka
in one hand, was dancing in the midst of the circle. Ignat halted his
horse, and got out to gather up the reins. All the Dutlofs looked on
with curiosity, satisfaction, and joy, at the man who was dancing.
The recruit did not seem to notice any one, but had the consciousness
that an admiring public was attracted by his antics, and this gave him
strength and ability. He danced dexterously. His forehead was wrinkled,
his ruddy face was motionless, his mouth was parted in a smile which
had long lost all expression. It seemed as though all the energies of
his soul were directed to making one leg follow the other with all
possible swiftness, now on the heel and now on the toe. Sometimes he
would suddenly stop, and signal to the accompanist, who would instantly
begin to thrum on all the strings, and even to rap on the back of
the instrument with his knuckles. The recruit stopped, but even when
he stopped still, he seemed, as it were, to be all the time dancing.
Suddenly he began to slacken his pace, shrugging his shoulders, and,
leaping into the air, landed on his heels, and with a wild shriek set
up the Russian national dance.
The lads laughed, the women shook their heads, the lusty peasants
smiled with satisfaction. An old non-commissioned officer stood calmly
near the dancer with a look that said, "To you this is wonderful, but
to _us_ it's an old story." The balaláïka-player stood up in plain
sight, surveyed the crowd with a cool stare, struck a false chord, and
suddenly rapped his fingers on the back, and the dance was done.
"Hey! Alyókha," cried the accompanist to the dancer, and pointed to
Dutlof. "Isn't that your sponsor?"
"Where? O my dearly beloved friend!" screamed the recruit,--the same
one whom Dutlof had bought,--and stumbling out on his weary feet, and
lifting his jug of vodka above his head, he made for the team. "Mishka!
waiter! a glass," he shouted. "Master! O my dear old friend! How glad
I am! fact!" he went on, jerking his tipsy head towards the telyéga,
and began to treat the muzhíks and the women to vodka. The muzhíks
accepted, the women declined. "You are darlings, why shouldn't I treat
you?" cried the recruit, throwing his arms around the old women.
A woman peddling eatables was standing in the throng. The recruit saw
her, grabbed her tray, and flung its contents into the telyéga.
"D-don't worry, I'll p-pay--the d-deuce," he began to scream in a
drunken voice; and here he drew out of his stocking a purse with money
in it, and flung it to the waiter.
He stood leaning with his elbows on the wagon, and stared, with moist
eyes, at those who sat in it.
"Which is my mátushka?" he asked. "Be you her? I've got something for
her too."
He pondered a moment, and diving into his pocket brought out a new
handkerchief folded, untied another which he had put on as a girdle
under his coat, hastily took the red scarf from his neck, bundled them
together, and thrust them into the old woman's lap.
"Na! I give 'em to you," he said, in a voice that grew weaker and
weaker.
"Why? thank you, friend!--What a simple lad he is!" said she,
addressing the old man Dutlof, who came up to their telyéga.
The recruit was now entirely quiet and dumb, and kept dropping his head
lower and lower, as though he were going to sleep then and there.
"I'm going for you, I'm going to destruction for you," he repeated.
"And so I make you a present."
"I s'pose he's really got a mother," cried some one in the crowd. "Fine
young fellow! Too bad!"
The recruit lifted his head. "I've got a mother," he said. "I've got a
father[46] too. They've all given me up, though. Listen, old woman!" he
added, seizing Ilyushkin's mother by the hand. "I made you a present.
Listen to me, for Christ's sake. Go to my village of Vodnoe, ask there
for Nikonof's old woman,--she's my own mother, you understand,--and
tell this same old woman, Nikonof's old woman--third hut at the
end--new pump--tell her that Alyókha--your son--you know--Come!
musician, strike up!" he screamed.
And once more he began to dance, talking all the time, and spilling the
vodka that was left in the jug all over the ground.
Ignat climbed into his wagon, and started to drive on.
"Good-by, good luck to you," cried the old woman, as she wrapped
herself up in her sheepskin.
The recruit suddenly stopped.
"Go to the devil!" he shouted, threatening the teams with his doubled
fist.
"Oh, good Lord!"[47] ejaculated Ilyushkin's mother, crossing herself.
Ignat started up the mare, and the teams drove away. Alekséi the
recruit still stood in the middle of the road, and doubling up his
fists, with an expression of wrath on his face, berated the mushíks to
the best of his ability.
"What are you standing here for? She's gone. The devil, cannibals!" he
screamed. "You won't escape from me! You devils! You dotards!"
With these words his voice failed him; he fell at full length, just
where he stood in the middle of the road.
Swiftly the Dutlofs drove across the country, and as they looked
around, the crowd of recruits were already lost from sight. When they
had gone five versts, and were slowing up a little, Ignat got out of
his father's wagon, when the old man was drowsing, and got in with his
cousin.
The two young men drank up the jug of vodka which they had brought
from the city. Then after a little, Ilya struck up a song; the women
joined in with him; Ignat gayly shouted in harmony. A jolly party,
in a post-wagon, dashed swiftly by. The driver shouted to the horses
harnessed to the two jolly telyégas. The postilion glanced at the
handsome faces of the muzhíks and the women in the telyéga as they
dashed by, singing their merry songs, and waved his hand.
[Footnote 32: _izbá._]
[Footnote 33: _Ilyushkin's baba._]
[Footnote 34: _Ilyushkina baba._]
[Footnote 35: _stárosta._]
[Footnote 36: _dvor_.]
[Footnote 37: _khozyáïn_.]
[Footnote 38: _molodáïka_.]
[Footnote 39: _khozhyáïn._]
[Footnote 40: a _meshchánin._]
[Footnote 41: Mispronunciation of _quittance._]
[Footnote 42: _starik-khozhyáïn._]
[Footnote 43: _izbá_.]
[Footnote 44: _khozyáïka_.]
[Footnote 45: _kalátch._]
[Footnote 46: _bátiushka._]
[Footnote 47: _okh Gospodi._]