Early that morning, soon after sunrise, Ivanoff and Sanine walked forth
from the town. The dew sparkled in the sunlight, and the damp grass
seen in shadow appeared grey. Along the side of the road flanked by
gnarled willows, pilgrims were slowly wending their way to the
monastery. The red and white kerchiefs covering their heads and their
bright-hued coats and shirts gave colour and picturesqueness to the
scene. The monastery bells rang out in the cool morning air, and the
sound floated across the steppe, away to the dreaming woods in the dim
blue distance. A _troika_ came jingling along the highroad, and the
rough voices of the pilgrims as they talked could be distinctly heard.
“We’ve come out a little too early,” said Ivanoff.
Sanine looked round about him, contented and happy.
“Well, let us wait a while,” he replied.
They sat down on the sand, close to the hedge, and lit their
cigarettes.
Peasants walking along behind their carts turned to look at them, and
market-women and girls as they rattled past in rickety traps pointed at
the wayfarers amid bursts of merry, mocking laughter. Ivanoff took not
the slightest notice of them, but Sanine smiled and nodded in response.
At last there appeared on the steps of a little white house with a
bright green roof the proprietor of the “Crown” tavern, a tall man in
his shirt-sleeves who noisily unlocked the door, while yawning
incessantly. A woman wearing a red kerchief on her head slipped in
after him.
“The very thing!” cried Ivanoff. “Let’s go there.”
So they went to the little inn and bought vodka and fresh gherkins from
the woman with the red kerchief.
“Aha! you seem to be pretty flush of money, my friend,” said Ivanoff,
as Sanine produced his purse.
“I’ve had an advance,” replied the latter, smiling. “Much to my
mother’s annoyance, I have accepted the secretaryship of an assurance
agency. In this way I was able to get a little cash as well as maternal
contempt.”
When they regained the high-road, Ivanoff exclaimed:
“Oh! I feel ever so much better now!”
“So do I. Suppose we take off our boots?”
“All right.”
Having taken off their boots and socks, they walked barefoot through
the warm, moist sand, which was a delightful experience after trudging
along in heavy boots.
“Jolly, isn’t it?” said Sanine, as he drew a deep breath.
The sun’s rays had now become far hotter. The town lay well in their
rear as the two wayfarers plodded bravely on towards the blue, nebulous
horizon. Swallows sat in rows on the telegraph-wires. A passenger-train
with its blue, yellow and green carriages rolled past on the adjacent
line, and the faces of drowsy travellers could be seen at the windows.
Two saucy-looking girls in white hats stood on the platform at the end
of the train and watched the two bare-footed men with astonishment.
Sanine laughed at them, and executed a wild impromptu dance.
Before them lay a meadow where walking barefoot in the long lush grass
was an agreeable relief.
“How delightful!” cried Ivanoff.
“Life’s worth living to-day,” rejoined his companion. Ivanoff glanced
at Sanine; he thought those words must surely remind him of Sarudine
and the recent tragedy. Yet seemingly it was far from Sanine’s
thoughts, which surprised Ivanoff somewhat, yet did not displease him.
After crossing the meadow, they again got on to the main road which was
thronged as before with peasants in their carts, and giggling girls.
Then they came to trees, and reeds, and glittering water, while above
them, at no great distance on the hill-side, stood the monastery,
topped by a cross that shone like some golden star.
Painted rowing-boats lined the shore, where peasants in bright-coloured
shirts and vests lounged. After much haggling and good-humoured banter,
Sanine hired one of the little boats. Ivanoff was a deft and powerful
oarsman, and the boat shot forward across the water like a living
thing. Sometimes the oars touched reeds or low-hanging branches which
for a long while after such contact trembled above the deep, dark
stream. Sanine steered with so much erratic energy that the water
foamed and gurgled round the rudder. They reached a narrow backwater
where it was shady and cool. So transparent was the stream that one
could see the bottom covered with yellow pebbles, where shoals of
little pink fish darted backwards and forwards.
“Here’s a good place to land,” said Ivanoff, and his voice sounded
cheery beneath the dark branches of the overhanging trees. As the boat
with a grating sound touched the bank, he sprang lightly ashore.
Sanine, laughing, did likewise.
“You won’t find a better,” he cried, plunging knee-deep through the
long grasses.
“Anywhere’s good in the sun, I say,” replied Ivanoff, as from the boat
he fetched the vodka, the bread, the cucumbers, and a little packet of
_hors d’œuvres._ All these he placed on a mossy slope in the shade of
the trees, and here he lay down at full length.
“Lucullus dines with Lucullus,” he said.
“Lucky man!” replied Sanine.
“Not entirely,” added Ivanoff, with a droll expression of discontent,
“for he’s forgotten the glasses.”
“Never mind! We can manage, somehow.”
Full of the sheer joy of living in this warm sunlight and green shade,
Sanine climbed up a tree and began cutting off a bough with his knife,
while Ivanoff watched him as the little white chips kept falling on to
the turf below. At last the bough fell, too, when Sanine climbed down,
and began to scoop it out, leaving the bark intact.
In a short time he had made a pretty little drinking-cup.
“Let’s have a dip afterwards, shall we?” said Ivanoff, who was watching
Sanine’s craftsmanship with interest.
“Not a bad idea,” replied Sanine, as he tossed the newly-made cup into
the air and caught it.
Then they sat down on the grass and did ample justice to their
appetising little meal.
“I can’t wait any longer. I’m going to bathe.”
So saying, Ivanoff hastily stripped, and, as he could not swim, he
plunged into shallow water where the even sandy bottom was clearly
visible.
“It’s lovely!” he cried, jumping about, and splashing wildly.
Sanine watched him and then in leisurely fashion he also undressed, and
took a header into the deeper part of the stream.
“You’ll be drowned,” cried Ivanoff.
“No fear!” was the laughing rejoinder, when Sanine, gasping, had risen
to the surface.
The sound of their merry voices rang out across the river, and the
green pasture-land. After a time they left the cool water, and lying
down, naked in the grass, rolled over and over in it.
“Jolly, isn’t it?” said Ivanoff, as he turned to the sun his broad back
on which little drops of water glistened.
“Here let us build tabernacles!”
“Deuce take your tabernacles,” cried Sanine merrily; “No tabernacles
for me!”
“Hurrah!” shouted Ivanoff, as he began dancing a wild, barbaric dance.
Sanine burst out laughing, and leaped about in the same way. Their nude
bodies gleamed in the sun, every muscle showing beneath the tense skin.
“Ouf!” gasped Ivanoff.
Sanine went on dancing by himself, and finished up by turning a
somersault, head foremost.
“Come along, or I shall drink up all the vodka,” cried his companion.
Having dressed, they ate the remainder of their provisions, while
Ivanoff sighed ruefully for a draught of ice-cold beer.
“Let’s go, shall we?” he said.
“Right!”
They raced at full speed to the river-bank, jumped into their boat, and
pushed off.
“Doesn’t the sun sting!” said Sanine, who was lying at full length in
the bottom of the boat.
“That means rain,” replied Ivanoff. “Get up and steer, for God’s sake!”
“You can manage quite well by yourself,” was the reply.
Ivanoff struck the water with his oars, so that Sanine got thoroughly
splashed.
“Thank you,” said the latter, coolly.
As they passed a green spot they heard laughter and the sound of merry
girlish voices. It being a holiday, townsfolk had come thither to enjoy
themselves.
“Girls bathing,” said Ivanoff.
“Let’s go and look at them,” suggested Sanine.
“They would see us.”
“No they wouldn’t. We could land here, and go through the reeds.”
“Leave them alone,” said Ivanoff, blushing slightly.
“Come on.”
“No, I don’t like to….”
“Don’t like to?”
“Well, but … they’re girls … young ladies … I don’t think it’s quite
proper.”
“You’re a silly fool!” laughed Sanine, “Do you mean to say that you
wouldn’t like to see them?”
“Perhaps I should, but …”
“Very well, then, let’s go. No mock modesty! What man wouldn’t do the
same, if he had the chance?”
“Yes, but if you reason like that, you ought to watch them openly. Why
hide yourself?”
“Because it’s so much more exciting,” said Sanine gaily.
“I dare say, but I advise you not to—”
“For chastity’s sake, I suppose?”
“If you like.”
“But chastity is the very thing that we don’t possess!”
“If thine eye offend thee, pluck it out!” said Ivanoff.
“Oh! please don’t talk nonsense, like Yourii Svarogitsch! God didn’t
give us eyes that we might pluck out.”
Ivanoff smiled, and shrugged his shoulders.
“Look here, my boy,” said Sanine, steering towards the bank, “if the
sight of girls bathing were to rouse in you no carnal desire, then you
would have a right to be called chaste. Indeed, though I should be the
last to imitate it, such chastity on your part would win my admiration.
But, having these natural desires, if you attempt to suppress them,
then I say that your so-called chastity is all humbug.”
“That’s right enough, but, if no check were placed upon desires, great
harm might result.”
“What harm, pray? Sensuality, I grant you, sometimes has evil results,
but it’s not the fault of sensuality.”
“Perhaps not, but….”
“Very well, then, are you coming?”
“Yes, but I’m—”
“A fool, that’s what you are! Gently! Don’t make such a noise,” said
Sanine, as they crept along through the fragrant grass and rustling
reeds.
“Look there!” whispered Ivanoff, excitedly.
From the smart frocks, hats and petticoats lying on the grass, it was
evident that the party of bathers had come out from the town. Some were
merrily splashing about in the water which dripped in silver beads from
their round, soft limbs. One stood on the bank, erect and lithe, and
the sunlight enhanced the plastic beauty of her form that quivered as
she laughed.
“Oh! I say!” exclaimed Sanine, fascinated by the sight.
Ivanoff started backwards as in alarm.
“What’s the matter?”
“Hush! It’s Sina Karsavina!”
“So it is!” said Sanine aloud. “I didn’t recognize her. How charming
she looks!”
“Yes, doesn’t she?” said the other, chuckling.
At that moment laughter and loud cries told them that they had been
overheard. Karsavina, startled, leaped into the clear water from which
alone her rosy face and shining eyes emerged. Sanine and Ivanoff fled
precipitately, stumbling back through the tall rushes to their boat.
“Oh! how good it is to be alive!” said Sanine, stretching himself.
Down the river, floating onward,
Ever onward, to the sea.
So he sang in his clear, resonant voice, while behind the trees the
sound of girlish laughter could still be heard. Ivanoff looked at the
sky.
“It’s going to rain,” he said.
The trees had become darker, and a deep shadow passed swiftly across
the meadow.
“We shall have to run for it!”
“Where? There’s no escape, now,” cried Sanine cheerfully.
Overhead a leaden-hued cloud floated nearer and nearer. There was no
wind; the stillness and gloom had increased.
“We shall get soaked to the skin,” said Ivanoff, “so do give me a
cigarette, to console me.”
Faintly the little yellow flame of the match flickered in the gloom. A
sudden gust of wind swept it away. One big drop of rain splashed the
boat, and another fell on to Sanine’s brow. Then came the downpour.
Pattering on the leaves, the rain hissed as it touched the surface of
the water. All in a moment from the dark heaven it fell in torrents,
and only the rush and the splash of it could be heard.
“Nice, isn’t it?” said Sanine, moving his shoulders to which his wet
shirt was sticking.
“Not so bad,” replied Ivanoff, who had crouched at the bottom of the
boat.
Very soon the rain ceased, though the clouds had not dispersed, but
were massed behind the woods where flashes of lighting could be seen at
intervals.
“We ought to be getting back,” said Ivanoff.
“All right. I’m ready.”
They rowed out into the current. Black, heavy clouds hung overhead, and
the flashes of lightning became incessant; white scimitars that smote
the sullen sky. Though now it did not rain, a feeling of thunder was in
the air. Birds with wet and ruffled plumage skimmed the surface of the
river, while the trees loomed darkly against the blue-grey heavens.
“Ho! ho!” cried Ivanoff.
When they had landed and were plodding through the wet sand, the gloom
became more intense.
“We’re in for it, now.”
Nearer, ever nearer to earth the huge cloud approached, like some
dreadful grey-bellied monster. There was a sudden gust of wind, and
leaves and dust were whirled round and round. Then, a deafening crash,
as if the heavens were cleft asunder, when the lightning blazed and the
thunder broke.
“Oho—ho—ho!” shouted Sanine, trying to outvie the clamour of the storm.
But his voice, even to himself, was inaudible.
When they reached the fields, it was quite dark. Their pathway was lit
by vivid flashes, and the thunder never ceased.
“Oh! Ha! Ho!” shouted Sanine.
“What’s that?” cried Ivanoff.
At that moment a vivid flash revealed to him Sanine’s radiant face, the
only answer to his question. Then, a second flash showed Sanine, with
arms outstretched, gleefully apostrophizing the tempest.