'Well, yes... perhaps. But what of it?'
Filofey turned round facing the horses.
'It's a cart coming... lightly; iron-rimmed wheels,' he observed, and
he took up the reins. 'It's wicked folks coming, master; hereabouts, you
know, near Tula, they play a good many tricks.'
'What nonsense! What makes you suppose it's sure to be wicked people?'
'I speak the truth... with tambourines... and in an empty cart.... Who
should it be?'
'Well... is it much further to Tula?'
'There's twelve miles further to go, and not a habitation here.'
'Well, then, get on quicker; it's no good lingering.'
Filofey brandished the whip, and the coach rolled on again.
Though I did not put much faith in Filofey, I could not go to sleep.
'What if it really is so?' A disagreeable sensation began to stir in me.
I sat up in the coach--till then I had lain down--and began looking in
all directions. While I had been asleep, a slight fog had come over, not
the earth, but the sky; it stood high, the moon hung a whitish patch in
it, as though in smoke. Everything had grown dim and blended together,
though it was clearer near the ground. Around us flat, dreary country;
fields, nothing but fields--here and there bushes and ravines--and again
fields, mostly fallow, with scanty, dusty grass. A wilderness...
deathlike! If only a quail had called!
We drove on for half an hour. Filofey kept constantly cracking his whip
and clicking with his lips, but neither he nor I uttered a word. So we
mounted the hillside.... Filofey pulled up the horses, and promptly said
again:
'It is a rattle of wheels, master; yes, it is!'
I poked my head out of the coach again, but I might have stayed under
the cover of the hood, so distinctly, though still from a distance, the
sound reached me of cart-wheels, men whistling, the jingling of
tambourines, and even the thud of horses' hoofs; I even fancied I could
hear singing and laughter. The wind, it is true, was blowing from there,
but there was no doubt that the unknown travellers were a good mile,
perhaps two, nearer us. Filofey and I looked at one another; he only
gave his hat a tweak forward from behind, and at once, bending over the
reins, fell to whipping up the horses. They set off at a gallop, but
they could not gallop for long, and fell back into a trot again. Filofey
continued to whip them. We must get away!
I can't account for the fact that, though I had not at first shared
Filofey's apprehensions, about this time I suddenly gained the
conviction that we really were being followed by highwaymen.... I had
heard nothing new: the same tambourines, the same rattle of a cart
without a load, the same intermittent whistling, the same confused
uproar.... But now I had no doubt. Filofey could not have made a
mistake!
And now twenty minutes more had gone by.... During the last of these
twenty minutes, even through the clatter and rumble of our own carriage,
we could hear another clatter and another rumbling....
'Stop, Filofey,' I said; 'it's no use--the end's the same!'
Filofey uttered a faint-hearted 'wo'! The horses instantaneously
stopped, as though delighted at the chance of resting!
Mercy upon us! the tambourines were simply booming away just behind our
backs, the cart was rattling and creaking, the men were whistling,
shouting, and singing, the horses were snorting and thumping on the
ground with their hoofs.... They had overtaken us!
'Bad luck,' Filofey commented, in an emphatic undertone; and, clicking
to the horses irresolutely, he began to urge them on again. But at that
very instant there was a sort of sudden rush and whizz, and a very big,
wide cart, harnessed with three lean horses, cut sharply at a rush up to
us, galloped in front, and at once fell into a walking pace, blocking up
the road.
'A regular brigand's trick!' murmured Filofey. I must own I felt a cold
chill at my heart.... I fell to staring before me with strained
attention in the half-darkness of the misty moonlight. In the cart in
front of us were--half-lying, half-sitting--six men in shirts, and in
unbuttoned rough overcoats; two of them had no caps on; huge feet in
boots were swinging and hanging over the cart-rail, arms were rising and
falling helter-skelter... bodies were jolting backwards and
forwards.... It was quite clear--a drunken party. Some were bawling at
random; one was whistling very correctly and shrilly, another was
swearing; on the driver's seat sat a sort of giant in a cape, driving.
They went at a walking pace, as' though paying no attention to us.
What was to be done? We followed them also at a walking pace... we
could do nothing else.
For a quarter of a mile we moved along in this manner. The suspense was
torturing.... To protect, to defend ourselves, was out of the question!
There were six of them; and I hadn't even a stick! Should we turn back?
But they would catch us up directly. I remembered the line of Zhukovsky
(in the passage where he speaks of the murder of field-marshal
Kamensky):
'The scoundrel highwayman's vile axe!...'
Or else--strangling with filthy cord... flung into a ditch...there to
choke and struggle like a hare in a trap....
Ugh, it was horrid!
And they, as before, went on at a walking pace, taking no notice of us.
'Filofey!' I whispered,'just try, keep more to the right; see if you can
get by.'
Filofey tried--kept to the right... but they promptly kept to the right
too... It was impossible to get by.
Filofey made another effort; he kept to the left.... But there, again,
they did not let him pass the cart. They even laughed aloud. That meant
that they wouldn't let us pass.
'Then they are a bad lot,' Filofey whispered to me over his shoulder.
'But what are they waiting for?' I inquired, also in a whisper.
'To reach the bridge--over there in front--in the hollow--above the
stream.... They'll do for us there! That's always their way... by
bridges. It's a clear case for us, master.' He added with a sigh:
'They'll hardly let us go alive; for the great thing for them is to keep
it all dark. I'm sorry for one thing, master; my horses are lost, and my
brothers won't get them!'
I should have been surprised at the time that Filofey could still
trouble about his horses at such a moment; but, I must confess, I had no
thoughts for him.... 'Will they really kill me?' I kept repeating
mentally. 'Why should they? I'll give them everything I have....'
And the bridge was getting nearer and nearer; it could be more and more
clearly seen.
Suddenly a sharp whoop was heard; the cart before us, as it were, flew
ahead, dashed along, and reaching the bridge, at once stopped
stock-still a little on one side of the road. My heart fairly sank like
lead.
'Ah, brother Filofey,' I said, 'we are going to our death. Forgive me
for bringing you to ruin.'
'As though it were your fault, master! There's no escaping one's fate!
Come, Shaggy, my trusty little horse,' Filofey addressed the
shaft-horse; 'step on, brother! Do your last bit of service! It's all
the same...'
And he urged his horses into a trot We began to get near the
bridge--near that motionless, menacing cart.... In it everything was
silent, as though on purpose. Not a single halloo! It was the stillness
of the pike or the hawk, of every beast of prey, as its victim
approaches. And now we were level with the cart.... Suddenly the giant
in the cape sprang out of the cart, and came straight towards us!
He said nothing to Filofey, but the latter, of his own accord, tugged at
the reins.... The coach stopped. The giant laid both arms on the
carriage door, and bending forward his shaggy head with a grin, he
uttered the following speech in a soft, even voice, with the accent of a
factory hand:
'Honoured sir, we are coming from an honest feast--from a wedding; we've
been marrying one of our fine fellows--that is, we've put him to bed;
we're all young lads, reckless chaps--there's been a good deal of
drinking, and nothing to sober us; so wouldn't your honour be so good as
to favour us, the least little, just for a dram of brandy for our mate?
We'd drink to your health, and remember your worship; but if you won't
be gracious to us--well, we beg you not to be angry!'
'What's the meaning of this?' I thought.... 'A joke?... a jeer?'
The giant continued to stand with bent head. At that very instant the
moon emerged from the fog and lighted up his face. There was a grin on
the face, in the eyes, and on the lips. But there was nothing
threatening to be seen in it... only it seemed, as it were, all on the
alert... and the teeth were so white and large....
'I shall be pleased... take this...' I said hurriedly, and pulling my
purse out of my pocket, I took out two silver roubles--at that time
silver was still circulating in Russia--'here, if that's enough?'
'Much obliged!' bawled the giant, in military fashion; and his fat
fingers in a flash snatched from me--not the whole purse--but only the
two roubles: 'much obliged!' He shook his hair back, and ran up to the
cart.
'Lads!' he shouted, 'the gentleman makes us a present of two silver
roubles!' They all began, as it were, gabbling at once.... The giant
rolled up on to the driver's seat....
'Good luck to you, master!'
And that was the last we saw of them. The horses dashed on, the cart
rumbled up the hill; once more it stood out on the dark line separating
the earth from the sky, went down, and vanished.
And now the rattle of the wheels, the shouts and tambourines, could not
be heard....
There was a death-like silence.
* * * * *
Filofey and I could not recover ourselves all at once.
'Ah, you're a merry fellow!' he commented at last, and taking off his
hat he began crossing himself. 'Fond of a joke, on my word,' he added,
and he turned to me, beaming all over. 'But he must be a capital
fellow--on my word! Now, now, now, little ones, look alive! You're safe!
We are all safe! It was he who wouldn't let us get by; it was he who
drove the horses. What a chap for a joke! Now, now! get on, in God's
name!'
I did not speak, but I felt happy too. 'We are safe!' I repeated to
myself, and lay down on the hay. 'We've got off cheap!'
I even felt rather ashamed that I had remembered that line of
Zhukovsky's.
Suddenly an idea occurred to me.
'Filofey!'
'What is it?'
'Are you married?'
'Yes.'
'And have you children?'
'Yes.'
'How was it you didn't think of them? You were sorry for your horses:
weren't you sorry for your wife and children?'
'Why be sorry for them? They weren't going to fall into the hands of
thieves, you know. But I kept them in my mind all the while, and I do
now... surely.' Filofey paused.... 'May be... it was for their sake
Almighty God had mercy on us.'
'But if they weren't highwaymen?'
'How can we tell? Can one creep into the soul of another? Another's
soul, we know, is a dark place. But, with the thought of God in the
heart, things are always better.... No, no!... I'd my family all the
time.... Gee... gee-up! little ones, in God's name!'
It was already almost daylight; we began to drive into Tula. I was
lying, dreamy and half-asleep.
'Master,' Filofey said to me suddenly, 'look: there they're stopping at
the tavern... their cart.'
I raised my head... there they were, and their cart and horses. In the
doorway of the drinking-house there suddenly appeared our friend, the
giant in the cape. 'Sir!' he shouted, waving his cap, 'we're drinking
your health!--Hey, coachman,' he added, wagging his head at Filofey;
'you were a bit scared, I shouldn't wonder, hey?'
'A merry fellow!' observed Filofey when we had driven nearly fifty yards
from the tavern.
We got into Tula at last: I bought shot, and while I was about it, tea
and spirits, and even got a horse from the horse-dealer.
At mid-day we set off home again. As we drove by the place where we
first heard the rattle of the cart behind us, Filofey, who, having had
something to drink at Tula, turned out to be very talkative--he even
began telling me fairy-tales--as he passed the place, suddenly burst out
laughing.
'Do you remember, master, how I kept saying to you, "A rattle... a
rattle of wheels," I said!'
He waved his hand several times. This expression struck him as most
amusing. The same evening we got back to his village.
I related the adventure that had befallen us to Yermolaï. Being sober,
he expressed no sympathy; he only gave a grunt--whether of approval or
reproach, I imagine he did not know himself. But two days later he
informed me, with great satisfaction, that the very night Filofey and I
had been driving to Tula, and on the very road, a merchant had been
robbed and murdered. I did not at first put much faith in this, but
later on I was obliged to believe it: it was confirmed by the police
captain, who came galloping over in consequence.
Was not that perhaps the 'wedding' our brave spirits were returning
from?--wasn't that the 'fine fellow' they had 'put to bed,' in the words
of the jocose giant? I stayed five days longer in Filofey's village.
Whenever I meet him I always say to him: 'A rattle of wheels? Eh?'
'A merry fellow!' he always answers, and bursts out laughing.