We walked for more than an hour through the dark fields. Weariness
claimed its own and we neither wished to speak nor listen. At first I
kept on thinking and tried in the darkness to imagine the appearance
of my companions. This worked with Andrey Ivanovich, whom I knew well,
and also with the little wanderer, but I had forgotten the features
of Avtonomov, and as I looked at his dark form I could not recall his
face.... Avtonomov at the clerk’s house and yesterday’s preacher seemed
two distinct people.
My thoughts became still more confused; several days of tramping,—the
dull night, the silence, the heavy, muddy road or the absence of
one,—this was all that I could learn from my great weariness, and I began
to lose myself as I walked along. It was a sort of semi-consciousness
which permitted fantastic dreams strangely intertwined with reality.
But reality for me was merely the dark road and three misty shapes,
now behind me, now driving me onward.... I went with them almost
unconsciously.
When I partially awoke, they were standing in the road and arguing.
“Open your eyes,” said the bootmaker, angrily but lazily.
“Thanks for your explanation,—I wouldn’t have guessed it,” answered the
wanderer. “Don’t you know, signor, how to get to the road?”
I looked out lazily into the darkness. With its arms disappearing among
the clouds, a huge black windmill towered above us; behind and beside it
were others. I thought the whole field was dotted with windmills, silent
but menacing....
“I’ve been spitting all night to beat this devil,” said Andrey Ivanovich
venomously.
“Well, just keep still a little while, lanky signor,” said Avtonomov.
“Listen!...”
“Grinding?” said Andrey Ivanovich questioningly....
“Right,” answered Avtonomov cheerfully. “The wheels are working. What a
jolly little river!”
“Is it far?”
“Yes, by the road. We’ll take a short cut.”
“You’ll land us in the swamp, you devil....”
My feet carried me through the darkness after the three dark figures. I
stumbled over the stubble or the hummocks, and they threw me forward or
to the side.... If I had met a ravine or a river,—I would probably have
waked up at the bottom.... At times strange phantoms leaped and flew from
my head into the unshapen fog.
Finally I ceased to stumble over hummocks. I felt a level road beneath
my feet and I heard an even, kindly hum. Water was pouring, roaring,
running, splashing and foaming, telling of something interesting, but
too confused.... The noise stopped, but suddenly it became louder, as if
the water were pouring through a dam.... I woke up completely and looked
around in surprise.... Andrey Ivanovich caught me from behind. He took my
arm and pushed me ahead....
“Wake up ... you’ll sleep when you’re walking.... We’re tied up with the
devil and may God forgive us!... If the peasants come out, they’ll break
our necks.... Quick, quick.... See Ivan Ivanovich go with his cassock
held up....”
Indeed, the little wanderer was running with a speed that surprised me.
“Here ... here....”
Without understanding what had happened, I found myself hidden in
the thick willows on the bank of a little stream. Ivan Ivanovich was
panting.... Avtonomov was not with us. Near by the mill was roaring. The
water raged and poured through the open sluices. One wheel was turning
heavily as before,—another seemed locked,—it trembled and groaned beneath
the assaults of the water. A dog was pulling at his chain and howling
with anger.
A window in the mill lighted up as if the building had waked and opened
one eye. A door creaked and the old miller in a white shirt and trousers
came out on the platform with a lantern. Behind him came another man,
yawning and stretching.
“Did the dam go out?” he asked.
“It certainly did,—hear it roar in the sluice-ways; it almost broke the
bars.... Just look.... Oh, ye saints....”
“Just look; they’re open.”
“What the devil! Who opened them?”
The peasants went to the sluices. The roar soon died away; they pushed
both bolts and the mill stopped. The light of the lantern slowly crawled
back along the dam and again disappeared. Then a rattle sounded shrilly.
One peasant was evidently still on guard....
The unusual commotion at the mill, sounding across the fields, again
roused the sleeping villages. It was surprising how many of them were
hidden in the darkness. From all sides, in front, behind, almost beneath,
they answered the alarm with the beating of boards and rattles. The slow
peal of a bell floated up from a distant village or a cemetery. Near by
some night bird called.
“Let’s go,” said Andrey Ivanovich, when the mill had become quiet....
“One rascal can so disturb people.”
“What’s the matter?” I asked.
“Ask him,” said the bootmaker spitefully, and he pointed to Ivan
Ivanovich.
“Y-yes,” answered the wanderer sadly. “Of course, it’s outrageous.... I
don’t approve of it....”
“What’s the matter? Where’s Avtonomov?”
“There he is—calling like a bird and making signs to us.... Come here, my
dear companions.... How the rascal managed to open the sluices, I didn’t
happen to notice. You, too!... You’ll follow him and sleep. If you’d kept
on ... and the peasants had appeared before,—there’d have been a picnic.
You bet! I’ll catch that devil and don’t you interfere. I’ll turn him
inside out and run his feet out through his throat!...”
He started ahead with his mind made up.