Olenin looked out of the window to see what he would do. Lukashka went out, hanging his head. Then, having led the horse out of the gate, he suddenly shook his head, threw the reins of the halter over its head, sprang onto its back like a cat, gave a wild shout, and galloped down the street. Olenin expected that Lukishka would go to share his joy with Maryanka, but though he did not do so Olenin still felt his soul more at ease than ever before in his life. He was as delighted as a boy, and could not refrain from telling Vanyusha not only that he had given Lukashka the horse, but also why he had done it, as well as his new theory of happiness. Vanyusha did not approve of his theory, and announced that "l"argent il n"y a pas!" and that therefore it was all nonsense.
Lukashka rode home, jumped off the horse, and handed it over to his mother, telling her to let it out with the communal Cossack herd. He himself had to return to the cordon that same night. His deaf sister undertook to take the horse, and explained by signs that when she saw the man who had given the horse, she would bow down at his feet. The old woman only shook her head at her son"s story, and decided in her own mind that he had stolen it. She therefore told the deaf girl to take it to the herd before daybreak.
Lukashka went back alone to the cordon pondering over Olenin"s action.
Though he did not consider the horse a good one, yet it was worth at least forty rubles and Lukashka was very glad to have the present. But why it had been given him he could not at all understand, and therefore he did not experience the least feeling of grat.i.tude. On the contrary, vague suspicions that the cadet had some evil intentions filled his mind. What those intentions were he could not decide, but neither could he admit the idea that a stranger would give him a horse worth forty rubles for nothing, just out of kindness; it seemed impossible. Had he been drunk one might understand it! He might have wished to show off.
But the cadet had been sober, and therefore must have wished to bribe him to do something wrong. "Eh, humbug!" thought Lukashka. "Haven"t I got the horse and we"ll see later on. I"m not a fool myself and we shall see who"ll get the better of the other," he thought, feeling the necessity of being on his guard, and therefore arousing in himself unfriendly feelings towards Olenin. He told no one how he had got the horse. To some he said he had bought it, to others he replied evasively. However, the truth soon got about in the village, and Lukashka"s mother and Maryanka, as well as Elias Vasilich and other Cossacks, when they heard of Olenin"s unnecessary gift, were perplexed, and began to be on their guard against the cadet. But despite their fears his action aroused in them a great respect for his simplicity and wealth.
"Have you heard," said one, "that the cadet quartered on Elias Vasilich has thrown a fifty-ruble horse at Lukashka? He"s rich! ..."
"Yes, I heard of it," replied another profoundly, "he must have done him some great service. We shall see what will come of this cadet. Eh!
what luck that s.n.a.t.c.her has!"
"Those cadets are crafty, awfully crafty," said a third. "See if he don"t go setting fire to a building, or doing something!"
Chapter XXIII
Olenin"s life went on with monotonous regularity. He had little intercourse with the commanding officers or with his equals. The position of a rich cadet in the Caucasus was peculiarly advantageous in this respect. He was not sent out to work, or for training. As a reward for going on an expedition he was recommended for a commission, and meanwhile he was left in peace. The officers regarded him as an aristocrat and behaved towards him with dignity. Cardplaying and the officers" carousals accompanied by the soldier-singers, of which he had had experience when he was with the detachment, did not seem to him attractive, and he also avoided the society and life of the officers in the village. The life of officers stationed in a Cossack village has long had its own definite form. Just as every cadet or officer when in a fort regularly drinks porter, plays cards, and discusses the rewards given for taking part in the expeditions, so in the Cossack villages he regularly drinks chikhir with his hosts, treats the girls to sweet-meats and honey, dangles after the Cossack women, and falls in love, and occasionally marries there. Olenin always took his own path and had an unconscious objection to the beaten tracks. And here, too, he did not follow the ruts of a Caucasian officer"s life.
It came quite naturally to him to wake up at daybreak. After drinking tea and admiring from his porch the mountains, the morning, and Maryanka, he would put on a tattered ox-hide coat, sandals of soaked raw hide, buckle on a dagger, take a gun, put cigarettes and some lunch in a little bag, call his dog, and soon after five o"clock would start for the forest beyond the village. Towards seven in the evening he would return tired and hungry with five or six pheasants hanging from his belt (sometimes with some other animal) and with his bag of food and cigarettes untouched. If the thoughts in his head had lain like the lunch and cigarettes in the bag, one might have seen that during all those fourteen hours not a single thought had moved in it. He returned morally fresh, strong, and perfectly happy, and he could not tell what he had been thinking about all the time. Were they ideas, memories, or dreams that had been flitting through his mind? They were frequently all three. He would rouse himself and ask what he had been thinking about; and would see himself as a Cossack working in a vineyard with his Cossack wife, or an abrek in the mountains, or a boar running away from himself. And all the time he kept peering and watching for a pheasant, a boar, or a deer.
In the evening Daddy Eroshka would be sure to be sitting with him.
Vanyusha would bring a jug of chikhir, and they would converse quietly, drink, and separate to go quite contentedly to bed. The next day he would again go shooting, again be healthily weary, again they would sit conversing and drink their fill, and again be happy. Sometimes on a holiday or day of rest Olenin spent the whole day at home. Then his chief occupation was watching Maryanka, whose every movement, without realizing it himself, he followed greedily from his window or his porch. He regarded Maryanka and loved her (so he thought) just as he loved the beauty of the mountains and the sky, and he had no thought of entering into any relations with her. It seemed to him that between him and her such relations as there were between her and the Cossack Lukashka could not exist, and still less such as often existed between rich officers and other Cossack girls. It seemed to him that if he tried to do as his fellow officers did, he would exchange his complete enjoyment of contemplation for an abyss of suffering, disillusionment, and remorse. Besides, he had already achieved a triumph of self-sacrifice in connexion with her which had given him great pleasure, and above all he was in a way afraid of Maryanka and would not for anything have ventured to utter a word of love to her lightly.
Once during the summer, when Olenin had not gone out shooting but was sitting at home, quite unexpectedly a Moscow acquaintance, a very young man whom he had met in society, came in.
"Ah, mon cher, my dear fellow, how glad I was when I heard that you were here!" he began in his Moscow French, and he went on intermingling French words in his remarks. "They said, "Olenin". What Olenin? and I was so pleased.... Fancy fate bringing us together here! Well, and how are you? How? Why?" and Prince Beletski told his whole story: how he had temporarily entered the regiment, how the Commander-in-Chief had offered to take him as an adjutant, and how he would take up the post after this campaign although personally he felt quite indifferent about it.
"Living here in this hole one must at least make a career--get a cross--or a rank--be transferred to the Guards. That is quite indispensable, not for myself but for the sake of my relations and friends. The prince received me very well; he is a very decent fellow,"
said Beletski, and went on unceasingly. "I have been recommended for the St. Anna Cross for the expedition. Now I shall stay here a bit until we start on the campaign. It"s capital here. What women! Well, and how are you getting on? I was told by our captain, Startsev you know, a kind-hearted stupid creature.... Well, he said you were living like an awful savage, seeing no one! I quite understand you don"t want to be mixed up with the set of officers we have here. I am so glad now you and I will be able to see something of one another. I have put up at the Cossack corporal"s house. There is such a girl there. Ustenka! I tell you she"s just charming."
And more and more French and Russian words came pouring forth from that world which Olenin thought he had left for ever. The general opinion about Beletski was that he was a nice, good-natured fellow. Perhaps he really was; but in spite of his pretty, good-natured face, Olenin thought him extremely unpleasant. He seemed just to exhale that filthiness which Olenin had forsworn. What vexed him most was that he could not--had not the strength--abruptly to repulse this man who came from that world: as if that old world he used to belong to had an irresistible claim on him. Olenin felt angry with Beletski and with himself, yet against his wish he introduced French phrases into his own conversation, was interested in the Commander-in-Chief and in their Moscow acquaintances, and because in this Cossack village he and Beletski both spoke French, he spoke contemptuously of their fellow officers and of the Cossacks, and was friendly with Beletski, promising to visit him and inviting him to drop in to see him. Olenin however did not himself go to see Beletski. Vanyusha for his part approved of Beletski, remarking that he was a real gentleman.
Beletski at once adopted the customary life of a rich officer in a Cossack village. Before Olenin"s eyes, in one month he came to be like an old resident of the village; he made the old men drunk, arranged evening parties, and himself went to parties arranged by the girls--bragged of his conquests, and even got so far that, for some unknown reason, the women and girls began calling him grandad, and the Cossacks, to whom a man who loved wine and women was clearly understandable, got used to him and even liked him better than they did Olenin, who was a puzzle to them.
Chapter XXIV
It was five in the morning. Vanyusha was in the porch heating the samovar, and using the leg of a long boot instead of bellows. Olenin had already ridden off to bathe in the Terek. (He had recently invented a new amus.e.m.e.nt: to swim his horse in the river.) His landlady was in her outhouse, and the dense smoke of the kindling fire rose from the chimney. The girl was milking the buffalo cow in the shed. "Can"t keep quiet, the d.a.m.ned thing!" came her impatient voice, followed by the rhythmical sound of milking.
From the street in front of the house horses" hoofs were heard clattering briskly, and Olenin, riding bareback on a handsome dark-grey horse which was still wet and shining, rode up to the gate. Maryanka"s handsome head, tied round with a red kerchief, appeared from the shed and again disappeared. Olenin was wearing a red silk shirt, a white Circa.s.sian coat girdled with a strap which carried a dagger, and a tall cap. He sat his well-fed wet horse with a slightly conscious elegance and, holding his gun at his back, stooped to open the gate.
His hair was still wet, and his face shone with youth and health. He thought himself handsome, agile, and like a brave; but he was mistaken.
To any experienced Caucasian he was still only a soldier.
When he noticed that the girl had put out her head he stooped with particular smartness, threw open the gate and, tightening the reins, swished his whip and entered the yard. "Is tea ready, Vanyusha?" he cried gaily, not looking at the door of the shed. He felt with pleasure how his fine horse, pressing down its flanks, pulling at the bridle and with every muscle quivering and with each foot ready to leap over the fence, pranced on the hard clay of the yard. "C"est pret,"
answered Vanyusha. Olenin felt as if Maryanka"s beautiful head was still looking out of the shed but he did not turn to look at her. As he jumped down from his horse he made an awkward movement and caught his gun against the porch, and turned a frightened look towards the shed, where there was no one to be seen and whence the sound of milking could still be heard.
Soon after he had entered the hut he came out again and sat down with his pipe and a book on the side of the porch which was not yet exposed to the rays of the sun. He meant not to go anywhere before dinner that day, and to write some long-postponed letters; but somehow he felt disinclined to leave his place in the porch, and he was as reluctant to go back into the hut as if it had been a prison. The housewife had heated her oven, and the girl, having driven the cattle, had come back and was collecting kisyak and heaping it up along the fence. Olenin went on reading, but did not understand a word of what was written in the book that lay open before him. He kept lifting his eyes from it and looking at the powerful young woman who was moving about. Whether she stepped into the moist morning shadow thrown by the house, or went out into the middle of the yard lit up by the joyous young light, so that the whole of her stately figure in its bright coloured garment gleamed in the sunshine and cast a black shadow--he always feared to lose any one of her movements. It delighted him to see how freely and gracefully her figure bent: into what folds her only garment, a pink smock, draped itself on her bosom and along her shapely legs; how she drew herself up and her tight-drawn smock showed the outline of her heaving bosom, how the soles of her narrow feet in her worn red slippers rested on the ground without altering their shape; how her strong arms with the sleeves rolled up, exerting the muscles, used the spade almost as if in anger, and how her deep dark eyes sometimes glanced at him. Though the delicate brows frowned, yet her eyes expressed pleasure and a knowledge of her own beauty.
"I say, Olenin, have you been up long?" said Beletski as he entered the yard dressed in the coat of a Caucasian officer.
"Ah, Beletski," replied Olenin, holding out his hand. "How is it you are out so early?"
"I had to. I was driven out; we are having a ball tonight. Maryanka, of course you"ll come to Ustenka"s?" he added, turning to the girl.
Olenin felt surprised that Beletski could address this woman so easily.
But Maryanka, as though she had not heard him, bent her head, and throwing the spade across her shoulder went with her firm masculine tread towards the outhouse.
"She"s shy, the wench is shy," Beletski called after her. "Shy of you,"
he added as, smiling gaily, he ran up the steps of the porch.
"How is it you are having a ball and have been driven out?"
"It"s at Ustenka"s, at my landlady"s, that the ball is, and you two are invited. A ball consists of a pie and a gathering of girls."
"What should we do there?"
Beletski smiled knowingly and winked, jerking his head in the direction of the outhouse into which Maryanka had disappeared.
Olenin shrugged his shoulders and blushed.
"Well, really you are a strange fellow!" said he.
"Come now, don"t pretend"
Olenin frowned, and Beletski noticing this smiled insinuatingly. "Oh, come, what do you mean?" he said, "living in the same house--and such a fine girl, a splendid girl, a perfect beauty."
"Wonderfully beautiful! I never saw such a woman before," replied Olenin.
"Well then?" said Beletski, quite unable to understand the situation.
"It may be strange," replied Olenin, "but why should I not say what is true? Since I have lived here women don"t seem to exist for me. And it is so good, really! Now what can there be in common between us and women like these? Eroshka--that"s a different matter! He and I have a pa.s.sion in common--sport."
"There now! In common! And what have I in common with Amalia Ivanovna?
It"s the same thing! You may say they"re not very clean--that"s another matter... A la guerre, comme a la guerre! ..."
"But I have never known any Amalia Ivanovas, and have never known how to behave with women of that sort," replied Olenin. "One cannot respect them, but these I do respect."
"Well go on respecting them! Who wants to prevent you?"
Olenin did not reply. He evidently wanted to complete what he had begun to say. It was very near his heart.