Cats Of Tanglewood Forest

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Cats Of Tanglewood Forest

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.
nearly the same faces as the magistrate used when making love to
the priest's wife; he pressed his hand upon his heart, sighed, and
told her that if she did not choose to consider his passion, and meet
it with due return, he had made up his mind to throw himself into
the water, and send his soul right down to hell. But Solokha was not
so cruel—the more so, as the devil, it is well known, was in league
with her. Moreover, she liked to have some one to flirt with, and
rarely remained alone. This evening she expected to be without any
visitor, on account of all the chief inhabitants of the village being
invited to the clerk's house. And yet quite the contrary happened.
Hardly had the devil set forth his demand, when the voice of the
stout elder was heard. Solokha ran to open the door, and the quick
devil crept into one of the sacks that were lying on the floor. The
elder, after having shaken off the snow from his cap, and drunk a
cup of brandy which Solokha presented to him, told her that he had
not gone to the clerk's on account of the snow-storm, and that,
having seen a light in her cottage, he had come to pass the evening
with her. The elder had just done speaking when there was a knock
at the door, and the clerk's voice was heard from without. "Hide me
wherever thou wilt," whispered the elder; "I should not like to meet
the clerk." Solokha could not at first conceive where so stout a
visitor might possibly be hidden; at last she thought the biggest
charcoal sack would be fit for the purpose; she threw the charcoal
into a tub, and the sack being empty, in went the stout elder,
mustachios, head, cap, and all. Presently the clerk made his
appearance, giving way to a short dry cough, and rubbing his hands
together. He told her how none of his guests had come, and how he
was heartily glad of it, as it had given him the opportunity of taking
a walk to her abode, in spite of the snow-storm. After this he came a
step nearer to her, coughed once more, laughed, touched her bare
plump arm with his fingers, and said with a sly, and at the same
time a pleased voice, "What have you got here, most magnificent
Solokha?" after which words he jumped back a few steps.
"How, what? Assip Nikiphorovitch! it is my arm!" answered Solokha.
"Hem! your arm! he! he! he!" smirked the clerk, greatly rejoiced at
his beginning, and he took a turn in the room.
"And what is this, dearest Solokha?" said he, with the same
expression, again coming to her, gently touching her throat, and
once more springing back.
"As if you cannot see for yourself, Assip Nikiphorovitch!" answered
Solokha, "it is my throat and my necklace on it."
"Hem! your necklace upon your throat! he! he! he!" and again did
the clerk take a walk, rubbing his hands.
"And what have you here, unequalled Solokha?"
We know not what the clerk's long fingers would now have touched,
if just at that moment he had not heard a knock at the door, and, at
the same time, the voice of the Cossack Choop.
"Heavens! what an unwelcome visitor!" said the clerk in a fright,
"whatever will happen if a person of my character is met here! If it
should reach the ears of Father Kondrat!" But, in fact, the
apprehension of the clerk was of quite a different description; above
all things he dreaded lest his wife should be acquainted with his visit
to Solokha; and he had good reason to dread her, for her powerful
hand had already made his thick plait[18] a very thin one. "In
Heaven's name, most virtuous Solokha!" said he, trembling all over;
"your goodness, as the Scripture saith, in St. Luke, chapter the thir—
thir—there is somebody knocking, decidedly there is somebody
knocking at the door! In Heaven's name let me hide somewhere!"
Solokha threw the charcoal out of another sack into the tub, and in
crept the clerk, who, being by no means corpulent, sat down at the
very bottom of it, so that there would have been room enough to
put more than half a sackful of charcoal on top of him.
"Good evening, Solokha," said Choop, stepping into the room, "Thou
didst not perhaps expect me? didst thou? certainly not; may be I
hindered thee," continued Choop, putting on a gay meaning face,
which expressed at once that his lazy head laboured, and that he
was on the point of saying some sharp and sportive witticism. "May
be thou wert already engaged in flirting with somebody! May be
thou hast already some one hidden? Is it so?" said he; and delighted
at his own wit, Choop gave way to a hearty laugh, inwardly exulting
at the thought that he was the only one who enjoyed the favours of
Solokha. "Well now, Solokha, give me a glass of brandy; I think the
abominable frost has frozen my throat! What a night for a Christmas
eve! As it began snowing, Solokha—-just listen, Solokha—as it began
snowing—eh! I cannot move my hands; impossible to unbutton my
coat! Well, as it began snowing"—
"Open!" cried some one in the street, at the same time giving a
thump at the door.
"Somebody is knocking at the door!" said Choop, stopping in his
speech.
"Open!" cried the voice, still louder.
"'Tis the blacksmith!" said Choop, taking his cap; "listen, Solokha!—
put me wherever thou wilt! on no account in the world would I meet
that confounded lad! Devil's son! I wish he had a blister as big as a
haycock under each eye."
Solokha was so frightened that she rushed backwards and forwards
in the room, and quite unconscious of what she did, showed Choop
into the same sack where the clerk was already sitting. The poor
clerk had to restrain his cough and his sighs when the weighty
Cossack sat down almost on his head, and placed his boots, covered
with frozen snow, just on his temples.
The blacksmith came in, without saying a word, without taking off
his cap, and threw himself on the bench. It was easy to see that he
was in a very bad temper. Just as Solokha shut the door after him,
she heard another tap under the window. It was the Cossack
Sverbygooze. As to this one, he decidedly could never have been
hidden in a sack, for no sack large enough could ever have been
found. In person, he was even stouter than the elder, and as to
height, he was even taller than Choop's kinsman. So Solokha went
with him into the kitchen garden, in order to hear whatever he had
to say to her.
The blacksmith looked vacantly round the room, listening at times to
the songs of the carolling parties. His eyes rested at last on the
sacks:
"Why do these sacks lie here? They ought to have been taken away
long ago. This stupid love has made quite a fool of me; to-morrow is
a festival, and the room is still full of rubbish. I will clear it away into
the smithy!" And the blacksmith went to the enormous sacks, tied
them as tightly as he could, and would have lifted them on his
shoulders; but it was evident that his thoughts were far away,
otherwise he could not have helped hearing how Choop hissed when
the cord with which the sack was tied, twisted his hair, and how the
stout elder began to hiccup very distinctly. "Shall I never get this silly
Oxana out of my head?" mused the blacksmith; "I will not think of
her; and yet, in spite of myself I think of her, and of her alone. How
is it that thoughts come into one's head against one's own will?
What, the devil! Why the sacks appear to have grown heavier than
they were; it seems as if there was something else besides charcoal!
What a fool I am! have I forgotten that everything seems to me
heavier than it used to be. Some time ago, with one hand I could
bend and unbend a copper coin, or a horse-shoe; and now, I cannot
lift a few sacks of charcoal; soon every breath of wind will blow me
off my legs. No," cried he, after having remained silent for a while,
and coming to himself again, "shall it be said that I am a woman?
No one shall have the laugh against me; had I ten such sacks, I
would lift them all at once." And, accordingly, he threw the sacks
upon his shoulders, although two strong men could hardly have
lifted them. "I will take this little one, too," continued he, taking hold
of the little one, at the bottom of which was coiled up the devil. "I
think I put my instruments into it;" and thus saying, he went out of
the cottage, whistling the tune:
"No wife I'll have to bother me."
Songs and shouts grew louder and louder in the streets; the crowds
of strolling people were increased by those who came in from the
neighbouring villages; the lads gave way to their frolics and sports.
Often amongst the Christmas carols might be heard a gay song, just
improvised by some young Cossack. Hearty laughter rewarded the
improviser. The little windows of the cottages flew open, and from
them was thrown a sausage or a piece of pie, by the thin hand of
some old woman or some aged peasant, who alone remained in-
doors. The booty was eagerly caught in the sacks of the young
people. In one place, the lads formed a ring to surround a group of
maidens; nothing was heard but shouts and screams; one was
throwing a snow-ball, another was endeavouring to get hold of a
sack crammed with Christmas donations. In another place, the girls
caught hold of some youth, or put something in his way, and down
he fell with his sack. It seemed as if the whole of the night would
pass away in these festivities. And the night, as if on purpose, shone
so brilliantly; the gleam of the snow made the beams of the moon
still whiter.
The blacksmith with his sacks stopped suddenly. He fancied he
heard the voice and the sonorous laughter of Oxana in the midst of
a group of maidens. It thrilled through his whole frame; he threw
the sacks on the ground with so much force that the clerk, sitting at
the bottom of one of them, groaned with pain, and the elder
hiccupped aloud; then, keeping only the little sack upon his
shoulders, the blacksmith joined a company of lads who followed
close after a group of maidens, amongst whom he thought he had
heard Oxana's voice.
"Yes, indeed; there she is! standing like a queen, her dark eyes
sparkling with pleasure! There is a handsome youth speaking with
her; his speech seems very amusing, for she is laughing; but does
she not always laugh?" Without knowing why he did it and as if
against his will, the blacksmith pushed his way through the crowd,
and stood beside her.
"Ah! Vakoola, here art thou; a good evening to thee!" said the belle,
with the very smile which drove Vakoola quite mad. "Well, hast thou
received much? Eh! what a small sack! And didst thou get the boots
that the Czarina wears? Get those boots and I'll marry thee!" and
away she ran laughing with the crowd.
The blacksmith remained riveted to the spot. "No, I cannot; I have
not the strength to endure it any longer," said he at last. "But,
Heavens! why is she so beautiful? Her looks, her voice, all, all about
her makes my blood boil! No, I cannot get the better of it; it is time
to put an end to this. Let my soul perish! I'll go and drown myself,
and then all will be over." He dashed forwards with hurried steps,
overtook the group, approached Oxana, and said to her in a resolute
voice: "Farewell, Oxana! Take whatever bridegroom thou pleasest;
make a fool of whom thou wilt; as for me, thou shalt never more
meet me in this world!" The beauty seemed astonished, and was
about to speak, but the blacksmith waved his hand and ran away.
"Whither away, Vakoola?" cried the lads, seeing him run. "Farewell,
brothers," answered the blacksmith. "God grant that we may meet in
another world; but in this we meet no more! Fare you well! keep a
kind remembrance of me. Pray Father Kondrat to say a mass for my
sinful soul. Ask him forgiveness that I did not, on account of worldly
cares, paint the tapers for the church. Everything that is found in my
big box I give to the Church; farewell!"—and thus saying, the
blacksmith went on running, with his sack on his back.
"He has gone mad!" said the lads. "Poor lost soul!" piously
ejaculated an old woman who happened to pass by; "I'll go and tell
about the blacksmith having hanged himself."
Vakoola, after having run for some time along the streets, stopped
to take breath. "Well, where am I running?" thought he; "is really all
lost? —I'll try one thing more; I'll go to the fat Patzuck, the
Zaporoghian. They say he knows every devil, and has the power of
doing everything he wishes; I'll go to him; 'tis the same thing for the
perdition of my soul." At this, the devil, who had long remained quiet
and motionless, could not refrain from giving vent to his joy by
leaping in the sack. But the blacksmith thinking he had caught the
sack with his hand, and thus occasioned the movement himself,
gave a hard blow on the sack with his fist, and after shaking it about
on his shoulders, went off to the fat Patzuck.
This fat Patzuck had indeed once been a Zaporoghian. Nobody,
however, knew whether he had been turned out of the warlike
community, or whether he had fled from it of his own accord.
He had already been for some ten, nay, it might even be for some
fifteen years, settled at Dikanka. At first, he had lived as best suited
a Zaporoghian; working at nothing, sleeping three-quarters of the
day, eating not less than would satisfy six harvest-men, and drinking
almost a whole pailful at once. It must be allowed that there was
plenty of room for food and drink in Patzuck; for, though he was not
very tall, he tolerably made up for it in bulk. Moreover, the trousers
he wore were so wide, that long as might be the strides he took in
walking, his feet were never seen at all, and he might have been
taken t for a wine cask moving along the streets. This, may have
been the reason for giving him the nick-name of "Fatty." A few
weeks had hardly passed since his arrival in the village, when it
came to be known that he was a wizard. If any one happened to fall
ill, he called Patzuck directly; and Patzuck had only to mutter a few
words to put an end to the illness at once. Had any hungry Cossack
swallowed a fish-bone, Patzuck knew how to give him right skilfully a
slap on the back, so that the fish-bone went where it ought to go
without causing any pain to the Cossack's throat. Latterly, Patzuck
was scarcely ever seen out of doors. This was perhaps caused by
laziness, and perhaps, also, because to get through the door was a
task which with every year grew more and more difficult for him. So
the villagers were obliged to repair to his own lodgings whenever
they wanted to consult him. The blacksmith opened the door, not
without some fear. He saw Patzuck sitting on the floor after the
Turkish fashion. Before him was a tub on which stood a tureen full of
lumps of dough cooked in grease. The tureen was put, as if
intentionally, on a level with his mouth. Without moving a single
finger, he bent his head a little towards the tureen, and sipped the
gravy, catching the lumps of dough with his teeth. "Well," thought
Vakoola to himself, "this fellow is still lazier than Choop; Choop at
least eats with a spoon, but this one does not even raise his hand!"
Patzuck seemed to be busily engaged with his meal, for he took not
the slightest notice of the entrance of the blacksmith, who, as soon
as he crossed the threshold, made a low bow.
"I am come to thy worship, Patzuck!" said Vakoola, bowing once
more. The fat Patzuck lifted his head and went on eating the lumps
of dough.
"They say that thou art—I beg thy pardon," said the blacksmith,
endeavouring to compose himself, "I do not say it to offend thee—
that thou hast the devil among thy friends;" and in saying these
words Vakoola was already afraid he had spoken too much to the
point, and had not sufficiently softened the hard words he had used,
and that Patzuck would throw at his head both the tub and the
tureen; he even stepped a little on one side and covered his face
with his sleeve, to prevent it from being sprinkled by the gravy.
But Patzuck looked up and continued sipping.
The encouraged blacksmith resolved to proceed —"I am come to
thee, Patzuck; God grant thee plenty of everything, and bread in
good proportion!" The blacksmith knew how to put in a fashionable
word sometimes; it was a talent he had acquired during his stay at
Poltava, when he painted the centurion's palisade. "I am on the
point of endangering the salvation of my sinful soul! nothing in this
world can serve me! Come what will, I am resolved to seek the help
of the devil. Well, Patzuck," said he, seeing that the other remained
silent, "what am I to do?"
"If thou wantest the devil, go to the devil!" answered Patzuck, not
giving him a single look, and going on with his meal.
"I am come to thee for this very reason," returned the blacksmith
with a bow; "besides thyself, methinks there is hardly anybody in the
world who knows how to go to the devil."
Patzuck, without saying a word, ate up all that remained on the dish.
"Please, good man, do not refuse me!" urged the blacksmith. "And if
there be any want of pork, or sausages, or buckwheat, or even linen
or millet, or anything else—why, we know how honest folk manage
these things. I shall not be stingy. Only do tell me, if it be only by a
hint, how to find the way to the devil."
"He who has got the devil on his back has no great way to go to
him," said Patzuck quietly, without changing his position.
Vakoola fixed his eyes upon him as if searching for the meaning of
these words on his face. "What does he mean?" thought he, and
opened his mouth as if to swallow his first word. But Patzuck kept
silence. Here Vakoola noticed that there was no longer either tub or
tureen before him, but instead of them there stood upon the floor
two wooden pots, the one full of curd dumplings, the other full of
sour cream. Involuntarily his thoughts and his eyes became riveted
to these pots. "Well, now," thought he, "how will Patzuck eat the
dumplings? He will not bend down to catch them like the bits of
dough, and moreover, it is impossible; for they ought to be first
dipped into the cream." This thought had hardly crossed the mind of
Vakoola, when Patzuck opened his mouth, looked at the dumplings,
and then opened it still wider. Immediately, a dumpling jumped out
of the pot, dipped itself into the cream, turned over on the other
side, and went right into Patzuck's mouth. Patzuck ate it, once more
opened his mouth, and in went another dumpling in the same way.
All Patzuck had to do was to chew and to swallow them. "That is
wondrous indeed," thought the blacksmith, and astonishment made
him also open his mouth; but he felt directly, that a dumpling
jumped into it also, and that his lips were already smeared with
cream; he pushed it away, and after having wiped his lips, began to
think about the marvels that happen in the world and the wonders
one may work with the help of the devil; at the same time he felt
more than ever convinced that Patzuck alone could help him. "I will
beg of him still more earnestly to explain to me—but, what do I see?
to-day is a fast, and he is eating dumplings, and dumplings are not
food for fast days![19] What a fool I am! staying here and giving way
to temptation! Away, away!" and the pious blacksmith ran with all
speed out of the cottage. The devil, who remained all the while
sitting in the sack, and already rejoiced at the glorious victim he had
entrapped, could not endure to see him get free from his clutches.
As soon as the blacksmith left the sack a little loose, he sprang out
of it and sat upon the blacksmith's neck.
Vakoola felt a cold shudder run through all his frame; his courage
gave way, his face grew pale, he knew not what to do; he was
already on the point of making the sign of the cross; but the devil
bending his dog's muzzle to his right ear, whispered: "Here I am, I,
thy friend; I will do everything for a comrade and a friend such as
thou! I'll give thee as much money as thou canst wish for!"
squeaked he in his left ear. "No later than this very day Oxana shall
be ours!" continued he, turning his muzzle once more to the right
ear.
The blacksmith stood considering. "Well," said he, at length, "on this
condition I am ready to be thine."
The devil clapped his hand and began to indulge his joy in springing
about on the blacksmith's neck. "Now, I've caught him!" thought he
to himself, "Now, I'll take my revenge upon thee, my dear fellow, for
all thy paintings and all thy tales about devils! What will my fellows
say when they come to know that the most pious man in the village
is in my power?" and the devil laughed heartily at the thought of
how he would tease all the long-tailed breed in hell, and how the
lame devil, who was reputed the most cunning of them all for his
tricks, would feel provoked.
"Well, Vakoola!" squeaked he, while he continued sitting on
Vakoola's neck, as if fearing the blacksmith should escape; "thou
knowest well that nothing can be done without contract."
"I am ready," said the blacksmith. "I've heard that it is the custom
with you to write it in blood; well, stop, let me take a nail out of my
pocket"—and putting his hand behind him, he suddenly seized the
devil by his tail.
"Look, what fun!" cried the devil, laughing; "well, let me alone now,
there's enough of play!"
"Stop, my dear fellow!" cried the blacksmith, "what wilt thou say
now?" and he made the sign of the cross. The devil grew as docile
as a lamb. "Stop," continued the blacksmith, drawing him by the tail
down to the ground; "I will teach thee how to make good men and
upright Christians sin;" and the blacksmith sprang on his back, and
once more raised his hand to make the sign of the cross.
"Have mercy upon me, Vakoola!" groaned the devil in a lamentable
voice; "I am ready to do whatever thou wilt, only do not make the
dread, sign of the cross on me!"
"Ah! that is the strain thou singest now, cursed German that thou
art! I know now what to do! Take me a ride on thy back directly, and
harkee! a pretty ride must I have!"
"Whither?" gasped the mournful devil.
"To St. Petersburgh, straightway to the Czarina!" and the blacksmith
thought he should faint with terror as he felt himself rising up in the
air.
Oxana remained a long time pondering over the strange speech of
the blacksmith. Something within her told her that she had behaved
with too much cruelty towards him. "What if he should indeed resort
to some frightful decision? May not such a thing be expected! He
may, perhaps, fall in love with some other girl, and, out of spite,
proclaim her to be the belle of the village! No, that he would not do,
he is too much in love with me! I am so handsome! For none will he
ever leave me. He is only joking; he only feigns. Ten minutes will not
pass, ere he returns to look at me. I am indeed too harsh towards
him. Why not let him have a kiss? just as if it were against my will;
that, to a certainty would make him quite delighted!" and the flighty
belle began once more to sport with her friends. "Stop," said one of
them, "the blacksmith has left his sacks behind; just see what
enormous sacks too! His luck has been better than ours; methinks
he has got whole quarters of mutton, and sausages, and loaves
without number. Plenty indeed; one might feed upon the whole of
next fortnight."
"Are these the blacksmith's sacks?" asked Oxana; "let us take them
into my cottage just to see what he has got in them." All laughingly
agreed to her proposal.
"But we shall never be able to lift them!" cried the girls trying to
move the sacks.
"Stay a bit," said Oxana; "come with me to fetch a sledge, and we'll
drag them home on it."
The whole party ran to fetch a sledge.
The prisoners were far from pleased at sitting in the sacks,
notwithstanding that the clerk had succeeded in poking a great hole
with his finger. Had there been nobody near, he would perhaps have
found the means of making his escape; but he could not endure the
thought of creeping out of the' sack before a whole crowd, and of
being laughed at by every one, so he resolved to await the event,
giving only now and then a suppressed groan under the impolite
boots of Choop. Choop had no less a desire to be set free, feeling
that there was something lying under him, which was excessively
inconvenient to sit upon. But on hearing his daughter's decision he
remained quiet and no longer felt inclined to creep out, considering
that he would have certainly some hundred, or perhaps even two
hundred steps to walk to get to his dwelling; that upon creeping out,
he would have his sheepskin coat to button, his belt to buckle—what
a trouble! and last of all, that he had left his cap behind him at
Solokha's. So he thought it better to wait till the maidens drew him
home on a sledge.
The event, however, proved to be quite contrary to his expectations;
at the same time that the maidens ran to bring the sledge, Choop's
kinsman left the brandy shop, very cross and dejected. The mistress
of the shop would on no account give him credit; he had resolved to
wait until some kind-hearted Cossack should step in and offer him a
glass of brandy; but, as if purposely, all the Cossacks remained at
home, and as became good Christians, ate kootia with their families.
Thinking about the corruption of manners, and about the Jewish
mistress of the shop having a wooden heart, the kinsman went
straight to the sacks and stopped in amazement. "What sacks are
these? somebody has left them on the road," said he, looking round.
"There must be pork for a certainty in them! Who can it be? who has
had the good luck to get so many donations? Were there nothing
more than buckwheat cakes and millet-biscuits—why, that would be
well enough! But supposing there were only loaves, well, they are
welcome too! The Jewess gives a glass of brandy for every loaf. I
had better bring them out of the way at once, lest anybody should
see them!" and he lifted on his shoulders the sack in which sate
Choop and the clerk, but feeling it to be too heavy, "No," said he, "I
could not carry it home alone. Now, here comes, as if purposely, the
weaver, Shapoovalenko! Good evening, Ostap!"
"Good evening," said the weaver, stopping.
"Where art thou going?"
"I am walking without any purpose, just where my legs carry me."
"Well, my good man, help me to carry off these sacks; some caroller
has left them here in the midst of the road. We will divide the booty
between us."
"And what is there in the sacks? rolls or loaves?"
"Plenty of everything, I should think." And both hastily snatched
sticks out of a palisade, laid one of the sacks upon them, and carried
it away on their shoulders.
"Where shall we carry it? to the brandy shop?" asked the weaver,
leading the way.
"I thought, too, of carrying it there; but the vile Jewess will not give
us credit; she will think we have stolen it somewhere, the more so
that I have just left her shop. We had better carry it to my cottage.
Nobody will interfere with us; my wife is not at home."
"Art thou sure that she is not at home?" asked the weaver warily.
"Thank Heaven, I am not yet out of my mind," answered the
kinsman; "what should I do there if she were at home? I expect she
will ramble about all night with the women."
"Who is there!" cried the kinsman's wife, hearing the noise which the
two friends made in coming into the passage with the sack.
The kinsman was quite aghast.
"What now?" muttered the weaver, letting his arms drop.
The kinsman's wife was one of those treasures which are often
found in this good world of ours. Like her husband, she scarcely ever
remained at home, but went all day long fawning among wealthy,
gossiping old women; paid them different compliments, ate their
donations with great appetite, and beat her husband only in the
morning, because it was the only time that she saw him. Their
cottage was even older than the trowsers of the village scribe. Many
holes in the roof remained uncovered and without thatch; of the
palisade round the house, few remnants existed, for no one who
was going out, ever took with him a stick to drive away the dogs,
but went round by the kinsman's kitchen garden, and got one out of
his palisade. Sometimes no fire was lighted in the cottage for three
days together. Everything which the affectionate wife succeeded in
obtaining from kind people, was hidden by her as far as possible out
of the reach of her husband; and if he had got anything which he
had not had the time to sell at the brandy shop, she invariably
snatched it from him. However meek the kinsman's temper might
be, he did not like to yield to her at once; for which reason, he
generally left the house with black eyes, and his dear better-half
went moaning to tell stories to the old women about the ill conduct
of her husband, and the blows she had received at his hands.
Now, it is easy to understand the displeasure of the weaver and the
kinsman at her sudden appearance. Putting the sack on the ground,
they took up a position of defence in front of it, and covered it with
the wide skirts of their coats; but it was already too late. The
kinsman's wife, although her old eyes had grown dim, saw the sack
at once. "That's good," she said, with the countenance of a hawk at
the sight of its prey! "that's good of you to have collected so much;
That's the way good people always behave! But it cannot be! I think
you must have stolen it somewhere; show me directly what you
have got there!—show me the sack directly! Do you hear me?"
"May the bald devil show it to thee! we will not," answered the
kinsman, assuming an air of dogged resolution.
"Why should we?" said the weaver—"the sack is ours, not thine."
"Thou shalt show it to me, thou good-for-nothing drunkard," said
she, giving the tall kinsman a blow under his chin, and pushing her
way to the sack. The kinsman and the weaver, however, stood her
attack courageously, and drove her back; but had hardly time to
recover themselves, when the woman darted once more into the
passage, this time with a poker in her hand. In no time she gave a
cut over her husband's fingers, another on the weaver's hand, and
stood beside the sack.
"Why did we let her go?" said the weaver, coming to his senses.
"Why did we indeed? and why didst thou?" said the kinsman.
"Your poker seems to be an iron one!" said the weaver, after keeping
silent for a while, and scratching his back. "My wife bought one at
the fair last year; well, hers is not to be compared—does not hurt at
all."
The triumphant dame, in the meanwhile, set her candle on the floor,
opened the sack, and looked into it.
But her old eyes, which had so quickly caught sight of the sack, for
this time deceived her. "Why, here lies a whole boar!" cried she,
clapping her hands with delight.
"A boar, a whole boar! dost hear?" said the weaver, giving the
kinsman a push. "And thou alone art to blame?"
"What's to be done?" muttered the kinsman, shrugging his
shoulders.
"How, what? why are we standing here quietly? we must have the
sack back again! Come!"
"Away, away with thee! it is our boar!" cried the weaver, advancing.
"Away, away with thee, she devil! it is not thy property," said the
kinsman.
The old hag once more took up the poker, but at the same moment
Choop stepped out of the sack, and stood in the middle of the
passage stretching his limbs like a man just awake from a long
sleep.
The kinsman's wife shrieked in terror, while the others opened their
mouths in amazement.
"What did she say, then, the old fool—that it was a boar?"
"It's not a boar!" said the kinsman, straining his eyes.
"Just see, what a man some one has thrown into the sack," said the
weaver, stepping back in a fright. "They may say what they will—the
evil spirit must have lent his hand to the work; the man could never
have gone through a window."
"'Tis my kinsman," cried the kinsman, after having looked at Choop.
"And who else should it be, then?" said Choop, laughing. "Was it not
a capital trick of mine? And you thought of eating me like pork?
Well, I'll give you good news: there is something lying at the bottom
of the sack; if it be not a boar, it must be a sucking-pig, or
something of the sort. All the time there was something moving
under me."
The weaver and the kinsman rushed to the sack, the wife caught
hold of it on the other side, and the fight would have been renewed,
had not the clerk, who saw no escape left, crept out of the sack.
The kinsman's wife, quite stupified, let go the clerk's leg, which she
had taken hold of, in order to drag him out of the sack.
"There's another one!" cried the weaver with terror; "the devil
knows what happens now in the world—it's enough to send one
mad. No more sausages or loaves—men are thrown into the sacks."
"'Tis the devil!" muttered Choop, more astonished than any one.
"Well now, Solokha!— and to put the clerk in a sack too! That is why
I saw her room all full of sacks. Now, I have it: she has got two men
in each of them; and I thought that I was the only one. Well now,
Solokha!"
The maidens were somewhat astonished at finding only one sack
left. "There is nothing to be done; we must content ourselves with
this one," said Oxana. They all went at once to the sack, and
succeeded in lifting it upon the sledge. The elder resolved to keep
quiet, considering that if he cried out, and asked them to undo the
sack, and let him out, the stupid girls would run away, fearing they
had got the devil in the sack, and he would be left in the street till
the next morning. Meanwhile, the maidens, with one accord, taking
one another by the hand, flew like the wind with the sledge over the
crisp snow. Many of them, for fun, sat down upon the sledge; some
went right upon the elder's head. But he was determined to bear
everything. At last they reached Oxana's house, opened the doors of
the passage and of the room, and with shouts of laughter brought in
the sack. "Let us see what we have got here," cried they, and hastily
began to undo the sack. At this juncture, the hiccups of the elder
(which had not ceased for a moment all the time he had been sitting
in the sack), increased to such a degree that he could not refrain
from giving vent to them in the loudest key. "Ah! there is somebody
in the sack!" shrieked the maidens, and they darted in a fright
towards the door.
"What does this mean?" said Choop, stepping in. "Where are you
rushing, like mad things?"
"Ah! father," answered Oxana, "there is somebody sitting in the
sack!"
"In what sack? Where did you get this sack from?"
"The blacksmith threw it down in the middle of the road," was the
answer.
"I thought as much!" muttered Choop. "Well, what are you afraid of,
then? Let us see. Well, my good man (excuse me for not calling thee
by thy Christian and surname), please to make thy way out of the
sack."
The elder came out.
"Lord have mercy upon us!" cried the maidens.
"The elder was in, too!" thought Choop to himself, looking at him
from head to foot, as if not trusting his eyes. "There now! Eh!" and
he could say no more. The elder felt no less confused, and he knew
not what to say. "It seems to be rather cold out of doors?" asked he,
turning to Choop.
"Yes! the frost is rather severe," answered Choop. "Do tell me, what
dost thou use to black thy boots with: tallow or tar?"[20] He did not
at all wish to put this question; he intended to ask—How didst thou
come to be in this sack? but he knew not himself how it was that his
tongue asked quite another question.
"I prefer tar," answered the elder. "Well, good-bye, Choop," said he,
and putting his cap on, he stepped out of the room.
"What a fool I was to ask him what he uses to black his boots with,"
muttered Choop, looking at the door out of which the elder had just
gone.
"Well, Solokha! To put such a man into a sack! May the devil take
her; and I, fool that I was—but where is that infernal sack?"
"I threw it into the corner," said Oxana, "there is nothing more in it."
"I know these tricks well! Nothing in it, indeed! Give it me directly;
there must be one more! Shake it well. Is there nobody? Abominable
woman! And yet to look at her one would think she must be a saint,
that she never had a sin"—
But let us leave Choop giving vent to his anger, and return to the
blacksmith; the more so as time is running away, and by the clock it
must be near nine.
At first, Vakoola could not help feeling afraid at rising to such a
height, that he could distinguish nothing upon the earth, and at
coming so near the moon, that if he had not bent down, he would
certainly have touched it with his cap. Yet, after a time, he recovered
his presence of mind, and began to laugh at the devil. All was bright
in the sky. A light silvery mist covered the transparent air. Everything
was distinctly visible; and the blacksmith even noticed how a wizard
flew past him, sitting in a pot; how some stars, gathered in a group,
played at blind man's buff; how a whole swarm of spirits were
whirling about in the distance; how a devil who danced in the
moonbeam, seeing him riding, took off his cap and made him a bow;
how there was a besom flying, on which, apparently, a witch had
just taken a ride. They met many other things; and all, on seeing the
blacksmith, stopped for a moment to look at him, and then
continued their flight far away. The blacksmith went on flying, and
suddenly he saw Petersburgh all in a blaze. (There must have been
an illumination that day.) Flying past the town gate, the devil
changed into a horse, and the blacksmith saw himself riding a high
stepping steed, in the middle of the street. "Good Heavens! What a
noise, what a clatter, what a blaze!" On either side rose houses,
several stories high; from every quarter the clatter of horses' hoofs,
and of wheels, arose like thunder; at every step arose tall houses, as
if starting from beneath the ground; bridges quivered under flying
carriages; the coachmen shouted; the snow crisped under thousands
of sledges rushing in every direction; pedestrians kept the wall of
the houses along the footpath, all studded with flaring pots of fire,
and their gigantic shadows danced upon the walls, losing themselves
amongst the chimneys and on the roofs. The blacksmith looked with
amazement on every side. It seamed to him as if all the houses
looked at him with their innumerable fire-eyes. He saw such a
number of gentlemen wearing fur cloaks covered with cloth, that he
no longer knew to which of them he ought to take off his cap.
"Gracious Lord! What a number of nobility one sees here!" thought
the blacksmith; "I suppose every one here, who goes in a fur cloak,
can be no less than a magistrate! and as for the persons who sit in
those wonderful carts with glasses, they must be, if not the chiefs of
the town, certainly commissaries, and, may be, of a still higher
rank!"
Here, the devil put an end to his reflections, by asking if he was to
bring him right before the Czarina? "No, I should be too afraid to go
at once," answered the blacksmith; "but I know there must be some
Zaporoghians here, who passed through Dikanka last autumn on
their way to Petersburgh. They were going on business to the
Czarina. Let us have their advice. Now, devil, get into my pocket,
and bring me to those Zaporoghians." In less than a minute, the
devil grew so thin and so small, that he had no trouble in getting
into the pocket, and in the twinkling of an eye, Vakoola, (himself, he
knew not how) ascended a staircase, opened a door and fell a little
back, struck by the rich furniture of a spacious room. Yet, he felt a
little more at ease, when he recognised the same Zaporoghians, who
had passed through Dikanka. They were sitting upon silk covered
sofas, with their tar besmeared boots tucked under them, and were
smoking the strongest tobacco fibres.
"Good evening, God help you, your worships!" said the blacksmith
coming nearer, and he made a low bow, almost touching the ground
with his forehead.
"Who is that?" asked a Zaporoghian, who sat near Vakoola, of
another who was sitting farther off.
"Do you not recognise me at once?" said Vakoola; "I am the
blacksmith, Vakoola! Last autumn, as you passed through Dikanka,
you remained nearly two days at my cottage. God grant you good
health, and many happy years! It was I who put a new iron tire
round one of the fore wheels of your vehicle."
"Ah!" said the same Zaporoghian, "it is the blacksmith who paints so
well. Good evening, countryman, what didst thou come for?"
"Only just to look about. They say"—
"Well, my good fellow," said the Zaporoghian, assuming a grand air,
and trying to speak with the high Russian accent, "what dost thou
think of the town! Is it large?"
The blacksmith was no less desirous to show that he also
understood good manners. We have already seen that he knew
something of fashionable language. "The site is quite considerable,"
answered he very composedly. "The houses are enormously big, the
paintings they are adorned with, are thoroughly important. Some of
the houses are to an extremity ornamented with gold letters. No one
can say a word to the contrary: the proportion is marvellous!" The
Zaporoghians, hearing the blacksmith so familiar with fine language,
drew a conclusion very much to his advantage.
"We will have a chat with thee presently, my dear fellow. Now, we
must go at once to the Czarina."
"To the Czarina? Be kind, your worships, take me with you!"
"Take thee with us?" said the Zaporoghian, with an expression such
as a tutor would assume towards a boy four years old, who begs to
ride on a real, live, great horse.
"What hast thou to do there? No, it cannot be," and his features
took an important look. "My dear fellow, we have to speak to the
Czarina on business."
"Do take me," urged the blacksmith. "Beg!" whispered he to the
devil, striking his pocket with his fist. Scarcely had he done so, when
another Zaporoghian said, "Well, come, comrades, we will take him."
"Well, then, let him come!" said the others. "Put on such a dress as
ours, then."
The blacksmith hastily donned a green dress, when the door
opened, and a man, in a coat all ornamented with silver braid, came
in and said it was time to start.
Once more was the blacksmith overwhelmed with astonishment, as
he rolled along in an enormous carriage, hung on springs, lofty
houses seeming to run away on both sides of him, and the
pavement to roll of its own accord under the feet of the horses.
"Gracious Lord! what a glare," thought the blacksmith to himself.
"We have no such light at Dikanka, even during the day." The
Zaporoghians entered, stepped into a magnificent hall, and went up
a brilliantly lighted staircase. "What a staircase!" thought the
blacksmith; "it is a pity to walk upon it. What ornaments! And they
say that fairy-tales are so many lies; they are plain truth! My
heavens! what a balustrade! what workmanship! The iron alone
must have cost not less than some fifty roubles!"
Having ascended the staircase, the Zaporoghians passed through the
first hall. Warily did the blacksmith follow them, fearing at every step
to slip on the waxed floor. They passed three more saloons, and the
blacksmith had not yet recovered from his astonishment. Coming
into a fourth, he could not refrain from stopping before a picture
which hung on the wall. It represented the Holy Virgin, with the
Infant Jesus in her arms. "What a picture! what beautiful painting!"
thought he. "She seems to speak, she seems to be alive! And the
Holy Infant! there, he stretches out his little hands! there, it laughs,
the poor babe! And what colours! Good heavens! what colours! I
should think there was no ochre used in the painting, certainly
nothing but ultramarine and lake! And what a brilliant blue! Capital
workmanship! The back-ground must have been done with white
lead! And yet," he continued, stepping to the door and taking the
handle in his hand, "however beautiful these paintings may be, this
brass handle is still more worthy of admiration; what neat work! I
should think all this must have been made by German blacksmiths at
the most exorbitant prices." ... The blacksmith might have gone on
for a long time with his reflections, had not the attendant in the
braid-covered dress given him a push, telling him not to remain
behind the others. The Zaporoghians passed two rooms more, and
stopped. Some generals, in gold-embroidered uniforms, were waiting
there. The Zaporoghians bowed in every direction, and stood in a
group. A minute afterwards there entered, attended by a numerous
suite, a man of majestic stature, rather stout, dressed in the
hetman's uniform and yellow boots. His hair was uncombed; one of
his eyes had a small cataract on it; his face wore an expression of
stately pride; his every movement gave proof that he was
accustomed to command. All the generals, who before his arrival
were strutting about somewhat haughtily in their gold-embroidered
uniforms, came bustling towards him with profound bows, seeming
to watch every one of his words, nay, of his movements, that they
might run and see his desires fulfilled. The hetman did not pay any
attention to all this, scarcely nodding his head, and went straight to
the Zaporoghians.
They bowed to him with one accord till their brows touched the
ground.
"Are all of you here?" asked he, in a somewhat drawling voice, with
a slight nasal twang.
"Yes, father, every one of us is here," answered the Zaporoghians,
bowing once more.
"Remember to speak just as I taught you."
"We will, father, we will!"
"Is it the Czar?" asked the blacksmith of one of the Zaporoghians.
"The Czar! a great deal more; it is Potemkin himself!" was the
answer.
Voices were heard in the adjoining room, and the blacksmith knew
not where to turn his eyes, when he saw a multitude of ladies enter,
dressed in silk gowns with long trains, and courtiers in gold-
embroidered coats and bag wigs. He was dazzled with the glitter of
gold, silver, and precious stones. The Zaporoghians fell with one
accord on their knees, and cried with one voice, "Mother, have
mercy upon us!" The blacksmith, too, followed their example, and
stretched himself full length on the floor.
"Rise up!" was heard above their heads, in a commanding yet soft
voice. Some of the courtiers officiously hastened to push the
Zaporoghians.
"We will not arise, mother; we will die rather than arise!" cried the
Zaporoghians.
Potemkin bit his lips. At last he came himself, and whispered
imperatively to one of them. They arose. Then only did the
blacksmith venture to raise his eyes, and saw before him a lady, not
tall, somewhat stout, with powdered hair, blue eyes, and that
majestic, smiling air, which conquered every one, and could be the
attribute only of a reigning woman.
"His Highness[21] promised to make me acquainted to-day with a
people under my dominion, whom I have not yet seen," said the
blue-eyed lady, looking with curiosity at the Zaporoghians. "Are you
satisfied with the manner in which you are provided for here?" asked
she, coming nearer.
"Thank thee, mother! Provisions are good, though mutton is not
quite so fine here as at home; but why should one be so very
particular about it?"
Potemkin frowned at hearing them speak in quite a different manner
to what he had told them to do.
One of the Zaporoghians stepped out from the group, and, in a
dignified manner, began the following speech:—"Mother, have mercy
upon us! What have we, thy faithful people, done to deserve thine
anger? Have we ever given assistance to the miscreant Tartars? Did
we ever help the Turks in anything? Have we betrayed thee in our
acts, nay, even in our thoughts? Wherefore, then, art thou
ungracious towards us? At first they told us thou hadst ordered
fortresses to be raised against us; then we were told thou wouldst
make regular regiments of us; now, we hear of new evils coming on
us. In what were the Zaporoghians ever in fault with regard to thee?
Was it in bringing thy army across Perekop? or in helping thy
generals to get the better of the Crimean Tartars?"
Potemkin remained silent, and, with an unconcerned air, was
brushing the diamonds which sparkled on his fingers.
"What do you ask for, then?" demanded Catherine, in a solicitous
tone of voice.
The Zaporoghians looked knowingly at one another.
"Now's the time! the Czarina asks what we want!" thought the
blacksmith, and suddenly down he went on his knees. "Imperial
Majesty! Do not show me thy anger, show me thy mercy! Let me
know (and let not my question bring the wrath of thy Majesty's
worship upon me!) of what stuff are made the boots that thou
wearest on thy feet? I think there is no bootmaker in any country in
the world who ever will be able to make such pretty ones. Gracious
Lord! if ever my wife had such boots to wear!"
The empress laughed; the courtiers laughed too. Potemkin frowned
and smiled at the same time. The Zaporoghians pushed the
blacksmith, thinking he had gone mad.
"Stand up!" said the empress, kindly. "If thou wishest to have such
shoes, thy wish may be easily fulfilled. Let him have directly my
richest gold embroidered shoes. This artlessness pleases me
exceedingly." Then, turning towards a gentleman with a round pale
face, who stood a little apart from the rest, and whose plain dress,
with mother-of-pearl buttons, showed at once that he was not a
courtier[22]: "There you have," continued she, "a subject worthy of
your witty pen."
"Your Imperial Majesty is too gracious! It would require a pen no
less able than that of a Lafontaine!" answered with a bow, the
gentleman in the plain dress.
"Upon my honour! I tell you I am still under the impression of your
'Brigadier.'[1] You read exceedingly well!" Then, speaking once more
to the Zaporoghians, she said, "I was told that you never married at
your Ssiecha?"
"How could that be, mother? Thou knowest well, by thyself, that no
man could ever do without a woman," answered the same
Zaporoghian who had conversed with the blacksmith; and the
blacksmith was astonished to hear one so well acquainted with
polished language speak to the Czarina, as if on purpose, in the
coarsest accent used among peasants.
"A cunning people," thought he to himself; "he does it certainly for
some reason."
"We are no monks," continued the speaker, "we are sinful men.
Every one of us is as much inclined to forbidden fruit as a good
Christian can be. There are not a few among us who have wives,
only their wives do not live in the Ssiecha. Many have their wives in
Poland; others have wives in Ukraine;[23] there are some, too, who
have wives in Turkey."
At this moment the shoes were brought to the blacksmith.
"Gracious Lord! what ornaments!" cried he, overpowered with joy,
grasping the shoes. "Imperial Majesty! if thou dost wear such shoes
upon thy feet (and thy Honour, I dare say, does use them even for
walking in the snow and the mud), what, then, must thy feet be
like?—whiter than sugar, at the least, I should think!"
The empress, who really had charming feet of an exquisite shape,
could not refrain from smiling at such a compliment from a simple-
minded blacksmith, who, notwithstanding his sunburnt features must
have been accounted a handsome lad in his Zaporoghian dress.
The blacksmith, encouraged by the condescension of the Czarina,
was already on the point of asking her some questions about all
sorts of things, whether it was true that sovereigns fed upon nothing
but honey and lard, and so on; but feeling the Zaporoghians pull the
skirts of his coat, he resolved to keep silent; and when the empress
turned to the older Cossacks, and began to ask them about their
way of living, and their manners in the Ssiecha, he stepped a little
back, bent his head towards his pocket, and said in a low voice:
"Quick, carry me hence, away!" and in no time he had left the town
gate far behind.
"He is drowned! I'll swear to it, he's drowned! May I never leave this
spot alive, if he is not drowned!" said the fat weaver's wife, standing
in the middle of the street, amidst a group of the villagers' wives.
"Then I am a liar? Did I ever steal anything? Did I ever cast an evil-
eye upon any one? that I am no longer worthy of belief?" shrieked a
hag wearing a Cossack's dress, and with a violet-coloured nose,
brandishing her hands in the most violent manner: "May I never
have another drink of water if old Pereperchenko's wife did not see
with her own eyes, how that the blacksmith has hanged himself!"
"The blacksmith hanged himself? what is this I hear?" said the elder,
stepping out of Choop's cottage; and he pushed his way nearer to
the talking women.
"Say rather, mayest thou never wish to drink brandy again, old
drunkard!" answered the weaver's wife. "One must be as mad as
thou art to hang one's self. He is drowned! drowned in the ice hole!
This I know as well as that thou just now didst come from the
brandy-shop!"
"Shameless creature! what meanest thou to reproach me with?"
angrily retorted the hag with the violet-coloured nose, "thou hadst
better hold thy tongue, good-for-nothing woman! Don't I know that
the clerk comes every evening to thee?"
The weaver's wife became red in the face. "What does the clerk do?
to whom does the clerk come? What lie art thou telling?"
"The clerk?" cried, in shrill voice, the clerk's wife, who, dressed in a
hare-skin cloak covered with blue nankeen, pushed her way towards
the quarrelling ones; "I will let you know about the clerk! Who is
talking here about the clerk?
"There is she to whom the clerk pays his visits!" said the violet-
nosed woman, pointing to the weaver's wife.
"So, thou art the witch," continued the clerk's wife stepping nearer
the weaver's wife; "thou art the witch who sends him out of his
senses and gives him a charmed beverage in order to bewitch him?"
"Wilt thou leave me alone, she-devil!" cried the weaver's wife,
drawing back.
"Cursed witch! Mayest thou never see thy children again, good-for-
nothing woman!" and the clerk's wife spat right into the eyes of the
weaver's wife.
The weaver's wife wished to return her the same compliment, but
instead of that, spat on the unshaven beard of the elder, who had
come near the squabblers in order to hear what was going on. "Ah!
nasty creature!" cried the elder, wiping his face with his skirt, and
lifting his whip. This motion made them all fly in different directions,
scolding the whole time. "The abominable creature" continued the
elder, still wiping his beard. "So the blacksmith is drowned! Gracious
Heaven! and such a capital painter! and what strong knives, and
sickles, and ploughshares he used to forge! How strong he was
himself!"
"Yes," continued he, meditatively, "there are few such men in our
village! That was the reason of the poor fellow's ill-temper, which I
noticed while I was sitting in that confounded sack! So much for the
blacksmith! He was here, and now nothing is left of him! And I was
thinking of letting him shoe my speckled mare,".... and, full of such
Christian thoughts, the elder slowly went to his cottage.
Oxana was very downcast at hearing the news; she did not put any
faith in the evidence of Pereperchenko's wife, or in the gossiping of
the women. She knew the blacksmith to be too pious to venture on
letting his soul perish. But what if indeed he had left the village with
the resolve never to return? And scarcely could there be found
anywhere such an accomplished lad as the blacksmith. And he loved
her so intensely! He had endured her caprices longer than any one
else. All the night long, the belle turned beneath her coverlet, from
right to left, and from left to right, and could not go to sleep. Now
she scolded herself almost aloud, throwing herself into the most
bewitching attitudes, which the darkness of the night hid even from
herself; then, in silence, she resolved to think no more of anything,
and still continued thinking, and was burning with fever; and in the
morning she was quite in love with the blacksmith.
Choop was neither grieved nor rejoiced at the fate of Vakoola; all his
ideas had concentrated themselves into one: he could not for a
moment forget Solokha's want of faith; and even when asleep,
ceased not to abuse her.
The morning came; the church was crowded even before daylight.
The elderly women, in their white linen veils, their flowing robes,
and long jackets made of white cloth, piously made the sign of the
cross, standing close to the entrance of the church. The Cossacks'
wives, in green and yellow bodices, and some of them even in blue
dresses, with gold braidings behind, stood a little before them. The
girls endeavoured to get still nearer to the altar, and displayed whole
shopfuls of ribbons on their heads, and of necklaces, little crosses,
and silver coins on their necks. But right in front stood the Cossacks
and the peasants, with their mustachios, their crown-tufts, their
thick necks and their freshly-shaven chins, dressed for the most part
in cloaks with hoods, from beneath which were seen white, and
sometimes blue coats. On every face, wherever one looked, one
might see it was a holiday. The elder already licked his lips at the
idea of breaking his fast with a sausage. The girls were thinking
about the pleasure of running about with the lads, and skating upon
the ice. The old women muttered their prayers more zealously than
ever. The whole church resounded with the thumps which the
Cossack Sverbygooze gave with his forehead against the ground.
Oxana alone was out of sorts. She said her prayers, and yet could
not pray. Her heart was besieged by so many different feelings, one
more mournful than the other, one more perplexing than the other,
that the greatest dejection appeared upon her features, and tears
moistened her eyes. None of the girls could understand the reason
of her state, and none would have suspected its being occasioned by
the blacksmith. And yet Oxana was not the only one who noticed his
absence; the whole congregation remarked that there lacked
something to the fulness of the festival. Moreover, the clerk, during
his journey in the sack, had got a bad cold, and his cracked voice
was hardly audible. The newly arrived chanter had a deep bass
indeed. But at all events, it would have been much better if the
blacksmith had been there, as he had so fine a voice, and knew how
to chant the tunes which were used at Poltava; and besides, he was
churchwarden.
The matins were said. The liturgy had also been brought to a close.
Well, what had indeed happened to the blacksmith?
The devil, with the blacksmith on his back, had flown with still
greater speed during the remainder of the night. Vakoola soon
reached his cottage. At the very moment he heard the crow of a
cock. "Whither away?" cried he, seeing the devil in the act of
sneaking off; and he caught him by his tail. "Wait a bit my dear
fellow; I have not done with thee; thou must get thy reward!" and,
taking a stick, he gave him three blows across his back, so that the
poor devil took to his heels, exactly as a peasant might do who had
just been punished by a police officer. So, the enemy of mankind,
instead of cheating, seducing, or leading anybody into foolishness,
was made a fool of himself. After this, Vakoola went into the
passage, buried himself in the hay, and slept till noon.
When he awoke, he was alarmed at seeing the sun high in the
heavens: "I have missed matins and liturgy!" and the pious
blacksmith fell into mournful thoughts, and decided that the sleep
which had prevented him from going to church on such a festival
was certainly a punishment inflicted by God for his sinful intention of
killing himself. But he soon quieted his mind by resolving to confess
no later than next week, and from that very day to make fifty
genuflexions during his prayers for a whole year. Then he went into
the room, but nobody was there; Solokha had not yet returned