the witch and other stories(女巫)-第19节
按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页，按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页，按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部！
————未阅读完？加入书签已便下次继续阅读！
is hateful to me！〃
Feeling that his tongue was uttering something quite different from
what he wanted to say； the bailiff waved his hand and said bitterly：
〃If the world's going to end I wish it would make haste about it。
There's no need to drag it out and make folks miserable for nothing。 。 。 。〃
The old man took the pipe from his lips and； screwing up one eye；
looked into its little opening。 His face was sad and covered with thick
drops like tears。 He smiled and said：
〃It's a pity； my friend！ My goodness； what a pity！ The earth； the forest；
the sky； the beasts of all sorts all this has been created； you know；
adapted； they all have their intelligence。 It is all going to ruin。 And most of
all I am sorry for people。〃
There was the sound in the wood of heavy rain coming nearer。 Meliton
looked in the direction of the sound； did up all his buttons； and said：
〃I am going to the village。 Good…bye； grandfather。 What is your
name？〃
〃Luka the Poor。〃
〃Well； good…bye； Luka！ Thank you for your good words。 Damka； ici！〃
After parting from the shepherd Meliton made his way along the edge
of the wood； and then down hill to a meadow which by degrees turned into
a marsh。 There was a squelch of water under his feet； and the rusty marsh
sedge； still green and juicy； drooped down to the earth as though afraid of
being trampled underfoot。 Beyond the marsh； on the bank of the
Pestchanka； of which the old man had spoken； stood a row of willows； and
beyond the willows a barn looked dark blue in the mist。 One could feel the
approach of that miserable； utterly inevitable season； when the fields grow
dark and the earth is muddy and cold； when the weeping willow seems
still more mournful and tears trickle down its stem； and only the cranes fly
away from the general misery； and even they； as though afraid of insulting
dispirited nature by the expression of their happiness； fill the air with their
mournful； dreary notes。
67
… Page 68…
THE WITCH AND OTHER STORIES
Meliton plodded along to the river； and heard the sounds of the pipe
gradually dying away behind him。 He still wanted to complain。 He looked
dejectedly about him； and he felt insufferably sorry for the sky and the
earth and the sun and the woods and his Damka； and when the highest
drawn…out note of the pipe floated quivering in the air； like a voice
weeping； he felt extremely bitter and resentful of the impropriety in the
conduct of nature。
The high note quivered； broke off； and the pipe was silent。
68
… Page 69…
THE WITCH AND OTHER STORIES
AGAFYA
DURING my stay in the district of S。 I often used to go to see the
watchman Savva Stukatch； or simply Savka； in the kitchen gardens of
Dubovo。 These kitchen gardens were my favorite resort for so…called
〃mixed〃 fishing； when one goes out without knowing what day or hour
one may return； taking with one every sort of fishing tackle as well as a
store of provisions。 To tell the truth； it was not so much the fishing that
attracted me as the peaceful stroll； the meals at no set time； the talk with
Savka； and being for so long face to face with the calm summer nights。
Savka was a young man of five…and…twenty； well grown and handsome；
and as strong as a flint。 He had the reputation of being a sensible and
reasonable fellow。 He could read and write； and very rarely drank； but as a
workman this strong and healthy young man was not worth a farthing。 A
sluggish； overpowering sloth was mingled with the strength in his muscles；
which were strong as cords。 Like everyone else in his village； he lived in
his own hut； and had his share of land； but neither tilled it nor sowed it；
and did not work at any sort of trade。 His old mother begged alms at
people's windows and he himself lived like a bird of the air； he did not
know in the morning what he would eat at midday。 It was not that he was
lacking in will； or energy； or feeling for his mother； it was simply that he
felt no inclination for work and did not recognize the advantage of it。 His
whole figure suggested unruffled serenity； an innate； almost artistic
passion for living carelessly； never with his sleeves tucked up。 When
Savka's young； healthy body had a physical craving for muscular work；
the young man abandoned himself completely for a brief interval to some
free but nonsensical pursuit； such as sharpening skates not wanted for any
special purpose； or racing about after the peasant women。 His favorite
attitude was one of concentrated immobility。 He was capable of standing
for hours at a stretch in the same place with his eyes fixed on the same
spot without stirring。 He never moved except on impulse； and then only
when an occasion presented itself for some rapid and abrupt action：
catching a running dog by the tail； pulling off a woman's k erchief； or
jumping over a big hole。 It need hardly be said that with such parsimony
69
… Page 70…
THE WITCH AND OTHER STORIES
of movement Savka was as poor as a mouse and lived worse than any
homeless outcast。 As time went on； I suppose he accumulated arrears of
taxes and； young and sturdy as he was； he was sent by the commune to do
an old man's job to be watchman and scarecrow in the kitchen gardens。
However much they laughed at him for his premature senility he did not
object to it。 This position； quiet and convenient for motionless
contemplation； exactly fitted his temperament。
It happened I was with this Savka one fine May evening。 I remember I
was lying on a torn and dirty sackcloth cover close to the shanty from
which came a heavy； fragrant scent of hay。 Clasping my hands under my
head I looked before me。 At my feet was lying a wooden fork。 Behind it
Savka's dog Kutka stood out like a black patch； and not a dozen feet from
Kutka the ground ended abruptly in the steep bank of the little river。 Lying
down I could not see the river； I could only see the tops of the young
willows growing thickly on the nearer bank； and the twisting； as it were
gnawed away； edges of the opposite bank。 At a distance beyond the bank
on the dark hillside the huts of the village in which Savka lived lay
huddling together like frightened young partridges。 Beyond the hill the
afterglow of sunset still lingered in the sky。 One pale crimson streak was
all that was left； and even that began to be covered by little clouds as a fire
with ash。
A copse with alder…trees； softly whispering； and from time to time
shuddering in the fitful breeze； lay； a dark blur； on the right of the kitchen
gardens； on the left stretched the immense plain。 In the distance； where the
eye could not distinguish between the sky and the plain； there was a bright
gleam of light。 A little way off from me sat Savka。 With his legs tucked
under him like a Turk and his head hanging； he looked pensively at Kutka。
Our hooks with live bait on them had long been in the river； and we had
nothing left to do but to abandon ourselves to repose； which Savka； who
was never exhausted and always rested； loved so much。 The glow had not
yet quite died away； but the summer night was already enfolding nature in
its caressing； soothing embrace。
Everything was sinking into its first deep sleep except some night bird
unfamiliar to me； which indolently uttered a long； protracted cry in several
70
… Page 71…
THE WITCH AND OTHER STORIES
distinct notes like the phrase； 〃Have you seen Ni…ki…ta？〃 and immediately
answered itself； 〃Seen him； seen him； seen him！〃
〃Why is it the nightingales aren't singing tonight？〃 I asked Savka。
He turned slowly towards me。 His features were large； but his face was
open； soft； and expressive as a woman's。
