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and frightened； while the lowest notes for some reason reminded
him of the mist； the dejected trees； the grey sky。 Such music
seemed in keeping with the weather； the old man and his sayings。
Meliton wanted to complain。 He went up to the old man and；
looking at his mournful； mocking face and at the pipe； muttered：
〃And life has grown worse； grandfather。 It is utterly impossible
to live。 Bad crops； want。 。 。 。 Cattle plague continually；
diseases of all sorts。 。 。 。 We are crushed by poverty。〃
The bailiff's puffy face turned crimson and took a dejected；
womanish expression。 He twirled his fingers as though seeking
words to convey his vague feeling and went on：
〃Eight children； a wife 。 。 。 and my mother still living； and my
whole salary ten roubles a month and to board myself。 My wife has
become a Satan from poverty。 。 。 。 I go off drinking myself。 I am
a sensible； steady man； I have education。 I ought to sit at home
in peace； but I stray about all day with my gun like a dog
because it is more than I can stand； my home 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。
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。
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 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 wa