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the witch and other stories-第4章

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outside。 〃Lay it crossways。〃

〃You'd better stay。 。 。 。 Hark how the wind howls。〃

And the postman; not yet quite awake; not yet quite able to shake
off the intoxicating sleep of youth and fatigue; was suddenly
overwhelmed by a desire for the sake of which mail…bags; postal
trains 。 。 。 and all things in the world; are forgotten。 He
glanced at the door in a frightened way; as though he wanted to
escape or hide himself; seized Raissa round the waist; and was
just bending over the lamp to put out the light; when he heard
the tramp of boots in the outer room; and the driver appeared in
the doorway。 Savely peeped in over his shoulder。 The postman
dropped his hands quickly and stood still as though irresolute。

〃It's all ready;〃 said the driver。 The postman stood still for a
moment; resolutely threw up his head as though waking up
completely; and followed the driver out。 Raissa was left alone。

〃Come; get in and show us the way!〃 she heard。

One bell sounded languidly; then another; and the jingling notes
in a long delicate chain floated away from the hut。

When little by little they had died away; Raissa got up and
nervously paced to and fro。 At first she was pale; then she
flushed all over。 Her face was contorted with hate; her breathing
was tremulous; her eyes gleamed with wild; savage anger; and;
pacing up and down as in a cage; she looked like a tigress
menaced with red…hot iron。 For a moment she stood still and
looked at her abode。 Almost half of the room was filled up by the
bed; which stretched the length of the whole wall and consisted
of a dirty feather…bed; coarse grey pillows; a quilt; and
nameless rags of various sorts。 The bed was a shapeless ugly mass
which suggested the shock of hair that always stood up on
Savely's head whenever it occurred to him to oil it。 From the bed
to the door that led into the cold outer room stretched the dark
stove surrounded by pots and hanging clouts。 Everything;
including the absent Savely himself; was dirty; greasy; and
smutty to the last degree; so that it was strange to see a
woman's white neck and delicate skin in such surroundings。

Raissa ran up to the bed; stretched out her hands as though she
wanted to fling it all about; stamp it underfoot; and tear it to
shreds。 But then; as though frightened by contact with the dirt;
she leapt back and began pacing up and down again。

When Savely returned two hours later; worn out and covered with
snow; she was undressed and in bed。 Her eyes were closed; but
from the slight tremor that ran over her face he guessed that she
was not asleep。 On his way home he had vowed inwardly to wait
till next day and not to touch her; but he could not resist a
biting taunt at her。

〃Your witchery was all in vain: he's gone off;〃 he said; grinning
with malignant joy。

His wife remained mute; but her chin quivered。 Savely undressed
slowly; clambered over his wife; and lay down next to the wall。

〃To…morrow I'll let Father Nikodim know what sort of wife you
are!〃 he muttered; curling himself up。

Raissa turned her face to him and her eyes gleamed。

〃The job's enough for you; and you can look for a wife in the
forest; blast you!〃 she said。 〃I am no wife for you; a clumsy
lout; a slug…a…bed; God forgive me!〃

〃Come; come 。 。 。 go to sleep!〃

〃How miserable I am!〃 sobbed his wife。 〃If it weren't for you; I
might have married a merchant or some gentleman! If it weren't
for you; I should love my husband now! And you haven't been
buried in the snow; you haven't been frozen on the highroad; you
Herod!〃

Raissa cried for a long time。 At last she drew a deep sigh and
was still。 The storm still raged without。 Something wailed in the
stove; in the chimney; outside the walls; and it seemed to Savely
that the wailing was within him; in his ears。 This evening had
completely confirmed him in his suspicions about his wife。 He no
longer doubted that his wife; with the aid of the Evil One;
controlled the winds and the post sledges。 But to add to his
grief; this mysteriousness; this supernatural; weird power gave
the woman beside him a peculiar; incomprehensible charm of which
he had not been conscious before。 The fact that in his stupidity
he unconsciously threw a poetic glamour over her made her seem;
as it were; whiter; sleeker; more unapproachable。

〃Witch!〃 he muttered indignantly。 〃Tfoo; horrid creature!〃

Yet; waiting till she was quiet and began breathing evenly; he
touched her head with his finger 。 。 。 held her thick plait in
his hand for a minute。 She did not feel it。 Then he grew bolder
and stroked her neck。

〃Leave off!〃 she shouted; and prodded him on the nose with her
elbow with such violence that he saw stars before his eyes。

The pain in his nose was soon over; but the torture in his heart
remained。


PEASANT WIVES

IN the village of Reybuzh; just facing the church; stands a
two…storeyed house with a stone foundation and an iron roof。 In
the lower storey the owner himself; Filip Ivanov Kashin;
nicknamed Dyudya; lives with his family; and on the upper floor;
where it is apt to be very hot in summer and very cold in winter;
they put up government officials; merchants; or landowners; who
chance to be travelling that way。 Dyudya rents some bits of land;
keeps a tavern on the highroad; does a trade in tar; honey;
cattle; and jackdaws; and has already something like eight
thousand roubles put by in the bank in the town。

His elder son; Fyodor; is head engineer in the factory; and; as
the peasants say of him; he has risen so high in the world that
he is quite out of reach now。 Fyodor's wife; Sofya; a plain;
ailing woman; lives at home at her father…in…law's。 She is for
ever crying; and every Sunday she goes over to the hospital for
medicine。 Dyudya's second son; the hunchback Alyoshka; is living
at home at his father's。 He has only lately been married to
Varvara; whom they singled out for him from a poor family。 She is
a handsome young woman; smart and buxom。 When officials or
merchants put up at the house; they always insist on having
Varvara to bring in the samovar and make their beds。

One June evening when the sun was setting and the air was full of
the smell of hay; of steaming dung…heaps and new milk; a
plain…looking cart drove into Dyudya's yard with three people in
it: a man of about thirty in a canvas suit; beside him a little
boy of seven or eight in a long black coat with big bone buttons;
and on the driver's seat a young fellow in a red shirt。

The young fellow took out the horses and led them out into the
street to walk them up and down a bit; while the traveller
washed; said a prayer; turning towards the church; then spread a
rug near the cart and sat down with the boy to supper。 He ate
without haste; sedately; and Dyudya; who had seen a good many
travellers in his time; knew him from his manners for a
businesslike man; serious and aware of his own value。

Dyudya was sitting on the step in his waistcoat without a cap on;
waiting for the visitor to speak first。 He was used to hearing
all kinds of stories from the travellers in the evening; and he
liked listening to them before going to bed。 His old wife;
Afanasyevna
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