the witch and other stories-第14节

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the　peasant's　staid　face；　apparently　remembered　something；　and
bent　his　head。　A　silence　followed　again。　。　。　。　All　three　were
pondering。　The　peasants　were　racking　their　brains　in　the　effort
to　grasp　in　their　imagination　what　can　be　grasped　by　none　but　God
　that　is；　the　vast　expanse　dividing　them　from　the　land　of
freedom。　Into　the　tramp's　mind　thronged　clear　and　distinct
pictures　more　terrible　than　that　expanse。　Before　him　rose　vividly
the　picture　of　the　long　legal　delays　and　procrastinations；　the
temporary　and　permanent　prisons；　the　convict　boats；　the　wearisome
stoppages　on　the　way；　the　frozen　winters；　illnesses；　deaths　of
companions。　。　。　。

The　tramp　blinked　guiltily；　wiped　the　tiny　drops　of　sweat　from
his　forehead　with　his　sleeve；　drew　a　deep　breath　as　though　he　had
just　leapt　out　of　a　very　hot　bath；　then　wiped　his　forehead　with
the　other　sleeve　and　looked　round　fearfully。

〃That's　true；　you　won't　get　there！〃　Ptaha　agreed。　〃You　are　not
much　of　a　walker！　Look　at　you　　nothing　but　skin　and　bone！
You'll　die；　brother！〃

〃Of　course　he'll　die！　What　could　he　do？〃　said　Nikandr。　〃He's　fit
for　the　hospital　now。　。　。　。　For　sure！〃

The　man　who　had　forgotten　his　name　looked　at　the　stern；
unconcerned　faces　of　his　sinister　companions；　and　without　taking
off　his　cap；　hurriedly　crossed　himself；　staring　with　wide…open
eyes。　。　。　。　He　trembled；　his　head　shook；　and　he　began　twitching
all　over；　like　a　caterpillar　when　it　is　stepped　upon。　。　。　。

〃Well；　it's　time　to　go；〃　said　Nikandr；　getting　up；　〃we've　had　a
rest。〃

A　minute　later　they　were　stepping　along　the　muddy　road。　The　tramp
was　more　bent　than　ever；　and　he　thrust　his　hands　further　up　his
sleeves。　Ptaha　was　silent。


THE　PIPE

MELITON　SHISHKIN；　a　bailiff　from　the　Dementyev　farm；　exhausted　by
the　sultry　heat　of　the　fir…wood　and　covered　with　spiders'　webs
and　pine…needles；　made　his　way　with　his　gun　to　the　edge　of　the
wood。　His　Damka　　a　mongrel　between　a　yard　dog　and　a　setter　
an　extremely　thin　bitch　heavy　with　young；　trailed　after　her
master　with　her　wet　tail　between　her　legs；　doing　all　she　could　to
avoid　pricking　her　nose。　It　was　a　dull；　overcast　morning。　Big
drops　dripped　from　the　bracken　and　from　the　trees　that　were
wrapped　in　a　light　mist；　there　was　a　pungent　smell　of　decay　from
the　dampness　of　the　wood。

There　were　birch…trees　ahead　of　him　where　the　wood　ended；　and
between　their　stems　and　branches　he　could　see　the　misty　distance。
Beyond　the　birch…trees　someone　was　playing　on　a　shepherd's　rustic
pipe。　The　player　produced　no　more　than　five　or　six　notes；　dragged
them　out　languidly　with　no　attempt　at　forming　a　tune；　and　yet
there　was　something　harsh　and　extremely　dreary　in　the　sound　of
the　piping。

As　the　copse　became　sparser；　and　the　pines　were　interspersed　with
young　birch…trees；　Meliton　saw　a　herd。　Hobbled　horses；　cows；　and
sheep　were　wandering　among　the　bushes　and；　snapping　the　dry
branches；　sniffed　at　the　herbage　of　the　copse。　A　lean　old
shepherd；　bareheaded；　in　a　torn　grey　smock；　stood　leaning　against
the　wet　trunk　of　a　birch…tree。　He　stared　at　the　ground；　pondering
something；　and　played　his　pipe；　it　seemed；　mechanically。

〃Good…day；　grandfather！　God　help　you！〃　Meliton　greeted　him　in　a
thin；　husky　voice　which　seemed　incongruous　with　his　huge　stature
and　big；　fleshy　face。　〃How　cleverly　you　are　playing　your　pipe！
Whose　herd　are　you　minding？〃

〃The　Artamonovs'；〃　the　shepherd　answered　reluctantly；　and　he
thrust　the　pipe　into　his　bosom。

〃So　I　suppose　the　wood　is　the　Artamonovs'　too？〃　Meliton　inquired；
looking　about　him。　〃Yes；　it　is　the　Artamonovs'；　only　fancy　。　。　。
I　had　completely　lost　myself。　I　got　my　face　scratched　all　over　in
the　thicket。〃

He　sat　down　on　the　wet　earth　and　began　rolling　up　a　bit　of
newspaper　into　a　cigarette。

Like　his　voice；　everything　about　the　man　was　small　and　out　of
keeping　with　his　height；　his　breadth；　and　his　fleshy　face：　his
smiles；　his　eyes；　his　buttons；　his　tiny　cap；　which　would　hardly
keep　on　his　big；　closely…cropped　head。　When　he　talked　and　smiled
there　was　something　womanish；　timid；　and　meek　about　his　puffy；
shaven　face　and　his　whole　figure。

〃What　weather！　God　help　us！〃　he　said；　and　he　turned　his　head　from
side　to　side。　〃Folk　have　not　carried　the　oats　yet；　and　the　rain
seems　as　though　it　had　been　taken　on　for　good；　God　bless　it。〃

The　shepherd　looked　at　the　sky；　from　which　a　drizzling　rain　was
falling；　at　the　wood；　at　the　bailif's　wet　clothes；　pondered；　and
said　nothing。

〃The　whole　summer　has　been　the　same；〃　sighed　Meliton。　〃A　bad
business　for　the　peasants　and　no　pleasure　for　the　gentry。〃

The　shepherd　looked　at　the　sky　again；　thought　a　moment；　and　said
deliberately；　as　though　chewing　each　word：

〃It's　all　going　the　same　way。　。　。　。　There　is　nothing　good　to　be
looked　for。〃

〃How　are　things　with　you　here？〃　Meliton　inquired；　lighting　his
cigarette。　〃Haven't　you　seen　any　coveys　of　grouse　in　the
Artamonovs'　clearing？〃

The　shepherd　did　not　answer　at　once。　He　looked　again　at　the　sky
and　to　right　and　left；　thought　a　little；　blinked。　。　。　。
Apparently　he　attached　no　little　significance　to　his　words；　and
to　increase　their　value　tried　to　pronounce　them　with　deliberation
and　a　certain　solemnity。　The　expression　of　his　face　had　the
sharpness　and　staidness　of　old　age；　and　the　fact　that　his　nose
had　a　saddle…shaped　depression　across　the　middle　and　his　nostrils
turned　upwards　gave　him　a　sly　and　sarcastic　look。

〃No；　I　believe　I　haven't；〃　he　said。　〃Our　huntsman　Eryomka　w　as
saying　that　on　Elijah's　Day　he　started　one　covey　near　Pustoshye；
but　I　dare　say　he　was　lying。　There　are　very　few　birds。〃

〃Yes；　brother；　very　few。　。　。　。　Very　few　everywhere！　The　shooting
here；　if　one　is　to　look　at　it　with　common　sense；　is　good　for
nothing　and　not　worth　having。　There　is　no　game　at　all；　and　what
there　is　is　not　worth　dirtying　your　hands　over　　it　is　not
full…grown。　It　is　such　poor　stuff　that　one　is　ashamed　to　look　at
it。〃

Meliton　gave　a　laugh　and　waved　his　hands。

〃Things　happen　so　queerly　in　this　world　that　it　is　simply
laughable　and　nothing　else。　Birds　nowadays　have　become　so
unaccountable：　they　sit　late　on　their　eggs；　and　there　are　some；　I
declare；　that　have　not　hatched　them　by　St。　Peter's　Day！〃

〃It's　all　going　the　same；〃　said　the　shepherd；　turning　his　face
upwards。　〃There　was　little　game　last　year；　this　year　there　are
fewer　birds　still；　and　in　another　five　years；　mark　my　words；
there　will　be　none　at　all。　As　far　as　I　can　see　there　will　soon　be
not　only　no　game；　but　no　birds　at　all。〃

Yes；〃　Meliton　assented；　after　a　moment's　thought。　〃That's　true。〃

The　shepherd　gave　a　bitter　smile　and　shook　his　head。

〃It's　a　wonder；〃　he　said；　〃what　has　become　of　them　all！　I
remember　twenty　years　ago　there　used　to　be　geese　here；　and　cranes
and　ducks　and　grouse　　clouds　and　clouds　of　them！　The　gentry
used　to　meet　together　for　shooting；　and　one　heard　nothing　but
pouf…pouf…pouf！　pouf…pouf…pouf！　There　was　no　end　to　the
woodcocks；　the　snipe；　and　the　little　teals；　and　the　water…snipe
were　as　common　as　starlings；　or　let　us　say　sparrows　　lots　and
lots　of　them！　And　what　has　become　of　them　all？　We　don't　even　see
the　birds　of　prey。　The　eagles；　the　hawks；　and　the　owls　have　all
gone。　。　。　。　There　are　fewer　of　every　sort　of　wild　beast；　too。
Nowadays；　brother；　even　the　wolf　and　the　fox　have　grown　rare；　let
alone　the　bear　or　the　otter。　And　you　know　in　old　days　there　were
even　elks！　For　forty　years　I　have　been　observing　the　works　of　God
from　year　to　year；　and　it　is　my　opinion　that　everything　is　going
the　same　way。〃

〃What　way？〃

〃To　the　bad；　young　man。　To　ruin；　we　must　suppose。　。　。　The　time
has　come　for　God's　world　to　perish。〃

The　old　man　put　on　his　cap　and　began　gazing　at　the　sky。

〃It's　a　pity；〃　he　sighed；　after　a　brief　silence。　〃O　God；　what　a
pity！　Of　course　it　is　God's　will；　the　world　was　not　created　by
us；　but　yet　it　is　a　pity；　brother。　If　a　single　tree　withers　away；
or　let　us　say　a　single　cow　dies；　it　makes　one　sorry；　but　what
will　it　be；　good　man；　if　the　whole　world　crumbles　into　dust？　Such
blessings；　Lord　Jesus！　The　sun；　and　the　sky；　and　the　forest；　and
the　rivers；　and　the　creatures　　all　these　have　been　created；
adapted；　and　adjusted　to　one　another。　Each　has　been　put　to　its
appointed　task　and　knows　its　place。　And　all　that　must　perish。〃

A　mournful　smile　gleamed　on　the　shepherd's　face；　and　his　eyelids
quivered。

〃You　say　　the　world　is　perishing；〃　said　Meliton；　pondering。　〃It
may　be　that　the　end　of　the　world　is　near　at　hand；　but　you　can't
judge　by　the　birds。　I　don't　think　the　birds　can　be　taken　as　a
sign。〃

〃Not　the　birds　only；〃　said　the　shepherd。　〃It's　the　wild　beasts；
too；　and　the　cattle；　and　the　bees；　and　the　fish。　。　。　。　If　you
don't　believe　me　ask　the　old　people；　every　old　man　will　tell　you
that　the　fish　are　not　at　all　what　they　used　to　be。　In　the　seas；
in　the　lakes；　and　in　the　rivers；　there　are　fewer　fish　from　year
to　year。　In　our　Pestchanka；　I　remember；　pike　used　to　be　caught　a
yard　long；　and　there　were　eel…pouts；　and　roach；　and　bream；　and
every　fish　had　a　presentable　appearance；　while　nowadays；　if　you
catch　a　wretched　little　pikelet　or　perch　six　inches　long　you　have
to　be　thankful。　There　are　not　any　gudgeon　even　worth　talking