the witch and other stories(女巫)-第21章
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against the birch…tree； looked up at the sky； without haste took his pipe
from his bosom and began playing。 As before； he played mechanically and
took no more than five or six notes； as though the pipe had come into his
hands for the first time； the sounds floated from it uncertainly； with no
regularity； not blending into a tune； but to Meliton； brooding on the
destruction of the world； there was a sound in it of something very
depressing and revolting which he would much rather not have heard。 The
highest； shrillest notes； which quivered and broke； seemed to be weeping
disconsolately； as though the pipe were sick 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
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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。
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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。
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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
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of movement Savka was as poor as a mouse and live
