On A River Steamer
The water of the river was smooth, and dull silver of tint.Also, so barely perceptible was the current that it seemed to bealmost stagnant under the mist of the noontide heat, and only bythe changes in the aspect of the banks could one realise howquietly and evenly the river was carrying on its surface the oldyellow-hulled steamer with the white-rimmed funnel, and also theclumsy barge which was being towed in her wake.Dreamily did the floats of the paddle-wheels slap the water.Under the planks of the deck the engines toiled without ceasing.Steam hissed and panted. At intervals the engine-room belljarred upon the car. At intervals, also, the tiller-chains slidto and fro with a dull, rattling sound. Yet, owing to thesomnolent stillness settled upon the river, these soundsescaped, failed to catch one's attention.Through the dryness of the summer the water was low.Periodically, in the steamer's bow, a deck hand like a king, aman with a lean,, yellow, black-avised face and a pair oflanguishing eyes, threw overboard a polished log as in tones ofmelting melancholy he chanted:"Se-em, se-em, shest!"["Seven, seven, six!"(the depth of water, reckoned in sazhenior fathoms)]It was as though he were wailing:"Seyem, seyem, a yest-NISHEVO"[Let us eat, let us eat, but to eat there is--nothing]Meanwhile, the steamer kept turning her stearlet-like [Thestearlet is a fish of the salmon species] prow deliberately andalternately towards either bank as the barge yawed behind her,and the grey hawser kept tautening and quivering, and sendingout showers of gold and silver sparkles. Ever and anon, too, thecaptain on the bridge kept shouting, hoarsely through aspeaking-trumpet:"About, there!"Under the stem of the barge a wave ran which, divided into apair of white wings, serpentined away towards either bank.In the meadowed distance peat seemed to be being burnt, and overthe black forest there had gathered an opalescent cloud of smokewhich also suffused the neighbouring marshes.To the right, the bank of the river towered up into lofty,precipitous, clayey slopes intersected with ravines whereinaspens and birches found shelter.Everything ashore had about it a restful, sultry, deserted look.Even in the dull blue, torrid sky there was nought save awhite-hot sun.In endless vista were meadows studded with trees--trees sleepingin lonely isolation, and, in places, surmounted with either thecross of a rural church which looked like a day star or thesails of a windmill; while further back from the banks lay thetissue cloths of ripening crops, with, here and there, a humanhabitation.Throughout, the scene was indistinct. Everything in it was calm,touchingly simple, intimate, intelligible, grateful to the soul.So much so that as one contemplated the slowly-varying vistaspresented by the loftier bank, the immutable stretches ofmeadowland, and the green, timbered dance-rings where the forestapproached the river, to gaze at itself in the watery mirror,and recede again into the peaceful distance; as one gazed at allthis one could not but reflect that nowhere else could a spotmore simply, more kindly, more beautiful be found, than these peacefulshores of the great river.Yet already a few shrubs by the river's margin were beginning todisplay yellow leaves, though the landscape as a whole wassmiling the doubtful, meditative smile of a young bride who,about to bear her first child, is feeling at once nervous anddelighted at the prospect.*************************The hour was past noon, and the third-class passengers, languidwith fatigue induced by the heat, were engaged in drinkingeither tea or beer. Seated mostly on the bulwarks of thesteamer, they silently scanned the banks, while the deckquivered, crockery clattered at the buffet, and the deck hand inthe bows sighed soporifically:Six! Six! Six-and-a-half!From the engine-room a grimy stoker emerged. Rolling along, andscraping his bare feet audibly against the deck, he approachedthe boatswain's cabin, where the said boatswain, a fair-haired,fair-bearded man from Kostroma was standing in the doorway. Thesenior official contracted his rugged eyes quizzically, andinquired:"Whither in such a hurry?""To pick a bone with Mitka.""Good!"With a wave of his black hand the stoker resumed his way, whilethe boatswain, yawning, fell to casting his eyes about him. On alocker near the companion of the engine-room a small man in abuff pea-jacket, a new cap, and a pair of boots on which therewere clots of dried mud, was seated.Through lack of diversion the boatswain began to feel inclinedto hector somebody, so cried sternly to the man in question:"Hi there, chawbacon!"The man on the locker turned about--turned nervously, and much asa bullock turns. That is to say, he turned with his whole body."Why have you gone and put yourself THERE?" inquired theboatswain. "Though there is a notice to tell you NOT to sitthere, it is there that you must go and sit! Can't you read?"Rising, the passenger inspected not the notice, but the locker.Then he replied:"Read? Yes, I CAN read.""Then why sit there where you oughtn't to?""I cannot see any notice.""Well, it's hot there anyway, and the smell of oil comes upfrom the engines. . . . Whence have you come?""From Kashira.""Long from home?""Three weeks, about.""Any rain at your place?""No. But why?""How come your boots are so muddy?"The passenger lowered his head, extended cautiously first onefoot, and then the other, scrutinised them both, and replied:"You see, they are not my boots."With a roar of laughter that caused his brilliant beard toproject from his chin, the boatswain retorted:"I think you must drink a bit."The passenger said nothing more, but retreated quietly, and withshort strides, to the stem. From the fact that the sleeves ofhis pea-jacket reached far below his wrists, it was clear thatthe garment had originated from the shoulders of another man.As for the boatswain, on noting the circumspection anddiffidence with which the passenger walked, he frowned, suckedat his beard, approached a sailor who was engaged in vigorouslyscrubbing the brass on the door of the captain's cabin with anaked palm, and said in an undertone:"Did you happen to notice the gait of that little man there inthe light pea-jacket and dirty boots? ""I did.""Then see here. Do keep an eye upon him.""But why? Is he a bad lot?""Something like it, I think.""I will then."At a table near the hatchway of the first-class cabin, a fat manin grey was drinking beer. Already he had reached a state ofmoderate fuddlement, for his eyes were protruding sightlesslyand staring unwinkingly at the opposite wall. Meanwhile, a numberof flies were swarming in the sticky puddles on the table, orelse crawling over his greyish beard and the brick-red skin ofhis motionless features.The boatswain winked in his direction, and remarked:"Half-seas over, HE is.""'Tis his way," a pockmarked, eyebrow-less sailor responded.Here the drunken man sneezed: with the result that a cloud offlies were blown over the table. Looking at them, and sighing ashis companion had done, the boatswain thoughtfully observed:"Why, he regularly sneezes flies, eh?"******************************The resting-place which I myself had selected was a stack offirewood over the stokehole shoot; and as I lay upon it I couldsee the hills gradually darkening the water with a mourning veilas calmly they advanced to meet the steamer; while in themeadows, a last lingering glow of the sunset's radiance wasreddening the stems of the birches, and making the newly mendedroof of a hut look as though it were cased in red fustian--communicating to everything else in the vicinity a semblance offloating amid fire-- and effacing all outline, and causing thescene as a whole to dissolve into streaks of red and orange andblue, save where, on a hill above the hut, a black grove of firsstood thrown into tense, keen, and clear-cut relief.Under a hill a party of fishermen had lit a wood fire, theflames of which could be seen playing upon, and picking out, thewhite hull of a boat-- the dark figure of a man therein, afishing net suspended from some stakes, and a woman in a yellowbodice who was sitting beside the fire. Also, amid the goldenradiance there could be distinguished a quivering of the leaveson the lower branches of the tree whereunder the woman satshaded.All the river was calm, and not a sound occurred to break thestillness ashore, while the air under the awning of thethird-class portion of the vessel felt as stifling as during theearlier part of the day. By this time the conversation of thepassengers, damped by the shadow of dusk, had merged into asingle sound which resembled the humming of bees; and amid itone could not distinguish nor divine who was speaking, nor thesubject of discussion, since every word therein seemeddisconnected, even though all appeared to be talking amicably,and in order, concerning a common topic. At one moment asuppressed laugh from a young woman would reach the ear; in thecabin, a party who had agreed to sing a song of generalacceptation were failing to hit upon one, and disputing thepoint in low and dispassionate accents; and in each, such soundthere was something vespertinal, gently sad, softly prayer-like.From behind the firewood near me a thick, rasping voice said indeliberate tones:"At first he was a useful young fellow enough, and clean andspruce; but lately, he has become shabby and dirty, and is goingto the dogs."Another voice, loud and gruff, replied:"Aha! Avoid the ladies, or one is bound to go amiss.""The saying has it that always a fish makes for deeper water.""Besides, he is a fool, and that is worse still. By the way, heis a relative of yours, isn't he?""Yes. He is my brother.""Indeed? Then pray forgive me.""Certainly; but, to speak plainly, he is a fool."At this moment I saw the passenger in the buff pea-jacketapproach the sally-port, grasp with his left hand a stanchion,and step on to the grating under which one of the paddle-wheelswas churning the water to foam. There he stood looking over thebulwarks with a swinging motion akin to that of a bat when,grappling some object or another with its wings, it hangssuspended in the air. The fact that the man's cap was drawntightly over his ears caused the latter to stick out almost tothe point of absurdity.Presently he turned and peered into the gloom under the awning,though, seemingly, he failed to distinguish myself reposing onthe firewood. This enabled me to gain a clear view of a facewith a sharp nose, some tufts of light-coloured hair on cheeksand chin, and a pair of small, muddy-looking eyes. He stoodthere as though he were listening to something.All of a sudden he stepped firmly to the sally-port, swiftlyunlashed from the iron top-rail a mop, and threw it overboard.Then he set about unlashing a second article of the same species."Hi!" I shouted to him. "What are you doing there?"With a start the man turned round, clapped a hand to hisforehead to discover my whereabouts, and replied softly andrapidly, and with a stammer in his voice:"How is that your business? Get away with you!"Upon this I approached him, for I was astonished and amused athis impudence."For what you have done the sailors will make you pay rightenough," I remarked.He tucked up the sleeves of his pea-jacket as though he werepreparing for a fight. Then, stamping his foot upon the slipperygrating, he muttered:"I perceived the mop to have come untied, and to be in dangerof falling into the water through the vibration. Upon that Itried to secure it, and failed, for it slipped from my hands asI was doing so.""But," I remarked in amazement, "my belief is that youWILLFULLY untied the mop, to throw it overboard!""Come, come!" he retorted. "Why should I have done that? Whatan extraordinary thing it would have been to do! How could ithave been possible?"Here he dodged me with a dexterous movement, and, rearranginghis sleeves, walked away. The length of the pea-jacket made hislegs look absurdly short, and caused me to notice that in hisgait there was a tendency to shuffle and hesitate.Returning to my retreat, I stretched myself upon the firewoodonce more, inhaled its resinous odour, and fell to listening tothe slow-moving dialogue of some of the passengers around me."Ah, good sir," a gruff, sarcastic voice began at my side-- butinstantly a yet gruffer voice intervened with:"Well?""Oh, nothing, except that to ask a question is easy, and toanswer it may be difficult.""True."From the ravines a mist was spreading over the river.****************************At length night fell, and as folk relapsed into slumber thebabel of tongues became stilled. The car, as it grew used to theboisterous roar of the engines and the measured rhythm of thepaddle-wheels, did not at first notice the new sound born of thefact that into the sounds previously made familiar there beganto intrude the snores of slumberers, and the padding of softfootsteps, and an excited whisper of:"I said to him--yes, I said: 'Yasha, you must not, you shallnot, do this.'"The banks had disappeared from view. Indeed, one continued to bereminded of their existence only by the slow passage of thescattered fires ashore, and the fact that the darkness layblacker and denser around those fires than elsewhere. Dimlyreflected in the river, the stars seemed to be absolutelymotionless, whereas the trailing, golden reproductions of thesteamer's lights never ceased to quiver, as though striving tobreak adrift, and float away into the obscurity. Meanwhile, foamlike tissue paper was licking our dark hull, while at our stern,and sometimes overtaking it, there trailed a barge with a coupleof lanterns in her prow, and a third on her mast, which at onemoment marked the reflections of the stars, and at anotherbecame merged with the gleams of firelight on one or the otherbank.On a bench under a lantern near the spot where I was lying astout woman was asleep. With one hand resting upon a smallbundle under her head, she had her bodice torn under the armpit,so that the white flesh and a tuft of hair could be seenprotruding. Also, her face was large, dark of brow, and full ofjowl to a point that caused the cheeks to roll to her very ears.Lastly, her thick lips were parted in an ungainly, corpselikesmile.From my own position on a level higher than hers, I lookeddreamily down upon her, and reflected: "She is a little overforty years of age, and (probably) a good woman. Also, she istravelling to visit either her daughter and son-in-law, or herson and daughter-in-law, and therefore is taking with her somepresents. Also, there is in her large heart much of theexcellent and maternal."Suddenly something near me flashed as though a match had beenstruck, and, opening my eyes, I perceived the passenger in thecurious pea-jacket to be standing near the woman spoken of, andengaged in shielding a lighted match with his sleeve. Presently,he extended his hand and cautiously applied the particle offlame to the tuft of hair under the woman's armpit. Therefollowed a faint hiss, and a noxious smell of burning hair waswafted to my nostrils.I leapt up, seized the man by the collar, and shook him soundly."What are you at?" I exclaimed.Turning in my grasp he whispered with a scarcely audible, butexceedingly repulsive, giggle:"Haven't I given her a good fright, eh?"Then he added:"Now, let me go! Let go, I say!""Have you lost your wits?" I retorted with a gasp.For a moment or two his blinking eyes continued to glance atsomething over my shoulder. Then they returned to me, while hewhispered:"Pray let me go. The truth is that, unable to sleep, Iconceived that I would play this woman a trick. Was there anyharm in that? See, now. She is still asleep."As I thrust him away his short legs, legs which might almosthave been amputated, staggered under him. Meanwhile I reflected:"No, I was NOT wrong. He DID of set purpose throw the mopoverboard. What a fellow! "A bell sounded from the engine-room."Slow!" someone shouted with a cheerful hail.Upon that, steam issued with such resounding shrillness that thewoman awoke with a jerk of her head; and as she put up her lefthand to feel her armpit, her crumpled features gatheredthemselves into wrinkles. Then she glanced at the lamp, raisedherself to a sitting position, and, fingering the place wherethe hair had been destroyed, said softly to herself:"Oh, holy Mother of God!"Presently the steamer drew to a wharf, and, with a loudclattering, firewood was dragged forth and cast into thestokehole with uncouth, warning cries of " Tru-us-sha! " [Theword means ship' s hold or stokehole, but here is, probably,equivalent to the English " Heads below!"]Over a little town which had its back pressed against a hill thewaning moon was rising and brightening all the black river,causing it to gather life as the radiance laved, as it were, thelandscape in warm water.Walking aft, I seated myself among some bales and contemplatedthe town's frontage. Over one end of it rose, tapering like awalking-stick, a factory chimney, while at the other end, aswell as in the middle, rose belfries, one of which had a gildedsteeple, and the other one a steeple either green or blue, butlooking black in the moonlight, and shaped like a raggedpaint-brush.Opposite the wharf there was stuck in the wide gable of atwo-storied building a lantern which, flickering, diffused but adull, anaemic light from its dirty panes, while over the longstrip of the broken signboard of the building there could beseen straggling, and executed in large yellow letters, thewords, "Tavern and -" No more of the legend than this wasvisible.Lanterns were hanging in two or three other spots in the drowsylittle town; and wherever their murky stains of light hungsuspended in the air there stood out in relief a medley ofgables, drab-tinted trees, and false windows in white paint,on walls of a dull slate colour.Somehow I found contemplation of the scene depressing.Meanwhile the vessel continued to emit steam as she rocked toand fro with a creaking of wood, a slap-slapping of water,and a scrubbing of her sides against the wharf. At lengthsomeone ejaculated surlily:"Fool, you must be asleep! The winch, you say? Why, the winchis at the stern, damn you!""Off again, thank the Lord!" added the rasping voice alreadyheard from behind the bales, while to it an equally familiarvoice rejoined with a yawn:"It's time we WERE off!"Said a hoarse voice:"Look here, young fellow. What was it he shouted?"Hastily and inarticulately, with a great deal of smacking of thelips and stuttering, someone replied:"He shouted: 'Kinsmen, do not kill me! Have some mercy, forChrist's sake, and I will make over to you everything--yes,everything into your good hands for ever! Only let me go away,and expiate my sins, and save my soul through prayer. Aye, Iwill go on a pilgrimage, and remain hidden my life long, to thevery end. Never shall you hear of me again, nor see me.' ThenUncle Peter caught him a blow on the head, and his bloodsplashed out upon me. As he fell I--well, I ran away, and madefor the tavern, where I knocked at the door and shouted:'Sister, they have killed our father!' Upon that, she put herhead out of the window, but only said: 'That merely means thatthe rascal is making an excuse for vodka.' . . . Aye, a terribletime it was--was that night! And how frightened I felt! At first,I made for the garret, but presently thought to myself: 'No;they would soon find me there, and put me to an end as well, forI am the heir direct, and should be the first to succeed to theproperty.' So I crawled on to the roof, and there lay hiddenbehind the chimney-stack, holding on with arms and legs,while unable to speak for sheer terror.""What were you afraid of?" a brusque voice interrupted."What was I afraid of?""At all events, you joined your uncle in killing your father,didn't you?""In such an hour one has not time to think--one just kills a manbecause one can't help oneself, or because it seems so easy tokill.""True," the hoarser voice commented in dull and ponderousaccents. "When once blood has flowed the fact leads to moreblood, and if a man has started out to kill, he cares nothingfor any reason--he finds good enough the reason which comes firstto his hand.""But if this young fellow is speaking the truth, he had aBUSINESS reason--though, properly speaking, even property oughtnot to provoke quarrels.""Similarly one ought not to kill just when one chooses. Folkwho commit such crimes should have justice meted out to them.""Yes, but it is difficult always to obtain such justice. Forinstance, this young fellow seems to have spent over a year inprison for nothing.""'For nothing'? Why, did he not entice his father into thehut, and then shut the door upon him, and throw a coat over hishead? He has said so himself. 'For nothing,' indeed!"Upon this the rapid stream of sobbed, disconnected words, which Ihad heard before from some speaker poured forth anew. Somehow, Iguessed that it came from the man in the dirty boots, as oncemore he recounted the story of the murder."I do not wish to justify myself," he said. "I say merelythat, inasmuch as I was promised a reprieve at the trial, I toldeverything, and was therefore allowed to go free, while my uncleand my brother were sentenced to penal servitude.""But you KNEW that they had agreed to kill him?""Well, it is my idea that at first they intended only to givehim a good fright. Never did my father recognise me as hisson--always he called me a Jesuit."The gruffer of the two voices pulled up the speaker."To think," it said, "that you can actually talk about it all!""Why shouldn't I? My father brought tears to the eyes of manyan innocent person.""A fig for people's tears! If our causes of tears were one andall to be murdered, what would the state of things become? Shedtears, but never blood; for blood is not yours to shed. And evenif you should believe your own blood to be your own, know thatit is not so, that your blood does not belong to you, but toSomeone Else.""The point in question was my father's property. It all showshow a man may live awhile, and earn his living, and thensuddenly go amiss, and lose his wits, and even conceive a grudgeagainst his own father. . . . Now I must get some sleep."Behind the bales all grew quiet. Presently I rose to peer inthat direction. The passenger in the buff pea-jacket was sittinghuddled up against a coil of rope, with his hands thrust intohis sleeves, and his chin resting upon his arms. As the moon wasshining straight into his face, I could see that the latter wasas livid as that of a corpse, and had its brows drawn down overits narrow, insignificant eyes.Beside him, and close to my head, there was lying stretched onthe top of the coil of rope a broad-shouldered peasant in ashort smock and a pair of patched boots of white felt. Theringlets of the wearer's curly beard were thrust upwards, andhis hands clasped behind his head, and with ox-like eyes hestared at the zenith where a few stars were shining, and the moonwas beginning to sink.At length, in a trumpet-like voice (though he seemed to do hisbest to soften it) the peasant asked:"Your uncle is on that barge, I suppose?""He is. And so is my brother.""Yet you are here! How strange!"The dark barge, towed against the steamer's blue-silver wash offoam, was cleaving it like a plough, while under the moon thelights of the barge showed white, and the hull and theprisoners' cage stood raised high out of the water as to ourright the black, indentated bank glided past in sinuousconvolutions.From the whole, soft, liquescent fluid scene, the impression which I derived was melancholy.It evoked in my spirit a sense of instability, a lack of restfulness."Why are you travelling?""Because I wish to have a word with him.""With your uncle?""Yes.""About the property?""What else?""Then look here, my young fellow. Drop it all--both your uncleand the property, and betake yourself to a monastery, and therelive and pray. For if you have shed blood, and especially if youhave shed the blood of a kinsman, you will stand for everestranged from all, while, moreover, bloodshed is a dangerousthing--it may at any time come back upon you.""But the property?" the young fellow asked with a lift of hishead."Let it go," the peasant vouchsafed as he closed his eyes.On the younger man's face the down twitched as though a wind hadstirred it. He yawned, and looked about him for a moment. Then,descrying myself, he cried in a tone of resentment:"What are you looking at? And why do you keep following meabout?"Here the big peasant opened his eyes, and, with a glance firstat the man, and then at myself, growled:"Less noise there, you mitten-face!"**************************As I retired to my nook and lay down, I reflected that what thebig peasant had said was apposite enough-that the young fellow'sface did in very truth resemble an old and shabby woollen mitten.Presently I dreamt that I was painting a belfry, and that, as Idid so, huge, goggle-eyed jackdaws kept flying around thebelfry's gables, and flapping at me with their wings andhindering my work: until, as I sought to beat them off, I missedmy footing, fell to earth, and awoke to find my breath chokingamid a dull, sick, painful feeling of lassitude and weakness,and a kaleidoscopic mist quavering before my eyes till itrendered me dizzy. From my head, behind the car, a thin streamof blood was trickling.Rising with some difficulty to my feet, I stepped aft to a pump,washed my head under a jet of cold water, bound it with myhandkerchief, and, returning, inspected my resting-place in astate of bewilderment as to what could have caused the accidentto happen.On the deck near the spot where I had been asleep, there wasstanding stacked a pile of small logs prepared for the cook'sgalley; while, in the precise spot where my head had rested therewas reposing a birch faggot of which the withy-tie had comeunfastened. As I raised the fallen faggot I perceived it to beclean and composed of silky loppings of birch-bark which rustledas I fingered them; and, consequently, I reflected that theceaseless vibration of the steamer must have caused the faggotto become jerked on to my head.Reassured by this plausible explanation of the unfortunate, butabsurd, occurrence of which I have spoken, I next returned tothe stern, where there were no oppressive odours to beencountered, and whence a good view was obtainable.The hour was the turn of the night, the hour of maximum tensionbefore dawn, the hour when all the world seems plunged in aprofundity of slumber whence there can be no awakening, and whenthe completeness of the silence attunes the soul to specialsensibility, and when the stars seem to be hanging strangelyclose to earth, and the morning star, in particular, to beshining as brightly as a miniature sun. Yet already had theheavens begun to grow coldly grey, to lose their nocturnalsoftness and warmth, while the rays of the stars were droopinglike petals, and the moon, hitherto golden, had turned pale andbecome dusted over with silver, and moved further from the earthas intangibly the water of the river sloughed its thick, viscousgleam, and swiftly emitted and withdrew, stray, pearlyreflections of the changes occurring in the heavenly tints.In the east there was rising, and hanging suspended over theblack spears of the pine forest, a thin pink mist the sensuoushue of which was glowing ever brighter, and assuming a densityever greater, and standing forth more boldly and clearly, evenas a whisper of timid prayer merges into a song of exultantthankfulness. Another moment, and the spiked tops of the pinesblazed into points of red fire resembling festival candles in asanctuary.Next, an unseen hand threw over the water, drew along itssurface, a transparent and many-coloured net of silk. This wasthe morning breeze, herald of dawn, as with a coating oftissue-like, silvery scales it rippled the river until the eyegrew weary of trying to follow the play of gold andmother-of-pearl and purple and bluish-green reflected from thesun-renovated heavens.Next, like a fan there unfolded themselves the firstsword-shaped beams of day, with their tips blindingly white;while simultaneously one seemed to hear descending from aniilimitable height a dense sound-wave of silver bells, asound-wave advancing triumphantly to greet the sun as hisroseate rim became visible over the forest like the rim of a cupthat, filled with the essence of life, was about to empty itscontents upon the earth, and to pour a bounteous flood ofcreative puissance upon the marshes whence a reddish vapour asof incense was arising. Meanwhile on the more precipitous of thetwo banks some of the trees near the river's margin werethrowing soft green shadows over the water, while gilt-like dewwas sparkling. on the herbage, and birds were awakening, and asa white gull skimmed the water's surface on level wings, the paleshadow of those wings followed the bird over the tinted expanse,while the sun, suspended in flame behind the forest, like theImperial bird of the fairy-tale, rose higher and higher into thegreenish-blue zenith, until silvery Venus, expiring, herselflooked like a bird.Here and there on the yellow strip of sand by the river's margin,long-legged snipe were scurrying about. Two fishermen wererocking in a boat in the steamer's wash as they hauled theirtackle. Floating from the shore there began to reach us suchvocal sounds of morning as the crowing of cocks, the lowing ofcattle, and the persistent murmur of human voices.Similarly the buff-coloured bales in the steamer's stemgradually reddened, as did the grey tints in the beard of thelarge peasant where, sprawling his ponderous form over the deck,he was lying asleep with mouth open, nostrils distended withstertorous snores, brows raised as though in astonishment, andthick moustache intermittently twitching.Someone amid the piles of bales was panting as he fidgeted, andas I glanced in that direction I encountered the gaze of a pairof small, narrow, inflamed eyes, and beheld before me theragged, mitten-like face, though now it looked even thinner andgreyer than it had done on the previous evening. Apparently itsowner was feeling cold, for he had hunched his chin between hisknees, and clasped his hirsute arms around his legs, as his eyesstared gloomily, with a hunted air, in my direction. Thenwearily, lifelessly he said:"Yes,you have found me. And now you can thrash me if you wishto do so--you can give me a blow, for I gave you one, and,consequently, it's your turn to do the hitting."Stupefied with astonishment, I inquired in an undertone."It was you, then, that hit me?""It was so, but where are your witnesses?"The words came in hoarse, croaked, suppressed accents, with aseparation of the hands, and an upthrow of the head andprojecting cars which had such a comical look of being crushedbeneath the weight of the battened-down cap. Next, thrusting hishands into the pockets of his pea-jacket, the man repeated in atone of challenge:"Where, I say, are your witnesses? You can go to the devil!"I could discern in him something at once helpless and froglikewhich evoked in me a strong feeling of repulsion; and since,with that, I had no real wish to converse with him, or even torevenge myself upon him for his cowardly blow, I turned away insilence.But a moment later I looked at him again, and saw that he wasseated in his former posture, with his arms embracing his knees,his chin resting upon them, and his red, sleepless eyes gazinglifelessly at the barge which the steamer was towing betweenwide ribbons of foaming water--ribbons sparkling in the sunlightlike mash in a brewer's vat.And those eyes, that dead, alienated expression, the gaycheerfulness of the morning, and the clear radiance of theheavens, and the kindly tints of the two banks, and the vocalsounds of the June day, and the bracing freshness of the air,and the whole scene around us served but to throw into the moretragic relief.*******************************Just as the steamer was leaving Sundir the man threw himselfinto the water;in the sight of everybody he sprang overboard.Upon that all shouted, jostled their neighbours as they rushedto the side, and fell to scanning the river where from bank tobank it lay wrapped in blinding glitter.The whistle sounded in fitful alarm, the sailors threw lifebeltsoverboard, the deck rumbled like a drum under the crowd'ssurging rush, steam hissed afflightedly, a woman vented anhysterical cry, and the captain bawled from the bridge theimperious command:"Avast heaving lifebelts! By now the fool will have got one!Damn you, calm the passengers!"An unwashed, untidy priest with timid, staring eyes thrust backhis long, dishevelled hair, and fell to repeating, as his fatshoulder jostled all and sundry, and his feet tripped people up."A muzhik, is it, or a woman? A muzhik, eh?"By the time that I had made my way to the stern the man hadfallen far behind the stern of the barge, and his head looked assmall as a fly on the glassy surface of the water. However,towards that fly a fishing-boat was already darting with theswiftness of a water beetle, and causing its two oars to showquiveringly red and grey, while from the marshier of the twobanks there began hastily to put out a second boat which leaptin the steamer's wash with the gaiety of a young calf.Suddenly there broke into the painful hubbub on the steamer'sdeck a faint, heartrending cry of "A-a-ah!"In answer to it a sharp-nosed, black-bearded, well-dressedpeasant muttered with a smack of his lips:"Ah! That is him shouting. What a madman he must have been! Andan ugly customer too, wasn't he?"The peasant with the curly beard rejoined in a tone ofconviction engulfing all other utterances:"It is his conscience that is catching him. Think what youlike, but never can conscience be suppressed."Therewith, constantly interrupting one another, the pair betookthemselves to a public recital of the tragic story of thefair-haired young fellow, whom the fishermen had now lifted fromthe water, and were conveying towards the steamer with oars thatoscillated at top speed.The bearded peasant continued:"As soon as it was seen that he was but running after thesoldier's wife.""Besides," the other peasant interrupted, "the property wasnot to be divided after the death of the father."With which the bearded muzhik eagerly recounted the history ofthe murder done by the brother, the nephew, and a son, while thespruce, spare, well-dressed peasant interlarded the general buzzof conversation with words and comments cheerfully andstridently delivered, much as though he were driving in stakesfor the erection of a fence."Every man is drawn most in the direction whither he finds iteasiest to go.""Then it will be the Devil that will be drawing him, since thedirection of Hell is always the easiest.""Well, YOU will not be going that way, I suppose? You don'taltogether fancy it?""Why should I?""Because you have declared it to be the easiest way.""Well, I am not a saint.""No, ha-ha! you are not.""And you mean that--?""I mean nothing. If a dog's chain be short, he is not to beblamed."Whereupon, setting nose to nose, the pair plunged into a quarrelstill more heated as they expounded in simple, but oftencuriously apposite, language opinions intelligible to themselvesalone. The one peasant, a lean fellow with lengthy limbs, cold,sarcastic eyes, and a dark, bony countenance, spoke loudly andsonorously, with frequent shrugs of the shoulders, while theother peasant, a man stout and broad of build who until now hadseemed calm, self-assured of demeanour, and a man of settledviews, breathed heavily, while his oxlike eyes glowed with anardour causing his face to flush patchily, and his beard tostick out from his chin."Look here, for instance," he growled as he gesticulated androlled his dull eyes about. "How can that be? Does not even Godknow wherein a man ought to restrain himself?""If the Devil be one's master, God doesn't come into thematter.""Liar! For who was the first who raised his hand against hisfellow?""Cain.""And the first man who repented of a sin? ""Adam.""Ah! You see!"Here there broke into the dispute a shout of: "They are justgetting him aboard!" and the crowd, rushing away from thestern, carried with it the two disputants--the sparer peasant;lowering his shoulders, and buttoning up his jacket as he went;while the bearded peasant, following at his heels, thrust hishead forward in a surly manner as he shifted his cap from theone ear to the other.With a ponderous beating of paddles against the current thesteamer heaved to, and the captain shouted through aspeaking-trumpet, with a view to preventing a collision betweenthe barge and the stem of the vessel:"Put her over! Put her o-o-ove-r!"Soon the fishing-boat came alongside, and the half-drowned man,with a form as limp as a half-empty sack, and water exuding fromevery stitch, and his hitherto haggard face grown smooth andsimple-looking, was hoisted on board.Next, on the sailors laying him upon the hatchway of the baggagehold, he sat up, leaned forward, smoothed his wet hair with thepalms of his hands, and asked dully, without looking at anyone:"Have they also recovered my cap?"Someone among the throng around him exclaimed reprovingly:"It is not about your cap that you ought to be thinking, butabout your soul."Upon this he hiccuped loudly and freely, like a camel, andemitted a stream of turgid water from his mouth. Then, lookingat the crowd with lack-lustre eyes, he said in an apathetic tone:"Let me be taken elsewhere."In answer, the boatswain sternly bade him stretch himself out,and this the young fellow did, with his hands clasped under hishead, and his eyes closed, while the boatswain added brusquelyto the onlookers:"Move away, move away, good people. What is there to stare at?This is not a show. . . . Hi, you muzhik! Why did you play ussuch a trick, damn you?"The crowd however, was not to be suppressed, but indulged incomments."He murdered his father, didn't he?""What? THAT wretched creature?"As for the boatswain, he squatted upon his heels, and proceededto subject the rescued man to a course of strict interrogation."What is the destination marked on your ticket?""Perm.""Then you ought to leave the boat at Kazan. And what is yourname?""Yakov.""And your surname?""Bashkin--though we are known also as the Bukolov family.""Your family has a DOUBLE surname, then?"With the full power of his trumpet-like lungs the beardedpeasant (evidently he had lost his temper) broke in:"Though his uncle and his brother have been sentenced to penalservitude and are travelling together on that barge, he--well,he has received his discharge! That is only a personal matter,however. In spite of what judges may say, one ought never tokill, since conscience cannot bear the thought of blood. Evennearly to become a murderer is wrong."By this time more and more passengers had collected as they awakened from sleep and emerged from the first- andsecond-class cabins. Among them was the mate, a man witha black moustache and rubicund features who inquired ofsomeone amid the confusion: "You are not a doctor, I suppose?"and received the astonished, high-pitched reply: "No,sir, nor ever have been one."To this someone added with a drawl:"Why is a doctor needed? Surely the man is a fellow of noparticular importance?"Over the river the radiance of the summer daylight had gatheredincreased strength, and, since the date was a Sunday, bells weresounding seductively from a hill, and a couple of women in galaapparel who were following the margin of the river wavedhandkerchiefs towards the steamer, and shouted some greeting.Meanwhile the young fellow lay motionless, with his eyes closed.Divested of his pea-jacket, and wrapped about with wet, clingingunderclothing, he looked more symmetrical than previously--hischest seemed better developed, his body plumper, and his facemore rotund and less ugly.Yet though the passengers gazed at him with compassion ordistaste or severity or fear, as the case might be, all did sowithout ceremony, as though he had not been aliving man at all.For instance, a gaunt gentleman in a grey frock-coat said to alady in a yellow straw hat adorned with a pink ribbon:"At our place, in Riazan, when a certain master-watchmaker wentand hanged himself to a ventilator, he first of all stoppedevery watch and clock in his shop. Now, the question is, why didhe stop them?""An abnormal case indeed!"On the other hand, a dark-browed woman who had her hands hiddenbeneath her shawl stood gazing at the rescued man in silence,and with her side turned towards him. As she did so tears werewelling in her grey-blue eyes.Presently two sailors appeared. One of them bent over the youngfellow, touched him on the shoulder, and said:"Hi! You are to get up."Whereupon the young fellow rose, and was removed elsewhither.**********************************When, after an interval, he reappeared on deck, he was clean anddry, and clad in a cook's white jumper and a sailor's blue sergetrousers. Clasping his hands behind his back, hunching hisshoulders, and bending his head forward, he walked swiftly tothe stern, with a throng of idlers--at first one by one, and thenin parties of from three to a dozen--following in his wake.The man seated himself upon a coil of rope, and, craning hisneck in wolf-like fashion to eye the bystanders, frowned, letfall his temples upon hands thrust into his flaxen hair, andfixed his gaze upon the barge.Standing or sitting about in the hot sunshine, people stared athim without stint. Evidently they would have liked, but did notdare, to engage him in conversation. Presently the big peasantalso arrived on the scene, and, after glancing at all present,took off his hat, and wiped his perspiring face. Next, agrey-headed old man with a red nose, a thin wisp of beard, andwatery eyes cleared his throat, and in honeyed tones took theinitiative."Would you mind telling us how it all happened?" he began."Why should I do so?" retorted the young fellow without moving.Taking a red handkerchief from his bosom, the old man shook itout and applied it cautiously to his eyes. Then he said throughits folds in the quiet accents of a man who is determined topersevere:"Why, you say? For the reason that the occasion is one when allought to know the tru--"Lurching forward, the bearded peasant interposed with a rasp:"Yes, do you tell us all about it, and things will becomeeasier for you. For a sin always needs to be made known."While, like an echo, a voice said in bold and sarcastic accents:"It would be better to seize him and tie him up."Upon this the young fellow raised his brows a little, andretorted in an undertone:"Let me bide.""The rascal!" the crowd commented, while the old man, neatlyfolding and replacing his handkerchief, raised a hand as dry asa cock's leg, and remarked with a sharp, knowing smile:"Possibly it is not merely out of idle curiosity that folk aremaking this request.""Go and be damned to you!" the young fellow exclaimed with agrim snap. Whereupon the big peasant bellowed out in a blustering fashion:"What? Then you will not tell us at least your destination?"Whereafter the same speaker continued to hold forth on humanity,God, and the human conscience--staring wildly around him as hedid so, waving his arms about, and growing ever morefrantic, until really it was curious to watch him.At length the crowd grew similarly excited, and took toencouraging the speaker with cries of "True! That is so!"As for the young fellow, he listened awhile in silence, withoutmoving. Then, straightening his back, he rose, thrust his handsinto the pockets of his trousers, and, swaying his body to andfro, began to glare at the crowd with greenish eyes which weremanifestly lightening to a vicious gleam. At length, thrustingforth his chest, he cried hoarsely:"So you ask me whither I am bound? I am bound for thebrigands' lair, for the brigands' lair, where, unless you firsttake and put me in fetters, I intend to cut the throat of everyman that I meet. Yes, a hundred murders will I commit, for allfolk will be the same to me, and not a soul will I spare. Aye,the end of my tether is reached, so take and fetter me whilstyou can."His breath was issuing with difficulty, and as he spoke hisshoulders heaved, and his legs trembled beneath him. Also, hisface had turned grey and become distorted with tremors.Upon this, the crowd broke into a gruff, ugly, resentful roar,and edged away from the man. Yet, in doing so, many of itsmembers looked curiously like the man himself in the way thatthey lowered their heads, caught at their breath, and let theireyes flash. Clearly the man was in imminent danger of beingassaulted.Suddenly he recovered his subdued demeanour--he, as it were,thawed in the sunlight: until, as suddenly, his legs gave waybeneath him, and, narrowly escaping injury to his face from thecorner of a bale, he fell forward upon his knees as thoughfelled with an axe. Thereafter, clutching at his throat, heshouted in a strange voice, and crowding the words upon oneanother:"Tell me what I am to do. Is all of it my fault? Long I lay inprison before I was tried and told to go free... yet--"Tearing at his ears and cheeks, he rocked his head to and fro asthough seeking to rend it from its socket. Then he continued:"Yet I am NOT free. Nor is it in my power to say what willbecome of me. For me there remains neither life nor death.""Aha!" exclaimed the big peasant; and at the sound the crowddrew back as in consternation, while some hastened to departaltogether. As for the remainder (numbering a dozen or so), theyherded sullenly, nervously, involuntarily into a mass as the youngfellow continued in distracted tones and with a trembling head:"Oh that I could sleep for the next ten years! For then could Iprove myself, and decide whether I am guilty or not. Last nightI struck a man with a faggot. As I was walking about I sawasleep a man who had angered me, and thereupon thought, 'Come! Ishould like to deal him a blow, but can I actually do it?' Andstrike him I did. Was it my fault? Always I keep asking myself,'Can I, or can I not, do a thing?' Aye, lost, lost am I!"Apparently this outburst caused the man to reach the end of hispower, for presently he sank from knees to heels--then on to hisside, with hands clasping his head, and his tongue finallyuttering the words, "Better had you kill me!"A hush fell, for all now stood confounded and silent, with,about them, a greyer, a more subdued, look which made all moreresemble their fellows. In fact, to all had the atmospherebecome oppressive, as though everyone's breast had had clampedinto it a large, soft clod of humid, viscid earth. Until at lastsomeone said in a low, shamefaced, but friendly, tone:"Good brother, we are not your judges."To which someone else added with an equal measure of gentleness:"Indeed, we may be no better than you.""We pity you, but we must not judge you. Only pity ispermitted."As for the well-dressed peasant, his loud, triumphant utterancewas:"Let God judge him, but men suffer him. Of judging of oneanother there has been enough."And a fifth man remarked to a friend as he walked away:"What are we to make of this? To judge by the book, the youngfellow is at once guilty and not guilty.""Bygones ought to be bygones. Of all courses that is the best.""Yes, for we are too quick. What good can that do?""Aye, what?"At length the dark-browed woman stepped forward. Letting hershawl to her shoulders, straightening hair streaked with greyunder a bright blue scarf, and deftly putting aside a skirt sheso seated herself beside the young fellow as to screen from thecrowd with the height of her figure. Then, raising kindly face,she said civilly, but authoritatively, to the bystanders:"Do all of you go away."Whereupon the crowd began to depart,the big peasant saying as hewent:"There! Just as I foretold has the matter turned out.Conscience HAS asserted itself."Yet the words were spoken without self-complacency, rather,thoughtfully, and with a sense of awe.As for the red-nosed old man who was walking like a shadowbehind the last speaker, he opened his snuff-box, peered thereinwith his moist eyes, and drawled to no one in particular:"How often does one see a man play with conscience, yes, eventhough he be a rogue! He erects that conscience as a screen tohis knaveries and tricks and wiles, and masks the whole with acloud of words. Yes, we know how it is done, even though folkmay stare at him, and say to one another, 'How fervently hissoul is glowing!' Aye, all the time that he is holding his handto his heart he will be dipping the other hand into your pocket."The lover of proverbs, for his part, unbuttoned his jacket,thrust his hands under his coat-tails, and said in a loud voice:"There is a saying that you can trust any wild beast, such as afox or a hedgehog or a toad, but not--""Quite so, dear sir. The common folk are exceedinglydegenerate.""Well, they are not developing as they ought to do.""No, they are over-cramped," was the big peasant's rasped-outcomment. "They have no room for GROWTH.""Yes, they DO grow, but only as regards beard and moustache, asa tree grows to branch and sap."With a glance at the purveyor of proverbs the old man assentedby remarking: "Yes, true it is that the common folk arecramped." Whereafter he thrust a pinch of snuff into hisnostrils, and threw back his head in anticipation of the sneezewhich failed to come. At length, drawing a deep breath throughhis parted lips, he said as he measured the peasant again withhis eyes:"My friend, you are of a sort calculated to last."In answer the peasant nodded."SOME day," he remarked, "we shall get what we want."In front of us now, was Kazan, with the pinnacles of itschurches and mosques piercing the blue sky, and looking likegarlands of exotic blooms. Around them lay the grey wall of theKremlin, and above them soared the grim Tower of Sumbek.Here one and all were due to disembark.I glanced towards the stern once more. The dark-browed woman wasbreaking off morsels from a wheaten scone that was lying in herlap, and saying as she did so:"Presently we will have a cup of tea, and then keep together asfar as Christopol."In response the young fellow edged nearer to her, andthoughtfully eyed the large hands which, though inured to hardwork, could also be very gentle."I have been trodden upon," he said."Trodden upon by whom?""By all. And I am afraid of them.""Why so?""Because I am."Breathing upon a morsel of the scone, the woman offered it himwith the quiet words:"You have had much to bear. Now, shall I tell you my history,or shall we first have tea? "******************************On the bank there was now to be seen the frontage of the gay,wealthy suburb of Uslon, with its brightly-dressed,rainbow-tinted women and girls tripping through the streets, andthe water of its foaming river sparkling hotly, yet dimly, inthe sunlight.It was a scene like a scene beheld in a vision.
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