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Read books online » Fiction » The Cossacks by graf Tolstoy Leo (leveled readers .txt) 📖

Book online «The Cossacks by graf Tolstoy Leo (leveled readers .txt) 📖». Author graf Tolstoy Leo



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storeys high,’ replied

Olenin.

 

‘And have you horses such as ours?’

 

‘I have a hundred horses, worth three or four hundred rubles each,

but they are not like yours. They are trotters, you know…. But

still, I like the horses here best.’

 

‘Well, and did you come here of your own free will, or were you

sent?’ said Lukashka, laughing at him. ‘Look! that’s where you

lost your way,’ he added, ‘you should have turned to the right.’

 

‘I came by my own wish,’ replied Olenin. ‘I wanted to see your

parts and to join some expeditions.’

 

‘I would go on an expedition any day,’ said Lukashka. ‘D’you hear

the jackals howling?’ he added, listening.

 

‘I say, don’t you feel any horror at having killed a man?’ asked

Olenin.

 

‘What’s there to be frightened about? But I should like to join an

expedition,’ Lukashka repeated. ‘How I want to! How I want to!’

 

‘Perhaps we may be going together. Our company is going before the

holidays, and your “hundred” too.’

 

‘And what did you want to come here for? You’ve a house and horses

and serfs. In your place I’d do nothing but make merry! And what

is your rank?’

 

‘I am a cadet, but have been recommended for a commission.’

 

‘Well, if you’re not bragging about your home, if I were you I’d

never have left it! Yes, I’d never have gone away anywhere. Do you

find it pleasant living among us?’

 

‘Yes, very pleasant,’ answered Olenin.

 

It had grown quite dark before, talking in this way, they

approached the village. They were still surrounded by the deep

gloom of the forest. The wind howled through the tree-tops. The

jackals suddenly seemed to be crying close beside them, howling,

chuckling, and sobbing; but ahead of them in the village the

sounds of women’s voices and the barking of dogs could already be

heard; the outlines of the huts were clearly to be seen; lights

gleamed and the air was filled with the peculiar smell of kisyak

smoke. Olenin felt keenly, that night especially, that here in

this village was his home, his family, all his happiness, and that

he never had and never would live so happily anywhere as he did in

this Cossack village. He was so fond of everybody and especially

of Lukashka that night. On reaching home, to Lukashka’s great

surprise, Olenin with his own hands led out of the shed a horse he

had bought in Groznoe—it was not the one he usually rode but

another—not a bad horse though no longer young, and gave it to

Lukashka.

 

‘Why should you give me a present?’ said Lukashka, ‘I have not yet

done anything for you.’

 

‘Really it is nothing,’ answered Olenin. ‘Take it, and you will

give me a present, and we’ll go on an expedition against the enemy

together.’

 

Lukashka became confused.

 

‘But what d’you mean by it? As if a horse were of little value,’

he said without looking at the horse.

 

‘Take it, take it! If you don’t you will offend me. Vanyusha! Take

the grey horse to his house.’

 

Lukashka took hold of the halter.

 

‘Well then, thank you! This is something unexpected, undreamt of.’

 

Olenin was as happy as a boy of twelve.

 

‘Tie it up here. It’s a good horse. I bought it in Groznoe; it

gallops splendidly! Vanyusha, bring us some chikhir. Come into the

hut.’

 

The wine was brought. Lukashka sat down and took the wine-bowl.

 

‘God willing I’ll find a way to repay you,’ he said, finishing his

wine. ‘How are you called?’

 

‘Dmitri Andreich.’

 

‘Well, ‘Mitry Andreich, God bless you. We will be kunaks. Now you

must come to see us. Though we are not rich people still we can

treat a kunak, and I will tell mother in case you need anything—

clotted cream or grapes—and if you come to the cordon I’m your

servant to go hunting or to go across the river, anywhere you

like! There now, only the other day, what a boar I killed, and I

divided it among the Cossacks, but if I had only known, I’d have

given it to you.’ ‘That’s all right, thank you! But don’t harness

the horse, it has never been in harness.’

 

‘Why harness the horse? And there is something else I’ll tell you

if you like,’ said Lukashka, bending his head. ‘I have a kunak,

Girey Khan. He asked me to lie in ambush by the road where they

come down from the mountains. Shall we go together? I’ll not

betray you. I’ll be your murid.’

 

‘Yes, we’ll go; we’ll go some day.’

 

Lukashka seemed quite to have quieted down and to have understood

Olenin’s attitude towards him. His calmness and the ease of his

behaviour surprised Olenin, and he did not even quite like it.

They talked long, and it was late when Lukashka, not tipsy (he

never was tipsy) but having drunk a good deal, left Olenin after

shaking hands.

 

Olenin looked out of the window to see what he would do. Lukashka

went out, hanging his head. Then, having led the horse out of the

gate, he suddenly shook his head, threw the reins of the halter

over its head, sprang onto its back like a cat, gave a wild shout,

and galloped down the street. Olenin expected that Lukishka would

go to share his joy with Maryanka, but though he did not do so

Olenin still felt his soul more at ease than ever before in his

life. He was as delighted as a boy, and could not refrain from

telling Vanyusha not only that he had given Lukashka the horse,

but also why he had done it, as well as his new theory of

happiness. Vanyusha did not approve of his theory, and announced

that ‘l’argent il n’y a pas!’ and that therefore it was all

nonsense.

 

Lukashka rode home, jumped off the horse, and handed it over to

his mother, telling her to let it out with the communal Cossack

herd. He himself had to return to the cordon that same night. His

deaf sister undertook to take the horse, and explained by signs

that when she saw the man who had given the horse, she would bow

down at his feet. The old woman only shook her head at her son’s

story, and decided in her own mind that he had stolen it. She

therefore told the deaf girl to take it to the herd before

daybreak.

 

Lukashka went back alone to the cordon pondering over Olenin’s

action. Though he did not consider the horse a good one, yet it

was worth at least forty rubles and Lukashka was very glad to have

the present. But why it had been given him he could not at all

understand, and therefore he did not experience the least feeling

of gratitude. On the contrary, vague suspicions that the cadet had

some evil intentions filled his mind. What those intentions were

he could not decide, but neither could he admit the idea that a

stranger would give him a horse worth forty rubles for nothing,

just out of kindness; it seemed impossible. Had he been drunk one

might understand it! He might have wished to show off. But the

cadet had been sober, and therefore must have wished to bribe him

to do something wrong. ‘Eh, humbug!’ thought Lukashka. ‘Haven’t I

got the horse and we’ll see later on. I’m not a fool myself and we

shall see who’ll get the better of the other,’ he thought, feeling

the necessity of being on his guard, and therefore arousing in

himself unfriendly feelings towards Olenin. He told no one how he

had got the horse. To some he said he had bought it, to others he

replied evasively. However, the truth soon got about in the

village, and Lukashka’s mother and Maryanka, as well as Elias

Vasilich and other Cossacks, when they heard of Olenin’s

unnecessary gift, were perplexed, and began to be on their guard

against the cadet. But despite their fears his action aroused in

them a great respect for his simplicity and wealth.

 

‘Have you heard,’ said one, ‘that the cadet quartered on Elias

Vasilich has thrown a fifty-ruble horse at Lukashka? He’s

rich! …’

 

‘Yes, I heard of it,’ replied another profoundly, ‘he must have

done him some great service. We shall see what will come of this

cadet. Eh! what luck that Snatcher has!’

 

‘Those cadets are crafty, awfully crafty,’ said a third. ‘See if

he don’t go setting fire to a building, or doing something!’

Chapter XXIII

Olenin’s life went on with monotonous regularity. He had little

intercourse with the commanding officers or with his equals. The

position of a rich cadet in the Caucasus was peculiarly

advantageous in this respect. He was not sent out to work, or for

training. As a reward for going on an expedition he was

recommended for a commission, and meanwhile he was left in peace.

The officers regarded him as an aristocrat and behaved towards him

with dignity. Cardplaying and the officers’ carousals accompanied

by the soldier-singers, of which he had had experience when he was

with the detachment, did not seem to him attractive, and he also

avoided the society and life of the officers in the village. The

life of officers stationed in a Cossack village has long had its

own definite form. Just as every cadet or officer when in a fort

regularly drinks porter, plays cards, and discusses the rewards

given for taking part in the expeditions, so in the Cossack

villages he regularly drinks chikhir with his hosts, treats the

girls to sweetmeats and honey, dangles after the Cossack women,

and falls in love, and occasionally marries there. Olenin always

took his own path and had an unconscious objection to the beaten

tracks. And here, too, he did not follow the ruts of a Caucasian

officer’s life.

 

It came quite naturally to him to wake up at daybreak. After

drinking tea and admiring from his porch the mountains, the

morning, and Maryanka, he would put on a tattered ox-hide coat,

sandals of soaked raw hide, buckle on a dagger, take a gun, put

cigarettes and some lunch in a little bag, call his dog, and soon

after five o’clock would start for the forest beyond the village.

Towards seven in the evening he would return tired and hungry with

five or six pheasants hanging from his belt (sometimes with some

other animal) and with his bag of food and cigarettes untouched.

If the thoughts in his head had lain like the lunch and cigarettes

in the bag, one might have seen that during all those fourteen

hours not a single thought had moved in it. He returned morally

fresh, strong, and perfectly happy, and he could not tell what he

had been thinking about all the time. Were they ideas, memories,

or dreams that had been flitting through his mind? They were

frequently all three. He would rouse himself and ask what he had

been thinking about; and would see himself as a Cossack working in

a vineyard with his Cossack wife, or an abrek in the mountains, or

a boar running away from himself. And all the time he kept peering

and watching for a pheasant, a boar, or a deer.

 

In the evening Daddy Eroshka would be sure to be sitting with him.

Vanyusha would bring a jug of chikhir, and they would converse

quietly, drink, and separate to go quite contentedly to bed. The

next day he would again go shooting, again be healthily weary,

again they would sit conversing and drink their fill, and again be

happy. Sometimes on a holiday or day of rest Olenin spent

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