Journey from St. Petersburg to Moscow Irina Reyfman (snow like ashes .TXT) 📖

laugh that my country sprite’s belly is uncorseted. Hold on, my dear dove, I shall laugh a bit at you too. Here we are, more than nine months since marriage and your three-quarter arshin figure is already ruined. And when you get as far as childbirth, then you’ll sing a different tune. May God grant that be no more than a laughing matter. My dear brother-in-law goes around feeling blue. He has already thrown into the fire all your corset laces. He has removed the stays from your dresses but it’s too late—no way can he straighten those limbs of yours that grew crooked.—Grieve, my dear brother-in-law, grieve. Heeding the deplorable fashion known for causing the death of women in childbirth, for you our mother has laid up grief for many years to come, illness for her daughter, a weak constitution for your children. Illness now brandishes over her head the fatal knife and if it does not touch your spouse’s life, thank chance; and if you believe that Divine Providence is concerned with the matter, then thank Providence if you like.—But I haven’t yet finished with these city ladies.—This is what habit does; no wish to have done with them. And, honestly, I’d not have parted from you if I could have persuaded you not to disguise with rouge your faces and sincerity. And now, goodbye. —

While I gazed at the rustic nymphs washing dresses, my carriage left without me. I intended to follow it on foot when one wench who looked about twenty and was, of course, no more than seventeen, laying her wet laundry on the carrying pole, took the same road as I. Drawing level with her, I began a conversation with her. “Do you not find it hard to carry such a heavy load, my dear (what your name is I do not know)?” “My name is Anna, and my load is not heavy.65 And even if it were heavy, I would not have asked you, Master, to aid me.” “Why be so stern Annushka, my soul, I wish you no harm.” “Thank you, thanks. We often see rakes like you. Please, be on your way.” “Anyutushka, honestly, I am not how I seem to you and am not like those about whom you speak. They, I venture, do not initiate their conversation with village girls as I have, but always begin with a kiss; but even if I were to kiss you then it would only be, of course, as though you were my very own sister.” “Do not sidle up too close, please. I have heard stories of this kind; and if you intend no harm, what do you want from me?” “Annushka, my soul, I would like to know whether you have a mother and father, how you live, richly or scantily, or cheerfully, and whether you have a bridegroom.” “And what’s it to you, Master? This is the first time in my life I hear such speeches.” “From which you may judge, Anyuta, that I am not a villain, do not wish to bully or dishonor you. I love women because their constitution is made in a way that suits my capacity for tenderness; and I love country or peasant women even more because they are still ignorant of dissembling, do not assume the cover of feigned love, but when they love they love with all their heart and sincerely….” All this time the girl looked at me, her eyes popping with astonishment. And it could only be this way, since who does not know how impudently the nobleman’s bold hand grasps after tricks indecent and offensive to the chastity of country girls? In the eyes of old and young members of the nobility, these creatures were made for their delectation. They behave as you’d expect, especially with the unfortunate subjected to their commands. During the recent Pugachev disturbance, when all servitors took up arms against their masters, some peasants (this story is not untrue) tied up their master and were taking him to certain execution. What was the reason for this? He had been in every respect a good and humane master, but a husband was insecure concerning his wife and a father concerning his daughter. Every night the master’s scouts fetched for him a woman he had chosen that day to be sacrificed in dishonor. It was known in the village that he had defiled sixty girls, violating their virginity. When it arrived, a detachment of soldiers rescued this barbarian from the hands of his angry peasants. Stupid peasants, you sought justice from a Pretender!66 Why did you not inform your legal authorities about this? They would have condemned your master to civil death and you would have remained innocent. Now, however, the villain has been saved. Blessed is he if the immediate sight of death has changed his way of thinking and altered the flow of his vital juices.—But we said that the peasant is dead in the eyes of the law…. No, no, he is alive, he will be alive, if he wants it….

“If, Sir, you are not jesting,” said Anyuta, “then this is what I will tell you. I have no father, he died about two years ago. I have a mother and younger sister. Dad left us five horses and three cows. We have enough small livestock and poultry, but we do not have a worker at home. They wanted to arrange my marriage into a wealthy household to a ten-year-old lad, but I did not want this. What do I want with such a child: I will not love him. And by the time he grows up I will be old and he will start to chase after others. They also say that family’s father-in-law himself sleeps with the young daughters-in-law while the sons are growing up. That is why I had no wish to join his family. I would like someone my own age. My husband will be the one I love, and