'I don't know.'
'You tell her to come.'
'Very well.'
'Tell her I have a present for her.'
'And a present for me too?'
'Yes, you too.'
Vanya sighed.
'No; I don't want one. Better give it to her; she is so kind to us at home.'
And Vanya laid his head down again on the ground. Pavel got up and took the empty pot in his hand.
'Where are you going?' Fedya asked him.
'To the river, to get water; I want some water to drink.'
The dogs got up and followed him.
'Take care you don't fall into the river!' Ilyusha cried after him.
'Why should he fall in?' said Fedya. 'He will be careful.'
'Yes, he will be careful. But all kinds of things happen; he will stoop over, perhaps, to draw the water, and the water-spirit will clutch him by the hand, and drag him to him. Then they will say, 'The boy fell into the water.' … Fell in, indeed! … 'There, he has crept in among the reeds,' he added, listening.
The reeds certainly 'shished,' as they call it among us, as they were parted.
'But is it true,' asked Kostya, 'that crazy Akulina has been mad ever since she fell into the water?'
'Yes, ever since…. How dreadful she is now! But they say she was a beauty before then. The water-spirit bewitched her. I suppose he did not expect they would get her out so soon. So down there at the bottom he bewitched her.'
(I had met this Akulina more than once. Covered with rags, fearfully thin, with face as black as a coal, blear- eyed and for ever grinning, she would stay whole hours in one place in the road, stamping with her feet, pressing her fleshless hands to her breast, and slowly shifting from one leg to the other, like a wild beast in a cage. She understood nothing that was said to her, and only chuckled spasmodically from time to time.)
'But they say,' continued Kostya, 'that Akulina threw herself into the river because her lover had deceived her.'
'Yes, that was it.'
'And do you remember Vasya? added Kostya, mournfully.
'What Vasya?' asked Fedya.
'Why, the one who was drowned,' replied Kostya,' in this very river. Ah, what a boy he was! What a boy he was! His mother, Feklista, how she loved him, her Vasya! And she seemed to have a foreboding, Feklista did, that harm would come to him from the water. Sometimes, when Vasya went with us boys in the summer to bathe in the river, she used to be trembling all over. The other women did not mind; they passed by with the pails, and went on, but Feklista put her pail down on the ground, and set to calling him, 'Come back, come back, my little joy; come back, my darling!' And no one knows how he was drowned. He was playing on the bank, and his mother was there haymaking; suddenly she hears, as though some one was blowing bubbles through the water, and behold! there was only Vasya's little cap to be seen swimming on the water. You know since then Feklista has not been right in her mind: she goes and lies down at the place where he was drowned; she lies down, brothers, and sings a song— you remember Vasya was always singing a song like that—so she sings it too, and weeps and weeps, and bitterly rails against God.'
'Here is Pavlusha coming,' said Fedya.
Pavel came up to the fire with a full pot in his hand.
'Boys,' he began, after a short silence, 'something bad happened.'
'Oh, what?' asked Kostya hurriedly.
'I heard Vasya's voice.'
They all seemed to shudder.
'What do you mean? what do you mean?' stammered Kostya.
'I don't know. Only I went to stoop down to the water; suddenly I hear my name called in Vasya's voice, as though it came from below water: 'Pavlusha, Pavlusha, come here.' I came away. But I fetched the water, though.'
'Ah, God have mercy upon us!' said the boys, crossing themselves.
'It was the water-spirit calling you, Pavel,' said Fedya; 'we were just talking of Vasya.'
'Ah, it's a bad omen,' said Ilyusha, deliberately.
'Well, never mind, don't bother about it,' Pavel declared stoutly, and he sat down again; 'no one can escape his fate.'
The boys were still. It was clear that Pavel's words had produced a strong impression on them. They began to lie down before the fire as though preparing to go to sleep.
'What is that?' asked Kostya, suddenly lifting his head.
Pavel listened.
'It's the curlews flying and whistling.'
'Where are they flying to?'
'To a land where, they say, there is no winter.'
'But is there such a land?'
'Yes.'
'Is it far away?'
'Far, far away, beyond the warm seas.'
Kostya sighed and shut his eyes.
More than three hours had passed since I first came across the boys. The moon at last had risen; I did not notice it at first; it was such a tiny crescent. This moonless night was as solemn and hushed as it had been at first…. But already many stars, that not long before had been high up in the heavens, were setting over the earth's dark rim; everything around was perfectly still, as it is only still towards morning; all was sleeping the deep unbroken sleep that comes before daybreak. Already the fragrance in the air was fainter; once more a dew seemed falling…. How short are nights in summer!… The boys' talk died down when the fires did. The dogs even were dozing; the horses, so far as I could make out, in the hardly-perceptible, faintly shining light of the stars, were asleep with downcast heads…. I fell into a state of weary unconsciousness, which passed into sleep.
A fresh breeze passed over my face. I opened my eyes; the morning was beginning. The dawn had not yet flushed the sky, but already it was growing light in the east. Everything had become visible, though dimly visible, around. The pale grey sky was growing light and cold and bluish; the stars twinkled with a dimmer light, or disappeared; the earth was wet, the leaves covered with dew, and from the distance came sounds of life and voices, and a light morning breeze went fluttering over the earth. My body responded to it with a faint shudder of delight. I got up quickly and went to the boys. They were all sleeping as though they were tired out round the smouldering fire; only Pavel half rose and gazed intently at me.
I nodded to him, and walked homewards beside the misty river. Before I had walked two miles, already all around me, over the wide dew-drenched prairie, and in front from forest to forest, where the hills were growing green again, and behind, over the long dusty road and the sparkling bushes, flushed with the red glow, and the river faintly blue now under the lifting mist, flowed fresh streams of burning light, first pink, then red and golden…. All things began to stir, to awaken, to sing, to flutter, to speak. On all sides thick drops of dew sparkled in glittering diamonds; to welcome me, pure and clear as though bathed in the freshness of morning, came the notes of a bell, and suddenly there rushed by me, driven by the boys I had parted from, the drove of horses, refreshed and rested….
Sad to say, I must add that in that year Pavel met his end. He was not drowned; he was killed by a fall from his horse. Pity! he was a splendid fellow!
IX
KASSYAN OF FAIR SPRINGS
