The Cossacks by graf Tolstoy Leo (best book series to read TXT) 📕
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It’s all so horrid, so vulgar, and above all—it leads to
nothing!’ But again he was worried by the question of what would
take place; and besides he felt as if bound by a promise. He went
out without having made up his mind one way or the other, but he
walked as far as Beletski’s, and went in there.
The hut in which Beletski lived was like Olenin’s. It was raised
nearly five feet from the ground on wooden piles, and had two
rooms. In the first (which Olenin entered by the steep flight of
steps) feather beds, rugs, blankets, and cushions were tastefully
and handsomely arranged, Cossack fashion, along the main wall. On
the side wall hung brass basins and weapons, while on the floor,
under a bench, lay watermelons and pumpkins. In the second room
there was a big brick oven, a table, and sectarian icons. It was
here that Beletski was quartered, with his camp-bed and his pack
and trunks. His weapons hung on the wall with a little rug behind
them, and on the table were his toilet appliances and some
portraits. A silk dressing-gown had been thrown on the bench.
Beletski himself, clean and good-looking, lay on the bed in his
underclothing, reading Les Trois Mousquetaires.
He jumped up.
‘There, you see how I have arranged things. Fine! Well, it’s good
that you have come. They are working furiously. Do you know what
the pie is made of? Dough with a stuffing of pork and grapes. But
that’s not the point. You just look at the commotion out there!’
And really, on looking out of the window they saw an unusual
bustle going on in the hut. Girls ran in and out, now for one
thing and now for another.
‘Will it soon be ready?’ cried Beletski.
‘Very soon! Why? Is Grandad hungry?’ and from the hut came the
sound of ringing laughter.
Ustenka, plump, small, rosy, and pretty, with her sleeves turned
up, ran into Beletski’s hut to fetch some plates.
‘Get away or I shall smash the plates!’ she squeaked, escaping
from Beletski. ‘You’d better come and help,’ she shouted to
Olenin, laughing. ‘And don’t forget to get some refreshments for
the girls.’ (‘Refreshments’ meaning spicebread and sweets.)
‘And has Maryanka come?’
‘Of course! She brought some dough.’
‘Do you know,’ said Beletski, ‘if one were to dress Ustenka up and
clean and polish her up a bit, she’d be better than all our
beauties. Have you ever seen that Cossack woman who married a
colonel; she was charming! Borsheva? What dignity! Where do they
get it…’
‘I have not seen Borsheva, but I think nothing could be better
than the costume they wear here.’
‘Ah, I’m first-rate at fitting into any kind of life,’ said
Beletski with a sigh of pleasure. ‘I’ll go and see what they are
up to.’
He threw his dressing-gown over his shoulders and ran out,
shouting, ‘And you look after the “refreshments”.’
Olenin sent Beletski’s orderly to buy spicebread and honey; but
it suddenly seemed to him so disgusting to give money (as if he
were bribing someone) that he gave no definite reply to the
orderly’s question: ‘How much spicebread with peppermint, and how
much with honey?’
‘Just as you please.’
‘Shall I spend all the money,’ asked the old soldier impressively.
‘The peppermint is dearer. It’s sixteen kopeks.’
‘Yes, yes, spend it all,’ answered Olenin and sat down by the
window, surprised that his heart was thumping as if he were
preparing himself for something serious and wicked.
He heard screaming and shrieking in the girls’ hut when Beletski
went there, and a few moments later saw how he jumped out and ran
down the steps, accompanied by shrieks, bustle, and laughter.
‘Turned out,’ he said.
A little later Ustenka entered and solemnly invited her visitors
to come in: announcing that all was ready.
When they came into the room they saw that everything was really
ready. Ustenka was rearranging the cushions along the wall. On the
table, which was covered by a disproportionately small cloth, was
a decanter of chikhir and some dried fish. The room smelt of dough
and grapes. Some half dozen girls in smart tunics, with their
heads not covered as usual with kerchiefs, were huddled together
in a corner behind the oven, whispering, giggling, and spluttering
with laughter.
‘I humbly beg you to do honour to my patron saint,’ said Ustenka,
inviting her guests to the table.
Olenin noticed Maryanka among the group of girls, who without
exception were all handsome, and he felt vexed and hurt that he
met her in such vulgar and awkward circumstances. He felt stupid
and awkward, and made up his mind to do what Beletski did.
Beletski stepped to the table somewhat solemnly yet with
confidence and ease, drank a glass of wine to Ustenka’s health,
and invited the others to do the same. Ustenka announced that
girls don’t drink. ‘We might with a little honey,’ exclaimed a
voice from among the group of girls. The orderly, who had just
returned with the honey and spice-cakes, was called in. He looked
askance (whether with envy or with contempt) at the gentlemen, who
in his opinion were on the spree; and carefully and
conscientiously handed over to them a piece of honeycomb and the
cakes wrapped up in a piece of greyish paper, and began explaining
circumstantially all about the price and the change, but Beletski
sent him away. Having mixed honey with wine in the glasses, and
having lavishly scattered the three pounds of spice-cakes on the
table, Beletski dragged the girls from their comers by force, made
them sit down at the table, and began distributing the cakes among
them. Olenin involuntarily noticed how Maryanka’s sunburnt but
small hand closed on two round peppermint nuts and one brown one,
and that she did not know what to do with them. The conversation
was halting and constrained, in spite of Ustenka’s and Beletski’s
free and easy manner and their wish to enliven the company. Olenin
faltered, and tried to think of something to say, feeling that he
was exciting curiosity and perhaps provoking ridicule and
infecting the others with his shyness. He blushed, and it seemed
to him that Maryanka in particular was feeling uncomfortable.
‘Most likely they are expecting us to give them some money,’
thought he. ‘How are we to do it? And how can we manage quickest
to give it and get away?’
‘How is it you don’t know your own lodger?’ said Beletski,
addressing Maryanka.
‘How is one to know him if he never comes to see us?’ answered
Maryanka, with a look at Olenin.
Olenin felt frightened, he did not know of what. He flushed and,
hardly knowing what he was saying, remarked: ‘I’m afraid of your
mother. She gave me such a scolding the first time I went in.’
Maryanka burst out laughing. ‘And so you were frightened?’ she
said, and glanced at him and turned away.
It was the first time Olenin had seen the whole of her beautiful
face. Till then he had seen her with her kerchief covering her to
the eyes. It was not for nothing that she was reckoned the beauty
of the village. Ustenka was a pretty girl, small, plump, rosy,
with merry brown eyes, and red lips which were perpetually smiling
and chattering. Maryanka on the contrary was certainly not pretty
but beautiful. Her features might have been considered too
masculine and almost harsh had it not been for her tall stately
figure, her powerful chest and shoulders, and especially the
severe yet tender expression of her long dark eyes which were
darkly shadowed beneath their black brows, and for the gentle
expression of her mouth and smile. She rarely smiled, but her
smile was always striking. She seemed to radiate virginal strength
and health. All the girls were good-looking, but they themselves
and Beletski, and the orderly when he brought in the spice-cakes,
all involuntarily gazed at Maryanka, and anyone addressing the
girls was sure to address her. She seemed a proud and happy queen
among them.
Beletski, trying to keep up the spirit of the party, chattered
incessantly, made the girls hand round chikhir, fooled about with
them, and kept making improper remarks in French about Maryanka’s
beauty to Olenin, calling her ‘yours’ (la votre), and advising him
to behave as he did himself. Olenin felt more and more
uncomfortable. He was devising an excuse to get out and run away
when Beletski announced that Ustenka, whose saint’s day it was,
must offer chikhir to everybody with a kiss. She consented on
condition that they should put money on her plate, as is the
custom at weddings.
‘What fiend brought me to this disgusting feast?’ thought Olenin,
rising to go away.
‘Where are you off to?’
‘I’ll fetch some tobacco,’ he said, meaning to escape, but
Beletski seized his hand.
‘I have some money,’ he said to him in French.
‘One can’t go away, one has to pay here,’ thought Olenin bitterly,
vexed at his own awkwardness. ‘Can’t I really behave like
Beletski? I ought not to have come, but once I am here I must not
spoil their fun. I must drink like a Cossack,’ and taking the
wooden bowl (holding about eight tumblers) he almost filled it
with chikhir and drank it almost all. The girls looked at him,
surprised and almost frightened, as he drank. It seemed to them
strange and not right. Ustenka brought them another glass each,
and kissed them both. ‘There girls, now we’ll have some fun,’ she
said, clinking on the plate the four rubles the men had put there.
Olenin no longer felt awkward, but became talkative.
‘Now, Maryanka, it’s your turn to offer us wine and a kiss,’ said
Beletski, seizing her hand.
‘Yes, I’ll give you such a kiss!’ she said playfully, preparing to
strike at him.
‘One can kiss Grandad without payment,’ said another girl.
‘There’s a sensible girl,’ said Beletski, kissing the struggling
girl. ‘No, you must offer it,’ he insisted, addressing Maryanka.
‘Offer a glass to your lodger.’
And taking her by the hand he led her to the bench and sat her
down beside Olenin.
‘What a beauty,’ he said, turning her head to see it in profile.
Maryanka did not resist but proudly smiling turned her long eyes
towards Olenin.
‘A beautiful girl,’ repeated Beletski.
‘Yes, see what a beauty I am,’ Maryanka’s look seemed to endorse.
Without considering what he was doing Olenin embraced Maryanka and
was going to kiss her, but she suddenly extricated herself,
upsetting Beletski and pushing the top off the table, and sprang
away towards the oven. There was much shouting and laughter. Then
Beletski whispered something to the girls and suddenly they all
ran out into the passage and locked the door behind them.
‘Why did you kiss Beletski and won’t kiss me?’ asked Olenin.
‘Oh, just so. I don’t want to, that’s all!’ she answered, pouting
and frowning. ‘He’s Grandad,’ she added with a smile. She went to
the door and began to bang at it. ‘Why have you locked the door,
you devils?’
‘Well, let them be there and us here,’ said Olenin, drawing closer
to her.
She frowned, and sternly pushed him away with her hand. And again
she appeared so majestically handsome to Olenin that he came to
his senses and felt ashamed of what he was doing. He went to the
door and began pulling at it himself.
‘Beletski! Open the door! What a stupid joke!’
Maryanka again gave a bright
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