Short Fiction by Ivan Bunin (chrysanthemum read aloud txt) 📕

was incredulous that this very Pashka was a murderer, and he was picturing to himself a small, dead Georgian, whom two soldiers were dragging along by his chains, through the mud, surrounded by a dark rainy night.

“Well, and what else was I talking about?” answered Theodot, somewhat rudely, and began speaking a trifle livelier. “You can’t understand this business, you ain’t tried yet to live on your own; but to live at home with mamma is a thing anyone can do. That’s just what I was talking about⁠—that a sin like that came about through just nothing at all. I slaughtered three sheep all on account of her,” said he, addressing the old man. “I took in nine and a half for the sheep, and paid eight for her. She didn’t cost me cheap, at that.⁠ ⁠… And for another thing, I started having rows with my old woman almost every day. Well, as I was saying, I got a triflin’ sum, gave away eight for the she-goat; then, too, I bought a thing or two for the household, a matter here and there, got some little whistles for the youngsters, and started off for home. I pegged along and pegged along, and came home toward morning. I look⁠—and I am shy a half; that meant that I must have shoved it in my pocket and sown it as I went. The old woman started counting the money. ‘Where,’ says she, ‘is the half? Did you swallow it? I told you, you fool, to sell the sheep as carcasses, and to keep the skins for yourself.⁠ ⁠…’ One word led to another, and then a row began⁠—may the Lord save me from such another! My old woman, to tell the truth, is such a dog as you’d have to look through all the county to find the like of.⁠ ⁠…”

“That goes without saying,” Pashka put it in a businesslike manner. “The more you beat ’em, the better they be.”

“That’s understood,” said Theodot. “Well, she came to her senses and gave in. And when she had milked the she-goat, she became downright glad: the goat turned out to be a good milker, and the milk was fine. So we started in rejoicing. We drove it into the flock. I gave the little shepherd boys something for tobacco, treated them to a cup of vodka each.⁠ ⁠… Otherwise they would train her to butt the sheep in the belly, the sons of bitches.⁠ ⁠… Only when the flock comes back at evening⁠—I look, and my goat ain’t there. I ask the shepherd: ‘How is it our she-goat ain’t here?’ ‘Why,’ says he, ‘we drove the herd to the wasteland near the woods; your goat started playing with the cows, and tackled the bull; she’d back away from him, get one good running start, and then let herself fly straight between his eyes! He got so petered out on account of her that he began hiding from her behind the cows, and when we’d go for her to chase her off, she’d scoot into the oats.⁠ ⁠… She just knocked us off our feet! And then she ran away: the helper ran after her; he ran all through the forest, couldn’t find her nowhere⁠—just like she’d fallen through the earth.

“Well, right you were ’bout that goat being poison!” remarked the old man.

“A-a!” said Theodot, malignantly. “Why this ain’t nothin’ at all⁠—you just listen to what’s coming! When this same she-goat had disappeared, me and the old woman plumb lost our heads. Well, now, thinks we, it’s bye-bye; there goes our good money; she sure will make a mouthful for some wolf. But, of course, we don’t reckon at all on the fact that it would be far better if she was to go to all the devils. Soon as day came we ran for the forest; we left nary a likely place untouched, I don’t think; we beat up the entire forest to the last twig⁠—she wasn’t nowheres, and that’s all there was to it! Gawd knows how I grieved; however I went to ploughing⁠—it was just ploughing time then. I took a bit of bread with me, wrapped up in a kerchief, laying it down near the edge of the field where I was working. Now, on another mound, there was one of our village lads ploughing⁠—suddenly, I hear him shouting something, pointing with his hand. I look around and just gasp: there was the she-goat! She had dragged out the little bundle, seizing it in her teeth; she had shaken it loose and was standing, jerking her beard, and eating the bread.⁠ ⁠… I dropped my plough as fast as I could and went for her. I go after her, and she goes away from me. I go after her, and she goes away from me⁠—she’d run a little ways, and stop, and munch the bread⁠—a lot she cared! And such a happy and a clever carcass she was⁠—she watched every move I made. I had my heart set on her, I sure wanted to catch her. I just could have smashed her to bits, it seems! She gobbled down the bread and went off; she’d turn around and give me a look, shaking her tail⁠—well, just making fun of me!”

“No use talking⁠—it’s a carefree creature!” said the old man.

“That’s just what I’m saying!” exclaimed Theodot, encouraged by the sympathy. “That’s just what I’m talking about⁠—that she downright ruined us! There hadn’t even a week passed, when everybody had it in for me: ‘Your goat,’ says they, ‘as good as lives amongst our grain.’ She trampled down a whole eighth of an acre of my own, tearing down all the ears of oats. Then one day a thunderstorm came up; the lightning started in flashing, and the rain poured down⁠—I looked and I see my white she-goat sailing along with all her might straight toward our place, bleating like she was scared out of her own voice⁠—and then she pops straight into our doorway. I started off as