The Cossacks: A Tale of 1852
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Chapter V
It was one of those wonderful evenings that occur only in the Caucasus.The sun had sunk behind the mountains but it was still light. Theevening glow had spread over a third of the sky, and against itsbrilliancy the dull white immensity of the mountains was sharplydefined. The air was rarefied, motionless, and full of sound. Theshadow of the mountains reached for several miles over the steppe. Thesteppe, the opposite side of the river, and the roads, were alldeserted. If very occasionally mounted men appeared, the Cossacks inthe cordon and the Chechens in their aouls (villages) watched them withsurprised curiosity and tried to guess who those questionable men couldbe. At nightfall people from fear of one another flock to theirdwellings, and only birds and beasts fearless of man prowl in thosedeserted spaces. Talking merrily, the women who have been tying up thevines hurry away from the gardens before sunset. The vineyards, likeall the surrounding district, are deserted, but the villages becomevery animated at that time of the evening. From all sides, walking,riding, or driving in their creaking carts, people move towards thevillage. Girls with their smocks tucked up and twigs in their hands runchatting merrily to the village gates to meet the cattle that arecrowding together in a cloud of dust and mosquitoes which they bringwith them from the steppe. The well-fed cows and buffaloes disperse ata run all over the streets and Cossack women in coloured beshmets go toand fro among them. You can hear their merry laughter and shrieksmingling with the lowing of the cattle. There an armed and mountedCossack, on leave from the cordon, rides up to a hut and, leaningtowards the window, knocks. In answer to the knock the handsome head ofa young woman appears at the window and you can hear caressing,laughing voices. There a tattered Nogay labourer, with prominentcheekbones, brings a load of reeds from the steppes, turns his creakingcart into the Cossack captain's broad and clean courtyard, and liftsthe yoke off the oxen that stand tossing their heads while he and hismaster shout to one another in Tartar. Past a puddle that reachesnearly across the street, a barefooted Cossack woman with a bundle offirewood on her back makes her laborious way by clinging to the fences,holding her smock high and exposing her white legs. A Cossack returningfrom shooting calls out in jest: 'Lift it higher, shameless thing!' andpoints his gun at her. The woman lets down her smock and drops thewood. An old Cossack, returning home from fishing with his trouserstucked up and his hairy grey chest uncovered, has a net across hisshoulder containing silvery fish that are still struggling; and to takea short cut climbs over his neighbour's broken fence and gives a tug tohis coat which has caught on the fence. There a woman is dragging a drybranch along and from round the corner comes the sound of an axe.Cossack children, spinning their tops wherever there is a smooth placein the street, are shrieking; women are climbing over fences to avoidgoing round. From every chimney rises the odorous kisyak smoke. Fromevery homestead comes the sound of increased bustle, precursor to thestillness of night.
Granny Ulitka, the wife of the Cossack cornet who is also teacher inthe regimental school, goes out to the gates of her yard like the otherwomen, and waits for the cattle which her daughter Maryanka is drivingalong the street. Before she has had time fully to open the wattle gatein the fence, an enormous buffalo cow surrounded by mosquitoes rushesup bellowing and squeezes in. Several well-fed cows slowly follow her,their large eyes gazing with recognition at their mistress as theyswish their sides with their tails. The beautiful and shapely Maryankaenters at the gate and throwing away her switch quickly slams the gateto and rushes with all the speed of her nimble feet to separate anddrive the cattle into their sheds. 'Take off your slippers, you devil'swench!' shouts her mother, 'you've worn them into holes!' Maryanka isnot at all offended at being called a 'devil's wench', but accepting itas a term of endearment cheerfully goes on with her task. Her face iscovered with a kerchief tied round her head. She is wearing a pinksmock and a green beshmet. She disappears inside the lean-to shed inthe yard, following the big fat cattle; and from the shed comes hervoice as she speaks gently and persuasively to the buffalo: 'Won't shestand still? What a creature! Come now, come old dear!' Soon the girland the old woman pass from the shed to the dairy carrying two largepots of milk, the day's yield. From the dairy chimney rises a thincloud of kisyak smoke: the milk is being used to make into clottedcream. The girl makes up the fire while her mother goes to the gate.Twilight has fallen on the village. The air is full of the smell ofvegetables, cattle, and scented kisyak smoke. From the gates and alongthe streets Cossack women come running, carrying lighted rags. From theyards one hears the snorting and quiet chewing of the cattle eased oftheir milk, while in the street only the voices of women and childrensound as they call to one another. It is rare on a week-day to hear thedrunken voice of a man.
One of the Cossack wives, a tall, masculine old woman, approachesGranny Ulitka from the homestead opposite and asks her for a light. Inher hand she holds a rag.
'Have you cleared up. Granny?'
'The girl is lighting the fire. Is it fire you want?' says GrannyUlitka, proud of being able to oblige her neighbour.
Both women enter the hut, and coarse hands unused to dealing with smallarticles tremblingly lift the lid of a matchbox, which is a rarity inthe Caucasus. The masculine-looking new-comer sits down on the doorstepwith the evident intention of having a chat.
'And is your man at the school. Mother?' she asked.
'He's always teaching the youngsters. Mother. But he writes that he'llcome home for the holidays,' said the cornet's wife.
'Yes, he's a clever man, one sees; it all comes useful.'
'Of course it does.'
'And my Lukashka is at the cordon; they won't let him come home,' saidthe visitor, though the cornet's wife had known all this long ago. Shewanted to talk about her Lukashka whom she had lately fitted out forservice in the Cossack regiment, and whom she wished to marry to thecornet's daughter, Maryanka.
'So he's at the cordon?'
'He is. Mother. He's not been home since last holidays. The other day Isent him some shirts by Fomushkin. He says he's all right, and that hissuperiors are satisfied. He says they are looking out for abreks again.Lukashka is quite happy, he says.'
'Ah well, thank God,' said the cornet's wife.' "Snatcher" is certainlythe only word for him.' Lukashka was surnamed 'the Snatcher' because ofhis bravery in snatching a boy from a watery grave, and the cornet'swife alluded to this, wishing in her turn to say something agreeable toLukashka's mother.
'I thank God, Mother, that he's a good son! He's a fine fellow,everyone praises him,' says Lukashka's mother. 'All I wish is to gethim married; then I could die in peace.'
'Well, aren't there plenty of young women in the village?' answered thecornet's wife slyly as she carefully replaced the lid of the matchboxwith her horny hands.
'Plenty, Mother, plenty,' remarked Lukashka's mother, shaking her head.'There's your girl now, your Maryanka--that's the sort of girl! You'dhave to search through the whole place to find such another!' Thecornet's wife knows what Lukashka's mother is after, but though shebelieves him to be a good Cossack she hangs back: first because she isa cornet's wife and rich, while Lukashka is the son of a simple Cossackand fatherless, secondly because she does not want to part with herdaughter yet, but chiefly because propriety demands it.
'Well, when Maryanka grows up she'll be marriageable too,' she answerssoberly and modestly.
'I'll send the matchmakers to you--I'll send them! Only let me get thevineyard done and then we'll come and make our bows to you,' saysLukashka's mother. 'And we'll make our bows to Elias Vasilich too.'
'Elias, indeed!' says the cornet's wife proudly. 'It's to me you mustspeak! All in its own good time.'
Lukashka's mother sees by the stern face of the cornet's wife that itis not the time to say anything more just now, so she lights her ragwith the match and says, rising: 'Don't refuse us, think of my words.I'll go, it is time to light the fire.'
As she crosses the road swinging the burning rag, she meets Maryanka,who bows.
'Ah, she's a re
gular queen, a splendid worker, that girl!' she thinks,looking at the beautiful maiden. 'What need for her to grow any more?It's time she was married and to a good home; married to Lukashka!'
But Granny Ulitka had her own cares and she remained sitting on thethreshold thinking hard about something, till the girl called her.