Chapter XXI
Suddenly it was as though the sun had shone into his soul. He heardRussian being spoken, and also heard the rapid smooth flow of theTerek, and a few steps farther in front of him saw the brown movingsurface of the river, with the dim-coloured wet sand of its banks andshallows, the distant steppe, the cordon watch-tower outlined above thewater, a saddled and hobbled horse among the brambles, and then themountains opening out before him. The red sun appeared for an instantfrom under a cloud and its last rays glittered brightly along the riverover the reeds, on the watch-tower, and on a group of Cossacks, amongwhom Lukashka's vigorous figure attracted Olenin's involuntaryattention.
Olenin felt that he was again, without any apparent cause, perfectlyhappy. He had come upon the Nizhni-Prototsk post on the Terek, oppositea pro-Russian Tartar village on the other side of the river. Heaccosted the Cossacks, but not finding as yet any excuse for doinganyone a kindness, he entered the hut; nor in the hut did he find anysuch opportunity. The Cossacks received him coldly. On entering the mudhut he lit a cigarette. The Cossacks paid little attention to him,first because he was smoking a cigarette, and secondly because they hadsomething else to divert them that evening. Some hostile Chechens,relatives of the abrek who had been killed, had come from the hillswith a scout to ransom the body; and the Cossacks were waiting fortheir Commanding Officer's arrival from the village. The dead man'sbrother, tall and well shaped with a short cropped beard which was dyedred, despite his very tattered coat and cap was calm and majestic as aking. His face was very like that of the dead abrek. He did not deignto look at anyone, and never once glanced at the dead body, but sittingon his heels in the shade he spat as he smoked his short pipe, andoccasionally uttered some few guttural sounds of command, which wererespectfully listened to by his companion. He was evidently a brave whohad met Russians more than once before in quite other circumstances,and nothing about them could astonish or even interest him. Olenin wasabout to approach the dead body and had begun to look at it when thebrother, looking up at him from under his brows with calm contempt,said something sharply and angrily. The scout hastened to cover thedead man's face with his coat. Olenin was struck by the dignified andstem expression of the brave's face. He began to speak to him, askingfrom what village he came, but the Chechen, scarcely giving him aglance, spat contemptuously and turned away. Olenin was so surprised atthe Chechen not being interested in him that he could only put it downto the man's stupidity or ignorance of Russian; so he turned to thescout, who also acted as interpreter. The scout was as ragged as theother, but instead of being red-haired he was black-haired, restless,with extremely white gleaming teeth and sparkling black eyes. The scoutwillingly entered into conversation and asked for a cigarette.
'There were five brothers,' began the scout in his broken Russian.'This is the third brother the Russians have killed, only two are left.He is a brave, a great brave!' he said, pointing to the Chechen. 'Whenthey killed Ahmet Khan (the dead brave) this one was sitting on theopposite bank among the reeds. He saw it all. Saw him laid in the skiffand brought to the bank. He sat there till the night and wished to killthe old man, but the others would not let him.'
Lukashka went up to the speaker, and sat down. 'Of what village?' askedhe.
'From there in the hills,' replied the scout, pointing to the mistybluish gorge beyond the Terek. 'Do you know Suuk-su? It is about eightmiles beyond that.'
'Do you know Girey Khan in Suuk-su?' asked Lukashka, evidently proud ofthe acquaintance. 'He is my kunak.'
'He is my neighbour,' answered the scout.
'He's a trump!' and Lukashka, evidently much interested, began talkingto the scout in Tartar.
Presently a Cossack captain, with the head of the village, arrived onhorseback with a suite of two Cossacks. The captain--one of the newtype of Cossack officers--wished the Cossacks 'Good health,' but no oneshouted in reply, 'Hail! Good health to your honour,' as is customaryin the Russian Army, and only a few replied with a bow. Some, and amongthem Lukashka, rose and stood erect. The corporal replied that all waswell at the outposts. All this seemed ridiculous: it was as if theseCossacks were playing at being soldiers. But these formalities soongave place to ordinary ways of behaviour, and the captain, who was asmart Cossack just like the others, began speaking fluently in Tartarto the interpreter. They filled in some document, gave it to the scout,and received from him some money. Then they approached the body.
'Which of you is Luke Gavrilov?' asked the captain.
Lukishka took off his cap and came forward.
'I have reported your exploit to the Commander. I don't know what willcome of it. I have recommended you for a cross; you're too young to bemade a sergeant. Can you read?'
'I can't.'
'But what a fine fellow to look at!' said the captain, again playingthe commander. 'Put on your cap. Which of the Gavrilovs does he comeof? ... the Broad, eh?'
'His nephew,' replied the corporal.
'I know, I know. Well, lend a hand, help them,' he said, turning to theCossacks.
Lukashka's face shone with joy and seemed handsomer than usual. Hemoved away from the corporal, and having put on his cap sat down besideOlenin.
When the body had been carried to the skiff the brother Chechendescended to the bank. The Cossacks involuntarily stepped aside to lethim pass. He jumped into the boat and pushed off from the bank with hispowerful leg, and now, as Olenin noticed, for the first time threw arapid glance at all the Cossacks and then abruptly asked his companiona question. The latter answered something and pointed to Lukashka. TheChechen looked at him and, turning slowly away, gazed at the oppositebank. That look expressed not hatred but cold contempt. He again madesome remark.
'What is he saying?' Olenin asked of the fidgety scout.
'Yours kill ours, ours slay yours. It's always the same,' replied thescout, evidently inventing, and he smiled, showing his white teeth, ashe jumped into the skiff.
The dead man's brother sat motionless, gazing at the opposite bank. Hewas so full of hatred and contempt that there was nothing on this sideof the river that moved his curiosity. The scout, standing up at oneend of the skiff and dipping his paddle now on one side now on theother, steered skilfully while talking incessantly. The skiff becamesmaller and smaller as it moved obliquely across the stream, the voicesbecame scarcely audible, and at last, still within sight, they landedon the opposite bank where their horses stood waiting. There theylifted out the corpse and (though the horse shied) laid it across oneof the saddles, mounted, and rode at a foot-pace along the road past aTartar village from which a crowd came out to look at them. TheCossacks on the Russian side of the river were highly satisfied andjovial. Laughter and jokes were heard on all sides. The captain and thehead of the village entered the mud hut to regale themselves. Lukashka,vainly striving to impart a sedate expression to his merry face, satdown with his elbows on his knees beside Olenin and whittled away at astick.
'Why do you smoke?' he said with assumed curiosity. 'Is it good?'
He evidently spoke because he noticed Olenin felt ill at ease andisolated among the Cossacks.
'It's just a habit,' answered Olenin. 'Why?'
'H'm, if one of us were to smoke there would be a row! Look there now,the mountains are not far off,' continued Lukashka, 'yet you can't getthere! How will you get back alone? It's getting dark. I'll take you,if you like. You ask the corporal to give me leave.'
'What a fine fellow!' thought Olenin, looking at the Cossack's brightface. He remembered Maryanka and the kiss he had heard by the gate, andhe was sorry for Lukashka and his want of culture. 'What confusion itis,' he thought. 'A man kills another and is happy and satisfied withhimself as if he had done something excellent. Can it be that nothingtells him that it is not a reason for any rejoicing, and that happinesslies not in killing, but in sacrificing oneself?'
'Well, you had better not meet him again now, mate!' said one of theCossacks who had seen the skiff off, addressing Lukashka. 'Did you hearhim asking about you?'
Lukashka raised his head.
'My godson?' said Lukashka, meaning by that word the dead Chechen.
'Your godson won't rise, but the red one is the godson's brother!'
'Let him thank God that he got off whole himself,' replied Lukashka.
'What are you glad about?' asked Olenin. 'Supposing your brother hadbeen killed; would you be glad?'
The Cossack looked at Olenin with laughing eyes. He seemed to haveunderstood all that Olenin wished to say to him, but to be above suchconsiderations.
'Well, that happens too! Don't our fellows get killed sometimes?'
The Cossacks: A Tale of 1852 Page 21