The Cossacks: A Tale of 1852

by graf Leo Tolstoy

  Chapter XLI

  'Are they far?' was all Lukashka said.

  Just then they heard a sharp shot some thirty paces off. The corporalsmiled slightly.

  'Our Gurka is having shots at them,' he said, nodding in the directionof the shot.

  Having gone a few paces farther they saw Gurka sitting behind asand-hillock and loading his gun. To while away the time he wasexchanging shots with the ABREKS, who were behind another sand-heap. Abullet came whistling from their side.

  The cornet was pale and grew confused. Lukashka dismounted from hishorse, threw the reins to one of the other Cossacks, and went up toGurka. Olenin also dismounted and, bending down, followed Lukashka.They had hardly reached Gurka when two bullets whistled above them.

  Lukashka looked around laughing at Olenin and stooped a little.

  'Look out or they will kill you, Dmitri Andreich,' he said. 'You'dbetter go away--you have no business here.' But Olenin wantedabsolutely to see the ABREKS.

  From behind the mound he saw caps and muskets some two hundred pacesoff. Suddenly a little cloud of smoke appeared from thence, and again abullet whistled past. The ABREKS were hiding in a marsh at the foot ofthe hill. Olenin was much impressed by the place in which they sat. Inreality it was very much like the rest of the steppe, but because theABREKS sat there it seemed to detach itself from all the rest and tohave become distinguished. Indeed it appeared to Olenin that it was thevery spot for ABREKS to occupy. Lukashka went back to his horse andOlenin followed him.

  'We must get a hay-cart,' said Lukashka, 'or they will be killing someof us. There behind that mound is a Nogay cart with a load of hay.'

  The cornet listened to him and the corporal agreed. The cart of hay wasfetched, and the Cossacks, hiding behind it, pushed it forward. Oleninrode up a hillock from whence he could see everything. The hay-cartmoved on and the Cossacks crowded together behind it. The Cossacksadvanced, but the Chechens, of whom there were nine, sat with theirknees in a row and did not fire.

  All was quiet. Suddenly from the Chechens arose the sound of a mournfulsong, something like Daddy Eroshka's 'Ay day, dalalay.' The Chechensknew that they could not escape, and to prevent themselves from beingtempted to take to flight they had strapped themselves together, kneeto knee, had got their guns ready, and were singing their death-song.

  The Cossacks with their hay-cart drew closer and closer, and Oleninexpected the firing to begin at any moment, but the silence was onlybroken by the abreks' mournful song. Suddenly the song ceased; therewas a sharp report, a bullet struck the front of the cart, and Chechencurses and yells broke the silence and shot followed on shot and onebullet after another struck the cart. The Cossacks did not fire andwere now only five paces distant.

  Another moment passed and the Cossacks with a whoop rushed out on bothsides from behind the cart--Lukashka in front of them. Olenin heardonly a few shots, then shouting and moans. He thought he saw smoke andblood, and abandoning his horse and quite beside himself he ran towardsthe Cossacks. Horror seemed to blind him. He could not make outanything, but understood that all was over. Lukashka, pale as death,was holding a wounded Chechen by the arms and shouting, 'Don't killhim. I'll take him alive!' The Chechen was the red-haired man who hadfetched his brother's body away after Lukashka had killed him. Lukashkawas twisting his arms. Suddenly the Chechen wrenched himself free andfired his pistol. Lukashka fell, and blood began to flow from hisstomach. He jumped up, but fell again, swearing in Russian and inTartar. More and more blood appeared on his clothes and under him. SomeCossacks approached him and began loosening his girdle. One of them,Nazarka, before beginning to help, fumbled for some time, unable to puthis sword in its sheath: it would not go the right way. The blade ofthe sword was blood-stained.

  The Chechens with their red hair and clipped moustaches lay dead andhacked about. Only the one we know of, who had fired at Lukashka,though wounded in many places was still alive. Like a wounded hawk allcovered with blood (blood was flowing from a wound under his righteye), pale and gloomy, he looked about him with wide--open excited eyesand clenched teeth as he crouched, dagger in hand, still prepared todefend himself. The cornet went up to him as if intending to pass by,and with a quick movement shot him in the ear. The Chechen started up,but it was too late, and he fell.

  The Cossacks, quite out of breath, dragged the bodies aside and tookthe weapons from them. Each of the red-haired Chechens had been a man,and each one had his own individual expression. Lukashka was carried tothe cart. He continued to swear in Russian and in Tartar.

  'No fear, I'll strangle him with my hands. ANNA SENI!' he cried,struggling. But he soon became quiet from weakness.

  Olenin rode home. In the evening he was told that Lukashka was atdeath's door, but that a Tartar from beyond the river had undertaken tocure him with herbs.

  The bodies were brought to the village office. The women and the littleboys hastened to look at them.

  It was growing dark when Olenin returned, and he could not collecthimself after what he had seen. But towards night memories of theevening before came rushing to his mind. He looked out of the window,Maryanka was passing to and fro from the house to the cowshed, puttingthings straight. Her mother had gone to the vineyard and her father tothe office. Olenin could not wait till she had quite finished her work,but went out to meet her. She was in the hut standing with her backtowards him. Olenin thought she felt shy.

  'Maryanka,' said he, 'I say, Maryanka! May I come in?'

  She suddenly turned. There was a scarcely perceptible trace of tears inher eyes and her face was beautiful in its sadness. She looked at himin silent dignity.

  Olenin again said:

  'Maryanka, I have come--'

  'Leave me alone!' she said. Her face did not change but the tears randown her cheeks.

  'What are you crying for? What is it?'

  'What?' she repeated in a rough voice. 'Cossacks have been killed,that's what for.'

  'Lukashka?' said Olenin.

  'Go away! What do you want?'

  'Maryanka!' said Olenin, approaching her.

  'You will never get anything from me!'

  'Maryanka, don't speak like that,' Olenin entreated.

  'Get away. I'm sick of you!' shouted the girl, stamping her foot, andmoved threateningly towards him. And her face expressed suchabhorrence, such contempt, and such anger that Olenin suddenlyunderstood that there was no hope for him, and that his firstimpression of this woman's inaccessibility had been perfectly correct.

  Olenin said nothing more, but ran out of the hut.

  Chapter XLII

  For two hours after returning home he lay on his bed motionless. Thenhe went to his company commander and obtained leave to visit the staff.Without taking leave of anyone, and sending Vanyusha to settle hisaccounts with his landlord, he prepared to leave for the fort where hisregiment was stationed. Daddy Eroshka was the only one to see him off.They had a drink, and then a second, and then yet another. Again as onthe night of his departure from Moscow, a three-horsed conveyance stoodwaiting at the door. But Olenin did not confer with himself as he haddone then, and did not say to himself that all he had thought and donehere was 'not it'. He did not promise himself a new life. He lovedMaryanka more than ever, and knew that he could never be loved by her.

  'Well, good-bye, my lad!' said Daddy Eroshka. 'When you go on anexpedition, be wise and listen to my words--the words of an old man.When you are out on a raid or the like (you know I'm an old wolf andhave seen things), and when they begin firing, don't get into a crowdwhere there are many men. When you fellows get frightened you alwaystry to get close together with a lot of others. You think it is merrierto be with others, but that's where it is worst of all! They always aimat a crowd. Now I used to keep farther away from the others and wentalone, and I've never been wounded. Yet what things haven't I seen inmy day?'

  'But you've got a bullet in your back,' remarked Vanyusha, who wasclearing up the room.

  'That was the Cossacks fooling about,' answered Erosh
ka.

  'Cossacks? How was that?' asked Olenin.

  'Oh, just so. We were drinking. Vanka Sitkin, one of the Cossacks, gotmerry, and puff! he gave me one from his pistol just here.'

  'Yes, and did it hurt?' asked Olenin. 'Vanyusha, will you soon beready?' he added.

  'Ah, where's the hurry! Let me tell you. When he banged into me, thebullet did not break the bone but remained here. And I say: "You'vekilled me, brother. Eh! What have you done to me? I won't let you off!You'll have to stand me a pailful!"'

  'Well, but did it hurt?' Olenin asked again, scarcely listening to thetale.

  'Let me finish. He stood a pailful, and we drank it, but the blood wenton flowing. The whole room was drenched and covered with blood. GrandadBurlak, he says, "The lad will give up the ghost. Stand a bottle of thesweet sort, or we shall have you taken up!" They bought more drink, andboozed and boozed--'

  'Yes, but did it hurt you much?' Olenin asked once more.

  'Hurt, indeed! Don't interrupt: I don't like it. Let me finish. Weboozed and boozed till morning, and I fell asleep on the top of theoven, drunk. When I woke in the morning I could not unbend myselfanyhow--'

  'Was it very painful?' repeated Olenin, thinking that now he would atlast get an answer to his question.

  'Did I tell you it was painful? I did not say it was painful, but Icould not bend and could not walk.'

  'And then it healed up?' said Olenin, not even laughing, so heavy washis heart.

  'It healed up, but the bullet is still there. Just feel it!' Andlifting his shirt he showed his powerful back, where just near the bonea bullet could be felt and rolled about.

  'Feel how it rolls,' he said, evidently amusing himself with the bulletas with a toy. 'There now, it has rolled to the back.'

  'And Lukashka, will he recover?' asked Olenin.

  'Heaven only knows! There's no doctor. They've gone for one.'

  'Where will they get one? From Groznoe?' asked Olenin. 'No, my lad.Were I the Tsar I'd have hung all your Russian doctors long ago.Cutting is all they know! There's our Cossack Baklashka, no longer areal man now that they've cut off his leg! That shows they're fools.What's Baklashka good for now? No, my lad, in the mountains there arereal doctors. There was my chum, Vorchik, he was on an expedition andwas wounded just here in the chest. Well, your doctors gave him up, butone of theirs came from the mountains and cured him! They understandherbs, my lad!'

  'Come, stop talking rubbish,' said Olenin. 'I'd better send a doctorfrom head-quarters.'

  'Rubbish!' the old man said mockingly. 'Fool, fool! Rubbish. You'llsend a doctor!--If yours cured people, Cossacks and Chechens would goto you for treatment, but as it is your officers and colonels send tothe mountains for doctors. Yours are all humbugs, all humbugs.'

  Olenin did not answer. He agreed only too fully that all was humbug inthe world in which he had lived and to which he was now returning.

  'How is Lukashka? You've been to see him?' he asked.

  'He just lies as if he were dead. He does not eat nor drink. Vodka isthe only thing his soul accepts. But as long as he drinks vodka it'swell. I'd be sorry to lose the lad. A fine lad--a brave, like me. I toolay dying like that once. The old women were already wailing. My headwas burning. They had already laid me out under the holy icons. So Ilay there, and above me on the oven little drummers, no bigger thanthis, beat the tattoo. I shout at them and they drum all the harder.'(The old man laughed.) 'The women brought our church elder. They weregetting ready to bury me. They said, "He defiled himself with worldlyunbelievers; he made merry with women; he ruined people; he did notfast, and he played the balalayka. Confess," they said. So I began toconfess. "I've sinned!" I said. Whatever the priest said, I alwaysanswered "I've sinned." He began to ask me about the balalayka. "Whereis the accursed thing," he says. "Show it me and smash it." But I say,"I've not got it." I'd hidden it myself in a net in the outhouse. Iknew they could not find it. So they left me. Yet after all Irecovered. When I went for my BALALAYKA--What was I saying?' hecontinued. 'Listen to me, and keep farther away from the other men oryou'll get killed foolishly. I feel for you, truly: you are adrinker--I love you! And fellows like you like riding up the mounds.There was one who lived here who had come from Russia, he always wouldride up the mounds (he called the mounds so funnily, "hillocks").Whenever he saw a mound, off he'd gallop. Once he galloped off that wayand rode to the top quite pleased, but a Chechen fired at him andkilled him! Ah, how well they shoot from their gun-rests, thoseChechens! Some of them shoot even better than I do. I don't like itwhen a fellow gets killed so foolishly! Sometimes I used to look atyour soldiers and wonder at them. There's foolishness for you! They go,the poor fellows, all in a clump, and even sew red collars to theircoats! How can they help being hit! One gets killed, they drag him awayand another takes his place! What foolishness!' the old man repeated,shaking his head. 'Why not scatter, and go one by one? So you just golike that and they won't notice you. That's what you must do.'

  'Well, thank you! Good-bye, Daddy. God willing we may meet again,' saidOlenin, getting up and moving towards the passage.

  The old man, who was sitting on the floor, did not rise.

  'Is that the way one says "Good-bye"? Fool, fool!' he began. 'Oh dear,what has come to people? We've kept company, kept company for well-nigha year, and now "Good-bye!" and off he goes! Why, I love you, and how Ipity you! You are so forlorn, always alone, always alone. You'resomehow so unsociable. At times I can't sleep for thinking about you. Iam so sorry for you. As the song has it:

  "It is very hard, dear brother, In a foreign land to live."

  So it is with you.'

  'Well, good-bye,' said Olenin again.

  The old man rose and held out his hand. Olenin pressed it and turned togo.

  'Give us your mug, your mug!'

  And the old man took Olenin by the head with both hands and kissed himthree times with wet moustaches and lips, and began to cry.

  'I love you, good-bye!'

  Olenin got into the cart.

  'Well, is that how you're going? You might give me something for aremembrance. Give me a gun! What do you want two for?' said the oldman, sobbing quite sincerely.

  Olenin got out a musket and gave it to him.

  'What a lot you've given the old fellow,' murmured Vanyusha, 'he'llnever have enough! A regular old beggar. They are all such irregularpeople,' he remarked, as he wrapped himself in his overcoat and tookhis seat on the box.

  'Hold your tongue, swine!' exclaimed the old man, laughing. 'What astingy fellow!'

  Maryanka came out of the cowshed, glanced indifferently at the cart,bowed and went towards the hut.

  'LA FILLE!' said Vanyusha, with a wink, and burst out into a sillylaugh.

  'Drive on!' shouted Olenin, angrily.

  'Good-bye, my lad! Good-bye. I won't forget you!' shouted Eroshka.

  Olenin turned round. Daddy Eroshka was talking to Maryanka, evidentlyabout his own affairs, and neither the old man nor the girl looked atOlenin.

  The End