A Sportsman's Sketches: Works of Ivan Turgenev 1

by Ivan Turgenev

  He had a bad dream: he dreamt he was riding out, hunting, not on Malek - Adel, but on some strange beast of the nature of a unicorn; a white fox, white as snow, ran to meet him.... He tried to crack his whip, tried to set the dogs on her — but instead of his riding - whip, he found he had a wisp of bast in his hand, and the fox ran in front of him, putting her tongue out at him. He jumped off, his unicorn stumbled, he fell... and fell straight into the arms of a police - constable, who was taking him before the Governor - General, and whom he recognised as Yaff....

  Tchertop - hanov waked up. The room was dark; the cocks were just crowing for the second time.... Somewhere in the far, far distance a horse neighed. Tchertop - hanov lifted up his head.... Once more a faint, faint neigh was heard.

  ‘That’s Malek - Adel neighing!’ was his thought.... ‘It’s his neigh. But why so far away? Bless us and save us!... It can’t be...’

  Tchertop - hanov suddenly turned chill all over; he instantly leaped out of bed, fumbled after his boots and his clothes, dressed himself, and, snatching up the stable - door key from under his pillow, he dashed out into the courtyard.

  VII

  The stable was at the very end of the courtyard; one wall faced the open country. Tchertop - hanov could not at once fit the key into the lock — his hands were shaking — and he did not immediately turn the key.... He stood motionless, holding his breath; if only something would stir inside! ‘Malek! Malek!’ he cried, in a low voice: the silence of death! Tchertop - hanov unconsciously jogged the key; the door creaked and opened.... So, it was not locked. He stepped over the threshold, and again called his horse; this time by his full name, Malek - Adel! But no response came from his faithful companion; only a mouse rustled in the straw. Then Tchertop - hanov rushed into one of the three horse - boxes in the stable in which Malek - Adel was put. He went straight to the horse - box, though it was pitch - dark around.... Empty! Tchertop - hanov’s head went round; it seemed as though a bell was booming in his brain. He tried to say something, but only brought out a sort of hiss; and fumbling with his hands above, below, on all sides, breathless, with shaking knees, he made his way from one horse - box to another... to a third, full almost to the top with hay; stumbled against one wall, and then the other; fell down, rolled over on his head, got up, and suddenly ran headlong through the half - open door into the courtyard....

  ‘Stolen! Perfishka! Perfishka! Stolen!’ he yelled at the top of his voice.

  The groom Perfishka flew head - over - heels out of the loft where he slept, with only his shirt on....

  Like drunk men they ran against one another, the master and his solitary servant, in the middle of the courtyard; like madmen they turned round each other. The master could not explain what was the matter; nor could the servant make out what was wanted of him. ‘Woe! woe!’ wailed Tchertop - hanov. ‘Woe! woe!’ the groom repeated after him. ‘A lantern! here! light a lantern! Light! light!’ broke at last from Tchertop - hanov’s fainting lips. Perfishka rushed into the house.

  But to light the lantern, to get fire, was not easy; lucifer matches were regarded as a rarity in those days in Russia; the last embers had long ago gone out in the kitchen; flint and steel were not quickly found, and they did not work well. Gnashing his teeth, Tchertop - hanov snatched them out of the hands of the flustered Perfishka, and began striking a light himself; the sparks fell in abundance, in still greater abundance fell curses, and even groans; but the tinder either did not catch or went out again, in spite of the united efforts of four swollen cheeks and lips to blow it into a flame! At last, in five minutes, not sooner, a bit of tallow candle was alight at the bottom of a battered lantern; and Tchertop - hanov, accompanied by Perfishka, dashed into the stable, lifted the lantern above his head, looked round....

  All empty!

  He bounded out into the courtyard, ran up and down it in all directions — no horse anywhere! The hurdle - fence, enclosing Panteley Eremyitch’s yard, had long been dilapidated, and in many places was bent and lying on the ground.... Beside the stable, it had been completely levelled for a good yard’s width. Perfishka pointed this spot out to Tchertop - hanov.

  ‘Master! look here; this wasn’t like this to - day. And see the ends of the uprights sticking out of the ground; that means someone has pulled them out.’

  Tchertop - hanov ran up with the lantern, moved it about over the ground....

  ‘Hoofs, hoofs, prints of horse - shoes, fresh prints!’ he muttered, speaking hurriedly.’ They took him through here, through here!’

  He instantly leaped over the fence, and with a shout, ‘Malek - Adel! Malek - Adel!’ he ran straight into the open country.

  Perfishka remained standing bewildered at the fence. The ring of light from the lantern was soon lost to his eyes, swallowed up in the dense darkness of a starless, moonless night.

  Fainter and fainter came the sound of the despairing cries of Tchertop - hanov....

  VIII

  It was daylight when he came home again. He hardly looked like a human being. His clothes were covered with mud, his face had a wild and ferocious expression, his eyes looked dull and sullen. In a hoarse whisper he drove Perfishka away, and locked himself in his room. He could hardly stand with fatigue, but he did not lie on his bed, but sat down on a chair by the door and clutched at his head.

  ‘Stolen!... stolen!...’

  But in what way had the thief contrived by night, when the stable was locked, to steal Malek - Adel? Malek - Adel, who would never let a stranger come near him even by day — steal him, too, without noise, without a sound? And how explain that not a yard - dog had barked? It was true there were only two left — two young puppies — and those two probably burrowing in rubbish from cold and hunger — but still!

  ‘And what am I to do now without Malek - Adel?’ Tchertop - hanov brooded. ‘I’ve lost my last pleasure now; it’s time to die. Buy another horse, seeing the money has come? But where find another horse like that?’

  ‘Panteley Eremyitch! Panteley Eremyitch!’ he heard a timid call at the door.

  Tchertop - hanov jumped on to his feet.

  ‘Who is it?’ he shouted in a voice not his own.

  ‘It’s I, your groom, Perfishka.’

  ‘What do you want? Is he found? has he run home?’

  ‘No, Panteley Eremyitch; but that Jew chap who sold him.’...

  ‘Well?’

  ‘He’s come.’

  ‘Ho - ho - ho - ho - ho!’ yelled Tchertop - hanov, and he at once flung open the door. ‘Drag him here! drag him along!’

  On seeing the sudden apparition of his ‘benefactor’s’ dishevelled, wild - looking figure, the Jew, who was standing behind Perfishka’s back, tried to give them the slip; but Tchertop - hanov, in two bounds, was upon him, and like a tiger flew at his throat.

  ‘Ah! he’s come for the money! for the money!’ he cried as hoarsely as though he were being strangled himself instead of strangling the Jew; ‘you stole him by night, and are come by day for the money, eh? Eh? Eh?’

  ‘Mercy on us, your ex - shelency,’ the Jew tried to groan out.

  ‘Tell me, where’s my horse? What have you done with him? Whom have you sold him to? Tell me, tell me, tell me!’

  The Jew by now could not even groan; his face was rapidly turning livid, and even the expression of fear had vanished from it. His hands dropped and hung lifeless, his whole body, furiously shaken by Tchertop - hanov, waved backwards and forwards like a reed.

  ‘I’ll pay you your money, I’ll pay it you in full to the last farthing,’ roared Tchertop - hanov, ‘but I’ll strangle you like any chicken if you don’t tell me at once!’...

  ‘But you have strangled him already, master,’ observed the groom Perfishka humbly.

  Then only Tchertop - hanov came to his senses.

  He let go of the Jew’s neck; the latter fell heavily to the ground. Tchertop - hanov picked him up, sat him on a bench, poured a glass of vodka down his throat, and restored him to consciousness. And
having restored him to consciousness, he began to talk to him.

  It turned out that the Jew had not the slightest idea that Malek - Adel had been stolen. And, indeed, what motive could he have to steal the horse which he had himself procured for his ‘revered Panteley Eremyitch.’

  Then Tchertop - hanov led him into the stable.

  Together they scrutinised the horse - boxes, the manger, and the lock on the door, turned over the hay and the straw, and then went into the courtyard. Tchertop - hanov showed the Jew the hoofprints at the fence, and all at once he slapped his thighs.

  ‘Stay!’ he cried. ‘Where did you buy the horse?’

  ‘In the district of Maloarchangel, at Verhosensky Fair,’ answered the Jew.

  ‘Of whom?’

  ‘A Cossack.’

  Stay! This Cossack; was he a young man or old?’

  ‘Middle - aged — a steady man.’

  ‘And what was he like? What did he look like? A cunning rascal, I expect?’

  ‘Sure to have been a rascal, your ex - shelency.’

  ‘And, I say, what did he say, this rascal? — had he had the horse long?’

  ‘I recollect he said he’d had it a long while.’

  ‘Well, then, no one could have stolen him but he! Consider it yourself, listen, stand here!... What’s your name?’

  The Jew started and turned his little black eyes upon Tchertop - hanov.

  ‘What’s my name?’

  ‘Yes, yes; what are you called?’

  ‘Moshel Leyba.’

  ‘Well, judge then, Moshel Leyba, my friend — you’re a man of sense — whom would Malek - Adel have allowed to touch him except his old master? You see he must have saddled him and bridled him and taken off his cloth — there it is lying on the hay!... and made all his arrangements simply as if he were at home! Why, anyone except his master, Malek - Adel would have trampled under foot! He’d have raised such a din, he’d have roused the whole village? Do you agree with me?’

  ‘I agree, I agree, your ex - shelency.’...

  ‘Well, then, it follows that first of all we must find this Cossack!’

  ‘But how are we to find him, your ex - shelency? I have only seen him one little time in my life, and where is he now, and what’s his name? Alack, alack!’ added the Jew, shaking the long curls over his ears sorrowfully.

  ‘Leyba!’ shouted Tchertop - hanov suddenly; ‘Leyba, look at me! You see I’ve lost my senses; I’m not myself!... I shall lay hands on myself if you don’t come to my aid!’

  ‘But how can I?’...

  ‘Come with me, and let us find the thief.’

  ‘But where shall we go?’

  ‘We’ll go to the fairs, the highways and by - ways, to the horse - stealers, to towns and villages and hamlets — everywhere, everywhere! And don’t trouble about money; I’ve come into a fortune, brother! I’ll spend my last farthing, but I’ll get my darling back! And he shan’t escape us, our enemy, the Cossack! Where he goes we’ll go! If he’s hidden in the earth we’ll follow him! If he’s gone to the devil, we’ll follow him to Satan himself!’

  ‘Oh, why to Satan?’ observed the Jew; ‘we can do without him.’

  ‘Leyba!’ Tchertop - hanov went on; ‘Leyba, though you’re a Jew, and your creed’s an accursed one, you’ve a soul better than many a Christian soul! Have pity on me! I can’t go alone; alone I can never carry the thing through. I’m a hot - headed fellow, but you’ve a brain — a brain worth its weight in gold! Your race are like that; you succeed in everything without being taught! You’re wondering, perhaps, where I could have got the money? Come into my room — I’ll show you all the money. You may take it, you may take the cross off my neck, only give me back Malek - Adel; give him me back again!’

  Tchertop - hanov was shivering as if he were in a fever; the sweat rolled down his face in drops, and, mingling with his tears, was lost in his moustaches. He pressed Leyba’s hands, he besought him, he almost kissed him.... He was in a sort of delirium. The Jew tried to object, to declare that it was utterly impossible for him to get away; that he had business.... It was useless! Tchertop - hanov would not even hear anything. There was no help for it; the poor Jew consented.

  The next day Tchertop - hanov set out from Bezsonovo in a peasant cart, with Leyba. The Jew wore a somewhat troubled aspect; he held on to the rail with one hand, while all his withered figure bounded up and down on the jolting seat; the other hand he held pressed to his bosom, where lay a packet of notes wrapped up in newspaper. Tchertop - hanov sat like a statue, only moving his eyes about him, and drawing in deep breaths; in his sash there was stuck a dagger.

  ‘There, the miscreant who has parted us must look out for himself now!’ he muttered, as they drove out on the high - road.

  His house he left in the charge of Perfishka and an old cook, a deaf old peasant woman, whom he took care of out of compassion.

  ‘I shall come back to you on Malek - Adel,’ he shouted to them at parting, ‘or never come back at all!’

  ‘You might as well be married to me at once!’ jested Perfishka, giving the cook a dig in the ribs with his elbow. ‘No fear! the master’ll never come back to us; and here I shall be bored to death all alone!’

  IX

  A year passed... a whole year: no news had come of Panteley Eremyitch. The cook was dead, Perfishka himself made up his mind to abandon the house and go off to town, where he was constantly being persuaded to come by his cousin, apprenticed to a barber; when suddenly a rumour was set afloat that his master was coming back. The parish deacon got a letter from Panteley Eremyitch himself, in which he informed him of his intention of arriving at Bezsonovo, and asked him to prepare his servant to be ready for his immediate return. These words Perfishka understood to mean that he was to sweep up the place a bit. He did not, however, put much confidence in the news; he was convinced, though, that the deacon had spoken the truth, when a few days later Panteley Eremyitch in person appeared in the courtyard, riding on Malek - Adel.

  Perfishka rushed up to his master, and, holding the stirrup, would have helped him to dismount, but the latter got off alone, and with a triumphant glance about him, cried in a loud voice: ‘I said I would find Malek - Adel, and I have found him in spite of my enemies, and of Fate itself!’ Perfishka went up to kiss his hand, but Tchertop - hanov paid no attention to his servant’s devotion. Leading Malek - Adel after him by the rein, he went with long strides towards the stable. Perfishka looked more intently at his master, and his heart sank. ‘Oh, how thin and old he’s grown in a year; and what a stern, grim face!’ One would have thought Panteley Eremyitch would have been rejoicing, that he had gained his end; and he was rejoicing, certainly... and yet Perfishka’s heart sank: he even felt a sort of dread. Tchertop - hanov put the horse in its old place, gave him a light pat on the back, and said, ‘There! now you’re at home again; and mind what you’re about.’ The same day he hired a freedman out of work as watchman, established himself again in his rooms, and began living as before....

  Not altogether as before, however... but of that later...

  The day after his return, Panteley Eremyitch called Perfishka in to him, and for want of anyone else to talk to, began telling him — keeping up, of course, his sense of his own dignity and his bass voice — how he had succeeded in finding Malek - Adel. Tchertop - hanov sat facing the window while he told his story, and smoked a pipe with a long tube while Perfishka stood in the doorway, his hands behind his back, and, respectfully contemplating the back of his master’s head, heard him relate how, after many fruitless efforts and idle expeditions, Panteley Eremyitch had at last come to the fair at Romyon by himself, without the Jew Leyba, who, through weakness of character, had not persevered, but had deserted him; how, on the fifth day, when he was on the point of leaving, he walked for the last time along the rows of carts, and all at once he saw between three other horses fastened to the railings — he saw Malek - Adel! How he knew him at once, and how Malek - Adel knew him too, and began neighing
, and dragging at his tether, and scraping the earth with his hoof.

  ‘And he was not with the Cossack,’ Tchertop - hanov went on, still not turning his head, and in the same bass voice, ‘but with a gypsy horse - dealer; I, of course, at once took hold of my horse and tried to get him away by force, but the brute of a gypsy started yelling as if he’d been scalded, all over the market, and began swearing he’d bought the horse off another gypsy — and wanted to bring witnesses to prove it.... I spat, and paid him the money: damn the fellow! All I cared for was that I had found my favourite, and had got back my peace of mind. Moreover, in the Karatchevsky district, I took a man for the Cossack — I took the Jew Leyba’s word for it that he was my thief — and smashed his face for him; but the Cossack turned out to be a priest’s son, and got damages out of me — a hundred and twenty roubles. Well, money’s a thing one may get again, but the great thing is, I’ve Malek - Adel back again! I’m happy now — I’m going to enjoy myself in peace. And I’ve one instruction to give you, Perfishka: if ever you, which God forbid, catch sight of the Cossack in this neighbourhood, run the very minute without saying a word, and bring me my gun, and I shall know what to do!’

  This was what Panteley Eremyitch said to Perfishka: this was how his tongue spoke; but at heart he was not so completely at peace as he declared.

  Alas! in his heart of hearts he was not perfectly convinced that the horse he had brought back was really Malek - Adel!

  X

  Troubled times followed for Panteley Eremyitch. Peace was just the last thing he enjoyed. He had some happy days, it is true; the doubt stirring within him would seem to him all nonsense; he would drive away the ridiculous idea, like a persistent fly, and even laugh at himself; but he had bad days too: the importunate thought began again stealthily gnawing and tearing at his heart, like a mouse under the floor, and he existed in secret torture. On the memorable day when he found Malek - Adel, Tchertop - hanov had felt nothing but rapturous bliss... but the next morning, when, in a low - pitched shed of the inn, he began saddling his recovered joy, beside whom he had spent the whole night, he felt for the first time a certain secret pang.... He only shook his head, but the seed was sown. During the homeward journey (it lasted a whole week) doubts seldom arose in him; they grew stronger and more distinct directly he was back at Bezsonovo, directly he was home again in the place where the old authentic Malek - Adel had lived.... On the road home he had ridden at a quiet, swinging pace, looking in all directions, smoking a short pipe, and not reflecting at all, except at times the thought struck him: ‘When the Tchertop - hanovs want a thing, they get it, you bet!’ and he smiled to himself; but on his return home it was a very different state of things. All this, however, he kept to himself; vanity alone would have prevented him from giving utterance to his inner dread. He would have torn anyone to pieces who had dropped the most distant hint that the new Malek - Adel was possibly not the old one; he accepted congratulations on his ‘successful recovery of his horse,’ from the few persons whom he happened to meet; but he did not seek such congratulations; he avoided all contact with people more than ever — a bad sign! He was almost always putting Malek - Adel through examinations, if one may use the expression; he would ride him out to some point at a little distance in the open country, and put him to the proof, or would go stealthily into the stable, lock the door after him, and standing right before the horse’s head, look into his eyes, and ask him in a whisper, ‘Is it you? Is it you? You?’... or else stare at him silently and intently for hours together, and then mutter, brightening up: ‘Yes! it’s he! Of course it’s he!’ or else go out with a puzzled, even confused look on his face. Tchertop - hanov was not so much confused by the physical differences between this Malek - Adel and that one... though there were a few such differences: that one’s tail and mane were a little thinner, and his ears more pointed, and his pasterns shorter, and his eyes brighter — but all that might be only fancy; what confounded Tchertop - hanov most were, so to say, the moral differences. The habits of that one had been different: all his ways were not the same. For instance, that Malek - Adel had looked round and given a faint neigh every time Tchertop - hanov went into the stable; while this one went on munching hay as though nothing had happened, or dozed with his head bent. Both of them stood still when their master leaped out of the saddle; but that one came at once at his voice when he was called, while this one stood stock still. That one galloped as fast, but with higher and longer bounds; this one went with a freer step and at a more jolting trot, and at times ‘wriggled’ with his shoes — that is, knocked the back one against the front one; that one had never done anything so disgraceful — God forbid! This one, it struck Tchertop - hanov, kept twitching his ears in such a stupid way, while with that one it was quite the contrary; he used to lay one ear back, and hold it so, as though on the alert for his master! That one, directly he saw that it was dirty about him, would at once knock on the partition of his box with his hind - leg, but this one did not care if the dung was heaped up to his belly. That one if, for instance, he were set facing the wind, would take deep breaths and shake himself, this one simply snorted; that one was put out by the rain, this one cared nothing for it.... This was a coarser beast — coarser! And there wasn’t the gentleness in it, and hard in the mouth it was — no denying it! That horse was a darling, but this....