‘Come to supper, Olyessia,’ she called to her granddaughter, and after a moment’s hesitation2 added, turning to me: ‘Perhaps you will eat with us too, sir? Our food is very plain; we have no soup, only plain groats....’
I cannot say there was any particular insistence3 in her invitation, and I was already minded to refuse had not Olyessia in her turn invited me with such simplicity4 and a smile so kind, that in spite of myself I agreed. She herself poured me out a plateful of groats, a porridge of buckwheat and fat, onion, potato and chicken, an amazingly tasty and nourishing dish. Neither grandmother nor granddaughter crossed themselves as they sat down to table. During supper I continually watched both women, because up till now I have retained a deep conviction that a person is nowhere revealed so clearly as when he eats. The old woman swallowed the porridge with hasty greed, chewing aloud and pushing large pieces of bread into her mouth, so that big lumps rose and moved beneath her flabby cheeks. In Olyessia’s manner of eating even there was a native grace.
170 An hour later, after supper, I took my leave of my hostesses of the chicken-legged hut.
‘I will walk with you a little way, if you like,’ Olyessia offered.
‘What’s this walking out you’re after?’ the old woman mumbled5 angrily. ‘You can’t stay in your place, you gad-fly....’
But Olyessia had already put a red cashmere shawl on. Suddenly she ran up to her grandmother, embraced her and gave her a loud kiss.
‘Dear little precious granny.... It’s only a moment. I’ll be back in a second.’
‘Very well, then, madcap.’ The old woman feebly wrenched6 herself away. ‘Don’t misunderstand her, sir; she’s very stupid.’
Passing a narrow path we came out into the forest road, black with mud, all churned with hoof7 marks and rutted with wheel tracks, full of water, in which the fire of the evening star was reflected. We walked at the side of the road, covered everywhere with the brown leaves of last year, not yet dry after the snow. Here and there through the dead yellow big wakening blue-bells—the earliest flowers in Polyessie—lifted their lilac heads.
‘Listen, Olyessia,’ I began; ‘I very much want to ask you something, but I am afraid you will be cross.... Tell me, is it true what they say about your grandmother?... How shall I express it?’
‘She’s a witch?’ Olyessia quietly helped me out.
‘No.... Not a witch,’ I caught her up.171 ‘Well, yes, a witch if you like.... Certainly, people say such things. Why shouldn’t one know certain herbs, remedies, and charms?... But if you find it unpleasant, you need not answer.’
‘But why not?’ she answered simply. ‘Where’s the unpleasantness? Yes, it’s true, she’s a witch. But now she’s grown old and can no longer do what she did before.’
‘And what did she do before?’ I was curious.
‘All kinds of things. She could cure illness, heal toothache, put a spell on a mine, pray over any one who was bitten by a mad dog or a snake, she could find out treasure trove8.... It is impossible to tell one everything.’
‘You know, Olyessia, you must forgive me, but I don’t believe it all. Be frank with me. I shan’t tell anybody; but surely this is all a pretence9 in order to mystify people?’
She shrugged10 her shoulders indifferently.
‘Think what you like. Of course, it’s easy to mystify a woman from the village, but I wouldn’t deceive you.’
‘You really believe in witchcraft11, then?’
‘How could I disbelieve? Charms are in our destiny. I can do a great deal myself.’
‘Olyessia, darling, ... if you only knew how interested I was.... Won’t you really show me anything?’
‘I’ll show you, if you like.’ Olyessia readily consented. ‘Would you like me to do it now?’
‘Yes, at once, if possible.’
‘You won’t be afraid?’
172 ‘What next? I might be afraid at night perhaps, but it is still daylight.’
‘Very well. Give me your hand.’
I obeyed. Olyessia quickly turned up the sleeve of my overcoat and unfastened the button of my cuff12. Then she took a small Finnish knife about three inches long out of her pocket, and removed it from its leather case.
‘What are you going to do?’ I asked, for a mean fear had awakened13 in me.
‘You will see immediately.... But you said you wouldn’t be afraid.’
Suddenly her hand made a slight movement, hardly perceptible. I felt the prick14 of the sharp blade in the soft part of my arm a little higher than the pulse. Instantly blood showed along the whole width of the cut, flowed over my hand, and began to drop quickly on to the earth. I could hardly restrain a cry, and I believe I grew pale.
‘Don’t be afraid. You won’t die,’ Olyessia smiled.
She seized my arm above the cut, bent15 her face down upon it, and began to whisper something quickly, covering my skin with her steady breathing. When she stood up again unclasping her fingers, on the wounded place only a red graze remained.
‘Well, have you had enough?’ she asked with a sly smile, putting her little knife away. ‘Would you like some more?’
‘Certainly, I would. Only if possible not quite so terrible and without bloodshed, please.’
173 ‘What shall I show you?’ she mused16. ‘Well, this will do. Walk along the road in front of me. But don’t look back.’
‘This won’t be terrible?’ I asked, trying to conceal17 my timid apprehensions18 of an unpleasant surprise with a careless smile.
‘No, no.... Quite trifling19.... Go on.’
I went ahead, very much intrigued20 by the experiment, feeling Olyessia’s steady glance behind my back. But after about a dozen steps I suddenly stumbled on a perfectly21 even piece of ground and fell flat.
‘Go on, go on!’ cried Olyessia. ‘Don’t look back! It’s nothing at all. It will be all right before your wedding day.... Keep a better grip on the ground next time, when you’re going to fall.’
I went on. Another ten steps, and a second time I fell my full length.
Olyessia began to laugh aloud and to clap her hands.
‘Well, are you satisfied now?’ she cried, her white teeth gleaming. ‘Do you believe it now? It’s nothing, nothing.... You flew down instead of up.’
‘How did you manage that?’ I asked in surprise, shaking the little clinging twigs22 and blades of grass from my clothes. ‘Is it a secret?’
‘Not at all. I’ll tell you with pleasure. Only I’m afraid that perhaps you won’t understand.... I shan’t be able to explain....’
Indeed, I did not understand her altogether.174 But, as far as I can make out, this odd trick consists in her following my footsteps, step by step, in time with me. She looks at me steadily23, trying to imitate my every movement down to the least; as it were, she identifies herself with me. After a few steps she begins to imagine a rope drawn24 across the road a certain distance in front of me—a yard from the ground. The moment my foot is touching25 this imaginary rope, Olyessia suddenly pretends to fall, and then, as she says, the strongest man must infallibly fall.... I remembered Olyessia’s confused explanation long afterwards when I read Charcot’s report on the experiments which he made on two women patients in the Salpêtrière, who were professional witches suffering from hysteria. I was greatly surprised to discover that French witches who came from the common people employed exactly the same science in the same cases as the beautiful witch of Polyessie.
‘Oh, I can do a great many things besides,’ Olyessia boldly declared. ‘For instance, I can put a fear into you....’
‘What does that mean?’
‘I’ll act so that you feel a great dread26. Suppose you are sitting in your room in the evening. Suddenly for no reason at all such a fear will take hold of you that you will begin to tremble and won’t dare to turn round. But for this I must know where you live and see your room beforehand.’
‘Well, that’s quite a simple affair.’ I was sceptical. ‘You only have to come close to the175 window, tap on it, call out something or other....’
‘Oh no!... I shall be in the forest at the time. I won’t go out of the hut.... But I will sit down and think all the while: I’ll think that I am walking along the road, entering your house, opening the door, coming into your room.... You’re sitting somewhere; at the table, say.... I walk up to you from behind quietly and stealthily.... You don’t hear me.... I seize your shoulder with my hands and begin to squeeze ... stronger, stronger, stronger.... I stare at you, just like this. Look!...’
Her thin eyebrows27 suddenly closed together. Her eyes were fixed28 upon me in a stare, fascinating, threatening. Her pupils dilated29 and became blue. Instantly I remembered a Medusa’s head, the work of a painter I have forgotten, in the Trietyakov Gallery in Moscow. Beneath this strange look I was seized by a cold terror of the supernatural.
‘Well, that’ll do, Olyessia.... That’s enough,’ I said with a forced laugh. ‘I much prefer you when you smile. Your face is so kind and childlike.’
We went on. I suddenly recollected30 the expressiveness31 of Olyessia’s conversation—elegance even for a simple girl—and I said:
‘Do you know what surprises me in you, Olyessia? You’ve grown up in the forest without seeing a soul.... Of course, you can’t read very much....’
‘I can’t read at all.’
176 ‘Well, that makes it all the more.... Yet you speak as well as a real lady. Tell me, where did you learn it? You understand what I mean?’
‘Yes, I understand. It’s from granny. You mustn’t judge her by her appearance. She is so clever! Some day she may speak when you are there, when she has become used to you. She knows everything, everything on earth that you can ask her. It’s true she’s old now.’
‘Then she has seen a great deal in her lifetime. Where does she come from? Where did she live before?’
It seemed that these questions did not please Olyessia. She hesitated to answer, evasive and reluctant.
‘I don’t know.... She doesn’t like to talk of that herself. If ever she says anything about it, she asks you to forget it, to put it quite out of mind.... But it’s time for me....’ Olyessia hastened, ‘Granny will be cross. Good-bye.... Forgive me, but I don’t know your name.’
I gave her my name.
‘Ivan Timofeyevich? Well, that’s all right. Good-bye, Ivan Timofeyevich! Don’t disdain32 our hut. Come sometimes.’
I held out my hand at parting, and her small strong hand responded with a vigorous friendly grip.
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1
embroidered
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| adj．绣花的 | |
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hesitation
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| n.犹豫，踌躇 | |
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insistence
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| n.坚持；强调；坚决主张 | |
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simplicity
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| n.简单，简易；朴素；直率，单纯 | |
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mumbled
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| 含糊地说某事，叽咕，咕哝( mumble的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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6
wrenched
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| v.（猛力地）扭( wrench的过去式和过去分词 )；扭伤；使感到痛苦；使悲痛 | |
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7
hoof
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| n.(马，牛等的)蹄 | |
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8
trove
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| n.被发现的东西，收藏的东西 | |
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9
pretence
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| n.假装，作假；借口，口实；虚伪；虚饰 | |
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10
shrugged
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| vt.耸肩（shrug的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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11
witchcraft
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| n.魔法，巫术 | |
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12
cuff
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| n.袖口；手铐；护腕；vt.用手铐铐；上袖口 | |
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13
awakened
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| v.（使）醒( awaken的过去式和过去分词 )；（使）觉醒；弄醒；（使）意识到 | |
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14
prick
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| v.刺伤，刺痛，刺孔；n.刺伤，刺痛 | |
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15
bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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16
mused
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| v.沉思，冥想( muse的过去式和过去分词 )；沉思自语说（某事） | |
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17
conceal
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| v.隐藏，隐瞒，隐蔽 | |
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18
apprehensions
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| 疑惧 | |
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19
trifling
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| adj.微不足道的；没什么价值的 | |
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20
intrigued
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| adj.好奇的，被迷住了的v.搞阴谋诡计(intrigue的过去式)；激起…的兴趣或好奇心；“intrigue”的过去式和过去分词 | |
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21
perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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22
twigs
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| 细枝，嫩枝( twig的名词复数 ) | |
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23
steadily
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| adv.稳定地；不变地；持续地 | |
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24
drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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25
touching
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| adj.动人的，使人感伤的 | |
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26
dread
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| vt.担忧，忧虑；惧怕，不敢；n.担忧，畏惧 | |
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27
eyebrows
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| 眉毛( eyebrow的名词复数 ) | |
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28
fixed
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| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
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29
dilated
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| adj.加宽的，扩大的v.（使某物）扩大，膨胀，张大( dilate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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30
recollected
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| adj.冷静的；镇定的；被回忆起的；沉思默想的v.记起，想起( recollect的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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31
expressiveness
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| n.富有表现力 | |
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32
disdain
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| n.鄙视，轻视；v.轻视，鄙视，不屑 | |
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