GRANDFATHER met me in the yard; he was on his knees, chopping a wedge with a hatchet1. He raised the ax as if he were going to throw it at my head, and then took off his cap, saying mockingly:
“How do you do, your Holiness? Your Highness? Have you finished your term of service? Well, now you can live as you like, yes. U-ugh! you — ”
“We know all about it, we know all about it!” said grandmother, hastily waving him away, and when she went into her room to get the samovar ready she told me:
“Grandfather is fairly ruined now. What money there was he lent at interest to his godson Nikolai, but he never got a receipt for it. I don’t quite know yet how they stand, but he is ruined; the money is lost. And all this because we have not helped the poor or had compassion2 on the unfortunate. God has said to Himself, ‘Why should I do good to the Kashirins?’ and so He has taken everything from us.”
Looking round, she went on:
“I have been trying to soften3 the heart of the Lord toward us a little, so that He may not press too hardly on the old man, and I have begun to give a little in charity, secretly and at night, from what I have earned.
You can come with me today if you like. I have some money — ”
Grandfather came in blinking and asked:
“Are you going to have a snack?”
“It is not yours,” said grandmother. “However, you can sit down with us if you like; there’s enough for you.”
He sat down at the table, murmuring:
“Pour out —”
Everything in the room was in its old place. Only my mother’s corner was sadly empty, and on the wall over grandfather’s bed hung a sheet of paper on which was inscribed4 in large, printed letters:
“Jesus save. Life of the world! May Thy holy name be with me all the days and hours of my life!”
“Who wrote that?”
Grandfather did not reply, and grandmother, waiting a little, said with a smile:
“The price of that paper is — a hundred rubles!”
“That is not your business!” cried grandfather. “I give away everything to others.”
“It is all right to give now, but time was when you did not give,” said grandmother, calmly.
“Hold your tongue!” he shrieked5.
This was all as it should be, just like old times.
In the corner, on a box, in a wicker basket, Kolia woke up and looked out, his blue, washed-out eyes hardly visible under their lids. He was grayer, more faded and fragile-looking, than ever. He did not recognize me, and, turning away in silence, closed his eyes. Sad news awaited me in the street. Viakhir was dead. He had breathed his last in Passion Week. Khabi had gone away to live in town. Yaz’s feet had been taken off, and he would walk no more.
As he was giving me this information, black-eyed Kostrom said angrily:
“Boys soon die!”
“Well, but only Viakhir is dead.”
“It is the same thing. Whoever leaves the streets is as good as dead. No sooner do we make friends, get used to our comrades, than they either are sent into the town to work or they die. There are new people living in your yard at Chesnokov’s; Evsyenki is their name. The boy, Niushka, is nothing out of the ordinary. He has two sisters, one still small, and the other lame6. She goes about on crutches8; she is beautiful!”
After thinking a moment he added:
“Tchurka and I are both in love with her, and quarrel.”
“With her r
“Why with her? Between ourselves. With her — very seldom.”
Of course I knew that big lads and even men fell in love. I was familiar also with coarse ideas on this subject. I felt uncomfortable, sorry for Kostrom, and reluctant to look at his angular figure and angry, black eyes.
I saw the lame girl on the evening of the same day. Coming down the steps into the yard, she let her crutch7 fall, and stood helplessly on the step, holding on to the balustrade with her transparent9, thin, fragile hands. I tried to pick up the crutch, but my bandaged hands were not much use, and I had a lot of trouble and vexation in doing it. Meanwhile she, standing10 above me, and laughing gently, watched me.
“What have you done to your hands?” she said.
“Scalded them.”
“And I— am a cripple. Do you belong to this yard? Were you long in the hospital? I was there a lo-o-ong time.” She added, with a sigh, “A very long time.”
She had a white dress and light blue overshoes, old, but clean; her smoothly11 brushed hair fell across her breast in a thick, short plait. Her eyes were large and serious; in their quiet depths burned a blue light which lit up the pale, sharp-nosed face. She smiled pleasantly, but I did not care about her. Her sickly figure seemed to say, “Please don’t touch me!” How could my friends be in love with her?
“I have been lame a long time,” she told me, willingly and almost boastfully. “A neighbor bewitched me; she had a quarrel with mother, and then bewitched me out of spite. Were you frightened in the hospital?’
“Yes.”
I felt awkward with her, and went indoors.
About midnight grandmother tenderly awoke me.
“Are you coming? If you do something for other people, your hand will soon be well.”
She took my arm and led me in the dark, as if I had been blind. It was a black, damp night; the wind blew continuously, making the river flow more swiftly and blowing the cold sand against my legs. Grandmother cautiously approached the darkened windows of the poor little houses, crossed herself three times, laid a five-copeck piece and three cracknel biscuits on the window-sills, and crossed herself again. Glancing up into the starless sky, she whispered:
“Holy Queen of Heaven, help these people! We are all sinners in thy sight, Mother dear.”
Now, the farther we went from home, the denser12 and more intense the darkness and silence became. The night sky was pitch black, unfathomable, as if the moon and stars had disappeared forever. A dog sprang out from somewhere and growled13 at us. His eyes gleamed in the darkness, and I cravenly pressed close to grandmother.
“It is all right,” she said; “it is only a dog. It is too late for the devil; the cocks have already begun to crow.”
Enticing14 the dog to her, she stroked it and admonished15 it:
“Look here, doggie, you must not frighten my grandson.”
The dog rubbed itself against my legs, and the three of us went on. Twelve times did grandmother place “secret alms” on a window-sill. It began to grow light: gray houses appeared out of the darkness; the belfry of Napolni Church rose up white like a piece of sugar; the brick wall of the cemetery16 seemed to become transparent.
“The old woman is tired,” said grandmother; “it is time we went home. When the women wake up they will find that Our Lady has provided a little for their children. When there is never enough, a very little comes in useful. O Olesha, our people live so poorly and no one troubles about them!
“The rich man about God never thinks; Of the terrible judgment17 he does not dream; The poor man is to him neither friend nor brother; All he cares about is getting gold together. But that gold will be coal in hell!
“That’s how it is. But we ought to live for one another, while God is for us all. I am glad to have you with me again.”
And I, too, was calmly happy, feeling in a confused way that I had taken part in something which I should never forget. Close to me shivered the brown dog, with its bare muzzle18 and kind eyes which seemed to be begging forgiveness.
“Will it live with us?”
“What? It can, if it likes. Here, I will give it a cracknel biscuit. I have two left. Let us sit down on this bench. I am so tired.”
We sat down on a bench by a gate, and the dog lay at our feet, eating the dry cracknel, while grandmother informed me :
“There’s a Jewess living here; she has about ten servants, more or less. I asked her, ‘Do you live by the law of Moses?’ But she answered, I live as if God were with me and mine; how else should I live?’ ”
I leaned against the warm body of grandmother and fell asleep.
Once more my life flowed on swiftly and full of interest, with a broad stream of impressions bringing something new to my soul every day, stirring it to enthusiasm, disturbing it, or causing me pain, but at any rate forcing me to think. Before long I also was using every means in my power to meet the lame girl, and I would sit with her on the bench by the gate, either talking or in silence. It was pleasant to be silent in her company. She was very neat, and had a voice like a singing bird. She used to tell me prettily19 of the way the Cossacks lived on the Don, where she had lived with her uncle, who was employed in some oil-works. Then her father, a locksmith, had gone to live at Nijni. “And I have another uncle who serves the czar himself.”
In the evenings of Sundays and festivals all the inhabitants of the street used to stand “at the gate.” The boys and girls went to the cemetery, the men to the taverns20, and the women and children remained in the street. The women sat at the gate on the sand or on a small bench.
The children used to play at a sort of tennis, at skittles, and at sharmazL The mothers watched the games, encouraging the skilful21 ones and laughing at the bad players. It was deafeningly noisy and gay. The presence and attention of the “grown-ups” stimulated22 us; the merest trifles brought into our games extra animation23 and passionate24 rivalry25. But it seemed that we three, Kostrom, Tchurka, and I, were not so taken up with the game that we had not time, one or the other of us, to run and show off before the lame girl.
“Ludmilla, did you see that I knocked down five of the ninepins in that game of skittles?”
She would smile sweetly, tossing her head.
In old times our little company had always tried to be on the same side in games, but now I saw that Kostrom and Tchurka used to take opposite sides, trying to rival each other in all kinds of trials of skill and strength, often aggravating26 each other to tears and fights. One day they fought so fiercely that the adults had to Interfere27, and they had to pour water over the combatants, as if they were dogs. Ludmilla, sitting on a bench, stamped her sound foot on the ground, and when the fighters rolled toward her, pushed them away with her crutch, crying In a voice of fear:
“Leave off!”
Her face was white, almost livid; her eyes blazed and rolled like a person possessed28 with a devil.
Another time Kostrom, shamefully29 beaten by Tchurka in a game of skittles, hid himself behind a chest of oats In the grocer’s shop, and crouched30 there, weeping silently. It was terrible to see him. His teeth were tightly clenched31, his cheek-bones stood out, his bony face looked as if it had been turned to stone, and from his black, surly eyes flowed large, round tears. When I tried to console him he whispered, choking back his tears:
“You wait! I’ll throw a brick at his head. You’ll see.”
Tchurka had become conceited32; he walked in the middle of the street, as marriageable youths walk, with his cap on one side and his hands in his pocket. He had taught himself to spit through his teeth like a fine bold fellow, and he promised :
“I shall leam to smoke soon. I have already tried twice, but I was sick.”
All this was displeasing33 to me. I saw that I was losing my friends, and it seemed to me that the person to blame was Ludmilla. One evening when I was in the yard going over the collection of bones and rags and all kinds of rubbish, she came to me, swaying from side to side and waving her right hand.
“How do you do?” she said, bowing her head three times. “Has Kostrom been with you? And Tchurka?”
“Tchurka is not friends with us now. It is all your fault. They are both in love with you and they have quarreled.”
She blushed, but answered mockingly:
“What next! How is it my fault?”
“Why do you make them fall in love with you?”
“I did not ask them to,” she said crossly, and as she went away she added: “It is all nonsense. I am older than they are ; I am fourteen. People do not fall in love with big girls.”
“A lot you know!” I cried, wishing to hurt her. “What about the shopkeeper, Xlistov’s sister? She is quite old, and still she has the boys after her.”
Ludmilla turned on me, sticking her crutch deep into the sand of the yard.
“You don’t know anything yourself,” she said quickly, with tears in her voice and her pretty eyes flashing finely. “That shopkeeper is a bad woman, and I— what am I? I am still a little girl; and — but you ought to read that novel, ‘Kamchadalka,” the second part, and then you would have something to talk about.”
She went away sobbing34. I felt sorry for her. In her words was the ring of a truth of which I was ignorant. Why had she embroiled35 my comrades? But they were in love; what else was there to say?
The next day, wishing to smooth over my difference with Ludmilla, I bought some barley36 sugar, her favorite sweet, as I knew well.
“Would you like some?”
She said fiercely:
“Go away! I am not friends with you!” But presently she took the barley sugar, observing: “You might have had it wrapped up in paper. Your hands are so dirty!”
“I have washed them, but it won’t come off.”
She took my hand in her dry, hot hand and looked at it.
“How you have spoiled it!”
“Well, but yours are roughened.”
“That is done by my needle. I do a lot of sewing.” After a few minutes she suggested, looking round: “I say, let’s hide ourselves somewhere and read ‘Kamchadalka.’ Would you like it?”
We were a long time finding a place to hide in, for every place seemed uncomfortable. At length we decided37 that the best place was the wash-house. It was dark there, but we could sit at the window, which over-looked a dirty corner between the shed and the neigh — boring slaughter-house. People hardly ever looked that way. There she used to sit sidewise to the window, with her bad foot on a stool and the sound one resting on the floor, and, hiding her face with the torn book, nervously38 pronounced many unintelligible39 and dull words. But I was stirred. Sitting on the floor, I could see how the grave eyes with the two pale-blue flames moved across the pages of the book. Sometimes they were filled with tears, and the girl’s voice trembled as she quickly uttered the unfamiliar40 words, running them into one another unintelligibly41. However, I grasped some of these words, and tried to make them into verse, turning them about in all sorts of ways, which effectually prevented me from understanding what the book said.
On my knees slumbered42 the dog, which I had named
“Wind,” because he was rough and long, swift in running, and howled like the autumn wind down the chimney.
“Are you listening?” the girl would ask. I nodded my head.
The mixing up of the words excited me more and more, and my desire to arrange them as they would sound in a song, in which each word lives and shines like a star in the sky, became more insistent43. When it grew dark Ludmilla would let her pale hand fall on the book and ask:
“Isn’t it good? You will see.”
After the first evening we often sat in the wash-house. Ludmilla, to my joy, soon gave up reading “Kamchadalka.” I could not answer her questions about what she had read from that endless book — endless, for there was a third book after the second part which we had begun to read, and the girl said there was a fourth. What we liked best was a rainy day, unless it fell on a Saturday, when the bath was heated. The rain drenched44 the yard. No one came out or looked at us in our dark comer. Ludmilla was in great fear that they would discover us.
I also was afraid that we should be discovered. We used to sit for hours at a time, talking about one thing and another. Sometimes I told her some of grandmother’s tales, and Ludmilla told me about the lives of the Kazsakas, on the River Medvyedietz.
“How lovely it was there!” she would sigh. “Here, what is it? Only beggars live here.”
Soon we had no need to go to the wash-house. Ludmilla’s mother found work with a fur-dresser, and left the house the first thing in the morning. Her sister was at school, and her brother worked at a tile factory. On wet days I went to the girl and helped her to cook, and to clean the sitting-room45 and kitchen. She said laughingly:
“We live together — just like a husband and wife. In fact, we live better; a husband does not help his wife.”
If I had money, I bought some cakes, and we had tea, afterward46 cooling the samovar with cold water, lest the scolding mother of Ludmilla should guess that it had been heated. Sometimes grandmother came to see us, and sat down, making lace, sewing, or telling us wonderful stories, and when grandfather went to the town, Ludmilla used to come to us, and we feasted without a care in the world.
Grandmother said:
“Oh, how happily we live! With our own money we can do what we like.”
She encouraged our friendship.
“It is a good thing when a boy and girl are friends. Only there must be no tricks,” and she explained in the simplest words what she meant by “tricks.” She spoke47 beautifully, as one inspired, and made me understand thoroughly48 that it is wrong to pluck the flower before it opens, for then it will have neither fragrance49 nor fruit.
We had no inclination50 for “tricks,” but that did not hinder Ludmilla and me from speaking of that subject, on which one is supposed to be silent. Such subjects of conversation were in a way forced upon us because the relationship of the sexes was so often and tiresomely51 brought to our notice in their coarsest form, and was very offensive to us.
Ludmilla’s father was a handsome man of forty, curly-headed and whiskered, and had an extremely masterful way of moving his eyebrows52. He was strangely silent; I do not remember one word uttered by him. When he caressed53 his children he uttered unintelligible sounds, like a dumb person, and even when he beat his wife he did it in silence.
On the evenings of Sundays and festivals, attired54 in a light-blue shirt, with wide plush trousers and highly polished boots, he would go out to the gate with a harmonica slung55 with straps56 behind his back, and stand there exactly like a soldier doing sentry57 duty. Presently a sort of “promenade” would be — gin past our gate. One after the other girls and women would pass, glancing at Evsyenko furtively58 from under their eyelashes, or quite openly, while he stood sticking out his lower lip, and also looking with discriminating59 glances from his dark eyes. There was something repugnantly dog-like in this silent conversation with the eyes alone, and from the slow, rapt movement of the women as they passed it seemed as if the chosen one, at an imperious flicker60 of the man’s eyelid61, would humbly62 sink to the dirty ground as if she were killed.
“Tipsy brute63! Brazen64 face!” grumbled65 Ludmilla’s mother. She was a tall, thin woman, with a long face and a bad complexion67, and hair which had been cut short after typhus. She was like a worn-out broom.
Ludmilla sat beside her, unsuccessfully trying to turn her attention from the street by asking questions about one thing and another.
“Stop it, you monster!” muttered the mother, blinking restlessly. Her narrow Mongol eyes were strangely bright and immovable, always fixed68 on something and always stationary69.
“Don’t be angry, Mamochka; it doesn’t matter,” Ludmilla would say. “Just look how the mat-maker’s widow is dressed up!”
“I should be able to dress better if it were not for you three. You have eaten me up, devoured70 me,” said the mother, pitilessly through her tears, fixing her eyes on the large, broad figure of the mat-maker’s widow.
She was like a small house. Her chest stuck out like the roof, and her red face, half hidden by the green handkerchief which was tied round it, was like a dormer-window when the sun is reflected on it. Evsy — enko, drawing his harmonica to his chest, began to play. The harmonica played many tunes71; the sounds traveled a long way, and the children came from all the street around, and fell in the sand at the feet of the performer, trembling with ecstasy72.
“You wait; I’ll give you something!” the woman promised her husband.
He looked at her askance, without speaking. And the mat-maker’s widow sat not far off on the Xlistov’s bench, listening intently.
In the field behind the cemetery the sunset was red. In the street, as on a river, floated brightly clothed, great pieces of flesh. The children rushed along like a whirlwind; the warm air was caressing73 and intoxicating74. A pungent75 odor rose from the sand, which had been made hot by the sun during the day, and peculiarly noticeable was a fat, sweet smell from the slaughter-house — the smell of blood. From the yard where the fur-dresser lived came the salt and bitter odor of tanning. The women’s chatter76, the drunken roar of the men, the bell-like voices of the children, the bass77 melody of the harmonica — all mingled78 together in one deep rumble66. The earth, which is ever creating, gave a mighty79 sigh. All was coarse and naked, but it instilled80 a great, deep faith in that gloomy life, so shamelessly animal. At times above the noise certain painful, never-to-be-forgotten words went straight to one’s heart:
“It is not right for you all together to set upon one. You must take turns.” “Who pities us when we do not pity ourselves?” “Did God bring women into the world in order to deride81 them?”
The night drew near, the air became fresher, the sounds became more subdued82. The wooden houses seemed to swell83 and grow taller, clothing themselves with shadows. The children were dragged away from the yard to bed. Some of them were already asleep by the fence or at the feet or on the knees of their mothers. Most of the children grew quieter and more docile84 with the night. Evsyenko disappeared unnoticed; he seemed to have melted away. The mat — maker’s widow was also missing. The bass notes of the harmonica could be heard somewhere in the distance, beyond the cemetery. Ludmilla’s mother sat on a bench doubled up, with her back stuck out like a cat. My grandmother had gone out to take tea with a neighbor, a midwife, a great fat woman with a nose like a duck’s, and a gold medal “for saving lives” on her flat, masculine-looking chest. The whole street feared her, regarding her as a witch, and it was related of her that she had carried out of the flames, when a fire broke out, the three children and sick wife of a certain colonel. There was a friendship between grandmother and her. When they met in the street they used to smile at each other from a long way off, as if they had seen something specially85 pleasant.
Kostrom, Ludmilla, and I sat on the bench at the gate. Tchurka had called upon Ludmilla’s brother to wrestle86 with him. Locked in each other’s arms they trampled87 down the sand and became angry.
“Leave off!” cried Ludmilla, timorously88.
Looking at her sidewise out of his black eyes, Kostrom told a story about the hunter Kalinin, a gray-haired old man with cunning eyes, a man of evil fame, known to all the village. He had not long been dead, but they had not buried him in the earth in the grave-yard, but had placed his coffin89 above ground, away from the other graves. The coffin was black, on tall trestles; on the lid were drawn90 in white paint a cross, a spear, a reed, and two bones. Every night, as soon as it grew dark, the old man rose from his coffin and walked about the cemetery, looking for something, till the first cock crowed.
“Don’t talk about such dreadful things!” begged Ludmilla.
“Nonsense!” cried Tchurka, breaking away from her brother. “What are you telling lies for? I saw them bury the coffin myself, and the one above ground is simply a monument. As to a dead man walking about, the drunken blacksmith set the idea afloat.”
Kostrom, without looking at him, suggested:
“Go and sleep in the cemetery; then you will see.”
They began to quarrel, and Ludmilla, shaking her head sadly, asked:
“Mamochka, do dead people walk about at night?”
“They do,” answered her mother, as if the question had called her back from a distance.
The son of the shopkeeper Valek, a tall, stout91, red-faced youth of twenty, came to us, and, hearing what we were disputing about, said:
“I will give three greven and ten cigarettes to whichever of you three will sleep till daylight on the coffin, and I will pull the ears of the one who is afraid — as long as he likes. Well?”
We were all silent, confused, and Ludmilla’s mother said:
“What nonsense! What do you mean by putting the children up to such nonsense?”
“You hand over a ruble, and I will go,” announced Tchurka, gruffly.
Kostrom at once asked spitefully:
“But for two greven — you would be afraid?” Then he said to Valek: “Give him the ruble. But he won’t go; he is only making believe.”
“Well, take the ruble.”
Tchurka rose, and, without saying a word and without hurrying, went away, keeping close to the fence. Kostrom, putting his fingers in his mouth, whistled piercingly after him.; but Ludmilla said uneasily:
“O Lord, what a braggart92 he is! I never!”
“Where are you going, coward?” jeered93 Valek. “And you call yourself the first fighter in the street!”
It was offensive to listen to his jeers95. We did not like this overfed youth; he was always putting up little boys to do wrong, told them obscene stories of girls and women, and taught them to tease them. The children did what he told them, and suffered dearly for it. For some reason or other he hated my dog, and used to throw stones at it, and one day gave it some bread with a needle in it. But it was still more offensive to see Tchurka going away, shrinking and ashamed.
I said to Valek:
“Give me the ruble, and I will go.”
Mocking me and trying to frighten me, he held out the ruble to Ludmilla’s mother, who would not take it, and said sternly :
“I don’t want it, and I won’t have it!” Then she went out angrily.
Ludmilla also could not make up her mind to take the money, and this made Valek jeer94 the more. I was going away without obtaining the money when grandmother came along, and, being told all about it, took the ruble, saying to me softly:
“Put on your overcoat and take a blanket with you, for it grows cold toward morning.”
Her words raised my hopes that nothing terrible would happen to me.
Valek laid it down on a condition that I should either lie or sit on the coffin until it was light, not leaving it, whatever happened, even if the coffin shook when the old man Kalinin began to climb out of the tomb. If I jumped to the ground I had lost.
“And remember,” said Valek, “that I shall be watching you all night.”
When I set out for the cemetery grandmother made the sign of the cross over me and kissed me.
“If you should see a glimpse of anything, don’t move, but just say, ‘Hail, Mary.’ ”
I went along quickly, my one desire being to begin and finish the whole thing. Valek, Kostrom, and another youth escorted me thither96. As I was getting over the brick wall I got mixed up in the blanket, and fell down, but was up in the same moment, as if the earth had ejected me. There was a chuckle97 from the other side of the wall. My heart contracted; a cold chill ran down my back.
I went stumblingly on to the black coffin, against one side of which the sand had drifted, while on the other side could be seen the short, thick legs. It looked as if some one had tried to lift it up, and had succeeded only in making it totter98. I sat on the edge of the coffin and looked around. The hilly cemetery was simply packed with gray crosses; quivering shadows fell upon the graves.
Here and there, scattered99 among the graves, slender willows100 stood up, uniting adjoining graves with their branches. Through the lace-work of their shadows blades of grass stuck up.
The church rose up in the sky like a snow-drift, and in the motionless clouds shone the small setting moon.
The father of Yaz, “the good-for-nothing peasant,” was lazily ringing his bell in his lodge101. Each time, as he pulled the string, it caught in the iron plate of the roof and squeaked102 pitifully, after which could be heard the metallic103 clang of the little bell. It sounded sharp and sorrowful.
“God give us rest!” I remembered the saying of the watchman. It was very painful and somehow it was suffocating104. I was perspiring105 freely although the night was cool. Should I have time to run into the watchman’s lodge if old Kalinin really did try to creep out of his graved
I was well acquainted with the cemetery. I had played among the graves many times with Yaz and other comrades. Over there by the church my mother was buried.
Every one was not asleep yet, for snatches of laughter and fragments of songs were borne to me from the village. Either on the railway embankment, to which they were carrying sand, or in the village of Katizovka a harmonica gave forth106 a strangled sound. Along the wall, as usual, went the drunken blacksmith Myachov, singing. I recognized him by his song:
“To our mother’s door One small sin we lay. The only one she loves Is our Papasha.”
It was pleasant to listen to the last sighs of life, but at each stroke of the bell it became quieter, and the quietness overflowed107 like a river over a meadow, drowning and hiding everything. One’s soul seemed to float in boundless108 and unfathomable space, to be extinguished like the light of a catch in the darkness, be — coming dissolved without leaving a trace in that ocean of space in which live only the unattainable stars, shining brightly, while everything on earth disappears as being useless and dead. Wrapping myself in the blanket, I sat on the coffin, with my feet tucked under me and my face to the church. Whenever I moved, the coffin squeaked, and the sand under it crunched109.
Something twice struck the ground close to me, and then a piece of brick fell near by. I was frightened, but then I guessed that Valek and his friends were throwing things at me from the other side of the wall, trying to scare me. But I felt all the better for the proximity110 of human creatures.
I began unwillingly111 to think of my mother. Once she had found me trying to smoke a cigarette. She began to beat me, but I said:
“Don’t touch me; I feel bad enough without that. I feel very sick.”
Afterward, when I was put behind the stove as a punishment, she said to grandmother:
“That boy has no feeling; he doesn’t love any one.”
It hurt me to hear that. When my mother punished me I was sorry for her. I felt uncomfortable for her sake, because she seldom punished me deservedly or justly. On the whole, I had received a great deal of ill treatment in my life. Those people on the other side of the fence, for example, must know that I was frightened of being alone in the cemetery, yet they wanted to frighten me more. Why?
I should like to have shouted to them, “Go to the devil!” but that might have been disastrous112. Who knew what the devil would think of it, for no doubt he was somewhere near. There was a lot of mica113 in the sand, and it gleamed faintly in the moonlight, which reminded me how, lying one day on a raft on the Oka, gazing into the water, a bream suddenly swam almost in my face, turned on its side, looking like a human cheek, and, looking at me with its round, bird-like eyes, dived to the bottom, fluttering like a leaf falling from a maple-tree.
My memory worked with increasing effort, recalling different episodes of my life, as if it were striving to protect itself against the imaginations evoked114 by terror.
A hedgehog came rolling along, tapping on the sand with its strong paws. It reminded me of a hob-goblin; it was just as little and as disheveled-looking.
I remembered how grandmother, squatting115 down beside the stove, said, “Kind master of the house, take away the beetles116.”
Far away over the town, which I could not see, it grew lighter117. The cold morning air blew against my cheeks and into my eyes. I wrapped myself in my blanket. Let come what would!
Grandmother awoke me. Standing beside me and pulling off the blanket, she said:
“Get up! Aren’t you chilled? Well, were you frightened?”
“I was frightened, but don’t tell any one; don’t tell the other boys.”
“But why not?” she asked in amazement118. “If you were not afraid, you have nothing to be proud about.”
As he went home she said to me gently:
“You have to experience things for yourself in this world, dear heart. If you can’t teach yourself, no one else can teach you.”
By the evening I was the “hero” of the street, and every one asked me, “Is it possible that you were not afraid?” And when I answered, “I was afraid,” they shook their heads and exclaimed, “Aha I you see!”
The shopkeeper went about saying loudly:
“It may be that they talked nonsense when they said that Kalinin walked. But if he did, do you think he would have frightened that boy? No, he would have driven him out of the cemetery, and no one would know v/here he went.”
Ludmilla looked at me with tender astonishment119. Even grandfather was obviously pleased with me. They all made much of me. Only Tchurka said gruffly:
“It was easy enough for him; his grandmother is a witch!”
收听单词发音 |
1
hatchet
|
|
| n.短柄小斧；v.扼杀 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
2
compassion
|
|
| n.同情，怜悯 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
3
soften
|
|
| v.(使)变柔软；(使)变柔和 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
4
inscribed
|
|
| v.写，刻( inscribe的过去式和过去分词 )；内接 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
5
shrieked
|
|
| v.尖叫( shriek的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
6
lame
|
|
| adj.跛的，(辩解、论据等)无说服力的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
7
crutch
|
|
| n.T字形拐杖；支持，依靠，精神支柱 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
8
crutches
|
|
| n.拐杖, 支柱 v.支撑 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
9
transparent
|
|
| adj.明显的，无疑的；透明的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
10
standing
|
|
| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
11
smoothly
|
|
| adv.平滑地，顺利地，流利地，流畅地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
12
denser
|
|
| adj. 不易看透的, 密集的, 浓厚的, 愚钝的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
13
growled
|
|
| v.（动物）发狺狺声， （雷）作隆隆声( growl的过去式和过去分词 )；低声咆哮着说 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
14
enticing
|
|
| adj.迷人的；诱人的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
15
admonished
|
|
| v.劝告( admonish的过去式和过去分词 )；训诫；（温和地）责备；轻责 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
16
cemetery
|
|
| n.坟墓，墓地，坟场 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
17
judgment
|
|
| n.审判；判断力，识别力，看法，意见 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
18
muzzle
|
|
| n.鼻口部；口套；枪(炮)口；vt.使缄默 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
19
prettily
|
|
| adv.优美地；可爱地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
20
taverns
|
|
| n.小旅馆，客栈，酒馆( tavern的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
21
skilful
|
|
| (=skillful)adj.灵巧的，熟练的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
22
stimulated
|
|
| a.刺激的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
23
animation
|
|
| n.活泼，兴奋，卡通片／动画片的制作 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
24
passionate
|
|
| adj.热情的，热烈的，激昂的，易动情的，易怒的，性情暴躁的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
25
rivalry
|
|
| n.竞争，竞赛，对抗 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
26
aggravating
|
|
| adj.恼人的，讨厌的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
27
interfere
|
|
| v.(in)干涉，干预；(with)妨碍，打扰 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
28
possessed
|
|
| adj.疯狂的；拥有的，占有的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
29
shamefully
|
|
| 可耻地； 丢脸地； 不体面地； 羞耻地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
30
crouched
|
|
| v.屈膝，蹲伏( crouch的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
31
clenched
|
|
| v.紧握，抓紧，咬紧( clench的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
32
conceited
|
|
| adj.自负的，骄傲自满的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
33
displeasing
|
|
| 不愉快的，令人发火的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
34
sobbing
|
|
| <主方>Ⅰ adj.湿透的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
35
embroiled
|
|
| adj.卷入的；纠缠不清的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
36
barley
|
|
| n.大麦，大麦粒 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
37
decided
|
|
| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
38
nervously
|
|
| adv.神情激动地，不安地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
39
unintelligible
|
|
| adj.无法了解的，难解的，莫明其妙的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
40
unfamiliar
|
|
| adj.陌生的，不熟悉的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
41
unintelligibly
|
|
| 难以理解地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
42
slumbered
|
|
| 微睡，睡眠（slumber的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
43
insistent
|
|
| adj.迫切的，坚持的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
44
drenched
|
|
| adj.湿透的；充满的v.使湿透( drench的过去式和过去分词 )；在某人（某物）上大量使用（某液体） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
45
sitting-room
|
|
| n.（BrE）客厅，起居室 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
46
afterward
|
|
| adv.后来；以后 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
47
spoke
|
|
| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
48
thoroughly
|
|
| adv.完全地，彻底地，十足地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
49
fragrance
|
|
| n.芬芳，香味，香气 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
50
inclination
|
|
| n.倾斜；点头；弯腰；斜坡；倾度；倾向；爱好 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
51
tiresomely
|
|
| adj. 令人厌倦的，讨厌的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
52
eyebrows
|
|
| 眉毛( eyebrow的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
53
caressed
|
|
| 爱抚或抚摸…( caress的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
54
attired
|
|
| adj.穿着整齐的v.使穿上衣服，使穿上盛装( attire的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
55
slung
|
|
| 抛( sling的过去式和过去分词 )； 吊挂； 遣送； 押往 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
56
straps
|
|
| n.带子( strap的名词复数 )；挎带；肩带；背带v.用皮带捆扎( strap的第三人称单数 )；用皮带抽打；包扎；给…打绷带 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
57
sentry
|
|
| n.哨兵，警卫 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
58
furtively
|
|
| adv. 偷偷地, 暗中地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
59
discriminating
|
|
| a.有辨别能力的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
60
flicker
|
|
| vi./n.闪烁，摇曳，闪现 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
61
eyelid
|
|
| n.眼睑，眼皮 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
62
humbly
|
|
| adv. 恭顺地，谦卑地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
63
brute
|
|
| n.野兽，兽性 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
64
brazen
|
|
| adj.厚脸皮的，无耻的，坚硬的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
65
grumbled
|
|
| 抱怨( grumble的过去式和过去分词 )； 发牢骚； 咕哝； 发哼声 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
66
rumble
|
|
| n.隆隆声；吵嚷；v.隆隆响；低沉地说 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
67
complexion
|
|
| n.肤色；情况，局面；气质，性格 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
68
fixed
|
|
| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
69
stationary
|
|
| adj.固定的，静止不动的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
70
devoured
|
|
| 吞没( devour的过去式和过去分词 )； 耗尽； 津津有味地看； 狼吞虎咽地吃光 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
71
tunes
|
|
| n.曲调，曲子( tune的名词复数 )v.调音( tune的第三人称单数 )；调整；（给收音机、电视等）调谐；使协调 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
72
ecstasy
|
|
| n.狂喜，心醉神怡，入迷 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
73
caressing
|
|
| 爱抚的，表现爱情的，亲切的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
74
intoxicating
|
|
| a. 醉人的,使人兴奋的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
75
pungent
|
|
| adj.（气味、味道）刺激性的，辛辣的；尖锐的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
76
chatter
|
|
| vi.／n.喋喋不休；短促尖叫；(牙齿)打战 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
77
bass
|
|
| n.男低音(歌手)；低音乐器；低音大提琴 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
78
mingled
|
|
| 混合，混入( mingle的过去式和过去分词 )； 混进，与…交往[联系] | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
79
mighty
|
|
| adj.强有力的；巨大的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
80
instilled
|
|
| v.逐渐使某人获得（某种可取的品质），逐步灌输( instill的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
81
deride
|
|
| v.嘲弄，愚弄 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
82
subdued
|
|
| adj. 屈服的，柔和的，减弱的 动词subdue的过去式和过去分词 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
83
swell
|
|
| vi.膨胀，肿胀；增长，增强 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
84
docile
|
|
| adj.驯服的，易控制的，容易教的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
85
specially
|
|
| adv.特定地；特殊地；明确地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
86
wrestle
|
|
| vi.摔跤，角力；搏斗；全力对付 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
87
trampled
|
|
| 踩( trample的过去式和过去分词 )； 践踏； 无视； 侵犯 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
88
timorously
|
|
| adv.胆怯地，羞怯地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
89
coffin
|
|
| n.棺材，灵柩 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
90
drawn
|
|
| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
92
braggart
|
|
| n.吹牛者；adj.吹牛的，自夸的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
93
jeered
|
|
| v.嘲笑( jeer的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
94
jeer
|
|
| vi.嘲弄，揶揄；vt.奚落；n.嘲笑，讥评 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
95
jeers
|
|
| n.操纵帆桁下部（使其上下的）索具；嘲讽( jeer的名词复数 )v.嘲笑( jeer的第三人称单数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
96
thither
|
|
| adv.向那里；adj.在那边的，对岸的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
97
chuckle
|
|
| vi.／n.轻声笑，咯咯笑 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
98
totter
|
|
| v.蹒跚， 摇摇欲坠；n.蹒跚的步子 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
99
scattered
|
|
| adj.分散的，稀疏的；散步的；疏疏落落的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
100
willows
|
|
| n.柳树( willow的名词复数 )；柳木 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
101
lodge
|
|
| v.临时住宿，寄宿，寄存，容纳；n.传达室，小旅馆 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
102
squeaked
|
|
| v.短促地尖叫( squeak的过去式和过去分词 )；吱吱叫；告密；充当告密者 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
103
metallic
|
|
| adj.金属的；金属制的；含金属的；产金属的；像金属的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
104
suffocating
|
|
| a.使人窒息的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
105
perspiring
|
|
| v.出汗，流汗( perspire的现在分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
106
forth
|
|
| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
107
overflowed
|
|
| 溢出的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
108
boundless
|
|
| adj.无限的；无边无际的；巨大的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
109
crunched
|
|
| v.嘎吱嘎吱地咬嚼( crunch的过去式和过去分词 )；嘎吱作响；（快速大量地）处理信息；数字捣弄 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
110
proximity
|
|
| n.接近，邻近 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
111
unwillingly
|
|
| adv.不情愿地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
112
disastrous
|
|
| adj.灾难性的，造成灾害的；极坏的，很糟的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
113
mica
|
|
| n.云母 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
114
evoked
|
|
| [医]诱发的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
115
squatting
|
|
| v.像动物一样蹲下( squat的现在分词 )；非法擅自占用（土地或房屋）；为获得其所有权；而占用某片公共用地。 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
116
beetles
|
|
| n.甲虫( beetle的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
117
lighter
|
|
| n.打火机，点火器；驳船；v.用驳船运送；light的比较级 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
118
amazement
|
|
| n.惊奇，惊讶 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
119
astonishment
|
|
| n.惊奇，惊异 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
| 欢迎访问英文小说网 |