Awakened10 by their voices the mother walked out from the cabin, yawning and smiling. Rybin was calmer and less gloomy. The surplus of his excitement was drowned in exhaustion11.
“Ignaty,” he said, “let’s have our tea. We do housekeeping here by turns. To-day Ignaty provides us with food and drink.”
“To-day I’d be glad to yield my turn,” remarked Ignaty, gathering12 up pieces of wood and branches for an open-air fire.
“We’re all interested in our guests,” said Yefim, sitting down by Sofya’s side.
“I’ll help you,” said Yakob softly.
He brought out a big loaf of bread baked in hot ashes, and began to cut it and place the pieces on the table.
“Listen!” exclaimed Yefim. “Do you hear that cough?”
Rybin listened, and nodded.
“Yes, he’s coming,” he said to Sofya. “The witness is coming. I would lead him through cities, put him in public squares, for the people to hear him. He always says the same thing. But everybody ought to hear it.”
The shadows grew closer, the twilight13 thickened, and the voices sounded softer. Sofya and the mother watched the actions of the peasants. They all moved slowly and heavily with a strange sort of cautiousness. They, too, constantly followed the women with their eyes, listening attentively14 to their conversation.
A tall, stooping man came out of the woods into the glade, and walked slowly, firmly supporting himself on a cane15. His heavy, raucous16 breathing was audible.
“There is Savely!” exclaimed Yakob.
“Here I am,” said the man hoarsely17. He stopped, and began to cough.
A shabby coat hung over him down to his very heels. From under his round, crumpled19 hat straggled thin, limp tufts of dry, straight, yellowish hair. His light, sparse20 beard grew unevenly21 upon his yellow, bony face; his mouth stood half-open; his eyes were sunk deep beneath his forehead, and glittered feverishly22 in their dark hollows.
When Rybin introduced him to Sofya he said to her:
“I heard you brought books for the people.”
“I did.”
“Thank you in the name of the people. They themselves cannot yet understand the book of truth. They cannot yet thank; so I, who have learned to understand it, render you thanks in their behalf.” He breathed quickly, with short, eager breaths, strangely drawing in the air through his dry lips. His voice broke. The bony fingers of his feeble hands crept along his breast trying to button his coat.
“It’s bad for you to be in the woods so late; it’s damp and close here,” remarked Sofya.
“Nothing is good for me any more,” he answered, out of breath. “Only death!”
It was painful to listen to him. His entire figure inspired a futile23 pity that recognized its own powerlessness, and gave way to a sullen24 feeling of discomfort25.
The wood pile blazed up; everything round about trembled and shook; the scorched26 shadows flung themselves into the woods in fright. The round face of Ignaty with its inflated27 cheeks shone over the fire. The flames died down, and the air began to smell of smoke. Again the trees seemed to draw close and unite with the mist on the glade, listening in strained attention to the hoarse18 words of the sick man.
“But as a witness of the crime, I can still bring good to the people. Look at me! I’m twenty-eight years old; but I’m dying. About ten years ago I could lift five hundred pounds on my shoulders without an effort. With such strength I thought I could go on for seventy years without dropping into the grave, and I’ve lived for only ten years, and can’t go on any more. The masters have robbed me; they’ve torn forty years of my life from me; they’ve stolen forty years from me.”
“There, that’s his song,” said Rybin dully.
The fire blazed up again, but now it was stronger and more vivid. Again the shadows leaped into the woods, and again darted28 back to the fire, quivering about it in a mute, astonished dance. The wood crackled, and the leaves of the trees rustled29 softly. Alarmed by the waves of the heated atmosphere, the merry, vivacious31 tongues of fire, yellow and red, in sportive embrace, soared aloft, sowing sparks. The burning leaves flew, and the stars in the sky smiled to the sparks, luring32 them up to themselves.
“That’s not MY song. Thousands of people sing it. But they sing it to themselves, not realizing what a salutary lesson their unfortunate lives hold for all. How many men, tormented33 to death by work, miserable34 cripples, maimed, die silently from hunger! It is necessary to shout it aloud, brothers, it is necessary to shout it aloud!” He fell into a fit of coughing, bending and all a-shiver.
“Why?” asked Yefim. “My misery35 is my own affair. Just look at my joy.”
“Don’t interrupt,” Rybin admonished36.
“You yourself said a man mustn’t boast of his misfortune,” observed Yefim with a frown.
“That’s a different thing. Savely’s misfortune is a general affair, not merely his own. It’s very different,” said Rybin solemnly. “Here you have a man who has gone down to the depths and been suffocated38. Now he shouts to the world, ‘Look out, don’t go there!’”
Yakob put a pail of cider on the table, dropped a bundle of green branches, and said to the sick man:
“Come, Savely, I’ve brought you some milk.”
Savely shook his head in declination, but Yakob took him under the arm, lifted him, and made him walk to the table.
“Listen,” said Sofya softly to Rybin. She was troubled and reproached him. “Why did you invite him here? He may die any minute.”
“He may,” retorted Rybin. “Let him die among people. That’s easier than to die alone. In the meantime let him speak. He lost his life for trifles. Let him suffer a little longer for the sake of the people. It’s all right!”
“You seem to take particular delight in it,” exclaimed Sofya.
“It’s the masters who take pleasure in Christ as he groans39 on the cross. But what we want is to learn from a man, and make you learn something, too.”
At the table the sick man began to speak again:
“They destroy lives with work. What for? They rob men of their lives. What for, I ask? My master — I lost my life in the textile mill of Nefidov — my master presented one prima donna with a golden wash basin. Every one of her toilet articles was gold. That basin holds my life-blood, my very life. That’s for what my life went! A man killed me with work in order to comfort his mistress with my blood. He bought her a gold wash basin with my blood.”
“Man is created in the image of God,” said Yefim, smiling. “And that’s the use to which they put the image. Fine!”
“Well, then don’t be silent!” exclaimed Rybin, striking his palm on the table.
“Don’t suffer it,” added Yakob softly.
Ignaty laughed. The mother observed that all three spoke41 little, but listened with the insatiable attention of hungry souls, and every time that Rybin spoke they looked into his face with watchful42 eyes. Savely’s talk produced a strange, sharp smile on their faces. No feeling of pity for the sick man was to be detected in their manner.
Bending toward Sofya the mother whispered:
“Is it possible that what he says is true?”
Sofya answered aloud:
“Yes, it’s true. The newspapers tell about such gifts. It happened in Moscow.”
“And the man wasn’t executed for it?” asked Rybin dully. “But he should have been executed, he should have been led out before the people and torn to pieces. His vile43, dirty flesh should have been thrown to the dogs. The people will perform great executions when once they arise. They’ll shed much blood to wash away their wrongs. This blood is theirs; it has been drained from their veins44; they are its masters.”
“It’s cold,” said the sick man. Yakob helped him to rise, and led him to the fire.
The wood pile burned evenly and glaringly, and the faceless shadows quivered around it. Savely sat down on a stump45, and stretched his dry, transparent46 hands toward the fire, coughing. Rybin nodded his head to one side, and said to Sofya in an undertone:
“That’s sharper than books. That ought to be known. When they tear a workingman’s hand in a machine or kill him, you can understand — the workingman himself is at fault. But in a case like this, when they suck a man’s blood out of him and throw him away like a carcass — that can’t be explained in any way. I can comprehend every murder; but torturing for mere37 sport I can’t comprehend. And why do they torture the people? To what purpose do they torture us all? For fun, for mere amusement, so that they can live pleasantly on the earth; so that they can buy everything with the blood of the people, a prima donna, horses, silver knives, golden dishes, expensive toys for their children. YOU work, work, work, work more and more, and I’LL hoard47 money by your labor48 and give my mistress a golden wash basin.”
The mother listened, looked, and once again, before her in the darkness, stretched the bright streak49 of the road that Pavel was going, and all those with whom he walked.
When they had concluded their supper, they sat around the fire, which consumed the wood quickly. Behind them hung the darkness, embracing forest and sky. The sick man with wide-open eyes looked into the fire, coughed incessantly50, and shivered all over. The remnants of his life seemed to be tearing themselves from his bosom51 impatiently, hastening to forsake52 the dry body, drained by sickness.
“Maybe you’d better go into the shanty53, Savely?” Yakob asked, bending over him.
“Why?” he answered with an effort. “I’ll sit here. I haven’t much time left to stay with people, very little time.” He paused, let his eyes rove about the entire group, then with a pale smile, continued: “I feel good when I’m with you. I look at you, and think, ‘Maybe you will avenge54 the wrongs of all who were robbed, of all the people destroyed because of greed.’”
No one replied, and he soon fell into a doze55, his head limply hanging over his chest. Rybin looked at him, and said in a dull voice:
“He comes to us, sits here, and always speaks of the same thing, of this mockery of man. This is his entire soul; he feels nothing else.”
“What more do you want?” said the mother thoughtfully. “If people are killed by the thousands day after day working so that their masters may throw money away for sport, what else do you want?”
“It’s endlessly wearying to listen to him,” said Ignaty in a low voice. “When you hear this sort of thing once, you never forget it, and he keeps harping56 on it all the time.”
“But everything is crowded into this one thing. It’s his entire life, remember,” remarked Rybin sullenly57.
The sick man turned, opened his eyes, and lay down on the ground. Yakob rose noiselessly, walked into the cabin, brought out two short overcoats, and wrapped them about his cousin. Then he sat down beside Sofya.
The merry, ruddy face of the fire smiled irritatingly as it illumined the dark figures about it; and the voices blended mournfully with the soft rustle30 and crackle of the flames.
Sofya began to tell about the universal struggle of the people for the right to life, about the conflicts of the German peasants in the olden times, about the misfortunes of the Irish, about the great exploits of the workingmen of France in their frequent battling for freedom.
In the forest clothed in the velvet58 of night, in the little glade bounded by the dumb trees, before the sportive face of the fire, the events that shook the world rose to life again; one nation of the earth after the other passed in review, drained of its blood, exhausted59 by combats; the names of the great soldiers for freedom and truth were recalled.
The somewhat dull voice of the woman seemed to echo softly from the remoteness of the past. It aroused hope, it carried conviction; and the company listened in silence to its music, to the great story of their brethren in spirit. They looked into her face, lean and pale, and smiled in response to the smile of her gray eyes. Before them the cause of all the people of the world, the endless war for freedom and equality, became more vivid and assumed a greater holiness. They saw their desires and thoughts in the distance, overhung with the dark, bloody60 curtain of the past, amid strangers unknown to them; and inwardly, both in mind and heart, they became united with the world, seeing in it friends even in olden times, friends who had unanimously resolved to obtain right upon the earth, and had consecrated61 their resolve with measureless suffering, and shed rivers of their own blood. With this blood, mankind dedicated62 itself to a new life, bright and cheerful. A feeling arose and grew of the spiritual nearness of each unto each. A new heart was born on the earth, full of hot striving to embrace all and to unite all in itself.
“A day is coming when the workingmen of all countries will raise their heads, and firmly declare, ‘Enough! We want no more of this life.’” Sofya’s low but powerful voice rang with assurance. “And then the fantastic power of those who are mighty63 by their greed will crumble64; the earth will vanish from under their feet, and their support will be gone.”
“That’s how it will be,” said Rybin, bending his head. “Don’t pity yourselves, and you will conquer everything.”
The men listened in silence, motionless, endeavoring in no way to break the even flow of the narrative65, fearing to cut the bright thread that bound them to the world. Only occasionally some one would carefully put a piece of wood in the fire, and when a stream of sparks and smoke rose from the pile he would drive them away from the woman with a wave of his hand.
Once Yakob rose and said:
“Wait a moment, please.” He ran into the shack66 and brought out wraps. With Ignaty’s help he folded them about the shoulders and feet of the women.
And again Sofya spoke, picturing the day of victory, inspiring people with faith in their power, arousing in them a consciousness of their oneness with all who give away their lives to barren toil40 for the amusement of the satiated.
At break of dawn, exhausted, she grew silent, and smiling she looked around at the thoughtful, illumined faces.
“It’s time for us to go,” said the mother.
“Yes, it’s time,” said Sofya wearily.
Some one breathed a noisy sigh.
“I am sorry you’re going,” said Rybin in an unusually mild tone. “You speak well. This great cause will unite people. When you know that millions want the same as you do, your heart becomes better, and in goodness there is great power.”
“You offer goodness, and get the stake in return,” said Yefim with a low laugh, and quickly jumped to his feet. “But they ought to go, Uncle Mikhail, before anybody sees them. We’ll distribute the books among the people; the authorities will begin to wonder where they came from; then some one will remember having seen the pilgrims here.”
“Well, thank you, mother, for your trouble,” said Rybin, interrupting Yefim. “I always think of Pavel when I look at you, and you’ve gone the right way.”
He stood before the mother, softened67, with a broad, good-natured smile on his face. The atmosphere was raw, but he wore only one shirt, his collar was unbuttoned, and his breast was bared low. The mother looked at his large figure, and smiling also, advised:
“You’d better put on something; it’s cold.”
“There’s a fire inside of me.”
The three young men standing68 at the burning pile conversed69 in a low voice. At their feet the sick man lay as if dead, covered with the short fur coats. The sky paled, the shadows dissolved, the leaves shivered softly, awaiting the sun.
“Well, then, we must say good-by,” said Rybin, pressing Sofya’s hand. “How are you to be found in the city?”
“You must look for me,” said the mother.
The young men in a close group walked up to Sofya, and silently pressed her hand with awkward kindness. In each of them was evident grateful and friendly satisfaction, though they attempted to conceal70 the feeling which apparently71 embarrassed them by its novelty. Smiling with eyes dry with the sleepless72 night, they looked in silence into Sofya’s eyes, shifting from one foot to the other.
“Won’t you drink some milk before you go?” asked Yakob.
“Is there any?” queried73 Yefim.
“There’s a little.”
Ignaty, stroking his hair in confusion, announced:
“No, there isn’t; I spilled it.”
All three laughed. They spoke about milk, but the mother and Sofya felt that they were thinking of something else, and without words were wishing them well. This touched Sofya, and produced in her, too, embarrassment74 and modest reserve, which prevented her from saying anything more than a quiet and warm “Thank you, comrades.”
They exchanged glances, as if the word “comrade” had given them a mild shock. The dull cough of the sick man was heard. The embers of the burning woodpile died out.
“Good-by,” the peasants said in subdued75 tones; and the sad word rang in the women’s ears a long time.
They walked without haste, in the twilight of the dawn, along the wood path. The mother striding behind Sofya said:
“All this is good, just as in a dream — so good! People want to know the truth, my dear; yes, they want to know the truth. It’s like being in a church on the morning of a great holiday, when the priest has not yet arrived, and it’s dark and quiet; then it’s raw, and the people are already gathering. Here the candles are lighted before the images, and there the lamps are lighted; and little by little, they drive away the darkness, illumining the House of God.”
“True,” answered Sofya. “Only here the House of God is the whole earth.”
“The whole earth,” the mother repeated, shaking her head thoughtfully. “It’s so good that it’s hard to believe.”
They walked and talked about Rybin, about the sick man, about the young peasants who were so attentively silent, and who so awkwardly but eloquently76 expressed a feeling of grateful friendship by little attentions to the women. They came out into the open field; the sun rose to meet them. As yet invisible, he spread out over the sky a transparent fan of rosy77 rays, and the dewdrops in the grass glittered with the many-colored gems78 of brave spring joy. The birds awoke fresh from their slumber79, vivifying the morning with their merry, impetuous voices. The crows flew about croaking80, and flapping their wings heavily. The black rooks jumped about in the winter wheat, conversing81 in abrupt82 accents. Somewhere the orioles whistled mournfully, a note of alarm in their song. The larks83 sang, soaring up to meet the sun. The distance opened up, the nocturnal shadows lifting from the hills.
“Sometimes a man will speak and speak to you, and you won’t understand him until he succeeds in telling you some simple word; and this one word will suddenly lighten up everything,” the mother said thoughtfully. “There’s that sick man, for instance; I’ve heard and known myself how the workingmen in the factories and everywhere are squeezed; but you get used to it from childhood on, and it doesn’t touch your heart much. But he suddenly tells you such an outrageous84, vile thing! O Lord! Can it be that people give their whole lives away to work in order that the masters may permit themselves pleasure? That’s without justification85.”
The thoughts of the mother were arrested by this fact. Its dull, impudent86 gleam threw light upon a series of similar facts, at one time known to her, but now forgotten.
“It’s evident that they are satiated with everything. I know one country officer who compelled the peasants to salute87 his horse when it was led through the village; and he arrested everyone who failed to salute it. Now, what need had he of that? It’s impossible to understand.” After a pause she sighed: “The poor people are stupid from poverty, and the rich from greed.”
Sofya began to hum a song bold as the morning.
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1
foliage
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| n.叶子，树叶，簇叶 | |
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repose
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| v.(使)休息；n.安息 | |
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intoxicated
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| 喝醉的，极其兴奋的 | |
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spicy
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| adj.加香料的；辛辣的，有风味的 | |
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aslant
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| adv.倾斜地；adj.斜的 | |
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chirping
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| 鸟叫，虫鸣( chirp的现在分词 ) | |
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7
denser
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| adj. 不易看透的, 密集的, 浓厚的, 愚钝的 | |
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glade
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| n.林间空地，一片表面有草的沼泽低地 | |
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tar
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| n.柏油，焦油；vt.涂或浇柏油/焦油于 | |
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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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exhaustion
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| n.耗尽枯竭，疲惫，筋疲力尽，竭尽，详尽无遗的论述 | |
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gathering
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| n.集会，聚会，聚集 | |
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twilight
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| n.暮光，黄昏；暮年，晚期，衰落时期 | |
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attentively
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| adv.聚精会神地；周到地；谛；凝神 | |
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cane
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| n.手杖，细长的茎，藤条；v.以杖击，以藤编制的 | |
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raucous
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| adj.(声音)沙哑的，粗糙的 | |
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hoarsely
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| adv.嘶哑地 | |
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hoarse
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| adj.嘶哑的，沙哑的 | |
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crumpled
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| adj. 弯扭的, 变皱的 动词crumple的过去式和过去分词形式 | |
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sparse
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| adj.稀疏的，稀稀落落的，薄的 | |
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unevenly
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| adv.不均匀的 | |
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feverishly
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| adv. 兴奋地 | |
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futile
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| adj.无效的，无用的，无希望的 | |
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sullen
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| adj.愠怒的，闷闷不乐的，(天气等)阴沉的 | |
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discomfort
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| n.不舒服，不安，难过，困难，不方便 | |
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scorched
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| 烧焦，烤焦( scorch的过去式和过去分词 )； 使（植物）枯萎，把…晒枯； 高速行驶； 枯焦 | |
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inflated
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| adj.（价格）飞涨的；（通货）膨胀的；言过其实的；充了气的v.使充气（于轮胎、气球等）( inflate的过去式和过去分词 )；（使）膨胀；（使）通货膨胀；物价上涨 | |
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darted
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| v.投掷，投射( dart的过去式和过去分词 )；向前冲，飞奔 | |
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rustled
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| v.发出沙沙的声音( rustle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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rustle
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| v.沙沙作响；偷盗(牛、马等)；n.沙沙声声 | |
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vivacious
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| adj.活泼的，快活的 | |
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luring
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| 吸引，引诱（lure的现在分词形式） | |
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tormented
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| 饱受折磨的 | |
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miserable
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| adj.悲惨的，痛苦的；可怜的，糟糕的 | |
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misery
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| n.痛苦，苦恼，苦难；悲惨的境遇，贫苦 | |
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admonished
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| v.劝告( admonish的过去式和过去分词 )；训诫；（温和地）责备；轻责 | |
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mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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suffocated
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| （使某人）窒息而死( suffocate的过去式和过去分词 )； （将某人）闷死； 让人感觉闷热； 憋气 | |
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groans
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| n.呻吟，叹息( groan的名词复数 )；呻吟般的声音v.呻吟( groan的第三人称单数 )；发牢骚；抱怨；受苦 | |
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toil
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| vi.辛劳工作，艰难地行动；n.苦工，难事 | |
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41
spoke
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| 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 | |
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watchful
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| adj.注意的，警惕的 | |
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43
vile
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| adj.卑鄙的，可耻的，邪恶的；坏透的 | |
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44
veins
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| n.纹理；矿脉( vein的名词复数 )；静脉；叶脉；纹理 | |
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45
stump
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| n.残株，烟蒂，讲演台；v.砍断，蹒跚而走 | |
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transparent
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| adj.明显的，无疑的；透明的 | |
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47
hoard
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| n./v.窖藏，贮存，囤积 | |
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48
labor
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| n.劳动，努力，工作，劳工；分娩；vi.劳动，努力，苦干；vt.详细分析；麻烦 | |
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49
streak
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| n.条理，斑纹，倾向，少许，痕迹；v.加条纹，变成条纹，奔驰，快速移动 | |
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50
incessantly
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| ad.不停地 | |
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51
bosom
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| n.胸，胸部；胸怀；内心；adj.亲密的 | |
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52
forsake
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| vt.遗弃，抛弃；舍弃，放弃 | |
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53
shanty
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| n.小屋，棚屋；船工号子 | |
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54
avenge
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| v.为...复仇，为...报仇 | |
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55
doze
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| v.打瞌睡；n.打盹，假寐 | |
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56
harping
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| n.反复述说 | |
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57
sullenly
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| 不高兴地，绷着脸，忧郁地 | |
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58
velvet
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| n.丝绒，天鹅绒；adj.丝绒制的，柔软的 | |
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59
exhausted
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| adj.极其疲惫的，精疲力尽的 | |
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60
bloody
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| adj.非常的的；流血的；残忍的；adv.很；vt.血染 | |
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61
consecrated
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| adj.神圣的，被视为神圣的v.把…奉为神圣，给…祝圣( consecrate的过去式和过去分词 )；奉献 | |
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62
dedicated
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| adj.一心一意的；献身的；热诚的 | |
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63
mighty
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| adj.强有力的；巨大的 | |
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64
crumble
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| vi.碎裂，崩溃；vt.弄碎，摧毁 | |
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narrative
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| n.叙述，故事；adj.叙事的，故事体的 | |
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66
shack
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| adj.简陋的小屋，窝棚 | |
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67
softened
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| （使）变软( soften的过去式和过去分词 )； 缓解打击； 缓和； 安慰 | |
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68
standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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69
conversed
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| v.交谈，谈话( converse的过去式 ) | |
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70
conceal
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| v.隐藏，隐瞒，隐蔽 | |
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71
apparently
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| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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72
sleepless
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| adj.不睡眠的，睡不著的，不休息的 | |
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73
queried
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| v.质疑，对…表示疑问( query的过去式和过去分词 )；询问 | |
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74
embarrassment
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| n.尴尬；使人为难的人(事物)；障碍；窘迫 | |
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75
subdued
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| adj. 屈服的，柔和的，减弱的 动词subdue的过去式和过去分词 | |
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76
eloquently
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| adv. 雄辩地(有口才地, 富于表情地) | |
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rosy
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| adj.美好的，乐观的，玫瑰色的 | |
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78
gems
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| growth； economy； management； and customer satisfaction 增长 | |
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79
slumber
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| n.睡眠，沉睡状态 | |
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80
croaking
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| v.呱呱地叫( croak的现在分词 )；用粗的声音说 | |
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81
conversing
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| v.交谈，谈话( converse的现在分词 ) | |
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82
abrupt
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| adj.突然的，意外的；唐突的，鲁莽的 | |
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83
larks
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| n.百灵科鸟（尤指云雀）( lark的名词复数 )；一大早就起床；鸡鸣即起；（因太费力而不想干时说）算了v.百灵科鸟（尤指云雀）( lark的第三人称单数 )；一大早就起床；鸡鸣即起；（因太费力而不想干时说）算了 | |
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84
outrageous
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| adj.无理的，令人不能容忍的 | |
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85
justification
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| n.正当的理由；辩解的理由 | |
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86
impudent
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| adj.鲁莽的，卑鄙的，厚颜无耻的 | |
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87
salute
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| vi.行礼，致意，问候，放礼炮；vt.向…致意，迎接，赞扬；n.招呼，敬礼，礼炮 | |
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