On rising in the morning, he prepared his hash of potatoes and bread, and went out of the hut to work—on the land, with cattle, with wood, stone and iron. He was honest, careful, and laborious1. While still a lad of five he had, while driving from the station, helped a stranger in a mechanic's overalls2 to a seat; the man had told him all were equal in the sight of God, that the land belonged to the peasants, that the proprieters had stolen it from them, and that a time would come when he would have to "do things."
Ivan Koloturov did not understand what he would have to do, but when the fierce wave of the Revolution broke over the country and swept into the Steppe, he was the first to rise to "do things." Now he felt disillusioned3. He had wanted to do everything honestly, but he was only able to work with his hands and muscles.
They elected him to the County Committee. He was accustomed to rise before dawn and set to work immediately. Now he was not permitted to do anything before ten o'clock. At ten he went to the Committee where, with the greatest difficulty, he put his name to papers—but this was not work: papers came in and went out independently of him. He did not understand their purport4, he only signed them.
He wanted to do something! In the spring he went home to the plough. He had been elected in the Autumn, President of the Committee of the Poor, and he established himself in Prince Prozorovsky's domain5, putting on his soldier brother's great coat and carrying a revolver in his belt.
He went home in the evening. His wife met him sullenly6, jerking her elbows as she prepared some mash7. The children were sitting on the stove, some little pigs grunted8 in a corner. There was a strong smell of burning wood.
"You won't care to eat with us now after the Barin's meal," nagged9 the old woman. "You are a Barin yourself now. Ha, ha!"
Ivan remained silent, sitting down on a bench beneath the Ikon.
"So you mix with rascals10 now," she persisted, "yes, that is what they are, Ivan Koloturov. Discontented rascals!"
"Peace, fool! You don't understand. Be quiet, I say!"
"You are ashamed of me, so you are hiding."
"We will live there together—soon."
"Not I! I will not go there."
"Idiot!"
"Ah, you have already learnt to snarl," the old woman jibed11. "Ate your mash then! But perhaps you don't relish12 it after your Barin's pork."
She was right, he had already eaten—pork, and she had guessed it.
He had come home to have a business talk about their affairs, but he left without settling anything. The old woman's sharp tongue had stung him in a tender spot. It was true that all the respectable peasants had stood aside, and only those who had nothing to lose had joined the Committee.
Ivan passed through the village. As he walked across the park, he saw a light burning in the stables and went over to discover the reason. He found some lads had assembled there and were playing cards and smoking. He watched them awhile, frowningly.
"What if we do?" the men answered sulkily. "It is for you to defend other people's property?"
"Not other peoples'—ours!" he retorted, then turned away.
"Ivan!" they shouted after him; "have you the wine-cellar key? There are spirits in there—if you don't give it to us, we shall break in…."
The house was dark and silent. The huge, spacious16 apartments seemed strange, terrible. The Prince still occupied the drawing-room. Ivan entered his office—formerly the dining-room—and lighted a lamp. He went down on his knees and began to pick up the clods of earth that lay on the floor; he threw them out of the window, then fetched a brush and swept up. He could not understand why gentlemen's boots did not leave a trail of dirt behind them.
Then he went into the drawing-room and served the final notice on the
Prince while the men were accommodating themselves in the kitchen.
Then he joined them, lying down on a form without undressing. After a
long time he fell asleep.
He awoke the next morning while all were still sleeping, rose and walked round the manor17. The lads were still playing cards in the stable.
"Why aren't you asleep?" one of them asked him.
"I have had all I want," he replied. He called the cow-herd. The man came out, stood still, scratched his head, and swore angrily— indignant at being aroused.
The dawn was fine, clear and chilly19. A light appeared in the drawing- room, and Ivan saw the Prince go out, cross the terrace and depart into the Steppe.
At ten o'clock, the President entered the office, and set about what was, in his opinion, a torturous20, useless business—the making out an inventory21 of the wheat and rye in each peasant's possession. It was useless because he knew, as did everyone in the village, how much each man had; it was torturous because it entailed22 such a great deal of writing.
Prince Prozorovsky had risen at daybreak. The sun glared fiercely over the bare autumn-swept park and into the drawing-room windows. The wedding cry of the ravens23 echoed through the autumnal stillness that hung broodingly over the Steppe.
On such a dazzling golden day as this, the Prince's ancestors had set off with their blood-hounds in by-gone days. In this house a whole generation had lived—now the old family was forced to leave it—for ever!
A red notice—"The Bielokonsky Committee of the Poor"—had been affixed24 to the front door the previous evening, and the intruders had bustled25 all night arranging something in the hall. The drawing-room had not so far been touched; the gilt26 backs of books still glittered from behind glass cases in the study. Oh books! Will not your poison and your delights still abide27?
Prince Prozorovsky went out into the fields; they were barren but for dead rye-stalks that stuck up starkly28 from the earth. Wolves were already on the trail. He wandered all day long, drank the last wine of autumn and listened to the ravens' wedding cries.
When he had beheld29 this bird's carnival30 as a child, he had clapped his hands, crying: "Hurrah31 for my wedding! Hurrah for my wedding!" He had never had a wedding. Now his days were numbered. He had lived for love. He had known many affections, had felt bitter pangs32. He had tasted the poison of the Moscow streets, of books and of women; had been touched by the autumnal sadness of Bielokonsky, where he always stayed in the autumn. Now he knew grief!
He walked aimlessly through the trackless fields and down into hollows; the aspens glowed in a purple hue33 around him; on a hill behind him the old white house stood amid the lilac shrubbery of a decaying park. The crystal clear, vast, blue vista34 was immeasurably distant.
The hair on his temples was already growing thin and gray—there was no stopping, no returning!
He met a peasant, a rough, plain man in a sheep-skin jacket, driving a cart laden35 with sacks. The man took off his cap and stopped his horse, to make way for the … gentleman.
"Good morning, little Father," he wheezed36, then addressed his beast, pulled the reins37, drove on, then stopped again and called out:
"Listen, Barin, I want to tell you…."
The Prince turned round and looked at the man. The peasant was old, his face was covered with hair and wrinkles.
"What will your Excellency do now?"
"That is difficult to say," replied the Prince.
"When will you go?" the old man asked. "Those Committees of the Poor are taking away the corn. There are no matches, no manufacturers, and I am burning splinters for light…. They say no corn is to be sold…. Listen, Barin, I will take some secretly to the station. People are coming from Moscow … and … and … about thirty five of them … thirty five I tell you!… But then, what will there be to buy with the proceeds?… Well, well! It is a great time all the same … a great time, Barin! Have a smoke, your Excellency."
Prozorovsky refused the proffered38 pipe, and rolled himself a small cigar of an inferior brand. Around was the Steppe. No one saw, no one knew of the peasant's compassion39. The prince shook hands with him, turned sharply on his heel and went home.
The cold, clear, glassy water in the park lake was blue and limpid40, for it was still too early for it to freeze all over. The sun was now sinking towards the west in an ocean of ruddy gold and amethyst41.
Prince Prozorovsky entered his study, sat down at the desk and drew out a drawer full of letters. No! he could not take all his life away with him: He laid the drawer on the desk, then went into the drawing- room. A jug42 of milk and some bread stood on an album-table. The Prince lighted the fire, burnt some papers, and stood by the mantelpiece drinking his milk and eating the bread, for he had grown hungry during the day…. The milk was sour, the bread stale.
Already the room was filling with the dim shadows of evening, a purplish mist hung outside; the fire burnt with a bright yellow flame.
Heavy footsteps echoed through the silence of the corridor, and Ivan Koloturov appeared in the doorway43. Koloturov! As young lads they had played together, Ivan had developed into a sober, sensible, thrifty44, and industrious45 peasant. Standing46 in the middle of the room, the President silently handed the Prince his paper—it had taken him a whole hour to type it out.
On the sheet was typed "To the Barin Prozorovsky. The Bielokonsky
Bielokonsky and from the district precincts. President Koloturov."
"Very well," said the Prince quietly; "I will go this evening."
"You will take no horse."
"I will go on foot."
"As you like," Koloturov replied. "You will take nothing with you." He turned round, stood a moment with his back to the Prince, then went out of the room.
At that instant, a clock struck three quarters of the hour. It was the work of Kuvaldin, the eighteenth century master. It had been in the Moscow Kremlin and had afterwards travelled through the Caucasus with the Vadkovsky Princes. How many times had its ticking sounded during the course of those centuries.
Prozorovsky sat down by the window and looked out at the neglected park. He remained there for about an hour, leaning his arms on the marble sill, thinking, remembering. His reflections were interrupted by Koloturov. The peasant came in silently with two of his men and passed through into the office. They endeavoured silently to lift a writing-table. Something cracked.
The Prince rose and put on his big grey overcoat, a felt hat, and went out. He walked through the rustling48 gold-green foliage49 of the park, passed close by some stables and a distillery, descended50 into a dell, came up on its opposite side. Then, feeling tired, he decided51 to walk slowly—walk twenty miles on foot for the first time in his life. After all, how simple the whole thing was … it was only terrible in its simplicity52.
The sun had already sunk beneath the horizon. The last ravens had flown. An autumn hush53 over-hung the Steppe. He walked on briskly through the wide, windy, open space, walking for the first time he knew not whither, nor wherefore. He carried nothing, he possessed54 nothing. The night was silent, dark, autumnal, and frosty.
He walked on briskly for eight miles, heedless of everything around, then he stopped a moment to tie his shoe lace. Suddenly he felt an overwhelming weariness and his legs began to ache; he had covered nearly forty miles during the day.
In front of him lay the village of Makhmytka; he had often ridden there in his youth on secret visits to a soldier's wife; but now he would not go to her; no, not for anything in the world! The village lay pressed to the earth and was ornamented55 with numerous stacks which smelt56 of straw and dung. On its outskirts57 the Prince was met by a pack of baying dogs, who flitted over the ground like dark, ghostly shadows as they leapt round him.
At the first cabin he tapped at the little window, dimly lighted within by some smouldering splinters.
"Let me in for the night, good people," called the Prince.
"Who is it?"
"A traveller."
A bare-footed peasant in red drawers came out holding a lighted splinter over his head and looking round.
"Ah!" he exclaimed, "it is you, Prince! So you were too wise to stay, were you? Well, come in."
An immense quantity of straw was spread over the floor. A cricket was chirruping, and there was a smell of soot60 and dung.
"Lay yourself down, Barin, and God bless you!"
The peasant climbed on to the stove and sighed. His old wife began to mutter something, the man grumbled, then said to the Prince:
"Barin, you can have your sleep, only get up in the morning and leave before daylight, so that none will see you. You know yourself these are troubled times, there is no gainsaying61 it. You are a gentleman, Barin, and gentlemen have got to be done away with. The old woman will wake you…. Sleep now."
Prozorovsky lay down without undressing, put his cape62 under his head— and at once caught a cockroach63 on his neck! Some young pigs grunted in a corner. The hut was swarming64 with vermin, blackened by smoke and filled with stenches. Here, where men, calves65 and pigs herded66 all together, the Prince lay on his straw, tossing about and scratching. He thought of how, some centuries hence, people would be writing of this age with love, compassion, and tenderness. It would be thought of as an epoch67 of the most sublime68 and beautiful manifestation69 of the human spirit.
A little pig came up, sniffed70 all round him, then trotted71 away again. A low, bright star peeped in through the window. How infinite the world seemed!
He did not notice when he fell asleep. The old woman woke him at daybreak and led him through the backyard. The dawn was bright and cold, and the grass was covered with a light frost. He walked along briskly, swinging his stick, the collar of his overcoat turned up. The sky was marvellously deep and blue.
At the station the Prince squeezed himself into a warm place on the train, amongst other passengers carrying little sacks and bags of flour. Thus, pressed against the sides of a truck, his clothes bedaubed with white flour, he journeyed off to—Moscow.
Prince Prozorovsky had left at evening. Immediately after, furniture was pulled about and re-arranged, the veneer72 was chipped off the desk. The clock was about to be transferred to the office, but some one noticed that it had only one hand. None of the men realised that Kuvaldin's old clocks were necessarily one-handed, and moved every five minutes simply because the minutes were not counted singly in those days. Somebody suggested that the clock could be removed from its case.
"Take the clock out of the box," Ivan Koloturov ordered. "Tell the joiners to put some shelves in it, it will do as a cupboard for the office…. Now then, don't stamp, don't stamp!"
That night an old woman came running in. There was a great turmoil73 in the village: a girl had been abused—no one knew by whom, whether by the villagers themselves or the people who had come from Moscow for flour; the old woman began to accuse the Committee men. She stood by the window and reviled74 them at the top of her voice. Ivan Koloturov drove her away with a blow on the neck, and she went off wailing75 bitterly.
It was pitch-dark. The house was quiet. Milkmaids outside were singing boisterously76. Ivan went into the study, sat down on the sofa, felt its softness, found a forgotten electric lamp and played with it, flashing its light on the walls as he passed through. He noticed the clock on the floor of the drawing-room and began to think what he would do with it, then he picked it up and threw it into the water- closet. A band of his men had broken their way into the other end of the house, and some one was thumping77 on the piano; Ivan Koloturov would have liked to have driven them away, to prevent them from doing damage, but he dared not. He suddenly felt sorry for himself and his old wife and he wanted to go home to his stove.
A bell clanged—supper! Ivan quietly stole to the wine-cellar, filled up his jug, and drank, then hurriedly locked the cellar door.
On the way home he fell down in the park; he lay there a long time, trying to lift himself, wanting all the while to say something and to explain—but he fell asleep.
Steppe.
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1
laborious
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| adj.吃力的，努力的，不流畅 | |
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overalls
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| n.（复）工装裤；长罩衣 | |
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disillusioned
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| a.不再抱幻想的，大失所望的，幻想破灭的 | |
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4
purport
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| n.意义，要旨，大要；v.意味著，做为...要旨，要领是... | |
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5
domain
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| n.(活动等)领域，范围；领地，势力范围 | |
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sullenly
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| 不高兴地，绷着脸，忧郁地 | |
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7
mash
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| n.麦芽浆，糊状物，土豆泥；v.把…捣成糊状，挑逗，调情 | |
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8
grunted
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| （猪等）作呼噜声( grunt的过去式和过去分词 )； （指人）发出类似的哼声； 咕哝着说 | |
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9
nagged
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| adj.经常遭责怪的；被压制的；感到厌烦的；被激怒的v.不断地挑剔或批评（某人）( nag的过去式和过去分词 )；不断地烦扰或伤害（某人）；无休止地抱怨；不断指责 | |
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10
rascals
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| 流氓( rascal的名词复数 )； 无赖； （开玩笑说法）淘气的人（尤指小孩）； 恶作剧的人 | |
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11
jibed
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| v.与…一致( jibe的过去式和过去分词 )；（与…）相符；相匹配 | |
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12
relish
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| n.滋味，享受，爱好，调味品；vt.加调味料，享受，品味；vi.有滋味 | |
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13
puff
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| n.一口(气)；一阵(风)；v.喷气，喘气 | |
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14
growled
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| 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 | |
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15
grumbled
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| 抱怨( grumble的过去式和过去分词 )； 发牢骚； 咕哝； 发哼声 | |
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spacious
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| adj.广阔的，宽敞的 | |
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manor
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| n.庄园，领地 | |
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meddle
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| v.干预，干涉，插手 | |
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chilly
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| adj.凉快的，寒冷的 | |
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torturous
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| adj. 痛苦的 | |
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inventory
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| n.详细目录，存货清单 | |
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entailed
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| 使…成为必要( entail的过去式和过去分词 )； 需要； 限定继承； 使必需 | |
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23
ravens
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| n.低质煤；渡鸦( raven的名词复数 ) | |
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24
affixed
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| adj.[医]附着的，附着的v.附加( affix的过去式和过去分词 )；粘贴；加以；盖（印章） | |
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25
bustled
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| 闹哄哄地忙乱，奔忙( bustle的过去式和过去分词 )； 催促 | |
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26
gilt
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| adj.镀金的；n.金边证券 | |
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27
abide
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| vi.遵守；坚持；vt.忍受 | |
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28
starkly
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| adj. 变硬了的,完全的 adv. 完全,实在,简直 | |
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29
beheld
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| v.看，注视( behold的过去式和过去分词 )；瞧；看呀；（叙述中用于引出某人意外的出现）哎哟 | |
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30
carnival
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| n.嘉年华会，狂欢，狂欢节，巡回表演 | |
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hurrah
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| int.好哇，万岁，乌拉 | |
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32
pangs
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| 突然的剧痛( pang的名词复数 )； 悲痛 | |
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hue
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| n.色度；色调；样子 | |
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vista
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| n.远景，深景，展望，回想 | |
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laden
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| adj.装满了的；充满了的；负了重担的；苦恼的 | |
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36
wheezed
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| v.喘息，发出呼哧呼哧的喘息声( wheeze的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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37
reins
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| 感情，激情； 缰( rein的名词复数 )； 控制手段； 掌管； （成人带着幼儿走路以防其走失时用的）保护带 | |
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38
proffered
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| v.提供，贡献，提出( proffer的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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39
compassion
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| n.同情，怜悯 | |
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limpid
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| adj.清澈的，透明的 | |
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41
amethyst
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| n.紫水晶 | |
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42
jug
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| n.(有柄，小口，可盛水等的)大壶，罐，盂 | |
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43
doorway
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| n.门口，(喻)入门；门路，途径 | |
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44
thrifty
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| adj.节俭的；兴旺的；健壮的 | |
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45
industrious
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| adj.勤劳的，刻苦的，奋发的 | |
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46
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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47
Soviet
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| adj.苏联的，苏维埃的；n.苏维埃 | |
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48
rustling
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| n. 瑟瑟声，沙沙声 adj. 发沙沙声的 | |
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49
foliage
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| n.叶子，树叶，簇叶 | |
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50
descended
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| a.为...后裔的，出身于...的 | |
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51
decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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52
simplicity
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| n.简单，简易；朴素；直率，单纯 | |
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53
hush
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| int.嘘，别出声；n.沉默，静寂；v.使安静 | |
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54
possessed
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| adj.疯狂的；拥有的，占有的 | |
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55
ornamented
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| adj.花式字体的v.装饰，点缀，美化( ornament的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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56
smelt
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| v.熔解，熔炼；n.银白鱼，胡瓜鱼 | |
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57
outskirts
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| n.郊外，郊区 | |
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58
tardy
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| adj.缓慢的，迟缓的 | |
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59
grudging
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| adj.勉强的，吝啬的 | |
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60
soot
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| n.煤烟，烟尘；vt.熏以煤烟 | |
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61
gainsaying
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| v.否认，反驳( gainsay的现在分词 ) | |
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cape
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| n.海角，岬；披肩，短披风 | |
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cockroach
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| n.蟑螂 | |
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64
swarming
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| 密集( swarm的现在分词 )； 云集； 成群地移动； 蜜蜂或其他飞行昆虫成群地飞来飞去 | |
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calves
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| n.(calf的复数)笨拙的男子，腓；腿肚子( calf的名词复数 )；牛犊；腓；小腿肚v.生小牛( calve的第三人称单数 )；（冰川）崩解；生（小牛等），产（犊）；使（冰川）崩解 | |
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66
herded
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| 群集，纠结( herd的过去式和过去分词 )； 放牧； （使）向…移动 | |
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epoch
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| n.(新)时代；历元 | |
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sublime
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| adj.崇高的，伟大的；极度的，不顾后果的 | |
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manifestation
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| n.表现形式；表明；现象 | |
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sniffed
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| v.以鼻吸气，嗅，闻( sniff的过去式和过去分词 )；抽鼻子（尤指哭泣、患感冒等时出声地用鼻子吸气）；抱怨，不以为然地说 | |
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trotted
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| 小跑，急走( trot的过去分词 )； 匆匆忙忙地走 | |
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veneer
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| n.(墙上的)饰面，虚饰 | |
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turmoil
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| n.骚乱，混乱，动乱 | |
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reviled
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| v.辱骂，痛斥( revile的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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wailing
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| v.哭叫，哀号( wail的现在分词 )；沱 | |
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boisterously
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| adv.喧闹地，吵闹地 | |
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thumping
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| adj.重大的，巨大的；重击的；尺码大的；极好的adv.极端地；非常地v.重击(thump的现在分词)；狠打；怦怦地跳；全力支持 | |
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dismal
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| adj.阴沉的，凄凉的，令人忧郁的，差劲的 | |
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desolate
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| adj.荒凉的，荒芜的；孤独的，凄凉的；v.使荒芜，使孤寂 | |
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