XIII

My state during that furious race is beyond description. At moments I completely forgot where I was riding and why. I was vaguely aware that something irreparable, something – absurd and terrible had happened – an awareness that was like the deep, groundless anxiety that sometimes besets you in a feverish nightmare. And, oddly enough, the broken, thin voice of the blind hurdy-gurdy player kept on echoing in my mind to the rhythm of the horse’s clatter:

Ho, the Turkish horde swept down

Like a black cloud from hell.

Having reached the narrow path which led straight up to Manuilikha’s hut, I alighted from Taranchik and led him by the bridle. The edges of his saddle-cloth and the parts of his skin covered by the harness were thickly lathered. Because of the intense heat of the day and the swift ride, the blood was rushing through my head as if a huge pump were forcing it relentlessly.

I tied the horse to the fence and walked into the hut. At first I thought Olesya was not there, and I froze inwardly with fear; but a minute later I saw her lying in bed, her face to the wall and her head buried in the pillows. She did not turn her head as the door opened.

Manuilikha, who was sitting on the floor by the bed, struggled to her feet and waved her arms at me.

“Quiet! Go easy, curse you!” she whispered threateningly, and stepped close up to me. Looking straight at me with her faded, cold eyes, she hissed angrily, “Well? See where you’ve got us, my friend?”

“Look here, Grandmother,” I replied sternly, “this is no time for settling accounts and finding fault. How’s Olesya?”

“Hush! Quiet! She’s unconscious, that’s how she is. If only you hadn’t stuck your nose into what was no business of yours, if only you hadn’t told the girl all sorts of foolish things, nothing would have happened. And I, old fool that I am, looked on and winked at it. I knew there was trouble ahead. I’d known it ever since you almost broke into this hut. Well? Are you going to tell me it wasn’t you who talked her into going to church?” she burst out suddenly, her face distorted with hatred. “Wasn’t it you, you damned idler? Don’t you lie now, don’t shift and shuffle like a fox, you shameless cur! Why did you have to get her to church?”

“I didn’t, Grandmother. Upon my word I didn’t. She wanted it herself.”

“Oh, God!” she wrung her hands. “She came back, her face an awful sight, her blouse in rags, her kerchief gone. And when she told me about it all she laughed and cried as if she were mad. She lay down in bed and cried and cried, and then I saw she’d sort of dozed off. I was so glad, old fool that I am, thinking she’d sleep it off and get over it. I saw her arm was hanging down, so I said to myself, ‘I must put the arm right or else it’ll get numb.’ I touched her arm – it was burning hot. She’d got fever, my poor darling. She talked without stopping for about an hour, so fast and so pitifully. She stopped only a moment ago. See what you’ve done. See what you’ve done to her!” she cried, in a new surge of despair.

And suddenly her brown face twisted into a monstrous, horrible weeping grimace: her lips stretched and drooped at the corners, all her facial muscles became taut and trembled, her eyebrows rose high, furrowing her forehead with deep wrinkles, and tears as large as peas rolled from her eyes with extraordinary rapidity. Clasping her head with her hands and putting her elbows on the table, she started rocking back and forth with all her body.

“My own li-i-ttle one!” she howled. “My de-ear little gi-irl! Oh, how mi-ser-able I a-am!”

“Stop your wailing, old woman,” I interrupted her rudely, “you’ll wake her up!”

She fell silent, but went on rocking to and fro with the same horrible grimace on her face, while large tears kept dropping on the table. About ten minutes passed thus. I sat by Manuilikha’s side and listened in anguish to the monotonous, jerky buzzing of a fly beating against the window-pane.

“Granny!” we suddenly heard Olesya call in a feeble, scarcely audible voice. “Granny, who’s here?”

Manuilikha shambled hastily to the bed, and at once resumed her wailing.

“Oh, my dear girl, my o-o-own! Oh, how miserable I am, how wretched!”

“Stop it, Granny, please!” said Olesya, with pitiful entreaty and suffering in her voice. “Who’s in our hut?”

I tiptoed to the bed with an awkward, guilty awareness of my good health and clumsiness – a feeling you always have with a sick person.

“It’s me, Olesya,” I said, lowering my voice. “I’ve just ridden down from the village. I was in town all morning. Are you feeling bad, Olesya?”

Without taking her face away from the pillows, she stretched her bare am backwards, as if groping in the air. I understood, and took her hot hand in both my hands. Two huge blue spots, one above the wrist and the other above the elbow, stood out sharply on her white, delicate skin.

“My dear one,” Olesya began slowly, spacing her words with difficulty. “I want to – look at you so, but I can’t, They’ve spoiled – my face. Remember – you liked it? You did like it, darling, didn’t you? And I was always so glad you did – But now you’ll be disgusted – to see me! Well, so I don’t want you to.”

“Forgive me, Olesya,” I whispered, bending low over her ear. Her burning hand held mine for a long-time in a strong grasp.

“How can you say that? How can you, darling? Aren’t you ashamed to think of it? Is it your fault? I brought it on myself, fool that I am. Why did I have to do it at all? No, my love, don’t blame yourself.”

“Allow me, Olesya – But first promise you’ll do what I ask.”

“I promise, dear – anything you wish.”

“Please allow me to send for the doctor. I beg you! You may do nothing of what he tells you to, if you don’t care to. But say yes for my sake at least, Olesya! “

“Oh, darling! How you trapped me! No, please allow me not to keep my promise. I wouldn’t let a doctor come near me even if I really were ill and dying. And I am not. I was just scared, that’s all, I’ll get over it by tonight. And if I don’t, Granny will give me an infusion of lilies of the valley, or tea with raspberries. Why call a doctor? You are my best doctor. I feel much better now that you’re here. There’s only one thing I’m sorry for: I’d like to have a look at you, just one look, but I’m afraid.”

With tender effort I raised her head from the pillow. Her face was blazing feverishly, her dark eyes shone with unnatural brightness, her parched lips twitched. Long, red scars furrowed her face and neck. She had dark bruises on her forehead and under her eyes.

“Don’t look at me. Please don’t. I’m ugly now,” she whispered imploringly, trying to shut my eyes with her hand.

My heart brimmed over with pity. I pressed my lips to her hand, which lay motionless on the blanket, and covered it with long, gentle kisses. I had kissed her hands before, but she had always snatched them away bashfully. But now she did not resist ray caress, and stroked my hair with her other hand.

“Do you know everything?” she asked me in a whisper.

I nodded. I had not made out all that Mishchenko had told me, but I did not want Olesya to upset herself recalling that morning’s incident. Yet at the thought of the outrage done to her I was gripped with mad fury.

“Oh, why wasn’t I there at the time!” I cried, straightening up and clenching my fists. “I’d – I’d – ”

“Please don’t. It’s al! right, really. Don’t be angry, dear,” Olesya stopped me meekly.

I could no longer hold back the tears that had been choking me and burning my eyes. Putting my face to Olesya’s shoulder, I broke into silent and bitter sobs, shaking all over.

“You’re crying?” Her voice rang with surprise, tenderness, and compassion. “My darling! Please stop – don’t torture yourself, dear. I feel so happy with you. Let’s not cry while we’re together. Let’s be gay these last days, and then it won’t be so hard for us to part.”

I raised my head in surprise. An uncertain presentiment slowly took hold of my heart.

“The last days, Olesya? Why the last? Why should we part?”

She closed her eyes, and did not speak for a few seconds.

“We’ve got to part, Vanya,” she said with determination. “We’ll leave as soon as I feel a bit better. We can’t stay here any more.”

“Are you afraid of something?”

“No, dear, I’m not afraid of anything, if it comes to that. Only why drive people to crime? Perhaps you don’t know. Over there in Perebrod I threatened them – I was so angry and ashamed. Now they’re going to blame us for anything that happens. Whether it’s cattle dying or a house catching fire, we shall be held guilty. Am I right, Granny?” she asked, raising her voice.

“What were you saying, my girl? I didn’t hear,” mumbled Manuilikha, coming nearer and cupping her hand round her ear.

“I was saying that now they’ll blame us for any misfortune that may happen in Perebrod.”

“So they will, Olesya, they’ll blame poor us for everything. They won’t let us live in peace, they’ll do us in, they will, the damned fools. And that time they drove me out of the village – wasn’t it the same thing? I threatened in anger a silly cow of a woman, and then her baby died. God knows I had nothing to do with it, but they nearly killed me, curse them. They threw stones at me as I ran away, and I only tried to shield you – you were only a child. ‘Let ‘em hit me,’ I said to myself, ‘but why should harm come to an innocent child?’ They’re barbarians, a bunch of heathens fit for the gallows, that’s what they are!”

“But where can you go? You have no kith or kin anywhere. Besides, you need money to settle in a new place.”

“We’ll manage somehow,” said Olesya carelessly. “Granny’ll dig up some money, she’s laid something by.”

“Do you call that money?” Manuilikha replied testily, moving away from the bed. “It’s just a few measly kopeks soaked in tears.”

“What about me, Olesya? You won’t even think of me!” I cried, with bitter, unkind reproach.

She sat up and, unembarrassed by Manuilikha’s presence, took my head into her hands and kissed me several times on the forehead and cheeks.

“I’m thinking of you more than of anybody else, my love. Only, you see, we aren’t destined to be together. Remember I laid out the cards for you? Everything’s turned out just as they told me then. That means fate doesn’t want you and me to be happy together. Do you think I’d be afraid of anything if it weren’t for that?”

“Talking about fate again!” I cried impatiently. “I don’t want to believe in it, and I never will!”

“Oh, no, no! Don’t say that,” she whispered in fright. “It’s for you I’m afraid, dear, not for myself. You’d better not start talking about it at all.”

I tried in vain to dissuade her, painting her a picture of unruffled happiness that neither fate nor coarse, cruel people would be able to disturb. Olesya merely kissed my hands, shaking her head.

“No, no – I know, I can see it,” she insisted. “It would be nothing but sorrow, nothing at all.”

Disconcerted and confused by her superstitious obstinacy, I finally asked her, “Will you at least let me know when you’re going?”

She reflected. Then a faint smile touched her lips.

“I’ll tell you a little story. One day a wolf was running through the wood and he saw a hare. ‘I’ll eat you up, hare!’ he says. ‘Have pity on me, wolf,’ the hare begged, ‘I want to live, my little ones are waiting for me at home.’ The wolf wouldn’t listen to him. Then the hare said, ‘Well, at least let me live three days longer, and then you may eat me up. It’ll be easier for me to die that way.’ The wolf gave him the three days – he didn’t eat him up, just kept an eye on him. One day passed, then another, and at last the third day came. ‘Get ready now,’ says the wolf, ‘I’m going to eat you.’ And the hare began to cry bitterly. ‘Why did you ever give me those three days, wolf! You should have eaten me up as soon as you saw me. Those three days were worse than death to me!’ That hare spoke the truth, dear. Don’t you think so?”

I did not speak, overcome by a gloomy anticipation of solitude to come. Suddenly Olesya sat up in bed; she spoke very earnest.

“Tell me, Vanya,” she said with emphasis, “were you happy while we were together?”

“Olesya! How can you ask?”

“Wait. Were you sorry you had met me? Did you think of any other woman while you were with me?”

“Not for a second! Not only in your presence but even when I was alone, I thought of nobody but you.”

“Were you jealous? Were you ever displeased with me? Were you bored in my company?”

“Never, Olesya! Never!”

She put her hands on my shoulders and gazed into my eyes with ineffable love.

“Well, then, my dear one, you’ll never think of me unkindly or angrily,” she said, as firmly as if she were reading my future in my eyes. “You’ll feel unhappy at first after we part, oh, so very unhappy! You’ll cry, you won’t have any peace. Then it’ll pass and be gone. And afterwards you’ll think of me without sorrow, but with a light and joyful heart.”

She put her head back on the pillow.

“Now go, dear,” she whispered feebly. “Go home, darling. I’m a little tired. Wait – give me a kiss. Don’t be afraid of Granny – she won’t mind. You won’t mind, will you, Granny?”

“All right, all right, say goodbye properly,” Manuilikha answered grudgingly. “What’s the use of hiding from me? I’ve known it for a long time.”

“Kiss me here, and here, and here,” said Olesya, putting her finger to her eyes, cheeks, and mouth.

“Olesya! You’re saying goodbye to me as if we weren’t going to meet any more!” I exclaimed, frightened.

“I don’t know, darling. I don’t know anything. Well, now go in peace. No, wait one more second. Bend your ear to me. Do you know what I’m sorry about?” she whispered, her lips touching my cheek. “It’s that I have no baby of yours. Oh, how happy I’d have been!”

I walked out, accompanied by Manuilikha. A black cloud with a sharply outlined curly rim covered half the sky, but the sun was still shining as it dipped westwards, and there was something sinister about that blend of light and oncoming darkness. The old woman looked up, shading her eyes with her hand, and shook her head significantly.

“There’ll be a rainstorm over Perebrod today,” she said with conviction. “It may even hail, which God forbid.”