Part 25 (1/2)

”A very old man Wearing long white moustaches (He seems to be all white); His cap, broad and high-crowned, Is white, with a peak, In the front, of red satin.

His body is lean As a hare's in the winter, His nose like a hawk's beak.

His eyes--well, they differ: The one, sharp and s.h.i.+ning, The other--the left eye-- Is sightless and blank, Like a dull leaden farthing.

Some woolly white poodles With tufts on their ankles Are in the boat too.”

This venerable barin Prince Yutiatin believes that the old regime still exists and his serfs have agreed to humour him in order to keep him alive.

They agree to

”'Keep silent and act still As if all this trouble Had never existed: Give way to him, bow to him Just as in old days.'”

So the Prince has all his whims satisfied and peasants are beaten (voluntarily) at his pleasure. He orders his sons to dance and girls to sing.

”The golden-haired lady Does not want to sing, But the old man will have it.

The lady is singing A song low and tender, It sounds like the breeze On a soft summer evening In velvety gra.s.ses Astray, like spring raindrops That kiss the young leaves, And it soothes the Pomyeschick, The feeble old man: He is falling asleep now ...

And gently they carry him Down to the water, And into the boat.

And he lies there, still sleeping.

Above him stands, holding A big green umbrella, The faithful old servant, His other hand guarding The sleeping Pomyeschick From gnats and mosquitoes.

The oarsmen are silent, The faint-sounding music Can hardly be heard As the boat moving gently Glides on through the water....”

In Part III., having failed to elicit a satisfactory answer to their question from the men, they decide to try the women. They go to the woman Matrna

[Who] ”Is tall, finely moulded, Majestic in bearing, And strikingly handsome.

Of thirty-eight years She appears, and her black hair Is mingled with grey.

Her complexion is swarthy, Her eyes large and dark And severe, with rich lashes.”

They manage to prevail upon her to tell her life story:

”'My girl-hood was happy, For we were a thrifty And diligent household: And I, the young maiden, With father and mother Knew nothing but joy.

My father got up And went out before sunrise, He woke me with kisses And tender caresses: My brother, while dressing, Would sing little verses: ”Get up, little sister, Get up, little sister, In no little beds now Are people delaying, In all little churches The peasants are praying; Get up, now, get up, It is time, little sister.

The shepherd has gone To the field with the sheep, And no little maidens Are lying asleep, They've gone to pick raspberries, Merrily singing....”

I never ran after The youths, and the forward I checked very sharply.

To those who were gentle And shy, I would whisper: ”My cheeks will grow hot, And sharp eyes has my mother: Be wise, now, and leave me Alone” ... and they left me.'”

At last came the man to whom she was destined to give her heart:

”'And Philip was handsome, Was rosy and l.u.s.ty, Was strong and broad-shouldered, With fair curling hair, With a voice low and tender....

Ah, well ... I was won....

”Don't fear, little pigeon, We shall not regret it,”

Said Philip, but still I was timid and doubtful.

Of course I was fairer And sweeter and dearer Than any that lived, And his arms were about me....

Then all of a sudden I made a sharp effort To wrench myself free.

”How now? What's the matter?

You're strong, little pigeon!”

Said Philip, astonished, But still held me tight.

”Ah, Philip, if you had Not held me so firmly You would not have won me: I did it to try you, To measure your strength: You were strong and it pleased me.”

We must have been happy In those fleeting moments When softly we whispered And argued together: I think that we never Were happy again....'”

She marries Philip and joins his family.

”'A quarrelsome household It was--that of Philip's To which I belonged now: And I from my girlhood Stepped straight into h.e.l.l.

My husband departed To work in the city, And leaving, advised me To work and be silent, To yield and be patient: ”Don't splash the red iron With cold water--it hisses.”