Moscow: A Story of the French Invasion of 1812. Whishaw Frederick

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СКАЧАТЬ was still narrating and still drinking when summoned to put in the horses and start homewards. By this time he was far from sober.

      On the way home he slept peacefully, the clever little horses knowing the road homewards and keeping faultlessly to the track.

      The priest had been left at his house and there remained but four or five miles to drive when the astute little animals suddenly shied with one accord, sending the sledge skidding across the road and bringing it up violently enough against a pine-tree.

      Maximof was rudely awakened from his sleep. His wife uttered a cry of alarm, the boyar swore loudly and thumped Kiril on the back. Young Sasha cried out incoherently and pointed among the trees on the right.

      Kiril's head was sunk upon his breast; he snored in a drunken stupor and took no notice of the Barin's blows, which did not want for energy.

      "See, father, wolves!" cried Sasha excitedly. "I have seen six, there is a seventh—oh—eight—nine!"

      Maximof looked about. "It is true," he said, "they follow us."

      "Husband, is there danger? Whip up the horses, Kiril!"

      "Kiril is drunk and useless, he will not wake," replied the Count; "I will try other means." He took the whip and stood up to belabour the wretched sleeper about the neck, face and shoulders.

      Kiril awoke with a roar of pain and drunken rage; he turned in his seat and struck savagely at his master, swearing horrible oaths.

      "Sit down and hold the reins, you fool," shouted Maximof. "There is a pack of wolves at our heels."

      There was something in the Barin's aspect at this moment that gave the drunken man pause. It was not the thought of the wolves, for he never glanced at them. He ceased to swear and rave and sat down obediently to drive. Five minutes later the fellow was asleep again, the reins dangling. By this time the wolves had grown more daring; several had left the cover of the forest and followed the sledge in the open moonlight, going at a hand-gallop, grey and lank and weird enough to see. There were still two miles to go. A gaunt beast suddenly sprang out at the off horse, causing both animals to shy violently across the road.

      Sasha uttered a cry of terror; the Countess caught her husband's arm; Kiril half awoke and joggled the reins.

      "The wolves will attack us before we reach home. We are lost, husband," said the Countess.

      "Take the reins from Kiril, Sasha," said Maximof, standing up. The boy obeyed, taking the reins from the sleeper's nerveless hands. Then Maximof suddenly caught Kiril by the waist and pulled him backwards. The Count was a large and powerful man, the other was a wisp in his arms. Kiril awoke and struggled. He caught the box-board with his heels, but Maximof kicked them free. Kiril struck at him and cursed, but feeling himself being forced over the side of the sledge he clutched with his hands and held on.

      "Husband, what are you doing?—the wolves—the wolves!" shrieked the Countess. But her husband replied laughing that there were many trees, the fool could climb one if he was not too drunk. "Take the butt of the whip and strike his hands," he added, but his wife only shrieked and clung feebly to his arm.

      Maximof forced one of the hands away and contrived by a united effort of arms, legs and body to expel the wretched Kiril from the sledge. But the other hand clung desperately for a moment as the man was dragged along. Maximof kicked it free.

      There was a shriek, and in the moonlight each wolf seemed to make for one point in the road. Then came a scrimmage and a tumult of snarling and fighting, and now the sledge was out of sight and hearing. It went on its way without further pursuit, save for one or two stragglers who soon found that their comrades had chosen the wiser course, and went back in hopes of being in time for a share of such good things as the gods had provided.

      That night an old hag from the village came to the mansion to inquire for her son Kiril. From the servants she learned no certain thing, but each had suggestions to make as to Kiril's non-arrival. The story of Sasha's nurse was grimly suggestive. When going to bed Sasha had shown off his new Lancer uniform, and, being in a boastful mood, had volunteered the information that he had held the reins while father and Kiril were fighting.

      "Why did they fight?" asked the nurse, but Sasha had suddenly remembered that his mother had bidden him remain silent as to this episode, and he replied that he did not know. "Kiril was drunk," he said, "I know that."

      Presently the hag found her way into the presence of her manor-lord and accused him, shrieking, of the murder of her son.

      "To the wolves you threw him," she cried, "deny it if you can!"

      Maximof laughed; he rang the bell and bade his servants take her to the flog room and see that she had her full twenty strokes.

      "They that throw to the wolves shall to the wolves be thrown!" shrieked the woman as she was removed; but Maximof laughed and bade the servants add five strokes. Presently he rang again in order to ask whether his orders had been obeyed.

      "To the letter, Barin," said the trembling serf; "twenty-five strokes; after her punishment, being unable to walk, she was carried away to the village."

      "Good," said Maximof; "if any serf repeats the words she has spoken this night, he shall receive a double punishment."

      As a matter of fact the hag had been allowed to go unknouted. "It is enough to have lost your son," her pitying fellow serfs had told her; "go quickly and remain lying and groaning to-morrow, in case the steward calls to make sure."

      "Those that throw to the wolves shall themselves feel the teeth of the wolves," murmured the old hag as she took her departure, and the saying was repeated broadcast among the villagers next day, in spite of the manor-lord's threats, for this old hag had some reputation as a znaharka, or wise woman, and her curses and blessings were matters of considerable interest to the peasantry around.

      CHAPTER II

      Maximof employed an agent to do the dirty work of the estate; he rarely came personally in contact with his people and scarcely knew the names of any of them. Kakin, the agent, was no better liked by the peasants; he was a bully, and rarely failed to improve when he could upon the severity of his master's measures towards them. A week after the events above recorded Barin and agent sat together in the estate office over the weekly consultation, when the question of the intended marriage of a serf came up for discussion, a man of the name of Ivan Patkin.

      "He may marry whom he pleases in his own village," said the Count. "Who is the woman?"

      "Timothy Drugof's daughter Olga, in this village," said Kakin; "Ivan of course lives at Drevno." This was a village within the boundaries of Maximof's estate, but seven miles at least from the manor-village of Toxova, in which Olga lived with her father.

      "Tell the fool to marry a woman in Drevno or remain a bachelor," said the Count; "you know very well and so do the peasants that I will have no intermarrying amongst the villages."

      "I will stop the proceedings then. I told the fellow of your objection, but he was impertinent—I will not tell you what he said."

      "You should have given him the knout; do I pay you wages to sit and listen while my peasants use improper language towards their Barin?"

      "I gave him the knout; but he is, as you may know, a sulky devil, and, instead of doing him good, the flogging caused him to abuse and threaten me to my face; I was somewhat afraid of the man; he is not one to meet alone in the forest on a dark night."

      "Afraid СКАЧАТЬ