Hadji Murad / Хаджи-Мурат. Книга для чтения на английском языке. Лев Толстой

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СКАЧАТЬ of the aoul might at any moment become aware of Hadji Murad’s presence in his house and might demand his surrender. But this not only did not frighten Sado, it even gave him pleasure with himself because he was doing his duty.

      “Whilst thou are in my house and my head is on my shoulders no one shall harm thee,” he repeated to Hadji Murad.

      Hadji Murad looked into his glittering eyes and understanding that this was true, said with some solemnity – “Mayst thou receive joy and life!”

      Sado silently laid his hand on his heart in token of thanks for these kind words.

      Having closed the shutters of the saklya and laid some sticks in the fireplace, Sado, in an exceptionally bright and animated mood, left the room and went into that part of his saklya where his family all lived. The women had not yet gone to sleep, and were talking about the dangerous visitors who were spending the night in their guest chambers.

      Chapter II

      At Vozvizhensk, the advanced fort situated some ten miles from the aoul in which Hadji Murad was spending the night, three soldiers and a non-commissioned officer left the fort and went beyond the Shahgirinsk Gate. The soldiers, dressed as Caucasian soldiers used to be in those days, wore sheepskin coats and caps, and boots that reached above their knees, and they carried their cloaks tightly rolled up and fastened across their shoulders. Shouldering arms, they first went some five hundred paces along the road and then turned off it and went some twenty paces to the right – the dead leaves rustling under their boots – till they reached the blackened trunk of a broken plane tree just visible through the darkness. There they stopped. It was at this plane tree that an ambush party was usually placed.

      The bright stars, that had seemed to be running along the tree tops while the soldiers were walking through the forest, now stood still, shining brightly between the bare branches of the trees.

      “A good job it’s dry,” said the non-commissioned officer Panov, bringing down his long gun and bayonet with a clang from his shoulder and placing it against the plane tree.

      The three soldiers did the same.

      “Sure enough I’ve lost it!” muttered Panov crossly. “Must have left it behind or I’ve dropped it on the way.”

      “What are you looking for?” asked one of the soldiers in a bright, cheerful voice.

      “The bowl of my pipe. Where the devil has it got to?”

      “Have you got the stem?” asked the cheerful voice.

      “Here it is.”

      “Then why not stick it straight into the ground?” “Not worth bothering!”

      “We’ll manage that in a minute.”

      Smoking in ambush was forbidden, but this ambush hardly deserved the name. It was rather an outpost to prevent the mountaineers from bringing up a cannon unobserved and firing at the fort as they used to. Panov did not consider it necessary to forego the pleasure of smoking, and therefore accepted the cheerful soldier’s offer. the latter took a knife from his pocket and made a small round hole in the ground. Having smoothed it, he adjusted the pipe stem to it, then filled the hole with tobacco and pressed it down, and the pipe was ready. A sulphur match flared and for a moment lit up the broad-cheeked face of the soldier who lay on his stomach, the air whistled in the stem, and Panov smelt the pleasant odor of burning tobacco.

      “Fixed ut up?” said he, rising to his feet.

      “Why, of course!”

      “What a smart chap you are, Avdeev! … As wise as a judge! Now then, lad.”

      Avdeev rolled over on his side to make room for Panov, letting smoke escape from his mouth.

      Panov lay down prone, and after wiping the mouthpiece with his sleeve, began to inhale.

      When they had had their smoke the soldiers began to talk.

      “They say the commander has had his fingers in the cashbox again,” remarked one of them in a lazy voice. “He lost at cards, you see.”

      “He’ll pay it back again,” said Panov.

      “Of course he will! He’s a good officer,” assented Avdeev.

      “Good! good!” gloomily repeated the man who had started the conversation. “In my opinion the company ought to speak to him. If you’ve taken the money, tell us how much and when you’ll repay it.’”

      “That will be as the company decides,” said Panov, tearing himself away from the pipe.

      “Of course. The community is a strong man,’” assented Avdeev, quoting a proverb.

      “There will be oats to buy and boots to get towards spring. the money will be wanted, and what shall we do if he’s pocketed it?” insisted the dissatisfied one.

      “I tell you it will be as the company wishes,” repeated Panov. “It’s not the first time; he takes it and gives it back.”

      In the Caucasus in those days each company chose men to manage its own commissariat. they received 6 rubles 50 kopeks a month per man from the treasury, and catered for the company. They planted cabbages, made hay, had their own carts, and prided themselves on their well-fed horses. The company’s money was kept in a chest of which the commander had the key, and it often happened that he borrowed from the chest. This had just happened again, and the soldiers were talking about it. The morose soldier, Nikitin, wished to demand an account from the commander, while Panov and Avdeev considered that unnecessary.

      After Panov, Nikitin had a smoke, and then spreading his cloak on the ground sat down on it leaning against the trunk of the plane tree. The soldiers were silent. Far above their heads the crowns of the trees rustled in the wind and suddenly, above this incessant low rustling, rose the howling, whining, weeping and chuckling of jackals.

      “Just listen to those accursed creatures – how they caterwaul!”

      “They’re laughing at you because your mouth’s all on one side,” remarked the high voice of the third soldier, an Ukrainian.

      All was silent again, except for the wind that swayed the branches, now revealing and now hiding the stars.

      “I say, Panov,” suddenly asked the cheerful Avdeev, “do you ever feel dull?”

      “Dull, why?” replied Panov reluctantly.

      “Well, I do… . I feel so dull sometimes that I don’t know what I might not be ready to do to myself.”

      “There now!” was all Panov replied.

      “That time when I drank all the money it was from dullness. It took hold of me … took hold of me till I thought to myself, I’ll just get blind drunk!’”

      “But sometimes drinking makes it still worse.”

      “Yes, that’s happened to me too. But what is a man to do with himself?”

      “But what makes you feel so dull?”

      “What, me? … Why, it’s the longing for home.” “Is yours a wealthy home then?”

      “No; СКАЧАТЬ