Russian Classics Ultimate Collection: Novels, Short Stories, Plays, Folk Tales & Legends. Максим Горький

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СКАЧАТЬ thus, I gazed with an involuntary beating of the heart at the poor boat. It dived like a duck, and then, with rapidly swinging oars—like wings—it sprang forth from the abyss amid the splashes of the foam. “Ah!” I thought, “it will be dashed against the shore with all its force and broken to pieces!” But it turned aside adroitly and leaped unharmed into a little creek. Out of it stepped a man of medium height, wearing a Tartar sheepskin cap. He waved his hand, and all three set to work to drag something out of the boat. The cargo was so large that, to this day, I cannot understand how it was that the boat did not sink.

      Each of them shouldered a bundle, and they set off along the shore, and I soon lost sight of them. I had to return home; but I confess I was rendered uneasy by all these strange happenings, and I found it hard to await the morning.

      My Cossack was very much astonished when, on waking up, he saw me fully dressed. I did not, however, tell him the reason. For some time I stood at the window, gazing admiringly at the blue sky all studded with wisps of cloud, and at the distant shore of the Crimea, stretching out in a lilac-coloured streak and ending in a cliff, on the summit of which the white tower of the lighthouse was gleaming. Then I betook myself to the fortress, Phanagoriya, in order to ascertain from the Commandant at what hour I should depart for Gelenjik.

      But the Commandant, alas! could not give me any definite information. The vessels lying in the harbour were all either guard-ships or merchant-vessels which had not yet even begun to take in lading.

      “Maybe in about three or four days’ time a mail-boat will come in,” said the Commandant, “and then we shall see.”

      I returned home sulky and wrathful. My Cossack met me at the door with a frightened countenance.

      “Things are looking bad, sir!” he said.

      “Yes, my friend; goodness only knows when we shall get away!”

      Hereupon he became still more uneasy, and, bending towards me, he said in a whisper:

      “It is uncanny here! I met an under-officer from the Black Sea to-day—he’s an acquaintance of mine—he was in my detachment last year. When I told him where we were staying, he said, ‘That place is uncanny, old fellow; they’re wicked people there!’... And, indeed, what sort of a blind boy is that? He goes everywhere alone, to fetch water and to buy bread at the bazaar. It is evident they have become accustomed to that sort of thing here.”

      “Well, what then? Tell me, though, has the mistress of the place put in an appearance?”

      “During your absence to-day, an old woman and her daughter arrived.”

      “What daughter? She has no daughter!”

      “Goodness knows who it can be if it isn’t her daughter; but the old woman is sitting over there in the hut now.”

      I entered the hovel. A blazing fire was burning in the stove, and they were cooking a dinner which struck me as being a rather luxurious one for poor people. To all my questions the old woman replied that she was deaf and could not hear me. There was nothing to be got out of her. I turned to the blind boy who was sitting in front of the stove, putting twigs into the fire.

      “Now, then, you little blind devil,” I said, taking him by the ear. “Tell me, where were you roaming with the bundle last night, eh?”

      The blind boy suddenly burst out weeping, shrieking and wailing.

      “Where did I go? I did not go anywhere... With the bundle?... What bundle?”

      This time the old woman heard, and she began to mutter:

      “Hark at them plotting, and against a poor boy too! What are you touching him for? What has he done to you?”

      I had enough of it, and went out, firmly resolved to find the key to the riddle.

      I wrapped myself up in my felt cloak and, sitting down on a rock by the fence, gazed into the distance. Before me stretched the sea, agitated by the storm of the previous night, and its monotonous roar, like the murmur of a town over which slumber is beginning to creep, recalled bygone years to my mind, and transported my thoughts northward to our cold Capital. Agitated by my recollections, I became oblivious of my surroundings.

      About an hour passed thus, perhaps even longer. Suddenly something resembling a song struck upon my ear. It was a song, and the voice was a woman’s, young and fresh—but, where was it coming from?... I listened; it was a harmonious melody—now long-drawnout and plaintive, now swift and lively. I looked around me—there was nobody to be seen. I listened again—the sounds seemed to be falling from the sky. I raised my eyes. On the roof of my cabin was standing a young girl in a striped dress and with her hair hanging loose—a regular water-nymph. Shading her eyes from the sun’s rays with the palm of her hand, she was gazing intently into the distance. At one time, she would laugh and talk to herself, at another, she would strike up her song anew.

      I have retained that song in my memory, word for word:

      At their own free will

       They seem to wander

       O’er the green sea yonder,

       Those ships, as still

       They are onward going,

       With white sails flowing.

      And among those ships

       My eye can mark

       My own dear barque:

       By two oars guided

       (All unprovided

       With sails) it slips.

      The storm-wind raves:

       And the old ships—see!

       With wings spread free,

       Over the waves

       They scatter and flee!

      The sea I will hail

       With obeisance deep:

       “Thou base one, hark!

       Thou must not fail

       My little barque

       From harm to keep!”

      For lo! ‘tis bearing

       Most precious gear,

       And brave and daring

       The arms that steer

       Within the dark

       My little barque.

      Involuntarily the thought occurred to me that I had heard the same voice the night before. I reflected for a moment, and when I looked up at the roof again there was no girl to be seen. Suddenly she darted past me, with another song on her lips, and, snapping her fingers, she ran up to the old woman. Thereupon a quarrel arose between them. The old woman grew angry, and the girl laughed loudly. And then I saw my Undine running and gambolling again. She came up to where I was, stopped, and gazed fixedly into my face as if surprised at my presence. Then СКАЧАТЬ