Leo Tolstoy: The Complete Novels and Novellas. Leo Tolstoy
Чтение книги онлайн.

Читать онлайн книгу Leo Tolstoy: The Complete Novels and Novellas - Leo Tolstoy страница 120

Название: Leo Tolstoy: The Complete Novels and Novellas

Автор: Leo Tolstoy

Издательство: Bookwire

Жанр: Языкознание

Серия:

isbn: 9782380371161

isbn:

СКАЧАТЬ of the Terek as they monotonously foamed and swirled. Others, also overcome by the heat and half naked, were rinsing clothes in the Terek, plaiting a fishing line, or humming tunes as they lay on the hot sand of the river bank. One Cossack, with a thin face much burnt by the sun, lay near the hut evidently dead drunk, by a wall which though it had been in shadow some two hours previously was now exposed to the sun’s fierce slanting rays.

      Lukashka, who stood on the watch-tower, was a tall handsome lad about twenty years old and very like his mother. His face and whole build, in spite of the angularity of youth, indicated great strength, both physical and moral. Though he had only lately joined the Cossacks at the front, it was evident from the expression of his face and the calm assurance of his attitude that he had already acquired the somewhat proud and warlike bearing peculiar to Cossacks and to men generally who continually carry arms, and that he felt he was a Cossack and fully knew his own value. His ample Circassian coat was torn in some places, his cap was on the back of his head Chechen fashion, and his leggings had slipped below his knees. His clothing was not rich, but he wore it with that peculiar Cossack foppishness which consists in imitating the Chechen brave. Everything on a real brave is ample, ragged, and neglected, only his weapons are costly. But these ragged clothes and these weapons are belted and worn with a certain air and matched in a certain manner, neither of which can be acquired by everybody and which at once strike the eye of a Cossack or a hillsman. Lukashka had this resemblance to a brave. With his hands folded under his sword, and his eyes nearly closed, he kept looking at the distant Tartar village. Taken separately his features were not beautiful, but anyone who saw his stately carriage and his dark-browed intelligent face would involuntarily say, ‘What a fine fellow!’

      ‘Look at the women, what a lot of them are walking about in the village,’ said he in a sharp voice, languidly showing his brilliant white teeth and not addressing anyone in particular.

      Nazarka who was lying below immediately lifted his head and remarked:

      ‘They must be going for water.’

      ‘Supposing one scared them with a gun?’ said Lukashka, laughing, ‘Wouldn’t they be frightened?’

      ‘It wouldn’t reach.’

      ‘What! Mine would carry beyond. Just wait a bit, and when their feast comes round I’ll go and visit Girey Khan and drink buza there,’ said Lukashka, angrily swishing away the mosquitoes which attached themselves to him.

      A rustling in the thicket drew the Cossack’s attention. A pied mongrel half-setter, searching for a scent and violently wagging its scantily furred tail, came running to the cordon. Lukashka recognized the dog as one belonging to his neighbour, Uncle Eroshka, a hunter, and saw, following it through the thicket, the approaching figure of the hunter himself.

      Uncle Eroshka was a gigantic Cossack with a broad, snow-white beard and such broad shoulders and chest that in the wood, where there was no one to compare him with, he did not look particularly tall, so well proportioned were his powerful limbs. He wore a tattered coat and, over the bands with which his legs were swathed, sandals made of undressed deer’s hide tied on with strings; while on his head he had a rough little white cap. He carried over one shoulder a screen to hide behind when shooting pheasants, and a bag containing a hen for luring hawks, and a small falcon; over the other shoulder, attached by a strap, was a wild cat he had killed; and stuck in his belt behind were some little bags containing bullets, gunpowder, and bread, a horse’s tail to swish away the mosquitoes, a large dagger in a torn scabbard smeared with old bloodstains, and two dead pheasants. Having glanced at the cordon he stopped.

      ‘Hy, Lyam!’ he called to the dog in such a ringing bass that it awoke an echo far away in the wood; and throwing over his shoulder his big gun, of the kind the Cossacks call a ‘flint’, he raised his cap.

      ‘Had a good day, good people, eh?’ he said, addressing the Cossacks in the same strong and cheerful voice, quite without effort, but as loudly as if he were shouting to someone on the other bank of the river.

      ‘Yes, yes. Uncle!’ answered from all sides the voices of the young Cossacks.

      ‘What have you seen? Tell us!’ shouted Uncle Eroshka, wiping the sweat from his broad red face with the sleeve of his coat.

      ‘Ah, there’s a vulture living in the plane tree here, Uncle. As soon as night comes he begins hovering round,’ said Nazarka, winking and jerking his shoulder and leg.

      ‘Come, come!’ said the old man incredulously.

      ‘Really, Uncle! You must keep watch,’ replied Nazarka with a laugh.

      The other Cossacks began laughing.

      The wag had not seen any vulture at all, but it had long been the custom of the young Cossacks in the cordon to tease and mislead Uncle Eroshka every time he came to them.

      ‘Eh, you fool, always lying!’ exclaimed Lukashka from the tower to Nazarka.

      Nazarka was immediately silenced.

      ‘It must be watched. I’ll watch,’ answered the old man to the great delight of all the Cossacks. ‘But have you seen any boars?’

      ‘Watching for boars, are you?’ said the corporal, bending forward and scratching his back with both hands, very pleased at the chance of some distraction. ‘It’s abreks one has to hunt here and not boars! You’ve not heard anything, Uncle, have you?’ he added, needlessly screwing up his eyes and showing his close-set white teeth.

      ‘Abreks,’ said the old man. ‘No, I haven’t. I say, have you any chikhir? Let me have a drink, there’s a good man. I’m really quite done up. When the time comes I’ll bring you some fresh meat, I really will. Give me a drink!’ he added.

      ‘Well, and are you going to watch?’ inquired the corporal, as though he had not heard what the other said.

      ‘I did mean to watch tonight,’ replied Uncle Eroshka. ‘Maybe, with God’s help, I shall kill something for the holiday. Then you shall have a share, you shall indeed!’

      ‘Uncle! Hallo, Uncle!’ called out Lukashka sharply from above, attracting everybody’s attention. All the Cossacks looked up at him. ‘Just go to the upper water-course, there’s a fine herd of boars there. I’m not inventing, really! The other day one of our Cossacks shot one there. I’m telling you the truth,’ added he, readjusting the musket at his back and in a tone that showed he was not joking.

      ‘Ah! Lukashka the Snatcher is here!’ said the old man, looking up. ‘Where has he been shooting?’

      ‘Haven’t you seen? I suppose you’re too young!’ said Lukashka. ‘Close by the ditch,’ he went on seriously with a shake of the head. ‘We were just going along the ditch when all at once we heard something crackling, but my gun was in its case. Elias fired suddenly... But I’ll show you the place, it’s not far. You just wait a bit. I know every one of their footpaths... Daddy Mosev,’ said he, turning resolutely and almost commandingly to the corporal, ‘it’s time to relieve guard!’ and holding aloft his gun he began to descend from the watch-tower without waiting for the order.

      ‘Come down!’ said the corporal, after Lukashka had started, and glanced round. ‘Is it your turn, Gurka? Then go... True enough your Lukashka has become very skilful,’ he went on, addressing the old man. ‘He keeps going about just like you, he doesn’t stay at home. The other day he killed a boar.’