There are forests along the Oka, from Kasimov to Mouron, and there are forests on the Volga, too, stretching as far as the Urals.
Yes; it is all so boundless and wonderful.”
Grandmother looked at him askance, and winked at me, and he, stumbling over the hillocks, let fall some disjointed, dry words that have remained forever fixed in my memory.
“We were taking some empty oil-casks from Saratov to Makara on the Yamarka, and we had with us as skipper Kyril of Poreshka. The mate was a Tatar — Asaph, or some such name.
When we reached Jegulia the wind was right in our faces, blowing with all its force; and as it remained in the same quarter and tossed us about, we went on shore to cook some food for ourselves.
It was Maytime. The sea lay smooth around the land, and the waves just floated on her, like a flock of birds — like thousands of swans which sport on the Caspian Sea.
The hills of Jegulia are green in the springtime; the sun floods the earth with gold.
We rested; we became friendly; we seemed to be drawn to one another. It was gray and cold on the river, but on shore it was warm and fragrant.
At eventide our Kyril — he was a harsh man and well on in years — stood up, took off his cap, and said:
‘Well, children, I am no longer either chief or servant. Go away by yourselves, and I will go to the forest.’
We were all startled. What was it that he was saying?
We ought not to be left without some one responsible to be master. You see, people can’t get on without a head, although it is only on the Volga, which is like a straight road. It is possible to lose one’s way, for people alone are only like a senseless beast, and who cares what becomes of them?
We were frightened; but he — he had made up his mind.
T have no desire to go on living as your shepherd; I am going into the forest.’
Some of us had half a mind to seize and keep him by force, but the others said,
‘Wait!’
Then the Tatar mate set up a cry: T shall go, too!’
It was very bad luck.
The Tatar had not been paid by the proprietors for the last two journeys; in fact, he had done half of a third one without pay, and that was a lot of money to lose in those days.
We wrangled over the matter until night, and then seven of our company left us, leaving only sixteen or fourteen of us.
That’s what your forests do for people!”
“Did they go and join the brigands?”
“Maybe, or they may have become hermits. We did not inquire into the matter then.”
Grandmother crossed herself.
“Holy Mother of God!
When one thinks of people, one cannot help being sorry for them.”
“We are all given the same powers of reason, you know, where the devil draws.”
We entered the forest by a wet path between marshy hillocks and frail fir-trees.
I thought that it must be lovely to go and live in the woods as Kyril of Poreshka had done.
There are no chattering human creatures there, no fights or drunkenness. There I should be able to forget the repulsive greediness of grandfather and mother’s sandy grave, all of which things hurt me, and weighed on my heart with an oppressive heaviness.
When we came to a dry place grandmother said:
“We must have a snack now. Sit down.”
In her basket there were rye bread, onions, cucumbers, salt, and curds wrapped in a cloth. Grandfather looked at all this in confusion and blinked.
“But I did not bring anything to eat, good Mother.”
“There is enough for us all.”
We sat down, leaning against the mast-like trunk of a fir-tree. The air was laden with a resinous odor; from the fields blew a gentle wind; the shave-grass waved to and fro. Grandmother plucked the herbs with her dark hands, and told me about the medicinal properties of St. John’s-wort, betony, and rib-wort, and of the secret power of bracken.
Grandfather hewed the fallen trees in pieces, and it was my part to carry the logs and put them all in one place; but I stole away unnoticed into the thicket after grandmother. She looked as if she were floating among the stout, hardy tree-trunks, and as if she were diving when she stooped to the earth, which was strewn with fir-cones.
She talked to herself as she went along.
“We have come too early again. There will be hardly any mushrooms.
Lord, how badly Thou lookest after the poor! Mushrooms are the treat of the poor.”
I followed her silently and cautiously, not to attract her attention. I did not wish to interrupt her conversation with God, the herbs, and the frogs.
But she saw me.
“Have you run away from grandfather?”
And stooping to the black earth, splendidly decked in flowered vestments, she spoke of the time when God, enraged with mankind, flooded the earth with water and drowned all living creatures.
“But the sweet Mother of God had beforehand collected the seeds of everything in a basket and hidden them, and when it was all over, she begged the sun: ‘Dry the earth from end to end, and then will all the people sing thy praises.’
The sun dried the earth, and she sowed the seed.
God looked. Once more the earth was covered with living creatures, herbs, cattle, and people.
‘Who has done this against My will?’ He asked.
And here she confessed, and as God had been sorry Himself to see the earth bare, He said to her, ‘You have done well.’ ”
I liked. this story, but it surprised me, and I said very gravely: