Short Stories by Chekhov
Ivanitch. Don't you dare insult Emelyan!"
"Say this too, please," laughed Dyrnov: "'every little sucking-pig wants
to lay down the law.' Shall I pull your ear?"
Yegorushka felt that he could not breathe; and something which had never
happened to him before--he suddenly began shaking all over, stamping his
feet and crying shrilly:
"Beat him, beat him!"
Tears gushed from his eyes; he felt ashamed, and ran staggering back to
the waggon. The effect produced by his outburst he did not see. Lying on
the bales and twitching his arms and legs, he whispered:
"Mother, mother!"
And these men and the shadows round the camp fire, and the dark bales
and the far-away lightning, which was flashing every minute in the
distance--all struck him now as terrible and unfriendly. He was overcome
with terror and asked himself in despair why and how he had come into
this unknown land in the company of terrible peasants? Where was his
uncle now, where was Father Christopher, where was Deniska? Why were
they so long in coming? Hadn't they forgotten him? At the thought that
he was forgotten and cast out to the mercy of fate, he felt such a cold
chill of dread that he had several times an impulse to jump off the
bales of wool, and run back full speed along the road; but the thought
of the huge dark crosses, which would certainly meet him on the way, and
the lightning flashing in the distance, stopped him. . . . And only when
he whispered, "Mother, mother!" he felt as it were a little better.
The waggoners must have been full of dread, too. After Yegorushka had
run away from the camp fire they sat at first for a long time in
silence, then they began speaking in hollow undertones about something,
saying that it was coming and that they must make haste and get away
from it. . . . They quickly finished supper, put out the fire and began
harnessing the horses in silence. From their fluster and the broken
phrases they uttered it was apparent they foresaw some trouble. Before
they set off on their way, Dymov went up to Panteley and asked softly:
"What's his name?"
"Yegory," answered Panteley.
Dymov put one foot on the wheel, caught hold of the cord which was tied
round the bales and pulled himself up. Yegorushka saw his face and curly
head. The face was pale and looked grave and exhausted, but there was no
expression of spite in it.
"Yera!" he said softly, "here, hit me!"
Yegorushka looked at him in surprise. At that instant there was a flash
of lightning.
"It's all right, hit me," repeated Dymov. And without waiting for
Yegorushka to hit him or to speak to him, he jumped down and said: "How
dreary I am!"
Then, swaying from one leg to the other and moving his shoulder-blades,
he sauntered lazily alongside the string of waggons and repeated in a
voice half weeping, half angry:
"How dreary I am! O Lord! Don't you take offence, Emelyan," he said as
he passed Emelyan. "Ours is a wretched cruel life!"
There was a flash of lightning on the right, and, like a reflection in
the looking-glass, at once a second flash in the distance.
"Yegory, take this," cried Panteley, throwing up something big and dark.
"What is it?" asked Yegorushka.
"A mat. There will be rain, so cover yourself up."
Yegorushka sat up and looked about him. The distance had grown
perceptibly blacker, and now oftener than every minute winked with a
pale light. The blackness was being bent towards the right as though by
its own weight.
"Will there be a storm, Grandfather?" asked Yegorushka.
"Ah, my poor feet, how they ache!" Panteley said in a high-pitched
voice, stamping his feet and not hearing the boy.
On the left someone seemed to strike a match in the sky; a pale
phosphorescent streak gleamed and went out. There was a sound as though
someone very far away were walking over an iron roof, probably barefoot,
for the iron gave a hollow rumble.
"It's set in!" cried Kiruha.
Between the distance and the horizon on the right there was a flash of
lightning so vivid that it lighted up part of the steppe and the spot
where the clear sky met the blackness. A terrible cloud was swooping
down, without haste, a compact mass; big black shreds hung from its
edge; similar shreds pressing one upon another were piling up on the
right and left horizon. The tattered, ragged look of the storm-cloud
gave it a drunken disorderly air. There was a distinct, not smothered,
growl of thunder. Yegorushka crossed himself and began quickly putting
on his great-coat.
"I am dreary!" Dymov's shout floated from the foremost waggon, and it
could be told from his voice that he was beginning to be ill-humoured
again. "I am so dreary!"
All at once there was a squall of wind, so violent that it almost
snatched away Yegorushka's bundle and mat; the mat fluttered in all
directions and flapped on the bale and on Yegorushka's face. The wind
dashed whistling over the steppe, whirled round in disorder and raised
such an uproar from the grass that neither the thunder nor the creaking
of the wheels could be heard; it blew from the black storm-cloud,
carrying with it clouds of dust and the scent of rain and wet earth. The
moonlight grew mistier, as it were dirtier; the stars were even more
overcast; and clouds of dust could be seen hurrying along the edge of
the road, followed by their shadows. By now, most likely, the whirlwind
eddying round and lifting from the earth dust, dry grass and feathers,
was mounting to the very sky; uprooted plants must have been flying by
that very black storm-cloud, and how frightened they must have been! But
through the dust that clogged the eyes nothing could be seen but the
flash of lightning.
Yegorushka, thinking it would pour with rain in a minute, knelt up and
covered himself with the mat.
"Panteley-ey!" someone shouted in the front. "A. . . a. . . va!"
"I can't!" Panteley answered in a loud high voice. "A . . . a . . . va!
Arya . . . a!"
There was an angry clap of thunder, which rolled across the sky from
right to left, then back again, and died away near the foremost waggon.
"Holy, holy, holy, Lord of Sabaoth," whispered Yegorushka, crossing
himself. "Fill heaven and earth with Thy glory."
The blackness in the sky yawned wide and breathed white fire. At once
there was another clap of thunder. It had scarcely ceased when there was
a flash of lightning so broad that Yegorushka suddenly saw through a
slit in the mat the whole highroad to the very horizon, all the
waggoners and even Kiruha's waistcoat. The black shreds had by now moved
upwards from the left, and one of them, a coarse, clumsy monster like a
claw with fingers, stretched to the moon. Yegorushka made up his mind to
shut his eyes tight, to pay no attention to it, and to wait till it was
all over.
The rain was for some reason long in coming. Yegorushka peeped out from
the mat in the hope that perhaps the storm-cloud was passing over. It
was fearfully dark. Yegorushka could see neither Panteley, nor the bale
of wool, nor himself; he looked sideways towards the place where the
moon had lately been, but there was the same black darkness there as
over the waggons. And in the darkness the flashes of lightning seemed
more violent and blinding, so that they hurt his eyes.
"Panteley!" called Yegorushka.
No answer followed. But now a gust of wind for the last time flung up
the mat and hurried away. A quiet regular sound was heard. A big cold
drop fell on Yegorushka's knee, another trickled over his hand. He
noticed that his knees were not covered, and tried to rearrange the mat,
but at that moment something began pattering on the road, then on the
shafts and the bales. It was the rain. As though they understood one
another, the rain and the mat began prattling of something rapidly,
gaily and most annoyingly like two magpies.
Yegorushka knelt up or rather squatted on his boots. While the rain was
pattering on the mat, he leaned forward to screen his knees, which were
suddenly wet. He succeeded in covering his knees, but in less than a
minute was aware of a penetrating, unpleasant dampness behind on his
back and the calves of his legs. He returned to his former position,
exposing his knees to the rain, and wondered what to do to rearrange the
mat which he could not see in the darkness. But his arms were already
wet, the water was trickling up his sleeves and down his collar, and his
shoulder-blades felt chilly. And he made up his mind to do nothing but
sit motionless and wait till it was all over.
"Holy, holy, holy!" he whispered.
Suddenly, exactly over his head, the sky cracked with a fearful
deafening din; he huddled up and held his breath, waiting for the
fragments to fall upon his head and back. He inadvertently opened his
eyes and saw a blinding intense light flare out and flash five times on
his fingers, his wet sleeves, and on the trickles of water running from
the mat upon the bales and down to the ground. There was a fresh peal of
thunder as violent and awful; the sky was not growling and rumbling now,
but uttering short crashing sounds like the crackling of dry wood.
"Trrah! tah! tah! tah!" the thunder rang out distinctly, rolled over the
sky, seemed to stumble, and somewhere by the foremost waggons or far
behind to fall with an abrupt angry "Trrra!"
The flashes of lightning had at first been only terrible, but with such
thunder they seemed sinister and menacing. Their magic light pierced
through closed eyelids and sent a chill all over the body. What could he
do not to see them? Yegorushka made up his mind to turn over on his
face. Cautiously, as though afraid of being watched, he got on all
fours, and his hands slipping on the wet bale, he turned back again.
"Trrah! tah! tah!" floated over his head, rolled under the waggons and
exploded "Kraa!"
Again he inadvertently opened his eyes and saw a new danger: three huge
giants with long pikes were following the waggon! A flash of lightning
gleamed on the points of their pikes and lighted up their figures very
distinctly. They were men of huge proportions, with covered faces, bowed
heads, and heavy footsteps. They seemed gloomy and dispirited and lost
in thought. Perhaps they were not following the waggons with any harmful
intent, and yet there was something awful in their proximity.
Yegorushka turned quickly forward, and trembling all over cried:
"Panteley! Grandfather!"
"Trrah! tah! tah!" the sky answered him.
He opened his eyes to see if the waggoners were there. There were
flashes of lightning in two places, which lighted up the road to the far
distance, the whole string of waggons and all the waggoners. Streams of
water were flowing along the road and bubbles were dancing. Panteley was
walking beside the waggon; his tall hat and his shoulder were covered
with a small mat; his figure expressed neither terror nor uneasiness, as
though he were deafened by the thunder and blinded by the lightning.
"Grandfather, the giants!" Yegorushka shouted to him in tears.
But the old man did not hear. Further away walked Emelyan. He was
covered from head to foot with a big mat and was triangular in shape.
Vassya, without anything over him, was walking with the same wooden step
as usual, lifting his feet high and not bending his knees. In the flash
of lightning it seemed as though the waggons were not moving and the men
were motionless, that Vassya's lifted foot was rigid in the same
position. . . .
Yegorushka called the old man once more. Getting no answer, he sat
motionless, and no longer waited for it all to end. He was convinced
that the thunder would kill him in another minute, that he would
accidentally open his eyes and see the terrible giants, and he left off
crossing himself, calling the old man and thinking of his mother, and