BOYHOOD
By LEO TOLSTOY
Translated by CJ HOGARTH
I
A SLOW JOURNEY
Again two carriages stood at the front door of the house at
Petrovskoe. In one of them sat Mimi, the two girls, and their
maid, with the bailiff, Jakoff, on the box, while in the other--a
britchka--sat Woloda, myself, and our servant Vassili. Papa, who
was to follow us to Moscow in a few days, was standing bareheaded
on the entrance-steps. He made the sign of the cross at the
windows of the carriages, and said:
"Christ go with you! Good-bye."
Jakoff and our coachman (for we had our own horses) lifted their
caps in answer, and also made the sign of the cross.
"Amen. God go with us!"
The carriages began to roll away, and the birch-trees of the
great avenue filed out of sight.
I was not in the least depressed on this occasion, for my mind
was not so much turned upon what I had left as upon what was
awaiting me. In proportion as the various objects connected with
the sad recollections which had recently filled my imagination
receded behind me, those recollections lost their power, and gave
place to a consolatory feeling of life, youthful vigour,
freshness, and hope.
Seldom have I spent four days more--well, I will not say gaily,
since I should still have shrunk from appearing gay--but more
agreeably and pleasantly than those occupied by our journey.
No longer were my eyes confronted with the closed door of Mamma's
room (which I had never been able to pass without a pang), nor
with the covered piano (which nobody opened now, and at which I
could never look without trembling), nor with mourning dresses
(we had each of us on our ordinary travelling clothes), nor with
all those other objects which recalled to me so vividly our
irreparable loss, and forced me to abstain from any manifestation
of merriment lest I should unwittingly offend against HER memory.
On the contrary, a continual succession of new and exciting
objects and places now caught and held my attention, and the
charms of spring awakened in my soul a soothing sense of
satisfaction with the present and of blissful hope for the
future.
Very early next morning the merciless Vassili (who had only just
entered our service, and was therefore, like most people in such
a position, zealous to a fault) came and stripped off my
counterpane, affirming that it was time for me to get up, since
everything was in readiness for us to continue our journey.
Though I felt inclined to stretch myself and rebel--though I
would
gladly have spent another quarter of an hour in sweet enjoyment
of my morning slumber--Vassili's inexorable face showed that he
would grant me no respite, but that he was ready to tear away the
counterpane twenty times more if necessary. Accordingly I
submitted myself to the inevitable and ran down into the
courtyard to wash myself at the fountain.
In the coffee-room, a tea-kettle was already surmounting the fire
which Milka the ostler, as red in the face as a crab, was blowing
with a pair of bellows. All was grey and misty in the courtyard,
like steam from a smoking dunghill, but in the eastern sky the
sun was diffusing a clear, cheerful radiance, and making the
straw roofs of the sheds around the courtyard sparkle with the
night dew. Beneath them stood our horses, tied to mangers, and I
could hear the ceaseless sound of their chewing. A curly-haired
dog which had been spending the night on a dry dunghill now rose
in lazy fashion and, wagging its tail, walked slowly across the
courtyard.
The bustling landlady opened the creaking gates, turned her
meditative cows into the street (whence came the lowing and
bellowing of other cattle), and exchanged a word or two with a
sleepy neighbour. Philip, with his shirt-sleeves rolled up, was
working the windlass of a draw-well, and sending sparkling fresh
water coursing into an oaken trough, while in the pool beneath it
some early-rising ducks were taking a bath. It gave me pleasure
to watch his strongly-marked, bearded face, and the veins and
muscles as they stood out upon his great powerful hands whenever
he made an extra effort. In the room behind the partition-wall
where Mimi and the girls had slept (yet so near to ourselves that
we had exchanged confidences overnight) movements now became
audible, their maid kept passing in and out with clothes, and, at
last the door opened and we were summoned to breakfast. Woloda,
however, remained in a state of bustle throughout as he ran to
fetch first one article and then another and urged the maid to
hasten her preparations.
The horses were put to, and showed their impatience by tinkling
their bells. Parcels, trunks, dressing-cases, and boxes were
replaced, and we set about taking our seats. Yet, every time that
we got in, the mountain of luggage in the britchka seemed to have
grown larger than before, and we had much ado to understand how
things had been arranged yesterday, and how we should sit now. A
tea-chest, in particular, greatly inconvenienced me, but Vassili
declared that "things will soon right themselves," and I had no
choice but to believe him.
The sun was just rising, covered with dense white clouds, and
every object around us was standing out in a cheerful, calm sort
of radiance. The whole was beautiful to look at, and I felt
comfortable and light of heart.
Before us the road ran like a broad, sinuous ribbon through
cornfields glittering with dew. Here and there a dark bush or
young birch-tree cast a long shadow over the ruts and scattered
grass-tufts of the track. Yet even the monotonous din of our
carriage-wheels and collar-bells could not drown the joyous song
of soaring larks, nor the combined odour of moth-eaten cloth,
dust, and sourness peculiar to our britchka overpower the fresh
scents of the morning. I felt in my heart that delightful impulse
to be up and doing which is a sign of sincere enjoyment.
As I had not been able to say my prayers in the courtyard of the
inn, but had nevertheless been assured once that on the very
first day when I omitted to perform that ceremony some misfortune
would overtake me, I now hastened to rectify the omission. Taking
off my cap, and stooping down in a corner of the britchka, I duly
recited my orisons, and unobtrusively signed the sign of the
cross beneath my coat. Yet all the while a thousand different
objects were distracting my attention, and more than once I
inadvertently repeated a prayer twice over.
Soon on the little footpath beside the road became visible some
slowly moving figures. They were pilgrims. On their heads they
had dirty handkerchiefs, on their backs wallets of birch-bark,
and on their feet bundles of soiled rags and heavy bast shoes.
Moving their staffs in regular rhythm, and scarcely throwing us a
glance, they pressed onwards with heavy tread and in single file.
"Where have they come from?" I wondered to myself, "and whither
are they bound? Is it a long pilgrimage they are making?" But
soon the shadows they cast on the road became indistinguishable
from the shadows of the bushes which they passed.
Next a carriage-and-four could be seen approaching us. In two
seconds the faces which looked out at us from it with smiling
curiosity had vanished. How strange it seemed that those faces
should have nothing in common with me, and that in all
probability they would never meet my eyes again!
Next came a pair of post-horses, with the traces looped up to
their collars. On one of them a young postillion-his lamb's wool
cap cocked to one side-was negligently kicking his booted legs
against the flanks of his steed as he sang a melancholy ditty.
Yet his face and attitude seemed to me to express such perfect
carelessness and indolent ease that I imagined it to be the
height of happiness to be a postillion and to sing melancholy
songs.
Far off, through a cutting in the road, there soon stood out
against the light-blue sky, the green roof of a village church.
Presently the village itself became visible, together with the
roof of the manor-house and the garden attached to it. Who lived
in that house? Children, parents, teachers? Why should we not
call there and make the acquaintance of its inmates?
Next we overtook a file of loaded waggons--a procession to which
our vehicles had to yield the road.
"What have you got in there?" asked Vassili of one waggoner who
was dangling his legs lazily over the splashboard of his
conveyance and flicking his whip about as he gazed at us with a
stolid, vacant look; but he only made answer when we were too far
off to catch what he said.
"And what have YOU got?" asked Vassili of a second waggoner who
was lying at full length under a new rug on the driving-seat of
his vehicle. The red poll and red face beneath it lifted
themselves up for a second from the folds of the rug, measured
our britchka with a cold, contemptuous look, and lay down again;
whereupon I concluded that the driver was wondering to himself
who we were, whence we had come, and whither we were going.
These various objects of interest had absorbed so much of my time
that, as yet, I had paid no attention to the crooked figures on
the verst posts as we passed them in rapid succession; but in
time the sun began to burn my head and back, the road to become
increasingly dusty, the impedimenta in the carriage to grow more
and more uncomfortable, and myself to feel more and more cramped.
Consequently, I relapsed into devoting my whole faculties to the
distance-posts and their numerals, and to solving difficult
mathematical problems for reckoning the time when we should
arrive at the next posting-house.
"Twelve versts are a third of thirty-six, and in all there are
forty-one to Lipetz. We have done a third and how much, then?",
and so forth, and so forth.
"Vassili," was my next remark, on observing that he was beginning
to nod on the box-seat, "suppose we change seats? Will you?"
Vassili agreed, and had no sooner stretched himself out in the
body of the vehicle than he began to snore. To me on my new
perch, however, a most interesting spectacle now became visible--
namely, our horses, all of which were familiar to me down to the
smallest detail.
"Why is Diashak on the right today, Philip, not on the left?" I
asked knowingly. "And Nerusinka is not doing her proper share of
the pulling."
"One could not put Diashak on the left," replied Philip,
altogether ignoring my last remark. "He is not the kind of horse
to put there at all. A horse like the one on the left now is the
right kind of one for the job."
After this fragment of eloquence, Philip turned towards Diashak
and began to do his best to worry the poor animal by jogging at
the reins, in spite of the fact that Diashak was doing well and
dragging the vehicle almost unaided. This Philip continued to do
until he found it convenient to breathe and rest himself awhile
and to settle his cap askew, though it had looked well enough
before.
I profited by the opportunity to ask him to let me have the reins
to hold, until, the whole six in my hand, as well as the whip, I
had attained complete happiness. Several times I asked whether I
was doing things right, but, as usual, Philip was never
satisfied, and soon destroyed my felicity.
The heat increased until a hand showed itself at the carriage
window, and waved a bottle and a parcel of eatables; whereupon
Vassili leapt briskly from the britchka, and ran forward to get
us something to eat and drink.
When we arrived at a steep descent, we all got out and ran down
it to a little bridge, while Vassili and Jakoff followed,
supporting the carriage on either side, as though to hold it up
in the event of its threatening to upset.
After that, Mimi gave permission for a change of seats, and
sometimes Woloda or myself would ride in the carriage, and
Lubotshka or Katenka in the britchka. This arrangement greatly
pleased the girls, since much more fun went on in the britchka.
Just when the day was at its hottest, we got out at a wood, and,
breaking off a quantity of branches, transformed our vehicle into
a bower. This travelling arbour then bustled on to catch the
carriage up, and had the effect of exciting Lubotshka to one of
those piercing shrieks of delight which she was in the habit of
occasionally emitting.
At last we drew near the village where we were to halt and dine.
Already we could perceive the smell of the place--the smell of
smoke and tar and sheep-and distinguish the sound of voices,
footsteps, and carts. The bells on our horses began to ring less
clearly than they had done in the open country, and on both sides
the road became lined with huts--dwellings with straw roofs,
carved porches, and small red or green painted shutters to the
windows, through which, here and there, was a woman's face
looking inquisitively out. Peasant children clad in smocks only
stood staring open-eyed or, stretching out their arms to us, ran
barefooted through the dust to climb on to the luggage behind,
despite Philip's menacing gestures. Likewise, red-haired waiters
came darting around the carriages to invite us, with words and
signs, to select their several hostelries as our halting-place.
Presently a gate creaked, and we entered a courtyard. Four hours
of rest and liberty now awaited us.
