THE HUNT
AT the head of the cavalcade rode Turka, on a hog-backed roan. On
his head he wore a shaggy cap, while, with a magnificent horn
slung across his shoulders and a knife at his belt, he looked so
cruel and inexorable that one would have thought he was going to
engage in bloody strife with his fellow men rather than to hunt a
small animal. Around the hind legs of his horse the hounds
gambolled like a cluster of checkered, restless balls. If one of
them wished to stop, it was only with the greatest difficulty
that it could do so, since not only had its leash-fellow also to
be induced to halt, but at once one of the huntsmen would wheel
round, crack his whip, and shout to the delinquent,
"Back to the pack, there!"
Arrived at a gate, Papa told us and the huntsmen to continue our
way along the road, and then rode off across a cornfield. The
harvest was at its height. On the further side of a large,
shining, yellow stretch of cornland lay a high purple belt of
forest which always figured in my eyes as a distant, mysterious
region behind which either the world ended or an uninhabited
waste began. This expanse of corn-land was dotted with swathes
and reapers, while along the lanes where the sickle had passed
could be seen the backs of women as they stooped among the tall,
thick grain or lifted armfuls of corn and rested them against the
shocks. In one corner a woman was bending over a cradle, and the
whole stubble was studded with sheaves and cornflowers. In
another direction shirt-sleeved men were standing on waggons,
shaking the soil from the stalks of sheaves, and stacking them
for carrying. As soon as the foreman (dressed in a blouse and
high boots, and carrying a tally-stick) caught sight of Papa, he
hastened to take off his lamb's-wool cap and, wiping his red
head, told the women to get up. Papa's chestnut horse went
trotting along with a prancing gait as it tossed its head and
swished its tail to and fro to drive away the gadflies and
countless other insects which tormented its flanks, while his two
greyhounds--their tails curved like sickles--went springing
gracefully over the stubble. Milka was always first, but every
now and then she would halt with a shake of her head to await the
whipper-in. The chatter of the peasants; the rumbling of horses
and waggons; the joyous cries of quails; the hum of insects as
they hung suspended in the motionless air; the smell of the soil
and grain and steam from our horses; the thousand different
lights and shadows which the burning sun cast upon the yellowish-
white cornland; the purple forest in the distance; the white
gossamer threads which were floating in the air or resting on the
soil-all these things I observed and heard and felt to the core.
Arrived at the Kalinovo wood, we found the carriage awaiting us
there, with, beside it, a one-horse waggonette driven by the
butler--a waggonette in which were a tea-urn, some apparatus for
making ices, and many other attractive boxes and bundles, all
packed in straw! There was no mistaking these signs, for they
meant that we were going to have tea, fruit, and ices in the open
air. This afforded us intense delight, since to drink tea in a
wood and on the grass and where none else had ever drunk tea
before seemed to us a treat beyond expressing.
When Turka arrived at the little clearing where the carriage was
halted he took Papa's detailed instructions as to how we were to
divide ourselves and where each of us was to go (though, as a
matter of fact, he never acted according to such instructions,
but always followed his own devices). Then he unleashed the
hounds, fastened the leashes to his saddle, whistled to the pack,
and disappeared among the young birch trees the liberated hounds
jumping about him in high delight, wagging their tails, and
sniffing and gambolling with one another as they dispersed
themselves in different directions.
"Has anyone a pocket-handkerchief to spare?" asked Papa. I took
mine from my pocket and offered it to him.
"Very well, Fasten it to this greyhound here."
"Gizana?" I asked, with the air of a connoisseur.
"Yes. Then run him along the road with you. When you come to a
little clearing in the wood stop and look about you, and don't
come back to me without a hare."
Accordingly I tied my handkerchief round Gizana's soft neck, and
set off running at full speed towards the appointed spot, Papa
laughing as he shouted after me, "Hurry up, hurry up or you'll
be late! "
Every now and then Gizana kept stopping, pricking up his ears,
and listening to the hallooing of the beaters. Whenever he did
this I was not strong enough to move him, and could do no more
than shout, "Come on, come on!" Presently he set off so fast
that I could not restrain him, and I encountered more than one
fall before we reached our destination. Selecting there a level,
shady spot near the roots of a great oak-tree, I lay down on the
turf, made Gizana crouch beside me, and waited. As usual, my
imagination far outstripped reality. I fancied that I was
pursuing at least my third hare when, as a matter of fact, the
first hound was only just giving tongue. Presently, however,
Turka's voice began to sound through the wood in louder and more
excited tones, the baying of a hound came nearer and nearer, and
then another, and then a third, and then a fourth, deep throat
joined in the rising and falling cadences of a chorus, until the
whole had united their voices in one continuous, tumultuous
burst of melody. As the Russian proverb expresses it, "The
forest had found a tongue, and the hounds were burning as with
fire."
My excitement was so great that I nearly swooned where I stood.
My lips parted themselves as though smiling, the perspiration
poured from me in streams, and, in spite of the tickling
sensation caused by the drops as they trickled over my chin, I
never thought of wiping them away. I felt that a crisis was
approaching. Yet the tension was too unnatural to last. Soon the
hounds came tearing along the edge of the wood, and then--behold,
they were racing away from me again, and of hares there was not a
sign to be seen! I looked in every direction and Gizana did the
same--pulling at his leash at first and whining. Then he lay down
again by my side, rested his muzzle on my knees, and resigned
himself to disappointment. Among the naked roots of the oak-tree
under which I was sitting. I could see countless ants swarming
over the parched grey earth and winding among the acorns,
withered oak-leaves, dry twigs, russet moss, and slender, scanty
blades of grass. In serried files they kept pressing forward on
the level track they had made for themselves--some carrying
burdens, some not. I took a piece of twig and barred their way.
Instantly it was curious to see how they made light of the
obstacle. Some got past it by creeping underneath, and some by
climbing over it. A few, however, there were (especially those
weighted with loads) who were nonplussed what to do. They either
halted and searched for a way round, or returned whence they had
come, or climbed the adjacent herbage, with the evident intention
of reaching my hand and going up the sleeve of my jacket. From
this interesting spectacle my attention was distracted by the
yellow wings of a butterfly which was fluttering alluringly
before me. Yet I had scarcely noticed it before it flew away to a
little distance and, circling over some half-faded blossoms of
white clover, settled on one of them. Whether it was the sun's
warmth that delighted it, or whether it was busy sucking nectar
from the flower, at all events it seemed thoroughly comfortable.
It scarcely moved its wings at all, and pressed itself down into
the clover until I could hardly see its body. I sat with my chin
on my hands and watched it with intense interest.
Suddenly Gizana sprang up and gave me such a violent jerk that I
nearly rolled over. I looked round. At the edge of the wood a
hare had just come into view, with one ear bent down and the
other one sharply pricked, The blood rushed to my head, and I
forgot everything else as I shouted, slipped the dog, and rushed
towards the spot. Yet all was in vain. The hare stopped, made a
rush, and was lost to view.
How confused I felt when at that moment Turka stepped from the
undergrowth (he had been following the hounds as they ran along
the edges of the wood)! He had seen my mistake (which had
consisted in my not biding my time), and now threw me a
contemptuous look as he said, "Ah, master!" And you should have
heard the tone in which he said it! It would have been a relief
to me if he had then and there suspended me to his saddle instead
of the hare. For a while I could only stand miserably where I
was, without attempting to recall the dog, and ejaculate as I
slapped my knees, "Good heavens! What a fool I was!" I could
hear the hounds retreating into the distance, and baying along
the further side of the wood as they pursued the hare, while
Turka rallied them with blasts on his gorgeous horn: yet I did
not stir.
