The lady-proprietor of that village, on learning of the peasant-woman's affliction, went to call upon her on the very day of the funeral.

She found her at home.

Standing in the middle of her cottage, in front of the table, she was ladling out empty[73] cabbage-soup from the bottom of a smoke-begrimed pot, in a leisurely way, with her right hand (her left hung limply by her side), and swallowing spoonful after spoonful.

The woman's face had grown sunken and dark; her eyes were red and swollen ... but she carried herself independently and uprightly, as in church.[74]

"O Lord!" thought the lady; "she can eat at such a moment ... but what coa.r.s.e feelings they have!"

And then the lady-mistress recalled how, when she had lost her own little daughter, aged nine months, a few years before, she had refused, out of grief, to hire a very beautiful villa in the vicinity of Petersburg, and had pa.s.sed the entire summer in town!--But the peasant-woman continued to sip her cabbage-soup.

At last the lady could endure it no longer.--"Tatyana!" said she....

"Good gracious!--I am amazed! Is it possible that thou didst not love thy son? How is it that thy appet.i.te has not disappeared?--How canst thou eat that cabbage-soup?"

"My Vasya is dead," replied the woman softly, and tears of suffering again began to stream down her sunken cheeks,--"and, of course, my own end has come also: my head has been taken away from me while I am still alive. But the cabbage-soup must not go to waste; for it is salted"

The lady-mistress merely shrugged her shoulders and went away. She got salt cheaply.

May, 1878.

THE AZURE REALM

O azure realm! O realm of azure, light, youth, and happiness! I have beheld thee ... in my dreams.

There were several of us in a beautiful, decorated boat. Like the breast of a swan the white sail towered aloft beneath fluttering pennants.

I did not know who my companions were; but with all my being I felt that they were as young, as merry, as happy as I was!

And I paid no heed to them. All about me I beheld only the sh.o.r.eless azure sea, all covered with a fine rippling of golden scales, and over-head an equally sh.o.r.eless azure sea, and in it, triumphantly and, as it were, smilingly, rolled on the friendly sun.

And among us, from time to time, there arose laughter, ringing and joyous as the laughter of the G.o.ds!

Or suddenly, from some one's lips, flew forth words, verses replete with wondrous beauty and with inspired power ... so that it seemed as though the very sky resounded in reply to them, and round about the sea throbbed with sympathy.... And then blissful silence began again.

Diving lightly through the soft waves, our swift boat glided on. It was not propelled by the breeze; it was ruled by our own sportive hearts.

Whithersoever we wished, thither did it move, obediently, as though it were gifted with life.

We encountered islands, magical, half-transparent islands with the hues of precious stones, jacinths and emeralds. Intoxicating perfumes were wafted from the surrounding sh.o.r.es; some of these islands pelted us with a rain of white roses and lilies-of-the-valley; from others there rose up suddenly long-winged birds, clothed in rainbow hues.

The birds circled over our heads, the lilies and roses melted in the pearly foam, which slipped along the smooth sides of our craft.

In company with the flowers and the birds, sweet, sweet sounds were wafted to our ears.... We seemed to hear women's voices in them.... And everything round about,--the sky, the sea, the bellying of the sail up aloft, the purling of the waves at the stern,--everything spoke of love, of blissful love.

And she whom each one of us loved--she was there ... invisibly and near at hand. Yet another moment and lo! her eyes would beam forth, her smile would blossom out.... Her hand would grasp thy hand, and draw thee after her into an unfading paradise!

O azure realm! I have beheld thee ... in my dream!

June, 1878.

TWO RICH MEN

When men in my presence extol Rothschild, who out of his vast revenues allots whole thousands for the education of children, the cure of the sick, the care of the aged, I laud and melt in admiration.

But while I laud and melt I cannot refrain from recalling a poverty-stricken peasant's family which received an orphaned niece into its wretched, tumble-down little hovel.

"If we take Katka," said the peasant-woman; "we shall spend our last kopeks on her, and there will be nothing left wherewith to buy salt for our porridge."

"But we will take her ... and unsalted porridge," replied the peasant-man, her husband.

Rothschild is a long way behind that peasant-man!

July, 1878.

THE OLD MAN

The dark, distressing days have come....

One's own maladies, the ailments of those dear to him, cold and the gloom of old age. Everything which thou hast loved, to which thou hast surrendered thyself irrevocably, collapses and falls into ruins. The road has taken a turn down hill.

But what is to be done? Grieve? Lament? Thou wilt help neither thyself nor others in that way....

On the withered, bent tree the foliage is smaller, more scanty--but the verdure is the same as ever.

Do thou also shrivel up, retire into thyself, into thy memories, and there, deep, very deep within, at the very bottom of thy concentrated soul, thy previous life, accessible to thee alone, will shine forth before thee with its fragrant, still fresh verdure, and the caress and strength of the springtime!

But have a care ... do not look ahead, poor old man!

July, 1878.

THE CORRESPONDENT

Two friends are sitting at a table and drinking tea.