The Horse-stealers Page #3

"The Horse-Stealers" is a collection of short stories by Anton Pavlovich Chekhov, showcasing the author's keen observations of human nature and societal issues in late 19th-century Russia. Through a variety of characters and settings, Chekhov explores themes of morality, the struggles of everyday life, and the complexities of relationships. The titular story delves into the consequences of crime and the moral dilemmas faced by individuals, while the other pieces reflect Chekhov's signature blend of humor and poignancy, revealing the bittersweet realities of existence. This collection highlights Chekhov's skill in capturing the nuances of human emotion and the intricacies of social dynamics.

								

"But now they have only Filya left, and he is blind."

"Yes, there is no one but Filya," said Kalashnikov, with a sigh. "Reckon
it up, he must be seventy; the German settlers knocked out one of his
eyes, and he does not see well with the other. It is cataract. In old
days the police officer would shout as soon as he saw him: 'Hey, you
Shamil!' and all the peasants called him that--he was Shamil all over the
place; and now his only name is One-eyed Filya. But he was a fine
fellow! Lyuba's father, Andrey Grigoritch, and he stole one night into
Rozhnovo--there were cavalry regiments stationed there--and carried off
nine of the soldiers' horses, the very best of them. They weren't
frightened of the sentry, and in the morning they sold all the horses
for twenty roubles to the gypsy Afonka. Yes! But nowadays a man
contrives to carry off a horse whose rider is drunk or asleep, and has
no fear of God, but will take the very boots from a drunkard, and then
slinks off and goes away a hundred and fifty miles with a horse, and
haggles at the market, haggles like a Jew, till the policeman catches
him, the fool. There is no fun in it; it is simply a disgrace! A paltry
set of people, I must say."

"What about Merik?" asked Lyubka.

"Merik is not one of us," said Kalashnikov. "He is a Harkov man from
Mizhiritch. But that he is a bold fellow, that's the truth; there's no
gainsaying that he is a fine fellow."

Lyubka looked slily and gleefully at Merik, and said:

"It wasn't for nothing they dipped him in a hole in the ice."

"How was that?" asked Yergunov.

"It was like this . . ." said Merik, and he laughed. "Filya carried off
three horses from the Samoylenka tenants, and they pitched upon me.
There were ten of the tenants at Samoylenka, and with their labourers
there were thirty altogether, and all of them Molokans . . . . So one of
them says to me at the market: 'Come and have a look, Merik; we have
brought some new horses from the fair.' I was interested, of course. I
went up to them, and the whole lot of them, thirty men, tied my hands
behind me and led me to the river. 'We'll show you fine horses,' they
said. One hole in the ice was there already; they cut another beside it
seven feet away. Then, to be sure, they took a cord and put a noose
under my armpits, and tied a crooked stick to the other end, long enough
to reach both holes. They thrust the stick in and dragged it through. I
went plop into the ice-hole just as I was, in my fur coat and my high
boots, while they stood and shoved me, one with his foot and one with
his stick, then dragged me under the ice and pulled me out of the other
hole."

Lyubka shuddered and shrugged.

"At first I was in a fever from the cold," Merik went on, "but when they
pulled me out I was helpless, and lay in the snow, and the Molokans
stood round and hit me with sticks on my knees and my elbows. It hurt
fearfully. They beat me and they went away . . . and everything on me
was frozen, my clothes were covered with ice. I got up, but I couldn't
move. Thank God, a woman drove by and gave me a lift."

Meanwhile Yergunov had drunk five or six glasses of vodka; his heart
felt lighter, and he longed to tell some extraordinary, wonderful story
too, and to show that he, too, was a bold fellow and not afraid of
anything.

"I'll tell you what happened to us in Penza Province . . ." he began.

Either because he had drunk a great deal and was a little tipsy, or
perhaps because he had twice been detected in a lie, the peasants took
not the slightest notice of him, and even left off answering his
questions. What was worse, they permitted themselves a frankness in his
presence that made him feel uncomfortable and cold all over, and that
meant that they took no notice of him.

Kalashnikov had the dignified manners of a sedate and sensible man; he
spoke weightily, and made the sign of the cross over his mouth every
time he yawned, and no one could have supposed that this was a thief, a
heartless thief who had stripped poor creatures, who had already been
twice in prison, and who had been sentenced by the commune to exile in
Siberia, and had been bought off by his father and uncle, who were as
great thieves and rogues as he was. Merik gave himself the airs of a
bravo. He saw that Lyubka and Kalashnikov were admiring him, and looked
upon himself as a very fine fellow, and put his arms akimbo, squared his
chest, or stretched so that the bench creaked under him. . . .

After supper Kalashnikov prayed to the holy image without getting up
from his seat, and shook hands with Merik; the latter prayed too, and
shook Kalashnikov's hand. Lyubka cleared away the supper, shook out on
the table some peppermint biscuits, dried nuts, and pumpkin seeds, and
placed two bottles of sweet wine.

"The kingdom of heaven and peace everlasting to Andrey Grigoritch," said
Kalashnikov, clinking glasses with Merik. "When he was alive we used to
gather together here or at his brother Martin's, and--my word! my word!
what men, what talks! Remarkable conversations! Martin used to be here,
and Filya, and Fyodor Stukotey. . . . It was all done in style, it was
all in keeping. . . . And what fun we had! We did have fun, we did have
fun!"

Lyubka went out and soon afterwards came back wearing a green kerchief
and beads.

"Look, Merik, what Kalashnikov brought me to-day," she said.

She looked at herself in the looking-glass, and tossed her head several
times to make the beads jingle. And then she opened a chest and began
taking out, first, a cotton dress with red and blue flowers on it, and
then a red one with flounces which rustled and crackled like paper, then
a new kerchief, dark blue, shot with many colours--and all these things
she showed and flung up her hands, laughing as though astonished that
she had such treasures.

Kalashnikov tuned the balalaika and began playing it, but Yergunov could
not make out what sort of song he was singing, and whether it was gay or
melancholy, because at one moment it was so mournful he wanted to cry,
and at the next it would be merry. Merik suddenly jumped up and began
tapping with his heels on the same spot, then, brandishing his arms, he
moved on his heels from the table to the stove, from the stove to the
chest, then he bounded up as though he had been stung, clicked the heels
of his boots together in the air, and began going round and round in a
crouching position. Lyubka waved both her arms, uttered a desperate
shriek, and followed him. At first she moved sideways, like a snake, as
though she wanted to steal up to someone and strike him from behind. She
tapped rapidly with her bare heels as Merik had done with the heels of
his boots, then she turned round and round like a top and crouched down,
and her red dress was blown out like a bell. Merik, looking angrily at
her, and showing his teeth in a grin, flew towards her in the same
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