The Witch Page #21

"The Witch" by Aleksandr Kuprin is a haunting novella that explores the themes of love, obsession, and the supernatural. Set in a small Russian village, the story follows the enigmatic figure of a beautiful woman rumored to be a witch. As the protagonist becomes entranced by her mysterious allure, he navigates the boundaries between desire and despair, grappling with the darker aspects of human emotion and the consequences of his actions. Kuprin's lyrical prose and psychological depth create a compelling narrative that delves into the complexities of passion and the fear of the unknown.

• Novel

								

Olyessia interrupted me meekly.

I could not keep back the tears any more which had been choking my
throat and burning my eyes. I pressed my face close to Olyessia’s
shoulder, and I began to cry bitterly, silently, trembling all over my
body.

‘You are crying? You are crying?’ There was surprise, tenderness, and
compassion in her voice. ‘My darling ... don’t ... please don’t....
Don’t torment yourself, my darling.... I feel so happy near you....
Don’t let us cry while we are together. Let us be happy for the last
days, then it won’t be so hard for us to part.’

I raised my head in amazement. A vague presentiment began slowly to
press upon my heart.

‘The last days, Olyessia? What do you mean--the last? Why should we
part?’

Olyessia shut her eyes and kept silence for some seconds. ‘We must
part, Vanichka,’ she said resolutely. ‘When I’m a little bit better,
we’ll go away from here, granny and I. We must not stay here any
longer.’

‘Are you afraid of anything?’

‘No, my darling, I’m not afraid of anything, if it comes to that.
But why should I tempt people into mischief? Perhaps you don’t
know.... Over there--in Perebrod.... I was so angry and ashamed that
I threatened them.... And now if anything happens, they will inform
on us. If the cattle begin to die or a hut is set on fire--we shall
be the guilty ones. Granny’--she turned to Manuilikha, raising her
voice--‘isn’t it true what I say?’

‘What did you say, little granddaughter? I confess I didn’t hear,’ the
old woman mumbled, coming closer and putting her hand to her ear.

‘I said that whatever misfortune happens in Perebrod now they’ll put
all the blame on us.’

‘That’s true, that’s true, Olyessia--they’ll throw everything on us,
the miserable wretches.... We are no dwellers in this world. They
will destroy us both, destroy us utterly, the cursed.... Besides, how
did they drive me out of the village?... Why?... Wasn’t it just the
same? I threatened them ... just out of vexation, too.... One stupid
fool of a woman--and lo and behold her child died. It was no fault of
mine at all--not a dream of my dreaming or a spirit of my calling;
but they nearly killed me all the same, the devils.... They began to
stone me.... I ran away and only just managed to protect you--you were
a little tiny child then.... Well, I thought, it doesn’t matter if
they give it to me, but why should an innocent child be injured....
No, it all comes to the same thing--they’re savages, a dirty lot of
gallows’-birds.’

‘But where will you go? You haven’t any relations or friends
anywhere.... Finally, you’ll have to have money to settle in a new
place.’

‘We’ll make shift somehow,’ Olyessia said negligently. ‘There’ll be
money as well. Granny has saved something.’

‘Money as well!’ the old woman echoed angrily, going away from the bed.
‘Widows’ mites, washed in tears----’

‘Olyessia.... What’s to become of me? You don’t want even to think
of me!’ I exclaimed, feeling a bitter, sick, ugly reproach against
Olyessia rising within me.

She raised herself a little, and, careless of her grandmother’s
presence, took my head into her hands, and kissed me on the cheeks and
forehead several times in succession.

‘I think of you most of all, my own! Only ... you see ... it’s not our
fate to be together ... that is it.... You remember, I spread out the
cards for you? Everything happened as they foretold. It means that Fate
does not will our happiness.... If it were not for this, do you think I
would be frightened of anything?’

‘Olyessia, you’re talking of fate again!’ I cried impatiently. ‘I don’t
want to believe in it ... and I never will believe.’

‘Oh no, no, no!... Don’t say that.’ Olyessia began in a frightened
whisper. ‘It’s not for me I’m afraid, but you. No you’d better not
start us talking about it.’

In vain I tried to dissuade Olyessia; in vain I painted glowing
pictures of unbroken happiness for her, which neither curious fate nor
ugly, wicked people could disturb. Olyessia only kissed my hands and
shook her head.

‘No ... no ... no.... I know. I see,’ she repeated persistently.
‘There’s nothing but sorrow awaits us ... nothing ... nothing.’

Disconcerted and baffled by this superstitious obstinacy, I asked at
length, ‘At least you will let me know the day you are going away?’

Olyessia pondered. Suddenly the shadow of a smile flickered over her
lips. ‘I’ll tell you a little story for that. Once upon a time a wolf
was running through the forest when he saw a little hare and said to
him: “Hi, you hare! I’ll eat you!” The hare began to implore him: “Have
mercy on me. I want to live. I have little children at home.” The wolf
did not agree, so the hare said: “Well, let me live another three days
in the world; then you can eat me, but still I shall feel it easier to
die.” The wolf gave him his three days. He didn’t eat him, but only
kept a watch on him. One day passed, then the second, and at last the
third was coming to an end. “Well, get ready now,” said the wolf, “I’m
going to eat you at once.” Then my hare began to weep with bitter
tears. “Oh, why did you give me those three days, wolf? It would have
been far better if you had eaten the first moment that you saw me. The
whole of these three days it hasn’t been life for me, but torment.”

‘Darling, that little hare spoke the truth. Don’t you think so?’

I was silent, distraught by an anxious foreboding of the loneliness
that threatened me. Olyessia suddenly raised herself and sat up in bed.
Her face grew serious at once. ‘Listen, Vanya....’ she said slowly.
‘Tell me, were you happy while you were with me? Did you feel that it
was good?’

‘Olyessia! Can you still ask?’

‘Wait.... Did you regret having met me? Were you thinking of another
woman while you were with me?’

‘Never for one single second! Not only when I was with you, but when I
was alone, I never had a thought for any one but you.’

‘Were you jealous of me? Were you ever angry with me? Were you ever
wretched when you were with me?’

‘Never, Olyessia, never!’

She put both her hands upon my shoulders, and looked into my eyes with
love indescribable.

‘Then I tell you, my darling, that you will never think evilly or
sadly of me when you remember me,’ she said with conviction, as though
she were reading the future in my eyes. ‘When we part you will be
miserable, terribly miserable.... You will cry, you will not find a
place to rest anywhere. And then everything will pass and fade away,
and you will think of me without sorrow, easily and happily.’

She let her head fall back on the pillows again and whispered in a
feeble voice:

‘Now go, my darling.... Go home, my precious.... I am a little bit
tired. No, wait ... kiss me.... Don’t be frightened of granny ... she
won’t mind. You don’t mind, do you, granny?’

‘Say good-bye. Part, as you should,’ the old woman muttered in
discontent.... ‘Why should you want to hide from me? I’ve known it a
long while.’

‘Kiss me here and here ... and here,’ Olyessia said, touching her eyes,
cheeks and mouth with her fingers.
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