have a new
ribbon to go to church in."
An
interval of silence followed. One thing,
however, struck me -- in talking to me the blind
boy spoke in the Little Russian
dialect, but now
he was expressing himself in pure Russian.
"You see, I am right!" the blind boy went on,
clapping his hands. "Yanko is not afraid of sea,
nor winds, nor mist, nor coastguards! Just
listen! That is not the water plashing, you
can't
deceive me -- it is his long oars."
The woman
sprang up and began
anxiously to
gaze into the distance.
"You are raving!" she said. "I cannot see
anything."
I
confess that, much as I tried to make out in
the distance something resembling a boat, my
efforts were
unsuccessful. About ten minutes
passed thus, when a black speck appeared between
the mountains of the waves! At one time it
grew larger, at another smaller. Slowly rising
upon the crests of the waves and
swiftly de-
sc
ending from them, the boat drew near to the
shore.
"He must be a brave sailor," I thought,
"to have determined to cross the twenty versts
of
strait on a night like this, and he must have
had a weighty reason for doing so."
Reflecting thus, I gazed with an involuntary
beating of the heart at the poor boat. It dived
like a duck, and then, with rapidly swinging oars --
like wings -- it
sprang forth from the abyss amid
the splashes of the foam. "Ah!" I thought,
"it will be dashed against the shore with all its
force and broken to pieces!" But it turned
aside adroitly and leaped unharmed into a little
creek. Out of it stepped a man of
medium height,
wearing a Tartar sheepskin cap. He waved his
hand, and all three set to work to drag something
out of the boat. The cargo was so large that, to
this day, I cannot understand how it was that the
boat did not sink.
Each of them shouldered a
bundle, and they
set off along the shore, and I soon lost sight
of them. I had to return home; but I
confessI was rendered
uneasy by all these strange
happenings, and I found it hard to await the
morning.
My Cossack was very much astonished when,
on waking up, he saw me fully dressed. I did
not, however, tell him the reason. For some time
I stood at the window, gazing admiringly at
the blue sky all studded with wisps of cloud,
and at the distant shore of the Crimea, stretching
out in a lilac-coloured
streak and
ending in a
cliff, on the
summit of which the white tower
of the
lighthouse was gleaming. Then I betook
myself to the
fortress, Phanagoriya, in order to
ascertain from the Commandant at what hour
I should depart for Gelenjik.
But the Commandant, alas! could not give
me any
definite information. The vessels lying
in the harbour were all either guard-ships or
merchant-vessels which had not yet even begun
to take in lading.
"Maybe in about three or four days' time a
mail-boat will come in," said the Commandant,
"and then we shall see."
I returned home sulky and wrathful. My
Cossack met me at the door with a frightened
countenance.
"Things are looking bad, sir!" he said.
"Yes, my friend;
goodness only knows when
we shall get away!"
Hereupon he became still more
uneasy, and,
b
ending towards me, he said in a whisper:
"It is
uncanny here! I met an under-officer
from the Black Sea to-day -- he's an acquaintance
of mine -- he was in my
detachment last year.
When I told him where we were staying, he said,
'That place is
uncanny, old fellow; they're
wicked people there!' . . . And, indeed, what
sort of a blind boy is that? He goes everywhere
alone, to fetch water and to buy bread at the
bazaar. It is
evident they have become accus-
tomed to that sort of thing here."
"Well, what then? Tell me, though, has
the
mistress of the place put in an appear-
ance?"
"During your
absence to-day, an old woman
and her daughter arrived."
"What daughter? She has no daughter!"
"Goodness knows who it can be if it isn't her
daughter; but the old woman is sitting over
there in the hut now."
I entered the hovel. A blazing fire was burning
in the stove, and they were cooking a dinner
which struck me as being a rather
luxurious one
for poor people. To all my questions the old
woman replied that she was deaf and could not
hear me. There was nothing to be got out of
her. I turned to the blind boy who was sitting
in front of the stove, putting twigs into the
fire.
"Now, then, you little blind devil," I said,
taking him by the ear. "Tell me, where were
you roaming with the
bundle last night, eh?"
The blind boy suddenly burst out weeping,
shrieking and wailing.
"Where did I go? I did not go
anywhere. . .
With the
bundle?. . . What
bundle?"
This time the old woman heard, and she began
to mutter:
"Hark at them plotting, and against a poor
boy too! What are you
touching him for?
What has he done to you?"
I had enough of it, and went out, firmly
resolved to find the key to the riddle.
I wrapped myself up in my felt cloak and,
sitting down on a rock by the fence, gazed into
the distance. Before me stretched the sea,
agitated by the storm of the
previous night, and
its
monotonous roar, like the murmur of a town
over which
slumber is
beginning to creep,
recalled bygone years to my mind, and trans-
ported my thoughts
northward to our cold
Capital. Agitated by my recollections, I became
oblivious of my surroundings.
About an hour passed thus, perhaps even
longer. Suddenly something resembling a song
struck upon my ear. It was a song, and the
voice was a woman's, young and fresh -- but,
where was it coming from?. . . I listened;
it was a
harmoniousmelody -- now long-drawn-
out and
plaintive, now swift and
lively. I looked
around me -- there was nobody to be seen. I
listened again -- the sounds seemed to be falling
from the sky. I raised my eyes. On the roof of
my cabin was
standing a young girl in a striped
dress and with her hair
hanging loose -- a regular
water-nymph. Shading her eyes from the sun's
rays with the palm of her hand, she was gazing
intently into the distance. At one time, she would
laugh and talk to herself, at another, she would
strike up her song anew.
I have retained that song in my memory,
word for word:
At their own free will
They seem to wander
O'er the green sea yonder,
Those ships, as still
They are
onward going,
With white sails flowing.
And among those ships
My eye can mark
My own dear barque:
By two oars guided
(All unprovided
With sails) it slips.
The storm-wind raves:
And the old ships -- see!
With wings spread free,
Over the waves
They scatter and flee!
The sea I will hail
With obeisance deep:
"Thou base one, hark!
Thou must not fail
My little barque
From harm to keep!"
For lo! 'tis bearing
Most precious gear,
And brave and daring
The arms that steer
Within the dark
My little barque.
Involuntarily the thought occurred to me
that I had heard the same voice the night before.
I reflected for a moment, and when I looked up
at the roof again there was no girl to be seen.
Suddenly she darted past me, with another song
on her lips, and, snapping her fingers, she ran
up to the old woman. Thereupon a quarrel
arose between them. The old woman grew
angry, and the girl laughed loudly. And then I
saw my Undine
running and gambolling again.
She came up to where I was, stopped, and gazed
fixedly into my face as if surprised at my presence.
Then she turned
carelessly away and went
quietly towards the harbour. But this was not
all. The whole day she kept hovering around
my
lodging, singing and gambolling without a
moment's
interruption. Strange creature! There
was not the slightest sign of
insanity in her face;
on the
contrary, her eyes, which were continually
resting upon me, were bright and piercing.
Moreover, they seemed to be endowed with a
certain
magnetic power, and each time they looked
at me they appeared to be expecting a question.
But I had only to open my lips to speak, and away
she would run, with a sly smile.
Certainly never before had I seen a woman