Sasha the serf, and other stories of Russian life

by Anonymous

Gregor's words seemed harsh and fierce, but his voice was very sad. The boy looked at him and knew not what to say, but his heart beat violently. All at once he heard a rustle among the dead leaves, and a sound as if of footsteps approaching. The old man took hold of his grandson's arm, and made a sign for him to be silent. The sound came nearer and nearer, and presently they could distinguish some dusky object moving towards them through the trees.

"Is it a robber?" whispered the boy.

"It is not a man, unless he uses his knees for hind feet. I see his head; it is a bear. Keep quiet, boy! make no noise: take this stick, but hold it at your side as I do mine. If he comes close, look him firmly in the face; and if I tell you to strike, hit him on the end of the nose."

It was indeed a full-grown bear, marching slowly on his great flat feet. He was not more than thirty yards distant when he saw them, and stopped. Both kept their eyes fixed upon his head, but did not move. Then he came a few paces nearer, and Sasha tried hard not to show that he was trembling inwardly, more, however, from excitement than fear. The bear gazed steadily at them for what seemed a long time, and there was an expression of anger, but also of stupid bewilderment, in his eyes. Finally he gave a sniff and a grunt, tossed up his nose, and walked slowly on, stopping once or twice to turn and look back before he disappeared from view. Sasha lifted his stick and shook it at him. He felt that he should never again be much afraid of bears.

"Now, boy," said his grandfather, "you have learned how to face danger. I have been as near to a loaded cannon as to that bear, and the wind of the ball threw me upon my face: but I was up the next moment, and then the gunner went down! Our colonel saw it, and I remember what he said—ay, every word! He would have kept his promise, but we carried him from the field next day, and that was the end of the matter. It was in France that it happened."

"Grandfather," asked the boy suddenly, "are there forests in France, and do they belong to barons?"

"Pick up your faggot, boy, and come along!" said Gregor. "It will be dark before we get to the village, and the potatoes are cooked by this time."

The mention of the potatoes revived all Sasha's forgotten hunger, and he obeyed in silence. After walking for a mile as rapidly as their loads would permit them, they issued from the forest, and saw the wooden houses of the village on a green knoll, in the last gleams of sunset. The church, with its three little copper-covered domes, stood on the highest point. Next to it the priest's house and garden, and then began the broad street, lined with square log-cabins and adjoining stables, sloping down to a large pond, at the foot of which was a mill. Beyond the water there was a great stretch of grazing meadow, then long rolling fields of rye and barley, extending to the woods which bounded the view in every direction. The village was situated within a few miles of the great main highway running from Warsaw to Moscow, and the waters of the lake fed the stream which flowed into one of the branches of the river Dnieper.

The whole region, including the village and nearly all the people in it, belonged to the estate of Baron Popoff, the roofs of whose residence were just visible to the southward, on a hill overlooking the road to Moscow. The former castle had been entirely destroyed during the retreat of Bonaparte's army, and the baron's grandfather suffered so many losses at the time, that he was only able to build a large and very plain modern house; but the people continued to call it the "Castle" or "Palace," just as before.

Although the baron sold every year great quantities of timber, grain, hemp and wool from his estates, he always seemed to be in want of money. The servants who went with him every year to St. Petersburg were very discreet, and said little about their master's habits of life; but the people understood, somehow, that he often lost large sums by gambling. This gave them a good deal of uneasiness, for if he should be obliged to part with the estate, they would all be transferred with it to a new owner—and this might be one who had other estates in a different part of the country, to which he could send them if he was so minded.