"'''I won't come, and I won't listen!
Black the night—no moon in Heaven!
Swift the stream—no bridge, no ferry!
Dark the wood—no guards!'' 242
"'The fir tree on the mountain stands,
The little cottage at its foot,
And Máshenka is there.
Young Peter comes to look for her,
He wakens her, and coaxes her:
''Oh, Máshenka, come home with me!
My little dove, Efeémovna,
Come home, my dear, with me.'' 250
"'''I will come, and I will listen,
Fair the night—the moon in Heaven,
Calm the stream with bridge and ferry,
In the wood strong guards.'''"
CHAPTER VII
THE GOVERNOR'S LADY
"I'm hurrying blindly,
I've run through the village;
Yet strangely the singing
From Domina's cottage
Pursues me and rings
In my ears. My pace slackens,
I rest for awhile,
And look back at the village:
I see the white snowdrift
O'er valley and meadow, 10
The moon in the Heavens,
My self, and my shadow….
"I do not feel frightened;
A flutter of gladness
Awakes in my bosom,
'You brisk winter breezes,
My thanks for your freshness!
I crave for your breath
As the sick man for water.'
My mind has grown clear, 20
To my knees I am falling:
'O Mother of Christ!
I beseech Thee to tell me
Why God is so angry
With me. Holy Mother!
No tiniest bone
In my limbs is unbroken;
No nerve in my body
Uncrushed. I am patient,—
I have not complained. 30
All the strength that God gave me
I've spent on my work;
All the love on my children.
But Thou seest all things,
And Thou art so mighty;
Oh, succour thy slave!'
"I love now to pray
On a night clear and frosty;
To kneel on the earth
'Neath the stars in the winter. 40
Remember, my brothers,
If trouble befall you,
To counsel your women
To pray in that manner;
In no other place
Can one pray so devoutly,
At no other season….
"I prayed and grew stronger;
I bowed my hot head
To the cool snowy napkin, 50
And quickly my fever
Was spent. And when later
I looked at the roadway
I found that I knew it;
I'd passed it before
On the mild summer evenings;
At morning I'd greeted
The sunrise upon it
In haste to be off
To the fair. And I walked now 60
The whole of the night
Without meeting a soul….
But now to the cities
The sledges are starting,
Piled high with the hay
Of the peasants. I watch them,
And pity the horses:
Their lawful provision
Themselves they are dragging
Away from the courtyard; 70
And afterwards they
Will be hungry. I pondered:
The horses that work
Must eat straw, while the idlers
Are fed upon oats.
But when Need comes he hastens
To empty your corn-lofts,
Won't wait to be asked….
"I come within sight
Of the town. On the outskirts 80
The merchants are cheating
And wheedling the peasants,
There's shouting and swearing,
Abusing and coaxing.