Part 3 — CHAPTER V

THE SHE-WOLF

"'Tis twenty years now Since my Djoma was taken, Was carried to sleep 'Neath his little grass blanket; And still my heart bleeds, And I pray for him always, No apple till Spassa[53] I touch with my lips….

"For long I lay ill, Not a word did I utter, 10 My eyes could not suffer The old man, Savyeli. No work did I do, And my Father-in-law thought To give me a lesson And took down the horse-reins; I bowed to his feet, And cried—'Kill me! Oh, kill me! I pray for the end!' He hung the reins up, then. 20 I lived day and night On the grave of my Djoma, I dusted it clean With a soft little napkin That grass might grow green, And I prayed for my lost one. I yearned for my parents: 'Oh, you have forgotten, Forgotten your daughter!'

"'We have not forgotten 30 Our poor little daughter, But is it worth while, say, To wear the grey horse out By such a long journey To learn about your woes, To tell you of ours? Since long, little daughter, Would father and mother Have journeyed to see you, But ever the thought rose: 40 She'll weep at our coming, She'll shriek when we leave!'

"In winter came Philip, Our sorrow together We shared, and together We fought with our grief In the grandfather's hut."

"The grandfather died, then?"

"Oh, no, in his cottage For seven whole days 50 He lay still without speaking, And then he got up And he went to the forest; And there old Savyeli So wept and lamented, The woods were set throbbing. In autumn he left us And went as a pilgrim On foot to do penance At some distant convent…. 60

"I went with my husband To visit my parents, And then began working Again. Three years followed, Each week like the other, As twin to twin brother, And each year a child. There was no time for thinking And no time for grieving; Praise God if you have time 70 For getting your work done And crossing your forehead. You eat—when there's something Left over at table, When elders have eaten, When children have eaten; You sleep—when you're ill….

"In the fourth year came sorrow Again; for when sorrow Once lightens upon you 80 To death he pursues you; He circles before you— A bright shining falcon; He hovers behind you— An ugly black raven; He flies in advance— But he will not forsake you; He lingers behind— But he will not forget….

"I lost my dear parents. 90 The dark nights alone knew The grief of the orphan; No need is there, brothers, To tell you about it. With tears did I water The grave of my baby. From far once I noticed A wooden cross standing Erect at its head, And a little gilt icon; 100 A figure is kneeling Before it—'Savyeli! From whence have you come?'

"'I have come from Pesotchna. I've prayed for the soul Of our dear little Djoma; I've prayed for the peasants Of Russia…. Matrona, Once more do I pray— Oh, Matrona … Matrona…. 110 I pray that the heart Of the mother, at last, May be softened towards me…. Forgive me, Matrona!'

"'Oh, long, long ago I forgave you, Savyeli.'

"'Then look at me now As in old times, Matrona!'

"I looked as of old. Then up rose Savyeli, 120 And gazed in my eyes; He was trying to straighten His stiffened old back; Like the snow was his hair now. I kissed the old man, And my new grief I told him; For long we sat weeping And mourning together. He did not live long After that. In the autumn 130 A deep wound appeared In his neck, and he sickened. He died very hard. For a hundred days, fully, No food passed his lips; To the bone he was shrunken. He laughed at himself: 'Tell me, truly, Matrona, Now am I not like A Korojin mosquito?' 140

"At times the old man Would be gentle and patient; At times he was angry And nothing would please him; He frightened us all By his outbursts of fury: 'Eh, plough not, and sow not, You downtrodden peasants! You women, sit spinning And weaving no longer! 150 However you struggle, You fools, you must perish! You will not escape What by fate has been written! Three roads are spread out For the peasant to follow— They lead to the tavern, The mines, and the prison! Three nooses are hung For the women of Russia: 160 The one is of white silk, The second of red silk, The third is of black silk— Choose that which you please!' And Grandfather laughed In a manner which caused us To tremble with fear And draw nearer together…. He died in the night, And we did as he asked us: 170 We laid him to rest In the grave beside Djoma. The Grandfather lived To a hundred and seven….

"Four years passed away then, The one like the other, And I was submissive, The slave of the household, For Mother-in-law And her husband the drunkard, 180 For Sister-in-law By all suitors rejected. I'd draw off their boots— Only,—touch not my children! For them I stood firm Like a rock. Once it happened A pilgrim arrived At our village—a holy And pious-tongued woman; She spoke to the people 190 Of how to please God And of how to reach Heaven. She said that on fast-days No woman should offer The breast to her child. The women obeyed her: On Wednesdays and Fridays The village was filled By the wailing of babies; And many a mother 200 Sat bitterly weeping To hear her child cry For its food—full of pity, But fearing God's anger. But I did not listen! I said to myself That if penance were needful The mothers must suffer, But not little children. I said, 'I am guilty, 210 My God—not my children!'

"It seems God was angry And punished me for it Through my little son; My Father-in-law To the commune had offered My little Fedotka As help to the shepherd When he was turned eight…. One night I was waiting 220 To give him his supper; The cattle already Were home, but he came not. I went through the village And saw that the people Were gathered together And talking of something. I listened, then elbowed My way through the people; Fedotka was set 230 In their midst, pale and trembling, The Elder was gripping His ear. 'What has happened? And why do you hold him?' I said to the Elder.

"'I'm going to beat him,— He threw a young lamb To the wolf,' he replied.

"I snatched my Fedotka Away from their clutches; 240 And somehow the Elder Fell down on the ground!

"The story was strange: It appears that the shepherd Went home for awhile, Leaving little Fedotka In charge of the flock. 'I was sitting,' he told me, 'Alone on the hillside, When all of a sudden 250 A wolf ran close by me And picked Masha's lamb up. I threw myself at her, I whistled and shouted, I cracked with my whip, Blew my horn for Valetka, And then I gave chase. I run fast, little Mother, But still I could never Have followed the robber 260 If not for the traces She left; because, Mother, Her breasts hung so low (She was suckling her children) They dragged on the earth And left two tracks of blood. But further the grey one Went slower and slower; And then she looked back And she saw I was coming. 270 At last she sat down. With my whip then I lashed her; ''Come, give me the lamb, You grey devil!'' She crouched, But would not give it up. I said—''I must save it Although she should kill me.'' I threw myself on her And snatched it away, But she did not attack me. 280 The lamb was quite dead, She herself was scarce living. She gnashed with her teeth And her breathing was heavy; And two streams of blood ran From under her body. Her ribs could be counted, Her head was hung down, But her eyes, little Mother, Looked straight into mine … 290 Then she groaned of a sudden, She groaned, and it sounded As if she were crying. I threw her the lamb….'

"Well, that was the story. And foolish Fedotka Ran back to the village And told them about it. And they, in their anger, Were going to beat him 300 When I came upon them. The Elder, because Of his fall, was indignant, He shouted—'How dare you! Do you want a beating Yourself?' And the woman Whose lamb had been stolen Cried, 'Whip the lad soundly, 'Twill teach him a lesson!' Fedotka she pulled from 310 My arms, and he trembled, He shook like a leaf.

"Then the horns of the huntsmen Were heard,—the Pomyeshchick Returning from hunting. I ran to him, crying, 'Oh, save us! Protect us!'

"'What's wrong? Call the Elder!' And then, in an instant, The matter is settled: 320 'The shepherd is tiny— His youth and his folly May well be forgiven. The woman's presumption You'll punish severely!'

"'Oh, Barin, God bless you!' I danced with delight! 'Fedotka is safe now! Run home, quick, Fedotka.'

"'Your will shall be done, sir,' 330 The Elder said, bowing; 'Now, woman, prepare; You can dance later on!'

"A gossip then whispered, 'Fall down at the feet Of the Elder—beg mercy!'

"'Fedotka—go home!'

"Then I kissed him, and told him: 'Remember, Fedotka, That I shall be angry 340 If once you look backwards. Run home!'

"Well, my brothers, To leave out a word Of the song is to spoil it,— I lay on the ground…."

* * * * *

"I crawled like a cat To Fedotushka's corner That night. He was sleeping, He tossed in his dream. 350 One hand was hung down, While the other, clenched tightly, Was shielding his eyes: 'You've been crying, my treasure; Sleep, darling, it's nothing— See, Mother is near!' I'd lost little Djoma While heavy with this one; He was but a weakling, But grew very clever. 360 He works with his dad now, And built such a chimney With him, for his master, The like of it never Was seen. Well, I sat there The whole of the night By the sweet little shepherd. At daybreak I crossed him, I fastened his laputs, I gave him his wallet, 370 His horn and his whip. The rest began stirring, But nothing I told them Of all that had happened, But that day I stayed From the work in the fields.

"I went to the banks Of the swift little river, I sought for a spot Which was silent and lonely 380 Amid the green rushes That grow by the bank.

"And on the grey stone I sat down, sick and weary, And leaning my head On my hands, I lamented, Poor sorrowing orphan. And loudly I called On the names of my parents: 'Oh, come, little Father, 390 My tender protector! Oh, look at the daughter You cherished and loved!'

"In vain do I call him! The loved one has left me; The guest without lord, Without race, without kindred, Named Death, has appeared, And has called him away.

"And wildly I summon 400 My mother, my mother! The boisterous wind cries, The distant hills answer, But mother is dead, She can hear me no longer!

"You grieved day and night, And you prayed for me always, But never, beloved, Shall I see you again; You cannot turn back now, 410 And I may not follow.

"A pathway so strange, So unknown, you have chosen, The beasts cannot find it, The winds cannot reach it, My voice will be lost In the terrible distance….

"My loving protectors, If you could but see me! Could know what your daughter 420 Must suffer without you! Could learn of the people To whom you have left her!

"By night bathed in tears, And by day weak and trembling, I bow like the grass To the wind, but in secret A heart full of fury Is gnawing my breast!"