"'The fir tree on the mountain stands, The little cottage at its foot, And Mashenka is there.

Young Peter comes to look for her, He wakens her, and coaxes her: ''Oh, Mashenka, come home with me!

My little dove, Efeemovna, 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 G.o.d 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 G.o.d 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 pa.s.sed 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.

"I enter the town As the bell rings for matins.

I make for the market Before the cathedral.

I know that the gates Of the Governor's courtyard 90 Are there. It is dark still, The square is quite empty; In front of the courtyard A sentinel paces: 'Pray tell me, good man, Does the Governor rise early?'

"'Don't know. Go away.

I'm forbidden to chatter.'

(I give him some farthings.) 'Well, go to the porter; 100 He knows all about it.'

"'Where is he? And what Is his name, little sentry?'

"'Makhar Fedosseich, He stands at the entrance.'

I walk to the entrance, The doors are not opened.

I sit on the doorsteps And think....

"It grows lighter, 110 A man with a ladder Is turning the lamps down.

"'Heh, what are you doing?

And how did you enter?'

"I start in confusion, I see in the doorway A bald-headed man In a bed-gown. Then quickly I come to my senses, And bowing before him 120 (Makhar Fedosseich), I give him a rouble.

"'I come in great need To the Governor, and see him I must, little Uncle!'

"'You can't see him, woman.

Well, well.... I'll consider....

Return in two hours.'

"I see in the market A pedestal standing, 130 A peasant upon it, He's just like Savyeli, And all made of bra.s.s: It's Susanin's memorial.

While crossing the market I'm suddenly startled-- A heavy grey drake From a cook is escaping; The fellow pursues With a knife. It is shrieking. 140 My G.o.d, what a sound!

To the soul it has pierced me.

('Tis only the knife That can wring such a shriek.) The cook has now caught it; It stretches its neck, Begins angrily hissing, As if it would frighten The cook,--the poor creature!

I run from the market, 150 I'm trembling and thinking, 'The drake will grow calm 'Neath the kiss of the knife!'

"The Governor's dwelling Again is before me, With balconies, turrets, And steps which are covered With beautiful carpets.

I gaze at the windows All shaded with curtains. 160 'Now, which is your chamber,'

I think, 'my desired one?

Say, do you sleep sweetly?

Of what are you dreaming?'

I creep up the doorsteps, And keep to the side Not to tread on the carpets; And there, near the entrance, I wait for the porter.

"'You're early, my gossip!' 170 Again I am startled: A stranger I see,-- For at first I don't know him; A livery richly Embroidered he wears now; He holds a fine staff; He's not bald any longer!

He laughs--'You were frightened?'

"'I'm tired, little Uncle.'

"'You've plenty of courage, 180 G.o.d's mercy be yours!

Come, give me another, And I will befriend you.'

"(I give him a rouble.) 'Now come, I will make you Some tea in my office.'

"His den is just under The stairs. There's a bedstead, A little iron stove, And a candlestick in it, 190 A big samovar, And a lamp in the corner.

Some pictures are hung On the wall. 'That's His Highness,'

The porter remarks, And he points with his finger.

I look at the picture: A warrior covered With stars. 'Is he gentle?'

"'That's just as you happen 200 To find him. Why, neighbour, The same is with me: To-day I'm obliging, At times I'm as cross As a dog.'

"'You are dull here, Perhaps, little Uncle?'

"'Oh no, I'm not dull; I've a task that's exciting: Ten years have I fought 210 With a foe: Sleep his name is.

And I can a.s.sure you That when I have taken An odd cup of vodka, The stove is red hot, And the s.m.u.ts from the candle Have blackened the air, It's a desperate struggle!'

"There's somebody knocking.

Makhar has gone out; 220 I am sitting alone now.

I go to the door And look out. In the courtyard A carriage is waiting.

I ask, 'Is he coming?'

'The lady is coming,'

The porter makes answer, And hurries away To the foot of the staircase.

A lady descends, 230 Wrapped in costliest sables, A lackey behind her.