The Horse-Stealers and other stories

runkard, was returning one evening in Christmas week from the hamlet of Ryepino, where he had been to make some purcha

a violent snow-storm came on, and when he was only abou

st above the uproar of the storm he heard the far-away barking of a dog, and a murky red blur came into sight ahead of him: little by little, the outlines of a high gate could be discerned, then a long fence on which there were nails with their points uppermost, and beyond the fence there st

been lately killed by some sledge-drivers, had left a wife and a daughter called Lyubka, who had come to the hospital two years before as a patient. The inn had a bad reputation, and to visit it late in the eveni

cried. “Hey, granny! let

one—there must have been a dozen of them. Yergunov looked to see which was the biggest, swung his whip and lashed at

last the hoar-frost on the trees near the house glowed red, a

to the hospital, and I have lost my way. It’s such weather, God

vite strangers,” said the figure grimly. “And wh

o the yard and sto

take my horse out

not gr

ing out the lantern the light fell on her face, and

to the house. “Some are drunk and asleep, and some have bee

elt on it a Cossack saddle. So there must be someone else in the house besides the woman and her daughter. For greater

stolen horses where they could. He too had been to the hospital more than once, not for medical treatment, but to see the doctor about horses—to ask whether he had not one for sale, and whether his honour would not like to swop his bay mare for a dun-coloured gelding. Now his head was pomaded and a silver ear-ring glittered in his ear, and altogether he had a

l assistant, Kalas

th his open hands. “The snow is up to one’s neck; I am soaked to

it back in his knapsack. But the revolver made no impr

en for the dogs here, I do believe it would have been my death

o, and the girl is getting supper

hands, huddled up, and made a show of being very cold and exhausted

vka, don’t you?” he as

rom Bog

ding, and so narrow that when one drove down to Bogalyovka on account of some epidemic or to vaccinate the people, one had to shout at the top of one’s voice, or whistle all the way, for if one met a cart coming up one could not pass. The peasants of Bogalyovka had the reputation of being good gardeners and horse-stealers. They had well-stocked gardens. In spring the whole vi

ed sideways at Yergunov and walked twice from one end of the room to the other. She did not move simply, but with tiny steps, thrusting fo

Prophet Elijah, who, driving three horses abreast, was dashing up to the sky. Lyubka put her elbow on the table; her plait fel

onderful,” he repeated, and motioned with his hand as

ething growled and squeaked as th

spirits are abro

kov; and after a pause he raised

ion, Osip Vassilyitch—are ther

e. . . . When I finished my studies I served as medical assistant in the army in a regiment of the dragoons, and I have been in the war, of course. I have a medal and a decoration from the Red Cross, but after the treaty of San Stefano I returned to Russia and went into the service of the

asked Kal

ad a watch and all the rest of it, so I was on my guard as I drove along, for fear of some mischance. There are lots of tramps of all sorts. I came up to the Zmeinoy Ravine—damnation take it—and was just going down it, when all at once somebody comes up to me—such a fellow! Black hair, black eyes, and his wh

you?’ ‘Well, if that’s so,’ says he, ‘vaccinate me. He bared his arm and thrust it under my nose. Of course, I did not

e stranger he had met that day at Zmeinoy Ravine. This peasant’s hair, beard, and eyes were black as soot; his face was swarthy; and, to

about the smallpox you are lying, sir. And there

was dis

u,” he said. “Lie down, s

t him, he made up his mind that the man must be a gypsy. The peasant got up and, stretching and yawning loudly, went up to Lyubka and K

to him; “get me such horses

heaven,” said Kalashniko

cut up into little pieces, then a frying-pan, in which there were sausages and cabbage spluttering. A cut-glass decant

o have a little fun with Lyubka, who sat down near him half a dozen times while they were at supper, and, as though by accident, brushed against him with her handsome shoulders and passed her hands over her broad hips. She was a healthy, active girl, alw

one. But he could not refrain from taking a second glass, all the same, then a third, and he ate all the sausage. He brou

llows in Bogalyovka!” he

e fellows?” enqu

for instance. Fine f

call them. Nothing but

” said Merik, after a pause. “But now the

ame is One-eyed Filya. But he was a fine fellow! Lyuba’s father, Andrey Grigoritch, and he stole one night into Rozhnovo—there were cavalry regiments stationed there—and carried off nine of the soldiers’ horses, the very best of them. They weren’t frightened of the sentry, and in the morning they sold all the horses for twenty roubles to the gypsy Afonka. Yes! But nowadays a man

Merik?” as

man from Mizhiritch. But that he is a bold fellow, that’s

ly and gleefully

ng they dipped him i

hat?” aske

ught some new horses from the fair.’ I was interested, of course. I went up to them, and the whole lot of them, thirty men, tied my hands behind me and led me to the river. ‘We’ll show you fine horses,’ they said. One hole in the ice was there already; they cut another beside it seven feet away. Then, to be sure, they took a cord and put a noose under m

ddered and

okans stood round and hit me with sticks on my knees and my elbows. It hurt fearfully. They beat me and they went away . . . and everyt

t lighter, and he longed to tell some extraordinary, wonderful story too

pened to us in Penza Pr

sants took not the slightest notice of him, and even left off answering his questions. What was worse, they permitted themselves

ad stripped poor creatures, who had already been twice in prison, and who had been sentenced by the commune to exile in Siberia, and had been bought off by his father and uncle, who were as great thieves and rogues as he was. Merik g

Merik; the latter prayed too, and shook Kalashnikov’s hand. Lyubka cleared away the supper, shook out o

gather together here or at his brother Martin’s, and— my word! my word! what men, what talks! Remarkable conversations! Martin used to be here, a

terwards came back wearing

Kalashnikov brought

ut, first, a cotton dress with red and blue flowers on it, and then a red one with flounces which rustled and crackled like paper, then a new kerchief

est, then he bounded up as though he had been stung, clicked the heels of his boots together in the air, and began going round and round in a crouching position. Lyubka waved both her arms, uttered a desperate shriek, and followed him. At first she moved sideways, like a snake, as though she wanted to steal up to someone and strike him from behind. She tapped rapidly with her bare heels as Merik had done with the heels of his b

chest, and from there watching the dance. “What fire! Giv

efer coat and a chain with a gilt key on it instead of a blue shirt with a cord tied round the

set the crockery ringing in the cupboa

lipped off, and Lyubka was transformed into a red cloud flitting by and flashing black

nd almost breathless, Lyubka sank on to his bosom and leaned against him as against a post, and he

or you, and after that I will set fire to the inn. . . . People will think you have perished in the

t only looked at him with

nice in Kub

st, sat down, and sank into thought;

Kalashnikov, getting up. “Filya mus

e bushes, while on the other side of the fence in the open country huge giants in white robes with wide sleeves were whirling round and falling to the ground, and getting up again to wave their arms and fight. An

snowdrift. “Well, get on!” shouted Kalashnikov. His little short-legged nag set off, and sank up to its stomach

Lyubka was creeping about the floor pic

hat would happen. It was true she was only a girl, but not likely to be chaste; and even if she were—need one stand on ceremony in a den of thieves? Lyubka collected her beads and went out. The candle burnt down and the flame caught the paper in the candlestick. Yergunov laid his revolver and matches beside him, an

would carry off tha

into the room and sat down on the bench. He puffed at his pipe, and for an instant lighted up a dark

—damnation take it!” said Yerguno

f the oats,” answered Merik after a

l at once there was the gleam of a light in the passage. Merik a

said Lyubka in a

a, don’t

find mother’s money, and will do for her and for me, and will go to Kuban and lov

n . . .” said Merik

o on. . . . You came on fo

something in her ear; she looked towards

e puffed-up devil

nd went out. Yergunov thrust his revolver in

ly bolted the door of the entry and stood across the

u want to g

a look at

t him with a sly

” she said, then she bent down and touched with he

d, and giving her an angry blow on the shoulder, he pressed his chest against her with all his

exhausted; “he will go

r, which hurt, she looked up at him again, flushed a little and l

, hesitated, and put his arms

et me go,” he begged

” he said, “telling Me

. My heart knows

he key again, and said

cow, and the dogs, which rushed at him on all sides at seeing the light, but there was no trace of the horse. Shouting and waving his arms at the dogs, stumbling over the drifts and sticking in the snow, he ran out at the gate and fell to gazing into the darkness. He strained his eyes to the utmost, and saw only the snow flying and the snowflakes distinctly forming into all sorts of shape

hen, and from the kitchen into a little room where all the walls were hung with petticoats and dresses, where there was a smell of cornflowers and fennel, and a bedstead with a perfect mountain of pillows, standing in the corner by the stove; this must have bee

horse?” Yer

did n

peated still more sternly, and he tore the quilt

lutch the quilt, huddled against the wall . . . . She looked at Yergunov with repulsion and te

or I’ll knock the life out

brute!” she said

and with all his might embraced the girl. But hissing with fury, she slipped out of his arms, and

clutching at the doorposts, that he might not fall, he made his way to the room where his things were, and lay down on the bench; then after lying for a little time, took the

e sitting under a railway bridge and hearing the trains passing over his head. He got, somehow, into his coat and cap; the saddle and the bundle of h

had subsided and it was calm outside. . . . When he went out at the gate, the white plain looked dead, and there was not

he had bent down to the floor for the quilt, and how her loose hair had fallen on the floor. His mind was in a maze, and he wondered why there were in the world doctors, hospital assistants, merchants, clerks, and peasants instead of simple free men? There are, to be sure, free birds, free beasts, a free Merik, and they are not afraid of anyone, and don’t need anyone! And whose idea was it, who had decreed that one mu

e, and sank into thought; and his grey, monotonous life, his wages, his subordinate position, the di

r lived in freedom like Merik and Kalashnikov, and have never loved Lyubka; they have been beggars al

a thief, a swindler, or even a brigand, simply because he

efore been dismissed from the hospital and was hanging about without a job,

ld is created well enough, only why and with what right do people, thought Yergunov, divide their fellows into the sober and the drunken, the employed and the dismissed, and so on. Why do the sober and well fed sleep comfortably in their homes while the drunken and the hungry must wand

topped, and for a long time he gazed at it, and kept wondering why was it that if he had carried off so

of them there was a woman asleep, in th

ere is that fire

ov’s inn,” answ

gined the old woman and Lyubka, with their throats cut, burning, and he envied Merik. And when he walked back to the tavern, looking at the