The Cossacks (18 page)

“Well, go ahead and respect them,
mon cher
, who’s stopping you?”

Olenin remained silent. It was clear that he wanted to finish what he was saying, as the matter lay close to his heart. “I know that I’m an exception,” he said with obvious embarrassment. “But the way I am living now, I see no reason to change my rules. I could not live here, let alone live as happily as I do, if I lived like you. So I am seeking something very different in these women.”

Beletsky raised his eyebrows in disbelief. “Be that as it may, I still hope you will come over this evening. Maryanka will be there, and I will introduce you. You must come. If you are bored, you can always leave. Will you come?”

“I would, but to tell you the truth I’m worried that I might be swayed in my resolve.”

“Ho ho ho!” Beletsky shouted. “If you come, I will see to it that you won’t be swayed. You will come, won’t you? You’ll give me your word?”

“I would come, but to be honest—I’m not at all sure what we’re supposed to do there, or what role we are to play.”

“Please! You must come!”

“Well, perhaps I will,” Olenin said.

“Why do you want to live the life of a monk when there are such splendid women here, women the likes of which you won’t find anywhere else in the world? It’s simply unbelievable! Why waste your life and not put to good use what’s at hand? By the way, have you heard that our company is to head out to Vozdvizhesnkaya?”

“Not from what I hear. I was told that the Eighth Company was going to go,” Olenin replied.

“No, I received a letter from the adjutant. He writes that the commander himself is intending to march in the campaign. I’m looking forward to seeing him again. I admit, this place is beginning to bore me a little.”

“I heard that we’ll be launching an attack soon,” Olenin said.

“I haven’t heard anything. What I heard was that Krinovitsin got a St. Anna Medal for a sortie. He was expecting to be made lieutenant,” Beletsky said, laughing. “What a disappointment, no? He marched straight over to headquarters to complain.”

Twilight was approaching, and Olenin began thinking about the party. The invitation was tormenting him. He wanted to go, but he found it strange and a little frightening to imagine what it would be like. He knew that none of the Cossack men or any of the old women would be there—only the girls. How would it be? How was he to comport himself? What was he to say to them, and what would they say to him? What rapport could there be between him and those wild Cossack girls? Beletsky had told him of the strange relationship, cynical and yet strict, that he had with them. Olenin felt uncomfortable about being in the same room with Maryanka, and perhaps even having to talk with her. But the idea seemed impossible when he remembered her regal bearing. And yet Beletsky kept emphasizing how simple it would be. “Is it possible that Beletsky treats Maryanka with the same familiarity as he does the other girls?” Olenin wondered. “Very interesting. No, it’s better if I don’t go. Oh, this is all so horrible and vulgar, so pointless!” The question of what would happen at the party kept tormenting him, though he felt he had to go since he had already given his word. He left the house without having decided what he was going to do, but then headed over to Beletsky’s.

The house in which Beletsky lived was very much like Olenin’s. It stood on posts about three feet off the ground and had two rooms. In the front room, into which Olenin climbed up a steep ladder, lay featherbeds, carpets, blankets, and pillows attractively arranged in the Cossack manner along the wall facing the door. On the side walls brass pans and weapons hung. Watermelons and pumpkins lay under the bench. In the second room there was a large stove, a table, benches, and Old Believer icons. This was where Beletsky was quartered, with his camp bed, his bags, and his weapons that were hanging on a wall carpet. His toiletries and miniature portraits were arranged on a table, and his silk dressing gown lay discarded on the bench. Beletsky, fresh and handsome, was lying on the bed in his undergarments reading
Les Trois Mousquetaires
.

“What do you think? Haven’t I settled in nicely here?” he said, jumping up. “Marvelous, no? I’m glad you came! The girls are working up a storm. Do you know how they make their pies? Dough with a filling
of pork and grapes! But that’s not all—look at the commotion out there!” Through the window they saw bustling in the landlady’s house, the girls running in and out carrying all kinds of things.

“Are you ready yet?” Beletsky called out to them.

“Almost! Are you hungry, Grandpa?” And peals of laughter came from inside the house.

Pretty Ustenka, plump and flushed, came hurrying with rolled-up sleeves into Beletsky’s room to collect the plates. “Get away from me, you’ll make me drop everything!” she squealed at Beletsky, and then, turning to Olenin, she laughed and called out, “Don’t just stand there, come and pitch in! Go get some nice sweets for us girls!”

“Is Maryanka here yet?” Beletsky asked.

“Of course! She’s the one who brought the dough,” Ustenka said, hurrying out the door.

“You know, if one were to dress Ustenka, clean her up and prune her a little, she’d be better than all our beauties back home,” Beletsky said to Olenin. “Have you seen the Cossack woman Borshcheva, who married the colonel? Amazing, the
dignité
that woman has! One wonders where they get it!”

“I haven’t met the colonel’s wife, but if you ask me, I prefer the way the Cossack women dress.”

“Well, I am the sort of man who takes to any way of life!” Beletsky said with a cheerful sigh. “I’m off to see what the girls are up to.” He threw on his dressing gown and hurried out. “Don’t forget to see to the sweets!” he shouted.

Olenin called in Beletsky’s orderly and told him to go get some spice cakes and honey. Olenin handed him the money but suddenly felt the action was vile, as if he were somehow trying to bribe him, and he didn’t know what to say when the orderly asked him how many spice cakes and how much honey he was to get.

“Um … yes … as much as you like,” Olenin quickly said.

“Shall I spend all the money?” the old soldier asked, eager to serve. “There are mint spice cakes and honey spice cakes, but the mint ones are more expensive. They sell them for sixteen!”

“Yes, yes, spend it all,” Olenin said and sat down by the window, surprised that his heart was pounding as if he were bracing himself for
something dire. He saw Beletsky enter Ustenka’s house, heard squeals and shouts from the girls inside, and a few moments later saw Beletsky come jumping down the ladder, followed by more squeals, shouts, and laughter.

“They chased me out!” he told Olenin.

A few minutes later Ustenka came over and solemnly invited the two men to the party, announcing that everything was ready. As they entered her house they saw that everything was indeed ready. She had arranged all the pillows neatly along the wall, and a disproportionately small piece of cloth lay on the table, on which stood a carafe of Chikhir and a plate of dried fish. The whole house smelled of dough and grapes. Six or seven girls in their best quilted coats, their heads uncovered, stood huddled in the corner behind the stove, whispering and tittering.

“I beg you to do homage to my patron saint, St. Ustinya,” Ustenka said, motioning her guests to the table.

Olenin saw Maryanka among the girls, all of whom were beautiful without exception, and he felt sad and vexed that he was meeting her under such awkward and tasteless circumstances. He felt foolish and ill at ease, and decided to follow Beletsky’s example and do as he did. Beletsky walked over to the table with an air of easy solemnity and elegantly drank a glass of wine to Ustenka’s health, bidding the others do the same. Ustenka declared that the girls did not drink.

“But we might drink if you mix some honey into the wine,” one of the girls said.

The orderly, who had just returned from the store with honey and cakes, was called in. He glared at the two carousing gentlemen with a mix of envy and contempt, and carefully handed them the spice cakes and a chunk of honey wrapped in paper. He began to explain the price of everything and to count out the change, but Beletsky waved him away.

Beletsky filled the glasses with Chikhir, mixed in some honey, and arranged the spice cakes on the table. He then dragged the girls one by one from their corner, sat them at the table, and began dividing the cakes among them. Olenin noticed Maryanka’s small, suntanned hand take two round mint cakes and one brownish one, uncertain what to
do with them. The conversation was awkward and unpleasant, in spite of Ustenka’s and Beletsky’s ease and their attempts at livening up the company. Olenin kept falling silent and tried hard to think of something to say. He felt that he was drawing attention to himself, perhaps even provoking ridicule and infecting the others with his unease. He blushed. He sensed that he made Maryanka feel particularly uneasy. “I’m sure they must be expecting us to give them money!” he thought. “But what would the best way to do that be, and what is the quickest and easiest way out of here?”

“How is it possible that all this time you haven’t met your own lodger?” Beletsky asked Maryanka.

“How can I meet him if he never comes over to see us?” Maryanka replied, glancing at Olenin.

Olenin was suddenly gripped by fear. His face flushed and, not knowing what he was saying, he spluttered, “I’m frightened of your mother … she gave me such a scolding the first time I came to your house.”

“And so that frightened you off?” Maryanka asked, looking at him and then turning away.

It was the first time Olenin actually saw her face, for it had always been covered by a kerchief. It was not surprising that Maryanka was considered the most beautiful girl in the village. Ustenka was pretty enough: small and plump, with rosy cheeks, cheerful brown eyes, and a perpetual smile on red lips that were always laughing and chattering. Maryanka was not pretty—she was beautiful. And yet her features might almost have been considered a little too masculine, even coarse, were it not for her fine figure, her shapely breasts and shoulders, her severe yet tender black eyes with their dark eyebrows, and the gentle expression of her mouth as she smiled. She rarely smiled, but when she did, it was striking. She exuded strength and health. All the girls were pretty, but everyone in the room—the other girls, Beletsky, even the orderly who brought the cakes and honey—only had eyes for
Maryanka. It was as if every word spoken was spoken to her. She stood among them like a czarina.

Beletsky tried to keep the spirit of the party going, fussing and chatting away, having the girls pass the Chikhir around, and repeatedly making improper remarks in French to Olenin about Maryanka’s beauty. He called her “la vôtre,” and urged Olenin to follow his example with the girls. Olenin felt increasingly morose. He was trying to think up an excuse to escape when Beletsky proclaimed that, as it was Ustenka’s name day, she had to offer them a glass of Chikhir followed by a kiss. She agreed, but on condition that a gift of money would be placed on her plate, the way it was done at weddings.

“The Devil brought me to this disgusting revelry!” Olenin muttered to himself and got up to leave.

“Where are you off to?”

“I want to get some tobacco,” he replied, intending to escape, but Beletsky seized him by the arm.

“I have money,” Beletsky said in French.

Olenin was very angry at his own awkwardness. “I see you can’t leave this place without paying,” he thought bitterly. “Why can’t I simply do as Beletsky is doing? I should never have come here, but now that I’m here I shouldn’t ruin their fun. I must drink as a Cossack would!” He picked up a wooden bowl that held a good eight glasses of wine, filled it with Chikhir, and drank it down. The girls watched this unseemly action in horror and disbelief. Ustenka brought him and Beletsky another glass of Chikhir and gave each a kiss.

“So, girls, we’re going to have some fun,” she called out, jingling the four coins the men had put on her plate.

Olenin no longer felt awkward and became quite talkative.

“It’s your turn, Maryanka!” Beletsky said, taking hold of her arm. “We want a glass of wine and a kiss!”

“This is the kind of kiss you’ll get from me!” she said brightly, raising her hand as if to strike him.

“You can kiss Grandpa without him having to give you a coin!” another girl bantered.

“What a good idea!” Beletsky said and gave Maryanka a kiss as she struggled to get away. “No, you must offer your lodger a glass!” He
seized her by the arm, led her to the bench where Olenin sat, and made her sit down next to him.

“What a beautiful girl!” Beletsky said, touching her cheek and turning her head into profile. Maryanka did not resist and gazed at Olenin with a proud smile.

“What a beauty!” Beletsky repeated.

“Yes, I am a beauty!” her eyes seemed to say. Olenin, forgetting himself, threw his arms around her and leaned forward to kiss her. But she tore herself away, pushing Beletsky over and capsizing the table as she rushed toward the stove. There were shouts and laughter. Beletsky whispered something to the girls, and he and they quickly ran out of the room, locking the door behind them.

“Why will you kiss Beletsky but not me?” Olenin asked Maryanka. “Don’t you like me?”

“I just don’t want to kiss you, that’s all,” she replied, biting her lip with a frown. “Beletsky’s our grandpa,” she added with a smile. She went to the door and began banging on it. “Why did you lock the door, you devils?”

“Let them stay outside!” Olenin said, approaching her.

She scowled and roughly pushed him away. Again he was struck by her beauty and her regal bearing. Suddenly he came to his senses and was ashamed at his behavior. He went to the door and began to tug at it. “Beletsky! Unlock the door! This foolishness really won’t do!”

Maryanka broke into bright, happy laughter. “So you
are
frightened of me!” she said.

“Of course I am! You’re just like your mother when you get angry!”

“You should spend more time with Eroshka—then all the girls will fall in love with you.” She smiled and looked him straight in the eyes, her face close to his.