Leo Tolstoy: Leo Tolstoy: The Complete Novels and Novellas

The song came to an end. Lukashka wiped his lips, Maryanka did the same, and they kissed. “No, no, kisses five!” said Lukashka. Chatter, laughter, and running about, succeeded to the rhythmic movements and sound. Lukashka, who seemed to have drunk a great deal, began to distribute sweetmeats to the girls.

“I offer them to everyone!” he said with proud, comically pathetic self-admiration. “But anyone who goes after soldiers goes out of the ring!” he suddenly added, with an angry glance at Olenin.

The girls grabbed his sweetmeats from him, and, laughing, struggled for them among themselves. Beletski and Olenin stepped aside.

Lukashka, as if ashamed of his generosity, took off his cap and wiping his forehead with his sleeve came up to Maryanka and Ustenka.

“Answer me, my dear, dost thou hold me in contempt?” he said in the words of the song they had just been singing, and turning to Maryanka he angrily repeated the words: “Dost thou hold me in contempt? When we shall married be thou wilt weep because of me!” he added, embracing Ustenka and Maryanka both together.

Ustenka tore herself away, and swinging her arm gave him such a blow on the back that she hurt her hand.

“Well, are you going to have another turn?” he asked.

“The other girls may if they like,” answered Ustenka, “but I am going home and Maryanka was coming to our house too.”

With his arm still round her, Lukashka led Maryanka away from the crowd to the darker comer of a house.

“Don’t go, Maryanka,” he said, “let’s have some fun for the last time. Go home and I will come to you!”

“What am I to do at home? Holidays are meant for merrymaking. I am going to Ustenka’s,” replied Maryanka.

‘I’ll marry you all the same, you know!’

‘All right,’ said Maryanka, ‘we shall see when the time comes.’

‘So you are going,’ said Lukashka sternly, and, pressing her close, he kissed her on the cheek.

‘There, leave off! Don’t bother,’ and Maryanka, wrenching herself from his arms, moved away.

‘Ah my girl, it will turn out badly,’ said Lukashka reproachfully and stood still, shaking his head. ‘Thou wilt weep because of me...’ and turning away from her he shouted to the other girls:

‘Now then! Play away!’

What he had said seemed to have frightened and vexed Maryanka. She stopped, ‘What will turn out badly?’

‘Why, that!’

‘That what?’

‘Why, that you keep company with a soldier-lodger and no longer care for me!’

‘I’ll care just as long as I choose. You’re not my father, nor my mother. What do you want? I’ll care for whom I like!’

‘Well, all right...’ said Lukashka, ‘but remember!’ He moved towards the shop. ‘Girls!’ he shouted, ‘why have you stopped? Go on dancing. Nazarka, fetch some more chikhir.’

‘Well, will they come?’ asked Olenin, addressing Beletski.

‘They’ll come directly,’ replied Beletski. ‘Come along, we must prepare the ball.’

It was already late in the night when Olenin came out of Beletski’s hut following Maryanka and Ustenka. He saw in the dark street before him the gleam of the girl’s white kerchief. The golden moon was descending towards the steppe. A silvery mist hung over the village. All was still; there were no lights anywhere and one heard only the receding footsteps of the young women. Olenin’s heart beat fast. The fresh moist atmosphere cooled his burning face. He glanced at the sky and turned to look at the hut he had just come out of: the candle was already out. Then he again peered through the darkness at the girls’ retreating shadows. The white kerchief disappeared in the mist. He was afraid to remain alone, he was so happy. He jumped down from the porch and ran after the girls.

‘Bother you, someone may see...’ said Ustenka.

‘Never mind!’

Olenin ran up to Maryanka and embraced her.

Maryanka did not resist.

‘Haven’t you kissed enough yet?’ said Ustenka. ‘Marry and then kiss, but now you’d better wait.’

‘Good-night, Maryanka. To-morrow I will come to see your father and tell him. Don’t you say anything.’

‘Why should I!’ answered Maryanka.

Both the girls started running. Olenin went on by himself thinking over all that had happened. He had spent the whole evening alone with her in a corner by the oven. Ustenka had not left the hut for a single moment, but had romped about with the other girls and with Beletski all the time. Olenin had talked in whispers to Maryanka.

‘Will you marry me?’ he had asked.

‘You’d deceive me and not have me,’ she replied cheerfully and calmly.

‘But do you love me? Tell me for God’s sake!’

‘Why shouldn’t I love you? You don’t squint,’ answered Maryanka, laughing and with her hard hands squeezing his...

‘What whi-ite, whi-i-ite, soft hands you’ve got — so like clotted cream,’ she said.

‘I am in earnest. Tell me, will you marry me?’

‘Why not, if father gives me to you?’

‘Well then remember, I shall go mad if you deceive me. To-morrow I will tell your mother and father. I shall come and propose.’

Maryanka suddenly burst out laughing.

‘What’s the matter?’

‘It seems so funny!’

‘It’s true! I will buy a vineyard and a house and will enroll myself as a Cossack.’

‘Mind you don’t go after other women then. I am severe about that.’

Olenin joyfully repeated all these words to himself. The memory of them now gave him pain and now such joy that it took away his breath. The pain was because she had remained as calm as usual while talking to him. She did not seem at all agitated by these new conditions. It was as if she did not trust him and did not think of the future. It seemed to him that she only loved him for the present moment, and that in her mind there was no future with him. He was happy because her words sounded to him true, and she had consented to be his. ‘Yes,’ thought he to himself, ‘we shall only understand one another when she is quite mine. For such love there are no words. It needs life — the whole of life. To-morrow everything will be cleared up. I cannot live like this any longer; to-morrow I will tell everything to her father, to Beletski, and to the whole village.’

Lukashka, after two sleepless nights, had drunk so much at the fete that for the first time in his life his feet would not carry him, and he slept in Yamka’s house.

The next day Olenin awoke earlier than usual, and immediately remembered what lay before him, and he joyfully recalled her kisses, the pressure of her hard hands, and her words, ‘What white hands you have!’ He jumped up and wished to go at once to his hosts’ hut to ask for their consent to his marriage with Maryanka. The sun had not yet risen, but it seemed that there was an unusual bustle in the street and side-street: people were moving about on foot and on horseback, and talking. He threw on his Circassian coat and hastened out into the porch. His hosts were not yet up. Five Cossacks were riding past and talking loudly together. In front rode Lukashka on his broad-backed Kabarda horse.

The Cossacks were all speaking and shouting so that it was impossible to make out exactly what they were saying.

‘Ride to the Upper Post,’ shouted one.

‘Saddle and catch us up, be quick,’ said another.

‘It’s nearer through the other gate!’

‘What are you talking about?’ cried Lukashka. ‘We must go through the middle gates, of course.’

‘So we must, it’s nearer that way,’ said one of the Cossacks who was covered with dust and rode a perspiring horse. Lukashka’s face was red and swollen after the drinking of the previous night and his cap was pushed to the back of his head. He was calling out with authority as though he were an officer.