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Chapter 5 Yermolai and the Miller Wife (2)
Yermolay scolded him all kinds of bad words. "Let's go to the village," he said at last with a sigh.But it's about two versts to the village... "Spend the night here," I said, "it's just outside, it's not cold tonight; for a little money, the miller will give us some straw." Garrison thoughtfully agreed.We knock on the door again. "What are you going to do?" The hired worker's voice was heard again, "I told him it was impossible." We told him our thoughts.He went in to discuss with the master for a while, and then returned with the master.The door opened with a bang.The miller came out, a strong man with a fat face, the back of a bull's head, and a big round belly.He granted my request.A hundred paces from the mill there was a small shed without walls.Here they bring straw and hay.The hireling placed the samovar on the grass by the river, squatted down, and blew vigorously on the pipe... Through the charcoal fire, his young face was clearly illuminated.The miller went back and called his wife, and at last offered me to go in and spend the night, but I preferred to sleep in the open air.The miller's wife brought us milk, eggs, potatoes, and bread.When the tea boils, we will drink it.There was steam rising from the river, and there was no wind; there was the cry of crakes nearby; there was a faint sound around the wheels of the water wheel, the sound of water dripping from the wings of the wheels, and seeping through the gates of the dike.We built a fire, and while Ermolay was roasting potatoes in the ashes, I took the opportunity to take a nap... I was awakened by soft, cautious voices.I looked up, and in front of the fire, on an upturned barrel, sat the miller's wife, talking to my hunter.I had already guessed from her dress, actions, and accent that she was a landowner's maid—not a peasant woman, nor a petty bourgeois woman, and it was only now that I really saw her face clearly.She looked to be about 30 years old, and her thin and pale face still had a wonderful youthful remnant.I like her big sad eyes the most.She rested her elbows on her knees and rested her face on one hand.Yermolay was sitting with his back to me, adding wood to the fire.

"Riltushina is coming into fashion again," said the miller's wife, "two cows at Father Ivan's house are sick... What a pity!"

"How is your pig?" Yermolay asked after a moment's silence. "Alive."

"It would be nice if you could give me a little pig." The miller's wife said nothing, then sighed. "Your companion?" she asked. "Master Kostomarov."

Yermolai threw a few sticks into the fire, and the sticks crackled at once, and white smoke rushed straight into his face.

"Why doesn't your husband let us go into the house?" "He's afraid."

"Hey, that fat, pot-bellied . . . darling, Arina Timofeyevna, bring me a drink!"

The miller's wife got up and disappeared into the darkness.Yermolai sang in a low voice:

In order to find a lover, I put all my boots on...

Alina returned with a small bottle and a cup.Ermolay got up, made the sign of the sign of the cross, and drank the wine in one gulp. "Delicious!" he said.

The miller's wife sat down there. "Well, Alina Timofeyevna, are you still often ill?"

"Yes." "What's going on?"

"Cough at night, very uncomfortable." "Master may be asleep," said Yermolay after a short silence, "don't go to the doctor, Alina, it's better if you don't."" I didn't go."

"Come and play at my house."

Alina lowered her head. "Then I'll throw out my wife at home," continued Yermolay, "really."

"Go and wake your master up, Yermolay Petrovitch, look, the potatoes are ready."

"Let him go on," said my faithful servant flatly, "he has walked a long way and slept soundly."

I sat up in the hay.Yermolai came up to me. "The potatoes are ready, please use them." I walked out from the open shed.The miller's wife rose from the barrel to go.I will talk to her. "Have you rented this mill for a long time?" "It's been rented since Trinity Day, and it's the second year now." "Where is your husband from?" Alina didn't understand my question. "Where is your husband from?" Yermolay raised his voice and repeated my words. "It's Mrs. Belyo. He's a bourgeois there." "Are you from there, too?" "No, I'm a landowner... I was a landowner." "Which one?" "Mr. Tsferkov .Now I'm a free man." "Which Zferkov?"

"Alexander Schlach." "Are you his wife's girl?" "How did you know?—Yes." I looked at Alina with more curiosity and sympathy. "I know your master." I continued. "You know him?" she said softly, bowing her head.

The reader must be told why I looked at Alina with such sympathy.When I was staying in Petersburg, I met Mr. Tsifelkov by chance.He was of high stature, and was known for his erudition and tact.He had a wife, plump, extraordinarily sensitive, weeping and fierce—a vulgar and obstinate woman; and only one son, a perfect young master, lazy and stupid.Mr. Tsferkov's appearance was ordinary, with a broad square face, small mouse-like eyes peering slyly, a large and pointed perforated nose, and hair that stood upright like a mane in a frown. On Baba's forehead, the thin lips kept trembling, making a very sweet smile.Mr. Tsferkov always stood with his legs spread apart, with his fat hands in his pockets.Once the two of us took a carriage to the outskirts of the city.As we were talking, Mr. Tsferkov, an experienced and capable man, began to instruct me on the "truths of life."

"Permit me to suggest to you," he said in a sharp voice at last, "that all you young people, who judge and explain everything without thinking, do not quite understand your own country. Sir, you Not familiar with Russia, indeed! . . . You read German books."

Now, say, you're talking to me about this, about that, about that, about the servants... Well, I have no objection, it's all very well.But you don't understand them, what kind of people they are. (Mr. Tsferkov blows his nose vigorously and takes another sniff.) Well, let me tell you a story that may interest you. (Mr. Tsferkov coughs and clears his throat.) You know what kind of person my wife is, and a kinder woman than her is probably hard to find, you must admit.Her handmaidens hardly lived life on earth, but in heaven... But my wife made a rule for herself: do not use married girls.This is indeed inappropriate. After giving birth to a child, how can this girl take good care of her wife and take care of her daily life?She can't control these things anymore, and doesn't take these things to heart.This is human nature.Well, once we passed by our village in a car, which year did this happen, let me think about it seriously, oh, this was 15 years ago.We saw the village chief's daughter, who was quite cute; moreover, her attitude was also very pleasant.My wife just said to me: "Coco—you know, that's what she called me—let's take her to Petersburg, I like this girl, Coco..." I said, "Very well, bring her Go fuck her." The village chief was naturally grateful.Do you know that this kind of happiness is beyond his imagination... That girl, of course, cried for a while.It was really hard at first, to be away from my parents' house...on the whole...not surprising.But she soon became acquainted with us.At the beginning, let her live in the maid's room, and of course educate her.do you know how ... This girl has made amazing progress.My wife loves her very much, appreciates her, and finally puts aside other people and takes her as her personal maid... You see! ... But to do her justice, too: my wife has never had a girl like this before, never;But, to be honest, my wife spoils her too much. Dress her well, feed her the same dishes as the master, and drink tea for her...it's everything!She served my wife like this for ten years.Suddenly, one day, please imagine, Alina—her name is Alina— came to my study without notice—and fell on her knees before me... I can't accept that.One must never forget who one is, right? "Do you have any business?" "Master Alexander Schlage, please agree." "What is it?" "Permit me to marry." To tell you the truth, I was surprised. "Fool, do you know that the wife is only you?" "I will still serve the wife." "Nonsense! Nonsense! The wife does not want a married girl." "Malania can take over from me." "Don't Come up with such an idea!" "Listen to your opinion..." To be honest, I was almost stunned.Tell you, I am such a person: I am sure that no insult can be more extreme than ungrateful... Needless to say-you know my wife is such a person: she is an angel incarnate, her goodness It's obvious... Even the wicked will love her.I chase Alina out of the room.I think she might figure it out.You know, I don't want to believe that people are ungrateful.But guess what?Half a year later, she came to make this request to me again.At this time, I really lost my temper. I kicked her out and threatened her, saying that I would tell my wife.I was so angry...but what surprised me was this: after some time my wife came to me in tears and she cried so hard that I almost jumped. "What happened?" "Alina..." As you can imagine... I'm embarrassed to say it. "Impossible! . . . Who could it be?" "Peterluschka, the footman." I was furious.I am a person who does not like sloppy! ... Peter Lushka ... is innocent.It is all right to punish him, but in my opinion he is innocent.As for Alina, alas, alas, alas, what is there to say?Of course, I'll have her hair shaved right away, put her in rough clothes, and send her into the country.My wife has lost a good girl, but there's nothing I can do about it, it's always impossible to make a mess in the house.It is better to remove the rotten meat! ...Ah, ah, now think for yourself—you know my wife, it's, it's, it's... an angel! ...She is really reluctant to part with Alina, Alina knows this, but she has no shame...Huh?No, you said... ah?There is nothing more to say!In any case, there is no turning back.As for me, I myself have been grieved and angry for a long time because of the girl's ingratitude.No matter what, there is no conscience or human feelings in this kind of person!No matter what you feed a wolf, its heart is always in the woods...a lesson for the future!Actually I just want to explain to you...

Mr. Tsferkov turned away without finishing his sentence, bravely restraining his involuntary agitation, and wrapped himself more closely in his cloak.

The reader may now understand why I look at Alina with compassion.

"Have you been married to the miller for a long time?" I finally asked her. "Two years."

"Yes, then does the master agree?" "It was a ransom." "Who took the money?" "Savily Alexeitch." "Who is he?"

"It's my husband. (Yermolay smiles slightly.) Did the master tell you about me?" Alina asked again after a short silence.

I don't know how to answer her question. "Alina!" cried the miller from a distance.She stood up and left.

"How is her husband?" I asked Yermolay. "fine."

"Did they have any children?" "There was one, it's dead."

"Then did the Miller take her fancy, or something else? . . . Did he pay a lot to redeem her?"

"That's not clear. She is literate, which is very important in their industry. So he chose her."

"Did you know her before?" "A long time ago. I used to go to her master's house. Their estate is not far from here." "Peteruschka, the servant, do you know?" Vasilievich? Naturally." "Where is he now?"

"I went to serve as a soldier." We were silent for a while.

"She seems very ill?" I asked Yermolai at last. "You are in bad health!... Tomorrow's hunting should be very good. Now you can sleep for a while." A group of wild ducks chirped, flying over our heads, and we heard them on the river not far from us. landed.It was quite dark, and slowly getting colder; nightingales were singing loudly in the woods.We wrapped our bodies in hay and went to sleep.

(End of this chapter)