studded with beads, came bounding joyfully from behind his heels to
greet and sport with the other dogs. Finally, as soon as Papa had
mounted we rode away.
VII -- THE HUNT
AT the head of the cavalcade rode Turka, on a hog-backed roan. On his
head he wore a shaggy cap, while, with a magnificent horn slung across
his shoulders and a knife at his belt, he looked so cruel and inexorable
that one would have thought he was going to engage in bloody strife with
his fellow men rather than to hunt a small animal. Around the hind legs
of his horse the hounds gambolled like a cluster of checkered, restless
balls. If one of them wished to stop, it was only with the greatest
difficulty that it could do so, since not only had its leash-fellow
also to be induced to halt, but at once one of the huntsmen would wheel
round, crack his whip, and shout to the delinquent,
"Back to the pack, there!"
Arrived at a gate, Papa told us and the huntsmen to continue our way
along the road, and then rode off across a cornfield. The harvest was at
its height. On the further side of a large, shining, yellow stretch of
cornland lay a high purple belt of forest which always figured in my
eyes as a distant, mysterious region behind which either the world ended
or an uninhabited waste began. This expanse of corn-land was dotted with
swathes and reapers, while along the lanes where the sickle had passed
could be seen the backs of women as they stooped among the tall, thick
grain or lifted armfuls of corn and rested them against the shocks. In
one corner a woman was bending over a cradle, and the whole stubble was
studded with sheaves and cornflowers. In another direction shirt-sleeved
men were standing on waggons, shaking the soil from the stalks of
sheaves, and stacking them for carrying. As soon as the foreman (dressed
in a blouse and high boots, and carrying a tally-stick) caught sight of
Papa, he hastened to take off his lamb's-wool cap and, wiping his red
head, told the women to get up. Papa's chestnut horse went trotting
along with a prancing gait as it tossed its head and swished its tail
to and fro to drive away the gadflies and countless other insects which
tormented its flanks, while his two greyhounds--their tails curved like
sickles--went springing gracefully over the stubble. Milka was always
first, but every now and then she would halt with a shake of her head
to await the whipper-in. The chatter of the peasants; the rumbling of
horses and waggons; the joyous cries of quails; the hum of insects as
they hung suspended in the motionless air; the smell of the soil and
grain and steam from our horses; the thousand different lights and
shadows which the burning sun cast upon the yellowish-white cornland;
the purple forest in the distance; the white gossamer threads which were
floating in the air or resting on the soil-all these things I observed
and heard and felt to the core.
Arrived at the Kalinovo wood, we found the carriage awaiting us
there, with, beside it, a one-horse waggonette driven by the butler--a
waggonette in which were a tea-urn, some apparatus for making ices, and
many other attractive boxes and bundles, all packed in straw! There was
no mistaking these signs, for they meant that we were going to have tea,
fruit, and ices in the open air. This afforded us intense delight, since
to drink tea in a wood and on the grass and where none else had ever
drunk tea before seemed to us a treat beyond expressing.
When Turka arrived at the little clearing where the carriage was
halted he took Papa's detailed instructions as to how we were to divide
ourselves and where each of us was to go (though, as a matter of fact,
he never acted according to such instructions, but always followed his
own devices). Then he unleashed the hounds, fastened the leashes to
his saddle, whistled to the pack, and disappeared among the young birch
trees the liberated hounds jumping about him in high delight, wagging
their tails, and sniffing and gambolling with one another as they
dispersed themselves in different directions.
"Has anyone a pocket-handkerchief to spare?" asked Papa. I took mine
from my pocket and offered it to him.
"Very well. Fasten it to this greyhound here."
"Gizana?" I asked, with the air of a connoisseur.
"Yes. Then run him along the road with you. When you come to a little
clearing in the wood stop and look about you, and don't come back to me
without a hare."
Accordingly I tied my handkerchief round Gizana's soft neck, and set off
running at full speed towards the appointed spot, Papa laughing as he
shouted after me, "Hurry up, hurry up or you'll be late!"
Every now and then Gizana kept stopping, pricking up his ears, and
listening to the hallooing of the beaters. Whenever he did this I was
not strong enough to move him, and could do no more than shout, "Come
on, come on!" Presently he set off so fast that I could not restrain
him, and I encountered more than one fall before we reached our
destination. Selecting there a level, shady spot near the roots of a
great oak-tree, I lay down on the turf, made Gizana crouch beside me,
and waited. As usual, my imagination far outstripped reality. I fancied
that I was pursuing at least my third hare when, as a matter of fact,
the first hound was only just giving tongue. Presently, however, Turka's
voice began to sound through the wood in louder and more excited tones,
the baying of a hound came nearer and nearer, and then another, and then
a third, and then a fourth, deep throat joined in the rising and falling
cadences of a chorus, until the whole had united their voices in one
continuous, tumultuous burst of melody. As the Russian proverb expresses
it, "The forest had found a tongue, and the hounds were burning as with
fire."
My excitement was so great that I nearly swooned where I stood. My lips
parted themselves as though smiling, the perspiration poured from me in
streams, and, in spite of the tickling sensation caused by the drops as
they trickled over my chin, I never thought of wiping them away. I felt
that a crisis was approaching. Yet the tension was too unnatural to
last. Soon the hounds came tearing along the edge of the wood, and
then--behold, they were racing away from me again, and of hares there
was not a sign to be seen! I looked in every direction and Gizana did
the same--pulling at his leash at first and whining. Then he lay down
again by my side, rested his muzzle on my knees, and resigned himself to
disappointment. Among the naked roots of the oak-tree under which I was
sitting. I could see countless ants swarming over the parched grey earth
and winding among the acorns, withered oak-leaves, dry twigs, russet
moss, and slender, scanty blades of grass. In serried files they kept
pressing forward on the level track they had made for themselves--some
carrying burdens, some not. I took a piece of twig and barred their way.
Instantly it was curious to see how they made light of the obstacle.
Some got past it by creeping underneath, and some by climbing over it. A
few, however, there were (especially those weighted with loads) who were
nonplussed what to do. They either halted and searched for a way round,
or returned whence they had come, or climbed the adjacent herbage, with
the evident intention of reaching my hand and going up the sleeve of my