Ilya

“ The old man held out his hand, but Ilya did not clasp it. He placed in its palm the red-hot iron which the old man grasped as if it had been the hand of a friend returned after a long journey. As he felt its burning glow he said, "Thy hands are the hands of a hero, O Ilya, son of strength. Now you are indeed worthy to become the younger brother of Svyatogor. Come within the palace of white stone and rest until the call comes, which comes to all true men of deeds, to sally forth upon yet another journey of adventure." ”

“ When he whistles like a nightingale, roars like a lion, and hisses like a serpent, the trees bow themselves to the earth, the green leaves wither, and both horse and rider fall to the ground as if they were dead.”
This was enough to stir the soul of the heroic Ilya, who forthwith mounted his shaggy bay steed Cloudfall, and rode out upon the straight way. ”

“ Upon his broad shoulder he carried a casket of crystal, and when he drew near to the pavilion by the first oak tree, he stooped and set it gently upon the ground and opened it with a key of gold.
The crystal door swung back without a sound, and out stepped the wife of the hero. In all the white world no beauty like this had ever been seen or told. She was tall and stately, but she stepped as daintily as a white hind. Her eyes were clear and steady as those of the falcon, her eyebrows were as black as a starless night, and the whiteness of her skin dazzled the eyes of Ilya in his oak. ”

“ Ilya sat up on his bed, pushed his uncle aside, and said, gloomily:
"Get away!"
Terenti stood in the middle of the room; he looked darkly at his nephew who sat on the bed, his head on his breast, and his shoulders up to his ears.
"Suppose I won't repent," said Ilya boldly. "Suppose I think I didn't want to sin—everything happened of itself, everything is by God's will, why should I trouble? He knows all, and guides all; if He hadn't willed it, He would have held me back. So I was right in all I did. All men live in unrighteousness and sin, but how many repent?—Well, what do you say to that?" ”

“ It would have been too wonderful if Ilya had slept when this strange voice sounded in his ear. Up he sprang, fresh from his slumber and wide awake at once, as every young and healthy person must be who has slept well, loosed the thong which bound Cloudfall to the oak, and climbed without further delay into the branches of the tree on the hillock.
When he looked down, he saw Svyatogor for the first time, and there could be no doubt that he was a hero. He was taller than the trees of the wood, and his flowing locks seemed to be somewhat confused with the flying clouds. ”

“ Two months later, when a new place had been sought for Ilya, zealously but in vain, this conversation took place between the uncle and nephew:
"Yes, it's bad," said the hunchback, gloomily, "not a place to be found for you. Everywhere it's the same thing—he's too big! What shall we do, my boy? What I do you think?"
Ilya answered decidedly and with conviction: "I'm fifteen years old. I can read and write. I'm not stupid, and if I'm insolent they'll only send me away from any other place I get. Who can do with an insolent man?" ”

“ Pile up trunks of oak trees against the door and heap yellow sand over all.”
At once a great company of heroes left the banquet-hall, and coming to the kitchen stood in a ring round Ilya, who smiled at them as a father might smile at his boys; and no man laid hands upon him, for he was the pride of them all. “Help us now, Ilya of Murom,” they said, “or Prince Vladimir will visit upon us his sore displeasure.” So Ilya, smiling still, called Cloudfall, saddled him and rode himself to the entrance of the dungeon. ”

“ A sense of rest and kindliness brooded over the meadow lands, inspiring the thought that a pure, transparent, sweet-smelling air drifted over them, while here it was so suffocating with the reek of the rotting refuse; the stench of it gripped the lungs and irritated the nose, and tears ran from Ilya's eyes as well as from the old man's.
"See, Ilya, how great and wide the world is!" said Jeremy; "and everywhere in it there are men living—living and tormenting themselves—and the Lord looks down out of Heaven and He sees everything and knows everything. ”

“ Ilya looked at her with a smile. "I didn't need to lie much. I'm lucky, after all, Lipa!"
He laughed again in a strange way.
"The secret police are always at my heels," said Olympiada, in a low voice, "and after you too."
"Of course," said Ilya, full of scorn and anger. "They go sniffing around, and want to hem me in, like the beaters do to the wolf in the forest. But they won't do it; they're not the men for that; and I'm not a wolf, but an unlucky man. I didn't mean to strangle any one. Fate strangles me—as Pashka says in his poem—and it strangles Pashka too, and Jakov, and all of us." ”

“ For a few moments the father and mother gazed at the tall young man, the eyes of the former dwelling upon his stature, his strong limbs, and his mighty shoulders, while the mother gazed steadfastly at the face of her son, which was radiant with a wonderful light. Then, clasping his hands and closing his eyes, the old man gave thanks to God that he should be the father of so splendid a workman; but Ilya showed no sign of continuing in his peasant's task, for with a low bow of reverence to his parents, he strode away without a word across the open plain. ”

“ The dampness and the darkness in the room weighed more and more heavily on Ilya, his breathing was oppressed and his soul was filled with fear and sorrow for the dead old man, and with a deep ill-will against his uncle. ”

“ Was I born for just one man? Every one wants to enjoy his life, and every one lives for himself, as he pleases, just as you do, and I do."
"N—No! it isn't so exactly," said Ilya gloomily and thoughtfully. "We all live, but not only for ourselves."
"For whom, then?"
"Take yourself, for instance. You live for the young clerks and all sorts of easy-going people."
"I'm easy-going too," said Vyera, and laughed contentedly.
Ilya left her, in a downcast mood. Only twice, and for a moment, had he seen Pavel during this time. ”

“ One of the four men who entered was Gromov, who lived in the house opposite Ilya's shop. He took the middle chair, ran both his hands over his hair, rumpling it a little and settled the gold-trimmed collar of his uniform. The sight of his face had a calming effect on Ilya; it was just as jolly and red-cheeked as ever, only the ends of the moustache were turned up. On his right sat a good-natured looking old man with a little, grey beard, a blunt nose, and spectacles—on the left a bald-headed man with a divided foxy beard, and a yellow, expressionless face. ”

“ Crack! cried the children in a croaking chorus; "we will at once change ourselves into ravens and rend that peasant hero in pieces with our beaks of iron. Then shall the fragments of his white body be scattered on the bosom of moist Mother Earth." But Nightingale the Robber, who was not yet dead, shouted out a command that no harm was to be done to Ilya the Old Cossáck. This order, however, had no effect upon the one-eyed daughter, who ran quickly into the courtyard, tore up a heavy steel beam from the threshold, and raising it aloft, hurled it at Ilya with all her strength. ”

“ At such times the tales of the hermit Antipa rose in his mind, and the talk of the pious old rag-picker concerning a loving God. "The Lord sees all things, knows all things, beside Him there is nothing."
Ilya would return home full of unrest and perplexity, feeling his dreams of the future fade, and recognising that hidden in him lay something that cared not at all for his little business. ”

“ Ilya laughed aloud.
"What are you laughing at? It's true. You judge every one so harshly. You don't love anybody."
"There you're right," said Ilya, fiercely. "Whom should I love; and why? What good have men done to me? Every one wants to get his bread by some one else's work, and every one cries out: 'love me, respect me, give me a share of your goods; then perhaps I'll love you!' Every one, every where, thinks of nothing but stuffing himself."
"No. I think men don't think only of stuffing themselves," answered Jakov displeased and hurt. ”

“ Ilya got up, walked to the window, and said, with a despairing voice, as he looked at the street:
"All my life I've had to wallow in the mud. I've always been pushed into things I disliked—hated. I've never met a soul I could look at really happily. Is there nothing pure in life, nothing noble? ”

“ Ever so many live like that."
"Well, why have you come to me?" asked Ilya.
"You live here, in a policeman's house. You see, they always catch her. Tell him to let her go, let her run away. She'll manage somehow. Is one not allowed to run away?"
"You really came for that?"
"Yes, why not? They ought not to stop her, tell them!"
"Ah, you people!" cried Ilya, trying to think what he could do for Masha.
Matiza rose from her chair, and shuffled carefully over the floor. She sighed and groaned, and she was not like a human being walking, but like an old, decayed tree falling slowly down. ”

“ Why, the twelve heroes contentedly sitting playing at draughts upon a board of gold and Ilya sound asleep upon a couch under a heavy coverlet of sables. Then the anger of Yermak was very great indeed, and he shouted with all his might. “Ho, there, you Old Cossáck, Ilya of Murom. Yonder in Kiev city there is bread to eat and to spare, but no one to defend the place against the Golden Horde.” ”

“ The life she led had drawn her deeper and deeper into its deep turbid whirlpool. She used to tell Ilya with excitement, of feasting with rich young tradesmen, with officials and officers, of suppers in restaurants and troika excursions. She showed him new dresses and jackets, the gifts of her admirers. Luxurious, strong, and healthy, she was proud to be entreated and quarrelled over. Ilya rejoiced in her health and good spirits and beauty, but more than once warned her: "Don't lose your head at the game, Vyeratchka."
"What's the odds? It's my way. At least, one lives in style. ”

“ One day he tried to get clear about it and asked the cobbler with an incredulous laugh: "And is there really nothing in all the world that you want, Perfishka?"
"Oh! I don't say that. A mouthful of brandy, for instance, I'm always wanting."
"No, tell me the truth! There must be something in the world that you want," persisted Ilya.
"Want to know the truth, do you? Well then, I should like a new harmonica, a right-down good harmonica, say twenty-five roubles. Ha! ha! then I'd play to you!" ”

“ Let me pay them for my fun and, Prince, give me work worthy of a hero."
"The time demands a hero's help," said Prince Vladimir, "for my royal city goes in fear by day and passes sleepless nights in terror for Falcon the Hunter, who rides the heavens and can pass over the loftiest barriers to hurl his fiery darts upon every golden pinnacle which rears upward to the sky. Make a barrier, Ilya, upon the road by which he comes, and check him, if you can, with fiery shafts from your magic bow." ”

“ When the feast was over, the Prince gave the hero the supreme honour of ever henceforth styling himself Ilya of Murom the Old Cossáck, for it was reckoned the highest honour that a hero should take his title from the land on which he was born, especially if it was owned by his father; and Ilya, being a true gentleman, valued this distinction infinitely higher than a heaped-up waggon-load of red gold, another of white silver, and a third of fine seed pearls. ”

“ My limbs were stiffened with frost."
"Sing away, nightingales!" a voice shouted encouragingly.
"They're singing so beautifully," thought Ilya, "that it catches hold of one's heart, and presently they'll get drunk and fight most likely; man never holds on to the good very long."
"Ah! cruel, cruel fate," lamented the tenor, and the bass, deep and powerful, intoned:
"Thou load of iron weight."
Suddenly, before Ilya's mind flashed the vision of old Jeremy. The old man shook his head and spoke while the tears flowed down his cheeks:
"I have seen—I have seen, but have never perceived the truth." ”

“ You're well fed; you're no comrade for me."
"Get rid of your crazy thoughts!" cried Ilya reproachfully.
"But I'm hungry, body and soul."
"It surprises me, the way men judge," said Ilya mockingly and shrugged his shoulders. "A woman is to be a man's property, like a cow or a horse! Will you do what I want? All right, you shan't be beaten,—won't you? then crack! there's one on the head for you, devil! ”

“ Vasena answered for him: "You may well ask how he is doing, Ilya
Ippolytovich! Why, we are fearing the worst every day."
Ilya threw her a reproachful glance and said loudly: "It is nonsense, father! You have still a hundred years to live! You are tired, let us sit down here and have a talk together."
They sat down on the marble steps of the terrace. Silence. No words came to Ilya. ”

“ Ilya noticed this, and looked at him mockingly.
"Ilusha," began Terenti, in a low voice as he sat down on a chair.
"Well."
"There are strange reports going about you; people say evil things of you."
The hunchback sighed, and closed his eyes.
"For instance?" said Ilya, drawing on his boots.
"Some say one thing, some another; some say you were mixed up in that affair when the old merchant was strangled; others say you pass false money."
"They're envious, eh?"
"Different people have been here, secret police it seems—detectives—they questioned Petrusha about you." ”