Chapter V: The She-Wolf

"'Tis twenty years now
Since my Djoma was taken,
Was carried to sleep
'Neath his little grass blanket;
And still my heart bleeds,
And I pray for him always,
No apple till Spassa[53]
I touch with my lips....

"For long I lay ill, Not a word did I utter, 10 My eyes could not suffer The old man, Savyeli. No work did I do, And my Father-in-law thought To give me a lesson And took down the horse-reins; I bowed to his feet, And cried--'Kill me! Oh, kill me! I pray for the end!' He hung the reins up, then. 20 I lived day and night On the grave of my Djoma, I dusted it clean With a soft little napkin That grass might grow green, And I prayed for my lost one. I yearned for my parents: 'Oh, you have forgotten, Forgotten your daughter!'

"'We have not forgotten 30 Our poor little daughter, But is it worth while, say, To wear the grey horse out By such a long journey To learn about your woes, To tell you of ours? Since long, little daughter, Would father and mother Have journeyed to see you, But ever the thought rose: 40 She'll weep at our coming, She'll shriek when we leave!'

"In winter came Philip,
Our sorrow together
We shared, and together
We fought with our grief
In the grandfather's hut."

"The grandfather died, then?"

"Oh, no, in his cottage
For seven whole days 50
He lay still without speaking,
And then he got up
And he went to the forest;
And there old Savyeli
So wept and lamented,
The woods were set throbbing.
In autumn he left us
And went as a pilgrim
On foot to do penance
At some distant convent.... 60

"I went with my husband To visit my parents, And then began working Again. Three years followed, Each week like the other, As twin to twin brother, And each year a child. There was no time for thinking And no time for grieving; Praise God if you have time 70 For getting your work done And crossing your forehead. You eat--when there's something Left over at table, When elders have eaten, When children have eaten; You sleep--when you're ill....

"In the fourth year came sorrow
Again; for when sorrow
Once lightens upon you 80
To death he pursues you;
He circles before you--
A bright shining falcon;
He hovers behind you--
An ugly black raven;
He flies in advance--
But he will not forsake you;
He lingers behind--
But he will not forget....

"I lost my dear parents. 90 The dark nights alone knew The grief of the orphan; No need is there, brothers, To tell you about it. With tears did I water The grave of my baby. From far once I noticed A wooden cross standing Erect at its head, And a little gilt icon; 100 A figure is kneeling Before it--'Savyeli! From whence have you come?'

"'I have come from Pesotchna.
I've prayed for the soul
Of our dear little Djoma;
I've prayed for the peasants
Of Russia.... Matrona,
Once more do I pray--
Oh, Matrona ... Matrona.... 110
I pray that the heart
Of the mother, at last,
May be softened towards me....
Forgive me, Matrona!'

"'Oh, long, long ago
I forgave you, Savyeli.'

"'Then look at me now
As in old times, Matrona!'

"I looked as of old.
Then up rose Savyeli, 120
And gazed in my eyes;
He was trying to straighten
His stiffened old back;
Like the snow was his hair now.
I kissed the old man,
And my new grief I told him;
For long we sat weeping
And mourning together.
He did not live long
After that. In the autumn 130
A deep wound appeared
In his neck, and he sickened.
He died very hard.
For a hundred days, fully,
No food passed his lips;
To the bone he was shrunken.
He laughed at himself:
'Tell me, truly, Matrona,
Now am I not like
A Korojin mosquito?' 140

"At times the old man
Would be gentle and patient;
At times he was angry
And nothing would please him;
He frightened us all
By his outbursts of fury:
'Eh, plough not, and sow not,
You downtrodden peasants!
You women, sit spinning
And weaving no longer! 150
However you struggle,
You fools, you must perish!
You will not escape
What by fate has been written!
Three roads are spread out
For the peasant to follow--
They lead to the tavern,
The mines, and the prison!
Three nooses are hung
For the women of Russia: 160
The one is of white silk,
The second of red silk,
The third is of black silk--
Choose that which you please!'
And Grandfather laughed
In a manner which caused us
To tremble with fear
And draw nearer together....
He died in the night,
And we did as he asked us: 170
We laid him to rest
In the grave beside Djoma.
The Grandfather lived
To a hundred and seven....

"Four years passed away then,
The one like the other,
And I was submissive,
The slave of the household,
For Mother-in-law
And her husband the drunkard, 180
For Sister-in-law
By all suitors rejected.
I'd draw off their boots--
Only,--touch not my children!
For them I stood firm
Like a rock. Once it happened
A pilgrim arrived
At our village--a holy
And pious-tongued woman;
She spoke to the people 190
Of how to please God
And of how to reach Heaven.
She said that on fast-days
No woman should offer
The breast to her child.
The women obeyed her:
On Wednesdays and Fridays
The village was filled
By the wailing of babies;
And many a mother 200
Sat bitterly weeping
To hear her child cry
For its food--full of pity,
But fearing God's anger.
But I did not listen!
I said to myself
That if penance were needful
The mothers must suffer,
But not little children.
I said, 'I am guilty, 210
My God--not my children!'

"It seems God was angry
And punished me for it
Through my little son;
My Father-in-law
To the commune had offered
My little Fedotka
As help to the shepherd
When he was turned eight....
One night I was waiting 220
To give him his supper;
The cattle already
Were home, but he came not.
I went through the village
And saw that the people
Were gathered together
And talking of something.
I listened, then elbowed
My way through the people;
Fedotka was set 230
In their midst, pale and trembling,
The Elder was gripping
His ear. 'What has happened?
And why do you hold him?'
I said to the Elder.

"'I'm going to beat him,-- He threw a young lamb To the wolf,' he replied.

"I snatched my Fedotka
Away from their clutches; 240
And somehow the Elder
Fell down on the ground!

"The story was strange: It appears that the shepherd Went home for awhile, Leaving little Fedotka In charge of the flock. 'I was sitting,' he told me, 'Alone on the hillside, When all of a sudden 250 A wolf ran close by me And picked Masha's lamb up. I threw myself at her, I whistled and shouted, I cracked with my whip, Blew my horn for Valetka, And then I gave chase. I run fast, little Mother, But still I could never Have followed the robber 260 If not for the traces She left; because, Mother, Her breasts hung so low (She was suckling her children) They dragged on the earth And left two tracks of blood. But further the grey one Went slower and slower; And then she looked back And she saw I was coming. 270 At last she sat down. With my whip then I lashed her; ''Come, give me the lamb, You grey devil!'' She crouched, But would not give it up. I said--''I must save it Although she should kill me.'' I threw myself on her And snatched it away, But she did not attack me. 280 The lamb was quite dead, She herself was scarce living. She gnashed with her teeth And her breathing was heavy; And two streams of blood ran From under her body. Her ribs could be counted, Her head was hung down, But her eyes, little Mother, Looked straight into mine ... 290 Then she groaned of a sudden, She groaned, and it sounded As if she were crying. I threw her the lamb....'

"Well, that was the story.
And foolish Fedotka
Ran back to the village
And told them about it.
And they, in their anger,
Were going to beat him 300
When I came upon them.
The Elder, because
Of his fall, was indignant,
He shouted--'How dare you!
Do you want a beating
Yourself?' And the woman
Whose lamb had been stolen
Cried, 'Whip the lad soundly,
'Twill teach him a lesson!'
Fedotka she pulled from 310
My arms, and he trembled,
He shook like a leaf.

"Then the horns of the huntsmen
Were heard,--the Pomyeshchick
Returning from hunting.
I ran to him, crying,
'Oh, save us! Protect us!'

"'What's wrong? Call the Elder!'
And then, in an instant,
The matter is settled: 320
'The shepherd is tiny--
His youth and his folly
May well be forgiven.
The woman's presumption
You'll punish severely!'

"'Oh, Barin, God bless you!'
I danced with delight!
'Fedotka is safe now!
Run home, quick, Fedotka.'

"'Your will shall be done, sir,' 330
The Elder said, bowing;
'Now, woman, prepare;
You can dance later on!'

"A gossip then whispered,
'Fall down at the feet
Of the Elder--beg mercy!'

"'Fedotka--go home!'

"Then I kissed him, and told him:
'Remember, Fedotka,
That I shall be angry 340
If once you look backwards.
Run home!'

"Well, my brothers,
To leave out a word
Of the song is to spoil it,--
I lay on the ground...."

* * * * *

"I crawled like a cat To Fedotushka's corner That night. He was sleeping, He tossed in his dream. 350 One hand was hung down, While the other, clenched tightly, Was shielding his eyes: 'You've been crying, my treasure; Sleep, darling, it's nothing-- See, Mother is near!' I'd lost little Djoma While heavy with this one; He was but a weakling, But grew very clever. 360 He works with his dad now, And built such a chimney With him, for his master, The like of it never Was seen. Well, I sat there The whole of the night By the sweet little shepherd. At daybreak I crossed him, I fastened his laputs, I gave him his wallet, 370 His horn and his whip. The rest began stirring, But nothing I told them Of all that had happened, But that day I stayed From the work in the fields.

"I went to the banks
Of the swift little river,
I sought for a spot
Which was silent and lonely 380
Amid the green rushes
That grow by the bank.

"And on the grey stone
I sat down, sick and weary,
And leaning my head
On my hands, I lamented,
Poor sorrowing orphan.
And loudly I called
On the names of my parents:
'Oh, come, little Father, 390
My tender protector!
Oh, look at the daughter
You cherished and loved!'

"In vain do I call him!
The loved one has left me;
The guest without lord,
Without race, without kindred,
Named Death, has appeared,
And has called him away.

"And wildly I summon 400
My mother, my mother!
The boisterous wind cries,
The distant hills answer,
But mother is dead,
She can hear me no longer!

"You grieved day and night,
And you prayed for me always,
But never, beloved,
Shall I see you again;
You cannot turn back now, 410
And I may not follow.

"A pathway so strange,
So unknown, you have chosen,
The beasts cannot find it,
The winds cannot reach it,
My voice will be lost
In the terrible distance....

"My loving protectors,
If you could but see me!
Could know what your daughter 420
Must suffer without you!
Could learn of the people
To whom you have left her!

"By night bathed in tears,
And by day weak and trembling,
I bow like the grass
To the wind, but in secret
A heart full of fury
Is gnawing my breast!"