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Page 27
But this was not the end, if you please. On the same day that the Evil
One made way with Petrus, Basavriuk appeared again; but all fled from
him. They knew what sort of a bird he was,--none else than Satan, who
had assumed human form in order to unearth treasures; and, since
treasures do not yield to unclean hands, he seduced the young. That same
year, all deserted their earth huts, and collected in a village; but,
even there, there was no peace, on account of that accursed Basavriuk.
My late grandfather's aunt said that he was particularly angry with her,
because she had abandoned her former tavern, and tried with all his
might to revenge himself upon her. Once the village elders were
assembled in the tavern, and, as the saying goes, were arranging the
precedence at the table, in the middle of which was placed a small
roasted lamb, shame to say. They chattered about this, that, and the
other,--among the rest about various marvels and strange things. Well,
they saw something; it would have been nothing if only one had seen it,
but all saw it; and it was this: the sheep raised his head; his goggling
eyes became alive and sparkled; and the black, bristling moustache,
which appeared for one instant, made a significant gesture at those
present. All, at once, recognized Basavriuk's countenance in the sheep's
head: my grandfather's aunt thought it was on the point of asking for
vodka. . . . The worthy elders seized their hats, and hastened home.
Another time, the church starost [Footnote: Elder] himself, who was
fond of an occasional private interview with my grandfather's brandy-
glass, had not succeeded in getting to the bottom twice, when he beheld
the glass bowing very low to him. "Satan take you, let us make the sign
of the cross over you!" . . . And the same marvel happened to his better-
half. She had just begun to mix the dough in a huge kneading-trough,
when suddenly the trough sprang up. "Stop, stop! where are you going?"
Putting its arms akimbo, with dignity, it went skipping all about the
cottage. . . . You may laugh, but it was no laughing-matter to our
grandfathers. And in vain did Father Athanasii go through all the
village with holy water, and chase the Devil through all the streets
with his brush; and my late grandfather's aunt long complained that, as
soon as it was dark, some one came knocking at her door, and scratching
at the wall.
Well! All appears to be quiet now, in the place where our village
stands; but it was not so very long ago--my father was still alive--that
I remember how a good man could not pass the ruined tavern, which a
dishonest race had long managed for their own interest. From the smoke-
blackened chimneys, smoke poured out in a pillar, and rising high in the
air, as if to take an observation, rolled off like a cap, scattering
burning coals over the steppe; and Satan (the son of a dog should not be
mentioned) sobbed so pitifully in his lair, that the startled ravens
rose in flocks from the neighboring oak-wood, and flew through the air
with wild cries.
AN OLD ACQUAINTANCE
BY
COUNT LYOF N. TOLSTOI
From "The Invaders." Translated by N. H. Dole.
1887
(Prince Nekhiludof Relates how, during an Expedition in the Caucasus,
he met an Acquaintance from Moscow)
Our division had been out in the field. The work in hand was
accomplished: we had cut a way through the forest, and each day we were
expecting from headquarters orders for our return to the fort. Our
division of fieldpieces was stationed at the top of a steep mountain-
crest which was terminated by the swift mountain-river Mechik, and had
to command the plain that stretched before us. Here and there on this
picturesque plain, out of the reach of gunshot, now and then, especially
at evening, groups of mounted mountaineers showed themselves, attracted
by curiosity to ride up and view the Russian camp.
The evening was clear, mild, and fresh, as it is apt to be in December
in the Caucasus; the sun was setting behind the steep chain of the
mountains at the left, and threw rosy rays upon the tents scattered over
the slope, upon the soldiers moving about, and upon our two guns, which
seemed to crane their necks as they rested motionless on the earthwork
two paces from us. The infantry picket, stationed on the knoll at the
left, stood in perfect silhouette against the light of the sunset; no
less distinct were the stacks of muskets, the form of the sentry, the
groups of soldiers, and the smoke of the smouldering camp-fire.
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