The Cossacks, graf Tolstoy Leo [best smutty novels .txt] 📗

thought he. ‘No, better not go.

It’s all so horrid, so vulgar, and above all—it leads to

nothing!’ But again he was worried by the question of what would

take place; and besides he felt as if bound by a promise. He went

out without having made up his mind one way or the other, but he

walked as far as Beletski’s, and went in there.

 

The hut in which Beletski lived was like Olenin’s. It was raised

nearly five feet from the ground on wooden piles, and had two

rooms. In the first (which Olenin entered by the steep flight of

steps) feather beds, rugs, blankets, and cushions were tastefully

and handsomely arranged, Cossack fashion, along the main wall. On

the side wall hung brass basins and weapons, while on the floor,

under a bench, lay watermelons and pumpkins. In the second room

there was a big brick oven, a table, and sectarian icons. It was

here that Beletski was quartered, with his camp-bed and his pack

and trunks. His weapons hung on the wall with a little rug behind

them, and on the table were his toilet appliances and some

portraits. A silk dressing-gown had been thrown on the bench.

Beletski himself, clean and good-looking, lay on the bed in his

underclothing, reading Les Trois Mousquetaires.

 

He jumped up.

 

‘There, you see how I have arranged things. Fine! Well, it’s good

that you have come. They are working furiously. Do you know what

the pie is made of? Dough with a stuffing of pork and grapes. But

that’s not the point. You just look at the commotion out there!’

 

And really, on looking out of the window they saw an unusual

bustle going on in the hut. Girls ran in and out, now for one

thing and now for another.

 

‘Will it soon be ready?’ cried Beletski.

 

‘Very soon! Why? Is Grandad hungry?’ and from the hut came the

sound of ringing laughter.

 

Ustenka, plump, small, rosy, and pretty, with her sleeves turned

up, ran into Beletski’s hut to fetch some plates.

 

‘Get away or I shall smash the plates!’ she squeaked, escaping

from Beletski. ‘You’d better come and help,’ she shouted to

Olenin, laughing. ‘And don’t forget to get some refreshments for

the girls.’ (‘Refreshments’ meaning spicebread and sweets.)

 

‘And has Maryanka come?’

 

‘Of course! She brought some dough.’

 

‘Do you know,’ said Beletski, ‘if one were to dress Ustenka up and

clean and polish her up a bit, she’d be better than all our

beauties. Have you ever seen that Cossack woman who married a

colonel; she was charming! Borsheva? What dignity! Where do they

get it…’

 

‘I have not seen Borsheva, but I think nothing could be better

than the costume they wear here.’

 

‘Ah, I’m first-rate at fitting into any kind of life,’ said

Beletski with a sigh of pleasure. ‘I’ll go and see what they are

up to.’

 

He threw his dressing-gown over his shoulders and ran out,

shouting, ‘And you look after the “refreshments”.’

 

Olenin sent Beletski’s orderly to buy spicebread and honey; but

it suddenly seemed to him so disgusting to give money (as if he

were bribing someone) that he gave no definite reply to the

orderly’s question: ‘How much spicebread with peppermint, and how

much with honey?’

 

‘Just as you please.’

 

‘Shall I spend all the money,’ asked the old soldier impressively.

‘The peppermint is dearer. It’s sixteen kopeks.’

 

‘Yes, yes, spend it all,’ answered Olenin and sat down by the

window, surprised that his heart was thumping as if he were

preparing himself for something serious and wicked.

 

He heard screaming and shrieking in the girls’ hut when Beletski

went there, and a few moments later saw how he jumped out and ran

down the steps, accompanied by shrieks, bustle, and laughter.

 

‘Turned out,’ he said.

 

A little later Ustenka entered and solemnly invited her visitors

to come in: announcing that all was ready.

 

When they came into the room they saw that everything was really

ready. Ustenka was rearranging the cushions along the wall. On the

table, which was covered by a disproportionately small cloth, was

a decanter of chikhir and some dried fish. The room smelt of dough

and grapes. Some half dozen girls in smart tunics, with their

heads not covered as usual with kerchiefs, were huddled together

in a corner behind the oven, whispering, giggling, and spluttering

with laughter.

 

‘I humbly beg you to do honour to my patron saint,’ said Ustenka,

inviting her guests to the table.

 

Olenin noticed Maryanka among the group of girls, who without

exception were all handsome, and he felt vexed and hurt that he

met her in such vulgar and awkward circumstances. He felt stupid

and awkward, and made up his mind to do what Beletski did.

Beletski stepped to the table somewhat solemnly yet with

confidence and ease, drank a glass of wine to Ustenka’s health,

and invited the others to do the same. Ustenka announced that

girls don’t drink. ‘We might with a little honey,’ exclaimed a

voice from among the group of girls. The orderly, who had just

returned with the honey and spice-cakes, was called in. He looked

askance (whether with envy or with contempt) at the gentlemen, who

in his opinion were on the spree; and carefully and

conscientiously handed over to them a piece of honeycomb and the

cakes wrapped up in a piece of greyish paper, and began explaining

circumstantially all about the price and the change, but Beletski

sent him away. Having mixed honey with wine in the glasses, and

having lavishly scattered the three pounds of spice-cakes on the

table, Beletski dragged the girls from their comers by force, made

them sit down at the table, and began distributing the cakes among

them. Olenin involuntarily noticed how Maryanka’s sunburnt but

small hand closed on two round peppermint nuts and one brown one,

and that she did not know what to do with them. The conversation

was halting and constrained, in spite of Ustenka’s and Beletski’s

free and easy manner and their wish to enliven the company. Olenin

faltered, and tried to think of something to say, feeling that he

was exciting curiosity and perhaps provoking ridicule and

infecting the others with his shyness. He blushed, and it seemed

to him that Maryanka in particular was feeling uncomfortable.

‘Most likely they are expecting us to give them some money,’

thought he. ‘How are we to do it? And how can we manage quickest

to give it and get away?’