TARAS'S STORY.
The carriage in which Nekhludoff had taken his place was half filled with people. There were in it servants, working men, factory hands, butchers, Jews, shopmen, workmen's wives, a soldier, two ladies, a young one and an old one with bracelets on her arm, and a severe-looking gentleman with a cockade on his black cap. All these people were sitting quietly; the bustle of taking their places was long over; some sat cracking and eating sunflower seeds, some smoking, some talking.
Taras sat, looking very happy, opposite the door, keeping a place for Nekhludoff, and carrying on an animated conversation with a man in a cloth coat who sat opposite to him, and who was, as Nekhludoff afterwards found out, a gardener going to a new situation. Before reaching the place where Taras sat Nekhludoff stopped between the seats near a reverend-looking old man with a white beard and nankeen coat, who was talking with a young woman in peasant dress. A little girl of about seven, dressed in a new peasant costume, sat, her little legs dangling above the floor, by the side of the woman, and kept cracking seeds.
The old man turned round, and, seeing Nekhludoff, he moved the lappets of his coat off the varnished seat next to him, and said, in a friendly manner:
"Please, here's a seat."
Nekhludoff thanked him, and took the seat. As soon as he was seated the woman continued the interrupted conversation.
She was returning to her village, and related how her husband, whom she had been visiting, had received her in town.
"I was there during the carnival, and now, by the Lord's help, I've been again," she said. "Then, God willing, at Christmas I'll go again."
"That's right," said the old man, with a look at Nekhludoff, "it's the best way to go and see him, else a young man can easily go to the bad, living in a town."
"Oh, no, sir, mine is not such a man. No nonsense of any kind about him; his life is as good as a young maiden's. The money he earns he sends home all to a copeck. And, as to our girl here, he was so glad to see her, there are no words for it," said the woman, and smiled.
The little girl, who sat cracking her seeds and spitting out the shells, listened to her mother's words, and, as if to confirm them, looked up with calm, intelligent eyes into Nekhludoff's and the old man's faces.
"Well, if he's good, that's better still," said the old man. "And none of that sort of thing?" he added, with a look at a couple, evidently factory hands, who sat at the other side of the carriage. The husband, with his head thrown back, was pouring vodka down his throat out of a bottle, and the wife sat holding a bag, out of which they had taken the bottle, and watched him intently.
"No, mine neither drinks nor smokes," said the woman who was conversing with the old man, glad of the opportunity of praising her husband once more. "No, sir, the earth does not hold many such." And, turning to Nekhludoff, she added, "That's the sort of man he is."
"What could be better," said the old man, looking at the factory worker, who had had his drink and had passed the bottle to his wife. The wife laughed, shook her head, and also raised the bottle to her lips.
Noticing Nekhludoff's and the old man's look directed towards them, the factory worker addressed the former.
"What is it, sir? That we are drinking? Ah, no one sees how we work, but every one sees how we drink. I have earned it, and I am drinking and treating my wife, and no one else."
"Yes, yes," said Nekhludoff, not knowing what to say.
"True, sir. My wife is a steady woman. I am satisfied with my wife, because she can feel for me. Is it right what I'm saying, Mavra?"
"There you are, take it, I don't want any more," said the wife, returning the bottle to him. "And what are you jawing for like that?" she added.
"There now! She's good--that good; and suddenly she'll begin squeaking like a wheel that's not greased. Mavra, is it right what I'm saying?"
Mavra laughed and moved her hand with a tipsy gesture.
"Oh, my, he's at it again."
"There now, she's that good--that good; but let her get her tail over the reins, and you can't think what she'll be up to. . . . Is it right what I'm saying? You must excuse me, sir, I've had a drop! What's to be done?" said the factory worker, and, preparing to go to sleep, put his head in his wife's lap.
Nekhludoff sat a while with the old man, who told him all about himself. The old man was a stove builder, who had been working for 53 years, and had built so many stoves that he had lost count, and now he wanted to rest, but had no time. He had been to town and found employment for the young ones, and was now going to the country to see the people at home. After hearing the old man's story, Nekhludoff went to the place that Taras was keeping for him.
"It's all right, sir; sit down; we'll put the bag here," said the gardener, who sat opposite Taras, in a friendly tone, looking up into Nekhludoff's face.
"Rather a tight fit, but no matter since we are friends," said Taras, smiling, and lifting the bag, which weighed more than five stone, as if it were a feather, he carried it across to the window.
"Plenty of room; besides, we might stand up a bit; and even under the seat it's as comfortable as you could wish. What's the good of humbugging?" he said, beaming with friendliness and kindness.
Taras spoke of himself as being unable to utter a word when quite sober; but drink, he said, helped him to find the right words, and then he could express everything. And in reality, when he was sober Taras kept silent; but when he had been drinking, which happened rarely and only on special occasions, he became very pleasantly talkative. Then he spoke a great deal, spoke well and very simply and truthfully, and especially with great kindliness, which shone in his gentle, blue eyes and in the friendly smile that never left his lips. He was in such a state to-day. Nekhludoff's approach interrupted the conversation; but when he had put the bag in its place, Taras sat down again, and with his strong hands folded in his lap, and looking straight into the gardener's face, continued his story. He was telling his new acquaintance about his wife and giving every detail: what she was being sent to Siberia for, and why he was now following her. Nekhludoff had never heard a detailed account of this affair, and so he listened with interest. When he came up, the story had reached the point when the attempt to poison was already an accomplished fact, and the family had discovered that it was Theodosia's doing.
"It's about my troubles that I'm talking," said Taras, addressing Nekhludoff with cordial friendliness. "I have chanced to come across such a hearty man, and we've got into conversation, and I'm telling him all."
"I see," said Nekhludoff.
"Well, then in this way, my friend, the business became known. Mother, she takes that cake. 'I'm going,' says she, 'to the police officer.' My father is a just old man. 'Wait, wife,' says he, 'the little woman is a mere child, and did not herself know what she was doing. We must have pity. She may come to her senses.' But, dear me, mother would not hear of it. 'While we keep her here,' she says, 'she may destroy us all like cockroaches.' Well, friend, so she goes off for the police officer. He bounces in upon us at once. Calls for witnesses."
"Well, and you?" asked the gardener.
"Well, I, you see, friend, roll about with the pain in my stomach, and vomit. All my inside is turned inside out; I can't even speak. Well, so father he goes and harnesses the mare, and puts Theodosia into the cart, and is off to the police-station, and then to the magistrate's. And she, you know, just as she had done from the first, so also there, confesses all to the magistrate--where she got the arsenic, and how she kneaded the cake. 'Why did you do it?' says he. 'Why,' says she, 'because he's hateful to me. I prefer Siberia to a life with him.' That's me," and Taras smiled.
"Well, so she confessed all. Then, naturally--the *, and father returns alone. And harvest time just coming, and mother the only woman at home, and she no longer strong. So we think what we are to do. Could we not bail her out? So father went to see an official. No go. Then another. I think he went to five of them, and we thought of giving it up. Then we happened to come across a clerk--such an artful one as you don't often find. 'You give me five roubles, and I'll get her out,' says he. He agreed to do it for three. Well, and what do you think, friend? I went and pawned the linen she herself had woven, and gave him the money. As soon as he had written that paper," drawled out Taras, just as if he were speaking of a shot being fired, "we succeeded at once. I went to fetch her myself. Well, friend, so I got to town, put up the mare, took the paper, and went to the *. 'What do you want?' 'This is what I want,' say I, 'you've got my wife here in *.' 'And have you got a paper?' I gave him the paper. He gave it a look. 'Wait,' says he. So I sat down on a bench. It was already past noon by the sun. An official comes out. 'You are Vargoushoff?' 'I am.' 'Well, you may take her.' The gates opened, and they led her out in her own clothes quite all right. 'Well, come along. Have you come on foot?' 'No, I have the horse here.' So I went and paid the ostler, and harnessed, put in all the hay that was left, and covered it with sacking for her to sit on. She got in and wrapped her shawl round her, and off we drove. She says nothing and I say nothing. Just as we were coming up to the house she says, 'And how's mother; is she alive?' 'Yes, she's alive.' 'And father; is he alive? 'Yes, he is.' 'Forgive me, Taras,' she says, 'for my folly. I did not myself know what I was doing.' So I say, 'Words won't mend matters. I have forgiven you long ago,' and I said no more. We got home, and she just fell at mother's feet. Mother says, 'The Lord will forgive you.' And father said, 'How d'you do?' and 'What's past is past. Live as best you can. Now,' says he, 'is not the time for all that; there's the harvest to be gathered in down at Skorodino,' he says. 'Down on the manured acre, by the Lord's help, the ground has borne such rye that the sickle can't tackle it. It's all interwoven and heavy, and has sunk beneath its weight; that must be reaped. You and Taras had better go and see to it to-morrow.' Well, friend, from that moment she took to the work and worked so that every one wondered. At that time we rented three desiatins, and by God's help we had a wonderful crop both of oats and rye. I mow and she binds the sheaves, and sometimes we both of us reap. I am good at work and not afraid of it, but she's better still at whatever she takes up. She's a smart woman, young, and full of life; and as to work, friend, she'd grown that eager that I had to stop her. We get home, our fingers swollen, our arms aching, and she, instead of resting, rushes off to the barn to make binders for the sheaves for next day. Such a change!"
"Well, and to you? Was she kinder, now?" asked the gardener.
"That's beyond question. She clings to me as if we were one soul. Whatever I think she understands. Even mother, angry as she was, could not help saying: 'It's as if our Theodosia had been transformed; she's quite a different woman now!' We were once going to cart the sheaves with two carts. She and I were in the first, and I say, 'How could you think of doing that, Theodosia?' and she says, 'How could I think of it? just so, I did not wish to live with you. I thought I'd rather die than live with you!' I say, 'And now?' and she says, 'Now you're in my heart!'" Taras stopped, and smiled joyfully, shook his head as if surprised. "Hardly had we got the harvest home when I went to soak the hemp, and when I got home there was a summons, she must go to be tried, and we had forgotten all about the matter that she was to be tried for."
"It can only be the evil one," said the gardener. "Could any man of himself think of destroying a living soul? We had a fellow once--" and the gardener was about to commence his tale when the train began to stop.
"It seems we are coming to a station," he said. "I'll go and have a drink."
The conversation stopped, and Nekhludoff followed the gardener out of the carriage onto the wet platform of the station.
聂赫留朵夫所乘的那节车厢只有半车旅客。其中有仆役、工匠、工厂工人、肉店老板、犹太人、店员、妇女、工人的妻子，还有一个士兵，两个贵夫人，其中一个年轻，另一个上了年纪，一裸一露的手臂上戴着几只手镯。另外还有一个脸色严峻的老爷，头戴黑制帽，帽子上有个帽徽。这些人都已找到了座位，怡然自得地坐着，有的在嗑葵花子，有的在吸烟，有的兴致勃勃地同邻座闲聊。
塔拉斯得意扬扬地坐在过道右边的长椅上，给聂赫留朵夫留着一个座位。他兴致勃勃地跟对面一个乘客谈着话。那人敞着乡下的粗呢上装，肌肉发达。聂赫留朵夫后来知道他是个花匠，正乘车到外地去工作。聂赫留朵夫还没有走到塔拉斯跟前，就在一个神态庄重的老头儿旁边站住。那老人留着雪白的大一胡一子，身穿腰部打褶的土布长袍，正在同一个乡下装束的年轻女人一交一谈。这女人旁边坐着一个七岁光景的小姑一娘一。小姑一娘一身穿一件崭新的无袖长衫，淡得近乎白色的头发扎成一根辫子，她的脚离地很远，嘴里不停地嗑着葵花子。老人回过头来瞧了聂赫留朵夫一眼，掖起长袍前摆，在磨得发亮的长椅上腾出一个位子，亲切地说：
“您请坐吧。”
聂赫留朵夫道了谢，在指定的位子上坐下。聂赫留朵夫刚坐下，那女人就继续讲她的事。她讲到她丈夫在城里怎样招待她，现在她回乡下去。
“上次谢肉节①，托上帝的福，去过一次。这会儿又去了一次，”她说，“到圣诞节，求上帝保佑，还能再去一次。”
“这是好事，”老人瞅着聂赫留朵夫，说，“你得常去看看他，要不然年轻人单独住在城里，容易变坏。”
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①基督教节日，一般在大斋前三天举行。
“不，老大爷，我们当家的可不是那种人。他从来不做蠢事，简直象个大姑一娘一。挣到的钱全部寄回家，自己一个子儿也不留。他挺喜欢这丫头，别提有多喜欢了，”女人笑眯眯地说。
小姑一娘一一面吐着葵花子壳，一面听母亲说话，仿佛在证实母亲的话。她那双聪明文静的眼睛瞧瞧老人的脸，又瞧瞧聂赫留朵夫的脸。
“看来是个聪明人，再好也没有了，”老人说。“那么，他不来这玩意儿吗？”他补了一句，用眼睛示意坐在过道另一边的一对夫妇。他们大概都是厂里的工人。
做丈夫的把一瓶伏特加的瓶口对住嘴，仰起头，喝着酒；
做妻子的拿着装酒瓶的袋子，眼睛盯住丈夫。
“不，我们当家的不喝酒，也不一抽一烟，”同老人谈话的那个女人说，抓住机会再次夸奖丈夫。“象他那样的人，老大爷，可以说天下少有。喏，他就是这样的人，”她又转过身来对聂赫留朵夫说。
“那再好也没有了，”老头儿瞧了瞧喝酒的工人，又说。
那工人凑着酒瓶喝了好几口，就把酒瓶递给妻子。妻子接过酒瓶，笑着摇摇头，也把瓶口对准自己的嘴。工人发觉聂赫留朵夫和老头儿瞧着他，就回过头来对他们说：
“怎么了，老爷？瞧我们喝酒吗？我们干活，谁也没有看见；如今一喝酒，大家都看见了。我干活挣了钱，自己喝一点儿，也让老婆喝一点儿。没有别的了。”
“是啊，是啊，”聂赫留朵夫说，不知该怎样回答才好。
“我说的对不对，老爷？我老婆是个稳重的女人！我对她很满意，因为她会疼我。我说得对吗，玛芙拉？”
“喏，拿去吧。我不想再喝了，”妻子把酒瓶递给他说。
“你在罗唆什么呀？”她添了一句。
“瞧，她就是这样的，”工人接着说，“她一会儿挺好，一会儿又象没上过油的大车，吱吱嘎嘎地闹个不停。玛芙拉，我说得对吗？”
玛芙拉一面笑，一面带着酒意挥了挥手。
“嗐，他又瞎扯起来……”
“嗯，她就是这样的。好是好，可只是一时的。一旦发起牛脾气来，什么事都干得出……我说的可是实话。老爷，您可得包涵着点。我喝了点酒，嗯，可是有什么办法……”工人说着躺下来睡觉，把头枕在笑盈盈的妻子的膝盖上。
聂赫留朵夫又跟老头儿一起坐了一阵。老头儿讲到他的身世，说他是个砌炉匠，干了五十三年活，这辈子砌的炉子数也数不清，想休息一下，可总是没有工夫。这回他在城里，给孩子们找了工作，现在回乡去看看家里人。聂赫留朵夫听完老头儿的话，站起来，往塔拉斯给他留的座位那边走去。
“哦，老爷，您坐。我们把袋子挪到这儿来，”坐在塔拉斯对面的花匠抬起头来瞅了瞅聂赫留朵夫的脸，亲切地说。
“不怕受挤，就怕受气，”塔拉斯笑嘻嘻地用唱歌般声音说，然后伸出两条强壮的胳膊把两普特重的袋子象鸿一毛一似地轻轻举起来，搬到窗口。“地方有的是，站站也可以，钻到椅子底下去也行。这儿可是太平无事，没有人吵架！”他满面笑容，和蔼可亲地说。
塔拉斯讲到他自己时说，他不喝酒就没有话说；一喝酒，话就可以滔一滔一不一绝地说个没完。的确，塔拉斯清醒的时候总是沉默寡言，可是喝了点酒——这在他是很难得的，只有逢到特殊情况时才喝，——就特别喜欢说话。他一开口，总是讲得很多，很有意思，而且非常朴素，非常真诚，尤其是非常亲切，他那双善良的浅蓝色眼睛和殷勤含笑的嘴唇总是洋溢着亲切的情意。
今天他就处在这样的状态。聂赫留朵夫走过来，他暂时住了口。但他把袋子放好后，就照原来那样坐下，把两只经常劳动的有力的手放在膝盖上，直瞧着花匠的眼睛，继续讲他的事。他向这位新朋友详详细细地讲他妻子被判刑的始末，讲她为什么被流放，他现在为什么跟她一起到西伯利亚去。
聂赫留朵夫从来没有听过这事的前后经过，因此全神贯注地听着。他听的时候，塔拉斯刚讲到下毒的事已发生，家里人都知道那是费多霞干的。
“我这是在讲我的伤心事，”塔拉斯和蔼可亲地对聂赫留朵夫说。“碰到这样一位热心朋友，我们就攀谈起来，我也就讲讲我的事。”
“好哇，好哇，”聂赫留朵夫说。
“嗯，大哥，这件事就这样暴露了。我一妈一当时拿着那块饼说：
‘我去找警察。’我爹是个通情达理的老头儿。他说：‘慢着，老太婆，这小一娘一们还是个娃娃，她自己也不知道干的是什么，咱们得原谅她。说不定她会明白过来的。’可是有什么用，我一妈一一句话也听不进去。她说：‘要是咱们把她留下，她就会把咱们象蟑螂那样统统毒死的。’大哥，她说完就跑去找警察，警察一下子冲到我们家里……一下子就把证人都传了去。”
“那么，你当时怎么样呢？”花匠问。
“我吗，大哥，肚子痛得直打滚，嘴里吐个不停，吐得五脏六腑都翻过来，一句话也说不出。我爹马上套好车，叫费多霞坐上去，就赶到警察局，又从警察局到法官那儿。她呢，大哥，一开头就全部认了罪，后来又向法官一五一十招供了。她从什么地方弄到砒霜，怎样把它一揉一进饼里。法官问她：‘你为什么要干这样的事？’她回答说：‘因为我讨厌他呗。我情愿到西伯利亚去，也不愿跟他一块儿过。’她这是说不愿跟我一块儿过，”塔拉斯笑着说。“她就这样完全认了罪。不消说，她被关进牢里。我爹一个人回来了。这时正好是农忙时节，我们家的婆一娘一只我一妈一一个，她又没有力气。我们合计了一下，该怎么办，能不能取个保把她保出来。我爹去找一个长官，不成，又去找一个，还是不成。他一口气找了总有五个长官。我们打算不再奔走，不料碰到了一个人，是官府里的一名小官。那家伙可机灵了，真是天下少见。他说：‘给我五个卢布，我就把她保出来。’我爹同他讲价钱，结果讲定三个卢布。好吧，大哥，我就把她织的土布押出去，把钱给了他。他拿起笔来这么嚓嚓一写，”塔拉斯拖长音说，仿佛讲到开槍似的，“一下子就写好了。我当时已经起一床一，就亲自驾车去接她。大哥，我这就来到城里。我把我那匹母马拴在客店里，拿起公事，一口气走到*。他们问我：‘你有什么事？’我就一五一十地说了一遍，说我老婆关在你们这里。他们问我：‘你有没有公事？’我就马上把公事递给他。他看了一下，说：‘你等一等。’我就在一条长凳上坐下来。太一陽一已经过头顶了。有个长官走出来问：‘你就是瓦尔古肖夫吗？’我说：‘我就是。’他说：‘好，你把她领回去吧。’他们立刻把牢门打开。她穿着自己的衣服，整整齐齐的，被押了出来，我就说：‘行了，咱们走吧。’她却问我说：‘你难道是走来的吗？’我说：‘不，我是赶车来的。’我们一起走到客店，算清了帐，把马套一上车，把马吃剩下来的干草铺在车上，上面再盖一块麻布。我老婆坐到车上，扎上头巾。我们就坐车回家。她一路上不开口，我也不作声。直到快到家了，她才问：‘那么，一妈一没事吧？’我说：‘没事。’她又问：‘那么，爹没事吧？’我说：‘没事。’她对我说：‘塔拉斯，我干了傻事，你原谅我吧！我自己也说不出，怎么会干出这样的事来。’我就说：‘还说这些干什么，我早就原谅你了。’我也就不再说什么。我们一回到家里，她就在我一妈一面前下了跪。我一妈一说：‘去求上帝宽恕吧！’我爹跟她打过招呼说：‘干吗再提那些旧事。好好过日子吧。眼下也没有工夫说那些，该下地收庄稼了。在斯科罗德诺耶那里，那块上过肥的黑麦地，上帝保佑，长势可好了，镰刀都插不进去，麦穗同麦穗纠结在一起，都倒在地里。得收割了。明天你就跟塔拉斯一起去割吧。’大哥，她就立刻动手干活。她干得可卖力了，简直叫人吃惊。当时我们家租了三亩地，上帝保佑，黑麦也罢，燕麦也罢，都是少见的好收成。我割麦，她打捆，要不我们俩就一起割。我干活利索，干什么都错不了。她呢，不论干什么活，比我还利索。我老婆年纪轻，手脚灵活，浑身是劲。大哥，她干活简直不要命，我只好劝她停一停。我们干完活回家，手指头都肿了，胳膊酸痛，该歇一会儿才是，可是她晚饭也不吃，就跑到仓库里，去打第二天用的草绳。她可真是变了样！”
“那么，她跟你亲一热了吗？”花匠问。
“那还用说，她跟我可真是太贴心了。我心里想点什么，她都清楚。我一妈一对她原是一肚子气，可连她也说：‘我们的费多霞好象让人掉了包，都变了个人了。’有一次我们俩赶两辆车去装麦捆，我跟她一起坐前面那辆车。我就问她：‘费多霞，当初你怎么会干出那种事来？’她回答说：‘我怎么会干出那种事来？就是不愿跟你一块儿过。我想，我情愿死，也不愿跟你一起过。’我就说：‘那么现在呢？’她说：‘现在吗，现在你可变成我的心上人了。’”塔拉斯停了停，现出快乐的笑容，困惑地摇摇头。“我们从地里收割回来，把大麻泡在水里，刚回到家，”他沉默了一下，接下去说，“没想到，传票来了，要开庭审判。可我们已经忘记为什么要开庭审判。”
“这准是鬼附上身了，不会是别的，”花匠说，“难道一个人自己会无缘无故去害死人吗？对了，我们那儿有过这样一个人……”花匠刚要讲故事，可是火车停了下来。
“准是到站了，”他说，”最好下去喝点什么。”
谈话到此中断。聂赫留朵夫跟着花匠走出车厢，来到湿一漉一漉的木板站台上。
