MASLOVA'S AUNT.
Nekhludoff felt more at case with the boys than with the grown-up people, and he began talking to them as they went along. The little one with the pink shirt stopped laughing, and spoke as sensibly and as exactly as the elder one.
"Can you tell me who are the poorest people you have got here?" asked Nekhludoff.
"The poorest? Michael is poor, Simon Makhroff, and Martha, she is very poor."
"And Anisia, she is still poorer; she's not even got a cow. They go begging," said little Fedka.
"She's not got a cow, but they are only three persons, and Martha's family are five," objected the elder boy.
"But the other's a widow," the pink boy said, standing up for Anisia.
"You say Anisia is a widow, and Martha is no better than a widow," said the elder boy; "she's also no husband."
"And where is her husband?" Nekhludoff asked.
"Feeding vermin in *," said the elder boy, using this expression, common among the peasants.
"A year ago he cut down two birch trees in the land-lord's forest," the little pink boy hurried to say, "so he was locked up; now he's sitting the sixth month there, and the wife goes begging. There are three children and a sick grandmother," he went on with his detailed account.
"And where does she live?" Nekhludoff asked.
"In this very house," answered the boy, pointing to a hut, in front of which, on the footpath along which Nekhludoff was walking, a tiny, flaxen-headed infant stood balancing himself with difficulty on his rickety legs.
"Vaska! Where's the little scamp got to?" shouted a woman, with a dirty grey blouse, and a frightened look, as she ran out of the house, and, rushing forward, seized the baby before Nekhludoff came up to it, and carried it in, just as if she were afraid that Nekhludoff would hurt her child.
This was the woman whose husband was im*ed for Nekhludoff's birch trees.
"Well, and this Matrona, is she also poor?" Nekhludoff asked, as they came up to Matrona's house.
"She poor? No. Why, she sells spirits," the thin, pink little boy answered decidedly.
When they reached the house Nekhludoff left the boys outside and went through the passage into the hut. The hut was 14 feet long. The bed that stood behind the big stove was not long enough for a tall person to stretch out on. "And on this very bed," Nekhludoff thought, "Katusha bore her baby and lay ill afterwards." The greater part of the hut was taken up by a loom, on which the old woman and her eldest granddaughter were arranging the warp when Nekhludoff came in, striking his forehead against the low doorway. Two other grandchildren came rushing in after Nekhludoff, and stopped, holding on to the lintels of the door.
"Whom do you want?" asked the old woman, crossly. She was in a bad temper because she could not manage to get the warp right, and, besides, carrying on an illicit trade in spirits, she was always afraid when any stranger came in.
"I am--the owner of the neighbouring estates, and should like to speak to you."
"Dear me; why, it's you, my honey; and I, fool, thought it was just some passer-by. Dear me, you--it's you, my precious," said the old woman, with simulated tenderness in her voice.
"I should like to speak to you alone," said Nekhludoff, with a glance towards the door, where the children were standing, and behind them a woman holding a wasted, pale baby, with a sickly smile on its face, who had a little cap made of different bits of stuff on its head.
"What are you staring at? I'll give it you. Just hand me my crutch," the old woman shouted to those at the door.
"Shut the door, will you!" The children went away, and the woman closed the door.
"And I was thinking, who's that? And it's 'the master' himself. My jewel, my treasure. Just think," said the old woman, "where he has deigned to come. Sit down here, your honour," she said, wiping the seat with her apron. "And I was thinking what devil is it coming in, and it's your honour, 'the master' himself, the good gentleman, our benefactor. Forgive me, old fool that I am; I'm getting blind."
Nekhludoff sat down, and the old woman stood in front of him, leaning her cheek on her right hand, while the left held up the sharp elbow of her right arm.
"Dear me, you have grown old, your honour; and you used to be as fresh as a daisy. And now! Cares also, I expect?"
"This is what I have come about: Do you remember Katusha Maslova?"
"Katerina? I should think so. Why, she is my niece. How could I help remembering; and the tears I have shed because of her. Why, I know all about it. Eh, sir, who has not sinned before God? who has not offended against the Tsar? We know what youth is. You used to be drinking tea and coffee, so the devil got hold of you. He is strong at times. What's to be done? Now, if you had chucked her; but no, just see how you rewarded her, gave her a hundred roubles. And she? What has she done? Had she but listened to me she might have lived all right. I must say the truth, though she is my niece: that girl's no good. What a good place I found her! She would not submit, but abused her master. Is it for the likes of us to scold gentlefolk? Well, she was sent away. And then at the forester's. She might have lived there; but no, she would not."
"I want to know about the child. She was confined at your house, was she not? Where's the child?"
"As to the child, I considered that well at the time. She was so bad I never thought she would get up again. Well, so I christened the baby quite properly, and we sent it to the Foundlings'. Why should one let an innocent soul languish when the mother is dying? Others do like this: they just leave the baby, don't feed it, and it wastes away. But, thinks I, no; I'd rather take some trouble, and send it to the Foundlings'. There was money enough, so I sent it off."
"Did you not get its registration number from the Foundlings' Hospital?"
"Yes, there was a number, but the baby died," she said. "It died as soon as she brought it there."
"Who is she?"
"That same woman who used to live in Skorodno. She made a business of it. Her name was Malania. She's dead now. She was a wise woman. What do you think she used to do? They'd bring her a baby, and she'd keep it and feed it; and she'd feed it until she had enough of them to take to the Foundlings'. When she had three or four, she'd take them all at once. She had such a clever arrangement, a sort of big cradle--a double one she could put them in one way or the other. It had a handle. So she'd put four of them in, feet to feet and the heads apart, so that they should not knock against each other. And so she took four at once. She'd put some pap in a rag into their mouths to keep 'em silent, the pets."
"Well, go on."
"Well, she took Katerina's baby in the same way, after keeping it a fortnight, I believe. It was in her house it began to sicken."
"And was it a fine baby?" Nekhludoff asked.
"Such a baby, that if you wanted a finer you could not find one. Your very image," the old woman added, with a wink.
"Why did it sicken? Was the food bad?"
"Eh, what food? Only just a pretence of food. Naturally, when it's not one's own child. Only enough to get it there alive. She said she just managed to get it to Moscow, and there it died. She brought a certificate--all in order. She was such a wise woman."
That was all Nekhludoff could find out concerning his child.
聂赫留朵夫觉得同孩子们一起比同大人一起自在得多。他一路上同他们随便聊天。穿粉一红衬衫的小男孩不再笑，却象那个大孩子一样懂事地说话。
“那么，你们村里谁家最穷啊？”聂赫留朵夫问。
“谁家穷？米哈伊拉穷，谢苗·玛卡罗夫穷，还有玛尔法也穷得要命。”
“还有阿尼霞，她还要穷。阿尼霞连母牛都没有一头，他们在要饭呢，”小费吉卡说。
“她没有牛，但他们家总共才三个人，可玛尔法家有五个人呢，”大孩子反驳说。
“可阿尼霞到底是个寡一妇哇，”穿粉一红衬衫的男孩坚持自己的意见。
“你说阿尼霞是寡一妇，人家玛尔法也同寡一妇一样，”大孩子接着说。“同寡一妇一样，她丈夫不在家。”
“她丈夫在哪里？”聂赫留朵夫问。
“蹲监牢，喂虱子，”大孩子用老百姓惯常的说法回答。
“去年夏天他在东家树林里砍了两棵小桦树，就被送去坐牢，”穿粉一红衬衫的男孩赶紧说。“到如今都关了有五个多月了，他老婆在要饭，还有三个孩子，一个害病的老太婆，”他详详细细地说。
“她住在哪儿？”聂赫留朵夫问。
“喏，就住在这个院子里，”男孩指着一所房子说。房子前面有一个非常瘦小的淡黄头发男孩。那孩子生着一双罗圈腿，身一子摇摇晃晃，站在聂赫留朵夫走着的那条小路上。
“华西卡，你这淘气鬼，跑到哪儿去了？”一个穿着脏得象沾满炉灰的布衫的女人从小屋里跑出来，大声叫道。她神色惊惶地跑到聂赫留朵夫前面，一把抱起孩子就往屋里跑，仿佛怕聂赫留朵夫会欺负他似的。
这就是刚才说到的那个女人，她的丈夫因为砍伐聂赫留朵夫家树林里的小桦树而坐牢。
“那么，玛特廖娜呢，她穷吗？”聂赫留朵夫问，这时他们已经走近玛特廖娜的小屋。
“她穷什么？她在卖酒，”穿粉一红衬衫的瘦男孩断然回答。
聂赫留朵夫走到玛特廖娜小屋跟前，把两个孩子打发走，自己走进门廊，又来到屋子里。玛特廖娜老婆子的小屋只有六俄尺长，要是高个子躺到炉子后面的一床一上，就无法伸直身一子。聂赫留朵夫心里想：“卡秋莎就是在这张一床一上生了孩子，后来又害了病的。”玛特廖娜的整个小屋几乎被一架织布机占满。老婆子和她的孙女正在修理织布机。聂赫留朵夫进门时，头在门楣上撞了一下。另外两个孩子紧跟着东家冲进小屋，小手抓住门框，站在他后面。
“你找谁？”老婆子因织布机出了一毛一病，心里很不高兴，怒气冲冲地问。再说，她贩卖私酒，见了陌生人就害怕。
“我是地主。我想跟您谈谈。”
老婆子不吭声，仔细对他瞧了瞧，脸色顿时变了。
“啊呀，我的好人儿，我这傻瓜可没认出你来呀，我还以为是什么过路人呢，”玛特廖娜装出亲一热的口气说。“哎哟，我的好老爷呀……”
“我想跟您单独谈谈，最好不要有外人在场，”聂赫留朵夫望着打开的门说。门口站着几个孩子，孩子后面站着一个瘦女人。她手里抱着一个脸色苍白的娃娃。那娃娃十分虚弱，但一直笑嘻嘻的，头上戴着一顶碎布缝成的小圆帽。
“有什么好看的，我来让你们知道厉害，把拐杖给我！”老婆子对站在门口的人嚷道。“把门关上，听见没有！”
孩子们都走了，抱娃娃的女人把房门关上。
“我正在琢磨：这是谁来了？原来是老爷，是我们的金子宝贝，百看不厌的美男子！”老婆子说。“你怎么光临我们这个穷地方了，也不嫌这儿脏。啊，你真象金刚钻一样好看！来吧，老爷，这儿坐，就坐在这个矮柜上吧，”她说着用围裙擦擦矮柜。“我还以为是哪个鬼溜进来了，原来是东家，是好老爷，是恩人，是养活我们的好人。你可得原谅我这老糊涂，是我瞎了眼了。”
聂赫留朵夫坐下来。老婆子站在他面前，右手托住脸颊，左手抓住尖尖的右臂肘，用唱歌一般的声音讲起来：
“老爷，你也见老了。想当年你真是棵鲜一嫩鲜一嫩的牛蒡，可是现在呢，简直认不出来了！你准是太一操一心了。”
“我是来向你打听一件事的，你还记得卡秋莎·玛丝洛娃吗？”
“卡吉琳娜吗？怎么不记得，她是我的外甥女……怎么不记得，我为了她流过多少眼泪，流过多少眼泪！那件事我全知道。我的老爷，谁在上帝面前没有作过孽？谁在皇上面前没有犯过法？年轻人嘛，就是这样的，再加喝了咖啡红茶，就让魔鬼迷了心窍。要知道，魔鬼可厉害了。有什么办法呢！你又没有把她扔掉，你赏了她钱，给了她整整一百卢布。可她干了什么啦？她就是糊涂，没有头脑。她要是听了我的话，也就会过日子了。她虽是我的外甥女，我得直说，这姑一娘一不走正道。我后来给她安排了一个多好的差使，可她不听话，竟然骂起东家来了。难道我们这等人可以骂老爷吗？嗐，人家就把她辞掉了。后来又到林务官家里干，日子本来也过得去，可她又不干了。”
“我想打听一下那孩子的情况。她不是在您这儿生了个孩子吗？那孩子在哪儿？”
“当年为了那娃娃我费了不少心思，我的好老爷。她那时病得可厉害，我料想她再也起不了一床一了。我就照规矩给孩子受了洗，把他送到育婴堂。嗯，做母亲的眼看就要死了，何必叫这小宝贝的灵魂受罪呢。换了别人，就会把娃娃撂下不管，也不会给他吃，让他死去算了。可我想还是花点力气，把他送育婴堂吧。好在还有几个钱，就打发人把他送了去。”
“有登记号码吗？”
“号码是有的，可他当时就死了。她说刚一送到，他就死了。”
“她是谁？”
“就是住在斯科罗德诺耶村的那个女人。她专干这个行当。她叫玛拉尼雅，现在死了。这女人可聪明啦，干得挺灵巧！人家把娃娃送到她家里，她就收下来养在家里，喂他吃。喂了一阵子，另外凑几个再送去。咳，我的好老爷！等凑满三四个，一起送去。她干这事可聪明了：先做一个大摇篮，好象双层一床一，上一上一下一下都装娃娃。摇篮上还有把手。她就这样一下子装四个娃娃，让他们脚对着脚，脑袋不挨着脑袋，免得相碰，这样一次就送走四个。她还用几个假一奶一头塞在娃娃嘴里，这样他们就不会吵了。”
“后来怎么样？”
“后来，卡吉琳娜的娃娃就这么被送走了。她在家里把他养了两个礼拜的样子。那娃娃在她家里就害病了。”
“那娃娃长得好看吗？”聂赫留朵夫问。
“好看极了，再也找不着比他更好看的娃娃了。长得跟你一模一样，”老太婆一只眼睛眨了眨，说。
“他怎么会这样弱？多半是喂得很差吧？”
“哪里谈得上喂！只不过做做样子罢了。这也难怪，又不是自己的孩子。只要送到的时候活着就行。那女人说刚把他送到莫斯科，他就断气了。她连证明都带回来了，手续齐备，真是个聪明女人。”
关于他的孩子，聂赫留朵夫就只打听到这些。
