The Power of Darkness by Leo Tolstoy (best reads of all time .TXT) 📕

fence. Akoulína The shirts? But maybe you’ll not go. He’s given the order. Anísya Didn’t I say I’d go? Where’s Nan? Akoulína Nan? Minding the calves. Anísya Send her here. I dare say they’ll not run away. Akoulína collects the clothes, and exit. Anísya If one doesn’t go he’ll scold. If one goes he’ll give the money to his sister. All my trouble will be wasted. I don’t myself know what I’m to do. My poor head’s splitting. Continues to work. Enter Matryóna, with a stick and a bundle, in outdoor clothes. Matryóna May the Lord help you, honey. Anísya Looks round, stops working, and claps her hands with joy. Well, I never expected this! Mother Matryóna, God has sent the right guest at the right time. Matryóna Well, how are things? Anísya Ah, I’m driven well-nigh crazy. It’s awful! Matryóna Well, still alive, I hear? Anísya Oh, don’t talk about it. He doesn’t live and doesn’t die! Matryóna But the money⁠—has he given it to anybody? Anísya He’s just sending for his sister Martha⁠—probably about the money. Matryóna Well, naturally! But hasn’t he given it to anyone else? Anísya To no one. I watch like a hawk. Matryóna And where is it? Anísya He doesn’t let out. And I can’t find out in any way. He hides it now here, now there, and I can’t do anything because of Akoulína. Idiot though she is, she keeps watch, and is always about. Oh my poor head! I’m bothered to death. Matryóna Oh, my jewel, if he gives the money to anyone but you, you’ll never cease regretting it as long as you live! They’ll turn you out of house and home without anything. You’ve been worriting, and worriting all your life with one you don’t love, and will have to go a-begging when you are a widow. Anísya No need to tell me, mother. My heart’s that weary, and I don’t know what to do. No one to get a bit of advice from. I told Nikíta, but he’s frightened of the job. The only thing he did was to tell me yesterday it was hidden under the floor. Matryóna Well, and did you look there? Anísya I couldn’t. The old man himself was in the room. I notice that sometimes he carries it about on him, and sometimes he hides it. Matryóna But you, my lass, must remember that if once he gives you the slip there’s no getting it right again! Whispering. Well, and did you give him the strong tea? Anísya Oh! oh!⁠ ⁠… About to answer, but sees neighbour and stops. The neighbour (a woman) passes the hut, and listens to a call from within. Neighbour To Anísya. I say, Anísya! Eh, Anísya! There’s your old man calling, I think. Anísya That’s the way he always coughs⁠—just as if he were screaming. He’s getting very bad. Neighbour Approaches Matryóna. How do you do, granny? Have you come far? Matryóna Straight from home, dear. Come to see my son. Brought him some shirts⁠—can’t help thinking of these things, you see, when it’s one’s own child. Neighbour Yes, that’s always so. To Anísya. And I was thinking of beginning to bleach the linen, but it is a bit early, no one has begun yet. Anísya Where’s the hurry? Matryóna Well, and has he had communion? Anísya Oh dear yes, the priest was here yesterday. Neighbour I had a look at him yesterday. Dearie me! one wonders his body and soul keep together. And, O Lord, the other day he seemed just at his last gasp, so that they laid him under the holy icons.1 They started lamenting and got ready to lay him out. Anísya He came to, and creeps about again. Matryóna Well, and is he to have extreme unction? Anísya The neighbours advise it. If he lives till tomorrow we’ll send for the priest. Neighbour Oh, Anísya dear, I should think your heart must be heavy. As the saying goes, “Not he is sick that’s ill in bed, but he that sits and waits in dread.” Anísya Yes, if it were only over one way or other! Neighbour Yes, that’s true, dying for a year, it’s no joke. You’re bound hand and foot like that. Matryóna Ah, but a widow’s lot is also bitter. It’s all right as long as one’s young, but who’ll care for you when you’re old? Oh yes, old age is not pleasure. Just look at me. I’ve not walked very far, and yet am so footsore I don’t know how to stand. Where’s my son? Anísya Ploughing. But you come in and we’ll get the samovar ready; the tea’ll set you up again. Matryóna Sitting down. Yes, it’s true, I’m quite done up, my dears. As to extreme unction, that’s absolutely necessary. Besides, they say it’s good for the soul. Anísya Yes, we’ll send tomorrow. Matryóna Yes, you had better. And we’ve had a wedding down in our parts. Neighbour What, in spring?2 Matryóna Ah, now if it were a poor man, then, as the saying is, it’s always unseasonable for a poor man to marry. But it’s Simon Matvéyitch, he’s married that Marína. Anísya What luck for her! Neighbour He’s a widower. I suppose there are children? Matryóna Four of ’em. What decent girl would have him! Well, so he’s taken her, and she’s glad. You see, the vessel was not sound, so the wine trickled out. Neighbour Oh my! And what do people say to it? And he, a rich peasant! Matryóna They are living well enough so far. Neighbour Yes, it’s true enough. Who wants to marry where there are children? There now, there’s our Michael. He’s such a fellow, dear me⁠ ⁠… Peasant’s Voice Hullo, Mávra. Where the devil are you? Go and drive the cow in. Exit Neighbour. Matryóna While the Neighbour is within hearing speaks in her ordinary voice. Yes, lass, thank goodness, she’s married. At any rate my old fool won’t go bothering about Nikíta. Now suddenly changing her tone, she’s gone! Whispers. I say, did you give him the tea? Anísya Don’t speak about it. He’d better die of himself. It’s no use⁠—he doesn’t