ANTON CHEKHOV TRANSLATED BY PETER SEKIRIN y/ PEGASUS BOOKS NEW YORKWILLOW ave you ever traveled from B to C along the highway? ee If you have, you should remember the Andreevka mill that stands on the Kozavka River. It’s a small mill with only two millstones. It was built over a hundred years ago. It has not been operational for a long time, and reminds one of an old woman with a hunchback, who is going to fall over at any moment. This woman would have fallen to the ground a long time ago, except that an old willow tree supports her. The willow is so old and so wide that it takes two people to embrace it. Its shining leaves fall onto the roof and the bridge, and the lower branches fall onto the water and the ground. The willow is so old that it looks like a hunchback as well. The trunk of the tree is distorted by a huge dark hole. You can put your hand into the hole, and there you will find dark, wild honey. Wild bees start flying around your head, stinging you. 45ANTON CHEKHOV How old is this tree? Arkhip, my friend, told me that the tree was already old when he was working as “a French servant” for the local landlord. After that, he served as “a black servant” for the old landlady. That means it was a very long time ago. The willow tree supports another old creature. That is the old man, Arkhip, who sits at its trunk, fishing all day. He is old, and he also has a hunchback, like the tree. And, like the willow tree, his mouth has no teeth and looks like the hole. He fishes during the day, and at night he sits next to the tree, lost in dreams. Both of these creatures, Arkhip and the old willow, whisper day and night. They have lived for a long time, and they know many things. Just listen to them. Thirty years ago, on a Sunday morning the old man was sit- ting under the tree, looking at the water and fishing, It was quiet, as usual. You could hear only the whisper of the willow tree and the jumping of the fish, splashing in the water. He fished until noon. At noon he started cooking fish soup under the tree. When the shadow from the willow left the bank of the river, it was midday. Arkhip also measured time by postal delivery. Exactly at noon, a postal carriage would cross the bridge. On that Sunday, Arkhip heard the bells ringing. He put his fishing rod aside and looked at the bridge. The troika moved up the hill, chen down, and chen slowly went up to the bridge. The postman was asleep. When the troika came to the bridge, it stopped for no obvious reason. Arkhip was never surprised, but he was surprised this time. Something odd happened. The groom looked around, took the kerchief from the postman's face and hit him with a stick. The postman did not move. There was a red spot on his blond head. The driver jumped from the cart and struck another blow. In a moment, Arkhip heard some- body's footsteps. The driver was coming directly toward him, 46 a : | | ‘ a WILLOW down to the river. His sunburned face was pale, and his eyes were glassy. He was trembling all over, and, without noticing Arkhip, he put the mailbag into the hole in the tree. Then he ran up the hill, jumped into the cart, and did something that to Arkhip seemed very strange. He hit himself on the temple; then, his face covered with blood, he whipped the horses. “Help, robbers!” His words echoed across the valley for a long time. About six days later, police inspectors came to the bridge. They made a plan of the mill, a plan of the bridge; they meas- ured the depth of the river for some unknown reason, then they had dinner under the willow and left. All this time, Arkhip was sitting under the wheel of his mill trembling and looking at the bag. There, in the bag, he saw sev- eral envelopes with five seals each. He looked at the seals and checked them day and night. Looking at the willow tree, he thought that it was quiet by day and cried by night. “You willow, you are a stupid old woman,” said Arkhip to himself, listening to her cries. A week later, Arkhip went to the nearest town, with a bag on his shoulder. “Where is the police station around here?” he asked the first officers he met in the street. They showed him a big yellow building with a guard at the door. He went inside, and in the corridor he saw a man in a uni- form with bright buttons. The man was smoking a pipe and scolding a guard who had done something wrong. Arkhip came up to the man and, trembling all over, told him about the episode by the old willow tree. The official took the bag in his hands, opened it, blanched, and then blushed. “Wait,” he said, and went into another room. Suddenly, other officials surrounded him They were running around, 47ANTON CHEKHOV making noises, and whispering. Ten minutes later, the official brought the bag to Arkhip and said, “You have come to the wrong place, brother. You have to go to the Lower Street. This is the government accounting building. You have to go to the police.” Arkhip took the bag and left. “The bag is much lighter now,” he thought. “It’s only about half the weight.” At the Lower Street, they told him to go to another yellow house. Arkhip came in. There was no entrance hall, just the office room, with many desks. He came to one of the desks, and told his story. They tore the bag from his hands and called the senior offi- cial. A fat man with a mustache came. He interrogated Arkhip briefly, took the bag, and locked himself in his office. “Where is the money?” he heard from behind the door. “The bag is empty! Tell the old man he can go. No, tell him to stay. Let him in. Take him to Ivan Markovich. No, better let him go.” The old man bowed, said good-bye, and left. The next day, he went fishing, his gray beard reflected in the river. He caught perches and snappers. Soon it was fall. The old man was sitting with his fishing rod. His face was as grim as the yellow willow tree. He did not like fall. His face became even darker after he saw the driver. The driver, without noticing the old man, came to the willow and put his hand into the hole in the trunk. The wet, lazy bees climbed up his sleeve. He moved his hand here and there, and some time later he was sitting at the bank of the river, looking listlessly into the water. “Where is it?” he asked Arkhip. 48 ee sh ieinentesomeninnoreartonneonrananiGieetamnaituce WILLOW At first, Arkhip was silent. He looked gloomy and pretended not to notice the killer. But then he took pity on him. “I brought it to the officers,” he said. “But don’t be afraid, fool. 1 told them that I found it next to the willow tree, by accident.” The driver jumped to his feet, howled, and started beating Arkhip. He beat the old man for a long time. He struck him in the face, and after the old man fell to the ground, he kicked him. After he finished the beating, he did not go away, but stayed. And they lived at the mill together, Arkhip and the driver. During the day, the driver slept and was silent, and at night he walked on the bridge. The shadow of the postman also walked on the bridge, and he spoke to the shadow. Spring came, and the driver was still silent during the day and still walked on the bridge at night. One night, the old man came to him. “Stop walking about and loitering, you fool! Get a life! Get out of here!” he said to the driver, looking at the shadow of the postman, who was standing nearby. The postman said the same, and the willow whispered the same. “Tcan’t do that,” said the driver. “I would like to go away, but my soul is in pain and my feet are shaking; they are too weak.” Then the old man took the driver by the hand and brought him to the city. When he brought the driver to the same building at the Lower Street, where he had returned the bag, the driver knelt in front of the chief and confessed his sin. Then the man with the mustache looked at him in surprise and said, “Why are you accusing yourself of this? You fool! Are you 49ANTON CHEKHOV drunk? Do you want me to lock you in? You are a fool, making things up. We could not find the murderer, and that’s that. What do you want? Get out of here! Get lost!” When the old man reminded them of the bag, the mus- tached men started laughing, and all the other officers sitting in the room expressed their surprise. They had conveniently for- gotten about the bag. The driver could not confess his sins at the police station on. Lower Street, so he had to go back to the willow. He was tortured by his conscience, and therefore he jumped from the bridge into the water, exactly where Arkhip used to fish. The driver drowned himself. Now, at night the old man and the willow can see two shadows walking across the bridge. Do they whisper anything to each other? 50