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Title: The Poor People Author: Leo Tolstoy Date: 1908 Language: en Topics: fiction Source: Original text from http://www.revoltlib.com/?id=10687, 2021.
(Based on a story by Victor Hugo)
In a fishing hut, Jeanna, wife of a fisherman, sits by the fire and
repairs an old sail. Outside, the wind whistles and howls, and waves
rumble are splash and break against the shore. The yard is dark and
cold, the sea is storming, but it is warm and cozy in the fishing hut.
Earthen floor is swept cleanly; the fire is still on in the stove; clean
dishes glitter on the shelf. On the bed with lowered white canopy, five
children sleep with the sounds of the howls of stormy sea. The husband,
a fisher, since the morning went out on a boat trip in the sea and has
not return yet. The woman hears the rumble and the roar of the waves.
Jeanna is fearful.
Old wooden clock with a squeaky beat struck ten, eleven... Husband
hasn’t returned yet. Jeanna ponders. Her husband does not spare himself,
goes to catch fish in the chill and in the storm. She, from morning till
evening, is busy with her work. And so what? They barely feed
themselves. And kids still have no shoes, and run around barefoot both
is summer and in winter; and eat bread not even of wheat, but happy to
have enough of rye. The only seasonings to their food they have is fish.
“Well, thank God, children are healthy. There’s nothing to complain, —
th ink s Jeanna and again listens to the storm. — Where is he now? Dear
Lord, save him , save and have mercy!” — She says and crosses herself.
It’s too early to sleep yet. Jeanna rises, puts a thick shawl on her
head, lights up the lantern and goes outside to look, whether the sea
became quieter, whether it dawns, and whether there’s light at the
lighthouse, and whether she can see her husband’s boat. But you can’t
see anything in the sea. The wind is ripping off her shawl and with
something detached knocks on the door of the neighbor’s house, and
Jeanna remembers that since evening she wanted to go visit her ill
neighbor. “There is no one to look after her,” — Jeanna thought and
knocked at the door. Listened... Nobody answers.
“Bad is this widow’s business,” — thinks Jeanna, standing on the
doorstep. — “Although there are few children — only two, but still need
to take care of everything alone. And then there’s a disease! Ah, poor
widow’s case. I’ll come in to see her.”
Jeanna knocked again and again. No one answered.
— Hey, neighbor! — Jeanna screamed. “I hope nothing bad has happened,” —
she thought and pushed the door.
In the house it was damp and cold. Jeanna raised her lantern to examine
where the sick was. And the first thing her eyes caught was the bed
standing directly opposite the door, and on the bed was her neighbor,
lying on her back so quiet and motionless as only the dead lie. Jeanna
brought the lantern even closer. Yes, it’s her. The head is pivoted
backward; on a cold, bluish face was the calmness of death. Pale dead
hand, as if stretched for something, fell and hanged down. And
immediately, not far from the dead mother, two small children, curly and
plump-cheeked, covered with an old dress, slept, cowered and huddled
together with their blond heads. Apparently, mother, before dying, still
managed to wrap their legs with an old shawl and covered them with her
dress. They breathed evenly and quietly, slept sweetly and soundly.
Jeanna takes the cradle with children and, having wrapped them with a
scarf, carries them home. Her heart beats strongly; she doesn’t know how
or why she did it, but she knows that couldn’t not to do what she did.
At home, she puts sleepy children to bed with her own kids and hurriedly
lowers the canopy. She is pale and excited. It’s like her conscience
torments her. “What will he say? — She speaks to itself, — “It’s no
joke, five of their own children — he had enough of troubles to take
care of them. Is is him?.. No, not yet! And why did she only take them!
He’ll kill me! And rightly so, I deserve that. Here he is! No!.. Well,
thank God!”
The door squeaked, as if someone has entered. Jeanna gasped and rose
from her chair.
“No. Again there’s no one! My Lord, and why did I do it? How am I going
to look him in his eyes now?.. And Jeanna ponders and for long time sits
silently by the bedside.
The rain stopped; it dawned, but the wind still buzzes and the sea roars
as before.
Suddenly the door swung open, a whiff of fresh sea air entered the room,
and tall swarthy fisherman, dragging behind him a wet broken fishing
net, enters the room with the words:
— Here I am, Jeanna!
— Oh, it’s you! — Says Jeanna and stops, not daring to raise her eyes.
— Oh, what a night! Nightmare!
— Yes, yes, the weather was terrible! Well, how’s fishing?
— Rubbish, totally rubbish! Caught nothing. Only ripped the net. Bad,
bad!.. Yes, I’ll tell you, what the weather it was! I can’t remember a
night like this. Forget fishing! Thank God, I got home alive... Well,
and what did you do here without me?
Fisherman dragged the net into the room and sat down by the stove.
— Me? — Jeanna said, turning white. — What about me... I was sewing...
The wind was blowing so that it made me scared. Was afraid for you.
— Yes, yes, — muttered the husband, — the weather was pretty darn bad!
But what can you do!
They both went silent.
— You know, — said Jeanna, — our neighbor Simona has died.
— Really?
— And I do not know when; probably, even yesterday. Yes, it was a
difficult death for her — her heart ached for the children! After all,
she had two little children... One of them is not talking yet, and
another one is just starting to crawl.
Jeanna stopped. Fisherman frowned; his face became serious and worried.
— What a story! — He said, scratching his head. — Well, but what can you
do! We have to take them, because when they’ll wake up, how would they
feel near the deceased? That’s OK, we’ll manage somehow! Go then, hurry!
But Jeanna did not move from their seat.
— What’s up with you? Don’t you want to? What is wrong with you, Jeanna?
— Here they are, — said Jeanna and opened the canopy.