blood. It only causes my conscience to suffer deeply. I think Nadzeya feels the same way.”
“But I was told that Miss Nadzeya is the only one of the Yanovskys.”
“That’s really so, yes. I am a very distant relative, and also, I was thought to be dead. It’s been five years since I’ve visited Marsh Firs, and now I’m 23. My father sent me away because at the age of eighteen I was dying of love for a thirteen year old girl. As a matter of fact that was unimportant, we’d have had to wait only two years, but my father believed in the power of the ancient curse.”
“Well, did the banishment help you?” I asked.
“Not a bit. Moreover, two meetings were sufficient for me to understand that the former adoration had grown into love.”
“And how does Nadzeya Yanovsky feel?” I asked.
He blushed so that tears even welled up in his eyes.
“You’ve guessed! I beg you to keep silent about that. The thing is that I don’t know yet what she thinks about it. That is not so important. Believe me... It’s simply that I feel so well in her presence, and even should she be indifferent – believe me – life would still be a good and happy thing, she will still be living on this land, won’t she? She is an unusual person. She is an extraordinary being. She is surrounded by such a dirty world of pigs, by such undisguised slavery, while she is so pure and kind.”
This youth with his clear and kind face awakened such an unexpected tender emotion within me that I smiled, but he, apparently, took my smile for a sneer.
“So you, too, are laughing at me as did my deceased father, as did Uncle Dubatowk...”
“I don’t think they were laughing at you, Andrey. On the contrary, it is pleasant for me to hear these words from you. You are a decent and kind person. Only perhaps you shouldn’t tell anybody else about this. Now you’ve mentioned the name of Dubatowk...”
“I am grateful to you for your kind words. However, you didn’t really think, did you, that I could’ve spoken about it with anybody else? You guessed it yourself. And Uncle Dubatowk – he too, did, though I don’t know why.”
“It’s well that it was Dubatowk who guessed it, not Ales Varona,” I said. “It would otherwise have ended badly for one of you. Dubatowk is the guardian, interested in Nadzeya’s finding a good husband. And it seems to me that he will not tell anybody else, and neither will I. But, in general you should not mention it to anybody.”
“That’s true,” he answered guiltily. “I hadn’t thought that even the slightest hint might harm Miss Nadzeya. And you are right – what a good man Dubatowk is and how sincere! People like him. A fine swordsman, simple and patriarchal! And so frank and merry! How he loves people and doesn’t interfere with anybody’s life. And his language! When I first heard it, it was as if a warm hand were stroking my heart.”
His eyes even became moist, so well did he love Dubatowk.
“Now you know, Mr. Belaretsky, but no one else will. And I will never compromise her. I shall be dumb. Look, you have been dancing with her, and it makes me happy. She is talking with someone – it makes me happy, if only it makes her happy. But to tell you the truth, to be frank with you...” His voice became stronger, his face showing determination like the young David’s coming out to fight Goliath. “Were I at the other end of the world and my heart felt that someone intended to hurt her, I’d come flying over, and were it God Himself, I would break His head for Him, I would bite Him, would fight to my last breath, and then I would crawl up to her feet and breathe my last. Believe me. And even when I am far away I am always with her.”
Looking at his face, I understood why the powers that be fear such slender, pure and honest young men. They have, of course, wide eyes, a childish smile, a youngster’s weak hands, a proud and shapely neck as if made of marble, as if it were especially created
“But I was told that Miss Nadzeya is the only one of the Yanovskys.”
“That’s really so, yes. I am a very distant relative, and also, I was thought to be dead. It’s been five years since I’ve visited Marsh Firs, and now I’m 23. My father sent me away because at the age of eighteen I was dying of love for a thirteen year old girl. As a matter of fact that was unimportant, we’d have had to wait only two years, but my father believed in the power of the ancient curse.”
“Well, did the banishment help you?” I asked.
“Not a bit. Moreover, two meetings were sufficient for me to understand that the former adoration had grown into love.”
“And how does Nadzeya Yanovsky feel?” I asked.
He blushed so that tears even welled up in his eyes.
“You’ve guessed! I beg you to keep silent about that. The thing is that I don’t know yet what she thinks about it. That is not so important. Believe me... It’s simply that I feel so well in her presence, and even should she be indifferent – believe me – life would still be a good and happy thing, she will still be living on this land, won’t she? She is an unusual person. She is an extraordinary being. She is surrounded by such a dirty world of pigs, by such undisguised slavery, while she is so pure and kind.”
This youth with his clear and kind face awakened such an unexpected tender emotion within me that I smiled, but he, apparently, took my smile for a sneer.
“So you, too, are laughing at me as did my deceased father, as did Uncle Dubatowk...”
“I don’t think they were laughing at you, Andrey. On the contrary, it is pleasant for me to hear these words from you. You are a decent and kind person. Only perhaps you shouldn’t tell anybody else about this. Now you’ve mentioned the name of Dubatowk...”
“I am grateful to you for your kind words. However, you didn’t really think, did you, that I could’ve spoken about it with anybody else? You guessed it yourself. And Uncle Dubatowk – he too, did, though I don’t know why.”
“It’s well that it was Dubatowk who guessed it, not Ales Varona,” I said. “It would otherwise have ended badly for one of you. Dubatowk is the guardian, interested in Nadzeya’s finding a good husband. And it seems to me that he will not tell anybody else, and neither will I. But, in general you should not mention it to anybody.”
“That’s true,” he answered guiltily. “I hadn’t thought that even the slightest hint might harm Miss Nadzeya. And you are right – what a good man Dubatowk is and how sincere! People like him. A fine swordsman, simple and patriarchal! And so frank and merry! How he loves people and doesn’t interfere with anybody’s life. And his language! When I first heard it, it was as if a warm hand were stroking my heart.”
His eyes even became moist, so well did he love Dubatowk.
“Now you know, Mr. Belaretsky, but no one else will. And I will never compromise her. I shall be dumb. Look, you have been dancing with her, and it makes me happy. She is talking with someone – it makes me happy, if only it makes her happy. But to tell you the truth, to be frank with you...” His voice became stronger, his face showing determination like the young David’s coming out to fight Goliath. “Were I at the other end of the world and my heart felt that someone intended to hurt her, I’d come flying over, and were it God Himself, I would break His head for Him, I would bite Him, would fight to my last breath, and then I would crawl up to her feet and breathe my last. Believe me. And even when I am far away I am always with her.”
Looking at his face, I understood why the powers that be fear such slender, pure and honest young men. They have, of course, wide eyes, a childish smile, a youngster’s weak hands, a proud and shapely neck as if made of marble, as if it were especially created
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