Chapter II: A Song

Stand before your judge--And your legs will quake!Stand before the priestOn your wedding-day,--How your head will ache!How your head will ache!You will call to mindSongs of long ago,Songs of gloom and woe:Telling how the guestsCrowd into the yard,Run to see the brideWhom the husband bringsHomeward at his side.How his parents bothFling themselves on her;How his brothers soonCall her "wasteful one";How his sisters nextCall her "giddy one";How his father growls,"Greedy little bear!"How his mother snarls,"Cannibal!" at her.She is "slovenly"And "disorderly,"She's a "wicked one"!

"All that's in the songHappened now to me.Do you know the song?Have you heard it sung?"

"Yes, we know it well;Gossip, you begin,We will all join in."

So sleepy, so wearyI am, and my heavy headClings to the pillow.But out in the passageMy Father-in-lawBegins stamping and swearing.

Stamping and swearing!Stamping and swearing!He won't let the poor womanRest for a moment.Up, up, up, lazy-head!Up, up, up, lie-abed!Lazy-head!Lie-abed!Slut!

So sleepy, so wearyI am, and my heavy headClings to the pillow;But out in the passageMy Mother-in-lawBegins scolding and nagging.

Scolding and nagging!Scolding and nagging!She won't let the poor womanRest for a moment.Up, up, up, lazy-head!Up, up, up, lie-abed!Lazy-head!Lie-abed!Slut!

"A quarrelsome householdIt was--that of Philip'sTo which I belonged now;And I from my girlhoodStepped straight into Hell.My husband departedTo work in the city,And leaving, advised meTo work and be silent,To yield and be patient:'Don't splash the red ironWith cold water--it hisses!'With father and motherAnd sisters-in-law heNow left me alone;Not a soul was among themTo love or to shield me,But many to scold.One sister-in-law--It was Martha, the eldest,--Soon set me to workLike a slave for her pleasure.And Father-in-law tooOne had to look after,Or else all his clothesTo redeem from the tavern.In all that one didThere was need to be careful,Or Mother-in-law'sSuperstitions were troubled(One never could please her).Well, some superstitionsOf course may be right;But they're most of them evil.And one day it happenedThat Mother-in-lawMurmured low to her husbandThat corn which is stolenGrows faster and better.So Father-in-lawStole away after midnight....It chanced he was caught,And at daybreak next morningBrought back and flung downLike a log in the stable.

"But I acted alwaysAs Philip had told me:I worked, with the angerHid deep in my bosom,And never a murmurAllowed to escape me.And then with the winterCame Philip, and brought meA pretty silk scarf;And one feast-day he took meTo drive in the sledges;And quickly my sorrowsWere lost and forgotten:I sang as in old daysAt home, with my father.For I and my husbandWere both of an age,And were happy togetherWhen only they left usAlone, but rememberA husband like PhilipNot often is found."

"Do you mean to sayThat he never once beat you?"

Matrona was plainlyConfused by the question;"Once, only, he beat me,"She said, very low."And why?" asked the peasants.

"Well, you know yourselves, friends,How quarrels ariseIn the homes of the peasants.A young married sisterOf Philip's one dayCame to visit her parents.She found she had holesIn her boots, and it vexed her.Then Philip said, 'Wife,Fetch some boots for my sister.'And I did not answerAt once; I was liftingA large wooden tub,So, of course, couldn't speak.But Philip was angryWith me, and he waitedUntil I had hoistedThe tub to the oven,Then struck me a blowWith his fist, on my temple.

"'We're glad that you came,But you see that you'd betterKeep out of the way,'Said the other young sisterTo her that was married."Again Philip struck me!

"'It's long since I've seen you,My dearly-loved daughter,But could I have knownHow the baggage would treat you!'...Whined Mother-in-law.

"And again Philip struck me!

"Well, that is the story.'Tis surely not fittingFor wives to sit countingThe blows of their husbands,But then I had promisedTo keep nothing back."

"Ah, well, with these women--The poisonous serpents!--A corpse would awakenAnd snatch up a horsewhip,"The peasants say, smiling.

Matrona said nothing.The peasants, in orderTo keep the occasionIn manner befitting,Are filling the glasses;And now they are singingIn voices of thunderA rollicking chorus,Of husbands' relations,And wielding the knout.

"Cruel hated husband,Hark! he is coming!Holding the knout...."

"Hear the lash whistle!See the blood spurt!Ai, leli, leli!See the blood spurt!"

"Run to his father!Bowing before him--'Save me!' I beg him;'Stop my fierce husband--Venomous serpent!'Father-in-law says,'Beat her more soundly!Draw the blood freely!'"

"Hear the lash whistle!See the blood spurt!Ai, leli, leli!See the blood spurt!"

"Quick--to his mother!Bowing before her--'Save me!' I beg her;'Stop my cruel husband!Venomous serpent!'Mother-in-law says,'Beat her more soundly,Draw the blood freely!'"

"Hear the lash whistle!See the blood spurt!Ai, leli, leli!See the blood spurt!"

"On Lady-day PhilipWent back to the city;A little while laterOur baby was born.Like a bright-coloured pictureWas he--little Djoma;The sunbeams had givenTheir radiance to him,The pure snow its whiteness;The poppies had paintedHis lips; by the sableHis brow had been pencilled;The falcon had fashionedHis eyes, and had lent themTheir wonderful brightness.At sight of his firstAngel smile, all the angerAnd bitterness nursedIn my bosom was melted;It vanished awayLike the snow on the meadowsAt sight of the smilingSpring sun. And not longerI worried and fretted;I worked, and in silenceI let them upbraid.But soon after thatA misfortune befell me:The manager byThe Pomyeshchick appointed,Called Sitnikov, hotlyBegan to pursue me.'My lovely Tsaritsa!'My rosy-ripe berry!'Said he; and I answered,'Be off, shameless rascal!Remember, the berryIs not in your forest!'I stayed from the field-work,And hid in the cottage;He very soon found me.I hid in the corn-loft,But Mother-in-lawDragged me out to the courtyard;'Now don't play with fire, girl!'She said. I besought herTo send him away,But she answered me roughly,'And do you want PhilipTo serve as a soldier?'I ran to Savyeli,The grandfather, beggingHis aid and advice.

"I haven't yet told youA word of Savyeli,The only one livingOf Philip's relationsWho pitied and loved me.Say, friends, shall I tell youAbout him as well?"

"Yes, tell us his tale,And we'll each throw a coupleOf sheaves in to-morrow,Above what we promised."

"Well, well," says Matrona,"And 'twould be a pityTo give old SavyeliNo place in the story;For he was a happy one,Too--the old man...."