Sketches from a Hunter's Album Read Online Free PDF Page A

roofs strewn with rotten straw. A Kaluga village, on the other hand, will be surrounded for the most part by woodland; the huts, more independent of each other and straighter, are roofed with boards; the gates can be tightly closed, the wattle-fencing round the yard has not collapsed and fallen inwards to offer an open door to any passing pig. And for the hunter the Kaluga Province provides more in the way of game. In the Oryol Province the last areas of woodland and ‘plazas’ * will disappear in five years or so, and there is no marshland whatever; while in the Kaluga Province wooded areas stretch for hundreds, and marshland for dozens, ofmiles, and that noble bird, the grouse, still thrives, the great-hearted snipe is plenteous and the noisy partridge both delights and frightens the hunter and his dog with its explosive flight from cover.
    While out hunting in the Zhizdra region I became acquainted with a small Kaluga landowner, Polutykin, also a passionate hunter and, consequently, an excellent fellow. Admittedly, he had acquired one or two weaknesses: for instance, he paid court to all the rich young ladies of marriageable age in the province and, being refused both their hands and admission to their homes, confessed his grief heartbrokenly to all his friends and acquaintances while continuing to send the young ladies’ parents gifts of sour peaches and other raw produce from his garden; he was fond of repeating one and the same anecdote which, despite Polutykin’s high opinion of its merits, simply failed to make anyone laugh; he was full of praise for the works of Akim Nakhimov 3 and the story
Pinna
; 4 he had a stammer; he called his dog Astronomer; instead of
however
he used to say
howsoever
, and he introduced in his own house a French cuisine, the secret of which, according to his cook’s ideas, consisted in completely altering the natural taste of each dish: in the hands of this culinary master meat turned out to be fish, fish became mushrooms, and macaroni ended up dry as powder; moreover, no carrot would be permitted in a soup that had not first assumed a rhomboidal or trapezoidal shape. But apart from these minor and insignificant failings Polutykin was, as I’ve said, an excellent fellow.
    On the day of our meeting Polutykin invited me to spend the night with him.
    â€˜It’ll be about five miles to my place,’ he added, ‘a long way on foot, so let’s drop in on Khor first of all.’ (The reader will permit me to overlook his stammer.)
    â€˜And who is this Khor?’
    â€˜One of my peasants. He lives not far from here.’
    We set off for his place. Khor’s isolated settlement stood amid woodland in a clearing that had been given over to cultivation. It consisted of several frame dwellings of fir linked by fences. An overhanging roof, supported by thin pillars, ran along the front of the main hut. We entered and were met by a tall, handsome young man of about twenty.
    â€˜Hello, Fedya! Is Khor at home?’ Polutykin asked him.
    â€˜No, Khor’s gone off to the town,’ the young man answered, smiling and displaying a row of snow-white teeth. ‘Would you like the cart got ready?’
    â€˜Yes, my good fellow, harness the cart. And bring us some
kvas
.’ 5
    We entered the hut. No cheap pictures, such as are made in Suzdal, were stuck on the clean, beamed walls; in one corner, before a heavy icon in its silver frame, a small lamp was kept burning; the table, constructed of lime-wood, had recently been scrubbed and wiped clean; and among the beams and the window-frames there were neither scurrying cockroaches nor lurking, contemplative beetles. The young man soon appeared with a large white jug full of good-tasting
kvas
, a large portion of good wheat loaf and a dozen salted cucumbers in a wooden bowl. He placed these refreshments on the table, leaned against the door and proceeded to watch us smilingly as we ate. We had barely finished