Peasant Tales of Russia

VIII

Half an hour passed in this way. Half-suffocated, some of the miners lay down flat on the ground. Many of them hid their faces as though unwilling to see death face to face – death which seemed so horrible in this black hole so far from the earth's surface. The pickaxes and shovels which were at work on the wall which barred their progress moved but slowly. Finally, the last batch who were working stopped, having no longer the strength to continue. In vain were their chests expanded to take deeper breaths – they were stifled, their throats were contracted, blood rushed to their heads; the air was failing them. The horrible consciousness of certain death was weighing upon them. But in any case the unfortunate men would not have had the strength to escape from this grim cul-de-sac. Their torches, flung to the earth, burnt no longer, but filled with smoke the gloom in which they were plunged.

The chief miner had an attack of vertigo. At his side a young miner began to bleed copiously at the mouth; another was struggling on the ground in an epileptic fit. Some began cursing and quarrelling or accusing old Ivan and the chief miner. One man uttered a cry, for another stretched at his side, had, in his frenzy, seized him by the throat. The chief miner thought he saw red streaks in the black darkness and felt as though something damp and slimy glided over his face. He collected all his remaining strength, rose with difficulty and took up his pickaxe again. His legs tottered. Several times he buried the pick in the black mass of earth which scattered and crumbled beneath his blows; his tool sank under the projecting rock and fragments of damp earth fell with a dull sound. He felt his arms grow numb and threaten to drop the tool.

"Can any of you help me?" he murmured, but he perceived with terror that he was voiceless, for although he thought he had spoken aloud, no one had heard him. It was like a struggle in a nightmare when the dreamer sees some terrible sight, e.g., an assassin creeping towards his bed, and tries to cry but in vain, for he is dumb. He makes a fresh effort as fruitless as the last and sees the assassin's knife come nearer. A fiendish face bends over him. He collects his last strength; it seems to him that his cry must wake the whole house and be heard in the street, yet the sleeping cat curled up on his bed does not hear the feeble groan which escapes from his labouring chest, "Come and help me!"

Well, it was the end. There was nothing more to hope for. Mechanically his hand again thrust the pick under the projecting rock. He felt a shock of surprise; the pick passed right through it; a shudder thrilled him; he clenched his teeth, made a superhuman effort, buried his pick still more deeply, throwing as much weight into it as he could, and then fell prostrate, his face towards the ground. His pickaxe had escaped from his hand and fallen through to the other side.

Through the opening thus formed there rushed a gust of refreshing air which at once increased in strength. The smoking torches which had been flung on the ground were spontaneously re-kindled. Their flame licked the walls. The miners began to breathe heavily; those who had half swooned revived a little and began to move. Many raised their heads, drinking in the air with such avidity that they became sick. The chief miner crept with difficulty through the opening and began to breathe with deep gasps the vivifying air.

"It is there … there!" repeated old Ivan dreamily.

"Yes, old man, it is there, you are right," the miners answered, suddenly recovering their courage.

All the men who had been half-insane a moment before were now convinced that they were saved. In any case, it was a respite; they would not die yet. Death had been left behind in the race once more; they would be able to wrestle with it, and they must profit by this respite to get out of this place. If they had to die after all, well, they would die, but elsewhere, not in this cramped black hole. They set to work again, and this time so zealously that in a short time they succeeded in clearing away the mass of earth which obstructed the opening into the neighbouring gallery. To judge from the quantity of air which came from below they guessed it must be much larger than the narrow passage in which they were working. They hastened to work at this outlet which promised deliverance. The pickaxes struck the rocks violently, and the shovels dug deeply. They disputed with each other the right to work, and he who could clear away the most won; they nearly came to blows in order to dig near the opening in order to reach the new passage. The opening grew larger every moment. Old Ivan glanced at it and his face grew radiant with joy, because he saw beyond it the white Apparition waiting.

"Here I am, Lord, here I am!" he murmured, and if his comrades had not prevented him, he would have tried to pass through the opening at the risk of blocking it up.

After another half-hour of work they could pass through the opening, although they had to stoop very low. The chief miner went first followed by all the rest. Once he was in the new gallery, old Ivan lifted his torch as high as before.

"I have never seen this gallery!" exclaimed the chief miner. He turned towards Ivan, but at the sight of him the words died in his throat, and he could only stammer, "What is the matter?"

Great tears were running down the old man's wrinkled cheeks; he was contemplating with an expression of profound grief the dark entrance of a side gallery.

"Well, old man! What is the matter?" the miners asked, surrounding him. He continued to gaze in the same direction. "Does this place remind you of something?" asked the chief miner. They all listened eagerly for his answer.

"It is here that my mother was buried in a landslip. Yes, here on this side."

"Comrades!" the chief miner exclaimed joyfully. "There is no doubt about it! We are in the Znamensky mine!"

So true is it that one man's grief is another man's happiness.

Old Ivan himself was forgotten. They saw that he had guided them all to the old mine, which had been long abandoned, but which he remembered from his childhood. As the mine had been dug in the rock itself, the shaft was undamaged, but they had to find the entrance to it.

The old man remained motionless where he was, his eyes fixed on the place where his mother had perished. The chief miner, who had recovered his collectedness of mind, approached him.

"Well, old man, has Jesus gone without you?"

"No … He is there… He waits for me. Here I am, Lord, here I am."

He resumed his march, and the miners followed him cheerfully.

IX

This last part of the journey was not very long. The old mine was not so narrow as the one they had just left. Large and lofty galleries led directly to the shaft; it had not been necessary to dig very deep here in order to find copper ore, and the shaft, which was of a moderate depth and dry, remained as it had always been. Although they no longer needed the old man, he still continued to lead them. The exaltation of spirit which he had shown, gave no sign of sinking, his walk was firm, and he held with a steady hand his brilliantly-burning torch. There still seemed to be some living occupants of the mine, though it had been quite abandoned, for now and then, as the miners proceeded, something fled out of their path, either a mole frightened by the unexpected sight of men, or a pole-cat which had made its home in these subterranean passages.

Ivan continued to see in front of him the white Apparition, and he believed that he heard Jesus calling and inviting him to follow.

The ground they were now passing over was almost entirely dry. It was evident that if here water had ever streamed from the roofs and the walls, it had long ago drained off down the slanting passages, probably into the neighbouring mine. Here and there some water-drops were visible shining on the stones, but one did not hear the loud noise of the water-springs, nor the roar of the torrents rushing down the crevasses. When the miners reached the shaft they beheld above their heads a greyish light, a certain indication that they were no longer very far from the surface of the earth.

"Well, now, how are we to get up?"

"There are still ladders left, but so rotten that they would not support us."

"Listen to me," said the chief miner. "One of us must try to get up there. Once he has got up, he will go and get help from the village. Hullo! Where is the old man?"

Still under the impression of his fixed idea, the old man had seen Jesus mounting the ladders and did not wish to remain behind. He thought no more of his comrades; he had forgotten them. However, the higher he climbed, clinging to the ladders, the more weary he felt. His weakness overcame him again, and long-forgotten phantoms seemed to be climbing at his side – he did not know whether they were phantoms or living beings. He saw his mother; she was wearing the same miner's boots which he had seen projecting from the mass of earth which covered her. He saw also the old man who had loved and petted him when he was a child. He saw him with his beard just as he used to be, wearing the same coarse shirt with unbuttoned collar, showing his chest covered with grey hair. Both these dumb companions smiled affectionately at him.

Overhead the orifice of the shaft continued to grow larger. The old man could already distinguish a fragment of pure blue sky, for what seemed from below the grey light of morning was, above the surface, the splendour of a sunny day. And in this splendour, Jesus was continually ascending, and was now well above the opening of the shaft.

He reached the last rung of the ladder. The earth was basking under the bright autumnal sun. The grass, although withered, appeared rejuvenated by it; yellowed leaves hung thickly on the branches of the birches. Birds were winging a zigzag flight through the cloudless sky. On the horizon mountains showed their forest-clothed summits. The air was impregnated with a pleasant warmth.

Ivan gazed above him with an expression of astonishment. The Apparition ascended higher and higher, inviting him to follow. His mother stood on one side, the old man on the other, gazing at him…

The miners had seen the old man scale the ladders of the shaft. Then, without listening to the chief miner, they hastened to follow him. They followed so close one after the other that they seemed to be climbing on each others' backs. When they reached the surface of the ground, they suddenly paused and remained without moving, after having uncovered their heads. They did not dare to disturb by a word the mystery which was being consummated before their eyes. Nor was the consummation long in coming. The miners formed a circle in the midst of which lay old Ivan stretched on the ground, his face turned towards the sky, his arms already numb, stretched far apart; his wide-open eyes saw no one; they were intently fixed on the blue vault above him as though following some one who was mounting in infinite space. His lips were seen to be feebly moving, and when the chief miner bent over him, his keen ear caught the dying old man's last whispers, "Here I am, Lord… I am following You!"

MAHMOUD'S FAMILY