A Russian Journal (Classic, 20th-Century, Penguin)

Author:John Steinbeck [Steinbeck, John]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780141180199
Amazon: 0141180196
Publisher: Penguin Classics
Published: 1989-01-01T11:00:00+00:00

The hay in the little barn was sweet. Rabbits in a cage against the wall rustled and nibbled in the dark.

On the other side of the mud wall a few pigs grunted comfortably, and Lubka, the cow, stirred in her sleep.

Lubka is the new cow, and not as well liked by Mamuchka as the old cow was. She says she doesn't know why she sold her old cow. That was Katushka, an affectionate form of Katharina. She loved Katushka very much, and she does not know why she sold her. Lubka is a nice cow, but she hasn't the personality, nor does she give quite as much milk as Katushka did. Every morning the village children come by to take the cows to pasture for the day, and Lubka goes out to join the herd, and there is Katushka in the herd. And every evening, when the cows come back, each one turning of its own accord into its own yard, Katushka tries to come into this yard, she still wants to come to her old home, and Mamuchka speaks to her for a little while, then drives her out of the yard.

And she says, "I must have been crazy to sell Katushka. Of course, Lubka is a younger cow, and she will probably live longer, but she is not as nice a cow, she is not as generous a cow as Katharina was."

The night was so short as to be practically nonexistent. We closed our eyes, turned once, and it was gone. And there were people walking about in the yard beside the barn, the cows were being led out, the pigs were squealing and grumbling in anticipation of breakfast. I don't know when Mamuchka slept. She could hardly have slept at all, for she had been up for hours cooking breakfast.

Capa gave trouble about getting up. He didn't want to do it. But he was finally lifted out of the hay. He sat on a log and stared into space for a long time.

The breakfast must be set down in detail because there has never been anything like it in the world.

First came a water glass of vodka, then, for each person, four fried eggs, two huge fried fish, and three glasses of milk; then a dish of pickles, and a glass of homemade cherry wine, and black bread and butter; and then a full cup of honey, and two more glasses of milk, and we finished with another glass of vodka. It sounds incredible that we ate all that for breakfast, but we did, and it was all good, but we felt heavy and a little sick afterward.

We thought we were up early, but the village had been in the fields since the first dawn. We went to the fields where they were reaping the rye. The men with long scythes walking in a line, cutting a great swath.

Behind them came the women who bound the grain into bundles with ropes of twisted straw, and after them

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