啞巴蓋拉辛
Mumu
伊凡·謝爾蓋耶維奇·屠格涅夫 / Tvan S.Turgenev
It was getting towards evening. He walked slowly， watching the water.
All of a sudden he fancied something was floundering in the mud close to the bank. He stooped over， and saw a little white-and-black puppy， who， in spite of all its efforts， could not get out of the water； it was struggling， slipping back， and trembling all over its thin wet little body.
Gerasim picked up the unlucky little dog with one hand， put it into the bosom of his coat， and hurried with long steps homewards.
He went into his garret， put the rescued puppy on his bed， covered it with his thick overcoat， ran first to the stable for straw， and then to the kitchen for a cup of milk. Carefully folding back the overcoat， and spreading out the straw， he set the milk on the bedstead.
The poor little puppy was not more than three weeks old， its eyes were just open—one eye still seemed rather larger than the other； it did not know how to lap out of a cup， and did nothing but shiver and blink. Gerasim took hold of its head softly with two fingers， and dipped its little nose into the milk. The pup suddenly began lapping greedily， sniffing， shaking itself， and choking.
All night long he was waiting on it， keeping it covered， and rubbing it dry. He fell asleep himself at last， and slept quietly and happily by its side.
No mother could have looked after her baby as Gerasim looked after his little nursling. At first she—for the pup turned out to be a bitch—was very weak， feeble， and ugly， but by degrees she grew stronger and improved in looks， and， thanks to the unflagging care of her preserver， in eight months' time she was transformed into a very pretty dog of the spaniel breed， with long ears， a bushy spiral tail， and large， expressive eyes.
She was devotedly attached to Gerasim， and was never a yard from his side； she always followed him about wagging her tail. He called her Mumu. All the servants in the house liked her， and called her Mumu， too.