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TALES FROM TOLSTOI
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CONTENTS.
PAGE
PREFACE ... ... ... ... ... Vii.
BIOGRAPHY ... .. ... ... ix.
MASTER AND MAN ... ... ... ... I
HOW MUCH LAND DOES A MAN REQUIRE? ... 80
HOW THE LITTLE DEMON EARNED HIS STOLEN
CRUST OF BREAD ... ... ... ... 103
WHERE LOVE IS THERE GOD IS ALSO ... Io8
THE CANDLE: OR HOW THE GOOD MUZHIK OVER-
CAME THE EVIL OVERSEER ... ... 127
NEGLECT A FIRE, AND 'TWILL OVERMASTER THEE 140
TWO OLD MEN ... ... ... ... 163
WHAT MEN LIVE BY ... ... ... ... 197
GOD SEES THE RIGHT, THOUGH HE BE SLOW TO
SPEAK ... ... ... ... 231
THE GRAIN THAT WAS LIKE AN EGG ... ... 244
THREE OLD MEN ... ... ... ... 249
THE GODFATHER ... ... 260
TALES FROM TOLSTOI
MASTER AND MAN
IT happened in the seventies, on the day after wintry
Nicholas' Day. There had been a feast in the parish,
and town councillor Vasily Andreich Brekhunov (he
was also a merchant of the second guild) could not
absent himself therefrom he was a church elder
and had moreover to receive and entertain at home
his kinsfolk and acquaintances. And now the last
of the guests had gone, and Vasily Andreich began
setting about departing immediately to a neighbour-
ing squire, to buy of him a wood for which he had
long been in treaty. Vasily Andreich made haste to
depart, lest the merchants of the town should antici-
pate him by over-bidding him, and thus snatch away
from him this profitable property. The young squire
asked ten thousand for this wood, simply because
Vasily Andreich had offered seven thousand for it.
Seven thousand indeed was only a third of the actual
value of the wood. Vasily Andreich might have been
inclined to beat him down still further, because the
I D
Tales from Tolstoi
wood happened to be in his district, and there had
long been an understanding between him and the
local merchants, that one merchant should not bid
against another of the same district ; but Vasily
Andreich was aware that the Government forest
contractors were after the Goryachkinsky wood, so
he resolved to set out immediately and settle the
business with the squire. So, as soon as the feast
was over, he got out of his strong box 700 roubles,
added to them the 2,300 bank-notes he had by him,
making together 3,000 roubles, and, after carefully
counting them all over, placed them in his pocket-
book, and prepared to go.
Day-labourer Nikita, the only one of Vasily
Andreich's labourers who was not drunk to-day,
hastened to put the horse to. Nikita was not drunk
to-day, because he had been a drunkard, and since
the flesh-eating days had begun, previous to which
he had drunk everything down to his clothes and his
leather boots, he had solemnly renounced drink ; and
indeed he had drunk nothing during the second
month ; and now too he had not drunken, despite the
temptations of the wine flowing everywhere during
the first two days of the feast
Nikita was a muzhik of about fifty years of age,
from the neighbouring village ; no householder, as
people said living for the greater part of his life
not at home, but amongst the people. Everywhere
was he prized for his painstaking and his skill and
strength as a workman, but principally for his good,
friendly character. But he never stayed long in one
place, because twice in the year, and now and then
a
Master and Man
still oftener, he fell a-drinking, and then, besides
drinking away all he had, he became noisy and
quarrelsome likewise. Vasily Andreich had also
driven 'him away once or twice, but taken him on again
afterwards he valued him for his honesty, for his
love of animals, and principally for his cheapness.
Vasily Andreich paid Nikita not at the rate of eighty
roubles, as such a workman was well worth, but at
the rate of forty roubles, which he gave him without
any strict account, in driblets, and for the most part
not in cash, but in wares out of his store, and at a
dear rate.
The wife of Nikita, Martha, at one time a beauty,
was a smart old woman, kept house at home, with a
little lad and two girls to look after, and she did not
call on Nikita to live at home, first because for twenty
years she had been living with a cooper, a muzhik
out of another village who dwelt with them in the
house ; and in the second place because, although
she worried her husband as she willed when he was
sober, she feared him like fire when he was drunk.
Once when he had drunk himself mad drunk at home,
Nikita, no doubt to revenge himself for all 'his sober
submissiveness, had broken open her clothes' chest,
dragged out all her most precious dresses, and catch-
ing up a chopper, chopped all her gowns and other
garments into little pieces on the chopping-block.
All the wages earned by Nikita went to his wife, and
to this he made no objection. So now, too, two days
before the feast, Martha had gone to Vasily Andreich
and received from him white meal, tea, sugar, and a
small flask of wine the whole worth about three
Tales from Tolstoi
roubles; she also got five roubles in money, and
thanked him therefore as for an especial favour, when,
as a matter of fact, at the lowest estimate, twenty
roubles were due from Vasily Andreich.
" Should we make any conditions with thee ? "
Vasily Andreich would say to Nikita. " Take that
which thou needest that which is thy due. I am
not of those who say to their people, 'Wait a
while, I owe you so much, and ye have forfeited so
much or so much.' Honour is our watchword. Thou
dost me service, and I will not desert thee. Thou
dost want this or that? Good, be it so!" And in
saying all this Vasily Andreich was sincerely con-
vinced that he was Nikita' s benefactor, so persuasively
could he talk ; and everyone, beginning with Nikita,
shared his conviction, and said yes to him.
" Yes, I understand, Vasily Andreich, it beseems a
servant to look upon his master as a veritable father.
I quite understand." Knowing very well all the time
that Vasily Andreich was swindling him, yet feeling
at the same time that it was of no use trying to
clear up accounts with him, and that live he must
somehow until he got another place, and so must take
what was given him.
And now, receiving the order from his master to
put the horse to, Nikita, now as always, willingly and
cheerfully, with a light and free step of his waddling
feet he 'had somewhat of the gait of a goose went
to the outhouse, took down from the nail there the
heavy leather tasselled saddle, and the somewhat worn
and shabby bridle, and went to the safely fastened
stable, in which stood, all by itself, that particular
4
Master and Man
horse which Vasily Andreich had told him to
harness.
" What, thou dost not know what to do with thy-
self, with all this standing still, thou old fool, eh ? "
said Nikita in reply to the faint whinny of welcome
with which he was greeted by the middle-sized, neat,
dark-brown stallion standing solitary in the stable.
" Well, well, thou shalt soon be off now, thou old
simpleton, if thou dost but wait an instant." He
spoke to the horse precisely as we speak to creatures
which understand human speech, and he put the bridle
on the handsome head of the stallion, comfortably
adjusted its ears and mane, and seizing it by the
halter, led it out to water. Cautiously making its
way out of the high stable, Brownie began to sport
and neigh, pretending, as he trotted along, that he
wanted to hit with his hind leg Nikita, who was
running with him to the well.
" None of thy tricks, thou rascal ! " admonished
Nikita, well aware of the carefulness with which
Brownie always flung out with his hind leg, managing
just to graze his short fur jacket but not to hit him,
and taking great delight in this trick.
Having drunk his fill of cold water, the horse stood
still, drew in his breath, smacked his strong wet
lips, from the hairs of which transparent drops of
water dripped back into the trough, and snorted.
" Now ask not for any more, for thou wilt not get
it, thou hast had enough," said Nikita, quite seriously,
and circumstantially justifying his conduct to
Brownie ; and again he set off running, this time
back to the stable again, tugging after him by the
5
Tales from Tolstoi
bridle the joyous young horse as it plunged and reared
all along the courtyard.
There were no labourers about, there was only
a strange man-cook there who had come to the feast.
" Dear soul ! " said Nikita to this man, " go and
ask to which sledge the horse is to be put, the big
common one lined with best bark, or the little
one ? "
The man-cook went into the house, and soon re-
turned with the tidings that it was the little one the
master would have made ready. Meanwhile Nikita
put on the horse-collar, fastened on the saddle, which
was well studded with brass nails, and holding in one
hand a light-coloured shaft-bow and leading the horse
by the other, went on to the two sledges standing
beneath the shed.
" So it is to be the little one, is it the little one ? "
he kept on repeating to himself as he led between
the shafts the shrewd young horse, which was pre-
tending it wanted to bite him all the time, and began
attaching him thereto with the assistance of the man-
cook.
When all this was nearly ready and it only remained
to lead him out, Nikita sent the man-cook to the barn
for hay and to the store-house for a sack.
" That'll do nicely ! But no tricks now, no tricks ! "
said Nikita, stuffing into the sledge the fresh, well-
threshed oat-hay brought to him by the man-cook
from the barn.
"And now that big piece of cloth," continued
Nikita, " and let us place it so, and the sack atop of
it That's right that's right and now it will be
6
Master and Man
nice to sit upon," said he, smoothing down the sack-
ing over the straw on all sides round about the seat
" There we are, and many thanks, dear soul," said
Nikita to the man-cook, " the two of us together will
soon be ready with the job ;" and adjusting the reins
so as to let them hang loosely, Nikita took his seat
on the box and urged his good horse coaxingly over
the frozen dung to the gate.
"Daddy Mikit!* daddy, daddy!" cried a voice
behind him. It was a little seven-year-old lad, who,
after a great clicking of the latch, scurried out of the
barn into the courtyard, dressed in a black half-jacket,
new, white bast shoes, and a warm cap. " Give me
a ride, give me a ride ! " piped his shrill little suppliant
voice, and he buttoned his little half-jacket as he
scampered along.
" Come along, then ; come along ! my little dove,"
said Nikita, stopping for a moment to set up before
him the little petitioner, his master's son, who was
beaming with joy, and they rode out into the street.
It was three o'clock. There were ten degrees of
frost, and it was overcast and windy ; in the court-
yard it had seemed so still. In the street a strong
wind was blowing ; from the roof of the neighbouring
barn the snow was flying and whirling into a drift in
the corner next the bath-house. At the very moment
when Nikita drove out and brought the horse up at
the foot of the flight of steps, Vasily Andreich, with a
cigarette in his mouth, and wearing a sheep-skin
mantle girded tightly and low down by a stout girdle,
* Diminutive of Nikita.
7
Tales from Tolstoi
came out of the vestibule on to the steps, the snow
upon which crackled beneath the tread of his felt
shoes, and stood still, smoothing away from both sides
of 'his ruddy face clean shaved, too, with the excep-
tion of a moustache the corners of the collar of his
sheep-skin mantle, lined inwardly with fur, lest the
fur should be made wet and moist by his breathing.
" So you are perched up there already, you little
rascal, eh?" said he, perceiving his little son in the
sledge, and he showed 'his white teeth as he grinned.
Vasily Andreich had been stimulated by drinking
wine with his guests, and was therefore more than
usually satisfied with everything which belonged to
him and with everything which he did.
With her head and her shoulders enveloped in
woollen wraps, so that only her eyes were visible, the
thin and pale-faced wife of Vasily Andreich accom-
panied him, standing behind him in the vestibule.
" Nay, indeed, you should take Nikita with you,"
said she, boldly emerging from the door. Vasily
Andreich said nothing; he only spat on the ground.
" You have got money with you," she continued in
a lamentable sort of voice. " Yes, and the weather
shows no signs of lifting. You ought indeed, God
knows."
"What! do you mean to say that I don't know
the way then, that you are always bothering me to
take a guide ? " replied Vasily Andreich, with that
peculiar unnatural stiffening of the lips with which
he generally addressed buyers or sellers with whom
he was haggling obviously he loved the sound of
his own voice.
8
Master and Man
" Yes, indeed, you ought to take him. I pray you,
in God's name, take him ! " continued his wife, tighten-
ing her wraps.
"That's right, as noisy as a bath-broom! But
where then shall I put him? "
" Look you, I am quite ready, Vasily Andreich,"
cried Nikita cheerily. " There will only be the horses'
fodder to look after in my absence," added he, turning
to his mistress.
" I'll see to it, Nikitushka. I'll give orders to
Simon," said his mistress.
" Then am I to go, Vasily Andreich ? " asked Nikita,
expectant.
" Ah ! I see you have a wholesome respect for the
missus ! But if go you must, you must put on clothes
a little more decent and warmer," said Vasily
Andreich, smiling once more, and glancing out of his
half-closed eyes at the ragged, soiled, and shabby
fringes of Nikita's jacket peeping out everywhere
from underneath his furs.
" Hie, my dear soul ! come hither, and hold the
horse ! " cried Nikita to the man-cook standing in the
courtyard.
" No, let me do it ! I'll do it ! " screamed the little
lad, drawing his frost-numbed, pretty little hands out
of his pockets, and seizing hold of the cold leather
reins.
" Only look sharp about your swell get-up," cried
Vasily Andreich, showing his teeth again as he
cracked his joke at Nikita.
" In a trice, little father," cried Nikita, and quickly
shoving his socks inside his greasy, worn-down felt
9
Tales from Tolstoi
shoes, he ran into the courtyard towards the work-
men's hut.
" Ho, there, Arinushka ! give me my khalat* from
the stove corner. I am going with master ! " cried
Nikita, running into the hut and taking his girdle
down from the nail
The workwoman, who had just risen from her after-
dinner sleep, and was just then placing the samovar
before her husband, gave Nikita a merry look, and
catching the contagion of his bustling 'haste, scuttled
off as rapidly as he himself could have done, and
fetched down from the stove where it was drying his
threadbare cloth kaftan, shook it, and smoothed out
the creases.
" No wonder you and master carry it off so com-
fortably together," said Nikita, out of the mere desire
of a loquacious and good-natured man to say some-
thing pleasant and obliging to whomsoever he may
come face to face with. And spanning around him
the narrow, well-worn little belt, he drew in his
stomach (it was meagre enough already), and girded
himself right over his jacket with all his might.
" So, there you are ! " said he, after this was done,
addressing himself this time not to the cook but to
his belt, as he tucked the ends of it in behind his
sash. " Mind you stick there, that's all ! " and rising
up from his stooping position, and lowering his
shoulders to give his hands greater freedom, he put
on his khalat, using some force to make it fit closely
to his back, so that it might not interfere with his
* A sort of long frock-coat.
10
Master and Man
hands, drew it down beneath his armpits, and picked
up his gloves from the floor. " Well, now, I am all
right!"
" It is your feet you ought to look to most," said
the cook, " and those boots of yours are bad"
Nikita stood stock-still as if he would call to mind
something.
" I ought to yes ! Well, I must go as I am. It
will not be far."
And he ran into the courtyard.
"Won't you find it cold, Nikitushka?" said his
mistress, when he had reached the sledge.
" Cold ! why I'm warm all over ! " replied Nikita,
disposing the straw in the fore part of the sledge so
as to cover his feet, and sticking under the straw the
whip, which is quite unnecessary for a good horse.
Vasily Andreich was already sitting in his place,
almost filling up the entire back part of the sledge
with his well-clothed back wrapped in its double suit
of furs, and seizing the reins at the same moment, he
flicked the horse with them. Nikita, as they set off,
bent forward a little to the left to get into an easier
position, and stretched 1 out one leg.
II.
The good horse set the sledge in motion (the curved
sides of it creaking a little as they set off), and off
they went at a smart trot along the level frozen road
leading to the village.
"What do you mean by hanging on behind there?
ii
Tales from Tolstoi
Give me the whip, Nikita," cried Vasily Andreich,
evidently proud of his son, who was clinging on
behind to the supports of the sledge. " I'll give it
you ! Run off to mamma, you son of a dog,
you ! "
The lad leaped off. The horse increased its pace,
and presently broke into a gallop.
The hamlet in which stood the house of Vasily
Andreich consisted of six houses. No sooner had
they passed the last house (it was a smithy) than they
perceived that the wind was much more violent than
they had imagined. Already the road was scarcely
visible. The track of the sledge vanished almost
immediately, and the road was only distinguishable
because it stood higher than all the rest of space.
The whole plain before them was a-smoke with mist ;
it was impossible to make out where the earth ended
and where the sky began.
The forest of Telyatin, always such a striking
feature of the landscape, was now but a black shadow
seen dimly through the snow dust. The wind blew
from the left, persistently forcing sideways the mane
on Brownie's hard-bitten neck and his tied-up tail,
and pressing down the long collar of Nikita's khalat.
Nikita was facing the wind, which blew full against
him.
" His present pace is nothing, there's too much
snow about," said Vasily Andreich, right proud of
his good horse. " Once I sat behind him on the
road to Pashutno, and he did the whole distance in
half an hour."
"What?"
12
Master and Man
" All the way to Pashutno, I say he did the whole
distance in half an 'hour."
" That's something to talk about ! A good horse
he is, and no mistake ! " said Nikita.
They were silent for a time, but Vasily Andreich
had a talking fit upon him.
" Well, how does your old woman get on with her
friend the cooper ? " said Vasily Andreich, so con-
vinced that it ought to be very pleasant for Nikita
to converse with such a sensible and distinguished
man as himself, and so pleased with his own joke that
it never entered his head whether his conversation
might not be disagreeable to Nikita. Nikita, how-
ever, did not catch his master's words distinctly, as
the wind carried the sound away from him.
Vasily Andreich repeated his jest about the cooper
in his deep, full voice.
" God be with them, Vasily Andreich ! I don't
meddle in the matter. So long as she is kind to
the little one, God be with her."
" Oh ! that's it, is it ? " said Vasily Andreich. " Well,
are you going to buy that horse in the spring ? " he
asked, broaching another subject.
" I should like to have the chance," answered
Nikita, turning aside the collar of his kaftan, and
bending over towards his master.
The conversation had now grown interesting to
Nikita, and he did not want to lose a word of it.
" He's very small, not much good even at plough-
ing, he's so very small," said he.
" Take him as he stands. I won't put too big a
price upon it," shouted Vasily Andreich, feeling him-
13
Tales from Tolstoi
self growing excited as he plunged again into his
favourite occupation, that swallowed up everything
else the driving of a bargain.
" And then, you know, for fifteen roubles I could
pick and choose at the horse fair," said Nikita, well
knowing that seven roubles was a very good price
to pay for the horse that Vasily Andreich wanted
to palm off upon him; and that if Vasily Andreich
let him have the horse he would charge him twenty-
five roubles for it, which would mean not seeing the
colour of his money" in wages for half a year.
" The horse is a good one. I would do you a good
turn as well as myself. On my conscience I would
A Brekhunov would injure no man. I seek not mine
own, as do others. On my honour, a first-rate horse ! "
he cried, in the same tone of voice he always affected
when haggling with buyers and sellers.
" No doubt," said Nikita ; and fully persuaded that
it was no longer of any use to listen, he put up with
his hand the collar of his coat, which immediately
covered up his face and ears.
For half an hour they went on in silence. The
wind blew right into Nikita's side and arm just where
his fur was ragged and torn. He hugged himself,
and breathed hard into his collar, that covered his
mouth, and his hard breathing seemed to burn him.
" Well what do you think ? Shall we go in the
direction of Karamnishevo, or straight on?" asked
Vasily Andreich.
The Karamnishevo road was much the more fre-
quented, with well-maintained posts on both sides
but it was the longer way. Straight on would be
14
Master and Man
nearer, but the road was badly kept, and there were
no sign-posts, or very sorry ones.
Nikita thought for a moment
" By the Karamnishevo road," said he at last ; " it
is longer, but easier going."
" But if you go straight, you have only to pass the
hollow you can't miss it, and tjien you're all right
again," said Vasily Ahdreich, who wanted to go
straight on.
" As you please," said Nikita, and again he put up
his collar.
Vasily Andreich did as he wished, and driving for
half a mile past a small wood of tall oaks well swept
by the wind, but still having a few dry leaves upon
them here and there, he turned off to the left. On
turning the corner the wind blew almost straight in
their faces. Light snowflakes were falling from
above. Vasily Andreich straightened himself up,
puffed out his cheeks, and blew hard down into his
moustaches. Nikita fell a-nodding. They drove
along in silence for about ten minutes. All at once
Vasily Andreich said something.
" What is it? " asked Nikita, opening his eyes.
Vasily Andreich answered nothing, but looked
scared, peering backwards and forwards over the
horse's head. The horse, beaded with sweat on the
flanks and neck, was going at a foot-pace.
"What's amiss, I say?" repeated Nikita.
" Amiss ! amiss ! " mocked Vasily Andreich angrily.
" I don't see the posts, we must have missed our way."
" Stop, then ; I'll look along the road," cried Nikita,
and lightly leaping from his perch, and snatching
Tales from Tolstoi
up the whip from under the straw, 'he struck to the
left of the place where he had been sitting.
The snow that year was not deep, so that there
was a way through it everywhere, yet here ."md there
it reached up to a man's knee, and found its way into
Nikita's boots. Nikita tramped along, and felt his
way with his whip and his feet, but there was no sign
of the road anywhere.
"Well, how is it?" said Vasily Andreich, when
Nikita picked his way back to the sledge.
" There is no road this way. We must go along
in the other direction."
" Look ! What is that black thing in front ? You
go over yonder and see ! " said Vasily Andreich.
Nikita went thither also, he went right up to the
black thing in front it was the ground that was black
there, sprinkled over with bare-lying winter seed,
which had coloured the snow black. After turning
to the right also, Nikita returned to the sledge,
brushed off the snow from his clothes, shook it out
of his boots, and sat down in the sledge again.
"We must go to the right," said he decisively.
" The wind was blowing upon my left side, and now
it is right on my nose. Go to the right," said he in
a decided tone.
Vasily Andreich listened to him, and turned to the
right
Still there was no sign of a road. Thus on they
went for some time. The wind did not abate, and
the light snowflakes continued to fall
" We have plainly quite lost our way, Vasily
Andreich," said Nitika suddenly, with an air of some-
16
Master and Man
thing very like satisfaction. " What's that ? " he
added, pointing to a black potato-plant peeping forth
from under the snow.
Vasily Andreich had already pulled up the horse,
whose strong sides were wet with sweat.
" What do you make of it ? " he asked.
" I make this of it : that we are in the fields of
Zakharovek that is where we have gone astray."
" Lies ! " cried Vasily Andreich, speaking in a very
different tone to what he used at home, by his voice
you would have taken him for a simple peasant.
" I lie not. I am speaking the truth, Vasily
Andreich," said Nikita. " And it was plain from the
sound made by the sledge itself that we were going
over a potato field ; and look at the bits of the plants
that we have carried along with us. We are in the
Zakharovek fields not a doubt of it."
" A pretty round you've taken us out of our way ! "
said Vasily Andreich. " What are we to do now ? "
" We must go straight on, that's all, wherever we
may come out," said Nikita. " If we don't come out
at Zakharovek, we shall come to some gentleman's
farm or other."
Vasily Andreich obeyed, and let the horse go on
again as Nikita had commanded. They went on thus
for a pretty long time. Sometimes they drove along
over bare fields of vegetables, whose ridges and
bounds peering above the snow were strewn with the
dust of the earth. Sometimes they got among stubble
fields, or among fields sown with winter corn, or
fields sown with summer corn, in which appeared at
intervals from underneath the snow t shaking in the
17 E
Tales from Tolstoi
j
wind, patches of straw or wormwood ; sometimes
they drove into deep white plains of snow, every-
where uniform, above which nothing was visible.
Snow fell from above and rose up from below. Some-
times it seemed to them as if they were going uphill,
and sometimes as if they were going down dale ;
sometimes it seemed to them as if they were stand-
ing stock-still in one place and the snowy plain was
running past them. Both had grown silent. The
horse was evidently weary to death mottled and
dripping with sweat, and going at a foot-pace. Sud-
denly it collapsed and sat down in some chasm or
ditch. Vasily Andreich would have stopped, but
Nikita began shrieking at him.
" Why do you stop ? Go on ! We must get out
of this. Come, come, my son ! " he said in a cheery
voice to the horse, leaping out of the sledge and into
the chasm. The horse made a brave effort, and
struggled out upon a frozen gravel-heap. It had
evidently fallen into a ditch.
"Where are we, I wonder?" said Vasily Andreich.
" We must find out," answered Nikita. " Push on,
anyhow, we shall come out somewhere."
" Surely that is the Goryachkinsky wood ? " said
Vasily Andreich, pointing to something black peep-
ing out of the snow in front of them.
" Come and let us see what sort of a wood it is,"
said Nikita. Nikita had perceived that from the
direction of this black something, dry, longish vine-
leaves were being carried along by the wind, and
therefore he knew it was not a wood, but human
habitations to which they were coming, but he did
18
Master and Man
not trust himself to speak. And in fact they had not
proceeded more than twenty yards from the ditch
when in front of them there was no mistaking it
a village loomed forth blackly, and a new and melan-
choly sound was to be heard. Nikita had guessed
rightly, this was no wood, but a row of low vines,
with here and there a few leaves still shivering upon
them. Making his way towards these vines, moaning
sadly in the wind, the horse suddenly raised itself on
its fore-feet till it was higher than the sledge, then
struggled on to its hind legs also, and so extricated
its knees from the snow. It had gained the road
" So, 'here we are," said Nikita ; " and we don't
know where."
The horse proceeded without stumbling along the
snow-bound road, and they had gone along it not
more than forty yards when a row of fences loomed
black before them, from which the snow never ceased
to fall and spread about. On passing the fence the
road turned in the direction of the wind, and they
plunged into a snow-drift. But right in front of them
a lane between the houses was visible, so that it was
plain the drift had been blown together upon the
road, and they would have to force their way through
it. And, indeed, after forcing their way through the
snow-drift they got upon the road again. On a rope
in the furthermost courtyard some stiff-frozen clothes
were fluttering desperately in the wind in every
direction : two shirts, one red and one white ; hose,
socks, and a petticoat. The white shirt was turning
about with particular desperation, and waving its
sleeves.
'9
Tales from Tolstoi
"Look, there lives a lazy old woman, or else she
is dead, for she has not taken down her washing
against the feast," said Nikita, looking at the flutter-
ing shirts.
III.
At the beginning of the street it was also windy,
and the road was snowy, but in the middle of the
village it was quiet, warm, and cheerful. At one
house a dog was barking, in another courtyard an
old woman with a handkerchief round her head was
running home from somewhere or other, and when
she reached the door of the hut she remained stand-
ing on the threshold to look at the travellers passing
by. From the middle of the village resounded the
songs of some girls. In the village itself the wind,
the snow, and the frost seemed less than elsewhere.
" I suppose this is Grishkino," said Vasily Andreich.
" Yes, it is," replied Nikita.
And indeed Grishkino it was. It now appeared
that they had taken a wrong turn to the left, and
had gone eight versts, not precisely in the direction
they had wanted to go, nevertheless they had been
moving towards their destination ; for Goryachkina
was only five versts distance from Grishkino.
In the middle of the village they came upon a tall
man driving in the middle of the street.
"Who goes there?" bellowed this man, stopping
short, and immediately afterwards, perceiving Vasily
Andreich, he caught hold of the shafts, and leaping
20
Master and Man
over them with the help of his hands, came up to
the sledge, and sat down on the box-seat.
It was an old acquaintance of Vasily Andreich, the
muzhik Isai, well known all about those parts as a
horse-thief.
" Why, Vasily Andreich ! where on earth are you
off to ? " said Isai, sending a whiff of vodka in the
direction of Nikita.
"We are going to Goryachkina."
" You have come out of your way then. You must
go by way of Malakhovo then."
" Needs must then. I suppose we are a little out
of it," said Vasily Andreich, stopping the horse.
" That's a good little nag of yours," said Isai, look-
ing at the horse, and drawing his hand beneath the
tail, slightly loosening the knot into which the tail
was tied, after the manner of dealers in horse-flesh.
" Why not pass the night here ? "
" Nay, brother, we must be going on."
" You had better stay -you ought."
" Tell us, dear soul," put in Nikita, " how to go so
that we may not go astray again."
" How can you lose your way here ? Return to
the road straight, when you get there you'll find it
all straightforward. Don't turn to the left. You'll
come out by a big mound, and then turn to the
left."
" We turn from the big mound, then but in which
direction, the summer side or the winter side ? " asked
Nikita.
" The winter side. Immediately when you come
out there, you will see bushes, right opposite the
21
Tales from Tolstoi
bushes is a big post an oaken, ragged-looking post,
that is where it is."
Vasily Andreich turned his horse back, and drove
past the village.
" You ought to pass the night here, I tell you ! "
bawled Isai after him. But Vasily Andreich made
him no answer, but urged on the horse. Five miles
of level road, two of which were protected by woods,
did not seem to be much of a business to traverse,
especially as the wind had died down somewhat, and
the snow had ceased to fall.
Proceeding back again down the street along a
roughish piece of road, darkened here and there by
freshly fallen horse-dung, and passing the courtyard
where the clothes were hung out (the white shirt
had by this time wrenched itself loose, and was hang-
ing by one frost-stiff arm only), they once more drove
along by the fearfully moaning plantations of vines,
and came out again into the open. Here the snow-
storms, so far from subsiding, seemed to blow with
greater fury than ever. The whole road was covered
with snow, and it was only the tops of the posts that
told them they had not lost their way. But it was
difficult to distinguish the posts themselves very far
ahead, as the wind was blowing full against them.
Vasily Andreich wrinkled his brow, bent his head,
and kept a sharp look out for the posts; but it was
best, he thought, to let the horse go his own way, and
trust to him. And indeed the horse did not go astray,
but went alternately, now to the right and now to the
left, along the winding road, which it recognised
beneath its feet Consequently, despite the fact that
22
Master and Man
the snowfall from above increased in violence, and
the wind also blew more violently, the posts on the
right side and the left continued to be visible.
And so they went on for the next ten minutes,
when suddenly, right in front of the horse, appeared
a black something, moving along in a perfect network
of fine snow driven along by the wind They were
fellow-travellers travelling in the same direction.
Brownie regularly ran therm down, and grazed the
box-seat of the sledge in front with his hoofs.
" Go round go round in front ! " cried the people
in the other sledge.
Vasily Andreich set about going in front. There
were three muzhiks and an old woman in the other
sledge. Evidently they were guests returning 'home
from a feast. One of the muzhiks was whipping up
the horse from behind with a bundle of twigs. Two
of the muzhiks in the front part of the sledge were
waving their hands and screeching something. The
woman, wrapped closely up and covered with snow,
was sitting silently, like a big puffed-up bundle of
clothes, in the back part of the sledge.
" Who do you belong to ? " cried Vasily Andreich.
" A-a-a-sky ! " was all that was audible.
" Who do you belong to, I say? "
" A-a-a-sky ! " roared one of the muzhiks with all
his might, and yet it was impossible to make out whom
they meant.
The sledges grazed each other as they passed.
They seemed interlocked one moment, and the next
they were free of each other again, and then the
peasants' sledge began to draw away.
Tales from Tolstoi
The shaggy little thickset horse, all covered with
snow, panted heavily beneath the low shaft-bow,
evidently exhausting its last reserve of strength as
it dragged its short legs haltingly through the deep
snow, frequently they almost doubled up beneath it.
To judge from its snout it was evidently a young
animal. It had a stiff drawn-out lower lip like a fish's
with distended nostrils, and ears pressed close to its
head in terror. For a few seconds it held itself close
beside Nikita's shoulder, and then it began slowly to
draw away.
" It is easy to see what sort they are," said Nikita,
" they'll end by killing their poor little nag outright,
savages that they are ! "
For some moments the snorting of the overworked
horse and the drunken cries of the muzhiks continued
to be heard, presently the snorting ceased, and not
long after that the drunken shouting died away also.
And once more nothing was to be heard all around
but the whistling of the wind about their ears, and
now and again the faint creaking of the sides of the
sledge as it went over the rough parts of the road.
This chance meeting had amused and stimulated
Vasily Andreich, and no longer taking note of the
posts he boldly whipped the horse up and trusted to
it to keep to the road.
Nikita had nothing to do, so he began to be drowsy.
Suddenly the horse stood stock-still, and Nikita was
almost pitched out, as it was he fell forward and hurt
his nose.
" Something is amiss again ; it is rather rough
going, eh ? " said Vasily Andreich.
24
Master and Man
"What's up?"
" Not a post to be seen ! We must have strayed
away from the road again."
" Strayed away from the road, eh ? then we must
find it again," said Nikita curtly. So out he jumped
again, and began picking his way over the snow,
treading very lightly, and with his feet turned inwards.
He walked about for some time, disappearing from
view, reappearing, and then again disappearing. At
last he turned back.
" There is no road here ; it may be somewhere
ahead," said he, sitting down on the sledge.
It was beginning to grow sensibly dusky all around,
the snowstorm had not increased in violence, but it
showed no signs of abating.
" I wish we could hear those muzhiks," said Vasily
Andreich.
" It's no good trying to overtake them, and besides,
most likely they too have lost their way," said Nikita.
"In which direction shall we go then?" asked
Vasily Andreich.
" We must leave that to the horse," said Nikita.
" He will find his way. Give me the reins."
Vasily Andreich gave up the reins all the more
readily as his hands were beginning to feel very cold,
though covered by warm gloves.
Nikita took the reins and just held them loosely,
trying not to move them : he was proud of the good
sense of his pet nag. And indeed the shrewd horse,
cocking first one ear in one direction and then the
other ear in the other, gradually began to turn
about.
2 5
Tales from Tolstoi
" Don't say a word," added Nikita, " see what he
does ! Bless you, he knows ! That's it, that's it ! "
The wind was now blowing behind their backs ; it
began to be warmer.
" Oh ! he's a knowing one," continued Nikita, de-
lighted to crack up his horse, " a Kirghiz nag may ba
as strong, but it is a fool to him. Look how his ears
are working. He needs no telegraph post, not he!
He can scent the road a mile off."
And not half an hour had passed before something
black really loomed out in front of them a wood,
perhaps, or a village ; and on the right side of the
way the posts again appeared. Evidently they had
once more got upon the road.
" Why, if it is not Grishkino again ! " suddenly ex-
claimed Nikita.
And indeed, to the left of them, there was now that
same row of buildings from which the snow drifted,
and further on was that same rope with the frozen
clothes, the shirts and breeches, all of which were
still dancing frantically in the wind.
Again they drove into the main street ; again they
felt it quiet, warm, and pleasant there; again the
dung-strewn road was visible ; again were to be heard
voices, songs, and the barking of dogs. Already it
was sufficiently dark for lights to be burning in some
of the windows.
In the middle of the street of the village Vasily
Andreich turned the horse in the direction of a large
house with two brick wings, and made it stop in front
of the door.
" Go and call Taras ! " he shouted to Nikita..
26
Master and Man
Nikita went to the snowed-up, illuminated window,
in the light of which the little fluttering snowflakes
gleamed and sparkled, and tapped with the end of
his whip.
" Who is there ? " a voice exclaimed in answer to
Nikita's summons.
"In the name of the Holy Cross, Brekhunov's
people, dear man ! " replied Nikita. " Come out for
a moment ! "
Someone moved away from the window, and the
next moment could be heard the creaking of a distant
door, then the lifting of a latch in the outhouse, and
then, holding the door against the pressure of the
wind, an old muzhik with a white beard poked out
his head. He wore a high cap, and a short pelisse
buttoned over his white Sunday shirt, and behind
him was a youth in a red shirt and leather boots.
" At your service ! " said the old man.
" The fact is, we have gone astray, my brother,"
said Vasily Andreich. "We were on our way to
Goryachkina, and lighted hither at your place instead.
We drove on again, and lo! we have strayed back
again to the selfsame spot."
" Well, you have made a mess of it, I see," said the
old man. " Pete ! go and open the gate," he added,
turning to the youth in the red shirt.
" All right," said the youth merrily, and he ran out
to the sledge.
" Nay, brother, we will not stay the night," said
Vasily Andreich.
" Whither would you go then, with night coming
on ? Nay, but you must stay ! "
27
Tales from Tolstoi
" I should be glad to stay the night ; but go on
we must."
"Well, have a warm up, anyhow; come straight
to the samovar," said the old man.
" Well, I don't mind having a warm up," said Vasily
Andreich, " it cannot be much darker, nay, the moon
is rising, so it will be quite light presently. What do
you ,say, eh, Nik? Shall we go in and have a warm? "
" Yes, I think we may as well have a warm," said
Nikita, who was more than half benumbed already,
and would have given anything to warm his freezing
limbs by the stove.
Vasily Andreich went with the old man into the
room, while Nikita entered through the gate opened
by Pete, and, directed by him, led the horse under the
roof of the shed. This .shed was used for housing
manure and all sorts of creatures, and its lofty arch
was supported on a cross beam. The cocks and hens,
which had already gone to roost on this 'high perch,
began to cackle somewhat impatiently and scrape the
perch with their claws. Some startled sheep shuffled
about on the frozen dung, and crowded to one side.
A dog, obviously quite a young animal, whined
piteously for fear, and then began barking at the
stranger.
Nikita had a word for them all. He apologized to
the fowls, reassured them, and begged them not to
put themselves about any more ; reproached the sheep
for getting frightened at nothing at all ; and all the
time he was attending to the horse, never ceased
haranguing the little dog.
" There you are ; now you'll do nicely," said Nikita,
28
Master and Man
knocking the snow from off him. Then, turning to
the dog, he added, "You silly thing! what are you
putting yourself about for? What's the matter, eh?
Be quiet, you stupid ! There are no thieves here."
" They say, you know, there are three persons who
have a great deal to say in a house," 'observed the
youngster, Pete.
" Who may they be ? " asked Nikita.
" You'll find it all printed in Paulson's book : the
thief creeps into the house the dog barks that
means, ' Don't yawn in bed any longer ! ' The cock
crows that means, ' Get up.' The cat washes her-
self that means, ' 'Tis a good guest, prepare to enter-
tain him ! ' ' The boy smiled as he repeated his
lesson.
For little Pete was a lettered youngster, and knew
almost by heart everything in Paulson, the one book
he possessed and loved to quote, especially when he
was a bit in liquor, as now ; he loved to quote any-
thing which seemed to him likely to improve the
occasion.
" That's just it," said Nikita.
" You must be nearly frozen, uncle, eh ? " added
Pete.
"Pretty well on that way, I think," said Nikita.
And they passed through the courtyard and the sheds
into the dwelling-house.
IV,
The house at which Vasily Andreich had stopped
was one of the richest in the village. The family
29
Tales from Tolstoi
cultivated five ordinary lots, and had other outlying
land in reserve besides. There were six horses in
the yard, three cows, two yoke-oxen, and twenty head
of sheep. The family consisted of twenty-two souls,
including four married sons, six grandchildren of
whom only Pete was married two great-grand-
children, three orphans, and four daughters-in-law
with their children. It was one of those few houses
where, as yet, there were no divisions ; but for some
time past there had been some domestic unpleasant-
ness, as is ever the case, beginning amongst the
women, and due to petty squabbling which was
bound, sooner or later, to end in downright division.
Two of the sons lived at Moscow, among the water-
carriers ; and one was a soldier. There were now
at home the old man, the old woman, the son who
looked after the farm, a son who had arrived from
Moscow for the feast, and all the women and children.
Moreover, besides the people of the house, a guest
was present the neighbouring starosta.
Over the table in the living-room hung the lamp
from a high support, brightly illuminating the tea-
service beneath it, the water-bottle, the repast already
spread forth, and the brick walling of the " beautiful
corner," hung with ikons, with pictures on each side
of them. In the place of honour at table sat Vasily
Andreich, in a black half-pelisse, smoothing out his
frozen moustaches, and blinking at all the people
in the room with his prominent, hawk-like eyes.
Besides Vasily Andreich, there were sitting at table
a white-bearded, bald-headed old man, the master of
the house, in a white shirt of home make ; alongside
3
Master and Man
of him, in a shirt of fine texture, with sturdy back and
shoulders, his son who had come from Moscow for
the feast ; and yet another son, his broad-shouldered
elder brother, who looked after the household ; and
there was also the starosta, a somewhat meagre, red-
haired muzhik.
The muzhiks, after eating and drinking, had just
assembled together to drink tea ; the samovar stand-
ing on the floor near the stove was beginning to sing.
There were children peeping forth here and there on
the stove and on the polati* In one corner a woman
was sitting over a cradle. The old woman of the
house she had a face covered in every direction
with tiny wrinkles, her very lips were wrinkled was
devoting herself personally to Vasily Andreich. At
the moment when <Nikita entered the room she was
pouring out of a thick glass bottle a little glass of
vodka for Vasily Andreich.
" Nay, .but you must, Vasily Andreich. One must
keep well, you know, this weather," the old man of
the house was saying.
The sight and smell of the vodka, especially now,
when he was half frozen and half dead with hunger,
profoundly affected Nikita. He frowned, and, shak-
ing his cap and kaftan free of snow, he planted him-
self in front of the Jioly images, and just as if he
perceived nothing else, crossed himself thrice and
made obeisance ; then he turned to the old man of
the house, and bowed first to him, then to all who
were at the table, and then to the women who were
* Sleeping-places in the peasants' hut.
31
Tales from Tolstoi
standing around the stove, and after uttering the
greeting, " Be it well with you ! " proceeded to strip
off his outer garments.
" Why, thou art all frosted, uncle ! " said the elder
brother, regarding Nikita's face, eyes, and beard in
their frame of snow. Nikita took off his kaftan,
shook it once more, hung it up against the stove, and
drew near to the table. To him also vodka was
presented. For an instant a torturing struggle went
on within him, he was very nearly accepting the little
glass and tossing down his throat the pungently
fragrant, sparkling fluid; but he glanced at Vasily
Andreich, called to mind his promise, called to mind
the boots he had drunk away, called to mind the
cooper, called to mind his little one for whom he had
promised to buy a horse in the spring and he sighed,
and refused it.
" I won't drink it, thank you, crying your pardon,"
said he frowning, and he sat down on the bench
opposite the second window.
" Why, how's that? " asked the elder brother.
" I won't drink, and I don't drink," said Nikita, not
raising his eyes, and stroking his moustache and
beard free of the icicles which still clung to them.
"It is not good for him," said Vasily Andreich,
sipping away at his own well-filled glass.
"Then have a cup of tea," said the kindly old
hostess. "Why, you're half frozen, frozen to the
bone, I should think. Hie, you women there, what
are you about with that samovar? "
"It is quite ready," replied one of the young
women, coming forward with the cloth-covered, heavy
Master 1 and Man
samovar ; with difficulty she raised and carried it, and
plumped it down on the table.
Meanwhile Vasily Andreich was telling how they
had lost their way, how they had twice come back
to the selfsame village, how they had gone astray
and come across the party of drunken revellers.
Their hosts were astonished. They explained to
them why and where they had missed the road, they
told them who the drunken folks were whom they
had met, and made it clear to them how they ought
to go.
" Why a little child could find his way as far as
Molchanovka, there's a bush there you could not mis-
take. And yet you could not get there after all ! "
said the starosta.
" Won't you stay the night, then ? The women
will soon get a bed ready," said the old hostess.
" You can go on very well in the morning, you
know. The business will wait surely," insisted the
old host.
" Impossible, my brother ! Business is business,"
said Vasily Andreich. " Lose an hour, and you won't
make it up in the whole year," he added, thinking of
the little wood, and of the merchants who might
outbid him and spoil his bargain. " We can manage
it, surely," he continued, turning towards Nikita.
Nikita did not answer for some time, he seemed
to be entirely engrossed with smoothing out his beard
and moustaches.
"We shall not go astray again," observed he at
last moodily. Nikita was moody, because he had
still a burning desire for the vodka ; the only thing
33
F
Tales from Tolsto!
that could stifle this desire was tea, and no tea had
yet been offered to him.
" If only we get to the turning, it will all be plain
sailing, for there is a wood all the way along right up
to the place," said Vasily Andreich.
"It is for you to decide whether we go or not,
Vasily Andreich," said Nikita, taking the cup of tea
now offered to him.
" Let us drink our tea, then, and be off."
Nikita said nothing, he only shook his head, and
cautiously pouring out his tea into the saucer, began
to warm his half frozen hands over the steam ; then,
biting off a tiny little bit of sugar from the lump he
held in his hand, he bowed to his host, and exclaimed,
" Your health," and drank up the steaming fluid.
"Can anyone guide us to the turning?" asked
Vasily Andreich.
" Of course, of course," said the elder son, " Pete
can put to and guide you to the turning."
"Put to, then, put to, my brother, and you shall
have my best thanks."
" Why, dear soul ! " said the courteous old hostess,
" as if we were not right glad to do it"
" Pete, go and saddle the mare ! " said the elder
son.
" All right," said Pete, smiling, and immediately
snatching his cap off a nail he went out to saddle the
mare.
While the horses were being got ready, the con-
versation went back to the point where it had been
broken off when Vasily Andreich had first approached
the window. The old host began complaining to his
34
Master and Man
neighbour, the starosta, of his third son who had sent
him no present for the feast, although he had sent
his wife a very nice French kerchief.
" Our young folks are getting out cf hand," said
the old man.
" Getting out of hand indeed ! everything is out
of gear nowadays," said the <starosta. " We are all
so frightfully knowing! Look at that Dravotchkin
fellow, for instance, who has just broken his father's
arm. It all comes of having too much mind, forsooth
that's quite plain."
Nikita listened, and looked in the faces of the
talkers, and it was plain that he also wanted to take
part in the conversation ; but his mouth was full of
tea, so he only nodded his head approvingly. He
drank glass after glass, and began to grow ever
warmer and warmer, and more and more friendly.
The conversation continued to turn for a long time
round one and the same subject, viz., the mischief of
the division of property. It was no abstract dis-
cussion, that was plain. They were discussing the
evil of the division of the property of that very
(family ; a division demanded by the second son, who
was actually sitting there, listening in moody silence.
This was evidently a sore point. It was a question
which occupied all the people in the house ; but out
pf regard for the stranger they did not emphasize
their own personal interests. But at last the old man
could stand it no longer, and, with tears in his voice,
began to say that he would not give in to the pro
posed division. So long as he lived his house should
remain his to the glory of God. " Once begin with
35
Tales from Tolstoi
your divisions, and everything would go to the Mir*
again."
" Look ye, Mathew's people ! " said the starosta.
" As things were, this was a real proper home, but if
you fall to dividing there will be nothing for anyone."
"And that is how, I suppose, you would have it,"
said the old man, turning to his son.
The son made no reply, and an awkward silence
ensued. This silence was broken by Pete, who by
this time had put the horses to, and had come into
the room again a few minutes before, and stood listen-
ing with a smile upon his face the whole time.
" There's a fable something like this in Paulson,"
said he. " A parent gives to his sons a bath-broom to
break up. While it is all bound up together they
cannot break it up ; but taking it twig by twig they
break it easily. That's how it is," said he, with a
grin all over his mouth " All is ready! " added he.
" If it be ready we will go," said Vasily Andreich.
" And as to this division matter, old Daddy, don't you
give in! You have been building the place up all
your life and you are master here. Hand it over to
the Mir people. They'll put it all to rights."
" They're such a set of sharpers," whined the old
man, " that there's no doing anything at all with them.
Plague take 'em ! "
Nikita, meanwhile, having drunk five cups of tea,
stood on one side without turning round, hoping that
a sixth would be offered him. But there was no more
water in the samovar ; the hostess did not pour him
* The peasant community.
36
Master and Man
out any more ; and, what is more, Vasily Andreich
stood up to put on his things. There was nothing
for it but to do likewise. So Nikita also got up, put
back into the sugar-basin his lump of sugar which
he had nibbled round on every side, wiped with a
cloth all round his face, still wet with sweat, and went
to put on his khalat.
When it had been put on he sighed heavily, and
having thanked his host and hostess, and taken leave
of them, went out of the warm, bright sitting-room
into the dark, cold outhouses, full of the whistling,
rushing wind, strewn with snow which had drifted
through the chinks in the door, and so from thence
into the still darker courtyard.
Pete in his pelisse was standing beside his horse
in the middle of the courtyard, and with a smile upon
his face was repeating verses out of Paulson. He
was saying :
" The lowering tempest hides the sky,
The whirlwind brings the driving snow,
Now like a wild beast it doth cry,
Now like a child it whimpers low."
Nikita nodded his head approvingly, and began to
unloose the reins.
The old host, accompanying Vasily Andreich, had
brought out a lantern into the shed, and wanted to
light it, but the wind immediately blew the light out.
It was plain to those standing in the courtyard that
the snowstorm had increased in violence.
" It's quite a little storm," thought Vasily
Andreich ; " I half wish I wasn't going. But what's
37
Tales from Tolstoi
to be done? Business is business. Besides, I am
all ready now. Our host's horse, moreover, is put to.
Go we must, and God be with us! " The old host
was also of opinion that they ought not to go ; but
he had already advised them not to go, and they had
not listened to him. " Perhaps age has made me
fearful," thought he, " and they'll get there all right.
Yet if the worst comes to the worst, we could put
them up for the night without trouble."
Pete also perceived that it was dangerous to go,
and he felt very uncomfortable himself, but he would
not have shown it on any account, so he strengthened
his heart, and persuaded himself that he did not care
a bit, and was quite fortified by the reflection that
the verses about
" The whirlwind brings the driving snow,"
exactly described what was going on just then in the
courtyard. As for Nikita, he was altogether against
going, but he had too long been accustomed to have
no opinion of his own and obey others. Thus there
was none to keep back the departing guests.
V,
Vasily Andreich went to the sledge, with difficulty
making out in the darkness where it was, got into it,
and seized the reins.
" Go on ! " cried he.
Pete, kneeling in his own sledge, let his horse go.
38
Mastep and Man
Brownie, scenting the mare in front c him, rushed
after her, and they emerged into the road. Once
more they passed through the village by the same
road, past the courtyard where the frozen white
clothes were fluttering in the wind (now, however,
they were no longer visible), past the outhouses
which were snowed up almost to the roof, from which
masses of snow plunged down incessantly ; past those
sadly rustling, whistling, and moaning vine-hedges,
and once more came out into that vast snowy sea,
where the tempest was raging up and down. The
wind was now so strong that when the passengers
sailed in the teeth of it, and it caught them sideways,
it made the sledge heel over, and smote full upon the
flank of the horse. Pete urged (his good mare for-
ward at a sharp trot, and shouted to her encouragingly.
Brownie dashed after her.
Ten minutes or so elapsed. Pete turned round
and shrieked something ; neither Vasily Andreich or
Nikita could hear him for the wind. They never
guessed that they had arrived at the turning. In
fact, Pete had turned to the right, and the wind which
had been blowing sideways now once more struck
them full in the face, and on the right, through the
snow, something black was distinguishable. This was
the bush at the turning.
" And now God be with you ! "
" Thanks, Pete ! "
" The lowering tempest hides the sky ! " cried Pete,
and with that he vanished.
" Quite a bit of a rhymester, eh? " observed Vasily
Andreich, tugging at the reins.
39
Tales from Tolstoi
" Yes, a good youngster and a true man," said
Nikita.
They proceeded on their way. Nikita, wrapping
himself well up, and huddling his <head well down
between his shoulders so that his short beard might
lie all round about his neck, sat there in silence,
trying not to lose the warmth with which the tea had
filled him. Right in front of him he saw the straight
lines of the sledge-shafts perpetually deluding him
into the belief that they were on a smooth, level
road ; the waggling hind-quarters of the horse, with
the turned-up knob of the tail hanging over on one
side ; and, further on in front, the lofty arched cross-
piece of the sledge, and the head and neck of the
horse, with its long streaming mane bobbing up and
clown. Now and then his^eyes fell upon a post here
and there, so he knew that so far they were keeping
to the road, and there was nought for him to do.
Vasily Andreich simply drove straight on, leaving
it to the horse itself to keep to the road. But
Brownie, notwithstanding the fact that he had rested
at the village, trotted on unwillingly, and made as
though he would have turned aside from the road,
so that Vasily Andreich had once or twice to put
him right.
" There's one post yonder on the right, and then a
second, and then a third," calculated Vasily Andreich,
" and right in front is the wood," thought he, looking
at some black object in front of him. But what had
appeared to him a wood was only a bush. They
passed the bush, they went on further some twenty
fathoms, and there was no fourth post and no wood.
40
Master and Man
" The wood is bound to show up immediately,"
thought Vasily Andreich, and, excited by the vodka
and the tea, he never stopped, but kept twitching
the reins, and the good, humble horse obeyed him,
and went now at a walking pace and now at a jog-
trot in the direction they were sending him, although
he knew very well that they were not at all sending
him in the direction they ought to have gone. Ten
minutes passed by and still there was no sign of a
road.
" There now, we have lost our way again ! " said
Vasily Andreich, stopping the horse.
Nikita slipped softly out of the sledge, and holding
fast his khalat, which now clung tightly to him from
the impact of the wind, and now was wrenched away
from him and fluttered behind him, began picking
his way through the snow, going first in one direction
and then in another. Three times he was quite
hidden from view. At last he returned, and took the
reins out of the hands of Vasily Andreich.
" We must go to the right," said he, sternly and
decidedly, turning the horse round.
" To the right ? Very well, to the right, by all
means ! " said Vasily Andreich, giving up the reins
and thrusting his benumbed hands down his long
sleeves. " If only we were back in Grishkino," said
he.
Nikita answered not a word.
" Now, my little friend, put your shoulder to it ! "
shrieked he to the horse ; but the horse, despite the
shaking of the reins, only went at a foot-pace. The
snow in some places was up to its knees, and the
41
Tales from Tolstoi
sledge swayed obliquely to and fro at every move-
ment of the 'horse. Nikita got out the whip hang-
ing up in front, and laid on with it. The good
horse, unaccustomed to the whip, started forward at
a trot, but very soon slackened down again to a
walking pace. And so five minutes elapsed. It was
so dark and misty above and below that sometimes
the ends of the sledge were invisible. Sometimes
the sledge seemed to be standing stock-still and the
whole plain to be running backwards. Suddenly the
horse drew up abruptly, evidently feeling that there
was something wrong in front. Again Nikita leaped
lightly from the sledge, threw the reins aside, and
went in front of the horse to see what it was stopping
at ; but scarcely had he taken a step in advance of
the horse when his legs gave way beneath him, and
he rolled down some steep declivity.
" Whew, whew, whew ! " said he to himself, falling
all the time, and trying to stop ; but he could not stay
himself, and only came to a standstill when he found
himself sprawling at the bottom of a deep hole in the
road which had been covered with a thick layer of
snow.
The heap of snow lying on the edge of this ravine,
disturbed by the fall of Nikita, plumped down upon
him and covered him with snow up to the collar.
" To serve me out like that ! 'Tis too bad of you ! "
said Nikita reproachfully, turning towards the heap
of snow and the chasm, and shaking the snow out
of his collar.
" Nick ! Nick ! " shrieked Vasily Andreich from
aloft But Nikita did not shriek back to him. He
42
Master and Man
had something else to think about. First of all he
shook himself free of snow, then he sought for the
whip in the drift it had escaped from his hand when
he had plunged down into the chasm. Having at
last found the whip he tried to climb back the
straightest way the way by which he had fallen.
But there an ascent was impossible. He kept on
slipping back, so that he was obliged to grope his
way about below in order to find an exit from the
chasm Three or four fathoms from the place where
he had rolled down he with difficulty crept to the
top on all-fours, and came out on that side of the
chasm where the horse ought to have been. But he
saw no trace either of the horse or the sledge. When,
however, he turned his face towards the wind, before
he saw them, he heard the shouting of Vasily
Andreich and the neighing of Brownie.
" I'm coming. I'm coming ! " cried he.
As soon as he got near the sledge he perceived the
horse, and Vasily Andreich standing beside it he
loomed forth hugely.
" Where the deuce have you been hiding, eh ? We
must go back, even if we return to Grishkino." It
went against him to bandy words with his serving-
man.
" I should be glad to turn back, Vasily Andreich,
but whither shall we go? The place is full of holes,
and if we fall into one we should never get out again.
I stuck so fast yonder that only with difficulty did I
struggle out again."
" Well, don't stand there doing nothing. We must
go somewhere, I suppose," cried Vasily Andreich.
43
Tales from Tolstoi
Nikita made no answer. He sat him down on the
sledge with his back to the wind, pulled off 'his boots
and shook the snow out of them, and, gathering a
handful of straw, proceeded carefully to stuff it into
a hole inside his left boot.
Vasily Andreich remained silent, as if resolving now
to leave everything to Nikita. After having set his
boots to rights and put them on again, Nikita thrust
his legs into the sledge again, put on his gloves, seized
the reins, and carefully guided the horse alongside
the chasm. But they had not gone one hundred
steps further when the horse again stopped short.
There was another chasm in front of it.
Nikita again got out, and again began groping his
way about amidst the snow. He was away a pretty
long time. At last he reappeared on the opposite
side.
" Vasily Andreich, art thou alive ? " he cried.
" Here I am ! " Vasily Andreich shouted back.
"What is it?"
" I can make out nothing, it is so dark and the
place is full of big holes. We must go again against
the wind."
Again they went on for a little while, again Nikita
got out and tumbled about the snow, again he took
his seat in the sledge ; again he tumbled about, and
at last, thoroughly blown, stopped by the side of the
sledge.
" Well, what's the matter ? " asked Vasily Andreich.
" What's the matter ! why I'm at my wits' end, and
the horse seems to be so too, for he also has stopped
short."
44
Master and Man
" What are we to do, then ? "
" Wait a moment ! " and again Nikita was off : very
shortly he came back.
" Hold on to me and come in front of the horse ! "
Vasily Andreich henceforth gave no more orders,
but meekly did everything which Nikita bade him do.
" Come after me ! " bawled Nikita, moving quickly
to the right, at the same time seizing Brownie by his
bridle and leading him towards the snow-drift. At
first the horse resisted, but presently it pulled itself
together and made a great effort to leap across the
snow-drift, but it could not clear it, and sank in the
snow up to its collar. " Get out ! " cried Nikita to
Vasily Andreich, who had continued sitting in the
sledge ; and seizing one of the shafts, he began to
push the sledge after the horse. "Tis a little bit
difficult, my brother ! " said he turning towards
Brownie, " but we must put our shoulders to the
wheel and do the best we can. Come now! just a
wee bit more ! " he shouted. Once more the horse
exerted itself, and once again, but all the same it did
not move from the spot, and indeed sank down again.
It moved its ears about, sniffed at the snow, and
lowered its head as if it were meditating something.
" How now, brother ! not so easy, is it ? " cried Nikita
encouragingly. " Come along, one more try ! " and
again Nikita pushed away at the shaft on his own
side, and Vasily Andreich did the same on the other
The horse shook its head, and then suddenly put
forth all its strength again.
" Look there ! you do not stick fast after all you
see ! " shouted Nikita.
45
Tales from Tolstoi
One good spring, another, and then a third, and at
last the horse had found its way out of the drift, and
stood there, breathing heavily and shaking in every
lirnb. Nikita would have led him on further, but
Vasily Andreich in his double set of furs had got
so winded that he could not go any further, and fell
back into the sledge.
"Give me time to breathe," said he, untying his
kerchief, which he 'had fastened round the collar of
his fur cloak in the village.
" There's no need for you to do anything, you lie
where you are," said Nikita, " I'll lead him along."
And with Vasily Andreich in the sledge he led the
horse by the bridle some two steps downwards, and
then a little way upwards, and stood still.
The place where Nikita had stopped was not in the
hollow; here and there were some patches of snow,
but it was partially protected from the wind by the
hill There were moments when the wind behind
the hill dropped for a bit, but this did not last long,
and as if to indemnify itself for this respite, the wind
immediately afterwards blew down with tenfold force,
and raged and tore more evilly than ever. Just such
an onslaught of the wind took place at the very
moment when Vasily Andreich, having recovered his
breath, had got out of the sledge, and was going to
Nikita in order to consult with him what was to be
done. Both of them instinctively bent down, and
waited till the fury of the assault had passed over
before they spoke. Brownie also involuntarily
pressed down his ears and shook his head. No
sooner had the gale abated somewhat, than Nikita,
46
Master and Man
taking off his gauntlets and sticking them into his
girdle, and blowing upon his hands to warm them,
began to unfasten the harness from the shafts of the
sledge.
" What are you about there ? " asked Vasily
Andreich.
" I am taking out the horse, what else is there to
be done? I have no more strength left in me,"
answered Nikita, as if by way of apology.
"And you are not going anywhere out of this?"
" Going anywhere ? No ! We are only torturing
the horse uselessly. Look at him, poor old fellow!
he is not himself," said Nikita, pointing at the horse
standing patiently there, ready for anything, but well-
nigh spent and with his flanks all wet and strained.
"We must pass the night here," continued he, as if
making up his mind to fix his night- quarters at some
regular place of call, and he set about unloosening the
strings of the horse-collar.
" But surely we shall be frozen ? " cried Vasily
Andreich.
"What an idea! Don't refuse my proposal, or
freeze you may, perhaps ! " said Nikita.
Vasily Andreich in his double furs was quite warm,
especially after all his bustling about in the chasm;
but a cold shiver ran light down his back when he
understood that he would have to pass the night here.
To compose himself somewhat he continued sitting
in the sledge, and provided himself with cigarettes
and matches.
Nikita, meanwhile, was taking out the horse. He
unfastened the belly-girth and the saddle-strap, laid
47
Tales from Tolstoi
them on one side, undid the thongs of the horse-
collar, took it off, and all the time never ceased talk-
ing to the horse in order to encourage it.
" Out you come, out you come ! " he said, leading
it out of the shafts, " and now we're going to tie you
up. I'll give you some nice straw, and let you go,"
he continued, doing what he said. " Taste and tell
me if you are not having a nice time of it ? "
But Brownie, visibly, was not soothed by Nikita's
words, and indeed was very ill at ease He fidgeted
about from foot to foot, and pressed hard against
the sledge, stood with his back to the wind, and
rubbed his head on Nikita's sleeve.
Just as if he did not want to refuse Nikita's
hospitality with the straw, which Nikita had thrust
beneath his snout, Brownie did, indeed, petulantly
snatch a bit of straw out of the sledge, but im-
mediately afterwards he decided that this was no
time for straw, and threw it away, and instantly the
wind caught it, scattered it, and covered it with snow
"And now we'll make a sign," said Nikita, turning
to the sledge so as to face the wind, and fastening
the saddle-strap to the shafts, he raised them aloft,
and fixed them so that they faced frontwards. " So
there we are, and good people will catch sight of the
shafts and the fluttering strap, and will find us and dig
us out," said Nikita, "just as our elders have told
us."
Meanwhile Vasily Andreich, unloosening his fui
jacket, and crouching beneath its folds, was striking
match after match on his steel match-box, but his
hands trembled, and the matches either did not ignite
48
Master and Man
at all, or were blown out by the wind at the very
moment when 'he raised them to his cigarette. At
last one little match burnt brightly and lit up for an
instant the fur of his cloak, his hand with the gold
ring on the inwardly crooked index finger, and the
oaten straw sprinkled with snow which had forced
its way out of the big sack beneath him and his
cigarette was lighted. Once or twice he greedily
sucked away, swallowed the smoke, puffed it out
through his lips, and would have lit up again, but the
tobacco and the matches dropped from his grasp and
were lost somewhere or other amidst the straw.
Yet even those few whiffs of tobacco had cheered
up Vasily Andreich.
" Well, if we are to stay the night 'here, we must
make the best of it ! " said he decidedly. And catch-
ing sight of the elevated shafts, the desire seized him
to make this sign of distress still more forcible and
give Nikita a lesson. " You just wait a bit, and I'll
make a flag of it," said he, picking up his handker-
chief, which he had taken from his neck and thrown
into the sledge ; and taking off his gloves and stretch-
ing forward to reach the shafts, he fastened the hand-
kerchief with a thick knot to the saddle-strap at the
end of the shafts.
The little bit of cloth immediately began shivering
violently, now clinging to the shafts, now suddenly
bulging out, stretching, and fluttering.
" What do you say^ to that ? " cried Vasily Andreich,
delighted with his handiwork, and he crept into the
sledge again. " 'Twould be warmer if we both sat
close together, and you won't, I suppose," said he.
49
G
Tales from Tolstoi
" Oh, I'll find a place," said Nikita, " but I must
first cover the horse, the poor thing is all over sweat
Pray let go ! " he added ; and approaching the sledge,
he drew out the large sack from beneath Vasily
Andreich, and having got hold of it, he folded it in
two, and covered Brownie with it, first of all unloosen-
ing and taking off his harness.
"You'll be all the warmer for it, you little fool,"
said he, placing over the horse, on the top of the
sack, the saddle and the heavy harness.
"And now, if you don't want it, I'll have the big
apron, and let me have some straw too," said Nikita,
and having finished with the horse he turned back
to the sledge.
And taking both apron and straw from beneath
Vasily Andreich, he went to the back cf the sledge,
dug himself out a hole in the snow, filled it with straw,
and pressing his hat down over his eyes, wrapping
himself round in his kaftan and covering himself over
with the apron, he sat on the heaped-up straw, leaning
against the back of the sledge, which protected him
from the wind and the snow.
Vasily Andreich shook his head disapprovingly at
what Nikita was doing (he disapproved in general of
the stupidity and want of culture of all muzhiks),
and then he set about making himself comfortable for
the night.
He smoothed out all the straw remaining in the
sledge, tucked it more closely beneath and around
'him, drew his hands up his sleeves, and disposed his
head comfortably in the front corner of the sledge,
where he was sheltered from the wind and snow.
Master and Man
He did not want to sleep. He lay a-thinking
thinking always of one and the same thing, that
constituted the end and the aim and the pride and
the joy of his life of how he had made a lot of
money, and might make still more money, of how
many other people he knew were making and had
made money, and how these other people kept on
making and would continue to make money, and how
he, just like them, might still earn lots and lots of
money.
" The oak wood will do for sledge-shafts, they'll
make capital beams as they stand ; there's quite thirty
fathoms of firewood too, per desyatin"* he calculated,
thinking of the copse inspected by him in the autumn,
and which he was now going to purchase. " I won't
give 10,000 for it, all the same, but only 8,000, for
something ought to be deducted for that little field.
I'll grease the palm of the surveyor with a hundred
or a hundred and fifty, he'll measure me the field
at about five desyatins. And I can let it afterwards
as an eight desyatin field. There's 3,000 profit
down on the nail. Never fear, I'll manage it," thought
he, fumbling with the tips of his fingers after the
memorandum book in his pocket. "And how we
managed to lose the turning God only knows. There
ought to be a wood and a keeper's hut hereabouts.
We ought to be hearing a dog too. Why can't the
cussed things bark when they are wanted to bark ? "
He opened his collar a little and began to listen and
look about him. The only thing visible in the dark-
* A desyatin = 2,400 sq. fathoms.
51
Tales from Tolstoi
ness was the blackening head of Brownie, and his
back, on which the large sack was flapping ; and the
only thing to be heard was the whistling of the wind,
the fluttering and shivering of the piece of cloth on
the upright sledge-shaft, and the pattering of the
snow on the back of the sledge. He covered him-
self up again, " Well, if we must make a night of it,
we must, that's all. 'Tis all one if we wait for to-
morrow. It will only be a day lost, and the others
will never be able to get there in such weather." And
then he recollected that on the gth he ought to receive
money from the butcher for a gelded ram. " He will
come himself, he won't find me, and my wife does
not understand money matters : she has no manners,
and doesn't understand polite intercourse at all," he
continued thinking, calling to mind how she had not
known how to converse with the local magistrate who
had been among his guests at the feast the evening
before. " But of course, where did the woman ever
see the like before? What sort of a place was her
parents' home, after all? Why, her father was but
a rich village muzhik, with a pot-house and that sort
of thing, and that's all But what haven't I done
during these last fifteen years? Why, I've set a-going
a shop, two inns, and a mill. And I rent two
properties. And I've got a house with a storeroom
under an iron roof," he proudly reflected. " / got
nothing from my parents. And whose voice is it
now that lays down the law in the neighbourhood?
Why, Brekhunov's,* of course!
* Himself.
52
Master and Man
"And how did it come about? Why, because I
recollect what I am about, and put my shoulder to
the wheel, and don't loaf about and do foolishly, as
do the others. Why, I don't even sleep o' nights.
Snowstorm or no snowstorm, off I go. And there's
a way of doing things, too. Some people think that
making money is a mere joke. Not a bit of it, one
has to take a little trouble, and rack one's brains
about it. They think it's all a matter of luck. Look
at the Mironovs, they are millionaires, and why? be-
cause they took trouble! God gives His help, too,
no doubt ; and ah ! if HE would but give the health
and strength ! " And the bare thought that he, too,
like Mironov, who began the world with nothing that
he, too, might become just such another millionaire,
so inspired Vasily Andreich that he felt the necessity
of talking to someone else. But there was no one
to talk to. If only he could get to Goryachkina, he
could speak a bit with the landowner there, and teach
him a thing or two.
" Whew, how it blows ! And all the roads will be
so snowed up that they'll never get us out of this
to-morrow," thought he, listening to the wailing of
the wind, which was blowing full upon the front of
the sledge, bending it inwards and flogging it with
lumps of snow.
"And all for nothing have I listened to Nikita,"
thought he. " We ought to have gone on. We should
have come out somewhere. We might have gone
back to Grishkino and passed the night at Taras'.
And now we shall have to sit here all night long. A
nice thing, I must say. What a lot I have to put up
53
Tales from Tolstoi
with, and yet I am neither a loafer nor a vagabond,
nor yet a blockhead. Never mind, I'll smoke a bit."
So he sat down, managed to fish out his cigarette
box again, lay down flat on his stomach, and shielded
the fire from the wind with his sleeve ; yet the wind
found its way in and extinguished the matches one
after the other. At last he cunningly managed to
dodge the wind. The cigarette was lit, and the idea
of having got his own way again, after all, pleased
him mightily. Although the wind got much more
of the cigarette than he did, he nevertheless inhaled
the tobacco smoke several times, and again felt merry.
He again curled himself away in the back part of the
sledge, wrapped himself up, and again began calcu-
lating and reflecting, and so he fell asleep. Suddenly
something or other touched him and woke him.
Whether it was Brownie that plucked at him from
without, or whether something within him had twitched
him, who shall say anyhow he awoke, and his heart
fell a-beating so rapidly and so violently that the
very sledge seemed to be surging up and down beneath
him. He opened his eyes. Around him everything
was the same as before, only it seemed much lighter.
" It is the dawn," thought he, " it won't be very long
now, surely, till morning." But immediately he be-
thought him that it could only be because the moon
had risen that it was so much brighter. He raised
himself up and looked first of all at the horse.
Brownie was standing with his hind-quarters to the
wind and shaking all over. The large sack, covered
with snow, had half turned over, the harness was all
awry, and the horse's head, all covered with snow,
54
Master and Man
stood out all the more plainly, with its fluttering mane.
Nikita was sitting in precisely the same position in
which he had sat at first. The coarse cloth or apron
with which he had covered himself, together with
his feet, were thickly covered with snow. " I wonder
the muzhik isn't frozen with only those wretched rags
on him. I am responsible for him still, I suppose.
He's tired with skipping about ; he's not a very good
investment for me, either, I fancy," reflected Vasily
Andreich, and he would liked to have taken the sack
off the horse and covered Nikita with it ; but it would
have made him cold all over to have stood up and
turned round, and then he was afraid that the horse
might get frozen instead. " Why did I ever take
him? It is all her stupidity!" reflected Vasily
Andreich, thinking of his wife, and again he rolled
himself up comfortably in his former place in the
front part of the sledge. " Besides, an uncle of mine
once passed a whole night in the snow, and was none
the worse for it," he reflected. " But then there was
Sebastian, whom they dug up" recalling another
case " he was quite dead, frozen hard all over, like
a salted porpoise."
" I ought to have stayed the night at Grishkino,
and nothing would have happened." And very care-
fully wrapping himself up again, so that not a bit of
the warm furs was wasted, and he could feel the
warmth of them everywhere in his neck, in his
knees, and in the soles of his feet, he closed his eyes
and tried to sleep. But try as he would he could not
forget where he was, such a wakeful, lively feeling
possessed him. Again he began calculating his
55
Tales from Tolstoi
profits and losses, again he began to exalt himself for
his own satisfaction, and rejoice in himself and his
position but now, through it all, he was constantly
interrupted by a subtly creeping fear, and the irri-
tating thought : " Why did I not stay and sleep at
Grishkino ? " Now and then he would turn him round,
rearrange his things, and try and find a more com-
fortable position a position more sheltered from the
wind. But he never could manage it, everything
seemed wrong. Again he raised himself up, changed
his position, wrapped his feet up again, closed his
eyes, and lay still. But either his feet, cramped in
'his big, stiff top-boots, began to ache, or a blast blew
upon him from some whither, and he couldn't lie long
in one place ; and again came the angry reflection
how he might now be lying comfortably in a warm
room at Grishkino ; and again he would raise him-
self and turn round and rearrange his wraps, and
again lay him down.
Once it seemed to Vasily Andreich as if he heard
far, far away the crowing of cocks. Full of joy, he
turned down his fur collar and strained his ears to
listen, but no sooner did he bend all his faculties to
listen, than there was nothing to be heard except
the sound of the wind whistling in the shafts, and
the snow pattering against the sides of the sledge.
Nikita was sitting just as 'he had sat the evening
before, without moving, and not even replying to the
observations of Vasily Andreich, who once or twice
called out to him. " There's very little the matter
with him, he must be asleep surely," thought Vasily
Andreich peevishly, looking through the back of the
56
Master and Man
sledge at the form of Nikita, which was all covered
with snow.
And thus Vasily Andreich rose and changed his
place twenty times. It seemed to him as if this night
would never come to an end. " It ought to be quite
near to morning now," thought he on one of these
occasions, raising himself up and looking around. " If
I could only look at a watch. A fellow might freeze
here if he unbuttoned. If I only knew that morning
was close at hand I should feel all right. We could
then inspan." Now at the bottom of his soul Vasily
Andreich was well aware that it could not yet be
morning ; but he was beginning to be more and more
violently afraid, and would fain prove and deceive
himself at the same time. He cautiously unfastened
the little hook of his pelisse, and thrusting his arm
into his bosom, he groped about for a long time till
he managed to reach his waistcoat. With great diffi-
culty with great, great difficulty he drew forth his
silver flower-enamelled watch, and began a-staring
at it. Without a light nothing was visible. Again
he lay down on one side, just as when he had begun
smoking, managed to get the matches, and fell
a-striking them. He now set about the business more
methodically, and groping with his fingers, so as to
pick out the match with the largest bit of phosphorus
on it, he struck it alight at the first attempt. Thrust-
ing the face of the watch beneath the light, he looked
and did not believe his own eyes. It was only ten
minutes past one. The whole night still lay before
him.
"Oh, the long, long night!" thought Vasily
57
Tales from Tolstoi
Andreich to himself, as a cold shiver ran down his
back, and buttoning and covering himself up again,
he squeezed himself fast against the corner of the
sledge. Suddenly, amidst the monotonous wail of the
wind, he distinctly heard a sort of strange piercing
sound. This sound gradually increased in volume,
and after reaching its highest pitch began to diminish
just as gradually. There could not be the least doubt
that it was the howl of a wolf. And this wolf was so
close that when the wind blew in the right quarter
the stretching of the beast's jaws could be plainly
heard as he modulated the sound of his voice. Vasily
Andreich put aside his collar and listened intently.
Brownie also listened fixedly, twitching his ears about
the while ; and when the wolf had ended its perform-
ance the horse shifted its feet uneasily and neighed.
After that, Vasily Andreich not only could not sleep,
but could no longer feel at his ease. However much
he now might try to think of his accounts, of his
affairs, of his glory, his dignity, and his riches, fear
began to master him more and more, and from hence-
forth the thought, " Why did I not pass the night at
Grishkino ? " crept in among and dominated all other
thoughts.
" If it hadn't been for this wood I'm after, plague
take it! I should have passed the night there. Ah!
why didn't I ? " he thought to himself. " They say
the tipsy are never frozen," he continued to meditate,
" and I took a tidy drop myself." And paying more
attention to his sensations, he became aware that he
was beginning to tremble, and he himself did not
know whether it was from cold or from fear that he
58
Master and Man
was trembling. He tried to wrap himself up and lie
down as before, but this he was no longer able to
do. He could not settle down in one place. He
wanted to stand up and do something, so as to choke
off the feeling of terror that was gripping him, and
against which he felt himself helpless. Again he
got out his cigarettes and matches, but there were
only three matches left, and all of them of the worst.
All three fizzled out without lighting anything.
" Mischief take you, accursed one ! " he cried
though whom he was cursing he would have been
hard put to it to say as he threw away the crushed
cigarette. He would have liked to have crushed the
match-box also, but he went no further than the wish,
and stuck it back into his pocket again. And now
such a restlessness came over him that he could no
longer stop in one place. So he got out of the
sledge, and standing with his back to the wind, began
to gird himself up again tightly and low down.
" To go on lying down here means certain death.
Up in the saddle and quick march ! " was the idea
that suddenly came into his head. " Get once on the
nag's back and he won't stop for anything. As for
him " (it was Nikita he meant now), " it doesn't much
matter whether he dies or not What sort of a life
does he. live why, he wouldn't regret losing it one
bit, I'm sure. But as for me, I really have got some-
thing to live for, thank God! . . ."
And leading forth the horse he threw the reins
over its neck, and would have leaped on its back, but
missed his footing. Then he stood on the sledge
and would have mounted from there, but the sledge
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Tales from Tolstoi
swerved aside under his weight, and again he fell
down. At last, for the third time, he brought the
horse alongside the sledge, and cautiously standing
on the edge of it, by dint of much striving contrived
at last to get his stomach across the neck of the
horse. Lying there, he wriggled forward once or
twice, and at last succeeded in bringing one leg across
the back of the horse, and presently found himself
sitting on its back, supporting himself in lieu of
stirrups with the soles of his feet. The lurch of the
oscillating sledge awoke Nikita ; he stood up, and it
seemed to Vasily Andreich as if he were saying some-
thing.
" To listen to you would be folly. What ! do you
think that I'm going to perish without one effort?"
screeched Vasily Andreich, and adjusting under his
knees the bulging folds of his pelisse, he turned the
horse, and urged it away from the sledge in the
direction in which he imagined the forest and the
forester's hut must needs be.
VII,
Nikita, from the time when he had sat him down
wrapped up in the sacking at the back of the sledge,
had sat immovable. Like all people who live natur-
ally, and know something of want, he had grown to
be long-suffering, and could wait calmly for hours, and
even days, without experiencing either disquietude
or irritation. He heard his master calling to him, but
he did not reply, because he did not want to move.
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Master and Man
The thought that he might, and in all probability
would die that very night, had occurred to him when
he had sat down behind the sledge. Although still
warm from the tea he had drunk, and from moving
about so much among the snow-drifts, he knew that
this warmth would not last long, and that he would
not be able to warm himself any more by mere loco-
motion, for he felt himself growing very weary ; he felt
himself in the condition a horse feels himself to be
when he stops short, and has to be fed in order that
he may go on working. Moreover, one of his feet
in its bursted foot was frost-bitten, and his big toe
had lost all sense of feeling. And his whole body was
growing colder and colder.
The thought that he would die that very night
did not strike him as particularly unpleasant or as
particularly dreadful. The thought of it did not
strike him as particularly unpleasant, because his whole
life had never been a perpetual feast ; on the contrary
it had been an interminable servitude of which he was
beginning to weary. The thought of death was not
particularly terrible, because he felt himself dependent
not only upon those masters, like Vasily Andreich,
whom he had served here below, but also upon that
Chief Master who had sent him into this life, and he
knew that even when he died he would still be in
the power of that Master, and that that Master would
do him no harm.
" 'Tis a pity to chuck away as useless what one has
lived into and got accustomed to ; but how can it be
helped? one must get accustomed to a new state of
things, that's all."
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Tales from Tolstoi
" And how about sins ? " that was the next idea
that got into his head, and he bethought him of his
drunkenness, of the money he had squandered, of his
bad treatment of his wife, of his cursing and swear-
ing, of his neglect of church-going, of his non-
observance of the fasts, and of all that the priest had
talked to him about at confession. " Yes, there are
sins, certainly. But did I saddle myself with them,
to begin with? Did not God make me just as I am?
Still, they are sins all the same, no doubt. How will
you get rid of them ? "
Thus, then, did he think of what might happen to
him that night, and decided the matter by abandoning
himself freely to those random reflections and recollec-
tions which chanced to come into his head. And he
called to mind the coming of Marfa, and the drunken-
ness of the workpeople, and his own renunciation of
drink, and the present expedition, and the room at
the Tarases, and the talk about the division of the
property. And he called to mind his little one, and
Brownie, who was now growing warm beneath the
horse-cloth, and his master who made the sledge creak
as he turned and twisted. " I suppose now he is in
a pretty fume because he came here," thought he.
" He doesn't like dying out of such a life as his is
our brother* is in a very different boat." And all
these thoughts and recollections began to mingle and
mix together in his head, and he fell asleep.
When Vasily Andreich had got astride the horse,
and jolted the sledge, and the back part of it against
which Nikita was leaning was shoved aside altogether
* Himself.
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Master and Man
and struck Nikita in the back with its curved top, he
awoke, and was compelled, willy-nilly, to change his
position. With difficulty he straightened out his legs,
and brushing the snow off them, rose to his feet ;
and immediately the murderous cold ran through his
whole body. Understanding now what was the
matter, he wanted Vasily Andreich to leave him the
big sack which was no longer necessary for the horse,
so that he might cover himself therewith; it was
about that that he had called to his master.
But Vasily Andreich did not stop, but disappeared
in the snowy dust. Abandoned thus, Nikita thought
for a moment what he should do. He no longer felt
able to go and seek a dwelling ; to sit down in his
old place was impossible, it was covered with snow
already. In the sledge itself he was sensible he could
not get warm, because he had nothing to cover him-
self with for any warming purposes his kaftan and
furs were quite useless. He was as cold as if he were
standing there in nothing but his shirt. He stood
there pondering a little while, then heaved a sigh,
and, without taking the coarse cloth web from off his
head, rolled into the sledge in the place where his
master had lain.
He squeezed himself into a ball at the very bottom
of the sledge, but nohcw could he get warm. Thus
he lay for five minutes shivering all over ; then the
shivering feeling passed away, and he began to lose
consciousness Whether he were dying or slumbering
he did not know, but he felt just as ready for one
as for the other. If God bade him wake up again
alive in this world to live as before by the labour of
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Tales from Tolstoi
his hands to go on taking care of other people's
horses, to go on carrying other people's corn to the
mill, and loafing about generally, so as thereby
to earn more money to give to his wife, why
then, His Holy Will be done. Or if God bade him
wake up in that other world, where everything would
be so new and joyful, just as things are all so new
and joyful here below in our first childhood, with our
mother's caresses, and the games with other children,
and the pleasant woods and meadows, and skating
and sliding in the winter, so that there's nothing ever
like it afterwards if God bade him wake up in that
other life where all is new then likewise, His Holy
Will be done! And then Nikita lost consciousness
altogether.
VIII.
Meanwhile Vasily Andreich with his feet and the
ends of the reins was urging on the horse in the
direction where, somehow or other, he had persuaded
himself lay the forest and the forester's hut. The
snow blinded his eyes, and the wind seemed to wish
to stop him ; but still he pressed forward, perpetually
seizing the folds of his pelisse, and thrusting them
between himself and the cold brass bosses of the
saddle, which prevented him from sitting properly,
yet never ceasing to urge on the horse. The horse,
not without difficulty, yet doggedly, continued to go
at a foot-pace in the direction whither he was guided.
For five minutes he went, as he fancied, quite
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Master and Man
straight, seeing nothing but the head of the horse and
the white wilderness, and hearing nothing but the
whistling of the wind about the ears of the horse and
the collar of his pelisse.
Suddenly something black loomed out before him.
His heart beat joyfully within him, and he went
straight towards this black something, seeing in it
already the walls of the houses of a village. But this
black thing was not motionless, for it went on
and on ; it was not a village, but a boundary ridge
overgrown with lofty mugwort* peeping up above the
snow, and beaten all awry by the force of the wind
whistling through it. And somehow or other the
sight of this mugwort thus tormented by the pitiless
wind, made Vasily Andreich tremble in sympathy,
and he hastily urged his horse away, not observing
as he did so that he had completely changed his
former bearings, and was now urging his horse in
quite another direction and away from where the
forester's hut might have been. The horse indeed
kept on turning to the right, whilst he himself for
that very reason twisted him round to the left.
Again something black appeared in front of him.
He rejoiced, for now, he fancied, this was really the
village. But it was again the boundary ridge over-
grown with the weeds of the steppes. Again the
steppe-grass shivered tremulously, thereby inspiring
Vasily Andreich with terror. Nor was this all. Not
only was this the selfsame steppe-grass that he had
seen before, but close beside him was a horse's track,
* Artemisia
H
Tales from Tolstoi
partly obliterated by the wind. Vasily Andreich
stopped, bent down, and looked at it fixedly ; it was
indeed the faintly outlined track of a horse, and could
be nothing but the track of his own horse. He had
obviously gone in a circle, and that, too, within no
very great space. " So it is all up with me," thought
he ; but in order not to give way to his terror, he
began to urge the horse on more violently than ever,
gazing the while into the white, snowy mist, in which
nothing was to be seen except now and then sundry
little points of light suddenly appearing and as
quickly vanishing again. Sometimes it seemed to
him as if he heard the barking of a dog or a wolfs
howl, but these sounds were so faint and undefined
that he did not know whether he heard the sound or
whether he only imagined he heard it ; and stopping
short, he began to listen very intently.
Suddenly a terrible, all-engulfing shriek resounded
about his very ears, and everything beneath him
shivered and trembled. Vasily Andreich seized his
horse by the neck, but the very neck of the horse
was also shuddering ; and the frightful shriek grew
still more terrible. For some seconds Vasily Andreich
could not rally his wits or understand what had
happened. Yet all that had happened was this:
Brownie, either to put heart into himself, or to call
to someone to help, had screeched ihis loudest with
his shrill, piercing voice.
" Whew ! what a fright I was in ! " said Vasily
Andreich to himself.
But although he now understood the true cause of
his terror, he could not drive it away.
Master and Man
" I must be steady, and think it all over," he said
to himself; and yet for all that he could not take
things quietly, but kept urging the horse on, not
observing that he was now going with the wind
instead of against it. His body, especially the part
touching the saddle and uncovered by the furs, was
freezing cold, very painful, and trembling all over.
He had now forgotten to think of the forester's hut.
His mind was now fixed on one thing only : to get
back to the sledge, so as not to perish all alone, like
that bit of mugwort in the midst of the snowy wilder-
ness.
Suddenly the horse stumbled beneath him, and
sinking into a gap, began plunging about and fell upon
its side. Vasily Andreich fell with it, clinging on
to the harness, in which his foot was entangled, and
to the saddle, which turned over with him. No
sooner had Vasily Andreich fallen off than the horse
righted itself, rushed ahead, took a plunge forward
and then another, neighed again, and dragging after
it the trailing sacking and the harness, disappeared,
leaving Vasily Andreich alone in the pit. Vasily
Andreich rushed after him, but the snow was so deep,
and the furs he had on him were so heavy, that he
sank up to the knee at each stride he began to pant,
and stopped short to breathe after no more than the
first twenty paces. " The spinny, the stallions, the
shops, the taverns, the land to be rented what will
become of it all? What does it all amount to now?
Nothing can come of it all ! " This was the thought
that now flashed through his head. And then he
called to mind again the clump of mugwort swaying
Tales from Tolstoi
in the wind, which he had already passed twice, and
such a terror fell upon him that he did not believe
in the reality of what was actually happening to him.
" Is not all this a dream ? " he thought of himself ;
and he wanted to awake from his dream, but there
could be no awakening, for it was reality. It was
really snow which stung his face like a whip and
threatened to overwhelm him ; it was really a wilder-
ness in which he now found himself all alone, like
that clump of black mugwort, awaiting a rapid, an
inevitable, an unthinkable death.
"O Heavenly Queen! O Wonder-working Nicholas.
Teach me the way of abstinence ! " he began, calling
to mind the vesper prayers, and the holy image with
the black face and the golden ornaments, and the
tapers which he had bought for this holy image
the tapers which had been brought back to him im-
mediately, and which he had hidden away in his
strong box, though they had scarce been more than
lighted. And yet now he was praying this selfsame
Nicholas, the Wonder-worker, to save him, and was
promising him prayers and fresh tapers. But now,
too, he clearly understood, without any doubt, that
this image, this rich ornamentation, these tapers and
the clergy with their prayers all these things 'were
very important and necessary in church, but that here
they could do nothing for him, for between those
tapers and those images and his present miserable
condition there was not and could not be any con-
nection.
" I must not lose heart, I must follow up the traces
of the horse, though both they and it are now covered
68
Master and Man
with snow." This was the idea that came into his
head next, and he plunged forward. But despite his
resolution of going quietly, he set off running, fell
continually, rose up, and again fell down. The track
of the horse was now scarcely distinguishable in the
places where the snow was not thick. ' " It is all up
with me," thought Vasily Andreich, " I am losing
even this track." But the same instant, looking for-
ward, he perceived something black. It was Brownie,
and not only Brownie, but the sledge and the upright
shafts. Brownie with the broken saddle all awry, and
the harness and the sacking, was standing there, not
in his former place, but nearer to the shafts, and was
moving about his head, which was drawn somewhat
downwards by the dragging reins. Apparently Vasily
Andreich had sunk into the same drift into which he
and Nikita together had fallen before, the horse had
led him back to the sledge, and he had leaped from
the horse not more than fifty paces from the place
where the sledge was.
IX.
Staggering up to the sledge, Vasily Andreich
clutched hold of it and stood for a long time im-
movable, trying to calm himself and recover his
breath. Nikita was no longer in his former place,
but in the sledge something was lying already
covered with snow; and Vasily Andreich guessed
that this was Nikita. Vasily Andreich's terror had
now quite passed over, and if there was anything he
feared now it was only the return of that horrible
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Tales from Tolstoi
feeling of terror lie had experienced on horseback,
and also and especially when he had been left all
alone in the pit. He must, above all things, prevent
this terror from getting at him again ; and for that
reason he felt he must think no more about himself,
but think of someone else, and above all do some-
thing. And therefore the first thing he did was this :
he stood with his back to the wind and unbuttoned
his pelisse. After that, when he had recovered his
breath a little, he shook the snow out of his boots
and gloves, girded himself tightly and low down, as
he was wont to do when he went forth from his store
to buy bread from the wagons of the itinerant
muzhiks, and prepared for work. The first thing
which it occurred to him to do was to free the legs
of the horse from the harness. This, then, Vasily
Andreich proceeded to do, and having freed the horse,
he tied Brownie again to the iron hook in front of the
sledge, in the old place, and then went round to the
other side of the horse to set right the saddle, bridle,
and sacking coverlet. But at that moment he
observed something beginning to move in the sledge
under its layer of snow, and the head of Nikita peeped
up. Obviously only with great exertion, the muzhik
rose up into a sitting position and made an odd
motion with his hand, as if he were driving away a
fly from his face, and said something or other, calling
him, or so it seemed to Vasily Andreich.
Vasily Andreich left the sacking where it was with-
out arranging it, and approached the sledge.
"What do you want?" he asked, "what do you
say?''
70
Master and Man
"I I'm a-dy dy ing, that's what's the matter,"
gasped Nikita in a broken voice ; his words seemed
to come with difficulty. " Give what I have earned
to my little one. Nay, to my old woman but it is
all one."
"What, are you frost-bitten?" asked Vasily
Andreich.
" I feel death is at hand. . . . Forgive ! tor
Christ's sake ! " said Nikita in a tearful voice, con-
tinuing all along to move his hands about as if he
were brushing a fly away from his face.
For half a moment Vasily Andreich stood there in
silence without moving. Then, with the selfsame
energy with which he used to clap his hands at the
result of a successful bargaining, he took a step back-
wards, stripped back the sleeves of his pelisse, and
proceeded with both hands to sweep the snow off
Nikita and out cf the sledge. After sweeping out
the snow, Vasily Andreich swiftly ungirded himself,
spread out his pelisse, and falling on Nikita, lay down
upon him, covering him not only with his pelisse but
with the whole of his body, now warm with working.
Stretching out the folds of the pelisse with his
hands between the sides of the sledge and Nikita,
and pressing it down at the sides with his knees,
Vasily Andreich lay there right across the sledge,
as low as he could, leaning his head against the front
part of it ; and now he heard neither the movements
cf the horse nor the whistling of the storm Nikita's
breathing was all he could hear. For a long time
Nikita lay there motionless presently he sighed
deeply and began to move, evidently growing warmer.
" Why, there you are, getting on nicely ! and yet
just now you said you were dying. Lie still and
get warm ! We're all right you see ... ! " Thus
began Vasily Andreich . . .
But farther than that, to his great astonishment,
he could not get, for the tears gushed out of his eyesi
and his lower jaw was all quivering. He ceased to
speak, and simply swallowed what had got into his
throat.
" I've a little overdone it, that's plain, I'm quite
weak," thought he to himself. Yet this same weak-
ness was not only not unpleasant to him, but afforded
him a peculiar sort of joy, the like of which he had
never experienced before.
" Yes, here we are," said he to himself, experiencing
a sort of compassionate triumph. And thus he lay
silent for a pretty long time, drying his eyes on 'the
fur of his pelisse, and keeping well beneath his knee
the right-hand corner of the pelisse, which kept flap-
ping in the wind. But he had such an eager desire
to talk to someone, so joyous did he feel. " Nick,
lad!" said he.
" I'm nice and warm," resounded from the sledge
beneath him.
" That's right, my brother ! I had almost perished,
and you had all but frozen to death ; and as for
me . . ."
But at this point his jaws became all tremulous
again, and his eyes again filled with tears, and he
could say no more,
" Well, it doesn't matter," he said to himself. " I in
my own heart know what I know ! " and he was silent.
72
Master and Man
Now and then he looked at the horse, and saw that
its back was uncovered, and the sacking and the
harness were hanging in the snow ; and he felt he
ought to get up and cover the horse, but he could not
make up his mind to leave Nikita for a moment, and
disturb that happy condition in which he found him-
self. He felt no thought of terror now.
He felt warm below from contact with Nikita, and
warm above from the pelisse ; only his hands, with
which he was holding fast the corners of the pelisse
close to Nikita's sides, and his feet, from which the
wind was constantly blowing away the pelisse, began to
be frost-bitten. - But he did not think of them, he only
thought of warming the muzhik lying beneath him.
" Never fear, we won't give in," said he to himself, at
the idea of keeping the muzhik warm, with the same
boastful self-confidence with which he had been wont
to talk of his buying and selling.
And thus Vasily Andreich lay there for a pretty
long time. At first his imagination was occupied with
impressions of the snowstorm, the raised shafts of the
sledge, and the horse beneath the harness, all of which
glimmered Before his eyes, and with thoughts of
Nikita lying beneath him. Presently there inter-
mingled with these thoughts recollections of the feast,
of his wife, of the magistrate, of the candle-chest;
and then his mind flew back again to Nikita, who
seemed to be lying beneath this chest. Then he
began to see before him muzhiks buying and selling,
and white walls, and houses with iron roofs, beneath
which Nikita was lying. And presently all this was
mixed up together, and passed into something else,
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Tales from Tolstoi
and, like flowery meadows uniting together into one
wide, wide world, all these various impressions ended
in a mere blank, and he fell asleep. He slept for a
long time without dreaming, but just before dawn
visions again appeared. He imagined that he was
standing before the candle-chest, and Tikhincv's old
woman asked of him a penny candle against the feast.
He would have taken a candle and given it to her,
but his hands wouM not lift up, but remained fast fixed
in his pockets. He wanted to go round the chest, but
his legs would not move, and his new brightly
polished goloshes grew into the stone floor, and he
could not lift them up, nor could he draw his feet out
of them. And suddenly the candle-chest was no
longer the candle-chest, but a bed, and Vasily Andreich
saw himself lying prone on the candle-chest that
was really his own bed in his own house. There he
lay upon his bed, and could not stand up, and he had
to stand up because the magistrate, Ivan Matvyeich,
was just coming to see him, and he had to go with
Ivan Matvyeich on business about some wood or
other, or to adjust Brownie's harness, he was not sure
which. And he kept on asking his wife, "What!
hasn't he called ? " " Nay," she said, " he has not
called " And then he heard someone passing by the
door. " Here he is it must be he." " No, he has
passed by." " Then it's Mikolama, eh ? Or is there
nobody at all? " 1 " There's nobody." * And there he
lay on his bed, and all the time he could not get up,
and he was expecting something, and this expecta-
tion was both grievous and pleasant at the same time.
And at last the pleasurable feeling get the upper hand,
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Master and Man
and he whom he expected was coming, and it was not
the magistrate, Ivan Matvyeich, but someone else,
and yet this other someone was the person whom
he was expecting. And the expected One came and
called him, and He who now called him was the self-
same person who had commanded him to lie on
Nikita, And Vasily Andreich was glad that this
Someone had called for him. "I am coming!" he
cried joyfully. And his own cry awoke him.
And he awoke, but he awoke no longer the man he
was when he fell asleep. He would have stood
up, but he could not. He would have moved his hand,
but he could not. He would have moved his foot,
but he could not. He would have turned his head
round, and this also he could not do And he was
surprised thereat, but by no means troubled He
understood that this was death, but the thought
thereof gave him no anxiety, and he recollected that
Nikita lay beneath him, and that he had grown warm
and was alive ; and it seemed to him as if he were
Nikita, and Nikita was he, and that he lived not in
himself but in Nikita. He strained his hearing, and
could hear the faint breathing of Nikita. " Nikita is
alive, and that is the same as my being alive ! " he said
to himself triumphantly. And a feeling quite new to
him, a feeling he had never felt all his life long before,
now came over him.
And he bethought him of his money, and his shop,
and of his buying and selling, and of the millions of
the Mironovs, and it was hard for him to understand
why that man whom they called Vasily Brekhunov*
Himself.
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Tales from Tolstoi
had occupied himself with all those things which he
had occupied himself with. " Why, he did not know
what his real business was at all," thought he of Vasily
Brekhunov. " He did not know as I know now yes,
now 1 do know all about it, and no mistake." And
again he heard the voice of Him Who was calling
him. And his whole being cried out joyfully and
intelligently, " I am coming! I am coming! " And he
felt that he was free, and that nothing held him
any longer.
And Vasily Andreich saw and heard and felt
nothing more in this world.
And all around there was the same blank white-
ness, like fine smoke. And the same snowstorms
went whirling round, and they covered up the pelisse
of the dead Vasily Andreich, and the all-trembling
body of Brownie, and the sledge now scarcely visible,
and Nikita lying warm at the bottom of the sledge
beneath the body of his dead master.
X.
Niktia awoke before morning. He was awakened
by the cold, which had penetrated to his back once
more. He had dreamt that he was coming from the
mill with a wagon-load of his masters' meal, and as
he was passing by the bridge at Lyafrin the wagon
stuck fast And he saw in his dream how he went
under the wagon to lift it up, arching his back to do
so. But, marvellous to relate, the waggon did not
move, but clave to his back, and he could neither raise
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Master and Man
the wagon nor get out from under it! He used
his whole strength to it. And ugh ! how- cold it was !
Creep out from it he must. " And I'll do it, too ! "
he said to someone who was pushing his back with
the wagon. " Take out the sacks ! " But the wagon
kept pressing upon him, and it got ever colder and
colder, and suddenly something gave him a harder
bump than usual, and he woke up and remembered
everything. The cold wagon was his dead and frozen
master lying upon him. And the someone who had
bumped was Brownie kicking out twice with his hoofs
against the sledge.
" Andreich ! Andreich ! " cried Nikita, already fore-
seeing something of the truth, calling warily to the
form of his master, who was weighing down his back.
But Andreich did not answer, and his stomach and
his legs were stiff and cold, and as heavy as weights.
" He must be dead," thought Nikita. " May he
rest in the Kingdom of Heaven ! "
He turned his head round, dug away the snow in
front of him with his arm, and opened his eyes. It
was quite light. The wind was still whistling through
the shafts, and the snow was still sweeping down ;
but with this difference, that it was no longer smiting
against them, but was noiselessly enveloping the
sledge and the horse, rising ever higher and higher,
and the movements and breathing of the horse were
no longer audible. " He too must have frozen to
death," thought Nikita of Brownie. And indeed
those hoof-kicks against the sledge which had
awakened Nikita had been the last dying efforts of
the already half-frozen Brownie to keep his legs,
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41 Lord and Father ! it is plain that Thou art calling
me also," said Nikita, " Thy Holy Will be done. It
is very hard. Well, I hope there will soon be two
deaths, and not one be taken and the other left. I
only hope it will soon all be over. . . ." And again
he hid his arms, closed his eyes, and surrendered him-
self to his fate, fully persuaded that he was now really
and truly about to die.
By dinner-time next day the muzhiks had already
dug out Vasily Andreich and Nikita with their spades.
They were lying about thirty fathoms from the road,
and half a mile from the village.
The snow had risen higher than the sledge, but
the shafts and the piece of cloth tied to them were
still visible. Brownie, up to his stomach in the snow,
with the sacking and harness still dangling from his
back, was standing there all white, pressing his dead
head against his stone-hard, stone-cold neck ; his
nostrils were covered with icicles, his eyes were frost-
bitten, and were frozen all round with what looked
like congealed tears. He had gone so thin in a
single night that nothing remained of him but hide
and bones. Vasily Andreich was as hard and stiff
as a cured and salted porpoise, "jrlis prominent
vulture-like eyes were frozen hard, his mouth beneath
his well-clipped moustaches was full of snow. Nikita
was still alive, though all frost-bitten. When they
awoke Nikita he was persuaded that now indeed he
was dead, and the things they were doing to him
were going on not in this but in the other world. But
when he heard the cries of the muzhiks digging him
out, and saw them dragging from off him the stone-
Master and Man
cold Vasily Andreich he was at first astonished that
even in that other world the muzhiks should make
such a racket. When, then, he was at last made to
understand that he was still in this world, he was
rather angry than pleased at it, especially when he
felt that the toes on both his feet were frost-bitten.
Nikita lay in the hospital for two months. Three
of his fingers were amputated, the rest were restored
to life, so that he could still work ; and for twelve
years longer he lived, at first among working people,
and afterwards, in his old age, as a watchman. Only
this very year he died at home, just as he had wished
to die, beneath the holy images, with a lighted wax
taper in his hands. Before his death he asked pardon
of his old woman, and forgave her her trespasses;
and he died sincerely glad that by his death he was
relieving his son and daughter-in-law of the burden
of finding him his daily bread, and that he was now
really passing from a life that had always been so
troublesome to him, to that other life which every
year and every hour had been growing more and
more intelligible to him and more tempting. Was
it better or worse with him, when he awoke again
after thus really dying at last ? Was he disillusioned,
or did he really find there all he that he anticipated ?
We shall all of us, my readers, know for ourselves
very, very soon.
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HOW MUCH LAND DOES A MAN REQUIRE P
AN elder sister from town visited a younger sister
in the country. The elder was married to a mer-
chant, the younger to a simple muzhik (i.e., peasant).
The sisters drank tea together, and talked. The
elder sister held her head high. She fell to boasting
of her town life ; how she lived and moved about in
ease and comfort ; how nicely she dressed her
children ; what delicious things she had to eat and
drink, and how pleasant it was to be always driving
about or going to the theatre. The younger sister
was vexed. She began Fo run down town life, and
exalt country life. " I would not change my condition
for yours," said she. " I'll grant you that our life
is dull, but it is without care. You live more finely,
no doubt ; but if trade brings you in much, it may
also ruin you in an instant The proverb says : ' Gain
has a big brother called Loss.' To-day you are
pretty rich, to-morrow you may be begging your bread
beneath my windows. Our rustic life is surer
we are not rich, perhaps, but we always have
enough,"
How much Land does a Man Require
" Enough, indeed ! " retorted the elder ; " yes, and
you share it with oxen and swine. You've neither
elegance nor comfort. Let your husband work as he
may, you'll live and die muckworms, and your children
after you."
" Yes, so 'tis," returned the younger ; " and we know
what we have to expect. But set against it that our
life is as solid as the rock beneath our feet. We
truckle to none. We fear nobody. But all you
townsfolk are beset with stumbling-blocks. To-day
'tis well, but to-morrow the unclean spirit pokes his
head in, and tempts your husband with cards, or wine,
or theft, and phew! your wealth is all dust and
ashes. You can't deny it."
Pakhom, the younger sister's husband, was lying
on the top of the stove, and listening to the women's
prattle. " Quite true," said he to himself, " perfectly
true. As our brother (i.e., himself) has been turning
over his mother earth from his childhood, nonsense
has had no time to get into his head. The mischief
of it is, there's so little land to be had. Let me only
have land enough, and I'll fear nobody : no, not even
the Devil himself."
The women finished their tea, gossiped a little
longer about their domestic affairs, cleared away the
tea-things, and lay down to sleep.
And the Devil, who had all the time been sitting
behind the stove, heard everything. He hugged him-
self with joy that the muzhik's wife should have set
her husband off bragging bragging that if he only
had land enough, the Devil himself should not hurt
him. " Softly, softly," thought he, " we'll be even with
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you yet. I'll give you land enough, and both you
and your land shall be mine."
II.
Hard by the muzhiks dwelt a small landed pro-
prietor a lady. She owned 120 acres of land.
Formerly she had lived on good terms with her
muzhiks, and been very easy with them ; but now she
took an overseer, a retired soldier, who began to make
life a burden to the muzhiks. However circumspect
Pakhom might be, his horses would run astray among
the oats, or his cow would break down a garden
fence, or his calf would go browsing among the
meadows and for each of these trespasses there was
a fine. Pakhom wept for rage, and scolded and beat
his domestics again and again. Many grievous things
did he suffer from that overseer during the year.
Right glad was he, when the proper time came, to
shut up his cattle in his yard. To feed them in
winter was a hard matter, but at least there was no
fear of fresh fines.
In the course of the winter the rumour spread that
the lady was about to sell her land, and that this
knight of the highway was about to purchase it The
muzhiks listened and trembled.
"Well," thought they, "if the land falls to this
steward, he will punish us with fines worse than ever.
Without the land we cannot live; we are in a hole
indeed."
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How much Land does a Man Require
So the muzhiks went in a body to the landlady, and
begged her not to sell the land to the steward, but let
them have it They promised to pay her more for it
than he would. The lady consented. Then the muzhiks
assembled together in their Mir (or communal council)
and debated about buying the land for the community.
They met together not once nor twice ; but somehow
the matter made no progress. The fact was, the un-
clean spirit had a hand in it, and prevented them
from agreeing. At last the muzhiks decided to buy
the land in separate lots, each one taking as much as
he could. To this also the landlady agreed. Pakhom
heard that his neighbour had bought twenty acres
from his landlady, who had taken half the money
down, and given him a whole year to pay off the rest.
Pakhom grew jealous.
" They are buying up all the land amongst them,"
thought he, " and I shall be left out in the cold." He
consulted his wife. " All the people are buying and
buying," said he ; " we too must manage to buy at
least ten acres. Life will be impossible otherwise,
for the overseer will ruin us with fines." So they
laid their heads together about it
They had laid by 100 roubles (10), and they sold
their horse, and half their bees, and sent out their
son to service, and so scraped together half of the
sum required. Pakhom tied up his money, chose
fifteen acres of land, with a little copse thereon (he
had had his eye upon it for a long time), and went to
drive a bargain with his landlady. He succeeded in
getting these fifteen acres on his own terms, shook
hands upon the bargain, and paid a deposit. Then
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Tales from Tolstoi
he went into town, completed the purchase, paid half
the money down, engaged to pay off the rest in two
years, and was left alone with his land. Next, he
borrowed some more money from his brother-in-law,
and bought seed. He sowed the land he had pur-
chased, and things went well with him. In a single
year he paid off both his landlady and his brother-
in-law. Pakhom was now a proprietor. It was his
own land that he ploughed and sowed ; it was upon
his own land that he mowed hay, cut firewood, and
grazed cattle. When Pakhom went out upon his land
which was his for ever and ever, to plough, or watcl
the sprouting crops, or look abroad upon the pastures,
his heart swelled within him. The very grass seemed
unlike what it used to be ; the flowers flowered quite
differently. Formerly, when he had walked over his
plot of land, it was just like any other but now it
was a different thing altogether.
III.
So Pakhom found life very pleasant. Everything
went well with him, except that the muzhiks tres-
passed upon his crops and pastures. He besought
them not to do so, but they took no heed. Sometimes
the herdsmen let the cattle loose in the meadows ;
sometimes the horses galloped among the wheat.
Pakhcm drove them off, and remonstrated, but for
a long time he did not go to law about it. At length
his anger got the better of him, and to the local court
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How much Land does a Man Require
fie went He knew that the muzhiks did it not from
malice, but from distress. " But," thought he, " I can-
not let this sort of thing go on for ever. They will
eat me out of house and home. I must give them
a lesson once for all."
So he summoned first one and then another, and
got them fined. The muzhiks, who were Pakhom's
neighbours, took this much to heart, and now began
to trespass wilfully. They broke into his wood at
night, and stripped the bark off the young lindens.
When Pakhom next strolled through the wood, he
saw what had been done, and turned pale the bark
lay scattered on the ground, and the naked trunks
stood gauntly forth. If they had even cut down a
few bushes, or left one linden whole well, even that
would not have been so bad ; but the miscreants had
barked the whole lot. Pakhom was very angry.
"Alas!" he sighed, "if only I knew who it was
I'd make him pay through the nose for it," and 'he
fell to thinking who it might be. " Simmy it must
be Simmy ! "
So he went to Simeon's farm to sift the matter
out ; but he only came to high words with Simeon,
who denied everything. But Pakhom was now more
convinced than ever that Simeon had done it. He
summoned him, and they went before the Court.
The Court examined and cross-examined, and finally
discharged the muzhik for want of evidence. Pakhom
was now beside himself for rage. He reviled the
magistrates themselves.
" You protect thieves and robbers," he cried. " If
you were honest folk yourselves you would not acquit
Tales from Tolstoi
robbers." Thus Pakhom quarrelled with his judges
as well as with his neighbours.
Pakhom had henceforth plenty of elbow-room at
home, for everyone avoided him ; but they made it
too hot for him in the Mir or communal council.
Just about this time a rumour spread that people
were seeking new lands. Pakhom said to himself,
" There's no need for me to quit my land ; but if any
of us do go, there will be all the more room for the
rest. I should then be able to get hold of their land,
and so round off my own, for I am straitened here."
One day Pakhom was sitting at home, when a
strange muzhik, who was passing by, looked in. They
let him stay the night, gave him to eat, and talked
together.
"Pray say, friend, whither God is leading you?"
The muzhik replied that he came from the south,
from the lower Volga, and that plenty of work was
to be had there. One word led to another, and so
the muzhik told them how the people were settling
down in those regions. His own people were there
also, and had inscribed their names in the land
registers, and had been allotted ten acres a head.
" The land there is so good," said he, " that when
barley grows up the stalks are so high that you
cannot see the horses, and so thick together that five
handfuls of grain make a small rick. One muzhik
went there quite poor, with nothing but his two hands
in fact, and got an allotment of fifty acres. Last year
he made 1,000 roubles (100) from a single wheat-
crop."
Pakhom's heart burned within him. Why should
86
How much Land does a Man Require
3
he grow poorer here the harder he worked, when
he might live so well elsewhere?
" I'll sell my farm and land, and settle down there
with the money, and farm on a big scale. It is a sin
to remain alone here in such straits. But I must first
of all go thither, and make sure that it is so."
So when the summer-time came he arose and went.
He sailed down the Volga by the steamer as far as
Samara, and after that he went forty miles on foot.
He got to the place. Everything was exactly as he
had been told. The muzhiks lived sumptuously
there. The village community welcomed every
immigrant who came thither, and allotted them ten
acres a head Moreover, everyone who had the
money could purchase besides as much land as he
liked, yes ! the very best possible land at three roubles
(6s.) an acre, any amount of it. Pakhom investigated
everything, returned home in the autumn, and sold
all he had He sold his land with all its appurte-
nances ; he sold his farm ; he sold his cattle ; he had
his name struck off the roll of the community ; waited
for the spring, and went with his family to the new
settlement.
IV.
Pakhom arrived at the new settlement with his
family, and had his name inscribed in the roll of the
largest village in the local Mir. He feasted the
village elders, and produced his papers, which were
all in order. They received Pakhom into the
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community, allotted him land for five souls, to wit fifty
acres in different fields, with right of pasturage on
the communal lands. Pakhom built him a house and
bought much cattle. His own lot of land was double
as much as before, and a fat land it was. He lived
ten times as well upon it as heretofore. Of arable
and pasturage land there was no lack, and he could
keep as many cattle as he chose.
So at first, while he was building his house and
buying his cattle, everything seemed good in his eyes ;
but when he got a little used to the place, he began
to feel straitened there also. Pakhom, like the rest
of them, wanted to sow Turkish wheat. But there
was very little of such wheat land in the communal
domains. They had to sow wheat in the grass land
or fallow. They sowed the land one year, and then
let it lie for two, till it was overgrown with grass again.
There was any amount of light soil, but in light soil
only rye will grow ; wheat requires richer soil. Very
many desired strong soil, but not everyone could get
it Thus quarrels arose. The richer muzhiks kept
a tight hold on what they had got, while the poorer
ones had to sell theirs to pay their taxes. The first
year Pakhom sowed his allotted land with wheat, and
the crop was good. Then he would hear of nothing
but sowing more wheat, but there was very little
wheat land allotted, and what there was was not
worth much. He longed for more. He went to a
merchant and hired land for a year. He sowed wheat
again, this time much more abundantly. Again the
crop was good, but the field was far from the
village. You had to go fifteen miles to get to it. As
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How much Lend does a Man Require
Pakhom went to and fro, he saw all around him mer-
chant muzhiks living on their own farms, and doing
very well. " That's something like a trade," thought
Pakhom. "If only I could buy a small estate out-
and-out and build a farm upon it, I should be as right
as a trivet."
And so Pakhom began to rack his brains as to how
he could buy an estate out-and-out.
Thus Pakhom lived for five years. He hired more
land and sowed more and more wheat. The years
rolled by prosperously ; the wheat crops were good ;
he began to amass money. Life would indeed have
been worth living but for the annoyance which
Pakhom felt in hiring land from people every year,
and losing time by going in search of it. Wherever
the land was a little better than usual, thither would
the muzhiks flock and divide it amongst them, and
if he did not make haste to buy, there would be no
more left to sow upon. And once he hired from the
merchants one half of the communal pasturages, and
ploughed it up. The muzhiks brought an action
against him, and the whole arrangement fell through.
If it had only been his own land none would have
interfered, and there would have been no opposition.
Now, while Pakhom was thinking where he could
buy land out-and-out, he fell in with a muzhik who
had 500 acres of land, but had ruined himself and
was selling it dirt cheap. . Pakhom began to bargain
with him. They higgled and haggled about the price,
but at last it was fixed at 1,000 roubles (;ioo), half
of which was to be paid down. They were just about
to finally settle, when a merchant on his way home
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Tales from Tolstoi
stopped at Pakhom's farm to fodder his horses. They
began talking and drinking tea together. The mer-
chant said he had come all the way from the land of
the Bashkirs. There, he sai4 he had bought 5,000
acres of land from the Bashkirs, and the whole lot
only came to 1,000 roubles. Pakhom began asking
questions. The merchant told him all about it.
" You have only to cajole their chiefs," said he. " I
gave them 100 roubles' worth of dressing-gowns and
carpets, and a chest of tea, and drank a little wine
with those who liked it, and I got land at 20 kopecks
(5d.) an acre, land hard by the river, and the steppe
covered with grass."
At this Pakhom began to redouble his questions.
" The land there," continued the merchant, " is so
vast, that if you took a whole year to go over it you
would not do it, and it all belong to the Bashkirs.
They are a simple people, just like sheep. Possibly
you may even get some of the land for nothing."
"Well," thought Pakhom, "why should I buy 500
acres of land with my 1,000 roubles, and saddle my-
self with debt besides, when there with the same
money I could do what I liked? "
V.
Pakhom asked the way thither, and as soon as the
merchant had gone, he too got ready for his journey.
He left his wife at home, but took a labourer with
him, and set out First they went to town ; bought
chests of tea, gifts, wine, everything that the merchant
had said. They went on and on, quite 500 miles
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How much Land does a Man Require
they went. On the seventh day they came to the land
of the nomadic Bashkirs. Everything there was
exactly as the merchant had said. The Bashkirs
dwelt in the steppe by a river's side, in kibitki, or felt-
covered wagons. They ploughed no fields, and ate
no bread ; but they drove cattle along the steppes,
and whole herds of horses. Behind the kibitki the
foals were fastened up. The mares were driven
thither twice a day and milked, and from the milk the
Bashkirs made koumiss. The old women beat the
milk to make cheese of it, but it was not the sort of
cheese the Russian muzhiks knew how to make. The
men drank tea and koumiss, ate sheep's flesh, and
played on the flute. All of them were sleek and light-
hearted, and feasted all the year round. It was a
swarthy race, knowing no Russian, but given largely
to hospitality. The instant they saw Pakhom, the
Bashkirs came out of their kibitki and surrounded the
stranger. An interpreter chanced to be there.
Pakhom told him he had come for land. The
Bashkirs were delighted, seized hold of Pakhom,
haled him away into the best of the kibitki, set him
down on a carpet, placed beneath him soft, downy
cushions, and regaled him with tea and koumiss.
Then they cut a sheep to pieces and gave him mutton.
Pakhom sent to his tarantass (a light car with long
shafts) for his presents, and distributed them among
the Bashkirs. At this the Bashkirs were till more
delighted. They chatted away amongst themselves
and bade the interpreter speak to Pakhom.
" They bid me tell you," said the interpreter, " that
they've taken a fancy to you, and 'tis their custom to
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Tales from Tolstoi
grant the desires of their guests, and give back gifts
for gifts. You have given us gifts, speak now ! what
thing of ours does your heart desire that we may give
it you?"
" What I like best of all," replied Pakhom, " is your
land. With us there is a scarcity of land, and what
there is of it is exhausted, but with you there is much
land and good. I have never seen the like of it before."
The interpreter interpreted. The Bashkirs talked
away among themselves. Pakhom did not under-
stand what they were saying, but he could see that
they were vastly amused at something, for they
laughed heartily. At last they grew quiet and looked
at Pakhom, and the interpreter spoke again.
" They bid me tell you," said he, " that for your
goodness to them they will be glad to give you as
much land as you desire. Only point out with your
hand what you like best, and it is yours ! "
Again they began talking among themselves, and
some sort of a dispute arose. Pakhom asked what
they were disputing about.
The interpreter replied, " Some of them say you
must ask the chief about the land, as without him
nothing can be done ; but the others say it can be
done very well without him."
VI.
So the Bashkirs went on wrangling, when suddenly
a man in a fox-skin cap came up. They were all
still in a moment, and rose to their feet.
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How much Land does a Man Require
" That is the chief," said the interpreter.
Pakhom immediately got out his best dressing-
gown and gave it to the chief, with five pounds of
tea besides. The chief took the presents and sat
down in the place of honour. And immediately the
Bashkirs began to tell him all about Pakhom. He
listened and listened, and now and then he smiled.
Then he began to speak in Russian.
" Be it so/' said he, " take what seems best to you.
There's enough land and to spare."
"What!" thought Pakhom, "I may take as much
as I like. But I must make sure of it somehow.
To-day they may say take it, 'tis yours, and to-
morrow they may take it back again. I thank you
for your good words," added he aloud. "You have
indeed very much land and I don't want much ; but
I should like to know exactly what is to be mine.
We must measure it fair and square somehow, and
I must be put into sure possession of it. Life and
death are in God's hands. You who give it to me
are good people, but your children may take it away
again."
The chief smiled. " May be," said he, " we will
make it sure then surer than sure."
Pakhom spoke again, " I have heard," said he, " from
a merchant who used to be here, that you gave him
much land and made an agreement with him, do the
same with me."
The chief understood perfectly.
" Quite so," said he, " we have a scribe here, and
we'll go to town and have the agreement signed and
sealed"
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Tales from Totsto!
" And the price ? " asked Pakhom.
"We have only one price here, 1,000 roubles a
day."
Pakhom did not comprehend.
" A day ! " thought he, " what sort of measure is
that ? How many acres is that ? " he asked aloud.
" That is more than we can tell," replied the chief.
" We sell by the day, that is to say, as much land as
you are able to compass in a day, so much is your
measure ; the price per day is 1,000 roubles."
Pakhom was amazed. " But look now," said he,
" a very great deal of land may be got over in a day."
The chief smiled. " Yes, and it will all be yours.
But there's one condition. If you don't come back
within the day to the point from whence you started,
you forfeit your money and get nothing."
" But how? " asked Pakhom again ; " do you mean
to say you'll measure me all I go over ? "
"We will stand at the place from whence you
start We, I say, will stand still there while you go
your rounds, and after you will come our young men
on horseback, planting poles wherever you tell them,
and ploughing a furrow from pole to pole. You are
free to make your own circuit, but you must come
back to the place from whence you started before
the setting of the sun. Whatsoever you compass
within that time, the same shall be yours."
Pakhom consented, and they agreed to set out early
next morning. ' They fell to talking again, they drank
some more koumiss together, they drank some more
tea, the night wore on. Then they made a bed for
Pakhom of soft cushions, and the Bashkirs left him.
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How much Land does a Man Require
They promised to assemble again at dawn next
morning, and go to the starting-point before sunrise.
VII.
Pakhom lay on his cushions, but he could not sleep.
He kept thinking of the land. " Here," said he, " I
am indeed in luck's way. I am about to drop into a
huge domain, for in a day I can make a circuit of
fifty miles easily, and the days are now at their longest.
Now, in fifty miles there are at least 10,000 acres.
I shall be independent of all the world. I will get
two yoke of oxen and two labourers. I will plough
up the parts I like best, and will graze cattle on the
remainder."
Pakhom did not sleep a wink the whole night.
It was only just before dawn that he dozed off, and
then he dreamed a dream. He dreamed he lay in
that very kibitka and heard someone laughing outside.
A strong desire seized him to see who was laughing
so much, and he went out of the kibitka. And he
dreamed that the selfsame Bashkir chief was sitting
by the kibitka, holding his sides with both hands,
and shrieking with laughter at something or other.
And he went up and asked him, " What are you
laughing at so much ? " And then he saw that it was
not the Bashkir chief, but the merchant of a few days
ago who had sojourned with him and told him of
the land. And he asked the merchant, " Why, how
long have you been here ? " And then he saw that
it was not the merchant, but the muzhik who had
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Tales from Tolstoi
come up from the Volga and told him of the new
settlement. And he looked again, and saw that it
was not the muzhik after all, but the devil in person,
with horns and hoofs, who sat laughing, and looking
at something. And Pakhom thought, " What is he
looking at, and why is he laughing so ? " And he
dreamed that he crept up sideways, and peeped, and
saw a man lying there in nothing but a shirt and
trousers. His feet were bare, and he lay face up-
wards, as pale as a towel. And as Pakhom gazed
more attentively to see who the man might be, 'he
saw that it was himself. Pakhom shrieked aloud and
woke. He woke, and his first thought was, what
nonsense people do dream! He looked around him,
and saw that the sky was growing grey it was begin-
ning to dawn. " I must wake up the people," thought
he, " the time has come."
VIII.
Pakhom arose, awoke his labourer in the tarantass,
bade him put the horses to, and went to arouse the
Bashkirs.
" It is time," said he, " to go to the steppe and take
our measurements."
The Bashkirs arose, assembled, and presently the
chief joined them. The Bashkirs again began drink-
ing koumiss, and wanted to make Pakhom drink tea,
but he would not wait.
" If we are going, let us go," said he.
So the Bashkirs set out, some on horseback and
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How much Land does a Man Require
some in tarantasses. But Pakhom with his labourer
went in his own tarantass. By the time they reached
the steppe the red dawn was already visible. They
came to a little mound, dismounted, and the Bashkirs
went up to the top of it and stood there in a group.
The chief came to Pakhom, and pointed with his hand.
" Behold ! " said he, " as far as your eyes can reach,
all is ours. Choose what you will ! "
Pakhom's eyes flashed. The whole of the land was
covered with plumy grass. It was as level as the palm
of your hand, and as black as poppy-seed, and the
ravines were marked by bush patches of divers colours
breast high. The chief doffed his fox-skin cap, and
set it on the top of the mound.
" That," said he, " will be the goal, put your money
in it. Your labourer will stand here. This is your
starting-point hither also will you return. What-
soever you compass shall be yours.
Pakhom took out his money, placed it in the cap,
doffed his kaftan (i.e., long cloak) his doublet was
sufficient clothing girded up his loins, tightened his
belt, thrust a bit of bread into his bosom, fastened
a gourd full of water to his waist, drew up the straps
of his boots, and prepared to depart. He racked his
brains as to which direction he should take first
everywhere the land was good.
" 'Tis all one," thought he, " I'll go towards the
setting of the sun." He stood with his face towards
the dawn, stamping impatiently for the sun to appear
above the horizon. Then he thought, "What's the
good of losing so much time? I'll wait no longer,
'twill be easier going in the cool of the morning.
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Tales from Tolstoi
The mounted Bashkirs now likewise appeared on
the top of the mound, and stood behind Pakhom.
No sooner had the sun burst above the horizon than
Pakhom turned round and went down into the steppe.
The horsemen followed after.
Pakhom set out at a leisurely, even pace. He went
a mile and then bade them plant a pole. He went on
further. His limbs began to lose their first stiffness.
He quickened his pace. He went still further and bade
them plant another pole. Pakhom glanced back at
the sun, the top of the mound was well in sight, with
the group standing on it. Pakhom calculated that he
had gone five miles. And now he began to sweat.
He cast off his doublet and girded himself still tighter.
He went on further and covered another five miles.
It began to be hot. Again he looked back at the sun.
It was already breakfast-time.
" I have now done one wagon-stage," thought he,
" four wagon-stages make a good day's journey. It
is still too early to turn back, but I may at least loosen
my boots." He sat down, made his boots easier, and
went on further. It was now much easier going. He
thought, " I'll go another five miles and then I'll turn
to the left. This spot is good."
But the further he went the better the land got.
He continued to go straight on. He looked round at
last. The mound was scarcely visible, and the people
upon it looked like black ants.
" Well," thought Pakhom, " I've taken enough in
this direction. I must turn off now." He had grown
very hot and felt a strong desire to drink. So he
raised his gourd to his mouth and drank without
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How much Land does a Man Require
stopping, bade them plant another pole in the ground,
and turned off sharply to the left. He went on and
on. The grass was very stiff and high. The heat
became oppressive. Pakhom stood still. He looked
at the sun. It was dinner-time. " Well," thought
Pakhom, " I must rest I suppose." So he stopped
and ate some bread, but would not sit down. " For,"
thought he, " if you begin to sit down you will want
to lie down, and if you lie down you will go to sleep."
So he stood still for a little while to get his breath,
and then on he went again. At first it was easy going.
His food had fortified him. But soon it grew very
hot again, and the sun beat full upon him. Pakhom
began to grow mortally weary. " Come, come ! "
thought he, " endure for an hour and live like a king
ever afterwards ! "
So on he went and traversed ten miles in this direc-
tion likewise. He was about to turn to the left again,
when his eye fell upon a very good little spot a
fresh, well-watered ravine. He had not the heart to
leave it out.
" How well flax will grow there," thought he. So
he went straight on again and compassed the ravine,
had another pole planted and turned the second
corner. Pakhom looked towards the mound. The
people on it were just visible. It was exactly fifteen
miles off. " Well," thought he, " I have made the
first two sides of my domain very long, this one must
be much shorter." He now traversed the third side,
taking longer strides than before. He looked again
at the sun. It had already begun to decline. On
the third side he had only gone two miles in all, and
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Tales from Tolstoi
still he was quite fifteen miles from the goal. " Well,"
thought he, " although my property will be somewhat
lop-sided, I must nevertheless keep straight on now.
Any more would be more than I could manage. I've
got enough land at last." So Pakhom turned his
steps straight towards the mound.
IX.
Pakhom went straight towards the mound, and
very heavy going he found it. On he went, stumbling
again and again. His legs ached and swelled, and
seemed on the point of giving way beneath him alto-
gether. He would have liked to have rested, but that
was now out of the question, he would never have
reached the goal before sunset. The sun did not
wait for him. It was not sinking, it was -falling
falling as if someone was jerking it down. " Alas ! "
thought Pakhom, " have I made a mistake ? Have I
chosen too much ? Suppose I don't arrive in time !
Alas ! how far off it is ! I am wearied to death !
What if all my labour and trouble go for nothing!
I must put on a spurt."
Pakhom pulled himself together and broke into a
trot. His legs began to bleed, but he ran for all that.
He threw away his vest, his shoes, his water-gourd ;
he threw away his hat. " Alas ! " thought Pakhom,
" I have coveted too much, and I shall lose everything
if I do not reach the goal in time," and a terrible fear
seized upon his soul. Pakhom ran and ran. His
shirt and his trousers, drenched with sweat, clave
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How much Land does a Man Require
to his body ; his mouth was parched and dry. His
breast seemed to be a blacksmith's bellows ; his heart
beat like a hammer ; his feet bent beneath him and
no longer seemed his own. PaMiom thought no more
of his land, what he thought was this : " Suppose I
were to die of fatigue ! " He feared to die, but he
could not find it in his heart to stop. " After running
such a distance, to stop now ! " he thought. " No !
they would call me a fool ! What was that ? " He
listened. The Bashkirs were shouting and bellowing
to him to come on, and their shouts kindled his
courage once more. Pakhom ran with all the strength
he still had left in him, and just then the sun dipped
on the horizon. But he was now quite close to the
goal. Pakhom saw the people on the mound waving
their hands to him, and it goaded him on. And now
he saw the fox-skin cap on the ground, and the money
in it, and he saw the chief sitting on the ground and
holding his sides. And Pakhom recollected his
dream. " The land is plenteous," thought he, " most
plenteous, but will God let me live upon it? Alas!
I have lost my very self," thought he. And still he
kept on running. He looked back upon the sun. It
was large and red, and quite close to the ground ;
it was on the point of disappearing. Pakhom reached
the foot of the mound and the sun went down.
Pakhom groaned. He already thought that he had
lost everything ; but then it suddenly occurred to
him that 'twas only he, below there, who could not see
the sun, from the top of the mound it must still be
visible. Pakhom dashed towards the mound. He
scaled it at a gallop, and saw the fox-skin cap yes!
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Tales from Tolstoi
there it lay! Then he stumbled and fell, and as he
fell he stretched out his hands towards the cap.
" Well done, my son ! " roared the chief of the
Bashkirs, " you have indeed won much land ! "
Pakhom's labourer ran towards him, and would
have lifted him up, but he saw that blood was flowing
from his mouth ; there he lay dead ! The labourer
groaned, but the chief sat squatting on the ground,
holding his sides and roaring with laughter.
And now the Bashkir chief arose, took the money
from the ground, and shouted to the labourer, " Come !
Dig!"
Then all the Bashkirs rose likewise and went away.
The labourer remained alone with the corpse. He
dug Pakhom a grave, and there he buried him. The
grave was three Russian ells in length, Pakhom's
exact measurement from head to foot.
102
HOW THE LITTLE DEMON EARNED HIS
STOLEN CRUST OF BREAD.
A POOR muzhik went out to plough before breakfast,
and took with him from his hut a crust of bread. He
turned over his plough and put to his horses, but
before starting he placed his crust beneath a bush
and covered it with his kaftan. When the horse grew
tired and the muzhik began to be hungry, he stopped
ploughing, unharnessed his nag to let it graze, and
went back to the kaftan to have his breakfast. The
muzhik raised the kaftan there was no crust to be
seen. The muzhik searched and searched, turned the
kaftan over and over and shook it still there was
no crust. The muzhik was amazed. It was passing
strange. No one was to be seen, yet someone had
taken the crust.
Now it was a little demon, who, while the muzhik
was ploughing, had niched the crust, and was now
squatting behind the bush waiting to hear the muzhik
curse the devil. The muzhik fretted a little, but that
was all
" Come, come ! " said he, " I shan't die of hunger.
No doubt he who took the crust was sorely in need
of it Lei feim ea.t it, and may it be to his health."
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Tales from Tolstoi
And the muzhik went to the trough, drank some
water, rested awhile, caugHt his horse, re-harnessed
him, and went on ploughing. The little demon was
grieved that he had not led the muzhik into sin, and
went back to the chief of the devils, and told him
how he -had robbed the muzhik of his crust, and how
the muzhik, instead of cursing and swearing, had
said, " May it be to his health ! "
The chief of the devils was very wroth.
" If the muzhik gets the better of you in this
business," said he, "you won't be worth your salt.
'Twill be a pretty thing, indeed, if mere muzhiks, and
old village grannies too, for the matter of that, take
to such high-flying ways! Why, then, there will be
nothing more for us to live for! We cannot let the
matter rest where it is. Be off, and earn the muzhik's
crust. If you don't get the upper hand of this muzhik
in three years, I'll douch you in holy water."
Terrified at the holy water, the little demon fell to
thinking how he should earn his crust He thought
and thought, and thought again. At last he assumed
the form cf a good Christian man, and took service
with the pcor muzhik as a labourer. And he taught
the muzhik in the dry season to sow grain in the
marshes. The sun scorched up the crops of all the
other muzhiks, but the corn of the poor muzhik grew
up thick, high, full-eared, and abundant. For a whole
year the poor muzhik had enough and to spare. In
the spring the labourer taught the muzhik to sow
corn on the hills. That year was a very wet one.
The crops of the other muzhiks were washed away or
rotted before the harvest ; but the poor muzhik reaped
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How the Little Demon earned his Stolen Crust
a copious crop on the hills, so that after supplying all
his wants he had more corn left than he knew what
to do with.
And then the labourer taught the muzhik to waste
grain, by letting it ferment and making spirit of it.
The muzhik distilled spirit, drank of it himself, and
gave to others to drink also. And the little demon
returned to the chief of the devils and boasted that
he had earned his crust.
The chief of the devils came to satisfy himself that
it was so. He came to the muzhik's house, and saw
how he had invited all the rich muzhiks, and was
regaling them with spirits. His wife was carrying
round the liquor, and as she went from one to the
other she tripped against a stool, and spilt a whole
glassful. The muzhik was very angry, and began to
swear at his wife.
The little demon nudged the chief of the devils
with his elbow : " Do you think he would not com-
plain of the loss of his crust now ? "
After cursing his wife to his heart's content, the
host took round the drink himself. And there came
in from the fields a poor, uninvited muzhik, who
greeted the company and sat down. He saw all the
people drinking spirit, and, in his weariness, wished
for a drop of it himself. He sat and sat, and sucked
his lips, but the host gave him never a drop. On the
contrary, the rich muzhik muttered between his teeth :
" A likely tale that we are to waste our liquor on the
devil knows who ! "
At this the chief of the devils was very pleased,
but the little demon bragged all the more.
Tales from Tolstoi
" Wait a bit/' said he, " there's more to come yet ! "
The rich muzhiks sat and drank their fill, and their
host drank with them. They began to praise and
flatter one another, and to speak false, oily words.
The chief of the devils listened and listened. With
this, too, he was very well satisfied.
" If this drink makes them all so foxy that they
will try to swindle each other, the whole lot of them
will very soon fall into our clutches ! "
" Wait a bit," chuckled the little demon ; " there's
more to come yet. Only let them have another glass.
At present they are foxes trying to get the better of
one another ; but in a few moments they will be
wolves trying to do one another a mischief."
The muzhiks had another glass all round, and their
language became coarse and snappish. Their words
were no longer oily but rasping. At last they fell
foul of each other, wrestled, fought, and knocked each
other about. They told even their host to go to the
devil, and knocked him about also.
This, too, the chief of the devils highly approved
of. " Good ! very good, indeed ! " said he.
" Wait a bit," replied the little demon, " there's more
to come yet! Stop till they've had a third glass!
At present they are like ravening wolves, but let them
have a third glass and you'll see them wallow about
like swine ! "
The muzhiks had a third glass, and became alto-
gether maudlin. They gabbled and howled, and all
talked together at the same time without knowing
what they talked about. Then they set off home,
some singly, others in twos or threes, and so they all
106
How the Little Demon earned his Stolen Crust
rolled helplessly about the lanes. The host went
before to show his guests out, fell upon his nose into
a puddle, and muddied himself from head to foot.
There he lay like a pig, and squeaked.
The chief of the devils was more pleased with this
than with anything else.
" Well done ! " he cried ; " this is indeed a good
drink that you've concocted. You have well earned
your crust. Tell me," said he, "how did you make
this drink? I suppose you first of all mixed some
fox's blood to make the muzhiks fox-like ; after that
some wolf's blood to make them wolf-like ; and, last
of all, it is quite plain that you added swine's blood
to make them like veritable swine."
" No," replied the little demon, " it was not so. All
I did was to give the muzhik more corn than he
knew what to do with. Bestial blood is present in
every man, but so long as the man has barely enough
bread to nourish him, it has no outlet. When he's
like that, he does not even grieve over his last crust.
But let him only have food over and above his needs,
and he will at once begin thinking of enjoying him-
self. Now I taught him an enjoyment drunken-
ness. And whenever he turns the gift of God into
spirits for his enjoyment, the fox-blood, the wolf-
blood, and the swine-blood within him rise at once
to the surface. Henceforth a beast will he become
every time he touches spirit."
And the chief of the devils commended the little
demon, granted him his crust of bread, and raised
him high in his service.
107
WHERE LOVE IS THERE GOD IS ALSO.
IN a certain city dwelt Martin Avdyeeich, the cobbler.
He lived in a cellar, a wretched little hole with a
single window. The window looked up towards the
street, and through it Martin could just see the
passers-by. It is true that he could see little more
than their boots, but Martin Avdyeeich could read a
man's character by his boots, so he needed no more.
Martin Avdyeeich had lived long in that one place,
and had many acquaintances. Few indeed were the
boots in that neighbourhood which had not passed
through his hands at some time or other. On some
he would fasten new soles, to others he would give
side-pieces, others again he would stitch all round,
and even give them new uppers if need be. And
often he saw his own handiwork through the window.
There was always lots of work for him, for
Avdyeeich's hand was cunning and his leather good ;
nor did he overcharge, and always kept his word.
He always engaged to do a job by a fixed time if he
could ; but if he could not he said so at once, and
deceived no man. So everyone knew Avdyeeich, and
he had no lack of work. Avdyeeich had always been
a pretty good man, but as he grew old he began to
408
Where Love is there God is also
think anore about his soul, and draw nearer to his
God. While Martin was still a journeyman his wife
had died ; but his wife had left him a little boy
three years old. Their other children had not lived.
All the eldest had died early. Martin wished at first
to send his little child into the country to his sister,
but afterwards he thought better of it. " My Kapi-
toshka," thought he, " will feel miserable in a strange
household. He shall stay here with me." And so
Avdyeeich left his master, and took to living in
lodgings alone with his little son. But God did not
give Avdyeeich happiness in his children. No sooner
had the little one begun to grow up and be a help
and a joy to his father's heart, than a sickness fell
upon Kapitoshka, the little one took to his bed, lay
there in a raging fever for a week, and then died.
Martin buried his son in despair so desperate was
he that he began to murmur against God. Such
disgust of life overcame him that he more than once
begged God that he might die ; and he reproached
God for taking not him, an old man, but his darling,
his only son instead. And after that Avdyeeich left
off going to church.
And lo! one day, there came to Avdyeeich from
the Troitsa Monastery, an aged peasant-pilgrim
it was already the eighth year of his pilgrimage.
Avdyeeich fell a-talking with him and began to com-
plain of his great sorrow. " As for living any longer,
thou man of God," said he, " I desire it not. Would
only that I might die! That is my sole prayer to
God I am now a man who has no hope."
And the old man said to him : " Thy speech, Martin,
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Tales from Tolstoi
is not .good. How shall we judge the doings of God ?
God's judgments are not our thoughts. God willed
that thy son shouldst die, but that thou shouldst live.
Therefore 'twas the best thing both for him and for
thee. It is because thou wouldst fain have lived for
thy own delight that thou dost now despair."
" But what then is a man to live for ? " asked
Avdyeeich.
And the old man answered : " For God, Martin !
He gave thee life, and for Him therefore must thou
live. When thou dost begin to live for Him, thou
wilt grieve about nothing more, and all things will
come easy to thee."
Martin was silent for a moment, and then he said :
" And how must one live for God? "
" Christ hath shown us the way. Thou knowest
thy letters. Buy the Gospels and read, there thou wilt
find out how to live for God. There everything is
explained."
These words made the heart of Avdyeeich burn
within him, and he went the same day and bought
for himself a new Testament printed in very large
type, and began to read
Avydeeich set out with the determination to read
it only on holidays ; but .as he read, it did his heart
so much good that he took to reading it every day.
And the second time he read until all the kerosene in
the lamp had burnt itself out, and for all that he could
not tear himself away from the book. And so it was
every evening. And the more he read, the more
clearly he understood what God wanted of him, and
how it behoved him to live for God ; and his heart grew
no
Where Love is there God is also
lighter and lighter continually. Formerly, whenever
he lay down to sleep he would only sigh and groan,
and think of nothing but Kapitosh'ka, but now he
would only say to himself : " Glory to Thee ! Glory
to Thee, O Lord ! Thy will be done ! "
Henceforth the whole life of Avdyeeich was
changed. Formerly, whenever he had a holiday, he
would go to the tavern to drink tea, nor would he say
no to a drop of brandy now and again. He would
tipple with his comrades, and though not actually
drunk, would, for all that, leave the inn a bit merry,
babbling nonsense and talking loudly and censori-
ously. He had done with all that now. His life
became quiet and joyful. With the morning light
he sat down to his work, worked out his time, then
took down his lamp from the hook, placed it on the
table, took down his book from the shelf, bent over
it, and sat 'him down to read. And the more he read
the more he understood, and his heart grew brighter
and happier.
It happened once that Martin was up reading till
very late. He was reading St. Luke's Gospel He
was reading the sixth chapter, and as he read he
came to the words : " And to him that smiteth thee
on the one cheek offer also the other." This
passage he read several times, and presently he came
to that place where the Lord says : " And why call
ye me Lord, Lord, and do not the things which I
say? Whosoever cometh to Me, and heareth My
sayings, and doeth them, I will show you to whom
he is like. He is like a man which built an house,
and dug deep, and laid the foundations on a rock.
Tales from Tolstoi
And when the flood arose, the storm beat vehemently
upon that house, and could not shake it, for it was
founded upon a rock. But he that heareth, and doeth
not, is like a man that without a foundation built an
house upon the earth, against which the stream did
beat vehemently, and immediately it fell, and the ruin
of that house was great."
Avdyeeich read these words through and through,
and his heart was glad. He took off his glasses, laid
them on the book, rested his elbow on the table, and
fell a-thinking. And he began to measure his own
life by these words. And he thought to himself, " Is
my house built on the rock or on the sand? How
good to be as on a rock ! How easy it all seems to
thee sitting alone here. It seems as if thou wert
doing God's will to the full, and so thou takest no
heed and fallest away again. And yet thou wouldst
go on striving, for so it is good for thee. O Lord,
help me ! " Thus thought he, and would have laid
him down, but it was a grief to tear himself away
from the book. And so he began reading the seventh
chapter. He read all about the Centurion, he read all
about the Widow's Son, he read all about the answer
to the disciples of St. John ; and so he came to that
place where the rich Pharisee invites our Lord to be
his guest. And he read all about how the woman
who was a sinner anointed His feet and washed them
with her tears, and how He justified her. And so
he came at last to the forty-fourth verse, and there
he read these words, " And He turned to the woman
and said to Simon, Seest thou this woman ? I entered
into thine house, thou gavest Me no water for My
Where Love is there God is also
feet : but she has washed My feet with tears and
wiped them with the hairs of her head. Thou gavest
Me no kiss, but this woman since the time I came
in, hath not ceased to kiss My feet Mine head with
oil thou didst not anoint." And again Avdyeeich
took off his glasses, and laid them on the book, and
fell a-thinking.
" So it is quite plain that I too have something of
the Pharisee about me. Am I not always thinking
of myself? Am I not always thinking of drinking
tea, and keeping myself as warm and cosy as possible,
without thinking at all about the guest? Simon
thought about himself, but did not give the slightest
thought to his guest. But who was the guest? The
Lord Himself. And suppose He were to come to me,
should I treat Him as the Pharisee did? "
And Avdyeeich leaned both his elbows on the
table and, without perceiving it, fell a-dozing.
" Martin ! " it was as though the voice of someone
close to his ear.
Martin started up from his nap. " Who's there ? "
He turned round, he gazed at the door, but there
was no one. Again he dozed off. Suddenly he heard
quite plainly,
" Martin, Martin, I say ! Look to-morrow into the
street. I am coming."
Martin awoke, rose from his chair, and began to
rub his eyes. And he did not know himself whether
he had heard these words asleep or awake. He
turned down the lamp and laid him down to rest
At dawn next day, Avdyeeich arose, prayed to
God, lit his stove, got ready his gruel and cabbage
113
L
Tales from Tolstoi
soup, filled his samovar, put on his apron, and sat him
down by his window to work. There Avdyeeich
sits and works, and thinks of nothing but the things
of yesternight. His thoughts were divided. He
thought at one time that he must have gone off
dozing, and then again he thought he really must have
heard that voice. It might have been so, thought he.
Martin sits at the window and looks as much at his
window as at his work, and whenever a strange pair
of boots passes by, he bends forward and looks out
of the window, so as to see the face as well as the
feet of the passers-by. The house porter passed by
in new felt boots, the water-carrier passed by, and
after that there passed close to the window an old
soldier, one of Nicholas' veterans, in tattered old boots,
with a shovel in his hands. Avdyeeich knew him
by his boots. The old fellow was called Stepanuich,
and lived with the neighbouring shopkeeper, who
harboured him of his charity. His duty was to help
the porter. < Stepanuich stopped before Avdyeeich's
window to sweep away the snow. Avdyeeich cast a
glance at him, and then went on working as before.
" I'm not growing sager as I grow older," thought
Avdyeeich, with some self-contempt, " I make up my
mind that Christ is coming to me, and lo! 'tis only
Stepanuich clearing away the snow. Thou simpleton,
thou ! thou art wool-gathering ! " Then Avdyeeich
made ten more stitches, and then he stretched his
head once more towards the window. He looked
through the window again, and there he saw that
Stepanuich had placed the shovel against the wall,
am . was warminj himself and taking breath a bit.
114
Where Love is there God is also
" The old man is very much broken," thought
Avdyeeich to himself. " It is quite plain that he has
scarcely strength enough to scrape away the snow.
Suppose I make him drink a little tea ! The samovar
too is just on the boil." Avdyeeich put down his awl,
got up, placed the samovar on the table, put some tea
in it, and tapped on the window with his fingers.
Stepanuich turned round and came to the window.
Avdyeeich beckoned to him, and then went and
opened the door.
" Come in and warm yourself a bit," cried he.
11 You're a bit chilled, eh ? "
" Christ requite you ! Yes, and all my bones ache
too," said Stepanuich. Stepanuich came in, shook off
the snow, and began to wipe his feet so as not to
soil the floor, but he tottered sadly.
" Don't trouble about wiping your feet. I'll rub
it off myself. It's all in the day's work. Come in and
sit down," said Avdyeeich. " Here, take a cup of tea."
And Avdyeeich filled two cups, and gave one to
his guest, and he poured his own tea out into the
saucer and began to blow it.
Stepanuich drank his cup, turned it upside down,
put a gnawed crust on the top of it, and said, "Thank
you." But it was quite plain that he wanted to be
asked to have some more.
" Have a drop more. Do ! " said Avdyeeich, and
poured out fresh cups for his guest and himself, and
as Avdyeeich drank his cup, he could not help glanc-
ing at the window from time to time.
" Dost thou expect anyone ? " asked his guest.
'Do I expect anyone? Well, honestly, I hardly
"5
Tales from Tolstoi
know. I am expecting and I am not expecting, and
there's a word which has burnt itself right into my
heart. Whether it was a vision or no, I know not.
Look now, my brother ! I was reading yesterday
about our little Father* Christ, how He suffered, how
He came on earth. Hast thou heard of Him, eh?"
" I have heard, I have heard," replied Stepanuich,
" but we poor ignorant ones know not our letters."
" Anyhow, I was reading about this very thing
how He came down upon earth. I was reading how
He went to the Pharisee, and how the Pharisee did
not meet Him half-way. That was what I was read-
ing about yesternight, little brother mine. I read
that very thing, and bethought me how the Honour-
able did not receive our little Father Christ honour-
ably. But suppose, I thought, if He came to one
like me would I receive Him ? Simon at any rate
did not receive Him at all. Thus, I thought, and so
thinking fell asleep. I fell asleep, I say, little brother
mine, and I heard my name called. I started up.
A voice was whispering at my very ear. ' Look out
to-morrow ! ' it said, ' I am coming.' And so it befell
twice. Now look ! wouldst thou believe it ? the idea
stuck to me I scold myself for my folly, and yet I
look for Him, our little Father Christ ! "
Stepanuich shook his head and said nothing, but
he drank his cup dry and put it aside. Then
Avdyeeich took up the cup and filled it again.
" Drink some more. 'Twill do thee good. Now
* Rus. Batushka. No translation can adequately express the meaning
of this caressing diminutive. The German Papachen is the nearest
approach to it. All the Slavonic languages have its equivalent.
116
Where Love is there God is also
it seems to me that when our little Father went about
on earth, He despised no one, but sought unto the
simple folk most of all. He was always among the
simple folk. Those disciples of His too, He chose
most of them from amongst our brother-labourers,
sinners like unto us. He that exalteth himself, He
says, shall be abased, and he that abaseth himself
shall be exalted. Ye, says He, call me Lord, and I,
says He, wash your feet. He who would be the first
among you, He says, let him become the servant of
all. And therefore it is that He says, Blessed are
the lowly, the peacemakers, the humble, and the long-
suffering."
Stepanuich forgot his tea. He was an old man,
soft-hearted, and tearful. He sat and listened, and
the tears rolled down his cheeks.
" Come, drink a little more," said Avdyeeich. But
Stepanuich crossed himself, expressed his thanks,
pushed away his cup, and got up.
" I thank thee, Martin Avdyeeich," said he, " I have
fared well at thy hands, and thou hast refreshed me
both in body and soul."
" Thou wilt show me a kindness by coming again.
I am so glad to have a guest," said Avdyeeich.
Stepanuich departed, and Martin poured out the last
drop of tea, drank it, washed up, and again sat down
by the window to work he had some back-stitching
to do. He stitched and stitched, and now and then
cast glances at the window he was looking for
Christ, and could think of nothing but Him and His
works. And the divers sayings of Christ were in his
head all the time.
"7
Tales from Tolstoi
Two soldiers passed by, one in regimental boots,
the other in boots of his own making ; after that, the
owner of the next house passed by in nicely brushed
goloshes. A baker with a basket also passed by. All
these passed by in turn, and then there came along-
side the window a woman in worsted stockings and
rustic shoes, and as she was passing by she stopped
short in front of the partition wall. Avdyeeich looked
up at her from his window, and he saw that the
woman was a stranger and poorly clad, and that she
had a little child with her. She was leaning up
against the wall with her back to the wind, and tried
to wrap the child up, but she had nothing to wrap
it up with. The woman wore summer clothes, and
thin enough they were. And from out of his corner
Avdyeeich heard the child crying and the woman
trying to comfort it, but she could not. Then
Avdyeeich got up, went out of the door and on to
the steps, and cried, "My good woman! my good
woman !"
The woman heard him and turned round.
"Why dost thou stand out in the cold there with
the child? Come inside! In the warm room thou
wilt be better able to tend him. This way ! "
The woman was amazed. What she saw was an
old fellow in an apron and with glasses on his nose
calling to her. She came towards him.
They went down the steps together they went into
the room. The old man led the woman to the bed.
" There," said he, " sit down, gossip, nearer to the
stove, and warm and feed thy little one. . . ."
He went to the table, got some bread and a dish,
118
Where Love is there God is also
opened the oven door, put some cabbage soup into
the dish, took out a pot of gruel, but it was not quite
ready, so he put some cabbage soup only into the
dish, and placed it on the table. Then he fetched
bread, took down the cloth from the hook, and spread
it on the table.
" Sit down and have something to eat, gossip,"
said he, " and I will sit down a little with the
youngster. I have had children of my own, and know
how to manage them."
The woman crossed herself, sat down at the table,
and began to eat, and Avdyeeich sat down on the
bed with the child Avdyeeich smacked his lips at
him again and again, but his lack of teeth made it a
clumsy joke at best And all the time the child
never left off shrieking. Then Avdyeeich hit upon
the idea of shaking his finger at him, so he snapped
his fingers up and down, backwards and forwards,
right in front of the child's mouth. He did not put
his finger into its mouth, because his finger was black
and sticky with cobbler's wax. And the child stared
at the finger and was silent, and presently it began
to laugh. And Avdyeeich was delighted. But the
woman went on eating, and told him who she was
and whence she came.
" I am a soldier's wife," she said : " my eight months'
husband they drove right away from me, and nothing
has been heard of him since. I took a cook's place
till I became a mother. They could not keep me
and the child. It is now three months since I have
been drifting about without any fixed resting-place.
1 have eaten away my all. I wanted to be a wet-
up
Tales from Tolstoi
nurse, but people wouldn't have me : ' Thou art too
thin,' they said. I have just been to the merchant's
wife where our grandmother lives, and there they
promised to take me in. I thought it was all right,
but she told me to come again in a week. But she
lives a long way off. I am chilled to death, and he
is quite tired out. But God be praised ! our landlady
has compassion on us, and gives us shelter for Christ's
sake. But for that I don't know how we could live
through it all."
Avdyeeich sighed, and said, " And have you no
warm clothes ? "
" Ah, kind friend ! this is indeed warm-clothes time,
but yesterday I pawned away my last shawl for two
grivenki?*
The woman went to the bed and took up the child,
but Avdyeeich stood up, went to the wall cupboard,
rummaged about a bit, and then brought back with
him an old jacket.
" Look ! " said he, " 'tis a shabby thing, 'tis true, but
it will do to wrap up in."
The woman looked at the old jacket, then she
gazed at the old man, and, taking the jacket, fell
a-weeping. Avdyeeich also turned away, crept under
the bed, drew out a trunk and seemed to be very busy
about it, whereupon he again sat down opposite the
woman.
Then the woman said : " Christ requite thee, dear
little father! It is plain that it was He Who sent
me by thy window. When I first came out it was
warm, and now it has turned very cold. And He it
* A grivenka is the tenth part of a rouble about ajd.
J2Q
Where Love is there God is also
was, little father, Who made thee look out of the
window and have compassion en wretched me."
Avdyeeich smiled slightly, and said : " Yes, He
must have done it, for I looked not out of the window
in vain, dear gossip ! "
And Avdyeeich told his dream to the soldier's wife
also, and how he had heard a voice promising that the
Lord should come to him that day.
" All things are possible," said the woman. Then
she rose up, put on the jacket, wrapped it round her
little one, and then began to curtsey and thank
Avdyeeich once more
" Take this for Christ's sake," said Avdyeeich,
giving her a two-grivenka piece, "and redeem your
shawL" The woman crossed herself, Avdyeeich
crossed himself, and then he led the woman to the
door.
The woman went away. Avdyeeich ate up the
remainder of the cabbage soup, washed up, and again
sat down to work. He worked on and on, but he did
not forget the window, and whenever the window
was darkened he immediately looked up to see who
was passing. Acquaintances passed, strangers passed,
but there was no one in particular.
But now Avdyeeich sees how, right in front of his
window, an old woman, a huckster, has taken her
stand. She carries a basket of apples. Not many
now remained, she had evidently sold them nearly all.
Across her shoulder she carried a sack full of shavings.
She must have picked them up near some new build-
ing, and was taking them home with her. It was
plain that the sack was straining her shoulder. She
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Tales from Tolstoi
wanted to shift it on to the other shoulder, so she
rested the sack on the pavement, placed the apple-
basket on a small post, and set about shaking down
the shavings in the sack. Now while she was shak-
ing down the sack, an urchin in a ragged cap suddenly
turned up, goodness 'knows from whence, grabbed at
one of the apples in the basket, and would have made
off with it, but the wary old woman turned quickly
round and gripped the youth by the sleeve. The
lad fought and tried to tear himself loose, but the old
woman seized him with both hands, knocked his hat
off, and tugged hard at his hair. The lad howled,
and the old woman reviled him, Avdyeeich did not
stop to put away his awl, but pitched it on the floor,
rushed into the courtyard, and in his haste stumbled
on the steps and dropped his glasses. Avydeeich
ran out into the street. The old woman was tugging
at the lad's hair and wanted to drag him off to the
police, while the boy fought and kicked.
" I didn't take it," said he. " What are you whack-
ing me for ? Let me go ! "
Avydeeich came up and tried to part them. He
seized the lad by the arm, and said : " Let him go,
little mother ! Forgive him for Christ's sake ! "
" I'll forgive him so that he shan't forget the taste
of fresh birch-rods. I mean to take the rascal to the
police station."
Avdyeeich began to entreat with the old woman.
" Let him go, little mother, he will not do so any
more. Let him go for Christ's sake."
The old woman let him go. The lad would have
bolted, but Avdyeeich held him fast
if)
Where Love is there God is also
"Beg the little mother's pardon," said he, "and
don't do such things any more. I saw thee take
them."
Then the lad began to cry and beg pardon.
" Well, that's all right ! And now, there's an apple
for thee." And Avdyeeich took one out of the basket
and gave it to the boy. " I'll pay thee for it, little
mother," he said to the old woman.
" Thou wilt ruin them that way, the blackguards,"
said the old woman. " If I had the rewarding of him
he should not be able to sit down for a week."
" Oh, little mother, little mother ! " cried Avdyeeich,
" that is our way pf looking at things, but it is not
God's way. If we ought to be whipped so for the
sake of one apple, what do we deserve for our sins ? "
The old woman was silent.
And Avdyeeich told the old woman about the
parable of the master who forgave his servant a very
great debt, and how that servant immediately went
out and caught his fellow-servant by the throat
because he was his debtor. The old woman listened
to the end, and the lad listened too.
" God bade us forgive," said Avdyeeich, " otherwise
He will not forgive us. We must forgive everyone,
especially the thoughtless."
The old woman shook her head and sighed.
" That's all very well," she said, " but they are
spoiled enough already."
" Then it is for us old people to teach them better,"
said Avdyeeich.
" So say I," replied the old woman. " I had seven
of them at one time, and now I have but a single
123
Tales from Tolstoi
daughter left." And the old woman began telling
him where and how she lived with her daughter, and
how many grandchildren she had " I'm not what
I was," she said, " but I work all I can. I am sorry for
my grandchildren, and good children they are too.
No one is so glad to see me as they are. Little
Aksyutka will go to none but me. ' Grandma dear !
darling grandma ! ' " and the old woman was melted
to tears. " As for him," she added, pointing to the
lad, "boys will be boys, I suppose. Well, God be
with him ! "
Now just as the old woman was about to hoist the
sack on to her shoulder, the lad rushed forward and
said :
" Give it here and I'll carry it for thee, granny ! It
is all in my way."
The old woman shook her head, but she did put the
sack on the lad's shoulder.
And so they trudged down the street together side
by side. And the old woman forgot to ask Avdyeeich
for the money for the apple. Avdyeeich kept stand-
ing and looking after them, and heard how they talked
to each other, as they went, about all sorts of things.
Avdyeeich followed them with his eyes till they
were out of sight, then he turned homewards, and
found his glasses on the steps (they were not broken),
picked up his awl, and sat down to work again. He
worked away for a little while, but soon he was
scarcely able to distinguish the stitches, and he saw
the lamplighter going round to light the lamps. " I
see it is time to light up," thought he, so he trimmed
his little lamp, lighted it, and again sat down to work.
124
Where Love is there God is also
He finished one boot completely, turned it round and
inspected it. " Good !" he cried. He put away his
tools, swept up the cuttings, removed the brushes
and tips, put away the awl, took down the lamp, placed
it on the table, and took down the Gospels from the
shelf. He wanted to find the passage where he had
last evening placed a strip of morocco leather by way
of a marker, but he lit upon another place. And just
as Avdyeeich opened the Gospel he recollected his
dream of yesterday evening. And no sooner did he
call it to mind than it seemed to him as if some
persons were moving about and shuffling with their
feet behind him. Avdyeeich glanced round and saw
that somebody was indeed standing in the dark
corner yes, someone was really there, but who he
could not exactly make out. Then a voice whispered
in his ear :
" Martin ! Martin ! dost thou not know me ? "
" Who art thou ? " cried Avdyeeich.
" 'Tis I," cried the voice, " lo, 'tis I ! " And forth
from the dark corner stepped Stepanuich. He smiled,
and it was as though a little cloud were breaking, and
he was gone.
" It is I ! " cried the voice, and forth from the
corner stepped a woman with a little child ; and the
woman smiled and the child laughed, and they also
disappeared.
" And it is I ! " cried the voice, and the old woman
and the lad with the apple stepped forth, and both
of them smiled, and they also disappeared.
And the heart of Avdyeeich was glad. He crossed
himself, put on his glasses, and began to read the
"5
Tales from Tolstoi
Gospels at the place where he had opened them.
And at the top of the page he read these words:
" And I was an hungred and thirsty and ye gave Me
to drink. I was a stranger and ye took Me in."
And at the bottom of the page he read this : " In-
asmuch as ye have done it to the least of these My
brethren, ye have done it unto Me."
And Avdyeeich understood that his dream had not
deceived him, and that the Saviour had really come
to him that day, and he had really received Him.
126
THE CANDLE: OR HOW THE GOOD MUZHIK
OVERCAME THE EVIL OVERSEER.*
"Ye have heard that it is written : eye for eye and tooth for tooth.
But I say unto you resist not evil." Matt. v. 38-39.
THIS thing happened in the days of the masters, t
There were masters of all sorts. There were those
who were mindful of God and the hour of death, and
dealt mercifully with their people, and there were
curs who thought not of these things at all. But
there were no worse tyrants than those who had been
serfs themselves : from dirt they sprang, like Princes
they sang ! % And living with them was the worst
life of all.
An overseer of this sort was placed over the domain.
There were serfs on the property. There was plenty
of land there good land plenty of water, and of
meadows and woods no lack. There was enough for
all, enough for the master, and enough for the
peasants, and the master set his house-serf from
another estate over the whole.
* Translated from the popular Moscow edition of 1886.
t t.. Before the emancipation of the serfs.
J Russian equivalent of " Put a beggar on horseback," &c.
Tales from Tolstoi
The overseer had the upper hand, and he sat on
the necks of the muzhiks. He, too, was a family
man ; he had a wife and two married daughters, and
he had earned money, and had wherewith to live upon,
to live upon without sin ; but he was envious and
sunken in sin. He began by worrying the muzhiks
on the estate till their life became a burden to them.
He set on foot a brick-field, and there he ground down
the muzhiks, women and all, and made them make
and sell the bricks. The muzhiks went to Moscow
and complained to the proprietor, but their complaint
came to nought. He sent away the muzhiks un-
answered, and did not withdraw his favour from
the overseer. The overseer found out that the
muzhiks had gone to complain of him, and he paid
them out for it. The existence of the muzhiks became
worse than ever. Among the muzhiks themselves,
too, there were people without good faith, and they
began to tell tales of their brethren and play the spy
on one another. So there was a great confusion
among the whole community, and the overseer raged
like a madman.
And so matters went from bad to worse, and the
overseer led them such a life that they began to fear
him like a wild beast. If he walked about in the
village they all hid themselves away as if he were a
wolf, and whosoever met him dared not so much as
raise their eyes to his face. And the overseer saw
this and grew even more evilly disposed towards them
because they feared him so. And he visited them
yet more with stripes and tasks, and the muzhiks
suffered many grievous plagues at his hands.
128
The Candle
The muzhiks at last began to talk among them-
selves about these evil deeds. They met together,
too, in some secluded nook, and the boldest of them
said : " How much longer are we going to endure
our tyrant ? Let us fall upon him all together ; 'tis
no sin to kill such an one! "
Towards Easter the muzhiks had assembled in a
wood ; it was a wood belonging to their lord. The
overseer had ordered them to clear it ; they came
together at the mid-day meal and began to talk.
" How is it possible to go on living like this ? " they
said. " He is destroying us root and branch. He
is wearing us to death with work ; neither night nor
day does he give us or our wives any rest. Simeon
died from his violence, Anisim is tortured in prison.
What more must we look for? He will come here
this evening and begin again to rate and revile us.
Come, now, let us tear him from his horse and beat
him on the head with our axes, and there's an end
to the business. We'll dig a hole somewhere and
chuck him into it like a dog, and we shall hear no
more about it. Only let us be agreed, let us all stand
together, let us keep our own counsel ! "
It was Vasily Minaev who spoke thus. He had a
bitterer grudge against the overseer than any of the
others. For the overseer whipped him every week,
and took away his wife to make her his cook.
So the muzhiks talked about it, and in the evening
came the overseer. He was on horseback, and im-
mediately began scolding them for the way they were
clearing the wood. He hit upon a group of lindens.
"I did not tell you to clip the lindens," said he.
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Tales from Tolstoi
"Who has been clipping them down here? Speak,
or I'll flog the whole lot of you ! "
They began inquiring among themselves within
whose portion of work the lindens fell. They pointed
out Sidor. The overseer struck Sidor till his whole
face was covered with blood. He also flicked Vasily
with hie Tatar whip because his piece of work was
bad, and so went home.
In the evening the muzhiks met together again
and Vasily began to speak :
" Ugh ! a nice lot of people ye are ! Ye are not
men, but sparrows ! ' We'll be ready ! we'll be ready ! '
ye cry ; the moment comes, and whew ! ye are all
safely beneath the thatch! Thus do the sparrows
band together against the hawk. ' Don't give in !
don't give in ! be ready ! be ready ! ' The hawk comes
flying, and they are all behind the thistles in a twink-
ling, and the hawk takes what he will and is off with
it. The sparrows all flit off : ' Chee-week ! chee-
week ! ' not one of them remains. 'Tis just like you.
'We won't give in! we won't give in!' Why, while
he was rounding on Sidor you might have brought
him to the ground and finished him. 'We won't
give in ! we won't give in ! we'll stand firm ! we'll stand
firm ! ' He comes flying up, and immediately you are
off among the bushes ! "
Then they fell a-talking more and more, and the
muzhiks agreed at last to put the overseer out of the
way. On Good Friday the overseer ordered the
muzhiks to get the land ploughed up ready for the
oat-sowing by Easter Day. This seemed an
abominable thing to the muzhiks, and they assembled
130
The Candle
together again on Good Friday in Vasily's outhouse,
and again began talking the matter over.
" If he forgets God," they said, " and will do such
things, it is but right and just to slay him. Let us
fall upon him all at once."
Petr Mikhaev was also with them. A man of peace
was the muzhik, Petr Mikhaev, and he entered not
into the counsels of the muzhiks. Mikhaev came
thither, heard their words, and then said :
" My brethren, ye are planning a great sin. To
kill a soul 'tis a great matter. 'Tis an easy thing
to destroy another's soul, but how about one's own?
He does evil, then evil awaits him. Ye, my brethren,
must suffer patiently."
Vasily was very wroth at these words.
" You say 'tis a sin to kill a man. Of course it
is a sin, but what sort of a man, I ask? It is a sin
to kill a good man, but such a dog as this God Him-
self bids us kill. A mad dog that injures people ought
to be killed. It would be a greater sin not to kill
him. He is always worrying people! And we are
to suffer it ! I suppose we ought to say ' thank you '
too! What! stand gaping at him while he ill-uses
us! Thy words are empty words, Mikhyeich.*
What! is it not a less crime to kill him than all to
go out working on the feast of Christ? You surely
won't go yourself ! "
And Mikhyeich replied :
" Why should I not go ? " said he, " I will go work-
ing and ploughing. 'Tis not my doing, but God
* Familiar diminutive.
Tales from Tolstoi
knows whose is the sin : 'tis for us not to forget Him,
that's all. I speak not of my own thoughts, brothers.
If ye are bidden return evil for evil, remember that
God has laid down a law for us which bids us do
contrariwise. Thou art about to do evil, but the evil
will fall back on thee. It is not wise to slay a man.
His blood sticks to thy soul. Kill a man, and thy
soul will be stained with blood. Thou thinkest, I
am killing a bad man ; thou thinkest, I am putting
down evil; but look now! thou art drawing upon
thyself an evil worse than that. Submit to misery,
and misery will submit itself to thee."
So the muzhiks came to no determination, but
separated, each with his own thoughts. Some thought
as Vasily had spoken, others agreed with the words
of Petr, that they ought not to do evil, but to suffer.
The muzhiks were preparing to keep the first day
of the week, Easter Sunday, but on the eve of the
festival the starosta* came with the village scribe
from the manor house, and said :
" Michal Semenovich, the overseer, has ordered the
peasants to set to work to-morrow, and plough up
the land for the oat-sowing."
Then the starosta went his rounds with the village
scribe, and bade them all go out on the morrow to
plough, some by the river and some by the high road.
The muzhiks fell a-weeping, but they dared not dis-
obey ; in the morning they went out with their teams
and began to plough. In the church God was glori-
fied in the early mass, the people everywhere kept
* The eldest of the peasants, who supervised the rest.
The Candle
the festival, but the peasants were ploughing all the
time.
Michal Semenovich, the overseer, slept and slept,
and it was no longer early when he came downstairs.
The people of his household, his wife, and his
widowed daughter (she had come for the festival) had
tricked themselves out in their best ; the day labourer
had got the little wagon ready for them, they went
to mass, they came back ; the day labourer's wife
put the samovar on the table, Michal Semenovich
joined them, they drank tea together. Michal
Semenovich drank his tea, lit his pipe, and sent for
the starosta.
" Well," said he, " have you set the muzhiks on
a-ploughing? "
" I have set them on, Michal Semenovich."
" What, did they all turn out ? "
" They all turned out. I set each man his task
myself."
" To set a task is one thing, to make them do it is
another. Will they -plough, that's the question? Go
and see, and tell them I am coming after dinner.
Every couple of hooked ploughs must plough up an
acre, and plough it up well, too. If I find a single
plot unploughed, I shall not wear festival features, I
can tell you."
" I hear."
And the starosta was about to depart when Michal
Semenovich made him turn back. It seemed as if he
wanted to say something and did not know how. He
fumbled about and he fumbled about, and at last he
spoke.
Tales from Tolstoi
" Look here now, just you listen to me ! Don't you
know that those rascals are always talking about me ?
If anyone murmurs, and if anything is said, you must
tell me all about it I know the scoundrels ; they
love not work, they would lie on their sides and loll
about doing nothing. Guzzle and keep festival
that's what they like, and they think nothing of shirk-
ing and scamping their work. So look you now ! you
just listen to all they say and bring me word about
it again. I must know it. Go and look now! tell
me everything and leave out nothing."
The starosta returned,. mounted his nag, and went
out into the field to the muzhiks.
The wife of the overseer had heard what her
husband said to the starosta ; she went to her husband
and began to pray him be merciful. The over-
seer's wife was a meek woman, and her heart within
her was good. When she could, she softened her
husband, and stood between him and the muzhiks.
She went to her husband and began to implore
him.
" Mishen'ka,* my friend, for the sake of this great
day, the feast of the Lord, sin not! For Christ's
sake let the muzhiks go ! "
Michal Semenovich paid no heed to his wife's
words, he did but laugh at her.
" Tis a long time," said he, " since the little whip
played about thee, and made thee laugh on the wrong
side of thy mouth wilt thou mind thine own
business? "
* Dear little Mike.
The Candle
"Mishen'ka, my friend, I saw an evil dream con-
cerning thee ; listen to me, let the muzhiks go ! "
" I tell thee what," said he, " 'tis as I have said, thou
hast eaten so much of my fat things, I see, that thou
hast no more thought of the flavour of the whip that
stings ! Look to thyself ! "
And in his wrath Semenovich struck his wife in the
teeth with his burning pipe-bowl, and drove her out
and bade her get dinner ready.
Michal Semenovich ate like a brute ; he ate pasties,
cabbage soup with swine's flesh, and curd dumplings ;
he drank cherry brandy, then he ate sweet tarts, and
then he sent for the cook and made her sit down and
sing songs while he took out his guitar and played
to her singing.
There sat Michal Semenovich in a merry mood ;
ran over the strings of the guitar and made merry
with the cook. Then came the starosta, bowed to
the ground, and began to report what he had seen in
the field.
"Well, are they ploughing? Have they ploughed
their allotted task?"
" They have already ploughed more than half of it."
"And there are no plots unploughed?"
" I saw none ; they ploughed well ; they are
afraid."
"And is the quality of the land good?"
" The quality of the land is soft, it crumbles up
like poppy seed."
And the starosta was silent.
"Well, and what say they about me; did they
revile?"
135
Tales from Tolstoi
The starosta faltered, but Michal Semenovich bade
him say exactly how matters stood.
" Say everything, 'tis not thy, but their words thou
wilt speak. Speak the truth and I'll reward thee, but
and thou hide aught or speak not openly I'll flog thee
to "the bone. Hie! Katyushka!* give him a glass of
vodka to strengthen his heart ! ! "
The cook came and gave the starosta a drink. The
starosta toasted the overseer, drained the glass, dried
his lips, and began to speak. " 'Tis all one," he
thought ; " it is not my fault that they don't praise
him. I'll speak the truth if he commands it." And
the starosta took heart and began to speak.
" They murmur, Michal Semenovich, they murmur ! "
" And what do they say ? Speak ! "
" They all say : ' He does not believe in God.' "
The overseer smiled.
" They say that, eh ? Who says it ? "
"Why, they all say it. They say: 'He is under
the thumb of the Unclean One,'f they do, indeed."
The overseer laughed.
"They say that, eh? Good. Now tell me exactly
which it was that said it. Did Vassy say it ? "
The starosta did not wish to tell of his people, but
he had long been on ill terms with Vasily.
"Yes, Vasily does say it, he goes on worse than
any of them."
"Well, what did he say? Come, tell me!"
" He says dreadful things. ' 'Tis not to be put up
with,' he says : ' violent death to him ! ' '
* Katie.
t A very usual term in Russian for Satan.
136
The Candle
"Oh, ho! young man! he says that, eh? So he
spits out threads, eh ? He won't kill, though, his arms
are not long enough for that ! Very well, Vassy, we'll
reckon up with thee presently! Well, and that
Tishka, what of him? He's a dog, too, I know! "
" Yes, they all speak evil "*
Michal Semenovich was delighted, he even laughed.
" We'll see to this. Who came out with it first ?
Who was it? Tishka?"
"Well, not one of them has a good word to say,
they all murmur, they all curse."
" Well, and Petrushkaf Mikhaev ? What does he
say ? He's a sneak ; I know he cursed, too ; now
didn't he ? "
" No, Michal Semenovich, Petr did not curse."
" Well, what did he do?"
" He was the only one of the muzhiks who said
nothing. And he is a strange man. I don't know
what to make of Petr Mikhaev."
"How so?"
" I mean the way he goes about things. All the
muzhiks are puzzled about him."
" What way, then, does he go about things? "
" Well, I don't know how ; but he is a strange man.
I went up to him. He was ploughing the top acre
on the tongue of land near Tarkin. I was going up
to him, I say, I heard him singing something or other
in a small, soft voice, and in the middle of the plough-
shaft something was burning."
"Well?"
* A somewhat crude passage is here omitted.
t Peterkin.
Tales from Tolstoi
"It shone just like a tiny fire. I went nearer. I
see what it is : a five-kopeck wax candle fixed on to
the cross-piece is burning, and the wind does not put
it out. And he is walking along in a new shirt, and
ploughing, and singing Easter hymns. He turns
round and rattles off the other way, and the light does
not go out. He rattles by me, turns the ploughshare
round, and still the light does not go out, but keeps
on burning."
" Did he say anything ? "
" No. he said nothing, only when he saw me he
gave me the Easter kiss, and then went on singing."
" And did you say aught to him? "
" I said nothing, but now the muzhiks came up and
began laughing at him. ' Go along with thee,
Mikhyeich,' they said, ' thou wilt never pray away the
sin of ploughing on Easter Day.' "
"And what did he say?"
" He only said, ' Peace on earth, good-will among
men.' Then he fell to ploughing again, whipped up
the horses, and sang with a soft voice, and the light
burns all the time, and does not go out."
The overseer ceased to laugh; he put aside the
guitar, bent down his head, and fell a-thinking.
He sat and sat, he drove away the cook and the
starosta, went behind the curtains, lay down on his
bed, and began to sigh began to groan like a cart
groaning beneath a load of sheaves. His wife came
and began to speak to him ; he gave her no answer.
All he said was : " He has overcome me, it is my turn
now."
His wife began to reason with him. " Go now,"
138
The Candle
said she, " and let them go. Perhaps it is nothing.
Whatsoever things thou didst heretofore, thou didst
them and feared not, and now thou art sorely afraid."
" I have fallen," he said, " he has overcome me. Go
away, there is naught amiss with thee ; this does not
prick thy soul."
So he would not get up.
In the morning he arose and went about his
business as before, but it was plain that his heart was
pricked. He fell a-fretting, and nothing prospered
to his hands. He always sat at home now. He did
not reign very long after this. His master came.
He sent for his overseer the overseer was ill, they
said ; he sent again ill. Then the master found
out that he drank, and dismissed 'him from his
overseership. Michal Semenovich stood there now
without a means of livelihood. And now he grieved
still more, pawned all he had, and drank it away ;
then he sank so low that he stole the clothes from
his wife's back, and carried them to the pot-house.
The very muzhiks had pity on him, and gave him to
drink. After that he did not live a year. He died
of drink.
'39
NEGLECT A FIRE, AND TWILL OVERMASTER
THEE!
" Then Peter came to Him, and said, Lord, how often shall I forgive
my brother when he sins against me? Till seven times? ....
Therefore your Heavenly Father will not forgive you if everyone of you
do not also forgive his brother his trespasses." Matt, xviii. 21-35.
THERE lived in the country a serf, Ivan Shcherbakov,
and it was well with him. He himself was in the
fulness of his strength, the first workman in the village,
and he had three sons on their legs,* one married,
one engaged to be married, and the third who had
begun to go out with the horses and plough. Ivan's
old womant was wise, and a good manager, and her
daughter-in-law turned out to be meek and a hard
worker. There were no idle mouths about the house
save a sick old father, who had lain on the stove for
seven years from asthma. There was lots and to
spare at Ivan's place three horses with their foals,
a cow with her one-year-old calf, and fifteen sheep.
The women made shoes and clothes for the men, and
wrought women's work at home ; the muzhiks did
peasants' work.f There was bread in abundance.
* i.e. Able to shift for themselves.
t Starukha (wife).
I i.e. Tilled the ground.
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Neglect a Fire, and 'twill overmaster thee
There was of oats enough to pay all the taxes and
provide for all wants. Ivan and his children had only
to live happily together and be content. But they
had a neighbour a next-door neighbour, Gabriel
Khromoi,* the son of Gordy Ivanov, and enmity
arose between him and Ivan.
So long as old Gordy was alive, and Ivan's father
managed affairs, the muzhiks lived friendly together.
If the women wanted a sieve or a tub, if the men
wanted to borrow a sack or a wheel from time to
time, they used to send these things from one
house to the other ; they were neighbours, always
ready with a helping hand. If the calf ran into the
threshing-floor they drove him off, and simply said :
" Don't come to us, pray ; the corn-heaps are not yet
stacked." But as for locking up the barns or out-
houses, or hiding anything away therein, or tale-
bearing one against the other, all such things never
once entered into their heads.
Thus they lived in the days of the old people. But
the young people now began to keep house, and
things were otherwise.
The veriest trifle was the cause of it all. Ivan's
daughter-in-law had a hen which was a good layer.
The young woman was collecting the eggs for Easter.
Every day she went for the new-laid egg to the shed
of the cart-house.
One day, however, scared perhaps by the cries of
the children, the hen flew across the hurdle fence into
the neighbour's grounds, and there settled down to
* The lame.
Tales from Tolstoi
lay. The young woman heard the hen cackling, and
thought, "I have no time now, I have to get things
ready against the feast ; I'll come a little later, and
fetch the egg away then."
She came in the evening to the shed in the cart-
house, plunged in her hand no egg was there. The
young woman asked her mother-in-law and her
brother-in-law,
"Have you taken it?"
"No," they said, "we have not taken it"
But Taraska, her younger brother-in-law, said :
" Your cackler has settled down in our neighbour's
yard, there has been a great clucking there, and from
thence she has flown back again."
The young woman looked and saw her clucker ;
it was sitting beside the cock on the harness of the
horses, and had just closed its eyes, it was going to
sleep. She would have liked to have asked it where
it had been, but it would not have answered. Then
the young woman went to the neighbour's. The old
woman of the house came to meet her.
" What do you want, young woman ? "
" Why, granny," said she, " my hen has flown over
to you ; hasn't she laid her egg somewhere there ? "
" We have seen nothing at all. We have our own.
God has given us what we have, and for a long time
our hens have laid well. We gather our own ; we
want not other people's things. My girl, we don't
go seeking eggs in other people's barns."
The young woman was much put out. She was
saucy. Her neighbour paid her back in her own
coin ; and so the women fell a-wrangling. Ivan's
142
Neglect a Fire, and 'twill overmaster thee
wife went out to draw water, and she got mixed up
in it. Gabriel's wife rushed out ; she began to abuse
her neighbour. She told her the plain truth, and she
wove into her speech what was not truth at all. They
fell a-screeching. They all shrieked together ; they
tried to speak two different things at the same time.
And their words grew worse and worse.
"If I'm this, you're that."
" You're a thief ! you're a slut ! . . . you're no good
at all."
"And you are a beggar; you borrowed my sieve
and spoilt it. Even the pump-handle you've got is
ours ; give us back our pump-handle."
They seized hold of the pump-handle, spilt all the
water, wet their clothes, and fell a-fighting. Gabriel
came in from the field, and took the part of his old
woman. Ivan rushed out with his son : there was
now a whole heap of them. Ivan was a strong and
vigorous muzhik he scattered the lot of them.
Gabriel had a bit of his beard torn out. A crowd
came together and separated them by force.
That was the beginning of it. Gabriel wrapped his
bit of beard in a piece of paper, and went to bring
an action in the local court.
" I do not let my beard grow in order that that
freckled Van'ka* may pull it out," said he.
And his wife boasted to the neighbours that he
was going to bring his action against Ivan, who would
be sent to Siberia. And so the quarrel went on.
From the very first day the old man exhorted them
* A contemptuous diminutive for Ivan.
143
Tales from Tolstoi
to peace from the top of the stove, but the young
people did not listen to him. This was what he said :
" Children, ye do foolishly, and foolishness will
come of it. Bethink you now; the whole matter
about which ye make such a to-do turns upon an
egg! The children have taken the egg, much good
may it do them! An egg 'tis a sorry prize! God
has enough for all. She spoke vile words to thee!
Correct her, then ; teach her to speak better ! But
ye have squabbled sinful folks! Let it go no
further. Go and beg pardon ; put a cover over it
all. But an' ye go evil ways 'twill be worse for you."
The young people did not listen to the old man ;
they thought that all the old man said did not meet
the case in point, and was only grandfatherly twaddle.
Ivan did not humble himself before his neighbour.
" I didn't pull out his beard," said he ; " he tugged
it out himself, and he tore off my shirt-button, and
tore my shirt right down. That's how it is."
And so Ivan went to law. They went to law about
it in the local court, and in the district court too.
And while these suits were pending, Gabriel lost the
pole-bolt of his wagon, and Gabriel's women-kind
falsely accused Ivan's son of taking it
" We saw him," said they, " going at night past the
window to the wagon, and Gossip So-and-so says
that he went to the pot-house, and gave the innkeeper
the pole-bolt for drink."
So again they went to law ; arid at home there was
wrangling and squabbling all day long.
And the children squabbled too they had learnt
it from their elders ; and the women who met together
144
Neglect a Fire, and 'twill overmaster thee
at the brook were much busier with their tongues
than with their bleaching-sticks ; and so it got worse
and worse.
The two muzhiks began to talk ill of one another,
and then they went to law ; and if they found any-
thing lying about they filched it. And so the women
and children were taught to do the same. And life
amongst them grew worse and worse. Ivan Shcher-
bakov summoned Gabriel Khromoi before the general
assembly of peasants, and in the district court, and in
the land court of Mir : so that they worried all the
courts. And now Ivan had Gabriel punished or put
in prison : and now Gabriel, Ivan. And the more
they blackguarded each other, the more evil-disposed
did they grow. They were fighting like dogs : the
more they worried each other the more furious they
grew. Strike one such dog from behind, and he'll
fancy the other is biting him, and will hang on more
savagely than ever. So, too, these muzhiks. They
went to law and got each other fined or locked up,
and the end of it all was that their hearts were hotter
against each other than before.
" You just wait a bit, that's all, and I'll pay you out
for this."
And so it went on amongst them for six years.
Only the old man on the stove kept on saying the
selfsame thing, and began to entreat with them.
" What do ye, children ? Away with all your charges
and counter-charges. Neglect not your work, and
don't take offence at people, and it will be better for
you. But the more you are wrath with them the
worse it will be ! "
'45
N
Tales from Tolstoi
They listened not to the old man. It fell in the
seventh year after this, that Ivan's daughter-in-law at
a marriage feast rounded upon Gabriel in the presence
of many people, and said he had gone off with other
people's horses. Gabriel was drunk, he did not con-
trol his feelings ; he struck the woman, and injured
her so that she was in bed for a week. . . . Ivan was
glad He went and laid a complaint with the
magistrate. " Now," thought he, " I shall be quit of
my neighbour. He cannot avoid Siberia now."
And again Ivan's affair did not go as far as he
wished it. The magistrate would not listen to his
complaint. They came to see the woman ; the woman
got up, and there were no marks upon her. Ivan
went to the local mir-court, and the mir-court trans-
ferred the matter to the district court. Ivan laboured
hard at the district court, and plied the bailiff and
clerk with half a bucket of sweet drink, and managed
at last to get Gabriel condemned to a flogging on the
back. They read the sentence to Gabriel in court.
The clerk read : " It is the sentence of the court
that Gorde's serf Gabriel be punished by twenty
strokes with the birch in the presence of the district
court"
Ivan also heard the judgment and looked at
Gabriel what will he do next? On hearing it
Gabriel went as white as a sheet, turned round and
went out into the forecourt. Ivan went out after him:
he was going to his horses, when he heard something
Gabriel was speaking.
" Good ! " he was saying, " he will get my back
warmed for me ! It will sting me no doubt ; let him
146
Neglect a Fire, and 'twill overmaster thee
beware lest I make something warm him yet
more! "
On hearing these words Ivan immediately returned
to the court.
" Ye just judges ! He has begun to threaten me !
Listen, he has spoken before witnesses ! "
Gabriel was sent for.
" Is it true that you said something? "
" I said nothing. Flay me, since you have the
power! It is plain that I have to suffer, though in
the right ; and he may do anything he likes."
Gabriel would have said something more, but his
lips began to tremble, and his cheeks. And he turned
him round to the wall. Even the judges were
shocked when they looked at Gabriel.
" How now," thought they, " if he were straightway
to do some great mischief to his neighbour or to him-
self?"
And the oldest of the judges said: "Come now,
my friends, 'twill be better than good if ye make it
up. Now, friend Gabriel, canst thou say thou didst
well in striking that woman ? Good then ! God will
forgive thee whatsoever be thy sin! 'Tis good
so, isn't it? Thou dost confess thy fault and beg his
pardon, and he'll forgive thee. We will reverse our
former judgment."
The clerk heard this and said : " That is impossible,
because, according to article 117 of the Code, the
preliminary reconciliation has not yet been shown to
have taken place, so the sentence of the court alone
remains valid, and that sentence ought to be en-
forced"
'47
Tales from Tolstoi
But the judge did not listen to the clerk : " You
have an itching tongue," said he. " The first and only
code, brother, is, be mindful of God! and God bids
us be peacemakers."
And again the judge tried to persuade the muzhiks,
and he could not persuade them
Gabriel would not listen to him.
" Here am I fifty years old," said he ; " I've a son
married, and from my youth up I've never been
flogged ; and now this botcher Van'ka brings me
beneath the birch, and I am to salute him ! Well,
all I can say is, Van'ka shall have cause to remember
this!"
Again Gabriel's voice trembled. He could say no
more. He turned him round and went out.
From the court-house to the farm was ten versts,
and Ivan returned home late. The women had
already gone out to meet the cattle. He took out the
horse, tidied things up, and went into the izba.* There
was no one in the izba, the children had not yet re-
turned from the fields, and the women were with the
cattle. Ivan went in, sat down on a bench, and fell
a-thinking. He called to mind' how Gabriel had
received the sentence, and how he had grown pale
and turned towards the wall And his heart began
to prick him. He imagined how it would have been
with him if he had been sentenced to a whipping.
He felt sorry for Gabriel And he heard the old man
on the stove begin to cough, turn him about, put out
his feet, and come down from the stove. On getting
* The peasant's living room, with the big stove in it.
148
Neglect a Fire, and 'twill overmaster thee
down, the old man dragged himself towards the bench
and sat down. The effort of getting to the bench had
quite exhausted him. After coughing out his cough,
the old man leaned on the table for support, and said :
" Well, have they given judgment ? "
Ivan answered : " The sentence is twenty stripes
with birches."
The old man shook his head. ' 'Tis a bad job
thou hast done, Ivan," said he. " Oh, bad indeed !
Not to him but to thine own self hast thou done
badly. Come now! Does it ease thy shoulder at
all to bend his back? "
" It will not happen again," said Ivan.
" It will not happen again, sayest thou ? How has
he ever done thee a worse turn ? "
Ivan grew angry. "How? Do you mean to say
he has never wronged me? He nearly beat my old
woman to death ! And now he threatens to burn me
out. I suppose I am to bow low to him for that, eh ? "
The old man sighed, and said : " Thou, Ivan, dost
go and walk about the world quite freely, and I lie
on the stove the whole year through thou think'st
that thou seest everything, and I see nothing. No,
little one! Thou seest nothing, for an evil eye of
vengeance blinds thee. Others' sins are right before
thee, thine own behind thy back. Why say, He has
done wrong? If he only had done wrong, no evil
need have come of it. As if the ill-will between
people arises from the fault of one side only! Evil
arises from the fault of two. His wrong-doing is
plain before thine eyes, but thine own thou seest not
at all If only he had been evil, and thou hadst been
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Tales from Tolstoi
good, nothing of bad could have come of it Who
pulled his beard ? Who stole away his hayrick ?
Who dragged him before the courts? Thou livest
amiss, hence the evil ! I, my son, used not to live so,
nor have I taught thee the like. Did we of the olden
time live thus, my father and his father? How did
we live! Like neighbours. Did he want meal his
old woman would come : ' Uncle Frol, we want some
meal ! ' ' Dost thou, young woman ? then go to the
barn and take out as much as thou dost want.' Or
there would be no one with him to take out the
horses. ' Go thou, Vanyatka,* and take out his
horses/ And if anything was wanted with me I would
go to him. ' Uncle Gordy, we want this or that*
' Take it, Uncle Frol.' Thus fared it with us. And
thou also wouldst find thy life light and easy if lived
thus. But now? Dost thou mind the soldier who
told us all about Plevna the other day? There's a
worse war going on than this Plevna. Is not life a
greater war? and sin? Thou art a muzhik, thou art
the head of a household: ask thyself this thing.
What dost thou teach thy women-kind and children?
To lead a cat-and-dog life ! The other day Taraska,
and a loafer he is, reviled Aunt Arina, his mother
being by, and she only laughed at him. Dost
call that a good sign? Ask thyself that question.
Turn it over in thy mind. Should these things be?
Thou throwest a word at me, I throw thee back two ;
thou wrongest me, I requite it thee doubly. No, little
friend, Christ did not go about the world to teach
* Dear little Ivan.
Neglect a Fire, and 'twill overmaster thee
us fools such things as that ! If it be thy turn to speak,
keep silence, and his conscience will convict him
that is what He taught us, dear little brother. Thou
gettest a clout on the ear, but thou dost turn round
the other with : ' Well, strike if I be worth a blow ! '
But his conscience pricks him. He is reconciled to
thee, and will listen to thy words. That is what He
bade us to do, but not to have a high stomach. Why
art thou silent? Shall I go on speaking?"
Ivan was silent, he was listening.
The old man coughed again, coughed till he could'
speak again.
" Thou dost think that Christ in teaching us this
taught us badly. Nay, it is all for us and for our good.
Thou dost only think of thy earthly life : thou dost
think, will it be better or worse for us since that
Plevna made such a to-do among us? Thou dost
calculate how much of thy substance thou must spend
on going to law, how much for travelling, how much
for feeding thy family. Thou hast sons growing up
like little birds of prey, thy sole desire is to live fatly
and get on in the world, and thy savings grow less
and less. And wherefore ? I'll tell thee : from thy
pride. Instead of going out into the fields with thy
children to work, thou art out hunting down thy
enemy. Thou dost not plough up in time, thou dost
not sow in time, and she, our mother earth, therefore
does not bring forth her fruit. That corn of thine,
why does it not grow ? When didst thou sow ? Thou
earnest from the town. Thou hast been at law. 5 And
what did the courts decide ? Thine own neck suffered.
Alas, little one! Bethink thee of thine affairs ; return
Tales from Tolstoi
with thy children to thy plough and thine house,
and if anyone offend thee, forgive him, as God would
have it, and thou wilt have thine hands free to do
thy work, and thy heart within thee will always be
light."
Ivan was silent.
" That's the thing for thee, Vanya ! Listen to me,
an old man! Go to, harness thy grey horse, be
off straightway to the tribunal, cut short all thy
business there, and go in the morning to Gabriel, be
reconciled with him as God would have it, and invite
him to thy house. To-morrow will be a festival, the
Nativity of the Mother of God : put on the table thy
little samovar, and a little good spirit, and tear thy-
self away from all these sins, and let them no more be
heard of ; and say the same thing to the women and
children."
Ivan sighed. He thought to himself : " The old
man is right," and his heart quite went out to him,
only he did not know how to set about it, he did not
know how to make his peace with his neighbour.
And the old man began again, he guessed what was
on his mind.
" Go, Vanya, don't put it off. Put out the fire at
first ; thou wilt not be able to manage it when it burns
up."
Then the old man wanted to talk of other things,
but he had not said all his say when the women,
chattering like starlings, entered the hut. They had
heard all about the trial, and how Gabriel had been
sentenced to be whipped with birches, and he had
threatened to burn Ivan out of house and home.
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Neglect a Fire, and 'twill overmaster thee
They knew everything, and added of their own to
what they knew, and had already managed to quarrel
again with Gabriel's women-folk as they drove the
cattle home. They began to tell how Gabriel's
daughter-in-law had threatened them with the magis-
trate. This magistrate, they said, held a protecting
hand over Gabriel. He was now going to quash the
proceedings, and the schoolmaster, they said, was
going to write another petition to the Tsar himself
against Ivan ; in this petition everything which had
happened was to be set down, and there was all about
the tethering-peg, and the kitchen garden, and half
of Ivan's property was to be handed over to Gabriel.
Ivan listened to all their chattering, and again his
heart grew cold within him, and he began thinking
of making it up with Gabriel.
The master of a farm has always a lot to do. Ivan
did not talk with the women, but got up, went out
of the hut, and went to the barn and stables. By
the time he had finished what he had to do there,
the bright little sun had disappeared behind the farm,
and the children had come home from the fields.
They ploughed up the soil twice during the winter
for the summer crops. Ivan met them, and began
to question them about their work. He lent a hand,
helped them to put away things, laid aside a ragged
harness for mending, and would even have put the
stable-poles to rights, but meanwhile it had grown
quite dark. So Ivan left the poles for the morrow,
and threw fodder to the cattle, opened the gate and
let out Taraska with the horses that they might go
along the lane to their night-quarters, and again
J 53
Tales from Tolstoi
locked up, and put down the podvorotnya* " And
now I'll eat a little supper and go to bed," thought
Ivan, and taking up the tattered harness, he carried
it into the hut. And all this time he had forgotten
all about Gabriel, and about what his father had said.
Only when he was turning the handle of the door
and going into the house, he heard behind the fence
his neighbour " rowing " someone with a harsh
squeaky voice.
" Devil take him," Gabriel was shrieking, " I'll kill
him!"
Ivan stopped, stood still, and listened while Gabriel
was scolding, then he shook his head and went into
the hut.
He went into the hut, in the hut a fire was burning,
his young wife was sitting by the fire at her spinning,
the old woman was getting supper ready, his eldest
son was knitting socks, the second was at the table
reading from a little book, Taraska was getting ready
to go away for the night.
In the hut everything was bright and good, but for
that chilblain of a fellow, the bad neighbour.
Ivan came in grieved, pitched the cat off the bench,
and scolded the old woman because the kettle was
not in its right place. And Ivan began to feel
wretched. He sat down and frowned, and began to
work away at the harness, and he could not get out
of his head Gabriel's words when he threatened in
the court, or the words he had just heard: "I will
kill him!"
* The plank that goes beneath the door, hence the name.
'54
Neglect a Fire, and 'twill overmaster thee
The old woman gave Taraska his supper, he ate
a bit of it, put on his shubenka* and his kaftan,\
girded himself, took the bread, and went out into the
street to the horses. His elder brother wanted to go
with him, and Ivan himself got up and stood on the
steps before the house. In the courtyard it was now
quite dark, it was cloudy, and the wind was rising.
Ivan went away from the steps, helped his little son
up on horseback, scared away the foals, and stood
looking and listening, while Taraska went down
along the village and joined' the other children, till
they were all out of hearing. Ivan still stood at the
door, and Gabriel's words would not go out of his
head : " Take care I don't warm you with something
worse ! "
" And he'd do it, too," thought Ivan. " It is very
dry, and there's still some wind. He can creep up
from behind somewhere and light a fire, and then
make himself scarce. He can set a fire going, and I
could not get myself righted. If only I could come
upon him while he's at it, he should not get away in
a hurry."
And this impish little thought grew so in Ivan's
head that he did not go back to the steps, but went
right out into the street, behind the gate, behind the
corner. " I'll just go round the courtyard. Who
knows what he may be up to." And Ivan went very
softly along the enclosure. He only went round the
corner, and looked along the fence, and it seemed
to him as if something was moving in that corner,
* An old fur pelisse. t A long coat.
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Tales from Tolstoi
as if it peeped out, and then withdrew itself again into
the corner. Ivan stood stiil, as still as a mouse, he
listened and he looked all was still, only the wind
made the little leaves shiver on the branches of the
willows, and skimmed along the straw. It was dark
enough to put one's eyes out, but Ivan strained his
eyes through the darkness till he saw the whole
corner, and the plough and the projecting eaves.
There he stood and looked, and there was nothing.
" 'Tis plain I must have dreamt it," thought Ivan,
"but I'll go my rounds all the same," and he stole
softly round along the outhouses.
Ivan stepped very quietly on the tips of his toes,
so as not even to hear his own steps. He went right
to the very corner and looked, at the end of it some-
thing was sparkling by the plough, and disappeared
again. Ivan felt as if something had struck him to
the very heart. He stood stock-still. No sooner had
he stood still than the light burst forth more brightly
than ever, and he saw quite plainly a man with his
back towards him crouching down. He had a cap
on, and little wisps of straw in his hands which he
was lighting. Ivan's heart beat in his breast like a
captive bird. He swelled with rage, and advanced
with rapid strides. He no longer heeded the sound
of his own footsteps.
" Now," thought he, " there's no escaping, I'll catch
him on the very spot."
Ivan had not advanced two steps, when suddenly
the light grew brighter and brighter, there was no
longer a little patch of fire there, but the straw leaped
up in flame beneath the eaves and caught the roof;
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Neglect a Fire, and 'twill overmaster thee
and there stood Gabriel, every part of him was visible.
Ivan threw himself on Gabriel like a hawk upon a lark.
" I'll wring his neck, he shall not escape me now,"
thought he.
And the lame man himself now plainly heard steps,
turned round, and seeing no way of escape, crouched
up against the barn like a hare.
" Thou shalt not escape," screeched Ivan, and fell
upon him.
Just as he would have seized him by the collar,
Gabriel twisted himself loose from his grasp, and
caught Ivan by the lappet of his coat ; the lappet
gave way, and Ivan fell to the ground. Ivan leaped
to his feet : " Stop thief," he cried, and ran after him.
By the time he had got up, however, Gabriel was
already in his own courtyard, but here Ivan had
already caught him up, and was about to clutch hold
of him, when suddenly something crashed down on
his head just as if he had been struck by a stone in
the dark. Gabriel had caught up an oak chump from
his courtyard, and, when Ivan rushed towards him,
struck him with all his might on the head. Ivan
staggered dizzily, sparks flew up before his eyes, and
down he went. When he came to himself Gabriel
was no longer there, it was as light as day all about
him, and from the direction of his own courtyard
there was a humming and a whirring as of an engine
at work. Ivan turned him round and saw that the back
barn was all aflame, and the flames had also caught
the side ba,rn, and the fire and the smoke and chips of
burning straw were driving with the smoke towards
the hut
Tales from Tolstoi
"Why, what is all this, my brothers?" cried Ivan,
and raised and wrung his hands ; " why, I've only got
to pull the burning stuff from under the roof and
trample it out ! "
He would have called out, but his breath failed
him, he could not utter a sound. He would have
run his legs did not move they clave together.
He tottered on a step or two and down he fell, his
breath again failing him. He stood up and gasped
and went on again. By the time he had gone the
round of the barn and got to the fire the side barn
was now all ablaze, the corner of the hut had also
caught, and the door too, and out of the hut rolled
waves of fire ; there was no getting at it. A lot of
people came running up, but nothing could be done.
The neighbours drew their own things out of the
reach of the fire, and drove their cattle out of their
yards. Gabriel's barns now also caught the fire from
Ivan's; the wind arose and whirled right down the
street. It swept away half the village like a broom.
All they could pull out of Ivan's hut was the old
man, the rest leaped out as best they could and left
everything. Except the horses in their night-quarters
all the cattle were burned ; the fowls were burned on
their perches ; the carts, the ploughs, the harrows, the
women's things, the bread in the cupboards, every-
thing was burned.
Gabriel's live stock was driven out, and they
managed to snatch a thing or two of his from the
flames.
The burning lasted a long time, all night through
in fact. Ivan stood outside his courtyard and looked
158
Neglect a Fire, and 'twill overmaster thee
on, and could only keep repeating, " What is this, my
brothers? You have only to seize hold of it and
put it out." But when the roof of the hut fell in, he
rushed towards the fire, seized the burning beam,
and dragged it out of the flames. The women saw
him and began crying to him to go back, but he
dragged out the beam and ran back for others, and
staggered and fell into the fire. His son ran forward
and dragged him out. Ivan's beard had caught fire
and his hair ; he had scorched through his clothes,
and his hands were injured, but he felt nothing.
" He has got crazy over the fire," the people said.
The fire began to die out, but Ivan still kept stand-
ing there and said all along :
"What's all this, my brothers? Come and but
buckle to it, and we'll put it out"
In the morning the starosta sent his son to fetch
Ivan.
" Uncle Ivan, thy parent is dying, and he bade us
call thee to him."
Ivan had clean forgotten even his father, and under-
stood not what they said to him.
" What," said he, " my parent? What's his name? "
" He bade us send for thee ; he is in our hut, and
dying. Come, Uncle Ivan."
Ivan with a great effort rallied his wits, and went
with the son of the starosta.
The old man, while they were drawing him out, had
fallen among the burning straw and been burnt all
over. They carried him to the starosta's, to a hamlet a
good way off, out of reach of the fire.
When Ivan came in to his father the only persons
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Tales from Tolstoi
in the hut were an old woman and some children on
the stove. All the others had gone to the fire. The
old man lay upon a bench with a taper in his hand,
and was looking sideways at the door. When his son
came in he shifted a bit The old woman went to
him and told him that his son had come. He bade
her call him closer. Ivan went right up to him, and
then the old man spoke.
" What did I say to thee, Vanyatko ?* Who burned
the village? "
" 'Twas he, dear little father," said Ivan, " I caught
him at it. He was at my place and set fire to the roof.
I need only have pulled off a lump of burning straw
and put it out, and there would have been no fire at
alL"
" Ivan," said the old man, " I am nigh unto death,
and thou wilt die too. Whose was the sin ? "
Ivan looked at his father and was silent ; he could
not utter a word.
"In God's Name speak! Whose was the sin?
What did I tell thee?"
Then only did Ivan wake up and understand every-
thing. He sniffed with his nose and fell down on
his knees before his father, burst into tears, and
said :
" Mine is the fault, dear little father. Forgive me
for Christ's sake! I am guilty both before thee and
before God!"
The old man shifted his hands, transferred the
taper to his left hand, moved his right hand towards
* Little Ivan Jacky.
160
Neglect a Fire, and 'twill overmaster thee
his brow; he wanted to cross himself, but he could
not get his hand far enough round, so he forbore.
" Glory be to Thee, O Lord ! Glory be to Thee,
O Lord," said he, and again he cast a glance at his
son.
"Van'kabutVan'ka!"
"What is it, dear little father?"
" What ought to be done now ? "
Ivan was all in tears. " I know not, dear little
father, how I shall live now," said he.
The old man closed his eyes and moved his lips as
if he were rallying all his strength, and again he
opened his eyes, and he said :
" Live and prosper. With God ye shall live live
and prosper. "
The old man was again silent for a time. Then he
smiled and said :
" Look now, Van'ya ! Don't say who set the fire
on. Hide others' sins, and God will forgive thee thine
twice over."
And the old man grasped the taper with both hands,
folded them on his breast, sighed, stretched himself,
and died.
Ivan did not tell of Gabriel, and nobody ever knew
who was the author of the fire.
And Ivan's heart went out to Gabriel, and Gabriel
was astonished that Ivan told nobody anything about
it. At first Gabriel was afraid of him, but afterwards
he quieted down.
The muzhiks ceased quarrelling and their families
161
O
Tales from Tolstoi
ceased quarrelling also. Until tihe village was built
up, both families lived together in one abode, and
when the village was quite built up again, the farms
were larger in extent, and Ivan and Gabriel were
neighbours again as in one nest.
And Ivan and Gabriel lived neighbourly together as
their fathers had done. And Ivan Shcherbakov
remembered the counsel of the old man, and the divine
precept that a fire (of hate) should be put out at the
very beginning.
And if anyone did ill to him he laid wait, not to
revenge himself, but to smooth matters straight
again ; and if anyone said an ill-word to him, he did
not wait his opportunity to say a still more evil one,
but how to teach such a one not to say evil things,
and so also did he teach his women folk and children.
And Ivan Shcherbakov amended his ways and lived
better than heretofore.
i6a
TWO OLD MEN.*
" The woman said, Sir, I see Thou art a prophet .... But
the hour cometh, and now is, when the true worshippers shall worship
the Father in spirit and in truth : for the Father seeketh such to
worship Him." -John iv. 19, 23.
Two old men agreed once upon a time to go and pray
to God in old Jerusalem. One was a rich muzhik,
called Efim Tarasuich, the other a poor man, called
Elisyei Bodrov.
Efim was an austere muzhik ; he drank no vodka,
and smoked and snuffed no tobacco, never had he
chided with vile black words, he was a man severe and
stern. Two whole terms had Efim served as starosta,
and at the end of his terms his accounts were clear
and clean. His family was large. Two sons and a
grandson were married, and they all lived together.
He was a healthy, well-bearded, and stalwart muzhik,
and in his seventh decade there was but a stripe of
grey in his beard. The old man Elisyei was neither
very rich nor very poor. Formerly he had been an
itinerant carpenter, but since old age had come upon
him he had settled down at home. He had one son
Translate d from tho Moscow popular edition of 18871,
163
Tales from Tolstoi
out at work, and another at home. Elisyei was a
good-humoured, cheerful man. He drank vodka and
took snuff, and loved to sing songs ; but he was a
man of peace, and lived amicably with those at home,
and with his neighbours. In person Elisyei was a
somewhat short muzhik, somewhat dark, with a curly
beard and a bald head.
The old men had for a long time decided and agreed
to go together, but Tarasuich could never find time,
his affairs stood in the way. When one was finished,
another turned up ; at one time he had to get his
grandson married, at another time he had to await
the return of his youngest son from the wars, and at
another he had undertaken the building of a new hut.
Oue day the old men met together on a festival,
and sat down on a bench.
" Well," said Elisyei, " when, gossip, shall we go
and fulfil our vow ? "
Efim began wrinkling his brow. " We must wait,"
said he ; " this year has turned out a hard one for me.
I shall have to build up this hut of mine. I had
thought to have laid by a hundred roubles, and have
only a third of that That is not enough. 'Tis plain
we must postpone it till the spring. In a year, if
God lets us live to see another, we will go without
fail."
" In my opinion," said Elisyei, " 'tis no good putting
off, we should go now. It is the very time spring."
" The time may be the right time, but business is
business, one cannot neglect it."
" Hast thou, then, none of thine own people by
thee? Cannot thy son see to thy business? "
164
Two Old Men
"How can he do it? My eldest I can't depend
upon he's no good."
" Bear with him, gossip ! He will manage to live
without our help. One must teach one's son a
little."
" No doubt, but everyone likes to see to one's own
affairs one's self."
" Ah, but my dear man, thou wilt never be able to
superintend everything. Look now! A few days
ago the women with us were washing and making
ready against the feast. And this was wanted and
that was wanted, and there was so much to do that
they did not know where to buckle to first. Now
my eldest daughter is a canny body, and she said,
' Thanks for nothing,' said she, ' the festival is coming
on, and it won't wait for you, and work as you will
you won't get through all your work.' "
Tarasuich fell a-thinking. " I shall spend a bit of
money on this building," said he, " and I must not go
on this trip empty-handed either. 'Tis a good bit of
money a hundred roubles."
Elisyei laughed. " Sin not, gossip," said he. " Thy
means are tenfold more than mine. And thou talkest
about money! Say, when shall we be off? I have
nothing, and yet I'll find some."
Even Tarasuich smiled at this. "Now thou re-
vealest thyself, thou man of wealth ! " said he.
" Whence then wilt thou draw thy money ? "
" Oh, I'll scrape together something at home, and
if that doesn't suffice I'll sell ten of my prize bee-hives
to my neighbour, he has been bidding for them for
a long time."
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Tales from Tolstoi
"The bee-swarms will be good this year; thou
wilt repent it"
"Repent it! Nay, gossip, in this life I repent of
nothing but my sins. There is nothing dearer than
one's soul."
"That's right enough, but for all that disorder at
home is no good thing."
" But if there be disorder in our souls, that is worse.
But we have vowed we must go ; it is only right
to go."
IL
And Elisyei persuaded his comrade.
Efim turned the matter over and over in his mind,
and in the morning he went to Elisyei.
" Come, let us go," said he, " thou art right. God's
will be done in life and death. We ought to go while
we are strong 1 and hale."
In a week the old men got them ready.
Tarasuich had money at home. He took 190
roubles (19) for his journey, and left 200 roubles
(20) with his old woman. Elisyei also got ready.
He sold his neighbour ten prize bee-hives, with all
the swarms that they might produce, and got 70
roubles (7) for the lot. The remaining 30 roubles
(3) he scraped together at home by hook and by
crook ; his old woman gave up her savings, which
she had saved up against her burial, to the last penny,
and his daughter-in-law gave him her savings also.
Enm Tarasuich gave his eldest son directions as
166
Two Old Men
to everything : where he was to mow and how much,
what lands he was to manure, and how he was to
repair and roof in the hut. He foresaw and gave
directions about everything. But Elisyei only bade
his old woman collect, one by one, the swarms of
young bees belonging to the ten hives he had sold
to his neighbour, and let him have them without
deceit ; about household matters he did not speak
at all ; she would know best what to do as things
turned up. " Thou art thine own mistress, do as it
seems best to thee."
The old men made them ready. They fried them
home-made fritters, mended their knapsacks, cut them
out fresh sandals, sewed them new Bakhilki* took
provision of bast-shoes with them, and set out. They
of their households accompanied them to the bounds
of the parish and there took leave of them, and the
old men went on their way.
Elisyei departed with a light heart, and the moment
he left the village forgot all about his affairs. His
only thought was how to please his comrade on the
road, how to avoid saying any sort of rude word, how
to go in peace and love from place to place, and then
return home. So Elisyei went on his way, and all
the while he would never cease quietly murmuring
prayers to himself, or calling to memory all the deeds
of his life so far as he could recollect them. And if
he fell in with any man by the way, or put up with
anyone for the night, he would demean himself right
* The half-boots to cover the top of the foot, worn by the Russian
peasantry.
I6 7
Tales from Tolstoi
courteously to all, doing his best to please them,
rejoicing always. One thing Elisyei could not do.
He would have liked to leave off snuffing, and had
left his snuff-box at home, but time hung heavily on
his hands. On the way he now and then met a man
who gave him snuff. And now and then he fell
behind his comrade so as not to lead him into tempta-
tion, and snuffed on the sly.
Efim Tarasuich went along, firm in his good resolve
to do no wrong, and speak no evil word. But care
for things at home would not get out of his head. He
kept thinking of everything that was going on at
home. Had he forgotten to tell his son something,
and had his son done what he had told him? If on
his journey he saw them sowing potatoes or carrying
loads, he would think : I wonder whether my son is
doing such things as I told him. He would very
much have liked to return home, and directed and
done everything himself.
III.
The old men went on for five weeks. Their home-
made bast-shoes were worn out, they wanted to buy
new ones ; and so they came to the khokli* They
were far from home, and had to pay for their food
and night-lodging ; but when they came to the khokli,
the people vied with each other in inviting them into
their houses. They made them come in, and gave
* The men with big tufts of hair, a nickname given to the little
Russians or Ruthenians.
1 68
Two Old Men
them meat and drink and took no money for it ; nay,
they gave them also provisions of bread in their
knapsacks, and even brought them bast-shoes. So
the old men went on for 700 versts, then they passed
through yet another government, and then they came
to waste places. The people let them pass through,
and gave them night-lodging, but ceased to provide
food. Even bread was not to be had everywhere,
not even for money sometimes. Last year, the people
said, nothing grew. The rich were ruined, and sold
off everything; those who were moderately well off
had nothing ; but the poor either perished altogether,
or wandered into the wide world, or eked out a
miserable existence at home. In the winter they ate
weeds and chaff.
Once the old men passed the night at a little place
where they bought 50 Ibs. of bread. They slept
there, and were up and away again by dawn in order
to avoid the heat as long as possible. They went for
ten versts and came to a little stream, sat down,
scooped up water in their cups, moistened their bread,
ate of it, and changed their shoes and stockings.
Then they sat them down again and rested awhile.
Elisyei took out his horn snuff-box. Enm Tarasuich
shook his head at him. " Why dost not throw away
such rubbish? "
Elisyei waved his hand in deprecation. "My sin
hath gained the upper hand," said he, " what can I
do?"
They rose and went on further. They went ten
versts further. They came to a large village and
went right through it. It began to be hot already.
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Tales from Tolstoi
Elisyei grew weary; he wanted to rest and have a
drink, but Tarasuich didn't stop. Tarasuich was a
stronger walker, and it became a little difficult for
Elisyei to keep up with him. *
" Shall we have a drink, eh ? " he asked.
" Drink if you like, but I don't want any."
'Elisyei stopped.
" Don't wait," said he. " I'll just skip into that hut
and have a mouthful I'll catch you up in a twink-
ling."
"All right," said the other, and so Efim went on.
Tarasuich continued his way alone, but Elisyei turned
into the hut
The hut was small, and painted black below and
white above, but the coat of paint was already
peeling off 'twas plain it had not had a fresh coat
of paint for a long time, and part of the roof
was open to the sky. The way into the hut was
by way of a courtyard. Elysei went through this
courtyard, and saw lying in the trench a haggard-
looking, beardless man, with his shirt inside his
hose, after the manner of the khokli.* The man
was plainly lying there for the sake of coolness, yet
the sun was shining right upon him. There he lay,
but he was not asleep. Elisyei called to him and
asked for a drink ; the man did not answer. Is it
sickness or rudeness? thought Elisyei, and he
approached the door. He heard in the hut the voices
of two children crying. Elisyei knocked with the
door-ring " Master ! " But there was no answer.
* The Russian peasant on the other hand wears his shirt over his hose.
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Two Old Men
He knocked again at the door with his little staff
" Christian men ! " Nobody stirred. " Servants of
God ! " There was no answer. Elisyei made up his
mind to go away again, when he heard from behind
the door a sound as of someone groaning.
What if there were something wrong with the
people? One ought to see. So Elisyei entered the
hut.
IV.
Elisyei turned the door-ring; the door was not
shut to. He shoved open the door, he went through
the little front shed. The door leading into the
dwelling-room was open. On the left was a stove ;
straight before him was the chief corner-seat ; in the
corner was an ikon and a table ; behind the table
was a bench, and on the bench, in nothing but a shift,
sat an old woman without a head-dress,* who was
resting her head upon the table, and by her side lay
a wretched-looking little child, as pale as wax, and
with a big swollen stomach. It held the old woman
by the sleeve, and was wailing loudly asking for
something. Elisyei stepped into the hut. In the hut
the atmosphere was oppressive. He looked about
him. Behind the stove lay a woman on the bare
stones. She lay on her back and' looked at nothing,
but only made a gurgling sound, and twitched con-
vulsively with her legs. ... It was plain there was
* An unheard-of thing among the Ruthenians, with whom only young
girls go bareheaded.
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Tales from Tolstoi
none to attend to her. The old woman raised her
head and saw the strange man.
"What is it?" she said. "What dost want? We
have nothing here, good sir ! "
Elisyei understood what she said (though she spoke
in Ruthenian), and went up to her.
" I am God's slave," said he. " I come for some-
thing to drink"
" There's no one to send for it. There's no one to
fetch it. Go and take it thyself ! "
And Elisyei fell to asking her questions. " Is there
no one hale enough among you to look after that
woman there ? "
" There's nobody ; the man is dying in the court-
yard out there, and we are all alone here."
The little boy had suddenly grown dumb when he
saw a stranger, but when the old woman began to
speak he fell to twitching her sleeve again. " Bread,
granny,* give me bread," and again he burst out
crying.
Just as Elisyei was about to ask the old woman all
about it, a man staggered into the room, made his
way towards the wall, and would have sat down on
the bench, but fell down and rolled upon the floor.
He did not even pick himself up, but tried to speak.
He stopped short at the first word, tried again,
panted for breath, and then uttered stray words
broken by panting.
" Illness," he said, " has come upon us, and hunger.
* The child speaks to the old woman in little Russian or Ruthenian,
the effect of which is lost in any English version.
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Two Old Men
He's dying of hunger," and the muzhik nodded his
head towards the little boy, and burst into tears.
Elisyei shook his shoulders loose from his knap-
sack, unfastened it with his hand, put his knapsack
on the bench, and began to undo it He undid it,
got out a loaf, a knife, cut off a big slice and gave it
to the muzhik. The muzhik would not take it. but
pointed at the little boy and at a little girl.
" Give to them, please," said he.
Elisyei gave of it to the lad. The little boy caught
sight of the bread, stretched himself out, seized the
morsel with both his poor little hands, and regularly
buried his nose in it. From behind the stove the
young girl crept out and asked for bread. Elisyei
gave her some too. Then he cut off another piece
and gave it to the old woman. The old woman took
it and began to chew.
" Bring some water," said she, " our mouths have
quite dried up. I would have fetched some yesterday,"
said she, " or was it the day before yesterday, I don't
quite remember which, but I wanted to fetch water.
I dragged myself out with an effort, but could not
manage it ; 1 drew up the water and then spilt it all,
and fell down myself. It was as much as I could do
to crawl back to the house, and there the bucket still
stands if nobody has taken it away." c.
Elisyei asked them where their well was. The old
woman explained. Elisyei went, found the bucket,
and gave the people to drink. The children ate some
more bread with their water, and the old woman ate
some too, but the muzhik did not eat. He had not
the heart for it, he said; the wife, however, did not
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Tales from Tolstoi
get up at all, and did not even come to herself, but
writhed about upon her bed. Elisyei went to the
village shop, and bought millet, salt, meal, butter ;
searched till he found an old axe, chopped wood, and
set the stove a-burning. The girl helped him a bit.
Elisyei boiled some soup and water-gruel, and fed
the people.
The muzhik ate a little, but not much, and the old
woman ate some ; the little boy and the little girl
licked out the whole basin, and, embracing each other,
went to sleep.
And the muzhik and the old woman began to tell
how all this had befallen them.
"Up to this time we have managed to live," said
they, " though poorly, but then the crops failed, and
since autumn we have eaten up all there was. We
ate up everything, and we began to beg of our neigh-
bours and of all good people. At first they gave,
but afterwards they refused to give. Those who were
willing to give had nothing themselves. Then, too,
we grew ashamed of asking any more, we owed
everyone something money, or grain, or bread. I
sought for work," said the muzhik, " and no work was
to be had. The people were fighting for work every-
where. One day you would have a little job to do
perhaps, and then you would be wandering about
two days more in search of another job. The old
woman and the little girl went long distances
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a-begging. The alms they got were wretched enough,
not everyone had even bread. We all fed ourselves
as best we could, thinking to struggle on till the spring
crops came up. But by spring-time everyone had
ceased to give, and sickness had fallen upon us here.
A miserable time it was for us all. For every day
we had a morsel we starved for two more. We began
to eat grass. Whether 'twas the grass, or something
else, I know not, but my wife now fell ill. My wife
took to her bed, and I too had no more strength left
in me," said the muzhik. " Nohow could we help
ourselves."
" Only I struggled on," said the old woman, " and
for want of food my strength ebbed away, and I grew
weaker and weaker. The little girl also grew weaker,
and began to be frightened. We wanted to send her
to our neighbour's, and she would not go. She
crouched down in a corner, and went not. Our dear
neighbour came towards evening, and saw that we
were sick and starving, she turned and went away.
Her own husband had gone away, and there was
nothing to feed the little children with. There they
lay and waited for death."
Elisyei listened to their words, and he doubted
whether he ought to try and overtake his comrade
that day, so he passed the night there. In the morn-
ing Elisyei got up and put his hand to all sorts of
work about the house, just as if he had been the
master there. He helped the old woman to knead
the bread, he heated the oven. He went with the
little girl to the neighbour's to get what was necessary.
There was nothing to be had, nothing at all, every-
Tales from Tolstoi
thing was eaten up ; there was no food and no clothes.
So Elisyei had to supply what was necessary ; he
gave them something of his own store and something
he bought. So Elisyei stayed there one day he
stayed there a second, he stayed there a third. The
little boy got well again ; he began to move along
the bench, and came and fondled Elisyei. But the
little girl got quite merry, and was able to turn her
hand to anything. They all quite haunted Elisyei,
and cried " Grandfather, dear old grandfather ! " The
old woman too was now on her feet again, and was
able to go to the neighbour's. The muzhik too
was able to grope along by the wall. Only the wife
still kept her bed, but she too, on the third day,
suddenly awoke and asked for something to eat.
" Well," thought Elisyei, " I never meant to idle
about so long, now I'll be off."
VI.
On the fourth day the rozgovyeni* began, and
Elisyei thought to himself, "Well, I'll keep the
rozgovyeni with these people. I'll buy them some-
thing or other for the feast, and in the evening I'll
be off."
Elisyei went again to the village, and bought milk,
white flour, and salt. Then there was a great baking
and boiling, and in the morning Elisyei went to mass,
and then he came and ate flesh with the good people.
* The first days after a fast, wnen flesh might be eaten.
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Two Old Men
On that day the wife also got up and began to roam
about. The muzhik shaved himself, put on a clean
shirt (the old woman had washed it), and went to the
village to a rich muzhik to beg mercy of him. His
meadow land and the corn land had been mortgaged
to this rich muzhik, and he went to beg him to give
back the land before the crops were ripe. Towards
evening the man returned, vexed and tearful. The
rich muzhik would have no mercy ; he said, " Bring
the money ! "
Elisyei fell a-thinking : " How will they be able to
live now? People are going out to reap now, but
they have nothing, for their crops are mortgaged.
The rye is ripening, people are preparing to gather
it in (and our mother earth has given bountifully),
but these have nothing to gather, their desyatin* is
sold to the rich muzhik. When I go away they'll be
just as wretched as ever." And Elisyei cudgelled his
brains about it, and did not go away that evening,
but put it off till the morrow. He went to sleep in
the barn. He said his prayers, laid down, and could
not close an eye. He ought to have gone, he had
already spent a lot of time and money there, but he
was sorry for the people. " You've not done all you
might," he thought, "you would give them a
drop of water and some crumbs of bread, but what's
the good of that? Now you should redeem their
field and crop. Redeem their field, buy a cow for
the children, and a cart to carry the muzhik's sheaves.
Verily, brother Elisyei Kuz'mich, thou art all at sea
* A piece of land of about 2,400 square fathoms.
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P
Tales from Tolstoi
with thyself, and thy anchor is drifting, and thou
canst find no bottom."
Elisyei arose, took up his kaftan from beneath his
head, turned it round, got out his snuff-horn, took
a pinch, and tried to think more clearly, but no
he thought and thought, and nothing at all came of
it He had to go, and he was sorry for the people.
But what to do he had no idea. He wrapped up his
kaftan, put it beneath his head, and lay down again.
There he lay and lay. The cocks already began to
crow, and he went right off to sleep. Suddenly it
was as though someone aroused him. He saw that
he was quite dressed, and with his knapsack and his
staff, and he had to go out of the door, but the door
was so disposed that a single person could scarcely
pass through it. He tried to go through, and the
door on one side hooked his knapsack. He would
have unhooked it, but then it laid hold of his rag
buskins on the other side, and the buskins all came
undone. He tried to tear himself loose, but then he
got entangled in the fence, and yet it was not the
fence but the little girl who held on to him and cried,
" Grandad, dear grandad, bread ! " He looked down
at his other foot, and there was the little boy holding
on to his other buskin, and the muzhik and his wife
were looking out of the window all the time. Elisyei
awoke, and found himself saying, " Yes, I'll redeem
it all, both field and crop, to-morrow. * I'll buy a horse
and I'll buy a cow for the children. Thou wouldst
seek the Christ across the sea, and yet thou losest
sight of the Christ that is within thee all the time.
One must put these people right" And Elisyei slept
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Two Old Men
on till morning. Elisyei awoke early. He went to
the rich muzhik and bought the crops from him, and
gave him money for the meadow as well. He bought
back the scythe (for that had been sold too), and
brought it home. He sent the muzhik to reap, and
he himself went about among the other muzhiks. He
found out a horse and cart at the innkeeper's for sale ;
after some haggling he bought them, and went to
buy a cow. Elisyei went along the street and over-
took two ragged-haired peasant women. The women
were chattering together, and Elisyei heard what they
said. One of the women was speaking about
him.
" First of all," said she, " they don't know what
manner of man he is ; they think he is a simple
pilgrim. He went there, they say, for a drink, and
has lived there ever since. He buys everything for
them, they say. I myself saw him to-day at the
innkeeper's buying a horse and cart. To think that
there really should be such people in the world; let
us go and see him."
Elisyei heard this, and understood that they were
praising him, and he did not go and buy the cow.
He turned in to the innkeeper and gave him the money
for the horse. He inspanned it, and went on to the
hut. He drove up to the door, stopped there, and dis-
mounted The people of the hut saw the horse, and
were astonished. They thought indeed that he had
bought the horse for them, but they dared not say so.
The master went out to open the door.
" So you've brought a nag along with you, grandad.
Whence didst get it? "
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Tales from Tolstoi
" I've bought it," said he. " I've got it cheap. Chop
up a little grass for him in the trough for the night,"
said he.
The master unyoked the horse, chopped up a little
grass, and put it in the trough. They lay down to
sleep. Elisyei laid him down in the courtyard whither
he had already taken his knapsack. All the people
were asleep. Then Elisyei arose, tied on his knap-
sack, tied on his boots, threw his kaftan over him,
and went on his way after Efim
VII.
Elisyei went along for five versts it began to dawn.
He sat down under a tree, undid his knapsack, and
began to count up his money. He counted it all over
and found that he had seventeen roubles and twenty
kopecks left.* "Well," thought he, "I shall never
make my way across the sea with this, and to beg the
money in Christ's Name would be a sin. Efim must
go on his way alone, and light a candle for me, and I
can work off my vow before I die. Yet, thank God,
the Master is merciful, and will bear with me."
Elisyei arose, fastened his knapsack to his shoulder,
and turned back, only he went a long circuit round the
village so that the people might not see him, and so
Elisyei soon got on his way. From home he had
found it hard, nay, oftentimes beyond his strength,
and it had been as much as he could do to drag him-
* Nearly 3.
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Two Old Men
self after Efim ; but towards home, with God's help,
it was so easy that he felt no weariness at all. On
he went right heartily, swinging his staff, and he went
at the rate of seventy versts a day.
Elisyei got home. They gathered about him in
the fields. Those at home rejoiced to see their old
man. They began to ask him questions, they asked
him this and that, why he had quitted his comrade,
why he had not gone the whole way, why he had
returned home. Elisyei did not satisfy them.
" It was not God's will," said he, " I lost my money
on the road, and parted from my comrade. That's
how I did not go. Forgive me, for Christ's sake."
And he gave his old woman the remainder of the
money. Elisyei asked about household affairs.
Everything was well, they had done all it behoved
them to do, there was no waste in the housekeeping,
and they had all lived in peace and harmony.
The same day those of Enm's household heard of
Elisyei's return, and they came to ask about their
old man. And to them also Elisyei said the same
thing.
" Your old man," said he, " fared a-field in good
health. We parted," said he, " three days before the
Feast of Peter, then I wanted to catch him up again,
but all sorts of things came in the way. Then I lost
my money and had nothing to go on with, so I turned
back."
The people were amazed. Such a wise man, and
to do such a stupid thing. He set out and never
arrived, but only lost his money! They wondered,
and forgot all about it. And Elisyei forgot about it
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Tales from Tolstoi
too. He set to work at home, helped his son to get
in a store of winter fuel, helped the women to thresh
the corn, thatched the barn, saw to the bees, gave
ten hives of bees, with the increment, to his neigh-
bour. His old woman would have concealed from
him how many swarms had flown out of the hives
that had been sold, but Elisyei 'himself knew which
had swarmed and which had not, and gave the neigh-
bour seventeen instead of ten hives. So Elisyei set
his house in order, and sent his son to seek work, but
he himself settled down for the winter to plait bast-
shoes and carve out lasts for the cobblers.
VIII.
The whole of that day, when Elisyei remained in
the hut with the sick people, Efim waited for his
companion. He went a little way on, and sat down.
He waited and waited, nodded a bit, woke again,
waited a little longer and his comrade never came.
He looked around him with all his eyes. The sun
had already gone behind the wood, and there was
no Elisyei.
" I wonder if he has passed me by," thought he,
" or ridden by on some wagon, and I never observed
it while I slept? But it was impossible not to have
seen him. In the steppe we can see for a long
distance. What's the good of going back," he thought,
" when he's coming forward. We might miss each
other, that would be worst of all. I'll go on, and
we shall meet at our night-quarters."
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Two Old Men
He came to the village, asked for the Desyatnik,*
and bade 'him if such and such an old man came
along that way, to bring him to the same hut. Elisyei
did not come to the night-quarters. Efim went on
further, and asked everyone if they had noticed a
bald-headed pilgrim. No one had seen him. Efim
was surprised, and went on alone.
" We shall meet somewhere or other," thought he,
" at Odessa, or in the ship," and he thought no more
about it.
He went on his road with a pilgrim. This traveller
was in a cape with a long cassock beneath it, and
long locks; he had been at Athos, and was going
to Jerusalem for the second time. They met at their
night-quarters, struck up an acquaintance, and went
on together.
They got to Odessa all right They waited for a
ship thrice twenty-four hours. Many pilgrims were
waiting: they came from various quarters. Again
Efim asked about Elisyei, but there was no word of
him.
The pilgrim told Efim how he might cross in the
ship without paying any money, but Efim Tarasuich
would not listen to him.
" I would rather give money," said he, " and I've
laid by for it too."
He gave forty tsyelkovikif for his passage there
and back, and bought bread and dried herring for
the journey. They loaded the vessel, took on board all
the pilgrims, and Tarasuich and the pilgrim went on
* The chic, man in a hamlet of ten families. * 10.
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Tales from Tolstoi
board too. They weighed anchor, left port, and sailed
forth upon the sea. All day they sailed prosperously,
but in the evening the wind arose and the rain came ;
the vessel began to rock and ship water. The people
were pitched to and fro, the women began to wail,
and the leader of the muzhiks began to run about the
ship to seek a place to lie upon. Fear overcame Efim
also, but he did not show it. As he had sat on his
arrival from the steppe, side by side with a pilgrim
from Tambov, so he continued to sit all night and
the whole of the next day ; all they did was to guard
their knapsacks in silence. On the third day it was
calm. On the fifth day they came to Tsar'grad.*
Those of the pilgrims who had landed went to see
the temple of the Divine Wisdom,t where the Turks
now held sway ; Tarasuich did not land, but remained
on the ship. They remained there twenty-four hours,
and then they again put to sea. They stopped again
at the town of Smyrna ; the next city they stopped
at was Alexandria, and so they arrived safely at the
town of Jaffa. At Jaffa all the pilgrims landed, and
they had seventy versts to go on foot to Jerusalem.
And fear again seized the people as they landed, for
the ship was lofty, and they threw the people down
into the little boat, and the boat rocked to and fro,
and didn't bear even looking at, but they had to go ;
one or two of the men got a ducking, but they were
all safely landed. They were landed, and continued
their journey on foot, and on the fourth day they
came to Jerusalem. They remained outside the
Constantinople. t Saint Sophia.
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Two Old Men
town in the Russian quarter, showed their passports,
had a little breakfast, and went with the pilgrims
about the holy places. To the very Sepulchre of
the Lord Himself they were not yet admitted. First
of all they went to early morning mass to the Monas-
tery of the Patriarch, and prayed there and offered
their votive candles. They looked from the outside
on the Church of the Resurrection, where was the
very tomb of the Lord.
On the first day they were only admitted into the
cell of St. Mary of Egypt, where she had fled for
refuge. They placed their votive candles and recited
their prayers. They wished to come to early mass
to the Sepulchre of the Lord, but came too late.
They went to the Monastery of Abraham ; they saw
the garden of Savek, the place where Abraham would
have sacrificed his son to God. Then they went to
the place where Christ appeared to St. Mary
Magdalene, and to the church of St. James, the Lord's
brother. The pilgrim showed them all these places,
and told them everywhere how much money they had
to pay, and where to place their candles. Again they
returned to the resting-place, and they had only just
laid them down to sleep when the pilgrim raised a
wail, and began to search all about his clothes.
" They have filched my purse," cried he, " with all
my money, twenty-three roubles two ten-rouble
notes, and three in small money."
The pilgrim fretted and fumed, but there was no
help for it, and they all laid them down to sleep.
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IX
Efim lay down to sleep, and a temptation fell upon
him. " They did not filch any money from the
pilgrim," thought he, " for surely he has none. He
never gave anything anywhere. He told me to offer
things, but gave nothing himself, and even borrowed
a rouble or two from me."
Thus thought Efim, and then he began to reproach
himself: "What," said he, "I judge this man! 'tis a
sin. I won't think so."
But no sooner did he try to forget than it again
occurred to him how the pilgrim was always eager
after money, and how improbable it was that anyone
could have filched his purse. And he never had any
money, he thought. 'Twas a mere excuse.
In the morning they got up and went to early mass
in the 'great Church of the Resurrection, to the
Sepulchre of the Lord. The pilgrim never quitted
Efim, but went with him everywhere. They came to
the church. There was no end of people there pious
foreign pilgrims, and Russians, and all nations
Greeks and Armenians, and Turks and Syrians.
Efim went to the holy gate with the people, passed
by the Turkish guard in the place where the Saviour
had been taken down from the cross and anointed,
and where the great nine-branched candlestick was
burning. Here Efim offered a candle. Then the
stranger-pilgrim took Efim by the right hand and led
him up the steps to Golgotha, to the place where the
cross had stood, and here Efim prayed. Then they
Two Old Men
showed Efim the hole where the earth had yawned
open, right down to the abyss, and after that they
showed him the place where they had nailed the
hands and feet of Christ to the cross ; then they
showed him the grave of Adam, where the blood of
Christ had trickled down upon his bones. After that
they went to the stone where Christ had sat
down when they put upon His head the crown of
thorns ; and then to the pillar to which they had tied
Christ when they scourged Him. Then Efim saw the
stone with the two holes for the feet of Christ. They
wanted to show some other things also, but the crowd
was in too much of a hurry to look at them, and they
all hastened away to the cave of the Sepulchre of the
Lord. The pilgrim hastened thither. The foreign
mass was just over, and the orthodox mass began.
Efim went with the people to the cave.
He wanted to get away from the pilgrim ; in
thought he kept on sinning against the pilgrim all
along, but the pilgrim would not leave him, but went
along with him to the mass and to the Sepulchre of
the Lord. They wanted to get nearer, but they
could not get nearer. There was such a crush of
people that they could move neither backwards
nor forwards. Efim stood looking in front of him
and praying, but it was of no use. Again he felt
himself to see if he still had his purse. Two thoughts
constantly worried him : " Had the pilgrim deceived
him, or had he not deceived him? And if his (the
pilgrim's) money had been stolen from him, mightn't
the same thing happen to Efim himself too? "
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X,
There stood Efim, praying and looking straight in
front of him into the chapel where was the very
Sepulchre, and above the Sepulchre burned thirty-six
lamps. There stood and looked Efim, when through
his head flashed the thought, " What wonder is this ? "
Beneath the very lamps, in front of them all, stood
an old pilgrim in a coarse cotton kaftan, and he had
a shining baldness all over his head, just like Elisyei
Bodrov. " 'Tis much like Elisyei," he thought ; " but
it cannot be he. He could not have arrived here
before me. Another ship does not follow us for a
whole week. He could not have come on so quickly,
and he was not in our ship. I saw all the pilgrims."
While Efim was thinking thus the old pilgrim
began to pray, and he bowed low three times ; first
he bowed before God, and then he bowed to the
orthodox worshippers on both sides of him. And
when the old man turned his head to the right, Efim
recognised him at once.
" 'Tis he, indeed, Bodrov ; his beard is blackish
and curly, and a little greyish on the tips of the
whiskers. And the brows, and the eyes, and the nose
all the features are his. It is Elisyei Bodrov's
very self."
Efim rejoiced that his comrade had come, and
marvelled how Elisyei could have got there before
him.
" Ah, Bodrov must have crept through somehow :
he must have fallen in with some man who showed
1 88
him the way. When we get out I'll meet him. I'll
throw over my pilgrim, and will go with him, although
he did slip on before me."
And Efim kept good watch lest Elisyei should
escape him. And now the mass was over, and the
people began to move ; they went forward to kiss
the cross, there was a press and a throng, they came
in the direction of Efim. Again a terror fell upon him
lest they should filch his purse. Efim clasped his
purse tightly in his hand, and began to force his way
through the crowd so that he might get outside. He
got outside, and went and went, and sought and
sought for Elisyei, and he went right out of the church,
and yet he did not meet him. After service Efim
went also to seek Elisyei in the lodging-places of
the town ; he went everywhere, and found him no-
where ! That evening the pilgrim also did not appear.
He vanished without paying his rouble. Efim re-
mained quite alone.
Next day Efim again went to the Sepulchre of the
Lord with the old pilgrim from Tambov by whom he
had sat on the ship. He wanted to get well in front,
but again he was jostled aside, so he stood beside a
pillar and prayed. Again he looked in front of him
and again, under the lamps, at the very Sepulchre
of the Lord, stood Elisyei in his former place, with
his hands folded like a priest at the altar, and his
baldness shone over his whole head. " Now," thought
Efim, " now I'll not lose him." He began to push
his way to the front. He pushed his way right up ;
and there was no Elisyei. He had evidently gone.
And on the third day Efim again went to the mass
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Tales from Tolstoi
to look out again : in the selfsame place stands Elisyei,
in the same shape, with hands folded and uplifted
glance, as if he were looking at something above him.
And his baldness lighted up his whole head.
" Well," thought Efim, " now I really will not lose
sight of him. I will go and stand at the entrance.
There he cannot escape me."
So Efim went out, and stood and stood, and all
the people passed out ; and there was no Elisyei.
Efim remained six weeks in Jerusalem, and went
everywhere to Bethlehem, to Bethany, to Jordan ;
and on a new shirt he bought he had a seal impressed
ait the Sepulchre of the Lord, and in that shirt he
meant to be buried; and he took water from the
Jordan in a flask, and he took earth, and a candle
from the holy place, and spent all his money, save
only so much as might take him home ; and Efim
went back home. He came to Jaffa, went on board
ship, sailed to Odessa, and set off home on foot.
XI.
Efim went all alone on that journey. He began
to draw near to home, and again doubt befell him
how they had been living without him.
"In a >ear," thought he, "a lot of water flows
away. It takes a whole age to make a home, but to
destroy a home does not take very long. How had
his son managed things during his absence, how had
the spring sowing been managed, how had the cattle
weathered the winter: had they repaired the hut?"
Efim arrived at the place where he had parted from
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Two Old Men
Elisyei the year before. He could scarcely recognise
the people. Where last year the people had been
poor and needy, they now lived in plenty. The fruits
of the earth had prospered. The people had righted
themselves, and forgot their former distress. Twas
eventide when Efim thus got to the place where, the
year before, Elisyei had stopped. No sooner had he
entered the village than out of a hut sprang a little
girl in a white chemise.
" Grandad, little grandad, come in to us."
Efim would have gone on, but the little girl wouldn't
let him, but took him by the lappet of his coat and
drew him into the hut, laughing all the while.
Out upon the balcony came a woman with a little
child, she too beckoned with her hand, " Come in,
pray, dear little grandad, and have a little supper with
us aye, and pass the night."
Efim followed her. " A good opportunity to ask
about Elisyei," thought he : " was it not to this
selfsame hut he went to ask for a drink of water ? "
Efim went in, the woman took his knapsack from
him, gave him water to wash with, and a chair to sit
upon. She brought him milk, dumplings, meal broth,
and placed them on the table. Tarasuich thanked
her, and praised the people for showing hospitality
to pilgrims
The woman shook her head. " How can we help
receiving pilgrims?" said she. "We owe our life to
a pilgrim. We lived once and forgot God, and God
chastened us with dire need, even unto starvation.
By the summer things had come to such a pass that
here we all lay on our backs ill, and with naught
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to eat. And we should have died had not God sent
unto us a pilgrim like unto thee. He came amongst
us for a drink of water, and he saw us, had com-
passion upon us, and stayed among us. And he gave
us meat and drink, and set us on our feet, and
redeemed our land, and bought us a horse and a cart,
and threw away his money upon us."
An old woman came into the hut and interrupted
the discourse of the other woman.
"And we don't know," said she, "whether he was
a man or an angel of God's. He loved us all, he
had compassion on us all, and he went away without
saying a word, and we know not for whom to pray
God. I can see it all before me now. There I lie
and await death. I look up, and in comes the old
pilgrim, so plain and simple-like, and baldish too, to
ask for a drink of water. And I, sinful woman, fell
a-thinking : ' What vagabond is this then ? ' And
look now what he did for us. No sooner did he see
us than down came his knapsack, and he goes and
puts it down there, and unties it."
The little girl then came in. " No, granny," said
she, " first of all he placed his knapsack right in the
middle of the room here, and then he put it on the
bench."
And they all began to dispute among themselves,
and everyone remembered all about his words and
deeds and movements, and where he sat, and where
he slept, and what he did, and what he said to each.
At nightfall the peasant-proprietor arrived behind
his horses, and he too began to speak about Elisyei,
and how he had Jived with them.
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Two Old Men
" If he had not come to us," said he, " we should
all have died in our sins. We should have died in
despair, cursing God and all men. And he put ois
on our legs again, and through him we learnt to know
God, and believe in good people. Christ save him !
We lived like cattle before, he made us men."
The people gave Efim to eat and to drink, then
gave him a bed, and laid down to sleep themselves.
Efim lay down, but he did not sleep ; he could not
get Elisyei out of his head : Elisyei, just as he had
seen him thrice at Jerusalem in the foremost place.
" There he was," thought he, " and he got there
before me. I took no end of trouble upon myself,
but God took him."
In the morning the people bade Efim God-speed!
loaded him with pasties for his journey, and went to
work ; and Efim went on his way.
XII.
After exactly a year Efim arrived. He returned
home in the spring.
He got home in the evening. His son was not at
home, he was in the pot-house. The son came home
a little tipsy, and Eftm began to question him. Efim
saw that in his absence his son had made a mess of
everything. He had spent all the money like a fool,
and had neglected all business. The father began
to reproach him. The son began to be rude and
saucy.
" You went to kick up your heels," said he, " and
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Tales from Tolstoi
went off for your pleasure, and took all the money
with you, and now you begin to cross-question me ! "
,The old man was angry. He struck his son.
Next morning Efim Tarasuich went to the starosta
to report himself ; he passed by Elisyei's farm.
Elisyei's old woman was standing on the balcony
they exchanged greetings.
" Is it well with thee, cousin ? " said she, " hast thou
returned in health, dear house - swallow ?"
Efim Tarasuich stopped. " Thank God," said he,
" I ihave returned in safety. I lost thy old .man on
the way, but they tell me he has returned home."
The old woman began to talk, she dearly loved a
gossip.
" Our bread-winner has returned," she said, " he
returned long ago. Soon after the Assumption he
returned, and glad were we that God brought him
back. We were so anxious about him. Work indeed,
he can do no more ; his working days are over, but he
has always got a head upon his shoulders, and it is
ever so much merrier at home when he is there. And
our lad there, how glad he was ! ' Without him,' said
he, ' it is as though there was no light in one's eyes.'
It is dull with us without him, and miserable. How
we missed the darling ! "
" Say, is he at home now ? "
" He is at home amongst his hives. He is hiving
his bees. He has got some fine swarms, I can tell
you. God has given such vigour to his bees that the
old man does not remember the like of it. God gives
us more than our merits deserve, he says. Go and
see him, and right glad will he be."
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Two Old Men
Efim went through the barn, through the gate, to
the hives of Elisyei. He went up to the bee-hives
to see, and there stood Elisyei, without a net, without
gloves, in a grey kaftan, beneath a young birch-tree.
He was extending his hands and looking upwards,
and his baldness shone over his whole head, just as
he had stood in Jerusalem at the Sepulchre of the
Lord ; and above him, as at Jerusalem, through the
birch-trees, like fire that burns, played the sun, and
around his head the golden bees circled in swarms
like an aureola, and lit upon him without hurting him.
Efim stood still.
Elisyei's old woman called to her husband : " Our
cousin has come," said she.
Elisyei looked around, and was glad, went to meet
his neighbour, and gently stroked a bee out of his
beard.
" Health to thee, neighbour ; health, dear soul.
Didst thou reach thy goal?"
" My feet did indeed get thither, and I have brought
thee a little water from the Jordan but whether
God has accepted my offering "
" Now glory to God ! Lord and Christ be praised
that we have thee back ! "
Then Efim was silent for a time.
" My feet were indeed there," he resumed, " but
whether my spirit was there, or rather the spirit of
another "
" That's God's business, neighbour, God's business.''
" On my return journey I looked in at the hut where
you stayed."
Elisyei was frightened and embarrassed. " God's
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Tales from Tolstoi
work, neighbour, God's work. Come into my hut
for a bit, and I'll give you a little honey."
And Elisyei changed the conversation, and spoke
of home affairs.
Efim sighed, and no longer reminded Elisyei of
the people in that hut, and told him not how he had
seen him at Jerusalem. But this one thing he now
understood: it is the will of God that everyone here
below should work off his debt of sin by love and good
works.
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WHAT MEN LIVE BY.
" We know that we have passed from death to life, because we love
the brethren He who says he loves God and loves not
his brother is a liar, for whosoever loves not his brother whom he has
seen, how can he love God Whom he has not seen?" I Epistle St.
John iii. 14 iv. 20.
A COBBLER, with his wife and children, once lodged
at a muzhik's. He had neither house nor land of his
own, and he supported himself and his family by his
cobbling. Bread was dear, and work cheap ; and
what he made by work went in food. The cobbler
and his wife had one fur pelisse between them, and
that was falling into rags, and in the second year
the cobbler resolved to buy a sheep-skin by way of
a new pelisse.
By the autumn the cobbler had got together a little
money ; three paper roubles lay in his old woman's
coffer, and besides that there were five roubles twenty-
five kopecks due from the muzhiks in the village.
And in the morning the cobbler got him ready to
go to the village for his sheep-skin. He put on over
his shirt his wadding jacket, which his old woman
* Translated from the Moscow popular edition of i88S.
I 9 7
Tales from Tolstoi
had made for him not long before, and above that his
lined kaftan ; put his three-rouble note in his pocket,
cut himself a stick, and went after breakfast. He
thought to himself : " I shall get my five roubles from
the muzhiks, I'll add these three to them, and I'll buy
a sheep-skin for a fur pelisse."
The cobbler went into the village and stopped at
one of the muzhiks ; he was not at home. His old
woman promised to send her husband to him with the
money in a week. He went on to another. This
muzhik took God to witness that he had no money.
He only gave him twenty kopecks for the patching
of his boots. The cobbler thought of getting the
sheep-skin on credit, but the sheepskin-dealer would
not let him have it on credit.
" Bring the money," said he, " and then take what
you like. We know how debts mount up."
So the cobbler did no business that day. He only
got twenty kopecks for botching boots, and a pair
of old leather soles to patch up again from the
muzhik.
The cobbler was sore distressed. He drank away
\he whole of the twenty kopecks in brandy, and set
off home without his pelisse. The cobbler went on
his way, with one hand striking at the frozen snow-
clods with his little stick, and swinging the boots by
the laces with the other hand. And as he went along,
he thus communed with himself:
" I'm warm without a pelisse," said he, " I've drunk
a thimbleful and it skips about through all my veins.
And a sheep-skin is not necessary after all. Here I
go along and forget all my care. That's the sort of
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What Men Live by
chap I am. What do I care ? I can get along without
a sheep-skin. I shall never want one. There's one
thing though my old woman will fret about it.
She'll say : ' Tis a shame, you work for him and he
leads you by the nose.' Wait a bit, that's all ! If you
don't bring me my money, I'll take the very cap from
your head, by God I will ! What sort of pay is this ?
He palms off a couple of griveniki upon me !
What's a man to do with a couple of griveniki?
Drink it up, and be done with it. ' I'm hard up,'
says he. You're hard up, are you, and don't you sup-
pose that I am hard up too? You have a house
and cattle and everything else, and all 7 have is on
my back ! You make your own bread, I have to buy
mine. Get it from whence I can, but three roubles I
must find to spend in bread every week. I go home
and all the bread has gone. Again I must lay out a
rouble-and-a-half. Then why cannot you give me my
due?"
Thus the cobbler went on till he came to the
chapel at the corner. He looked, and close up by
the chapel something was glistening white. It was
just then beginning to be dusky. The cobbler
looked at it more narrowly, but could not make out
what it was.
" There's no such stone as that here ! " thought he.
" Cattle, perhaps ? But it's not like cattle either. It
has got a head like a man. It's something white or
other. But what should a man be doing here?"
He drew nearer. It was now quite visible. What
marvel was this? It was indeed a man sitting there
quite naked. Who shall say whether he was alive or
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Tales from Tolstoi
dead? He was leaning against the :hapel, and didn't
move. The cobbler felt queer. He said to himself :
" They have killed some man, rifled his pockets, and
pitched him out here. You go on, and don't mix
yourself up with it ! "
So the cobbler went on. He got level with the
chapel and the man was no longer to be seen. He
passed by the chapel and looked round ; there was
the man leaning forward from the chapel wall, and
he moved a little as if he were looking towards the
cobbler. The cobbler grew still more afraid, and he
thought to himself : " Shall I go up to him or shall
I pass by ? Go to him, indeed ! Some evil may come
of it! Who knows who and what he is? No good
errand has brought him hither, I know ! Perchance
he'll leap at me, and throttle me, and 1 do for me. And
even if he doesn't, what can I do with a naked man ?
I can't give him the very last rags off my own back,
I suppose ? God be my aid while I pass by him, that's
all!"
And the cobbler quickened his pace. He was
already passing by the chapel when his conscience
began to nip him. And the cobbler stood still in the
middle of the road.
" What ails the man ? " said he to himself. " What
doest thou, Simon? Here's a man dying in misery
and thou takest fright and dost pass him by? Hast
thou grown rich, forsooth? Dost thou fear they'll
steal thy treasures? Come, come, Simon, this won't
do!"
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What Men Live by
II.
Simon goes up to the man, looks carefully at him and
perceives that the man is young and robust, with no
bruises on his body ; but it was plain that the man
was half frozen and full of fear there he sat, leaning
against the wall, and did not even look at Simon, as
if he were too weak to raise his eyes. Simon went
close up to him, and, suddenly, as if the man had
only just awoke, he turned his head, opened his eyes,
and looked at Simon. This look quite endeared the
man to Simon. He threw the boot-soles to the
ground, ungirded himself, placed his girdle on the
boots, and drew off his kaftan.
" Can you talk a bit ? " said he. " Never mind !
Come, put this on ! "
Simon took the man by the elbow and helped to
lift him up. The man got up, and Simon saw that
his body was slender and clean, that his hands and
feet had no bruises upon them, and his face was
pleasant to look upon. Simon threw his kaftan over
the man's shoulders, but the man could not manage
the sleeves. So Simon put his hands right for him,
stroked down and buttoned up the kaftan, and girded
it with the girdle.
Simon also tore his tattered cap from his head to
put it on the bare head of the man, but his own head
went quite cold, and he thought to himself : " I am
bald all over my head, but he has long locks all down
his temples," and he put on his hat again. " Twere
better if I bound on him my boots."
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Tales from Tolstoi
So he made him sit down, and tied his own boots
on to the man's feet.
Thus the cobbler dressed him, and said : " There
thou art, brother ! Come now, try and move about a
bit and warm thyself. Thou wilt feel all right pres-
ently. Dost think thou canst walk by thyself ? "
The man stood up, looked kindly at Simon, but
could not speak a word.
" Why dost thou not speak ? We cannot pass all
the winter here. We must seek some dwelling-place.
Look here now ! Here's my oaken staff ! Lean upon
it if thou dost feel weak. Off we go ! "
So the man set off. He walked easily, and was
never behind.
They went along the road, and Simon said,
" Whence art thou, pray ? "
" I am not of this place."
" So I see, for I know all those that dwell here.
But how then didst thou come to be by the chapel ? "
" I may not tell thee."
" I suppose the people here ill-treated thee? "
" Nobody hath ill-treated, but God hath punished
me."
"Yes, indeed God is over all, and everywhere His
hand is upon us. But whither wouldst thou go ? "
"'Tis all one to me."
Simon was amazed. The man was soft of speech,
and not like a rogue, and yet he would give no account
of himself ; and Simon thought : " One little knows
what sort of things go on in this world."
And he said to the man : " Look now, come to my
house and warm thyself up a bit."
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What Men Live by
So Simon went on, and the stranger never left him,
but kept alongside of him. The wind arose and
found its way beneath Simon's shirt ; the drink
he had taken was now pretty well out of him, and he
began to feel freezing cold. On he went, snuffling
loudly and wrapping his old woman's jacket more
closely around him, and he thought to himself :
" That's what thy sheep-skin has brought thee to.
Thou didst go for a pelisse, and dost return even
without a kaftan, and dost bring a naked man home
with thee to boot. Thy Matrena will not bless thee
for it ! "
And the moment he fell to thinking of Matrena,
he grew uncomfortable. But when he looked at the
stranger he bethought him of how the man had looked
at him at the chapel, and his heart leaped up within
him.
III.
Simon's wife was up early. She chopped up the
firewood, brought the water, fed the children, took a
bit herself, and began to think : " When shall I make
the bread, now or to-morrow ? " A big slice still
remained.
" If Simon has had something to eat down yonder,"
she thought, " and doesn't eat much for supper, there
will be enough bread to go on with till to-morrow."
Matrena kept turning the piece of bread round and
round, and she thought : " I won't make the bread
now. There's only enough meal left for one loaf.
We can manage to get along till Friday."
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Tales from Tolstoi
Matrena put away the bread, and sat down at the
table to sew a patch on to her husband's shirt. She
sewed and sewed, and all the time she thought of her
husband, and how he had gone to buy a sheep-skin
for a pelisse.
" I hope the sheepskin-seller won't cheat him, for
my old man really is very simple. He cheats nobody
himself, and a little child might lead him by the nose.
Eight roubles. That is no small amount of money.
One should get a good pelisse for that. If not of
the very best quality, at least a pelisse of some sort.
I went through last winter as best I could without a
pelisse. I could go nowhither, not even to the brook.
And lo now! he has left the house, and has put on
every stitch we have. I have nothing to put on at
all. He's a long time coming. 'Tis time he was
here now. I hope my little falcon has not gone astray
somewhere."
While Matrena was still thinking these thoughts,
there was a scraping on the staircase steps ; some-
body was coming in. Matrena stuck her needle into
her work, and went out into the passage. She looked.
Two were coming Simon, and with him some sort
of a man without a cap, and in felt boots.
All at once Matrena noticed the breath of her
husband. " Yes, that's it," she thought, " he's been
on the drink." And when she perceived that he was
without his kaftan, in his jacket alone, and carried
nothing in his hand, and was silent, but pulled a wry
face, Matrena's heart was hot within her. " He has
drunk away the money," she thought ; " he has been
wandering about with some vagabond or other, and
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What Men Live by
has gone the length of bringing him home with
him."
Matrena let them go into the room, and came in
herself also. She perceived that the man was a
stranger young, haggard, the kaftan he had on was
theirs, hat he had none. He stood on the spot where
he had first come in, neither moving nor raising his
eyes. And Matrena thought : " He is not a good
man, for he is afraid."
Matrena wrinkled her brows, went up to the stove,
and looked on to see what they would do next.
Simon took off his hat and sat down on the bench
as if all were well.
" Well, Matrena ! " said he, " give us some supper,
come ! "
Matrena grumbled to herself, but kept standing by
the stove as if she never meant to move from it. First
she looked at the one, and then she looked at the
other, but she only shook her head. Simon saw that
his old woman was not herself, but what was to be
done? He pretended to notice nothing, and took the
stranger by the arm.
" Sit down, brother ! " said he, " and we'll have some
supper."
The stranger sat down on the bench.
" Come now, have you cooked anything? "
Matrena grew wrath.
" Cooked I have, but not for you. I see you have
drunk your senses away. You went for a pelisse and
have come back without a kaftan, and have brought
back some naked ragamuffin with you into the bar-
gain. I have no supper to give a pair of drunkards."
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Tales from Tolstoi
" Let be, Matrena ! Your tongue wags apace.
First you should ask what manner of man it is."
" 'Tis you who should say what you have done with
your money."
Simon fumbled in his kaftan, drew out the notes
and unrolled them.
" The money there it is, but Trofimov has given
me nothing, he said he would do so to-morrow."
Still angrier grew Matrena. He had not bought
a pelisse, and he had given his last kaftan to some
naked rascal, and even brought him home with him.
She took the paper money from the table, stowed
it away about her person, and said:
"You'll get no supper from me. You can't afford
to feed all the naked drunkards who run against you."
" Ah ! Matrena, put a gag upon your tongue.
Listen first of all to what people say to you."
" What ! listen to reason from a drunken fool ! Not
in vain did I refuse to be your wife at first, you sot,
you ! My mother gave me lots of linen, you drank it
away. You went to buy a pelisse you drank that
away too."
Simon wanted to explain to his wife that he had
only drunk twenty kopecks' worth ; he wanted to say
how he had fallen in with the man ; but Matrena
didn't give him the chance of speaking a word or
finding an answer, she spoke two words to his one.
She even brought up against him again what had
happened ten years before.
Matrena talked and talked, and then she made a
dab at Simon and caught him by the sleeve.
" Give hither my jacket ! That is all I have left,
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What Men Live by
and you've taken it from me and put it on your own
back. Give it hither, you tow-stuffed cur! May the
apoplexy seize you ! "
Simon drew off the jacket and turned one of the
sleeves the wrong side out. His old woman tugged at
it, and almost tore it asunder at the seams. Matrena
snatched up the jacket, threw it over her head, and
made for the door. She would have gone out, but
stopped short, and her heart was sore within her. She
was bubbling over with evil unspoken, and she wanted
to know besides who this strange man was.
IV.
Matrena stood still, and said, " If he were a good
man he would not be naked like that. Why, he
hasn't even got a shirt to his back. And if you had
been about any honest business, you would have said
where you picked up such a fine fellow ! "
" I'll tell you then. I was going along. I passed
by the chapel, and there sat this man, all naked and
frozen. Tis not summer-time now, that a man should
go about naked. Would he not have perished if God
had not brought me to him? What was to be done
now? Was it such a small matter to leave him? I
took him, clothed him, and brought him hither. Let
your heart be at ease then. 'Tis a sin, Matrena.
We shall die one day."
Matrena would have liked to have scolded, but she
looked at the stranger and was silent The stranger
was sitting down, but he didn't move. He was sitting
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Tales from Tolstoi
on the very edge of the bench. His arms were
clasped together on his knees, his head had sunk
down upon his breast ; he did not open his eyes, and
his face was all in folds and wrinkles, as if something
was suffocating him, and then Simon spoke :
" Matrena ! is there nothing of God within you ? "
Matrena heard this sentence, looked again at the
stranger, and suddenly her heart was moved. She
left the door, went to the corner where the stove
was and got some supper. She put a cup on the
table, poured out some kvas* brought forth their last
morsel of bread. Then she put down a knife and
two spoons.
" Will you taste of our bread? " said she.
Simon nudged the stranger.
" Come nearer, good youth ! " said he.
Simon cut the bread, crumbled it, and fell to sup-
ping. But Matrena sat at the corner of the table,
rested her head on her elbows, and regarded the
stranger.
And Matrena felt sorry for the stranger, and began
to like him. And suddenly the stranger grew more
cheerful. He ceased to wrinkle his face, he raised
his eyes towards Matrena, and smiled.
They finished supping ; the old woman cleared
away, and began to question the stranger :
" Whence do you come ? "
" I am not of this place."
" Then how came you along this road?'*
" I cannot say."
* A drink made of rye meal and malt.
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What Men Live by
" Has any man robbed you ? '*
" God has punished me."
" And you were lying naked like that? "
" I was lying naked like that, and freezing. Simon
saw and had compassion upon me, he took off
his kaftan, clothed me with it, and bade me come
hither. And here you have had pity upon me, and
given me to eat and drink. The Lord requite you! "
Matrena rose up, took from the window Simon's old
shirt, the selfsame shirt she had mended, and gave
it to the stranger. She also hunted up some hose,
and these she gave him likewise.
" There you are, take them ! I see you have no
shirt. Put them on, and lie down where you like ;
on the bench or on the stove."
The stranger took the kaftan, put on the shirt and
hose, and lay down on the bench. Matrena put out
the light, took the kaftan and went to her husband.
Matrena covered herself with the ends of the kaftan,
lay down, but could not sleep ; she could not get the
stranger out of her thoughts at all. When she
reflected that he had eaten up their last bit of bread,
and there was no bread for the morrow, and that she
had given away the shirt and the hose, she was very
vexed ; then she recollected how he had smiled, and
her heart went forth to him.
For a long time Matrena could not sleep, but lay
listening. Simon also could not sleep, and drew his
kaftan over him.
"Simon!"-
"Eh?"
" We have eaten our last bit of bread. I have made
209
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Tales from Tolstoi
no more. I know not how it will be to-morrow.
I'll beg a little from our neighbour, Malania."
" We shall live and be satisfied."
The old woman lay back and was silent
" The man is a good man, that's clear, only why
is he so close about himself? "
"Perhaps he has to be?"
"Why?"
"Ah!"
" We give him what we have, but why does nobody
give to us? "
Simon knew not what to say. " Leave off talking ! "
he said. Then he turned him round and went to
sleep.
V.
In the morning Simon awoke. The children were
asleep, his wife had gone to the neighbours to seek
for bread. Only the stranger of the evening before,
in the old hoSe and the shirt, was sitting on the
bench and looking upwards. And his face was even
brighter than the evening before, and Simon said :
" Look now, dear heart, the belly begs for bread
and the naked body for raiment. One must feed
and live. What trade do you know? "
" I know nothing."
Simon was amazed, and he said,
" Where there's a will folks can learn anything."
" People work, and I will work too."
"What do they call you?"
" Michael"
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What Men Live by
"Well, Michael, you won't tell us anything about
yourself, and that's your business, but one must eat.
Work as I tell you and I'll feed you."
" The Lord preserve you. I will learn. Show me
what to do."
Simon took a piece of tarred thread, put it round
his fingers, and began to twist the ends of it.
Michael looked on, took it in his fingers and began
to twist the ends of it in the same way. Then Simon
showed him how to weld leather, and Michael under-
stood it at once. Then his host showed him how to
sew pieces of leather together, and how to clip them
straight, and this also Michael understood at once.
And whatever work Simon showed him he under-
stood it immediately, and after three days he worked
as if he had been at it all his life. He worked with-
out blundering and ate but little. He worked with-
out a break, kept silence and always looked upwards.
He never went out in the street, never spoke a word
too much, and neither laughed or jested
They had only seen him smile once, and that was
on the first evening when the old woman had made
ready some supper for him.
VI,
Day by day, week by week, the year went round.
Michael lived as before at Simon's and worked. And
the fame of Simon's workman went forth, and they
said that nobody could sew boots together so cleanly
and so strongly as Simon's workman Michael. They
Tales from Tolstoi
began to come to Simon for boots from the whole
country side, and Simon began to increase and do well.
One day, in the winter-time, Simon and Michael
were sitting working together, when a troika* with
all its bells ringing, dashed up to the hut. They
looked out of the window ; the sledge stopped in
front of the hut ; a young man leaped down from the
seat, and opened the door of the sledge. Out of the
sledge stepped a gentleman wrapped up in a pelisse.
He got out of the sledge and went up to Simon's
house, and mounted the staircase. Matrena darted
out and threw the door wide open. The gentleman
bowed and entered the hut. When he stood upright
his head very nearly touched the ceiling, and his
body took up a whole corner of the hut.
Simon stood up and bowed deeply. He was much
surprised to see the gentleman there. He was not
in the habit of seeing such people. Now Simon was
quite gaunt and Michael was thin and haggard, and
Matrena was like a dried chip ; but this person was
like a man from quite another world ; his snoutf was
sappy and rosy, his neck like a bull's, his whole frame
as if of cast iron.
The gentleman breathed hard, took off his furs,
sat down on the bench, and said : " Who's the master
here?"
Simon stepped forward and said : " I, your honour."
The gentleman shouted to his lad : " Fed'ka, bring
the traps hither ! " ,
The lad came running in with a bundle. The
* A carriage or sledge drawn by threa horses.
1's sno
212
t Morda, an animal's snout, not nos' a nose,
What Men Live by
gentleman took the bundle and placed it on the table.
" Undo it ! " said he. The lad undid it.
The gentleman tapped the goods with the tips of
his fingers, and said to Simon-. "Hark ye, cobbler!
do you see these goods?"
" I see them, your excellency ! " said Simon.
" Can you tell what sort of wares these are ? "
Simon felt the wares a bit and said, " Good stuff ! "
" Good ! I should rather think so ! Why, you fool,
you've never seen such wares in your life before.
German goods at twenty roubles."
Simon was a little taken aback at this, so he said :
" We are not in the way of seeing such things."
" Of course you're not. Now, can you make me
a pair of boots out of this leather ? "
" I can, your honour ! "
The gentleman raised his voice at him. " You can,
can you ? Understand clearly what you are going to
stitch, and what sort of leather you are working on.
You must stitch me a pair of boots which will last me
the whole year round, and will neither shrivel nor
rot. If you can do this, take the leather and cut it
up ; if you can't, don't take the leather, and don't cut
it up. I tell you beforehand, if the boots wear out
or shrink up before the year is out, I'll clap you in
gaol ; but if they don't shrink up and don't wear out
within the year, I'll give you ten roubles for your
work."
Simon was a bit afraid and didn't know what to
say. He glanced at Michael, nudged him with his
elbow, and whispered to him:, "What think you,
brother?"
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Tales from Tolsto!
Michael nodded his head : " Take the work by all
means."
Simon listened to Michael He undertook to make
boots that would neither rot nor shrink. The gentle-
man called to his lad, and ordered him to take his
boot off his left leg ; then he held out his foot and
said : " Take my measure ! "
Simon sewed together a piece of paper about ten
versJioks* long, had a good look at the gentleman's
foot, went down on his knees, wiped his hands
neatly on his apron so as not to soil the gentlemanly
stockings, and began to take measures. He took the
measure of the sole, he took the measure of the instep,
he began to measure the calf, but the piece of measur-
ing paper would not do. The leg was very big in the
calf, just like a thick beam.
" Take care you don't pinch me in the shins ! " said
the gentleman.
Simon took yet another piece of paper to measure
with. The gentleman sat down, twiddled his toes
about in his stockings, looked round at the people
in the hut and perceived Michael.
" Who's that you've got there ? "
" That is my apprentice. It is he who will stitch
the boots."
" Look now ! " said the gentleman to Michael, " be
careful how you stitch! The boots must last the
whole year round." Simon also looked at Michael
and saw that Michael was not looking at the gentle-
man, but was staring at the corner behind the gentle-
* A versbok is the sixteenth part of a Russian ell.
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What Men Live by
man as if he saw someone there. Michael kept on
looking and looking, and all at once he smiled, and
his face grew quite bright.
" What are you showing your teeth for, you fool ?
You had much better see that the things are ready in
time ! " said the gentleman.
An,3 Michael said : " They'll be quite ready when
they're wanted."
" Very well."
The gentleman put on his boot and his pelisse,
sniffed a bit and went towards the door. But he
forgot to bow, so he hit his head against the ceiling.
The gentleman cursed, rubbed his forehead, sat him
down in his sledge, and drove off.
So the gentleman went away.
Then Simon said : " He is a veritable flint-stone.
He nearly knocked the beam out with his head and
it hardly hurt him a bit."
But Matrena said : " How can he help getting hard
and smooth with the life he leads. Even death itself
has no hold upon a clod like that."
VII.
And Simon said to Michael :" " We have taken the
work, but whether it will do us a mischief after all
who can say? The wares are dear, and the gentle-
man is stern. What if we blunder over it? Look
now ! your eyes are sharper than mine, and your hands
are defter at measuring. Cut out the leather now,
and I'll sew on the buttons."
Tales from Tolstoi
Michael obeyed at once. He took the gentleman's
wares, spread them out on the table, folded them in
two, took his knife, and began to cut out
Matrena came forward and watched Michael cutting
out, and she was amazed at the way in which Michael
did it Matrena was already used to the sight of
cobbler's work, and she looked and saw that Michael
did not cut out as cobblers are wont to do, but cut
it out in a circle. Matrena would have liked to have
spoken, but she thought : " Maybe I don't understand
how gentlemen's boots ought to be cut out. No
doubt Michael knows better than I. I won't interfere."
Michael had now cut out the leather for a pair of
boots, and he took up the ends and began to stitch,
not as cobblers do so as to have two ends, but with
one end as is the way of those who make shoes for
the dead.
Matrena was amazed at this also, but even now she
didn't interfere. Michael went on sewing. It began
to get dark, Simon got up and looked. Out of the
gentleman's leather Michael had stitched together
bosoviki*
Simon sighed : " How is it," thought he, " that
Michael who has been working with us for a whole
year without making a mistake, has now done us this
mischief? The gentleman bespoke heavily soled
boots, and he has stitched bosoviki, which are sole-
less. He has spoiled the leather. What shall I now
say to the gentleman? One can't get stuff like that
here."-
Lit. shoes worn on naked feet, such as are put on the feet of a corpse,
2l6
What Men Live by
And he said to Michael : " What is this that you
have done, dear heart? You have done for me now.
The gentleman bespoke boots, and what have you
stitched together? "
Scarcely had Simon begun to take Michael to task
about the boots when there was a fumbling at the
door-latch, and someone knocked. They looked out
of the window ; someone on horseback was there
who had just tied up his horse. They opened the
door, and in came the selfsame lad who had been with
the gentleman.
" Good health to you ! "
" Good health ! What's amiss ? "
" My mistress has sent me about the boots."
"About the boots?"
" Yes, about the boots. Master needs no more
boots. My master will command no more. He's
dead ! "
" Go along with you ! "
" He didn't even get home alive. He died in the
sledge. When the sledge got to the house and we
went to help him out, there he was like a lump, all of
a heap and stiff frozen, lying there dead. It was as
much as we could do to tear him from the sledge.
Our mistress too has sent to say : ' Pray tell the
cobbler what has happened, and say that as boots are
not now requisite for master, would he make a pair of
bosoviki for the dead body out of the stuff that was
left.' I am to wait till they are stitched together, and
I am to take the bosoviki back with me so I have
come."
Michael took from the table the clippings of the
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Tales from Tolstoi
leather and rolled them up into a ball. He also
brought out the bosoviki, which were quite ready,
cracked them one against the other, brushed them
with his apron, and gave them to the lad. The lad
took away the bosoviki.
" Farewell, masters ! Good day."
VIII.
Another year passed by two years passed by.
It was now the sixth year of Michael's abiding with
Simon. He lived just in the same way as before. He
went nowhither, spoke to no strange person, and the
whole of that time he had only smiled twice : once
when the old woman had prepared supper for him,
and the second time when he had looked at the
gentleman. Simon could not rejoice enough in his
workman. And he. asked him no more from whence
he came ; the only fear he now had was lest Michael
should leave him.
One day they were sitting at home. The old woman
was putting an iron pot on the stove, and the children
were running along the benches and looking out of
the windows. Simon was stitching at one window,
and Michael was hammering at the heel of a boot
at the other window. One of the little boys sidled
along the bench up to Michael, leaned against his
shoulder, and looked out of the window.
" Look, Uncle Michael ! A merchant's wife is
coming with her children to our house, and one of
the little girls is lame."
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What Men Live by
The little lad had scarcely said this when Michael
threw down his work, turned to the window and
looked out into the street.
And Simon was amazed. Michael had never looked
into the street before, and now he rushed to the
window and was looking at something or other.
Simon also looked out of the window, and he saw a
woman coming straight towards his door ; her dress
was neat and clean, and she led by the arm two little
girls in furs, with kerchiefs round their heads. The
children were as like as two peas, it was impossible
to tell one from the other, only one of them was lame
of a foot, and limped as she walked.
The woman went upstairs to the antechamber,
fumbled at the door, groped for the latch, and opened
the door. She pushed her two little children on
before her, and entered the hut.
" Good health, my masters ! "
" We cry your pardon what do you want ? "
The woman sat down on a chair, the children
pressed close to her knees, the good people looked on
and wondered.
" Look, now," said the woman, " will you stitch me
leather bashmachki* for the children against the
spring ? "
" Maybe. We don't as a rule make shoes for such
little children, but we can do so, of course. You can
have them with good, strong uppers, or you can have
them lined with linen. My Michael here is a master
at his trade."
* Women's shoes,
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Tales from Tolstoi
Simon glanced towards Michael, and perceived
that he had thrown down his work and was gazing
steadily at the children. He couldn't take his eyes
from them.
And Simon was amazed at Michael It is true they
were nice children black-eyed, plump-cheeked, rosy-
faced and their little furs and frocks were also very
nice ; but still, for all that, Simon could not under-
stand why Michael should look at them as if they
were his acquaintances.
Simon was amazed, and began to talk to the woman,
and settle about the work to be done. They arranged
it, and he took the measure. Then the woman took
the lame little girl on her lap, and said :
" Take the two measures from this little one, and
make one little shoe for the left little foot, and three
for the right little foot. They've both the same
shape of foot as like as two peas. They are
twins."
Simon took the tiny measure, and said to the lame
little girl:
" How did this befall you ? Such a nice little girl
as you are too ! Were you born with it? "
" Nay, her mother did it"
Matrena then drew near. She wanted to know who
the woman was, and all about the children.
" Then you are not their mother, eh? "
" I am not their mother, nor indeed any relation,
my mistress. They were quite strangers to me, but
I adopted them."
"They are not your children, eh? Yet you seem
very fond of them?"
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What Men Live by
"Why should I not be fond of them? I have
nourished them both on my bosom. I had a child of
my own, but God took him ; yet I couldn't love my
own child more than I love these ? "
" Whose then are they? "
IX.
The woman began to speak, and this is what she
said :
"It is now six years ago," said she, " since the
parents of these orphans died in one week. They
buried the father on the Wednesday, and the mother
died on the Friday. These poor little things were
without a father for three days, and their mother did
not live more than a day after their father died. I
lived at that time with my husband in serfdom. We
were neighbours ; we dwelt side by side. The father
of these children was all alone ; he worked in the wood.
One day they were felling a tree, and it fell right
across him ; all his inside came out. Scarcely had
they brought him home than he gave up his soul to
God, but his wife the same week bore these two
little children. There was nothing there but poverty
and loneliness. The woman was quite alone there ;
there was neither nurse nor serving wench. Alone
she bore them, alone she died.
" I went in the morning to look after my neighbour.
I drew near to the hut, and she, poor wretch, was
already cold. In her agony she had trampled upon
this little girl she had trampled on this little girl,
221
Tales from Tolstoi
I say, and broken her leg. The people came together.
They washed and tidied her ; they made a grave
and buried her. They were all good people. The
children remained all alone. What was to be done
with them? I was the only woman of them all just
then who had a suckling. My first dear little boy I
had been nourishing for eight weeks. I took them
to my own house in the meantime. The muzhiks
came together ; they thought and thought what to do
with the children, and they said to me : ' You, Maria,
keep the children for a time at your house, and give
us time to think the matter over.' For a little time
I nourished at my breast the hale and whole child
only, but the one that had been trampled upon I did
not nourish at all. I didn't expect her to live. But
soon I thought to myself, ' How can you bear to see
this little angel face pine away?' So I began to
give it suck also. I fed my own and these two as
well three at my breast I fed. I was young and
strong, and of good food I had no lack. God gave
me abundance of milk. I used to feed two at a time,
while the third waited then I would remove one and
feed the third. But God helped me to nourish all
three, and in the second year I buried my own child.
And God gave me no more children, but I began to
increase in wealth. We live now at the mill with
the merchant ; our wage is high, our life is pleasant.
But we have no children. And how could I bear to
live alone, if it were not for these children? And how
dear are they not to me ! They are to me what wax
is to a candle."
The woman pressed close to her side with one hand
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What Men Live by
the lame little girl, and with the other hand she wiped
the tears from her cheeks.
" Tis plain," said Matrena, " that the proverb is
not in vain which says, ' Without father and mother
we may still get on, but without God we cannot get
on.'"
So they went on talking, and then the woman rose
to go ; the host conducted her out, and as they did
so they glanced at Michael. But he was sitting with
his hands folded on his knees, and he looked upwards
and smiled.
X.
Simon went up to him. " What ails you, Michael ? "
said he.
Michael stood up and put down his work. Then
he took off his apron, bowed to his host and hostess,
and said :
" Farewell, my host and hostess. God has forgiven
me ; you must forgive me too."
And his host and hostess perceived that a radiance
went forth from Michael. And Simon stood up and
bowed low to Michael, and said to him:
" I see, Michael, that thou art no mere man, and I
am not able to keep thee, nor am I able to ask thee
any questions. Tell me, nevertheless, this one thing ;
why, when I found thee and brought thee to my
home, wert thou so sad ; and why, when my old
woman gave thee to sup withal, didst thou smile, and
thenceforth brighten up? Then again, when the
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Tales from Tolstoi
gentleman ordered the boots, ihou didst smile a
second time ; and from that time forth thou didst
become still brighter and now, when the woman
brought these children hither, thou didst smile a third
time, and grow exceedingly bright. Tell me now,
Michael, whence is this light of thine, and wherefore
didst thou smile these three times?"
And Michael said : " For this cause light came
forth from me, because I was punished ; but God has
forgiven me. And I smiled thrice because it was
necessary that thrice I should hear divine words.
And thrice also did I hear them. I heard the first
divine word when your wife had compassion on
me, and then I smiled the first time. I heard the
second divine word when the rich man ordered the
boots, and so I smiled the second time ; and now,
when I saw the children, I heard the third divine
word, and I smiled for the third time."
And Simon said : " Tell me now, Michael, wherefore
did God punish you, and what are those words of
God that you had to learn from me ? "
And Michael said : " God punished me because I
was not obedient. I was an Angel in Heaven, and
God sent me to take away the soul of a woman. I
flew down to the earth, and saw there a woman who
lay sick, she had just given birth to little twin-girls.
They were writhing about beside their mother, and she
was unable to put them to her breasts. The woman
saw me, and understood that God had sent me for
her soul, and she burst into tears, and said!: 'Angel
of God ! They have only just buried my husband ;
he was struck dead by a tree of the forest. I have
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What Men Live by
neither sister, nor aunt, nor grandmother. I have
none at all to bring up my poor orphans. Take not
away my poor, wretched soul, let me but feed and
nourish my little children till they can stand upon
their feet. How can the children live to grow up with
neither father nor mother?' And I listened to the
mother. I laid one child on her breast, I put the other
child in her arms, and I ascended to the Lord in
Heaven. I flew up to the Lord, and I said to Him:
' I cannot take the soul away from that poor, childing
mother. The father was killed by a tree, the mother
has borne twins, and she prayed me not to take the
soul out of her, and said : " Let me but feed and
nourish my little children till they can stand upon
their feet. How can the children live to grow up
with neither father nor mother ? " And so I did not
take away the soul of the poor childing mother.' ' Go
and fetch hither the soul of the childing mother, and
thou shalt learn and know three words : thou shalt
learn what is in the children of men, and what is
not given to them, and that whereby they live. When
thou hast learnt these things, thou shalt return to
Heaven.' And I flew back again upon the earth, and
took away the soul of the childing woman. The little
ones fell from her breast. The dead body fell back
upon the bed, pressed upon one of the little children,
and broke her leg. I rose above the village ; I would
have borne the soul to God. Then a blast caught me,
my wings dropped down and fell off, and the soul
went alone to God ; but I fell to the earth by the
wayside."
9*5
Tales from Tolstoi
XL
And Simon and Matrena understood whom it was
they had clothed and fed, and who had lived with
them, and they wept for fear and joy ; and the Angel
said:
" I was alone in the open field and naked. Never
faadi I known before the needs of man ; never had I
known before hunger and cold, and what it is to be
a man. I grew more and more hungry ; I was freez-
ing, and I knew not what to do. I looked about me ;
I saw in the field a church made for God ; I went to
this Church of God ; I wanted to shelter myself
therein. The church was fastened with bar and bolt ;
there was no getting into it. I sat me down by the
church to be sheltered from the wind. Evening drew
nigh, I grew hungry ; I was cold also, and racked
with pain. All at once I heard a man coming alone.
He was carrying boots, and talking to himself. And
for the first time I saw a deathly human face, besides
feeling what it was to be a man ; and I had a horror
of this face, and turned me away from it. And I
heard how this man was talking to himself, and how
he asked himself how he was to protect his body
against the cold of winter and provide for his wife
and children. And I thought to myself, ' Here am I
perishing from cold and hunger, and here's a man
who only thinks how he is to clothe himself against
the winter and provide him and his with bread. He
can never help me. The man saw me and was
troubled. Then a still greater fear seized him, and he
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What Men Live by
hurried by. I was in despair. Suddenly I heard the
man coming back. I looked and could not recognise
the man I had seen before. Then there had been
death in his face, but now he had suddenly become
a living soul, and in his face I recognised God. He
came to me, clothed me, took me with him, and led
me to his house. I entered his house. His wife
came out to meet us and began to speak. The woman
was even more dreadful than her husband. The
breath of the charnel-house came forth from her
mouth, and I could not breathe for that mortal stench.
She wished to drive me forth into the cold, and I
knew that she would die if she drove me forth. And
all at once her husband reminded her of God, and a
great change suddenly came over the woman. And
when she gave me some supper she looked at me,
and I looked at her, and Death was no longer upon
her she was a living soul, and I recognised God in
her.
" And I remembered the first word of God : ' Thou
shalt know what is in mankind.' And I knew that
in the hearts of mankind was love. And I rejoiced
that God had begun to reveal to me what He had
promised, and I smiled for the first time ; but I was
unable as yet to understand everything. I did not
understand what is not given to men, nor whereby
they live.
" I began to dwell with you, and a year went by.
And the man came and ordered boots boots that
would last a year and neither rot nor shrink. And 1
looked at him, and immediately I saw behind him
his companion the Angel of Death. None but I saw
227
Tales from Tolstoi
this Angel, but I knew him, and I knew also that
before the going down of the sun he would take the
soul of the rich man; and I thought to myself,
' The man makes provision for a year, and he knows
not that he will not be alive by the evening;' and
I remembered the second word of God : ' Thou shalt
know what is not given to men.'
" What was in mankind I knew already, now I knew
what is not given to mankind. It is not given to
mankind to know what is necessary for their bodies.
And I smiled the second time. And I rejoiced that
I had seen my companion Angel, and that God had
revealed to me the second word.
" But I was not yet able to understand everything.
I was not able to understand yet whereby people live ;
and I lived on and waited if haply God might reveal
to me the last word. And in the sixth year came
the twin children and the woman, and I knew
the children, and I knew that they had been kept
alive. I knew it, and I thought, ' The mother
begged me to spare her for her children, and I
believed the mother ; I thought that without father or
mother it was impossible to bring up children, and lo !
a strange woman has nourished and brought them
up.' And when the woman wept with joy over
the strange children, I saw in her the living God, and
knew whereby mankind live, and I knew that God
had revealed to me the last word, and had forgiven
me, and I smiled for the third time."
228
What Men Live by
XII.
And the body of the Angel was revealed, and it was
clothed with light so that no eye could bear to look
upon him, and he began to speak more terribly, just
as if his voice did not come from him, but from
Heaven. And the Angel said :
" I learnt that man does not live by anxious care
of himself, but by love. It was not given the mother
to know what was necessary for the life of her
children ; it was not given to the rich man to know
what was necessary for himself ; and it is given to
no single man to know whether by the evening he will
want boots to wear or bosoviki to be put upon the feet
of his corpse. While I lived the life of man I lived not
by care for mine own self, but by the love that was in
the hearts of a wayfaring man and his wife, and they
were kind and merciful to me. The orphans lived
not by any care they had for themselves, but they
lived through the love that was in the heart of a
strange woman who was kind and merciful to them.
And all these people lived not by reason of any care
they had for themselves, but by the love for them that
was in other people. I knew before that God gave
life unto men, and desires them to live ; but now I
know other things also. I know that God does not
desire men to live away from each other, and there-
fore has not revealed to them that it is necessary for
them to live to themselves, but that He wishes them
to live together, and therefore has revealed to them
that they are needful to each other's happiness. I
229
Tales from Tolstoi
know now that people only seem to live when they
are caring for themselves, and that it is only by love
that they really live. He who is in Love is in God
and God in him, because God is Love."
And the Angel sang the glory of God ; and the
hut trembled at his voice, and the roof parted asunder,
and a pillar of fire shot up from earth to Heaven.
And Simon and his wife fell down with their faces
to the ground ; and wings burst forth from the
Angel's shoulders, and he ascended up into Heaven.
And when Simon looked up, the hut stood there
as before, and in the hut was none but those of his
own household.
2 to
GOD SEES THE RIGHT, THOUGH HE BE
SLOW TO SPEAK.*
IN the city of Vladimir there dwelt a young merchant,
Aksenov by name, and he had two shops and a house.
In person Aksenov was ruddy, curly, goodly to look
upon ; a merry wight was he also, and none could
sing a song like him. From his youth up, Aksenov
had been wont to drink much, and when in drink
would pick quarrels ; but from the time when he had
married he had ceased to drink only very rarely
did the drinking fit come upon him.
One year Aksenov made ready to go to the fair at
Nizhny, and as he took leave of his family his wife
said to him,
" Do not go now, I prythee, Ivan Dmitrievtch, for
I have had an evil dream concerning thee."
Aksenov smiled, and said, " Art thou still afraid
then that I shall break loose a bit at the fair? "
His wife answered, " I myself know not why I am
afraid, but the dream I had of thee was evil me-
thought I saw thee coming forth from the town, and
* This tale is one of the Razkazui dlya dyeti (Tales for Children), and
is translated from the eighth (Moscow) edition of the author's collected
works.
231
Tales from Tolstoi
thou didst take off thy cap, and I saw in my dream
that thy head was all grey."
Aksenov laughed aloud.
" Nay, nay ! but that is too much," said he. " Thou
knowest I am used to knocking about in the way
of trade, and putting up at roadside inns." And he
took leave of his family and departed.
When he was half-way on his road he fell in with
another merchant of his acquaintance, and with him
he put up at an inn for a night's lodging. They
drank tea together, and lay down to sleep in two
adjoining rooms. Aksenov did not like sleeping long,
and as it was easier going in the cold, he aroused the
wagoner and bade him put the horses to. Then he
went into the black hut, settled with his host, and
drove off.
After going forty versts, he again stopped to eat,
rested a bit against the walls of the inn, and at dinner-
time went out into the verandah, bade them place
the samovar there, took out his guitar, and began to
play. Suddenly, into the courtyard there drove a
troika* covered with bells, and from out of the
equipage descended a chinovnik\ with two soldiers,
who went straight up to Aksenov, and asked him
who he was and whence he came ?
Aksenov told him everything about himself, and
inquired, " Wouldst thou not like to drink a cup of
tea along with me ? "
But the. chinovnik never once ceased asking
questions.
* A three-horse carriage. t A government official.
232
God Sees the Right
" Wnere didst thou sleep last night ? " he cried,
"and wert thou alone or with another merchant?
Didst thou see this merchant again next morning?
Why didst thou take the road again so early ? "
Aksenov began to be surprised at all this question-
ing. He told everything just as it had happened, and
said, " Why do you ask me so many questions ? I
am not a thief or a highwayman, or anything of that
sort. I am going about my own business. Why
should you ask me such questions ? "
Then the chinovnik called the soldiers, and said,
" I am a magistrate, and I ask you these questions
because the merchant with whom you passed the
night has been murdered. Show your things! and
you search him ! "
They went into the inn, took his trunk and bag
and undid them, and searched. All at once the
magistrate drew a knife out of the bag, and shrieked,
"Is this your knife?"
Aksenov looked, and saw that they had drawn a
knife covered with blood out of his bag, and he was
afraid.
" How comes the blood on this knife ? "
Aksenov would have answered, but he couldn't utter
a word. " I I don't know. I I the knife the
knife isn't mine."
Then the magistrate said : " This morning we found
the merchant murdered in his bed. Nobody but your-
self could have done it. The hut was locked inside,
and there was nobody in the hut but you. Here's
the knife covered with blood in your bag. Why, the
whole thing's plain on the face of it. Speak ! how did
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Tales from Tolstoi
you kill him, and how much money did you rob him
of?"
Aksenov took God to witness that he had not done
this deed. He protested that he had never seen the
merchant since he had drunk tea with him ; that the
money upon him was only his own 1,000 roubles ; that
the knife was not his. But his voice faltered, his face
was pale, and he trembled like a guilty man, but it
was from fear.
The magistrate called the soldiers and bade them
bind him and carry him to the wagon. When they
threw him, with his feet bound, on to the wagon,
Aksenov crossed himself and began to weep. They
took Aksenov's things and money away from him,
and sent him to the prison of the town hard by.
They sent to Vladimir to find out what manner of
man Aksenov was, and all the merchants and dwellers
in Vladimir testified that Aksenov from his youth up
had been given to drinking and idling about, but was
a very good sort of fellow too. Then they sat in
judgment upon him, and the judges found that he
had murdered the merchant and stolen 20,000 roubles
from him.
His wife grieved over her husband, and didn't know
what to think. All her children were still young, and
one was at the breast. She took them all with her
and went to that town where her husband was
kept in prison. At first they would not let her in,
but she begged and prayed the police-officers, and
they led her to her husband. When she saw him in
his prison garb, in fetters, along with highwaymen,
she sank to the ground, and for a long time would
2 34,
God Sees the Right
not come to again. Afterwards she placed all her
children around her, sat a good bit with him and told
him of home affairs, and asked him concerning every-
thing that had befallen him. He told her everything.
Then said she,
" What's to be done now ? "
" We must appeal to the Tsar," said he. " Surely
they will not be suffered to destroy the innocent."
" His wife said she had already sent in a petition
to the Tsar, but that the petition had not reached
him. Aksenov said nothing, he only hung his head
more than ever.
Then his wife said : " Thou dost see now that my
vision of thee and thy hair growing grey was no idle
tale. Already now thou art beginning to grow grey
from grief. I could not drum it into thee then ! "
And she began to stroke his hair, and said,
"Vanya!* my own darling, tell thy wife didst thou
not do this thing?"
" What ! Dost thou think this of me also ? " cried
Ivan and he folded his arms and wept.
Then a soldier came and said that the wife and
children must go. And Aksenov took leave of his
family for the last time.
When his wife had gone, Aksenov began to
recollect what they had said. When he began to
reflect that his wife also thought the same thing of
him, and asked him whether he hadn't killed the
merchant, he thought to himself, " 'Tis plain that none
save God can know the truth ; to Him alone must I
* Short of " Ivan."
235
Tales from Tolstoi
pray, and from Him only ought I to look for
mercy."
And from henceforth Aksenov ceased to send in
petitions, ceased to buoy himself up with hopes, and
prayed to God alone.
They condemned Aksenov to be flogged with the
knout, and to be sent into hard labour. And so it
was done unto him.
They cut him up with the knout, and after that,
when the wounds na.de by the knout healed again,
they drove him off with the other hard - labour
criminals to Siberia.
At the katorga* in Siberia, Aksenov lived twenty-
one years. The hairs of his head grew white as
snow, and his beard grew long and thin and grey.
All his gaiety died out of him ; he grew bent and
double ; he began to go softly ; to talk but little ;
he never smiled, but often prayed to God. In the
prison Ivan learned to sew shoes, and with the money
he thus scraped together he bought the Chefi-Minei^
and read them when there was light in the prison,
and on festivals he went into the prison chapel, read
the Apostol,% and sang in the choir his voice was
still quite good. His superiors loved Aksenov for his
meekness, and his fellow- prisoners respected him, and
called him "little father" and "the godly man."
When there were petitions to be made in the prison,
his comrades always sent Aksenov to the Governor
to plead on their behalf, and when quarrels arose
* The place where hard-labour convicts work usually a fortress,
j- Lives and Legends of the Saints. J Epistles and Gospels,
236
God Sees the Right
among the prisoners, Aksenov was always asked to
judge betwixt them. Nobody wrote to Aksenov from
home, and he knew not whether his wife and children
were alive or dead.
One day they brought fresh prisoners to the
katorga. In the evening all the old prisoners crowded
round the new ones, and began to put questions to
them as to which village or town they came from,
and as to what they had done. Aksenov also sat
down on the bench beside the new-comers, and with
head bowed down, listened to what this or that one
had to say.
One of the new prisoners was a tall, healthy old
man of about sixty, with a grey-streaked beard. He
told them what he had been taken up for, and this
was his story :
" Yes, my brethren, not for nothing have I plumped
down here! I loosed the carrier's horses from his
sledge. They seized me. They said, 'You stole
them ! ' But I said I only wanted to get along quicker
I let the horses go; besides, the carrier is my
friend. I spoke true. 'Nay, but thou didst steal
them,' said they. And yet they knew not what I
had stolen nor where. There was a nice fuss about
it ; they would have sent me here to my ruin long
ago if they could have got to the bottom of it, and
if they drive me hither now 'tis contrary to law. But
faugh! I am in Siberia at any rate, and there's
an end of it ! "
" And whence do you come ? " asked one of the
prisoners.
"We are from the city of Vladimir, and are
237
Tales from Tolstoi
dwellers there. Makar is my name and they call
me Semenov."
Then Aksenov raised his head and spoke : " Tell
me now, Semenov, hast thou heard in the city of
Vladimir of the Aksenovs, merchants. Are they
alive?"
" I couldn't help hearing. They are rich merchants,
although their father is in Siberia. There are sinners
there you see like us. And thou also, old father, what
art thou here for ? "
Aksenov didn't like to tell of his misfortune, so he
sighed and said, " For my sin's sake I have been at
hard labour for twenty-six years."
" But for what sort of sins? " asked Makar.
" For such as merit this punishment," said Aksenov,
and would say no more ; but the other prisoners told
how Aksenov had come to be in Siberia. They told
him how someone on the road had murdered a mer-
chant and palmed the knife off on to Aksenov, and
how he was unjustly condemned for that deed.
When Makar heard this he looked at Aksenov,
clapped his hands on his knees and said, " Wonderful !
This is indeed wonderful! And thou hast grown old
beneath it, little father ! "
They began to ask him what he was so surprised
at, and where he had seen Aksenov, but Makar
answered not ; he only said, " Children, children, such
meetings are wondrous strange." And at these words
the thought entered Aksenov's mind : What if this
man knows who killed the merchant? And he said,
" Hast thou heard of this matter before, Semenov, or
hast thou seen me before to-day ? "
238
God Sees the Right
" How could I help hearing ? The earth is full of
rumours. But 'twas a long time ago, and he who
heard it once has now forgotten it," said Makar
Semenov.
" Perchance thou hast heard who killed the mer-
chant?" asked Aksenov.
Makar Semenov smiled! and said, " Well, methinks
'tis plain that he killed him within whose bag the knife
was found. If anyone palmed off his knife on thee
well, thou knowest the proverb : ' No capture no
thief.' But how could anyone have shoved a knife
into thy bag? Was it not at thy bed-head? Thou
wouldst have heard him."
As soon as Aksenov heard these words he thought
within himself that this was the very man who had
killed the merchant. He arose and went away. All
that night Aksenov could not sleep. A weary longing
came upon him and made him conjure up all manner
of things. He fancied he saw his wife just as she
was when she accompanied him for the last time to
the fair. He saw her just as if she was still before
him saw her face and her eyes, and heard her speak-
ing to him and laughing. After that he fancied he
saw his children just as they were then there the
little things were, one in his little fur, the other at
the breast. And he called to mind what he himself
had been in those days so young and merry ; he
recalled how he had sat in the little verandah of the
tavern where they had seized him, playing on his
guitar, and how merry and gay his soul then was.
And he remembered the execution-place where they
had cut him with the knout and how he had wept,
2 39
Tales from Tolstoi
and the people all around, and the fetters, and the
prisoners, and the twenty-six years of hard labour,
and he remembered his old age. And such a weari-
ness came over him that the weight of it well-nigh
crushed him. And all because of that evil-doer!
thought Aksenov.
And such a bitterness against Makar Semenov came
upon him that he longed to be avenged upon him
though it were to his own destruction. He recited
prayers all night, but he found no rest for his soul.
In the daytime he did not go near to Makar Semenov
nor even looked at him.
Thus three weeks passed away. Aksenov could
not sleep o' nights, and such a weary longing came
over him that he knew not what to do with himself.
Once at night he went about the prison and perceived
that the earth had been scraped from behind one of
the wooden bedsteads. He stopped to look.
Suddenly Makar Semenov leaped out of the bedstead
and looked up at Aksenov with a frightened face.
Aksenov would have passed on and made as though
he saw him not, but Makar seized him by the hand
and told him that he was digging a passage beneath
the walls, and how he took the earth out every day
in the shafts of his big boots and scattered it along
the road when they drove them out to work. He
said,
" Only keep silence, old man ! and I'll draw thee
out too. But if thou dost tell and they flog me, I'll
not let thee go either I'll kill thee ! "
When Aksenov saw his malefactor he trembled all
over with rage, stretched out his hand and said,
240
God Sees the Right
"Thou canst not draw me out anyhow, and to say
thou wilt kill me is nonsense thou didst kill me
long ago. And I'll tell of thee or not according as
God puts it into my heart to do."
The next day when they were leading the prisoners
out to work, the soldiers observed that Makar
Semenov was scattering earth about ; they began
searching the prison and found the hole. The
Governor came into the dungeon and began to ask
each one of them, " Who dug out this hole ? "
They all denied doing it. Those who knew would
not tell of Makar Semenov because they knew that
he would be whipped for it till he was half-dead.
Then the Governor turned to Aksenov. He knew
that Aksenov was a truthful man, and he said,
" Old man, thou art true before God I charge thee
tell me who did this thing?"
Makar Semenov was standing there as if he had
nothing to do with it and looked at the Governor,
but cast not a glance at Aksenov. Aksenov's arms
and lips trembled, and for a long time he could not
speak a word. He thought : " Screen him, eh ? but
why should I speak not of him when he has been my
ruin? Let him pay for my torments now, say I!
Yet if I tell upon him they'll cut him with the knout !
What then ? Shall I think tenderly of him though it
be all in vain? Yea, I will all the same. I shall feel
lighter at heart for it ! "
The Governor asked him again, " Well, old man !
speak the truth ! Who dug out the earth ? "
Aksenov looked at Makar Semenov and said, " I
cannot say, your honour. God has not bidden me tell
241
T
Tales from Tolstoi
it I'll tell it not. Do what you like with me yours
is the power."
And bully him as the Governor might, Aksenov
would say nothing. Thus they did not discover who
dug out the earth.
The next day, as Aksenov lay upon his bed half-
dreaming, he heard someone come along and sit down
at his feet. He looked into the darkness and recog-
nised Makar. Aksenov said, "What more dost thou
want with me ? What dost thou here ? "
Makar Semenov was silent.
Aksenov rose up and said, " What is it ? Go away,
or I'll call the soldier !"
Makar Semenov bent down close over Aksenov and
said in a whisper, " Ivan Dmitrievich, forgive me ! "
Aksenov said, " For what am I to forgive thee ? "
" I killed the merchant and I palmed off the knife
upon thee. I would have killed thee too, but they
made a stir in the courtyard, so I stuck the knife into
thy bag and escaped out of the window."
Aksenov was silent and knew not what to say.
Makar Semenov got down from the bedstead, knelt
on the ground, and said, " Ivan Dmitrievich, forgive
me ! forgive me for God's sake ! I will confess that
I killed the merchant they will let thee go. Thou
wilt return home."
Aksenov said, " 'Tis easy for thee to speak so, but
what must I endure? Whither can I go now? My
wife is dead, my children have forgotten me ; I have
nowhere to go. . . ."
Makar Semenov did not rise from the ground ; he
bent his head against the ground and said, " Ivan
242
God Sees the Right
Dmitrievich, forgive me! When they cut me with
the knout it was easier for me than to look upon thee
now. . . . And yet thou hadst compassion upon me
and didst not speak. Forgive me for Christ's sake
forgive thy accursed malefactor ! " and he fell
a-sobbing.
When Aksenov heard Makar Semenov weeping, he
himself began weeping too, and said, " God forgive
thee ; maybe I am a hundred times worse than thou ! "
and all at once his heart grew wondrous light and he
ceased grieving about home, and wished no longer
to quit the prison, but thought only of his last hour.
Makar Semenov did not obey Aksenov but gave him-
self up as guilty ; but when the official permission for
Aksenov to return home arrived, he was already dead.
243
THE GRAIN THAT WAS LIKE AN EGG.
ONCE upon a time some children found, in a cleft in
the earth, a small substance like an egg, with a slit
down the middle of it like a grain of corn. A passer-
by, who saw the children playing with it, bought it
of them for a pyatak (i%<a?.), took it to town, and
sold it to the King as a curiosity.
The King called together his wise men, and bade
them tell him what manner of thing it was. Was it
a grain of corn or a hen's egg? The wise men
pondered and pondered, but they could give no
answer to the King's question.
There, upon the window-sill, lay the strange sub-
stance, and lo! a bird flew down upon it and fell to
pecking at it, and she pecked a large hole right into
it, wherupon all men marvelled, for they saw that
it was a grain of corn. Then the wise men drew nigh
again, and they said to the King, " The thing is a
grain of rye."
The King was astonished. He bade the wise men
tell him where and when this manner of grain grew.
The wise men pondered and pondered. They
searched their books and found nothing. Then
they came back to the King and said : " Oh, King !
we can give thee no answer. There is nothing
written about this thing in our books. We must ask
244
The Grain that was like an Egg
the muzhiks if they, perchance, have heard from their
elders where and when such grain was wont to be
grown."
And the King sent and commanded that the eldest
of the muzhik elders should be brought before him.
And they sought out the eldest elder and brought him
to the King.
The old man came, all livid and toothless, hobbling
painfully along with a crutch under each arm. The
King showed him the grain. The old man could
scarce see it ; but after much poring over it with his
eyes and much fumbling at it with his fingers, he half
gathered and half guessed what it really was. And
the King said to him,
" Dost thou know, oh aged man ! where grain like
this doth grow? Hast thou ever sown such grain in
thy field, or bought of such grain in thy day? "
The old man stood there dumb and silent. His
ears were hard of hearing, and his mind slow to
understand. At last he made answer to the King.
" Nay ! " said he, " I have never sown such grain in
my field, nor reaped, nor purchased such in my time.
The corn we have bought has always been small of
grain. But ask my dad ; he, peradventure, may have
heard where such grain used to grow."
So the King sent and commanded that the old
man's father should be brought before him.
And they found the elder's father and brought him
to the King. And the old, old man came on a single
crutch. And the King bade them show him the grain
of corn. The old man could still see very well. He
had no need to look at the grain twice.
245
Tales from Tolstoi
And the King called him, saying, " Dost thou know,
oh aged man, where such grain was wont to grow?
Hast thou ever grown such grain in thy field, or
purchased such grain in thy day ? "
The old man was somewhat deaf, but he could
hear much better than his son.
" Nay," said he, " I have never sown nor reaped
grain like this in my field ; nor have I ever bought
thereof, for, in my day, money was still unknown, and
distilling vats likewise. Every man ate of the corn
of his own land, and gave to his neighbour according
to his needs. I know not where such corn was grown.
Our grain was larger, and yielded! more than the
grain of to-day ; but grain such as this I have never
seen. I have heard my father say that in his day
the corn was better than it was in mine, and the
grain larger and fuller. Send and ask him."
And the King sent for the father of the old, old
man. They found the patriarch and brought him to
the King. The venerable man came to the King
without a crutch. He was light of foot, his eyes
sparkled, and he spoke plainly. The King showed
the grain to the grandfather. He looked at it, and
twirled it round between his fingers.
" What ! " cried he, " surely this is never that dear
old grain of the olden time ? " and he bit off a piece
of the grain and briskly chewed it. "Tis the very
same, indeed ! " cried he.
" Tell me now, old grandfather, where and when
was this grain wont to grow? Has thou ever sown
such grain in thy field, or did folks buy of such grain
in thy day ? " And the old man answered and said,
246
The Grain that was like an Egg
" In my day, corn like this grew everywhere. In my
day I lived on corn like this, and my family with me.
This grain and no other have I sown and reaped and
thrashed."
And the King said : " Tell me, old grandfather,
wert thou wont to buy this corn or grow it in thine
own field ? "
The old man smiled. " In my days," said he, " such
a sin as buying or selling corn never entered into the
mind of man. Of money they knew nothing ; every-
one could have as much corn as his heart desired."
" But tell me, grandfather," said the King, " where
didst thou sow such corn, and where was thy
field?"
And the grandfather answered and said : " My field
was God's wide world. Wherever my ploughshare
fared, there was my field. The soil was free to all,
quite free. Folks never said 'This land is mine !' A
man's handiwork was all that he called his own."
Then said the King : " There are yet two things
that I would fain ask of thee. The first is this : why
has such grain ceased to grow now, though it used to
grow formerly ? The second thing is this : why does
thy grandson go on two crutches, thy son but on one,
while as to thee, thou art altogether light of foot, and
thine eyes sparkle, and thy teeth are sound and strong,
and thy speech plain, and pleasant to hearken unto.
Tell me, grandfather, what is the meaning of these
two things, and why do we not see such things
now ? "
And the patriarch said : " These two things no
longer happen because folks have ceased to live by
247
Tales from Tolstoi
their labours, and have begun to lust after their neigh-
bours' goods. In olden times they lived not so. In
olden times they walked with God, ruled their own
households in peace, and envied not the things of
others."
248
THREE OLD MEN.*
" And when ye pray, make not vain repetitions as the heathen do :
for they think they shall be heard for their much asking. Be not like
unto them, for your Heavenly Father knows what ye have need of
before ye ask Him." Matt. vi. 7, 8.
THE Archbishop was sailing in a ship from the City
of Archangel to Solovka. And on the same ship
were sailing sundry pilgrims. The wind was fair, the
weather bright, there was no rocking. As for the
pilgrims, some had laid them down, some were taking
a little to eat, others sat in groups talking one with
another. The Archbishop, too, came out upon the
deck, and walked backwards and forwards along the
bridge. The Archbishop went to the prow of the
boat ; he perceived that a group of people had
collected together there. A little muzhik was pointing
to something in the sea with his hand, and speaking,
and the people stood and listened. The Archbishop
stood still too. He also looked in the direction
pointed out by the little muzhik, but nothing was to
be seen save the sea, on which the sun was shining.
The Archbishop drew nearer still and began to listen,
* Translated from the Moscow (Fifth) Edition of 1889 of Tolstoi's
collected works (vol. xx., pp. 213-221).
249
Tales from Tolstoi
but the little muzhik, when he saw the Archbishop,
doffed his cap and was silent. Then the people also
saw the Archbishop, and they too doffed their caps
and did obeisance.
" Do not let me disturb you, my brethren," said
the Archbishop. " My good man," he added, " I also
have come hither to listen to what thou wert talking
about."
" The little fisherman was telling us about the old
men," said a merchant, taking courage.
" The old men ! What meanest thou ? " and he
came to the ship's side and sat down among them
on a box. " Tell me, too ; I am listening," said he.
" What wert thou pointing out just now ? "
" That little island yonder," said the little muzhik,
and pointed to the right, straight in front of him.
"On that same little island live the three old men
and save their souls."
" But where is the island ? " asked the Archbishop.
" There ! look, I prythee, straight along my arm.
Over there is a little cloud, and below it, more to the
left, like a little strip, thou canst see it."
The Archbishop gazed and gazed. The water
sparkled in the sunlight, but he could not see anything
more than usual *
" I see it not," said he. " But what manner of men
are these three that dwell on this little island ? "
" They are God's people," replied the peasant " I
have heard tell of them this long time, but to see
them I never could get so far as that ; and lo ! this
last year I myself did see them ! "
And the fisherman began to tell all over again how
250
Three Old Men
he had gone it-fishing, and how he had come to this
very island, not knowing where he was. In the morn-
ing he took a walk about and came upon a hut made
of earth, and by this hut of earth he saw an old man,
and afterwards two others came out, and they gave
him to eat, and dried his clothes, and helped him to
mend his boat.
"And what are they like in themselves?" asked
the Archbishop.
" One of them is very little, and bent double, and
old very old ; he wears a ragged little hood : he must
needs be over a hundred, for the grey in his beard is
already beginning to show green. But he himself is
always smiling, and he is as bright as a heavenly angeL
The second of the three is taller. He also is old and
wears a torn kaftan ; his beard is broad and grey,
with a yellowish tinge, but the man himself is strong.
He turned my boat about like a tub ; I was unable
to help him, so quick and lusty was he. But the third
of them was very tall, his beard was long, reaching
to his knee, and as white as the mouse-hawk's wing,
but he himself was dark-looking, his brows hung
over his eyes; all naked, too, was he, save for the
leather girdle about his loins."
"And what said they to thee?" asked the Arch-
bishop.
" They did everything rather in silence, and spoke
but little one to another. One had but to give a
look and the others understood him. I asked the
tall one if they had lived there long. Then he
frowned, began to say something, and got so angry,
that the ancient caught him by the arm and smiled
Tales from Tolstoi
and there was a great silence. Then the ancient
said : ' Excuse us ! ' and smiled again."
While the peasant was speaking the ship had
drawn nearer to the island.
" Look, now it is quite plain ! " said the merchant.
" Would it please your Grace to look ? " he added,
and pointed it out.
The Archbishop looked steadily again, and ' sure
enough there was a black streak it was the island.
The Archbishop gazed and gazed, whereupon he
went from the prow to the stem of the vessel, and
approaching the steersman, he said :
" What is that island visible over there ? "
" It has no name. There are many of them here."
" Is it true what they say, that there live three
old men who would save their souls? "*
" They say so, your Grace ; but I know not
whether it be true. The fishermen say they have
seen them. So it is, and they talk a lot of nonsense
about it ! "
" I should like to go to the island to see the old
men," said the Archbishop. " How can it be done? "
" To go thither in a ship is impossible," said the
steersman ; " but one might get there in a small boat,
but we must ask the master first."
So they called out the master of the ship.
" I should like to see these old men," repeated the
Archbishop; "couldst thou take me over to them?"
The master fell a-thinking. "'Tis possible, no
doubt ; but we should lose much time about it, and I
* i.e., be hermits.
252
Three Old Men
venture to represent to your Grace that they are not
worth a visit. People have told me that they are
the most stupid old men that ever lived. They
understand nothing, and they have not a word to say ;
the very fish in the sea are not more stupid."
" Nevertheless, I will go," said the Archbishop ;
"and I will pay you for your trouble in taking me."
There was nothing more to be said. Orders were
given to the sailors, the sails were spread, the steers-
man altered the ship's course, and they sailed
towards the island. The Archbishop brought a
chair on to the prow. He sat down and gazed, and
all the people gathered together on the prow and
stared at the island. And those whose eyes were
keenest could already make out the stones on the
shore of the island, and the little hut of earth. And
there was one who could even see the three old men.
Then the master drew forth his telescope, looked
through it, and gave it to the Archbishop. "Yes,"
said he ; " there on the shore, on the right of a large
stone,, stand three men."
The Archbishop also looked through the telescope,
found the right focus, and there, sure enough, stood
the three ; one was tall, the second was not so tall,
and the third was very small. They were standing
on the shore holding each other by the hand.
The master of the ship approached the Archbishop.
" Here your Grace," said he, " the ship must stop.
If it please you, take a seat in the skiff, and we will
remain here at anchor."
And immediately they lowered the Anchor, let
down the sails, and the vessel swung to and fro till
253
Tales from Tolstoi
she steadied herself. Then they let loose the skiff,
the sailors leaped in, and they began to let the
Archbishop down by the ladder. They let the Arch-
bishop down, he sat in the skiff on a little box, the
sailors set to work pulling, and they drew towards the
island. They sped onwards as steadily as a stone
falls, and lo ! there on the island stood the three old
men the tall one all naked save for his leather
girdle ; the middling-sized one in a ragged kaftan ;
and the old, old bent-back in the little old hood
there they stood, all three holding each other by the
hands.
The rowers rowed the boat ashore, moored her
with a rope, and the Archbishop landed.
The old men bowed low before him, he blessed
them, and they bowed still lower. Then the Arch-
bishop began to speak to them.
" I have heard," said he, " that ye were here, ye
ancients of God, to save your souls and pray for
Christ's people, and I am here, by the mercy of God,
Christ's unworthy servant, called to feed His flock
I desired therefore to see you also, O ye servants of
God, if so be I might give you some instruction."
The old men were silent. They smiled and looked
at one another.
" Tell me how ye save your souls, and how you
serve God," said the Archbishop.
The middling-sized old man sighed and looked at
the eldest of the three, the ancient ; the tall old
man frowned and looked at the eldest of the three,
the ancient. And the old, old man, the ancient one,
smiled, and said: ;
'254
Three Old Men
" O servant of God, we know not how to serve
God, we only serve ourselves, and find ourselves
food."
" Then how do ye pray to God ? " asked the Arch-
bishop.
And the very ancient elder said, " We pray thus :
' You Three, you Three, have mercy upon us ! "
And no sooner had the ancient elder said this, than
all three old men raised their eyes to heaven, and
cried : " You Three, you Three, have mercy upon
us!"
The Archbishop smiled, and said : " Ye have heard,
meseems, of the Holy Trinity, but not thus should
ye pray. I have taken a liking for you, ye ancients
of God ; I perceive that ye have the will to please
God, but know not how to serve Him. Not thus
should ye pray, but listen to me and I will teach you.
I will not teach you of mine own self, but out of
God's word will I teach you how He would have men
pray to Him."
And the Archbishop began to explain to the old
men how God revealed Himself to people ; he ex-
plained to them about God the Father, God the Son,
and God the Holy Ghost ; and he said, " God the
Son came into the world to save people, and thus He
taught all men to pray listen, and repeat after me."
And the Archbishop began to say, " Our Father,"
and the first old man repeated " Our Father," and
the second old man repeated " Our Father," and the
third old man repeated " Our Father." " Which art
in Heaven." " Which art in Heaven," repeated the
three old men.
255
Tales from Tolsto!
But the middling-sized old man made a jumble of
the words, he said them not as they should be ; nor
did the tall naked old man bring them out as they
ought to have been spoken his hair grew so thickly
round his mouth that he could not speak the words
plainly ; the toothless old ancient also stammered
forth sounds without meaning.
The Archbishop repeated his words once again,
the old men repeated them once again also. And
the Archbishop sat down on a little stone, and the
old men stood around him and looked him in the
mouth, and imitated him all the time he was speaking
to them. And the Archbishop took pains with them
the whole day till the evening ; ten, twenty, a
hundred times would he repeat one word, and the
old men repeated it after him. And whenever they
went astray he put them right again, and made them
repeat it all over from the beginning.
And the Archbishop never left the old men till
they had learnt the whole of the Lord's Prayer.
They recited it after him, and) they recited it by
themselves. First of all the middling-sized old man
grasped it and repeated it all. And the Archbishop
commanded them to say it again and again, and
repeat it yet again, and at last the others recited
the whole prayer.
It had already begun to grow dark, and the moon
began to rise out of the sea, when the Archbishop
arose to go to the ship. The Archbishop took leave
of the old men, and they prostrated themselves on
the ground before him. He raised them up, kissed
each one of them on the forehead, bade them pray
256
Three Old Men
as he had taught them to pray, and then he sat him
down in the skiff and they rowed him to the ship.
So the Archbishop was rowed to the ship, and all
the time he kept on listening to the voices of the
three old men sonorously repeating the Lord's
Prayer. They were now drawing nigh to the ship,
the voices of the old men could no longer be heard,
they themselves were only visible by the light of
the moon .- there on the shore in the same place stood
the three old men one of them, the smallest of
all, in the middle, the tall one on the right, and the
middling-sized one on the left hand. The Arch-
bishop got to the ship, he ascended to the deck, they
raised the anchor, unfurled the sails, the sails bulged
out in the wind, the ship began to move, and they
went on further. The Archbishop returned to the
stern, .sat down there, and kept gazing at the island.
At first the old men were visible, presently they were
lost to sight, and only the island was visible, and
the lonely sea played in the moonlight.
The pilgrims had laid them down to sleep, and on
the deck all was silent. But sleep would not come
to the Archbishop ; he sat all alone in the stern,
looked out upon the sea at the point where the island
had disappeared, and fell a-thinking of the good
old men. He thought of how joyful they had been
when he had taught them to pray, and he thanked
God for sending him to the help of these godly old
men to teach them the Words of the Lord
So the Archbishop sat there thinking and gazing
out upon the sea in the direction where the island
had disappeared. Something flickered before his
57
U
Tales from Tolstoi
eyes there, yonder, a long way off, a light played
upon the waters! And suddenly he saw something
white and glistening in the midst of the columns of
moonlight on the waves a bird, perhaps, a gull;
or was it the tiny sail of a fishing-bark that glittered
so? The Archbishop continued to gaze. "'Tis a
little boat," thought he, "coming after us with full
sail. And how quickly it is chasing us! Just now
it was far, far away ; and look now ! it is quite close.
A boat? No, 'tis no boat, and that is not at all like
a sail ! But something white is coming after us, and
it will soon catch us up too ! " And the Archbishop
could not make up his mind what it could be. A
boat? No, not a boat. A bird? No, not a bird.
A fish? No, not a fish. It was like a man, a very
huge man ; but how couldl a man speed across the
sea? The Archbishop arose and went to the steers-
man. " Look ! what is that ? What is that, my
brother?" asked the Archbishop; "what is that?"
But the selfsame instant he perceived what it was
the old men were running upon the sea ! and as they
ran their beards shone dazzling bright, and they drew
nigh to the ship as though it was standing still.
The steersman looked, was terrified, quitted his
rudder, and cried with a loud voice : " O Lord, have
mercy upon us ! The three old men are after us
upon the sea, and they run as if they were on dry
land ! " All the people on board heard this cry,
arose, and rushed towards the stern. ^ They all
looked, and behold ! the three old men were running
hands in hand, and the two outsiders were waving
their hands and beckoning the people to stop. All
25*
Three Old Men
three were walking upon the water as if it were dry
ground ; they ran, and yet their feet moved not up
and down.
They had not yet succeeded in stopping the ship,
when lo ! the old men came alongside of it and came
on board, and raised their heads, and cried with one
voice, " We have forgotten, O servant of God, we
have forgotten thy teaching ! So long as we repeated
it we remembered it ; we left off repeating it for a
moment, and lo! one word leaped out of it, and we
forgot it all it all oozed away. We remember noth-
ing of it ; teach us over again."
The Archbishop crossed himself, turned to the
old men, and said, " Betake you to God and your
own prayer, ye godly elders ; 'tis not for me to teach
you. Pray ye for us sinners ! " And the Archbishop
did obeisance to the old men.
And the old men stood still, and presently they
turned them about and went back upon the sea.
And the bright light that shone in the direction
whither the old men had gone was visible till
morning.
259
THE GODFATHER.*
"Ye have heard that it hath been said: an eye for an eye and a
tooth for a tooth ; but I say unto you : That ye resist not evil."
Matt. v. 38, 39.
"Vengeance is Mine, I will repay." Rom. xii. 19.
A POOR muzhik had a son born unto him. The
muzhik rejoiced, and went to his neighbour to beg
him to be a sponsor for his child. The neighbour
refused ; he would not be a sponsor to a poor man's
child. Then the poor muzhik went to another neigh-
bour, and he refused likewise. He went round the
whole village, and nobody would be a sponsor for him.
The muzhik set out for another village, and there met
him on the road a wayfaring man, and the wayfaring
man stopped and greeted him :
" Hail to thee, little muzhik ! " cried he, " whither
away, in God's name ? "
" The Lord has given me a little child," replied
the muzhik, " to be the charge of my young manhood,
the comfort of my old age, and the beadsman who
shall pray for my soul when I am dead; but because
* Translated from the " Poslyednie Razskazui" (Latest Tales), Berlin
1894.
260
The Godfather
of my poverty nobody will be my child's sponsor,
so I go searching for a godfather."
And the wayfaring man said unto him : " Take me
for thy child's godfather."
Then the heart of the muzhik rejoiced. He
thanked the wayfaring man, and said, " But whom
shall I have for a godmother? "
" For a godmother," said the wayfaring man, " thou
shalt take the merchant's daughter. Go into the
town to the stone house with the booths before it
in the square ; at the entrance of this house thou
shalt ask the merchant to let his daughter come out
to be thy child's godmother."
The muzhik smiled. " How shall I, my chosen
godfather," said he, " how shall I go to the rich
merchant? He will not let his daughter come, and
will only revile me."
"Fear not, but go. By to-morrow morning let
everything be ready ; I will be at the christening."
Then the poor muzhik returned home, and went
into the town to the merchant's house. He put up
his horse in the courtyard, and the merchant himself
came out.
" What dost thou want ? " said he.
" Look now, my lord merchant," replied the
muzhik, " the Lord hath given me a little child to
be the charge of my young manhood, the comfort of
my old age, and my beadsman who shall pray for my
soul when I am dead. I prythee let thy daughter
come to be my child's godmother."
" And when, then, is the christening ? "
" To-morrow morning."
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Tales from Tolstoi
" Good ! Depart in God's name : to-morrow I will
come to the feast"
And the next day the godmother came, and the
godfather came likewise, and the child was christened.
But no sooner was the child christened than the god-
father went out, and none knew who he was, nor
from that time forth did any man see him.
II.
Now the little lad began to grow up, and was a
joy to his parents, for he was strong and laboured
willingly, and was both wise and gentle. And when
the lad was ten years old his parents had him taught
his letters, and the lad learnt in one year what it
takes other lads five years to learn.
Now, when Holy Week came, the lad went to his
godmother to give her the Easter kiss, returned home
again, and said : " My dear little father and mother,
where does my godfather live? I should like to go
to him and give him also the Easter kiss."
And his father said unto him : " We know not, my
darling little son, where thy godfather liveth ; we
ourselves are distressed thereby. We have not seen
him from the time when he stood sponsor for thee.
We have not heard of him since, nor do we know
where he lives or whether he be alive at all."
Then the son made obeisance to his father and
mother, and said : " Let me go, dear little father and
mother, to seek my godfather. I want to find him
that I may give him the Easter kiss."
262
The Godfather
So the father and mother let their son go, and the
little lad set forth to seek his godfather.
III.
The little lad left his home and went out upon the
highway. For half a day he went on and on, and
then there met him a wayfaring man. The way-
faring man stopped short.
" Hail to thee, my lad ! " said he, " whither, in
God's name, art thou going?"
And the lad said : " I have just been to give my
godmother the Easter kiss, and after that I came
home again and said to my father and mother,
' Where does my godfather dwell ? for I want to give
him the Easter kiss also.' And my parents answered,
' We know not, little son, where thy godfather liveth.
From the time that he stood sponsor for thee he
departed from us, and we know nothing of him
nay, we know not even whether he be alive ! ' But
I have a great desire to see my godfather, wherefore
I now go seek him,"
And the wayfaring man said : " I am thy god-
father."
Then the youth rejoiced, and gave his godfather
the Easter kiss.
" My darling godpapa," said he, " whither art thou
gr.ing? If thou art going in our direction, come, I
prythee, and abide at our house; but if thou art
going to thine own home I will go with thee."
" I have no leisure to come to thy house just now,
263
Tales from Tolstoi
for I have the affairs of my estate to see to, but I
shall be back at my own house to-morrow ; come
thou then to me."
" And how shall I get to thee, good godfather ? "
" Go straight before thee towards sunrise and thou
wilt come to a forest, and in the midst of this forest
thou wilt see a little field. Sit down in this little
field and rest thyself and observe what is there. As
thou comest out of this forest thou wilt see a garden,
and in this garden is a pavilion with a golden roof.
That is my house. Go up to the gate and I will be
there to meet thee."
So spake the godfather, and vanished from before
the eyes of his godson.
IV.
The lad did as his godfather bade him. He went
on and on till he came to the forest He came out
into the little field, and in the midst of the field he
saw a pine-tree with a rope fastened to one of its
branches, and an oaken block about three poods* in
weight hung on the rope, and beneath the oaken
block was a pitcher full of honey. The lad had just
begun thinking to himself why the block of oak
should be hung there and the honey set out, when
he heard a crackling sound in the forest, and saw
some bears coming towards the spot, the she-bear
coming first, behind her a cub a year old, and still
* A pood equals 40 Ibs.
264
The Godfather
further behind three little bears. The she-bear put
her snout into the honey, called to the little bears,
who came leaping up and fell upon the pitcher. Then
the block of oak began to swing to and fro a little,
and as it swung back again it struck the little bears.
The she-bear seeing this, hit it with her paw and
sent it swinging back again. The block swung still
further, and rebounded into the midst of the little
bears, striking some on the head and others on the
back. The young bears bellowed and leaped out
of its way, but the she-bear grew angry, seized the
block with both paws above her head, and sent it
spinning away from her. The block flew high into
the air, whereupon the one-year-old cub rushed to
the pitcher, buried his snout into the honey, and
began to gobble. The others made for it likewise,
but before they could get up to it the block flew
back again, struck the one-year-old cub on the head,
and killed him. The she-bear was more furious than
ever, and seizing hold of the block of wood, sent it
flying back with all her might. The block flew this
time higher than the branch that held it, and the
rope by which it was tied grew slack. Then the
she-bear went up to the pitcher again and all the
little bears after her. The block flew higher, higher,
then it stopped short and came down again, and the
lower it came the swifter it went. Down it came
upon the she-bear like lightning, crushing down upon
her head. The she-bear fell over, wriggled with
her legs, and expired. The little bears all ran away.
The youth marvelled at the sight and went on further.
265
Tales from Tolstoi
V.
He next came to a large garden, and in this garden
was a lofty pavilion with a golden roof, and at the
gate stood his godfather with a smile on his face.
He greeted the godson kindly, and led him through
the gate into the garden. Not even in his dreams
had the godson ever beheld such beautiful and such
pleasant things as he now saw in the garden.
Then the godfather led his godson into the palace,
and the palace was even better than the garden.
The godfather led the youth through all the rooms ;
each one was better and more glorious than the one
before it, and at last he led him to a sealed door.
" Dost see that door ? " said he. " There is no
lock upon it, but only a seal. 'Twere easy for thee
to open it, but I do not bid thee do so. Dwell here,
and take thy pastime where thou wilt and how thou
wilt ; all the delights of this garden and palace are
thine ; there is but one thing I forbid thee enter
not into that door. And if thou dost enter, remember
what thou didst see in the wood."
Thus spake the godfather and departed. The
godson remained alone to live his new life, and) so
joyful and happy was he that it seemed to him as if
he had only lived there three hours, while he had
been living there thirty years. And when the thirty
years had passed, the godson went up to the sealed
door, and he thought to himself, " Why, I wonder,
did my godfather tell me not to enter this room?
Nay, but I will go in, if only to see what is there."
266
The Godfather
He shook the door, he picked off the seal, and
entered. The godson entered, and he beheld a
pavilion larger and better than all he had seen before,
and in the midst of the pavilion stood a golden
throne. The godson went up and down the rooms
of the pavilion ; he approached the throne, mounted
the steps, and sat down. Then the godson perceived
a sceptre on the throne, and he stretched out his
hand and seized the sceptre. And no sooner had
he taken the sceptre than all four walls of the
pavilion rolled away, and the godson looked around
him and beheld the whole world, and all that people
in the world are wont to do. He looked straight
before him, and he saw the sea with ships sailing
upon it. He looked to the right, and he saw strange
unchristian nations dwelling there ; he looked to the
left, and there dwelt those Christians who were not
Russians; then he looked to the fourth side, and
there our Russian nation dwelt
" I should like," cried he, " to see what is going on
at home, and whether our crops are good." Then
he saw his own fields and the sheaves standing up-
right within them. He began counting the sheaves
to see if they were many, and then he saw a telyega*
driving across the fields, and in it sat a peasant. The
godson thought it was his father going to gather
together his sheaves at night, but on looking again,
he perceived that it was the thief Vasily Kudryashov
who was driving. He came up to the sheaves and
began to put them in his cart. At this the godson
* A peasant's wagon..
Tales from Tolstoi
was very angry, and cried out, " Daddy, daddy ! they
are stealing your sheaves from the field." Then his
father awoke in the night, and said, " Methinks they
are stealing my sheaves, I will go and see." And
mounting his horse, away he went. He came to the
field, saw Vasily, and called to the other muzhiks,
and they beat Vasily, bound him, and carried him
off to prison.
Then the godson beheld his own mother, and he
saw how she lay asleep in her hut, and lo! a robber
crept into the back part of the hut and began to
break open the strong-box. His mother awoke and
cried out, but the robber, perceiving her, drew forth
his axe and aimed at the mother, desiring to kill her.
At this the godson was unable to contain himself,
but aimed his sceptre at the robber. It struck him
full on the forehead and killed him on the spot.
VL
No sooner had the godson killed the robber than
the walls came together again, and the pavilion was
just as it had been before. Then the door opened,
and in came the godfather. The godfather walked
up to his godson, seized him by the arm, pulled him
down from the throne, and said, " Thou hast not
obeyed my commands, thou hast done an ill deed in
opening the closed and forbidden door. A second
268
The Godfather
ill deed thou didst when thou didst mount the throne
and take my sceptre into thy hand ; and a third ill
deed thou didst in adding much evil to the evil that
is in the world already. If thou hadst sat on the
throne another moment, thou wouldst have been the
ruin of half the people of the earth."
Then the godfather again placed the godson on
the throne, and put the sceptre into his hand, and
again the walls of the pavilion parted asunder, and
they saw all things.
And the godfather said, " Look now, what thou
hast done to thy father. Vasily has sat for a year
in jail, and he has become the pupil of all manner of
malefactors, and is now more wicked than them. all.
Look! he is now driving away two of thy father's
horses, and thou seest that his farm is in flames also.
That is what thou hast done to thy father."
Then the godson perceived that his father's house
was on fire ; but his godfather hid it from him, and
pointed to something lower down, and the godson
saw the robber, and two guards were holding him
before a dungeon. And the godfather said to him,
" This man had slain nine souls. It had become
necessary for him to redeem his sins, but you have
killed him, so that you have taken all his sins upon
yourself. > Now you have to answer for all his sins.
That is what you have done to yourself! The she-
bear struck the block once and it hurt the little
bears ; she struck it twice and it killed the one-year-
old cub ; she struck it a third time, and it slew
herself. Thou hast now done the same thing. I now
give thee a respite of thirty years. Go into the world
269
Tales from Tolstoi
and buy back the sins of the robber. If thou dost
not redeem them thou wilt have to stand in his
place."
And the godson said, " But how, then, am I to
redeem his sins?"
And the godfather said, "When thou hast drawn
as much sin out of the world as thou hast now put
into it, then thou wilt have redeemed both thine own
sins and the sins of the robber."
" But how, then, am I to draw evil out of the
world ? " asked the godson.
Then said the godfather, " Go right before thee
towards the rising of the sun, and thou wilt come to
a plain whereon dwell men. Observe what these
people do, and teach them of thine own experience.
Then go on further still, and observe what thou
seest, and on the fourth day thou wilt come to a
wood, and in this wood is a cell, and in this cell lives
an old hermit ; tell unto him all that has 'befallen thee.
He will teach thee further. And when thou hast
done all that the old hermit tells thee to do, then
thou wilt have redeemed the robber's sins and thine
own sins also."
Thus spake the godfather, and with that he put
his godson outside the gate.
VII.
The godson went on his way. As he went he
thought to himself, "How am I to draw evil out of
the world? They draw evil out of the world by
270
The Godfather
banishing evil-doers, by shutting them in prisons and
punishing them with punishments. How am I to
set about removing the evil? I cannot take other
people's sins upon my shoulders ! " And the godson
thought and thought, but he could not think the
matter out for himself.
He went on and on, till he came to a field, and in
the field corn was growing good thick corn and it
was harvest-time. And the godson saw how a calf
was wandering in the corn, and people who saw this
also had mounted their horses, and were driving the
calf about in the corn from side to side. And when-
ever the calf was about to spring out of the corn,
someone or other came up and frightened the calf
so that it went back into the corn again, and then
they also plunged after it into the corn again. And
in the road stood an old woman weeping. " They
are chiveying my calf about ! " she cried.
And the godson began to speak to the muzhiks,
and he said to them, " Why do ye thus ? Go all of
you out of the corn, and let the owner of the calf
call it herself."
Then the people obeyed, and the old woman went
to the corner of the field and began to call, " Come
hither, come hither, my little brownie ! " Then the
calf pricked up its ears and listened, and then it came
running up to the old woman and thrust its nose
against her, and did not even kick her with its feet.
And the muzhiks were glad, and the old woman was
glad, and the calf was glad likewise.
The godson went on further, and thought to him-
self. " I see now that evil multiplies evil. The more
271
Tales from Tolstoi
people pursue evil, the more they spread evil abroad.
It is impossible to remove evil by evil. But how
remove it then ? I know not. It was well that the
calf listened to the old woman ; but if he had not
listened, how then could he have gone out ? "
The godson thought and thought the matter over,
but it was of no use, he could not get to the bottom
of it by thinking, so he went on further.
VIII.
He went on and on, until he came to a village.
He asked for a night's lodging at a wayside hut
The woman who owned the hut was plainly very
poor. There was nothing at all in the hut but the
woman herself, and she was washing.
The godson went in, got on to the stove, and began
to watch what the woman was doing. He watched
and saw that when she had washed the hut, she
began to wash the table. Presently she finished
washing the table, and began wiping it with a dirty
clout. She began to wipe one coiner of it, and the
table would not get clean, for the dirty clout left
long streaks of dirt upon the table. She set to drying
it on the other side, and in wiping off the streaks of
dirt she left others in their place. Then she began
wiping it all over again, with the same result. She
kept smearing it with the dirty clout ; whenever she
wiped off one piece of dirt she left another in its
stead. The godson kept on looking and looking, at
last he spoke.
272
The Godfather
"What art thou doing there, mistress?" said he.
" Canst thou not see ? " said she. " I am making
ready against the feast. I cannot get the table
thoroughly washed by any means it is all dirty. I
weary myself in vain."
" But thou shouldst rinse out thy clout," said he,
"and then thou wouldst be able to clean thy
table."
So she did so, and speedily got the table clean
and dry. " I thank thee for thy teaching," said she.
In the morning the godson took leave of the
woman, and went on further. He went on and on
until he came to a wood, a-nd there he saw some
muzhiks trying to bend a hoop. The godson went
near to look at them, and there were the muzhiks
going round and round, but they could not bend the
hoop. And looking more closely the godson per-
ceived that the block on which they were working
rushed round with them, so that there was no staying
power in it And the godson looked at them, and '
said,
" What do ye, my brethren? "
" We would fain bend this hoop," said they ;
" twice have we brought the ends together, but we
weary ourselves in vain it will not bend."
"But, my brethren, first make fast the block, for
now ye go round with it."
And the muzhiks obeyed him, and made fast the
block, and then the work was easily done.
The godson passed the night with them, and then
went on further. All day and all night he went on,
and just before dawn he came up with some cattle-
373
X
Tales from Tolstoi
dealers. He joined himself to them, and then he saw
that the dealers had let out their cattle to graze, and
were lighting a fire. They took dry branches and
kindled them, but they did not give them time to
burn up, but piled wet twigs on the fire. The twigs
hissed and spluttered, and then the fire went out.
The cattle-dealers took more dry branches, lighted
them, and again piled on wet twigs, and again the
fire died out. For a long time they laboured, and
all to no purpose they could not light the fire.
And the godson said, "Be not over hasty in piling
on the fuel, but first let the fire burn up merrily.
When the flame is clear and strong, then pile on the
fuel. And the cattle-dealers did so; they made the
fire burn up vigorously, and then they piled on the
firewood. The firewood caught, and the whole pile
blazed up. So when the godson had stayed with
them for a while, he went on further. And the god-
son thought and thought to himself to what end he
had seen these three things and he could not under-
stand it
IX.
The godson went on and on, and the day passed
away. He came to a forest, and in this forest was a
cell. The godson went up to the cell and knocked,
and a voice out of the cell cried, " Who is there ? "
" A great sinner," replied the godson. " I go about
to make good the sins of other people."
Then an old man came out of the cell, and said,
274
The Godfather
" What then are these sins of other people that are
laid upon thee ? "
So the godson told him all. He told him of his
godfather, and of the bear and her cubs, and of the
throne in the sealed palace, and of what the god-
father had commanded him to do, and of how he
had seen the muzhiks in the field treading down the
corn, and how the calf came to its mistress of its own
accord.
" I have understood," said he, " that evil cannot
be destroyed by evil ; but I cannot understand how
then it is to be destroyed. Teach me."
And the old man said, "Tell me now what else
thou hast seen on thy way."
And the godson told him of the old woman, and
how she washed, and of the muzhiks, and how they
bent the hoop, and of the herdsmen, and how they
kindled the fire. The old man heard him out,
turned back into his cell, and brought out a wretched,
worn-out little axe. " Let us go ! " said he.
The old man went from his cell along the road,
and pointed to a tree. " Strike ! " said he. The
godson struck away at it, and the tree fell
" Now cut it into three parts."
The godson cut it into three. Then the old man
went back into his cell and brought out fire.
" Burn these three fagots," said he.
The godson kindled a fire and burnt the three pieces
of wood, and three smouldering firebrands remained.
" Bury them half in the earth, like that."
The godson buried them.
' Look now ! at the foot of that mountain is a
275
Tales from Tolstoi
stream; bring thence water in thy mouth and water
them. Water these embers, just as thou didst teach
the old woman. Water it just as thou didst teach
the herdsmen, and water it as thou didst teach the
coopers. When all three shoot up, and three apple-
trees grow out of the charred stumps, then thou
wilt understand how to destroy evil in men ; then
thou wilt be able to redeem sins."
Thus spake the old man, and went back into his
cell. The godson thought and thought, but he could
not understand what the old man said to him. Yet
did he as he was bidden.
X.
The godson went to the river, took a mouthful of
water, poured it forth on the charred brand ; again
and again he watered it thus, and so did he to the
other two. The godson grew exhausted with the
work, and a strong desire to eat came upon him.
He went to the old man's cell to ask for food. He
opened the door, and there the old man lay dead
on his little plank bed. The godson looked around
him. He found hard bread, and he ate thereof ; he
found a spade also, and he began to dig the old man's
grave. At night he drew water and watered the
stumps, and in the daytime he dug at the grave. He
had finished digging out the grave, and was about
to begin the burial, when there came people out of
the village, bringing food for the old man.
The people perceived that the old man was dead,
276
The Godfather
and the godson blessed them in his stead. The
people buried the old man, and left the bread with
the godson nay, they promised to bring him still
more ; and so they departed.
And the godson lived there in the place of the
old man. There lived the godson, and fed himself
with the food that the people brought him; and
he did as he had been bidden, inasmuch as he
brought water in his mouth from the stream, and
watered the charred stumps.
So there the godson lived for a whole year, and
many people resorted to him. And the fame of him
spread abroad, that he was living there in the forest,
a holy man, who was saving his soul, and bringing
water in his mouth from the foot of the mountains
to water the charred stumps. And a multitude of
people resorted to him. Yea, and rich merchants
came there also and brought gifts. But the godson
took nothing for himself but what was necessary,
and what they gave to him he gave away to other
poor people. And thus the godson went on living;
one half of the day he carried water in his mouth to
water the charred stumps, and the other half of the
day he rested, and received those who came to see
him.
And the godson began to think that perchance
he had been bidden to live so, that thereby he might
redeem bad with good, and buy back sins. So the
godson lived after this manner for another year, and
he let not a day pass without watering the stumps,
and yet, for all that, not* one of them began to
sprout
277
Tales from Tolstoi
One day he was sitting in his cell, when he heard
a man coming along on horseback, singing songs.
The godson went out to see what manner of man it
was, and he saw that he was a young man, and
sturdy. The raiment he wore was goodly, and the
horse he sat upon of great price. The godson
stopped him and asked him what manner of man he
was, and whither he was going.
The man stopped. " I am a robber," said he ; "I
go along the roads and slay people, and the more
people I slay the merrier songs I sing."
The godson was horrified, and he thought within
himself, " How is it possible to redeem the evil in
such a man as this? It is good for me to lalk to
those who come to me and repent, but this man
boasts him of the evil." The godson had nothing
to say for himself, but he kept on thinking, " How will
it be now? This man has made it his business to
wander about here, and he will frighten the people,
and they will cease coming to me. It will be no
profit to him, and as for me, how shall I live
also?"
So the godson stopped and spoke to the robber.
" People come hither to me," said he, " not to boast
them of their evil deeds, but to repent of their sins,
and pray for forgiveness. Repent thou, also, if thou
hast any fear of God ; but if thou wilt not repent,
depart hence and never come back again ; disturb
me not, and frighten not the people away from me.
But if thou hearken not unto me, God will punish
thee."
The freebooter began to laugh. " I fear not God,"
278
The Godfather
said he, "and I will not hearken to thee. Thou art
not my master. Thou dost live by thy praying, they
say ; I live by my plundering. We must all live
somehow. Thou art an old woman, and canst teach,
if thou wilt, those that come to thee ; but it is no
good teaching me. And as for thy warnings to me
concerning God, to-morrow I mean to slay two
people whom none will miss. And I would slay thee
now, save that I would not soil my hand. But be-
ware of me in future."
Thus the freebooter threatened, and with that he
rode away. But the freebooter passed no more that
way, and the godson went on living quietly as before
for eight years.
XL
Once the godson went to water his charred stumps
at night, then he returned to his cell to sit down
and rest ; he looked along the narrow footpath, and
fell a-wondering whether it would be long before
people came that way. But not a single person came
by that day. The godson sat there all alone till
evening, and he felt vexed and weary, and began to
ponder over the whole course of his life. And it
occurred to him how the freebooter had reproached
him for living by his praying. And the godson
looked back upon his whole life. " I do not live,"
thought he, "as the old man bade me live. The old
man laid a penance on me, and I make my living
out of it, and glory among men to boot. And so
279
Tales from Tolstoi
perverted am I already, that I feel weary and sad
when the people don't come to me. And when the
people do come to me, I am only glad because they
laud my saintliness. Not so ought I to live. I am
entangled in the meshes of human praise. Instead
of redeeming my former sins, I add new sins to the
old. I will go into the forest, to another place, that
the people may not find me. I will live alone, so
that I may wipe out the old sins, and not saddle
myself with new ones."
Thus thought the godson, and he took his little
sack of biscuits and his spade, and went away from
his cell into the deep ravine, so that he might dig out
for himself a little habitation in the dreary place,
and hide himself from mankind.
So the godson set out with his little bag and his
spade, when lo ! a robber fell upon him. The godson
was frightened ; he would have run away, but the
robber was too quick for him.
" Whither goest thou ? " said he.
Then the godson told him that he wished to get
away from people, and go into a place whither no-
body would follow him ; the robber marvelled greatly.
" But what wilt thou live upon when people no
longer come to thee ? " he asked.
Now the godson had not thought of this before,
but when the robber asked him this question, he
recollected that there was such a thing as food
also.
" I will live upon what God gives me," said he.
The freebooter said nothing, but went on further.
"What is this?" thought the godson. "I said
280
The Godfather
nothing to him concerning his life. What if he
should now bethink him of repenting. It seems as
if he were now a little milder, and he does not
threaten to slay me." And the godson shouted
after the freebooter, " Hearken now ! Above all,
it becomes thee to repent, and not turn away from
God."
The freebooter turned his horse. He drew his
knife from his girdle and shook it at the godson.
The godson was frightened, and ran into the bushes.
But the freebooter did not pursue him ; he only said,
" Twice have I forgiven thee, old man beware of
the third time, for then I will kill thee ! " This he
said, and rode off. In the evening the godson went
to water his stumps, and lo ! one of them was putting
forth shoots. A little apple-tree was growing out
of it.
XII.
So the godson hid himself from men, and lived
alone. One day his biscuits failed him. "Well,"
thought he, "now I must go and seek for roots."
So he arose to seek them, and no sooner had he
done so than he perceived a bag of biscuits hanging
from a bough, and he took and ate. And when these
biscuits were all gone, there came another basketful
on the selfsame bough. So the godson lived on
from day to day. One grief only plagued him
the fear of the freebooter. No sooner did he 'hear a
freebooter coming than he hid himself, " lest he
281
Tales from Tolstoi
should slay me," thought he, "before I have the time
to redeem my sins." Thus he went on living for ten
years. One apple-tree also grew up, but as for the
other two stumps, stumps they remained.
One day the godson rose up early and went to
do his task, moistening the earth round the stump,
and sat him down to rest. There he sat resting,
and he bethought him, "I have sinned, I begin to
fear death ; if God so wills it, I will redeem my sins
by my death." No sooner had he thought this than
he heard something -. it was the robber coming along,
cursing and swearing. The godson listened, and
then he thought, " Save it be God's will, nothing
good or bad can befall me from anyone " and he
went forth to meet the robber. And he saw that
the freebooter was not alone, but was dragging after
him another man, and both the hands and the mouth
of this man were tied up. The man was silent, and
the robber was cursing him. And the godson went
up to the freebooter, and stopped in front of his
horse.
"Whither dost thou carry this man?" said he.
" I am leading him into the forest. He is the son
of a merchant. He will not say where his father's
treasures are hid. I mean to torment him till he
does tell me." And the freebooter would have gone
on, but the godson would not let him, for he seized
the horse by the bridle. The freebooter was very
wroth with the godson, and shook his fist at him.
" Hey ! " cried he, " and dost thou wish the same for
thyself? Hence, or I'll murder thee too, I promise
thee."
The Godfather
But the godson was not afraid. "I will not let
thee go," he cried. " I fear thee not ; God alone I
fear. But God has not commanded me to let thee
go. Release that man, I say."
The robber's brow grew dark ; he drew forth his
knife, cut through the cords, and let go the mer-
chant's son. "Be off, the pair of you," cried he, " for
I'll not spare either if I fall in with you another
time."
Then the son of the merchant bounded to his feet
and ran away. The freebooter also would have gone
on his way, but still the godson held him, and he
began to tell him that he must let go his evil life
likewise. The freebooter stopped and listened to
all he said, then he went away, but never a word
spake he.
In the morning the godson went to water his tree-
stumps. And lo ! the second one also had sent forth
shoots, and a little apple-tree was growing out of
it
XIII.
Another ten years passed by. Again the godson
was sitting down alone. He desired nothing, he was
afraid of nothing, and his heart was joyful within
him. And the godson thought within himself, " How
gracious God is to men, and yet they vex themselves
about nothing. Why are trley not content to live,
and be happy in living ? " And he began reflecting
on all the evil deeds of men, and how they torment
themselves. And he felt sorry for his fellow-men.
283
Tales from Tolstoi
" Living thus, I live in vain," thought he ; " I will
go and tell the people what I know."
And while he was thus thinking, he heard some-
thing, and listened ; it was the freebooter passing
by. He let him pass by, and said to himself, " What
can I say to him ? he will not understand." Thus he
thought at first, but presently he thought better of it,
and went forth into the road. The freebooter was
going moodily along, and his eyes were cast down to
the ground. The godson looked at him and felt
sorry, so he ran up to him and caught him by the
knee.
" Dear brother," cried he, " have compassion on
thy poor soul. Look now ! the spirit of God is within
thee, and yet thou dost torment thyself, and dost tor-
ment others, and wilt torment thyself yet more. But
God loves thee, and of His merciful goodness there
is no end ! Do not ruin thyself, my brother ! Change
thy life!"
The robber looked darker than ever. He turned
away. " Be off !" cried he.
But the godson caught the freebooter still more
tightly round the knee, and burst into tears. The
freebooter raised his eyes and fixed them on the
godson. He looked and looked, dismounted from
his horse, and fell down on his knees before the
godson.
" Old man ! " cried he, " thou hast conquered me.
Twenty years have I striven with thee, and thou
hast prevailed against me. I have now no power
over myself. Do with me as it seemeth best to thee.
When thou didst persuade me for the first time,"
284
The Godfather
continued he, " I was only more wroth than ever with
thee. Only then did I begin to ponder over thy
words when thou didst withdraw thyself from men,
and I understood that thou hadst no need of aught
from them. And from thenceforth I began to hang
up biscuits for thee on the boughs."
And the godson called to mind that the old woman
was only able to wash the tables when she had well
wrung out the clout. He had only ceased to worry
about himself when he had cleansed his heart and
began to cleanse the hearts of others.
And the freebooter said moreover, " Only then
did my heart begin to turn within me, when thou
didst not fear death."
And the godson called to mind that only then did
the coopers succeed in bending the hoop when they
had made fast the block ; and he had only ceased
to fear death when he had made firm his life in God,
and had subdued his stubborn heart.
And the freebooter said moreover, " But my heart
only melted altogether within me when thou hadst
compassion upon me, and didst begin to weep over
me."
Then the godson rejoiced greatly. And he took
the freebooter along with him to the place where
were the stumps of the tree. Thither they went,
and lo ! a little apple-tree had shot up also out of the
last of the stumps. And then the godson called to
mind that only then had the damp wood of the ox-
herds burnt up when they had kindled a great fire ;
only when his own heart had kindled within him
had he made the heart of this other burn also.
Tales from Tolstoi
And the godson rejoiced greatly at the thought
that now he had bought back sins.
All this he told to the freebooter, and then he
died. But the freebooter buried him, and began to
live as the godson bade him live, and so he taught
the people.
THE END.
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One Hundred and Fifth Thousand.
WE THREE AND TRODDLES.
A Comic Sketch of London Life. With Silhouette
Illustrations by A. CARRUTHERS GOULD.
Forty-Fourth Thousand.
TRODDLES AND US AND OTHERS.
A Sequel to We Three and Troddles. With Silhouette
Illustrations by C. HARRISON.
THE BURGLINGS OF TUTT. Seventeenth Thousand.
Some Exploits in the Life of an Expert. With Forty
Illustrations by Louis GUNNIS.
MARTHA AND I. Sixty-Second Thousand.
Being Scenes from our Suburban Life. With Sixty- One
Silhouette Illustrations by A. CARRUTHERS GOULD.
THE IDENTITY EXCHANGE. Seventeenth Thousand.
A Story of some Odd Transformations. With Silhouette
Illustrations by C. HARRISON.
Twenty-Seventh Thousand.
THE CRUISE OF THE "MOCK TURTLE."
A Story of Lively Adventures Ashore and Afloat. With
Fifty-Four Illustrations by HARRY EVANS.
THE MAGIC BOWL. Just Published.
With Fifty Illustrations by Louis GUNNIS.
LONDON: JARROLD & SONS, 10&11, WARWICK LANK, E.G.
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