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MBBBtlRtattfUa 


UNtV  -.;JTY  OP 
CALiPOANlA 

SAN  DIEGO 


TALES   FROM    TOLSTOI 


JARROLD   &   SONS' 

SHILLING  NOVELS. 

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i.    WE    THREE     &     TRODDLES 

R.    Andom 

a.    THE    MYSTERY     OF    A    HAN- 
SOM   CAB.  Fergus  Hume. 

3.  THE    GREEN     BOOK. 

Maurus  Jokai. 

4.  GILES'S  yTRIP    TO    LONDON. 

5.  VALENTINE.  Curtis  Yorke. 

6.  'MIDST      THE      WILD      CAR- 
PATHIANS. Maurus  Jokai. 

Other  titles  in  preparation. 

JARROLDS' 

EMPIRE     LIBRARY. 

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pictorial  wrapper. 

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i.     BLACK  BEAUTY.     Anna  Sewell. 

z.    THE      ADVENTURES      OF     A 
SIBERIAN    CUB  A.  Slivitski. 

3.  TALES     FROM     TOLSTOI. 

Leo  Tolstoi. 

4.  BEAUTIFUL    JOE. 

Marshall  Saunders. 
Other  titles  in  preparation. 

JARROLD    &    SONS, 
10  &  ii,  Warwick  Lane,  London,  E.G. 


TALES  FROM  TOLSTOI 


TRANSLATED  FROM  THE  RUSSIAN  BY 

R.    NISBET    BAIN 


•AM  rron  rr 

{ANlKtMOCHC 


LONDON 

JARROLD  ft  SONS,  10  &  u,  WARWICK   LANE,  B.C. 
[All  Rights  Reserved] 


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  stretched1  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  snowt  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. 

25 


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 


Master1  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 

59 


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. 

60 


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." 

61 


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. 
62 


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 

63 


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 
64 


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 

69 


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, 

73 


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, 

74 


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. 

75 


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 

76 


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, 

77 


Tales  from  Tolstoi 

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. 


79 


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 

81 


Tales  from  Tolstoi 

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." 

82 


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 

83 


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 

84 


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 


Tales  from  Tolstoi 

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 

88 


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 

89 


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 

90 


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 

91 


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. 

92 


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" 

93 


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. 

94 


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 

95 


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 
96 


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. 

97 

K 


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 

98 


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 

99 


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 

100 


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! 

lor 


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." 

103 


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 

104 


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, 
109 


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 

121 


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. 
129 


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. 
140 


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 

149 


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. 

153 


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 

J53 


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. 
155 


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; 

156 


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 
159 


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'ka»butVan'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." 

165 


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  strong1  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. 

I67 


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. 

169 


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. 

170 


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. 

171 


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. 

172 


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 

173 


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 


Two  Old  Men 

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. 
176 


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. 
177 

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 

178 


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?  " 

179 


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. 

180 


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 

181 


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." 

182 


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. 
'83 


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. 
184 


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. 


185 


Tales  from  Tolstoi 


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?  " 


187 


Tales  from  Tolstoi 


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 
189 


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 
190 


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 

191 


Tales  from  Tolstoi 

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. 

192 


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 

'93 

Q 


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." 

194 


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 
195 


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. 


196 


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. 
I97 


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 

198 


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 

199 


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,  and1  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!" 


200 


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." 

201 


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." 

202 


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." 

203 


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 

204 


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." 

205 


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, 
206 


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 

207 


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. 
208 


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 

R 


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" 

310 


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?" 

213 


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. 
214 


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 
217 


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." 

218 


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, 
219 


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?" 

220 


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 

222 


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 

223 


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 

224 


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 

326 


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 

233 


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 

234, 


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, 

239 


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." 

261 


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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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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