'i^mM^mm^0s ?:^; ^^^M^ ^£mM£^^M ^, "^^M S^;^?irF^ ^ Narodnom Obrazovanii). m5^97206 VI PREFACE. phy, all of these fifteen tales were written as tracts for the people, illustrated in many cases with quaint wood-cuts. This form of composition was very likely suggested to Count Tolstoi by the popular tales that have been in vogue in Russia for three or four hundred years. . Such, for example, is the fifteenth-century " Story of Vasarga the Merchant," in which the child Mudro- muisl, or Wise Thought, solves the riddles of the wicked Tsar Nesmian. This grim but dull-minded tyrant treats Dmitri Vasarga hospitably ; but when the guest, in reply to his question, "What is thy religion?'* doughtily replies, "I am of the Christian religion, of the city of Kief, the little merchant Dmitri; and I believe in one God, — Father, Son, and Holy Ghost," he is given one of these choices : to adopt the false religion of the grim tsar, and have great honor ; to solve three riddles, or, if he fail to solve the riddles, and still stand firm, to go to prison, and starve to death. It is Mudro-muisl who saves his father's wealth and health. He puts the t3Tant to shame, is elected to the throne by a vote of the people, who were Christian at heart in spite of their tsar, and, having released from the noisome dungeon the three hundred and thirty starving merchants who had been time to their faith, he establishes free trade, and becomes a prosperous and admirable prince, — a most suggestive and inspiring story for any nation that had lurking desires for democracy. Its moral is simply this : that PREFACE. Vii the mler of a country, even though he be fortified on the throne with wealth and power, is, nevertheless, at the mercy of a little child who has the wit to control and utilize the sentiment of the whole people. The story of Vasarga is four centuries old, and Russia has not even a constitution. Will Count Tols- toi's theories of non-resistance and communism, of the blessings of poverty and service, be in practice four hundred years hence ? These stories will be regarded both seriously and as curiosities, for it is impossible not to read between the lines. The only wonder is, that the censor who forbade "My Religion'' should have allowed the skazka entitled "Ivdn Durdk." The implication of criticism on the whole military system of Russia is not even covert. The question of regicide is plainly discussed in '* A Candle." Though regicide itself is condemned, it is not dubious who is meant by the priMshchik of the story. Count Tolstoi's whole sys- tem of philosophy is concretely revealed m these alle- gorical tales : it is not necessary here to discuss the strength or weakness of his logic. But there are few who will not be touched by the moral which Count Tolstoi conveys by means of these curious tales. In the translation of these stories, no attempt has been made to make smooth, easy reading : the effort has been rather to reproduce the crisp, sharp staccato of the Russian. When Count Tolstoi says. On shoU shol, the rendering is, He went, went; and the delib- Vlll PREFACE. erate mixture of tenses, past and present, has been pretty carefully followed, so far as the rhythm of translation allowed. Thus a certain flavor of the original has, it is hoped, been retained ; though, of course, the style is crabbed, and will very likely invite criticism. The translator was confronted with the puzzling question of the use of Russian words in the text. The use of some words Is certainly justified. Muzhik, or moujic, izbd, samo- var, vodka, dvornik, and others, have been utilized so much in all works on Russia, that it would be affecta- tion to translate them into peasant, hut, or cottage, tea-urn, brandy, hall-servant, or hostler. In other cases, a Russian word not difficult to pronounce stands for several words ; as khozydin for master of the house, baba for peasant-woman. So with diminutives ; bdtiushka is easier to say than little grandfather. Moreover, as in all Scotch stories, Scotch words are freely used, and unquestionably to advantage ; so the moderate use of Russian words seems to be needed, especially where there is no exact equivalent. Thus, in the curious story, " The Godson," it seemed absurd to go on calling an old man a godson. The Russian word kr^stnilc is so near like our christened, having a like derivation, that it was adopted without much hesi- tation. A glossary of all the words employed in the text may not be found amiss. For the sake of some reader, who may like a little stronger flavor of the original, certain words and expressions are referred to PREFACE. IX in foot-notes, especially where the same original is ren- dered in different ways. In nearly all cases the stress is indicated by accent-mark. Vowels have continental pronunciation. Y before a vowel makes a diphthong, as in L-yof, NATHAN HASKELL DOLE. New York, June 1, 1887. CONTENTS. PAGB ^THE DEATH OF IVAN ILYITCH .... 1 IF YOU NEGLECT THE FIRE, YOU DON'T PUT IT OUT 91 WHERE LOVE IS, THERE GOD IS ALSO . . 112 A CANDLE . . . 129 TWO OLD MEN 142 TEXTS FOR WOOD-CUTS: — The Devil's persistent, but God is resistant, 178 Little Girls wiser than Old Men . . .181 Two Brothers and Gold 184 ILYAS 187 THE THREE MENDICANTS . . . . .194 POPULAR LEGENDS:— How THE Little Devil earned a Crust op Bread 204 The Repentant Sinner 208 A Seed as Big as a Hen's Egg . . . .211 Does a Man need Much Land? . . . .215 THE GODSON 236 SKAZKA (Ivan the Fool) 266 GLOSSARY 311 xi THE DEATH OP IVAN ILYITCH. (1884-1886.) In the great hall of justice, while the proceedings in the Melvinsky suit were at a standstill, the members of the board and the prokuror held a re-union in Ivan Yegorovitch Shebek's private room, and the conversa- tion turned on the famous Krasovsky suit. Feodor Vasily^vitch talked himself into a passion in pointing out the men's innocence ; Ivan Yegorovitch maintained his side ; but Piotr Ivanovitch, who had not entered into the discussion at first, took no part in it even now, and continued to fix his eyes on the copy of the Vy4domosti which had just been handed to him. '* Gentlemen I " said he, " so Ivdn Ilyitch is dead ! '* " You don't say so ! " *' Here ! read for yourself," said he to Feodor Vasil- y^vitch, handing him the paper, which had not yet lost its odor of freshness. Heavy black lines enclosed these printed words : " Praskovia Feodorovna Golovina, with heartfelt sor- row, announces to relatives and friends the death of her beloved husband, Ivan Ilyitch Golovin, member of the Court of Appeal,^ who departed this life on the 1 Sudyibnaya Paldta. 2 THE DEATH OF IVAN ILYITCH. 16th February, 1882. The funeral will take place on Friday, at one o'clock in the afternoon." Ivan Ilyitch had been the colleague of the gentlemen there assembled, and all liked him. He had been ill for several weeks, and it was said that his case was in- curable. His place was kept vacant for him ; but it had been decided, that, in case of his death, Aleksy^ef might be assigned to his place, while either Vinnikof or Shtabel would take Aleksy^ef's place. And so, on hearing of Ivan Ilyitch 's death, the first thought of each of the gentlemen gathered in the cabinet was in regard to the changes and promotions which might be brought about, among the members of the council and their acquaintances, in consequence of this death. " Now, surely, I shall get either Shtabel' s or Vinni- kof 's place," was Feodor Vasilyevitch's thought. " It has been promised me for a long time ; and this pro- motion will mean an increase in my salary of eight hundred rubles, not to mention allowances." ' ' I must propose right away to have my brother-in- law transferred from Kaluga," thought Piotr Ivano- vitch. " My wife will be very glad. Now it will be impossible for her to say that I have never done any thing for her relations." "I have been thinking that he wouldn't get up again," said Piotr Ivanovitch aloud. " It is too bad." " But what was the matter with him? " " The doctors could not determine. That is to say, they determined it, but each in his own way. When I saw him the last time, it seemed to me that he was get- ting better. But I haven't been to see him since the Christmas holidays. I kept meaning to go." " Did he have any property? " " His wife had a little, I think. But a mere pittance." THE DEATH OF IVAN ILYITCH. 3 " Well, we must go to see her. They live a fright- ful distance off." '' That is, from you. Every thing is far from you ! " " Now, see here ! He can't forgive me because I live on the other side of the river," said Piotr Ivano- vitch to Shebek, with a smile. And then they talked about the long distances in cities, till the recess was over. Over and above the considerations caused by the death of this man, in regard to the mutations and possi- ble changes in the court that might result from it, the very fact of the death of an intimate friend aroused in all who knew about it, as is ordinarily the case, a feeling of pleasure that " it is he, and not I, who am dead." Each one said to himself, or felt, *' Well, he is dead, and I am not." The intimate acquaintances, the so- called friends, of Ivan Ilyitch involuntarily had these thoughts, and, also, that now it was incumbent upon them to fulfil the very melancholy duty of etiquette, in going to the funeral, and paying a visit of condolence to the widow. Feodor Vasily^vitch and Piotr Ivanovitch had been more intimate with him than the others. Piotr Ivanovitch had been his fellow in the law- school, and considered that he was under obligations to Ivdn Ilyitch. Having, at dinner-time, informed his wife of Ivan Ilyitch's death, and his reflections as to the possibility of his brother-in-law's transfer into their circle, Piotr Ivanovitch, not stopping to rest, put on his dress-coat, and drove off to Ivan Ilyitch's. At the door of Ivan Ilyitch's residence stood a car- riage and two izvoshchiks. At the foot of the stairs in the hallway by the hat-rack, pushed back against 4 THE DEATH OF IVAN ILYITCH. the wall, was the brocaded coffin-cover, with tassels full of purified powered camphor. Two ladies in black were taking off their shubkas. One whom he knew was Ivan Ilyitch's sister: the other lady he did not know. Piotr Ivanovitch's colleague, Schwartz, was just coming down-stairs ; and, as he recognized the new- comer, he stopped on the upper step, and winked at him as much as to say, " Ivan Ilyitch was a bad manager : you and I understand a thing or two.'* Schwartz's face, with its English side- whiskers, and his spare figure under his dress-coat, had, as always, an elegant solemnit}^ ; and this solemnity, which was for- ever contradicted by Schwartz's jovial nature, here had a peculiar piquancy, so Piotr Ivanovitch thought. Piotr Ivanovitch gave precedence to the ladies, and slowly followed them up-stairs. Schwartz did not make any move to descend, but waited at the landing. Piotr Ivanovitch understood his motive. Without doubt, he wanted to make an appointment for playing cards that evening. The ladies mounted the stairs to the widow's room ; and Schwartz, with lips gravely com- pressed and firm, and with mischievous eyes, indicated to Piotr Ivanovitch, by the motion of his brows, the room at the right, where the dead man was. Piotr Ivanovitch entered, having that feeling of un- certainty, ever present under such circumstances, as to what would be the proper thing to do. But he knew that the sign of the cross never came amiss. As to whether he ought to make a salutation or not, he was not quite sure ; and he therefore took a middle course. As he went into the room, he began to cross himself, and, at the same time, he made an almost impercepti- ble inclination. As far as he was permitted by the motion of his hands and head, he took in the appear- THE DEATH OF IVAN ILYITCH. 5 ance of the room. Two 3'oung men, apparently neph- ews, — one, agymnazist, — were just leaving the room, making the sign of the cross. An old woman was standing motionless ; and a lady, with strangely' arched eyebrows, was saying something to her in a whisper. A hearty-looking, energetic sacristan^ in a frock was reading something with an expression that forbade all objection. The dining-room muzhik, Gerasim, was sprinkling something on the floor, passing slowly in front of Fiotr Ivanovitch. As he noticed this, Piotr Ivanovitch immediately became cognizant of a slight odor of decomposition. Piotr Ivanovitch, at his last call upon Ivan Ilyitch, had seen this muzhik in the library. He was perform- ing the duties of nurse, and Ivan Ilyitch was extremely fond of him. Piotr Ivanovitch kept crossing himself, and bowing impartially toward the corpse, the sacristan, and the ikons that stood on a table in the corner. Then, when it seemed to him that he had made too many signs of the cross with his hand, he stopped short, and began to gaze at the corpse. The dead man lay in the drapery of the coffin, as dead men always lie, a perfectly lifeless weight, abso- lutely unconscious, with stiffeoed limbs, with head for- ever at rest on the pillow ; and, like every corpse, his brow was like yellow wax, with spots on the sunken temples, and his nose so prominent as almost to press down upon the upper lip. He had greatly changed, and was far more emaciated than when Piotr Ivanovitch had last seen him ; but, as in the case of all the dead, his face was more beautiful, especially more dignified, than it had been when he was 1 IHatchdk. 6 THE DEATH OF IVAN ILYITCH. alive. On his face was an expression signifying that what he was required to do, that he had done, and had done it in due form. Besides this, there was in his expression a reproach or warning to the living. This warning seemed ill-judged to Piotr Ivanovitch, or at least was not applicable to him. There was some- thing displeasing in it ; and therefore Piotr Ivanovitch again crossed himself hastil}', and, it seemed to him, too hastily, in an absurdly indecorous manner, turned around, and left the room. Schwartz was waiting for him in the next chamber, standing with legs wide apart, and with both hands behind his back twirling his tall hat. Piotr Ivanovitch was cheered by the first glance at Schwartz's jovial, tidy, elegant figure. Piotr Ivanovitch comprehended that Schwartz was superior to these things, and did not give way to these harassing impressions. His ap- pearance alone said. The incident of Iv^n Ilyitch's funeral should never serve as a suflBcient reason for breaking into the order of exercises of the session ; that is to say, nothing should hinder them that very evening from undoing and shuffling a pack of cards while the servant was putting down four fresh candles : as a general rule, there is no occasion to presuppose that this incident should prevent them from having a good time that evening, as well as any other. He even said this in a whisper to Piotr Ivanovitch, and proposed that they meet for a game at Feodor Vasily^vitch's. But it will be seen that it was not Piotr Ivanovitch's fate to play cards till late that evening. Praskovia Feodorovna, a short woman, and stout in spite of all her efforts to the contrary, for her figure grew constantly wider and wider from her shoulders down, dressed in full mourning, with lace on her head, . THE DEATH OF IVAN ILYITCH. 7 and with the same extraordinary arched eyebrows as the lady who had been standing by the coffin, came out from her rooms with other ladies ; and as she passed them at the door of the death-chamber, she said, '' Mass will take place immediately. Please come in." Schwartz, making a slight, indefinite bow, stood still, evidently undecided whether to accept or to decline this proposition. Praskovia Feodorovna, as soon as she recognized Piotr Ivanovitch, sighed, came quite close to him, took him by the hand, and said, ''I know that you were a true friend of Ivan Ilyitch's;'* and she fixed her eyes upon him, awaiting his action to respond to her words. Piotr Ivanovitch knew, that, just as in the other case it had been incumbent upon him to make the sign of the cross, so here he must press her hand, sigh, and say, '' Why, certainly." And so he did. And having done so, he realized that the desired result was obtained, — that he was touched, and she was touched. " Come," said the widow : ** before it begins, I must have a talk witli you. Give me 3'our arm." Piotr Ivanovitch offered her his arm ; and they walked along to the inner rooms, passing by Schwartz, who winked compassionately at Piotr Ivanovitch. His jovial glance said, '' It's all up with your game of vint; but don't be concerned, we'll find another part- ner. We'll cut in when you get through." Piotr Ivanovitch sighed still more deeply and griev- ously, and Praskovia Feodorovna pressed his arm grate- fully. When they entered her parlor, which had hangings of rose-colored cretonne, and was dimly lighted by a lamp, they sat down near a table, — she on a sofa, but 8 THE DEATH OF IVAN ILYITCE. , Piotr Ivanovitch on a low ottoman,^ the springs of which were out of order, and yielded unevenly under his weight. Praskovia Feodorovna wanted to suggest to him to take another chair ; but to make such a sug- gestion seemed out of place in her situation, and she gave it up. As he sat down on the ottoman, Piotr Ivanovitch remembered how, when Ivdn Ilyitch was decorating that parlor, he had asked his opinion about this very same rose-colored cretonne, with its green leaves. As the widow passed by the table in going to the divan, — the whole^ parlor was crowded with orna- ments and furniture, — she caught the black lace of her black mantilla on the wood-work. Piotr Ivdnovitch got up, in order to detach it ; and the ottoman, freed from his weight, began to shake and jostle him. The widow herself was busy disengaging her lace ; and Piotr Ivdn- ovitch sat down again, flattening out the ottoman which had rebelled under him. But still the widow could not get free, and Piotr Ivdnovitch again arose ; and again the ottoman rebelled, and even creaked. When all this was arranged, she took out a clean cambric handkerchief, and began to weep. The episode with the lace and the struggle with the ottoman had thrown a chill over Piotr Ivdnovitch, and he sat with a frown. This awkward situation was interrupted by Sokolof , Ivdn llyitch's butler, with the announcement that the lot in the graveyard, which Praskovia Feodor- ovna had selected, would cost two hundred rubles. She ceased to weep, and, with the air of a martyr, looked at Piotr Ivdnovitch, saying in French that it was very trying for her. Piotr Ivdnovitch made a silent gesture, signifying his undoubted belief that this was inevitable. THE DEATH OF IVAN TLYITCH. 9 " Smoke, I beg of you ! " she said, with a voice ex- pressive of magnanimity as well as melancholy. And she discussed with Sokolof the price of the lot. As Piotr Ivanovitch began to smoke, he overheard her very circumstantially inquiring into the various prices of land, and finally determine upon the one which it suited her to purchase. When she had set- tled upon the lot, she also gave her orders in regard to the singers. Sokolof withdrew. ''I attend to every thing myself," she said to Piotr Ivdnovitch, moving to one side the albums that lay on the table ; and then, noticing that the ashes were about to fall on the table, she hastened to hand Piotr Ivdno- vitch an ash-tray, and continued, — '' It would be hypocritical for me to declare that grief prevents me from attending to practical affairs. On the contrary, though it cannot console me, yet it may divert my mind from my troubles." Again she took out her handkerchief, as though pre- paring to weep ; and suddenly, as though making an effort over herself, she shook herself, and began to- speak calmly : — *^ At all events, I have some business with you." Piotr Ivdnovitch bowed, not giving the springs of the ottoman a chance to rise up against him, since only the moment before they had been misbehaving under him. '-^ During the last days, his sufferings were terrible." '' He suffered very much? " asked Piotr Ivdnovitch. " Akh ! terribly ! During his last, not moments, but hours he did not cease to shriek. For three days and nights he shrieked all the time. It was unendurable. I cannot understand how I stood it. You could hear him through three doors 1 Akh ! how I suffered ! " 10 THE DEATH OF fVAN ILYITCH. "And was he in his senses?'* asked Piotr Ivdno- viteh. " Yes," she said in a whisper, " to the last moment. He bade us farewell a quarter of an hour before he died, and even asked us to send Volodia out." The thought of the sufferings of a man whom he had known so intimately, first as a jolly child ^ and school- bo3% and then in adult life as his colleague, suddenly filled Piotr Iv^novitch with terror in spite of the un- pleasant sense of this woman's hypocrisy and his own. Once more he saw that forehead, that nose nipping on the lip, and he felt frightened for himself. "Three days and nights of horrible sufferings and death ! Perhaps this may happen to me also, instantly, at any moment," he said to himself. And for an instant he felt panic-stricken. But immediatelj', though he himself knew not how, there came to his aid the common idea, that as this had happened to Ivdn Ilyitch, and not to him, therefore such a thing had no busi- ness to happen to him, and could not be possible ; that as he thought so, he had fallen into a melancholy frame of mind, which was a fooUsh thing to do, as was evi- dent by Schwartz's face. In the course of these reflections, Piotr Ivdnovitch became calm, and began with interest to ask for the details of Iv^n Ilyitch's decease, as though death were some accident peculiar to Ivan Ilyitch alone, and abso- lutely remote from himself. After speaking at greater or less length of the de- tails of the truly terrible physical sufferings endured by Ivdn Ilyitch, — Piotr Ivdnovitch listened to these details simply because Praskovia Feodorovna's nerves had been affected by her husband's sufferings, — the 1 Malchik. THE DEATH OF IVAN ILYITCH. 11 widow evidently felt that it was time to come to the pomt. '' Akh ! Piotr Ivdnovitch ! how painful ! how horri- bly painful! how horribly painful!" and again the tears began to flow. Piotr Ivdnovitch sighed, and waited till she had blown her nose. When she had blown her nose, he said, " Believe me" . . . And again the springs of her speech were unloosed, and she ex- plained what was apparently her chief object in seeing him : this matter concerned the problem of how she should make her husband's death secure her funds from the treasury. She pretended to ask Piotr Ivanovitch's advice about a pension ; but he clearl}- saw that she had already mastered the minutest points, even those that he himself knew not, in the process of extracting from the treasury the greatest possible amount in case of death. But what she wanted to find out, was whether it were not possible to become the recipient of still more money. Piotr Ivdnovitch endeavored to devise some means to this effect ; but having pondered a little, and out of politeness condemned our government for its niggardli- ness, he said that it seemed to him impossible to obtain more. Then she sighed, and evidently began to de- vise some means of getting rid of her visitor. He understood, put out his cigarette, arose, pressed her hand, and passed into the ante-room. In the dining-room, where stood the clock that Ivdn llyitch had taken such delight in, when he purchased it at a bnc-d,-brac shop, Piotr Ivdnovitch met the priest and a few more acquaintances who had come to the funeral ; and he recognized Ivdn Ilyitch's daughter, a pretty young lady, whom he knew. She was in full mourning. Her very slender figure seemed more slen- 12 THE DEATH OF IVAN TLYITCH. der than usual. She had an appearance of melancholy, determination, almost of irritation. She bowed to Piotr Ivanovitch as though he were in some way to blame. Behind the daughter, with the same melan- choly look, stood a rich 3'oung magistrate ^ of Piotr Ivanovitch's acquaintance, who, as he heard, was her betrothed. He bowed to them disconsolately, and was about to pass into the death-chamber, when he saw com- ing'up the stairs the slender form of Ivdn Ilyitch's son, — a gymnasium student, and a striking image of Ivdn llyitch. It was the same little \\(\n Ilyitch whom Piotr Ivanovitch remembered at the law-school. His eyes were wet with tears, and had the faded appear- ance common to unhealthy boys of thirteen or four- teen. The boy, upon seeing Piotr Ivdnovitch, started rudely and awkwardly to draw back. Piotr Ivdnovitch nodded at him, and entered the death-chamber. The mass had begun : there were candles, groans, incense, tears, and sobs. Piotr Ivdnovitch stood looking gloom- ily at his feet. He did not once glance at the C9rpse, and to the end did not yield to the softening influ- ences ; and he was one of the first to leave. There was no one in the ante-room. Gerasim, the butler,'-^ rushed from the dead man's late room, tossed about all the fur robes with his strong hands, in order to find Piotr Ivanovitch's shuba, and handed it to him. " Well, brother Gerasim," said Piotr Ivanovitch, so as to say something, " it's too bad, isn't it? " " God's will. We shall all be there," said Gerasim, showing his close, white, peasant's teeth ; and, like a man earnestly engaged in some great work, he opened the door with alacrity, called the coachman, helped Piotr Ivanovitch into the carriage, and then hastened 1 Sudyebnui slyedovatyel. ^ Bufetnui muzhik. THE DEATH OF IVAN ILYITCH. 13 back up the front steps, as though anxious to find something ielse to do. Jt was particularly agreeable to Piotr Ivdnovitch to breathe the fresh air, after the odor of the incense, of the dead body, and the carbolic acid. '' Where shall I drive to? " asked the coachman. '' It's not too late. I'll go to Feodor Vasily^vitch, after all." And Piotr Ivdnovitch drove off. And, in fact, he found them just finishing the first rubber, so that it was convenient for him to cut in. 14 THE DEATH OF IVAN ILYITCH. II. The history of Ivan Ilyitch's past life was most sim- ple and uneventful, and yet most terrible. Ivdn Ilyitch died at the age of forty-five, a member of the Court of Justice. He was the sou of a tchinov- nik, who had followed, in various ministries and de- partments at Petersburg, a career such as brings men into a position from which, on account of their long service and their rank, they are never turned adrift, even though it is plainly manifest that their actual usefulness is at an end ; and consequently they obtain imaginary, fictitious places, and from six to ten thou- sand that are not fictitious, on which they live till a good old age. Such wts Ilya Yefimovitch Golovin, privy councillor, the useless member of various useless commissions. He had three sons : Ivan Ilyitch was the second son. The eldest had followed the same career as his father's, but in a different ministry, and was already nearing that period of his service in which inertia carries a man into emoluments. The third son had made a flash in the pan. He had failed completely in several posi- tions, and he was now connected with railroads ; and his father and brothers not only disliked to meet him, but, except when it was absolutely' necessary, even forgot that he existed. A sister was married to Baron Gref, who, like his father-in-law, was a Petersburg tchinovnik. Ivan li- THE DEATH OF IVAN ILYITCH. 15 yitch was le plienix de lafamille^ as they used to say. He was neither as chilly and accurate as the eldest brother, nor as unpromising as the youngest. He held the golden mean between them, — an intelligent, lively, agreeable, and polished man. He had studied at the law-school with his youuger brother. The younger did not graduate, but was expelled from the fifth class ; but Ivdn Iljitch finished his course creditably. At the law- school, he showed the same characteristics by which he was afterwards distinguished all his life : he was capable, good-natured even to gayety, and socia- ble, but strictly fulfilling all that he considered to be his duty : duty, in his opinion, was all that is considered to be such by men in the highest station. He was not one to curry favor, either as a boy, or afterwards in manhood : but from his earliest years he had been at- tracted by men in the highest station in society, just as a fly is by the light ; ^ he adopted their ways, their views of life, and entered into relations of friendship with them. All the inclinations of childhood and youth had passed away, not leaving serious scars. He gd^^e way to sensuality and vanity, and, toward the last of his life, to the higher forms of liberality, but all within the proper limits which his nature faithfully prescribed for him. He had, at the law-school, taken part in certain actions, which, at the time, seemed to him low, and, even while he was engaged in them, aroused in him deep scorn for himself. But afterwards, finding that these things nad been done by men ot high position, and were not considered by them disgraceful, he came to regard them, not indeed as worthy, but put them entirely out of his mind, and was not in the least troubled by the recollection of them. * In lluBBian, the word for light and society is the same. 16 THE DEATH OF IVAN ILYITCH. When Ivdn llyiicli had graduated from the law- school with the tenth rank,^ and received from his father some monej- for his uniform, he ordered a suit of Scharmer, added to his trinkets the little medal with the legend respice Jinem^ bade the prince and principal farewell, ate a dinner with his schoolmates at Donon's, and furnished with new and stylish trunk, linen, uni- form, razors, and toilet articles, and a plaid, ordered or bought at the very best shops, he departed for the l)rovince, through his father's recommendation, in the capacity of tchinovnik, with a special message to the governor. In the province, Ivdn Ilyitch at once got himself into the same sort of easy and agreeable position as his position in the law-school had been. He attended to his duties, pressed forward in his career, and at the same time enjoyed life in a cheerful and circum- spect manner. From time to time, delegated by his chiefs, he visited tlie districts, bore himself with dig- nity toward ])oth his superiors and subordinates, and, without overweening conceit, fulfilled with punctuality and incorruptible integrity the duties imposed upon him, pre-eminently in the affair of the i-askolniks.*^ Notwithstanding his youth, and his tendency to be gay and easy-going, he was, in matters of state, tlioroughly discreet, and carried his official reserve even to sternness. But in society he was often merry ' That is, as Kolly^zhski Sekretar, corresponding to Shtaps-Kapitan in the army : the next rank in the Tchin would be titular councillor, — titul- yarnui Sovyetnik, — which confers personal nobiiity. 2 Dissenters. The first body of raskolniks, called the " Old Believers," arose in the time of the Patriarch Nikon, who, in 1654, revised the Scriptures. A quarrel as to the number of fingers to be used in giving the blessing, and the manner of spelling Jesus, seems to have been the chief cause of the raskolt or schism. The Greek Church has uow to contend with a host of different forms of dissent. — N. H. D. THE DEATH OF IVAN ILYITCH. 17 and witty, and always good-natured, polite, and bon evfant,^ as he was called by his chief and his chief's wife, at whose house he was intimate. While he was in the province, he had maintained relations with one of those ladies who are ready to jQing themselves into the arms of an elegant young lawyer. There was also a dressmaker ; and there were occasional sprees with visiting fliigel-adjutants, and visits to some out-of-the-way street after supper : but all dissipation of this sort was attended with such a high tone, that it could not be qualified by hard names ; it all squared with the rubric of the French expression, Ilfaiit que jeunesse se passe. ^ All was done with clean hands, with clean linen, with French words, and, above all, in company with the very highest society, and therefore with the appro- bation of those high in rank. In this way, Ivan Ilyitch served five years, and a change was instituted in the service. The new tribu- nals were established : new men were needed. And Ivan Ilyitch was chosen as one of the new men. Iv^n Ilyitch was offered the position of examining magistrate ; ^ and IvAn Ilyitch accepted it, notwith- standing the fact that this place was in another gov- ernment, and that he would be obliged to give up the connections that he had formed, and form new ones. IvAn Ilyitch's friends saw him off. They were photographed in a group : they presented him a silver cigarette-case, and he departed for his new post. As an examining magistrate, Ivdn Ilyitch was just * In French in the original. 2 "A man must sow his wild oats." 3 Sndytbnui Slyedovatyel : see Anatole Leroy Beaulieu's L'Empire des Tsars, vol. ii. 18 THE DEATH OF IVAN ILYITCH. as comme il faut, just as circumspect, and careful to sunder tlie obligations of his office from his private life, and as successful in winning universal considera- tion, as when he was a tchinovnik with special func- tions. The office of magistrate itself was vastly more interesting and attractive to Ivdn Ilyitch than his former position. To be sure, it used to be agreeable to him, in his former position, to pass with free and eas}' gait, in his Scharmer-made uniform, in front of trembling petitioners and petty officials, waiting for an inter- view, and envying him, as he went without hesitation into the nachalnik's private room, and sat down with him to drink a cup of tea, and smoke a cigarette ; but the men who were directly dependent upon his pleasure were few, — merely ispravniks^ and raskol- niks, if he were sent out with special instructions. And he liked to meet these men, dependent upon him, not only politely, but even on terms of comradeship : he liked to make them feel that he, who had the power to crush them, treated them simply, and like friends. He had few such people there. But now, as examining magistrate, Ivdn Ilyitch felt that all, all without exception, even men of impor- tance, of distinction, all were in his hands, and that all he had to do was to write such and such words on a piece of paper with a heading, and this important, distinguished man would be brought to him in the capacity of accused or witness, and, unless he wished to ask him to sit down, he would have to stand in his presence, and submit to his questions. Ivdn Ilyitch never took undue advantage of this power: on the contrary, he tried to temper the expression of it. But 1 Police captains. THE DEATH OF IVAN ILYITCH. 19 the consciousness of this power, and the possibility of tempering it, furnished for him the chief interest and attractiveness of his new office. In the office itself, especially in investigations, Ivan Ilyitch was very quick to master the process of elimi- nating all circumstances extraneous to the case, and of disentangling the most complicated details in such a manner that the case would be pi'esented on paper, only in its essentials, and absolutely shorn of his own personal opinion, and, last and not least, no necessary formality would be neglected. This was a new mode of doing things. And he was one of the first to be engaged in putting into operation the code of 1864. When he took up his residence in a new city, as ex- amining magistrate, Ivdn Ilyitch made new acquaint- ances and ties : he put himself on a new footing, and adopted a somewhat different tone. He held himself rather aloof from the provincial authorities, and took up with a better circle among the nobles of wealth and position dwelling in the city ; and he adopted a tone of easy-going criticism of the government, together with a moderate form of liberalism and "civilized citizenship." At the same time, though Ivdn Ilyitch in no wise diminished the elegance of his toilet, yet he ceased to shave his chin, and allowed his beard to grow as it would. Ivdn Ilyitch 's life in the new city also passed very agreeably. The society which fronded against the government was good and friendly ; his salary was larger than before ; and, while he had no less zest in life, he had the additional pleasure of playing whist, a garfie in which, as he enjoyed playing cards, he quickly learned to excel, so that he was always on the winning side. 20 THE DEATH OF IVAN ILYITCH. After two years of service in the new city, Ivdn Il3'itch met the lady who became his wife. Praskovia Feodorovna Mikh^li was the most fascinating, witty, brilliant young girl in the circle where Ixkn Ilyitch moved. In the multitude of other recreations, and as a solace from the labors of his office, Ivdn Ilyitch es- tablished sportive, easy-going relations with Praskovia Feodorovna. At the time when Iv^n Ilyitch was a tchinovnik with special functions, he had been a passionate lover of danciug ; but now that he was examining magistrate, he danced only as an occasional exception. He now danced with the idea, that, " though I am an advocate of the new order of things, and belong to the fifth class, still, as far as the question of dancing goes, I can at least show that in this respect I am better than the rest.'* Thus, frequently it happened that toward the end of the party, he danced with Praskovia Feodorovna ; and it was principally at the time of these dances, that he made the conquest of Praskovia Feodorovna. She fell in love with him. Iv^n Ilyitch had no clearly decided intention of getting married ; but when the girl fell in love with him, he asked himself this question: "In fact, why shouldn't I get married? " said he to himself. The young lady, Praskovia Feodorovna, came of a, good family belonging to the nobility ; ^ far from ill- favored ; had a small fortune. Ivdn Ilyitch might have aspired to a far more brilliant match, but this was an excellent one. Ivdn Ilyitch had his salary : " she," he hoped, " will have as much more. Good family; she is sweet, prett}-, and a thoroughly well-bred womafa." To say that Ivdn Ilyitch got married because he was » Dvorianetvo. THE DEATH OF IVAN ILYITCIL 21 in love with his betrothed, and found in her sympathy with his views of life, would be just as incorrect as to say that he got married because the men of his set approved of the match. Ivdn Ilyitch took a wife for two reasons : he gave himself a pleasure in taking such a wife ; and, at the same time, the people of the highest rank considered such an act proper. And Ivan Ilyitch got married. From the wedding ceremony itself, and the first few days of their married life with its connubial caresses, their new furniture, their new plate, their new linen, every thing, even the prospects of an increasing family, was all that could be desired. So that Ivdn Ilyitch began to think that marriage not only was not going to disturb his easy-going, pleasant, ga}-, and always respectable life, so approved by society, and which Ivdn Ilyitch considered a perfectly natural character- istic of life in general, but was also going to add to it. But from the first months of his wife's pregnancy, there appeared something new, unexpected, disagree- able, hard, and trying, which he could not have fore- seen, and from which it was impossible to escape. His wife, without any motive, as it seemed to Ivdn Ilyitch, de goiit4 de coeur, as he said to himself, began to interfere with the pleasant and decent current of his life r without any cause she grew jealous of him, demanded attentions from him, found fault with every thing, and caused him disagreeable and stormy scenes. At first Ivdn Ilyitch hoped to free himself from this unpleasant state of things by the same easy-going and respectable acceptation of life which had helped him in da3's gone by. He tried to ignore his wife's disposi- tion, and continued to live as before in an easy and pleasant way. He invited his friends, he gave card- 22 THE DEATH OF IVAN ILYITCH. parties, he attempted to make his visits to the chib or to friends ; but his wife began one time to abuse him with rough and energetic language, and continued l^ersisteutly to scold him each time that he failed to fulfil her demands, having evidently made up her mind not to cease berating him until he was completely sub- jected to her authority — in other words, until he would sta}' at home, and be just as deeply in the dumps as she herself, — a thing which Ivdn Ilyitch dreaded above all. He learned that married life, at least so far as his wife was concerned, did not always add to the pleas- antness and decency of existence, but, on the con- trary, disturbed it, and that, therefore, it was neces- sary to protect himself from such interference. And Ivdn Ilyitch tried to devise means to this end. His official duties were the only thing that had an imposing effect upon Praskovia Feodorovna ; and Ivdn Iljitch, by means of his office, and the duties arising from it, be- gan the struggle with his wife, for the defence of his independent life. When the child was born, and in consequence of the various attempts and failures to have it property nursed, and the illnesses, real and imaginary, of both mother and child, wherein Ivdn Ilyitch's sympathy was demanded, but which were absolutely foreign to him, the necessity for him to secure a life outside of his family became still more imperative. According as his wife grew more irritable and exact- ing, so IvAn Ilyitch transferred the centre of his life's burdens more and more into his office. He began to love his office more and more, and became more ambi- tious than he had ever been. Very soon, not longer than a year after his marriage, THE DEATH OF IVAN ILYITCH. 23 Ivdn Ilyitch learned that a family life, while affording certain advantages, was in reality a very complicated and burdensome thing, in relation to which, if one would fulfil his duty, that is, to lead a respectable life approved by society, one must work out a certain sys- tem, just as in public office. And such a system Ivdn Ilyitch secured in his matri- monial life. He demanded of family life only such conveniences in the way of home-dinners, a house- keeper, a bed, as it could furnish him, and, above all, that respectability in external forms which was in ac- cordance with the opinions of society. As for the rest, he was anxious for pleasant amenities ; and if he found them, he was very grateful. On the other hand, if he met with opposition and complaint, then he immedi- ately took refuge in the far-off world of his official duties, which alone offered him delight. Ivdn Ilyitch was regarded as an excellent magistrate, and at the end of three years he was appointed deputy- prokurdr. His new functions, their importance, the power vested in him of arresting and imprisoning any one soever, the publicity of his speeches, his success obtained in this field, — all this still more attached him to the service. Children came : his wife grew constantly more im- table and ill-tempered ; but the regulation which Ivdn Ilyitch maintained toward family life, made him almost proof against her temper. After seven years of service in one city, Ivdn Ilyitch was promoted to the office of prokurdr in another government. They changed their residence : they had small means, and the place to which they moved did not suit his wife. Although his salary was larger than before, yet living was more expensive ; moreover, two 24 TFIE DEATH OF IVAN ILYITCH. of their children died : and thus family life became still more distasteful to Ivan llyitch. Praskovia Feodorovna blamed her husband for all the misfortunes that came upon them in their new place of abode. The majority, of the subjects of conversa- tion between husband and wife, especially the educa- tion of their children, led to questions which were productive of quarrels, so that quarrels were always ready to break out. Only at rare intervals came those periods of affection which distinguish married life, but they were not of long duration. These were little islands in which they rested for a time ; but then again they pushed out into the sea of secret animosity, which expressed itself by driving them farther and farther apart. This alienation might have irritated Ivdn llyitch, if he had not considered that it was inevitable ; but now he began to look upon this situation not merely as nor- mal, but even as a way of manifesting his activity in the family. The wa}- consisted in withdrawing as far as possible from these unpleasantnesses, or of giving them a character of innocence and respectability ; and he attained this end by spending less and less time with his family ; but when he was to do so, then he endeav- ored to secure his situation by the presence of stran- gers. But Ivan Ilyiteh's chief resource was his office. In the world of his duties was concentrated all his inter- est in life. And this interest wholly absorbed him. The consciousness of his power of ruining an}' one whom he might wish to ruin ; the importance of his position manifested outwardly when he came into court, or met his subordinates ; his success with superiors and subordinates ; and, above all, his skill in the conduct of THE DEATH OF IVAN ILYITCH. 25 affairs, — and he was perfectly conscious of it, — all this delighted him, and together with conversations with his colleagues, dinners and whist, filled all his life. Thus, for the most part, Ivdn Ilyitch's life continued to flow in its even tenor as he considered that it ought to flow, — pleasantly and respectably. Thus he lived seven years longer. His eldest daugh- ter was already sixteen years old ; still another little child died ; and there remained a lad, a gimnazist, the object of their wrangling. Ivdn Ilyitch wanted to send him to the law school ; but Praskovia, out of spite toward him, selected the gymnasium. The daughter studied at home, and made good progress : the lad also was not at all backward in his studies. 26 THE DEATH OF IVAN ILYITCH, ni. Thus seventeen years of Ivdn Ily itch's hie passed -since the time of his marriage. He was already an old prokurdr^ having declined several transfers, in the hope of a still more desirable place, when there occurred unexpectedly an unpleasant turn of affairs which was quite disturbing to his peaceful life. Ivdn Ilyitch was hoping for the position of president^ in a university city ; but Hoppe got in ahead of him, and obtained the place. IvAn Ilyitch became irritated, began to make recriminations, got into a quarrel with him and his ne«:t superior, who had showed signs of coolness, and in the subsequent appointments he was set aside. This was in 1880. This year was the most trying of Ivdn Ilyitch's life. It happened, on the one hand, that his salary did not meet his expenses ; on the other, that he was forgotten by all, and that what seemed to him a great, an atrocious injustice toward himself, was regarded by others as a perfectly natural thing. Even his father did not think it his duty to come to his aid. He felt~that he was abandoned by all his friends, who considered that his position, Worth thirty -five hundred rubles a year, was ver}^ normal and even fortunate. He alone knew, that with the consciousness of the injustice which had been done him, and with his wife's everlast- ing rasping, and with the debts which began to accu- mulate, now that he lived beyond his means — he alone knew that his situation was far from normal. 1 Predeyed^tel. THE DEATH OF IVAN ILYITCH. 27 The summer of that year, m order to lighten his ex- penses, he took leave of absence, and went with his wife to spend the summer in the country at Ptaskovia Feodorovna's brother's. In the country, relieved of his otticial duties, Ivdn Ilyitch for the first time felt not only irksomeness, but insupportable anguish ; and he made up his mind that it was impossible to live in such a way, and that he must take immediate and decisive steps, no matter what they were. After a long, sleepless night, which he spent walking up and down the terrace, Ivdn Ilyitch decided to go to Petersburg to bestir himself, and to get transferred into another ministry, so as to punish them who had not known how to appreciate him. On the next day, notwithstanding all the protests of his wife and brother-in-law, he started for Petersburg. He wanted only one thing, — to obtain a place worth five thousand rubles a year. He would not stipulate for any special ministry, any special direction, any form of activity. All that he needed was a place, — a place with a salary of five thousand rubles, in the administration, in the banks, on the railroads, in the institutions of the Empress IMaria, even in the custom service ; but the sole condition was the five-thousand salary, the sole condition to be relieved from the min- istry, where they did not know how to appreciate him. And lo ! this trip of Ivdn Ilyitch's met with aston- ishing, unexpected success.. At Kursk an acquaint- ance of his, F. S, Jlyin, came into the first-class car, and informed him of a telegram just received by the governor of Kursk to the effect that a change was about to be made in the ministry : in Piotr Ivanovitch's place would be appointed Ivdn Semyonovitch. 28 THE DEATH OF IVAN ILYITCH. This probable change, over and above its significance for Russia, had a special significance for Ivdn Ilyitch, from the fact that by bringing up a new oflScial Piotr Ivanovitch, and probably his friend Zakhdr Ivdnovitch, it was in the highest degree favorable for Ivdn Ilyitch. Zakhdr Ivanovitch was a colleague and friend of Ivdn Ilyitch. In Moscow the tidings were confirmed. And when he reached Petersburg, Ivdn Ilyitch sought out Zakhdr Ivdnovitch, and obtained the promise of a sure position in his old ministry, — that of justice. At the end of a week he telegraphed his wife, — " Zakhdr Miller's place; at the first report^ shall get nomination.' ' Ivan Ilyitch, thanks to this change of administration, suddenly obtained in his old ministry such an appoint- ment as put him two grades above his colleagues, — five thousand salary, and thirty-five hundred for travelling expenses. All his grievances against his former rivals and against all the ministry were forgotten, and Ivan Ilyitch was entirely happy. Ivdn Ilyitch returned to the country, jocund, con- tented, as he had not been for a long time. Praskovia Feodorovna also brightened up, and peace was re-estab- lished between them. Ivdn Ilyitch related how he was esteemed by every one in Petersburg ; how all those who had been his enemies were covered with shame, and now fawned upon him ; how they envied him his position, and especially how dearly every one in Peters- burg loved him. Praskovia Feodorovna listened to this, and made believe that she believed it, and did not contradict him in any thing, but only made plans for the arrangement THE DEATH OF IVAN ILYITCIL 29 of their new life in the cit}' where they were going. And Ivdn Ilyitch had the joy of seeing that these plans were his plans, that they coincided, and that his life, interrupted though it had been, was now about to regain its own character of festive pleasure and decency. Ivdn Ilyitch came for only a short visit. On the 22d of September he was obliged to assume his duties ; and, moreover, he needed time to get established in his new place, to transport all his possessions from the province, to buy new things, to give orders for still more, — in a word, to install himself as it seemed proper to his mind, and pretty nearly as it seemed proper to Praskovia Feodorovna's ideas. And now, when all was ordered so happily, and when he and his wife were in accord, and, above all, lived together but a small portion of the time, the}^ became better friends than they had been since the first years of their married life. Ivdn Ilyitch at first thought of taking his family with him immediately ; but the insistence of his sister- and brother-in-law, who suddenly manifested an ex- traordinary friendliness and brotherly love for Ivdn Ilyitch and his family, induced him to depart alone. Ivdn Ilyitch took his departure ; and the jocund dis- position of his mind, arising from his success and his reconciliation with his wife, the one consequent upon the other, did not for a moment leave him. He found admirable apartments, exactly coinciding with the dreams of husband and wife, — spacious, lofty reception-rooms in the old style ; convenient, graricl- lotious library ; chambers for his wife and daughter ; study-room for his son, — all as though expressly de- signed for them. Ivdn Ilyitch himself took charge of 30 THE DEATH OF IVAN ILYJTCH. the arrangements. He selected the wall-papers ; he bought the furniture, mostly antique, to which he attributed a specially comme-il-faut-ish style ; hangings and all took form, and took form and approached that ideal which he had established in his conception. When his arrangements were half completed, they surpassed his expectations. He perceived what a comme-il-faut-ish, exquisite, and far from common- place, character all would hav^e when completed. When he lay down to sleep, he imagined his drawing-room as it would be. As he looked about his parlor, still unfinished, he nevertheless saw the fireplace, the screen, the little etag^re, and those easy-chairs scattered here and there, those plates and saucers on the walls, and the bronzes, just as they would be when all was in place. He was delighted with the thought of how he should astonish Pasha (Praskovia) and Lizanka, who also had such good taste in these things. ' They never would look for this. Especially that he would have the thought of going and buying at such a low price these old things that give the whole an extraordinary charac- ter of gentility.' In his letters he purposely represented every thing worse than it really was — so as to surprise them. All this so occupied him, that even his new duties, much as he enjoyed them, were not so absorbing as he expected. Even while court was in session, he had his moments of abstraction : he was cogitating as to what sort of cornices he should have for his curtains, — straight or matched. He was so interested in this, that often he himself took hold, re-arranged the furniture, and even rehung the curtains himself. One time, when he was climbing on a pair of steps, THE LEATH OF IVAN ILYITCH. 31 SO as to explain to a dull- minded upholsterer how he wished a drapery to be arranged, he slipped and fell ; but being a strong, dexterous man, he saved himself. He only hit his side on the edge of the frame. He received a bruise, but it quickly passed away. Ivdn Ilyitch all this time felt perfectly happy and well. He wrote, '^I feel as though I were fifteen years younger." He expected to finish in September, but circum- stances delayed it till the middle of October. But it was all admirable : not only he himself said so, but all who saw it said the same. In reality, it was exactly what is customary among those people who are not very rich, but who like to ape the rich, and therefore only resemble each other, — silken fabrics, mahogany, flowers, carpets, and bronzes, dark or shining, all that wliich all people of a certain class affect, so as to be comparable to all people of a certain class. And in his case, there was a greater resem- blance, so that it was impossible to single out any thing for attention ; but still, this to him was some- thing extraordinary. When he met his family at the railway station, he took them to their apartments, freshly put in order for them ', and the lackey, in a white necktie, opened the door into the vestibule, ornamented with flowers ; and then they went into the parlor, the library, and oh'ed and ah'ed with delight : and he was very happy ; he showed them every thing, drank in their praises, and shone with satisfaction. On that very evening at tea, when Praskovia Feodorovna asked him, among other things, how he fell, he laughed, and illustrated in pantomime how he went head over heels, and scared the upholsterer. ''I'm not a gymnast for nothing. Another man would have killed himself, but I just 32 THE DEATH OF IVAN ILYITCH. struck myself here a little ; when you touch it, it hurts ; but it's already wearing off — it's a mere bruise." And they began to live in the new domicile, in which, as always, after one has become fairly estab- lished, it was discovered that there was just one room too few; and with their new means, which, as always, lacked a little of being sufficient ; about five hundred rubles additional, and it would have been well. All went extraordinarily well at first, while still their arrangements were not wholly regulated, and there was still much to do, — buying this thing, giving orders for that, re-arranging, mending. Although there were occasional disagreements between husband and wife, yet both were so satisfied, and they had so many occupations, that no serious quarrel resulted. Still, when there was nothing left to arrange, they became a trifle bored, and felt that something was lacking ; but now the}^ began to form new acquaint- ances, new habits, and their lives became full. Iv^n Ilyitch spent the morning at court, but returned home to dinner ; and at first he was in excellent humor, although sometimes he was a little vexed by something or other in the household management. (Any kind of spot on the table-cloth, on the draperies, any break in the curtain-cords, irritated him. He had taken so much pains in getting things in order, that any kind of harm befalling was painful to him.) But, on the whole, Iv4n Ilyitch's life ran on, as in his opinion life ought to run, smoothly, pleasantly, and decently. He arose at nine o'clock, drank his coffee, read the paper, then donned his uniform, and went down to THE DEATH OF IVAN ILYITCH. 33 court. There he instantly got himself into the harness to which he had been so long accustomed, — petitioners, inquiries at the chancery, the chancery itself, sessions public and administrative. In all this, it was ne- cessary to devise means to exclude all those external concerns of life which forever tend to trespass upon the accuracy of conducting official duties ; it was ne- cessary that he should tolerate no relations with people except upon an official basis ; and the cause for such relations must be official, and the relations themselves must be only official. For example, a man comes, and wants to know some- thing or other. Ivan Ilyitch, as a man apart from his office, cannot have any relations with this man ; but if the relationship of this man to the magistrate is such that it can be expressed on letterhead paper, then, with- in the limits of these relations, Ivan Ilyitch would do all, absolutely all, in his power, and at the same time preserve the semblance of affable, philanthropical rela- tions, — in other words, of politeness. The point where his official life and his private life joined was very strictly drawn. IvAn Ilyitch had a high degree of skill in separating the official side from the other without confounding them ; and his long practice and talent gave him &\\q\\ finesse^ that he sometimes, as a virtuoso, allowed himself, by way of a jest, to confound the humanitarian and his official relations. This act in Ivdn Ilyitch's case was played, not only smootllTy, pleasantly, and decently, but also in a vir- tuoso manner. During the intervals, he smoked, drank tea, talked a little about politics, a little about affairs in general, a little about cards, and more than all about appointments ; and when weary, but still conscious of his virtuosity, as of one who has well played his part, o4 THE DEATH OF IVAN ILYITCH. like one of the first violins of an orchestra, he went home. At home the mother and daughter had been receiv- ing or making calls : the son was at the gymnasium, preparing his lessons with tutors ; and he learned accu- rately whatever was taught him in the gymnasium. All was excellent. After dinner, unless he had guests, Ivdn Ilyitch sometimes read a book which was being talked about ; and during the evening he sat down to his work, — that is, read papers, consulted the laws, compared deposi- tions, and applied the law to them. This was neither tedious nor inspiriting. It was tedious when he had the chance to play viiit ; but if there was no vint^ then it was far better than to sit alone or with his wife. Very delightful to Ivan Ilyitch were the little dinners to which he invited ladies and gentlemen holding high positions in society ; and such entertainments were like the entertainments of people of the same class, just as his parlor was like all parlors. One evening they even had a party ; they danced, and Ivan Ilyitch felt gay, and all was good ; only a great quarrel arose between husband and wife about the patties and sweetmeats. Praskovia Feodorovna had her ideas about them ; but Ivan Ilyitch went to the ex-^ pense of getting them all of an expensive confectioner, and he got a great quantity of patties ; and the quarrel was because there was an extra quantity, and the con- fectioner's bill amounted to forty-five rubles. The quarrel was sharp and disagreeable, inasmuch as Praskovia Feodorovna called him "Fool! Pig- head ! " And he, putting his hands to his head in his vexation, muttered something about divorce. THE DEATH OF IVAN ILYITCH. 35 Bat the party itself was gay. The very best society were present; and Ivdn Ilyitch danced with "the Prin- cess Trufonova, the sister of the well-known founder of the society called " Unesi tui mayd g6re.'' ^ Ivdn Ilyitch' s official pleasures were the pleasures of self-love ; his pleasures i» society were pleasures of vanity ; but his real pleasures were the pleasures of playing vint. He confessed, that after all, after any disagreeable event whatsoever that might befall his life, the pleasure which, like a candle, glowed brighter than all others, was that of sitting down — four good play- ers, and partners who did not shout — to a game of vint (and always four, for it is very bad form to have five, even though you say, " I like it very much"), and have a reasonable, serious game (when the cards run well), and then to eat a little supper, and drink a glass of wine. And Ivdn Ilyitch used to go to sleep, especially after a game of vint^ when he had won a little something (a large sum is disagreeable), and feel particularly happy in his mind. Thus they lived. The circle of their friends con- sisted of the very best society : men of high position visited them, and young people came. As far as their views upon the circle of their acquaint- ance were concerned, husband, wife, and daughter were perfectly unanimous. And tacitly they each in the same way pushed aside, and rid themselves of, certain friends and relatives, — the undesirable kind, who came fawning around them in their parlor decorated with Japanese plates on the wall. Very soon these undesir- able friends ceased to flutter around them, and the Golovins had only the very best societ)\ Young men were attracted to Lizanka ; and the 1 •' Take away my BOiiO.v." 36 THE DEATH OF IVAN ILYITCH. examining magistrate, Petrishcbef, the son of Dmitri Ivdnovitch Petrishcbef, and the sole heir to his wealth, began to flutter around Liza so assiduously, that Ivdn Ilyitch already asked Praskovia Feodorovna whether it would not be a good plan to take a troika-ride together, or arrange some private theatricals. Thus they lived. And thus all went along in its even course, and all was very good. THE DEATH OF IVAN ILYITCH, 37 IV. All were in good health. It was impossible to make ill health out of the fact that Iv^n II3 itch sometimes complained of. a strange taste in his mouth and an un- easiness in the left side of his abdomen. But the fact remained that this unpleasant feeling kept growing more and more manifest : it did not as yet become painful, but it showed itself in the con- sciousness of a constant dull weight in his side, and in an irritable temper. This irritability, constantly in- creasing and increasing, began to disturb the pleasant, easy-going, decent life that had been characteristic of the Goloviu family. The husband and wife began to quarrel more and more frequently ; and before long their easy, pleasant relations were broken up, and even the decen^^y was maintained under difficulties. Scenes once more became very frequent. Once more, but quite infrequently, the little islands appeared, on which husband and wife could meet without an explo- sion. And Praskovia now said, not without justifica- tion, that her husband had a very trying nature. With her peculiar tendency to exaggeration, she declared that he had always had such a terrible disposition, that she deserved the profoundest pity for having endured this for twenty years. It was indeed true that now he was the one that be- gan the quarrels. His querulousness began always before dinner, and often, indeed, just as they sat down 38 THE DEATH OF IVAN ILYITCH. to eat the soup. Sometimes he noticed that there was some uick in the dish ; sometimes the food did not suit him ; now his son rested his elbows on the table ; now it was the way his daughter dressed her hair. And he blamed Praskovia Feodorovna for every thing. At first Praskovia Feodorovna answered in kind, and said disagreeable things to him ; but twice, just as dinner was beginning, he broke out into such a fury that she perceived this to be an unhealthy state, which proceeded from the assimilation of food ; and she held her peace ; she did not reply, and merely hastened to finish dinner. Praskovia Feodorovna regarded her meekness as a great merit. As she had made up her mind that her husband had a horrible disposition, and was making her life wretched, she began to pity herself. And the more she pitied herself, the more she detested her husband. She began to wish that he would die ; but she could not quite wish it, because then they would not have his salary any more. And this actually exas- perated her still more against him. She regarded her- self as terribly unhappy, from the very fact that his death could not relieve her : and she grew bitter, but concealed it ; and this concealed bitterness strengthened her hatred of him. After one scene in which IvJin Ilyitch was particu- larly unjust, and which he explained on the ground that his irritability was the result of not being well, she told him, that, if he was ill, then he ought to take some medicine ; and she begged him to go to a famous physician. He went. Every thing was as he expected : every thing was done according to the usual way, — the having to wait; and the pompous, doctorial air of importance, so familiar to him, the same as he himself THE DEATH OF IVAN ILYITCH. 39 assumed in court ; and the tapping and the ausculta- tion ; and the leading questions requiring answers pre- determined, and apparently not heard ; and the look of superlative wisdom which seemed to say, "You, now, just trust yourself to us, and we will do every thing; we understand without fail how to manage ; every thing is done in the same way for any man." Every thing was just exactly as in court. The airs that he put on in court for the benefit of those brought before him, the same were assumed by the famous doctor for his benefit. The doctor said, " Such and such a thing ^ shows that you have such and such a thing in you ; but if this is not confirmed according to the investigations of such and such a man, then you must suppose such and such a thing. Now, if we suppose such and such a thing, then " — and so on. P'or Iv^n Ilyitch, only one question was momentous : Was his case dangerous, or not ? But the doctor ignored this inconvenient question. From a doctor's point of view, this question was idle, and did not deserve consideration : the only thing to do was to weigh prob- abilities, — floating kidney, chronic catarrh, disease of the blind intestine. There was no question of Ivdn Ilyitch's life, but there was a dispute between the kidney disease and bowel trouble ; and this dispute, the doctor, in Ivdn Ilyitch's presence, settled in the most brilliant manner in favor of the bowel trouble, making a reserve in case an analysis of the urine should give new results, and then the case would have to be examined anew. All this was exactly what Ivan Ilyitch himself had done a thousand times in the same brilliant manner for 1 To-to. 40 THE DEATH OF IVAN ILYITCH. the benefit of the prisoner at the bar. Thus, even more brilliantly, the doctor made his r4sumd, and, with an air of still more joyful triumph, he gazed down upon the prisoner at the bar from over his spectacles. From the doctor's resum^, Ivan Ilyitch came to the conclusion, that, as far as he was concerned, it was bad ; but as far as the doctor, and perhaps the rest of the world, was concerned, it made no difference ; but for him it was bad ! And this conclusion struck Iv^n Ilyitch with a painful shock, causing in him a feeling of painful pity for him- self, and of painful wrath against this physician who showed such indifference to such a vital question. But he said nothing: then he got up, laid some money on the table, and, with a sigh, said, — '^ Evidently we sick men often ask foolish questions of you," said he ; *' but, in general, is this trouble serious, or not ? " The doctor gave him a severe glance with one eye, through the spectacles, as though saying, — '' Prisoner at the bar, if you do not confine yourself to the limits of the questions put before you, I shall be constrained to take measures for having you put out of the audience-chamber." '' I have already told you what I considered neces- sary- and suitable," said the doctor : " a further exam- ination will complete the diagnosis ; " and the doctor bowed him out. Iv^n Ilyitch went out slowly, lugubriously took his seat in his sledge, and drove home. All the way he kept repeating all that the doctor had said, endeavoring to translate all those involved scientific phrases into simple language, and find in them an answer to the question, " Is it a serious, very serious, case for me, THE DEATH OF IVAN ILYITCH. 41 or is it a mere nothing ? ' ' And it seemed to him that the sense of all the doctor's words indicated a very serious case. The aspect of every thing in the streets was gloomy. The izvoshchiks were gloomy ; gloomy the houses, the pedestrians ; the shops were gloomy. This pain, this obscure, dull pain, which did not leave him for a second, seemed to him, when taken in con- nection with the doctor's ambiguous remarks, to gather a new and more serious significance. Ivdn Ilyitch, with a new sense of depression, now took constant heed of it. He reached home, and began to tell his wife. His wife listened: but while he was in the midst of his account, his daughter came in with her hat on ; she was ready to go out with her mother. She sat down with evident disrelish to listen to this wearisome tale, but she was not detained long : her mother did not hear him out. '' Well," said she, '' I am very glad; for now you will look out, and take your medicine properly. Give me the prescription, and I will send Gerasim to the apothecary's." And she went to get dressed. He could not get a long breath all the time that she was in the room, and he sighed heavily when she went out. '' Well," ^ said he, '* perhaps it's a mere nothing, after all." He began to take his medicine, and to follow the doctor's prescriptions, which were somewhat modified after the urine had been analyzed. But it happened exactly as the result of the analysis, and the fact that he had to follow a new regime^ that a certain amount 1 Nix chtozh. 42 THE DEATH OF IVAN ILYITCH. of confusion arose. It was impossible to blame the doctor ; but the fact was, the doctor's directions were not carried out. Either he had forgotten or neglected something, or he had concealed something from him. But Ivdn Ilyitch nevertheless began pretty faithfully to follow the doctor's prescriptions, and in this way for the first part of the time he found consolation. Ivdn Ily itch's principal occupation, after he went to consult the doctor, consisted in carefully carrying out the doctor's prescription in regard to hygiene, and tak- ing his medicine, and watching the symptoms of his malady, all the functions of his organism. Ivan Il^'itch becp,me chiefly interested in human disease and human health. When people spoke in bis presence of those who were sick, of those who had died, of those who were recuperating, especially of diseases like his own, he would listen, endeavoring to hide his agitation, would ask questions, and make comparisons with his own trouble. The pain did not diminish, but Ivdn Ily itch com- pelled himself to feign that he was getting better. And he was able to deceive himself when there was nothing to irritate him. But the moment that he had any disagreeable scene with his wife, a rebuff in court, a bad hand at vint^ then instantl}^ he felt the full force of his malady : formerly he endured these rebuffs, hop- ing that " now I shall straighten out this wretched business, shall conquer, shall have success, win the next hand." But now every little rebuff cut him right down, and plunged him in despair. He said to himself, — *' Here I was just beginning to get a little better, and the medicine was already hel[)ing me, and here this cursed bad luck or this unpleasantness " . . . THE DEATH OF IVAN ILYITCH. 43 And he would break out against his bad luck, or against the people who l)rought him unpleasantness, and were killing him ; and he realized how this fit of anger was killing him, but he could not control it. It would seem that he must see clearly that this giv- ing wa}' to anger against circumstances and people confirmed his malady, and that, therefore, he ought not to notice disagreeable trifles ; but he reasoned in pre- cisely the opposite way. He said'that he needed quiet : he took note of all that might disturb this quiet, and at every least disturbance his irritation broke out. His state was rendered worse by the fact that he read medi- cal works, and consulted with doctors. The progress of his disease was so gradual that he was able to deceive himself by comparing one evening with the next: there was little difference. But when he consulted with the doctors, then it seemed to him that it was growing worse, and very rapidl}' also. And notwithstanding that he constantly consulted with doctors. During this month he went to another celebrity : the second celebrity said pretty much the same as the first, but he propounded his questions in a different way. And the consultation with this celebrity redoubled Ivan Ily itch's doubt and fear. A friend of a friend of his — a very good doctor — gave an absolutely different definition of his malady ; and notwithstanding the fact that he predicted recov- ery, his questions and hypotheses still further confused Ivan Ilyitch, and increased his doubts. A homceopathist defined his disease in a still differ- ent manner, and gave him some pellets ; and Ivdn Ilyitch, without being suspected by any one, took them for a week. But at the end of the week, not perceiv- 44 THE DEATH OF IVAN ILYITCH. ing that any relief came of them, and losing faith, not only in this, but in his former methods of treatment, he fell into still greater melancholy. One time a lady of his acquaintance was telling him about cures effected by means of ikons. Ivan llyitch surprised himself by listening attentively, and believ- ing in the reality of the fact. This discovery fright- ened him. "Is it possible that ray faculties have reached such a degree of weakness?" he asked himself. ''Non- sense ! All rubbish ! One must not give way to mere fancies. Now I'm- going to select one physician, and rigorously follow his advice. That's what I will do. Tliat's the end of it. I will not bother my brain, and till summer I will strictly carry out his prescription ; and then the result will be seen. Now for an end to these hesitations." It was easy to say this, but impossible to carry it out. The pain in his side constantly troubled him, constantly seemed to grow worse, became incessant ; the taste in his mouth became always more and more peculiar ; it seemed to him that his breath was disagree- able, and his strength constantly failed him. It was impossible to deceive himself : something terrible, novel, and significant, more significant than any thing that had ever happened before in his life, was taking place in Ivdn llyitch. And he alone was conscious of it : those who surrounded him did not comprehend it, or did not wish to comprehend it, and thought that every thing in the world was going on as before. This more than aught else pained Ivan llyitch. His family, — especially his wife and daughter, who were in the very white-heat of visits, — he saw, did not com- prehend at all, were vexed with him because he was THE DEATH OF IVAN ILYITCTL 45 gloomy and exacting, as though he were to blame for it. Even though thc}^ tried to hide it, he saw that he was in their way, but that his wife had definitely made up her mind in regard to his trouble, and stuck to it, no matter what he might say or do. This mental attitude was expressed in some such way as this : '' You know," she would say to her ac- quaintance, '' it is impossible for Ivdu Ilyitch to rigor- ously carry out the doctor's prescriptions, as all decent men would do. To-day he takes his drops, and eats w^hat is ordered for him, and goes to bed betimes : to- morrow, all of a sudden, if I don't look out, he will forget to take his medicine, will eat sturgeon (though it is forbidden), yes, and sit up at vint till one o'clock." ''Well, now, when?" asks Ivdn Ilyitch, somewhat vexed. " Just once at Piotr Ivanovitch's." *' And last evening with Shebek." " All right, — I could not sleep from pain." . . . " Yes, no matter what it comes from : only you will never get over it in this waj-, and will keep on tor- menting us." Praskovia Feodorovna's settled conviction in regard to this disease, — and she impressed it upon every one, and upon Ivdn Ilyitch himself, — was that he was to blame for it, and this whole illness was a new indig- nity put upon his wife. Ivdn Ilyitch felt that this was involuntary on her part, but it was not on that account any easier for him to bear it. In court Ivdn Ilyitch noticed, or thought that he noticed, the same strange behavior toward him. Now it seemed to him that he was regarded as a man who was soon to give up his place : again, his friends sud- denly began to rally him about his gloominess, as though this horrible, strange, and unheard-of something 46 THE DEATH OF IVAN ILYITCU. thfit was breeding in him, find ceaselessly sucking up his vitality, and irresistibly dragging him away, w^ere a pleasant subject for raillery ! Schwartz especially irri- tated him with his jocularity, his lively ways, and his comme-il-faut-ness, reminding Ivan Ilyitch of himself as he had been ten years before. Friends dropped in to have a game of cards. They sat down : they dealt, new cards were shuffled, dia- monds were thrown on diamonds, — seven of them. His partner said, "No trumps," and held up two diamonds. What more could be desired ? It ought to have been a ga}', proud moment, — a clean sweep. ^ And suddenly Ivdn Ilyitch was conscious of that pain, of that taste in his mouth, and it seemed to him barba- rous that he should be able thus to rejoice in this hand. He looked at Mikhail INIikhailovitch, his partner, as he rapped the table with his big red hand, and courteously and condescendingly refrained from gathering up the tricks, but pushed them over to Iv^n Ilyitch that he might have the pleasure of counting them, without in- conveniencing himself, without putting his hand out. "What ! does he think that I am so weak that I can't put my hand out? " thinks Ivdn Ilyitch ; forgets what were trumps ; trumps his partner's trick, and loses the sweep by three points. And what is more terrible than all, is that he sees how Mikhai'l Mikhailovitch suffers, and to him it is a matter of indifference. And it is terrible to think why it is a matter of indifference to him. All see that it is hard for him, and say to him, — " We can stop playing if you are tired. You rest a while." . . . Rest ? No : he is not tired at all ; they will finish 1 /She lorn. THE DEATH OF IVAN ILYITCTI. 47 the rubber. All are gloomy and taciturn. Iv^n Ilyitch feels that he is the cause of their gloominess, and he cannot enliven it. They have supper, and then go home ; and Ivan Ilyitch is left alone, with the con- sciousness that his life is poisoned for him, and that he is poisoning the lives of others, and that this poison is not growing weaker, but is always working its way deeper and deeper into his being. And with this consciousness, sometimes also with physical pain, sometimes with terror, he must needs go to bed, and frequently not sleep from anguish the greater part of the night. And in the morning he must needs get up again, dress, go to court, speak, write, and, unless he goes to ride, stay at home for those twenty- four hours, each one of which was a torture. And he must needs live thus on the edge of destruction alone, without any one to understand him and pity him. 48 THE DEATH OF IVAN ILYITCU. Thus passed one month and two. Before New- Year's his brother-in-law came to their city, and stopped at their house. Praskovia Feodorovna had gone out shopping. Ivan Il3atch was in court. When he came home, and went into his library, he found his brother- in-law there, a healthy, sanguine man, engaged in opening his trunk. He raised his head as he heard Ivan Ilyitch's steps, and looked at him a moment in silence. This look revealed all to Ivdn Ilyitch. His brother-in-law opened his mouth to say " Akh ! " and refrained. This motion confirmed every thing. ' ' What ? Have I changed ? ' ' " Yes . . . there is a change." And though Ivdn Ilyitch tried to keep the conversa- tion on his external appearance, his brother-in-law avoided the subject. Praskovia Feodorovna came in : his brother-in-law went to her room. Ivan Ilyitch locked the door, and began to look at himself in the glass, first front face, then his profile. He took his portrait, and compared it with what he saw in the mir- ror. The change was immense. Then he bared his arm to the elbow, looked at it, pulled down his sleeve, sat down on the otomanka, and it became darker than night. ' ' It must not — it must not be ! " said he to him- self ; jumped up, went to the table, opened a brief, began to read it, but could not. He opened the door, THE DEATH OF IVAN ILYITCH. 49 went out into the parlor. The sitting-room door was shut. He tiptoed up to it, and began to listen. " No, you exaggerate," Praslaovia Feodorovua was saying. ''How do I exaggerate? Isn't it plain to j^ou? He's a dead man. Look at his eyes : no light in them. . . . But what's the matter with him?" *' No one knows. Nikolaef " (this was another doc- tor) "says one thing, but I don't know about it. Leshchititsky " (this was the famous doctor) "says the opposite "... Ivdn Ilyitch turned awaj', went to his room, lay down, and began to think : "kidney — a loose kidney ! " He recalled all that the doctors had told him, — how it was torn away, and how it was loose. And by an effort of his imagination he endeavored to catch this kidney, to stop it, to fasten it. " It takes so little," it seemed to him. "No: I must make another visit to Piotr Ivano- vitch." (This was the friend whose friend was a doctor.) He rang, ordered the horse to be harnessed, and got ready to go out. " Where are you going, Jean 7 " asked his wife, with a peculiarly gloomy and unusually gentle expression. This unusual gentleness angered him. He looked at her grimly. " I have got to go to Piotr Ivdnovitch's." He went to the friend who had the medical friend, and with him to the doctor's. He found him at home, and had a long talk with him. As he examined the anatomical and phj^siological details of what, 'according to the doctor, was taking place in him, he comprehended it perfectly. 50 THE DEATH OF IVAN ILYITCH. There was one mere trifle — the least bit of a trifle in the blind intestine. All that could be put to rights. Strengthen the force of one organ, weaken the activ- ity of another — assimilation ensues, and all is set to rights. He was a little late to dinner. He ate heartily, he talked gayly, but for a long time he was not able to make up his mind to go to work. • At last he went to his library, and immediately sat down to his labors. He read his briefs, and labored over them ; tjut he did not get rid of the consciousness that he had before him an important, private duty, W'hich he must carry out to a conclusion. When he had finished his briefs, he remembered that this private duty was the thinking about the blind Intestine. But he did not give in to it : he went to the sitting-room to tea. They had callers ; there was con- versation, there w^as playing on the pianoforte, and singing ; the examining magistrate, the desirable match for their •daughter, was there. Ivdn Ilyitch spent the evening, as Praskovia Feodorovna observed, more gaji}' than usual ; but he did not for a moment forget that he had before him these important thoughts about the blind intestine. At eleven o'clock he bade his friends good-night, and retired to his own room. Since his illness began, he had slept alone in a little room off the librarj'. >*He went to it, undressed, and took a romance of Zola's ; but he did not read it : he thought. And in his im- agination the longed-for cure of the blind intestine took place. Assimilation, secretion, were stimulated: regulated activity was established. "Yes, it is just exactly so," said he to himself. " It is only necessary to help nature.'* THE DEATH OF IVAN ILYITCIL 51 He remembered his medicine, got up, took it, lay on bis back, waiting for the medicine to have its beneficent effect, and gradually ease his pain. "Only take it regularly, and avoid unhealthy influ- ences : - even now I feel a little better, considerably better." He began to punch his side : it was not painful to the touch. *' No, I don't feel it — already I feel considerably better." He blew out the candle, and lay on his side. . . . ''The blind intestine becomes regulated, assimilates " — And suddenly he began to feel the old, well-known, dull, lingering pain, stubborn, silent, serious ; in his mouth the same well-known taste. His heart sank within him : his brain was in a whirl. "My God! my God!" he cried, "again, again! and it will never cease!" And suddenly the trouble presented itself to him absolutely in another guise. " The blind intestine ! the kidney ! " he said to him- self. " The trouble lies, not in the blind intestine, not in the kidne}^ — but in life — and death ! Yes, once there was life ; but now it is passing away, passing away, and I cannot hold it back. Yes. Wh}' deceive one's self ? Is it not evident to every one, except m}^- self , that I am going to die ? and it is only a question of weeks, of days — maybe instantly. It was light, but now darkness. — Now I was here, but then I shall be there! Where?" A chill ran over him : his breath- ing ceased. He heard only the thumping of his heart. "I shall not be, but what will be? There will be nothing. Then, where shall I be when I am no more? Will that be death? No, I will not have it ! " 52 THE DEATH OF IVAN TLYITCFT. He leaped up, "wished to light the candle, fumbled about with trembling hands, knocked the candle and candlestick to the floor, and again fell back upon the pillow. "Wherefore? It is all the same," he said to him- self, gazing into the darkness with wide-open eyes. " Death ! Yes, — death ! And they know nothing about it, and wish to know nothing about it ; and the}^ do not pity me. They are playing." (He heard through the door the distant sound of voices and ritor- nelles. ) "To them it is all the same . . . and tliey also will die. Little fools ! I first, and they after me. It will be their turn also. But they are enjoying them- selves ! Cattle!" Anger choked him. And he felt an insupportably heavy burden of anguish. " It cannot be that all must be exposed to this horrible terror." He lifted himself once more. " No, it is not so at all. I must calm myself: I must think it all over from the beginning." And here he began to reflect, — " Yes, the beginning of the trouble. I hit my side, and I was just the same as before, one day and the next, only a little ache, then more severe, then the doctor, then low spirits, anxiety, the doctor again. And I am all the time coming nearer and nearer to the abyss. Less strength. Nearer, nearer ! And ' how wasted I am ! I have no light in my eyes. And death — and I thinking about the intestine ! I am thinking only how to cure my intestine ; but this is death ! — Is it really death? " Again fear fell upon him. He panted, bent over, tried to find the matches, hit his elbow against the table. It hindered him, and hurt him : he lost his THE DEATH OF IVAN ILYITCH. 53 patience, pushed angrily against it with more violence, and tipped it over. And in despair, all out of breath, he fell back, expecting death instantly. At this time the visitors were going. Praskovia Feodorovna was showing them out. She heard the table fall, and came in. ''What is the matter?'* " Nothing — I unintentionally knocked it over.'* She went out, and brought in a candle. He was lying heavily, and breathing quickly, like a man who has just run a verst : his eyes were fixed, gazing at her. ''What is it, Jean ?" " No-thing. I — knock - ed — over — Why say any thing? she will not understand," he thought. She did not in the least understand. She picked up the table, put the candle on it, and hurried out. She had to say good-night to her company. When she came back, he was still lying on his back, lookiiig up. " What is the matter? Are you worse? '* "Yes." She shook her head, and sat down. " Do you know, Jean^ I think we had better send for Leshchititsky ? don't you? " That meant, send for the celebrated doctor, and not mind the expense. He smiled bitterly, and said " No." She sat a moment, then came to him, and kissed him on the forehead. He abhorred her, with all the strength of his soul, at that moment when she kissed him ; and he had to restrain himself from pushing her away. "Good-night ! * God give you pleasant sleep ! " "Yes." 1 Proehchai'. 54 THE DEATH OF IVAN ILYITCU. VI. Ivan Ilyitch saw that he was going to die, and he was in perpetual despair. In the depths of his soul, IvAn Ilyitch knew that he was going to die ; but he not only failed to get used to the thought, but also simply did not comprehend it, could not comprehend it. This form of syllogism which he had studied in Kiziveter's " Logic," — '" Kai" ^ is a man, men are mor- tal, therefore Kai is mortal," — had seemed to him all his life true only in its application to Kai, but never to himself. It was Kai as man, as man in general, and in this respect it was perfectly correct ; but he was not Kai, and not man in general, and he had always been an entity absolutely, absolutely distinct from all others : he had been Vanya with mamma and papa, with Mltya and Volodya,^ with his playthings, the coachman, with the nurse ; then with Katenka, with all the joys, sor- rows, enthusiasms of childhood, boyhood, youth. Was it Kai who smelt the odor of the little striped leather ball that Vanya loved so dearly ? Was it Kai who kissed his mother's hand? and was it for Kai that the sili^en folds of his mother's dress rustled so? Was it he who made a conspiracy for the tarts at the Law School? Was it Kai who had been so in love? Was it Kai who had such ability in conducting the sessions ? 1 The typical being in logic, lilje our A. Kai means word. * DimiuutioQti resi^ectively of Ivau, Dmitri, and Vladimir. THE DEATH OF IVAN ILYITCB. 55 " And Kai is certainly mortal, and it is proper that he should die ; but for me, Vanya, Ivdn Ilyitch, with all my feelings, my thoughts, — for me, that is another thing, and it cannot be that I must take my turn and die. That would be too horrible." This was the way that he felt about it : — ''If I were going to die, like Kai', then, surety, I should have known it ; some internal voice would have told me ; but nothing of the sort happened in me, and I myself, and "my friends, all of us, perceived that it was absolutely different in our case from what it was with Kai. But now how is it?" he said to himself. '' It cannot be, it cannot be, but it is ! How is this? How understand it? " And he could not understand it ; and he endeavored to put away this thought as false, unjust, unwholesome, and to supplant it with other thoughts true and whole- some. But this thought, not merely as a thought, but, as it were, a reality, kept recurring and taking form before him. And he summoned in place of this thought other thoughts, one after the other, in the hope of finding succor in them. He strove to return to his former course of reasoning, which hid from him of old the thought of death. But, strangely enough, all that wihich formerly hid, concealed, destroyed the image of death, was now incapable of producing that effect. Ivan Ilyitch came to spend the most part of his time in these attempts to restore the former current of feeling which put death out of sight. Sometimes he said to himself, — ' ' I will take up my duties again : they certainly kept me alive." And he went to court, driving, away every sort of 56 ' THE DEATH OF IVAN ILYJTCH. doubt. He joined his colleagues in conversation, and sat down, according to his old habit, pensively looking with dreamy eyes on the throng, and resting his two emaciated hands on the arms of his oak chair, leaning over, just as usual, toward his colleague, running through the brief, whispering his comments ; and then, suddenly lifting his eyes, and sitting straight, he pro- nounced the well-known words, and began business. But suddeul}', right in the midst of it, the pain in his side, entirely disregarding the time of public busi- ness, began its simultaneous business. Ivan Ilyitch perceived it, tried to turn his thoughts from it ; but it took its course, and it^ came up and stood directly before him, and gazed at him : and he was stupefied ; the fire died out in his eyes, and he began once more ^to ask himself, — " Is there nothing true save it? '* And his colleagues and subordinates saw with sur- prise and concern that he, this brilliant, keen judge, was confused, was making mistakes. He shook himself, tried to collect his thoughts, and in a way conducted the session till it adjourned, and then returned home with the melancholy consciousness that he no longer had the ability, as of old, to separate between his judicial acts and what he wished to put out of his thoughts ; that even in the midst of his judi- cial acts, he could not deliver himself from rr. And what was worse than all, was the fact that it distracted his attention, not to make him do any thing, but only to make him look at it, straight in the eye, — look at it, and, though doing nothing, suffer beyond words. And while attempting to escape from this state of things, Ivdn Ilyitch sought relief, sought other shelter ; > Ond ; that is, death, or the thought of death. THE DEATH OF IVAN TLYITCH. 57 and other shelter came along, and for a short time seemed to help him ; but immediately they not so much failed, as grew transparent, as though it became visible through all, and nothing could hide it. It happened in this latter part of the time that he went into the parlor which he had decorated, — that very parlor where he had met with the fall, for which he — as he had to think with bitterness and scorn — for the decoration of which he had sacrificed his life ; because he knew that his malady began with that bruise: he went in, and saw that on the lacquered table was a scratch, as though cut by something. He sought for the cause of it, and found it in the bronze decoration of an album, which was turned up at the edge. He took the precious album, lovingly filled by him, and broke out in a passion against the careless- ness of his daughter and her friends, who destroyed things so, who dog-eared photographs. He put this carefully to rights, and bent back the ornament. Then the idea occurred to him to transfer this ^to- blissementy^ album and all, to the other corner, where the flowers were. He rang for a servant. Either his wife or his daughter came to his help : they did not agree .with him ; they argued against the change : he argued, he lost his temper ; but it was all serene, because he did not think about it ; it did not appear. But here, as he himself began to shift the things, his wife said, — ' ' Hold on ! the men will attend to that : you will strain yourself again." And suddenly it gleamed through the shelter : he saw it: It gleamed : he was already hoping that it had disappeared, but involuntarily he watched for the pain 1 In French iu the origiual. 58 THE DEATH OF IVAN TLYITCH. — there it was, all the time, always making its advance ; and he cannot forget it, and it clearly gazes at him from among the flowers. What is the purpose of it all? " And it is true that here I have lost my life on that curtain as in a charge ! Is it possible? How horrible and how ridiculous ! It cannot be ! It cannot be I but it is.'' He went back to his library, went to bed, and found himself again alone with it. Face to face with it. But to do any thing with it — impossible! Only to look at it, and grow chill ! Note. — " The anatomy is so made sometimes that the kid- ney on each side may be so loose that it is said to be a ' floating ' or, more rarely, ' wandering.' In three thousand post-mortem examinations, I have seen some three sucli cases. The kidney, so loose in its position sometimes, by getting in the wrong place disturbs the anatomy elsewhere; and the surgeon cuts down upon it, and fastens it in its proper place. The spleen is very variable in its size, but does not wander. The blind intestine is the * head ' of the large gut just below where the small gut enters it." — Dr. F. Ferguson in note to translator. THE DEATH OF IVAN ILYITCH. 59 VII. How this came about in the third month of Ivdn Ilyitch's ill health, it was impossible to say, because it came about step hy step imperceptibly ; but it came about that his wife and daughter, and his son and the servants, and his acquaintances and the doctor, and chiefly he himself, knew that all the interest felt in him by others was concentrated in this one thing, — how soon he would vacate his place, would free the living from the constraint caused by his presence, and be himself freed .from his sufferings. He slept less and less : they gave him. opium, and began to try hypodermic injections of morphine. But this did not relieve him. The dull distress which he experienced in his half drowsy condition, at first merely afforded the relief of change ; but soon the pain came back as severe as ever, or even more intensified. They prepared for him special dishes, according to the direction of the physicians ; but these dishes always became more and more tasteless, more and more repug- nant to him. Special arrangements also had been made, so that he might perform the wants of nature ; and each time it became more trying for him. The torture came from the uncleanliness, the indecency of it, and the ill odor, from the knowledge that he required the assistance of another. But from this very same disagreeable circumstance, 60 THE DEATH OF IVAN ILYITCH. Ivdn Ilyitch drew a consolation. The muzhik — butler — Gerdsiin always came to set things to rights. Gerdsim was a clean, ruddy young muzhik, who had grown stout in the city inns. Always festive, always serene. From the very first, the sight of this man, always so neatly attired in his Russian costume, en- gaged in this repulsive task, made Ivan Ilyitch ashamed. Gerdsim came in with light, buoyant steps, in thick boots, diffusing an agreeable odor of tar from his boots, and the freshness of the winter air. He wore a clean hempen apron and clean cotton shirt, with the cuffs rolled up on his bare, strong young arms ; and not looking at Ivan Ilyitch, evidently curbing the joy in life which shone in his face, so as not to offend the sick man, he approached him. *' Gerdsim," said Ivdn Ilyitch, in a weak voice. Gerdsim started, evidently fearing that he failed in some duty, and turned toward the sick man his fresh, good, simple young face, on which the beard was only just beginning to sprout. " What can I do for 3'ou ? *' *' This, I am thinking, is distasteful to j^ou. For- give me. I am unable.'* " Do not mention it." ^ And Gerdsim's eyes shone, and he showed his white young teeth. '' Whj' should I not do you this service? It is for a sick man." And with expert, strong hands, he fulfilled his wonted task, and went out with light steps. After five min- utes he returned, still walking with light steps. Ivdn Ilyitch was still sitting in his arm-chair. " Gerdsim," he said, " be good enough to assist me. Come hero." Gerdsim went to him. 1 Fomiiaue-a, THE DEATH OF IVAN ILYITCH. 61 " Lift me up. It is hard for me alone, and I sent Dmitri awa}-." Gerdsim went to him. In just the same way as he walked, he lifted him with his strong arm deftly, gently, and held him. With his other hand he adjusted his clothing, and then intended to let him sit down. But Ivan Ilj'itch requested him to help him to the sofa. Genisim, without effort, and as though not exercising any pressure, supported him, almost carrying him, to the sofa, and set him down. " Thank you. How easily, how well, you do it all ! '* Gerdsim again smiled, and was about to go. But Ivdn Ilyitch felt so good with him, that he wanted him to stay. " Hold on ! Please bring me that chair — no ; that one there. Put it under my feet. It is easier for me when my feet are raised." Gerdsim brought the chair, put it down noiselessly, arranged so that it set even on the floor, and put Ivan Ilyitch's legs on the chair. It seemed to Ivan Ilyitch that he felt more comfortable while Gerasim was fixing his legs. *'It is better when my legs are up," said Ivdn Ilyitch. " Bring me that cushion." Gerdsim did this. Again he lifted his legs, and arranged it all. Again Ivdn Ilyitch felt better while Gerdsim was fixing his legs. When he put them down, he felt worse. " Gerdsim," said he, " are you bus}' just now? " " Not at all," said Gerdsim, having learned of city people how to speak with gentlefolk. " What have you more to do? " *' What have I more to do? Every thing has been done, except splitting wood against to-morrow." 62 THE DEATH OF IVAN ILYITCFT. " Then, hold my'legs a little higher, can you? " " Why not? Of course I can ! " Gerdsim lifted his legs higher, and it seemed to Ivdn Ilyitch that in this position he felt no pain at all. ' " But how about the wood ? " " Don't you bother yourself. We'll have time enough." Ivdn Ilyitch bade Gerdsim to sit down and hold his legs, and he talked with him. And, strangely enough, it seemed to him that he felt better while Gerdsim was holding his legs. From that time Ivdn Ilyitch conceived the idea of sometimes calling Gerdsim, and making him hold his legs on his shoulders, and he liked to talk with him. Gerdsim did this easily, willingly, simply, and with a goodness of heart that touched Ivdn Ilyitch. In all other "people, "good health, strength, vigorous life, af- fronted Ivdn Ilyitch ; but Gerdsim 's strength and vig- orous life did not affront Ivdn Ilyitch, but calmed him. Ivdn Ilyitch's chief torment was a lie, — the lie some- how accepted by everybody, that he was only sick, but not dying, and that he needed only to be calm, and trust to the doctors, and then somehow he would come out all right. But he knew, that, whatever was done, nothing would come of it, except still more excruciat- ing anguish and death. And this lie tormented him : it tormented him that they were unwilling to acknowl- edge what all knew as well as he knew, but preferred to lie to him about his terrible situation, and went and made him also a party to this lie. This lie, this lie, it clung to him, even to the very evening of his death ; this lie, tending to reduce the strange, solemn act of his death to the same level as visits, curtains, sturgeon for dinner ... it was horribly painful for Ivdn Ilyitch.. THE DEATH OF IVAN ILYITCH. 63 And strange ! many times, when the}- were playing this farce for his benefit, he was within a hair's-breaclth of shouting at them, — "Stop your foolish lies! you know as well as I know that I am dying, and so stop henceforth your foolish hes ! " But he never had the spirit to do this. The strange, terrible act of his dissolution, he saw, was reduced by all who surrounded him to the grade of an accidental unpleasantness, often unseemly (when he was regarded as a man who came into the parlor and diffused about him a bad odor) , and contrary to those principles of "propriety" which he had served all his life. He saw that no one pitied him, because no one was willing even to appreciate his situation. Only Ger^isim appre- ciated his situation, and pitied him. And, therefore, Ivan Il^-itch was contented only when Gerdsim was present. He was contented when Gerdsim for whole nights at a time held his legs, and did not care to go to sleep, saying, — " Don't you trouble yourself, Ivdn Ilyitch : I shall get sleep enough." Or when suddenly, using tliou instead of you, would add, — *'If thou wert not sick . . . but since thou art, why not serve thee? " Gerdsim alone did not lie : in Gvevy way it was evi- dent that he alone comprehended what the trouble was, and thought it unnecessary to hide it, and simply pitied his sick barin, who was wasting away. He even said directly when Ivan Ilyitch wanted to send him off to bed, — " We shall all die. Then, why should I not serve 64 THE DEATH OF IVAN ILYITCH. you? " he said, meaning by this that he was not trou- bled by his extra work, for precisely the reason that he was doing it for a dying man, and he hoped, that, when his time came, some one would undertake the same task for him. Besides this lie, or in consequence of it, Ivdn Ilyitch felt the greatest torment from the fact that no one pitied him as he longed that they would pity him. At some moments afjter long agonies he yearned more than all — although he would have been the last to confess it — he yearned for some one to pit}- hira as a sick child is pitied. He longed to be caressed, to be kissed, to be wept for, as a child is caressed and comforted. He knew that he was a magistrate of importance, that his beard was turning gray, and that hence it was impos- sible ; but nevertheless he longed for it. And in his relations with Gerdsim, there was something that ap- proached this. And, therefore, his relations with Gerd- sim comforted him. Ivan Ilyitch would like to weep, would like to be caressed, and had tears shed for him : and here comes his colleague, the member Shebek, and, instead of weeping and being caressed, Ivdn Ilyitch puts on a serious, stern, melancholy expression of countenance, and with all his energy speaks his opinions concerning the significance of a judgment of cassation, and ob- stinately stands up for it. This lie surrounding him, and existing in him, more than all else poisoned Ivdn Ilyitch's last days. THE DEATH OF IVAN ILYITCH. 65 VIII. It was morning. It was morning merely because Gerasim iiad gone, and Piotr, the lackey, had come. He put out the candles, opened one cuvtain, and began noiselessly to put things to rights. Whether it were morning, whether it were evening, Friday or Sunday, all was a matter of indifference to him, all was one and the same thing. The agonizing, shooting pain, never for an instant appeased ; the consciousness of a life hopelessl}^ wasting away, but not yet departed ; the same terrible, cursed death coming nearer and nearer, the one reality, and always the same lie, — what mat- ter, then, here, of days, weeks, and hours of the day ? " '' Will you not have me bring the tea? " '' He must follow form, and that requires masters to take tea in the morning," he thought; and he said merely, — ''No." '' Wouldn't you like to go over to the divan? " "He has to put the room in order, and I hinder him : I am uucleanness, disorder ! " he thought to him- self, and said merely, — "No: leave me ! " The lackey still bustled about a little. Ivan Ilyitch put out his hand. Piotr officiously hastened to him : " What do you command? " "The watch." Piotr got the watch, holding it in his palm, and gave it to him. 66 THE DEATH OF IVAN ILYITCff. " Half-past eight. They aren't up yet?" " No one at all. Vaslli Ivanovitch " (that was his son) "has gone to school, and Praskovia Feodorovna gave orders to wake her up if you asked for her. Do you wish it? " "No, it is not necessary. — Shall I not try the tea?" he asked himself. "Yes — tea — . . . bring me some." Piotr started to go out. Ivan Ilyitch felt scared at being left alone. "How. can I keep him? Yes, my medicine." " riotr, give me my medicine. Why not? perhaps the medicine may help me yet." He took the spoon, sipped it. " No, there is no help. All this is nonsense and delusion," he said, as he immediately felt the familiar, mawkish, hopeless taste. " No, I cannot have an}* faith in it. But this pain, — why this pain? Would that it might cease for a minute ! " And he began to groan. Piotr came back. ' ' Nothing — go ! Bring the tea. ' ' Piotr went out. Ivan Ilyitch, left alone, began to groan, not so much from the pain, although it was horrible, as from mental anguish. "Always the same thing, and the same thing; all these endless da3's and nights. Would it might come very soon! What very soon? Death, blackness? No, no ! Any thing rather than death ! " When Piotr came back with the tea on a traj', Ivan Ilyitch stared long at him in bewilderment, not com- prehending who he w^as, what he was. Piotr was abashed at this gaze ; and when Pjptr showed his con- fusion, Ivan Ilyitch came to himself. THE DEATH OF IVAN ILYITCH. 67 "Yes," said he, "the tea; very well, set it clown. Only help me to wash, and put on a clean shirt." And Ivan Ilyitch began to perform his toilet. With resting-spells he washed his hands and face, cleaned his teeth, began to comb his hair, and looked into the mirror. It seemed frightful, perfectly frightful, to him, to see how his hair lay flat upon his pale brow. While he was changing his shirt, he knew that it would be still more frightful if he gazed at his body ; and so he did not look at himself. But now it was done. He put on his dressing-gown, wrapped himself in his plaid, and sat down in his easy-chair to take his tea. For a single moment he felt refreshed ; but as soon as he began to drink the tea, again that taste, that same pain. He compelled himself to drink it up, and lay down, stretching out his legs. He lay down, and let Tiotr go. Always the same thing. Now a drop of hope gleams, then a sea of despair rises up, and always pain, always melancholy, and always the same monot- ony. It was terribly melancholy to the lonely man : he longs to call in some one, but he knows in advance that it is still worse when others are present. " Even morphine again ... I should forget. I will tell him, tell the doctor, to invent something else. It is impossible, impossible so." One hour, two, passes in this way. But there ! the bell in the corridor. Perhaps 'tis the doctor. Ex- actly : it is the doctor, fresh, heart}', portly, jovial, with that expression as if he said, "You may feel apprehe«sion of something or other, but we will im- mediately straighten things out for you." The doctor knows that this expression is not appro- priate here ; but he has already put it on once for all, 68 TUE DEATH OF IVAN ILYITCH. and he cannot rid himself of it — like a man who has put on his dress-coat in the morning, and gone to make calls. The doctor rubs his hands with an air of hearty assurance. ''I am cold. A healthy frost. Let me get warm a little," says he, with just the expression that signifies that all he needs is to wait until he gets warmed a little, and, when he is warmed, then he will straighten things out. '•'- Well, now, how goes it? '* Ivjin Ilyitch feels that the doctor wants to say, *' How go your little affairs? " but that he feels that it is impossible to say so; and he says, "How did you spend the night? " Ivan Ilyitch looks at the doctor with an expres- sion as though asking the question, " Are you never ashamed of lying? " But the doctor has no desire to understand his question. And Ivdn Ilyitch says^ — " It was just horrible ! The pain does not cease, does not disappear. If you could only give me some- thing for it ! " " That is always the way with you sick folks ! Well, now, it seems to me I am warm enough ; even the most particular Praskovia Feodorovna would not find any thing to take exception to in my temperature. Well, now,^ good-by." And the doctor shakes hands with him. And, laying aside his former jocularity, the doctor begins with serious mien to examine the sick man, his pulse and temperature, and the tappings, and the aus- cultation, » Nu-%. THE DEATH OF IVAN ILYITCH. 69 Ivtin Ilyitch knows certainly, and beyond perad- venture, that all this is nonsense and foolish deception ; but when the doctor, on his knees, leans over toward him, applying his ear, now higher up, now lower down, and with most sapient mien performs various gymnas- tic evolutions before him, Ivdn Ilyitch succumbs to him, as once he succumbed to the discourses of the lawyers, even when he knew perfectly well that they were deceiving him, and why they were deceiving him. The doctor, still on his knees on the divan, was still performing the auscultation, when at the door were heard the rustle of Praskovia Feodorovna's silk dress, and her words of blame to Piotr because she had not been informed of the doctor's visit. She comes in, kisses her husband, and immediately begins to explain that she had been up a long time ; and only through a misunderstanding, she had not been there when the doctor came. Ivdn Ilyitch looks at her, observes her from head to foot, and feels a secret indignation at her fairness, and her plumpness, and the propriety of her hands, her neck, her glossy hair, and the brilliancy of her eyes brimming with life. He hates her with all the strength of his soul, and her touch makes him suffer an actual paroxysm of hatred of her. Her attitude toward him and his malady was the same as before. Just as the doctor had adopted an attitude toward his patients from which he could not depart, so she had adopted one toward him ; namely, that he was not doing what he ought to do, and was himself to blame ; and she liked to reproach him for this, and she could not change her attitude toward him. 70 THE DEATH OF IVAN ILYITCH. " Now, just see ! he does not heed, he does not take his medicine regularly ; and, above all, he lies in a position that is surely bad for him, — his feet up." She related how he made Gerdsim hold his legs. The doctor listened with a disdainfully good-natured smile. ''What is to be done about it, pray? These sick folks are always conceiving some such foolishness. But you must let it go.'* When the examination was over, the doctor looked at his watch ; and then Praskovia Feodorovna declared to Ivdn Ilyitch, that, whether he was willing or not, she was going that very day to call in the celebrated doctor to come and have an examination and consulta- tion with Mikhail Danilovitch (that was the name of their ordinary doctor) . " Now, don't oppose it, please. I am doing this for my own self," she said ironically, giving him to under- stand that she did it all for him, and only on this account did not allow him the right to oppose her. He said nothing, and frowned. He felt that this lie surrounding him was so complicated -that it was now hard to escape from it. She did all this for him, only in her own interest ; and she said that she was doing it for him, while she was in reality doing it for herself, as some incredible thing, so that he was forced to take it in its opposite sense. The celebrated doctor, in fact, came about half-past eleven. Once more they had auscultations ; and learned discussions took place before him, or in the next room, about his kidney, about the blind intestine, and ques- tions and answers in such a learned form, that again the place of the real question of life and death, which now alone faced him, was driven away by the question THE DEATH OF IVAN ILYITCH. 71 of the kidney and the blind intestine, which were not acting as became them, and upon which Mikhail Dani-, lovitch and tliiC celebrity were to fall instantly, and compel to attend to their duties. The famous doctor took leave with a serious but not hopeless expression. And in reply to the timid ques- tion which Ivdn Ilyitch's eyes, shining with fear and hope, asked of him, whether there was a possibility of his getting well, it replied that it was impossible to foretell, but there was a possibiUty. The look of hope with which Ivan Ilyitch followed the doctor was so pathetic that Praskovia Feodorovna, seeing it, even wept, as she went out of the library- door in order to give the celebrated doctor his honora- rium. The raising of his spirits, caused by the doctor's hopefulness, was but temporary. Again the same room, the same pictures, curtains, wall-paper, vials, and his aching, pain-broken body. And Ivdn Ilyitch began to groan. They gave him a subcutaneous injection, and he forgot it. When he came to himself, it was beginning to grow (iusky. Tliey brought him his dinner. He forced himself to eat a little bouillon. And again the same monotony, and again the advancing night. About seven o'clock, after dinner, Praskovia Feodo- rovna came into his room, dressed as for a party, with her exuberant bosom swelling in her stays, and with traces of powder on her face. She had ah-ead}^ that morning told him that they were going to the theatre. S^ah Bernhardt had come to town, and they had a lozha which lie had advised their taking. Now he had forgotten about that, and her toilet offended him. But he concealed his vexation when 72 THE DEATH OF IVAN ILYITCff. he recoUectecl that he himself liad insisted on their taking a lozha, and going, on the ground that it would be an instructive, aesthetic enjoyment for the children. Praskovia Feodorovna came in self-satisfied, but, as it were, feeling a little to blame. She sat down, asked after his health, as he saw, only for the sake of ask- ing, and not so as to learn, knowing that -there was nothing to learn, and began to say what was incum- bent upon her to say, — that she would not have gone for any thing, but that they had taken the lozha ; and that P^len and her daughter and Petrishchef (the ex- amining magistrate, her daughter's betrothed) were going, and it was impossible to let them go alone, but that it would have been more agreeable to her to stay at home with him. Onl^- he should be sure to follow the doctor's prescriptions in her absence. *'Yes — and Feodor Petrovitch" (the bridegroom) " wanted to come in. May he? And Liza? " '' Let them come." The daughter came in, in evening-dress, with her fair 3'oung body, — her body that made his anguish more keen. But she paraded it before him, strong, healthy, evidentl}" in love, and irritated against the dis- ease, the suffering, and death which stood in the way of her happiness. Feodor Petrovitch also entered, in his dress-coat, with curh' hair a la Capoul^ with long, sinewy neck tightly incased in a white standing-collar, with a huge white bosom, and his long, muscular legs in tight black trousers, with a white glove on one hand, and with a Mak. Immediately behind him came the gimnazistik, in his new uniform, poor little fellow, with gloves on, and THE DEATH OF IVAN ILYITCH. 73 with that terrible blue circle under the eyes, the mean- ing of which Ivan Ilyitch understood. He always felt a pity for his son. And terrible was his timid and compassionate glance. With the excep- tion of Gerasim, Vdsya alone, it seemed to Ivdn Ilyitch, understood and pitied him. All sat down : again they asked after his health. Silence ensued. Liza asked her mother if she had the opera-glasses. A dispute arose between mother and daughter as to who had mislaid them. It was a dis- agreeable episode. Feodor Petrovitch asked Ivdn Ilyitch if he had seen Sarah Bernhardt. Ivan Ilyitch did not at first under- stand his question, but in a moment he said, — " No : have you seen her yet? " "Yes, in 'Adrienne Lecouvreur.' '* Praskovia Feodorovna said that she was perfectly splendid in it. The daughter disagreed with her. A conversation arose about the grace and realism of her acting, — the same conversation, which is always and forever one and the same thing. In the midst of the conversation, Feodor Petrovitch glanced at Ivdn Ilyitch, and grew silent. The others glanced at him, and grew silent. Ivdn Ilyitch was looking around with gleaming eyes, evidently indignant at them. Some one had to break the silence. No one spoke ; and a panic seemed to seize them all, lest sud- denly this ceremonial lie should somehow be shattered, and the absolute truth become manifest to all. Liza was the first to speak. She broke the silence. She wished to hide what all felt, but she simply be- trayed it. " One thing is certain, — if we are going^ it is time,'* she said, glancing at her watch, her father's gift ; and 74 THE DEATH OF IVAN ILYITCH. giving the young man a sign, scarcelj' perceptible, and yet understood by him, she smiled, and arose in her rustling dress. All arose, said good-by, and went. When they had gone, Ivan Ilyitch thought that he felt better : there was no more lie ; it had gone with them, but the pain remained. Always this same pain : always this same fear made if impossible to lift it, to better it. It grew always and worse. Again minute after minute dragged by, hour after hour, forever the same monotony, and forever endless, and forever more terrible — the inevitable end. "Yes, send me Gerasim,** was his reply to Piotr's question. THE DEATH OF IVAN ILYITCH 75 IX. Late at night his wife returned. She came in on her tiptoes, but he heard her: he opened his eyes, and quickly closed them again. She wanted to send Gerd-. sim away, and sit with him herself. He opened his eyes, and said, — '' No, go away." " You suffer very much.** *' It makes no difference.** " Take some opium.** He consented, and drank it. She went. Until three o'clock he was in a state of painful tor- por. It seemed to him that they were forcing him cruelly into a narrow black sack, and deep ; and they keep crowding him down, but cannot force him in. And this performance, horrible for him, is accompanied with anguish. And he is afraid, and yet wishes to fall through, and struggles against it, and yet tries to help. And here suddenly he broke through, and fell . . . and awoke. There was Gerasim still sitting at his feet on the bed, dozing peacefully and patiently. But he is lying there with his emaciated legs in stock- ings resting on his shouldei-s, the same candle with its shade, and the same never-ending pain. "Go awaj', Gerasim," he whispered. " It's nothing : I will sit here a little while.*' *' No, go away." He took down his legs, lay on his side on his handy 76 THE DEATH OF IVAN ILYJTCIL and began to pity himself. He waited onl^^ until Gera- 'sim had gone into the next room, and then he no longer tried to control himself, but wept like a child. He wept over his helplessness, over his terrible loneliness, over the hard-heartedness of men, over the hard-heartedness of God, over the absence of God. '^Why hast Thou done this? Why didst Thou place me here? Was it that Thou mightest torture me so hoiTibly? " He did not expect any reply ; and he wept because there was none, and could not be one. The pain seized him again ; but he did not stir, did not call. He said to himself, — ^' There, now, again, now strike ! But why? What have I done to Thee? Why is it? " Then he became silent ; c^sed not only to weep, ceased to breathe, and became all attention : as it were, he heard, not a voice speaking with soui^ids, but the voice of his soul, the tide of his thoughts arising in him. '' What dost thou need? " was the first clear concept possible to be expressed in words which he heard. " ' What dost thou need ? What dost thou need ? '" he said to himself. ''What? Freedom from suffer- ing. To live," he replied. And again he gave his attention, with such effort that already he did not notice his pain. '' To live? how live? " asked the voice of his soul. "' Yes, to live as I used to live — well, pleasantly.'* *' How didst thou live before when thou didst live well and pleasantly?" asked the voice. And he began to call up in his imagination the best moments of his pleasant life. But, strangely enough, .all these best moments of his pleasant life seemed to THE DEATH OF IVAN ILYITCH. 77 nim absolutely different from what they had seemed then, — all, except the earliest remembrances of his childhood. There, in childhood, was something really pleasant, that would give new zest to life if it were to return. But the person who had enjoyed that pleasant existence was no more : it was as though it were the remembrance concerning some one else. As soon as the period began which had produced the present 7ie, IvAn Ilyitch, all the pleasures which seemed such then, now in his eyes dwindled away, and changed into something of no account, and even disgusting. And the farther he departed from infancy, and the nearer he came to the present, so much the less impor- tant and certain were th| pleasures. This began in the law school. There was still some- thing even then that was truly good : then there was gayety, there was friendship, there were hopes. But in the upper classes these good moments became rarer. Then, in the time of his first service at the govern- or's, again appeared good moments: these were the recollections of love for a woman. Then all this be- came confused, and the happy time grew less. The nearer lie came to the present, the worse ft grew, and still worse and worse it grew. His marriage ... so unexpected and disillusioniz- ing, and his wife's breath and sensualit}- , hypocrisy ! And this dead service, and these labors for money ; and thus one year, and two, and ten, and twenty, — and always the same thing. And the longer it went, the more dead it became. '* It is as though all the time I were going down the mountain, while thinking that I was climbing it. So it was. According to public opinion, I was climbing the mountain ; and all the time my life was gliding 78 THE DEATH OF IVAN ILYITCH. I away from under my feet. . . . And here it is already IX . . . die! " What is this? Why? It cannot be! It cannot be that life was so irrational, so disgusting. But even if it is so, so disgusting and irrational, still, why die, and die in such agony? There is no reason. "Can it be that I did not live as I ought?'* sud- denly came into his head. "But how can that be, when I did all that it was my duty to do ? " he asked himself. And immediately he put away this sole ex- planation of the enigma of life and death as something absolutely impossible. "What dost thou wish now? — To live? To live how? To live as thou livest in cou-rt when the usher ^ proclaims, ' The judgment is coming ! the judgment is coming ' ? ^ "The judgment is coming — the judgment," he re- peated to himself. " Here it is, the judgment. Yes ; but I am not' guilty," he cried with indignation. "What for?" And he ceased to weep ; and, turning his face to the wall, he began to think about that one thing, and that alone. " Why, wherefore, all this horror? " But, in spite of all his thoughts, he received no an- swer. And when the thought occurred to him, as it had often occurred to him, that all this came from the fact that he had not lived as he should, he instantly remembered all the correctness of his life, and he drove away this strange thought. ' 1 Sudyibnui pristaf. ' Sud idyot, — a preliminary proclamation, like our oyez. K THE DEATH OF IVAN ILYITCH, 79 X. Thus two weeks passed. Ivdn Ilyitch no longer got up from the divan. He did not wish to lie in bed, and he lay on the divan. And, lying almost all the time with his face to the wall, he suffered in solitude all those inexplicable sufferings, and thought in soli- tude always the same inexplicable thought. *' What is this? Is it true that this is death?'* And an inward voice responded, — *' Yes, it is true." '' Why these torments? '* And the voice responded, — " But it is so. There is no why.** Farther and be3'ond this, there was nothing. From the very beginning of his malady, from the time when Ivdn Ilyitch for the first time went to the doctor, his life was divided into two conflicting ten- dencies, alternately succeeding each other. Now it was despair, and the expectation of an incomprehen- sible and frightful death : now it was hope, and the observation of the functional activity of his body, so full of interest for him. Then before his eyes was the kidney, or the intestine, that, for the time being, failed to fulfil its duty. Then it was that incompre- hensible, horrible death, from which it was impossible for any one to escape. These two mental states, from the very beginning of his illness, kept alternating with one another. But 80 THE DEATH OF IVAN ILYJTCH. the farther the illness progressed, the more dubious and fantastical became his ideas about the kidnej', and the more real his consciousness of approaching death. He had but to call to mind what he had been three months before, and what he was now, to call to mind with what regularity he had been descending the mountain ; and that was sufficient for all possibility of hope to be dispelled. During the last period of this solitude through which he was passing, as he lay with his face turned to the back of the divan, — a solitude amid a populous city, and amid his numerous circle of friends and family, — a solitude deeper than which could not be found anywhere, either in the depths of the sea, or in the earth, — during the last period of this strange soli- tude, Ivan Ilyitch lived only in the imagination of the past. One after another, the pictures of his past life arose before him. They always began with the time nearest to the present, and went back to the very remotest, — to his childhood, and there they rested. Ivdn Ilyitch remembered the stewed prunes which they gave him to eat that very day ; then remembered the raw, puckery French prunes of his childhood, their peculiar taste, -and the abundance of saliva caused by the stone. And in connection with these recollections of taste, started a whole series of recollections of that time, — his nurse, his brother, his toys. "I must not think about these things: it is too painful," said Iv^n Ilyitch to himself. And again he transported himself to the present, — the button on the back of the divan, and the wrinkles of the morocco. "Morocco is dear, not durable. There was a quarrel about it. But there was some other morocco, and some THE DEATH OF IVAN ILYITCH. 81 other quarrel, when we tore father's portfolio, and got punished, and mamma brought us some patties." ^ And again his thoughts reverted to childhood ; and again it was painful to Ivan Ilyitch, and he tried to avoid it, and think of something else. And again, together with this current of recollec- tions, there passed through his mind another current of recollections about the progress and rise of his dis- ease. Here, also, according as he went back, there was more and more of life. There was more, also, of excellence in life, and more of life itself. And the two were confounded. "Just as this agony goes from worse to worse, so also all my life has gone from worse to worse," he thought. ''One shining point, then, in the distance, in the beginning of life ; and then all growing blacker and blacker, swifter and swifter, in inverse proportion to the distance from death," thought Ivan Ilyitch. And the comparison of a stone falling with accel- erating rapidity occurred to his mind. Life, a series of increasing tortures, always sped swifter and swifter to the end, — the most horrible torture. " I am flying." He shuddered, he tossed, he wished to resist it. But he already knows that it is impossible to resist ; and again, with eyes weary of looking, but still not able to resist looking at what was before him, he stares at the back of the divan, and awaits, awaits this frightful fall, shock, and destruction. "It is impossible to resist," he said to himself. " But can I not know the wherefore of it? Even that is impossible. It might be explained by saying that I had not lived as I ought. But it is impossible to acknowledge that," he said to himself, recollecting all » FirozhM, 82 THE DEATH OF IVAN ILYITCH. the law-abidingness, the uprightness, the propriety of his life. "It is impossible to admit that," he said to himself, with a smile on his lips, as though some one were to see that smile of his, and be deceived by it. " No explanation ! torture, death . . . why?" THE DEATH OF IVAN ILYITCH. 83 XI. Thus passed two weeks. In these weeks, there occurred an event desired by Ivan Ilyitch and his wife. Petrishchef made a formal proposal. This took place in the evening. On the next day, Praskovia Feodor- ovna went to her husband, meditating in what way to explain to him Feodor Petrovitch's proposition ; but that very same night, a change for the worse took place in IvAn Ilyitch's condition. Praskovia Feodorovna found him on the same divan, but in a new position. He was lying on his back : he was groaning, and look- ing straight up with a fixed stare. She began to speak about medicines. He turned his glance upon her. She did not finish saying what she had begun, so great was the hatred against her ex- pressed in that look. " For Christ's sake, let me die in peace ! " said he. She wanted to gg out ; but just at this instant the daughter came in, and came near to wish him good- morning. He looked at his daughter as he had looked at his wife, and, in reply to her questions about his health, told her dryly that he would quickly relieve them all of his presence. Neither mother nor daughter said any thing more ; but they sat a few moments longer, and then went out. "What are we to blame for?" said Liza to her mother. ''As if we had made him so ! I am sorry for papa, but why should he torment us? " 84 THE DEATH OF IVAN ILYITCIL At the usual time the doctor came. Ivdn Iljntch answered " j^cs," "no," not changing his expression of exasperation ; and at last he said, — " Here, you know that you don't help any, so leave me!" " We can appease your sufferings," said the doctor. " You cannot even do that : leave me ! " The doctor went into the sitting-room, and advised Praskovia Feodorovna that it was very serious, and that there was only one means — opium — of appeasing his sufferings, which must be terrible. The doctor said that his physical sufferings were ter- rible, and this was true ; but more terrible than his physical sufferings were' his moral sufferings, and in this was his chief torment. His moral sufferings consisted in the fact that that very night, as he looked at Gerasim's sleepy, benevolent face, with its high cheek-bones, it had suddenly come into his head, " But how is it if in reality ray whole life, my conscious life, has been wrong? " ^ It came into his head that what had shortly before presented itself to him as an absolute impossibility, — that he had not lived his life as he ought, — might be true. It came into his head that the scarcely recogniz- able, desires to struggle against what men highest in position considered good, — desires scarcely recogniz- able, which he had immediately banished, — might be true, and all the rest might be w^'ong. And his ser- vice, and his course of life, and his family, and these interests of society, and office — all this might be false. He endeavored to defend all this before himself. And suddeul}' he realized all the weakness of what he was defendins. And there was nothing to defend. Nyi to. THE DEATH OF IVAN ILYITCH. 85 *' But if this is so," he said to himself, '' and I am departing from life with the consciousness that I have wasted all that was given me, and that it is impossible to rectify it, what then? " He lay flat on his back, and began entirely anew to examine his whole life. When in the morning he saw the lackey, then his wife, then his daughter, then the doctor, each one of their motions, each one of their words, confirmed for him the terrible truth which had been disclosed to him that night. He saw in them himself, all that for which he had lived ; and he saw clearly that all this was wrong, all this was a terrible, monstrous lie, concealing both life and death. This consciousness increased, added tenfold to, his physical sufferings. He groaned and tossed, and threw off the clothes. It seemed to him that they choked him, and loaded him down. And this is why he detested them. They gave him a great dose of opium : he became unconscious, but at dinner-time the same thing began again. He drove them from him, and threw himself from place to place. His wife came to him, and said, " Jean, darling,^ do this for me {for me !) . It cannot do any harm, and sometimes it helps. It is a mere nothing, 3'ou see. And often well people try it." He opci^ed his eyes wide. ''What? Take the sacrament? Why? It's not necessary. But, however "... She burst into tears. " Will you, my dear? I will get our priest. He is so sweet ! " ''Excellent! very good," he continued. 1 Galubchik ; literally, little pigeon. 86 THE DEATH OF IVAN ILYITCH. When the priest came, and confessed him, he became calmer, felt, as it were, an alleviation of his doubts, and consequently of his sufferings ; and there came a moment of hope. He again began to think about the blind intestine and the possibility of curing it. He took the sacrament with tears in his eyes. When they put him to bed after the sacrament, he felt comfortable for the moment, and once more hope of life appeared. He began to think of the operation which they had proposed. " I want to live, to live," he said to himself. His wife came to congratulate him. She said the customaiy words, and added, — " You feel better, don't you? " Without looking at her, he said, — ^^Yes." Her hope, her temperament, the expression of her face, the sound of her voice, all said to him one thing, — "Wrong! all that for which thou hast lived, and thou livest, is falsehood, deception, hiding from thee life and death." And as soon as he expressed this thought, his exas- peration returned, and, together with his exasperation, the phj^sical, tormenting agony; and with the agony, the consciousness of inevitable death close at hand. Something new took place : it seamed as if a screw, were being driven into him, as if a shot were fired at him, and his breathing was constricted. The expression of his face, when he said "yes," was terrible. After he had said that '^ yes," he looked straight into her face, and then threw himself on his face with extraordinary quickness for one in his weak state, and cried, — " Go away ! go away ! leave me ! " THE DEATH OF IVAN ILYITCH. 87 XII. From that moment began that shriek that did not cease for three days, and was so terrible, that, when it was heard two rooms away, it was impossible to hear it without terror. At the moment that he answered his wife, he felt that he was lost, that there was no return, that the end had come, absolutely the end, and the question was not settled, but remained a question. " U ! uu ! u ! " he cried in varying intonations. He began to shriek, '''N'y4khotchu'' (''I won't"); and thus he kept up the cry on the letter u. Three whole days, during which for him there was no time, he struggled in that black sack wherein an in- visible, invincible power was thrusting him. He fought as one condemned to death fights in the hands of the hangman, knowing that he cannot save himself, and at every moment he felt, that, notwithstandhig all the vio- lence of his struggle, he was nearer and nearer to that which terrified him. He felt that his suffering con- sisted, both in the fact that he was being thrust into that black hole, and still more that he could not make his way through into it. What hindered him from making his way through was the confession that his life had been good. This justification of his life caught him, and did not let him advance, and above all tor- mented him. Suddenly some force knocked him in the breast, in the side, still more forcibly compressed his breath : he 88 THE DEATH OF IVAN ILYITCH. was hurled through the hole, and there at the bottom of the hole some light seemed to shine upon him. It happened to him as it sometimes does on a railway carriage when you think that 3^ou are going forwaid, but are really going backward, and suddenly recognize the true direction. "Yes, all was wrong," ^ he said to himself; " but that is nothing. I might, I might have done right. What is right (io) ? " he asked himself, and suddenly stopped. This was at the end of the third day, at the hour of his death. At this very same time the little student'^ noiselessly stole into his father's room, and approached his bed. The moribund was continually shrieking des- perately, and tossing his arms. His hand struck upon the little student's head. The little student seized it, pressed it to his lips, and burst into tears. It was at this very same time that Ivdn Ilyitch fell through, saw the light, and it was revealed to him that bis life had not been as it ought, but that still it was possible to repair it. He was just asking himself *' What is right?" "and stopped to listen. Then he felt that some one was kissing his hand. He opened his eyes, and looked at his son. He felt sorry for him. His wife came to him. He looked at her. With open mouth, and with her nose and cheeks wet with tears, with an expression of despair, she was looking at him. He felt sorry for her. "Yes, I am a torment to them," he thought. " I am sorry for them, but they will be better off when I am dead." He wanted to express this, but he had not the strength to say it. ^it^yeto. 2 Gimnaaistik. THE DEATH OF IVAN ILYITCH. 89 *' However, why should I sa}' it? I must do it.'* He pointed out his son to his wife by a glance, and said, '^ Take him away. . . . I am sorry . . . and for thee.'* He wanted to say also, " Prosti " ("Forgive "), but he said ^^ Propusti " (" Let it pass "); and, not having the strength to correct himself, he waved his hand, knowing that he would comprehend who had the right. And suddenly it became clear to him, that what op- pressed him, and was hidden from him, suddenly was lighted up for him all at once, and on two sides, on ten sides, on all sides. He felt sorry for them : he felt that he must do some- thing to make it less painful for them. To free them, and free himself, from these torments, '' How good and how simple ! " he thought. " But the pain," he asked himself, " where is it? — Here, now,^ where art thou, pain?" He began to listen. " Yes, here it is ! Well, then,^ do your worst, pain ! " " And death? where is it? " He tried to find his former customary fear of death, and could not. . " Where is death ? What is it? " There was no fear, because there was no death. In place of death was light ! " Here is something like ! " he suddenly said aloud. "What joy!" For him all this passed in a single instant, and the significance of this instant did not vary. For those who stood by his side, his death-agony was prolonged two hours more. In his breast something bubbled up, his emaciated body shuddered. Then *^« ka, * iV^w chtozh. 90 THE DEATH OF IVAN TLYTTCH. more and more rarely came the bubbling and the rat- tling. " It is all over," said some one above him. He heard these words, and repeated them in his soul. *' It is over ! death ! " he said to himself. " It does not exist more." He drew in one more breath, stopped in the midst, stretched himself, and died. IF YOU NEGLECT THE FIRE, YOU DON'T PUT IT OUT. "Then came Peter to him, and said, Lord, how oft shall my brother sin against me, and I forgive hira? till seven times? Jesus saitb unto him, I say not unto thee, Until seven times: but, Until seventy times seven. Therefore is the kingdom of heaven liltened unto a certain king, which would take account of his servants. And when he had begun to reckon, one was brought unto him, which owed him ten thousand talents. But forasmuch as he had not to pay, his lord commanded hira to'be sold, and his wife, and children, and all that he had, and payment to be made. The servant therefore fell down, and worshipped him, saying. Lord, liave patience with me, and I will pay thee all. Then the lord of that servant was moved with compassion, and loosed him, and forgave him the debt. But the same servant went out, and found one of his fellowservants, which owed liim an hundred pence : and he laid iiands on him, and took him by the throat, saying. Pay me that thou owest. And his fellowservant fell down at his feet, and besought him, saying, Have patience with me, and I will pay thee ail. And he would not : but went and ca^t him into prison, till he should pay the debt. So when his fellowservants saw what was done, they were very sorry, and came and told unto their lord all that was done. Then his lord, after that he had called him, said unto him, O thou wicked servant, I forgave thee all that debt, because thou deslredst me : Shouldest not thou also have had compassion on thy fellowservant even as I had pity on thee? And his lord was wroth, and delivered him to the tormentors, till he should pay all that was due unto him. So likewise shall my heavenly Father do also unto you, if ye from your hearts forgive not every one his brother their trespasses." — Matt, xviii. 21-35. Ivan Shcherbakof, a peasant, lived in the country. He lived well. He had perfect health, he was the best workman in the village, and he had three sons grown 92 IF YOU NEGLECT THE FIRE, up : one was married, one was engaged, and the third was a lad who was just beginning to tend the horses and plough. His old wife, Ivanova, was a clever 6«6a, and a good housekeeper ; and the daughter-in-law was peaceful and industrious. All that Ivan had to do was to live with his family. The only idle mouth in his household was his infirm old fatlier. (For six years he had been lying on the oven, suffering from asthma.) Ivdn had plenty of everj' thing: he had three horses and a colt, a cow with a calf, and fifteen sheep. The babas not only mended their husbands* clothes, but made them, and also worked in the field : the muzhiks worked like true i)easants. The old grain held out till the new came. They paid their taxes, and supplied all their necessities, with their oat-crop. All Ivdn had to do was to live with his children. But in the next dvor lived Ivdn's neighbor, Gavrilo, a cripple, the son of Gordyei Ivanof. And a quarrel arose between them. As long as the old Gordyei* was alive, and Ivan's father was manager, the muzhiks lived like exemplary neighbors. If the babas needed a sifter or a tub, or the muzhiks needed a corn-cloth or a new wheel, they would send from one yard to the other, and, like good neighbors, accommodate each other. If a calf broke into the threshing-floor, they would drive it out, and only say, '" Look out, don't let him come in again : we have not moved the corn yet." But as for hiding or locking things up, either the threshing-floor or the shed, or quarrelling, such things never happened. Thus they got along while the old folks were alive. But when the next generation took the reins, a new state of things came about. The whole trouble arose from a trifle. YOU DON'T PUT IT OUT, 93 A little hen belonging to Ivan's daughter-in-law took to laying early in the season. The young wife began to collect the eggs for Easter. Every day she went after the eggs to the wagon-box that stood in the shed. But the children, it seems, scared the hen, which flew over the fence into the neighbor's yard, and there began to lay. The young woman heard the little hen cack- ling : she thinks, " I haven't time now: I must clean up the izbd ^ against the holidays. I'll go and get it by and by. In the evening she went to the shed, to the wagon-box : not a sign of an egg. The moloddika began to ask her mother-in-law and her brother-in-law if they had taken any oat: '' No," say they, ** we haven't." But Taraska, the smallest brother-in-law, says, — '^ Your bantam has been laying over in the next yard. She was cackling over there, and she came flying back from there." And the molodd'ika looked at her bantam : she was sitting next the cockerel on the roost ; her eyes were already shut ; she was just going to sleep. And she would have asked her where she had been laying, if the hen could only have answered. And the moloddika went over to her neighbors. The old woman came to the door. *' What do you want, molodka?" '^Well," says she, "bdushka,^ my little bantam flew over into your yard to day. I wonder if she didn't lay an egg ? ' * " We haven't seen it at all. Our own hens, thank God, have been laying this long time. We gathered up our own, but we don't need other folks's. We, my * Peasant's cottage. 3 BauBbka, fur babushka, old woman or grandmother. 94 IF YOU NEGLECT THE FIRE, little girl, never go into strangers' yards to collect eggs." This was an insult to the moloddika ; she said things that she ought not : the neighbor replied in the same way, and the babas began to berate each other. Ivanof's wife came out after water, and she also put in her woixi. Gavrilo's wife rushed out of the room, began to blame her neighbor : she recalled things that had happened, and added things that had never hap- pened. A regular thunder-storm ensued. All screamed at once, and tried to say two words at a time. Yes, and the words were all bad : " You are such and such," "3'ou are a thief," "you are a trollop," " you starve your old father-in-law, " * ' you are a beast.' * ''And you mean little beggar that you are, you made a hole in my sieve ! " — " And j'ou've got our bucket- yoke.^ I want it back again." They caught hold of the bucket-yoke, spilt the water, tore off each other's shawls, and began to fight. Just here Gavrilo came in from the field, and took his baba's part. Ivdn and his son rushed over, and they all fell in a heap. Ivdn was a strong muzhik, and threw them all in different directions. He tore out a handful of Gavrilo's whiskers. A crowd collected, and it was hard to separate them. This was the beginning of it. Gavrilo wrapped up his bunch of whiskers in a piece of writing-paper, and brought suit in the district court. " I did not grow it," says he, " for the sake of let- ting that pigheaded Vdnka pull it out." And his wife kept telling her neighbors that now they would get Ivdn into a scrape, send him to Siberia ; and so the quarrel went on. ^KoromuiHlo, the yoke which is used for carrying water. rOU DON'T PUT IT OUT. 95 From the very first day the old man, as he lay on the oven, tried to pacify them ; but the young people would not listen to him. He said to them, — *' Children, you are acting foolishly ; and it was from a piece of foolishness that the whole thing started. Just think, the whole trouble is about an egg ! Sup- pose the children did pick up the little egg. Why, let them have it.^ One egg isn't worth much. God has plenty for all. Well, suppose she did say a bad word ; you ought to have corrected it; you ought to have taught her to say better things. Well, you've had your fight — we are all sinners! Such things happen. Now go and make it up, and all will be forgotten ! But, if you act out of spite, things will go from bad to worse for you." The younger ones did not listen : they thought the old man was talking nonsense, and was only grumbling, as old men are apt to do. Ivdn did not give in to his neighbor. '' I did not pull his whiskers," says he, " he pulled them himself ; but his son tore out all my eye-hooks, and tore the shirt off my back. Just look at it ! " And Ivdn also went to court. The case was tried before the magistrate and at the district court. While they were at law, a bolt was missing from Gavrilo's tely^ga. Gavrilo's babas accused Ivdn's son of steal- ing it. ** We ourselves saw him go by the window," they said, " on his way to the tely^ga ; and the godmother said that he stopped at the tavern, and tried to sell the bolt to the tavern-keeper." Another suit was begun ; and at home every day, there was a new quarrel, a new fight. The little children, » LiteraUy, " ^m/ God be with them ! '» 96 IF YOU l^EGLECT TEE FIRE, imitating their elders, quarrelled ; and the babas, when they met at the river, did not pound so much with their paddles as they clacked with theh* tongues, and all to no good. At first the muzhiks only accused each other, but in course of time they actually began to steal whatever happened to be \y\ng round. And the women and children also learned to do the same. Their lives grew constantly- worse and worse. Ivdn Shcherbakof and Gavrilo the cripple had their cases tried before the commune, and in the district court, and before the justice of the peace, until all the judges were weary of it : either Gavrilo had Ivan fined and put into jail, or Ivdn would do the same to Gavrilo. And the more harm they did to each other, the angrier they became. When dogs get to fighting, the more the}' tear each other, the more desperate they become. If some one pounds the dog from behind, he thinks it is the other dog that is biting, and grows madder still. So it was with these muzhiks. They went ahead with their lawsuits : either one or the other would get pun- ished by fine or arrest ; and for all that, their hearts were filled with still greater hatred. " Just wait ! I'll get even with you yet ! " Thus their affairs dragged on for six years. Still the old man on the oven kept saying the same thing. He used to try to reason with them : — "What are 3'ou doing, children? Drop all these doings ; don't neglect your business, and don't bear malice ; it will be much better. For the angrier you get, the worse it becomes." They pay no attention to the old man. On the seventh year it came to pass that at a wed- ding, Ivdn's daughter-in-law insulted Gavrilo in the YOU DON'T PUT IT OUT. 97 presence of the people. She began to accuse him of horse-stealing. Gavrllo was drunk ; he could not con- trol his temper, and he struck the baba ; he hit her so hard that she was confined to her bed for a whole week, for she was a rather stout baba. Iv^n was glad of the occurrence, and he went for a warrant at the magistrate's. '^ Now," thinks he, "I shall square accounts with my neighbor: he shall not escape prison or Siberia." But again IvAn lost his case. The magistrate did not accept his petition : the baba was examined ; when the baba got up, there were no marks at all on her. Ivan went to the justice of the peace, and the latter trans- ferred the case to the district court. Ivdn began to bother the volost : he drank up two or three gallons of mead with the secretary and the elder, ^ and he succeeded in having Gavrilo sentenced to be whipped. They read the sentence to Gavrilo in court. The secretary read it: — "The court has decided that the peasant Gavrilo Gordy6ef is to be punished with twenty lashes in pres- ence of the court." IvAn also listens to the sentence, and looks at Ga- vrilo : — " Now, what will become of him? " Gavrilo listened to it, turned as white as a sheet, turned around, and went out into the ante-chamber. Iv^n followed him, started to go to his horse ; but he heard Gavrilo saying, — " All right," says he : " he will lash my back ; it will burn : but something worse may happen to him." Ivdn heard these words, and immediately turned to the judges. *'Just judges! he has threatened to set my house 1 Starshind. 98 JF YOU NEGLECT THE FIRE, on fire! Listen: he said it in the presence of wit- nesses Gavrilo was called back. "Is it true you said so? '* " I said nothing. Lash me, since you have the power. It seems that I am the only one to suffer, though I am right ; but he's allowed to do any thing." Gavrilo wanted to say more, but his lips and cheeks began to tremble. And he turned his face to the par- tition. Even the judges were ft-ightened as they looked at Gavrilo. " Now," they think, " suppose he actually makes up his mind to do some harm to his neighbor or himself." And the little old judge began to speak : — " See here, brothers ! you had better make up your minds to become friends again. You, brother Gavrilo, did you do right in striking the stout baba? It is for- tunate for you that God spared her, else what a sin you would have committed. Was it right? Confess, and ask his pardon, and he will forgive you. Then we'll change the sentence." When the secretary heard it, he said, " This cannot be done, because, according to the 117th article, there was no peaceful settlement ; but the judge's sentence was passed, and the sentence must be carried out." But the judge did not heed the secretary. "Your tongue has itched to speak long enough. There is only one article, and that is the first. Remember God ; and God has commanded that you become reconciled.'* And again the judge tried to persuade the muzhiks, but his words were in vain. Gavrilo paid no heed to his words. " I am almost fifty years old," he says. " I have a married son, and I was never beaten in all my life ; but now this pig-headed Vanka has brought me under the YOU DON'T PUT IT OUT. 99 lash, and yet I am to ask his forgiveness, am I ? Well — it will — let Vanka look out for me ! '* Gavrilo's voice trembled again : he could talk no longer. He turned around and went out. It was ten versts from the court-house to the door, and it was lute when Ivan went home. The babas had already gone to get the cattle. He unharnessed his horses, put things away, and went into the house. There was no one in the izba. The children had not yet returned from the field, and the babas were after the cattle. Ivdn went in, sat down on the bench, and became lost in thought. He remembered how the sentence was read to Ga- vrilo, and how he turned pale, and faced the partition ; and his heart felt oppressed. He imagined himself in the same position, about to receive the punishment of lashes. And he began to pity Gavrilo. And he heard the old man coughing on the oven, then shifting from side to side, stretching out his legs, and then clamber- ing down to the floor. The old man clambered down, dragged himself to the bench, and sat down. The old man found it hard to drag himself to the bench ; he coughed and coughed ; and when his coughing-fit was over, he leaned his elbows on the table, and says, — '' Well, was he sentenced? " Ivdn saj^s, — "Sentenced to twenty lashes.'* The old man shook his head. "You are doing wrong, Ivdn!'* says he. "Akh! wrong ! Not to him, but to yourself, yow are doing wrong. Now, suppose they lash his back : will it do you any good? " " He won't do it any more," said Ivdn. 100 IF YOU NEGLECT THE FIRE, "What won't he do an}'- more? Is he doing any thing worse than you do? " '' Do j^ou want to know what he has done to me? " asked Ivdn. " Why, he nearly killed the baba, and even now he threatened to set the house on fire ! Why must I beg his pardon for it? " The old man sighed, and said, — "This whole free world is open for you, Ivdn, to come and go upon; and because I have been lying on the oven for these last few years, you must think that 3'ou see all, and I see nothing. No, young man, you see nothing at all : anger has blinded your eyes. The faults of others are before you, but your own are behind your back. You say he did wrong : if he were the only man to do wrong, then there would be no wickedness in the world. Does wrong arise among people on account of one man? There must be two in a quarrel. You can see his sins, but you can't see your own. Had he been the only one to do wrong, and you had done right, there would have been no quarrel. Who pulled out his beard ? Who threw down his hay-rick? Who dragged him around in the courts? And yet you blame him for every thing ! Your own life is wrong, and that is bad. That isn't the way I used to live, brother: that isn't what I taught you. Is that the way that the old man — his father — and I used to live? How did we live? Like good neighbors. If he was out of flour, the baba would come — ' Uncle Frol, we are out of flour.' — •• Just go to the closet, young woman, and get what you need." He had no one to tend to the horses — ^ Go, Vanyatka,^ and take care of his horses.' And whatever I am short of, I go to him — ' Uncle Gordy^i, I need such and such a thing.' — ' Take it, uncle Frol ! ' And so it used to 1 Diminished diminutive of Ivan. YOU DON'T PUT IT OUT. 101 go with us. And it used to be the same nice way with you. And how is it now? Now, a soldier was telling about Plevna : well, your quarrel is worse than that of Plevna. Is this living? It's a sin ! You are a muzhik, you are master of a house. You will have to answer for it. What are you teaching your babas and children to do ? To fight like dogs ! The other day, Taraska, that dirty-nosed i-ascal, was abusing aunt Arina and her mother's memory, and his own mother was enjoying it. Is that good? You'll have to answer for it. Just think about your soul. Ought things to go on this way ? You give me a word — I give you two back : you give me a slap — I give back two. No, my dear. Christ went about on earth, but he did not teach us fools such things. If a word is said to you, hold your peace : his own conscience will accuse him. That is the way he taught us, bdtiushka. If any one slap you, turn the other cheek : ' Here, strike, if I am worth it.' And his conscience will prick him. He will be disarmed, and will hear what you have to say. That is the wa}^ He commanded us, but not to be stiff-necked. Why don't you say something? am I not telling you tiie truth? " Ivan is silent — he is listening. The old man had a fit of coughing ; raised some phlegm, and began to speak again. *' Do you think that what Christ taught us is wrong? It was intended for us for our good. Think about your earthly life : has it been good, or bad, for you since this Plevna began between you? Just count up how much 3'ou have lost by these lawsuits, your travel- ling expenses, and all you have spent in eating. Those sons of yours are growing like young eagles : you ought to be living and enjoying life, and ' climb the mountain ; ' 102 IF YOU NEGLECT THE FIRE, and here you are losing what you have ! And why is it? It is all for nothing ! All because of your pride ! You ought to go with your children, and work in the field, and do the planting yourself ; but the Devil drives you off, either to the judge or to the pettifogger. You are late in getting up, you don't plant at the right time, and mdtushka Earth does not bring forth her fruit. Why were there no oats this year ? When did you sow them ? When you came from town ! And what did you gain ? You got up to your neck ! Ekh ! you foolish fellow ! just attend to business. Work with your boys in the field and in the house : and if any one insults you, then forgive them in God's name ; and you will be far better off, and your heart will feel much easier.'* Ivdn said nothing. " Just see here, Vanya ! Listen to me : I am an old man. Go and harness the roan, go right back to court again, have all your cases dismissed, and in the morn- ing go to Gavrilo, beg his forgiveness in God's name, invite him to the house, — to-moiTow is a holiday (this happened to be Christmas Eve), — light the sam- ovarchik,^ bring out a bottle, and clear up all the sins so that they may not happen again, and tell the babas and the children to do the same." Ivdn sighed, and thinks, '^ The old man says right," and his heart softened : only he does not know how to begin, how to become reconciled now. And the old man began again, as though he read his thoughts. '* Go ahead, Vanya ! don't put it off. Put out the fire when it first begins ; but when it burns up, it is haid to do it." > Little tea-urn. YOU DON'T PUT IT OUT. 103 The old man started to say something more, but he did not finish : the babas came into the izbd, and it sounded like a convention of crows. All the news had reached them, — how Gavrilo had been sentenced to be lashed, and how he had threatened to set their house on fire. They had heard every thing, and they made their own additions ; and they had already suc- ceeded in getting into a quarrel with Gavrilo's babas, in the pasture. They began to tell how Gavrilo's daughter-in-law had threatened to set the marshal on them. The mar- shal, it seems, takes Gavrilo's part. He will reverse the whole case : and the school-teacher, it seems, had written a second petition to the tsar himself, against Ivdn, and put in the petition all the things, about the bolt, and about the garden, and half of the farm would now be given to them. As Ivdn listened to their speeches, his heart grew hard again, and he changed his mind about becoming reconciled with Gavrilo. The farmer always has many things to do about his dvor. Ivdn did not care to talk to the babas, so he got up and left the izbd : he went to the threshing-floor and to the shed. Before he had finished his work, and returned to the door, the little sun was already set : the boys, too, had come in from the field. They were pre- paring to plough for the spring-corn. Ivdn met them, asked them about their work ; he helped them put away their tools, laid aside the torn horse-collar ; he was going also to put away the poles under the shed, but it had already become quite dark. Ivdn left the poles till the next daj', but he fed the cattle : he opened the gates, and let Taraska take his horses to the pasture for the night, and shut them again, set up the gate-pole. ''Now for supper and bed," 104 IF YOU NEGLECT THE FIRE, thought Ivdn, as he picked up the torn collar, and went into the izba. By this time he had forgotten all about Gavrilo, and all that his father had said to him. He had scarcely taken hold of the door-knob, and entered the vestibule, when he heard his neighbor from behind the fence scolding some one in a hoarse voice. ''Who in the Devil is Gavrilo pitching into now? " "He ought to be killed! " When IvAn heard these words, all his foraier anger against his neighbor arose in him. He stood for a while and listened while Gavrilo was scolding. When Gavrilo became quiet, Ivdn went into the izbd. He entered the izba. The izbd was lighted up. The molo- daika was sitting in one corner with her spinning- wheel, the old woman was getting supper, the oldest son was twisting cloth around his lapti.^ The second one was sitting by the table with a little book. Taraska was going out for the night. In the izbd, all had been pleasant, comfortable, if it had not been for this bad neighbor. Ivdn came in angry, pushed the cat from the bench, scolded the babas because the slop-pail wasn't in the right place. Ivdn felt blue ; he sat down, frowned, and began to mend the horse-collar ; and Gavrilo's words kept rising in his mind, how he threatened him at court, and how he just now shouted in a hoarse voice about some one, " He ought to be killed ! " The old woman prepared supper for Taraska : he ate it, put on his sheep^skin shubyonka, his kaftan, put on * Lapti are the wooden sandals worn by the peasants of Great Russia and White Russia instead of boots; the leg being wrapped up in rags or cloths, and fastened with strings. One of the Russian poets sings, ''Starania sapogi, lapti gidaiut ; " — " Away with boots, let the lapti have full sway;" that is, the peasant will sometime have his share in the world's fun." YOU DON'T PUT IT OUT. 105 his belt, took some bread, and went out to his horses. Ilis older brother intended to see him out ; but Ivdn rose, and went to the front steps. It was already dusky on the street ; it was beginning to grow quite dark ; the clouds covered the sky, and a wind sprung up. Ivdn descended the steps, helped his son to mount, stirred up the little colt, then he stood for a while looking and listening as Taniska galloped down through tlie village, as he greeted the other boys, and as they all went out of hearing distance. Ivan stood long at the gate, and Gavrilo's words did not leave his mind: " Something worse may happen to you." ''He would not take pity on himself," thought Ivtln. " Every thing is dried up, and there is a wind besides. He might get in from the rear, start a fh'e, and all would be up with us : the villain might burn us up, and not get caught. Now, if I could only catch him, he would not get ofif so easy." And thus it occurred to Ivdn not to go back by the front way ; but he went straight into the street, and hid in a corner behind the gate. " No, I'll go round the dvor. Who knows what he's up to now ? ' ' And Ivdn crept quietly alongside of the gates. Just as he turned around the corner, and looked in the direc- tion of the fence, it seemed to him that he saw some- thing move in the corner, as though some one stuck his head out, and then hid again. Ivdn stood still, and held his breath. He listened, and strained his eyes ; all was quiet ; only the wind was rustling the little leaves on the twigs, and whistling in the straw-heap. Sometimes it was as dark as a pocket.^ And then, again, his eyes got accustomed to 1 Literally, " as though an eye were taken out." 106 TF YOU NEGLECT THE FIRE, the darkness ; and Ivdn could see the whole corner, and the sok ha- plough, and the sloping roof. He stood for a while, and gazed, but there was no one to be seen. "It must have been a deception," thought Ivdn : *' still, I will make a turn around." And he went stealthily alongside the shed. Ivdn crept softly, in his sabots, so that he himself could not hear his own steps. He reached the corner, and lo ! at the very farther end something near the plough flashed up and instantly vanished again. A pang seized Ivdn's heart, and he stood still. He had scarcely stopped before a brighter light flashed up in the same place, and a man with a cap on was plainly seen squatting down with his back turned, and was trying to kindle a bundle of straw that he held in his hand. Ivdn's heart began to flutter like a bird ; and he braced himself up, and advanced with long steps, but so cautiously that he himself could not hear them. "Now," says he to himself, "I've got him now: I've caught him in the very act." But before Ivdn had gone two more steps, suddenly something flared up brightlj', — brightly, but in an en- tirely different place ; and it was no small fire, either : and the straw blazed up under the pent-roof, and began to spread toward the house ; and then Gavrilo was seen standing in the light. Like a hawk on a sparrow, Ivdn threw himself on the cripple. " I'll choke the life out of him ! he won't escape me this time," he says to himself. But the cripple must have heard his steps : he looked around, and, in spite of his lameness, leaped like a rabbit toward the shed. YOU DON'T PUT IT OUT. 107 " You sha'n't escape ! " shouted Ivdn, and he flew after him. But just as he was about to get him by the collar, Gavrilo slipped from under his hand, and Ivan caught him by the coat-tail. The coat-tail tore out, and Ivan fell. Ivdn leaped to his feet. ''Help! Catch him!" And he started after him again. But, by the time he got to his feet, Gavrilo was already at his own dvor ; but Ivan cauglit up with him, even then. But, as he tried to lay hands on him, some- thing struck him on the head, as though a stone had hit his temple. It was Gavrilo, who had picked up an oak stave ; and when Ivdn came up to him, he struck him on the head with all his force. Ivdn saw stars ; every thing grew dark ; he staggered, and fell senseless. When he came to, Gavrilo was gone ; it was as light as day ; in the direction of his yard, there was a noise like a machine, a crackling and roaring. Ivdn turned around, and saw that the back- shed was already gone, that the side-shed was on fire, and the flame and smoke and burning straw were drift- ing toward the izbd. ''What does this mean? Heavens and earth, bratsui! " ^ exclaimed Ivdn, lifting his hand, and slap- ping his thigh. "All it needs, is to pull down the pent-roof, and trample it out. What does it mean, b j'ctts u iV* he repeated . He tried to shout, but he had no breath : his voice stuck in his throat. He tried to run, but his feet refused to move : they tripped each other up. He merely walked and staggered : again his breath failed him. He stood for a moment, got his wind, and then started again. While he was making his wa}' round * Bratsui, literally brothere. 108 IF YOU NEGLECT THE FIRE, to the shed, and getting to the fire, the side-shed also burned to the ground, and the corner of the izba and the gates caught fire. The flames poured up from the izbd, and all entrance to the door was cut off. A great crowd gathered, but nothing could be done. The neigh- bors were carrying out their own effects, and driving their cattle out of their yards. After Ivan's dvor had burned up, Gavrilo's took fire : the wind arose, and carried the fire across the street. Half the" village was destroyed. From Ivan's house the old man was rescued with dif- ficulty, and his people rushed out with only the clothes they had on. Every thing else was burned, with the exception of the horses, that had gone to the night- pasture. All the cattle were destroyed. The poultry were burned on their roosts : the telyegas, the ploughs, the harrows, the women's boxes, the corn and wheat in the granary, every thing was destroyed. Gavrilo's cattle were rescued, and a few of his effects w'ere removed in safety. The fire lasted all night long. Ivdn stood by his dvor, and gazed, and kept repeating, " What does this mean? Heavens and earth ! All it needs, is to pull it down, and trample it out." But, when the ceiling of his izba fell in, he crept up close to the fire, caught hold of a burning beam, and tried to pull it out. The babas saw him, and began to call him back ; but he pulled the beam out, and went back after another, but staggered, and fell into the fire. Then his son dashed in after him, and pulled him out. Ivjin's beard and hair were burned off, liis clothes were scorched, his hands were ruined, and yet he did not notice it. " He has lost his wits from grief," said the crowd. TOU DON'T PUT IT OUT. 109 The fire began to die down ; and Ivdn still stood in the same place, and kept repeating, " Heavens and earth ! Only pull it down ! " In the morning the starosta sent his son after Ivdn. "• Uncle Ivan, your father is dying : he wants you to come and sa}' good-b}'." Ivan had forgotten all about his father, and did not comprehend what they said to him. '' What father? " says he : " wants whom? " '' He wants you to come and bid him go.od-by : he is dying in our izbd. Come, let us go, uncle Ivan," said the village elder's son, and took him by the hand. Ivdn followed the stdrosta's son. The old man, when he was rescued, was surrounded by burning straw, and was badly burned. He was taken to the starosta's, at the farther end of the village. That part of the village was not burned. When Ivdn came to his father, there was no one in the izbd except a little old woman, — the starosta's wife, — and some children on the oven. All the rest were at the fire. The old man was lying on the bench with a little candle in his hand, and was gazing at the door. When his son entered, he started. The old woman went to him, and told him that his son had come. He asked him to come nearer. Ivan approached, and the old man said, — ''Well, VAnyatka," he said, "I told you so. Who burned up the village? " " He, bdtiushka," said Ivdn. "I myself caught him at it. Right before my eyes he touched off the roof. All I needed to do, was to pull out the bunch of burn- ing straw, trample it down, and it would never have happened." 110 IF YOU NEGLECT THE FIRE, *'Ivan," said the old man, " m}^^ death has come : you, too, will have to die. Whose sin is it?" Iv^n looked at his father, and said nothing. He could not utter a word. ''Tell me in God's presence! Whose sin was it? What did I tell you?" Only at this moment Ivdn came to himself, and com- prehended all. He began to snuffle with his nose, and said, — " Mine, bdtiushka ! " and he fell on his knees before his father, .began to weep, and said, — " Forgive me, bdtiushka : I am guilty before you and before God.*' • The old man waved his hands, took the candle in his left, and pointed with his right to his forehead ; tried to cross himself, but failed to lift it high enough, and stopped short. " Praise the Lord, praise the Lord ! " he said, and then he looked sternly at his son. '^ButVanka, Vdnka ! " " What is it, batiushka? '* '' What ought you to do now? ** Ivdn kept on weeping. " I don't know, batiushka," he said. " How are we going to live now, bdtiushka? " The old man shut his eyes, moved his lips, as though trying to gather his strength ; and then he opened his eyes again, and said, " You will get along ! if you live with God — you will get along." The old man stopped speaking, and smiled, and said, '' Look, Vanya ! don't tell who set the fire. Hide your neighbor's sin, and God will forgive two sins.'* The old man took the candle in both his hands, held 70U DON'T PUT IT OUT. Ill them crossed on his breast, sighed, stretched himself, and died. Ivdn did not expose Gavrilo, and no one knew who set the fire. And Ivdn's heart grew soft toward Gavrilo, and Gavrilo was surprised because Ivdn did not tell any one about him. At first Gavrilo was afraid of him, but afterwards he got accustomed to it. The muzhiks ceased to quarrel, their families also. While they were rebuilding, both families lived in one dvor ; and when the village was restored, and the dvors were put at a greater distance apart, Ivdn and Gavrilo again became neighbors in one nest. And Ivan and Gavrilo lived in neighborly fashion, just as the old men used to live. And Ivdn Shcher- bakof remembers the old man's advice, and God's proof that a fire ought to be quenched at the begin- ning. And if any one does him harm, he does not try to retaliate, but he tries to arrange things ; and if any one calls him a bad name, he does not try to outdo him in his reply, but he tries to teach him not to say bad things ; and thus he teaches his babas and children ; and thus Ivan Shcherbakof reformed, and began to live better than before. WHERE LOVE IS, THERE GOD IS ALSO. 1885. In the city lived Martuin Avdy^itch, a shoemaker. He lived in a basement, in a little room with one win- dow. The window looked out on the street. Through the window he used to watch the people passuig by : although only their feet could be seen, yet by the boots Martuin Avdy^it^'h recognized their owners. Martuin Avdy^itch had lived long in one place, and had many acquaintances. Few pairs of boots in his district had not been in his hands once and again. Some he would half -sole, some he would patch, some he would stitch around, and occasionally he would also put on new uppers. And through the window he quite often recog- nized his work. Avdyeitch had plenty to do, because he was a faithful workman, used good material, did not make exorbitant charges, and kept his word. If he can finish an order by a certain time, he accepts it : if* not, he will not deceive you, — he tells you so before- hand. And all knew Avdjeitch, and he was never out of work. Avdyeitch had always been a good man ; but as he grew old, he began to think more about his soul, and get nearer to God. Martuin's wife had died when he was still living with his master. His wife left him a boy three years old. None of their other children had 112 WHERE LOVE IS, THERE GOD IS ALSO. 113 lived. All the eldest had died in childhood. Martuin at first intended to send his little son to his sister in the village, but afterwards he felt sorry for him : he thought to himself, " It will be hard for my Kapitoshka to live in a strange family. I shall keep him with me.'' And Avdyeitch left his master, and went into lodgings with his little son. But, through God's will, Avdyeitch had no luck with children. As Kapitoshka grew older, he began to help his father, and would have been a delight to him, but fell sick, went to bed, suffered a week, and died. Martuin buried his son, and fell into despair. So deep was this despair, that he began to complain of God. Martuin fell into such a melancholy state, that more than once he prayed to God for death, and reproached God because he did not take away him who was an old man, instead of his beloved only son. Avdyc^itch also ceased to go to church. And once a little old man, a fellow-countryman, came from Troi'tsa (Trinity) to see Avdyeitch : for seven years he had been absent. Avdyeitch talked with him, and began to complain about his sorrows. " I have no more desire to live," he said : " I only wish I was dead. That is all I pray God for. I 9,m a man without any thing to hope for now." And the little old man said to him, — " You don't talk right, Martuin : -we must not judge God's doings. The world moves, not by your skill, but by God's will. God decreed for your son to die, — for you — to live. Consequently, it is for the best. And you are in despair, because you wish to live for your own happiness." *' But what shall one live for? " asked Martuin. And the little old man said, *' We must live for God, Martuin. He gives you life, and for his sake you 114 WHERE LOVE IS, THERE GOD IS ALSO. must live. When j^ou begin to live for him, you will not grieve over any thing, and all will seem easy to you." Martuin kept silent for a moment, and then says, " But how can one live for the sake of God?" And the little old man said, *' Christ has taught us how to live for God. You know how to read ? Buy a Testament, and read it : there 3'ou will learn how to live for God. Every thing is explained there." And these words kindled a fire in Avdy^itch's heart. And he went that very same day, bought a New Tes- tament in large print, and began to read. At first Avdyditch intended to read only on holida3's ; but as he began to read, it so cheered his soul that he used to read every day. At times he would become so absorbed in reading, that all the kerosene in the lamp would burn out, and still he could not tear himself away. And so Avdy^itch used to read ever}' evening. And the more he read, the clearer he understood what God wanted of him, and how one should live for God ; and his heart constantly grew easier and easier. Formerly, when he lay down to sleep, he used to sigh and groan, and always think of his Kapitoshka ; and now he only ex- claimed, "Glory to thee! glory to thee. Lord! Thy will be done." And from that time Avdy^itch's whole life was changed. In other days he, too, used to drop into a saloon, as a holiday amusement, to drink a cup of tea ; and he was not averse to a little brandy either. He would take a drink with some acquaintance, and leave the saloon, not intoxicated exactly, yet in a happy frame of mind, and inclined to talk nonsense, and shout, and use abusive language at a person. Now he left off this sort of thing. His life became quiet WHERE LOVE IS, THERE GOD IS ALSO, 115 and joyful. In the morning he sits down to work, finishes his allotted task, then takes the little lamp from the hook, puts it on the table, gets his book from the shelf, opens it, and sits down to read. And the more he reads, the more he understands, and the brighter and happier it is in his heart. Once it happened that Martuin read till late into the night. He was reading the Gospel of Luke. He was reading over the sixth chapter ; and he was reading the verses, ''And unto him that smite th thee on the one cheek ofifer also the other ; and him that taketh away thy cloak forbid not to take thy coat also. Give to every man that asketh of thee ; and of him that taketh away thy goods ask them not again. And as ye would that men should do to you, do ye also to them like- wise.*' He read further also those verses, where God speaks : '' And why call ye me. Lord, Lord, and do not the things which I saj'? Whosoever cometh to me, and heareth my sayings, and doeth them, I will shew 3'ou to whom he is like : he is like a man which built an house, and digged deep, and laid the foundation on a rock : and when the flood arose, the stream beat veliemently 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." Avdyeitch read these words, and joy filled his soul. He took off his spectacles, put them down on the book, leaned his elbows upon the table, and became lost in thought. And he began to measure his life by these words. And he thought to himself, — *' Is my house built upon the rock, or upon the sand? 116 WHERE LOVE IS, THERE GOD IS ALSO. *Tis well if on the rock. It is so eas}' when you are alone b}' yourself ; it seems as if you had done every thing as God commands : but when you forget your- self, you sin again. Yet I shall still struggle on. It is very good. Help me, Lord ! " Thus ran his thoughts : he wanted to go to bed, but he felt loath to tear himself away from the book. And he began to read further in the seventh chapter. He read about the centurion, he read about the widow's son, he read about the answer given to John's disciples, and finally he came to that place where the rich Phari- see desired the Lord to sit at meat with him ; and he read how the woman that was a sinner anointed his feet, and washed them with her tears, and how he for- gave her. He reached the forty-fourth verse, and be- gan to read, — "And he turned to the woman, and said unto Simon, Seest thou this woman? I entered into thine house, thou gavest me no water for my feet : but she hath 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. Mj' head with oil thou didst not anoint : but this woman hath anointed my feet with ointment." He finished reading these verses, and thought to him- self, " Thou gavest me no water for my feet, thou gavest me no kiss. My head with oil thou didst not anoint.^* And again Avdy^itch took off his spectacles, put them down upon the book, and again he became lost in thought. " It seems that Pharisee must have been such a man as I am. I, too, apparently have thought only of myself, — how I might have my tea, be warm and WHERE LOVE IS, THERE GOD IS ALSO. 117 comfortable, but never to think about my guest. He thought about himself, but there was not the least care taken of the guest. And who was his guest? The Lord himself. If he had come to me, should I have done the same way? " Avdy^itch rested his head upon both his arms, and did not notice how he fell asleep. " Martuin ! " suddenly seemed to sound in his ears. Martuin started from his sleep : " Who is here? " He turned around, glanced toward the door — no one. Again he fell into a doze. Suddenly he plainly hears, — " Martuin! Ah, Martuin! look to-morrow on the street. I am coming." Martuin awoke, rose from the chair, began to rub his eyes. He himself does not know whether he heard those words in his dream, or in reality. He turned down his lamp, and went to bed. At daybreak next morning, Avd^'c^itch rose, made his prayer to God, lighted the stove, put on the shchi^ and the kasha, ^ put the water in the samovar, put on his apron, and sat down by the window to work. Avdyeitch is working, and at the same time thinking about all that had happened yesterday. He thinks both ways ; now he thinks it was a dream, and now he thinks he i^oally heard a voice. " Well," he thinks, " such things have been." , Martuin is sitting by the window, and does not work as much as he looks through the window : when any one passes by in boots that he does not know, he bends down, looks out of the window, in order to see, not only the feet, but also the face. The dvornik ^ passed by in 1 Cabbage-Boup. 2 Qruel. ^ House-porter. 118 WHERE LOVE IS, THERE GOD IS ALSO. new valenM; ^ the water-carrier passed by ; then came alongside of the window an old soldier of Nicholas's time, in an old pair of laced felt boots, with a shovel in his hands. Avdy^itch recognized him by his felt boots. The old man's name was Stepdnuitch ; and a neigh- boring merchant, out of charity, gave him a home with him. He was required to assist the dvornik. Stepdn- uitch began to shovel away the snow from in front of Avdy^itch*s window. Avdyeitch glanced at him, and took up his work again. "Psha\^! I must be getting crazy in my old age,'* said Avdyeitch, and laughed at himself. '^ Stepdn- uitch is clearing away the snow, and I imagine that Christ is coming to see me. I was entirely out of my mind, old dotard that I am ! " Avdy6itch sewed about a dozen stitches, and then felt impelled to look through the window again. He looked out again through the window, and sees Stepdnuitch has leaned his shovel against the wall, and is either warming himself, or rest- ing. He is an old, broken-down man : evidently he has not strength enough, even to shovel the snow. Avd^'^itch said to himself, " I will give him some tea : by the way, the samovar must be boiling by this time." Avdyeitch laid down his awl, rose from his seat, put the samovar on the table, made the tea, and tapped with his finger at the glass. Stepanuitch turned around*, and came to the window. Avdyeitch beckoned to him, and went to open the door. "Come in, warm yourself a little," he said. " You must be cold." " May Christ reward you for this ! my bones ache," said Stepdnuitch. Stepdnuitch came in, and shook off the snow, tiied 1 Felt boots. WHERE LOVE JS, THERE GOD JS ALSO. 119 to wipe his feet, so as not to soil the floor, but stag- gered. '' Don't trouble to wipe your feet. I will clean it up myself : we are used to such things. Come in and sit down," said Avdyeitch. '' Drink a cup of tea.'* And Avd3'^itch filled two glasses, and handed one to his guest ; while he himself poured his tea into a saucer, and began to blow it. Stepanuitch finished drinking his glass of tea, turned the glass upside down,^ put upon it the half-eaten lump of sugar, and began to express his thanks. But it was evident he wanted some more. " Have some more," said Avdj^^itch, filling both his own glass and his guest's. Avd^^eitch drinks his tea, but from time to time keeps glancing out into the street. *' Are you expecting any one? " asked his guest. ''Am I expecting any one? I am ashamed even to tell whom I expect. I am, and I am not, expecting some one ; but one word has impressed itself upon my heart. Whether it is a dream, or something else, I do not know. Don't you see, brother, I was reading yesterday the gospel about Chiist, the Bdtiushka;^ how he suffered, how he walked on the earth. 1 suppose you have heard about it?" "Indeed I have," replied Stepdnuitch : " but we are people in darkness ; we can't read." " Well, now, I was reading about that very thing, — how he walked upon the earth : I read, you know, how he comes to the Pharisee, and the Pharisee did not treat him hospitably. Well, and so, my brother, I was reading, yesterday, about this very thing, and was thinking to myself how he did not receive Christ, the 1 A custom among the llusisians. 2 Little father. 120 WHERE LOVE IS, THERE GOD JS ALSO. Batiushka, with honor. If, for example, he should come to me, or any one else, I think to myself, I should not even know how to receive him. And he gave him no reception at all. Well ! while I was thus thinking, I fell asleep, brother, and I hear some one call me by name. I got up : the voice, just as though some one whispered, says, ' Be on the watch : I shall come to- morrow.' And this happened twice. Well! would you believe it, it got into my head ? I scold myself — and yet I am expecting him, the Batiushka." Stepdnuitch shook his head, and said nothing : he finished drinking his glass of tea, and put it on the side ; but Avdyeitch picked up the glass again, and filled it once more. " Drink some more for your good health. You see, I have an idea, that, when the Bdtiushka went about on this earth, he disdained no one, and had more to do with the simple people. He always went to see the simple people. He picked out his disciples more from among our brethren, sinners like ourselves from the working-class. He, says he, who exalts him- self, shall be humbled, and he who is humbled shall become exalted. You, says he, call me Lord, and I, says he, wash your feet. Whoever wishes, says he, to be the first, the same shall be a servant to all. Because, says he, blessed are the poor, the humble, the kind*, the generous." And Stepanuitch forgot about his tea : he was an old man, and easily moved to tears. He is sitting listening, and the tears are rolling down his face. " Come, now, have some more tea," said Avdyeitch ; but Stepanuitch made the sign of the cross, thanked him, turned up his glass, and arose. '' Thanks to you," he says, '^ Martuin Avdyeitch, WHERE LOVE IS, THERE GOD IS ALSO. 121 for treating me kindly, and satisfying me, soul and body." " You are welcome ; come in again ; always glad to see a friend," said Avdy^itch. Stepdnuitch departed ; and Martuin poured out the rest of the tea, drank it up, put away the dishes, and sat down again by the window to work, to stitch on a patch. He is stitching, and at the same time look- ing through the window. He is expecting Christ, and is all the while thinking of him and his deeds, and his head is filled with the different speeches of Christ. Two soldiers passed by : one wore boots furnished by the Crown, and the other one, boots that he had made ; then the master ^ of the next house, passed by in shining galoshes ; then a baker with a basket passed by. All passed by ; and now there came also by the window a woman in woollen stockings and wooden shoes. She passed by the window, and stood still near the window-case. Avdy^itch looked up at her from the window, sees it is a strange woman poorly clad, and with a child : she was standing by the wall with her back to the wind, trying to wrap up the child, and she has nothing to wrap it up in. The woman was dressed in shabby summer clothes : and from behind the frame, Avdy^itch hears the child crying, and the woman trying to pacify it ; but she is not able to pacify it. Avdy^itch got up, went to the door, ascended the steps, and cried, "Hey! my good woman !" ^ The woman heard him and turned around. <'<' Why are you standing in the cold with the child? Come into my room, where it is warm : you can man- age it better. Right, in this way ! " '^ Khozyciin, 'Umultsaahl 122 WHERE LOVE IS, THERE GOD IS ALSO. The woman was astonished. She sees an old, old man in an apron, with spectacles on his nose, calling her to him. She followed him. They descended the steps, entered the room : the old man led the woman to his bed. ** There," says he, " sit down, my good woman, nearer to the stove : you can get warm, and nurse the child." " I have no milk for him. I myself have not eaten anything since morning," said the woman ; but, never- theless, she took the child to her breast. Avdy^itch shook his head, went to the table, brought out the bread and a dish, opened the oven-door, poured into the dish some cabbage-soup, took out the pot with the gruel, but it was not done yet ; so he filled the dish with shchl only, and put it on the table. He got the bread, took the towel down from the hook, and put it upon the table. '' Sit down," he says, " and eat, my good woman ; and I will mind the little one. You see, I once had children of my own : I know how to handle them." The woman crossed herself, sat down at tht, table, and began to eat ; while Avdy^itch took a seat on the bed near the infant. Avdy^itch kept smacking and smack- ing to it with his lips ; but it was a poor kind of smack; ing, for he had no teeth. The little one still cries. And it occurred to Avdy^itch to tlireaten the little one with his finger : he waves, waves his finger rigjit before the child's mouth, and hastily withdraws it. He does not put it to its mouth, because his finger is black, and soiled with wax. And the little one looked at his finger, and became quiet : then it began to smile, and Avdy^itch also was glad. While the woman is eating, she tells who she is, and whither she was going. WHERE LOVE IS, THERE GOD IS ALSO. 123 "I," says she, "am a soldier's wife. It is now seven -months since they sent m}- husband away off, and no tidings. I lived out as cook ; the baby was born ; no one cared to keep me with a child. This is the third month that I have been struggling along with- out a place. I ate up all I had. I wanted to engage as a wet-nurse — no one would take me — I am too thin, they say. I have just been to the merchant's wife, where lives our bdbotchka^^ and so they promised to take us in. I thought this was tlie end of it. But she told me to come next week. And she lives a long way off. I got tired out ; and it tired him, too, my heart's darling. Fortunately, our landlad}^ takes pity on us for the sake of Christ, and gives us a room, else 1 don't know how I should manage to get along." Avdy<5itch sighed, and said, " Haven't you any warm clothes ? * * " Now is the time, friend, to wear warm clothes ; but yesterday I pawned my last shawl for a twenty-kopek piece." ^ The woman came to the bed, and took the child ; and Avdy^itch rose, went to the little wall, and succeeded in finding an old coat. " Na ! " says he : *' it is a poor thing, yet you may turn it to some use.'* The woman looked at the coat, looked at the old man ; she took the coat, and burst into tears : and Avd- y^itch turned away his head ; crawling under the bed, he pushed out a little trunk, rummaged in it, and sat down again opposite the woman. And the woman said, "May Christ bless you, di4- duslika!^ He must have sent me himself to your » Little grandmother. * Dvagriveunui, silver, worth sixteen cents. s Little gmndfather. 124 WHERE LOVE IS, THERE GOD IS ALSO. window. My little child would have frozen to death. When I started out, it was warm, but now it is terribly' cold. And he. B^tiushka, led 3'ou to look through the window, and take pity on me, an unfortunate." Avdy^itch smiled, and said, "Indeed, he did that! I have been looking through the window, my good woman, not without cause." And Martuin told the soldier's wife his dream, and how he heard the voice, — how the Lord promised to come and see him that day. "All things are possible," said the woman. Slie rose, put on the coat, wrapped up her little child in it ; and, as she started to take leave, she thanked Avd- y^itch again. " Take this, for Christ's sake," said Avdyeitch, giv- ing her a twenty-kopek piece : " redeem your shawl." She made the sign of the cross. Avdyeitch made the sign of the cross, and went with her to the door. The woman left. Avdyeitch ate some shchi, washed some dishes, and sat down again to work. While he works he still remembers the window : when the window grew darker, he immediately looked out to see who was passing by. Both acquaintances and strangers passed by, and there was nothing out of the ordinary. But here Avdyeitch sees that an old apple- woman has stopped right in front of his window. She carries a basket with apples. Only a few were left, as she had nearly sold them all out ; and over her shoulder she had a bag full of chips. She must have gathered them up in some new building, and was on her way home. One could see that the bag was heavy on her shoulder : she wanted to shift it to ttie other shoulder. So she low- ered the bag upon the sidewalk, stood the basket with the apples on a little post, and began to shake down the splinters in the bag. And while she was shaking WHERE LOVE IS, THERE GOD IS ALSO. 125 her bag, a little boy in a torn cap came along, picked up an apple from the basket, and was about to make his escape ; but the old woman noticed it, turned around, and caught the youngster by his sleeve. The little boy began to struggle, tried to tear himself away ; but the old woman grasped him with both hands, knocked off his cap, and caught him by the hair. The little boy is screaming, the old woman is scold- ing. Avdyeitch lost no time in putting away his awl ; he threw it upon the floor, sprang to the door, — he even stumbled on the stairs, and dropped his eye- glasses, — and rushed out into the street. The old woman is pulling the youngster by his hair, and is scolding, and threatening to take him to the policeman : the youngster defends himself, and denies the charge. " I did not take it," he saj's : " what are you licking me for? let me go ! " Avdyeitch tried to separate them. He took the boy by his arm, and says, — "Let him go, bdbushka; forgive him, for Christ*s sake.'* *' I will forgive him so that he won't forget till the new broom grows. I am going to take the little villain to the police." Avdyeitch began to entreat the old woman : — **Let him go, bdbushka," he said: "he will never do it again. Let him go, for Christ's sake." The old woman let him loose : the boy tried to run, but Avdyeitch kept him back. "Ask the bdbushka's forgiveness," he said, "and don't you ever do it again : I saw you taking the apple." With tears in his eyes, the boy began to ask for- giveness. "Nu! that's right; and now, here's an apple for 126 WHERE LOVE IS, THERE GOB IS ALSO. you." Avdy^itch got an apple from the basket, and gave it to the boy. " I will pay you for it, babushka," he said to the old woman. "You ruin them that wa}', the good-for-nothings," said the old woman. " He ought to be treated so that he would remember it for a whole week." "Eh, bdbushka, babushka," said Ardy^itch, "that is right according to our judgment, but not according to God's. If he is to be whipped for an apple, then what do we deserve for our sins? " The old woman was silent. Avdyeitch told her the parable of the khozy4fn who forgave a debtor all that he owed him, and how the debtor went and began to choke one who owed him. The old woman listened, and the boy stood listening. "God has commanded us to forgive," said Avd- yeitch, " else we, too, may not be forgiven. All should be forgiven, and the thoughtless especially." The old woman shook her head, and sighed. " That's so," said she ; " but the trouble is, that they are very much spoiled." "Then, we, who are older, must teach them," said Avdyeitch. " That's just what I say," remarked the old woman. " I myself had seven of them, — only one daughter is left." And the old woman began to relate where and how she lived with her daughter, and how many grand- children she had. "Here," she says, "my strength is onl}' so-so, and yet I have to work. I pity the youngsters — my grandchildren — how nice they are ! No one gives me such a welcome as they do. Aksintka won't go to any one but me. (Bdbushka, dear bd- bushka, loveliest ") — and the old woman grew quite sentimental. WHERE LOVE IS, THERE GOD fS ALSO. 127 '' Of course, it is a childish trick. God be with him," said she, pointing to the boy. The woman was just about to lift the bag upon her shoulder, when the boy ran up, and says, " Let me carry it, bAbushka : it is on my way." The old woman nodded her head, and put the bag on the boy's back. Side by side they both passed along the street. And the old woman even forgot to ask Avdj'^itch to pay for the apple. Avdy^itch stood motionless, and kept gazing after them ; and he heard them talking all the time as they walked away. After Avdyc^itch saw them disappear, he returned to his room ; he found his eye-glasses on the stairs, — they were not broken ; he picked up his awl, and sat down to work again. After working a little while, it grew darker, so that he could not see to sew : he saw the lamplighter pass- ing by to light the street-lamps. " It must be time to make, a light," he thought to himself ; so he fixed his little lamp, hung it up, and betook himself again to work. He had one boot already finished ; he turned it around, looked at it : " Well done." He put away his tools, swept off the cuttings, cleared off the bristles and ends, took the lamp, put it on the table, and took down the Gospels from the shelf. He intended to open the book at the very place where he had yesterday put a piece of leather as a mark, but it happened to open at another place ; and the moment Avdy^itch opened the Testament, he recollected his last night's dream. And as soon as he remembered it, it seemed as though he heard some one stepping about behind him. Avdy^itch looked around, and sees — there, in the dark corner, it seemed as though 128 WHERE LOVE IS, THERE GOD IS ALSO. people were standing : he was at a loss to know who they were. And a voice whispered in his ear, — " Martuin — ah, Martuin ! did you not recognize me?'* ^'Who?'' uttered Ardy^itch. '' Me," repeated the voice. " It's I ; '* and Stepdn- uitch stepped forth from the dark corner ; he smiled, and like a little cloud faded away, and soon vanished. "And this is I," said the voice. From the dark corner stepped forth the woman with her child : the woman smiled, the child laughed, and they also van- ished. " And this is I," continued the voice ; both the old woman and the boy with the apple stepped forward ; both smiled and vanished. Avdy^itch's soul rejoiced : he crossed himself, put on his eye-glasses, and began to read the Evangelists where it happened to open. On the upper part of the page he read, — "For I was an hungred, and ye gave me meat: I was thirsty, and ye gave me drink : 1 was a stranger, and 3'e took me in." . . . And on the lower part of the page he read this : — "Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto me " (St. Matthew, chap. xxv.). And Avdy^itch understood that his dream did not deceive him ; that the Saviour really called upon him that day, and that he really received him. A CANDLE. " 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 : but whosoever shall smite thee on thy right cheek, turn to him the other also." — Matt. v. 38, 39. This affair took place in the da3^s when there weie masters. There used to be all kinds of masters. There were those who remembered God, and that they must die, and took pity on people ; and there were dogs, — excuse the use of the term. But there was nothing worse than the overseers,* who had risen from serfdom. As it were, out of the mud, they became princes ! And they made life worse than any thing else. There happened to be such a prikdshchik on a pro- prietor's estate. The peasants worked their share for the estate. There was plenty of land, and the land was good — there was water, and meadows, and wood- land. There was enough, and to spare, for barin and muzhiks ; but the barin made one of his house-serfs from another estate the prikdshchik. The prikdshchik took the power on his hands, and sat upon the necks of the muzhiks. He himself had a family, — a wife, and two married daughters, — and he had made money. He might easily have lived with- out sin ; but he was a covetous man, and fell into sin. * Nachalniks. 129 130 A CANDLE. He began to compel the muzhiks to work on thebarin's estate more than their regular day's work. He started a brick-3^ard : he wore out all the peasants, both babas and muzhiks, and sold the bricks. The muzhiks went to complain to the proprietor at Moscow, but they had no success. He dismissed the muzhiks without any thing, and did not curb the pri- kashchik's power. The prikashchik learned that the muzhiks had been to complain of him, and he began to vent his spite. The muzhiks were worse ofif than be- fore. There happened to be false men among the muz- hiks, who used to carry stories about each other. And all the people were in a ferment, and the prikash- chik kept growing worse and worse. As time went on, the prikashchik became so bad that the people came to fear him worse than a terrible wild beast. When he passed through the village, all would keep out of his way as from a wolf, hiding wherever they could, so as to keep away from his eyes. The prikashchik saw it ; and the fact that they were afraid of him, made him still more angry. He persecuted the people, both by blows and hard work ; and the muzhiks suffered terribly at his hands. There were times when such evil-doers were put out of the way, and the muzhiks began to plan some such way of escape. They would meet in some retired spot, and the boldest among them would say, — " Must we go on suffering forever from our persecu- tor? — We are lost anyhow — to kill such a man is no sin." The muzhiks were one time gathered in the forest : it was before Holy Week. The prikashchik had sent them out to clear up the proprietor's forest. They gathered at dinner, and began to talk. A CANDLE. 131 *' How can we live now?*' they said. ''He will destroy us root and branch. He tortures us with work : neither we nor the babas have any rest day or night any more. The least thing not to his mind, and he finds fault, he lashes us. Semyon died under his whip, Anisim was tortured in the stocks. What else can we expect? He will come here this evening; he will be making trouble again ; let's just pull him off from his horse, give him a blow with ihe axe, and that'll be the end of it. We'll bury him somewhere like a dog, and there'll be no clew. Onl}' one condition : we must all stand together — not peach." Thus spoke Vasili Minaef. He was more than all the rest incensed against the prikashchik, who had whipped him every week, robbed him of his wife, tak- ing her as his cook. Thus talked the muzhiks : in the evening the pri- kdshchik came ; he was on horseback : as soon as he came, he began to find fault with their work. He dis- covered a little linden in the pile. " I," says he, " did not tell you to cut the lindens. Who cut it down? Confess, or I'll lash you all ! " He began to inquire in whose pile the linden was. They told him it was Sidor's. The prikdshchik beat Sidor's face till it bled. Then he lashed Vasili Tatar fashion because his pile was small : then he started home. In the evening the muzhiks met again, and Vasili was the spokesman. " Ekh ! What people you are ! Not men, but spar- rows ! 'We'll stand together, we'll stand together! ' but when it comes to the point, all rush under the pent- roof. Thus spaiTows try to fight a hawk : ' Don't peach, don't peach, we'll stand together! ' But when 132 A CANDLE. he swooped down on us, all scattered in the grass ! And so the hawk caught the one he wanted, carried it off. The sparrows hopped out : ' Cheeveek ! cheeveek ! ' There is one missing! 'Who is gone?' Vdnka, eh! That's his road, let him go ! He deserves it. The same way witli you. If you ain't going to peach, then don't peach. When he seized Sidor, you should have clubbed together, and put an end to him. But still it is, ' Don't peach, don't peacli ! we'll stand together! ' But when he swooped down, all flew into the bushes ! " Thus they spoke more and more often, and at last the muzhiks determined to do away with the prikash- chik. On Good Friday the prikilshchik announced to the muzhiks that they must be ready to plough for the barin at Easter, so as to sow the oats. This seemed to the muzhiks an insult ; and on Good F'rida}' they gath- ered at Vasili's, in the back-yard, and began to talk again. "Since he has forgotten God," say they, "and wants to do such things, we must really kill him. We are ruined anyway." Piotr Mikh^'eef also came with them. Piotr Mi- khy^ef was a peace-loving muzhik, and did not agree with the muzhiks. Mikhyeef came, heard their talk, and says, — "You are meditating a great sin, brethren. To destroy a soul is a great crime. To destroy another man's soul is easy, but how about your own? He does wrong : it is bad for him. Brethren, we must bear it." Vasili was angry at these words. " He keeps repeat- ing the same thing over and over," says he: "'It's a sin to kill a man ! You know it is a sin to kill such a man,' sa3^s he. It is a sin to kill a good man, but even God has commanded to kill such a dog. You must A CANDLE. 133 kill a mad dog, out of pity for men ; and not to kill him, would be a greater sin. Why does he ruin peo- ple ? But though we should suffer for it, we ought to do it for others o People will thank us. And to get rid of such spittle ! He is ruining everybody. You talk non- sense, Mikhy^itch, Why, it would be less of a sin than for all to go to work on Easter Sunday. You yourself would not go." And Mikhy^itch replied, — "Why not go?" he asked. "They will send us, and I am going to plough. Not for myself. But God knows whose sin it is, only we should not forget him. I, brethren," says he, "don't speak my own thoughts. If we had been commanded to do evil for evil, there would have been a law from God to that effect ; but just the opposite is commanded us. You will do evil, but it will come back upon you. It is wicked to kill a man. His blood will stick in your soul. Kill a man — you stain your own soul with blood. You think, 'I have killed a bad man.* You think, 'I have destroyed a pest.' On the contrary, look, you have been led into doing a much worse sin to yourself. Yield to fate, and fate will 3 ield to you." And so the muzhiks did not agree : they were divided by their thoughts. Some have the same opinion as Vasilyef : others coincide with the views of Piotr, that they should not attempt the sin, but bear it. The muzhiks were celebrating the firet of the holi- days, Sunday. At evening comes the village elder,^ with police from the master's country-seat, and they say, — ** Mikhail Semjonovitch, the overseer,^ has given » Stdroita. * Frikdehchik, 134 A CANDLE. orders that all the mnzhiks prepare on the morrow to plough in the oat- field. The village elder went round with the police through the village, gave the orders for all to go out and plough the next day, calling to this one on the river, this one from the high-road. The muzhiks wept, but dared not disobey. In the morning they came with their ploughs,^ began to plough. At church the early morning-mass is going on, the people eveiywhere are celebrating the festival : our muzhiks are ploughing ! Mikhail Semyonovitch, the overseer, woke up not very early, and rode over to the f arm : his people were dressed, and had on their finery — his wife, his widowed daughter (she had come for the festival) ; a workman harnessed for them the little tely^ga ; they went off to mass ; they returned ; the serving-woman put on the samovar ; Mikhail Semyonovitch came in ; they began their tea-drinking. After Mikhail Semyonovitch had drunk enough tea, he lighted his pipe, called the village elder. *' Well, then,^ did you set the muzhiks to plough- ing?- " I did, Mikhail Semyonovitch.** ''What! did all go?** *' All went : I myself set them at it.** '' Setting them at work is all ver}' well, but are they ploughing? Go out and look, and tell them that I am coming after dinner to see if they have been ploughing a des3'atin to every two ploughs, and ploughing it well, besides. If I find any mistake, 1 sha'n*t hear to any festival.** " All right.*' SokhL s Nu tchto moL A CANDLE. 135 And the village elder had started, but Mikhail Semyonovitch called him back : he hesitates, wants to say something, but knows not how. He hesitated and hesitated, and now he says, — '' Now, here, I want you to listen to what those vil- lains are saying about me. Who is grumbling, and what he says, — tell me all about it. I know those villains ; they don't like to work ; unless I punch 'em in the side, they would be wandering about. They like to gormandize and have holidays, but they don't think that you'll put off the ploughing. Now, then, you just listen to their talk, what any one says, and just report it to me. I must know about it. Go along and notice, and tell me all, and don't hide anything." The village elder turned round, went off, mounted his horse, and rode off to the muzhiks in the field. The overseer's wife had heard her husband's talk with fhe village elder, and came to her husband, and began to question him. The prikdshchitsa was a peace- loving woman, and her heart was tender. Where it was possible, she restrained her husband, and stood up for the muzhiks. She came to her husband, and began to question him : — " My dear Mishenka," ^ says she, " on the great day, the festival of the Lord, don't commit a sin ; for Christ's sake, let the muzhiks off ! '' Mikhail Semyonovitch did not take his wife's words : he only began to laugh at her. *' It's a long time, isn't it," says he, " since you had a little taste of the whip, that you dare mix yourself up with other people's affairs? " *■ Diminutive of Mikhail. 136 A CANDLE. '' Mishenka, my love, I had a bad dream about you : heed me ; let the muzhiks off ! " '' And I, too, have something to say," says he : "if you give me much of your sauce, the whip will bring you to reason. Look out ! " Semyonovitch got angry, thrust his lighted pipe into his wife's teeth, pushed her away, ordered dinner brought him. Mikhai'l Semyonovitch ate some cold meat, a pirog, cabbage-soup with pork, roast slioat, vermicelli cooked in milk ; he drank some cherry-wine, tasted a sweet pie, called up the cook, set her to performing some songs ; and he himself took his guitar, and began to play the accompaniments. Mikhail Semyonovitch is sitting in a gay frame of mind, belches, thrums on the strings, and jests with the cook. The village elder came in, bowed low, and began to report what he had seen in the field. *' Well, then,^ are they ploughing? Are they "finish- ing their stint?'* "They have already done more than half of the ploughing." " None left undone? " " I did not see any ; they plough very well ; they are afraid." " Well, does the ground turn up well? " " The ground turns up easily, as the poppy has been scattered." The overseer was silent. "Well, and what do they say about me? do they revile me?" The stdrosta began to stammer, but Mikhail Sem- yonovitch bade him tell the whole truth. " Tell me all : » 2{u tcMo, A CANDLE. 137 you won't be speaking your own words, but somebody else's. If you tell the truth, I will reward you ; but if you deceive me, look out ! I will pickle you ! Yay, Kdtrusha, give him a glass of vodka to keep his courage up." The cook came, offered him the brandy. The vil- lage elder thanked her, drank it up, wiped his lips, and began to speak : — '* All the same," thinks he, '^ 'tisn't my fault that they don't praise him. I will tell the truth, since he tells me to." And the stdrosta plucks up courage, and begins to speak : — " They grumble, Mikhail Semyonovitch, they grum- ble." *' Yes ; but what do they say? Tell me." *' They say just one thing : ' He does not believe in God.' " The prikdshchik sneered. "Who says that?" ''They all say it. They say, ' He has sold himself to the Devil.' " The prikdshchik laughs. "That," says he, "is excellent: now tell me indi- vidually who says that. Does Vdska say so? " The stdrosta did not want to tell on his own people, but there had been a quarrel between Vasili and the stdrosta for a long time. "Vasili," says he, "scolds worse than any one else." " Yes : what does he say? Speak it out." " But it is terrible to tell — even to tell it. He says, * You won't escape a violent death.' " "Ay! the brave fellow ! I suppose he's dawdling round! He won't kill me — his hands won't reach 138 A CANDLE. me! Just wait!" says he, ''V^ska! we'll be quits with you ! Now, how about Tishka? That dog also, I suppose ? ' ' *' Yes : they all speak bad." " Yes ; but what do they say? " *' Well, they say something abominable." '' What was abominable? Don't be afraid to tell." " Well,^ they say that your belly will break open, and 3'our bowels gush out." Mikhail Semyouovitch was delighted : he burst into a horse-laugh. ''We will see whose does first! Who says that? Tishka?" " No one said any thing good : all growl, all are full of threats." " Well,2 but how about P^trushka Mikhy^ef ? What does he say? The gobbler! he growls also, I sup- pose?" " No, Mikhailo Sem3'6novitch. Pyotra does not com- plain." "What does he?'* " He is the only one of all the muzhiks that saj's nothing. He is a clever muzhik. I wondered at him, Mikhail Semyouovitch." "But why?" " At what he did ; and all the muzhiks wondered at him." "But what did he do?" "Yes, it was very queer. I tried to get near him. He is ploughing on the desydtin on Turkin height. I tried to get near him. I hear him singing something : he is carrying something gingerly, carefully ; and on his plough, between the handles, something is shining." A CANDLE. 139 "Well?'' "It is exactly like a little fire, shining. I come nearer ; I look ; a little wax candle — cost five kopeks — is stuck on to the cross-bar, and is burning ; and the wind doesn't blow it out. And he, in his clean shirt, goes up and down, ploughing, and singing Sunday songs. And his cuffs are turned up, and he shakes, and the candle doesn't go out. He shook before me, turned the club, lifted the plough, and all the time the candle burns, and doesn't go out." " And what did he say ? " " Well,^ he didn't say an}- thing, only looked at me, crossed himself, and began to sing again." " But what did you say to him? " " I did not speak : but the muzhiks came up, and they began to make sport of him ; here they saj', ' Mikhyeitch, in an age of sin, you won't get off by praying because you ploughed on Sunday.' " "What did he say?" " He only said, ' On earth, peace, good will to men.' Again he took hold of the plough, started up the horse, and sang in a low voice ; but the candle burns, and doesn't go out." The overseer ceased to make ridicule, laid down the guitar, hung his head, and fell into thought. He kept sitting there, and sitting there ; then he sent out the cook and the stdrosta, and went to the curtain ; lay down on the bed, and began to sigh, began to groan, as though a cart-load of sheaves lay on him. His wife came to him, began to talk with him : he did not reply to her. Only he said, — " He has conquered me. Now it's my turn." His wife began to say to him, " Yes, go and let * 2?a. 140 A CANDLE. them off. Perhaps there's no harm. No matter what you have done, don't be afraid ; for what is there to be afraid of now? " *'I am lost," he said: "he has conquered me;" and he kept repeating, " He has conquered, con- quered ! " His wife shouted to him, — " Go ahead ! let the muzhiks go, then it will be all right. Go ahead, I will saddle the horse." She got out the horse ; and the prikdshchitsa urged her husband to go out to the field, and let the muzhiks go- Mikhail Semyonovitch mounted his horse, and rode out to the field. He came to the neighborhood ; a baba opened the gate for him ; he rode into the village." As soon as the people saw the prikashchik, all the people hid themselves from him, one in a door, another in a corner, another in a garden. The prikashchik rode through the whole village : he came to other horse-gates. The gates were shut, and he could not open them on horse-back. He shouted, the prikdshchik shouted for some one to open for him, but no one came. Getting down from his horse, he opened the gate himself, and tried to mount again. He lifted his foot to the stirrup, tried to swing himself into the saddle ; but the horse took fright at a pig, sprang against the paling : and the man was heavy ; he could not spring into the saddle, and was thrown on his belly against the paling. There was only one sharp pole that stood out above the fence, and this was higher than the others. And he fell on his belly straight on this pole. And it ripped open his belly, and he fell on the ground. The muzhiks came hurrying from the ploughing ; they A CANDLE. 141 were saying sharp things : as their horses turn into the gate, the niiizhiks see that Mikhail Sem3'6novitch is lying on his back, his arms stretched out, and his eyes fixed, and his insides gushed out over the ground, and his blood making a pool — the earth would not drink it. The muzhiks were frightened ; they drive the horses : only Piotr Mikhy^itch dismounts, goes to the overseer, sees that he is dead, closes his eyes, harnesses the tely^ga, helps the dead man's son to put him in a box, and carries him to the manor-hojuse. The barin learned about all these things, and forgave the muzhiks their tax. And the muzhiks learned that God's power works not by sin, but by goodness. TWO OLD MEN. ** The woman saith unto him, Sir, T perceive that thou art a prophet. Our fathers worshipped in this mountain; and ye say, that in Jerusalem is the place where men ought to worship. Jesus saith unto her, Woman, believe me, the hour cometh, when ye shall neither in this mountain, nor yet at Jerusalem, worship the Father. Ye worship ye know not what : we know what we worship : for salvation is of the Jews. But the hour cometh, and now is, when the true worshippers shall worship the Father in spirit and in truth: for the Father secketh such to worship him." — John iv. 19-23. Two old men resolved to worship God in ancient Jerusalem. One was a rich muzhik ; his name was Yeflm Tardsuitch Shevolef : the other was not a rich man/ — Yelisei Bodrof. Yefim was a sedate muzhik ; did not drink vodka, nor smoke tobacco, nor take snuff. All his life long he had never used a bad word, and he was a strict and upright man. Two terms Yefim had served as stdr- osta, and had come out without a deficit.^ His family was large, — two sons and a married grand- son, — and all lived together. As for himself, he was hale, long-bearded, erect, and, though he was in his seventh decade, his beard was only beginning to grow gi*ay. 1 The stdrosta, or starshina, is president of the village council, and held •ccountable for the taxes levied on thernir, or commune. 142 TWO OLD MEN. 143 Yelis^i was a little old man, neither rich nor poor : in former times he had gone about doing jobs in car- pentry ; but now, as he grew old, he began to stay at home, and took to raising bees. One of his sons had gone away to work, the other was at home. Yelisei was a good-natured and jolly man. He used to drink vodka, and take snuff, and he liked to sing songs ; but he was a peaceable man, and lived amicably with his family and his neighbors. As to his person, Yelisei was a short, darkish little muzhik, with a curly beard ; and like his name-saint, Elisha the prophet, he was entirely bald. The old men had long ago promised and agreed to go together, but Tardsuitch had never found the lei- sure : his engagements had never come to an end. As soon as one was through with, another began : first the grandson got married ; then they expected the younger son from the army ; and then, again, he planned to build a new izbd. One festival day the old men met, and were sitting in the sun. " Well,'* says Yelisei, " when shall we set out, and fulfil our promise? " Yefim knit his brow. ''We must wait a while," says he. "This year it'll come hard for me. I am engaged in building this izbd. I counted on spending about a hundred rubles ; but I'm already on the third, and it isn't finished yet. You see, that'll take till summer. In the sum- mer, if God grants, we will go without let or hinder- ance." "•According to my idea," says Yelisei, " we ought not to put it off : we ought to go to-day. It's the very time — spring." 144 TWO OLD MEN. " Time, certainly : but this work is begun ; how can I leav;^it?" *' Haven't you any one? Your son will attend to it." "How attend to it? My eldest sou is not to be trusted — he gets drunk." '' We shall die, old friend : they'll have to live with- out us. Your son must learn." *' That's so ; but I should like, with my own eyes, to see this job finished ! " '' Ekh ! my dear man, you will never get all you want done. Only the other day at my house^ the babas were cleaning house, fixing up for Easter. And both are necessary, but you'd never get through. And my oldest daughter-in-law, a sensible baba, says, ' Thank the Lord,' says she, ' Easter is coming : it doesn't wai+-. for us, else,' sa^^s she, ' they would never get done never finish it all.' " Tarasuitch was lost in thought. ''I have put a good deal of monc}^," says he, "into this building ; and we can't go on this journey with empty hands. It won't take less than one hundred rubles." Yelis^i" laughed out, — " Don't make a mistake, old friend," says he : " you have ten times as much property as I have. And you talk about money ! Only say when shall we go ? I haven't any thing, but I'll get some." Tardsuitch also smiled. " How rich you seem I " says he ; " but where will you get it? " "Well, I'll scrape some up at home — that'll be something : and for the rest, — I'll let my neighbor have ten of my hives. He has been after them for a long time." TWO OLD MEN. 145 *' This is going to be a good swarming-year : you'll regret it." " Regret it? No, old friend. I never regretted any thing in my life except my sins. There is nothing more precious than the soul ! " " That's so. But it's not pleasant when things aren't right at home." " But how will it be with us if our souls are not right? Then it will be worse. But we have made a vow — let us go! I beg of you, let us go! " 146 TWO OLD MEN. n. And Yelisci talked over his crony. Yefim thought about it, and thought about it ; and in the morning he came to Yelisci: ''Well, then,^ let us go," says he. " You are right. In death and in life, God rules. Since we are alive, and have strength, we must go." At the end of a week the old men had made their preparations. Tardsuitch had money in the house. He took one hundred rubles for his journey : two hundred he left for the old woman. Yelisci also was ready. He sold his neighbor the ten bee-hives. And the bees that would swarm from the ten hives, also he sold to the neighbor. He received, all told, seventy rubles. The thirty rubles remaining in the house, he took from its hiding-place. The old woman gave him all that she had saved up against her funeral : the daughter-in-law gave hers. Yefim Tardsuitch gave all his commands to his old- est son, — what meadows to rent out, and where to put manure, and how to finish and roof in the izbd. He thought about every thing, he fore-ordered every thing. But Yelisei only directed his old woman to hive the young swarms of bees that he had sold, and give them to his neighbor without any trickery ; but about household affairs, he did not have any thing to say : " If any thing comes up, let them attend to it. You people at home'^ do as you think best." 1 Tchto-sh. « Khozyaeva. TWO OLD MEN. 147 The old men were now ready. The folks baked a lot of flat-cakes,^ sewed some bags, cut new leg-wrap- pers:^ they put on new boots, took some extra bast- shoes {lapti), and set forth. The folks kept them company to the common pasture, wished them good-by, and the old men set out on their journey. Yelise'i set out in good spirits ; and as soon as he left the village, he forgot all about his cares. His only thoughts were how to please his companion, how not to say a single churlish word to any one, and how to go in peace and love to the (Holy) Places and return home. Yelis^i walks along the road, and all the time he either whispers a prayer, or calls to memory some saint's life which he knows. And if he meets any one on the road, or comes to any halting-place, he makes him- self useful and as agreeable as possible to every one, and even says a word in God's service. He goes his way rejoicing. One thing Yelis^i cannot do. He in- tended to give up snuff-taking, and he left his snuff- box ; but it was melancholj'. A man on the road gave him some. And now and again he drops behind his companion, so as not to l-ead him into temptation, and takes a pinch of snuff. Yeflm TarAsuitch also gets along well — sturdily: he does nothing wicked, and he says nothing churlish, but he is not easy in his mind. He cannot get out of his mind his household affairs. He keeps thinking of what is doing at home. Had he forgotten to give his son some commands? and is his son doing as he was told? If he sees any one by the road planting pota- toes, or spreading manure, he would think, " Is my son doing what I told him ? " He was almost ready to tu round and show him how, and even do it himself. 1 LepydnhkL * Onutchi. Strips of cloth used by the muzhiks instead of stockings. 148 TWO OLD MEN. III. Five weeks the old men had been journeying ; their home-made lapti were worn out, and they had been obliged to buj' new ones ; and they came to the land of the Top-Knots (Little Russia). From the time that they left home, they had paid for lodging and meals ; but now that they had come among the Top-Knots, the people began to vie with each other in giving them in- vitations. And they gave them shelter, and fed them, and would not take money from them, but even put bread, and sometimes flat-cakes, into their bags for the journey. Thus the old men journeyed nearly seven hundred (versts). They passed through this govern- ment, and came to a famine-stricken place. As for taking them in, they took them in ; and they would not take pay for lodging, but they could no longer feed them. And they did not always let them have bread ; and, again, it was not always to be obtained at all. The year before, so the people said, nothing had grown. Those who were rich had been ruined, and forced to sell out ; those who lived in medium st3'le had come down to nothing ; but the poor had either gone away altogether, or had come upon the commune,^ or had almost perished in their homes. All winter they had been living on husks and pig-weed. One time the old men put up at a little place ; they bought fifteen pounds of bread ; and, having spent the TWO OLD MEN. 149 Dight, they started off betimes, so as to get as far as possible before the heat of the day. They went ten versts, and reached a little river : they sat down, filled their cups with water, moistened the little loaves, and changed their shoes. They sat some time resting. Yelis^i got out his little snuff-horn. Tardsuitch shook his head at him. *' Why,'* says he, " don't you throw away that nasty stuff?" Yelis6i wrung his hands. " The sin is too strong for me," says he : "what can you do? " They got up, and went on their way. They went half a score of versts farther. They came to a great village : they went right through it. And already it had grown hot. Yelisei was dead with fatigue ; he wanted to rest, and have a drink : but Tarasuitch does not halt. Tardsuitch was the stronger in walking, and it was rather hard for Yelisei to keep up with him. " I'd like a drink," says he. " All right. Get a drink. I don't want any." Yelisei stopped. '* Don't wait," sajs he : " I'm only going to run in for a minute here at this hut, and get a drink. I'll overtake 3'ou in a jiffy." '^All right." And Yefim Tarasuitch proceeded on his wa}^ alone, and Yelisei turned back to the hut. Yelisei went up to the hut. The hut was small, and plastered with mud : below, it was black ; above, white. The clay was peeling off ; long, apparently, since it had been mended : and the roof in one place was broken through. The way to the hut led through the dvor. Yelisei went into the dvor, and sees, lying on a pile of earth, a thin, beardless man, in shirt and drawers 150 TWO OLD MEN. — ill Little Russian fashion. The man evidently had lain down when it was cool, but the sun beat straight down upon him. And he lies there, and is not asleep. Yelis^i shouted to him ; asked him for a drink. The man made no reply. '' Either he's sick or he's ugly," thought Yelis^i, and he went to the door. He hears children crying in the hut. Yelisei rapped with the ring: "Masters." ^ No replj'. He rapped again on the door with his staff: " Christians f"''^ No one moved. "Servants of God!" No one answers. Yelisei was about to proceed on his way, but he listens : some one seems to be groaning behind the door. "Can some misfortune have befallen these people? Must look and see." And Yelisei went into the hut. 1 Khozydeva. * KreshcWnuie; literally, Ye baptized! TWO OLD MEN. 151 IV. Yelisei turned the ring — it wasn't locked. He opened the door, and passed through the little vesti- bule. The door to the hut stood open ; at the left was an oven ; straight ahead was the corner ; in the corner, the shrine, a table ; by the table, a bench ; on the bench, an old woman, in a single shirt, with dis- hevelled hair, is sitting, resting her head on the table. At her elbow an emaciated little boy, pale as wax, with a distended belly, is tugging at the old woman's sleeve, and screaming at the top of his voice, asking for some- thing. Yelis^i went into the hut. In the hut, the air was sti- fling ; he looks ; behind the oven, on a shelf, a woman is lying. She lies on her back, and does not look up ; only moans, and sometimes stretches out her leg, some- times draws it up again. And she throws herself from side to side, and the stench arising from her shows that she has been shamefully neglected. The old woman raised her head, and looked at the man. " What do you want? " says she. ''What do you want? We hain't got nothing for you." ^ Yelisei understood what she said : he went up to her. " I am a servant of God," says he : "I come to get a drink." " Hain't got any, hain't got any. Hain't got any thing to get it in. Go away ! " 1 She speaks in the staccato Malo Russian dialect: Chovo tobltrebaf . . , iVJ/^ ma, Cholovitche, nitchovo! tobi for tibyi; ma for mui; cholovitcht for chelovyik (man). 152 TWO OLD MEN. Yelis^i* began to question her. '' Tell me,^ isn't there any one of you well enough to take care of the woman? " '' Hain't got any one — the man in the dvor is dying, and we are here." The boy had ceased crying when he saw the stranger ; but when the old woman spoke, he began to tug again at her sleeve: "Bread, granny, bread!" and began screaming again. Yelisei was going to ask more questions of the old woman, when the muzhik came stumbling into the hut : he went along the wall, and was going to sit on the bench, but failed of it, and fell into the corner at the threshold. And he did not try to get up : he tried to speak. One word he speaks — then breaks off, is out of breath, speaks another: — " Sick," — says he, " and starving. — Here — he — is — dying — starvation." The muzhik indicated the boy with his head, and burst into tears. Yelisei shook off his sack from his shoulders, freed his arms, set the sack on the floor, then lifted it to the bench, and began to undo it. He undid it, took out bread, a knife, cut off a slice, gave it to the muzhik. The muzhik would not take it, but pointed to the boy and to the girl. "Give it to them, please." Yelisei held it out to the boy. The malchik smelt the bread, stretched himself up, seized the slice with both hands, and buried his nose in the slice. A little girl crept out from behind the oven, and stared at the bread. Yelisei gave her some also. He cut off still another chunk, and gave it to the old woman. The old woman took it, tried to chew it. 1 Chtosh. TWO OLD MEN. 153 " Would you bring some water? " she said : " their mouths are parched. I tried," says she, "yesterday, or to-day, — I don't remember which, — to get some. I fell, couldn't get there ; and the bucket is there yet, unless some one has stolen it.'* Yelisei asked where their well was. The old woman gave him the directions. Yelisei went and found the bucket, brought water, gave the people some to drink. The children were still eating bread and water, and the old woman ate some too ; but the muzhik refused to eat. " It makes me sick at my stomach." His baba, who did not notice any thing at all, or come to herself, only tossed about on the loft. Yelisei went to the village, bought at the shop some millet, salt, flour, butter, looked round for a hatchet. He split up some wood, — began to kindle up the oven. The little girl began to help him. Yelisei boiled some porridge and kasha, fed the people. 154 TWO OLD MEN. V. The muzhik ate a little, and the old woman ate ; but the little girl and the little boy licked the bowl clean, and lay down to sleep locked in each other's arms. The muzhik and the old woman began to relate how all this had come upon them. '^ We weren't rich, even before this," say they ; *' but when nothing grew, we had to give all we had for food last autumn. We parted with every thing : then we had to go begging among our neighbors and kind people. At first they gave to us, but then they sent us away. Some would have gladly given to us, but they had nothing. Yes, and we were ashamed to beg : we got in debt to every one, both for money and flour and bread. I tried to get work," said the muzhik, " but there was no work. People everywhere were wander- ing about to work for something to eat. You'd work one day, and you'd go about for two hunting for work. The old woman and the little girl had to go a long way off begging. Not much was given them : no one had any bread to spare. And so we lived, hoping we'd get along somehow till new crops came. But then they stopped giving at all, and then sickness came on. Things were just as bad as they could be. One day we had something to eat, but the next two nothing. We began to eat grass. Yes, perhaps it was from eat- ing grass, or something of the sort, that my baba got sick. My baba became sick, and I haven't any TWO OLD MEN. 155 strength,*' says the muzhik. ''There was no way of curing us." " I was the only one," says the old woman, " who kept up ; but without eating, I lost my strength, and got puny. And the little girl got puny, and lost heart. We sent her to the neighbors, but she wouldn't go. She crept into the corner, and wouldn't come out. Day before yesterday a neighbor came round, yes, and she saw that we were starving, and were sick ; but she turned round and went off. Her husband had left her, and she hadn't any thing to feed her little chil- dren with. . . . And so here we lay, — waiting for death." Yelis^i listened to their talk, changed his mind about going to rejoin his companion that day, and spent the night there. In the morning Yelis^'i got up, did the chores as though he were master of the house. He and the old woman kneaded the bread, and he kindled the fire. He went with the little girl to the neighbors', to get what they needed ; for there was nothing to be found — nothing at all ; every thing had been disposed of ; there was nothing for domestic purposes, and no cloth- ing. And Yelis6i began to lay in a supply of what was needed. Some he himself made, and some he bought. Thus Yelisei spent one day, spent a second, spent also a third. The little boy got better, began to climb up on the bench, to caress Yelisei. But the little girl became perfectly gay, helps in all things. And she keeps running after Yelisei: " Grand-dad, dear little grand- daddy ! " ^ And the old woman also got up, and went among the neighbors. And the muzhik began to walk, 1 I>idu, diditsyu, Malo Russian for dyedya, dyeduahka. 156 TWO OLD MEN. supporting himself bj the wall. Only the haba still lay unconscious ; but even she, on the third day, came to herself, and began to ask for something to eat. " Well,'*^ thinks Yelis^i, "I didn't expect to spend so much time : now I'll be going.'* TWO OLD MEN. 157 VI. On the fourth day, meat-eating was allowed for the first time after the fast; and Yelis(^i thinks, "Come, now, I will feast with these people. I will buy them something for the Saints' day,^ and toward evening I will go." Yelisei went to the village again, bought milk, white flour, lard. He and the old woman boiled and baked ; and in the morning Yelisei went to mass, came home, ate meat with the people. On this day the baba also got up, and began to creep about. And the muz- hik had shaved, put on a clean shirt, — the old woman had washed it out, — and gone to the village to ask mercy of a rich muzhik. Both meadow and corn-land had been mortgaged to the rich muzhik. So he went to ask if he would not give him the meadow and corn- land till the new crops. The khozydin returned toward evening, gloomy and in tears. The rich muzhik would not have pity on him : " He says, ' bring your money.* " Again Yelisei falls into thought. "How will he live now?" thinks he. "The men will be going out to mow : he has nothing. His ha}"- field is mortgaged. The rye is ripening ; the men are beginning to harvest it (our good mdtushka has come up well this year), but these won't have anything: their field ^ has been mortgaged to the rich muzhik. If I go away, they'll all go wrong again." » St. Peter and St. Paul; July 11 (June 29, O.S.). » Desydtina. 158 TWO OLD MEN. And Yelis^i was all broken up by these thoughts, and did not take his departure that evening : he waited till morning. He went out into the dvor to sleep. He said his prayers, lay down, and can't sleep. "I must go — here I have been spending so much money and time — and I'm sorry for these people. You can't give to everybody, evidently. I meant to get them some water, and give them a slice of bread ; but just see how it has taken me ! Now — I must redeem their meadow and their field. And when I've redeemed their field, I must buy a cow for the children, and a horse to carry the muzhik's sheaves. There you are in a pretty pickle, brother Yelisei Kuzmitch ! You're anchored here, and you don't get off so easy ! " Yelis(^i got up, took his kaftan from under his head,, unfolded it, found his snuflT-horn, took a pinch of snuff, tried to clear up his thoughts ; but no, he thought and he thought, but could not think it out. He must go ; but he pitied these people. And what to do, he knew not. He folded up his kaftan for a pillow, and lay down again. He lay and he lay, and the cocks were already singing when he finally fell into a doze. Suddenly, something seemed to wake him up. He sees himself, as it were, all dressed, with his sack and his staff ; and he has to go into a gate, but the gate is so nearl}" shut that only one person can get through at a time. And he goes to the gate, and got caught on one side by his sack : he tried to detach it, and got caught on the other side by his leg-wrapper ; and the leg-wrapper untied. He tried to detach it, but he was not caught by the wattle after all ; but that little girl holds him, crying, "Grand-dad, dear little grand-dadd}-, bread! " ^ He looked down at his leg, and to his leg-wrapper the 1 Didu, didusyu, khliba. TWO OLD MEN. 159 little boy is clinging : the old woman and the muzhik are gazing from the window. Yelisei woke up, and said to himself aloud, "'To- morrow," sa3's he, "I will redeem the field and the meadow ; and I will buy a horse, and flour enough to last till the new comes ; and I will buy a cow for the children. For you will go across the sea to find Christ, and lose him in 3'our own soul. I must set these peo- ple right." And Yelisei slept till morning. Yelisei woke up early. He went to the rich muz- hik : he redeemed the rye-field ; he paid cash for it, and for the meadow-land. He bought a scythe, — the very one that had been disposed of, — brought it back. He sent the muzhik to mow, and he himself went to the muzhiks ; at last found a horse and tel3'^ga which an inn-keeper was ready to sell. He struck a bargain, bought them. He bought, also, some flour, put the sack in the tely^ga, and went farther to buy a cow. Yelisei is going along : he overtakes two Top-Knots. They are babas ; and, as they walk, they gossip. And Yelisei hears the babas talking in their own speech, and he makes out that they are talking about him. " Heavens ! at first they didn't know what to make of him : their idea was, he was a mere man. As he came by, it seems, he stopped to get a drink, and then he staid. Whatever they needed, he bought. I my- self saw him this very day buy of the tavern-keeper a nag and cart.^ Didn't know there were such folks in the world. Must go and see him ! '* Yelisei heard this ; understood that they were praising him, and did not go to buy the cow. He returned to the tavern, and paid the money for the horse. He 1 Vos. Malo Russiau for tely4ga. 160 TWO OLD MEN. harnessed up, and drove with the wheat back to the hut. He drove up to the gate, reined in, and dis- mounted from the tely^ga. The household saw the horse : they wondered. And it comes to them that he had bought the horse for them, but they dare not say so. The khozydin came out to open the gate. ''Where," says he, ''did you get the nag, grand- pa?"i '' I bought it," says lie. " I got it cheap. Mow a little grass, please, for the stall, for her to lie on over night. Yes, and lug in the bag." The khozydin unharnessed the horse, lugged the bag into the house, mowed a lot of grass, spread it in the stall. They went to bed. Yelisei lay down out-doors, and there he had lugged his sack the evening before. All the folks were asleep. Yelisei got up, shouldered his sack, fastened his boots, put on his kaftan, and started on his way after Yefim. 1 Dyidmhka. TWO OLD MEN. ' 161 VII. Yeltsei had gone five versts : it began to grow light. He sat down under a tree, opened his sack, began to reckon. He counted his money : there were left only seventeen rubles, twenty kopeks. " Well," thinks he, '' witli this you won't get across the sea. And to beg in Christ's name — that might be a great sin. Friend Yefim will go alone : he'll set a candle for me. But the tax will remain on me till death. Thank the Lord, the Master^ is kind: he will have patience." Yelisei got up, lifted his sack upon his shoulders, and went back. Only, he went out of his way round the village, so that the people of it might not see him. And Yelisei reached home quickly. When he started, it seemed hard to him, beyond his strength, to keep up with Yefim ; but going back, God gave him such strength that he walks along and does not know fatigue. He walks along gayly, swings his staff, goes his seventy versts a day. Yelisei reached home. Already the fields had been harvested. The folks were delighted to see their old man : they began to ask him questions, — how, and what, and why he had left his companion, why he did not go on, but came home. Yelisei did not care to tell them about it. ''God did not permit me," says he. "I lost my » Ehozkyain. 162 TWO OLD MEN. money on the road, and got behind my companion. And so I did not go. Forgive me, for Christ's sake.*' And he handed the old woman his remaining money. Yelisei inquired about the domestic afifairs : it was all right ; every thing had been done properly ; there was nothing left undone in the farm-work, and all are living in peace and harmony. On this very same day, Yefim*s people heard that Yelisei had returned : they came round to ask after their old man. And Yelisei told them the same thing. "• Your old man," says he, " went on sturdily; we parted," sa3's he, 'Hhree days before Peter's Da}^ ; I intended to catch up with him, but then so many things happened; I lost my money, and, as I couldn't go on with what I had, I came back." The people wondered how such a sensible man could have done so foolishly — start out, and not go on, and only waste his money. They wondered and forgot. And Yelisei forgot. He began to do the chores again ; he helped his son chop wood against the winter ; he threshed the corn with the babas ; he re-thatched the shed, arranged about the bees, and gave his neighbor the ten hives with their increase. His old woman wanted to hide how many swarms had come from the hives that he had sold : but Yelisei himself knew what hives had swarmed, and what had not ; and he gave his neighbor, instead of ten, seventeen swarms. Yel- isei arranged every thing, sent his son off to work, and he himself settled down for the winter to make bast-shoes ^ and chisel out bee-hives. TWO OLD MEN. 163 VIII. All that day that Yelis(^i staid in the sick folks' hut, Yefiin waited for his companion. He went a little way, and sat down. He waited, waited ; went to sleep, woke up ; still sat there ; no companion ! He gazed with all his eyes. Already the sun had gone behind the trees — no Yelisei. '^ He can't have gone past me, or ridden by (perhaps some one gave him a lift) , and not seen me while I was asleep, can he? He could not have helped seeing me. You see a long way on the steppes. If I should go back," he thinks, '^ he would be getting ahead. We might miss each other : that would be still worse. 1 will go on : we shall meet at our lodging.'* He went on to a village, asked the village police- men ^ to send such and such an old man, if he came along, to yonder hut. Yelis^i did not come to the lodging. Yefim went farther ; asked everybody if they had seen a bald, little old man. No one had. Yefim won- dered, and went on alone. *' We shall meet," he thinks, " in Odessa somewhere, or on board ship." And he ceased to think about it. On the way he met a strdnnik.^ The strAnnik wore a skull-cap and cassock, and had long hair ; had been to the Athos Monastery, and was going to Jerusalem for the second time. They met at the lodgings, got into conversation, and went on together. * I>e$ydt8ki. ' A professional pilgrim, of the genus tramp. 164 TWO OLD men: They reached Odessa safely. They waited thrice twenty-four hours for a ship. Many pilgrims were waiting there. They were from different lands. Again Yeflm made inquiries about Yelisei : no one had seen him. Yefim asked for a passport : it cost five rubles. He paid forty silver rubles ^ for a return-ticket ; bought bread and herring for the voyage. The vessel was loaded, the pilgrims embarked : Tardsuitch also took his place with the strannik. They hoisted anchor, set sail, flew across the sea. They sailed well all day ; at evening a wind sprang up, rain fell ; it began to get rough, and the waves dashed over the ship. The people were thrown about, the babas began to scream, and the weaker among the men began to run about the vessel, trying to find a place. Fear fell upon Yefim also, but he did not show it. Exactly where he had sat down on coming on board, near some old men from Tambof, here also he kept sitting all night and all the next day : they only clung to their sacks, and said nothing. It cleared off on tlie third day. On the fifth day they reached Tsar- gracl.^ Some of the strdnniks were put ashore : they wanted to look at the temple of Sophia- Wisdom, where now the Turks hold sway. Tardsuitch did not land : he still sat on board. Only he bought some white loaves. They staid twenty-four hours : again they flew over the sea. They made another stop at the bity of Smyrna ; at another city, Alexandria ; and they happily reached the city of Jaffa. At Jaffa all the pilgrims disembarked. It was seventy versts on foot to Jerusalem. Also at landing, the people were panic- struck : the ship was high, and the people had to jump 1 Tsyelkdviks, 2 Constantinople, the Tsar-city, TWO OLD MEN. 165 down into boats ; and the boat rocked, and one might not strike it, but fall in alongside ; and two men were drenched, but all landed happily. They landed : they started off on foot. On the third day after lauding, they reached Jerusalem. The}' estab- lished themselves in the city at the Russian hostelry ; ^ their passports are visa-ed ; they ate dinner ; they went with the strdnnik to the Holy Places. But to the Lord's sepulchre itself, there was no longer any ad- mittance. They went to the Patriarchal Monastery ; there all the worshippers collected ; the feminine sex sat down, the masculine sex also sat down in another place. They were bidden to take off their shoes, and to sit in a circle. A monk came in with a towel, and began to wash all their feet: he washes them, wipes them, and kisses them ; and thus he does to all. He washed Yefim's feet, and kissed them. They attended vespers, matins : they said their prayers, they placed candles, and presented petitions for their parents. And here also they took an occasional bite, and brought wine. In the morning they went to the cell of Mary of Egypt, where she made her refuge. They set up candles, sang a Te Deum. Thence they went to the Monastery of Abraha.m. They saw the garden on Mount Moriah — the place where Abraham was going to sacrifice his son * The five or six thousand Russian pilgrims who every year visit Jerusa- lem, says a recent traveller, " are all accommodated in the extensive premises belonging to the Russian Government, in the centre of which the Russian Consulate is situated, and which forms a sort of Russian suburb to the Holy City." Mr. Oliphant quotes a correspondent of the Daily News to the effect that the "Orthodox Palestine Society, one of whose tasiis it is to facilitate Russian pilgrimage to the IToly Land," has a membership of more than six hundred members, a reserve capital of sixty thousand rubles, and a Grand Duke — the uncle of the Tsar — as its president. It is a curious question how long religious fanatics will be able to impose the " pious frauds " of the religious places upou credulous pilgrims, such as Yefim Tarasuitch. 166 TWO OLD MEN. to God. Then they went to the place where Christ revealed himself to Mary Magdalene, and to the Church of James the Brother of the Lord. The strdnnik pointed out all these places, and always told where it was necessary to contribute money. They returned for dinner to the hostelry ; and after dinner, just as they were getting ready to go to bed, the strdn- nik began to say Akh^ to shake his clothes, to search. '*! have been robbed," he saj's, " of my portmonet, with my money. Twenty -three rubles," says he, " there was in it — two ten-ruble notes, and three in change." The strannik mourned, mourned ; nothing to be done : they lay down to sleep. TWO OLD MEN. 167 IX. YEpfM lay down to sleep, and temptation fell upon him. "The str^nnik's money was not stolen," he thinks : " he didn't have any. He never gave any. He told me where to give, but he himself did not give : yes, and he borrowed a ruble of me.'* Thus Yefim thinks, and then he begins to scold himself. " Why," says he, "do I judge the man? 1 do wrong. I won't think about it." As he becomes sleepy, again he begins to think how sharp the strdnnik was about money, and how he tells an unlikely story about his portmonet being stolen. "He hadn't any money," he thinks. " It was a trick." Next morning they got up, and went to early mass in the great Church of the Resurrection ; to the tomb of the Lord. The strdnnik does not leave Yefim : he goes with him everywhere. They went to the church. A great crowd of people were collected together, of pilgrim-strdnniks, Russians, and all peoples — of Greeks and Armenians, and Turks and Syrians. Yefim entered the sacred gates with the people. A monk led them. He led them past Turkish guards to the place where the Saviour was taken from the cross, and anointed, and where the nine great candlesticks are burning. He points out every thing, and tells them every thing. Here Yefim placed a candle. Then some monks led Yefim to the right hand up the little flight of steps to Golgotha, where the cross 168 TWO OLD MEN. stood. Here Yefim said a prayer. Then they pointed out to Yefim the hole where the earth had opened down to hell ; then they pointed out the place where they had fastened Christ's hands and feet to the cross ; then they showed the tomb of Adam, over whose bones Christ's blood had flowed ; then they came to the stone whereon Christ had sat when they put on him the crown of thorns ; then to the pillar to which they bound Christ when they scourged him ; then Yefim saw the stone with two hollows for Christ's feet. They were going to show them something more, but the crowd were in a hurry : they all rushed to the very grotto of the Lord's sepulchre. There the foreign mass had just ended, the orthodox mass was just be- ginning. Yefim went into the grotto with the throng. He was anxious to get rid of the str^nnik, for contin- uall}^ in his thoughts he was sinning against the stran- nik : but the strdnnik would not be got rid of ; in com- pany with him he goes to mass at the Lord's sepulchre. They tried to get nearer : they did not get there in time. The people are wedged so close that there is no going forward or back. Yefim stands, gazes forward, says his prayers ; but it is no use ; ^ he keeps feeling whether his purse is still there. He is divided in his thoughts ; one way he thinks the strdnnik is deceiving him ; the other, he thinks, " Or, if he is not deceiving me, and he was really robbed, why, then, it might be the same with me also.*' 1 2f'y4tt n*yct. Literally, no, no. TWO OLD MEN. 169 Thus Yefira stands, says his praj'ers, and looks forward toward the chapel where the sepulchre itself is ; and on the sepulchre the thirty-six lamps are burning. Yeflm stands, looks over the heads, when, what a marvel! Under the lamps themselves, where the blessed fire burns before all, he sees a little old man standing, in a coarse kaftan, with a bald spot over his whole head, just as in the case of Yelis^i Bodrof. " It's like Yelis6i," he thinks. " But it can't be him. He can't have got here before me. No vessel had sailed for a week before us. He couldn't have got in ahead. And he wasn't on our vessel. I saw all the pilgrims." While Yefim was thus reasoning, the little old man began to pray ; and he bowed three times — once straight ahead, toward God, and then toward the orthodox throng on all sides. And as the little old man bent down his head to the right, then Yefim recognized him. It is Bodrof himself, with his blackish, curly beard, growing gray on the cheeks ; and his eyebrows, and eyes, and nose, and all his peculiarities. It is Yelis^i Bodrof himself. Yefira was filled with joy because his companion had come, and wondered how Yelis^i had got there ahead of him. "Well, well,^ Bodrof," he says to himself, 1 M dal 170 TWO OLD MEN. " how (lid he get up there in front? He must have fallen in with somebody who put him there. Let me just meet him as we go out : I'll get rid of this strdn- nik in his skull-cap, and go with him ; and perhaps he will get me a front place too." And all the time Yefim keeps his eyes on Yelisei, so as not to miss him. Now the mass was over ; the crowd reeled, they tried to make their way, they struggled ; Yeflm was pushed to one side. Again the fear came upon him that some one would steal his purse. Yefim clutched his purse, and tried to break through the crowd, so as to get into an open space. He made his way into the open space ; he went and went, he sought and sought for Yelisei, and in the church also. And there, also, in the church he saw many people in cloisters ; and some were eating, and drinking wine, and sleeping, and reading. And there was no Yelisei anywhere. Yefim returned to the hostelry, did not find his companion. And this evening the strdnnik -also did not come back. He disappeared, and did not return the ruble. Y^efim was left alone. On the next day Yefim again went to the Lord's sep- ulchre with an old man from Tambof , who had come on the same ship with him. He wanted to get to the front, but again he was crowded back ; and he stood by a pillar, and prayed. He looked to the front; again under the lamps, at the very sepulchre of the Lord, in the fore- most place, stands Yelisei, spreads his arms like the priest at the altar ; and the light shines all over his bald head. '' Well," ^ thinks Yefim, " now I'll surely not miss him." ^2ru TWO OLD MEN. 171 He tries to push through to the front. He pushes through. No Yelisei. Apparently gone out. And on the third day, again he gazes towards the Lord's sepulchre : in the same sacred spot stands Yel- isei, with the same aspect, his arms outspread, and looking up, almost as though his eyes were fixed upon him. And the bald spot on his whole head shines. ''Well," thinks Yefim, " now I'll not miss him : I'll go and stand at the door. There we sha'n't miss each other." Yefim went and stood and stood. He stood there half the day : all the people went out — no Yelisei. Yefim spent six weeks in Jerusalem, and visited every thing; and in Bethlehem, and Bethany, and on the Jordan : and he had a seal stamped on a new shirt at the Lord's sepulchre, so that he might be buried in it ; and he got some Jordan water in a vial, and some earth ; and he got some candles with the holy fire, and he noted down his recollections in all places ; and hav- ing spent all his money, except enough to get him home, Yefim started on the home-journey. He went to Jaffa, took passage in a ship, sailed to Odessa, and started to walk home. 172 TWO OLD MEN. XI. YEpfM walks alone over the same road as before. As he began to near his home, again the worriment came upon him as to how the folks were getting along with- out him. '' In a year," thinks he, " much water leaks away. You spend a whole lifetime making 9 house, and it don't take long to go to waste." How had his son conducted affairs? how had the spring opened up? how had the cattle weathered the winter ? how had they done the izbd ? ' ' Yefim reached that place where, the year before, he had parted from Yelis^i. It was impossible to recog- nize the people. Where, the preceding year, the people were wretchedly poor, now all lived in sufficient com- fort. There had been good crops. The people had recovered, and forgotten their former trouble. Yefim at evening reached the very village where, the 3'ear before, Yelis^i had stopped. He had hardly en- tered the village, when a little girl in a white shirt sprang out from behind a hut : — *' Grandpa! Dear grandpa!^ Come into our house ! ' ' Yefim was inclined to go on, but the little girl would not allow him : she seizes him by the skirts, pulls him along into the hut, and laughs. There came out upon the doorsteps a woman with a little boy ; she also beckons to him : " Come in, please, 1 Did! didko. Malo Russian for D'yid, d^yidunhka. TWO OLD MEN. 173 grand-sire, d*yedushko, — and take supper with us, — you shall spend the night." Yeflm went in. ''That's just right," he thinks: " I will ask about Yelis^i. No doubt, this is the very hut where he stopped to get a drink." Yefira went in : the woman took his sack from him, gave him a chance to wash, and set him at the table. She put on milk, vareniki,^ kasha-gruel, — she set them all on the table. Tardsuitch thanked and praised the people for being so hospitable to strduniks. The woman shook her head : — '' We cannot help being hospitable to strdnniks. We owe our lives to a strdunik. We lived, we had for- gotten God, and God had forgotten us, so that all that we expected was death. Last summer it went so bad with us, that we were all sick, — and had nothing to cat, and — we were sick. And we should have died ; but God sent us such a nice old man, just like you ! He came in just at noon to get a drink ; and when he saw us, he was sorry for us, yes, and he staid on with us. And he gave us something to drink, and fed us, and put us on our legs ; and he bought back our land, and he bought us a horse and tely^ga, left them with us." The old woman came into the hut ; she interrupted the woman's story: "And we don't know at all," says she, " whether it was a man, or an angel of God. He loved us all so, and he was so sorry for us ; and he went away, and did not tell us [who he was], and we don't know who we should pray God for. I can see it now just as it was : there I was Ijing, expecting to die ; 1 see a little old man come in — not a bit stuck up — 1 A sort of triangular doughuute, or boiled patties, stuffed with clieese or curds. 174 TWO OLD MEN. rather bald — he asks for water. Sinner that I was, I thought, ' What are they prowling round here for ? ' And think what he did ! As soon as he saw us, he right off with his sack, and set it right on that spot, and untied it." And the little girl broke in, — "No," says she, '^bdbushka: first he set his sack right in the middle of the hut, and then he put it on the bench." And they began to discuss it, and to recall all his words and actions ; both where he sat, and where he slept, and what he did, and what he said to any of them. At nightfall came the muzhik-khozydin on horse- back : he, also, began to tell about Yelisei, and how he had lived with them : — "If he had not come to us," says he, "we should all have died in our sins. We were perishing in despair : we murmured against God and against men. But he. set us on our feet ; and through him we learned to know. God, and we have come to believe that there are good people. Christ bless him ! Before, we lived like cat- tle : he made us men." The people fed Yeflm, gave him enough to drink : they fixed him for the night, and they themselves lay down to sleep. Yefim is unable to sleep ; and the thought does not leave his mind, how he had seen Yelisei in Jerusalem three times in the foremost place. " That's how he got there before me," he thinks. " My labors may, or may not, be accepted, but the Lord has accepted his." In the morning the people wished Yefim good-speed ; they loaded him with pirozhki for his journey, and they went to their work : and Yefim started on his way. TWO OLD MEN. 175 XII. Yefim had been gone exactly a year. In the spring he returned home. He reached home in the evening. His son wns not at home : he was at the tavern.^ His son came home tips3\ Yefim began to question him. In ail respects he saw that the young man had got into bad waj's during his absence. He had spent all the money badly, he had neglected things. The father began to reprimand him. The son began to be impudent. ''You yourself might have stirred about a little,'* says he, " but you went wandering. Yes, and you took all the money with you besides, and then you call me to account ! ' ' The father grew angry, beat his son. In the morning Yefim Tardsuitch started for the stdrosta's to talk with him about his son : he goes by Yelis^i's dvor. Yelisei's old woman is standing on the doorsteps : she greets him. "How's your health, neighbor?" says she: "did you have a good pilgrimage? " Yefim Tar^suitch stopped. " Glory to God," says he, "I have been! I lost your old man, but I hear he got home ! " And the old woman began to talk. She was very fond of prattling. "He got back," says she, "good neighbor: he got * Kabak. 176 TWO OLD MEN. back long ago. Very soon after the Assumption. And glad enough we were that God brought him. It was lonesome for us without him. He isn't good for much work — his day is done; but he is the head, and we are happier. And how glad our lad was ! ' Without father,* says he, ' it's like being without light in the eye.' It was lonesome for us without him, we iove him and we missed him so ! '* '' Well,^ is he at home now? '* " Yes, friend, he's with the bees : he's hiving the new swarms. '• Splendid swarms,' says he : such a power of bees God never gave, as far as my old man remembers. God doesn't grant according to our sins, he says. Come in, neighbor : 2 how glad he'll be to see you ! " Yefim passed through the vestibule, through the dvor to the apiary where Yelisei" was. He went into the apiary, he looks — Yelisei is standing under a little birch-tree, without a net, without gloves, in his gray kaftan, spreading out his arms, and looking up; and the bald spot over his whole head gleams, just as when he stood in Jerusalem at the Lord's sepulchre ; and over him, just as in Jerusalem the candles burned, the sun- light plays through the birch-tree ; and around his head the golden bees circle in a crown, fly in and out, and do not sting him. Yefim stood still. Yelis^i's old woman called to her husband : — " Our neighbor's come," says she. Yelisei looked around, was delighted, came to meet his companion,^ calmly detaching the bees from his beard. "How are you, comrade, ^ how are you, my dear friend ! — did you have a good journey? " 1 Chto-gh. » Eum. TWO OLD MEN. Ill *' My feet went on the pilgrimage, and I have brought yovi some water from the river Jordan. Come — you shall have it — but whether the Lord accepted my labors ' ' — '' Well, glory to God, Christ save us ! " Yefim was silent for a moment. '' My legs took me there, but whether it was my soul that was there, or another's " — '' That is God's affan*, comrade, God's affair." "On my way back 1 stopped also — at the hut where you left me " — Yelis^i became confused : he hastened to repeat, — " It's God's affair, comrade, God's affair. What say you?^ shall we go into the izbd? — I will bring you some honey." And Yelisei changed the conversation : he spoke about domestic affairs. Yefim sighed, and did not again remind Yelisei' of the people in the hut, and the vision of him that he had seen in Jerusalem. And he learned that in this world God bids every one do his duty till death — in love and good deeds. 1 CMo-zh. TEXTS FOR WOOD-CUTS. 1885. THE devil's persistent, BUT GOD IS RESISTA.NT.^ There lived in old time a good master.^ He had plenty of every thing, and many slaves served him. And the slaves used to praise their master.^ They said, — *' There is not a better master under heaven than ours. He not only feeds us and clothes us well, and gives us work according to our strength, but he never insults any of us, and never gets angry with us : he isn't like other masters, who treat their slaves worse than cattle, and kill them whether they are to blame or not, and never say a kind word to them. Our master, he wishes us well, and treats us kindly, and says pleasant things to us. We couldn't have a better life than ours." Thus the slaves praised their master. And here the Devil began to get vexed because the slaves lived in comfort and love with their master. And the Devil got hold of one of the slaves of this master, named Al'yeb. He got hold of him — com- manded him to entice the other slaves. * Vraghye Lyepko a Boshye Kryepko. * Khozyain. » Gospodin, Lord. 178 TEXTS FOR WOOD-CUTS. 179 And when all the slaves were taking their rest, and were praising their master, Al'yeb raised his voice, and said, " It's all nonsense your praising our master's goodness. Try to humor the Devil, and the Devil will be good. "We serve our master well, we humor him in all things. As soon as he thinks of any thing, we do it: we divine his thoughts. How make him be not good to us? Just stop humoring him, and do bad work for him, and he will be like all the others, and he will return evil for evil worse than the Grossest of masters." And the other slaves began to argue with Alyeb. And they argued, and laid a wager. Alyeb undertook to make their kind master angry. He undertook it on the condition, that, if he does not make him angry, he shall give his Sunday clothes ; but if he makes him angry, then they agree to give him, each one of them, their Sunday clothes ; and, moreover, they agree to pro- tect him from their master, if he should be put in irons, or, if thrown in prison, to free him. They laid the wager, and Al'yeb promised to make their master angry the next morning. Alyeb served his master in the sheep-cote : he had charge of the costly breeding-rams. And here in the morning the good master came with some guests to the sheep-cote, and began to show them his beloved, costly rams. The Devil's accomplice winked to his comrades : — " Look ! I'll soon get the master angry." All the slaves had gathered. They peeked in at the door and through the fence ; and the Devil climbed into a tree, and looks down into the dvor, to see how his accomplice will do his work. The master came round the dvor, showed his guests 180 TEXTS FOR WOOD-CUTS. his sheep and lambs, and then was going to show his best ram. *' The other rams," says he, "are good ; but this one here, the one with the twisted horns, is priceless ; he is dearer to me than my eyes.'* The sheep and rams are jumping about the dvor to avoid the people, and the guests are unable to examine the valuable ram. This ram scarcely comes to a stop when the Devil's accomplice, as though accidentally, scares the sheep, and again they get mixed up. The guests are unable to make out which is the price- less ram. Here the master became tired. He says, — " Alyeb, my dear, just try to catch the best ram with the wrinkled horns, and hold him. Be careful." And, as soon as the master said this, Al'yeb threw himself, like a lion, amid the rams, and caught the price- less ram by the wool. He caught him by the wool, and instantly grabbed him with one hand by the left hind- leg, lifted it up, and, right before the master's eyes, bent his leg, and it cracked like a dry stick. Al'yeb broke the dear ram's leg near the knee. The ram bleated, and fell on his fore-knees. Alyeb grabbed him by the right leg ; but the left turned inside out, and hung down like a whip. The guests and all the slaves said, "Akh ! " and the Devil rejoiced when he saw how cleverly Ar3'eb had done his job. The khozyAin grew darker than night, frowned, hung his head, and said not a word. The guests and slaves were also silent. ... They waited to see what would be. The khozydi'n kept silent a while : then he shook himself, as though tr3'ing to throw off something, and raised his head, and turned his eyes heavenward. Not TEXTS FOR WOOD-CUTS. 181 long he gazed before the wrinkles on his brow disap- peared : he smiled, and fixed his eyes on Al'yeb. He looked at Al'yeb, smiled again, and said, '' O Al'yeb, Al'yeb ! Thy master told thee to make me angry. But my master is stronger than thine, and thou hast not led me into anger ; but I shall make thy 'master angry. Thou wert afraid that I would punish thee, and hast wished to be free, Al'yeb. Know, then, that thy pun- ishment will not come from me ; but as thou art anxious for thy freedom, here, in the presence of my guests, I give thee thy dismissal. Go wherever it may please thee,^ and take thy Sunday clothes." And the kind master went back to the house with his guests. But the Devil gnashed his teeth, fell from the tree, and sank through the earth. LITTLE GIRLS WISER THAN OLD MEN. Easter was early. Sleighing was just over. The snow still lay in the dvors, and little streams ran through the village. In an alley between two dvors a large pool had collected from the dung-heaps. And near this pool were standing two little girls from either dvor, — one of them younger, the other older. The mothers of the two little girls had dressed them in new sarafans, — the younger one's blue, the elder's of yellow flowered damask. Both were tied with red handkerchiefs. The little girls, after mass was over, had gone to the pool, showed each other their dresses, and began to play. And the whim seized them to splash in the water. The younger one was just going to wade into the pool with her little slippers on ; but the older one said, — "Don't do it, Malashka — your mother will scold. 1 Literally, ** to all four sides." 182 TEXTS FOE WOOD-CUTS. I'm going to take off my shoes and stockings — you take off yours." The little girls took off their shoes and stockings, held up their clothes, and went into the pool so as to meet. Malashka waded in up to her ankles, and says, — " It's deep, Akuliushka — 1 am afraid." ''This is nothing. It won't be any deeper. Come right toward me." They began to get nearer each other, ^nd Akulka '' Be careful, Malashka, don't splash, but go more slowly." But the words were hardly out of her mouth, when Malashka put her foot down into the water : it splashed straight on Akulka's sarafan. The sarafan was well spattered, and it flew into her nose and eyes. Akulka saw the spots on her sarafan : she became angry with Malashka, scolded her, ran after her, tried to slap her. Malashka was frightened seeing what mischief she bad done, leaped out of the pool, hastened home. Akulka's mother happened to pass by, saw her little daughter's sarafan spattered, and her shirt bedaubed. '' How did you get yourself all covered with dirt, you good-for-nothing? " ''Malashka spattered me on purpose." Akulkin's mother caught Malashka, and struck her on the back of the head. Malashka howled along the whole street. Malash- kin's mother came out : — "What are you striking my daughter for?" She began to scold her neighbor. A word for a word : the women got into a quarrel. The muzhiks hastened out, a great crowd gathered on the street. All are scream- TEXTS FOR WOOD-CUTS. 183 ing. No one listens to anybody. They quarrel, and the one jostled the other ; there was a general row im- minent : but an old woman, Akulkiu's grandmother,^ interfered. She came out into the midst of the muzhiks, and be- gan to speak : " What are you doing, neighbors? What day is it? We ought to rejoice. And you are doing such wrong things ! " They heed not the old woman : they almost strike her. And the old woman would never have succeeded in [persuading them, had it not been for Akulka and Malashka. While the babas were keeping up the quar- rel, Akulka cleaned her sarafanchik, and came out again to the pool in the alley. She picked up a little stone, and began to clear away the earth by the pool, so as to let the water run into the street. While she was cleaning it out, Malashka also came along, began to help her — to make a little gutter with a splinter. The muzhiks were just coming to blows when the water reached the street, flowing through the gutter made by the little girls ; and it went straight to the very spot where the old woman was trying to separate the muzhiks. The little girls are chasing it, one on one side, the other on the other, of the runnel. ''Catch it, Malashka! catch it!'* cries Akulka. Malashka also tries to say something, but laughter pre- vents. Thus the little girls chase it, and laugh as the splin- ter swims down the runnel. They ran right into the midst of the muzhiks. The old woman saw them, and she says to the muzhiks, — » Babka. 184 TEXTS FOR WOOD-CUTS. "You should fear Gocl, you muzhiks! it was on account of the same little girls that you picked up a quarrel, but they forgot all about it long ago : dear little things, they are playing together lovingly again." The muzhiks looked at the little girls, and felt ashamed. Then the muzhiks laughed at themselves, and went home to their dvors. "If ye are not like children, ye cannot enter into the kingdom of God." TWO BROTHERS AND GOLD. Once upon a time, there lived, not far from Jerusa- lem, two brothers, the elder Afanasi, and the younger one Yoann. They lived on a mountain, not far from the city, and subsisted on what men gave them. The brothers spent all their time in work. They did not work on their own work, but on work for the poor. Wherever there were people worn out by work, wher- ever they were ill, or orphans or widows, there the brothers would go, and there they would work, and on their departure take no pay. Thus the brothers spent a whole week at a time, and met at their dwell- ing. Only on Sunday they staid at home, prayed and talked. And the angel of the Lord came to them and blessed them. On Monday they parted, each his own way. Thus the brothers lived many summers ; and every week the angel of the Lord came to them, and blessed them. One Monday, when the brothers were going out to work, and had already started down different sides, the elder, Afandsi, began to feel sorry to part from his beloved brother ; and he halted, and looked back. TEXTS FOR WOOD-CUTS. 185 Yoann was walking on his way, with head bent, and not looking up. But suddenly Yoann also stopped, and, as though he saw something, began to gaze back intently, shading his eyes with his hand. Then he approached what he was looking at : then suddenly he leaped to one side, and, without looking round, ran to the base of the mountain, and up the mountain, away from that place, as though a wild beast were pursuing him. Afandsi was surprised, and turned back to the place to see what had scared his brother so. * As he approached nearer, he saw something glisten- ing in the sun. He came still nearer. On the grass, as though thrown out from a measure, is lying a heap of gold. And Afanasi was still more astonished, both at the gold, and at his brother's flight. "What scared him? and why did he run away?'* asked AfanAsi of himself. '* There is no sin in gold: sin is in man. Gold can do no harm : it may do good. How many widows and orphans this gold can nourish ! how many naked it can clad ! how many poor and sick it can heal ! We are now serving-men ; but our ser- vice is small, just as our strength is small. But with this gold, we can be of better service to people." Thus reasoned Afandsi, and he wanted to tell all this to his brother ; but Yoann was already gone out of hear- ing, and could only be seen now hke a little beetle on the other mountain. And Afandsi took off his coat, filled it with as much gold as he had strength to lug, put it on his shoulder, and carried it to the city. He came to a hotel, depos- ited the gold with the hotel-keeper, and went for the rest of it. 186 TEXTS FOR WOOD -CUTS. And when he had got all the gold, he went to the merchpnts, bought land in the city, bought bricks and lumber, engaged laborers, and began to build three houses. And Afandsi lived in the city three months. He built in the city three houses, — one house, an asylum for widows and orphans ; the second house, a hospital for the sick and poverty-stricken ; the third house, for pilgrims ^ and beggars. And Afanasi found three pious old men ; and one of th&m he placed over the asylum, the other over the hospital, and the third over the pilgrims' home. And still Afandsi had left three thousand gold-pieces. And he gave to each of the old men a thousand to dis- tribute among the poor. And all three of the houses began to fill with people, and men began to praise AfanAsi for all that he had done. And Afandsi was so delighted at this, that he did not care to leave the city. But Afandsi loved his brother ; and having said good-by to the people, and not leaving himself any money at all, and wearing the very same old clothes in which he had come, he went back to his house. Afanasi is climbing down his mountain, and think- iiig^ — " My brother reasoned wrong when he jumped away from the gold and fled. Haven't I done better? " And this thought had scarcely occurred to Afanasi, when suddenly he sees standing right in his path, the same angel who had blessed them : he looks sternly at him. And Afandsi was stupefied, and could only say, — "What is it, Lord?" 1 Strdnniki. TEXTS FOR WOOD-CUTS. 187 And the angel opened his lips, and said, — *'Get thee hence! Thou art unworthy to live with thy brother. Thy brother's one leap is worth more than all those things that thou hast done with thy gold." And Afandsi began to tell how many poor and wan- derers he had fed, how many orphans he had cared for. And the angel said to him, — " The Devil, who put down the gold to seduce thee, also taught thee these words." And then Afandsi felt the prick of conscience, and understood that he had not done these deeds for God's sake ; and he burst into tears, and began to repent. Then the angel stepped out of the road, and allowed him to pass; and there stood Yoann, waiting for his brother. And from that time Afandsi did not give in to the temptation of the Devil that had scattered the gold ; and he learned that God and men can be served, not by gold, but only by deeds. And the brothers began to live as before. ILYAS. There lived in the government of Ufa a Bashkir, Ilyds. Ilyds was left poor by his father. His father got him a wife, and the next year died. At that time llyds's possessions consisted of seven mares, two cows, and a score of sheep : but Ilyds was a good manager,^ and he began to gain ; from morning till night he and his wife worked ; he got up earlier than any one else, and went to bed later than any one else, and each year he kept getting richer. Thus Ilyds toiled for thirty-five years, and he made a great fortune. Ilyds had two hundred head of horse, a hundred and 1 Khozy Sherbd, or shcherbd. TEXTS FOR WOOD-CUTS. 189 Ilyas began to fall lower and lower. And his strength was less than it had been. And at the age of seventy years, Ilyds had come to snch a pass that he began to sell out his furs, his carpets, saddles, tip- carts,^ and then he began to dispose of his last cattle, and Ilyas came to nothing. He himself did not realize how he had nothing left ; but he and his wife were obliged, in their old age, to hire out as servants. All Ilyas's possessions consisted of the clothes on his body, his shuba, a hat, shoes, and slippers — yes, and his wife, Sham-Shemagi, now an old woman. His banished son had gone to a far-off land, and his daughter died. And then there was no one to help the old people. Their neighbor, Muhamedshah, felt sorry for the old people. Muhamedshah himself was neither poor nor rich, but lived in medium circumstances ; and he was a good man. He remembered Ilyas's hospitality,^ and pitied him, and said to Ilyds, — " Come, Ilyds," saj's he, " and live with me — you and your old woman. In summer 3'ou can work for me in the garden, and in winter take care of the cattle ; and Sham-Shemagi may milk the mares, and make kumj's. I will feed and clothe you both : and what- ever you need, tell me ; I will give it." Ilyas thanked his neighbor, and he and his wife be- gan to live with Muhamedshah as servants. At first it came hard to them, but afterwards they got used to it ; and the old people began to live, and work as much as their strength permitted. The khozyd'in found it profitable to keep such people, because they had been masters^ themselves, and knew 1 Kibitki. « Khlyib-col; literally, bread-salt. » Khozydeva, 190 TEXTS FOR WOOD-CUTS. how to keep things orderly, and were not lazy, and worked according to their strength : only Muhamedshah felt sorry to see how people of such high station should have fallen to such a low condition. Once it came to pass, that some guests, distant kinsmen, came to visit Muhamedshah : a Mulla came with them. Muhamedshah gave orders to have a ram caught and killed. Ilyas dressed the ram, cooked it, and served it to the guests. The guests ate the mutton, drank some tea, and took some kumys. While the guests are sitting with the khozyiiin on down-pillows, on carpets, are drinking kumys out of cups, and chatting, Ilyas had finished his chores, and was passing in front of the door. Muhamedshah saw him, and asked a guest, — " Did you see that old man who went by the door?" "I saw him," says the guest; "but what is there wonderful in him? " '' This is remarkable, — he was once our richest man. His name is Ilyds : maybe you have heard of him? " *' Certainly I have," says the guest. " I never saw him before, but his fame has been wide-spread." " Now he has nothing at all left, and he lives out at service with me : he and his old woman milk the cows.'*' The guest was amazed ; snapped his tongue, shook his head, and says, — "Yes, this shows how fortune turns round like a wheel : he who is on top gets to the bottom. Well, I suppose the old man feels pretty bad about it? " " Who can tell about him? He lives quietl}', peace- fully ; works well." The guest says, " Can I have a talk with him? I should like to ask him about his life." TEXTS FOR WOOD-CUTS. 191 " Well,^ you can," sa3'S the khozydi'n, and shouts toward the tip-cart,^ ''Babui (means little grand- father^ in Bashkhian), come in; bring some kumys, and call your old woman." And llyas came with his wife. Ilyas greeted the guests and his master, repeated a prayer, and squatted down by the door. But his wife went behind the cur- tain, and sat with her mistress.* Ilyas was given a cup of kumys. Ilyds wished the health. of the guests and of his master, bowed, sipped a little, and set it down. *' Well, dyedushka," says the guest, " I suppose 3'ou feel rather blue looking at us, to remember your past life, — how you used to be in luck, and how now your life is spent in sorrow? " And 11yds smiled, and said, " If I told you about my fortune and misfortune, you would not believe me. Better ask my baba. She is a baba, — what's in her heart's on her tongue also. She will tell you the whole truth about this matter." And the host called to the curtain, *'Well, now,^ bdbushka, tell us what you think about your former luck, and your present misfortune." And Sham-Shemagi spoke from behind the cur- tain : — " This is what I think about it : My old man and I have lived fiftj' years. We sought for happiness, and did not find it ; and now here it is two years since we lost every thing, and have been living out at service ; and we have found real happiness, and ask for nothing better." The guests were amazed ; and the khozydin was amazed, and even rose from his seat, lifted the curtain 1 Chto-zh. 2 Eibitka. ^ DyMuahka. * Khozyaika. ^ Nu, chto-gh. 192 TEXTS FOR WOOD-CUTS. to look at the old woman ; and the old woman is standi ing, with folded arms. She smiles as she looks at her old man, and the old man smiles back. The old wo- man went on, "I am speaking the truth, not jesting. We sought for happiness for half a centur}^ and as long as we were rich we did not find it ; but now that we have notliing left, and have to go out to service, we have found such happiness that we ask for nothing better." " But wherein consists your happiness now? " '^ Well, in this : while we were rich, my old man and I never had an hour's rest. We never had time to talk, nor to think about our souls, nor to pray to God. There was nothing for ns but care. When we had guests, it was a bother how to treat them, what to give them, so that they might not talk ill about us. Then, when guests went away, we had to look after our work- people : they must have rest, they must have enough to eat, and we must see to it that nothing that is ours gets lost. So we sinned. Then, again, care lest the wolf should kill a colt or a calf, or lest thieves should drive off our horses. You lay down to sleep, you can't sleep for fear the sheep trample the lambs. You go out, you walk in the night : you just get yourself calmed down — again, care how to get food for the winter. Besides this, my old man and I never agreed. He says we must do so, and I say we must do so ; and we begin to quarrel, we sin. So we lived in worry and care, in worry and care, and never knew the happiness of life." "Well, and now?" " Now when my old man and I get up in the morn- ing, we always have a talk, in love and sj^mpathy ; we have nothing to quarrel about, nothing to worry about ; TEXTS FOR WOOD-CUTS. 193 our only care is to serve our kboz3^ain. We work according to our strength, we work willingly, so that our khozyain may not lose, but gain. When we come in, we have dinner, we have supper, we have kumj^s. If it is cold, we have our kizydk^ to warm us, and a sheepskin shuba. And we have time to talk and think about our souls, and to pray to God. For fifty years we sought for happiness, aud only now we have found it!" The guests began to laugh. But Ilyds said, — '^ Don't laugh, brothers : this thing is no jest, but human life. And the old woman and I were foolish when we wept over the loss of our property, but now God has revealed the truth to us ; and it is not for our own consolation, but for your good, that we reveal it to you.'* And the MuUa said, "This is a wise "saying, and Ilyds has told the exact truth ; and this is written also in the Scriptures." And the guests ceased laughing, and were lost in tliought. > Mzydk, or tizydk, a Tatar word, meauiug a brick made of dried dung. THE THEEE MENDICxiNTS. 1886. " But when ye pmy, use not vain repetitions, as the heathen do : for they think that they shall be heard for their much spealiing. Be not ye therefore lilie unto thenar for your Father Knoweth what things ye have need of, before ye ask him." — Matt. vi. 6, 7. A BiSFiop set sail in a ship from the city of Arch- angel to Solovkl.^ In the same ship sailed some pil- grims to the saints. The wind was favorable, the weather clear, the sea was not rough. The pilgrims, as they were lying down, as they were lunching, as they were sitting in a crowd, conversed together. The bishop came on deck, began to walk up and down on the bridge. As he approaches the bow, he sees the people crowded together. A little muzliik is point- ing his hand at something in the sea, and talking ; and the people are listening. The bishop stood still, and looked in the direction that the muzliitclidk was pointing: nothing is to be seen, except the sea glistening in the sun. The bishop came closer, began to listen. When tlie muzliitclidk saw the bishop, he took off his cap, and stopped speaking. The people also, when they saw the bishop, took off their shapkas, and paid their respects. * The Sloveteky Monastery, at the mouth of the Dviua Biver. 194 THE THREE MENDICANTS. 195 *' Don't mind me, brothers," said the bishop. *' I have also come to listen to what you are saying, my good friend.'* ' ''This fisherman was telling us about some mendi- cants,"^ said a merchant, taking courage. ''What about the mendicants ?" asked the bishop, as he came to the gunwale, and sat down on a box. " Tell me too : I should like to hear. What were j^ou pointing at? " " Well, then, 2 yonder's the little island just heaving in sight," said the little peasant; and he pointed toward the port-side. " On that very islet, three men- dicants^ live, working out their salvation.'- " Where is the little island? " asked the bishop. " Here, look along my arm, if 3'ou please. Way out there, at the left of that little cloud, you can see it." The bishop looked and looked : the water gleamed in the sun, and he could see nothing unusual. " I don't see it," says he. " What sort of mendi- cants are they who live on the little island ? ' ' "Hermits,"^ replied the peasant. "For a long time I had heard tell of 'em, but I never chanced to see them until last summer." And the fisherman again began to relate how he had been out fishing, and how he was driven to that island, and knew not where he was. In the morning he started to look around, and stumbled upon a little earthen hut ; and he found in the hut one mendicant, and then two others came in. They fed him, and dried him, and helped him repair his boat. " What sort of men were they? " asked the bishop. * StdrtHui. 2 Da vot. s Bozhi liudi, usually the term for monks. 196 THE THREE MENDICANTS. " One was rather small, humpbacked, very, very old ; he was dressed in well-worn stole ; he must have been more than a hundred years old ; his beaBd was already silvery white ; but he always had a smile ready, and he was as serene as an angel of heaven. The second was taller, also old, in a torn kaftan ; his long beard was growing a little 3^ellowish, but he was a strong man ; he turned my boat over, — a tub, — and I didn't even have to help him : he was also a jolly man. But the third was tall, with a long beard reaching to his knee, and white as the moon ; but he was gloomy ; his eyes glared out from under beetling brows ; and he was naked, all save a plaited belt." '' What did they say to you? " asked the bishop. *' They did every thing mostly without speaking, and they talked very little among themselves : one had only to look, and the other understood. I began to ask the tall one if the^^ had lived there long. He frowned, mut- tered something, grew almost angry : then the little old man instantly seized him by the hand, smiled, and the large man said nothing. . But the old man said, ' Ex- cuse us,* and smiled." While the peasant was speaking, the ship sailed nearer and nearer to the islands. *' There, now you can see plainly," said the merr chant. ''Now please look, your reverence," ^ said he, pointing. The bishop tried to look, and he barely managed to make out a black speck — the little island. The bishop gazed and gazed ; and he went from the bow to the stern, and he approached the helmsman. " AVhat is that little island," says he, " that you see over yonder?" 1 Vashe preoavyashchinstvo. THE THREE MENDICANTS. 197 '' So far as I know, it hasn't any name : good many of 'em here." ''Is it true what they say, that some mendicants live there?" ''They say so, your reverence, but I don't rightly know. Fishermen, they say, have seen 'em. Still, folks talk a good deal of nonsense." "I should like to laud on the little island, and see the mendicants," said the bishop. " How can I man- age it?" " It is impossible to go there in the ship," said the helmsman. " You might do it in a boat, but you will have to ask the captain. Call the captain." " I should like to have a sight of those mendicants," said the bishop. "Is it out of the question to take me there?" The captain tried to dissuade him. "It is possible, quite possible, but we should waste much time ; and I take the liberty of assuring your rev- erence, it isn't worth your while to see them. I have heard from people that those old men live like perfect stupids ; don't understand any thing, and can't say any thing, just like some sort of sea-fish." " I wish it," said the bishop. "I will pay for the trouble, if you will take me there." There '»/a9 rotliing else to be done : the sailors arranged it ; the}' shifted sail. The helmsman put the ship about : they sailed toward the island. A chair was set for the bishop on the bow. He sat down and looked. And all tiie people gathered on the bow, all look at the little island. And those who have trust- worthy eyes, already see rocks on the island, and point out the hut. And one even saw the three mendicants. The captain got out a spy -glass, gazed through it, 198 THE THREE MENDICANTS. handed it io the bishop: "Exactly," says he, " there on the shore at the right, standing on a great rock, are three men." The bishop also looked through the glass ; he sights where it must be ; plainly the three men are standing there, — one tall, the second shorter, but the third very short. They are standing on the shore, they cling on with their hands. The captain came to the bishop : — " Here, your reverence, the ship must come to an- chor: if it suit you, you can be put ashore in a 3'awl, and we will anchor out here." Immediately they got the tackle ready, lowered the anchor, furled the sails : the vessel brought up, began to roll. They lowered a boat, the rowers manned it, and the bishop began to climb down by the companion- way. The bishop climbed down, took his seat on the thwart : the rowers lifted their oars ; they sped away to the island. They sped away like a stone from a sling : they see the three old men standing, — the tall one naked, with his plaited belt ; the shorter one in his torn kaftan ; and the little old humpbacked one, in his old stole, — all three are standiuoj there, clinffiusr on with their hands. The sailors made for shore, caught on with the boat-' hook. The bishop got out. The mendicants bowed before him ; he blessed them ; they bowed still lower. And the bishop began to speak to them : — "I heard," says he, "that you hermits were here, working out your salvation, followers of Christ ; that you worship God: and I am here by God's grace, an unworthy servant of Christ, called to be a shepherd to his flock; and so I desired also, if I might, to THE THREE MENDICANTS. 199 give instruction to you, who are the servants of God.'* The mendicants made no reply : they smiled, they exchanged glances. "Tell me how you are working out your salvation, and how 3'ou serve God," said the bishop. The middle mendicant sighed, and looked at the aged one, at the venerable one : the tall stdrets frowned, and looked at the aged one, at the venerable one. And the venerable old stdrets smiled, and said, — " Servant of God, we have not the skill to serve God : we only serve ourselves, getting something to eat." " How do you pray to God? " asked the bishop. And the venerable stdrets said, "We pray thus: ' You three, have mercy on us three.' " ^ And as soon as the venerable stdrets said this, all three of the mendicants raised their eyes to heaven, and all three said, " Trde vas, trde nas^ promilui nas! " The bishop smiled, and said, " You have heard this about the Holy Trinity, but you should not pray so. I have taken a fancy to you, men of God. I see that you desire to please God, but you know not how to serve him. You should not pray so ; but listen to me, I will teach you. I shall not teach you my own words, but shall teach j'ou from God's scriptures how God commanded all people to pray to God." And the bishop began to explain to the mendicants how God revealed himself to men. He taught them about God the Father, God the Son, and God the Holy Spirit, and said, "God the Son came upon earth to save men, and this is the waj' he taught all men to pray : listen, and repeat after me " — * Trde vas, trde nas, pomilui nasi '* 200 THE THREE MENDICANTS. And the bishop began to say, " Our Father.'* And one stdrets repeated '' Our Father^'' and then the sec- ond repeated " Our Father^'" and the third also re- peated '* Our Father,*' — " Wlio art in heaven; " and the mendicants tried to repeat, " Wlio art in heaven.'* But the middle mendicant mixed the words np ; he could not repeat them so : and the tall, naked stare ts could not repeat them ; his lips had grown together — he could not speak distinctly : and the venerable, tooth- less starets could not stammer the words intelligibly. The bishop said it a second time : the mendicants repeated it again. And the bishop sat down on a little bowlder, and the mendicants stood about him ; and they looked at his lips, and they repeated it after him until they knew it. And all that day till evening the bishop labored with them ; and ten times, and twenty times, and a hundred times, he repeated each word, and the mendicants learned it by rote. And when they got entangled, he set them right, and made them begin all over again. And the bishop did not leave the mendicants until he had taught them the whole of the Lord's Pra3'er. They repeated it after him, and then by themselves. First of all, the middle starets learned it, and he re- peated it from beginning to end ; and the bishop bade him say it again and again, and still again to repeat it ; and the others also learned the whole prayer. It was already beginning to grow dark, and the moon began to come up out of the sea, when the bishop arose to go back to the ship. The bishop said farewell to the mendicants : they all bowed very low before him. He took them, and kissed each, bade them pray as he had taught them ; and he took his seat in the boat, and returned to the ship. THE THREE MENDICANTS. 201 And while the bishop was rowed back to the ship, he heard all the time how the mendicants wers repeating the Lord's Prayer at the top of their voices. They returned to the ship, and here the voices of the mendicants was no longer heard ; but they could still see, in the light of the moon, the three old men stand- ing in the very same place on the shore, — one shorter than the rest in the middle, with the tall one on the right, and the other on the left hand. The bishop returned to the ship, climbed up on deck ; the anchor was hoisted ; the sails were spread, and bellied with wind ; the ship moved off, and they sailed a long way. The bishop came to the stern, and took a seat there, and kept looking at the little island. At first the men- dicants were to be seen ; then they were hidden from sight, and only the island was visible ; and then the island went out of sight, and only the sea was left play- ing in the moonlight. The pilgrims lay down to sleep, and all was quiet on deck. But the bishop cared not to sleep : he sat by himself in the stern, looked out over the sea in the di- rection where the island had faded from sight, and thought about the good mendicants. He thought of how they had rejoiced in what they had learned in the prayer ; and he thanked God because he had led him to the help of the hermits, in teaching them the word of God. Thus the bishop is sitting, thinking, looking at the sea in the direction where the little island lay hid- den. And his eyes are filled with the moonlight, as it dances here and there on the waves. Suddenly he sees something shining and gleaming white in the track of the moon. Is it a bird, a gull, or a 202 THE THREE MENDICANTS. boat-sail gleaming white? The bishop strains his sight. "A sail-boat," he thinks, "is chasing us. Yes, it is catching up with us very rapidly. It was far, far off, but now it is close to us. But, after all, it is not much like a sail-boat. Anyway, something is chasing us, and catching up with us.'* And the bishop cannot decide what it is, — a boat, or not a boat ; a bird, or not a bird ; a fish, or not a fish. It is like a man, but very great; and a man cannot be in the midst of the sea. The bishop got up, went to the helmsman. "Look!" says he, "what is that? what is that, brother? what is it?" says the bishop. But by this time, he himself sees. It is the mendicants running over the sea. Their gray beards gleam white, and shine ; and they draw near the ship as though it were stationary. The helmsman looked. He was scared, dropped the tiller, and cried with a loud voice, — " Lord ! the mendicants are running over the sea as though it were dry land ! " The people hear, spring up, all rush aft. All behold the mendicants running, clinging hand in hand. The end ones swing their arms : they signal to come to. All three run over the water as though it were dry land, and do not move their feet. It was not possible to bring the ship to before the mendicants overtook it, came on board, raised their heads, and said with one voice, — "We have forgotten, servant of God, we have for- gotten what thou didst teach us. While we were learn- ing it, we remembered it ; but when we ceased for an hour to repeat it, one word slipped away ; we forgot it ; THE THREE MENDICANTS. 203 the whole was lost. "We remember none of it : teach it to us again." The bishop crossed himself, bowed low to the men- dicants, and said, — " Acceptable to God is your pra3'er, ye hermits. It is not for me to teach you. Pray for us, sinners." And the bishop bowed before the feet of the mendi- cants. And the mendicants paused, turned about, and went back over the sea. And in the morning, there was something seen shining in the place where the meodicauts had come on board. POPULAR LEGENDS. 1886. HOW THE LITTLE DEVIL EARNED A CRUST OF BREAD. A POOR muzhik was going out to plough, though he had eaten no breakfast ; and he took with him, from the house, a crust of bread. The muzhik turned over his plough, unfastened the bar, put it under the bush ; and then he left his crust of bread, and covered it with his kaftan. The horse was almost dead, and the muzhik was very hungry. The muzhik turned over the plough, unhitched the horse, gave her something to eat, and went to his kaftan to get a bite for himself. The muzhik picked up his kaftan : the crust was gone. He hunted and hunted ; turned his kaftan inside out, shook it: there was no crust. The muzhik was amazed. "This is a marvellous thing,*' he thinks. " I haven't seen any one, and yet some one has carried off my crust.** But a little devil ^ had stolen the crust while the muzhik was ploughing, and had taken his seat on a shrub to listen how the muzhik would swear, and call him, the devil, by name. The muzhik was disappointed. " Well, now,^ I am not going to die of starvation. » Chortydnok. » Nu da. 201 POPULAR LEGENDS. 205 Of course, the one that took it must have needed it. Let him eat it, and be welcome." And the muzhik went to the well, got a drink of water, sighed, caught his horse, harnessed her, and began to plough again. The little devil was vexed because he had not led the muzhik into sin, and he went to tell about it to the biggest of the devils. He came to the bigger one, and told him how he had stolen the crust from the muzhik : instead of getting angry, he had said, " Be welcome." The big devil was angry. " Why," says he, "in this affair the muzhik has got the better of you : thou thy- self art to blame for it; thou wert not wise. If," says he, " muzhiks, and next to them babas, were to be caught by any such trick, it wouldn't be of any use for us to be in existence. It's no use arranging the thing that way. Go back to the muzhik," says he, " earn the crust. If within three-years' time thou dost not get the better of the muzhik, I'll give thee a bath in holy water." The little devil was alarmed ; ran back to earth, be- gan to cogitate how he might expiate his fault. He thought and thought, and he thought out a scheme. The little devil turned himself into a good man, and took service with the poor muzhik. And he advised the muzhik to sow corn during a summer-drought, in a swamp. The muzhik listened to the laborer ; sowed in the swamp. The other muzhiks had every thing burned up by the sun ; but the poor muzhik had dense, high, full-eared corn. The muzhik had enough to live on till the next year ; and even then, much corn re- mained. That year, the laborer advised the muzhik on the hill-side. And there came a rainy summer. And the 206 POPULAR LEGENDS. people had sowed their corn, and sweat over it, and the kernels don't fill out ; but the muzhik on the hill- side had a quantity of corn ripen. And the muzhik still had much more corn than he needed. And the muzhik knows not what, to do with it. And the laborer advised the muzhik to grind the corn, and distil whiskey. The muzhik distilled the whiskey ; began to drink himself, and gave others to drink. The little devil came to the big one, and began to boast that he had earned the crust. The big one went to investigate. He came to the muzhik's ; sees how the muzhik has invited the rich men, — treated them all to whiskey. The khozydika offers the whiskey to the guests. As soon as any one made a move to depart, she invited him to the table, filled a glass. The muzhik lost his temper, scolded his wife. " Look you," says he, "you devil- ish fool ! What makes you slop it so ? you are wasting such good whiskey, you bandy-legged [goose] ! ' ' The little devil poked the big one with his elbow. "Just look!" says he, and thinks how now he will not lack for crusts. The khozydin was berating his wife : he himself began to pass round the whiskey. A poor peasant came in from his work. He came in without being invited ; he sat down ; he sees the people drinking whiskey. As he was weary, he also wanted to have a taste of the whiskey. He sat and he sat ; he kept swallowing his spittle, but the khozyAin does not offer any to him. He onty muttered to himself, "Why must we furnish everybody with whiskey? " This pleased the big devil ; but the little devil brags, " Just wait a little, and see what will come of it." The rich muzhiks were drinking : the khozydin also POPULAR LEGENDS. 207 drank. They all began to fawn on each other, and flatter each other, and to tell rather buttery and scan- dalous stories. The big devil listened and listened, and he commended him for this. *'If," says he, ''such flattery can come from this drunkenness, then they will all be in our hands." ''Just wait," says the little devil, " what more will come of it. There they are going to drink one little glass more. Now, like little foxes, they wag their tails at each other ; try to deceive each other ; but just see how, in a short time, they will be acting like fierce wolves." The muzhiks drained their glasses once more, and their talk became louder and rougher. In place of buttery speeches, they began to indulge in abuse : they began to get angry, and tweak each other's nose. The khozy^in also took part in the squabble. Even him they beat unmercifully. The big devil looked on, and praised him for this also. "This," says he, " is good." But the little devil says, " Just wait ! See what more will happen. Let them take a third drink. Now they are as mad as wolves : but give them time, let them drink once more ; they will instantly act like hogs." The muzhiks drank for the third time. They began to get altogether lazy. They themselves have no idea what they stammer or shriek, and they talk all at once. They started to go home, each in his own way, or in groups of two and three. They all fall in the gutter. The khozydin went to see his guests out : he fell on his nose in a pool ; got all smeared ; lies there like a boar, — grunts. This delights the big devil still more. "Well,"i 208 POPULAR LEGENDS. says he, " this scheme of drunkenness was good. Thou hast earned thy crust. Now tell me," says he, *' how didst thou think of this scheme ? Thou must have put into it some fox's blood, in the first place ; that was what made the muzhik keen : and then some wolf's blood ; that was what made him fierce as a wolf : and finally, of course, thou didst add swine's blood ; that made him like a hog.'* *' No," says the little devil, "I did nothing of the sort. I only made it out of all that is useless in corn. This wild blood always exists in it, but has no way of getting out when the corn is properly used. At first he did not grudge his lost crust; but, as soon as he began to have a superfluity of corn, he began to scheme how he might amuse himself. And I taught him the fun, — whiskey-drinking. And as soon as he began to distil God's gift for his fun, the blood of the fox and the wolf and the hog began to show itself. Now all he needs, to be always a beast, is to keep on drinking whiskey." The chief of the devils forgave him the crust of bread, and made him one of his staff. THE REPENTANT SINNER. " And he said unto Jesus, Lord, rennember me when thou comest into thy kingdom. And Jesus said unto him, Verily I say unto thee, To day shall thou be with me in paradise." — Luke xxiii. 42, 43. Once there lived on earth a man seventy years old, and he had spent his whole life in sin. And this man fell ill, and did not make confession. And when death came, at the last hour he wept, and cried, " Lord, for- give me as thou didst the thief on the cross." He had barely spoken these words, when his soul fled. And POPULAR LEGENDS. 209 the sinner's soul loved God, and believed in his mercy, and came to the doors of paradise. And the sinner began to knock, and ask admission to the kingdom of heaven. And he heard a voice from within thcydoors, *' What manner of man knocketh at the doors of paradise? and what have been the deeds done by this man in his life?'' And the voice of the accuser replied, and rehearsed all the sinful deeds of this man. And he did not men- tion one good deed. And the voice from within the doors replied, " Sin- ners cannot enter into the kingdom of heaven. Get thee hence! " And the man said, " Lord, I hear thy voice ; but I see not thy face, and I know not thy name." And the voice replied, " I am Peter the Apostle." And the sinner said, "Have pity upon me, Peter Apostle ! Remember human weakness and God's mercy. Wert thou not one of Christ's disciples? and didst thou not hear from his very lips his teaching? and hast thou not seen the example of his life ? And remember, when he was in sorrow, and his soul was cast down, and thrice he asked thee to watch with him and pray, and thou didst sleep, for thy eyes were heavy, and thrice he found thee sleeping. So it was with me. "And remember, also, how thou didst promise him not to deny him till death, and how thrice thou didst deny him when they took him before Caiaphas. So it was with me. " And remember, also, how the cock crew, and thou didst go out and weep bitterly. So it is with me. It is impossible for thee not to forgive me." 210 POPULAR LEGENDS. And the voice from within the doors of paradise was silent. And, after waiting, the sinner began again to knock, and to demand entrance into the kingdom of heaven. And a second voice was heard within the doors ; and it said, "Who is this man, and how did he live on earth?" And the voice of the accuser again rehearsed all the sinner's evil deeds, and mentioned no good deeds. And the voice from within the doors replied, " Get thee gone ! sinners like thee cannot live with us in paradise." And the sinner said, " Lord, I hear thy voice ; but I see not thy face, and I know not thy name." And the voice replied, " I am David, the king and prophet. ' ' And the sinner did not despair, did not depart from the doors of paradise, but began to say, " Have mercy upon me, tsar David, and remember human weakness and God's mercy. God loved thee, and magnified thee before the people. Thou hadst every thing, — a kingdom and glory and wealth, and wives and children ; and yet thou didst see from thy roof a poor man's wife ; and sin came upon thee, and thou didst take Uriah's wife, and thou didst kill him by the sword of the Am- monites. Thou, a rich man, didst take the poor man's lamb, and kill the man himself. This was exactly what I did. " And remember next how thou didst repent, and say, ' I acknowledge my sin, and am grieved because of my transgressions.' So did I also. It is impos- sible for thee not to forgive me." And the voice within the doors was silent. And after waiting a little, yet again the sinner POPULAR LEGENDS. 211 knocked, and demanded entrance into the kingdom of heaven. And a third voice was heard from behind the doors ; and it said, '' Get thee gone ! Sinners cannot enter into the kingdom of heaven.'* And the sinner replied, " I hear thy voice ; but thy face I see not, and thy name I know not." And the voice replied, " I am John the theologian, the beloved disciple of Christ." And the sinner rejoiced, and said, *' Now I must surel}' be forgiven : Peter and David would admit me because they know human weakness and God's mercy. But thou admittest me because thou hast much love. Hast thou not written, John the theologian, in thy book, that God is love, and that whoever doth not love knoweth not God? And didst thou not in thy old age constantly say one single word to people, — 'Brothers, love one another'? How, then, canst thou hate me and reject me? Either deny thy saying, or show love unto me, and let me into the kingdom of heaven." And the gates of paradise opened ; and John re- ceived the repentant sinner, and let him come into the kingdom of heaven. A SEED AS BIG AS A HEN'S EGG. Some children once found in a cave something re- sembling a hen's Q^g^ with a groove about the middle, and like a seed. A passer-by saw the children playing with it, bought it for a p'yatdk,^ took it to the city, and gave it to the tsar as a curiosity. The tsar summoned his wise men, commanded them to decide what kind of a thing it was, — an egg, or a 1 A copper piece worth five kopeks. 212 POPULAR LEGENDS. seed ? The wise men cogitated, cogitated — they could not give an answer. This thing was lying in the win- dow ; and a hen flew in, began to peck at it, and pecked a hole in it ; and all knew that it was a seed. The wise men went to the tsar, and said, " This is — a rye-seed." The tsar marvelled. He commanded the wise men to find out where and when this seed grew. The wise men cogitated, cogitated : they hunted in books — they found no explanation. They came to the tsar: they say, *' We cannot give an answer. In our books, there is nothing written about this : we must ask the muzhiks whether some one of their elders has not heard tell of when and where such a seed is sowed.'* The tsar sent, and commanded an old stdrik ^ of a muzhik to be brought before him. They discovered an old starik, and brought him to the tsar. The green, toothless starik came in : he walked with diflSculty on two crutches. The tsar showed him the seed : but the stdrik was almost blind, as it were ; he judges of it, partly by looking at it, partly by fumbling it in his hands. The tsar began to ask him questions: ''Dost thou not know, dy^dushka, where such a seed grows? Hast thou never sowed any such kind of grain in thy field ? or didst thou never in thy life purchase any such seed? '* The stdrik was stupid : he could barely, barely hear, barely, barely understand. He began to make reply : " No," says he, "I never sowed any such grain in my field, and I never harvested any such, and I never bought any such. When we bought grain, all such seed was small. But," says he, "you must ask my bdtiush- ka : maybe he's heard tell where such seed grew." 1 Old man. POPULAR LEGENDS. 213 The tsar sent for the stdrik's father, and bade him to be brought before him. The ancient stdrik hobbled in on one crutch. The tsar began to show him the seed. The old man could still see with his eyes. He sees very well. The tsar began to question him : — " Dost thou not know, my dear old man,^ where this seed can have grown? Hast thou never sowed such grain in thy field? or didst thou never in thy life pur- chase such seed anywhere? " Though the stdrik was rather hard of hearing, still he heard better than his son. " No," says he, "I never sowed such seed in mj' field, and I never harvested any ; and I never bought any, because in my day there wasn't any money anywhere ; we all lived on grain ; and when it was necessary, we went shares with one another. I don't know where such seed is grown. Though our seed was much larger and more productive than that of nowadays, still, I never saw such as this. But I have heard from my batiushka, that, in his day, corn grew much higher than it does now, and was fuller, and had larger kernels. You must ask him." The tsar sent for this old man's father. And they brought the grandfather also. They brought him to the tsar. The starik came before the tsar without crutches : he walked easily ; his eyes were brilliant ; he heard well, and spoke understandingly. The tsar showed the seed to the old man. The old man looked at it. The old man turned it over and over. *' It is long," says he, " since I have seen such a kernel." The grandfather bit off a piece : he wanted a little more. "It's the very thing," says he. ** Tell me, dyedushka, where and when this kind of 1 Starichok. 214 POPULAR LEGENDS. seed grows ? Didst thou never sow such grain in thy field? Or didst thou never in thy life buy any such among people ? ' * And the stdrik said, '' Such grain as this used to grow everywhere in my day. On such grain as this, I have lived all my life," says he, ^' and fed vay peo- ple. This seed I have sowed and reaped, and had ground.*' And the tsar asked, saying, '' Tell me, dy^dushka, didst thou buy such seed anywhere ? or didst thou sow itin thy field?" The stdrik laughed. '' In my time," says he, *' no one bad ever conceived such a sin as to buy and sell grain. And they did not know about money. There was abundance of bread for all." And the tsar asked, saying, '' Tell me, dy^dushka, when didst thou sow such grain, and where was thy field?" And the grandfather said, '* My field was — God's earth. Wherever there was tillage, there was my field. The earth was free. There was no such thing as private ownership. They only laid claim to their work." *' Tell me," says the tsar, — 'Hell me two things' more : one thing. Why did such seed used to spring up, and now doesn't? And the second thing, Why does thy grandson walk on two crutches, and thy son on one crutch, but here thou goest with perfect ease — and thy eyes are bright, and thy teeth strong, and thy speech plain and clear? Tell me, dyedushka, why these things are so? " And the stdrik said, " These two things both came about because men have ceased to live by their own POPULAR LEGENDS. 215 work — and thej have begun to hanker after foreign things. We did not live so in old times : in old times we lived for God. We had our own, and did not lust after others'." DOES A MAN NEED MUCH LAND? An elder sister came from the city, to visit her sister in the country. The elder was a city merchant's wife ; the younger, a country muzhik's. The two sisters are tea-drinking and talking. The older sister began to boast — to praise up her life in the city : how she lives in a large and elegant mansion, and has her horses, and how she dresses her children, and what rich things she has to eat and drink, and how she goes to drive, and to walk, and to the theatre. The younger sister felt affronted, and began to de- preciate the life of a merchant, and to set forth the advantages of her own, — that of the peasant. " I wouldn't exchange my life for yours," sa3's she. " Granted that we live coarsely, still we don't know what fear is. You live more elegantl}^ ; but you have to sell a great deal, else you find yourselves entirely sold. And the proverb runs, ' Loss is Gain's bigger brother.' It also happens, to-day you're rich, but to-morrow you're a beggar.^ But our muzhiks' affairs are more reliable ; the muzhik's life is meagre, but long ; we may not be rich, but we have enough." The elder sister began to say, " Enough, — I should think so ! like pigs and calves ! No fine dresses, no good society. How your khozyai'n works ! how you live in the dung-hill ! and so you will die, and it will be the same thing with your children." » Literally, find thyself under the windows. 216 POPULAR LEGENDS. "Indeed,"^ saj^s the younger, " our affairs are all right. We live well. We truckle to no one, we stand in fear of no one. But you in the city all live in the midst of temptations : to-day it's all right ; but to-morrow up comes some improper person, I fear, to tempt you, and tempts your khozyain either to cards, or to wine, or to women. And every thing goes to ruin. Isn't it so? " Pakhom, the khozyain, was listening on the oven, as the babas disputed. " That's true," says he, " the veritable truth." As our brother from childhood had been turning up the matiushka earth, so folly [stays in] his head, and does not depart. His one trouble is, — so little land. " If I had only as much land as I wanted, I shouldn't be afraid of any one — even of the Devil.'* The babas drank their tea, talked about clothes, put away the dishes, went to bed. But the Devil was sitting behind the oven : he heard every thing. He was delighted because the peasant- woman induced her husband to boast with her : he had boasted, that, if he had land enough, the Devil could not get him ! "All right," he thinks: ''thou and I'll have to fight it out. I will give thee a lot of laud. I'll get thee through the land." II. There lived next the muzhiks a petty land-owner.^ She had one hundred and twenty desyAtins ^ of land. And she used to live peaceably with the muzhiks — did not affront them. But a retired soldier engaged him- self as her overseer,^ and he began to persecute the » A chto-eh. 2 Bdruinka, gracious lady. 8 Three hundred and twenty -four acres. * Prikdshchik. POPULAR LEGENDS. 217 muzhiks with fines. No matter how careful Pakhom was, either his horse would trample down the oats, or his cow would wander into the garden, or his calves would get into the meadows : there was a fine for every thing. Pakhom pays the fines, and scolds and beats the domestics. And during the summer Pakhom falls into many a sin on account of this prikashchik. And still he was glad that he had cattle in his dvor : though he was hard up for fodder, he was in no apprehension. During the winter, the rumor spread that the baruina was going to sell her land, and her dvornik had made arrangements to buy it at a great price. The muzhiks heard it, and groaned. "Now," think the}', "the land will belong to the dvornik : he will make us pay worse fines than the baruina did. It is impossible for us to live without this land. All of us around here live on it." The muzhiks went to the baruina in a body, began to beg her not to sell the land to the dvornik, but to let them have it. They promised to pay a higher price. The baruina agreed. The muzhiks tried to arrange as a miV, to buy all the land. Once, twice, they collected in meeting, but there was a hitch in affairs. The Devil puts them at variance : they are utterly un- able to come to any agreement. And the muzhiks determined to purchase the land individually, according to the ability of each. And the baruina agreed to this also. Pakhom heard that a neighbor had bought twenty desydtins ^ from the baruina, and that she had given him a year in which to pay her half of the money. Pakhom was envious. "They will buy all the laud," 1 Fifty-four acres. 218 POPULAR LEGENDS. he saj's to himself, "and I shall be behind them/* He began to reason with his wife. "The people are buying it up," says he. "We must bu3' ten desydtins too. It's impossible to live this way : the prikdshchik was eating us up with fines." They cogitated how to buy it. They had laid up a hundred rubles ; then they sold a colt, and half their bees; and they apprenticed their son, and ihcy got some more from their sister-in-law ; and thus they col- lected half of the money. Pakhom gathered up the money, selected fifteen des3'dtins of land with wood-land on it, and went to the baruina to make the purchase. He bought fifteen desydtins, struck a bargain, and paid down the earnest- money. They went to the city, ratified the purchase; he paid down half of the money ; the remainder he binds himself to pay in two years. And Pakhom now had his land. Pakhom took seed, and sowed the land that he had bought. In a single year he paid up the debt to the baruina and his brother- in-law. And Pakhom became a proprietor.^ He ploughed all his land, and sowed it ; he made hay on his own land ; he cut stakes on his own land, and on his own land he pastured cattle. Pakhom rides out over his wide fields to plough, or he takes note of his crops, or he gazes at his meadows. And yet he is not happy. The grass seems to him to be wasted, and the flowers flowering in it seem entirely different. Formerly he used to ride over this land, — the land as land ; but now the land began to be absolutely peculiar. * Pomyeshchik. POPULAR LEGENDS. 219 III. Thus lives Pakhom, and rejoices. All would have been good, only the muzhiks began to trespass on his grain and meadows. He begged them to refrain : they do not stop it. Now the cow-boys let the cows into the meadow : now the horses escape from the night- guard into his corn-field. And Pakhom drove them out, and forgave it, and never went to law : then he got tired of it, and tried going to the volost-court.'^ And he knows that the muzhiks do it from carelessness, and not from malice ; but he thinks, *' It is impossible to overlook it, other- wise they'll always be pasturing their cattle there. We must teach them a lesson." He thus taught them in court once ; he taught them twice : first one was fined, then another. The muzhiks, Pakhom's neighbors, began to harbor spite against him. Once more they began to trespass, and this time on purpose. Some one got into his wood-land by night. They cut down a dozen of his lindens for basts. Pa- khom went to his grove, saw [what had been done], turns pale. Some one had been there : the linden- branches lie scattered about, the stumps stand out. Out of the clump he had cut down the last, the rascal had cleaned it all out : only one was left standing. Pakhom fell into a rage. *' Akh ! " thinks he, " if I only knew who did that, I would give him a kneading." He thought, he thought, " Who [could it be] ? " '' No one more likely," thinks he, " than Semyon." He went to Semka's dvor ; he found nothing : the}'^ only exchanged some quarrelsome words. And Pa- khom felt still more certain that Semyon had done it. > The voloet is a district iucluding several villageB, 220 POPULAR LEGENDS. He entered a complaint. They took it into court. They had suit after suit. The muzhik was acquitted : no proof. Pakhom was still more affronted : he got incensed at the starshind and at the judges. ''You," sa3'S he, "are on the side of a pack of thieves. If you were decent men, you wouldn't acquit thieves.'* Pakhom quarrelled, both with the judges and with his neighbors. They began even to threaten him with the ''red rooster."^ Pakhom had come to live on a broader scale on his farm, but with more constraint in the commune. And about this time the rumor spread, that the peo- ple were going to new places. And Pakhom thinks, ' ' There is no reason for me to go from my land ; but If any of our [neighbors] should go, it would enable me to branch out more. I would take their land for myself ; I would get it around here : life would be much better, for now it is too confined." Pakhom is sitting at home one time: a wandering, muzhik comes along. They let the muzhik have a night's lodging ; they give him something to eat ; the}' enter into conversation: "Whither, please, is God taking you ? ' ' The muzhik says that he is on his way down from the Volga, where he had been at work. The muzhik relates, a word at a time, how the people had gone colonizing there. He relates how thej' settled there, made a community, and gave each soul ten desydtins of land. "But the land is such," sa3-s he, "that they sowed rye. Such stalks — the horses never saw the like — so thick ! five handfuls made a sheaf. One muzhik," says he, "was perfectly poor — came with * The picturesque Russian metaphor for a conflagration. POPULAR LEGENDS. 221 his hands alone — and now he has six horses and two cows." Pakhom's heart burned within him : he thinks, " Why remain here in straitened circumstances, when it is possible to live well? I will sell my land and dvor here ; then with the money that I get, I will start anew, and have a complete establishment. But here in these narrow quarters — it's a sin. Only I must find out for myself." He packed up for a year; started. From Samara he sailed down the Volga- in a steamboat, then he went on foot four hundred versts. He reached the place. It was just so. The muzhiks live on a generous scale, ^ on farms of ten desydtins each, and they are glad of accessions to tlieir society. "And if any one has a little money, you can buy for three rubles as much of the ver}' best land as you wish, besides his allotment. You can buy just as much as you wish." Pakhom made his investigations ; in the autumn re- turned home, began to sell out every thing. He sold his land to advantage, sold his dvor, sold all his cattle, withdrew his name from the Community, waited till spring, and moved with his family to the new place. IV. Pakhom came with his family to the new place, en- rolled himself in a large village. He treated the elders,^ arranged all the pai)ers. Pakhom was ac- cepted : he was allotted, as for five persons, fifty des- ydtins^ of the land to be distributed, located in different fields, all except the pasturage. Pakhom settled down. He got cattle. He had three times as much land as * Proslornn, roomily. * Sturiki. 8 Que hundred and thirty-five acres. 222 POPULAR LEGENDS. he had had before, and the land was fertile. Life was tenfold better than what it had been in the old time ; had all the arable land and fodder that he needed. Keep as many cattle as you like. At first, while he was getting settled, and putting his house in order, Pakhom was well pleased, got to feel at home ; then it seemed rather narrow quarters. The first year Pakhom sowed wheat on one allotment : it came up well. He was anxious to sow wheat ; but he had little land for the purpose, and such as he has is of no good. Wheat is sowed there on grass or fallow land. They sow it one year, two years, and let it lie fallow till the grass comes up again. And in such land, there are man}' sportsmen ; but they don't bag game on all. Quarrels also arose ; one was richer than another : they all wanted to sow, but the poorer ones had to resort to merchants for loans. Pakhom was anxious to sow as much as possible. The next year he went to a merchant : he hired land for a year. He sowed more : it came up well. It was a long way from the village : he had to go fifteen versts. He sees how muzhik-merchants live in fine mansions, and are rich. "That's the thing," thinks Pakhom. *' If only I could buy the land, then I would have a mansion. It would all be in one piece." And Pakhom began to cogitate how he might get a perpetual title. Thus Pakhom lived three years. He hired land, sowed wheat. The years were good ones, and the wheat grew well, and a store of money was laid away. As life passed, it became every year irksome to Pakhom to buy land with the men, to waste time over it. Where an estate is pretty good, the muzhiks POPULAR LEGENDS. 223 instantly fly to it, divide it all up. He was alwa3's too late to buy cheap, and he had nothing to sow on. But in the third year, he bought, on shares with a mer- chant, a pasturage of the muzhiks ; and they had already ploughed it. The muzhiks had been at law about it, and so the work was lost. *' If I owned the land," he thinks, "I should not truckle to any one; and it would not be a sin." And Pakhom began to inquire where he might buy land in perpetuity. And he struck upon a muzhik. The muzhik had for sale five hundred desyatins ; ^ and, as he was anxious to get rid of it, he sells at a bargain. Pakhom began to dicker with him. He argues, argues. He agrees to sell for fifteen hundred rubles, half the money on mortgage. They had already come to an agreement, when a pedler happens along, and asks Pakhom to let him have a little something to eat. They drank a cup of tea ; they entered into conver- sation. The pedler relates that he is on his way from the distant Bashkirs. "There," says he, "I bought of the Bashkirs fifteen hundred desydtins of land ; and I had to pay only a thousand rubles." Pakhom began to ask questions. The pedler told him [the whole story]. '' All I did," saj^s he, " was to satisfy the old men. I distributed some dressing-gowns and carpets, worth a hundred rubles, besides a chest of tea; and I gave a little wine to those who drank. And I got it for twenty kopeks a desydtin." — He exhibited the title- deed. — "The land," says he, "is by a little river, and the steppe is all covered with grass." 1 Thirteen hundred and fifty acres. 224 POPULAR LEGENDS. Pakhom began to ask more questions, — How and who? "The land," says the merchant, — " you wouldn't go round it in a year, — it's all Bashkirian. And the people are as stupid as rams. You could almost get it for nothing." "Now," thinks Pakhom, " why should I spend my thousand rubles for five hundred desydtins, and hang a burden of debt around my neck beside? But there, how much I could get for a thousand rubles ! " V. Pakhom asked how he went ; and, as soon as he said good-by to the pedler, he determined to go. He left his house in his wife's care, took his man, and started. When they reached the city, he bought a chest of tea, gifts, wine, just as the merchant said. They trav- elled, travelled: they travelled five hundred versts^ away. On the seventh da}' they came to the range of the Bashkirs. It was all just as the merchant had said. They all live in the steppe, along a little river, in felt-covered kibltki. They themselves do not plough : they eat no bread. And their cattle graze along the steppe, and their horses are in droves. Be- hind the kibitki the colts are tied, and twice a day they bring the mares to them. The}' milk the mares, and make kumys out of the milk. The Imbas churn the kumys, and make cheese ; and the muzhiks only know how to drink kumj's and tea, to eat mutton, and play on the dudki.^ All are polite, jolly : they keep festival all summer. The people are very dark, and can't speak Russian, but are affable. As soon as the Bashkirs saw Pakhom, they came 1 Three hundred and thirty milea. * Reed-pipes. POPULAR LEGENDS. 225 forth from their kibitki : they surrounded their guest.. The interpreter made his acquaintance. Pakhom told him that he had come to see about land. The Bashkirs were delighted, took him to a fine kibltka, spread rugs, gave him a down-cushion to sit on, sat round him, began to treat him to tea, kumys. They slaughtered a ram, and gave him mutton. Pakhom fetched from his tarantds his gifts, began to distribute them among the Bashkirs. Pakhom gave the Bashkirs his gifts, and divided the tea. The Bashkirs were overjoyed. They jabbered, jabbered together, then commanded the interpreter to speak. '' They bid me tell thee," says the interpreter, *'that they have taken a fancy to thee; and that we have a custom of doing every thing possible to gratify a guest, and repay him for his gifts. Thou hast given to us. Now tell what thou wis best among our posses- sions, in order that we may give it thee." "Above all else that you have," says Pakhom, ''I would like some of your land. In my country," says he, " there is a scarcity of land. The land is cultivated to death. But 3'ou have much land, and good land. I never saw the like." The interpreter translated for him. The Bashkirs talked, talked. Pakhom understands not what they say ; but he sees that they are good-natured, that they are talking at the top of their voices, laughing. Then they relapsed into silence, look at Pakhom ; and the interpreter says, — *' They bid me tell thee, that, in return for thy kind- ness, they are happy to give thee as much land as thou wisliest. Only show us thy hand — it shall be thine." They still were talkmg, and began to dispute angrily. 226 POPULAR LEGENDS. And Pakhom asked what they were quarrelling aoout. And the interpreter replied, " Some say that they ought to ask the starshina, and that without his con- sent it is impossible. And others say that it can be done without the chief." VI.. The Bashkirs are quarrelling : suddenly a man comes in a fox-skin shapka. They become silent, and all stood up. And the in- terpreter says, "This is the starshind himself." Instantly Pakhom got out his best dressing-gown, and gave it to the starshind, together with five pounds of tea. The starshind accepted it, and sat down in the chief place. And immediately the Bashkirs began to tell him all about it. The starshind listened, listened ; nodded his head, in sign of silence for all, and began to speak to Pakhom in Russian.^ " Well," says he, " it can be done. Take it when you please. Plenty of land." '' I shall get as much as I want," thinks Pakhom. '* I must secure it right away, else they'll say it's mine, and then take it away.'* "1 thank you," says he, ''for your kind words. I have seen that you have much land, and I need not very much. Only you must let me know what shall be mine. As soon as possible you must have it measured off and secured to me. And it must be as real estate. You good people make the grant, but the time may come when your children will take it away." "You are right," says the starshind: "we must secure it." » PoRuaski. POPULAR LEGENDS. 227 Pakhom began to speak : " I have heard that a mer- chant was here with you. You also gave him land, and struck a bargain. I should like to do the same." The starshiua understood perfectly. ''This can all be done," says he. "We have a clerk ; and we will go to the city, and will all put on our seals." *' And the price will be, how much? " asks Pakhom. *' We have one price : one thousand rubles^ a (Vyen.'* Pakhom did not understand. " What is this meas- ure, the d'y^n? How many desy^tins are there in it?" "We can't reckon it," says he. "But we sell it bj' the d'y^n : ^ all that 3'ou can go round in a day, — that is yours ; and the price of a d'y^n is one thousand rubles." Pakhom was astonished: "Look here," says he. "What I can go round in a day is a good deal of land!" The starshind laughed. " It's all yours," says he. "Only one stipulation : if you don't come back within the day to the place from which you start, your money is lost." " But how," says Pakhom, " can I mark when I am going?" " Well, we'll stand on the place where it pleases you ; we will be standing there : and you shall go and draw the circle, and take with j^ou a hoe, and make a mark wherever you please ; at the edges dig a little hole, put some turf in it : and we will go over it, from hole to hole, with the plough. Take whatever you wish for a circuit, only at sunset you must be back at that place from which you set out. All that you encircle is yours. ' * 1 Eight hundred and sisty dollars. * Day. 228 POPULAR LEGENDS. Pakliom was delighted. They agreed to go out all together. The}' talked it over, drank still more kumjs, ate the mutton, drank some more tea. It approached nightfall. The Bashkirs arranged for Pakhom to sleep in a down-bed, and they separated. They agreed to come together at sunrise the next day, at the sound of the gun-shot. VII. Pakhom lies in his down-bed ; and there is no sleep- ing for him, all on account of thinking of his land. '' I will go over the whole prairie. I can go over fifty versts in one day. A day now is worth a year. There'll be a good deal of land m a circle of fifty versts. I will sell off the worst parts, or let it to the muzhiks ; and I will pick out what I like, and I will settle on it. I will have a two-ox plough, and I will take two men as laborers. I will plough in fifty desyatins, and I will pasture my cattle on the rest. ' ' Pakhom did not get a wink of sleep all night. Just before dawn he dropped into a doze. He seems to see himself lying in this very same kibitka, and listen- ing to somebod}' cackling outside. And it seemed to him that he wanted to see what was the fun ; and he got up, went out of the kibitka, and lo ! that very same Bashkirian starshind is sitting in front of the kibitka, and is holding his sides, and roaring and cackr ling about something. He went out, and asked, "What are you laughing at?" And he sees that it is no longer the starshind of the Bashkirs, but the pedler who had come to him and told him about the land. And as soon as he saw that it was the pedler, he asked, " Have you been here long? '* POPULAR LEGENDS. 229 And then it was no longer the pedler, but that muzhik who had come down the Volga so long ago. And Pakhom sees that it isn't the muzhik either, but the Devil himself, with horns and hoofs, sitting and laughing ; and before him is lying a man barefooted, in shirt and drawers. And Pakhom looked more at- tentively to find out who the man was. And he sees that the dead man is none other than — himself ! Pakhom was frightened, and woke up. He woke up. ''What was I dreaming about?" he asks himself. He looks around, he peers out of the closed door: it was already getting light, day was beginning to dawn. *-' The people must be getting up," he thinks : " it's time to start.'* Pakhom arose, aroused his man in the ta^ntds, told him to harness up, and then went to arouse the Bash- kirs. ''Time," savs he, "to go out on the steppe, to measure it off." The Bashkirs got up, all collected : and the starshind came forth. The Bashkirs again began by drinking kumys : they wished Pakhom to treat them to tea, but he was not inclined to delay. " If we go- — time to go now," sa3's he. VIII. The Bashkirs made ready ; some were on horseback, some in carts ; ^ they started. And Pakhom rode with his man in their tarantdsika, and took with him a hoe. They rode out into the steppe : the dawn was beginning. They reached a mound — shikhan in 1 Tarantdsui. 230 POPULAR LEGENDS. Bashkirian. They descended from tlieir carts, dis- mouDted from their horses, collected in a crowd. The starshina came to Pakhom, pointed with his hand. "Here," says he, "all is ours, as far as you can see. Take what you desire." Pakhom 's eyes burn. The whole region is grassy, level as the palm of your hand, black as a pot ; and where there was a hollow, it was filled with grass as high as one's breast. The starshind took off his fox-skin cap,^ laid it on the ground. "Here," says he, " is the spot. Start from here, come back here. All that you go round shall be yours." Pakhom took out his money, laid it in the shapka ; took off his kaftan, stood in his blouse^ alone ; girded himself around the belly with his sash, pulled it tighter ; hung round his neck a little bag with bread, put a little flask with water in his belt, tightened his leg- wrappers, took the hoe from his man, got ready to start. He pondered and pondered on which side to take it : it was good everywhere. He thinks, " It's all one : I will go toward the sun- rise." He turned his face toward the sun ; starts, waits till it rises above the horizon. He thinks, " I must not waste any time. It's cool, and easier to walk." As soon as the sunlight gushed out over the hori- zon, he threw his hoe over his shoulder, and started out on the steppe. Pakhom proceeded neither slow nor fast. He went 1 Shapka. 2 Poddyovka, a sort of half kaftaa. POPULAR LEGENDS. 231 about a verst : ^ he halted, he dug a little pit, piled the turf in it, so that it might attract attention. He went farther. As he went on, he quickened his pace. As he kept going on, he dug other little pits. Pakhom looked around. The shikhan was still in sight in the sun, and the people are standing on it : the tires on the tarantas- wheels glisten. Pakhom conjec- tures that he has been five versts. He began to get warm : he took off his blouse, threw it over his shoulder, went on. It grew hot. He looked at the sun.^ It was already breakfast-time. **One stage over," thinks Pakhom, "and four of them make a day : it's too early to turn round. Only let me take off my boots." He sat down : he took off his boots, put them in his belt, went on. It was easy walking. He thinks, " Let me go five versts farther, then I am going to swing round to the left. This place is very good : it's too bad to give it up." The farther he went, the better it became. He still went straight ahead. He looked round — the shikhan was now scarcely visible ; and the people, like little ants, make a black spot on it ; and something barely glistens. " Well," thinks Pakhom, " I have enough in this direction : I must turn round. I am sweaty enough. — I should like a drink." He halted, dug a pit, filled it with turf, unfastened his flask, took a drink, and turned sharply to the left. He went — went — the grass was deep, and it was hot. Pakhom began to feel weary ; he looked at the sun ; he sees that it is dinner-time. '' Well," thinks he, "I must have a rest." 1 Thirty-five hundred feet. ^ Ruseiau, solnuishko, little sun. 232 POPULAR LEGENDS. Pakhom halted — sat down. He ate his bread and water, but did not try to lie down. He thinks, " If you lie down, you may fall asleep." He sat a little while ; he started on again ; he began to walk easily ; his strength was renewed by his meal, but now it began to grow very hot — yes, and the sun began to decline ; but he still keeps going. He thinks, " Endure it for an hour, and you have an age to live.'* He still went on, and it made a long distance in this direction. He still meant to turn to the left, but lo ! the hollow still continued wet. It was a pity to throw it away. He thinks, '' This day has been a good one." He still continues straight ahead. He took in the hollow — dug his pit at the hollow — turned the second corner. Pakhom gazed back in the direction of the shikhan. The heat had caused a haziness, the atmosphere was full of lines ; and through the mistiness the people on the shikhan could scarcely be seen. '^ Well," thinks Pakhom, " I have taken long sides : — I must make this one shorter." He started on the third side — he began to hasten his pace. He looked at the sun — it was already far* down the west, and on the third side he had only gone two versts ; and back to the starting-point, there were fifteen versts. "No," he thinks, "even though the estate should be uneven, I must hurry back in a straight line. It wouldn't do to take too much : besides, I have already a good deal of land." Pakhom dug his little pit in all haste, and headed straight for the shikhan. POPULAR LEGENDS. 233 IX. Pakhom goes straight to the shikhan, and now it began to be heavy work for him. He was bathed in sweat ; and his bare legs were cut and torn, and began to fail under him. He feels a desire to rest, but it is impossible : he must not stop till sunset. The sun does not delay, but sinks lower and sinks lower. " Akh ! '* he says to himself, '' can I have made a blunder? can I have taken too much? why don't you hurry along faster ? ' ' He gazes at the shikhan — it gleams in the sun : it is a long distance yet to the place, and the sun is now not far from the horizon. Still Pakhom hurries on : it is hard for him, but always he quickens his pace, quickens his pace. He walks, walks — it is still always far off. He took to the double-quick. He threw away his blouse, his boots, his flask. He threw away his shapka, but he helps himself along with his hoe. '^Akh!" he thinks, "I was too , greedy ; I have ruined the whole business ; 1 shall not get there before sunset." And his breath began to fail him all the worse be- cause of his apprehension. Pakhom runs — his shirt and drawers cling to his body by reason of sweat — his mouth is parched. In his breast a pair of black- smitli's bellows, as it were, are working ; and in his heart a mill is beating, and his legs almost break down under him. It became painful for Pakhom. He thinks, "Sup- pose I should die from the strain? '* He is afraid of dropping dead, and yet he cannot stop. *' I have only been running, but if I were to 234 POPULAR LEGENDS. Stop now, they would call me a fool." He ran, ran. He is now getting near, and he hears the Bashkirs shouting — screaming at him ; and from their screams, his heart pains him more than ever. Pakhom runs on with the last of his strength, and the sun still hovers on the horizon's edge ; it went into the haze: there was a great glow, red as blood. Now — now it is setting ! The sun is nearl}' set, but still he is not far from the place. Pakhom still sees it ; and the people on the shikhan gesticulate to him, urge him on. He sees the fox-skin shapka on the ground, even sees the money in it. And he sees the starshind sitting on the ground, his hands akimbo on his belly. And Pakhom remembered his dream. ''Much land," he thinks, "but perhaps God has not willed me to live on it. Okh ! I have ruined myself," he thinks. ''I shall not get it." Pakhom looked at the sun, but the sun had gone down under the earth : its body was already hidden, and its last segment disappears under the horizon. Pakhom exerted his last energies, threw himself forward with his body : his legs just kept him from falling. Just as Pakhom reached the shikhan, it suddenly grew dark. He saw that the sun had gone. Pakhom groaned. "I have lost my labor," he thinks. He was just about to stop ; but as he still hears the Bashkirs all screaming, he remembered that he was below them, and therefore the sun seemed to have set, although it had not set to those on top of the shikhan. Pakhom took a breath, ran up the shikhan. It was still light on the mound. Pakhom ran, sees the shapka. In front of the shapka sits the chief, and laughs, holding his sides. POPULAR LEGENDS. 235 Pakhom remembered his dream, groaned ''•Akh / " his legs gave way under him, and he fell forward, reaching out his arms toward the shapka. " Ai ! brave lad!" shouted the starshind. '*You have got a good piece of land.'* Pakhom's man ran to him, attempted to help him to his feet ; but from his mouth pours a stream of blood, and he lies dead. The Bashkirs clucked with their tongues, expressing their sorrow. Pakhom's rdbdtnik took the hoe, dug a grave for him, made it just long enough, from head to foot, — three arshins,^ — and buried him. 1 About seven feet. THE GODSON. " 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 : but whosoever shall smite thee on thy right cheek, turn to him the other also." — Matt. v. '69, 39. " Vengeance is mine; 1 will repay." — Kom. x'u. 19. A SON was born to a poor mnzhik. The muzhik was glad ; went to invite a neighbor to be one of the god- parents. The neighbor declined. People don't incline to stand as godparents to a poor muzhik. The poor muzhik went to another : this one also declined. He went through all the village : no one will stand as godparent. The muzhik went to the next village. And a passer-by happened to meet him as he was going. The passer-by stopped. '' Good-morning," says he, " muzhichok : ^ whither doth God lead you? " ''The Lord," says the muzhik, "has given me a little child, as a care during infancy, as a consolation for old age, and to pray for my soul when I am dead. But, because I am poor, no one in our village will stand as godparent. I am trying to find a godfather." And the passer-by says, " Let me stand as one of the godparents." * Little muzhik. 236 THE GODSON. 237 The muzhik was glad ; thanked the passer-by, and says, " Whom now to get for godmother? " "Well, for godmother," says the passer-by, "in- vite the store-keeper's daughter. Go into town ; on the market-place is a stone house with shops ; as you go into the house, ask the merchant to let his daughter be godmother." The muzhik had some misgivings. "How, godfather elect," says he, "can I go to a merchant, a rich man? He will scorn me: he won't let his daughter go." "That's not for you to worry about. Go ask him. Be ready to-morrow morning. I will come to the christening." The poor muzhik returned home ; went to the city, to the merchant's. He reined up his horse in the dvor. The merchant himself comes out. " What is needed? " says he. " Look here, lord merchant.^ The Lord has given me a little child, as a care during infancy, as a conso- lation for old age, and to pray for my soul when I am dead. Pray, let your daughter be his godmother." " But when is the christening? " " To-morrow morning." " Well ; very good. God be with you ! she shall come to-morrow to the mass." On the next day the godmother came ; the god- father also came : they christened the child. As soon as they had christened the child, the godfather went off, and they knew not who he was. And they did not see him from that time forth. » Da vot goapodin kupyita. 238 THE GODSON. II. The lad began to grow, to the delight of his parents ; and he was strong and industrious, and intelligent and gentle. He reached the age of ten. His parents had him taught to read and write. What others took five years to learn, this lad learned in one year. And there was nothing left for him to learn. There came one Holy Week. The lad went to his godmother, gave her the usual Easter salutation,^ re- turned home, and asks, — " Bdtiushka and mdtushka,^ where does my god- father live? I should like to go to him, to give him Easter greetings." And the father says to him, *' We know not, my dear little son, where thy godfather lives. We our- selves are sorry about it. We have not seen him since the day when he was at thy christening. And we have not heard of him, and we know not where he lives : we know not whether he is alive." The son bowed low to his father, to his mother. " Let me go, bdtiushka and mdtushka, and find my godfather. I wish to go to him and exchange Easter greetings." The father and mother let their son go. And the boy set forth to find his godfather. 1 A kiss, with the words, Khristos voskres. This custom is universal among the peasantry. The person saluted replies, Voestinu wosAre's — Risen indeed. 2 Little father and mother. THE GODSON. 239 III. The lad set forth from home, and walked along the highway. He walked half a day : a passer-by met him. The passer-by halted. " Good-afternoon, lad," says he : '' whither does God lead thee? " And the boy replied, '.' I went," saj's he, "to my dear godmother,^ to give her Easter greetings. I went back home. I asked my father and mother where my god- father lived : I wished to exchange Easter greetings with him. My father and mother said, ' We know not, little son, where thy godfather lives. From the day when he was at thy christening, he has been gone from us ; and we know nothing about him, and we know not whether he is alive.' And I had a desire to see my godfather, and so 1 am on my way to find him." And the passer-by said, "I am thj^ godfather." The malchik was delighted, exchanged Easter greet- ings with his godfather. " And where," says he, " dear godfather,^ art thou preparing to go now? If in our direction, then come to our house ; but if to thy own house, then I will go with thee." And the godfather said, — " I have not time now to go to thy house : I have business in the villages. But I shall be at home to- morrow. Then come to me." But how, bdtiushka, shall I get to thee? " 1 Mdtushka kriatnaya. * Bdtiuahka krestnui. 240 THE GODSON. "Well, then, go always toward the sunrise, always straight ahead. Thou wilt reach a forest: thou wilt see in the midst of the forest a clearing. Sit down in this clearing, rest, and notice what there may be there. Thou wilt come through the forest : thou wilt see a garden, and in the garden a palace with a golden roof. That is my house. Go up to the gates. I my- self will meet thee there." Thus said the godfather, and disappeared from his godson's eyes. THE GODSON. 241 IV. The lad went as his godfather had bidden him. He went, went: he reaches the forest. He walked into the clearing, and sees in the middle of the meadow a pine-tree, and on the pine-tree a rope fastened to a branch, and on the rope an oaken log weighing three piids.^ And under the log is a trough with honey. While the boy is pondering why the honey is put there, and why the log is hung, a crackling is heard in the forest, and he sees some bears coming, — a she- bear in advance, behind her a yearling, and then three young cubs. The she-bear stretched out her nose, and marched straight for the trough, and the young bears after her. The she-bear thrust her snout into the honey. She called her cubs : the cubs gambolled up to her, pressed up to the trough. The log swung off a little, came back, jostled the cubs. The she-bear saw it, pushed the log with her paw. The log swung off a little farther, again came back, struck in the midst of the cubs, one on the back, one on the head. The cubs began to whine, jumped away. The she- bear growled, clutched the log with both paws above her head, pushed it away from her. The log flew high. The yearling bounded up to the trough, thrust his snout into the honey, munches ; and the others began to come up again. They had not time to get there, when the log returned, struck the yearling in the head, killed him with the blow. 1 108.33 pounds. 242 THE GODSON. The she-bear growled more fiercely than before, clutches the log, and pushes it up with all her might. The log flew higher than the branch : even the rope slackened. The she-bear went to the trough, and all the cubs behind her. The log flew, flew up ; stopped, fell back. The lower it falls, the swifter it gets. It gets very swift : it flew back toward the she-bear. It strikes her a tremendous blow on the pate. The she-bear rolled over, stretched out her legs, and breathed her last. The cubs ran away. THE GODSON, 243 V. The lad was amazed, and went farther. He comes to a great garden, and in the garden a loftj^ palace with golden roof. And at the gate stands the god- father ; smiles. The godfather greeted his godson, led him through the gate, and brought him into the garden. Nevei" even in dreams had the mdlchik dreamed of such beauty and bliss as there were in this garden. The godfather led the mdlchik into the palace. The palace was still better. The godfather led the mdlchik through all the apartments. Each was better than the other, each" more festive than the other ; and he led him to a sealed door. "Seest thou this door?" says he. "There is no key to it, only a seal. It can be opened, but I forbid thee. Live and roam wherever thou pleasest, and as thou pleasest. Enjoy all these pleasures : only one thing is forbidden thee. Enter not this door. But, if thou shouldst enter, then remember what thou sawest in the forest." The godfather said this, and went. The godson was left alone, and began to live. And it was so fes- tive and joyful, that it seemed to him that he had lived there only three hours, whereas he lived there thirty years. And after thirty years had passed, the godson ^ came to the sealed door, and began to ponder. 1 Kriatnik. 244 THE GODSON. *' Why did my godfather forbid me to go into this chamber? Let me go, and see what is there.'* He gave the door a push ; the seals fell off ; the door opened. The kr^stnik entered, and sees an apartment, larger than the rest, and finer than the rest ; and in the midst of the apartment stands a golden throne. The krestnik walked, walked through the apartment, and came to the throne, mounted the steps, and sat down. He sat down, and he sees a sceptre lying by the throne. The krestnik took the sceptre into his hands. As soon as he took the" sceptre into his hands, instantly all the four walls of the apartment fell away. The krestnik gazed around him, and sees the whole world, and all that men are doing in the world. He looked straight ahead : he sees the sea, and ships sailing on it. He looked toward the right : he sees for- eign, non-Christian nations living. He looked toward the left side : there live Christians, but not Russians. He looked toward the fourth side: there live our Russians. *'Now," says he, "let me look, and see what is doing at home — if the grain is growing well." He looked toward his own field, sees the sheaves standing. He began to count the sheaves [to see] whether there would be much grain ; and he sees a telyega driving into the field, and a muzhik sitting in it. The krestnik thought that it was his sire come by night to gather his sheaves. He looks : it is the thief, Vasili Kudridshof , coming. He went to the sheaves, began to lay hands upon them. The krestnik was provoked. He cried, " Batiusbka, they are stealing sheaves in the field ! " THE GODSON. 245^ His father woke in the night. "I dreamed," says he, " that they were stealing sheaves. I am going to see." He mounted his horse : he rode off. He comes to the field ; he sees Vaslli ; he sliouted to the muzhiks. Vasili was beaten. They took him, carried him off to jail. The krestnik looked at the city where his godmother used to live. He sees that she is married to a mer- chant. And she is in bed, asleep ; but her husband is up, has gone to his mistress. The krestnik shouted to the merchant's wife,^ '' Get up ! thy husband is engaged in bad business." The godmother jumped out of bed, dressed herself, found where her husband was, upbraided him, beat the mistress, and drove her husband from her. Once more the krestnik looked toward his mother, and sees that she is lying down in the izbd, and a robber is sneaking in, and begins to break open the chests. His mother awoke, and screamed. The robber noticed it, seized an axe, brandished it over the mother, was about to kill her. The krestnik could not restrain himself, lets fly the sceptre at the robber, strikes him straight in the temple, killed him on the spot. 1 Kupchikha. 246 THE GODSON. VI. The instant the kr^stnik killed the robber, the walls closed again, the apartment became what it was. The door opened, the godfather entered. The god- father came to his son, took him by the hand, drew him from the throne, and says, — '' Thou hast not obeyed my command : one evil deed thou hast done, — thou openedst the sealed door ; a sec- ond evil deed thou hast done, — thou hast mounted the throne, and taken my sceptre into thy hand ; a third evil deed thou hast done, — thou hast added much to the wickedness in the world. If thou hadst sat there an hour longer, thou wouldst have ruined half of the people." And again the godfather led his son to the throne, took the sceptre in his hands. And again the wails were removed, and all things became visible. And the godfather said, — " Look now at what thou hast done to thy father. Vasili has now been in jail a year ; he has learned all the evil that there is ; he has become perfectly des- perate. Look I now he has stolen two of thy father's horses, and thou seest how he sets fire to the dvor. This is what thou hast done to thy father. ' ' As soon as the kr^stnik saw that his father's house was on fire, his godfather shut it from him, commanded him to look on the other side. "Here," says he, ''it has been a year since thy THE GOD§ON. 247 godmother's husband deserted his wife ; he gads about with others, all astray : and she, out of grief, has taken to drink ; and his former mistress has gone wholly to the bad. This is what thou hast done to thy god- mother." The godfather also hid this, pointed to his house. And he saw his mother : she is weeping over her sins ; she repents, says, " Better had it been for the robber to have killed me, for then I should not have fallen into such sins." " This is what thou hast done to thy mother." The godfather hid this also, and pointed down. And the kr^stnik saw the robber : two guards hold the rob- ber before the prison. And the godfather said, " This man has taken nine lives. He ought himself to have atoned for his sins. But thou hast killed him : thou hast taken all his sins upon thyself. This is what thou hast done unto thy- self. The she-bear pushed the log once, it disturbed her cubs ; she pushed it a second time, it killed her yearling ; but the third time that she pushed it, it killed herself. So has it been with thee. I give thee now thirty years' grace. Go out into the world, atone for the robber's sins. If thou dost not atone for them, thou must go in his place." And the kr^stnik said, "How shall I atone for his sins?" And the godfather said, '' When thou hast undone as much evil as thou hast done in the world, then thou wilt have atoned for thy sins, and the sins of the robber." And the kr^stnik asked, ''How undo the evil that is in the world? " The godfather said, "Go straight toward the sun- 248 THE GODSON. rise. Thoii wilt reach a field, men in it. Notice what the men are doing, and teach them what thou knowest. Then go farther, notice what thou seest: thou wilt come on the fourth day to a forest ; in the forest is a cell, in the cell lives a mendicant ;^ tell him all that has taken place. He will instruct thee. When thou hast done all that the mendicant commands thee, then thou wilt have atoned for thy sins, and the sins of the robber." Thus spoke the godfather, and let the kr^stnik out of the gate. 1 SUlreta. THE GODSON. 249 VII. The kr^stnik went on his way. He walks, and thinks, '' How can I undo evil in the world? Is evil destroyed in the world by banishing men into banish- ment, by putting them in prison, by executing them ? How can I go to work to destroy evil, to say nothing of taking on one the sins of others? " The kr^stnik thought, thought, could not think it out. He went, went : he comes to a field. In the field the grain has come up good and thick, and it is harvest- time. The kr^stnik sees that a little heifer has stra3'ed into this grain, and the men have mounted their horses, and are hunting the little heifer through the grain, from one side to the other. Just as soon as the little heifer tries to escape from the grain, some one would ride up : the little heifer would be frightened back into the grain again. And again they gallop after it through the grain. And on one side stands a baba, weeping. " They are running my little heifer," she says. And the kr^stnik began to ask the muzhiks, " Wh}^ do you so ? All of you ride out of the grain ! Let the khozydika herself call out the heifer.'* The men obeyed. The baba went to the edge, be- gan to call, " Co', boss, co', boss." ^ The little heifer pricked up her ears, listened, listened ; ran to her mistress, thrust her nose under her skirt, 1 Tpriusi, tpriusi, hurydnochka, tpriusi, tpriusil Buryonocbka is the diminutive of a word meauing nut-brown cow. 250 THE GODSON. almost knocked her off her legs. And the muzhiks were glad, and the baba was glad, and the little heifer was glad. The krestnik went farther, and thinks, — " Now I see that evil is increased by evil. The more men chase evil, the more evil they make. It is impossible, of course, to destroy evil by evil. But how destroy it? I know not. It was good, the way the little heifer listened to its khozyaika. But suppose it hadn't listened, how would they have got it out? '* The krestnik pondered, could think of nothing, went farther. THE GODSON, 251 VIII. He went, went. He comes to a village. He asked for a night's lodging at the last izbd. The khozyai'ka consented. In the izba was no one, only the kho- zyaika, [who] is washing np. The kr^stnik went in, climbed on top of the oven, and began to watch what the khozyai'ka is doing : he sees, — the khozydika was scrubbing the izbd ; she began to rub the table, she scrubbed the table ; she contrived to wipe it with a dirty towel. She is ready to wipe off one side — but the table is not cleaned. Slreaks of dirt are left on the table from the dirty towel. She is ready to wipe it on the other side : while she destroj^s some streaks, she makes others. She begins again to rub it from end to end. Again the same. She daubs it with the dirty towel. She destroys one spot, she sticks another on. The kr^stnik watched, watched ; says, — " What is this that thou art doing, kJiozydiushJca? " '' Why, dost not see?" says she : '' I am cleaning up for Easter. But here, I can't clean my table : it's all dirty. I'm all spent." *' If thou wouldst rinse out the towel," says he, *"• then thou couldst wipe it off." The khozydika did so : she quickly cleaned off the table. '" Thank thee," says she, *' for telling me how." In the morning the kr^stnik bade good-by to the 252 THE GODSON. khozyaika, walked farther. He went, went ; came to a forest. He sees muzhiks bending hoops. The krestnik came up, sees the muzhiks ; but the hoop does not sta}- bent. The krestnik looked, sees the muzhiks' block is loose. There is no support in it. The krestnik looked on, and says, — '' What are you doing, brother? '* *' We are bending hoops ; and twice we have steamed them : we are all spent ; they will not bend." *' Well, now, brothers, just fasten your block : then you will make it stay bent. ' ' The muzhiks heeded what he said, fastened the block, and their work went in tune. The krestnik spent the night with them ; went far- ther. All day and all night he walked : about dawn he met some drovers. He lay down near them, and he sees, — the drovers have halted the cattle, and are strug- gling with a fire. They have taken dry twigs, lighted them : they did not allow them to get well started, but piled the fire with wet brush-wood. The brush-wood began to hiss : the fire went out. The drovers took more dry stuff, kindled it, again piled on the wet brush- wood. Again they put it out. They struggled long ; could not kindle the fire. And the krestnik said, "Don't be in such a hurry to' put on the brush- wood, but first start a nice little fire. When it burns up briskly, then pile on." Thus the drovers did. They started a powerful fire, laid on the brush-wood. The brush-wood caught, the pile burned. The krestnik staid a little while with them, and went farther. The krestnik pondered, pon- dered, for what purpose he had seen these three things : he could not tell. THE GODSON. 253 IX. The kr^stnik went, went. A day went by. He comes to a forest : in the forest is a cell. The kr^st- nik comes to the cell, knocks. A voice from the cell asks, — "Who is there?'* "A great sinner: I come to atone for the sins of another.** The hermit^ came forth, and asks, " What are these sins that thou bearest for another? " The kr^stnik told him all, — about his godfather, and about the she-bear and her cubs, and about the throne in the sealed apartment, and about his godfather's pro- hibition ; and how he had seen the muzhiks in the field, how they trampled down all the grain, and how the little heifer came of her own accord to her khoz- ydika. '^I understood," says he, "that it is impossible to destroy evil by evil ; but I cannot understand how to. destroy it. Teach me.'* And the hermit said, — " But tell me what more thou hast seen on thy way." The kr^stnik told him about the peasant- woman, — how she scrubbed ; and about the muzhiks, — how they made hoops ; and about the herdsmen, — how they lighted the fire. » StdreU. 254 THE GODSON, The hermit listened, returned to his cell, brought out a dull hatchet. '' Come with me," saj's he. The hermit went to a clearing away from the cell, pointed to a tree. '' Cut it down," sa3^s he. The kr^stuik cut it down : the tree fell. " Now cut it in three lengths." The krestnik cut it in three lengths. The hermit re- turned to the cell again, brought some fire. '* Burn," says he, '' these three logs." The krestnik made a fire, burns the three logs. There remained three firebrands. " Half bury them in the earth. This way." The krestnik buried them. " Thou seest the river at the foot of the mountain : bring hither water in thy mouth, water them. Water this firebrand just as thou didst teach the baba ; water this one as thou didst instruct the hoop-makers ; and water this one as thou didst instruct the herdsmen. When all three shall have sprouted, and three apple- trees sprung from the firebrands, then wilt thou know how evil is destroyed in men : then thou shalt atone for thy sins." The hermit said this, and returned to his cell. The krestnik pondered, pondered : he cannot comprehend the meaning of what the hermit had said. But he de- cided to do what he had commanded him. THE GODSON. 255 X. The kr^stnik went to the river, " took prisoner" a mouthful of water, poured it on the firebrand. He went again and again. He also watered the other two. The kr^stnik grew weary, wanted something to eat. He went to the hermit's cell to ask for food. He opened the door, and the hermit is lying dead on a bench. The kr^stnik looked round, found some bis- cuits, and ate them. He found also a spade,* and began to dig a grave for the hermit. At night he brought water, watei*s the brands, and by day he dug the grave. As soon as he had dug the grave, he was anxious to bury the hermit : people came from the vil- lage, bringing food for tlie hermit. The people learned how the hermit had died, and had ordained the kr^stnik to take his place. The people helped bury the hermit, they left bread for the kr^stnik : they promised to bring more, and departed. And the krestnik remained* to live in the hermit's place. The krestnik lives there, subsisting on what people bring him, and he fulfils what was told him, — brings water in his mouth from the river, waters the brands. Thus lived the krestnik for a year, and many people began to come to him. The fame of him went forth, that there is living in the forest a holy man, that he is working out his salvation by bringing water in his mouth from the river under the mountain, that he is 256 THE GODSON. watering tho burned stumps. Many people began to come to him. And rich merchants began to come, brought him gifts. The krestnik took nothing for himself, save what was necessary ; but whatever was given him, he distributed among the poor. And thus the kr(^stnik continued to live : half of the day he brings water in his mouth, waters the brands ; and the other half he sighs, and receives the people. And the kri^stnik began to think that thus he had been commanded to live, and that thus he would de- stroy sin, and atone for his sins. Thus the krestnik lived a second year, and he never let a single day pass without watering ; but as yet not a single brand had sprouted. One time he is sitting in his cell he hears riding past a man on horseback, and singing songs. ^ The krest- nik went out to see what kind of a man it was. He sees a strong young man. His clothes are good, and his horse and the saddle on which he sat were rich. The krestnik stopped him, and asked who this man was, and whence he came. The man halted. ''I," says he, '' am a robber. I ride along the high- ways, I kill men : the more men I kill, the gayer songs I sing.*' The krestnik was alarmed ; asks himself, '' How de- stroy the evil in this man ? It is good for me to speak to those who come to me and repent. But this man boasts of his wickedness.'* The krestnik said nothing, started to go off, but thought, ''Now, how to act? If this cut-throat is in the habit of riding by this way, he will frighten ever}'- body : people will cease coming to me. And there will THE GODSON. 257 be no advantage to them, — yes, and then how shall I live?" And the kr^stnik stopped. And he spoke to the cut-throat, — " Here," says he, " people come to me, not to boast of their wickedness, but to repent, and put their sins away through prayer. Repent thou also, if thou fear- est God ; but if thou dost not desire to repent, then get thee hence, and never return, trouble me not, and frighten not the people from coming to me. And if thou dost not obey, God will punish thee." The cut-throat jeered, — " I am neither afraid of God, nor will I obey thee. Thou art not my master.^ Thou," says he, " livest by thy piety, and I live by robbery. We must all get a living. Teach thou the babas that come to thee, but read me no lecture. And in reply to what thou rubbest into me about God, to-morrow I will kill two men. And I would kill thee to-day, but I do not wish to soil my hands. But henceforth don't come into my way." Thus swaggered the cut-throat, and rode off. But the cut-throat came by no more, and the kr^stnik lived in his former style comfortably for eight years. » Khozydin. 258 THE GODSON. XI. One night the kr^stnik went out to water his brands : he returned to his cell to rest, and he sits watching the road, if any people should soon be coming. And on this day not a soul came. The kr^stnik sat alone by his door; and it seemed lonesome, and he began to think about his life. He remembered how the cut- throat had reproached him for getting his living by his piety, and the kr^stuik reviewed his life : " I am not living," he thinks, "as the hermit commanded me to live. The hermit imposed a penance upon me, and I am getting from it bread and popular glory ; and so led away have I been by it, that I am lonesome when peo- ple do not come to me. And when the people come, then my only joy consists in the fact that they praise my holiness. It is not right to live so. I have been entangled by popular glory. I have not atoned for my former sins, but I have incurred fresh ones. I wiU go into the forest, to another place, so that the people may not come to me. I will live alone, so as to atone for my former sins, and not incur new ones." Thus reasoned the krestnik ; and he took a little bag of biscuits and his spade, and went away from the cell into a cave, so as to dig for himself a hut in a gloomy place, to hide from the people. The krestnik walks along with his little bag and his spade. The cut- throat rides up to him. The krestnik was frightened, tried to run, but the cut-throat over- THE GODSON. 259 took him. '' Where art going? " says he. The kr<^st- nik told him that he wanted to go away from people, to such a place that no one would find him. The cut-throat marvelled. *' How wilt thou live now, when people no longer come to thee? " The kr^stuik had not thought of thiis before ; but when the cut- throat asked him, he began to think about his sustenance. " On what God will give,'* says he. The cut-throat said nothing, rode on. "Why!" thinks the kr^stnik, "I said nothing to him about his life. Perhaps now he is repentant. To- day he seemed more subdued, and did not threaten to kill me." And the kr^stnik shouted to the cut-throat, — "But it is needful for thee to repent. Thou wilt not escape from God." The cut-throat wheeled his horse around. He drew a kuife from his belt, shook it at the kr^stnik. The krestnik was frightened : he ran into the forest. The cut-throat did not attempt to follow him, only shouted, "Twice I have let thee off: fall not in my hands a third time, else I will kill thee ! " He said this, and rode off. The krestnik went at eventide to water his brands : behold ! one has put forth sprouts. An apple-tree is growing from it. 260 THE GODSON. XII. The kr^stnik hid from the people, and began to live alone. His biscuits were used up. *' Well," he says to himself, "now I will seek for roots." As he began his search, he sees, hanging on a bough, a little bag of biscuits. The kr^stnik took it, and began to eat. As soon as his biscuits were gone, again another little bag came, on the same branch. And thus the kr^stnik lived. He had only one grievance : he was afraid of the cut-throat. As soon as he heard the cut-throat, he would hide himself : he would think, " He will kill me, and I shall not have time to atone for my sins." Thus he lived for ten years more. One apple-tree grew, and thus there remained two firebrands as fire- brands. The kr^stnik once arose betimes, started to fulfil his task : he soaked the earth around the firebrands, be- came weary, and sat down to rest. He sits: he gets rested, and thinks, "I have done wrong [because] I have been afraid of death. If it please God, I may thus atone by death for my sins." Even while these thoughts were passing through his mind, suddenly he hears the cut-thi'oat coming : he is cursing. TEE GODSON. 261 The kr^stnik listened ; and he thinks, *' Without God, no evil, no good, can come to me from any one." And he went out to meet the cut- throat. He sees the cut- throat is not riding alone, but has a man behind him on the saddle. And the man's hands and mouth are tied up. The man is silent, but the cut-throat is cursing him. The kr^stnik went out to the cut-throat, stood in front of the horse. "Where," says he, ''art thou taking this man ? ' ' *' I am taking him into the forest. This is a mer- chant's son. He will not tell where his father's money is hidden. I am going to thrash him until he will tell." And the cut-throat started to ride on. But the kr^stnik did not allow it : he seized the horse by the bridle. ''Let this man go,'* says he. The cut- throat was wroth with the kr^stnik, threat- ened him. "Dost thou desire this?" saj-s he. "I promise thee I will kill thee. Out of the way ! " The kr^stnik was not intimidated. '■ I will not get out of thy way," says he. "I fear thee not, I fear God only. And God bids me not let thee go. Unloose the man." The cut-throat scowled, drew out his knife, cut the cords, let the merchant's son go free. " Off with you," says he, " both of you ! and don't cross my path a second time." The merchant's son jumped down, made off. The cut- throat started to ride on, but the kr(^stnik still de- tained him. He began to urge him to reform his evil 262 THE GODSON. life. The cut- throat stood still, heard every word, made no reply, and rode off. The next morning the kr6stnik went to water his firebrands. Behold! the second one had sprouted — another apple-tree is growing. THE GODSON. 263 XIII. Passed ten years more. One time the kr^stnik is sitting down, no one comes to see him : he has no fear, and his heart is glad within him. And the kr^st- nik thinks to himself, ''What blessings men receive from God ! but they torment themselves in vain. They ought to live and enjoy their lives." And he remembered all the wickedness of men — how they torment themselves. And he felt sorry for men. *' Here I am," he thinks, *' living idly. I must go out and tell people what I know." Even while he was pondering, he listens — the cut- throat is coming. He was about to let him pass ; and he thinks, — " Whatever I say to him, he will not accept." This was his first thought ; but then he reconsidered it, went out on the road. The cut-throat is riding by in moody silence : his eyes are on the ground. The kr^stnik gazed at him, and he felt sorry for him : he drew near to him, seized him by the knee. " Dear brother," ^ says he, *' have pity on thine own soul. Lo ! the Spirit of God is in thee. Thou torment- est thyself, and others thou tormentest ; and thou wilt be tormented still more grievously. But God loves thee so ! With what bounty has he blessed thee ! Ruin not thyself, brother ! ^ change thy life." The cut-throat frowned : he turned away. » Brat mUui, » Srdteti, 264 THE GODSON. " Out of my way ! " says he. The kr^stnik clutched the cut-throat's knee more firmly, and burst into tears. The cut-throat fastened his eyes on the kr^stnik. He looked, he looked, dismounted from his horse, and fell on his knees before the krestnik. " Thou hast conquered me, old man,'* ^ he cries. " Twenty years have I struggled with thee. Thou hast won me over. I have henceforth no power over thee. Do with me as it seems to thee good. When thou speakedst to me the first time," says he, " I only did the more evil. And thy words made an impression on me, only when thou wentest away from men, and 1 learned that thou didst gain no advantage from men." And the krestnik remembered that the baba suc- ceeded in cleaning her table when she had rinsed out her towel. When he ceased to think about him- self, his heart was purified, and he began to purify the hearts of others. And the cut-throat said, — "But my heart was changed within me, only when thou didst cease to fear death." And the krestnik remembered that the hoopmakers ^ only succeeded in bending their hoops after they had' fastened their block : when he ceased to be afraid of death, he had fastened his life in God, and a disobedi- ent heart became obedient. And the cut-throat said, — '' But my heart melted entirely, only when thou didst pity me, and weep before me." The krestnik was overjoyed : he led the cut- throat to the place where the firebrands had been. 1 Stdrik. 2 Obodchiki, from obod, a felloe, or hoop. THE GODSON. 265 They came to it, but out of the last firebrand also an apple-tree had sprung ! And the kr^stnik remembered that the drovers* damp wood had kindled only when a great fire was built : when his own heart was well on fire, another's took fire from it. And the kr^stnik was glad because now he had atoned for all his sins. He told all this to the cut-throat, and died. The cut- throat buried him, began to live as the kr^stnik bade him, and thus taught men. SKAZKA. 1885. A Story about Iv^ Tka£k and his Two Brothers, — Sem'yon-vom, and Taras-bnukhan, — and his Dumb Sister, Malan'ya-v'yeko-ukha, and abont the Old DotU and the Three Little Devils. In a certain realm, in a certain state, once lived a rich muzhik. And the rich muzhik had three sons, — Sem'yon-the- warrior, Taras-the-pot-bellied, and Ivan- the-fool, — and a deaf and dumb daughter, Maldn*ya- the-old-maid. Sem'yon-voin went to war, to serve the tsar ; Tdras- briukhan went to the city, to a merchant, to engage in trade; but IvAn-durak^ staid at home with the girl, to work, and grow round-shouldered. Sem*y6n won high rank ^ and an estate, and married a nobleman's daughter. His income was large, and his estate large, and yet he did not make ends meet : * Throughout this skazka, the characteristic epithets of the muzhik's fam- ily are, for the most part, omitted in the translation. The reader will have little difficulty in supplying them mentally, either in Russian or English. It is interesting to remember, in respect to this tale, that it embodies Count Tolstoi's most radical teaching; and Count Tolstoi himself was amazed that the censor allowed it to pass, while the ecientific expressiou of the eamo doctrine was tabooed. » Tchin. IVAN THE FOOL. 267 what the husband gathers in, that the wife, the baruina, forever squanders with lavish hand ; never any money ! And Sem'yon went to his estate to collect his reve- nue. And the steward ^ says to him, — '-'' No way of getting it : we have neither cattle nor tools, nor horses nor cows, nor ploughs nor harrows. All these must be got: then there will be an income." And Sem'yon went to his father. *' Bdtiushka,'* says he, '' thou art rich ; and yet thou hast given me nothing. Give me my third, and I will spend it on my estate." And the old man said, — '' Thou hast brought nothing to my house to warrant my giving thee a third part. It would be an outrage on Ivdn and the girl." But Sem'yon says, — '' Now, look here : ^ he is a fool, and she is a deaf and dumb old maid ; they need nothing.'* And the starik says, — ''Be it as Ivdn shall say." But Ivdn says, — '' Well, then,» let him have it." Sem'yon took the portion from home, spent it on his estate, went off again to the tsar, to serve him. Tdras-briukhan also made much money : he married a merchant's widow, but still he had not enough. He came to his father, and says, " Give me my portion." The starik was unwilling to give Taras his portion either. "Thou," says he, "hast brought nothing to us ; but what is in the house, that Ivan has saved. And so we must not wrong him and the girl." But Tdras says, "What good does it to him? he is a fool. And the deaf and dumb girl doesn't need it » Prikdahchik. * Da v'yid. » m, chto-eh. 268 IVAN THE FOOL, either. — Ivan,** says he, " give me half the grain, — I won't take the tools, — and of the live-stock I will take only the gray stallion : he's no good to thee in plough- ing." Ivdn laughed, and then says, *'A11 right :^ I will start anew." Tdras was given his share. Tdras took the grain to the city : he took the gray stallion ; and Ivdn was left with one antiquated mare, to toil like a peasant,^ as before, to support his father and mother. » yu ehto-eh. * KresVydnstoomV, IVAN THE FOOL. 269 n. The old Devil was wroth because the brothers had not quarrelled over the division, but had parted ami- cably ; and he called three devilkins. '* Look here," says he : '' there live three brothers, Sem'yon, Tdras, and Ivan. They all ought to be quarrelling, but they live peaceably: they visit each other.^ The fool has ruined the whole business for me. You three just go. Take good note of those three, and stir them up, so that they will scratch each other's eyes out. Can you do this? " ''We can," they say. ''How will you do it?*' " Well, we shall do it this way : first, we'll ruin them, so that they'll have nothing to eat, and then throw them all together ; and they will fall to fighting." " Now, that's capital," says he. "I see you know your business. Make haste, and return not to me until you have stiiTcd the three all up, otherwise I'll take the hide of all three of you." The devilkins all went to a bog, began to plan how to undertake their task. They wrangled, wrangled: each one wishes to do the work in the easiest way ; and they decided to cast lots for the one whom each should take, but that, if any of them accomplishes his work before the others, he should come to the aid of the others. The devilkins cast lots, and fixed upon . > Literally, they exchange bread-salt with each other. 270 IVAN TEE FOOL. a time to meet again in the bog, to learn who had suc- ceeded, and who needed help. The time appointed came, and the devilkins met in the bog according to agreement. They began to de- scribe how things had gone with them. The first devilkin began to tell about Sem'yon-voin. " My work," ^ says he, " is getting along well. To- morrow," says he, *'my Sem'yon is going to his father." His mates began to ask, " How," say they, '' didst thou bring it about? " '' Well," says he, ''in the first place, I made Sem'- yon so brave that he promised his tsar to conquer the whole world ; and the tsar made Sem'yon leader, sent him to conquer the tsar of India. They met for battle. That very night I wet all the powder in Sem'yon 's army, and I went to the tsar of India. I made a boundless multitude of soldiers of straw. Sem'yon's soldiers saw that the straw soldiers were coming down upon them from all sides : they were scared. Sem'yon ordered them to fire : their cannon and guns did not go off. Sem'yon's soldiers were panic-struck, and fled like sheep ; and the tsar of India beat them. Sem'yon was disgraced : they confiscated his estate, and to-mor- row they intend to execute him. But I have business with him for a da3^ I took him out of jail, so that he might run home. To-morrow I shall finish with him : so tell us which of you two needs help." And the second devilkin, from Taras, began to tell about his affairs. *' I need no help,'* says he : " my task also has gone smoothly, and Tdras will not live more than a week. In the first place," says he, ''I caused his belly to grow, and filled him with envy. So 1 Dyelo, deed, affair, work. IVAN THE FOOL. 271 great has become his envy of others* goods, that he wishes to buy every thing that he sees. He has spent all his money on a host of things, and still he keeps on buying. Now he has already begun to buy on credit. He's already hung a great debt round his neck, and he has entangled himself so that he can't get out of the tangle. At the end of a week his obligations will fall due, and I shall make rubbish of all of his wares. — He won't be able to pay, and he will go to his father." They turned now to ask the third devilkin about Ivdn. **• Well, how about your affair? '* *' The truth is," ^ says he, " my affair does not pros- per. In the first place, I spit into his pitcher of kvas, so as to give him the belly-ache ; and I went to his field, stamped the ground hard as a stone, so that he might not prevail against it. I thought that he would not plough it ; but he, the fool,^ came with his sokha, began to work at it. His belly-ache makes him groan, but he ploughs all the same. I broke one plough for him : he went home, exchanged it for another, bound on new withs,^ and took up his ploughing again. I crept under the soil, began to hold back his plough- shares : you couldn't hold them back at all. He lays out all his strength on the sokhd, and the ploughshares are sharp. I cut my hands all up. He ploughed almost the whole ; only one little strip was left. Come," says he, '' brothers, to my aid ; for if we don't 1 Da chto. 8 Durdk. 8 Podvoi: these twisted withs are used to fasten the obzhiy or plough-tail, to the razsokha, or wooden cross-piece of the plough. The plough-foot is called the pdloz, and the double iron share the soahnik. The Russians have also the word plough, pfug: it is a moot question whether it is a pure Sia- vouic word, or borrowed from the West. 272 IVAN TEE FOOL. get the better of him, all our labor will be lost. If the fool is left, and is going to farm it,^ they won't know want : he will support both his brothers." Sera'j-on's clevilkin promised to come to his aid the next day, and the devilkius parted. * Eresty'dnstvovaC IVAN THE FOOL. 273 III. Ivan had ploughed the whole fallow : only one nar- row strip remained. He went out to finish ploughing. His belly aches, but he must plough. He cracked his whip, turned over his sokhd, and proceeded to plough. He had only gone over it once, was coming back, when it seemed to catch on a root, pulls back. Now, this was the devilkin, who suddenly wound his legs around the double ploughshare ; pulls on it. "What a strange thing!" thinks Ivdn. ''There were no roots here, but here's a root." Ivdn put his hand down into the furrow, felt some- thing soft. He clutched it, brought it out. It is black, like a root ; but on the root, something moves. Lo ! a live devilkin ! " Hey, there," * says he, '' what a nasty thing ! " Ivdn lifted up his hand, was going to kill him with a blow on the head, when the devilkin began to whine. " Don't strike me," says he, " but I will do for thee whatsoever thou wishest.'* *' What'lt thou do for me? " *' Only tell me what thou wishest." Ivdn scratched his head. '' My belly aches," says he : '' canst thou cure it? " " I can," says he. ''Allriglit,^ doit." The devilkin bent down to the furrow; scratched 1 lah tui I a Nu. 274 IVAN THE FOOL. about, scratched about with his claws ; clutched a little root, — a triple root, — gave it to Ivdn. '' Here," says he : " whoever swallows this one little root, every pain will disappear." Ivdn took it, broke off the little root, swallowed it. Immediately his belly [ache] went away. Again the devilkin said, '' Let me go now," says he. '* I will dive into the earth : I will never come again." *' All right.^ God be with thee." And the moment Ivdn spoke of God, the devilkin plunged suddenly under the earth, like a stone in the water: only the hole was left. Ivdn put the two other little roots into his shapka, and went on with his ploughing. He ploughed the strip to the end, turned over the sokhd, and went home. He unharnessed, went into the izbd, and his elder brother Sem'yon and his wife are sitting at supper. His estate had been confiscated: he had broken out of prison, and had hurried home to live with his father. Sem'yon saw Ivdn : "I have come," says he, ''to live with thee. Feed me and my wife until we find a new place." *' All right," says he ; " live here." As soon as Ivdn sat down on the bench, the odor^ from Ivdn displeased the baruina. She even says to her husband, — *' I cannot endure," says she, '' to eat with a stink- ing muzhik." And Sem'yon says, '' My baruina says the odor from thee is not pleasant : thou hadst better eat in the entry." " All right," ^ says he : " it's about my bedtime — must feed the mare." Ivdn took bread and his kaftan, and went for the night. 1 Jfii cMo-sh. IVAN TEE FOOL. 275 IV. That night Sem'y6n*s devilkin left him, and went, according to agreement, to find Ivdn's devilkin, to help him subdue the fool. He came to the fallow ; sought, sought for his chum — no [sign of him] anywhere — he only found a hole. '^ Well," he thinks, '' some ill has certainl}^ befallen my chum. I must take his place. The fallow has been all ploughed. I shall have to subdue the fool in his hayfield.'* The devilkin went to the meadow, let in a flood over Ivdn's grass : all the hayfield was matted with mud. Ivdn turned out of bed at dawn, whetted his scythe, went to mow the meadow. Ivdn went out ; began to mow. He swings it once — he swings it twice — the scythe is blunted ; doesn't cut — he has to sharpen it. Ivan struggled, struggled. " No," says he, '' I am going home to get a whetstone and a slice of bread. Though I have to work a week, I won't give in till I mow it all." The devilkin was listening: he said to himself, '' This fool is a tough one : thou'lt not get him [this way]. Some other trick must be devised for him." Ivdn went, sharpened his scythe, began to mow. The devilkin crept into the grass, managed to catch the scythe by the heel, to thrust the point into the ground. It was hard for Ivdn, yet he kept on with his 276 IVAN THE FOOL. mowing : there remained only one patch ^ in the marsh. The devilkin crept into the marsh ; thinks to himself, "Though I cut my paws in pieces, still I will not let him mow." Ivdn came to the marsh : the grass to look at is not thick, but it resists the scythe. Ivan grew angry, be- gan to mow with all his might : the devilkin had to give it up — he hasn't time to leap away, he sees it is a bad busmess, he jumped mto a bush. Ivdn was swing- ing his scythe, grazed the bush, clipped off half of the devilkin' s tail. Ivan finished mowing his field, bade the d'y^vka ^ rake it up, and went off to mow the rye. He went out with his sickle, but the curtailed devil- kin was there before him ; had tangled up the rye, so that it gave no chance for the sickle. Ivdn turned round, took his sickle-hook, and set about reaping : he reaped all the lye. *' Well, now," says he, "I must take hold of the oats." The curtailed devilkin was listening : he thinks, ''I did not catch him on the rye, so I must catch him on the oats ; just wait till morning." The devilkin hurried out in the morning to the oat- field, but the oats were already harvested. Ivan had reaped it by night, so that less might shake out. The devilkin was enraged. "The cursed fool," says he, " has hacked me and tortured me ! I never saw such ill luck, even in war. He does not sleep : 3'ou won't get ahead of him. I am going now," says he, "to the heaps of grain: I will rot them all through for him." And the devilkin went to the heaps of rye : he crept 1 BeVydnka, generally a clearing in the woods, s An unmarried girl : here the old maid Malan'ysu IVAN THE FOOL. 277 among the sheaves, began to affect them with rot. He heated them, and got warm himself, and grew drowsy. But Ivdn harnessed the mare, and went with the d'y^vka to get them. They came to the heap, began to pitch them up ; he had pitched up two bundles : he thrust in his fork, struck the devilkin straight in the back ; lo ! on the prongs was the devilkin alive ; yea, verily, with his tail cut short, is sprawling, making wry faces, trying to wriggle off. "Hallo, there!" says he: "what a nasty thing! Art thou here again? " "I," sa3's he, "am another one: that was my brother. But I belong to your brother Sem'yon." "Well," says [Ivdn], "whoever thou art, it's all up with thee." He was just going to impale him on a stake, but the devilkin began to beseech him. " Well, what can you do? " "Well," says he, "I can make soldiers out of any thing that thou pleasest." " But what are they good for? " " Set them at doing any thing that thou wishest," says he. " They can do all things." " Can they play songs? " "They can." " All right," ^ says [Ivdn] : " make some.*' And the devilkin told him, — " Here, take this sheaf of rye ; scatter it over the ground with the grain, and merely say, ' 'Tis my slave's decree, that thou shalt be a sheaf no more. But for every straw that there is in thee, a soldier be.' " Ivdn took the sheaf, scattered it over the ground, » If'u chto-thi 278 IVAN THE FOOL, and repeated what the devilkin bade him say. And the sheaf flew apart, and soldiers were created, and the drummer and the trumpeter playing at their head. Ivdn burst out laug^hinof. '' Hallo ! " ^ says he, " how clever ! That's good,'* says he: ''it'll amuse the d'y^vka." " Well,'* says the devilkin, " let me go now." *' No," saj's he : " I am going to make them out of chaff, for it's no use wasting good seed. Show me how to change them back to the sheaf again. I'm going to thresh it." And the devilkin says, " Repeat, ' For every soldier, be a straw. 'Tis my slave's decree, that a sheaf thou be.' " Ivdn thus said, and again it became a sheaf. And again the devilkin began to plead : " Let me go now," says he. "All right! "2 Ivdn seized him b}^ the legs, held him in his hand, and pulled him from the tines. " God be with you ! " says [Ivdn] ; and as soon as he said "s Bdgom,*' the devilkin plunged into the earth like a stone in water: only the hole was left. Ivan went home ; and at home he found his other brother, Tdras, and his wife, sitting down to supper. Taras had not paid his debts, had fled from his credit- ors, and come to his father. He saw Ivdn. "Well,"^ says he, "now that I'm dead broke, feed me and my wife." " All right," says he : " stay with us." Ivan took off his kaftan, sat down at table. But the merchant's wife says, "I," says she, " can't eat with a fool. He smells of perspiration ! " 1 Jsh tui. 2 2^u chto-zhl 8 Nv. I IVAN THE FOOL. 279 Taras also says, "The odor from thee, Ivdn, is not pleasant: go and eat in the entry.'* *'Well, all right," ^ says he; took bread, went out to the dvor. "It's about my bedtime, anyway; — must feed the mare." ^ Jfii chiO'Uh I 280 IVAN THE FOOL. V. That night Tdras's devilkin left him also, — came, according to agreement, to help his chums to get the better of Ivdn-durdk. He came to the fallow : he hunted, hunted for his chums. No sign of them any- where : he found only a hole. He came to the meadow : in the swamp he found the tail, and in the rye-stubble field he found the other hole. *'Well," he thinks, " some ill must have befallen my chums. I must take their place in order to catch the fool." The devilkin went to find Iv^n. But Ivdn had already left the field for the forest, to cut wood. It had become difficult for the brothers to live to- gether. They bade the fool prepare lumber ; build them new houses. The devilkin hastened to the forest, crept into the knots, began to hinder Ivdn from falling the trees. Ivdn under-cut the tree in the right way for it to fall in a clear space : he began to fall it. The mischief got into the tree : it fell where it ought not, became entan- gled in the branches. Ivdn got his cant-dog, began to free the tree, at last brought it to the ground. Ivdn tried to fall another : again the same thing. He struggled, struggled ; barely succeeded. He took hold of a third : again the same. Ivdn had expected to hew down a half-hundred logs, and he had not hewed down ten ; and it was already night in the dvor, and Ivdn was tired to death. The IVAN THE FOOL. 281 steam arose from him, spread through the forest like a fog ; but still he does not quit. He under-cuts still another tree : his back was almost broken ; and as he had no more strength, he drove the axe into the tree, and sat down to rest. The devilkin perceived that Ivdn was quiet : he rejoiced. '' Well,** ^ he thinks, '' he is quite beat out : he has quitted. I, too, will rest now." He sat astride of a limb, and exults. But Ivdn got up, pulled out the axe, flourished it ; but as he hacks on the other side, the tree all at once began to crack ; fell heavily. The devilkin did not notice, had no time to get his leg out of the way : the limb broke, and nipped the devilkin by the paw. Ivdn began to clear up. Lo ! a live devilkin ! Ivdn was amazed. " Hal- lo !" ^ says he, ''what a nasty thing! thou here again?*' " I am another one,** says he : "I have been at thy brother Tdras's.'* " Well,^ whoever thou art, it will be all the same with thee.*' Ivdn flourished his axe, was about to rap him with the axe-head. The devilkin begged for mercy. " Don't strike me, and I will do for thee whatever thou wishest.** " Well, then, what canst thou do? '* "1 can make thee as much money," says he, "as thou wishest." " All right," ^ says he ; " do so : " and the devilkin began to teach him. '' Take some oak-leaves from this oak, and rub them in thy hands. Gold will fall to the ground." Ivdn took the leaves, rubbed them : gold fell down. ^ Nu! » l8h tui ! 8 Ku chto-zh I 282 IVAN THE FOOL. '' This is good," says he, ''to amuse children with, when I have time." " Let me go," says the devilkin. "All right! "^ Ivdn took his cant-dog, set the devilkin free. '•'• God be with thee ! " says he ; and as soon as he said the words " Bog s toh&i^^^ the devilkin plunged under the earth, like a stone into the water: only the hole was left. 1 Nu chto-zh I IVAN TEE FOOL. 283 VI. The brothers built houses, and began to live apart. But Ivdn got in his crops, brewed beer, and invited his brothers to a revel. The brothers came not as Ivdn's guests. "We have never been to a peasant revel," they say. Ivdn played host to the muzhiks, the babas ; and he himself drank to excess ; began to get tipsy, and went up the street to the singers.^ Ivdn went up to the singers, and bade the babas sing his praises. *'I will give you," says he, ''what you never saw in your lives before." The babas laughed, and began to sing his praises. They iSnished their song and dance in his praise, and said, — " Now, then,^ give [it to us]." "I will bring it to you right away," says he. He took his corn-planter, hastened out to the forest. The babas make sport of him. '' What a fool ! " And they forgot all about him. Lo ! Ivdn comes running back, brings his corn- planter fall of something. '' [Shall I] distribute it, or not? " "Distribute it! " Ivdn caught up a handful of gold, and flung it among the babas. Bdtiushki ! The babas sprang to pick it up : the muzhiks sprang after it — they each * Khorovodui : the band, or ulitsa, of village lads and lasses, who dance and sing at festivals. 2 Nu ddo-zh. 284 IVAN THE FOOL. tried to snatch it from the other — they carry it off. One old woman they almost crush to death. Ivdn burst out laughing. " Akh, you fools ! " says he, " why have you crushed the bdbushka? Don't go so fast, and I will give you more." He began to scatter more. The people crowded around : Ivdn emptied his whole corn-planter. They began to beg for more. But Ivan said, — '' That's all : another time I'll give 3'ou some more. Now give us a dance. Sing us your songs ! " The babas began to sing their songs. "Your songs," says he, "aren't good." " What kind of ones," say they, " are better? " " Well, I'll show you," says he, " in a little while." He went to the barn, pulled out a sheaf, threshed it, scattered it around, pounded it. " Now," says he, " slave, now decree that it shall be a sheaf no more, but every straw a soldier." ^ The sheaf sprang apart, the soldiers stood forth, the drums, trumpets, played. Ivdn commanded the soldiers to sing some songs : he came with them up the street. The people were amazed. The soldiers sang their songs ; and Ivdn led them back to the barn (but he commanded that no one should follow him), and turned the soldiers into a sheaf again, flung it on the pile. He went home, and lay down to sleep in the kennel. 1 "ScfytldH kholop Chtob bull n'ye snop A kdzhdaya solomnika — solddi." IVAN THE FOOL. 285 VII. In the morning the elder brother, Sem*y6n, heard about these doings, came to Ivdn. "Show me," says he, "where thou hast found soldiers, and whither thou hast taken them." " But what good," says he, " will it do thee? " "Why dost thou ask? With soldiers, every thing can be done. One can win a kingdom for one's self." Ivan was amazed. ' ' Really ? " ^ says he : " why didst thou not say so long ago ? I will make thee as many as thou wishest. It's well the d'y^vka and I put aside a good many." Ivan took his brother to the barn, and says, " Look, I am going to make them ; but do tliou lead them away, for, if we have to feed them, then they will ruin the whole village in a day." Sem'yon promised to lead the soldiers away, and Ivdn began to make them. He thumps a sheaf on the barn-floor — a squad ! He thumps another — another squad. He made so many of them that they filled the whole field. " Well, will tliat be enough? " Sem'yon was % delighted, and says, "That'll be enough. Thanks, Ivdn." " All right," ^ says he : "if thou needest any more, come back, and I will make some more. We have a great deal of straw to-day." ^Jfu. » TO'to. 286 IVAN THE FOOL. Sem'yon immediately gave orders to his army, drew them up in proper order, and went off to make war. Sem'yon had not more than gone when Taras makes his appearance — he also had heard of yesterday's doings — began to beg his brother, ' ' Show me where thou gettest gold mone3% If I had such an abundance of money, I would with that money get in money from all over the world." Ivdn was amazed. '' Really? Thou shouldst have told me long ago. I will rub thee out as much as thou wishest." His brother was delighted. '* Give me only three planterfuls.'* *' All right," says he, " let us go to the woods ; but put in the horse — it'll be too much for thee to lug." They went to the forest : Ivdn began to rub the oak- leaves. He made a great heap. *' Is that enough, or not? " Tdras was delighted. " Enough for now," says he. " Thanks, Ivdn." "All right," says he. "If thou hast need, come, I will rub some more for thee : a good many leaves are left." T^ras gathered up a whole cartful, and went off to trade. Both brothers went off. And Sem'yon began to make war, but Tdras to trade. And Sem'yon con- quered for himself a tsardom, and Taras made a vast heap of money in trade. The brothers came together, and revealed to each other whence Sem'yon got his soldiers, and Tdras his money . And Sem'yon says to his brother, "I," says he, " have conquered for myself a tsardom ; and I might IVAN THE FOOL. 287 live well, only — I have not enough money to support my soldiers." And Taras says, " And I," says he, '* have gathered together a great heap of money: but," says he, '' there's one trouble ; there is no one to guard my money." And Sem*y6n says, '' Let us go," says he, *' to our brother. I will bid him make some more soldiers — I will give thee enough to guard thy money, but thou must bid him rub enough money for me to sustain my soldiers." And they went to lA^an. They come to Ivdn : and Sem'yon says, " My sol- diers are too few, brother," says he; "make me some more soldiers, change at least two ricks into soldiers." Ivdn shook his head. " No use," says he : "I am not going to make thee any more soldiers." " But how is that? " says he : " thou madest me a promise." " I made a promise," says he, " but I will not make any more." " But why, thou fool, wilt thou make no more? " " Well, because thy soldiers have put a man to death. The other day I was ploughing by the road : I see a baba carr3'ing along the road a coffin, and she herself is wailing. I asked her, 'Who is dead?' She says, ' Sem'3^6n's soldiers have killed my husband in war.' I thought that soldiers were for singing songs, but they have put a man to death. I will give thee no more." And thus he persisted, and refused to make any more soldiers. Tdras now began to implore Ivan to make some more golden money for him. 288 IVAN THE FOOL. IvAn shook his head. " No use," says he : "I will not rub any more." '^ Well, but how is this?" says he: ''thou hast made me a promise.' ' " I promised," says he, "but I will not make any more." " But why, thou fool, wilt thou not make any more?" " Well, because thy gold-pieces have robbed Mikhdil- ovna of her cow ! ' ' " How have thej^ robbed her? " "In this way they have robbed her: Mikhdilovna had a cow, her children ate milk ; but lately her chil- dren have come to me to beg milk. And I say to them, ' Where is your cow ? ' They say, ' Tdras-briuk- han's overseer^ came along, gave our mdmushka three gold-pieces, and she let him have the cow : now we have no milk to eat.' I thought that thou didst want to play with the gold-pieces, but thou hast robbed the children of their cow : I will not give any more." And the fool was firm, gave no more. And so the brothers went away. The brothers went away, and began to plan how to help their misfortune. Sem'3'6n says, "See here, this is what we'll do. Give thou me money to maintain my soldiers, and I will give thee half my tsardom, with soldiers to guard thy money." Taras agreed. The brothers went shares, and both became tsars, and both rich. » Prikdshchik. IVAN THE FOOL. 289 VIII. But Ivan lived at home, supported his father and mother, worked with the deaf and dumb d'yevka in the field. Now, it happened once that Ivan's old watch-dog ^ fell sick, became mangy, began to die. Ivdn was sorry for him ; got some bread from his deaf and dumb sister, laid it in his shapka, took it to the dog, threw it to him. But the cap was torn, and there fell with the bread one little root. The old dog swallowed it with the bread. And as soon as the dog had swallowed the root, he jumped up, began to frisk around, to bark, to wag his tail — get well. The father and mother saw this : they were amazed. " How," say they, " didst thou cure the dog? " And Ivdn says, " I had two little roots, — they will cure any disease, — and the dog swallowed one of them." And it happened about this time that a tsar's daugh- ter fell ill : and the tsar published through all cities and towns, that whoever should cure her should be re- warded ; and if he were unmarried, that he should receive, in addition, the tsar's daughter in marriage. The proclamation was made also in Ivdn's village. Ivdn's father and mother called him in, and say to him, " Hast thou heard what the tsar proclaims? Thou 1 Sobdka dvdrnaya. 290 IVAN THE FOOL. hast said that thou hast the little root : make haste, cure the tsar's daughter. Thou wilt win everlasting glory." ''AH right," ^ says he. And Iv^n got ready to start : they spruced him up. Ivdn goes out on the doorstep: he sees standing there a beggar-woman, with a crippled hand. "I have heard," says she, "that thou canst cure folks. Cure my hand, for now I cannot put on my own shoes." And Ivdn says, " All right." He took out the little root, gave it to the beggar-woman, bade her swallow it. The beggar-woman swallowed it, and became cured ; immediately began to use her hand. IvAn's father and mother came out to escort him to the tsar. When they learned that Ivdn had given away his last rootlet, and had nothing to cure the tsar's daughter with, his father and mother began to upbraid him. " Thou hadst pity on the beggar-woman," say they, *' but on the tsar's daughter thou hadst no pity." Ivdn began to feel sorry for the tsar's daughter also. He harnessed the horse, spread some straw into the wagon- box, and started. " Now,^ where art thou going, fool? " " To cure the tsar's daughter." " Yes,^ but see here : thou hast nothing to cure her with." "It's all right," ^ says he; and he started up the horse. He came to the tsar's dvor ; and, as soon as he mounted the steps, the tsar's daughter got well. The tsar was overjoj^ed, commanded Ivdn to be ^Nuchto-zh. ^ Dal IVAN THE FOOL. 291 brought to him. He clothed him, decorated him. " Be thou," says he, "my son-in-law ! " *' All right," ^ says he. And Ivdn married the tsar^vna. And soon the tsar died, and Ivdn became tsar. Thus all three of the brothers became tsars. 1 Nu chto-zkl 292 IVAN THE FOOL. IX. The three brothers lived — were tsars. The eldest brother, Sem'jon, lived well. With his straw soldiers he collected real soldiers. He com- manded throughout his whole tsardom that every ten dvors should furnish a soldier, and that this soldier should be lofty in stature, and white in body, and clean in face. And he collected many such soldiers, and trained them all. And when any one contradicted him in any thing, he immediately sends these soldiers, and he does whatever he pleases. And all began to hate him. And life was pleasant to him. Whatever he fancies, and whatever his eyes rest upon, that is his. He sends soldiers, and they take and bring all that he wants. Tdras also lived well. He did not waste the money that he had got from Ivdn, but he made great additions to it. He also set up fine arrangements in his tsardom. He kept his money in coffers, and he exacted money from the people. He exacted money for their serfs,^ and for their coming and going, and for their sabots,^ and for their leg- wrappers, and for taxes. And what he fancies, every thing is his. For money they bring him every thing ; and they go to work, because every one must have money. And Ivdn-durak did not live poorl}-. As soon as he * Dushi, literally souls. « Lapti, bast shoes. IVAN THE FOOL. 293 had buried his father-in-law, he took off all his royal raiment, gave it to his wife to lock up in the chest : he dressed in his hempen shirt ^ again, put on his drawers and sabots, and betook himself to work. *' It bores me," says he : " my belly began to grow, and no appetite, and can't sleep." He brought his father and mother, and the deaf and dumb d'y^vka, and began once more to work. And they said to him, — '' But, don't you see, you are a tsar ! " The minister came to him, saying, "We have no money," says he, ''to pay salaries." ''AH right," ^ says fivan] : "if you have none, then don't pay." " But," says he, " they won't ser\^e." "All right," ^ says he, "let them not serve," says he : " they will be freer if they work. Let them carry out manure : they have brought a lot." They came to Iv^n to sit in judgment. One says, " He has stolen my money." And Ivdn says, "All right! of course he needed it." All perceived that IvAn was a fool; and his wife said to him, " They say that thou art a fool." "All right! "8 vvdn's wife pondered, pondered ; but she also was a fool.* "What is the use," says she, "for me to go against my husband? Where the needle [is], there the thread also [should be]." She took off her royal raiment, locked it up in the chest, went to the dumb d'y^vka, took lessons in work, * Rubdkha. • Nu chto-eh. » Nu chto-zh; well, what of it? * Diira, fool, does lot exactly express it, any more than its masculine, durdk. Crazy, mad, is the adjective that correepouds. 294 IVAN THE FOOL. When she had learned how to work, she began to aid her husband. And all the wise left Ivan's tsardom : only fools were left. No one had any money. They lived, they worked, they supported themselves, and supported good men. IVAN THE FOOL. 295 X. The old Devil waited, waited for tidings from the devilkins, about their success in provoking the three brothers : no tidings at all. He himself went to inves- tigate. He hunted, hunted ; discovered no sign of them : he found only the three holes. *' Well," says he to himself, " plainly they did not get the better of them. I must take hold myself." He started on the quest, but the brothers were not in their old places. He found them in their different kingdoms. All three are alive, reigning as tsars. This seemed outrageous to the old Devil. '' Well," ^ says he, " I had better take hold of this job myself." He went first of all to Sem'yon-tsar. He went not in his own shape, but changed into a vaivode,^ came to Sem 'yon-tsar. " 1 have heard," says he, " that thou, Sem'yon-tsar, art a great warrior ; and I am thoroughly posted in that business. I wish to enter thy service." Sem'yon-tsar began to question him, sees that he is a man of sense, took him into his service. The new vaivode began to show Sem'yon-tsar how to collect a powerful army. '* First thing," says he, "it is necessary to collect more soldiers; and now," sa3''s he, "many people « RusBiati voyevdda, army-leader: also written in English, waywode. 296 IVAN THE FOOL. are idly wandering up and down thy tsardom. It is necessary," says he, "to recruit all the young men, without exception ; then thou wilt have an army five times as large as before. Secondly, it is necessary to get new rifles and cannon. I will get for thee such rifles as will shoot a hundred bullets at a time, that will fly about like peas. And I will get such cannon as will consume with fire. Either man, or horse, or wall — all will be consumed." Sem'yon-tsar listened to his new vaivode ; ordered all the young children, without distinction, to be taken as soldiers ; and he established new manufactories. He made new rifles, cannon, and immediately went to war with a neighboring tsar. As soon as the army came out to meet them, Sem'yon- tsar ordered his soldiers to shoot at them with bullets, and with fire from the cannon. At one blow it disabled, burned up, half the army. The neighboring tsar was panic-struck, ate humble-pie, and surrendered his tsar- dom. Sem'yon-tsar was overjoyed. " Now," says he, "I am going to attack the tsar of India." But the tsar of India had heard about Sem'yon-tsar, and copied from him all of his inventions: yes, and, moreover, invented some of his own. The tsar of India began to take as soldiers, not only young children, but all the unmarried babas he also enlisted as sol- diers ; and his army became still larger than Sem'yon- tsar's. And he copied from Sem'yon-tsar all his rifles and cannon, and, moreover, invented a method of flying through the air, and launching bomb-shells from above. Sem'yon-tsar went to war against the tsar of India — he thought to win in battle as before ; but the scythe that once cut was dulled : the tsar of India did IVAN THE FOOL. 297 not let Sem'yon's army shoot, but he sent his babas up into the air to launch bomb-shells upon Sem'yon's army. The babas began to drop bombs from above upon Sem'yon's army, like a tempest on beetles : all Sem'yon's army took to flight, and Sem'yon-tsar was left alone. The tsar of India took Sem'yon's tsar- dom, and Sem'yon fled with all his might. ^ The old Devil was done with this brother, and went to Taras-tsar. He changed into a merchant, and settled in Tdras's tsardom ; began to establish estab- lishments, began to be free with his money. ^ The merchant began to pay dear for every sort of thing, and all the people flocked to the merchant — to earn money. And the people made so much money that they all cancelled their debts, and all began to pa}" their taxes prompth\ Taras-tsar was delighted. *' Thanks to the mer- chant," thinks he, " now I shall get still more money — my life will be still better. ' ' And T^ras-tsar endeavored to devise new devices : he began to build a new palace for himself. He in- vited the people to bring him lumber and stone, and set to work : he offered high prices for every thing. Tdras-tsar thought that, judging by the past, the people would come to work for him in crowds for the money. Lo ! they bring all the lumber and stone to the merchant, and all the working-people flock to him. Tdras-tsar raised his offer, but the merchant went still higher. Tdras-tsar had much money, but the merchant still more ; and the merchant's price was better than the tsar's. The tsar's palace was at a stand -still : building stops. 1 Kudd glazd gryad'ydi; literally, whither the eyes look, hence attentively, diligently. * Deneehki : copper coins, worth a quarter of a kopek. 298 IVAN THE FOOL. A garden had been laid out for Taras-tsar. The autumn came. Tdras the tsar invites the people to come to him to work in the garden — no one comes — all the people are engaged in digging a pond for the merchant. Winter came. Tdras-tsar contemplated buying sable- skins for a new shuba : he sends out to buy them — his messenger comes back — says, ' ' There are no sable- skins. The merchant has them all : he gave a higher price, and he has made a carpet out of the sable- skins." Tdras-tsar wanted to buy himself some stallions : he sent out to buy — his agents return: '^ The mer- chant has all the good stallions : they are bringing him water to fill up his pond." All the tsar's affairs are at a stand-still ; they will do nothing for him, but they do every thing for the mer- chant : and they only bring him the merchant's money ; they pay it for their taxes. And the tsar collected so much money that he had nowhere to put it, and life became wretched. The tsar had now ceased to devise devices — his only concern was to live at all — and this is impossible. He was hampered on all sides. His cooks and coachmen left, him, and took service with the merchant. It had now gone so far that he had nothing to eat. If he sends to the bazar to buy any thing — there is nothing : the merchant has bought every thing up, and they bring him only money for taxes ! Tdras the tsar was angry, and banished the mer- chant beyond the frontier ; but the merchant settled down on the very frontier ; the same thing happens : all is exactly the same ; for the sake of the merchant's money they carry every thing away from the tsar to IVAN THE FOOL. 299 the merchant. It became thoroughly unpleasant for the tsar ; for days at a time, there is nothing to eat ; the report spread even, that the merchant boasts that he is willing to buy the tsar himself. Tsar Taras lost his courage, and he knows not what will come of it. Sem'yon-voin comes to him, and says, " Help me,** says he : '' the tsar of India has conquered me." But the affairs of Tdras the tsar himself were in a knot. ''I myself," says he, '' have not had any thing to eat for two days." 300 IVAN THE FOOL. XI. The old Devil was done with two of the brothers, and he came to Ivdn. The old Devil changed into a vai'vode, came to Ivdn, and tried to persuade him to form an army. ''It does not," says he, "become a tsar to live without an army. Only give me orders, and I will gather soldiers from thy people, and form an army.'* Ivdn heard him to the end. " All right," says he, " form it ; but teach them to sing songs most cleverly. I like that." The old Devil sets to work to recruit volunteer sol- diers throughout Ivdn's dominion. He explained that they should shave their foreheads : each recruit would have a measure of vodka ^ and a red cap. The fools burst into a laugh. " We have enough of brandy," they say; "we make it ourselves: and as for shapki, our babas will make us as many as you like, even variegated ones ; yes, and with tassels too ! "• And so he got no recruits. The old Devil comes to Ivdn. "They will not come," says he, "as volunteers: they must be forcibly conscripted." " All right, "/^ says he, " conscript £hem forcibly." And the old Devil " gave orders that all the fools should be enrolled as soldiers, and whoever did not come, Ivdn would put to death. 1 A shtof: eight of these measures make a v*yedro, or 2.70 gallons. • 2Pu chto-zh. JVAN THE FOOL. 301 The durdki came to the vai'vode, and say, ''Thou tellest us that if we go not as soldiers, the tsar will put us to death ; but thou dost not tell us what will happen to us in the army. They say that eveu soldiers are carried off by death.'* " Yes, but not without reason.'* The durdki heard this, and were firm. . "We will not go," they say. "It is better, let us wait for death at home. Even thus it is not to be escaped." " You are fools, fools ! " says the old Devil ; " sol- diers may get killed, or may not: but if you don't come, Ivdu the tsar will assuredly put you to death." The durdki pondered a little : they went to Ivdn- durdk to ask him. " A vaiVode," say they, " ap- peared, commands us all to go as soldiers. ' If 3'ou go as soldiers,' says he, 'you may be killed, or may Dot; but if you don't come, then the tsar Ivdn will assuredly put you to death.' Is this true? " Ivdn burst into a laugh. " How," says he, " can I alone put you all to death? If I were not a fool, I would explain it for you ; but now I don't understand it myself." " Then," say they, " we will not go." " All right," says he, " don't go." The durdki went to the vaivode, and refused to en- list. The old Devil sees that his work is not prospering. He went to the Tarakdn ^-tsar : he went in disguise. " Come on," says he, " let us make war upon Ivdn the tsar. He has not much money, but he has grain and cattle, and all sorts of good things." The Tarakdn-tsar went to war ; he collected a great 1 Tardkd7i is a cockroach, or beetle. 802 IVAN THE FOOL. army ; furnished rifles, cannon ; crossed the frontier, began to march into Ivdn's dominion. They came to Ivdn and say, ''The Tarakdn-tsar is marching to make war upon us.'* " All right," says he, " let him come." The Tarakdn-tsar crossed the frontier with his army, sent scouts to reconnoitre Ivdu's army. They searched, searched : no army ! To wait, keep waiting — will it not appear somewhere? But there is no sign of an army — nobody to fight with ! The Tarakdn-tsar sent to seize the villages. The soldiers came to one village. The fools — men, women — ran out — gaze at the sol- diers — are amazed. The soldiers began to rob the durdki of their grain, their cattle. The durdki give them up, and no one offers resistance. The soldiers came to another village — the same thing there. The soldiers proceeded one day; they pro- ceeded another ; everywhere always the same ; every thing is given up, no one offers to resist, and they in- vite the soldiers to live with them. *'If life is so wretched over on your side, dear friends," they say, " come and live with us ! " The soldiers marched, marched, — no army ! And all the people exist by feeding themselves and others ; and they offer no resistance, and invite them to live with them. It became tiresome to the soldiers : they returned to their Tarakdn-tsar. *' We cannot fight: lead us to some other place. The war would have been good, good ; but this is like cutting kissel- jelly. We cannot make war any longer here." The Tarakdn-tsar was angry ; commanded the sol- IVAN THE FOOL. 303 diers to overrun the whole tsardom ; to pick quarrels ; to set villages, houses, grain, on fire ; to kill the cat- tle. "If you obey not mj^ command,'* says he, "all of you,'* says he, " I will put you to death." The soldiers were frightened : they began to carry out the ukas on the tsardom. They began to burn houses, grain ; to kill the cattle. Still the durdki offer no resistance, only weep. The old men weep, the old women weep, the 3'oung children weep. " Why," say they, " do you injure us? Why," say they, " do ye evil for good? If ye need any thing, ye had better take it for yourselves ! " It seemed abominable to the soldiers. They went no farther, and the whole army took to its heels. 304 J VAN THE FOOL. XII. Thus the old Devil also went off — he did not catch him by his soldiers. The old Devil changed into a neatly dressed gentle- man,^ and came to live in Ivan's dominions : ^ he made up his mind to catch him by means of money, as he had Taras. "I wish," says he, "to do you a good turn, — to teach you how to be wise. I," says he, " will build you a house, and establish some establishments." " All right," says Ivdn, " live here." ^ The neatly dressed gentleman spent the night, and in the morning went to the public square, took a great bag of gold, and sheets of paper, and sa^^s, "You live, all of you," says he, "like swine: I want to teach you like 3'ou ought to live. Build me," says he, "a house on this plan. You work, and I will show you how ; and I will pay you in gold coin." And he showed them the gold. The fools wondered. They had no money in manufactures, and they bartered among themselves one thing for another, and paid in wood. They wondered at the gold. "The pieces," they say, "are pretty." And they began to exchange their produce and work for the gen- tleman's gold-pieces. The old Devil began to be free with his gold, as he had in Taras 's case ; and they began to exchange all sorts of things for his gold, and to work all sorts of works. 1 Gospodin 2 Tm7'stvo. ^ 2fu chto-zh, zhivi. IVAN THE FOOL. 305 The old Devil was overjoyed : he thinks, " My scheme is coming on excellently. Now I am going to get the fool angry, as I did Tdras ; and I shall buy him abso- lutely, body and soul." ^ As soon as the durdki got their gold coins, they gave them to their babas for necklaces : all the d'yevkas twined them into their tresses. And even the children in the streets began to use them as toys to play with. All had a quantity, and they cease not to add to it. But still the neatly dressed gentleman's mansion was not half completed, and he had not as yet provided enough grain and cattle for the year. And the gentle- man publicly invites the people to work for him, to cart him grain, to bring him cattle : for all kinds of things, and for all kinds of work, he will give much gold. No one comes to work, and no one brings any thing. Only now and then a lad or a little girl happens along to exchange an egg for a gold-piece. The neatly dressed gentleman began to get famished ; went to a village to buy himself a dinner. He forced his way into one dvor ; offers gold for a hen ; the kozyaika refuses it. *' I have,'* says she, " a lot of these things.'* He forced his way into a poor peasant-woman's hut,^ to buy a herring: he offers gold. "I don't need it, kind sir," says she. "I have no children," says she, ' ' to play with such a thing ; and I have already got three pieces as curiosities." He forced his way into a muzhik's after bread : the muzhik also refused the money. " I don't need it," he says, "Christ be praised! It's nothing: just wait till I tell my baba to cut you off some." The devil spit ; hastened away from the muzhik. * 8 potrokhom, with his inwards 1 * Bobuilka. 806 IVAN THE FOOL. He could not stomach that Christ be praised; ^ and even the hearing of the words hurt him worse than a knife. And so he got no bread. All had sufficient ; wherever the old Devil goes, no one will give him any thing for money ; but all say, ^^ Bring something else,*' or " Come and work," or " Take it, in Christ's name." ^ But the Devil has nothing except money, and no desire to work ; but the Christ's sake he cannot stomach. The old Devil grew angry. ''What do you need more, when I offer you money? You buy every thing for gold, and hire every sort of workman." The durdki do not listen to him. " No," say they, " we don't need it. No one here pays taxes or wages. What should we want of money ? ' ' The old Devil, after he had eaten supper, went to bed. This affair was reported to Ivdn-durdk : they came to ask him, "What are we to do? This neatlj^ dressed gentleman appeared among us : he likes to eat and drink good things ; he likes to dress neatly ; but he does not like to work, and he does not ask alms ; ^ but he offers only gold-pieces everywhere. Until we got enough of them, we gave it to him for them ; but now we don't any more. What are we to do with him? How could he help dying of starvation? " Ivan listened. " All right," says he. " We must support him. Let him go from dvor to dvor as the shepherd goes." No help for it : the old Devil began to go from dvor to dvor. He came in rotation to Ivan's dvor. The old Devil came in to dinner ; and at Ivdn's the deaf and dumb d'yevka was getting dinner ready. 1 Bddi Khnsta. rVAN THE FOOL. 307 The most slothful had often deceived her. After they finished their work, the men come in to dinner earlier* than usual. They eat up all the kasha-gruel. And the deaf and dumb d'yevka was quick-witted enough to recognize the bummer by his hands. Any one who has callous places on his hands, she gives a seat to ; but the one who has not, to him she gives the scraps. The old Devil climbed up to the table : but the deaf and dumb d'yevka took hold of his hands, looked at them closely ; no callous places, and the hands are clean, smooth, and the nails are long. The dumb girl grunted like a cow, and pulled the Devil away from the table. But Ivdn's wife says to him, "Do not ill-treat the neatly dressed gentleman : my sister-in-law does not allow those who have not callous hands to come to table. . . . Here, have patience : the men are almost done eating, then thou shalt eat up what is left." The old Devil was affronted because at the tsar's they wanted him to feed with the pigs. He took it upon him to say to Tvdn, "You h^ve," says he, "a foolish law in your dominions, — that all people work with their hands. That was a stupid way of looking at it. Why should people work with their hands alone ? Dost thou realize in what way men of intellect work? " But Ivdn says, " Wherever we fools have a chance, we always work to the utmost with our hands." *' That comes of the fact that you are fools. But I," says he, "will teach you how to work with your brains : then you will know that head-work is more profitable than hand-work." Ivdn was amazed. "Well," says he, " we are not called fools for nothing." 308 IVAN THE FOOL. And the old Devil says, " But it is not easy," says he, " to work with the brain. Here you did not allow me to eat with you because my hands were not cal- loused, but you don't understand that it is a hundred times harder to work with the brain. Sometimes the head even splits." Ivdn sank into thought. ''Why," says he, "be- loved, dost thou torment thyself so? Is it easy when the head splits? Thou wouldst much better do easy work — even hard work with the hands." But the Devil says, '^ Why should I bother m3^self to take pity on you fools ? If I did not bother myself, you would be fools forever. But now I am going to teach you how to work with your brains." Ivan marvelled. "Teach us," says he; "but the next time that the hands get tired out, then change them for head-work." And the Devil promised to teach them. And Ivdn proclaimed throughout all his dominions, that the neatly dressed gentleman would teach all how to work with the brains, and how they can work with their brains better than with their hands, and that they come to be taught. A high watch-tower was built in Ivdn's dominions, and on it a steep stairs ; and on top, a platform. And Ivan took the gentleman there, so that he might be in sight of all. The gentleman stood on the tower, and began to speak from it. And the duraki gathered to behold. The durdki thought that the gentleman was going to give illustrations how to work with the brain apart from the hands. But the old Devil only multiplied words to teach them how it was possible to live without work. The fools understood nothing. They gazed and IVAN THE FOOL. 309 gazed, and then went in different directions to their labors. The old Devil stood one day on the tower, stood for another day, talked all the time. He began to get hungry. But the durdki thought it needless to bring bread to the tower. They thought that if he could work better with his brains than with his hands, then it would be mere play for the brains to provide bread. And the old Devil stood for still another day on the platform, and began to grow weak. He staggered once, and thumped his head against the post. One fool noticed it, and told Ivan's wife ; and Ivan's wife came to her husband, in the fallow field. " Let us go," says she, ''and look: they say that the gospodin is giving lessons in brain- work." Ivdn was surprised. " Really? " ^ says he. He turned the horse round ; went to the tower. He comes to the tower ; and the old Devil by this time was thoroughly weak in the head, began to totter, whacked his head against the post. As soon as Ivdn came, the Devil stumbled, fell with a thundering noise down the stairs, head over heels : he counted all the steps. " Well," says Ivdn, " the neatly dressed gentle- man told the truth when he said that sometimes the head splits : that's its kind of callosities. From such work the head gets covered with bumps." The old Devil came bumping down the stairs, and thumped against the ground. Ivdn was about to go and see whether he had accomplished much work, when, suddenly, the earth opened, and the old Devil fell through the earth : only the hole was left. ^ 2fu. 310 IVAN THE FOOL. Ivdn scratched his head. "Ah, ha!"^ says he. " What a nasty thing ! There he was again ! Must have been the father.*^ What a healthy one ! " Ivdn is still living, and all the people are thronging to his dominions ; and his brothers have come to him, and he supports them. Whoever comes, and says, '' Give us food," — " All right," ^ says he : " 3^ou're welcome ! we have plenty of every thing." There is only one regulation in his tsardom : Whoever has cal- lous hands, comes to the table ; and who has not, gets the scraps ! 1 Jsh tuu « Batka. » Nu chto-zh. GLOSSAKT. Baha. Peasant - woman, especially the wife of a peasant. JSdrin. The master, especially in the parlance of peasants. Baruinat the lady or mistress. Bdtiushka. Grandfather (diminutive). Durdk. A fool. Dvor. Any household establishment including izba or house or palace with the grounds. Dvomik. The servant devoted to the care of the dvor : hence porter, in- side-mau, or hostler. B'yixika. Unmarried or marriageable girl. Gospodin. Gentleman. Izba. Peasant's cottage. Kaftan. Peasant -coat, diminntlve kaftanchik. Kasha. Gruel. Khozydin. Master of any sort of es- tablishment. Khozydika. The wife of a khozyain, or the mistress of any sort of estab- lishment. Krestnik. A godson. Kvas. A drink made of fermented rye. Lapti. Wooden shoes made of basts. Young married woman, diminutive from moloddya, from adjective mo- lod, young. Moloddika. Molddka. Molodushka. Molodukha. Muzhik. (Mujik, moujic.) Peasant, countryman fthc peasant is known also as krestydnin. Probably from Christian when It was a term of reproach) . Nu chto-zh. Literally, well, or now, what? Pirozhki. Diminutive of pirog, a pie. Prikdshchik. Steward, manager. Samovar. A tea-apparatus, generally of brass, consisting of charcoal- holder, water-urn, etc. Tula is the home of the samovar. Samovar- chik, diminutive. Sarafan. A long over-garment with- out arms : it is a distinctive Russian dress. Sarafanchik, diminutive. Shchi. Cabbage-soup. Shuba. Fur garment, " furs " in general. Shubyonka, diminutive. Sokha. The Russian national plough. Stdnk. Old man. Stdrosta. Noun formed from root star old; head of a community. Strdnnik. A professional pilgrim. Vdlenki. Felt boots. Vareniki. A kind of pirog, or patty, filled with whey, or something of the sort. Vodka. Com-bi-andy, diminutive of voda water, aqua vitae. Volost. Canton; several communi- ties in one administration. 311 COUNT TOLSTOrS WORKS. The demand for these Russian stories has but just fairly begun; but it is a literary movement more widespread, more intense, than anything this country has probably seen within the past quarter of a century. — JBos*ow Traveller. ANNA KARENINA. \2mo, $1.75. " Will take rank among the great works of fiction of the age." — Portland Tran- script. "As you read on, you say not, 'This is like life ' but 'This is life.'" — W. D, Howells. IVAN ILTITOH, AND OTHER STORIES, jzmo, $1.25. 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