The old grandfather again spoke, saying: “Well, even if they _did_ call

you bad names, it would have been better to return good for evil, and

by your example show them how to speak better. Such conduct on your

part would have been best for all concerned.” He continued: “Well, you

had a fight, you wicked people. Such things sometimes happen, but it

would be better if you went afterward and asked forgiveness and buried

your grievances out of sight. Scatter them to the four winds of heaven,

for if you do not do so it will be the worse for you in the end.”

The younger members of the family, still obstinate, refused to profit

by the old man’s advice, and declared he was not right, and that he

only liked to grumble in his old-fashioned way.

Ivan refused to go to his neighbor, as the grandfather wished, saying:

“I did not tear out Gavryl’s beard. He did it himself, and his son tore

my shirt and trousers into shreds.”

Ivan entered suit against Gavryl. He first went to the village justice,

and not getting satisfaction from him he carried his case to the

village court.

While the neighbors were wrangling over the affair, each suing the

other, it happened that a perch-bolt from Gavryl’s wagon was lost; and

the women of Gavryl’s household accused Ivan’s son of stealing it.

They said: “We saw him in the night-time pass by our window, on his way

to where the wagon was standing.” “And my _kumushka_ [sponsor],” said

one of them, “told me that Ivan’s son had offered it for sale at the

_kabak_ [tavern].”

This accusation caused them again to go into court for a settlement of

their grievances.

While the heads of the families were trying to have their troubles

settled in court, their home quarrels were constant, and frequently

resulted in hand-to-hand encounters. Even the little children followed

the example of their elders and quarrelled incessantly.

The women, when they met on the riverbank to do the family washing,

instead of attending to their work passed the time in abusing each

other, and not infrequently they came to blows.

At first the male members of the families were content with accusing

each other of various crimes, such as stealing and like meannesses. But

the trouble in this mild form did not last long.

They soon resorted to other measures. They began to appropriate one

another’s things without asking permission, while various articles

disappeared from both houses and could not be found. This was done out

of revenge.

This example being set by the men, the women and children also

followed, and life soon became a burden to all who took part in the

strife.

Ivan Scherbakoff and “Gavryl the Lame” at last laid their trouble

before the _mir_ (village meeting), in addition to having been in court

and calling on the justice of the peace. Both of the latter had grown

tired of them and their incessant wrangling. One time Gavryl would

succeed in having Ivan fined, and if he was not able to pay it he would

be locked up in the cold dreary prison for days. Then it would be

Ivan’s turn to get Gavryl punished in like manner, and the greater the

injury the one could do the other the more delight he took in it.

The success of either in having the other punished only served to

increase their rage against each other, until they were like mad dogs

in their warfare.

If anything went wrong with one of them he immediately accused his

adversary of conspiring to ruin him, and sought revenge without

stopping to inquire into the rights of the case.

When the peasants went into court, and had each other fined and

imprisoned, it did not soften their hearts in the least. They would

only taunt one another on such occasions, saying: “Never mind; I will

repay you for all this.”

This state of affairs lasted for six years.

Ivan’s father, the sick old man, constantly repeated his good advice.

He would try to arouse their conscience by saying: “What are you doing,

my children? Can you not throw off all these troubles, pay more

attention to your business, and suppress your anger against your

neighbors? There is no use in your continuing to live in this way, for

the more enraged you become against each other the worse it is for

you.”

Again was the wise advice of the old man rejected.

At the beginning of the seventh year of the existence of the feud it

happened that a daughter-in-law of Ivan’s was present at a marriage. At

the wedding feast she openly accused Gavryl of stealing a horse. Gavryl

was intoxicated at the time and was in no mood to stand the insult, so

in retaliation he struck the woman a terrific blow, which confined her

to her bed for more than a week. The woman being in delicate health,

the worst results were feared.

Ivan, glad of a fresh opportunity to harass his neighbor, lodged a

formal complaint before the district-attorney, hoping to rid himself

forever of Gavryl by having him sent to Siberia.

On examining the complaint the district-attorney would not consider it,

as by that time the injured woman was walking about and as well as

ever.

Thus again Ivan was disappointed in obtaining his revenge, and, not

being satisfied with the district-attorney’s decision, had the case

transferred to the court, where he used all possible means to push his

suit. To secure the favor of the _starshina_ (village mayor) he made

him a present of half a gallon of sweet vodka; and to the mayor’s

_pisar_ (secretary) also he gave presents. By this means he succeeded

in securing a verdict against Gavryl. The sentence was that Gavryl was

to receive twenty lashes on his bare back, and the punishment was to be

administered in the yard which surrounded the court-house.

When Ivan heard the sentence read he looked triumphantly at Gavryl to

see what effect it would produce on him. Gavryl turned very white on

hearing that he was to be treated with such indignity, and turning his

back on the assembly left the room without uttering a word.

Ivan followed him out, and as he reached his horse he heard Gavryl

saying: “Very well; my spine will burn from the lashes, but something

will burn with greater fierceness in Ivan’s household before long.”

Ivan, on hearing these words, instantly returned to the court, and

going up to the judges said: “Oh! just judges, he threatens to burn my

house and all it contains.”

A messenger was immediately sent in search of Gavryl, who was soon

found and again brought into the presence of the judges.

“Is it true,” they asked, “that you said you would burn Ivan’s house

and all it contained?”

Gavryl replied: “I did not say anything of the kind. You may give me as

many lashes as you please—that is, if you have the power to do so. It

seems to me that I alone have to suffer for the truth, while he,”

pointing to Ivan, “is allowed to do and say what he pleases.” Gavryl

wished to say something more, but his lips trembled, and the words

refused to come; so in silence he turned his face toward the wall.

The sight of so much suffering moved even the judges to pity, and,

becoming alarmed at Gavryl’s continued silence, they said, “He may do

both his neighbor and himself some frightful injury.”

“See here, my brothers,” said one feeble old judge, looking at Ivan and

Gavryl as he spoke, “I think you had better try to arrange this matter

peaceably. You, brother Gavryl, did wrong to strike a woman who was in

delicate health. It was a lucky thing for you that God had mercy on you

and that the woman did not die, for if she had I know not what dire

misfortune might have overtaken you! It will not do either of you any

good to go on living as you are at present. Go, Gavryl, and make

friends with Ivan; I am sure he will forgive you, and we will set aside

the verdict just given.”

The secretary on hearing this said: “It is impossible to do this on the

present case. According to Article 117 this matter has gone too far to

be settled peaceably now, as the verdict has been rendered and must be

enforced.”

But the judges would not listen to the secretary, saying to him: “You

talk altogether too much. You must remember that the first thing is to

fulfill God’s command to ‘Love thy neighbor as thyself,’ and all will

be well with you.”

Thus with kind words the judges tried to reconcile the two peasants.

Their words fell on stony ground, however, for Gavryl would not listen

to them.

“I am fifty years old,” said Gavryl, “and have a son married, and never

from my birth has the lash been applied to my back; but now this bear

Ivan has secured a verdict against me which condemns me to receive

twenty lashes, and I am forced to bow to this decision and suffer the

shame of a public beating. Well, he will have cause to remember this.”

At this Gavryl’s voice trembled and he stopped speaking, and turning

his back on the judges took his departure.

It was about ten versts’ distance from the court to the homes of the

neighbors, and this Ivan travelled late. The women had already gone out

for the cattle. He unharnessed his horse and put everything in its

place, and then went into the _izba_ (room), but found no one there.

The men had not yet returned from their work in the field and the women

had gone to look for the cattle, so that all about the place was quiet.

Going into the room, Ivan seated himself on a wooden bench and soon

became lost in thought. He remembered how, when Gavryl first heard the

sentence which had been passed upon him, he grew very pale, and turned

his face to the wall, all the while remaining silent.

Ivan’s heart ached when he thought of the disgrace which he had been

the means of bringing upon Gavryl, and he wondered how he would feel if

the same sentence had been passed upon him. His thoughts were

interrupted by the coughing of his father, who was lying on the oven.

The old man, on seeing Ivan, came down off the oven, and slowly

approaching his son seated himself on the bench beside him, looking at

him as though ashamed. He continued to cough as he leaned on the table

and said, “Well, did they sentence him?”

“Yes, they sentenced him to receive twenty lashes,” replied Ivan.

On hearing this the old man sorrowfully shook his head, and said: “This

is very bad, Ivan, and what is the meaning of it all? It is indeed very

bad, but not so bad for Gavryl as for yourself. Well, suppose his

sentence _is_ carried out, and he gets the twenty lashes, what will it

benefit you?”

“He will not again strike a woman,” Ivan replied.

“What is it he will not do? He does not do anything worse than what you

are constantly doing!”

This conversation enraged Ivan, and he shouted: “Well, what did he do?

He beat a woman nearly to death, and even now he threatens to burn my

house! Must I bow to him for all this?”

The old man sighed deeply as he said: “You, Ivan, are strong and free

to go wherever you please, while I have been lying for years on the

oven. You think that you know everything and that I do not know

anything. No! you are still a child, and as such you cannot see that a

kind of madness controls your actions and blinds your sight. The sins

of others are ever before you, while you resolutely keep your own

behind your back. I know that what Gavryl did was wrong, but if he

alone should do wrong there would be no evil in the world. Do you think

that all the evil in the world is the work of one man alone? No! it

requires two persons to work much evil in the world. You see only the

bad in Gavryl’s character, but you are blind to the evil that is in

your own nature. If he alone were bad and you good, then there would be

no wrong.”

The old man, after a pause, continued: “Who tore Gavryl’s beard? Who

destroyed his heaps of rye? Who dragged him into court?—and yet you try

to put all the blame on his shoulders. You are behaving very badly

yourself, and for that reason you are wrong. I did not act in such a

manner, and certainly I never taught you to do so. I lived in peace

with Gavryl’s father all the time we were neighbors. We were always the

best of friends. If he was without flour his wife would come to me and

say, ‘_Diadia Frol_ [Grandfather], we need flour.’ I would then say:

‘My good woman, go to the warehouse and take as much as you want.’ If

he had no one to care for his horses I would say, ‘Go, _Ivanushka_

[diminutive of Ivan], and help him to care for them.’ If I required

anything I would go to him and say, ‘Grandfather Gordey, I need this or

that,’ and he would always reply, ‘Take just whatever you want.’ By

this means we passed an easy and peaceful life. But what is your life

compared with it? As the soldiers fought at Plevna, so are you and

Gavryl fighting all the time, only that your battles are far more

disgraceful than that fought at Plevna.”

The old man went on: “And you call this living! and what a sin it all

is! You are a peasant, and the head of the house; therefore, the

responsibility of the trouble rests with you. What an example you set

your wife and children by constantly quarrelling with your neighbor!

Only a short time since your little boy, Taraska, was cursing his aunt

Arina, and his mother only laughed at it, saying, ‘What a bright child

he is!’ Is that right? You are to blame for all this. You should think

of the salvation of your soul. Is that the way to do it? You say one

unkind word to me and I will reply with two. You will give me one slap

in the face, and I will retaliate with two slaps. No, my son; Christ

did not teach us foolish people to act in such a way. If any one should

say an unkind word to you it is better not to answer at all; but if you

_do_ reply do it kindly, and his conscience will accuse him, and he

will regret his unkindness to you. This is the way Christ taught us to

live. He tells us that if a person smite us on the one cheek we should

offer unto him the other. That is Christ’s command to us, and we should

follow it. You should therefore subdue your pride. Am I not right?”

Ivan remained silent, but his father’s words had sunk deep into his

heart.

The old man coughed and continued: “Do you think Christ thought us

wicked? Did he not die that we might be saved? Now you think only of

this earthly life. Are you better or worse for thinking alone of it?

Are you better or worse for having begun that Plevna battle? Think of

your expense at court and the time lost in going back and forth, and

what have you gained? Your sons have reached manhood, and are able now

to work for you. You are therefore at liberty to enjoy life and be

happy. With the assistance of your children you could reach a high

state of prosperity. But now your property instead of increasing is

gradually growing less, and why? It is the result of your pride. When

it becomes necessary for you and your boys to go to the field to work,

your enemy instead summons you to appear at court or before some kind

of judicial person. If you do not plow at the proper time and sow at

the proper time mother earth will not yield up her products, and you

and your children will be left destitute. Why did your oats fail this

year? When did you sow them? Were you not quarrelling with your

neighbor instead of attending to your work? You have just now returned

from the town, where you have been the means of having your neighbor

humiliated. You have succeeded in getting him sentenced, but in the end

the punishment will fall on your own shoulders. Oh! my child, it would

be better for you to attend to your work on the farm and train your

boys to become good farmers and honest men. If any one offend you

forgive him for Christ’s sake, and then prosperity will smile on your

work and a light and happy feeling will fill your heart.”

Ivan still remained silent.

The old father in a pleading voice continued: “Take an old man’s

advice. Go and harness your horse, drive back to the court, and

withdraw all these complaints against your neighbor. To-morrow go to

him, offer to make peace in Christ’s name, and invite him to your

house. It will be a holy day (the birth of the Virgin Mary). Get out

the samovar and have some vodka, and over both forgive and forget each

other’s sins, promising not to transgress in the future, and advise

your women and children to do the same.”

Ivan heaved a deep sigh but felt easier in his heart, as he thought:

“The old man speaks the truth;” yet he was in doubt as to how he would

put his father’s advice into practice.

The old man, surmising his uncertainty, said to Ivan: “Go, Ivanushka;

do not delay. Extinguish the fire in the beginning, before it grows

large, for then it may be impossible.”

Ivan’s father wished to say more to him, but was prevented by the

arrival of the women, who came into the room chattering like so many

magpies. They had already heard of Gavryl’s sentence, and of how he

threatened to set fire to Ivan’s house. They found out all about it,

and in telling it to their neighbors added their own versions of the

story, with the usual exaggeration. Meeting in the pasture-ground, they

proceeded to quarrel with Gavryl’s women. They related how the latter’s

daughter-in-law had threatened to secure the influence of the manager

of a certain noble’s estate in behalf of his friend Gavryl; also that

the school-teacher was writing a petition to the Czar himself against

Ivan, explaining in detail his theft of the perchbolt and partial

destruction of Gavryl’s garden—declaring that half of Ivan’s land was

to be given to them.

Ivan listened calmly to their stories, but his anger was soon aroused

once more, when he abandoned his intention of making peace with Gavryl.

As Ivan was always busy about the household, he did not stop to speak

to the wrangling women, but immediately left the room, directing his

steps toward the barn. Before getting through with his work the sun had

set and the boys had returned from their plowing. Ivan met them and

asked about their work, helping them to put things in order and leaving

the broken horse-collar aside to be repaired. He intended to perform

some other duties, but it became too dark and he was obliged to leave

them till the next day. He fed the cattle, however, and opened the gate

that Taraska might take his horses to pasture for the night, after

which he closed it again and went into the house for his supper.

By this time he had forgotten all about Gavryl and what his father had

said to him. Yet, just as he touched the door-knob, he heard sounds of

quarrelling proceeding from his neighbor’s house.

“What do I want with that devil?” shouted Gavryl to some one. “He

deserves to be killed!”

Ivan stopped and listened for a moment, when he shook his head

threateningly and entered the room. When he came in, the apartment was

already lighted. His daughter-in-law was working with her loom, while

the old woman was preparing the supper. The eldest son was twining

strings for his _lapti_ (peasant’s shoes made of strips of bark from

the linden-tree). The other son was sitting by the table reading a

book. The room presented a pleasant appearance, everything being in

order and the inmates apparently gay and happy—the only dark shadow

being that cast over the household by Ivan’s trouble with his neighbor.

Ivan came in very cross, and, angrily throwing aside a cat which lay

sleeping on the bench, cursed the women for having misplaced a pail. He

looked very sad and serious, and, seating himself in a corner of the

room, proceeded to repair the horse-collar. He could not forget Gavryl,

however—the threatening words he had used in the court-room and those

which Ivan had just heard.

Presently Taraska came in, and after having his supper, put on his

sheepskin coat, and, taking some bread with him, returned to watch over

his horses for the night. His eldest brother wished to accompany him,

but Ivan himself arose and went with him as far as the porch. The night

was dark and cloudy and a strong wind was blowing, which produced a

peculiar whistling sound that was most unpleasant to the ear. Ivan

helped his son to mount his horse, which, followed by a colt, started

off on a gallop.

Ivan stood for a few moments looking around him and listening to the

clatter of the horse’s hoofs as Taraska rode down the village street.

He heard him meet other boys on horseback, who rode quite as well as

Taraska, and soon all were lost in the darkness.

Ivan remained standing by the gate in a gloomy mood, as he was unable

to banish from his mind the harassing thoughts of Gavryl, which the

latter’s menacing words had inspired: “Something will burn with greater

fierceness in Ivan’s household before long.”

“He is so desperate,” thought Ivan, “that he may set fire to my house

regardless of the danger to his own. At present everything is dry, and

as the wind is so high he may sneak from the back of his own building,

start a fire, and get away unseen by any of us.

“He may burn and steal without being found out, and thus go unpunished.

I wish I could catch him.”

This thought so worried Ivan that he decided not to return to his

house, but went out and stood on the street-corner.

“I guess,” thought Ivan to himself, “I will take a walk around the

premises and examine everything carefully, for who knows what he may be

tempted to do?”

Ivan moved very cautiously round to the back of his buildings, not

making the slightest noise, and scarcely daring to breathe. Just as he

reached a corner of the house he looked toward the fence, and it seemed

to him that he saw something moving, and that it was slowly creeping

toward the corner of the house opposite to where he was standing. He

stepped back quickly and hid himself in the shadow of the building.

Ivan stood and listened, but all was quiet. Not a sound could be heard

but the moaning of the wind through the branches of the trees, and the

rustling of the leaves as it caught them up and whirled them in all

directions. So dense was the darkness that it was at first impossible

for Ivan to see more than a few feet beyond where he stood.

After a time, however, his sight becoming accustomed to the gloom, he

was enabled to see for a considerable distance. The plow and his other

farming implements stood just where he had placed them. He could see

also the opposite corner of the house.

He looked in every direction, but no one was in sight, and he thought

to himself that his imagination must have played him some trick,

leading him to believe that some one was moving when there really was

no one there.

Still, Ivan was not satisfied, and decided to make a further

examination of the premises. As on the previous occasion, he moved so

very cautiously that he could not hear even the sound of his own

footsteps. He had taken the precaution to remove his shoes, that he

might step the more noiselessly. When he reached the corner of the barn

it again seemed to him that he saw something moving, this time near the

plow; but it quickly disappeared. By this time Ivan’s heart was beating

very fast, and he was standing in a listening attitude when a sudden

flash of light illumined the spot, and he could distinctly see the

figure of a man seated on his haunches with his back turned toward him,

and in the act of lighting a bunch of straw which he held in his hand!

Ivan’s heart began to beat yet faster, and he became terribly excited,

walking up and down with rapid strides, but without making a noise.

Ivan said: “Well, now, he cannot get away, for he will be caught in the

very act.”

Ivan had taken a few more steps when suddenly a bright light flamed up,

but not in the same spot in which he had seen the figure of the man

sitting. Gavryl had lighted the straw, and running to the barn held it

under the edge of the roof, which began to burn fiercely; and by the

light of the fire he could distinctly see his neighbor standing.

As an eagle springs at a skylark, so sprang Ivan at Gavryl, saying: “I

will tear you into pieces! You shall not get away from me this time!”

But “Gavryl the Lame,” hearing footsteps, wrenched himself free from

Ivan’s grasp and ran like a hare past the buildings.

Ivan, now terribly excited, shouted, “You shall not escape me!” and

started in pursuit; but just as he reached him and was about to grasp

the collar of his coat, Gavryl succeeded in jumping to one side, and

Ivan’s coat became entangled in something and he was thrown violently

to the ground. Jumping quickly to his feet he shouted, “_Karaool!

derji!_” (watch! catch!)

While Ivan was regaining his feet Gavryl succeeded in reaching his

house, but Ivan followed so quickly that he caught up with him before

he could enter. Just as he was about to grasp him he was struck on the

head with some hard substance. He had been hit on the temple as with a

stone. The blow was struck by Gavryl, who had picked up an oaken stave,

and with it gave Ivan a terrible blow on the head.

Ivan was stunned, and bright sparks danced before his eyes, while he

swayed from side to side like a drunken man, until finally all became

dark and he sank to the ground unconscious.

When he recovered his senses, Gavryl was nowhere to be seen, but all

around him was as light as day. Strange sounds proceeded from the

direction of his house, and turning his face that way he saw that his

barns were on fire. The rear parts of both were already destroyed, and

the flames were leaping toward the front. Fire, smoke, and bits of

burning straw were being rapidly whirled by the high wind over to where

his house stood, and he expected every moment to see it burst into

flames.

“What is this, brother?” Ivan cried out, as he beat his thighs with his

hands. “I should have stopped to snatch the bunch of burning straw,

and, throwing it on the ground, should have extinguished it with my

feet!”

Ivan tried to cry out and arouse his people, but his lips refused to

utter a word. He next tried to run, but he could not move his feet, and

his legs seemed to twist themselves around each other. After several

attempts he succeeded in taking one or two steps, when he again began

to stagger and gasp for breath. It was some moments before he made

another attempt to move, but after considerable exertion he finally

reached the barn, the rear of which was by this time entirely consumed;

and the corner of his house had already caught fire. Dense volumes of

smoke began to pour out of the room, which made it difficult to

approach.

A crowd of peasants had by this time gathered, but they found it

impossible to save their homes, so they carried everything which they

could to a place of safety. The cattle they drove into neighboring

pastures and left some one to care for them.

The wind carried the sparks from Ivan’s house to Gavryl’s, and it, too,

took fire and was consumed. The wind continued to increase with great

fury, and the flames spread to both sides of the street, until in a

very short time more than half the village was burned.

The members of Ivan’s household had great difficulty in getting out of

the burning building, but the neighbors rescued the old man and carried

him to a place of safety, while the women escaped in only their

night-clothes. Everything was burned, including the cattle and all the

farm implements. The women lost their trunks, which were filled with

quantities of clothing, the accumulation of years. The storehouse and

all the provisions perished in the flames, not even the chickens being

saved.

Gavryl, however, more fortunate than Ivan, saved his cattle and a few

other things.

The village was burning all night.

Ivan stood near his home, gazing sadly at the burning building, and he

kept constantly repeating to himself: “I should have taken away the

bunch of burning straw, and have stamped out the fire with my feet.”

But when he saw his home fall in a smouldering heap, in spite of the

terrible heat he sprang into the midst of it and carried out a charred

log. The women seeing him, and fearing that he would lose his life,

called to him to come back, but he would not pay any attention to them

and went a second time to get a log. Still weak from the terrible blow

which Gavryl had given him, he was overcome by the heat, and fell into

the midst of the burning mass. Fortunately, his eldest son saw him

fall, and rushing into the fire succeeded in getting hold of him and

carrying him out of it. Ivan’s hair, beard, and clothing were burned

entirely off. His hands were also frightfully injured, but he seemed

indifferent to pain.

“Grief drove him crazy,” the people said.

The fire was growing less, but Ivan still stood where he could see it,

and kept repeating to himself, “I should have taken,” etc.

The morning after the fire the _starosta_ (village elder) sent his son

to Ivan to tell him that the old man, his father, was dying, and wanted

to see him to bid him good-bye.

In his grief Ivan had forgotten all about his father, and could not

understand what was being said to him. In a dazed way he asked: “What

father? Whom does he want?”

The elder’s son again repeated his father’s message to Ivan. “Your aged

parent is at our house dying, and he wants to see you and bid you

good-bye. Won’t you go now, uncle Ivan?” the boy said.

Finally Ivan understood, and followed the elder’s son.

When Ivan’s father was carried from the oven, he was slightly injured

by a big bunch of burning straw falling on him just as he reached the

street. To insure his safety he was removed to the elder’s house, which

stood a considerable distance from his late home, and where it was not

likely that the fire would reach it.

When Ivan arrived at the elder’s home he found only the latter’s wife

and children, who were all seated on the brick oven. The old man was

lying on a bench holding a lighted candle in his hand (a Russian custom

when a person is dying). Hearing a noise, he turned his face toward the

door, and when he saw it was his son he tried to move. He motioned for

Ivan to come nearer, and when he did so he whispered in a trembling

voice: “Well, Ivanushka, did I not tell you before what would be the

result of this sad affair? Who set the village on fire?”

“He, he, _batiushka_ [little father]; he did it. I caught him. He

placed the bunch of burning straw to the barn in my presence. Instead

of running after him, I should have snatched the bunch of burning straw

and throwing it on the ground have stamped it out with my feet; and

then there would have been no fire.”

“Ivan,” said the old man, “death is fast approaching me, and remember

that you also will have to die. Who did this dreadful thing? Whose is

the sin?”

Ivan gazed at the noble face of his dying father and was silent. His

heart was too full for utterance.

“In the presence of God,” the old man continued, “whose is the sin?”

It was only now that the truth began to dawn upon Ivan’s mind, and that

he realized how foolish he had acted. He sobbed bitterly, and fell on

his knees before his father, and, crying like a child, said:

“My dear father, forgive me, for Christ’s sake, for I am guilty before

God and before you!”

The old man transferred the lighted candle from his right hand to the

left, and, raising the former to his forehead, tried to make the sign

of the cross, but owing to weakness was unable to do so.

“Glory to Thee, O Lord! Glory to Thee!” he exclaimed; and turning his

dim eyes toward his son, he said: “See here, Ivanushka! Ivanushka, my

dear son!”

“What, my dear father?” Ivan asked.

“What are you going to do,” replied the old man, “now that you have no

home?”

Ivan cried and said: “I do not know how we shall live now.”

The old man closed his eyes and made a movement with his lips, as if

gathering his feeble strength for a final effort. Slowly opening his

eyes, he whispered:

“Should you live according to God’s commands you will be happy and

prosperous again.”

The old man was now silent for awhile and then, smiling sadly, he

continued:

“See here, Ivanushka, keep silent concerning this trouble, and do not

tell who set the village on fire. Forgive one sin of your neighbor’s,

and God will forgive two of yours.”

Grasping the candle with both hands, Ivan’s father heaved a deep sigh,

and, stretching himself out on his back, yielded up the ghost.

Ivan for once accepted his father’s advice. He did not betray Gavryl,

and no one ever learned the origin of the fire.

Ivan’s heart became more kindly disposed toward his old enemy, feeling

that much of the fault in connection with this sad affair rested with

himself.

Gavryl was greatly surprised that Ivan did not denounce him before all

the villagers, and at first he stood in much fear of him, but he soon

afterward overcame this feeling.

The two peasants ceased to quarrel, and their families followed their

example. While they were building new houses, both families lived

beneath the same roof, and when they moved into their respective homes,

Ivan and Gavryl lived on as good terms as their fathers had done before

them.

Ivan remembered his dying father’s command, and took deeply to heart

the evident warning of God that _a fire should be extinguished in the

beginning_. If any one wronged him he did not seek revenge, but instead

made every effort to settle the matter peaceably. If any one spoke to

him unkindly, he did not answer in the same way, but replied softly,

and tried to persuade the person not to speak evil. He taught the women

and children of his household to do the same.

Ivan Scherbakoff was now a reformed man.

He lived well and peacefully, and again became prosperous.

Let us, therefore, have peace, live in brotherly love and kindness, and

we will be happy.

“POLIKUSHKA;”

or, _The Lot of a Wicked Court Servant_.

CHAPTER I.

Polikey was a court man—one of the staff of servants belonging to the

court household of a _boyarinia_ (lady of the nobility).

He held a very insignificant position on the estate, and lived in a

rather poor, small house with his wife and children.

The house was built by the deceased nobleman whose widow he still

continued to serve, and may be described as follows: The four walls

surrounding the one _izba_ (room) were built of stone, and the interior

was ten yards square. A Russian stove stood in the centre, around which

was a free passage. Each corner was fenced off as a separate inclosure

to the extent of several feet, and the one nearest to the door (the

smallest of all) was known as “Polikey’s corner.” Elsewhere in the room

stood the bed (with quilt, sheet, and cotton pillows), the cradle (with

a baby lying therein), and the three-legged table, on which the meals

were prepared and the family washing was done. At the latter also

Polikey was at work on the preparation of some materials for use in his

profession—that of an amateur veterinary surgeon. A calf, some hens,

the family clothes and household utensils, together with seven persons,

filled the little home to the utmost of its capacity. It would indeed

have been almost impossible for them to move around had it not been for

the convenience of the stove, on which some of them slept at night, and

which served as a table in the day-time.

It seemed hard to realize how so many persons managed to live in such

close quarters.

Polikey’s wife, Akulina, did the washing, spun and wove, bleached her

linen, cooked and baked, and found time also to quarrel and gossip with

her neighbors.

The monthly allowance of food which they received from the noblewoman’s

house was amply sufficient for the whole family, and there was always

enough meal left to make mash for the cow. Their fuel they got free,

and likewise the food for the cattle. In addition they were given a

small piece of land on which to raise vegetables. They had a cow, a

calf, and a number of chickens to care for.

Polikey was employed in the stables to take care of two stallions, and,

when necessary, to bleed the horses and cattle and clean their hoofs.

In his treatment of the animals he used syringes, plasters, and various

other remedies and appliances of his own invention. For these services

he received whatever provisions were required by his family, and a

certain sum of money—all of which would have been sufficient to enable

them to live comfortably and even happily, if their hearts had not been

filled with the shadow of a great sorrow.

This shadow darkened the lives of the entire family.

Polikey, while young, was employed in a horse-breeding establishment in

a neighboring village. The head stableman was a notorious horse-thief,

known far and wide as a great rogue, who, for his many misdeeds, was

finally exiled to Siberia. Under his instruction Polikey underwent a

course of training, and, being but a boy, was easily induced to perform

many evil deeds. He became so expert in the various kinds of wickedness

practiced by his teacher that, though he many times would gladly have

abandoned his evil ways, he could not, owing to the great hold these

early-formed habits had upon him. His father and mother died when he

was but a child, and he had no one to point out to him the paths of

virtue.

In addition to his other numerous shortcomings, Polikey was fond of

strong drink. He also had a habit of appropriating other people’s

property, when the opportunity offered of his doing so without being

seen. Collar-straps, padlocks, perch-bolts, and things even of greater

value belonging to others found their way with remarkable rapidity and

in great quantities to Polikey’s home. He did not, however, keep such

things for his own use, but sold them whenever he could find a

purchaser. His payment consisted chiefly of whiskey, though sometimes

he received cash.

This sort of employment, as his neighbors said, was both light and

profitable; it required neither education nor labor. It had one

drawback, however, which was calculated to reconcile his victims to

their losses: Though he could for a time have all his needs supplied

without expending either labor or money, there was always the

possibility of his methods being discovered; and this result was sure

to be followed by a long term of imprisonment. This impending danger

made life a burden for Polikey and his family.

Such a setback indeed very nearly happened to Polikey early in his

career. He married while still young, and God gave him much happiness.

His wife, who was a shepherd’s daughter, was a strong, intelligent,

hard-working woman. She bore him many children, each of whom was said

to be better than the preceding one.

Polikey still continued to steal, but once was caught with some small

articles belonging to others in his possession. Among them was a pair

of leather reins, the property of another peasant, who beat him

severely and reported him to his mistress.

From that time on Polikey was an object of suspicion, and he was twice

again detected in similar escapades. By this time the people began to

abuse him, and the clerk of the court threatened to recruit him into

the army as a soldier (which is regarded by the peasants as a great

punishment and disgrace). His noble mistress severely reprimanded him;

his wife wept from grief for his downfall, and everything went from bad

to worse.

Polikey, notwithstanding his weakness, was a good-natured sort of man,

but his love of strong drink had so overcome every moral instinct that

at times he was scarcely responsible for his actions. This habit he

vainly endeavored to overcome. It often happened that when he returned

home intoxicated, his wife, losing all patience, roundly cursed him and

cruelly beat him. At times he would cry like a child, and bemoan his

fate, saying: “Unfortunate man that I am, what shall I do? _Let my eyes

burst into pieces_ if I do not forever give up the vile habit! I will

not again touch vodka.”

In spite of all his promises of reform, but a short period (perhaps a

month) would elapse when Polikey would again mysteriously disappear

from his home and be lost for several days on a spree.

“From what source does he get the money he spends so freely?” the

neighbors inquired of each other, as they sadly shook their heads.

One of his most unfortunate exploits in the matter of stealing was in

connection with a clock which belonged to the estate of his mistress.

The clock stood in the private office of the noblewoman, and was so old

as to have outlived its usefulness, and was simply kept as an heirloom.

It so happened that Polikey went into the office one day when no one

was present but himself, and, seeing the old clock, it seemed to

possess a peculiar fascination for him, and he speedily transferred it

to his person. He carried it to a town not far from the village, where

he very readily found a purchaser.

As if purposely to secure his punishment, it happened that the

storekeeper to whom he sold it proved to be a relative of one of the

court servants, and who, when he visited his friend on the next

holiday, related all about his purchase of the clock.

An investigation was immediately instituted, and all the details of

Polikey’s transaction were brought to light and reported to his noble

mistress. He was called into her presence, and, when confronted with

the story of the theft, broke down and confessed all. He fell on his

knees before the noblewoman and plead with her for mercy. The

kind-hearted lady lectured him about God, the salvation of his soul,

and his future life. She talked to him also about the misery and

disgrace he brought upon his family, and altogether so worked upon his

feelings that he cried like a child. In conclusion his kind mistress

said: “I will forgive you this time on the condition that you promise

faithfully to reform, and never again to take what does not belong to

you.”

Polikey, still weeping, replied: “I will never steal again in all my

life, and if I break my promise may the earth open and swallow me up,

and let my body be burned with red-hot irons!”

Polikey returned to his home, and throwing himself on the oven spent

the entire day weeping and repeating the promise made to his mistress.

From that time on he was not again caught stealing, but his life became

extremely sad, for he was regarded with suspicion by every one and

pointed to as a thief.

When the time came round for securing recruits for the army, all the

peasants singled out Polikey as the first to be taken. The

superintendent was especially anxious to get rid of him, and went to

his mistress to induce her to have him sent away. The kind-hearted and

merciful woman, remembering the peasant’s repentance, refused to grant

the superintendent’s request, and told him he must take some other man

in his stead.

CHAPTER II.

One evening Polikey was sitting on his bed beside the table, preparing

some medicine for the cattle, when suddenly the door was thrown wide

open, and Aksiutka, a young girl from the court, rushed in. Almost out

of breath, she said: “My mistress has ordered you, Polikey _Illitch_

[son of Ilia], to come up to the court at once!”

The girl was standing and still breathing heavily from her late

exertion as she continued: “Egor Mikhailovitch, the superintendent, has

been to see our lady about having you drafted into the army, and,

Polikey Illitch, your name was mentioned among others. Our lady has

sent me to tell you to come up to the court immediately.”

As soon as Aksiutka had delivered her message she left the room in the

same abrupt manner in which she had entered.

Akulina, without saying a word, got up and brought her husband’s boots

to him. They were poor, worn-out things which some soldier had given

him, and his wife did not glance at him as she handed them to him.

“Are you going to change your shirt, Illitch?” she asked, at last.

“No,” replied Polikey.

Akulina did not once look at him all the time he was putting on his

boots and preparing to go to the court. Perhaps, after all, it was

better that she did not do so. His face was very pale and his lips

trembled. He slowly combed his hair and was about to depart without

saying a word, when his wife stopped him to arrange the ribbon on his

shirt, and, after toying a little with his coat, she put his hat on for

him and he left the little home.

Polikey’s next-door neighbors were a joiner and his wife. A thin

partition only separated the two families, and each could hear what the

other said and did. Soon after Polikey’s departure a woman was heard to

say: “Well, Polikey Illitch, so your mistress has sent for you!”

The voice was that of the joiner’s wife on the other side of the

partition. Akulina and the woman had quarrelled that morning about some

trifling thing done by one of Polikey’s children, and it afforded her

the greatest pleasure to learn that her neighbor had been summoned into

the presence of his noble mistress. She looked upon such a circumstance

as a bad omen. She continued talking to herself and said: “Perhaps she

wants to send him to the town to make some purchases for her household.

I did not suppose she would select such a faithful man as you are to

perform such a service for her. If it should prove that she _does_ want

to send you to the next town, just buy me a quarter-pound of tea. Will

you, Polikey Illitch?”

Poor Akulina, on hearing the joiner’s wife talking so unkindly of her

husband, could hardly suppress the tears, and, the tirade continuing,

she at last became angry, and wished she could in some way punish her.

Forgetting her neighbor’s unkindness, her thoughts soon turned in

another direction, and glancing at her sleeping children she said to

herself that they might soon be orphans and she herself a soldier’s

widow. This thought greatly distressed her, and burying her face in her

hands she seated herself on the bed, where several of her progeny were

fast asleep. Presently a little voice interrupted her meditations by

crying out, “_Mamushka_ [little mother], you are crushing me,” and the

child pulled her nightdress from under her mother’s arms.

Akulina, with her head still resting on her hands, said: “Perhaps it

would be better if we all should die. I only seem to have brought you

into the world to suffer sorrow and misery.”

Unable longer to control her grief, she burst into violent weeping,

which served to increase the amusement of the joiner’s wife, who had

not forgotten the morning’s squabble, and she laughed loudly at her

neighbor’s woe.

CHAPTER III.

About half an hour had passed when the youngest child began to cry and

Akulina arose to feed it. She had by this time ceased to weep, and

after feeding the infant she again fell into her old position, with her

face buried in her hands. She was very pale, but this only increased

her beauty. After a time she raised her head, and staring at the

burning candle she began to question herself as to why she had married,

and as to the reason that the Czar required so many soldiers.

Presently she heard steps outside, and knew that her husband was

returning. She hurriedly wiped away the last traces of her tears as she

arose to let him pass into the centre of the room.

Polikey made his appearance with a look of triumph on his face, threw

his hat on the bed, and hastily removed his coat; but not a word did he

utter.

Akulina, unable to restrain her impatience, asked, “Well, what did she

want with you?”

“Pshaw!” he replied, “it is very well known that Polikushka is

considered the worst man in the village; but when it comes to business

of importance, who is selected then? Why, Polikushka, of course.”

“What kind of business?” Akulina timidly inquired.

But Polikey was in no hurry to answer her question. He lighted his pipe

with a very imposing air, and spit several times on the floor before he

replied.

Still retaining his pompous manner, he said, “She has ordered me to go

to a certain merchant in the town and collect a considerable sum of

money.”

“You to collect money?” questioned Akulina.

Polikey only shook his head and smiled significantly, saying:

“‘You,’ the mistress said to me, ‘are a man resting under a grave

suspicion—a man who is considered unsafe to trust in any capacity; but

I have faith in you, and will intrust you with this important business

of mine in preference to any one else.’”

Polikey related all this in a loud voice, so that his neighbor might

hear what he had to say.

“‘You promised me to reform,’ my noble mistress said to me, ‘and I will

be the first to show you how much faith I have in your promise. I want

you to ride into town, and, going to the principal merchant there,

collect a sum of money from him and bring it to me.’ I said to my

mistress: ‘Everything you order shall be done. I will only too gladly

obey your slightest wish.’

“Then my mistress said: ‘Do you understand, Polikey, that your future

lot depends upon the faithful performance of this duty I impose upon

you?’ I replied: ‘Yes, I understand everything, and feel that I will

succeed in performing acceptably any task which you may impose upon me.

I have been accused of every kind of evil deed that it is possible to

charge a man with, but I have never done anything seriously wrong

against you, your honor.’ In this way I talked to our mistress until I

succeeded in convincing her that my repentance was sincere, and she

became greatly softened toward me, saying, ‘If you are successful I

will give you the first place at the court.’”

“And how much money are you to collect?” inquired Akulina.

“Fifteen hundred rubles,” carelessly answered Polikey.

Akulina sadly shook her head as she asked, “When are you to start?”

“She ordered me to leave here to-morrow,” Polikey replied. “‘Take any

horse you please,’ she said. ‘Come to the office, and I will see you

there and wish you God-speed on your journey.’”

“Glory to Thee, O Lord!” said Akulina, as she arose and made the sign

of the cross. “God, I am sure, will bless you, Illitch,” she added, in

a whisper, so that the people on the other side of the partition could

not hear what she said, all the while holding on to his sleeve.

“Illitch,” she cried at last, excitedly, “for God’s sake promise me

that you will not touch a drop of vodka. Take an oath before God, and

kiss the cross, so that I may be sure that you will not break your

promise!”

Polikey replied in most contemptuous tones: “Do you think I will dare

to touch vodka when I shall have such a large sum of money in my care?”

“Akulina, have a clean shirt ready for the morning,” were his parting

words for the night.

So Polikey and his wife went to sleep in a happy frame of mind and full

of bright dreams for the future.

CHAPTER IV.

Very early the next morning, almost before the stars had hidden

themselves from view, there was seen standing before Polikey’s home a

low wagon, the same in which the superintendent himself used to ride;

and harnessed to it was a large-boned, dark-brown mare, called for some

unknown reason by the name of _Baraban_ (drum). Aniutka, Polikey’s

eldest daughter, in spite of the heavy rain and the cold wind which was

blowing, stood outside barefooted and held (not without some fear) the

reins in one hand, while with the other she endeavored to keep her

green and yellow overcoat wound around her body, and also to hold

Polikey’s sheepskin coat.

In the house there were the greatest noise and confusion. The morning

was still so dark that the little daylight there was failed to

penetrate through the broken panes of glass, the window being stuffed

in many places with rags and paper to exclude the cold air.

Akulina ceased from her cooking for a while and helped to get Polikey

ready for the journey. Most of the children were still in bed, very

likely as a protection against the cold, for Akulina had taken away the

big overcoat which usually covered them and had substituted a shawl of

her own. Polikey’s shirt was all ready, nice and clean, but his shoes

badly needed repairing, and this fact caused his devoted wife much

anxiety. She took from her own feet the thick woollen stockings she was

wearing, and gave them to Polikey. She then began to repair his shoes,

patching up the holes so as to protect his feet from dampness.

While this was going on he was sitting on the side of the bed with his

feet dangling over the edge, and trying to turn the sash which confined

his coat at the waist. He was anxious to look as clean as possible, and

he declared his sash looked like a dirty rope.

One of his daughters, enveloped in a sheepskin coat, was sent to a

neighbor’s house to borrow a hat.

Within Polikey’s home the greatest confusion reigned, for the court

servants were constantly arriving with innumerable small orders which

they wished Polikey to execute for them in town. One wanted needles,

another tea, another tobacco, and last came the joiner’s wife, who by

this time had prepared her samovar, and, anxious to make up the quarrel

of the previous day, brought the traveller a cup of tea.

Neighbor Nikita refused the loan of the hat, so the old one had to be

patched up for the occasion. This occupied some time, as there were

many holes in it.

Finally Polikey was all ready, and jumping on the wagon started on his

journey, after first making the sign of the cross.

At the last moment his little boy, Mishka, ran to the door, begging to

be given a short ride; and then his little daughter, Mashka, appeared

on the scene and pleaded that she, too, might have a ride, declaring

that she would be quite warm enough without furs.

Polikey stopped the horse on hearing the children, and Akulina placed

them in the wagon, together with two others belonging to a neighbor—all

anxious to have a short ride.

As Akulina helped the little ones into the wagon she took occasion to

remind Polikey of the solemn promise he had made her not to touch a

drop of vodka during the journey.

Polikey drove the children as far as the blacksmith’s place, where he

let them out of the wagon, telling them they must return home. He then

arranged his clothing, and, setting his hat firmly on his head, started

his horse on a trot.

The two children, Mishka and Mashka, both barefooted, started running

at such a rapid pace that a strange dog from another village, seeing

them flying over the road, dropped his tail between his legs and ran

home squealing.

The weather was very cold, a sharp cutting wind blowing continuously;

but this did not disturb Polikey, whose mind was engrossed with

pleasant thoughts. As he rode through the wintry blasts he kept

repeating to himself: “So I am the man they wanted to send to Siberia,

and whom they threatened to enroll as a soldier—the same man whom every

one abused, and said he was lazy, and who was pointed out as a thief

and given the meanest work on the estate to do! Now I am going to

receive a large sum of money, for which my mistress is sending me

because she trusts me. I am also riding in the same wagon that the

superintendent himself uses when he is riding as a representative of

the court. I have the same harness, leather horse-collar, reins, and

all the other gear.”

Polikey, filled with pride at thought of the mission with which he had

been intrusted, drew himself up with an air of pride, and, fixing his

old hat more firmly on his head, buttoned his coat tightly about him

and urged his horse to greater speed.

“Just to think,” he continued; “I shall have in my possession three

thousand half-rubles [the peasant manner of speaking of money so as to

make it appear a larger sum than it really is], and will carry them in

my bosom. If I wished to I might run away to Odessa instead of taking

the money to my mistress. But no; I will not do that. I will surely

carry the money straight to the one who has been kind enough to trust

me.”

When Polikey reached the first _kabak_ (tavern) he found that from long

habit the mare was naturally turning her head toward it; but he would

not allow her to stop, though money had been given him to purchase both

food and drink. Striking the animal a sharp blow with the whip, he

passed by the tavern. The performance was repeated when he reached the

next kabak, which looked very inviting; but he resolutely set his face

against entering, and passed on.

About noon he arrived at his destination, and getting down from the

wagon approached the gate of the merchant’s house where the servants of

the court always stopped. Opening it he led the mare through, and

(after unharnessing her) fed her. This done, he next entered the house

and had dinner with the merchant’s workingman, and to them he related

what an important mission he had been sent on, making himself very

amusing by the pompous air which he assumed. Dinner over, he carried a

letter to the merchant which the noblewoman had given him to deliver.

The merchant, knowing thoroughly the reputation which Polikey bore,

felt doubtful of trusting him with so much money, and somewhat

anxiously inquired if he really had received orders to carry so many

rubles.

Polikey tried to appear offended at this question, but did not succeed,

and he only smiled.

The merchant, after reading the letter a second time and being

convinced that all was right, gave Polikey the money, which he put in

his bosom for safe-keeping.

On his way to the house he did not once stop at any of the shops he

passed. The clothing establishments possessed no attractions for him,

and after he had safely passed them all he stood for a moment, feeling

very pleased that he had been able to withstand temptation, and then

went on his way.

“I have money enough to buy up everything,” he said; “but I will not do

so.”

The numerous commissions which he had received compelled him to go to

the bazaar. There he bought only what had been ordered, but he could

not resist the temptation to ask the price of a very handsome

sheep-skin coat which attracted his attention. The merchant to whom he

spoke looked at Polikey and smiled, not believing that he had

sufficient money to purchase such an expensive coat. But Polikey,

pointing to his breast, said that he could buy out the whole shop if he

wished to. He thereupon ordered the shop-keeper to take his measure. He

tried the coat on and looked himself over carefully, testing the

quality and blowing upon the hair to see that none of it came out.

Finally, heaving a deep sigh, he took it off.

“The price is too high,” he said. “If you could let me have it for

fifteen rubles—”

But the merchant cut him short by snatching the coat from him and

throwing it angrily to one side.

Polikey left the bazaar and returned to the merchant’s house in high

spirits.

After supper he went out and fed the mare, and prepared everything for

the night. Returning to the house he got up on the stove to rest, and

while there he took out the envelope which contained the money and

looked long and earnestly at it. He could not read, but asked one of

those present to tell him what the writing on the envelope meant. It

was simply the address and the announcement that it contained fifteen

hundred rubles.

The envelope was made of common paper and was sealed with dark-brown

sealing wax. There was one large seal in the centre and four smaller

ones at the corners. Polikey continued to examine it carefully, even

inserting his finger till he touched the crisp notes. He appeared to

take a childish delight in having so much money in his possession.

Having finished his examination, he put the envelope inside the lining

of his old battered hat, and placing both under his head he went to

sleep; but during the night he frequently awoke and always felt to know

if the money was safe. Each time that he found that it was safe he

rejoiced at the thought that he, Polikey, abused and regarded by every

one as a thief, was intrusted with the care of such a large sum of

money, and also that he was about to return with it quite as safely as

the superintendent himself could have done.

CHAPTER V.

Before dawn the next morning Polikey was up, and after harnessing the

mare and looking in his hat to see that the money was all right, he

started on his return journey.

Many times on the way Polikey took off his hat to see that the money

was safe. Once he said to himself, “I think that perhaps it would be

better if I should put it in my bosom.” This would necessitate the

untying of his sash, so he decided to keep it still in his hat, or

until he should have made half the journey, when he would be compelled

to stop to feed his horse and to rest.

He said to himself: “The lining is not sewn in very strongly and the

envelope might fall out, so I think I had better not take off my hat

until I reach home.”

The money was safe—at least, so it seemed to him—and he began to think

how grateful his mistress would be to him, and in his excited

imagination he saw the five rubles he was so sure of receiving.

Once more he examined the hat to see that the money was safe, and

finding everything all right he put on his hat and pulled it well down

over his ears, smiling all the while at his own thoughts.

Akulina had carefully sewed all the holes in the hat, but it burst out

in other places owing to Polikey’s removing it so often.

In the darkness he did not notice the new rents, and tried to push the

envelope further under the lining, and in doing so pushed one corner of

it through the plush.

The sun was getting high in the heavens, and Polikey having slept but

little the previous night and feeling its warm rays fell fast asleep,

after first pressing his hat more firmly on his head. By this action he

forced the envelope still further through the plush, and as he rode

along his head bobbed up and down.

Polikey did not awake till he arrived near his own house, and his first

act was to put his hand to his head to learn if his hat was all right.

Finding that it was in its place, he did not think it necessary to

examine it and see that the money was safe. Touching the mare gently

with the whip she started into a trot, and as he rode along he arranged

in his own mind how much he was to receive. With the air of a man

already holding a high position at the court, he looked around him with

an expression of lofty scorn on his face.

As he neared his house he could see before him the one room which

constituted their humble home, and the joiner’s wife next door carrying

her rolls of linen. He saw also the office of the court and his

mistress’s house, where he hoped he would be able presently to prove

that he was an honest, trustworthy man.

He reasoned with himself that any person can be abused by lying

tongues, but when his mistress would see him she would say: “Well done,

Polikey; you have shown that you can be honest. Here are three—it may

be five—perhaps ten—rubles for you;” and also she would order tea for

him, and might treat him to vodka—who knows?

The latter thought gave him great pleasure, as he was feeling very

cold.

Speaking aloud he said: “What a happy holy-day we can have with ten

rubles! Having so much money, I could pay Nikita the four rubles fifty

kopecks which I owe him, and yet have some left to buy shoes for the

children.”

When near the house Polikey began to arrange his clothes, smoothing

down his fur collar, re-tying his sash, and stroking his hair. To do

the latter he had to take off his hat, and when doing so felt in the

lining for the envelope. Quicker and quicker he ran his hand around the

lining, and not finding the money used both hands, first one and then

the other. But the envelope was not to be found.

Polikey was by this time greatly distressed, and his face was white

with fear as he passed his hand through the crown of his old hat.

Polikey stopped the mare and began a diligent search through the wagon

and its contents. Not finding the precious envelope, he felt in all his

pockets—_but the money could not be found!_

Wildly clutching at his hair, he exclaimed: “_Batiushka!_ What will I

do now? What will become of me?” At the same time he realized that he

was near his neighbors’ house and could be seen by them; so he turned

the mare around, and, pulling his hat down securely upon his head, he

rode quickly back in search of his lost treasure.

CHAPTER VI.

The whole day passed without any one in the village of Pokrovski having

seen anything of Polikey. During the afternoon his mistress inquired

many times as to his whereabouts, and sent Aksiutka frequently to

Akulina, who each time sent back word that Polikey had not yet

returned, saying also that perhaps the merchant had kept him, or that

something had happened to the mare.

His poor wife felt a heavy load upon her heart, and was scarcely able

to do her housework and put everything in order for the next day (which

was to be a holy-day). The children also anxiously awaited their

father’s appearance, and, though for different reasons, could hardly

restrain their impatience. The noblewoman and Akulina were concerned

only in regard to Polikey himself, while the children were interested

most in what he would bring them from the town.

The only news received by the villagers during the day concerning

Polikey was to the effect that neighboring peasants had seen him

running up and down the road and asking every one he met if he or she

had found an envelope.

One of them had seen him also walking by the side of his tired-out

horse. “I thought,” said he, “that the man was drunk, and had not fed

his horse for two days—the animal looked so exhausted.”

Unable to sleep, and with her heart palpitating at every sound, Akulina

lay awake all night vainly awaiting Polikey’s return. When the cock

crowed the third time she was obliged to get up to attend to the fire.

Day was just dawning and the church-bells had begun to ring. Soon all

the children were also up, but there was still no tidings of the

missing husband and father.

In the morning the chill blasts of winter entered their humble home,

and on looking out they saw that the houses, fields, and roads were

thickly covered with snow. The day was clear and cold, as if befitting

the holy-day they were about to celebrate. They were able to see a long

distance from the house, but no one was in sight.

Akulina was busy baking cakes, and had it not been for the joyous

shouts of the children she would not have known that Polikey was coming

up the road, for a few minutes later he came in with a bundle in his

hand and walked quietly to his corner. Akulina noticed that he was very

pale and that his face bore an expression of suffering—as if he would

like to have cried but could not do so. But she did not stop to study

it, but excitedly inquired: “What! Illitch, is everything all right

with you?”

He slowly muttered something, but his wife could not understand what he

said.

“What!” she cried out, “have you been to see our mistress?”

Polikey still sat on the bed in his corner, glaring wildly about him,

and smiling bitterly. He did not reply for a long time, and Akulina

again cried:

“Eh? Illitch! Why don’t you answer me? Why don’t you speak?”

Finally he said: “Akulina, I delivered the money to our mistress; and

oh, how she thanked me!” Then he suddenly looked about him, with an

anxious, startled air, and with a sad smile on his lips. Two things in

the room seemed to engross the most of his attention: the baby in the

cradle, and the rope which was attached to the ladder. Approaching the

cradle, he began with his thin fingers quickly to untie the knot in the

rope by which the two were connected. After untying it he stood for a

few moments looking silently at the baby.

Akulina did not notice this proceeding, and with her cakes on the board

went to place them in a corner.

Polikey quickly hid the rope beneath his coat, and again seated himself

on the bed.

“What is it that troubles you, Illitch?” inquired Akulina. “You are not

yourself.”

“I have not slept,” he answered.

Suddenly a dark shadow crossed the window, and a minute later the girl

Aksiutka quickly entered the room, exclaiming:

“The _boyarinia_ commands you, Polikey Illitch, to come to her this

moment!”

Polikey looked first at Akulina and then at the girl.

“This moment!” he cried. “What more is wanted?”

He spoke the last sentence so softly that Akulina became quieted in her

mind, thinking that perhaps their mistress intended to reward her

husband.

“Say that I will come immediately,” he said.

But Polikey failed to follow the girl, and went instead to another

place.

From the porch of his house there was a ladder reaching to the attic.

Arriving at the foot of the ladder Polikey looked around him, and

seeing no one about, he quickly ascended to the garret.

Meanwhile the girl had reached her mistress’s house.

“What does it mean that Polikey does not come?” said the noblewoman

impatiently. “Where can he be? Why does he not come at once?”

Aksiutka flew again to his house and demanded to see Polikey.

“He went a long time ago,” answered Akulina, and looking around with an

expression of fear on her face, she added, “He may have fallen asleep

somewhere on the way.”

About this time the joiner’s wife, with hair unkempt and clothes

bedraggled, went up to the loft to gather the linen which she had

previously put there to dry. Suddenly a cry of horror was heard, and

the woman, with her eyes closed, and crazed by fear, ran down the

ladder like a cat.

“Illitch,” she cried, “has hanged himself!”

Poor Akulina ran up the ladder before any of the people, who had

gathered from the surrounding houses, could prevent her. With a loud

shriek she fell back as if dead, and would surely have been killed had

not one of the spectators succeeded in catching her in his arms.

Before dark the same day a peasant of the village, while returning from

the town, found the envelope containing Polikey’s money on the

roadside, and soon after delivered it to the _boyarinia_.

THE 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.”—ST. MATTHEW

v. 38, 39.

It was in the time of serfdom—many years before Alexander II.’s

liberation of the sixty million serfs in 1862. In those days the people

were ruled by different kinds of lords. There were not a few who,

remembering God, treated their slaves in a humane manner, and not as

beasts of burden, while there were others who were seldom known to

perform a kind or generous action; but the most barbarous and

tyrannical of all were those former serfs who arose from the dirt and

became princes.

It was this latter class who made life literally a burden to those who

were unfortunate enough to come under their rule. Many of them had

arisen from the ranks of the peasantry to become superintendents of

noblemen’s estates.

The peasants were obliged to work for their master a certain number of

days each week. There was plenty of land and water and the soil was

rich and fertile, while the meadows and forests were sufficient to

supply the needs of both the peasants and their lord.

There was a certain nobleman who had chosen a superintendent from the

peasantry on one of his other estates. No sooner had the power to

govern been vested in this newly-made official than he began to

practice the most outrageous cruelties upon the poor serfs who had been

placed under his control. Although this man had a wife and two married

daughters, and was making so much money that he could have lived

happily without transgressing in any way against either God or man, yet

he was filled with envy and jealousy and deeply sunk in sin.

Michael Simeonovitch began his persecutions by compelling the peasants

to perform more days of service on the estate every week than the laws

obliged them to work. He established a brick-yard, in which he forced

the men and women to do excessive labor, selling the bricks for his own

profit.

On one occasion the overworked serfs sent a delegation to Moscow to

complain of their treatment to their lord, but they obtained no

satisfaction. When the poor peasants returned disconsolate from the

nobleman their superintendent determined to have revenge for their

boldness in going above him for redress, and their life and that of

their fellow-victims became worse than before.

It happened that among the serfs there were some very treacherous

people who would falsely accuse their fellows of wrong-doing and sow

seeds of discord among the peasantry, whereupon Michael would become

greatly enraged, while his poor subjects began to live in fear of their

lives. When the superintendent passed through the village the people

would run and hide themselves as from a wild beast. Seeing thus the

terror which he had struck to the hearts of the moujiks, Michael’s

treatment of them became still more vindictive, so that from over-work

and ill-usage the lot of the poor serfs was indeed a hard one.

There was a time when it was possible for the peasants, when driven to

despair, to devise means whereby they could rid themselves of an

inhuman monster such as Simeonovitch, and so these unfortunate people

began to consider whether something could not be done to relieve _them_

of their intolerable yoke. They would hold little meetings in secret

places to bewail their misery and to confer with one another as to

which would be the best way to act. Now and then the boldest of the

gathering would rise and address his companions in this strain: “How

much longer can we tolerate such a villain to rule over us? Let us make

an end of it at once, for it were better for us to perish than to

suffer. It is surely not a sin to kill such a devil in human form.”

It happened once, before the Easter holidays, that one of these

meetings was held in the woods, where Michael had sent the serfs to

make a clearance for their master. At noon they assembled to eat their

dinner and to hold a consultation. “Why can’t we leave now?” said one.

“Very soon we shall be reduced to nothing. Already we are almost worked

to death—there being no rest, night or day, either for us or our poor

women. If anything should be done in a way not exactly to please him he

will find fault and perhaps flog some of us to death—as was the case

with poor Simeon, whom he killed not long ago. Only recently Anisim was

tortured in irons till he died. We certainly cannot stand this much

longer.” “Yes,” said another, “what is the use of waiting? Let us act

at once. Michael will be here this evening, and will be certain to

abuse us shamefully. Let us, then, thrust him from his horse and with

one blow of an axe give him what he deserves, and thus end our misery.

We can then dig a big hole and bury him like a dog, and no one will

know what became of him. Now let us come to an agreement—to stand

together as one man and not to betray one another.”

The last speaker was Vasili Minayeff, who, if possible, had more cause

to complain of Michael’s cruelty than any of his fellow-serfs. The

superintendent was in the habit of flogging him severely every week,

and he took also Vasili’s wife to serve him as cook.

Accordingly, during the evening that followed this meeting in the woods

Michael arrived on the scene on horseback. He began at once to find

fault with the manner in which the work had been done, and to complain

because some lime-trees had been cut down.

“I told you not to cut down any lime-trees!” shouted the enraged

superintendent. “Who did this thing? Tell me at once, or I shall flog

every one of you!”

On investigation, a peasant named Sidor was pointed out as the guilty

one, and his face was roundly slapped. Michael also severely punished

Vasili, because he had not done sufficient work, after which the master

rode safely home.

In the evening the serfs again assembled, and poor Vasili said: “Oh,

what kind of people _are_ we, anyway? We are only sparrows, and not men

at all! We agree to stand by each other, but as soon as the time for

action comes we all run and hide. Once a lot of sparrows conspired

against a hawk, but no sooner did the bird of prey appear than they

sneaked off in the grass. Selecting one of the choicest sparrows, the

hawk took it away to eat, after which the others came out crying,

‘Twee-twee!’ and found that one was missing. ‘Who is killed?’ they

asked. ‘Vanka! Well, he deserved it.’ You, my friends, are acting in

just the same manner. When Michael attacked Sidor you should have stood

by your promise. Why didn’t you arise, and with one stroke put an end

to him and to our misery?”

The effect of this speech was to make the peasants more firm in their

determination to kill their superintendent. The latter had already

given orders that they should be ready to plough during the Easter

holidays, and to sow the field with oats, whereupon the serfs became

stricken with grief, and gathered in Vasili’s house to hold another

indignation meeting. “If he has really forgotten God,” they said, “and

shall continue to commit such crimes against us, it is truly necessary

that we should kill him. If not, let us perish, for it can make no

difference to us now.”

This despairing programme, however, met with considerable opposition

from a peaceably-inclined man named Peter Mikhayeff. “Brethren,” said

he, “you are contemplating a grievous sin. The taking of human life is

a very serious matter. Of course it is easy to end the mortal existence

of a man, but what will become of the souls of those who commit the

deed? If Michael continues to act toward us unjustly God will surely

punish him. But, my friends, we must have patience.”

This pacific utterance only served to intensify the anger of Vasili.

Said he: “Peter is forever repeating the same old story, ‘It is a sin

to kill any one.’ Certainly it is sinful to murder; but we should

consider the kind of man we are dealing with. We all know it is wrong

to kill a good man, but even God would take away the life of such a dog

as he is. It is our duty, if we have any love for mankind, to shoot a

dog that is mad. It is a sin to let him live. If, therefore, we are to

suffer at all, let it be in the interests of the people—and they will

thank us for it. If we remain quiet any longer a flogging will be our

only reward. You are talking nonsense, Mikhayeff. Why don’t you think

of the sin we shall be committing if we work during the Easter

holidays—for you will refuse to work then yourself?”

“Well, then,” replied Peter, “if they shall send me to plough, I will

go. But I shall not be going of my own free will, and God will know

whose sin it is, and shall punish the offender accordingly. Yet we must

not forget him. Brethren, I am not giving you my own views only. The

law of God is not to return evil for evil; indeed, if you try in this

way to stamp out wickedness it will come upon you all the stronger. It

is not difficult for you to kill the man, but his blood will surely

stain your own soul. You may think you have killed a bad man—that you

have gotten rid of evil—but you will soon find out that the seeds of

still greater wickedness have been planted within you. If you yield to

misfortune it will surely come to you.”

As Peter was not without sympathizers among the peasants, the poor

serfs were consequently divided into two groups: the followers of

Vasili and those who held the views of Mikhayeff.

On Easter Sunday no work was done. Toward the evening an elder came to

the peasants from the nobleman’s court and said: “Our superintendent,

Michael Simeonovitch, orders you to go to-morrow to plough the field

for the oats.” Thus the official went through the village and directed

the men to prepare for work the next day—some by the river and others

by the roadway. The poor people were almost overcome with grief, many

of them shedding tears, but none dared to disobey the orders of their

master.

On the morning of Easter Monday, while the church bells were calling

the inhabitants to religious services, and while every one else was

about to enjoy a holiday, the unfortunate serfs started for the field

to plough. Michael arose rather late and took a walk about the farm.

The domestic servants were through with their work and had dressed

themselves for the day, while Michael’s wife and their widowed daughter

(who was visiting them, as was her custom on holidays) had been to

church and returned. A steaming samovar awaited them, and they began to

drink tea with Michael, who, after lighting his pipe, called the elder

to him.

“Well,” said the superintendent, “have you ordered the moujiks to

plough to-day?”

“Yes, sir, I did,” was the reply.

“Have they all gone to the field?”

“Yes, sir; all of them. I directed them myself where to begin.”

“That is all very well. You gave the orders, but are they ploughing? Go

at once and see, and you may tell them that I shall be there after

dinner. I shall expect to find one and a half acres done for every two

ploughs, and the work must be well done; otherwise they shall be

severely punished, notwithstanding the holiday.”

“I hear, sir, and obey.”

The elder started to go, but Michael called him back. After hesitating

for some time, as if he felt very uneasy, he said:

“By the way, listen to what those scoundrels say about me. Doubtless

some of them will curse me, and I want you to report the exact words. I

know what villains they are. They don’t find work at all pleasant. They

would rather lie down all day and do nothing. They would like to eat

and drink and make merry on holidays, but they forget that if the

ploughing is not done it will soon be too late. So you go and listen to

what is said, and tell it to me in detail. Go at once.”

“I hear, sir, and obey.”

Turning his back and mounting his horse, the elder was soon at the

field where the serfs were hard at work.

It happened that Michael’s wife, a very good-hearted woman, overheard

the conversation which her husband had just been holding with the

elder. Approaching him, she said:

“My good friend, Mishinka [diminutive of Michael], I beg of you to

consider the importance and solemnity of this holy-day. Do not sin, for

Christ’s sake. Let the poor moujiks go home.”

Michael laughed, but made no reply to his wife’s humane request.

Finally he said to her:

“You’ve not been whipped for a very long time, and now you have become

bold enough to interfere in affairs that are not your own.”

“Mishinka,” she persisted, “I have had a frightful dream concerning

you. You had better let the moujiks go.”

“Yes,” said he; “I perceive that you have gained so much flesh of late

that you think you would not feel the whip. Lookout!”

Rudely thrusting his hot pipe against her cheek, Michael chased his

wife from the room, after which he ordered his dinner. After eating a

hearty meal consisting of cabbage-soup, roast pig, meat-cake, pastry

with milk, jelly, sweet cakes, and vodka, he called his woman cook to

him and ordered her to be seated and sing songs, Simeonovitch

accompanying her on the guitar.

While the superintendent was thus enjoying himself to the fullest

satisfaction in the musical society of his cook the elder returned,

and, making a low bow to his superior, proceeded to give the desired

information concerning the serfs.

“Well,” asked Michael, “did they plough?”

“Yes,” replied the elder; “they have accomplished about half the

field.”

“Is there no fault to be found?”

“Not that I could discover. The work seems to be well done. They are

evidently afraid of you.”

“How is the soil?”

“Very good. It appears to be quite soft.”

“Well,” said Simeonovitch, after a pause, “what did they say about me?

Cursed me, I suppose?”

As the elder hesitated somewhat, Michael commanded him to speak and

tell him the whole truth. “Tell me all,” said he; “I want to know their

exact words. If you tell me the truth I shall reward you; but if you

conceal anything from me you will be punished. See here, Catherine,

pour out a glass of vodka to give him courage!”

After drinking to the health of his superior, the elder said to

himself: “It is not my fault if they do not praise him. I shall tell

him the truth.” Then turning suddenly to the superintendent he said:

“They complain, Michael Simeonovitch! They complain bitterly.”

“But what did they say?” demanded Michael. “Tell me!”

“Well, one thing they said was, ‘He does not believe in God.’”

Michael laughed. “Who said that?” he asked.

“It seemed to be their unanimous opinion. ‘He has been overcome by the

Evil One,’ they said.”

“Very good,” laughed the superintendent; “but tell me what each of them

said. What did Vasili say?”

The elder did not wish to betray his people, but he had a certain

grudge against Vasili, and he said:

“He cursed you more than did any of the others.”

“But what did he say?”

“It is awful to repeat it, sir. Vasili said, ‘He shall die like a dog,

having no chance to repent!’”

“Oh, the villain!” exclaimed Michael. “He would kill me if he were not

afraid. All right, Vasili; we shall have an accounting with you. And

Tishka—he called me a dog, I suppose?”

“Well,” said the elder, “they all spoke of you in anything but

complimentary terms; but it is mean in me to repeat what they said.”

“Mean or not you must tell me, I say!”

“Some of them declared that your back should be broken.”

Simeonovitch appeared to enjoy this immensely, for he laughed outright.

“We shall see whose back will be the first to be broken,” said he. “Was

that Tishka’s opinion? While I did not suppose they would say anything

good about me, I did not expect such curses and threats. And Peter

Mikhayeff—was that fool cursing me too?”

“No; he did not curse you at all. He appeared to be the only silent one

among them. Mikhayeff is a very wise moujik, and he surprises me very

much. At his actions all the other peasants seemed amazed.”

“What did he do?”

“He did something remarkable. He was diligently ploughing, and as I

approached him I heard some one singing very sweetly. Looking between

the ploughshares, I observed a bright object shining.”

“Well, what was it? Hurry up!”

“It was a small, five-kopeck wax candle, burning brightly, and the wind

was unable to blow it out. Peter, wearing a new shirt, sang beautiful

hymns as he ploughed, and no matter how he handled the implement the

candle continued to burn. In my presence he fixed the plough, shaking

it violently, but the bright little object between the colters remained

undisturbed.”

“And what did Mikhayeff say?”

“He said nothing—except when, on seeing me, he gave me the holy-day

salutation, after which he went on his way singing and ploughing as

before. I did not say anything to him, but, on approaching the other

moujiks, I found that they were laughing and making sport of their

silent companion. ‘It is a great sin to plough on Easter Monday,’ they

said. ‘You could not get absolution from your sin if you were to pray

all your life.’”

“And did Mikhayeff make no reply?”

“He stood long enough to say: ‘There should be peace on earth and

good-will to men,’ after which he resumed his ploughing and singing,

the candle burning even more brightly than before.”

Simeonovitch had now ceased to ridicule, and, putting aside his guitar,

his head dropped on his breast and he became lost in thought. Presently

he ordered the elder and cook to depart, after which Michael went

behind a screen and threw himself upon the bed. He was sighing and

moaning, as if in great distress, when his wife came in and spoke

kindly to him. He refused to listen to her, exclaiming:

“He has conquered me, and my end is near!”

“Mishinka,” said the woman, “arise and go to the moujiks in the field.

Let them go home, and everything will be all right. Heretofore you have

run far greater risks without any fear, but now you appear to be very

much alarmed.”

“He has conquered me!” he repeated. “I am lost!”

“What do you mean?” demanded his wife, angrily. “If you will go and do

as I tell you there will be no danger. Come, Mishinka,” she added,

tenderly; “I shall have the saddle-horse brought for you at once.”

When the horse arrived the woman persuaded her husband to mount the

animal, and to fulfil her request concerning the serfs. When he reached

the village a woman opened the gate for him to enter, and as he did so

the inhabitants, seeing the brutal superintendent whom everybody

feared, ran to hide themselves in their houses, gardens, and other

secluded places.

At length Michael reached the other gate, which he found closed also,

and, being unable to open it himself while seated on his horse, he

called loudly for assistance. As no one responded to his shouts he

dismounted and opened the gate, but as he was about to remount, and had

one foot in the stirrup, the horse became frightened at some pigs and

sprang suddenly to one side. The superintendent fell across the fence

and a very sharp picket pierced his stomach, when Michael fell

unconscious to the ground.

Toward the evening, when the serfs arrived at the village gate, their

horses refused to enter. On looking around, the peasants discovered the

dead body of their superintendent lying face downward in a pool of

blood, where he had fallen from the fence. Peter Mikhayeff alone had

sufficient courage to dismount and approach the prostrate form, his

companions riding around the village and entering by way of the back

yards. Peter closed the dead man’s eyes, after which he put the body in

a wagon and took it home.

When the nobleman learned of the fatal accident which had befallen his

superintendent, and of the brutal treatment which he had meted out to

those under him, he freed the serfs, exacting a small rent for the use

of his land and the other agricultural opportunities.

And thus the peasants clearly understood that the power of God is

manifested not in evil, but in goodness.