"n.o.body said a good word. All of them curse you and threaten you."

"Well, and Peter Mikhyeev? What does he say? He, too, I suppose, is cursing me?"

"No, Mikhail s.e.m.e.novich, Peter is not cursing."

"What does he say?"

"He is the only one of all the peasants who is not saying anything. He is a wise peasant. I wondered at him, Mikhail s.e.m.e.novich."

"How so?"

"All the peasants were wondering at what he was doing."

"What was he doing?"

"It is wonderful. I rode up to him. He is ploughing the slanting desyatina at Turkin Height. As I rode up to him, I heard some one singing such nice, high tones, and on the plough-staff something was shining."

"Well?"

"It was shining like a light. I rode up to him, and there I saw a five-kopek wax candle was stuck on the cross-bar and burning, and the wind did not blow it out. He had on a clean shirt, and was ploughing and singing Sunday hymns. And he would turn over and shake off the dirt, but the candle did not go out. He shook the plough in my presence, changed the peg, and started the plough, but the candle was still burning and did not go out."

"And what did he say?"

"He said nothing. When he saw me, he greeted me and at once began to sing again."

"What did you say to him?"

"I did not say anything to him, but the peasants came up and laughed at him: 'Mikhyeev will not get rid of his sin of ploughing during Easter week even if he should pray all his life.'"

"What did he say to that?"

"All he said was: 'Peace on earth and good-will to men.' He took his plough, started his horses, and sang out in a thin voice, but the candle kept burning and did not go out."

The clerk stopped laughing. He put down the guitar, lowered his head, and fell to musing.

He sat awhile; then he sent away the cook and the elder, went behind the curtain, lay down on the bed, and began to sigh and to sob, just as though a cart were driving past with sheaves. His wife came and began to speak to him; he gave her no answer. All he said was:

"He has vanquished me. My turn has come."

His wife tried to calm him.

"Go and send them home! Maybe it will be all right. See what deeds you have done, and now you lose your courage."

"I am lost," he said. "He has vanquished me."

His wife cried to him:

"You just have it on your brain, 'He has vanquished me, he has vanquished me.' Go and send the peasants home, and all will be well. Go, and I will have your horse saddled."

The horse was brought up, and the clerk's wife persuaded him to ride into the field to send the peasants home.

Mikhail s.e.m.e.novich mounted his horse and rode into the field. He drove through the yard, and a woman opened the gate for him, and he pa.s.sed into the village. The moment the people saw the clerk, they hid themselves from him, one in the yard, another around a corner, a third in the garden.

The clerk rode through the whole village and reached the outer gate. The gate was shut, and he could not open it while sitting on his horse. He called and called for somebody to open the gate, but no one would come.

He got down from his horse, opened the gate, and in the gateway started to mount again. He put his foot into the stirrup, rose in it, and was on the point of vaulting over the saddle, when his horse shied at a pig and backed up toward the picket fence; he was a heavy man and did not get into his saddle, but fell over, with his belly on picket. There was but one sharp post in the picket fence, and it was higher than the rest. It was this post that he struck with his belly. He was ripped open and fell to the ground.

When the peasants drove home from their work, the horses snorted and would not go through the gate. The peasants went to look, and saw Mikhail lying on his back. His arms were stretched out, his eyes stood open, and all his inside had run out and the blood stood in a pool,--the earth had not sucked it in.

The peasants were frightened. They took their horses in by back roads, but Mikhyeev alone got down and walked over to the clerk. He saw that he was dead, so he closed his eyes, hitched his cart, with the aid of his son put the dead man in the bed of the cart, and took him to the manor.

The master heard about all these things, and to save himself from sin subst.i.tuted tenant pay for the manorial labour.

And the peasants saw that the power of G.o.d was not in sin, but in goodness.

THE TWO OLD MEN

1885

THE TWO OLD MEN

Therefore, being wearied with his journey, sat thus on the well: and it was about the sixth hour. There cometh a woman of Samaria to draw water: Jesus saith unto her, Give me to drink. (For his disciples were gone away unto the city to buy meat.) Then saith the woman of Samaria unto him, How is it that thou, being a Jew, askest drink of me, which am a woman of Samaria? for the Jews have no dealings with the Samaritans. Jesus answered and said unto her, If thou knewest the gift of G.o.d, and who it is that saith to thee, Give me to drink; thou wouldest have asked of him, for the Father seeketh such to worship him. (John iv. 19-23.)

I.

Two old men got ready to go to old Jerusalem to pray to G.o.d. One of them was a rich peasant; his name was Efim Tarasych Shevelev. The other was not a well-to-do man, and his name was Elisey Bodrov.

Efim was a steady man: he did not drink liquor, nor smoke tobacco, nor take snuff, had never cursed in his life, and was a stern, firm old man.

He had served two terms as an elder, and had gone out of his office without a deficit. He had a large family,--two sons and a married grandson,--and all lived together. As to looks he was a sound, bearded, erect man, and only in his seventh decade did a gray streak appear in his beard.

Elisey was neither wealthy nor poor; in former days he used to work out as a carpenter, but in his old age he stayed at home and kept bees. One son was away earning money, and another was living at home. Elisey was a good-natured and merry man. He liked to drink liquor and take snuff, and sing songs; but he was a peaceable man, and lived in friendship with his home folk and with the neighbours. In appearance he was an undersized, swarthy man, with a curly beard and, like his saint, Prophet Elisha, his whole head was bald.

The old men had long ago made the vow and agreed to go together, but Tarasych had had no time before: he had so much business on hand. The moment one thing came to an end, another began; now he had to get his grandson married, now he was expecting his younger son back from the army, and now he had to build him a new hut.

On a holiday the two old men once met, and they sat down on logs.

"Well," said Elisey, "when are we going to carry out our vow?"

Efim frowned.

"We shall have to wait," he said, "for this is a hard year for me. I have started to build a house,--I thought I could do it with one hundred, but it is going on now in the third. And still it is not done.