"'You're joking, Savyeli!'

"'Oh no, I'm not joking.

I mean it,' he said, And he told me the story.

"'The peasants in old days Were serfs as they now are, But our race had, somehow, Not seen its Pomyeshchick; 120 No manager knew we, No pert German agent.

And barschin we gave not, And taxes we paid not Except when it pleased us,-- Perhaps once in three years Our taxes we'd pay.'

"'But why, little Grandad?'

"'The times were so blessed,-- And folk had a saying 130 That our little village Was sought by the devil For more than three years, But he never could find it.

Great forests a thousand Years old lay about us; And treacherous marshes And bogs spread around us; No horseman and few men On foot ever reached us. 140 It happened that once By some chance, our Pomyeshchick, Shalashnikov, wanted To pay us a visit.

High placed in the army Was he; and he started With soldiers to find us.

They soon got bewildered And lost in the forest, And had to turn back; 150 Why, the Zemsky policeman Would only come once In a year! They were good times!

In these days the Barin Lives under your window; The roadways go spreading Around, like white napkins-- The devil destroy them!

We only were troubled By bears, and the bears too 160 Were easily managed.

Why, I was a worse foe By far than old Mishka, When armed with a dagger And bear-spear. I wandered In wild, secret woodpaths, And shouted, ''_My_ forest!''

And once, only once, I was frightened by something: I stepped on a huge 170 Female bear that was lying Asleep in her den In the heart of the forest.

She flung herself at me, And straight on my bear-spear Was fixed. Like a fowl On the spit she hung twisting An hour before death.

It was then that my spine snapped.

It often was painful 180 When I was a young man; But now I am old, It is fixed and bent double.

Now, do I not look like A hook, little Grandchild?'

"'But finish the story.

You lived and were not much Afflicted. What further?'

"'At last our Pomyeshchick Invented a new game: 190 He sent us an order, ''Appear!'' We appeared not.

Instead, we lay low In our dens, hardly breathing.

A terrible drought Had descended that summer, The bogs were all dry; So he sent a policeman, Who managed to reach us, To gather our taxes, 200 In honey and fish; A second time came he, We gave him some bear-skins; And when for the third time He came, we gave nothing,-- We said we had nothing.

We put on our laputs, We put our old caps on, Our oldest old coats, And we went to Korojin 210 (For there was our master now, Stationed with soldiers).

''Your taxes!'' ''We have none, We cannot pay taxes, The corn has not grown, And the fish have escaped us.''

''Your taxes!'' ''We have none.''

He waited no longer; ''Hey! Give them the first round!''

He said, and they flogged us. 220

"'Our pockets were not Very easily opened; Shalashnikov, though, was A master at flogging.

Our tongues became parched, And our brains were set whirling, And still he continued.

He flogged not with birch-rods, With whips or with sticks, But with knouts made for giants. 230 At last we could stand it No longer; we shouted, ''Enough! Let us breathe!''

We unwound our foot-rags And took out our money, And brought to the Barin A ragged old bonnet With roubles half filled.

"'The Barin grew calm, He was pleased with the money; 240 He gave us a gla.s.s each Of strong, bitter brandy, And drank some himself With the vanquished Korojins, And gaily clinked gla.s.ses.

''It's well that you yielded,''

Said he, ''For I swear I was fully decided To strip off the last shred Of skins from your bodies 250 And use it for making A drum for my soldiers!

Ha, ha! Ha, ha, ha!''

(He was pleased with the notion.) ''A fine drum indeed!''

"'In silence we left; But two stalwart old peasants Were chuckling together; They'd two hundred roubles In notes, the old rascals! 260 Safe hidden away In the end of their coat-tails.

They both had been yelling, ''We're beggars! We're beggars!''

So carried them home.

''Well, well, you may cackle!''

I thought to myself, ''But the next time, be certain, You won't laugh at me!''

The others were also 270 Ashamed of their weakness, And so by the ikons We swore all together That next time we rather Would die of the beating Than feebly give way.

It seems the Pomyeshchick Had taken a fancy At once to our roubles, Because after that 280 Every year we were summoned To go to Korojin, We went, and were flogged.

"'Shalashnikov flogged like A prince, but be certain The treasures he thrashed from The doughty Korojins Were not of much weight.

The weak yielded soon, But the strong stood like iron 290 For the commune. I also Bore up, and I thought: ''Though never so stoutly You flog us, you dog's son, You won't drag the whole soul From out of the peasant; Some trace will be left.''

"'When the Barin was sated We went from the town, But we stopped on the outskirts 300 To share what was over.

And plenty there was, too!

Shalashnikov, heh, You're a fool! It was our turn To laugh at the Barin; Ah, they were proud peasants-- The plucky Korojins!

But nowadays show them The tail of a knout, And they'll fly to the Barin, 310 And beg him to take The last coin from their pockets.

Well, that's why we all lived Like merchants in those days.

One summer came tidings To us that our Barin Now owned us no longer, That he had, at Varna, Been killed. We weren't sorry, But somehow we thought then: 320 ''The peasants' good fortune Has come to an end!''

The heir made a new move: He sent us a German.[48]

Through vast, savage forests, Through sly sucking bogs And on foot came the German, As bare as a finger.

"'As melting as b.u.t.ter At first was the German: 330 ''Just give what you can, then,''

He'd say to the peasants.

"'''We've nothing to give!''

"'''I'll explain to the Barin.''

"'''Explain,'' we replied, And were troubled no more.

It seemed he was going To live in the village; He soon settled down.

On the banks of the river, 340 For hour after hour He sat peacefully fishing, And striking his nose Or his cheek or his forehead.

We laughed: ''You don't like The Korojin mosquitoes?''

He'd boat near the bankside And shout with enjoyment, Like one in the bath-house Who's got to the roof.[49] 350

"'With youths and young maidens He strolled in the forest (They were not for nothing Those strolls in the forest!)-- ''Well, if you can't pay You should work, little peasants.''

"'''What work should we do?''

"'''You should dig some deep ditches To drain off the bog-lands.''

We dug some deep ditches. 360

"'''And now trim the forest.''

"'''Well, well, trim the forest....''

We hacked and we hewed As the German directed, And when we look round There's a road through the forest!

"'The German went driving To town with three horses; Look! now he is coming With boxes and bedding, 370 And G.o.d knows wherefrom Has this bare-footed German Raised wife and small children!

And now he's established A village ispravnik,[50]

They live like two brothers.

His courtyard at all times Is teeming with strangers, And woe to the peasants-- The fallen Korojins! 380 He sucked us all dry To the very last farthing; And flog!--like the soul Of Shalashnikov flogged he!

Shalashnikov stopped When he got what he wanted; He clung to our backs Till he'd glutted his stomach, And then he dropped down Like a leech from a dog's ear. 390 But he had the grip Of a corpse--had this German; Until he had left you Stripped bare like a beggar You couldn't escape.'

"'But how could you bear it?'