All the Tartars collected in a circle, the old man from the hills among them. They began to talk; Jilin gathered that they were considering what was to be done with him and Kostilin. Some said that they should be sent into the hills, and the old man persisted that they should be killed. Abdul would not agree to either plan, saying, “I paid money for them and must get their ransom.”
The old man said, “They will not pay the ransom; they’ll only do a great deal of harm. It is a sin to keep Russians. Kill them and have done with it.”
The Tartars dispersed. The master came to Jilin and said to him, “If your ransom does not come in two weeks, I’ll have you flogged, and if you attempt to run away again, I’ll kill you like a dog. Write home, and write to the point!”
They brought them pen and paper and they wrote home. The shackles were put on them and they were taken behind theMosque, where there was a pit of about twelve feet deep, into which they were flung.
Life was very hard for them now. Their shackles were never removed, and they were never allowed out into the fresh air. Raw dough was thrown down to them, as one throws a scrap to a dog, and water was let down in a jug. The stench in the pit was awful and it was damp as well. Kostilin grew quite ill; he swelled very much and every bone in his body ached. He either groaned or slept all the time. Jilin, too, was depressed; he saw that their position was hopeless and did not know how to get out of it.
He tried to make a tunnel but there was nowhere to throw the earth, and when the master saw it, he threatened to kill him.
One day when he was most downcast, squatting in the pit and thinking of his freedom, a cake fell from above, then another, and some cherries rained down.Jilin looked up and saw Dina. She looked at him, laughed and ran away.
“I wonder if Dina would help us?” Jilin thought.
He cleared a space in the pit, dug a little clay and began to make some dolls. He moulded some men and horses and dogs, thinking, “When Dina comes, I will throw these up to her.”
But Dina did not come the next day. Jilin heard a stamping of horses; some Tartars seemed to have come and all gathered at the Mosque, shouting and arguing. It was something about the Russians. The voice of the old man was heard, too. Jilin could not understand all they said, but he made out that the Russians were near, that the Tartars were afraid of them and did not know what to do with their prisoners.
After a while they dispersed. Suddenly Jilin heard a rustling overhead and saw Dina crouching at the edge of the pit, her knees higher than her head. She bent over so that the coins at the end of her plaits dangled over the pit. Her eyes weretwinkling like two stars. From her sleeve she took two cakes made of cheese and threw them down to him. Jilin picked them up and said, “What a long time it is since you’ve been to see me! I’ve made you some toys. Look, here they are!” He threw them up to her one by one. She shook her head and averted her gaze. “I don’t want them, Ivan,” she said. “They want to kill you, Ivan,” she added, pointing to her throat.
“Who wants to kill me?”
“My father. The old man told him to, but I’m sorry for you.”
Jilin said, “If you are sorry for me, bring me a long pole.”
She shook her head, as much as to say that it was impossible.
He put up his hands and implored her, “Please, Dina! Be a dear and bring it!”
“I can’t,” she said; “they’ll catch me at home.” Then she went away.
In the evening Jilin sat in the pit wondering what would happen. He kept looking up; the stars were visible, but themoon had not yet risen. The Mullah’s call was heard, and all grew quiet. Jilin began to doze, thinking “The child is afraid.” Suddenly some clay dropped on to his head. He looked up, and saw a long pole poking into the opposite wall of the pit; it began to slide down. Jilin took hold of it and lowered it with a feeling of gladness at his heart. It was a stout, strong pole; he had noticed it many times on the roof of the master’s hut.
He looked up. The stars were shining high in the sky and above the pit Dina’s eyes gleamed in the darkness like a cat’s. She leant her head over the pit and whispered, “Ivan, Ivan!” making signs to him to speak low.
“What is it?” Jilin asked.
“They’ve all gone but two.”
“Come, Kostilin,” Jilin said; “let us try our luck for the last time; I’ll help you up.”
But Kostilin would not listen to him.
“No,” he said; “it seems that I can’t get away from here. How can I come when I’ve hardly strength enough to move?”
“Well, good-bye, then. Don’t think ill of me.”
He kissed Kostilin, and seizing the pole, he asked Dina to hold it at the top and swarmed up. Twice he fell back again; the shackles hindered him. But Jilin persevered and got to the top somehow. Dina clutched hold of his shirt and pulled at him with all her might, unable to control her laughter.
When he clambered out Jilin handed her the pole, saying, “Put it back in its place, Dina, for if they notice its absence they’ll beat you.”
Dina dragged the pole away, and Jilin went down the hill. When he got to the bottom he sat down under its shelter, took a sharp stone and tried to wrench the lock off the shackles. But the lock was a strong one and would not give way, and it was difficult to get at it. Suddenly he heard some one coming downhill, skipping lightly. “It must be Dina again,” he thought.
She came up, took the stone and said, “Let me try.”
She knelt down and tried to wrench the lock off, but her little hands were as slender as little twigs and there was no strength in them. She threw the stone down and burst into tears. Jilin made another attempt, while Dina squatted down beside him and put her hand on his shoulder.
Jilin looked round; to the left the sky was all red; the moon was beginning to rise. “I must cross the valley and be under shelter of the wood before the moon rises,” he thought. He got up and threw away the stone. “I must go as I am in the shackles. Good-bye, Dina, dear; I shall always remember you.”
Dina seized hold of him and groped about his coat with her hand to find a place to thrust some cakes into. Jilin took the cakes.
“Thank you, little one,” he said. “There won’t be any one to make you dolls when I am gone.” He stroked her head.
Dina burst into tears and, covering her face with her hands, she fled up the hill, bounding along like a wild goat. The coinsin her plait could be heard jingling in the darkness.
Jilin crossed himself, took the lock of his shackles in his hand to prevent a clatter and started on his way, dragging his shackled leg and gazing at the red in the sky where the moon was rising. This time he knew the way. He had to go straight on for six miles. If only he could reach the wood before the moon had quite risen! He forded the river. The red light over the hill had paled. He walked along the valley, looking back now and then; the moon was not yet visible. The light grew brighter and brighter; one side of the valley was quite light. The shadows crept along the foot of the hill, drawing nearer to him.
Jilin kept in the shadow. He hurried, but the moon moved faster than he; the hilltops on the right were already lit up. As he neared the wood, the moon rose over the hills, all white, and it grew as light as day. All the leaves on the trees could be seen distinctly. It was still and light on the hills; there was a dead silence, except for the murmur of the river below.
He reached the wood without meeting any one. He chose a dark spot and sat down to rest.
When he had rested a while and eaten a cake, he found a stone and once more tried to wrench the lock of the shackles. He cut his hands, but could not manage it. He rose and went on his way. After a mile he was quite worn out and his feet ached terribly. At every dozen steps or so he stopped. “It can’t be helped,” he thought. “I must drag myself on so long as my strength holds out, for if I once sit down I shan’t be able to get up again. I can’t reach the fortress to-night, that is obvious; as soon as it gets light I’ll hide in the wood and go on again when it gets dark.”
He walked the whole night, meeting only two Tartars, but Jilin heard them from a distance and took refuge behind a tree.
The moon began to pale; the dew fell; it was near dawn, but Jilin had not yet reached the end of the wood. “I’ll walk another thirty steps or so then I’ll creep into the thicket and sit down,” he thought.He covered the thirty steps and saw that he had come to the edge of the wood. When he came out it was quite light. Before him stretched the steppe and to the left, near the foot of a hill, he saw a dying fire from which the smoke rose and men were sitting about it.
He looked intently; there was a flash of guns—they were soldiers, Cossacks!
Jilin was overjoyed. He summoned his remaining strength and began to descend the hill, thinking, “God forbid that any mounted Tartar should see me now in the open field; though near my own people, I could not escape.”
The thought had no sooner crossed his mind than he saw three Tartars standing on a hill, not more than a few yards away. They had seen him and dashed down towards him. His heart gave a great bound. He waved his arms and shouted with all his might, “Help, help, brothers!”
The soldiers heard him; a few Cossacks sprang upon their horses and dashed forward to cut across the Tartars’ path.
The Cossacks were far off and the Tartarswere near, but Jilin made one last effort; lifting the shackles with his hand, he ran towards the Cossacks. He hardly knew what he was doing and crossed himself wildly, crying, “Help, brothers, help!”
The Cossacks numbered about fifteen.
The Tartars grew afraid and stopped in hesitation before they reached him. Jilin managed to get to the Cossacks. They surrounded him, asking who he was and where he came from, but Jilin was quite beside himself and could only repeat, through his tears, “Brothers, brothers!”
The soldiers came up and crowded round him, one giving him bread, another porridge, another some vodka to drink, another gave him his cloak to cover him, and another wrenched off the shackles.
The officers recognized him and took him to the fortress. His men were delighted to see him; his fellow-officers gathered about him.
Jilin told them all that had happened to him and ended by saying, “That’s how I went home and got married. I wasn’t meant to marry, evidently.”
And Jilin remained in the army in the Caucasus. It was not until a month later that Kostilin was released, after paying a ransom of five thousand roubles. He was brought back in a half-dead condition.
Emelianwas a labourer and worked for a master. He was walking through a field one day on his way to work, when a frog hopped in front of him and he just missed crushing it by stepping across. Suddenly some one called to him from behind. He turned, and there stood a beautiful maiden, who said to him, “Why don’t you marry, Emelian?”
“How can I, dear maiden? I possess nothing but the clothes I stand up in, and who would have a husband like that?”
“Marry me,” the maiden said.
Emelian looked at her in admiration.
“I would with pleasure,” he said, “but how should we live?”
“What a thing to trouble about,
[Image not available: EMELIAN AND THE EMPTY DRUM.]EMELIAN AND THE EMPTY DRUM.
indeed!” the maiden said. “One has only to work the more and sleep the less and one can always be clothed and fed.”
“Very well; let us marry, then,” Emelian said. “Where shall we live?”
“In the town.”
Emelian and the maiden went to the town. She took him to a little house on the very edge and they married and set up housekeeping.
One day the King went for a drive beyond the town, and when passing Emelian’s gate, Emelian’s wife came out to look at him. When the King saw her he marvelled.
“What a beauty!” he thought. He stopped the carriage and called her to him.
“Who are you?” he asked.
“Emelian the peasant’s wife.”
“How came a beauty like you to marry a peasant?” he asked. “You should have been a queen.”
“Thank you for your kind words,” she said; “a peasant husband is good enough for me.”
The King talked to her a while and went on his way. When he returned to thepalace Emelian’s wife did not go out of his head for a moment. The whole night he could not sleep and kept on thinking how he could take her away from Emelian, but no possible way occurred to him. He summoned his servants and asked them to think of a way.
And the servants said to him, “Get Emelian to come and be a labourer in the palace. We will wear him out with work, then his wife will become a widow and you can have her.”
The King followed their advice. He sent a messenger to tell Emelian that he was to come and be a yard-porter in the palace and bring his wife to live with him there.
The messenger came to Emelian and repeated the King’s words. And Emelian’s wife said to her husband, “It can’t be helped; you must go. You can work there in the day and return to me at night.”
Emelian went away. When he came to the palace the King’s steward said to him, “Why have you come without your wife?”
“Why should I drag her about with me? She has a home of her own.”
In the King’s yard Emelian was given enough work for two men. Emelian set about it, not expecting to get it all finished, but behold! before evening came it was all done. The steward, seeing that he had got through the work, gave him four times as much for the morrow.
Emelian went home. The house was scrubbed and cleaned, the fire lighted, the bread baked, the supper cooked. His wife was sitting at the table sewing, waiting for him. She flew to the door to meet him, then laid the supper and fed him well; afterwards she began to ask him about his work.
“It’s rather bad,” he said; “they set me tasks beyond my strength; they wear me out with too much work.”
“Don’t you think about the work,” she said, “don’t look back to see how much you have done, nor look ahead to see how much there is left. Just keep straight on and all will be done in time.”
Emelian went to bed. In the morning he again set out to the palace. He began his work and did not look round once, andbehold! by evening it was all finished; he went home when it was still light.
Again they increased Emelian’s work, but Emelian finished it all in time and went home for the night as usual. A week passed. The King’s servants saw that they could not get the better of Emelian by giving him rough work so they gave him difficult work instead, but even that did not help. No matter what they set him to do—carpentering, stone-cutting, thatching—he got everything done in time and went home for the night to his wife. Another week passed.
The King summoned his servants and said, “Is it for nothing that I keep you? Two weeks have passed and still I do not see the fruits of your work. You promised to wear Emelian out with work and each night from my window I see him going home singing to himself. Are you making sport of me, eh?”
The King’s servants began to excuse themselves. “We are doing the best we can. We thought at first to wear him out with rough work, but you can’t get him anyhow.We set him all kinds of tasks, such as sweeping, but he doesn’t know what it means to be tired. Then we gave him difficult work, thinking that he wouldn’t have brains enough to do it, yet still, we couldn’t get the better of him. No matter what the work, he tackles it and gets it all done in time. He must either be extraordinarily strong or his wife must be a witch. We are sick of him ourselves. We want to set him such a task that he cannot possibly do. We thought of asking him to build a temple in a single day. You must send for him and command him to build a temple opposite the palace in a single day, and if he fails to do it, we can cut off his head for disobedience.”
The King sent for Emelian.
“Build me a new temple in the square opposite the palace; by to-morrow evening it must all be finished. If you do it, I will reward you; if not, I will cut off your head.”
Emelian listened to the King’s words; then turned and went his way home. When he got there he said to his wife, “Makeyourself ready, wife; we must run away or else we are both lost.”
“Why,” she said, “have you grown so faint-hearted that you want to run away?”
“How can I help it when the King commanded me to build a temple to-morrow before nightfall? If I fail to do it, he will have my head cut off. There is only one way out. We must run away while there is yet time.”
The wife did not approve of his words.
“The King has many soldiers; we shall not be able to escape them. And while you have strength enough you must obey the King’s command.”
“But how can I obey if it’s beyond my strength?”
“My dear, don’t get excited. Have your supper and go to bed; get up early in the morning and you’ll manage in good time.”
Emelian went to bed. His wife woke him in the morning.
“Go,” she said; “make haste and finish the temple. Here are nails and a hammer. There is still a day’s work for you left to do.”
Emelian set out. When he came to the square, there in the middle stood a new temple not quite finished. Emelian set to work to finish it and by the evening it was all done.
The King awoke and looking out of the palace window he saw a new temple in the square. Emelian was busy around, knocking a nail in here and there. The King was not pleased with the temple; he was annoyed that he had no pretext for cutting off Emelian’s head and taking his wife for himself.
Again the King summoned his servants.
“Emelian has done this task too,” he said, “and I have no reason for cutting off his head. This was not difficult enough; we must give him something more difficult still. You decide what it shall be, or else I’ll have your heads cut off first.”
And the servants bethought them to set Emelian to make a river that was to wind round the palace and have ships sailing on it.
The King summoned Emelian and set him the new task.
“If you could make a temple in a single night,” he said, “you can do this too. See that it is all finished by to-morrow, or else I shall cut off your head.”
Emelian’s spirits fell lower than ever and he went home to his wife in a sad mood.
“Why so sad?” asked his wife. “Has the King set you a new task?”
Emelian told her what it was.
“We must run away,” he concluded.
And the wife said, “We cannot escape the soldiers. You must obey.”
“But how can I?”
“My dear, don’t worry. Have your supper and go to bed. Get up early in the morning and all will be ready in time.”
Emelian went to bed. In the morning his wife woke him.
“Go to the palace,” she said; “everything is finished. Only by the harbour, opposite the palace, there is a little mound that wants levelling; take the spade and level it.”
Emelian set out. He came to the town and there around the palace a river flowed with ships sailing on it. Emelian went up to the harbour opposite the palace and hesaw an uneven place and began to level it.
The King awoke and looking out of his palace window he saw a river where there was not one before and ships were sailing on it and Emelian was levelling a little mound with his spade. And the King was alarmed. He took no pleasure in the river or the ships, he was only annoyed that he could not cut off Emelian’s head. “There is no task he cannot do,” he thought. “What shall we do now?”
And the King summoned his servants and conferred with them.
“Think of a task,” he said, “that will be beyond Emelian’s strength, for so far he has done everything we have thought of and I cannot take away his wife.”
And the courtiers thought for a long time, then came to the King and said, “You must summon Emelian and say to him, ‘Go to—I don’t know where, and bring me—I don’t know what.’ He won’t be able to escape you then, for wherever he goes you can say it was not the right place and whatever he brings was not theright thing. Then you can cut off his head and take away his wife.”
The King was pleased with the idea. He sent for Emelian and said to him, “Go to—I don’t know where, and bring me—I don’t know what. And if you don’t, I’ll cut off your head.”
Emelian went back to his wife and told her what the King had said. The wife reflected.
“Well,” she said. “Be it on the King’s own head what his courtiers have taught him. We must act with cunning now.”
She sat and thought it over for a while; then said to her husband, “You must go a long way to our old grandmother, a peasant soldier’s mother, and ask her to help you. She will give you something which you must take straight to the palace and I will be there already. I cannot escape them now; they will take me by force, but only for a short while. If you do what grandmother tells you, you will soon set me free.”
And the wife prepared Emelian for the journey and gave him a bundle and a spindle.
“Give grandmother this spindle,” she said; “by this she will know that you are my husband.”
And the wife showed him the way. Emelian left the town and saw some soldiers drilling. He stopped and watched them. The soldiers finished their drill and sat down to rest. Emelian approached them and asked, “Can you tell me, mates, how to get to—I don’t know where and bring back—I don’t know what.”
The soldiers were perplexed at his words.
“Who sent you?” they asked.
“The King,” he said.
“We too,” they said, “since the day we became soldiers want to go to—we don’t know where and find—we don’t know what, but we’ve never been able to find it and so cannot help you.”
Emelian sat with the soldiers awhile then went on his way. He wandered and wandered till he came to a wood. In the wood was a cottage and in the cottage sat an old woman, a peasant soldier’s mother, spinning at her wheel, and she wept as shespun and moistened her fingers with the tears that flowed from her eyes.
“Who are you?” she cried in anger when she saw Emelian.
Emelian gave her the spindle and said that his wife had sent him. The old woman instantly softened and began to ask him questions. And Emelian told her his whole story of how he had married the maiden and gone to live in the town, and how he had been taken to the King’s as a yard-porter, and of the work he had done in the palace, and the temple he had built in a night, and the river and ships he had made, and that now the King had sent him to—I don’t know where to bring back—I don’t know what.
The old woman listened to what he had to say and ceased her weeping. She began to mutter to herself, “The time has come, I see. Very well,” she said aloud; “sit down, my son, and have something to eat.”
Emelian had something to eat and the old woman said to him, “Here is a ball of thread; roll it before you and follow wherever it leads. You will have to go a longway, to the very sea. When you come to the sea you will see a large town. Ask to be allowed to stay the night in the outermost house and look for what you want there.”
“But by what signs shall I know it, grandmother?”
“When you see that which men listen to more than to father or mother, that will be the thing you want. Seize it and take it to the King. He will tell you you haven’t brought the right thing, and you must say to him, ‘If it is not the right thing then I must break it.’ Then strike this thing; carry it out to the river; break it and throw it into the water. Then you will get back your wife and dry up my tears.”
Emelian took leave of the grandmother and went where the ball of thread took him to. The ball rolled and rolled till it brought him to the sea, where there was a large town. Emelian knocked at a house and asked to be allowed to stay the night. The people let him in. He went to bed. In the morning he woke early and heardthe father of the house trying to wake his son to chop some wood. The son would not listen to him. “It is early yet,” he said, “there’s plenty of time.”
And he heard the mother near the stove say, “Do go, my son. Your father’s bones ache; surely you wouldn’t let him go? Get up.”
The son only smacked his lips and went to sleep again. He had no sooner fallen asleep than there was a banging and a rumbling in the street. The son jumped up, dressed and ran out. Emelian ran out after him to see what it was that a son obeyed more than father or mother.
When Emelian got outside he saw a man coming up the street carrying some round object on his belly that he was beating with sticks. It was this thing that had made the noise and that the son had obeyed. Emelian approached and examined it. The thing was round like a small tub with skin drawn tightly on either side of it.
“What is this thing called?” he asked.
“A drum,” they said.
“Is it empty?”
“Yes,” they said.
Emelian wondered and asked the people to give him the thing, but they would not. Emelian gave up asking and followed the drummer. He walked about the whole day and when the drummer went to bed at night, Emelian seized the drum and ran away with it. He ran and ran until he came to his own town. He wanted to give his wife a surprise, but she was not at home. She had been taken to the King the day after Emelian had left.
Emelian went to the palace and asked to be announced as the man who had gone to—I don’t know where and brought back—I don’t know what. The King was informed of his return and he ordered Emelian to come to him on the morrow. Emelian again demanded to see the King, saying, “I have brought back what I was ordered to; let the King come out to me, or I will go in to him myself.”
The King came out.
“Where have you been?” he asked.
Emelian told him.
“That was not the place,” he said. “And what have you brought?”
Emelian wanted to show him, but the King would not even look.
“That was not the thing,” he said.
“If it is not the thing,” Emelian said, “I must break it and let it go to the devil.”
Emelian came out of the palace and struck the drum. He had no sooner done so than all the King’s troops gathered around him. They saluted Emelian and waited for his commands. From the window of his palace the King called to the troops, forbidding them to follow Emelian, but the troops would not listen to the King and followed Emelian. When the King saw this he ordered Emelian’s wife to be given back to him and he begged Emelian to give him the drum.
“I can’t,” Emelian said. “I was told to break it and throw the bits into the river.”
Emelian took the drum to the river and the soldiers followed him. Emelian struck the drum and broke it into little bits which he threw into the water and the troopsall scattered and dispersed. And Emelian took his wife back home.
From that day the King left off worrying him and Emelian and his wife lived happily ever after.
A long, long time ago there was a big drought on the earth. All the rivers dried up and the streams and wells, and the trees withered and the bushes and grass, and men and beasts died of thirst.
One night a little girl went out with a pitcher to find some water for her sick mother. She wandered and wandered everywhere, but could find no water, and she grew so tired that she lay down on the grass and fell asleep. When she awoke and took up the pitcher she nearly upset the water it contained. The pitcher was full of clear, fresh water. The little girl was glad and was about to put it to her lips, but she remembered her mother and ran home with the pitcher as fast as she could. She hurried so much that she did not notice a little dog in her path; she stumbled over it and dropped the pitcher. The dog whinedpitifully; the little girl seized the pitcher.
She thought the water would have been upset, but the pitcher stood upright and the water was there as before. She poured a little into the palm of her hand and the dog lapped it and was comforted. When the little girl again took up the pitcher, it had turned from common wood to silver. She took the pitcher home and gave it to her mother.
The mother said, “I shall die just the same; you had better drink it,” and she handed the pitcher to the child. In that moment the pitcher turned from silver to gold. The little girl could no longer contain herself and was about to put the pitcher to her lips, when the door opened and a stranger entered who begged for a drink. The little girl swallowed her saliva and gave the pitcher to him. And suddenly seven large diamonds sprang out of the pitcher and a stream of clear, fresh water flowed from it. And the seven diamonds began to rise, and they rose higher and higher till they reached the sky and became the Great Bear.
Itonce occurred to a King that if he knew the right moment when to begin on any work and the right kind of people to have or not to have dealings with and the thing to do that was more important than any other thing, he would always be successful.
And he proclaimed throughout his kingdom that he would give a great reward to any one who could tell him what was the right moment for any action, and who were the most essential of all people, and what was the most essential thing of all to do.
Many learned men came to the King and answered his questions in different ways.
In answer to the first question some said that to know the right time for any action, one must draw up a time-table of all the days, months and years and observe it
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strictly, then one could do everything at the proper time. Others said that it was impossible to decide beforehand the proper time for any action; the only thing one could do was to waste no time in vain amusements, but to pay attention to what was going on around one, and to do the thing that came to hand. A third said that however attentive the King might be to what went on around him, one man alone could not decide the proper time for every action and that he needed a council of wise men to advise him. Still a fourth maintained that as certain action had to be decided at once and could not wait a council the proper thing to do was to find out beforehand what was going to happen so as to be always prepared. But as only magicians knew what was going to happen, then it followed that in order to find out the proper time for any action one must consult the magicians.
The second question, too, was answered in various ways. Some said that the most essential people to the King were his helpers and ministers; others said priests;still others that the most essential people to the King were doctors; a fourth party said that the most essential people to the King were soldiers.
To the third question about the most important occupation, some declared it was science, others, the art of war, and others, divine worship.
The answers being different, the King agreed with none of them and gave no man the promised reward. But still wishing to find out the answers to his questions, he resolved to consult a hermit who was famous throughout the land for his wisdom.
The hermit lived in a wood which he never left, and received none but common folk. For this reason the King put on simple garments, and, dismissing his body-guard before he reached the hermit’s cell, he climbed down from his horse and went the rest of the way alone and on foot.
He found the hermit digging a bed in front of the hermitage. When the hermit saw the King, he greeted him and went on with his digging. He was frail and thin and each time he dug his spade into the ground andturned over a little soil, he gasped for breath.
The King approached him and said, “I have come, oh, wise hermit, to ask you to give me the answers to these three questions—what hour must one remember and not allow to slip by, so as not to regret it afterwards? What people are the most essential and with whom should one or should one not have dealings? What things are the most essential to do and which of those things must one do first of all?”
The hermit heard what the King had to say, but made no reply. He spat on his hand and went on with his digging.
“You are tired,” the King said; “give me the spade and I will do the digging for you.”
The King took the spade and began to dig, but after a while he stopped and repeated his question. The hermit made no reply, but stretched out his hand for the spade.
“You rest now,” he said, “and I will work.”
But the King would not give up the spade and went on with the digging. One hourpassed and another; the sun began to set behind the trees when the King stuck his spade into the ground and said, “I came to you, wise man, to find the answers to my three questions. If you cannot answer them, then tell me and I will go my way home.”
“Some one is running hither,” the hermit said. “Let us see who it is.”
The King turned and saw a bearded man running towards them. The man’s hands were clasped over his stomach and the blood flowed from beneath them. He fell at the King’s feet and lay motionless, rolling his eyes and moaning faintly.
The King and the hermit unfastened the man’s clothes. He had a large wound in his stomach. The King bathed it as well as he could with his handkerchief and bandaged it with the hermit’s towel. The blood did not cease to flow, and several times the King had to remove the bandages, soaked with warm blood, and rebathe and rebandage the wound.
When the blood ceased to flow, the wounded man came to himself and askedfor some water. The King brought some fresh water and raised it to the wounded man’s lips.
The sun had quite set meanwhile and it began to get cold. The King, with the hermit’s help, carried the wounded man into the cell and put him on the bed. The wounded man shut his eyes and went to sleep. The King was so tired with the walk and the work that he curled up by the door and fell into a sound sleep. He slept through the whole mild summer night, and when he awoke in the morning he could not make out where he was and who was the strange bearded man staring at him from the bed with glistening eyes.
“Forgive me,” the bearded man said in a faint voice, when he saw that the King was awake and observing him.
“I don’t know you and have nothing to forgive you for,” the King said.
“You don’t know me, but I know you. I am your enemy who vowed to be revenged on you for having executed my brother and taken away my property: I knew that you went alone to the hermit and resolvedto kill you on your way back. But the day passed and you did not come. I lost patience and came out to find you, when I stumbled upon your body-guard. They recognized me and wounded me. I escaped from them, but would have died from loss of blood had you not bound my wound. I wanted to kill you and you saved my life. If I continue to live I will serve you as your most faithful slave should you desire it, and I will order my sons to do likewise. Forgive me.”
The King was very glad that he had been able to make peace with his enemy so easily, and not only forgave him but promised to return his property and to send him his own servants and physician.
Taking leave of the wounded man the King came out of the cell and sought for the hermit with his eyes. Before going away he wanted to ask him for the last time to answer his three questions. The hermit was on his knees by the beds they had dug yesterday, sowing vegetable seeds.
The King approached him and said,“For the last time, wise man, I ask you to answer my questions.”
“But they are answered already,” the hermit said, squatting on his emaciated legs and looking at up the King, who stood before him.
“How?” the King asked.
“Don’t you see?” the hermit began; “had you not pitied my weakness yesterday and dug these beds for me and gone back alone, the man would have attacked you and you would have regretted that you had not stayed with me. The important hour at the time was when you dug these beds, and I was the most essential person to you, and the most essential act was to do me a kindness. And later, when the man ran up, the most important hour was when you looked after him, for, had you not bandaged his wound, he would have died without making his peace with you. He was the most essential man to you at that time, and what you did for him was the most essential thing to be done. Always bear in mind that the most important time isnow, for it is the only timewe have any power over ourselves; the most essential man is the one with whom you happen to be at the moment, because you can never be sure whether you will ever have relations with any one else, and the most essential thing to do is a kindness to that man, for it was for this purpose we were sent into the world.”
[Image not available: THE GODSON. To face page 166.]THE GODSON.To face page 166.]
A son was born to a poor peasant. He rejoiced and went to a neighbour to ask him to stand as godfather to the boy. The neighbour refused. He did not want to be godfather to a poor man’s son. So the peasant went to another neighbour and he, too, refused. He walked from house to house, but could find no one who would be godfather to his son, so he set out to another village. On his way he met a stranger, who stopped him and said, “Good day, peasant; where are you going to?”
“God has given me a child,” the peasant said, “to gladden my sight in my youth, to comfort me in my old age and to pray for my soul when I die. No one in our village will be godfather to him, so I am going to seek one elsewhere.”
“Let me be his godfather,” the stranger said.
The peasant rejoiced. He thanked the stranger and said, “But whom shall I ask to be his godmother?”
“Go into the town,” the stranger said; “in the square you will see a stone house with shop windows; go in and ask the merchant to let his daughter stand as godmother to your son.”
The peasant was doubtful.
“But how can I ask a rich merchant? He will be too proud to let his daughter come to a poor man like me.”
“That won’t be your fault; go and ask him. Have everything ready by the morning and I’ll come to the christening.”
The peasant went home, then drove into the town to the merchant. He had no sooner stopped in the yard than the merchant came out.
“What do you want?” he asked.
“God has given me a child,” the peasant said, “to gladden my sight in my youth, to comfort me in my old age and to pray for my soul when I die. Will you be kindenough to let your daughter come and be godmother to the child?”
“When is the christening?”
“To-morrow morning.”
“Very well; go, in God’s name. To-morrow my daughter will be at the church.”
The next day the godmother and godfather came; the child was christened, but directly after the christening the godfather disappeared. No one knew who he was and no one saw him from that day.
The child grew up to the parents’ great joy; and he was strong and industrious and clever and humble. When he was ten years old the parents sent him to school, and what it took others five years to learn the boy learnt in one. And there was no one in the village who could teach him more.
Easter came round and the boy went to his godmother to give her the Easter greeting. When he returned home he said, “Father and mother, where does my godfather live? I should like to give him the Easter greeting, too.”
And the father said, “We don’t know where your godfather lives, dear son. We, too, have worried over that. We have not seen him since you were christened. We have not heard of him and don’t know where he lives, nor whether he is alive at all.”
The boy bowed to his father and mother.
“Let me go,” he said, “to seek my godfather. I want to find him and give him the Easter greeting.”
The father and mother gave their consent and the boy set out to find his godfather.
The boy left the house and set out on his way. About midday he met a stranger and the stranger stopped and said, “Good day to you, boy. Where are you going?”
And the boy said, “I went to my godmother to give her the Easter greeting and when I returned home I asked my parents where my godfather lived, because I wanted to give him the greeting too, but my parents said, ‘We don’t know where your godfatherlives, dear son. We have not heard of him since you were christened and we don’t know anything about him, or whether he is alive at all.’ And I wanted to see my godfather, so I am going to find him.”
“I am your godfather,” the stranger said.
The boy rejoiced and gave him the Easter greeting.
“Where are you going to, godfather? If you are going in our direction come in to us, or if you are going home, may I come with you?”
And the stranger said, “I have no time to come to you now, because I have some business in the villages. I shall not be home until to-morrow, then you can come to me if you like.”
“But how shall I find you, godfather?”
“Walk straight towards the east until you come to a wood in the midst of which you will find a clearing. Sit down to rest in that clearing and look about you to see what is happening. When you come out of the wood you will see a garden and in the garden is a house with a golden roof.That is my house. Go in at the gate; I will meet you there myself.”
Saying these words the godfather vanished from the godson’s sight.
The boy followed the godfather’s directions. He wandered and wandered till he came to a wood and found the clearing, and in the midst of the clearing stood a pine tree to a branch of which a heavy block of oak was attached with string, and beneath the block was a trough of honey. As the boy was wondering why the honey and the block were there, a crackling was heard among the trees and out came a family of bears. The mother came in front and a yearling and some cubs followed behind. The mother, sniffing the air, went straight to the trough, the cubs following. She thrust her muzzle into the honey and called to the cubs to do the same. They scampered up and thrust in their muzzles. The block swung back a little and returning, hit against the cubs. When the mother saw this, she shoved the block away withher paw. The block swung back further, and returning more forcibly struck one cub on the back, another on the head. The cubs jumped away, howling with pain. The mother bear growled, and seizing the block in her fore-paws, flung it away from her violently. The block flew up high. The yearling ran up to the trough, thrust his muzzle into the honey, the other cubs followed him, but no sooner had they got there than the block swung back, struck the yearling on the head and killed him. The mother-bear growled more angrily as she seized the block and flung it away with all her might. The block flew higher than the branch, the string it was tied to even slackened; the mother-bear and the cubs came up to the trough; the block flew higher and higher, then stopped and began to descend; the lower it got the swifter became its course. It crashed down on the mother-bear’s head. She fell over; her legs twitched and she died. The cubs ran away into the wood.
The boy wondered and went on further. He came to a large garden and in the garden was a high house with a golden roof. At the gate stood his godfather, smiling. He greeted his godson, made him come inside the gate and took him round the garden. He had never even dreamt of such beauty and joy as there was in that garden.
The godfather took the boy into the house and he found that more wonderful still. The godfather showed him all the rooms—one more beautiful than the other—then he brought him to a sealed door. “Do you see this door?” he asked. “It is not locked, only sealed. It can be opened, but I forbid you to do it. You can live here and go where you like and do what you like; taste of every pleasure; I forbid you only one thing—to pass that door. But if it should happen that you do go in, remember what you saw in the wood.” With these words the godfather went away, and the godson was left alone. His life was so full of pleasure and such a happy one thatwhen he had been there thirty years it seemed to him no more than three hours. Thus the thirty years passed and the godson came to the sealed door, thinking, “I wonder why my godfather forbade me to go into this room? I will go in and see what is there.”
He pushed the door; the seal gave way and the door opened. The godson went in and saw that the room was large and more beautiful than all the others, and in the middle of it stood a golden throne. The godson wandered and wandered over the room; then he stopped by the throne, mounted the steps and sat down. He saw a sceptre by the throne and he took it up in his hand. He had no sooner touched the sceptre than the walls of the room rolled asunder. The godson looked about and saw the whole world and everything people were doing in it. Straight before him was the sea and ships sailing on it. To the right were foreign lands, where heathens lived. To the left were Christians, but not Russians. On the fourth side were our own Russian people.
“I will look and see what is happening at home,” he said. “I wonder if the corn is good this year?”
He looked at his father’s fields and saw the sheaves standing in them. He began to count the sheaves to see if the harvest had been good, when he saw a cart coming over the field with a peasant sitting in it. He looked closer and saw that it was Vasily, a thief. Vasily stopped by the sheaves and began putting them into the cart. The godson could not endure this and cried aloud, “Father, they are stealing your sheaves!”
The father awoke in the night. “I dreamt that some one was stealing my sheaves,” he said; “I will go and see.” He got upon his horse and rode out.
When he got to the fields he saw Vasily and called aloud for help. Some peasants came up. Vasily was beaten, bound and taken to prison.
The godson then looked towards the town where his godmother lived and saw that she had married a merchant. She was lying in bed and her husband got up to leaveher to go to another woman. And the godson cried aloud to his godmother, “Get up! Your husband is going to do something wicked!”
The godmother jumped up, dressed and set out to find her husband. She brought him to shame, beat the other woman and would not take her husband back again.
The godson looked again towards his home and saw his mother lying in the house and that a robber had stolen in and was breaking open a trunk. The mother awoke and cried out in terror. The robber raised his axe, and was about to kill her, but the godson could endure no more; he thrust the sceptre straight into the robber’s temple and killed him on the spot.
He had no sooner slain the robber than the walls rose up again and the room became as before.
The door opened and the godfather entered. He approached the godson, took him by the hand, led him from the throne and said, “You did not obey my commands.You did one wrong thing in opening the forbidden door, another when you mounted the throne and took my sceptre into your hand, and a third wrong, which has added to the evil in the world. Had you sat on the throne an hour longer, you would have ruined half mankind.”
And the godfather once more led the godson up to the throne and he took the sceptre in his hand and the walls rolled asunder.
And the godfather said, “See what you have done to your father. Vasily sat in prison for a year and learnt every kind of wickedness and came out completely corrupted. See, he has driven off two of your father’s horses and is now setting fire to his barns. This is what you have done to your father.”
As soon as the godson saw his father’s barns burst into flame the godfather hid the view from his sight and bade him look in another direction.
“See,” he said; “it is now a year since your godmother’s husband left her, and he goes after other women and his wife hastaken to drink and his former mistress has fallen to still lower depths. This is what you have done to your godmother.”
This sight, too, he hid from the godson’s gaze and bade him look towards his own home. His mother was weeping and saying, “It would have been better if the robber had killed me than that I should have so many sins on my soul.”
“This is what you have done to your mother.”
This sight, too, the godfather shut out and bade the godson look below. And he saw two keepers guarding the robber in a dungeon.
And the godfather said, “This man has killed nine people. He should have atoned for his sins himself, but in killing him you have taken them upon your own soul. Now you must answer for all his sins. This is what you have done to yourself. When the mother-bear first pushed the block aside she merely disturbed her cubs; when she pushed it a second time, she killed her yearling; when she pushed it a third time, she was killed herself. You have doneexactly the same. I give you a term of thirty years. Go into the world and atone for the robber’s sins; if you fail to do so, you will have to take his place.”
“But how shall I atone for his sins?” the godson asked.
And the godfather said, “When you have rid the world of as much evil as you brought into it, then you will have atoned for your own and the robber’s sins.”
And the godson asked, “How can I rid the world of evil?”
And the godfather said, “Walk straight towards the east until you come to some fields on which you will find some people. Take note of what they are doing and teach them what you know, then go on further, observing everything on the way. On the fourth day you will come to a wood in which you will find a cell, and in this cell a hermit lives. Tell this hermit all that has happened and he will instruct you in what you are to do. When you have done all that the hermit has told you, you will have atoned for your own and the robber’s sins.”
With these words the godfather put the godson out at the gate.
And the godson set out, thinking as he walked, “How can I rid the world of evil? People rid the world of evil by banishing evil men or putting them in prison or executing them. But how can I rid the world of evil without taking other men’s sins upon myself?” And the godson wondered and wondered, but could come to no decision.
He wandered and wandered till he came to a field on which tall rich corn was growing, ready to be harvested. And the godson saw a calf that had strayed in among the corn and he saw men on horseback chasing the calf this way and that and trampling down the corn. Each time the calf was about to come out of the corn some one rode up and the calf got frightened and ran back again, the men after it. In the road stood a woman, crying, “They will chase my calf to death!”
And the godson said to the men, “Whatare you doing? Come out of the corn and let the woman call to her calf.”
The men did so. The woman came up to the edge of the field and called to the calf, who pricked up its ears, listening awhile, then it ran towards her and buried its nose in her skirts, nearly knocking her down. The men were glad, and the woman was glad, and the calf, too, was glad.
The godson went on his way thinking, “I see that evil breeds evil. The more people try to drive away evil, the more the evil grows, which shows that it is impossible to drive out evil by evil. But how can one drive it out? I don’t know. It is well that the calf obeyed its mistress; if it had not done so, how should we have got it out of the corn?”
And the godson wondered and wondered, but could come to no decision and went on further.
He wandered and wandered till he came to a village where he asked to be allowed to stay the night at the first house. The mistress let him in. Besides herself no onewas in the house. The mistress was busy cleaning.
When the godson came in he climbed on to the stove and began watching to see what the mistress was doing. She had finished cleaning the floor and was scrubbing the table. She scrubbed it and wiped it with a dirty cloth. She rubbed the cloth one way, but the table would not come clean. The cloth left streaks of dirt. She rubbed it the other way—the first streaks came out, new ones were made. She rubbed it lengthwise again and the same thing happened. The dirty cloth rubbed out one streak of dirt and left another. The godson watched for some time and then said, “What are you doing, mistress?”
“Don’t you see that I’m cleaning the house for the festival? I can’t get the table clean, anyhow. The dirt will not come off and I’m quite worn out.”
“You should rinse out the cloth, then wipe the table.”
The mistress did as he told her and the table came clean. “Thank you,” she said, “for your lesson.”
In the morning the godson took leave of the mistress and went on further. He wandered and wandered till he came to a wood where he saw some peasants making hoops. He approached them and saw them struggling and struggling, but they could not bend the wood. He looked closer and saw that the block on which they were working was not firmly fixed. And the godson said, “What are you doing, brothers?”
“Making hoops, as you see. We have steamed the wood twice, yet cannot bend it. We are quite worn out.”
“You should fix the block more firmly, mates. It moves round with you as it is.”
The peasants did so and their work went smoothly afterwards.
The godson stayed the night with them, then went on his way. He walked the whole of that day and the night and just before daybreak he came upon some shepherds encamped for the night, and joined them. They had settled their cattle and were trying to light a fire. They took some dry twigs and lighted them, and not giving them time to burn up, they putsome damp brushwood on top and smothered the fire. The shepherds took some more dry twigs and lighted them, and again they smothered the fire with damp brushwood. For a long time they struggled, but could get no fire.
And the godson said, “Don’t be in such a hurry to put on the brushwood, but wait until the twigs have caught well. When the fire gets hot then you can put on the brushwood.”
The shepherds did as he told them. When the twigs had caught well, they put on the brushwood, and in a few minutes they had a blazing fire.
The godson stayed with them for a while then went on further. He wondered what these three things he had seen might mean, but could not understand, nor see the reason of them.
The godson wandered and wandered until nightfall, when he came to a wood, and in the wood was a cell. He went up to the cell and knocked at the door.
A voice from within asked, “Who is that?”
“A great sinner. I have come to atone for the sins of another.”
And the hermit asked, “What are these sins you have taken upon yourself?”
And the godson told him everything about his godfather and the mother-bear and the cubs and about the throne in the sealed room, and about his godfather’s commands, and about the peasants who had trampled the corn in the field, and the calf that had come to its mistress at her call.
“I know now,” he said, “that you cannot drive out evil by evil, but I don’t know how it can be driven out and I want you to tell me.”
And the hermit said, “Tell me what else you have seen on the way?”
The godson told him about the woman and how she had tried to clean the table, and of the peasants who had tried to make the hoops, and the shepherds who had tried to light a fire.
The hermit waited until he had finished,then he went into his cell and brought out a jagged axe.
“Come,” he said.
The hermit walked away from the cell and pointed to a tree. “Cut it down,” he said.
The godson felled it.
“Chop it into three parts.”
The godson chopped it into three parts. The hermit again went into his cell and brought out a light.
“Set fire to those three logs,” he said.
The godson made a fire and burnt the three logs till only three pieces of charcoal were left.
“Now plant them half into the ground, like this.”
The godson planted them.
“Do you see a river there by that hill? Fetch some water in your mouth and water them. Water this one in the way you taught the woman to clean, this one in the way you taught the hoopers, and this one in the way you taught the shepherds. When the three pieces of charcoal grow into apple-trees you will know how to ridthe world of evil, and will then have atoned for your sins.”
With these words the hermit went into his cell. The godson pondered and pondered and could not understand what the hermit had said, but he did what the hermit had told him.
The godson went to the river, filled his mouth with water and watered one piece of charcoal; then he went again and again, until he had watered the other two. The godson was tired and hungry. He went to the hermit’s cell to ask for some food. When he opened the door there was the hermit lying dead on a bench. The godson looked about the cell and found some rusks, which he ate; then he discovered a spade and went out to dig a grave for the old man. By night he carried water to water the pieces of charcoal, and by day he dug the grave. He had no sooner finished it and was about to bury the hermit, when some people came from the village to bring the hermit food.
When the people heard that the hermit was dead they asked the godson to take his place. They buried the hermit, left the bread with the godson and went away, promising to bring him more food later on.
And the godson fell into the hermit’s place and he lived and nourished himself with the food people brought him, and went on watering the pieces of charcoal as the hermit had bidden him do.
The godson lived thus for a year and many people began to visit him. He grew famous throughout the country as a saint who saved his soul by carrying water in his mouth from beneath a hill, and watering stumps of charcoal. People flocked to him. Rich merchants brought him gifts, but the godson used nothing but what he needed, giving the rest to the poor.
And the godson began to live thus—for half the day he carried water in his mouth to water the pieces of charcoal, for the other half he rested and received people.
And the godson came to think that he had been told to live thus and that in this way he would atone for his sins.
The godson lived thus for another year, not missing a single day for watering the charcoal, yet not a single piece had begun to sprout.
One day when he was sitting in his cell he heard a horseman gallop past, singing to himself. The hermit came out to see what manner of man he was. And he saw that the man was young and strong and was dressed in fine clothes and seated on a spirited horse.
The godson stopped him and asked him who he was and where he was going. The man pulled up.
“I am a robber,” he said; “I roam the highway and kill whomever I have a mind to. The more men I kill the merrier are my songs.”
The godson was horrified and thought, “How can one destroy evil in such a man? It is well to talk to the people who come to me; they repent of their own accord, but this man glories in the evil he does.” The godson said nothing to him and turned away, thinking, “What shall I do? If this robber makes up his mind to stay here,he will scare away my people and no one will come to see me. They will lose some good thereby, and I shall have nothing to live on.”
And the godson stopped and said to the robber, “People come to me not to boast of the evil they do, but to repent and pray for their sins to be forgiven them. You repent likewise, if you have the fear of God in your heart, and if you do not seek repentance, go away from this place and do not come back again, so as not to hinder me or scare away my people. If you fail to listen to my words God will punish you.”
The robber laughed.
“I am not afraid of your God and I won’t listen to you. You are not my master to order me about. You live by your piety, I by my robbery. We must all live. Teach the women who come to you, but let me alone. Since you have dared to mention the name of God to me I will kill two extra people to-morrow. I would kill you now, only I don’t want to soil my hands, but take care never to cross my path again.”
The robber threatened him thus and rodeaway. He did not come again and the godson lived in the hermitage as before for another eight years.