And he walked from village to village as he had done on his way to Páshenka, meeting and parting from other pilgrims, men and women, and asking for bread and a night’s rest in Christ’s name. Occasionally some angry housewife scolded him, or a drunken peasant reviled him, but for the most part he was given food and drink and even something to take with him. His noble bearing disposed some people in his favour, while others on the contrary seemed pleased at the sight of a gentleman who had come to beggary.
But his gentleness prevailed with everyone.
Often, finding a copy of the Gospels in a hut he would read it aloud, and when they heard him the people were always touched and surprised, as at something new yet familiar.
When he succeeded in helping people, either by advice, or by his knowledge of reading and writing, or by settling some quarrel, he did not wait to see their gratitude but went away directly afterwards. And little by little God began to reveal Himself within him.
Once he was walking along with two old women and a soldier. They were stopped by a party consisting of a lady and gentleman in a gig and another lady and gentleman on horseback. The husband was on horseback with his daughter, while in the gig his wife was driving with a Frenchman, evidently a traveller.
The party stopped to let the Frenchman see the pilgrims who, in accord with a popular Russian superstition, tramped about from place to place instead of working.
They spoke French, thinking that the others would not understand them.
‘Demandez-leur,’ said the Frenchman, ‘s’ils sont bien sûr de ce que leur pèlerinage est agréable à Dieu.’6
The question was asked, and one old woman replied: ‘As God takes it. Our feet have reached the holy places, but our hearts may not have done so.’
They asked the soldier. He said that he was alone in the world and had nowhere else to go.
They asked Kasàtsky who he was.
‘A servant of God.’
‘Qu’est-ce qu’il dit? Il ne répond pas.’7
‘Il dit qu’il est un serviteur de Dieu. Cela doit ětre un fils de prětre. Il a de la race. Avez-vous de la petite monnaie?8
The Frenchman found some small change and gave twenty kopeks to each of the pilgrims.
‘Mais dites-leur que ce n’est pas pour les cierges que je leur donne, mais pour qu’ils se régalent de thé. Chay, chay pour vous, mon vieux!’9 he said with a smile. And he patted Kasátsky on the shoulder with his gloved hand.
‘May Christ bless you,’ replied Kasátsky without replacing his cap and bowing his bald head.
He rejoiced particularly at this meeting, because he had disregarded the opinion of men and had done the simplest, easiest thing – humbly accepted twenty kopeks and given them to his comrade, a blind beggar. The less importance he attached to the opinion of men the more did he feel the presence of God within him.
For eight months Kasátsky tramped on in this manner, and in the ninth month he was arrested for not having a passport. This happened at a night-refuge in a provincial town where he had passed the night with some pilgrims. He was taken to the police-station, and when asked who he was and where was his passport, he replied that he had no passport and that he was a servant of God. He was classed as a tramp, sentenced, and sent to live in Siberia.
In Siberia he has settled down as the hired man of a well-to-do peasant, in which capacity he works in the kitchen-garden, teaches children, and attends to the sick.
1 1st October o.s.
2 ‘Lise, look to the right. That is he.’
3 ‘Where? Where? He is not so very handsome.’
4 Páshenka is a familiar pet name. Praskóvya Mikháylovna (Michael’s daughter) is the full Christian name and patronymic proper when formally addressing an adult.
5 ‘Sometimes two shillings, sometimes one, or sometimes sevenpence.’
6 ‘Ask them whether they are quite sure that their pilgrimage pleases God.’
7 ‘What does he say? He does not answer.’
8 ‘He says that he is a servant of God. That one is probably a priest’s son. He is not a common man. Have you any small change?’
9 ‘But tell them that I give it them not to spend on church candles, but that they should have some tea. Tea, tea for you, old fellow.’
THE EMPTY DRUM (A FOLK-TALE LONG CURRENT IN
THE REGION OF THE VOLGA)
EMELYÁN was a labourer and worked for a master. Crossing the meadows one day on his way to work, he nearly trod on a frog that jumped right in front of him, but he just managed to avoid it. Suddenly he heard someone calling to him from behind.
Emelyán looked round and saw a lovely lassie, who said to him: ‘Why don’t you get married, Emelyán?’
‘How can I marry, my lass?’ said he. ‘I have but the clothes I stand up in, nothing more, and no one would have me for a husband.’
‘Take me for a wife,’ said she.
Emelyán liked the maid. ‘I should be glad to,’ said he, ‘but where and how could we live?’
‘Why trouble about that?’ said the girl. ‘One only has to work more and sleep less, and one can clothe and feed oneself anywhere.’
‘Very well then, let us marry,’ said Emelyán. ‘Where shall we go to?’
‘Let us go to town.’
So Emelyán and the lass went to town, and she took him to a small hut on the very edge of the town, and they married and began housekeeping.
One day the King, driving through the town, passed by Emelyán’s hut. Emelyán’s wife came out to see the King. The King noticed her and was quite surprised.
‘Where did such a beauty come from?’ said he; and stopping his carriage he called Emelyán’s wife and asked her: ‘Who are you?’
‘The peasant Emelyán’s wife,’ said she.
‘Why did you, who are such a beauty, marry a peasant?’ said the King. ‘You ought to be a queen!’
‘Thank you for your kind words,’ said she, ‘but a peasant husband is good enough for me.’
The King talked to her awhile and then drove on. He returned to the palace, but could not get Emelyán’s wife out of his head. All night he did not sleep, but kept thinking how to get her for himself. He could think of no way of doing it, so he called his servants and told them they must find a way.
The King’s servants said: ‘Command Emelyán to come to the palace to work, and we will work him so hard that he will die. His wife will be left a widow, and then you can take her for yourself.’
The messengers followed their advice. He sent an order that Emelyán should come to the palace as a workman, and that he should live at the palace, and his wife with him.
The messengers came to Emelyán and gave him the King’s message. His wife said, ‘Go, Emelyán; work all day, but come back home at night.’
So Emelyán went, and when he got to the palace the King’s steward asked him, ‘Why have you come alone, without your wife?’
‘Why should I drag her about?’ said Emelyán. ‘She has a house to live in.’
At the King’s palace they gave Emelyán work enough for two. He began the job not hoping to finish it; but when evening came, lo and behold! it was all done. The steward saw that it was finished, and set him four times as much for next day.
Emelyán went home. Everything there was swept and tidy; the oven was heated, his supper was cooked and ready, and his wife sat by the table sewing and waiting for his return. She greeted him, laid the table, gave him to eat and drink, and then began to ask him about his work.
‘Ah!’ said he, ‘it’s a bad business: they give me tasks beyond my strength, and want to kill me with work.’