PeasantsINIKOLAY TCHIKILDYEEV , a waiter in the Moscow hotel , Slavyansky Bazaar , was taken ill . His legs went numb and his gait was affected , so that on one occasion , as he was going along the corridor , he tumbled and fell down with a tray full of ham and peas . He had to leave his job . All his own savings and his wife ' s were spent on doctors and medicines ; they had nothing left to live upon . He felt dull with no work to do , and he made up his mind he must go home to the village . It is better to be ill at home , and living there is cheaper ; and it is a true saying that the walls of home are a help . He reached Zhukovo towards evening . In his memories of childhood he had pictured his home as bright , snug , comfortable . Now , going into the hut , he was positively frightened ; it was so dark , so crowded , so unclean . His wife Olga and his daughter Sasha , who had come with him , kept looking in bewilderment at the big untidy stove , which filled up almost half the hut and was black with soot and flies . What lots of flies ! The stove was on one side , the beams lay slanting on the walls , and it looked as though the hut were just going to fall to pieces . In the corner , facing the door , under the holy images , bottle labels and newspaper cuttings were stuck on the walls instead of pictures . The poverty , the poverty ! Of the grown - up people there were none at home ; all were at work at the harvest . on the stove was sitting a white - headed girl of eight , unwashed and apathetic ; she did not even glance at them as they came in . on the floor a white cat was rubbing itself against the oven fork . " Puss , puss ! " Sasha called to her . " Puss ! " " She can ' t hear , " said the little girl ; " she has gone deaf . " " How is that ? " " Oh , she was beaten . " Nikolay and Olga realized from the first glance what life was like here , but said nothing to one another ; in silence they put down their bundles , and went out into the village street . Their hut was the third from the end , and seemed the very poorest and oldest - looking ; the second was not much better ; but the last one had an iron roof , and curtains in the windows . That hut stood apart , not enclosed ; it was a tavern . The huts were in a single row , and the whole of the little village -- quiet and dreamy , with willows , elders , and mountain - ash trees peeping out from the yards -- had an attractive look . Beyond the peasants homesteads there was a slope down to the river , so steep and precipitous that huge stones jutted out bare here and there through the clay . Down the slope , among the stones and holes dug by the potters , ran winding paths ; bits of broken pottery , some brown , some red , lay piled up in heaps , and below there stretched a broad , level , bright green meadow , from which the hay had been already carried , and in which the peasants ' cattle were wandering . The river , three - quarters of a mile from the village , ran twisting and turning , with beautiful leafy banks ; beyond it was again a broad meadow , a herd of cattle , long strings of white geese ; then , just as on the near side , a steep ascent uphill , and on the top of the hill a hamlet , and a church with five domes , and at a little distance the manor - house . " It ' s lovely here in your parts ! " said Olga , crossing herself at the sight of the church . " What space , oh Lord ! " Just at that moment the bell began ringing for service ( it was Saturday evening ) . Two little girls , down below , who were dragging up a pail of water , looked round at the church to listen to the bell . " At this time they are serving the dinners at the Slavyansky Bazaar , " said Nikolay dreamily . Sitting on the edge of the slope , Nikolay and Olga watched the sun setting , watched the gold and crimson sky reflected in the river , in the church windows , and in the whole air -- which was soft and still and unutterably pure as it never was in Moscow . And when the sun had set the flocks and herds passed , bleating and lowing ; geese flew across from the further side of the river , and all sank into silence ; the soft light died away in the air , and the dusk of evening began quickly moving down upon them . Meanwhile Nikolay ' s father and mother , two gaunt , bent , toothless old people , just of the same height , came back . The women -- the sisters - in - law Marya and Fyokla -- who had been working on the landowner ' s estate beyond the river , arrived home , too . Marya , the wife of Nikolay ' s brother Kiryak , had six children , and Fyokla , the wife of Nikolay ' s brother Denis -- who had gone for a soldier -- had two ; and when Nikolay , going into the hut , saw all the family , all those bodies big and little moving about on the lockers , in the hanging cradles and in all the corners , and when he saw the greed with which the old father and the women ate the black bread , dipping it in water , he realized he had made a mistake in coming here , sick , penniless , and with a family , too -- a great mistake ! " And where is Kiryak ? " he asked after they had exchanged greetings . " He is in service at the merchant ' s , " answered his father ; " a keeper in the woods . He is not a bad peasant , but too fond of his glass . " " He is no great help ! " said the old woman tearfully . " Our men are a grievous lot ; they bring nothing into the house , but take plenty out . Kiryak drinks , and so does the old man ; it is no use hiding a sin ; he knows his way to the tavern . The Heavenly Mother is wroth . " In honour of the visitors they brought out the samovar . The tea smelt of fish ; the sugar was grey and looked as though it had been nibbled ; cockroaches ran to and fro over the bread and among the crockery . It was disgusting to drink , and the conversation was disgusting , too -- about nothing but poverty and illnesses . But before they had time to empty their first cups there came a loud , prolonged , drunken shout from the yard : " Ma - arya ! " " It looks as though Kiryak were coming , " said the old man . " Speak of the devil . " All were hushed . And again , soon afterwards , the same shout , coarse and drawn - out as though it came out of the earth : " Ma - arya ! " Marya , the elder sister - in - law , turned pale and huddled against the stove , and it was strange to see the look of terror on the face of the strong , broad - shouldered , ugly woman . Her daughter , the child who had been sitting on the stove and looked so apathetic , suddenly broke into loud weeping . " What are you howling for , you plague ? " Fyokla , a handsome woman , also strong and broad - shouldered , shouted to her . " He won ' t kill you , no fear ! " From his old father Nikolay learned that Marya was afraid to live in the forest with Kiryak , and that when he was drunk he always came for her , made a row , and beat her mercilessly . " Ma - arya ! " the shout sounded close to the door . " Protect me , for Christ ' s sake , good people ! " faltered Marya , breathing as though she had been plunged into very cold water . " Protect me , kind people . . . . " All the children in the hut began crying , and looking at them , Sasha , too , began to cry . They heard a drunken cough , and a tall , black - bearded peasant wearing a winter cap came into the hut , and was the more terrible because his face could not be seen in the dim light of the little lamp . It was Kiryak . Going up to his wife , he swung his arm and punched her in the face with his fist . Stunned by the blow , she did not utter a sound , but sat down , and her nose instantly began bleeding . " What a disgrace ! What a disgrace ! " muttered the old man , clambering up on to the stove . " Before visitors , too ! It ' s a sin ! " The old mother sat silent , bowed , lost in thought ; Fyokla rocked the cradle . Evidently conscious of inspiring fear , and pleased at doing so , Kiryak seized Marya by the arm , dragged her towards the door , and bellowed like an animal in order to seem still more terrible ; but at that moment he suddenly caught sight of the visitors and stopped . " Oh , they have come , . . . " he said , letting his wife go ; " my own brother and his family . . . . " Staggering and opening wide his red , drunken eyes , he said his prayer before the image and went on : " My brother and his family have come to the parental home . . . from Moscow , I suppose . The great capital Moscow , to be sure , the mother of cities . . . . Excuse me . " He sank down on the bench near the samovar and began drinking tea , sipping it loudly from the saucer in the midst of general silence . . . . He drank off a dozen cups , then reclined on the bench and began snoring . They began going to bed . Nikolay , as an invalid , was put on the stove with his old father ; Sasha lay down on the floor , while Olga went with the other women into the barn . " Aye , aye , dearie , " she said , lying down on the hay beside Marya ; " you won ' t mend your trouble with tears . Bear it in patience , that is all . It is written in the Scriptures : ' If anyone smite thee on the right cheek , offer him the left one also . ' . . . Aye , aye , dearie . " Then in a low singsong murmur she told them about Moscow , about her own life , how she had been a servant in furnished lodgings . " And in Moscow the houses are big , built of brick , " she said ; " and there are ever so many churches , forty times forty , dearie ; and they are all gentry in the houses , so handsome and so proper ! " Marya told her that she had not only never been in Moscow , but had not even been in their own district town ; she could not read or write , and knew no prayers , not even " Our Father . " Both she and Fyokla , the other sister - in - law , who was sitting a little way off listening , were extremely ignorant and could understand nothing . They both disliked their husbands ; Marya was afraid of Kiryak , and whenever he stayed with her she was shaking with fear , and always got a headache from the fumes of vodka and tobacco with which he reeked . And in answer to the question whether she did not miss her husband , Fyokla answered with vexation : " Miss him ! " They talked a little and sank into silence . It was cool , and a cock crowed at the top of his voice near the barn , preventing them from sleeping . When the bluish morning light was already peeping through all the crevices , Fyokla got up stealthily and went out , and then they heard the sound of her bare feet running off somewhere . IIOlga went to church , and took Marya with her . As they went down the path towards the meadow both were in good spirits . Olga liked the wide view , and Marya felt that in her sister - in - law she had someone near and akin to her . The sun was rising . Low down over the meadow floated a drowsy hawk . The river looked gloomy ; there was a haze hovering over it here and there , but on the further bank a streak of light already stretched across the hill . The church was gleaming , and in the manor garden the rooks were cawing furiously . " The old man is all right , " Marya told her , " but Granny is strict ; she is continually nagging . Our own grain lasted till Carnival . We buy flour now at the tavern . She is angry about it ; she says we eat too much . " " Aye , aye , dearie ! Bear it in patience , that is all . It is written : ' Come unto Me , all ye that labour and are heavy laden . ' " Olga spoke sedately , rhythmically , and she walked like a pilgrim woman , with a rapid , anxious step . Every day she read the gospel , read it aloud like a deacon ; a great deal of it she did not understand , but the words of the gospel moved her to tears , and words like " forasmuch as " and " verily " she pronounced with a sweet flutter at her heart . She believed in God , in the Holy Mother , in the Saints ; she believed one must not offend anyone in the world -- not simple folks , nor Germans , nor gypsies , nor Jews -- and woe even to those who have no compassion on the beasts . She believed this was written in the Holy Scriptures ; and so , when she pronounced phrases from Holy Writ , even though she did not understand them , her face grew softened , compassionate , and radiant . " What part do you come from ? " Marya asked her . " I am from Vladimir . only I was taken to Moscow long ago , when I was eight years old . " They reached the river . on the further side a woman was standing at the water ' s edge , undressing . " It ' s our Fyokla , " said Marya , recognizing her . " She has been over the river to the manor yard . To the stewards . She is a shameless hussy and foul - mouthed -- fearfully ! " Fyokla , young and vigorous as a girl , with her black eyebrows and her loose hair , jumped off the bank and began splashing the water with her feet , and waves ran in all directions from her . " Shameless -- dreadfully ! " repeated Marya . The river was crossed by a rickety little bridge of logs , and exactly below it in the clear , limpid water was a shoal of broad - headed mullets . The dew was glistening on the green bushes that looked into the water . There was a feeling of warmth ; it was comforting ! What a lovely morning ! And how lovely life would have been in this world , in all likelihood , if it were not for poverty , horrible , hopeless poverty , from which one can find no refuge ! one had only to look round at the village to remember vividly all that had happened the day before , and the illusion of happiness which seemed to surround them vanished instantly . They reached the church . Marya stood at the entrance , and did not dare to go farther . She did not dare to sit down either . Though they only began ringing for mass between eight and nine , she remained standing the whole time . While the gospel was being read the crowd suddenly parted to make way for the family from the great house . Two young girls in white frocks and wide - brimmed hats walked in ; with them a chubby , rosy boy in a sailor suit . Their appearance touched Olga ; she made up her mind from the first glance that they were refined , well - educated , handsome people . Marya looked at them from under her brows , sullenly , dejectedly , as though they were not human beings coming in , but monsters who might crush her if she did not make way for them . And every time the deacon boomed out something in his bass voice she fancied she heard " Ma - arya ! " and she shuddered . IIIThe arrival of the visitors was already known in the village , and directly after mass a number of people gathered together in the hut . The Leonytchevs and Matvyeitchevs and the Ilyitchovs came to inquire about their relations who were in service in Moscow . All the lads of Zhukovo who could read and write were packed off to Moscow and hired out as butlers or waiters ( while from the village on the other side of the river the boys all became bakers ) , and that had been the custom from the days of serfdom long ago when a certain Luka Ivanitch , a peasant from Zhukovo , now a legendary figure , who had been a waiter in one of the Moscow clubs , would take none but his fellow - villagers into his service , and found jobs for them in taverns and restaurants ; and from that time the village of Zhukovo was always called among the inhabitants of the surrounding districts Slaveytown . Nikolay had been taken to Moscow when he was eleven , and Ivan Makaritch , one of the Matvyeitchevs , at that time a headwaiter in the " Hermitage " garden , had put him into a situation . And now , addressing the Matvyeitchevs , Nikolay said emphatically : " Ivan Makaritch was my benefactor , and I am bound to pray for him day and night , as it is owing to him I have become a good man . " " My good soul ! " a tall old woman , the sister of Ivan Makaritch , said tearfully , " and not a word have we heard about him , poor dear . " " In the winter he was in service at Omon ' s , and this season there was a rumour he was somewhere out of town , in gardens . . . . He has aged ! In old days he would bring home as much as ten roubles a day in the summer - time , but now things are very quiet everywhere . The old man frets . " The women looked at Nikolay ' s feet , shod in felt boots , and at his pale face , and said mournfully : " You are not one to get on , Nikolay Osipitch ; you are not one to get on ! No , indeed ! " And they all made much of Sasha . She was ten years old , but she was little and very thin , and might have been taken for no more than seven . Among the other little girls , with their sunburnt faces and roughly cropped hair , dressed in long faded smocks , she with her white little face , with her big dark eyes , with a red ribbon in her hair , looked funny , as though she were some little wild creature that had been caught and brought into the hut . " She can read , too , " Olga said in her praise , looking tenderly at her daughter . " Read a little , child ! " she said , taking the gospel from the corner . " You read , and the good Christian people will listen . " The testament was an old and heavy one in leather binding , with dog ' s - eared edges , and it exhaled a smell as though monks had come into the hut . Sasha raised her eyebrows and began in a loud rhythmic chant : " ' And the angel of the Lord . . . appeared unto Joseph , saying unto him : Rise up , and take the Babe and His mother . ' " " The Babe and His mother , " Olga repeated , and flushed all over with emotion . " ' And flee into Egypt , . . . and tarry there until such time as . . . ' " At the word " tarry " Olga could not refrain from tears . Looking at her , Marya began to whimper , and after her Ivan Makaritch ' s sister . The old father cleared his throat , and bustled about to find something to give his grand - daughter , but , finding nothing , gave it up with a wave of his hand . And when the reading was over the neighbours dispersed to their homes , feeling touched and very much pleased with Olga and Sasha . As it was a holiday , the family spent the whole day at home . The old woman , whom her husband , her daughters - in - law , her grandchildren all alike called Granny , tried to do everything herself ; she heated the stove and set the samovar with her own hands , even waited at the midday meal , and then complained that she was worn out with work . And all the time she was uneasy for fear someone should eat a piece too much , or that her husband and daughters - in - law would sit idle . At one time she would hear the tavern - keeper ' s geese going at the back of the huts to her kitchen - garden , and she would run out of the hut with a long stick and spend half an hour screaming shrilly by her cabbages , which were as gaunt and scraggy as herself ; at another time she fancied that a crow had designs on her chickens , and she rushed to attack it with loud words of abuse . She was cross and grumbling from morning till night . And often she raised such an outcry that passers - by stopped in the street . She was not affectionate towards the old man , reviling him as a lazy - bones and a plague . He was not a responsible , reliable peasant , and perhaps if she had not been continually nagging at him he would not have worked at all , but would have simply sat on the stove and talked . He talked to his son at great length about certain enemies of his , complained of the insults he said he had to put up with every day from the neighbours , and it was tedious to listen to him . " Yes , " he would say , standing with his arms akimbo , " yes . . . . A week after the Exaltation of the Cross I sold my hay willingly at thirty kopecks a pood . . . . Well and good . . . . So you see I was taking the hay in the morning with a good will ; I was interfering with no one . In an unlucky hour I see the village elder , Antip Syedelnikov , coming out of the tavern . ' Where are you taking it , you ruffian ? ' says he , and takes me by the ear . " Kiryak had a fearful headache after his drinking bout , and was ashamed to face his brother . " What vodka does ! Ah , my God ! " he muttered , shaking his aching head . " For Christ ' s sake , forgive me , brother and sister ; I ' m not happy myself . " As it was a holiday , they bought a herring at the tavern and made a soup of the herring ' s head . At midday they all sat down to drink tea , and went on drinking it for a long time , till they were all perspiring ; they looked positively swollen from the tea - drinking , and after it began sipping the broth from the herring ' s head , all helping themselves out of one bowl . But the herring itself Granny had hidden . In the evening a potter began firing pots on the ravine . In the meadow below the girls got up a choral dance and sang songs . They played the concertina . And on the other side of the river a kiln for baking pots was lighted , too , and the girls sang songs , and in the distance the singing sounded soft and musical . The peasants were noisy in and about the tavern . They were singing with drunken voices , each on his own account , and swearing at one another , so that Olga could only shudder and say : " Oh , holy Saints ! " She was amazed that the abuse was incessant , and those who were loudest and most persistent in this foul language were the old men who were so near their end . And the girls and children heard the swearing , and were not in the least disturbed by it , and it was evident that they were used to it from their cradles . It was past midnight , the kilns on both sides of the river were put out , but in the meadow below and in the tavern the merrymaking still went on . The old father and Kiryak , both drunk , walking arm - in - arm and jostling against each other ' s shoulders , went to the barn where Olga and Marya were lying . " Let her alone , " the old man persuaded him ; " let her alone . . . . She is a harmless woman . . . . It ' s a sin . . . . " " Ma - arya ! " shouted Kiryak . " Let her be . . . . It ' s a sin . . . . She is not a bad woman . " Both stopped by the barn and went on . " I lo - ove the flowers of the fi - ield , " the old man began singing suddenly in a high , piercing tenor . " I lo - ove to gather them in the meadows ! " Then he spat , and with a filthy oath went into the hut . IVGranny put Sasha by her kitchen - garden and told her to keep watch that the geese did not go in . It was a hot August day . The tavernkeeper ' s geese could make their way into the kitchen - garden by the backs of the huts , but now they were busily engaged picking up oats by the tavern , peacefully conversing together , and only the gander craned his head high as though trying to see whether the old woman were coming with her stick . The other geese might come up from below , but they were now grazing far away the other side of the river , stretched out in a long white garland about the meadow . Sasha stood about a little , grew weary , and , seeing that the geese were not coming , went away to the ravine . There she saw Marya ' s eldest daughter Motka , who was standing motionless on a big stone , staring at the church . Marya had given birth to thirteen children , but she only had six living , all girls , not one boy , and the eldest was eight . Motka in a long smock was standing barefooted in the full sunshine ; the sun was blazing down right on her head , but she did not notice that , and seemed as though turned to stone . Sasha stood beside her and said , looking at the church : " God lives in the church . Men have lamps and candles , but God has little green and red and blue lamps like little eyes . At night God walks about the church , and with Him the Holy Mother of God and Saint Nikolay , thud , thud , thud ! . . . And the watchman is terrified , terrified ! Aye , aye , dearie , " she added , imitating her mother . " And when the end of the world comes all the churches will be carried up to heaven . " " With the - ir be - ells ? " Motka asked in her deep voice , drawling every syllable . " With their bells . And when the end of the world comes the good will go to Paradise , but the angry will burn in fire eternal and unquenchable , dearie . To my mother as well as to Marya God will say : ' You never offended anyone , and for that go to the right to Paradise '; but to Kiryak and Granny He will say : ' You go to the left into the fire . ' And anyone who has eaten meat in Lent will go into the fire , too . " She looked upwards at the sky , opening wide her eyes , and said : " Look at the sky without winking , you will see angels . " Motka began looking at the sky , too , and a minute passed in silence . " Do you see them ? " asked Sasha . " I don ' t , " said Motka in her deep voice . " But I do . Little angels are flying about the sky and flap , flap with their little wings as though they were gnats . " Motka thought for a little , with her eyes on the ground , and asked : " Will Granny burn ? " " She will , dearie . " From the stone an even gentle slope ran down to the bottom , covered with soft green grass , which one longed to lie down on or to touch with one ' s hands . . . Sasha lay down and rolled to the bottom . Motka with a grave , severe face , taking a deep breath , lay down , too , and rolled to the bottom , and in doing so tore her smock from the hem to the shoulder . " What fun it is ! " said Sasha , delighted . They walked up to the top to roll down again , but at that moment they heard a shrill , familiar voice . Oh , how awful it was ! Granny , a toothless , bony , hunchbacked figure , with short grey hair which was fluttering in the wind , was driving the geese out of the kitchen - garden with a long stick , shouting . " They have trampled all the cabbages , the damned brutes ! I ' d cut your throats , thrice accursed plagues ! Bad luck to you ! " She saw the little girls , flung down the stick and picked up a switch , and , seizing Sasha by the neck with her fingers , thin and hard as the gnarled branches of a tree , began whipping her . Sasha cried with pain and terror , while the gander , waddling and stretching his neck , went up to the old woman and hissed at her , and when he went back to his flock all the geese greeted him approvingly with " Ga - ga - ga ! " Then Granny proceeded to whip Motka , and in this Motka ' s smock was torn again . Feeling in despair , and crying loudly , Sasha went to the hut to complain . Motka followed her ; she , too , was crying on a deeper note , without wiping her tears , and her face was as wet as though it had been dipped in water . " Holy Saints ! " cried Olga , aghast , as the two came into the hut . " Queen of Heaven ! " Sasha began telling her story , while at the same time Granny walked in with a storm of shrill cries and abuse ; then Fyokla flew into a rage , and there was an uproar in the hut . " Never mind , never mind ! " Olga , pale and upset , tried to comfort them , stroking Sasha ' s head . " She is your grandmother ; it ' s a sin to be angry with her . Never mind , my child . " Nikolay , who was worn out already by the everlasting hubbub , hunger , stifling fumes , filth , who hated and despised the poverty , who was ashamed for his wife and daughter to see his father and mother , swung his legs off the stove and said in an irritable , tearful voice , addressing his mother : " You must not beat her ! You have no right to beat her ! " " You lie rotting on the stove , you wretched creature ! " Fyokla shouted at him spitefully . " The devil brought you all on us , eating us out of house and home . " Sasha and Motka and all the little girls in the hut huddled on the stove in the corner behind Nikolay ' s back , and from that refuge listened in silent terror , and the beating of their little hearts could be distinctly heard . Whenever there is someone in a family who has long been ill , and hopelessly ill , there come painful moments when all timidly , secretly , at the bottom of their hearts long for his death ; and only the children fear the death of someone near them , and always feel horrified at the thought of it . And now the children , with bated breath , with a mournful look on their faces , gazed at Nikolay and thought that he was soon to die ; and they wanted to cry and to say something friendly and compassionate to him . He pressed close to Olga , as though seeking protection , and said to her softly in a quavering voice : " Olya darling , I can ' t stay here longer . It ' s more than I can bear . For God ' s sake , for Christ ' s sake , write to your sister Klavdia Abramovna . Let her sell and pawn everything she has ; let her send us the money . We will go away from here . Oh , Lord , " he went on miserably , " to have one peep at Moscow ! If I could see it in my dreams , the dear place ! And when the evening came on , and it was dark in the hut , it was so dismal that it was hard to utter a word . Granny , very ill - tempered , soaked some crusts of rye bread in a cup , and was a long time , a whole hour , sucking at them . Marya , after milking the cow , brought in a pail of milk and set it on a bench ; then Granny poured it from the pail into a jug just as slowly and deliberately , evidently pleased that it was now the Fast of the Assumption , so that no one would drink milk and it would be left untouched . And she only poured out a very little in a saucer for Fyokla ' s baby . When Marya and she carried the jug down to the cellar Motka suddenly stirred , clambered down from the stove , and going to the bench where stood the wooden cup full of crusts , sprinkled into it some milk from the saucer . Granny , coming back into the hut , sat down to her soaked crusts again , while Sasha and Motka , sitting on the stove , gazed at her , and they were glad that she had broken her fast and now would go to hell . They were comforted and lay down to sleep , and Sasha as she dozed off to sleep imagined the Day of Judgment : a huge fire was burning , somewhat like a potter ' s kiln , and the Evil one , with horns like a cow ' s , and black all over , was driving Granny into the fire with a long stick , just as Granny herself had been driving the geese . VOn the day of the Feast of the Assumption , between ten and eleven in the evening , the girls and lads who were merrymaking in the meadow suddenly raised a clamour and outcry , and ran in the direction of the village ; and those who were above on the edge of the ravine could not for the first moment make out what was the matter . " Fire ! Fire ! " they heard desperate shouts from below . " The village is on fire ! " Those who were sitting above looked round , and a terrible and extraordinary spectacle met their eyes . on the thatched roof of one of the end cottages stood a column of flame , seven feet high , which curled round and scattered sparks in all directions as though it were a fountain . And all at once the whole roof burst into bright flame , and the crackling of the fire was audible . The light of the moon was dimmed , and the whole village was by now bathed in a red quivering glow : black shadows moved over the ground , there was a smell of burning , and those who ran up from below were all gasping and could not speak for trembling ; they jostled against each other , fell down , and they could hardly see in the unaccustomed light , and did not recognize each other . It was terrible . What seemed particularly dreadful was that doves were flying over the fire in the smoke ; and in the tavern , where they did not yet know of the fire , they were still singing and playing the concertina as though there were nothing the matter . " Uncle Semyon ' s on fire , " shouted a loud , coarse voice . Marya was fussing about round her hut , weeping and wringing her hands , while her teeth chattered , though the fire was a long way off at the other end of the village . Nikolay came out in high felt boots , the children ran out in their little smocks . Near the village constable ' s hut an iron sheet was struck . Boom , boom , boom ! . . . floated through the air , and this repeated , persistent sound sent a pang to the heart and turned one cold . The old women stood with the holy ikons . Sheep , calves , cows were driven out of the back - yards into the street ; boxes , sheepskins , tubs were carried out . A black stallion , who was kept apart from the drove of horses because he kicked and injured them , on being set free ran once or twice up and down the village , neighing and pawing the ground ; then suddenly stopped short near a cart and began kicking it with his hind - legs . They began ringing the bells in the church on the other side of the river . Near the burning hut it was hot and so light that one could distinctly see every blade of grass . Semyon , a red - haired peasant with a long nose , wearing a reefer - jacket and a cap pulled down right over his ears , sat on one of the boxes which they had succeeded in bringing out : his wife was lying on her face , moaning and unconscious . A little old man of eighty , with a big beard , who looked like a gnome -- not one of the villagers , though obviously connected in some way with the fire -- walked about bareheaded , with a white bundle in his arms . The glare was reflected on his bald head . The village elder , Antip Syedelnikov , as swarthy and black - haired as a gypsy , went up to the hut with an axe , and hacked out the windows one after another -- no one knew why -- then began chopping up the roof . " Women , water ! " he shouted . " Bring the engine ! Look sharp ! " The peasants , who had been drinking in the tavern just before , dragged the engine up . They were all drunk ; they kept stumbling and falling down , and all had a helpless ｅxpression and tears in their eyes . " Wenches , water ! " shouted the elder , who was drunk , too . " Look sharp , wenches ! " The women and the girls ran downhill to where there was a spring , and kept hauling pails and buckets of water up the hill , and , pouring it into the engine , ran down again . Olga and Marya and Sasha and Motka all brought water . The women and the boys pumped the water ; the pipe hissed , and the elder , directing it now at the door , now at the windows , held back the stream with his finger , which made it hiss more sharply still . " Bravo , Antip ! " voices shouted approvingly . " Do your best . " Antip went inside the hut into the fire and shouted from within . " Pump ! Bestir yourselves , good Christian folk , in such a terrible mischance ! " The peasants stood round in a crowd , doing nothing but staring at the fire . No one knew what to do , no one had the sense to do anything , though there were stacks of wheat , hay , barns , and piles of faggots standing all round . Kiryak and old Osip , his father , both tipsy , were standing there , too . And as though to justify his doing nothing , old Osip said , addressing the woman who lay on the ground : " What is there to trouble about , old girl ! The hut is insured -- why are you taking on ? " Semyon , addressing himself first to one person and then to another , kept describing how the fire had started . " That old man , the one with the bundle , a house - serf of General Zhukov ' s . . . . He was cook at our general ' s , God rest his soul ! He came over this evening : ' Let me stay the night , ' says he . . . . Well , we had a glass , to be sure . . . . The wife got the samovar -- she was going to give the old fellow a cup of tea , and in an unlucky hour she set the samovar in the entrance . The sparks from the chimney must have blown straight up to the thatch ; that ' s how it was . We were almost burnt ourselves . And the old fellow ' s cap has been burnt ; what a shame ! " And the sheet of iron was struck indefatigably , and the bells kept ringing in the church the other side of the river . In the glow of the fire Olga , breathless , looking with horror at the red sheep and the pink doves flying in the smoke , kept running down the hill and up again . It seemed to her that the ringing went to her heart with a sharp stab , that the fire would never be over , that Sasha was lost . . . . And when the ceiling of the hut fell in with a crash , the thought that now the whole village would be burnt made her weak and faint , and she could not go on fetching water , but sat down on the ravine , setting the pail down near her ; beside her and below her , the peasant women sat wailing as though at a funeral . Then the stewards and watchmen from the estate the other side of the river arrived in two carts , bringing with them a fire - engine . A very young student in an unbuttoned white tunic rode up on horseback . There was the thud of axes . They put a ladder to the burning framework of the house , and five men ran up it at once . Foremost of them all was the student , who was red in the face and shouting in a harsh hoarse voice , and in a tone as though putting out fires was a thing he was used to . They pulled the house to pieces , a beam at a time ; they dragged away the corn , the hurdles , and the stacks that were near . " Don ' t let them break it up ! " cried stern voices in the crowd . " Don ' t let them . " Kiryak made his way up to the hut with a resolute air , as though he meant to prevent the newcomers from breaking up the hut , but one of the workmen turned him back with a blow in his neck . There was the sound of laughter , the workman dealt him another blow , Kiryak fell down , and crawled back into the crowd on his hands and knees . Two handsome girls in hats , probably the student ' s sisters , came from the other side of the river . They stood a little way off , looking at the fire . The beams that had been dragged apart were no longer burning , but were smoking vigorously ; the student , who was working the hose , turned the water , first on the beams , then on the peasants , then on the women who were bringing the water . " George ! " the girls called to him reproachfully in anxiety , " George ! " The fire was over . And only when they began to disperse they noticed that the day was breaking , that everyone was pale and rather dark in the face , as it always seems in the early morning when the last stars are going out . As they separated , the peasants laughed and made jokes about General Zhukov ' s cook and his cap which had been burnt ; they already wanted to turn the fire into a joke , and even seemed sorry that it had so soon been put out . " How well you extinguished the fire , sir ! " said Olga to the student . " You ought to come to us in Moscow : there we have a fire every day . " " Why , do you come from Moscow ? " asked one of the young ladies . " Yes , miss . My husband was a waiter at the Slavyansky Bazaar . And this is my daughter , " she said , indicating Sasha , who was cold and huddling up to her . " She is a Moscow girl , too . " The two young ladies said something in French to the student , and he gave Sasha a twenty - kopeck piece . Old Father Osip saw this , and there was a gleam of hope in his face . " We must thank God , your honour , there was no wind , " he said , addressing the student , " or else we should have been all burnt up together . Your honour , kind gentlefolks , " he added in embarrassment in a lower tone , " the morning ' s chilly . . . something to warm one . . . half a bottle to your honour ' s health . " Nothing was given him , and clearing his throat he slouched home . Olga stood afterwards at the end of the street and watched the two carts crossing the river by the ford and the gentlefolks walking across the meadow ; a carriage was waiting for them the other side of the river . Going into the hut , she described to her husband with enthusiasm : " Such good people ! And so beautiful ! The young ladies were like cherubim . " " Plague take them ! " Fyokla , sleepy , said spitefully . VIMarya thought herself unhappy , and said that she would be very glad to die ; Fyokla , on the other hand , found all this life to her taste : the poverty , the uncleanliness , and the incessant quarrelling . She ate what was given her without discrimination ; slept anywhere , on whatever came to hand . She would empty the slops just at the porch , would splash them out from the doorway , and then walk barefoot through the puddle . And from the very first day she took a dislike to Olga and Nikolay just because they did not like this life . " We shall see what you ' ll find to eat here , you Moscow gentry ! " she said malignantly . " We shall see ! " One morning , it was at the beginning of September , Fyokla , vigorous , good - looking , and rosy from the cold , brought up two pails of water ; Marya and Olga were sitting meanwhile at the table drinking tea . " Tea and sugar , " said Fyokla sarcastically . " The fine ladies ! " she added , setting down the pails . " You have taken to the fashion of tea every day . You better look out that you don ' t burst with your tea - drinking , " she went on , looking with hatred at Olga . " That ' s how you have come by your fat mug , having a good time in Moscow , you lump of flesh ! " She swung the yoke and hit Olga such a blow on the shoulder that the two sisters - in - law could only clasp their hands and say : " Oh , holy Saints ! " Then Fyokla went down to the river to wash the clothes , swearing all the time so loudly that she could be heard in the hut . The day passed and was followed by the long autumn evening . They wound silk in the hut ; everyone did it except Fyokla ; she had gone over the river . They got the silk from a factory close by , and the whole family working together earned next to nothing , twenty kopecks a week . " Things were better in the old days under the gentry , " said the old father as he wound silk . " You worked and ate and slept , everything in its turn . At dinner you had cabbage - soup and boiled grain , and at supper the same again . Cucumbers and cabbage in plenty : you could eat to your heart ' s content , as much as you wanted . And there was more strictness . Everyone minded what he was about . " The hut was lighted by a single little lamp , which burned dimly and smoked . When someone screened the lamp and a big shadow fell across the window , the bright moonlight could be seen . Old Osip , speaking slowly , told them how they used to live before the emancipation ; how in those very parts , where life was now so poor and so dreary , they used to hunt with harriers , greyhounds , . retrievers , and when they went out as beaters the peasants were given vodka ; how whole waggonloads of game used to be sent to Moscow for the young masters ; how the bad were beaten with rods or sent away to the Tver estate , while the good were rewarded . And Granny told them something , too . She remembered everything , positively everything . She described her mistress , a kind , God - fearing woman , whose husband was a profligate and a rake , and all of whose daughters made unlucky marriages : one married a drunkard , another married a workman , the other eloped secretly ( Granny herself , at that time a young girl , helped in the elopement ) , and they had all three as well as their mother died early from grief . And remembering all this , Granny positively began to shed tears . All at once someone knocked at the door , and they all started . " Uncle Osip , give me a night ' s lodging . " The little bald old man , General Zhukov ' s cook , the one whose cap had been burnt , walked in . He sat down and listened , then he , too , began telling stories of all sorts . Nikolay , sitting on the stove with his legs hanging down , listened and asked questions about the dishes that were prepared in the old days for the gentry . They talked of rissoles , cutlets , various soups and sauces , and the cook , who remembered everything very well , mentioned dishes that are no longer served . There was one , for instance -- a dish made of bulls ' eyes , which was called " waking up in the morning . " " And used you to do cutlets à la maréchal ? " asked Nikolay . " No . " Nikolay shook his head reproachfully and said : " Tut , tut ! You were not much of a cook ! " The little girls sitting and lying on the stove stared down without blinking ; it seemed as though there were a great many of them , like cherubim in the clouds . They liked the stories : they were breathless ; they shuddered and turned pale with alternate rapture and terror , and they listened breathlessly , afraid to stir , to Granny , whose stories were the most interesting of all . They lay down to sleep in silence ; and the old people , troubled and excited by their reminiscences , thought how precious was youth , of which , whatever it might have been like , nothing was left in the memory but what was living , joyful , touching , and how terribly cold was death , which was not far off , better not think of it ! The lamp died down . And the dusk , and the two little windows sharply defined by the moonlight , and the stillness and the creak of the cradle , reminded them for some reason that life was over , that nothing one could do would bring it back . . . . You doze off , you forget yourself , and suddenly someone touches your shoulder or breathes on your cheek -- and sleep is gone ; your body feels cramped , and thoughts of death keep creeping into your mind . You turn on the other side : death is forgotten , but old dreary , sickening thoughts of poverty , of food , of how dear flour is getting , stray through the mind , and a little later again you remember that life is over and you cannot bring it back . . . . " Oh , Lord ! " sighed the cook . Someone gave a soft , soft tap at the window . It must be Fyokla come back . Olga got up , and yawning and whispering a prayer , opened the door , then drew the bolt in the outer room , but no one came in ; only from the street came a cold draught and a sudden brightness from the moonlight . The street , still and deserted , and the moon itself floating across the sky , could be seen at the open door . " Who is there ? " called Olga . " I , " she heard the answer -- " it is I . " Near the door , crouching against the wall , stood Fyokla , absolutely naked . She was shivering with cold , her teeth were chattering , and in the bright moonlight she looked very pale , strange , and beautiful . The shadows on her , and the bright moonlight on her skin , stood out vividly , and her dark eyebrows and firm , youthful bosom were defined with peculiar distinctness . " The ruffians over there undressed me and turned me out like this , " she said . " I ' ve come home without my clothes . . . naked as my mother bore me . Bring me something to put on . " " But go inside ! " Olga said softly , beginning to shiver , too . " I don ' t want the old folks to see . " Granny was , in fact , already stirring and muttering , and the old father asked : " Who is there ? " Olga brought her own smock and skirt , dressed Fyokla , and then both went softly into the inner room , trying not to make a noise with the door . " Is that you , you sleek one ? " Granny grumbled angrily , guessing who it was . " Fie upon you , nightwalker ! . . . Bad luck to you ! " " It ' s all right , it ' s all right , " whispered Olga , wrapping Fyokla up ; " it ' s all right , dearie . " All was stillness again . They always slept badly ; everyone was kept awake by something worrying and persistent : the old man by the pain in his back , Granny by anxiety and anger , Marya by terror , the children by itch and hunger . Now , too , their sleep was troubled ; they kept turning over from one side to the other , talking in their sleep , getting up for a drink . Fyokla suddenly broke into a loud , coarse howl , but immediately checked herself , and only uttered sobs from time to time , growing softer and on a lower note , until she relapsed into silence . From time to time from the other side of the river there floated the sound of the beating of the hours ; but the time seemed somehow strange -- five was struck and then three . " Oh Lord ! " sighed the cook . Looking at the windows , it was difficult to tell whether it was still moonlight or whether the dawn had begun . Marya got up and went out , and she could be heard milking the cows and saying , " Stea - dy ! " Granny went out , too . It was still dark in the hut , but all the objects in it could be discerned . Nikolay , who had not slept all night , got down from the stove . He took his dress - coat out of a green box , put it on , and going to the window , stroked the sleeves and took hold of the coat - tails -- and smiled . Then he carefully took off the coat , put it away in his box , and lay down again . Marya came in again and began lighting the stove . She was evidently hardly awake , and seemed dropping asleep as she walked . Probably she had had some dream , or the stories of the night before came into her mind as , stretching luxuriously before the stove , she said : " No , freedom is better . " VIIThe master arrived -- that was what they called the police inspector . When he would come and what he was coming for had been known for the last week . There were only forty households in Zhukovo , but more than two thousand roubles of arrears of rates and taxes had accumulated . The police inspector stopped at the tavern . He drank there two glasses of tea , and then went on foot to the village elder ' s hut , near which a crowd of those who were in debt stood waiting . The elder , Antip Syedelnikov , was , in spite of his youth -- he was only a little over thirty -- strict and always on the side of the authorities , though he himself was poor and did not pay his taxes regularly . Evidently he enjoyed being elder , and liked the sense of authority , which he could only display by strictness . In the village council the peasants were afraid of him and obeyed him . It would sometimes happen that he would pounce on a drunken man in the street or near the tavern , tie his hands behind him , and put him in the lock - up . on one occasion he even put Granny in the lock - up because she went to the village council instead of Osip , and began swearing , and he kept her there for a whole day and night . He had never lived in a town or read a book , but somewhere or other had picked up various learned ｅxpressions , and loved to make use of them in conversation , and he was respected for this though he was not always understood . When Osip came into the village elder ' s hut with his tax book , the police inspector , a lean old man with a long grey beard , in a grey tunic , was sitting at a table in the passage , writing something . It was clean in the hut ; all the walls were dotted with pictures cut out of the illustrated papers , and in the most conspicuous place near the ikon there was a portrait of the Battenburg who was the Prince of Bulgaria . By the table stood Antip Syedelnikov with his arms folded . " There is one hundred and nineteen roubles standing against him , " he said when it came to Osip ' s turn . " Before Easter he paid a rouble , and he has not paid a kopeck since . " The police inspector raised his eyes to Osip and asked : " Why is this , brother ? " " Show Divine mercy , your honour , " Osip began , growing agitated . " Allow me to say last year the gentleman at Lutorydsky said to me , ' Osip , ' he said , ' sell your hay . . . you sell it , ' he said . Well , I had a hundred poods for sale ; the women mowed it on the water - meadow . Well , we struck a bargain all right , willingly . . . . " He complained of the elder , and kept turning round to the peasants as though inviting them to bear witness ; his face flushed red and perspired , and his eyes grew sharp and angry . " I don ' t know why you are saying all this , " said the police inspector . " I am asking you . . . I am asking you why you don ' t pay your arrears . You don ' t pay , any of you , and am I to be responsible for you ? " " I can ' t do it . " " His words have no sequel , your honour , " said the elder . " The Tchikildyeevs certainly are of a defective class , but if you will just ask the others , the root of it all is vodka , and they are a very bad lot . With no sort of understanding . " The police inspector wrote something down , and said to Osip quietly , in an even tone , as though he were asking him for water : " Be off . " Soon he went away ; and when he got into his cheap chaise and cleared his throat , it could be seen from the very ｅxpression of his long thin back that he was no longer thinking of Osip or of the village elder , nor of the Zhukovo arrears , but was thinking of his own affairs . Before he had gone three - quarters of a mile Antip was already carrying off the samovar from the Tchikildyeevs ' cottage , followed by Granny , screaming shrilly and straining her throat : " I won ' t let you have it , I won ' t let you have it , damn you ! " He walked rapidly with long steps , and she pursued him panting , almost falling over , a bent , ferocious figure ; her kerchief slipped on to her shoulders , her grey hair with greenish lights on it was blown about in the wind . She suddenly stopped short , and like a genuine rebel , fell to beating her breast with her fists and shouting louder than ever in a sing - song voice , as though she were sobbing : " Good Christians and believers in God ! Neighbours , they have ill - treated me ! Kind friends , they have oppressed me ! Oh , oh ! dear people , take my part . " " Granny , Granny ! " said the village elder sternly , " have some sense in your head ! " It was hopelessly dreary in the Tchikildyeevs ' hut without the samovar ; there was something humiliating in this loss , insulting , as though the honour of the hut had been outraged . Better if the elder had carried off the table , all the benches , all the pots -- it would not have seemed so empty . Granny screamed , Marya cried , and the little girls , looking at her , cried , too . The old father , feeling guilty , sat in the corner with bowed head and said nothing . And Nikolay , too , was silent . Granny loved him and was sorry for him , but now , forgetting her pity , she fell upon him with abuse , with reproaches , shaking her fist right in his face . She shouted that it was all his fault ; why had he sent them so little when he boasted in his letters that he was getting fifty roubles a month at the Slavyansky Bazaar ? Why had he come , and with his family , too ? If he died , where was the money to come from for his funeral . . . ? And it was pitiful to look at Nikolay , Olga , and Sasha . The old father cleared his throat , took his cap , and went off to the village elder . Antip was soldering something by the stove , puffing out his cheeks ; there was a smell of burning . His children , emaciated and unwashed , no better than the Tchikildyeevs , were scrambling about the floor ; his wife , an ugly , freckled woman with a prominent stomach , was winding silk . They were a poor , unlucky family , and Antip was the only one who looked vigorous and handsome . on a bench there were five samovars standing in a row . The old man said his prayer to Battenburg and said : " Antip , show the Divine mercy . Give me back the samovar , for Christ ' s sake ! " " Bring three roubles , then you shall have it . " I can ' t do it ! " Antip puffed out his cheeks , the fire roared and hissed , and the glow was reflected in the samovar . The old man crumpled up his cap and said after a moment ' s thought : " You give it me back . " The swarthy elder looked quite black , and was like a magician ; he turned round to Osip and said sternly and rapidly : " It all depends on the rural captain . on the twenty - sixth instant you can state the grounds for your dissatisfaction before the administrative session , verbally or in writing . " Osip did not understand a word , but he was satisfied with that and went home . Ten days later the police inspector came again , stayed an hour and went away . During those days the weather had changed to cold and windy ; the river had been frozen for some time past , but still there was no snow , and people found it difficult to get about . on the eve of a holiday some of the neighbours came in to Osip ' s to sit and have a talk . They did not light the lamp , as it would have been a sin to work , but talked in the darkness . There were some items of news , all rather unpleasant . In two or three households hens had been taken for the arrears , and had been sent to the district police station , and there they had died because no one had fed them ; they had taken sheep , and while they were being driven away tied to one another , shifted into another cart at each village , one of them had died . And now they were discussing the question , who was to blame ? " The Zemstvo , " said Osip . " Who else ? " " Of course it is the Zemstvo . " The Zemstvo was blamed for everything -- for the arrears , and for the oppressions , and for the failure of the crops , though no one of them knew what was meant by the Zemstvo . And this dated from the time when well - to - do peasants who had factories , shops , and inns of their own were members of the Zemstvos , were dissatisfied with them , and took to swearing at the Zemstvos in their factories and inns . They talked of God ' s not sending the snow ; they had to bring in wood for fuel , and there was no driving nor walking in the frozen ruts . In old days fifteen to twenty years ago conversation was much more interesting in Zhukovo . In those days every old man looked as though he were treasuring some secret ; as though he knew something and was expecting something . They used to talk about an edict in golden letters , about the division of lands , about new land , about treasures ; they hinted at something . Now the people of Zhukovo had no mystery at all ; their whole life was bare and open in the sight of all , and they could talk of nothing but poverty , food , there being no snow yet . . . . There was a pause . Then they thought again of the hens , of the sheep , and began discussing whose fault it was . " The Zemstvo , " said Osip wearily . " Who else ? " VIIIThe parish church was nearly five miles away at Kosogorovo , and the peasants only attended it when they had to do so for baptisms , weddings , or funerals ; they went to the services at the church across the river . on holidays in fine weather the girls dressed up in their best and went in a crowd together to church , and it was a cheering sight to see them in their red , yellow , and green dresses cross the meadow ; in bad weather they all stayed at home . They went for the sacrament to the parish church . From each of those who did not manage in Lent to go to confession in readiness for the sacrament the parish priest , going the round of the huts with the cross at Easter , took fifteen kopecks . The old father did not believe in God , for he hardly ever thought about Him ; he recognized the supernatural , but considered it was entirely the women ' s concern , and when religion or miracles were discussed before him , or a question were put to him , he would say reluctantly , scratching himself : " Who can tell ! " Granny believed , but her faith was somewhat hazy ; everything was mixed up in her memory , and she could scarcely begin to think of sins , of death , of the salvation of the soul , before poverty and her daily cares took possession of her mind , and she instantly forgot what she was thinking about . She did not remember the prayers , and usually in the evenings , before lying down to sleep , she would stand before the ikons and whisper : " Holy Mother of Kazan , Holy Mother of Smolensk , Holy Mother of Troerutchitsy . . . " Marya and Fyokla crossed themselves , fasted , and took the sacrament every year , but understood nothing . The children were not taught their prayers , nothing was told them about God , and no moral principles were instilled into them ; they were only forbidden to eat meat or milk in Lent . In the other families it was much the same : there were few who believed , few who understood . At the same time everyone loved the Holy Scripture , loved it with a tender , reverent love ; but they had no Bible , there was no one to read it and explain it , and because Olga sometimes read them the gospel , they respected her , and they all addressed her and Sasha as though they were superior to themselves . For church holidays and services Olga often went to neighbouring villages , and to the district town , in which there were two monasteries and twenty - seven churches . She was dreamy , and when she was on these pilgrimages she quite forgot her family , and only when she got home again suddenly made the joyful discovery that she had a husband and daughter , and then would say , smiling and radiant : " God has sent me blessings ! " What went on in the village worried her and seemed to her revolting . on Elijah ' s Day they drank , at the Assumption they drank , at the Ascension they drank . The Feast of the Intercession was the parish holiday for Zhukovo , and the peasants used to drink then for three days ; they squandered on drink fifty roubles of money belonging to the Mir , and then collected more for vodka from all the households . on the first day of the feast the Tchikildyeevs killed a sheep and ate of it in the morning , at dinner - time , and in the evening ; they ate it ravenously , and the children got up at night to eat more . Kiryak was fearfully drunk for three whole days ; he drank up everything , even his boots and cap , and beat Marya so terribly that they had to pour water over her . And then they were all ashamed and sick . However , even in Zhukovo , in this " Slaveytown , " there was once an outburst of genuine religious enthusiasm . It was in August , when throughout the district they carried from village to village the Holy Mother , the giver of life . It was still and overcast on the day when they expected Her at Zhukovo . The girls set off in the morning to meet the ikon , in their bright holiday dresses , and brought Her towards the evening , in procession with the cross and with singing , while the bells pealed in the church across the river . An immense crowd of villagers and strangers flooded the street ; there was noise , dust , a great crush . . . . And the old father and Granny and Kiryak -- all stretched out their hands to the ikon , looked eagerly at it and said , weeping : " Defender ! Mother ! Defender ! " All seemed suddenly to realize that there was not an empty void between earth and heaven , that the rich and the powerful had not taken possession of everything , that there was still a refuge from injury , from slavish bondage , from crushing , unendurable poverty , from the terrible vodka . " Defender ! Mother ! " sobbed Marya . " Mother ! " But the thanksgiving service ended and the ikon was carried away , and everything went on as before ; and again there was a sound of coarse drunken oaths from the tavern . Only the well - to - do peasants were afraid of death ; the richer they were the less they believed in God , and in the salvation of souls , and only through fear of the end of the world put up candles and had services said for them , to be on the safe side . The peasants who were rather poorer were not afraid of death . The old father and Granny were told to their faces that they had lived too long , that it was time they were dead , and they did not mind . They did not hinder Fyokla from saying in Nikolay ' s presence that when Nikolay died her husband Denis would get exemption -- to return home from the army . And Marya , far from fearing death , regretted that it was so slow in coming , and was glad when her children died . Death they did not fear , but of every disease they had an exaggerated terror . The merest trifle was enough -- a stomach upset , a slight chill , and Granny would be wrapped up on the stove , and would begin moaning loudly and incessantly : " I am dy - ing ! " The old father hurried off for the priest , and Granny received the sacrament and extreme unction . They often talked of colds , of worms , of tumours which move in the stomach and coil round to the heart . Above all , they were afraid of catching cold , and so put on thick clothes even in the summer and warmed themselves at the stove . Granny was fond of being doctored , and often went to the hospital , where she used to say she was not seventy , but fifty - eight ; she supposed that if the doctor knew her real age he would not treat her , but would say it was time she died instead of taking medicine . She usually went to the hospital early in the morning , taking with her two or three of the little girls , and came back in the evening , hungry and ill - tempered -- with drops for herself and ointments for the little girls . once she took Nikolay , who swallowed drops for a fortnight afterwards , and said he felt better . Granny knew all the doctors and their assistants and the wise men for twenty miles round , and not one of them she liked . At the Intercession , when the priest made the round of the huts with the cross , the deacon told her that in the town near the prison lived an old man who had been a medical orderly in the army , and who made wonderful cures , and advised her to try him . Granny took his advice . When the first snow fell she drove to the town and fetched an old man with a big beard , a converted Jew , in a long gown , whose face was covered with blue veins . There were outsiders at work in the hut at the time : an old tailor , in terrible spectacles , was cutting a waistcoat out of some rags , and two young men were making felt boots out of wool ; Kiryak , who had been dismissed from his place for drunkenness , and now lived at home , was sitting beside the tailor mending a bridle . And it was crowded , stifling , and noisome in the hut . The converted Jew examined Nikolay and said that it was necessary to try cupping . He put on the cups , and the old tailor , Kiryak , and the little girls stood round and looked on , and it seemed to them that they saw the disease being drawn out of Nikolay ; and Nikolay , too , watched how the cups suckling at his breast gradually filled with dark blood , and felt as though there really were something coming out of him , and smiled with pleasure . " It ' s a good thing , " said the tailor . " Please God , it will do you good . " The Jew put on twelve cups and then another twelve , drank some tea , and went away . Nikolay began shivering ; his face looked drawn , and , as the women expressed it , shrank up like a fist ; his fingers turned blue . He wrapped himself up in a quilt and in a sheepskin , but got colder and colder . Towards the evening he began to be in great distress ; asked to be laid on the ground , asked the tailor not to smoke ; then he subsided under the sheepskin and towards morning he died . IXOh , what a grim , what a long winter ! Their own grain did not last beyond Christmas , and they had to buy flour . Kiryak , who lived at home now , was noisy in the evenings , inspiring terror in everyone , and in the mornings he suffered from headache and was ashamed ; and he was a pitiful sight . In the stall the starved cows bellowed day and night -- a heart - rending sound to Granny and Marya . And as ill - luck would have it , there was a sharp frost all the winter , the snow drifted in high heaps , and the winter dragged on . At Annunciation there was a regular blizzard , and there was a fall of snow at Easter . But in spite of it all the winter did end . At the beginning of April there came warm days and frosty nights . Winter would not give way , but one warm day overpowered it at last , and the streams began to flow and the birds began to sing . The whole meadow and the bushes near the river were drowned in the spring floods , and all the space between Zhukovo and the further side was filled up with a vast sheet of water , from which wild ducks rose up in flocks here and there . The spring sunset , flaming among gorgeous clouds , gave every evening something new , extraordinary , incredible -- just what one does not believe in afterwards , when one sees those very colours and those very clouds in a picture . The cranes flew swiftly , swiftly , with mournful cries , as though they were calling themselves . Standing on the edge of the ravine , Olga looked a long time at the flooded meadow , at the sunshine , at the bright church , that looked as though it had grown younger ; and her tears flowed and her breath came in gasps from her passionate longing to go away , to go far away to the end of the world . It was already settled that she should go back to Moscow to be a servant , and that Kiryak should set off with her to get a job as a porter or something . Oh , to get away quickly ! As soon as it dried up and grew warm they got ready to set off . Olga and Sasha , with wallets on their backs and shoes of plaited bark on their feet , came out before daybreak : Marya came out , too , to see them on their way . Kiryak was not well , and was kept at home for another week . For the last time Olga prayed at the church and thought of her husband , and though she did not shed tears , her face puckered up and looked ugly like an old woman ' s . During the winter she had grown thinner and plainer , and her hair had gone a little grey , and instead of the old look of sweetness and the pleasant smile on her face , she had the resigned , mournful ｅxpression left by the sorrows she had been through , and there was something blank and irresponsive in her eyes , as though she did not hear what was said . She was sorry to part from the village and the peasants . She remembered how they had carried out Nikolay , and how a requiem had been ordered for him at almost every hut , and all had shed tears in sympathy with her grief . In the course of the summer and the winter there had been hours and days when it seemed as though these people lived worse than the beasts , and to live with them was terrible ; they were coarse , dishonest , filthy , and drunken ; they did not live in harmony , but quarrelled continually , because they distrusted and feared and did not respect one another . Who keeps the tavern and makes the people drunken ? A peasant . Who wastes and spends on drink the funds of the commune , of the schools , of the church ? A peasant . Who stole from his neighbours , set fire to their property , gave false witness at the court for a bottle of vodka ? At the meetings of the Zemstvo and other local bodies , who was the first to fall foul of the peasants ? A peasant . Yes , to live with them was terrible ; but yet , they were human beings , they suffered and wept like human beings , and there was nothing in their lives for which one could not find excuse . Hard labour that made the whole body ache at night , the cruel winters , the scanty harvests , the overcrowding ; and they had no help and none to whom they could look for help . Those of them who were a little stronger and better off could be no help , as they were themselves coarse , dishonest , drunken , and abused one another just as revoltingly ; the paltriest little clerk or official treated the peasants as though they were tramps , and addressed even the village elders and church wardens as inferiors , and considered they had a right to do so . And , indeed , can any sort of help or good example be given by mercenary , greedy , depraved , and idle persons who only visit the village in order to insult , to despoil , and to terrorize ? Olga remembered the pitiful , humiliated look of the old people when in the winter Kiryak had been taken to be flogged . . . . And now she felt sorry for all these people , painfully so , and as she walked on she kept looking back at the huts . After walking two miles with them Marya said good - bye , then kneeling , and falling forward with her face on the earth , she began wailing : " Again I am left alone . Alas , for poor me ! poor , unhappy ! . . . " And she wailed like this for a long time , and for a long way Olga and Sasha could still see her on her knees , bowing down to someone at the side and clutching her head in her hands , while the rooks flew over her head . The sun rose high ; it began to get hot . Zhukovo was left far behind . Walking was pleasant . Olga and Sasha soon forgot both the village and Marya ; they were gay and everything entertained them . Now they came upon an ancient barrow , now upon a row of telegraph posts running one after another into the distance and disappearing into the horizon , and the wires hummed mysteriously . Then they saw a homestead , all wreathed in green foliage ; there came a scent from it of dampness , of hemp , and it seemed for some reason that happy people lived there . Then they came upon a horse ' s skeleton whitening in solitude in the open fields . And the larks trilled unceasingly , the corncrakes called to one another , and the landrail cried as though someone were really scraping at an old iron rail . At midday Olga and Sasha reached a big village . There in the broad street they met the little old man who was General Zhukov ' s cook . He was hot , and his red , perspiring bald head shone in the sunshine . Olga and he did not recognize each other , then looked round at the same moment , recognized each other , and went their separate ways without saying a word . Stopping near the hut which looked newest and most prosperous , Olga bowed down before the open windows , and said in a loud , thin , chanting voice : " Good Christian folk , give alms , for Christ ' s sake , that God ' s blessing may be upon you , and that your parents may be in the Kingdom of Heaven in peace eternal . " " Good Christian folk , " Sasha began chanting , " give , for Christ ' s sake , that God ' s blessing , the Heavenly Kingdom . . . 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