By this time he had nearly reached the shrine at the bend of the road. Looking up, he saw something whitish behind the shrine. The daylight was fading, and the shoemaker peered at the thing without being able to make out what it was. ‘There was no white stone here before. Can it be an ox? It’s not like an ox. It has a head like a man, but it’s too white; and what could a man be doing there?’
He came closer, so that it was clearly visible. To his surprise it really was a man, alive or dead, sitting naked, leaning motionless against the shrine. Terror seized the shoemaker, and he thought, ‘Someone has killed him, stripped him, and left him here. If I meddle I shall surely get into trouble.’
So the shoemaker went on. He passed in front of the shrine so that he could not see the man. When he had gone some way, he looked back, and saw that the man was no longer leaning against the shrine, but was moving as if looking towards him. The shoemaker felt more frightened than before, and thought, ‘Shall I go back to him, or shall I go on? If I go near him something dreadful may happen. Who knows who the fellow is? He has not come here for any good. If I go near him he may jump up and throttle me, and there will be no getting away. Or if not, he’d still be a burden on one’s hands. What could I do with a naked man? I couldn’t give him my last clothes. Heaven only help me to get away!’
So the shoemaker hurried on, leaving the shrine behind him – when suddenly his conscience smote him, and he stopped in the road.
‘What are you doing, Simon?’ said he to himself. ‘The man may be dying of want, and you slip past afraid. Have you grown so rich as to be afraid of robbers? Ah, Simon, shame on you!’
So he turned back and went up to the man.
II
SIMON approached the stranger, looked at him, and saw that he was a young man, fit, with no bruises on his body, only evidently freezing and frightened, and he sat there leaning back without looking up at Simon, as if too faint to lift his eyes. Simon went close to him, and then the man seemed to wake up. Turning his head, he opened his eyes and looked into Simon’s face. That one look was enough to make Simon fond of the man. He threw the felt boots on the ground, undid his sash, laid it on the boots, and took off his cloth coat.
‘It’s not a time for talking,’ said he. ‘Come, put this coat on at once!’ And Simon took the man by the elbows and helped him to rise. As he stood there, Simon saw that his body was clean and in good condition, his hands and feet shapely, and his face good and kind. He threw his coat over the man’s shoulders, but the latter could not find the sleeves. Simon guided his arms into them, and drawing the coat well on, wrapped it closely about him, tying the sash round the man’s waist.
Simon even took off his torn cap to put it on the man’s head, but then his own head felt cold, and he thought: ‘I’m quite bald, while he has long curly hair.’ So he put his cap on his own head again. ‘It will be better to give him something for his feet,’ thought he; and he made the man sit down, and helped him to put on the felt boots, saying, ‘There, friend, now move about and warm yourself. Other matters can be settled later on. Can you walk?’
The man stood up and looked kindly at Simon, but could not say a word.
‘Why don’t you speak?’ said Simon. ‘It’s too cold to stay here, we must be getting home. There now, take my stick, and if you’re feeling weak, lean on that. Now step out!’
The man started walking, and moved easily, not lagging behind.
As they went along, Simon asked him, ‘And where do you belong to?’
‘I’m not from these parts.’
‘I thought as much. I know the folks hereabouts. But how did you come to be there by the shrine?’
‘I cannot tell.’
‘Has someone been ill-treating you?’
‘No one has ill-treated me. God has punished me.’
‘Of course God rules all. Still, you’ll have to find food and shelter somewhere. Where do you want to go to?’
‘It is all the same to me.’
Simon was amazed. The man did not look like a rogue, and he spoke gently, but yet he gave no account of himself. Still Simon thought, ‘Who knows what may have happened?’ And he said to the stranger: ‘Well then, come home with me, and at least warm yourself awhile.’
So Simon walked towards his home, and the stranger kept up with him, walking at his side. The wind had risen and Simon felt it cold under his shirt. He was getting over his tipsiness by now, and began to feel the frost. He went along sniffling and wrapping his wife’s coat round him, and he thought to himself: ‘There now – talk about sheep-skins! I went out for sheep-skins and come home without even a coat to my back, and what is more, I’m bringing a naked man along with me. Matryóna won’t be pleased!’ And when he thought of his wife he felt sad; but when he looked at the stranger and remembered how he had looked up at him at the shrine, his heart was glad.
III
SIMON’S wife had everything ready early that day. She had cut wood, brought water, fed the children, eaten her own meal, and now she sat thinking. She wondered when she ought to make bread: now or to-morrow? There was still a large piece left.
‘If Simon has had some dinner in town,’ thought she, ‘and does not eat much for supper, the bread will last out another day.’
She weighed the piece of bread in her hand again and again, and thought: ‘I won’t make any more to-day. We have only enough flour left to bake one batch. We can manage to make this last out till Friday.’
So Matryóna put away the bread, and sat down at the table to patch her husband’s shirt. While she worked she thought how her husband was buying skins for a winter coat.
‘If only the dealer does not cheat him. My good man is much too simple; he cheats nobody, but any child can take him in. Eight rubles is a lot of money – he should get a good coat at that price. Not tanned skins, but still a proper winter coat. How difficult it was last winter to get on without a warm coat. I could neither get down to the river, nor go out anywhere. When he went out he put on all we had, and there was nothing left for me. He did not start very early to-day, but still it’s time he was back. I only hope he has not gone on the spree!’
Hardly had Matryóna thought this, when steps were heard on the threshold, and someone entered. Matryóna stuck her needle into her work and went out into the passage. There she saw two men: Simon, and with him a man without a hat, and wearing felt boots.
Matryóna noticed at once that her husband smelt of spirits. ‘There now, he has been drinking,’ thought she. And when she saw that he was coatless, had only her jacket on, brought no parcel, stood there silent, and seemed ashamed, her heart was ready to break with disappointment. ‘He has drunk the money,’ thought she, ‘and has been on the spree with some good-for-nothing fellow whom he has brought home with him.’
Matryóna let them pass into the hut, followed them in, and saw that the stranger was a young, slight man, wearing her husband’s coat. There was no shirt to be seen under it, and he had no hat. Having entered, he stood neither moving, nor raising his eyes, and Matryóna thought: ‘He must be a bad man – he’s afraid.’
Matryóna frowned, and stood beside the oven looking to see what they would do.
Simon took off his cap and sat down on the bench as if things were all right.