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They'll give you a basket    And throw at the bottom  A crust. You will chew it,    My poor little dove, 50  And start working again….'
  "But, brothers, I did not  Spend much time in sleeping;    And when I was five  On the day of St. Simon,    I mounted a horse  With the help of my father,    And then was no longer  A child. And at six years    I carried my father 60  His breakfast already,    And tended the ducks,  And at night brought the cow home,    And next—took my rake,  And was off to the hayfields!
  And so by degrees  I became a great worker,    And yet best of all  I loved singing and dancing;
  The whole day I worked 70  In the fields, and at nightfall    Returned to the cottage  All covered with grime.
  But what's the hot bath for?  And thanks to the bath    And boughs of the birch-tree,  And icy spring water,    Again I was clean  And refreshed, and was ready    To take out my spinning-wheel, 80  And with companions    To sing half the night.
"I never ran after    The youths, and the forward  I checked very sharply.
To those who were gentle    And shy, I would whisper:  'My cheeks will grow hot,    And sharp eyes has my mother;
Be wise, now, and leave me 90    Alone'—and they left me.
"No matter how clever    I was to avoid them,  The one came at last    I was destined to wed;
And he—to my bitter    Regret—was a stranger:  Young Phílip Korchágin,    A builder of ovens.
He came from St. Petersburg. 100    Oh, how my mother  Did weep: 'Like a fish    In the ocean, my daughter,  You'll plunge and be lost;
  Like a nightingale, straying  Away from its nest,    We shall lose you, my daughter!
The walls of the stranger    Are not built of sugar,  Are not spread with honey, 110    Their dwellings are chilly  And garnished with hunger;    The cold winds will nip you,  The black rooks will scold you,    The savage dogs bite you,  The strangers despise you.'
"But Father sat talking    And drinking till late  With the 'swat.'[45] I was frightened.
  I slept not all night…. 120    "Oh, youth, pray you, tell me,  Now what can you find    In the maiden to please you?  And where have you seen her?    Perhaps in the sledges  With merry young friends    Flying down from the mountain?
Then you were mistaken,    O son of your father,  It was but the frost 130    And the speed and the laughter  That brought the bright tints    To the cheeks of the maiden.
Perhaps at some feast    In the home of a neighbour  You saw her rejoicing    And clad in bright colours?
But then she was plump    From her rest in the winter;  Her rosy face bloomed 140    Like the scarlet-hued poppy;
But wait!—have you been    To the hut of her father  And seen her at work    Beating flax in the barn?  Ah, what shall I do?
  I will take brother falcon  And send him to town:
  'Fly to town, brother falcon,  And bring me some cloth 150    And six colours of worsted,  And tassels of blue.
  I will make a fine curtain,  Embroider each corner    With Tsar and Tsaritsa,  With Moscow and Kiev,    And Constantinople,  And set the great sun    Shining bright in the middle,  And this I will hang 160    In the front of my window:
Perhaps you will see it,    And, struck by its beauty,  Will stand and admire it,    And will not remember  To seek for the maiden….'
  "And so till the morning  I lay with such thoughts.
  'Now, leave me, young fellow,'  I said to the youth 170    When he came in the evening;
'I will not be foolish    Enough to abandon  My freedom in order    To enter your service.
God sees me—I will not    Depart from my home!'
  "'Do come,' said young Phílip,  'So far have I travelled    To fetch you. Don't fear me— 180    I will not ill-treat you.'
I begged him to leave me,    I wept and lamented;  But nevertheless    I was still a young maiden:
I did not forget    Sidelong glances to cast  At the youth who thus wooed me.
  And Phílip was handsome,  Was rosy and lusty, 190    Was strong and broad-shouldered,  With fair curling hair,   With a voice low and tender….  Ah, well … I was won….
"'Come here, pretty fellow,    And stand up against me,  Look deep in my eyes—    They are clear eyes and truthful;
Look well at my rosy    Young face, and bethink you: 200  Will you not regret it,    Won't my heart be broken,  And shall I not weep    Day and night if I trust you  And go with you, leaving    My parents forever?'
"'Don't fear, little pigeon,    We shall not regret it,'
Said Phílip, but still    I was timid and doubtful. 210  'Do go,' murmured I, and he,    'When you come with me.'
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45

The marriage agent.