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'And do you want Phílip   To serve as a soldier?'
I ran to Savyéli,   The grandfather, begging His aid and advice.
  "I haven't yet told you A word of Savyéli,   The only one living Of Phílip's relations   Who pitied and loved me. 280
Say, friends, shall I tell you   About him as well?"
"Yes, tell us his tale, And we'll each throw a couple Of sheaves in to-morrow,   Above what we promised."
"Well, well," says Matróna,   "And 'twould be a pity To give old Savyéli No place in the story; 290 For he was a happy one,   Too—the old man…." 

CHAPTER III

SAVYÉLI

"A mane grey and bushy 

  Which covered his shoulders, 

A huge grizzled beard 

  Which had not seen the scissors 

For twenty odd years, 

  Made Savyéli resemble 

A shaggy old bear, 

  Especially when he 

Came out of the forest, 

  So broad and bent double. 10

The grandfather's shoulders 

  Were bowed very low, 

And at first I was frightened 

  Whenever he entered 

The tiny low cottage:

  I thought that were he 

To stand straight of a sudden 

  He'd knock a great hole 

With his head in the ceiling.

  But Grandfather could not 20 

Stand straight, and they told me 

That he was a hundred.

  He lived all alone 

In his own little cottage, 

  And never permitted 

The others to enter; 

  He couldn't abide them. 

Of course they were angry 

  And often abused him. 

His own son would shout at him, 30 

  'Branded one! Convict!' 

But this did not anger

  Savyéli, he only 

Would go to his cottage 

  Without making answer, 

And, crossing himself, 

  Begin reading the scriptures;

Then suddenly cry 

  In a voice loud and joyful, 

'Though branded—no slave!' 40

  When too much they annoyed him, 

He sometimes would say to them: 

  'Look, the swat's[46] coming!'

The unmarried daughter 

  Would fly to the window; 

Instead of the swat there 

  A beggar she'd find!

And one day he silvered 

  A common brass farthing, 

And left it to lie 50 

  On the floor; and then straightway 

Did Father-in-law run 

  In joy to the tavern,— 

He came back, not tipsy, 

  But beaten half-dead!

At supper that night 

  We were all very silent, 

And Father-in-law had 

  A cut on his eyebrow, 

But Grandfather's face 60 

  Wore a smile like a rainbow!

"Savyéli would gather 

  The berries and mushrooms 

From spring till late autumn, 

  And snare the wild rabbits;

Throughout the long winter 

He lay on the oven 

  And talked to himself.

He had favourite sayings: 

He used to lie thinking 70 

  For whole hours together, 

And once in an hour 

  You would hear him exclaiming:

"'Destroyed … and subjected!' 

  Or, 'Ai, you toy heroes! 

You're fit but for battles 

  With old men and women!'

"'Be patient … and perish, 

Impatient … and perish!'

"'Eh, you Russian peasant, 80 

  You giant, you strong man, 

The whole of your lifetime 

  You're flogged, yet you dare not 

Take refuge in death, 

  For Hell's torments await you!'

"'At last the Korójins[47] 

  Awoke, and they paid him, 

They paid him, they paid him, 

  They paid the whole debt!'

And many such sayings 90 

  He had,—I forget them. 

When Father-in-law grew 

  Too noisy I always 

Would run to Savyéli, 

  And we two, together, 

Would fasten the door.

  Then I began working, 

While Djómushka climbed 

  To the grandfather's shoulder, 

And sat there, and looked 100 

  Like a bright little apple 

That hung on a hoary 

  Old tree. Once I asked him:

"'And why do they call you 

  A convict, Savyéli?'

"'I was once a convict,' 

  Said he.

"'You, Savyéli!'

"'Yes I, little Grandchild, 

  Yes, I have been branded. 110 

I buried a German 

  Alive—Christian Vogel.'

"'You're joking, Savyéli!'

  "'Oh no, I'm not joking. 

I mean it,' he said, 

  And he told me the story.

"'The peasants in old days 

  Were serfs as they now are, 

But our race had, somehow, 

  Not seen its Pomyéshchick; 120 

No manager knew we, 

  No pert German agent.

And barschin we gave not, 

  And taxes we paid not 

Except when it pleased us,— 

  Perhaps once in three years 

Our taxes we'd pay.'

"'But why, little Grandad?'

  "'The times were so blessed,— 

And folk had a saying 130 

  That our little village 

Was sought by the devil 

  For more than three years, 

But he never could find it.

  Great forests a thousand 

Years old lay about us; 

And treacherous marshes 

  And bogs spread around us; 

No horseman and few men 

  On foot ever reached us. 140

It happened that once 

  By some chance, our Pomyéshchick, 

Shaláshnikov, wanted 

  To pay us a visit.

High placed in the army 

  Was he; and he started 

With soldiers to find us.

  They soon got bewildered 

And lost in the forest, 

  And had to turn back; 150

Why, the Zemsky policeman 

  Would only come once 

In a year! They were good times!

  In these days the Barin 

Lives under your window; 

  The roadways go spreading 

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46

The marriage agent.

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47

Inhabitants of the village Korojin.