“‘Well, that does happen sometimes. But you have good pasture there, and I dare say you keep sheep.’
“‘Yes, we have some sheep.’
“‘Dear me, we have had quite a long chat, Yermolai Grigorevitch. I must be off to Court now—the Tsar’s service, as you know. Have you any little business to ask me about, I wonder?’
“‘Indeed I have, Your Worship.’
“‘Well, what is it? Have you been doing something foolish? Be quick and tell me, because I must be starting.’
“‘This is it, Your Honour. Misfortune has come upon me in my old age, and I trust to you. It was Assumption Day; we were in the public-house, and I had words with a man from another village—a nasty fellow he is, who steals our wood. Well, we had some words, and then he raised his fist and struck me on the breast. “Don’t you use your fists off your own dunghill,” said I; and I wanted to teach him a lesson, so I gave him a tap. Now, whether it was the drink or the work of the Evil One, my fist went straight into his eye, and the eye was damaged. He went at once to the police—“I’ll have the law of him,” says he.’
“During this narrative the Judge—a fig for your Petersburg actors!—becomes more and more solemn; the expression of his eyes becomes alarming; he says not a word.
“The peasant sees this and changes colour; he puts his hat down on the ground and takes out a handkerchief to wipe the sweat off his brow. The Judge turns over the leaves of a book and still keeps silence.
“‘That is why I have come to see you, bátyushka,’ the peasant says in a strained voice.
“‘What can I do in such a case? It’s a bad business! What made you hit him in the eye?’