“Never trouble thyself for thy friend Stefen; he is rich enough this day to buy his freedom, if he will. He who gave him back his life has taken care to make that life worth the keeping.”
“Then he can marry Katinka?”
“He can marry whom he pleases. Our lord the Czar never leaves anything half done.”
“Oh! what a good day it has been!” and Ivan, in his own estimation far too old to be deceived by an idle story, was by no means too old to leap and dance for very joy.
“You believe that,” said the priest; “then why do you doubt the rest of my story?”
“Because,” returned Ivan, “I have wit enough to know that the great Czar, who ‘is God upon earth,’ as the proverb says, would not care for the life of a poor mujik, and toil hard to save it, as my boyar did this day.”
“Well, fools will be fools while the world lasts. Here, take thy shuba; Stefen left it for thee when they brought him to the post-house. Go thy ways; and God teach thee that it shows more wit to believe what one is told than to question it.”
“Good day, father,” returned Ivan; “I am going home—to Nicolofsky, where people speak the truth to their neighbours.”
With this parting shaft, he drew on his shuba, and turned his steps homewards, highly pleased with his adventure. What a story he would have for the starost and mativshka, for Pope Nikita and one-eared Michael, not to speak of Anna Popovna, by no means the least in his estimation!
He crossed the river without delay—the ferry-boat and the penitent ferryman being this time both in readiness—and then he resumed his journey on foot. As he walked, he ate the remainder of his bread; for he had tasted nothing that day, and it was now long past noon. With a happy heart he pursued his way until about sunset, when fatigue obliged him to stop and rest. He lay down under a solitary fir-tree, intending only to indulge in a short—a very short slumber. But nature proved too strong for him: when he awoke again the sky was flushed with the light of early dawn. The remainder of his task was quickly accomplished: he walked into the starost’s cottage as the family were sitting down to their morning meal of kasha, or stewed grain.