Iván had forgotten about his father, and did not understand what they were saying to him.
"What father?" he said. "Send for whom?"
"He has sent for you, to bid you good-bye. He is dying in our house. Come, Uncle Iván!" said the elder's son, pulling him by his arm.
Iván followed the elder's son.
When the old man, was carried out, burning straw fell on him and scorched him. He was taken to the elder's house in a distant part of the village. This part did not burn.
When Iván came to his father, only the elder's wife was there, and the children on the oven. The rest were all at the fire. The old man was lying on a bench, with a taper in his hand, and looking toward the door. When his son entered, he stirred a little. The old woman went up to him and said that his son had come. He told her to have him come closer to him. Iván went up, and then the old man said:
"What have I told you, Iván? Who has burned the village?"
"He, father," said Iván, "he,—I caught him at it. He put the fire to the roof while I was standing near. If I could only have caught the burning bunch of straw and put it out, there would not have been anything."
"Iván," said the old man, "my death has come, and you, too, will die. Whose sin is it?"
Iván stared at his father and kept silence; he could not say a word.