"Come, go on; tell me quickly how it all happened."
Iermola then related every detail of the story concerning the baby, the goat, all his hopes and anxieties; the difficulties he had encountered in earning enough money, in learning to read, and the necessity which was now upon him to undertake some trade. The old officer listened attentively; and what was still more strange, his son Jan, who had started toward the door as the old man entered, glad of an opportunity to get some fresh air, was so interested in what Iermola was telling that he stood motionless in the doorway to hear the end.
"Truly, this is a strange thing!" cried the chief of squadron when the story was finished. "Unnatural parents abandon their child on the threshold of a poor cabin, and the Lord sends the orphan a father a hundred times better than the one Nature had bestowed. But my old friend, the blessing from Heaven comes to you rather late, it seems to me. Since the world began, no one ever heard of a man of your age taking it into his head to learn a trade and undertaking such rash business projects. How old are you?"
Iermola knew perfectly well that he had lived sixty good long years, but he dared not confess it, lest the chief of squadron should discourage him still more or laugh at him; he therefore replied without hesitation,--
"What does that matter? As soon as the hair turns gray, one is old. But it is weakness and poverty which make us feel our years; and God knows the number of them."
"Pshaw! pshaw! God knows, but man knows too; I can tell you pretty well how old you are," interrupted the chief of squadron, counting on his fingers. "You were six or seven years old when you were taken as shepherd boy at the dwor. I was not here then; but when I came to this country forty years ago, your late master told me you had then been living with him about seventeen years. So counting it all up, you are now past sixty, my brother."
"That may be; but since I feel well and strong--"
"Ah, that is a great blessing!" cried the chief of squadron. "You are not like me; I am wretched and infirm, tried sorely by God, despised by men, and cast down to the very earth itself, which should long since have swallowed me up."
"Gracious lord, you ought not to speak so."
"Come, come! we all know our own troubles. The ass must rub the place that hurts."