But what happened at Bagrovo, when the good news came that God had given a son and heir to Alexyéi Stepanitch? This is what happened at Bagrovo. From the 15th of September, Stepan Mihailovitch counted the days and hours, and waited for the special messenger from Ufa. The man had been told to gallop day and night with relays of horses. This method of travelling was new, and Stepan Mihailovitch disapproved of it as a foolish waste of money and an unnecessary tax on the country people. He preferred to use his own horses; but the importance and solemnity of this occasion made him depart from his regular practice. Fortune did not keep him in suspense too long: on the 22nd of September, when he was sleeping after dinner, the messenger arrived, bearing letters and the good news. The old man woke from a sound sleep, and had hardly had time to stretch himself and clear his throat when Mazan rushed into the room and, stammering with joyful excitement, got out the words, "A grandson, batyushka Stepan Mihailovitch! Hearty congratulations!"
The first movement of Stepan Mihailovitch was to cross himself. Then he sprang out of bed, went barefoot to his desk, snatched from it the family tree, took the pen from the ink-bottle, drew a line from the circle containing the name Alexyéi, traced a fresh circle at the end of the line, and wrote in the centre of the circle, "Serghéi."
Farewell! my figures, bright or dark, my people, good or bad—I should rather say, figures that have their bright and dark sides, and people who have both virtues and vices. You are not great heroes, not imposing personalities; you trod your path on earth in silence and obscurity, and it is long, very long, since you left it. But you were men and women, and your inward and outward life was not mere dull prose, but as interesting and instructive to us as we and our life in turn will be interesting and instructive to our descendants. You were actors in that mighty drama which mankind has played on this earth since time immemorial; you played your parts as conscientiously as others, and you deserve as well to be remembered. By the mighty power of the pen and of print, your descendants have now been made acquainted with you.[54] They have greeted you with sympathy and recognised you as brothers, whenever and however you lived, and whatever clothes you wore. May no harsh judgment and no flippant tongue ever wrong your memory!
THE END.
PRINTED BY
WILLIAM CLOWES AND SONS, LIMITED,
LONDON AND BECCLES