So the old man was no longer ill-treated by his children, but lived among them like an emperor in his own empire, but no sooner did he die than his children made what haste they could to lay hands upon the casket. All the people were called together and bore witness that they had treated their father well since he came back to them, so it was adjudged that they should divide the treasure amongst them. But first they took the old man’s body to church and the casket along with it. They buried him as God commands. They made a rich banquet of funeral meats that all might know how much they mourned the old man; it was a splendid funeral. When the priest got up from the table, the people all began to thank their hosts, and the eldest son begged the priest to say the sorokoust[26] in the church for the repose of the dead man’s soul. “Such a dear old fellow as he was!” said he; “was there ever any one like him? Take this money for the sorokoust, reverend father!” so horribly grieved was that eldest son. So the eldest son gave the priest 225 money, and the second son gave him the like. Nay, each one gave him money for an extra half sorokoust, all four gave him requiem money. “We’ll have prayers in church for our father though we sell our last sheep to pay for them,” cried they. Then, when all was over, they hastened as fast as they could to the money. The coffer was brought forth. They shook it. There was a fine rattling inside it. Every one of them felt and handled the coffer. That was something like a treasure! Then they unsealed it and opened it and scattered the contents––and it was full of nothing but glass! They wouldn’t believe their eyes. They rummaged among the glass, but there was no money. It was horrible! Surely it could not be that their father had dug up a coffer from beneath an oak of the forest and it was full of nothing but glass! “Why!” cried the brothers, “our father has left us nothing but glass!” But for the crowds of people there, the brothers would have fallen upon and beaten each other in their wrath. So the children of the old man saw that their father had made fools of them. Then all the people mocked them: “You see what you have gained by sending your father to school! You see he learned something at school after all! He was a long time before he began learning, but better late than never. It appears to us ’twas a right good school you sent him to. No doubt they whipped him into learning so much. Never mind, you can keep the money and the casket!” Then the brothers were full of lamentation and rage. But what could they do? Their father was already dead and buried.
IVAN THE FOOL AND ST PETER’S FIFE
IVAN THE FOOL AND ST PETER’S
FIFE
There was once upon a time a man who had three sons, and two were clever, but the third, called Ivan, was a fool. Their father divided all his goods among them and died, and the three brothers went out into the world to seek their fortunes. Now the two wise brothers left all their goods at home, but Ivan the fool, who had only inherited a large millstone, took it along with him. They went on and on and on till it began to grow dark, when they came to a large forest. Then the wise brothers said, “Let us climb up to the top of this oak and pass the night there, and then robbers will not fall upon us.”––“But what will this silly donkey do with his millstone?” asked one of them.––“You look to yourselves,” said Ivan, “for I mean to pass the night in this tree also.” Then the wise brothers climbed to the very tip-top of the tree and there sat down, and then Ivan dragged himself up too, and the millstone after him. He tried to get up as high as his brothers, but the thin boughs broke beneath him, so he had to be content with staying in the lower part of the tree on the thicker boughs; so there he sat, hugging the millstone in his arms. Presently some robbers came along that way, red-handed from their work, and they too prepared to pass the night under the tree. So they cut them down firewood, and made them a roaring fire beneath a huge cauldron, and in this cauldron they began to boil their supper. They boiled and boiled till their mess of pottage was ready, and then they all sat down round the cauldron 230 and took out their large ladles, and were just about to fall to––in fact they were blowing their food because it was so boiling hot––when Ivan let his big millstone plump down into the middle of the cauldron, so that the pottage flew right into their eyes. The robbers were so terrified that they all sprang to their feet straightway and scampered off through the forest, forgetting all the booty of which they had robbed the merchantmen. Then Ivan came down from the oak and cried to his brothers, “You come down here and divide the spoil!” So the wise brothers came down, put all the merchandise on the backs of the robbers’ horses, and went home with it; but the only thing that Ivan was able to secure for himself was a bag of incense. This he immediately took to the nearest churchyard, placed it on the top of a tomb, and began to pound away at it with his millstone. Suddenly St Peter appeared to him and said, “What art thou doing, good man?”––“I am pounding up this incense to make bread of it.”––“Nay, good man, I will advise thee better: give me the incense and take from me whatever thou wilt.”––“Very well, St Peter,” said the fool; “thou must give me a little fife, but a fife of such a sort that whenever I play upon it, every one will be obliged to dance.”––“But dost thou know how to play upon a fife?”––“No, but I can soon learn.” Then St Peter drew forth a little fife from his bosom and gave it to him, and took away the incense, and who can say where he went with it? But Ivan stood up and gazed at the sky and said, “Look now! if St Peter hath not already burnt my incense and made of it that large white cloud that is sailing 231 above my head!” Then he took up his fife and began to play, and the moment he began to play, everything around him began to dance; the wolves, and the hares, and the foxes, and the bears, nay, the very birds lit down upon the ground and began to dance, and Ivan went on laughing and playing all the time. Even the savage, surly bears danced and danced till their legs tottered beneath them. Then they clutched tight hold of the trees to stop themselves from dancing; but it was of no use, dance they must. At last Ivan himself was tired, and lay down to rest, and when he had rested a little, he got up again and went on into the town. There all the people were in the bazaars, buying and selling. Some were buying pancakes, others baskets of bright-coloured eggs, others again pitchers of kvas. Ivan began playing on his fife, and forthwith they all fell a-dancing. One man who had a whole basket of eggs on his head danced them into bits, and danced and danced till he looked like the yolk of an egg himself. Those who were asleep got up and gave themselves up to dancing straightway; there were some who danced without trousers, and some who danced without smocks or shirts, and there were some who danced with nothing on at all, for dance they must when Ivan began a-playing. The whole town was turned upside down: the dogs, the swine, the cocks and hens, everything that had life came out and danced. At last Ivan was tired, so he left off playing and went into the town to seek service. The parson there took a fancy to him, and said to him, “Good man! wilt enter my service?”––“That will I, gladly,” said Ivan.––“How much wages dost thou want by the year 232 then?”––“It won’t come dear; five karbovantsya[27] are all I ask.”––“Good, I agree,” said the parson. So he engaged Ivan as his servant, and the next day he sent him out into the fields to tend his cattle. Ivan drove the cattle into the pastures, but he himself perched on the top of a haystack while the cattle grazed. He sat there, and sat and sat till he grew quite dull, and then he said to himself, “I’ll play a bit on my fife, I haven’t played for a long time.” So he began to play, and immediately all the cattle fell a-dancing; and not only the cattle, but all the foxes, and the hares, and the wolves, and everything in the hedges and ditches fell a-dancing too. They danced and danced till the poor cattle were clean worn out and at the last gasp. In the evening Ivan drove them home, but they were so famished that they tugged at the dirty straw roofs of the huts they passed, and so got a chance mouthful or two. But Ivan went in and had supper and a comfortable night’s rest afterward. The next day he again drove the cattle into the pastures. They began grazing till he took out his fife again, when they all fell a-dancing like mad. He played on and on till evening, when he drove the cattle home again, and they were all as hungry as could be, and wearied to death from dancing.
