The peasant answered, holding him by the hands—
“No, little father, go your way, and God go with you; I will not give you the kopeck. It would be a sin to encourage your sin.”
The priest lifted up the tail of his cassock and rushed straight to the manor-house. He ran in and found the barinya with the officer. The officer was merry, as merry as could be, for he had just asked the barinya to be his wife, and she had consented.
“Why, little father, what’s the matter with you?” he asked, laughing. “Has your wife been thrashing you?”
“My wife! That would be nothing serious; we could soon settle that. The peasant has mutinied, that’s what has happened!” And he told them what the peasant had said.
“Well, you’re a fine fellow to call yourself a priest! Your hair may be long, but your head’s short enough! Couldn’t manage a peasant!”
“Bring him to me,” said the new barine to his lackey. “I won’t even speak; I’ll just look at him, and you’ll see how tame he’ll get!”
The lackey went to fetch the peasant, and the barine twirled his moustaches and waited to show off his courage to the priest and the barinya. Presently the lackey came back with the peasant, and stood at the door.
“Bring him here!” said the barine; “let me look at him.” And he glanced sideways, now at the priest, now at the barinya.
They brought in the peasant. The barine stood in the middle of the room, with his left arm akimbo, his right hand in his pocket, and his neck stretched out, clenching his teeth and rolling his eyes. The peasant looked at him, and got quite frightened.