Part 8 (2/2)

What may not love, will, and patience overcome? The old goat, which had shown such obstinacy of character in the first days after her separation from Szmula at last grew so attached to her new master that she followed the old man and the baby everywhere. At first she ran away several times and went back to the inn. Szmula had even given secret orders to have her killed, intending to put her four quarters into the pot, but Iermola, divining his intentions even at that distance, gave the baby for a few moments to the widow, and found the goat concealed behind a pile of straw in the pig-sty; whereupon he, by his cries and threats, frightened Szmula so terribly that the Jew never again had any desire to face such an adversary. As a finis.h.i.+ng stroke to his misfortunes, Szmula was obliged to bestow gratuitous drinks upon the village men who had been attracted to the inn by Iermola's cries and uproar, and whom he naturally wished to get rid of as soon as possible.

Finally, the goat, well cared for and well fed, began to understand that she could henceforth expect no good from Szmula. She therefore regarded him with supreme indifference; and serving her new owner with fidelity, she would not even turn her head when she happened to pa.s.s by the inn. Consequently she became a great favourite with Iermola, the thing he loved best in the world, except the well-beloved baby, of course; and as the child jabbered to her constantly, and she was always with him, she became not only his nourisher, but almost his nurse. The baby knew well her black fierce eyes and her long beard, which he pulled with his little fingers; the Jewess would come at his slightest call and stand over his cradle with wonderful intelligence and precaution. She became, in fact, one of the family; and Iermola, rendering her full justice, was utterly astonished that he had not been able at first to recognize her excellent qualities.

But the satisfaction which the old goat gave him--and he would not now have given her up at any price--was nothing in comparison with the infinite and ever-increasing joy the baby was to him, as he grew and developed day by day. Little Radionek had a peculiarly gentle disposition and uncommon strength and health, as is usually the case with poor little orphans.

It seems as though G.o.d in His providence bestows earlier and more abundantly upon those who have no mother the faculties and forces necessary to existence. But however lovely and well-developed Radionek may have been, Iermola doubtless saw in him many more virtues and charms than he really possessed. The widow rallied him on the subject, but this did no good, and only irritated him; he called her wicked, jealous, and blind, and would go away, low-spirited, carrying his treasure with him. The old woman, however, was also sincerely attached to the child, who certainly owed much to her. Indeed, without her counsels and a.s.sistance, the adoptive father would have found it very difficult to acquit himself in his new, strange, and hard position. All his neighbours were good to him, and helped him in time of need, for the baby became the pet, the darling, and the wonder of the village.

After several months of watchfulness and continual care, Iermola at last found time to ask himself what he would do in the future, and even spoke frequently of the projects he had formed for himself and the baby. Ah, he had so many dreams, and built so many castles in the air!

First of all, he did not wish the child to be a simple villager; he desired for him a better condition and more brilliant and n.o.ble career.

But the choice of a career seemed very difficult to him; for his dear Radionek everything seemed too humble and too pitiful. What he would have liked best would have been to buy an estate and see him some day manage it as he chose; but poor as they were, it was foolish even to think of that. He was of course obliged to think of something else.

During his long seasons of thought Iermola reviewed a number of trades and different occupations; but he always found some fault with them.

The shoemaker from sitting so constantly must have bent limbs and stooping shoulders; the miller was obliged to stand all day; the blacksmith was exposed to being burned by his hot fire; the mason was tired with carrying tiles and climbing ladders and suffering from the cold and the wind and the heat. Iermola did not wish to expose his dear child to any of these dangers and troubles.

He always firmly intended to have his dear Radionek learn to read and write, but it was necessary to wait a few years before doing that; and the chorister in the church, the only man in the village who had dived into the mysteries of the alphabet, and who would have been able to take charge of his pupil's education, was already very old. If he should die, would his successor be as accommodating or as learned as he? This was a sadly perplexing subject for the old man. He conceived the idea of settling the matter by asking the chorister to teach him, so that when the time came he would be able to teach the child to read and write without any one's a.s.sistance. With this intention he bought a primer from a Jew pedler; and soon every day the old man might be seen with the baby in his arms and the goat following him, going along the one street of the village on his way to the farther end of it, where he took his daily lesson from old Andrej Prosforowiez. It was beautiful to see the old man perspiring and growing red in the face, studying and working over the pages of his primer, holding the baby with one hand, and with the other the iron needle which he used to point to his letters. One consoling idea sustained him through all this hard task.

At least, in this way the old chorister, who was not very patient, would not be made to torment Radionek, whom he would doubtless have caused to pa.s.s some unhappy half-hours. Iermola knew very well that when he should undertake the task of paternal education, he would succeed by means of gentleness and perseverance in imparting all he knew to his child, without either trouble or contention.

But truly it is no easy matter to undertake to learn the alphabet when one is almost sixty years old; to sit quietly with fixed attention for long hours; to keep eyes still which have been accustomed to wander freely; to take an interest in those black, irregular, and excessively small characters. It is an enormous undertaking, a real torment, which can be endured only by remarkable perseverance, will, and strength of affection. Iermola, indeed, groaned and was weary more than once; but he did not abandon the task which he had so bravely begun, and at last the time came when he could read. Fortunately, his sight was still good, which helped him very much in his work; and he found less difficulty, after all, than the chorister had feared. The old instructor received as his pay a half-roll of linen containing fifty yards, and very wide, which had been kept a long time, with a s.h.i.+ny silver rouble in addition.

As for the care bestowed upon the baby, the old man acquitted himself as if he had been a foster-father all his life. The cradle was placed beside his bed; the goat slept in a corner near by. At the slightest sound from the baby, the father was on his feet to see what the innocent creature needed. He slept but little; but he never had needed a great deal of sleep. During the day he took the little one in his arms and wandered with him along the sh.o.r.e, in the woods, in the fields, under the oaks; and when he grew weary he sat down on the door-sill. This sight, which at first had appeared so strange and ridiculous to the villagers, at last seemed pleasant and interesting.

They smiled at the orphan, and admired the perseverance and tenderness of the foster-father; and on Sundays, a few old companions came out to the ruined inn to see the baby and talk with their old neighbour.

Iermola was charmed when he found himself surrounded by this little circle of friends, in whose presence he could show off the attractions of his darling pet; and by his earnest praise and repeated recitals he at last succeeded in persuading his neighbours that the pretty boy he had found promised to be really an extraordinary child. What was indeed very strange in all this was that in spite of his various cares and constant fatigue Iermola grew visibly younger. His figure was more erect than before, his step lighter, his countenance more smiling, fresh, and fair; work, want of sleep, and fatigue did not overcome him so much as hope soothed and strengthened him. It might really be said that from the moment when he had found a hope and an aim he had begun a new existence, a sweeter life. Nevertheless, his existence, as may well be imagined, was not a succession of joys and ever-renewed delights; the presence of the child, while sensibly increasing his wants and expenses, forced upon him a formidable undertaking, a constant labour, for henceforth he must supply not only the bread for to-day, but that for the morrow also.

The poor usually require very little to satisfy their daily wants.

Iermola was particularly temperate and sober; he could easily do without this or that thing when necessary, and he had never, up to the moment when, by G.o.d's providence, the new-comer had appeared in his cabin, suffered from hunger. He had indeed no certain income; but he never begged, and he managed, by doing his best, to pay very regularly a rent of twenty florins a year for his little garden and poor cottage.

It is very hard for us, who have been accustomed to a better style of living, to understand how the poor can sustain themselves, and be content upon so little. Old Iermola had saved up during his long years of service only a few pieces of cloth, which he had laid by, one at a time, together with about twenty roubles and some worthless rags. He could have obtained for these enough to pay his rent in advance and buy his daily food; but if he had not added to this little sum by his daily earnings, it would soon have been exhausted. Iermola, it is true, spent very little upon himself, for he got his meals at first one place and then another in the village; the cossack's widow fed him oftenest, and was not willing to receive anything from him in return. Moreover, he was always content with a little bread and bacon and some potatoes; he took great care of his old clothes, which fortunately had not yet given out. But there was that dreadful rent, which had to be paid from the profits of his garden, which formed the sole income of the good man.

This square bit of ground, surrounded by a paling of laths and situated close to the old house, was almost as large as an ordinary peasant's garden; besides this, there was, a few rods from the inn, about an acre of good land on which oaks and pines grew. There Iermola sowed some tobacco in the spots he thought most fertile; farther on he planted potatoes, cabbages at the end of his garden, beets, peas, and other vegetables in the rest of the enclosure. Sometimes his little crop turned out well, and then, besides getting from his garden all that he needed for his own subsistence, he sold enough to bring him the twenty florins necessary to pay his rent. At other times the vegetables were a failure; and the poor man was obliged to resort to other means of procuring the sum.

Under such circ.u.mstances, the woods and the river were a great resource for the peasants; and as the inhabitants of Popielnia were not forbidden access to them, they all found there some means of existence.

So long as Iermola had lived alone, he had engaged in fis.h.i.+ng; for this purpose he stretched nets and set weirs. In fis.h.i.+ng at night with a lance he was at times not unsuccessful, and he sold the fruit of his labour at the neighbouring _dwor_ or in the town. In addition to this, he gathered and dried mushrooms, which were a still more profitable commodity, as the price of them had for some time been going up. But after he had little Radionek almost constantly in his arms, these two employments became impossible. He could not leave the child alone, and spend the night fis.h.i.+ng or pa.s.s the day in the woods.

And meantime the expenses increased; the small supply of money had been used at first to buy the goat and several trifles the baby was obliged to have. It was necessary for the poor man to do something new.

Formerly he had worked gratis in the fields of his friends and the poor; now his time became dear and precious to him. He resolved to work for hire. Soon he might be seen, like those women who at times when work is pressing join the reapers in the fields, starting out every day with the goat, the baby, three stakes, a basket, and a tent. He put the baby in the basket between two furrows under the shade of the piece of coa.r.s.e linen, stretched on top of the stakes; the old goat watched the little one, and he meantime cut down, gathered, and bound the wheat. In this way he earned his food and about twenty coppers a day in addition; for it is rare that a labourer is paid more than that in Polesia. He had to work three days, and work hard too, in order to earn two florins, which elsewhere is given for sixty sheaves. He had to cut sixty sheaves of thin, scattering wheat, and stoop over them, sweating and breathless, then carry them; and they make them heavy in Polesia, although in order to form them, one has to gather the straws one by one.

Often, returning to his deserted home from the distant harvest field, carrying the basket and the baby, the old man felt overcome with the weight of his years and the heat of the day, worn out and sleepy and almost sad; but one single glance at little Radionek, who was always smiling, sufficed to restore his strength, and the night's sleep refreshed him and prepared him for the next day's work. In fact, Iermola never had worked so hard or been so fatigued before; the villagers regarded with respect his perseverance, his earnestness, and his faithful devotion. Not daring to touch the gold found in the baby's clothes, because he considered it the orphan's property, he undertook to supply everything himself; and this became more and more difficult, for he scarcely had time to work his garden. He bravely devoted all his mornings and evenings to this work; the rest of the day he occupied himself in working in the fields.

But the heart can conceive and work out miracles as soon as it is warmed and animated by a ray of affection. It is a unique and sovereign talisman. Without it everything is full of thorns, everything is difficult; with it all obstacles melt away, and dangers disappear.

At the end of a few months of brave and constant effort, field labour began to be unsatisfactory to Iermola. The baby grew, and the earnings were very small; besides, the chorister had charged a rouble for his lessons, and G.o.d knows how much time the study-hours occupied each day.

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