We shall have to let it go till summer. In the summer, G.o.d willing, we shall go by all means."
"According to my understanding," said Elisey, "there is no sense in delaying. We ought to go at once. Spring is the best time."
"The time is all right, but the work is begun, so how can I drop it?"
"Have you n.o.body to attend to it? Your son will do it."
"Do it? My eldest is not reliable,--he drinks."
"When we die, friend, they will get along without us. Let your son learn it!"
"That is so, but still I want to see things done under my eyes."
"Oh, dear man! You can never attend to everything. The other day the women in my house were washing and cleaning up for the holidays. This and that had to be done, and everything could not be looked after. My eldest daughter-in-law, a clever woman, said: "It is a lucky thing the holidays come without waiting for us, for else, no matter how much we might work, we should never get done.""
Tarasych fell to musing.
"I have spent a great deal of money on this building," he said, "and I can"t start out on the pilgrimage with empty hands. One hundred roubles are not a trifling matter."
Elisey laughed.
"Don"t sin, friend!" he said. "You have ten times as much as I, and yet you talk about money. Only say when we shall start. I have no money, but that will be all right."
Tarasych smiled.
"What a rich man you are!" he said. "Where shall you get the money from?"
"I will scratch around in the house and will get together some there; and if that is not enough, I will let my neighbour have ten hives. He has been asking me for them."
"You will have a fine swarm! You will be worrying about it."
"Worrying? No, my friend! I have never worried about anything in life but sins. There is nothing more precious than the soul."
"That is so; but still, it is not good if things do not run right at home."
"If things do not run right in our soul, it is worse. We have made a vow, so let us go! Truly, let us go!"
II.
Elisey persuaded his friend to go. Efim thought and thought about it, and on the following morning he came to Elisey.
"Well, let us go," he said, "you have spoken rightly. G.o.d controls life and death. We must go while we are alive and have strength."
A week later the old men started.
Tarasych had money at home. He took one hundred roubles with him and left two hundred with his wife.
Elisey, too, got ready. He sold his neighbour ten hives and the increase of ten other hives. For the whole he received seventy roubles. The remaining thirty roubles he swept up from everybody in the house. His wife gave him the last she had,--she had put it away for her funeral; his daughter-in-law gave him what she had.
Efim Tarasych left all his affairs in the hands of his eldest son: he told him where to mow, and how many fields to mow, and where to haul the manure, and how to finish the hut and thatch it. He considered everything, and gave his orders. But all the order that Elisey gave was that his wife should set out the young brood separately from the hives sold and give the neighbour what belonged to him without cheating him, but about domestic affairs he did not even speak: "The needs themselves," he thought, "will show you what to do and how to do it. You have been farming yourselves, so you will do as seems best to you."
The old men got ready. The home folk baked a lot of flat cakes for them, and they made wallets for themselves, cut out new leg-rags, put on new short boots, took reserve bast shoes, and started. The home folk saw them off beyond the enclosure and bade them good-bye, and the old men were off for their pilgrimage.
Elisey left in a happy mood, and as soon as he left his village he forgot all his affairs. All the care he had was how to please his companion, how to keep from saying an unseemly word to anybody, how to reach the goal in peace and love, and how to get home again. As Elisey walked along the road he either muttered some prayer or repeated such of the lives of the saints as he knew. Whenever he met a person on the road, or when he came to a hostelry, he tried to be as kind to everybody as he could, and to say to them G.o.d-fearing words. He walked along and was happy. There was only one thing Elisey could not do: he wanted to stop taking snuff and had left his snuff-box at home, but he hankered for it. On the road a man offered him some. He wrangled with himself and stepped away from his companion so as not to lead him into sin, and took a pinch.
Efim Tarasych walked firmly and well; he did no wrong and spoke no vain words, but there was no lightness in his heart. The cares about his home did not leave his mind. He was thinking all the time about what was going on at home,--whether he had not forgotten to give his son some order, and whether his son was doing things in the right way. When he saw along the road that they were setting out potatoes or hauling manure, he wondered whether his son was doing as he had been ordered. He just felt like returning, and showing him what to do, and doing it himself.
III.
The old men walked for live weeks. They wore out their home-made bast shoes and began to buy new ones. They reached the country of the Little-Russians. Heretofore they had been paying for their night"s lodging and for their dinner, but when they came to the Little-Russians, people vied with each other in inviting them to their houses. They let them come in, and fed them, and took no money from them, but even filled their wallets with bread, and now and then with flat cakes. Thus the old men walked without expense some seven hundred versts. They crossed another Government and came to a place where there had been a failure of crops. There they let them into the houses and did not take any money for their night"s lodging, but would not feed them. And they did not give them bread everywhere,--not even for money could the old men get any in some places. The previous year, so the people said, nothing had grown. Those who had been rich were ruined,--they sold everything; those who had lived in comfort came down to nothing; and the poor people either entirely left the country, or turned beggars, or just managed to exist at home. In the winter they lived on chaff and orach.
One night the two old men stayed in a borough. There they bought about fifteen pounds of bread. In the morning they left before daybreak, so that they might walk a good distance before the heat. They marched some ten versts and reached a brook. They sat down, filled their cups with water, softened the bread with it and ate it, and changed their leg-rags. They sat awhile and rested themselves. Elisey took out his snuff-horn. Efim Tarasych shook his head at him.
"Why don"t you throw away that nasty thing?" he asked.
Elisey waved his hand.
"Sin has overpowered me," he said. "What shall I do?"
They got up and marched on. They walked another ten versts. They came to a large village, and pa.s.sed through it. It was quite warm then. Elisey was tired, and wanted to stop and get a drink, but Tarasych would not stop. Tarasych was a better walker, and Elisey had a hard time keeping up with him.
"I should like to get a drink," he said.
"Well, drink! I do not want any."
Elisey stopped.
"Do not wait for me," he said. "I will just run into a hut and get a drink of water. I will catch up with you at once."
"All right," he said. And Efim Tarasych proceeded by himself along the road, while Elisey turned to go into a hut.
Elisey came up to the hut. It was a small clay cabin; the lower part was black, the upper white, and the clay had long ago crumbled off,--evidently it had not been plastered for a long time,--and the roof was open at one end. The entrance was from the yard. Elisey stepped into the yard, and there saw that a lean, beardless man with his shirt stuck in his trousers in Little-Russian fashion was lying near the earth mound. The man had evidently lain down in a cool spot, but now the sun was burning down upon him. He was lying there awake. Elisey called out to him, asking him to give him a drink, but the man made no reply. "He is either sick, or an unkind man," thought Elisey, going up to the door.
Inside he heard a child crying. He knocked with the door-ring. "Good people!" No answer. He struck with his staff against the door.
"Christian people!" No stir. "Servants of the Lord!" No reply. Elisey was on the point of going away, when he heard somebody groaning within.
"I wonder whether some misfortune has happened there to the people. I must see." And Elisey went into the hut.
IV.
Elisey turned the ring,--the door was not locked. He pushed the door open and walked through the vestibule. The door into the living-room was open. On the left there was an oven; straight ahead was the front corner; in the corner stood a shrine and a table; beyond the table was a bench, and on it sat a bareheaded old woman, in nothing but a shirt; her head was leaning on the table, and near her stood a lean little boy, his face as yellow as wax and his belly swollen, and he was pulling the old woman"s sleeve, and crying at the top of his voice and begging for something.
Elisey entered the room. There was a stifling air in the house. He saw a woman lying behind the oven, on the floor. She was lying on her face without looking at anything, and snoring, and now stretching out a leg and again drawing it up. And she tossed from side to side,--and from her came that oppressive smell: evidently she was very sick, and there was n.o.body to take her away. The old woman raised her head, when she saw the man.
"What do you want?" she said, in Little-Russian. "What do you want? We have nothing, my dear man."
Elisey understood what she was saying: he walked over to her.