Fables for Children, Stories for Children, Natural Science Stories Part 54

He entered the room. Fire was burning within. The young woman was sitting in the corner behind the spinning-wheel; the old woman was getting supper ready; the eldest son was making laces for the bast shoes, the second was at the table with a book, and Taraska was getting ready to go to the night pasture.

In the house everything was good and merry, if it were not for that curse,--a bad neighbour.

Ivan was angry when he entered the room. He knocked the cat down from the bench and scolded the women because the vat was not in the right place. Ivan felt out of humour. He sat down, frowning, and began to mend the collar. He could not forget Gavrilo's words, with which he had threatened him in court, and how he had said about somebody, speaking in a hoa.r.s.e voice: "He ought to be killed."

The old woman got Taraska something to eat. When he was through with his supper, he put on a fur coat and a caftan, girded himself, took a piece of bread, and went out to the horses. The eldest brother wanted to see him off, but Ivan himself got up and went out on the porch. It was pitch-dark outside, the sky was clouded, and a wind had risen. Ivan stepped down from the porch, helped his little son to get on a horse, frightened a colt behind him, and stood looking and listening while Taraska rode down the village, where he met other children, and until they all rode out of hearing. Ivan stood and stood at the gate, and could not get Gavrilo's words out of his head, "Something of yours may burn worse."

"He will not consider himself," thought Ivan. "It is dry, and a wind is blowing. He will enter somewhere from behind, the scoundrel, and will set the house on fire, and he will go free. If I could catch him, he would not get away from me."

This thought troubled Ivan so much that he did not go back to the porch, but walked straight into the street and through the gate, around the corner of the house.

"I will examine the yard,--who knows?"

And Ivan walked softly down along the gate. He had just turned around the corner and looked up the fence, when it seemed to him that something stirred at the other end, as though it got up and sat down again. Ivan stopped and stood still,--he listened and looked: everything was quiet, only the wind rustled the leaves in the willow-tree and crackled through the straw. It was pitch-dark, but his eyes got used to the darkness: Ivan could see the whole corner and the plough and the penthouse. He stood and looked, but there was no one there.

"It must have only seemed so to me," thought Ivan, "but I will, nevertheless, go and see," and he stole up along the shed. Ivan stepped softly in his bast shoes, so that he did not hear his own steps. He came to the corner, when, behold, something flashed by near the plough, and disappeared again. Ivan felt as though something hit him in the heart, and he stopped. As he stopped he could see something flas.h.i.+ng up, and he could see clearly some one in a cap squatting down with his back toward him, and setting fire to a bunch of straw in his hands. He stood stock-still.

"Now," he thought, "he will not get away from me. I will catch him on the spot."

Before Ivan had walked two lengths of the fence it grew quite bright, and no longer in the former place, nor was it a small fire, but the flame licked up in the straw of the penthouse and was going toward the roof, and there stood Gavrilo so that the whole of him could be seen.

As a hawk swoops down on a lark, so Ivan rushed up against Gavrilo the Lame.

"I will twist him up," he thought, "and he will not get away from me."

But Gavrilo the Lame evidently heard his steps and ran along the shed with as much speed as a hare.

"You will not get away," shouted Ivan, swooping down on him.

He wanted to grab him by the collar, but Gavrilo got away from him, and Ivan caught him by the skirt of his coat. The skirt tore off, and Ivan fell down.

Ivan jumped up.

"Help! Hold him!" and again he ran.

As he was getting up, Gavrilo was already near his yard, but Ivan caught up with him. He was just going to take hold of him, when something stunned him, as though a stone had come down on his head. Gavrilo had picked up an oak post near his house and hit Ivan with all his might on the head, when he ran up to him.

Ivan staggered, sparks flew from his eyes, then all grew dark, and he fell down. When he came to his senses, Gavrilo was gone. It was as light as day, and from his yard came a sound as though an engine were working, and it roared and crackled there. Ivan turned around and saw that his back shed was all on fire and the side shed was beginning to burn; the fire, and the smoke, and the burning straw were being carried toward the house.

"What is this? Friend!" cried Ivan. He raised his hands and brought them down on his calves. "If I could only pull it out from the penthouse, and put it out! What is this? Friends!" he repeated. He wanted to shout, but he nearly strangled,--he had no voice. He wanted to run, but his feet would not move,--they tripped each other up. He tried to walk slowly, but he staggered, and he nearly strangled. He stood still again and drew breath, and started to walk. Before he came to the shed and reached the fire, the side shed was all on fire, and he could not get into the yard.

People came running up, but nothing could be done. The neighbours dragged their own things out of their houses, and drove the cattle out.

After Ivan's house, Gavrilo's caught fire; a wind rose and carried the fire across the street. Half the village burned down.

All they saved from Ivan's house was the old man, who was pulled out, and everybody jumped out in just what they had on. Everything else was burned, except the horses in the pasture: the cattle were burned, the chickens on their roosts, the carts, the ploughs, the harrows, the women's chests, the grain in the granary,--everything was burned.

Gavrilo's cattle were saved, and they dragged a few things out of his house.

It burned for a long time, all night long. Ivan stood near his yard, and kept looking at it, and saying:

"What is this? Friends! If I could just pull it out and put it out!"

But when the ceiling in the hut fell down, he jumped into the hottest place, took hold of a brand, and wanted to pull it out. The women saw him and began to call him back, but he pulled out one log and started for another: he staggered and fell on the fire. Then his son rushed after him and dragged him out. Ivan had his hair and beard singed and his garments burnt and his hands blistered, but he did not feel anything.

"His sorrow has bereft him of his senses," people said.

The fire died down, but Ivan was still standing there, and saying:

"Friends, what is this? If I could only pull it out."

In the morning the elder sent his son to Ivan.

"Uncle Ivan, your father is dying: he has sent for you, to bid you good-bye."

Ivan had forgotten about his father, and did not understand what they were saying to him.

"What father?" he said. "Send for whom?"

"He has sent for you, to bid you good-bye. He is dying in our house.

Come, Uncle Ivan!" said the elder's son, pulling him by his arm.

Ivan followed the elder's son.

When the old man, was carried out, burning straw fell on him and scorched him. He was taken to the elder's house in a distant part of the village. This part did not burn.

When Ivan came to his father, only the elder's wife was there, and the children on the oven. The rest were all at the fire. The old man was lying on a bench, with a taper in his hand, and looking toward the door.

When his son entered, he stirred a little. The old woman went up to him and said that his son had come. He told her to have him come closer to him. Ivan went up, and then the old man said:

"What have I told you, Ivan? Who has burned the village?"

"He, father," said Ivan, "he,--I caught him at it. He put the fire to the roof while I was standing near. If I could only have caught the burning bunch of straw and put it out, there would not have been anything."

"Ivan," said the old man, "my death has come, and you, too, will die.

Whose sin is it?"

Ivan stared at his father and kept silence; he could not say a word.

"Speak before G.o.d: whose sin is it? What have I told you?"

It was only then that Ivan came to his senses, and understood everything. And he snuffled, and said:

"Mine, father." And he knelt before his father, and wept, and said: "Forgive me, father! I am guilty toward you and toward G.o.d."

The old man moved his hands, took the taper in his left hand, and was moving his right hand toward his brow, to make the sign of the cross, but he did not get it so far, and he stopped.

"Glory be to thee, O Lord! Glory be to thee, O Lord!" he said, and his eyes were again turned toward his son.

"Ivan! Oh, Ivan!"

"What is it, father?"