The Horse-Stealers and other stories

opeck piece for a night’s lodging. I swear by God! For five years I was a village schoolmaster and lost my post t

ark blue overcoat, at his muddy, drunken eyes, at the red patches

inued, “but I have not the means for the journey there. Graciously he

as shallow like a shoe, while the other came hig

aid, “and then you told me, not that you were a village schoolmaster

in confusion. “I am a village schoolmaster, and if

lf a student, and even told me what yo

ook of disgust on his face turn

ll hand you over to the police, damn you! You are poor and hung

oor-handle and, like a bird in a sna

ing,” he muttered. “

o exploit the sympathy of the public for village schoolmaster

d prized in himself: kindliness, a feeling heart, sympathy for the unhappy. By his lying, by his treacherous assault upon compassion, the individual had, as it were, defiled the charity whi

the Russian choir, and I was turned out of it for drunkenness. But what can I do? Believe me, in God’s name, I can’t get on without lying—when I tell the truth no on

do?” cried Skvortsov, going close up to him.

that myself, but w

rrupt to the marrow of your bones and fit for nothing but begging and lying! If you do graciously condescend to take work, you must have a job in an office, in the Russian choir, or as a billiard-marke

her late for me to be a shopman, for in trade one has to begin from a boy; no one would take me as a house porter, be

some justification! Would

but the regular woodchop

as you are offered anything you refuse

nly I w

ortsov, in nervous haste; and not without malignant pleasu

“take this gentleman to the sh

d to go and chop wood, not because he was hungry and wanted to earn money, but simply from shame and amour propre, because he had been taken at

appened in the yard. Standing at the window, Skvortsov saw the cook and the beggar come by the back way into the yard and go through the mud

n drinking her coffee,” thought Skvo

and, judging by the expression of her lips, began abusing him. The beggar drew a log of wood towards him irresolutely, set it up between his feet, and diffidently drew the axe across it. The log toppled and fell ov

shamed at the thought that he had forced a pampered, drunke

ought, going from the dining-room into

ed and announced that the

e likes, let him come and chop wood on the first of e

ng up frequently, and work was always found for him: sometimes he would sweep the snow into heaps, or clear up the shed, at another he used to beat

the furniture, walked with hanging head behind the furniture vans, and did not even try to appear busy; he merely shivered with the cold, and was overcome with c

, giving him a rouble. “This is for your work. I see that y

shk

r work, not so rough,

s,

he will give you some copying to do. Work, don’t dr

ath of rectitude, patted Lushkov genially on the

, and from that time forward did

ng for his ticket, he saw beside him a little man with a lambskin collar and a shabby cat’s

in the little man his former woodchopper. “Well,

n a notary’s office now. I

u are my godson. It was I who shoved you into the right way. Do you remember what a scolding I gave you, e

, maybe I should be calling myself a schoolmaster or a student st

ery, ve

u and to your cook, God bless that kind, noble-hearted woman. What you said that day was excellent;

was t

you will burn in hell, poor drunkard! You poor sorrowful creature!’ and she always went on in that style, you know. How often she upset herself, and how many tears she shed over me I can’t tell you. But what affected me most —she chopped the wood for me! Do you know, sir, I never chopped a single log for you

and went off t