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A short story by William Ralston Shedden-Ralston |
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Woe |
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Title: Woe Author: William Ralston Shedden-Ralston [More Titles by Shedden-Ralston] Translator: Ralston, William Ralston Shedden, 1828-1889
In a certain village there lived two peasants, two brothers: one of them poor, the other rich. The rich one went away to live in a town, built himself a large house, and enrolled himself among the traders. Meanwhile the poor man sometimes had not so much as a morsel of bread, and his children--each one smaller than the other--were crying and begging for food. From morning till night the peasant would struggle, like a fish trying to break through ice, but nothing came of it all. At last one day he said to his wife: "Suppose I go to town, and ask my brother whether he won't do something to help us." So he went to the rich man and said: "Ah, brother mine! do help me a bit in my trouble. My wife and children are without bread. They have to go whole days without eating." "Work for me this week, then I'll help you," said his brother. What was there to be done! The poor man betook himself to work, swept out the yard, cleaned the horses, fetched water, chopped firewood. At the end of the week the rich man gave him a loaf of bread, and says: "There's for your work!" "Thank you all the same," dolefully said the poor man, making his bow and preparing to go home. "Stop a bit! come and dine with me to-morrow, and bring your wife, too: to-morrow is my name-day, you know." "Ah, brother! how can I? you know very well you'll be having merchants coming to you in boots and pelisses, but I have to go about in bast shoes and a miserable old grey caftan." "No matter, come! there will be room even for you." "Very well, brother! I'll come." The poor man returned home, gave his wife the loaf, and said: "Listen, wife! we're invited to a party to-morrow." "What do you mean by a party? who's invited us?" "My brother! he keeps his name-day to-morrow." "Well, well! let's go." Next day they got up and went to the town, came to the rich man's house, offered him their congratulations, and sat down on a bench. A number of the name-day guests were already seated at table. All of these the host feasted gloriously, but he forgot even so much as to think of his poor brother and his wife; not a thing did he offer them; they had to sit and merely look on at the others eating and drinking. The dinner came to an end; the guests rose from table, and expressed their thanks to their host and hostess; and the poor man did likewise, got up from his bench, and bowed down to his girdle before his brother. The guests drove off homewards, full of drink and merriment, shouting, singing songs. But the poor man had to walk back empty. "Suppose we sing a song, too," he says to his wife. "What a fool you are!" says she, "people sing because they've made a good meal and had lots to drink; but why ever should you dream of singing?" "Well, at all events, I've been at my brother's name-day party. I'm ashamed of trudging along without singing. If I sing, everybody will think I've been feasted like the rest." "Sing away, then, if you like; but I won't!" The peasant began a song. Presently he heard a voice joining in it. So he stopped, and asked his wife: "Is it you that's helping me to sing with that thin little voice?" "What are you thinking about! I never even dreamt of such a thing." "Who is it, then?" "I don't know," said the woman. "But now, sing away, and I'll listen." He began his song again. There was only one person singing, yet two voices could be heard. So he stopped, and asked: "Woe, is that you that's helping me to sing?" "Yes, master," answered Woe: "it's I that's helping you." "Well then, Woe! let's all go on together." "Very good, master! I'll never depart from you now." When the peasant got home, Woe bid him to the kabak or pot-house. "I've no money," says the man. "Out upon you, moujik! What do you want money for? why you've got on a sheep-skin jacket. What's the good of that? It will soon be summer; anyhow you won't be wanting to wear it. Off with the jacket, and to the pot-house we'll go." So the peasant went with Woe into the pot-house, and they drank the sheep-skin away. The next day Woe began groaning--its head ached from yesterday's drinking--and again bade the master of the house have a drink. "I've no money," said the peasant. "What do we want money for? Take the cart and the sledge; we've plenty without them." There was nothing to be done; the peasant could not shake himself free from Woe. So he took the cart and the sledge, dragged them to the pot-house, and there he and Woe drank them away. Next morning Woe began groaning more than ever, and invited the master of the house to go and drink off the effects of the debauch. This time the peasant drank away his plough and his harrow. A month hadn't passed before he had got rid of everything he possessed. Even his very cottage he pledged to a neighbor, and the money he got that way he took to the pot-house. Yet another time did Woe come close beside him and say: "Let us go, let us go to the pot-house!" "No, no, Woe! it's all very well, but there's nothing more to be squeezed out." "How can you say that? Your wife has got two petticoats: leave her one, but the other we must turn into drink." The peasant took the petticoat, drank it away, and said to himself: "We're cleaned out at last, my wife as well as myself. Not a stick nor a stone is left!" Next morning Woe saw, on waking, that there was nothing more to be got out of the peasant, so it said: "Master!" "Well, Woe?" "Why, look here. Go to your neighbor, and ask him to lend you a cart and a pair of oxen." The peasant went to the neighbor's. "Be so good as to lend me a cart and a pair of oxen for a short time," says he. "I'll do a week's work for you in return." "But what do you want them for?" "To go to the forest for firewood." "Well then, take them; only don't overburthen them." "How could you think of such a thing, kind friend!" So he brought the pair of oxen, and Woe got into the cart with him, and away he drove into the open plain. "Master!" asks Woe, "do you know the big stone on this plain?" "Of course I do." "Well then if you know it, drive straight up to it." They came to the place where it was, stopped, and got out of the cart. Woe told the peasant to lift the stone; the peasant lifted it, Woe helping him. Well, when they had lifted it there was a pit underneath chock full of gold. "Now then, what are you staring at!" said Woe to the peasant, "be quick and pitch it into the cart." The peasant set to work and filled the cart with gold; cleared the pit to the very last ducat. When he saw there was nothing more left: "Just give a look, Woe," he said; "isn't there some money left in there?" "Where?" said Woe, bending down; "I can't see a thing." "Why there; something is shining in yon corner!" "No, I can't see anything," said Woe. "Get into the pit; you'll see it then." Woe jumped in: no sooner had it got there than the peasant closed the mouth of the pit with the stone. "Things will be much better like that," said the peasant: "if I were to take you home with me, O Woeful Woe, sooner or later you'd be sure to drink away all this money, too!" The peasant got home, shovelled the money into his cellar, took the oxen back to his neighbor, and set about considering how he should manage. It ended in his buying a wood, building a large homestead, and becoming twice as rich as his brother. After a time he went into the town to invite his brother and sister-in-law to spend his name-day with him. "What an idea!" said his rich brother: "you haven't a thing to eat, and yet you ask people to spend your name-day with you!" "Well, there was a time when I had nothing to eat, but now, thank God! I've as much as you. If you come, you'll see for yourself." "So be it! I'll come," said his brother. Next day the rich brother and his wife got ready, and went to the name-day party. They could see that the former beggar had got a new house, a lofty one, such as few merchants had! And the moujik treated them hospitably, regaled them with all sorts of dishes, gave them all sorts of meads and spirits to drink. At length the rich man asked his brother: "Do tell me by what good luck have you grown rich?" The peasant made a clean breast of everything--how Woe the Woeful had attached itself to him, how he and Woe had drunk away all that he had, to the very last thread, so that the only thing that was left him was the soul in his body. How Woe showed him a treasure in the open field, how he took that treasure, and freed himself from Woe into the bargain. The rich man became envious. "Suppose I go to the open field," thinks he, "and lift up the stone and let Woe out. Of a surety it will utterly destroy my brother, and then he will no longer brag of his riches before me!" So he sent his wife home, but he himself hastened into the plain. When he came to the big stone, he pushed it aside, and knelt down to see what was under it. Before he had managed to get his head down low enough, Woe had already leapt out and seated itself on his shoulders. "Ha!" it cried, "you wanted to starve me to death in here! No, no! Now will I never on any account depart from you." "Only hear me, Woe!" said the merchant: "it wasn't I at all who put you under the stone." "Who was it then, if it wasn't you?" "It was my brother put you there, but I came on purpose to let you out." "No, no! that's a lie. You tricked me once; you shan't trick me a second time!" Woe gripped the rich merchant tight by the neck; the man had to carry it home, and there everything began to go wrong with him. From the very first day Woe began again to play its usual part, every day it called on the merchant to renew his drinking.[234] Many were the valuables which went in the pot-house. "Impossible to go on living like this!" says the merchant to himself. "Surely I've made sport enough for Woe! It's time to get rid of it--but how?" He thought and thought, and hit on an idea. Going into the large yard, he cut two oaken wedges, took a new wheel, and drove a wedge firmly into one end of its axle-box. Then he went to where Woe was: "Hallo, Woe! why are you always idly sprawling there?" "Why, what is there left for me to do?" "What is there to do! let's go into the yard and play at hide-and-seek." Woe liked the idea. Out they went into the yard. First the merchant hid himself; Woe found him immediately. Then it was Woe's turn to hide. "Now then," says Woe, "you won't find me in a hurry! There isn't a chink I can't get into!" "Get along with you!" answered the merchant. "Why you couldn't creep into that wheel there, and yet you talk about chinks!" "I can't creep into that wheel? See if I don't go clean out of sight in it!" Woe slipped into the wheel; the merchant caught up the oaken wedge, and drove it into the axle-box from the other side. Then he seized the wheel and flung it, with Woe in it, into the river. Woe was drowned, and the merchant began to live again as he had been wont to do of old.
[233] Afanasief, v. No. 34. From the Novgorod Government. [234] Opokhmyelit'sya: "to drink off the effects of his debauch." [The end] GO TO TOP OF SCREEN |