Stories

This lackey, who also served as a paramedic and a tailor, was very troubled when he received an order from the manager to sew a caftan for Levka, wondering how to cut a "fool's caftan." No matter how much he thought, it always turned out to be a fairly ordinary caftan; and so, he decided on a desperate measure: to sew onto it a red collar made from the scraps of some old livery. Levka was terribly happy with both the new shirt, and the caftan, and the red collar, although, to tell the truth, there was nothing to be happy about. Until then, the peasant boys had held back somewhat, but when they put the "fool's dress uniform" on Levka, the persecution and mockery doubled. Only the women were on Levka's side: they gave him flatbread, kvass a fermented rye bread beverage, and ale, and sometimes spoke a kind word to him. It is hardly surprising, however, that the wives and young women, who lived under the patriarchal protection a social structure where men held absolute authority over their wives and daughters of their husbands' and fathers' power, sympathized with the innocently persecuted boy. I felt extremely sorry for Levka, but it was difficult to help him. By humiliating him, good people seemed to grow in their own eyes. No one spoke a serious word to him, not even my father, who was not an inherently evil man, though he was full of prejudices and devoid of any indulgence. Even he could not treat Levka without humiliating him and elevating himself. "Well, Levka," he would say to him, "do you love anyone more than this stinking dog?" "I love," Levka would answer, "I love Senka more." "See," my father would...