Stories

with his wife and two assessors. For a month, the village elder had been collecting twenty-five silver kopecks per household a unit of taxation from the authorities for refreshments. In a word, it was loud and cheerful, though I alone was sad; I was sad both because my intentions had failed and because I was unaccustomed to crowds. At that time, I did not yet touch alcohol, I did not know how to dance in the circle dances, and most of all, I was annoyed that everyone was exchanging glances while looking at me and the daughter of the Porechye priest. I had taken a liking to her father, and he offered, as soon as I finished my course, to marry me to his daughter, promising to yield his position and his household to me, saying that it was time for him to rest. But his daughter, despite being no more than 18 or 19 years old, did not look like a human being, but rather like several irregularly shaped stomachs, so that she resembled the form and image of a fritter. Thus, having been bored in Porechye until evening, I went out to the riverbank—and Levka appeared out of nowhere; he, poor soul, had also come to the festival, not knowing himself why. A small boat sat tied to the bank, rocking; I had not been out on the water for a long time, and I had a desperate desire to go home by river. On the bank, several peasants were lying about in blue caftans and new felt hats with ribbons; having had a drink, they were singing songs at the top of their lungs (fortunately, there were no thin-skinned noblewomen in the village of Porechye).

"Allow me, Orthodox brothers, to take the boat for a ride to Razderishino?" I said to them. "With our pleasure, we know your father, please go ahead." And two of the lads rushed with the greatest readiness to untie the boat.