Ivan stood for a long while motionless, then he sat down silently by the fire and stirred it up. "Cursed--cursed," he murmured to himself. "Who has cursed them. God pardons sinners, they say. Come!" he said gloomily to the little one. "Sit down here. It is all right." "I am frightened." Ivan bent lower over the fire. "The past will not let itself be buried," he thought. "Why must I frighten an innocent creature too?" Then again his memories stung him and he cried in a new outburst of rage, "Who dares curse us. You hard-hearted----Yes, it is all right," he added, trying to quiet the child who was still trembling. "You say you love Grandfather; so come nearer." But Anjuta stared hard at him and did not move. "Look at the nice soup," he said to tempt her and recovered his self-control. "We will take the fowl out by its legs. It shall have a special privilege and lie on the grass till it is cool, else you will burn your mouth." Anjuta approached with visible mistrust. "Why are you afraid, you simpleton? Bring our spoons. Oh, you stupid thing! Have I ever hurt you?" "You looked so dreadful--quite like another man." "Oh, that was only a joke. I wanted to show you what wicked men look like. You always ask me to play 'wolf'; just now I played 'bad man.'" "I am not so frightened at the wolf as at the bad man." "Ah, child, one must sympathize with them. Do you think it is so easy to be bad? The Lord has made it hard enough for them; they must suffer much. It is not really of their own accord that they seize every one by the throat. They say that God hears children's prayers. Pray then, Anjuta: 'O God, have mercy on the wicked men.' The good need no one to pray for them; they are safe anyhow." VIII