"Well then, go afield. Three brothers are ploughing over there. Ask them to tell thee." The orphan went afield. He looked, and saw peasants tilling the soil. "God lend you aid!" says he. "Thanks, good man!" say they. "What dost thou want?" "An old man has sent me here, and told me to ask you which of the two I shall wish for--riches or a good wife?" "Ask our elder brother; he's sitting in that cart there." The orphan went to the cart and saw a little boy--one that seemed about three years old. "Can this be their elder brother?" thought he--however he asked him: "Which dost thou tell me to choose--riches, or a good wife?" "Choose the good wife." So the orphan returned to the old man. "I'm told to ask for the wife," says he. "That's all right!" said the old man, and disappeared from sight. The orphan looked round; by his side stood a beautiful woman. "Hail, good youth!" says she. "I am thy wife; let us go and seek a place where we may live."[57] One of the sins to which the Popular Tale shows itself most hostile is that of avarice. The folk-tales of all lands delight to gird at misers and skinflints, to place them in unpleasant positions, and to gloat over the sufferings which attend their death and embitter their ghostly existence. As a specimen of the manner in which the humor of the Russian peasant has manipulated the stories of this class, most of which probably reached him from the East, we may take the following tale of-- THE MISER.[58] There once was a rich merchant named Marko--a stingier fellow never lived! One day he went out for a stroll. As he went along the road he saw a beggar--an old man, who sat there asking for alms--"Please to give, O ye Orthodox, for Christ's sake!" Marko the Rich passed by. Just at that time there came up behind him a poor moujik, who felt sorry for the beggar, and gave him a copeck. The rich man seemed to feel ashamed, for he stopped and said to the moujik: "Harkye, neighbor, lend me a copeck. I want to give that poor man something, but I've no small change." The moujik gave him one, and asked when he should come for his money. "Come to-morrow," was the reply. Well next day the poor man went to the rich man's to get his copeck. He entered his spacious courtyard and asked: "Is Marko the Rich at home?" "Yes. What do you want?" replied Marko. "I've come for my copeck." "Ah, brother! come again. Really I've no change just now." The poor man made his bow and went away. "I'll come to-morrow," said he. On the morrow he came again, but it was just the same story as before. "I haven't a single copper. If you like to change me a note for a hundred--No? well then come again in a fortnight." At the end of the fortnight the poor man came again, but Marko the Rich saw him from the window, and said to his wife: