Russian Fairy Tales: A Choice Collection of Muscovite Folk-lore — John Shaqi
Russian Fairy Tales: A Choice Collection of Muscovite Folk-lore
General
Russian Fairy Tales: A Choice Collection of Muscovite Folk-lore
Folklore -- Russia
"Harkye, wife! I'll strip myself naked and lie down under
the holy pictures. Cover me up with a cloth, and sit down and
cry, just as you would over a corpse. When the moujik comes
for his money, tell him I died this morning."
Well the wife did everything exactly as her husband directed
her. While she was sitting there drowned in bitter tears, the
moujik came into the room.
"What do you want?" says she.
"The money Marko the Rich owes me," answers the poor
man.
"Ah, moujik, Marko the Rich has wished us farewell;[59] he's
only just dead."
"The kingdom of heaven be his! If you'll allow me, mistress,
in return for my copeck I'll do him a last service--just
give his mortal remains a wash."
So saying he laid hold of a pot full of boiling water and began
pouring its scalding contents over Marko the Rich. Marko, his
brows knit, his legs contorted, was scarcely able to hold out.[60]
"Writhe away or not as you please," thought the poor man,
"but pay me my copeck!"
When he had washed the body, and laid it out properly, he
said:
"Now then, mistress, buy a coffin and have it taken into the
church; I'll go and read psalms over it."
So Marko the Rich was put in a coffin and taken into the
church, and the moujik began reading psalms over him. The
darkness of night came on. All of a sudden a window opened,
and a party of robbers crept through it into the church. The
moujik hid himself behind the altar. As soon as the robbers had
come in they began dividing their booty, and after everything
else was shared there remained over and above a golden sabre--each
one laid hold of it for himself, no one would give up his
claim to it. Out jumped the poor man, crying:
"What's the good of disputing that way? Let the sabre
belong to him who will cut this corpse's head off!"
Up jumped Marko the Rich like a madman. The robbers
were frightened out of their wits, flung away their spoil and
scampered off.
"Here, Moujik," says Marko, "let's divide the money."
They divided it equally between them: each of the shares
was a large one.
"But how about the copeck?" asks the poor man.
"Ah, brother!" replies Marko, "surely you can see I've got
no change!"
And so Marko the Rich never paid the copeck after all.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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