"However, as the saying is, 'Bear up, Cossack, and thou'll be Maman (chief) some day;' so he struggled on somehow or other, till at last it came to Easter Eve. And then all the village was up like a fair, some lighting candles before the pictures of the saints; some baking cakes and pies, and all sorts of good things; others running about in their best clothes, greeting their friends and relations; and, as soon as it came to midnight, such a kissing and embracing, such a shaking of hands and exchanging of good wishes, as I daresay you've seen many a time in our villages; and nothing to be heard all over the place but 'Christ is risen!' 'He is risen indeed!'[C] "But, as you may think, our poor Stepka (Stephen) had neither new clothes nor rejoicings in _his_ hut--nor lighted candles either, for that matter. The good old priest had left him a few tapers as he passed, for _he_ was always a kind man to the poor; but he had quote forgotten that the poor fellow would have nothing to kindle them with, and so, though the candles were in their places, all ready for lighting, there was not a glimmer of light to be seen! And that troubled poor Stepka more than all his other griefs, for he was a true Russian, and thought it a sore thing that he could not even do honor to the day on which our Lord had arisen from the dead. Besides, he had hoped that the sight of the pretty light would amuse his children, and make them forget their hunger a little; and at the thought of their disappointment his heart was very sore. "However, as the proverb says, 'Sitting still won't make one's corn grow.' So he got up and went out to beg a light from some of his neighbors. But the people of the village (it's a pity to have to say it), were a hard-hearted, cross-grained set, who had not a morsel of compassion for a man in trouble; for they forgot that the tears of the poor are God's thunder-bolts, and that every one of them will burn into a man's soul at last, as good father Arkadi used to tell us. So, when poor Stepka came up to one door after another, saying humbly, 'Give me a light for my Easter candles, good neighbors, for the love of Heaven,' some mocked at him, and others bade him begone, and others asked why he didn't take better care of his own concerns, instead of coming bothering _them_; and one or two laughed, and told him there was a fine bright moon overhead, and all he had to do was to reach up a good long stick and get as much light as he wanted. So, you see, the poor fellow didn't get much by _that_ move; and what with the disappointment, and what with grief at finding himself so shabbily treated by his own neighbors, just because he happened to be poor, he was ready to go out of his wits outright.