And around the German is a mighty multitude of people from far-off lands, both Jews and Jesuits, and maidens and matrons and aged women, and an evil folk of thieves and robbers, and they lay coins of gold and silver before the German, and the German gathereth up the coins and turneth his wheel, ceasing not. And in the doorway is the sound of trumpets and the beating of drums and the playing of instruments, to tempt the people that they fall away from righteousness. [Illustration: “THEY LAY COINS OF GOLD AND SILVER BEFORE THE GERMAN.” ] THE VILLAGE SCHOOL MASTER. [Illustration] BY N. USPÈNSKY. An elderly gentleman, sitting on the verandah of his house, called to a workman who was passing with a water-cart— “Hi! Prokòfyi! Prokòfyi!” The cart stopped. “Are you deaf?” “The wheels makes such a noise, Grigòryi Naòmich; one can’t hear anything. They wants greasing.” “Oh, they’re all right. What have you got there? water?” “Yes, sir.” “From the pond?” “Yes, sir.” “All right,” said the master after a moment’s pause, “you can go.” A soldier came up to the verandah. “Wish your honour good-day!” “Who are you?” “From Verkhogliàdov in the Merkoùlovsky district; perhaps you know it?—by the river Kostra....” “What d’ you want?” “I’m looking for a place, sir, as doorkeeper, or bailiff.” “What have you been up till now?” “Well, when I served in the army, I used to be postillion for the commander; then, in Mouràvki, I was cook for the examining magistrate. I’m a Jack-of-all trades, your honour—gardener, whipper-in, cook—anything you like!” “Can you break stones?” “Why, no, your honour, I can’t do that kind of work!” “Why?” “Well, you see, the army life breaks a chap down so; I was in a line regiment, not in the guards, and a man never gets over that.” “Oh, you’re healthy enough, I can see that, and yet you want to do such little fiddling work! What sort of career is it to be a bailiff or a whipper-in?”... “Surely, your honour, it’s better than stone-breaking!” “I think stone-breaking a very fine occupation.... H’m.... Have you recommendations from your former employers?” “No, your honour.” “I can’t take you without a character, my good man.” “Yes, sir, you’re quite right, sir.” “Perhaps you’re some good-for-nothing fellow—a thief or drunkard for all I know....” “Just so, your honour.” “You must bring me a character.” “Yes, sir; good-morning, sir.” The soldier went away. Presently the steward came up to his master and announced— “If you please, sir, a strange gentleman came while your honour was asleep; he calls himself a village schoolmaster.” “Where is he now?” “Sitting in the office.” “Let him in.” There came on to the verandah a sunburnt man of about forty, in a nankeen coat and high boots. The master of the house offered him a chair. “Who are you?”