“Certainly,” said the steward, “the dam is broken down, and must be mended at once. But it’s very dangerous work, for the workman may get carried away by the water, and besides, it’s just under the mill-wheel. It will do nicely for this peasant; any peasant will jump into the fire, let alone the water, for a kopeck.” “Very well,” said the gentleman. The steward went to the peasant and said— “Mend the mill-dam, and just build a cottage for me, because I took your part and got you the job. You shall have a kopeck. Only mind you do the cottage first, for we are in the Almighty’s hands, and you may get drowned.” “All right,” said the peasant. He took an axe, cut down some trees, dragged them to the steward’s yard and built a cottage. The steward came and looked—a capital cottage. “Very good,” he said, and gave the peasant a glass to smell, out of which he had drunk vodka two days before. “Thank you,” said the peasant. “That was very kind.” Then he went to mend the dam. The water was seething like a boiling pot. He got the job done at last, but the water swept him down right under the mill-wheel. “He’s lost!” thought the steward; “the kopeck he has earned remains with me.” But the peasant dived, and so got out of the water safe and sound, and the steward had to give him his kopeck. The peasant walked home with the kopeck, thinking— “God be thanked! Now the barine won’t demand the tax for a week. I shall have time to do some work for myself, and to rest enough for the whole year as well.” [Illustration: “‘VERY GOOD,’ HE SAID, AND GAVE THE PEASANT A GLASS TO SMELL, OUT OF WHICH HE HAD DRUNK VODKA TWO DAYS BEFORE.” ] He went straight to the manor. All the court was strewn with juniper—every one was in black clothes, and there were two candles in the window. “What has happened?” asked the peasant. “The barine is dead,” they told him. The peasant burst into tears. “God rest his soul!” he thought; “he was a kind barine.” He asked for the barinya to take her the kopeck, but she could not see him. She was broken-hearted about the barine, and a young officer was consoling her in her grief. So she would let no one in. The peasant went home, dug a pit in the cellar, and put his kopeck into it, just so that it should not get lost. Some days afterwards, as he was going home, he heard some one sobbing. He looked round and saw a little girl sitting by the road and crying bitterly. “What are you crying for, my lass?” he asked. The child told him that her brother was very ill, so that a priest had to be called, to dip his finger in oil and rub it on the sick man’s lips. The priest would not come for nothing, and they could not pay him. The peasant laid his great rough hand on the child’s head, ruffled her hair and said— “Don’t cry, silly child! I’ll pay the priest.”