Grisha, the nephew of Jacob, a youth becomes, Falls at the feet of his lord: "I would wed." "Who will the bride be?" "Her name is Arisha, sir." Thunders the Barin, "You'd better be dead!" Looking at her he had often bethought himself, "Oh, for my legs! Would the Lord but relent!" 159 So, though the uncle entreated his clemency, Grisha to serve in the army he sent. Cut to the heart was the slave by this tyranny, Jacob the Faithful went mad for a spell: Drank like a fish, and his lord was disconsolate, No one could please him: "You fools, go to Hell!" Hate in each bosom since long has been festering: Now for revenge! Now the Barin must pay, Roughly they deal with his whims and infirmities, Two quite unbearable weeks pass away. Then the most faithful of servants appeared again, 170 Straight at the feet of his master he fell, Pity has softened his heart to the legless one, Who can look after the Barin so well? "Barin, recall not your pitiless cruelty, While I am living my cross I'll embrace." Peacefully now lies the lord in his dressing-gown, Jacob, once more, is restored to his place. Brother again the Pomyeshchick has christened him. "Why do you wince, little Jacob?" says he. "Barin, there's something that stings ... in my memory...." 180 Now they thread mushrooms, play cards, and drink tea, Then they make brandy from cherries and raspberries, Next for a drive to the sister's they start, See how the Barin lies smoking contentedly, Green leaves and sunshine have gladdened his heart. Jacob is gloomy, converses unwillingly, Trembling his fingers, the reins are hung slack, "Spirits unholy!" he murmurs unceasingly, "Leave me! Begone!" (But again they attack.) Just on the right lies a deep, wooded precipice, Known in those parts as "The Devil's Abyss," 191 Jacob turns into the wood by the side of it. Queries his lord, "What's the meaning of this?" Jacob replies not. The path here is difficult, Branches and ruts make their steps very slow; Rustling of trees is heard. Spring waters noisily Cast themselves into the hollow below. Then there's a halt,--not a step can the horses move: Straight in their path stand the pines like a wall; Jacob gets down, and, the horses unharnessing, Takes of the Barin no notice at all. 201