"Strange people, to beat him Without any cause!" "And why? If the commune Has told us to do it There must be some reason!" 350 Shouts Klim at the seven. "D'you think that the people Of Tiskov are fools? It isn't long since, mind, That many were flogged there, One man in each ten. Ah, Shutov, you rendered A dastardly service, Your duties are evil, You damnable wretch! 360 And who deserves beating As richly as Shutov? Not we alone beat him: From Tiskov, you know, Fourteen villages lie On the banks of the Volga; I warrant through each He's been driven with blows." The seven are silent. They're longing to get 370 At the root of the matter. But even the Elder Is now growing angry. It's daylight. The women Are bringing their husbands Some breakfast, of rye-cakes And--goose! (For a peasant Had driven some geese Through the village to market, And three were grown weary, 380 And had to be carried.) "See here, will you sell them? They'll die ere you get there." And so, for a trifle, The geese had been bought. We've often been told How the peasant loves drinking; Not many there are, though, Who know how he eats. He's greedier far 390 For his food than for vodka, So one man to-day (A teetotaller mason) Gets perfectly drunk On his breakfast of goose! A shout! "Who is coming? Who's this?" Here's another Excuse for rejoicing And noise! There's a hay-cart With hay, now approaching, 400 And high on its summit A soldier is sitting. He's known to the peasants For twenty versts round. And, cosy beside him, Justinutchka sits (His niece, and an orphan, His prop in old age). He now earns his living By means of his peep-show, 410 Where, plainly discerned, Are the Kremlin and Moscow, While music plays too. The instrument once Had gone wrong, and the soldier, No capital owning, Bought three metal spoons, Which he beat to make music; But the words that he knew Did not suit the new music, 420 And folk did not laugh. The soldier was sly, though: He made some new words up That went with the music. They hail him with rapture! "Good-health to you, Grandad! Jump down, drink some vodka, And give us some music." "It's true I got _up_ here, But how to get-down?" 430 "You're going, I see, To the town for your pension, But look what has happened: It's burnt to the ground." "Burnt down? Yes, and rightly! What then? Then I'll go To St. Petersburg for it; For all my old comrades Are there with their pensions, They'll show me the way." 440 "You'll go by the train, then?"