Tolstoy, Leo - Master & Man

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Master and Man

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Master and Man

by Leo Tolstoy

Trans. Louise and Aylmer Maude

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Master and Man

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Master and Man

It happened in the 'seventies in winter, on the day after St.

Nicholas's Day. There was a fete in the parish and the

innkeeper, Vasili Andreevich Brekhunov, a Second Guild

merchant, being a church elder had to go to church, and had

also to entertain his relatives and friends at home.

But when the last of them had gone he at once began to prepare

to drive over to see a neighbouring proprietor about a grove

which he had been bargaining over for a long time. He was now

in a hurry to start, lest buyers from the town might forestall

him in making a profitable purchase.

The youthful landowner was asking ten thousand rubles for the

grove simply because Vasili Andreevich was offering seven

thousand. Seven thousand was, however, only a third of its

real value. Vasili Andreevich might perhaps have got it down

to his own price, for the woods were in his district and he had

a long-standing agreement with the other village dealers that

no one should run up the price in another's district, but he

had now learnt that some timber-dealers from town meant to bid

for the Goryachkin grove, and he resolved to go at once and get

the matter settled. So as soon as the feast was over, he took

seven hundred rubles from his strong box, added to them two

thousand three hundred rubles of church money he had in his

keeping, so as to make up the sum to three thousand; carefully

counted the notes, and having put them into his pocket-book

made haste to start.

Nikita, the only one of Vasili Andreevich's labourers who was

not drunk that day, ran to harness the horse. Nikita, though

an habitual drunkard, was not drunk that day because since the

last day before the fast, when he had drunk his coat and

leather boots, he had sworn off drink and had kept his vow for

two months, and was still keeping it despite the temptation of

the vodka that had been drunk everywhere during the first two

days of the feast.

Nikita was a peasant of about fifty from a neighbouring

village, 'not a manager' as the peasants said of him, meaning

that he was not the thrifty head of a household but lived most

of his time away from home as a labourer. He was valued

everywhere for his industry, dexterity, and strength at work,

and still more for his kindly and pleasant temper. But he

never settled down anywhere for long because about twice a

year, or even oftener, he had a drinking bout, and then besides

spending all his clothes on drink he became turbulent and

quarrelsome. Vasili Andreevich himself had turned him away

several times, but had afterwards taken him back again--valuing

his honesty, his kindness to animals, and especially his

cheapness. Vasili Andreevich did not pay Nikita the eighty

rubles a year such a man was worth, but only about forty, which

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he gave him haphazard, in small sums, and even that mostly not

in cash but in goods from his own shop and at high prices.

Nikita's wife Martha, who had once been a handsome vigorous

woman, managed the homestead with the help of her son and two

daughters, and did not urge Nikita to live at home: first

because she had been living for some twenty years already with

a cooper, a peasant from another village who lodged in their

house; and secondly because though she managed her husband as

she pleased when he was sober, she feared him like fire when he

was drunk. Once when he had got drunk at home, Nikita,

probably to make up for his submissiveness when sober, broke

open her box, took out her best clothes, snatched up an axe,

and chopped all her undergarments and dresses to bits. All the

wages Nikita earned went to his wife, and he raised no

objection to that. So now, two days before the holiday, Martha

had been twice to see Vasili Andreevich and had got from him

wheat flour, tea, sugar, and a quart of vodka, the lot costing

three rubles, and also five rubles in cash, for which she

thanked him as for a special favour, though he owed Nikita at

least twenty rubles.

'What agreement did we ever draw up with you?' said Vasili

Andreevich to Nikita. 'If you need anything, take it; you will

work it off. I'm not like others to keep you waiting, and

making up accounts and reckoning fines. We deal

straight-forwardly. You serve me and I don't neglect you.'

And when saying this Vasili Andreevich was honestly convinced

that he was Nikita's benefactor, and he knew how to put it so

plausibly that all those who depended on him for their money,

beginning with Nikita, confirmed him in the conviction that he

was their benefactor and did not overreach them.

'Yes, I understand, Vasili Andreevich. You know that I serve

you and take as much pains as I would for my own father. I

understand very well!' Nikita would reply. He was quite aware

that Vasili Andreevich was cheating him, but at the same time

he felt that it was useless to try to clear up his accounts

with him or explain his side of the matter, and that as long as

he had nowhere to go he must accept what he could get.

Now, having heard his master's order to harness, he went as

usual cheerfully and willingly to the shed, stepping briskly

and easily on his rather turned-in feet; took down from a nail

the heavy tasselled leather bridle, and jingling the rings of

the bit went to the closed stable where the horse he was to

harness was standing by himself.

'What, feeling lonely, feeling lonely, little silly?' said

Nikita in answer to the low whinny with which he was greeted by

the good-tempered, medium-sized bay stallion, with a rather

slanting crupper, who stood alone in the shed. 'Now then, now

then, there's time enough. Let me water you first,' he went

on, speaking to the horse just as to someone who understood the

words he was using, and having whisked the dusty, grooved back

of the well-fed young stallion with the skirt of his coat, he

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put a bridle on his handsome head, straightened his ears and

forelock, and having taken off his halter led him out to water.

Picking his way out of the dung-strewn stable, Mukhorty

frisked, and making play with his hind leg pretended that he

meant to kick Nikita, who was running at a trot beside him to

the pump.

'Now then, now then, you rascal!' Nikita called out, well

knowing how carefully Mukhorty threw out his hind leg just to

touch his greasy sheepskin coat but not to strike him--a trick

Nikita much appreciated.

After a drink of the cold water the horse sighed, moving his

strong wet lips, from the hairs of which transparent drops fell

into the trough; then standing still as if in thought, he

suddenly gave a loud snort.

'If you don't want any more, you needn't. But don't go asking

for any later,' said Nikita quite seriously and fully

explaining his conduct to Mukhorty. Then he ran back to the

shed pulling the playful young horse, who wanted to gambol all

over the yard, by the rein.

There was no one else in the yard except a stranger, the cook's

husband, who had come for the holiday.

'Go and ask which sledge is to be harnessed--the wide one or

the small one--there's a good fellow!'

The cook's husband went into the house, which stood on an iron

foundation and was iron-roofed, and soon returned saying that

the little one was to be harnessed. By that time Nikita had

put the collar and brass-studded belly-band on Mukhorty and,

carrying a light, painted shaft-bow in one hand, was leading

the horse with the other up to two sledges that stood in the

shed.

'All right, let it be the little one!' he said, backing the

intelligent horse, which all the time kept pretending to bite

him, into the shafts, and with the aid of the cook's husband he

proceeded to harness. When everything was nearly ready and

only the reins had to be adjusted, Nikita sent the other man to

the shed for some straw and to the barn for a drugget.

'There, that's all right! Now, now, don't bristle up!' said

Nikita, pressing down into the sledge the freshly threshed oat

straw the cook's husband had brought. 'And now let's spread

the sacking like this, and the drugget over it. There, like

that it will be comfortable sitting,' he went on, suiting the

action to the words and tucking the drugget all round over the

straw to make a seat.

'Thank you, dear man. Things always go quicker with two

working at it!' he added. And gathering up the leather reins

fastened together by a brass ring, Nikita took the driver's

seat and started the impatient horse over the frozen manure

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which lay in the yard, towards the gate.

'Uncle Nikita! I say, Uncle, Uncle!' a high-pitched voice

shouted, and a seven-year-old boy in a black sheepskin coat,

new white felt boots, and a warm cap, ran hurriedly out of the

house into the yard. 'Take me with you!' he cried, fastening

up his coat as he ran.

'All right, come along, darling!' said Nikita, and stopping the

sledge he picked up the master's pale thin little son, radiant

with joy, and drove out into the road.

It was past two o'clock and the day was windy, dull, and cold,

with more than twenty degrees Fahrenheit of frost. Half the

sky was hidden by a lowering dark cloud. In the yard it was

quiet, but in the street the wind was felt more keenly. The

snow swept down from a neighbouring shed and whirled about in

the corner near the bath-house.

Hardly had Nikita driven out of the yard and turned the horse's

head to the house, before Vasili Andreevich emerged from the

high porch in front of the house with a cigarette in his mouth

and wearing a cloth-covered sheep-skin coat tightly girdled low

at his waist, and stepped onto the hard-trodden snow which

squeaked under the leather soles of his felt boots, and

stopped. Taking a last whiff of his cigarette he threw it

down, stepped on it, and letting the smoke escape through his

moustache and looking askance at the horse that was coming up,

began to tuck in his sheepskin collar on both sides of his

ruddy face, clean-shaven except for the moustache, so that his

breath should not moisten the collar.

'See now! The young scamp is there already!' he exclaimed when

he saw his little son in the sledge. Vasili Andreevich was

excited by the vodka he had drunk with his visitors, and so he

was even more pleased than usual with everything that was his

and all that he did. The sight of his son, whom he always

thought of as his heir, now gave him great satisfaction. He

looked at him, screwing up his eyes and showing his long teeth.

His wife--pregnant, thin and pale, with her head and shoulders

wrapped in a shawl so that nothing of her face could be seen

but her eyes--stood behind him in the vestibule to see him off.

'Now really, you ought to take Nikita with you,' she said

timidly, stepping out from the doorway.

Vasili Andreevich did not answer. Her words evidently annoyed

him and he frowned angrily and spat.

'You have money on you,' she continued in the same plaintive

voice. 'What if the weather gets worse! Do take him, for

goodness' sake!'

'Why? Don't I know the road that I must needs take a guide?'

exclaimed Vasili Andreevich, uttering every word very

distinctly and compressing his lips unnaturally, as he usually

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did when speaking to buyers and sellers.

'Really you ought to take him. I beg you in God's name!' his

wife repeated, wrapping her shawl more closely round her head.

'There, she sticks to it like a leech! . . . Where am I to

take him?'

'I'm quite ready to go with you, Vasili Andreevich,' said

Nikita cheerfully. 'But they must feed the horses while I am

away,' he added, turning to his master's wife.

'I'll look after them, Nikita dear. I'll tell Simon,' replied

the mistress.

'Well, Vasili Andreevich, am I to come with you?' said Nikita,

awaiting a decision.

'It seems I must humour my old woman. But if you're coming

you'd better put on a warmer cloak,' said Vasili Andreevich,

smiling again as he winked at Nikita's short sheepskin coat,

which was torn under the arms and at the back, was greasy and

out of shape, frayed to a fringe round the skirt, and had

endured many things in its lifetime.

'Hey, dear man, come and hold the horse!' shouted Nikita to the

cook's husband, who was still in the yard.

'No, I will myself, I will myself!' shrieked the little boy,

pulling his hands, red with cold, out of his pockets, and

seizing the cold leather reins.

'Only don't be too long dressing yourself up. Look alive!'

shouted Vasili Andreevich, grinning at Nikita.

'Only a moment, Father, Vasili Andreevich!' replied Nikita, and

running quickly with his inturned toes in his felt boots with

their soles patched with felt, he hurried across the yard and

into the workmen's hut.

'Arinushka! Get my coat down from the stove. I'm going with

the master,' he said, as he ran into the hut and took down his

girdle from the nail on which it hung.

The workmen's cook, who had had a sleep after dinner and was

now getting the samovar ready for her husband, turned

cheerfully to Nikita, and infected by his hurry began to move

as quickly as he did, got down his miserable worn-out cloth

coat from the stove where it was drying, and began hurriedly

shaking it out and smoothing it down.

'There now, you'll have a chance of a holiday with your good

man,' said Nikita, who from kindhearted politeness always said

something to anyone he was alone with.

Then, drawing his worn narrow girdle round him, he drew in his

breath, pulling in his lean stomach still more, and girdled

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himself as tightly as he could over his sheepskin.

'There now,' he said addressing himself no longer to the cook

but the girdle, as he tucked the ends in at the waist, 'now you

won't come undone!' And working his shoulders up and down to

free his arms, he put the coat over his sheepskin, arched his

back more strongly to ease his arms, poked himself under the

armpits, and took down his leather-covered mittens from the

shelf. 'Now we're all right!'

'You ought to wrap your feet up, Nikita. Your boots are very

bad.'

Nikita stopped as if he had suddenly realized this.

'Yes, I ought to. . . . But they'll do like this. It isn't

far!' and he ran out into the yard.

'Won't you be cold, Nikita?' said the mistress as he came up to

the sledge.

'Cold? No, I'm quite warm,' answered Nikita as he pushed some

straw up to the forepart of the sledge so that it should cover

his feet, and stowed away the whip, which the good horse would

not need, at the bottom of the sledge.

Vasili Andreevich, who was wearing two fur-lined coats one over

the other, was already in the sledge, his broad back filling

nearly its whole rounded width, and taking the reins he

immediately touched the horse. Nikita jumped in just as the

sledge started, and seated himself in front on the left side,

with one leg hanging over the edge.

The good stallion took the sledge along at a brisk pace over

the smooth-frozen road through the village, the runners

squeaking slightly as they went.

'Look at him hanging on there! Hand me the whip, Nikita!'

shouted Vasili Andreevich, evidently enjoying the sight of his

'heir,' who standing on the runners was hanging on at the back

of the sledge. 'I'll give it you! Be off to mamma, you dog!'

The boy jumped down. The horse increased his amble and,

suddenly changing foot, broke into a fast trot.

The Crosses, the village where Vasili Andreevich lived,

consisted of six houses. As soon as they had passed the

blacksmith's hut, the last in the village, they realized that

the wind was much stronger than they had thought. The road

could hardly be seen. The tracks left by the sledge-runners

were immediately covered by snow and the road was only

distinguished by the fact that it was higher than the rest of

the ground. There was a swirl of snow over the fields and the

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line where sky and earth met could not be seen. The Telyatin

forest, usually clearly visible, now only loomed up

occasionally and dimly through the driving snowy dust. The

wind came from the left, insistently blowing over to one side

the mane on Mukhorty's sleek neck and carrying aside even his

fluffy tail, which was tied in a simple knot. Nikita's wide

coat-collar, as he sat on the windy side, pressed close to his

cheek and nose.

'This road doesn't give him a chance--it's too snowy,' said

Vasili Andreevich, who prided himself on his good horse. 'I

once drove to Pashutino with him in half an hour.'

'What?' asked Nikita, who could not hear on account of his

collar.

'I say I once went to Pashutino in half an hour,' shouted

Vasili Andreevich.

'It goes without saying that he's a good horse,' replied

Nikita.

They were silent for a while. But Vasili Andreevich wished to

talk.

'Well, did you tell your wife not to give the cooper any

vodka?' he began in the same loud tone, quite convinced that

Nikita must feel flattered to be talking with so clever and

important a person as himself, and he was so pleased with his

jest that it did not enter his head that the remark might be

unpleasant to Nikita.

The wind again prevented Nikita's hearing his master's words.

Vasili Andreevich repeated the jest about the cooper in his

loud, clear voice.

'That's their business, Vasili Andreevich. I don't pry into

their affairs. As long as she doesn't ill-treat our boy--God

be with them.'

'That's so,' said Vasili Andreevich. 'Well, and will you be

buying a horse in spring?' he went on, changing the subject.

'Yes, I can't avoid it,' answered Nikita, turning down his

collar and leaning back towards his master.

The conversation now became interesting to him and he did not

wish to lose a word.

'The lad's growing up. He must begin to plough for himself,

but till now we've always had to hire someone,' he said.

'Well, why not have the lean-cruppered one. I won't charge

much for it,' shouted Vasili Andreevich, feeling animated, and

consequently starting on his favourite occupation--that of

horse-dealing--which absorbed all his mental powers.

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'Or you might let me have fifteen rubles and I'll buy one at

the horse-market,' said Nikita, who knew that the horse Vasili

Andreevich wanted to sell him would be dear at seven rubles,

but that if he took it from him it would be charged at

twenty-five, and then he would be unable to draw any money for

half a year.

'It's a good horse. I think of your interest as of my

own--according to conscience. Brekhunov isn't a man to wrong

anyone. Let the loss be mine. I'm not like others.

Honestly!' he shouted in the voice in which he hypnotized his

customers and dealers. 'It's a real good horse.'

'Quite so!' said Nikita with a sigh, and convinced that there

was nothing more to listen to, he again released his collar,

which immediately covered his ear and face.

They drove on in silence for about half an hour. The wind blew

sharply onto Nikita's side and arm where his sheepskin was

torn.

He huddled up and breathed into the collar which covered his

mouth, and was not wholly cold.

'What do you think--shall we go through Karamyshevo or by the

straight road?' asked Vasili Andreevich.

The road through Karamyshevo was more frequented and was well

marked with a double row of high stakes. The straight road was

nearer but little used and had no stakes, or only poor ones

covered with snow.

Nikita thought awhile.

'Though Karamyshevo is farther, it is better going,' he said.

'But by the straight road, when once we get through the hollow

by the forest, it's good going--sheltered,' said Vasili

Andreevich, who wished to go the nearest way.

'Just as you please,' said Nikita, and again let go of his

collar.

Vasili Andreevich did as he had said, and having gone about

half a verst came to a tall oak stake which had a few dry

leaves still dangling on it, and there he turned to the left.

On turning they faced directly against the wind, and snow was

beginning to fall. Vasili Andreevich, who was driving,

inflated his cheeks, blowing the breath out through his

moustache. Nikita dozed.

So they went on in silence for about ten minutes. Suddenly

Vasili Andreevich began saying something.

'Eh, what?' asked Nikita, opening his eyes.

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MasterandManGetanybookforfreeon:www.Abika.com1MasterandManbyLeoTolstoyTrans.LouiseandAylmerMaudeGetanybookforfreeon:www.Abika.comMasterandManGetanybookforfreeon:www.Abika.com2MasterandManIIthappenedinthe'seventiesinwinter,onthedayafterSt.Nicholas'sDay.Therewasafeteintheparishandtheinnkeeper,VasiliAn...

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