she took the herring and thrust its
head in my face. The workmen laugh at me and send me to the tavern
for vodka, and tell me to steal the master's cucumbers for them,
and the master beats me with anything that comes to hand. And there
is nothing to eat. In the morning they give me bread, for dinner,
porridge, and in the evening, bread again; but as for tea, or soup,
the master and mistress gobble it all up themselves. And I am put
to sleep in the passage, and when their wretched brat cries I get
no sleep at all, but have to rock the cradle. Dear grandfather,
show the divine mercy, take me away from here, home to the village.
It's more than I can bear. I bow down to your feet, and will pray
to God for you for ever, take me away from here or I shall die."

Vanka's mouth worked, he rubbed his eyes with his black fist, and
gave a sob.

"I will powder your snuff for you," he went on. "I will pray for
you, and if I do anything you can thrash me like Sidor's goat. And
if you think I've no job, then I will beg the steward for Christ's
sake to let me clean his boots, or I'll go for a shepherd-boy instead
of Fedka. Dear grandfather, it is more than I can bear, it's simply
no life at all. I wanted to run away to the village, but I have no
boots, and I am afraid of the frost. When I grow up big I will take
care of you for this, and not let anyone annoy you, and when you
die I will pray for the rest of your soul, just as for my mammy's."

"Moscow is a big town. It's all gentlemen's houses, and there are
lots of horses, but there are no sheep, and the dogs are not spiteful.
The lads here don't go out with the star, and they don't let anyone
go into the choir, and once I saw in a shop window fishing-hooks
for sale, fitted ready with the line and for all sorts of fish,
awfully good ones, there was even one hook that would hold a
forty-pound sheat-fish. And I have seen shops where there are guns
of all sorts, after the pattern of the master's guns at home, so
that I shouldn't wonder if they are a hundred roubles each. . . .
And in the butchers' shops there are grouse and woodcocks and fish
and hares, but the shopmen don't say where they shoot them."

"Dear grandfather, when they have the Christmas tree at the big
house, get me a gilt walnut, and put it away in the green trunk.
Ask the young lady Olga Ignatyevna, say it's for Vanka."

Vanka gave a tremulous sigh, and again stared at the window. He
remembered how his grandfather al