stout cord was ready. The
Officials took the cord and bound the Muzhik to a tree, so that he
should not run away. Then they laid themselves to sleep.

Thus day after day passed, and the Muzhik became so skilful that he
could actually cook soup for the Officials in his bare hands. The
Officials had become round and well-fed and happy. It rejoiced them
that here they needn't spend any money and that in the meanwhile their
pensions were accumulating in St. Petersburg.

"What is your opinion, your Excellency," one said to the other after
breakfast one day, "is the Story of the Tower of Babel true? Don't you
think it is simply an allegory?"

"By no means, your Excellency, I think it was something that really
happened. What other explanation is there for the existence of so many
different languages on earth?"

"Then the Flood must really have taken place, too?"

"Certainly, else; how would you explain the existence of Antediluvian
animals? Besides, the _Moscow Gazette_ says----"

They made search for the old number of the _Moscow Gazette_, seated
themselves in the shade, and read the whole sheet from beginning to
end. They read of festivities in Moscow, Tula, Penza and Riazan, and
strangely enough felt no discomfort at the description of the
delicacies served.

There is no saying how long this life might have lasted. Finally,
however, it began to bore the Officials. They often thought of their
cooks in St. Petersburg, and even shed a few tears in secret.

"I wonder how it looks in Podyacheskaya Street now, your Excellency,"
one of them said to the other.

"Oh, don't remind me of it, your Excellency. I am pining away with
homesickness."

"It is very nice here. There is really no fault to be found with this
place, but the lamb longs for its mother sheep. And it is a pity, too,
for the beautiful uniforms."

"Yes, indeed, a uniform of the fourth class is no joke. The gold
embroidery alone is enough to make one dizzy."

Now they began to importune the Muzhik to find some way of getting
them back to Podyacheskaya Street, and strange to say, the Muzhik even
knew where Podyacheskaya Street was. He had once drunk beer and mead
there, and as the saying goes, everything had run down his beard,
alas, but nothing into his mouth. The Officials rejoiced and said: "We
are Officials from Podyacheskaya Street."

"And I am one of those men--do you remember?--who sit on a scaffolding
hung by ropes from the roofs and paint the o