en your heart for the future with mercy and loving kindness, and
then come to make complaints against your own children; bone of your
bone. That's what we must take this emblem to mean," the stout monk
from the monastery, who had had no tea given to him, said softly but
self-complacently, taking upon himself the role of interpreter in an
access of wounded vanity.

"What are you saying, father?" cried the widow, suddenly infuriated.
"Why, they dragged me into the fire with a rope round me when the
Verhishins' house was burnt, and they locked up a dead cat in my chest.
They are ready to do any villainy...."

"Away with her! Away with her!" Semyon Yakovlevitch said suddenly,
waving his hands.

The verger and the boy dashed through the partition. The verger took the
widow by the arm, and without resisting she trailed to the door, keeping
her eyes fixed on the loaves of sugar that had been bestowed on her,
which the boy dragged after her.

"One to be taken away. Take it away," Semyon Yakovlevitch commanded to
the servant like a workman, who remained with him. The latter rushed
after the retreating woman, and the three servants returned somewhat
later bringing back one loaf of sugar which had been presented to the
widow and now taken away from her. She carried off three, however.

"Semyon Yakovlevitch," said a voice at the door. "I dreamt of a bird, a
jackdaw; it flew out of the water and flew into the fire. What does the
dream mean?"

"Frost," Semyon Yakovlevitch pronounced.

"Semyon Yakovlevitch, why don't you answer me all this time? I've been
interested in you ever so long," the lady of our party began again.

"Ask him!" said Semyon Yakovlevitch, not heeding her, but pointing to
the kneeling gentleman.

The monk from the monastery to whom the order was given moved sedately
to the kneeling figure.

"How have you sinned? And was not some command laid upon you?"

"Not to fight; not to give the rein to my hands," answered the kneeling
gentleman hoarsely.

"Have you obeyed?" asked the monk.

"I cannot obey. My own strength gets the better of me."

"Away with him, away with him! With a broom, with a broom!" cried Semyon
Yakovlevitch, waving his hands. The gentleman rushed out of the room
without waiting for this penalty.

"He's left a gold piece where he knelt," observed the monk, picking up a
half-imperial.

"For him!" said the saint, pointing to the rich merchant. The latter
dared not refuse it, and took