# Life Is Worth Living and Other Stories/Two Old Men

TWO OLD MEN.
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ELISSEY AS THE "GOOD SAMARITAN."
TWO OLD MEN.
St. John iv., 19–23.
CHAPTER I.
Two aged men were preparing themselves for a long journey to old Jerusalem, where they intended paying their devotions to God.
One of the devotees was a rich peasant named Euthymus Tarassitch Sheveloff, and his companion's name was Elissey Bodroff.
Euthymus was a man of sedate demeanor and exemplary habits. He never indulged in strong drink, and he neither smoked nor used snuff. Of the use of profane language he was never known to be guilty, for he was a conscientious, serious man. He had served two terms as starosta (elder of a village), and at the expiration of that time his accounts were found correct to a kopeck. ​Euthymus had a large family—two sons and one grandson, who, with their wives and children, lived in one house with their patriarch. This venerable moujik had always been blessed with good health, for he walked erect and with a firm step. He had a long, flowing beard, and no traces of gray were to be seen in his hair till he had passed his sixtieth year.
Elissey also was quite old. He was neither rich nor poor. At one time he had worked as a carpenter, but as old age crept upon him he began to remain at home and devote his time to the raising of bees. One of his sons labored on the outskirts of the village, while the other worked with his father. Elissey was a jolly, good-natured old fellow, who would not refuse a drink when it was offered to him. He also indulged liberally in the use of snuff. While Elissey was fond of singing and other amusements, he was generally regarded as a peaceful and worthy man who lived on friendly terms with his household and his neighbors. He was ​of medium size and dark complexion, and had a thick, curly beard. His head was bald, like that of his patron saint Elisha.
It was now a long time since these two old friends had made a vow to visit the Holy Land together. The delay had been caused by Euthymus, who always declared that important business would prevent him from keeping his promise. He would have to attend the marriage of a grandson, or he was awaiting the return of his youngest son from military service, or he had just begun to build a new house.
On a certain holy-day the two old men chanced to meet, and, after seating themselves on a log, Elissey remarked to his companion:
"Well, my koum [godfather], when are we to fulfil our vow?"
"It is necessary to wait awhile longer," said Euthymus, with a frown; "this has been a hard year for me. I started to build a new house, thinking it would not cost more than a hundred rubles; but now I have expended nearly the ​third hundred, and it is not yet finished. I fear we shall have to postpone our journey till next summer. If it is God's will that we shall live till then, we shall surely go."
"According to my view of the matter," said Elissey, "I can see no reason for longer delay. It is now the beginning of spring, which is the best time to start."
"That is true," remarked Euthymus; "but as the work on my building is now in progress how am I to leave it?"
"Oh!" said Elissey, impatiently, "you need not worry over that; for you can leave some one to look after it in your absence. Why can't your son attend to the business?"
"How could he do it? He is full-grown, to be sure; but he is unreliable. He drinks."
"Well, my old friend, we shall die, and they will have to live without us. It is necessary for your son to learn something."
"That is also true; but the work needs my oversight."
​"Oh, my dear man, you will never be able to finish all of your business. Some time ago the women of my household were washing and preparing themselves for a holy-day. My oldest daughter-in-law (a wise woman) remarked: 'I am thankful that the holy-day did not wait till we had finished our work; otherwise it never would have come. Woman's labor never ends, and we shall rest from it only when we die.'"
Euthymus became lost in thought, and after a few moments he continued:
"You cannot undertake this journey with empty hands. It will require a full hundred rubles, and I have already spent too much money on my new house."
Elissey laughed and said:
"Do not sin, my godfather. You have ten times as much as I have, and yet you worry over the expense of our holy pilgrimage. If you will only tell me when we. are to start, although I have no money now, I will certainly procure it in time."
​Euthymus smiled sarcastically as he exclaimed:
"See here! What a rich man you have become! Where, pray, can you get the money?"
"Well," replied Elissey, "I have some in my house, and the remainder I will obtain by selling to my neighbor ten hives of bees that are now swarming. He asked me some time ago if he could have them."
"But," interrupted: Euthymus, "the swarm may prove a valuable one, and you will regret having sold it."
"Regret! Never, my godfather! I have never regretted anything in my life—save my sins. There is nothing more precious to us in this world than our souls."
"Quite true; but it is not pleasant when disorder reigns in one's household."
"And yet it is still worse to have disturbance in one's soul. As you have registered a vow with me, Euthymus, let us go by all means."
CHAPTER II.
Elissey finally succeeded in persuading his comrade to accompany him on their long journey, for Euthymus, after pondering the matter all night, came to Elissey in the morning and said:
"Well, you have spoken the truth; let us start at once. Life and death are in the hands of God. It were better, while we have life and strength, to proceed on our way."
Within a week the two old men were ready for their journey. Of the money which Euthymus had in his house he took with him a hundred and ninety rubles, leaving with his wife two hundred rubles. Elissey also had secured sufficient money to pay his share of the expenses. He had sold to his neighbor the ten hives of bees, which had now begun to swarm and for ​which he received seventy rubles, and had succeeded in borrowing thirty rubles more from various persons. His wife had saved some money to pay for her burial, and Elissey added that amount to his purse, together with the few rubles which his daughter-in-law and her husband had in their possession.
Euthymus placed the management of all his affairs in the hands of his eldest son. He gave orders concerning the extent of the meadow which he was to rent, where to put the manure, and how to finish the building of the house—particularly as to the construction of the roof. He gave directions in regard to everything about the place, leaving his son to execute them.
The only command which Elissey gave to his wife was that she should remove the young bees from the hives which had been sold and put them by themselves, delivering the property to the neighbor who had bought them. She was especially enjoined, however, not to ​cheat him in the transaction. He made no suggestions in regard to their domestic affairs, believing that the duties relating thereto were self-evident, and that the members of his household could be trusted to know what was right and necessary for their welfare.
Thus the old comrades prepared for their departure. Their women-folk had baked for them plenty of cakes and provided them with new leg-wrappers, after which the men put on new boots and, taking with them a supply of bast-shoes, started on their journey. Their families accompanied them to the outskirts of the village, where they took leave of them and wished them God-speed.
Elissey went off with a light heart and in high spirits, and by the time the village was no longer in view he had quite forgotten everything concerning his family and his home. All his thoughts were now concentrated upon an effort to reconcile his companion to the long, wearisome journey that lay before them—that ​they might continue and reach their destination in peace and brotherly love.
While on the road Elissey was constantly repeating to himself the prayers (or "Lives of the Saints") which he knew so well by heart. Those whom they met on the highway and at the stopping-places he treated with great kindness, never forgetting to say a few words about God's goodness. So they continued on their way rejoicing.
There was one thing, however, which Elissey had never been able to accomplish—he could not abandon the use of snuff. He had left his snuff-box at home, and had begun keenly to feel the need of it when he chanced to meet a stranger on the way who shared with him what he had of the beloved powder, after which Elissey at frequent intervals, stepping behind his companion (so as not to oblige the latter to participate in his sin), would take a pinch of snuff.
Euthymus walked along with his usual firm ​step and upright bearing, doing nothing wrong and saying nothing foolish; but his serious, reflective manner was in strange contrast with the cheerful gayety of demeanor which characterized his comrade. He seemed unable to banish his domestic affairs from his thoughts, and grave doubts as to how the work was progressing at his home—whether he did not overlook something in giving directions to his son, and if the latter was really carrying out the orders he had given him—were constantly recurring to his mind. Seeing the farmers on the way planting potatoes or distributing manure, Euthymus would ask himself, "Is my son executing my will with equal faithfulness?" Oftentimes he felt impelled to return to his home, that he might personally direct how things should be done.
CHAPTER III.
Thus the weary devotees proceeded on their way for five long weeks, and the bast-shoes with which their women-folk had provided them were already worn out and they had been obliged to buy new ones. At length they reached the land of the Little Russians (Khokholy). While on their journey they had been compelled to pay for their food and lodging, but on reaching Little Russia they found things quite different. Here they were invited by various persons to become their guests, and for this generous hospitality the people refused to accept any recompense from the travellers; on the contrary, they provided them with a liberal supply of bread and cakes, which they put in their sacks for use on their journey.
Thus the old men travelled a distance of seven ​hundred versts through Little Russia, their trip much brightened by the hospitality of the people. Passing through another province, they reached a point where the soil was less fertile and the people very poor. While the travellers were given a night's lodging free of charge, they were unable to provide themselves with food, even when they offered to pay for it. They were obliged to listen to many tales concerning the failure of the previous year's crops and the number of rich men who had been ruined and compelled to sell all they possessed, while those of moderate means were left quite destitute. The very poor had been compelled to leave the country altogether, many of them becoming beggars on the roads. In the winter they had nothing to eat but husks of corn and pigweed.
On reaching the next town the old men succeeded in buying fifteen pounds of bread. Rising before daylight in the morning, they proceeded on their way, in an effort to cover as ​much ground as possible before the sun became hot. After ten versts' travel they came to a small river, on the bank of which they sat down. Procuring a few cupfuls of water, they prepared breakfast, after which they changed their bast-shoes and lay down to rest.
As they did this, however, Elissey produced his snuff, and Euthymus, seeing him taking a pinch, shook his head reprovingly and said:
"So you cannot give up that sinful habit?"
"Well," replied Elissey, waving his hand deprecatingly, "the sin overpowers me, and what can I do?"
At length they arose and continued their journey for a distance of ten versts more, and they had passed through a large village when the sun became very hot. Although Elissey was quite fatigued and desired some rest and refreshment, Euthymus would not stop. As the latter was the stronger and better walker of the two, his companion found it very difficult to keep up with him.
​"I must have a drink," said Elissey.
"Well," said Euthymus, "you may go and get it. I do not want any."
"All right; you need not wait for me. I will be gone only a few minutes, and will overtake you on the road."
"Very well," said Euthymus; and he continued on his way alone, while Elissey turned toward a peasant's house near by.
As the latter approached the house, he saw that it was a low, white-washed structure resting on a black clay foundation. The white-wash had nearly all disappeared before the ravages of storm and time, giving the house a very dingy aspect. The roof slanted from the front to the rear of the building, the entrance to which was through a small yard, where Elissey had now arrived. Looking behind a pile of wood, he saw lying there a beardless man, who was attired in only a thin shirt and under-pants, the usual negligé costume of the Little Russians. The man appeared as if he had lain there all ​night, for the sun was now high and shining directly in his face; but it was evident that he was not asleep. When Elissey called him and asked for a drink the man did not reply.
"He is either sick or very unkind," thought Elissey, as he moved toward the door. Within he heard loud crying, as of children in distress. Knocking at the door, he shouted:
"Friends!"
To this salutation he received no response. Again knocking, he cried out:
"Christians!"
Still no reply was given, when he knocked a third time and exclaimed:
"God's servants!"
Receiving, no answer, Elissey determined to leave the place at once, but as he turned to go he heard painful moans behind the door.
"I had better remain," he said to himself; "plainly some misfortune has befallen these people. I must investigate."
And he proceeded to enter the room,
CHAPTER IV.
Elissey turned the knob and entered the vestibule, where he found the door of the room wide open. On the left side of the apartment was the oven, and directly opposite the visitor was the "sacred corner," which contained the holy pictures. In the centre of the room was a table, and behind it stood a bench, on which sat an old woman with hair unkempt resting her head upon the table. By her side was an emaciated little boy, who was catching the woman's sleeve and pleading piteously that she would give him something.
When Elissey entered the room he found the air very oppressive. On a bed by the stove lay another woman prone upon her face. She did not even look up and seemed to be suffering intensely. She turned restlessly from side to ​side, and as Elissey approached the couch the air of the room became still more offensive. Finally she raised her head and gazed helplessly at the intruder.
"What do you want?" she asked, at last. "We have nothing left, my dear man."
Elissey understood what she meant, and approaching her kindly said:
"I am but a servant of God, and I came here only for a drink."
"Godfather," replied the woman, "there is nothing in the house, and you may therefore go your way."
"Is there no well person here," asked Elissey, "to care for a sick woman?"
"We are all sick," replied the woman. "A man is dying in the yard, and we in the house."
On seeing a stranger, the boy stopped crying: but as soon as the old woman began to speak he again caught her by the sleeve, pleading:
"Bread! My grandma, give me bread!"
And the boy cried bitterly.
​As Elissey was about to question the old woman, the peasant from the yard entered the room and passed toward the wall, intending to take a seat on the bench. Having too little strength to reach it, however, he fell prostrate on the floor. He did not attempt to rise, and while in that position he tried to speak, but his breath only came in gasps. He finally managed to utter: "Sickness—and—hunger——"
After a pause he nodded with his head toward the boy and gasped:
"He—he is dying—from hunger!"
Then he began to cry like a child.
Taking the sack from his shoulders, Elissey threw it upon the floor. Then lifting it to the bench, he proceeded to open it. Taking out a loaf of bread and a knife, he cut some slices, which he offered to the man. The latter refused the proffered gift, however, pointing instead to the boy and a little girl (who had just appeared on the scene), as if to say, "They have more need of it than I."
​Elissey moved in the direction of the boy, when the child sprang forward and snatched the food violently from his hand, devouring it like a hungry wolf. The girl, who had come from the oven, looked longingly at the bread, and Elissey gave some to her also. Cutting another slice, he handed it to the woman who sat by the table, and, eating it ravenously, she said:
"Water! Give us water! Our tongues are parched! I went to-day—or yesterday, I don't remember—to bring a pail of water, but fell exhausted on the way to the well. I left the pail, for I was unable to carry it; and perhaps some one has taken it away."
After some difficulty Elissey learned the location of the well and proceeded thither. He found the pail, and filling it with water he returned to the house, giving each of the starving people a drink. The children ate some more bread, and on receiving some water the woman did likewise.
​The woman on the bed, to whom Elissey had first spoken, was still unable to rise. She did not regain consciousness, but continued to toss to and fro upon the couch.
The "good Samaritan" then went to the village store, where he bought a supply of wheat, salt, flour, and oil. Returning to the miserable home, he found an axe and proceeded to chop some wood, after which he built a fire under the oven, the little girl helping him as best she could. Elissey then prepared soup and gruel, with which he fed the starving people.
CHAPTER V.
The dying peasant at last succeeded in eating a little food, and the old woman also ate some more, after which the boy and girl gleefully licked the plates and fell asleep in each other's arms.
The peasant and the old woman then related to Elissey how their present misfortune had been brought about.
"We have always been in moderate circumstances," they said; "but last season's crops were so very poor that when autumn came we were obliged to sell everything we had to obtain food. When all was gone, we begged from the neighbors and other good people. At first they supplied our immediate wants, but afterward refused, many of them being still willing to help us were their circumstances any better ​than our own. Besides, begging became a disgrace. We were in debt to almost every one, for we had borrowed money, flour, and bread."
"I have looked everywhere for work," said the man; "but in vain. People are offering their services for their board alone. You may work one day and be idle two. The old woman has frequently taken that girl with her to distant villages to beg, but they never receive very much, for the lack of bread is keenly felt over all this part of the country. However, we have managed thus far to keep body and soul together, in our efforts to struggle along till the time for new crops would arrive. In the spring the people ceased giving bread to beggars, and then illness overtook us, when our condition became very serious indeed. We would have food one day and be obliged to do without it for the next two days. We even started to eat grass, and my old woman became very sick and went to bed. I myself grew quite feeble, having barely sufficient power ​to move; and, worst of all, we had nothing to eat in the house, whereby to regain our lost strength."
"I was then left alone to struggle," said the old woman, "and without food I was quite exhausted and soon became very feeble. My little girl also grew painfully weak and was very nervous and frightened. We tried to send her to the neighbors, but she refused to go. She hid herself in a corner, and we could not get her to move. The day before yesterday a neighbor visited us, but when she saw our starving condition she turned her back and abandoned us to our fate. Her husband had left her and she was without food for her own children. Thus you found us, hoping for death to come and relieve our sufferings."
With tender pity in his heart, Elissey listened to their sad tale. He had now decided to abandon his intention of rejoining his companion that day, and he passed the night with the unfortunate peasant family. Rising early ​the next morning, Elissey went to work about the place as if he had always lived there. He assisted the old woman to knead the bread and then built a fire in the stove, after which he went with the little girl to the neighbors to buy what was necessary—and this indeed meant a great deal, for almost every needful household article was wanting. Not only all the food had been consumed, but almost every article of clothing had been disposed of. This great destitution Elissey undertook to supply with some things he had bought and others that he had made himself. In this way he spent three days with the family.
The boy soon got well, and began to play about the bench, becoming Elissey's constant companion; while the little girl also grew quite cheerful, rendering assistance in many ways. It was her custom to run after Elissey and cry out: "Didoo! Didoosiu!" ("Uncle! My dear uncle!")
The old woman recovered sufficiently to visit ​her neighbors, while the peasant man began to work around the house as formerly.
The only distressful fact which remained was the continued illness of the woman in the bed. On the third day, however, she regained consciousness and asked for food. "Well," thought Elissey, "I did not expect to remain here so long. Now I think it is time for me to depart."
CHAPTER VI.
It had been a time of fasting, and the fourth day of Elissey's sojourn was a holy-day, when they were to "break their fast" (eat meat), and Elissey thought to himself:
"I will remain and break the fast with these people, and will buy something in honor of the occasion, and in the evening I will continue on my journey."
Elissey went again to the village, and obtained a fresh supply of milk, wheat, flour, and bacon, and on his return he helped the woman to cook and bake. In the morning Elissey went to church, and after service he returned and "broke fast" with the family. The sick woman had now arisen from her bed, and was able to move about. The peasant man had shaved himself, and, putting on a clean shirt which the old wom​an had washed for him, he went to call upon the rich man of the village (who held a mortgage on his meadow and rye-field) to plead with him for mercy, in the hope that the rich man might let him go free.
But he failed to find mercy in the heart of the mortgagee. The latter's only response was, "Bring the money."
So in the evening the peasant returned to his home in deep sorrow, and on entering the house was unable to suppress his tears. On hearing this sad news, Elissey became lost in thought.
"How," said he to himself, "will they now manage to live? They will go out to mow and have nothing for their labor, as the meadow is mortgaged. The rye will be ripe and the people will go harvesting (for the crop is abundant), but they need expect none of the fruits, for the whole deciatina [about three acres] is mortgaged to the rich peasant. When I go they will again be left to starve."
​Elissey could not make up his mind to leave them that evening, as had been his intention, and he decided to remain till next morning. He prepared his bed in the yard, and, after saying his prayers, lay down, but he found it impossible to go to sleep. It was necessary that he should resume his journey, as he had lost a good deal of time and money; yet he could not help feeling sorry for the unfortunate family's predicament.
"I cannot supply every one," he said to himself; "I had intended to give them only bread and water; but now it has gone so far that I shall be obliged to redeem their meadow and rye-field, and afterward to buy them a cow and horse, with which to work their farm. Well, Brother Elissey Bodroff, it is plain that you have gotten yourself into trouble. Once you have opened your pocket, you are never done spending."
Without having reached any conclusion, Elissey arose, and putting on his kaftan he took some ​snuff to clear his head. He felt that it was at last necessary that he should depart, yet he had great pity for the poor peasants, and was undecided as to what he would do. Placing the kaftan once more under his head, he again lay down, but the cocks had begun to crow before he fell asleep.
Soon, however, as if some one had suddenly awakened him, he saw himself in his dreams dressed up. He thought he had arisen, and with sack and walking-stick was directing his steps toward the gate, which was opened just wide enough for one person to pass through. But when he made the attempt his sack caught on the gate-post, and in his efforts to release it his leg-wrappers also became entangled and untied. He finally discovered that the latter obstruction was caused by the little girl, who was holding him back and crying out: "Uncle! My dear uncle! Give us bread!" Elissey thought that he next looked toward his feet and beheld the girl holding fast to his leg-wrapper, ​while the peasant man and the old woman were watching the scene from the window.
Awaking suddenly, Elissey said to himself: "To-morrow I will redeem the meadow and rye-field, after which I will buy a horse and cow for the children. It is no use to go beyond the seas to look for Christ, for you may lose your self. I must make one more effort to give these people another start." And Elissey went to sleep again and rested quietly till morning.
Early the next day he arose and visited the rich peasant. He cancelled the mortgage and bought back the scythe which the poor peasant had previously sold to the rich man, returning it to its former owner. Elissey then sent the peasant into the field to mow, going himself to the village in search of a horse and wagon which had been sold to the inn-keeper. After repurchasing them he went to buy also a cow.
Elissey overheard the gossiping of two Little Russian women as he passed along the street, and he became convinced that they were talk​ing about him, for soon he heard one of them say:
"You see, at first they did not recognize him. They thought he was but a common, ordinary man, for he went there only to ask for a drink of water. Yet he is living there still. He has provided them with almost everything they need. Only to-day with my own eyes I saw him buy a horse and wagon from the inn-keeper. People like him are very scarce in this world, and when such a one is found it is cause for great surprise."
On hearing himself thus praised Elissey abandoned his search for the cow and returned to the inn-keeper, to whom he paid the money for his previous purchase. After harnessing the horse he rode back to the peasant home, alighting on reaching the gate.
On seeing the animal standing by the gate the inmates of the house were much surprised. It was plain that Elissey had bought the horse for them, but they hardly dared to think so.
​The peasant went out to open the gate, remarking to Elissey as he did so:
"Well, uncle; and so you have bought a horse?"
"Yes," was the reply; "I have bought it and paid for it—but it was not very dear. You had better mow some grass and bed him down for the night, putting some also into the manger."
The man unharnessed the horse and did as he was directed, after which he and the other members of the household retired for the night. Taking his sack from the house, Elissey went outside and lay down upon it to sleep.
Very early the next morning, before any of the family were up, Elissey arose and dressed himself, and, placing the sack upon his back, went off in search of Euthymus.
CHAPTER VII.
When daylight appeared, Elissey had travelled five versts. Seating himself under a tree, he opened his sack and proceeded to count his money. To his great surprise, he found that he had but seventeen rubles and twenty kopecks left. He said to himself:
"Well, this is certainly too small an amount to take me on my proposed journey beyond the seas, and to go begging 'in Christ’s name' along the way might be only to commit more sin. Godfather Euthymus will reach there safely alone, and will surely put a candle in the window for me. It seems to have been predestinated that I should not fulfil my vow. I am thankful that the Lord is merciful, and will have patience with me."
Arising and putting the sack again upon his ​back, Elissey started to walk in the direction of his home—making a circuit of the village, however, so as not to be seen by the people.
He soon reached his home, for although while he was travelling toward the Holy Land he walked with great difficulty, and could scarcely keep up with Euthymus, on his return journey God seemed to have given him additional strength and he did not know fatigue. He went along rejoicingly waving his stick in the air, and travelling at the rate of seventy versts a day.
On his return Elissey found that the other members of his household had completed their field work, and they rejoiced to see their old man at home once more. But they made many inquiries as to how he happened to leave his comrade, and why he did not continue his journey to Jerusalem. Elissey, however, did not make any extended explanation, saying only: "It was God's will. I lost money on the road and was obliged to leave my companion."
​Restoring to his aged wife the little money he had left, Elissey inquired anxiously concerning their domestic affairs, which he found to be satisfactory in every particular. They were living in peace and contentment.
The family connections of Euthymus, hearing of Elissey's return, came to ask him a number of questions in regard to their old man, but to them he would only say: "Euthymus left me three days before St. Peter's Day. He was in good health. I intended to overtake him, but something happened through which I lost my money, and being unable to go any further I returned."
All the people wondered how such a wise man could have acted so foolishly: he started, but failed to reach his destination—only losing his money in the attempt. But they finally ceased to comment upon it, and soon the incident seemed to pass also out of Elissey's mind, for he had resumed control of his domestic labors with all his former energy. He helped his son ​to cut the winter's wood and to thresh the rye. He also put new roofs on the cart-sheds and prepared his bee-hives for the coming cold weather, having previously given seventeen of them to his neighbor.
The old woman had wished to conceal from Elissey the exact number of swarms that had been obtained from the hives that were sold, but he knew just about what increase to expect, and he accordingly gave the man seventeen bee-hives instead of ten.
When Elissey had got through with his work, he sent his son to look for employment elsewhere, when he settled down for the winter—making bast-shoes and doing other light work for his family.
CHAPTER VIII.
All day long Euthymus waited in vain for the coming of Elissey—not even imagining the errand of mercy that detained him. He had not gone very far when he sat down to wait for him. Alternately he would fall asleep and wake up again, but without seeing anything of his companion. He would look everywhere—but the vain search had already made his eyes weak and feverish.
The sun had set behind the forest, and still there was no trace of Elissey. "It may be that he has passed me by," thought Euthymus; "or perhaps he was riding with some one while I was asleep and did not recognize me. Yet it is impossible that he could not have seen me. In the Steppes you can see for a great distance. Now if I should retrace my steps to look for ​Elissey, and he should go forward, then we will surely lose each other. I had better continue my journey, for perhaps we may meet at the lodging-house during the night."
When Euthymus reached the next village he gave the police a description of his comrade, requesting that he be directed to the house at which Euthymus was staying for the night. Elissey, however, not making his appearance, his friend the next day proceeded alone on his travels. He inquired from all whom he met on the way if they had seen an old man with a bald head, but the answer was invariably in the negative. So Euthymus continued his journey in the hope that he and Elissey might possibly meet either in Odessa or on the ship, and he ceased to worry about the absence of his comrade.
Where Euthymus secured his next night's lodging he fell in with a long-haired traveller, who was dressed in a calotte and under-cassock. He had visited Athos twice and was now on his ​way to Jerusalem, and together they continued their pilgrimage.
At length they reached Odessa in safety, where they waited three days for the arrival of the ship. They found there many other pilgrims from various parts of the world, who also were awaiting the coming of the vessel with anxiety. Once more Euthymus tried to learn something in regard to Elissey's whereabouts, but no one had seen him.
Euthymus' strange companion had tried to instruct him how to go aboard the ship without paying his passage, but. he would not listen to the man who tried to lead him into dishonesty. "No, sir," said he; "I shall pay my way out of the money which I have saved for this purpose." And he paid forty rubles for his passage and return, buying also some bread and herrings to eat on the voyage.
Finally the ship arrived, on which Euthymus and his strange companion embarked with the other pilgrims. Having received its load of ​merchandise and passengers, the vessel weighed anchor and sailed away.
During the day the weather was fine, but toward evening the wind came up and the rain fell in torrents. The ship lurched in the storm and trembled from stem to stern, while huge waves fell upon the deck and nearly swamped the vessel. The passengers became panic-stricken. Women cried, while weaker men ran wildly about in search of places of refuge from the storm.
Euthymus also was frightened, but he did not show it by his manner. When he entered the ship he seated himself on the floor with the pilgrims from the province of Tomboff, who watched their sacks in silence, and there he remained all night and also the next day.
After three days the storm abated, and on the fifth day they reached Constantinople. Some of the pilgrims went to see the temple of Sophia (Great Wisdom), then in possession of the Turks; but Euthymus remained quietly on the ship.
​After a day's delay they sailed again, making a short stay at the ports of Smyrna and Alexandria, and finally reaching Jaffa in safety, where all the pilgrims disembarked.
Much difficulty was experienced in landing them, as they were greatly terrified. The ship was high out of the water, and they feared to descend the rope-ladder to the small boats, which were in waiting for them. The sea was very rough, and the boats constantly surged back and forth, and two of the pilgrims in their attempt to jump into one of the boats fell into the water, but were afterward rescued. The remainder were landed in safety.
They travelled on foot seventy versts, reaching Jerusalem on the fourth day. They stopped on the outskirts of the city, registered their passports, and had their dinner, after which the little band went to visit several holy places. They went to see the Lord's Tomb, but were refused admittance, so they attended morning service in the Patriarch Monastery, where they ​prayed and lighted candles before an icona, or holy picture. From outside its walls they viewed the Temple of the Resurrection, which is erected over the spot where the sepulchre of our Lord is supposed to have been. Their view, however, was somewhat obstructed by the many other buildings which surround the sacred edifice.
On the first day they visited also a grotto in which the Virgin Mary is alleged to have taken shelter during her flight from Bethlehem, after which they paid a priest to sing a "Te Deum" and to put lighted candles on the altar. It had been their intention also to hear mass at the Lord's Tomb, but they were too late, and went instead to Abraham's Monastery, where they saw the spot on which the father of Israel prepared to offer up his son as a sacrifice to God. Afterward they visited the Church of St. James, which is erected where Christ is supposed to have appeared to Mary Magdalene.
Euthymus was shown by his companion all ​the other places of interest, and he informed him as to the amount of money he should give on every occasion, and where they should place lighted candles.
As night drew on they returned to their lodging, and as they were preparing to retire, the stranger became greatly excited. Searching his clothes hastily, he cried out:
"They have stolen my wallet! It contained twenty-three rubles—two ten-ruble bills and three rubles in small change."
He grieved but little over his loss, however, as it could not be helped, and soon he and Euthymus were fast asleep.
CHAPTER IX.
Euthymus soon awoke, as he could not resist the temptation to doubt that his companion's money was really stolen. In the first place, he did not believe that the stranger had possessed any money, for he did not contribute a kopeck at any of the places which they visited. It had been his custom to order Euthymus to give instead, and besides this he had borrowed from him one ruble.
While these thoughts were passing through the mind of Euthymus he accused himself of sinfulness in thinking so harshly about his sleeping companion. "I am wicked," said he, "in thus suspecting the man's honesty. I will think no more about it."
But despite his laudable attempt to put a favorable construction upon the conduct of his as​sociate, grave doubts as to the latter's integrity forced themselves constantly upon his mind. He recollected his unwillingness to display money for any purpose whatever, and could not believe the story concerning the loss of his wallet. "He had no money," concluded Euthymus. "He is only shamming."
The travellers arose early the next morning and attended mass at the Temple of the Resurrection (the Lord's Tomb), for Euthymus never visited any place without his companion, who remained constantly by his side. On reaching the Temple they found that a large crowd of people had preceded them. There were pilgrims from Russia and other countries, while Greeks, Armenians, Turks, and Syrians were to be seen on all sides.
When Euthymus and his comrade reached the holy gates they passed with the other people by the sentinels (Turkish soldiers) and directed their steps toward the spot where the Saviour is said to have been taken from the cross and ​anointed. Here they found nine large candles burning, and Euthymus added one of his own to the number.
His companion then conducted him to the right side of the place, that they might ascend the steps which lead to Mount Calvary and view the spot on which stood the Redeemer's cross.
Here they knelt and prayed, after which they were shown the fissure in the earth that resulted from the earthquake which accompanied our Lord's dying hours.
Then the pilgrims were allowed to look upon the alleged locality where Christ's hands and feet were cruelly nailed to the cross, after which they were shown the "Tomb of Adam," where the blood of Jesus is said to have appeared upon our first parent's bones.
A short distance from here they saw the very stone on which Christ is supposed to have sat while being crowned with thorns, and also a pole to which it is said our Saviour was fastened ​while he was being beaten by his enemies. After this they were shown a large stone containing two holes, in which the feet of Jesus are alleged to have been inserted still further to punish him.
Their guide desired to show them many more objects of interest, but the people were impatient to return to the Lord's Tomb, where the mass of the Greek Church was about to be celebrated; so Euthymus accompanied the other pilgrims to that place.
Euthymus had intended to leave his companion, because the stranger had sinned against him in being deceitful; but he was unable to do so, for he followed him closely all the way to the Tomb.
On arriving at the Temple, they tried to get seats near the altar, but the crowd was so great that they found it impossible to move either backward or forward.
Even while standing up to pray, Euthymus could not prevent his thoughts from wandering ​to his money, and through his fear of losing it he would frequently touch his wallet to see if it was safe. He was disturbed by two reflections—first, he felt that his companion was deceiving him, and, secondly, he said to himself: "If he told me the truth, without deceit, the same misfortune may befall me."
CHAPTER X.
Euthymus stood in the church as he prayed, looking toward the Saviour's Tomb, above which thirty-six hanging lamps were burning dimly. As he looked over the heads of the people he was surprised to see standing under the lamps an old man wearing a very plain coat. He had a bald head and bore a close resemblance to his friend Elissey Bodroff.
At first glance, Euthymus thought it really was Elissey, but he said to himself:
"How can he be here? The next ship was not to leave for a week after ours had sailed. Elissey could not have preceded me, and he was certainly not among our passengers, for I saw every one of the pilgrims."
Yet while Euthymus was thus engaged in thought the old man began to pray. He bowed ​three times—once to God and once to the orthodox world on either side—and as he turned his head to the right, Euthymus felt sure that he recognized in him his old friend Bodroff.
"Yes," said Euthymus, "it is he. The same black beard and curly gray hair—the eyes, the nose, and all the other features are his. Yes, it is Elissey Bodroff!"
Euthymus was overjoyed at the thought of finding his lost companion, though he was unable to understand how he could have arrived before him.
"Oh!" he exclaimed, "Bodroff is so smart that he reached the front ahead of every one else! Still, he may be in the company of some one who has shown him how to do it. I will wait for him at the door. I will leave my new companion and rejoin Elissey, that next time I may reach the altar near the Tomb."
And Euthymus stationed himself at the door, on the lookout for Elissey. At the close of the service, the people began to "kiss the cross" in ​large numbers, and so great was the crowd that Euthymus was pushed roughly aside in the struggle that ensued. Again he became concerned as to the safety of his money, and, keeping his hand on his wallet, he started to go out.
For some time Euthymus wandered about the place looking for his old friend, and, failing to find him anywhere about the Temple, he extended his search to the different lodging-houses, but without success. He failed also to find his other companion, who by some means had suddenly disappeared without returning the ruble he had borrowed from Euthymus.
The next day Euthymus, in company with an old man from Tomboff Province whom he had met on the ship, went to the Lord's Tomb. He had hoped to be able to force his way forward to the altar, but as the crowd was too great he contented himself by leaning up against a pillar to pray.
As he looked toward the front of the Temple, ​he again espied his old friend Elissey Bodroff. He stood in exactly the same place as before, with his hands outstretched in supplication to God—in the same attitude which the priests assume before the altar—and his bald head glistening under the lamps as if surrounded with a halo of glory.
"Now," said Euthymus, as he pushed his way hastily through the crowd, "I must not let him escape me this time."
When he reached the spot, however, Elissey was nowhere to be seen.
On the third day Euthymus again attended the services in the Temple, when he was once more favored with a glimpse of Elissey standing just where he had stood the previous day. He was looking upward, as if his attention were concentrated upon some object in the dome of the Temple. The top of his head was the brightest object to be seen in the vast assemblage.
"Well," said Euthymus, with determination, "he will certainly not get away from me now. ​I will go to the door and intercept him as he leaves the Temple."
Proceeding toward the door, Euthymus took up his position on the steps leading to the entrance, where he waited until the last worshipper had left the building—but his old friend came not.
Euthymus was greatly distressed at the failure of his vigil.
He remained six weeks longer in that vicinity, visiting many other places of interest. During this period he went to Bethlehem, Bethany, and to the river Jordan. On his new shirt he put the seal of the Lord's Tomb, by which he recorded his desire to be buried in that very garment on account of its sacred associations.
Putting some of the Jordan's water into a bottle, he took with him also some clay from its banks. Euthymus then bought some candles in various holy places, after which he discovered that he had already spent more money than he ​could really afford, for he had left scarcely enough to take him home.
At length he started on his return journey, soon reaching Jaffa in safety, where he took passage on a vessel bound for Odessa, from which city he travelled the rest of the way on foot.
CHAPTER XI.
Euthymus proceeded on his lonesome journey without further incident, but as he neared his home distracting thoughts as to the condition of his domestic affairs again distressed his mind. He was constantly wondering if they had gone smoothly during his absence.
Remembering the Russian proverb, he said: "A great deal of the river's water passes in one year. While it takes a life-time to make a home, it may be destroyed in no time."
He was anxious to learn how his son had conducted the business during his absence, how the cattle had passed the winter, and if the new house was finished in accordance with his directions.
At length Euthymus reached the village where, more than a year previous, he had parted ​from his old comrade Elissey Bodroff. He could scarcely recognize the place, on account of the evident prosperity that since had visited the people, for when the pilgrims were there together a great famine was upon the land. Now the crops were good and the people were prosperous. They had quite forgotten their past sufferings, and were contented and happy.
It was near sundown when Euthymus reached this point on his journey. As he arrived opposite the house in which Elissey had performed the part of the "good Samaritan," a girl dressed partly in white ran out and shouted:
"Uncle! My dear uncle, come to us!"
Euthymus desired to continue on his way, but the girl, seizing him by his coat, refused to let him do so. She held tightly to him, and after some difficulty succeeded in dragging him toward her home. She was in great glee, and as they approached the house a woman with a baby in her arms came out to welcome the stranger to their humble abode.
​"Come in, dear uncle," said the woman; "take supper with us, and rest here for the night."
Euthymus accepted the hospitality thus so kindly offered, and as he entered he realized that the house was the same one to which his old comrade had gone for a drink. He was naturally anxious to find out all he could learn in regard to what had become of Elissey, and so he made many inquiries. As he came into the room the woman relieved him of his sack and gave him water in which to bathe his hands and face, after which she invited him to be seated at the table, placing before him bread, milk, curd-dumplings, and gruel.
Euthymus first thanked and then praised his hostess for her cordial welcome, and for the kindly interest which she and her household had taken in him a stranger.
The woman shook her head as she said:
"It would be impossible for us not to welcome strangers who come this way, for to one of such we owe our lives. We were living in ​forgetfulness of God and his mercy, and our punishment was so severe that at one time we prayed that death might relieve us of our misery. There was nothing left for us to eat, and we were both hungry and sick. We certainly should have died had not the Lord taken pity upon us by sending an old man like yourself to our aid. He came to us for a drink of water, and, seeing our sad condition, he was moved to pity and stayed with us for a time. He first gave us some water to drink and then went and bought us food, after which he repurchased our rye-field and meadow, which had been mortgaged for all they were worth. After this he bought a horse and wagon and gave them to us, and then he went on his way.”
At this point the narrative was interrupted by the appearance of another woman upon the scene.
"We do not know," said she, "whether he was a man or an angel of God. He pitied us and befriended us, and finally left us without ​saying who he was, and we knew not upon whom to ask God to let his blessing rest. I can recall that happy morning as if it had occurred only yesterday. As I lay there awaiting death, I saw the old man come in. He was bald, though there was nothing unusual in his appearance. He said he had come to ask for a drink of water, but, sinning even in my misery, I thought to myself, 'Why do they go tramping around?' Yet it was this man who saved our lives, for as soon as he realized our pitiable state he put down his sack on this very spot and proceeded to open it."
Here the little girl interrupted her, saying:
"No, grandma; he first put it in the middle of the room, and afterward placed it on the bench."
Thus the grateful peasants began to dispute with each other, as they recalled every word that Elissey had said to them—what he had done, where he used to sit, and where he slept.
As the night wore on the man of the peasant ​household arrived home on horseback, and related his version of Elissey's visit.
"If that old man," said he, “"ad not come to us when he did we should all have died in our sins. We were almost dead, and in the deepest despair, blaming our neighbors and even the good God for our sufferings and want. But the stranger was the means of our salvation, and through him we were led to have faith in the Lord and to believe in the goodness of mankind. Bless him and prosper him, O Christ! We have been living like wild beasts, but through his kindness we became human beings once more!"
They gave Euthymus an abundance of food and drink, and prepared a place for him to sleep, after which they retired for the night.
But Euthymus found it impossible to sleep. He could not cease to wonder how it happened that he saw his old comrade on three different occasions standing in the Temple in front of all the other pilgrims.
"Now," said he, "I understand wherein he ​surpassed me. It may be that my devotions were rejected by the Lord, but it is plain that his were accepted."
Next morning they parted with Euthymus, giving him plenty of cakes to eat on the way; and as he proceeded on his journey the members of the peasant family resumed their work.
CHAPTER XII.
After one year's absence Euthymus finally reached his home in safety. He returned in the evening, and was surprised to find that his son was not at home. He had been in the tavern drinking, and he soon entered the house in an intoxicated condition.
Euthymus quickly realized that his son had gone astray, that his money had been squandered, and that his business affairs were in a disgraceful state. He scolded the young man for his misconduct, and was answered in a very rude manner. He said to his father:
"You should conduct your own business yourself, and ought not to go away, taking all the money with you—to come home and find fault with me."
​The old man became very angry at this impertinence and severely punished his son.
In the morning Euthymus went to the village elder to return his passport. As he neared the house of his old comrade Elissey he observed the latter's wife standing in the porch.
"Oh!" she exclaimed, "how are you, godfather? How do you do, my dear old friend? Have you enjoyed good health during your journey?"
Euthymus stopped to reply:
"Thank God, I have accomplished my journey successfully. Yet I parted from your old man on the way, though I hear he is now safe at home."
The old lady seemed anxious to continue the conversation, for she was always ready to gossip.
"Yes, my friend," said she; "he returned a long time ago—soon after the holy-day of the Assumption of the Virgin Mary. Oh, how glad and happy we were to see him at home once more! We thanked God for his return, for with​out him we were so lonesome. Of course he could not do much work on account of his old age; but as he is the head of the household we feel more contented when he is with us. But oh! you should just have seen how overjoyed was his son when he learned that his father had come back to us. 'Without him,' said he, 'is just the same as without a light.' Yes," the old woman concluded, "it is always lonesome without our dear old Elissey. We love him and ever have sympathy for him."
"Well," asked Euthymus, "is he at home at present?"
"Yes, my dear," she replied; "he is at work among the bees—gathering the swarms. He says that the swarming is unusually good this year. God has given such increase to the bees that it has no parallel within the old man's recollection. The Lord has blessed us abundantly, notwithstanding our sins. Come inside, my dear friend; for Elissey will be very happy to see you."
​Euthymus entered the porch, and passing through the yard was soon by the side of Elissey. As he approached his old comrade, he observed that he was protected by neither netting nor gloves. He wore a gray coat, and stood under a birch-tree with his bald pate glistening and his hands outstretched—just the attitude in which Euthymus had seen him three different times in the Temple at Jerusalem. Through the leaves of the birch-tree he could see the peculiar glisten of the sun's rays as they fell upon Elissey's bald head, around which the golden bees hovered as if the old man were unconscious of their presence. Euthymus stopped in amazement.
The old woman called aloud to her husband, saying:
"Our godfather also has returned, and he has called to see us!"
Elissey turned round, and on seeing the visitor was greatly overjoyed. As he came near to Euthymus he gently removed the bees which ​had become entangled in his beard. At last he said:
"Oh! how do you do, my godfather? You are welcome, my dear man. How have you journeyed?"
"Not at all," replied Euthymus; "but my feet did. I have brought some water for you from the river Jordan, which you may come and get; but I know not whether the Lord has accepted my devotions."
"Well," remarked Elissey, "glory to thee, O Lord! Save us, O Christ!"
Euthymus remained silent for a few minutes, when he resumed:
"Yes; my feet, with the rest of my body, were there. But I am in doubt as to whether my spirit was there. There may have been some one else's spirit instead."
"It is God's affair, my godfather" said Elissey; "it is God's affair."
"On my way home," persisted Euthymus, "I visited the peasant house at which we parted."
​Becoming alarmed at this information, Elissey hastened to repeat:
"It is God's affair, it is God's affair, my godfather. But come into the house. I will bring some honey."
Thus Elissey succeeded in changing the conversation, when he began to speak about his domestic affairs.
Euthymus sighed heavily, but he made no further reference to the family who were the cause of their becoming separated on the way. Neither did he speak of the visions of Elissey's presence which he had witnessed at the Lord's Tomb.
Thus Euthymus understood clearly that it is God's desire that we should fulfil our vows during this life at our own homes—not by pilgrimages to far-off shrines, but by deeds of love and kindness.