“My little sir,” the old man replied to me, “I would be only too delighted, but how can I?—­I have offered that Topknot[49] huge remuneration.  I offered him three hundred rubles, I assure thee on my honour! but in vain.  What is one to do?  We had acted illegally, on faith, after the ancient fashion ... and now see what a bad thing has come of it!  I am sure that Topknot will take Ivan from me by force the first thing we know; he has a strong hand, the Governor eats sour cabbage-soup with him—­the Topknot will send a soldier!  I’m afraid of those soldiers!  In former days, there’s no denying it, I would have defended Ivan,—­but just look at me now, how decrepit I have grown.  How am I to wage war?”—­And, in fact, during my last visit I found that Alexyei Sergyeitch had aged very greatly; even the pupils of his eyes had acquired a milky hue—­like that in infants—­and on his lips there appeared not the discerning smile of former days, but that strainedly-sweet, unconscious smirk which never leaves the faces of very old people even in their sleep.

I imparted Alexyei Sergyeitch’s decision to Ivan.  He stood a while, held his peace, and shook his head.—­“Well,” he said at last, “what is fated to be cannot be avoided.  Only my word is firm.  That is to say:  only one thing remains for me ... play the wag to the end.—­Master, please give me something for liquor!” I gave it; he drank himself drunk—­and on that same day he danced “the fish” in such wise that the maidens and married women fairly squealed with delight, so whimsically amusing was he.

The next day I went home, and three months later—­when I was already in Petersburg—­I learned that Ivan had actually kept his word!—­He had been sent to his new master; his master had summoned him to his study and announced to him that he was to serve as his coachman, that he entrusted him with a troika of Vyatka horses,[50] and that he should exact a strict account from him if he treated them badly, and, in general, if he were not punctual.—­“I’m not fond of jesting,” he said.—­Ivan listened to his master, first made obeisance to his very feet, and then informed him that it was as his mercy liked, but he could not be his servant.—­“Release me on quit-rent, Your High-Born,” he said, “or make a soldier of me; otherwise there will be a catastrophe before long.”

The master flared up.—­“Akh, damn thee!  What is this thou darest to say to me?—­Know, in the first place, that I am ‘Your Excellency,’ and not ‘Your High-Born’; in the second place, thou art beyond the age, and thy size is not such that I can hand thee over as a soldier; and, in conclusion,—­what calamity art thou threatening me with?  Art thou preparing to commit arson?”

“No, your Excellency, not to commit arson.”

“To kill me, then, pray?”

Ivan maintained a stubborn silence.—­“I will not be your servant,” he said at last.

“Here, then, I’ll show thee,” roared the gentleman, “whether thou wilt be my servant or not!”—­And after having cruelly flogged Ivan, he nevertheless ordered that the troika of Vyatka horses should be placed in his charge, and appointed him a coachman at the stables.