He had been swapped twenty years previously by the Messrs. Sukhoy for another serf, a man belonging to the Telyegins—­he had simply been exchanged, without any formalities and documents.  The man who had been given in exchange for him had died, but the Messrs. Sukhoy had forgotten all about Ivan and had left him in Alexyei Sergyeitch’s house as his property; his nickname alone served as a reminder of his origin.[46]—­But lo and behold! his former owners had died also, their estate had fallen into other hands, and the new owner, concerning whom rumours were in circulation to the effect that he was a cruel man, a torturer, having learned that one of his serfs was to be found at Alexyei Sergyeitch’s without any passport and right, began to demand his return; in case of refusal he threatened to have recourse to the courts and a penalty—­and he did not threaten idly, as he himself held the rank of Privy Councillor,[47] and had great weight in the government.[48] Ivan, in his affright, darted to Alexyei Sergyeitch.  The old man was sorry for his dancer, and he offered to buy Ivan from the privy councillor at a good price; but the privy councillor would not hear of such a thing; he was a Little Russian and obstinate as the devil.  The poor fellow had to be surrendered.

“I have got used to living here, I have made myself at home here, I have eaten bread here, and here I wish to die,” Ivan said to me—­and there was no grin on his face now; on the contrary, he seemed turned into stone....  “But now I must go to that malefactor....  Am I a dog that I am to be driven from one kennel to another with a slip-noose round my neck—­and a ‘take that’?  Save me, master; entreat your uncle,—­remember how I have always amused you....  Or something bad will surely come of it; the matter will not pass off without sin.”

“Without what sin, Ivan?”

“Why, I will kill that gentleman.—­When I arrive I shall say to him:  ’Let me go back, master; otherwise, look out, beware....  I will kill you.’”

If a chaffinch or a bullfinch could talk and had begun to assure me that it would claw another bird, it would not have caused me greater astonishment than did Ivan on that occasion.—­What!  Vanya Sukhikh, that dancer, jester, buffoon, that favourite of the children, and a child himself—­that kindest-hearted of beings—­a murderer!  What nonsense!  I did not believe him for a single moment.  I was startled in the extreme that he should have been able to utter such a word!  Nevertheless, I betook myself to Alexyei Sergyeitch.  I did not repeat to him what Ivan had said to me, but I tried in every way to beg him to see whether he could not set the matter right.