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"Holy Saints! they are afraid to make a reisak!"

Ivan crossed himself and sprang. He cleared the rocks, but,



instead of bursting through the ice with his head, fell at full

length upon his back.



"O knave!" yelled the Prince,--"not to know where his head is!

Thinks it's his back! Give him fifteen stripes."



Which was instantly done.

The second attempt was partially successful. One of the hunters



broke through the ice, head foremost, going down, but he failed to

come up again; so the feat was only half performed.



The Prince became more furiously excited.

"This is the way I'm treated!" he cried. "He forgets all about



finishing the reisak, and goes to chasing sterlet! May the carps

eat him up for an ungrateful vagabond! Here, you beggars!"



(addressing the poor relations,) "take your turn, and let me see

whether you are men."



Only one of the frightened parasites had the courage to obey. On

reaching the brink, he shut his eyes in mortal fear, and made a



leap at random. The next moment he lay on the edge of the ice with

one leg broken against a fragment of rock.



This capped the climax of the Prince's wrath. He fell into a state

bordering on despair, tore his hair, gnashed his teeth, and wept



bitterly.

"They will be the death of me!" was his lament. "Not a man among



them! It wasn't so in the old times. Such beautiful reisaks as

I have seen! But the people are becoming women,--hares,--



chickens,--skunks! Villains, will you force me to kill you?

You have dishonored and disgraced me; I am ashamed to look my



neighbors in the face. Was ever a man so treated?"

The serfs hung down their heads, feeling somehow responsible for



their master's misery. Some of them wept, out of a stupid sympathy

with his tears.



All at once he sprang down from the cask, crying in a gay,

triumphant tone,--



"I have it! Bring me Crop-Ear. He's the fellow for a reisak,--

he can make three, one after another."



One of the boldest ventured to suggest that Crop-Ear had been sent

away in disgrace to another of the Prince's estates.



"Bring him here, I say? Take horses, and don't draw rein going or

coming. I will not stir from this spot until Crop-Ear comes."



With these words, he mounted the barrel, and recommenced ladling

out the wine. Huge fires were made, for the night was falling, and



the cold had become intense. Fresh game was skewered and set to

broil, and the tragic interlude of the revel was soon forgotten.



Towards midnight the sound of hoofs was heard, and the messengers

arrived with Crop-Ear. But, although the latter had lost his ears,



he was not inclined to split his head. The ice, meanwhile, had

become so strong that a cannon-ball would have made no impression



upon it. Crop-Ear simply threw down a stone heavier than himself,

and, as it bounced and slid along the solid floor, said to Prince



Alexis,--

"Am I to go back, Highness, or stay here?"



"Here, my son. Thou'rt a man. Come hither to me."

Taking the serf's head in his hands, he kissed him on both cheeks.



Then he rode homeward through the dark, iron woods, seated astride

on the barrel, and steadying himself with his arms around Crop-



Ear's and Waska's necks.

VIII.



The health of the Princess Martha, always delicate, now began to

fail rapidly. She was less and less able to endure her husband's



savage humors, and lived almost exclusively in her own apartments.

She never mentioned the name of Boris in his presence, for it was



sure to throw him into a paroxysm of fury. Floating rumors in

regard to the young Prince had reached him from the capital, and



nothing would convince him that his wife was not cognizant of her

son's doings. The poor Princess clung to her boy as to all that



was left her of life, and tried to prop her failing strength with

the hope of his speedy return. She was now too helpless to thwart



his wishes in any way; but she dreaded, more than death, the

terrible SOMETHING which would surely take place between father






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