ight have gone out and earned something for themselves, they
were all girls, who could do nothing but stay at home and cry for food,
and many a time it went to his heart so that he stopped his ears, and
ran out of the house that he mightn't hear them.

"However, as the saying is, 'Bear up, Cossack, and thou'll be Maman
(chief) some day;' so he struggled on somehow or other, till at last it
came to Easter Eve. And then all the village was up like a fair, some
lighting candles before the pictures of the saints; some baking cakes
and pies, and all sorts of good things; others running about in their
best clothes, greeting their friends and relations; and, as soon as it
came to midnight, such a kissing and embracing, such a shaking of hands
and exchanging of good wishes, as I daresay you've seen many a time in
our villages; and nothing to be heard all over the place but 'Christ is
risen!' 'He is risen indeed!'[C]

"But, as you may think, our poor Stepka (Stephen) had neither new
clothes nor rejoicings in _his_ hut--nor lighted candles either, for
that matter. The good old priest had left him a few tapers as he
passed, for _he_ was always a kind man to the poor; but he had quote
forgotten that the poor fellow would have nothing to kindle them with,
and so, though the candles were in their places, all ready for
lighting, there was not a glimmer of light to be seen! And that
troubled poor Stepka more than all his other griefs, for he was a true
Russian, and thought it a sore thing that he could not even do honor to
the day on which our Lord had arisen from the dead. Besides, he had
hoped that the sight of the pretty light would amuse his children, and
make them forget their hunger a little; and at the thought of their
disappointment his heart was very sore.

"However, as the proverb says, 'Sitting still won't make one's corn
grow.' So he got up and went out to beg a light from some of his
neighbors. But the people of the village (it's a pity to have to say
it), were a hard-hearted, cross-grained set, who had not a morsel of
compassion for a man in trouble; for they forgot that the tears of the
poor are God's thunder-bolts, and that every one of them will burn into
a man's soul at last, as good father Arkadi used to tell us. So, when
poor Stepka came up to one door after another, saying humbly, 'Give me
a light for my Easter candles, good neighbors, for the love of Heaven,'
some mocked at him, and others bade him begone, and o