eek he was tried in the town for
burglary and was acquitted; they pronounced him mentally deranged, and
yet look at him, he is the picture of health. Scoundrels are very often
acquitted nowadays in Russia on grounds of abnormality and aberration,
yet these acquittals, these unmistakable proofs of an indulgent attitude
to crime, lead to no good. They demoralize the masses, the sense of
justice is blunted in all as they become accustomed to seeing vice
unpunished, and you know in our age one may boldly say in the words of
Shakespeare that in our evil and corrupt age virtue must ask forgiveness
of vice."

"That's very true," the merchant assented. "Owing to these frequent
acquittals, murder and arson have become much more common. Ask the
peasants."

Mihail Karlovitch turned towards us and said:

"As far as I am concerned, gentlemen, I am always delighted to meet with
these verdicts of not guilty. I am not afraid for morality and justice
when they say 'Not guilty,' but on the contrary I feel pleased. Even
when my conscience tells me the jury have made a mistake in acquitting
the criminal, even then I am triumphant. Judge for yourselves,
gentlemen; if the judges and the jury have more faith in _man_ than in
evidence, material proofs, and speeches for the prosecution, is not that
faith _in man_ in itself higher than any ordinary considerations? Such
faith is only attainable by those few who understand and feel Christ."

"A fine thought," I said.

"But it's not a new one. I remember a very long time ago I heard a
legend on that subject. A very charming legend," said the gardener,
and he smiled. "I was told it by my grandmother, my father's mother, an
excellent old lady. She told me it in Swedish, and it does not sound so
fine, so classical, in Russian."

But we begged him to tell it and not to be put off by the coarseness of
the Russian language. Much gratified, he deliberately lighted his pipe,
looked angrily at the laborers, and began:

"There settled in a certain little town a solitary, plain, elderly
gentleman called Thomson or Wilson--but that does not matter; the
surname is not the point. He followed an honorable profession: he was
a doctor. He was always morose and unsociable, and only spoke when
required by his profession. He never visited anyone, never extended his
acquaintance beyond a silent bow, and lived as humbly as a hermit. The
fact was, he was a learned man, and in those days learned men were not
like