of the hut which began to display even some traces of luxury. The
floor was covered with skins of wolves and bears; on the walls there
hung whole rows of squirrel-skins. Every fortnight these were sold to a
peasant from the village who did not trouble his head about Ivan's past.

The housekeeping also was on a satisfactory basis. Under the roof hung
dried mushrooms from long strings and in a corner stood a sack full of
potatoes. In the hollow of an old gnarled tree which threw its shade
far over the forest-clearing, some round loaves of black-bread as hard
as stones were stored up. In the wood they always had traps and snares
ready set which caught abundance of game.

When Anjuta, who had again gone to sleep, put her head out of the hut,
the water bubbled merrily in the pot from which the feet of a plucked
fowl projected. Ivan was busily engaged in slicing potatoes into the
broth.

"It smells good," said the little girl, pursing her mouth in eager
expectation.

"But you won't get any," said the old man teasingly.

"Oh yes I will. You will always give me something, even when you remain
hungry yourself."

"What a princess you have become! Yesterday you ate your fill, and now
there is no more."

"Listen, Grandfather," said the child after a few moments of reflection.
"Have you always lived in the forest?"

Ivan wrinkled his brow and was silent.

"It is jolly in the forest," continued she. "There is no one to beat
one. But mother was afraid in it. She said there were wicked and cursed
men in the forest. Grandfather, what kind of men are they?"

Ivan's face became still gloomier.

"Who has cursed them, Grandfather? Has God done it? Will they burn in
hell?"

The old man laid his hand on the child's ruffled hair.

"May God protect you from them. They are worse than wild animals. An
animal, when it is satisfied, can be merciful, but they----" He broke
off and stared into the fire.

"Well, what do they do?" the child urged him in her keen curiosity.
"Grandfather, what do they do? Are they villains?"

"Be off," cried the convict suddenly. "Get away, or I shall beat you.
What nonsense are you talking?"

He pushed the child violently to one side. Before her stood all at once
a completely altered "grandfather." In his sunken eyes there glowed a
lurid spark, his grey hairs bristled, and his face twitched
convulsively. His breast heaved with a rattling sound, and his hand was
clenched as though to strike. Anjuta