ompassed by sorrows, Prince, you should humbly submit to the will of
the Lord."

"Submit to Borka?" the Prince scornfully laughed. "I know what I'll
do. There's time enough yet for a wife and another child,--ay,--a dozen
children! I can have my pick in the province; and if I couldn't I'd
sooner take Masha, the goose-girl, than leave Borka the hope of stepping
into my shoes. Beggars they shall be,--beggars!"

What further he might have said was interrupted by the priests rising
to chant the Blajennon uspennie (blessed be the dead),--after which,
the trisna, a drink composed of mead, wine, and rum, was emptied to
the health of the departed soul. Every one stood during this ceremony,
except Prince Alexis, who fell suddenly prostrate before the consecrated
pictures, and sobbed so passionately that the tears of the guests flowed
for the third time. There he lay until night; for whenever any one dared
to touch him, he struck out furiously with fists and feet. Finally he
fell asleep on the floor, and the servants then bore him to his sleeping
apartment.

For several days afterward his grief continued to be so violent that the
occupants of the castle were obliged to keep out of his way. The whip
was never out of his hand, and he used it very recklessly, not always
selecting the right person. The parasitic poor relations found their
situation so uncomfortable, that they decided, one and all, to detach
themselves from the tree upon which they fed and fattened, even at the
risk of withering on a barren soil. Night and morning the serfs prayed
upon their knees, with many tears and groans, that the Saints might send
consolation, in any form, to their desperate lord.

The Saints graciously heard and answered the prayer. Word came that a
huge bear had been seen in the forest stretching towards Juriewetz. The
sorrowing Prince pricked up his ears, threw down his whip, and ordered a
chase. Sasha, the broad-shouldered, the cunning, the ready, the untiring
companion of his master, secretly ordered a cask of vodki to follow the
crowd of hunters and serfs. There was a steel-bright sky, a low, yellow
sun, and a brisk easterly wind from the heights of the Ural. As the
crisp snow began to crunch under the Prince's sled, his followers saw
the old expression come back to his face. With song and halloo and blast
of horns, they swept away into the forest.

Saint John the Hunter must have been on guard over Russia that day.

The great bear was