lds with the
women of the village, still speaks of her children, of her
grandchildren, and of her son, the bishop. But she speaks timidly of
him, as if she feared that they would not believe her. And, in
truth, no one puts any faith in what she says.

It is among the people and the working classes that man is most
completely rid of all traces of an artificial and untruthful
exterior; the struggle against misery does not leave much room for
other preoccupations; life is merciless, it crushes unrelentingly
man's dreams of happiness, and often does not leave any one to share
the burden of sorrows or even its simple cares. The short and very
touching story of "The Coachman" gives us an excellent example of
this loneliness. Yona, a poor coachman, has lost his son; he feels
that he has not the strength to live through this sorrow alone; he
feels the absolute need of speaking to some one. But he tries in
vain to confide his sorrows to one or the other of his patrons. No
one listens to him. Therefore, once his day's work is over, alone in
the stable, he pours out his heart to his horse: "Yes, my little
mare, he is dead, my beloved child.... Let us suppose that you had a
colt, and that this colt should suddenly die, wouldn't that cause
you sorrow?" The mare looks at him with shining eyes, and snuffles
the hand of her master, who ends by telling her the entire story of
the sickness and death of his son.

In "The Dreams," a miserable vagabond, whom two constables are
taking to the neighboring city, dreams aloud of the pleasant life he
expects to lead in Siberia, whither he hopes to be deported. His
gaolers listen to him not without a certain interest. They also
begin to dream ... they dream of a free country, from which they are
separated by an enormous stretch of land, a country that they can
hardly conceive. One of them brusquely interrupts the dreams of the
vagabond: "That's all right, brother, you'll never get to that
enchanted land. How are you going to get there? You are going to
travel 300 versts and then you'll give your soul up to God. You are
already almost gone." And then, in the imagination of the vagabond,
other scenes present themselves: the slowness of justice, the
temporary jails, the prison, the forced marches and the weary halts,
the hard winters, sickness, the death of comrades.... "A shudder
passes through his whole body, his head trembles and his body
contracts like a worm which has been trodden upon...."