ater upon the
dry land; and he would writhe about this way and that, and even bring
his heels up to his neck; and then, when he sprang to his feet and began
to shout, the earth would simply tremble beneath him! Alexyei Sergyeitch
was extremely fond of choral songs and dances, as I have already said;
he could never refrain from shouting: 'Send hither Vaniushka! the little
coachman! Give us 'the fish,' be lively!'--and a minute later he would
whisper in ecstasy: 'Akh, what a devil of a man he is!'"

Well, then,--on my last visit this same Ivan Sukhikh comes to me in my
room, and without uttering a word plumps down on his knees.

"What is the matter with thee, Ivan?"

"Save me, master!"

"Why, what's the trouble?"

And thereupon Ivan related to me his grief.

He had been swapped twenty years previously by the Messrs. Sukhoy for
another serf, a man belonging to the Telyegins--he had simply been
exchanged, without any formalities and documents. The man who had been
given in exchange for him had died, but the Messrs. Sukhoy had forgotten
all about Ivan and had left him in Alexyei Sergyeitch's house as his
property; his nickname alone served as a reminder of his
origin.[46]--But lo and behold! his former owners had died also, their
estate had fallen into other hands, and the new owner, concerning whom
rumours were in circulation to the effect that he was a cruel man, a
torturer, having learned that one of his serfs was to be found at
Alexyei Sergyeitch's without any passport and right, began to demand his
return; in case of refusal he threatened to have recourse to the courts
and a penalty--and he did not threaten idly, as he himself held the rank
of Privy Councillor,[47] and had great weight in the government.[48]
Ivan, in his affright, darted to Alexyei Sergyeitch. The old man was
sorry for his dancer, and he offered to buy Ivan from the privy
councillor at a good price; but the privy councillor would not hear of
such a thing; he was a Little Russian and obstinate as the devil. The
poor fellow had to be surrendered.

"I have got used to living here, I have made myself at home here, I have
eaten bread here, and here I wish to die," Ivan said to me--and there
was no grin on his face now; on the contrary, he seemed turned into
stone.... "But now I must go to that malefactor.... Am I a dog that I am
to be driven from one kennel to another with a slip-noose round my
neck--and a 'take that'? Save me, master; entreat your u