forester, and picked up the axe. We started.
I walked in the rear.... The rain began to drizzle again, and
soon was pouring in torrents. With difficulty we made our way
to the cottage. The Wolf turned the captured nag loose in the
yard, led the peasant into the house, loosened the knot of the
girdle, and seated him in the corner. The little girl, who had
almost fallen asleep by the oven, sprang up, and with dumb
alarm began to stare at us. I seated myself on the wall-bench.

"Ekh, what a downpour," remarked the forester. "We must wait
until it stops. Wouldn't you like to lie down?"

"Thanks."

"I would lock him up in the lumber-room, on account of your
grace," he went on, pointing to the peasant, "but, you see, the
bolt...."

"Leave him there, don't touch him," I interrupted The Wolf.

The peasant cast a sidelong glance at me. I inwardly registered
a vow that I would save the poor fellow at any cost. He sat
motionless on the wall-bench. By the light of the lantern I was
able to scrutinize his dissipated, wrinkled face, his pendant,
yellow eyebrows, his thin limbs.... The little girl lay down on
the floor, at his very feet, and fell asleep again. The Wolf
sat by the table with his head propped on his hands. A
grasshopper chirped in one corner..... The rain beat down upon
the roof and dripped down the windows; we all maintained
silence.

"Foma Kuzmitch," began the peasant suddenly, in a dull, cracked
voice: "hey there, Foma Kuzmitch!"

"What do you want?"

"Let me go."

The Wolf made no reply.

"Let me go ... hunger drove me to it ... let me go."

"I know you," retorted the forester, grimly. "You're all alike
in your village, a pack of thieves."

"Let me go," repeated the peasant. "The head clerk ... we're
ruined, that's what it is ... let me go!"

"Ruined!... No one ought to steal!"

"Let me go, Foma Kuzmitch ... don't destroy me. Thy master, as
thou knowest, will devour me, so he will."

The Wolf turned aside. The peasant was twitching all over as
though racked with fever. He kept shaking his head, and he
breathed irregularly.

"Let me go," he repeated with melancholy despair. "Let me go,
for God's sake, let me go! I will pay, that I will, by God. By
God, hunger drove me to it ... the c