The Enchanted Wanderer and Other Stories

Well, sirs, can you imagine anything better than this story? The gentleman, naturally, should have given back the money, and that would have been the end of it, but he held out a little longer, because he was sorry to part with it. Morning came; all the shops in town were locked; people came and marveled; the police demand the seal, and the Jews shout: “Oy vey, vat kind of gofernment is dis! De high autorities vant to ruin us.” A terrible uproar! The gentleman locks himself in and sits there almost out of his mind till dinnertime, but in the evening he summons those clever Jews and says: “Take your money, curse you, and give me back my seal!” But they no longer want that. They say: “How can you do dat! In de whole town ve did no business all day: now Your Honor muss gif us fifty tousend.” You see what came of it! And the Jews threaten: “If you don’t gif fifty tousend today, tomorrow it vill cost you anoder tventy-fife tousend more!” The gentleman didn’t sleep all night, and in the morning he sent for the Jews again, gave them back all the money he had taken from them, and wrote a promissory note for another twenty-five thousand, and went ahead with the inspection anyhow; found nothing, naturally, quickly went home to his wife, and stormed and raged before her: where was he to get twenty-five thousand to buy back the promissory note from the Jews? “We’ll have to sell the estate that came as your dowry.” But she says: “Not for anything in the world—I’m attached to it.” He says: “It’s your fault, you prayed through some schismatics that I be sent on this mission and assured me their angel would help me, and yet see how nicely he’s helped me.” But she replies: “No, the fault is yours. Why were you so stupid that you didn’t arrest those Jews and declare that they stole the seal from you? But, in any case,” she says, “never mind: just listen to me and I’ll set things right, and others will pay for your injudiciousness.” And she suddenly shouted out to whoever happened to be there: “Quick, hurry, go across the Dniepr and bring me the schismatics’ headman.”

Well, the envoy, naturally, went and brought our Pimen, and the lady says directly, not beating about the bush: “Listen, I know you’re an intelligent man and will understand what I need: there’s been a little unpleasantness with my husband, some scoundrels have robbed him … Jews … you understand, and now we absolutely must have twenty-five thousand today or tomorrow, and there’s nowhere I can get it that quickly; but I’ve called you in and am at peace, because Old Believers are intelligent and rich people, and, as I’ve become convinced, God Himself helps you in all things, so kindly give me twenty-five thousand, and I, for my part, will tell all the ladies about your wonderworking icons, and you’ll see how much you get for wax and oil.”

I suppose it’s not hard for you to imagine, my dear sirs, what our spielman felt about such a turn of events. I don’t know what words he used, but only—and I do believe him—that he began hotly vowing and swearing, testifying to our poverty in the face of such a sum, but she, this new Herodias,¹⁴ didn’t even want to know about it. “No,” she says, “I know very well that the Old Believers are rich, and for you twenty-five thousand is nonsense. When my father was serving in Moscow, the Old Believers did him such favors more than once and for more than that. No, twenty-five thousand is a trifle.”

Here, too, naturally, Pimen tried to explain to her that the Moscow Old Believers were capital people, while we were simple, hardworking hayseeds and had no place competing against Muscovites. But she must have had good Muscovite lessons in her and suddenly cut him short: