some imprudent teal were to expose itself to
our fire and lose its life, our dogs would be
unable to extricate its body from the tangled
thicket of rushes. In spite of their noble
devotedness, they would be unable either to
swim or to walk on the bottom of mud, and
would do nothing but set their muzzles bleeding
by cutting them against the sharp-edged
sedge-leaves.

"Come," said Ermolaï, " it is clear that we
must now procure a boat. A man in the
village, nicknamed Soutchok, or ' Dry Chips,'
has a sort of raft which pretends to be a flat-
bottomed boat; only I do not know where it
is moored. I must go and find the fellow
himself."

He soon retumed, accompanied by Soutchok,
who, lame, in rags, with bristling and
untidy hair and beard, looked like a
sexagenarian domestic that had passed into the
service of a master who cared little about
appearances.

"Have you a boat?" I asked.

"Yes," he answered, in a hoarse, and
hiccupping voice; "but it is a very bad one."
Soutchok's habitual mode of speaking gave
you the idea of a stupid clown who cannot
quite succeed in waking himself up.

"What is the matter with it?"

"It leaks, and the rullocks are broken."

"The damage is not great," said Ermolaï.
"With tallow and hemp it will be easy to
caulk it."

Ah! certainly," said Soutchok; " get some
hemp and tallow. There is plenty to be had."

"But what are you? What's your trade?"
I inquired.

"I am our lady's fisherman."

"A capital fisherman, not to keep a boat
on the river!"

"What good would that be, if there are no
fish in the river?"

"Fish don't like the rusty taste of
marsh waters," observed my huntsman,
majestically.

"Pray tell me, have you long been a fisherman?"

"Seven years, Bârine."

"No more! And what did you do before
that?"

"I was a coachman."

"Why didn't they let you remain a coachman?"

"The new lady ordered me out of the
stables."

"What lady?"

The lady who bought us, Aléona
Timoféevna; a very fat, stout woman, not
particularly young. Don't you know her?"

"No. What put it into her head to make
you her fisherman?"

"God knows. She came to look at her
estate of Tambof; she summoned all the
servants; she showed herself; we rushed upon
her, to kiss her hand; she was by no means
offended. After we had done, she asked each
of us in succession what was his employment.
When my turn came, and she was informed
that I was a coachman, she said, ' You,
indeed, a coachman! A pretty sort of a
coachman, with such a face and figure as
yours! Really, I have got a handsome coachman!
I won't have you belong to the stables
any longer. Go and shave your beard and
cut your hair short; you shall be my family
fisherman. Every time that I come here, it
is your duty to supply my table with fish,
you understand; and if my pond is not kept
in order, you will have to answer for it.'—But
what a joke, to ask for fish here! Good
heavens! That is more than I can manage, and
I should be much obliged if any one would
tell me how to keep such a pond as ours neat
and tidy."

"To whom did you belong before that?"

"To Serge Serghéitch Pehtiref, who
inherited us. He was our master only six
years. I used to drive him when he was
here; in town, he had another coachman."

"You were a coachman, then, from your
youth upwards?"

"Ah, no, no! I was made a coachman in
the time of Serge Serghéitch. Before then, I
was a cook; but not in town, only here in the
country."

"Cook, I dare say; but cook to whom?"

"Why, to the former master, to Athanase
Nefédytch, who was Serge Serghéitch's
uncle. The old gentleman had bought Lgof,
and that's how Serge Serghéitch became
our master; namely, by inheritance."

"From whom did old Athanase make the
purchase?"

"Why, from Tatiana Vacilievna."

"What Tatiana Vacilievna?"

"Why, she who died single at Bolkhof near
Karatchof; an old maid, look you. She was
never married. Didn't you know her? She
had us from her father Vacili Séménitch. She
was our mistress for a long while; oh! for a
good space of twenty years.''

"Were you not her cook?"

"Yes, at first; but she soon made me her
kofichénok."

"Her what?"

"Her ko-fi-ché-nok."

"What sort of servant is that?"

"That's more than I can tell you, Bârine.
Only I was put into the place, and was
obliged to be called Anntonn, instead of
Kouzma. Such were madame's orders."

"Your real name was Kouzma, then?"

"Why, yes! Kouzma."

" And you were her kofichénok for seventeen
or eighteen years?"

"Ah, no; I had to be an actor?"

"Nonsense; what do you mean by actor?"

"I acted in her theatre. Our Lady made a
theatre in a large chamber."

"What line of parts did you take?"

"I beg your pardon?"

"What had you to do in the theatre?"

"Ah! you don't know then. They took me
and dressed me up. I walked about in the