sacred times, and days and years, 15 and let them be lights in the
Genesis 1-3
The Beginning
1 In the beginning God created the heavens and the earth. 2 Now the
earth was formless and empty, darkness was over the surface of the
deep, and the Spirit of God was hovering over the waters.
3 And God said, “Let there be light,” and there was light. 4 God saw
that the light was good, and he separated the light from the darkness.
5 God called the light “day,” and the darkness he called “night.” And
there was evening, and there was morning—the first day.
6 And God said, “Let there be a vault between the waters to separate
water from water.” 7 So God made the vault and separated the water
under the vault from the water above it. And it was so. 8 God called
the vault “sky.” And there was evening, and there was morning—the
second day.
9 And God said, “Let the water under the sky be gathered to one
place, and let dry ground appear.” And it was so. 10 God called the
dry ground “land,” and the gathered waters he called “seas.” And God
saw that it was good.
11 Then God said, “Let the land produce vegetation: seed-bearing
plants and trees on the land that bear fruit with seed in it, according
to their various kinds.” And it was so. 12 The land produced
vegetation: plants bearing seed according to their kinds and trees
bearing fruit with seed in it according to their kinds. And God saw that
it was good. 13 And there was evening, and there was morning—the
third day.
14 And God said, “Let there be lights in the vault of the sky to
separate the day from the night, and let them serve as signs to mark
vault of the sky to give light on the earth.” And it was so. 16 God
made two great lights—the greater light to govern the day and the
lesser light to govern the night. He also made the stars. 17 God set
them in the vault of the sky to give light on the earth, 18 to govern the
day and the night, and to separate light from darkness. And God saw
that it was good. 19 And there was evening, and there was morning
—the fourth day.
20 And God said, “Let the water teem with living creatures, and let
birds fly above the earth across the vault of the sky.” 21 So God
created the great creatures of the sea and every living thing with
which the water teems and that moves about in it, according to their
kinds, and every winged bird according to its kind. And God saw that
it was good. 22 God blessed them and said, “Be fruitful and increase
in number and fill the water in the seas, and let the birds increase on
the earth.” 23 And there was evening, and there was morning—the
fifth day.
24 And God said, “Let the land produce living creatures according to
their kinds: the livestock, the creatures that move along the ground,
and the wild animals, each according to its kind.” And it was so. 25
God made the wild animals according to their kinds, the livestock
according to their kinds, and all the creatures that move along the
ground according to their kinds. And God saw that it was good.
26 Then God said, “Let us make mankind in our image, in our
likeness, so that they may rule over the fish in the sea and the birds
in the sky, over the livestock and all the wild animals,[a] and over all
the creatures that move along the ground.”
27 So God created mankind in his own image,
in the image of God he created them;
male and female he created them.
28 God blessed them and said to them, “Be fruitful and increase in
number; fill the earth and subdue it. Rule over the fish in the sea and
the birds in the sky and over every living creature that moves on the
ground.”

29 Then God said, “I give you every seed-bearing plant on the face of
the whole earth and every tree that has fruit with seed in it. They will
be yours for food. 30 And to all the beasts of the earth and all the
birds in the sky and all the creatures that move along the ground—
everything that has the breath of life in it—I give every green plant for
food.” And it was so.
31 God saw all that he had made, and it was very good. And there
was evening, and there was morning—the sixth day.
2 Thus the heavens and the earth were completed in all their vast
array.
2 By the seventh day God had finished the work he had been doing;
so on the seventh day he rested from all his work. 3 Then God
blessed the seventh day and made it holy, because on it he rested
from all the work of creating that he had done.
Adam and Eve
4 This is the account of the heavens and the earth when they were
created, when the Lord God made the earth and the heavens.
5 Now no shrub had yet appeared on the earth[b] and no plant had
yet sprung up, for the Lord God had not sent rain on the earth and
there was no one to work the ground, 6 but streams[c] came up from
the earth and watered the whole surface of the ground. 7 Then the
Lord God formed a man[d] from the dust of the ground and breathed
into his nostrils the breath of life, and the man became a living being.
8 Now the Lord God had planted a garden in the east, in Eden; and
there he put the man he had formed. 9 The Lord God made all kinds
of trees grow out of the ground—trees that were pleasing to the eye
and good for food. In the middle of the garden were the tree of life
and the tree of the knowledge of good and evil.
10 A river watering the garden flowed from Eden; from there it was
separated into four headwaters. 11 The name of the first is the
Pishon; it winds through the entire land of Havilah, where there is
gold. 12 (The gold of that land is good; aromatic resin[e] and onyx
are also there.) 13 The name of the second river is the Gihon; it
winds through the entire land of Cush.[f] 14 The name of the third
river is the Tigris; it runs along the east side of Ashur. And the fourth
river is the Euphrates.
15 The Lord God took the man and put him in the Garden of Eden to
work it and take care of it. 16 And the Lord God commanded the
man, “You are free to eat from any tree in the garden; 17 but you
must not eat from the tree of the knowledge of good and evil, for
when you eat from it you will certainly die.”
18 The Lord God said, “It is not good for the man to be alone. I will
make a helper suitable for him.”
19 Now the Lord God had formed out of the ground all the wild
animals and all the birds in the sky. He brought them to the man to
see what he would name them; and whatever the man called each
living creature, that was its name. 20 So the man gave names to all
the livestock, the birds in the sky and all the wild animals.
But for Adam[g] no suitable helper was found. 21 So the Lord God
caused the man to fall into a deep sleep; and while he was sleeping,
he took one of the man’s ribs[h] and then closed up the place with
flesh. 22 Then the Lord God made a woman from the rib[i] he had
taken out of the man, and he brought her to the man.
23 The man said,
“This is now bone of my bones
and flesh of my flesh;
she shall be called ‘woman,’
for she was taken out of man.”
24 That is why a man leaves his father and mother and is united to
his wife, and they become one flesh.
25 Adam and his wife were both naked, and they felt no shame.
The Fall
3 Now the serpent was more crafty than any of the wild animals the 14 So the Lord God said to the serpent, “Because you have done
Lord God had made. He said to the woman, “Did God really say, ‘You this,
must not eat from any tree in the garden’?”
“Cursed are you above all livestock
2 The woman said to the serpent, “We may eat fruit from the trees in and all wild animals!
the garden, 3 but God did say, ‘You must not eat fruit from the tree You will crawl on your belly
that is in the middle of the garden, and you must not touch it, or you and you will eat dust
will die.’” all the days of your life.
15 And I will put enmity
4 “You will not certainly die,” the serpent said to the woman. 5 “For between you and the woman,
God knows that when you eat from it your eyes will be opened, and and between your offspring[j] and hers;
you will be like God, knowing good and evil.” he will crush[k] your head,
and you will strike his heel.”
6 When the woman saw that the fruit of the tree was good for food
and pleasing to the eye, and also desirable for gaining wisdom, she 16 To the woman he said,
took some and ate it. She also gave some to her husband, who was
with her, and he ate it. 7 Then the eyes of both of them were opened, “I will make your pains in childbearing very severe;
and they realized they were naked; so they sewed fig leaves together with painful labor you will give birth to children.
and made coverings for themselves. Your desire will be for your husband,
and he will rule over you.”
8 Then the man and his wife heard the sound of the Lord God as he
was walking in the garden in the cool of the day, and they hid from 17 To Adam he said, “Because you listened to your wife and ate fruit
the Lord God among the trees of the garden. 9 But the Lord God from the tree about which I commanded you, ‘You must not eat from
called to the man, “Where are you?” it,’

10 He answered, “I heard you in the garden, and I was afraid “Cursed is the ground because of you;
because I was naked; so I hid.” through painful toil you will eat food from it
all the days of your life.
11 And he said, “Who told you that you were naked? Have you eaten 18 It will produce thorns and thistles for you,
from the tree that I commanded you not to eat from?” and you will eat the plants of the field.
19 By the sweat of your brow
12 The man said, “The woman you put here with me—she gave me you will eat your food
some fruit from the tree, and I ate it.” until you return to the ground,
since from it you were taken;
13 Then the Lord God said to the woman, “What is this you have for dust you are
done?” and to dust you will return.”

The woman said, “The serpent deceived me, and I ate.”

20 Adam[l] named his wife Eve,[m] because she would become the
mother of all the living.
Genesis 22: 1-19
21 The Lord God made garments of skin for Adam and his wife and
clothed them. 22 And the Lord God said, “The man has now become
like one of us, knowing good and evil. He must not be allowed to “Abraham Tested”
reach out his hand and take also from the tree of life and eat, and live
forever.” 23 So the Lord God banished him from the Garden of Eden
to work the ground from which he had been taken. 24 After he drove
the man out, he placed on the east side[n] of the Garden of Eden 22 Some time later God tested Abraham. He said to him, “Abraham!”
cherubim and a flaming sword flashing back and forth to guard the
way to the tree of life. “Here I am,” he replied.

- End of Genesis 1-3 - 2 Then God said, “Take your son, your only son, whom you love—
Isaac—and go to the region of Moriah. Sacrifice him there as a burnt
offering on a mountain I will show you.”

3 Early the next morning Abraham got up and loaded his donkey. He
took with him two of his servants and his son Isaac. When he had cut
enough wood for the burnt offering, he set out for the place God had
told him about. 4 On the third day Abraham looked up and saw the
place in the distance. 5 He said to his servants, “Stay here with the
donkey while I and the boy go over there. We will worship and then
we will come back to you.”

6 Abraham took the wood for the burnt offering and placed it on his
son Isaac, and he himself carried the fire and the knife. As the two of
them went on together, 7 Isaac spoke up and said to his father
Abraham, “Father?”

“Yes, my son?” Abraham replied.

“The fire and wood are here,” Isaac said, “but where is the lamb for
the burnt offering?”

8 Abraham answered, “God himself will provide the lamb for the burnt
offering, my son.” And the two of them went on together.

\
9 When they reached the place God had told him about, Abraham
built an altar there and arranged the wood on it. He bound his son
Isaac and laid him on the altar, on top of the wood. 10 Then he
reached out his hand and took the knife to slay his son. 11 But the
angel of the Lord called out to him from heaven, “Abraham!
Abraham!”
“Here I am,” he replied.
12 “Do not lay a hand on the boy,” he said. “Do not do anything to
him. Now I know that you fear God, because you have not withheld
from me your son, your only son.”
13 Abraham looked up and there in a thicket he saw a ram[a] caught
by its horns. He went over and took the ram and sacrificed it as a
burnt offering instead of his son. 14 So Abraham called that place
The Lord Will Provide. And to this day it is said, “On the mountain of
the Lord it will be provided.”
15 The angel of the Lord called to Abraham from heaven a second
time 16 and said, “I swear by myself, declares the Lord, that because
you have done this and have not withheld your son, your only son, 17
I will surely bless you and make your descendants as numerous as
the stars in the sky and as the sand on the seashore. Your
descendants will take possession of the cities of their enemies, 18
and through your offspring[b] all nations on earth will be blessed,[c]
because you have obeyed me.”
19 Then Abraham returned to his servants, and they set off together
for Beersheba. And Abraham stayed in Beersheba.
- End of Genesis 22:1-19 -
Luke 10: 25-37
The Parable of the Good Samaritan
25 On one occasion an expert in the law stood up to test
Jesus. “Teacher,” he asked, “what must I do to inherit eternal
life?”
26 “What is written in the Law?” he replied. “How do you read
it?”
27 He answered, “‘Love the Lord your God with all your heart
and with all your soul and with all your strength and with all
your mind’[a]; and, ‘Love your neighbor as yourself.’[b]”
28 “You have answered correctly,” Jesus replied. “Do this and
you will live.”
29 But he wanted to justify himself, so he asked Jesus, “And
who is my neighbor?”
30 In reply Jesus said: “A man was going down from
Jerusalem to Jericho, when he was attacked by robbers. They
stripped him of his clothes, beat him and went away, leaving
him half dead. 31 A priest happened to be going down the
same road, and when he saw the man, he passed by on the
other side. 32 So too, a Levite, when he came to the place and
saw him, passed by on the other side. 33 But a Samaritan, as
he traveled, came where the man was; and when he saw him,
he took pity on him. 34 He went to him and bandaged his
wounds, pouring on oil and wine. Then he put the man on his
own donkey, brought him to an inn and took care of him. 35
The next day he took out two denarii[c] and gave them to the
innkeeper. ‘Look after him,’ he said, ‘and when I return, I will
Psalm 23
reimburse you for any extra expense you may have.’

36 “Which of these three do you think was a neighbor to the A psalm of David
man who fell into the hands of robbers?”
1 The Lord is my shepherd, I lack nothing.
37 The expert in the law replied, “The one who had mercy on
him.” 2 He makes me lie down in green pastures,
he leads me beside quiet waters,
Jesus told him, “Go and do likewise.” 3 he refreshes my soul.
He guides me along the right paths
- End of Luke 10: 25- 37 -
for his name’s sake.
4 Even though I walk
through the darkest valley,[a]
I will fear no evil,
for you are with me;
your rod and your staff,
they comfort me.

5 You prepare a table before me

in the presence of my enemies.
You anoint my head with oil;
my cup overflows.
6 Surely your goodness and love will follow me
all the days of my life,
and I will dwell in the house of the Lord
forever.

- End of Psalm 23 -
-
Sonnet 29
William Shakespeare
When, in disgrace with fortune and men’s eyes,
I all alone beweep my outcast state,
And trouble deaf heaven with my bootless cries,
And look upon myself and curse my fate,
Wishing me like to one more rich in hope,
Featured like him, like him with friends
possessed,
Desiring this man’s art and that man’s scope,
With what I most enjoy contented least;
Yet in these thoughts myself almost despising,
Haply I think on thee, and then my state,
(Like to the lark at break of day arising
From sullen earth) sings hymns at heaven’s gate;
For thy sweet love remembered such wealth
brings
That then I scorn to change my state with
kings.
- End of Sonnet 29 -
On His Blindness
John Milton
When I consider how my light is spent,
Ere half my days, in this dark world and wide,
And that one Talent which is death to hide
Lodged with me useless, though my Soul
more bent
To serve therewith my Maker, and present
My true account, lest he returning chide;
"Doth God exact day-labour, light denied?"
I fondly ask. But patience, to prevent
That murmur, soon replies, "God doth not
need
Either man's work or his own gifts; who best
Bear his mild yoke, they serve him best. His
state
Is Kingly. Thousands at his bidding speed
And post o'er Land and Ocean without rest:
They also serve who only stand and wait.”
- End of On His Blindness -
The Highwayman
Alfred Noyes
PART ONE
The wind was a torrent of darkness among the gusty trees.
The moon was a ghostly galleon tossed upon cloudy seas.
The road was a ribbon of moonlight over the purple moor,
And the highwayman came riding—
Riding—riding—
The highwayman came riding, up to the old inn-door.
He’d a French cocked-hat on his forehead, a bunch of lace at his
chin,
A coat of the claret velvet, and breeches of brown doe-skin.
They fitted with never a wrinkle. His boots were up to the thigh.
And he rode with a jewelled twinkle,
His pistol butts a-twinkle,
His rapier hilt a-twinkle, under the jewelled sky.
Over the cobbles he clattered and clashed in the dark inn-yard.
He tapped with his whip on the shutters, but all was locked and
barred.
He whistled a tune to the window, and who should be waiting there
But the landlord’s black-eyed daughter,
Bess, the landlord’s daughter,
Plaiting a dark red love-knot into her long black hair.
And dark in the dark old inn-yard a stable-wicket creaked
Where Tim the ostler listened. His face was white and peaked.
His eyes were hollows of madness, his hair like mouldy hay,
But he loved the landlord’s daughter,
The landlord’s red-lipped daughter.
Dumb as a dog he listened, and he heard the robber say—
“One kiss, my bonny sweetheart, I’m after a prize to-night,
But I shall be back with the yellow gold before the morning light;
Yet, if they press me sharply, and harry me through the day,
Then look for me by moonlight,
Watch for me by moonlight,
I’ll come to thee by moonlight, though hell should bar the way.”
He rose upright in the stirrups. He scarce could reach her hand,
But she loosened her hair in the casement. His face burnt like a
brand
As the black cascade of perfume came tumbling over his breast;
And he kissed its waves in the moonlight,
(O, sweet black waves in the moonlight!)
Then he tugged at his rein in the moonlight, and galloped away to the
west.
PART TWO
He did not come in the dawning. He did not come at noon;
And out of the tawny sunset, before the rise of the moon,
When the road was a gypsy’s ribbon, looping the purple moor,
A red-coat troop came marching—
Marching—marching—
King George’s men came marching, up to the old inn-door.
They said no word to the landlord. They drank his ale instead.
But they gagged his daughter, and bound her, to the foot of her
narrow bed.
Two of them knelt at her casement, with muskets at their side!
There was death at every window;
And hell at one dark window;
For Bess could see, through her casement, the road that he would
ride.
They had tied her up to attention, with many a sniggering jest.
They had bound a musket beside her, with the muzzle beneath her
breast!
“Now, keep good watch!” and they kissed her. She heard the doomed
man say—
Look for me by moonlight;
Watch for me by moonlight;
I’ll come to thee by moonlight, though hell should bar the way!
She twisted her hands behind her; but all the knots held good!
She writhed her hands till her fingers were wet with sweat or blood!
They stretched and strained in the darkness, and the hours crawled
by like years
Till, now, on the stroke of midnight,
Cold, on the stroke of midnight,
The tip of one finger touched it! The trigger at least was hers!
The tip of one finger touched it. She strove no more for the rest.
Up, she stood up to attention, with the muzzle beneath her breast.
She would not risk their hearing; she would not strive again;
For the road lay bare in the moonlight;
Blank and bare in the moonlight;
And the blood of her veins, in the moonlight, throbbed to her love’s
refrain.
Tlot-tlot; tlot-tlot! Had they heard it? The horsehoofs ringing clear;
Tlot-tlot; tlot-tlot, in the distance? Were they deaf that they did not
hear?
Down the ribbon of moonlight, over the brow of the hill,
The highwayman came riding—
Riding—riding—
The red coats looked to their priming! She stood up, straight and still.
Tlot-tlot, in the frosty silence! Tlot-tlot, in the echoing night!
Nearer he came and nearer. Her face was like a light.
Her eyes grew wide for a moment; she drew one last deep breath,
Then her finger moved in the moonlight,
Her musket shattered the moonlight,
Shattered her breast in the moonlight and warned him—with her
death.
He turned. He spurred to the west; he did not know who stood
Bowed, with her head o’er the musket, drenched with her own blood!
Not till the dawn he heard it, and his face grew grey to hear
How Bess, the landlord’s daughter,
The landlord’s black-eyed daughter,
Had watched for her love in the moonlight, and died in the darkness
there.
Back, he spurred like a madman, shrieking a curse to the sky,
With the white road smoking behind him and his rapier brandished
high.
Blood red were his spurs in the golden noon; wine-red was his velvet
coat;
When they shot him down on the highway,
Down like a dog on the highway,
And he lay in his blood on the highway, with a bunch of lace at his
throat.
. . .
And still of a winter’s night, they say, when the wind is in the trees,
When the moon is a ghostly galleon tossed upon cloudy seas,
When the road is a ribbon of moonlight over the purple moor,
A highwayman comes riding—
Riding—riding—
A highwayman comes riding, up to the old inn-door.
Over the cobbles he clatters and clangs in the dark inn-yard.
He taps with his whip on the shutters, but all is locked and barred.
He whistles a tune to the window, and who should be waiting there
But the landlord’s black-eyed daughter,
Bess, the landlord’s daughter,
Plaiting a dark red love-knot into her long black hair.
- End of The Highwayman -
Lord Randall Get Up and Bar the
Anonymous Door
“Oh where ha’e ye been, Lord Randall my son? Traditional Ballads
O where ha’e ye been, my handsome young man?”
“I ha’e been to the wild wood: mother, make my bed soon,
For I’m weary wi’ hunting, and fain wald lie down.” IT fell about the Martinmas time,
And a gay time it was then,
“Where gat ye your dinner, Lord Randall my son? When our good wife got puddings to make,
Where gat ye your dinner, my handsome young man?” And she’s boild them in the pan.
“I dined wi’ my true love; mother, make my bed soon,
For I’m weary wi’ hunting, and fain wald lie down.” The wind sae cauld blew south and north, 5
And blew into the floor;
“What gat ye to your dinner, Lord Randall my son? Quoth our goodman to our goodwife,
What gat ye to your dinner, my handsome young man?” “Gae 1 out and bar the door.”
“I gat eels boiled in broo: mother, make my bed soon,
For I’m weary wi’ hunting, and fain wald lie down.” “My hand is in my hussyfskap, 2
Goodman, as ye may see; 10
“What became of your bloodhounds, Lord Randall my son? An it shoud nae be barrd this hundred year,
What became of your bloodhounds, my handsome young It’s no be barrd for me.”
man?”
“O they swelled and they died: mother, make my bed soon, They made a paction tween them twa,
for I’m weary wi’ hunting, and fain wald lie down.” They made it firm and sure,
That the first word whaeer shoud speak, 15
“O I fear ye are poisoned, Lord Randall my son! Shoud rise and bar the door.
O I fear ye are poisoned, my handsome young man!”
“O yes, I am poisoned: mother, make my bed soon, Then by there came two gentlemen,
For I’m sick at the heart, and I fain wald lie down.” At twelve o’clock at night,
And they could neither see house nor hall,
- End of Lord Randall - Nor coal nor candle-light. 20

“Now whether is this a rich man’s house,

 Or whether is it a poor?”
But neer a word wad ane o them speak,
For barring of the door.
And first they ate the white puddings,
And then they ate the black;
Tho muckle thought the goodwife to hersel,
Yet neer a word she spake.
Then said the one unto the other,
“Here, man, tak ye my knife; 30
Do ye tak aff the auld man’s beard,
And I’ll kiss the goodwife.”
“But there’s nae water in the house,
And what shall we do than?”
“What ails thee at the pudding-broo, 3
That boils into the pan?”
O up then started our goodman,
An angry man was he:
“Will ye kiss my wife before my een,
And scad 4 me wi pudding-bree?” 40
Then up and started our goodwife,
Gied three skips on the floor:
“Goodman, you’ve spoken the foremost word,
Get up and bar the door.”
- End of Get Up and Bar The Door -
Richard Cory
25
Edwin A. Robinson
Whenever Richard Cory went down town,
We people on the pavement looked at him:
He was a gentleman from sole to crown,
Clean favored, and imperially slim.
And he was always quietly arrayed,
And he was always human when he talked;
35 But still he fluttered pulses when he said,
"Good-morning," and he glittered when he walked.
And he was rich—yes, richer than a king—
And admirably schooled in every grace:
In fine, we thought that he was everything
To make us wish that we were in his place.
So on we worked, and waited for the light,
And went without the meat, and cursed the bread;
And Richard Cory, one calm summer night,
Went home and put a bullet through his head.
- End of Richard Cory -

The Wife of Usher’s
Well
Anonymous
There lived a wife at Usher’s Well,
And a wealthy wife was she;
She had three stout and stalwart sons,
And sent them o’er the sea.
They hadna been a week from her,
A week but barely ane,
Whan word came to the carlin wife
That her three sons were gane.
They hadna been a week from her,
A week but barely three,
Whan word came to the carlin wife
That her sons she’d never see.
‘I wish the wind may never cease,
Nor fashes in the flood,
Till my three sons come hame to me,
In earthly flesh and blood.’
It fell about the Martinmass,
When nights are lang and mirk,
The carlin wife’s three sons came hame,
And their hats were o’ the birk.
It neither grew in skye nor ditch,
Nor yet in any sheugh;
But at the gates o’ Paradise,
That birk grew fair eneugh.
‘Blow up the fire, my maidens,
Bring water from the well;
For a’ my house shall feast this night,
Since my three sons are well.’
And she has made to them a bed,
She’s made it large and wide,
And she’s ta’en her mantle her about,
Sat down at the bed-side.
Up then crew the red, red cock,
And up and crew the gray;
The eldest to the youngest said,
‘Tis time we were away.’
The cock he hadna crawd but once,
And clapped his wings at a’,
When the youngest to the eldest said,
‘Brother, we must awa.’
‘The cock doth craw, the day doth daw,
The channerin’ worm doth chide;
Gin we be mist out o’ our place,
A sair pair we maun bide.’
‘Fare ye weel, my mother dear!
Fareweel to barn and byre!
And fare ye weel, the bonny lass
God Sees the Truth,
That kindles my mother’s fire!’
But Waits
- End of The Wife of Usher’s Well -
Leo Tolstoy

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God Sees the Truth, But Waits

In the town of Vladimir lived a young merchant named Ivan
Dmitrich Aksionov. He had two shops and a house of his own.

Aksionov was a handsome, fair-haired, curly-headed fellow, full

of fun, and very fond of singing. When quite a young man he
had been given to drink, and was riotous when he had had too
much; but after he married he gave up drinking, except now
and then.

One summer Aksionov was going to the Nizhny Fair, and as he

bade good-bye to his family, his wife said to him, "Ivan
Dmitrich, do not start to-day; I have had a bad dream about
you."
Aksionov laughed, and said, "You are afraid that when I get to
the fair I shall go on a spree."
His wife replied: "I do not know what I am afraid of; all I know is
that I had a bad dream. I dreamt you returned from the town,
and when you took off your cap I saw that your hair was quite
grey."
Aksionov laughed. "That's a lucky sign," said he. "See if I don't
sell out all my goods, and bring you some presents from the
fair."
So he said good-bye to his family, and drove away.
When he had travelled half-way, he met a merchant whom he
knew, and they put up at the same inn for the night. They had
some tea together, and then went to bed in adjoining rooms.
It was not Aksionov's habit to sleep late, and, wishing to travel
while it was still cool, he aroused his driver before dawn, and
told him to put in the horses.
Then he made his way across to the landlord of the inn (who
lived in a cottage at the back), paid his bill, and continued his
journey.
When he had gone about twenty-five miles, he stopped for the
horses to be fed. Aksionov rested awhile in the passage of the
inn, then he stepped out into the porch, and, ordering a
samovar to be heated, got out his guitar and began to play.
Suddenly a troika drove up with tinkling bells and an official
alighted, followed by two soldiers. He came to Aksionov and
began to question him, asking him who he was and whence he
came. Aksionov answered him fully, and said, "Won't you have
some tea with me?" But the official went on cross-questioning
him and asking him. "Where did you spend last night? Were
you alone, or with a fellow-merchant? Did you see the other
merchant this morning? Why did you leave the inn before
dawn?"
Aksionov wondered why he was asked all these questions, but
he described all that had happened, and then added, "Why do
you cross-question me as if I were a thief or a robber? I am
travelling on business of my own, and there is no need to
question me."
Then the official, calling the soldiers, said, "I am the police-
officer of this district, and I question you because the merchant
with whom you spent last night has been found with his throat
cut. We must search your things."
They entered the house. The soldiers and the police-officer
unstrapped Aksionov's luggage and searched it. Suddenly the
officer drew a knife out of a bag, crying, "Whose knife is this?"
Aksionov looked, and seeing a blood-stained knife taken from
his bag, he was frightened.
"How is it there is blood on this knife?"
Aksionov tried to answer, but could hardly utter a word, and
only stammered: "I--don't know--not mine." Then the police-
officer said: "This morning the merchant was found in bed with
his throat cut. You are the only person who could have done it.
The house was locked from inside, and no one else was there.
Here is this blood-stained knife in your bag and your face and
manner betray you! Tell me how you killed him, and how much
money you stole?"
Aksionov swore he had not done it; that he had not seen the
merchant after they had had tea together; that he had no
money except eight thousand rubles of his own, and that the
knife was not his. But his voice was broken, his face pale, and
he trembled with fear as though he went guilty.
The police-officer ordered the soldiers to bind Aksionov and to
put him in the cart. As they tied his feet together and flung him
into the cart, Aksionov crossed himself and wept. His money
and goods were taken from him, and he was sent to the
nearest town and imprisoned there. Enquiries as to his
character were made in Vladimir. The merchants and other
inhabitants of that town said that in former days he used to
drink and waste his time, but that he was a good man. Then
the trial came on: he was charged with murdering a merchant
from Ryazan, and robbing him of twenty thousand rubles.
His wife was in despair, and did not know what to believe. Her
children were all quite small; one was a baby at her breast.
Taking them all with her, she went to the town where her
husband was in jail. At first she was not allowed to see him; but
after much begging, she obtained permission from the officials,
and was taken to him. When she saw her husband in prison-
dress and in chains, shut up with thieves and criminals, she fell
down, and did not come to her senses for a long time. Then
she drew her children to her, and sat down near him. She told
him of things at home, and asked about what had happened to
him. He told her all, and she asked, "What can we do now?"
"We must petition the Czar not to let an innocent man perish."
His wife told him that she had sent a petition to the Czar, but it
had not been accepted.
Aksionov did not reply, but only looked downcast.
Then his wife said, "It was not for nothing I dreamt your hair
had turned grey. You remember? You should not have started
that day." And passing her fingers through his hair, she said:
"Vanya dearest, tell your wife the truth; was it not you who did
it?"
"So you, too, suspect me!" said Aksionov, and, hiding his face
in his hands, he began to weep. Then a soldier came to say
that the wife and children must go away; and Aksionov said
good-bye to his family for the last time.
When they were gone, Aksionov recalled what had been said,
and when he remembered that his wife also had suspected
him, he said to himself, "It seems that only God can know the
truth; it is to Him alone we must appeal, and from Him alone
expect mercy."
And Aksionov wrote no more petitions; gave up all hope, and
only prayed to God.
Aksionov was condemned to be flogged and sent to the mines.
So he was flogged with a knot, and when the wounds made by
the knot were healed, he was driven to Siberia with other
convicts.
For twenty-six years Aksionov lived as a convict in Siberia. His
hair turned white as snow, and his beard grew long, thin, and
grey. All his mirth went; he stooped; he walked slowly, spoke
little, and never laughed, but he often prayed.
In prison Aksionov learnt to make boots, and earned a little
money, with which he bought The Lives of the Saints. He read
this book when there was light enough in the prison; and on
Sundays in the prison-church he read the lessons and sang in
the choir; for his voice was still good.

The prison authorities liked Aksionov for his meekness, and his
fellow-prisoners respected him: they called him "Grandfather,"
and "The Saint." When they wanted to petition the prison
authorities about anything, they always made Aksionov their
spokesman, and when there were quarrels among the
prisoners they came to him to put things right, and to judge the
matter.
No news reached Aksionov from his home, and he did not
even know if his wife and children were still alive.
One day a fresh gang of convicts came to the prison. In the
evening the old prisoners collected round the new ones and
asked them what towns or villages they came from, and what
they were sentenced for. Among the rest Aksionov sat down
near the newcomers, and listened with downcast air to what
was said.
One of the new convicts, a tall, strong man of sixty, with a
closely-cropped grey beard, was telling the others what be had
been arrested for.
"Well, friends," he said, "I only took a horse that was tied to a
sledge, and I was arrested and accused of stealing. I said I had
only taken it to get home quicker, and had then let it go;
besides, the driver was a personal friend of mine. So I said, 'It's
all right.' 'No,' said they, 'you stole it.' But how or where I stole it
they could not say. I once really did something wrong, and
ought by rights to have come here long ago, but that time I was
not found out. Now I have been sent here for nothing at all...
Eh, but it's lies I'm telling you; I've been to Siberia before, but I
did not stay long."
"Where are you from?" asked some one.
"From Vladimir. My family are of that town. My name is Makar,
and they also call me Semyonich."
Aksionov raised his head and said: "Tell me, Semyonich, do
you know anything of the merchants Aksionov of Vladimir? Are
they still alive?"
"Know them? Of course I do. The Aksionovs are rich, though
their father is in Siberia: a sinner like ourselves, it seems! As
for you, Gran'dad, how did you come here?"
Aksionov did not like to speak of his misfortune. He only
sighed, and said, "For my sins I have been in prison these
twenty-six years."
"What sins?" asked Makar Semyonich.
But Aksionov only said, "Well, well--I must have deserved it!"
He would have said no more, but his companions told the
newcomers how Aksionov came to be in Siberia; how some
one had killed a merchant, and had put the knife among
Aksionov's things, and Aksionov had been unjustly
condemned.
When Makar Semyonich heard this, he looked at Aksionov,
slapped his own knee, and exclaimed, "Well, this is wonderful!
Really wonderful! But how old you've grown, Gran'dad!"
The others asked him why he was so surprised, and where he
had seen Aksionov before; but Makar Semyonich did not reply.
He only said: "It's wonderful that we should meet here, lads!"
These words made Aksionov wonder whether this man knew
who had killed the merchant; so he said, "Perhaps, Semyonich,
you have heard of that affair, or maybe you've seen me
before?"
"How could I help hearing? The world's full of rumours. But it's
a long time ago, and I've forgotten what I heard."
"Perhaps you heard who killed the merchant?" asked Aksionov.
Makar Semyonich laughed, and replied: "It must have been
him in whose bag the knife was found! If some one else hid the
knife there, 'He's not a thief till he's caught,' as the saying is.
How could any one put a knife into your bag while it was under
your head? It would surely have woke you up."
When Aksionov heard these words, he felt sure this was the
man who had killed the merchant. He rose and went away. All
that night Aksionov lay awake. He felt terribly unhappy, and all
sorts of images rose in his mind. There was the image of his
wife as she was when he parted from her to go to the fair. He
saw her as if she were present; her face and her eyes rose
before him; he heard her speak and laugh. Then he saw his
children, quite little, as they: were at that time: one with a little
cloak on, another at his mother's breast. And then he
remembered himself as he used to be-young and merry. He
remembered how he sat playing the guitar in the porch of the
inn where he was arrested, and how free from care he had
been. He saw, in his mind, the place where he was flogged, the
executioner, and the people standing around; the chains, the
convicts, all the twenty-six years of his prison life, and his
premature old age. The thought of it all made him so wretched
that he was ready to kill himself.
"And it's all that villain's doing!" thought Aksionov. And his
anger was so great against Makar Semyonich that he longed
for vengeance, even if he himself should perish for it. He kept
repeating prayers all night, but could get no peace. During the
day he did not go near Makar Semyonich, nor even look at
him.
A fortnight passed in this way. Aksionov could not sleep at
night, and was so miserable that he did not know what to do.
One night as he was walking about the prison he noticed some
earth that came rolling out from under one of the shelves on
which the prisoners slept. He stopped to see what it was.
Suddenly Makar Semyonich crept out from under the shelf,
and looked up at Aksionov with frightened face. Aksionov tried
to pass without looking at him, but Makar seized his hand and
told him that he had dug a hole under the wall, getting rid of the
earth by putting it into his high-boots, and emptying it out every
day on the road when the prisoners were driven to their work.
"Just you keep quiet, old man, and you shall get out too. If you
blab, they'll flog the life out of me, but I will kill you first."
Aksionov trembled with anger as he looked at his enemy. He
drew his hand away, saying, "I have no wish to escape, and
you have no need to kill me; you killed me long ago! As to
telling of you--I may do so or not, as God shall direct."
Next day, when the convicts were led out to work, the convoy
soldiers noticed that one or other of the prisoners emptied
some earth out of his boots. The prison was searched and the
tunnel found. The Governor came and questioned all the
prisoners to find out who had dug the hole. They all denied any
knowledge of it. Those who knew would not betray Makar
Semyonich, knowing he would be flogged almost to death. At
last the Governor turned to Aksionov whom he knew to be a
just man, and said:
"You are a truthful old man; tell me, before God, who dug the
hole?"
Makar Semyonich stood as if he were quite unconcerned,
looking at the Governor and not so much as glancing at
Aksionov. Aksionov's lips and hands trembled, and for a long
time he could not utter a word. He thought, "Why should I
screen him who ruined my life? Let him pay for what I have
suffered. But if I tell, they will probably flog the life out of him,
and maybe I suspect him wrongly. And, after all, what good
would it be to me?"
"Well, old man," repeated the Governor, "tell me the truth: who
has been digging under the wall?"
Aksionov glanced at Makar Semyonich, and said, "I cannot
say, your honour. It is not God's will that I should tell! Do what
you like with me; I am your hands."
However much the Governor! tried, Aksionov would say no
more, and so the matter had to be left.
That night, when Aksionov was lying on his bed and just
beginning to doze, some one came quietly and sat down on his
bed. He peered through the darkness and recognised Makar.
"What more do you want of me?" asked Aksionov. "Why have
you come here?"
Makar Semyonich was silent. So Aksionov sat up and said,
"What do you want? Go away, or I will call the guard!"
Makar Semyonich bent close over Aksionov, and whispered,
"Ivan Dmitrich, forgive me!"
"What for?" asked Aksionov.
"It was I who killed the merchant and hid the knife among your
things. I meant to kill you too, but I heard a noise outside, so I
hid the knife in your bag and escaped out of the window."
Aksionov was silent, and did not know what to say. Makar
Semyonich slid off the bed-shelf and knelt upon the ground.
"Ivan Dmitrich," said he, "forgive me! For the love of God,
forgive me! I will confess that it was I who killed the merchant,
and you will be released and can go to your home."
"It is easy for you to talk," said Aksionov, "but I have suffered
for you these twenty-six years. Where could I go to now?... My
wife is dead, and my children have forgotten me. I have
nowhere to go..."
Makar Semyonich did not rise, but beat his head on the floor.
"Ivan Dmitrich, forgive me!" he cried. "When they flogged me
with the knot it was not so hard to bear as it is to see you
now ... yet you had pity on me, and did not tell. For Christ's
sake forgive me, wretch that I am!" And he began to sob.
When Aksionov heard him sobbing he, too, began to weep.
"God will forgive you!" said he. "Maybe I am a hundred times
worse than you." And at these words his heart grew light, and
the longing for home left him. He no longer had any desire to
leave the prison, but only hoped for his last hour to come.
In spite of what Aksionov had said, Makar Semyonich
confessed, his guilt. But when the order for his release came,
Aksionov was already dead.
- End of God Sees the Truth, But Waits -