own land and that of the estate for the
pasturage. Instead of being poor, they were the
richest in the district, and none could have paid
a higher obrok. But they had never paid much
under the old proprietor, and they would not, if
cunning could save their pockets, under the
new.

The lady remained under her delusion for a
year. When the time came for the obrok to
be paid in, a scene similar to the first, which had
been so successful, was again enacted. The
winter had been severe; the summer rains had
not come; the rot, or something else, had got
amongst the pigs and poultry; the crops of
everything were nothing; they were all nearly
starving; they could not pay any of the ten
roubles; her high-born ladyship might come
and see for herself; she might take all they
had, but the obrok in money they could not pay.
(Not a word was said about horses.)

Again the trick succeeded. The other estate
afforded means of living; this estate might
improve with a little patience and kindness; and
the kind woman not only forgave the whole
year's obrok, but reduced it to five roubles for
the next year. "Only remember, starost, this
is my last step in that direction. If this five
roubles each is not paid in good time, and if
you assemble these people again without the
money in their hands, I will sell the place and
leave you. I will not struggle and fight, to get
my money. I wish to be kind to you, but I
must live, and it is a shame to you that I have
to draw all my means from other poor serfs, who
are perhaps as poor as you."

There is nothing more certain than that if you
give a Russian serf an inch, he will take an ell.
The next year came, and the five roubles did
not. The poverty trick was again rehearsed,
but this time her high-born ladyship dismissed
the people with pain and anger, advertised the
estate for sale, and, as she had threatened,
sold it. All the horse-dealing "souls" on it,
their wives and children, horses, cattle, goods
and chattels, became the property of a certain
Gospodin Popoff, who had spent the greater part
of his life in official service on a salary of some
forty-five or sixty roubles per month, and who
had managed to live up to three hundred roubles,
and to save money enough to buy the White
Village at twenty thousand roubles.

Herr Hausen—the steward whom Madame
Obrassoff allowed to leave her—was appointed
by Gospodin Popoff; for this steward had kept
his eye on the estate ever since, knew more by
this time of its capabilities, and felt chagrined
at having been outwitted and driven away by
the cunning old starost.

His first act indicated what was to be
expected now. The venerable old starost, and
twenty of the principal peasants, were seized on
their first repetition of the poverty farce, and
received a very liberal supply of "stick." The
stanavoy's men kept the stick going for half a
day, and were well paid to lay it on hard: while
Herr Hausen smiled complacently. This was
the first turning of the tables, and they went on
running round from bad to worse. Each serf was
served with a demand for three years' arrears of
obrok, passport-money and taxes, at a high rate.
Failing to pay on the instant, the secret studs of
horses and the more apparent goods of every
kind, were appropriated and sold without the
least compunction. The peasants were not
allowed to leave the village, but were driven to
work on the fields. Having formerly attended
to nothing but horse-dealing, they were now
almost destitute of the kind of produce necessary
to human life. The old and infirm had to
chop wood for the steward, the children gathered
oak nuts and cut grass in the woods, for his
cows and pigs; his barns, stables, and store-houses,
filled as those of the peasants emptied.
He became corpulent in substance as they grew
lean and gaunt and hungry.

A sum equivalent to the purchase-money of
the estate had already been realised; but this
was not thought sufficient by Herr Hausen and
his principal. They had not yet found any
money; and money in hard cash there must be
somewhere. Domiciliary visits had been made,
the floors of the huts had been dug up, and
every place the searchers could think of had
been explored without success. At length, a
Jew: one of those prowling sharp-featured wiry
little fellows, who carry trinkets, gaudy-coloured
prints, handkerchiefs, and money, to exchange
for corn, flax, feathers, and other peasant
produce, at a profit of eight hundred per cent or so:
gave a hint to Herr Hausen for a per-centage
on the money found. Measures were taken
accordingly, and one day these peasants—already
shorn to the bone of everything else—were
deprived of their nest-egg. Where it was found,
or how much it was, I did not hear, but hard
bullion to a considerable amount was transferred
to the iron safe in the strong-room of the
steward's house. The peasants were now poorer
a thousand times, than they had ever wished the
kind generalshe to believe them.

What follows of the story I had partly from
the old starost as he lay in his hut dying from
a gun-shot wound, and partly from Lucy Murray
at an after time.

One evening, four men stood at the end of a
hut shaking something in a felt hat. One of
them put his hand in and drew; he told the
result, and the operation was repeated. Then
the four separated and took different paths
through the village, saying a few words quietly
at every door. It was a cold clear night, soon
after twilight, and the moon had risen in an
almost cloudless sky. Just as the old starost
passed the steward's gate, he met little Lucy
Murray going in.

"How do you do, starost? I hope your
health is good. Good night. I must run to
the house."

"Stay, maiden with the golden hair and the
laughing eyes, tell me who there is now in
yonder house besides the steward and his."

"Madame Obrassoff and her daughter sleep
there to-night. You know we came for the last
instalment of the purchase-money of the estate."