“Brothers, let us do our business without cheating.
If we will only live honestly, how happy and peaceful we shall be, eh?
Shall we not, dear people?”
His blue eyes darkened, grew moist; at that moment he looked wonderfully handsome. His question seemed to have upset them all; they all turned away from him in confusion.
“A peasant does not cheat much,” grumbled good-looking Osip with a sigh, as if he pitied the peasant.
The dark bricklayer, bending his round-shouldered back over the table, said thickly:
“Sin is like a sort of bog; the farther you go, the more swampy it gets!”
And the master said to them, as if he were making a speech:
“What about me?
I go into it because something calls me. Though I don’t want to.”
After this philosophising they again tried to get the better of one another, but when they had finished their accounts, perspiring and tired from the effort, they went out to the tavern to drink tea, inviting the master to go with them.
On the market-place it was my duty to watch these people, to see that they did not steal nails, or bricks, or boards. Every one of them, in addition to my master’s work, held contracts of his own, and would try to steal something for his own work under my very nose.
They welcomed me kindly, and Shishlin said:
“Do you remember how you wanted to come into my gang?
And look at you now; put over me as chief!”
“Well, well,” said Osip bantcringly, “keep watch over the river-banks, and may God help you!”
Petr observed in an unfriendly tone:
“They have put a young crane to watch old mice.”
My duties were a cruel trial to me. I felt ashamed in the presence of these people. They all seemd to possess some special knowledge which was hidden from the rest of the world, and I had to watch them as if they had been thieves and tricksters.
The first part of the time it was very hard for me, but Osip soon noticed this, and one day he said to me privately:
“Look here, young fellow, you won’t do any good by sulking — understand?”
Of course I did not understand, but I felt that he realized the absurdity of my position, and I soon arrived at a frank understanding with him.
He took me aside in a corner and explained:
“If you want to know, the biggest thief among us is the bricklayer, Petrukha. He is a man with a large family, and he is greedy.
You want to watch him well. Nothing is too small for him; everything comes in handy. A pound of nails, a dozen of bricks, a bag of mortar — he’ll take all.
He is a good man. God-fearing, of severe ideas, and well educated, but he loves to steal!
Ephimushka lives like a woman. He is peaceable, and is harmless as far as you are concerned.
He is clever, too — humpbacks are never fools!
And there’s Gregory Shishlin. He has a fad — he will neither take from others nor give of his own.
He works for nothing; any one can take him in, but he can deceive no one.
He is not governed by his reason.”
“He is good, then?”
Osip looked at me as if I were a long way from him, and uttered these memorable words:
“True enough, he is good.
To be good is the easiest way for lazy people. To be good, my boy, does not need brains.”
“And what about you?” I asked Osip.
He laughed and answered:
“I? I am like a young girl. When I am a grandmother I will tell you all about myself; till then you will have to wait.
In the meanwhile you can set your brains to work to find out where the real T is hidden. Find out; that is what you have to do!”
He had upset all my ideas of himself and his friends.
It was difficult for me to doubt the truth of his statement. I saw that Ephimushka, Petr, and Gregory regarded the handsome old man as more clever and more learned in worldly wisdom than themselves. They took counsel with him about everything, listened attentively to his advice, and showed him every sign of respect.
“Will you be so good as to give us your advice,” they would ask him. But after one of these questions, when Osip had gone away, the bricklayer said softly to Grigori:
“Heretic!”
And Grigori burst out laughing and added:
“Clown!”
The plasterer warned me in a friendly way:
“You look out for yourself with the old man, Maximich. You must be careful, or he will twist you round his finger in an hour; he is a bitter old man. God save you from the harm he can do.” “What harm?” “That I can’t say!” answered the handsome workman, blinking.
I did not understand him in the least.
I thought that the most honest and pious man of them all was the bricklayer, Petr; He spoke of everything briefly, suggestively; his thoughts rested mostly upon God, hell, and death.
“Ekh! my children, my brothers, how can you not be afraid”? How can you not look forward, when the grave and the churchyard let no one pass them?”