Why, then, let him do it! 440
The right kind of Elder
He is for his Barin,
They make a fine pair!
Like putty his conscience;
Like Meenin's[41] his beard,
So that looking upon him
You'd think a sedater,
More dutiful peasant
Could never be found.
The heirs made his kaftan, 450
And he put it on,
And from Klimka the 'scapegrace'
He suddenly changed
Into Klim, Son-of-Jacob,[42]
Most worthy of Elders.
So that's how it is;--
And to our great misfortune
The Barin is ordered
A carriage-drive daily.
Each day through the village 460
He drives in a carriage
That's built upon springs.
Then up you jump, quickly,
And whip off your hat,
And, God knows for what reason,
He'll jump down your throat,
He'll upbraid and abuse you;
But you must keep silent.
He watches a peasant
At work in the fields, 470
And he swears we are lazy
And lie-abed sluggards
(Though never worked peasant
With half such a will
In the time of the Barin).
He has not a notion
That they are not _his_ fields,
But ours. When we gather
We laugh, for each peasant
Has something to tell 480
Of the crazy Pomyeshchick;
His ears burn, I warrant,
When we come together!
And Klim, Son-of-Jacob,
Will run, with the manner
Of bearing the commune
Some news of importance
(The pig has got proud
Since he's taken to scratching
His sides on the steps 490
Of the nobleman's manor).
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