I
Simon was a poor shoemaker. He rented a peasant's
hut,
and lived with his wife and children. His pay was
low,
but bread was expensive. He spent the money he earned
on
food. Simon and his wife had only one sheepskin coat
between
them for winter wear. And that was torn and old.
This
was the second year that he had wanted to buy
sheepskins
for a new coat. Before winter, Simon saved up a
little
money: a tree ruble note lay hidden in his wife's
box,
and five rubles and twenty kopecks were owed to him
by
customers in the village.
So one morning, he prepared
to
go to the village to buy sheepskins for his coat.
He
put on his shirt, then his wife's jacket, and over
that
he put his own cloth coat. He put the three-ruble
note
in his pocket, and set off after breakfast. "I'll collect
the
five rubles that are owed to me," he thought, "add
that
to the three I have, and that will be enough
to
buy sheepskins for the winter coat."
He came to
the
village and visited a peasant's hut, but the man was
not
home. The pwasant's wife promised that the money would be
paid
next week, but she could not pay it herself. Then
Simon
called on another peasant, but his one swore he had
no
money, and could only pay twenty kopecks of what he
owed
Simon for the pair of boots he had mended. Simon
then
tried to buy the sheepskins on credit, but the dealer
did
not trust him.
"Bring your money," the dealer said,
"then
you can pick the best skins we have. We don't
enjoy
debt-collecting." So all the business the shoemaker did was to
get
twenty kopecks for shoes he had mended, and to take
home
a pair of felt boots a peasant had given him
to
repair.
Simon felt downhearted. He spent the twenty kopecks
on
vodka, and headed for home without having bought any skins.
In
the morning he had felt the frost, but now, after
drinking
vodka, he felt warm, even without a sheepskin coat. He
walked
slowly, stringing a stink on the frozen earth with one
hand,
swinging the felt boots with the other, and talking to
himself.
"I'm quite warm," he said, "though I have no sheepskin coat. I've had some vodka, and it runs in my veins. I don't need a sheepskin. I don't need anything. That's the sort of man I am! I can live without sheepskins. I don't need them. My wife will worry, that's for sure. And it really is a same-I work all day then don't get paid. Hang on a minute!
If you don't give my my money, I'll skin you, not a sheep. I mean it. How's that? He pays twenty kopecks at a time! What can I do with twenty kopecks? Drink it - that's all I can do! He says he's broke! It may be true, but what about me? You have a house and cattle and everything. I've only got these clothes I wear. You raise your own corn, but I have to buy every grain. I have to spend three rubles on bread alone every week. I come home and find all the bread used up, and I have to pay out another ruble and a half. So just pay me what you owe, and stop fooling around!"
By this time, he had nearly reached the
chapel.
he looked up and noticed something white behind it. The
daylight
was fading, and the shoemaker peered at the thing, but
couldn't
tell what it was. "There was no white stone there
before.
Can it be an ox? It has a head like
a
man, but it's too white. And what would a man
be
doing here?"
He came closer, and saw to his
surprise
that it really was a man. Alive or dead, he
was
sitting naked, leaning motionless against the chapel. Terror seized the
shoemaker.
He thought, "Someone has killed him, strpped him, and left
him
there. If I get involved, I shall surely get into
trouble."
So the shoemaker went on. He passed in front
of
the chapel so that he could not see thae man.
After
Simon had passed, he looked back, and saw that the
man
was no longer leaning against the chapel, but was looking
toward
him. The shoemaker felt more frightened than before, and thought,
"Shall
I go back to him, or shall I go on?
If
I go near him, something dreadful might happen. Who knows
who
the fellow is? If I go near him, he may
jump
up and strangle me. And if he doesn't attack me,
he'll
become a problem for me. What can I do with
a
naked man? I can't give him my last clothes. I
must
get away."
So the shoemaker hurried on, leaving the
chapel
behind him. Suddenly, his conscience struck him, and he stopped
in
the road.
"What are you doing, Simon?" he said
to
himself. "That man may be dying, and you sneak past
afraid.
Are you so rich that you are afraid of robbers?
Ah,
Simon, shame on you."
So he turned back and
went
up to the man.
