A priest, who was married and had two daughters, had engaged a man-servant. In the spring, he wished to make a pilgrimage. ‘Look here, friend,’ he said to this man before leaving. ‘You must by my return have dug up all the kitchen garden, and made the flower-beds.’ ‘Very good, batouchka [little father (a hypocoristic often applied to priests)].’ During the absence of his master, the man did scarcely any work in the garden; at the most he had but turned over a bit of ground here and there with a pick; the greater part of the time he had spent in idle amusement.
When he returned home, the priest went with his wife to visit the kitchen-garden, and found it almost as he had left it. ‘Friend, don’t you know how to dig a garden?’—‘No. The fact is, I don’t know. If I had known how I would have done it.’—‘Very well, friend: you go to the house and ask my daughters for a spade, and I will show you how to dig.’ The man went to the parsonage, and said point-blank to his master’s daughters, ‘Young ladies, your father orders you both to give me your...’—‘What?’—‘You know what! “It!”’ The priest’s daughters rated him soundly. ‘There is no cause to abuse me. The batouchka wants you to make haste, as I must not waste my time here: I have all the garden-beds to dig. If you don’t believe me, ask him yourselves.’
One of the two sisters ran out on the steps. ‘Batouchka!’ she cried, ‘did you order me to give that to the manservant?’—‘Yes, give it to him quickly; why are you keeping him?’—‘Well, sister,’ said the girl as she returned into the room, ‘there is nothing for it but to obey, since our father has ordered it.’ Then they both lay down, and the manservant did as he wished. Then he took a spade that was in the hall and ran to the kitchen-garden, where his master was awaiting him.
After he had shown the manservant how to dig up the beds, the priest returned to the house with his wife, and found both his daughters in tears. ‘Why are you weeping?’—‘How can we do otherwise, batouchka? You yourself ordered us to be outraged by the man-servant.’—‘What do you mean by ‘outraged?’’—‘Yes, you ordered us to give “it” to him...’—‘Well, what? I ordered you to give him a spade.’—‘A spade? He has dishonoured us both, and caused us to lose our innocence!’
On hearing these words, the priest flew into a violent rage; he seized a pickaxe, and ran straight off to the garden. The servant guessed that harm was intended him when he saw his master advancing toward him armed with a pickaxe, so he dropped his spade and ran away as fast as he could. The priest pursued him, but the man ran the faster, and was soon out of sight. Wishing to catch the scoundrel, the priest accosted a peasant he met on the road. ‘Good day, friend.’—‘Good day, batouchka.’—‘Have you met a manservant on the road?’—‘I don’t know: I passed a lad who was flying like an arrow.’—‘That is he! Come with me, moujik [Russian peasant], and help me to catch him, and I will reward you for your trouble.’—‘Willingly, batouchka.’ They started off together. A gypsy happened to pass. ‘Good day, gypsy,’ said the priest. ‘Good day, batouchka.’ —‘Have you passed a lad on your road?’—‘I saw one, batouchka, who passed by me with the speed of lightning.’—‘That’s the man! Help us to catch him and I will be grateful to you.’—‘ Willingly, batouchka.’ They all three started off together.
During this time the manservant had changed his clothes, and now presented himself to the priest in a fresh dress. The priest did not recognize him, and asked, ‘Well, friend, did you meet a moujik on the way?,—‘Yes, he took refuge in such-and-such a village.’— ‘Come, friend! Help us to find him!’—‘Willingly, batouchka.’ All four set off to look for the priest’s manservant. After walking all day, they arrived at a village, but they had still not caught the fugitive when night came on. Where were they to sleep? They came to a house where a widow lived, and asked her if they might stay there. ‘Good people,’ replied the widow, ‘there has been a flood in my house, and if you were to stay with me, you would stand a chance of being drowned! ’ But they pleaded so hard that she ended by giving them hospitality. It should be mentioned that the widow’s lover had promised to come and see her that night. The four men entered the izba [cottage, Russian peasant dwelling], and all settled themselves to sleep the best way they could. ‘Suppose there should be a flood?’ the priest said to himself. In case such a thing should occur, he placed a large trough on a table, and then got in it. ‘If a flood should happen,’ he thought, ‘the trough will float on the water.’ The gypsy lay on the hearth of the stove with his head in the ashes; the moujik stretched himself on a bench which was in front of the table; as to the priest’s servant, he took his place on a stool near the window.
As soon as they lay down, all the travellers closed their eyes. The servant was the only one who did not sleep. He heard someone approach the window; then he heard the words, ‘open, my love!’ It was the widow’s gallant who came to see her. The servant rose, opened the window, and said to the visitor, ‘Ah, my dear, you arrive very inopportunely. I have strangers lodging in my house. Come again tomorrow night.’—‘All right, my dear; but lean out of the window so that I may kiss you at least.’ The servant turned his back to the window and presented his backside to the lover, who covered it with kisses. ‘Adieu, dearest; I will come and see you tomorrow night. Take care of yourself.’—‘Come, my love; but before you leave, dearest, let me take your yard in my hands; that will be a solace for me.’ The lover lugged out his tool and approached the window. ‘Here it is, dear: caress it.’ The servant took in his hand the object which was presented to him, and caressed it several times; then, pulling his knife out of his pocket, he cut the genital parts of the gallant clean off. The lover uttered loud screams, and returned home more dead than alive.
The servant closed the window, sat on the bench, and began to wag his jaws as though he were eating something. The moujik, awakened by the noise, asked, ‘What are you eating, friend?’— ‘Oh, I found a piece of sausage on the table, but I cannot manage to eat it; it isn’t cooked.’—‘That doesn’t matter, friend; let me taste it.’—‘There is not too much for me; but never mind, I will give you a bit: enjoy it.’ And he gave the yard he had cut off to the moujik. He greedily put it in his mouth, but try as he might his teeth would make no impression on the supposed sausage. ‘I give up, friend,’ he said. ‘It can’t be eaten; it is raw meat.’—‘Well, put it in the stove, and when it is cooked, then you can eat it.’ The moujik approached the stove with the sausage, which he put in the gypsy’s mouth, and after having left it there a long time, he again tried to eat it. ‘No, it is impossible! This sausage is too raw; even the fire has no effect on it.’—‘Well, that will do, leave it there; because, you know, if the mistress of the house hears you, she will grumble. The fire must be spread about in the stove so that our hostess won’t see be able to what you’ve been doing; pour some water into it.’—‘But where shall I find some water?’—‘Oh, just piss on it; that’s better than going out into the courtyard anyway.’
The moujik followed this advice, and well watered the gypsy’s visage. This made the gypsy imagine that a flood was happening, and he cried with all his might, ‘Hallo, batouchka, we are being drowned!’ His cries awoke the priest, who immediately tried to set his improvised cradle afloat, and he and the trough came tumbling to the floor. ‘ Oh, Lord!’ groaned the priest, who had broken all his ribs, ‘when a little child tumbles, Providence puts a cushion under it to break its fall, but when the same accident happens to an old man, the devil puts a harrow under him. All my bones are broken. I am sure I shall never find my rascal of a servant.’—‘You would do well not to look for him any more,’ remarked the servant. ‘You had better go home and get your wounds dressed.’
A priest had hired a manservant, and said to him one morning: ‘We will have a bit to eat, and then we will go and thresh the wheat.’ They sat at table to eat a quick breakfast, and the priest’s wife brought three eggs; two for her husband, and one for the servant. The meal being finished, the two men went off to the barn, and each took a flail and began to work. But where the priest struck two blows, the servant struck but one. The priest noticed this, and was dissatisfied with the servant. ‘Is this a joke, friend? I thresh properly, but you only toy with your work. My flail does twice as much work as yours.’—‘Batouchka,’ replied the servant, ‘at breakfast you ate two eggs and I but one; that is why I have less strength.’—‘Why didn’t you say so before, friend? I would have ordered my wife to give you a second egg. Go to the house, and tell her to give you one, and when you have eaten it you can come back.’
The servant threw down his flail, ran to the izba, and said to the master’s wife: ‘Matouchka [little mother (colloquial)]! the priest orders you to give me one...’—‘Give you what?’—‘You can guess what; only hurry up about it, because the batouchka ordered me to return at once.’—‘Have you lost your senses, cursèd rogue? What are you saying?’—‘Oh, well, ask the priest himself if you do not believe me!’ The popadia [wife of a Russian Orthodox priest] went into the courtyard. ‘Batouchka!’ she cried, ‘do you want me to give that to the man?’—‘Haven’t you given it to him yet?’ replied the priest. ‘Make haste, do not detain him; he must come back and work.’ The popadia returned into the house. ‘No; you didn’t deceive me,’ she said to the servant, and lay down on the bench in front of the table. The lad performed lustily; after which, fearing to be surprised by the priest, he made haste to get away, but in jumping over the table he left behind him some telltale drops. Of course he did not return to the barn.
The priest, however, who was still threshing the wheat, said to himself, ‘How is it that the man does not return to work? I must go and look for him.’ He then walked into the izba and asked his wife: ‘Where is the servant?’—‘As soon as the business was finished, he left.’ The priest thought that the popadia meant the egg: he approached the table, noticed the liquid that was spilled on it, and said to his wife: ‘It is evident you gave him a boiled egg, but he did not eat it properly; he has let some of the white fall on the table.’ The popadia looked, and then cried: ‘The rascal! When he left me, he jumped over the table, and then, no doubt, these drops came from his tool. I must clean up the mess.’—‘What? What?’ asked the priest. ‘What did he do to you?’—‘Why, he did as you ordered him: he futtered me.’ On hearing this, the priest tore his long hair, and reproached his wife bitterly: ‘Oh, cursed whore!’ Then he harnessed his horse and set off in pursuit of the manservant.
The latter seeing his master coming, hastily daubed himself with mud, and when he had made himself unrecognizable, advanced to meet the priest. ‘Good day, batouchka!’—‘Good day, friend.’—‘Where are you going?’—‘I am looking for my manservant.’—‘Take me with you.’—‘But who are you?’—‘Griaznoff.’—‘Be it so; we will journey together.’ The two set off, and on the road they met a gypsy, who also asked permission to join them. The three travelled together. They had arrived near a river when night fell. On the river bank was a little house, in which lived a widow whom her lover came to see at night. They begged her to let them lodge in her house. At first she refused. ‘It is quite impossible! Tonight my house will be flooded, and you will all be drowned in your sleep.’ —‘Oh no! we shall find means to escape the flood.’ Finally the widow gave way, and consented to receive the travellers in her house.
The priest installed himself in the shed. ‘Here,’ he thought, ‘I shall surely be safe. The water will not reach to this height.’ The gypsy hooked a trough to the ceiling and lay down therein, after having provided himself with a knife. ‘If the inundation should take place,’ he thought, ‘I will cut the cords that support the trough, and it will float on the water.’ The woman of the house slept on the stove. The manservant suspected that she had a lover, and placed himself near the window. ‘If I am drowned, so much the worse,’ he said, ‘one can but die once.’ During the night he heard someone approach the window. ‘Who goes there?’—‘It is I,’ replied the lover. ‘Well, have you brought anything?’ ‘I have brought half a bottle of brandy, and some chitterlings.’—‘Very good; give them here.’ The other obeyed. Then the servant said: ‘I cannot receive you this evening, for I have travellers staying here, but let me at least hold your tool in my hands for a minute, and that will console me.’ The lover exhibited his member; the servant laid hold of it roughly and then looked round to see if he could not find a stick wherewith to baste the visitor’s ribs: by chance his hand fell on a knife with which he cut clean off the yard of the lover, who returned home in a most lamentable condition.
The servant at once set to work to empty the bottle and eat the chitterlings, but priests have keen noses for such things! The batouchka awoke. ‘Griaznoff, he cried, ‘what are you eating?’— ‘Chitterlings.’—‘Give me one.’—The servant gave him the gallant’s tool that he had cut off. The priest tried in vain to bite into it, and was obliged to return it to the servant. ‘It is too hard,’ he remarked. ‘It has never been cooked.’
Then they all went to sleep again, but the servant thought of another trick. He climbed up to the loft, and began to piss on the priest’s face. ‘The water is rising! ‘We shall be drowned,’ cried the priest, and fell heavily to the floor. On hearing this, the gypsy cut the cords which held the trough in which he was lying, and he too fell with a bang to the ground. They picked themselves up, both more or less bruised, and made off as fast as they were able. As to the manservant, he now lives with the widow.