In a village there lived a priest who was very fond of women; whenever he saw from his window a young woman pass his door, he would lean out of the window, and begin to neigh like a stallion. In the same village there lived a moujik [peasant] who was married to a very pretty woman. Every day, when she went to fetch water, she passed before the priest’s house, and as soon as the priest saw her, he put his head out of the window, and began to neigh.
One day, when she came home the woman said to her husband, ‘Tell me, my little man, I beg, why it is that the priest neighs like a horse whenever I pass his house, as I go to fetch water?’—‘Why, you fool, it is because he has taken a fancy to you. But you do as I tell you, and when you go to fetch water, and the priest begins to ‘hi, ho, ho,’ you reply, ‘hi, hi, hi.’ Then he will come running out to you, and ask you to sleep with him. Induce him to come to our house, and we will treat him in such a way that he will never want to neigh again. The woman took a pitcher, and went to draw some water. The priest saw her through the window, and filled the street with his ‘hi, ho, ho!’—‘Hi, hi, hi,’ replied the woman. The priest hastily put on a coat, ran out of his house, and came up to the woman. ‘Well, matouchka [little mother (colloquial)]! can you manage that for me?’ ‘Yes, batouchka [little father (a hypocoristic often applied to priests)], my husband is about to go to the fair; but he cannot find any horses.’—‘Why did you not say so before? Send him to me, and I will lend him my two horses and my carriage, and he can go to the town and transact his business!’
The woman returned home, and told her husband of this offer. He went to the priest, who had been waiting for him a long time. ‘Be good enough, batouchka, to lend me your cart and horses, to go to the fair.’—‘Willingly, my friend, willingly!’ The peasant returned home with the priest’s cart and horses, and said to his wife: ‘Now, mistress, I am going just beyond the village. I will remain there a little time, and then come back. During that time, the priest is free to come and amuse himself here. When I come back, and he hears me knock at the door, he will be frightened, and will beg of you to show him a hiding place. Put him in the box where we keep the soot, do you understand?’ ‘Very good.’
The moujik mounted the cart, and drove outside the village. The priest, seeing him go, ran at once to the woman’s house. ‘Good day, matouchka.’—‘Good day, batouchka. Now we are free to enjoy ourselves. Sit down to the table, and drink some brandy.’ After he had drunk a small glassful, the priest, who could no longer restrain himself, took off his cassock, his boots, and his socks, but just as he was going to get into bed, there was a knock at the door. ‘Who is that knocking, matouchka?’ asked the priest in a frightened voice. ‘Ah, batouchka, it is my husband who has returned; no doubt he has forgotten something.’—‘But where can I hide myself, my dear?’—‘There in that corner is an empty box; get inside that.’ The priest quickly got in, and fell all amongst the soot, and there he lay, more dead than alive. The woman made haste to close the lid, and then turned the key in the lock.
The moujik walked into the izba [cottage, Russian peasant dwelling]. ‘Why have you come back?’ asked his wife. ‘I forgot to take the soot-box. Perhaps I shall be able to sell the soot at the fair. Help me to put it into the cart.’ The man and his wife lifted up the box which contained the priest, and set to work to drag it out of the izba. ‘Why is it so heavy?’ said the husband. ‘I thought it was nearly empty, and it is a good weight.’ While he was lugging the heavy box, he purposely knocked it against the wall and the door. ‘Oh, I am caught in a nice trap!’ thought the priest as he was thus knocked about. At last the box was hoisted into the cart, and the peasant sat on top of it, and set out for the town.
He lashed the horses, and they set off at full gallop. On the road he met the carriage of a gnetleman, which was coming in the opposite direction. ‘Go and tell that moujik to stop,’ the gentleman ordered his lackey, ‘and ask him why he is driving so furiously.’ The lackey ran forward, and cried: ‘Hi! moujik! Stop! Stop!’ The peasant obeyed. ‘My master wants to know why you are driving at such a rate.’—‘I am hunting for devils; that is why I am going at full gallop.’—‘And have you caught any, moujik?’ ‘Yes, I have caught one, and I was pursuing another when you interrupted me, and now I shall not be able to overtake him.’
When the lackey reported these words to his master, the gentleman came at once to the peasant. ‘My friend, show me the devil you have caught: I have never seen one in my life.’—‘Give me a hundred roubles, barine, and I will show it you.’ ‘All right.’ The gentleman gave him the hundred roubles, and the moujik opened the box, and showed its contents. The priest lay there all bruised, and blackened with soot, and his hair all disordered. ‘Oh, how ugly he is!’ said the gentleman. ‘He really is a devil! He has long hair and black skin, and his eyes are starting out of his head!’ Then the moujik shut up the box, and continued his journey.
When he arrived at the town he drove to the field where the fair was held. ‘What have you to sell, moujik?’ he was asked. ‘A devil,’ he replied.—‘How much do you ask for him?’—‘A thousand roubles?’ —‘Nothing less?’—‘Nothing less, a thousand roubles is the fixed price.’ Such a crowd collected round the peasant, that an apple thrown amongst them would not have fallen to the ground. Two rich merchants, pushing their way through the crowd as well as they could, approached the cart. ‘Moujik, will you sell us your devil?’—‘I only await a purchaser.’—‘Well, what is your price?’—‘A thousand roubles, and that is without the box, for I want the box. If I catch another devil, I must have somewhere to put him.’ The merchants decided to go halves in the speculation, and handed a thousand roubles to the moujik. ‘Come and take possession of your devil,’ said he, and opened the box. Immediately, the priest jumped out and ran through the crowd, which fled in all directions. ‘What an awful devil! If we were to meet one like that, we would be killed,’ said one of the merchants to the other.
As to the moujik, he returned home, and took the horses back to the priest’s house. ‘Many thanks for your cart, batouchka,’ he said. ‘I did an excellent stroke of business at the fair, and gained a thousand gold roubles.’ His wife went soon afterwards to draw some water, and as she passed the priest’s house, she saw him and began to go ‘hi, hi, hi.’—‘Be quiet, cursèd wretch!’ replied the priest, ‘With your hi, hi, hi, your husband has played me a scurvy trick.’ From that day the priest was never heard to neigh any more.