suffered no want; but when he died, and we separated, things went from worse to worse. It is all because we are alone!"
"But why did you separate?"
"All on account of the women, your Grace. At that time your grandfather was not living, or they would not have dared to; then there was real order. He looked after everything, like you,—and we should not have dared to think of separating. Your grandfather did not let the peasants off so easily. But after him the estate was managed by Andréy Ilích,—may he not live by this memory,—he was a drunkard and an unreliable man. We went to him once, and a second time. 'There is no getting along with the women,' we said, 'let us separate.' Well, he gave it to us, but, in the end, the women had their way, and we separated; and you know what a peasant is all by himself! Well, there was no order here, and Andréy Ilích treated us as he pleased. 'Let there be everything!' but he never asked where a peasant was to get it. Then they increased the capitation tax, and began to collect more provisions for the table, but the land grew less, and the crops began to fail. And when it came to resurveying the land, he attached our manured land to the manorial strip, the rascal, and he left us just to die!
"Your father—the kingdom of heaven be his—was a good master, but we hardly ever saw him: he lived all the time in Moscow ; of course, we had to carry supplies there frequently. There may have been bad roads, and no fodder, but we had to go! How could the master get along without it? We can't complain about that, only there was no order. Now, your Grace admits every peasant into your presence, and we are different people, and the steward is a different man. But before, the estate was left in guardianship, and there was no real master; the guardian was master, and Ilích was master,
