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Rh On that day the wife also got up and began to roam about. The muzhik shaved himself, put on a clean shirt (the old woman had washed it), and went to the village to a rich muzhik to beg mercy of him. His meadow land and the corn land had been mortgaged to this rich muzhik, and he went to beg him to give back the land before the crops were ripe. Towards evening the man returned, vexed and tearful. The rich muzhik would have no mercy; he said, "Bring the money!"

Elisyei fell a-thinking: "How will they be able to live now? People are going out to reap now, but they have nothing, for their crops are mortgaged. The rye is ripening, people are preparing to gather it in (and our mother earth has given bountifully), but these have nothing to gather, their desyatin is sold to the rich muzhik. When I go away they'll be just as wretched as ever." And Elisyei cudgelled his brains about it, and did not go away that evening, but put it off till the morrow. He went to sleep in the barn. He said his prayers, laid down, and could not close an eye. He ought to have gone, he had already spent a lot of time and money there, but he was sorry for the people. "You've not done all you might," he thought, "you would give them a drop of water and some crumbs of bread, but what's the good of that? Now you should redeem their field and crop. Redeem their field, buy a cow for the children, and a cart to carry the muzhik's sheaves. Verily, brother Elisyei Kuz'mich, thou art all at sea

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