thers. What would we do without the authorities? If the people were not afraid of the authorities, they'd go wild."
"But how can you get to that village, when nobody knows the way?" again asked the bearded peasant, doubtfully.
"And what about God, eh?" exclaimed the little peasant.
"D'you think he'd let a poor man perish, eh? Your tongue and your need will take you anywhere."
II.
The train was rushing along, clattering and clanging.
Night peered in through the car windows.
Dense clouds of sparks, like golden bees, were flying past the window, rapidly twirling in the air and forming themselves into fiery arcs and zig-zags.
"And then again," began the little peasant after a moment's silence, "you can join some community. Experienced people used to say that they don't send you back if you join a community."
"Yes, but who'll take you in without a passport?" The bearded peasant again shook his head in doubt and disapproval.
"Oh, they'll take me in."
"No, not without a passport. A man is not supposed to live without a passport. Only the dog lives without a passport. Well, the Turk too, I guess. But the Turk is the same as a dog, because he is of Turkish faith. And a Christian, a real Christian, can't live without a passport."
"But how're you going to get it?" The little peasant made a rapid, uneasy motion. "Take my case, for example. I am an awfully poor fellow; I guess nothing remains for me to do, except to die. Always hungry and poor. I must go somewhere else, and get a piece of land. So, I get about it. First I go to the village clerk. 'So and so,' say I, Ivan Petrovich, won't you let me have a passport, so that I could go to new lands.' And he says, 'Oh I can't do anything; you'll have to go the village head.' So, I go to the head. And he says, 'Go to the head of the volost.' And the head of the volost says, 'I can't do anything. It's up to the lord. You go to him.'"
"What lord?"
"Oh, the Zemstvo official. So I go to him. But he says right off to me, 'You throw that nonsense out of your head, and forget all about it. It's just nonsense.' Yes, nonsense, when my kids are running around all naked."
"So you've got children, too?"
"Oh, sure!" The peasant's withered face lit up. "Three of 'em."
"How could you leave them?"
"Oh, God will take care of them. What good am I to them? They'll have to starve anyway, whether I'm there or not. Just as soon as I settle down in Siberia, I'll get them over. Now just look. I've got no horse. All the land I've got is about one-quarter of a desiatina. And I owe the Church elder more than fifty pouds of grain. Borrowed it on different occasions. So I had to work the whole summer for the elder, paying off the debt.
