The Enchanted Wanderer and Other Stories

The merchant tried once or twice to get to the deacons; he was ready to show his gratitude, but there was no hope there either—on the one hand there was a hindrance in the form of a gendarme with a white glove or a Cossack with a whip (they, too, had come in great numbers to the revealing of the relics), and on the other, the great danger of being crushed by the good Orthodox folk, who surged like an ocean. There had already been “occasions,” and even a great many, both yesterday and today. At the stroke of a Cossack whip, our good Christians would rush aside somewhere in a wall of five or six hundred people, and would push and press together so much that only moans and stink came from inside, and then, when it eased off, you could see women’s ears with the earrings torn away and fingers with rings pulled off, and two or three souls gone to their reward altogether.

The merchant was telling about all these difficulties over tea to his wife and daughter, for whom it was necessary to seize the first force, and meanwhile some “wastrel” of no known city or country rank was walking about among all those kibitkas near the barn and seemed to be looking at the Orel merchants with some intention.

There were many “wastrels” gathered here at the time. They not only found their place at the feast of faith, but even found themselves good occupations; and so they came thronging in abundance from various places, especially from towns famous for their thievish folk, that is, from Orel, Kromy, Elets, and from Livny, renowned for its great experts at working wonders. All these “wastrels” rubbing elbows here were looking for some profitable business. The boldest among them acted in concert, placing themselves in groups among the crowds, the more conveniently to produce jostling and confusion, with the aid of a Cossack, and use the turmoil to search people’s pockets, tear off watches, belt buckles, and pull earrings from ears; but the more dignified went around the inn yards singly, complained of their poverty, “told dreams and wonders,” offered potions to attract and detract, and “secret aids for old men, of whale semen, crow fat, elephant sperm,” and other nostrums, which “promoted permanent potency.” These nostrums did not lose their value even here, because, to the credit of humankind, conscience did not allow turning to the saint for every sort of healing. No less eagerly did the wastrels of peaceful ways take up simple thievery and on convenient occasions clean out visitors who, for lack of quarters, were living in their carts or under them. There was little space anywhere, and not all the carts could be put under the sheds of the inns; the rest stood outside town in the open fields. Here a still more varied and interesting life went on, and one still more filled with the nuances of sacred and medicinal poetry and amusing chicanery. Shady dealers poked about everywhere, but their home was this outlying “poor wagon train,” with ravines and hovels surrounding it, where there was a furious trade in vodka, and two or three carts stood with ruddy soldiers’ wives who had pitched together and come there. Here they also fabricated shavings from the coffin, “sealed earth,” pieces of rotted vestments, and even “fragments.” Occasionally, among the artisans who dealt in these things, very witty people turned up, who pulled interesting tricks remarkable for their simplicity and boldness. To these belonged the man whom the pious family from Orel had noticed. The swindler had overheard their lament about the impossibility of getting near the saint before the first streams of healing grace from the relics were exhausted, went straight up to them, and began speaking frankly:

“I heard your grievances and can help you, and you have no reason to shun me … Here, now, in this great and renowned assembly, you won’t get the satisfaction you desire without me, but I’ve been in such situations and know the ways. If you’d like to get the first force from the saint, don’t grudge a hundred roubles for your success, and I will provide it.”

The merchant looked at the fellow and said:

“Quit lying.”

But the man held his ground:

“You probably think that way judging by my nonentity,” he says, “but what is nonentity in the eyes of men may be reckoned quite differently with God, and what I undertake to do, I’m firmly able to accomplish. Here you’re worrying about earthly grandeur, that so much of it has come here, but to me it’s all dust, and if there were no end of princes and kings, they couldn’t hinder us in the least, and would even make way for us themselves. And so, if you wish to have a clear and smooth path ahead of you, and see the foremost persons, and give the first kisses to the friend of God, don’t stint on what I told you. But if you’re sorry about the hundred roubles and don’t scorn company, then I’ll promptly find two more persons I’ve already had my eye on, and that will make it cheaper for you.”