Little Master Misery
by
Once upon a time there were two brothers, peasants, and one was kind and the other was cunning. And the cunning one made money and became rich–very rich–so rich that he thought himself far too good for the village. He went off to the town, and dressed in fine furs, and clothed his wife in rich brocades, and made friends among the merchants, and began to live as merchants live, eating all day long, no longer like a simple peasant who eats kasha one day, kasha the next day, and for a change kasha on the third day also. And always he grew richer and richer.
It was very different with the kind one. He lent money to a neighbour, and the neighbour never paid it back. He sowed before the last frost, and lost all his crops. His horse went lame. His cow gave no milk. If his hens laid eggs, they were stolen; and if he set a night-line in the river, some one else always pulled it out and stole the fish and the hooks. Everything went wrong with him, and each day saw him poorer than the day before. At last there came a time when he had not a crumb of bread in the house. He and his wife were thin as sticks because they had nothing to eat, and the children were crying all day long because of their little empty stomachs. From morning till night he dug and worked, struggling against poverty like a fish against the ice; but it was no good. Things went from bad to worse.
At last his wife said to him: “You must go to the town and see that rich brother of yours. He will surely not refuse to give you a little help.”
And he said: “Truly, wife, there is nothing else to be done. I will go to the town, and perhaps my rich brother will help me. I am sure he would not let my children starve. After all, he is their uncle.”
So he took his stick and tramped off to the town.
He came to the house of his rich brother. A fine house it was, with painted eaves and a doorway carved by a master. Many servants were there and food in plenty, and people coming and going. He went in and found his brother, and said,–
“Dear brother of mine, I beg you help me, even if only a little. My wife and children are without bread. All day long they sit hungry and waiting, and I have no food to give them.”
The rich brother looks at him, and hums and strokes his beard. Then says he: “I will help you. But, of course, you must do something in return. Stay here and work for me, and at the end of a week you shall have the help you have earned.”
The poor brother thanked him, and bowed and kissed his hand, and praised God for the kindness of his brother’s heart, and set instantly to work. For a whole week he slaved, and scarcely slept. He cleaned out the stables and cut the wood, swept the yard, drew water from the well, and ran errands for the cook. And at the end of the week his brother called him, and gave him a single loaf of bread.
“You must not forget,” says the rich brother, “that I have fed you all the week you have been here, and all that food counts in the payment.”
The poor brother thanked him, and was setting off to carry the loaf to his wife and children when the rich brother called him back.
“Stop a minute,” said he; “I would like you to know that I am well disposed towards you. To-morrow is my name-day. Come to the feast, and bring your wife with you.”
“How can I do that, brother? Your friends are rich merchants, with fine clothes, and boots on their feet. And I have nothing but my old coat, and my legs are bound in rags and my feet shuffle along in straw slippers. I do not want to shame you before your guests.”