“My good friend, Mishinka, 241 I beg of you to consider the importance and solemnity of this holy-day. Do not sin, for Christ’s sake. Let the poor muzhiks go home.”

Michael laughed, but made no reply to his wife’s humane request. Finally he said to her:

“You’ve not been whipped for a very long time, and now you have become bold enough to interfere in affairs that are not your own.”

“Mishinka,” she persisted, “I have had a frightful dream concerning you. You had better let the muzhiks go.”

“Yes,” said he; “I perceive that you have gained so much flesh of late that you think you would not feel the whip. Look out!”