Uneasy, I got out of my _kibitka_, and I saw
my mother come to meet me, looking very sad.
"Don't make a noise," she said to me. "Your father is on his death-bed,
and wishes to bid you farewell."
Struck with horror, I followed her into the bedroom. I look round; the
room is nearly dark. Near the bed some people were standing, looking sad
and cast down. I approached on tiptoe. My mother raised the curtain, and
said--
"Andrej Petrovitch, Petrousha has come back; he came back having heard
of your illness. Give him your blessing."
I knelt down. But to my astonishment instead of my father I saw in the
bed a black-bearded peasant, who regarded me with a merry look. Full of
surprise, I turned towards my mother.
"What does this mean?" I exclaimed. "It is not my father. Why do you
want me to ask this peasant's blessing?"
"It is the same thing, Petrousha," replied my mother. "That person is
your _godfather_.[17] Kiss his hand, and let him bless you."
I would not consent to this. Whereupon the peasant sprang from the bed,
quickly drew his axe from his belt, and began to brandish it in all
directions. I wished to fly, but I could not. The room seemed to be
suddenly full of corpses. I stumbled against them; my feet slipped in
pools of blood.
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