Short Fiction, Leo Tolstoy [general ebook reader .txt] 📗

woman’s face. There she stood with her arms folded, looking at her old husband, and smiling; and he smiled back at her. The old woman went on:

“I speak the truth and do not jest. For half a century we sought for happiness, and as long as we were rich we never found it. Now that we have nothing left, and have taken service as labourers, we have found such happiness that we want nothing better.”

“But in what does your happiness consist?” asked the guest.

“Why, in this,” she replied, “when we were rich, my husband and I had so many cares that we had no time to talk to one another, or to think of our souls, or to pray to God. Now we had visitors, and had to consider what food to set before them, and what presents to give them, lest they should speak ill of us. When they left, we had to look after our labourers, who were always trying to shirk work and get the best food, while we wanted to get all we could out of them. So we sinned. Then we were in fear lest a wolf should kill a foal or a calf, or thieves steal our horses. We lay awake at night, worrying lest the ewes should overlie their lambs, and we got up again and again to see that all was well. One thing attended to, another care would spring up: how, for instance, to get enough fodder for the winter. And besides that, my old man and I used to disagree. He would say we must do so-and-so, and I would differ from him; and then we disputed⁠—sinning again. So we passed from one trouble to another, from one sin to another, and found no happiness.”

“Well, and now?”

“Now, when my husband and I wake in the morning, we always have a loving word for one another, and we live peacefully, having nothing to quarrel about. We have no care but how best to serve our master. We work as much as our strength allows, and do it with a will, that our master may not lose, but profit by us. When we come in, dinner or supper is ready and there is kumiss to drink. We have fuel to burn when it is cold, and we have our fur cloak. And we have time to talk, time to think of our souls, and time to pray. For fifty years we sought happiness, but only now at last have we found it.”

The guests laughed.

But Ilyás said:

“Do not laugh, friends. It is not a matter for jesting⁠—it is the truth of life. We also were foolish at first, and wept at the loss of our wealth; but now God has shown us the truth, and we tell it, not for our own consolation, but for your good.”

And the Mullah said:

“That is a wise speech. Ilyás has spoken the exact truth. The same is said in Holy Writ.”

And the guests ceased laughing and became thoughtful.

1885.

Croesus and Solon

In olden times⁠—long, long before the coming of Christ⁠—there reigned over a certain country a great king called Croesus. He had much gold and silver, and many precious stones, as well as numberless soldiers and slaves. Indeed, he thought that in all the world there could be no happier man than himself.

But one day there chanced to visit the country which Croesus ruled a Greek philosopher named Solon. Far and wide was Solon famed as a wise man and a just; and, inasmuch as his fame had reached Croesus also, the king commanded that he should be conducted to his presence.

Seated upon his throne, and robed in his most gorgeous apparel, Croesus asked of Solon: “Have you ever seen aught more splendid than this?”

“Of a surety have I,” replied Solon. “Peacocks, cocks, and pheasants glitter with colours so diverse and so brilliant that no art can compare with them.”

Croesus was silent as he thought to himself: “Since this is not enough, I must show him something more, to surprise him.”

So he exhibited the whole of his riches before Solon’s eyes, as well as boasted of the number of foes he had slain, and the number of territories he had conquered. Then he said to the philosopher:

“You have lived long in the world, and have visited many countries. Tell me whom you consider to be the happiest man living?”

“The happiest man living I consider to be a certain poor man who lives in Athens,” replied Solon.

The king was surprised at this answer, for he had made certain that Solon would name him himself; yet, for all that, the philosopher had named a perfectly obscure individual!

“Why do you say that?” asked Croesus.

“Because,” replied Solon, “the man of whom I speak has worked hard all his life, has been content with little, has reared fine children, has served his city honourably, and has achieved a noble reputation.”

When Croesus heard this he exclaimed:

“And do you reckon my happiness as nothing, and consider that I am not fit to be compared with the man of whom you speak?”

To which Solon replied:

“Often it befalls that a poor man is happier than a rich man. Call no man happy until he is dead.”

The king dismissed Solon, for he was not pleased at his words, and had no belief in him.

“A fig for melancholy!” he thought. “While a man lives he should live for pleasure.”

So he forgot about Solon entirely.

Not long afterwards the king’s son went hunting, but wounded himself by a mischance, and died of the wound. Next, it was told to Croesus that the powerful Emperor Cyrus was coming to make war upon him.

So Croesus went out against Cyrus with a great army, but the enemy proved the stronger, and, having won the battle and shattered Croesus’ forces, penetrated to the capital.

Then the foreign soldiers began to pillage all King Croesus’ riches, and to slay the inhabitants, and to sack and fire the city. One soldier seized Croesus