I.

    We are about
          to relate a story
               of mingled fact and fancy.

    The facts
        are borrowed
               from the Russian author,
           Petjerski;
        the fancy is our own.

    Our task
        will chiefly
              be to soften the outlines
                   of incidents almost
                 too sharp
                   and rugged
                 for literary use,
           to supply them
               with the necessary
              coloring and sentiment,
         and to give a coherent
               and proportioned shape
             to the irregular fragments
                   of an old chronicle.

    We know something,
           from other sources,
         of the customs described,
           something of the character
               of the people
             from personal observation,
         and may
             therefore the more freely take
                   such liberties as
                 we choose with the rude,
           vigorous sketches
               of the Russian original.

    One who happens
          to have read the work
               of Villebois
        can easily
              comprehend the existence
                   of a state of society,
           on the banks
               of the Volga,
         a hundred years ago,
           which is now impossible,
         and will soon become incredible.

    What is strangest
           in our narrative
        has been declared
              to be true.

 
  II.

    We are in Kinesma,
           a small town
               on the Volga,
         between Kostroma and Nijni-Novgorod.

    The time
        is about the middle
               of the last century,
           and the month October.

    There was trouble one day,
           in the palace
               of Prince Alexis,
         of Kinesma.

    This edifice,
           with its massive white walls,
         and its pyramidal roofs
               of green copper,
           stood upon a gentle mound
               to the eastward
                   of the town,
         overlooking it,
           a broad stretch
               of the Volga,
         and the opposite shore.

    On a similar hill,
           to the westward,
         stood the church,
           glittering with its dozen bulging,
         golden domes.

    These two establishments
          divided the sovereignty
               of Kinesma between them.

    Prince Alexis
          owned the bodies
               of the inhabitants,
         (with the exception of a
               few merchants and tradesmen,)
          and the Archimandrite Sergius
              owned their souls.

    But the shadow
           of the former
          stretched also over other villages,
           far beyond the ring
               of the wooded horizon.

    The number of his serfs
        was ten thousand,
           and his rule
               over them was
             even less
                  disputed than theirs
                       over their domestic animals.

    The inhabitants of the place
        had noticed with dismay
         that the slumber-flag
            had not
                been hoisted on the castle,
           although it
            was half an hour
                  after the usual time.

    So rare a
         circumstance
            betokened sudden wrath
          or disaster,
           on the part
               of Prince Alexis.

    Long experience
        had prepared the people
               for anything
         that might happen,
           and they
            were consequently not
                  astonished at the singular event
              which presently transpired.

    The fact is,
           that in the first place,
         the dinner
            had been
                  prolonged full ten minutes
                       beyond its accustomed limit,
           owing to a discussion
               between the Prince,
         his wife,
           the Princess Martha,
         and their son Prince Boris.

    The last
        was to leave
               for St. Petersburg
             in a fortnight,
           and wished
              to have his departure preceded
                   by a festival
                       at the castle.

    The Princess Martha
        was always ready
               to second the desires
                   of her only child.

    Between the two
         they had
              pressed some twenty
                  or thirty thousand rubles
                       out of the old Prince,
           for the winter diversions
               of the young one.

    The festival,
           to be sure,
         would have been
               a slight expenditure
             for a noble of
                   such immense wealth
               as Prince Alexis;
        but he never
              liked his wife,
           and he