To the Governor, and see him
I must, little Uncle!'

"'You can't see him, woman.
Well, well.... I'll consider....
Return in two hours.'

"I see in the market
A pedestal standing, 130
A peasant upon it,
He's just like Savyeli,
And all made of brass:
It's Susanin's memorial.
While crossing the market
I'm suddenly startled--
A heavy grey drake
From a cook is escaping;
The fellow pursues
With a knife. It is shrieking. 140
My God, what a sound!
To the soul it has pierced me.
('Tis only the knife
That can wring such a shriek.)
The cook has now caught it;
It stretches its neck,
Begins angrily hissing,
As if it would frighten
The cook,--the poor creature!
I run from the market, 150
I'm trembling and thinking,