"What sinners! What sinners!"
The peasants are saying,
"I'm sorry for Jacob, 240
Yet pity the Barin,
Indeed he was punished!
Ah, me!" Then they listen
To two or three more tales
As strange and as fearful,
And hotly they argue
On who must be reckoned
The greatest of sinners:
"The publican," one says,
And one, "The Pomyeshchick," 250
Another, "The peasant."
This last was a carter,
A man of good standing
And sound reputation,
No ignorant babbler.
He'd seen many things
In his life, his own province
Had traversed entirely.
He should have been heard.
The peasants, however, 260
Were all so indignant
They would not allow him
To speak. As for Klimka,
His wrath is unbounded,
"You fool!" he is shouting.

"But let me explain."