[adapted]

by
Leo Tolstoy

In the region of Ufá there lived a Bashkir, Ilyás. His father had left him no money. His father had died a year after his son got married. At that time Ilyás had seven female horses, two cows, and twenty sheep; but Ilyás was a good owner and began to get more things; he worked with his wife from morning until night, got up earlier than anybody, and went to bed later, and became richer every year. Thus Ilyás spent thirty-five years working, and came to have a lot of money.

Ilyás finally had two hundred horses, one hundred and fifty cows, and one thousand two hundred sheep. Men looked after Ilyás’s animals, and women milked the female horses and cows, and made kumys, butter, and cheese. Ilyás had plenty of everything, and in the area everyone was jealous of his life. People said:

“Ilyás is a lucky man. He has a lot of everything, — he does not have to die.”

Good people made friends with Ilyás and became his friends. And guests came to him from far away. He welcomed them all, and fed them, and gave them drinks. No matter who came, he gave them kumys, and tea, and sherbet, and mutton. If guests came to see him, they killed a sheep or two, and if many guests arrived, he told them to kill a horse.

Ilyás had two sons and a daughter. He had helped them all get married. When Ilyás had been poor, his sons had worked with him and had looked after the horses and the cattle and the sheep; but when they grew rich, the sons became spoiled, and one of them even began to drink. One of them, the oldest, was killed in a fight, and the other, the younger, had a proud wife, and did not do what his father told him, and his father had to give him his own money to live on.

Ilyás gave him a house and cattle, and his own wealth became smaller. Soon after a disease came to Ilyás’s sheep, and many of them died. Then there was a year with little food, the hay crop failed, and in the winter many cattle died. Then the Kirgizes took away the best herd of horses. And thus Ilyás’s property became less, and he became poorer and poorer, and his strength began to get weaker.

When he was seventy years old, he began to sell his furs, rugs, saddles, and tents, and soon had to sell his last cow, so that he was left with nothing. Very soon, all was gone, and in his old age he had to go with his wife to live among people they did not know. All that Ilyás had left of his money and things was the clothes he had on him, a fur coat, a cap, and his leather slippers and shoes, and his wife, Sham-shemagi, who was now an old woman. The son he had given the property to had left for a far country, and his daughter had died. And so there was nobody to help the old people.

Their neighbour, Muhamedshah, felt sorry for them. Muhamedshah was neither rich nor poor, and he lived a simple, quiet life, and was a good man. He remembered Ilyás’s kind welcome, and so felt sorry for him, and said to Ilyás:

“Come to live with me, Ilyás, and bring your wife too! In the summer work as much as you can in my vegetable garden, and in the winter feed the cattle, and let Sham-shemagi milk the female horses and make kumys. I will give you food and clothes and will give you whatever you need.”

Ilyás thanked his neighbour, and went to live with his wife as Muhamedshah’s workers. At first it was hard for them, but soon they got used to the work, and the old people worked as much as they could.

It was good for the master to keep these people, for they had been masters themselves and knew the work well and were not lazy, but worked as much as they could; but it made Muhamedshah sad to see the rich people made so poor.

One day some distant guests, matchmakers, came to visit Muhamedshah; and the mulla, too, came. Muhamedshah told his men to catch a sheep and kill it. Ilyás skinned the sheep and cooked it and sent it in to the guests. They ate the sheep meat, drank tea, and then started to drink kumys. The guests and the master were sitting on soft cushions on the rugs, drinking kumys out of bowls, and talking; but Ilyás finished his work and walked past the door. When Muhamedshah saw him, he said to a guest:

“Did you see the old man who just went past the door?”

“I did,” said the guest; “but what is there special about him?”

“What is special is that he used to be our richest man. Ilyás is his name; maybe you have heard of him?”

“Of course I have,” said the guest. “I have never seen him, but he is famous in many places.”

“Now he has nothing left, he lives with me as a worker, and his wife is with him, — she milks the cows.”

The guest was surprised. He made a clicking sound with his tongue, shook his head, and said:

“Clearly luck goes round like a wheel: it lifts one up, it brings another down. Well, is the old man sad?”

“Who knows? He lives quietly and peacefully, and works well.”

Then the guest said:

“May I talk with him? I would like to ask him about his life.”

“Of course you may,” said the master, and he called from the tent: “Babay!” (This means “grandfather” in the Bashkia language.) “Come in and drink some kumys, and bring your wife with you!”

Ilyás came in with his wife. He said hello to the guests and to the owner of the house, said a prayer, and knelt down at the door; but his wife went to a curtain at the back and sat down with the woman of the house.

A bowl of kumys was given to Ilyás. Ilyás greeted the guests and the owner, made a bow, drank a little, and put down the bowl.

“Grandfather,” the guest said to him, “I think it makes you feel sad to look at us and think of your past life, thinking of the money you had and how hard your life is now.”

But Ilyás smiled and said:

“If I tell you about my happiness and sadness, you will not believe me, — you should ask my wife. She is a woman, and what is in her heart she says with her mouth: she will tell you all the truth about this thing.”

And the guest spoke to her behind the curtain:

“Well, granny, tell us how you think about your past happiness and present sadness.”

And Sham-shemagi said from behind the curtain:

“I think like this: My husband and I lived for fifty years trying to find happiness, and we did not find it; but now it is the second year that we have nothing left and that we live as workers, and we have found that happiness and do not need any other.”

The guests were surprised and the host was amazed, and he even got up to pull aside the curtain and to look at the old woman. But the old woman was standing with her hands folded, smiling and looking at her husband, and the old man was smiling, too. The old woman said again:

“I am telling you the truth, not joking: for fifty years we tried to find happiness, and while we were rich, we did not find it; now we have nothing left, and we are working for others, — and we have found such happiness that we want no other.”

“Where is your happiness found?”

“In this: when we were rich, my husband and I did not have an hour of rest: we had no time to talk together, to think about our souls, or to pray. We had so many worries! Now guests visited us, — and there were worries about what to give them to eat and what gifts to give so that they would not think badly of us. When the guests left, we had to look after the workers: they thought only of rest and having good food to eat, but we cared only about having our property taken care of, — and so sinned. Now we were afraid that a wolf would kill a colt or a calf, and now that thieves might steal a herd.”

“When we lay down to sleep, we could not fall asleep, because we were afraid the sheep might crush the lambs. We would get up in the night and walk around; as soon as we felt calm, we had a new worry — how to get food for the animals for the winter. And, worse than that, my husband and I did not agree much. He would say that this had to be done like this, and I would say differently, and so we began to argue and do wrong. So we lived from one worry to another, from one wrong to another, and had no happy life.”

“Well, what now?”

“Now my husband and I get up, speak together peacefully, in agreement, for we have nothing to argue about, nothing to worry about, — the only thing we care about is to serve our master. We work as much as we can, and we work gladly so that our master will not lose anything, but will gain. When we come back, dinner is ready, and supper, and kumys. If it is cold, there are dung chips to make a fire with and a fur coat to warm ourselves. For fifty years we looked for happiness, but only now have we found it.”

The guests laughed.

And Ilyás said:

“Do not laugh, brothers! This is not a joke, but a serious thing in life. My wife and I were silly and cried because we had lost all our money, but now God has shown us the truth, and we tell this truth to you, not for our fun but for your good.”

And the religious teacher said:

“That was a good speech, and Ilyás has told the exact truth, — it is so, too, in the Bible.”

And the guests stopped laughing and started thinking.