"I am angry with you, Semyon Novikov, and I am going to punish you."
"What have I done to anger you, Lord?" said Semyon.
"It does not befit you, Semyon, to question me, Elijah. You must answer me."
"Just as you say, Lord."
"Two years ago I killed your elder boy Panteley with my lightning. Why did you bury him only half way, and return him to life through witchcraft?"
"Forgive me, Lord," said Semyon, bowing before him.
"I was sorry for the youngster. And then, think yourself: who is going to take care of me when I grow old?"
"And last year I cut your rye down with wind and hail. Why did you find out about it ahead of time, and sell your crop in the field?"
Forgive me, Lord," said Semyon, bowing before him. "My heart foretold it, and I needed the money so badly."
"And this year, didn't I burn your house down? Why are you in such a hurry to separate from your brother and build a new house?"
"Forgive me, Lord," said Semyon, bowing before him. "I thought my thin-armed brother unlucky, and that all those misfortunes came through him."
"Close your eyes. I'll think, and take counsel as to how to punish you."
Semyon closed his eyes and bowed his head low. The wind was whistling through the fluttering stalks, and Semyon tried to overhear Elijah's conversation with the peasants. But a new peal of thunder drowned their whispers.
"No, I can't think of anything," said Elijah in a loud voice.
"Think of something yourself."
"May I open my eyes?" asked Semyon.
"No. You will think better with your eyes closed."
"You're a strange fellow, Lord," grinned Semyon. "Well, what can I do? I'll buy you a candle for three roubles."
"Oh, you have no money. Didn't you spend everything you had for the new house?"
"Well, then I'll go to Kiev, or to the White City," said Semyon, hesitatingly.
"That would be simply wasting your time and wearing your shoes out. Who'll take care of your house?"
Semyon thought for a few moments.
