The Thief's Son

A jury court assembled in a certain town. The jurors included peasants, nobles, and merchants. The foreman of the jury was the respected merchant Ivan Akimovich Belov. Everyone respected this merchant for his good life: he conducted business honestly, deceived no one, cheated no one, and helped people. He was an old man, nearing 70.

The judge was surprised: “How is that,” he says, “why?” “Just so, I cannot. Release me.” And suddenly Ivan Akimovich’s voice trembled, and he began to weep. He wept so much he could not speak. Then he recovered and said to the judge: “I cannot, your honor, judge because I and my father are perhaps much worse than this thief; how can I judge someone just like me? I cannot, release me, I beg you.”

The judge released Ivan Akimovich and later that evening called him to himself and began to ask: “Why,” he says, “do you refuse the court?”

“Here is why,” said Ivan Akimovich, and he told the judge the following story about himself. “You think,” he says, “that I am a merchant’s son and that I was born in your city. That is not true. I am a peasant’s son; my father was a peasant, the leading thief in the district, and he died in prison. He was a kind man, but only when drunk, and in a drunken state he beat my mother and brawled and was ready for any bad deed, but then he would repent. Once he took me along with him to steal. And this very time became my happiness.

“The matter was like this. My father was in the company of thieves in a tavern, and they began to discuss where they could get some loot. And my father says to them: ‘Here is the thing, lads. You know,’ he says, ‘merchant Belov’s storehouse that faces the street. Well, there is treasure beyond counting in that storehouse. Only it is hard to get in there. But I have thought of something. There is a small window in this storehouse, only high up and narrow, a big man cannot squeeze through. So I thought of this. I have,’ he says, ‘a lad, a nimble boy,‘—meaning me—‘so we,’ he says, ‘will take him with us, tie him with a rope, boost him to the window, he will climb in, we will lower him on the rope, and give him another rope in his hands, and onto this very rope he will tie the goods from the storehouse for us, and we will pull it out. And when we have taken what we need, we will pull him back out.’”

“And the thieves liked this, and said: ‘Well, go ahead, bring the kid.’ My father came home, called me. Mother says: ‘What do you need him for?’ ‘It means I need him if I call.’ Mother says: ‘He is outside.’ ‘Call him.’ Mother knows that when he is drunk, one cannot speak to him, he will beat you. She ran for me, called me. And my father says to me: ‘Vanka! Are you good at climbing?’ ‘I can climb anywhere you want.’ ‘Well,’ he says, ‘come with me.’ Mother started to talk him out of it, he swung at her, she fell silent. My father took me, dressed me, and led me with him. He led me, brought me to the tavern, they gave me tea with sugar and snacks, we sat until evening. When it got dark, everyone went—there were three in all—and they took me.”

“We came to this very house of the merchant Belov. Immediately they tied me with one rope… ‘Understand?’ they say. ‘How could I not understand, I understand.’ So they boosted me up to the window, I squeezed through it, and they began to lower me on the rope. I stood on something solid and immediately began to feel around with my little hands. I can’t see anything—it’s dark, I just feel around. As soon as I feel something furry, immediately I tie it to the rope, not to the end but to the middle, and they pull. Again I pull the rope back and again I tie something on. They pulled out about three such things, pulled the whole rope to themselves, meaning—that’s enough, and pulled me upward again. I hold onto the rope with my little hands, and they pull. They only pulled me halfway: snap! the rope broke, and I fell down. Good thing I landed on pillows, I didn’t get hurt.”

“Only at this very time, as I learned later, the watchman saw them, raised the alarm, and they rushed to run away with the stolen goods. They ran away, and I remained, they left. I lie alone in the dark, and fear came over me, I cry and scream: Mama, mama! mama, mama! And I was so tired from fear and tears, and hadn’t slept at night, that I didn’t even hear myself fall asleep on the pillows. Suddenly I wake up, standing before me with a lantern is this very merchant Belov and a policeman. The policeman began to ask me who I was with. I said—with father. ‘And who is your father?’ And I began to cry again. And the old man Belov says to the policeman: ‘God be with him. A child is a soul of God. It is not fitting for him to point out his father, and what is lost is lost.’”

“He was a good man, the deceased, kingdom of heaven. And his old wife was even more compassionate. She took me with her into the room, gave me treats, and I stopped crying: a child, as is known, rejoices at everything. In the morning the mistress asks me: ‘Do you want to go home?’ I don’t know what to say. I say: yes, I want to. ‘And do you want to stay with me?’ she says. I say: I want to. ‘Well then, stay.’”

“So I stayed. And I stayed, and stayed, and lived with them that way. And they arranged papers for me, like a foundling, made me a foster child. At first I lived as an errand boy, then, as I began to grow up, they made me a clerk, I managed the shop. I must have served not badly. And they were kind people, they came to love me so much that they even gave their daughter in marriage to me. And they made me instead of a son. And the old man died—the whole estate went to me.”

“So that is who I am. Both a thief myself and a thief’s son; how then can I judge people. And besides, it is not a Christian business, your honor. We need to forgive and love all people, and if he, the thief, made a mistake, then he should not be punished, but pitied. Remember how Christ spoke.”

So said Ivan Akimovich. And the judge stopped asking and pondered himself.