says the Lord God; "nobody shall hinder you."
"Will you permit me," Satan says, "to bring about an invasion of foreigners?"
The Lord God shook his finger at Satan and cried: "Is that all you can think of? And you so wise!"
"Excuse me," Satan says. "Why doesn't my plan show wisdom?"
"Because," replies the Lord God, "you propose to afflict the people with war, and war is just what they want. They're all the time fighting among themselves, one people with another, and that's the very thing I want to punish them for."
"Yes," says Satan, "they re greedy for war, but that's only because they have never yet seen a real warrior. Send them a regular conqueror, and they'll soon drop their tails between their legs and cry, 'Have mercy, Lord! Save us from the man of blood!'"
The Lord God was surprised. "Why do you say, my little brother, that the people have never seen a real warrior? The Tsar Herod was a conqueror; the Tsar Alexander subdued a wonderful lot of people; Ivan-Tsar destroyed Kazan; Mamai-Tsar the furious came with all his hordes; and the Tsar Peter, and the great fighter Anika – how many more conquerors do you want?"
"I want Napoleonder," says Satan.
"Napoleonder!" cries the Lord God. "Who's he? Where did he come from?"
"He's a certain little man," Satan says, "who may not be wise enough to hurt, but he's terribly fierce in his habits."
The Lord God says to the archangel Gabriel: "Look in the Book of Life,
Gabriel, and see if we've got Napoleonder written down."
The archangel looked and looked, but he couldn't look up any such person.
"There isn't any kind of Napoleonder in the Book," he says. "Satan is a liar. We haven't got Napoleonder written down anywhere."
Then Satan replies: "It isn't strange that you can't find Napoleonder in the Book of Life, because you write in that Book only the names of those who were born of human fathers and mothers, and who have navels. Napoleonder never had a father or a mother, and, moreover, he hasn't any navel – and that's so surprising that you might exhibit him for money."
The Lord God was greatly astonished. "How did your Napoleonder ever get into the world?" he says.
"In this way," Satan replies. "I made him, as a doll, just for amusement, out of sand. At that very time, you, Lord, happened to be washing your holy face; and, not being careful, you let a few drops of the water of life splash over. They fell from heaven right exactly on Napoleonder's head, and he immediately took breath and became a man. He is living now, not very near nor very far away, on the island of Buan, in the middle of the ocean-sea. There is a little less than a verst of land in the island, and Napoleonder lives there and watches geese. Night and day he looks after the geese, without eating, or drinking, or sleeping, or smoking; and his only thought is – how to conquer the whole world."
The Lord God thought and thought, and then he ordered: "Bring him to me."
Satan at once brought Napoleonder into the bright heaven. The Lord God looked at him, and saw that he was a military man with shining buttons.
"I have heard, Napoleonder," says the Lord God, "that you want to conquer the whole world."
"Exactly so," replies Napoleonder; "that's what I want very much to do."
"And have you thought," says the Lord God, "that when you go forth to conquer you will crush many peoples and shed rivers of blood?"
"That's all the same to me," says Napoleonder; "the important thing for me is – how can I subdue the whole world."
"And will you not feel pity for the killed, the wounded, the burned, the ruined, and the dead?"
"Not in the least," says Napoleonder. "Why should I feel pity? I don't like pity. So far as I can remember, I was never sorry for anybody or anything in my life, and I never shall be."
Then the Lord God turns to the angels and says: "Messrs. Angels, this seems to be the very fellow for our business." Then to Napoleonder he says: "Satan was perfectly right. You are worthy to be the instrument of my wrath, because a pitiless conqueror is worse than earthquake, famine, or deluge. Go back to the earth, Napoleonder; I turn over to you the whole world, and through you the whole world shall be punished."
Napoleonder says: "Give me armies and luck, and I'll do my best."
Then the Lord God says: "Armies you shall have, and luck you shall have; and so long as you are merciless you shall never be defeated in battle; but remember that the moment you begin to feel sorry for the shedding of blood – of your own people or of others – that moment your power will end. From that moment your enemies will defeat you, and you shall finally be made a prisoner, be put into chains, and be sent back to Buan Island to watch geese. Do you understand?"
"Exactly so," says Napoleonder. "I understand, and I will obey. I shall never feel pity."
Then the angels and the archangels began to say to God: "Lord, why have you laid upon him such a frightful command? If he goes forth so, without mercy, he will kill every living soul on earth – he will leave none for seed!"
"Be silent!" replied the Lord God. "He will not conquer long. He is altogether too brave; because he fears neither others nor himself. He thinks he will keep from pity, and does not know that pity, in the human heart, is stronger than all else, and that not a man living is wholly without it."
"But," the archangels say, "he is not a man; he is made of sand."
The Lord God replies: "Then you think he didn't receive a soul when my water of life fell on his head?"
Napoleonder at once gathered together a great army speaking twelve languages, and went forth to war. He conquered the Germans, he conquered the Turks, he subdued the Swedes and the Poles. He reaped as he marched, and left bare the country through which he passed. And all the time he remembers the condition of success – pity for none. He cuts off heads, burns villages, outrages women, and tramples children under his horses' hoofs. He desolates the whole Mohammedan kingdom – and still he is not sated. Finally he marches on a Christian country – on Holy Russia.
In Russia then the Tsar was Alexander the Blessed – the same Tsar who stands now on the top of the column in Petersburg-town and blesses the people with a cross, and that's why he is called "the Blessed."
When he saw Napoleonder marching against him with twelve languages, Alexander the Blessed felt that the end of Russia was near. He called together his generals and field-marshals, and said to them: "Messrs. Generals and Field-marshals, how can I check this Napoleonder? He is pressing us terribly hard."
The generals and field-marshals reply: "We can't do anything, your
Majesty, to stop Napoleonder, because God has given him a word."
"What kind of a word?"
"This kind: 'Bonaparty.'"
"But what does 'Bonaparty' mean, and why is a single word so terrible?"
"It means, your Majesty, six hundred and sixty-six – the number of the Beast [Footnote 3: A reference to the Beast of the Apocalypse. "The number of the beast is the number of a man: and his number is Six hundred threescore and six" (Rev. xiii. 18).]; and it is terrible because when Napoleonder sees, in a battle, that the enemy is very brave, that his own strength is not enough,
