"What a fellow you are!" says his brother; "you have nothing to eat
yourself, and here you are inviting other people for your name-day."

"Yes," said the peasant, "once upon a time, it is true, I had nothing
to eat; but now, praise be to God, I am no poorer than yourself. Come
to my name-day feast and you will see."

"Very well," says his brother, "I'll come; but don't think you can
play any jokes on me."

On the morning of the peasant's name-day his brother, the merchant in
the town, put on his best clothes, and his plump wife dressed in all
her richest, and they got into their cart--a fine cart it was too,
painted in the brightest colours--and off they drove together to the
house of the brother who had once been poor. They took a basket of
food with them, in case he had only been joking when he invited them
to his name-day feast.

They drove to the village, and asked for him at the hut where he used
to be.

An old man hobbling along the road answered them,--

"Oh, you mean our Ivan Ilyitch. Well, he does not live here any
longer. Where have you been that you have not heard? His is the big
new house on the hill. You can see it through the trees over there,
where all these people are walking. He has a kind heart, he has, and
riches have not spoiled it. He has invited the whole village to feast
with him, because to-day is his name-day."