The Three Questions
Story 001 of 100 · Leo Tolstoy · 5 minute read
The Three Questions
A king looks for certainty. What he finds is someone who needs his help.
An original, condensed adaptation of Leo Tolstoy’s 1903 story, based on the English translation by Louise and Aylmer Maude. This is not a verbatim translation.
A king believed that if he could answer three questions, he would never fail at anything he undertook. When was the right time to act? Whose company and advice mattered most? And what was the most important thing to do?
He promised a reward to anyone who could tell him. Learned people came with confident answers. Some recommended a strict timetable; others said no timetable could account for everything. Some urged him to consult a council. Others insisted that certain decisions could not wait for consultation. They disagreed just as sharply about which people and pursuits deserved his attention.
Unsatisfied, the king decided to visit a hermit known for his wisdom. The hermit lived in the woods and received only ordinary people, so the king put on simple clothes, left his attendants behind, and approached alone.
He found the old man digging outside his hut. The work was difficult for him; each turn of the spade left him breathless. The king asked his three questions. The hermit listened, but gave no answer.
Seeing how tired he was, the king offered to take the spade. The hermit sat down, and the king began to dig. After a while, he repeated his questions. Instead of answering, the hermit offered to resume the work. The king kept digging.
Hours passed. As evening approached, the king put down the spade. He had come for answers, he explained, and would leave if the hermit had none to give.
Then a bearded man appeared, running from the trees. He was pressing his hands against his stomach. Blood seeped through his fingers. He reached the two men and collapsed.
The king and the hermit opened his clothing and found a deep wound. The king washed it and bandaged it with the cloths they had. When the blood soaked through, he cleaned the wound and bound it again. He continued until the bleeding stopped.
The stranger asked for water. The king brought it. With the hermit’s help, he carried the injured man into the hut and laid him on the bed. Exhausted by the digging and the care he had given, the king fell asleep at the threshold.
In the morning, the wounded man asked his forgiveness. The king did not recognize him.
The man explained that he had been waiting in the woods to kill him. The king had executed his brother and taken his property. When the king did not return, he had left his hiding place and encountered the king’s guards. They recognized him and wounded him. He had escaped, only to have his life saved by the person he meant to murder.
He now offered the king his service instead of his hatred. The king forgave him, promised to send a physician and servants to care for him, and agreed to restore his property.
Before leaving, the king went outside once more. The hermit was planting seeds in the beds they had dug. The king asked, a final time, for the answers he had come to find.
They had already been given, the hermit explained. Had the king refused to help him dig, he would have left sooner and met his attacker. While he was digging, that was the time that mattered; the hermit was the person who mattered; helping him was the necessary work.
Later, the wounded man became the person before him, and tending the wound became the most important task. Without that care, the man would have died an enemy.
The only time in which the king could act was the present. The person who required his attention was the one with him. And the work that gave those encounters their meaning was doing good.
What the story opens up
The king treats wisdom as a way of removing uncertainty before he acts. Yet the decisive events arrive without an appointment. His understanding grows because he notices a tired man and a wounded stranger, then responds.
This need not mean abandoning plans or caring only about whoever is physically closest. Responsibilities extend to absent people and to consequences we cannot yet see. The sharper distinction is between preparing for life and using preparation to postpone participation in it. The future is shaped by actions that can only happen now.
There is also an uncomfortable political detail: the stranger’s anger follows the king’s own exercise of power. Reconciliation involves more than the king feeling merciful. It includes restoring property and arranging continued care. Attention becomes credible when it changes what someone does.
Read this way, the story offers a test for an ordinary day. A conversation, an unfinished obligation, or someone’s unspoken difficulty may be asking for a response while the mind searches elsewhere for something more important. Which demand deserves attention is still a matter of judgment. The story asks us to exercise it.
Three principles to remember
- The most important time is now.Because this is where we can act.
- The most important person is the one before us.Because our attention can make a difference.
- The most important action is to do good.Because wisdom becomes meaningful through action.
A question to carry with you
Is the present moment more important than the future, or is the quality of our actions in the present what ultimately creates the future?
The future deserves our preparation,
but the present deserves our presence.
